In the Cairn Hills north of the Free City stands a monument to madness, a crumbling palace of trap-laden halls packed with treasure beyond imagining: Castle Greyhawk. The archmage who built it vanished nearly two hundred years ago, and the castle has beckoned adventurers from around the world ever since. They come seeking the wizard's treasure and legendary lore, to explore demiplanes attached to the castle's deepest dungeons, and perhaps to follow in the footsteps of the Mad Archmage Zagig Yragerne.
For when Zagig departed Castle Greyhawk, he did so as a living god.
A group of adventurers headed for Greyhawk encountered an orc raiding party looting a pair of overturned merchant wagons a short ways south of the city. After killing the evil humanoid bandits, they soon found that one of the few survivors of the raid was none other than Ricard Damaris, proprietor of the notorious Green Dragon Inn, a popular Greyhawk tavern and hostelry. Grateful for his rescue, Ricard offers the heroes free lodging at his inn for a full month – a boon indeed as they party soon learns that finding an open room anywhere in Greyhawk is nigh impossible, unless one is willing to pay exorbitantly. The reason for this is that the faithful of Boccob and St. Cuthbert have been flocking to the city named the Jewel of the Flanaess in the thousands, in order to pay their respects to the great Riggby, whose body is even now being transported to Greyhawk from Verbobonc where the famous cleric - often linked to the wizards Mordenkainen, Bigby, Tenser and others of the Circle of Eight itself - is to lie in state at the city’s temple dedicated to Boccob. The exploits of Riggby and of the Circle of Eight are legendary, linked to such notorious and evil villains as Vecna, Iuz and helping to bring about the end of the Greyhawk Wars that shook the lands of the entire Flanaess from one end to the other over a span of two long years.
But the wake for Riggby’s death and the celebration of his incredible life is still weeks away as the procession makes its way across the hundreds of leagues between the two cities. For the moment, the adventurers take advantage of Ricard’s offer, and learn that the likeable owner of the Green Dragon Inn has lost his beloved heirloom to the orc bandits that fled the wreckage of the caravan before the adventurers’ arrival. Offering ‘free drinks for life’ and more to the heroes if they return his sword ‘Blade of Chaos’ to him, the adventurers made preparation to track the orc bandits to their hideout. Soon after, they were approached as well by an agent of the Merchant and Trader’s Union, a well-dressed man named Unthias, who informed the heroes that other caravans had been hit as well – eight all together, over a span of five weeks. The impeccable timing and selection of targets have indicated that the raiders might have access to privileged information and offers a reward of five thousand gold if the heroes are able to return the stolen goods to the guild house in the Thieves’ Quarter as well as provide any further information on the bandits that they are able to uncover.
After tracking the orc bandits to the ruins of Castle Greyhawk, a place of legend filled with tales of fabulous monsters, traps and treasures that have lured untold numbers of adventurers into its depths over a span of more than two hundred years. Three ruined towers remain above the surface, and the tracks of the bandits led to eastern-most structure, which was warded by a group of well-organized and well-armed dwarves that demanded a tithe of whatever they recovered beneath the ruined tower before allowing them to trespass upon their jurisdiction. After harsh words were exchanged, the dwarves backed down from an actual confrontation, telling them that without their assistance, they would surely die before delving beneath the tower. The heroes soon learned that the undead guardians within were formidable indeed, though in what manner the dwarves knew how to circumvent the threat remained unknown to them, and after the battle they descended into the ruins of Castle Greyhawk itself. Through a secret door they located on a landing some one hundred feet or more below the surface, the adventurers found the hideout of the bandits and defeated several groups of orcs, as well as giants, traps and a dangerous half-orc blackguard named Atolamyr as well as his tiefling assistant. Notes found in his office indicate that the raids on local caravans increased in frequency just over three months ago and based on the inventory lists there are many more goods than could not possibly have been stored in the areas they’ve seen thus far - being far too large a quantity. The group did manage to locate a moderately sized cache of what they suspected to be part of the stolen cargo shipments, as well as a prisoner, apparently a priest of Boccob that had been forced to wear a magical cloak that had turned him into little more than a human vegetable.
Returning to Greyhawk, the priest is returned to the temple, where they learn the man’s name is Altamaic, and the clerics thank the heroes profusely for returning their lost brother to them. They also visit the guild hall and return the goods they’d located, finding that it represents but a small potion of the stolen goods taken. Still, the information and the returned goods are enough for the adventurers to receive part of the promised reward, and they are given a thousand gold orbs for their efforts, with a promise of the remaining four thousand when the rest has been recovered. Word of their exploits leak out (mostly through the lips of the garrulous Ricard Damaris), and though some of the adventurers head off in search of adventure elsewhere, others join those that would return to the ruined tower in search of the remaining stolen goods and Ricard’s lost sword. The adventurers also receive word from a messenger of Boccob’s temple that Altamaic has made a full recovery and wishes to thank his rescuers personally – as well as give them some information they might find very interesting…
History of Expedition to the Ruins of Castle Greyhawk
Note that this portion of the adventure was played on the d20 World of Greyhawk board, spanning a period of 2 years. Since that time, the ownership of board underwent a big change from Yuku to Tapatalk, which disrupted a great many things - including board layout and coding. Apologies for the difficulty in reading a good deal of the story due to font color, broken codes, etc.
