Agurtha:
You wander the markets keeping an eye out for an obsidian weapon that you could use for your ritual. Unfortunately for you the current human civilazation is in the Bronze Age, and trading with the steel-making dwarves. You can't find a primitive obsidian weapon anywhere.
Eventualy you give up, and return to your home, instructing it to set off to a place where you know you can find primitive goods. You stop at a pasture on your way out of town and suck a cow dry with your life-draining touch, noting that you have gained enough substance to keep you evil eye spell working for 12 hours.
After about an hour and a half to travel you arive at your destination; Fort Bloodstain. Originally built to protect human miners, the fort now constantly changes hands between various underground civilizations who use it as a trading post with the surface world. The most frequent customers are elves, but most of the civilizations who fight to control the fort are willing to trade with just about anyone.
You aproach the fort and call out in the tongue of the elves "Open the gate, I wish to trade!"
The gates swing open and you are greeted by two Olman guards. They begin to search your wagon, but you explain you are an ancient hag and should be respected. Nervous the fish people back off and allow you to enter.
You head to the market and find it bustling with activity, even at the current late hour. "Of course." you remind yourself "Cave people prefer the dark."
The only thing of value that you currently carry and would be willing to part with is the soulless elven ranger. You spot a Shaman's shop that would likely buy such a magical novelty. You also spot a weapons dealer full of obsidian blades for sale! You quickly sell off your victim for 100 cavelobster shell chips, and buy a high quality obsidian sword for 15.
You find yourself holding 85 shell chips, a currency useless elsewhere, in the middle of a crowded market full of exotic, magical, and subterranean goods...
"Spirits guide me lest I buy junk on impulse!"
---
Koral:
You prepare the Drought of the Stone Soldier and load your cauldron into the back of the covered prison wagon, which you instruct one of the Orcs to drive into dwarven territory. You deploy your Kobold scout from the back and instruct him to return when the Ballista operators change shift.
After waiting for a couple hours you are discovered by a patrol of two Speardwarves. The instantly identify you as a hag and raise their weapons. Their civilization, you recall, has a kill on sight policy towards your kind.
The dwarves charge screaming and you, never one to back down from a fight, leap from the wagon and charge back at them. Just before they get into stabbing range you take off into the air, causing them to thrust forward at nothing and become unbalanced. You quickly swoop down and knock them off their feet. You wrestle the spear away from one of your attackers and quickly put it through his skull.
You feel a sharp pain and turn to find the other dwarves spear halfway through your grotesque skinless right shoulder. You howl in wrath and pain before ending the poor dwarf with a fireball.
You examine the damage to your shoulder. It now hurts to move your freakish arm. You feel confident however that you can kick mortal ass with nothing more than your left arm and your magic.
The Kobold scout returns about 30 minutes later, informing you that the ballista operators are changing now. Seizing your opprotunity you instruct the passengers in the back of the wagon to partake of the potion before dragging to cauldron out and getting the horses to drink. You quickly stash the cauldron in a bush so you have more room for cargo before instructing your stone orc to drive your stone horses into the the fortress.
The entrance hall is empty at this hour of the night. You quickly ignite the seige engine at the end of the hallway before turning into the large trade room. Inside are two human and two dwarven guards who your small stone army easily kills. Three unarmed humans surender. Two claim to be slaves, willing to escape peacefully without telling anybody what they saw.
"Rebellion against master a sin..." you muse out loud.
The final human claims to be a prince, and begins to list off a bunch of terrible things that will befall you and your soldiers should you harm him. You are sorely tempted to kill him on the spot, but you also know that many spells call for royal blood or those who possess it.
You turn your attention away from the captives and to the goods, which are arranged into four piles. Closest to the doorway are wooden crafts and goods, which one of the human slaves explains comes from the last group of traders to visit this fortress, the elves. About halfway across the room on opposite walls sit two more piles. One contains the mostly glasswork goods offered by the humans, and the other consists of crates bolted shut. The human slaves have no clue what is inside the sealed crates, but speculate it to be surplus dwarven weaponry. Against the far wall sits a pile of mostly iron, steel, and gold dwarven goods.
You know that the wagon should be parked near a single pile for easy loading, and the closer it is to the door the quicker it can get out. It is likely the dwarves will send a proper military response once they notice the burning siege weapon and get their troops out of bed. You bet you and your army could take about 10 to 15 dwarves at once without having to resort to your prepared spells. The Kobold tells you that the fortress is heavily militarized, and you will no doubt have to retreat before things get too heated.
Celeste:
Not yet deciding what to do with him you tie up your now toungless ex-parrot so that he will not escape until you decide his fate.
You ask Stanton for permission to harvest Jessica's soul. As you approach with gem in hand your old friend begins to whimper and beg for mercy. You hesitate for only a second before pressing the quartz against Jessica's cheek. You feel sorrow and guilt for a breif second as the woman's limp body hits the floor, but it is quickly washed away and replaced by a wicked and unnatural joy. You are one step closer to forming a coven, and the spirts are pleased!
You fall to you knees and begin to emit a laugh that slowly grows and mutates into a soft and imperfect hag's cackle. "Stanton... heh-heh-eck! ...Go outside and dig graves for yourself and Jessica... peh-ick-ick-cik! ...Might as well dig a third one as well in case I decide to kill the messenger later on... Meh-heee-ick-eck!"
Stanton grabs his shovel and heads outside and you spend several minutes on the floor rolling about and laughing in a state of pure orgasmic bliss. Eventualy you pull yourself together and whip up your Drought of Encouraged Decomposition. You undress Jessica and lather the stuff all over her before dragging her out and placing her in her newly dug out grave. Since you are not sure if dealing the killing blow yourself would make you feel joyful or guilty you decide to just let her suffocate underground.
You wait until Stanton finishes digging the other two holes before asking him to disrobe and covering him in your decomposition potion. You tell him to lie in his grave, and you undress to join him.
"One more night of mortal pleasure my love" you whisper as your body twists and warps to enter the form of a troll. "And then an eternity of the closest bond any two individual beings could ever have..."
About 15 minutes later you crawl from the grave and spare Stanton a final look. He is covered from head to toe in troll spittle and wears a single deadly cut from one of your tusks across his forehead. You rush to cover him in needles and dirt before he expires, and thanks in part to your powerful troll form easily meet the deadline.
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Topic: Young Coven: A Hag Adventure! (Read 12680 times)