Dark Sun Marauders (Season 3, Chapter 7)

These posts are from our DnD group's latest game.  The current adventure is a return to the world of Dark Sun.  In the previous seasons (the first run by me, the second run by Richard), the party were involved with hunting through Kalak's pyramid, confirming if the Sorcerer-King was truly dead, and retrieving the Orb of Dust.  The group is currently in Tyr, fighting against the invading Urik army.

The group were given barely enough sleep to get by on, but with the army a mere day's march away, no one was truly resting much.  As they moved out into the chaos of Tyr's streets, they were greeted by one of the guards, and ushered quickly to one of the templars in charge of defence.

"Finally!", was the gruff greeting they received when they arrived at the guardhouse.  "You are needed in at least half a dozen places right now - but most pressing is the front gates!"

After last night's fiery explosion, the engineers had tried to patch up the Caravan Gate as best they could, but it would not yet stand against an onslaught from the Urik army.  At the moment, they were trying to put the final touches on the strengthening of the outer layers of the gate, and complete the locking mechanism, but a squadron of halfling headhunters was picking off the workers and tearing down the plating before they could finish.  Following Pieter, an axe-wielding man with hair the colour of a late summer sunset, the group was quickly led through streets packed with folk wanting to escape the city before the siege pressing against those who had tried, and had been turned back by the guards.  Their task was to hold off these vicious halflings so that the workers could finish the job, and retreat inside.

That would have been easy enough, if it weren't for the silt sharks that a few of the headhunters had tamed and brought along.  These grey, leathery beasts swam through the dirt and sand, leaving a slippery path of quick-silt behind them, which caught Beren, and almost trapped others.  Their teeth were also most vicious, snagging Kal'kin at one point.

Still, even with Kulo, away helping put out the fires raging through the noble section, the team managed to keep the halflings at bay, and sent a few sharks down to the sandy depths.  The gates were repaired, they moved back inside, and the army scouts were locked out - for now.

They had barely finished reporting in when another cry went up - flyers! All had heard of the mighty Cloud Rays that floated through the skies deep in the desert.  However, none had turned them to warfare before - until Urik managed to collect some of the young. These creatures - only about 10ft across - made great mounts for the Urik templars.  These ones were surrounded by a handful of hatchlings, dashing through the air, and launching down at their enemies.  

The now-flying templars strafing attack wasn't the only thing to defend against - creeping through the shadows below, thri-kreen warriors ran towards the wall, quickly scaling them and leaping at those atop the wall.  Groups of soldiers, ex-slaves and other volunteers were spread out along the wall, attacking the Cloud Rays as they drew close, and trying to fight back the thri-kreen.  For a moment, Pieter pondered leaping atop one of the flying beasts, and the glory of riding the creature as it crashed to the ground sent shivers down his back.  

But glory was not his for the taking.  Instead, he played it safe, and lived on as just another faceless grunt in the war effort.  Still, once the walls were safe from invaders, he followed Kal'kin outside, and chased down the war machines being set up outside.

Kal'kin had always been fast, but now he seemed almost able to outrun a shot from one of the defiling-empowered trebuchets, as he charged at the machine, its crew and their guards single-handed.  One of the crew fell, and another was wounded, before the three half-giants turned and crushed the speedy insect into the ground.  Turning to face Kuoroar! and Beren, they presented a solid wall of muscle and flesh between their dying friend and Paelias' aid.  Taking down a half-giant and reviving a thri-kreen might not have been as climatic as surfing a cloud ray down the side of a city's wall, but it was clear that Kal'kin appreciated Pieter's actions all the same.

Sadly, the other teams did not fare so well.  The other six trebuches fell, but not a single other team returned to Tyr's walls.  Many good (or at least strong) folk were lost that day.

After taking an axe to his knee, Beren limped slowly off to the medic, with Paelias only barely supporting him.  Kuoroar! and Kal'kin travelled with Pieter, planning on returning to the temporary HQ, and debriefing again.  That was their plan - but when Kal'kin spotted figures running through the streets, dashing from shadow to shadow, they had to make a detour.  

The figures were clearly travelling magically - their forms were bulky enough that only fell means could hide the sound of their running. Kal'kin tried to move ahead of them, scouting around to get a better look, but instead positioned himself directly in the group's running path, and within moments, found himself surrounded by sturdy dray - bulky reptilian soldiers created by the sorcerer-king Dregoth.  As they fought, and died...and stood back up to fight again, Kuoroar! and Kal'kin recognised their abilities from another such fight.  Beneath the pyramid, the ziggurat in the centre of Tyr, they had fought such creatures.  They had dissolved into dust, reforming moments later. They had taken lethal blows and fought on despite them.  They were, in fact, undead.  