A tall blond haired suel man walks into the Green Dragon Inn wearing finely made full plate, a silver sun symbol hangs around his neck with the same symbol on his wooden shield. His silver heavy mace hanging on his hip has a distinct glow of magic coming from it.
Smiling as he enters the Green Dragon Inn, Verdan looks around trying to pick out the hero's that saved his long time friend Altamaic.
The inn is quite busy tonight. Lets see Altamaic and the Boccob clerics gave me a description, but in here that could be one of three groups.
Seeing the barkeep, Verdan walks over to him.
"Greetings good sir, I am looking for a group that helped a priest of Boccob from Castle Grawhawk, I was told they were staying here?
After hearing the story from the barkeep and gets pointed to where the hero's are. Verdan gets 3 gold coins out and hands them to the barkeep
They don't pay for their drinks or food tonight, if you require more just let me know, I am Verdan Kase and the priest at the temple of Boccob know how to contact me."
With that Verdan walks over to the table that he was shown and waits until the group notices him.
"Greetings, I am Verdan Kase and I understand that you all saved a old friend of mine, a priest named Altamaic. I want to personally thank each of you for saving his life. And as a token of my thanks I told the barkeep that your coin is not good here tonight and that I would cover all the expenses. Also Altamaic is recovering nicely and has asked for all of you to come and see him in the morning at the temple of Boccob. Altamaic says that he has information that will be quite useful to you. Can I tell him that you accept his invite?"
A non descript halfling slips inside the tavern door, his eyes quickly roam ing over the patrons with a calculated eye.
This is the place where they should be...hope that good-fer-nothin agent didn't lead me astray... Reonnyn thinks to himself as he locates the party where he was informed would be meeting him here. Reflecting briefly on the whirlwind journey of how he managed to escape that Hell's forsaken rock....making his way over the long and ardrous journey back to Greyhawk, only to discover there indeed was a rather large bounty on his head...even after all those years. Good thing he still had some favors to cash in...
Castle Greyhawk...a Deathtrap if I ever know one...BUT I did escape one before...I can do it again.
Resolving to see whether these adventurers were indeed as competent as the barkeep had indicated he approaches the company, nodding his head in greeting. "Name is Reonnyn...but call me the 'Runt'. I was told you are the ones who braved Castle Greyhawk? I was told Damaris can vouch for me here. I am willing to lend my talents to your mission to recover the rest of the missing supplies."
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A short lush, curvy chocolate toned, dark skinned woman, with silky black straight full bodied hair, flowing down to her waist in the back stands before you. Her eyes are a deep blue as they look at you. her torso is unclothed for the most part, yet she wears a wispy vest, a leather side split, short above her knees skirt, leather boots, and carries a satchel over her shoulder. On her belt you see a small pouch (with what looks like a toad peeking out), and she carries a quarterstaff in one hand, and a light crossbow hangs at her side off of her belt.
She hears this priest of Pelor make his entrance, or rather approach her and her entourage and she looks up, and quiets her croaking conversation with Zagyg (her toad) to acknowledge the human male before her. she pauses, looks him up and down, and nods to the man, while looking over his shoulder at a cat that is moving about in the rafters.
then a small child enters as well, Runt indeed, Braved a castle? ruins more like, at the mention of missing supplies, she quickly takes her satchel and dumps it out on the table and starts inventorying it to be sure nothing is missing. She pays particular interest to any scrolls that are missing and makes a note to restock ink and rescribe scrolls.
Morrow glances up at the priest, of Boccob, and smiles slightly. It was nice to have a somewhat comfortable seat, and a good meal, now free, added to it. "Good to hear that Altamaic is recovering. His condition was one that I'm sure we'd all prefer to avoid. Thanks for the meal and drink and certainly we'll accept the invite." He stands to hand clasp the man and grins fully as he still has to look up to meet the man's eyes. His light chain sparkles slightly with the movement and the flickering of the light. The only weapon that he visibly wears is a long sword, but he also has a slim pack on his back. "I'm know as Morrow Tue, sword slinger and mage of little repute. Are you joining us then? The meal and drink are pretty good."
