RC 23 - Full Iconic stories

[Reaper_Jon]

Full ReaperCon 2023 Iconic stories per day! 

 

Hollis Grayheath (Last Place 1235 Points)

• ReaperCon Day 1 
  • Hollis discovers the thief who stole the Thimblestone is a conniving spellcaster.  Hollis nearly catches up with her at the Millner's Sun Tavern but runs afoul of murderous brigands. The clever halfling eludes the ruffians and heads south towards Barrowgate.
• ReaperCon Day 2
  • Hollis' pursuit takes an unexpected turn when summer storms rip across the Vestonian hinterlands forcing him to take cover in some nearby caves. The intrepid druid ventures inside stumbling upon the thief's encampment (the wretched thief detoured to rob a grave). While scouring the thief’s campsite for the thimblestone, Hollis fails to notice her silent approach. A sharp blow from behind and Hollis blacks out; he awakens hours later tied to a tree stump, the thief staring at him from across the crackling campfire…
• ReaperCon Day 3
  • Hollis can't seem to catch a break. His hare companion, Verbena, is in a sack, he's tied to a rotten stump, and the thief still has the thimblestone. She’s sympathetic but unmoved by Hollis' story. She explains she's working for a powerful invoker named Nezzith who takes his relic collection very seriously, and there will be dire consequences if she fails to deliver the Thimblstone to him. Without another word the thief breaks camp, leaving Hollis' knife stuck in the stump and Verbena in the sack dangling from a branch. As Hollis manages to free himself and Verbena, the campfire burns low and a hungry owlbear wanders into the camp…
• ReaperCon Day 4
  • The owlbear was unrelenting, vicious, and cruel but stood no chance against Hollis' druidical might. A mass of vines sprouted from the earth, pulling the monstrosity’s feet out from under it. Blue sparks flashed from Hollis' staff, blinding the beast, and just for good measure, Hollis scorched the beast's furred back with lightning wrenched from the sky.
    Hollis makes haste to Barrowgate to locate Nezzith the Invoker. After days of asking around, Hollis catches a break and learns where Nezzith makes his home. Hollis is down to his last few copper pieces when he pays Nezzith a visit. When turned away at the door, Hollis sees there is no other choice but to climb over the vine-covered wall to the wizard's garden. The dauntless halfling immediately runs afoul of animated bramblecats and vicious flesh-hungry plants. Hollis scrambles up the wall and enters the central tower, following his nose in the drafty, dark passages to the wizard's library where he finds the wizard asleep in a high-backed chair, thick libram across his lap. Hollis, against his better judgment, approaches intent on searching the wizard or, if must be, threatening him and forcing him to return the thimblestone. As soon as Hollis lays his hand on the wizard's robe, the wizard disappears into curling wisps of smoke - an illusion. A shadow falls over the plucky halfling, and Verbena flees for her life. Two days later, a statue in Hollis' likeness stands in a shady corner of the Invoker's garden. Verbena is currently seeking a band of adventurers to free and restore her master...

 

 

Kreed Bloodbeard (Third Place 1273 Points)