As they killed, rekilled, and killed them again, one phrase was spoken by the drey.  One phrase that, at first, was hidden behind the thickness of their accent.  This phrase seemed to be an urging, a plea, a request, despite their attacks.  And by the time the six drey had been defeated, a single word had been understood.  That word was a name: Thakok-An.  The name of the woman who had stolen the Orb of Dust from beneath their noses.

Dark Sun Marauders (Season 3, Chapter 6)

These posts are from our DnD group's latest game.  The current adventure is a return to the world of Dark Sun.  In the previous seasons (the first run by me, the second run by Richard), the party were involved with hunting through Kalak's pyramid, confirming if the Sorcerer-King was truly dead, and retrieving the Orb of Dust.  The group is currently readying Tyr against the invading Urik army.

There were six cells, six targets: the Caravan Gate, the Guard's Barracks, the Northern Tower, the Stadium Gate Tower, the Templar's District Wall, and the Trader's District marketplace.  With Mutami's cell captured, that cleared the Caravan Gate, but time was short, and the other cells needed to be brought down in the next few hours, or the city would beset alight.

The barracks were the closest target, and the group was able to reach them without much hassle.  Kal'kin found a few lookouts positioned on nearby rooftops, and though he made a bit of a noise taking the first one out, the others didn't offer much resistance.  They went down, and Mutami, with Beren close on his heels, kicked in the door.  The three members inside were quickly overpowered, and the urns recovered before they could be used.

The next cell - targeting the Northern Tower - proved more difficult.  Their leader was a scoundrel called Horne Tomorev, ironically known as "the healer", and his men were better prepared for combat.  Their blades were covered in the venom of a nocturnal rock lizard, which rendered predators temporarily blind so as to allow the lizard to escape.  They also blinded the party, but not with the same consequences.  Beren seemed to perform far better without his sight, and Mutami was able to catch a sniper through a small window, across a few streets, by sound alone.  With Kuoruar! and Kal'kin pairing up against him, Tomorev found he had caught his last runaway slave, and was dropped, messily, to the ground.

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

Travelling across to the other side of the city took time, which meant that when they turned up at the next cell's safe house, they had already moved along.  Knowing where the target was, this time, they set up the ambush.  Whilst Beren and Kuoroar! took up the roles of brothel bouncers (the real bouncers being strangely absent for the next hour or so), the others took to the rooftops, and waited out the arrival of Davica, an archer, and (as they soon discovered) a defiler-in-training.  The battle was fierce, raging back and forth across the empty market streets, with flash-bangs going off, and multiple snipers on rooftops.  Kal'kin and Mutami were forced to flee as Davica's life-sapping magical energies were revealed, but Paelias ensured that they did not fall to the dark powers. 

Despite their fellow smugglers falling, Davica's underlings were determined to start the fire that would sweep through so much of the area and cause wide-spread panic, but ultimately, they were thwarted.  With the urn pushed up against the building's wall, the last smuggler was killed, and the hazard eliminated.

Knowing they had little time to spare, Kal'kin still convinced Paelias and the others to travel slowly, giving plenty of time for them to rest, before they reached the Stadium Gate.  Their bodies were starting to show the exertion of the night's activities, and getting there a little bit late seemed better than arriving there without any stamina left!

Hur Angroc, or "Wall", was already leading his group to the gate when Kal'kin spotted them. The large half-giant turned, growled, and ordered his mul savages (disguised poorly in the armour of Tyr's soldiers) to hold them back.  And they would have been successful, too, if not for Mutami's suggestion, and Paelias' ability with his crossbow.  "Shoot the pot,", he said, "Blow it up before they get to the gate, and take them out, too!"

The shot was a long one - the distance was significant, and there were multiple bodies moving about between Paelias and the target.  Plus, the urn wasn't as large a target as the Hydra he had felled the other day!  But still, the tinker readied his bow, set fire to the bolt, and took his shot.  The burning bolt sailed true, and the resulting explosion took out the smugglers and guards, and coated the half-giant in sticky flames, before starting a significant fire in the immediate area.  Fortunately, the blast wasn't near the gate, so the only structural damage was to a few nearby houses; and the area was well-to-do enough that streets were wide, houses were sturdily constructed, and the chance for mitigating fires was minimal.  And so the party turned, and raced for the Templar's Wall.

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

The hour of the attack was almost upon them, and Mutami was struggling to hide his nervous looks.  Helen Gayle, the bounty hunter from Urik was somewhere nearby - but as always, she kept to the shadows.  Two smugglers moved towards the wall with their urn, as various watchers waited upon rooftop and behind dark alleyways for those who would stop their sabotage.  They had seen the blast go off - too early, and too small.  The fire told them what they needed to know, that another cell had been compromised, and their mission, too, was under threat.

