The Iron Sword of Ages

Rudiger slept the sleep of the almost dead.

Outside the town walls, battle raged furiously on. Peering from the battlements, a weary Fafnir watched as disarray manifested in the rear lines of the orc host. Soon he spied Varloshi standards amongst the dust as it became apparent that the Duke had at last ridden south and was charging the attackers in the rear!

Quickly, Fafnir gathered fifty strong warriors to him. With a rousing speech, a little lost in translation, this crack squad of troops sallied forth and launched into the Orc ranks. The Iron Sword of Ages sang as it whirled through the air, leaving bloody rents in its wake. The troupe concentrated their assault to cut a swathe through the orcs to a low rise, where stood a coherent group of the enemy, along with their standard. Fafnir roared a challenge as they mounted the hill, and the warlord atop fixed a hate-filled gaze upon him. This huge, four-armed berzerker charged down the hill to do battle.

Like two titans they crashed into one another, dealing blows with untold savagery, arcs of blood spreading far and wide, until one lay dead, and one stood unsteadily on his feet, inches from his last breath.

Rudiger awoke. 'Is that fighting I hear?' He donned his armour and hobbled out of the fortress.

Bjorn the dwarven cleric rode in on a pony with the Valroshi troops. Aiming his cross-bow, he attracted the unwelcome notice of the Orc standard-bearer. Pulling up beside the wounded Fafnir, Bjorn called upon his craven gods and attempted to lay hands upon the barbarian. The orc, appeared, as if out of no-where, swinging an evil-looking weapon at the dwarf. Dodging quickly aside, Bjorn escaped unharmed, leaving his mount to take the blow. The orc closed in on Bjorn, but Rudiger launched to the defence, efficiently dispatching the attacker with a devastating blow.

When finally left alone to concentrate, Bjorn finally managed to channel the power of his gods to bring Fafnir back from the brink. His wounds lessened, cuts healed, rents scabbed and closed. Even as the cleric chanted his last prayers, Fafnir breathed a shuddering sigh of relief.

The day won, the party retired to Iron Gate for a debriefing with Duke Cawley. Bjorn suggested that they contact the southern dwarves for help against the orc menace, but the Duke disapproved on any foreign incursion onto Varloshi lands. The heroes rested up, and then gathered their belongings and headed south to reclaim the Dwarven crown from the Spire.

The first stop was Blackstone, where the gatekeepers were most unwelcoming, remembering as they did Fafnir and Shank's troublesome schemes of old. Rudiger, however, had a way with words and a bag of gold and gained the party entrance for the night. A night's rest later, Fafnir and Rudiger were fetching water before leaving, when members of the posse that had chased them into the desert, a lifetime ago, challenged them. Some cross words, some posturing and some shoving led to a swift, but bloodless end and a hasty departure. Once more, Blackstone and the party left on bad terms.

They quickly found the old oasis, with its entrance into its underground labyrinth, and the promise of a cooler route under the desert.

The tunnels were as remembered: ripe with Kobolds, but also populated with a Dragon Whelp: distinctly nasty in a closed space. Bjorn communed with the stones and heard tales of 'the white scales', ' the bridge', and 'the circle'. What these portents meant was still a mystery, but none of them sounded like allies.

Only in it for the Money

Rudiger and Fafnir sat late into the night, puffing pipeweed and sharing a wineskin of looted fire-water, whilst staring into the flames. They debated long on their next move, eventually deciding that a dead orc at your feet was worth two live ones in a ransacked Dwarven hold.

The plan was simple: travel to the last bastion of Dwarven power in the region, claim a reward for the artifacts still in their possession, and then offer themselves for hire as champions in the struggle against the orc. They set forth, on yet another lengthy and ill-provisioned journey, tramping through the wilderness. Fortunately, this time, Jonah knew where he was going.

Wending their way through the hills, their route from Ennet Bend brought the party close by to Enfield - the first of the Dwarven holds to fall. Great was the surprise when they spied the Vorloshi pennants flying above the damaged parapets.

After a brief dialogue with the Vorloshi captain, Fennell, in which he offered to enlist the entire party, Rudiger charmed the man, with tales of daring and martial prowess, and they were granted audience with the Duke: a man by the name of Cowley. Striding into the great Dwarven hall, which was large enough to accommodate a large crowd of burly human soldiers, the heroes sat with Cowley, broke bread with him and enjoyed a stew of vegetables and mutton and a thin sour ale. They compared notes on the Orcish menace and Cowley revealed his intention to bring the battle to the Orc and to crush them once and for all.