• ReaperCon Day 1 
  • Astride his loyal steed, Kreed enters the Wesbarrow Hills in pursuit of the fleeing Scarneck Hobgoblins. During a rainstorm, Kreed's mount throws a shoe and both the barbarian and and his mount tumble into a rocky gorge. Kreed survives the descent but his horse is not so lucky
• ReaperCon Day 2
  • Kreed trudges along, the weight of the loss of his beloved eating at his heart like acid. The peerless barbarian sets aside his grief, sets his jaw, and puts his eyes on the hobgoblins' trail. Two days later, he spies another set of hobgoblin tracks and determines that they’re loaded down with pillage. They'll travel slower and for shorter times. The turn of good luck invigorates the northman and he presses on through the night. Just before dawn, he spies the hobgoblins’ encampment made up of a dozen coarse hide yurts, smoky campfires, and a pair of enormous black-furred warg sentries.
• ReaperCon Day 3
  • Kreed storms into the hobgoblin camp and the wargs bark their warning, but it is too late. Crimson gore sprays from the wolves’ severed heads. Kreed feels the rush, the atavistic thrill of slaughter. Surely his ancestors are looking down in approval. Battle pleases the feral gods of the Savage North. Hobgoblins stagger and struggle out of their yurts awkwardly donning helm and studded tunic. Arrows are launched, some striking the raging barbarian, but nothing will stop Kreed. Kreed hacks and maims his way to the largest tent. No time for niceties, he slashes a gash through the hide and tumbles inside the smoky interior, axe at the ready and angry eyes flashing…
• ReaperCon Day 4
  • The Hobgoblin underlings and wargs do their jobs dying to delay the mighty-thewed engine of destruction. Kreed is confronted with a grim scene—the hobgoblin warlord, a giant among his kind, waits beside a flaming brass brazier within the tent, tulwar in hand and ready. Nearby Kadee is manacled and chained, a snarl of defiance on her bruised face, her limbs raw from working the irons. Kadee gives her love a nod. Kreed snatches up his hatchet and hurls it at the hobgoblin warlord who dodges and scoffs at the barbarian's feeble throw. The two spring at one another, flesh tearing, blood flowing into deep pools on the richly embroidered rugs covering the ground beneath the tent. Kreed angrily kicks aside the brazier sending coals tumbling and setting the tent ablaze. The fire rages around them and the hobgoblin warlord pins Kreed against the central tent pole and moves in to savor the barbarian's last breath, but he never gets the chance. Blood spurts from the hobgoblin's mouth and nostrils and his eyes go dim. Kadee bided her time, freed herself, and made use of the wayward hatchet, burying it deep behind the hobgoblin's right ear. Kadee and Kreed, still painted scarlet from the bloody adventure, ride north wearing fresh warg hide cloaks...

 

Ryelle Rainheather (Second Place 1437 Points)

• ReaperCon Day 1
  • Ryelle dines with her mentor at the Green Griffin Inn in Barrrowgate. As they discuss the cursed ruins of Greencrypt, Ryelle discovers someone spying on their conversation.  Ryelle gives chase as the spy gives them the slip through the stable door…
• ReaperCon Day 2
  • After chasing the spy, Rylelle loses the interloper on Barrowgate's rain-slick streets. No matter, she put the city at her back heading north astride her beloved Appaloosa. Three days north through rain and mist, the fearless bard takes an oft-used stony path up into the Westbarrow Hills. A thick fog creeps in, obscuring the trail but the elusive, haunting melody she seeks tugs at her every step. Taking up her lute, Ryelle plucks and strums to keep the chill and the lurking fear at bay as a soft green glow appears in the distance.
• ReaperCon Day 3
  • The intensity of the melody comes and goes as the slim minstrel steps into the soft green glow of a mausoleum in the Greencrypt. Every surface—stone, wood, and even bone–is covered in clumps of sickly, alien moss. A skeleton dressed in mail hauberk leans against the far wall, patches of green with orange filaments growing from its eyes and gathering on its mail. Ryelle realizes that she must be quicker than the quickmoss, lest she join the sentry in his unending vigil.
    The melody quickens and grows, directing her to descend to a rocky pool. The wall looks more finished than it should; she wades in and spots a hair-thin line—the outline of a cleverly concealed door. Turning a nearby stone, the wall retreats into the dark and slides aside. The melody, now pounding in her ears, flees into the dark urging her to follow…
• ReaperCon Day 4
  • The elf races after the melody, narrowly avoiding the many dangers lurking unseen in the dark and dank passages of the Greencrypt. She nearly meets her end when a charnel grub plows through a round gate and lashes her with its sticky venomous tentacles. Quick swordplay and even quicker fire magic bring her enough time to escape, even though the venom threatens to stiffen her limbs and drain her strength. Eventually, she stumbles into a domed chamber lit by thousands of candles. Small alcoves and shelves contain odd curios, tomes, and clusters of maps. A lifetime of collecting, precious and irreplaceable, lay before her... but she isnt’ alone. A pool of black sand slithers from a dark corner like a metallic serpent and rises. A withered elven form takes shape, noseless, ears notched, skin drawn tight over its dusty bones - a hallorthe, an undead being tasked with preserving lore until the end of time. The two speak for a time, her host offering her a cup of spiced wine, a vintage lost for nearly nine centuries. She speaks of the lost melody, the tune she's heard since she was a child. Touched by her commitment and bravery, the hallorthe offers her a small mithril music box, and opens it, but it is silent. "Sing" the parched lips speak, and she does. She realizes that the melody was inside her all along. It flows out and settles inside the box. Exhausted, Ryelle falls into a deep sleep, waking many hours later alone in the dark, empty chamber, the curio box on the floor along with a bottle of spiced wine. Ryelle makes for the surface, the box safely tucked inside her cloak, the tune on her lips...

