The Campaign Builder's Guild

[note]On page two, you'll find a synopsis of the story so far.[/note]
Cast of Characters:
[ic=Dramatis Personae]In Order of Appearance

(http://img269.imageshack.us/img269/5340/kraashgar.jpg)  Kraashgar '" Our hero.  A young goblin warrior from the Great Below, his tribe has been slaughtered by adventurers.

(http://img188.imageshack.us/img188/4459/ysshera.jpg)  Ysshera '" Ettercap merchant.  Gave Kraashgar a lift to Ool-Nacha.

(http://img529.imageshack.us/img529/7866/rancid.jpg)  Rancid '" Troglodyte and wealthy merchant.  Runs Ool-Nacha.

(http://img406.imageshack.us/img406/7603/shub.jpg)  Shub '" Unusually friendly roper.  Bartender at the Blind Beholder in Ool-Nacha.

(http://img406.imageshack.us/img406/6994/alabastor.jpg)  Alastor '" Tiefling bounty hunter and assassin.  Kraashgar impressed him by killing a derro in a knife-fight at the Blind Beholder tavern.

(http://img156.imageshack.us/img156/9639/grognash.jpg)  Grognash '" Orc minion of Obraxus, in charge of recruitment.  Poor speller, but smart for an orc.

(http://img39.imageshack.us/img39/9534/veth.jpg)  Veth '" Barghest Ranger.  Minion of Obraxus.  Helped Kraashgar kill some magmins and escorted him to the Lair.

(http://img391.imageshack.us/img391/1540/obraxus.jpg)  Obraxus '" Ogre Mage.  Kraashgar's Boss as of Episode 11.  Rents the top five levels of a former dwarven stronghold from Illithids.

(http://img115.imageshack.us/img115/2529/cautisc.jpg)  Caustic '" Drow Wizardess.  Obraxus' second-in-command.  Specializes in acid magic.  Hard-ass.

(http://img204.imageshack.us/img204/6091/kurlok.jpg)  Kurlok '" Irritable kobold weaponmaster.  Minion of Obraxus.

(http://img379.imageshack.us/img379/2427/skelus.jpg) Skelus '" Absentminded kobold trapsmith.  Minion of Obraxus.

(http://img196.imageshack.us/img196/136/thollom.jpg)  Thollom '" Gray Slaad.  Sublets a laboratory in Obraxus' Lair.  Had Kraashgar catch an escaped grig he was experimenting on.

(http://img10.imageshack.us/img10/2171/yoggyf.jpg)  Yoggshabboth '" AKA Yoggy.  Thollom's excitable Ethereal Marauder familiar.

(http://img404.imageshack.us/img404/1649/shez.jpg)  Shez '" Imp familiar of Obraxus.

(http://img190.imageshack.us/img190/4965/morkoth.jpg)  Morkoth - Unctious troglodyte sycophant and minion of Obraxus.  Named after a slimy fish-like creature.

(http://img132.imageshack.us/img132/316/chalsceze.jpg)  Chalsezce the Mad '" Cantankerous Beholder that rents the dungeon levels below Obraxus' Lair from the Mind Flayers.  Germophobe.

(http://img81.imageshack.us/img81/5512/tul.jpg)  Tul '" Half-orc Fighter/Rogue and adventurer.  The party strong-man and skill-monkey.

(http://img404.imageshack.us/img404/5751/kenneth.jpg)  Kenneth '" Half-elf Sorcerer and adventurer.  Party mage.

(http://img210.imageshack.us/img210/1351/calh.jpg)  Cal '" Human cleric and adventurer.  Party medic.  A trifle grumpy.

(http://img148.imageshack.us/img148/9140/nhazgar.jpg)  Nhazgar - Taciturn duergar.  Minion of Chalsezce - his "servitor" or major-domo.  Gave Kraahsgar a small Ring of Protection.

(http://img41.imageshack.us/img41/6260/misterpincer.jpg)   Mr. Pincer - Umber Hulk, enslaved by the Neogi Zetch.

(http://img154.imageshack.us/img154/384/zetchi.jpg)   Zetch - Neogi raid-capatin.  Minion of Obraxus.

(http://img268.imageshack.us/img268/3866/wrask.jpg)   Wrask - Gnoll given to fits of high-pitched laughter in battle.  Minion of Obraxus.

(http://img40.imageshack.us/img40/3359/xuga.jpg)   Xug - Troglodyte adept and minion of Obraxus.

(http://img339.imageshack.us/img339/1599/brogg.jpg)  Brogg - Dwarf from the Gearhead Clan, taken captive  during a raid.

(http://img55.imageshack.us/img55/594/svaroch.jpg) Svaroch - Worg whose pack, mate, and young were slaughtered by a human hunter.  Lives in the forest outside the Lair.

(http://img12.imageshack.us/img12/4772/ulfgar.jpg) Ulfgar - A dwarven ghost that haunts level two of the Lair.

(http://img149.imageshack.us/img149/5585/skabrat.jpg) Skabrat - Cyclopean goblin rogue and gambling addict.  Minion of Obraxus.

(http://img515.imageshack.us/img515/8041/morbog.jpg) Morbog - Burly orc warrior.  Big meanie.  Minion of Obraxus.

(http://img25.imageshack.us/img25/8929/szor.jpg) Szor - Drow guard.  Chess-player and minion of Obraxus.

(http://img134.imageshack.us/img134/7281/cromn.jpg) Cromn - Ogre minion of Obraxus.  Chess-partner of Szor.

(http://img148.imageshack.us/img148/2553/lucian.jpg) Lucian - Gray elf wizard and adventurer.  One of the four who destroyed Kraashgar's tribe.

(http://img43.imageshack.us/img43/4492/violahorsenettle.jpg) Viola Horsenettle - Halfling rogue.  One of the four adventurers who destroyed Kraashgar's tribe.

(http://img522.imageshack.us/img522/8322/magnus.jpg) Magnus - Human fighter.  One of the four adventurers who destroyed Kraashgar's tribe.

(http://img193.imageshack.us/img193/7076/pyotr.jpg) Pyotr - Dwarf cleric.  One of the four adventurers who destroyed Kraashgar's tribe.

(http://img220.imageshack.us/img220/6151/klet.jpg) Klet - Hill giant bard.  Later, minion of Obraxus.

(http://img233.imageshack.us/img233/3914/borl.jpg) Borl - Hill giant druid.  Later, minion of Obraxus.

(http://img263.imageshack.us/img263/2491/mordant.jpg) Mordant - Drider necromancer.  Also Caustic's older sister.

(http://img199.imageshack.us/img199/4016/ithilax.jpg) Ithilax - Skum overseer.  Servitor of Holsuth Phagn'Neysugg.

(http://img199.imageshack.us/img199/4171/holsuthphagnneysugg.jpg) Holsuth Phagn'Neysugg - Aboleth, Second Stage Savant, Consul of the Primal Empire.  Mordant's employer.

(http://img504.imageshack.us/img504/1146/draug.jpg) Draug - Bugbear thrall enslaved by Holsuth Phagn'Neysugg.  Longs for "Union."

(http://img503.imageshack.us/img503/2101/syrgos.jpg) Syrgos - Kuo-toa fleshcrafter in the service of Holsuth Phagn'Neysugg.

(http://img507.imageshack.us/img507/4882/allmother.jpg) The All-Mother - Principal goblin deity, presiding over the cycle of life and death, fertility, energy, and earth.

(http://img204.imageshack.us/img204/589/grannygreenblood.jpg) Granny Greenblood - Sea Hag of the Unseelie Court in the employ of illithids.

(http://img338.imageshack.us/img338/2479/queenmedb.jpg) Queen Medb - Queen of the Unseelie Court in Faerie.

(http://img507.imageshack.us/img507/5631/nodd.jpg) Nodd - Unseelie satyr bard with a penchant for sleep magic.  Consort of Medb.[/ic][ic=Prologue]His tribe's village has been decimated by the invaders '" tall, alien creatures, the friends of dwarves and worse; the home-cavern lies in ruins, the shrine to the All-Mother desecrated, the treasure-stores looted, and his kin slaughtered where they stood.  The monstrous Above-landers came with flashing blades and hissing bows and terrible sorceries and slew every goblin they set eyes on.

Except for Kraashgar - this tale's hero.

Out of sheer luck an early magic missile flung from the fingertips of their magus left the goblin merely unconscious rather than a bloody, smoking smear on the cavern floor like so many of his fellows.  Our hero's last memories are of an iridescent explosion of light and pain, the smell of blood, the screams of his ilk as they died.

He awoke in the aftermath of the battle, while the invaders searched the bodies, chatting with cavalier nonchalance over the spoils of their victory, jovially debating tactics and bickering over the choicest pieces of booty while their warrior-priest whispered his blasphemous prayers and closed the few wounds they'd sustained in the brief, one-sided battle.

Kraashgar waited till their backs were turned and slunk away, into the unending darkness that outsiders call the Great Below, and which he merely calls home '" though many regions of the lightless cavern-realm are quite foreign to him.  He scuttled at first through familiar passages, foraging for food and regaining your strength, before passing into stranger places.  He passed some markings that indicated kobold territory a while back, but he doesn't know if he's still on reptile-turf; though goblins and kobolds often form loose alliances against stronger foes kobolds rarely welcome uninvited guests.

Some time has passed.  Now Kraashgar is lost, hungry, thirsty, penniless but for the few coins of bone and silver in his purse, lacking any equipment save a leather jerkin and a jagged bone knife.  He stands in a long, low cave with a slick, uneven floor.  At the edges of his Darkvision he can discern a narrow passage, winding away into dense, impenetrable blackness.[/ic][ic=On Setting and Races]Most of the campaign takes place in a vanilla Underdark, the 'Great Below,' which contrasts with the Above-land or Overworld, the surface.  Politically, the Great Below is dominated by two factions: the illithid nation-state and the Primal Empire of the aboleths, both located deep in the lower regions of the world-spanning caverns.  These two factions are at an uneasy stalemate, balanced precariously against one another, neither willing to risk full-scale war.  These tentacled puppeteers delight in shadow-games and manipulation, using other creatures like game-pieces in their subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) struggle.  Additional powers of note Below include dwarves, neogi, drow, kuo-toa and Unseelie fey.

The dwarven subraces include hill dwarves, mountain dwarves, and gray dwarves, i.e. duergar.  Hill dwarves are primitive hill-folk without technological or architectural inclinations who tend towards druidism and are much preyed on by the simplistic, oafish hill-giants; these dwarves are a dwindling group that live solely on the Overworld, and have ties to the prominent Faerie factions.  Mountain dwarves, such as the Gearhead Clan featured prominently in the campaign, are technologists and industrialists with a penchant for clockwork and steam-power.  They have discovered firearms and often modify their bodies with steam-powered augmentations, and tunnel huge strongholds out of the earth.  Finally there are the duergar '" a generally despised group that nonetheless have found a niche as the middlemen of the Great below, working as merchants and moneylenders; duergar trading outposts dot the caverns.

The neogi fill a similar niche as the duergar though they specialize in the slave-trade.  There are a few permanent neogi settlements and Umber Hulk farms, but for the most part the abberations travel in caravans of slave-takers.

The elves are likewise split into three primary subraces.  The world's high elves have entirely departed for planes unknown, leaving behind only the residual gray elves, a haughty, magic-inclined breed who secrete themselves in quasi-monastic isolation.  The drow, on the other hand, maintain a series of brutocratic, matriarchal city-states throughout the Great Below, trading with duergar, flayers, and aboleths.

Kuo-toan civilization takes the form of a series of feudal theocracies dedicated to the squid-god Dagon, scattered about underground seas.  These theocracies are closely linked to the Primal Empire, serving as glorified vassal states or puppets for the aboleths; shrines to Dagon can be found throughout the Great Below, with the religiously inclined kuo-toans commonly providing healing and other clerical services in settlements.  Kuo-toans feud with the tribal sahuagin and distrust the drow.  Like the aboleths they loathe the illithids.

The fey are divided into Seelie and Unseelie Courts, with the Seelie Court (ruled by Oberon) occupying the part of Faerie that corresponds to the Overworld  and the Unseelie Court (ruled by Oberon's banished ex-lover Medb) occupying those portions of Faerie parallel to the Great Below.  The fey are powerful but restricted, their capabilities tied to their realm.  However, Faerie itself contains many portals to the mortal world, some of which allow a traveler to pass great distances in the latter while moving only short distances in the former.

Gnomes are either forest gnomes '" closely linked to the Faerie '" or svirfneblin, a race of nomads who wander the Great Below.  Surface halflings are gypsies, while deep halflings are fungus-farmers and have a symbiotic relationship with the peace-loving myconids.

Orcs, gnolls, bugbears, and ogres tend to work as mercenaries and warriors.  Troglodytes and sahuagin run a smattering of towns and incline towards ill-defined clannishness.  Grimlocks are the hound-creatures and serfs of the illithids, bred like cattle; Skum form the backbone of the aboleth armies, while mentally dominated slaves form the work-force.

Nycter, kobolds, and goblins, the least of the Great Below's races in terms of size and power, can be found in tribal clusters, usually working as subsistence agriculturalists or as hunter-gatherers.[/ic][ooc]This is the closest I get to a 'beer & pretzels' game.  I'm mostly just improvising, rather than writing out scrupulous, hyper-extensive notes (as I usually do): I wanted to jump right into a game, without spending a week or more preparing.

The campaign is a 'worm's eye view' experiment inspired by the Commoner Campaign (http://forums.gleemax.com/showthread.php?t=763260) DMed by Hero's Backpack on the Wizard's Boards and by the comics Downer (http://paizo.com/store/comics/downer/v5748btpy7vpy) and Goblins: Life Through Their Eyes (http://goblinscomic.com/) and the computer game Dungeon Keeper (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8N5ODEGR1KQ).  There's only one player, and he begins as a 1st level Goblin Warrior with stats identical to those presented in the 3rd edition Monster Manual.  I'm going to consider allowing PC classes later in the game '" we'll see how it goes.  The world is pretty much a straightforward D&D Underdark.

Plus, I'm drawing cartoons to accompany each Episode.[/ooc]

[ic=Episode 1: Running and Hiding]Our protagonist '" Kraashgar the goblin '" begins by exploring the surrounding caves, first locating a huge chasm, bridged by a stone slab which, for now, he ignores.  He continues his exploration and eventually locates a cave with some green fungi (which he knows are edible), with some reddish-purple toadstools, which he does not recognize, growing about its base.  In an effort to scrape some of the fungus off the wall for sustenance he inadvertently perturbs the toadstools, which emit a high-pitched shriek!  Our hero recoils and ducks behind a nearby stalagmite, trying to figure out a way of obtaining nourishment without activating the shriekers.

As he waits something large and ornery, with warted green-black skin, lumbers into view '" a troll!  It sniffs the air, searching for the creature it smells.  The troll is far too strong a foe for our hero; yelping with fear Kraashgar runs full tilt into the darkness, back towards the chasm.  He crosses the narrow stone slab (nearly falling into the pit below) and scampers further into the cavern, only to come across an underground stream, which flows through the cave and then over the chasm lip.  He plunges into the frigid waters, swims feebly to the other bank, and scuttles into the black, hiding in a side-passage in the smallest niche he can find.  The troll, deterred by the goblin's brief dip, investigates the far bank but eventually lumbers back to its lair, disappointed, thrown off the scent.

After catching his breath Kraashgar returns to the stream and drinks from the icy waters; he wasn't immersed long enough to have acquired hypothermia, though this is, of course, a risk with subterranean rivers and the like.  After a few tries he manages to catch several small, blind fish with his bare hands '" the current is sufficiently sluggish.

As he guts the fish on the riverbank he is startled by the brief appearance of another creature, a hunched, orc-sized humanoid on the opposite bank '" eyeless and gray-skinned.  It hisses and shambles back into the dark when it sees him.  Kraashgar finishes his task quickly and stealthily creeps away; moments later, secreting himself in the same nook by which he evaded the troll, he hears footsteps, words in a grotesque, alien tongue (as if spoken by some non-humanoid mouth), and glimpses another of the creatures briefly, though he remains hidden, waiting for the creatures to pass; another close call.[/ic]

[ic=Episode 2: Kobolds!]Having filled his belly and drank his fill Kraashgar sets off to explore the tunnels on the far bank.  He doesn't get far before he discovers two oddities: a kobold territorial marking (a cave painting of a reptilian visage) and the remnants of a battle between kobolds and the eyeless gray-skins.  The bloodstains are dried '" the battle is old, not recent.  He retrieves an intact javelin from one of the gray-skins' corpses, also noting that, curiously, this particular creature bled badly from its well-developed, almost bat-like ears.

Further into the tunnels Kraashgar accidentally trips a wire '" a kobold trap! '" and a small, monstrous centipede, cantankerous from imprisonment, is released from a hidden cage atop him!  He scurries back the way he came, all the way back to the river, the bug in hot pursuit, then jumps into the cold, clear flow, making his way to a hitherto unexplored bank, having lost the centipede.

Continuing his exploration Kraashgar uncovers the remnants of what appears to be a small, hidden shrine of some kind, the walls well-worked, adorned with strange scriptures; bones, shattered and dusty, of some amphibian creatures are in evidence, with a grotesque, four-armed, frog-like idol dominating the shrine.  Our hero scrounges a tarnished silver icon from one of the skeletons and returns to the tunnels.

Growing fatigued and looking for a place to rest, or perhaps some sign of what passes for civilization, Kraashgar stumbles upon a crossroads.  Yellow eyes peer at him, suddenly, from out of one tunnel-mouth and a small, reptillian humanoid with a halfspear steps into the range of his Darkvision - a kobold scout!  The scout notices him and screams a yapping battle-cry!  Our hero, startled by the kobold, misses his initial javelin-throw by a hairsbreadth; in return, the kobold lands a vicious blow with its halfspear, nearly felling Kraashgar!  The two duck around each others' blows before the goblin finally stabs the kobold through the neck with his bone dagger.  The reptilian foe gurgles and dies.

Exhausted from the fight, bleeding from the wound at his shoulder, Kraashgar stumbles down the passage the kobold was investigating, deeper into the eternal dark'¦[/ic]

Pretty entertaining and easy to read. Love the drawings!

My kind of game.  I love this.  

Nice drawings. What program are you using?
Are you actually playing this game; or just imagining it?

[ooc]I am playing the game (it's not just a story... I'd DM better if it was just a story, heh).  I know, I know, sending a troll after the goblin right away was very mean, but I wanted to emphasize the "you are nothing" mentality right away, and the fact that running and hiding are sometimes going to be inevitable.

Drawings were down by hand, scanned in, and then quickly retouched and coloured with Paint and then (when my brother told me that was stupid), a program called Gimp; I wanted a flat, minimalist colour palette so Paint actually worked quite well, though maybe I'll experiment more later... I don't know a heck of a lot about computer graphics/art though, so this is just me dabbling, though I'm pretty pleased with the kobold one.

Thanks everyone for replies![/ooc]

you know ya screwed, when a kobold is a danger one on one, in a straight up fight, in melee.

looking forward to see where it goes, and mining it for ideas while I'm at it~

[ic=Episode 3: The Fungal Village]After improvising a bandage for his wound from some cloth torn from the slain kobold's clothing, Kraashgar picks the rightmost passage and ascends a long, spiraling tunnel, which after some time opens into a broad, echoing cavern dominated by an enormous grove of florescent fungi and other mushrooms '" vivid bluecaps, shriekers, and mutlicoloured toadstools of many varieties.  He hears insectile chittering sounds all around him and takes care to be as stealthy as possible as he navigates the mushroom thicket.

As he continues to press on the fungi grow in height from merely dwarf-sized mushrooms to truly enormous growths.  Our hero begins to discern that some of the mushrooms have actually been carved into architectural forms '" stairs, windows, doors '" and realizes that he's in the midst of some sort of immense fungal village.  A glimpse of a kobold patrol down a side-path confirms his suspicions '" he's strayed into the center of a kobold territory, into the very heart of the reptiles' tribal home!

Giant centipedes are kept as livestock and pets in pens of bone here, while well-tended mushroom crops fester in the verdurous, pungent gloom.  Kraashgar crosses a small stream and skirts the edge of the village cemetery, where mounds of kobold skeletons have been colonized by moulds, become part of the fungal super-organism.  He is nearly spotted by a well-armed kobold patrol, but musters his goblinoid stealthiness and dodges aside into an 'alleyway' between two gargantuan mushroom-structures until the patrol passes by.  It seems to be past curfew in the village; the only kobolds left in the streets are guards.

Creeping through the kobold settlement Kraashgar performs as thorough a reconnaissance as he can, eventually detecting two distinct exits: one large and well guarded, the other small and narrow, with only a single guard.  Opting for the latter he sneaks as close to the exit as he can, then dashes past the guard while its back is turned.  Unfortunately, in his haste, he kicks over a stray rock and alerts the kobold to his intrusion!  The creature squeals and hurls its small spear, and while the weapon connects, the attack is so weak that it merely clatters aside.  Kraashgar merely squeaks some Undercommon curses in return and runs pell-mell down the passage, even as the guard alerts some of his fellows.

Our goblinoid hero can near hear yelping Draconic voices behind him, cries of alarm and anger.  Three pairs of yellow eyes follow him as he sprints on short, crooked legs down the narrow cranny, eventually emerging into a much larger tunnel running perpendicular to the passage.  This tunnel has a natural ceiling craggy with stalactites but has hewn, roughly even walls and a smooth, flat floor of worked stone '" a road through the Great Below!

Kraashgar's pursuers are close behind him, and the goblin is nearly out of breath.  He presses on, straining his small, cramping muscles.  Two of the kobolds drop out of the race, yapping in rage; a third continues the chase.  Finally, when he can run no more, Kraashgar slows his pace, while the kobold, incensed at the filthy greenskin's transgression, closes in upon his quarry!  The creature's fervor, however, overwhelms its patience, and its clumsy throw misses by a wide mark.  In response Kraashgar hurls his own javelin (still clutched this whole time), catching the kobold high in the chest!  The reptile is hurled off its feet and lands on the road with a sickening crack.  Hastily Kraashgar retrieves his weapon and presses on down the subterranean highway; he hears  a few echoing cries behind him, but appears to have evaded the kobolds' wrath '" at least for now.[/ic][ooc]I was going for a sort of demented smurfs thing.

Also, turns out fungi are really, really hard to draw Mignola-style (went through like 4 versions till I settled, grudgingly, on the above)... though ettercaps are really easy.[/ooc]

[ic=Episode 4: Hitchhiking]Kraashgar is fatigued, wounded, and still quite lost, trudging the seemingly endless length of an Underdark highway.  Just as he was beginning to give up hope of ever seeing another living creature, a wagon crafted from humanoid bones materializes ahead of him out of the darkness, drawn by a bloated arachnid and driven by a gangly, eight-eyed creature with silvery fur and a squat, fleshy body '" an ettercap.  Too tired for caution, the goblin overtakes the peddler and introduces himself in as good Undercommon as he can.

The ettercap merchant answers back, introducing itself as Ysshera.  The two converse and Ysshera is eventually persuaded to let Kraashgar up onto her wagon, lured by the promise of items to trade.  When the goblin shows her the icon he found back in the abandoned shrine, the ettercap's eyes alight with a glint of greed.

'A Kuo-Toan holy symbol of Dagon!'  The ettercap hisses, unable to wholly disguise her interest.  'I'll tell you what '" I'll give you four coins of dwarf gold for that, plus a trip to Ool-Nacha.  That's where I'm headed; a town, run by some trog named Rancid.  I'll tell you what; I'll even throw in this spiffy hat!'  She extracts some floppy, faded bit of leather.

Kraashgar considers.  He senses something of the icon's worth; it might be worth more to the right buyer, but he's in no real position to haggle, and he needs to get his bearings.

'Sure,' he squeaks, donning the hat and pocketing the coins '" more gold than he's ever possessed in his life.

Even as they complete the transaction they come to massive rift running through the tunnel, bridged by a slender arch of carved stone in the same style as the road itself.  A trio of small, pallid, bald creatures of roughly goblin height with veiny skins and black eyes guard the bridge '" duergar, or gray dwarves, cousins of the accursed deep dwarves who live on the upper levels.  Duergar permeate the realms Below, proliferating as merchants, laborers, spies, and mercenaries.  Likely these three are trying to exact a toll.

While Ysshera haggles with two of the duergar the third demands a gold coin from Kraashgar.  He shrugs '" the cost of travel, he supposes '" and hands over a coin.  He's had enough trouble for a lifetime, and is in no mood to pick a fight.

Tolls paid, the wagon continues on into the dark.  The pair chitchat in Undercommon, then lapse into silence.  Presently they pass another pair of wagons, parked to one side of the road in a temporary camp.  Two gray-skinned, eyeless creatures, one with a club, the other with a spear, stand guard.  Inside, perhaps half a dozen kobolds are visible.

'Grimlocks,' Ysshera mutters.  'Flayer slaves.  Filthy creatures.  Pay them no attention.'

The wagons rumble by; the grimlocks turn and 'stare,' but do nothing.  Kraashgar makes an obscene gesture, secure in the creatures' blindness.

After some time the highway stops at a huge archway, carved with what might be drow script.  Beyond is some sort of massive, vaguely cylindrical room that has been dug out of the living rock.  Scrawled on the wall in Undercommon are the words 'Mazinkor's Shaft.'  Underneath this someone has etched the words 'oo-er!' and some crude, pornographic graffiti.

Beyond the arched doorway the road continues, but now winds up around the edges of the enormous shaft, like a colossal staircase.  The wagon rumbles up the coiled ramp, Kraashgar in tow, towards the settlement of Ool-Nacha.[/ic]

HAHA! that rude gesture made my day.

[ooc]Much more Goblin! on the way very soon (just have to draw the illustrations).  In the meantime, here's another illustration, this time done by the player, of the kobold scout he killed in Episode 2, in a very similar style as the one I've been using:[spoiler] (http://img22.imageshack.us/img22/7968/kobo.jpg)[/spoiler] [/ooc]

[ic=Episode 5: The Shrine of Dagon]Ysshera's wagon rumbles down Membrane Street, The entrance to Ool-Nacha appears to be a large, high-ceilinged tunnel with hewn stone walls.  Carved into one are the words 'Membrane Street,' in Undercommon, as well as in some blocky runes that look Dwarven, some cursive, flowing letters that might be Drow, and some snarled-looking glyphs that Kraashgar recognizes as Draconic, tongue of kobolds, troglodytes, and dragons, amongst others (of course, he cannot actually read these letters).  Evidently a cosmopolitan settlement.  There's also plenty of graffiti, most of it unintelligible or merely obscene, such as a graphic depiction of a kobold or troglodyte and a mind flayer fornicating.

'Ool-Nacha's a trade-town,' Ysshera explains.  'Used to be a duerger outpost during the Mithral Wars.  Not huge, but all manner of things have moved in, including a band of trogs led by a guy named Rancid.  Nasty piece of work, if rumor's believed, but he keeps the town in working order."

Kraahsgar stays on the wagon and they ride into the central bazaar of Ool-Nacha, a rough chamber of relatively even ground crowded with merchants of every race hawking their wares.  Duergar and troglodytes are the most common, with a smattering of drow, goblins, kuo-toans, and orcs; more goblins and kobolds are evident mostly as slaves used to fetch and carry.  The goods are multifarious: on one corner a frilled, reptilian trog hawks fresh fish, next to a duergar and his two kobold slaves, who sell fungi from a cart that advertises 'Mushrooms for Food & Poison.'  There's also a kuo-toa trinket peddler, another duergar who sells blades of various descriptions, a drow selling deep-fried spiders (a dark elf delicacy), and a trog armorer selling hides, leathers, and even a few pieces of what looks like dwarfish mail, in addition to a general hubbub of merchants selling things like clothing, ore, bones, and tools.  Packbeasts are evident here as well, everything from huge, albino lizards to giant beetles and centipedes to bound earth elementals.

'This here's the main bazaar,' Ysshera says.  'Slave market's down Oozetongue Way.'  She parks her wagon, pays a local trog a bone coin to watch it for her, and tells Kraashgar she's heading to the temple of Dagon to try and pawn that holy symbol he sold her.  Our hero follows the ettercap down Gris-Gris Street, a narrow, winding alley dedicated almost exclusively to shrines of various sorts, carved into the walls, some of them mere niches, the others small clusters of rooms.  At the end of the street is a larger temple guarded by a pair of hydra statues.  Other idols include a spider, many-armed horror, a thing like a reptilian whale, a pair of intertwined snake-like things, and a squat, obese frog-like deity.  Kraashgar even notices a tiny statuette set in a miniscule, unattended niche that looks a bit like the All-Mother Herself.

Priests and worshippers throng the streets: amphibious kuo-toans, kobolds and trogs (who seem to congregate about the larger temple), duergar in grayish cowls, and she-drow in filmy black robes like lace.  He follows Ysshera into the shrine of Dagon, where which features a central pool and an altar to the four-armed frog deity.  Three kuo-toans tend the shrine, each carrying an ornate pincer-like staff.  While Ysshera haggles with the high priest Kraashgar approaches one of the other priests, who seems to take him for a slave.  After waiting politely for a moment he introduces himself in Undercommon and asks if his wounds could be tended to here.

'A wound, you say?'  The kuo-toan croaks.  'Very well; I can heal it for ten gold pieces.'

'I don't have that much, sorry.'  Kraashgar shrugs and turns to go, perhaps to find some way of making a few gold pieces.

'Wait, not so fast '" perhaps we can work out some sort deal.  Are you skilled at all with that thing?'  The kuo-toa gestures to the javelin Kraashgar carries.

'I can handle myself okay, I guess.'

'Well, this won't require any great warrior.  We've got something of a stirge infestation in our sublevel fane.  We don't use it much except for storage, but one of our new recruits got drained dry by the pesky little things, and we get swarmed every time we head down there.  I'll heal you now, and in exchange, you can deal with our stirge problem.  Deal?'

Kraashgar ponders.  On the one hand, this sounds sort of dangerous.  On the other, he could really use the healing, and if the stirges can't really injure him'¦

'Deal,' he says, finally.'

'Good.'  The kuo-toa mutters a swift prayer to Dagon and Kraashgar's wound from the kobold halfspear closes with a prickling of divine magick.  'Now remember, don't let those buggers attach to you.  They can't do any proper damage, but they'll suck your blood right out of you.  You'll recover from a bit of blood-loss pretty quickly, but too much and you're done for.'  The kuo-toa leads him to an arched doorway near the rear of the shrine and pushes him towards the staircase, nearly tripping him.  'I don't know how many of them are down there, but make sure you get them all,' the priest calls down as Kraashgar descends into the fane'¦[/ic]

not a very smart goblin, is he?

>>'Well, this won't require any great warrior. We've got something of a stirge infestation in our sublevel fane. We don't use it much except for storage, but one of our new recruits got drained dry by the pesky little things, and we get swarmed every time we head down there. I'll heal you now, and in exchange, you can deal with our stirge problem. Deal?'

Kraashgar ponders. On the one hand, this sounds sort of dangerous. On the other, he could really use the healing, and if the stirges can't really hurt him'¦


I think the frogfolk painting is very well done! :)

[ooc]Well, stirges can't deal damage; only ability damage.  Kraashgar is way better off relying on his Con (11) than his hp.  Ironically, he stands a ridiculously better chance against stirges (1d4 Con maximum damage before flying off, 1d3-4 damage) than against, say, orcs (1d12+3 damage).  He managed to defeat 6 stirges, tempoarily losing only 7 points of Con.  No way he could have taken 6 orcs.  The XP from these stirges, plus the kobolds, also allowed him to level up, and even with a -3 Con penalty (temporaily) to his HD he had 6 hp leaving the shrine, as opposed to his 1 hp upon entering.  All in all, not the stupidest move, really.

I changed "hurt" to "injure," in the write-up, though, to try and better reflect what was going through the player's head.

Glad you liked the kuo-toa![/ooc]

[ic=Episode 6: Exterminate!]Dust and cobwebs coat the walls of the chamber at the foot of the stairwell, but beneath the grime Kraashgar can see elaborate frescoes depicting monstrous amphibian forces and kuo-toan figures marching through enormous cavern structures, or warring with fish-like creatures.  There are two doorways here, to the left and right; he chooses the rightmost, following a passage that divides, turns right again and slinks quietly into a large, hexagonal chamber with a stairway leading down into murky, greenish water.  The white, bloodless corpse of a kuo-toa lies on the floor at the doorway, body punctured in several places.  Kraashgar looks up and spots the three stirges roosting on the ceiling like bats.

He aims a shot with his javelin but fumbles it badly, so that his weapon clatters off the wall and into the water.  The stirges, awakened by the clamor, begin to flutter about the room.  One alights on the goblin and penetrates his flesh with its disgusting proboscis!  Alarmed, Kraashgar attempts to swat the creature away, then runs pell-mell into the water!  The stirge remains attached, but the other two circle overhead, unwilling to dive beneath the water.

Now submerged, Kraashgar attempts to remove the stirge, stabbing at it with his bone dagger.  He flails and nicks the stirge with his blade, but the insectile creature remains attached, sucking a bellyfull of blood before detaching and fluttering off in a flurry of water and wings.  Kraashgar breaks the surface of the water and seizes his javelin again, hurling it at the now-bloated creature; this time his shot strikes home, skewering the stirge against the far wall in a shower of hot blood.  The other two stirges whine like bats and go into a frenzy, fluttering about their sibling's corpse.  Kraashgar approaches with his blade and with a well-aimed chop manages to kill another stirge.  The third, alarmed, flutters round and attaches itself, sucking more blood from our hero before it too is claimed by his blade!

Anemic and dazed, Kraashgar uses the kuo-toa's pincer staff to pry his javelin from the wall and then returns to the passage, turning left this time.  He comes to a storage chamber containing more pincer-staffs in iron brackets, some ceramic jugs, and a large stone chest.  Another stirge lurks on the ceiling.  Taking care to be quiet Kraashgar puts down his javelin and carefully removes a pincer-staff, trying to position it around the stirge.  Unfortunately the unwieldy weapon is too heavy for him and clanks against the ceiling, disturbing the stirge!  It tries to attach to Kraashgar but is deterred by his leather armor, and the goblin warrior manages to pinch the little horror with the staff.  It struggles to free itself but our hero squeezes the mechanical trigger-mechanism and the stirge pops like a blood blister.

Only one passage remains.  Kraashgar retrieves his javelin but drags the pincer-staff with him as well, back towards the remaining doorway; beyond is a small round chamber whose ceiling drips and whose wall frescoes are obscured by thick green mould.  There's a central dais that looks to hold some kind of reliquary and a heavy stone door on the far wall set with glyphs; two final stirges are evident as well, awakened by Kraashgar's extermination attempts.  They swoop down and one attaches and begins to drain our hero!  Woozily Kraashgar drops his javelin and brings the pincer-staff to bear on the other stirge; again the kuo-toan weapon proves effective.  Then he rips the remaining stirge from his shoulder bare-handed and batters the little thing to death against the flagstone floor.

Badly fatigued and pale with blood-loss, Kraahsgar retrieves his javelin and stumbles back up the stairs to the shrine of Dagon.  The kuo-toan priest makes a tsk sound and takes the blood-spattered pincer-staff before inspecting the sub-level fane.  Satisfied with Kraashgar's job he lets the goblin go.  Our hero wanders back onto Gris-Gris Street, offers one of the fish-heads to the All-Mother (burning the sacrifice in a small brazier '" the fumes are carried up to ventilation chimneys in the roof), and then sets off back to the market.  Despite his debilitated state he feels newly emboldened, filled with a sense of accomplishment.[/ic][ooc]At the end of this small adventure Kraashgar leveled up, becoming a Level 2 Goblin Warrior.  He got lucky and rolled 8 for his extra Hit Die, and put skill ranks in Climb and Jump.[/ooc]

[ic=Episode 7: The Fighting Pits]Kraashgar continues his exploration of Ool-Nacha, heading back to the bazaar.  He admires some of the wares (currently beyond his means) and then inspects the surrounding tunnels, Yellowtbone Alley and Oozetongue Way.  Off Oozetongue Way he locates the local fighting pits, hewn into the floor and surrounded by a crowd of spectators and hawkers selling food and drink.

In the center, an orc wielding two axes faces a sinuous creature with a humanoid face and a serpentine, undulating body.  The orc hacks madly at the snake-like creature but the thing darts back, hissing, before pouncing forward and clamping its jaws round the orc's neck.  It withdraws before the orc gladiator can counterattack.  The warrior yells with pain and fury before his face goes black and he falls over, twitching.

'Victory isth mine!'  The thing cries, as money changes hands and the pits echo with groans and cheers.

Kraashgar notices one individual cheering particularly loudly '" a large, obese troglodyte who sits on a gilded palanquin held up by kobold slaves, with a pair of trog warriors and a scarred, halberd-wielding orc as bodyguards and some scantily clad trog courtesans feeding him giblets of raw, still-quivering meat.

He considers for a moment.  He is clearly no match for the creatures in the ring, but he's got three gold pieces still burning a hole in his pocket, so why not bet on a match or two?  He watches a few more fights (the dark naga devours some duergar crossbowmen and a grick obliterates some zombies) and then begins to place some bets.

