| Phneri |
Campaign journal from a PF/3.5 homebrew game
Kragg: Half-orc barbarian (narrator)
Vali: Human rogue (cutpurse)
Brendan: Human ranger (swamp-stink)
Grogg: Goblin oracle (fat runt)
Bolthaz: Half-elf Necromancer (skinny runt)
Argus: Human Fighter (pretty-boy)
Excerpt from the tale of Krag.
Oh, you want to hear about Krag, do ya? Well, I'll give ya some taste at least, lad. My stories and the beer are probably the least offensive thing you'll find in this hovel of a tavern.
Well, the beer at least.
I've been working here for a few months now. Keeping folks in line and such. Even in a worn old pile a rotten wood and termites like this you'll find a few folk that want to start something. I usually keep them from it.
Must be my sparkling personality.
The skinny runt and the fat runt run the day to day. Generally they don't annoy me to the point where I see how small a pot I can fit them in. See, they stay smart enough to not try that same old speech about their arcane might being more than a match for me and my axe, and I don't prove them wrong. Keeps it civil.
Like I said, we've been at this for a few months now. The skinny and fat runts feeding folk, me cracking some heads and taking my meals as far from this wretched tinderbox as I can, when I've a favor asked of me during my day to day business.
Now, normally when a snooty, pompous little puffed up snot goes about demanding things of me, I consider taking this length of chain and showing him how I got to be so pretty. It's not a meanness thing, ya understand, just showing folks certain tones ain't appreciated. Anyway, this certain puffed up little snot happens to be able to put us into some work that isn't poisoning people looking for a meal that isn't filled with rat dung, so we headed back to this place. While I was out a few other folk showed up; a pretty-boy fighter, some odd duck that stank of the swamp, and a cutpurse I'd normally have put on his ear. Apparently we were all looking for work.
The work was pretty simple as far as things went. Some gang had taken airs and stopped paying their dues, and we were to de-air them. I wasn't sure why they needed six for that. Especially the runts. I think they might be able to kill a sick hedgehog between the two of them. But hey, we were getting all getting paid, so why not?
I didn't take a minute for all of them to have plans and schemes for finding these thieves, and the cutpurse went off to find some information. Now, normally I'm a patient sort (living with the runts has taught me that), but if you want to do something, just do it. So we went to the market, and I found someone who'd know thieves and bounced him off a few walls until he answered the skinny runt's questions. Just like that, we knew where the thieves were. The rat jumpers, or rat $%^ers, or something like that. What's it matter?
So, we find them at an inn almost as awful as the one the runts work at, and wouldn't you know the rest of the folks get nervous when they see eight of 'em. What'd they think six of us were here to do? Take the money from a blind old elf? So the pretty-boy in armor tries chatting, and I can see that's going nowhere. Naturally. In my efforts to move things to the part where we get paid, I bring myself up to the biggest of the folk there and turn my charm on.
Well, just as I'm getting out my axe to tell this big stupid sod all the things I'm going to do him with it, he hauls off and punches me. Breaks my nose (again), and knocks me through the bench behind me. I'm just sitting and thinking about how impolite that was for a moment, when I look up and see the cutpurse ventilating the big guy from behind. And then is when it starts getting good.
Cuz, you see, big guy's boss don't take kindly to this, and he tries to get the cutpurse in the back. But get this, he's so unfailingly incompetent he trips over his own feet and lands face first in the dirt. I spy it between the two trying to bang on me with clubs and it's about the funniest thing I seen all week.
So, while the two guys are conking on me, I get to laughing. It's a bit messy with the broken nose and all, but nonetheless. I'm still laughing when I pick myself up and put my axe through the mook trying to beat on me. I keep laughing when the other one takes one look at what I did to his mate and runs for the hills. I finally have to stop laughing for a bit when I grab another from behind and rip his throat out with my teeth.
But it's still funny.
