D&D: Elderyn – Act 2: Session 7


Unfortunatly, I got distracted with posting the remainder of these game logs. These logs are being written many months after the fact, using old notes made during the game as well as my notes for the sessions and my good, old fashioned memory (which is not nearly as good as it used to be). As such, they may be short on detail as well as length, but I’d like to get them all down for reference as best I can. As such, I ask you to bear with me. Where I can and where appropriate, I will elaborate the fiction a little bit. It may not be “exactly” what happened, but it will be in the “spirit” of the events.

Waking early the next morning and eager to head out, the party continued along the road to the east. Along the way sporadic trails of blood, bodies taken and cast aside on the road and discarded loot was scattered on their trail, indicating they were still heading the right way. A short ways into the morning, in the shade of a small tree, they spot a body that still shows signs of life and movement. As they approach though, they realize that it is not one of the villagers, but an injured goblin.

“Stay away, stupid humanziz!” it sputters at them.

It doesn’t take much effort to subdue the goblin, obviously left behind when he could no longer keep up with the pack. Stepping onto the goblin’s wounded leg, Clotor asks where the rest of his kind went and who was with them. The goblin curses and screams, letting slip a curse at “the stupid hobby goblinz” who left him there. Finally, ponting off the road not far, the goblin splutters that the remainder of the army proceeded off the road into the forests with their prisoners. He also mentions that the “dirty humanz” who hired them for the attack continued east along the road.

Clotor immediately turns her attention from the Goblin, moving up the path to investage and track the army, leaving the goblin to his fate with the rest of the party.

Venturing up the path, expecting a long day of travel, the party was suprised when they came upon the goblin camp, still setup. It didn’t take them long to determine that most of the goblins lay dead in their beds. A few scattered bodies seem to have made a run from their sleeping rolls, but bear vicious slashes or long, black arrows protruding from their bodies. No where are there any signs of the prisoners the goblins had suppossedly taken.

Pausing in her place, Nedda holds up a hand to silence the rest of the party. On the wind she makes out some gutteral sounds coming from a short ways away. Sneaking through the bushes, she continues out the other side of the goblin camp to find another clearing a short ways futher. In a second camp, a small hobgoblin war party is picking up the remains of their camp. A few of the stocky creatures prod and kick at a half dozen humans who are tied and gagged, dragging them up one by one and then driving long, wicked knives into the prisoners guts.

The others in the party push up next to her, but as Clotor catches sight of the dead and abused prisoners, she lets lose a fearsome war cry and charges forward with weapons held high. The hobgolbins whirl with wild grunts, obviously caught by surprise, but quickly leaping into action. Clotor clashed with the first hobgoblin, nearly felling it in a single, powerful attack. Scourage followed close behind as one of the Hobgoblins began chanting, lashing out with a spell which grabbed hold of the Dragon born and pulled her into the midst of the war party. Surrounded on all sides, Clotor lashed out whilst her party tried to make their way to her.

As the Hobgoblin Warpriest readied another spell, he let out a pain filld snarl. Nedda appeared behind him, daggers flashing as she drove them deep into his unprotected flank. From the center of the warparty, Clotor’s newly claimed sword let forth a flash as its power became apparrent. Lightning trailed the blade as the Dragonborne swung it towards each attacker. Finally, she drove the longsword deep into a hobgoblin’s shoulder and a burst of lightning lept from the blade, shocking the wounded hobgoblin and then leaping from enemy to enemy in a burst of energy.

Several hobgoblins armed with bows trade attacks with Harold’s spells across the battlefield. Scourage peels away from the main pack as it becomes clear that Clotor is able to hold her own and closes with the archers, taking several arrows before he is able to engage them. The warpriest turns on Nedda, but exposes his back to Clotor who slashes into him with her sword, deflecting several other attacks with her shield.

Between Harold and Scourage’s combined attacks, the last of the hobgoblin archers finally fell. The Tiefling, chuckling to himself, turned back to the main group just in time for one of the hobgoblins to back hand him with a shield, knocking him flat. As the creature loomed over him, ready to go for the killing blow, Harold let loose with a powerful magic blast that shredded the last of the hobgoblin’s life.

Seeing her companion fall, Clotor let loose with a vengeful roar, turning her head and belching a blast of acid which enveloped three hobgoblins. The creatures fell to the ground, crying out in gutteral moans as the acid burned through their flesh. In a few more flashes of steel, the last was cut down and the clearing echoed in silence.

Wiping her blade, Clotor sheathed he blade and moved towards the bound prisoners, who wimpred quietly in fear. Nedda moved to help the dragonborne while Harold and Scourage scoured the dead hobgoblins. Among the prisoners who still lived, Clotor found Thoros, the farmer representitive from the village council. Once he had been calmed, Thoros expressed his gratitude to the party for rescuing himself and the few other survivors, but was saddened at the news that Father Opdrop and Udion had been killed, along with so many others of the village.

Besides recounting their journey and the hobgoblins’ betrayal of the goblins in the middle of the night, Thoros is not able to add much to the story. Among the dead villagers, Nedda discovers the body of Marnan, the guide who had helped them only days earlier. From the dead hobgoblins, Harold picks up a piece of armor and calls the group’s attention.

Seal of EberekHolding up the piece of armor, the mage indicates the ruby emblam emblazed on the forearm guard. “This is the mark of Eberek Citadel, the dwarven fortress along the eastern coast. There’s about half a dozen pieces with their mark. Not a complete set on any one of these guys. It’s hard to tell if they were given the armor or if they took it from someone. Either way, it might be a place to start.”

Striding over to the deceased leader of the war party, Clotor reached down and pulled the horned, metal helmet from the hobgoblin’s head. Placing the helmet on her own head, she faced the rest of the party resolutely. “Then we travel to Eberek. We find the ones who killed Father Opdrop.”


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