Game 6: Three Halflings Walk Into a Bar....

How? How could this have happened again?

The day started out normal enough, with a villager pointing us to the lair of the Hound, deep in the Sunken Fens. We had been up drinking and acquired a few more hangers-on, three halflings this time. Their high voices contrasted with the dwarves booming tones just made my hangover worse, and the highlight of our trek was when Kain began tossing them across a swampy patch when we went to cross. Slim and I bet on the success of this endeavor to take our minds from the foul smelling fog gathering around us. He got my ukelele for a while, but I won it back, along with a gold piece when the  dwarf failed to pole vault across. We found a shallower passage further upstream, and spared our clothes the mud.

We came to an ominous looking sinkhole and assumed it was where the foul beast had made its home. We had to tell the halfling we were looking for an underground picnic area to convince him to let us lower him, but he proved more clever than his constant chatter would make one guess and came back with loot. There were gold pieces to share, a shiny metal symbol, a bronze torque, and a bronze buckler! I was so excited to see a shield without the pollution of iron that I had words with Moira over it. She finally relented and took the torque instead.

Then the halfling proved his cleverness to be of the sort that ebbs and flows. He took hold of the metal symbol and drew a part at the top down, like a scroll. Glowing blue orbs floated out and hovered above each person's head. I looked up to find my own orb just as it sped down and sank into my forehead. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation, nor entirely unfamiliar, as something other than me took up residence inside my skull.

Somehow we made it back to the inn. The next week was somewhat subdued, and no one wished to discuss what had happened. I gave the halflings a wide berth.

Another late night, but this time we were not alone. Several villagers lingered to gossip about rumors of the strange comet and that the dwarves to the south had found our boat. The halflings, quick to trust and quicker to speak, told of a ferry that may let us cross, should we wish to retrieve the boat. Moira began to speak longingly of home. I did not know she harbored such poetry inside. Her maudlin mood seemed to dissipate when she engaged a strange woman in conversation, and they were soon joined by Paug. All three left while Varg! bent the ear of some other poor soul about the Wolf Mother, and a tall, handsome man caught my eye. Slim was talking, some ramble about an emerald enchanter's citadel or tower or something, but I couldn't take my eyes from the man. He looked so much like my lost love...

We were in the darkest corner when the room began shaking. I had felt this before. My brain did a backflip in my skull as the known universe dropped from beneath our feet and was replaced by another. Light showed through the halfling's pocket where he still carried that odd symbol, going from green to red. When the motion stopped, I ran to the closest window and flung open the shutters. The sky was orange, and a huge moon, cracked and pitted like a dropped scrying-ball, dominated the sky. Not home yet, but closer. Definitely closer.

Everyone began babbling, and I shoved the man I had just been embracing away in disgust. We discovered that the basement had been town away and our unfortunate serving boys are dead, along with all of our ale and most of our provisions. We went to the door and peered outside at the strange landscape.

The sky darkened then. Moira slammed the door, but not before half a dozen flying lizard-like things squirmed in. They darted through the air, hissing and spitting as they swooped over our heads. We killed them but could hear more beating against the shutters and door. They eventually went away, and everyone gathered at the door again.

The Wolf Spear has been relocated to the bottom of a valley, with a mountain in the distance. We could see ape-ish men, half-concealed in the weird light, waiting with boulders raised to cast upon our heads, but they skulked back at a strange call. A creature like none I've ever seen cantered into view. It was like a piece of night sky, with the same broken moon where its head should be and tentacles instead of arms. Small objects orbited the ends as if they were planets themselves, and a curious tail curled behind it. Slim called out and tried to address the thing, but with a moon for a face there was no way to tell its response. It turned towards us, and Kain slid forward as if possessed. Varg! and one of the villagers went next, as if some gale shoved them forward. They struggled but Kain and Varg! were sucked into the creature. We lost one of the halflings as well, but the villager was able to pull away. The planets on its limbs spun faster and the light from its moon-face grew brighter, then Kain was spit back out, babbling of wasps and holding his side. But of brave Varg! there was no sign. We pulled ourselves together and headed towards the ruins of a city, quiet and eerie in the orange light.

