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Dotting gameplay!
Dotting Gameplay
A rash of abductions has been plaguing your village. You've heard rumors and tales of a horde of vile beastmen inhabiting the ancient keep on the hill. Bent on stopping the abductions, you and your fellow villagers have finally decided to do something about it and set off to investigate the keep and put an end to the horrors once and for all.
The keep looming high on the hill has long been a source of fearsome tales and terrible legends. The locals are steeped in superstitious lore surrounding the keep; some of the tales ring with truth while others are misleading wives’ tales or the fanciful mumblings of a town drunk.
Some of the villagers kidnapped in the night return as feral, bestial monsters!
The keep was ruled by chaos lords. Even after their defeat, their corpses were never discovered.
Beware the well! It has swallowed many a poor soul.
The great treasure vault of a lost dynasty remains hid- den beneath the keep.
Nothing good can come of disturbing the evil ruins. You’ll only unleash the horror beneath the hill.
You stand before the ruined keep, which squats atop a low, craggy hill, its walls of toppled stone and massive granite blocks hinting at forgotten battles and the clash of mighty armies. Now the ruins seem host only to creeping vines and the foul miasma that drifts down from the keep.
The air is overrun with pestilence. Fat flies bite at you incessantly, and clouds of small black insects choke your every breath. The long- abandoned land is strangled with thorny vines that drape the sickly trees and hang from the ruined walls. There is an odor of rot and decay, as if the hill itself were decomposing from within.
A sight gives you pause: a ragged banner, depicting a crimson skull on a black field, stands high atop the ruined walls. Whatever lurks within has terrorized you and your village for far too long.
You turn to your companions and ready your meager weapons. The time for retribution has come.
Sharyn will lead the way with her Handaxe and piece of chalk to mark anything dangerous. She's supposed to be lucky at finding such things.
Rosco and Garwyn will follow with daggers drawn and held before them as if in protection from invisible foes.
They will all cautiously walk along the walls until they find a way in or possibly a place for Rosco to climb with his rope. The all look around warily and make sure the rest of the angry villagers are nearby.
"Keep your eyes open for our missing friends. I heard some of them turn into monsters and come back from the dead.
Wipan hangs back slightly but makes sure he's not stuck unprotected at the rear.
'Beastmen raising the dead? I suppose it's not impossible, but I find it highly unlikely.' The boy tries to sound confident but grips his dart tightly and his eyes dart about in a near panic.
Bekore strolls along chewing a blade of grass with his pitchfork resting against his shoulder, appearing to be going about another day in the fields.
'Someone ain't been doing their chores' Bekore tuts to himself, eying the state of the keep.
Storhan remains quiet but falls in behind Rosco and Garwyn. He draws his dagger but carries it down at his side at purse cutting height.
"Or maybe they just get turned into them...I don't know...just keep your eyes open....gaaahhhh....stupid bugs...are we there yet?"
Shyrin leads her pack with shortsword in hand. The tall woman feels rather out of place amongst so many villagers armed with spades and hatchets, walking with the poise and readiness that comes from years of practice. It breeds a bit of confidence - though her obligation at this point is only to the garishly dressed halfling behind her.
Mitsy, the diminutive gypsy, walks behind her with wandering eyes and a wide grin at the idealized prospect of what lies within these ruins. Diego, or Smiles as he he prefers to be called, slinks behind her with a jaunty tune on his lips. There are a lot of people here to help 'save the town', but these three are in it for the money. Less at stake, more to gain... right?
As they all slowly ascend toward the castle, Mitsy squints through the gnats and the miasma to try and view the black and crimson banner. Being a gypsy, she's traveled a lot and knows the significance of symbols. She hopes, perhaps, that she recognizes or recalls something regarding this one.
Meanwhile, Shyrin chuckles from up front, calling back to Diego. "You don't suppose that's a little over confident, bringing that chest along with you?"
At the rear of their small band, Diego smiles as well - revealing the characteristic gap between his two front teeth. "Don't be jealous," he calls back, patting the small chest held tenderly under his arm, "and when your hands are full of everything you wish you could carry out, maybe I'll let you rent some space."
You recognize the banner as belonging to the Chaos Lords. You'd heard tales when you were young of a pair of brothers, vicious, cunning and merciless.
Legend says they raised this keep and pursued a reign of terror upon the nearby lands, until an allied force of humans, dwarves and elves rallied together in a crusade against them.
