Prymptown Courier - v. 2 no. 7

PRYMPTOWN COURIER

Vol. 2, No. 7 (July 1999)

EDITORIAL

This playing session was a short one, but an important one to me.  It was originally planned to be a solo session for Vladamir Kostitov, but he wound up doing something completely different from what he had told me he planned to do.  Far from upset, I was glad to run a scenario I had planned some time ago.  The scenario was not of my invention, though.  It is derived from an actual Bulgarian folktale. 

The political theme of my campaign was always meant to be the primary one, but I had wanted a strong folktale feel to it.  In time, these PCs (or those that survive long enough) will be like the heroes of myth.  At least, that was my plan.  Things started to move away from that when the PCs ignored Demataliph the shepherd, who was leading them towards my first folklore-inspired scenario. 

Sadly, this scenario turned quickly into a hackfest, and the meaning behind the intial encounter was not learned, and now may never be known.  But hey, this is D&D.  Kill first, ask questions later...right?  Actually, Vlad's player claims it was my fault for having Barada (the NPC version) attack first.  Read on, and decide on your own.

NEW FEATURES?

Or rather, does the Courier need new features?  This is an open question to my readers.  Right now, the Courier is a bare bones campaign update plus one additional short story or NPC interview I write exclusively for the Courier.  I had intended for the Courier to grow larger than this, but it has been hard enough for me to keep up-to-date with the Courier at even its current size.

Vlad's player may help.  He has volunteered to keep a diary for his character, and an installment of that will appear in the next Courier.

I recently was thinking about a feature of Ken Newquist's Website for his Blackrazors campaign, where visitors can vote for which PC they think would win in a face-off.  I think we try something similar.  I pair up two characters from the campaign, PCs or NPCs (probably PCs more often) and predict an outcome.  On our next playing session, if we have some extra time, we hash out the fight.  It wouldn't count towards the campaign, naturally.  Anyways, here's a sample...

ALEXANDER VS. PERPEGILLIAM         

Yes, they've been verbally sparring the entire campaign, but this time they go toe-to-toe to the death!

Alex has his long sword in hand, and his large, mantlet shield held just an inch above the ground in front of him.  It's going to be an imposing obstacle for Peri, who'd need to make a climb walls check just to get over it!  Peri is armed with his short sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. 

"I'll kill you for what you did to my chapel," says Alex, the large, meaty templar.

"THAT'S PLAYER KNOWLEDGE!" cries Peri, the small, hairy thief. 

The hobniz goes berserk and throws his dagger at Alex.  Naturally, Alex easily deflects it with his giant shield.  But Peri ducks and tumbles foward and off to the side of Alex.  Alex is still swinging his heavy shield around to guard his flank when Peri jumps up to his feet.  Peri's swing comes too late, though, and only puts a notch in the edge of the shield as Alex swings it between them.  Peri is forced to maneuver again to get in position for another strike.  But just then, Alex half-steps out from behind his shield-wall and makes a lunge with his long sword.  Peri, quicker than Alex, is already dodging, but didn't even need to.  Alex has become too accustomed to human-sized opponents, and his lunge was high and just over the little halfling's head. 

Peri starts circling Alex.  All Alex has to do is pivot his shield, though, and it looks for long seconds as if neither of them is ready to take the offensive again.  Then Alex lifts up the mantlet and begins a shield rush against Peri.  He obviously intends to run down his opponent, and then finish him off while he's prone.  But Peri beats him to it and throws himself on the ground -- at Alex's feet!  While not clumsy, neither is Alex very agile, and he is thrown off balance by the maneuver.  Peri swings his short sword with all his might up into the back of Alex's leg.  The leather hose keeps the sword from biting deep, but the force of the swing sends the already off-balance templar falling to the ground!