When the halfling approaches Morrow sits again. "Runt? I'll call any man whatever he desires, but I've learned over my years never to underestimate one with such as name as that. Have a seat. If you're joining us you will want a good last meal. The dangers of the castle could claim us all...." He raises his mug and grins at the last statement and takes a long drink.
OOC: Did we have to return that flaming longsword?
" I thank you Morrow, and accept your offer to break bread with you."
Verdan takes an open seat and waits till the meal has arrived, then bows head.
"May Pelor bless this food we are about to receive, May his light shine away these dark times. Amen"
Verdan looks up and everyone at the table.
"So you are Morrow and you are called 'Runt' and I am sorry I did not catch the rest of your names?"
Reonnyn slides into one of the high-backed chairs next to the swordsman calling himself Morrow and eagerly dives into the food, helping himself to various dishes of the sumptuous feast, along with a healthy draught of wine. The beautiful woman seated across from him draws an admiring stare from him, almost a leer but there was something in her eyes which gave him pause.
Averting his gaze quickly he reflects on another woman who he had left behind, Watch yerself...she is as a lush flower, heady to the nose and silky to the touch yet as poisonous as the devil adder...does she think I am a common THIEF??!
Trying to put the woman's insult aside he nods in greeting to Morrow. "Yeah, just call me Runt...or THE Runt, if you prefer," he smirks softly, "Sometimes being called by WHAT you are is safer than by WHO you are, if you catch my meaning! As for the Castle I give it a healthy respect, as much as a place deserves, yet I refuse to be cowed by its reputation. I plan on surviving to tell MY tale!"
And amassing enough gold to pay my debts...
Sitting in the corner, a large wolf sitting peacefully at his side is one of the elusive wild elves. He looks somewhat uncomfortable to be in the inn around so many other people, a slight strain around the eyes giving him away. His unkempt brown hair, hanging loose to his shoulders with a couple twigs and leaves in it, shows that he probably wishes to leave soon. His sea green eyes glance over at the two strangers who have introduced themselves.
The priest looked like a likeable enough man, even if religious people often frown upon the wild elves. He was being polite though, which was better than Karieth had encountered often enough in the past. The halfling seemed interesting as well, if a little snarky, as most halflings usually were to him.
"My name is Karieth Amanodel, of the Gnarly Forest." The wild elf responds. Resting a hand on the wolf sitting at his side, Karieth nods his head in greeting to the two people before returning to his meal.
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Wakandah, is I, and this here is Zagyg. when we are alive, we try to help out, when we are dead, we mostly just bleed on things, from what i have heard. fun times though, lots of things to see, explore, find, and bring back. lots of bad people though, want to stop us from doing any of that fun, right Karieth?
"When you died? How often have you been returned from the afterlife? How many in your party have had to return? "
Godsday (Vernal Equinox), 4th day of , 594 C.Y.
Weather is cold with brisk winds out of the north in the morning, but warming up a bit in the afternoon, sky is clear with a few clouds.
Current time is two hours after sunrise.
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The evening is spent in merriment and good company, as Ricard Damaris keeps the drink and food coming (at no cost to half of the group, though the newcomers must provide coin in exchange), while regaling Reonnyn and Verdan with tales of the heroes’ attack on the orcs that had raided the caravan, which seems to be more than slightly embellished, unless the adventurers are misremembering certain details. Eventually, each of the adventurers heads to their rooms, whether at the Green Dragon or elsewhere.
The morning of the Vernal Equinox dawns chilly, with cold winds forcing those headed out into the streets to wear warm coats and jackets, despite the official onset of spring. The sky is clear though, with no threat of rain and the promise of a warmer day once the sun rises high. The group congregates again at the Green Dragon Inn, where they are treated to a breakfast of fresh eggs, sausage, warm bread and butter as well as a delectable variety of fruits and cheese. Eventually, Verdan leads the way from the River Quarter toward the Clerkburg district in the north end of New City, passing from the west to east of the Processional, the grand avenue that bisects the city. This area of the City of Greyhawk is teeming with swarms of students from the dozens of colleges, universities and academies that have made the Jewel of the Flanaess one of the foremost cities of learning on the continent, initiated during the reign of Zagig Yragerne centuries ago, before the former (and many say demented) mayor of Greyhawk became a demigod. There a great many parks, taverns and other entertainment areas in this lively section of the city, but after passing the massive Free Arena, the group turns onto the Street of Temples, continuing past edifices dedicated to Celestial, Kord and Lendor before arriving at the temple of Bocccob.
