Episode 44
"Music, Monkeys, and Meat"
(c) 2002 Matt Grossman and J. Sage Schreiner

Tron, a lucky elf, Matt Grossman
Norel, a battle-scarred ranger, Tom Morin
Nigil, a mysterious noble from a distant land, Kevin Osborn
Tarilian, an elvish troubador of unsurpassed skill, Sonny McKnire
All others, J. Sage Schreiner

The party sets out from the dwarf tunnels to return to Nightfang
Spire, but not without some last minute difficulties.

Tron: Dammit! These bracers of defense are incompatible with my magic
armor! It's one or the other. I think the armor is better. Maybe
we'll find someone who needs the bracers.

Norel speaks with a dwarven wizard about whether it is possible to
hide a magic item.

Mage: Hmmm... Hmmm... Can you provide me more detail?
Norel: No.
Mage: Hmmmm... Such things may be... possible.
Norel: When we come back we might need your help.
Mage: Hmmm... speak to me then.

When the party emerges into the Bone March they notice that it is
unseasonably warm.

Norel: It's almost as if some power wanted to extend the campaigning
season.
Nigil: The weather has favored the forces of evil in the past...
Laurallie: They have no respect for nature. In the end, that will be
their downfall. I hope.

The party travels overland for a day and comes within sight of the
spire as night is falling.

Tron: Get down! There's some guys approaching the ravine. I'll go
investigate.

The elf ditches his pack and sneaks towards the ravine that holds the
spire. The group that he sighted consists of several horsemen leading
a chain gang of dazed, drugged looking captives. They go into the
ravine and halt at the base of the spire. Tron follows, and sneaks
close enough to hear them talk. The horsemen are all half-orcs, except
for their leader, who is a human.

Leader: Ok, now we wait here for the pickup.
Half Orc: If I'd known we were gonna go here, I never would have
joined up!
Leader: Quit whining, you're getting paid plenty. Let's relax, the
pickup won't be for a while.

The horsemen dismount and lounge about. Most start gambling, while
one plucks at a lute clumsily. The leader alertly scans the area,
but fails to notice Tron. The captives stand like so many sheep.
They definitely appear to be drugged. However, one of them seems to be
alert, a short elf who every now and then glances about him secretively.

Tron: They'll have to get these guys inside the spire somehow. I'll
wait and see their door, that'll be better than climbing in the top
again.

The elf notices a decayed body lying on the ground near the spire. It
appears to be that of an undead which fell through the same trapdoor
as Tron. A broken mop and bucket lies next to it.

Time passes. The shadows grow longer. Meanwhile, farther up the
ravine...

Norel: Let's go see what's keeping Tron.
Nigil: If I have to rescue that little...
Laurallie: I'll guard the baggage.

The ranger and fighter "sneak" down the ravine, and soon see the
guards and prisoners at the base of the spire.

Norel: Fresh meat for the vampires probably. We've got to rescue
them!

Norel sneaks around one side of the spire, and Nigil sneaks around the
other side. Tron sees them coming.

Tron: Figures, the one time that I wait, and don't attack, they
attack. (stands up, and moves closer)
Leader: (sees Tron) Hey! Elf!
Half-Orcs: (leap to their feet) Huh? What?
Norel: Tron! [twang twang twang]
Half-Orc: Ouch! There's two of them!
Nigil: Make that three! [hack]

Battle is joined. Norel and Tron fire at the half-orcs from a
distance, but only score one kill. Nigil trades blows with another
one. The other guards rush to their horses. One of them passes the
line of prisoners.

Elf: (who has quietly freed his hands) Look into my eyes. I am your
best friend.
Half Orc: Hey! Buddy!
Elf: You don't want to fight. You want to stay here with me.
Half Orc: Okay.

Three of the half orcs mount and charge Norel and Tron, while the
leader and another half orc fight Nigil.

Nigil: [hack stab] You guys are pretty good.
Leader: Kill him! [hack stab]

Tron and Norel fire at the oncoming riders and kill one.

Half-Orc: (falls from his horse and is dragged by the stirrup for some
distance)
Tron: Cool.
Half-Orc: (charges Tron) Die, elf!
Tron: Oathbow, I swear to kill this dude! [twang twang twang]
Half-Orc: Ouch! [stab] (gallops past and wheels his horse around)
Tron: This better work... [twang twang twang]
Half-Orc: Urk. [thud]
Norel: [twang twang twang]
Half-Orc: (dies)

Nigil cuts down the half-orc he is fighting and turns on the leader.

