DF Novices, Team-A, Session 51 - Diary of Yorgen Gant
We played last Tuesday. Here is an in-character report for the last session from the player of Yorgen. As always, I am giving out an Impulse Point to any player who writes a summary for the blog.
Party roster:
Ben, half-ogre barbarian, 132 points (PC)
Doran Longbeard, dwarf knight, 162 points (PC)
Eleanor Bayley, human thief, 191 points (PC)
- Dagne, human cleric, 125 points (NPC Hireling)
Erizax Ofaris, human wizard, 195 points (PC)
Randall, human veteran, 135 points (NPC)
Yorgen Gant, human knight (squire), 91 points (PC)
Ulokk, half-ogre thief, 85 points (NPC)
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Diary of Yorgen Gant:
Never judge by appearance. Never form your opinion until some time has passed and always, at all times, be ready to be proven wrong. This is a lesson that Ser Landonn has taught me repeatedly, and which I have always attempted to take to heart. I remember the lesson well, since it was accompanied by a thorough hiding after offending a member of our host's retinue, and followed as it was by my very public apology a short while later. Despite my fervent hope that the ground would swallow me whole after that seeming humiliation, they did prove me wrong in the end. Very wrong indeed. And yet here I am, again, violating this most basic of tenets taught to me by my knight.
Has Bergholdt soured me so much towards my fellow warriors? I must remember that, simply because my first impression of that snake was correct in hindsight, the exception does not negate the lesson. Test my patience and capacity to give the benefit of the doubt? That it has. But I will not allow Bergholdt to destroy yet another for whatever twisted reasons he may hold, and keep firmly in mind that Ser Landonn cautioned me to give all the chance to prove themselves honourable.
Doran... master dwarf, I owe you an apology. And when this battle is done, you will have it. Publicly.
But before I once more allow myself to be swept away by musings of chivalry, I must remember to chronicle the fight in which the incident which so opened my eyes took place.
That the goblin archers were fleeing from our onslaught was plain to see. They ceased their attempts at coming at us with their knives, and instead ran as fast as their legs would carry them, off into the darkness. Wary of being lured by these creatures into yet another ambush, I called to Doran to let them go and go assist our companions who, from the sound of things, were still being hard pressed. As I hastened back as fast as my burdens would allow, I could see Dagne who had the wits to point me to a side corridor, and which I entered at pace. For a moment, all I could see was Ben crouching in a roughly hewn tunnel far too small for his impressive height, and then I became aware of a heavily wounded goblin attempting to fight my companion. I lost not time and barely checked my pace as I launched myself into this fray, which was comprehensively decided within moments as the goblin simply keeled over and died from its injuries. With the sound of battle around me, and more enemies fleeing before us, my mind was almost instantly transported to distant battlefields as I gave chase.
So far into my battle meditation was I that I shouted in the courtly language for my companions to step aside and make way, imagining myself for a moment surrounded by knights and squires locked in a struggle against a greater foe. I cannot tell if any of them heeded or even understood my words, but Ulokk roared something at the goblin they were fighting, and the creature dropped its weapons and cowered away from us.
By then the other goblins were long gone, and there was nothing to be gained by chasing after them through this dark labyrinth, knowing that they knew this warren much better than any of us, and were undoubtedly falling back to the next ambush position. Instead I rounded on the cowering goblin and requrested that Ulokk translate my words into its barbarous tongue. I gave the goblin the ultimatum of Vae Victis. Leave, immediately and permanently, or be slaughtered. I made it clear this extended to its entire clan.
Ulokk must have translated well, because mere moments later the goblin scrambled away like a startled hare, leaving his weapons behind.
Before the group could dissolved into indecision, I joined Eleanor in taking charge and deciding upon our next immediate action. This was to open the nearest door, secure the room beyond, and rest there for some time. A welcome suggestion, I hold, because my stamina is assuredly beginning to flag. No lazy slouch am I, but chasing goblins at a dead run while carrying campaigning provisions does take a toll. Giving others no time to countermand or even question, Eleanor requested that Ulokk open the door close by, and I volunteered to be the first one through. As I stepped through, however, I found that the stygian darkness before me was not being illuminated by the light coming from my now enchanted shield. Unwilling to fight an unknown enemy in total darkness, I swiftly steppd back out of the room and instructed Ulokk to lock it again. In my haste, I was undoubtely too high handed with my stalward friend, for that too he will have my apologies. But only at battle's end, and it swiftly became clear that this battle was not yet over.
