3. Fireside Chat: Swordmaster Tero

Fireside Chat: Swordmaster Tero


  • _:Tero has spoken very little to anyone since the confrontation with King Horgan the night before. He is found either watching bridge to the gnoll lands or in his tent.

    All attempts at communication by others is ignored or quickly brushed off. It seems he is more often in his tent where he can be heard snoring for hours:_


  • _:Tero looked down on the man's dying face by the camp fire's light. The guard had little time left in this world, it was plain to see. The Camp guard's words were faint and slurred but Tero leaned close to make them out:

    We were guarding the bridge. There were six of us, as you ordered sir…:coughs wetly and red: ...they came up from behind us as we watched the bridge and listened to them calling and howling to one another in their woods to the north....:spasms and coughs for several minutes: ...they came...silent...behind us....struck us a-all down....o-opened the gate...t-they poured across....I-I tried....

    :The guard's eyes glaze over and he becomes still as life leaves him. Tero curses darkly, looking at the accusing glances from the Rom in the Camp, and mutters to himself:

    It's not my fault! They claim they tried to wake me but I don't remember any of it, I meant to sleep for 4 maybe 5 hours and it seems I slept most of the day.

    I'm getting very tired of the accusations...it wasn't my fault and I'll only take so much.

    :Gritting his teeth he stomps away from the fire, heading north to watch over the rebuilding of the gate across the bridge that the gnolls had destroyed before their near-successful assault on the Camp.:_


  • _::Tero stands before the fire, an angry scowl on his face, a face that seems pale and worn perhaps from the ongoing conflict with the gnolls::

    "How many of those dog faced bastards can there be? They attack nightly now, and each time we lose a few more men, while they loose scores. Last night I had to hold the bridge entrance myself while workers reinforced the gate on the damned bridge. I killed so many they piled up like stacks of hairy trash until I was waist deep, but still they came…howling and laughing their insane laughter, chanting that cursed name over and over....

    ::The swordsmaster goes silent, staring into the flames, his face slackened::_


  • _Word spreads of yet another attack by the Gnolls… Of the score of travellers that arrived from Jiyyd, along with a few Gali. Apparently drawn to battle by the kidnapping of a girl. Swordmaster Tero granted them passage through the inner camp as a rescue attempt was made...

    Many of the travellers stayed behind to defend the camp, the vicious dog men attacking with a reckless fury... A small group led by the Paladin of Kelemvor, Kara Du'Monte and the Gali Elder, Arandor, marched into the ruins in hopes of finding the girl before it was too late.

    Howling, crude laughter, and the sounds of battle echoing from afar... Chanting can be heard, slowly growing louder and louder, before getting strangely quiet... The group group fleeing back to the gates as Kara and Rolan held the retreat... After having a chance to recover, Arandor recounts his experiences._

    "… We were too late... The girl was nowhere to be found... Only a small trace of blood on the altar. There were men aiding the Gnolls, priests like Meril described... And we slew them, but were unable to find out more about them... Although... We think we might know who the 'shoosuva' are... The Gnolls fight with suicidal rage for a reason. It is like they want to die... So that they may return... For every every Gnoll slain, two of the demon bastards would spring up... ::He says half-jokingly, chuckling uneasily, and going silent for a brief moment::

    We saw it again… The giant winged beast... Like a fleeting, yet horrible image... It is my fear that each fell ritual these heretics complete... brings the winged demon one step closer to our plane... We cannot let that happen..."

    He settles down by the fires, leaning back against a tree and waiting to see what the others have to say


  • _Tero's face is pale, his eyes show he's had little sleep in some days. He watches Meril speak as he explains what this strange word apparently means.

    "Thank you, Meril, for your information. Yet your answer seems to create new questions. Who are these returners? And where are they supposed to be returning from? Or to?"

    Tero shakes his head in some frustration as he hears the mocking voices of the Gnolls rising and falling, the insane laughter seemingly louder each day, echoing from the north._

  • D

    _Some tendays later, Meril approaches the the fires once more, though this time with rather less drama - a tension in his step suggests he is busy with a great many other things.

    "A warrior of Tempus heard a word in a vision. The same word Tala found in her research, and others heard gnolls say out loud. The word was 'shoosuva'.

    A merchant in Peltarch gave me the meaning of the word. it means 'the returners', or 'those who have returned'.

    I hope any who can shed some light on what that means, step forward to speak of it."

    Stepping back from the fires, he waits, watching quietly from a distance, for anyone else to speak on this._

  • D

    _As the day draws to a close in the camp, the faintest sound of birdpipes is heard, some distance away. As the sun sinks below the horizon, gradually easing the day into twilight, the source of the music appears as the elven bard known as Meril approaches the fires. The music stops as he draws closer, though none can recall seeing his hand move to return the birdpipes to his side.

    He stands in front of the fire as others draw close, intrigued by the music they had heard, waiting patiently. The firelight reflects from his eyes, dancing to an unseen melody.