An imposing citadel of stone towers and rooftop gardens anchors Clerkburg’s Street of Temples, and the faith of Boccob has long enjoyed great popularity in the City of Greyhawk over the years, despite the noninterventionist nature of its clergy and faithful. Services at the Guild of Wizardry, the Society of Magi, and the University of Magical Arts pay homage to Boccob as the Archmage of the Gods, the ideal wizard whose knowledge is as broad as the multiverse and as deep as the Abyssian Ocean. It is common knowledge that the late Riggby himself led the congregation of this temple, but he was forced to leave for a life of seclusion following the dread cambion Iuz’s declaration of revenge following the Greyhawk Wars. The mighty priest left mostly to protect the innocent folk of Clerksburg rather than out of self-preservation, but even now the body of Riggby is coming home, still traveling in procession from the distant city of Verbobonc to the west.
Familiar with the temple, Verdan leads the way up the steps to the grand entrance, where he is greeted warmly by a pretty cleric with dark hair named Rhiann. Smiling at the adventurers, the young acolyte speaks words of welcome to you all, then faces Verdan fully. “Altamaic has been asking for you, I am sure he will be happy to see that you have brought his rescuers for him to thank personally.” Taking their leave of Rhiann, the party is led by Verdan through the hallways of the grand temple and into a comfortable waiting area where he bids them to sit and make themselves comfortable while he speaks to the duty priest. A short time later, they are led to a room where Altamaic is still recovering, though compared to how he looked just a few days ago, it is obvious that the cleric of Boccob is well on his way to full health.
Altamaic remains in bed, though only at Verdan’s gentle, but firm urging, and he shakes the hand of each of the heroes that rescued him, thanking them profusely for their efforts. Settling back against his pillows, he turns to regard Morrow, then Karieth and finally Wakandah. “I was taking the weekly donations made through the church to a couple of locations south of the city when I was attacked by a band of orcs. I’m afraid I wasn’t able to put up much of a fight, and in all honesty I thought I was dead. But by Boccob’s grace I awoke a short time later being dragged along by two of the brutes down a long flight of stone steps. I had no idea where I was, and though I was still dazed and barely conscious I remember the one in the lead stopped at a landing and opened a secret door, at which time they dragged me through and into some kind of a storage area. I was able to walk on my own at that point, and though I didn’t understand the words they spoke I gathered that they were tired of dragging me and forced me to keep going on my own feet. I recall that a big one cuffed me on the head each time I faltered or leaned against a wall for support. I remember passing through a common eating area of some kind. There were orcs and an ogre as well. They pelted me with food as I passed, and I am grateful I was unable to understand their words.”
The priest pauses, then. “If I may ask, how did you come to find me? You must have seen some of what I did as well, yes? I have more to tell, but would hear of what you know and what you did. Though you may spare me some of the… gorier details, please.” Altamaic grins, but his dark eyes reflect a kind soul within, and the hardened adventurers know that he is being quite truthful in not wanting to hear the details of the death and destruction they left in their wake.
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Morrow nods to the priest as he relays his story. "We saw many enemy such as what you mention, and other monsters, living and undead, and traps. The ruins are very dangerous but we were seeking stolen treasure that we would return to its rightful owner. We are glad that we could bring you out and that your order could restore you. We plan to re-enter the ruins. If we happen across your stolen treasure is there any way we would recognize it as such? If so we will of course return that as well."
OOC: Thanks West.
If Glorb doesn't stay with us can the healing wands go to someone else? (Not me. I can't use them....)
Reonnyn listens to the story related by the priest with a focus of one who knows his life may depend on every word. Unfortunately many of the details are inconsistent or just sound plain wrong to his ears.
Guess it is back to winging it...
As Morrow chimes in he nods slowly, "Aye, if these supplies are indeed scattered among the ruins then starting at the last place you explored, where you fought that orc blackguard would be where I would start!"
During the evening, a young man with dark hair and violet eyes would slip into the room, although with anyone wearing Full Plate, perhaps slip was not the right word.
He would remain quiet, listening to the stories of the road that the others told; of the Orc attack and the subsequent victory of the adventurers. When asked to introduce himself, he would simply say "I am Joryn, holy warrior of Celestian. His will has brought me here."
When the group met the next morning, Joryn was waiting for them, still wearing his plain-but-functional plate armor, only this time a battered Heavy Wooden shield was strapped to his back and a plain, yet well cared-for, longsword sat sheathed on his belt for a left-hand draw.
A traveler's cloak, metal gauntlets that did not match his armor, and several rods that were hung from his belt for easy draw rounded out his appearance, clearly marking him as an adventurer.
During the trip, he let again let the others lead the conversation, but would speak of spoken to. It quickly became apparent that he seemed uncomfortable speaking to large groups of people.
When they were finally led into the priest's room, he listened to the story from both sides before saying to the priest "I mean no disrespect to the followers of The Archmage of The Gods, but should you require further healing, I would be happy to give all I have been granted."
Verdan is quite interested when the story was about undead.
