Storm King's Thunder

SKT.14: A Conch Fit for a Queen

Campaign Date: 27 Eleint (The Fading)  1493 DR, Year of the Purple Dragons

I was going to start this entry by explaining to you, student of the Fool Hardy Fellows, that this is how not to be an adventurer. Our heroes got in over their heads and on the verge of something awful. 

However, Tymora blessed them once again, for in the room adjacent to the kitchen they found sixteen soon-to-be-dead hostile creatures. Six goblins sighted shortbows atop a 10-foot wide, 20-foot high wooden ledge that ran the perimeter of an enormous dining hall and throne room. Layers of mud and caked, rotten food carpet the floor dotted by white bones sucked dry. Five male hill giants, laid about the room lazily on stools and leaned against tables, exhausted from raiding the countryside. Their queen Chief Guh commanded the simpletons to battle, slumped atop a creaking four-wheeled, flatbed wagon bent under 20,000 pounds. Four ogres were interrupted from their offering of raiding spoils to retrieve their greatclubs. Slurring giantish commands, Guh gurgled her lazy, tired giants into melee with the heroes.

It's quite a shame no bards were present.

The start was forgettable, however, as Edmund chose to gum his pixie dust instead of the patented FHF snort. Bugging out, he immediately dropped to a deep slumber with a loud thud. Thankfully, Pust's snake familiar was nearby to provide the sweet nothings in his ear that rouses a man awake. The giantkin closed in by throwing some dining tables end-over-end and the slugfest began. Tormir, delighted to be in such close melee, acquired the most layers of blood his armor had ever seen, knocking giant after giant down.

Ghalvin Dragonmoor, half-elf scout of Goldenfields popped a few ranged shots off to join Pust's skeletal archers, shielded from the melee by the phalanx of Tormir, Phineas, and Bjorn. Arrows from above, cuts from below, the giantkin were bottlenecked in between their 10 ton leader and a structural pillar. A magical emerald was thrown and smashed by Bjorn, summoning a large water elemental to slam some of the goblins and consume the ogres. The elemental proved a strong ally to both dish out and take blows for the entire fracas, whether subsuming ogres or greatclub blows. The spellcasters took note of the sheer elemental power which turned the battle in the heroes' direction. Ogre tears mixed with the bloody sea foam to lay a moist grave for more than one ogre. Meanwhile, the phalanx was still adjacent to their watery ally. Phineas, by that time, had cast spirit guardians to summon his naked baby Phineas smackdown servants. Allosaurus-shifted Bjorn wasn't far- Intending to scare the piss out of the pitiful goblins, he charged and leaped up onto the ledge, only to crash and destroy it in a wooden rubble heap with all his dino girth.

Oh, and the barbarian Gryhark had his time in the spotlight! Well, as a greatclub punching bag, anyway! To everyone's delight, he lived to see another day.

Some more well trained shots, round-after-round by the unit of archers found purchase to make a ladder of arrows. The skeletons and the scout maintained advantageous position and continued to prick the large-folk. Ogres vomited from choking on sea water.

Boom: a kill was stolen from Tormir by a well placed shot from Dragonmoor! Tormir entered further enragement.

The tide turned against the giants by about this point.

The wyvern rider whom the heroes spotted a mile out finally revealed himself by running in through the front door opposite the heroes and immediately noticed that the tide had turned. "Who are these who so openly strike down hill giants in their lair?" thought the platemail-clad hobgoblin. A round spent tepidly marching to combat raised his doom-meter enough that he booked an exit and turned tail to see another day.

The goblins, no strangers to a rout, dashed toward the end of the ledge at the front of the room but were waylaid by fire bolts before hitting the floor hard and dead.

Fighting to the death, the giants traded heavy blows- even dropping Phineas' spirit guardians spell from his concentration and forcing him to heal on a few actions. Although not an easy fight, the heroes were greatly aided by their watery magical fighting wave absorbing heavy blows.

Eventually, enough giants went down and all that was left was dear queen Chief Guh. The interrogation went about as well as you could expect it would with one of the participants only able to speak monosyllabic words. However, they were able to ascertain that all the males served as her man-harem and she eats about two dozen livestock a day to please Grolantor, hill giant deity. Phineas cast a spell to view the behemoth's surface thoughts and saw things he can never unsee. Pissed beyond reckoning, the heroes had enough with the blubbering, crying, house-sized simpleton. Noticing the wheel axle bent in precariously the perfect position, Tormir sent a well-placed fire bolt to snap it in two and send the mammoth rolling to the floor. Immediately, Guh tried to get up, but her bones snapped from underneath her mass and she rolled to the 20-foot opening nearby and cracked through the wooden grates to the pig slop filth below. Out of her fatty curtains violently fell a naked goblin, already ninety-percent of the way toward a painful suffocating death. Tormir has no trouble putting one more out of its misery.

Also in her wake were the proud and glorious Fool Hardy Fellows; benefactors of back-door positioning, and a magical elemental-summoning emerald that Keltar Dardragon would have been proud of. The gnome, the halfling, the shield dwarf, the hill dwarf, and the human stood cleaning their weapons and armor of the carnage, collecting their new magical items and armfuls of gold in the process. The heroes were new owners of a magical immovable rod and a rust colored bag that can summon various beasts. Also found was a large and mysterious two-and-a-half foot long magical teleporting conch, a new fascination for Phineas considering the spell's destination is unknown.

Not one for magic, Gryhark the barbarian made his exit about now. Thankful to be rescued from giant captivity, he bit the flesh on his hand to draw blood and smeared it on each Fellow. Pust alerted the ignorant of the grateful religious gesture and the Fellows gained an ally in the Elk Tribe this day, should Gryhark survive the journey home to tell the tale.

They really did it, my reader. 

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