GURPS Banestorm redux narrative thread

GM POST

@DaakSyde @William_George @MalevolentPixy @strokeybeard

Retrieving a mini spyglass from one of his many pockets, Thwip carefully eases it through the illusory wall. The field of view is narrow and dim, but it’s better than nothing.

After another tense delay, a pair of figures descend from the stairs to the hospital wing.

They are elves, dressed in black silk outfits which appear remarkably similar to Aronn’s normal attire. One carries a slender spear; the other has some sort of short flail in his right hand and an unusual [1] dagger in his left. Both have longbows slung over their shoulders.

They move with great stealth and a deadly grace, signalling to each other with silent gestures. They appear to be a well-practiced team. As you watch, they move towards the armoury wing (AKA Eabd’s section) and disappear up the stairs.

[1] The quillons are greatly extended, and curve forwards almost as far as the tip of the blade.

Thwip

Thwip turns to the others and makes a spider with his hands followed by a throat-cutting action. The goblin then mouths “assassins” at the rest of the party while holding up two fingers. He makes pointy elf ears with his hands and fingers over his own pointy goblin ears in the hopes that everyone realizes that they must strive to be equally silent lest they’re spotted by the fabled elven hearing. He then makes walking-up-stairs motions with his fingers, points in the general direction of the armory while mouthing the same.

He then makes a running motion, and with a questioning face mouths at Ranar, “Go?”

Ranar Bolijyr

Blast! The delay didn’t slow them down. Still, the armory is the farthest point from the exit. Ranar quickly makes a circular gesture and points to Aronn and the middle of the circle, then nods and waves everyone forward urgently.

As they hastily form up, he moves to the left side of the group, shield and axe readied.

GM POST

@DaakSyde @William_George @MalevolentPixy @strokeybeard

Aronn struggles to his feet and hobbles along on his staff as the party moves out into the central chamber. Nic and Jibril lead, while Ranar covers the flank, armour softly jingling. Thwip and Hawk bring up the rear.

As the party approaches the gloom of the unlit entrance hall, only Thwip sees the black clad figure appear from the tunnel in front. Squeaking a warning, he raises his rifle to his shoulder, but by that time the arrow is already in flight. Before de Courcy can react, the projectile plunges through the centre of his chest, punching several inches out the back.

While Jibril and Hawk momentarily freeze in shock, Ranar roars and charges towards the attacker. Thwip pushes his rifle past Jibril and lets fly; the shot is accurate, but the elf dodges as it retreats into the tunnel.

Snapping out of his shock, Jibril also charges for the bowman. As he reaches the top of the stairwell, he screams and stumbles. He tumbles down the stairs, his sword going flying as he lands at the base with a caltrop spike impaling his foot.

Skidding to a halt with a curse, Ranar shelters behind his shield as he struggles to kick the caltrops clear in the near dark. As he does so, the elf lets another arrow fly, pinning the fallen Jibril to the stones.

As Thwip frantically reloads, Aronn falls to his knees and grabs something from his pouch. Holding his clenched fist to his temple, he begins to chant as Hawk spins to cover the rear, spear and shield at the ready.

Clear of the caltrops, Ranar roars and leaps down the stairs. Landing with a thunderous crash, he charges past the unmoving Jibril towards the deadly accurate archer.

Scrambling further back into the darkness of the tunnel, the elf drops its bow and draws a pair of unusual hooked swords. Ranar follows, axe and shield high.

Back in the main chamber, Thwip reloads his rifle just in time as Hawk shouts a warning. Racing across the chamber from the armoury are what appear to be the other two elves. They move with inhuman speed, and are painfully hard to visually track; it as if they were each blurred into an ever-shifting yard-wide cloud. The effect appears to be similar to what occurred with Ranar during the fight with the centaurs.

The first to close is the one with the strange dagger and flail. As Hawk desperately thrusts, the elf catches his spear with the long tines of its dagger, then whips the short flail over the shaman’s shield. The foot-long club which forms the end of the flail smashes into his unprotected head, crumpling him to the ground.