Cowley made a proposal: for a sizeable sum - half before and half after - the party would travel henceforth into Orcish lands west of Ennet Bend and hunt down Jack Bloodeye, the orc chieftain.Bloodeye was known to be in either the city of Bradfeld, or in a town north west of Barrowbridge. Seizing upon the offer of violent employment against the orc with both hands, Fafnir and Rudiger took the job. Shank took the reliquary artifacts and made his own way to Crystal Falls (which, it transpired, also had a Vorloshi governor) in order to complete the first half of the original plan. The fellowship parted company, well provisioned with rope, poles and iron rations.

The first town Rudiger and Fafnir passed upon their hunt was a terrible little town by the name of Schilling. Fafnir chomped at the bit to bring fire and sword to the orcs therein, but Rudiger, more experienced in matters of war and commerce, kept them on the path. Jonah managed to find the location of an orcish camp from about a week past, but was easily able to follow the trail the army left behind - an ongoing swathe of rubbish and denigration scarring the land.

The army itself was camped at the riverbank, building a bridge to cross the river into Human territories. Their obvious target was Iron Gate, a stout fort and gateway to the plains. Swiftly skirting the Orcs, the party headed straight for Iron Gate and sought out Captain Finnegan, to warn her of the impending attack. After a hearty meal and a few draughts of ale, a plan was hatched and Rudiger and Fafnir left Iron Gate, to descend down a well, a little outside the fort.

Within a day, the Orcs arrived, scattering about outside the fort in a disarrayed, but nonetheless a scary and effective force. They attacked, surging to the walls of the fort. Many died.

Suddenly, to the sound of might horns trumpeting, the Valroshi sallied forth on horseback from the fort, driving a deep wedge through the Orc forces, causing chaos and panic, and lashing about with their weapons, leaving rivers of red in their wake.

At this unmistakable signal, the heroes clambered from their hiding place and sought out the chieftain. He was easy to spot, a huge, hulking brute adorned with mismatched armour and tribal ornaments marking his rank. The heroes wasted no time and charged directly at Bloodeye and his lieutenant. Bloodeye, huge runic sword in his claws, showed his colours: fixing Fafnir with his awful gaze, he unleashed an unholy and evil magick upon Fafnir. Fafnir screamed and clutched his head as he felt a pain as if his eye was exploding from his skull. Rudiger launched himself forward, carving deep gashes into the furious chieftain, trading blow for bloody blow. The four mighty combatants whirled in a frenzy of savagery, until finally the chieftain laid a might blow along the side of Fafnir's head, sending his great sword arcing from his hand and his limp form crashing to the ground.

Fafnir sat up and looked around. Confused, he patted himself down: he had no pain, and the world was curiously silent and drained of colour. "I must have hit my head", he muttered. Then he saw a cowled figure sat in front of an up-turned round shield, setting a chess-board atop it. Fafnir sat down, and cracked his knuckles, determined to cheat Death of his prize.

Meanwhile, Rudiger was engaged in an increasingly desperate battle, but his years of training and experience in fighting dirty won through in the end and he drove his Dwarf-made blade deep through Bloodeye's body and taking his life. His victory was short-lived, however: the many-armed lieutenant, with a screech and a vicious cut left Rudiger face-down in the mud, his lifeblood seeping into the earth.

The Orc wore a confused grimace upon its face as it dropped its sword. It looked down at the great sword retreating from a great rent in its chest and it dropped like a stone. Fafnir stood, swaying slightly above the corpse. Without hesitation, Fafnir gathered up the crumpled body of his friend, swords slung over his back, and made straight for the temples of healing in Iron Gate, determined to let no-one, Orc, man, woman or Dwarf stand in the way of his purpose. Bloody murder had been done this day, and would be done again should Rudiger not make it through.

Placing the body of his friend before the healers, Fafnir shrugged off his battle-worn armour and offered it in payment and then knelt before the dias and muttered what prayers he could to the old gods of Usterlant.

Set a Thief...

Shank, leaving Rudiger and Fafnir spooning against the cold in their makeshift shelter, decided that the best use of his time was to carouse with the best of them in the best inn in town.

His revelry uncovered a nugget of information: Lord Dunwich, chief nob in Ennet Bend, was bringing in silks with town merchant's money, and dodging Imperial taxes and possibly trading with Orcs. Shank has become friends with Hob, one of the guards in Dunwich's employ, and Hob was altogether eager to make a little cash on the side. Shank was convinced that this was the route to quick riches.

After some discussion, Fafnir, despite cultural misunderstandings, simply could not see a way to make this pay. Certainly not without a hue and cry into the bargain. So they decided that knowledge was power, so they would find out more. Shank, posing as a dock hand began observing and poking about the docks. Fafnir preferred to stay out of site: he took the opportunity for a bath. And took his meals therein!