Being prepared only helped so much - Kuoroar! was able to sprint past guards, whilst Kal'kin skittered across wall and rooftop towards their targets.  Even when Helen appeared, along with her shadowy assassin friends, they only slowed Beren and Mutami's advance, they couldn't stop it....until a still-burning Hur reappeared on the scene.  Crying out in a mad rage, the flaming half-giant charged at his would-be killer, Paelias, and brought much rage to bear upon the poor eladrin.  The tide had turned.

Kuoroar! was fighting off Helen,  who was struggling to strangle the barbarian with her leather garrotte; Mutami had suffered one-too-many arrow-related internal injuries; Kal'kin was having to hide from the rooftop archers after ensuring the elf did not immediately die; Paelias was knocked out with a hefty blow of Hur's shield; and Beren, despite carving his way through numbers of his kin, was still being pushed around by the crazed Hur, who was still intent on stomping on Paelias' head.  For a moment, it looked like the urns would be set, and the Templar's Wall would come down.

With a shove, Kuoroar! caught Helen between his back and the wall, and she collapsed, the cord about his neck finally allowing him to breathe freely.  Kal'kin threw caution to the wind, and scuttled up the wall, to tear the archer apart.  And Hur's rage could only last so long - his injuries were already grievous from the explosion, and Beren only had to focus on them, and the hefty giant fell.  Paelias was safe, and Mutami had regained consciousness, and even managed to pick up the urn.

That was when the Caravan Gate exploded.

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

Kal'kin didn't have to think hard.  Mutami, despite acting for them, was clearly still playing the part of a Urik spy.  he had been the one to encourage Paelias to trigger one urn, and even now was holding another - was he taking it away, or moving it closer to its target?  The explosion from the Caravan Gate only clarified things: his first piece of information was that it was his cell that was targeting the Caravan Gate.  Clearly, that was now shown to be a lie - had there been a seventh group all this time, or was his group never entirely captured?

Kal'kin's thoughts didn't dwell on this for long.  Even as the various pieces were coming together in his head, his dagger was flying through the air, and embedding itself into Mutami's chest.  He was already injured - the blade just finished things off.  The elf dropped to the street, and the urn he was holding fell with him.  The liquid within spilled forth; without a trigger, it didn't erupt, but when brought into the air, it still caught light.  With quick medical attention, Mutami's chest wound could have been recoverable; but the fire-goo within the urn sealed his fate.

The intense heat left Mutami quite well done, but Kal'kin didn't mind.  One freshly barbecued elf was plenty for a single thri-kreen the enjoy.

Dark Sun Marauders (Season 3, Chapter 5)

These posts are from our DnD group's downtime chatter.  The current adventure is a return to the world of Dark Sun.  In the previous seasons (the first run by me, the second run by Richard), the party were involved with hunting through Kalak's pyramid, confirming if the Sorcerer-King was truly dead, and retrieving the Orb of Dust.  The group is currently readying Tyr against the invading Urik army. 

His wounds were severe, his skin blistering and peeling underneath the lengths of chain that wrapped around his body, but Kulo, was not defeated.  Sure, he had fallen before the hideous hydra, and was still fighting to regain his consciousness when Paelias delivered the fateful arrow.  That annoyed him - it would have been something to see, and something he wondered if it was by pure chance, or repeatable skill.  Time would tell, he was certain.  But for now...


Kulo, stepped across to the squirming mul, and gazed at him in contempt.  There was no mercy in his eyes, no desire for the smuggler's well-being.  Stopping about ten feet from his blistered body, Kulo, sent out his chain, which easily caught Xalos' ankle and, with a tug that probably sprained, if not dislocated, the man's ankle, Kulo, slid their captive across into the middle of the group. 

He made no effort to free the mul from his bindings - had he caught the man himself, instead of 'rescuing' him from the strange fiery cultists, he probably would be in chains, not ropes.  "Quit ya moving!" he barked roughly, "It'll only be worse for ya if ya manage to get 'em off!"

When he felt confident that the mul was going to stay still, he began his questioning.  "Now, tell us - who were them that we just fought?  Why did they git ta have the fun with your smuggler buddies out back, and we had to singe and burn in here? What were ya all doing here?"

Xalos struggles on a little more, though somewhat half-heartedly once Kulo,'s chain had wrapped itself around his leg, causing not an inconsiderable amount of wincing. Finally he lays on the ground looking up at the half-giant, "I don't really know who or what they are. Some kind of snake-men. We ran into them down here when we started digging tunnels...", he says, gritting his teeth against the pain of his ankle.

"Fine. Ya screwed up." Kulo, was happy to accept that.  His enemy being weak was natural, normal. Still, he moved in a little closer, letting his chains snake variously over the mul's flesh. They had cooled significantly since the fiery battle, but their touch was still warmer than normal, and the residual heat stirred recent memories in Xalos' burnt and blistered skin.

