by Diana Brown
The Inquisitor leads you into the heart of the Cathedral, where the Grand Hierophant of Therin himself awaits you.
A column of priestesses flanked the carpet leading to the dais from which the Grand Hierophant presided. The Inquisitor stepped to his customary place near the bottom of the stairs, clearly ready to leap to the Hierophant’s side if needed.
The Hierophant’s rich robes were the colors of Therin’s cleansing Light, and he wore the sunburst amulet borne by all of Therin’s clerics. His staff of office was crowned with a warm amber gem, which reflected the sunlight in ways Daphne had never seen before.
“Our goddess thanks you for meeting us ere you continue your journey,” the Hierophant droned in greeting.
“It is our honor, Your Grace.” Daphne was truly humbled to be in the presence of the Grand Hierophant of the Goddess of Light.
Luster’s eyes locked on the warm light of the gem atop the Hierophant’s staff.
“What is that” Gary asked covetously.
“The Heart of Therin. Legend says the gem is composed of solid light.”
“Could I steal it?” Gary wondered aloud.
“Well, considering that it’s one of the holiest symbols of the church, and the cathedral is swarming with paladins, that would most likely be suicide. Go right ahead.” At that moment, Lodge really wished he would.
“What is that heavenly music?” Flynn asked in a distracted tone of voice as he listened, enrapt.
“The Hymn to Therin,” the priestess replied. “It calls to our goddess.”
The priestess’s voice brought Flynn back to the moment. He eyed her appraisingly.
“I seduce the priestess”
“She’s taken a vow of celibacy!”
“Dude, twenty ranks in seduction!”
“Hey baby,” Flynn oozed to the priestess. “Wanna tune my mandolin?”
Daphne was certain she heard the distant sound of dice rolling as the Priestess took Flynn by the hand and fled the room.
Sighing, Daphne addressed the Hierophant. “Please understand, the horny bard does not represent us.” Well, maybe him…er, her… she thought, eyeing Luster out of the corner of her eye.
The Hierophant stepped down from the dais, handing his scepter to the Inquisitor.
“There are those who say that Therin has abandoned us in this dark time. Rest assured, she watches us always.”
Flynn returned, and he and Luster shared a high five over Daphne’s head. Daphne took careful note of how quickly Flynn always seemed to return from these encounters, and came to her own conclusions about Leo’s sex life.
“Nevertheless,” the Hierophant continued, “we shall send two of our own order to ensure your safety.”
A paladin and a monk entered the room and stood before the Hierophant, facing the party. The paladin stood with his head bowed, his face buried behind a cascade of blonde hair that Buffy would have envied. Beside him stood a monk in saffron robes, with oddly pointed ears.
“Brother Silence,” The Hierophant introduced the monk. “A most stubborn monk… who is NOT an elf!” Silence was anything but silent as the Hierophant tore his pointed ear-tips off. Daphne, Flynn, and Luster stifled laughter as Silence rubbed his ears in pain.
“And,” continued the Hierophant, “Sir Osric the Chaste, our most noble paladin.” Osric lifted his head, holding his blond mane aside to reveal his face. Daphne showed surprise, the other party members only annoyance.
* * * *
“Oh, great,” Leo moaned, “a babysitter.” So that’s what Lodge had meant when he said he had it covered.
“What?” Gary cried in outrage. A Game Master player character?!
“You have got to be kidding me,” Cass added. The little control freak is going to make sure we don’t have any fun.
“Lodge,” Leo spoke for all of them. “You are such a douche.”
* * * *
Daphne waved happily at Osric as the Hierophant continued. “Sir Osric will assure that you shall never stray from the paths of goodness and law.”
Chapter 7: Meditating At The Temple Of The Moon
You strike out for the mountains. The road winds higher through the foothills, and after a day you have reached the foot of the pass. At the edge of a thick forest, a sign catches your eye.
The party had fallen into a steady routine, the agile Silence leading the way, followed by the beautiful warrior, then the audacious bard. This left Osric trailing the troublesome mage. Osric had immense concerns about him – her. He had not been made more comfortable by the discovery that the mage’s weathered footwear consisted of booty boots pilfered from the body of a murdered farmer.
