Now I ain't a superstitious bird, but I can certainly entertain the odd flight o' fancy should the opportunity strike me. The Castle Calaelen rock has had a fair pile o' deed-holders. Some o' them are long-lived folk who fell upon desperate times and needed the gold in a pinch, or foolhardy hatchwits who pissed their gold away and used it to settle a mean gamblin' debt. Some o' them also gotta be dead, the rock's so old, and if those departed souls bothered to turn from whatever fancy afterlives they got and take a glance at their old keep, well I'd say that maybe they'd be a mite entertained today.
I ain't gonna lie it weren't pretty or glorious or like any elabourate yarn weaved by some king's royal bard. It was a bird and his eight-strong posse clobberin' the ever-lovin' shit outta some muckdwellin' kobolds and gnolls. And that's gotta be more blood-boilin' and excitin' than some deadswill dead-party packed with dead folk reminiscin' on how they died.
On the ride to the castle we spied this dank cave. The half-orc, the dwarf and the catfolk were all over that like it weren't no-one's business. When you're itchin' for a scrap I guess you just gotta scratch it, even when it's stirges. I went to oversee how this adventurous spirit would fly. Sure, the paladin mighta tried to swat the stirge latchin' onto his face with his hammer, and actually succeeded, but ultimately they all made a short bloody job o' the bugs and found a good spot o' coin amongst their litter. All smeared in bugshit o' course but coin is coin.
The next tussle was with them rude nasty gnolls guardin' the entrance o' my rightful castle. The faces on those mangy fur-chewers when they got acquainted with the business end o' my gun were precious. Finally got to see some o' the spell-slingers liftin' their fingers, addin' magic missiles and lightnin' bolts to the barrage. The half-orc got himself in a bit o' a precarious dance near the fine edge o' the bridge, but overall none too shabby. That's the last time any o' those gnolls will have the gizzard to tell a bird to get bent, on account o' them bein' dead.
Somethin' up in the most dilapidated tower screeched somethin' ghastly durin' that fray. Turns out it was a monster o' a crow with demons in its blood. O' course the new recruits took a moment to note the likeness between it and yours truly, but what's a bird to do. Certainly not make rude comments about the thing's devil mother, that's for sure. I know how mine can get.
One by dog-faced one the posse and I either scattered or slaughtered the kobolds holin' up in Calaelen itself. Lead by some delusional yippin' rat bastard by the name o' Jibjack, they got themselves set up in what might've been the original dining room o' the castle. What do you know, kobolds got themselves names now.
The resultin' scrap weren't our best. Agamemnon got himself all tangled in a net almost immediately, cuttin' him right out. Amerasu seemed to have contracted some nasty case o' missin-every-fuckin'-thing-she-aimed-at. Shnookums must've gotten himself all confused now that the enemy weren't on his face anymore- I had to get in there personally and behead Jibjack myself. However the sorcerors well and truly held their own against the kobolds' slings, as did Jax with a dagger in each hand and a backflip in each foot. The little rats were inaccurate with their weapons like you wouldn't believe, but as my keelbone will attest, when they hit, they hit good.
Havin' gone and murdered little Jibjack at that point we quite certain we had run all the unwelcome blighters clean out o' the castle. Had our guards down and our stupids up. A kobold cleric with an angry black mace and some skeletal underlin's in tow got the drop on us whilst Jax was failin' to get the master roost door open. I know I'm payin' Jax for somethin', but it ain't lock-fussin' for almost half an hour and still failin' to get inside without a key. The changelin' sorceror took the brunt o' the ambush, and by brunt I mean the roughest skeleton o' the pack with nasty ol' greatsword right to the face. The fragile thing was knocked out and dyin' instantly. I swear I was that close dockin' that damn river pirate's pay for all this mess, but then he almost literally danced past the undead and took the fight to the mean ol' boss man himself. Well, the mean ol' boss lizard at the very least.
It was lookin' right grim in the middle there, but after takin' out a small skeleton the rest o' them fell, and the big nasty bag o' bones quite nearly exploded on its own once the cleric was taken care of. Agamemnon got in and stabilized the changelin' in time. Jax's fussin' might've gotten us into deep trouble, but I'll gotta hand it to him, his smart tactics dragged the lot o' us out again mostly intact.
