Wild Watcher

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Planting 8th, 594 CY, City of Greyhawk

After breakfast at the Whitehorse Inn, Galena, Nico, Preh, and Toben collect their rewards from Mung, Jogg, and the Ratcatchers’ Guild. The rest of the morning is spent selling off and identifying much of the loot they collected from the wererats and their allies. That afternoon, they visit the Temple of Pelor in the Garden Quarter, where they donate some of their funds to see if the wolfsbane worked, and it is determined that only Nico is afflicted. He arranges to come back the next day to receive a remove disease spell from one of the more experienced priests (for a hefty donation of 36 platinum plates). Their old friend Verben uses his magic to determine that the silvered short sword claimed by Toben is magical. The rest of the day is spent selling off the rest of their loot and dividing the proceeds. That evening, Nico and Preh meet with their respective superiors, Meg and Tirra, at the Green Dragon and turn over Vernon Atcher’s papers and fill them in on events of the previous day. Luckily, neither woman seems to consider rescuing ratcatchers to be a “guild job,” and don’t ask the pair for a cut of their reward.

[Net loot for each character = 629.79 gp each. After sales, expenses, and current gp:

Galena: 1 potion of clw (25) and 604.79 gp + 552.16 gp (current gold) = 1156.95 gp

Nico: 2 potions of clw (50), mwk silvered dagger (161), 418.79 gp + 1 gp (sale of mundane dagger) = 419.79 gp – 360 gp (remove disease spell) = 59.79 gp + 325.35 gp (current gold) = 385.14 gp

Preh: 1 potion of clw (25), mwk silvered dagger (161), 443.79 gp + 1 gp (sale of mundane dagger) = 444.79 gp + 46.13 gp (current gold) = 490.92 gp

Toben: 1 potion of clw (25), +1 silvered short sword (1165); -560.21 gp + 157.5 gp (sale of mwk longsword) = -402.71 gp + 520.25 gp (current gold) = 117.54 gp]


Session 10, Jan 3rd, 2020, Rob, Rachel, Jason, Shaun, and Ryan present. “Urban Decay,” Dungeon #138.

Dramatis Personae:
Galena, Lawful Neutral human female monk of the Twilight Monastery in the Cairn Hills, 3 days east of Greyhawk. Age 25, 5’7”, 120 lbs, auburn hair, green eyes. (Rachel)

Nico Bolas, Chaotic Neutral human male rogue of Greyhawk City, originally from the Wild Coast town of Fax. Age 28, 5’9”, 170 lbs, black hair, blue eyes. (Ryan)

Preh, Chaotic Neutral human male rogue of Greyhawk. Age 18, 5’5”, 135 lbs, red hair, green eyes. (Jason)

Toben Ricos, Chaotic Good half elf male ranger of the Bronzewood Lodge in the Cairn Hills, 3 days east of Greyhawk, originally from the nearby town of Diamond Lake. Age 30 (22 equiv), 5’8”, 150 lbs, brown hair, geen eyes. (Shaun)

Planting 7th, 594 CY, Greyhawk’s Slum Quarter, outside the Ratcatcher’s Guildhall on Spit Street, late afternoon.

Moments after exiting the Ratcatchers’ Guildhall, Galena, Nico, Preh, and Toben find themselves ambushed by two human thugs with longswords, led by a half-elven sorcerer.

“Warder, Fharling—attack!” he orders.

“How much you wanna bet that’s ‘Needles’?” yells Preh.

The party, though caught by surprise, outnumber their foes, and makes short work of them. While Galena goes back into the guildhouse to inform that ratcatchers there’s more work for the City Watch, Preh, Nico, and Toben loot the unconscious bodies, finding a total of 5 gold orbs, 10 silver nobles, and sixteen cooper commons, and four potions which smell slightly like almonds (potions of cure light wounds). In addition, Needles has two masterwork silvered daggers (one claimed by Preh and the other by Nico) and a pouch containing four sprigs of a purple-flowered plant, which Toben identifies as aconite.

“What’s do you think it’s for?” asks Nico.

“It’s more commonly known as ‘wolfsbane,’” replies the ranger. “It is sometimes used to prevent the onset of lycanthropy. Obviously, Needles knew he was dealing with a were-creature, and kept this in the event things with his ally went south.”

“Does it work?” asks Nico. “Both of us were bitten by Beila.”

“It’s a gamble,” answers Toben. “And the stuff is poisonous in its own right, so taking too much can kill you. However, it’s a risk worth taking, considering the alternative is turning into a man-rat whenever one of the moons is full.”

“Let’s do this then,” says Nico.

The pair each chew a spring of the plant, though Nico has a tougher time dealing with its deleterious effects than Toben.

“We should still visit Verben at the Temple of Pelor at some point,” says Toben, just to be sure it worked.”

“Good thing the next full moon is nearly a month away,” adds Nico.

Galena returns with two ratcatchers and some more rope, and after helping them secure the attackers, the four take their leave, making their way back to the Processional, through the Black Gate, into New City. At the Low Market, the four turn left and make their way west to Greyhawk’s Marsh Gate, where they exit the city walls behind a trash-laden wagon.

“So, this gate leads to marshes?” inquires Toben.

“No, not anymore,” says Preh. “It was drained for farmland long before our time, though it’s still prone to flooding during heavy rains.”

“Where’s that going?” asks Galena, pointing to the wagon.

“Garbage Hill, most likely,” replies Preh. “You’ll see it on the way.”

The four follow the road, lined with many huts and one room tenements. Stray dogs seem to be everywhere. South of the road lies a large expanse of farmland accompanied by a modest manor and more dwellings, while to the north the land rises, forming a steep, forested slope strewn with tons of refuse.

“Garbage Hill?” asks Galena.

“Yup,” says Preh. “A lot of the trash from Old City, the Wharves further north, and the River and Foreign Quarters ends up there—or in the Selintan River.”

“Well, that makes for a lovely countryside,” adds Toben.

“Every few years, the city tries to clean it up, but old habits die hard.”

“Maybe they should hire a druid to stand there and cry every time someone dumps something,” jokes Nico.

“More likely he’d turn into a bear and tear them apart,” says Toben.

“I suppose that would work, too,” says Nico.

Preh continues. “These shacks and tenements are mostly occupied by poor farmers and laborers from the Wild Coast, Nyrond, and other refugees who came here some ten years back after the Greyhawk Wars. A lot of them work for Lord Wheatsmill, who owns the fields and manor house to the south.”

It’s near dark by the time the four reach the Wharves and locate Vernon Atcher’s garbage scow, an ancient boat bobbing in the dark waters of the Selintan River, far downwind of any other human activity. The deck groans under the weight of piles of refuse, their stench almost overwhelming the dock smells of fish and tar. A wooden shack rises from the filth like a fungus.

As they step on the gangway, Toben’s enhanced vision catches something.

“Look,” he says, pointing. “There’s a large bowl by the shack. It says ‘Skull.’”

“Great,” says Nico. “Vernon apparently has a watchdog.”

“Named ‘Skull,’” adds Preh. “Maybe it’s one of those krenshar things Cyrathas had, that can peel the skin back from its face?” (see Growfest 2, 594)

“If so,” says Galena, “Skull’s certainly a more appropriate name than ‘Foreskinface.’”

Suddenly, a skittering sound is heard from behind the shack, and a vile, nauseating stench fills the air, overpowering even the smell of garbage on the scow.

“Uh, guys,” gags Preh, “It sounds like we woke up Vernon’s watchdog.”

“I think you mean ‘watchroach,’” Toben replies, pointing at a gigantic roach, nearly six feet long with an oversized head, crawling over the refuse towards them.

“Gods, I hate bugs!” Galena exclaims.

The four retreat to the docks as the roach advances. Preh, overwhelmed by the stench, staggers away and vomits while the others prepare to engage the beast. The three are hard-pressed, suffering grievous wounds from the roach’s bite. Preh finally recovers and joins the fray, and soon Skull is no more.

After a few blasts from Toben’s wand of cure light wounds, the party step onto the trash-strewn deck of the boat.

“Over there,” says Toben, pointing at a boot sticking out of one of the garbage piles. “We may be too late to save Algie.

Using their weapons, the four push away the refuse, uncovering the partially-eaten body of a male dwarf.

“Not Algie,” notes Nico. “This must be the other missing ratcatcher, Cabe.”

“I’ll get the door,” says Preh, walking over to the shack.

Pulling out his tools and ioun torch, the younger rogue examines the door carefully, finding it trapped.

“Poisoned needle,” says Preh. “Easy fix.”

After disarming the trap and picking the lock, Preh moves aside. “All done.”

“I’ll go first,” says Toben. “If it’s dark, I’m more likely to see him.”

“Great idea,” replies Nico. “Preh, you go next, then Galena. I’ll guard the rear.”

“Bravely, I’m sure,” quips Galena.

“Well, I am the guy with the wand that can hit anything,” responds Nico. “It only makes sense that you’d want to keep your supporting missile fire in a strategic location.”

The others roll their eyes as Toben opens the door to bilevel, crowded cabin, lit by greasy, gray light from a single oil lamp hanging from the ceiling. A paper-strewn table stands to the left of the door, and a short staircase leads down to the cabins lower level. On the staircase stands Vernon, in wererat form, who shoots Toben square in the chest with his heavy crossbow!

The ranger steps back to heal his wounds with his wand while Preh and Galena rush forward with their silvered daggers to engage Vernon, who has now drawn his rapier. Galena jumps on the table to attack Vernon, while Preh attempts to flank him, but to no avail due to the crowded conditions. Nico gets off a few magic missiles, two of them striking, before Vernon decides to concentrate his attacks on the older rogue, managing to bite him fiercely. Toben eventually rejoins the fray, and before long, Vernon is slain, reverting to human form.

Taking a closer look at the cabin, the party see a number of crates, a hammock, and a door. There are also a number of normal-sized rats which scurry about, attempting to avoid the party. Toben searches Vernon’s body while Preh examines the door, Galena searches the crates, and Nico peruses the papers from the desk.

“Take anything that looks valuable,” says Nico. “Even if it has no use to you, we can always sell it and split the gold.”

Toben removes Vernon’s finely-crafted studded leather armor, and takes his heavy crossbow and finely-crafted rapier. He also removes a potion that smells of almonds (cure light wounds) and a large platinum loop earring from the corpse.

Galena finds clothing and personal effects in the crate, as well as a large number of coins (72 gold orbs, 112 silver nobles, and 180 copper commons). She also finds a locked wooden case about 6” wide, a little over 2’ long, and about 4” deep.

“Toben, have you found a key anywhere?” asks Galena.

“Let me look. Yes, he’s got one on his neck. We might want to wait until Preh’s done so he can check that box for traps, though.”

After ensuring the door isn’t trapped, Preh opens it, finding a battered, bound and gagged figure near death.

“Guys! I found Algie! He looks like he needs your help Toben!”

Toben heals Algie while Preh frees him. The ratcatcher tells the party that Vernon has been interrogating and beating him for days, going on about his plans to turn the Slum Quarter, and eventually the entire city, into a haven for his kind.

“Yeah, these papers say much of the same,” says Nico. “Vernon was definitely delusional. He would’ve eventually attracted the attention of folks far more powerful than us. He’s lucky he got as far as he did.”

Nico begins gathering the papers while Preh inspects the box.

“What should we do with those?” asks Galena.

“Weston kept the papers we found among Beila’s belongings to give to the City Watch as evidence,” Nico replies. “But I’m thinking mine and Preh’s superiors might also want to know about this. Maybe not, but we should cover our asses, just in case.”

Preh, finding no traps on the case Galena found, unlocks and opens it, finding a finely-crafted silvered short sword. “Toben, you’ll probably have more use for this than anyone else,” he says. “Vernon probably had it locked up to make sure no one could use it against him.”

“Toben and Galena, why don’t you guys take Algie to the Blue Dragon and use Vernon’s money to get him some food?” asks Nico. “Preh and I have some business to take care of, first. We’ll meet you at his house later.” The five reenter the city via the Cargo Gate.

“I assume we’re going to take care of the dead body and captives we left at Algie’s?” asks Preh once he and Nico leave their companions behind.

“Exactly,” says Nico. “Hopefully, we’ll have time to take care of things before the others bring Algie home.”

It is over two hours past sundown when Toben, Galena, and Algie meet Preh and Nico at Algie’s home in the Slum Quarter. Given that the four adventurers will probably not have time to make it back to New City before the Black Gate closes, the four use some of Vernon’s money for rooms at the Whitehorse Inn, where they stayed a week before (see Planting 1, 594).


Campaign continues at Bastard Greyhawk: Urban Decay: https://paizo.com/threads/rzs43qcd?Bastard-Greyhawk-Urban-Decay


Planting 7, 594 CY, morning (campaign session 9, played December 27, 2019)

Preh and Nico meet Toben and Galena that morning at the Blue Dragon Inn for breakfast. Halfway through their meal, they are interrupted by a young boy wearing a blue sash across his chest, identifying him as a member of Greyhawk’s Union of Couriers and Messengers.

“Nico Bolas?” he asks. “I have a letter for you.”

Nico takes the letter and sends the boy on his way with a copper common. The rogue opens the letter and reads it aloud: “To the Slow Boys and their Slow Friends: Meet me at the False Duke’s Stables at midday, if you’re interested in a trade. –Jogg the Titan.”

“Wonder what that’s about?” asks Preh.

“Only one way to find out,” replies Toben.

The four finish their breakfast and make their way east along Horseshoe Road, dividing the River Quarter from the Foreign Quarter, and then turn south on the Processional, the main road bisecting the city on its north-south axis.

“So why does Jogg always refer to you and Preh as ‘slow’?” Galena asks Nico.

“My boss, Meg, started that,” answers Nico, “when Preh and I needed to borrow horses to chase down Irontusk a couple weeks ago.” [see Growfest 1, 594 CY]

“Yeah,” adds Preh. “She wrote a note for us to give to Jogg. It asked him for ‘two fast horses for two slow boys.’ And the damn half-orc ran with it.”

“And dubbed me and Galena slow by association, apparently,” says Toben.

The four follow the Processional through Greyhawk’s Low Market before arriving at the Black Gate, separating New City (the High, Garden, River, Foreign, and Artisan’s Quarters, plus Clerkburg) from Old (the Thieves’ and Slum Quarters). At the open gates, a city watchman clad in a red tabard emblazoned with a stylized golden star records their names and checks their weapons licenses, before allowing the four to pass through to Old City.

Shortly after passing through the Black Gate, Nico, Preh, Toben, and Galena leave the Processional and head east into the Slum Quarter. After navigating a maze of twists and turns along filthy streets and debris-choked alleys, the four arrive at their destination, the False Duke’s Stables.

“Why does he call it that?” asks Toben.

“Jogg?” Preh replies. “The stables used to be owned by a guy nmed “Stairnezh,” who claimed he was Duke Karl of Urnst’s older brother, and thereby the rightful heir. A few years back he attacked the ambassador from the Duchy and was thrown in jail, where he ended up dying, allegedly killed by fellow inmates. The stables were eventually auctioned off by the city and Jogg had the winning bid.”

Nico, Preh, Toben, and Galena find Jogg, a bald, towering half-orc with greyish skin and prominent tusks, feeding the horses. “’Bout time,” he growls. “This way.”

The four follow Jogg into his office, a cramped room with a desk and a few chairs. A fat half-orc with mottled green skin, wearing a flour-covered apron and baker’s cap rises from one of the chairs.

“This here’s m’cousin, Mung,” says Jogg. He has a proposal for you.”

“Hi, Mung. I’m Nico, and these are my associates Preh, Toben, and Galena. What’s your proposal?”

“Well met,” says Mung. “I’m a baker by trade. Best meat pies in town! One of my suppliers, a fellow named Algie, has gotten himself lost. No one’s seen him for a week. I wouldn’t worry, except that four others have gone missing in the last month. All ratcatchers. Two showed up dead.”

“Your supplier’s a ratcatcher?” asks Galena. “So the meat in your pies is. . . .”

“Not always,” replies Mung. “I use pigeon, too. Sometimes even cat, dog, or anything the butchers’ won’t use. No sense in letting good meat go to waste!” he beams.

“Rat’s probably similar to field mouse,” Toben whispers to Galena, “only with more meat.”

Mung continues. “I don’t have much money, but if you find him, I can give each of you twenty-five orbs. Plus, everyone in the Slums knows Mung. Help me out and I’ll make your life a lot easier.”

“And I’ll sweeten the deal by stabling your horses at no charge until Richfest of this year,” adds Jogg.

“Does that include feed?” asks Nico.

“Yup. Water and groomin’, too.”

“What do you say?” asks Mung.

“Shouldn’t a job like this be going through the Guild,” asks Nico?

“Findin’ missin’ persons isn’t exactly something your guild’s known for,” replies Jogg.

“Have you told the City Watch?” asks Preh.

“Yes,” says Mung. “But this is the Slum Quarter. All the watchmen who care about people end up in better parts of the city.”

“As far as we can tell, somethin’ like this doesn’t fall under Guild purview. This kind’ve work-for-hire does fall under those freesword licenses around your necks, though,” adds Jogg, nodding at the strips of tough leather carried by the party, each bearing the city seal and an image of a coin pierced by a sword.

The four look at each other for a moment then nod. “We’ll help you, Mung,” says Nico.

“Mung can fill you in on the particulars,” says Jogg. “I have horses to feed.”

After Jogg leaves, the party presses Mung for more details.

“This was never the nicest part of town,” Mung begins, “but over the last month things have gotten really bad. First, the garbage collectors stopped coming around. Then the sewers started backing up. Word is that the Union of Sewermen and Streetcleaners is striking, but if true, it’s only happening in the Slum Quarter. Now the ratcatchers are turning up dead. Vermin everywhere—and they’re getting vicious!”

“Algie is a ratcatcher,” the half-orc continues, “a good one. Supplies me with nice juicy rats for my pies. Lately he’d been talking about trouble in the guild. Someone was leaning on them, threatening to hurt the catchers if they killed anymore rats. Weston, the guildmaster, might know more. He lives at the guildhouse on Spit Street.”

“Of course, the Ratcatchers’ Guild is on ‘Spit Street’,” says Nico.

“We might want to check Algie’s home first,” adds Preh. “You know where he lives?”

“Snot Alley,” replies Mung. “Second tenement on the right. Room number three.”

“’Snot Alley,’ naturally,” says Nico. “And people wonder why the Slum Quarter isn’t a thriving hub of tourism.”

After getting directions from Mung, the four leave the False Duke’s Stables and make their way toward Snot Alley.

Mung’s directions lead the party to a ramshackle house squeezed tightly between a pair of flophouses. Finding the door unlocked, the four cautiously enter. Finding the dwelling empty, Galena stands watch while Nico, Preh, and Toben investigate the premises.

“Hmmmm,” muses Nico. “The cupboard’s full of moldering food, his clothes are still in his wardrobe, and it looks like wood has been prepped in the fireplace. Definitely looks like Algie planned on coming back.”

“There’s a big crack in this table,” adds Preh, “and scuff marks on the floor. Sure signs of a struggle.”

“More than just scuff marks,” says Toben. “I make out two sets of prints; human-sized boots and larger ones. But they’re clawed!”

“Can you make out what they are?” asks Galena.

“Not really,” replies Toben. “Might be some kind of animal, but it’s on two legs.”

“Not a demon, I hope,” says Preh.

The others glare while the young rogue sheepishly shrugs. “Just sayin’,” he replies.

“Probably not a demon,” says Toben. “It’s hard to be sure on this wooden floor, but they’re vaguely rodent-like!”

“Maybe Algie finally messed with the wrong rat?” muses Preh.

“Like a giant, two-legged rat?” proffers Galena.

“Or a wererat,” says Toben.

“Were-rats?” asks Galena. Like werewolves?”

“Yes,” says Toben. “But they’re rats, instead of wolves.”

“Great,” sighs Galena.

“Can you follow the prints?” asks Preh.

“Not past the door,” says Toben. “No one’s seen Algie for a week, and it’s rained since then. However, there seems to be bits of greenish muck attached to the clawed prints—like the same kind of muck seen around the sewer grates in the Slum Quarter.”

“Looks like Nico’s gonna get his boots dirty again,” jokes Preh.

“Before we go traipsing through the sewers, why don’t we check out the Ratcatchers’ Guild?” says Nico. “Who knows? Maybe we won’t have to go down there.”

“Sounds good, Nico,” replies Toben, “but you know you’re just putting off the inevitable, right?”

“Yeah, probably,” Nico groans.

As Nico, Preh, Toben, and Galena exit Algie’s tenement, they see four rough-looking humans armed with crossbows enter the alley, two on each end. “Looks like someone’s nosin’ around where they shouldn’t be,” says one of the men.

As Nico prepares to talk their way out of the situation, Toben draws his blades and rushes forward to attack. At that moment, the four fire their crossbows, wounding both Toben and Preh significantly. Toben fells one of the thugs with a single blow from his longsword, leaving the fellow bleeding out on the ground.

Nico rushes forward and engages one of the thugs, who drops his crossbow and draws a longsword. Preh downs a healing potion while Galena rushes toward the other two, one of whom drops his crossbow and engages her with his longsword, while the remaining thug reloads his weapon as he back away from the melee.

Toben heals his wounds with a wand of cure light wounds (purchased a few days before with funds the party acquired after their foray into the Tomb of Blood Everflowing), while Nico continues cross swords with the second thug. Preh rushes forward to aid Galena, taking on the third thug while she chases the fourth, who fires a final bolt before rounding the corner out of sight. Within moments, Nico and Toben lay low the second thug, and join Preh, at which point the third one surrenders. They are soon rejoined by Galena, dragging the unconscious fourth thug behind her. The four decide to take their four prisoners, three of them unconscious, back into Algie’s tenement for questioning.

The conscious thug, Rarder Bene, tells them that he and his companions, Kyne, Alad, and Thiles, are members of the Scarred Shadows, a local gang in the Slum Quarter, and they were instructed by their leader to keep an eye out for anyone looking into the missing ratcatchers. When Rarder refuses to divulge his leader’s name, Nico plunges his rapier through the throat of the unconscious Kyne, instantly slaying the man. Rarder breaks and tells them that the leader of the Scarred Shadows is a half-elf named Needles, and that the gang has not kidnapped or killed anyone, but were only hired to “deal with nosy people asking too many questions.” He also tells the party that he thinks the person who hired the gang lives in the sewers beneath the Ratcatcher’s Guildhouse.

The party quickly decides to bind and gag the three living Scarred Shadows and leave them in Algie’s place for the nonce. They then exit the tenement once more.

“Was killing that guy really necessary?” asks Galena.

“It got him to talk, didn’t it?” says Nico.

“Not sure I would’ve gone that way,” adds Toben, “but they did attack us first.”

“And the other three are still breathing,” adds Preh.

“Won’t a dead body complicate things?” asks Galena.

“You heard what Mung said,” replies Nico. “The Watch isn’t too concerned with what goes on in the Slum Quarter.”

“Though Algie’s gonna be in for a big surprise if we’re wrong about him being kidnapped and he just went out of town to visit family or something,” says Preh.

Nico, Preh, Toben, and Galena make their way to the Ratcatcher’s Guildhall, a ramshackle two-story building located on Spit Street. They enter the office and speak with the ratcatcher on duty, a small, plain human named Horace. Upon learning the reason for their visit, Horace calls into an adjoining room, asking one of his fellows to fetch Weston, the guildmaster.

While they wait. Horace tells the party that four of his fellow guildmembers have gone missing in the last month: two human males named Emos and Algie, a human female named Zenna, and a dwarven male named Cabe.

“Emos and Zenna have since turned up dead,” he says. “Found ‘em in alleys, with their throats slit.”

The party also learns that the Union of Sewermen and Streetcleaners stopped working about a month ago, two weeks before the first disappearance. Horace suspects that the Union isn’t striking, but may be taking bribes from someone.

“Has anyone tried to bribe your guild?” asks Nico.

“Not that I know of,” replies Horace. “Weston said he’d received a couple letters telling us to lay off the rats, but he just figured it was some vermin-lovin’ druid or somethin’. Then Emos went missin’ some two weeks back.”

The conversation is interrupted by another guildmember entering from the back room. “Horace! Weston ain’t in his room! It’s like he up and vanished!”

“What about Beila?” Horace asks.

“No sign of her, either.”

“Who’s Beila?” asks Preh.

“Beila Atcher, our newest member,” explains Horace. “She just joined last month. Keeps to herself. Not much of a ratcatcher, but she’s new. Went in to see Weston about two hours ago. We jus’ figured he was ‘oilin’ her rattrap,’ if ya catch my meaning.”

“Show us where they were,” says Toben. “Maybe we can help you find him.”

Horace takes the party through the guild’s meeting room and a storage area, before arriving at the guildmaster’s living quarters, where they find the door partly open.

“Could he have gone upstairs?” asks Nico.

“Nah,” replies Horace. “The upper floor’s rotted and not safe.”

The party enters the guildmaster’s quarters and begins examining the room.

“Weston’s desk is awfully small,” notes Galena.

“That’s ‘cause he’s a halfling,” says Horace.

“Look,” says Preh. “There’s some blood on the floor.”

“Something tells me Beila wasn’t here to get her ‘rattrap’ oiled after all,” comments Nico.

Toben finds a tuft of hair, a scuffed footprint on the floorboards, and another smear of blood leading from Weston’s room to a trapdoor located in the storage area.

“Horace! Where’s this go to?” asks Toben.

“That’s our disposal chute. Leads to the sewers. We use it for waste, plus any rats caught in our traps that we bring back.”

Toben opens the trapdoor, finding a dirty, narrow stone chute descending at a steep angle. “I bet we’ll find Weston down here,” he says.

“Great,” remarks Nico. “I guess I’ll go last, then. Maybe you guys will clean out most of the chute-muck before I get there.”

“At least there won’t be lakes and waterfalls of blood,” says Galena, referring to the group’s foray into the Tomb of Blood Everflowing over a week before.

“That we know of,” jokes Preh. “Don’t worry, Nico—I’ll go first.” The young rogue then reaches into his pouch, pulling out what looks like a fistful of flames, substantially bolstering the illumination from the sunlight streaming through the open windows.

“Whoah! What in the Nine Hells?” exclaims Galena.

“Relax,” says Preh. “It’s perfectly safe.” Looking closer, the others see that the object held between the young rogue’s thumb and forefinger is a greyish ellipsoid about the size of a large die, wreathed in flames. He holds the object about a foot from his forehead and releases it, but instead of falling to the floor, the object begins to slowly orbit his head.

“Nice. Where’d you get that?” asks Toben.

“It’s called an ‘Ioun torch’. Bought it from a friend of Tirra’s—a wizard named Khellek. Lives in a tower in the River Quarter, not far from the Cargo Gate.”