    Satisifed with the numbers drawn, the bard turns to address those present, his gaze lingering on each and every one present - none excluded from his tale. His words are clearly heard, but spoken calmly, simply, and honestly. While he plays no music as he speaks, his words carry a melodic quietly that seems to remind those present of the music previously heard, and it is hard not to imagine hearing occassional notes from that earlier music.

    "Some tendays past, Kara, the Paladin of Kelemvor and myself were approached by Tero, of your camp. He told us that a member of the gamp of elder years was taken, abducted by the gnolls whose growls you hear in the night.

    "As we waited to gather aid to mount a rescue, others from outside your camp told us of more abductions. From Jiyyd, from Peltarch - even the Eastlanders reported one lost. Each time, one of the oldest was taken from them by gnolls who appeared by magic."

    The bard pauses, making sure the attention remains focused upon him.

    "When the next dawn came, Kara lead us to attack the gnoll forces. They were strong - angered, or desperate for battle. One of our number fell, and other came close. And alongside the gnolls appeared demons - visages from the Abyss itself." The bard closes his eyes at mention of the Abyss - demons of his own, perhaps, rising to the forefront of his mind. He takes a breath to continue.

    "We continued, regardless, slaying a great many of the creatures. Many of them carried the symbol of the demon god that Tala has already spoken of - I am loathe to continue repeating the name. Even saying it can grant such creatures a little power.

    "At last we reached the altar of their god - and to our horror found the gnolls aided by priests who appeared in all respects human. We…" He seeks for the words, perhaps a trace of embaressment in his tone. "...were forced to retreat before fully examining the priests, or the altar, though we did not the altar was bloodied. The fate of those taken by the gnolls seems to be confirmed - as well as the fears I had. The rescue attempt, such as it was, had failed.

    "Kara cleansed the altar, though suffered greatly from dark magics as she did so. She spoke of how she had heard a voice - perhaps a whisper, or laughter - it would be best if she recounts that part, for I know not enough to speak of it.

    "After she had finished, we returned to the camp, to tend to our wounds and our fallen. I do not know of the further plans of the gnolls, nor do I know what their goals are. They, and their rituals, remain a mystery - though one I hope we can solve together."

    Turning, as if about to leave, he pauses, looking back. "I can add little more but to confirm that Arandor speaks true of seeing something else, out there, in the night. While I caught no glimpse, others whose eyes I also trust caught sight of something. Something whose apperance described fills me with great dread.

    "Take care, at night. Wander not alone, and be ever wary. This will get worse, before it gets better."

    Twilight finally ends and night begins as the elf gives a final nod of acknowledgement, and thanks, to those present, the swirling of his cloak about his feet highlighted by the gypsy fires._


  • ::Arandor wanders over to the fires the morning after a recent attack. His shirt open, left shoulder and torso axe-bitten, bandages wrapped tightly sround the wounds. A thick pillar of smoke rising from the inner camp as corpses are gathered and burned.::

    "We now know that the dog men have found their faith… They call upon their demon god and we can only guess at the fell rituals that are taking place... It's unlikely any that are kidnapped will be found alive."

    ::His expression grim, going silent for a time before speaking again.::

    "The dog men are not all we have to worry about now… Demons were summoned to their aid, it would seem their god is answering their call... Many of the flea bags were slain, but they were unphased as we pressed forward, and they howled, laughing like jackals as we were eventually forced to retreat."

    ::He covers his mouth quickly at a sharp cough that grips him, a small drop of red forming between his fingers. He reaches back into his pouch with his other hand, pulling out a bloodied rag and wiping his lip and hand.::

    _"… There was something else out there... I caught only a glimpse of it in the darkness. Something large, shadowy, and with wings... No one should enter the ruins alone and unprepared, your life is in your own hands if you do."

    ::He puts the bloodied rag back in his pouch.::

    "... These bastard Gnolls are going to be harder to deal with then I first thought."_


  • tala remembers the king's eye and his overall health and decides to let Tero be the go between. Speaking in hushed tones to him she recounts some information

    Kara told me of the rescue mission… "the captured from the 'attacks' were taken back deep into their territory and then sacrificed on an altar..

    When we arrived, the gnolls appeared to be working with the cultists doing the sacrificing and winged demons presumably summoned from their foul actions. None were left alive around the altar."

    So that is both good and bad news.

    Further another friend found information regarding who they were or are trying to summon. pulls a parchment from her pack she reads from it, for the benefit of the gathered elders and trusted camp members, before handing the copy to Tero

    Amongst the ranks of the demon princes, Yeenoghu is one of the most powerful and most feared. He dwells in a great mansion the size of a large city. It rolls across the barren salt-waste of his layers, pulled by slaves and controlled by gnolls.

