More from the Misadventurers! CAMPFIRE 3.3 Shortly after they agreed to seek the scared silver sickle as their quest, the party turned in, though the magically induced fire continued to burn warm and bright through the night. Several hours into the evening, Maximus felt something prodding his ribs and awoke with a start. There before him stood what looked to be the figure of the specter of death, pointing off into the distance. Max did a double take only to realize it was actually Arianrhod, or Ariana, as they decided to call her. “You nearly scared me to death woman!” he whispered coarsely. Again she pointed off in the distance and the wizard followed her finger. There were eyes in the forest, three sets, glowing green. Now she had his attention. “What are they?” The druid let her arm drop and shrugged casually. The thief was awake and on to what was happening, “Trouble, no doubt,” he whispered. Reginald reached slowly and carefully around to shake Derek awake, and clueless as usual, sat up an announced as loud as can be “Dude, is it morning already?” That is when the owners of the eyes charged from the trees and into the clearing. “Goblins!" squealed Lester. Three of the deep green skin breed were upon them brandishing crude scimitars. Their uncouth tongue pierced the midnight air. “So this is the source of light,” one garbled in near-common. “A beacon,” added another, “of our delight!” “Look at them all,” the third chimed in, “filled with fright.” Reginald made a quick note to self: no big campfires henceforth and added aloud, “And they rhyme!” Derek who apparently only slept in a loincloth gave a panicked shout, “What do I do?” “How should I know?” answered the bard. “I am not ready for this!” blurted Maximus, his knuckles white as he held his staff in a death grip. Usually adventurers responded with hate-filled challenges and promises of doom but this witty repartee was a complete surprise to the goblins. Bambi drew out two short swords and took a defensive position and with a quick, affirming nod, Reginald stepped beside her, daggers in each hand. “Shouldn’t we be in some kind of order?” asked Max. Ariana reached over and tapped Max’s Corvette. “Right,” he nodded. Suddenly picking up initiative he quickly cracked the butt end to the ground. The power of the Corvette staff took over and Max started racing around the camp, darting too and fro, moving faster than he ever had before. This too, the goblins noted, was a new and curious approach to melee. Must be that newfangled guerrilla warfare everyone was going on about. “My sword,” pleaded Derek. “Dudes, where did I leave my sword?” Lester lifted his lute to loose a lusty limerick and evaporated the party‘s panic. Everyone felt calm—brave even. With neither pomp nor circumstance, the druid raised her staff into the air calling forth roots from the ground to entwine and trap the goblins. This was their chance: Bambi and Reginald leapt forward driving home their blades into two otherwise bewildered enemies. But the third goblin had managed to free himself was about to flee. He cowered instead, for there before him in true herculean fashion, was Derek the Dangerous holding his great sword above his head, a detail the goblin noted one moment too late, which was the last thing to go through his mind. Maximus came to a speedy halt beside his friends, his cohorts, his new found battle brothers. “I trust we all gained experience from this encounter?”
Posted on: Wed, 26 Jun 2013 19:33:18 +0000
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