Snatching his rifle to his shoulder, Thwip whips off another snap shot at the rapidly-closing blur of the second elf. Defeated by the visual distortions, his shot goes astray and the elf leaps forwards, spearpoint lancing towards the goblin’s heart.

Moments before the blow lands, Arron’s staff scythes across in front of Thwip, deflecting the spear into the ground. Springing to his feet with fluid agility, the apparently-once-again-uncursed mage spins into the melee, his staff glowing with its familiar black light.

In the entrance hall, Ranar closes and swings a mighty blow. The elf catches the axe on crossed blades, then spins left and hooks for the dwarf’s knee with his right-hand sword. Ranar himself turns as he pulls his leg out of danger, deflecting the blow with the rim of his shield.

The dwarven warrior swings again, and again the elf uses both swords to defend, then flicks the hook of one sword over the rim of Ranar’s shield. As he uses the hook to jerk the shield aside, his other blade scythes low towards the dwarf’s neck.

Ranar tries to jerk out of the way, but fails to evade. Fortunately, his extensive collection of steel outerwear extends to his neck; the mail and plates collar deflects the blow without harm. Ranar steps forwards again, slamming his axe down once more. This time, he aims his force at the defending swords, smashing all three weapons into the floor with a tremendous crash.

Screaming in dwarvish, Ranar turns his axe and rips it upwards in a blow that would have surely bisected the elf had it not taken that moment to somersault backwards. Landing with perfect poise, the black-clad assassin grins and raises his right sword in salute as he mutters a word in elvish. As he does so, his appearance blurs in a similar fashion to his companions in the main chamber.

In the main chamber, Aronn leaps and whirls, his staff a blur as he stands over Hawk and fends off both attackers. All of the elves move like dancers, in a notably similar style that is both beautiful and deadly. But although their styles are similar, it is clear that Aronn’s skill far surpasses that of his attackers. However, the press of numbers is forcing him to concentrate on defence, and he is unable to land a blow.

Reloaded once again, Thwip squints with watering eyes as he desperately attempts to draw a bead on the blurred, leaping targets. More than once his finger twitches on the trigger only to be stayed by a fear of hitting Aronn. As the battle circles in front of him, he slowly creeps forwards, waiting for a target.

In the entrance, Ranar lowers his shield and charges at his mocking opponent. His ferocious roar twists into a snarl of frustration as he impacts only air. Now behind him, the elf hooks a sword around Ranar’s right knee and tears his leg out from under him. The dwarf crashes to the ground, desperately rolling to free his leg and bring his shield back into play.

Catching one blade on his shield, Ranar swings his axe at the one place where he knows he can find a target: the sword hooking his knee. Stretching to reach past the hilt, he screams in triumph as he feels the blade smash through an elven wrist and sees his target return to normal, un-blurred appearance. Unfortunately, this means that his mouth is wide open as the spurting blood from the elf’s severed wrist sprays into his face.

Creeping to the side, Thwip aims and fires. The shot grazes the left arm of the flail-wielding elf, causing him to drop his dagger. Spinning with a snarl, the elf leaps at Thwip and brings his flail smashing into the goblin’s right arm, snapping it like a twig. Thwip screams and falls, but holds onto his rifle with his left hand.

Aronn catches the spear-wielder’s weapon on the tip of his staff, flicking it offline before leaping back towards the elf standing over Thwip. Extending into a full lunge, he pokes the end of his staff into the flail-elf’s back. As soon as it touches, the black light of Aronn’s magic crackles all over the elf’s body, which suddenly loses its blur and begins to visibly wither and crack under the magical assault. Mouth open in a scream that instantly fades to a croaking hiss, the elf collapses to the ground in a crumpled heap.

In the entrance hall, Ranar rises to his feet with a roar. Leaping forwards, he brings his axe down on the elf’s remaining sword, deliberately hooking both blades together. Pulling the weapons down and away, he steps forwards and slams the rim of his shield into the elf’s throat.

As the elf falls, Ranar drops both knees onto his enemy’s stomach, and continues to slam the rim of his shield again and again into the increasingly unrecognizable elvish face.

