Senniki shoots twice while stepping closer.
Markus is ravaged once more, this time nearly disemboweled. It was a miracle that the creature missed him with its other attacks.
But, another strike would kill the stalwart. Using a polearm had its advantages, he hadn't come too close, just close enough. All he had to do was step back
After one more try! Nearly satisfied, Markus reluctantly steps back out of immediate reach.
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Blows raining down from all sides, the beast has little room to maneuver and no hope to escape. Rolling to avoid the pit, the creature barely has time to regain its barings before another of Senniki's deadly arrows comes whistling in. Growling in pain, it seems about to rise to deal with the Paladin, but seeing an opportuntiy, Markus leaps in and slices the beast in the neck.
Its growl suddenly becomes a gurgle, as foul, black blood gushes from its mouth. It makes one more feeble attempt to rise, but its many arms no longer have the strength to lift it and buckle beneath its weight. Settling on its back, the creature lets out one last rattling breath before shuddering and becoming still.
As life leaves it, the creature's body begins to loose cohesion and soon begins to melt before your eyes, leaving a spreading pool of vile blackness that drains into the pit Lucid conjured from the either. The liquid smokes in the sunlight and in less time that you would have thought possible, all the remains of the beast is the death and destruction it has left in its wake.
The survivors are silent, still stunned by what the had just experienced and just happen to still be among the living. Alustan is the first to recover. "I think we are going to have a long conversation."
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Still untrusting of the creature on the ground Lucid sits down on the roof and lets his feet dangle towards the ground. He trembles a little and removes the tooth from his backpack, comparing it to those in the creature's maw.
Yes, we have information to share. Best fetch the sherif as well.
Sverrir's anger dissipates and he slumps to his haunches as the downbeat victory is won. The grizzled dwur mutters under his breath as limbs become heavy and throat ever drier;
"By your Gods... I need a drink..."
At Lucid's words he nods silently afore awaiting the counsel of Markus and Senniki.
Senniki greets Allustan obviously a man of importance, Greetings, sir. I am Senniki, Paladin of Phaulkon. I don't believe we have met yet. I owe my life to these people, a debt I mean to pay back ten fold if I can. "
Senniki will follow the others to wherever they will go to talk about what has happened.
Markus finds something that would support his weight and drops to the ground, leaning against it. I might need one, too... Sver, least to numb the pain. Not complaining... I lived.
The man seems sad, perhaps defeated.
The town is subdued in victory and soon the air is full of the wailing of women and children, as the survivors creep out of hiding to take the toll of the dead. Surviving member of the church's of St. Cuthbert and Wee Jas, lend comfort where needed and claim the kinless dead.
With a clatter of hooves, the garrison from the keep thunders into town resplendent in their armour and the trapping for Heironius, but they are met with accusing glares and dark mutterings. Alustan steps out to meet them and after exchanging a few words, the Captain calls you over. He listens dubiously to your description of the last few days. He sends a detachment to investigate the Dourstone mine and tells you to check in at the garrison each morning until your claims can be verified. This takes little time and you are all soon proclaimed heroes and the saviours of diamond lake.
Auric and Tierra also rightfully hailed as heroes and the town sees that Khellek is laid to rest with honour. With the brains of the operation in the ground, their is little reason for them to stay in town and a few days later the pair of them return to the city of Greyhawk.
Sverrir pulls out a fist full of papers and calls for Smenk's head on a platter. Calming the volitile dwarf long enough to read the aforementioned documents, the Captain frowns and sends a couple of men to find Mr. Smenk to discuss the allegations. They soldiers return a short time later, saying that Mr. Smenk is no where to be found and in the next few days it comes to light that he was last seen fleeing on horse back when the first sound of a disturbance was heard from the Dourstone mine. Investigation of his manor revealed that a number of documents had been hastily burned, but enough had survived to link Smenk to a number of enterprises of questionable legality. With his flight, both the Smenk and Dourstone mines reverted to the crown, with the intention for them to be auctioned off once their value had been properly assessed.