"Were they your normal zombies and skeletons or something more powerful?"
Further Healing? Maybe he thinks I am just an acolyte. Well I can not judge maybe it's part of his order, like mine, to give aid and healing where he can.
"Thank you for your kind offer Sir Joryn. I think ,with Pelor's light, it is just rest that he now needs."
Morrow nods to Reonnyn, "Aye Runt, that's as good of a place to restart as any, but we didn't encounter the black guard there or he'd've been dead."
Facing Verdan he shakes his head, "I've never heard of any undead being called normal. But understanding your question I think I'd have to say no. The usual mindless undead barely take more than a tap or two to return them to their natural state. And we did have a powerful battle priest with us. No, they were more like knights, reanimated and set as guards, even including horse and battle wagon at the entrance."
"Joryn? Good to meet another holy man for this task. I'm Morrow."
OOC: No insult intended Verdan. Morrow doesn't think much of Necromancers.
Giving a smile to Morrow
"Yes, Normal and undead do contradict each other. I am glad you understood what I was talking about.
Perhaps this is a reason that Pelor has sent me, to do battle with the undead.
Glorb had been busy catching up with several personal issues, and had not seen his companions for some days. As he finally reaches the Green Dragon Inn, he is told that they have just left to speak with the priest Altamaic that they saved from the Ruins.
He sets off for the Temple of Boccob and is escorted to Altamaic's room.
"Hi, Altamaic! Good to see you alive and well!", he says. "Hi, Wakandah, Morrow, Karieth! Hi, newcomers! Sorry I'm late!"
Reonnyn watches the banter between the holy men with a barely disguised smirk on his face, but holds his tongue for now.
No need to get on their bad sides, as they have the means to keep me alive!
As the gnome enters the room his face lights up in relief, Finally one of my stature is here...always good to have one who sees things from your eyes...
"Greeting fellow man! I am called the Runt, for reasons plain to see but my name to you is Reonnyn. You look one who knows his way around the big'uns" He smiles and offers a hand in greeting.
Glorb accepts the hand and shakes it as he smiles. "Nice! Nice! Reonnyn it will be! My companion Big Ones are fine and serious adventures. Able as well."
Verdan looking down on his old time friend. Placing a hand on Altamaic's shoulder.
"Altamaic, can you think of any other reason why they would want to keep you captive?
"I am Joryn." says Joryn as he introduces himself.
Godsday (Vernal Equinox), 4th day of , 594 C.Y.
Weather is cold with brisk winds out of the north in the morning, but warming up a bit in the afternoon, sky is clear with a few clouds.
Current time is two hours after sunrise.
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Altamaic smiles at Glorb and thanks the gnome profusely as well, then nods at Verdan’s question. “Alas, old friend, I think I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’d heard of caravans running afoul of brigands of late, but never thought I would be at risk.” He shakes his head. “But I fear there is something more… sinister at work here. You see, I was taken down an elevator… two of them, actually. There was a huge creature on the platform between them, and the orcs said something to it. Something about… Vayne commands… I can’t recall exactly, I was still groggy, I’m sorry. The thing watched us, but didn’t hinder the orcs as they led me into the second lift. That opened into a dank stone hallway, and then I remember a giant chamber. Huge. An… arena of some kind – though nearly so large as the one here in Greyhawk.” The priest smiles, though the expression fades quickly. “There was a man, clad in heavy armor and with the look of an experienced warrior. He was surrounded by hoch jebli (hobgoblins), and there were two giant wolves as well. He threatened to feed me to them…”
The cleric of Boccob leans back against the pillows and closes his eyes for a few long minutes, long enough that you think he has fallen asleep, and then he speaks again. “I am not a brave man. Not like…” He waves his hand in the general direction of the adventurers and chuckles. “I am a simple priest. My faith is strong, but I have never been so frightened in all my life. They called him ‘The General’, and I was asked many questions, mostly about the church, about my faith, the other temples nearby and even about Riggby’s coming arrival.” Again he shakes his head, his expression remorseful. “I am afraid I recall little else after that. I think I provided some answers, much to my dismay. And then they fitted me with a robe and… a skeleton holding a spoon to my mouth? I think it was feeding me, or providing me with water…” He shudders, then falls silent again. After a moment, he draws a deep breath and continues. “I can tell you where to find the elevator, if you are of a mind to go back there. There was a short passage with ankle-deep water, ending in a secret door, and then a storeroom, and another secret door behind a pile of stacked crates…”
With Altamaic’s directions, the adventurers that delved beneath the War Tower recognize the passage described as the one choked with water that flowed into the rift room where they fought the hill giants and goblins. They never had the chance to explore that section of the dungeon, but it seems likely they would have never found the hidden door behind the crates – not without knowing exactly where to find it in the vast storeroom. After answering any further questions as best he can – though the cleric remembers little else worthwhile, he hands small tokens to Glorb, Morrow, Wakandah and Karieth. “Take these, please. I have been given permission to grant each of you a single boon that my colleagues will respect on my behalf. Though if the spell components needed are costly, you will have to provide the funds.” He adds apologetically.