The shipment arrived.

They watched as Farley and Morgan, the merchants, arrived and took their silks. Next Walton took his to a warehouse, before heading north. Lastly, Emery, a shadowy fellow arrived and left.

Whilst Fafnir and Shank sat on the dock bickering over ham sandwiches, well heeled townsfolk arrived and got on board the barge, the 'Chaffinch'. These turned out to be none other than Dunwich himself, with his entourage. The barge pushed off away from the dock and ever so slowly made its way south along the river.

Fafnir and Shank took up the chase, keeping far from the riverbank, but easily keeping pace with the sluggish barge. They watched as it stopped at a deserted spot, dumped silks on the shore, and proceeded south. They kept watch as a party of orcs arrived, claimed the silks and left. None the wiser, they headed back to town, puzzling at this new development. They came to the conclusion that this was a protection racket and Dunwich was paying his dues. The Empire would not approve, but still, it's a lot cheaper than a war.

Shank turned his attention to the missing dwarven crown, once again. His enquiries received a very cold reception from his underworld contacts, but with some pushing he was advised to 'drop it'. "'The Queen' has it, and you do not want to be noticed by her."

This sparked some memory in Shank - The Queen is a powerful Sorceress who lives in a spire in the desert, with her minions. She has also enslaved one of the Barbarian tribes.

The party decided that there was nothing for it but to head directly to confront her!

Bandit Country

Shank finds catching up with Rudiger, Fafnir and Bjorn is quite a feat. They’re moving quickly to catch up with the Dwarven reliquary as the Orcs haul it into Brindenburg. Shank infiltrates the Orc town during the night
Shank manages to find any way into the Orc temple he thinks holds the reliquary and is able to overhear the Orc Chieftain and Shaman speak about their intentions to move the reliquary west to the capital as soon as they've crushed the last remnants of Dwarvish resitance in the region. He can’t recover his throwing knives after he takes down a few Orc sentries on the way out,
Shank flees! And meet up with the party outside the Dwarvish holdfast of Arbour Deep…

Arbour Deep is destroyed. Detritus and the corpses of Dwarven dead litter the ground like the broken playthings of giant children. 

"I am hungry!" shouted Fafnir, though clearly munching one of his frightful weed-roots, spraying masticated tuber on the ground. The party scouted carefully through the wreckage in front of the wrecked fortress, searching for food. Despite Fafnir's protests at eating Orcish food, they all chowed down and discussed plans. They decided that the best course of action was to go back to the last known location of the Reliquary - the Orcish town of Brindenberg - and commit mayhem, all in the name of Foiling the Evil Plans of the Orcs. Before heading off though, Rudiger felt it time to attempt to read the Scroll of Evil. Once again, storm clouds gathered above the party's heads, but it was the poisoned arrow of an orc that stopped Rudiger from mouthing the ancient cursed words. Shank identified the arrow as 'blood-weed' - a particularly nasty poison.

The party headed off once more into the wilderness. Days later, tired and hungry, with much rumbling of tummies and moaning on the part of The Giant, they arrived unmolested at Brindenberg, and set about making a plan. All that was known about this minor walled town was that the Orcs are xenophobic and do not trade.

Darkness fell, and Shank set to work. Quiet as a shadow, he scampered over the wall and was gone, leaving Rudiger and Fafnir tending their weapons, Fafnir explaining the plan to Rudiger once more, just in case he did not get it. Shank wended his way through the shabby structures, finding a large tent in the middle of the place. Slipping quietly inside, he found a pit, with a ladder descending into the darkness. Deep underground, through a narrow tunnel, was the Dwarven reliquary, sitting on a pedestal. He quickly levered the lid off the box and relieved it of its contents: a warhammer, a bejewelled belt and a crown. As he turned to leave, he was interrupted by two orcs. A swift and scrappy altercation ensued, with Shank running for his life and screaming bloody murder. 

As soon as Fafnir and Rudiger heard the shouts, they charged the front gate. Mayhem, bloody, messy mayhem was laid thickly upon the Orc. Shank, sprawled upon the ground, scrabbling for his life, dodged between Rudiger and a massive Orcish chieftain, trading blow for blow. Fafnir stood at the open gates, bellowing challenges to the orcs amongst a litter of corpses.

After a lightening and entirely successful assault, they ran, before the orcs could regain their composure and retaliate in force.