"I recognize that banner," Mitsy whispers to the others, her voice a bit more cautious now than it had been previously, though not quiet enough to hide the hint of smugness. "This isn't the first time this keep has needed cleansing. There were Chaos Lords that used to reside here, brothers in fact. They flew that banner then, and they're reign of terror grew vicious enough that a crusade was formed to finally end it - an alliance of humans, dwarves and elves. I doubt they would have left that banner standing."
Shyrin looks around at the motley crew of villagers and misfits. "We're no crusade, Mits...," she wonders openly, adjusting her grip on the shortsword. "So I hope this is just some copycats, or vagabonds that found an old banner."
"Yeah, but we have something that original crusade lacked," the halfling gypsy replies with a smirk and forced bravado. "Halflings."
The following silence is less than encouraging.
'Maybe it's left over from the last time they were here? It does look pretty torn up. Maybe the beast-men can't reach it?' Wipan counters.
As you get closer to the hill, you observe there may be multiple ways to enter the keep.
The nearest is an old dirt road, now overrun with weeds and sickly vines, rising towards the ruined citadel. A grisly sight bars your way: a pair of bodies, secured to poles by long ropey vines. The wicked vines have wormed their way inside the bodes’ eyes, ears, and mouths. To your horror, you realize the bodies are still moving.
Looking beyond, you see that the keep’s walls rise 30 feet from their rammed earth embankments. It looks from afar that parts of the top of the wall are uneven, suggesting there may be collapsed areas.
Gregor, Mucks, and Candy peer out from the rear of the group. The wobbly scribe and the cutpurse seem practically ready to bolt from the scene, but fat old Mucks shoves them forward with a growl. "C'mon," grunts the Miller. "We've come this far. Might as well keep going."
"Nothing good'll come of this," grumbles Gregor, the scribe that can barely stand. He coughs and covers his mouth. He wipes a bit of drool away from his mouth when he finishes. "Ain't smart to go disturbin' old places like this."
"Yeah, well," grunts Mucks, "I got me a wallop an' a bottle o' blessed water, so stuff it."
Candy doesn't say anything. She just gets behind the handsome shoeshiner, Rosco, and tries to make sure to stay in the middle of the group, so she doesn't get stabbed first.
At the sight of moving bodies, Candy shrieks and chucks her empty chest at them. Then she shrieks again.
"What the hey?" What if you knock one of dem loose? Den what?"
Says Roscoe at Candy.
"Shucks, they ain't hurt'n no body. I say we avoid dem tings and go around the back. Maybe we can climb that there wall with ma rope and avoid some fight'n?
Garwen and Sharyn both nod in agreement because Roscoe has always been the smart one of the group.
"It's wigglin', ya dolt!" Candy cries out. "And I don't like it! It could, uh, jump down from there and eat us!"
Mucks just heaves out a sigh. "Don't forget to pick up yer damned chest, Candy."
The thrown chest misses one of the bodies by several feet and lands in a mess of weeds and vines. The bodies continue to sway and move beneath the vines.
"There's a warning you can't mistake," Shyrin mutters as everyone takes sight of the dangling bodies. "And I don't think there's a good way to get up to those walls without taking this path."
Careful not to get too close, Shyrin tries to get a look at what's making the bodies move. Maybe it's just some rats or other scavengers - since those bodies certainly aren't alive anymore. And if it is, in fact, the bodies that are moving, then she doesn't want to leave them behind her.
"I can't tell if it's actually the bodies that are moving," she continues.
"Here's a good way to check," Mitsy says, beginning to twirl her sling overhead. "Knock the head and see if anyone's home."
*****
Wipan watches the experimentation on the bodies with academic curiosity.
Bekore eyes the vines warily 'Ain't never seen no vines like them before.'
Storhan hangs back and grips his dagger a little more tightly.
Mitsy's stone hits one of the corpses in the ankle, causing it to slide to the ground.
It slowly rises again, animated by the vines which entangle and feed from it, and it is joined by the other corpse as well.
They shamble toward the townsfolk without sound and raise their dead arms in striking position.
Wipan flings the dart he was carrying at the shambling creature.
'Back! Back! This doesn't seem to be any kind of beast-man'
Bekore continues to move forward at a leisurely pace. He eyes the creature up and down before bringing his spear around and thrusting it toward the creature
Storhan flips his dagger over and deftly catches it by the blade before throwing it at the creature.
