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May 19, 2003

Eleven: Grab What You Can Keep

We waited for the spell casters to get in their meditation or whatever it is they do for eight hours. This is quite dull. Sitting around doing not a lot for eight hours means you have quite a few things you can do. Cards, practice and sleep were on my mind. Sure, we had just been asleep some few hours before, but sleeping on a cold stone floor, even with a bedroll to help you out, is not good sleep, and having to wake up every few hours because you think someone might be coming near, even if it is one of your not entirely trustworthy companions. I know I wouldn't entirely trust me, and I am me.

Nevermind.

(The following journal is from the viewpoint of Foley, a halfling thief, some years later.)

So instead of taking the more obvious route down and around to the main guard rooms, we went back into the grove and down the ramp where, before, giant ants were found. Kumar seemed reluctant, but we convinced him to go all the same. The tanned half-elf seemed quite democratic, in his strong-arm thuggish way. If I had that kind of strength, I would give democracy a little nudge in the proper direction, but in all fairness we were all still learning.

One natural tunnel became another and became a large underground room. The room itself was not natural and was dug deeper into the ground, a ladder going down from the corridor and into this room. The room itself had a central moat, but someone had filled it with sewage for whatever reason. It was probably an orc sense of humor.

Over the moat were three small wooden bridges (of the planks-nailed-together variety, as orcs have no care for craftsmanship), and in the middle were a number of crates, small and large, and a man at a desk. The desk itself was rather well-made, proving that it was stolen. Outside the moat, walking the perimeter of the room, were eight orc guards. Torches lining the room flickered slightly blue.

For the first time I recognized the orcs in armor, and these were among them, all had insignias painted on their shoulders: the one-eyed orc god Grumsch and a pair of crossed oars. Some quick checking on other, deader orcs revealed they all had these marks on their armor. Finally, our once captors had a mark, and marks can be traced for more information.

Near the base of the ladder was a large nest of rags and bits of old tapestry and other lengths of cloth. We know it was a nest because of what happened later, not because there was a sign nearby that said "nest, avoid at all cost". The rolls of dung around it were sizable, and when you are as short as I am this makes it a threat. What would pirates keep as pets that have poop as big as your feet? But none of the rest of my colleagues agreed, and we came up with a quick plan.

It must have been Sully's plan, because it was "rush them". I tried to make sure that Sully knew not to hurt the accountant at the desk, for they not only know where the money is but how much things are work, and they generally cower and whimper when the threat of blood is near. At least, this is what I was thinking, and I know it's what I would do, though I was wrong.

I never said I wasn't wrong, I just said I was better than you, Phedre.

Eventually we had to get it through to Sully by convincing his sword, Susan. Sully was tough and god-touched and I would have used a poison on him if I had to take him out, and then only a very good poison.

Our plan was admittedly more than just "rush them". Colwyn would appease his god for blessings on our lengthy vendetta. We would round the corner of the tunnel, Dane would use magics to make several of the guards sleep and Susan -- I mean Sully -- would take out the rest.

This plan got about that far. I followed Sully down the ladder, half the guards in their unnatural slumber, when a large rodent slithered out and tried to bite me. It was more snake than long rat. Yes, I know it was a weasel now. Except for stories when growing up about the weasel-in-his-pants man the touring circus had and to describe many small-time crooks and fences in Baldur's Gate, I'd never even heard of weasels let alone seen one. So when this thing about half my height tried to bite me, I tried to hit it back. It turns out weasels are slipperier than you'd think.

The accountant went to hiding as the rest of the orcs put crates between them and us (and Sully, mostly) and took shots with crossbows. This was not a problem until another weasel snaked out of its nest and bit the half-orc on the thigh. When those things bite, they do not let go, and the roar he let out made it sound like it hurt.

Colwyn made it down to go put some healing on Sully. Oh, "put some healing on" means that the dwarf was going to do a little in the way of magic. I know you're new and from Cormyr, Phedre, but do try to keep up with slang, okay? Anyhow, a third weasel got him, as well.

It was when Sully was distracted with his weasel that he found out the accountant had the typical accountant skill of stabbing one in the back. I would like to say that became one quickly dead accountant, but he didn't. He was quick and vicious with the dagger and took some doing to get him to stop moving.

We were all rather hurt, whether by weasel or by other unfortunate means. There was one large weasel still asleep in the nest (isn't that always the case, you sleep through all the excitement) but Dane made him nice and dead. No more orcs, no more accountant, and no more damn rodents. There was just sewage, crates, and us.