Back in the main chamber, the spear-elf recovers its weapon and launches into a lunge that is almost a perfect mirror of Aronn’s move. While his weapon does not carry Aronn’s deadly magic, it does carry a bright and razor-sharp spearpoint. The blade rips into Aronn’s back before punching out through his sternum.

With a shocked gasp, Aronn clutches at the bloody metal. Lifting his head towards Thwip, he croaks “the ring…the Master must not find it…”. Then his hands are enveloped in the familiar black light, which flows into the spearpoint and down the shaft, crackling as it burns through Aronn’s own chest.

As it reaches the elf at the other end, the now-familiar horrorshow recurs; the target screams and writhes as it withers in the black, apparently unable to release the spear. Both Aronn and the spear-elf collapse to the ground and move no more.

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Thwip

– Ah! I believe that I am having a disassociative moment. That explains my lack of pain and the fact that I can see myself from above. Look at my beaten and battered body there standing in shock among the corpses of my friends. I feel that I shall be spending many nights crying over their memories in the future. Well, should I get out of this alive to have futures. What’s this? I’m opening the box and taking out the ring? Will I slip it on? I wonder if I’ll go invisible or see eldritch nightmares just beyond our reality? –

– Oh. I seem to have swallowed it. Well, that’s one way to keep it hidden though fishing through the chamber pot over the next few days won’t be very fun.–

– There I go, stumbling off in a daze. I better follow myself. It sounds like Ranar is still alive at least.–

– I wonder how loud I’ll scream when I fully realize what has happened?–

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Ranar Bolijyr

Ranar slumps on the steps, catching his breath. All is quiet. Too quiet. He gets up and checks on the rest of the team. He’s prepared to do first aid, but not last rites. Choked up. Speechless. So far they came, so much they’ve survived. Then these three - only three! Not even warriors, but - shadow elves, he thinks with a sneer.

Finding Thwip still mobile, he gives the little guy a big hug. Without words, he sets to bandaging up the goblin while thinking about how much loot might be on the fallen. But time may be short…who knows what now waits aboveground.

Thwip

There is a high-pitched noise that begins to pipe during the embrace. It continues throughout the bandaging. Later on it would be established that Thwip was stifling his screaming. When he runs out of breath he buries both types of pain as deeply as he can. He is determined to see that at least Ranar gets home.

Ranar Bolijyr

With things quieted down, Ranar tends to setting up their companions’ bodies in dignified postures as well as he can. Blue Hawk with his drum and spear, Jibril and de Courcy with their weapons at rest, Aronn resting peacefully.

That unpleasant act done, he heads to the armory pile. He’s not going to leave all this loot to centaurs and assassins. After a brief longing look at the mace and morningstar, he leaves them, instead gathering up the easier-to-carry swords. Along with one of the elven assassin swords, he ties the hilts together and wraps the bundle in a bit of cloth and slings it from his backpack.

Back in the entryway, he sorts the coins and jewelry into two piles (just by chance of the order that he draws the coins, gold tends to go into his own pile while Thwip’s pile gets an equivalent value counted out in other metals).

“I’ve got these weapons, they’ll be worth something and we’ll split that when we get it. Th-Think you can carry that box and those potions?” he asks Thwip. “I don’t know much about that sort of thing, but they could be pretty valuable. I’m going to take a look topside.”

After a quick peek out the entrance looks all clear, he returns to Thwip. “Let’s get outta here. T-t-try to find a local that can guide us to the nearest river crossing and into Cardiel. Then I think best to head downstream. Don’t seem a good idea to show ourselves in Tredroy quite yet after the incidents there. Downriver though, there’ll be a port. We can sell off some of this stuff, maybe find out what’s in that box and what we’ve gotten ourselves into.” He shudders. “What think ye?”

Aronn had said, ‘the Master must not find it’. Having seen the boss’s power, Ranar silently cringed at the thought of what Aronn would call ‘the Master’.

Thwip

The goblin is unusually taciturn as Ranar lays their companions out.

– I never trusted Aronn. Yet when it came down to it he saved my life.–

He mutters “Yeh” as he takes the items offered. Once he has the opportunity to find his pack among the remains of the camp he packs it.

“I plan t’ find who haired tem elfs an make tem pay fir t’ killing t’ otters.”