Turns out that Kraashgar has a good eye for picking the right combatant.  He bets on a  flurry of matches '" on a gnoll that takes down a grimlock and a krenshar, a kuo-toa that slays two svirfneblin, on an orc that gets messily devoured by an unfettered ghoul.  Up a few coins he bets on the ghoul he'd just lost to and wins more gold as it slays first a duergar sorcerer, then a drow archer that's even immune to its paralyzing attack!  He bets on a final match between a summoned earth elemental and a minotaur and wins when the gnarled, stony spirit crushes the horned humanoid into the arena floor.

Up an astounding eleven gold coins and realizing that he's both hungry and desperately thirsty, Kraashgar consumes what's left of his food and heads back towards Membrane Street, where he spotted a bar earlier.[/ic][ooc]I let the player control the combatant he bet on and roll for it in the fight, as a nice change of pace - I think it was refreshing to control a character with more than 8 hit points, though Kraashgar will be up to 12 once his Con damage heals.[/ooc]

[ic=Episode 8: Brawl in the Blind Beholder]As Kraashgar pushes through the bazaar towards Membrane Street, the crowd parts '" but not for him.  A massive glass tank or aquarium has entered the market, drawn by a pair of muscular, slimy-skinned humanoids with fish-like heads and webbed digits.  Inside the tank a dark shape is suspending in murky, greenish water.  As the tank and its haulers draw closer our hero sees the thing within: a giant fish-like creature with rubbery skin, a lamprey-like maw, and three glossy black eyes.  One of them swivels towards him and regards our hero momentarily; he feels an enormous, powerful weight on his mind, like something pressing against the boundaries of his brain, not painful but incredibly strong, even overwhelming.  Then the fish-thing looks away and hisses something in a hideous, watery language to the tank-bearers, who pull it onwards towards Oozetongue Way.

Unnerved by the encounter Kraashgar pushes his way through the crowd and back to Membrane Street, where he locates the bar he saw earlier: an unsavory-looking establishment called The Blind Beholder.  There's also a sign that reads 'Help Wanted: Servers, Dancers' in Undercommon.  The minotaur bouncer confiscates his javelin but lets him keep his knife.

Inside are a set of chambers smelling of food and drink.  The Blind Beholder isn't too crowded: a couple of duergar peer at Kraashgar suspiciously from a corner, a horned humanoid male with glowing red eyes and black, drow-made armor drinks what looks like a glass of blood, and a slimy koa-toa playing cards with a hefty orc.  There's a bigger crowd at the bar, as various patrons clamor for the bartender's attention: a gnarly-fleshed roper who can serve six drinks at once with its flickering tendrils, while chatting with the patrons in its unnerving voice, cyclopean eye swiveling to and fro.  There are also four troglodytes who lounge in a side room, chatting in Draconic and laughing their bizarre, hissing laughs.

Feeling proud of himself and eager to spend some of his newly acquired fortune Kraashgar boldly struts up to the bar and seats himself on one of the stone stools.

'Hey there, small fry,' the roper says gruffly, in a voice like a stone screaming.  'What can I get you?  Fungus beer?  Lizard-bile?  How bout a Bloody Bugbear?'  Some of the other patrons chuckle at this.

'Give me your strongest drink,' Kraahsgar proclaims brashly.  The roper chortles at this and in a flurry of tendrils has produced a potent-looking cocktail of some variety that smokes a little and smells acridly of alcohol.

'Five silver pieces,' it demands, which Kraashgar pays.  He downs the drink as quickly as possible and immediately regrets this decision.  He's lost a lot of blood, and whatever was in the drink makes him feel instantly nauseous.  His vision blurs, the room reels, and he has to grip the bar to keep upright.  A derro seated at the next stool laughs.

'Puny greenskin can't hold his liquor!'

'I can (hic) hold it better'n you!'  Kraashgar burps.  'Look, you've got puke on your '" oh, wait, that's just your face.'
 
'Fuck you, gobbo scum!'  The derro draws a shortsword and lunges towards Kraashgar, screaming in Dwarven!

Our hero reacts surprisingly quickly, drawing his own blade and dodging away from the derro's blow.  A circle forms round the two combatants, and the roper only watches, polishing a mug absently.

The two circle each other.  Kraashgar makes a sudden thrust and stabs the derro in the chest, but the half-dwarf is tough and merely snarls, himself too drunk to feel the pain.  They trade blows but fail to damage one another, till the derro nicks the goblin above the eye, drawing blood.  Kraashgar staggers backwards and the derro is upon him, slashing him across the chest!  Though the wounds aren't deep, our hero has already lost a lot of blood to the stirges and is not in prime fighting shape.  Fortunately, the derro underestimates a lunge and slips on a puddle of spilt beer, falling prone.  Seizing the opportunity Kraashgar jumps upon him and slits his throat in a single, surprisingly deft motion.  The derro makes a wet choking sound and falls dead!

Some of the crowd cheer; others boo.  Kraashgar is violently ill, spattering the derro corpse, adding insult to injury.  He feels a lot better, though.  The roper seems more upset about the vomit than the dead derro on his floor and fixes our hero with its glowering red eye while signalling for the bouncer to dispose of the derro.  Kraashgar pulls out a full gold piece and lays it on the counter.

'For the mess,' he nods, feeling larger-than-life, adrenaline flowing through his small, battered body.  'I'll have another (hic) drink.'

'You're getting a fungus beer, this time,' the roper growls.  'And nurse that thing, okay?'

'This one's on me,' says an unexpected voice: the horned humanoid in black armor Kraashgar noticed earlier.  He raises his goblet of blood and smiles.

'Thanks,' says Kraashgar.  'Appreciate it.'

'I made five gold on that little scuffle.  You've got balls, for a goblin.'  The tiefling sips and smiles again.  'I'm Alastor, by the way.  Say, you looking for work?  I know an Ogre Mage who could use a guy like you.'

'Sure.'

'Have a look at the wall over there,' the tiefling jerks a taloned thumb towars the tavern wall, plastered with wanted posters, advertisements, and job offers.  'Pretty decent pay, boss isn't too bad a guy, for an ogre.'

Sipping his greenish beer Kraashgar stumbles over to the far wall and inspects the various posters.  While some exotic dancers (a duergar as hairless as the rest of her race and a lewdly clad half-drow) mount a dais he reads:

[spoiler]WANTED: Rogue choker preying on caravans on the 13th; bring the head to town hall for 20 gold crown reward.

THINK YOU'RE TOUGH?  Try your luck at the Ool-Nacha Fighting Pits, off Oozetongue Way.  All fights to the death, automatic prize of five gold pieces!

The Shrine of Ghol-Ilisich is looking for exterminators capable of dealing with an ochre jelly that's taken up residence in our lower sanctum.  Price to be negotiated.

GOOD WITH YOUR HANDS?  DREAMING OF A BETTER CAREER?  THE TRAPSMITH'S GUILD is looking for recruits!  Gain valuable experience and a first rate education in trap design and construction.  Speak to your local representative today for more information!

LOST: Small ring of invisibility, ruddy gold, no inset, runes on band, slight illusion aura.  Sentimental value.  If found please ask at the Welcome Gloom Inn, Membrane Street, Ool-Nacha.  15000 gold piece reward, no questions asked.

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS DISPLACER BEAST? (Drawing) Glossy purple fur, black spots, friendly disposition, house-trained.  Answers to Mr. Sixlegs.  Return to 1644 Squideye Row, Yolgur, the 14th.

WANTED: Escaped slave.  Surface gnome, XIV brand on left arm, possibly minor sorcerer.  Return to 14 Oozetongue Way, Ool-Nacha.  Alive, 15 gold pieces.  No reward if killed.

LOOKING FOR SKILLED INFILRATOR to retrieve the corpse of drow sorcerer TYRZACH THE UTTERER from the krenshar nest in the necropolis of MORGASH on the 11th.  Return to the Shrine of the Spider Goddess on Gris-Gris Street, Ool-Nacha for 200 gold pieces; no reward if the body is mutilated and/or nibbled.[/spoiler]

And finally:


[spoiler]MINIONS WANTED: Ogre Mage seeks reliable servants and/or guards.  Pays 2 gold pieces a week, plus full room and board.  Opportunities for upward mobility.  Experience desirable but not required.  No dwarves or undead.  Apply with Grognash the Orc in the Bazaar.[/spoiler]

He squints at this last one.  Sounds like a good gig...[/ic]

[ic=Episode 9: The Interview]Kraashgar is exhausted, so he checks into the Welcome Gloom Inn across the street for a couple of silver pieces and has a welcome sleep.  When he wakes up he feels refreshed and finds that some of his wounds are healing but also discovers that the last morsels of fish are rotting in his satchel, so he seeks out the otyugh garbage disposal off Yellowtongue Alley and gets rid of the putrescent fish-bits.  He has breakfast at The Blind Beholder (fried centipedes and a watery stew of skinned bat) and has a fungus ale.  Some trogs - thugs of Rancid's - storm into the bar just as Kraashgar is finishing his meal, still sipping his ale.  They begin talking loudly in Draconic.  One of them catches the goblin's eye and squints at him.

'What you lookin' at, greenskin.'

'What?'  Kraashgar pretends to have been staring into space.

'I think you should bugger off.'

'I'm not done my beer.'  The roper bartender, polishing a glass, rolls its eye and mutters 'not again' under its breath.

The trog slaps Kraashgar's tankard and the ale slops on the ground.

'I said leave.'

Kraashgar considers the trogs but realized he's outmatched.  Just because he could take a measly, drunken derro in a knife-fight doesn't mean he's king of the underworld.  He slinks off to the bazaar and locates the orc Grognash, a bored looking creature who sits at a stall that says 'Minions Wanted.'

'I'm here about the job?'  Kraashgar says tentatively.

'Oh, an applicant!'  The orc suddenly perks up.  'Fantastic.  Boss's really low on minions right now, haven't had any new recruits in days.'  He looks the goblin up and down.  'Alright, I have to ask you a few questions first, okay?'  Grognash fishes in his vest pocket and extracts a small pair of reading glasses.

'Alright, first thing's first.  Name?'

'Kraashgar.'

'That one '˜A', or two?'

'Two.'

'Race?'

'Goblin.'

'Age?'

'Seventeen.'

'Profession?'

'Warrior.'

'Any skills?'

'I can sneak around pretty well.  And kill stuff.'

'Any special abilities?'

'Uh, like what?'

'Like, can you cast ghost sound at will, or are you half-demon or something?'

'No, nothing like that.'

'Can you cast spells?'

'Nope.'

'Any known diseases?'

'Not that I'm aware of.'

'Any phobias?'

'I guess I'm scared of dying.'

'Okay, death'¦ Estimation of creatures killed?'

'About eight, I think?'

'Languages spoken?'

'Undercommon, Goblin.'

'Any religion?'

'I worship the All-Mother.'

'All-Mother, gotcha.  Okay, that gets the basic stuff out of the way.  Now a few trickier questions.  There're no wrong answers, we just want to see if you're a good fit for our organization, alright?'

'Sure.'

'What kind of position do you see yourself taking in a dungeon environment?'

'I dunno, working as a guard I guess.'

'Could you handle yourself on a raid?'

'I think so.'

'Do you have any issues working alongside certain races or creature types?'

'Not that I can think of.'

'Good.  We prize tolerance at the Lair.  If you had a complaint about conditions, or were uncomfortable with a job you were assigned, what would you do?'

'Probably talk to my immediate superior about them.'

'Would you be comfortable working on the Overworld at any time?'

'If I had to, but preferably not a lot'¦ I hear all sorts of crazy stuff goes on up there.  Supposed to be dangerous.'

'Okay, I'll put down '˜prefers subterranean tasks.'  Have any references for us?'

'Uh, Alastor the tiefling told me I'd be a good fit here'¦'

'Oh, I know Alastor.  Good guy, did some freelance work for us for awhile.  One more question.'  He pauses.  'Have you ever dealt with adventurers before?'

'Mhm.'

'Care to elaborate?'

'Sure.  They brutally massacred my family and friends, and looted everything.  I was struck unconscious, woke up, and got away before they could kill me too.'

'Massacre, massacre '" does that have two '˜S's?  I always forget.  Whatever.  Alright, now that that's out of the way I need to administer a quick practice test.  Pretty standard fighting exam, just makes sure you can outfight a zombie of equivalent size, cuz otherwise it'd be smarter and frankly more cost-effective in the long run just to kill you now and animate your corpse.'  He pulls back a scrap of hide that had previously obscured a cage.  Inside a small, hunched figure that looks like it might once have been a gnome peers at you with glowing red eyes and moans.  'Svirfneblin zombie,' Grognash explains.  'Okay, you ready?'

Kraashgar tenses and readies his javelin.

'Okay, ready.'

The zombie is released and shambles towards the goblin, gnashing its half-rotten teeth.  A couple of passersby glance over at the thing but pay it little attention.  Business as usual Below'¦

Kraashgar hurls his javelin but only grazes the zombie.  He draws his knife even as the creature swipes at him with jagged nails, scratching him badly.  They tousle, trading blows, Kraashgar lopping off one of the zombie's hands, while the undead gnome fastens its teeth on his leg and gnaws at him.  In tremendous pain Kraashgar kicks the zombie off him and tumbles to one side, snatching up his javelin.  He prods the zombie and skewers it through the belly, but the gnome refuses to die.  It grabs hold of the javelin and pulls itself forward, clawing the air with its remaining hand and striking our hero again!  Gritting his teeth Kraashgar wrenches his javelin free and plunges it again into the zombie's putrid flesh, this time straight into the creature's brains!  The gnome collapses into a heap, the arcane energy that had animated it dissipating.

'Whew!  That was a close one.  Can't say these are the highest scores I've ever seen, but everything else looks okay'¦ well, I'm going to pass you on to my fellow recruitment officer, fellow called Veth.  He's going to take you up to the Lair.  You'll find him at the Temple of Zog-Yahn the Ur-Dragon right now, picking up some supplies.  You can't miss him, the short purple guy.  Barghest.  Give him this paperwork '" ' he hands you a vellum scroll ' '" and he'll take you back to the Lair.  I think you're the only new recruit right now, so it's just going to be you and him.'  He extends a massive green hand.  'Good to have you on the team.'[/ic]

Ah, undead gnome. Cute.
-
I am surprised that the recruiting is so organized and that the orc is so well-spoken. I thought they had a penalty to intelligence?

[ooc]Your average orc has 9 intelligence, so they'er not slobbering morons; Grognash was probably selected as recruiter for a slightly above average intelligence (perhaps 11 or 12).  What I really wanted was to add a slightly ironic tinge to the whole process, so that the interview felt a lot like a modern job interview, just about dungeon guarding instead of retail or whatever.  Swap a few words around from the above and you'd practcially have my first job interview at Staples...

That zombie though, oh boy... only CR 1/4, but he nearly slaughtered the PC.  Admittedly the player still had plenty of Con damage from the stirges, but still, he nearly got taken apart after a few unlucky rolls on his part and some lucky ones by the zombie.  that d12 undead hit die means a lot at low levels.[/ooc]

[ic=Episode 10: The Commute]Kraashgar takes the paperwork from Grognash and heads to Gris-Gris Street to the large troglodyte temple there.  He notices a large albino pack-lizard tethered outside.  Inside the temple, trog priests administer to various reptilian idols while kobolds and other reptilian folk lie in prostrate prayer or otherwise abase themselves.  Kraashgar spot Veth almost immediately: a creature like an oversized goblin, nearly orc height, with reddish-blue skin and a shaggy mane of hair.  He heads up to Veth ands introduces himself, handing the barghest his papers.

'Oh, a new recruit.  Alright, everything seems to be in order'¦ let me just finish up here and we'll get going.  I've been going stir crazy in this town'¦ I suppose Grognash told you about the raid last week?'
'He didn't mention it, actually.'

'No?  Well, the Lair got hit by some Gearhead Clan dwarves.  Technically the dungeon used to belong to them, like a century ago or something, and they keep bothering us about relics and their proud dwarven heritage and mining rights and blah blah blah.  I don't know why they're bugging us about it, it's the flayers took the damn place over, we just rent the top five levels.  Anyway, long story short, we lost about twenty guys, and the Boss is way too cheap to get them raised, so we're pretty desperate for recruits.  Now just sit tight, I'll just be a minute.'

The barghest appears to be purchasing healing supplies from the clerics here.  He notices that Kraashgar is badly wounded and offers him a potion '" 'We get a special discount for bulk orders, they crank this stuff out like you wouldn't believe' '" and the two head outside.

After a couple of tries Kraashgar manages to mount the pack-lizard.  This just isn't my day he thinks to himself.

'What did you say your name was?

'Kraashgar.'

Okay, Kraashgar, let's get out of this pisshole'¦ smells like trogs.'  The barghest wrinkles his nose in distaste and lashes the pack-lizard.  The lizard bears them out of Ool-Nacha and down one of the old roads, back to Mazinkor's Shaft.  They begin their climb up the shaft's sloping ramp, heading towards some higher level.

Time passes, indeterminate, as they make a slow, crawling ascent.  The lizard and Veth are untiring.  The barghest advises Kraashgar to get some sleep.

He awakes at the mouth of a cave, from which an orange light emanates vaguely.  Veth hands the goblin a small package that glows green from within and a flask of liquid.

'Here, it'll be awhile till we eat again.'

After a brief meal of fungi, they press on into the caves.

'Now careful, here,' Veth warns.  'These tunnels are infested with magmins, and they can be a real pain.  Plus there's bloody lava all over, so watch your step.' They dismount - the ceiling is too low to ride properly.

They cross a small stream of magma '" Veth and the lizard making the jump easily, Kraashgar barely scrambling up the far bank, after timing a jump on a fragment of floating rock '" before they encounter the magmins, elemental creatures like oversized infants, with too-large heads and pudgy limbs, flesh of black earth fissured with veins of magma.  Steam issues of their little bodies, and they snap something in a language that sounds like crackling flames.

'Damn, I'd hoped to avoid this crap,' Veth curses.  As the magmins scuttle towards them he snarls a quickened spell or two, surrounding them both with an aura of eldritch light that flares, then dissipates.  'There, we'll resist their fire attacks now,' he explains, while readying his shortbow.  He looses a shaft at the nearest magmin, but the arrowhead turns to molten slag as it strikes, and the shaft bursts into flames.  'Yeah, they do that sometimes.  Okay, spot of training.  Help me kill these things, okay?'

He hands the shortbow to Kraashgar and howls.  His skin ripples with subcutaneous motion and his hair bristles.  Suddenly a worg stands in pace of the purplish goblin-creature that had been there before.

The fight is swift, but dangerous: Kraashgar shooting arrows at the magmins while Veth savages them with his teeth, with a magma stream bubbling beside the path.  They kill one of the creatures and wound the others, which slink back into the magma, but Kraashgar's javelin is incinerated in the process.

'Don't worry, we'll arm you properly once we get to the Lair,' Veth assures our hero, after polymorphing back into his original form.  'Come on, we're almost to the lift.'[/ic] [ooc]Because of Veth's help these CR 3 magmins were much easier than a CR 1/4 small zombie; I gave the barghest some ranger levels which gives him access to Resist Elements, plus the magmins, as stated in the MM, tend to flee when wounded, whereas the zombie continuously hammers away.  The weapon combustion was the biggest problem, but even then weapons get through about half the time, and magmin AC is quite poor (14).[/ooc]

[ic=Episode 11: Meet the Boss]Kraashgar and Veth the barghest approach what looks like a precipice in the darkness.  The magma stream flows across the lip of this vast rift, out into the emptiness beyond.  Perched on the very edge of the precipice is a small iron gondola or lift, strung up to cables overhead that snake away between stalactites along the ceiling.  A pair of grimlocks guards the lift, accompanied by a chained, slavering creature with a bird-like visage and scything blades for hands.

Veth presents some sort of document to the grimlocks.  They run their fingers over the Braille on the scroll and hiss something in a language you don't understand.

'Alright, we're cleared,' Veth says.  'Let's go.'  He motions that Kraashgar follow him onto the lift.

One of the grimlocks throws a lever and the lift clanks into sudden motion, swaying back and forth.  Below, bright orange light emanates from the floor of the rift: a huge lake of molten rock, glowing from out of the darkness, fed by the trickle over the precipice and others like it.  Soon the lift swings past the lake and through a small tunnel.  It moves quite fast, cables whining and sparking as they whiz through the caverns.  The tunnel opens, and Kraashgar gazes upon another huge cave that glistens here and there with silvery veins.  They are far above the cavern floor, which is well beyond the limits of his Darkvision.

'We're entering the old mines of the Gearhead Clan,' Veth explains.  'There's iron down here, and copper, and Mithril as well.'  He points to something in the darkness.  'See that?'  Kraashgar peers down into the gloom and notes a sinuous, coiled shape rear up from the darkness before disappearing.

'Purple worms.  The flayers that run the mines these days have had no end of problems with those things.  Lost dozens of slaves, machines get smashed'¦' He trails off as they clank to a halt on a narrow balcony, at the far wall of the cavern; a square opening hewn in the cliff is the only entrance.

'How did they string those cables up through the cavern?'  Kraashgar asks.

'Flight spells and enchanted discs, I think,' Veth says.  He leads the goblin through the doorway and into a network of mine-tunnel hewn out of the rock, some of them glistening with glimmers of ore.  Kraashgar spot several gray-skinned grimlocks and a few other humanoids laboring down the tunnels, all of them bound with glyph-etched slave collars.  Once he thinks he catches a of glimpse a mind flayer, levitating a few inches from the ground and directing some slaves towards a nearby tunnel with silent telepathy, while a hound-like creature with a face like a massive brain pads about its hovering feet.

'Illithids run the Mithral Mines,' Veth says.  'Drove the dwarves out over a century ago.  They still want to reclaim them, but they rarely get very far before someone stops them.  Course, our real problem these days is usually surface adventurers.  Armed to the teeth, each one of them powerful as a small army.  Nearly cleaned out the top level last time'¦'

They approach a carven doorway hewn into the rock and guarded by yet more grimlocks, and pass through into a large cylindrical shaft that rises up into darkness.  Chains are anchored to the floor and run up the walls into the black, and there's some kind of winch or lever system in the floor to one side.  Veth struts up to the lever and pulls it partially forwards.  There's a sudden grind of gears and the floor begins to quake.  The walls begin to move '" they are ascending the shaft via a mechanical elevator, the chains clanking and clattering, hidden cogs and pulleys working to push you upwards.  At first the walls are of hewn black basalt, then a duller brown rock.  They pass what look like doors as you ascend.

'Obraxus '" your new boss '" runs the top five levels,' Veth tells the new recruit.  'Bottom level mines are flayer territory, and floors six through eight are owned by a Beholder called Chalsezce the Mad.  He can be a difficult neighbor to live with, but mostly we stay out of each other's way.'

The walls have turned to dressed grayish stone.  The elevator grinds to a halt beneath a domed ceiling.

'This is level five, counting from the top level,' Veth explains.  'Alright, time to meet the boss.'  He fits a huge key in the lock to the double doors and turns.  There's a hiss of gears and the doors grind open, revealing a huge, pillared hall beyond.  Kraashgar and his barghest guide enter the hall.  Kraashgar notes that the massive pillars are carved in the semblance of gargantuan dwarven warriors.  All have been badly defaced and scrawled with graffiti, and some have even collapsed.  Some torches gutter here and there, illuminating arched doorways on every wall.

Dwarfed by the enormity of the main hall are a pair of guards, a bulky orc in leather armor and a hunched, hulking ogre with a rust-spotted greataxe.

'Hey, Veth,' the orc grunts.  'New recruit?'

'Yeah, some gobbo from the middle caverns.  Picked him up in Ool-Nacha.  Comes recommended.  Boss home?'

'Yeah, he just came back from a raid.  Pay-day soon.'

'Better be,' Veth growls.  'Anyway, I'm going to bring the new guy up.'

'See you later.'

They traverse a network of rooms, with Veth advising Kraashgar of various passwords and how to avoid the lower level traps (such as an illusory floor, or a glyph of warding above a doorway).  They move up two levels and through some more corridors, through a hall with many statues (from a medusa who once lived in the dungeon, according to Veth) and past a room with a twisted, warped-looking plant of some kind '" the dungeon is huge.  It will take time for Kraashgar to get to know his way around the place.  They come to set of double doors guarded by a large gnoll, who lets them in.

In the center of the chamber beyond is a large dais that supports some kind of translucent, arcane illusion that looks like a three-dimensional ma of some sort.  A massively muscular, horned creature like a particularly large ogre with light blue skin and black eyes looms over the map broodingly, speaking in low tones with a wiry female drow.  The ogre mage radiates power and authority.

'Hey, Boss,' Veth says.  'Brought a new recruit.'

'Name's Kraashgar,' Kraashgar says boldly.

'Uh, yeah,' Veth continues.  'Picked him up in Ool-Nacha.  Thought you'd better meet him.'

The ogre mage turns and fixes Kraashgar with his intense, scrutinizing stare.  His pupils are white.  He looks back towards Veth.

'He all you could find?'

'Yeah, not many takers down there.  Hopefully Grognash will find some more guys soon.'

'Fine.  We need all the help we can right now.  Give him the tour and then dump him with Skelus.  We need our traps reset, and fast.  Godsdamn dwarves set everything off, there's a huge mess on level one, and some idiot forgot a password and got polymorphed from a glyph.  I think the dwarves are regrouping, so we need to be ready.'

He looks back at our hero again, fixing him with those eerie black eyes.

'Welcome to my Lair, Kraashgar.  I hope you won't disappoint me.'[/ic][ooc]Obraxus would, of course, have to be voiced by Tim Curry (link (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bLTTKwE_Lho)). [/ooc]

hmmm...episode 11 is missing...or maybe 12 is misnamed...

[ooc]Thanks, Loch.  Episode 12 was misnamed - I was originally going to split The Commute into two parts, but Kraashgar did very little in The Commute Part Two (it was supposed to have a kind of Half-life Tram Ride (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7J80KD4BG7M) vibe - a little bit railroady, I admit, but kind of fun, and in the next episode the player gets a more hands-on approach).

What does everyone think so far?  Any suggestions for my DMing?  For quest/task ideas?  I have one more episode to put put, just needs illustration.[/ooc]

[ic=Episode 12: Maintenance]After meeting his new boss, Obraxus the ogre mage, Kraashgar is ushered from the map room to the third level armory, where he is met by a scrawny kobold weapon master, Kurlok.

'Okay new guy,' Kurlok snaps.  'You can sign out one weapon and one suit of armor.  Now that's not your property, it's the Boss's, so you break something or lose something, it's coming out of your paycheck, got it?'

'Alright, shouldn't be an issue.'  Kraashgar selects a morningstar and a suit of studded leather armor from the trove and signs them out.

'Okay, then, I'm going to drop you off at Skelus' workshop,' Veth tells our hero.  'I think he's got some jobs for you.'

The barghest brings Kraashgar up a level and down a set of passages to a vaulted chamber with walls plastered with blueprints of every variety.  Large benches and tables full of mechanical and alchemical devices dominate the room: gears and springs and coils, pipes and pumps, valves, small models, glow-globes, vials of liquid, beakers, and dozens of tools.  Another kobold scurries about the room, followed by a goblin assistant.  He wears enormous goggles, heavy black gloves, and a stained apron, and is quite occupied peering obsessively into decanters of silvery liquid and muttering to himself while his assistant proffers books or tools.

'Skelus, this is Kraashgar, a new hire.  He doesn't know his way around the dungeon yet.'

'Sure, whatever,' the kobold says irritably, not looking up from his work.  Veth grins toothily, shrugs, and leaves.  After a moment, Skelus looks up from some device he'd been fiddling with.

'Alright, then, don't just stand there.  The first level traps need to be reset.  Here, you'll need this.'  He grabs an ornate wand and shoves it in Kraashgar's face.  'That's a Wand of Detect Magic.  It's simple to use, just press the button on the side'¦ that'll let you reveal arcane marks on certain flagstones.  Push those flagstones, and you'll open a door to one of our maintenance tunnels.  Now I'll need you to reset the crushing-room trap first.  And clean it out, will you?  It starts to smell if you don't.  After that, reset the first level pit traps and the rock-and-a-sharp-place trap.'

'How do I get to the first level?'

'Ugh, I don't believe this.  Alright.  We're on the third floor sublevel.  You have to leave this workshop, take a left, head down the stairs, then go straight, ignoring the side passages, up two flights of steps to level two.  From there you go through the second level forehall and up the main passage to the central hall, near the mess hall.  Take a left up the stairs from the central hall to the guard-room, then a right up the stairs to level one.    The crushing-room trap is down the passage directly opposite the first floor guard-room where you'll come out.  Got that?'

'Uh, I think so.'

'Well, get on with you, we've got no idea when those damn adventurers or Zog knows that clan of bloody dwarves will be back'¦'

Kraashgar heads out of the trapsmith's workshop and makes his way to the crushing room trap, getting lost only once along the way.  He opens the door to the crushing room and finds a blank wall in front of him, with a seam down the center..  He activates the wand he was given and finds a nearby arcane mark, pushes the flagstone it was graven on, enters the passage behind the secret door, and swiftly locates the console for the crushing room; a peephole shows the current state of the chamber.

There are three levers.  Kraashgar experiments; the first lever separates the two halves of the crushing room (floor and ceiling); the second lever doesn't appear to do anything at all, and the third lever lowers only the ceiling portion of the trap, so that there is still space to enter the room (though an orc would need to duck).  Kraashgar enters the chamber but hears a sudden click '" the floor is now rising as well!  He jumps back through the door and scurries back to the console.  He resets the trap, lowers the ceiling, and now pulls the second lever.  When he returns to the trapped room, the floor doesn't rise '" the second lever is a lock, a safety mechanism.

Something that might once have been a gnome is now a sticky red smear on the floor and ceiling.  Kraashgar sweeps away the body parts and, after searching the surrounding chambers, locates a mop and bucket.  After stumbling into the foundry room (tended by a salamander and his two mephit assistants) and a couple of guardrooms '" one in which a pair of goblins and a troglodyte bet on a fight between a pair of live, oversized spiders '" Kraashgar finds a fountain to fill the bucket, and sets about cleaning the room.  On the advice of a goblin guard he deposits the larger chunks of gore in the bucket of bloody water and sloshes the vile mixture into the cage of the level one guards' pet carrion crawler, which munches on them gratefully.

He resets the trap and locks it, then moves through the room to the corridor with the pit traps, following a similar process to the crushing room trap '" find the secret door, activate the console, reset the trap.  He also has to replace tripwires that function as red herrings '" the trip wires don't activate anything, but anyone jumping over one will jump straight onto the pressure plate for a pit trap.

Now, onto the rock-and-a-sharp-place trap.[/ic]

Quote from: SPHe also has to replace tripwires that function as red herrings '" the trip wires don't activate anything, but anyone jumping over one will jump straight onto the pressure plate for a pit trap.

Now that sounds like a good grimtooth trap. By the way, will Grimtooth be having a cameo? His book is excellent.
http://www.scribd.com/doc/2567537/Grimtooths-Traps
http://www.amazon.com/Grimtooths-Dungeons-Dragons-Fantasy-Roleplaying/dp/1588461394

It seems very bureaucratic here. I am definitely getting the Dungeon Keeper vibe.

You may also enjoy playing the flash game www.kongregate.com/games/kendric/dungeon-defender Dungeon Defender.

I really enjoyed the Magmin portrait.

Will we see any Mount Zogon influences? (By 'Tony', the same artist who did the more famous Zogonia... but better.)

[ooc]Hadn't seen Grimtooth before, but thanks for the links!  I'll steal some of thsoe for another level.

A Mount Zogon sort of party might make an appearance at some point.

Cool game too - and the bureaucracy is quite intentional.  The whole place is supposed to feel sort of like a hybrid of a typical DnD dungeon and an office or similar workplace; I really want that watercooler/mondays/cube-farm sort of feel to bits of it.  The familiar made strange and the strange familiar; sort of the essence of weird, even if the world is pretty typical.

Dungeon Keeper's a big influence, especially the Boss (who's practically a blue version of the mentor from DK2, though maybe a bit less relentlessly bloodthirsty; I was also thinking about Shere Khan from Talespin...).[/ooc]

[ic=Episode 13: Sidetracked]Kraashgar heads up through the first level of the dungeon and makes his way to the rock-and-a-sharp-place trap.  A huge block '" part of the trap '" blocks the corridor.  Kraashgar attempts to use the Wand of Detect Magic he'd been given, but it doesn't appear to be working '" he doesn't detect any magic, and so can't locate the arcane mark that indicates the right stone to depress.  He tries a few more locations, then returns to the pit traps.  He tries the wand by the secret door he's used before '" it doesn't work.  The wand is out of charges.  Since he left the pit traps locked, he simply jumps over the tripwires, returns to the crushing-room trap, finds the secret door to the right of the entrance by trial and error (since he's used this one before, he knows roughly where to search), and returns to the trapsmith's workshop.

'You finished resetting those traps?'  The kobold asks.  'Took you long enough'¦'

'Not quite yet.  This wand is out of charges.'

'What?  Take it to Thollom on level three.  He can recharge it for you.  His laboratory is just down from the cell block.'

'Okay.'  Kraashgar saw the cellblock once, taking a wrong turn.  He makes his awy through the dungeon corridors best he can, trying to remember landmarks '" some Draconic graffiti, a rotten tapestry, a mound of rubble, runic engravings.  Slowly he is getting used to navigating the labyrinth.

Finally he arrives at the laboratory: a long hall full of esoteric machinery, dominated by large cylindrical tubes of glass, each filled with a phosphorescent-green, alchemical liquid in which a different creature is suspended.  Consoles graven with odd runes are set before the tubes, one of which a reptilian creature with grayish skin, red robes, and a complex-looking mechanical staff tinkers with, while a weird-looking beast like a bipedal blue lizard follows him around, snuffling and snapping its tri-fold jaw.  Arched doorways reveal some side-rooms to the main laboratory, one of them with a blood-stained throne or chair, another filled with books and occult alchemical equipment.

The tubes contain some truly bizarre creatures: a beast like a manta ray crossed with a bat, a coiled, serpentine worm with many legs, a head with leathery wings for ears, a strange humanoid thing with four arms, a single foot, and six beady eyes, and a four-armed, red-scaled horror with insectile mandibles, to name a few.  There's also a large figure that looks pieced together out of oddments of flesh, mostly drow and orc, standing statue-like in one corner.

'Uh, sir?'  Kraashgar asks.  'I'm Kraashgar, the new minion.  I need this wand recharged.'

'Recharged?'  The Slaad turns.  'Hmn, well.  One thing you'll learn in this place, little one, is the principle of quid pro quo.  You do me a little favor, I'll do you one in return, yes?'

'Uh, okay, I guess.'

'Good.  Well, little one, here's the problem.  One of my, ah, projects has rather unceremoniously flown the coop, as it were.  Naughty little fellow wriggled out of his fetters while I was working on him and got into the ventilation system.

'Now, fortunately there's no way for him to have left the Lair: there are iron grills on all the outer exits.  So I know he's somewhere in the dungeon, and the kitchen staff have reported a couple of thefts from the pantry, so he can't have starved to death.  Probably just biding his time and hoping to make a break for it, the cheeky little thing.

'Anyway, I need you to wriggle on into the ventilation tunnels and see if you can't track him down.  He's not very big mind you, just a wee little thing, quite a bit smaller than you.  You can use this' '" here the Slaad presents a large syringe filled with a black liquid to our hero '" 'To knock him out.  Don't kill him mind you!  He's very valuable.  Oh, and you'll also need these. ' Here the creature gives Kraashgar a pair of goggles with glyph-etched lenses.  'The clever little rotter can turn himself invisible, but those'll let you see him just fine.

'The vent is over there, in that corner.  Now be careful!  He stole a scalpel on his way out, one of my sharpest, and he's bound to have a bit of pluck left in him, especially if cornered!  You come back with him, though, and I'd be happy to recharge that wand for you.  Sound fair?'

'Yeah, I'll be back as soon as I catch it.  What does it look like?'

'You'll know it when you see it.'[/ic]

1 of my pc's has 3 traps in grimtooths.

[ic=Episode 14: Eavesdropping]Kraashgar clambers up onto a bench and pulls open the grate that covers the shaft.  He pulls himself up and into the tunnel; he has to crouch a little to enter, but doesn't have to crawl on his hands and knees '" one of the few advantages to being a goblin.  He straps on the goggles, readies his syringe, and beings to creep through the shafts.  The hunt begins!

The shafts are even more confusing than the rest of the dungeon.  Kraashgar creeps through them slowly, pausing frequently to listen.  He encounters a few other tunnel denizens that obviously aren't the thing he's looking for '" a large rat and a bloated, oversized spider '" but dispatches them without too much trouble, though he dose sustain a nasty bite from the rat.  He looks through a hole in one wall where a flagstone is missing and briefly taunts an elf prisoner in the cells before moving on in search of whatever creature escaped from the Slaad's lair.  Wish he'd been more specific about what this thing looked like.