It was late in the day, and thus far, their journey had been uneventful. By nightfall, Osric calculated, they should reach Mudhollow. Tall pines flanked a trail that ran between sheer slopes. Two signs guarded the trailhead. The first read “Westhaven” – their ultimate destination - and pointed along the trail. The other read “Beewair thu Goblins.”
The group surveyed the signs, and wordlessly agreed – they would proceed, but cautiously, expecting the sort of ambush the cowardly green creatures favored.
After a few hours, you come to a clearing in the pass. In the middle stands a twisted goblin totem.
The heroes stared at the twisted wooden sculpture. Its base was ringed with human skeletons, seated with their spines against the totem. Bright yellow flowers surrounded the clearing, but stopped suddenly some distance away, leaving a wide clear space around the vile symbol.
“Perhaps we could…sneak around…?” Daphne suggested uncertainly.
“Not a chance,” Luster opined. “It’s a trap.”
“Not nece…” Osric began. He stopped suddenly, glancing at the fair warrior maid, and began again in a deeper and more…reassuring… voice. “Not necessarily.”
“It’s always a trap,” the bard declared decisively.
Brother Silence removed the prayer beads from his neck and wrapped them around his wrist.
Cass paused for a moment, trying to decide how he wanted Silence to sound. He finally settled on what he figured was a cross between Kwai Chang Caine and that guy who narrates the true crime shows.
“Doubtless, the goblins are merely waiting for an excuse.”
Daphne and Osric glanced around anxiously. The woods appeared empty. The guys chuckled as Flynn splattered a tomato against the totem.
“What are you doing?” Osric demanded. Hey, wait…“Where did you get that tomato?”
“Hello,” Flynn replied, “I’m a bard!” Duh.
Silence karate-chopped a bit of wood off the carved totem. “I got your gob-dong!” he exulted. On closer examination, it appeared to be a misshapen goblinoid nose. Well – that was disappointing.
Osric was uneasy. Goblins or no, this was a religious symbol. “Is this wise?” he asked.
Daphne was a bit more direct. “Are you trying to kill us?” she asked accusingly.
“You know,” Luster addressed Silence, “I believe that is a totem to a Goblin god.”
“Really? What kind of god?”
“A god of the moon, I believe.”
“A god of the moon, you say…”
“Indeed, I do.”
“Well,” Silence inquired. “How do you worship a god of the moon?”
“Ah…With my cute little tuschie!” Daphne and Osric cringed as Luster mooned the totem. “An offering!” Luster cried, farting loudly.
The Goblin Queen burst forth out of the bushes, raising a barbed horn to her lips and blowing a long, low note. Dozens of goblins poured into the clearing from the trees, surrounding the heroes. They brandished spears and bows as the Goblin Queen raised her scepter and waved it menacingly.
“They’re so angry!” Daphne observed fearfully.
“I wonder why,” Osric observed wryly, twirling his favorite sword. “We only farted on god.”
Daphne was reassured to find that Osric agreed with her.
Perhaps she didn’t look like a total amateur.
“Perhaps we can negotiate!” Daphne cried hopefully, with a friendly wave at the goblins. They didn’t seem very responsive. She and Osric turned until their backs rested lightly against each other. Silence and Luster stood back to back nearby.
“Don’t worry,” Flynn reassured them, confidently taking his mandolin in hand as he stepped between the two pairs of wary combatants. He patted Daphne’s shoulder reassuringly as he passed. “I got it. I’ll totally pacify them with bardic music.” Flynn began to play, singing “Dear goblin friends, dear goblin friends, please hear my song…”
A row of goblins, hearing his song, let loose a flight of arrows. Flynn’s chest erupted in feathered shafts as he fell to the ground.
The goblins cheer sounded, to Daphne’s ears, suspiciously like a warped version of several people squealing “wheeee!” in high-pitched voices…
* * * *
Lodge rolled dice behind the Game Master’s screen. “Yeah…. Yeah, you’re dead.”
Gary produced a stopwatch that Joanna hadn’t noticed before. “29 minutes, 42 seconds. A new personal best Leo!”
Leo glared back at him. “There are so many places I could stick that stopwatch.”
“All right, everybody,” Lodge intervened. “Roll inish.”
