In the Shadow of Griffin Mountain

Session Four Notes

Drinking the Water

Fruznari gulped down some of the filthy water in the tomb. Fortunately, I failed the Potency roll, so all he got was a bad case of the runs 1D6 days later.

Winning the Treasure

Here’s what you brought out of the tomb, and the values you could realize if you wish to unload them right away; if no value is listed, the item is too hot to sell or otherwise priceless:

  • Two red spinels, the “eyes” of the statue on the island: 580 Lunars each to a fence in Elkoi.
  • The glowing orb: it projects light in a 15 yard radius when rubbed. Light is extinguished if the orb is dropped or otherwise no longer held in the hand that lit it.
  • Tumblerbane: a key that can open any lock.
  • A selection of ancient coins. Face value equivalent is listed here, but they might be worth considerably more to the right buyer, such a collector of ancient coins.
  • A silver coin on a chain, worth 1 Lunar.
  • A ruby in a mahogany box, worth 300 Lunars in all.
  • An iron bastard sword with a crystal in the hilt (value is at least 3,000 Lunars).
  • An iron helmet with a crystal in the band and ivory horns.
  • A gold ceremonial shield, set with opals and garnets: street value is 960 Lunars.
From Basket Boy to Basket Man
Back Battle

Gather round children, no not you Punk, stay there, in fact, go fetch me berries and cheese….I meant now Punk.

Anyway you may have heard of Fruznari’s Stand….you haven’t. Well maybe you just don’t listen to that sort of thing. It’s not exactly the sort of thing you would hear at mainstream campfires. I will tell you now then. Carry the story far and wide children.

I had been dispatched to protect several children and guide them as they proved their worth in a hunt of great greatness. The Elders knew I had participated in many hunts. It was really only in a technical sense that I hadn’t been initiated. Really.

Seriously that’s true. That’s not what you heard? Who told you that? Oh is that so? Well we’ll talk about your mother later. I’ve got a few stories about her myself.

Where was I? Oh…while we rested at camp, preparing to venture into the hunting grounds, I sensed the approach of a horrible beast with some serious big sharp pointy teeth. I braced myself and warned the children in my care “you better run!” I shouted and prepared to engage in, what I call, back battle.

You’ve never heard of back battle? I’m not surprised. I have to say the children at the other camp fires have all heard about back battle. You should get out more.

I fiercely assaulted the beast, with my back, all the while watching the children to ensure they were protected from the horrible creature. I then feigned unconsciousness as I further engaged the beast, ultimately subduing it with a new limp-limb flailing form of assault I have yet to name. But once I do, it will be awesome and you will all want to learn it.

In my honor my companions took trophies of the beast and now wear them as a token of appreciation, and to remember my honor, of my bravery and my unique ability to aggressively bleed on a foe until they submit in fear.

That sure is taking a while Punk.

That Sallow-Eyed Witch

That sallow-eyed witch.

I mean literal witch. Shaman. Rattle-shaker. Whatever term you want. When she first stepped out behind the “head-man,” I genuinely thought she was an actor. As perfunctory and fumbling as most of their little shows were, I had to credit Jebith and Salar at least for this: they presented a convincing façade of devotion. While their whole “Seven Mothers” concept was flawed on its face, they spared little expense when calling up a passion play. This…Elronda, was it?…was the very image of Jakaleel. In the Citadel, though, an actor had to smear her teeth with butter to get them that yellow. I thought, for a moment, that the Crone of Hags had come for me. That she saw me in her temples, knew I’d read her words without permission. But that wasn’t enough to earn my ire.

It wasn’t even what she did to my bone that made me hate the woman, honestly. I’d time enough in Elkoi to grow accustomed to that pricking, burning feeling when a dozen eyes are on you like spiders. I was only too happy to unload it on Punk and Moss and the other one, to help them feel how I did when the witch snapped the bone and cast it into the fire. Besides, I stand by my argument; if they didn’t want us bringing back just any marked bones, they should have furnished us with better instructions.

As if these savages could think that far ahead.

No, I hated the witch because of the things she said afterward. How she held me up as some omen, some future-figure. I thought leaving Elkoi would be getting free of all that. It’s what I was running from, after what I heard Jebith whispering in her shrine. I wouldn’t be their child of prophecy, so why would I submit to the far more ignominious—and less well-insulated—fate of doing so for these arsescratchers?

Cacodemon’s Fa…no, I shouldn’t even think like that.

Still, none of them said anything. Hopli didn’t jab me about the wrong bone, Erik didn’t get puffed up that I had some shine of meaning upon me. Fruznari—I’m not sure he even noticed, but that boy’s got problems aplenty as it is. Then came the hunt, and the pheasants and the cat. They didn’t flee, they didn’t trip me into those teeth. They left me standing, they stood by me. Hells and hazards, it would have been easy enough to point a finger at the little sphere-boy when the pheasants disappeared, and I’m sure Punk and his would have allowed it.

Instead, they stood with me. They stood in front of me. Well, one of them fell on the ground and bled, but that easily could have been me too.

Too easily.

The worst thing that’s happened to me since coming out here is that I got a little cold. Thick as my skin is to snickering and laughter, it’s still just skin. I don’t have fur, or furs. I’ve got a shirt, and about six stone extra weight hanging around my waist. I could have died.

We can’t have that. Not until I know for sure it’s safe. So I’m out here, before the sun, sitting in the cold morning air. Gritting my teeth against the bite. Curling my hands into fists around the two grinding molars I’ve gathered thus far. I know the tooth thing seems odd, and it’s good of the other lads not to mention it. They don’t understand, they won’t understand. I’ll let it be one more weird Nongrot thing, for now.

But if teeth define my destiny, it falls to them to divine it as well.



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