Conquering the Barbarian Altanis: Session 184
Adventurers
| Character | Race | Class | Description |
|---|---|---|---|
| Alaric | Human | Paladin level 3 | Big, doe eyed country boy with wavy blond hair and willingness to do the right thing. Paladin of Tyr. |
| Ambros | Human | Cleric level 7 | Follower of Aniu, Lord of Time. |
| Beorg the Gravedigger | Human | Fighter level 5 | Inspired to adventure after burying several adventurers. |
| Drokh | Human | Monk level 2 | A tall, lean human monk with piercing eyes, weathered skin, and a warrior’s poise—calm and charismatic, he speaks with purpose and strikes with precision, wielding spear, bow, and blade. |
| Heinrik | Human | Magic-user level 1 | Muscular mage with short blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. |
| Ignaeus | Elf | Fighter level 4 / magic-user level 5 | An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone. |
| Jacob Vin | Human | Assassin level 3 | Slick black hair, inconspicuous dress, youthful for his age, and of keen instincts. |
| Kenso San | Human | Fighter level 2 | An arrogant and self-assured sellsword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone. |
| Kho Rimbo | Human | Magic-user level 3 | A knife throwing wizard extraordinaire. Covered in ritual knife scars. Cuts himself whilst casting. Prone to being sarcastic. |
| Minako Konishi | Human | Monk level 3 | Pretty Karakan with grace of a panther and shrewdness of a fox. Silk sash holds here loose trousers in place, while loose jacket rounds up her exotic look. |
| Syd Grundy | Human | Fighter level 3 | Tall, middle aged and scruffy looking man of the wilderness. |
| Tam o' Shanter | Human | Cleric level 4 | A boisterous wine-lover of Losborst on a Great Crusade of the Grape. |
| Tarkus the Promising | Human | Cleric level 5 | Follower of Bachontoi, God of Red Wisdom. |
| Thorinda Bung | Human | Monk level 3 | She has blonde hair done up in a tight pony tail and wears light, loose suit. |
| Thorm | Dwarf | Dighter level 2 / thief level 3 | Ashen hair, beard, and eyes. Left his own clan due to financial trouble. |
| Tosk | Human | Fighter level 1 | Extremely large muscular man with pot belly; cagey about his intentions and past; seeking fortune. |
| Warmund Abendeurer | Human | Fighter level 1 | A burly blonde barbarian; Wilbalt's older brother and the stronger of the two. |
| Wilbalt Abendeurer | Human | Fighter level 2 | A burly blonde barbarian; Warmund's younger brother and a better swordsman of the two. |
Gloomfrost 3rd to 15th
Last month of the year. Winter. A warm one, as it usually is the Barbarian Altanis. Ironburg was buzzing with activity. Sig, newly appointed baron by the Wizard-King Racoba, and his men were building many new houses. They've already built wooden palisades and three wooden towers.
Adventurers had something else on their mind—what should they do next? Their town house would soon be completed. But Ambros was Sig's captive, awaiting his trial. Delves into Castle Yukanthur got increasingly dangerous, with most recent expedition resulting with many badly wounded.
And so the adventurers discussed and argued for weeks. Ambros has had it with being High Priest of Forseti, with all the politicking and backstabbing and rigmaroles. Ignaeus was eager to adventure. Kenso, and Tam were all for smacking monsters. Kho Rimbo drooled. Muscle bros dreamt even bigger: hire mercenaries to smack even more monsters. Hire even more mercenaries and go smack Racoba!
Syd and Thorinda argued for finding new lairs and ruins to raid. Yukanthur has worn them thin. Little did they know what horrid future awaits them. Jacob wondered if he was naught but figment of Kho Rimbo's imagination. Beorg wished for visiting more graveyards. He missed playing with the undead. Tarkus was eager to bestow his awesome wisdom upon both dungeon delvers and pesky politicians.
Finally, Tosk found Racoba attractive. He refused to elaborate.
Adventurers agreed on two main objectives: rescue Ambros, and defeat Racoba. They were split on third objective: escape the kingdom of Hara.
Thus, Ambros went to visit Old Crus, the most powerful person he knew. Heinrik, whom was still serving the old Wizard, made the meeting possible.
“Oh wise Crus, I come to humbly request your help. I would end this war with Racoba, preferably with each of us going our separate ways. If that is not possible, I seek your intervention to bring this to a conclusion favorable to my party of adventurers, I will commit to what you require of me to achieve this, short of pursuing conflict with Racoba. Thank you for considering this.”
Old Crus listened. He sat, motionless, for so long, unblinking, just staring at Ambros. Heinrik, having now spent many months with Crus, has seen the ancient man do this whenever he sunk into deep thought..
Suddenly, Crus leaned back, as if surprised, and then looked at Ambros.
“I need to think about it. Heinrik will fetch you when I have an answer.”
Nine days later, Old Crus instructed Heinrik to bring Ambros over.
“You want to live, but do not want to fight. Racoba needs to revel in your utmost defeat. Then he maybe lets you live. Therefore you need to be pathetic, lame, and mendicant. Ambros, bring me your gavel, your signet ring; and everything else that communicates your old status. Strip yourself of regalia, of ceremonial armour and armaments; of any wealth. You have until end of the day.”
