Wednesday, April 13, 2011

The Rescue of What's-Her-Name: Part 4

Coryn quickly ran to Bobbin’s side, dropping to his knees beside the prostrate halfling. Gripping his holy symbol with his left hand and laying his right on his friend’s chest, he began chanting a prayer of healing, which sounded suspiciously like “Woolly Bully.” As his chant neared its end, he pulled a die from his pouch and rolled it.

“A six, you got lucky,” he said, as the halfling’s eyes fluttered open. “How many HPs does everyone have left?” he asked the group.

“Twenty-one,” Lars said, as he began rifling through the dead orcs’ pouches.

“Seven of twenty three,” Rallis said.

“Two,” Bobbin groaned.

“I’m good,” Melkor said, stepping out from where he’d been hiding.

“Pansy,” Lars said. “You always run and hide.”

“Hey, you try living with fourteen hit points and see how much melee you get into,” said the mage.

Tamra was looking at a piece of paper she’d pulled from her backpack. “Where’re hit points written again?”

“I’ll show her,” Melkor volunteered.

Rallis glanced up from where he was sitting. “Why don’t you two help Lars search the bodies while everyone else gets healed.”

“Roger.”

Tamra made a face. “Ewww.”

“It’s easy,” Melkor said. “Just grab any nice jewelry or weapons and go through their pouches.”

“Dibs on any magic weapons,” Lars said.

“Oh, shut up,” Coryn said, as he launched into “Woolly Bully” again.

So, in short order, bodies were searched, party members were healed, spells were memorized, Lars got a soda, and Bobbin went to the bathroom. Once he returned, everyone got back up and shouldered their packs.

“They ran off that way,” Rallis said, pointing to the south. “Their village is probably over there. Let’s cut through the forest.”

“Good idea,” Melkor said. “By-the-by, did the shaman do anything during the fight?”

Everyone glanced at each other.

“Don’t think so,” Bobbin said.

“Hmmm, he’s probably setting a trap at the village. We should be careful.”

“Right, everyone keep their eyes open,” Rallis said. “Put the magazine down, Bobbin.”

After getting everyone into marching order, the ranger led the way through the forest, pausing every so often to check for tracks. Each party member crept carefully along, eyes intent on the surrounding woods. No orcs were seen, though Lars had to be prevented from attacking a squirrel, which he claimed was ‘eyeing’ him. Oddly enough, after that, no more squirrels or wildlife of any kind were seen.

After a good twenty minutes, Rallis rolled well enough to notice a thin thread of smoke in the distance. They advanced even more cautiously now, ready to pounce on any bush large enough to hide an orc. They soon found signs of habitation, broken twigs, trees that had been felled for firewood, obvious tracks, and the occasional candy wrapper.

Everyone could now easily see the tops of huts only a couple dozen yards away, just outside the tree line, but there was no movement at all.

“I don’t like it,” Coryn whispered. “This is definitely a trap.”

The ranger nodded. “Agreed. What does everyone want to do? No, Lars,” he quickly added. “We’re not just rushing in there.”

Lars said something under his breath.

“Lemme scout a bit,” Bobbin said. “Maybe I can find where they’re keeping what’s-her-name.”

“What is her name?” Tamra asked.

All the men looked at one another.

“I don’t remember,” Coryn said.

“Me neither,” Melkor and Bobbin said simultaneously.

“Who cares?” said Lars.

“Jeez, guys,” Rallis said. “Didn’t anybody write it down?”

There was a great deal of paper shuffling and digging into backpacks.

“Uhh . . . I got the magic word that activates that elevator thingy in that undead guy’s tower,” Bobbin said.

The ranger rubbed his temples. “Great, thanks. Did anybody write down her name?”

“Why didn’t you?” Lars said.

Rallis held up a piece of graph paper. “I map, remember?”

Eventually, it was determined that no one knew the name of the lord’s daughter they were hired to rescue on the promise of five hundred gold pieces, but they had written down several other helpful things, including the phone number of the pizza place that delivered.

“Fine,” Melkor finally said. “We’ll just call her ‘What’s-her-name’ for now. She can tell us when we’ve rescued her.”

“Whatever. Yes, Bobbin, go scout,” Rallis said.

2 comments:

Ed said...

“Hey, you try living with fourteen hit points and see how much melee you get into,” said the mage.

For what it's worth, in one of the campaigns I played in, I had a mage who, at level 6, would routinely tank despite only having single digits HPs.

Now, to be fair, this was my most frequently resurrected character, and the character sheet did make mention of his insanity. Unfortunately, the character sheets of everyone else in the party failed to mention their insanity.

Jason Janicki said...

Level 6 and only single digit hit points? You must've rolled extremely badly.

I'm not surprised that was your most resurrected character. You should have insisted on getting a free set of steak knives or something for your tenth resurrection :)