Grasp of the Silver Hand

Goblin kings and acid baths

Shortly after their pony-filled adventure, three of our heroes awoke from a night of binging and camping to discover that their bard and barbarian had gone missing. In their place was a friendly, if clumsy, young chap named Fumbles. Also he was part llama or something because he had stupid little clippy clop hooves. The newly rearranged party set out in search of their mvp and that guy who makes up songs on the spot.

As nightfall approached, their journey brought them to a small outcropping in the mountainous region to the south. They found an entrance covered in a thick moss draping and decided to scope the area out. No sooner had brave Slagathor raised his axe for a good round of moss slaying then the party was assailed from the entrance by two drunken goblins. Yeah, didn’t go well for the goblins.

The insides of the cave revealed what appeared to be an long-abandoned fortress of some kind. The team experienced room after room of widely varied encounters that seemed almost tailor-designed to acclimatize new adventurers. They found loot, grabbed a flaming ruby, mashed a giant spider, and Fumbles even slayed a large water beast! (Nobody saw it though, so it didn’t count.)

Most notable of discoveries was a beautifully crafted wooden dragon toy. Slagathor Doublekilt took the prize as his own and promised to love it forever and ever. It almost relieved the pain of the crafty wizard Nebakathmandu permanently etching another slur against his dwarven mother into the dungeon walls. Like all great tales of love, however, this was destined to end in tragedy. The party found themselves in the lair of a cretinous creature referring to himself as the goblin king. Derrick (who is also a cleric) managed to use his ample charm to entreat with the goblin king, avoiding an uncomfortable fracas. Unfortunately, King Juicylips demanded a payment of that recently found and greatly prized possession, the dragon toy. Through much cajoling, and becoming completely surrounded by goblins, the party managed to convinced Slagathor Doublekilt to release the only thing he had ever loved (other than his kindly mother, his war-axe, walks on the beach, and sweet mind-erasing ale.)

After securing passage (and Slagathor’s eternal enmity,) our heroes scaled a high wall using a found levitation potion and found themselves in a crypt area that had been put there for some reason. Suddenly a skeleton popped out! Three, to be exact. Derrick (cleric, remember?) recognized that his time to shine had finally come and grasped his holy symbol, shouting a prayer to his stupid flashlight goddess or whatever. The skeletons popped worse than a set of arthritic knuckles and the room was redecorated in a bony new ambiance.

At the bottom of a stairwell, the party finally discovered the great wyrm they’d kept receiving not-so-subtle hints about. The goblin king had even told them to aim for the belly, thanks goblin king! Through scent and powerful deduction skills, the black dragon identified the party as being responsible for the death of her son (oops). With a single spewing of her acidic breath, the entire party collapsed in a useless heap save for Slagathor, bringer of pain (who was already rolling around on the floor moaning the long forgotten loss of his mothers virginity). Shouting an ancient dwarven battle-cry, he leapt upon the overgrown lizard and swung a mighty blow with a dragonbone sword discovered during the adventure. It didn’t do any damage. It did, however, sufficiently amuse mama dragon enough to leave the party for the meantime and set her sights on what she assumed was their hometown. Throughout the night, the screams of the kindly folks of A Town rang through the countryside as their city burned, causing them to rekindle the ashes into B Town (again, oops).

Slaggy did manage to find the bard Laris, who had apparently taken a tumble into the dragon den. Laris quickly composed a song about the party’s horrific chemical burns, which they would have greatly enjoyed if they were conscious. He and Slaggy hauled the barely living carcasses of their comrades out of the dungeon for healing. They vowed to continue the search for their best team member and also to never talk to dragons.

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General Log talk

I’m still trying to monkey with obsidian to ensure maximum funs. Do we want to use a post in adventure log to comment on to have any general conversation? I like this site, but its definitely lacking in some areas.

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The story so far! Or how I learned to stop worrying and love Slagathor's mother.

And so it came to pass that three adventurers found themselves in the city of Rafflestultz for the holiday of Festivius. Derrick (the Cleric), Slagathor Doublekilt, and Lilly Hammer. They came for their own reasons (all of which involved the much-harrowed sport of greco-Dwarven wrestling), but all came together at the behest of great riches when the Baron’s son was kidnapped mid-grapple by a mysterious group identified only by the emblem of a silver hand hung around their necks. After some sewage spelunking, the permanent mental scarring of an elven farm-maid, untold amounts of slaughter, and a near-fatal encounter with a feral boar (whose name was Gus, by the way) our stalwart heroes returned the boy safely to his father and reaped the sweet sweet rewards. A mysterious note was found bearing the silver hand emblem and was handed over to city scholars for decoding.

Mere days later, a chance encounter with (and subsequent annihilation of) a hungry thief revealed a cryptic treasure map. The scroll spoke of ponies and a rather unpleasant group of thieves we won’t be discussing in polite company. Our heroes were joined in their venture by a ceremonious wizard named Nebucharonius and a banjo-shredding bard named Laris. Hopes of treasure and a good heaping of boredom led the merry band to the city of A Town (the A is for A-hole because seriously screw those guards), which had shutdown all entry due to a series of attacks by a winged monster. Further map-trekking placed our group in a whimsical encounter with a musical pinata beast that seemed to positively glow with the power of friendship. After subduing (and hogtying) the equine abomination, they discovered a door in a nearby false tree and stepped into shadow. Inside, our heroes grappled with long-repressed father issues and eventually a young black dragon, who was apparently the source of all the A-town chicanery. A terminal velocity battle ensued, terminating in the extreme termination of said dragon by way of a massive barbarian battleaxe (not named Terminator, unfortunately.) With the A Town guards still acting like jerks, our heroes took the rare spoils from the corpse of the pony pinata and headed out in search of their next source of booze-money.

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