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thatdarncat
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« on: November 18, 2008, 08:37:11 PM » |
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My pardon if this tale grows less merry now but you will shortly know the reason.
Searching finds nothing else odd or of value about the kobolds, so we press on, following their tracks.
Stealthy tho they may be, they leave great tracks and we follow them until the sharper eyed of us can see kobolds moving through the trees. They seem to be moving around a circle of glowing blue runes at the base of a waterfall. We form a line, looking quite professional - we may appear at times sloppy, but when we're angry or everything comes together we show why we're to be feared. The thunder of the waterfall masks the sound of our approach until almost the last minute - the kobolds have time for one volley of javelins from cover within the tree line then we're amongst them.
The dwarf and I hit their left flank, anchoring either end of the line while the rest of the party slams into the kobolds. We work together, supporting each other, using the trees for cover against kobold javelins until we break through the trees. The kobolds want to stand in the circle of runes and it seems to aid their blows some but it doesn't matter. We avoid the circle ourselves (paranoid? of strange magic? us?) and kill them almost to a one - only the lone slinger escapes, fleeing into a cave behind the waterfall. His cry of "must warn Ironfang" trails behind him - a warning to us? A justification for fleeing? An apology to his clutch-mates for leaving them die beneath our blades? We don't know or care.
We catch our breath then follow the survivor into the cave, hoping to catch him unawares. Taking the halfling with me I lead the way - into a large cave swarming with kobold warriors lead by one of their foul priests. The halfling and I fight off the first wave and the rest of the party rushes to our aid when they hear the sound of battle. We're hard pressed, pinned in the mouth of the cave with kobold warriors in front of us and the slippery treacherous rocks at the base of the waterfall behind. Slowly we make progress, working our way in, but the arrival of armored kobold warriors in fierce dragon masks heralds a gigantic (in that he comes to my waist, instead of my knees) kobold who can only be "Ironfang" forewarned of our intrusion into his home and ready to slay us.
And this is where the battle falls apart for us.
I rush to intercept the gigantic kobold, fearing what he will do if left alone to attack where he will. I pin him between myself and the dwarf, unable to move beyond us. Of course, he isn't dismayed by this. While the dwarf continues to focus on a lone wounded kobold, the greater threat turns and hews him horizontal, horded healing unused. Left alone against this titan of kobolds, I swiftly follow. Stupid dwarf. My companions mount a furious defense, forcing Ironfang out of the cave. They bringing me back from death's door, but before I can even regain my feet Ironfang crashes back through the waterfall and his axe splits my head.
I will not speak now of where I went, what I saw in any detail. I recall wine and rest, but a sense that the rest was only for a short while - the pause granted to a warrior to regain his breath before charging back into battle.
Instead I will speak of the actions of my comrades, for I would not be telling this story without them.
Keeri, who braved the attacks of kobolds to close and blast them. The halfling who fought alone against the priest and slew him in the caves to which he fled then returned to the main battle in time to help fell Ironfang. The other rogue who slew so many. A warlord who stood and inspired them all to greatness. Baal, who stepped up to the challenge and stood his ground against Ironfang, buying the company the time they needed to stop this foe who'd already done the party such grevious hurt. He fell in this deed but in the moment of his being laid low, Ironfang was struck down as well.
The dwarf was brought back from deaths' door, Baal returned swiftly there after, but alas it was too late for me. My body was still and cold.
Sorrowfully the party looted the cave and discovered riches therein, then returned to town bearing my body in triumph but sadness. Someone, none will say who, suggested that perhaps with their hard fought for riches they might be able to convince the town priest to return me to life. Some or all - again, they will not say - convinced the priest to do so in exchange for most of the wealth my death had bought them.
And so I was pulled from rest back into this world, reborn in a way. I woke in a poor temple, furnished with rags. I lay upon nothing grander than what might have been a kitchen table in the poorest of homes. And yet I know my life is not in vain. We have fought evil that laid some of us out on the hard, cold stone. We have ended a threat to this town. There are still mysteries here, there is still adventure to be had. Perhaps there will be good times and merriment again, but I know that I will always remember that time beyond deaths' door and it will shadow every step I take from now until I pass through the door again.
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