He attempt to navigate by peering through the grills that intersperse the stone corridors, looking down onto guard-rooms and into what look like the bottom of the pit-traps '" he sees a multi-headed dragon-like creature and a pack of quilled, wolfish predators prowling about the floors of these.  He descends ladders and sloped chutes, carefully maneuvering down the rusted rungs and narrow, slanting passages.

Kraashgar hears heavy booted footsteps echoing down one tunnel and scuttles over to a grill to peer inside, more curious than anything.  Through the shaft's small grill he can see a hexagonal chamber whose walls and floor are covered in glowing runes, surrounding an ornate series of concentric circles at the chamber's center.  There's a pair of huge double doors on one wall and a smaller doorway on another.  Obraxus the Ogre Mage, Kraashgar's Boss, stands at the center of the room, alone.  He speaks an incantation and a creature suddenly materializes in a puff of sulphurous smoke: a bat-winged imp with a barbed tail and a toothy grin on its face.

'What have you learned, Shez?'

'Ill news, master,' the imp replies.  'The townsfolk have hired another party to, um, dispose of your eminence.  It's a vicious cycle: the adventurers show up, pump the local economy full of gold, get hired, die, and then use all the gold the adventurers spent on drinks and weapons and what-have-you to hire another party!  The mayor's a canny one, he's only been giving them a quarter pay in advance, so the town's still making a net profit out of all this, and the taxes are so high that the mayor sees a good portion of it himself.  It might be wise to, ah, remove him from power.'

'Good work, Shez.  It may be time to contact that dreadfully useful tiefling again, he did excellent work last time.'

Suddenly there's a booming knock at the doors.  Kraashgar tenses and edges to one side '" he doesn't want to risk being spotted.  He can still hear, though.

'Enter!'  Obraxus bellows.

He hears the doors open, and then a high, raspy voice speaks.

'I'm ever so sorry to bother you, master, but '" '

'Get to the point, Morkoth.'

'Yes, well, Chalsezce is here and he's upset about something and he said he'd only meet with you.  He's in a bit of a mood, you know how he can get.  Called me, a sycophantic newt.  Told me I smelled like grick cheese.'

'Ha!  He was being generous.  Show him in.'

'I'm coming in and I don't care if you want me or not,' a new voice says, nasal and unpleasant.  'I've got a bone to pick with you, Ogre Mage, and I'm not leaving till this gets settled.'

'What is it this time, Chalsezce?'

'Some of your filthy employees have been using the fifth level fountains for baths, and who knows what else.  You agreed at the last dungeon-inhabitants meeting that the fountain was a shared space.  You know the sound of running water soothes me, and all I've got on my levels is that bloody cistern, doesn't do the trick at all.  But it smells horrible now, Obraxus, and it looks like something was drowned in the damn thing. The water's filthy!'

'Look, Chalsezce, I sympathize, I really do, but I don't really have time for this right now.  I'm in the middle of a crisis here, I'm seriously understaffed and I've got dwarves attacking level three and this damn surface town keeps sending packs of bloody adventurers in through the front door.  You don't have to worry about them, you only need to perk up if they make it down to level six, and let's face it, that's not very likely.  Can't this wait till the next meeting?'

'No, it can't, Obraxus, and I don't give a high elf's fart about any adventurers, that's your problem and the price you pay for having access to the Overworld.  I want the fountain cleaned, by your workers, and I want it made clear that the fountain is not for bathing, or drinking, or anything else!  It's purely decorative!'  The voice sounds increasingly shrill.

'Fine, fine.  I'll ask Caustic to refresh everyone on the fifth floor etiquette policies, and we just hired a new minion so we'll have him muck out the fountain.  Okay?'

'Alright.  You can tell Caustic that it'd better be done and done quickly, and the next time I catch someone befouling that fountain I'm going to personally float up here and petrify her.  I'll use her as a bloody hat-rack!'

'Yes, yes, I'll pass it on.'

The doors clank shut.  Kraashgar hears the Ogre Mage thud out of the room, grumbling under his breath.  The goblin lets out a breath and continues his hunt.[/ic]

[ic=Episode 15: Cyborg]Kraashgar continues his hunt through the dungeon's ventilation shafts, pausing and listening frequently.  He hears a skittering sound down a side-shaft, and steals as quietly as he can towards the sound.  He rounds a corner and a  shape resolves out of the darkness: a small, scrawny creature with the lower body of an insect and the upper body of a tiny, delicately featured humanoid.  It clutches a stained scalpel in one hand.  Its left arm, he notes, has been replaced with a strange, whirring clockwork appendage, stitched and wired into its flesh.  Heh, I don't think these things breed down here.

Kraashgar lunges towards it with the syringe, and it squeals in terror, flinging a weft or net of magical threads towards our hero!  Kraashgar attempts to evade, but the shaft is too tight '" he is entangled in the eldritch threads!  He struggles and squirms, attempting to escape, but Thollom's experiment has already scurried off down the tunnel.

After several minutes the arcane threads dissolve and Kraashgar is freed.  He sets out again in search of the bizarre hybrid of creature and machine, scrambling down more ladders and through the confusing knot of passageways.  He seems to have lost the trail, and curses the little beast silently.

Finally he hears the familiar skittering again and darts towards it, as silent as possible.  The thing has its back turned as he comes up behind it.  He aims carefully with the syringe, thrusts hard, and depresses the plunger.  The cyborg squeaks, half turns, and then falls to the floor, unconscious.

Kraashgar throws the fey over his shoulder.  Rather than attempting to get back the way he came he kicks open the nearest grate and drops into the room below '" a shrine, smelling strongly of burnt flesh.  A pair of braziers flare at the far wall, flanking a charred altar set before a gibbering clay idol depicting some bestial, monstrous-looking deity; some remnants of what might be dwarven ancestor-gods or something similar can be seen in niches about the room's periphery, but most have been smashed, beheaded, or otherwise defaced, and spidery graffiti covers the walls.

A gray-furred gnoll seems to minister this shrine.  When Kraashgar drops into the room she bristles, then relaxes.

'Uh, sorry about that,' Kraashgar says sheepishly.  'I'm the new guy here.'

'What is that thing?'  The gnoll priestess asks.

'No idea.  It escaped from Thollom's lab.'

'Typical.  Are you wounded?'

'No '" although I did get bitten by a big rat back there.'

Hm.  Not much damage, but it could have infected you with something.'  She mutters a spell.

'Thanks.'

'Don't mention it.'

Our hero heads back towards the lab, getting lost only a couple of times before he finds his way to the cell block and the Slaad's rooms.  He hefts the cyborg fey onto the ground.

'What is that?'  Thollom asks, squinting, while his familiar sniffs at the unconscious creature.

'Uh '" isn't this the thing you wanted?'

'Never seen it before in my life.'

'What?!  You mean I have to go back there?'

'Kidding!  Kidding!  Yes, that's Subject E47-J.  Here, I'll recharge that wand.'[/ic][ooc]I allowed the grig to use entangle without the presence of plants.  I can always say it's a function of the clockwork/bionic arm.  It certainly increased the player's annoyance with the grig (already high), so just for that it was worth it '" made it a lot more satisfying to catch it in the end.

I'm trying to begin ramping up both the humor and the horror in the campaign.  I sort of want to take the story in dark directions, but while maintaining a very comic, madcap sort of approach.[/ooc]

Quote from: SteerpikeI'm trying to begin ramping up both the humor and the horror in the campaign.  I sort of want to take the story in dark directions, but while maintaining a very comic, madcap sort of approach.

so in other words... a goblin story :P

http://planet-thirteen.com/Dungeon.aspx (How to Host a Dungeon)

It seems to have similar inspirations to what you are doing here. (Especially with the adventurers and the Dwarven Civilization)

On another note; if you advertise this at some other sites/places (where it is appropriate), it may drive in new blood and new creators to the site-- you missed a thread a few months back where we were discussing a bit about population here (which is very appropriate- but which I was wondering why it was so low considering the great technology, the good community, and the useful feedback)

Good luck!
~LD

You?  Humor and Horror?  Perish the thought.

[ooc][blockquote=Nomadic]so in other words... a goblin story[/blockquote]Heh that's the idea.[blockquote=Light Dragon]URL (How to Host a Dungeon)

It seems to have similar inspirations to what you are doing here.[/blockquote]It's like a pen and paper version of  dwarf fortress! (http://www.bay12games.com/dwarves/) [blockquote=Vreeg]You? Humor and Horror? Perish the thought.[/blockquote]Glad it's still somewhat resonant with my other stuff, despite the more "vanilla" trappings.[/ooc]

Quote from: http://www.bay12games.com/dwarves/dwarf fortress![/url]

I wonder what the stat block would look like for a war carp.

[ic=Episode 16: Rock-And-A-Sharp-Place]His wand recharged, Kraashgar heads back to level one to finish resetting the traps there.  He bypasses the crushing-room trap and the pit traps and heads up a spiral staircase towards the rock-and-a-sharp-place trap.  As he scuttles up the stairs he meets another dungeon denizen '" the drow woman he saw before, in Obraxus' Map Room.

'Hey, you '" you're the new guy, right,' the dark elf demands.

'Yeah, that's me.  Kraashgar.'

'I'm Caustic.  Number two round here.  You do what I say, and don't ask questions, we won't have any problems.  Now what are you doing?'

'Skelus asked me to reset the first level traps.  I've done everything but the rock-and-a-sharp place.'

'Well, carry on, but after that go down to the fifth level and scrub out the fountain there, got it?'

'Will do.'  (Yes sir?)

Caustic seems satisfied with this and heads down the stairwell without another word, so our hero hurries up to the slab blocking the corridor.  He uses his wand, and this time an arcane mark appears.  He presses the relevant flagstone and enters the maintenance corridor.

The console for this trap is complex: three levers, a winch, and a crank.  The eye-hole reveals each relevant piece of the trap: a stone slab and a section of spring-loaded floor that flips up against it, studded with spikes that bury themselves in holes on the side of the slab.

He tries the winch.  No luck.  None with the crank, either.  He tries the first lever and the spikes retract.  Good so far.  He pulls the other two levers, but they just click.  He tries the winch and crank again but they're still stuck.

Focusing, Kraashgar reasons that the two latter levers are probably safety locks, so he disengages them.  This time the winch works, so with tiny muscles straining from the effort he winches back the huge stone slab, back into its position in the ceiling.  Now he cranks back the spring-loaded floor section, resetting the trap.

Mission accomplished!  There's nothing Kraashgar would like more than to settle in for a hot meal and a rest, but he still has to scrub out the fifth level fountain.  He trudges back, making sure that the pit traps have been activated on his way, and double-checking the crushing-room.

He's barely made it to the second floor entrance when an alarm blares over some unseen magical speaker system.  Caustic's voice resounds from a nearby dwarf statue.

'Alright everyone, we've got incoming adventurers.  Repeat, incoming adventurers.  Everyone to stations!'

Looks like Kraashgar finished resetting the traps just in time!  He wonders what he should do.  Go to a guard-room?  Continue with his allotted tasks?  He hasn't been prepped for this yet!

He looks back towards where he knows the secret door to the crushing-room trap is.  He spent all this time resetting the traps, why shouldn't he get to watch them in action?  Making sure that the coast is clear, he uses his wand to discern the arcane mark, then enters the maintenance room behind the trap, to watch through the peephole.  Hopefully some intruders are going to get pancaked![/ic][ooc]Thought I'd provide a dungeon map in lieu of the usual illustration.[/ooc]

This is getting good, keep it up.

[ic=Episode 17: The Crawl]Our heroes pause at the mouth of the fell Ogre Mage, Obarxus the Accursed.  The huge, rune-etched doors of the monster's Lair stand before them on the mountainside, a flight of stone steps leading upwards around the cliff-face.  Tul, the half-orc fighter-rogue, spots some arrow-slits carved into the cliff along the stairway.

'Best we press ourselves against the rock,' he advises his companions, the canny half-elf sorcerer Kenneth and the formidable human cleric Cal.  'Avoid their archers.'

The three stalwart adventurers thus approach the front doors, sidling against the walls, directly below and thus out of reach of any archers above.

The front door is sealed with a lock of ingenious dwarf make.  Tul checks for any traps but finds none.  Despite his best efforts the half-orc is unable to tease open the prolix tumblers within.  He turns to Cal, who calls up the untold powers of his deity and offers up a mystic prayer.  The Power answers, and Tul is blessed with Bull's Strength.  Combined with his Gauntlets of Ogre Power and his natural half-orc brawn, the mighty Tul manages to force open one half of the double-doors, his massive green biceps straining with the effort.

The door gives, exposing a dark room beyond.  With his darkvision Tul can discern a few details: another door at the fair end, some loose rubble, decapitated dwarven statues, and a graffiti-marred mosaic on the floor.  He sticks his head in to get a better look and is almost skewered by arrows, as hidden archers in an unseen gallery let fly!  Their arrows clatter of the iron door and Tul jerks his head back.

'One-Eye's Empty Socket!'  Tul curses.  'More bloody archers!'

'I'll take care of them,' Kenneth proclaims, rolling up the sleeves of his robe.  Ioun stones swirl about his head, and his palms crackle with eldritch puissance as he swaggers into the chamber, already intoning an arcane incantation.  He channels raw magical energy and a swarm of magic missiles burst from his hands, squirting with uncanny accuracy through the arrow-slits.  There are yelps of pain and sounds of sizzling flesh.

The other two enter the front chamber and Tul rushes to the far door, lest reinforcements arrive.  While Cal and Kenneth cast divine and arcane shields on themselves Tul busies himself with the next lock, and this time manages to defeat the dwarven mechanisms.  The doors swing open, revealing a huge, pillared hall beyond.  More arrow slits are evident along the walls, and an impressive wooden door is evident at the end.

'Okay, guys,' Tul growls.  'Get ready to run.  I'm going to charge that door.  You guys follow and draw their fire.'  His companions nod.  Tul braces himself, then launches into the hall.

Arrows whiz past him as he darts between pillars towards the far end.  One grazes his head and others bounce off his enchanted chain shirt.  He hears Kenneth grunt in pain and looks back to see the half-elf wrench an arrow from his side while others bounce harmlessly off his arcane shield.

Tul works up as much momentum as he can and rams the door, shattering it from its hinges, just as an arrow buries itself in a shoulder-joint.  He yowls with pain and ducks into the room beyond, his companions close behind.

'Looks like we're safe here,' Cal notes, before mouthing a few low-level healing spells to close the arrow-wounds of his companions.

The room our heroes find themselves in is small and spare, with a single exit.  This they take, all three straining for a moment to batter it down before it yields in a burst of splinters.

The corridor beyond is crooked.  Tul gestures that he will scout ahead and begins searching for traps along the passage's walls and floor.  He's made it halfway through when he hears an ominous clicking sound, and a section of the ceiling descends rapidly towards him!  He attempts to use his rogue's reflexes to avoid the trap, but is too slow, just barely stopping the block from crushing him entirely by using his immense strength, still augmented magically, to hold the block up; pain hammers through his arms and down through his body, and he can feel his bones jarred nearly to the point of snapping.  A section of the floor swings up and spikes pop out, but fortunately Tul is too far away to be impaled, and his companions are too far back.  With prodigious effort Tul pushes the block back into the ceiling, then carefully forces the floor-panel back into place.  His companions follow after him, Cal already speaking another healing spell.

The descend a flight of spiral steps and pass down a corridor, Tul now checking for traps with typical adventurer's obsessiveness.  The three eventually pass through a small pillared hall and into another corridor.  Tul spots two tripwires and slinks forward.  He cuts the first expertly, rolling backwards to avoid any danger, but nothing happens.

'Clever trick,' the half-orc mutters, now groping for a seam or pressure-plate.  He finds one and gingerly depresses it, so that a pit gapes open harmlessly in the floor.  The three easily make the jump across, and Tul repeats the process with the second trap, spitting derisively into the latter pit before pressing forward.

He kicks down the door and discovers a guard-room.  Three gnolls and an orc stand in the room, tables overturned, weapons drawn!  The half-orc unsheathes his greatsword and his companions ready their own weapons.

The melee is short and bloody.  Two gnolls head for Tul, obviously the strong-man of the group, while the orc and remaining gnoll focus on the cleric and sorcerer.  Kenneth attacks with a sheet of flame, searing one gnoll, while Cal swings his massive mace, crushing the orcs skull, though not before taking a wound of his own.  The burnt gnoll howls with pain and rage and swings its flail, nearly breaking Kenneth's concentration as the sorcerer finishes him off with a Scorching Ray.

Tul's armour protects him from the gnolls' attacks as he lays about with his enormous blade.  He overpowers one gnoll's parry and wounds the creature badly, parries its counter-attack and ripostes with a vicious sweep that cuts the bestial humanoid in two!  He cleaves, allowing his inertia to carry him forward, and lops off the other gnoll's arm.  The horrible creature growls and slashes madly before Tul decapitates it.

The minions lie dead.  They loot the bodies swiftly, adding some imperceptible increment to the huge hoard of gold they already possess, tucked safely inside Kenneth's Bag of Holding.  Now Tul turns to the door the creatures were guarding: iron, again, though unlocked.  He checks for traps, but finds none.

Still breathing hard, Tul enters the chamber beyond: a hexagonal one, with slightly stained floors.  He hears a click, and turns back to find the doors suddenly closing '" he must have missed  another trap!  This is not the half-orc's day.  He hurls himself back towards the closing door but bounces off as it snaps shut with grim finality.  He hears muffled voices behind the door as his companions attempt to breach it with magic, just as he notices that the floor is rising and the ceiling dropping.  He feels an upwelling of panic.  This can't be the end '" not like this!  Claimed by some wretched trap?  Surely if he was to die it would be in single combat with the Ogre Mage itself, just after dealing the evil thing a mortal wound!

Tul has a few brief moments of pure terror and regret before the crushing room reduces him to a pulpy greenish-red paste.

Peering through a peephole in a hidden corridor, a goblin chuckles with satisfaction.[/ic][ooc]The player played Tul this session, a half-orc Rogue 3/Fighter 7.  It was something of a challenge for him not to meta-game, but he did fairly well (yeah he searched for traps, but he did so whether he knew there was a trap or not, and when he failed a Search check he plowed straight on through.  Hence the squishage).  Kraashgar will return next Episode, when he finds out how Caustic got her name.[/ooc]

[ic=Episode 18: Charm Person]Kraashgar smirks with pleasure, the screams of the foolish adventurer still echoing through the dungeon halls.  Suddenly he hears a sound at the secret door entrance '" voices, in a language he doesn't understand, followed by the sound of the door grinding open!  The goblin grits his teeth, raises his morningstar, and charges down towards the secret door, hurtling out of the darkness like a small, furious, green missile.  He strikes the first opponent he sees '" a half-elf in blue robes.  The adventurer yells in surprise and pain as Kraashgar prepares for another blow!

Before Kraashgar can attack again the sorcerer has retaliated, spitting forth a quick incantation.  Our hero feels a strange sensation overcome him which he tries and fails to resist.  Suddenly he realizes something obvious: the half-elf isn't his enemy, but his friend!  He knows this intuitively and indisputably: the sorcerer is his eternal ally, and he must do all he can to assist him.  The strange creature speaks '" if only Kraashgar could understand him!  The other intruder '" an armoured human '" says somtheing else, again in an unfamiliar tongue, and the sorcerer speaks again, touching Kraashgar lightly.  Suddenly their gibberish resolves into speech.

'Goblin!  We need to find the Ogre Mage Obraxus.  Lead us to him!'

'Uh, why do you need to find him?'

'We have come to slay the hideous beast and cleanse the land of his foulness,' the human declares.

Kraashgar considers this.  On the one hand, the half-elf is his friend, and the human is his companion.  On the other hand, Obraxus is his boss, and he just got this job.  He wrestles with the decision.

'No way I could persuade you to, maybe, turn around?'

'My friend Cal is just joking,' the half-elf says, glaring at the human.  'We just need to talk with your master.  First, deactivate the trap.'

'Okay, sure.'  Kraashgar pulls the lever and the trap opens.  He locks the crushing room for good measure '" he wouldn't want his new friend to activate it by mistake!

'Now come with us, goblin,' the half-elf commands.  Kraashgar doesn't feel compelled to obey, but it seems much easier to just go along with what the adventurer tells him.  The three enter the room: the gory remains of the half-orc glisten on the floor.

'Not enough to raise,' the human notes.  'Gods, not enough to bury.'  The Overworlder glares at Kraashgar with barely restrained malice.

'Well, he could be sort of an oaf anyway.'  The half-elf shrugs.  'We can take the Ogre Mage by ourselves.  Now, goblin, lead on!'

Kraashgar thinks long and hard.  Part of him doesn't believe the half-elf.  Maybe the creature cast some sort of '" but no.  The adventurer is his friend; he wouldn't wish Kraashgar any harm.

'Okay, I'll try.  It's my first day, though,' the goblin says sheepishly.

'Great,' the human grumbles.  'Of all the minions we could have picked, we got the new guy.'

'Come on, let's just follow him' the half-elf says.

Kraashgar leads the intruders through the maintenance corridor and out into the cross-section.  He guard-room is up ahead.  He's sure if he just explains that the half-elf and the human aren't a real threat, the guards will understand'¦

He opens the door.  The adventurers push past him as the troglodytes, orcs, and kobolds inside charge forwards.

Kraashgar's shrieks of protest are quickly drowned out as the battle begins.  He slinks to a corner, paralyzed with indecision, while the adventurers and the dungeon guards engage one another.  Spells fly, weapons clash, and blood spatters the flagstone floors.  For a moment it looks like the intruders will overcome the defenders '" and then Caustic ascends the from the second level, a pair of minions beside her, glowing with a greenish aura.  She speaks a spell and the green glow extends to the remaining minions (including Kraashgar); then, as the adventurers begin mouthing their own incantations, she makes a furious gesture and an acidic green cloud erupts from her fingers, filling the guard-room!  The half-elf manages to squeeze off a quick spell, but it rebounds off Caustic, repelled by some unseen force.  The sorcerer and cleric scream in pain as their flesh blisters and melts, sloughing off their bones.  The corrosive gas reduces them to piles of bones; the other minions, protected from the spell's effects, are unharmed.

Caustic grimaces and strides over to Kraashgar, speaking another spell.  The goblin's horror and intense sorrow at his friend's demise dissolves instantly, and he realizes with an epiphany of self-disgust that he had been duped and ensorcelled.

'The Boss is going to have to hear about this,' Caustic declares, his voice dripping venom.  'You lot, clean up this mess and check to see if they have anything valuable.  And someone rest the bloody traps.  And you '" ' she looks down at our hero ' '" are coming with me.'

Gulp.[/ic]

[ic=Dramatis Personae]In Order of Appearance

(http://img269.imageshack.us/img269/5340/kraashgar.jpg)  Kraashgar '" Our hero.  A young goblin warrior from the Great Below, his tribe has been slaughtered by adventurers.

(http://img188.imageshack.us/img188/4459/ysshera.jpg)  Ysshera '" Ettercap merchant.  Gave Kraashgar a lift to Ool-Nacha.

(http://img529.imageshack.us/img529/7866/rancid.jpg)  Rancid '" Troglodyte and wealthy merchant.  Runs Ool-Nacha.

(http://img406.imageshack.us/img406/6994/alabastor.jpg)  Alastor '" Tiefling bounty hunter and assassin.  Kraashgar impressed him by killing a derro in a knife-fight at the Blind Beholder tavern.

(http://img406.imageshack.us/img406/7603/shub.jpg)  Shub '" Unusually friendly roper.  Bartender at the Blind Beholder in Ool-Nacha.

(http://img156.imageshack.us/img156/9639/grognash.jpg)  Grognash '" Orc minion of Obraxus, in charge of recruitment.  Poor speller, but smart for an orc.

(http://img39.imageshack.us/img39/9534/veth.jpg)  Veth '" Barghest Ranger.  Minion of Obraxus.  Helped Kraashgar kill some magmins and escorted him to the Lair.

(http://img391.imageshack.us/img391/1540/obraxus.jpg)  Obraxus '" Ogre Mage.  Kraashgar's Boss as of Episode 11.  Rents the top five levels of a former dwarven stronghold from Illithids.  Quite intimidating.

(http://img115.imageshack.us/img115/2529/cautisc.jpg)  Caustic '" Drow Wizardess.  Obraxus' second-in-command.  Specializes in acid magic.  Hard-ass.

(http://img204.imageshack.us/img204/6091/kurlok.jpg)  Kurlok '" Irritable kobold weaponmaster.  Minion of Obraxus.

(http://img379.imageshack.us/img379/2427/skelus.jpg) Skelus '" Absentminded kobold trapsmith.  Minion of Obraxus.

(http://img196.imageshack.us/img196/136/thollom.jpg)  Thollom '" Gray Slaad.  Sublets a laboratory in Obraxus' Lair.  Had Kraashgar catch an escaped grig he was experimenting on.

(http://img404.imageshack.us/img404/1649/shez.jpg)  Shez '" Imp familiar of Obraxus.

(http://img132.imageshack.us/img132/316/chalsceze.jpg)  Chalsezce the Mad '" Cantankerous Beholder that rents the dungeon levels below Obraxus' Lair from the Mind Flayers.  Germophobe.

(http://img81.imageshack.us/img81/5512/tul.jpg)  Tul '" Half-orc Fighter/Rogue and adventurer.  The party strong-man and skill-monkey.  Squashed by a crushing-room trap on level one.

(http://img404.imageshack.us/img404/5751/kenneth.jpg)  Kenneth '" Half-elf Sorcerer and adventurer.  Party mage.  Charmed Kraashgar.  Slain by Caustic by a maximized Acid Fog spell.

(http://img210.imageshack.us/img210/1351/calh.jpg)  Cal '" Human cleric and adventurer.  Party medic.  A trifle grumpy.  Slain by Caustic.[/ic][ic=The Story So Far]Fleeing from the adventurers that destroyed his home, Kraashgar the goblin warrior found himself lost and hungry in the endless maze of caverns known as the Great Below.  He had a few near misses with some cavern denizens (a troll and some grimlocks) before straying into kobold territory, where he triggered a trap and slew several kobold guards on his way through a fungal village.  While in the nearby caverns he also discovered a former kuo-toan shrine and pocketed a holy symbol there, and found some fish and clean water.

The goblin eventually found his way to a subterranean highway, where he hitched a ride with an ettercap merchant called Ysshera, in exchange for the kuo-toan symbol.  She took him to the troglodyte-run town of Ool-Nacha, a former duerger outpost, by way of Mazinkor's Shaft.  Once in the town, he cleaned out a nest of stirges in a kuo-toan temple in exchange for healing.

Woozy from blood-loss but otherwise unharmed, Kraashgar made some gold at the local fighting pits, then  headed to the tavern, an establishment called the Blind Beholder owned by a roper named Shub.  After killing a drunken derro in a knife-fight he attracted the attention of a tiefling named Alastor, who recommended Kraashgar look into a job opportunity as an Ogre Mage's minion.

After a rest and some food, Kraashgar headed to the bazaar, where he found Grognash the orc, a recruiter for the Ogre Mage Obraxus.  After a short interview and a practical test that left him nearly dead (he had to fight a gnome zombie, to prove that hiring him alive was more cost-effective than killing and raising him), he was hired and sent to the local trog temple to find another employee of Obraxus, Veth the barghest.

Veth took Kraashgar up Mazinkor's Shaft to a series of caverns en route to Obarxus' Lair.  Here they fought off a few magmins, then took a grimlock-operated gondola/lift through to a set of Illithid-owned Mithril Mines.  From here they ascended to the Lair proper, where Kraashgar met his new boss, Obraxus, and became acquainted with some of the dungeon personalities, such as the drow Wizardess Caustic, the weaponmaster Kurlok (from whom he acquired new equipment), and the kobold trapsmith Skelus.  His first tasks required him to reset the traps on the first level, since an adventuring party set them off before being stopped.  He was given a Wand of Detect Magic to reveal arcane glyphs that mark secret doors in the dungeon.

After resetting most of the traps on level one, Kraashgar's wand ran out of charges and he was forced to seek the assistance of another dungeon denizen, a Gray Slaad called Thollom, in order to get it recharged.  Thollom had Kraashgar catch an escaped experiment of his, a cyborg grig that got into the dungeon ventilation shafts.  While hunting the grig Kraashgar overhead a conversation between Obraxus, his imp familiar Shez, and a beholder called Chalsezces the Mad, a neighbor.  He ascertained that a local Overworld town is hiring parties of adventurers to attempt to rid themselves of the Ogre Mage.

After getting his wand recharged, Kraashgar finished resetting the traps '" and just in time!  A party of adventurers hired by the town of Gloamwood arrived at the dungeon's front door and quickly penetrated the outer defenses.  They lost their Fighter/Rogue, a half-orc named Tul, to a crushing-room trap, before discovering Kraashgar ina  secret passage.  The party's half-elf Sorcerer, Kenneth, cast Charm Person and thus enchanted our goblin hero forcing him to lead the party deeper into the dungeon.

Fortunately, the party was stopped before they were able to descend any further, as Caustic, Obraxus' second-in-command, appeared in the first level's main guard-room and laid waste to the remaining party members (Kenneth and the party Cleric, a human named Cal) with a maximized Acid Fog spell, while sparing Kraashgar and the other minions.

Kraashgar is now being taken downstairs to give his report to Obraxus'¦[/ic][ooc]I thought a synopsis might be in order to help anyone just starting out who doesn't want to wade through a wall o' text, plus the campaign is starting to reach a more intricate level at which it migth be helpful to summarize the story and present the characters so far.[/ooc]

Re: Last Update (Oh no!)

2. When will the next update be?

[ooc]Soon, once I get some illustrations finished.[/ooc]

[ic=Episode 19: Redemption]Kraashgar is shown into the map-room; Obraxus glowers as the goblin delivers his report.

'In the future,' the Ogre Mage rumbles, 'report to the nearest guard-room instead of skulking around the maintenance corridors.  The next time, you will not be shown clemency.  Now, Caustic, take this little wretch down to the fifth level fountain.  That'll get Chalsecze off my back.'

The drow lieutenant nods and Kraashgar scuttles from the room behind her, filled with a mixture of terror and relief.  The two head down several levels to the fifth floor; Kraashgar notes an old dwarven council-chamber filled with carven thrones, and another room containing what looks like a free-standing doorway, covered in inscrutable runes, but they pass by both chambers, arriving at a hexagonal room with a central fountain, a tiered thing with fish-like statues spouting murky-looking water.

'The valve controls are over there,' Caustic says, gesturing.  'You'll find cleaning supplies down the corridor.  When you're done you can get a meal in the mess hall on the second level.  Disappoint me again and your ass is out of here.'  She strides away.

Kraashgar hurriedly begins cleaning, first draining the fountain's water supply, then fetching a brush and cleaning agents to scrub out the foul stains encrusting the fountain.  He is almost finished when a strange warbling resonates through the air behind him.  He turns.

Floating towards our hero is an enormous levitating orb with a mass of writhing eyestalks and a huge, bloodshot, central eye, accompanied by a scuttling duergar; they emerge from the gloom of an arched doorway.

'Ah, you must be Obraxus' new peon.'  The Beholder proclaims.

'Uh, yeah.'

'Well, allow me to introduce myself.  I'm Chalsecze, and this is my servitor, Nhazgar.'

'Kraashgar.'  The goblin gulps.

'Were those alarms I heard earlier?  More adventurers, I suppose?'

'Yes.  Three of them '" a human, a half-elf, and a half-orc.'

'And how did they fare?  Snared by the defenses, were they?'

'The first level traps had just been reset, so the half-orc got caught in the crushing room.  Caustic took care of the other two.'

'Of course she did '" such a capable woman!'  The Beholder blinks its huge eye.  'Mm, yes, well, I'm glad we had this little chat.  Thank you for humoring me, Kraashgar.  And indeed, for cleaning the fountain!  Nhazgar, throw him a tip, for gods-sake!'  The Beholder winks at the goblin with one of its eyestalks while the somber duegar flips something shiny through the air.  Kraashgar catches it and examines it: a small, golden ring, set with a central jewel like a staring eye.

'A token of my appreciation.  Well, ta then, Kraashgar'¦'  Chalsecze floats away, leaving the goblin to complete his task.

After turning the water back on Kraashgar makes his way back up to level two and locates the mess hall, where he is served a salty stew of some sort filled with lumps of meat, which some of the other denizens joke must be the remains of the adventurers.  Kraashgar avoids the noisy table of the gnolls, the reeking table of the troglodytes, the table filled with burly orcs and ogres, or the one with snooty-looking drow and heads to a table where kobolds, goblins, and several others are gathered, including the barghest Veth (who he has indeitfy the ring - it carries a minor protective charm!).  After the meal card-games are played; Kraahsgar loses a few silver pieces.  Finally he staggers to his barracks and falls asleep almost immediately.

He is awakened by a kobold he doesn't know.

'Caustic wants to see you, new guy,' the reptilian yaps.  'Something about a special assignment.  She and a bunch of others are up in the front hall on level one.  She said to give you these keys so you can get up there.'

It hands Kraashgar a ring of keys.

'Better hurry.'

Anxious not to ruffle any more feathers Kraashgar hastens upstairs, circumventing the traps.  Finally he arrives at the front hall.

Caustic stands in the center of the hall, addressing a small group of dungeon denizens: two gnolls, a troglodyte, and an orc.  Beside her is a much stranger creature: a massive beast with thick chitin armour, glistening mandibles, and meaty limbs, somewhere between a gigantic ape and an insect.  Perched atop this monstrosity is a small, spindly creature like a giant spider but with a long, sinuous neck and an evil-looking, eel-like visage.

'Ah, Kraashgar, glad you could join us.'  Caustic does not sound glad at all.  'I've decided to give you a chance for redemption after the charm fiasco.  You're going to be part of a surface raid.

'Now, most of you here know Zetch and his associate, Mr. Pincer.  They're going to be leading your raiding party.  The target is a merchant caravan heading to the Overworlders' town and carrying what we think is a shipment of dwarf-made firearms and ammunition, all Gearhead make.  It's coming from the dwarf's citadel, but it's going to much simpler to ambush the caravan once it makes it topside, rather than trying to intercept it while it's still Below.

'You'll head out at night.  Zetch will lead you to where the caravan should be if our intelligence is correct.  You'll strike hard and fast, taking the dwarves by surprise.  They'll be well-armed, but they'll be skittish about using firearms around such a large supply of blackpowder.

'If those weapons reach Gloamwood, our raids are going to get a lot more complicated.  Conversely, if we manage to obtain the weapons for ourselves, we stand a much better chance dealing with the humans' militia, and with any intruders.'

'Thank you, Caustic,' Zetch whines, in flawless Undercommon.  'We're going to move fast and we're going to move quietly.  We're aiming to kill, but ideally we want to keep at least one of the dwarves alive for questioning.  We'll be moving at night, so sunlight shouldn't be a problem.

"Any questions?'[/ic]

[ic=Episode 20: Surface]The front doors of Obraxus' Lair swing open and Kraashgar steps into what he can only conceive of as the largest cavern he's ever entered.  The roof is enormous, yawning above him like a huge black shroud, dotted here and there with tiny lights like distant, white torches and dominated by a blindingly bright white orb.  Our hero's mind struggles to comprehend so much open space.  Below him, stony cliffs ramble down towards a mass of dark shapes he thinks might be vegetation.

'First time topside?'  One of the gnolls asks.  'You get used to it.  Name's Wrask.'

'Kraashgar.'  Our hero struggles not to retch with the hideous emptiness of the place, the obscenity of so much space.

The raiding party descend steep stone steps.  Arrow slits carved in the walls look down upon the path.  Cold wind blows against the cliffs, bringing with it a spray of liquid.  The droplets of huge stalactites, perhaps, hung high up in the sky?  The troglodyte, an adept named Xug, grumbles about 'rain.'

The trek down the mountainside continues, Zetch and his Umber Hulk, Mr. Pincer, leading the way.  They pass massive stone statues of dwarven warlords, eroded by time and weather, as featureless and deformed as figures of melting wax.  Distant thunder makes Kraashgar's heart pound.  As they round a craggy corner Kraashgar notices a series of strange holes in the cliff above them: black, square openings of regular shape, around which he perceives a number of intricate runes.

'Quiet here,' Wrask growls.  'Those are crypts, where the old dwarf hill-tribes used to bury their dead, long before the Gearhead Clan built their stronghold in the mountain; they were defiled, long ago, and sometimes '" oh crap.'  The gnoll bristles and looks upwards.  Kraashgar follows his gaze up the cliff: something is creeping from one of the crypts, scuttling out on all fours, spider-like and agile.  Its posture is hunched and bent, and the creature looks small and somewhat frail.

There is a sudden scratching noise right above, as of long nails clawing at stone, and Kraashgar is horrified to see a pair of gaunt, pallid arms emerge from a lower opening, followed closely by a bald, shaggy-bearded head and an emaciated torso.  He can see mottled, necrotic flesh drawn tightly over clearly visible bones; the creature is squat and stocky, hunched, draped in a tattered funerary shroud that flaps in the wind like an aura of black flame.  A pair of hellish red eyes peer out from sunken sockets as a low hissing sound fills the air.  Kraashgar barely has time to ready his morningstar when the creature leaps down, baring its fangs!

