Færuin

Beyond the Nook and Back Again

The posse
Arouet: half-elven ranger. Neutral-Good, Level 10.
Lombar: paladin. Lawful-Good, Level <unknown>.
Doolie: gnome warrior-priest. Alignment <unknown>, Level <unknown>.
Name <unknown>: dread-necromancer. Alignment <unknown>, Level <unknown>.
Name <unknown>: fighter-mage. Alignment <unknown> (suspect evil), Level <unknown>.
Drenath: kobold sorcerer. Alignment: Neutral-Good (apparently), Level <unknown>.

Unless otherwise stated, all characters are human, and probably around level fifteen or so.

“As the gibbous moon slanted down, the amber orb refracted luminescence into the patchy pattern on the patchwork blanket of still, foreboding clouds. Night was still, quiet, calm.

Arouet the half-elven hunter, move slowly, silently through the trees as a Na’vi… The last of his kind – in this Universe at least, midst the Multi-verse, beyond Zerelia, Tadisaga, and the Nook. After seeing the one and only brother Kygerma-Monastery razed to the ground, a flight in the dark, the Lone Wolf on a new trail. Survival. For he had fallen into a portal, a dimensional rift, in his stumbling around in the dark night of the Færie Forest, in panic, that same fateful evening, many moons ago now. It seemed to him, like a dream. The Monaths turning, the seasonal change, a climate turned from the blustery winds of Autumn time, to the harsh coldness of the winter, flowers that tell of the green shoots of spring, growing in the blustery, windy plains of Færuin (Gæ-Hawk, III.5). Another world, beyond Tadisaga, or Woof-Rup’s Olde Worlde, nor even planet Cow-punk: this is in the realms of Space-Jam’, yet beyond the solar system safety net of Zerlia, Arouets much missed homeland, of Snuggle Nook.

Hiding about the undergrowth, Arouet the ranger had regained his footing, trying to brave the elements, live off the land, and use all of his wits, just to subsist. He was a fully-fledged Kygerman forest-ranger† . Arouet was a tracker, a loner, and a valiant hero††.

† half wood-elf to be precise; Neutral-Good, the usual.

†† weapon ‘specialisation’ effectively: 1 to hit/2 damage with the hand-axe, double handing style, the only other special I took was Extended-Spell Casting [Duration]. Along with the usual Ranger skills with five additional N.W.P. slots in each pumped in most all of them Arouet learned a fair knowledge of history, amongst a few other skills. Speak languages (under-common, elven, common). This character was rolled-up in half an hour, no equipment apart from a set-of leathers (studded), and twin hand-axes. Oh, and 110 gold pieces. This is a pretty run-of-the-mill, out of the box ranger, with very little to make him unique. (III.5 system, not quite the Pixie-Færie campaign, but still, a character is what you make of it I suppose.) I liked the vibe here. They were all seasoned players to a man. A smattering of players were even officially ‘old-school’ role-players, friends I knew from back in the day. The Vampire crew and such.


Alas, what had happened in the time gone by was of no consequence. Now was the present, we see a scene, out of the undergrowth; beneath the massy entrails of the earth, strode out ranger protagonist, stepping surely, slowly and silently through the slime and trash tunnels, that made up this odious place. Having no particular place to go, Arouet wandered aimlessly for what seemed like eternity. Suddenly he heard a cuffufle. Investigating the chamber beyond, secreted well in the shadows, our half-elf silently surveyed the scene…

Happening upon a motley crew of five adventurers, also recently fell through a rift, tearing the very fabric of surreality, Arouet spied an ensuing debacle ‘twixt the fellowship of five, some gorillons, and three Hesperides†. One of the gorillons lay slain. A spell-sword type person, human let loose with a glowing green bolt†† of burning liquid, that splashed and seared one of the monkey-men. Arouet shouted ’charge’ in Elfæn, moved in, and bit into a gorillon with his axe, striking true for the first. In the deadly dance that followed, the ranger spoke aloud, this time in common [Anglyn] “Thought you might want a hand!”

† night-hags; a.k.a. nhags, nags, nag

†† Melfs Acid Arrow. Classic!

Alas, one of the trio of Hesperides swirled, twisted and turned into wind, a ghostly mist, fading slowly out of the firmament. The remaining nhag slashed fiercely, rending flesh from the adventuring company. Gorillons too tore and struck at the travellers, a gnomish priest, who tried to fend off the raging gorillon. Another strikes the spell-sword man, wounding him. Both adventurers seemed unfettered by the grievous wounds they had received. Arouet takes a hit from a gorillon strike. A baptism of fire for the green-horn of Gæ-Hawk world, Færuin. Suddenly, a shadowy pale looking like figure began uttering some incantation in an unfamiliar tongue. His arms moved about a torn dark cloak, when a wave of grey misty negative energy consumed some of the enemy to great effect. [He was a Dread Necromancer as it turns out, and that was the first time he had used that particular spell, whatever it was, Arouet did not know] .

Man spell-sword retaliated, but his blade flew wide of the mark. The sole corporeal Nag swirled about him with lethal intention, also failing to find her intended target. The ruckus continued. A strange gnome warrior-priest tried his Shadow Garotte on the hag, the posse were wearing the evil creatures of the night and their minions down gradually. Thus, the fighting continued. Arouet swipes twice with his axes, hitting squarely both times on his gorrilon opponent, weakening him. Our spell-sword finished him off. Much of a melee was finalised. Another mini-magicker [a kobol sorcerer by the name of Drenath] manages to find and ultimately, the heroes triumphed. The necromancer raised his hands and voice in solemn somatic spell-casting, and in a flash had also raised some nhags and gorillon Before even introducing themselves, the kobold magicker went professionally plundered all the loot, including a periat [an anti-paralysis device in the form of a locket]. The others began to search and investigate the remaining spoils, amongst which was two heartstone [which remedied maladies, seemingly, as well as granting the wearer +2 to all saves].

