Mithlome and Morchir
(Greengold, Kyonin)
Mithlome recently graduated from the wizard's academy in Greengold. Well, "wizard's academy" might be a bit of an overstatement; it was more like a loose collection of wizards offering training in exchange for labor from the talented but inexperienced. And, "graduated" might be a bit of an overstatement; it was more that Mithlome was judged to be competent enough to be sent on an errand that took him further than one day outside the commonly accepted boundary of Greengold.
This was an exciting day; the wizards were sending him all the way down to Almas! In his excitement, Mithlome didn't notice his primary sponsor/master and her partner on the Avortime project exchanging glances and rolling their eyes. Nothing against humans, but young elves like Mithlome do better with them. Wiser and more experienced elves understand that humans are like finding a talking dog. After the novelty wears off, you notice the poor grammar. With training, the dog is able to correct its grammar, but by then it is so old it cannot speak more than a few sentences a day. It dies shortly thereafter. Sometimes one should leave sleeping dogs lie, even if they talk.
Still Mineth had a soft spot in her heart for Mithlome. He was young, but he did show a lot of talent. She had sponsored him over the objections of Mel; and the two even had something of a side wager. Mel thought Mithlome would wash out within a decade. Mineth thought Mithlome was one of three great talents to apply to the academy. The two agreed that Mineth would get access to Mel's spellbooks for a number of years equal to the highest circle Mithlome could eventually cast. Mel was shocked when Mithlome got beyond cantrips; but the bet doesn't end until Mithlome dies or he casts a spell from the ninth circle. As elves are wont to do, both intrigue with respect to this bet. She knew first-hand that the human lands could be dangerous, and decided to call in a favor.
When Morchir was young, he contracted the dreaded elven shakes. Nobody in the colony grove could tell if he was going to make it. Morchir pulled through and recovered, but the experience did leave a mark on his health. Not long after his recovery, a representative from the Elven Heritage Group* stopped by and asked to play a game with young Morchir for five minutes. The game was simple: A bag of 50 stones, none bigger than a coin, should be divided into piles. When Morchir divided them into two piles, ten and forty, it was clear Morchir had the knack. Of the 50 stones, ten were magical, while forty were not. Ten piles of five, Five piles of ten, two piles of twenty-five, and even one big pile of fifty were common results; but 10 and 40 was always a dead giveaway. Morchir's parents were sympathetic to the goals of the Elven Heritage Group, and so Morchir was accepted to training.
Today Morchir was practicing, but this was nothing new. He was constantly conditioning himself, with an almost human myopia for progress and setbacks. Dínelaer, the 0-1:2/4:3/3 (no translation from Elvish) requested Morchir's attendance. "I have an assignment for you," Dínelaer said. "Someone from the wizard's enclave requested a bodyguard for a messenger to Almas. It's not a typical assignment, but it dovetails nicely with a lead we've received. Also, the wizard requesting the favor is someone of import, and that marker will be very useful indeed. Your charge's name is Mithlome, and he'll be departing from tree-gate of Greengold in two weeks." Morchir eagerly accepted the assignment, as both a challenge to his skills, and an opportunity to prove his worth to the Elven Heritage Group.
* Depending on the elf, the Elven Heritage Group is either the birthright of the elven race, or a dangerous cult with dangerous goals. In particular, the Elven Heritage Group has dubbed itself the authority on investigating and recovering the artifacts lost by the elves during the age of darkness. Those elves who oppose them refer to them by the derogatory name "The Spellfilchers", as covert infiltration and theft are the primary functions of this group and their devoted.
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GM note: "Elven Heritage Group" is the closest denotative translation from Elvish. The closest connotative translation might be "Sole Redeemers of Elven Destiny"
Aranel
(Temple Astambha)
Aranel was not a typical elf. She was beautiful, tall, and delicate as most elves are, but the similarities ended there. She was considered quick, in both body and mind, even amongst the elves. She seemed to know from little onward that her destiny would take her on paths that few elves would walk.
A chance encounter with a brightness seeker began her journey. She was instructed, "I am headed south. If you follow me, you may find that which you seek." Aranel followed the mysterious elf south until they reached Darkmoon Wood. At a small Vudrani temple to Irori, tucked into a small clearing, Aranel knew she had reached her destination.
A single Vudrani adherent greeted the pair from the gateway arch. Aranel entered the temple to find two rows of meditating monks creating a human corridor to the large gong placed at the center of the temple. Instinctively, she walked toward the gong, picked up the gong stick, and the temple resonated with the sound of a new entrant to the priesthood.
Aranel noticed that her companion was no longer with her, but knew in her heart that he would not be waiting outside. She took a seat in front of the gong, and a servant of Temple Astambha began to braid her long elven hair while the dogs barked and played outside.
Prakash is the high priest/monk of Astambha, and has been Aranel's primary instructor for the last 20 years. According to Prakash, Aranel's arrival was given to him in a vision a year before she arrived; and that her primary purpose was not to learn, but rather to teach. Neither Prakash nor Aranel understood Irori's vision on that point, but Aranel has been an excellent student in dedication to her studies.
