Giant Slayer

A letter to Second UnderMage of Nethys, Grand Temple In Sothis
4715, 4Th week, Calistril, Starday

Dearest Aunt Aysphyra,
I hope this missive finds you well and in the gaze of the All Seeing Eye of White Faced Nethys. Since I last wrote you, I have continued north into the Hold of Belkzen. Your advice to explore the world and learn what might exist outside of my fathers magic shop and the city of Absalom is proving to be sage and beneficial. I shall never again resist your counsel. When you invited me to the Grand Temple to recover, after my grand folly so many years ago. I remained obdurate in declining and when i finally relented and journeyed to your side my spirit and conscience were healed.

I arrived in the Town of Trunau, a bastion against the orcs, of the Hold of Belkzen. Not long after my arrival, I went to the town Commons to witness a local ritual in which a dagger is given to a child who is now become a full citizen of the town. The newly made adult promises to use their Hope Knife to defend the town and its citizens against the Orcs. Apparently it is also the custom for the new made adult to pick people from the crowd to engage in games on behalf of the Child. Oddly enough I was chosen to participate and thus the first steps into what has so far been the most amazing adventure. I can hardly credit what happened next. I met some of the towns primary citizens my new friends and I were invited to stay at an inn to celebrate the glorious day. The very next morning we awoke to learn that the Captain of the town guard had been found dead in the very same inn, and thought to have committed suicide His brother enlisted me and my new friends aid to investigate the situation. He believed that there was no way his brother would have committed suicide. In fact, our investigation caused us to determine that he had been murdered. During our investigation we learned about a plan for the invasion of Trunau, by the Orcs.

It is an amazing thing that as I pen this letter to you, I prepare with my new found comrades to join the brave citizens of Trunau to defend their city. In just a short time I have come to care about the people of the city, and my new comrades. For the first time in my life, I have sought the terrible Black Eyed Visage of Nethys to aid me in the destruction of the violent attackers. I promise to write again, as soon as I am able. I pray you bless me, my companions and the good people of Trunau in the name of Nethys.

Your loving and devoted nephew,

Elynnar
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A pause in the battle
Torsten licks his wounds

Torsten sheathed his sword and turned toward the black passage in back of them. With a few precise movements of his free hand and a familiar arcane chant several lantern like lights appeared to illuminate their way back over the bridge that spanned the chasm. Fortunately Elynnar Landrias‘s acidic grease spell seamed enough of a deterrent that their enemies didn’t pursue them. Torsten walked backwards watching the passageway for few seconds just in case he was wrong. Satisfied, Torsten Stein turned to follow his friends.

A few moments later their beat up group arrived in the chamber where they had defeated the too large spiders and the bizarre bird like creatures known as Gryphs. Torsten Stein wasn’t bleeding anymore thanks to the last of his healing magic but, welts ,bruises, and half healed lacerations covered his face, forearms, and torso. He eyed the others of the party; Elynnar Landrias was panting from the retreat but seemed ok despite his ripped robes, Leetsa seemed to be nearly untouched except a couple minor wounds, she was eyeing the bridge carefully with a drawn bow, Ud Nibbleaxe was looked as bad as Torsten felt. You could see the dire wolf had sunk it’s teeth into the stalky Dwarf more than once but Ud’s grim stoic face remained determined.

Torsten took a drink of brandy from his skin. With no healing at his disposal he was left with nothing but liquid courage. After a moment the magical lights he cast started to fade so he recast the spell. He could hear the breath of his companions and the water dripping of the cavern sides. No one had spoke since they fled. Torsten Stein, not knowing what else to do, took another swig of his grog, cleared his voice and said, “so what’s next?”

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From the Journal of Ud Nibbleaxe, baby-killer
I'm feeling a bit conflicted, given my calling as a midwife...