Without another word Thwip picks up his burden and nods at Ranar to take the lead. They have a long walk home.

GM POST

@DaakSyde @William_George @MalevolentPixy @strokeybeard @enceladus

Emerging blinking into the bright Wazifi sunshine, Thwip and Ranar set off to the east, back towards the road. They make an unusual sight; the slender goblin has his right arm bound, while the burly dwarf drags a hefty bundle of weaponry behind him, lashed to the shaft of a duelling halberd.

Although they are somber at first, Thwip’s natural cheerfulness soon reassert itself. Chattering happily, he fails to note the small copse of trees up ahead until Ranar raises a hand to silence him.

“There’s someone up ahead in the trees”.

[player cue: what are Thwip and Ranar doing?]

Thwip

– If I lose another friend to a fight that shouldn’t have happened…–

Thwip places his pack on the ground as gingerly as he can with a broken arm. He then nods to Ranar and begins walking towards the trees. He approaches in a noisy manner with his arms as wide as he can make them. He then speaks in Arabic.

“A-hem. Hullo. Mein neim is Thwip. Az you kin see I aim unarmdt. Though I zink zat you shouldt iknore mein heafily armdt friend und focus on me. Ve haff had und terrible day fightingk vit irrational elves and vould be verty happy if you vill be villing to sit down vit us und enjoy a meal. Ve haff little food but ve vill gladly share it vit you.”

Thwip waits for a reply, ready to repeat it again in Anglish.

He fervently hopes that, should the mystery person or persons be part of the elven strike force, they are greatly worried that the goblin and dwarf are the only ones walking away from the encounter.

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Sasha

Sasha watches the approaching figures from his seat in the copse. He pokes at a small fire heating a leather bag of stew as the green thing struggles out of its pack and moves towards him, arms wide, jabbering in some unintelligible surface language. He looks down at the stones lying in the dirt and shrugs. A dwarf and a goblin, and from the right direction too. Well, what Fate decrees is decreed by Fate, he would have to get them to agree to it one way or another.

Standing up he calls out in dwarvish

< Ho Brother Traveller, I have food here and I have drink here, you are welcome to eat this food and you are welcome to drink this drink. Bring your pet and sit for we have things to discuss and time is short. >

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Ranar Bolijyr

“Ah hhrr um.” Ranar freezes for a moment. He’d been expecting more trouble, or possibly a local farmer. A fellow dwarf though, was the last thing that he expected. “H-ho Brother … Traveller! A good meal would be quite welcome at the…now.” he calls out.

He picks up his bundle and gets Thwip’s pack, handing it over to Thwip as he walks up. More quietly, and with some obvious relief, “'Tis another dwarf! And we’ve lucked out and arrived just at mealtime!”

As they approach the trees, the smell of the stew awakens his hunger. The sight of another dwarf out here on the surface, so far from Zarak is oddly both comforting and awkward. He clears his throat to make introductions “Gd-ple-erm ahem. Auspicious to meet you! I am Ranar Bolijyr and my traveling companion is none other than Thwip the Magnificent!”

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Sasha

Sasha steps out into view and eyes up the motley pair. He’s probably the first clean shaven dwarf you’ve seen.

"For help of heathen I Anglish speak.

I be Sasha DeStijl, Brother Protector of the Dark Places That Dwarves Must Go. Come, sit, I have food, you eat here. I have drink, you drink here. This is how it must be."

He gestures for you to both sit down and prepares some tea. The tea is made from the last of his supplies of dwarven moss, and a delicacy not often seen on the surface. He felt the need to make a good impression given he was meeting a dwarf, even one as bare-headed as this one.

He looks nervous as he offers the tea in small wooden cups.

[Edited to make it clear he doesn’t have a beard]

Thwip

–Another Thumb! A shaven Thumb at that. Add a bit of green and fix the teeth and they might almost be attractively Goblinesque.–

Thwip is somewhat relieved. The machinations of elves has given him a deep hurt this day and humans tend to be elfish at times. He appreciates the sturdiness of the Dwarven people. This might be due to the influence of Archmage Eyegouger upon his life when he was young. He is momentarily taken back to those days as he hears the impenetrable Dwarven language spoken.