Using a coil of rope from the storage area, Preh, Toben, Galena, and Nico enter the chute.

The four descend into a 10’ wide, stone tunnel laying on an east-west axis. The northern half of the tunnel floor is higher, forming a stone walkway of sorts. The southern half, sitting lower, is filled with sewage and refuse. Preh, overwhelmed by the stench, begins vomiting, but the others manage to keep their breakfast down.

While Preh recovers, Toben inspects the walkway, finding fresh footprints heading east. The party advances about thirty feet, when they see an opening on the southern wall, about sixty feet east of the chute. The passage angles back to the southwest. Ten feet east of the opening, the main passage ends in a door cobbled together from mildewed boards and rusty nails. Splintered pockmarks stud the door’s surface, and dim light flickers around its edges.
“Wanna bet that’s where we’ll find Weston?” whispers Preh.

“What’s with the door?” asks Toben as they approach. “Looks like someone’s been using it for target practice.”

“Maybe it’s a sig. . . .”

Nico’s words are interrupted by a rustling sound, as a swarm of pigeons, disturbed by Preh’s Ioun torch fly from their nests above the door and attack the party. Finding their weapons practically useless, Preh throws a flask of alchemist’s fire at the swarm. Unfortunately, the flames are fueled by the noxious gasses from the sewer, and the entire party is endangered by the flames, with Toben taking the brunt. Luckily, the dampness of the environment keeps the flames from spreading too far.

Soon, the harried party is looking for an escape. Preh reaches the door, and finding it locked, tries desperately to pick it. Toben runs down the side passage and uses the wand of cure light wounds to heal the damage he took from the pigeons and the alchemist’s fire. Nico and Galena run back toward the chute, followed by the pigeon swarm, which passes over them and flies up the chute.

“Huh. Guess they were just looking for a way out,” muses Nico.

“I sure hope the ratcatchers know how to deal with pigeons,” says Galena.

“Hopefully, they’ll just fly out the windows,” says Nico.

At that moment, Preh, unaware that the pigeons are no longer a threat, manages to get the door open, and shut it behind him, finding himself in a roughly 30’x30’ room occupied by a hairy, rat-like female humanoid in studded leather leveling a shortbow. The creature looses at arrow, barely missing the young rogue, who alerts his comrades to his predicament.

“Giant rat!!!” Preh cries.

Toben bursts into the room just as Preh, rapier drawn, is closing with the creature, who has dropped her bow and drawn her own rapier. The ranger finds his way to the beast blocked by a pair of snarling feral cats the size of badgers.

Toben quickly dispatches one of the cats, then moves to aid Preh. Badly wounded by the wererat’s rapier, the young rogue tumbles away and quaffs a healing potion.

Nico and Galena rush to the room and aid Toben, who also suffers a grievous wound from the creature. Preh manages to slay the other cat and joins his comrades, all who have been wounded by the wererat’s bite.

Toben, Preh, and Galena engage the beast in melee, with the ranger and monk finding the silvered daggers they received from the Thieves’ Guild to be quite useful. Nico attempts to activate the wand of magic missiles he took from Veltargo, finally succeeding on his third attempt. After several long moments, the four manage to subdue the creature, though Toben is nearly slain.

While Nico attempts to activate Toben’s wand of cure light wounds to heal the dying ranger, Preh and Galena tie up the unconscious wererat—who has now transformed into a plain young woman with dark hair—with Toben’s rope.

“How much you want to bet that’s our Beila?” asks Nico.

Once everyone is healed up, the party examines their surrounding more closely. Lit by a single, sputtering torch, the filthy room contains a number of small cages stacked against the far wall, one of which contains a hissing cat. The floor is covered with dirty straw, animal waste, and dried blood. On a warped table lie a whip and a small spiked collar. A stained curtain covers a hole on the south wall.

“How come that cat’s caged up?” wonders Preh.

“Probably not trained, yet, is my guess,” replies Toben. “See how the others are wearing collars?”

The ranger walks over to the cage. “Should be safe to free it.” As Toben opens the cage, the cat hisses one last time, then runs from the room in a grey blur.

“Hopefully he’s off to kill some rats,” muses Galena.

Beyond the curtain on the south wall, the party finds a small 10’ x 15’ chamber containing a rank pile of straw and a wooden crate. An unconscious, grey-haired halfling male lies bound and gagged on the ground.

“And this must be Weston,” says Nico.

After reviving Weston, the grateful halfling tells the party that Beila came to talk to him earlier, and knocked him unconscious while his back was turned.

“Well, she’s alive, unconscious, and human again,” says Toben.

“’Human again’?” asks the guildmaster.

“It just so happens that the newest member of the Ratcatcher’s Guild is a wererat,” says Nico.

“That explains the disappearances, I suppose,” replies the halfling. “As well as the threatening messages for us to suspend activities in the Slum Quarter.”

“Hey, I found some letters here,” says Preh, holding up a satchel found atop the crate.

“Anything useful?” asks Nico.

“They’re between Beila and her brother, some guy named Vernon. Looks like he’s been bribing the Union of Sewermen and Streetcleaners to stay out of the Slum Quarter, and threatening the ratcatchers, too.”

“You refused the bribes,” Nico asks Weston.

“Well, uh, no one offered any. . . .” replies the halfling.

“Maybe he ran out of money?” speculates Toben. “Do those letters say why he’s been doing this, Preh?”

“Yeah, the guy seems unhinged. Wants to create a paradise for his ‘people.’”

“So, I guess it’s a safe bet her brother is also a wererat,” says Gelena.

“One more thing,” adds Preh. “The last letter says that once Beila’s secured the guildmaster, she should bring him to Vernon’s garbage scow on the waterfront. It also says ‘Weston might change his mind if he sees another of his ratcatchers die before his eyes.’”

“It sounds like there’s a good chance Algie is still alive, then,” says Nico. “Weston, since you’re the primary victim, what do you want us to do with Beila?”

“Ummm, well, it’d probably be best if she were turned over to the Watch,” he gulps.

“Very well. Do you know a way out of here that doesn’t involve crawling up a dung-slickened chute or wading through sewage?”

The halfling nods affirmatively, and leads the party (with Toben carrying the unconscious Beila) from the sewers and into an alley behind the guild house. Back inside, Weston sends Horace to fetch the City Watch, while Toben takes his silk rope, tying Beila up with the hemp rope they used to descend down the chute.

The group then bids Weston farewell. “Come see me after you find Algie,” he says, “or Cabe. We might be able to scrape together somethin’ for you.”


Continued from Bastard Greyhawk: The Mad God's Key: https://paizo.com/threads/rzs43q94?Bastard-Greyhawk-The-Mad-Gods-Key

Dramatis Personae:
Galena, Lawful Neutral human female monk of the Twilight Monastery in the Cairn Hills, 3 days east of Greyhawk. Age 25, 5’7”, 120 lbs, auburn hair, green eyes. (Rachel out, played by Jason)

Nico Bolas, Chaotic Neutral human male rogue of Greyhawk City, originally from the Wild Coast town of Fax. Age 28, 5’9”, 170 lbs, black hair, blue eyes. (Ryan)

Preh, Chaotic Neutral human male rogue of Greyhawk. Age 18, 5’5”, 135 lbs, red hair, green eyes. (Jason)

Toben Ricos, Chaotic Good half elf male ranger of the Bronzewood Lodge in the Cairn Hills, 3 days east of Greyhawk, originally from the nearby town of Diamond Lake. Age 30 (22 equiv), 5’8”, 150 lbs, brown hair, geen eyes. (Shaun)


Planting 1, 594 CY, midmorning

After a decent night’s sleep and a hearty meal at the Whitehorse Inn, Galena, Nico, Preh, Toben, and Verben return to the False Duke’s Stables, where they had stored some of the heavier loot (such as the shields and scimitars) after paying Jogg the Titan, the surly half-orcish owner. Using a cart rented rented from Jogg, the party loads it down with the weapons, shields and other loot from the tomb, intending to sell it.

Their first stop is Geeridan’s, a general store on Cargo Street in the River Quarter run by a cheery human named Gern Geeridan. He buys the eight scimitars, the ten heavy steel shields, Veltargo’s masterwork morningstar and banded mail, Verben’s old breastplate and mace, and the silver holy symbol of Wee Jas.

Relieved of most of their load, the five then make their way to Theldrat’s Locksmithy in the Foreign Quarter. As they enter the store, the portly locksmith greets them.

“My friends! What news? Did you manage to find my key?”

“Yes we did,” says Nico, removing the key from his pocket and handing it to the coppery-skinned man.

“I knew the Guild was a good as their word!” he exclaims, overjoyed. “Where did you find it?”

“Oh, only about 30 miles north of here,” says Toben.”

“In an ancient tomb containing a lake of magical blood,” adds Preh.

“Ah, yes. I was going to ask what happened to you,” the merchant replies, nodding to the party’s stained clothing and gear. “It sounds frightful.”

“It was,” says Nico. “Ruined my best shirt.”

“A cell of Vecnan cultists was holed up in the tomb,” says Galena. “Along with their undead minions.”

“They apparently needed your key to open the locked book stolen from the Great Library last week,” says Verben. “Unfortunately, doing so seems to have drained your key of all its magic. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no,” Theldrat says, sullenly. “Well, at least it is no longer in the wrong hands. Forgive me, but I fear I have little in the way of rewards to offer. I am in your debt, my friends. Should you have need of my services in the future, or simply need a place to meet away from prying eyes, please, call on me.”

“Perhaps we’ll be back by this evening,” replies Nico. “We have some artifacts from the tomb we plan to sell, so a quiet place to split the proceeds would be most welcome.”

“We’d also like to leave our cart here for awhile,” says Toben. “We’ll return it to Jogg at the False Duke’s Stables when we return.”

“Nonsense,” says Theldrat. “I know where the False Duke’s Stables are. I will return it for you while you are running your errands. Then I will fetch some ale and await your return. It’s the least I can do, my friends.”

The group accepts Theldrat’s offer and bids the locksmith farewell. The party then make their way to Geld’s Maps, where they thank Lazzarin Geld, the proprietor, for his aid in finding the Tomb of Blood Everflowing. They spend nearly an hour there, as the aged cartographer has many questions about the tomb, and furiously writes down their answers. He even enlists the party’s help in drafting a rough map of the interior. The party also gives the old man one of the cairn charms keyed to the place, warning him that the cult may still be about. He assures them he won’t be going there himself, but may enlist someone more able-bodied.

As the party leaves Geld’s they discuss what they might do with the remaining six cairn charms.

“We should give at least one to the Greyhawk militia, when we report the cult to them,” says Verben.

“Agreed,” says Galena. “That leaves five, and there are five of us. We should each keep one. They’d make a nice memento of our experience there.”

“Which was anything but enjoyable,” says Nico.

“But memorable for sure,” adds Preh.

“Sounds good to me,” says Toben. “But we might ask Altamaic if he wants his back, first, since he gave us the first one to begin with.”

The others agree and decide to visit Altamaic at the Temple of Boccob, after returning the stolen book to the Great Library.

The five make their way to the Great Library in Clerkburg, which is open once more. There, they make contact with Geraal Wistroan, the young scholar Preh, Nico, and Toben met at the library the week before. When they tell him of the book, Geraal immediately takes them to the head librarian, a learned sage named Iquander. Though he’s alarmed by the book’s damaged state, Iquander and his fellow librarians are pleased to have it returned, and intrigued by the fact that its magical lock has now been opened. He immediately sends Geraal to fetch a reward, and the young scholar returned with five small pouches each containing twenty-five platinum plates. The party thanks Iquander and Geraal, then makes heads to the Temple of Boccob, across the street from the library.

At the Temple of Boccob, the five contact Altamaic the Calm, the junior Boccobite priest who gave them the cairn charm nearly a week ago. Though they offer to return the charm, the priest refuses, saying it reminds him of Veltagro’s assault on his person over a month ago. Altamaic is quite pleased to learn of the book’s return to the Great Library, and agrees to buy the two scrolls of contagion taken from Veltargo on the Temple’s behalf. The priest also examines the wand taken from Veltargo, and determines that it’s a wand of magic missile. He offers to buy that as well, but the party decides to hold off on selling it for now. They then bid the priest farewell, leaving with 375 golden orbs for the scrolls.

It is nearly evening by the time the five make it to Greyhawk’s Grand Citadel in the High Quarter, where they meet with the sergeant on duty and spend over an hour relating their encounter with the Vecnan cult at the Tomb of Blood Everflowing. They hand over Lazzarin Geld’s crude map and directions to the tomb, as well as one of the cairn charms. As the party leaves, the sergeant reassures them that he’ll pass on their story to his captain, though it might be a week or more before patrol can make it out that way.

“The lack of urgency doesn’t give me much hope,” says Toben.

“I fear the cult will have moved on by the time the militia investigates,” adds Galena.

“We’ve done our due diligence,” replies Nico. “The wheels of bureaucracy turn slowly.”

“Which can make things a lot easier for folks in my line of work, to be fair,” quips Preh.

“In Veltargo’s, too” growls Verben. “Don’t worry, I’ll report to my superiors at the Temple of Pelor, as well. They’ll certainly follow up with the bureaucrats and add some grease to those wheels.”

It is dark by the time the party returns to Theldrat’s Locksmithy, where they are pleased to find that their host has not only supplied ale, but food as well, brought over from the nearby Blue Dragon Inn. The merchant leaves them alone in the shop’s cozy backroom, where the party feasts and portions their hard-won treasure. Verben forfeits his share of coin, claiming only the junior Vecnan priest Isalnar’s magical armor (+1 breastplate) and masterwork mace. Preh lays claim to Veltargo’s magic cloak (+1 cloak of resistance), and 330 gp in coin. Nico takes Veltargo’s wand of magic missile (50 charges), and 455 gp in coin. Toben receives Veltargo’s healing potion (cure moderate wounds) and coin worth 680 gp. Galena walks away with 830 gp worth of coin.

Satisfied with their shares, the party members bid Theldrat farewell and go their separate ways. Preh and Nico to their Guild-provided digs in the River and Foreign Quarters, respectively, Verben to the Temple of Pelor in the Garden Quarter, and Toben and Galena to rent rooms once more at the Blue Dragon.


Planting 1, 594 CY, in the wee hours of the morning

It is well past midnight when Galena, Nico, Preh, Toben, and Verben make it through Greyhawk’s Highway Gate and stable their horses at the False Duke’s Stables in the Slum Quarter.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not up for a muddy walk to the Cargo Gate,” says Nico. “Veltargo had enough gold in his pouch to buy us decent lodgings in Old City. I’d say we earned it.”

The others agree, and within the hour manage to find a vacant room for rent in the Whitehorse Inn, an old, three-story establishment just off the Processional. Exhausted, the five squeeze into the room and crash until daylight.


Freeday, Growfest 7, 594 CY

Galena, Nico, Preh, Toben, and Verben break camp late that morning, and spend the bulk of the day riding through the rain. It is near dark before the rain slacks off, and they catch a glimpse of Greyhawk’s walls in the fading light. As night falls, the sky clears, revealing the moons—pearly Luna, more than half-full and waxing; and smaller, aquamarine Celene, nearly-full, but waning. As the lights of the city come into view, Galena cries out.

“Look!” she cries, pointing at a dark shape silhouetted against the larger moon. “That looks like a. . . .”

“Dragon!” exclaims, Toben, as the beast dives toward the city. “And it’s attacking Greyhawk!”

The five watch as the beast dives toward Greyhawk’s Grand Citadel, headquarters of the city’s military, and unleashes a gout of fire, wreathing the edifice in flames. In the fiery light, the dragon’s onslaught is answered by a plethora of eldritch bolts from the citadel walls, presumably cast by wizards, before a great white bird—presumably a roc—seemingly appears from nowhere and engages the dragon in deadly aerial combat.

“What should we do?” asks Galena.

“Well, I’m pretty sure a dragon’s out of our league,” replies Toben.

Nico grins at Preh. “You wanna tell ‘em, or should I?”

“Don’t worry,” says Preh. “This happens every year.”

“What?” responds Galena, in disbelief.

“The Desportium of Magick,” says Verben. “An annual competition held on the last day of Growfest, wherein five teams of dweomercrafters replicate—with lots of artistic license—an attack on Greyhawk by evil humanoids more than five and a half centuries ago.”

“You mean it’s not real?” asks Toben.

“Thank the gods!” exclaims Galena. “I was afraid we’d have to spend another night outdoors!”

“What kind of prize do the winners get?” asks Toben.

“Five hundred gold orbs,” replies Verben. “Plus, an offer to join Greyhawk’s Guild of Wizardry.”

“Not to mention bragging rights,” adds Preh.

“Which opens up opportunities more lucrative than the 500 orbs, I’d wager,” says Nico.

“It will likely be over before we reach Greyhawk and get through the gates,” says Verben.

“Yeah,” agrees Nico. “This late, the Black Gate separating Old City from New will be closed, and since we’ll need to stable the horses at Jogg’s in the Slum Quarter, that’ll mean either a long walk around to the Cargo Gate, or. . . .”

“Finding lodging in Old City,” finishes Preh.

“They don’t keep the Black Gate open so the poor can get back to Old City more easily?” asks Galena.

“Unfortunately,” explains Verben, “the Directing Oligarchy has little interest in making things easier for the poor.”

The five continue to make their way toward Greyhawk, catching snippets of the Desportium of Magick from the road.


Session played Nov 1, 2019 (Rob, Rachel, Jason, Ryan, and Shaun present)

Dramatis Personae:
Galena, Lawful Neutral human female monk of the Twilight Monastery in the Cairn Hills, 3 days east of Greyhawk. Age 25, 5’7”, 120 lbs, auburn hair, green eyes. (Rachel)

Nico Bolas, Chaotic Neutral human male rogue of Greyhawk City, originally from the Wild Coast town of Fax. Age 28, 5’9”, 170 lbs, black hair, blue eyes. (Ryan)

Preh, Chaotic Neutral human male rogue of Greyhawk. Age 18, 5’5”, 135 lbs, red hair, green eyes. (Jason)

Toben Ricos, Chaotic Good half elf male ranger of the Bronzewood Lodge in the Cairn Hills, 3 days east of Greyhawk, originally from the nearby town of Diamond Lake. Age 30 (22 equiv), 5’8”, 150 lbs, brown hair, geen eyes. (Shaun)

Verben Ranzoff, Neutral Good human male cleric of Pelor from Greyhawk. Age 18, 5’11”, 200 lbs, black hair, brown eyes (former PC of Dennis, run by DM)

After reading the note to the Vecnan priest Veltargo from “Lord Kolta,” the party concludes that they’d best leave the Tomb of Blood Everflowing before the rest of the cult returns. They open the door in the sleeping chamber, which leads to a long, winding tunnel. Following it, they find it leads upward, to a concealed entrance in the hills hidden by scrub and boulders.

“I’d estimate we’re about a half mile from the tomb’s main entrance,” observes Toben.

Is there any way we can collapse the tunnel?” asks Nico.

“Not without shovels, picks, and mattocks,” replies Toben. “Did you bring some?”

“I didn’t think this would be a mining expedition,” the rogue scowls. “What about booby-trapping the entrance?”

“I think we lack the equipment for that, too,” explains Preh.

“I could rig a few snares, but they wouldn’t be much use against anything larger than rabbits,” adds Toben.

“What about the main entrance?” asks Galena. “Remember there was that shelf on the landing at the top of the blood falls with all those cairn charms. If we took them, that would prevent them from using one entrance, at least.”

“Assuming they don’t already have a few charms with them,” notes Verben. “Regardless, it would complicate things for them, and give us a chance to explore the passages we passed earlier.”

The others agree, and the party makes their way back down, through the defiled temple and the bloody lake, then back up through the passages winding around the large central shaft, before arriving at a fork in the passage, where they take the one on the right. The fork leads to a small chamber with passages leading left and right. Four zombies, their left eyes and hands removed like the others, also occupy the room, and immediately attack.

Verben turns three of the monstrosities, which flee down the western (left) passage. The remaining zombie is quickly dealt with, though not before it severely wounds Galena. The monk quaffs a healing potion while the others inspect the room, finding it to be little more than a guardpost/ zombie storage area. The party finds that the eastern (right) passage leads to a small chamber containing a stone sarcophagus inlaid with silver, its lid lying on its side before the now empty vessel.

“Look at this,” says Preh, highlighting the sarcophagus and its lid with his torch.

“That guy looks pretty imperious,” says Nico, nodding toward the face carved on the lid. Based on the Ancient Sueloise writings in the upper chambers, I’d wager this guy is some important noble or other—likely the most important noble, given this is the only sarcophagus we’ve found in the lower chambers.

“Looks like there’s a holy symbol of Wee Jas carved into the sarcophagus as well,” notes Galena. “This probably where Preh’s skeleton with the holy symbol came from.”

“Vile grave robbers,” says Verben. “They despoiled his grave and animated his bones to carry out their dark agenda. This man deserved better.”

“Well, at least he got to stretch his legs for a bit after laying in this stone box for a thousand years,” jokes Toben.

The priest glares at Toben disapprovingly. “Come. Let us see to the remaining zombies.”

The party returns to the previous room, finding that the western passage leads back to the cult’s supply room, where they are attacked by the three remaining zombies. Verben turns one, which flees from the cavern. The party manages to dispatch the other two with some difficulty, as Toben is nearly slain by one of their blows. Preh saves the ranger’s life by administering one of Veltargo’s healing potions, which turns out to be a potion of cure moderate wounds. The five find the final zombie in the chamber where Preh triggered the sound burst trap earlier, and destroy it with little incident.

After catching their breath and tending to the wounds, Preh, Toben, Galena, Verben, and Nico ascend to the ledge at the top of the blood falls, where they remove the six spare cairn charms from the shelf. “Well, at least we’ll each have a unique souvenir from this place,” notes Nico.

After a brief consultation, they decide to send Toben and Nico to fetch the horses and bring them around to the concealed entrance, while Preh, Galena, and Verben return to the lower level and strip Veltargo and Isalnarr of their armor and other valuables. They also decide to fish the shields and scimitars used by the skeletons from the blood lake.

“We can turn this around for a few orbs,” notes Preh.

“And it will deprive the remaining cultists of their armory,” adds Verben.

Soon Toben returns, Nico having remained outside to keep watch. The others then carry and drag their newly acquired loot through the tunnel, figuring it to be less arduous than the steep grade around the blood falls. It is near dark by the time the party’s mounts are loaded and they depart, and well past dark when they stop to make camp beneath a tiny stone overhang a few hours later.

That night in camp, over a meal of jerky and hardtack, Verben uses his remaining spells to determine that a number of items are magical: Isalnarr’s breastplate armor, Veltargo’s cloak, wand, and a pair of scrolls. He notes that the cloak carries an aura of faint abjuration magic, just like Nico’s cloak of resistance, so he assumes it’s similar. Examining the scrolls, he finds that they contain disease-causing contagion spells. He’s unable to determine what powers the wand holds. Theldrat’s key, however, does not appear to be magic.”

“Could the book from the library have drained it of its magic?” asks Galena.

“Possibly,” replies Verben. “Or it could also have ran out of charges.”

The priest continues. “This wand likely can cast an arcane spell of some sort. Maybe your friend Altamaic at the Temple of Boccob can help us further when we return to Greyhawk. As for these scrolls, I’d wager Veltargo infected the Green Daggers with such a scroll to enlist their aid in the first place. They would be best destroyed.”

“Now, let’s not be so hasty, Verben,” says Nico. “I hear the Temple of Boccob will buy dangerous magic to keep it out of the wrong hands. Maybe we can sell them?”

“I would still prefer to see them destroyed,” replies the priest, “but if everyone else wants to sell them to the Boccobites, I will abide by that decision.”

A quick poll is taken, and Verben is outvoted, four to one. The priest is somewhat mollified by the fact that he’s the only one who can make effective use of Isalnarr’s magic armor.

Preh, for his part, lays claim to Veltargo’s cloak. “I mean, I did strike the killing blow,” he says.

“When we return to Greyhawk,” notes Verben, “we should also report the cult and their lair to the Militia. The government takes evil cults seriously, ever since the Expulsion of Evil nearly four centuries ago.”

“What was that?” asks Galena.

“In 209 Common Year, the Landgraf of the Selintan—that’s what the rulers of the Domain of Greyhawk was called in the days before our independence from the Great Kingdom—and Greyhawk’s garrison commander were assassinated by evil cultists. Ponjes the Bull, the next officer in line, declared martial law, razed every temple of evil to the ground, massacred every worshiper of evil gods he could find, and seized their property. Ponjes eventually was made Landgraf, but he preferred to be called Lord Mayor.”

“Sounds like a tyrant,” says Nico.

“Well, when he needed to be,” replies the priest. “But he also made several government reforms. Before him, the Landgraf pretty much ruled with impunity, but Ponjes formed a town council of the most important city leaders—priests, merchants, the heads of the town watch and militia, and anyone else who had pull. This formed the basis for the Directing Oligarchy that rules Greyhawk today, though the Lord Mayor is still arguably the most powerful member.”

“But, yeah,” says Nico. “Telling the Militia about the cult’s probably a good idea.” The others nod their heads in agreement.

“Aw, Hells!” exclaims Toben, gazing skyward. “Looks like rain!”

Soon, a slow, steady rain begins to fall, the party’s hillside overhang providing scant shelter from the cold spring drizzle.

“This is going to be one miserable night,” notes Galena.

“Next time, I’m packing a tent!” says Verben.

“At least this will wash some of the blood out of our clothes,” grins Preh. “Right, Nico?”

The older rogue groans, pulling his damp blanket over his head.


Session 7; 10/18/2019; Rob (DM), Rachel (Galena), Jason (Preh), and Shaun (Toben) present. Ryan (Nico) absent.

Dramatis Personae:
Galena, Lawful Neutral human female monk of the Twilight Monastery in the Cairn Hills, 3 days east of Greyhawk. Age 25, 5’7”, 120 lbs, auburn hair, green eyes.

Nico Bolas, Chaotic Neutral human male rogue of Greyhawk City, originally from the Wild Coast town of Fax. Age 28, 5’9”, 170 lbs, black hair, blue eyes.

Preh, Chaotic Neutral human male rogue of Greyhawk. Age 18, 5’5”, 135 lbs, red hair, green eyes.

Toben Ricos, Chaotic Good half elf male ranger of the Bronzewood Lodge in the Cairn Hills, 3 days east of Greyhawk, originally from the nearby town of Diamond Lake. Age 30 (22 equiv), 5’8”, 150 lbs, brown hair, geen eyes.

Verben Ranzoff, Neutral Good human male cleric of Pelor from Greyhawk. Age 18, 5’11”, 200 lbs, black hair, brown eyes (former PC of Dennis, run by DM)

“I suppose we should have a look at this door, first,” says Preh. “A little help, Nico?”