Before Alex can sit up, Peri lunges for him and is all over Alex like Mini-Me on Austin Powers.  Even pinned down, though, Alex has long enough arms to hold Peri's sword arm at bay.  In fact, Peri soon begins to have trouble overbearing the large, beefy templar, and a lucky punch sends Peri sprawling.  Alex knows he can't get to his feet faster than the thief, so he lunges for Peri and hurls his massive frame down on Peri.  The collision knocks the wind out of Peri and -- what's worse -- Peri has lying on top of the bag of caltrops he keeps hanging from his belt.  Peri gasps in pain as the little spikes dig into his ribs.  Alex reaches for his dagger so he can finish off his opponent -- but discovers that it is not there!  Peri had lifted it from his scabbard during their previous struggle!

Short on alternatives, Alex begins wailing away with his fists on Peri's face.  Even pinned down, Peri is able to dodge most of his punches, but the few that hit hurt.  Still, Peri has had worse, and manages to get a grip on Alex's dagger again.  He slides it up between them and jabs upward.  The blade slides between the strips of thin steel riveted to Alex's hauberk, and digs into the cured leather.  If unarmored, Alex would be gutted, but the dagger cannot sink so deep.  Though it is a light wound, Alex still pulls away, and this gives Peri room to pick up his short sword.  Alex lunges backwards towards his own dropped sword, but reaches it too late.  Peri is atop him in no time, and drives his short sword deep into tear in Alex's hauberk over his stomach.  Alex gets in one last swing, which bats the sword out of Peri's hands, before Alex collapses in a pool of his own blood...

Is that what would happen?  See here for details!

SCOTT CASPER'S ULTIMATE GREYHAWK
SOUTH PROVINCE CAMPAIGN Update 25-26

Cast:
Barada, Neutral male Flannish human mercenary (1st level fighter)(played as NPC).  
Alexander Petrok, Lawful Neutral male Oerdian human templar of Zilchus (1st level paladin variant) (played as NPC).
Perpegilliam Brown, Neutral male Hairfoot hobniz rogue (1st level Thief, played as NPC). 
Hristo Neutral Good male Wesevud ("Central") noniz ex-town watchman and rogue (1st level fighter/1st level thief)(played as NPC).
Vladamir Kostitov, Lawful Good male Oerdian human prestidigitator for the Governor's Guardsmen (1st level Illusionist). 
Dargog, Neutral male Blu-Jebline rogue (1st level Thief, played as NPC). 
Gabriel Lanovastorm, Mentherim-Dwur veteran (1st level fighter).

Setting:  Prymp

Readying 24, 581 CY

Vlad was about to leave the Laird's office when he thought twice about it, and asked began to ask Seron Tapinov more about this personal matter for which he needed the Band of the Grinning Gargoyle.  The mystery of where Tapinov's daughter went at night, and how she left the house, had puzzled the Laird himself, his advisor Nemis Coraz, his friend Heironymous Nodd, and the private guards Tapinov left outside her room each night.  The Laird lived in one of the fine mansions in the tiny but influential Wealthy District.  His daughter, Estra, was kept in a room on the second floor, in a rear corner.     

Promising to look into it that night, Vlad left for the Grinning Gargoyle Tavern to find his companions.  Who he found were Barada, Hristo, and Gabriel.  Vlad explained to them the situation about the Laird's daughter, leaving out all the revelations about the Flying Turtle Guild to which he had been entrusted.  Gabriel asked how old this daughter was, and Vlad confessed he had not thought to ask.  They all agreed to help out, and to rendezvous with Vlad at town hall as soon as they had gathered their armor and adventuring gear. 

 It turned out that the guards at the entrance to town hall did not allow loitering there, and so Vlad had to walk some distance away to wait for the others.  It was not long before Gabriel joined him, and then the other two.  None of them had bothered to contact Alex, Dargog, or the still-missing Perpegilliam, as they were confident they could get to the bottom of this easily enough.

Vlad asked Hristo to scale the back of the building and take a look in the Estra's room.  Hristo was able to scale vines up to a spot where he could wedge himself in by the window and remain there.  Barada lurked amongst some trees towards the back of the estate.  Gabriel tried to find a good hiding place between the Laird's mansion and his neighbor's, but had to settle for standing behind the neighbor's home. 