Overall, we cleared the flea-bitten varmints out o' the Calaelen rock, and no one done fucked up hard enough to get anyone killed for real. A part o' me hopes that once all the evil shrines, debris, and bodies are cleaned out the castle will start lookin' like a castle, but rest o' me knows that I'm more likely just gonna find more shit under all that shit. At least the smithy's in full workin' order, and I have some semi-reliable recruits to help get this business venture in the air.
I ain't gonna lie it weren't pretty or glorious or like any elabourate yarn weaved by some king's royal bard. It was a bird and his eight-strong posse clobberin' the ever-lovin' shit outta some muckdwellin' kobolds and gnolls. And that's gotta be more blood-boilin' and excitin' than some deadswill dead-party packed with dead folk reminiscin' on how they died.
On the ride to the castle we spied this dank cave. The half-orc, the dwarf and the catfolk were all over that like it weren't no-one's business. When you're itchin' for a scrap I guess you just gotta scratch it, even when it's stirges. I went to oversee how this adventurous spirit would fly. Sure, the paladin mighta tried to swat the stirge latchin' onto his face with his hammer, and actually succeeded, but ultimately they all made a short bloody job o' the bugs and found a good spot o' coin amongst their litter. All smeared in bugshit o' course but coin is coin.
The next tussle was with them rude nasty gnolls guardin' the entrance o' my rightful castle. The faces on those mangy fur-chewers when they got acquainted with the business end o' my gun were precious. Finally got to see some o' the spell-slingers liftin' their fingers, addin' magic missiles and lightnin' bolts to the barrage. The half-orc got himself in a bit o' a precarious dance near the fine edge o' the bridge, but overall none too shabby. That's the last time any o' those gnolls will have the gizzard to tell a bird to get bent, on account o' them bein' dead.
Somethin' up in the most dilapidated tower screeched somethin' ghastly durin' that fray. Turns out it was a monster o' a crow with demons in its blood. O' course the new recruits took a moment to note the likeness between it and yours truly, but what's a bird to do. Certainly not make rude comments about the thing's devil mother, that's for sure. I know how mine can get.
One by dog-faced one the posse and I either scattered or slaughtered the kobolds holin' up in Calaelen itself. Lead by some delusional yippin' rat bastard by the name o' Jibjack, they got themselves set up in what might've been the original dining room o' the castle. What do you know, kobolds got themselves names now.
The resultin' scrap weren't our best. Agamemnon got himself all tangled in a net almost immediately, cuttin' him right out. Amerasu seemed to have contracted some nasty case o' missin-every-fuckin'-thing-she-aimed-at. Shnookums must've gotten himself all confused now that the enemy weren't on his face anymore- I had to get in there personally and behead Jibjack myself. However the sorcerors well and truly held their own against the kobolds' slings, as did Jax with a dagger in each hand and a backflip in each foot. The little rats were inaccurate with their weapons like you wouldn't believe, but as my keelbone will attest, when they hit, they hit good.
Havin' gone and murdered little Jibjack at that point we quite certain we had run all the unwelcome blighters clean out o' the castle. Had our guards down and our stupids up. A kobold cleric with an angry black mace and some skeletal underlin's in tow got the drop on us whilst Jax was failin' to get the master roost door open. I know I'm payin' Jax for somethin', but it ain't lock-fussin' for almost half an hour and still failin' to get inside without a key. The changelin' sorceror took the brunt o' the ambush, and by brunt I mean the roughest skeleton o' the pack with nasty ol' greatsword right to the face. The fragile thing was knocked out and dyin' instantly. I swear I was that close dockin' that damn river pirate's pay for all this mess, but then he almost literally danced past the undead and took the fight to the mean ol' boss man himself. Well, the mean ol' boss lizard at the very least.
It was lookin' right grim in the middle there, but after takin' out a small skeleton the rest o' them fell, and the big nasty bag o' bones quite nearly exploded on its own once the cleric was taken care of. Agamemnon got in and stabilized the changelin' in time. Jax's fussin' might've gotten us into deep trouble, but I'll gotta hand it to him, his smart tactics dragged the lot o' us out again mostly intact.
Overall, we cleared the flea-bitten varmints out o' the Calaelen rock, and no one done fucked up hard enough to get anyone killed for real. A part o' me hopes that once all the evil shrines, debris, and bodies are cleaned out the castle will start lookin' like a castle, but rest o' me knows that I'm more likely just gonna find more shit under all that shit. At least the smithy's in full workin' order, and I have some semi-reliable recruits to help get this business venture in the air.
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