Following the rats’ retreat, we received a brief respite in the form of a visit from a priest of a nearby township. She healed us as best she could, and we also received a messenger with healing aid from Fijit, but soon we had to resume the mission, bidding her farewell. Myself and the others advanced slowly, only to find ourselves set upon by vile creatures of both bird and spider qualities. One quickly injected its young into poor Leetsa, while the rest of us smashed the things to bits. Once the things were felled, I turned my attention to the unfortunate gnome, digging with Incisor into her belly, where the eggs were quickly maturing into more monstrosities.

Delicately, I extricated them, squishing one myself and throwing the other under Thorsten’s boot. Seemingly spared the agonizing death of hatching the monsters, we healed Leetsa and moved on. Foolishly, I went on ahead, not wishing any more harm on the gnome, and I was instantly surrounded by vile spiders. Nimbly, I leapt to one side, attacking as I retreated, while the others shot at the rest of the spiders from afar.

We were dealt a few savage blows, but ultimately squashed the creatures, cleaning our wounds and pressing on. The mysteries of the cavern still eluded us.

I peered into the next room, seeing nothing in the dark, and I called up the rest, only to find that my sight had failed me when Elynnar lit up the room and we were attacked by two enormous wolves and their half-orc handler, an ugly foe whose appearance matched the description of the vile Skreed, the one behind this whole nightmare.

We fought well, dealing many attacks against our enemies, but we were driven back with the arrival of a flood troll, retreating back down the hallway to catch our breath and strategize. I knew not how we would defeat these enemies, but I knew just as well that we could not turn back.

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From the Journal of Ud Nibbleaxe, defender
May it never be said I didn't stand my ground.

We came upon the Hope Springs, winded from our run from the gate, emerging into the open shore beyond the houses there. A cave giant and two orcs, attached to the larger beasts by chains for the purposes of direction, stood on the far side of the Hope Springs, the giant enlarging the opening they had made under the next layer of the city as we approached. With my dwarven eyes, I made out that there were tunnels beyond the opening, but this had no time to shock me, as I quickly hoisted Leetsa up to the top of a nearby house and positioned myself behind a pile of rocks.

Within seconds of each other, we opened fire, with Thorsten providing support through devastating grenades. Roaring its rage, the giant charged across the springs, its gnarled mouth frothing with fury. Leetsa, Elynnar, and myself continued to fire, filling it with arrows until it ran up directly before me, bringing its fists up high to smash. Elynnar quickly retreated to keep attacking from range, but I knew I could not let the monster pursue someone so unaccustomed to melee combat. So, foolheartily, I leapt up on the pile of rocks, shouting into the giants face as it attempted to pummel both the nearby Leetsa and myself. I landed a solid hit, but it was the efforts of Thorsten and Leetsa that felled the beast in the end, another of Thorsten’s grenades delivering the killing blow by way of fire. It was then I turned my attention to the orc handlers…only to find that they had been pummeled to death in the giant’s mad swings. The battle was over.

Moments later, Kurst arrived, looking far better than the night before, though still bandaged and weary. He commended us for our deeds, charging us to enter into the exposed tunnel across the springs. Curiosity already pulling at me, I readily agreed, as did my companions.

As we reached the opening, I motioned for the others to stay back while I scouted ahead. My keen sight in dark places would make me the best candidate for such things, and I didn’t wish for any of them to be caught off-guard. I believe that this decision may have saved a life in the end, for, as I came upon the first junction in the dark, I was set upon by a swarm of ghostly rats. Calling out to the others, I retreated, attacking where I could and attempting to keep the swarm at bay. It was as my companions maneuvered to help, however, that I was able to strike a blow to the heart of the mass with Incisor, Brinya’s gift to me.

With the rats skittering back into the dark crevasses from which they came, we took a moment to catch our breath. We were sure to face even greater enemies further in…

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From the Journal of Ud Nibbleaxe, siege artist
The battle drags through the night, and even greater foes loom in our future...