Joanna looked around questioningly as the guys all rolled dice. Cass sighed deeply, noticing Joanna’s confusion. “Initiative,” he explained.
“Oh, right! To see who goes first.” Joanna remembered reading about this. “I roll one of these dealies,” she said, picking up a 20-sided die, “and add my Dex bonus plus four.”
“No, just your dex bonus,” Cass corrected.
“No, I also get a +4.” Joanna turned to Lodge. “That’s what improved initiative does, right?”
“Who takes improved initiative?” Cass asked, bewildered.
* * * *
The Goblin Queen shook her scepter at the heroes, then charged.
Lodge declared the combat order. “OK, order: Joanna, Cass, Gary, Osric, then goblins.”
“What about me?” Leo asked.
“You’re dead.” Oh, yeah…
“OK…” Joanna said, trying to remember the combat rules. They had been very complex…”So, I take one of these, and add my attack bonus and…”
Daphne smacked the nearest goblin with her spear. It collapsed into a heap at her feet. Daphne waited for a moment, then looked around expectantly.
“You get another attack,” Lodge explained.
“I do?” Wait, everyone was waiting for her?
“You... you took First Strike. When you go first, and drop an opponent, you immediately get another attack.”
“Cool!” Joanna rolled her next attack.
Daphne whacked another goblin, dropping it in its tracks.
“Critical! I get another attack!”
Daphne skewered and dropped another goblin. She was shaking happily with victory, tempted to jump up and down with glee. She glanced over her shoulder to cast Osric an elated smile.
* * * *
The guys stared at Joanna in surprise. Leo’s mouth was hanging open in a wide ‘O,’ but it was the look of consternation on Cass’s face that Joanna found most satisfying. She suddenly realized that they had all agreed with Cass – they thought she would die the minute they got into a fight. She explained, with more delight than was probably absolutely necessary…
“Expanded critical, critical momentum, and precise strike. Y’see, I add my Int and Dex bonuses to my crit range, and I get an extra attack every time I land a critical hit.”
“What’s your critical range?” Gary asked.
Joanna checked her character sheet. “Let’s see... 13 to 20. Without bonuses.”
“Holy crappin’ Christ!”
Joanna rolled again.
* * * *
“Critical!”
Another goblin dropped. Daphne wheeled around to face the next foe.
“Critical.”
Another dead goblin.
“Five foot step. Critical.”
Daphne destroyed every goblin within reach, skewering the last three into a gob-kebab. As she pushed the trio off her spear, she idly noticed that the one in the middle had a tri-hawk. Don’t see that every day, she thought to herself. Daphne paused and looked around. There were no more enemies within reach.
“Cass, you’re up.”
Silence executed an impressive looking spinning, flying kick, breaking the neck of the goblin in front of him. Silence looked pleased for a moment, then surveyed the overall damage and looked decidedly unimpressed with his contribution.
“Gary?”
“Lightning bolt.”
Blue-white electricity fluttered around Luster’s hands.
“That’ll go off in two rounds.”
“What?! Why?”
“Wild magic, sexball.”
Osric leaned over Flynn, touching him with the carved wooden staff.
“Flynn pulls a Lazarus.”
Flynn stood up and dusted himself off, the arrow shafts miraculously removed from his chest and leaving no holes in his tunic.
“And... goblins”
The row of goblins fired at Flynn once again. Flynn caught the volley of arrows in the chest and collapsed, dead again. Several of the goblins took a simultaneous five-foot step to surround Daphne.
“The goblins surround Daphne. Joanna?”
“Hold my action.”
“Cass?”
“Move to assist Daphne. Twice.”
Silence sprang acrobatically across the clearing to Daphne’s side. Daphne idly wondered whether all the rolling and jumping about helped in some way…
“I am here to protect you.” Silence sounded less like Kwai Chang Caine than Luke Skywalker. Daphne fished in her memory for the correct response.
“My hero,” she answered. He should have remembered that Princess Leia was perfectly capable of protecting herself.
Silence rolled out of the way as she whacked him lightly on the shoulder with the butt of her spear, avoiding most of the force of the blow. Hm, she thought. I guess the rolling does help. Daphne dropped the remaining goblins with a series of very elaborate attacks, leaving only the Goblin Queen standing.
