Game Three
posted in Giantfall |It’s late, but Brookes reminded me that I hadn’t posted anything about last week’s game. It went smoothly, except for Grim’s absence. He
was missed; he was able to play for a few hours, but had to return home. Grim, the game’s at your place this week, so I hope you’re home. 
I’m copying what I posted in the discussion section.
It’s an interesting reflection on gamers. I’ve been playing on and off with some of these guys for fifteen years; David Tubb and David Duncan, and Erich and Alli I’ve played with for probably ten. So I know they’re practiced. I shouldn’t be surprised when the first level rogue suggests we use the doorway to slow down our foes, or the first level sorceror proves to be adept at planning / reconnaissance. It’s because of the practice of the gamers- if I were to play with someone completely new to the scene, I’d be likely to get impatient and pushy (just roll the die, and Brookes will tell you if you hit, Do you think your rogue can sneak up there and scout it out?.) but then, I’m having a hard time with my little halfling bard and being useful. Something about halflings and usefulness (laugh).
ok here’s what happened…
(enter the wayback machine)
We’ve set up base in this small town; Kiksalu. Our base has been, not the chapel (which apparently has been abandoned, and was dedicated to Freya), but the house attached to the chapel, where we found a Thor’s hammer scratched into the wall and some holy water. Evenings have been quiet, mostly; that “thing” has been leaving us alone (the Thing-that-Grim-Annoyed).
We spent all of last game cleaning out the town; Eilidh has made a personal issue of cleaning out the fountain to Freya (uuuh, why again? Oh yeah, she’s a Freyyan Cleric), and enlisted the help of Balthor and Brand.
We entered a small house that was overgrown with blackberries, and were beset by a GIANT skeleton. When I say “we,” I mean Brand, who successfully blocked the path to the combat until he was defeated, rousted, rendered obsolete. Not dead, per se, but definately unconscious. Eilidh also found herself unconscious that battle. The skeleton was finally finished off by Balthor, Frosti and Grim (I pulled elves out and worked on staunching their bleeding). That battle wound up with us having to rest in the house for two days- long enough to go fairly bug-nuts. But having Eilidh unconscious really put a crimp in our exploring plans. (Can you imagine!? People refused to go look in other houses just because the cleric was out of commission!)
In the house, we found a small sealed surtur-symboled box; inside was a powdery dust, possibly the dust of the dead.
After Eilidh was revived, she spend the next day healing Brand; and the next day, we sallied forth and assailed the next few houses. We encountered a mess of rats- and wollopped em. Frosti and Balthor convinced us to stand outside the building and pick off the rats as they came out. This seemed surprisingly organized for such a chaotic^H^H^H^H^H^Hheadstrong crew. But it worked; no casualties, and many dead rats. They had no treasure.
We found, also, what was apparently the butcher shop. Entering this building, we discovered that the cellar had collapsed and for some weird reason was filled with water. As it turns out, the cellar was filled to the rim because of an uncapped everflowing decanter which Rosco has pocketted, the cellar was the lair of a giant frog. It could have eaten Rosco, and almost did, except for the quick thinking of Frosti and Balthor, who nearly severed the (ugh) tongue. After the frog was defeated (I only know what happed because of the screams; I left the building after I was nearly frogfood), Balthor went swimming in the water, and found a secret cache, beneath the butcher’s block. In there, was what we believe to be the eye of a god, a huge ruby (?ruby?).
We had a confusing, emotional scene where Brand threatened to destroy one or the other of the dust or gem, but eventually he was reined in and seems to be complaisant now.
Actually two scenes. He’s a maniac.
Then, we explored what appears to be the last building of this small town; and I rode a rope into the dark basement below. I tripped over one of those feathered guys- dead. (Frosti reminded me that this body was in the exact center of the room; and searching nearby revealed a stone with Surtur’s flame on it.) He had an interesting black/white/yellow feather combination, but interest in the feathers was overridden by his apparent raison de’ corpeum… flapping death, flying on the wings of disgust; stirges sucked his blood. And they came after us too. I’ve been drained, and we killed the six of them pretty much cleanly afterwards.
Note: a stirge is a flying thing like a cross between a mosquito and a bat. They’re about softball sized and have six legs. They suck your blood, you lose strength. A nest of six stirges can seriously ruin your day.