The beast with the flaming ball in his hand charged in among the others, while my companions and I sought to slow them with falling logs and large swaths of acid and grease. Even so, wave after wave of the brutes stormed the palisades, bringing the battle into close combat, until, at last, with the aid of the ferocious Omast, we stood victorious before the gate just as reinforcements arrived.

The gate secured, our tired, bloodied band retreated to the inner quarter at the summons of a fellow dwarven warrior. There we found Fijit caring for a wounded Silvermane, as well as Halgra, who had pulled some of her troops back to rest. We were instructed to do the same, and, after attempting to cleanse myself with the sparse water provided, I spent a fitful night in mingled slumber and dark meditation. It had been a day of profound loss. Zekant, Durmok, poor Sydney’s mother and father, as well as countless citizens of Trunau. It was all I could do to keep my thoughts from turning to revenge and anger.

Upon recalling the crying, innocent face of Sydney, however, I was able to steel myself and recall the reason for which I fight; never for hatred or the return of cruelty, but for justice, and to protect those who cannot stand against the darkness. Though Gervan, Ki Master of the Brimwill Monastery, berated me many a time for losing focus in my studies, I think even he would have been proud of me as I found inner peace that night.

Come the morning, Torsten, Elynnar, Leetsa, and myself were dispatched to the front gate, driving through a swarm of monsters alongside the city guard on a mission to disable an orcish trebuchet at the Standing Stones outside of town. Upon our arrival, we found only three of the beasts guarding the siege weapon, felling them before they were able to load poor Leetsa into the weapon and launch her to her death!

We quickly set about using the siege weapon against the orcs and other foul creatures still pouring into the city, eliminating many of them with great, flying boulders until our supply of projectiles was depleted. Our mission accomplished, we set fire to the trebuchet, making back for the city gate. As we approached, however, we heard cries of a giant near the Hope Springs.

In that moment, dreadful acceptance settled in my chest. We may not be ready for such a powerful foe, but we will face it, nonetheless.

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From the Journal of Ud Nibbleaxe, the heavy-hearted
On a night steeped in darkness, things only look to grow worse...

Upon leaving Rishka bound in Rabus’ tavern, our band attempted to return to the western inner gate, where the fighting looked to be thickest. On the way, however, we heard sounds of distress, diverting our course to come across a poor citizen who was promptly struck down by an orc when we moved to intervene. A swift, but deadly battle ensued, during which I was rendered unconscious at my unwillingness to retreat and leave the dying man defenseless, and, upon my waking at the hands of Fijit, we found the Trunau man dead and heard the rapidly approaching feet of what we could only assume were even more foes.

However, instead of orc reinforcements arriving to eradicate us, we were greeted by Omast and a troop of city guardsmen. Though he was obviously inebriated, I was glad to see the man, and myself and Fijit were quickly dispatched to find Omast’s remaining nephew, Kurst, who had not been seen in far too long. We soon found the lad as his battered body was hauled up the city cliff upon which we’d stumbled, and the kind-hearted Fijit immediately set about tending to his wounds while I raced off to report to Omast and assist in the defense of the western inner gate.

The moment I arrived, Omast dispatched Leetsa and myself to rally his nearby troops, so we were off to the closest tower, arriving in time to see it crushed beneath a massive boulder. The weight of it all growing too much to bear, I was about to collapse to the ground in hopelessness. But that was the moment I spotted a still form on the street nearby. I rushed over, assessing the man’s wounds and discovering that it was, in fact, Silvermane, the master druid who had spoken to Fijit about her studies our first night in the city. Knowing that he could be a powerful ally, as well as simply wishing to help someone in need, I hastily carried the barely breathing man back to the healers at the east inner gate, sprinting back westward as soon as he was delivered.

The gate was under attack almost as soon as I returned, and myself, Omast, Leetsa, Thorsten, and Elynnar were pressed back behind the palisades, fighting for our lives in the close quarters against numerous orcs. Just as we were able to thin their numbers, however, a fresh group appeared beyond the gate, rushing in to turn the tide once more. And, before the fight fell in on me again, I spotted a sparking fuse in the putrid green hand of one orc, shrinking rapidly towards an ominous, metal casing…

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From the Journal of Ud Nibbleaxe, Barroom Brawler
What could drive a person to this?

