In Which We Quickly Become Impoverished Again.
The perils of wealth fortunately did not need to preoccupy us for long. They say that it can change a person, not necessarily for the better; that it puts temptation infront of the weak; destroys the need for tempering self control and corrupts those with the power that it brings. It would have been nice to test those theories, but our buried wealth had already slipped through our grasping fingers well before the end of this paragraph.*
*Told you it was quick
Kasbo’s little friend had developed an enterprising streak that involved her acquisition of a vast horde of treasure discovered in the desert by her agents. What luck that she had chanced upon such a fortune. How nice to see lady luck smiling on one who had endured so much.*
*Kasbo would like to make clear that he feels that he was part of the solution despite the fact that his innovative recovery plan involving a life of prostitution was never implemented, the night elf had little to do with anything. Much.
She generously offered to employ us in her new company and we graciously accepted her invitation for gainful employment, as we were fresh out of employers, quests and fabulous riches. North then by luxury zeppelin to the town of Everlook, except that we were dropped well short at a village a few days west amidst some local firbolgs. The firbolg is a taciturn, bear-like creature who doesn’t talk to anybody unless they have done something to earn their respect. So we won’t ever be talking to any of them.
Apparently these firbolgs were engaged currently in a civil war with the neighbours who thoughtlessly had hides of a slightly different hue. Whether they were worthy of respect we did not know, as any additional information on this topic was likely to be sourced from our uncommunicative friends.
We decided to head east across the moorland towards distant Everlook. This involved a journey in somewhat cold conditions, but we were all warmly dressed* and were heartened by the fact that we would definitely not be going anywhere near the extremely dangerous forest, that we all agreed lay in completely the other direction.
*Except Fuq’ Witt who was wearing an unfashionable cardigan left over from Peter Gabriel’s Sledgehammer video, circa 1986.
We travelled east then, only to be ambushed by members of the other firbolg tribe, who we filleted delicately and with some panache after their unprovoked attack. After burying them, we reached a way station where a handy firbolg shaman from faction one operated an extortionately priced night in the warm service.
We explained that we had been attacked and forced to slay some of his enemies, hoping for a substantial discount. However, firbolg logic apparently operates on a different level as instead he raised his prices in thanks. He also refused accommodation to Kasbo who had unwisely tried a little trickery, and he spent the night freezing outside as a result. In the morning he had to have his cute little nose thawed from the window with a blow torch.
We journeyed onward, Puderillo scouting above and able to see the distant destination. We then encountered a Night elf on the road, who explained that he had a task for anyone interested in rewards and experience points.* As a result we struck south towards ruins on the shores of a great lake, seeking a great crystal, and forgot about our original mission so completely that I cannot even recall details beyond the fact that survivors were to receive one thousand gold coins in payment.
*We were powerless to resist of course
Trees closed about us ominously and Puderillo could see nothing beneath the canopy though he still fluttered up to check our bearings from time to time. One of the things he failed to spot was a giant spider that swung down and grabbed Plainsweaver. Reacting swiftly I fired a couple of arcane missiles, severing the spider’s legs and causing the arachnid to drop the Tauren. We fled. Heroically of course.
Later as we continued more warily, a huge worm burst from the ground. I shouted to everyone to freeze as the beast ‘saw’ by sensing vibrations. These huge beasts were impregnably armoured and prized by dark mages for experimentation and ingredients for fell sorceries. It turned its sightless head ominously in our direction.
Everyone stood still except Fuq’ Witt, who tried to climb a tree, doubtless fearing for the safety of her cardigan and priceless Yorkshire pudding recipe. The worm burrowed straight towards her and burst from the ground, revealing the immense body of heavily armoured segments which repelled several weapons that we deployed against it. Desperate circumstances called I felt, for desperate measures.