Of late, a small tribe of goblins have been pestering Astambha. If this is because the monks have food, or because the monks have dogs, it is difficult to tell. However, something must be done about the goblins.
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GM Note: The Lumber Consortium has also had its eye on Astambha for some time. The quiet monks made good neighbors; they kept the area around the temple safe for themselves, and a safe(r) zone in Darkmoon Wood was not overlooked by the lumberjacks. However, now that profits are being squeezed, some in the consortium have suggested it is time to collect on back rent that has come due...
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Kazzah & Phoric
(Highhelm, Druma)
Kazzah was a problem child. Don't get me wrong, she had a good heart; it's just that she had no respect for the traditions of her clan! Yea, every girl disagreed with her father about the arrangement of her marriage. Yea, it was the lot of every dwarf to be miserable. Yea, every dwarf was supposed to be stubborn about it. But no dwarf was supposed to be this vocal about it!
Dolgrin Silverhelm was the king of the sky citadel at Highhelm. His daughter Kazzah's steadfast refusal to marry the dwarf she had been arranged to marry was beginning to take a toll on his political capital. So he concocted a plan, if the topic of conversation shifted from, "Why isn't the princess getting married?" to "Who abducted the princess, and why?" it would be advantageous.
Of course, nobody would have abducted the princess, she would simply leave in the middle of the night on a mission. She had trained with the Bonecrusher clan since she was knee high to a gnome; he had no worries about her being able to take care of herself. Even with this, two dwarves were always better than one. Dolgrin contacted the leader of the Bonecrusher clan.
Falthic Bonecrusher and Dolgrin Silverhelm went way back. Between them, no two dwarves had ever slain more mugs of dwarven ale or steaming mushroom bowls, over a lifetime or in a single night. So it was without hesitation that Falthic offered up his prodigal warrior for the assignment.
Phoric Bonecrusher was a bit short in the beard, but he was very talented with an axe. His lack of experience was also an advantage, in that his talent had not yet translated into considerable fame. Thus he would be able to guard the princess more easily. Falthic gave Phoric a slap on the back and three instructions:
1. Guard the princess
2. Don't screw this up for our clan
3. Be careful
Phoric chided Falthic for his words of caution. Falthic nearly settled the score with a call to Brew'N'Beat*, but decided against it. It would look unbecoming for a clan leader to beat a shortbeard into submission. Nor did he want to take the first shot from Phoric.
Kazzah wasn't quite sure why that beardless elf-kisser of a groom was following that human crap (what self-respecting dwarf follows a religion where only humans are worthy of paradise?!?) but she was sure she wanted no part of that cult, this marriage, or this stuffy rulership business.
Dolgrin, of course, protested. She was her father's daughter; beautiful as a gemstone, and as stubborn as a mule. "I don't care if'en yur not 'appy! Bein' miserable is part 'a bein' a dwarf!!!" he would scream. After years of argument, he finally relented; in the begrudging way that only a dwarf can relent.
"Since yur bein' after bein' yur own woman, canna stand 'ese stuffy dwarven 'alls and stuffy dwarven customs, and yas refuse ta help yur father and yur clan in the way 'a marriage, I've seen fit ta send ya on a mission. Some 'umans from 'ndoran sent a' messenger ta us, and I'm bein' after sendin' 'em a reply. Since yur not bein' after 'elpin me 'ere, yas can be bein' after 'elpin me thar."
"Yur ta adopt the name 'a the Bonecrusher clan, and take 'ese 'ere papers ta the leader of the 'umans, Codpiece ta First, in Almas. Take 'a mule, supply yurself at tha barracks, an' begone with ye until yas get a reply from Codpiece."
The humans of Andoran are a strange lot; literally. Leaders determined by casting lots? It's strange, but by the hammer and the anvil it strikes well with Kazzah; these humans control their leaders and their own destiny. Maybe the dwarves could learn something from them?
Kazzah and Phoric departed Highhelm and headed south via the Lonely Tunnel*.
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* Brew'N'Beat is a method to settle disputes devised by the Bonecrusher clan. The rules are thus: Two dwarves stand in the common room. Rounds alternate between the dwarves. Each round consists of quaffing an entire stone mug of dwarven ale, and then hitting the other dwarf with it. The challenged dwarf gets to strike first. The loser is the dwarf who passes out, falls down without getting back up, or concedes defeat to the superior dwarf. (The latter very rarely happens.)
* The Lonely Tunnel is a long, straight, (relatively) narrow, flat tunnel under the Five Kings Mountain that runs from just south of Highhelm to just north of the foothills north of Darkmoon Wood. It was given it's name by the dwarves who have travelled it's long boring length.
I am still running this campaign at my apartment every other weekend. I just wanted to record something about today's session.
Kazzah was locked in melee combat with a Frost Giant. Her barbarian rage and dwarven animosity towards giants fully engaged.
Her hit points were reduced such that Frost Giant needed to roll a successful attack and then roll just 5 points of damage on its 3d6 large greataxe.
That would drop Kazzah, remove her rage hit points, and she would be at -Con (DEAD).
I always roll my attacks in public, out in view of the players. And here we go...
All the players at the table laughed. I still can't believe it went down like that.