WORK IN PROGRESS…

In the sepulcher, the groups wait and finish divvying up their goods. Many members of the group are badly wounded and mull over whether or not to continue the raid.

Grum and Alwyn go ahead to scout ahead to secure the area. Alwyn goes SE while Grum heads NE. Grum slinks in the shadows unnoticed and sees a giant chieftain with 4 guards in tow. Grum immediately runs back and lets the groups know of the oncoming groups. Alwyn notices and returns to the group and prepares himself as well.

“If you wish not to fight, I can try to conceal us” Xostin suggests “I don’t have the ability to cloak us all, but if we wish to remain still, I can make it appear as if we are a part of the land surrounding the tomb.”
“And what if the giant smells us?!” Galrim fires back.
“I’m in no condition to fight!” Galather interjects, exhausted and still on the mend.
“Then we hide, and fight if we have to” Vetnik finishes.

The parties stand together against the edge of the bowl and Xostin incants an ornate ritual that conceals the group against the rocks. Shortly after the spell, the chieftain and his men stomp down into the bowl towards the tomb. Dressed in pelts and armor and helmet. They grunt and claw at the dirt, searching. Flurmin hears their grunts “They know somebody’s been here, they’re going to investigate.” After a few moments inside the tomb, they hear they angered cries of the giant party. Flurmin whispers to Galrim, who strokes his beard in contemplation.

“My men recall a potion of giant control we found in tomb. Shall we try our hand?” Galrim
“How many does it work on?” Grum
Galrim shrugs unknowingly. “We can try two or focus our energies on one.”
“We can sick two on the other two flunkies and we rush in and kill the chieftain. If we use the potion on him and he resists, we’re done.” Thom
“Alwyn, have any prayers left in you?” Galather
Alwyn silently moves to Galather, shuts his eyes, and traces something in the air across Galather’s forehead. A sigil appears, glowing green and hovering in front of Galather’s face before disappearing. Alwyn has managed a to restore some of his comrade’s health with a silent prayer.

Together, they break Xostin’s illusion and head back towards the sepulcher. Flurmin imbibes the potion of Giant Control and spies them around the corner and cause the two giants to start beating the two others. The chieftain rushes in trying to break up the disorder. “Someone has defiled the Headsplitter Tomb! Goroth with crush their skulls and wear them as charms around my neck!” the chieftain grunts.

The party rushes in to ambush the chieftain, Goroth. Vetnik leads the charge slashing at the chieftain with his longsword. Vetnik misses, but the charge is enough to draw the chieftain’s attention. Flurmin takes up his new warhammer and swings, but misses. Goroth screams something at Flurmin, and in his rage, he misses the dwarf with his war hammer. Moira misses with Starstrike. Grum unleashes Lyn and Slå and sticks the chieftain with quick and effective precision, stabbing him deep in his arm. Thom begins to drum at the back of the party and Trisoll follows suit by reciting a blessing. Lyssa extends her hand and summons a radius of Darkness around the giants’ heads. Galather steels himself and knocks a couple arrows back at the same time, the second of the two hitting the chieftain. Alwyn knocks his arrows back in a similar fashion, and just like his brother the second arrow hits. Galrim rushes the chieftain with his glowing axe but misses. Xostin stabs at the chieftain in his Achilles’s heel and wounds him deeply.

Galather draws back a couple more arrows, the first of which hit. Moira is next to act and slashes through the chieftain’s guts and he falls. His guts steam as he lays dead on the ground. The party watches as the two attacked giants, incensed by the death of their leader, turn their attention towards the party. They finish off the charmed giants pair together. The first cuts at Vetnik with a jagged sword stained with his giant brother’s blood. The cocky cavalier is cut but is quick to respond only to miss his attack. Galrim swings his axe and cuts into another giant. Flurmin attacks his war hammer but misses. Grum whips out his shocking daggers again slashes at a giant, cutting him deep in the leg. Thom sends two of his arrows into the same giant. Moira follows suit but as she swings, a strap from her breastplate snaps off. Moira is quick to catch it and cover herself.

“I was hoping for some minge!” Thom jests under his breath while continuing to drum.