Leaving in close, so that the mul could smell his breath - almost a torture itself! - he hissed another question through clenched teeth. "But what were ya all doing, digging here in the first place?"

Kulo,'s twisting of the chains elicit some satisfactory gasps and winces from the stonemason, but Mul's were known for their toughness and Xalos regained a semblance of his defiant mood, "I would have thought you might have worked that out by now, you addle-brained half-giant", he said with a sneer, his lips curling to add to the insolent tone.

 
Xalos' response - or rather, his lack of an adequate response - did not make Kulo, happy.  "Hah, look who is dumb one, now!" he sneered, placing a large foot on the mul's shoulder.  "If'n I figured it out, why'd I ask you?"  Making sure to put a lot of his weight down on that one foot, and twist it so as to grind his shoulder into the hard floor, Kulo, looked to the others.  "Don't think he wants to be talking to us, even when we stop him from burning. Should we be putting him back, to finish burning, or start opening him up, and look for answers inside?" 

Whilst waiting for an answer, Kulo, looped some of his barbed chain through the mul's still-tied arms, and pulled it tight.  Sliding underneath Xalos' underarm, the sharp pieces of bone, obsidian, and hardened wood pierced the softer flesh, and wedged securely in.  Shifting his foot from shoulder to wrists, he applied enough weight to press Xalos' bound wrists into his gut, and ensure he could no longer move his arms.  The chain was trapped there securely, for now.

Kuoroar! moved forward from where he had been sitting, and added his own voice. "If he ain't gonna answer our questions, put him back in. We have no time for fools who don't appreciate their skins being saved!" Sure, there was no fire any more - the strange liquid had burnt off - but there were plenty of bottles left to make more!  "Look, you got two choices. You prove to be a friend by helping us and we let you go, or you prove yourself to be an enemy, and we don't leave you behind alive, on the chance you backstab us. What's it gonna be?"

Quietly enough that he could be mistaken for failing to whisper, but loudly enough that everyone heard him, Kulo, mutters under his breath, "Please pick enemy, please pick enemy, please pick enemy..."

 Xalos frowns at the strangely muttering half-giant, then looks up at the younger one as he joins in the threats. The spikes of Kulo,'s chain now digging in rather uncomfortably makes the Mul wriggle slightly, which in itself seems only to cause further pain, so he takes a committee decision to stay still.

The sneer on the Mul's face, slowly fades to a wry smile, "Friends? Why not, eh? What sort of help might such likely fellows such as yourself be needing?"

Sounding like the child, and not like the parent in the relationship, Kulo, whines at Xalos' decision.  "Oh, Kuloroar!, why'd you have ta give him a choice?  I wanted ta kill him..."  Sitting down gruffly - on the mul's thigh - he held his chain tightly, and sighed deeply.  "Fine then...what were ya smuggling, and who were ya working for?"



The mul, strangely, didn't take Kulo,'s word that he would not be killed, and instead, demanded to be brought to the authorities.  There, he claimed, he would talk.  With their word already given, and the promise of information at hand, the party started their trek out of the caverns, and back to the surface of the city.  There, Kulo, and Beren took Xalos back to the templars that had initially sent them on their missions, whilst the others returned home to rest.  Kulo, claimed he could do the task alone, but Beren thought Xalos had an increased chance of survival should he accompany the bloodthirsty half-giant.

The following morning, when everyone reported back to the templars, there was some further news.  Xalos had given some names, and eventually spilled on one attack scheduled for later tonight.  Other groups of smugglers and those the smugglers had smuggled into the city were even now working on placing more of the dangerous jars of liquid fire at strategic points throughout the city's defences.  When the time was right, they would be released, to cause chaos, death, and destruction, allowing the oncoming army an easier time at taking over the city. 

A small strike-force, including the exhausted Kulo, and their thri-kreen contact, Ix'it, had taken down the communications cell, but the jars had already been transported throughout the city.  One of the captured would-be saboteurs, an elf named Mutami, had agreed to not only give names and locations, but help the group take the smugglers down...in return for some spare ceramic, and not being killed for being a traitor. 

Before they departed, the very weary Kulo, took Kuoroar! aside, and with a grin, pointed out a new adornment hanging around his neck.  A bloody ear.  "Xalos didn't want to name names, he kept trying to play us, so I gave him some incentive.  This is my trophy!"  After a moment's pause, he held out a hand, and said "Thought you'd like one, too - there' pretty rare!"  In his opened hand lay another bloody ear, a pair for the one hanging about his neck.

Another Trip to Neverwinter

It's interesting how many times games come back to Neverwinter.  Neverwinter Nights was a great step forward in DnD computer games, and I had a great deal of fun with it.  The option to play alongside others, to create your own adventures, and to play in other adventures, was a real special and rare thing for the time.  With my love of the 4th Edition of DnD, I was excited when I initially heard that there was to be a computer game based upon it.  That excitement didn't last a whole long time, however.