Lucid, Marcus and Alustan spend several of the next few days pouring of the documents and journals recovered from the temples. What they find is disturbing. The presence of the Vecnan temple precipitated the events that followed. It is ancient and supposedly once served as a laboratory before Vecna attained Godhood. The actions of the cultists were fuelled by the visions of the mad grimlock cleric and were supported by the divinations of bother the Hextorian and Vecnan clergy. The three dieties had forged an alliance to gain power during the chaos that was to come.
The signs portended to the return of the Ancient God Kyuss and his appearance would herald the beginning of the age of worms, which would lay waste to the nations of the world. From these ashes, would the avatar rise and shelter the faithful. It power, infused with the essences of the three Gods, once matured, would be sufficient to prevent total annihilation.
Whilst the learned of the group pour of papers and the doctrines of documents, Sverrir spends his time much more purposefully.
Fuelled by the anger that Smenk had escaped their clutches, that justice would not be served, and the very real fear that despite all his so called "heroics" - the Koltunn name and holdings would remain lost in history and local folklore, the dwur felt it best to seek out an old friend...
A friend with many names...
Names such as Mead, Beer, Ale and Brandy then Whisky, Miner's Shine and nameless spirits that would blind a Beholder...
In the days most of his group sought wisdom and knowledge in the scrolls and tomes. Sverrir fell into the tavern wisdom of bottles and flagons...
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Lucid brings up the treatment the group received from the Sheriff’s Office and calls for an account of Sheriff Cubbin. If he was not working with Smenk they were at least of a like mind.
Lucid reminds Allustan of their agreement for him to learn some spells and if time allows in the evening he is busy copying spells to be better prepared for next time.
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In a moment of "weakness", not knowing where to turn... Alustan, you see what we're up against here, you saw that thing. My weapon can only do so much.
I need this polearm infused with either power, either eldritch or divine. Can it be done?. He of course is indicating his trusty fauchard.
On a regular basis, Markus would spend time with Sver. Making sure the dwur ate. He'd need something to vomit. Usually, this time would come after a full day with Lucid and Alustan.
Markus also welcomed Senniki into his home.
He also sought out any of Smenk's known associates, warning them against the idea of harming a single hair on the head of his loved ones, friends and family.
His free time, whatever that was... he spent training. If that "thing" was just the beginning, he would need to be better, faster, more deadly.
The captain is more than willing to listen to Lucid's complaints regarding their arrest, but seeing as the party is guilty of the charges, he seems more concerned about the circumventing of the judicial system that saw them released without a trial before a magister, but under the circumstances it doesn't seem worth the paperwork.
Alustan is unable to enchant weapons, but assures Markus that such services can be obtained easily in the city of Greyhawk.
4th—dimension door, stoneskin, remove curse, stone shape, scrying, summon monster IV, wall of fire
3rd—deep slumber, dispel magic,fireball, fly, displacement, explosive runes, gentle repose, haste, stinking cloud, water breathing;
2nd—resist energy, scorching ray, see invisibility, web, fog cloud, glitterdust, false life, gust of wind, invisibility, knock, mirror image, spider climb
1st—charm person (DC 16), identify, magic missile, magic weapon, shield, alarm, comprehend languages, color spray, feather fall, mage armor, silent image, shocking grasp, Tenser’s floating disc, true strike;
Senniki graciously accepts the invitation to Markus's home after first returning to the Able Coaches Inn to see if he could recover any of his personal things left behind from before he was taken by the cultists.
Having a home cooked meal after being below ground for so long hit the spot for Senniki. His mixed blood must be strong human in terms of his palate for food.
During down time Senniki will look for an armorer to re-fit his armor gained from the cultists and put Phaulkon's logo on it. He'll also see about looking for a magic bow if he has enough funds for it. At the very least he will be looking for a potion or two of enlarge person.
