First off, if you'll excuse a personal note, I've been really ill the last few weeks. I had a lot of stuff in the queue over at my writing blog, or else it would have been as quiet as this one has been lately. Missed a convention. Even missed last Thursday's episode of Bujilli. I'm getting better. Slowly, but surely. The warmer weather helps. But even through all this, I still managed to keep up with the game on Unseen Servant. Mostly because I could check in on it at anytime during the week, and post whenever I had a lucid moment to spare or something to add to the ongoing dialogue. That has made a believer of me.
I plan on setting-up a small-scale Wermspittle game on Unseen Servant before too long...as a sort of test-drive/play-test sort of thing.
I plan on setting-up a small-scale Wermspittle game on Unseen Servant before too long...as a sort of test-drive/play-test sort of thing.
Our group of player characters met in an inn located within a small frontier outpost on a river. Aside from selling passable ale, bad wine and not having too many fleas in the bedding, the place wasn't much to speak of...yet. It was still a bit raw; the place had the feel of one of those little enclaves that might someday grow into a town, if it survived long enough.
Eventually, some of us slept in that morning, we all gathered in the common room and over went about making preparations for our impending expedition. First off, we needed to decide upon a destination. We considered our options, asked a few impertinent questions of the locals, and finally determined that this "Mouth of Doom" sounded like the most promising place to go rummaging about for treasure and loot.
In the course of getting properly outfitted and supplied, we wound-up with two mules, loads of delving equipment, and a few hirelings. Ushnab made sure we had ten-foot poles, sacks, rope, iron spikes, all that sort of thing. Including extra rations and plenty of ale, not so much of that wine. The soil or weather hereabouts must not be conducive to good viniculture. I made a note to investigate the bee situation in the area. Perhaps a meadery might be a good investment, down the road...assuming we survived our foray into Rappan Athak, of course. But if we do survive our delving efforts into this notorious place, our fortunes will be made. Ushnnab, having been raised by dwarves, was taught from early on that one should consider their options, always look out for opportunities. Real fortunes didn't get dug out of the ground; they were made from getting those who did the digging to hand over their gold for things that they needed or wanted.
Ushnab negotiated a basic contract with the hirelings, mostly because he was flush with gold. [I rolled extremely lucky for starting gold for a change.] He also was able to get a decent deal on a sturdy if somewhat scrawny mule, named Bessemer. He also made a deposit with the the local blacksmith so they'd fashion a suit of barding for his guard dog, George. The dog-armor would be ready after we returned from our first exploratory foray. We needed to take a look at this 'Mouth of Doom,' and see what we could do about it...either in terms of looting the place or whatever.
Some of us met or crossed paths with a pair of Rangers and learned a few things about the local region, but nothing that seemed particularly troubling or immediately useful, but it was good to know that they patrolled the area and that two of them were deemed adequate for the general level of threat to be expected in this region.
Our respective business taken care of, all preparations all made, we assembled on a rather pleasant morning in front of the Inn. We looked like a small group of merchants. Mostly Elf merchants.
We set off toward the Mouth of Doom.
Not far from the little outpost, we were accosted by a band of gnolls.
Ushnab used a Sleep spell, then discovered the limits of his skill with a scimitar (lots of misses). Thankfully others in the group are more competent combatants and our group prevailed. We even managed to capture a pair of the gnolls. Interrogating them proved unsatisfying and unproductive. Ushnab advocated for hanging the gnolls as bandits, should they be released, they would only go on to attack anyone else that looked like suitable targets. Others wanted to release them. Some of the group stated that they felt it would be somehow wrong to kill what were now seen by them as helpless opponents. unfortunately, in the course of our interrogation efforts, the gnolls were allowed to learn where we were headed. An honest mistake, really more of an oversight. It was a real moral dilemna.
Ushnab is a practical sort. An Elf raised by Dwarves after getting mauled by an owlbear as a child. He knows about ambushes and bandit tricks, having rown up with tales of his foster parent's run-ins with crooked merchants, devious brigands, and so on. He knew that if the gnolls got a chance, they would kill everyone in their sleep or trail them until an opportunity to attack them presented itself. He wasn't going to let them go just so they could stir up mischief later...or run off to their raiding band and lead back a lot more of the mangy things to wipe us out. Sure, they said they were the last of their group. They were most likely lying.
So once it looked like the gnolls were going to be released, Ushnab killed them. He wasn't happy about it. But it didn't make sense to do anything else. He would have preferred to have hung them as bandits. And a warning to other bandits in the area. But hey, stuff happens. This act seems to have put off Otikas, our Magic-User. So Ushnab tends to give him a wider berth, a bit of space. It was no one's fault that the gnolls learned our destination and thus were too dangerous to let go. What had to be done, had to be done, and he did it. That's what Ushnab tells himself. Regularly and often.
After gathering up the gnoll's paltry loot, our group continued on the trail until we reached the Mouth of Doom. It was literally a large, stone face with a gaping mouth and stairs leading down into the dark depths below a hill. The group set up camp overlooking the 'Mouth,' while some took a look around the immediate area and Ushnab tied a length of rope to his belt and went down the stairs to see what he could see.
He's not a thief, but Ushnab did learn a few things from his foster-parents. So he did what he could to check for traps, to find out how far the stairs went (roughly 40'), and what he could see at the end of the rope-length with a lit torch.
There's a room of sorts down there. It has six doors, each set into a 10'x10' alcove. The whole place reeked like an open grave. Much as expected.
Ushnab returned to the group and made his report. Drank some ale. And waited to find out if the group wanted to look for an alternative entrance, or head on down the 'Mouth.' someone mentioned a small sandy patch out behind the hill to the South. That might be worth taking a look at. Some of the others were headed out that way, to take a look-see, maybe poke about with a pole or something.
Ushnab re-coiled his rope and started putting together the gear he meant to take down first. Things like spikes, a pole, more rope, that sort of thing. He was considering setting-up a cache beside whichever door they went through...if they decided to go through the 'Mouth' entrance. He liked Logan the Fighter's suggestion; start with the door that showed the most signs of recent use, or lacking that, go through the one in the direction of the sun rise. Working with the sun made a sort of symbolic sense, especially in a place notorious for being infested with undead...
To Be Continued...