It took him an hour to communicate this to Ambros, a mixture of Crus speaking slowly and taking dramatic breaks.
Then he instructed Heinrik “Heinrik, fetch Sig. Bring him here. Then pack everything Ambros gives you into crates. Wait for me in Ironburg.”
Ambros reverently placed the Gavel of Justice and his signet ring, along with his chain of office into a box and gave it to Heinrik. He wore his plain clerical attire, as he has never been an ostentatious man. He bent his head in prayer to Aniu. He then thanked Forseti in his prayer for the times past but expressed his desire to return to his roots.
Around noon Sig accompanied Heinrik to Crus. He went alone despite protestations from Ironwill and supplications from Lamprecht and Daltz. Heinrik dropped him off and returned to Ironburg to pack items Ambros handed him over.
Sig returned to Ironburg after nightfall. He ordered his men to prepare a boat, a coaster, and to load up crates Heinrik had prepared. The he informed him that Crus demands his immediate help.
“We are going to Hara at midnight. Old Crus requires your assistance to pack and and travel to Ironburg. I offered to send some of my men but he refused and asked specifically for you. Take one of our horses and have the old man mount it, otherwise I fear his bones and muscles won't survive the trip.”
“Where have you been?” Old Crus croaked as Heinrik entered the tower “I have been waiting for all eternity for you! What are all these muscles for if you can't walk faster? Move, move...”
Crus was dressed in a silk crimson robe. Embroidered arcane symbols lined along the sleeves, connecting in a star shaped knot between the shoulder blades. From it three more lines run downwards, all the way to the bottom of the robe. There they join a line running the whole circumference of the garment. Symbols are golden and much firmer than silk; yet they bend and flow effortlessly.
A huge pointy hat, half of the man wearing it, adorned his head. The rim was extensive, throwing shade on him. He was leaning against his old, gnarly, staff.
“Come, come!” he waved at Heinrik impatiently “Come closer. The bag, grab it. And the scrolls on the table.” Indeed, three identical, rolled-up scrolls, rested on the table. All were parchment, tightly bound by silk cords.
“Listen carefully, now. These are all for emergencies. One is cursed, and will explode upon reading. One will make you, and everyone withing 10 feet invisible. And the last one should be only read if you return here without me.”
This was the fastest Heinrik had heard Old Crus speak since he met him. It was not like he was chattering at high speed—no, he was speaking like an average man would—but it was rather that Heinrik had heard him speak so slowly for so long that this stood out.
“Come on. Let's go. Oh the youth!”
“Uh, which scroll does what?” Heinrik inquired scratching his head.
Old Crus looked at him intensely. His thick uni-brow formed a very expressive W-shape. Then he shambled over to the table and unfurled the leftmost scroll, and read through it.
“Well, this one is not explosive, is it?!” he rolled it up and threw it at Heinrik.
Then he grabbed the scroll to the right, ripped the silk ribbon off, and threw it to the side.
The scroll begun to unroll without any force applied to it.
Crus looked to the side, rolled it back, and squeezed it tight. Then he tied it with greasy pieces of rope lying on the table.
“Here, this is the explosive one. Catch!” he threw that one at Heinrik too. “Any other questions??? Can we go now???”
“Of course.” Heinrik replied quietly.
Crus spent rest of the time bitching and complaining about leaving his tower for the first time in the last decade.
It took Heinrik a long time to get Crus on that horse. In the process he got exposed to the wizard's shriveled manhood more than once. But he managed to mount him, somehow. His leather sack was not particularly heavy nor large.
Once at Ironburg they easily located Sig by the coaster. He was surrounded by a group of people in a loud argument.
“Are you fucking stupid? I know you are not, but you are acting fucking stupid.” a slender woman was yelling at Sig.
“Come on Bertha, lay off of him.” Vimaro, the flamboyant vicar of Mitra, nearly as large as Sig, waved his hands around dramatically “You know that look. He has made up his mind.”
Heinrik was too far away to hear Sig's reply, but it caused Vimaro to giggle, Bertha to scowl even more, and Ironwill to exhale.
Then Sig burst out laughing “If this is an ambush, then the only question is whose neck will I snap first! Have no fear my friends! Look!” and he pointed at Heinrik and Crus “Here they come. Now, stop whining and wish us farewell.”
Sig was dressed in plain clothes.
“Heinrik, is it not? I heard you are strong, yes? That's good, because you and I will row to Hara. Get in!”
Getting Crus off the horse was as much work as getting him on. He miraculously survived that without any significant injury. Then he sat in the boat, exhausted.
“Wake me up when we–” and Crus fell asleep before finishing the sentence.
“Grab the oar and get to it.” Sig sat on one side of the bench, tapping the other side for Heinrik to join him.
Howla and Vannis were reflecting off the mighty river Farhills, illuminating their path. Within moments they left Ironburg behind, and were surrounded with nothing but sounds of wildlife echoing through the air.
“We have hours of rowing ahead. Why not tell me more about yourself, Heinrik?”
Poster by Lord Jubalon Flux.
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