As the two rogues examine the doors, the others inspect the gear of the dead priest.

“Nice mace,” says Verben, picking up the slain cultist’s weapon. “Far better than mine. I hope no one minds if I claim this?”

Hearing no objections, the Pelorian priest takes the masterwork weapon and hand his own mace to Toben.

“Here, Toben—take my old mace. It may come in handy if we face any more skeletal abominations.” The ranger sheathes his longsword and takes the proffered weapon.

“How’s that door coming, guys?” asks Galena.

“It’s magically trapped,” says Preh. “Almost got it. There! Thanks, Nico. Okay guys, it should be safe, now,” says the rogue, putting his tools away. “We ready?”

Toben, holding his new mace, positions himself at the left door, prepared to pull it open, whilst the torch-holding Preh does the same on the right door. Nico, loaded crossbow ready, stands behind Toben, while Galena stands behind Preh with her loaded sling and staff in hand. Verben, mace and shield at ready, takes up the rear, while the young rogue and ranger open the doors.
Within, a vast chamber rises to a vaulted ceiling some 40’ above the black marble floor. Two silver braziers emiting thick red smoke flank a large pool of blood on the chamber’s far side. In the center of the pool stands a 20’ tall statue of black basalt, depicting a rotting corpse in fine robes, missing its left hand and eye, each wound pouring forth blood into the pool below. An ornate bookstand before the statue holds a large tome, its pages open for display. Near the furthermost brazier stands a thin balding man with crooked teeth and blackened fingernails, wearing banded mail beneath his black robes, holding a shield, with a morning star hanging from his belt—Veltargo!

“Rise, Blessed One!” screams the man. “Kill the slayers of Isalnarr!”

At Veltargo’s words, a great skeletal creature rises from the pool. It stands some ten feet in height, with long arms ending in great talons and a large, beaked head, with remnants of blood-soaked feathers clinging to its bones.

“What in the Nine Hells is that?” asks Galena.

“Looks like an undead owlbear,” replies Toben.

As the “Blessed One” climbs from the pool, Veltargo casts a spell, summoning a large spectral left hand with long nails. “Face the Hand of the Whispered One, fools!” intones the priest, as the unnerving apparition floats toward Nico, wounding him with a strike across the face.

Galena lets fly a lead ball from her sling, striking the Blessed One, while Nico attempts to stab the spectral hand with his rapier, missing. Preh draws his rapier and moves to Nico’s side. He stabs the hand, but his blade passes through, having no effect.

Verben moves forward and raises his shield, displaying the symbol of his god. “By the light of Pelor, away foul spawn of evil!” he cries, causing the Blessed One to retreat to the far side of the room and cower.

Toben draws his short sword and moves to the spectral hand. He hits it with his mace, but the weapon passes right through.

“It’s a spiritual weapon spell,” yells Verben, “you won’t be able to harm it!’

“Thanks for waiting for all three of us to swing at it before saying anything,” sneers Nico.

“Sorry,” replies the priest, “but I was a little busy turning undead to analyze spell effects.”

“Blessed One!” yells Veltargo, gesturing toward the beast. “Let the Maimed One steel your heart and give you’re the strength to strike down your foes!” At the Vecnan priest’s words, the blood-encrusted skeleton advances forward.

Galena puts her sling away and moves to intercept the Blessed One, swinging with her staff and missing. The creature lashes out and wounds her severely. Nico, Preh, and Toben choose to ignore the spectral hand, which lashes out at Preh and wounds him greatly. Spotting a door to the side of the room, Preh retreats through it and pulls a healing option from his satchel.

Nico attacks Veltargo, but fails to land a blow. Toben, meanwhile, strikes the Blessed One with his mace, taking its attention off Galena. Veltargo steps back and gestures toward Toben. “Flee!” he commands. The ranger’s mind is suddenly taken by a strange compulsion, and Toben sprints from the room, fleeing back into the columned hall where the party faced the other priest.

“Damn!” exclaims Preh, downing his potion and moving back into the room.

Galena steps away from the Blessed One and downs a healing potion of her own, while Nico takes another stab at the evil priest, again missing. Verben moves on the Blessed One, landing a blow with his mace. The creature responds with its claws and fails to harm the priest, though its beak does strike true, though the wound is not severe.

Veltargo draws his morning star and swings it at Nico, knocking the rogue’s rapier from his hand. Nico pulls his dagger and attacks Veltargo, but misses. The spectral hand lashes out at Preh, misses, and dissipates. Galena, still wounded, downs another healing potion, then moves to aid Verben. The Pelorian priest takes another swing at the Blessed one, but fails to land a blow.

Toben shakes off the effects of Veltargo’s spell, then charges back into the room, and manages to land a solid blow on the Blessed One with his mace. The undead owlbear takes this personally, striking the ranger with both claws, dealing him grievous wounds and sending him to the ground.

“Someone, help Toben!” cries Nico, as Veltargo strikes the dagger from his hand.

“I’ll cover you, Verben!” says Galena, attacking the Blessed One with her staff, knocking out a couple ribs. The Pelorian steps to Toben’s side, where he drops his mace and pulls a healing scroll from his satchel and casts the spell on the half-elf, stabilizing him.

“Keep it busy!” Verben tells Galena. “He’s still out, so I’m gonna have to use another scroll!”

Preh moves and attacks Veltargo. While his thrust fails, it does allow time for Nico to recover his rapier. The Blessed One attacks Galena. While she artfully avoids its claws, its beak does leave a nasty gnash across her back.

Veltargo smacks Preh’s rapier from his hand. Nico attacks Veltargo, without success, but the distraction does allow Preh to retrieve his fallen weapon.

Galena strikes the Blessed One once more, cracking its skull. Luckily, she is able to avoid all its attacks while Verben uses another healing scroll on Toben, bringing the ranger back to full consciousness.

“Galena! Help Preh and Nico!” says Toben, rising to his feet. “Verben and I will deal with this beast!”

Veltargo attempts to disarm Preh once more, but this time the rogue is able to maintain his grip. Galena moves in and manages to strike the Vecnan across the head with her staff. Nico also gets a shot in, his rapier sinking into Veltargo’s armpit. Preh, flanked by Galena, is able to deal the killing blow, running his blade through the priest’s left eye and into his brain. The priest falls to the ground, his body convulsing.

Meanwhile, Verben lands a solid blow on the Blessed One, shattering its breastbone with his mace. Toben follows up with a crushing mace strike to its skull, then severs its head with his short sword, destroying the creature.

“Well, that’s fitting,” says Toben, nodding toward Veltargo’s convulsing form, blood seeping from his eye.

“I thought so, too,” says Preh, wiping the brains from his rapier.

“Should we leave him like that?” asks Galena.

“Evil such as his cannot be redeemed,” replies Verben. “At best, he might recover on his own, but would remain in a vegetative state, and a burden to others.”

“A slow, painful death would be what he deserves,” says Nico.

“True, but such cruelty would do us no favors in the eyes of the gods,” replies Verben. “Better for all to finish it, and hasten his divine judgement.”

Preh nods, draws his dagger, and slits Veltargo’s throat.

“Well, I guess that’s the stolen book from the library,” says Toben, pointing to the bookstand in front of the statue. “And that has to be the key right next to it!”

“Has anyone noticed that statue of Vecna’s hips?” asks Galena. “And its chest looks like someone went a little wild with a chisel.”

“Given the holy symbol Preh found on that skeleton,” muses Verben, “that statue was originally one of Wee Jas. The cultists must have chiseled off its breasts when they destroyed its eye and hand. Probably thought the hips might take too much effort.”

“That’s a shame they destroyed it like that,” says Galena.

“Yeah,” replies Nico. “Those were probably some nice breasts.”

Galena shakes her head as Preh and Toben examine the book.

“Anyone know what this language is?” asks the ranger. “It’s not Elvish.”

“Nor Orcish,” add Preh. “Not that orcs are known for writing books.”

“Let me look at it,” says Nico. “Hmmm. Some pages have been torn out. I can’t tell exactly what it says, but it looks like some kind of ancient Draconic script.”

“I know some Draconic,” says Galena. “Let me see.”

“You know the language of dragons?” asks Toben.

“One of the benefits of a monastery education,” replies Galena. “Okay, this looks like some kind of manual on the creation of unique and powerful undead creatures.” She flips to the front of the book. “Looks like it’s entitled ‘Ordinary Necromancy’ by—oh shit! Guys. This was written by Vecna himself.”

“Well, let’s hope it’s not cursed or anything,” says Preh, as Galena glares at him. “Um, hey! Let’s check out this other room!”

The neighboring room seems to be a sleeping chamber, containing nearly a dozen dirty straw mats. A long table sits at the far end of the room, next to another door.

“Food scraps, dirty robes. More people than just Veltargo and the other guy lived here,” notes Toben.

“Veltargo called us ‘the slayers of Isalnarr,’” says Preh. “I’m guessing that was the other priest’s name.”

“Don’t see any personal possessions or anything of value,” says Toben. “the others might’ve packed up and left already.”

“They did,” says Galena, picking up a note from the table. Check this out.”

Galena passes the note to the others, which reads:

“Veltargo. Remain here with Isalnarr and guard the temple. We shall return as soon as we gather the necessary components required by the book. Soon, all of the unholy secrets will be within our grasp. –Lord Kolta”

“Well, great,” says Preh. “There’s more of ‘em.”


Earthday, Growfest 6th, 594 CY, the Cairn Hills, about two dozen miles north of Greyhawk

After a light breakfast of jerky and hardtack, Galena, Nico, Preh, Toben, and Verben break camp and continue their journey, following Geld’s map to the Tomb of Blood Everflowing. A few hours later, they come upon a pair of obelisks of blood-red stone flanking a hole in the hillside. Marble stairs lead downward, and the air smells strongly of copper.

“Is this it?” asks Galena.

“It appears to be,” replies Toben, “assuming Geld’s map is accurate.”

The ranger dismounts and examines the area before the entrance. “Looks like we’re not alone. The area looks heavily traveled. People have been entering and leaving as recently as a few hours ago. We’d better find a place to hide the horses before we go in.”

The others agree, and Toben finds a small copse of evergreens behind a hill several yards away. Gathering the supplies that they think they’ll need, the five approach the tomb. Preh lights a torch and they descend into the darkness.

Ten feet in, they come across a channel cut into the floor, with a thick, reddish liquid resembling blood flowing westward (to their left) a short distance, ending in a small pool where it seems to drain into unseen cracks in the stone.

“I guess now we know why it’s called the ‘Tomb of Blood Everflowing,’” notes Preh.

“Is that real blood?” asks Galena.

“Probably not,” says Verben. “Likely some magical effect created by the tomb’s builders.”

The path ahead seems to lead to a large room, the party decides to turn right, following the channel. The sound of gurgling liquid in the air, the short corridor leads to a circular room with a two-foot tall well at its center. The source of the gurgling is a stone skull mounted in the ceiling, the “blood” pouring from its mouth into the well, where it overflows into the channel leading to the pool at the hall’s opposite end. The room’s walls are covered in some ancient script.

“Can anyone read that?” asks Toben.

Nico examines the walls closely. “Looks like Ancient Sueloise. My knowledge is limited, but I’d wager these are names, likely of those who were interred here.”

The five leave the room, and move into the larger room to the north, which is roughly 15’ wide by 25’ long. Recessed into small niches in each corner are ruined stone sarcophagi, their contents long looted by tomb robbers. Two short corridors lead east and west to additional alcoves containing similarly violated sarcophagi. Soft burbling sounds echo off the walls, their source a 5’ wide pool of churning “blood” which runs the length of the room, ending at a wall. The walls are decorated with ancient murals depicting a funeral procession, over which graffiti such as “Orcs smell bad,” “All praise Iuz,” and “Brendigund is a fool.”

“Shine that torch over here, Preh,” says Toben, looking at the floor before the pool. “Look here—bloody footprints leading to and from the pool.”

“There must be a secret door,” says Preh.

Toben steps into the pool and begins walking its length, hoping that his weight may trigger a path forward, but stops after ten feet, when he finds himself up to his waist in the thick, coppery “blood.”

“Wait, I have an idea,” says Galena. She dipis her staff into the far end of the pool, trying to determine its depth, but is nearly up to her elbow by the time her staff hits bottom.

“I don’t think I want to risk drowning in blood,” says Toben.

Preh and Nico, meanwhile, are examining the wall above the pool. “Hold on,” says the younger rogue, “I think we have something. Toben, give me that pendant.”

Toben pulls the pendant given to the party by Altamaic two days before and hands it to Nico, who passes it on to his fellow rogue. Preh places the pendant into a depression in the wall, turns it, and suddenly the party hears the grinding of stone against stone as a submerged secret door in the north wall slides open, allowing the blood to drain down a flight of stairs. The five then descend the bloody stairs, Toben leading the way, followed by Galena, Preh, Verben, and Nico, all with weapons drawn.

“Ow! Careful with that sword!” says Galena.

“Sorry,” replies Preh.

The heavy scent of blood and the sound of rushing water hangs in the air as the short corridor opens into a ledge at the top of a vast open pit. A natural chasm drops down into the darkness, beyond the range of Preh’s torch. Countless skulls line the walls of the pit shaft, each draining a torrent of blood into the darkness below, filling the air with a reddish mist. A narrow, natural corridor slopes down into the rock to the left, from which emerge three shambling, blood-spackled corpses, each missing its left hand and eye.

“Zombies!” cries Verben.

The group quickly engages the undead monstrosities, but finds the narrow quarters hard to maneuver in. Verben is able to turn one of the horrors, sending it fleeing down the corridor. Between Toben’s sword and Preh’s liberal use of alchemist’s fire, the group manages to destroy the two zombies.

While Verben heals the wounds of the sorely-injured Toben, Preh and Nico search the area while Galena keeps an eye out in case the third zombie reappears. The two rogues find a small shelf carved into the stone near the entrance to the ledge containing six cairn charms exactly like the one given to them by the Boccobite priest Altamaic.

“Hmmm. Why do you think these are here,” Preh asks Nico, just as they hear a faint grinding of stone on stone from the corridor leading back to the entrance.

“I would guess so people can get out,” replies Nico, pointing above the shelf, where a fist squeezing out a drop of blood, similar to the charm itself, is carved into the wall, its face marked with several indentations matching the irregular bumps on the backs of the charms. Just to be sure, the rogues return to the secret door, now closed, and test the charms, relieved that they can open it from both sides.

The group moves down the corridor through which the third zombie fled, descending two flights of natural stairs, eventually encountering it again, on a second ledge facing the chasm from its western side.

Again, the space is rather confined. Toben and Preh face the creature, its back to the ledge, while Verben stands to their rear with healing spells ready. Nico and Galena move back up to the first ledge, where they can see the melee below them to their left in the light of Preh’s torch. They eventually dispatch the creature, Nico striking the killing blow with a crossbow bolt to the brain. The five watch as the zombie falls from the ledge, seconds later hearing a faint splash through the roaring torrent.

When Nico a Galena rejoin the others, Verben is busy healing Toben’s wounds while Preh is examining the area, gazing up at an odd symbol painted above a passageway descending deeper into the complex.

“Sounds like there’s an underground lake down there,” says Nico. “I’d guess maybe a hundred feet down from where we entered.

“I’d say about seventy-five from here,” adds Toben.

“I think there’s a magical trap connected to this symbol,” says Preh. “See if you can help me neutralize it, Nico.”

Nico moves over to aid Preh, the young rogue’s torchlight revealing the symbol to be a left hand with a single eye gazing from the palm.

“Uh-oh,” says Verben.

“What’s wrong?” asks Galena.

“That,” the priest says, pointing, “is the symbol of Vecna, the Whispered One, the god of destructive and evil secrets, magic, hidden knowledge, and intrigue. Thousands of years ago, he was a mortal wizard, but eventually became a lich and forged a great and terrible empire in the Sheldomar Valley. He was slain in a great battle with his rebellious general, Kas, but his hand and eye survived as artifacts of great power. Through them, he eventually attained godhood. In 581, he attempted to reuinte with his artifacts and gain even more divine power, but was thwarted by a band of adventurers known as the Flamebringers. It’s said that a decade later, he attempted to reorder reality itself, but was again thwarted by mortals.”

“So, I guess our Veltargo is a cultist of Vecna, then,” says Nico. “Let’s hope all he’s interested in is just run-of-the-mill cult stuff, like sacrificing virgins and kicking puppies and whatnot.”

“We should still kill him,” adds Galena. “Kicking puppies is pretty bad in my book.”

“C’mon, guys, I’m trying to concen–aarghhh!”

Preh’s cries are joined by the others as he accidentally sets off the trap, filling the area with a tremendous burst of noise, causing everyone to cover their ears in pain. After a few minutes the group recovers, able to hear one more, though a faint ringing in their ears remains.

“Um, it should be safe to pass through now,” says Preh.

“What?” yells Galena.

Toben, Preh, Galena, Verben, and Nico enter the passage, descending a natural set of stairs to a somewhat larger cavern lit by dim torchlight, with barrels and crates stacked haphazardly along the walls. A pair of corridors on the far side of the chamber contain natural stairways leading down into darkness.

“Hmm,” says Preh, inspecting the crates. “Iron ore, horseshoes, spoiled cider, stale bread, leatherworking tools. . . .”

“Looks like we found their supply room,” says Galena.

“I’d lay odds most of this stuff was stolen,” says Nico. “Probably from raiding merchant caravans between Greyhawk and hill settlements.”

The group moves on, taking the right-hand passage, which leads them to a small cavern with a ledge facing the blood falls, and occupied by four zombies, each missing its left hand and eye.

“More zombies!” yells Toben. “Back up to the supply room! We can hold them off at the corridor!”

Toben plants himself at the top of the stairs, while Galena and Preh take positions at the side, where they can also strike blows. Verben stands to the rear, healing spells ready, while Nico stumbles in the dark back to the chamber with the symbol of Vecna painted on the wall, hoping to snipe from that ledge to the one below, as he did previously.

The battle is hard-fought. Toben falls to a zombie’s blow, but Verben is able to revive him. Though most of Nico’s bolts have little effect, a few of them strike true. Galena and Preh use their daggers to supplement that from Toben’s swords. Eventually, the four foes are dispatched, and the five adventurers move to the ledged chamber from which the zombies came, which features yet another corridor with natural stairs winding down.

Preh, Toben, Galena, Verben, and Nico soon come to an intersection, but choose to ignore the natural stairs leading upward to their left, and follow the main path downward. Preh in the lead, the narrow winding corridor opens up to a broad chamber lit by patches of faintly glowing moss on the floor. As Preh steps into the chamber, hundreds of squeaking, half-decayed rats pour from numerous small holes in the cavern walls.

“Undead rats!” yells Preh to his comrades, as he runs past them and into a narrow dead end, hoping for a more defensive position.

“Shit!” curses Galena, taking a flask of acid from her satchel and throwing it at the swarm. “At least they’re not undead spiders!” Unfortunately, the monk’s aim falters, and the flask shatters against the cavern wall, having little effect on its target.

“Let me through,” yells Verben, pushing his way to the front. The priest raises his shield, emblazoned with the sun sigil of his deity, at the advancing swarm. “May the Sun-Father’s light purge this evil abomination!” he cries.

A wave of unseen holy energy washes over the area, and the rats’ squeaks are silenced as they burst into piles of dust.

“Wow,” says Toben. “You really saved us that time.”

“Nay, my friend,” says Verben, “it was Pelor who saved us.”

“Regardless, thanks for calling on him,” replies Nico.

Perhaps we all can show Him thanks, say, at the temple, next Godsday?” suggests Verben.

“Ummm, sure, if we get out of here,” says Nico. “It’ll give me a chance to wear my Godsday best.”

On the chamber’s opposite side, a single corridor with natural stairs leads downward. Toben, Preh, Galena, Verben, and Nico press on. The staircase ends at a small ledge overlooking the lake of gently rippling blood at the bottom of the complex’s great central shaft. The sound of splashing blood pouring from above echoes throughout. A large columned hall lies opposite, past the lake’s northern edge.

“There’s no way across,” observes Nico.

“Looks like we’ll have to get a bit bloodier,” says Galena. The monk sticks her staff in the lake, finding that it’s only about a foot deep near the ledge.

“It’s probably deeper in the center,” says Toben. “Keep close to the cavern wall. I’ll take point.”

“I’ll watch our backs,” says Nico.

“He means he’s not going to bloody his fancy boots any sooner than he has to,” Preh whispers to Galena as he steps in the lake, following Toben.

“Shhh! Do you guys hear that?” asks Toben. “It sounds like creaking bones.”

“Uhhh, guys?” says Galena. “There’s something moving in the ‘blood.’”

The party watches in shock as eight skeletal figures rise from the lake of blood, standing knee to waist-deep. Wielding scimitars and shields, tiny points of reddish light smolder in their empty eye sockets as they approach. The creatures move quickly, but with an odd, halting gait.

“Well, at least they didn’t cut the hands off these,” says Nico, moving to a defensive position on the ledge and loading his crossbow.

“Kind of hard to hold a shield without a hand,” replies Verben, moving to edge of the ledge. “To the Abyss with ye, foul spawn of evil!” shouts the priest, raising his shield to present the sigil of the sun god. As Verben channels the power of his deity, five of the eight skeletons disintegrate into bone dust, their swords and blades splashing into the water.

“Good ol’ Sun Daddy to the rescue, again!” exclaims Nico.

“That’s ‘Sun Father’ to you,” retorts Verben. “Show some respect for He Who Saves Your Hide!”

One of the surviving skeletons closes on Toben, while the other two rush to the ledge, where they engage Galena and Verben. As Preh moves back to the ledge to aid Galena, Nico observes an armored figure approach from the shadows on the other side of the lake.

“Company!” yells Nico.

“Flee, in the name of the Whispered One!” booms the figure, pointing at Toben.

Assailed by a sense of dread, the half-elven ranger overcomes his fear and continues assaulting the skeleton.

Nico fires a crossbow bolt at the figure, but misses.

“Flee from the Master of Spider Throne!” yells the figure once more, this time directing his spell at Preh. Luckily, the young rogue shakes off the fear that begins gripping his mind, and continues to aid Galena against the skeleton. Preh’s distraction allows Galena to crush the skeleton’s ribs with one end of her staff, and its skull with the other. Moments later, Verben crushes the skull of his foe with his mace. The three then begin wading across the lake to confront the armored figure, who begins casting a spell on himself.

“Veltargo!” the figure yells down the columned hall. “Enemies upon us!” The figure hefts his shield, bearing the emblem of Vecna, and raises his mace as said “enemies” approach.

Knee-deep in blood, Galena loads her sling and casts a bullet at the Vecnan’s head, but is foiled by his shield. Preh and Verben reach the other side and begin engaging in melee with their foe.

Toben finally manages to destroy his skeleton and begins making his way toward the others. Nico, failing to hit with his last bolt, puts away his crossbow, draws his rapier, and finally deigns to bloody his boots in the lake. Having no luck with her sling, Galena also begins moving toward the melee.

Soon, the Vecnan priest finds himself beset by foes on all sides.

“Veltargo! Enemies upon us!” he cries. In the light of Preh’s torch, the party can see that the priest seems to be yelling in the direction of a pair of double doors at the far end of the columned hall.

In the crowded melee, Gelena narrowly avoids smacking Preh on the head with her staff, while, Nico, unfortunately, is felled by a misplaced strike from Toben’s longsword. Luckily, the Vecnan priest is soon slain by crushing blow from Verben’s mace.

As the others catch their breath, Verben rushes to aid Nico. “May the Sun Father’s healing light cleanse the wounds of this lost soul,” intones the priest, his spell reviving the fallen rogue.

“Thank you, sweet Sun Da—er, ‘Sun Father,’ I mean,” says Nico.

“That was my last spell, by the way,” says Verben.

Meanwhile, Preh converses with Galena and Toben. “Hold on a minute,” he says. “I’ll be right back.” The young rogue then makes his way to the place where he and Galena fought the skeleton and begins searching the area where it fell.

As Preh runs off with his torch, the others take note of their surroundings. The hall is about twenty feet wide and sixty feet long, with a two-foot wide groove cut into the center of the floor, allowing a “river of blood” to run the length of the hall, which ends in a pair of great stone doors. Columns of black stone flank the river on either side, each of them bearing a glowing red symbol of an open left hand with an eye in its palm, bathing the chamber in a deep crimson. Faint whispers feel the air with a latent malignancy.

“Well, that’s unsettling,” says Galena.

“I’d wager it’s magical,” says Verben. “It’s what’s beyond those doors that I’m worried about.”

“Our ‘Veltargo,’ most likely,” adds Nico, standing. “The guy was yelling for his help after all.”

“You’ve gotta be a real dick to ignore your evil cult-brother’s cries for help,” notes Toben.

“Lucky for us,” smirks Verben, “that kind of goes along with the whole ‘evil’ thing.”

“Where’d you go, Preh?” asks Galena, as the young rogue rejoins his companions.

“That skeleton looked a lot older than the others,” the rogue replies. “And while we were fighting it, I noticed something shiny hanging from its neck. This.”

Preh holds up a silver pendant hanging on a fine chain, molded in the shape of a skull surrounded by flames.

“Looks like the symbol of Wee Jas, Suel goddess of death and magic,” notes Verben. “No surprise there, since this tomb was certainly crafted by the Suel during the Great Migrations. That skeleton was probably one of the people entombed here, long ago. I’d wager it was animated by either Veltargo or this Vecnan,” Verben nods toward the dead priest.

“The other skeletons and zombies, too?” asks Galena.

“Definitely not the zombies,” replies Verben. “Flesh rots. And probably not the other skeletons, either, since Preh’s looked more ancient.”

“Likely they were victims of Veltargo and his crony,” says Nico. “Probably the previous owners of those supplies we found earlier.”

“The upper part of the tomb looks like it was raided long ago,” adds Toben. “And we haven’t seen any sarcophagi in these caverns so far.”

“Though it could be through those doors,” says Nico.

“Or maybe down that passage we passed earlier,” notes Preh.

“Regardless, it’s almost certain Veltargo’s behind those doors,” says Galena.

“True,” replies Nico. “There will be time to explore the rest of the place later.”

“Providing we survive,” adds Preh, as the others glare at him disapprovingly.


Waterday, Growfest 5, 594 CY

Galena, Preh, Toben, and Verben are in the Blue Dragon Inn, impatiently waiting for Nico to arrive. It is nearly dawn when he finally shows up, nearly breathless.

“Where’ve you been?” asks Toben. “It’s been almost an hour!”

“Sorry,” apologizes Nico. “Had to pick up something in the Artisan’s Quarter. It wasn’t ready yesterday. You like?” he asks, opening his cloak and revealing a finely-crafted set of studded-leather armor.