Cryptic's initial idea was to have five standard characters, each with race, gender and class locked, and to play from there.  And that's about where I stopped keeping up to date with the news.  It felt like going back to the Diablo 2 character choice - which, mind you, wasn't bad for D2; it just wasn't Dungeons and Dragons.  DnD is about choice, about customisation, and about creating your character how you like.  So, when the open beta went live, I decided to check it out again.  And fortunately, things had changed.

Now, you can choose gender, choose one of seven races (more coming), and take one of five classes (also with more coming).  Right there, that's a total of seventy options, a great improvement to the initial five.  Plus - it's free, so I jumped in.



First of all, I'm not a big MMO player, and I've never played an MMO via a subscription (I don't have enough time, with my other hobbies, to make it worthwhile).  I have played a lot of various RPG or ARPG games, the ones most similar to this being Diablo, Torchlight, Neverwinter Nights and even Fallout 3.  You could even draw similarities between it and Jade Empire, or Knights of the Old Republic, if you wanted to.  Like Diablo / Torchlight, it involves a lot of clicking, killing monsters, and grabbing loot.  But the camera is not fixed, leading me to feel more within the game (as in Fallout, or KotOR).  As I will explain later, the item / levelling system is much more similar to the ARPGs than the more role-playing games.  The areas seem relatively large, and nicely populated (though, there are often congestions around critical plot points, quest givers, and doors).  The setting feels "alive" more than the other games I have listed.  Streets bustle with movement, even if some of that movement is another PC hopping about the place, or someone riding a giant spider.

However, what excitement of choice there was when I started playing quickly diminished when I started completing quests.  I understood that, being an MMO, many of the quests would be "kill five of these", or "gather seven of those".  I wondered at how they would change the action economy of 4e, especially what they would do with immediate actions, into a computing sense.  I've seen them used well in a turn-based Facebook game, but how they would work in a real-time game?  Well, sadly, that question won't be answered now.  because they didn't.

Cryptic took familiar names, and the very general idea of at-will / encounter / daily powers, and ignored everything else.  They have built up a system where a PC starts with around a thousand hit points, where AC acts as damage reduction, and where such things as "Power", "Recovery", and "Armour Penetration" are more important than our good old ability scores.  The changes were evident as I levelled up - one point every level, which could either grab me a new power, or upgrade one of my current ones.  Gain enough levels, and I could finally gain feats...which are not feats.  Don't expect interesting perks or character changing abilities here - the feats are simple, basic, +1% or +2% bonuses to a number of different abilities.

Now - don't get me wrong - these aren't particularly bad choices, nor bad design; it's just not what I was expecting, nor what I was hoping for.  I realised that a perfect electronic form of the 4th edition of Dungeons and Dragons was not possible, but I saw what was done with Neverwinter Nights, and I had hoped for something more than this. So as it was, I was disappointed.



When creating characters for DnD, you get a lot of choices.  Even at first level, and focusing solely on class powers, you choose two at-wills, an encounter, and a daily.   At the moment, for a rogue, there are 12 level 1 at-wills, 16 encounters, and 14 dailies, meaning if everything else about the character was the same, I could still have almost 15,000 different possibilities of power choices.  Sure, not all of them would be great, or even viable for your character, but there was still that wealth of options and possibilities that meant that any two rogues could really be different.

Sadly, that aspect is not found in Neverwinter.  The rogue gets two at-wills, and doesn't even get a third choice until level 20.  In fact, by the time you are at level twenty, you have had 20 points to split between 12 powers.  Each power can be increased with a second point (typically, for +10% damage), but that's it.  And, considering you can only have two daily, two utility, and three encounter powers active, only nine of those twelve possible powers are worth putting points into.  Not only do you not have the breadth of choice, it is most likely that every 20th level rogue is remarkably similar to each other, at least in power choice.

The lack of customisation carries throguh with 'feats', seeing as they are giving small background bonuses that are not evident in a character's performance.  Who would notice a 2% difference in at-will damage in the middle of combat?  Even the choice of gear is sadly not there.  Rogues only use daggers / short blades, and always use two of them.  There's no choice for other weapons, for bows, for an alternate weapon layout.  So again, every rogue ends up looking similar, fighting similarly, and the entire breadth of customisation found in 4e is lost.



And yet, I've put a remarkable number of hours into the game so far.  Because, despite all the issues above, it is a fun experience.  It isn't what I hoped for - an electronic form of DnD 4e - but it is a fun Action RPG.  And whilst the levelling system was not what I hoped for, it does work.  Sure, I could do with more options, with a way not to waste those early points, and for bonuses to powers that wasn't simply +10% damage (how about more charges for the throwing daggers? A longer range teleport? Something to change / boost each power other than damage?), and I would feats that worked like feats, but for the system they have given us, it works.  Crazy levels of hit points works, because with it, there can be smaller, more subtle variations in weapon damage.  With larger numbers, there can be more items falling in between the significant milestones, and thus the eternal search for better gear - even if it is only slightly better - is maintained. 

