GM Tyranius Giantslayer (Inactive)

Game Master Tyranius

Farin circles the giant; slashing at it's calves and thighs as he stays behind it and diving between its legs when it turns.

Krayganspins around charging into the circling giant and shatters it's spine with his lance leaving just the lieutenant facing Wrena nd the air elemental.

The intense flames can't stand up to the more powerful winds as the fire is quickly snuffed out as well. All of the giants lay prone in the chamber as a hushed silence soon takes over. The orcs amazed at what just happened.

As Rogzul returns the stronger orc leans over the battlements with a nod of thanks.

Farin cleans his blades and puts them away. While Rog is talking to the orcs, Farin checks the giants for anything of value, especially keys, messages, and those rings he expects protect from fire or ice.

Jorgan makes an elaborate show of using his forearm to wipe the sweat from his forehead. "Can you believe that bastard? Knocking my reptile right out of the air like that!" He shakes his head in disbelief and then uses some magic to patch his wounds.

cmw: 2d8 + 10 ⇒ (2, 2) + 10 = 14
cmw: 2d8 + 10 ⇒ (1, 8) + 10 = 19
158/159
Spirit: 142/144

Jorgan waits for Rogzul to finish speaking with the orcs and then asks, "Well Rog, are they cooperatin'? I suppose they're ready to get outta here and I'm fine with that. And if they take out a giant or two on their way, well that wouldn't be too bad either. Send them on their way and then let's keep moving. I've still got energy for some more giant killin'."

While Farin doesn't find a ring on the lesser giants he does find several spent vials labeled protection from fire. Seems the frost giants must take them repeatedly while training with the fire giants in such a warm climate. Seems the rings are only meant for the Officers within the army of giants.

All in all Farin finds:

• Large Greatsword (2)
  
• Large half-plate armor (2)
  
• Large +1 Chain shirts (2)
  
• Large +1 Heavy Picks (2)
  
• Amulet of Natural armor +1 (2)
  
• Belt of Giant Str +2 (2)
  
• Potion of CSW (1)
  
• Large +1 Greatsword
  
• Large +2 Half-Plate
  
• Minor Ring of Cold Resistance
  
• A carved stone rod capped with a flat metal trowel blade.
  
  DC 25 Spellcraft:

  This is a rod of Mortared Walls.

  This carved stone rod is capped with a flat metal trowel
  blade. The rod can be used three times per day, in any
  combination of the following abilities.

  • The blade end can produce enough mortar each day
  to hold together a brick or stone wall 10 feet long, 10
  feet high, and 1 foot thick, which takes approximately
  8 hours of work (the rod does not create the other
  building materials, such as bricks or stones). The mortar
  fully cures after 8 hours. The blade produces mortar as
  needed as part of normal use (instead of all at once).

  • If a command word is spoken and the butt end is
  pointed at a piece of rock or stone weighing up to 1,000
  pounds (approximately a 24-inch cube), the wielder
  can move that stone vertically as if using levitate, and
  can move the levitating stone horizontally 5 feet as
  a move action. Each such use of the rod lasts up to
  10 minutes, and the wielder can divide this duration
  among multiple stones (but can move only one stone
  at a time).

  • If a second command word is spoken, the wielder can
  draw a line on the ground with the trowel blade, and
  over the course of the next 10 rounds, the line grows
  a wall of stone at a rate of 1 foot per round. The wall
  is masonry instead of natural stone. The wall grows
  to a maximum of 10 feet high and 10 feet long. It
  merges with existing masonry, or creates a smooth
  seam against natural stone or a wooden frame (such
  as a doorway). This ability functions only if the floor is
  stone (whether natural or worked).

1d20 + 20 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 20 + 2 = 29 Spellcraft (rod)

He offers the rod around to the dwarfs and halforcs and yaktenders in the party should one of them be interested in watching walls of stone grow.

"Rogzul, see if them orcs will provide information, if not, let's get rid of them. If I'm going to summon my hovel, I'd like it be away from prying eyes," Wren says to Squats as he helps pack away the other magic items on yak and goat.

He offers the ring around as well.

* * *

When the orcs are out of earshot, Wren will explain his hovel and subsequent desire to sleep there for the night. He will explain the entrance is invisible, but still would be best to hide that as well.

"Well, where should we rest for the night?"

If nothing else, Wren will put the entrance to the hovel behind the stone barricades (on the right side of the map) with only a 5' wide entrance (forcing squeezing or de-largifying as necessary) to get in.