The next several weeks are sombre ones. Many townsfolk died when the vile threefold avatar was birthed into this world and with the death of Master Dourstone and the flight of Master Smenk, the future of their respective mines, and the livelihood of a larger number of people, remains to be determined. Still, the dead are laid to rest, the destroyed buildings are rebuilt and the town starts to heal.
These are odd days for our small group of stout hearted adventures. Half of the townsfolk see them heroes for saving the town, the other half blame them for causing the destruction. Everyone is on edge and the topic of the PCs starts more than one brawl in the local taverns.
It is in these days of equally hurled praise and curses, that Alustan summons you to his tower. He greets you warmly, but you can't help but notice that he looks drawn and tired. These last weeks have been as taxing on him as anybody. Leading you to his study, he settles you into the comfortable, overstuffed leather chairs, before pulling out a folded piece of parchment.
"Hello my friends. I hope that all is well with you these days. We are all busy people, so I wont waste either of our times and get straight to the point. I have just received a letter from an old friend of mine. Marzena is a battle mage in the service of the City of Greyhawk and has been stationed a Blackwell keep in the Mistmash for quite some time now. The garrison there serves as a buffer between the Lizardfolk tribes that live in the swamps and the farmlands that lay beyond them. Apparently the Lizardfolk have been getting more bold as of late and she was hoping that I might be able to make the trip up to help reinforce the keep for a bit, along with some of the local garrison. I have already contacted the Captain, and a small detachment and I will be leaving for Blackwell in a couple of days."
"Considering what the current situation is in town, I might have suggested that you all join our little expedition just to give a little time for the local emotions to cool a little, but I think you might be interested in joining us for you own reasons. In the postscript of her letter, Marzena asked if I have ever come across of voracious, little green worm before. Apparently, they are literally coming out of the woodwork up there in the marsh and she wonder if I might know why. Sounds familier?'
Sverrir scowls, takes a sip from his brandy flask, then scowls again.
"Oh aye we know them green worm... An infestation means bad ju-ju lads... Now I'm all for a wee sojurn from Diamond Lake but we make sure we're prepared for the task at hand..."
The dwur licks his lips and taps the battered flask with a hard grin.
"Plenty of this tincture for starters! Har!"
Come, friends. We may somehow have caught this clandestine plot by the tail. Through some twist of fate, we may know more than the rest of the world and have seen it... first hand.
When one foul god knocks, there's trouble... But, three of'em together to raise some amalgam. Seems wicked priests and criminals have found a way to work together. If humanity doesn't do the same, hope is lost.
Markus claps Sver on the shoulder, then runs his hand through his pre-mature salt and pepper hair.
Guess we've passed a rite of passage, done with the small-town small-time. Let's go show the big boys what we got.
"I'm interesting in going if you'll have me. I didn't want to assume. I came here to find the Wind Dukes, but I cannot ignore this threat we have stumbled upon."
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Lucid has dreamed of travel since he was was aware that the world was more than their little town. His eyes brighten at the mention of traveling anywhere with the elder wizard and he seems ready to burst with excitement at the mention of Marzena and battle mages and Mistmarch. Yes, we must go and help if we can. he tries to say calmly. We have knowledge and experience that is unique. We should consult with this Marzena. Together we will be able to puzzle out more than we would alone. A couple of days you say? Well, I shall be ready. He stands. Yes, I shall go now and pack and lay in food and supplies. How long is the journey? And shall we walk or ride? Lucid lingers in the doorway in case has more information for them.
Of course, you're coming! We'll tell you what we know of the Wind Dukes or hazzard a guess. It all started with that damnable cairn.
Lucid, speed is of the essence. I say, we ride.
Of course, you're coming! We'll tell you what we know of the Wind Dukes or hazzard a guess. It all started with that damnable cairn.
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Of course, you're coming! We'll tell you what we know of the Wind Dukes or hazzard a guess. It all started with that damnable cairn.
Was waiting to see if anyone would catch that! Had to word it just right... and spell Hazzard like the county! I think it's 2 z's. LOL!
