052 - Snuffing lives: the end of the Palantir Commission Campaign.

Before you read on, none of the deaths were PC deaths. So there, the title is misleading but the post isn't. The Palantir Commission has run its course. This post is the last session report for it, although a character-wise epilogue post will follow (so we can all have some closure).

Ulrich, 324 y.o., ice troll, tumbled down, way down.

I tossed my rock at a little archer, but she stepped aside. Across the room, I saw Armech fall to the ground for no obvious reason, Erlich was teetering. The intruders were streaming up the stairs and were about to break into the temple hall. I jumped over the bannister in an attempt to stomp on the little archer. I missed by a yard, slipped on the snowy stairs and toppled into the void (critical fail). My hand caught the stairs on the other side. I swivelled down by one swirl of the spiral staircase.  I landed on my back, with slightly more than my body overhanging, the snow under me turned to ice as a I slipped.

It didn't hurt, I landed head first on Merloch, who tumbled down the shaft at few minutes ago when the invaders first attempted to get to the temple. It could have been worst.

Erlich, 578 y.o., ice troll, humanely disposed of by a hobbit

I tossed my rock at the leader of the invaders. He, and the little bearded northmen had spoiled our surprise. Me was angry. My rock missed the mark and rolled down the stairs into the wall. To my left, Armech fell over backward for no particular reason. The last thing that I remember is the sight of a knight waving a twig at me. I blacked out. 

I wasn't awake when the battle was over, that Farathu lay dead on the floor and all of my friends but Borkum had died. I wan't awake to plead for mercy: a little hobbit gently walked to me and snuffed my life with a few strokes of a sword. I had so much potential.

Armech, 221 y.o., ice troll, inhumanely disposed of by a hobbit

I didn't even had the time to throw my stone when I felt the choking grip of witchcraft on my throat. I remember the look of Ulrich as I slipped backward and hit my head on the stone bench against the wall. 

When I woke up, both my eyes had been gouged and I couldn't find my bearings. The pain was searing. I could hear the rumours of battle, but I knew that my fate was decided. I tried to stand up once or twice, then I passed out for good.  

KerKhan, 324 y.o., ice troll, his last straw was a... knee lock

KerKhan is enjoying his last second in the upright position.

By the time that I managed to shoot my rock, a hobbit and an elf (without a nose) had run by me. I missed the elf by an inch! I jumped over the bannister and slammed into a Lossoth warrior (Nilppi). The lossoth made a crunchy noise and never stood up from my slam, at least until I expired. 

A little bearded Northling grabbed on to me. I tried to push him off, but he instead latched on with both arms and legs. There was no way that I could get rid of him (10 CP, pretty helpless). A dwarf sung his hammer at me, but I dodged it. Two more humans in chainmails moved forward. The chubby one with a longsword stabbed me in the arm, the other scratched me on the chest. I couldn't do much: even the filthy elf was coming back to hit me from the rear. 

My best bet was to try to jump backward over the bannister in an attempt to pop the northling off my chest. My jump attempt failed, badly: my foot got caught and I hit the bannister at the height of my shoulder blades. In the reclining position, I noticed that reinforcement had arrived! Farathu used his irresistible shout to force the Northling to let go. Borkum was picking up a stone bench to throw at the invaders. The dwarf tried to hit me on the head, but their leader managed to sink his sword deep into my throat. Out of breath, in utter pain, I could feel the Northling grabbing on to my leg but I couldn't shake him off. I don't know how he did this, but he snapped my knee backward. The shockwave ripped up my spine and I finally closed my eyes. 

An airborne stone bench grazed my cheek and slammed heavily on the invaders. But this is not part of my story: I was dead by the time that the bench hit the ground. 

Farathu, 4 y.o., Winter Drake, beheaded in his sleep by a warhammer (ouch!)

Less than a second before Farathu lose his head.

I am the campaign supervillain. I was a little unimpressed when Borkum roused me from my sleep with the news that there was invaders in the temple hall. By the time that we arrived in the hall, KerKhan was swarmed by them. I used my command to force the Northling to let go: he rolled off KerKhan and slipped from my sight. 

By then, KerKhan had been mortally hit at the neck by an inordinately tall man in chainmail. I caught the glimpse of another knight in the background waving a wand at me. His magic was weak, but I flukily was weaker. It was bedtime for this drake. 

I could feel Borkum dragging me on the ground, I was about to wake up. A blind dwarf was running in my general direction, I knew this dwarf... the invaders were the demon slayers from Forochel! My last memory of the screech of a possessed warhammer shearing my head off before I could move it out of the way. 

Borkum, 322 y.o., ice troll, retired to live another day

When I opened the door, a lossoth lay dead on the stairs while the other invaders were swarming KerKhan. I picked up a stone bench and threw it at the knights. The dwarf dodged, the leader mostly got out of the way but got hit on his leg. The brunt of the bench's mass landed on the third knight's groin. He should have died, but he didn't. He instead teetered until the elf caught him and used his witchcraft to prop him up for good. 

I pulled Farathu out of harm's way, but got overtaken by one of them hobbits. The dwarf ran up to the drake and pinned his head against the ground. I panicked and ran off to the hoard room. Some of the invader followed me there. The hobbit tried to make me surrender, but the nicer knight told me that my life would be spared if I helped them recover a large glass sphere. The sphere was across the chasm, and the little bearded Northling tried to make me jump across to get to it. 

The invaders were pretty smart: they found a secret door in the temple which lead to the hoard. They stuffed their pockets with as much gold as they could carry. I carried the big rock for them as we hiked out of the temple and through the valley. We parted the following morning. I was free, and frankly I still don't know what to do with freedom. 

There is a twist, which will be explained in the epilogue post!

045- The longest day on Middle-Earth

This session picked up at the height of a cliffhanger from last session. Arnadil, the company's moody but fearless leader had fallen off the mast and seriously injured his pelvis. Kasper, the squire with spells, has managed to climb up to another mast with only one hand working. The rest of the company is running around trying to hit a winter drake hatchling which is having fun ripping off the ship's rigging. It was dark, in the middle of an unnatural snowstorm, and the company were caught in this while binge drinking, following the death of their friend: Araliniel the seer.

Act 45, Scene 1 - Slipping right through the fingers

One thing that got clear for both parties was that this combat wasn't going anywhere fast. Thannolf began negotiations. The drake asked all to lower their weapons, and in turn the snowstorm immediately subsided. The drake pointed out that their ship was getting in a terrible shape, and that they would need it to escape the angry Lossoths from Mulkan. He pointed out that his army would also be there in a few hours to collect his treasure. He proposed to stop thrashing the Raven against both Southron stones and the gondolin sword.