And they have the "keep going for more" aspect working well.  The mini-games of levelling your professions, the come-back-every-day-and-pray aspect of increasing your divinely gifted coins, and the various other small rewards encourage you to keep coming back, keep being involved.  I don't know yet how long they will work for, but they have brought me back enough to get past my initial "not 4e" disappointment.  They haven't convinced me to actually pay for anything, as even the cost of expanding your bag space (~$10) is quite steep.  The best mounts are about $40, and the ultimate "Hero of the North" pack is a whopping $200.  But still, people are buying them, so for now, it would seem that the high-end system is working.  And if that means I can continue to play for free, that is keeping me coming back! 

Because it isn't 4e, but it is enjoyable.

Dark Sun Marauders (Season 3, Chapter 4)

These posts are from our DnD group's latest game.  The current adventure is a return to the world of Dark Sun.  In the previous seasons (the first run by me, the second run by Richard), the party were involved with hunting through Kalak's pyramid, confirming if the Sorcerer-King was truly dead, and retrieving the Orb of Dust.  The group is currently readying Tyr against the invading Urik army. 

Note to self: magic elf-thing can be useful.

We reached the end of the tracks. No pit falls, no false dead end this time. Just a large chamber behind a heavy gate. A gate reinforced, strong enough to keep us out. It took lots of effort to lift it up, and we never got it very high. Kept dropping it, so the elf-thing - e-lad-rin? - "Pay less" - used his magic to walk right through it. It tickled, I'm sure of that, but there was none of that defiling that people talk about. No pain, no destruction, just one moment, he was next to us; the next, he was standing in the middle of the room!

It was impressive, I admit, but would have been even better if he didn't end up hanging from the type, surrounded by hungry snakes! At least, with his weight on the type, the gate was easier to lift, and as Beren held it up, Kuoroar! and I slipped through. So many snakes, swarms and swarms, and the three of us left to fight them, whilst Beren played with the gate. Lifting, dropping, lifting again, like it was all some game, some strange exercise. At one point, he was even lying down under the gate, maybe working on his pectorals?

Through the snake-filled chamber, there was a series of older, more room-like rooms. The old natural caves was replaced with corridors, doors and...a whole lot of blood. We had found the smugglers, and too late to take revenge. Too late to question them. Too late to get any information, save from a single name, and a direction. Whatever the smugglers had come across, it had been violent (good!), and left very few with a majority of their limbs attached.

The room that the disarmed smuggler pointed us to was an eye-opener, indeed. For starters, it was huge - it made the zombie tunnels feel like the slave pens by comparison. Secondly, not only was it large, but it was purposeful. Some strange groove was cut into the ground; a circle connected to an arc, with robed figures standing all around.  Two were larger - larger even than my son or me! And, there was another one of them smugglers, only, this one was all tied up, strapped to the altar.

There was also a large statue at one end of the room, and a whole lot of ceramic pots at the other. But that wasn't important, because Kuoroar! and Beren had already jumped down and attacked. The mul must have been eager for blood, after failing to get involved in the last skirmish. As usual, he went in too deep, without backup. Kuoroar! started working his way around the cultists, but with each fiery death, the centre of the room intensified. Before we could stop them, two cultists poured...stuff from the pots onto the trench, and fire leaps about, burning through the cultists, and bringing on whatever foul magic was happening in the middle!

Well, we fought on, as we had to, and with Paelias' helpful magic, our weapons shone brighter, hit harder, and even aided in our healing.  We were rolling on through the battle. But then, the circle was complete, and the greatest beast I have ever seen was summoned into our presence.  If I were not alive now, I would swear that it was the dragon himself - but this beast, though scaly and spiting fire, had no wings or legs, and had four heads!!  We all cheered when Kuoroar!'s sword cut one of the heads off, and knew victory was imminent...but before we could press the advantage, another two heads had grown in its place.  This happened three times before we slew the beast, and for a while, the real threat of there being no more space in the room was more than just a little concerning!

But, I step up too fast.  I must make careful notes, or else I won't learn from the experiences.  We didn't fight well enough - the demon-lizard was spewing fire as well as blood from axe cut, sword stroke, and more than a few nicks of my trusty chains.  There were also half a quiver of arrows protruding into it, mind you.  But then Kuoroar! went down, and I couldn't get close enough to revive him.  Forgetting the protective boon Paelias had placed on my gear, I crumpled under the heat of the thing's saliva, coating my flesh.  And even through the haze, I could hear Beren collapsing in all his armour.  So - and it is hard to admit this - it was the elf-thing, the eladrin who saved the day.  He must have gotten lucky, found the main head, and pierced it's eye with a bolt, or something like that.  Whatever he did, it worked where our cuts and beheadings had failed, and the brute fell to the floor, before our unconscious bodies could become little more than charred remains.