A few days later, you meet with Alustan and a dozen men from the garrison to begin your journey to Blackwell Keep. They are all mounted on the solid, serviceable mounts one would expect for soldiers on government pay. The sole exception being Alustan, who a rides a fine looking, but somewhat stout gelding. A pair of the soldiers drive a wagon loaded with dry goods and supplies for the Keep.
The day is grey and drizzly, and the weather doesn't get better as the day wears on. The trip takes the better part of two days, travelling both south and east, along rough roads. You spend the night in an old abandoned farmhouse along the side of the road, known locally as "Shank's Rest'. Shank gave up farming many years ago after coming into a large inheritance and moved to more hospitable climes. He never bothered to sell his old place and now it serves as somewhat dry haven along this lonely stretch of road. A watch is set, but no bandits or raiders bother your rest.
The next morning, the weather has cleared somewhat and you set out for the final leg of the journey. The Keep is build in the tail end of the Cairn Hills and the last few miles get increasingly hilly. Coming over the last rise, you look down upon a field of battle. Corpses litter the clearing leading up to a single black tower that juts defiantly from a lone hill. Then entrance to the keep is built into the side of the hill and even from this distance you can see that doors have been shattered and hastily repaired. Corpses of lizardfolk lay among the sharpened stakes that line the hill and as you watch, you see a large group of warriors a massing for another charge.
"Shit," Alustan curses. He turns to you and the soldiers. "You!" He points at one of the junior soldier. "Get back to the garrison, double quick. Let them know the situation and send more reinforcements. The rest of you hit them fast and hit them hard. If we're lucky they'll scatter. I'm going to see what the situation is like on the inside and will support you from there."
There are a few grim nods from the soldiers and the steely rasp of drawn swords. And with that they charge. Alustan's portly steed easily breaks out into the lead and shockingly continues to widen the gap. At the sound of approaching hoofbeats, the attention of the lizard men turns towards the approaching horsemen and group peels off to take on the new combatants. Alustan wheels abruptly away from the rest of the group and heads direct up the hill towards the side of the keep. As you watch you see his cloak sparkle and suddenly, both he and his stead disappear in a puff of billowing smoke.
At the same time the soldiers' charge meets the lizardmen warriors with a sickening thud of steel meeting flesh. Soon the screams of horses and the bellows of the lizardmen fill the air and not long after the screams of dying men join them.
The main host lumbers up the hill towards the broken entrance and a few arrows arc out of the battlements to fall among the attackers to little affect, but then Alustan reappears on the walls and a bright ball of fire arcs out to explode in the heart of the approaching host, as the wizard brings his might to bear.
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Markus' mind came into focus, there was no time to mourn the fallen. He tried to stay on the cargo wagon as long as was possible, bringing him closer to the tower. You ready, Sver? Time for some retribution, brother!
As reptilian groups broke off to meet the wagon and its mounted escort, he jumped with a loud Huzzah!
Having drawn attention to himself he'd bought precious seconds for the wagons and teamsters. He spun his fauchard in a wide arc, keeping some foe at bay... those stupid enough to charge him, paid for that stupidity as they crossed an invisible line bringing them into his domain.
He kept an eye on his dwur brother as he moved. Never staying too long in one place, nearly dancing about the battle field. Moving, striking and moving again. Using Sver's position to set up flanking opportunities, breaking up teams that rushed the dwur.
Those few times when a reptilian managed to close and render his polearm useless, he merely released one hand and drew a dagger with practiced ease and amazing speed.
Always his eyes sought out Lucid, Senniki and Sver. Cognizant of their positions, he lent support as required. By the time they reached the tower, Markus was bloodied, out of daggers. But, he'd never dropped his fauchard. Nearly spent, his chest heaved as he gulped big breaths. If they lived, another dagger or two and a strong bow.
Everyone alright?
Nursing a hangover, even the iron gutted dwur barely hangs onto his breakfast as the wagon lurches to a sudden halt .