Readying 25

Time passed, and everyone waited.  All was quiet.  At least, that was the case until Hristo screamed and fell from the wall.  The gnome landed with a thump on the hard ground and laid there.  Gabriel came running to investigate.  Barada emerged from his cover with his bow out.  Vlad had heard the scream and came running around the building.

What Gabriel and Barada saw was a small dragon-like creature, about the size and shape of a dwarf, but with bat-like wings, red scales, and an almost comical countenance.  Barada took a shot at it that hit the house.  The monster swooped down at Barada and spoke in a horrible voice, "Sleep!"  Barada fell to the ground.  Gabriel fired some arrows to little effect, but dropped it to reach for his battleaxe when he say the creature fly towards him.  The dragon-creature landed near Gabriel and gestured at him.  The dwarf felt a tingle, but nothing else as he swung his axe and landed a light wound on the beast. 

Vlad came running around the house and grimly assessed the situation.  Barada appeared to be snoozing, and Hristo had picked himself up and was sneaking towards the dragon-creature from behind.  The dwarf was too close for a Color Spray spell, so Vlad cast his Phantasmal Force spell.  He made Barada's long sword appear to rise from its scabbard and float into the melee.  And then the cavalry appeared, as four armed guards circled around from the front of the building. 

The dragon-thing looked around, growled, and a small ball of light appeared in its clawed hand.  It threw the ball to the ground at its feet and the area exploded with fire. 

Vlad watched in horror as the flames died down and saw Hristo and Gabriel laying unconscious or dead at the feet of a dragon-creature in near perfect health.   

Just then, the shutters flew open to Estra's window.  A girl of about 16 year's old leaned out and called out to the dragon.  The dragon roared her name back, commanding her to go back inside.  The four guards fled in terror.  Vlad stood all alone.

The dragon-creature slowly advanced.  Vlad drew forth his magic wand.  As unreliable as this weapon was, it was his only chance.  He spoke the command word, and wished with all his might for the wand to work.  Motes of energy swirled into being around the wand tip, and then winked out.  The dragon-creature smiled.

But then the wand flared back to life, and a beam of light lanced out and struck the dragon-creature squarely in the chest.  Knowing the wand's power, Vlad concentrated on turning the beast into a turtle.  For long moments, the beast struggled as if resisting the change.  But change it did, as its wings shrivelled and disappeared, its back hunched, and its red scales turned green.  It howled as it dropped on all fours and began to shrink.

Laird Seron Tapinov came running out with more guards.  Tapinov asked where the monster was, and Vlad pointed awkwardly to the turtle at his feet.  Though the laird was hesitant to accept Vlad's hasty capitulation of the facts, he was concerned enough to place the turtle under guard.  Vlad wanted to question the turtle if they still could, and so a barrel was fetched and placed over the turtle, and the guards stood around it.  The Laird thanked Vlad profusely, but there was little time for congratulations because there were three adventurers whose fate needed to be determined.

Luckily, Barada was just snoozing peacefully, and only needed to be awoken.  Hristo and Gabriel were a different matter.  Strangely, they showed no sign of burn wounds, but were still on the verge of death.  Since the Petrok Estate was nearby, Alexander was finally summoned so he could come help carry the bodies to the Chapel of Zilchus, and arrange for their healing there.  The cost of the healing was marked off Vlad's writ, but the priest Leris Borgev recommended the two should be left there until morning to rest.

The fog was thick that Godsday morning when the dwarf Gabriel finally awoke.  He found himself laying on a pew in a chapel surrounded by humans.  Startled, he made his way through the crowd, and to an exit.  More people were crowded around the outside of the chapel, and standing at the entrance was Alexander Petrok.  Alex tried to briefly summarize what had happened, but was too busy greeting worshippers.  Gabriel stumbled outside and tried to find his way to the Grinning Gargoyle Tavern. 

Vlad rose early and sat bleary-eyed at breakfast with his extended family.  After eating, he noticed his sister Cassandra giving his brother Demetrius a letter to deliver, but forgot to ask about it before leaving.  He was eager to get to Town Hall to speak with the Laird again.