    Yeenoghu resembles a human in general form, but only at first glance. His head is that of a hyena, his chest is canine in form, his hands are paw-like, and his feet are pawed. Yeenoghu is thin to the point of being skeletal, and his only body hair is a mangy crest of putrid yellow from his head to his mid-back. Yeenoghu’s skin is a dead gray in color, and it is smooth. His eyes are lambent amber and large.

    voice drops even lower and points to a word on the scroll no one knows what this word means....

    looks gravely at Tero and Elera


  • A very shaken looking tala goes in search of Tero and Elera asking them to accompany her when she speaks to the king. Mumbling something about very grave news to them both.


  • :Late one evening Tero stands before the fire, an arm in a sling, his face bruised, the corpses of the latest Gnoll attack still being gathered and thrown on bonfire:

    _I suppose I owe you all an update on what's been happening in the Camp the past few days…though little of it is good news, or even makes much sense.

    An officer from the Eastlanders came to our Camp the other day, saying that a old woman was taken right out of the midst of their town...that this old woman was some sort of :coughs: concubine to old Atol. He said that Gnolls appeared in a flash of light and were mostly killed quickly by the Eastlanders except when it was over, they realized that there was a woman missing. Also, the Eastlanders searched the fallen shaman of the Gnolls and found small symbols, apparently holy symbols, of some sort of weapon, apparently a flail. Scratched into the surface of these miniature weapons was a word...or a name: Yeenoghu. We need whatever information we can get on that name, the King himself is asking all to look into it.

    Now, a few days ago, the King asked me to take a few north into the Gnoll controlled lands. The damned jackels had seemed quiet the last few days, after they captured and...did whatever they did to those poor captives. I took a few good men and we opened the gate on the bridge and went north.

    We encounted a few gnolls, perhaps more than normal, but nothing like the packs we had seen and heard about...at least at first. As we went deeper into their lands, we noticed hearing more and more howls and before we knew it, we were surrounded by dog men, their jackal faces grinning, yipping and howling at us. We attempted to withdraw at that point, and were immediately set upon by many laughing, snapping gnolls. How I survived, I am not sure. I fought for my life, as did each of the others with me, yet I saw each of them brought down, leaving only myself. I fought knowing that today it might be the last fight for old Tero, but then found that I had fought my way back to the southern entrance and made my way across the bridge and ordered the gate locked and barred. I redoubled the guard along the chasm and went to my tent after seeking healing, my wounds nearly mortal. That was three days ago._

    :Tero lowers his head a moment, then raises it again, his eyes closed:

    _The attack last night was sudden and without warning. We first knew they were in the Camp as their beastial howls and yips filled our homes. They were pouring over the bridge, the guards that I had set no where to be found, and coming also from some portal of light deep inside our Camp. As some of you know…it was a close thing. We lost at least another ten Rom last night...and I'm sure some of you are wondering why the King himself isn't telling you all this. Well, King Horgan has been injured. He has been blinded in one eye in the fighting and at rest in his tent, trying to recover the best he can.

    We need to find out how they are creating these cursed portals and why there are so damned many of them. We kill one and three more seem to take their place. Something is very wrong here._

    :Tero slumps to the dirt, staring at the fire, his face pale and drawn:


  • _A branch above the fire creaks. Several Romani and Gali follow it… thinking that it be a spider, but it does not chitter like they do. It leads to one of the canyon walls to the north.

    There is a wizz and arrows thunks into the ground inches from several Romani and Gali feet. They come in quick succession... almost like there is numerous shooters in the cliffs. The fletching is made of unusual feathers that have been dyed green and a perfectly straight birch shaft.

    As soon as the barrage comes and before any can react... it ends... and ends in silence.

    A rough rope drops in a bundle at the edge of the cliff. Making everyone jump and draw thier weapons in preparation. But nothing more comes.

    A few moments of tense silence later, back near the fire; a small brown elf sits next to Swordmaster Tero and chews on a long blade of grass. Her voice rings off the canopy of trees above..._

    "Flying Shwordsh hash more to worry over than bridge and few magicsh of dog mansh. The Romani live in bowl and never think of the rim above. Live in bowl… will become dish of food if not try look over edge of bowl to shee knife and fork coming to chop you up."

    ::grins her pixies grin::

    "Yeshyesh?"


  • ::Eyes downcast, staring into the flames, frowning slightly as his listens to Tero speak. He pulls his gaze from the fire after a time and looks to him.::

    "I'm not sure… but I might have an idea about what's got the Gnolls so worked up... I would speak with you privately when we get the chance."

    ::He turns his gaze to those gathered before speaking again.::

    "As far as how they are able to appear in the middle of our camp… I've not a clue... Perhaps some of the more magically-inclined Rom and Gali would know..."

    ::He looks to the fire again.::

    "If these Gnolls are to appear from nowhere, then we must all keep a close eye on our families… Remain vigilant throughout the nights and we will find a way to put an end to this... Those old dog men may have learned new tricks... But that doesn't make them smart." ::He adds, with a slight smirk.::


  • Use their enemies against them. There must be some other group, preferably non-humanoids, who we know that hates them? The cats from near Peltarch? If we could set them loose on each other….