(week 6) Symbols

Ah yes, where were we this fine eve. I believe we left off with a roof and a pile of horror tainted dwarves. We tried are best to help the poor name givers but everything we tried ended with us covered is dwarf soup, and that is just not a nice thing. I finally decided to take out my aggravation on the roof, and pulled out my ax. After a few solid chops, I discovered something odd about the roof, there appeared to be a symbol on it. Well now, that must be the reason for all this trouble and it must be destroyed. We tried our best bur failed to even scratch the roof until the sun set, only then did we seem to make progress in destroying it. Later on we found a similar symbol and a different roof. It too was destroyed.

(Week Six) Horrid Harlots and Runic Rooves

The party began the day by convincing the friendly farmers who released murderous Cadavermen at night to go for a picnic and leave behind their work on their now twice burned house.  At half a mile from the homestead they exploded gruesomely.  When we returned we found them happily at work, once again propping up their roof.  Very strange indeed, though their command of art remains showing that they are not Horror tainted.  After due deliberation Dob the doughty dwarf doubted the durability of the roof and proceeded to smite it smartly.  The friendly farmers anxiously objected but Dob noticed the runic symbol engraved thereon.  It was tentacly and evil.  We rent the roof and once again the friendly farmers exploded.

At about that time a man came stumbling down from the north and fell at the front of the farmstead.  He had been torn from top to toe and clutched a voucher for a free drink in his hand.  Thinking of how I could use it to discover more about my discipline I quickly scooped up the voucher, which was from a house of harlots a short journey north.  We went to visit.

There we discovered two sulky bar maids and an eager crowd in the courtyard.  The barmaids yielded to the cavalryman’s attentions while I watched the wayward throng.  Soon enough, a dancer appeared with tentacles for arms, a horrible sight.  When asked the barmaids told the story of how a Theran airship had come by not long ago and one of the girls had been used hardly and died.  She was reborn as a tentacle monstrosity which made her very much in demand with the clientele.  She was busy killing the other harlots to convert them into similar horrors.

Valiant Vaughn proved his worth by picking a lock so that we could see one of the beasts with a client whom she was devouring devilishly.  Now fully committed to ending this reign of evil I gathered up the party and we set out to find and eliminate the source of the evil.  The first horror-tainted whore.  We entered her room using a cunning ploy of Vaughn’s but were unable to deal her damage.  Though her tantric tentacles touched us truly.  We fled to the approbation of the crowd.  The barmaids agreed to Fritii’s plan to torch the place and even provided flammables from the wine cellar.

Having ended the Horror here (for none escaped the flames) we continued north in pursuit of the Theran airship.  In the next town we found that it had hovered over a house but never landed or sent people into town.  The house belonged to Charles D. Ward whom the party had assisted in Gnarls Barkley.  We discovered a rune on its roof like that on that of the friendly farmers.

Week six -- Vaugn

Surprisingly, despite our bank of heroisms-du-jour -- whether that be arson,  or throwing people out of windows, or rather ill-fated forest hikes -- all this family seemed to be interested in was propping up their progressively deteriorating house.  While I found their single-mindedness admirable, it did seem a bit excessive.  ... Creepy, actually.  We began to suspect that is was, in fact, the house itself that was the source of corruption.   It's fortunate that the family was completely oblivious to our increasingly criminal activities, because it allowed us to investigate more fully.  Sure enough, a closer look of their strangely unburned roof (although not from lack of trying on our part) revealed a large, glowing symbol.  After a short discussion, the tall dwarf reduced the cursed roof to a pile of kindling.  Winning!  ... Sort of.  Because instead of saving the family, they were turned inside out and suffered horrible, agonizing deaths.  Wonderful.

It seemed about the right time for a speedy exit, when we discovered a nearby corpse missing half his face and his left arm.  He was also clutching a free drink coupon from a brothel up the road.  Now, I'm usually suspicious of free drink coupons in the first place, but especially other peoples' unspent free drink coupons.  Suspecting trouble at the brothel (after all, could there be another reason for an unredeemed coupon?), we set off.  

Now, brothels put me on edge.  I get that same sort of feeling I get walking into a casino, just sort of... defensive.  Have to play smart, now.  These places almost always end up being breeding grounds for anonymous degenerates.  Shockingly, my mates didn't waste much time before redeeming the coupon and plunging themselves into sad, desperate female genitalia.  I sat back and played along as much as I could, while trying to get information out of the girls.