“Yeh little green shits may call us ‘Thumbs’ but yeh try to swing a pick wit’oot having a thumb. Nothing gits done is what I’m telling yeh. No, yeh canna build a machine to do yeh digging! Don’t talk such nonsense! The Church wouldn’t allow it anyway. Now stop fiddling with that orb b’fore yeh brains get melted.”

Thwip smiles and partakes in the hospitality offered.

Ranar Bolijyr

As he enters the shade of the copse of trees, Ranar is surprised by the sight of a beardless dwarf. An exile? A deviant? A lunatic? With the aid of his shyness, he fights back the impulse to question the stranger and plays off his reaction as adjusting to the sudden change from bright sunlight to shade.

He happily sits by the fire to relax and enjoy the hospitality. As Sasha hands him a cup of tea he pauses for a moment to inhale the scent of home. Then a thought hits him - “Oh ha - what goes good with moss tea?” He rummages in his pack for a moment and then passes around what used to be a few crumbly mushroom shortbread cookies. He’s been saving them for awhile so they’re just broken bits of cookie now, but still taste like home.

“So ah, what direction are ye headed in yer travels?”

“I am here and you are here and the Heathen is here. We are here together, this is how it must be.”

Sasha looks into your bemused faces. He sighs and decides to try again.

“It is Fate. Look, this…” he gestures at a pebble on the ground, “this me. It is here, I am here, so it is. This…” he points to two other small stones nearby, “this you two. They are there, you are there, so it was.”

“That…”, he says, pointing at a stone further away in the other direction, “that is someone else.” He draws a line in the dirt from that one to the rest of them.

“They are there but will be here.”

He looks up, still unsure if you’ve grasped it yet. He draws a circle in the dirt around the stone representing himself.

“This was.”

Another circle is drawn around the three of you.

“This is.”

Then a final circle encompassing all of them.

“This will be. As it is written in these stones, it is fated. Nothing more can be done. We must travel awhile together until the stones release us.”

As he looks up to see whether you understand now you notice that his final circle includes a fifth stone, off to the side.

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Thwip

To his credit Thwip manages to not roll his eyes and sigh.

– Sweet virgin mother Mary who ascended to Heaven with her incorrupt body and sinless soul, the strange things people believe.–

Forcing a smile Thwip responds, “Tat’s good t’ here. Does tis circle haff Tredroy in it? Plenty off stones tere.”

Ranar

Listening to their host’s speech was relaxing and a bit comforting. With his stutter, Ranar had always felt a bit out of place in conversation, trying to push the thoughts from his mind out of his mouth while everyone else waited. Although Sasha spoke clearly, the simple, repetitive staccato pattern must have made him feel similarly.

When Sasha says that “they will be here”, he takes a quick glance back in the direction of the ruined fort, then pays closer attention until Sasha finishes. “Th-th … S-so ah, joining the circle, not trying to break it?” He nods and glances at Thwip. “Aye, more stones make a stronger foundation.”

“But here is not, may not, be where best to be.” He breaks a dried twig into many pieces and scatters them off to one side of the circles, but not far away, pointing at them. “They were, and may still be. And they are not stones. Tis a land o’ bandits.”

He leans back on the soft moss for a moment watching the sunlight on the leaves shift in the breeze. “Yet I could use a rest. And here’s better than the open fields. Is it written in the stones whether t’ camp or press on?”

Sasha

Sasha isn’t sure that you’ve properly understood, with Ranar’s twigs and Thwip’s talk of places, but at least you seem to have grasped the basics.

Addressing Thwip he says “Places they are not, people they are. See how they lie…people, not places!” as if this should be obvious to you.

He picks up the stones and drops them one by one into a tooled leather pouch.

“I am here and you are here and you are here and he…he is coming.” He holds up the pouch. “Then we will be together and Fate will hold us. I do not know what will happen but we will live our Fate until Fate lets us go.”

He selects three other stones and adds them to the others before putting the pouch away.

“Now we have met and now we have drunk and now we have foretold and now we will eat.”