The orc warlord in the tower felled, and the deaths of Zekant and Durmok fresh in our minds, FIjit, Leetsa, Thorsten, and myself rejoined with Elynnar, ready for our next task in this darkest of nights. No sooner were we informed of a furious battle at the city gates, however, than a cry from the nearby bar, the Killing Ground, invited us to investigate.

Upon arriving, we discovered that Rishka, a half-orc guard of Trunau, had emptied the establishment of all but Rabus, the bar’s owner. Rabus was on the floor, obviously beaten by Rishka and his cohorts, so I challenged the brute. Not only did Rishka show no remorse, but the fiend admitted to allowing the attacking orc hordes inside the city!

Floored by this news, I was left to quiver in fear and anger for a moment as my compatriots surged into the room upon Rishka moving to attack. The fight was a delicate one, as the Rishka’s drunken underlings had wickedly long spears, but we eventually dropped them all, surrounding a beaten Rishka to interrogate him. He spoke of injustice and prejudice against his kind, but I could not justify the evil of his actions. Still, we patched him up, despite Leetsa’s obvious feelings on the matter, and bound him, dragging his unconscious body from the bar after seeing to Rabus.

The barkeep was so grateful for the rescue that he awarded us free drinks for life…I had not the heart to tell him, nor the exuberant Thorsten, how little this meant to me.

And so the night and the battle drag on. What other dark secrets will we uncover?

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From the Journal of Ud Nibbleaxe, orc-dropper
How many more will fall?

As I held Moreena’s child in my arms, I knew that my first priority was to see the babe to safety. Once Leetsa had respectfully closed the dead woman’s eyes, we sneaked from the building and back to our group.

“Take this child,” I said to Elynnar. “Get her somewhere safe. And…in case we don’t make it…her name is Sydney.”

Elynnar nodded his understanding and departed, while the rest of us turned our attentions to the nearby tower and the orc drums sounding from atop it. While the others moved to the entrance, I maneuvered around the back, severing the ropes that Durmok’s men had been unable to cut before falling to orc blades. Dodging arrows from above, I dropped over a dozen orcs that were climbing the ropes, then quickly sprinted to rejoin my group, hope blossoming in my chest at my success.

When I reached the front of the tower, however, I was to find my companions retreating. At my query as to what was happening, I was informed that Durmok had fallen inside, and that Fijit had a plan to even the odds.

My heart breaking for the fourth time tonight, I steeled myself to charge inside. Perhaps I could still steal the mighty Durmok from Death’s grasp. As the flurry of bats Fijit released inside swarmed our enemies, the sound of drums stopped, and we all rushed in to finish the job. Fijit dutifully checked Durmok’s broken body for signs of life, only to inform me that our friend was lost.

Enraged, I charged after Thorsten up the steps, ending an orc on the floor, while Leetsa and Thorsten felled another. Then, to my surprise, Fijit sprinted past me and dropped the last orc in the room with nothing but her tiny fist.

I had no time to marvel, however, because then we were emerging to the top of the tower, interrupting the drumming of the large orc awaiting us there. In my fury, I charged the orc, but, at a wave of his hand, I fell into a fit of magic-induced laughter. By the time I had recovered from both the spell and my resulting shame, Thorsten had been put into a magical slumber, and the gnomes were beset by the foul drummer. As I raced in to help, however, the ever-resourceful Fijit threw her dagger at the beast’s head, causing him to drop his weapons and fall from the tower.

With a cheer, I slapped Thorsten awake, running back down the tower steps to help Fijit’s mighty owl, Whisper finish the brute off. The bird had bolted in fear by the time I engaged the orc once more, and I was left alone to hound the thing’s every step. More spells assailed me, but I was able to clear my mind of doubt and press through them, hacking away at the orc’s defenses until Leetsa, Whisper, and Fijit were able to help me end the beast for good.

