Conan: To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentation of their women.
Lurch (Fricko) Samgood, Fricko.
FYI: Samgood is a Lurch clone, created to assist my elderly brain and stiff fingers in learning to play the complex and clickie rich Paladin class. Fricko the Fried Friar is simply an experiment in the PnP style of 50/50 Rogue/Cleric split. All Alts will hopefully provide a means assisting in "Catch-up" duties, and lifting Guild Favor in the process of playing them.
So uh. Having read over the thread twice, I can't quite tell whether there's one group or two, or one big one that splits into two. And what night(s) you play. But either way, I'd be interested in joining! The only stumbling block might be that I don't get home until about 7:15-7:25 Eastern on weekdays.
I recently re-sub'd, after about 4 years away, but even back then I only ever ran stuff like 2 or 3 times, I just didn't have the time.
If you guys are interested in another to join, please let me know, or I'll try to bump into someone online. I'd be interested in playing a caster, but whether a good ol' fashioned cleric, or maybe a sorcerer might depend which you have more of. Just don't ask me to be the guy swinging weapons.. how MUNDANE!
I actually have veteran status either from years ago, or one of the expansions I bought yesterday, so could start a character at 4 to join right up (he'd just a be a bit under-equipped to start, I think).
Last edited by Shallan_Almarr; 11-23-2013 at 07:07 PM.
We meet on Sundays, we are a guild that runs together, have enough bodies for 2 groups ( don't think they are full 6 man groups). If you are interested we will meet tonight ( sunday nov 24) at 7 pm est., as long as no DDO problems.
Shuvall's group did pretty well with Lost Seekers last night.
Shuvall (cleric 5)
Intyrr (wizard 5)
Dak (sorcerer 4?)
Dallog (barbarian 5)
Leapfroggin' Lurch (zerger 5)
We did pretty well navigating the traps without a rogue. I think we only had two deaths. Once when Dak got too close to the acid trap in part one while Dallog was trying to 'coax' a kobold through it to set it off, and once when Lurch miscalculated the distance to the poison traps in part 3 (to great comic effect).
Resist acid, a potion of protection from acid, uncanny dodge, and some lucky rolls got Dallog past the acid corridor without taking any damage.
We got really lucky with chest rolls and bagged around 8 chests on the night. Dallog got a +2 con belt from a breakable and a nice +1 greataxe of bloodletter I from the hobgoblin chest. Worst end reward evar! +1 bracers of insight. It was between that and the guard killer bow, but Dallog doesn't want to waste MLs on a bow.
There was some mention of holding back from taking level 6 until after running Catacombs, but why? Why do we need to hold any levels? The only thing we lose from running it on elite at level 6 is the bravery bonus, and it won't even interrupt the streak, so what is the rationale for waiting to level?
Deacon was not paying attention and is already 6th level.
Missed Sunday because of family, and it looks like the next month is also going to be very tough to commit to Sunday evening. I don't want to be the missing leader and I have always had a great time with this group but.... There is just too much for me to commit to a static group and rather then leave Agents hanging, I'm going to bow out. I ranked my other DDO chars and Plumbic came in 5th; and those are all other static or semi static groups. Good luck, good hunting and keep the stories coming.
Silver Flame Blessings.
Lurch Longarm stood outside the Waterworks and unconsciously polished excrement from his second set of plate armor. He really need to get weapons and gear cleaned up, and a long hot bath for his grimy, stench wafting person, but he also felt the call of the dark ale in the Rusty Nail Tavern. His tired mind wrestled with the decision of what should take precedence, as a pretty Half-Elf in fashionable skin tight leather armor wrinkled her nose and stepped wide around his towering form. Bath and cleaning it is, he nodded to himself, and glad of the choice, as the nod dislodged a lump of dark ooze from his wet, matted hair. Ale deferment is the price one paid for diving into running sewers, although the nice armor was well worth the effort, even if it was a charitable gift and not truly the original treasure won honorably. The memory made his weathered features blush darkly.