Nigil: That's a nice horse. I think I'll take it. [cleave]
Leader: (breaks off combat and gallops away)
Tron: Oh no you don't. [twang twang]

The leader's horse keeps galloping for a while, then slows to a walk,
and finally stops. When the party runs up they find the leader dead,
with an arrow buried in the nape of his neck.

Norel: Nice shot.

At this point there is only one surviving half-orc, the one that has
been charmed by the elf.

Elf: The Company of the Cup, I presume?
Norel: I guess so. Who are you?

The elf's name is Tarilian. It turns out that he is a wandering
minstrel, who has been sent by the White Lady of the elves to find
and assist the party.

Tarilian: I asked her to teach me the ancient lore and arcana of
the master bards of yore. She did.
Nigil: Cool. It sounds like you got a good deal.
Tarillian: Nah, I got jacked. She used her magic to link my well
being to the success of your quest. It sucks.
Norel: Yeah, we know about that.
Tarilian: I went to Ratik to find you guys, and these jokers jumped
me, knocked me out, and that was that. Do you have any idea why?
Norel: Well, I'd guess that you were going to be fed to vampires.
Tarilian: Yuck. Anyway, I'm supposed to help you guys find a crown, or
something like that. The White Lady did me a favor, so to speak,
and I'd like to repay her. In fact, I don't have a choice.

As he speaks he is recovering various personal possessions from the
guards, including several musical instruments.

Tarilian: Sometimes I wished those brutes would destroy my lute. It
was "Freebird" for a week straight.
Half-Orc: Hey, that's my favorite song!

They loot the bodies and make camp in a cave a ways up the ravine.
There is some debate about what to do with the bodies. In the end
they decide to decapitate them and burn the heads.

Laurallie: That should stop them rising as undead. Around here we
have to worry about that.

In the morning the half-orc is missing, and there is a pool of blood
where he was sleeping.

Tron: It was a pre-emptive strike. He was going to start planning to
escape eventually. As soon as he woke up.
Laurallie: You are, like, sooooo lucky Obad-Hai isn't your god.
Norel: What's wrong with killing orcs?
Laurallie: Half-orcs!
Norel: What's the difference?
Laurallie: Half-orcs have souls. They can choose between good and
evil. You can't just kill them.
Norel: And this guy chose evil. Case closed.

The captives have mostly recovered from the effects of the drugs they were
fed. The party gives them the horses and weapons of their captors,
points them towards Ratik, and watches them ride off.

Captive 1: Dude, that was expansive. I was oneness with the great being.
You know what I mean?
Captive 2: Do we have any potato chips left?
Captive 3: Did anyone save a stash? I mean, it's like seriously uncool 
not to share.

Nigil: I hope they don't run into the orc army.
Norel: These are hard times.
Tron: Tarilian, how come you weren't affected by the drug?
Tarilian: I saw what they were up to and didn't their food. You wouldn't
happen to have any more of that beef jerky, do you?

The party returns to the spire and scales it again. They set up camp
on the top and prepare to descend once more into the depths.

Norel: Hopefully they're not waiting for us.
Nigil: Hopefully they haven't moved the crown.

The party goes down to the second level of the spire where, once
again, they are confronted by three doors. They open the door which
has the most traffic through it and discover a flight of stairs
leading down. They go down, and see that the stairs open onto a small
room. There is an alcove near the stairs, which has a trapdoor in it.

Tron: I'm getting tired of those things.

There are two doors leading out of the room, on opposite sides. They
open one, and see that it leads into a large chamber, too large for
their light to penetrate. There are several huge blocks of stone
lying around, and the room appears to be a sculptor's workshop.
Grunting and panting sounds are coming from behind one of the stones.

Tarilian: Allow me.

The bard strikes a chord on his lute, and magical lights fly across
the room, illuminating two large, four-armed apes... girallons! They
appear to be busy.

Laurallie: Oh my.
Tron: Monkey love. Heh heh.
Norel: They don't have the evil and otherworldly aura of the ones
we fought in Yenejg's pimp lair.
Nigil: They seem pretty mad anyway. Hey, I'd be mad if I got
interrupted like that.
Norel: I think they're hungry.
Girallons: Rrrrargh! (charge the party)

Tron tries to tumble behind the apes, but is wounded. Still, he is
able to backstab one. Meanwhile, Norel and Nigil charge into battle.
One of the girallons is quickly slain, and the other backed into a
corner. Suddenly a mob of girallons rush into the chamber behind the
party.

Laurallie: [bzort] I need some help back here!
Norel: I'm on my way!
Nigil: I'll finish this one! [stab]
Girallon: Urk.
Tron: [twang twang]

The charging mob of girallons threatens to overwhelm the party before
they can form a defensive line.