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Looking at the adventures
"With your permission, I would like to join you on this endeavor if you will have me. I offer my skills as healer and destroyer of the undead."
"Altamaic can you describe that huge creature on the platform?"
looking at the adventures
"This room with water was it passable, just asking for spell selections. What information can you bring to light about this War Tower?"
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Wakandah has been wandering about the room, eyeing and playing with different items, listening here and there, perhaps nodding, or humming depending on the time, what was said, or not. Zagyg and her have been talking to each other in croaks and ribbits. she places her hand on the shoulders of different people at different times, sits on the bed with Altamaic and strokes his arm when he seems sad or tired. she thumbs her scrolls as the talks end, and she is ready to depart when the party is. she has some more thinking to do, and perhaps to stay up today and tonight and work on scrolls before departing. (also to think on this spell casting service)
Listening to the story of the man they had saved in the ruins, Karieth observes the new people who seem to want to join them in the next dungeon delve. The wild elf does not say much, his eyes constantly darting around to take in his surroundings as the others speak of what had happened. He does not reject the assistance of the newcomers, giving one glance down at Conri to see if he dislikes them before nodding his assent.
Morrow holds a hand out to Verdan, "Only a fool would turn down aid going in to this place. Welcome."
OOC: Can't think of any spell that I need cast. Ready to go!
"I have been drawn here by Celestian. I offer my blade as well."
This...General sounds like a quick and painful death in battle, but he definitely is the one behind the banditry. I think the best way to deal with him is a knife to the heart as he sleeps.
Reonnyn offers his hand to the others, "Truth be told I don't wish to be here, but events have forced my hand. May Yondalla watch over us." He fervently says.
Godsday (Vernal Equinox), 4th day of Growfest, 594 C.Y.
Weather is cold with brisk winds out of the north in the morning, but warming up a bit in the afternoon, sky is clear with a few clouds.
Current time is about noon.
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Altamaic answers Verdan's query as best he can, describing a horribly scarred creature standing some eight feet tall or more. The others convey that the water they encountered was very shallow, little more than a runoff stream of sorts that trickled out of the walls and flowed along the stone floor of the corridor until it met the edge of a rather deep rift that bisected a large chamber in which they fought a pair of hill giants, several goblin assassins and even a strange creature that the humanoids seemed to enjoy tormenting that looked like a floating brain with tentacles and a nasty beak.
The group eventually takes their leave of the recuperating cleric of Boccob and sets their sights on the ruins of the War Tower that apparently holds more secrets than they'd suspected. Though the ruins of Castle Greyhawk are clearly visible in the distance from the parks north of the city, they newcomers learn that there is no direct path to them from these woodlands. Exiting the city through the Marsh Gate, located in the River Quarter, they come across a path that leads west to the banks of the Selintan River and Zagig's Bridge, a great expanse of stone that crosses over the water. The others explain that this is where they fought with the orcs that had ambushed the merchant caravan, and rescued Ricard. Once across, a well-worn path leads north through farmlands and rolling hills. The unseasonably cold winds have begun to die down by late morning and the weather is pleasantly cool and the skies are fairly clear, with only a few wispy clouds streaking the azure dome above. After four miles or so, the hills become quite rugged, and despite the cool temperatures the party works up a mild sweat as they climb the steep path. After three more miles of winding, occasionally switch-backing trail, their path ends at the doorstep of Castle Greyhawk.
As the party moves around a copse of gnarled trees, their gaze falls upon three ruined towers, each upon a steep hill that overlooks the area. The central tower is larger than the other two and surrounded by the remains of a low stone wall, built upon the largest of the three peaks, maybe 50’ above the other tors to its left and right, upon which are the other two smaller fortifications. Just ahead of the group, a large statue lies upon the ground, maybe a thousand feet away from where the path begins to climb that craggy hill upon which the central tower is built. The carving appears to be that of an enormous raven, seven or eight feet tall and crafted of common stone. It is weathered to some degree, but not as badly as one might expect, exposed to the elements as it is.
The adventurers that have visited this place before warn of the militant dwarves called the Wartower Wardens that guard the tower on the right-hand side. Little more than greedy extortionists, they demanded a share of whatever wealth was garnered from beneath the tower in exchange for information on how to access the dungeons beneath the tower. The party refused, and though the dwarves and their allies did not attack, they left the adventurers to deal with the undead guardians that protected the tower itself - a battle that saw them victorious, though not without sustaining more than a few injuries.