By this time the runts have pitched in. The fat one makes with this aura that patches me up ('cept for the nose. Of course), and the skinny one makes a hole in one of them with some kind of magic bolt. Makes it easier for pretty-boy to gut him. Kind of like drilling some holes in a board to guide your cut, ya see. The cutpurse has pulled himself out from under the half a bench he got clubbed with to help finish off the big guy, and all that's left is another thug the swamp-stink has run through and their leader, who's gotten poked a couple times but still seems game.
It's about this time I remember we need to get paid, so I toss my axe to the cutpurse, take the bosses sword on my breastplate, and tackle him. It takes all of a minute up close with my charm and good looks to figure out who we need to see next.
It takes a bit longer for me to get my axe back, drag the boss and the big guy outside, and do some very unpleasant things to them. But it made me chuckle the whole way back.
| Phneri |
Second session, adding:
Allistar: Savage fighter (pointy hands)
Carl: Gnome Druid (other assassin)
So, as it turns out the boss (heh. They'll be talking about what I did to him for WEEKS) wasn't really the boss. More of a middle manager. So we needed to go hurt someone else. I'm fine with that, as the walk gave me a chance to sort out my nose. After about the sixth break it never has really set right. That's not all bad, though. At least I don't smell what the runts cook up.
The cutpurse had figured out that one of the higher ups might be in a rented room instead of the guarded warehouse we've been told about, so that seemed like a good first place to look into. It was in the same part of town, by which I mean bad. The street gangs fight a half-dozen little skirmishes a week out here. No one bothers us, though. I can't imagine why. Somewhere along the way we lost the swampman. I guessed he didn't want his cut.
The two story hole we were to go into smelled all wrong from the start. Sure enough, when we got in there we found some very dead remains and a human with some clawed, pointy hands rooting through a bunch of papers. This set the runts and pretty-boy to arguing while the cutpurse and I asked some questions. Now, I was polite and all, and we asked real nice, but pointy hands keeps ignoring us.
So I broke a chair over the back of his head and dumped him in the corner for the runts to take care of. I can't abide rudeness, ya see.
The papers we went through indicated a change in management, which was part of the reason this room was decorated with the last leader of the Rat...whatevers. About this time pointy gets woken up and starts griping. Then the runts get to it, too. Enough to make a reasonable man downright irritable, I tell ya.
A few healing spells and some goblin tossing later we're sorted and heading to the warehouse, Mr. I-can't-be-asked-to-answer-simple-questions-so-I-get-bludgeoned-with-furnit ure in tow. Seems he's trying to do part of our job on behalf of one of the other street gangs. I figure he can stop some daggers for us, so why not?
The warehouse was destined to be a comedy of errors. The street approach is no good, so the cutpurse, pointy-hands, and some other assassin from some other gang (I get the feeling if we'd just slept on this whole matter we could have gotten paid just sorting out bodies, now that I think about it) go off to go in through a side window. One little squeak from my armor (I keep meaning to fix that joint) and the rogue gave me a look that would curdle milk. So I go off to keep the runts out of trouble. The skinny one's just tried to go in the front to run some con when I hear the crash from the side of the building.
Now some folk, just some mind you, might take a perverse joy out of watching the cutpurse's cleverly laid plans that don't involve people with the common sense to wear armor to a fight go out the window. But me? No, course not. I just get to work saving the skinny runt from the guards about to break his arms off and make my own little disturbance.
I'll be honest, sometimes when I start working it's hard to keep track of just what's going on. I'm pretty sure I killed two or three (must say the little runt did admirably; stabbed one right through the cheeks before he got clobbered into next month) by the time I got upstairs and found things had gone all to pieces. Pointy-hands is on the ground with all kinds of holes in him. One of the rat huggers is blocking the hall, and it seems like the pretty boy and his friends just can't be asked to deal with the two leaders. So I give 'em all a yell of encouragement and head in.