“Where’d you get that? It looks kind of familiar.” asks Galena.

“It belonged to Irontusk. I had to get it re-fitted, though. Preh let me have it since he got that shiny new shirt.”

“More like you bought me out,” grins Preh.

“If everyone’s finished gawking,” says Toben, “I believe we have some horses to pick up.”

The five hurriedly make their way to the Slum Quarter, where they procure their horses from Jogg at the False Duke’s Stables (formerly known as Stairnezh stables).

“Five fast horses for the two slow boys and their slow friends,” says Jogg.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Toben whispers to Nico. “He was talking just like that when Preh and I were here yesterday.”

“Never mind,” replies Nico. “It’s just his way.”

“I’m never forgiving Meg for that,” Preh whispers to Nico, as they ride toward the Highway Gate.

The five ride southwest for a couple miles on the River Road leading from the City of Greyhawk, before arriving a small settlement at a crossroads. There they turn to their right, crossing Zagig’s Bridge, a looming stone expanse spanning the Selintan River. A massive stone statue of a robed figure holding a longsword at the road’s edge points the way across the bridge into a craggy spur of the Cairn Hills.

“These rugged hills might be a bit drab,” notes Toben, “but they’re rich with granite and quartz. This particular region, on the Great South Peninsula, is rich with gems as well, mostly emeralds, rubies, and diamonds.”

“Oh, really?” asks Nico.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Nico. Gnomes run most of the mining operations here, and you’d have a hard time passing for one.”

As they turn northward along a little-used trail, they see the ruins of three great towers in the distance to their right.

“The ruins of Castle Greyhawk,” explains Verben. “Built by Zagig Yragerne during his time as Lord Mayor. He abandoned it nearly a hundred years ago. The levels beneath are said to be innumerable, and many have emerged from its depths bearing great treasures, but many more have never returned.”

“Might be worth checking out sometime,” notes Galena.

“If you can get in,” replies Preh. “It’s said entry is strictly controlled by a band of dwarves, and those who make it out are forced to fork over a share of any found wealth.”

“Part of which I’m sure makes its way to the city coffers,” adds Nico.

The rest of the ride is uneventful. The group sees a smattering of wildlife–small deer feeding on the tough grass growing on the hillsides, field mice, rabbits, and several species of bird, including the small grey hawks from which the city and domain is named. They also see tracks left by small herds of wild pigs. As the day begins to wane, the party looks for a spot to camp, eventually finding one beneath a rocky overhang. Over a campfire, the five share stories of their past: Verben tells how he came to the light of Pelor after a priest saved him from an undead menace that killed his father; Toben talks about growing up as an unwanted half-breed child in Diamond Lake; Nico explains how he fell in with the Thieves’ Guild after his uncle abandoned him as a teenager; Preh shares the tale of his adoptive father, a city watchman, dying as a result of collateral damage in a battle between archmages; and Galena relates how she sought safety in a monastery after her family was slaughtered by undead creatures in an attack on their farm.


Godsday, Growfest 4, 594 CY, morning; AKA Saint Cuthbert’s Day

That morning, many in Greyhawk awaken to great commotion. Cries of “they’re coming,” and “c’mon, let’s find a good spot to watch ‘em get beat!” fill inns, boarding houses, and private residences. Galena and Toben awaken to similar cries throughout the Blue Dragon. Curious, the pair exit the inn, along with several other boarders, and follow the crowd to the Processional, the great central avenue splitting Greyhawk on a north-south axis. A religious parade of some sort seems to be taking place, as hundreds, perhaps thousands of people, many of them wearing homespun russet robes and wide-brimmed hats, slowly march northward toward the Garden Gate leading to the Garden and High Quarters. Chanting and singing fill the air as enthusiastic children run alongside the pilgrims, striking them with green switches.

“‘The Cleansing,’ they call it,” says a familiar voice. Toben and Galena turn to see Preh has come out to watch the parade as well. “Happens every Growfest 4th—Saint Cuthbert’s Day. Nearly every follower of the god of wisdom, dedication, and zeal in the city comes out for it. They gather before dawn at the Highway Gate and make their way up the Processional, eventually ending up at the temple in the Garden Quarter, where they have an all-day feast and sermonizing and such.”

“So, there’s free food?” asks Toben.

“Only for the faithful—riffraff like us gotta stay outside.”

“Well, Hells,” says Galena. “I guess it’s breakfast at the Blue Dragon. Again.”

“Not necessarily,” says Preh. “Both the Silver Dragon and Black Dragon Inns aren’t far—but being on the Processional, they’re likely to be pretty crowded.”

“You Greyhawkers are mighty fond of Dragon-themed inns, aren’t you?” notes Galena. There’s the Blue Dragon where we’re staying, the Green Dragon in the River Quarter, and now come to find out there’s a Black Dragon and a Silver Dragon, too?”

Preh shrugs. “There’s also the Gold Dragon in the Garden Quarter, and the Brass Dragon and White Dragon in Old City.”

“Looks like there’s no escaping those dragons,” grins Toben. “Where’s Nico, by the way?”

“Dunno. Probably running errands for his boss,” answers Preh. “C’mon—let’s get some food.”

The three return to the Blue Dragon for a hearty breakfast. Nico soon joins them, and afterward, leads the others on a tour of the Foreign Quarter, pointing out such notable places as The Pit, a notorious fight club and gambling hall; the massive Barge Inn, one of the largest taverns in the city, and a favorite of dwarves; Burrow Heights, a neighborhood populated mainly by halflings, gnomes, and dwarves; the Red Serpent, a restaurant specializing in spicy stir-fried dishes; the towering Silver Garter, “the best brothel in the city;” the Whistling Fish, an inn owned by a stunted hill giant named Gruenab; and Souf’s Paraphernalia, a shop run by a civilized lizardman.

It’s after midday by the time the four return to the Blue Dragon, where the owner, a bearded half-elf named Gustin Longpike gives them a message that Lazzarin Geld wishes to see them, so they decide to do so after lunch. While eating, they are joined by Verben. The four catch the priest up on what they learned yesterday at the Great Library and at the Temple of Boccob, and about the mysterious pendant. Verben, for his part, tells the others that he’s been looking after the sick Green Daggers in his spare time and that they’re all well on their way to recovery, even blind Stitch.

“Tirra said she’d likely be able to find a place for him in the Beggars’ Union, so there’s that,” the priest says. “She also said she’s ready to see us to discuss our ‘cut’ whenever we’re ready to come see her at the Green Dagger house,” he adds.

The group agrees to visit Tirra after stopping by Geld’s Maps, since it’s on the way. After eating, the five make their way to Geld’s Maps [#14,see map below], where (after being introduced to Verben) the old man tells them that the pendant most likely came from the Tomb of Blood Everflowing, and obscure cairn some thirty miles north of Greyhawk.

“Previous explorers believe it was built over eight centuries ago by migrants from the Suel Imperium after it was destroyed over a thousand years past,” notes Geld. Imagery and artifacts associated with Wee Jas, goddess and magic and the dead, have been found there. But like most tombs in the Cairn Hills, unfortunately, grave robbers took anything valuable long ago.”

The old man sighs. “Anyway, I suppose you’d want to see for yourselves, so I drew you a map. If you find anything worthwhile, though, I’d appreciate if you’d come back and report on your discoveries.”

The group agrees and bids Geld farewell, making their way to the Green Dagger house.

Upon arrival, a brawny, leather-clad man meets Galena, Nico, Preh, Toben, and Verben at the door and leads them inside. The place is a bit cleaner and better lit than two nights before, with some of the windows now uncovered to let in daylight. The man takes them to the former dining room, where Tirra sits at one end of the table. The vivacious elf gestures for the five to sit, while the man who let them in stands to her right, near a stack of burlap and twine-wrapped bundles.

“Thanks for being so prompt,” she smiles. “But then again, everyone is prompt when there are rewards to be had.”

“As I told you before,” she continues, “the Guild has now taken charge of all Green Dagger assets and personnel. Rival organizations simply can’t be tolerated. To their credit, Cyrathas claims it was all to get our attention in the hope of gaining a position of prestige in our ranks, but one has to make a more impressive showing than he did. He’s fortunate that most Green Dagger operations took place in the River Quarter. Had their hideout been next door, in the Foreign Quarter, the Weasel would’ve had his balls–if not more. The gang was also lucky that you kids played so nice and didn’t kill anyone in his crew. Well, except the krenshar–shame about that–Lord Henway in the High Quarter or Loris Raknian at the Free City Arena might’ve given you a good price for a live one.”

“Anyway, I’m sure you’re eager to get on with it,” she says, nodding to her henchman. He hands her a bundle about the size of large book, which she passes on the Galena. The monk opens it to find a pair of lovely arm guards of blue-dyed leather trimmed in yellow and covered with intricate designs, a well-crafted sling made of deerskin and finely-braided horsehair, a sheathed dagger with a silvered blade, two small ceramic vials, and a coin pouch containing a score of squarish, platinum coins and six gold orbs.

“Some of these items were forfeited by the Green Daggers, while others are ones we had on hand, just waiting for a good home” the elf says. “Those bracers, my dear, come courtesy of Cyrathas himself, and actually provide a small degree of magical protection. The sling was handmade by the finest leather craftsman in the halfling town of Elmshire, a few days east of here. Your dagger is bonded with alchemical silver, and was made by Fedroot in the Slum Quarter. The vials hold minor potions of healing–everyone gets those.”

[Bracers of Armor +1, a masterwork sling, an alchemical silver dagger, two potions of cure light wounds, 20 pp, 6 gp]

To Toben, Tirra passes three bundles, one is a little smaller than Galena’s, while the other two are long and narrow–one about two feet long, and the other about as long as a staff. The small one contains a sheathed, silvered dagger, two ceramic vials, and a coin pouch containing eighteen platinum plates and one gold orb. The other two contain finely-crafted weapons: the smaller, a leaf-bladed short sword of elven make; the larger, an unstrung composite hornwood longbow.

“You look like a fairly ripped fellow,” says Tirra. “Take after your mother’s side, I’d wager. Anyway, that bow will make the best use of your brawn. It was made a few years back by a master bowyer in Diamond Lake named Venelle. Nice girl, with just a hint of elven blood in her veins. The sword belonged to Cyrathas himself—it might not match your longsword aesthetically, but it should still provide good company. The silvered dagger is, again, from Fedroot—he does a fair amount of work for us—and the vials are, of course, healing potions.”

[A masterwork shortsword, a masterwork composite longbow (STR +3), an alchemical silver dagger, two potions of cure light wounds, 18 pp, 1 gp]

Tirra then passes a soft bundle, a little larger than Galena’s, to Nico. He opens it to find a fine, short cape of soft, blue wool, with decorative spaulders of buff-colored leather on the shoulders. In addition, the package contains two ceramic vials and a coin purse containing twenty platinum plates and three gold orbs.

“You and Cyrathas both seem to like fancy things,” says Tirra, “so I figured you’d enjoy his cloak. It’ll make you look quite the dashing rogue with that pretty new sword of yours. Aside from tying your outfit together, the cloak’s magical, and just might save your skin one day. Again, everyone gets a pair of healing potions.”

[A cloak of resistance +1, two potions of cure light wounds, 21 pp, 3 gp]

To Preh, Galena passes two bundles. One is thin and over three feet long, while the other is the size of Nico’s bundle, but much heavier. He unwraps the first one, finding fine, somewhat familiar rapier. The other contains a chain shirt composed of fine, silvery links, two ceramic vials, and a coin purse containing eleven platinum plates and three gold orbs.

“Dalta wanted you to have her sword, Freckles” adds Tirra. “Well, not really, but she did say she would’ve ‘wiped the floor with all of ‘em if not for that damned ginger and his sticky goo,’ so I figured you deserved it. The chain shirt’s something we acquired some time ago—it’s mithral, made by the dwarves of Greysmere, several days to the southeast, beyond the Mistmarsh. I’d advise wearing it beneath your shirt or a jerkin—not only might it attract someone wanting to take it from your corpse, but it might be hard to hide in something so shiny.”

[A masterwork rapier, a mithral shirt, two potions of cure light wounds, 11 pp, 3 gp]

Tirra’s assistant carries the remaining bundles to Verben; one is large, flat, and circular; the second is large and bulky, and the last is fairly small. The priest opens them to find a familiar large wooden shield, a suit of breastplate, a silvered dagger in its sheath, 2 ceramic vials, and a coin purse containing fourteen platinum plates and nine gold orbs.

“That was Dalta’s shield,” says Tirra. “We thought it’d look better on you. The breastplate was something we’ve had lying around for a while; it kind of interferes with all that ‘stealthy’ stuff, so we thought we’d let you take it off our hands.”

[+1 heavy wooden shield, suit of breastplate, 1 silvered dagger, two potions of cure light wounds, 14 pp, 9 gp]

The group thanks Tirra, takes some time to try their items on or examine them, then departs.

“Well, what now?” asks Verben, as they exit the Green Dagger house.

“Now,” says Toben, “I think we should prepare ourselves for a tomb raid. Will you be joining us, priest?”

“When do we leave?” comes his reply.

“Given the day’s more than half through, I think its best if we leave tomorrow at first light,” says the ranger.

“Geld said that place was about thirty miles away. That’s a long walk,” says Galena.

“It’s a good thing we can afford horses, now,” replies Nico.

“Luckily, we know a guy who sells them,” says Preh. “Half-orc named Jogg the Titan, down at the False Duke’s Stables in the Slum Quarter.”

“Tell you what,” says Nico. “Preh, why don’t you take Toben down there and pick out five good horses and some tackle. I’d wager it will cost us a little over ninety orbs each but a plate from each of us will likely be enough to reserve them and have them ready for us tomorrow morning, when we can pay the remainder.”

“I can pick up some curatives at the Temple,” says Verben. “They request a donation of fifty orbs per light healing potion, and twenty-five for a flask of holy water. It is a tomb,” the priest warns, “so one should always expect undead in such places.”

“And you and Galena can pick other things we might need,” says Preh, “like alchemist’s fire, tanglefoot bags, rations, arrows, and the like. Geeridan’s should have all that–it’s on Cargo Street, across from the taxidermist next to the Green Dragon.”

The five agree, instructions are given, and money changes hands. The rest of the day is spent preparing for the journey. The five plan to meet at the Blue Dragon before dawn, secure the mounts, and leave the city by first light.


Session 5 (8/30/2019) starts here

Growfest 3, 594 CY, early afternoon

Dramatis Personae:
Galena, Lawful Neutral human female monk of the Twilight Monastery in the Cairn Hills, 3 days east of Greyhawk. Age 25, 5’7”, 120 lbs, auburn hair, green eyes. (Rachel)

Nico Bolas, Chaotic Neutral human male rogue of Greyhawk City, originally from the Wild Coast town of Fax. Age 28, 5’9”, 170 lbs, black hair, blue eyes. (Ryan)

Preh, Chaotic Neutral human male rogue of Greyhawk. Age 18, 5’5”, 135 lbs, red hair, green eyes. (Jason)

Toben Ricos, Chaotic Good half elf male ranger of the Bronzewood Lodge in the Cairn Hills, 3 days east of Greyhawk, originally from the nearby town of Diamond Lake. Age 30 (22 equiv), 5’8”, 150 lbs, brown hair, geen eyes. (Shaun)

Verben Ranzoff, Neutral Good human male cleric of Pelor from Greyhawk. Age 18, 5’11”, 200 lbs, black hair, brown eyes (former PC of Dennis, run by DM)

Immediately after walking out of Greyhawk’s Temple of Boccob, Nico, Preh, and Ricos hear a familiar voice. “There you guys are! This city is huge!”

“Hi, Galena,” says Ricos, as the monk approaches.

“Where’ve you been?” asks Preh.

“At the Dark Moon Monastery, ‘monastating,’ if you will,” she answers. “I figured you guys would go to the library, but they were closed. One the nice librarians outside said you’d gone to the Temple of Boccob. So, what did I miss?”

“Let’s talk about it over lunch,” says Preh. “I know this place just up the street.”

Nico leads Preh, Galena, and Ricos north, past the Great Library, the School of Clerkship, and the University of the Flanaess, to a large, rowdy tavern called The Roc and the Oliphant.

“We’re eating here?” asks Galena.

“This place is popular with the university crowd–well, the students, at least,” replies Nico. “I know it’s a little wilder than the monastery, but the drinks are cheap, portions are large, the marks are wide-eyed and innocent, and I know the bartender.”

“Fine,” Galena grumbles.

The four enter the crowded tavern and find an open table near the bar. “Ral! Food and ale for my friends!” Nico shouts.

An old, ugly half-orc behind the bar, wearing three small bones on a worn string about his neck, nods to a server. Before long, the four are served a hearty lunch of chicken stew with dumplings, roast carrots, and bread, along with a mug of ale.

“What’s with the bones?” asks Ricos.

“Says he wears them for luck,” replies Nico. “Don’t know much beyond that.”

Nico continues. “Okay, Galena, to bring you up to speed, we first talked to Theldrat this morning, and he came clean, revealing that his key is actually magical, and can open any lock.”

“He said he wanted that fact kept secret, though,” adds Ricos.

Nico rolls his eyes. “Anyway, we found out that the book stolen from the library has a magical lock which no one’s been able to open.”

“The librarians don’t even know the title,” interrupts Preh.

“That, too,” replies Nico. “So, the priest we talked to at the temple says he was robbed in the River Quarter about a month ago. . .”

“After visiting a brothel,” adds Ricos.

“A brothel?” asks Galena.

“Yes a brothel,” says Nico, perturbed by the interruptions. “He said Boccob doesn’t care if his clerics visit prostitutes, that’s why he’s called ‘the Uncaring’!”

“Well, I don’t think that’s the only reason,” adds Preh.

“Will you guys shut up and let me finish?” Nico admonishes, as the others share a grin at his frustration. “Anyway, the mugger didn’t take the cleric’s coin purse, just his robes and holy symbol, and his description matches that of this ‘Veltargo’ that Cyrathas described–thin, balding, bad hygiene.”

“So it’s likely that Veltargo disguised himself as a priest of Boccob, then hired Cyrathas to steal the key from Theldrat because he needed it to open the book he was planning to steal from the library,” says Galena.

“Right,” says Nico, “only the Green Daggers were too sick to pull it off, so they hired Irontusk.”

“Only the ‘cure’ Veltargo gave to the Green Daggers in return for the key was fake,” says Galena. “So he’s definitely not a priest.”

“Not of Boccob, certainly,” says Preh.

“So how do we find him?” asks Galena.

“Well, Altamaic, the priest who was robbed, managed to rip this from his attacker’s neck,” replies Nico, handing Galena the pendant. “Do you recognize it?”

The monk examines the pendant, about 2" long and carved of blood-red marble, in the shape of a fist squeezing out a drop of blood.

“No, I don’t” she replies. “Did you notice these small bumps on the back? They’re irregular, but may be some sort of code.”

“No, we haven’t had a chance to really look at it closely until now,” replies Nico. “I was thinking we might check with the Guild of Wizardry and see if anyone there knows.”

“That place is pretty exclusive from what I hear,” says Preh. “They won’t let just anybody waltz in there off the street. We’d probably need to make an appointment, days in advance.”

“I have an idea,” says Ricos. “The reason I came to Greyhawk in the first place was to deliver an old journal to a man named Lazzarin Geld–he owns Geld’s Maps in the River Quarter.”

“Yeah, I showed you where it was,” says Preh.

“That’s right,” replies the ranger. “Anyway, when I delivered the journal two days ago, Geld invited me to return if I happen to run across any interesting ‘artifacts or curiousities’.”

“Well, I’d say this definitely qualifies as a curiousity,” says Galena, passing the pendant to Ricos.

The four agree, finish lunch, and make their way back to the River Quarter. They arrive at an old manor house on the corner of Horseshoe Road and Cargo Street, with a large sign reading “Geld’s Maps” [#14] on the door.

“What’s that symbol?” Galena asks, point to a stylized eight-pointed star carved above the door.

“Hells, if I know,” Ricos replies. The same symbol was on the cover of the journal I delivered and Geld himself wears a ring bearing it as well.

“Probably a guild symbol for cartographers or something, if I had to guess,” adds Nico.

The door leads to a small office, where an old human sits at a map-covered desk.

“Ah, Ricos was it? Thank you again for delivering the item.”

“No, problem,” replies the half-elf. “My friends and I were wondering if . . .”

“Your friends have names, boy?”

“Sorry. Mister Geld, these are my friends Nico, Preh, and Galena.”

“Well met,” says Geld. “Now then, what can I help you with?”

Ricos hands the pendant to Geld. “Do you know what this is?”

The old man turns the pendant over in his hand, then retrieves a jeweler’s glass from his desk drawer and examines it more closely. “Well, it looks authentic. I believe this to be what’s called a ‘cairn charm’, lad.”

“A cairn charm?,” asks Ricos.

“Yes. You see, they’re often hung on the inside of tombs found in the Cairn Hills to ward off evil spirits. No two cairns use the same charm. Which one did this one come from?”

“We were hoping you could tell us,” says Ricos. “We actually found it in the city.”

“Ah, well, it’s not unusual to see these turn up in a market stall or a curio shop. I can probably found out where this came from, but I’ll have to do some research. Tell me–are you still at the Blue Dragon?”

“Yes,” replies Ricos.

“Well, leave this with me, and I should have an answer for you sometime tomorrow–I’ll send for you as soon as I find out.”

“Fair enough. Thanks, Mister Geld.”

“Farewell, lad. Nice meeting your friends.”

Ricos, Preh, Galena, and Nico leave Geld’s Maps. As they’re all still a bit weak from the previous night’s encounter with the spider swarm (and the stirges, in the case of Ricos), they decide to spend the rest of the day taking it easy. That evening, they catch up Verben again, and over dinner at the Blue Dragon, Ricos reveals that his first name is “Toben,” and that “Ricos” is actually a surname that he uses until he feels comfortable with people.

“You realize there’s a good chance we’re going to keep calling you ‘Ricos,’ anyway, right?” asks Nico.

“Either is fine,” replies Toben.

After dinner, Preh leads the group on a tour of the River Quarter. A few hours later, the group retires for the night; Verben returns to his quarters at the Temple of Pelor, Nico to his room in the Foreign Quarter, Preh to his cot at Guild headquarters in the River Quarter, and Galena and Ricos to their rooms at the Blue Dragon. Before parting, the five agree to meet at the Blue Dragon for lunch the next day and await word from Geld.


Growfest 3, 594 CY, morning

After a good night’s sleep (and a vigorous scrubbing, in Nico’s case), Preh and Nico make their way from their respective lodgings to the Blue Dragon Inn, where Ricos waits for them in the inn’s taproom.

“Where’s Galena?” asks Preh.

“She said she had to do something or other over at the Dark Moon Monastery. Verben sent a messenger, said he couldn’t make it either—duties at the temple of somesuch.”

“Then it’s just us,” says Nico, as he and Preh take a seat. Over breakfast, the three discuss what they know.

“Tirra told us that a witness saw a cleric of Boccob leaving the library with the stolen book two days ago, sometime before dawn,” says Nico.

“And Cyrathas told us that this ‘Veltargo,’ who hired them to steal Theldrat’s key, was wearing Boccobite robes,” continues Preh.

“So, after Irontusk gives the key to Cyrathas, Veltargo comes to collect—only this time he has a large book,” finishes Ricos. “Can’t be coincidence.”

“But why would he need Theldrat’s key?” wonders Nico.

“Well, Theldrat’s shop is right across the square,” gestures Preh. “Let’s go see him.”

The three go to Theldrat’s shop, where they finally get Theldrat to reveal the truth—the key is more than just a family heirloom—it’s also magical, and will open any lock. Theldrat begs them not to reveal the truth, as the key is what made him famed for being the best locksmith in Greyhawk. The three tacitly agree not to reveal the truth, then leave the shop.

“Where to now?” asks Ricos.

“Let’s try the Great Library,” says Nico.

“And the Temple of Boccob is right across from it. We can check there after,” adds Preh.

The three companions leave the Foreign Quarter, walk up Horseshoe Road through the River Quarter, then cross the Processional into Clerkberg, Greyhawk’s district of learning, bustling with universities, boarding houses and cathedrals, all dwarfed by the Free City Arena at its center. On the far side of the quarter, just inside the city’s eastern wall, sits an old building with the aspect of an ancient fortress. Large stone columns support a heavy lintel over an entry flanked by weathered stone statues of scholars holding open books before them in praise. A grand stone staircase rises from the street to the feet of the statues. Two men in grey robes stand at the head of the stairs, with arms folded and gazes set.

One of the men introduces himself as Geraal Wistroan, and tells them that the library is to remain closed until the end of Growfest, due to the burglary two days ago. Upon further inquiry about the theft, the three learn that it happened a few hours before dawn on Growfest 1st, when a young scholar who’d been up all night doing researched witnessed a man dressed a a cleric of Boccob abscond through a window carrying a large book, then took off through the city at a dead run.

“Did he run that way?” Nico points southwest, to his right, toward the Temple of Boccob.

“One would think that, but no. The witness said he ran that way,” Geraal points toward the lane running northwest between the School of Clerkship and the University of the Flanaess, “which is why few of us at the library believe the theft was sanctioned by the Boccobites. Nonetheless, the Watch has stationed a squad at the temple should the thief return.”

“Do you know which book was stolen?” asks Nico.

“Yes, though we don’t know the title,” the young scholar replies. “Upon further investigation, the head librarian, Iquander, discovered that the only missing book was one that had sat in one of the library’s rare book rooms for decades, its contents unknown due to its clasp being held by a magic lock that defies all attempts to open it.”

The party thanks Geraal for his time and departs.

“I guess now we know why that Veltargo guy wanted Theldrat’s key,” whispers Preh. “Where to now?”

“Let’s see if they know anything at the temple,” says Nico. “If there’s not a priest named ‘Veltargo’ there, then we’ll know for sure he’s not a real priest.”

“Well, at least not one of Boccob,” adds Ricos.

The three make their way down a nearby side street to the nearby Temple of Boccob, a stately structure of clean marble and simple decoration. Emblazoned above the main entryway is a faintly glowing blue eye contained within a pentagon.

“Ah, the All-Seeing Eye of Boccob the Uncaring, god of magic,” states Nico.

“Well, let’s hope that someone saw something,” replies Preh.

The three enter the temple, where four Greyhawk watchmen, garbed in black trousers and red jerkins with a stylized golden star on the chest and back. A novice of Boccob approaches the three, and after learning why they have come, leads them to a rather lavish sitting room, asking them to wait. After about an hour, a thin young man in the purple robes of a Boccobite acolyte, who introduces himself as Altamaic the Calm.

When asked about the theft, Altamaic tells the party that the Boccobites are just as outraged by the theft as the librarians at the Great Library, if not more so, as the thief has impugned their reputation.