"Why's everyone got to piss off the dead?!" growls Mucks as he strides forward brandishing his club. "Piss off!" he grunts as he swings at the walking corpse.
Candy does a foolish, brazen thing and rushes forward with her dagger in hand. She joins Mucks in the melee, stabbing forth.
As for the scribe, well... He chucks a dart from twenty feet away.
Crit...wooot
"Strike to foe’s kneecap. Inflict +1d4 damage with this strike and and the foe suffers a -10’penalty to speed until healed"
Wipan, Bekore and Storhan attack the first Vine Horror with mixed results, but manage to do some damage to the creature.
Mucks, Candy and Gregor fare much better, and between them they manage to fell the second Vine Horror!
The host corpse falls to the ground, lifeless again, and splits open. Thousands of small seeds, slick with mucus, pour out of the corpse's shell onto the ground and start moving at an extremely slow pace, just barely noticeable.
The standing Vine Horror whips the long vines coming off it's arms like flails, striking at Bekore and Storhan!
Bekore is struck as the vine lashes across him leaving a bloody streak on his chest. Storhan is luckier and the other vine misses him.
Mitsy stands in shock, with her mouth open slightly and eyes wide as the corpses slid down from their posts. The whole charade had been a misguided attempt to assure the others that there was no need to worry about these gruesome totems.
Shyrin, however, was much more prepared. Even as others rushed to the fray, and the horrors lashed out at both Bekore and Storhan, Shyrin leaped in with her sword swinging high overhead as if chopping wood.
Diego watches with morbid curiosity as the first horror spills open, noting the slight movement of the offal seeds (what a pun!). Rather than try to wade in with Shyrin, he rushes for Mucks, Candy and Gregor - attempting to pull some of them back from the gore. "These things are still moving! Give them space chums."
Shyrin lashes out with her sword and misses the Vine Horror.
Garwen and Sharyn both try to attack the creature with no success. Then Rosco lashes with his dagger and strike's the corpse's kneecap. The creature stumbles and falls onto Rosco's dagger and finally onto the ground, once again fully lifeless.
Like its companion, the corpse splits open upon death and countless seeds spill forth onto the ground, slowly moving as if searching for a new host.
The group stands triumphant as it has achieved its first victory against the forces of darkness! Perhaps, just perhaps, you might stand a chance in this foolish endeavor!
As you look at the remains of the two corpses, your recognize them as Keary and Alban, sons of the village smith. The brothers vanished from the village eleven days ago.
As the group stumbles away from the lurching seeds, Gregor snaps his fingers and makes an "Oooo!" sound. Then, he suggests, "What if we set those seeds aflame?! That would show 'em!"
"Wait," blurbs Candy. "Innit those two the smith's sons? Oh... Oh no, I really don't want to be here..."
Mucks just glowers at the scene.
Rosco cleans off his Awl and sees the little critters. He says...
"Between us we have flint and steel, we have wood and rags from these dead ones...I says we burn em and these maggots too so they don't spread.
Once the dead are dealt with, Rosco starts looking for a place near the tower that we can toss up a rope so we don't have to go through the front door. If he can't find one, he'll see if there is a main entrance.
As the whip-like vines strike Bekore, the hearty-seeming man appears to fold under the mediocre onslaught. The farmer's life blood begins to pour from the welts on his face.
'Oh no, Mr. Bekore! Can anyone perform first aid?!?!' Wipan stirs himself into a near panic.
Storhan retrieves his dagger and Wipan's dart from the now re-corpsed corpse. He watches the fallen farmer's slowly dying body with mild interest.
As you go about dealing with the dead, you notice that one of the corpses is carrying a short sword and a dagger.
"Yes!" Shyrin agrees heartily, nodding toward Rosco. "Let's burn these things, and be mindful of vines as we continue."
"If we start a fire, however," Mitsy interjects, "we'll lose any element of surprise we previously had. Whoever's in these ruins will know we're coming."
Shyrin dismisses the statement with a simple shrug. "Hell, let 'em know. We're a mob, so they likely already see us. Plus, if these are the sons of your smith, I imagine he'd rather we see them off with a prayer or something than leave them puppets like this."
Mucks finally notices Bekore's corpse. He takes a deep breath, steps in front of it, and says a quick prayer:
"Ehh, he were a good man and s#%@e. Raised fine radishes, even if he sometimes only raised three or so a season. Could throw a punch alright."
