The Battle of Fort Diligence

About the Saga

The Blackrazors return to the Duchy of Geoff to wage war against the giant invaders.

Timeframe

• Greyhawk Date: Patchwall 4, CY 590
• Real World Date: October 1, 2001
• Read other Blackrazor Guild Sagas

Notable Quotes

"This is like medieval whack-a-mole.” – Lance, referring to the battle against the pyrohydra of Fort Diligence.

What Has Come Before

It has been nearly a year since the Blackrazors last waged war against the giants of Geoff. During their last stint in the capitol-in-exile, Hochoch, they were responsible for destroying the giant outpost in the fallen elven village of Preston, slaying the marauding fire giants who threatened to burn down the Oytwood in retribution, and liberating the village of Oytmeet. But giants were not the only forces of evil they were able to destroy: they succeeded in banishing a shadow dragon that had been lurking in the Dim Forest, slew a dragon turtle that had been feeding on the Javan River, and devastated the local Thieves Guild.

More notably, they succeeded in rescuing the Grand Duke’s youngest daughter, Elania, from the clutches of the vampire Zaund. This creature, awakened by a foolish wandering necromancer, swore vengeance on the Duke because it was the lord’s great-great uncle who had imprisoned him so long ago. The Blackrazors slew most of Zaund’s followers in engagements near Hochoch and Oytmeet, and reclaimed the girl from his clutches. The stunning losses sent Zaund into a retreat.

Meanwhile, the Blackrazors’ successes, combined with those of other adventuring parties in Hochoch, allowed the Duke to reclaim land in the eastern reaches of the former Duchy. Unfortunately, the Blackrazors were not without their failures as well. An expedition to find and retrieve the Duke’s second-eldest son ended in disaster when they stormed a castle they thought held bandits who had captured the Duke’s boy. In reality, the bandits had teamed up with the lordling’s own men to fight off a greater threat: undead warriors. The Blackrazors slew the bandits and lord’s men indiscriminately, weakening them to the point that the undead swarming around the castle could break through its defenses.

The Duke was greatly angered by this fiasco, and the Blackrazors wisely decided to lay low for a while. They left a contingent of redshirts and a few middling level Blackrazors in their Hochoch guild hall and returned to Obsidian Bay. There they engaged Hextor’s tyrannical legions while fighting the Knights of the Iron Nation and a contingent of Hextorites at the once-abandoned Hell’s Reach Keep.

Two months have passed since the Blackrazors’ penultimate fight with the Knights of the Iron Nation. Several Blackrazors were killed in that fight, including the cleric of St. Cuthbert, Calvin Cloudmore, the fighter Alaric, the bard Yogesh and the guild weaponmaster Gef Ironhold, while the gnome Gnarth Binderstone was turned to stone. The wily elf Malaclypse was also killed in the fighting, after a magical bean he planted spawned a bizarre eye. This eye stared at him, and when Malaclypse saw it he was instantly transformed into an ice statue. The rest of the Blackrazors didn’t’ know about his transformation. When their battle with the Knights ended (a battle that resulted in heavy casualties on their side as well), the guild left … and Mal melted in the harsh Pomarj sun.

Back in Obsidian Bay, the Blackrazors rested, recovered and restored what fallen friends they could. Calvin Cloudmore drew breath again after being raised by his church. He vowed (again) to turn his back on the adventuring life once and for all, dedicating all of his time to the Caring Cudgel orphanage and to his congregation in the Mudsitters District.

Alaric was also raised, but in return for this miracle, Heironeous demanded that the herald forever fight in his gods name as a holy paladin. Gnarth was transformed back into living flesh by the Blackrazor Guild’s high-ranking mages.

Gef Ironhold had been accidentally decapitated during the fighting when the Blackrazors thought he was an operative of the knights (but was really just under their mental domination). This prevented the Blackrazors from having their faithful hireling raised by any of the churches in the Bay. Instead, they buried him in Alton’s Grove at the Blackrazor Brewery.