Of the Wartower Wardens, there is no sign. The outbuilding near the tower in which they were headquartered appears to be silent, with no activity around it, though it is still about a hundred yards away.
Should we take a look to see if the dwarves you spoke of are still here?
Reonnyn nods in agreement, "Yeah I don't like this at all. Those dwarves sounded like they had a cushy job, and I never knew a dwarf to turn down a lazy job! We should see what befell them."
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Wakandah walks with the new people, getting to know them, asking them questions about different things, and interrupting their answers with questions to Zagyg about how he thinks they will respond, and if they truly understand anything at all about most things.
"Did we ever pay those dwarves the fee they asked? Do you think they were working with the General?" she asks as they peruse the tower of war wardens a 100 or so yards away.
"it looks quiet, do you think they are all sleeping, or watching us with crossbows?" she finally asks, looking from over the shoulder of Verdan
"Those dwarves were just trying to make some profit from other peoples work. We do not have to pay attention to them. Let's go on!", Glorb suggests.
Morrow nods and readies his sword, "They may have been run off. But they may also have set up an ambush. Be ready!"
OOC: Sword and shield ready.
"Did the Dwarves come out and meet your group before, or did you open a tower door and meet them there?"
Morrow glares in the direction of the tower, obviously remembering something annoying, "Meet us? They might have considered it such. They confronted us and demanded that we give up the best of any spoils that we might recover. We told them that we weren't grave robbers or simple treasure seekers. Didn't matter to them. I figured we'd have to fight our way out if we couldn't find some other way to leave to bypass them."
Knowledge is power, and it would be wise to know what the Dwarves are up to.
But not walking into something that can be avoided is most prudent.
Verdan make sure his shield and mace are ready.
"So, let's go down and see what's going on then."
Godsday (Vernal Equinox), 4th day of Growfest, 594 C.Y.
Weather is cold with brisk winds out of the north in the morning, but warming up a bit in the afternoon, sky is clear with a few clouds.
Current time is about noon.
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The group congregates some distance beyond the fallen statue of the raven, those that have passed through before giving their accounts of the self-proclaimed Wartower Wardens as those that have recently joined in the quest offer their suggestions. A short distance away, the three large, partially-ruined towers loom in the near distance, sitting starkly upon the steep-sided hills on which they were built long centuries ago. As to the fallen raven statue behind them, after mentioning it at the Green Dragon Inn, they learned that it has been here for many years and is said to have been magically transported here from one of the lower levels of the dungeon - at least according to local legend. The path upon which the party stands crosses a bridge just ahead, which leads up to the summit of the central hill and the Tower of Zagig. The collapsed keep is surrounded by an old stone wall that has also fallen to the ravages of time, with numerous gaps and breaches that provide little in the way of protection. The Tower of Magic on the west pinnacle is likewise in ruins, accessed by a bridge that spans the gap between that hill and the Tower of Zagig. But the group had not investigated either of these when they first arrived at the ruins several days ago, instead following the trail of the orc bandits to the eastern-most hill, climbing its slope along a steep trail on its northern face, which switchbacked up to the western side of the Tower of War. That tower can also be accessed by a bridge that spans the gulf between it and the central keep as well, though one would have to pass through the ruined courtyard of the Tower of Zagig to reach the ancient stone span.
Overview of Surface Ruins of Castle Greyhawk
Those that dealt with the greedy mercenaries recall that they had been lurking just within the shadows of the tower itself, and made their presence known as the group approached, confronting them as they crested the top of the hill from the steep trail they’d followed. With no better plan offered, the group makes their way off toward the ruined structure by climbing the trail on the north face of the hill, full expecting the dwarves ready to confront them when they reach the top. But as they finish the steep climb and move around the north side of the tower, there is no movement to be seen around the outbuilding, nor at the entrance of the War Tower itself. And as the adventurers come within thirty feet or so of the Wartower Warden’s headquarters, they note that the door is partially open and a body lies on the threshold. There is also the smell of death in the air, partially mitigated by the unseasonably cool weather perhaps, but as the day has warmed up, so has the stench of rotting flesh reached an unhealthy level even out here. And then there is also the buzzing of thousands of flies heard within the building, and as the group moves closer to the door they can see that the interior of the barracks has been transformed into a charnel house. Five corpses can be seen either in the doorway or just inside, and the smell is difficult to ignore – even for the hardiest soul. It doesn’t take a healer to realize that these men died violently, though the exact means of their demise will require further investigation. At a glance, Verdan deems that these dwarves (for most of them are demi-human, though there is also a human glimpsed among the dead) were killed a day or two ago at the most.