“Now?”
“No, Gary.”
Daphne slew the Goblin Queen with a magnificent flourish. Osric touched Flynn with the staff once again as Daphne began to celebrate.
“Osric uses the staff on Flynn.”
“Sing it” Daphne rejoiced. “Give it to me, give it up! Oh – you can’t cause y’all dead. That’s right! She turned to Silence. “That is who takes improved initiative – wwwwwaaaaaaAH!”
“Yeah... but …can you tumble?” Silence retorted weakly.
“And… your spell goes off,” Lodge informed Gary.
Luster’s lightning bolt sped off in the general direction of where Flynn and Osric were standing.
“Crap!” the mage barked, gesturing madly to his lightning bolt, trying to move it to one side by force of will.
“Move” Luster mouthed toward Flynn, who turned around just in time to catch the lightning bolt full in the face.
The remaining heroes stared down at Flynn’s smoking body.
Well. That was unfortunate, Luster mused. After what he figured was an appropriately respectful interval, he asked the question that was really on his mind.
“So – how much experience do I get for the bard?”
Daphne and Osric stared at him with distaste.
Too soon, I guess.
Chapter 8: Mudhollow Inne
After the battle in Goblin’s Pass, you resurrect Flynn yet again and press through the mountains. Night has fallen by the time you reach the tiny village on the other side of the range.
A tiny inn squatted in the mud. In front of it, a sign read “Mudhollow Inne.” The party, weary with travel and combat, stumbled inside and sat gratefully at a table in the common ro
om. Brother Silence seized a wooden spoon from a shelf as he passed.
The group sat down at a long, low table. Some scanned the room, taking stock of their surroundings. Others rested gratefully, oblivious to anything but their own weariness. Silence sat staring at his spoon, using it as a focus to help him meditate upon the nature of Truth.
A plump, busty barmaid delivered mismatched steins of ale to the table. She served the ladies first, then walked around to the other end of the table to serve the men, stopping next to Flynn.
“And sirs… good beer,” she mumbled as she set the mugs in front of them.
“Is the barmaid hot?”
Lodge rolled a die. “Yeah. Must you?”
“Yeah, I must.”
Flynn whispered confidently in the barmaid’s ear.
Leo rolled a die.
The barmaid giggled, nodded enthusiastically, and led Flynn by the hand to the stairway. As they disappeared to the floor above, Luster looked around and spied a second barmaid.
“I wanna seduce her next.”
“Hey, baby,” he crooned. “My spells require somatic components.”
“Dude, you’re a chick.”
“Oh! Right. How embarrassing.” And…. She was. A chick. Daphne found Luster’s continual gender-switching somewhat confusing. But not, she thought to herself, nearly as confusing as he does. She does. Whatever…
Osric stared sternly at Luster. “We should not draw attention to ourselves, Troublesome Strumpet.”
“Agreed. We should mute our presence.” Daphne concurred. “We don’t know who might be watching.”
“Indeed,” Silence abandoned his meditations and joined the conversation. Osric and Daphne had spoken true and thoughtful words. Surely, he could do better. “Only in hiding one’s identity can one truly be known. Wwwwwwaa!”
There. Mystical eastern-style wisdom. Silence looked very satisfied with himself. The others gazed at him in confusion. Clearly, his wisdom was beyond their meager intellect.
Daphne, as though she could hear his thoughts, shook her head slightly. No, she thought. You’re just a self-important dumbass.
“I’m sorry,” the innkeeper said, approaching their table meekly. “There is no rooms for you tonight.”
“Nonsense,” Silence answered him. “Your inn is empty.” Silence focused his will on the innkeeper’s weak mind, gesturing slightly with one hand. “There is plenty of room for us” he suggested.
“Room is not a problem,” the innkeeper agreed. “Truthfully, the problem is…”
“Truthfully, you are not welcome here.”
The innkeeper had been interrupted by a voice from a corner table near the fire. A cowled man sat unnoticed in the shadows. Osric hadn’t remembered seeing anyone else in the common room when they arrived. Who was this and how long had he been there? The group rose as one, Osric fixing his shield on his left arm as he stood.