Mal was simply lost. The Blackrazors were unaware – and remain unaware – of what happened to him. They did, however, get some indication of his fate when the received a letter from the Knights thanking them for the strange ice sculpture left at their fortress … and explaining that it made for some excellent chilled wine.

The Blackrazors have a long-standing policy of monitoring their far-flung settlements via their prized crystal ball. On the morning of the 4th of Patchwall, CY 590, Sven Kildare was performing the daily checks when he came across a message scrawled in the Hochoch Guild House: “HELP NEEDED NOW!”

Sven relayed the message to Guildmaster Tanevir Calywn, who spent a moment contemplating what to do next before summoning a few of the guild’s giant-fighting veterans. The note was cryptic, and didn’t say what the problem was, but clearly, the time had come to return to Hochoch…

The Saga

Patchwall 4, CY 590

The Blackrazors contingent – teleported by Tanevir – arrived in the Hochoch Guild Hall to find most of the hall’s three dozen redshirts passed out and stinking of ale. Broken casks lay scattered about the guild hall while rusting weapons lay piled haphazardly near the door. The building itself was more or less intact.

Clearly, two months was far too long to leave their underlings unsupervised.

The only redshirt with enough sense remaining in his skull greeted the Blackrazor. “Greeting sirs! The little big guy – I mean, the vice chancellor – wants to see you.”

Tanevir nodded. “And did he say why?”

“Well, there’s been a lot of fighting lately. Giants attacking, villages getting destroyed. Biggest attack since you honorable sirs left last year. The Duke’s been calling up every adventuring guild and free-sword in Geoff to turn them back.”

Tanevir simply nodded, then turned to the senior guild members. “Go to the Duke. Find out what’s happening. You know how to reach me if the need arises.”

• * *

Vice-chancellor Merdan Zalehar grimaced as the Blackrazors walked into his office. The duke had once called them a wandering band of destruction. And now they were in his office. With a troll.

He recognized a few of them – the dwarves, D’klar and Moriam, the elf Erilar, and the ranger Kannett. But the others – a man wearing Trithereon’s rune of pursuit, the hulking barbarian and … the troll – he didn’t know. A wandering band of destruction indeed, he thought.

“And who speaks for the Blackrazors today?” he said.

The hulk and the individualist pointed toward the troll. “Of course,” the vice-chancellor muttered. “It would have to be the troll.” He stiffened his back. “And your name is?”

“Greggor,” the troll said, and then showed too many teeth as he smiled.

“Well … Greggor … I welcome the Blackrazor Guild back to the Grand Duchy of Geoff. When last you were here, you accomplished a number of great tasks: freeing Preston, Derelion, and Oytmeet, rescuing the Duke’s daughter from the vampires, and at least one tragedy … which will remain unnamed. After your departure, we were able to take advantage of your victories, reinforcing Oytmeet with a large garrison, building a new fortified village near Preston, and working with the rangers and elves of the Dim to re-settle Derelion. In addition, thanks in large part to agroup of adventurers known as the Steelstorm Guild, the Duke’s Army was able to retake the Lea and Gorna.”

“Yes, hope has grown in your absence, and Geoff has prospered. But now that prosperity is threatened – the giants have begun a major offensive, attacking all of our settlements west of the Oyt River, and threatening to strip away all of our gains. Worse, they are wielding even more powerful versions of the strange rune-engraved weapons that you discovered during your previous adventures. We have determined that these runes are empowered by divine energy, and that they bear a more than passing resemblance to certain ancient dwarven runes.”

“Again, giants of all kinds – from lowly hill giants to mighty fire giants – are engaged in the battles. We have come to believe that their must be an even greater force that is driving and coordinating them. Giants and their ilk are never this motivated – and this organized – for this long. We do not know what this force is, but we believe that if it can be destroyed, the giant occupation will splinter. Tribes will resume their infighting, giving us the opportunity to drive them from the lowlands.”

