Story: Adventurers 1
Thomas Miller
This is the first in a series of adventure segments I have written
up. It was played several years ago, and I am writing these based
on my DM's notes and memory. The system is AD&D 2nd edition, tailored
just a bit. I am going to call this series "The Adventurers" due to
lack of a better term (the group never named themselves or did any
world-shattering deeds to make a name...).
This is written in a format similar to certain previous postings
of this sort on this newsgroup. I have always written things up in
this format, and it is what I am most comfortable with, so even
though these may not read like a text story, they will be more fun
to write. The dice rolls are not always invisible in these stories,
but usually when they are there, they add to the sense of what is
happening. Please email comments and/or criticisms so I will have
some feedback on this work.
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I. Introductions
Winter was fast approaching. The place was Fax, on the Wild
Coast far to the south and east of the city of Greyhawk. Cold winds
blew a chill throughout the town, but within closed doors people
were gathered in warm homes and taverns. Inside one such place,
much of importance was going on...
In a dim, candlelit corner of the Green Dragon Inn, an unusual
assortment of individuals of all types had gathered, in response to a
mysterious summons. They had all been waiting for a while at a
large wooden table, and certainly some were getting anxious. The
summons had come in different ways for different members of this
group - some of them had received letters, while others had been
told to meet here by strange, hooded messengers. A couple of the
people at the table had heard rumors and showed up here tonight on
a whim, to find that their advice had been correct. Something was
indeed brewing at the Green Dragon Inn.
Some of those gathered had already started talking amongst
themselves.
(silver-haired elf in purple robe): Greetings! I am Ged, priest of
Boccob. And who might _you_ be?
(stocky dwarf in chain mail): I am Mongo Thunderhead, youngest of
the Clan Thunderhead and a great warrior!
(very tall, rough-looking elf): You may call me...Belphanior.
(powerfully built half-elf, in hides): Well met, sir! I am Peyote,
he of the forests. This fellow to my right is Halbarad, also a traveler
of the woodlands.
(Halbarad, a woodsman in greenish-brown leather): Pleased to make
your aquaintances.
(gigantic human warrior, in hides, unshaven): Hmph. I am Krug.
Mongo: Boy, are you ever. What do you do for a living?
Krug: Kill things.
Mongo: Oh.
Also seated at the table are a figure in a shadowed black cloak,
who has not said a word yet, and a nondescript human in old leather
armor, who every so often orders another mug of ale for himself.
Suddenly, a portly human, dressed in priestly robes, trips nearby the
table and falls on his face.
(priest): Ouch! (getting up) Hey! Are you guys here for the mission
that I have heard about?
Belphanior: Maybe.
Ged: Who are you to ask us this?
Priest: I am Rob, wandering healer and inventor. Pleased to make
your acquaintance, yes I am. (dusts himself off and starts shaking
hands with some of the others)
As the group makes small talk, an elderly man approaches
slowly. He surveys the group, with a slight nod of approval, and
pulls up a chair for himself. He is thin and looks bedraggled.
(old man): Greetings, noble adventurers. I am Cassius, he who took
steps to gather you all here.
Belphanior: Why have you done this? I trust that you have some
reason?
Ged: Quiet, fool. Pray continue, friend Cassius.
Cassius: I have need of a capable and multi-talented group of
individuals to transport something to another place for me. As I
have business here every day, I cannot do it myself; thus, the need
for all of you.
Krug: Cashus, huh? I hope you have lot of money, Cashus, if I am to
work with fools such as this (gesturing to Rob the priest).
Ged: The everpresent element of greed manifests itself...
Halbarad: Truly.
Cassius: You will have to travel west and south, to Courwood, in the
southern reach of Celene. There will be a hazardous patch of forest,
as well as some light hills and plains. You must allow nothing to
hinder you, for a close friend of mine in Courwood has need of that
which you will be carrying.
Belphanior: Which is...?
Cassius: (pulls a dull metal tube from his cloak; it is about a foot
long and three inches in diameter) This is your cargo. It has no
intrinsic value but is very important to my associate in Courwood.
Upon completion of this mission you will each receive two hundred
coins of gold for your trouble.
(nondescript human, unidentified as yet): We'll take half of that in
advance.
Ged: Have you a name, greedy one?
(human): I am Peldor, swashbuckler supreme. I am sure that you'll be
thankful that I'm along on this trip.
Belphanior: Two hundred gold? Is that ALL?!?
Krug: Two hundred gold fine with _me_.
Cassius: As an advance payment, I will provide horses for you all to
use on your trip...which will be returned to me when you are done, of
course.
Peldor: Of course.
Ged: (eyeing Peldor with wary look)
Cassius: Who will be the carrier of this cargo?
Peldor: I'll take it!
Halbarad, Ged, Mongo, Peyote: NO!
Mongo: I'll carry it, thank you.