The journey down to Ennet Bend was long. "I'm hungry!" echoed through the hills. Once more, Fafnir resorted to weed-root once more. The rest of the party, in desperation, gave it a go. It did not go well.

At Ennet Bend, success comes in the the shape of a mammoth party. Whilst Rudiger and Shank attempted a quiet night in an inn, eating good food and resting, Fafnir answered the call of the barbarian party animal, blowing every coin he had. 

On waking the next day, Fafnir had befriended a Vorloshi ranger named Jonah, who decided to join the group, spent all his money, and lost his dwarven swag: the golden crown. Shank attempted to make enquiries about the crown but failed miserably. Within hours the party was kicked out of the town, sitting in the dirt, friendless and once again, without food.

Nothing Gained

As the rest of the band  battled for their lives against orcish monstrosities, Fafnir chose his own path, tracking the orcs as they left the ruins of the former Dwarven hold.

The orcs marched in a huge throng, protecting their loot, including the Box of Holy Dwarven Things. Fafnir watched as war bands peeled off the main throng to head off in different directions, but kept his eye on the prize. Unfortunately, whilst creeping ever closer to the enemy, he was spotted by scouts and in his hurry to disappear, fell a-foul of something foul and stepped in some rancid and most pungent dung.

Despite the smell, or maybe aided by it, a raiding party of orcs harried Fafnir though the hills back to the hold. The Giant's mighty endurance did him proud and despite the orcish legendary speed over long distances, he stayed ahead of them until in the shadow of the curtain wall. Two orcs had ditched their shields in favour of speed and caught Fafnir meters from safety, much to their cost. The fight was short, brutal and bloody, but allowed more orcs to crest the rise.

Bjorn, a travelling Dwarven Cleric, saw the fight from a postern gate, and calling to Fafnir, extricated him from what could have been a rather nasty encounter.

Bjorn called to Hastor, his chosen deity (which caused Fafnir to wrinkle his face in confusion), to show him the way. Duly elucidated, the duo set forth through the tomb-like halls of the ransacked hold. Fafnir ignored Bjorn's claim that he was not from here, assuming that the dwarf obviously knew his way about, as this is where Dwarves live, right?

Descending a stairs from a mezzanine, they witnessed the remains of a scene of carnage. Dead dwarfs lay in pieces and piles on the ground. It looked like some sort of last stand. Then Bjorn realized something. The smell from Fafnir's faeces-covered boot mingled with another smell, coming from a newly-cut rough-hewn passageway: that of troll. Looking to lessen the odour, Bjorn sanctified the poo on the shoe, whereupon it hardened to stone. Fafnir must get new boots.

Exploring further through the tunnels, they found a stairway, collapsed where the wall had been smashed, and below it more dead dwarves and pieces of troll. The troll dismembered parts were twitching, and when the light was brought closer, they could see pink new flesh stemming from old wounds. In addition, it looked like a single body part could regenerate into a complete troll, given time! This gave the party pause for thought. And not a little panic. Everyone gave thanks to their chosen higher powers that these ones were currently 'dead'.

Bjorn and Fafnir ran into Rudiger, cleaning his mighty Dwarven cleaver. They decided to leave the hold and track the Box of Holy Things. Tracking the orcs proved easy, given the head start provided by Fafnir's earlier scouting and they soon encountered a war band, in camp.  The party ambushed them and slaughtered them without hesitation, for no good ever comes from an orc. Fafnir happily told his friends "My people have never had truck with the orc. Orcs are animals. <<ka-chock! splat>>". They found a scroll, with unfamiliar writing upon it. Fafnir tried sounding out the letters, but the clouds darkened and gathered above him... Fafnir, rather upset, stopped reading. He urged the party to destroy this Scroll of Evil, but Bjorn insists on keeping it 'safe'. Fafnir will have to keep an eye on this one.

The trail leads to Brindenberg - an Orcish town. Fafnir's mind spins at the thought of these animals having a town. Bjorn attempted to divine some knowledge of the town, and the Box of Holy Things, but it seemed to Fafnir that his god hated him now. Obviously a direct result of the Scroll of Evil.

In any event, an orcish shaman detected Bjorn's magic and was not happy. Once more, the clouds gathered and darkened directly above us. We ran away! Evil is in the air!

We went south. To find dwarves.

After many days, we reached the dwarven hold of Mayhill. A thousand Orc campfires burned all around it. We debated entering the hold to aid the dwarves, but Rudiger was unaccountably nervous and demanded assurances that the dwarves would not take exception to any of us. Bjorn could not speak for Mayhill, but as he hails from Arbour Deep, and is a person of substance and (short) standing there, we decided to use our last meagre trail rations journeying the last couple of days to get there instead to warn them of the orcish threat.