So yes, the tinkerer did good.  He proved his worth, and I won't hold any more grudges against the like of a thin elf-relative hanging around in our battles.  We must step up our own tactics, too, or else we may not be so lucky next time.  And, one of these days, I really need to get around to learning to write, so I can remember all this stuff tomorrow...

Dark Sun Marauders (Season 3, Chapter 3)

These posts are from our DnD group's latest game.  The current adventure is a return to the world of Dark Sun.  In the previous seasons (the first run by me, the second run by Richard), the party were involved with hunting through Kalak's pyramid, confirming if the Sorcerer-King was truly dead, and retrieving the Orb of Dust.  The group is currently readying Tyr against the invading Urik army. 

Kulo, did not like the dark.  Some might even say that it made him angry...but he was already angry.  The dark merely made him broody as well.  And the sled ride did little to change either emotion.

The smugglers had disappeared by the time the party was well enough to continue after them, and though there was only one tunnel leading out from the cave beneath the potter's shop, it soon became two; and their paths continued to split.  This was not an easy game of chasing down their foe, rather, they had to search slowly, and after their first slip-up, a little more carefully, too.

The tunnels were lined with a rickety set of tracks, most likely used by the smugglers to quickly take their stolen goods away. In all, one could say it was an impressive infrastructure, large and well-maintained, if you could look past the occasional pit-fall.  How it had been built under Tyr was a mystery they didn't bother with just yet.  Rather, the group grabbed some of the simple sleds, attached them to the rails, and raced off into the darkness.

Kulo, took the lead, trying to hold onto the wooden sled with one hand, and the flickering torch that threatened to go out at every turn with his other.  The small sphere of light revealed all too little of the passageway, and with the others clacking their way behind him, thoughts of controlling the sled were left behind.  There were a few occasions where the opportunity to catch a lever as he raced past were presented, which would have sent him down one of the other paths, but he did not want to risk dropping the torch - or letting go of the sled.  Plus, he thought, if the others raced passed here, chances are they didn't have time to change the levers after they went down one of the forks!

Unfortunately, though it seemed a sound hypothesis, Kulo, had never even heard of the term "hypothesis", and they ended up sprawled over the floor of a damp cavern...without Kuoroar!. Kal'kin was quick to take the other torch around, scouting the edges of the cave, until his light went out.  As he struggled to re-ignite it, Kulo,'s torch went out, and the party were left in inky blackness. And, naturally, were attacked.

The skirmish proved difficult, as none of the party excelled at attacking things they couldn't see, but once they managed to get a light back on long enough to reveal the creature, it was easy enough to finish it off.  The shadowy, slimy lump left behind was curious, but Kulo, was more interested in his son, who had finally returned to the group after taking a wrong turn.

Together once more, the team back-tracked to the last turn, and continued on the descent, hoping to find their foe without another dead end.  Fortune was not with them, as they were instead lead into a spider's den - spiders that were as large as a horse, and who could phase through the air as if the concept of space meant nothing.  That fight was decidedly more sticky, with Kal'kin's fast-moving attacks being turned away by the creature's ability to throw its enemy through space.  Even Beren struggled, his usual slow nature only accented by the webs used to catch the party.

Once more, they trekked back up the tunnels, and took an alternate route.  This time, surely, they were going the right way...but they did not have the opportunity to confirm it.  Underneath Kulo,'s bulk, a section of weak tracks collapsed, throwing him, Beren, Kal'kin, and Paelias (their eladrin tinker companion) down the crevice below.  Kuoroar! only just managed to stop before he, too, fell down the gaping underground hole, but that stop allowed him to descend at a much more leisurely pace.  

They had fallen into a collection of rooms - caves, really - connected by smaller, man-sized tunnels.  Everything was, of course, dark.  It took time to get the torches set up, but nothing seemed to stir - not until they had made their way through four different caverns, each with their own collection of dead husks of other lost folk - adventurers, smugglers, prisoners, or whatever they once were was unclear.  What was known was that they had died down here, and not by natural causes.  Their life, their bodily fluids, all had been sucked away, leaving just husks of their former selves behind.  Dried husks, scattered over the floor.  

As the group was starting to think that climbing out quickly was a good idea, the thrax attacked.  They must have waited until the party was in the worst possible position - Kal'kin, out front and scouting, took the brunt of the attack, whilst Beren and Kulo, were trapped in the tunnel, and Kuoroar! was prevented from charging into battle.  Thankfully, Paelias was ready to empower the group with his restorative magic, keeping them not only on their feet, but giving them numerous enchantments to tip the scales in their favour.  The thri-kreen almost ended up being a husk a number of times, but the dead were, ultimately, returned to their proper state, and the all-but-broken party huddled together, their torch-light flickering low, and their thoughts on just how they were going to get out.

