Oh, How We Loved That Gal…

Adventure Log by Arxaggus Add comments

This week we went north in an effort to encounter something new.  Except, we didn’t actually go north.  The north gate’s road forks east, and we went that way instead.  Much to our dismay, this road turns south for a number of miles.  I’m fairly certain we didn’t go north of the city at all.

It amazes me how much action can occur in a single day.  I haven’t been long at this “adventuring” deal, but much of it so far is boredom punctuated by a few minutes of bloodshed and sheer terror.  A lot can happen in those few minutes.  Today I lost another compatriot.

The east road was empty.  Not one goblin, not one orc for miles and miles (except Traunk).  Even worse, we didn’t cross a single stream or come across anything resembling a pond.  How can this dwarf stay sane when there’s no good fishing spots in this land?

Anyway, eventually the road stopped at some ruins.  I know now that the place was an abandoned logging camp, but we didn’t realize it then.  That little tidbit might have been useful…

We were jumped by beasties in the very first building we entered.  Huge blood-red spiders shot crystalline webbing at us from the rafters.  They all had terrible aim for the most part but did manage to entangle Galstaff and drink a bit of his blood.  Wrenly, Skandale, and meself all got kills and were greeted with a rain of black-red ichor upon our heads.  Meanwhile, more of them outside engaged but failed to injure Traunk.  Ham, ever useful in combat, threw a flask of alchemist fire and set our half-orc friend alight.  Ignoring the flames, Traunk climbed the roof and dispatched them…then he crashed straight through to the ground; the rotten wood had failed to support his mighty girth.

Fortunately, the rest of us had just exited the building.  Wrenly, who remained outside to deal with the rooftop spiders, was besieged suddenly by the appearance of two owl-bears.  One of them very nearly crushed his chest; luckily, Wrenly had recently upgraded his armor.  Imbued with a rush of adrenaline and pain, the fleet-footed human retreated and cleanly jumped straight onto a ten-foot-high roof.  Such a feat I had only heard of in me Ma’s story about circus performers.

This left Galstaff alone in the immediate area.  Wild-lad let loose with a cry of utter barbarity and charged the beasts.  They traded blows as the rest of us moved to support him.  Wrenly, from his rooftop perch, sang a little ditty about our dear departed friend, and oh how we loved that Gal…he was terribly off-tune.  Our combined efforts dispatched the abominations, but not before Galstaff collapsed to the ground, near death.  Skandale poured a potion of healing down his throat, and with the gods’ good graces, he returned to consciousness.  To me amazement, with a little determination and a moment to catch his breath, he appeared to shrug off all of his wounds and be battle-ready once more.

With the sun setting, we all agreed this location was too dangerous in which to camp, so we retreated a ways back down the road and set ourselves up on a defensible little hill.  Not long after the last rays of light disappeared below the horizon, we were beset once more.  I awoke to see a great moss-covered thing attacking Galstaff.  Ham, ever useful in combat, retreated to a safer location on the other side of the trees.  Wrenly, actually in-tune for a change, sang something about me and me mule…

Galstaff was again grievously injured, and to make matters worse, he bent the haft of his great axe.  Thinking on his toes, he collapsed to the ground, feigning death.  Signore, upon seeing an ally fall in battle, becomes enraged!  Some kind of wicked vine was strangling Galstaff, leeching his vitality.

Good teamwork again leads to a victory.  Skandale skillfully tumbles around what we’ve guessed is some species of troll and shoots it in the back.  Ham shows some courage and attacks it.  Signore claims credit for dropping the beast with a mighty swing of his sword.  I light a torch and go about setting the rapidly healing moss-ster on fire.  Ham spies a cloaked figure at the base of the hill, observing us intently.  This battle isn’t over…

The vines entangling Galstaff, who isn’t really dead, attempt to draw him into the ground, a fate which will surely kill him.  The lad is losing strength rapidly and there’s no way to hack at the vines without also injuring him.  Traunk attempts an unusual strategy: he asks the mysterious figure for aid.  Surprisingly, the creature agrees.  With a wave of its hand, the vines return to the ground.  He must be its con-troll-er, Traunk reasons.  The figure issues a warning: “do not return to the forest.”

This utterance confuses all of us.  We haven’t yet entered a forest, only a bit of ruins.

Morning comes.  We all get a restful sleep, but … ooh, a bite!

I’ve landed a half-pound freshwater grouper!  This should make for very good eating.

…anyway, where was I?  Oh yes…we all get a restful sleep, but Galstaff has developed a cough and a shiver.  Again without the Doc, we find ourselves helpless to cure him.  The lad assures us he’s battle-ready and we decide to return to the ruined town.

Examining the den of the owlbeasts, we discover a prize.  Along with long-dead skeletons, locked snugly in a worn box is an elaborate wool tapestry in nearly pristine condition.  Further, the corpses also had in their possession a fine bookbinding made from platinum and alabaster.  This is wealth beyond anything we’d previously discovered.  Wisely, we immediately secure the items in our saddlebags.

Suddenly, battle is upon us once more.  I emerge from the den to discover more giant spiders attacking us.  These are different than yesterday’s, though, and possess some sort of magic that allows them to go invisible.  The battle is joined, but rather than a stand-up fight, the beasts pop in and out of our reality, evading our blows.  Harried nearly to the point of frustration, we are unable to quickly dispatch them.  One of the spiders gravely wounds Wrenly.  Ham manages to blind one, and it disappears.  Galstaff eviscerates one with a vicious jump-hack at its abdomen.

Skandale, also severely wounded, retrieves the unconscious Wrenly and mounts up, preparing to retreat.  Much to Skandale’s surprise, Wrenly’s wounds reopen; he is poisoned.  Skandale hurriedly reaches into his pockets and pours two more healing potions down Wrenly’s throat.  Fortunately, Wrenly’s bleeding stops again and he appears out of danger.  Galstaff is also poisoned.  Still weakened after the vine-roots from the previous night, his body cannot shake off this injury.

As I mount up, Traunk and Signore call out from the far side of the town: the troll and its master have returned.  Determined to best these foes permanently, I cut the strap on me saddlebags and spur me horse to a gallop.  I come up right behind them and give the humanoid a vicious whack with me glaive.  Shockingly, the creature is unharmed.  What sort of foul magics invigorate him, I wonder?  Signore, putting all of his strength into it, manages to barely scratch him with a swing of his weapon that would have taken the head from an orc without question.  Uninjured, the creature repeatedly slings bolts of fire at us.

Realizing we were fighting a foe beyond us, we retreat.  I recover me saddlebags and Wrenly’s horse.  We again managed to defeat the troll and we killed a second phase spider.  The third escapes, and the humanoid again does not chase us.  The ruined camp clearly is his territory, and we were the intruders.

Regrouping outside the town, we watch with frustration as the poison slowly courses its way through Galstaff’s body.  He collapses to the ground, dead, after all his fortitude is drained away.  What a terrible way to die.

Time to end me day…

Tonight's Cast:
Captain Arxaggus "Ox" Dunnbuldanngen, Dwarven Myrmidon - Tristan
Krix Skandale, Human Archer - Russ
Signore, Human Berserker - Keith
Ham, Human Harrier - Scotland
Traunk, Half-Orc Armiger - Eric
Wrenly "The Clever", Human Harrier - Mike
- Connar
DM - Paul
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2 Responses to “Oh, How We Loved That Gal…”

  1. Gallstaff says: |

    Nice story telling!

  2. Traunk says: |

    On this trip Signore taught me a good lesson about fighting in the wilds when he said, “Ox is my Canary.”

    If the lanky hairless Dwarf is dissuaded by a situation, we better run away.

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