As Fijit’s dagger drove upward into the orc’s gut, and I saw the light finally flee from his eyes, my heart could find some solace in the fact that Durmok had been avenged. Still, with the battle raging on, there was no certainty that any of us would survive the night to mourn.

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From the Journal of Ud Nibbleaxe, midwife
In the darkest moment of my life, a glimmer of hope...

As I watched Moreena’s husband slump to the bloody street, all teachings of calm and contemplation which I learned at Brimwill Monastery fled from my thoughts, replaced with a searing, blinding rage. Without any thought for tactics or strategy, I charged forward, ready to slice every single invading orc in two, with my bare hands, if necessary. Before I could reach the vile one over the man’s body, however, another of the beasts attacked me from the side, and I was soon in the heat of combat, aware of my comrades battling for their lives around me.

The instant Durmok assisted me in felling my most immediate foe, I sprinted forward once more, pouring a potion of health down the throat of Moreena’s husband. To my dismay, I was already too late, and Moreena’s child was destined to grow up fatherless.

It was in this moment of distraction and self-doubt that I was dealt a severe blow by another orc, and I lost consciousness for…I known not how long. When I was revived, once again, by the wondrous gnome, Fijit, on whom I turned a look of deepest affection and gratitude, I surveyed the field of battle in time to watch Durmok and Torsten disembowel the last immediate orc. Then, from high above, in the nearby tower, more orcs fired ballistae down at us, forcing a retreat. Elynnar had made an excellent account of himself, dropping for orcs on his own, and no more of us had fallen to join the nearby body of Zekant.

Suddenly reminded of the body of the man by the tower, I immediately began to ask the group if they had seen Moreena since the fighting started. My fear and apprehension mounting, I moved with Leetsa around the corner of the building to which we had retreated, making out the stirring form of Moreena behind a nearby woodpile.

With nothing but a shared glance between us, both Leetsa and myself sneaked over to her, careful to remain out of sight of the tower, and I attempted to comfort the barely conscious Moreena. My heart fell within me at a dark realization, however. In Moreena’s condition, mother and child could not both survive the night.

I hesitated only for an instant, looking Moreena directly in the eye. “Moreena Lydia Lampwright,” I said firmly, my innermost self brimming with resolve, “I need you to stay awake. We are having this child!”

Again, my eyes bet Leetsa’s, and she gave a small nod, saying, “I will assist however I can.” It is only in looking back that I can marvel at how much respect we gained for each other since our first meeting. No longer did she see me as a useless child.

Together, we moved Moreena’s bloody form into the nearby hut and onto a rickety cot. Time seemed to prick at the back of my thoughts as I coaxed the fading Moreena through the process. The battle still raged outside. We had other commitments.

But none more important, or more integral to life, than to see this child safely into the world. And, as though Moreena were expending her last dregs of life to see the effort through, I soon held her child in my arms; a small, blood-smeared, helpless little girl.

The most beautiful sight I think I’ve ever seen.

Bringing the child to her mother, I watched as the two shared their first and only embrace. Then Moreena met my gaze. “What…what is your mother’s name?” she asked.

Instantly, I was transported to my childhood and thoughts of my loving mother, Uthra…then to her disapproval as I left to find myself at Brimwill Monastery, her continued letters imploring me to come home upon my arrival, and the absence of those letters at mail call some months later.

“We…um, we didn’t part on the best of terms…” I said with trepidation, my thoughts now back in the present; in that small hut that smelled of smoke, blood, and spent placenta.

Then, with her final breath, Moreena looked at her child and whispered, “Sydney…” And, as Moreena smiled weakly and fell still, the one spark of hope I possessed in all of this darkness had a name.