'Ghouls!'  Zetch shrieks, as more of the undead abominations issue forth from the orifices in the cliff-face.  One particularly malignant-looking creature leaps atop Mr. Pincer; a vile stench, as of putrid carrion, assails Kraashgar, who gags and vomits noisily, even as the nearest ghoul advances!

The combat is swift and deadly.  Kraashgar swings his weapon but in his shaken, nauseated state his fighting skills are impaired: he misses widely, even as the creature scrabbles at his studded leathers and gnashes its teeth.  It closes its jaws on his arm and bites, drawing blood; Kraashgar fights off a fresh wave of sickness, as a crippling numbness begins to spread up his arm.  He grits his teeth and batters at the creature till it releases him, then makes another swipe; this time the force of his swing and the dizziness gripping his brain make him overbalance, and he stumbles backwards, off the cliff altogether!

Our hero scrambles madly at the edge of the precipice, trying to get a grip, but he can feel himself slipping.  Suddenly a hairy paw seizes his forearm '" the gnoll Wrask!  His companion is laughing with battle-fever, tongue lolling, axe spattered with ghoul-blood; he swings Kraashgar up easily, and the goblin nearly collides with the ghoul he'd been fighting.  Back to back with Wrask he attack again, dodging the ghoul's claws and brining his morningstar down on the creature's head, shattering bone and spraying gray-matter into the wind.

The ghoul hisses and presses its attack, unperturbed.  Wrask, having slain his own ghoul, turns and lands an axe-blow on Kraashgar's opponent, nearly felling the creature; Kraashgar, fighting through his nausea, grips his weapon with both hands and brings down the spiked head of the mornigstar on the ghoul, again and again, before kicking and smashing the undead's pulverized corpse off the cliff and into the rainy darkness below.

He breathes heavily and looks up to the rest of the fight, catching a glimpse of Mr. Pincer picking up the ghast and hurling it, screaming, over the edge.  His first hour in the Overworld and already something tried to eat him '" fantastic.[/ic] [ooc]Also updated the Dramatis Personae at the beginning.[/ooc]

Love the description of the surface world from a goblin's point of view!

[ic=Episode 21: Through the Woods]The path winds down the mountainside into the depths of the eerie green-black mass that Zetch terms a forest; the raiders, healed by the troglodyte adept Xug, push on into the verdurous depths with unshaken purpose.  Twisted boughs like gnarled, slender limbs intertwine above the path, blotting out the moonlight, making the path into a sort of tunnel.  Kraashgar finds the forest comfortable, almost like being back underground, but it is still a strange, alienating place.  His agoraphobia has faded, but odd scents assail the goblin's nostrils, issuing forth from garishly coloured blooms or strange toadstools unlike anything he's seen in the Great Below.  The exotic arboreal perfume makes Kraashgar a little drowsy.

'Don't drop your guard,' Zetch says in a low voice, addressing the group, who now troop single-file down the narrow, viridescent path, deeper into the dense green darkness so utterly unlike the pitch black of the underworld.  'There are predators here, and fey, and a tribe of forest gnomes'¦ keep your eyes peeled.'

They continue, swallowed by the wood.  Kraashgar assumes a position between the two gnolls of the party; Zetch and Mr. Pincer lead, the Umber Hulk and its Neogi master almost brushing against the canopy overhead; Xug and the orc bring up the rear.  The raiding group cross small streams and turn down trails that meander through the morass, labyrinthine, some of them so narrow that Kraashgar can barely see them, even with Darkvision.  Mr. Pincer, though surprisingly quiet for an Umber Hulk, leaves a flattened swathe of undergrowth wherever he treads.  Knotholes peer like black eyes from the trees, and skittering sounds surround them.

Suddenly there is a swift whizzing sound and a strangled cry from the rear of the group.  Our hero turns, and sees the orc rear-guard fall forwards, a crossbow bolt protruding through his neck, two more feathering his back!  The raiders draw their weapons but the gnomes are already upon them, emerging out of the foliage from impossibly well-concealed hiding places, brandishing short blades and wicked crossbows!

In the narrow confines of the forest the combat becomes utter chaos.  Kraashgar almost immediately takes a crossbow bolt to the upper chest, nearly felling the goblin warrior.  He snarls and leaps forward, cursing in his native tongue, swinging his morningstar like a diminutive battle-god!  He flails at he nearest gnome, who squeaks and dodges backwards, trying to reload her crossbow, but our hero manages to land a blow and smash the forest gnome's skull with a sickly crunching sound.  Zetch has enslaved one of the other gnomes, which fights its fellows before being stabbed to death; Wrask and the other gnoll make short work of two other gnomes, and the remainder of the attackers retreat into the forest, immediately concealed by the nigh-impenetrable underbrush.

Kraashgar grunts and rips free the quarrel from his chest in a spurt of blood, then checks the gnome's body.  He finds a small sum of gold '" nearly doubling his current trove, which has dwindled recently, after purchases in Ool-Nacha and losses at the gambling table in the Lair '" and straps on the gnome's light crossbow and bolt-case.  He also finds a small glass vial, filled with some sort of elixir, which Xug quickly identifies as a healing potion of some sort; Kraashgar downs the bitter concoction and watches his bolt-wound close up and scar almost instantly.

'Damn half-pint tree-lovers,' Wrask growls.

'Let's hurry,' Zetch whinges.  'We've been delayed too long.  We'll have to move fast if we want to catch the caravan before sunup.'[/ic] [ooc]I know there've been quite a few fights the last couple sessions, which is kind of unusual for the campaign; for one I wanted to give the player a chance to be part of a party, but this specific encounter had the purpose of equipping him with a ranged weapon, which was very useful in the upcoming firefight with the Gearheads.[/ooc]

look at those flowers.  SP, wow.  

[ooc]Thanks!  I owe Aubrey Beardsley for those.  I want the Overworld to have an intensely exotic feel to it, much as the Underdark usually feels in standard DnD.  The idea is to keep the subterannean world very familiar and banal while making the surface frightening and strange, invert the usual binary as much as possible.[/ooc]

I wish you were my DM... that is all I have to say about that...

[ooc]High praise indeed!  Thank you.[/ooc]

[ic=Episode 22: Firefight]The skirmish with the forest gnomes resolved, the raiding party continue to thread their way through the unsettling green corridors of the forest.  They encounter no other creatures save a spooked owlbear that lopes across their path, turns its head round and hoots twice, then disappears into the wood.  Truly the Overworld is an odd place, Kraashgar thinks, if such abominable creatures make their home upon its barren, vulnerable surface.

After some time Zetch and Mr. Pincer lead the raiders out of the forest and onto the open plains-country below.  The crippling agoraphobia that had so shaken Kraashgar before returns in the face of such ghastly openness, such terrifyingly boundless hugeness, but the goblin suppresses his fear, gulps, and hurries onwards to keep up with his party.  The country is covered in tall, blade-like plants and scattered with copses of the unlikely plants Kraashgar recognizes now as trees.  The moon glares down, hideous and inescapable, like the visage of some watching demon.  A light drizzle of rain spits upon our hero and his comrades.

Zetch gestures with a thin, chitinous limb down the gentle slope of the plains towards a sinuous line '" a surface road.

'That's where the caravan'll pass through,' the Neogi tells them quietly.  'We'll find some cover and set our ambush.'

They make their way towards the road, using as much stealth as they can muster, eventually finding a cluster of trees that overlooks one edge of the road.  Some boulders that might be rubble and a few vandalized statues, mossy and mutilated, also stand here; Kraashgar takes up a position behind one, not far from the Umber Hulk and Neogi raid-captain, while the gnolls and Xug move into their own positions behind trees, directed by Zetch.

Time passes, indeterminate.  The sky begins to almost imperceptibly lighten, as if some huge and terrible flame were moving towards them.

At last the clop of hooves and the grind of wheels become audible, and the caravan appears out of the dwindling night.  Three wagons, packed with kegs and crates, plod down the road, drawn by strange beasts the like of which Kraashgar has never seen, long-necked and shaggy-maned things with glinting hooves and dense, muscular bodies.  Already the goblin can make out the dwarven guards, perched atop the wagons or on mounts of their own, making their way towards them.

Zetch signals for complete silence.  Kraashgar's heart thuds loudly in his ears: surely it will give him away?  He can feel cold sweat on his brow, as he tries to quiet his breathing.  He checks his newly acquired light crossbow, carefully reloaded and wound, ready to fire.

The caravan rolls past the copse of trees.  Embers glow from the dwarves, the soft lights of cigars.  Zetch holds the attack till the last possible moment '" and then the ambush begins.

Our hero has the honour of the first shot, a crossbow bolt that takes one of the dwarven guards in the back.  His war-pony neighs and bucks as the rider swears and urns, leveling a squat pistol at Kraashgar and firing with a blaze of fire and pungent smoke.  The dwarf's bullet whizzes past and into the darkness, even as the rest of the combatants appear from their hiding places and enter the fray.

Everything seems to happen at once.  Kraashgar reloads, fires, reloads again, drops his target with a second bolt between the eyes.  He hears an ugly shattering sound as one of the gnolls' heads is blown into wet, pulpy mush, like a rotten fruit.  Mr. Pincer has jumped atop one of the wagons and is tearing apart Gearhead clansmen, interrupting their cleric's spells while bullets whine off his thick, organic armour, Zetch struggling to keep hold, enslaving dwarves with his mind-powers and sending them like suicidal wind-up toys against their own comrades

Three dwarves rush out of the darkness with warhammers and battleaxes and blunderbusses, firing and hollering in their accursed tongue, straight towards our hero.  Kraashgar slings his crossbow over his shoulder and reaches for his morningstar, then charges towards them, yelling his own battle-cry, filled with a sudden lunatic courage.  Through luck or perhaps fate he lands the first blow, felling one of the dwarves with a lucky strike.  He dodges aside as the second swings his warhammer while blocking the goblin's blows with his shield.  Kraashgar ducks beneath a low swing and lands a strike on the dwarf's torso.  This close he can discern the creatures properly: pallid, bearded things, some with bodies partially sheathed or integrated with hissing, steam-powered machines.  True monsters!

For a moment it looks like Kraashgar will be outmatched, but Mr. Pincer suddenly appears, leaping from a wagon and thundering into the two dwarves, crushing one with a meaty fist and seizing the other, which Zetch disarms handily.  Only a few of the guards remain.  Xug is casting a spell, Wrask '" still alive, but wounded '" is fending off a gore-spattered clansman and a mounted dwarf with a heavy firearm is circling around on his pony, taking aim.  Kraashgar snarls and backs away, reaching again for his crossbow, but the dwarf marksman ahs already fired.  He misses the goblin '" but hits one of the wagons.  There is a blaze of orange light and Kraashgar is thrown off his feet, lapsing into unconsciousness![/ic][ooc]Man did I have fun drawing this one.  A dwarven Spider Jerusalem (http://cardboardmonocle.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2006/10/boweldisruptor%20copy.jpg)!

I'm starting to get an idea of the grand shape of the campaign... no spoilers (the player reads the thread), but its going to be wheels-within-wheels, plans within plans.  I see two great houses... heheh.[/ooc]

So how are you handling keeping the player from becoming bored that a lot of the fighting is being done by powerful companions? I am glad to see that you have kept his interest by focusing on small side battles in which the goblin can be involved- but the goblin often seems to be striding the line of death and sometimes seems to need his more powerful allies to bail him out.

I like reading this and the pictures are excellent, but the goblin seems more like a "cog" and less like a hero. I think that is what you are going for- the ironic term of "our hero" rather than the Joe Wood "heroic" type, but just wanted to mention my impression of how things were developing.

[ooc]I want him, ideally, to straddle the gap between cog and hero.  "Our hero" is definitely used with a heavy dose of irony.

In the overworld stuff so far, I admit he's been more than a little out of his league.  I've been trying to keep the battles with him small with enough companions around to bail him out as need be.  This is partly to give him a sense of being part of a team (notably lacking in many of the earlier episodes), partly to allow him to face some more serious foes (I'd hesitate sicking a ghoul on him without anyone around to help), and partly emphasizes that to someone from the Underdark, the surface world can be a very dangerous place.  I admit that the overworld has been a bit of a slog, though.

I do eventually want to place him in more positions where he can make a real difference.  I thought the crushing trap was, in some ways, a good example of this.  Because of the player's actions (resetting the traps, which took a long time and more than a little bit of logic, ingenuity, navigation, and general roleplaying, some of which I ommitted from the writeups for space; in any case, it took a lot more work than just pulling a lever), an uber 10th level adventurer got smushed.  One of my reasons for letting the player control the half-orc, Tul, for one episode was to remind him of how ridiculously powerful an adventuring party can be in one sense, and simultaneously how ridiculously powerful Kraashgar can be with the right combination of smarts, dilligence, and stealth, in a totally different sense.

Thanks for the comment, made me think.  I don't want the campaign to become a passenger ride![/ooc]

The crushing trap was good, and I like your full explanation of Kraashgar's empowerment.

I am glad you did not think my comment was too critical- I confronted the same issue several times in my games; I like to put the characters in a harsh 'real world' but don't particularly want to kill them. It is a tough line to straddle.

[ic=Episode 23: Kidnapped!]Kraashgar awakes, singed but without pain, with Xug the trog adept still standing over him, the glow of a healing spell lingering about the creature's scaly fingers.

'Nearly lost you, man,' Wrask says, laughing.

The group stands just outside the smoking remains of the caravan.  Fire has spread from one of the wagons to the nearby trees, smoke issuing upwards in clots, flames lapping at the sky, incandescent, reducing the figures of Zetch, Mr. Pincer, Wrask, Xug, Kraashgar, and the ponies to small black shapes.

'Aright, hurry up and take what you can from this wreck,' the Neogi orders, directing its Umber Hulk to start dragging kegs of blackpowder from the debris.

The raiders are swift.  They detonate the remaining barrels when they are finished, sparking two more huge fireballs.  When the party slips back into the woods, the evil yellow of pre-dawn light growing behind them, Mr. Pincer is carrying a keg of blackpowder under each arm, while Zetch totes pistols; Xug and Wrask carry kegs and more weapons, and lead two of the war-ponies through the forest paths, one of which the dwarf hostage is tied to.  Kraashgar carries a small pistol, bullets, powder, and a round bomb, plus a dwarven waraxe; he, too, leads a war-pony along the trails, laden with weapons and ammunition and bucking periodically, still spooked by the explosions an the unfamiliar smell of its new masters.

Kraashgar is following Mr. Pincer through the woods when he feels the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and raise.  He turns, perceiving a low, dark shape, and hears a sudden growling sound; he has grabbed his pistol and is about to alert the others when the undergrowth explodes as something large and hairy bursts onto the trail!  It is a wolf-like creature, with eerie red eyes and shadowy fur.

Kraashgar snarls, aims, and pulls the trigger of his pistol.  There is a huge boom and the goblin is knocked backwards by the recoil, but he hears a whimper '" he has hit the wolf!  More shots ring out as his companions try to hit the beast, but they ricochet off trees and into the forest.  The wolf, startled and bleeding, plows into one of the war-ponies, the one with the dwarf strapped to its back, and the three go down in a flail of limbs, tripping up Wrask the gnoll.  In the ensuing chaos the wolf manages to rip the dwarf free from the war pony and drags him savagely into the undergrowth, the bearded thing cursing in dwarven under his gag.  Zetch desperately tries to turn Mr. Pincer around, but in the cramped space the Umber Hulk has difficulty maneuvering.

Kraashgar, the least dazed of the group, is hurriedly trying to reload his complicated pistol, but the wolf is gone.

'Everyone okay?'  Zetch asks.  'Godsdamn wolf!  Odd to see one solitary '" they're usually pack hunters.  Anyway, we need that Gearhead.  Obraxus'll flay us alive if we don't get him back.  Wrask, you have a good nose, right?'

'Heh, yeah,' the gnoll smirks.

'Alright, let's track this thing.  Come on.'

The party heads into the wood.  They follow the smell of blood '" Kraashgar's bullet has wounded the wolf badly, and drops of the stuff spatter the forest floor intermittingly.

Wrask leads them to a large mound of earth with a huge oak atop it.  A small hole is evident at its base.

'He's in there,' the gnoll growls.  'The dwarf, too.'

'Wolf-den,' Zetch proclaims.  'Mr. Pincer could burrow through, but it might collapse the whole place.  Kraashgar, you're up.'

Grumbling, our hero gets on his hands and knees and squeezes himself into the hole, tumbling into a low, dark chamber with roots protruding from the ceiling.  It reeks of fur and death; a little ways on, the goblin finds some small, pallid bones and rusting bits and pieces that look like they might once have belonged to forest gnomes.  He hears a mumbling sound from a small side-tunnel and half crawls, half walks to its location '" a rough, shallow chamber of sorts, in which the Gearhead dwarf has been unceremoniously dumped.  Using his goblinoid stealth Kraashgar creeps forwards, intent on retrieving the hostage.  He sees a sudden fear in the dwarf's eyes as they flicker behind him and he spins, groping for a weapon.

Two red eyes glare down on him out of the gloom.  Yellow fangs; black fur; a long, canine snout.  And then a voice, in Goblin of all languages:

'A goblin, is it?  Foolish to enter a worg's den uninvited.'

Kraashgar is silent.  He readies his morningstar.  The worg chuckles.

'Don't make me laugh.  I could tear you a part in an instant, you wretch.  What is your name, little goblin?'

'Kraashgar.'

'Mine is Svaroch.  You have come for your friend there, I take it?'

'No friend, but yes, why else would I be here?'

'Explain to me why I shouldn't devour you on the spot!'

'Come and try!'  Kraashgar senses that Svaroch is bluffing, partially.  If the worg was so intent on killing him, it would have done so without talking; and, despite its threats, he can see that it fears him.  The bullet-wound he gave it still seeps blood.

Svaroch growls, and for a moment it looks as if the two will fight, down amongst the roots, but the wolf-thing speaks again.

'What would you say to a trade?'

'What kind of trade?'  Kraashgar is wary.

'There is a huntsman, who lives on the eastern edge of the forest.  He murdered my pack, my mate, my young: a foul and sadistic human.  I will keep the dwarf alive if you bring me this man's corpse.'

'Very well.  The dwarf must be unharmed and whole when we get back!'

'Fine,' Svaroch grudgingly assents.

Kraashgar worms his way out of the den; the worg watches him as he leaves, sizing him up, pacing.[/ic]

Have you considered linking to this post at wizards and the Giant's forums? You could probably drum up some more readership.

I like how the dwarf was snatched from their grasp- fairly inventive and much better than kidnapping the main character (which is what I feared would happen.)

Quote from: Light DragonHave you considered linking to this post at wizards and the Giant's forums? You could probably drum up some more readership.

I like how the dwarf was snatched from their grasp- fairly inventive and much better than kidnapping the main character (which is what I feared would happen.)

I agree... this is too awesome not to put out there.

[ooc]I've actually been posting this on Wizards too, and updating it (close to the same format - it doesn't have the nice Dramatic Personae at the beginning because the Wizards forums don't allow more than 22 images in a single post).  I've actually got more responses here - probably because I spend much more tiem on this site, and I'm not well known at all over at Wizards.

Not familiar with the Giants forums, I'll look into them, though, thanks!  And glad you liked the kidnapping plot, Light Dragon - you inspired it with your comment earlier.  I felt Kraashgar was getting luggage-y so I decided it was time for him to do something only he could do, and that meant small spaces (and speaking in Goblin).  The dwarf was my only available mcguffin.  Originally it was going to be a krenshar ambush where he'd have to sneak past a pack of them but I've been having too many fights, and wanted something the player could roleplay with that wasn't a teammate/superior( plus I was reading the old MM and saw that worgs are particularly well-known for attacking just before daybreak).  Chalsezce has been the only other instance of that kind of relationship in the last few episodes, I think...

These (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/) forums?[/ooc]

Ah yes, those are the forums I was thinking of.

And oh, you are posting the story in full at Wizards- that is probably a better idea than what I was thinking; I was thinking you could save time by just posting a post that said "I'm writing a Joe Wood Style adventure here" and print out a small excerpt to entice readers, then maybe once a month mention that you have updated- or leave the thread for comments; or you could post the story but saying that "if you want to see the pictures, go here," it would save you some time and perhaps attract 3 or 4 new people to the CBG. I believe that GiTP etiquette allows that in the Arts/Crafts section or the Webcomics section of the site. I am not sure what Wizards' etiquette is.

--
I hope the player appreciated the change of pace. You were remarkably inventive with the tools you had! I am honored that my comments inspired something. And I am impressed by the level of detail you go into when setting up your games (determining which sort of creatures only attack at dawn.)

[ooc]Well, like I said, originally it was going to be krenshars (who have no particular attack patterns as written); I just basically stumbled onto teh bit about the worg's dawn proclivities.  But thank you, it was one of my more resourceful moments...[/ooc]

[ic=Episode 24: Vengeance]The raiding party are crouched about the huntsman's shack, splayed in tactical positions: Zetch and Mr. Pincer some ways from the clearing, guarding the ponies, the beasts surprisingly calm in the presence of the enormous ape-insect and its spidery puppetmaster; Xug the trog at one window, Wrask at the (locked) front door, Kraashgar at the second window.  Our hero emerged from the worg Svaroch's den having agreed to deliver the murderer of the creature's family in exchange for a dwarf hostage.  He thought, absently, of threatening to lob in the bomb he looted from the Gearhead caravan, but the detonation would endanger the dwarf: the threat would be hollow, and Svaroch would be intelligent enough to know it.

Thus they stand poised.  The cabin is small and squat, built of logs.  A thin trickle of smoke rises from the chimney.  A stump nearby had a large axe lodged in it: Kraashgar threw this into the woods.

The team agreed that he would be the ideal assassin, as the smallest and quietest of the five.  The window shutters are partially open; Kraashgar can reach through them.  Our hero unlatches the window and clambers inside, quietly as he can.  Idiot.  Why bother locking your front door if you're going to leave your window open?

Inside, the shack is adorned with worg-pelts and the hides of other animals.  A large crossbow leans next to the smoldering fireplace, with bolts quarrels hung on pegs above and around it.  A man slumbers in a cot in the corner, unshaven and grizzled-looking, snoring under another worg-pelt.

Kraashgar unsheathes his bone knife and creeps towards the sleeping huntsman, draped in the skins of Svaroch's kin.  Red dawn light filters into the room, as if anticipating the bloodshed to come.  Our hero places the knife against the human's stubbled throat, then stabs it in and wrenches hard.  There is a huge spray of arterial blood; the huntsman's eyes flicker open and he emits a choked cry.  Too much neck-fat!  Gotta really get this thing in there!

The man tries to batter the goblin off, but Kraashgar is relentless.  He twists the blade, removes it, stabs again, and again, till the human's arms go limp.  Kraashgar wipes the blade on the pelts.

Ugh.  Dead human.

The room smells of sweat and slaughter.   Kraashgar drags the huntsman out towards the door, pulling him out from under the pelts.  He wrinkles his nose in distaste: dead naked human.

No way to pull him through the window.  Kraashgar searches for a key, finds a leather purse and pockets its contents, including a small sum of gold.  He opens the door and drags the hefty, nude cadaver out into the forest.

'Bastard's nearly as hairy as I am!'  Wrask jokes.  The raiders regroup, head back towards the den.

Kraashgar drags the body down into Svaroch's lair.  The corpse is too big: he has to strain to pull it through, tugging on the man's hairy ankles.  When he turns around the worg is there, sitting on its haunches and watching him with beady red eyes, the Gearhead dwarf behind him, still bound.

'This is the guy, right?'  Kraashgar gestures to the dead huntsman.

'That's him,' Svaroch growls.  'I will feast on his flesh.'

'Well, a dish best served cold, or whatever.'

'Thank you, goblin.  Kraashgar.'

'Just doing my job.'

Our hero approaches the dwarf.  The Gearhead's eyes widen behind his goggles and he begins to flail, until Kraashgar puts a pistol to his temple and marches him out through the burrow; the dwarf has trouble squeezing his bulk through the opening.  Kraashgar hears messy chewing sounds as he exits the den, and doesn't look back.

The rest of the journey back to the Lair is uneventful.  The dawn sun is still sliver on the horizon when they return just in time to be spared the bright horrors of a surface day.

Inside, they are swiftly debriefed by Obraxus and Caustic, and their spoils taken to the armoury; Kraashgar is permitted to keep the pistol and bomb, though he gives up the waraxe and the light crossbow.

'Take the prisoner down to the cell-blocks, Kraashgar,' Caustic commands.  'We'll deal with him later.'

Our hero leads the dwarf down to level two, to the cell-blocks that precede the Gray Slaad Thollom's laboratory.  He shoves the dwarf into one of the empty cells and removes his gag; the dwarf begins to spit Dwarven curses, which Kraashgar ignores.

'I've been through a lot of crap to get you here,' Kraashgar says, drawing his bone dagger again, still flecked with the huntsman's blood.  'Nearly been killed three times, had to face down a worg that could have eaten me alive if I said the wrong thing, and got stinking human blood all over me.'

He approaches with the dagger.

'Ye gonna kill me, greenskin filth?'  The dwarf speaks in heavily accented Undercommon.  'Yer boss won't be too pleased bout that!'

'I'm not going to kill you,' Kraashgar tells him, smiling.

'I'm going to shave you.'[/ic]

Quote from: Steerpike'I'm not going to kill you,' Kraashgar tells him, smiling.

'I'm going to shave you.'

Did the player come up with that? Because that's brilliant.

[ooc]Kraashgar's dialogue is all the player's; I try to scribble down memorable lines.  If I can't remember exactly what he said i write the jist of it, but I don't fabricate.

And yeah its a fantastic line... I think the player has the right sense of humor for the role.[/ooc]

[ic=Episode 25: Who You Gonna Call?]After a meal and a rest, Kraashgar awakens and reports to Caustic in the map room; Obraxus is absent but the trog Morkoth is evident, talking quietly with the drow.  Here he is paid his first wages (two gold pieces) before receiving his newest assignment.

'We've got a spirit of some sort harassing denizens on level two, mostly messing about in the mess hall,' Caustic says, without looking up from the arcane map that dominates the chamber.  'I want you to get rid of it.  It can enter the Ethereal, so you'll need to borrow Thollom's Goggles of True Seeing.'

'Yes ma'a '" sir.'

Our hero shuffles out and heads up a level to Thollom's laboratory.  On his way he passes through the dungeon's cell block.  Brogg, the Gearhead hostage, begins to curse loudly in Dwarven as Kraashgar walks by, straining to reach the goblin with his arms.  Half of the dwarf's impressive beard has been shaved, and his eyebrows to boot; with half a beard he looks, if anything, more ridiculous than if he'd been fully shorn.  Kraashgar chuckles and heads into the mass of eldritch machinery that comprises the Gray Slaad's lair.

He picks his way over what look like scales as he searches for the spellcaster, eventually finding the creature hunched over an experiment, some odd fleshly thing strapped to a slab-like table.  The grig Kraashgar captured earlier is evident in a tube, suspended in green liquid, and the strange, blue lizard creature '" Thollom's familiar '" crouches in a corner, gnawing at an oddly shaped bone.

'Ah, Kraashgar was it?'  Thollom grins toothily.  'Not dead yet, I see.  Need something recharged?'

'Actually, I need to borrow those goggles again.  Caustic has me on exorcism duty.'

'Aha.  Well.  Those goggles are, ahem, quite delicate, you know, and'¦'

'Yeah yeah, quid pro quo or whatever.  What is it this time?'

'Well,' the Gray Slaad says, looking up from his experiment.  'Actually, I'm working on something quite new, and exciting, but I'm short on, ahem, parts.  I need you to go gather some for me.'

'What kind of parts?'

'Limbs, organs, tissues, that sort of thing.'  Thollom picks up a large birdcage and hands it to the goblin.  'Go to the crypts on the second level.  You know, beyond the broken doors?  You'll find a number of dwarven zombies there, contained by some wards Obraxus engraved, when he first moved into the stronghold.'  The Slaad fumbles in his robes and extracts a wand.  'Aim the wand at the zombies and press the button on the side.  It'll emit a spell-beam that will shrink the zombies down to size; then, capture four of them in the cage, and bring them here.'

'Alright.'  Kraashgar sighs in resignation and accepts the equipment, heading to the second level crypts.

He pauses in front of the shattered doors that lead down to the crypts; he's passed by them before, but never ventured beyond.  Tentatively he steps inside, over the meticulously inscribed glyphs that ward the crypt.  He heads down a flight of hewn stone steps, brushing aside cobwebs. He leaves footprints in the thick dust.

It is cold down in the crypts; Kraashgar shivers.  A sound that could be breath or wind whistling through ventilation shafts emanates from the darkness.  Kraashgar presses onwards, stealthy, wand clutched in one hand, cage in the other.  He comes to a bifurcation and selects the left-hand path, descending another flight of steps, deeper into the tomb.

He makes his way down a short passage and peers round a corner into a chamber beyond; a dwarf, cadaverous and putrid-smelling, shambles about the room slowly, shuffling in rotting boots, mail rusting, beard tangled and matted.  Two sarcophagi dominate the room.

Kraashgar enters and aims the wand, firing directly at the zombie.  A blaze of arcane light surrounds the zombie and the undead shrinks rapidly.  The creature's moans become higher pitched and dwarf zombie scuttles behind a sarcophagus.  Kraashgar scrambles around the sarcophagus, opening the cage.  The zombie hisses and lurches forward, grasping our hero's ankle.  It sinks its tiny teeth into his leg, drawing blood.  Kraashgar shrieks and grips the zombie round its torso, then hurls it into the cage, slamming shut the door.

He looks up.  Two more of the creatures have appeared, moaning, arms extended.  Rinse and repeat.

Kraashgar heaves off one of the sarcophagus covers.  Why bother with zombies?  Why not just bring back a corpse?  He zaps the well-preserved dwarf inside, wrapped in cerements, clutching a warhammer and garbed in mail, but when he deposits the body in the cage the other zombies swarm it and quickly devour it.

He investigates some of the surrounding chambers, discovering a desecrated crypt with a defiled sarcophagus, whose inhabitant's warhammer and helmet are missing.  He finds a final zombie and hastens back to Thollom's lab.

'Very nice specimens!'  Thollom proclaims, inspecting the still-reduced cage occupants.  'I'll take back that wand; here are the goggles.'  He hands them over.  'In fact'¦ well, Yoggshabboth needs a walk.  Yoggy?  Yoggy, come!'

The blue lizard suddenly materializes, as if out of thin air.  Thollom bends down and strokes his familiar's head.  Kraashgar notices that the Slaad is shedding scales from his clawed hand.

'Yoggy here is an Ethereal Marauder; he can jump into the Ether, and smell into it too.  He can help you track down this spirit.  Go, Yoggy!  Walkies!'[/ic] [ooc]Also - here's the player's excellent illustration:  [/ooc]

[ic=Episode 26: Something Strange]Alright.  Time to find this spook and get rid of it.

Kraashgar heads down from Thollom's laboratory towards the mess hall and kitchens, the Ethereal Marauder Yoggshabboth '" Yoggy '" padding behind and making weird, high-pitched whining sounds.  They pass through the deserted dining area and into the kitchens.

An obese orc seems to be the cook: jowly and rotund, with a grease-stained apron and beady red eyes.  He stirs a simmering pot and pays Kraashgar and Yoggy little attention.

Kraashgar straps on the Goggles of True Seeing.  Through the tinted lenses he can now make out a strange, slimy substance on the floor and on some of the rusty kitchen implements '" ectoplasm!  Yoggy begins to whine and paw at Kraashgar; our hero dips his fingers in the goo (feeling only a slight sensation of cold) and puts them near the beast's head.  The Marauder sniffs the gelatinous ichor and warbles enthusiastically, then puts its head to the ground and begins to sniff.  Kraashgar follows Yoggy through the large kitchen, around counters and cauldrons, to the cellar door.  Yoggy flickers into the Ethereal without a second thought and steps through the door; the creature looks grey and insubstantial, but Kraahsgar can see it the goggles.  He opens the door and follows it through.

A flight of steps lead down into the cellar.  Yoggy is tracking the ghost, sniffing about barrels and kegs.  Suddenly it stops, then begins pawing and scrabbling at a large keg of ale.  Kraashgar steps closer, and the bung-hole for the ale shoots off, hitting him in the forehead!  Grog gushes out of the barrel in a jet of forthy liquid, followed closely by an incorporeal, gruff-looking dwarf, dressed in mail and gibbering in Dwarven with an eerie, unearthly voice.  The ghost snarls and shoots up through the ceiling, followed closely by Yoggy.

Drenched in grog, Kraashgar struggles to replace the cork and manages, with an effort, to stopper the flow.  Dripping and reeking of alcohol he heads back upstairs to the kitchen, then ducks as several silvery objects flit through the air towards him!  One grazes his ear, drawing blood; he looks back and sees no fewer than five kitchen knives, quivering in the cellar door, one of the flecked with goblin blood!

The dwarven spirit is running amok, Yoggy blinking in and out of the Ether and scrambling after it giddily.  It utters a blood-curdling scream that makes Kraashgar break out into gooseflesh, but he holds his ground.

The orc cook looks up, startled by the scream '" and then the ghost flies straight into his chest.  Yoggy, still whining madly, runs up to the orc and begins to snap at him.

'No, Yoggy!'  Kraashgar yells.  'Down!  Bad'¦ thing!'  His chiding has no effect; the Marauder continues to molest the orc.

The cook yelps and seizes a nearby cleaver from a chopping block.  Kraashgar shouts a protest but it is too late '" the orc is already bringing the cleaver down towards the beast mauling his thigh.  Just as he is about to connect Yoggy flickers into the Ethereal again, and the orc chops his own leg, screaming in pain!

Kraashgar seizes a now-material Yoggy and tries to pull it back, but the beast just switches back to the Ethereal.

A glazed expression passes over the orc's face.  He wrenches the cleaver from his leg, raises it, and looks towards Kraashgar, features contorting with rage!  The orc spits a Dwarven curse and the cleaver hurtles through the air; our hero dodges aside just in time and the weapon clatters to the ground.

All-Mother, he's possessed!

Now the cook has seized the steaming cauldron of stew by the handles, scalding his palms unthinkingly.  He hefts the cauldron and boiling liquid slops over the rim.

'Spirit!'  Kraashgar yells in Undercommon.  'Listen to me!  I want to help you!  I want to lay your soul to rest!'

Something in the goblin's voice must be persuasive '" or perhaps he just said the thing the ghost wanted to hear.  In any event, the orc replaces the cauldron over the flame, and the glazed look leaves his eyes.  The dwarf ghost drifts out of the humanoid's chest, looks at Kraashgar, and beckons before passing through the kitchen wall and out into the main hall.  Yoggy looks as if it will follow but Kraashgar commands it to 'Stay!' and this time the creature obliges.[/ic]

How are you coming up with all these names? It seems that there's some Lovecraftian alienism going on. When I saw Yoggshabboth I immediately thought it was a corruption of Yog-Sothoth...

In Episode 25 I really appreciated how you brought back images of the dwarf and the grig when the goblin visited the Sladd's residence.

Your player's drawing is also very nice- very vibrant and active... Whereas your illustrations are like classic 1970s/80s DnD, your player's illustrations are more like early 2000's 3d Edition.

[ooc][blockquote=Ghostman]How are you coming up with all these names? It seems that there's some Lovecraftian alienism going on. When I saw Yoggshabboth I immediately thought it was a corruption of Yog-Sothoth...[/blockquote]It's meant to be a sort of roundabout allusion to Yog and the Great Old Ones, yeah; combined with the dog-like aspects of Yoggy I thought it might be funny.  I generally pick brutish-sounding names for orcs (Grognash, Morbog), harsh, raspy-sounding ones for gnolls (Wrask), Nordic-sounding ones for dwarves (Brogg, Ulfgar), and generally "odd" sounding names for everyone else; surface dwellers get boring names that sound mundane to our ears (Kenneth).

[blockquote=Light Dragon]In Episode 25 I really appreciated how you brought back images of the dwarf and the grig when the goblin visited the Sladd's residence.

Your player's drawing is also very nice- very vibrant and active... Whereas your illustrations are like classic 1970s/80s DnD, your player's illustrations are more like early 2000's 3d Edition.[/blockquote]Yeah, his are much brighter, and tend to have more motion in them, whereas mine tend to be obsessively detailed and fairly dark.  I'm principally trying to imititate Mike Mignola's style, particularly images like this one (http://www.sparehed.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/08/panmignola.jpg), where faces and forms emerge from thick darkness, kind of a pulpy chiaroscuro effect, to be pretentious and artisy about it.  The players are much less angular, much more rounded and blended, with soft shadows and gentle shading.[/ooc]

[ic=Episode 27: Gather Information]Yoggy and Kraashgar leave the kitchen and walk out into the main hall; the dwarf's shade hovers amongst the vast, rune-etched pillars, mute and expectant.

'Go back to Thollom, Yoggy,' Kraashgar tells the Ethereal Marauder.  'Go on.'  The creature whimpers, then scuttles off towards the lab, blinking into the Etehreal to pass through doors and walls.

