The Further Adventures Of The Turnip… of the Blood Oath?
As noted here, while the party was hiding in the goblin kitchens, Rho rolled a critical success on Search and found something he described as a “fine turnip”. It got wrapped up and tucked away in Rho’s pouch without much investigation, since the party didn’t linger long in the kitchens, and both healers were busy for much of that time. When Rho met his unfortunate end, his belongings were brought out of the dwarven ruins and put on the donkey, where they returned to town with the rest of the group.
There, it was overlooked during the sale of the rest of the loot. Nobody thought that a cast-off vegetable could be considered anything more than a meal of desperation. Afterwards, though, The Knight of the Blood Oath went looking for personal effects to be turned over to The Church.
TKotBO was feeling troubled by the recent adventure. In the heat of the moment, when the party had sighted Kadabra examining the old stone head without benefit of torch or lantern, he had taken the man for an obvious necromancer. Under that impression, he had accepted the party’s subsequent actions as pure prudence. If necromancers were gentlemen, they might deserve a challenge before being attacked, but then, if they were gentlemen, they wouldn’t be necromancers. However, after sleeping on it, he wasn’t sure they had done the proper thing, after all.
“That guy could have been a delver like any of us,” he thought to himself, while rummaging through the disarray of the donkey’s gear. “It’s entirely too easy for delvers to mistake each other for evil monsters. Maybe if we all got together and resolved to tie a colored ribbon around that tree where we keep leaving the animals. We could even claim different colors for different delving bands, to aid in identification!” Pleased with this idea, he considered buying some sort of identifying gear for his fellow party members. Perhaps colored bandannas.
This train of thought led TKotBO to a new realization: with Rho gone, he was going to be the primary source of healing for the group. This is going to be a problem. When they had huddled up in the goblin kitchen and rushed through getting everyone healed up, the only reason it had taken 20 minutes, rather than 2 hours, was because Rho could share his strength with TKotBO and then recover from the effort very quickly. (Or, in game terms, Rho used Lend Energy to power TKotBO’s Faith Healing, then used Recover Energy to bounce back, himself. My understanding was that they were keeping in mind the penalties for multiple healings within a day, and the next time, if there had been one, Rho would have used Major Healing. Without Rho, they’ve only got the one “track” for penalties to supernatural healing.)
He reasoned, it might be a good idea to pick up some healing potions and so forth, in case of emergency. If Alric were to fall in battle, who would hold off the foe while TKotBO got him back on his feet? And could the others win the day while TKotBO then sat to the side, exhausted, reduced to shouting instructions and pouring water over his great helm? No, he thought, it would be much better if he could do the job he had trained for, absorbing the attacks of the enemy, protecting his comrades, while one of the nimble, but poorly armored, party members administered a healing draught.
And what if it were the other way around, and it were TKotBO who fell? Who would heal the healer?
Being (obviously) the sort of man who believes the best offense is a good defense, his mind turned to the shield he had seen for sale, but couldn’t afford. It was a fine piece of craftsmanship, in itself, but unique in his experience for its enchantment: the face of the shield would change to reflect the weather and state of the sky above it, even if it were taken indoors or far underground. If the day were clear, one could judge the time of day from the angle of the sun shown on the shield.
With these expensive things weighing upon his mind, saddened at the loss of his comrade, worried about the fate of his friends on their next trip into the dungeon, TKotBO went to clean out Rho’s saddlebags….
… and found a fist-sized package swaddled in some of Rho’s holy vestments, that weighed far more than any turnip should, unless it were made of metal. Upon inspection, and after brushing off a thick layer of grime, Rho’s turnip looks more-or-less like this. It’s made of orichalcum.
Thinking of all the good he could do, for his own party and, yes, for all the bands of good and honorable men going down into the dwarven ruins and risking their lives for the glory of the gods*, if only he could secure adequate funding, TKotBO scratched his chin** and asked himself, “What was that fellow’s name, again? Mamu, that’s right, Mamu, the man-servant of Strang…”
(To be continued)
* TKotBO is generous in his views of others’ motivations.
** … with a piece of hay stuck through his helmet’s visor. If TKotBO isn’t wearing his armor, he’s in his union suit. If he’s in his union suit, and awake, he’s probably doing some kind of armor maintenance.