"They were going to collapse one of the tunnel walls on the giants, but none of you speak my language apparently." He grunts as the others question him about the orcs.

"These ones seems stronger, or at least to still have the resolve of true Orcs. I will ask them to help us, if you have any questions you want me to ask, tell me."

Nodding to his companions Rog turns back to the Orc slaves.

Rogs, that's a damn fine post. Also, Wren probably does speak orc, but also probably doesn't feel like speaking it right now, mostly because he's an a!@&&*@.

Wren looks on, nodding as if he understands.

Farin will slip on the amulet and ring, paying apparently no attention to the conversation. He is listening, however, as he does speak orc.

"They were going to collapse one of the tunnel walls on the giants, but none of you speak my language apparently."

"Of course not. We ain't savag... *cough cough cough*" After their bonding experience in Kaer Maga, Kraygan displays remarkable diplomacy towards Rogzul.

As talk turns to finding a place to rest, Kraygan points to a corner of the cave. "Let's use that rod t' put a wall thar t' throw 'em off," Then his stubby finger swings up to the ledge where the air elemental fought the fire giant lieutenant. "Then place yer magic hovel up thar, in th' last spot they'd think t' look."

Rogzul floats up near the orc leader, or at least the one that stepped forward. His voice changes to common as Rogzul asks for.

He grunts in satisfaction. "These orcs are less beaten than the ones below, though that is because the giants wish to have a bit of sport. They still have some fight left in them."

The orc shakes the metal shackle at his ankle "I greet you. I am Thoon. I was captured and enslaved by these giants. I will answer your questions though we should speak in private brother."

Thanks. On the brightside, Wren being an a$@&~@+ might work in our advantage.

Rog narrows his eyes suspiciously as he speaks with Thoon, trying to read the Orcs true intentions.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24

Rogzul feels as if the orc is nervous and holding something back but otherwise sincere.

Thoon leans in again. "Your allies may join. This is something best not said in front of them." Thoon nods his head to the side at the onlooking orcs whose faces turn sour.

"Get these shackles off us" One calls out in a grunted hoarse voice.

Wren waits to see what happens with the orcs before doing any magics. He doesn't want them knowing where the party is going.

Wren offer the rod to Jorgan to build the walls of which he speaks.

Rog growls at the other orcs, hoping they'll shut up for now.

"This one wants to talk to us privately. Cut his shackles first and let's talk to him, he said he can answer our questions about the Giants. When we're done we can free the rest, unless they have something to offer is too."

"Oy. Got it."

Kraygan takes out his axe, looks for some weak links, and cuts the chains.

Jorgan nods at Rog's explanation as he takes the rod from Wren. "Now this is some fancy magic. When we get back to Trunau I'll be upgrading their security with this, absolutely."

Jorgan wanders over to the tunnel entrances and starts drawing lines on the ground with the rod, slowly erecting walls to seal the chamber off and provide some security and respite for the party for a night of rest. "Now those giants could still break these, but that's where Wren's magic should at least keep us hidden in case they do. It'll waste their time and energy at the least. And if they don't break them down tonight, I can move them tomorrow."

"Sounds like a plan," Farin agrees. "Rog, bring your friend over here."

Freeing Thoon, he follows Rogzul into the magical mansion, looking around in amazement. Looking back he sees eager eyes all upon him and holds his hands out. "I do not wish you any harm. I confess to you that I am not an orc, but you may distrust me if I show you my true shape. I had to take this form to blend in when I was captured. If I had showed it back there they would have turned on me themselves."

Wren creates his mansion, adding a room far far far down a long hallway for yaks and goats and the rest. Wren struts about the place with pleasure, taking food from servants and sitting in a comfy chair surrounded by a large table.

He looks at Rogzul's orc with interest.

"Who and what are you then? You should be honest with us, we are no friends of the giants and have already made some questionable decisions about our companions on this journey," Wren's mind's eye goes to the Red Drgaon while his physical eyes flicker to Rogzul.

"We got dwarf, orc, n' elf workin t'gether here. We won't judge ye." Kraygan grins, then considers. "Unless ye got somethin against yaks. Or beer."

"They are right. We are already unlikely comrades, species that do not often fight as one. Tell us what you are, or show us, it doesn't matter. What does matter is killing the giants, and you have promised to answer my questions about their strength."