Growling a curse, he shakes his head at Markus' ever upbeat morale.
"Blooddy retribution!? I'm always ready lad! Ready for a fight... an' ready for a drink!"
The dwur grabs hammer and flask, then follows his companion, disembarking with a grunt.
Sverrir scowled at the oncoming waves of lizard-folk, their warriors sinuously charging toward these new foes, these apparently easy pickings to their reptilian brains.
Downing several deep draughts of the strong whisky he purchased afore they left Diamond Lake, the dwur wiped the liquor from his beard with a grin.
"I've drunk! NOW WE FIGHT!"
Charging toward the first ranks, the enraged dwur slammed into their warriors, hammer cracking scaled limbs, and when none were presented to him, sundering shields and weapons. Every time he seemed to be at the point of being overrun by the lizard-folk, they would be thinned and routed by precision of divine arrows, devastating magicks, and the dancing cuts of a familiar fauchard.
Before he knew it the red-mist was gone... hammer-head and hands slick with the ichor and black viscera of his foes. He found himself standing, panting and tired, with his armour and boots soaked with sweat, liquor and his own blood.
In the distance of his mind, Markus' words registered, and the spent dwur nods...
"Am gud brother... just have a damn'ed thirst to be slaked! Har!"
A little hungry...
Senniki fires into the mass of lizardmen before the soldiers reach their ranks. Standing near Lucid and Allustan in case any of them break free he continues to support the soldiers, as well as Markus and Sverrir as needed. He continuously scanned the battlefield looking for the right moment to send an arrow taking out a lizardman trying to flank one of his friends.
In the end of the battle, he looked for those wounded he could aid with what skill he had. Exhausted, he could not do much more than nod at Markus's question.
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Lucid rides with the cargo, being much too small to want to ride a horse. He is quite happy jarring along and discovering new caches of foodstuff in the wagon to sample. He offers to spell the driver on easier stretches of the road and in general tries to remain alert for any dangers.
As the group arrives at the keep and learn that it is under attack Lucid breaks out his new move powerful spells. He is quick to act (+7 Init) and manages to haste the party before they are separated in the chaos of battle. His spell allows those who wish to close to move as fast as the soldiers horses, bolster their ability to dodge enemy attacks, and allow them to make twice as many attacks once engaged. His second spell is a bead of fire that arcs over the battlefield traveling up to 600' feat before striking among the densest group of enemies and burning them badly.
He encourages his team to move closer to the gate so that he can cast a stinking cloud in front of it. This spell sickens and nauseates the enemy there for as long as they remain in it and for precious rounds after all the enemy can do is retch and move away.
After this multiple pits are created strategically to help control the battlefield and anywhere the enemy seemed to be winning the day they found themselves suddenly blinded with a silvery sheen of glittering dust while enemy leaders were targeted with barrages of magic missiles. Any time an enemy got too close Lucid used his dimensional step ability to move away. When pressed too closely he cast a Shield spell to help his Ac to 23 for a few rounds.
A good showing, all... I'm glad we could help. Fewer lives lost is my hope. It may gain us credibility as well.
And, bravo... Lucid. Seems you've unlocked a little bit of fire channeling. You caught nearly ten with that trick. Awesome, indeed.
With the appearance of reinforcements and the liberal use of flashy magic, the lizardman assault is quickly turned aside. As the tide of battle turns against them, the lizardfolk break off their attack and scatter back into the high grass the marks the transition into the Mistmarsh. None of the soldiers that accompanied you are unscathed and three have paid the ultimate price in the defence of the keep.
You and the surviving soldiers regroup and, collecting the fallen, move towards the main entrance. As you near, you get a better look at the battered remains of the main gate and the pilled refuse that now blocks the way. A rope ladder has been lowered from one of the keeps balconies to allow for entrance inside.