Now, the skinny runt likes to do this thing with acid. Stings like anything when it hits you, but I've never been really hurt by it much. So I should have known better when the mook in the hallway drops like a stone from it. Sure enough, I try to walk over him and he stabs me right through the foot. Course, when I'm all worked up I don't pay a lot of attention to these things, save to give him an axe in the head for his trouble. Made me right irritable later, though. Ruined a good boot and I'm hard to fit.
I finally get into the room and the pretty boy's working on putting his jaw back together after taking out a dwarf with a hammer. The cutpurse is almost as full of holes as the pointy guy, and the gnome who started tagging along is about as bad off. Now, I'm not usually one to judge, but this lot couldn't take care of one half-naked bint with a dagger? So I figure I'll go in and clear this up. As usual.
I take a swing and apparently she does something magicy like the runts do, cuz I go right on by her. She takes the opportunity to put that dagger of hers almost clean through me and into the metal on my back before I even see it move, and it's about here that I'm figuring out why she's been such a problem.
But the thing is, no matter how quick you are or how hard you hit, once you stab someone deep, it's hard to unstab 'em and keep moving. So while she's introducing her knife to my insides, the cutpurse and the pretty boy get in there and start stabbing away. I got a good view of all this, seeing as I'm right next to her, on account of the being stabbed and all, and it seems that she's almost as tough as me. Something's definitely wrong here.
At this point I'm just about out of steam. There's all kinds of stuff coming out of my stomach that should be staying in there, my leg's barely working, and it's a bit hard to hear all the yelling going on around me. I'm guessing I don't have a lot left before lights out are coming.
But I ain't letting this half-naked magiced up tart get away with stabbing me.
So I shove her off me (funny, I don't even feel the dagger coming out, and that should have probably been a worry), and the last things I see and hear are me axe biting into her chest and a scream that sounds like it won't be alive much longer than me.
Of course I woke up a bit later. I'm telling ya the story, ain't I? The short runt had enough juice left to piece us together again. Then we got paid. It was the usual affair, some skinny guy showing up and tallying a whole mess of figures, and finally some tiny bags of platinum being tossed around. Course it would have to be coin that's near impossible to spend on anything useful. I mean, what barkeep's gonna change a platinum coin for beer?
Pointy even took me with to get paid for his deal, and cut me in on a share. Almost made me feel a bit bad about the chair business. 'Specially seeing as his folk paid in money that's usable.
Well, about this time is where it got dull. See, the runts, the cutpurse, and pretty-boy spent about the whole day figuring out what to do with the warehouse we'd just pillaged. Seems the deed was in the papers I'd just found. The gnome had gone bananas over some kind of giant vermin eggs and was all set on telling us why we should keep them. And on top of that, we found some ring or other that got the skinny runt all excited about some count or other. I let him have it, and it seemed to keep him happy enough not to notice when I went to the smiths to spend that ridiculous coin.
Platinum can be useful for some things, I suppose.
| Phneri |
So it was pretty quiet for a few days. I bought some weapons, the runts kept dickering about spider eggs and buildings, and pretty boy went off and figured out some magic of his own.
Great, another know it all who thinks his arcane might is mightier than putting pointy bits of metal into something until it falls over.
Speaking of pointy, it was a couple days after this that the lad with the pointy hands and the skull that attracted furniture gathered me and the pretty boy up for an errand. It seems that a craftsman we had hired for..something or other, I can't really say that I pay attention to these things, had run into some problems. Problems that apparently needed a number of well-armed folks.
So we get to his construction site, and he seems to be trying to renovate a burned out church. I say trying, because someone has been running round the place at night tearing it up, and if anything it's worse off than it was when it was on fire. Naturally we agree to help for some measure of gold. I let the pretty boy handle that.
I'm not one for subtlety, ya see.
After the money discussion the pointy sod goes off any does...something. He spreads the coin round and all, but I can't say he's personable. The face and I go off and scrounge up for research and information on who might dislike the church. I learn all about the past fire and find a bunch of short, pointy holes all over, and right them I'm a bit put off on this whole mess. Two foot tall creatures that can carve stone like I do..well, people, are a bit odd.