And the crates. This was quite a find, and I won't bore you with the inventory list, mostly because my memory isn't that good and I forgot to mention that Colwyn, attempting to bind his own wounds, knocked himself completely out. I don't know anything about the whole priest-in-a-poke business, but I do know that you shouldn't try to tie anything around your arm when you're still bleeding severely from a case of giant weasel.

The notes at the desk included shipping reports, rudimentary invoicing (you know, "X bought 10 human males for so much money"), a map of the entire pirate island chain and the export patterns from this island, the main drop-off for the slaves, and the rest of the islands. This was also quite a find.

It was Nosmo's idea to remove our arrows and put in their crossbow bolts into the dead orcs, putting blood on their swords, so it looked like something insane had happened here. Something insane did happen, but we wanted to make it look like something else happened.

Some replacement guards, four orcs, came in from a door at the far end of the hall. It was locked, but they had a key. Dane put them to sleep and we quickly killed them, adding them to the fray. After this point, we destroyed the lock and I set up a quick little trap, just enough to be a loud deterrent.

Sully and Dane carried him back to the holy tool shed while the rest of us carefully went through the crates. Yeah, you didn't think I was going to leave you hanging, did you?

There was gold, there was silver, there was leaded glass, there were clockwork toys, there were bad eggs, there was a clock, and there was a necklace and earrings that Nosmo and I agreed to share between ourselves. Just because I wouldn't backstab my business partners in normal circumstances doesn't mean I wouldn't be glad for a little extra cash. Be greedy, just not too greedy. When you become too greedy, it's worth doing it right and becoming the top dog.

We carried the smaller crates and chests, which had the better stuff in it anyhow, back to the shed and rested. Sure, it'd been only a few hours since we were here last, but as we were bleeding all over the place we thought it'd be a good idea to stop said bleeding. I didn't have a problem with that.

On one of our trips, we ran into a puddle of green that was slowly moving and bubbling. Nosmo shrieked and threw his torch on it. It went nicely up in flames and we tip-toed past.

On our last trip, we heard the rapid-fire sound of someone running, then the louder sound of some quite larger people running after. We tried to make the ramp, but the escaped slave caught up with us. He thought he was trapped (he may have been) and gibbered that big uglies were following. Nosmo suggested knocking the kid out before he gave away where we were, one of the smartest suggestions I heard from the boy.

Instead, Kumar picked him up (he wasn't carrying anything, anyway) and hid in the grove with him while the rest of us fled. The half-elf said two huge orcs, with orange skin and a stare not unlike that of the droolingly stupid, came out, sniffed around and plucked the kid out from next to him without giving him a glance. With that, they dragged the kid back down into the tunnels below and Kumar returned to us in the shed to rest.

Yes, I think it was perfectly fine to leave the kid. He wasn't our responsibility, the things looking for him were huge and we were very hurt. The kid was an escaped prisoner, and though we were here for revenge we weren't here to tell them how to do their business.

Though we were here only a few hours before, it was nice to be back. My bedroll got some more bloodstains on it, but on the whole we all rested well.

It was morning when we were pulled together. Colwyn prayed, Dane and Nosmo read from their books and the rest of us kicked around until I had another good idea. We were planning on taking our new goods (which were worth quite a bit) and returning to the mainland for supplies and a little enjoyment, but I thought it might be a good idea to make sure our boat was still there. This idea was received with some mocking, but it turned out to be a good idea after all.

Kumar and I went to look, each trying to show each other off with our skill. Though I was better at remaining still and unseen, he was the one who saw the boat was missing first, and the first to see the line in the grass that lead up to the hidden stable doors. Neither of us thought about throwing open the stable doors to see where our longboat had gotten to since we were smarter than that. We returned to the shed and reported our findings to others.

On our way back, we ran into a patrol of two orcs. They were surprised, we were surprised, and if it wasn't for Kumar distracting them (by pointing to the side and yelling, "Look!") we may have been overrun. Their distraction meant we could rush them instead. Putting their bodies in the slight and murky moat involved some jumping up and down on their corpses, but better than people finding them just laying around.

Whenever you can, always dispose of the bodies.

With the rest of our business group, we made our way cautiously to the stables and heard the voices coming from it. Someone was talking to their "Lord" and about intruders. This didn't take much intelligence, as we've been picking them off for at least five days. Kumar looked quickly around the corner and saw about ten orcs, three half-orcs and one human in long fur-trimmed robes.