We camped in a hollow atop a small hill. As luck would have it, as we sat around our campfire listening to Rudiger tell us how fire does not burn the trolls in this part of the world, what looked like boulders in the half light of dusk woke up and stood. We faced our first troll, and the battle, it was truly mighty!

We stood above the mangled troll, bloodied and bruised, empty vials of healing potion scattered about like leaves and watched it ever so slowly start to heal. It would be many hours before the troll might stand, but we decided to not be there to see it.

We left.

Nothing Ventured...

In the night attack by the elder Kobold, Taeros and Shank get separated from the others:

In the darkness Taeros takes the form of an Owl to get away from a horde of Kobolds with crossbows to back up the usual long spears

• She discovers a path down to the bottom of the Chasm via an underground River

• She avoids the Dragon (!) and is able to discern the signs of its approach or passing and will recognise those signs in future

• She has a quiet opportunity to study the essence of a Gecko in the tunnels

Shank takes a wrong turning in the confusion and ends up scaling the Chasm to get away 

• He lifts a few vials of the infamous Serpent’s Tears poison

• He figures out the warning codes that the Kobolds play on their little whistles

• He finds a usable route across to the other side of the Chasm

They both end up back at the Oasis and that evening is rejoined by Rudiger and Fafnir, who look like they’ve come through quite a fight! They hand over a share of the treasure from their escapades.

Deciding to forgo the road back to Blackstone, where they would expect to be treated roughly, they cut across the harsh desert to get on the road to Irongate, a keep on the borderlands with the Ruk Confederation. They rest and refit in the garrison town, where Captain Finnegan runs a tight ship - she finds that being on the frontline against hordes of Orcs focuses the mind wonderfully!

As the group seek rest and recovery, Fafnir the Great regales the other patrons of the inn with their tales of derring do; ordering roasted pigs and barrels of ale to be produced for all who will listen. Amongst the wild stories, they manage to pick up a few details which prompt their next adventure:
An Orc horde has raided deep into the Black Hills and has overrun several Dwarven holdfasts there. They've not held onto their gains but have moved through.

The trip to the Black Hills is uneventful - they avoid a raiding party of Orcs and their Wargs on the road up to Emmet's Bend. When they reach the Dwarven holdfast of Enfield they find utter devastation.

Several large pyres smoulder as they approach the site of a battle. The corpses of about 200 charred Orcs leaves a terrible smell; but not so terrible as to mask the rotting smell of at least 600 Dwarves who lie scattered across the plain outside the hold. They have been stripped of everything valuable and left as carrion.

Rudiger's veteran eyes tell the story of the battle. Fighting against a small force of Orcs, the Dwarves had backed away as new forces began to arrive on the field. Eventually, in danger of being overwhelmed and without any chance of making their way back to the gates, they formed a tight mass to sell their lives dearly.

This tale of an sally gone terribly wrong is overturned when the Fighter takes a closer look; they were carrying something heavy and valuable. Perhaps they were on an expedition when they were ambushed? But no - Rudiger thinks that they were running out of the holdfast in order to protect their heavy cargo...
He finds the clan leader (with his bitter experience of Dwarves, he knows them from their braided hair and tattoos) - underneath the ragged shirt is a large key; whether it's to a chest or a door whatever's inside will be very very valuable!

Many Orcs (but not all) moved northwards after the battle carrying the heavy chest, but the adventurers decide not to follow immediately and to investigate the hold first. The holdfast itself dominates the landscape; a great round tower juts out from the main walls, and above it is an equally impressive curtain wall on a bluff overlooking the rest of the fortifications.

As the others enter the hold, Taeros remains behind. She knows that it would be impossible for her to inter every Dwarf in their usual catacomb burial, but starts a quick prayer to ease their path into the next world; burning sacred herbs as she walks through the carnage.

The strong oaken gates are broken and the gatehouse itself has been severely damaged by some mighty siege engine. A dozen or so dead Dwarves are littered around the courtyard. Climbing up to the top of the Great Tower, Fafnir, notices six Wargs approaching from the south - he yells at Taeros to run for the Great Hall and legs it back down the stairs.

Rudiger waits patiently at the strong door for the two, Fafnir rushes past Rudiger just as a kestrel swoops in through the door. Taeros resumes her natural form as Rudiger bars the doorway. They find a spiral staircase at the far end of the Great Hall and carefully make their way downwards.