We regrouped after that, and the pretty boy found us a rather nice proprietor of magical goods. Sold me some kind of silvery concoction that was supposed to do some good against the tiny, stonecarving folk we'd be facing that evening.
So we get around to waiting, and I have to say those priests are alright. At least going by the quality of the booze they keep. I was just on my third or fourth bottle when the two little folk showed up. Pointy was off in the main hall (conveniently out of reach of any chairs I might come across) and the pretty boy had magicked himself into a pile of wood to hide by a door. So it was just me and the scotch to chat with the two little dirt men who appeared looking for their mistress. You can imagine how that went.
We were still chatting when the pointy lad starts yelling. See, the proprietor of this temple had shown up, and he decided to start accusing. Whole mess did nothing but confuse me. Then things started happening fast. The little folk stopped chit-chatting and heading off to the hall. Then I heard some yelling and stabbing, and decided to head round the corner to watch the show.
I come around the corner when I see him. Ya ever run into the man who murdered your family, drugged ya, beat ya, and sold you into slavery when you're carrying an eight foot spear made for putting people's insides on their outsides? If ya had you might understand a bit of what I felt when the world went read and I headed to rip this man asunder. See, I'd figured out the cleric of this temple was likely a slaver, and going to die for his proclivities at my hands, but this was icing on a cake I hadn't even known about.
The problem was the priestly slaving git who was somewhat in the way. See, he's between me and the man I've sworn blood vengeance on, so naturally I lay him open with the spear. Turns out he had more to him than the fancy armor and silk clothes told, cuz he took the hit and did something with magic to me that hurt almost as much as when that half-naked tart stabbed me.
He wasn't so pretty after I got out the spiked chain, though.
After his boss died the slaver tried to run, but it didn't matter. He just died tired. I threw the chain through his back and popped some of his breathing apparatus, then went to work with a spiked gauntlet and a dagger. By the time I was done I knew two things. This man was far too young to be the man who sold me, and his father was going to have to suffer a closed coffin when he buried his son.
I suppose that can satisfy me for a bit.
When I limped back in (whatever that priest did to me kept getting worse for a while) pointy and the pretty boy had cleaned up the rest, and the two little dirt men were still looking for their mistress. I had cleaned off my weapons and gotten everything back in order (and a bit of healing from the pretty boy) just in time for the two midgets to find a trap door. We all headed down just in time for me to find a new reason to drink.
Not only had the cleric we killed off been a slaver, but he had swiped some other magicky wench. And that was all I needed.
| Phneri |
This new magicy wench didn't seem to want to try to stab me to death, so we let the two little dirt folk free her and I sat back and bled internally while the pretty boy chatted her up. The conversation ended with me getting patched up a bit and the pointy lad trying desperately to carry the wench home. Reminded me of a puppy I had for a bit.
We get the girl home, and it turns out she's ridiculously wealthy. That worked out well for the others. I laid off any other claim to loot after we went through the priest's corpse. Turns out his breastplate was made of mithral, and seeing as mine was all full of holes and dents and blood I made a swap.
After our rewards (and some tasty dinner) we headed back to the new inn. Yeah, I know, you thought this hole was bad. You should have seen where we started. The runt finished patching me up and headed back to the kitchen, and the tall one sat in the ridiculous chair we had looted from the thieves a couple days ago and listened to us catch him up. The cutpurse had wandered off on some job or other, and we never heard from the gnome again. We had some other visitors, though.
We had made enough coin to get a few sundries, and of course to get the taste for more coin.Funny how that works. After asking around for a bit the pretty boy comes back all excited about some grand opportunity he'd gotten hold of. Next time I'll know to ask what the job is before I agree to his nonsense.
After some subterfuge and other nonsense that wasted time I'd have rather spent drinking we got a job from some noble. Turns out she's the mother of the magic wench we'd rescued. And now we're to take her off to some sort of nunnery for her lot. Of course she don't know where she's going. And won't be too keen on the mess when this comes out.