Game #5: Permanent Funeral

We could hear the rain trickling over the rocks in the partially collapsed room Moira led us to. The men who had attacked us earlier could be seen hiding amongst the trees at the edge of the valley. One came to investigate and was taken by the water-snake. After taking stock of the situation, Varg! seemed to go into a fit of some sort, chanting and waving his hands in the air. The shadows gathered until a wolf stood solid before us. It seemed normal enough, bringing a welcome breath of the forest to this dank crypt, except for the quick way it responded to Varg!'s commands. The others bickered over a plan, something about pretending to be killed by the wolf so the enemies outside would come inside to check. I hid myself close to the entrance and began calling out for help, playing the role of the helpless damsel. The others fell over themselves screaming and clashing their swords as if facing a terrible foe, and Varg! sent the wolf out. All of our enemies began to approach but one. I continued to call out and crouched over my spear to wait. Moira clambered onto a shallow ledge next to the entrance. She waited until several filed past her, then threw herself shield-first into the mix. The man who seemed to be the leader was directly in front of me, and Paug's dagger sped from the darkness to slice his arm to the bone. I took advantage of the man's distraction and rose up, impaling him on my spear. All my anger from the last several years released in a rush, and I did not realize I was laughing as I gutted the man until I saw the others' horrified looks. Several of the other attackers had fled during this, and Kain and Slim went after the cowards. Varg!'s wolf helped Slim dispatch one, and Moira finished the last with a well-placed hammer throw. After looting their bodies, we headed back to town to hole up in the inn and rest.

We found two boys inside the inn. They were tasked to take care of the day-to-day workings of the inn, and they seem to take the news of their former employers demise and our appropriation of the space well enough. I retreated to one of the rooms above with food and water enough to wash the blood from both myself and my clothes. It is an uneventful night.

A loud knocking the next morning pulled me from bed, and I nearly forgot to braid my hair over my ears before stumbling down the stairs. One of the acolytes had arrived and was demanding our names for the lottery. For once I blessed Paug's rude tongue as he blistered the ears of this spineless minion until he left. We had barely finished breakfast when a louder knocking sounded at the door. This time it was four of the Jarl's men. Judging this to be a better time for diplomacy, I invited them in, and we offered them drinks. They seem displeased with the lottery and deaths, but were too invested in their petty power to help us. Fools.

Several of the others went into town to sell off our spoils and try to procure better armor for the dwarves. While the rest of us were waiting, Varg! related the details of the witch's proposition, namely that she wanted him to marry her. Paug opened the inn for business, and villagers began to fill the room to taste the bizarre concoction he was selling, claiming it was food. I hid myself in a dim corner as best as I was able, but a high-pitched ringing could be heard even over the cacophony inside. On the verge of going mad, I broke from the crowd to go outside and find myself side by side with Kain. The priest had commandeered a portion of the square outside, and was haranguing passersby with his loud nonsense. The dwarf and I took great pleasure in breaking his damn bell. Back inside, I heard the others remarking on a red beam going from the ground to the northern sky, and a comet of some sort. It sounds very odd.

Moira, Paug, and I went to visit this witch. I knew not what Paug had planned, but simply went along to see if I could get a better idea of her power. Moira waited outside. Once in the strangely large interior of the witch's hut, Paug began claiming to bring her greetings from Varg! and tried to flatter the woman. I noted her warning that the Hound must be bound before it can be killed, and that it could be wrestled to the ground by the 'right' man. The witch gave us twine she spun from fire, then asked Paug to marry her. He handled it well enough, but she grew impatient with his constant talking and we found ourselves abruptly outside. No matter how hard we tried, we could not return.

The inn emptied once it was time for the lottery, and we followed the villagers to their town square. The Jarl was conspicuously absent. No one objected when we volunteered to go. The mob escorted us to the standing stones, then left us to our task.

The others had tried to press one of the recovered spears on me, but I could not bear the foul touch of the iron weapons for very long. Moira ended up with the wolf-spear and Kain had both the magic twine and the backup spear. Bartimus' hands glowed and seemed to wither away to mere bones. He warned us not to touch him. Slim began passing around a drinking horn, and it was quickly determined to have healing qualities. Just then we heard the Hound howl.

Branches began thrashing as something came towards us through the trees. After Varg! was attacked I retreated beneath one of the menhirs. It was difficult to see what happened, but Varg! pointed to the edge of the clearing and cried out just before a glowing ray struck him down. Everyone scrambled for cover, and the Hound went after Slim while Moira saved Varg! with the healing horn.

Moira managed to smash the Hound over the head with her hammer while the rest scrambled into the woods. She pinned the beast to the ground, and I swear the dwarf seemed to grow larger as she wrestled with the thing! I threw myself at the Hound and tried to help hold it down, and soon everyone else was piled on us both. Kain managed to wrap the Hound in the magic twine, and the beast howled in pain when Bartimus merely touched it. It tried to turn to smoke. It was most unsettling, feeling something turn from solid as you were trying to keep hold of it, but the twine worked to keep it from fading. Moira seemed to be giving it great blows with her hammer, and the Hound died a pitiful death.

