Lofty felt that sick and Galdor Nightmeadow noticed that his friend was ill, gut-churning sensation once more, an ever-present reminder of how high up he stood on the Tower’s edge. The feeling gnawed at him as if he hadn’t eaten for days, or weeks even. It had all started soon after leaving Neverwinter. Steeling himself, Lofty glanced below, where the battle raged on.
Galdor Nightmeadow, the Elven Cleric, was locked in fierce combat with an Orc, his blade flashing under the grim sky. Astrid, the nimble monk, took advantage of her temporary freedom from battle and darted towards the building used by the Orcs as living quarters. Lofty, ever vigilant, maintained his watch atop the Tower, his keen eyes scanning the scene below.
The noise of Orcish voices reached his ears as they smashed through the trap door to the chamber of Grimish, the fearsome cleric of the Eye of Gruumsh. The Orcs’ guttural cries filled the air, and Lofty readied his flask of oil with a rag wick, prepared to rain fire upon them if needed.
Grimish, Cleric of the Orc Eye of Gruumsh
Galdor Nightmeadow quickly dispatched his orc adversary, drawing his longbow with practiced ease. Astrid, peeking into the orc quarters, spied three orcs gathered around a table, listening intently to a larger, more commanding figure. Lofty’s ears caught the sound of chopping as one of the orcs within the Tower began to smash the trap door leading to the roof.
Near the southwest corner of the courtyard, Galdor kept his distance, an arrow imbued with the spell of Silence nocked and ready, careful not to interfere with Astrid’s reconnaissance. The door to the Tower burst open, and an armoured orc, wielding javelins and a Greataxe, charged at Galdor. The elf met the onslaught with his longsword, and the song of steel rang out once more.
Astrid crouched behind crates and barrels, a shadow among shadows. Two orcs, armed and armoured, emerged from the quarters and made their way into the Tower, oblivious to the halfling monk. Hot on their heels was Brughor Axe-Biter, the commander of the orc band of Wyvern Tor.
Lofty waited for Glador’s signal, then loosed an arrow from his shortbow, striking an orc with precision. Glador’s blade found its mark, felling another orc, though not before one managed to land a blow on the elf cleric’s forearm.
Astrid sprang from her hiding spot, aiming to take Brughor by surprise. The orc commander, however, was not so easily fooled. They clashed, weapons biting into flesh. Astrid, calling upon her training, unleashed a flurry of blows, her strikes swift and sure. Brughor staggered under the assault, but still, he fought on.
Above, the trap door gave way, and Lofty hurled his flaming flask into the lower floor. Flames whooshed up, and the panicked cries of orcs filled the air. Lofty quickly hid himself among the Tower’s crenelations as the orcs rushed to the roof. Failing to spot the hidden Halfling, they peered over the edge, oblivious to his presence.
Leif ‘Lofty’ Bilberry
Galdor, his last orc opponent defeated, sprinted to Astrid’s aid. The monk’s relentless attacks finally overcame Brughor’s defences. The orc commander fell beneath her furious blows.
Lofty, hearing the trap door splinter, descended swiftly, slipping through an unbarred window into Grimish’s chamber on the third floor. The orcs above had little time before the roof would be fully aflame. He called out to Astrid in Halfling, urgently requesting her aid on the first floor.
As Lofty turned, an orc hurled a javelin at him. The projectile missed, and Lofty, with a mocking bow, scampered down the stairs. One of the orcs from the quarters dashed out of the Tower, a large sack over his shoulder, and fled into the night.
From his perch, Lofty spotted the fleeing orc and called down to Galdor to give chase. Astrid intercepted the orcs on the stairs, her rapid strikes keeping them at bay. Lofty, his shortbow ready, felled the two orcs with precision, their earlier burns weakening them.
Galdor pursued the fleeing orc, who attempted to hide among the bushes. The elf’s longbow sang, and the orc fell, wounded but alive. Galdor, disliking unnecessary death, knocked the orc out cold.
The adventurers gathered the orc bodies, searched them, and built a pyre to burn the foul creatures. They inventoried their spoils: coins, perfumes, cleric scrolls, and Grimish’s treasures. Galdor cast Detect Magic, ensuring nothing of value was overlooked.
Galdor even finds that the Topaz Gem, which he took from one of the Bugbears in the Redbrands hideout in Deadwood, had Magical properties.
Lofty attunes with the Belt of Dwarvenkind after discovering its powers whilest dreaming of Deadwood.
- Belt of Dwarvenkind – Darkvision 60’ – Speak-Read-Write Dwarvish – Advantage Vs Poison Saving Throws & Resistance to Poison.
- Treasure chest – 750 cp, 280 sp, 92 ep, 130 gp, and 3 vials of perfume (25 gp each).
- Grimish Cleric Scrolls x3 – Cure Wounds 1st – Sanctuary 1st – Enhance Ability 2nd
- Grimish’s Items – Coral Necklace x3 (30gp) – Gold Signet Ring x4 (10gp)
- Topaz Gem – Spell Gem – DC of 17 and an attack bonus of +10 – Contain any 1 Spell – If higher level then DC equals 10 + the spell’s level
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the rugged terrain, Galdor moved with purpose, guiding their borrowed horses to the makeshift camp. The steeds, hardy and resilient, had seen many battles, and tonight they would rest as their riders prepared for the trials yet to come.
In the gathering dusk, Astrid and Lofty busied themselves with scavenging what meagre provisions they could find. Lofty, ever the stalwart warrior, tried to swallow a mouthful of the coarse bread they had procured. His stomach rebelled against the unpalatable fare, and he discreetly spat it out, determined to keep his discomfort from his sister. “She will only worry”. he mused silently, “and surely it is merely the poor quality of the food, nothing more sinister than that”.
Astrid Bilberry
Galdor’s return brought a wave of relief. The Elven healer moved with a serene grace, his presence a balm to their weary spirits. With a touch of his hand and a murmur of ancient incantations, he invoked the power of Cure Wounds, mending their injuries with a warm, golden light. The adventurers settled into a brief but rejuvenating respite, the soft glow of their campfire warding off the encroaching darkness.
Lofty, now feeling the restorative effects of the Magic performed by Galdor Nightmeadow, joined his companions for a hearty meal. The warmth of camaraderie and the shared relief of survival lent flavor to their simple fare, and they ate with the gusto of those who had stared death in the face and lived to tell the tale.
Galdor Nightmeadow
As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, casting a pale glow on their determined faces, the party mounted their horses. With renewed vigor, they set out towards Deadwood, the ominous forest looming in the distance. Laden with hard-won treasure, crucial information, and their orc captive, they were ready to face whatever challenges awaited them. Each step brought them closer to their destiny, and the air hummed with the promise of adventure and the whisper of dangers yet to be revealed.