Fantastic, a week in a cart with the pointy kid fawning over this noble's daughter and her screaming at us for half of it. At least I got to go back to riding again. Hadn't been on a horse since I was the goblin's size.
The noble's wife created a distraction for us (don't ask. I didn't) and we snatched the girl and a guide and went on our way. We'd acquired some horses and the runt had a half-decent wagon that the girl was content enough to ride in. Everything was going nicely and me and the guide were riding a nice distance from the yammering and the pointy lad's fawning when there was a shout and the wizard took two arrows in the chest. There was an ambush, and the folks had nets and poisoned arrows.
Of course the whole idea of kidnapping us (likely for slavery) didn't set too well with me, so I spurred my horse at the nearest one and opened him up to the morning air while our guide went to work on the other group. He was a bit like the magicy wench, and had all kinds of creatures wreaking havoc on them.
My group was figuring out that poisoned arrows weren't gonna cut it when my ire was up, and the nets just meant their hands were full when I stabbed them. One decided to get in close with a club, so I ripped his cheek open with my teeth and stabbed his throat open with a spiked gauntlet while he screamed. He was too busy making funny noises to bother me any more. And dying.
It was about this time that their leader trips my horse up. I land right, but from the screaming I don't think the horse is going to be riding again. I swept his legs from under him and was about to treat his legs like he'd done to my horse when he tries to surrender. Says he's a slaver and his guild will pay ransom.
To me. The slaver asks for mercy.
Well, we'll just say there wasn't much left of him to be asking for anything after a bit, and we'll leave it at that. I do forget some of what I get up to when my temper gets the best of me, after all.
I never did find those iron spikes I'd brought with me after that day, though.
| Phneri |
The trip through the swamp of hideous death could have been better.
I'm not sure how the guide we had talked his way into leading us to the magic wench's new home, but I'd left better prepared piles in the woods. Sure, he could conjure up guide dogs and such, but he couldn't find north at night with a compass and a clear night.
I know, I watched him try. With my compass.
So after the quicksand, and flesh eating beatles, and the bad directions I finally took the lead. We really should look at qualifications for people once in a while. I'd have brought it up with the runt but he was still full of arrow holes.
I did at least get to see the pointy lad get his just desserts for all of his fawning and moodiness. The magicky wench cold-cocked him in the middle of the night when things didn't go her way yet again. I about woke the whole camp laughing.
There was only one other incident before we got to the nunnery, or whatever it was supposed to be. A pack of lizardmen ambushed us, killed the guide's pet monster, and put a couple arrows into me and the pointy lad. I was about to put a half-dozen javelins into their leader (the usual challenge for leadership nonsense. I just wanted a clear line to get to him and do something terrible to him with that bow) when more lizardfolk showed up. This group had axes and seemed to be a bit angry at the folks with bows.
Naturally we got involved, and the pointy lad and the pretty boy did some reasonable work between the two of them while I took the left side and the surviving leader (here's a hint, wasn't the short dude with the bow). The angry guy came at me with an axe, so I swept his legs and opened him up while he was layin' down.
Before he died he threw the axe at me, of course, but it was all right. The pretty boy patched me up (he's been getting better at that) and I got a new axe. We all ended happy.
Well, except for the magicky tart, but it's not like she counted.
| Phneri |
(2fer to catch up from the last couple sessions)
The trip back through the swamp was largely uneventful. Mostly because we ignored our “guide” and got a proper map.
On the way we did run into a largish toad. Large like a smallish house. It went the way of most things; I hit it, it tried to eat me, I introduced its insides to spikes and teeth until it died.
Oh, yes! It was also quiet because we lost the pointy lad. Apparently he elected to stay behind with the summoners and the magicky wench. Poor lad just didn't know when to leave it be. We wound up with a walking tin can we had to escort back. Almost as bad as our guide in the swamp, he was. Who wanders through the muck wearing a hundred pounds of armor and without so much as a proper compass or walking stick? Shameful, it is. No wonder he needed us to take him back.