“Is there, or has there even been, a priest here named ‘Veltargo’,” asks Nico. “Human, thin, balding, bad hygiene?”

Altamaic goes pale. “No, I’m not familiar with that name, and none of our clergy or layfolk fit that description, though I believe I may have encountered that man before.”

“Go on,” say Nico.

“See, one night about a month ago, on my way back to the temple after, er, ministering to some folk in the River Quarter. . .”

“I’m from the River Quarter,” says Preh. “I’m pretty sure the god of magic doesn’t have much of a following there.”

Altamaic blushes. “If you must know, I was visiting a girl at the Sea Willow.”

“That’s a brothel,” Preh informs Ricos, who arches an eyebrow.

“Don’t be shocked,” Altamaic say. “Boccob is called ‘the Uncaring’ for a reason. Unlike some gods, celibacy is not something he chooses to monitor.”

“Please continue,” says Nico.

“Anyway, I was on my way back to the temple, and I’d perhaps had a bit too much wine as well, when assaulted by a man fitting the description of your ‘Veltargo’. He beat me to the ground, then took my vestments and holy symbol, but not my coin purse, which I thought was odd, until I’d heard about the robbery at the library two days ago.”

“Did you tell the Watch?” asks Ricos.

“Indeed,” answers Altamaic. “Both after the assault and then two days ago, when they first came to the temple to investigate the book theft. I even showed them this, but they didn’t think it was important. You have a name, at least–perhaps this will lead you to your man.”

Altamaic pulls a pendant from his pocket and hands it to Nico. The item is about two inches long, of blood-red marble, and carved in the shape of a clenched fist squeezing out a drop of blood.

“I managed to pull that from my attacker’s neck. I’m not sure what it is–it represents no faith that I’m familiar with, so I don’t think it’s a religious article. If that will help you find the stolen book, please keep it.”

“Thank you,” replies Nico. “One more thing, Altamaic. Do you recognize this symbol?” He pulls out Theldrat’s drawing of the stolen key and points to the pair of parallel wavy lines on its head.

“Why, yes,” the priest replies. “That’s the rune for insanity, which is also used as a holy symbol by Boccob’s servitor deity, Zagyg, the demigod of humor, eccentricity, occult lore, and unpredictability!”

“Zagig?” asks Preh. “Wasn’t he like, Lord Mayor of Greyhawk a long time ago?”

“Yes, over two centuries ago as a matter of fact,” the priest answers. “He built Castle Greyhawk just a few miles outside of the city, across the river. He was also responsible for expanding the city walls, and a number of other innovations that the city benefits from to this day. That was before he went mad, however. It is said that his madness allowed him the insight to find a path to godhood. Sometime after he up and vanished from the city and abandoned his duties, he supposedly built a trap in his castle which captured nine demigods, including Iuz, ruler of the evil empire far to the north. He allegedly was able to drain some of their essence to fuel his own ascension to divinity. Iuz, as many know, escaped the Godtrap over twenty years ago, as did most of the others. Since that key has Zagyg’s symbol, I’d wager it’s important to his faith–perhaps he even made it. You think its related to the book that was stolen? I know it has an impervious lock–perhaps both book and key could be artifacts of the Mad Archmage?”

“Um, we don’t know, yet,” answer’s Nico. “Is there a temple to Zagyg in the city?”

“No. We have a small shrine here for those who want to offer prayers, as does the Guild of Wizardry, but the few dedicated followers Zagyg has don’t usually have the attention span to set up a house of worship and keep it running.”

Nico, Preh, and Ricos bid farewell to Altamaic and exit the Temple of Boccob.


Growfest 2, 594 CY, about 10 pm
(session played 8/23/2019, Jason, Rob, Ryan, and Shaun present; Rachel out, Galena ran by Jason)

Dramatis Personae:
Galena, Lawful Neutral human female monk of the Twilight Monastery in the Cairn Hills, 3 days east of Greyhawk. Age 25, 5’7”, 120 lbs, auburn hair, green eyes. (Rachel, run by Jason)

Nico Bolas, Chaotic Neutral human male rogue of Greyhawk City, originally from the Wild Coast town of Fax. Age 28, 5’9”, 170 lbs, black hair, blue eyes. (Ryan)

Preh, Chaotic Neutral human male rogue of Greyhawk. Age 18, 5’5”, 135 lbs, red hair, green eyes. (Jason)

Toben Ricos, Chaotic Good half elf male ranger of the Bronzewood Lodge in the Cairn Hills, 3 days east of Greyhawk, originally from the nearby town of Diamond Lake. Age 30 (22 equiv), 5’8”, 150 lbs, brown hair, geen eyes. (Shaun)

Verben Ranzoff, Neutral Good human male cleric of Pelor from Greyhawk. Age 18, 5’11”, 200 lbs, black hair, brown eyes (former PC of Dennis, run by DM)

Their foe having surrendered, Ricos retrieves his rope from his pack while Preh and Galena disarm and search their prisoner, a human female in black leather armor, about 5', 6" tall, with wavy brown hair tied back in a ponytail. In addition to her weaponry and armor, they find two ceramic vials of liquid, a keyring holding three keys, and a coin pouch with ten orbs. As Ricos begins tying her hands behind her back, Nico pockets the 10 gold orbs found in her coin purse and leads the interrogation, learning to his dismay that she is not, as he suspected, the Green Dagger leader Cyrathas, but Dalta Gwyn, his lieutenant.

Eventually, Nico convinces Dalta to take the party to Cyrathas. Though he wants to gag her, she convinces him not to, as it might draw the ire of her leader’s bodyguards. He also learns that her vials are “healing potions” (cure light wounds). She takes the party through the double doors on the balcony into a 20’ x 10’ hallway lit by sputtering oil lamps, containing a blue, threadbare rug and a pair of grimy chairs. Two single doors lie opposite the hall, with a pair of double doors at the hall’s west end (to their right), and a single door to the left, that one with several strips of cloth wedged in the cracks between the door and its frame.

“What’s in there?” asks Nico, gesturing toward the door.

“Damned vile vermin that continually attempt to infest the house,” answers Dalta. “We finally got the buggers isolated to that one room.”

“Yeah, we encountered some of those outside,” adds Ricos, referring to the stirges nesting in the stables.

“What about these other doors?” asks Nico.

Dalta nods toward the one closest to the sheet-stuffed door. “That one’s the boss’s office. T’other’s where the senior members of the gang sleep. Those,” she tilts her head toward the double doors, “lead outside, to the patio, and the boss.”

Preh searches the office door for traps, finding none, the group enters. Inside, they find a room that looks as if it’s been recently cleaned and painted. A table with a single chair sits in the center of the room. A large, unmarked map of the River Quarter lays on the table, next to two large ledgers.

“What’s in the books?” Nico asks Dalta.

“Not sure,” she replies. “The boss is the only one who uses ‘em. I assume he keeps track of our expenses and assets and such.”

Nico takes the ledgers. “Maybe we can go over these later,” he says.

Preh searches the other door for traps, finding none, but he does find the door to be locked.

“The key’s on my keyring,” says Dalta. “Not sure why you feel the need to toss the whole place if you’re just here to talk to the boss, though.”

“Just a standard precaution,” replies Nico.

Preh unlocks the door with one of Dalta’s keys. Within is a bedchamber with two bunkbeds, a table, and a wooden wardrobe. Nico and Preh rifle through the wardrobe, finding several outfits, from scholarly robes to mummer’s garb, about half of them in small sizes, as if for children. Most of the items, including the smaller clothing, seems to be for females.

“You’d look nice in that,” remarks Dalta, as Nico inspects a well-made ball gown. “Let me know when you’re done sorting through my smallclothes, so we can see the boss and get this over with.”

As Nico blushes, Preh holds up a small wooden coffer. “Found this, too,” the younger thief says.

After ensuring there are no traps, Preh hands the box to Nico, who finds three small emeralds within. After careful consideration, the rogues decide not to take anything else and put the coffer back in the wardrobe. The group then moves to the double doors leading outside.

After finding no traps, Preh opens the doors with one of Dalta’s keys. The portals lead to a covered, rooftop walkway 10’ wide, fenced in with wrought iron bars, leading to another set of double doors. The floor of the walkway is covered in feathers and pigeon droppings, and two closed gates on either side of the walkway lead to rooftop porches.

After Preh ensures the double doors are not trapped, he uses the key to unlock them. Ricos pushes Dalta before him, her hands bound behind her, with Nico at his side and Galena, Preh, and Verben following.

Within, dim lantern light reveals a chamber of small wooden pillars spaced at five-foot intervals. They are unable to determine the size of the room, as a series of semi-transparent veils of green cloth hang between each set of pillars, throwing the room into a lush, greenish haze.

“Stand down girls,” cries Dalta. They’re just here to speak with the boss.” Soon, a small, leather-clad figure emerges from behind one of the veils. The party soon determines it to be a female halfing.

“They hurt you, Dalta?” the newcomer asks.

“My pride mostly, Risa. Almost had ‘em, but the ginger fights dirty.”

“The boy or the girl?” the halfling asks, looking between Preh and Galena.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have had to if you hadn’t used a chandelier and sabotaged that stairway!” retorts Preh.

“Sounds like you two were made for each other,” Risa grins. “What about the others?”

“Our priest companion was able to help them,” replies Nico.

“One was already dead when we found him, though,” adds Verben. “It was too late, I’m afraid.”

“Not helping. . . .” whispers Nico.

“And your friend Stitch will never regain his sight, I’m afraid,” the priest continues.

“Still not helping. . . .” Nico groans.

“But the others should make a full recovery,” Verben finishes, smiling.

“Well, I suppose ‘honesty really is the best policy,’ as my Granddaddy Leatherfoot used to say,” Risa replies. “Follow me, but stick to the path.” The party follows the halfling’s twists and turns through the veils, until they reach a cloth-draped wall, behind which lies a secret door. Opening the door, the halfling leads them down a long hall, until the group finally reaches a small room with a door, flanked by a chair and a small brass pipe which emerges from the wall and ends in a horn. Risa pulls a cord hanging from the ceiling sounding a bell beyond the door.

“Some folks here to speak with ya, boss,” the halfing speaks into the horn. “They have Dalta with ‘em. She’s their prisoner, but she looks mostly okay.”

Shortly afterward, a cold, haughty voice sounds from the horn. “And whom, may I ask, do I have the extreme displeasure of speaking to?”

“Cyrathas, I presume?” replies Nico. “I am Nico Bolas. Dalta’s just a little bruised, but to be fair, so are we. She’ll recover. Well, maybe not her pride.”

“Why have you come?”

“We’re looking for the key you hired Irontusk to steal,” answers Nico.

“Damnable orcspawn. I knew I couldn’t trust him not to sell us out to a rival gang.”

“Look, we’re not really a rival gang,” replies Nico. “We come in good faith—we even brought a priest of Pelor along—he saw to the welfare of your sick companions downstairs.”

“Well, one of them was already—ow!” Verben starts, before being elbowed in the ribs by Galena.

“Sick? They were given a cure just yesterday. The healer said it might take a few days for them to recover.”

“Well, our priest examined the vials,” says Nico. “Turns out, the only thing it cures is thirst.”

“Rosewater, I think” adds Verben.

“Why should I believe you?” Cyrathas asks from beyond the door.

“Send your lit—er, ‘henchhalfling’ downstairs to confirm everything,” replies Nico. “Then maybe you can open this door so we can talk face-to-face.”

“Very well. Go, lass.”

Risa leaves, only to return minutes later.

“Wow. You’re faster that I would have thought,” observes Ricos.

“‘Short legs run faster,’ as Granddaddy Leatherfoot always said,” the halfling replies.

“Not sure that’s how it works,” Galena whispers to Verben.

Risa speaks into the horn. “The kids look like they’re doing better, boss. But Annar’s dead. The priest said he was already dead when they found ‘im. Don’t see no wounds, so he’s likely telling the truth. Foreskinface is dead, though.”

“Who?” asks the voice beyond the door, as Nico starts rethinking his suggestion that the halfling check downstairs.

“The krenshar, boss,” Risa replies. “That’s what we named it.”

“What!?” says the voice beyond the door, incredulously.

“It attacked us,” says Ricos. “the city is no place for a dangerous beast like that.”

Nico spins into damage control mode. “Look Cyrathas,” he says, “we’re actually with the Thieves’ Guild, and we’re here because it just so happens that Irontusk and his cronies broke into a shop under the protection of Mister Furzear. Now, we regret how things turned out with your pet, but casualties could’ve been much worse. Plus, our priest didn’t have to help your sick.”

“Well, actually, the tenants of my faith—ow!” Verben begins, before receiving another elbow to the ribs from Galena. “And I promise to continue to check in on them until they’re back on their feet!” the priest shouts.

“The Thieves’ Guild, you say? A moment.”

The party hears the latch release, then the door slowly swings open. The spacious, grand chamber beyond is brightly lit by oil lamps, with rich new tapestries hanging from the walls and fine woven rugs covering the floor. Upon a gilded throne, inlaid with silver on a low dais, sits a tall, lean elf with neatly-cropped blond hair, dressed in finery of green and blue.

“Welcome,” Cyrathas says, gesturing as if he were opening the door himself. “On behalf of the Green Daggers, we gladly accept your invitation to the Guild.”

“Umm,” begins Nico, “well, yes, but you realize I’m going to have to run everything by my superiors first. Returning Theldrat’s key will make things go smoother.”

“I’m afraid we no longer have it,” replies Cyrathas. The elf goes on to explain that about two weeks ago, some of the junior Green daggers contracted blinding sickness. Cyrathas tried to isolate the stricken members, but the disease still spread. Then, about three days ago, on Coldeven 27th, he and one of his lieutenants, the half-elf Daylin, were approached by an ill-kempt cleric of Boccob named Boccob in the Low Market, who noticed that Daylin was showing signs of the disease. The cleric, a thin, balding man with dirty nails and crooked teeth named Veltargo, offered a cure in return for a favor—he wished to acquire a particular key in the possession of a Foreign Quarter locksmith. Desperate, Cyrathas agreed, but given that most of his crew were too sick, or were tending to other duties, he had to resort to hiring Irontusk. He hired the half-orc on the evening of Coldeven 28th, and by the next morning, near dawn, Irontusk returned with his prize. A bit later, Veltargo came to collect the key and turned over the cure, which Cyrathas quickly distributed to the rest of the gang. The elf knows no more about where Veltargo went, or how to find him.

“Was Veltargo still wearing his priestly robes?” asks Nico.

“He was,” replies Cyrathas, “and he still hadn’t cleaned them. He was also bearing a large book for some reason.”

“A book?” asks Ricos?

“Yes,” answers the elf. “I assumed it was filled with scriptures or some such—I paid little heed.”

“Do you know anything about a theft at the Great Library that morning?” asks Nico.

“There was a theft? No, I assure you—the Green Daggers had nothing to do with it. As I said, we haven’t been very active since the sickness took. Those who weren’t bedridden were caring for those who were, or were standing guard.”

Satisfied that Cyrathas knows no more, Nico returns the ledgers and Ricos unties Dalta. The elf then commands Dalta to go with them to meet Nico’s superiors in the Thieves’ Guild and bring them back for further negotiations. Dalta, this time unbound, leads the group across the walkway and through the door leading to house’s main section. There, in the hallway with the blue carpet, Preh and Nico are shocked to see a familiar face—an attractive, dark-haired elven woman in leather, accompanied by a pair of rough-looking human males, also in leather.

“Hello boys,” she says. “Care to introduce me to your friends?”

“Um,” says Preh, “Ricos, Galena, Verben—this is Tirra—she’s my boss, I guess you’d say. Oh! And this is Dalta—she’s with the Green Daggers. Nico just opened up negotiations with her boss, and he was wanting to join the Guild.”

“Oh, really,” says Tirra, raising an eyebrow. “Well, my dear, tonight’s your lucky night,” she says, walking forward and putting her arm through Dalta’s.

“Let’s go and have a talk with this boss of yours. While we’re chatting, Preh, Nico, why don’t you and your friends see what they’re hiding in there,” she says, pointing to the door jammed with cloth strips. “Oh, and really, you’re lucky I had this place staked out after you showed me that map earlier this evening. One of your little friends—a half-elf boy named Daylin, says his father’s the boss—tried running out. You ever heard of rope?”

“Believe me, they have,” grumbles Dalta, rubbing her wrists.

Tirra raises an eyebrow again. “Do tell, dear. Well, maybe some other time. There’s business to attend to. Oh, one more thing,” she says, nodding to one of her men, who hands Preh a knapsack. “The rest of the crew is downstairs, securing the premises. Oh, don’t worry, dear,” she says, noting the worried look in Dalta’s eyes, “it’s merely a formality.”

“Anyway,” Tirra continues, “you all look like hell. She,” she nods in Dalta’s direction, “must be a real wildcat, eh?” Preh opens the knapsack. “A few goodies we found with the sickies downstairs. Two healing potions, and a couple flasks of alchemist’s fire—you would’ve found them if you’d bothered opening their chests.”

“Um, the priest was watching,” says Preh, sheepishly.

“Never mind. Wait for me when I return. We’ve a few more things to discuss. Well Dalta,” Tirra says, still holding the other woman’s arm. “Let’s go meet this boss of yours.” The two walk out the door, followed by Tirra’s bodyguards.

“Well, those look as smell the same as the ones we took from Dalta,” says Nico, looking at the potions Tirra gave Preh, “so I guess she wasn’t lying. Looks like we have four total.”

“I’m not wounded,” says Verben, “so the four of you go ahead.”
Preh, Nico, Ricos, and Galena each down a potion, and are healed significantly. Preh passes the two flasks of alchemist’s fire to Galena. “Here—I’m all full,” he says, as she puts them in her satchel.

“Well, let’s see about this door,” Preh says. “It doesn’t appear to be trapped,” he says, after carefully searching.

“Dalta said it was infested with Vermin,” says Ricos. “I’d wager more stirges.” The ranger draws the longsword he found in the armory. “I’ll open it. You guys ready?”

The rest of the group stand ready with their weapons as Ricos grabs the door handle. Nico stands directly behind Ricos, Preh stands to Nico’s left, Galena stands behind Nico, and Verben behind Preh. The ranger yanks the door open to see a room filled with cobwebs and a shuddering, crawling mass of thousands of hand-sized spiders bursts out, covering everyone in the party save Verben!

“Eeek!” Galena screams, as the spiders crawl up her legs.

“Those aren’t stirges!” Verben yells.

Feeling week from hundreds of venomous bites, Nico runs into Dalta’s room, shutting the door behind him, but the vermin crawl beneath the door like a great writhing carpet and engulf him as he falls to the floor, unconscious.

Verben retreats outside to the walkway, where he pulls a torch from his pack and furiously begins trying to light it.

Preh and Ricos, both overwhelmed by nausea, stumble through the doors to their left, leading to the ballroom where they first encountered Dalta. Preh begins fumbling through his satchel for a flask of alchemist’s fire, while Ricos tries to remove a torch from his pack.

“Kill it with fire!” scream Galena, stepping back and throwing a flask of alchemist’s fire at the swarm, scoring a direct hit and lighting the carpet on fire.

While Ricos and Verben are still trying to light their torches, Preh gets his bearings and pulls out a flask of alchemist fire, as he moves back towards the swarm, he hears another fiery burst from the hall.

“Die you eight-legged bastards!” screams Galena, her second flask finally dispersing the swarm, leaving the hall a cared, burning mess.

“Quick, we need to put this fire out!” yells Ricos.

“I’ll check on Nico!” says Verben, opening the door to Dalta’s room.

The half-elf and Preh stomp out the remaining flames while Galena does her best to stomp out every last spider she sees. Verben finds Nico in rough shape, but is able bring him back to full consciousness with a scroll of cure light wounds. “Glad I was hanging out to that,” the priest says.

The group catches their breath, then explores the room, finding little more than desiccated pigeons. Galena returns to stomping surviving spiders with her staff, Preh, Verben, and Ricos join her, while Nico checks his body and clothing for spider eggs. About half and hour passes before Tirra and her henchmen return.

“Gods, what happened here,” she asks.

“Godsdamned disgusting nasty hairy evil bigassed motherf%$#ing spiders!” snaps Galena.

“Something tells me you’re gonna get along just dandy with drow,” Tirra smirks. “Okay, kiddos, here’s the deal. The Green Daggers has infringed on the rights and territory of the Guild, an offense that cannot and will not be ignored. Therefore, all Green Dagger assets and personnel are now under our purview. Luckily, that fool Cyrathas only sought to impress us, rather than supplant us, no legs need breaking. He’s also fortunate that his hideout and most of his operations took place in the River Quarter—one district over, and the Weasel would have him gelded. He’s also lucky you guys played so nice—well, except for his pet—pity that, we might’ve been able to sell that thing to Henway or maybe Raknian.”

Tirra pauses. “We are going to take inventory and appraise the value of their assets. Don’t worry, you will be rewarded for your efforts. Is there anything of significant value you’ve picked up while here and want to leave with?” she asks.

“Well, I found this rapier and crossbow in their armory,” volunteers Nico.

“That’s where I found this longsword,” adds Ricos.

After determining that those are the only items of any major value claimed by the party, Tirra tells them she’ll contact them in a day or two with the remainder of their reward. Verben asks after the sick gang members, and Tirra tells him they’ll be allowed to remain at the house until they’re well, and that Verben is welome to drop by over the next few days and check on their progress. The party bids Tirra farewell and leaves the Green Dagger house. Ricos and Galena return to their rooms at the Blue Dragon, Verben returns to the Temple of Pelor, and Preh and Nico return to their cots at Guild headquarters in the River and Foreign quarters, respectively. Before parting, they agree to meet at the Blue Dragon Inn the next day to discuss how to find Veltargo and Theldrat’s key.


Growfest 2, 594 CY, about 7 pm

(session played 8/14/2019, Jason, Rachel, Rob, Ryan, and Shaun present)

Dramatis Personae:
Galena, Lawful Neutral human female monk of the Twilight Monastery in the Cairn Hills, 3 days east of Greyhawk. Age 25, 5’7”, 120 lbs, auburn hair, green eyes. (Rachel)

Nico Bolas, Chaotic Neutral human male rogue of Greyhawk City, originally from the Wild Coast town of Fax. Age 28, 5’9”, 170 lbs, black hair, blue eyes. (Ryan)

Preh, Chaotic Neutral human male rogue of Greyhawk. Age 18, 5’5”, 135 lbs, red hair, green eyes. (Jason)

Toben Ricos, Chaotic Good half elf male ranger of the Bronzewood Lodge in the Cairn Hills, 3 days east of Greyhawk, originally from the nearby town of Diamond Lake. Age 30 (22 equiv), 5’8”, 150 lbs, brown hair, geen eyes. (Shaun)

Verben Ranzoff, Neutral Good human male cleric of Pelor from Greyhawk. Age 18, 5’11”, 200 lbs, black hair, brown eyes (former PC of Dennis, run by DM)

Preh and Nico enter the Blue Dragon Inn, where Galena and Ricos sit at table with Verben Ranzoff, the young Pelorian priest who healed their wounds the previous day at Greyhawk’s Temple of Pelor. Verben tells the new arrivals that he was on his way back from the City Orphanage in Old City (Greyhawk’s southern portion, consisting of the Thieves’ Quarter and Slum Quarter) and decided to drop by the Blue Dragon and see how the new arrivals to the city were doing (he shared a carriage from Blackstone to Greyhawk with Galena and Ricos–see Coldeven 27, 594 CY).

“So, did you guys catch Irontusk?” asks Ricos?

“Who’s Irontusk?” Verben asks, as Nico and Preh cast disapproving scowls at the half-elf.

Despite their rebuke of Ricos, the rogues feel Verben can be trusted, so share what they learned from the half-orc. They decide to investigate the hideout. Verben offers to accompany them, and they gladly accept his companionship. After Preh and Nico scarf down a quick meal and stash some of their gear in Ricos’s room, the five exit the Blue Dragon onto the streets of Greyhawk, where members of the Lamplighters’ Guild tend to their nightly routine lighting streetlamps, torches, and other illuminatory devices across the city, whilst residents and visitors alike take to the streets, seeking out (or offering) the myriad forms of entertainment available this holiday season.

The group eventually locate the suspected Green Dagger hideout, an old, decrepit merchant house at the end of a dead-end lane on a small bluff abutting the Noble’s Wall. Its sagging walls and boarded windows give the impression of abandonment, but the fact that the front door appears to have been recently replaced says otherwise. The five retreat to a corner on Cargo Street in view of the house, attempting to appear as holiday revelers loitering about. Nico buys a couple bags of hot roasted chestnuts from a young street vendor to complete the ruse. As the others attempt to look natural, Nico questions the boy, but he knows little of the house, as he claims to live elsewhere in the city. The lad only seems to know some of the major locations along Cargo Street–the Green Dragon [#1], the River Quarter City Watch Station [#2], Hauld’s Apothecary [#3], the Low Seas Tavern [#9], Onella’s Palms (fortune teller) [#7], The Lore of the Lake (taxidermist) [#6], Geeridan’s (supplies) [#8], the River Quarter Mission (Cuthbertine mission) [#12], the Wizard’s Hat Inn [#15], Geld’s Maps [#14], and the Dark Moon Monastery [#4]. After observing the house for an hour bears no fruit, Nico suggests they ask the monks of the Dark Moon Monastery if they’ve noticed any suspicious activity at the house.

On the way there, Nico asks Verben what he knows about the Dark Moon monks, but the Pelorian seems to know little, only that they follow some esoteric philosophy of the Baklunish West and practice a strange form of unarmed combat, with some displaying unusual mental abilities resembling magic. Ricos asks the priest if he knows anything about the eight-pointed star symbol that was on the journal the ranger delivered to Lazzarin Geld (who also wore a silver ring bearing the symbol) yesterday, but the priest seems unfamiliar with it. “Maybe it’s the symbol of a fraternal organization or adventuring company they belonged to. You might try going back and asking sometime,” offers Verben.

It’s about 9:00 pm when Galena, Nico, Preh, Ricos, and Verben arrive at the Dark Moon Monastery [#4], a sprawling estate of white stone arches and enclosed courtyards overlooking the River Quarter from the small bluff supporting the Nobles’ Wall. Nico knocks on the large ironbound doors, and about five minutes later someone on the other side slides open the viewing slat, revealing a pair of stern eyes.

“Yes?” a man’s voice asks.

“Um, we’d like to see if anyone here knows anything about the dilapidated house to the east of here,” says Nico.

“It is not owned by the monastery. I fear you will have to look elsewhere should you wish to purchase it.”

“No, wait!” says Nico, as the man begins closing the slat. “We’re not interested in buying, but we think there may be something nefarious going on there.