They had started in the Kobold Clan Gnashtooth's sewer tunnels, attempting to rescue Arlos and Venn ar-Kerran as a favor for the Habormaster. Both brothers were nephews of one of his guards, being held prisoner somewhere in the stinking maze, along with many others in need of help. All had gone reasonably well, with an amazing amount of goods recovered from the gang of thieving Kobold vermin. One item had been a set of polished Heavy Plate Armor touched with magic that enhanced it's protective function, and it fit him perfectly. He packed away the old Battleworn Breastplate, worn since Jeets have given it to him back on Korthos Island, and donned the new armor on the spot. He did not get to wear it for long. They had fought their way into Chief Eechick's headquarters and persuaded him to tell where the other prisoners, including Arlos, were being held. Naturally, it was not close. The group had made their way back to the upper parts of the sewer, and taken the eastern branch, in search of the Tunnelworm Clan, led by Boss Jittik, who actually held the captives imprisoned, or so the Chief swore on his miserable life.
The eastern tunnels of running sludge took them deeper, and had them facing more deadly opponents. The Shamans were bad enough, but now they were seeing the occasional Witchdoctor as well. Lurch had to struggle against his instincts to rush the unholy spell weavers at first sight, and was not always successful. It was as if he recognized his natural enemies in such creatures. He recalled feeling much the same in the presence of the Necromancer back in Sigilstar, and Jacoby Drexelhand on Korthos Island. Standing against evil was in his bones, and had been even before he became a Knight of The Flame. Perhaps it was this which drove him to the front when he belonged behind the ranging Scouts. Still, it was some barrels and crates that caused his loss of the new armor, and not a lightening bolt, or acid arrow barrage from a Shaman.
They had worked their way south and were approaching another closed door, with alcoves along the way rich in smashable items containing the odd document scraps, gems, coins, potions, and even magically enhanced items on rare occasions. Unaware of any danger, he had moved to the front to get to the next alcove, when suddenly jets of green shot out from the walls to either side, drowning him from head to foot. All went black, as conscious awareness faded. He awoke in his underwear beside an open hatch, surrounded by his friends. His beautiful new armor lay in ruined pieces beside him, and his skin tingled with residual heals and poison cures from Shuvall. His mind was still fuzzy, as he struggled to recall the recent past to no avail.
"Here, you can have this." A voice from above his prone form spoke gently, as new plate, identical to that he had lost, was placed at his side. Lurch was not sure who gifted him, as all he saw were the hem of robes. "I picked that up while you were.... recovering, and have no use for it, or the coin it might bring."
Such was the generosity of the people Lurch had found companionship with. Truly, he was blessed by The Flame!
They had gone on to fight their way to Arlos, freeing other prisoners along the way, then more prisoners when searching for poor Venn, who was found tortured to death by the Tunnelworm Interrogator. While Venn could not be saved, revenge was taken, with nought left behind but bodies of the evil kidnappers, and the somber news delivered to his Uncle, Guard Tember. All in all, it had been quite a rewarding quest, and earned them the favor of the Harbormaster, as well as Lurch acquiring the gift of a new green cloak to cover his glistening new armor. Now for a bath and a drink... or three... and flowers to smell, hopefully to replace the lingering stench of the sewer. That would be a blessing as well.
Last edited by Fricko; 11-29-2013 at 09:47 AM.
Silver Flame Inquisitor
The freshly bathed old man, in glistening new Plate Armor, looked up from his tankard, smiling kindly at the richly white and gold robed, powerfully built young blond haired man who joined him at the corner table. The unlined, unweathered, and unscarred features, whose wide blue eyes filled were with wonder, spoke of a newcomer to Stormreach, while his almost timid approach told of youth seeking the experience of age. Looking back on that moment, Lurch decided he had been wrong before, he would probably be wrong again, but hopefully not this wrong in judging a tome by it's cover.
"I'm sorry to bother you, and will leave if you insist... but... are you a Knight of The Silver Flame?" The words came in a breathlessly excited rush. "I only ask because I see the emblem at your throat."
"Me? Yes, I am wearing the symbol of a Silver Flame Paladin. I am a member of the Flame's Reburial Service. My father was a gravedigger in the Thrane city of Sigilstar. As was I, until the dead began rising from their rest and walking the land under the guidance of an evil person wearing robes of a Sovereign Priest." Like most older men, Lurch loved to tell his story, and struggled to keep the pride from his voice as he did so. A Knight should be humble, to his way of thinking.