To the left, the heavy doors of the War Tower stand closed beyond the pit - about thirty feet deep and roughly hewn - that wards the entrance to the ruined turret. The pit itself feels more like a recently-created means of denying easy entry to the tower, likely built by the Wartower Wardens rather than being a fortification of the original tower itself - and the same can be said of the outbuilding that the opportunistic group once occupied. There are other means of entering the War Tower of course - which spans about two hundred fifty feet or so in diameter - though the outer curved wall is in remarkably good shape, requiring one to climb the thirty or forty feet needed to reach the upper levels that stand open to the elements. The party was able to laboriously circumvent the pit using ropes, and then muscled the doors open last time without much trouble however, and at least this time it doesn’t appear they will have to do so to the rude catcalls and japes of the Wartower Wardens…
Player’s Map of Outbuilding and Entrance to War Tower
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Reonnyn glances alarmed about the area as the stench of the corpses assails his nostrils. Drawing his little rapier he glances towards the others hissing softly, "Looks like something fell did slaughter these dwarves. These...Wardens looked capable with arms here. Whoever did this must have overwhelmed them with brute force and fell magicks!"
As the group draws closer the apparent coincidence between the previous visitation and now is soon apparent to him. "No happenstance here. These men were slaughtered, and not by a whim either. This was punishment...for allowing the Tower to be breached." The halfling's eye, shedding an eerie glow, glance at each of you leaving little doubt as to who he is referring to. "Let's see if any survived this..." he finishes but his tone is filled with doubt.
Verdan walks over to the fallen dwarves and give last rites, the best he can, to speed their souls to Mordan.
If room is safe, Verdan will try and figure out cause of death (by blade, teeth, magic, etc)
"At first glance I want to say that what ever killed the dwarves enjoyed doing it. Once this room is secured we should look around, they might have had a map or something useful for us."
Morrow moves in, weapon ready as the others investigate the bodies. "Best to search the whole area here and see what killed these. I don't want them attacking us from the rear while we climb across again to enter the tower."
OOC: Unless there are other light sources, as I enter I command the sword to flame for light.
Joryn will join the Pelorite and as Verdan offered last rites, Joryn searched for wounded, or those merely at death's threshold.
Godsday (Vernal Equinox), 4th day of , 594 C.Y.
Weather is cold with brisk winds out of the north in the morning, but warming up a bit in the afternoon, sky is clear with a few clouds.
Current time is about noon.
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The group approaches the stone building cautiously but find no signs of life – neither friendly nor hostile. There are four dwarves and a human here in the entry room and Verdan delivers the last rites to the dead, then searches the bodies for signs of what killed them. Morrow and a few of the others search the rest of the building in the meantime, finding the smaller rooms empty, though the common area at the back appears to have been barricaded by tables at one point, though the furniture now lies in pieces, shattered and destroyed during the battle. There are more dead back there, and it seems that it is the room in which the Wartower Wardens made their final stand. The battered, twisted body of the dwarven leader Stillguar is found, along with his second in command named Grebold. Nine more dwarves, another human and a gnome are found as well, their bodies stripped of valuables and weapons – as were the bodies in the first room.
The entire place has obviously been ransacked and Verdan makes a few interesting observations in his inspection of the slain Wartower Wardens. That they were killed in battle is obvious to all. Many of them bear deep slashes from swords, or puncture wounds from spears, and heavy bruises made by clubs or similar weapons. But others show signs of other types of brutal trauma. Snapped necks, arms and legs broken as though the bones were mere toothpicks. The cleric deems that there was something large and very, very strong among those that attacked the dwarves and their allies. Though exactly what it might have been is impossible to determine. Perhaps a giant, but even those creatures tend to use heavy clubs that though quite large do not account for the damage that many of the dead show signs of. It looks to Verdan as though a powerful foe killed many of these men with bare hands…
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Reonnyn hops around nervously when Verdan makes his final report on who slaughtered the Wardens. "Perhaps, it was not punishment that drove the attackers, but greed. In any event we need to tread lightly here" He glances towards the War Tower briefly, "Should we move on here or perhaps try to question the spirit of these men?"
While he feels sickened by the grisly deaths of the men, Morrow is still glad that they won't have to kill them.... He shrugs at the comment from Reonnyn, "Possibly. Or whatever the beast is may have been leading and the men robbed the dead after. We can't tell the motive unless we find the killers."
"I'm not a tracker. Can anyone tell where the slayers went? The tracks of the big one might be the easiest to follow, at least outside to see what direction they go?"
OOC: I don't remember who has tracking skills, but I don't.
If nobody objects, drag the bodies out and throw them in the pit. Once all are in we can toss some rocks down to cover. Pity our wizard left. She could've sent one of her little elementals down to bury them....
"I have very little knowledge about the wilderness, but I will certainly offer what assistance I can."