'Alright, ghost, what do I need to do to help you move on?'

The spirit is silent.  It tugs on its beard and then beckons again; our hero follows, resolute.

They head towards the broken doors and the old dwarven crypts, where Kraashgar captured the zombies for the Gray Slaad.  Kraashgar follows the dwarf into the gloom and cobwebs, shivering slightly as he treads over the runic wards once again.

The shade leads him to the desecrated crypt and points to the skeleton within.  Kraashgar steps up to the sarcophagus and looks inside.

'My name was Ulfgar, in life,' the ghost says, speaking in Undercommon.  Its voice is otherworldly, full of sepulchral echoes.  'I was interred here with three things of great value '" my warhammer, Grumma; my helm; and a signet ring, bearing my clan's sigil, the gear.

'Another goblin '" one of your ilk '" ventured down here, to my grave, with other thieves.  They defiled my tomb and stole these three items.'  Ulfgar's ghost gnashes its teeth.  'The filthy greenskin!  Fitting, perhaps, that one of your kind would seek to lay my soul to rest, after your kindred disturbed me in the first place.'  It chuckles.  'Return the three things to my grave and replace the lid.'  Ulfgar nods to the sarcophagus seal.  'Then my soul will be at rest.

'Very well,' Kraashgar responds with uncharacteristic somberness.  He leaves the crypt hurriedly, before he stumbles upon any zombies.

Now to find the three items.  Ulfgar emphasized that the tomb-raider was goblinoid: that should narrow it down.

Kraashgar heads to some of the nearby guardrooms and then to the mess hall searching for another goblinoid minion.  He finds a goblin in the mess, quaffing a mug of fungus ale and playing cards with a troglodyte.  Kraashgar gets a tankard, ignoring the limping cook's dirty looks.  He recognizes this minion '" a creature named Skabrat, known to be an exorbitant gambler.  Kraashgar himself has lost coins to him.

'Skabrat,' Kraashgar says.  'Uh, you ever go down to the crypts?'

'Yeah, sure,' the goblin says casually, affecting nonchalance.  'Me and some other guys sneak in there sometimes after shifts.  There's not much down there, just some rusty old crap buried with the dwarves.  And zombies. Ugh.  Not worth it.'

'Right.  You ever bring anything back from these'¦ excursions?'

'Like I said, just some dusty stuff they were buried with.'

'A warhammer?'

'Sure, I think so.  Really heavy thing.'

'How about a ring?  Or a helm?'

'Yeah, probably.  Sounds familiar.  Why?'

'Long story.  Do you still have that stuff?'

'Nah, its all gone.  The warhammer I think I turned in to Kurlok.  The helm and the ring I lost gambling.'

'To who?'

'Gods, Kraashgar, I don't know.'

'Try and remember.'

Skabrat strains, looking up at the ceiling with his one remaining eye.  'Let me think.  I think some gnoll got the helm, buddy of Wrask's, and a drow guy got the ring.  Don't remember his name, elves all look the same to me, ya know?'

'Sure, whatever'¦ thanks, Skabrat.'

Kraashgar finishes his ale and heads to the armoury, in search of the kobold weaponmaster, Kurlok.  Eventually he finds the reptile taking inventory on the new cache of firearms he and the other raiders captured from the Gearhead caravan.

'Kurlok, you keep records of all the weapons that're signed out right?'

'Sure.  Look, I'm busy, so this had better be important.'

'Caustic's orders.  I need to check your records for anyone who signed out a dwaren warhammer.'

'Fine,' the kobold says, exasperated.  'Come on.'  He takes Kraashgar to a small chamber lined with shelves stacked with sheaves of vellum and begins rummaging through, humming through his teeth.  Eventually he turns up a tattered scrap of parchment.

'Looks like an orc named Morbog signed out a weapon like that awhile ago,' Kurlok says, squinting at the crabbed scrawl on the parchment.  'You'll have to talk to him.'

'Ugh.  This is getting complicated'¦'[/ic]

[ic=Episode 28: An Exorcism and a Game of Chess]Kraashgar finds the orc Morbog in the mess hall, dining with a couple of similarly burly denizens.  The orc is massive: huge and green, veins straining on his neck, face scarred and brutal-looking, with tusk-like teeth and fierce red eyes.  Our hero gulps and walks up to the orc.  He notices the creature's weapon: a massive warhammer, graven with Dwarven runes.

'You Morbog?'

The orc stands up, towering over Kraashgar.

'That's me.  What'd you want, pipsqueak?'

'I need your warhammer,' Kraashgar says, puffing up his chest a bit.  'Dungeon business.'

'Heh.  I'll give you a taste of it if you don't bugger off.'

'It's not your weapon, it's Obraxus'.'  Kraashgar stands his ground.

Morbog reaches down and takes Kraashgar by the throat, holding the goblin in front of his meaty, scarified face.  His breath reeks.

'Give me one good reason why I shouldn't squeeze your little head off right now and use your skull for a drinking goblet, you piece of wormshit.'

'You'll give me that warhammer,' Kraashgar gasps, his eyes bulging buggishly.  'Or Caustic will have your guts for garters.  I'm acting under her direct orders, you oaf.'

'What?'  Morbog drops the goblin to the ground.  'You didn't say that drow bitch was involved.  Fine, here.'  He holds out the warhammer.  'Take the damn thing.'

Kraashgar hefts the warhammer and leaves the mess hall amidst whispers and murmurs.  He thinks he hears the word 'balls.'

Grumma is too heavy to haul around, so Kraashgar heads back to the crypts with it. He places the warhammer over Ulfgar's skeletal corpse and the dwarf's ghost materializes.  'Not enough,' the spirit moans.  'The helm and the ring!  I need them as well.'

'I'm working on it, I'm working on it.'

He heads out, but as he turns, he sees that he has company.  A dwarf zombie and a skeleton lumber towards him, stumbling on decrepit limbs.  Kraashgar swears and bolts forwards, dodging around them and down the tomb's passages back towards the broken doors.  He finds another zombie lingering near the entrance, blocking the stairway up.

'Screw this.'  Our hero draws his pistol, aims, and blows the undead creature's head into gray smithereens.  He blows smoke from the barrel and holsters the flintlock.

Now the helm.

Kraashgar seeks out Wrask the gnoll, finding the creature on the third level, guarding the map room.

'How's it going, Kraashgar?' the gnoll asks, followed by his characteristic, incongruous chortle.

'Eh, it's okay.  I'm fixing a ghost problem on level two.  Say, do you know a gnoll who might have won a helm off Skabrat?'

'Yeah, I think so.  Dwarven thing, pointy horns?  That'd be Russkit.  He, uh, got killed by those Gearhads on the raid.'

'Damn.  I need that helmet'¦'

'Well, he didn't have it with him when he died.  Didn't fit; he just liked the thing.  I think he might have used it for a chamber pot, heheh.'

'You know where he bunked?'

'Yeah, the barracks on this level, second bunk on the left.'

'Thanks.  How bout a drow who might have won a ring off Skabrat?'

'Dunno about that one, but there aren't many drow here.  It's probably Szor; he's on guard duty down on level four.'

'Thanks again.'

Kraashgar seeks out the third level barracks and checks under the second bed on the left.  No sign of the helmet, but there's a chest at the foot of the bed '" locked.  Our hero performs a thorough search of the rest of the chamber but finds no sign of a key or the helmet.  He swears in frustration and clomps up the stairs back to level two in search of Skabrat.

The goblin is dicing with the kobold trapsmith, Skelus, when Kraashgar finds him.

'Hey, need your help, Skabrat.  You can handle a lock, right?'

'Sure.  What's in it for me?'

'Ugh.'  Kraashgar doesn't feel like intimidating the goblin.  Too much confrontation for one day; no sense in alienating everyone.  'A gold piece, okay?'  Half a week's wages, but then again Kraashgar's purse is heavy after the raid.

'Wow, okay, sure.  Come on, show me where this lock is.'

They head down to the barracks again and Skabrat jimmies the lock swiftly with a bone toothpick.  Inside is the helm '" and a bag of gems.  Kraashgar takes the helm and prepares to leave, but Skabrat seizes the gem-bag.

'Alright!  Bonus,' the little goblin exclaims.

'Come on, leave those alone,' Kraashgar says.

'No way!  The guy's dead, let's take them!'  Skabrat squeaks '" just as another pair of gnolls burst into the barracks.

'Oi!  What are you doin with those jools?'

'Uh'¦ nothing guys'¦'  Skabrat is sweating profusely.  Kraashgar slips away as the gnolls close in, already laughing.  Our hero waits for Skabrat in the corridor and a few moments later the goblin emerges, bruised and without the gems.  He limps grumpily away down the passage, ignoring Kraashgar's 'I told you so' expression.

Just the ring remaining.  Kraashgar heads down to the fourth level and searches the guard-rooms, stumbling into a room full of statues (courtesy of a former occupant, a medusa), and a room with a twisted-lookg tree before eventually finding a male drow and an ogre, playing chess at a round table.

'Hey, you Szor?'

'That's me,' the drow says snootily.  'What do you want, goblin'

'That ring of yours.  I need it to get rid of a ghost.  It used to belong to him, and now he's haunting level two.  Caustic's orders.'

'I see your predicament.  However, it's not my problem.  I won this ring fair and square, and I doubt Caustic would favor you over me.'

'I need that ring.'

'How about this: wait till I've finished this match, and then we play for the ring.'

'Alright.'

Kraashgar watches as Szor finishes off his ogre opponent handily.  The dark elf smiles and gestures for Kraashgar to join them at an empty stool.  The goblin seats himself and the drow explains the rules of the game.

'What will you wager?  That ring of your own?'

'No.  My pistol.  That should be valuable enough.'

'Very well.'

Predictably, Szor beats Kraashgar handily.  However, he quickly discovers that the pistol is unloaded '" Kraashgar emptied it when he shot the zombie back in the crypts.

'I'll play you again, for the ammunition.'

'Fine.'

The second match is a stalemate.  The third, Kraashgar wins '" he gets the ring.  They play a fourth and Kraashgar reclaims his pistol, again using the ammunition as stakes.

'Damn you and your underhanded tricks!'  Szor swears, overturning the chess-board.  He stomps off, nose in the air.  The ogre laughs resoundingly.

'That was impressive.  Haven't seen Szor so pissed in a long time, heheh.'

Kraashgar smiles and heads up to the crypt, to finish things.  He puts the helm back on Ulfgar's skull and slips the ring on his finger; the ghost manifests itself.

'Thank you, goblin.  I am'¦ at peace now.'  The dwarf squints.  'Perhaps my people have been unfair to your kind.  I might not have said so in life, but such prejudices seem to matter less now, somehow.  Good luck.'  The ghost fades, and is gone.

Kraashgar turns to head out.  He walks down the short passage into the main sanctum of the crypts '" and finds a room full of corporeal undead.

Crap.[/ic][ooc]We played out several of the chess matches.  The final match we resolved with an opposed Intelligence test (Kraashgar's Int 12 - the only attribute I raised from the goblin average, to allow him to speak two languages - and Szor's Int 13 meant they were evenly matched).

This plot has been the most improvised since the first few episodes, but I'm pretty happy with the way it turned out... Kraashgar leveled up (level three warrior now), took ranks in jump and chose the dodge feat during the session that comprised the last few episodes.

Also, the player read the bit below about what I'd have done if he hadn't won the matches and produced this:[spoiler][/spoiler][/ooc]

What do you think would have happened if Kraashgar had lost the matches?

[ooc]Possibly I would have improvised some sort of sub-quest for the drow in exchange for the ring (but maybe not the rest of his stuff).  Off the top of my head: steal something from a dungeon denizen, retrieve an item that fell through the illusory floor, arrange a date with Caustic.

Alternatively, Kraashgar could try to steal the ring, but he'd obviously be incriminated, which could lead to sticky situations.

Also:

[/ooc]

[ic=Episode 29: Meanwhile'¦]Alastor the tiefling, bounty hunter and assassin, crouches in the shadows of an alley in the town of Gloamwood, one hand on his blade as a member of the town militia passes by, swaggering drunkenly through pools of yellow light cast from an open alehouse door.  The planetouched lets out a breath as the man is swallowed by the night, then ventures out into the street.

A cloak covers his horns; his flesh has been tinted with an Alter Self spell.  He creeps with the utmost stealth towards the eastern edge of the town, pointed ears pricked for any sign of trouble.  There is no formal curfew in Gloamwood, but the watch have been jumpy and tend to question passersby late at night, especially outsiders.

He's been in Gloamwood for two days, after being contacted by an old associate '" the Ogre Mage Obraxus the Accursed.  A simple enough job, really '" travel to the Overworld, infiltrate the human settlement of Gloamwood, assassinate the mayor and the captain of the watch, and eliminate the guards at the northern gate.  Then raise the portcullis, unbar the doors, and leave quietly.  The pay was decent '" five hundred crowns of dwarven gold.  Not bad for an evening's work.

He'd taken a room at the Duskhaven Inn, an old, antiquated sort of establishment in the middle of town.  A quick poke around the town hall's archives late at night had produced records and a map of the town '" enough information to find and remove his targets.

First up was the mayor.  His house was a three-story manse near the eastern gate, much larger and more ornate than most of the buildings in Glaomwood.  Alastor crept towards it now, red eyes peeled for guards.  The mayor was reputedly a paranoid man, grown corpulent on tax-money and spendthrift adventurers.

The main door would be locked, and far too exposed to make a stealthy entrance, but the tiefling can see an open window on the third floor, lit with a sputtering paraffin lamp.  He smiles, then begins mouthing the syllables of a Spider Climb spell.  He removes his thick leather gloves, rubs his hands together to ward off the autumn chill, and approaches the mayor's home surreptitiously, creeping on drow-made Boots of Elvenkind, then lays his hands against the plastered walls and begins his ascent.  A few moments later he has dropped soundlessly into a small library on the top floor.  He heads to the door and opens it softly.

Two doors and a corridor leading to a flight of stairs.  He tries the door on his left and finds en empty bedroom, curtains of a four-poster bed undulating in the slight wind.  He listens at the second door and hears the sound of a quill scratching on parchment, then opens the door cautiously and tiptoes inside.

A bald, portly man in his middle years is crouched over a writing desk with his back to the door.  The room looks like a study '" a well-furnished room with a globe, a marble bust (Alastor thinks it's of the man in the chair), and a few more bookshelves.  A half-empty decanter of wine sits on the desk next to a goblet, from which the man takes a swig.  The tiefling draws his short sword and approaches the scribbling mayor.  He clamps a hand round the man's mouth and reaches round to stab the mayor in the chest, hard.  The man emits a muffled cry and struggles, bumping the desk and upsetting the goblet.  Alastor stabs again, and the man goes still.
The tiefling hears footsteps '" a guard!  He rushes to the door and closes it gently, then glides back over to the mayor and positions him so that he is slumped forward with his head against the desk.  He pours some of the wine on the mayor's clothing in hopes of disguising the blood, then hurries over to the door, positioning himself so that if it opens he will be behind it.

The footsteps grow loud and a light appears under the door; it swings open and a liveried man with a sword in his belt peers in, frowning.

'Mayor?  You alright?'  He lifts a lamp.  'Heh.  The old sot's drunk himself into a stupor.  He'll feel that one tomorrow morning'¦'  The guard turns and leaves.

Alastor lets out a breath, then slips out the study's window, back into the night.  With any luck the mayor's murder won't be discovered till morning, when it'll be too late.  He heads towards the walls, not far from the manse itself.  His spell is still in effect: he scales the walls with minimal difficulty.

Alastor creeps along the old stone parapets, alert in case a militia member happens along.  He comes to northeast watchtower and creeps up a flight of spiral steps to listen at the door.  A conversation is audible.

''¦hear about those adventurers went up the mountains to slay that damn Ogre Mage?'  One voice says.

'Yeah, haven't come back yet though,' another replies.  'Probably dead, like the rest.'

'Most likely.  I hear there's another party coming to town.  Supposed to be more experienced; spent sometime in the Great Below, if tales are to be believed.  Real hard types.  Mayor wants them on special contract, what with all the raids on caravans an' such.'

'Huh.  Hey, is the captain around?  I smuggled a wineskin up but I don't want that curmudgeon catching me purple-mouthed.'

'I think he's in the southeast tower, chewing out some new recruit who fell asleep on watch.  Hey, pass that wineskin here'¦'

Alastor chuckles and turns back along the wall, towards the southeast tower.  He recasts Spider Climb and circumvents the east gate by crawling along the outside of the wall, under the guards' noses, then approaches the tower.  He can hear someone yelling and swearing loudly within, and position himself to one side of the door.  A minute later the yelling ceases and the door bursts open as a huge, burly man exits.  Alastor can hear shuffling inside the room '" the new recruit, most likely.  He can't get behind the watch captain '" presumably the broad-shouldered man '" while the recruit could be watching, potentially ready to raise an alarm.  He waits till the captain is out of earshot and turns into the room, sword draw.  The recruit is sharpening his blade on a whetsone; Alastor sneaks up and makes short work of him, then climbs the spiral staircase inside the tower to the top, readying his bow as he does so.  He removes a vial of poison from his belt and applies a venomous liquid to the tip of an arrowhead, then aims towards the captain, now some distance along the wall-walk.  He looses the shaft and catches the man in the neck; the captain staggers and collapses, slipping from the wall altogether.

Now for the northern gatehouse.  Alastor hurries along the wall as swiftly and quietly as he can; time is beginning to run out.  He uses his eldritch climbing abilities to sneak around the tower to the side of the guard at the gatehouse door and cuts the man's throat, then lays the corpse against the wall.  There are two more guards atop the gatehouse, the tiefilng knows; he casts Ghost Sound to produce the aural illusion of snoring.

'Did Murray fall asleep again?'  He hears one of the guards say.

'Go check, wake the bastard up.  If the captain finds out he's asleep on the job there'll be hell to pay.'

Alastor waits for the door to open and incapacitates the other guard.  The remaining guards follow; he snipes one guarding the gate itself through a murder-hole inside the gatehouse, then piles the bodies in a small armory.  As he is finishing up the door slams open and yet another guard enters the gatehouse.

'Oi!  What's all this then?!'  The man yells, drawing his longsword.  'Guards, guards!'  He runs to strike the alarm-gong; Alastor intercepts him.

The two spar, blades clashing.  The guard slashes the assassin across the chest while parrying the tiefling's blows, but then Alastor feints and lunges fast, running the man through.  The guard gurgles and dies.

Twitching his cloak away from the spreading pool of blood Alastor winches back the portcullis and heads down to the ground level to unbar the gate, then removes a small, glyph-etched bloodstone from his pocket.

'Alright Obraxus,' he whispers.  'Everything's taken care of.'[/ic] [ooc]For much of this session I played this music (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bmyu03-EebE) - I also used it when Kraashgar was hunting the grig in the ventillation tunnels.[/ooc]

[ic=Episode 30: Out of the Pan]Kraashgar draws his pistol and morningstar.  The dwarven undead shamble slowly towards our hero in various states of decay; their moans fill the chamber.  There's no way he can fight this many.  They walk forwards, arms outstretched, hands groping, rotten teeth gnashing in their mouths, eyes full of mindless hate.  Their stench fills Kraashgar's nostrils, nearly making him retch.

Nothing for it '" if he can't destroy them, he'll have to flee.  The exit is on the other side of the chamber.  Two sarcophagi are evident in the center.

Our hero's red eyes narrow and he tenses, then rushes forward.  The dwarves groan enthusiastically and begin to cluster.  One lurches from the shadows behind him, arms raised in a macabre embrace; it fastens its putrid limbs about his waist, clawing at him, jaws opening, preparing to clamp down on his thigh.

Kraashgar yelps and rips himself free, jumping in a single bound atop the first sarcophagus.  He fires off a shot into the morbid crowd and leaps again, sailing over their heads!  The zombies and skeletons claw at the air, rasping voices crying out, full of insatiable hunger.  Kraashgar's boots land on the second sarcophagus and he nearly falls, but keeps his balance.  He jumps down, skids around two remaining zombies, and sprints through the exit and down the passage beyond, undead in close if sluggish pursuit.

The goblin outpaces them quickly and dashes through the broken doors.  Red eyes linger behind him in the musty gloom of the crypts, but the wards on the floor deter the undead from following.

Kraashgar catches his breath.  He heads to the mess hall down the corridor and eats his fill.  As he finishes his meal Veth enters the chamber and calls the inhabitants to attention.

'Alright you lot, listen up.  Boss wants everyone in the central hall on level one.  Finish up and then get up there, and don't dawdle.  Caustic is in a mood, and I hear the Boss isn't too pleased either, so everyone just fall in line, got it?'

More work?  He'd hoped at least for a chance for a decent sleep'¦ Resigned to his fate Kraashgar troops up to the central hall with the rest of the denizens, grumbling under his breath.

Everyone is arrayed in the central hall, clustered about pillars and standing or sitting in loose groups.  Kraashgar recognizes many familiar faces: Skelus and his assistant, Wrask, the kobold weaponmaster Kurlok, Skabrat, Xug, Zetch, Mr. Pincer, Szor the drow and his ogre opponent, the gnoll priestess, the Salamander smith '" everyone is gathered.  Obraxus walks in, exuding power, followed closely by Caustic, Veth, Morkoth, and the Ogre Mage's imp familiar, Shez, who flutters about its master's horned head.  Everyone looks up, and those who were sitting stand.  The hall goes silent.

 'The time has come to prove your mettle.'  The Ogre Mage growls.  'The adventurer situation has grown intolerable.  It's time to stop hijacking the odd caravan and attack the Above-landers in force, before they hire another party.

'We have an agent who even now has infiltrated their surface town.  He will have the gate unlocked, and the guards on the wall will be dead, but we'll have to strike hard and fast.  I will lead the main strike-force.  There will be two other groups, one captained by Veth, the other by Zetch and Mr. Pincer.

'One group will secure the main gate swiftly, then signal the other two to follow.  We will proceed into Gloamwood, loot the storehouses and the armouries, and take as many slaves as we can before retreating.  We'll torch a few houses but we won't burn the place to the ground '" just cripple their ability to respond.

'We'll leave a skeleton guard here, hand-picked by Caustic.  She will of course be in charge while I am gone.  Now group up!  And let's have some discipline!  I won't have you sniveling maggots embarrassing me.'[/ic]

[ic=Episode 31: And Into the Fire]Obraxus' minions have marched from the gates of the dungeon down into the vale that shelters the human town of Gloamwood; they pause at the gates.  Kraashgar is grouped with a ragtag band of minions that includes the Ogre Mage himself.  The portcullis has been raised and the gates thrown open.

A thick mist cloaks the ground, from which a cloaked figure materializes, eyes glowing red in the darkness of his hood.  The figure removes his cowl revealing demonic horns; Kraashgar recognizes the man as the tiefling Alastor, who he met in the Blind Beholder Tavern in Ool-Nacha and who recommended him to Grognash for his current position.

'Everything's taken care of, Obraxus,' Alastor says, smiling.  He gestures with a bloody blade at a corpse slumped inside the gate.  'My payment, please?'

'Here, hell-spawn.'  Obraxus throws a bag on the ground that clinks with coin.  'As always your service has been exceptional.'

The tiefling smiles a wry, enigmatic smile and takes the gold, melting into the night.  Obraxus signals that the other groups move in from their positions.  When the do so the Ogre Mage levitates several feet off the ground to address all present.  Kraashgar loads his pistol and readies his morningstar.

'Veth, your group will stay and guard the gate,' Obraxus growls.  'Cromn, get some volunteers and head to the northwest tower armory.'  He nods to a hulking ogre '" the one Szor had been playing chess with.  'Zetch, take Mr. Pincer and start slave-taking.  The rest of you, head to the storehouses.  We want to be fast.  Light a few small fires if you must, but don't torch the place entirely.  We'll regroup here; anyone who lingers gets left behind.'  Obraxus unsheathes his huge black greatsword and points it towards the town.  'Let's go, boys!'

They charge in; Kraashgar decides to head with the party going to the armory and so follows the ogre Cromn, co-opting Wrask, Xug, and Skabrat as well; the drow Szor follows, also.  They head through the town along the wall, treading quietly; the sounds of looting in other parts of Gloamwood become audible.

Two guards are stationed at the huge iron door of the northwest armory tower.  Kraashgar shoots one in the torso and the man staggers back, but draws his blade and holds one hand to his wound.  The other guard is armed with a halberd, but takes one of Skabrat's throwing knives to the throat and goes down.  Cromn finishes the second guard off with a sweep from his greataxe.  They search the bodies but there is no sign of a key, and even Cromn's prodigious strength isn't sufficient to batter down the door. Skabrat tries to pick the lock but cannot.

'The watch captain must have the key,' Cromn snarls.

'Wait, guys, I think I have a solution,' Kraashgar interjects, producing the small bomb he looted from the Gearhead caravan on his previous surface raid.  'Everyone stand back.  Someone have a light?'

Xug lights Kraashgar's bomb and the goblin lobs it towards the door, where after a few moments it explodes in a cloud of flame and smoke, blowing the iron door off its hinges.  The group swarms inside and begins looting weapons kept within.

'Goblins, drow, head upstairs and secure the upper floor,' Cromn orders, pointing to a flight of spiral steps.  The three head up; Szor is still snootily ignoring Kraashgar.  They listen at the door they find at the top but hear nothing.  Skabrat fiddles with the lock and it clicks open.

'Alright, on three,' Kraashgar whispers.  'One'¦ two'¦ three!'

The three burst into the room: crossbow quarrels whistle through the air, one grazing our hero's face!  Three of Gloamwood's much-dwindled militia crouch in the room '" perhaps the only guards left in the entire town.  They are reloading and preparing for a second strike as the raiders charge in, Skabrat hurling daggers, Kraashgar brandishing his pistol and morningstar, Szor lunging with an ornate rapier, his movements cat-like, almost balletic.  The guards are swiftly overwhelmed by the three, who take few wounds themselves.  Kraashgar's pistol jams during the fight, but he manages to clean out the firing mechanism in the aftermath.  The group loot the top room as well '" predominantly stocked with quarrels and crossbows.

The looting of the armory complete the group head out into Gloamwood once more.

'I'm heading back to the gates,' Szor proclaims, striding off into the darkness.

'Pretty-boy,' Skabrat sniggers, once the drow is out of earshot.

'More like a dancer than a fighter,' Kraashgar adds.  'Want to loot some shops?'

'Yeah, come on,' the other goblin exclaims '" and the two head into the town in search of mischief, followed vaguely by Wrask, Xug, and Cromn.  The gnoll is merrily smashing windows and laughing manically.
Kraashgar and Skabrat enter a stables.  A stablehand in his night-clothes is inside, a pitchfork in one hand, lantern in another.  Kraashgar charges forwards and smashes his morningstar into the youth's face; the lantern falls and shatters, lighting the wooden floor on fire.

'Come on, Kraashgar!'  Skabrat shouts, as the flames begin to lick at the walls.  The goblin ahs liberated a black horse, which he sits astride; Kraashgar, grinning, mounts up behind him, and the two ride out into the street, towards the sound of a pitched battle and the flicker of other, distant flames.

They approach the town's central square, where a few citizens have gathered in an attempt to defend Gloamwood, cornered by Obraxus' minions, including Zetch & Mr. Pincer.  These are no militia '" just craftsmen and similar locals armed with clubs, cutlery, and farming implements.  Kraashgar and Skabrat ride into the fray, steed neighing, our hero's pistol flaring, commoners crying out in alarm!  They stay atop the steed for a moment before a stray scythe-swipe nearly fells the beast and they leap down.  Together with Cromn, Zetch & Mr. Pincer, Xug, Wrask, and others they make short work of the townsfolk.

'Alright, everyone, back to the gates,' the Neogi Zetch whines.  The group heads back towards the entrance down the main street.

They have nearly made it back to the gates when four mysterious figures appear from out of the night.

One is sheathed from head to toe in armor and carries a massive blade.  Another, a dwarf, hefts a warhammer; behind these two a tall, effete gray elf simpers and a lithe halfling swivels a hand crossbow to and fro.

Kraashgar squints into the darkness.  Are those'¦

'No.  It can't be them.'

But it is; indisputably.  The four are adventurers, but not random mercenaries.  These are the four that slaughtered Kraashgar's kinsfolk and destroyed his home-cavern.  These are the four that took everything away from the goblin.

Our hero's red eyes flash as the two groups advance.

The ensuing battle is messy and deadly.  Kraashgar aims a bullet at the mage and fires, but his shot bounces off a shield of arcane force; Skabrat is hit with a bolt from the halfling's crossbow but stays on his feet.  While Mr. Pincer and the adventurers' fighter go toe to toe the rest of the battle becomes a swirl of flying arrows, bullets, and magic.

The elf wizard assumes a look of contempt and utters a dread incantation.  Magic missiles '" of the same variety that knocked Kraashgar unconscious much earlier '" fly from his fingertips, hurtling through the air towards the raiders.  They converge on the gnoll Wrask, who is leaping forward with his scimitar gleaming.  The Missiles penetrate his armor and fur '" and the gnoll explodes from the inside-out.

Kraashgar roars a shriek of goblin fury and charges forward with morningstar raised.  Despite the wizard's eldritch protections our hero manages to land a blow, nearly breaking the magus' concentration as he begins another spell.

'You should be more thorough!'  Kraashgar yells, bashing at the elf with his weapon.

The fighter is surrounded by foes, holding back the Umber Hulk and other minions with assistance from the dwarven cleric; the halfling is still sniping from the rear.  Seemingly out of the smoke and mist Obraxus suddenly appears, sword drawn.  The Ogre Mage and the fighter cross blades and spar; the armored human has already been battered.  Obraxus parries aside his blows and sinks his black sword into the man's chest, punching through his plate mail.  He twists the sword and then yanks it free; the fighter staggers back and falls, lifeless.

The gray elf moves fast, darting backwards with uncanny agility, outside of Kraashgar's reach.  He touches the halfling and the dwarf, who is touching their companion's corpse, while speaking a spell; a portal of magical energy manifests and the four disappear, snatched from the raiders' clutches in a puff of purplish smoke.[/ic]

[ic=Episode 32: Alas Poor Wrask!  Where Be Your Gibes Now?]The raid is over; the company of raiders make their way back towards their dungeon, led by the Ogre Mage Obraxus.  Gloamwood smolders behind them '" scorched but intact, looted of its wealth.  Many of its citizens have been interred in huge bone cage-wagons that even now are drawn up the mountain paths by ogres and orcs.  These terrified humans will be sold in the slave-markets of the Great Below; an eternity of darkness and pain awaits them.

Bringing up the rear, battered but alive, the goblin Kraashgar hauls the head of Wrask the gnoll.  His companion and friend, the gnoll was slain by a powerful gray elf wizard; after the fell magus used a dimension door to teleport himself and his comrades away, Kraashgar recovered Wrask's head from the battlefield.  The head drips blood, spattering the stone steps that lead up to the Ogre Mage's Lair.

They arrive at the massive, rune-etched gates of the dungeon and find the anteroom devoid of inhabitants.  Obraxus growls and pushes open the next set of doors and the company passes within: suddenly, dwarves appear from the gloom beyond, and shots ring out as battle is joined!  The Gearheads '" marked by their crude, piston-driven augmentations and their penchant for firearms '" had concealed themselves behind the huge pillars of the upper hall.  Now they swarm about the raiding company, filling the air with gunsmoke!

Kraashgar yelps a battle-cry and shoots a charging dwarf in the chest with his pistol, then readies his morningstar, but Obraxus '" enraged and seething with arcane energies '" has already decimated the first few ranks of dwarves, assisted by the enslaved Umber Hulk Mr. Pincer.  The rest of the intruders are swiftly destroyed.

'They must have attacked in our absence!'  Obraxus bellows.  'Minions!  Cleanse my halls of these scum!  On!'

The dungeon denizens make their way cautiously into their home, bypassing traps and checking every room for dwarves.  The first guard-room is empty.  As they near the second they hear the sound of battle and rush inside, crowding the doorway.

Inside the second guard-room tables have been overturned and bodies are strewn across the floor.  Caustic the drow wizardess stands behind the impromptu barricades and pelts the dwarves surrounding her with spells, while their bullets whine off her eldritch shield.  Several other dungeon minions snipe with crossbows and pistols of their own, but most of the skeleton guard left behind during the raid are dead '" slain by the Gearhead invaders.

Obraxus decapitates the nearest dwarf and continues onwards into the attackers while Kraashgar (still carrying Wrask's head), Xug, Skabrat, and other minions pile in, dealing death.  The dwarves are pushed swiftly back down the stairs, where they are slaughtered in the second-level guard-room.  Caustic slays the last dwarf with a conjured arrow of dripping green acid, which reduces the humanoid to a pile of slag and runny gore.

'They attacked using the level three entrance an hour after you left,' the drow lieutenant pants.  'They circumvented our alarms somehow '" we didn't know they were coming.  I don't know; the whole thing reeks of someone on the inside.  It can't be that captive, Brogg, we've got him warded and shackled'¦'

'Someone go check on the dwarf captive,' Obraxus commands.  'The rest of you, sweep the dungeon.  We need to get rid of this filth.'

Kraashgar volunteers to look in on Brogg; the others begin to pan out to check every nook and cranny of the dungeon for remaining dwarves.

Our hero passes down several corridors and enters the cellblock.  Here he finds a Gearhead fitting a stolen key into Brogg's cell door.  He drops Wrask's head, draws raises his pistol and fires, but the shot ricochets off the dwarf's helm.  The intruder finishes opening the door, then turns with his waraxe raised and rushes Kraashgar, screaming Dwarven curses.  Our hero deftly dodges the dwarf's overhead slash and brains the Gearhead with his morningstar.  The dwarf thumps against the wall and falls to the floor, unconscious, blood leaking from his skull.  Kraashgar steps over to finish him off '" and then Brogg steps out from his cell.

'Ooh, how I've dream a' this moment'¦' the half-shaved dwarf proclaims, balling his fists.  He is ragged from interrogation, both magical and mundane, but his eyes are full of fury.  He shouts a wordless battle-cry and charges forwards.  Kraashgar, light on his feet, ducks away from the blow and makes a counter-attack, but his weapon goes wide.  Brogg snatches up his fallen rescuer's waraxe and attacks our hero again, landing a glancing blow, but Kraashgar lands a crippling counterattack in response and smashes his morningstar into Brogg's jaw.  Impossibly Brogg is still alive.  The dwarf spits out a tooth and prepares to hack at the goblin again '" and then Yoggy, Thollom's Ethereal Marauder, materializes out of the Ether and snaps at Brogg's legs!  While the dwarf is distracted Kraashgar lands a finishing blow that fells the Gearhead Clansman for good.

Kraashgar pants and retrieves Wrask's head, then heads dwn the cellblock: the Gray Slaad's laboratory is just beyond.  The creature seems unaware or simply uninterested in the Gearhead's incursion; he busies himself about his laboratory as if nothing unusual was occurring.  Kraashgar presents the gnoll's head.

'I found another component for your project,' the goblin says.  'You said you were short on parts: here's a perfectly intact head.'

'Oh, a present!'  The Gray Slaad coos.  Kraashgar notices that he is still shedding scales; the new ones beneath are glossy and dark.  'Perfect for my uses'¦ so thoughtful of you!'

At this moment Yoggy drags Brogg's corpse into the chamber by the remnants of his beard.

'And look!  Yoggy's found even more goodies!  My my, this is going to turn out even better than I'd hoped'¦'[/ic]

I love it... keep up the awesome work. You have me thoroughly interested.

So... the player didn't want to resurrect Wrask?

[ooc]The player actually did want to raise/ressurect Wrask, but there aren't any high level clerics hanging around willing to do him the favor.  For one thing Kraashagr doesn't exactly have 50 gp diamonds coming out of his pockets (i.e. the material component needed for a basic raise).  Plus, Wrask's body was blown up: only the head remains intact.  Low-level resurrection wouldn't work without a complete body.

I could have inserted a random high level cleric (or even a mid-level druid) to pander to his desire to get Wrask back, but I decided against it; it would have seemed contrived, and I wanted a death that stung a little (Wrask was a pretty comedic character, I played him more or less like the hyena Ed from the Lion King).

He's going to be integrated into a flesh golemy thing, in actual fact.  At a later date, if that thing gets killed or something, I might consider letting the player remove Wrask's head again and use it for a reincarnation spell... he'll end up as something very un-hyena-like for comic effect.

As a side note, I hadn't planned on killing Wrask beforehand, not had I actually planned to have the adventurers show up; they both just occurred to me as a good capstone to the adventure, and as a reminder of the character's long-term motivations.[/ooc]

[ic=Episode 33: Mapping]The Gearheads have been routed; the dungeon is secure once more, and the spoils of the raid have been rich.  Obraxus is low on minions, however '" a small number were lost at Gloamwood, two more in the attack on the dwarven caravan some time earlier, yet more to an adventuring party before that, and almost all of the skeleton guard left behind to guard the Lair while Obraxus and the raiders were away.