"But... I was just walking by The Catacombs,... where madmen are kept by Silver Flame Guards...., and you do not wear the arms or armor they do. Are you a special sort of Knight?" The youth wiggled in his seat as if he could not bear the suspense. "You are older, perhaps a Grand Knight, or High Patron, wearing commoner's plate so as not to draw attention from your true calling?"
"Oh, no!" Lurch shook his head, smiling ruefully. "I am not important. I come from a family of gravediggers and crypt guards, with no political connections to step me up to such lofty heights. As to armor and weapons, I lost all in a ship wreck off the coast of a small island named Korthos. My time since has been spent earning enough coin to replace it, and make myself presentable in the presence of Knights such as those guards you speak of."
The man frowned and looked down at his hands, clearly doubting the words. "Gravedigger? Wearing the Emblem of a Knight of the Silver Flame?"
"Aye, 'tis true! I was once a lowly gravedigger!" Lurch snorted at the young man's skeptical expression. "The Knights in Sigilstar saw me struggling to put the dead back in their crypts and coffins, and offered me training and guidance in how to do it properly. Now my life is dedicated to searching out those who disturb the eternal rest of the dead, weakening The FLame. My duty is to put the wakened dead back where they belong, and destroy those who would practice such unholy evil."
Running a large, strong fingered hand through his hair, he shook his head in disgust, before returning his attention to the hard earned tankard on the table.
"But have you earned the right to wear the emblem, or are you another imposter? Sigilstar is far away. Do you have papers of identification, like these?" The man placed a document on the table, pointing to the colorfully embossed emblem of a Knight of The Silver Flame displayed proudly in the upper right hand corner, and signed by the Local Silver Flame Patron, Astra Quinlin. The young man was identified as Truthbringer Captain Davros Urthadar, Investigator for The Silver Flame Inquisitor's Office, Xen'drik Division, Stormreach Headquarters Office.
Lurch felt his ale sour on his stomach, trying to crawl back up his throat. His mind whirled with a mad rush of ideas and half formed images, what to say, how to explain, where to start, escape with a mad dash for the door.... which was now blocked by armed Silver Flame guards in beautifully engraved, and gold trimmed plate armor, with two more making their presence known from just behind and to either side of where he sat. Lurch was helpless, professionally pinned in place.
"Well?" The young man's eyes now an icy blue, fixed and unblinking as they seemed to stare into Lurch's brain, poking about with a sharp knife. "Papers?"
"Lost... in the shipwreck... Korthos Island... Cellimas Villuhne, Jeets Shimis, and the Warforged Talbron Tewn can verify the White Dragon... sinking my ship and taking all my possession with it. I barely escaped alive!" The Paladin stammered weakly in protest.
"We have heard of the Dragon, and of the Mindflayer behind those attacks," Captain Urthadar sneered, "events occurring sufficiently long ago that you have had plenty of time to report your status, missing identification, and giving us time to send to Sigilstar for confirmation and replacement documents. Your story is lacking."
"I... I was embarrassed." Lurch replied simply, clasping his hands in an unconscious prayerful pose. "I wanted to report to the Patron here in Stormreach as a Knight of The Flame, and not as a copperless beggar, incapable of holding on to the weapons and equipment issued and entrusted to my care. I was trying to earn enough coin to replace the things lost to the Dragon at sea, before reporting to Patron Quinlin here."
"Explain it to the Patron and Inquisitor, as they are eagerly awaiting your company and... tales," the Captain sneered in open disbelief. He motioned to the guards, who quickly relieved Lurch of his weapons, even his apple peeling knife, and formed a circle to enclose him. At a slow pace, they marched him from the tavern under the curious eyes of a silently condemning crowd of patrons.
Lurch tried to walk with his head up, but his heart was pounding with mounting fear as they crossed the short distance between the Rusty Nail and the Courtyard of the Catacombs. Still, he felt as if every eye in the Marketplace was on him and his situation, and in spite of his erect carriage, he cowered inside at the image presented. He prayed silently that none of his friends saw him like this. The shame would be too much to live with. From gravedigger to Holy Warrior of The Silver Flame was a climb he had taken much pride in. To have them see him under guard by The Flame would....
