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01/19/04 02:42:17 PM D&D, Dungeons and Dragons, Greyhawk, and the D&D and Greyhawk logos are full copyrighted property of Wizards Of The Coast, Inc. ©2000. The information on the Greyhawk pages is also copyrighted ©2000-3 property of Wizards Of The Coast, Inc. This website is in no way a challenge to those property rights. All information on this site that is not property of Wizards of the Coast, Inc., is copyrighted property of Dale R. Thurber., ©2000-3. You are adventurer # |
We enter Readying nearer our goal - it has been five days of solid travel. I've tried to pass the time by keep my skills sharp and entertaining the others with drum and song. Hawk in particular seems unnerved by the ongoing pressures of the change...He has muttered on a number of occasions about orcs being his clan's historic enemy... We approached an encampment of orcs today. Magnor, in a rare act of compassion, rescued an half-orcish woman who would later prove to be helpful. Imagine that, a kernel of wisdom in his skull. Hard to, I know. His bluff failed, and he was forced to buy the ugly lass. We've now been drafted into Red Tusk's battalion / caravan. Red Tusk is a hulking orc, with more pig to him than most. He's accompanied by a loyal lieutenant of sorts, Urluk, another piggy one. Urluk demanded Catena, the female half-orc (Magnor's bitch - sorry, an OP I know), and Magnor discovered what happens when two orcs in the Red Tusk clan disagree about something - ! Ka'chok ! A brutish game that seems to stir Magnor's fancy - Ka'chok is a game of little skill and much will. A pig bladder is bounced, and then a punch is given to the opponent. Then you must catch the bladder. If you drop the bladder or get knocked out by your opponent you lose. Later, Al-Hasma masters this game of high tactical strategy (yeah, right) easily (Kachok). We forget our troubles momentarily as Al-Hasma makes short work of his opponent, tumbling behind him and levelling him with a well-placed dagger thrust. The crowd is dumbfounded. Meanwhile, Hawk almost gets his arm bitten off trying to feed the giant lizards, or was that Magnor? Al-Hasma continues to be a source of crafty ideas. He approaches things with foresight. We'd do well to follow his advice often. At last the burden I bear of wise leader can be lifted for short times, and I can return to observer. I haven't had much time to write of our events lately, because I'm adjusting to this new form, and orcs are very suspicious of my composing. I must hide my scribblings, lest they discover us. The orcs stole our characters to use in their filthy language, and any literate one (which I know must exist, but have yet to see) would detect the dwarvish nature to my writing. Our party grows smaller. If I dare attempt a metaphor (such trying becomes harder against the call of my new physical form) I'd say the appearance of new friends and the disappearance of old ones is like the waning echoes of the forge. Each new face is hammered into memory, and then, through distance traveled and the raising of the arm, it drifts to a distant, and then silent, place. I often wonder what has happened to those who I first met at Border Post Four before their daring foray into orc-infested mines beyond Barduk. Aliyah, Seraphina, Basil, Darley and even the enigmatic Kanok. Were Aliyah, Basil and Darley successful in returning Forestthorn to the elves of Celene? What has become of them? Have they made contact with the Knights of the Hart? And what of Bioth as he tends the keep...? Captain Gillmore must be marshalling the forces and training them for an assault should we fail. A lot rides on this bold ploy of Celandra's, that little witch crone. Today we ran into some trolls and ogres - it was quite a battle, one that we tried to stay clear of. They wanted some slaves to eat, but Red Tusk was not in a generous mood. The ogres were killing orcs left and right with their mighty clubs. Bodies were flying. Red Tusk and Urluk however, were taking care of the enemy. Al-Hasma was firing crossbow bolts into the trolls, slowing them down, and Magnor charged and took out an ogre or two. Carnage was created. Many of the Red Tusk tribe were slaughtered. But we prevailed. We are obviously making our way northward to Izlen. It's unclear how far we are behind Sir Jalahandar. The city if you can call it that, comes into view. It is situated atop a hill with a river flowing through and around it on the east side. And the stench! Entering the city with the caravan was easy enough. We then split off right away and began to do some reconnaissance. Catena mentioned she had a half-brother who may help. We believe that Jalahander would be taken to the inner Keep as prisoner. As for the Silver Key, it could be with him, or anywhere else. Magnor is thinking of ways to gain power in this city, and isn't above splitting some skulls. We have taken the guise of the Broken Dagger clan in our town dealings. I'm off to gather some more information about the city. My writings become more frequent and urgent to preserve my dwarfhood. There are daily assaults to it. Our quest takes on a sense of epic desperation. We, surrounded by thousands of the enemy, are our only hope. I've gained knowledge about the arena... firsthand, actually. Al-Hasma and Hawk decided they would sign up for an arena match, hoping to get recruited for guard duty. Meanwhile Magnor travelled to see Catena's brother and make some arrangments. We had to change clan names because we didn't want the Red Tusk clan to know of our whereabouts. Al-Hasma suggested Skull-Splitters and it stuck. We won our first few battles, and then they brought out a nasty troll that almost did us in. We downed it though, rather triumphantly, and the whole arena was yelling "Skull Splitters" repeatedly. [ Insert more details about heroics in Krimba-Hai ] We pulled off the heist! It went better than expected. We managed to get assigned to guard duty in the temple. Now we're running for our very lives, as the entire population of Izlen (Krimba-Hai in orcish) has emptied out of the gates after us, including a huge ettin, and a few wyvern riders. Many, many days journey later... (Here ends THE SILVER KEY and RumbleFest CY 593 begins)
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