Xostin misses with his blade, as does Alwyn with his arrows. One of the giants comes for Galrim with a jagged sword, cutting into the dwarf’s leg with it. So deep is the cut, it shocks Galrim for a moment and the damage sends him reeling on the ground. Galather fires off two arrows at the attacking giant. Trisoll runs to Galrim and burns the last of his healing spell on the dwarf which calms him. Lyssa summons into the air a great beam of fire and launches it like flaming arrow, shooting through the giant and staggering it even more.

Moira quickly slashes at the burned giant twice and cuts through the giant’s burned chest. Vetnik turns his attention to the other giant and sticks him twice with his longsword. Galather fires off more arrows, only one of which hits. In response, he swings his jagged blade at Xostin. So severe is the blade and the illusionist suffers a deep and dull gash. Galrim howls out in pain for his leg and his fallen brother.

“NOOOOO!”

Defying the brink of death, Galrim tries to swing but he can’t seem to make it. Thom fires his arrows and hits. Lyssa attempts to disarm the giant by levitating the blade out of his hand, but isn’t able to. Instead, a wall of force comes up in front of the mage — which shocks her as she believed her magic to be controllable since the demon that plagued her had been exorcised! Trisoll drags the body out of harms way while Alwyn fires off a pair of arrows, enraged. Grum leaps in with his shocking daggers and delivers a pair of deadly slashes. The electricity fells the giant!

The wall of force shatters and disappears into nothingness. Lyssa steps forth and cautiously casts detect magic and finds Goloth’s belt to indeed be magic. The party readies their carts and rushes out of the barrows. They rush to the plains of the Cairn hills with no disruption. The party heads towards Elmshire as dawn approaches. Galrim fades in and out of consciousness, he mourns over the death of his companion.

“Though he was not Raven’s Claw, after the games he was going to be inducted. Maybe our new friends here from Greyhawk can help us.” Galrim laments.
“I know someone who might be able to help you.” Vetnik replies.
“You do?”
“We should preserve the body though.”
“Alwyn and your friend Trisoll have agreed to prepare the body.”

The party come upon a clearing and set up camp as the morning sun starts to show. The watches are uneventful, as the party sleeps and reads and rests. As Galather watches, they party wakes to see his bow knocked. They hear orcish voices in the distance.

“Let them come” Alwyn boasts.
The orcs hiss from the bush. “Sniff, sniff! We smell elf blood hahaha!”

Vetnik begins to charge after them, but Galather questions him. “You’re really going to go after them?”
Galather fires off two arrows, killing one and missing the other. He prepares to draw two more arrows back before Moira rushes in attempting the knock the bow out of his hand.

“We don’t do that.” Moira says.
Galather says nothing at first, but then turns to Moira and stares her down before firing 2 more arrows, killing 2 more orcs. “Correction, you don’t do that.”
“Then why’d you need me? Why’d you wake me?” Vetnik asks.
“I didn’t know how many there were. Why, needed your beauty sleep?” Galather jokes, sheathing his bow.

“Sorry, princess. Those are 4 less orcs who would’ve slit our throats as we slept. Did what had to be done.” Galather explains to Moira, who is visibly upset by the less than heroic way the pack of orcs were dealt with.

The party picks up camp and heads into Elmshire. Now, the village is thriving and more magnificent than the party’s parents had described. No longer a humble shire, Elmshire is walled with gates and operates as more of a small but bustling province for demihumans.

“State your business!” the halfling guards demand.
“We want to stay the night, freshen up, get a good meal.” Thom fabricates.
“Hello, I’m Galrim. We’re 2 separate bands, we fought together in the Cairn Hills. One of our own has fallen in battle with hill giants.”
The guard perks up at the sound of giants and lets them in. Galrim and Vetnik go together to find a priest to see about rites for Xostin.

“Have you been here before?” Galrim asks Vetnik who accompanies him to the nearest temple.
“No, but I could tell you about it. My father traveled here.” Vetnik explains.
“For a barbarian you’re—“
“Not stupid?”
Vetnik tells Galrim the story of the defense of Elmshire against the Drow. “Your parents must be great heroes here.”
“Oh, they are!”

The others tie off their horses and head to the Inn of the Rolling Meadow. Inside, the clientele is almost exclusively demihuman. Mostly haltings, with a peppering of gnomes. The barkeep, Ouidden Arlus, welcomes them in.
“What can I do for you today?” the barkeep asks.
“Some grub to start, and drinks” Thom replies.
“And baths!” Grum interjects.

