NOTE: These early tales are taken from the stories of the band’s early days. Some are before I joined the adventure. I have tried to keep the words of my companions as close to accurate as possible. I can be in no way held accountable for their veracity. Enjoy!
Our adventure begins…
…with the party departing Highmoon in Deepingdale headed east along the trade road. After a few hours of walking the road, they investigate the sounds of a young boy crying and are quickly introduced to Michael. Michael, a human boy about seven years old, is the son of a woodsman that lives close by in Semberholme. Michael is looking for his friend, Drake. After an exchange of questions and answers, giving as only a small child can give, Michael departs.
The party trails Michael to his home, verifying his story. They spend some time searching the deep woods for signs of Drake as they slowly wander back towards the trade road. After some time they discover a trail of small humanoid footprints that leads to a cave nestled in the side of a rolling hill. The forest has been haphazardly cleared in front of the cave entrance. The mouth of the cave is barred by fire it is too wide to jump over.
After a few hours of attempts to overcome the fire pit, to no avail, the party saw a small creature, 3-foot tall with gold, cat-like eyes. Its green skin was thinly covered in coarse, black hair. It had a stooped, crouching posture that caused its knuckles to drag on the ground when it lumbered past the mouth of the cave. Noticing the party, it throws up its hands, screeching, and ran out of sight further into the cave. Hearing what sounded like the rushing of brush the party waited for some form of contact but nothing happened. As the sun settled and the moon waxed the group of adventurers moved atop the hill behind the cave opening and set up camp to await the morning sun.
(Jinx) ended up joining a group…
…that wants to adventure in a bar. I think the ale really went to my head, way to follow in the steps of my grandfather Eniji. Whenever I get home, I will let the wrinkly old bastard know I earned the last name. Maybe he’ll give us a free round.
We are trying to come up with some way to earn enough money to get a license in Cormyr. We were walking on the road and came upon this kid whining about his lost friend Drake. We find a cave of some kind, try to smoke them out, and camp atop. That didn’t work; the cave is too big and we can’t just enter ‘cause it’s trapped. My new friends of ‘good people’ want to kill the people inside…I like treasure, but killing random humanoids is a bit much.
The next morning, more people showed up, profit margin goes down. Cleric determines random goblins are evil. Really we couldn’t have figured that out last night? I climb into the cave; city walls, cave walls-not much difference. I almost got ganged up on and then out of the fire pit comes a person from Thay. They run…my phony…my gold…Of course, I run deeper into the cave, it’s not like I’m going out the front. So after doing a lot of fighting, we take care of the random things. We found the remains of a lost shipment from a merchant house. Personal profit aside, ransoming this will get us the gold amount. Undead dwarf hidden in the cave, check, creepy but check. Missing Drake found, check. Three unexpected random people to the party, also check. Wait last item means my profit goes down, but with a party this large maybe we can attempt another run.
(Rochendir) awoke…
…late in the afternoon, his stomach grumbling and his head throbbing. He must have fallen out of the tree he had tried to hang upside down from last night. Perhaps that would be easier when he had the ability to change into a bat. He hadn’t found much game lately, so he scarfed down some dried fish from his pack to go with the berries he was able to forage. Temporarily sated, he wondered how much longer until his hunger for food would change into a hunger for blood. He had been eating his red meat as rare as he could stand, trying to build a tolerance for the taste, but it had not been without consequence. Shaking that unpleasant memory from his mind, he broke camp and shadowed the road towards Highmoon. He carefully picked his way through the woods, looking for any signs of trouble or food. He barely noticed when a thorn bush left a deep scratch in his hand. Rochendir’s wounds healed very quickly these days with no need for poultices or even a bandage. Regeneration is another trait of vampires, he thought. How much longer did he have?