Kraashgar has spent the last few shifts disposing of bodies in a moat of magma that lies outside the level three entrance.  His wounds heal through rest and some magical aid from other denizens employed for that purpose '" Obraxus needs his remaining minions in peak condition in case of another attack '" and he is paid his weekly salary of two gold pieces. After a few shifts of basic guard-duty and maintenance he is called to the map-room and sent by Caustic down to the third floor sub-level to Skelus the kobold trapsmith's workshop.

The kobold's previous assistant was killed by the Gearheads, so Skelus has been scrambling to keep the dungeon defenses in working order.  He is fiddling with some piece of machinery '" possibly something of the dwarves' '" when Kraashgar enters.

'Ah, there you are, you little blighter.  I have a task for you, one fit for someone of your stature.  It seems the Gearheads managed to bypass some of our outer defenses on level three.  Purple worms have riddled the rock surrounding the old mines and the rest of the dungeon with tunnels, and one of those tunnels brushed up close to level three.  The dwarves mined through to a cavern just outside the main doors so that they appeared almost instantly at the dungeon gates.  Usually we would have been warned of their approach by alarm wards we placed along the stairs leading up to the gates, but because of the tunnels they could approach undetected, and since the guard contingent was smaller than usual they managed to force their way inside with relative ease.

'You'll take explosives down to the tunnels in order to seal them off in key places.  The tunnels are small: even though purple worms are enormous creatures they're not very wide, little more than five feet across.  Big enough for dwarves and goblins, but too small for orcs, gnolls, or even drow to move around comfortably.

'Now, sealing off the main exit won't do much good, because the dwarves will just mine through again.  We'll still blow their main entrance to delay them, but it won't slow them down for too long.  Instead of just detonating all the tunnels, we'll seal off certain tunnels while planting traps in others.  This way the dwarves will be funneled into the trapped tunnels, and we can deal a lot of damage to a force trying to pull the same trick again.

'The tunnels are intricate, and hugely extensive.  Take this compass; the Gearhead's fortress is directly west of the dungeon.  You're going to scout the tunnels, map some of them, and then return to get the explosives and traps.  We'll use the map to determine the best placement locations for both.  Don't bother with passages that wind continuously to the north or south: only bother mapping those that run roughly east-west, otherwise it'll take forever.'

Kraashgar accepts the compass, as well as a stylus, parchment, and a piece of chalk.  He heads down to the entrance at level three and has Cromn, the level three guard-captain, open the doors for him.  He crosses the bridge over the magma-moat here and locates the tunnel the dwarves used '" a small opening just off the main passage, a long stair that winds into the depths of the Great Below.  Tentatively our hero enters the tunnel: he can walk through the tunnels comfortably, without crouching.

The mapping takes some time.  The tunnels are regular in size but not in level: they pitch up and down, so Kraashgar has to climb up and down frequently.  Sometimes vertical tunnels intersect roughly horizontal ones, so Kraashgar must leap over.  He marks key junctions with chalk and steadily maps the tunnels, acquiring a few bruises from tumbles as he does so.  Eventually he locates an inscription in Dwarven runes on a tunnel-wall leading west '" presumably to the Gearhead Clan fortress.  Twice he emerges on high ledges looking out into an enormous cavern that glimmers with mithril veins; other times he encounters passages that slope till they point straight downwards or upwards, and others that have collapsed on their own.  He is nearly finishing his rough map of the tunnels when he stumbles upon a cluster of reddish toadstools '" shriekers!  He accidentally perturbs the screaming mushrooms and backs off quickly.  Now he needs to return to the dungeon to get the explosives and traps.  Slowly our hero begins making his way back through the tunnels.

Kraashgar is still wandering through the purple worm tunnels when he hears a scrambling sound above him.  He looks up into a vertical shaft and sees a pair of gleaming red eyes approaching.  Our hero draws his pistol and backs away from the tunnel.  Moments later a pair of splayed, spiny hands appear on the rim of the shaft, followed by a narrow, head with yellow teeth '" a choker!  Kraashgar learned of these fell creatures as a child: unwholesome, vaguely humanoid things that lurk in narrow spaces, waiting for prey.  He was lucky to have detected this one: usually they are exceptionally stealthy.

Kraashgar aims at the choker's face and squeezes off a shot, but the aberration draws itself back up into the shaft and scuttles away.  The sound of his gunshot in the cramped space of the tunnel is deafening.

'Damn, now I'll have this thing stalking me'¦ fantastic.'

He heads down some more tunnels in an effort to return to the dungeon, but despite his map he gets turned around and finds himself at an unknown junction. A trail of slime coats the ground '" a viscous, yellow-green mucus.

'At least whatever made this won't be able to sneak up on me,' Kraashgar mutters, and follows the trail down the tunnel'¦[/ic]

[ic=Episode 34: The Nest]Kraashgar is lost in the tunnels of purple worms.  Somewhere behind him, a choker alerted by shriekers is hunting him, and he is following the slime-trail of something else that lives in the tunnels.

After several twists and turns, our hero enters a small, round cavern of natural origin, predating the excavations of the worms.  Stalactites and stalagmites jut from floor and ceiling, and a large pool of cold, dark water is evident in one corner.  A pile of slimy eggs like frogspawn adheres to the lip of the pool.

Bones carpet the floor, mostly of small creatures like fish or rats, but also of humanoids.  In addition a recently slain dwarf lies on the floor, his flesh covered in ugly pucker-wounds like open sores.  He clutches a small pistol, and a bandolier is strung over his chest.  Our hero investigates the bandolier and retrieves ten bullets, each etched with a distinctive Dwarven rune.  Kraashgar has been running quite low on ammunition '" only six bullets left '" so he loads one of the rune-etched bullets into his pistol.  For good measure he smashes the eggs by the pool with his morningstar; they appear to have been filled with tadpole-like embryos.  He decides, on a whim to keep one of the eggs, and tucks it into his satchel.

No other tunnels lead into the nest so Kraashgar turns back.  He makes a few more turns before he hears a slithering noise behind him in the dark; he turns and finds himself face to face with the creator of the slime-trails, a monstrous, serpentine horror with four tentacles surrounding a beak-like maw '" a grick!

Kraashgar fires off one of the rune-etched bullets, but the shot is deflected by the beast's thick hide.  He fumbles to reload but the monstrosity is upon him, lashing out with one of its barbed tentacles and nipping with its sharp jaws, badly wounding our hero!  At last Kraashgar is able to load a second rune-etched bullet.  He raises the flintlock and discharges it in the horror's hideous visage.  The bullet enters the grick's open maw and explodes in a blaze of orange light.  The creature whines in horrible agony as it burns from the inside out, leaving only a blackened chitin shell behind.

Grimly, the goblin reloads.  He continues down the passage and discovers one of his chalk marks '" at last, back to familiar paths!  Using his map he manages to make his way back to the exit near the dungeon.  He heads up to Skelus' workshop and shows the kobold his map; together the two of them sketch out placements for the traps and explosives.

'I can supply you with the traps: tripwires strung up to small capsules filled with blackpowder.  They'll explode moments after the wire is tripped, spraying anyone who walks into them with shrapnel and flame, and potentially collapsing the tunnel on them as well.'  Skelus gestures to an array of the small, deadly devices on a work-bench.  'For the bombs, you'll need to pay Kurlok a visit; they're being stored in the third floor armory.'

Kraashgar rolls up the map, packs the traps into his satchel, and heads towards the armory.[/ic][ooc]Yes I copy Alien a lot, I know...

The bullets are +1 Flaming bullets; I placed them so that Kraashgar would have a chance against a grick.  It still nearly ate him alive, heheh.[/ooc]

[ic=Episode 35: Light the Fuuuse!]With some help from Cromn the ogre Kraashgar manages to cart a number of small blackpowder casks looted from the Gearhead caravan down to the purple worm tunnels, after signing out these explosives from Kurlok, the officious kobold weaponmaster.  Equipped with a flint and steel as a fire-starter our hero sets off into the tunnels, a cask under his arm and another in his bag, along with the booby-traps he was given by Skelus.  He keeps one hand near his pistol.

Our hero successfully saps two tunnels and lays a booby trap in a third, where the dwarves will be forced to pass through.  He is about to return to the exit to get more explosives when he feels a spiny paw slap him across the shoulder, then encircle his neck!

Our hero gasps for air as the tentacle tightens, constricting him!  The choker has returned '" the foul creature he saw skulking about the tunnels earlier.  Kraashagr squirms but cannot free himself from the horror's tight grasp.  He does manage to draw his pistol; fortunately he remembered to reload this time.  He aims the flintlock as best he can and fires.

In the cramped space of the tunnel it is difficult to miss.  The blaze of light from the firearm lights up the scene for a brief moment, illuminating the aberration with its tentacle-arms wrapped round the goblin in a grotesque parody of an embrace, our hero pointing his weapon somewhere at the aberration's emaciated body.  Then the bullet pierces flesh and ignites; the choker releases its grip and begins swatting at its flaming body with its arms.  It scurries down the passage, attempting a retreat.   Moving as fast as he can Kraashgar begins to reload, while following the choker: he won't have the creature sneak up on him again!

The choker is about to drop down a narrow shaft when Kraashgar finishes reloading and fires again.  This time the bullet catches the monster in the back of the skull, spattering the tunnel with blood and brains.  Our hero blows the smoke off his pistol and continues about his task.

Kraashgar has almost finished sapping the tunnels and laying his traps.  He is about to lay the final explosive when something hideous squirms in the darkness, a thing all tentacles and beak: the grick's mate, come for vengeance.  Yelling loudly Kraashgar tumbles out of the tunnels and back into the cavern outside the dungeon, where the ogre Cromn is guarding the heap of remaining explosives.  The ornery grick slithers out in pursuit; Cromn interposes himself between Kraashgar and the monster and swats at it with his huge club.  His blow batters the grick against the cave-wall, but it seems surprisingly unaffected by such a tremendous attack.  It screams horribly and launches itself at the ogre, slashing at the giant's face and chest with its tentacles and snapping with its beak.  Blood spurts as the barbed tentacles lacerate flesh.  Kraashgar aims a shot but misses, then furiously begins reloading his pistol.  He's nearly out of rune-etched bullets: every shot needs to count.

Cromn is struggling to fend off the grick, still mauling him with its tentacles, when Kraashgar's bullet takes it in the flank.  It hisses as it ignites and tries to scuttle back into the tunnel, but Cromn aims another blow with his club and squashes it against the cave-floor.

'Whew.  That was close '" thanks Cromn,' Kraashgar says, as he prepares the final explosive.

'Don't mention it.  I need to see a healer; I'll send Szor out to help you haul this stuff back.'

Our hero detonates the final blast as the drow Szor saunters out, a look of contempt on his face.  The two return the rest of the explosives back to the armory while the drow looks daggers at Kraashgar.

Some time later, Kraashgar gives the grick egg to Thollom the Gray Slaad, who accepts it with fervent interest.[/ic]

[ic=Episode 36: Tracking]After a couple of guard shifts Kraashgar is summoned for a new assignment.  Usually the drow Casutic has given him jobs, but this time Obraxus himself meets him.

'Kraashgar, was it?'  Obraxus towers above our hero, massive, black eyes staring unwaveringly.  Kraashgar cannot help but think of the ease with which he dispatched the dwarves, or the human adventurer.  'I have heard... good reports concerning your conduct over your last few assignments.  You can consider your parole period officially over.'

'Thank you, Boss,' the goblin squeaks.

'Now, I have a new task for you.  Despite your lack of experience you have acquired something of a reputation as a negotiator.  Caustic tells me you secured a dwarven captive from a worg, and also convinced the spirit on the second level to depart.  I have a job that will require a similar sort of delicacy.

'Normally I would select someone who's been here longer for such an important mission, but I am severely understaffed at the moment.  I need new guards for the gate on level three: the previous defenders were slain during the Gearhead attack.  Rumors have reached me of a gang of hill giants dwelling in the foothills of the mountains outside the dungeon, near the forest's border.  I want you to find them and convince them to sign on as dungeon guards.

'Fortunately, the sale of the slaves we took in the Gloamwood raid has ensured that my coffers are full at the moment.  You may offer the giants up to five gold pieces a week, each, for their employment.  If you complete this task, you will receive a bonus of five gold pieces for each giant recruited, and if you continue to serve me well I may consider raising your weekly salary.

'Unfortunately, giants rarely speak anything but their own tongue.  Cromn will accompany you on this mission as a translator.  Caustic has also prepared several potions for you, in case you run into difficulties Above.'

'Of course, Boss.'

A short while later, Cromn and Kraashgar meet up in the first level hall before heading out onto the surface and into the night.  It's cold outside: the seasons are changing.  The two head down the mountain stair and into the foothills.

The hills are barren and desolate, dotted with old barrows, druidic circles, and shattered statues '" relics of defunct kingdoms and long departed peoples.  The two are looking for a smoke-trail or a glimmer of fire, listening for the sound of deep voices.

Kraashgar is still scouring the hills with Cromn when he hears a scrabbling sound on a rock above, and then they appear, gliding almost soundlessly out of the darkness: a pride of huge, catlike creatures somewhat like mountain lions, perhaps eight or nine in all.  They stand on rocky crags or slink out of narrow defiles, predatory, growling softly.

Kraashgar draws his pistol even as the first beast pounces from the crag.  His shot takes it in the chest, his rune-etched bullet '" one of the very few remaining '" igniting on contact.  The mountain cat is killed instantly.

The rest of the pride are clearly spooked, but they look hungry.  One advances towards our hero and with a screeching wail draws back the flesh and fur of its visage, exposing a bare skull.  The effect is extremely unnerving, but Kraashgar and Cromn stand their ground, unaffected.

'Krenshars,' Cromn mutters, his massive club raised.  'If we kill a few of them, the rest might decide we're not worth the effort.'

As the ogre finishes speaking one of the beasts pounces towards him, but he bats it aside with his club.  The krenshars are closing in slowly, as Kraashgar reloads.

His second shot wounds a Krenshar badly and scorches its fur; it hisses and backs away warily.  A second cat leaps on Kraashgar and scratches him across the chest with its claws while snapping its teeth.  The goblin falls back and swings with his morningstar, fending off the krenshars.  One of them darts forwards and bites Cromn on the thigh, while a second mauls him, flanking the ogre; Cromn smashes the latter with his club.  There is a sound of bones snapping and the krenshar lies still, its spine broken.

There are plenty of krenshars left, in a tight circle around Kraashgar and Cromn; those from higher up have scrambled down to join their pack-mates.  It looks as if the pair are going to have a particularly tough fight on their hands when our hero hears a howl and a huge, black wolf with red eyes leaps down out of the darkness from a rocky outcropping above, teeth bared '" the worg Svaorch!  The creature fastens its jaws round the nearest krenshar and savages it badly before throwing it aside; the krenshar hisses but backs away, obviously frightened, pulling back its flesh as it does so.

With the worg assisting them the goblin and the ogre fight off the rest of the pack easily, and the krenshars retreat into the night, bristling and licking their wounds, mewling in fear and rage.

'Goblin,' the worg says in Goblin.  'Kraashgar.  We meet again.  What brings you to these cold hills?'

'We're trying to find a gang of hill giants,' Kraashgar pants.  'Seen any recently?'

'I have seen six of these creatures in the hills.  Their camp is well-hidden: I will take you there, if you perform a favor in return.'

'What is it this time?'

'A group of redcaps has moved into an old tower in the forest and begun killing indiscriminately.  I have been forced from my burrow to take shelter in these hills, but I like not the openness of this place, nor the feel of cold stone beneath my paws.  Help me to destroy the redcaps and I will lead you to the giants' camp.'

Kraashgar translates the worg's speech into Undercommon for Cromn.

'We don't have time for this Kraashgar,' Cromn declares gruffly.  'And how do we know this beast is to be trusted?  It'll probably lead us into a trap, where the rest of its pack is waiting.'

'The rest of its pack was killed by a human woodsman,' Kraashgar explains.  'I've dealt with the creature before.  Besides, it'll take less time to kill these redcaps and have Svaroch lead us to the giants than to keep wandering around here blindly.'

'Very well, then,' Cromn relents.  'So long as we make this fast.'

'Lead on, Svaroch.'[/ic]

[ic=Episode 37: The Tower]Svaroch the worg leads Kraashgar and Cromn down through the foothills and into the depths of the forest.  He takes them along secret paths through the wood; all three use the utmost stealth, to avoid the attention of arboreal predators, or the forest gnomes whose territory they trespass.  After some time the three approach a moonlit clearing from which a ruinous tower juts.  The tower is a small, round edifice of crumbling stone.  Its upper floors have decayed, and its walls are clad in ivy and moss, as are its grotesque gargoyle sentinels.  A narrow, black doorway admits entrance.

Kraashgar drinks the first of the potions Caustic gave him '" a potion of Cure Moderate Wounds '" and motions that the others stay back, then creeps through the archway into the chamber beyond.
 Smashed furniture litters the floor on the first level.  Hundreds of skulls have been stacked like morbid trophies in the center of the room: stags, wolves, cats, gnomes, humans, and even the tiny skulls of birds, squirrels, and mice.  A spiraling staircase leads up to the next level, and a trapdoor in the floor leads down to a basement.  No redcaps or other creatures are evident: Kraashgar gestures that the others follow him in, then creeps up the stairs to the next level.

Red stains encrust the floor of the room at the top of the stairs.  Some sort of diabolic shrine has been constructed along the far wall, pieced together out of rubble and twigs, a monstrous, grinning idol with a bloodstained altar set before it.  Three small, hunched figures like wizened old gnomes squat in the gloom before this hideous shrine, their backs to our hero.  Their mouths are full of sharp teeth, they wear red caps on their heads, and they carry huge, rusty scythes and small slings.  They mutter in the fey tongue of all forest-folk.  Kraashgar creeps back down the stairs, motions that Svaroch and Cromn follow him quietly, and draws his pistol.

His first shot takes one of the redcaps in the back.  The fey turns, grinning horribly, scythe gleaming in the moonlight that streams through the broken walls and windows.  Even as Svaroch and Cromn burst into the chamber the faerie horror leaps towards Kraashgar and slahes him with its scythe, dealing a terrible blow.  The other two redcaps scramble to pick up chunks of rubble from the floor to use as ammunition for their slings.

The fight is frenzied, bloody.  The redcaps grin manically as they slash about with their scythes, quickly focusing on Cromn.  Kraashgar uses up the last of his rune-etched bullets and switches to his morningstar, which seems woefully ineffective against the fey.  Cromn and Svaroch fare somewhat better, but their attacks seem weakened as well '" the redcaps are incredibly resistant to damage.  Slowly they wear the fey down, eventually slaying two; the last Kraashgar pounces on and grapples.  He tries to interrogate the creature but it merely grins and spits blood, babbling in Sylvan, before Cromn finishes it off.  The three are all wounded; Kraashgar quaffs his second (and last) healing potion.

'Two of them remain,' Svaroch barks.  'They must be out on the hunt.'

Our hero investigates the top floor but finds it empty and desolate, strewn with rubble and crumbling statuary.  He heads down to the bottom floor, accompanied by Svaroch and Cromn, and with an effort hefts the trapdoor back.  He descends a ladder into a cellar below, pistol in hand, loaded now with a normal bullet.  He is perilously low on ammunition, and curses himself for not picking up more from Kurlok.

Dust and cobwebs are thick in the cellar. Kraashgar sees large wooden kegs and shelves with old wine-bottles, as well as a large wooden chest, slowly gathering dust, padlocked.  He hears a chittering sound and looks up, is horrified by a massive spider crouched in a huge web on the ceiling.  He aims a shot and blows the giant arachnid's head apart; it falls to the ground, legs twitching and contracting.

Kraashgar puts a couple of wine bottles in his satchel, then heads over to the chest.  After a couple of tries he busts the rusty padlock off with his morningstar.  Inside the chest he finds a heavy iron mace and a weighty book written in Common and scrawled with notes and pictures of faerie creatures.  Our hero takes both these items and returns to the first level.

Svaroch cannot read, but Common and Undercommon share an alphabet '" the two languages have a common root.  Kraashgar skims to an entry with a drawing of a redcap and speaks the strange words; Svaroch translates them into Goblin.  Our hero discovers from the book that redcap teeth are very valuable, that the fey increase in power the more they kill (filling their caps with blood), and that they are remarkably hardy creatures, susceptible only to weapons of cold iron.  He hefts the heavy mace in both hands.

He is still reading when the other redcaps return, yellow eyes glinting in the dark.  The creep into the first level, but Cromn notices them and the three prepare for combat.

This time the fight is much easier.  Kraashgar's mace proves effective against the redcaps, and between the three of them they manage to slay the two remaining fey without suffering excessive injury. Thoughtfully Kraashgar plucks the a tooth from the dead fey, and one from each of those upstairs.

'There, we got rid of those damn sprites,' Kraashgar says to Svaroch.  'Will you take us to the hill giants now?'

'Very well.  I will lead you to their camp, though I cannot accompany you further '" the giants would skin me alive.'[/ic] [ooc]Kraashgar leveled up at the end of this episode, becoming a 4th level warrior.  He increased his Con by 1 point and split his skill points between Climb and Jump.  He rolled a 4 for his HP, putting his total HP at 24 (when fully healed).

At level 5 or 6 I will allow him to take his first PC level (probably fighter or rogue), as the campaign may shortly enter a new phase.[/ooc]

[ic=Episode 39: Diplomacy]Kraashgar and Cromn approach the hill giant camp cautiously.  Kraashgar drinks a potion of Charisma given to him by Caustic beforehand.  They enter the camp; Cromn snarls something in Giant by way of greeting.

There are six of them: massive, squat creatures, eleven feet tall, even hunched.  They would look down even on Obraxus.  They are huge of girth and of smell, exuding a stench as of poorly tanned firs, alcohol, and general uncleanness.  Their skin is mottled, dirty, and hairy, their faces simian and almost chinless; they are garbed in poorly tanned furs, hides, leathers, and bits of stitched-together cloth, and they carry tree-trunk clubs and weapons of bone or stone.  Their eyes are tiny and black, and they sport lice-ridden, matted beards.  The gang hunch around a campfire, cooking what look like whole skewered sheep.  When they speak they do so with a slurred, mumbled tongue.

'Heh, damn yokels, I can barely understand their dialect,' Cromn grunts in Undercommon.  'They're asking what we want, why they shouldn't eat us.'

'Tell them we can promise them many riches,' Kraashgar says.  'Four gold pieces a week, and all the mutton and ale they can consume.  Keep it simple.'

Cromn and one of the giants converse.  Something one of them says makes the other giants laugh.

'They ask, whose riches?  The little one's?  And what would they have to do.'

'Those of an Ogre Mage, Obraxus, who dwells in the old dwarf stronghold in the mountains.  We are his servants.  He would have them be his servants also '" as warriors.'

Cromn relates this.  The hill giants speak amongst themselves.  One speaks to Cromn again.

'Their leader says that they will join you, but first you must perform a task to show that they can trust you,' Cromn translates.  'There is a flock of harpies that dwell in the mountains above these hills, in a cave too small for giants to enter.  A week ago, they stole the one called Klet's fingerpick for his banjo.'

Kraashgar notice the banjo in question: a huge instrument of wood and raw hides.  It leans against a log, unused.

'The giants have tried to retrieve the fingerpick, but the harpies are cunning.  They use their song to lure the giants into ravines and off cliffs, and fly out of range of their rocks.  One of the giants will bring you to the harpies' lair: you must get the fingerpick back.  Then you will have earned their trust, and they will return with us.'

Kraashgar sighs.  There's always something, isn't there?

'Fine, I'll do it.  How are they going to bring me up there?  Am I getting a piggyback?'

Cromn translates and the giants laugh again, boomingly, then speak once more.

'Klet says, follow Borl.  He will take you up to the mountains.'

The hill giant called Borl stands up and gestures that Kraashgar and Cromn follow him.  He leads the pair round the side of the giant's camp to what looks to be a cave entrance, blocked by a massive boulder.  Borl grits his yellow teeth and heaves the boulder aside, then steps into the cave '" he doesn't even need to duck.

Inside, a huge beast much larger even than the giants scuttles to and fro, tethered to the ground with enormous chains.  It combines the most repulsive aspects of a gargantuan wasp and a bat, with leathery wings but an insectile head.  An enormous saddle has been fixed to its thorax.  Borl grumbles something

'He says you're going to ride this with one of them,' Cromn says.  'They'll take you up into the mountains, far enough away that the harpies won't detect you, with any luck.'[/ic]

[ic=Episode 39: In the Harpy Caves]Borl the hill giant and the goblin Kraashgar soar through the night sky on a spider-eater, into the mountains and towards the caves of the harpies.  Clouds swirl around them; the air is chill and damp.  Suddenly Borl, grunts something unintelligible and points.  Kraashgar squints to see a pair of small, dark shapes heading towards them rapidly.  Borl fishes a throwing-rock out of his bag.

As the beasts near Kraashgar sees that they are bizarre hybrids of Overworld beasts: strange mixtures of horses and feathered, beaked monsters.  They swoop towards the spider-eater, cawing loudly.  Kraashgar takes careful aim with his pistol '" he has little ammunition left '" and fires, hitting one of the hippogriff's wings.  Borl hurls a rock but goes wide '" and then the hippogriffs are upon them.

They circle, swoop, and dive, raking at the spider eater and its riders.  The wounded beast singles out Kraashgar and claws at the goblin with its talons and slashing the goblin's face.  Kraashgar yells in pain and attacks with his newly-acquired heavy mace, hitting the creature on the beak.

The other hippogriff bits and claws at the spider-eater, which Borl turns deftly.  The monstrous creature lashes out with its sting, stabbing the hippogriff in the chest; the beast goes suddenly rigid and plummets out the sky, paralyzed by venom.  The second hippogriff gives a cry of alarm and swoops immediately down after its mate.  Kraashgar attempts a parting shot but his bullet misses, and the hippogriff is lost in the clouds.

The brief aerial skirmish resolved the spider-eater and its riders near the mountains and descend to a broad, flat expanse of rock where they can land safely.  Borl and Kraashgar dismount, the goblin scrambling and jumping down nimbly without aid.  The hill-giant points to a winding path of sorts that clings to the mountainside and grumbles something in Giant: our hero assumes this indicates the way to the harpy caves.  Rubbing his limbs against the cold he sets out.

The path is uneven and treacherous.  Kraashagr must climb several times, leap across a chasm, and balance his way along perilously narrow ledges.  At last he spots a cave-entrance up ahead, half-hidden by cloud.  As he watches a dark, winged shape emerges and alights; Kraashgar hastily hides himself behind a boulder and waits for the harpy to disappear into the clouds before continuing.

The entrance to the caves is a low, moss-draped tunnel that a giant would have to crawl through to enter.  It exudes a smell as of spoilt meat. Kraashgar considers using his potion of Invisibility but decides to keep this as a last resort '" no sense in using resources unnecessarily.  He creeps into the cave, down a narrow passage to a vertical shaft that plummets into darkness below.  Our hero climbs slowly down, using creepers and rough handholds and footholds to make his descent.  At the bottom is another natural tunnel; Kraashgar can hear snoring sounds from within.

Using the utmost stealth our hero slinks down the tunnel and finds himself in a large cave.  A morbid nest made of twigs, filth, and small bones of forest animals and what might be gnomes dominates the chamber.  Several large, glossy eggs are nestled inside the nest.  A large, fat harpy slumbers atop, her leathery wings folded about her, snoring loudly.  Kraashgar wrinkles his nose in distaste and edges around the harpy, towards one of the two exits.

In the next chamber two scrawny harpies tear at the half-rotten carcass of a horse, stuffing flesh and guts into their mouths and chewing noisily.  The floor is covered in bones which would crunch underfoot.  Though Kraashgar sees another tunnel leading downwards from the feast-chamber he doesn't want to risk alerting the harpies to his presence, so he retreats back to the nest room and once again skirts the edge, creeping this time into the second tunnel.

Jackpot, our hero thinks, as he enters the next rough cave.  A heap of treasure lies in the center of the chamber: a smattering of coins is evident, along with several rusted weapons of human or dwarf make, some bits of armor, and some pieces of jewelry.  Kraashagr gleefully begins to dig through the pile.  He extracts several valuable-looking items, including a shimmering mail shirt he suspects is made of mithril and a broach with an amethyst inset.  He also finds the fingerpick in the trove: a huge thing bigger than his head, carved from a human hip-bone.  He straps the pick awkwardly to his back and heads out.

The sleeping harpy matriarch ignores him and our hero begins to scramble up the cliffs.  He has just pulled himself over the lip of the shaft, back towards the exit, when he hears the sound of beating wings and sees a shadow darken the tunnel up ahead.  Hastily he conceals himself as best he can, secreting himself in a narrow cleft in the wall. The harpy passes by, muttering to itself absently: it does not detect him.  Kraashgar waits for it to get further into the lair before he sprints to the exit and back out into the cold moonlight.[/ic]

[ic=Episode 40: Wyvern vs. Spider-Eater]Kraashgar scrambles down the mountainside back towards the hill giant Borl.  The giant grins toothily when the goblin appears, presenting the fingerpick he stole from the harpy caves.  Borl mounts the spider-eater again, followed by Kraashgar, and the beast alights.

They soar once again over mountainous, rugged country.  Kraashgar grimly fights the near overwhelming agoraphobia that accompanies this experience.

The spider-eater is nearing the hill giant camp when something huge and scaled materializes out of the cloud '" much larger than the hippogriffs they encountered earlier.  It is a reptilian monstrosity: leathery-winged, with a barbed tail and sharp fangs.  The draconic beast swoops down towards the spider-eater, while Borl attempts evasive maneuvers.

The creature is too close, too fast.  It swats at the spider-eater with its tail and rakes with its talons; Kraashgar is nearly thrown from the saddle.  Our hero aims his pistol at the creature's head and fires, inflicting a wound just above its eye and producing a bellowing, foul-smelling roar.  Borl hurls a rock, which batters the monster's scales.

The wyvern lashes out with its stinger tail, but the spider-eater avoids the attack.  Borl pulls back on the reigns, so that the wyvern flies ahead; then, digging his stirrups into their mount's thorax, he provokes the spider-eater to thrust forth its abdomen, equipped with its own sting.  The sting pierces the wyvern's hide and the beast shrieks, but resist the venom.  It squirms in the air, away from the spider-eater, preparing for another flyby.  Kraashgar takes careful aim again, this time for the wyvern's underbelly, and fires a second shot.  His bullet hits again, and the wyvern hisses as blood gushes from the wound.  The creature banks sharply and flaps away, deterred by the spider-eater and its riders.

At last Borl and Kraashgar return to the camp.  While Borl puts the spider-eater back in its den Kraashgar saunters towards the campfire, holding the fingerpick in both hands.

Klet rumbles with obvious pleasure at the sight of his fingerpick and plucks the massive thing from Kraashgar's hands.  He speaks in Giant, addressing the goblin directly '" before he had always spoken to Cromn.

'He says thank you,' Cromn translates.  'They'll come with us now.  But first we must stay '" for supper and a drink.'

The hill giants produce massive bottles of homebrewed moonshine, while Klet breaks into an impromptu victory ballad.  Much meat and drink are consumed, and our hero becomes quite intoxicated.  The entirety of the gang agrees to accompany Kraashgar and Cromn back to the dungeon; Borl releases the spider-eater into the wild and the band assembles.  Kraashgar is given his much-desired piggyback by one of the giants on the walk up to the Lair '" being incapable of walking in a straight line himself.[/ic][ooc]This is about as cheerful as the campaign is going to get.  The proverbial excrement hits the fan next episode.[/ooc]

[ic=Episode 41: Cahoots!]Things have returned to a sort of normalcy in the dungeon.  Gloamwood has been taken care of, no adventurers have shown up in some time, and the Lair has been protected against future Gearhead Clan attacks, after our hero sapped the tunnels they used to infiltrate the complex and recruited a gang of hill giants to act as gate guards.  Kraashgar was well compensated for his efforts with the hill giants, and after another week of guard duty he has another payday.  He re-stocks on bullets at the armory, still replete with blackpowder weapons after the raid on the dwarf caravan.

After a week our hero is sent down to Skelus' workshop to help the kobold maintain some of the lower level traps.  The chuul under the illusory-floor trap on level four needs feeding: Kraashgar needs to go down to the level four storage caves, then trek down to level five to feed the beast.  Welcoming a task that doesn't involve him risking life and limb (for a change), Kraashgar heads down to the caverns the dungeon denizens use for storage, passing the statue-hall and the rom with what he now recognizes as a warped, sinister tree, and finds a few crates of chuul-food '" principally rotten eggs and fish.  He holds his nose against the stink and hauls the chuul-food down to the next level, where he feeds the slavering beast.  On the way he passes the fountain room and several other chambers.

Kraashgar is heading back from the chuul's pit to the upper levels when he hears a voice coming from the fountain room '" high and nasal.  The door has been shut again; our hero tiptoes up to it and opens it a crack.

'Thollom?  Thollom, are you there?'

Chalcesze the beholder and his minion, Nhazgar, stand with their backs to the door from which the goblin spies.  Both are looking into the fountain.

'Ah yes, you're coming in nice and clear,' the beholder says.  'I had Obraxus send some little runt down to clean the fountain so that we could communicate without all that filth clouding the water.  Now: is everything ready?'

Our hero hears the Slaad Thollom's voice, though he is not in the room.  It seems to be emanating from the fountain-water.

'Yes, all is, ahem, prepared,' the Slaad replies.  His voice sounds deeper than usual: perhaps an effect of the magic.

'I see that your metamorphosis is nearly complete,' Chalsecze continues.  'Has anyone noticed?'

'I don't think so.  Is Mordant in position?'

'I'm about to let her through now; she's chomping at the bit!  She's absolutely delighted at the prospect of destroying her sister and her, ah, aquatic masters won't begrudge her a little revenge, so long as she takes care of Obraxus for them as well.  How are the defenses?'

'Just as planned.  Obraxus has most of the guards on the third level, in case of another dwarf attack.  How did you manage to arrange that, by the way?  The timing was superb!'

'Well, let's just say I have eyes everywhere,' Chalsceze chortles.  'And a certain doppelganger under my employ has been impersonating the Gearhead Clan Chief for over a month.  I simply gave the word, and they were battering down the gates.'

'Your genius never fails to amaze.'

'I try.  Now: wake up your little pets, I'm heading to the portal.  We're going to crush that big blue oaf like an insect!'

'And the flayers?'

'With Obraxus' Lair fallen and mine under Mordant's control as well the flayers won't pose a real threat; there aren't enough of them down there to put up much of a fight, and their grimlocks are miners, not warriors.  By the time the illithids arrive in force the entire dungeon will be secure.'

'Alright; I shall prepare my creations.'

'Excellent.'

Chalsezce begins to float away, Nhazgar in tow.  They head down the corridor.  Kraashgar stares after them in horror.

Alright, I've got to do somethingabout this.  He drinks his leftover potion of Invisibility and opens the door to creep after the beholder and his major domo.  He follows them to the room with the inactive portal which he noticed much earlier '" a free-standing doorway carven with ornate, alien glyphs.

Kraashgar watches as Chalsezce speaks an incantation in a vile tongue, and the inert portal kindles to life.  The glyphs around it light up and the air in the portal shimmers, then solidifies: now the door looks into a vast cavern of some kind.  A monstrous creature with the lower body of a massive spider and the upper body of a statuesque drow woman steps daintily through, accompanied by a pair of hideous undead with long, cartilaginous tongues.

'Chalsezce,' she says, smiling slightly.

'Mordant,' Chalsezce greets the drider.  'Is my little escape route prepared?'

'All is in order.  My masters will convey you safely through the necropolis to Phagn'Yath.'

'Ah, thank you.  And may I say '" a nice touch using the slaves taken on the Gloamwood raid as the spearhead of your undead army.  I always appreciate poetic irony, and besides, zombies are so much more durable than skeletons, don't you think?'

Mordant merely smiles.  She steps aside and the beholder floats through the portal to the other side; then the drider scuttles further into the room and begins to speak orders in drow.  Undead begin shambling into the portal room en masse.[/ic]

[ooc]Time for another of these, I think.  A full cast of characters can be found in the first post.[/ooc] [ic=The Story So Far]Our hero, the goblin Kraashgar, finds himself a pawn in some unfathomable game of chess, played by shadowy (and tentacled) opponents, the sinister masters of the Great Below.  After fleeing from the remnants of his decimated home-cavern '" his entire tribe slaughtered by four adventurers '" our hero made his way to the cosmopolitan troglodyte-run town of Ool-Nacha (a former duergar outpost); on his way he snuck through a kobold fungal village, evaded trolls and grimlock slavers, and hitched a ride with an ettercap named Ysshera in exchange for a kuo-toan holy symbol he discovered in an abandoned shrine.  

Wounded, Kraashgar sought aid at a temple of Dagon, solving their stirge problem in exchange for healing.  He then set about making some money and better equipping himself, betting at the local fighting pits (run by the troglodyte boss Rancid) and eventually staggering into the Blind Beholder tavern, a seedy establishment run by a roper named Shub.  Here he attracted the attention of a tiefling called Alastor, after killing a drunken derro in a knife-fight.  Alastor recommended that Kraashgar look for work with an Ogre Mage, Obraxus, and so after a meal and a rest our hero sought out the orc Grognash, Obraxus' recruiter.  While in Ool-Nacha Kraashgar also caught a glimpse of an aboleth, pulled in a massive aquarium-like tank by a troop of Skum towards the slave-markets.