First red flag: the place is dead.  The girls look bored.  That's never a good sign.  After some investigation, we discovered that by some luck, girls killed by Therans reanimate into horrific, tentacle-y monsters.  Incidentally, they also reanimate into much better dancers, which seemed to be cause for considerable animosity amongst the normals.  Seeing as though my party mates had just become very ... good friends with these girls, they were determined to destroy their corrupted, unnatural, albeit more talented, competition.  Sometimes they're so chivalrous.  But they lack subtly.  I was left to get us into the star dancer's room, which was trivial considering I knew I could manipulate her low self-esteem and hopeless hunger for fame, which the promise of a feature in the next issue of Tentacle Monthly.  She totally fell for it -- win! -- and we got in, but the fight didn't go so well.  In fact, it was such a disaster that we determined that burning down the whole complex was the only other solution.  Subtly doesn't always work, after all.  

So, another charred, hollow shell of civilization behind us, we went in search of the Therans who began this mess.  We followed our leads to a nearby village, where we were told their airships stopped for a time.  Interestingly, they stopped right above the house of  one Charles D. Ward, the same slimy miscreant from Gnarles Barkley.  Although he wasn't at home, a quick look told us that this house, too, bore the same glowing mark as the dwarf family's homestead.  So, natually, we gave it the same treatment: burning to the ground and destroying the roof.  How do you like them apples, Charles D. Ward?

The adventures of Fritii and his Noble Steed Pinky

As a natural wanderer for many years, I had become bored with simply waiting. Bandits never attacked me and, other than the odd scrape with rabid lizards, nothing had challenged me. There were no wars to be fought, no grand charges into amassed infantry columns, no ambushes to evade cleverly, no lonely pioneer towns to defend from local gangs, none of that. It seems I was born during a dull time.

So I was slowly turning into a sot. One evening in Bartertown, however, I overheard a rowdy ragtag group of Namegivers cackling over the riches and fame they had amassed by battling a Horror. Curious, I asked them who they were. One of them, a Dwarf (or a very stout and short Human, I was a bit tipsy at that point and he had a beard) proudly declaimed that they were a band of adventurers. They traveled Barsaive as I did, but rather than wait for adventure to find them, they sought it out through a network of hiring sorts.

Now don't get me wrong, I had heard tales like this as a youngling, but I had thought them fables. Yet here, before me, was a real group of adventurers. The Dwarf/Human then told me some tips on where to look for information and how to ask for it.

The next morning, my head throbbing, I went to the stables to greet and groom my Noble Steed Pinky, and it seems some kind soul had overheard our discussion the night before and had slipped a note in Pinky's feed bag informing me of a group of adventurers who might be looking for a new member, and their general whereabouts. Despite the sun being FAR too bright that morning, I hastily groomed and mounted and Pinky set off for the south.

Our first stop was a small town named Nell's Rock, but it was dull as a stone. One of the villagers informed me of a town further along that had been spoken of locally as having a group of adventurers working in it, a place named Gnarls Barkley. We set off immediately.

When Pinky and I arrived there, there was some sort of tourney going on, but a helpful local informed me that yes, a group of adventurers was in the tourney and it was nearly over. I waited outside and napped in my saddle until I awoke to the sounds of people leaving the tourney. Sure enough, a ragtag band of comrades came out who looked nothing like the local turnip farmers,

Pinky and I introduced ourselves and were welcomed immediately. I was informed that they were going back to Bartertown looking for more adventure. I smiled at the irony and Pinky glared at me until I stopped. But then, like the Noble Steed that he is, he set off following this group with a resigned neigh.

On the way to Bartertown we were passing through Nell's Rock and, shall we say, it had become much more interesting than the last time we had been there. Instead of a rustic village of turnip farmers, it was deserted save for a few corpses of local villagers scattered around a large and colorful tent set up in the square.

We entered to see an odd setup of three little objects. Almost immediately a strange, long limbed dwarf erupted from one of the objects dressed very colorfully, with a huge blister on the tip of its nose. It bounced between the objects while making attacks at us for a bit, until finally the stout dwarf dispatched it.

We burned everything, spent the night, and proceeded to Bartertown. We spent a week or two there while the more accomplished fellows I had joined up with met their respective trainers. I, of course, spent most of my time stomaching hurlg and asking around my favorite public house for any information as to where adventure could be found. Eventually, I got a tip of a homestead to the north plagued by some sort of beastly highwayman or something.

I informed the other adventurers and, once they were ready, we set out immediately. We found the homestead fairly easily by the beast-knawed corpses piled on the sides of the road. I immediately set up watch across the road in a small copse, and the stout Dob joined me, while the other Elf and the wee weird Windling set up watch in a small orchard in the compound of the family of dwarves who lived there.

