Festival of the Lion

HobGoblin Hyjynx
As told by Gob

From a Gobs eye view

Hob Goblin “You moron!”
He stood over gob screaming, spit landed on Gob’s green bald forehead. His rotting breath singed his nose and made his eyes water.
“IDIOT! WHY YOU LET THEM DIE!” Gorgo pointed at the bodies littering the ground. Slaves, human slaves, taken advantage for their nimble human fingers and attention to detail. Something the average goblin is not known for.
It wasn’t as if Gob could of prevented their deaths. Lying next to the last human to die was the body of a Krenshar. A big kitty known for ripping goblins apart. Secretly Gob was glad the big kitties went after the humans first but after Gorgo was done yelling at him he was sure he would be killed for not stopping the Krenshar sooner.
He did kill the kitty after all, a lucky jab from his spear had found the eye socket. But there was no pats on the back, no good jobs, just anger and a looming knowledge of how hobgoblins react when angry. Gob gulped fearing his head would not stay attached to his body much longer.

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Azrayel's Aftermath
Death to the Orcs & Defense for Chad

Azrayel’s Aftermath :

While heroically volunteering to guard the town while the rest of the party went off.. to… do… something…. I fought valiantly against swarms of orcs, outnumbered at least 10 to 1. After cutting down the masses by myself, very bravely, I quickly burned the corpses in the ceremonial cremation that I learned early on is the “proper” way to send the fallen evil to their eternal judgment, mmmmm that’s some sweet justice…. before the others returned, that’s why there was barely any left for them to fight at the end. The other party members were separated and needed to be saved by the Tristinian Ambassadors, who I later met. I practiced throwing main-hand weapons, a secret hobby of mine, in hopes that one day this skill will come in handy. When the town was once again safe from the evil incursion I began helping the villagers fortify their homes against future orc attacks with holy defensive spike structures, a moat, and an iron-clad draw bridge door. Chad was the most thankful and although a little abrasive was glad to have such fancy, hard-worked, impressive defense. There was a feast and lots of fresh water for all to drink in celebration of another victory for the town of Beckna, Azrayel hoped that one day all of the villagers would give them fancy badges of exalted reputation for thanks for all their hard work in bringing peace to a very troubled town. Chad and James had mentioned they were jealous of Chad’s fancy defense systems so Azrayel talked Chad into helping them with their fortifications. Later in that day the Mayor of Beckna, Kelvin, told them some of the villagers were becoming sick with tainted water and wanted “The Archaic Dawn” and other faithful companions to help find out why. Never tired, and eager to take on this VERY important quest, Azrayel and his entourage headed out!

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Disaster at the Water Store

Disater at the water store

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Disaster @ the Water store 2
Kacaga's Perspective.

Water Store

adventure in kacaga’s water store!

kacaga bravely smashed the wall but the the wall was feirce and broke kacaga’s words! and then there was an earthquake or somehing that kacaga totally did not in any way cause hapened. and the earthquake made the floor of the cave break and then the rest of the party was surrounded by mean mushroom thingies that im pretty sure would not tast good and dispite not haveing in evil aura were pretty evil. then kacaga bravely went down and smashed them all single handedly. with no help from from any one espically the drunk dwarf who kacaga is still a little made at for smasing that one guys head in….. stupid dwarf. anyway after kacaga saved every one they threw him a party and all gave lots of shiney coins to the church! yay kacaga! on a side note this mushrooms did not award kacaga any delicious treats :(.

then kacaga found this secret tunnel thingy and

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Tubryn's Cottage
Another Unexciting Night.

Tubryn was many things through out his life; a farmer, a solider, a Fletcher , a father thrice, a husband twice, and a singer in his youth (now just in his cups) That was in the past, for now Tubryn was an old man and unexciting in every way. Alone in his cottage he passes time whittling in front of the fire. His one and only friend Howler always curled up by his feet, dreaming of whatever dogs dream. Unexciting, exactly how Tubryn likes it.

Not too far off the Kings Highway lay the humble cottage of Tubryn. It was a peaceful location far enough from the road to avoid the hustle and bustle of travelers and traders. Close enough that wildlife left him alone, barring the occasional thieving raccoon or curious bear. A couple of kids know of it’s location and regularly enjoy bothering Tubryn with their games of knight’s oath and up’n at’em. Not tonight though, this was one of those perfect unexciting nights Tubryn enjoyed so much.

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A Royal Bore
Diplomacy is such a pain.

Ellena

“Now presenting, sir Justin Torf of The Western Isles.”

Ellena held back a yawn. This was the 10th suitor of the day. Traveling to the festival in hopes of catching a princess and a political ally. It all sounded the same to Ellie. Grown men groveling at her father’s feet like dogs begging for a table scrap. Trying to make sweet potions with their words all the while standing as if they had a pole arm in their posterior.


Ellie caught her eyelids closing and straightened in her chair. Sir Justin what ever his name likely didn’t notice, if he did, he wouldn’t care. The entry was far enough away that she doubted he could see her eyes. As if he’d look at them. The Royal Hall was large enough to fit 300 standing patrons. All lined up to speak with the king, to request help, give fealty, and express concerns. Today, not so much.


Her Father sat to her left in his raggedy throne. At first glance you would not consider it a throne. It was ugly, awkward , and incredibly uncomfortable. Ellie used to sit in it when she was younger and act like a King when alone in the hall. Her doll, Stitches, her adviser. On one occasion her father listened in. Ellie noticed him when she heard his laugh.