Tarilian: (plays a quick tune on his lute)

A huge pile of meat appears on top of the trapdoor. It smells
delicious.

Girallon#1: Urg? Raargh! (lunges for the meat)
Girallon#2: Roargh. (lunges for Girallon#1 and tackles it... onto the
trapdoor)

Both girallons fall through the trap and disappear. When the trap
closes again, the meat is still there.

Tarilian: Music has great power over the weak-minded.
Tron: Nice work.
Girallon: (cautiously feels the illusory meat, then ignores it)
Tarilian: These things must be smarter than they look.

Nigil and Norel quickly form a line and block the girallon advance,
enabling Laurallie to fall back. Tron peppers the monsters with
arrows as the battle rages. Both fighters are badly wounded.

Tarilian: (strikes his lute and sings)

"You may talk about the Vesve or the wood of Celadon,
 The archers of the Gamboge or the Jaegers of Nyrond,
 There's men in every forest land across the wide Flanaess,
 But of them all the rangers of the Adri are the best."
 
Norel is inspired by Tarilian's song, and strikes the girallons with
renewed strength. After a furious battle only the chief girallon, a
huge monster wearing a leather mask crudely shaped like a skull,
remains.

Girallon: Raargh! [claw claw claw claw]
Nigil: Laugh while you can, monkeyboy! [stab]
Norel: Actually it's an ape. [hack chop mace chop]
Tron: I'd call it dead. [twang twang twang] 
Girallon: Urk. [thud]

Tarilian: What unpleasant creatures. Ow! What the...

The elf has been struck in the face by the tongue of a creature
standing behind him. The party turns and sees a decayed, corpse like
figure with a long, prehensile tongue standing behind them.

Laurallie: Begone, hellspawn!
Monster: Ssss... (wiggles its tongue at her)
Laurallie: Saaayy...
Nigil: Let me show you how to turn undead. Yaaargh! [stab]
Tarilian: What a foul creature. Say, where's Tron?
Norel: Uh-oh. Mace, do your stuff! [bash]
Monster: (strikes at them with its claws, but is quickly overwhelmed)
Nigil: ... and stay down! [poke]

Tron is discovered lying paralyzed in the next room. They prop him up
against the wall and wait for him to recover.

Tron: I never heard it coming.
Norel: You're lucky it didn't drain your energy.
Laurallie: Now you know what it's like to be struck down from behind.

Most of their healing magic is expended, and they decide to tackle the
level the next day. They briefly explore the large room and confirm
that it is a sculptor's workshop. There are tools and a number of
unfinished headstones lying around.

Tarilian: Judging from the outside of the tower, I'd say this cult
had an obsession with stonecarving.
Laurallie: Duh.
Tron: I wonder why they stopped?
Tarilian: According to legend, the dragon Ashardalon was killed by a
druid named Dydd. When that happened the cult disappeared. Maybe
they just all went away?

On the top of the spire, the stench from the decaying dragon and the
flying octopus is almost overwhelming. The heat does not help. They
hear a roaring from below.

Nigil: It looks like one of those girallons survived.
Tron: Not for long! Hee hee. [twang twang twang]
Girallon: (bellowing in pain, it runs down the ravine)
Norel: Are you done wasting arrows for the day?
Tron: Guess so.

The party passes an unpleasant night, suffering from the stench and
occasionally hearing the roar of the girallon in the distance.
Tarilian entertains the party with his tales of his travels across
the Flanaess. They descend into the spire the next day.

Tarilian: Let's get out of this oppressive stench.

They explore the girallon level, after first decapitating the monsters
so that they cannot rise as undead. They find a number of rooms
filled with debris and monkey feces, two vats of tannic acid
(apparently the source of the strange undead creature), and another
one of the leafless tree symbols.

Tarilian: I'd say that that is a magical warding sign. Kind of like
an alarm; if the caster were to concentrate on it, he'd be aware of
what was happening nearby.
Norel: No he won't. [pound pound pound]
Laurallie: I don't understand what those girallons were doing here.
There's no food.
Nigil: I think they were put here to stop us.

The last door they open shows a flight of stairs leading down.

Tron: Hmm... thirty feet per level, tower is three hundred feet tall,
that means... hmmm... there's thirty levels like this!
Laurallie: You mean ten.
Tron: Oh yeah.
Tarilian: If we do meet any intelligent undead, give me the chance to
talk with them. I just recently acquired the ability to move even
their desecated hearts with my music.
Nigil: I don't think they'll be in a mood for talking. Or for music.
But you're welcome to try.

TO BE CONTINUED...