Hired by Grognash (after slaying a svirfneblin zombie as a practical test), Kraashgar was escorted via Mazinkor's Shaft to the dungeon lair of Obraxus by the barghest Veth, encountering magmins en route.  He discovered that the dungeon is close to the surface, a former stronghold of the Gearehad Clan of dwarves, built over a series of old mithril mines run by mind flayers, one of the most powerful factions of the Underdark.

After being introduced to his new boss, Obraxus, and a few of the other dungeon denizens Kraashgar was quickly put to work resetting the traps on the first level, which have all been activated after a messy adventurer incursion.  Resetting the traps required a great deal of legwork and ingenuity, and during the process Kraashgar was forced to get a wand of Detect Magic recharged by a Gray Slaad named Thollom, who sublets a laboratory from Obarxus.  The Slaad has Kraashgar seek out an escaped experiment '" a cyborg grig '" that fled to the ventilation shafts of the dungeon.  Kraashgar captured the grig and overheard an interesting conversation while doing so, between Obraxus and a beholder called Chalsecze who rents the bottom levels of the stronghold, just below Obraxus.  He also learned that a surface town called Gloamwood has been hiring adventuring parties to slay Obraxus and clean out the dungeon.

Our hero finished resetting the traps '" and just in time.  A party of adventurers (Tul, Kenneth, and Cal) stormed the dungeon.  Their rogue, Tul, was squashed by a crushing room trap, but their sorcerer, Kenneth, cast Charm Person on Kraashgar and had the goblin lead them deeper into the dungeon.  Fortunately the drow wizardess Casutic, Obraxus' second in command, destroyed the remaining two party members with a maximized Acid Fog spell.

After being debriefed Kraashgar is sent to clean out the fifth level fountains, which have been befouled by their use as a bathing pool by the dungeon's gnolls.  While cleaning the fountains Kraashgar met Chalsezce (and his servant Nhazgar the duergar) in person, who gave our hero a small ring of protection as a (very generous) tip for cleaning the fountain: a small, gold ring set with a gemstone that looks like a staring eye.

On his next shift Kraashgar was summoned to the front hall of the dungeon.  To redeem himself for nearly helping the adventurers deeper into the dungeon he is sent on a surface raid targeting a caravan bringing dwarf-made firearms (manufactured by the Gearhead Clan, who still want to get their stronghold back from Obraxus and the mind flayers).  Led by a neogi called Zetch and his Umber Hulk bodyguard and slave, Mr. Pincer, Kraashgar and a band of other raiders, including the gnoll Wrask and the troglodyte Xug, successfully ambushed the caravan, fighting dwarf ghouls and forest gnomes on the way.  They also took captive a dwarf named Brogg, to interrogate about Gearhead plans and defenses.

On their way back to the dungeon a worg, Svaroch, leapt onto a forest path and seized Brogg.  The worg was injured by Kraashgar (with a newly acquired flintlock pistol) but disappeared into the undergrowth.  Wrask was able to track the worg by scent, and it has also left a blood-trail; the raiders track it to its den, a burrow.  Only Kraashgar was small enough to get inside, so the goblin scrambled down and quickly discovered Brogg (still tied up) '" and Svaroch.  The worg explained that a local human huntsman killed the rest of his pack, and agreed to give up Brogg in exchange for the man's corpse.  The raiders obliged (Kraashgar himself slitting the man's throat in his sleep, in a cabin not far from the den) and Brogg was delivered.  Back in the dungeon, Kraashgar shaved part of the dwarf's beard off in way of vengeance.

Back in the dungeon, Kraashgar was given a new task: exorcising a ghost haunting level two.  After doing another favor for Thollom (gathering parts for an experiment of the Slaad's by using a wand of Reduce on dwarven zombies that lurk in the warded-off crypts of the dungeon) Kraashgar acquired goggles that allowed him to see into the Ethereal Plane and was lent the use of Yoggy, the Gray Slaad's Ethereal Marauder.  It was at this time that our hero first noticed that Thollom was shedding scales, as well.

Kraashgar eventually tracked down the ghost, which turned out to be that of a dwarf named Ulfgar whose grave had been violated.  To lay the spirit to rest Kraashgar sought out the goblin rogue who looted Ulfgar's tomb, a fellow denizen named Skabrat who directed our hero to Kurlok the weaponmaster to retrieve the first item missing from Ulfgar's tomb, a dwarven warhammer.  Kurlok sent Kraashgar to an orc, Morbog, who now wielded the hammer; Kraashgar intimidated the orc into surrendering the weapon by promising that Caustic, a notorious hard-ass, would punish Morbog if he failed to aid in exorcising the ghost.

The other two items were acquired through stealth and subtlety.  Ulfgar's helm was won by a gnoll (killed during the surface raid) in a card-game with Skabrat; Kraashgar convinced the goblin rogue to help him secure the helm from the gnoll's bunk-chest in a lower level barracks.  The third item, a ring, Kraashgar won in a game of chess with a snooty drow dungeon guard, Szor, much to the merriment of the dark elf's usual chess partner, the ogre Cromn.  Kraashgar dispersed the ghost successfully.

A short while later our hero and the rest of the dungeon residents was summoned by Obraxus to the central hall, where the Ogre Mage declared that they were launching a raid on Gloamwood.  They traveled by night to the town and find the gate unlocked and the night guards killed, courtesy of Alastor the tiefling.  Kraashgar, Cromn, Skabrat, Szor, Xug, and Wrask formed a group and loot the town's armory before running amok in the town.  On their way back to the gates they encountered a band of adventurers '" the same four that destroyed Kraashgar's village.  The adventurers killed several of the raiders, including Wrask, who was slain by the gray elf wizard Lucian; the adventuring party lost their fighter, Magnus, to Obraxus himself.  The adventurers escaped via Dimension Door and the raiders returned to the dungeon; Kraashgar recovered Wrask's head, all that was left of the gnoll after the battle.

Upon their return to the dungeon the raiders found the stronghold full of Gearhead dwarves.  Caustic, holed up in a guard-room, was one of the few surviving members of the skeleton guard.  She explained that the dwarves had attacked by surprise.  Kraashgar was sent to check on the dwarf prisoner Brogg and slew him and another dwarf during their escape attempt.  He also gave Wrask's head to Thollom, who was shedding even more scales, revealing darker ones beneath'¦

The dwarves driven out, the dungeon denizens began reinforcing their defenses.  Slaves taken in the Gloamwood raid were sold, and Kraashgar was given the task of sapping the purple worm tunnels that the dwarves used to infiltrate the dungeon.  He was then sent with Cromn to recruit a band of hill giants on the surface to serve as guards for the third level entrance.  After being rescued from a krenshar attack by Svaroch the worg Kraashgar and Cromn helped the creature clean out a nest of redcaps that had been terrorizing the woods; in return, Svaroch showed them the way to the hill giants' hidden camp.  Kraashgar convinced the hill giants to work as guards for Obraxus, earning their trust by retrieving the bone fingerpick of their banjo-playing bard, Klet, from the caves of harpies; he was flown to the caves via the spider-eater pet of the giants, kept by their druid Borl, encountering both hippogriffs and a wyvern en route before returning with the pick.

Now, after feeding the chuul that lurks below an illusory-floor trap on the fourth floor, Kraashgar has overheard a sinister conversation between the beholder Chalsecze and the Gray Slaad Thollom, conducted through fountain water (which Kraashgar himself unwittingly made clear enough to scry through).  It seems that the two beings have been in cahoots for some time, and that many of the events of previous days and weeks have been manipulated to aid their plans.  Chalsezce and Thollom are in league with none other than Caustic's sister and nemesis, the drider Mordant, a necromancer and mercenary servant of the aboleths of the Primal Empire, ancient enemies of the mind flayers with whom Obraxus is allied '" the illithids that still run the mithril mines below the dungeon.  Chalsezce activates a disused portal in the dungeon so that Mordant and her undead minions can enter '" an army composed principally of zombies that were once the inhabitants of Gloamwood, the very slaves taken during Obraxus' raid.  While Chalsezce flees the portal to the aboleth city of Phagn'Yath Mordant and her undead swarm into the dungeon on level five, while Thollom unleashes his fiendish creations on level two; the two forces will converge on level three, where Obraxus and the bulk of the remaining denizens sit unaware.  Kraashgar, having witnessed all of this without being detected, must now warn his boss and the rest of the dungeon of the impending incursion, before it is too late'¦[/ic]

[ic=Episode 42: Emergency Protocols]Kraashgar has seen enough.  Still invisible, our hero rushes from the portal room and through level four, up to the third level.  He bursts into the map room; Caustic is the only one present.

'Caustic!  Caustic!  It's me, Kraashgar!  The dungeon's under attack!'

'What?'  The drow woman frowns, then casts Faerie Fire to outline Kraashgar, followed swiftly by Dispel Magic.   'What are you talking about?  The entrances are guarded; we'd know if we had any adventurers or dwarves incoming.

'Not dwarves, or adventurers!  Undead, on the fifth level, and Thollom's creations on the fourth '" Chalsezce has betrayed us, he's sold us out, now there's an army of undead rampaging through the Lair!'

'Slow down!  Chalsecze, undead, Thollom, what in the Nine Hells are you babbling about?'

'I heard Chalsezce talking to Thollm using the fountain somehow, and then he activated the portal on the fifth level and brought over these undead, being led by some sort of spider-drow woman, and '"'

'Wait, stop '" what was that about a spider-drow?  Did you see a drider?  What was her name?!'

'Mordant, her name was Mordant.'

Caustic utters a curse in Drow.

'We must inform Obraxus, now.  Come with me.'

They head into the hallway outside the map room and come face to face with a mohrg '" one of the grotesque skeletal horrors that had stepped through the portal.  It lashes out with its tongue, striking Kraashgar and dripping a slimy mucus onto his flesh; he feels a numbing sensation but shakes it off and fires his pistol at the thing's torso, where a purple, parasitic organism is coiled like entrails.  He produces a burst of black ichor and begins to reload while Caustic invokes a spell, a thin green ray that strikes the mohrg and reduces it to a pile of cinders.

The two rush through dungeon passages towards Obraxus' conjury and burst in through the doors.  Caustic has Kraashgar swiftly relate everything he heard while she activates the dungeon's alarm systems.  Obraxus snarls in fury.

'Kraashgar, get up to level one and bring everyone down here,' the Ogre Mage bellows.  'Caustic, gather some minions and go take care of that insufferable sister of yours.'

Caustic's eyes narrow.

'I will pluck the legs from her body one by one.'[/ic]

It's getting exciting woo (though I noticed a few spelling errors in your post).

I think I fixed them.  This part was fairly intense - and one of the few sequences I'd had in mind for quite some time (had to improvise how it eventually pans out, which leads to a whole new phase of the campaign).

Right now I'm 5 episodes behind, with only a little over a week left to play before I'm off to the other side of the country for an extended period.  I'm going to squeeze in a little more here and there to try and finish things off somewhat, even if it's not perfectly tidy; I might resume the campaign later, or play by post, or something, but I'll be busy after the summer so any updates would be sporadic at best.  But in the meantime, much more Goblin to come...

Looking forward to more updates!

Think I spotted a typo too: "Now dwarves, or adventurers!" should begin with not instead of now.

EDIT: I see you fixed it already :D

[ic=Episode 43: Abominations]Kraashgar hurls himself up the stairs towards the first level.  Dungeon denizens are stumbling out of their barracks and the mess hall, frowning and looking about for trouble.

'Get to level three,' our hero shrieks.  'Undead!  Lots of them!'

The goblin dashes into the second floor guard room and finds it in a shambles.  Bodies litter the floor.  Standing in the center of the room is a bizarre, reptilian humanoid with four arms, three of them clutching serrated blades, the fourth holding up the shredded remnants of the troglodyte Morkoth '" one of Obraxus' minions.  Kraashgar thinks he remembers seeing this creature in one of Thollom's eerie vats.  He aims his pistol and fires, hitting the horror in the chest; the thing drops Morkoth's corpse and leaps forwards, brandishing its knives.  Our hero dodges back and ducks under the blows, but one slahes him across the arm.  He rolls, whipping out his heavy mace and bringing it down on the creature's skull, dazing it.  While it stumbles back he reloads his pistol and fires a second time.

The monster hisses in pain and begins to fade away, presumably into the Ethereal.  Kraashgar yelps and runs forward, swiping with his mace, but the thing is too incorporeal to hit.

Panting, Kraashgar runs up to the first level guard-room just above to find Skabrat and Xug contending with yet another of Thollom's pets '" a surreal beast with a huge maw, a single foot, and a plethora of grasping limbs.  Even as our hero arrives the red reptile-thing he fought moments ago materializes again, dealing Xug a wound with its dagger.

Together the minions battle the extradimensional monstrosities.  Xug manages to land a blow with his spear in the paler, single-footed creature, while Skabrat and Kraashgar flank the four-armed reptile and finish it off.

'What's going on?!'  Skabrat demands, wiping blood from his short sword.

'Undead.  And these things '" they're from Thollom's lab.  Come on, we have to get everyone from the first level down to level three.'

Skabrat goes to release his pet carrion crawler down the hall while Xug and Kraashgar head to the first level barracks to gather more minions.  They meet Zetch & Mr. Pincer, the kobold weaponmaster Kurlok (his prized masterwork katana in hand) and the ogre Cromn.  Kraashgar rapidly explains the situation.  He is getting tired of repeating himself to everyone he meets.  Kurlok hands him a second pistol and plenty of ammunition '" 'Emergency protocols,' the kobold explains.

'Right, let's move out,' Zetch proclaims, directing Mr. Pincer forwards.  The group heads down the corridor back towards level two '" only to be met by a swarm of zombies and skeletons, accompanied by another mohrg and an even stranger creature: a stitched-together abomination, tattooed with eldritch glyphs.  The flesh golem '" as Zetch identifies it '" has two heads: one of a dwarf, one of a gnoll.  Kraashgar recognizes Wrask and Brogg.  The creature (Brosk?  Wragg?) shambles towards the group, undead scuttling before it.

The battle is brutal.  Mr. Pincer is swarmed by zombies, the human undead weighing him down with sheer numbers.  Kurlok wades in with his blade gleaming, hewing limbs and decapitating undead with clinical efficiency.  Kraashgar and Cromn face off against the mohrg, which lashes out with its tongue and claws.  Briefly Kraashgar finds himself paralyzed by one of its attacks, before Xug revives him with a Remove Paralysis spell.

Halfway through the battle Skabrat reappears, his pet in tow.  The carrion crawler, attracted by the stench of rotting flesh, advances eagerly upon the zombies.  Though its tentacles have no effect on the undead it attracts their attention, freeing up the rest of the combatants.

Cromn destroys the mohrg with a final blow from his greatclub while Kraashgar turns his attention to the flesh golem.  He puts a bullet through the Brogg-head of the creature and a second in the construct's chest '" a pastiche of orc, drow, and dwarf parts stitched haphazardly together.  Kurlok is still hacking at zombies, but between him and the carrion crawler Mr. Pincer has freed himself from the clawing undead swarm.  The Umber Hulk lurches forwards towards the flesh golem, reaching out with a huge, simian hand.  He fastens his paw on the golem's gnoll-head and rips, pulling it free.  The golem still dances about, confused but intact, until it is overwhelmed by Kraashgar, Cromn, and Skabrat.

Thoughtfully, Kraashgar hides Wrask's head in a side-room, in case he gets a chance to raise the gnoll at a later date.

The undead and abominations dispatched, the group heads down towards the third level'¦[/ic]

[ic=Episode 44: Endgame?]The group of dungeon denizens passes down to the second level, making their way towards the third.  They are about to descend a flight of steps when a voice behind them makes them turn.

Thollom the Slaad darkens the passage behind them, but he is no longer gray '" he is black.

'And just where do you think you're going?'  Thollom asks.

'He's metamorphosed,' Zetch says.  'He's become a Death Slaad!  I never trusted that slimy newt'¦'

Thollom grins '" an eerie sight.  The Slaad utters a guttural syllable and a bolt of black energy hurtles towards the group.  It connects with the neogi Zetch and the creature twitches, its legs curling inwards, like a dying spider.  Zetch falls from Mr. Pincer's head, lifeless.

Mr. Pincer screams in rage.  Even freed from its psychic enslavement the creature retains loyalty to its master: long years of servitude have taught it nothing else.  It barrels towards the Death Slaad, mandibles clacking.  Kraashgar, Xug, Cromn, Skabrat, and Kurlok watch as the two plough into one another, Thollom already speaking a second spell.  There is a blast of red light, then the sound of the ceiling collapsing.  Dust billows down the hall.  When it clears, our heroes can see that the entire corridor has collapsed: they are cut off from the Overworld.  Whether Mr. Pincer or Thollom survived the collapse they cannot be certain.

'Let's move forward,' Kraashgar proclaims grimly.  They pass down into lower halls.

In the second level main hall they find Caustic and her sister Mordant dueling, backed up by a few dungeon minions '" including Morbog and one of the hill giants '" and a pack of undead, respectively.  The sisters fling spells at one another while cursing in Drow; most of their efforts are deflected through counterspells or spell resistance.  Kraashgar aims a shot at Mordant and fires: his bullet hits her ear, tearing part of it away.  Momentarily distracted the drider breaks off her concentration, giving Caustic enough time to loose a spell properly.  A cloud of acid congeals around Mordant, eating away at her flesh.

'Get down to Obraxus,' Caustic commands in Undercommon.  'I can take Mordant!'

Obligingly our heroes skirt the battle in the hall, firing off shots as they go.  Kurlok, equipped with Gearhead-made explosives, lobs a bomb into a horde of zombies, destroying half a dozen in a single blast.

They pass down through the dungeon corridors, towards the lower entrance hall.  Down a side passage Kraashgar spots a mind flayer and a pair of grimlocks from the lower level mines fighting off undead.  Remnants of battles between the invaders and the dungeon denizens are everywhere in evidence.  Though there are at least four or five zombies or skeletons dead for each dungeon inhabitant killed the intruders seem to have numbers on their side, and the Lair residents are taking heavy losses.

At last the group arrives in the lower hall.  Obraxus and three of the remaining hill giants, including Klet and Borl, face off against the bulk of the undead horde.  In a corner, zombies feast on the flesh of a slain giant, and a second lies face-down in a huge pool of blood.  Obraxus is laying waste to the massed undead ranks with his massive black greatsword and the giants are likewise holding their own, but a gang of mohrgs are proving resilient.

Our hero leaps into the fray, his companions close behind.  Kurlok is a whirlwind of scaly, silvery death; Xug is exhausting every spell in his repertoire; Cromn batters undead away with his massive club; Skabrat slashes at zombies with his blades.  Kraashgar, toting two pistols, fires his weapons intermittently.  Together the ragtag band begins to whittle away at the marauding horde.

And then something darkens the entranceway.  A huge shape enters the hall, cadaverous and menacing, as large as one of the hill giants.  Strands of embalmed flesh hang from its bones, and its ribcage gapes hideously open.  Trapped within is a tiny figure which Kraashgar recognizes as Skelus, the dungeon trapsmith.  The kobold squirms to and fro, its undead captor's ribs holding it in like prison bars.

'A devourer!'  Xug exclaims, with a mixture of fear and awe.

Kraashgar fires off a shot as this new horror and hits it in the chest.  The devourer laughs deeply, and a spectral hand materializes before it.  The clawed hand seeks out one of the hill giants and crushes him; the giant groans in pain as his flesh blisters and his life essence is leeched from his body.

Mordant now scuttles into view; there is no sign of Caustic, but the drider's face is badly scarred, pocked from acid spells.  She exhibits a perverse expression of cruelty, anger, and immense satisfaction, then losses a spell at Obraxus.

The spell never connects.  The Ogre Mage, roaring wordlessly, transmutes himself into a cloud of bluish gas, which drifts up to the ceiling and into an arrow slit in one of the archer's galleries.  Mordant swears violently and presses forward.

'Uh, Kraashgar '" ' Skabrat says, as the undead begin to press close against them.  Our heroes are surrounded by the horde.  'What are we going to do?'

Kurlok and Cromn are holding back the oncoming horde while Xug frantically heals and casts augmentation spells, but things look grim.  Behind them, the door beckons.  They might be able to fight their way to the doors and out into the Great Below.  After all, Obraxus fled'¦

But something has awakened in Kraashgar: a spirit of true heroism, perhaps.  Defiance flickers in his red eyes, and a mindless courage fills his heart.

'Not this time,' the goblin's companions hear him say.  'No more running and hiding!'

Our hero empties his pistols into the undead horde, then draws his mace.  With a leap that belies his small stature Kraashgar jumps atop the zombies, using them like stepping stones.  The undead groan and claw at him, but he evades their grasping hands and makes a final jump, proplling himself through the air towards the drider, Mordant, mace raised in both hands.  A goblin battle-cry on his lips, he lands the blow, smashing Mordant in the face.  She shrieks in pain and utters a spell; Kraashgar is suddenly unable to move, held in place by an unseen force.

Mordant begins to laugh.  Her hand is contorted into a claw: she holds Kraashgar at a distance.  The goblin flails furiously, swinging his mace back and forth in futility.

'What remarkable spirit,' the drider says.  'You are an uncommonly courageously goblin.  Perhaps my employers will find a suitable use for you.'

She hurls the goblin into a swarm of the remaining mohrgs.  In a moment Kraashgar is on his feet, bashing with his mace at the nearest undead, but their tongues flicker out.  There are too many to resist.  Our hero succumbs to their paralyzing secretions, and everything goes black'¦[/ic][ooc]Plenty of stuff to come.

I ruled that Kraashgar's display of suicidal bravery was sufficient for him to qualify for "true heroism," so he took his first PC level (a level of fighter) at the beginning of the next session.[/ooc]

[ic=Episode 45: Fetters]Kraashgar awakes in chains.  He is in a dank, slimy chamber, lightless, along with bedraggled group of his comrades.  The room is quite large and round, with no exits save for a round hole in the floor, filled with water.  He and the rest '" which include Kurlok, Cromn, Szor, Skabrat, and Xug '" are perched on a kind of shelf surrounding this pit; other individuals, likewise shackled, are evident in the room as well.

A sudden grinding sound can be heard from the pit, and moments later four powerfully built humanoids with membranous skin rise out of the water.  They stand on an elevator, which eventually fits flush with the floor.  One of the creatures croaks something in a hideous-sounding tongue, and the other three move forward, rounding up the prisoners.  Kraashgar, Kurlok, Cromn, and a bugbear are selected and herded onto the elevator; when Cromn tries to resist one of the humanoids thumps him hard with a spear-shaft and prods him onwards.  The ogre, his arms manacled together and his legs fettered, cannot fight back properly; the gaolors have sharp claws and teeth, and weapons.

The four prisoners and the humanoids step onto the elevator, where one of the gaolors activates a glyph on a console.  The elevator descends down a shaft '" no water rushes in to fill it.  Eventually the lift comes to a stop, and the prisoners are herded out into a huge chamber with slime-covered, glyph-etched walls, dominated by a massive glass cylinder.  A hideous fish-like creature of enormous size is suspended in the cylinder: it has three glossy eyes and several long tentacles.  It looks as if the cylinder has exits in its ceiling and floor.

Kraashgar thinks back to Ool-Nacha: he aw one of these creatures before, being drawn in a massive glass aquarium through the markets by the same web-footed humanoids.  He remembers an enormous weight on his mind, a questing presence.  Abruptly he feels a similar presence again.

The massive, fish-like horror swims before our hero, gazing down with three bulbous eyes.  Kraashagr feels the massive presence enter his mind, rasping at the inside of hisskull.  A voice fills the room '" though whether it is in his head or in the air, he does not know.  The voice resonates with authority and impossible age.

'I am Holsuth Phagn'Neysugg, Second Stage Savant, Consul of the Primal Empire,' the voice says.  'Know then that I am your Master.  You shall obey me in all respects.  You shall not question my orders.  You shall not attempt to escape.  You shall serve me with complete and utter loyalty.

'Know that I am generous to those that serve me well and unforgiving to those that rebel.  The obedient may be granted the gift of Union.  The disobedient will be used for Incubation.'

The thing in the glass cylinder moves subtly and a cloud of thick, yellowish gas is released from orifices along its body.  The sallow vapor is sucked by hidden machines from the water and then slowly pumped into the air around you.  It smells disgusting, like rotten fish.

'Now.  Inhale the mucus gas.  Breathe in the yellow fume.  Let it fill your lungs.  Do not resist.'

Kraashgar finds the order impossible to resist.  He inhales and begins to cough and choke.  He feels the gas inside his lungs, and suddenly he cannot breath.  As he splutters, one of the membranous humanoids activates a glyph on another console, and circular sluices in the ceiling and walls dilate.  Water begins filling the room.  When it rises above our hero's head he finds he can breathe again.  Prsently, the fish-thing continues to speak.

'Out of water, those of my ilk will die.  To save ourselves, we enter a process of suspended animation, succumbing to a state called The Long Dreaming.

'During The Long Dreaming our skin forms a tough, hardened membrane to seal in moisture while our minds become sluggish and inactive.  Aboleths in this state are helpless.  If the membrane is pierced, the moisture within leaks out, and the aboleth within will die.

 'One of my kindred, Rhan'Taikol, First Stage Savant, was beached in a cavern not far from Phagn'Yath. We received our last telepathic message from Rhan seven hours ago.

'We suspect that Rhan'Taikol has entered the Long Dreaming.  Your task will be to retrieve him.  My Skum servitor Ithilax will be your Overseer.  He speaks with my Voice.  You will obey him.'

One of the Skum moves forwards.  Kraashgar's fetters are removed, and the chain is removed from his manacles.  Glyphs on the manacles that were previously inert glow with green light, and our hero feels suddenly strong '" much, much stronger than normal.  He also realizes that he cannot disobey the thing's commands, as much as he might like to.  The sensation is quite different than being Charmed: where a Charm made Kraashgar the friend of the half-elf sorcerer Kenneth and thus amenable to his suggestions, he still possessed free will.  In contrast, the aboleth Holsuth's psychic domination is overwhelming.  He finds his horror, disgust, and hatred for the being no less intense than before his domination, but he cannot bring himself to disobey the commands he has been given.  He will not escape: he cannot.

Another of the Skum enters the chamber and hands all the slaves a barbed shortspear.

'This way,' Ithilax proclaims, pointing to a round door halfway up one smooth, slimy wall.  Kraashgar and the rest of his team swim up towards the door, and out into the city of Phagn'Yath.[/ic][ooc]I used a free online text-->voice program and sound editing software to replicate as best I could the creepy voice of the Guild Navigator (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mGygaPaneIo) (about 4:20 into the video) from David Lynch's Dune.  I was trying to evoke the navigator and the Advisors (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SJR96XPU6G4&feature=related) from HL2 for the aboleth.[/ooc]

QuoteI ruled that Kraashgar's display of suicidal bravery was sufficient for him to qualify for "true heroism," so he took his first PC level (a level of fighter) at the beginning of the next session.

Oh no! He's sold out! :o

Note: Catching up reading.

Yeah, the warrior thing was fun, but he's not a minion per se anymore, and the campaign is entering its final phase (about 15 more episodes, I estimate), so I decided to give him a power boost.  Group fights will start to be more fun now, since Kraashgar can really pull his weight instead of fighting low-level opponents while his burlier companions do most of the work.

[ic=Episode 46: Blood Frenzy]The aboleth city is a thing from a nightmare.  Coiled spires and pillars thrust upwards from the dim, greenish murk below; huge gantries and bulbous, cyclopean domes erupt in grotesque, towering profusion, like tumorous growths on the ocean floor.  Aboleths, Skum, kuo-toans, slaves, and small, biomechanical submersibles flit to and fro, passing under massive arches and in and out of the hideous, palatial structures.

Kraashgar notices a glyph tattoo on his arm is glowing, and also that he is not freezing.  He is aware that the water is incredibly cold, but somehow the temperature does not affect him.

'This way,' Ithilax gurgles.  The command is irresistible: since Holsuth Phagn'Neysugg ordered Kraashgar and his companions to obey the Skum's orders he is powerless to disobey.  The servitor swims through the city, slaves in tow.  They weave in and out of the city, passing through surreal thoroughfares clotted with marine traffic and seaweed, till eventually a huge cliff appears out of the murk '" the outer edge of Phagn-Yath.  Ithilax directs them to a small tunnel set in the cliff's surface.

'Rhan'Taikol was beached somewhere in this cave complex,' the overseer says.  'We will find our way to the surface, then split into two groups to investigate.  For now we shall stay together.  Come.'

They enter the cave.  The tunnel slopes upwards, still filled with water.  Ithilax guides them deeper into the underwater warren.  They have ascended through several sets of tunnels when the Skum tastes the water with his tongue.

'Something up ahead '" careful.'  His suspicions are confirmed when a javelin hurtles out of the darkness, towards the group; it passes harmlessly by, but four dark shapes appear shortly after.  The creatures are scaled, greenish humanoids with rows of sharp teeth and bulbous fish-eyes: not dissimilar to Skum or kuo-toans, but more reptilian.  Where the aboleths' creations and the frogfolk resemble amphibians, these creatures are fish-like.

'Sahuagin!'  Ithilax proclaims, as the fish-things attack.  "Destroy them - the sea devils must not be permitted to escape!"

Each slave takes a sahuagin, while Ithilax lingers in the rear.  Kraashgar aims a swipe with his shortspear and draws blood, but receives a nasty bite in return.  The water is stained red as both combatants blood billows into the air.  The sahuagin becomes frenetic as the blood swirls around them.  It launches itself into a frenzy, clawing at our hero and wounding him badly with its razor-sharp claws and teeth.  Kraashgar yells in pain, bubbles escaping from his mouth, and jabs again with his spear.  This time he thrsust with enough vigor to impale the sahuagin, killing it instantly as his spearhead penetrates its heart.  He turns and hurls his spear at the nearest sahuagin, finishing off one that Kurlok was dealing with.  Cromn and the bugbear seem to have handled their own opponents, though all of the slaves have taken wounds: without armor almost any blow is an injury.

'Onwards!'  Ithilax orders, himself untouched.  The group swims upwards, deeper into the caves.[/ic]

Very Minor comments:

In the Redcap issue:

>>'Very well. I will lead you to their camp, though I can accompany you no further '" the giants would skin me alive.'

*I cannot

QuoteOur investigates the top floor but finds it empty and desolate, strewn with rubble and crumbling statuary. He heads down to the bottom floor, accompanied by Svaroch and Cromn, and with an effort hefts the trapdoor back. He descends a ladder into a cellar below, pistol in hand, loaded now with a normal bullet. He is perilously low on ammunition, and curses himself for not picking up more from Kurlok.

Dust and cobwebs are thick in the cellar. Kraashgar sees large wooden kegs and shelves with old wine-bottles, as well as a large wooden chest, slowly gathering dust, padlocked. He hears a chittering sound and looks up, is horrified by a massive spider crouched in a huge web on the ceiling. He aims a shot and blows the giant arachnid's head apart; it falls to the ground, legs twitching and contracting.

Kraashgar puts a couple of wine bottles in his satchel, then heads over to the chest. After a couple of tries he busts the rusty padlock off with his morningstar. Inside the chest he finds a heavy iron mace and a weight book written in Common and scrawled with notes and pictures of faerie creatures. Our hero takes both these items and returns to the first level.

*Our hero investigates (instead of "our investigates")
*Weighty (not weight) book

Quote from: Steerpike!A week ago, they stole the one called Klet's fingerpick for his banjo.'

Kraashgar notice the banjo in question: a huge instrument of wood and raw hides. It leans against a log, unused.

'The giants have tried to retrieve the fingerpick, but the harpies are cunning.

This is hilarious. :)
Hillbilly Giants!

Quote from: Light Dragon>>'Very well. I will lead you to their camp, though I can accompany you no further '" the giants would skin me alive.'

*I cannot

Wouldn't that make it a double negative?

QuoteKraashgar awakes in chains. He is in a dank, slimy chamber, lightless, along with bedraggled group of his comrades. The room is quite large and round, with no exits save for a round hole in the floor, filled with water. He and the rest '" which include Kurlok, Cromn, Szor, Skabrat, and Xug '" are perched on a kind of shelf surrounding this pit; other individuals, likewise shackled, are evident in the room as well.

Reminds me of the scene in Baldur's Gate.

How long did you have the raid planned out before you started it? I noticed the shedding of the slaadi scales some time back.

---
Ghostman- You are correct... I did not notice the subsequent "no".
Sorry Steerpike.

Tweaked it anyway and did the other fixes, thanks Light Dragon.

Mordant invading was one of the few things I had in mind for quite a while, but I hadn't originally decided that Thollom/Chalsecze were going to be part of it.  I was planning a plot where Thollom changes into a death slaad and goes on a killing spree, but as the end of the campaign started looming I decided to compress events and link up some of the plots I had in mind.

Glad you enjoyed the hillbilly giants.  I had their Giant dialect sound like Boomhauer (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U2M7qVLY_ro&feature=related).

[ic=Episode 47: Covey]The group of newly enthralled aboleth slaves '" including our hero, the goblin Kraashgar '" linger at the surface of an underground lake, waiting for the mucus gas they inhaled earlier to wear off so that they can breathe air once more.  After this transformation the band swim ashore into a small cavern with a muddy, soft floor.  They are led by the Skum overseer Ithilax: a slimy, viciously authoritarian creature with a chip on its shoulder.  The aboleth's servant orders them onwards and they press into a warren of caverns, soon coming to a fork in the path.

'Split into two groups,' Ithilax commands.  'Goblin, bugbear, you form one.  Myself, the kobold, and the ogre will form another.  We'll investigate both tunnels.  Report back here if you find anything, including Rhan'Taikol.'

The group splits up.  There is no chance of Kraashgar attempting to escape: under the aboleth Holsuth Phagn'Neysugg's psychic domination, he is incapable of disobeying its commands, which obviously strictly prohibit any escape attempts.  He and the bugbear creep forwards through the tunnels.  Kraashgar notices that the goblinoid has been grafted with webbed digits and similar augmentations, presumably to make him more amphibious.

'So what's your name, anyway?'  Our hero asks the lumbering thrall.  'I'm Kraashgar.'

'I am called Draug.'

'Uh huh.  So how long you been here?'

'Twenty years.  Soon I hope to be granted Union.'  A look of rapture flits across Draug's face.

'What exactly does that entail?'

'Our Master will caress you with its tentacles,' Draug says, a note of religious ecstasy in his voice.  'Draw you to its bosom, into its loving embrace, where you will be changed.  To be made sacred, almost like Ithilax.'

'Right.  But you're still a thrall?'

'Those given Union no longer breathe the unclean air.  They become the ultimate servants, rather than mere slaves.'

'I see.  Well, good luck with that.'

Draug laughs.  'We are all like you when we arrive.  In time you will come to covet Union, like myself.'

'Well, whatever you say.'

The two come to another branch in the path.  After some investigation Kraashgar finds some drying footprints down the left hand path, which they take.  Soon after they hear voices in a throaty, croaked tongue; Kraashagr motions Draug to stay back and creeps forwards.

Two sahuagin are conversing round a corner.  Kraashgar contemplates his options.  He could attack '" but they would be no closer to finding Rhan'Taikol if they killed the sea devils.  He creeps back to Draug.

'You go find the others,' our hero whispers.  'I'm going to follow these things.'

He steals back to the corner and listens again.  The sahuagin are moving away.  Following at a discrete distance Kraashgar tails them.  He scratches a mark in the stone walls at junctions to direct the rest of the band to the correct path.

After some time Kraashgar follows the two sahuagin to the mouth of a much larger cavern dominated by another underground lake.  The sea devils move down a slope to the shore, where a group of them are gathered, along with two other figures '" a hulking, ogre-like thing with scaled flesh and a slender, female figure with long hair resembling seaweed and greenish skin.  The creatures stand in the shadow of an enormous, fish-shaped thing like a cocoon '" presumably the beached aboleth Rhan'Taikol, trapped in the Long Dreaming.

Kraashgar listens; the sahuagin are conversing with the woman '" a sea hag '" in Undercommon.

'Why must we wait here?'  They ask.  'Our skins grow dry!  When shall we be rewarded?'

'When my sisters return,' the hag responds.  'Then we will bring the creatures to the flayers.  If you are dry, bathe yourselves in the pool.'

At this moment Kraashgar hears steps behind him, and the rest of the group appears, crouching behind a stalagmite and watching the scene below.  Kraashgar relates what he just heard.

'We must attack at once,' Ithilax says.  'Before reinforcements arrive.  Goblin, bugbear, kobold '" you take the sahuagin.  Ogre, you will target the merrow.  I will kill the hag.'

