| Game Master: System: Date: | Ken Dungeons & Dragons 5e Homebrew Campaign 1st December 2022 |
| Characters: | Fayd – Half Orc Barbarian Gunnar Orcsson – Half Orc Barbarian Jaraziah Grimm – Human Cleric (On Hiatus) Iivan – Drow Rogue/Fighter Balasar Aurumingis – Dragonborn Sorcerer Luther Merton – Half Elf Bard Navarro – Half Elf Paladin Hamlet – Half Elf Warlock Dorian Hammerbeard – Dwarven Cleric Tad Hemlock – Halfling Bard (Retired) Tianzi – Half Elf Sorlock (Retired) Yorhorn – Half Elf Paladin (Retired) |
A glimmer of hope…
Narrated by IIvan the astute
A glimmer of hope shone for IIvan. After the lightning storms illuminating a perfectly dark night sky, after meeting a shocking minotaur, after travelling on foot because my horse had a burning hoof infection, crossing miles under a sickening cloudless sky, jumping into the maw of an Ork infested stronghold. A glimmer of hope started to illuminate the fire brigade, renegades.
The day started off with a bang, and a dead squirrel. We had had an un-eventful night, grounding ourselves after crashing the local convention of horny nature freaks, but sometimes my posse needs a bit of motivating, which Bessy is more than happy to provide. As the lovable echoes fade away and everyone has fire in their eyes, we pack up the camp and head in the direction of the closest Neirith outpost, ignoring the broken compass Dorian bought at a discount novelty shop in Tecamaxapan.
Navarro was sitting cross-legged in the cart, oblivious to everything around him claiming he was meditating on the wisdom of letting inanimate cards lead you astray from your path of vengeance. I’ll never figure out the half-elf. My guess it’s the human half that’s the problem.
Hamlet leveraged the fact Navarro was otherwise engaged to deliver some motivating words. These words were delivered in adequate fashion, especially after I mentioned it would be great to have someone bolster the group morale. Kevin seemed more interested in cleaning some parts of his anatomy he seems to enjoy greatly.
I ensured no un-wanted encounters scouting ahead, saddened by the horse barbecue that had been served last night. Ain’t no way I’m riding in that cart with all them hairy unwashed uncivilised renegades. The smell alone made the inhabitants of the region flee in terror.
After a few hours, the perfectly nauseating clear blue skies were populated by the cries of seagulls as we were nearing the coast. My sharper elvish eyesight picked up a figure standing in front of a landbridge to the crumbling ruins of neirith origins. A chill went down my spine, as if someone had marched across my grave. I was having none of that translucid, 6’2” human standing there, pommel held high as if to stop something from escaping the ruins. Fayd and Hamlet, less attuned to their feelings than the other members of the group, walked up to the clear, can never be confused for anything else, ghost. It turns out that this here is the ghost of a member of the everwatch knights named Brother Barath came to this outpost seeking the pledge with his companions, including Rodgri, Luther’s brother and Don camillio de fiori, Navarro’s missing master.
Brother Barath, whilst keeping constant vigilant eyes across the bridge, told Fayd and Hamlet that he’s standing here because he was slain by Talon, an Ork leader and he couldn’t recover his corpse. Barath also mentioned his comrades continued on to the valley of death, south of here but he was tied to this place until his corpse could be recovered from the clutches of this Talon.
Luther, wisely instructed by cart horse number 5, decided to leave the cart given the eerie feeling both the vengeful ghost and the more than precarious landbridge produced all of us.
As the renegades approached the ruins, we could see glimpses of movement, furtively taunting us with its enticing whispers yet never clearly seen. This sets off all kinds of alarms in my finely tuned mind. I was about to mention caution and propose a tried and tested strategy to the group. Sadly, Luther over-eager to learn of the whereabouts of his brother and the answers he’s seeking, ventured further into the ruins than the rest of us, ignoring any sense of strategy and tactics. He did inform us about the presence of a handful of big ugly orks moving stealthily in and out of view.
Dorian worded an incantation to Helm, blessed me with godly insight. There were others that Dorian’s whispers guided but they are unimportant to the success of the retrieval. I spotted a high tower, a point of strategic importance to allow a better view of the battle field. I stealthily started the ascent of this tower, intent on playing the part of the general guiding his worshipful peons to victory. Gunnar took the right flank, fayd the left one.
Balasar and Halmet choose the same column to hide behind. This “encounter” isn’t going to end well I tell you.
I reach the top of the tower, having an unparalleled view of the battle field. I have enough of this cat and ork game. My sharp eyes spot a target trying to hide itself in cover. Bessy speaks, green ork blood blossoms. The Ork corps springs into coordinated action, even I am impressed with the organisation and efficiency of these green skinned brutes. A handful of them converge on the positions held by our halfies. Blows are delivered leaving the renegades foaming at the mouth, and bleeding from the rest of their bodies. Balasar thinks so highly of my impressive grasp of strategy that he uses magic to materialise on top of MY tower, as if there weren’t MANY other candidates. Hamlet, concerned for the safety of Kevin, invokes the power of the renegades fire brigade and a massive roaring wall of fire sprung from the ground in front of Fayd, singing the stubby single little hair that had finally re-grown over his body.
A vile Ork runs up my tower but being dim witted and half blind, jumps out of the tower running after Balasar who had teleported out of the tower again. My innate sense of strategy and stealthy dexterous movements put me out of sight of the hulking brute.
Meanwhile, trying to emulate my brilliant stratagem, Luther climbs to the top of a low building, drawing the unmitigated attention of a two axe wielding Ork who swiftly proceeded to kick the Tecamaxapan reigning music champion arse off the rooftop. This new position for luther prompted him to use mighty magic and take control of his former ass-kicker, helping to tip the scales of victory slightly less in favour of the Ork corps. Let’s face it, at that time, the instinct of self preservation was toiling in my head like the sweet sound of Bessy spewing forth her love.
Our halfies were on their last enraged breaths, the ork I had intimidated off my tower had Balasar in his reticule, Dorian didn’t know which of the renegade’s bleeding arteries to staunch, Luther was concentrating hard to maintain the twisted crown of jagged iron and the madness glow in two-axes Ork, Gunnar was the victim of a pincer move from two foul smelling orks. This is where the warlock and sorcerer panicked and started lobbing conflagrations at the congregation of orks around our halfies. After a moment that made Bessy proud, there was silence over the battlefield. For a split-second, time seemed to suspend itself as an eerie silence and stillness gripped the left flank. All the orks collapsed, even our halfie fayd. The stunned pregnant silence was shattered by Luther as he brought a loud bang to cover the right flank, more Orks went still and unmoving. Dorian rushed to Fayd’s side trying to revive the crisp pork belly smelling comrade. He/she/it/they/them/??? shook it’s beard and the head followed. It seems Balasar put the greater good in front of mind and burned the life out of Fayd’s, trying to copycat my brilliant move at Zacal where I single-handedly saves all of the renebrigade at the cost of a little crack in the promise. Small price to pay for their life. Sadly, Fayd didn’t survive. I disliked the halfie less than half as I dislike the Orks that ambushed us on our righteous quest to save the world.
Whilst the shock of losing my oldest fellow renegade, one thought did spring to mind, which one is Talon and where is Brother Barath’s corpse?