Farin stands back in the corner, quietly, watching the newcomer and trying to judge his motives.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (11) + 13 = 24 +2 if he is a giant of some sort

Thoon's face and body begin to twist and form into several different races and creatures at once before finally settling on his one true form. This grayish humanoid creature seems almost unfinished, with a narrow head, gaunt limbs, and a sinister, noseless face.

"I am what is known by your kind as a Doppleganger. Though if it makes you more comfortable to speak with me I may assume any form you wish." The creature shifts uncomfortable expecting a rebuttal by the sharp end of a blade. Not seeing one coming he calms a short bit as Rogzul asks about the questions once more.

"I can't say how many giants there are within the mountain. Hundreds if I were to guess. Thousands even as I am sure you have seen the camps outside." He kneels down as his form blurs into a dwarf out of nervousness. "Past and above this level is the Forge and Officer's quarters. Giants the like you have never met. I have only been to this level once or twice and not seen the full extent." The doppleganger shudders. "Though I have seen the giants take orcs by the score through there. The weak and recently deceased are fed to the dragons. There are literally nests of them kept on the floor. You can hear them moving and screeching like birds in a forest."

It looks down at the floor then back up defiantly and bravely, though with fear in it's eyes. "I have not laid eyes on the King or Queen or their daughter the Princess but I have heard their names often enough. King Tytarian and his wife, Queen Quivixia. They make their home in the highest reaches of Ashpeak in the Temple and Royal quarters. No orcs are allowed near."

"How many giants are here? Who are the King and Queen that lead them, how powerful are they?

Farin drops his pretenses, and exclaims "Dragons?!? Really?"

Now obviously intrigued by the information, he continues. "Giant royalty too, eh? Might be that we need to cut the head off this organization. Not sure how we could sneak past the others though. Maybe Wren can help with that? But what are they doing with dragons?"

Jorgan sniggers; quite the unexpected response. "King Tit-arian," he explains. "And Queen Queef-ixia." The stabledwarf continues to laugh to himself as Farin wonders over dragons and giant royalty.

"Ay, Farin, didn't you know what you were getting in to? We've already had some adventures with dragons along the way 'fore you got here."

"Red Dragons?" Rog asks, unfazed by Thoon's metamorphosis. "What is the name of the Princess? We should rout the entire royal line if we can."

Rogzul grunts as he considers advice whispered in his ear from his spirits, Kashag ruffles its feathers on his shoulder, while peering at the doppelganger.

"Are you willing to help us fight these giants? Do you think the Orcs will help? Are there enough of them to cause a distraction so we can find the royals?"

"I have not seen the Princess, nor know her name, but word is she is more ruthless than the Queen herself. Most of the giants seem afraid even at the mention of her." The dopplegangers form shifts back to one of an orc as he nervously thinks back to as much information on the dragons as he can. "Didn't quite want to get close enough to look at the colors of their scales but there as to be a lot with the amount of orcs heading that way and the sounds."

"I just want to be free of here. If that means helping I am all for it, though I have no weapons or armor and neither do those orcs out there. Their bare fists won't be much of a threat against those giants and let alone a single dragon. What is it you are suggesting" The doppleganger looks inquisitively at Rogzul.

Tit-arian. Queef-ixia. Tee hee.

Wren listens as the doppleganger as he lolls in his chair, summoning a servant to bring him grapes and wine. He listens to the tale that, at one time month ago, would seem like a silly fantasy but now feels like a true reality.

"Dragons? Probably the same dragons that our 'friend' wishes to be free," Wren grumbles. He sips his wine, then begs the servant to go fetch a scone. "We should exterminate this lineage if we can. About time we stopped this giant giant madness."

Can't believe you yahoos aren't making good use of the hovel's servants and foods. Sheesh.

Kraygan grunts when the doppelorc reveals its true form. Knowing little about the nature of such creatures he dismisses it as another freak in the Company of Freaks. There were many times he wished he had the power to change his appearance, though he wouldn't have chosen the shape of an orc if he could.

What interests Kraygan more right now is the fancy magical mansion and the fancy magical feast laid out for them. Letting the others handle the talking, he dives in to handle the eating and drinking.

In a break of the conversation he smacks Wren's arm with the back of his gauntlet, and bellows, "Hey Wren, if ye could summon this, then why're we always eatin dry leather n' sleepin in dirt!?"

"Meh. Wasn't sure I wanted you all inside," Wren grouses back. "Didn't want the smell of Yaks and dwarf farts in here every time I came back." Wren lies easily, but poorly.

"Too late now," Jorgan responds to Wren as he lets off a troublingly long flatus.