With that, Mucks gives the corpse a salute and nudges the pitchfork with his foot. "Alright, so let's figure out which of us gets this and then let's burn the damned mossy seed stuff." He yanks off poor, dead Bekore's shirt and starts ripping it up to use for the torches.
Gregor just gapes at Mucks like he's a madman, and Candy goes to follow the handsome shoe-shining boy, Roscoe. Of course she does.
Storhan kneels over Bekore's body and gathers his belongings. He pockets the coin and hands everything else to Wipan. As he passes the boy the sack and chicken he leans in and speaks low to the boy. Sell the chicken and give the money to the man's family'
Wipan accepts the bird and quickly stuffs it into the sack. The bird squawks for a minute before settling to it's fate. The boy sniffles quietly. 'Sorry Bekore, I hope your family doesn't starve.'
Storhan sets to helping gather material for torches.
For a brief moment, things are quiet as you all listen to the vine horror seeds softly crackle and pop amidst the gentle flames. You pause to reflect on Bekore's passing and can't help but wonder who else may join him before this night is over. You all do your best to put that aside as you remember the purpose of the quest before you and you look forward to see what waits ahead.
The dark, moss-eaten gatehouse towers above you, grim and forbidding. Murder holes, fashioned in the likeness of looming toads, threaten to gout forth flaming oil and tar. Black arrow slits pierce the high stone walls. You can hear the flap of the heretical banner above, hidden from sight by the vine-draped battlements.
The ancient drawbridge has long since fallen away into ruin, leaving only a few rotting planks placed across the ditch. The heavy iron portcullis stands half-raised, the rusty spikes a mere four feet above slots cut into the stone floor.
"Well... No sense is dilly-dally, eh?" Mucks steps on up to the old drawbridge, testing the strength of the rotting planks with a stick. "You think we'll fall in tryin' to cross?"
Candy ignores the question, making a face up at the toad-like turrets. "Hehe. Warts uuup?" She makes a different sort of face, grabs her mouth with her hands, and grins away when she's done. Apparently, this counts as high humor for her. Afterward she squints ahead at the portcullis and ponders, "You think it'll fall on us? I don't like the idea of it falling on me as we go through."
Gregor just pants as he catches up with the rest of the group. He's not cut out for this.
"I have a rope," Shyrin offers. "As long as we can get someone to the other side, it should help steady the rest."
"Mitsy, maybe I could toss you across," Shyrin adds again, with a mischievous grin toward the halfling gypsy. "Like tossing a child, right?"
"You can't possibly have thrown many children!" Mitsy retorts.
"Actually," Mucks says with a pause, his slow brain slowly doing work, "what if she were the one ta cross? She ain't that heavy."
"Could tie a rope around ya, even," suggests Candy, "and then hope ya can cross the bridge without snapping it in half, Miss Mitzy! Whaddya say?"
Wipan walks slowly up to the edge of the ditch and looks over the side. The young man considers the depth and the difficulty of climbing down into and then out of the ditch should his companion's plan fail. He then looks to the rotten plank dubiously. 'I have a bad feeling about this' I wish I could have just stayed home, with the library, and the fireplace.
Storhan tests one of the rotten boards with a foot, placing light pressure on in and increasing unless the board begins to splinter.
'If she doesn't want to risk it, I'll give it a go. What's the worst that could happen?'
Wipan puts pressure on the board and finds that it's sturdy enough to support at least one person walking across at a time, possibly two smaller individuals. It doesn't feel like it can bear any greater load than that though.
"Hold on, boy," says Mucks, stepping forward and gesturing for Wipan to move aside. "I'll go first, just in case there's somethin' we don't see that's waiting to eat us. Whatever the worst is, I druther it happen ta me."
Storhan shrugs and steps aside, gesturing to allow Mucks on across 'After you, my good sir.'
The old miller starts making his way across, keeping his club steady in his hands.
Shyrin hands Mucks one end of the rope, tying the other end around her own waist. "I'd recommend you do the same, so you don't have to worry about losing grip if you fall."
Mucks ties the rope about his waist before continuing across.
Mucks crosses the planks. They creak and dip slightly beneath his weight enough to give him pause, but he makes it across to the other side with the rope.
After Mucks catches his breath, he hears animal-like sniffing sounds and the scratch of claws on stone coming from above.