Though not easy pickings, we knew the orcs were and one of the half-orcs had to be a priest. The human, the Lord, would make a good target for our aggressions. So our plan was simple, "rush them".

They were rather surprised, especially the Lord who Kumar reached and made a swipe at, though it glanced off the merchant's robes. I, on the other hand, tried to take out one of the two half-orcs closest to us, thinking they were the priests. I was wrong and the one near the Lord who was speaking was the priest, but I did distract the two from taking out Kumar and, shortly later, Sully as he breezed past to take on the Lord as well. Our anger was clear.

Dane took down most of the orcs with his sleeping magic and Nosmo harassed the half-orc priest with magic missiles, though Colwyn helped keep the caster from getting too many spells off. You see, if you jostle a wizard while they're waving their hands around they might mess up a word and fail the whole spell.

It wasn't a plan, but it was working.

The priest did get one spell off which had words of shame ring in our ears until it hurt, but this was a brief distraction. The Lord was giving both Kumar and Sully a hard time. I was busy with the remaining half-orc, the other felled by a helpful magic bolt from Nosmo. Things went south at this point when the Lord, hard to hit and impossible to kill, fought the two strongest to a standstill. He took out a metal ball and hit Kumar with it, leather straps exploding from it and wrapping him up. The priest managed to cast another spell and Sully and I were held fast, unable to move.

The Lord commanded that we be taken alive if possible, and for a moment it was looking possible.

Nosmo filled the priest with as many bolts of magic as he could, even sacrificing a copy of the spell from his book (I had not known this was possible) for the killing blow. The hold over us faded as I felt the bite of steel across my arm, tearing across the armor pocket with my Number Nine hook-latch tool in it. You remember these sorts of things, because I collapsed and fell unconscious.

All was dark for a very long time, and for a moment I thought I saw some kind of halfling village in a dream, but couldn't move to it or away from it. When I came to we were still in the stables and Dane was pouring some minty liquid down my throat. I didn't feel good, but at least I was alive and the others filled me in.

Kumar broke free from the bonds of his prison right before the priest was killed and was felled by the Lord, who had a longsword somehow concealed under his robes. But Sully, freed, quickly hit the snake-quick human and took him down as well.

Dane, thinking a little too late for me, bribed the half-orc fighting me to attack the Lord for a not-trivial pile of gold. He agreed to at least stop fighting for it, and revealed there was poison on his sword that would probably kill me in minutes.

Colwyn used magic to not harm but keep me from dying. Dane used the last of our expensive pearls to aide him in identifying some unknown potions. Lady Luck smiled on me that day, perhaps in the dream as well, as the first unknown potion was designed to cure any poisons anywhere, and this was what I woke up choking down, but still feeling like a walking bruise.

The half-orc's name was V'roc and he was more coherent than Sully. I'm not sure, but I think Sully was jealous. After being promised another five hundred gold coins to join us in helping him leave the island he was willing to talk. We had been not exactly discovered but a few orcs knew we were here, but they were all dead now. The shape-shifters were working with the orcs. The Lord we killed was in the hierarchy of the people funding this entire operation, though not very high up. The big orange orcs were called "ogrillions" or "orogs" and were so tough they didn't need a weapon, though I suspect they wouldn't know what to do with one if they got it.

He didn't like the holy tool shed, calling it the room guards were made to stand in if they were being punished or if the undead were acting up. Still, this is where we went to wait closer to midnight when we could load the longboat and flee the island.

Sometime during the wait, when V'roc was asleep, I poisoned him with the poison on his sword and he died. I wasn't going to lose a thousand gold to this faithless mercenary, and I was still upset at being poisoned and almost dying myself.

We quickly loaded up the longboat, pulled it out to the ocean (magically silencing the area so we couldn't be heard) and met our waiting boat and who complained about how long we were gone until they heard the sound of money in the chests. The sound of money quells many angers and buys good allies.

Posted by jenkins at 4:01 PM

May 9, 2003

Ten: Death Can't Keep a Bad Man Down

Okay, two of you now have asked me about my apparent atheism. That you even know this word means someone's either been filling your heads with garbage or that you've been getting some real training. I think it's a fluke, myself. An atheist is someone who doesn't worship any gods, which is plainly stupid because that's like not wanting a boat when you're stuck in the middle of the ocean. What I didn't do was pander to them like they were going to be there whenever I was in trouble. You can't go around believing that kind of thing because the world just lets you down, unless you're a priest. I'm not a priest.