“To this end, the Duke has declared that he will give land and title to those who pierce this mystery and break the leadership of this unknown cabal. He has called upon all of the city’s adventuring guilds and bands to take up this quest, and that would be why I have summoned you before me. I am … aware of the Blackrazors’ destructive prowess, and while I have no desire to see it practiced in Hochoch, I believe you can accomplish great good in the field. Perhaps you will even pierce this enigma.”

A few Blackrazors laughed at this, but Kalib just nodded, saying “We will gladly take up this quest, correct Troll Greggor?” The troll snarled slightly, then growled an amicable “yes”.

“But before you take up this quest, the Duke needs your help in another matter. As I said, our frontier towns are under attack. I have already dispatched troops to aid in countering the marauders at Oytmeet and Gorna, but I need someone to reinforce The Lea. I sent a detachment of Steelstormers to the town two weeks ago when the siege began. However, I just received a message via carrier pigeon that indicates these reinforcements were not enough – they need individuals with more raw … power … to deal with the giants. I ask you to aid in this particular cause. Defeat the giants there, and then find out who is behind this. And stop them.

• * *

The Blackrazors returned to the guild hall to find a man in finely-crafted black and red silks waiting on their front step. “Is the honorable master Malaclypse with you?” he said, bowing as he knuckled his forehead.

“No,” Kalib said, barely containing his laughter, “he’s taking a bath.” Someone said “You could say he’s slipped through the cracks.” The man looked at them with confusion, which was only right – he had no way of knowing that the notorious, if wily, elf had been turned into an ice statue and left to melt in the hot Pomarjian sun only two months earlier.

“Who would you be?” Greggor said, his surprisingly cultured words sliding past his yellowing troll teeth.

“I … I would be Evert. An aide to Master Malphas. A getter of supplies, finder of information and arranger of deals. I was, admittedly, in a bad way when the good master was last here – being a refugee can be such a trying experience. But I have … prospered … since then. It is truly a shame that I can’t speak with Master Malphas, but I gladly offer my services to you. Is there anything you need sirs? Anything I might be able to help you with?”

Kannett stepped forward, and threw the man a small purse with 20 gold coins. “We need us a ship to carry us down river, past the Oytwood. Arrange it.”

Evert smiled as his fingers quickly ran over the coin’s in the purse. “Yes sir, gladly sir. And when would you like this ship to be available?”

“First thing tomorrow morning” the ranger said.

“Excellent sir. Now if I have your leave…”

Kannett nodded, and the odd little fellow scampered down the streets of the Tannery District, heading toward the docks.

“Strange man,” Kannet said. “Where to now?”

Kalib cracked a wry grin. “Now? Now we head down to the Giants Eyes.”

• * *

The Giants Eyes Inn hadn’t changed much since their last visit. Shelves still lined the walls, and still standing on those selves were jars filled with giant eyes of various sizes and colors. It looked as though about three dozen jars had been added over the last year. One new addition was huge glass jar sitting on the bar counter. A small crudely penned sign said “Pickled Ogre Eyes: 5 for 1 silver.”

The patrons were much the same. Adventurers new and old were scattered around the inn, fewer now because of the new war. Clustered around a table at the far back of the inn were a half-dozen extremely self-assured individuals dressed in fine, but not ostentatious clothing. Well-crafted, but not gaudy, swords hung in scabbards at their waists, and they talked quietly amongst themselves.

“Who are they?” Kalib asked as he approached the bartender. “Them? They’re Stormers. From the Steelstorm Guild”, he said, reaching for mugs as he saw the rest of Kalib’s companions enter. “Good folks those Stormers. Good giant-slayers.”

“Thanks,” Kalib said, putting down a silver for a mug of ale, and walking back to the Stormers, followed by the rest of the Blackrazors, including Moriam, D’klar, Kannett and Troll-Greggor. The Stormers watched their approach warily, hands dropping to their sword hilts.