Our hero and his companions spring out from the hiding places and rush down towards the hag and her minions.  Kraashgar hurls his spear, taking one sahuagin in the throat; he runs down and yanks it free, jabbing at a second.  The hag shrieks and fixes Kraashgar with her evil eye while menacing the group with her horrific appearance, but our hero resists and only Cromn visibly shudders at her immense ugliness.

The sahuagin put up a fight, ganging up on Druag, stabbing at him with their spears and raking with their claws, ignoring Kraashagr and Kurlok.  The goblin kills a second sahuagin, taking a claw-wound himself, and hurls his spear again, wounding one of the sea devils attacking Draug.  He grabs the spear of one of the fallen sahuagin and wades into the fray with Kurlok.  They flank the sahuagin and pick them off, the last fleeing towards the water.  Kraashgar throws another spear and kills one of those fleeing before snatching a fresh weapon and turning to the merrow.

Debilitated by the hag's horrific appearance, Cromn is being overpowered by his aquatic combatant.  Kraashgar throws a spear that lodges itself in the merrow's back; the creature growls and turns.  Cromn aims a blow to its chest and skewers it while it is distracted; the creature coughs blood and dies.  Ithilax, it seems, has already dispatched the hag.

The group are breathing hard when three forms appear out of the water: a second hag and another merrow, plus two more sahuagin.  These new foes launch themselves at Rhan'Taikol's rescuers.  The hag uses her evil eye on Kurlok, who is stricken instantly with gibbering madness.  While the others join the fray Kraashgar leaps towards the hag, again resisting her horrific appearance.  While Ithilax and the second hag claw at one another Kraashgar aims a spear-thrust and impales the hideous creature, slaying it instantly.

The other foes are quickly destroyed, though Cromn and Draug are badly wounded.

'Alright, stop lollygagging,' Ithilax snaps.  'Everyone form up, we need to get Rhan'Taikol back to the shore near Phagn'Yath!'[/ic]

[ic=Episode 48: My Favorite Son]After hauling the aboleth Rhan'Taikol back to the shore of Phagn'Yath, the slaves are ordered to immerse themselves in the water to be subjected to the rescued abberation's mucus gas, allowing them to breathe water instead of air.  After doing so they swim back to Holsuth Phagn'Neysugg's citadel in the aboleth city, closely directed by Ithilax the Skum.  Kurlok, deranged by the hag's evil eye, must be gently shepherded by the rest of the group.

Back in the aboleth's citadel the slaves are ushered into their cells once more, after the gas wears off and they return to breathing air.  Here they rest and are fed: a fishy-smelling slop sluiced into troughs from a small hole near the ceiling.  As Kraashgar goes to claim his share of the meal a duergar in line behind him taps him on the shoulder.

'Hey new guy,' the gray dwarf snaps.  'Greenskin.  You don't eat for three days.  That's the rule.'

'Sure, whatever,' Kraashgar shrugs, allowing the duergar to move ahead.  When he stoops to spoon some slop into his bowl our hero slams his head down against the lip of the trough.  The duergar splutters and spits a tooth, growls and swings round.  With a furrow of his brow the gray dwarf suddenly grows in size, towering over the goblin.  He punches Kraashgar hard in the gut, winding him, then seizes him by the neck.  Our hero grimaces and head-butts the duergar, then rushes forwards and bears the gray dwarf to the floor.  He pummels him for awhile with his fists, then leaves him be.

After his hard-won meal Kraashgar sleeps, knowing that Cromn and Skabrat will watch his back (Kurlok is still addled).

He is shaken awake by Ithilax.  Two other Skum stand behind the overseer.

'Come,' Holsuth's servitor commands, wrenching our hero up and pushing him onto the elevator.  The lift descends, back to the room with the cylindrical shaft, where the aboleth broods.  Holsuth speaks.

'You have shown promise, thrall.  I have selected you for'¦ modification.  Your body will be augmented.  You will become a superior servant.  In time I may even deem you fit for Union.  Now: accompany Ithilax to the kuo-toa, Syrgos.  I find Skum lack the delicacy required for graftwork.'

Powerless to disobey, Kraashgar is taken down a series of corridors, deeper into the complex.  The tunnels slope up and down at odd angles, but are not filled with water.  After some time they arrive at a round door, which opens at Ithilax's command word.  Inside is a slab-like table surrounded by sinister-looking machinery.  A kuo-toa in a bloodstained smock glances up as they enter.

'Ah, another thrall ready for augmentation?'

'Yes,' Ithilax responds.  'He is to be fitted with the mucus sheath, and the second eyelid.'

'Excellent.  Bring him in, then.'

He is prodded forward.

Strapped in to the slab, the kuo-toa Syrgos humming to himself and looking over a selection of gruesome-looking knives, Kraashgar's mind rebels.  The strain of it is too great '" the aboleth's grip on him snaps.  He begins to struggle, but Skum hold him down.

'Ah, he has broken free of Holsuth's mental hold,' Syrgos says, observing Kraashgar with his bulbous eyes.  'Not to worry!  He will be drugged during the procedure, and afterwards Holsuth can reestablish control.'  The kuo-toa approaches our hero with a syringe.  Struggle as he might, he is unable to prevent the horrible frog-person from injecting him '" and then everything goes dark.

He awakes in what seems like a dim tunnel.  He knows immediately that he is dreaming, but the dream has a profound clarity unlike any other he's ever experienced.  He moves forward.  The tunnel opens into a yawning cavern with an air of the scared.  It smells of blood and sweat and food '" and of goblins.

An enormous goblinoid figure towers over Kraashgar.  She is clearly female, with a massively swollen belly and breasts: she looks pregnant.  She regards him with huge red eyes.

'All-Mother,' he greets her reverently, falling to his knees.

'Greetings, my son,' the goblin speaks with a voice that echoes throughout the cave.  'It was I that created you, guided your race's evolution over long eons.  Where the other gods bred creatures who were strong and large, I made you small of stature, knowing that your size would give you the gifts of stealth and of cunning.  I created you to be beneath the notice of those who believed themselves the most powerful, so that while the strong fought amongst themselves goblins would be safe, ignored.

'But every gift comes with a price.  Though your race is stealthy, you are weak, also.  While you are cunning you are also cowardly.  This is the way of things.

'And yet you, Kraashgar, have somehow moved beyond these limitations.  You have transcended your race's weaknesses.  You have been noticed by the strong, and yet you have not been destroyed.  You have not given up the gifts I gave you: you are stealthy, you are cunning.  And yet you do not flee as all others do.

'I first noticed you in the settlement of Ool-Nacha, when you offered up a sacrifice to my image.  Since then I have been watching you.  So many of your ilk have been a disappointment to me, but you '" you I am proud to call '˜son.'

'Fate did not conspire to make you what you are.  Your destiny is of your own fashioning.  But I am still your goddess, and so I will help you in this time of need.

'I did not mark you at birth as my champion.  But I mark you now, as one of my favorite children, and I give you a measure of my power.'

Kraashgar feels a burning sensation in his skull, over his eyes.  He raises his hands to discover that his small horns '" a typical goblin feature '" have grown into massive, curled things jutting from above his brow.

'Soon you will awaken.  The amphibian believes that you will sleep for hours yet.  You must use your gifts wisely to escape: the gift of stealth, the gift of cunning.  And also, you must use your courage, so rare in my children, and thus so precious.

'My blessing upon you, Kraashgar.  Now, awake!'

Our hero opens your eyelids '" not one set, but two now, freshly grafted by Syrgos.  The kuo-toa is humming to himself and busying himself with his tools, his back to the goblin.

Kraashgar checks that his newly grown horns are there.  He grins.  There are no Skum holding him down now '" there aren't any in the room at all.  Quietly he picks up a bloody scalpel from a tray'¦[/ic][ooc]Kraashgar receives a level of cleric, choosing Luck and Earth as his domains (other possible domains were Trickery and Chaos).[/ooc]

That was an awesome read. I love the part where he beat the duergar senseless.

Should have guessed that you'd break out grafts at some point. Can we hope for an upgraded illustration of the goblin hero anytime soon?

I am looking forward to the exciting escape (!)

[blockquote=Ghostman]Should have guessed that you'd break out grafts at some point. Can we hope for an upgraded illustration of the goblin hero anytime soon?[/blockquote]I'm working on his updated illustration.  The player commented that really it was at this point that Kraashgar became "unique," acquiring those traits we usually give characters when they're created but which for this we deliberately eschewed.

Grafts were kind of inevitable, yeah. I'd like to think that though it's a vanilla sort of world, it's got a lot of the flavor of my other stuff to it - the cold war between tentacled abominations, the clockwork arm for the grig, Thollom's experiments, the bionic dwarves, the grafts.  I wish I'd figured out a way (and had time) to include mind flayers more prominently (despite the fact that ultimately they're a major player, I think Kraashgar's seen one only once or twice, and never properly interacted with them).  I suppose keeping them unseen leaves them rather ominous and mysterious, but still.  Also I would have liked to incorporate devils somewhere, who'd have fit right in.  Originally I'd imagined the portal in the dungeon led either to the Abyss or the Nine Hells, but it proved a perfect way to get Mordant (who I'd first imagined as a lich) into the dungeon.

Small psuedo-update: the actual campaign itself has now finished.  At the end Kraashgar was a Goblin Warrior 5/Fighter 2/Cleric 1.  There are 11 episodes remaining (for a total of 60) - it'll take me awhile to get all of them up.

After that it'll probably be back to regular broadcasting on my other projects.

Alas it was over too soon... Now I totally want to see more of these.

[ic=Episode 49: Watery Revenge]Our hero soundlessly steps from the operating slab and approaches the kuo-toa Syrgos, scalpel in hand.  With all his strength he plunges the blade into the amphibian graft-worker's back.  Syrgos screams in pain and turns around, blood dribbling from his wide, frog-like mouth.  He begins to croak the syllables of a spell but Kraashgar lowers his head and thrusts forward.  His newly grown horns skewer Syrgos through the chest; the magus gasps, his spell interrupted.  His eyes go dead.

Calmly, Kraashgar equips himself as best he can with a few surgical instruments, stowing them in a small leather bag which he slings across his chest.  The door to the room is shut; the hand-print identification lock (magically keyed) does not recognize his signature.  With a scavenged hacksaw our hero removes Syrgos' webbed right hand and places this on the lock, palm facing forward.  A glyph lights up above the lock and the door dilates open.  He stows the severed hand in the surgical bag.

Outside the corridor is quiet.  Our hero slinks down the passage, rounding a curve and discovering a Skum guarding another door.  Kraashgar pads silently forwards, two scalpels in his hands, keeping to the shadows.  When the Skum's back is turned the goblin rushes forward.  He flings one scalpel at the Skum's head and continues charging, slashing with the second.  The Skum cries out as the first scalpel hits his neck and turns, claws bared, to find forty five pounds of horned, green fury hurtling towards him.  Kraashgar barrels into the Skum, his blade tearing across the creature's chest.  The guard, surprised but still alive, claws at our hero, raking him across the chest.  Kraashgar stabs again and again with his scalpel, ingoring the Skum's flailing till the creature dies.

Using Syrgos' hand Kraashgar opens the door the Skum was guarding and drags his corpse inside.  The chamber is filled with equipment '" by the looks of it, mostly the former belongings of slaves.  Shelves carved in the walls hold weapons, armor, jewelry, ammunition, clothing, and coinage.  A small, round window looks out upon Phagn'Yath.

Kraashgar investigates the shelves and eventually finds his own equipment.  He shrugs on his mirthil mail, buckles on his cold iron mace, and puts his Broach of Shielding round his neck, as well as the small necklace he made of the redcap teeth.  His pistol is useless: the powder got wet.  Nonetheless he decides to take it with him, in case he finds any useable powder elsewhere.  Finally he considers the Ring of Protection Chalsezce used to scry on him.  He is tempted to keep it, but decides in the end to smash it with his mace.  He is still wearing the glyph-graven manacles that enhance his strength: they do not hamper his movements.

He briefly rummages through some of the other equipment and turns up Kurlok's katana and several of Skabrat's masterwork throwing knives.  Heavy with the burden of equipment he leaves the armory and heads back into the complex.

Using the kuo-toa's hand Kraashgar investigates several other chambers.  In one room, humanoids of various sorts are trapped in cylindrical shafts of liquid here.  All have grossly distended stomachs, as if they were impregnated '" even the males.  Kraashgar shudders.

'Incubation,' he mutters.

He is continuing his search when he hears a familiar voice echoing down the corridor '" a high, nasal voice with a whine to it '" Chalsezce!  Kraashgar follows the voice to an open door and peers inside, perceiving a high, cylindrical chamber.  The beholder floats about halfway up, conversing with someone through a magical console.  Our hero hears a silky female voice '" that of the drider Mordant.

'And how are things at the Lair then, Mordant?'  The beholder asks.

'For the most part, according to plan.  Obraxus is still at large; there's been no sign of him.  We suspect he may have fled to the Overworld, or perhaps to one of the drow cities.  Thollom survived, but that Umber Hulk is loose somewhere nearby.  I've sent out patrols to look for it but it's been picking them off.  Otherwise, the dungeon is secure.  We repelled the illithid counter-attacks with ease.  The portal to the necropolis remains operational.  How is Phagn'Yath?'

'Oh, tolerable, I suppose.  The place smells rather like fish, but I can't complain.  I'm shopping about for a new lair, but for now this will do '" they've been keeping this level sealed, so that it doesn't flood, but it's still a trifle damp.  The sound of running water is rather soothing, though.'

'Mhm, well.  I'll keep you updated on any developments.'

'Excellent, my dear.'

So '" the beholder relocated to Holsuth's citadel.  Kraashgar's mind races with possibilities for revenge.  His hit-list is growing long these days.  The goblin sneaks past the door and up a sloping ramp, into the upper levels of the complex.

He finds Ithilax the Skum in the main chamber, though Holsuth is absent from the glass cylinder from which it addresses its thralls.  Grimly our hero readies his heavy mace.  He creeps towards the Skum and aims his blow carefully, but his botos squeak against the floor and Ithilax turns round, alerted to the goblin's presence.  Kraashgar shrieks a battle-cry and charges, mace raised.  Ithilax blocks the blow with his arm, but Kraashagr hears the crack of breaking bones and the Skum screams in agony.

One arm dangling bloody and useless, Ithilax darts forward, clawing at Kraashgar.  Our hero rushes to meet him, swingiong his mace.  The two trade blows and become entangled in a brutal melee, Ithilax fastening his fangs round Kraashgar's arms, the goblin smacking at the Skum's face and neck with his mace.  Though badly wounded by Ithialx Kraashgar eventually reduces the Skum's head to a bloody smear on the nacreous floor.

Breathing hard and covered in blood, Kraashgar walks over to the console Ithilax had been fiddling with.  He discovers twelve ornate glyphs, none of which he comprehends.  Experimenting, he activates a few and hears the sound of rushing water in the walls.  He hits all of the glyphs and small openings near the ceiling dilate, allowing water to rush into the room.  Hurriedly Kraashgar begins deactivating glyphs till the water stops.  Through trial and error he comes to understand the console '" the various glyphs selectively flood different levels of the citadel.  Realization flashes through our hero's brain.

'So, you like the sound of running water, eh Chalsezce?'  Kraashgar grins and activates all of the glyphs except the one that would flood the level he's on.  'No portal to flee through now, eye tyrant.'

One name off the hit-list.  Kraashgar turns towards the elevator that leasd to the slave quarters.  Time to rescue his friends.[/ic][ooc]The horns are a pretty transparent homage to Hellboy.[/ooc]

[ic=Episode 50: Bluff]Kraashgar ascends the lift in Holsuth Phagn'Yath's citadel towards the slaves' cell that he recently inhabited himself.  The elevator clanks to a stop in the middle of the room, and Kraashgar steps off to greet his comrades.

They're still enslaved, he realizes.  If I tell them we're escaping, they won't be able to come with me.  I'll have to lie.

'Kurlok, Skabrat, Xug, Cromn, Szor, come with me,' Kraashgar commands imperiously.

'Uh, what's going on, Kraashgar?'  Skabrat asks.

'I have been granted Union,' Kraashgar improvises.  'Hosluth Phagn'Yath has chosen me to be his servant. Now, come '" I have a special task for you.'

'No!'  The bugbear Draug bellows from the shadows.  'It's not fair!  I've been here twenty years, you've been here less than a week!  Why would Holsuth grant you Union before me?'  The bugbear looms hugely above, fists balled, tears rolling down his cheeks.

'Silence, thrall!'  Kraashagr shouts.  'It is not for you to question our Master's orders!'

Draug whimpers and draws back.  Obraxus' minions, suitably impressed, follow Kraashgar to the lift.

'So, what kind of mission is this, Kraashgar?'

'Uh.'  Our hero thinks on his feet.  'We're being sent back to the Lair.  We've been tasked with'¦ hunting down Mr. Pincer.  He got loose; Holsuth wants him destroyed.'

For the time being, the group seems to accept this statement.  The lift clanks to a halt and they step out into the main chamber.  Kraashgar ushers them quickly up a ramp to the top level, after aking sure that it isn't flooded.  I have to find a way out of here'¦ but how?

They hear Skum voices from a room to one side of the corridor.  Kraashgar realizes that his companions aren't making any effort to stay quiet.

'Uh, guys, you need to stay quiet,' he says.  'There's an important meeting in progress'¦ we shouldn't disturb them.'

Everyone quiets down, but Cromn the ogre's footsteps are heavy.  The voices stop and footsteps can be heard.

'In here, guys,' Kraashgar says, pointing towards an open door and gesturing.  'Come on, this mission is urgent!'  His companions file in; while their backs are turned Kraashgar closes the door with the kuo-toa Syrgos' hand.

The room is quite large, with expansive glass windows looking out on Phagn'Yath. A large craft of some kind is evident in a kind of channel or bay in the room's center.  It appears to have a chitinous hull, with mechanical elements integrated into it.  A small, round orifice admits entrance into the vessel.  A larger door through which the construct would presumably pass is set directly in front of the craft, and a control panel can be seen to one side.

'Alright, in here now,' Kraashgar commands, keeping an eye on the door.  'Hurry up, hurry up!'  His friends pass into the submersible.  Once they're inside Kraashgar activates the control and rushes to the bay doors and water begins to fill the room.  He closes the submersible door and heads towards the cockpit, indicating that his companions should stay in the cargo bay.

A bewildering array of glyphs is evident in the cockpit.  The room is filled with water; the large door opens onto the aboleth city.  Making his best guess as to which glyph controls what Kraashgar tries to steer the submersible forwards; after a rocky start he manages to propel it forwards and up, even as he hears the door to the submersible bay open behind him '" the Skum, come to see what all the noise was.

Throwing caution to the wind, Kraashgar activates the glyphs he thinks control the throttle and the craft bursts forward, into the underwater city.  After a couple of minutes he slows down: he should have lost any pursuers.  He begins to steer the craft through Phagn'Yath and towards the cliffs as its edge, back where they rescued the aboleth Rhan'Taikol.  Though the water is murky and the city labyrinthine our hero manages to locate the passage that leads into the underwater caves, and eventually to dry land.

He is steering the submersible upwards when a sudden blow hits him hard across the temple.  A figure materializes before him '" the duergar Nhazgar, servant of Chalsecze!  He must have turned himself invisible '" typical duergar trick!  The duarger jumps atop our hero and begins pummeling him with his fists.  Kraashgar pushes him off and throws a punch but overbalances '" without a pilot the submerisible is out of control.  The floor shifts and Kraashgar lurches forwards.  He gropes for the controls in an attempt to stabilize the craft, pulling it to a full stop, just as Nhazgar strikes him again.

Kraashgar spins, elbowing the durger in the face, then hefts his mace from his belt.  The duergar snarls and hurls himself at our hero, but Kraashgar is ready and strikes the gray dwarf hard, battering him against the glass of the cockpit, which cracks alarmingly, though it holds.  Nhazgar, stunned but not out, throws himself at the goblin again.

'Filthy goblin bastard,' Nhazgar hisses as he swings at Kraashgar.  'You'll pay for my master's death!'

Kraashgar dodges away from the gray dwarf's attacks and lads one of his own, right atop the duergar's skull.  Blood and brains spatter across the walls and Nhazgar falls to the floor, limp, a red pool spreading beneath him.

A knock can be heard at the door, and it dilates open '" Skabrat peers inside.

'Get in, get in!'  Kraashagr hisses, closing the door behind Skabrat, whose remaining eye goes wide when he spots Nhazgar's corpse.

'That's Nhazgar'¦ what's going on?'

'Uh, Nhazgar was trying to impede the mission, and then'¦ oh screw it.  Skabrat, listen.  The All-Mother Herself spoke to me.  She marked me as her champion and helped me escape, and I'm taking you guys with me.  Didn't you notice the horns?'

'Yeah, I thought those were weird, but I assumed it was some side-effect of Union.  The All-Mother spoke to you?'

'Yes.  In a vision.  She has marked me; you must believe.'

Kraashgar watches as a struggle plays itself out over Skabrat's face '" Holsuth Phagn'Neysugg's mental domination versus the goblin's faith in his deity.  He lokos at Kraashgar '" and his eye is filled with sudden excitement.  Almost miraculously, faith has overcome the aboleth's psychic hold on Skabrat.

'Now listen, the others are still enslaved,' Kraashgar says.  'They won't care that the All-Mother spoke to me; She isn't their goddess.  We have to trick them, so that we can escape, maybe find some way of breaking that thing's hold.'

'Alright.'

'Okay, I'm goinjg to take us to the surface.  You go back there and tell them I had some mechanical trouble or something.  Don't let them in.'[/ic][ooc]I allowed Skabrat a saving throw to break the aboleth's hold after Kraashgar invoked the All-Mother, and he got a natural 20; much short of that Kraahsgar probably would have had to kill him, or at least knock him unconscious.[/ooc]

[ic=Episode 51: Unseelie]With Skabrat's help, Kraashgar manages to quell the suspicions of his still-enslaved companions as he pilots the submersible to the surface, eventually reaching the shore where they'd embarked before to search for Rhan'Taikol.  The group files out onto the subterranean beach.  Pity to leave the sub, but there's no way of transporting it'¦.

Kraashgar leads the group through the tunnels.  He's only thinking a few steps ahead '" what should they do now?  Look for Obraxus?  Make their way back to the dungeon?  If so, how?  Infiltrate the necropolis, or take the long way up?  Our hero ponders thse questions as the party reenters the cave where Rhan'Taikol was being held captive by the sea hag and her sahuagin minions.  As he enters the cavern Kraashgar spots something down by the edge of the underground lake '" a third sea hag, accompanied by a merrow bodyguard!  The other two mentioned they were working for mind flayers, allies of Obarxus'¦ perhaps he can convince the hag to take him to the illithids?  His companions are close behind him: if they see the sea hag they might attack'¦

'You wait here,' he whispers to his comrades.  'There's something up ahead: let me deal with it.'

Our hero moves forwards, hands up in a gesture of submission.  He walks towards the hag, resisting the urge to retch at the disturbing sight of her horrific appearance.

The hag coos and drifts close to him.  He can smell her stench, as of rotting seaweed.

'I'm Kraashgar,' he says in Udnercmmon.  'Enemy of the aboleths'¦ I mean you no harm.'

'Ah, a goblin!'  The hag coos.  'A tasty-looking morsel'¦'  She reaches out with a clawed hand, then stops, her yellow eyes fixed at Kraashgar's neck.  'What!'  She exclaims, reaching out to touch the necklace Kraashgar wears.  'Is that '" a redcap tooth?'

'It is.'

'Any who bears a redcap tooth is a friend of the fey '" psychotic little buggers, given even us Unseelie a bad name!  I am called Granny Greenblood.  What is your name, goblin?  Why do you roam these tunnels, so close to the city of the foul aboleths?'

'I broke free of their grasp and fled here.  You work for the mind flayers, am I right?  I seek sanctuary with them: we come recently from a dungeon under their control, and have important information for them.'

'My dead sisters and I were working under an illithid contract, but they are not our masters '" merely our current eomplyers.  If I delivered them to you they would simply consume your brains to absorb the information you know directly: you would by no means be given '˜sanctuary.'  But I know a safe place '" a hidden place '" where you must go.  Come!'

'I have companions '" they will not trust you.  They are still under the aboleths' control; I'm amazed that our escape hasn't been perceived yet.'

Granny Greenblood grins, then her form quivers.  She is transformed magically into a Skum.

'A simple glamer,' she explains.  'Bring out your friends.  They will assume I am an aboleth servitor.'

Kraashgar complies, and his companions '" Kurlok, Skabrat, Szor, Cromn, and Xug '" enter the cavern.

'This Skum will take us to the Lair,' Kraashgar says, giving Skabrat a meaningful look.  'The ogre is its thrall.'

'This way,' Granny Greenblood says, pointing to the water.  'It is a short swim.'

Granny Greenblood dives into the water.  Kraashgar and the others follow her.  The goblin's skin secretes a mucus-like substance: though it does not allow him to breathe water, he finds that it aids his ability to move through the water, and his second eyelids augment his underwater vision.  The sea hag leads the group through a narrow tunnel at the floor of the lake, then up into another pool.  The group surfaces in a a mid-sized natural cavern, fed by a small waterfall.  The waterfall passes through the mouth of a carven statue in the image of a grotesque giant.

'Through here,' Granny Greenblood says, gesturing to the fall.  The group pass through.  Kraashgar feels an odd, tingling sensation as he does so that has nothing to do with the temperature.

'You have now entered Faerie,' Granny greenblood proclaims, shifting back to her ordinary form.  'The aboleth's mind-hold cannot cross planar boundaries.  Your companions are freed.'

Our hero observes the rest of the group '" all bear stunned expressions.  Quickly Kraashagr explains their situation, and all admire the goblin's cunning.

Beyond the waterfall tunnel is a cavern whose ceiling is held up seemingly by massive roots.  Gossamer webs drape the ceiling as well, and fey lights flicker here and there.  Granny Greenblood leads them down this tunnel, deeper into the realm of the fey.  An unpleasant-looking gnome-like creature with a mossy beard and bulbous eyes suddenly scuttles into view.

'Granny Greenblood,' the creature says.  'And guests.  Welcome to the Unseelie Court.  The Queen wishes to see you.'

They are led by the spriggan through a series of corridors, deep into a complex cavern system.  Will-o-the wisps bob around the caves; bizarre fey creatures look at the group quizzically.  There are places where water flows up, and where passages slope in such a way that Kraashgar feels as if he is walking on a ceiling.

At last they come to a huge, arched door, guarded by a pair of misshapen giant-like creatures.  They allow the group to pass at granny Greenblood's insistence, into a throne-room of sorts beyond.

The woman that sits on the throne is somehow simultaneously both beautiful and hideous.  She has bluish skin and features that seem both elfin and almost goblin.  There is more than a hint of mischief and malevolence to her, but humor as well.  She is dressed in ornate, gossamer clothing

'Welcome to my realm, travelers.  I am Medb '" Queen of the Unseelie Court.  Tell me '" what has brought you here?'

'I found them wandering near Phagn'Yath,' Granny Grenblood says.  'The horned goblin says he escaped from the aboleth's enslavement, along with his companions.'

'And what brought you into their clutches?'  Medb asks Kraashgar.

'We were minions of an Ogre Mage '" Obraxus,' Kraashgar says.  'His Lair '" a former dwarf stronghold over a mithril mine, near the surface '" was invaded by undead, commanded by a drider working for the aboleths.  We were enslaved.'

'I see.  And where will you go now?'

'I seek vengeance on Mordant, the drider who overtook the dungeon '" and on the adventurers who slaughtered my tribe.'

'Revenge is a motive I can respect,' Queen Medb says.  'Tell me more.'

Kraashgar recounts his story, from start to finish, leaving little out.   After his tale, Medb stays silent for a moment, then speaks.

'Word of these events have already reached my ears.  My position in the Great Below is'¦ precarious. Long ago, Lord Oberon cast us down into the depths of the Faerie world, down here, to brood amongst the shadows and cobwebs, parallel to the caverns beneath the mortal plane.  We have learned to adapt, to make a home for ourselves, but the fish and the squids bicker like the children they are.

'Mithril is the single most valuable commodity in the Great Below, and it is rapidly being exhausted.  The dwarves covet it, the drow work wonders with it, but for centuries the illithids have controlled it.  By seizing the mine, the aboleths have struck a blow against the illithids.  By controlling the mithril deposits, they have seized a great deal of power.  The seizure of the mines from the illithids may seem a small event, but it is like the pebble that starts a rockslide: a small tip in the balance may have great ramifications.

'The balance cannot be allowed to tip too far.  If the aboleths succeed in destroying the mind flayers, we shall be next.  The aboleths are'¦ disgusting creatures.  They think themselves old.'  She spits.  A black flower rises from the droplet, emitting a foul-smelling musk.  'I was alive since before the mortal world was spun from primordial entropy!  The aboleths merely predate other sentient species of the mortal world.  They hate what they do not understand.  They watched every mortal race evolve on the surface of this world '" save for the illithids, themselves from beyond the mortal plane.  For this reason the aboleths fear the flayers; they would fear me as well, were my power not tied so closely to Faerie.  But make no mistake: though they do not see me and my kind as a great threat, they have no love for us.

'There are many doors into my kingdom, and though they are well hidden, the aboleths are good at discovering secrets.  If the Primal Empire conquers the Great Below, sooner or later they will find a way into the Unseelie Court.  Their foul creatures and their thralls will march through the passages of Faerie, unstoppable.  I would not be able to destroy them; Lord Oberon could care less for our troubles.

'I will help you to retake the Lair from this drider, Mordant, in order to prevent the aboleths from gaining the advantage over the illithids.  There is a tree, a sort of gate, here in my realm, that corresponds to another in the dungeon you speak of.  This tree could be used to enter the dungeon undetected '" but there is one problem.

'The tree is sick.  There is a creature '" one of my children '" called the Morrigan.  She was once a war goddess, a thing of great power and beauty.  She soared over the battlefields of the mortal world and of Faerie on black wings, singing her glorious war-song.  But when Oberon banished us to the Great Below, she was forced underground.  Now she cannot fly: her wings have been clipped.  She has lost her godhood, weakened and gone mad in the endless dark, as so many of my kind have'¦ she has corrupted part of Faerie, and all the fey near her.

'The dryad bonded to the tree I spoke of has sickened, become a demented thing, a splinterwaif.  She cannot be killed while hr tree lives, and the tree must be alive for it to be used as a gate.  To use her oak, you must restore her.  Though it pains me to condemn one of my own blood, the Morrigan must be killed '" it would be a mercy, and it will return the splinterwaif to her dryad form.

'My consort, Nodd, will accompany you.'  Here a green-haired satyr steps from the shadows.  'You have, I see, a weapon of cold iron: use this against her, for the touch of iron is anathema to all my kind.  You may purchase anything else you need in the marketplace of my realm; the redcap teeth you carry are valuable amongst my people.'[/ic]

Quote from: SP'No!' The bugbear Draug bellows from the shadows. 'It's not fair! I've been here twenty years, you've been here less than a week! Why would Holsuth grant you Union before me?' The bugbear looms hugely above, fists balled, tears rolling down his cheeks.

'Silence, thrall!' Kraashagr shouts. 'It is not for you to question our Master's orders!'

Draug whimpers and draws back. Obraxus' minions, suitably impressed, follow Kraashgar to the lift.

Oh... How Terrible. :)

"Queen Medb"  ... Maeve? Queen Mab...  With Oberon... Very Midsummer's Night Dream.

I like how you managed to incorporate such a variety of monsters for your player to encounter.

[blockquote=Light Dragon]Oh... How Terrible.[/blockquote]Yeah, true - but still quite necessary.  They could hardly have brougth Draug with them; even if they freed him from the psychic hold he's been enslaved so long that he worships/fetishizes the aboleth.  The player found him sort of disturbing.[blockquote=ibid.]Queen Medb ... Maeve? Queen Mab... With Oberon... Very Midsummer's Night Dream.[/blockquote]Medb/Maeve/Mab yep, although having done a little research I'm not sure Medb and Mab are actually that closely linked (Medb was an Irish mytholoigcal figure, Mab a 17th century literary figure, and I'm not sure what relation the two actually have to one another.  Medb in this is closer to Mab, though.

Speaking of a variety of creatures, I realized that only 2 named humans and perhaps 4 humans of note have actually appeared in the campaign (Magnus the adventurer fighter, Cal the adventurer cleric, the woodsman, and teh mayor of Gloamwood), and that the only two humans I've drawn have their faces obscured by helmets, which is kind of funny.  I didn't set out specifically to avoid humans or conceal them, but the campaign seems extremely disinterested in humanity, demonizing it when it doesn't ignore it.

That seems to hold for the surface races in general, not just humans. Even the dwarves, who are kinda subterranean themselves, tend toward the faceless enemy type.

Often goggle-clad and alien (with all the machines, or the undead dwarves), yeah.  We see more of them but they tend to be goons.

Hmm... Goggle. That give me an idea for an artifact: Google Goggles (Work like a rod of divining or the Terminator's "John Connor"-seeking algorithm).

Don't worry, I understand about Draug. :)

Hello, I think you mentioned that you had completed the game. Will we see completion of the tale?

Best,
~LD.

I absolutely plan to complete the campaign write-ups.  I was able to crank out so many a few months ago because it was summer and my evenings were free.  Now my evenings are filled reading long nineteenth century novels...

Which novels, perchance?
Are you enjoying the classes?

A lot of Henry James.  And by and large it's very enjoyable, if challenging.  I'm TAing for a course with Lovecraft and Tolkien on the syllabus, which is pretty cool.

I am surprised at how much the Canadians seem to teach Lovecraft. I don't believe he or Tolkien is taught much in the US- if at all. Good luck with the TA work.

[ic=Episode 52: Marketplace]The fey marketplace bustles with strange creatures buying and selling.  The market is set inside a cathedral-sized cavern whose ceiling is supported by massive roots.  Brightly colored pavilions sprawl about the roots, in which faerie of all sorts buy and sell.  Kraashgar spots one tent with a sign outside that reads 'Alchemy,' beside a small fairy creature with dragonfly wings who plays a game of chance with an anthropomorphic weasel.  Opposite he sees a pavilion advertising the favours of a nymph courtesan, next to a tent where a lamia '" a creature with the lower body of a lion and the upper body of a muscular human '" sells charms pendants, and talismans of all sorts.  A creature with green flesh that sprouts small thorns seems to sell blades from one stall, currently being perused by a humanoid fox in a dapper waistcoat.  Further down our hero can see shops selling everything from fresh bodies to jewels to musical instruments to caged monsters to perfume.

First he approaches the lamia.

'What can I get for a redcap tooth?'  He asks, eying the eldritch bric-a-brac on the table.  The lamia grins toothily and describes several of its items.  Eventually Kraashgar selects two gemstones - a ruby and an emerald - which the merchant assures him contain the bound spirits of a fire and earth elemental: the jewels need only be shattered to conjure the spirits within.  He pays one redcap tooth for each and heads to the alchemist's tent.

Inside the alchemist's tent the air smells like herbs and incense.  A myriad of cauldrons, boilers, kettles, and shimmering glass globes are evident here, tended by the many limbs of a strange creature something like a humanoid tree, with black bark for skin and a humanoid face.  It sips at a cup of something steaming and sighs deeply.

The goblin haggles with the treant and eventually uses his remaining redcap teeth to purchase two potions - a potion of Blur and a potion of Haste.

Now properly equipped he seeks out of the satyr, Nodd, and gathers the rest of his companions - Kurlok, Skabrat, Szor, Cromn, and Xug.

'Alright, let's get this over with.'[/ic]

Any more progress with this over the courses break, Steerpike?

I had a lot of technology problems over the break which made it difficult to put new images together - printers whose scanners weren't working, computers without the same software I was using before, etc.  I have several pen and ink drawings of the next few episodes, uncolored and ready to be scanned... I should go dig those up, maybe this weekend...

Hope you'll manage to avoid any further problems and grace us with some more Goblin goodies :)

Oh no! Some of the image links are dead/dying :(

I still have the original images, so perhaps I should repost!

It's a great read for anyone who has not yet seen it- I was mentioning it to some friends over Christmas; thus why I noted the missing images. :o. A repost of the images/fix of them would be appreciated.

I wonder why images occasionally disappear from Image Shack? The same issue has happened before in other threads.

Quote from: Light DragonI wonder why images occasionally disappear from Image Shack? The same issue has happened before in other threads.

Image Shack is just not a particularly good platform for image-hosting anymore, at least not for the average user. Broken links, seemingly random size-changes, images just being deleted, etc. It's a shame because I used it for Underdeep, and the old threads look terrible - everything is distorted or missing. It would have been nice having an "image" of the game even if it was no longer active (I do still have the original images for that too, but still). You now need a paid account to use Imageshack fully, and there are other (free, dependable) file-hosting services out there. It's kind of bizarre - I don't know how they think they can charge when there are so many free options out there. Maybe it makes sense for certain users, I don't know.

I'm not sure why anyone uses Imageshack now, it's pretty awful.

You might consider using the CBG's own hosting.  When I complained about imgur compressing large image files I was using for RR a year or so ago, Nomadic told me to just upload it to the CBG Wiki.  I've done that with big RR maps ever since.

Good idea!