Cassius: Very well. (hands the tube to Mongo) Here it is...
The tavern is silent. Four mean-looking ruffians are making their way
toward the table. They are dressed in dirty clothes and carry swords
and crossbows. Arriving at the table, they unsheath their swords and
one raises his crossbow.
Peldor: (to DM) I unsheath one of my daggers and prepare to throw it.
Mongo: Uh-oh.
Ged: What is the meaning of this nonsense? Who are you people?
Ruffian#1: Nobody move!
Ruffian#2: (shoots Cassius in the chest)
Mongo: Hey! (stands up) What'd they do that for? (draws sword)
Peyote: (to DM) I loosen my sword in its sheath.
Halbarad: (to DM) Ditto.
Krug: (also stands up) Grunt. (downs last of his mug of ale)
(unidentified shadowy figure): (whispering to itself)
Suddenly, the room begins to fill with fog, especially in the
immediate area of the ruffians. Some of the characters present
don't waste any time taking advantage of this opportunity...
Peldor: (missing from table)
Halbarad, Krug, Mongo: (draw weapons and move to engage opponents)
Krug: Good! A fray!
Ruffian#1: (swings at Halbarad, misses)
Krug: (hits one, ruffian#2) Die scum! (rolling very high damage
for his two-handed sword, he slays his opponent) Hah! First blood
to me! Cashus is avenged!
Belphanior: (scores a minor cut on ruffian#3) Tell us who sent you
and we might let you live!
Ruffian#3: Never, dolt! (hits Belphanior) Surrender or die, that's
what you can do!
Belphanior: Ouch! Fuck!
Ged: (off to the side, preparing a spell)
Peyote: (trying to decide which spell to use)
Rob: I cower in the corner.
DM: Ok.
Halbarad: (swings and hits ruffian#1, who collapses, dying)
Peldor: (hits with backstab attempt, finishing Belphanior's opponent)
That's the first of many victories you'll owe to the might of Peldor!
Ruffian#4: (swings a mighty blow at Mongo, but it bounces harmlessly
off of his chain mail)
Mongo: Oof! Bastard! Let me show you how it's done! (Mongo got the
worst initiative roll and goes last) (nails his opponent with a
critical hit, slaying him instantly)
DM: Mongo, that's...a head critical. His head flies off to the left.
Belphanior: (to DM) Can I catch it?
DM: Why? Oh, why not? Make a Dex check.
Belphanior: (makes it easily) I've got the head!
Ged: That's sick. (to DM) Forget the spell. I think things are well
in hand now.
Rob: Hey guys! Cassius is dying!
Ged: (takes a look at the wound) Hmm. Poison most foul!
Cassius: (with dying breath) Belegard! Seek Belegard in Courwood!
Ack! (expires. His skin is covered in oozing sores, an effect of the
poison on the bolt.)
Ged: Is he beyond healing?
DM: Dead as a doornail.
Mongo: (surveying the tavern) Awfully quiet in here all of a sudden...
Rob: Shouldn't we contact the authorities?
Ged: It _would_ be the right thing to do...
Belphanior: I think we had best leave, now, before things get any worse.
Halbarad: Much as I hate to agree, that would be the best option at this
point.
Peldor: I search his pockets.
DM: Whose pockets?
Peldor: All of them. All the dead people.
Peyote: (to shadowed person, who is still sitting in the corner as if
nothing had happened) Our thanks, stranger. I, for one, noticed you
create that fog, which methinks aided us to defeat those slayers.
(shadowed one): You are most welcome, priest of the forest. I would
like to join this quest, if I may.
Peyote: Certainly, my fine fellow!
Ged: (to DM) I cast detect evil. Does the shadowed one radiate any
aura? For that matter, do _any_ of them give off such an aura?
DM: No...not quite.
(shadowed one): Have a care who you accuse of wrongdoing, elf...
Halbarad: We have dallied here long enough.
Mongo: Yeah! Let's split!
The party exits the Green Dragon Inn, and finds, conveniently enough,
a number of light horses saddled outside the tavern. Fortunately, they
have all of their possessions with them, so they are able to leave the
city fairly quickly. In a place such as Fax, though, the city guard, if
it can be called that, is always slow to respond and slower still to ask
any questions. It is midday as the group rides out of the city at a quick
pace. They are headed southwest, toward the area called Courwood.
THE PARTY THUS FAR:
Belphanior, high elf fighter?
Ged, grey elf priest/mage
Halbarad, human ranger
Krug, human fighter
Mongo, dwarf fighter
Peldor, human thief
Peyote, half-elf fighter/druid
Rob, human priest
(unnamed), ? mage
--
Thomas Miller GT EE '92 Atlanta Braves - '91 NL Champions
Georgia Institute of Technology, Atlanta Georgia, 30332
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Internet: tmi...@prism.gatech.edu