Alustan stands above you and looks out grimly over the Mistmarsh. "Friends," he calls down, "I fear that we were a little too late in our arrival. During the initial assault, the lizardmen were able to break through the main gate and make off with several captives before they were pushed back. I fear that Marzena was one of those taken in the initial attack. I believe that with my aid and these other brave men, we should be able to hold off any further attacks, if only long enough for more reinforcements to arrive. My fear if that there may not be much time left for those that were taken earlier today. You have done so much already and I am sure that you are weary, but I would ask that you go after the raiders and save those that you can before they end up inside and cook pot."
Sver nudges Lucid as Markus issues his praise;
"Impressive majicks indeed! Will be most useful should we ever imbibe Flaming Wyrm cocktails! Har!"
The exhausted dwur's mood shifts however as they hear Alustan's ill-news...
Sverrir spits and hefts his ancestral mattock ;
"Best we get going then eh lads? We've folk to save and lizards to slay..."
I think he means right now...
Allustan nod, "Thank you my friends. The lizardmen and their captives were last seen heading off to the east, but the guardsmen tell me that this tribe is known to den several miles to the south of the keep. I don't know if you want to try and track the original party through the swamp or just head directly towards their lair. I don't know that it matters, but I will leave the choice up to you. I do know that these tribes usually only take prisoners as blood sacrifices and these rites are quite elaborate. Hopefully, you will have the time to free them. Good luck and Gods be with you."
Sverrir takes a swig from his flask, and nods in agreement;
'Blood sacrifices eh?! Feh. Bad business! Best we make haste then an' see if we ken pick up the trail... If we cannot then we head straight into their lair's toothy maw! Eh lads!"
The dwur will join any others in attempting to discern the trail of the scaly raiding party:
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Marshland is not friendly terrain... Does there exist an accurate map of the area?
Alustan shakes his head, "I don't think the area has ever been formally surveyed. The whole stinking swamp is filled with hostile lizardmen tribes, nasty beasties and even the odd roving band of undead. Few people have ever entered it and returned to tell the tale." He pauses for a second, "Oh, but I'm sure you'll all be fine."
Sverrir listens to Alustan's words then winks at the others;
"Few have returned eh Sage? Sounds like an invitation or a challenge! Har!"
Markus looks at the dwur, Holiday dinner... Roast beast and all the trimmings. Trudging is what destiny asks of us at the moment, Lucid.
I don't like it either. But, peoples' lives depend on us, brother. If we don't follow through, there may be naught left to return to.
Sverrir clasps the diminutive wizard's shoulder with a wide grin.
"Nae friend Lucid we'll not let you sink. For amongst us all you may be the shortest in stature, but perhaps the tallest in power eh?!"
The doughty dwur hefts his ancestral mattock to a shoulder, then nods;
"Do we make haste? Or prepare for the chase on the morrow?"
As soon as possible, Sver... Lucid, we can rig a harness if you're not against it.
Heading off towards the where the captives were last seen, you are able to pick up the tracks of a small group of individuals. The trail is clear as it makes its way through the tall marsh grass, but as the grass slowly thins and pools of murky water start to appear, the trail becomes more difficult to follow. You manage to keep finding sign and eventually it leads you to a small tree topped hillock that pokes up above the surrounds wet. Climbing up it, you find sign of a small camp.
A large number of individuals had been camped here. Some of the sign is fresh, but others are days old.
You find the trail again heading, this time swing towards the south. You notice that the size of the party you are tracking has grown substantially.
You find a small package that has been stuffed in a hole at the base of the tree. It contains 3 healer kits worth of supplies and 2 potions
Sverrir moves with the rest of the group, keen to catch the raiders but cautious of missing any clues to their location and distance ahead...
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The canny dwur draws his companions attention first to the multitude of tracks and prints that intermix with the trail they need to follow;
Many o' them were camped here lads... our raiders met up with them and gained far more company that before... Will be a tough scrap when we catch up to them..."
He then stops and points to a hollow at the base of a nearby tree;
"Something jammed there... might be worth a looks eh?"