Jorgan turns to the doppleorc and says, "Well, them orcs have been through enough as far as I'm concerned. I don't think they need to risk their lives any more unless they're willing. I think we just show them the way out and if they want to cause havoc on the way, all the better."

Jorgan wanders into one of the room and you hear a distant shout of, "I call top bunk!" followed the sounds of excessive dwarf-movement and then a terrible splintering crash. Jorgan's voice comes echoing in from the room, "Well... I'll just take the whole bunk I guess. Sorry, Wren!"

"I can't say that I have any love in my heart for orcs, and don't for a moment think they would be anything but cruel to us, if the situation was reversed. But I also don't like the suffering they have endured at the hands of these giants. I accept a decision to let them be - but just as happy to use them in a plan against the giants as well. Hey, can I get some sausages and berries? "

"Arm them if they'll help us. If they want to flee they'll need to do it without weapons." Rog grunts, clearly disagreeing with the notion that the Orcs might be let free.

"Letting them go means we fight every one of those giants on our own. Killing them all will take a long time, and we need to move on the Storm King sooner than later."

Wrens eyes shut and his full body cringes as the crashing sounds happen from the bedroom. He sighs deeply with closed eyes. I just imagined this place and he's already ruining it.

Still shaking his head at what is becoming of his beautiful hovel, Wren has no arms to give. He does have a mouth to feed, however, and takes another scone from a servant. He dips it in strawberry jelly before eating.

"Not sure we should expect much from that ilk," Wren suggests, hoping the doppleganger had more.

Kraygan nods and makes noises of agreement with Farin and Rogzul.

"Here ye go." He passes a plate of sausages to the halfling, and nudges a bowl of berries closer. "These orcs would do better with some weapons. If we could port back t' th' forge we could resize some o' this giant gear for 'em. Maybe grab some food and a few other things too."

The Doppleganger's mind grows distant as the groups discussion goes in circles. His eyes dart prom the conversation to the table of food and back to the conversation. Thoon's stomach rumbles loudly from not eating much for several days now. The giant's give barely enough scrapes to survive.

As the group continues to discuss avenues he reaches for a handful of the scones from the tray.

Stealth: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (19) + 17 = 36

Quickly with noone probably noticing Thoon jams a handful of scones into his mouth and another into his ragged clothing for later. He speaks with a full mouth. "They... *munch munch*... are probably right. Those orcs won't stand much of a chance without weapons. I can help where I can for my freedom though. I am not bad with my bare hands and have fended for myself down here for weeks now, altering my form enough to get by."

Thoon patiently waits for the group to come to a concise conclusion as they begin to set up for the night with another 20 orcs shackled outside their door.

"We can't leave a score of orcs out there. If th' giants come they'll pull limbs off until they tell 'em where we are."

"How many kin this place sleep?" Kraygan asks Wren.

"How many kin this place sleep?" Kraygan asks Wren.

"*Exactly* the amount we have in here now and not an orc more," Wren cuts back, as he is *not* inviting any more orc or yak or dwarf into the confines of the hovel. He has few magical pleasures left and wants to enjoy the ones he has now. "Not an orc more."

Wren greedily eyes the remaining banquet as if he might eat it all. Seems to hold enough 9-course banquet for a dozen per caster level...so there is a yakton of food there.

"Unless you all have weapons to offer, I'm not sure we can arm the orcs. I can, I suppose, offer some food for them, but that's about it. We should rest and prepare for the royalty above. About time we became kingslayers, I'd say."

Farin wanders over casually to the buffet, and doesn't hear another word as he is loading up a plate with a little of everything.

Eventually, too full to move, he rejoins the conversation.

"Listen, I don't really feel the need to arm orcs. The will find clubs or rocks or whatever anyway, and I am not going to have armed orcs escaping and causing more innocent people to die. If we can hear them toward the giants, it would be a find distraction, but let's face it - if these orcs offered any sort of threat to the giants, they would have revolted before now. Still, I am happy to go whip them up in a frenzy and let them lead the way. I prefer a stealthy approach, but I have come to expect this is not going to be likely with our group."

"I do kind of like the sound of 'Farin Kingslayer, Bane of Giant Royalty'. I think I'll start using that."

"And Wren, can you maybe install some air filters into this mansion? Some of the smells... whew!"

The sounds of dwarven snoring and involuntary nighttime flatulence wafts out from the nearest room. Spirit follows his master into the bedroom but not before dropping some pellets in the front room where everyone else is discussing giant royalty. The giant ram forces its way through the bedroom door, taking out part of the frame along the way, and promptly starts eating the chair just inside the door.

