The Valley of Oosular

Chapter One: Befriending Goblins, Killing Orcs
That's Some Good Footweave Man...

The party was getting to know each other and enjoy a drink at the Rot Grub (except for Castigere, who stated in no uncertain that an Eldrich Knight of Nokoyia does NOT drink), when they overheard some miners on the next table discussing a haunted mine. Some aggressive negotiations ensued including some intimidating glares from Tin, but they eventually convinced one of the miners to pay them to retrieve the body of his friend from said haunted mine.

Around this time Trov Ironroot returned with a friend, Norvik the half-orc blacksmith whose daughter Tama was was kidnapped! They together offer the PC’s a large sum of money for her safe return. The PC’s couldn’t say no to such a noble endeavor (with a pile of gold), and set out immediately to track down the orcs at night.

Tin had better luck than his cooshee, and tracked the offenders to a ransacked farm (complete with dead farmer) and followed the trail past the farm to a pair of arguing orcs. Cas boldly charged into the fray (For Nokoyia!), and with Jesca’s hexing and cackling, and Palmer’s mighty kung-fu, the group soon dispatched those two plus two more, freeing little Tama, her friend, and the dead farmer’s wife. Jesca quickly patched them up, and they were brought back to town.

After being showered with gold, the heroes set out for the mine to retrieve Menic, the dead miner, from the supposed haunted mine. Once inside they met three goblins stoned off their noggins on the hallucinogenic “footweave”. The PC’s watched as two of them learned a lesson about playing with dynamite while stoned. The surviving goblin, Ikik, befriended Tin, and lead the heroes to the goblin layer. Both Palmer the dwarf and Cas were mortified that they were doing anything with goblins other than killing them. Once at the layer, and faced with about 30 armed goblins, Tin did some quick talking and convinced the goblin chief to let them pass in the cave.

The party quickly found where the miners had broken into an underground structure, and leading the way in the name of the Empire, Cas dispatched a flaming skull guarding the entrance. Once inside the main structure, the group did some looking around and deciphered what they believed to be an earth and fire symbol and writing across the walls in the ancient script, part of it repeating over and over “I command water air fire earth”. Entering the earth room, the party found an amulet and an armored sand golem. While the party attacked it with fists, fires, and hexes, Cas used the amulet and the command from the previous room to get the golem to stand down and dissipate.

continued in next week’s eposide

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Prelude
Arrival in the town of Boulorn

“Its been almost a hundred years since orcs threatened the valley”, Trov Ironroot, an old dwarven merchant riding with your caravan sighed and looked up at the gathering dusk, “Vosh willing their numbers are small and it’ll be more than a hundred before they show their faces again.” With his long white beard wove into two thick braids tied with copper rings, and grizzled windblown face, Trov looked more than old enough to have seen, and maybe even fought in, the previous invasion.

The conversation had been a welcome diversion from an otherwise uneventful trip from Tandor to Boulorn, a small mining and farming town in route to the great port city of Vallandro. It took the caravan 4 days to travel the distance, and with the bulk of the King’s Army manning the Great Wall, it was a tense journey. The caravan owner, a fat and middle-aged human by the name of Urvic Jondo hired some muscle and magic for protection. His plans were to take the caravan all the way to Vallandro, at least a couple of weeks travel with the slow moving carts. You are a part of the hired protection.

That was the plan anyway. Trov had just finished a bawdy tale about two halflings an a blind orc when a whistling sound passed your ear. Sling stone! Another flew past and hit one of the drivers who yelled out in pain. Then came the arrows as people scrambled for cover.

Goblins! You heard someone yell — and you realized you should have been paying more attention. The route had just passed into a forested hilly area that in retrospect was perfect for an ambush. Along with your fellow mercenaries, you ready your weapon and leap from the cart to fight off the goblins. The battle was short, the goblins were not expecting much resistance and broke quickly. The damage however had been done as flames from burning arrows consumed one cart full of merchandise.

Urvic sat in the back of one of the surviving carts wincing in pain, a large welt on his leg. His plump sweaty palms desperately groping in a burgundy silk bag he carried on his person. Eventually they found a small vial of liquid. Downing it, the minor injury quickly healed and with a sigh he looked relieved. His relief quickly turned to anger.

“You call that protection… you’re all Fired!” He looked up at the men driving the carts. “Driver! You, the one awake, how far are we from Boulorn?”
“‘bout few ’ours I would guess m’lord.”
“Fine.” Urvic struggled momentarily to sit up, helped by his personal bodyguard, a large and over-muscled hobgoblin named Eron, and looked over to you and the rest of the mercenaries, “I will pay you to Boulorn, if you are lucky. But then I better not see your faces again!”
You were about to protest, after all you did fight off the ambush at personal risk, the but the look from Eron made you reconsider.

In town that evening, you and the other newly unemployed henchmen decided to meet for drinks at a local tavern, the Rot Grub. You’re not sure what to do at the moment. You are stuck in a smallish town of a few thousand without a horse or the means to procure one.

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