Arouet followed the cloaked dread-mage down an eastern corridor cul-se-sac [we had to make will-power saves for some reason unknown to us], backtracked towards the parallel passageway and glimpsed a treasure chest. Approaching it cautiously the dark-magicker did the regular drill, “Right, random zombie gorillon-guy.” He ordered the undead minion to pick it up carefully, the zombies’ hands burned up badly, the stench of cremated flesh mingled with the odious lingering whiff of the catacombs and cloisters, beneath the cemetery. These guys were we on it, standard drill straight away it’s “Hand me your knife.” Prizing the receptacle open, they investigated its contents of glittering gold coins and gems sparkling, stowed, squirrelled away blatantly by the kobold, who had caught them up by now.

The man spell-sword took the time to explain a little to the new ranger stranger: how he was captured and tortured by drow when he was younger, became liberated by this very band of heroes from the clutches of the dark-elves, and now harbours a hatred of the black-elves that inhabit the underworld. Arouet had the impression this man had a dark-side to him, an evil in his soul.

Another warrior to emerge from the fray was the fair knight Lombar Pomeranian. A beacon of light, the good guy amongst the fellowship. Upstanding, chivalrous, pure of heart. Next to break the ice was the gnome warrior-priest, introducing himself as Doolian, who very kindly offered Arouet a spare suit of mithril armour from his backpack. The half-elf accepted graciously, reciprocating with one-hundred gold coins. “Keep your money. It is a gift.”, replied Doolian the gnome, refusing payment. “Thank you friend, I am much beholden unto you.”. Arouet donned the new shiny garment, the necromancer said, “It won’t fit him!” Suddenly the once gnome-sized armour magically moulded itself, stretched to fit the new wearer perfectly.

The kobold magicker scooped up more coins as the necromancer disappeared off somewhere. The last that had been seen of him, he was searching for more treasure, but the shrouded mystic had simply vanished out of thin air. People began shouting for him. Listening. No response.

The warrior-wizard searched for more loot. Nowt to be had. The kobold found some more gems from somewhere, and in the process stumbled across the lost necromancer, who’d been magickally teleported, transported elsewhere momentarily. The posse was now back together again, and wandered into the gloom.

Rounding a corridor, the heroes entered a sarcophagus style large chamber. Shattering one of the sarcophagi, we saw gold and treasure, the zombies went in, but their efforts in digging just meant the pieces and stones were merely scattered some more about. Looking at the pitiful amount of coin in his pouch compared to the other adventurers, Arouet fell for the ruse, hook, line, and sinker: straight in to the trap. “Hand me that shovel!”, the elven ranger moved in. Digging up dirt, several morgs rose up from the earth and began devouring the grillon-zombies and he. The necromancer began once again an incantation, his dweomer failed to command the morgs at all, but his grorillon-minions fought back, tooth and nail ‘gainst the encroaching [other] undead. A couple of there blows landed squarely on target, wounding the morgs. The diminutive Drenath darted toward the debacle . Arouet followed him in, and boom! He’s down. Fumble! [since ‘bleating’ in-effect, boasting that HkMster had a d-thou’ table for fumbles, the D.M. decided to implement a D6, no – couldn’t think of enough results – a D4 un-written house-rule On the Flex home-brew fumble result table, the result of which, was not favourable to Arouet] He hit himself! Owch! Doodie rushed in to protect his new found companion, fending off attacks from the deadly morg, striking back in a whirlwind of steel. Lombar too, his longsword falling twice true into the decaying bone of the enemy.

More greenish lit goo bolted forth from the hands of the warrior-wizard, another Melf’s Acid Arrow [Classic spell. Classic.] slammed into another morg. A reddish spherical gem from the creature fell slowly to the floor. The necromancer knew at once what was about to happen and cried, “Leg it boys, leg it!” Like a slow-motion movie dream sequence, the posse scattered and boom! Searing flames fanned all about themselves and the bad-guys, cinging everybody. Heroes dived for cover and only narrowly escaped perishing from searing hot flames that licked their skin with a burning intensity. Recovering from the jolt, the necromancer exlaimed, “We gotta put that one with the red-stone necklace down fast! I don’t think I could suffer another flame-strike like that.” He orders his nhag-zombie to move in, she claws at the red-stone morg, who struck back with equal precision lethality, another morg leaped for the necromancer, wounding him further. A morg on Maxen’s character: Boom! Paralyze tongue attack. I failed my save, down, immobile, at the mercy of Kygerma, for a whole ten rounds! Argh! As he lay down against the cold ground, Arouet yelled “Has no man any remedy for this?” Drenath had the stowed periat-locket, an ideal solution. Thrice times he ignored Arouets dying pleas for assistance. Thrice did Arouet fade into the blackness, his vision engulfed in darkness, as he was left for dead.

From somewhere beyond his perception, the battle still raged about him. He felt cold. Slipping away, but really cold, ice cold. A frost-bolt spell lept forth from someone, closing morgs down. More fighting, the sound of steel crunching bone, echoed by the screams of adventurers in pain. In the fray Arouet could dimly make out the necromancer magickally controlling another morg, Lombar slaying the last one. They had bare survived the encounter, and were, for most part, pretty badly beat up after that.

Amongst the treasure (all of which the Drenath stashed, with the posses consent no less!) was a necklace of fireballs (IV), and a minor ring of elemental resistance as well as a dark-wood chest containing all manner of mithril pieces and a crystal chalice. Here endeth the session.

Maxen.

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