I reached out for the crying babe, lifting her up in my filthy arms. “Sydney,” I breathed, marveling at the child’s perfection. “Sydney Uthra Lampwright.”

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From the Journal of Ud Nibbleaxe, failure
If I'd only been faster...

It is with a great weight on my heart that I record recent events. Upon being gifted the noble Rodrick’s Hope Knife, which I have dubbed Incisor, I’d begun to think once again that, perhaps, some great destiny awaited me. If the fair lady Brynya saw something inside of me worthy of such a weapon, I must certainly have something bright on my horizon. Now, however…

As soon as the first boulders struck the city, my companions and I were on our feet, asking Kurst where we were needed. With his father gone out to recall patrols, we knew that our place was in rising to the occasion to defend the city. Thus it was that we were dispatched to ignite the city beacons that would recall reinforcements into the city.

Upon reaching the first beacon, however, we found it surrounded by townsfolk fanned to the brink of violence. Worse, they had seized Rodrick’s betrothed, Brynya. I know not what Bazel, the rabblerouser of the group, intended for the woman, but I felt great pride as those beside me stepped up to protest this injustice. Zekant, Torsten, Fijit, and myself began to implore Bazel and the crowd disperse, as the wily and elusive Leetsa began to sneak around to assist Brynya directly. After much tension and shouting, we were able to appeal to the crowd’s sense of pragmatism, pointing out that fighting amongst ourselves would only weaken us to our attackers.

The crowd dispersed (I know not what became of Bazel), we lit the beacon and flanked Brynya on all sides. It was then that Halgra, the city’s protector, arrived, commending us for our efforts and informing us of the existence of a traitor, one who had allowed our enemies into the city. Before departing, she ushered us off to the next beacon, sending Brynya off to protect the children in her home.

As we arrived at the next beacon, we found it broken by a falling boulder behind a barricade and a cluster of clerics. Before we could begin to assess the situation, another boulder crashed into a nearby building. Screams sounded from within the home.

My heart gripped with terror, I raced with my companions toward the building, ducking through the broken, burning doorway alongside the brave Torsten. Among the conflagration, we found Sara, the blacksmith, and Agrit, attempting to lift a beam from the other woman’s body. Feeling as though my arms would break, I managed to help Torsten heave the beam aside, attempting to cover the two women out the door.

It was then that the foul orcs fell upon us. One fell to Incisor’s touch, but Torsten was dropped within seconds. I fought as long as I could remain on my feet after a grave injury, dropping another of the beasts with Zekant’s help, but soon I, too, was unconscious. If not for the heroics of Fijit, Leetsa and Zekant, I’ve not doubt that Torsten and myself would have died on that very spot, a broken house for our funeral pyre. However, Fijit was able to revive me, and I the fallen Torsten, who dealt a death blow to the last remaining orc.

Coughing and bleeding, we retreated from the building and back behind the barricade for healing. Even as my flesh was mended, however, I heard frantic footsteps, turning to see a sprinting, shouting Leetsa. She and the boy, Zekant, had diverted course to determine where our enemies had gained entry into the city.

And, in the process, Zekant had fallen to an orc blade.

I cried out in anguish at the news. This boy, who had just gallantly saved my life, whose family we had promised we would do our best to protect and guide him, was dead. I’d not been strong or fast enough to prevent the tragedy, and now those beasts had claimed the life of one whose story had only just begun.

Dread seeming to close around me, I sprinted back toward the site of the event alongside my comrades, not even granted the chance to offer my respects to the lad’s still, bloodied form before movement caught my eyes through the buildings ahead.

Moreena, a woman I had visited earlier in anticipation of her fast-approaching time of labor, was struck down with the butt of a spear as she raced forward to assist her husband, a man held in the grasp of two orcs. Even as I watched, a third stepped forward to slit the man’s throat.

Enraged at the sight and the loss of Zekant, I charged forward, screaming at the monsters and denouncing them as the cowards they are.

But…I grow tired of the memory. I’ll finish this entry at a later time.

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