Thankfully, they entered the gloomy interior of the Catacombs, distracting his thoughts for the time. He was escorted down many flights of stairs, past robed Friars, Adepts, and Guards, who all studiously avoided looking at the arresting party, or the arrested person in the center. It was apparent that the Captain and his Guards made them uncomfortable, and that added to Lurch's own unease. Finally he was led to face a blank wall under the last stairway, where the Captain waved his palm in the air. A poisonous green glowing sigil appeared floating in mid air, which he touched with a finger, making it fade into nothingness again. The party stepped forward and a doorway appeared, opening at the Captain's touch. Lurch entered warily, as the smell of scorched flesh and burned bone wafted out to greet his nostrils and sting his eyes.
The room was not large, but was well equipped with instruments of torment. iron maidens in sizes to accommodate Halfling to Troll lined the wall to the left. A stretching rack held the center of the room. At its' foot was a brazier of glowing coals, long handled pinchers and irons nestled around the edges. The wall to the front held a workbench with racks of horrid instruments, whips, floggers, and restraining devices. Lurch found his knees had collapsed, and he was being dragged toward another door in the right hand wall. He regained his feet, and managed an unsteady walk as they passed through into a rather plain office. It was furnished with straight backed wooden chairs arranged before battered old desk. Behind the desk was a wizened old man in smudged robes, wearing a harried expression. He was holding a quill pen in one hand, and an Adept was pouring hot tea into the cup he held in the other. Standing beside him was a well dressed lady whom he recognized from the courtyard outside. Astra Quinlin, Silver Flame Patron.
"Holy Inquisitor Chainweaver," the Captain spoke directly to the old man, ignoring the Patron completely. "I bring you the imposter. Would you hear his story, or pronounce his sentence now?"
"Hey!" Lurch protested, twisting in the grip of his guards, "Surely, I get to tell..."
Lurch swam out of the darkness, hearing the Patron speaking as if from a great distance and height above, from his kneeling position on the floor.
"...reports that he has been quite helpful locally, and..." "...seen the letter from the Mayor of Korthos Villiage confirming his part...." "...you think a sentence of a week of torment, followed by beheading is a bit premature? Can't we continue to make use of his abilities..." "...awaiting word from Evan in Sigilstar?" The disjointed voice of the Patron seemed to come from high above and far away, fading in and out as he knelt in semi-conscious terror, head splitting where he had been struck from behind.
"Perhaps a delay, but setting him free to continue this ruse? You heard the Capitan repeat the tale of reporting delay due to embarrassment.... ridiculous!" The old man frowned and rested his chin in the palm of his hand thoughtfully, glaring at the trembling form of Lurch, who was still being held forcibly on his knees by the guards.
"You can't deny the good works he has accomplished with his friends since he arrived in Harbor. Even the Harbormaster speaks well of them." The Patron argued gently.
"As do the Coin Lords... but that is not a recommendation weighing the scales in his favor here." The Inquisitor snorted, then went on. "However, to test his story of being experienced in dealing with the walking dead, you might find work for him in resolving our little problem with Marg...."
"We shall speak to the... to Lurch Longarm privately," Patron Quinlin spoke nervously, looking at the Guards and Captain Urthadar, then to the Inquisitor with a lifted eyebrow.
"Yes... yes... privately would be best, indeed." The old man nodded, seeming a bit embarrassed, as he turned to the kneeling Paladin's captors.
"Captain, you and your detail did fine work tracking this one down. You are dismissed. We will deal with it now. He will earn his freedom, until word comes from Sigilstar. Thank you." The old man waved a dismissive hand, and Lurch watched warily as they left. He swallowed hard, as the Captain gave him a warning glare that promised unspeakable horror if they were to meet again as opponents.
"Stand up, man! Stand up!" The Inquisitor demanded impatiently, as the door closed behind his captors. "Now listen. You claim to be a Knight of the Silver Flame, yet you have no papers to prove it. Are you willing to do some odd jobs for us to demonstrate your abilities... your worth... to The Flame and it's leadership here in Stormreach?"
"I... You..." Lurch looked from one to the other in confusion, his head still foggy and knees still weak as he struggled to stand upright.
"Gather your wits, man! Buckle up and put things shiny side out!" The Inquisitor slapped the desk and half stood, leaning closer to peer intently. Lurch felt pinned under the hard gaze.
"I... I serve The Flame, Sir." It was all he could think to say.
"Perhaps." The old man appeared unconvinced. "What think you, Astra?"