Seron Tapinov thanked Vladamir again.  He had no answers, however, as to what had been going on.  His daughter had been weepy but silent at breakfast.  The turtle was being held at Prymp Keep, but no way of communicating with it had been found yet.  Failing that, Vlad made known to them which quest he had decided to take.  He would convince the others to go with him to Galdol, to thwart the pirate lords.

VLADIMIR'S STORY

The warmth in the room was coming from Uncle Boris' fireplace, not the flame dancing in Vlad's hand.  Vlad's eyes followed every movement of the leaping, dancing fire.  Or at least, it looked like fire because Vlad had made it so.  By now, he had practiced it so hard that he felt he could do it --

Boris' hand passed in front of Vlad's eyes.  The fire stiffened, then jumped about randomly from finger to finger on Vlad's hand. 

The short lecture which followed was a familiar one.  Vlad was concentrating too hard.  He needed to remember ahead of time how he wanted the flame to move, so that he wouldn't have to watch it. 

"But Master," Vlad spoke up when Boris had finished, "what good will an illusion of fire do, anyways?  My opponent will see it, but not feel the heat."

Boris sighed.  "Must you always see everything in terms of battle?  You will find your illusions of much more use than just to win a fight.  I swear by Boccob's eye that you should have been studied under an invoker."

This too was not a new lecture.  If Vlad wanted to be a combat mage, he should have become an apprentice to one.  Illusions were a subtle art.  If Vlad wished to become an illusionist someday, he would have to learn to think that way.  Vlad often wondered if what went unsaid was, "You are not worthy of being an illusionist."

Which was nonsense, of course.  Certainly, Vlad was young -- the youngest apprentice Uncle Boris had ever had.  But the Kostitov family was the most successful in the whole province.  His father and his father's father were from a long line of decorated soldiers.  His brothers would all follow suit, and bring more fame and glory to the family name.  Only Vlad was too weak for the life of a soldier, or so his father had told him.  But Vlad still had a chance at prestige, for Uncle Boris was a distinguished spellcaster in Hexpools, and had owed Vlad's father a favor.  Vlad's training would not only fulfill the debt, but give Vlad his chance at being as successful as his brothers. 

Vlad returned to his guest room.  He sat at his desk and picked up his empty diary book.  He turned it open to the blank first page, and pondered what he should write.  Of his failure at maintaining the illusion of flame?  No, that would not be fitting.  He closed the book.  He would begin his diary when he was a success, and it was only a matter of time until then.  That night he slept with visions of medals and promotions dancing in his head. 

Days passed.  Vlad studied hard.  Then one night, they had a visitor.  A messenger from his father's house had come in the early evening, and was shown in at once to Boris' study.  Vlad had loitered outside for awhile expecting to be let in.  When that didn't happen, he retired to the training room and passed the time memorizing until, at last, his uncle entered.  Vlad sprang up.  The man's broad shoulders slumped.  His thick, greying eyebrows hung low and sank his eyes in shadow. 

"Vladamir, that was news from Prymp.  I am afraid the news was bad.  Please sit."

Vlad automatically sank back down in his seat. 

"Your father's regiment has returned from the Iron Hills.  They had been routed by the dwarves, and suffered heavy losses.  Your father did not survive.  I am sorry."

Vlad had listened to every word, though they had seemed strangely unintelligible.  He had to mull them over in his mind to make some sense of them.  Boris was right next to him now, and placed his hand on the young man's shoulder.

"I am sorry.  If it is any consolation, you may stay here and complete your training.  Your family has --"

"My family has what?"

"Your family has sent the remainder of my fee."

Vlad rose up, suddenly flush with anger.  "You are owed no fee!  You owed my father!"

Boris shook his head.  "Your father spent a great deal of money to ensure your education.  I don't know what you were told.  I only hope your family back in Prymp can live without the money they sent."  He paused.  "Anyways, there is no need for us to continue your studies tonight.  You may have the evening off.  Again, I'm sorry."

And soon Vlad was alone.  Feeling most alone.  He needed to know what he should do.  Although his uncle had not said so, Vlad could end his training and return to Prymp with the money the messenger had brought.  Or he could remain here and continue with what his father had wanted. 

What his father had wanted.