There are reasons why Friday the 13th is considered to be an unlucky day. Reasons like my car breaking down on me as I was driving home for school. Engine or battery trouble, I’m not real sure. So, now I’m deprived of transportation I like. I have to drive my mom’s car indefinitely (she said it wouldn’t take too long to repair the car, but she said that when it broke down the first time…two years ago…). Her car is a little massive for my tastes, but I don’t really have a choice. I can only imagine the awesomity of just sitting at home, having all my homework/notes/tests appear on Edline, being free of people that don’t care for me (and vice-versa), and just having school at home.
…Anyway, on with better news…
I’m really surprised with how well D&D turned out yesterday. Ian didn’t show, but everyone else really enjoyed themselves. The players (minus Ian) met up at a wayside shrine to Fharlanghn (the god of roads), all on the way to the same village. The PCs weren’t going any further for the night because they’d been traveling all day (or in Lord Freman’s case, six years) and the weather was awful that night. Besides, the married clergy couple that were maintaining the shrine were very welcoming and had plenty of food to supply our would-be heroes.
Things of note: comedy and light-hearted mood. When Lord Freman entered the tent, he saw the other PCs…Sigmund (David’s PC) and Tharivol (Steve’s PC, whose name I incorrectly gave last time). Since Tharivol has a poor charisma attribute, so he was described as having horrible table manners. What a great description…”On one end of the table, you see a human cleric eating with etiquette. On the other end, an elf is wolfing down soup at an alarming (but amazing) rate.” Another good scene was Sigmund hitting on the woman who ran the shrine, right in front of her husband (though, in Sigmund’s defense, he didn’t know).
Anyway, the PCs stay and since Tharivol is an elf, he only needs to sleep for 4 hours. He wakes up, and hears something moving in the trees. He walks out into the woods as a young, beautiful elven woman walks in. Tharivol ignores her and follows the sound to its source: an elf, armed with a crossbow, scoping out his target in the tent just some yards away. Tharivol was so quiet (impressive, since the ground is soaked from last night’s storm), he has the jump on the elf. He takes aim with his longbow, fires…
…and misses! The arrow whistles through the tree’s leaves, pelting the elf “assassin” with drops of rain. This does not deter the elf from his mission. He fires a crossbow bolt that penetrates through the tent’s cover and hits his target, the male cleric of Fharlanghn. The cleric and his wife were preoccupied with talking to the elven woman, so they didn’t expect this event in the least. The crossbow bolt punches through the man’s left lung and heart. He collapses to the ground, dead. The wife lets out a scream that awakens Lord Freman (Sigmund lets out a loud snore) falls to her knees and tries to see if she can heal him. Before she can even check the pulse, however, the elven woman takes out a mace and smacks the now, single wife in the back of the head, killing her too.
The party is incredibly pissed now, and Tharivol seeks to redeem himself. The elf “assassin” (I’m using quotes because he’s actually a low-level rogue), having been spotted but killed his target, attempts to flee the scene. He jumps out of the tree, but on the way down, he’s hit in the leg by one of Tharivol’s arrows. Crippled, but still quick, the “assassin” still attempts to retreat. Tharivol will have none of it, and another arrow in the back sends the “assassin” to the wet ground. Tharivol then humiliates his fellow elf by dragging him, through the mud, back to the tent.
Meanwhile, Lord Freman and Sigmund decide to subdue the elf woman. Before the two of them can act, however, the woman waves her hands and speaks in an alien tongue, conjuring up a mist of fog. This fog effectively conceals her from the PC’s sight and frustrates the party’s attempts to hit her with melee attacks. The woman is pleased with the execution of her plan, and is about to make her escape in the woods when she sees Tharivol shoot down her companion. Her escape attempt blocked, she attempts to run the hell the other way, praying to her deity.
The gods did not favor her that day, for as she runs, Sigmund hears her and even anticipates where she’s going. He intercepts her, charges at her with his spear drawn, leaps, and his god-given powers assist him in impaling the elven maiden in the ground. With both killers rendered helpless and harmless, the “interrogations” begin.
The elf cleric is the first to be questioned. She refuses to answer, prompting Lord Freman to lose patience. He takes his greatsword and severs a couple of her fingers, in an effort to intimidate her into talking. The cleric, stubbornly, refuses to talk (or maybe she can’t because she’s bleeding to death, but whatever). Freman gives up, and puts his greatsword through the cleric’s skull, splintering its fragments across the wet grass.
Tharivol, however, takes a kinder approach. He attempts to heal the “assassin”, but can’t seem to stop the bleeding (that, and its incredibly difficult to calm and heal someone bleeding to death, while they have to endure the agony of listening to their friend getting her fingers severed or skull splintered). Sigmund, however, uses his spells to magically close the wound (though, still leave the rogue in a dying state).
The killer talks, spilling the beans on whatever the party needs to know. The two killers were hired by an elven man named Searos, the local town priest for the church of Corelleon Larethian, god of the elves. He recently resigned a few weeks ago for unknown reasons. He has been hiring criminals to murder victims. All he asks in return is for loyalty, secrecy, and the victims’ bodies, presumably to build an undead army of skeletons and zombies and the like. The killer talks, but then asks for a request: that the PCs do not kill him, and instead, take him to jail and let the law decide his fate. The party agrees (with Lord Freman even asking his god for forgiveness because of what he did earlier, and possibly realize diplomacy is a more rewarding tool than intimidation).
With that settled, the PCs took the criminal to the village of Diocese.
Part II coming later…and I like how I switched from a reflection to a narrative of the session in mid-entry.
“It’s Halloween, everyone’s entitled to one good scare.“