The evening passed by uneventfully and the ranger was making good progress. He planned to resupply in Highmoon and continue west, hunting the vampire that did this to him. He had to admit though, he rather liked the strength, the stamina, the ability to see in the dark. He could take down much larger creatures than he ever dreamed was possible. The nights were lonely and he longed for his friends and family back in Featherdale, but he told himself that it was better to be alone. He didn’t know when he would turn nor if he’d be able to control himself when he did.
After midnight, Rochendir found some evidence of a struggle. Something had been chasing a rabbit through the brush. The rabbit had veered off deeper into the wood, and the broken branches indicated that the creature had missed the turn. Following the larger creature’s trail for another few hours, he crested a hill and saw his quarry. It was a short, green humanoid with long arms that dragged on the ground. It had hair that almost reached its feet. In one hand it dragged a crude javelin, while in the other was a slab of wood, apparently a make-shift shield. Was this the Boogeyman who would come and steal children away in their sleep? It seemed a curious creature, not too bright, and easily distracted. It would grunt and squeal when the moonlight struck a rock in just the right manner to make it glint from far away, but quickly tossed the rock aside when it became evident that it didn’t shine in his hand. Rochendir followed the creature, wondering if it would attack any passersby or vice versa.
After a few days, he arrived at the mouth of a cave. Just inside, there was a large pit with wisps of smoke and embers rising from it. It was easily twice as wide as Rochendir was tall. The creature moved towards the pit and uttered strange sounds while banging his javelin against his shield. A similar response was heard from inside the cave, along with the scraping sound of something heavy being dragged on the ground. A large wooden plank was slowly coming into view from the far side of the pit. Scanning the rest of the area, Rochendir spotted a woodsman and a skinny, possibly female, beardless dwarf on top of the cave. They clearly had a strong interest in the creature, watching it approach very carefully. They looked like they were preparing to ambush the Boogeyman. Rangers usually didn’t attack creatures without good cause, but he had heard dwarves were very unpredictable. Were they going to kill this creature without provocation? Two more heads popped up from the top of the hill as the beardless dwarf disappeared. One of them looked afflicted with the same disease, only much, much more advanced. Was he fully transformed? Had he fallen to his urges and was he about to suck the blood of this green, gangly-armed being? Rochendir caught the glint of a sword in the moonlight. Vampires don’t use swords. Perhaps he, too, could be saved.
The beardless dwarf popped into view at the top of the cave, skillfully climbing inside. The Boogeyman didn’t seem to notice. Suddenly, the afflicted woodsman and another human with a bow dropped down on top of him. With a mighty swing, the creature was cut in two. The human fired arrows into the cave with sounds of panic, not pain, echoing out. Rochendir crept closer to the tree line, blending with the scenery. From a closer vantage point, he could see another human in chain mail drop down from above, but he couldn’t keep his footing and fell onto his backside. Two more arrows were loosed into the cave, with only the sounds of stone meeting their tips. Were they trying to not hurt these creatures, or were they just inept? Why did they want to get into this cave so badly? A tiny yelp came from the beardless dwarf as she dropped down on the other side of the fire pit. She was suddenly facing to face with two of the creatures, with more very close by. The woodsman stood impatiently outside the cave, apparently waiting for a bridge to appear while the human archer continued to fire into the crowd. As the Boogeymen raised their weapons against the dwarf, Rochendir decided which side he was on. He sprang from the brush and sprinted towards the cave entrance. With daggers drawn, he charged past the three men and dove headfirst over the pit. His daggers embedded themselves into the far wall of the pit as his feet dangled perilously close to the flames. Pulling himself up, he could see the dwarf dodging and weaving around the javelins of her attackers. A quick step brought him right behind them and he plunged his daggers into their necks, killing them instantly. The rest of the green men retreated into the cave. The dwarf looked up at the huge figure, wide-eyed and mumbling “monster from the pit, monster from the pit” impossibly fast. She turned and sprinted into the cave, apparently preferring to face more Boogeymen rather than what just climbed out of the fire pit. Rochester felt a pang of guilt for chasing the dwarf into what surely would be her death, and gave chase.