“‘Nefarious’, you say? One moment.” The man closes the slat, then unlocks and opens the door, revealing a muscular bald man in a plain grey robe. “Ah, sister,” he says, addressing Galena. “Why did you not announce your presence?”

“Because that one,” she says, pointing to Nico, “likes to do all the talking.”

“I can see that,” replies the monk.

“Why didn’t you say you know these guys?” whispers Ricos.

“Because no one asked,” Galena shrugs.

“So then,” replies the monk, “what are these ‘nefarious’ dealings you speak of at the abandoned house?”

“We think there’s a gang of thieves hiding out there,” says Nico. “We were just wondering if anyone here saw anything suspicious?”

“No one here has mentioned such. Then again, we do tend to mind our own affairs, and the Guild of Thieves would endure much regret were they to enter our gates with ill intent. But we thank you for the information. We shall remain vigilant. Will there be anything else?”

“Well, I guess not,” replies Nico, bowing awkwardly. “Thanks for your time.”

The monk nods, a hint of a grin running across his face before turning to Galena. “Safe travels sister,” bowing slightly. “And to your allies.”

“Thanks,” Galena replies, also bowing.

The five decide to get a closer look at the alleged hideout. Though dark, the clear sky allows nearly-full aquamarine Celene and the waxing crescent of ghost-white Luna to provide serviceable illumination. Nico and Preh walk the perimeter, finding all windows completely boarded up. The upper story of the house consists of two separate sections, between which lies an open-air porch accessible gates in an a iron-barred, roofed walkway between the two sections. A door at each end of the walkway provides entry to each f the two upper sections. The leftmost upper section is larger, forming an overhang on the left side of the house, under which sits a modest stable. There seems to be two entrances to the ground floor–the front door, and a side door to the left, opposite the stables.

Deciding that they’ve waited long enough, the group decides to try entering the building. Preh, Galena, and Verben begin examining the main door, while Nico and Ricos go to investigate the one across from the stables.

As Nico and Ricos approach, three stirges fly from their nest in one of the stalls and attack. One attaches itself to Ricos chest and sticks its proboscis into his neck, draining some of his blood (–3 CON). Nico skewers one with his rapier, while Preh fells another with his shortsword. Galena and Verben help Ricos remove the one attached to the half-elf’s neck, and Nico finishes it. Catching their breath, the five then return to their task.

Preh discovers the main entrance is trapped with an alarm and locked. Nico discovers the side entrance is neither locked nor trapped, but the door is barricaded. The rogues share their findings, and decide to use the main entrance, feeling that it will be quieter. Preh disables the alarm and picks the lock, and the five enter the Green dagger hideout.

The five enter an entry hall, a little under 20' square, lit by a pair of sputtering, wall-mounted oil lamps. Fine wall frescoes depicting Greyhawk City, clouded by a thick layer of dust and grime, line the walls. The left (west) and right (east) walls each hold a door, with the left one slightly ajar. Straight ahead, opposite the entrance, sit a pair of rotting double doors. A crude dagger has been painted on the wall above the double doors in bright green paint.

“Well, it looks like we’re in the right place,” whispers Nico.

The two rogues set about examining the room. They find a single peephole on the east and west walls. Looking through them, it appears they lead to small rooms, each dimly lit by candlelight. Nico hears snoring through the eastern peephole. The double doors they find to be locked.

The group enters the western door, which leads to an L-shaped hallway with two doors on each side and one at the end. The door at the end has several pieces of furniture stacked before it, leading the party to conclude that it’s the exterior door across from the stables. The first door on the left leads to a barren 10'x10' room, lit by a single candle on the wall. Slumped in a chair is a dead human male in leather armor, a light crossbow across his lap. Verben examines the body.

“Well, he doesn’t have any wounds. His eyes are swollen shut and he appears to have died from dehydration. I’d wager it’s blinding sickness.”

“Is it contagious?” asks Nico.

“Not from contact,” the priest replies. “One usually catches it from drinking tainted water.”

“Good to know,” says Nico, taking the corpse’s crossbow, bolts, and pouch of 18 gold orbs.

Like the previous door, dim light is visible beneath the first door on the right side of the hall, but not the two other doors. Galena grabs the candle from the guard room, and the party moves to the second door on the left. Upon opening it, the party finds the room so choked with furniture and trash that they can only get the door open halfway. The group then decides to clear the furniture stacked against the door leading out to the stables, in case they need a secondary way out.

The group then moves to the door opposite the trash room, which is the second door on the right (north) side of the hall, and appears to lead to another unlit room. Upon opening that door, the party’s nostrils are assailed by the pungent odor of rotting food. Galena’s candle illuminates a large worktable holding spoiled meat and vegetables, all covered in flies. A cold fire pit sits in the corner, next to a heap of dirty pots and clay crocks.
“Ugh. This food’s pretty foul,” says Ricos. “It’s at least a week old.”

Preh does a quick search of the room, finding a box of six tindertwigs on a narrow shelf above the fire pit. The five then move to the final door, beneath which shows a narrow band of dim light.

The group enters a dining room, dominated by a long wooden table surrounded by six patchwork chairs. A few plates and moldy scraps of food litter the tabletop, a large green dagger painted crudely upon its surface. Preh discovers a concealed doorway on the northern wall, near the corner of the room. Entering the group finds a wide chamber, about 15' x 30', lit by mounted oil lamps. Three sets of bunk beds take up the left half of the room, while the right side holds a pair of practice dummies and straw targets. Moaning and thefoul odor of sickness emanates from the five people lying in the bunks.

“Fear not, we’ve brought a priest,” announces Nico, while Verben gives him the side-eye.

“But we’ve already seen a healer,” gasps one man. “He brought us a cure.”

Verben breaks out his healer’s kit and starts examining his charges.

“Help Stitch first,” the man says, pointing to a comatose man in the westernmost bunk.

“Galena, would you mind assisting me?” asks Verben.

“Sure,” she replies.

While Verben and Galena tend to the sick, Nico questions the first man, while Ricos and Preh look around.

“Who are you?” asks the man.

“We’re with the Guild,” replies Nico. “How many of you are sick?”

“Just us. Annar, too, but he’s on guard duty with Daylin.”

Figuring “Annar” was the dead guard they found, Nico sheepishly conceals the crossbow he took from the man’s corpse behind his back. He learns that the four conscious humans, two men and two women, are named Friana, Kaswen, Redigar, and the speaker, Marham, and that the leader of the Green Daggers is an elf named Cyrathas. They know nothing of Irontusk, Theldrat’s stolen key, or the theft at the Great Library.

Ricos examines the training area, finding nothing. Preh begins opening one of the three chests at the foot of the bunks, but decides against it. The young rogue also notices several empty clay vials and shows them to Verben.

“I assume this was the cure he was talking about,” says Preh.

Verben examines one of the vials, sniffing it and swiping the inside with a finger.

“If I had to guess,” says the priest, “I’d say this is nothing more than rose water.”

“So, the ‘cure’ is fake,” says Nico. “Will they live?”

“I think so,” Verben replies. “So long as they take it easy. I’m afraid Stitch, however, will never see again. He will have his life, at least.”

“Better in Greyhawk than another town,” adds Preh. “The Beggar’s Union can always make use of the afflicted.”

The five then return to the entry hall. Opening the eastern door, they find a straight hallway, nearly 25' long. A pair of double doors lie on the left (north) wall, two separate single doors on the (right) south wall, and a single door at the end. Dim light streams from below the double doors and the first door on the right.

Nico loads the crossbow formerly known as Annar’s and readies it while Ricos prepares to open the door. Ricos opens the door to another candle-lit guardroom, similar to the one in which Annar was found. This time, however, the guard (a half-elf in leather armor) is quite alive. As the door creaks open, the sleeping half-elf springs from his chair and draws his rapier. A startled Nico shoots a crossbow bolt deep into the guard’s shoulder. Nico drops the crossbow and draws his rapier while Rico draws his shortsword. The pair quickly engage the guard, wounding him again. The half-elven guard quickly drops his rapier and surrenders.

“Daylin, I presume?” asks Nico, remembering his conversation with Marham. The half-elf nods in the affirmative. Ricos and Nicos disarm Daylin, taking his rapier. Nico also confiscates a smokestick and an unidentified potion from him.

Noticing Daylin’s swollen eyes, Nico assumes the half-elf is also infected with blinding sickness.

“Come with me to sickbay,” says Nico. “We have a priest who can help you.” Nico and Verben then take Daylin to the green dagger barracks, where Verben ministers to the half-elf. The rogue and priest use the table in the dining room to barricade the secret door to the barracks, then return to their companions.

Preh, meanwhile, discovers that the second door on the right side of the western hall is trapped, but accidentally triggers the device while attempting to disable it. The young rogue lets out a loud curse when a spiked iron ball rolls from a chute in the ceiling and strikes him square on the head. Luckily, Verben soon returns and casts cure light wounds upon Preh.

Behind the door lies what appears to be the Green Dagger armory, consisting of weapon and armor racks and a long table with various supplies. A quick inventory of the room reveals 3 rapiers, 8 daggers, 2 light crossbows, 1 masterwork rapier, 1 masterwork longsword, 2 sets of thieves’ tools, 2 flasks of acid, 2 flasks of alchemist’s fire, 2 smokesticks, 2 bags of caltrops, and a 50' silk rope with a grappling hook. Nico trades his rapier for the masterwork rapier, and takes a smokestick and both sets of thieves’ tools. Preh takes the other smokestick two daggers, and both flasks of alchemist’s fire. Galena takes one flask of acid, while Ricos drops Daylin’s rapier and takes the masterwork longsword, the other flask of acid, both bags of caltrops, and the rope and grappling hook.

Moving to the door at the end of the hall, the group discovers no more than a smelly privy. They then ivestigate the double doors opposite the armory. Finding no traps, Preh crack open the unlocked door, seeing a 25' x 25' ballroom lit by oil lamps, with a pair of columns flanking a staircase leading up to a balcony, with a dusty chandelier hanging in the center. Nico urges the party to wait before entering, as he wants to see what’s behind the double doors in the entry hall before heading upstairs. Preh, Ricos, and Verben decide to wait there at the ballroom doors while Nico and Galena investigate the doors in the entry hall.

Knowing that Preh already looked for traps on the entry hall doors earlier, Nico finds it locked, so he pulls out his picks and springs the lock open. While the room beyond is dark, the entry hall wall lamps allow the two to see partially within. Two alcoves to the left and right just inside the doors each hold large stone statues of a portly merchant. An archway just beyond is shrouded in darkness, but the stench of wet fur and the low growls beyond give the pair pause. Suddenly, a large catlike beast with a skull-like face springs from the darkness.

“Close the doors!” yells Nico.

Galena holds the doors shut while Nico attempts to engage the lock, but to no avail. The pair are shoved back as the doors burst open and the beast reveals itself and lets out a bloodcurdling screech, unnerving the two. In the light, the beast doesn’t appear to be undead, as its facial skin is merely pulled back, revealing its skull and musculature beneath. The others come back into the entry hall to see Nico and Galena pressed hard by the beast. Luckily, the thing looks more fearsome than it actually is, and the five overcome it. The creature falls to the ground, where it lies limply, though still breathing.

“What is it?” asks Galena.

A krenshar, I think,” replies Ricos. “We should kill it.”

At first Galena protests, but the half-elven ranger convinces her that civilization is no place for such a dangerous creature, and slides his blade into its heart.

Beyond the arch, the group finds what must have once been a sitting room. Once fine furniture is piled in a broken heap on a soiled rug. Behind a faded tapestry, Preh finds a concealed door leading to the Green Dagger barracks.

“Looks like you missed something,” Preh comments, as Ricos scowls.

Opposite the door, a small, poorly-done painting of a foreign harbor hangs on the wall in a silver frame. Nico removes it from the wall, tears out the painting, and stashes the frame in his pack. The group returns to the ballroom doors. The group then leaves, but makes sure to relock the door, lest the sick thieves seek to come upon their rear.

The five enter the ballroom, and Preh and Nico move in opposite directions, searching along the west and east walls, respectively. A short flight of stairs opposite the doors leads to two smaller flights leading to the left and right onto a 5' wide railed balcony overseeing the room, where lie a second set of double doors immediately about the pair below. As Ricos and Galena approach the stairs, the chandelier crashes to the floor. Galena dodges to the side, but Ricos takes the falling fixture full force. Suddenly, a figure stands from a crouched position on the southeast corner of the balcony and fires a crossbow into Ricos’s chest. Luckily, it fails to pierce his chain shirt, but does knock him unconscious.

“Look out!” yells Galena, too late.
The attacker turns out to be a human female in black leather armor, about 5', 6" tall, with wavy brown hair tied back in a ponytail. Preh runs to the top of the western flight of stairs and flings his dagger at the woman, but misses his mark. She reloads and fires upon the young rogue, her bolt sinking deep into his shoulder as he slumps into unconsciousness.

Galena moves behind the railing of the first flight of stairs and lets loose with a sling bullet, but misses her mark. Nico rushes up the western flight of stairs, past the unconscious Preh, and loads his crossbow. Verben rushes to Ricos and casts cure light wounds, bringing the ranger back to the land of the living.

Nico fires his crossbow at the woman, but misses. He discards the weapon and draws his rapier. She fires her crossbow at Nico, misses, then drops it, hefting a large wooden shield and drawing a rapier of her own in anticipation of Nico’s approach. Galena flings another sling bullet at the woman, but she blocks it with her shield.

Revived, Ricos draws his newly-acquired longsword and bounds up the eastern flight, intending to approach the woman from the opposite side. Unfortunately, he finds the stairs to be booby-trapped, and they collapse under his weight as he falls to the ground, with only minor injuries.

Verben runs up the western stairs and casts cure light wounds upon Preh, reviving the young thief. Preh, back on his feet, draws his remaining dagger and chucks it at his adversary, but it bounces off her shield.

Nico charges the woman with his rapier, but she easily eludes his blows. She retaliates in kind, dealing him a minor wound. Galena bounds up the western stairs, running past Preh and Verben and coming up behind Nico.

Ricos, back on the ballroom floor, sheathes his blade, draws his bow, and shoots at the woman, but she blocks his arrow with her shield. Verben draw his mace and positions himself behind Galena.

Throwing caution to the wind, Preh charges down the western flight of stairs and leaps over the collapsed eastern flight, landing gracefully on the balcony and drawing his rapier. Nico again attempts to attack the woman, but misses. Luckily for Nico, she also misses.

Dropping her staff, Galena cartwheels across the corner of the balcony railing, landing on the woman’s other side. She aims a kick at the woman’s head, but is foiled by her shield. Ricos drops his bow and attempts to follow Preh’s example, but isn’t quite as successful. He does manage to grab the edge of the broken floor, however, and pull himself up behind Preh.

Verben steps up past Nico and swings his mace at the woman, but his blow is blocked by her shield. Preh runs forward, past Galena, and stabs with his rapier. Unfortunately, he miscalculates his aim, and his blade bounces off her shield and clatters to the balcony floor. Luckily, Galena pulls him back beyond the woman’s reach.

Nico slips past Verben and tries to hit the woman once more, but misses. She turns her blade on Galena, dealing a minor wound. Galena attempts a flurry of blows but her foe’s shieldwork is too skillful. Ricos draws his longsword and moves past Galena, but is unsuccessful in wounding the woman.

Verben touches Nico’s shoulder, “May the next blow you choose strike true,” he prays, casting a spell of guidance. Preh, tiring of the ordeal, reaches into his sidepouch and pulls out the tanglefoot bag he took from Irontusk the night before. The young rogue flings it at the woman, striking true, entangling her in a sticky alchemical mess. Though the woman puts up a good fight, she is eventually overcome by the party and surrenders.


Growfest 2, 594 CY

Preh and Nico leave Wainford on hoseback late that morning (about 10 am), arriving back in Greyhawk early that evening (about 6 pm). After returning the horses to Jogg the Titan (“Looks like they’ve been rode a little hard,” he grumbles) in the Slum Quarter, the two make their way to the Pit in the Foreign Quarter and pay Meg her 50 orbs. The pair then swing by The Green Dragon Inn [#1] in the River Quarter and ask Tirra about the Green Daggers. Though she’s never heard of them, she does tell them that the location marked on Irontusk’s map is an abandoned merchant house [#25]. She suggests they investigate, and learn the gang’s plans–if they seek to overthrow the Guild of Thieves, or if they’re trying to build a reputation as a possible precursor to membership.

Preh and Nico then make their way to the Blue Dragon Inn, where they find Galena and Ricos having a mug of the house ale, Witch Queen’s Cauldron. Sitting with them is Verben, the black-haired young priest of Pelor who healed their wounds the day before, though Fredricka is nowhere to be found.


Session played 08/04/2019: Jason and Ryan (Rachel and Shaun absent)

Dramatis Personae:
Galena, Lawful Neutral human female monk of the Twilight Monastery in the Cairn Hills, 3 days east of Greyhawk. Age 25, 5’7”, 120 lbs, auburn hair, green eyes. (Rachel, run by Jason)

Nico Bolas, Chaotic Neutral human male rogue of Greyhawk City, originally from the Wild Coast town of Fax. Age 28, 5’9”, 170 lbs, black hair, blue eyes. (Ryan)

Preh, Chaotic Neutral human male rogue of Greyhawk. Age 18, 5’5”, 135 lbs, red hair, green eyes. (Jason)

Toben Ricos, Chaotic Good half elf male ranger of the Bronzewood Lodge in the Cairn Hills, 3 days east of Greyhawk, originally from the nearby town of Diamond Lake. Age 30 (22 equiv), 5’8”, 150 lbs, brown hair, geen eyes. (Shaun, run by Ryan)

Fredricka the Fierce, Chaotic Neutral human female fighter of Greyhawk City. Age 19, 5’, 130 lbs, red hair, green eyes. (former PC of Emily, run as NPC by DM)

Growfest 1, 594 CY:

About 10 am, Fredricka, Galena, Nico, Preh, and Ricos leave the Temple of Pelor. After passing through the Garden Gate separating Greyhawk’s High and Garden quarters from the rest of the city, the five turn down Horseshoe Road into the River Quarter.

“I need to deliver a book to a place in the River Quarter called ‘Geld’s Maps,’” mentions Ricos. “Do any of you know where that is?”

“Yeah, it’s not far,” Preh replies. “I can show you.”

“What about the Dark Moon Monastery?” asks Galena. “I need to make a delivery of my own.”

“It’s off Cargo Street,” replies Preh. “We can stop there after Geld’s.”

“Umm. I’m not sure how long I’ll be,” says Galena.

“Me, either,” Ricos adds.

“Tell you what,” says Nico. “Why don’t we drop the kids off, then meet back at the Blue Dragon in an hour for lunch before we track down this ‘Irontusk?’ That way, Ricos and Galena can pay for another night at the inn if need be, and we won’t have to worry about finding food in the cesspool of Barge End.”

“Plus, it’s never good to confront half-orcs on an empty stomach!” adds Fredricka. “I’m kinda hungry now, so I’ll meet you guys there.”

The others agree, and say farewell to Fredricka, then to Ricos at Geld’s Maps. After turning onto Cargo Street, Preh points Galena up the path to the monastery, and he and Nico continue down the avenue.

As Galena treks up the path, Preh sees a familiar dark-haired elven woman outside the nearby Green Dragon Inn, who motions toward the door and enters. Preh follows.

“Where you going?” asks Nico.

“C’mon,” the younger rogue replies.

Nico follows him inside, where he sees Preh sit down at a table with an attractive elven brunette.

“I’ll get us some drinks,” he says, walking to the bar.

Preh and the elf are in deep conversation when Nico returns with three glasses of mead.

“Who’s your friend?” she asks Preh.

“Tirra, this is Nico. He’s a fellow traveler.”

“I work the Foreign Quarter,” Nico adds.

The elf raises an eyebrow. “Oh really? Who do you report to?” she asks.

“Meg.”

“And who’s her boss?”

“Mr. Furzear,” Nico responds.

“Ah. So you’re one of the Weasal’s, eh?”

Nico looks around cautiously before answering. “Yeah, but he doesn’t like that name.”

“The Weasel doesn’t like a lot of anything. Nasty piece of work, that one.”

Tirra continues, “Anyway, the reason I called Preh in here was to let him know someone’s hit the Great Library–not one of ours, naturally–there are . . . agreements in place. However, it could be the work of a minor gang with more balls than brains trying to impress us, in the hopes of making a bid for membership. Or it could just be an independent contractor. Regardless, the Watch is looking our way, so keep your eyes peeled and your ears to the ground if you hear anything.”

“What’d they take?” asks Preh.

“A valuable book of some sort. No idea which one. I’d wager it isn’t anything any of us would want to read in the first place.”

“When was it stolen?” asks Nico.

“Sometime before dawn,” Tirra replies. “A witness supposedly saw a cleric of Boccob leaving the library about that time, carrying a large book.”

“The god of magic?” asks Nico? “Is there any way we could talk to this witness?”

“But of course,” she smirks. “We’ve got him in protective custody right now, because you know the City Watch just loves working hand-in-hand with the Thieves’ Guild.”

“Good point,” Nico grumbles.

“He’s just wondering because we had a run-in with some ‘freelancers’ this morning,” adds Preh.

He and Nico then tell Tirra about the thugs at Theldrat’s, the locksmith’s missing key, and “Irontusk.”

“I’ve never heard of him, but if you say you’ve seen a half-orc with a metal-capped tusk up over at Barge End, Preh, that’s where I’d place my coin,” she says. “A missing key’s an odd thing for that merchant to get his smallclothes in a twist over, even if it is a family heirloom. More likely, it opens something important. Regardless, I’m not sure if a missing key and a missing book are related, but keep an eye out while you’re chasing down this ‘Irontusk’ fellow, and let me know if you find anything.”

The two rogues agree and bid Tirra goodbye. Back at the Blue Dragon Inn, the two reunite with Galena, Ricos, and Fredricka, where they have lunch and compare notes. The five leave the Blue Dragon about noon and make their way to Barge End, a tangled mess of wharves on the Selintan River, just northwest of the city walls, near Shacktown.

Barge End lies on the east bank of the Selintan, where the river makes an odd bulge to the northwest of the city walls. A tangled mess of shacks, warehouses. docks, boats, and barges, many of the later being tied to one another, forming a huge platform separated by gaps of river. The afternoon air is alive with the shouts of fishmongers, creaking wagons, and shrieking gulls. The eastern bank of the Selintan is so chock full of boats, from simple dinghies to the wide barges of the Rhennee river gypsies, that seeing any water without looking far from shore is nearly impossible.

After nearly an hour of searching and inquiries, a fisherman points out a six-foot half orc with olive skin, several scars, and a large iron-capped tusk, loading a boat several feet away. At that moment, a young halfling woman on a nearby fishing boat calls out a familiar name. “Irontusk!” she cries, before jumping onto the dock and attempting to run past the adventurers. The half-orc in question, meanwhile, immediately drops his burden and leaps from his boat onto another, attempting to navigate his way through the moored vessels.

Galena runs to the end of the dock and jumps from one moored barge to another, but is wounded by an arrow trap on the second barge.

Ricos laces his hands together and helps boost Preh up to the roof of a nearby warehouse, where the young rogue attempts to keep pace with the fleeing half-orc.

Nico sticks out his foot as the fleeing halfling passes by, then draws his rapier and holds her at swordpoint.

Fredricka, meanwhile, jumps on the halfling’s fishing boat, intent on jumping to the trapped barge. Instead, she slips on some fish guts and falls on her ass.

Preh jumps from the roof of the warehouse to another warehouse roof, as Irontusk leaps to a boat laden with piles of fishing nets. Galena jumps from the trapped barge to one laden with several crates of rotting fruit, and manages to hold back her nausea before crossing a dock to another barge, where a drunk fisherman sleeps.

Ricos follows Fredricka’s example to the letter, jumping on the halfling’s boat and falling down. Fredricka, meanwhile, manages to get her feet and tries jumping on the trapped barge Galena lept onto earlier, but misses her mark, plunging into the drink.

While his companions chase Irontusk, Nico interrogates the halfling. He learns her name is Solnia, and Irontusk regularly bullies her into keeping watch in case someone comes looking for him. Why anyone would come looking for him she doesn’t know, only figuring that he pisses people off on a regular basis. Nico also learns that the half-orc is most likely making for his personal boat, tied two docks away from the barge he was loading, and from there he might possibly make for Maravan, a village on the Western Road between Greyhawk and Dyvers, as Irontusk is said to have friends there.

Irontusk makes it to the dock near his boat, with Preh not far behind. The young rogue flings his dagger at the half-orc, but it barely grazes him and lands in the river. Irontusk jumps on a nearby barge and smashes a nearby lantern, putting a wall of flames between him and his pursuers.

A drunken sailor on the same barge as Galena takes a swing at her, but she sidesteps his blow and jumps across fifteen feet of water to another barge covered in slippery fish guts. She successfully keeps her footing, moving to a neighboring boat, where she startles a caged spider the size of a dog. The spider shoots her with its sticky webbing, but she is able to slip through it and move to the dock near the burning boat.

Ricos stands up and tries leaping to the trapped barge, but again mimics Fredricka’s success, falling into the river. Fredricka manages to climb onto the trapped barge, then avoids vomiting as she crosses the barge of rotten fruit. She makes it to the barge where she is attacked by the drunken sailor. He hits her, but she repays him in kind. Cowed, the drunk retreats to a far corner of the boat.

Irontusk jumps to a barge full of chickens, sending a cloud of feathers into the air. He then moves to a small dinghy and begins to untie it from its mooring. On the nearby dock, Galena loads her sling and smacks the half orc with a bullet. Preh tumbles through the flames onto the chicken barge, suffering some minor burns, then moves to the edge near Irontusk and draws his short sword.

Ricos climbs up on the trapped barge, makes his way past the one filled with rotting fruit, then onto the barge where Fredricka bested the drunken sailor. Fredricka gallantly tries to make the 15' jump to the fish-covered barge where Galena landed so gracefully, but plunges into the drink once more.

Preh stabs at Irontusk with his short sword, hitting him hard. The half-orc turns from his task, pulls his club from his belt, and hits Preh harder. The young rogue backs off, and Irontusk returns to untying his boat.

Fredricka pulls herself onto the fish-covered barge, then moves to the boat with the caged spider. The spider attempts to spray her with its web, but misses. She then moves to the dock and flings her dagger at Irontusk, but her blade instead plunges into the Selintan to keep Preh’s company.

Irontusk manages to untie his boat and begins rowing away. Galena manages to hit him with two more sling bullets. Ricos pulls himself out of the water and draws his bow, but can’t get a clear shot. Irontusk’s boat soon vanishes behind a line of moored barges.