The place is a tomb. Shattered furniture (used as barricades) is strewn throughout the corridors and doorways, with Orcish blood pooled next to Dwarvish bodies. Next to a large hall, is a door to a small platform which opens up to a stream. Taeros transforms into a salmon, and swims upstream until she spots a similar platform - even with the difficulty of taking her bearings in that form, she's sure she can find her way to the spot again.

They walk through large double doors to find themselves in a killing room - arrow slits dominate the passage from both sides and the floor is matted with Orc blood. Here at least, the creatures paid a terrible price for their conquests.

Finding a long stairs upwards, they quietly make the long climb, eventually finding themselves on the high curtain wall overlooking the hold. Near the eastern tower linger five Orcs, who charge them while the party quickly assess their options. One of the Orcs draws a bow to keep their heads down as the three adventurers turn to run back down the stairs, but Taeros drops her new spear and knows that she won't have time to retrieve it before the Orcs reach them. Rudiger back her up and they stand shoulder to shoulder just in time as the four Orcs barge into them. Rudiger smashes one to the floor with his sword in short order and Taeros holds her own.

Shank yells to them from the top of the stairs that there's a couple of Orcs coming up towards them too, cutting off their preferred line of retreat. Taeros (slightly worse for wear) and Rudiger are now facing a single Orcs, whose bulging muscles and wicked-looking cleaver set him out as he charged in. But now its rage threatens to consume them both, hewing pieces off Rudiger and Taeros as she helps the fighter. As it looms above them, a third arm surges out of its leather vest and smashes Taeros' ribcage to pieces.

Shank slides in behind the Orc as it turns to finish off Rudiger, slipping his dagger in between its ribs and snuffing the life out of the berserk monster. Shank and Rudiger turn to face the winded Orcs as they reach the top of the stairs, but they make short work of them. They turn to see the archer has run for the tower beyond, and Shank chases him: they can't let him reach any help nearby.

Taeros' last breath rattles out of her broken body and there is no sign of returning life for Rudiger to rekindle.


Shank almost bumps into a Dwarf as he rushes into the tower. The short armoured figure standing above a dead Orc. The Dwarf introduces himself as Bjorn, a Cleric and sole survivor of the holdfast. As they compare accounts, Rudiger asks Bjorn to identify the key he took from the clan leader on the battlefield. Bjorn realises that it must be a key to the Reliquary below.

They make their way to the depths of the dungeon once more, finding a small room across the stream. It's been emptied out, but from the arrangement of the room, they realise that a large and heavy chest must have been given pride of place within the room.

All they find is a black iron spike, twisted like a thorn and colder and heavier than it should be. Bjorn feels empty and removed from his God as he touches it and no one has the slightest inkling what it could be nor why it might have been left behind...

By the Skin of their Teeth

Grabbing their weapons, Rudiger and Fafnir the Great scramble to their feet to face the creature which has just burst through into their campsite in the small dungeon room. Its wickedly sharp spear flicks out to skewer Rudiger, but The Fighter blocks with his shield and cuts his enemy across the face, dislodging the ornate draconic mask to reveal a older, tougher looking version of the Kobolds they faced the previous day.

Following up on Rudiger's attack, Fafnir slides to one side to distract the grandfather Kobold with his axe and  Rudiger smashes it with another swipe of his sword, shearing the head of its spear clean off. 

Now reduced to its claws, the Kobolds turns to flee, smashing a small glass bottle against the floor and enveloping itself in a malodorous smoke. As it goes for the door towards the guard room, Rudiger goes to stop him. Fafnir is in a position to help, but The Barbarian notices that on the stairs behind three Kobolds are about to loose crossbow bolts in their direction. Lunging towards them Fafnir sweep his axe to disarm them, avoiding the a bolt or two and drives them down the stairs. Rudiger manages to ignore the sulphurous smoke to cut down the Kobold, his heavy sword breaking through the heavy scale armour.

They quickly go through the creatures' possessions, finding a purse full of gold and jewels worth at least 1200 coins! Rudiger grabs a remaining smoke grenade; it might come in handy. As he's rummaging around, Rudiger discovered two vestigial wings on the Kobold's back and recalls a gnarled old sergeant in Ducal service relating a tale (discounted at the time) that old Kobolds eventually became dragons...

Taking a second look at Rudiger's sword, Fafnir remarks that it looks like it belongs in an Orc's hand. Rudiger tells him the tale that he took 'Swalfir' from a Dwarven chieftain when clearing the Black Hills of recalcitrant clans for the Duke. 

The party descended further into the depths. Fafnir now sporting some second hand draconian armour, decided that beggars (even nouveau riche ones) could use a hand-me-down until they could acquire some proper gear.

Continuing on through the darkness, the party came across a disused portcullis - probably the legendary route to the south!