So we got back, washed (something about the insides of toads just doesn't come out of clothes) and went back to the magicky tart's parents to inform them we'd successfully abducted her to this school.
In retrospect this seemed like a dumb idea, but the pretty boy was sure it was turn out well.
Fortunately the pretty boy knew more about nobility and all their nuttiness than...well, everyone but me knew about traveling outside a city in the slightest. We were all rewarded with another pile of coin, even more unspendable on proper food and drink than the last.
I've come to expect it by now, really.
So the others went off to find some work, and I had a few nice things made for meself. I even made some drinking money on the side when I found one of the other taverns had a backroom boxing ring. After axes, knives, giant frogs, arrows, and the occasional giant toad another broken nose was nothing when I traded it for more coin.
About the time my new things were finished (well, save for a nicer breastplate this dwarf was making me. That was gonna take another week). The guide and the tin can both had work of sorts for us. Well, kind of.
See, the tin can wanted a few weapons, and the guide wanted this magic book. Neither really had any idea where they were, and neither had any real money to offer. The pretty boy, though, he found a couple trade caravans that were going that way. So after a lot of debate we decided to head to the Bronze Desert and look into one of these items on the way.
At least someone was paying us.
Well, long and short of it we got going and were about a week out through some magic gates by the time we realized the runt wasn't with us. Seems he'd locked himself in a library and not come out. Of course the pretty boy tries to pin this on me, but I figure even the runt can look after himself.
The trip was fairly uneventful for the most part. I rode out front, cuz once again I remained the only one in the party with any sense of the wilderness. It wasn't until a week had passed that things went sideways.
See, we got to the town that was to be our first stop, only it wasn't a town anymore. It was more of a burned out wreckage with some writing on it. In Abyssal. And while the pretty boy couldn't understand demonscratch, I knew enough to know we should leave and never come back.
We basically rode for the next eighteen hours, and I dropped as soon as we stopped at a larger city. At some point some guard types woke me up and took me to a bunch of uppity ups to tell them what I saw. I was still a bit tired, so I wasn't at my politest. Bones might have been broken. It's not important.
We had just rested and profiteered a bit off the newfound panic when everything went bad. A whole mess of demons and other things that shouldn't be here showed up, and demanded our surrender.
Well, I'd seen enough of prisons and servitude to last me a lifetime, so I got the horses and the others and we left. It got a little hectic here and there, and the guide proved his worth by sending one of his summoned pets into an ambush, but we got away. Or so I thought.
When I saw the demonic spider wandering into our camp, the guide's pet in its hands, I just had time to stick him with a javelin and run. Turns out the spider thing had some magic, because it hit me with someone and the next thing I knew I woke up in the camp. Pretty boy said I'd been a stone statue for two days.
And well, that's when we met you, of course. You sent us out to find the tool that had been used to banish you in the past, and we got that back so no one else can use it. We got our smattering of rewards and the runt got a big surprise when he showed up decked for battle in the middle of your army. He brought my new armor, though. that worked out.
But then it came to the boons. Everyone else got their thing, and the pretty boy worded his request just so for something quite nice...well, at least he seems happy with it.
And now it's just me left.
Well, here's the thing. I don't want magic, or gold, or fame. I want purpose. Focus.
My whole life I've been looking for and killing those who would (or have) taken me and those like me and forced them into servitude, but what do I do most days? Sit around keeping a bad cook and a worse barman from being beat on by ogres.
Even going for your thing we had to take another with us, and rather than let her go I allowed her to be forced into making our path easier. I stood by and let our guide and his magical pet do something that I should have taken his hands for.
And now she's dead.
What I want is to lose that uncertainty and doubt. To become irresolute. And to have the strength and power to punish those that deserve it.
So, what can you and your demonic hosts do for me, now that I've done for you?