Back at the Temple of Garl Glittergold, a high priestess named Diathenea Ansey takes audience with Galrim. For a donation, she proposes they attempt a resurrection spell. Vetnik goes into the priestess’ chambers and introduces himself.

“I came with Galrim. My name is Vetnik Talthraudii, Earl of Granud.”
“The name sounds familiar…”
“I am the son of Vetnik Talthraudii, Grand Duke of Granrud."
“A Northman and a Nobleman! It is indeed, my honor.”
“I wanted to discuss possibly waiving the fee for the dwarf. His brother at arms fell because I invited them brought along. I can take on a boon, or—“
“I can reduce the fee, certainly. As a cavalier, I’m sure you’re a man of your word.”
“I’m in Greyhawk, there aren’t too many Talthraudii’s in Greyhawk.”
“Please send Galrim back in, and thank you for your audience.”

“What did you two discuss?”
“Nonono, you took on a boon on our behalf?”
“You do what you can for those who help.”
“Truly, you’re a cavalier worthy of your status.”

While they wait, he hands Vetnik a leather patch bearing the Raven’s Claw. Vetnik bows before him and thanks him for the honor. Humbled, he welcomes Vetnik into the Raven’s Claw order.

Downstairs, after the Black brothers take their bathes, a halfling crier enters the inn. He calls out for the heroes who killed Goroth Kingslayer. Vetnik and all stand, even Lyssa hesitantly. The crier begins a song, championing their feat and rousing the bar into cheers. Vetnik turns his attention to Moira, who gleefully watches the performance. She turns for a moment and notices him staring intently.

“Vetnik!” Mo
“What, I’m smiling?”
“What, I didn’t know you—“
“Know I what?”
“Nevermind. Heh.”
“How about a drink, on me.”
“I can’t drink”
“Sure you can. I’m sure Cortox doesn’t mind his agents haven’t a pint or two.”
“She said she didn’t want a drink” Lys
Vetnik stops, rolls his eyes, and stomps away.
“I think you offended Vetnik.”
“He’ll be fine, a little bruised ego never killed a prince.”

Moira rushes after Vetnik. “Don’t go! Lyssa means well, she’s just looking out for me.”
“I respect you too much to take advantage of you.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself. Let’s have that drink”

Moira and Vetnik walk back in. Moira is clueless as to what kind of drink to order. She picks up a stein and looks curiously at it. Flurmin and Galrim are already lit while the rangers sip on ciders. Trisoll gets a little tipsy while the Black brothers casually sip their spirits. Trisoll downs a pint of dwarves ale and is properly lit.
“You’re alright!” a drunken Trisoll, wobbling over towards Lys.
“You’re drunk” lys remarks dryly.
“No kidding! Hahahaha! No seriously, ever since we got that demon out of you, you’ve been so chill.”
Lys fumes at the happy pack across from her, Vetnik and the dwarves from Raven’s Claw, who surround Moira and cheer her on and she sips on a housemade concotion. “Thanks for the compliment.”
“Take a look at those two. So weird, right? The ‘happy couple’.”

Moira raves over Quidden’s amazingly light but potent drink and after a pint soon finds herself in the throws of drunkeness. She stumbles away from Vetnik at the bar, over to Lyssa. “Oh, I feel hot! What’s wrong?!”
“You’re making a fool out of yourself. You’re stumbling around like a common drunk.”
Moira looks crushed and defeated. “I… I…”
“You’ve done way worse in inns, Lyssa. Let her have a little fun tonight.” Gr
Vetnik steps away from the dwarves and the barkeep and moves towards Moira, Lyssa, and Grum. “Moira, how about another?” He pauses and sees an almost embarrassed expression on her face.
“She’s fine, but thank you.” Lys
Vetnik steps to Lyssa and berates her about her low upbringing and questionable moral character, how she could have any right to pass judgement on anyone having done the things she’s done (low blow!) Lyssa glares at him, gritting her teeth and bearing his harsh remarks. “Enough of this. I didn’t realize I was still in the company of children. I’m out of here!”
Vetnik leaves the inn, and Elmshire, for Greyhawk in a night’s ride.
“Wow” Th

Grum carts Moira off to her room, where she passes out lamenting her missed opportunity with Vetnik. Downstairs, the crier notices Thom’s drums.
“Are you a bard?”
“Yes, I took up the path of the blade and have been in training since.”
“Care to play with me?”
The pair play a discordant impromptu jam that still seems to arrest the crowd.