Taking another route, they came into a chamber containing a deep well, and surrounded by untold hundreds of leathery, strangely coloured eggs. After some discussion, it was deemed prudent to leave the eggs unmolested and continue with the exploration.

Another large cavern contained what appeared to be a throne, next to another suspiciously deep well. A strange whistling sound emanated from the deeps, and it was only the groups cat-like reflexes saved them as a dirty great dragon hurtled up out of the well! Rudiger and Fafnir scattered, each trusting to luck that the other would survive. As the dragon's fire chased Fafnir down the corridor, his life flashed before his eyes, bringing to mind the ruins of his home in Usterlant, destroyed by Orcs and left to burn. As the last of his line, he hardened his panicked heart and determined to live another day. He dodged aside the fire and gazed out across a huge void, a chasm, rent beneath the world.

Meanwhile, Rudiger skipped out of the Dragon's throne room and into a smaller, adjacent chamber. Surprised kobolds leapt out of their beds, readied their weapons and made for war. Rudiger, knowing well that this was the easier alternative to the dragon, set about his bloody task with vigour.

In time, the dragon, hampered by small passages, went in search of slower prey. The party regrouped, deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, and made to leave.

However, they were not alone. Still suffering from wounds gained in combat, they were reluctant to engage with hordes of angered kobolds, so they decided to try an alternative route home.

Rudiger managed to lift the rusted portcullis and the party hurried beneath, hoping for a swift exit. A breath of fresh air was marred by the scent of corruption, and as the party cast about a cavern open to the sky, they were set upon by many unknown, foul beasts. The party beat a hasty rear-guard action, scaling the rock wall and escaping to freedom.

Fortunately, their human pursuers from the village had not the stomach to keep watch for days in the desert, and our heroes were able to leave unmolested.

Once back in civilization, much mead was quaffed, company was negotiated and cash was flashed in the name of looking and feeling like a group of badasses. Now healed and much better equipped, the party needed to plan their next move.

They heard legends of the Ruk Confederation - Orcs - who had destroyed the Dwarven power in the Black Hills, leaving empty their holds. Fafnir also heard that the Varloshi were currently hiring warriors from Usterlant - but would he want to be in someone's pay?

Fafnir and Rudiger finally (over a barrel of ale) came to an understanding, where Fafnir admitted his life's debt to Rudiger: they staggered from the ale house brothers in arms...

Into the Fire

Shank carefully inches down the steps into the dungeon, the skeleton of an unknown humanoid at the bottom warns him that there is danger below. He temporarily disables the trap on the bottom step waiting until the others pass by him before engaging the mechanism again. If Blackstone's town guard follow them down here he wants to discourage any further pursuit.

They are inside a large chamber, several columns run down the length of it, giving it the feel of somewhere important, but regardless of its original purpose it is now a simple antechamber. The corners are filled with brush and sand, and there's no sign of anyone having been here recently.

They choose the right hand turn from the room, but quickly hit a snag when they come across a strong portcullis blocked the way around a corner. As Rudiger sizes up the massive iron obstacle, Shank checks it out for any surprises and up in the ceiling he spies a wire running through the stone connecting to the portcullis mechanism. He gently disarms it and stands aside.

Taeros cautions them about opening the portcullis without knowing what's around the corner, and so without warning transforms into a small Owl. Hopping through the gaps in the gate, Taeros peers around a corner, and hearing chittering from beyond the large room she's now in advances until her keen night vision spies a group of Kobolds around a table. Wasting no time she flies back to the others to relate the results of her scouting.

Rudiger takes a firm hold of the portcullis, and trying not to make any noise slowly lifts the gate to allow the others to go under. He allows is to come back to a rest, but as he does Taeros spots that one of the Kobolds is peering down the corridor at him. She quickly jumps into action, hitting the unfortunate Kobold upside the head with her stout staff and sending him flying.

Taeros notices a raised dais with a stone stand holding a small dragon statue. She wraps it up in her pack and when she has time to examine it later, detects a dormant spirit within.

Shank throws a knife across the room, downing a Kobold who's appeared in the doorway. Taking this as a sign of impending battle, Fafnir the Great rushes through the next room and towards the guard room where the Kobolds are just springing to their feet. The first creature coming out of the room uses Fafnir's great size against him though, scurrying under his swinging axe to stick him in the gut with its spear!

Fafnir grits his teeth and powers through, hoping to overwhelm his opponent, but instead ends up with all four remaining Kobolds sticking him with their spears. Rudiger sweeps past him to take some of the heat off Fafnir, chopping one of them in half and splashing the messy gore all over the remaining three. Behind Fafnir, Taeros suddenly transforms into a gigantic mountain bear and barrels past the slumped barbarian. If there were any Kobolds alive when Taeros stopped roaring, they must have run.