I reached for my trusty wand, which has never of course failed me, and deployed a mystical powerful fire elemental of enormous power that instantly destroyed our enemy. Sadly as the immortal Kenny Everitt’s arguably greatest creation would have said at this juncture, ‘All our clothes fell off!’ Well, were burned off in a searing flash together with all our hair, unwanted or not.
We vacated the clearing and limped away, many of us seriously injured. We did salvage a few worm scales from the corpse that we thought might make useful shields or armour with the right amount of work. We were now even colder, though we kept our spirits up laughing at Plainsweaver’s genitalia. I at least no longer have to explain to my comrades how I became known as Cedrico the Magnificent.
Those of us of any intellect* were in communication with spirits who had warned us of the unquiet souls that lay in the ruins ahead. These were bound to items that would have to be destroyed to lay them to rest in an echo of the banshee experience of a few weeks previously.** We also received a great deal of plot exposition information that we failed to write down, though much was crystal related and the spirit of an arch mage Meinius was mentioned in what sounded like big boss terms.
*Amazingly there are two of us who fit this unlikely description
**An early sign that the GM is running out of ideas
We arrived at the ruins and immediately came under attack from the souls of the elves corrupted by the crystal. They swarmed out of the ruins, but they were initially insubstantial and little threat, however as we scattered to destroy the items to which they were bound, they took sharper form and began to cause damage. The spirits were bound to anything from swords to elk antlers and we destroyed them merrily.
Kasbo in particular was putting on a fine display of tumbling but we had been further worn down by the many attacks, so it was fortunate that we were not about to be attacked by a huge horde of zombies emerging from their snow chrysalis’s, split up as we were and separated by the fighting with the spirits, many of us badly wounded, all of us largely naked and disorientated by the snowy landscape.
Did I say it was fortunate? Sorry, I meant ‘unfortunate’ and I accidentally inserted the word ‘not’ there too. I’ll give you a moment to reread that paragraph with those amendments, then come back here. OK? Of course it was all Plainsweaver’s fault; he seemed to trigger the attack when he smashed the heavy beam containing the essence of the final spirit. *
*I should stress that this was by no stretch a heroic deed, basically, he fell on it, and things he falls on tend to break and stay broken.
Zombies were rising from the ground everywhere about us and suddenly we were all involved intimately in a struggle to the death. They were slow moving, but there were plenty of them and I was stunned and rescued by Puderillo who distracted my attackers from my body. Recovering, I killed a couple that were threatening Fuq’Witt. They also proved vulnerable to magic and four more were destroyed by my spells.
Kasbo however had been cut off from the rest of us and lay critically injured until Puderillo alerted me and I rushed to his aid, after all, I didn’t want to see any of his valuables falling into the wrong hands.* I managed some critical first aid and the rest of us managed to bring him back with the benefit of a vial of green liquid that we had looted earlier. It was a very close run thing there for a few minutes though, we very nearly lost the little fella.
*Not mine in other words
We searched the ruins further looking for some profit from the venture. Detecting magic in a church-like building we spotted a gem on an altar inside. We headed for it, but even as Plainsweaver tried to destroy it, the spirit of the Arch Mage Meinius appeared and protected the altar with a wall of ice, sealing us in the church with another.
Shortly thereafter, we were all entombed within giant cubes of ice as the mage cackled in full arch-nemesis mode. By various means we were able to break free from our confinement, usually using brute force though some of us more stylishly deployed their wands of fire to summon friendly fire imps.
A few rounds later and the gem had been smithereened by our efforts, causing the church to spectacularly collapse, fortunately without us inside it. So final victory then? Well, apparently not, the spirits seemed to feel we were still short of a result, having allowed the ‘shade’* to escape southwards. So off south it seems is next on the menu, though we still urgently require:
a) Clothes**
b) A medium sized well equipped hospital facility
c) Our heads examining
d) A huge number of experience points and limitless wealth
*Shade? Must have missed that one.
**Apart from Kasbo, who now sports a fetching poncho fashioned form the altar cloth
29.9.12
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