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The Dwarf of Redfist
In his own words

I could best explain the night by comparing it to mine previous wife. Dark as her eyes, cold as her heart, and full of wind. The night’s wind howled something fierce that played tricks on the ears. Howling through the trees like the evilest of beasts. Although that bitch was back at home so I feared nothing out there in the wild. With no moon to light the way I had to rely on my superior Dwarven eye site, the likes not bested by any man or pansy tree dweller. You see mining ore and precious metals has its benefits deep in the Stovencart mountains. The Dwarven Stronghold of Redfist has produced more then just our legendary weapons and armor, aye, they are well known and a dwarf would not be without them, but Redfist Dwarves are harder then the metals we mine. A life of labor and pride under Stovencart has blessed us with the eyes of owls.

A dwarf of Redfist must make his name, one can be a blacksmith, a man of religion, or a mason. For me there are 2 things I am great at. Drinking but goes without say when I was a wii one instead of the teat of a mother I drank from stein of ale. Not this horse piss they pass off as “ale” I mean Real DWARVEN Ale. The other thing I’m good at is fightin. One must tread softly through the traps and tricks of politicians, put them on a battlefield though. My hammer has released many a man’s soul to the great beyond. Some for their homeland, some for their religion, some for not controlling their tongue, regardless they all deserved it. Since we’ve had so much peace in the kingdom my talents are wasted in the Stovencart.

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The Master Thrower
The Master Thrower

Direwolf

“EH! Keep those drinks comin’ and I’ll tell you the tale of the only apprentice I ever took in, than we’ll see if you still think you gots what it takes!”

Guff was a large man. Barbarian from the looks of him, human (from what you could tell), with a short temper and an abrasive look about him. The new would-be squire couldn’t help but notice Guff carried 4 rather heavy-looking throwing axes that hung from his animal hide belt. If he had shaved in the last month; it didn’t seem to have had much of a lasting effect, as you probably couldn’t get too close while shaving with an axe.

The young squire (Dan) nervously ran back carrying the drinks. Guff took a long chug before starting.

“So twas not but a few weeks ago at the Festival in Mordent, Like always there were plenty of these pansie knife twirling trick throwing kids trying to show off for one another, BAH!” spits on the floor “Damn kids couldn’t hit a dire-wolf at 5 yards.”

The barkeep raises an eyebrow when he sees someone spit on the floor, gets up to yell at him, when he sees he would rather not aggravate this dangerous looking criminal and goes back to polishing the steins.

“So there I was throwing me axes, the weapon of a real Master-Thrower.” hits his chest w/ his stein before polishing it off “and this pretty-boy paladin, in shiny armor, carrying way too many weapons to have any sort of chance at hittin shit, ya know not being able to move and all, approaches me boy here points to gork introduces himself as Azrayael, The Justice Bringer, and asks him about throwing weapons.”

Gork was a short fellow, even for a dwarf, not husky like most, and definitely lacking in the beard. There was a softer, kindness about Gork especially in comparison to this Burly scathed mad-man. Guff grabs another stein from the tray and takes a swig.

“I figure this kid is just like all the others, and would rather show-off than learn how to fight. So Gork here tells him to buy some Throwing Axes and come back tomorrow to let us see what hes got. First look of seein this guy throw, he hit the target twice on the outside and missed completely with the other two axes. Just as I thought, another waste o’ me time. Gork tells him go practice on some barrels for 5 days and come back. When the kid comes back he misses the first two and hits the last two.”

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Gus
Evil needs to make a living too

Gus waited across from “Greg’s Chicken shack” a meeting area they had agreed on previously. A moonless night and a desolate street soothed his nerves. He had escorted people into West End plenty of times yet the danger was still there. The Sisters would not be happy to know there was an underground way into their side of the city. Nor would the Chozen appreciate Gus using it for his own profit.

Originally used to drag passed out bar patrons to a life on the sea, it was now used to get between East and West end ever since the religious nuts took over the city. The main bridges across “The Gap”, (a huge natural chasm the town lovingly gets it’s name from) were locked down like a fortress. Zeak and his Chozen didn’t want anyone to come in and the Sisters didn’t want anyone going over there. So with no easy way from West end to east end and vice verse, there was a business opportunity for Gus.

Movement caught his eye down the street. A group of not so stealthy people.
“Sisters…” he groaned and slipped deeper into the shadows, waiting for them too pass. There were 4 of them, 2 covered in dark robes and 2 wearing full armor clanking along making a decent amount of noise. His current employers.

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Becna Prison Blues
Claudes Story Part 1

Joker

Claude sat comfortably in a chair, his legs propped up against the bars, a book on the history of Pelor in his hands. It was a well lit room with all of the accommodations one would expect from a cell. In the corner was a straw bed which was changed weekly with new sheets and bedding. A small table and chair for eating, and a small pile of books given to him by Seth due to his good behavior. His fellow prison mates were not so lucky.
Blake was curled up in the corner of his bed rocking back and forth pathetically. It was recently discovered he had murdered a bard out of jealousy. Claude had heard it was the Innkeeper’s daughter that had won his creepy lust. Besides the pathetic whimpering at night, he wasn’t too much of a bother.
The only other cell in the small prison room contained a much more troublesome captive. A hobgoblin named Krog. The leader of a local goblin outfit, he was charged with taking over the local mines. Not to mention, he killed all of the miners barring one. Quiet he was not. When he was not passed out snoring and making other bodily noises, he was awake and yelling. For some odd reason his captors felt the need to imprison him and give him a fair trial…. a courtesy his victims did not have. Which was all nice for the group that caught him, but they didn’t have to put up with the threats of violence during his every waking hour, only stopping to eat, sleep, or defecate (which he would throw). It was much nicer before he came in.
In the 2 and a half years Claude had stayed in his small cell, he hadn’t really had any other interactions outside of the guards. Blake was the first real prisoner. Occasionally Hadley the blacksmith would get a little to deep in his cups and end up in a cell till he sobered up but mostly Claude had the place to himself. He preferred it that way.

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