“Can I help you?” asked a man wearing a navy blue cloak lined with silver thread. His blue eyes looked skeptical. “I am Kalib Ironfist. These are my colleagues. We are the Blackrazor Guild.” The Stormers exchanged quick glances, and then slowly moved their hands back onto the table. “Ah, the senior members, yes?” the man said. “I’m glad to see you’ve returned. We’ve had problems with your ‘redshirts’ – public urination, small fires, rampant drunkenness. They could use a strong hand.”

“I see … well, we’ll work on that. And your name?”

“Lt. Kal Randell. Of the Steelstorm Guild.”

“I thought your guild was out fighting at The Lea?”

“Indeed. We have men there as well as in Oytmeet and Gorna. I truly wish I were there, but the Duke asked the guild to keep some men in the city. If the giants should break through, and march on Hochoch, we will be the last line of defense.”

“I see … well the Duke has asked us to reinforce your men … do you know anything about the base commander in there?”

“Yes. He’s an excellent commander by the name of Cooper Madlough.

Troll-Greggor snickered. “Cougar Madlove?” The rest of the Blackrazors barely contained their laughter, remembering their previous debacle with Obsidian Bay’s Starfire Guild over their dead halfling companion “Longpipe”.

“Cooper. Madlough,” Randell stated slowly.

“Ah, and he’s the commander in the Lea?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Well, good to know. How many men did you have out there?”

“About three dozen. They left about a week ago to reinforce the town when the Duke learned about the attacks. They’re good men, very competent. But if the giants are really besieging the village, they’ll need all the help they can get.”

And at that moment, Ragnar made his appearance. The legendary Blackrazor was followed by nearly two-dozen bleary-eyed red-shirts. He immediately went to the bar, where he slapped down a handful of silver and started plucking ogre eyes from the pickle jar. He devoured them happily, inspiring the red-shirts to do the same. Their constitutions were not nearly as strong as the barbarians, and they were soon vomiting at a corner table.

Kalib shook his head, then looked at the Stormers. “We’ll do our best.”

• * *

Evert was waiting for them back at the guild hall. “Your excellencies, everything is in order. The sailing ship The Limping River Eel awaits your arrival at the docks. The captain assures me it is an excellent water craft, one of the best on the river. Is there anything else I can do for you? ”“Very good,” Troll-Greggor said. “While we’re gone find out what you can about who’s behind the giant attacks. Rumors, tall tales, outright lies – all of it. Be prepared to present your findings when we return.”

With that, Evert left and the Blackrazors packed their belongings for the trip down river.

• * *

The Limping River Eel lived up to its name. The river barge was listing badly when the Blackrazors arrived, and the crew was working hard to bail it out. The ship’s captain introduced himself as Olley. “Good day my sirs! Mast’r Evert said you’d be commin down. The Eel, he’ll be ready to go just as soon as we finish up some repairs. Minor repairs, yes, yes.”

Kalib and Greggor looked at the ship skeptically, while the dwarves looked on with outright disgust. “And how much are we paying for the privilege of this trip?” the troll asked “Well sirs, that would be 2 coppers a piece sirs. Best rate on the river sirs.”

The Blackrazors glared at one each other. Evert had played them all. “We will have to have a talk with Mr. Evert then,” Greggor growled. “Have you heard anything about the giant attacks? Who’s behind it?”

“Oh well, sirs, there’re lots of stories, lots! Some day it’s these evil elves living down in the ground. Some say it’s an evil archmage who’s got them all under his spell. And some say it’s a big giant clan. Lots of rumors sir, yes sir,” the captain said, wiping his head. “Me, I think they’re just doing it because they like to.”

• * *

Erilar took one look at the ship, and immediately headed down the dock looking for alternate transportation. He found it in The Eldritch Wish. The ship, crafted with the aid of the Oytmeet elves, was a thing of beauty. It’s graceful lines mirrored those of its captain, the half-elven woman Allison Riverdream. Passage down river was a gold coin a piece, which the Blackrazors were more than willing to pay. They politely declined transport on the Eel, and boarded the Wish instead.