Kraygan looks at all the food. "Well, even I cannae eat all this." Grabbing as many plates as he can carry, he takes some out to the orcs. He then takes out his axe and works to break their chains.

After that he goes through his bags and passes out a small armory of old weapons he hasn't touched since he left Trunau: 6 Javelins, a club, a heavy wooden shield, and a cold iron warhammer.

He then points the orcs in the direction of the collapsed entrance to the lower level, hoping they will hold up there and stay out of sight.

Farin wanders over casually to the buffet, and doesn't hear another word as he is loading up a plate with a little of everything.

Eventually, too full to move, he rejoins the conversation.

"Listen, I don't really feel the need to arm orcs. The will find clubs or rocks or whatever anyway, and I am not going to have armed orcs escaping and causing more innocent people to die."

Rogzul growls angrily at Farin, the rings embedded in his tusks rattling as he does.

"Are you so afraid of orcs that you would ignore a powerful ally, or a distraction that might save you're own hide? Perhaps you would like my arms as well?." He chucks his spear at the halflings feet.

"They deserve to fight as warriors if they want to, and to die honorably with weapons in hand not crude sticks they find in desperation."

Oops, looks like I touched a nerve. I better say something to smooth things over.

"Aren't all orcs evil creatures that would rip apart their own mothers?"

Wren spits out his drink, mussing his tunic and food. He thinks about turning around to watch, but feels better if he was across the room right now.

He gets up and vacates the area near Farin and Rogzul.

"Remember those words when your healing wand runs out and you need me to put your organs back where they belong." The orc snaps back at the halfling as he retrieves his spear and storms out of Wrens mansion to treat with his people and see if they'll fight the giants.

"What? What'd I say?" Farin looks astonished at Rogzul's response.

"Well, if he really thinks we need to be arming these guys, where are we going to get them? What about that training cavern... there were some weapons there, weren't there? Do you think I should take Rog one of these cucakes? They are very tasty."

Outside the orcs eagerly rub their swollen limbs as the braces and chains are cut. Farin walks out to see Kraygan unloading several weapons he had been stashing in his magical pack and satchels around Haggis as he arms the orcs.

Bringing out a tray of food the orcs are quickly distracted as nearly half of them rush to the tray of food while they rest grip their newfound weapons to defend themselves how they can.

Kraygan points out a safe space to hide in the meantime which only causes the orcs to grunt.

"We will cower no longer dwarf." One of the orcs nods in a sense of mutual respect for the dwarf as only two warriors can find on the battlefield. "You lead your group down one path and I will lead my clan down another. We will try and draw the scouts to us to keep them from reinforcing against you. " He grips a spear tightly as the wooden haft creaks in the orcs masculine green fist.

Nice work, Kray. Wren would have never have gotten that done.

Wren nods, agreeing that the cupcakes are very tasty, summoning a servant to fetch another one from the private food room in the back.

Next time, there is just going to be one room for these...and a trough with enough food. And my suite that requires flying to get to. Next time.

Wren wonders about the most recent odors in the air before he retires to the master bedroom to sleep for the night.

On the morning, he will prepare his spells differently, knowing that kings are sometimes hard to kill.

Rogzul spends some time with the orcs, providing them guidance from the spirits and performing sacred Shaman rites that will boost their strength and fortitude in battle.

When he is done he clasps arms with the Orc leading the former slaves.

"You are true Orcs. The first I've seen since I left to kill the Stormlord. I wish I could come with you, join you in battle and slaughter our foes, show them that Orcs are not just made to be giants play things!" He growls angrily, remembering what happened to those in his own clan.

"Fight well. Know what we will kill the Stormlord, and our people will be free to savage and raid of their own will."

When he is satisfied that he has done enough for them, he will rest for the night, seeking guidance from his spirits himself.

In the morning he is prepared for battle alongside his companions and is ready to go as soon as the rest are.

Surprised that any of the orcs can speak the common tongue, Kraygan does a double-take, then nods solemnly.

"Aye. I cannae say I think yer chances of survival are good, though mebbe better n' ours, har! Hit and run if ye can. Collapse tunnels as ye go. If ye keep em diggin, ye might survive long enough fer us to slay ther king and queen. Or mebbe we'll all die tryin. Whatever be our fates, I hope ye get the chance to spit in a giant's eye one last time."