Believing he’s learned all he can from Solnia, Nico lets the halfling go. He then catches up with Preh, Galena, and the river-soaked Ricos and Fredricka and tells them that the halfling said Irontusk was likely heading to Maravan. Chances are likely that Irontusk is on foot, and could be caught by mounted riders, but since no one can currently afford a horse, he plans to see if his contacts in the Guild can provide some.

While the others return to the Blue Dragon, Nico leads Preh to the Pit, a notorious fighting arena in the largest building in the Foreign Quarter, where they meet at a table in a relatively secluded corner with Meg, a tall, dark-haired woman with a hard, wiry frame dressed in black leather armor.

“Who’s this?” she asks.

“This is Preh,” says Nico. “He works the River Quarter.”

Meg raises an eyebrow. “For whom?”

“Tirra,” the younger rogue replies.

“She’s quite a charming little halfling, eh?”

“Uh, yeah. If you like halflings that look like elves, I guess.”

Meg grins. “Sit, children. I assume you’re here about the little incident at Theldrat’s this morning? Good work catching those amateurs.”

“Well, we think those guys were just scavengers,” replies Nico.

“Yeah,” add Preh. “They apparently got there after some half-orc named Irontusk had already broken in and stolen some valuable key.”

“A key, you say? That’s rather specific. Must fit an important lock for someone to go through all that.”

“That’s what Tirra said,” Preh replies.

“So, you find this ‘Irontusk’?”

“Yes, but he got away from us,” answers Nico. “We’ve a pretty good idea where he’s going, but he’s got a good head start on us. We were wondering if you knew someone who could lend us some horses?”

“Y’know it’s called the ‘Guild of Thieves’ for a reason, right, buttercup?”

“Well, sure,” replies Nico. “But we really didn’t want to spend time staking a place out and waiting for nightfall. We could strongarm someone, I suppose, but you know that’s not really my style.”

“Yeah, yeah–sweet Nico would rather use his silvered tongue than get his hands dirty. But if you want to use that tongue on me, boy, it’s gonna cost you 50 orbs or half of whatever Irontusk has, whichever is greater.”

“Sounds fair,” says Preh, grinning at his companion’s uncomfortableness with the innuendo.

“‘Course it does, boy. Never let it be said that Meg’s not a generous soul.” She grabs a quill and quickly writes a note on a sheet of paper, before handing it to them. “Two fast horses, for two slow boys,” she says. “Take this to Jogg the Titan down at the False Duke’s Stables. Now, scat!”

The two leave the Pitt, but not before Nico pays a young boy wearing the blue sash of the Union of Couriers and Messengers one copper common to deliver a message to Galena and Ricos at the Blue Dragon that the two of them will return in a day or so.

The pair make their way to the False Duke’s Stables in the Slum Quarter, where Nico hands the note to the owner, a surly half-orc named Jogg the Titan. “Two fast horses for two slow boys coming right up,” he says.

“Gods, don’t you just hate it when they can read?” Nico whispers.

Nico and Preh leave Greyhawk that afternoon, riding southwest on the River Road that follows the Selintan. Sometime after nightfall, after about 30 miles, they reach Ford Keep and the neighboring hamlet of Wainford. Inquiries turn up little on Irontusk, though earlier that evening someone did find an abandoned boat about a mile upstream. Figuring that must’ve been his boat, Nico and Preh decide to cross the river and follow the Western Road toward Maravan. Though Irontusk’s destination is at least another 45 miles west, the pair figure that he’d have to stop and rest sometime after all that rowing, especially with his wounds. The two continue west, their way lit by the nearly-full moon of aquamarine Celene and the waxing crescent of ghost-white Luna.
After an hour or so of riding, Preh spots the embers of a campfire in a copse of trees a few hundred feet from the road. After dismounting and securing their horses, the pair creep closer to investigate, seeing a large figure in fine studded leather on a bedroll by the dying embers. As they close in, the figure awakes to the sounds of their movement. As he stands in the dim light and grabs his club, the pair see that it’s Irontusk. “You!” he growls, upon recognizing Preh.

Irontusk fights fiercely, but stills bears some of the wounds inflicted by Preh and Galena hours before. After a few more sword thrusts from Preh and rapier pricks from Nico, the half-orc surrenders. The rogues interrogate the half-orc, but he’s unwilling to talk at first. He becomes more forthcoming when Nico points out that they’re miles from Greyhawk, and few would care to investigate the murder of a thieving half-orc this far from civilization. Irontusk relents, telling them that two days ago, he was hired to steal Theldrat’s key by a gang called “the Green Daggers.” He delivered the key to them shortly after stealing it that morning, and was paid 100 orbs for his work.

“Green Daggers? Never heard of ‘em,” says Preh.

“They hole up in an ol’ merchant house in th’ River Quarter. There’s a map in m’pack.” replies the half-orc.

Preh searches Irontusk’s belongings, finding a crude, hand-drawn map of Greyhawk, with an “X” marking a location at the end of a dead-end avenue in the River Quarter. He also finds a tanglefoot bag, a ragged fur cloak, a pair of empty clay vials smelling of almonds, and pouch of gold orbs.

“Only 79 here,” says Preh.

“Where’s the rest?” asks Nico.

“Lost gambling,” replies Irontusk.

“How many Green Daggers are there?” asks Preh.

“Only ever saw two of ‘em. One was human, looked real sick, though. Th’other was a rich-lookin’ elf. Both of ‘em had little green dagger pins on their cloaks.”

Worried that Irontusk may report back to the Green Daggers, Nico openly discusses killing him, but eventually relents when Irontusk begs for his life and promises to never return to Greyhawk. The two rogues take Irontusk’s gold, tanglefoot bag, and club. Preh makes him strip out of his masterwork studded leather and takes that as well. They leave him with his rations, camping gear, and ratty old cloak, and return to the hamlet of Wainford, using Irontusk’s gold to purchase lodgings for the night at The Drover’s Repose, a large coaching inn on the eastern bank.


First session begins here.

Dramatis Personae:

Galena, Lawful Neutral human female monk of the Twilight Monastery in the Cairn Hills, 3 days east of Greyhawk. Age 25, 5’7”, 120 lbs, auburn hair, green eyes. (Rachel)

Nico Bolas, Chaotic Neutral human male rogue of Greyhawk City, originally from the Wild Coast town of Fax. Age 28, 5’9”, 170 lbs, black hair, blue eyes. (Ryan)

Preh, Chaotic Neutral human male rogue of Greyhawk. Age 18, 5’5”, 135 lbs, red hair, green eyes. (Jason)

Toben Ricos, Chaotic Good half elf male ranger of the Bronzewood Lodge in the Cairn Hills, 3 days east of Greyhawk, originally from the nearby town of Diamond Lake. Age 30 (22 equiv), 5’8”, 150 lbs, brown hair, geen eyes. (Shaun)

Fredricka the Fierce, Chaotic Neutral human female fighter of Greyhawk City. Age 18, 5’, 130 lbs, red hair, green eyes. (former PC of Emily, run this session by Trish)

Growfest 1, 594 CY, early morning

A number of people are having an early breakfast at the Blue Dragon Inn, many wishing to get an early start on the week’s festivities. Galena and Ricos sit at a table together. Among the other lodgers are a few locals: Nico Bolas, a human rogue operating in the Foreign Quarter; Preh, a human rogue based in the neighboring River Quarter; and Fredricka the Fierce, a human (some would say half-dwarven) fighter and member of the Mercenaries’ Guild.

Across the square, Galena, Ricos, Nico, Preh, and Fredricka notice a disturbance through the foggy gloom of the spring dawn, catching sight of two thugs ransacking Theldrat’s Locksmithy. Preh and Nico both notice features on the door that mark it as protected by Greyhawk’s Guild of Thieves. Preh has seen Nico in the company of the halfling Simpkin Furzear, Master Thief of the Foreign Quarter, and signals to him. The two walk outside where they introduce themselves before moving outside the door of the locksmith shop.

“I can’t find the damn lockbox, Marek!”

“Well, keep looking, Flegon. It’s bound to be here somewhere!”

“I’m gonna get some keys made,” Nico whispers to Preh, before strolling into the shop.

“Hello, gentlemen. I need to get some keys made.”

“What? Get out!” replies one of the thugs, approaching the counter.

“I don’t think you understand. Mr Furzear needs his keys.”

“He said, leave!” growls the other ne’er-do-well, drawing his dagger.

Meanwhile, Galena, Ricos, and Fredricka have all exited the Blue Dragon, to better evaluate the situation inside the locksmith’s ship. Wishing to defuse the situation, Ricos fires an arrow through the window, shattering the glass. Startled, one of the thugs (Marek) attacks Nico, dealing him a slight would. He draws his rapier to defend himself.

Preh then enters the shop with his shortsword drawn, as the other thug (Flegon) approaches. The young rogue misses his mark, but is stabbed in the gut by his foe. Preh quickly exits the building. “Help my friend!” he cries to the spectators.

Flegon closes the door behind Preh, holding it fast. Fredricka rushes up and tries to break through, but to no avail. Meanwhile, Nico and Marek trade pinpricks with their weapons inside. Galena and Ricos climb through the broken window.

Fredricka finally manages to shove the door open, while Galena and Ricos both attack the thugs–Galena with her fists and Ricos with his shortsword. Both fail to land blows, however. As Marek and Nico wear each other down, Preh crawls through the window, and Fredricka faces Flegon. Her first assault misses, as she catches her greatsword in the ceiling’s rafters. Flegon, however, deals her two solid blows before she dislodges her sword and deals him a grevious blow, knocking him unconscious. Marek, bleeding from several wounds, drops his weapon and surrenders.

Nico manages to stabilize Flegon before his bleeds to death. The party finds a total of six sp on the thugs. The group begin questioning Marek, learning that someone called “Irontusk” told them the shop was already open and an easy mark for looting. Within moments, the shop’s owner, Theldrat, a portly, mustachioed, coppery-skinned man in his late forties, arrives, as do a pair of city Watchmen. The panicked locksmith immediately begins looking for something.

“My key is gone! Did any of you find a copper key with a double zig-zag pattern on the head?”

When neither Marek nor his captors admit to having no knowledge of the the key, Theldrat grows hysterical, claiming that it was a gift from his father. After some brief questioning and a cursory promise to keep an eye out for his key, the watchmen take the thugs into custody and leave.

“I know they will not bother, the lazy watch!” exclaims Theldrat. “I pay good protection money to make sure this does not happen! Please, you must help find my key!” addressing Nico, Galena, Preh, Ricos, and Fredricka.

After a short debate, the group agrees to help Theldrat, figuring this “Irontusk” Marek mentioned may know more. Preh mentions that he’s seen a half orc with a single metal-capped tusk frequenting Barge End, a run down section of the city docks near Shacktown outside the city walls. Before leaving, Nicos checks the lockbox where Theldrat kept the key, seeing that it was broken open. That, as well as the broken door, tells the party that the thief was a brute.

Though eager to begin the hunt for Irontusk, Preh, Nico, and Fredricka realize it would be more prudent to heal their wounds before begining the search. Remembering the young cleric who shared a coach to Greyhawk with her and Ricos, Galena suggests they seek out Verben Ranzoff at the Temple of Pelor. The party locates the temple in Greyhawk’s Garden Quarter, where they locate Verben, who magically heals their wounds, after a donation to help the orphans of Greyhawk, of course. Fredricka, Galena, Nico, Preh, and Ricos then bid Verben farewell.


Verben Ranzoff, male human cleric. PC from AoW campaign, which he joined during The Champion's Belt. Played here year prior to AoW as a DMPC, mainly b/c none of the players at the time wanted to play a spellcaster. Background written by player.

Background – Richfest 7, 595 CY

Verben was born on the Plain of Greyhawk, near the Cairn Hills, on Sunsebb 5, 575 CY. The son of a farmer, Verben nevertheless felt he needed to help people on a larger scale. He often traveled with his father to Greyhawk with the new harvest. While in the city he witnessed much hunger and greed, especially during the night.
One night before they were about to leave, a mugger assaulted him and his father. As the mugger stumbled forward, slaying his father, Verben was almost overcome by the rotten flesh and horrid stench of undeath that the mugger carried. Cowering in fear, Verben called to the gods for aid or guidance. At that moment a man dressed in gold and yellow priestly vestments stepped into the street, heading for a temple with the marker of a sun on its front. Verben called out to the man in aid for what happened to his father.
With that the older gentleman held aloft the symbol hanging from his chest. Verben felt a bolstering sense of physical presence and upon hearing a single utterance of the name of the god Pelor he watched his attacker dissolve into a pile of bones and rotten flesh. His father was gone and he was now alone at the young age of 12. The priests of the temple of Pelor took him in and saw to the care of his mother as well.
The sheer generosity and overwhelming sense of protection the temple seemed to generate was enough that at his young age he dedicated his life to following the teachings of Pelor and shedding light where none reached. Heeding his teachings he now follows the path to destroy undead where they may hide and help those in need.


Fredricka, female human fighter (PC played in previous campaign, used here as a guest PC or NPC). Background written by original player.

Fredricka the Fierce, as she likes to be called, was born about 18 years ago, though nobody knows exactly when, to a rather ugly whore in the city of Greyhawk. Theories given by her friends (at least when she cannot hear them) is that her father may have been a dwarf. This is brought about by the fact that she is rather short to be fully human, and sturdily built.

The third oldest living child, she spent her youth running around in some of the worst parts of the city, fighting with other children, and basically making a mess of herself. Since some of her friends ended up in the thieves guild, she became an unofficial basher for the young pickpockets. One fateful morning, she was revenging her youngest sister by kicking the shit out of two roughs who had taken more than their fair share of the loot from a pinch when a member of the mercenaries guild passed by. After he spent an amused moment or two watching the ungainly girl beat up on the older boys, he intervened on the boys behalf and told her to stop by the guild hall. As she was rather bored (for honestly a two on one fight was not really fair to the opponents anymore), she did so, and began her training as a fighter.

She did well in the guild, mostly due to her dogged determination and brute strength. While she did well with most anything with a blade, she excelled with the great sword, and people who laughed at the sight of a short woman with a big sword soon came to find that it only made her want to hurt them worse. She was never a smart girl, and her temper kept her from more delicate missions, so her jobs normally included guarding wagons rather than important people. Still, as long as she got to bash heads, she was happy.

Fredricka is short, broad, and almost as ugly as her mother. She has long red hair which she keeps in two messy braids, green eyes, a crooked nose, multiple scars, and broken teeth. She is pretty easy to get along with as long as she is not bored, and as long as you do not insult her or her family. You can normally find her either on a dangerous stint of guard duty where she is guaranteed to have some fun, or at one of the taverns near the docks, arm wrestling soldier, sailors, and other mercenaries over whose turn it is to buy the next round.


Toben Ricos, male half-elven ranger

Background – Growfest 1, 594 CY

You were born Reaping 18, 563 CY in Diamond Lake, a muddy smear of a mining town on the shores of a polluted lake of the same name, subject to the rule of the Free City of Greyhawk. The town is nestled in the Cairn Hills, a range of ancient hills located south of the massive Nyr Dyv, the Lake of Unknown Depths. The hills are named for the numerous ancient burial cairns that litter the landscape, the product of various cultures that have occupied the area over several millennia. Though most have been looted over the centuries, the area still attracts adventurers and tomb robbers to this day, many who launch their excursions from Diamond Lake.
Though a half-elf, you were raised in a human family–your parentage was a constant source of conflict between your mother and her abusive husband, who worked the mines and referred to you as that “half-breed bastard.” Your mother never told you who your father was, and may very well not have known his true identity herself. The only permanent elven male resident of Diamond Lake was Ellival Moonmeadow, a gray elven mine manager of noble blood from Celene, but he seemed to have no interest in consorting with humans–or even half-elves, for that matter. More likely, your father was just an elven traveler passing through town.
Growing up, you never felt fully accepted by your family–though you were provided food and shelter, you were always treated like an interloper. In 576 CY, a terrible epidemic known as the Red Death swept through the Flanaess, taking many lives. Your family was not spared, though you got sick, you survived. Your youngest sibling, however, did not, and from then on, a “it should have been you” seemed to emanate from the eyes of everyone in your family.
Things came to a head three years later, in 579 CY. Though you were sixteen years old, you aged much slower than your fully human siblings, being developmentally about twelve in human years. It seemed your stepfather wasn’t happing about spending any more time raising someone else’s bastard, and he ended up killing your mother in a drunken rage. Though your stepfather was hanged for his crime, your human siblings blamed you for all the trouble you brought on their house, so you fled into the wilderness.
Luckily, though you knew nothing about surviving in the wild, you were found by someone who did–a half-elven ranger named Tamris Quickthorn. Tamris left you in the care of the Bronzewood Lodge, a wilderness community three hours northeast of town, centered around a ring of crumbling menhirs on a bluff overlooking Diamond Lake. Led by an old priest of Obad-Hai named Nogweir, the Lodge accepted you without judgement, and many of the druids, rangers, and other wilderness folk taught you how to survive in the outdoors. Though many humans dwelt at the Lodge, the difficulties visited on you by your human family could never be forgotten, and you have remained guarded in your relations with all humans–even the friendly ones. Fortunately, a number of half-elves made their homes at the Lodge. One of your best friends is Daejin Moon, a female half-elven ranger about your age (you both would be considered about 22 years old in human years). Another half-elf you’re close to is Cimmerii Acanthus, a teenager the two of you see as a younger sister (she’d be about 14 if she were human). Unlike any other half elf you’ve seen, “Cim” is a half-drow (her mother was captured by slavers in the Pomarj years ago, one of which was her drow father), so you and Daejin have always done your best to look out for her when outsiders take issue with her heritage.
For the past few years, you’ve often served as a guide and game tracker for explorers and sport hunters (mostly boar and deer, but sometimes more exotic beasts, like owlbears) visiting the Cairn Hills. A few days ago, Nogweir, High Cleric of the Bronzewood Lodge, charged you with delivering a journal bearing the symbol of an eight-pointed star to Lazzarin Geld, a cartographer who runs Geld’s Maps in the Free City of Greyhawk, three days west by coach. The journal belonged to an old friend of Nogweir’s who recently passed, and among his last wishes were that the journal should be delivered to Geld. Though not excited about visiting the Free City, you are interested in checking out the Stonering outside the city walls, a set of menhirs said to dwarf those of the Lodge. Since the vernal equinox is soon approaching (Growfest 4th), there will almost certainly be a druidic moot held there as well, which you’d like to see. In addition, you’ve long heard tales of a Greyhawk nobleman who purchases exotic monsters for his menagerie, so perhaps you can find some work there.
To that end, you left the Lodge before dawn and made the trek to the Able Carter Coaching Inn at Diamond Lake where you booked passage on a coach leaving for Greyhawk that morning. The coach left Diamond Lake with yourself and three other passengers: a pair of dwarves bound for the mining town of Blackstone on business–Galuth Grobadore and his nephew, a colorfully-dressed bard named Hailleck; and a withdrawn, auburn-haired human woman named Galena. The coach reached Blackstone that evening, and you stayed overnight in the coaching house. The coach left Blackstone the following morning with yourself, Galena, and two new passengers: a young human priest of Pelor named Verben Ranzoff, who was being recalled the Greyhawk’s Temple of Pelor after a stint serving the faithful of Blackstone; and Toby, a six year-old Blackstone boy that Verben was escorting to Greyhawk’s City Orphanage, which is run by the church of Pelor. That night was spent at the Next Last Chance Inn, a hostelry on the edge of the Cairn Hills run by gnomes. By the next evening (Coldeven 28), the coach had reached the gates of the City of Greyhawk.
After waiting in line for an hour, the guards at the gate recorded your names, description, business in the city, and charged you and Galena a “Freesword Tax” of 3 gp each, which licenses you to do business as a sellsword within the city. In addition, you had to purchase licenses to carry your weapons in the city, as the only legal arms to carry without a license in Greyhawk are daggers, clubs, staves, and slings. Though you were not pleased to pay these fees, you expected them, as your coachmen, Ernst and Eluk, warned you in advance. Each license consists of a 2"x4" strip of tough leather, branded with the city seal, holder’s name, expiration date (3-28-595 in this case), and either a stylized coin pierced by a sword (Freesword license) or a stylized weapon of the appropriate type (longsword, bow, mace, greataxe, greatsword, battleaxe, etc). Each strip is pierced with a hole in one end so it may be threaded onto a piece of twine or a leather thong (also provided).
After entering the city via the Duke’s Gate (on the east side), the coach dropped off Verben and Toby at the grand Temple of Pelor in the Garden Quarter, then took the Processional (the central avenue running North-South that bisects the city) south through an interior gate (the Garden Gate–where the coachmen stopped and wrote everyone’s name on a roster–typical for passing through the city’s two internal gates). As this was the eve of Growfest, there were many visitors to the city, thus most inns were full. Luckily, the coachmen learned from runners that there was still space at the Blue Dragon Inn, a massive hostelry in the Foreign Quarter paneled in dark wood with elaborately carved trim, and decorated with military flags, shields, and weapons from across the Flanaess. The half-elven Perrenlander Gustin Longpike, found you and Galena separate rooms, and made sure you got a hot meal (meat, cheese, turnips, and a mug of the house ale, Witch Queen’s Cauldron) before bed. You intend to deliver the journal to the cartographer after breakfast the next day.


Nico Bolas, male human rogue

Background – Growfest 1, 594 CY

You were born Harvester 21, 565 CY in the town of Fax, an independent town (now in ruins) that once lay on the Wild Coast, several miles south of the Free City of Greyhawk. Your father worked for the Wild Coast Trading Syndicate as a scribe, and your mother was a homemaker. You may have ended up a scribe yourself, but your parents and siblings fell to the Red Death, a vicious plague that swept the Flanaess in 576. You ended up in the care of your uncle, a ne’er-do-well who was always working on one scheme or another. He often involved you in such schemes, and the two of you would often flee from town-to-town staying one step ahead of the law or people whom your uncle had cheated.
Three years later (579 CY), your uncle abandoned you in Greyhawk City, taking anything of value the two of you had accumulated. You suspect you were no longer useful to him, as a ten year old boy exerts a harder pull on the heartstrings than one who is fourteen. You eventually fell in with Greyhawk’s Guild of Thieves, where you honed the rudimentary skills imparted to you by your uncle.
Greyhawk’s Guild of Thieves is likely the most powerful criminal organization in the known world, as the guildmaster, Org Neshen, openly sits on Greyhawk’s Directing Oligarchy, as is a close friend of Lord Mayor Nerof Nasgal. Each portion of the city is overseen by a Master Thief who reports directly to the Guildmaster. You are currently assigned to Greyhawk’s Foreign Quarter, arguably the most cosmopolitan part of the city, inhabited mainly by new residents of the city, non-citizens, “demihumans” (mostly halflings, gnomes, and dwarves), and Bohemian-types.
Guild operations in the Foreign Quarter consist mainly of petty theft (pickpocketing), burglary, and cofidence scams, with a certain amount of blackmail and extortion in addition. The Guild also controls gambling operations at The Pit, a fighting ring in the Foreign Quarter for spectators whom prefer a seedier version of the Free City Arena.
The master Thief of the Foreign Quarter is Simpkin Furzear, an aged, raspy-voiced halfling with slick-backed black hair and beady eyes. This nasty, cigar-chomping piece of work strikes fear in his underlings, and bullies them incessantly. Those subordinates wishing to remain on his good side call him “Mister Furzear.” Any underling caught referring to him by his nickname, “the Weasel,” lives to regret it–assuming he lets them live at all.
Fortunately, you have few direct dealings with Furzear. Most of your orders are relayed to you by your direct superior, a tall woman with a hard, wiry frame named Meg. Lithe and stealthy as a shadow, she usually wears black leather armor and is skilled in the use of twin crossbows. She will often leave the city to go hunting, and you do your best to avoid Furzear during those times. Were you not so adverse to getting dirty, you perhaps would even ask to join her!
Today is the first day of Growfest, a seven-day festival centered on the vernal equinox, and the visitors are beginning to pour into the city. Most are from surrounding towns and cities within the Domain of Greyhawk (Hardby, Narwell, Safeton, Diamond Lake, Elmshire, etc) or the Free City of Dyvers to the west, but a few are from further afield. The main attractions during this week are Saint Cuthbert’s Day (Growfest 4th), in which the faithful of the God of Retribution march up the Processional for a celebration at their temple in the Garden Quarter; the Feast of Edoira, an interfaith celebration that same day hosted by the priesthoods of Pelor (the sun god) and Rao (god of peace); and the Desportium of Magick on the evening of the last day of Growfest (the 7th), in which teams of mages replicate an attack on Greyhawk’s Citadel 500 years before via elaborate phantasm and illusion spells. Another event of note that week is that many druids and forest folk of the region hold a moot at the Stonering outside the city walls, but such holds little interest for you.
Given the season, your first order of business this morning is take breakfast at the Blue Dragon Inn, a massive hostelry in the Foreign Quarter. The Inn is owned by Gustin Longpike, a half-elven Perrenlander who is also the guild master of the Ostler’s and Brewer’s Guild. The inn itself is paneled in dark wood with elaborately carved trim, and decorated with military flags, shields, and weapons from all over the Flanaess. There are sure to be plenty of easy marks here.