Patchwall 6, CY 590

The next day’s travel passed on eventfully, and on the 6th of Patchwall the Blackrazors disembarked from The Eldritch Wish and began their overland trip to The Lea. A few hours after leaving the ship, while shadowing the outskirts of the Oytwood, they caught site of a heavy black plume of smoke rising over the horizon.

As they closed on the plume, they discovered its source – a small fort with wooden palisades that was burning out of control. From behind its crumbling walls, they could see some massive, multi-headed, red-scaled creature. Ragnar charged in and recognized the creature from a battle outside of Greyhawk several years earlier: a hydra.

But not just any normal hydra. This one had nine heads, and as Ragnar charged the heads lashed out with jets of flames that seared the barbarian. Ragnar shrugged of the blasts thanks to a divine spell he’d cast earlier, and proceeded to start hacking at the creature’s heads. The handful of defenders remaining at the fort fled the battle, gladly leaving it in more capable hands.

Kalib was the second Blackrazor to engage the monster. Again the creature breathed, but like Ragnar, Kalib had uttered a prayer his god that protected him from the flames. As he wielded Justiceseeker, slicing off the creature’s heads, the sword whispered in his mind. It’s unfortunate that we are not striking down murderous, but this abomination is worthy of being slain.

They were supported with deadly missile fire provided by Kalib’s longbow and Troll-Greggor’s crossbow, but the weapons proved ineffective against the beast.

In a few moments, they saw why. Blows against the creature’s bulk didn’t appear to harm the creature. Worse yet, for every head that Ragnar and Kalib cut off, two grew back. Erilar and Greggor, accompanied by the ranger Kannett, approached the creature with their close-range weapons drawn, and proceeded to aid Ragnar and Kalib in their battle. The party’s dwarves had been left behind by the over-eager Blackrazors, but when they managed to close a minute or two later, the creature was still alive.

Worse yet, it now had almost twice as many heads as it had started with! Clearly the only thing this hydra had in common with the monstrosity they’d encountered outside of Greyhawk was the number of heads. A change of tactics was needed.

Troll-Greggor pulled back from the battle, and contemplated the situation for a moment. He wracked his brain, trying to remember any tiny bit of lore that he could about this beast. Then it came to him. He’d once heard a tale of a legendary warrior who fought a similar monster – for each head he sliced off, two grew back. He managed to prevent the budding by burning each stump after he sliced off a head.

But in this case, the creature was immune to fire. Maybe something else – acid? cold? – might do the trick. “We should try acid or frost against the beast!” Greggor said, shouting his epiphany to his fellows.”

Kalib groaned, stepping over the ever-growing pile of hydra heads while slashing against at the beast. “Ice? Acid? Those aren’t Blackrazor strong points.” It didn’t take long for the rest of the party to agree – somehow they had managed to go into the field without a single battle mage. The clerics – Moraim, D’klar and Ragnar – could produce fire in great abundance, but not a single chill or drop of acid.

It was Erilar who hit upon the key to victory. The fort wasn’t large, but it did have a small smithy. Erilar ran to it, and began searching its ruins for any acid that might have been used in the crafting process. He was in luck, finding nearly a dozen vials of the corrosive fluid. He ran back to the battlefield, tossing the vials to his most dexterous allies as he did so. They quickly doused the heads they slew with acid, and to their amazement, it worked. The heads stopped growing back and within minutes, the beast was finally dead.

While the last of the fires sputtered out and the Blackrazors cut open the creature’s gut in search of treasure. They found it – just over 1,300 gold coins of Geoff minting, a magical ring and an enchanted steel ring. Later divinations revealed the ring to be a ‘ring of courterspells’, which would allow the wielder to have a spell cast into the ring, and then use it to negate that exact spell at a later date.

The haggard defenders returned, led by a man introduced himself as Sgt. Donnach. “I can’t thank you enough for arriving when you did. Much longer and Fort Diligence would be smoking ruins.” He took off his helm and looked around. “Well, more so than they are now at any rate.”

Experience

Not available.