We returned, triumphant, to Hirot, and share the news with the villagers. I ignored their celebrations for the most part, as the others were discussing going to the Hound's lair. It seems someone remembered the witch mentioning it might be worthwhile...

Game #2: Wolf Boners

While escaping from the terrible Chaos Cult on the boat, we noticed a road called the Kingsway. We secured the boat to the shore and planned to go back after the thaw, but it was a long, harsh winter and we all had survival foremost on our minds. Soon after the village shook off its blanket of snow and began to think of spring, our original group found itself in the tavern with an eager audience of villagers. After listening to tales of our exploits last winter, some of them want to join in our adventuring. What fools.

It is raining when we leave, and the boat we secured months ago has drifted from its mooring. I finally spy it far out in the water. The others and I begin devising a plan to swim out and regain it, but the stupid peasants that followed us begin to make a fuss. A pack of jackals has emerged to harry the group, and I stand back to see if any of them make an accounting for themselves. Some of the others help out of some misguided sense of honor. Two of the villagers show some promise, so I step in and dispatch one of the jackals.

While our attention was distracted, the boat has drifted further out. We chase after it like sun-struck dogs to head it off, but it becomes clear the boat is lost for good. Since the road is nearby, we decide to follow it and see what fortune lies that way.

Soon it grows misty and cold, with bleak mountains visible in the distance. Screams and vague, shuffling forms appear before us in the fog. There is a mob driving a bound woman before them. She is unwilling and angry, pausing to glare at particular ones in the group, so it would seem she knows them. There are several rough knights on horseback guiding the group, each wrapped in a wolfskin so that the maw rests on their forehead. I hear Varg! murmuring to one side. One knight answers our hail and explains they are taking the woman Valatress to be a sacrifice to the Hound. The others begin to talk amongst themselves, but I slip in among the mob, curious to see where they are headed and if any mischief can be had. Ancient stones loom ahead, similar to the ones around the Chaos Cult's temple. The townspeople take no notice of me, as they have worked themselves up into a frenzy of fear and bloodlust.

One of the knights, a leader of some sort who calls himself Jarl, begins some speech about how their sacrifices keep their village safe. I consider throwing a stone to shut his large mouth. Varg! interrupts, seeming upset at this blasphemy, and Jarl tells him he is welcome to take the girl's place as tonight's sacrifice. Maybe Varg! has some worth.

The townspeople quickly disperse, and the others free Valatress from her bonds. She advises us to return to the safety of the town and her father's inn. She claims the Hound mutilates but does not eat its prey, and that before they began surrendering one of their own every three days, it stalked the town itself and had no end to its appetite. The leader Jarl has an augur who advocated the sacrifices, and it did seem to keep the beast from entering the town. The overly loud thief Paug persuades most of the others to join Valatress, and they leave for the Sign of the Wolf-Spear Inn, so named for its replica of a local weapon of great renown.

Varg!, Kain Cakecrumbs and two of the villagers by the name of Slim and Takeshi join me in waiting for the Hound instead of seeking the false comfort of walls. We build a fire and patrol the clearing, peering into the growing dark. A deep growl sounds in the distance, and I draw closer to the fire to give my companions courage.

A great beast slinks from the shadows and sets upon Takeshi, killing him. It is no wolf, but a strange beast with scales and an unnervingly intelligent glare. It shook its victim as if to shock us, playing with his body as a cat does with live prey. Then battle was upon us.

I do not remember all the details. These are lost to firelight and shadow, but I believe Kain was the first to wound it. Black ichor flowed over his blade instead of blood, and the Hound screamed in pain. Slim showed true courage in the face of such horror, and Varg!, strangely submissive, threw himself in front of the man to deflect a blow that surely would have killed the villager. When Kain struck again, the sinister beast faded into a cloud of smoke and disappeared. But it is mortal, and I am heartened by the thought of returning to end its unnatural hold on these weak-willed townspeople.

We gathered ourselves and headed off to find the town. The watch actually thought to bar our entry at first. The nerve! Our companions were at the inn, already cheerful with drink and warbling some nonsensical song. There was another howl, loud enough to penetrate the thick walls, and the others seemed to eye the cold bars at the window and take comfort. Having watched the Hound tear the villager into pieces and almost seem to laugh as it did so, I have less faith in the inn's stout door.

People from the town begin to trickle in to distract themselves with drink and food. Have they no sense of shame? Would they have left the innkeeper's daughter to die and expect him to serve them the same? Varg! seems to share my mood and we take a seat in the corner, away from these callous idiots.

Game 1#: Luck and Slaughter