Yes, Yeimii has a good point. I ended up here just to torture the lot of you. Now I'm going to continue and no more gods talk.

(The following journal is from the viewpoint of Foley, a halfling thief, some years later.)

Not much more gods talk, at least. There was something comforting about sleeping in the guard shed with all the holy symbols around it, not because of any mystical aura of peace or comfort but because we knew it was safe. I was finally getting the idea of the shape of things and the more we wandered the more it became apparent; this wasn't for keeping people out of the keep but from keeping the inhabitants of this part of the keep from getting into the rest of it. This might explain why they hadn't sent any guards to replace the three that were here when we first arrived. Why throw more orcs after dead? Lucky us, in any case.

After resting, we finally decided to head upwards to check out the second floor, though it looked mostly ruined from the outside. In fact, because it looked ruined from the outside it had to have been a better choice than descending into a nest, for instance, of giant ants, but all we found was a route over some of the rubble. The first second-floor room we came upon was missing its floor and the floor beneath it, opening well into the basement. Someone had set a plank across the gap. Normally, you avoid such obvious traps but Dane said it was stable. I don't know why a wood-elf would know, though he said his master kept a gnome prisoner. I certainly don't want to imagine what kinds of "favors" were done for this exchange of knowledge.

At the other end of this plank were stairs back down, and this was the end of our exploring the second floor. However, it did bring us to a door that was not trapped and not locked. In fact, it was barely even a door, charred so thin that it fell over instead of opening. The room inside was similar, blackened, charred and stinking like an orc's dead grandmother. There are some problems with living in a land of you giants, and one is that smells tend to linger lower, so I was busy adding a little color to the room as the others spread out.

At least I was near the door when Sully found the box. It was a nice box in this wrecked room, which was quite odd. Dane was saying something about motion from above when it became motion from right on top of Sully.

There were, at first, five dirty and wild-eyed humans jumping from the ledge above us, but they became four as one landed on a sharp rubble. Why do people keep demanding on being heroic and leaping dramatically? Is it the stories that bards tell about the deeds of heros? Let me tell you all that it never works out the way you think it will. If you have to get quickly down from above, use a ladder or a rope or even someone else. Oh, and jumping onto a horse is about the same, except you bounce painfully off a horse on your way to the ground. Just don't do it, right? Right.

The humans looked like they hadn't eaten in weeks, living in this little room, hiding from the pirates. The one that landed right on Sully started trying to bite into his shoulder. Maybe even a meal of half-orc was better than nothing. But after a moment, even as Sully tried to scrape her off with his sword Susan, he stopped moving. That's when she started tearing into his arm.

The rest of us were now quite avidly trying not to be scratched. Whatever poison was under their nails, we didn't want find out. Colwyn, then, tried to make these people go away by declaring he was a Priest of Hoar and that the vengeance should be respected. Well, yeah, apparently this is one of the ways that priests try to make the undead respect their presence and flee or, sometimes, to do what they're told. Gods can be pretty clever sometimes.

So these were some of the undead. One who kept trying to tear off my head with his long-nailed hands, but I could stay out of reach even with a hand over my mouth to keep the smell, his smell, from completely knocking me on my ass. It is almost impossible to do this and swing any kind of blade effectively, however. Everyone else was competent in taking out the undead creepy-crawlies. Eventually, Sully started moving again.

We did mess with him a little, first.

Kumar had to pull the chains off the box, stretching the links and marring the box quite a bit, but we just used it for kindling later. There was, inside, a smaller box, a bottle, some money and a fine change of clothes that Nosmo claimed. The boy, we were finding out, was a greedy little cuss. I don't mind greedy little cusses, but he was greedy and clever and good with magic which meant he was dangerous. No less dangerous than the rest of us, perhaps. Hells, I think I was the least dangerous of the whole group. Nothing I didn't fix, later.

The small box was trapped with whatever poison these undead had under their claws, and I got the experience of not moving for a while. They did mess with me for a little, first. Oh yeah, it had an extremely expensive necklace in it.

Kumar made sure the other door out of this room was not trapped, which he did by falling through it. I don't know if that was an intentional effect of the door or not, but none of the dead undead around us looked capable of doing much more than chewing on the occasional orc.

The corridor on the other side eventually lead us to a trap. We knew it was a trap because it was on our side, at halfling-height, leading right to the door handle. If someone was unfortunate enough to tug the door open, a rope would pull a pin which would release a board, bent back and covered in spikes, making whomever opened the door feel very unfortunate. It was no challenge to cut the rope, but we all felt better about it. I did not want a face full of spike.