From the corridor out of which we had to recently charged, came the sound of steps. Nearby, too, more enemies were clearly approaching from all directions. Again I reformed our battle line and led them back into the corridor where we had so swiftly seen off the goblin archers, ready to teach those foul creatures the folly of trying to ambush us twice from the same position, when we suddenly beheld a cohort of undead.
No goblins or orcs these, but humans. Or what I presume from closer inspection had once been humans. Rather than the armoured foes we had so recently been fighting, these undead were clad only in civilian garb, each hefting a pick with some ease. Miners then... and I will admit that for a moment I looked around fearing to see the undead visage of Rodor staring at me with a accusing eyes. But if any of these unfortunate shambling fiends were once our old acquaintances, then time and the foul magics of their reanimation has destroyed all they once were, and I could not tell one from the other.
For any who have never fought a foe armed with a pick, and who dismiss the weapon as the last resort of an angry mob, let me enlighten you. Tools designed to smash open rock make formidable weapons when wielded by those used to their weight, especially against shields and metal armour. This Ben found out to his cost as he put a shield between himself and his enemy's pick, only to have the weapon smash through the wood and lodge itself there. Rather then shield than his torso, naturally, but the better option is always to deflect the blow away with the flat of your blade. Respect those weapons which were once tools... they are often excellent in both roles, and their wielders can be as dangerous as any foe you would care to name.
As we fight these undead, I become aware that more fighting is breaking out behind us, and there is suddenly an effusion of heat and light, as if a great fire has been lit. Seeing no signs of panic in my companions, and knowing that we are accompanied by an accomplished mage, I ignored these distressing signs for a far more worrysome duo of developments.
One was the sudden comment from my friend Ulokk that this was not looking good. Even my joking response that we have had worse fell on deaf ears, and it seems my companion is becoming increasingly concerned. That is not welcome news, I may assure you. When Ulokk begins to fret, there is reason to fret. 'You lie', he said to which I replied 'Aye, but only in the particulars'. Let it not be said that I do not have a sense of humour in dire circumstances.
And circumstances were certainly becoming dire, for as we were finishing off our undead foes, what would appear beyond them but an undead.. thing. Once a hobgoblin, I warrant, but its appearance seemed to stir up my companions into some sort of frenzy, as if they recognised this foe. It is then that this undead monstrosity struck at me with a two handed battle axe, and had it not been for the swift reaction of Doran, I would now be bleeding away my life's essence in the dark recesses of that mine.
Seeing the flash of the weapon, knowing that my own sword was engaged and unable to bring up my shield in defense, the shadow of Doran's shield suddenly fell upon me, and interposed itself between myself and the axe. So astonished was I that I could not think of an appropriate expression, but I vow here and now to reward Doran for that heroic action when next we return to town. Not only will he have my apologies, but rest assured my dwarven friend that the first round is on me.
As the undead numbers began to dwindle, I became concerned how we could fight them and the undead hobgoblin with that formidable reach at the same time, the magnificent attempts of Ben to do exactly that notwithstanding. But I should not have worried overmuch. Even as the thought stole over me that this fight could indeed become problematic, who would step up behind me but Eleanor? For a moment she seemed to freeze, and then her unerring aim took the undead hobgoblin clean in the head. As if poleaxed, the monster fell and I do not expect it to rise again. Never again will I tease you Eleanor, on this you have my word.
Now all it appeared necessary to do was to finish off the undead ahead of us, when there suddenly came a hue and cry from behind me. My companions have seen something that has startled them, aye, and startled them to the verge of panic. They cry for Eleanor, for Eleanor to reload, for Eleanor to reload quickly.
Whatever has vexed them so I cannot imagine, but I must take action soon to prevent this panic from spreading, and turning this battle into a complete rout.
By all the gods, but what is happening behind me?!
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