"What do we have to lose? Let him at least speak to Friar Renau, and hope for the best," she replied, giving Lurch an encouraging smile that lifted his confidence considerably.
"It's not what we have to lose, but what the evil may have to gain in him, that is what worries me!" The Inquisitor shook his head and waved a dismissive hand at them both.
The Patron took him gently by the arm and led him outside the room, where the Captain stood holding his confiscated weapons.
"Are you certain about this M'lady?" Captain Urthadar asked her, still unable to look directly into her eyes.
"Give him his weapons, Dav... then go try not to hurt anyone else who can aid us." Her tone was not friendly, and his blushing face spoke loudly of a story untold to Lurch.
The Captain thrust the weapons into his arms, then turned and stalked away with the stiff stride of one suppressing great anger.
"Remove that emblem from your neck, and make no further reference to being a Knight of The Flame," The Patron spoke softly, for his ears alone. "Sometimes it helps to have agents working for us that are not openly associated or linked. Speak to Friar Renau outside the gates, and The Flame willing, help him resolve his problem. You will be rewarded if you can, as will your friends if you can get them to assist."
With that, she returned to the Inquisitors room, leaving him to find his way back to the Marketplace entrance unsupervised.
Lurch put himself in order, and worked his way upward with mind whirling. These people were not at all like the ones back in Sigilstar, although he had to admit he never had much to do with such high ranking officials back there. Something quite strange was happening here. He had a hundred questions racing in his mind, but little chance of getting them answered soon.
Friar Renau. He would start there. It was better than having his head removed!
With head still attached, he walked out into the sunlight, feeling very thankful for his freedom, and for his friends. He was going to need them!
Last edited by Fricko; 11-29-2013 at 10:20 AM.
While enjoying some "shopping" in the marketplace, Sparrow noticed that her friend Lurch was being frog-marched by a group of very serious looking knights wearing marking of the Silver Flame. If it wasn't for the lack of weapons at his side and the look of shear terror on Lurch's face, Sparrow would have assumed he was just on some errand that was part of his responsibilities as a Knight of the Silver flame. But Lurch was never without his sword and it was clearly missing.
Slipping quietly up a wall and onto rooftops, Sparrow followed the old man and his serious looking guards as they marched him through the streets. She watched as he was marched into the Catacombs. So, she waited.
And she waited.
And Lurch didn't come out.
Sparrow slipped down to the square outside the entrance to the Catacombs and mixed in with the crowd. Looking like one of the many beggars who loitered in that square hoping for hand-outs she listened and watched. Lurch was supposed to meet with Sparrow at the Rusty Nail for drinks that afternoon and it was getting on to evening. Something was very wrong.
Sparrow sat against the wall close enough to overhear anything that one of the priests or knights of the Silver Flame might inadvertently mention while outside. Occasionally she flicked a bit of sticky mud onto the backs of otherwise spotless white robes worn by the patrons of the Silver Flame. And she waited...
Zyinniah Hazelnut and Curissa Hazelnut on most servers.
The smoke was unbearable. Nothing could be seen through the
fire, but the voice could be heard as a whisper "Deacon" it
called out almost as an echo, "Deacon, Deacon can you hear
me?" "Let me be!" Blues stood up and cried out, sweat
dripping from his brow. Many patrons turned to see what the
commotion was about. A well figured, underdressed waitress
stared at him with a look of confusion on her face.
Stormreach. I'm in Stormreach. "Are you alright, Deacon?" "I
am fine, my child. I must be going" Deacon Blues threw a
couple silver on the table and made his way out of the
tavern. It was already past midday. "Need to follow up on
that lead if..." Blues stopped in mid-thought. Some knights
of the silver flame were walking with Lurch. No, not walking
with so much as escorting. Three things were obvious. One,
Lurch was not happy. Two, Lurch was unarmed. Three, most
important, Lurch was not in chains. This means that the
silver flame only wanted to talk to him. "But why?" he asked
himself. Lurch is of the silver flame. He has proudly stated
so. What Tenent could he have broken?. Deacon Blues stopped.
He was in the silver flame square. A few silver flame guards
had taken notice of him and were moving his way. Blues would
not be welcome here, and his presence, if traced to Lurch,
may cause even more issues. Deacon Blues turned to the north
and headed out of the square to house Kundarak. He had work
to do. If the Silver Flame paladin needed him, it would have
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