Once night fell, a small parade of dwarven cadavermen came out of the house and shambled to the road. Pinky and I, of course, immediately charged. A battle ensued where I was knocked unconscious. A few days later I awoke thanks to the ministrations of the Elf Vaugn (no criticism of his abilities in general, but in battle he seemed more intent on tickling the creatures rather than slaying them.)

After some days of investigation which I deemed unnecessary, the adventurers finally agreed to burn the homestead to the ground. Unfortunately, the dwarves woke the next morning and immediately began rebuilding. I suspect there must be some Horror with a vested interest in keeping these night terrors alive. It's also unfortunate that I have no idea where, or even WHAT this Horror may be. But I tire of all this needless scribbling and I must attend to Pinky's glorious mane.

Food update!

I keep forgetting to update on the food!

Last night I made a green bean and pork stir fry in black bean sauce.

A week ago I made a tikki masalla pork curry.

Week five -- Vaugn

After I couldn't talk my way into the VIP fights in Gnarles Barkley, our troupe decided to head off in search of better luck in Barterstown.  Maybe more than a little eager to be rid of our hapless heroism (I think maybe this stone weight on my shoulder is wearing off on me... gross), the town let us leave without fuss.  And the worst part was, we didn't even get paid.  

But fortune smiled on us, as we came across a circus on our way.  "How serendipitous," I thought to myself.  What better place to collect a bunch of suckers with full wallets, than a circus?  I was only slightly phased by the copious number of dead bodies littering the grounds, and immediately went into the big tent.  I didn't find the bags of loot that I was really looking for, but rather a weird clown... thing.  It moved through clown tunneling, and tried to kill us.  Which is actually becoming a frequent event, now that I've met my present company.   We put up a valiant fight, and as evidenced by these sentences, we survived.  Unfortunately, there was no money to be had in the clown's accessories, or in the corpses outside.  It was beginning to look like another "Your good deed is its own reward" sort of adventure, until the tall dwarf found the cache cleverly hidden in the tent fabric folds.  After only a little... encouragement (to which I don't begrudge him at all, hell, I would have needed some too), he split it with the rest of us.  

We arrived in the big city, and preceded to train our disciplines.  I was lucky enough to find a teacher right away, and dove right into my studies.  Literally, there was a lot of diving.  I would have felt better if I had not been diving into rock piles and pits full of ... I don't even want to remember, but my windling teacher insisted that this was the best way to teach to me fly.  I kept trying to tell him that I _can't_ fly, but apparently my long and painful string of failures didn't convince him.  Mercifully, he eventually moved onto my next essential skill: party crashing.  Now, I've never needed to crash a party before, because I've always been invited, so I was sexcited to learn something new.  It all went fine and good, until we were discovered, and I learned that the ideal escape route was... wait for it... _to fly away_.  Yes, friends.  I fear that our standards for teaching excellence have fallen dangerous low.  Never have I repeatedly incurred so many broken bones in the name of an education.  I just hope that I fare better next time I want to train.  

After taking sufficient time to heal myself, we headed out on word of a rash of unsolved and scary-sounding murders.  Sure enough, we came upon a farmstead surrounded by bodies bearing strange claw marks.  The farm family seemed nice enough, so we set watch.  My shoulder windling and I stayed in the compound, and the tall dwarf and horse guy waited outside.  Maybe not so surprisingly, shambling blood-thirsty specters filed out of the house shortly after dark in search of our bait... I mean people on the street.  The whole family was duly accounted for, and after much, _much_ effort, we managed to put them all down.  And by "we," I, of course, mean, "me."  Yes, I was the sole survivor of this terrible fight -- only I was left to carry the bodies of my companions to safety, to care for and tend their wounds. ... Okay, I kicked them until woke up, and  refrained from spitting in their drinks like I normally do.  But the carrying part is really true!  It was hard.  Especially the horse. 

We went back to the farmstead once everyone was moving again, and tried to explain what had happened.  But how do you explain to a nice family that they turn into horrifying monsters at night and kill people?  They weren't really buying it, and I couldn't think of a lie fast enough.  But after another night, we learned more about their situation:  after dark, the monsters awake but the sweet family is still safe in their beds.  Efforts to remove the family from their house during monster time results in no injuries, even though they were dropped from a upstairs window.  (Of which I'm actually jealous.)  Even after burning the house down with the family inside, they still wake up fine.  It's really creepy, and something is very obviously wrong.  But after our close encounter with death, and the lack of burn-ability, I'm not sure what we can do.  Try and reason with them?  Try our hand at gold farming?  I mean, I'm sure some of the corpses on the street have wallets.  I don't know.  We'll see.     