The other side of the door was a small room that something seemed to like to live in, something leaving large piles of quite smelly dung. Something called "Bad Boy", or that's what was painted on the door. "Bad Boy! Stay!" So the trap was for whatever was using this room. It didn't take a wizard to realize this smaller room opened into what Nosmo was calling the Dog Pen.

We quickly left and reset the trap. We were not fools. Yes, Umak, we were afraid. If you were there and you were us, you would be too. Yes, we know how large and bold you are, now it's your turn to go get me the next drink, but don't use the corner cantina; we've hit them once already today. When faced with the idea of being turned to stone, you all would take the smart way out too.

Nosmo was proving to be more insistent than even Umak, though. While we know Umak would have volunteered to go in and skulk around, Nosmo wanted Kumar to do all the difficult work. Kumar, see, was almost as big as Umak and the points in his ears often unnerved people. Half-elves shouldn't be allowed to be that brutish, but he was. A true intimidator-class troublemaker, Kumar, so his size was what Nosmo was hoping to use against whatever creature was down in the pit.

We did return to the charred room and Kumar did crawl up to the roof from there, just to check things out. What he saw was almost more disturbing than a stone-cold killer in the courtyard. On the battlements around the walls of the keep were orcish guards, keeping an eye out to sea. We had the fates on our side, even if our way was difficult. It was easier to pick off some little things here and there than to be rushed by the entire population of the rest of the keep. Our portion of the keep was otherwise unpopulated, except for the holy garden shed and now-charred stables, and that meant we had a tactical advantage. You look for these advantages wherever you can.

Down in the Dog Pen was a multi-legged lizard, larger than several of us standing together. Kumar, wisely, would not jump down and try to give it a good stab between its shoulder blades or through the head. I could not get the image out of my head of Kumar trying and landing poorly, his kneecap flying off and into the shadows.

Nosmo was still sulking as we returned to our portion of the keep and through the only door we haven't looked through, the only door we hoped would not lead out into the face of a giant six-legged iguana. What we found was a small burial room, a well-preserved, elder man on a table, somewhat recent flowers surrounding his head. Maybe this was the old founder of this keep, the man without whom pirates could not have gained a foothold in this far-away portion of the sea. A man who Sully stabbed Susan right into.

Sully was clearly picking up some of Nosmo's insanity, or so it seemed. When the corpse sat up, surprised and in pain, we swung whatever we could at it. This place was just lousy with the undead. Later, Sully said, "Susan didn't like him." Yes, it was time to start making my way to the rear of the group.

There was a small sub-room hanging off this one, but with nothing more exciting than a spare robe and a door into the Dog Pen. This left us with one way to go: Down. Like Umak's standing, now that he's just returning. What, did you go all the way to the fourth quarter to get this?

Down was a system of rough tunnels. They weren't flooded, and I wondered if there wasn't some magic involved. There were also some smaller tunnels, rounder than the rest, about the right size for a young halfling or a large ant. We didn't go this way. The way we did go was a small cavern with several small pits around a central ladder leading up to a trap door. Kumar volunteered to go up first and take a quiet look around, even in spite of the cut rung near the top that nearly toppled him back to the floor and on his ass.

He said that the door was covered by a rug, which was a smart way to hide a door in the floor. He went up, though, with Sully close behind, waiting when the half-elf said there were a pair of guards in a long room of prisoners. He said this quietly, and tried to quietly sneak up on them, but even I, waiting nearly at the bottom of the ladder, heard him trip and scrape the tip of his sword against the stone floor abve.

Sully just sat there until prodded into action. For all his speed and deadliness, he isn't always bright. By the time we all were off the ladder and into this prison room, one of the half-orc guards was dead and the other looked quite worried. The ten orc prisoners weren't cheering or even looking worried. They looked patient, expecting, and that should have warned us that something was wrong. Though they were chained to the wall, once the other guard was dead they easily pulled out of their manacles and drew the small swords that were hidden in their bedding.

This may have been one of the stranger barracks. Fortunately, after a few days of fighting orcs you pick up their weakest points and even even the smallest man can cut them down.

We grabbed their more expensive supplies and made our way quickly back to the holy tool-shed. I didn't really want to do this, but when a spell-caster shoots his wad, you'll find, they'll go around whining like they're naked in a field of fire-ants. Still, we went back so they could get some rest and we could hopefully maintain our tactical advantage. At least mages are good for that.

Posted by jenkins at 3:58 PM