On the trail home on the second hour, Vetnik sees red cloaked figures walking down the road. Vetnik rides off the road and sees them not acknowledge him. They are shoeless and ignore the cavalier.

In the morning, everyone except Galrim waits downstairs. Xostin returns with Galrim. “Where is Vetnik? I owe him gratitude!”
“He’s… gone.” Th
“Did he scout ahead?” Xo
“Probably not.” Th
“I know he took on a boon to reduce Raven Claw’s debt.” Xo
“I have no other emblems but I would like to make you all honorary members of Raven’s Claw and in time, if you wish to consider full pledging.”
“I would love to you” Gr
“It’s nice to be a part of something bigger than yourself.” Tri
“I… I don’t, the principles, can we discuss those more in depth first?” Mo
“Of course, in time. I will tell you your friend accepted.” Ga
“Oh, he did?” Mo

Galrim sends Galather with the brand to go to the tanner to make new patches. 20 minutes later, he returns.

Together they head out. On the robe, they see 5 red robed figures.
“I can’t see faces, but they seem to be humanoids on foot. In red robes.” Al
“We probably shouldn’t attack them unless they appear threatening.” Gr
“Shall we just pass them?” Gala
“I’ll talk to them!” Tri
Thom makes wages for wizards vs. cultists. Flurmin and Grum get in on the bet.

“Hey, what’s going on guys?”
They ignore him and keep walking.
“It’s rude to not acknowledge a greeting!”
One looks up, a human with a dazed wide eyed look on his face.
“So, are you guys like wizards or cultists or what?!”
“I think it’s cultists for the win!”
“I’ll secede but that doesn’t mean they can’t be wizards too.”

Later on, on a stump, they see a row of mushrooms on a stump. Lyssa goes in for a closer look and identifies them as edible mushrooms. As they’re hanging out, a 13 yr old girl walks out and is startled.
“Those are my mushrooms, sirs!”
“We figured they were someone’s.” Gr
“They’re mushrooms for my father’s business. He’s a spicer, Yllmoth’s Spices.”
She nervously gathers them up into her basket and runs away.

Vetnik gets to the manor and finds a reunited Lyks and Xanti in the manor. She answers the door.
“Oh, hello? Oh…oh, Vetnik!”
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you too, dear.”
“Come in, George is in the kitchen and Zemilay is waiting in the parlor.”

“Why are you here with only yourself in tow?”
“I lost my cool, which I think you can understand.”
“Ha! Yes, I can.” Goerge brings Vetnik a warm bowl of stew. Vetnik regales Zem with their giant slaying tales. He shows Zem the patch of Raven’s Claw.
“You must have done something right to have that honor bestowed on you in such a short time.”
Zem explains to Vet why Xanti is back.
“I don’t know if I’m having a change of heart, but I no longer find this honorable.”
“In what way?”
“I came to fight for honor and glory and not be babysitting people in their cat fights.”
“Seems you did both.”
“I just need time to think” Vetnik retires to his room.

Several hours later, the rest of the heroes enter the city. Raven’s Claw decides to stay a few more nights but asks them to come to the games with them.
“The games is a huge match, with 1000s of warriors all fighting for a grand prize. We’ll be here for a few more days, and once we’re ready to set off we will touch base once more. And not just warriors, dear lass, spell casters such as yourself.”
“We’ll be sure to holler. In the meantime, be sure to check out The Dripping Blade!” Th

“The belt, do you mind if I take it. I can perhaps miniaturize it, or at least discover what it was used for.” Lys

The party heads to the Manor.
“Vetnik is up in his room.” George
Lyks hobbles out on his staff, with his wife Xanti at his side.

“Dad, we met these really cool guys, Raven’s Claw! There’s like 2 really cool dwarves, one has an axe, and 2 half elfs, one is kind of dick but whatever, and a gnome wizard warrior who died but Vetnik negotiated in Elmshire to get him resurrected. I dunno why he’s being such a buzzkill, where is he any way, moping in his room?”
“Vetnik has expressed some dissatisfaction at his treatment within the group, those who don’t wish to respect his boundaries and feelings.” Ze
“I’ll go talk to him.” Mo to Ze
George dispenses food and drink. As he heads up to Vetnik, Moira intercepts. “I’ll take it up to him, George.”