Shank is sharp enough to spot that two Kobolds ran, one down a long staircase ahead, the other to the right through a small room and down another set of stairs. Heading around the corner Shank is hit by several small darts as he checks for traps. The darts are so small that he reckons they must be poisoned, but he feels no immediate effect.

They quickly go through the remnants of the Kobolds belonging, finding a few dozen coins, a pack of playing cards and a small two-note whistle. The discarded shells from pistachio nuts are scattered underneath the table.

Heading down the long stairs (where Shank has already disarmed the traps on the landings) the group find themselves in a large ceremonial room of some sort, but there are another half a dozen Kobolds arrayed near the centre of the room by a pillar.

They fight them off (though Fafnir again seems to take the brunt of their damage), but beat a retreat when they hear the Kobold at the rear sounding a few notes on its whistle. They race back to the room with the dais, but instead decide on making camp in the small room adjoining the guardroom (though they notice that the playing cards they left behind are gone). They board up one exit with the table from the guardroom and set watch...

...near dawn the snoozing Rudiger smells sulphur from the staircase, and in bursts an impressive looking draconic figure which fills the room with rancid smoke and lunges at them with its spear!

Out of the Frying Pan...

Chased out of the imperial town of Blackstone and into the desert, our heroes find themselves at a wasted oasis. A slighted well and two hovels are all that remains of the village.

Rudiger scans the horizon behind them with his hard eyes. The Fighter's well-built body and battered helm suggest he's well able for combat. But he judges that the dust cloud a few miles back is being kicked up by at least a dozen men on horseback. He loosens the huge, well-crafted and blood-stained sword in its scabbard and unslings the shield from his mail-clad torso. He glances at his fellow adventurers:

Fafnir owes me his life, whether he admits it or not

I have sworn to protect Taeros

I worry about the ability of Shank to survive in the dungeon

Earlier in the inn Rudiger had been staying in, the town guard arrived to arrest him and Shank (perverting the course of justice or something like that...). Fafnir got in the way (without sword or clothes) and only Rudiger's timely intervention saved his life. Of course, the barbaric oaf blamed Rudiger for not giving him time to collect his mighty sword and mail armour, but such is life...

Fafnir the Giant shifts the axe from one mighty thewed arm to another uncomfortably. His shrouded eyes barely mask the distaste for the scavenged outfit he wears. The Barbarian's body is unmarred by decoration, an unusual affectation for his nation, but the desire for riches and property and for the accompanying mortal pleasures seem barely contained. He eyes up his companions:

Shank is puny and foolish, but amusing to me.

Shank is always getting into trouble – I must protect him from himself

Taeros’ ways are strange and confusing

Rudiger shares my hunger for glory; the earth will tremble at our passing

Shank was being buried alive next to a fire beetle hive for bringing travellers out to a false oasis and taking their money. Who knew the Varloshi Empire took desert travel so seriously? He'd still be there only for...okay, so Rudiger actually rescued him, but Fafnir would've gotten there fairly soon...

Taeros glides alongside the other, her elven features standing out, particularly those haunting eyes. The Druid wears weathered hides and has long braided hair. On closer inspection her eyes are like flecked granite, reminding anyone of the towering mountains far to the south. She considers the travellers she has just joined:

Shank smells more like prey than a hunter

The spirits spoke to me of a great danger that follows Rudiger

I have showed Rudiger a secret rite of the land

Fafnir has tasted my blood and I theirs, We are bound by it

High in the mountains, and far to the south, Taeros received a vision of a misguided spirit hunting Rudiger. Leaving the clans and crossing the desert, Taeros finally caught up with him. Taeros has shown him a small rite which will keep him safe until Taeros can defeat the spirit and send it back to its realm.
The Barbarian is surprisingly familiar, and Fafnir's family worshipped the same gods as Taeros' clan in their youth - they made a blood bond all those years ago...

Shank's lithe form slips past the others. Barely visible (but definitely criminal) eyes beneath a dark hood. Dark clothes hide many knives, and inside pouches attached to his leather armour lurk mysterious vials. The Thief may have more to lose than most from the chasing posse.

I stole something from Taeros

Rudiger has my back when things go wrong

Fafnir and I have a con running

One vital aspect of Taeros' ritual was lifted by Shank, moments after the elf walked into camp.

Spotting a stairs going down beyond the well, Shank leads the way down the old and pitted stone steps...