 

Emrul Gozgul (First Place 1503 Points)

• ReaperCon Day 1
  • Emrul is hot on the heels of her treacherous comrades. The gloom and fog of the Grave Marches engulf her as she follows the trail. With torch in hand, the shadows keep their distance... for now.
• ReaperCon Day 2
  • The wily rogue follows the trail to a crumbling tower perched over a crumbling hillside. As Emrul scouts about, she feels a pair of hungry eyes upon her. Thinking quickly she draws her cleaver-like blade and slashes at the darkness as a ravenous leucrotta erupts from the shadows. Emrul gives as good as she gets in the melee. She staggers undaunted away from the dying badger-beast with only a few minor scratches to show for it.
• ReaperCon Day 3
  • After the better part of the day and night, the intrepid half-orc regains the trail, following it to a barren cliff face overlooked by a crumbling, crooked tower. Figuring there has to be another way, Emrul scouts the perimeter, eventually finding a dark cave with a narrow, rancid stream flowing from it. Emrul draws her blades and enters slowly enough for her orc-sight to kick in, allowing her to see a rat as large as a bear chained along the right-hand wall. To the left, a narrow boundary of stones leads to a portcullis. The floor is littered with bones and not all are animals. Stepping around a gnawed dwarf skull and sticking to the left to avoid the rat's slobbery dagger-like incisors, the vengeful thief advances to the portcullis.
• ReaperCon Day 4
  • The half-orc's muscles tense again spring-like as she slips silently from room to room, slipping blades into every back and across every neck she encounters. She's lost track of the number of bodies she leaves in her wake. Her cohort has been busy. They've hooked up with another gang or two and they're having a go at playing warlords and raiders. The hazards of the lair are many: walls of spring-loaded darts, spiked pits, and a pair of scythe blades scissoring at head height in a dark corridor. Emrul was genuinely surprised when a bat-eared caterwaul leaped at her from a concealed perch along the wall. The ensuing fight left two fingers on her left hand mangled and stiff. Binding the wounds she presses on. The bodies continue to pile up as she evens the odds with every drop of blood. After felling the firebug Cyril, she dons his garb and helm, casually slipping into a formation of sentries making their way to the great hall. After losing cloak, helm, and corselet, Emrul heads in the direction of familiar voices. Her gauntleted fist gently raps on the flimsy door, then immediately leaps above it, drawing her garrote. As soon as the door opens, she applies wire to neck, easily lifting the scrawny footpad in the doorway. A quick yank and twist and the deed is done, the twitching corpse drops loudly to the floor. Her orcish bloodlust nearly takes over, the red haze nearly blinding. She tumbles into the room, loosing a brace of envenomed darts with her good hand, vaults over furniture while cleaving into the startled shapes gathered around a map-covered table. The walls run crimson; Galen, her former captain, lover, and friend, lies face down on the table, paralyzed. Her trusty garrote held in hand, Emrul turns Galen's head to look at her as she sets to grim and grisly work. Emrul casually tosses the rope out a nearby window and rappels down the cliff face to her horse returning to Barrowgate, bloody sack hanging from her saddlehorn.

[Corsair]

Excellent wrap up! Thanks!

[Chaoswolf]

I agree, nice to know what happened!

[haldir]

The Bunny was robbed!!