Galena, female human monk 1

Background – Growfest 1, 594 CY

You were born Reaping 10, 568 CY to a farming family living in the Cairn Hills, a range of ancient hills located south of the Nyr Dyv, the Lake of Unknown Depths. The hills are named for the numerous ancient burial cairns that litter the landscape, the product of various cultures that have occupied the area over several millennia. Though most have been looted over the centuries, the area still attracts adventurers and tomb robbers to this day. Though the cairns have always intrigued you, most of your early life was spent on your parent’s farm, which laid a few miles from a towering peak called the Griffin’s Roost, atop which sat a mysterious, three-towered edifice known as the Twilight Monastery. Devoted to an obscure philosophy of the Baklunish West, the cat-infested monastery was the home to some two score monks, who would send masked representatives to your family’s farmstead to purchase grain and vegetables at harvest time. Though the mysterious monks always fascinated you, you were always ushered into the house when they visited, forbidden from interacting with them.
In 576 CY, a terrible epidemic known as the Red Death swept through the Flanaess, taking many lives. The Cairn Hills were not spared, and you lost half your family members, including your mother, in its wake. Five years later, in 581 CY, tragedy once again visited your home, when an undead menace awoke from one of the cairns in the region and attacked your farm. With the help of your father, you managed to escape on your family’s only horse and fled to the Twilight Monastery, as he feared any neighboring farms would be unable to protect you. Upon your arrival, the monks took you in, while sending out a cadre of assassins to dispatch the undead. Upon their return, you were informed that the menace had been destroyed, but no one else at your farm survived.
You were allowed to remain at the monastery, where the order’s leader, Izenfen the Occluded, took a personal interest in you, though she proved to be a harsh taskmaster. You would later learn that she had lost her own daughter, Imonoth in 574 CY, when a band of greedy miners from the town of Diamond Lake (about two hours south of the monastery) attacked the monastery, seeking control of the Censer of Symetry, a massive astrological lens with magical predictive powers. Though Imonoth was much older than you when she died, the Mistress of the order seemed to view you as something of a surrogate daughter–though her emotions were rarely apparent.
You soon learned that the monastery was devoted to Xan Yae, the goddess of twilight, stealth, and shadows. Originating in the Baklunish West, she (and her servitor deity, the demigod Zuoken), are virtually unknown to the common people of this part of the world. Over the years, the monastery educated you and trained you in the ancient martial art of da’shon (“falling hail”). You have spent little time beyond Griffin’s Roost, only occasionally traveling with a senior monk to a farmstead to purchase grain, or to Diamond Lake to deliver a shipment of kalamanthis (a psychotropic plant used by the monks for ritual purposes, and by others for recreational purposes). Now, finally feeling that your training is complete, the Occluded Mistress has given you one final task: to deliver a scroll to the Dark Moon Monastery (a sister monastery devoted to Zuoken) in the Free City of Greyhawk, some three days west of Diamond Lake by coach. After that, you are expected to spend at least one year exploring the world before reporting back to the monastery.
A few days ago, you left the Twilight Monastery and walked two hours to Diamond Lake–a muddy smear of a mining town on the shores of the polluted lake it was named for. At the Able Carter Coaching Inn, you bought passage on the next coach headed to Greyhawk City, which would be leaving the next morning. Having no commitments for the remainder of the day, you booked a room at the coaching house, then went to Taggin’s General Store, where you purchased some “civilian” clothing, as the masked monks (da’shonin) of the Twilight Monastery tend to draw too much attention from curious people. After changing back in your room, you spent the rest of the day exploring the town–strolling through the Diamond Lake Boneyard, examining the ancient stone ring on the town’s outskirts, taking a meal at the Rusty Bucket, visiting the freak show at the Emporium (“Demon Boy” was your favorite), and playing a game of dragonchess at Lazare’s House before retiring for the evening.
The next morning, the coach left Diamond Lake with yourself and three other passengers: a pair of dwarves bound for the mining town of Blackstone on business–Galuth Grobadore and his nephew, a colorfully-dressed bard named Hailleck; and a dour half-elven ranger named Ricos. The coach reached Blackstone that evening, and you stayed overnight in the coaching house. The coach left Blackstone the following morning with yourself, Ricos, and two new passengers: a young priest of Pelor named Verben Ranzoff, who was being recalled to Greyhawk’s Temple of Pelor after a stint serving the faithful of Blackstone; and Toby, a six year-old Blackstone boy that Verben was escorting to Greyhawk’s City Orphanage, which is run by the church of Pelor. That night was spent at the Next Last Chance Inn, a hostelry on the edge of the Cairn Hills run by gnomes. By the next evening (Coldeven 28), the coach had reached the gates of the City of Greyhawk.
After waiting in line for an hour, the guards at the gate recorded your names, description, business in the city, and charged you and Ricos a “Freesword Tax” of 3 gp each, which licenses you to do business as a sellsword within the city. Ricos, in addition, had to purchase licenses to carry his swords in the city, as the only legal weapons to carry without a license in Greyhawk are daggers, clubs, staves, and slings. Though you were not pleased to pay these fees, you expected them, as your coachmen, Ernst and Eluk, warned you in advance. Each license consists of a 2"x4" strip of tough leather, branded with the city seal, holder’s name, expiration date (3-28-595 in this case), and either a stylized coin pierced by a sword (Freesword license) or a stylized weapon of the appropriate type (longsword, bow, mace, greataxe, greatsword, battleaxe, etc). Each strip is pierced with a hole in one end so it may be threaded onto a piece of twine or a leather thong (also provided).
After entering the city via the Duke’s Gate (on the east side), the coach dropped off Verben and Toby at the grand Temple of Pelor in the Garden Quarter, then took the Processional (the central avenue running North-South that bisects the city) south through an interior gate (the Garden Gate–where the coachmen stopped and wrote everyone’s name on a roster–typical for passing through the city’s two internal gates). As the first day of Growfest (the seven day festival celebrating the vernal equinox) was tomorrow, there were many visitors to the city, thus most inns were full. Luckily, the coachmen learned from runners that there was still space at the Blue Dragon Inn, a massive hostelry in the Foreign Quarter paneled in dark wood with elaborately carved trim, and decorated with military flags, shields, and weapons from all over the Flanaess. The half-elven Perrenlander Gustin Longpike, found you and Ricos separate rooms, and made sure you got a hot meal (meat, cheese, turnips, and a mug of the house ale, Witch Queen’s Cauldron) before bed. You intend to deliver Izenfen’s scroll to the Dark Moon Monastery at dawn.


Preh (pronounced "prey"), male human rogue

Background – Growfest 1, 594 CY

You were born Patchwall 16, 575 CY, or thereabouts–you’re really not sure, because that’s when you were found in your swaddling clothes on the steps of the Temple of Pelor in Greyhawk City. No one is sure who left you there–perhaps one, or both, of your parents died in the Red Death plague that swept the Flanaess that year, and whomever was left couldn’t care for you. The Pelorites soon turned you over to the City Orphanage, which they ran, anyway.
You were soon adopted by kindly middle-aged couple who could not have children. Life was good until Harvester 584 CY, when your adopted father, a city watch captain, was slain while on duty in Old City (the southern portion of Greyhawk). It was later revealed that the archmage Rary of the Circle of Eight went rogue and planned to slay several diplomats who had come to Greyhawk to sign the treaty ending the Greyhawk Wars. Luckily, his plot was uncovered just in time by three of his compatriots in the Circle, and a great magical battle ensued between Rary and his former allies–the archmages Bigby, Otiluke, and Tenser. In the end, Otiluke and Tenser lay dead. Severely wounded, Bigby was unable to pursue Rary, who escaped to the Bright Desert, where he rules to this day. Your father, unfortunately, died in the firefight. Three years later, in 587 CY, your bereaved mother took her own life.
After some time on the streets, you eventually fell in with Greyhawk’s Guild of Thieves. The Guild is likely the most powerful criminal organization in the known world, as the guildmaster, Org Neshen, openly sits on Greyhawk’s Directing Oligarchy, and is a close friend of Lord Mayor Nerof Gasgal. Each portion of the city is overseen by a Master Thief who reports directly to the Guildmaster. You are currently assigned to Greyhawk’s River Quarter. Located in the west-central portion of the city, close to the wharves outside the walls, the River Quarter is the roughest part of New City (ie, the part of the city north of the Black Wall separating Old City from New).
Guild operations in the River Quarter mostly involves pickpocketing, burglary, rolling drunks, protection rackets, cargo theft, and smuggling. The Master Thief of the River Quarter since 583 has been Merreck Purzell, whom you seldom see. Most of your assignments are relayed by your direct superior, an attractive dark-haired elven woman named Tirra. Though she is very much dedicated to the guild, Tirra quite often leaves the city to explore old cairns and other mysteries with her friends, among them Auric, a doughty fighter who won the Champion’s Games last year, and Khellek, a wizard who fought at Auric’s side last year, and owns a tower in the River Quarter where he sometimes sells magic scrolls.
Today is the first day of Growfest, a seven-day festival centered on the vernal equinox, and the visitors are beginning to pour into the city. Most are from surrounding towns and cities within the Domain of Greyhawk (Hardby, Narwell, Safeton, Diamond Lake, Elmshire, etc) or the Free City of Dyvers to the west, but a few are from further afield. The main attractions during this week are Saint Cuthbert’s Day (Growfest 4th), in which the faithful of the God of Retribution march up the Processional for a celebration at their temple in the Garden Quarter; the Feast of Edoira, an interfaith celebration that same day hosted by the priesthoods of Pelor (the sun god) and Rao (god of peace); and the Desportium of Magick on the evening of the last day of Growfest (the 7th), in which teams of mages replicate an attack on Greyhawk’s Citadel 500 years before via elaborate phantasm and illusion spells. Another event of note that week is that many druids and forest folk of the region hold a moot at the Stonering outside the city walls, but such holds little interest for you.
Having nothing planned for the day you decide to take breakfast at the Blue Dragon Inn, a massive hostelry in the nearby Foreign Quarter. The Inn is owned by Gustin Longpike, a half-elven Perrenlander who is also the guild master of the Ostler’s and Brewer’s Guild. The inn itself is paneled in dark wood with elaborately carved trim, and decorated with military flags, shields, and weapons from all over the Flanaess. There are also sure to be plenty of folks new to the city here that may need to be unburdened by the weight of their gold.


Hey all,

I've been absent from these forums for some time, but thought it might be a good place to share some of the exploits of my latest gaming group. We started this campaign in 2019, with 1st level characters, though I've been running other groups through the same campaign world for a long time (see this thread for a previous campaign in the same world: https://paizo.com/threads/rzs2h443?Bastard-Greyhawk-The-Age-of-Worms)

The characters are 1st level, the edition is D&D 3.5, the setting is Greyhawk, and the year is 594 CY.

I will start with character introductions:


LeapingShark wrote:

Why is his face blank and featureless? Why is he a skinny toothless albino?

Considering the dungeon is full of other freaks, why does he wear this mask?

Where did he come from? Did he ever have a name? Who is the man behind the mask?

Anybody come up with an interesting backstory?

If you check out the Monster Manual V (2007), there's something called a "god-blooded" template. The Vecna example sounds a LOT like TFO.


Riddle me this:

Your group has been playing through a series of published adventures. Halfway through the series, one player admits he has been "reading ahead."

I personally think this is cheating. Even if a player is only curious and tries his best not to use the knowledge he's gained, it's impossible to completely separate player knowledge from character knowledge. Furthermore, it sends a bad message to one's fellow players, and makes one appear untrustworthy.

Does anyone consider such behavior to not be cheating? If so, why?


Greg A. Vaughan wrote:
It is indeed rhymed with cow there as it is written phonetically as "drow" rather than "dro" or "droe"

So we've been pronouncing "crow" wrong all this time? :)


Zanderias wrote:
Anyone know the story behind Tigran Gellner moving to the Militia and Sir Gavin Ambus's promotion from guildmaster of the Nightwatchmen?

Tigran Gellner has been part of Greyhawk's militia at least since 582 CY, when he appeared in the City of Greyhawk boxed set as cCommander of the Cairn Hills Force. With the death of Sental Nurev in 583, Gellner was promoted to Captain-General of the Watch, the highest military rank in the Domain of Greyhawk, which seems to automatically guarentee a chair on the Directing Oligarchy.

Ambus really didn't get "promoted," seeing as the Guild of Nightwatchmen is a private organization. The Chief Constable is second-in-command to the Captain-General; however, whereas the C-G oversees the military forces of the entire Domain, the sources imply that the Chief Constable's power and responsibilities lie chiefly within the City of Greyhawk itself. The Chief Constable seems to be another office that automatically gains a Director's chair.

Of course, since the sources state that a director who leaves office need not be replaced, granting a chair to the occupants of certain offices is likely due to the fact that it's always a wise choice to have the heads of the watch & military involved in the decision-making process.


Zanderias wrote:
A post on Canonfire led me to "The Directing Oligarchs of Greyhawk" - http://www.wizards.com/default.asp?x=lg/lgpg/20080418a - which answers most of my questions :)

There's also http://www.canonfire.com/wiki/index.php?title=Directing_Oligarchy . Keep in mind that this article & the one above concern the Directing Oligarchy circa 598 CY.

In 595 CY, when AoW begins (and assumed to end in 596 CY), the Directing Oligarchy consists of the following:

Lord Mayor Nerof Gasgal
Carmen Halmaster
Dernan Nathane
Glodreddi Bakkanin
Kieren Jalucian
Org Nenshen
Ravel Dasinder
Stakaster Villaine
Vesper Lafanel
Cariel Mansharn
Tigran Gellner
Torrentz Hebvard
Gerda Hollardel
Stimtrin Cannasay
Etin Derecs (replaced sometime the following year by Sir Gavin Ambus)
Jerome Kasinkaia, priest of Rao (retires sometime in 596)
Sir Anton Palmirian
Eritai Kaan-Ipzirel


Unfortunately, I forgot to use the following team:

A human paladin in gold chainmail, his coat of arms bearing a symbol resembling an arrowhead.
A half-elf wizard/psionicist/bard with a lyre.
A human cleric in blue robes.
A human fighter wielding a claymore & wearing a kilt.
A female drow bard with ranks in Perform (singing).
A youthful human diviner in yellow robes.
A shirtless, human rogue with a rapier.
A red-skinned goblin with 1 hp.


The Snorting Tip-sniffer wrote:
Did the 'dwarf barbarian' have a cohort? A teenage girl in a yellow coat, casting dancing lights and colour spray?

No, but the team did also include a one-eyed evoker who summoned an ice paraelemental, an avariel, and a half-fiend/half-drow who smelled of brimstone.

That team was Final Phoenix. There was another strangely familiar team was well, consisting of:

An assimar paladin in blue chainmail, with a winged helm & round shield with a star device.
A half-celestial Suel barbarian with a long red cape, winged helm, & wielding a powerful magic warhammer.
A tiefling sorceress clad in red.
And elven ranger clad in violet & blue, using a variety of magic arrows, with a black panther animal companion.
A strange humanoid in full plate who uses winged boots & a ring of the ram.
A female halfling wizard, who harries her opponents by using reduce person & fly on herself, then several magic missles.
A massive half-ogre fighter on whom the halfling often casts enlarge person.


I had one group that included a dwarf barbarian wielding twin punch daggers, a drow druidess specializing in weather spells, a female, red-haired human psionicist, & an iron golem.


Kirth Gersen wrote:
EDIT: Heh. Mr. Gygax's endorsements lost much of their credibility when I read the unarmed combat rules in the AD&D Dungeon Master's Guide, in which you were vastly better off "pummeling" with a quarterstaff than striking with it -- to the point where every character wanted to abandon their swords, and switch them out for staves to pummel with, until we all cried "foul!" and discontinued using those rules.

See Dragon #67, p. 66: "Speaking of tables and charts, I do

have one severe problem with my own game system. I got talked into doing the complicated and time-consuming series for grappling, pummeling, and overbearing in a weak moment. I have regretted them ever since. I tend to use a very simple system which we initially developed
for such close-quarters combat in about 1974." --EGG


Jeremy Mac Donald wrote:
I'm sceptical that THE MAN himself ever actually endorsed the model though he may have mentioned it in passing. If he had, you know, gone on the record as saying its better, I think a lot more of us would have used it.

See Gygax's "From the Sorcerer's Scroll" in Dragon #69 & Frank Mentzer's "Falling Damage" article in #70.


Kirth Gersen wrote:
Mothman wrote:
Was this a standard rule in an earlier edition? Some of the guys I play with (who've been playing longer than I have) use this rule, but I'm not sure where it came from.
I seem to recall that Gygax mentioned in Dragon that he'd originally intended it that way, but the rules were edited and published without the clarification, reading "1d6 per 10 feet" without his added "cumulative". Or I might be misremembering. Anyway, it was in Dragon back around the time that Def Leppard was recording their first album -- too far back for me to remember clearly, but the rule stuck with us.

That is correct--I've been using that rule for years. The article still capped falling damage at 20d6, however.


pres man wrote:
Rob Bastard wrote:
I think my point about AOO's what you're addressing here, and yes, reach weapons do "do that." My point about more chances to dish out AOO's refers to the number of squares threatened: 8 for "normal" melee weapons vs 16 for reach weapons. Not to mention anyone who wants to close & attack the pole fighter from an adjacent square will have to leave one of those 16 threatened squares (unless they're taking a 5' step, of course).
Except it doesn't cover any more angles than a regular weapon. And as you point out, only 8 opponents can get adjacent to you with regular weapons, which means that at most you are going to have 8 opponents moving in on you (assuming they were equally divided around you). Yes a reach weapon allows you the chance to get an AoO as they come in, the first time.

You're assuming that every opponent will go for the pole fighter. Those 8 extra squares can also be passed through by an opponent going for an ally. And in regard to your last sentence--yes, the first time, which is one more than those with shorter weapons get.


pres man wrote:
Don't get me wrong, there are certainly advantages to reach weapons. But they are not so overpowered that they need to be gimped. Making it impossible to carry them and use a bow is just needless gimpage, which adds nothing to the fun of the game and just makes unusual weapon choices less likely. . . .

As I said before, disallowing a PC to stash a weapon twice his size on his back only unbalances the most fragile of games. And in my experience, few PCs regularly alternate between melee and ranged weapons, especially if they're able to move in on hard to reach opponents via flight.

pres man wrote:
[rant]No ruling by a DM is too terrible if the players have time to adjust to it or decide not to play. But rulings where DMs just pull stuff out of the rear . . .

I don't think using real-world references is "pulling something out of one's rear." Most reasonable people would agree that it's silly to think that someone could sheathe a pole weapon across his back without some sort of magical aid.

pres man wrote:
and then screw up the player's character concepts, the only thing in the entire game world they actually have control over, that is just bad DMing. I don't really personally care if a DM wants to make impossible to use a reach weapon in anything other than large formations of NPCs. I just hate to see bad DMing, because it just makes it that much harder to get those players to try again later.[/rant]

Allowing players to ignore common sense in order to game the system is bad DMing. What's next? They want to hold a sword by its blade so they can do bludgeoning damage?


pres man wrote:


Rob Bastard wrote:
& more chances for you to dish out AOO's more than makes up for an average of 4-8 points less damage per round for a character with a high BAB.
Except reach weapons don't do that. At best it allows an AoO once as they pass through it. But then when they are 5 ft away it is no different than any other weapon, except you have to keep taking 5 ft steps to use it (which they can then take a 5 ft step to close the gap again). I do hope you made this ruling clear before the player invested any money into a reach weapon. "Sorry you have to toss your +3 ghost touch flaming glaive if you ever want to do anything with more than one hand, like use a non-throwing ranged weapon."

I think my point about AOO's what you're addressing here, and yes, reach weapons do "do that." My point about more chances to dish out AOO's refers to the number of squares threatened: 8 for "normal" melee weapons vs 16 for reach weapons. Not to mention anyone who wants to close & attack the pole fighter from an adjacent square will have to leave one of those 16 threatened squares (unless they're taking a 5' step, of course).


Fake Healer wrote:
. . . like making up that the bows in my comparison must of been shot in a straight line . . .

I didn't make that up. See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sling_(weapon)#Combat and http://www.lloydianaspects.co.uk/weapons/sling.html

The later website makes the claim about the greater skill needed to effectively use a sling in combat.


Fake Healer wrote:
Oh goody, one of those 'let me pick you apart, point by point'...

Yawn.

Fake Healer wrote:

In regards to the nutrition part of your post.....

From the SRD-
STARVATION AND THIRST
Characters might find themselves without food or water and with no means to obtain them. In normal climates, Medium characters need at least a gallon of fluids and about a pound of decent food per day to avoid starvation. (Small characters need half as much.) In very hot climates, characters need two or three times as much water to avoid dehydration. . . . .

Very good junior--you can copy & paste! Obviously you didn't understand my point. The SRD does not address proper nutrition--the above only addresses starvation & thirst. Please note that "decent food" is not defined, and shoe leather & tree bark could very well prevent starvation, but wouldn't be very nutritious.

Fake Healer wrote:
. . . A reach weapon does less damage to balance out the reach aspect of the weapon.

Considering the damage varies by only 1-2 points on average, I would argue that keeping your opponent an extra square away, fewer AOO's directed your way, & more chances for you to dish out AOO's more than makes up for an average of 4-8 points less damage per round for a character with a high BAB.

Fake Healer wrote:
If you make so that the weapon doesn't follow the rules laid out for weapons then you are making that weapon less usable, whether you personally wish to admit it or not.

No, I'm ruling on the side of common sense rather than slavish devotion to the rules. As someone pointed out on another thread, the RAW indicate that your average farmer (Commoner 1) would not be able to identify a cow, wolf, skunk, or other animals using Knowledge (Nature). I'm sure you'd houserule on the side of common sense on that one, wouldn't you?

Fake Healer wrote:
A weapon that must be tossed down in order to use a ranged weapon, or that takes longer to stow than normal would be given an increased benefit to be balanced against the other weapons.

All melee weapons must be tossed down in order to use a ranged weapon in the same round. The vast majority of players I know would prefer to make one move-equivalent and an attack rather than 2 move-equivalents. And as I pointed out before, always having a weapon in hand will usually be more beneficial than not being able to sheathe it. Imagine how stupid it would be if a troupe of glaive-wielding caravan guards suprised by a goblin ambush had to waste an action drawing their glaives.

Fake Healer wrote:
You can choose to ignore that and shrug it off as an inconsequential difference if you wish but there is a balance change in doing so.

You must run a fragile game if weapon-sheathing issues are going to unbalance it.

Fake Healer wrote:
On the plate thing, yes I am sure the guy could do better without, however plate in D&D says that everyone has an effective 12(or less) dexterity while wearing it, whether they have a 16 or a 26 to start with. . . . .

It says nothing of the sort--it just limits the dexterity bonus to AC. Just to prove I can also quote the SRD:

"Heavier armors limit mobility, reducing the wearer&#8217;s ability to dodge blows. This restriction doesn&#8217;t affect any other Dexterity-related abilities."

Fake Healer wrote:

A Quote from the site "For comparison, the current World Flight record for a "historically accurate" English longbow and horn/sinew composite bow is 306m and 566m respectively. It should be noted, however, that these ranges were achieved using light-weight flight arrows designed for range, and not for combat."

Jerzy Gasperowicz in 2006 used a Bipointed lead shot with a sling and threw sidearm to a distance of 505m.

Looking over that site and a few others, the distance advantage seems to be chiefly due to bows being shot in a straight line while slings used a high arc of trajectory. Therefore, I would assume that the sling's range increment is smaller because of the greater difficulty in aiming along a high arc.


Fake Healer wrote:

... Doesn't say anything there about polearms following different rules.

... Nothing here about different rules for Polearms either.

... Nothing in the weapon description either.

The rules also don't cover proper nutrition. If one of your players decides that his character will subsist a diet of tree bark and shoe leather, I suppose you'd be okay with it? Common sense should prevail over slavish devotion to the rules.

Fake Healer wrote:
If you decide to make the weapon more cumbersome with houseruled restrictions you need to keep in mind that the weapon is no longer balanced against the un-restricted weapons.

I seriously doubt refusing to allow a polearm to be slung across ones back is going to unbalance the game. In fact, always having the weapon at ready could likely provide an advantage--he has his weapon in hand while everyone else has to take a move action to draw.

Fake Healer wrote:
... Slings have a higher distance record in real life than a longbow and can blast through a sheet of 3/4" plywood with ease leaving a 3-4" round hole.

Source, please.

Fake Healer wrote:

If you go for realism you are gonna end up with everyone trying to inject their own personal ideals for realistic options.

People claim that they can do cartwheels and back hand springs in platemail in real life and I saw a video of it once. So do we change the maximum dex bonus for Plate? If you do you start messing with the game mechanics and balance.

No, because the same guy you saw in the video could likely do it better without the platemail. That's why the armor check penalty applies to skills like Tumble.

A friend of mine once said "there's suspension of disbelief and then there's suspension of disbelief." I can, for example, accept the fact that Superman can fly; but I can't buy him reversing the Earth's rotation to go back in time.


Seldriss wrote:
creating a double D symbol

Then everyone's gonna think they're strippers.


Ixancoatl wrote:
Rob Bastard wrote:


As an aside, could you refer me to a reputable source on polearm lengths? I write up detailed descriptions on the appearance of all my player's major magic items, & wasn't able to find anything online about guisarme lengths--thus, I assumed a 10' haft (with 2' blade) was appropriate for reach purposes.
Heck, there were tons of these types of things during 1e. Some old Dragon mags had articles on polearms. THe 1e Unearthed Arcana had a section on them. If I was nearly my old Dragons at the moment, I cold tell you where to look. I'll see what I can pull up.

Yes, I have "The Nomenclature of Polearms" (in an issue of Dragon, & reprinted in "Best of Dragon" & UA) but I think it mainly talked about the uses and head shapes of the various polearms, not actual length.


Jeremy Mac Donald wrote:
I have no idea what the OPs situation is like but I'd not be too sympathetic until after he explains that his players are doing this all for the role playing opportunities.

The player is actually pretty new to D&D. He was sold on the character concept by a fellow player who plays in several other games, and from what I know and have heard about his other groups, they tend to focus heavily on using & trying out new rules. I was fine with letting the new player play a pole-wielding scout with a level of ranger (for the martial weapon proficiency, of course), & even helped him develop a backstory to explain why he'd use a pole in the first place, but I sure as hell wasn't going to allow any "I'm carrying it on my back" shenanigans.


The Black Bard wrote:
I'm playing a glaive wielding cleric in a Pathfinder game, and I basically just always walk around with my polearm "drawn". One might say that holding the polearm in one hand, either over the shoulder, or just next to the body, and then switching to a "combat" stance, could equate the move action for drawing,

IMO, if the polearm is in your hand, it's drawn--I wouldn't make you take a move action to assume a "combat stance."


SmiloDan wrote:
I once had a DM who almost didn't let my elf carry a longbow in one hand and a longsword in the other. He said I needed 2 hands to carry a longbow.

Two hands to use it, but only one to carry it.

SmiloDan wrote:
He made a lot of ridiculous rulings, like Fire Resistance doesn't apply to heat or hot weather.

It does apply. However, I would not let fire resistance protect someone from suffocation, such as spending several minutes in a burning building or submerged in molten lava.

SmiloDan wrote:
That said, why is it such a big deal to let a PC stow his weapon like every other weapon? If they had rules to make polearms more difficult to use, then no one would use them, and everyone would use either a greatsword or greataxe. Boring.

Then why not let PCs use polearms in close combat, "like every other weapon"? If I wanted to store a weapon twice my size on my back, I'd play Final Fantasy. And in case you haven't noticed, 3x is pretty much set up to give melee fighters using greatswords & greataxes the advantage, ala Power Attack.


Doug Sundseth wrote:


2) Polearms other than spears or pikes were commonly about 6-8' long, not 12' long. A 12' long polearm is almost impossible to use other than as a thrusting weapon.

Even so, no one 5' tall will be carrying a 6-8' weapon on his back.

The length is based on the guisarme being a reach slashing weapon--considering that at least 2-3' of the haft will be taken up by hand space, it's hard to justify a reach weapon being 6'-8' long using the 5' spacing rules.

As an aside, could you refer me to a reputable source on polearm lengths? I write up detailed descriptions on the appearance of all my player's major magic items, & wasn't able to find anything online about guisarme lengths--thus, I assumed a 10' haft (with 2' blade) was appropriate for reach purposes.

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