(week 5) Dwarves and stuff

So like there was this battle, right, it was one of those fancy ass battles, and like one of our party got to go like see it, right. I was like "Who cares about some battle" and like "Hey why is my beer empty?". Yeah like I didn't want to go anyways.

Man I am so glad that battle is over. Now like maybe we can go do something fun, like adventuring or something. Man my axe is starting to rust and shit! So like we headed out of town, right, and headed to that big place where you can buy shit and get all circled and stuff.

So we were like walking and shit, you know just minding our own business and we like came up on a big ol' tent with a bunch of dead people laying in front. I was like "What the hell man? What the hell happened!?!?". The elf was like "I believe we should enter the tent and ascertain the nature of what happened here, there may be a horror involved". I was like "Man you talk gay bro" but I was cool to go in and check it out. Inside we found a bunch of odd shit, a tiny little carriage, a cool ass little canon and a weird little empty bag. About that time some huge ass Dwarf climbed out of the carriage! I was like "No way man! That ain't possible man!". Then it was on! We fought long and hard but totally kicked that Dwarf's ass! I looked everywhere for some treasure and just about gave up when I found a 1000 silver hid in the wall of the tent! I was like "Hell yeah, I am totally getting some kick ass armor!"

I bought some kick ass armor! But it totally hurt to put on! That's cool though cause it's some cool shit and I can't wait get it all bloody! After that I found a weaponsmith dude and followed him around for a week. He taught me some shit and like I feel like I learned some shit. That was like all wanted to do in the big place so I was totally ready to leave and try out my new armor! Bring on some horrors man!

Walking down some path somewhere, we found some dwarves. They like told us they had some bad problems and shit, and so we like offered to help out. Turns out they have some bad dudes that seem to come out at night and kill folks in front of their house. We set up camp a ways form the road and watched for some shit to go down. Woh man like those dwarves totally live 2 lives! They like came out ofthe house and like tried to kill us! I like totally killed a couple of them but then I can't remember no more shit ... guess they were just too tough or something.

Since we totally learned that the dwarves were somehow horrors, like totally bad folks and shit, some of the party dudes decided to burn down the house ... so they like totally did and shit! But it did no good, cause the dwarves woke up the next morning and were fine. Man those dwarves are totally horrors for sure!

(Week 5) Woeful Waking

In the early evening I made my merry way into the VIP tent to warily watch the bitter battles.  It was certainly an earnest education!

Afterwards our fierce fellowship began the tiresome trek from Gnarls Barkley to Bartertown.  Halfway there at the Rock of Nell we encountered a rather serious circus.  The laughing lunacy of happy Horror had slain several villagers.  But we dispatched harlequin horror with deadly dexterity.  After strenuous searching, Doughty Dob finally found some lucky loot. 
In the sultry city, I blithely boarded sprightly spirits and eagerly improved my sundry skills.  After that I sought a mighty master of the manifold neatherworlds to quicken my quest for second circle.  Wilde Oscar that wily operator expanded my intellect and widened my wits.  No summoned spirits to cloud our calculus but rather strong drink to strengthen desire.  A week later, though my head hurt and pulse pounded, the new knowledge of second circle helped me gain ground and train talents.

Following a rough rumor to its angry origin we navigated north.  After two days travel we found the unburied bodies of passers by.  The friendly farmer and his fine family denied knowledge of the deadly deeds.  Valiant Vaugn and I waited within the welcoming garth.  Dob and the Elven Cavalryman slept without.

An hour after the sun had set, the fear Cadavermen fared foully forth.  We battled them bravely nearly all overcome.  Valiant Vaugn the final one vanquished and dragged our bodies to the hopeful homestead.  In the misty morning the farm family came down stairs all unknown of the nightly mischief.

We slowly built a bulky sledge to comfortable carry the Cavalryman and his horse.  Then we directly decamped to the sylvan safety of remote (relatively) region.  We waited resting till all were healed and whole.  I found potent fungi to augment our arsenal.  We returned uncertain and definitely differed as to the preferred plan.

After due deliberation, we barred the doors of the framed farmhouse and I flew upward to oversee the windows.  On the upper storey slept the farm family.  I could not wake them.  While down below the Cadavermen's claws clicked on the doors.  We pulled the sleepers from the high perches with the help of the horse.  They did not wake.  Then we burned the house and the banshees within it.

The next morning the farmers awoke to awful dismay.  We wondered greatly at their lack of wounds.  They worked all day to rebuild their shelter while we watched wondering.  The next night we transfixed their bodies as they slept simply before the arising of the cursed Cadavermen.

In the misty morning, we heard the cramped cries of the friendly farmers now trapped within fallen frame of their haunted homestead.