And Kulo, dwelt on just how much he hated the dark.

Dark Sun Marauders (Season 3, Chapter 2)

These posts are from our DnD group's latest game.  The current adventure is a return to the world of Dark Sun.  In the previous seasons (the first run by me, the second run by Richard), the party were involved with hunting through Kalak's pyramid, confirming if the Sorcerer-King was truly dead, and retrieving the Orb of Dust.  The group is currently readying Tyr against the invading Urik army. 

Kulo, was angry.  Yes, still angry.  His emotions over the last few weeks had wavered between "angry" and "really angry", which, in part, was what caused the spiked chains he wore around his shoulders to change.

Magic had destroyed the world - but that was magic in the hands of people, defilers who sapped the life energy from everything around them in order to fuel their own powers.  The magic hanging around Kulo,'s neck was different, as was most of the magic that found itself as enchantments in the various (but rare) items he and his friends had discovered.  And thanks to his anger, to his palpable rage, Kulo,'s chains now twisted and warped in his hands far more than they once had.  The links of stone, bone and leather were almost becoming an extension of his own emotions.  The hate radiating from the chain was palpable to those nearby, as it wraps itself around the half-giant.  If the gladiator had known of demons and their kin, he could perhaps have made the connection between what his chains were becoming, and the adornment worn by those in the abyss.  Sadly, this was not the case.

With nothing left to do but wait out the invading force's arrival, Kulo, grew increasingly restless.  The ex-slaves he tried to train seemed to have reached their peak, and taking out his frustrations on them only resulted in hampering both their morale, and Tyr's numbers of able-bodied soldiers. If there was more that he could teach them in the scant few days left, surely he would have stayed.  But they slowly stopped wanting to spar with him, and turned instead to refining their abilities with each other.

When Kuoroar! and Kal'kin opted to help Beren out with a little down-time enforcing, Kulo, begrudgingly came along.  He wasn't the best option for uncovering Urik spies or sympathisers, but neither were any of the others.  Brute strength would have to do where a quick tongue and diplomatic attitude would fail.  Plus, there was talk in the mission outline of hidden weapon stashes! 

Algoth was a merchant, selling pots and urns from many distant cities...but perhaps a few too many from Urik.  Another thri-kreen by the name of Ix'it had been spying on his operations, and so the group moved to check them out.  Naturally, the shop was closed when they arrived, and Kal'kin went and unlocked the door before Kulo, could bash it in.  That made the half-giant angry - angry enough that when he had dragged one of the larger, sand filled urns inside, he decided the best way to confirm there were no weapons within was to break it open.  There was a great mess, but sadly, no hidden weapons.

The others discovered the clue that lead them onwards (this also angered Kulo,), which was a strange marking on the bottom of many pots.  Kulo, recalled it had something to do with a house, or another city, or other power, but filled with his typical rage, he really couldn't recall much more than that.  In the end, they moved onwards, out the back of the shop, and down into the warehouse.  That was where they met the smugglers.

Although, "met" might not be an entirely accurate description.  "Fought" would be closer, "beaten, maimed,  and eventually killed" more accurate yet.  These fellows were lead by another half-giant, and definitely had both strength and speed to their numbers.  Fortunately, whilst Kal'kin brought speed (managing to not only harass the goods line, but take down many of their number), Kuoroar! and Kulo, brought strength.  And, Kulo, might acknowledge after a few strong ales, Beren handled his own well enough.

The fight was vicious from the gladiator's point of view - if it wasn't for Paelias (the replacement Eladrin the templars had offered up), Kulo, might not have lived through it.  That definitely made him grumpy!  As it stood, Beren wasn't in a great position to ever seriously look at procreation in his future, after a few of the smugglers went to work on his more tender bits with their barbed, hooked whips.  Kulo, was proud of his son's battle presence, though even this made him angry - why was his body failing him already? Why couldn't he be stronger, faster, tougher?  And the over-grown insect, Kal'kin, had proven himself an able part of the group, as it - he - leapt about the room, stabbing here and clawing there.  But ultimately, the skirmish still left Kulo, angry.

Some had escaped.  Kulo, had managed to catch the last smuggler who tried to leap through the trapdoor, his chain digging into the soft flesh about his neck, and the smuggler's own weight snapping his neck as Kulo, held the other end of the chain firmly.  But there had been others working beneath the warehouse, others who had taken the goods passed down to them, and who were all gone, by the time the party was in a state to follow.  And so, back in the warehouse, Kulo, fumed.