Swordthrust--Memories of an Elder Ice Titan (Inactive)

Game Master Chainmail

Cole smiles to himself upon seeing the signature of Merrie Seems apt, given her nature.

Looks like we don't have much choice huh? he signs with simple penmanship, and then waits for further instructions.

"We could always walk away my good friend" - Terion winks at Cole - "But why should we?" - he adds with a broad grin, as he signs the document.

Lamriel pauses, the quil hovering over the page.

"Just how many suits of silver armor are there? I don't want to spend the rest of my days in packing and shipping."

Before anyone can answer, it becomes evident Lamriel was only thinking aloud, as he shrugs and puts pen to paper.

The money is good, but there is more to the world and life than money. It is good to fight by your side though my friend. Cole smiles up towards Terion, for him the man is a giant, about as immovable as one too

Bizzlemont steps up and signs his name. Those coming after him note the wizard seems to have written out his full gnomish name. Bizzlemont Brometheus Brighton Bequethom Bantish of the clan Blacktop.

Closer inspection shows a small rodent's paw print as well. With a crude 'R' written beside it.

"First of all..." begins Morlean as he opens up a locked bookcase and removes an ancient scroll..."...let me fill you in on the legends!"

"These legends say in the time of the Elder Gods before the race of men, an Ice Titan whose name is forgotten, was sorely troubled with the problem of good vs evil. he built an ice blue fortress, high up in the mountains where he could look across the world and see the whole of the civilized world. Whereupon he laid himself down within its frigid halls and fell into a deep sleep of contemplation. It is said he is now deciding whether to aid good or evil in the coming time of men."

He produces a rough, brittle drawing of a suit of armor. He highlights and checks off the left vambrace, leaving nine pieces to go.

"It is there you will find the nine other pieces of the silver armor and all the treasure you can carry. This armor is cursed and saps forever the life of those who wear it. I cannot undo its effects, nor, can anyone alive today."

"The entire mountain has been carved into a fortress. I have reason to believe it has been taken over by a strange race of intelligent reptiles known as Durges. They hold a race of bird people called Fantsies enslaved, forcing them to toil in the catacombs endlessly. The durges have infested the mountainside with goblins and other vile creatures to keep out the miners. There is an extremely dangerous band of winter wolves roaming the mountain."

"Your task is difficult. I suggest you try not to complete it with one visit. Be the like a penetrating SWORDTHRUST, entering and withdrawing quickly and decisively."

The old, portly wizard opens a pouch.
"You will enter by the West Face through a mystical portal on the rim of the crown. You will knock with a ring I give you and climb with the boots of climbing I have made. The boots will last five trips to and from the mountain--that will have to be enough."

You are all give a set of boots. Jalla looks around, and before he can pick someone, Merrie snatches a gleaming gold ring with glowing runes.

Morlean looks earnest and steeples his hands dramatically: "I must caution you about the Fantsies. They are the last of a dying race of avian people. They are nonviolent and barely able to defend themselves. I urge you to protect them from harm and save them from captivity."

"Are there any other provisions you require? Jalla has procured you rooms in town at the inn for the duration."

Given the long speech and the hard night, anyone failing a Fort DC 12 save has dozed off during Morlean's speech.

If anyone dozes off, Morlean makes a gesture and the slapping of a large, invisible hand hitting their face can be heard throughout the entire room and a red handprint is left. Those hit definitely wake up. His anger is obvious as he states: "I expect some attention. This advice could save your lives!"

Merrie FORT 12: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4

Grabbing her face, Merrie flushes in her face and instinctively draws a dagger. Feeling self conscious, she stares daggers at Cole and Terion.

Fort: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11

zzzzzzzzz

Morlean adds: "We'll meet you early tomorrow in front of the inn, Jalla and I. We'll take you to the Crown. Obviously you are tired from your trip here."

RECAP:
After meeting a red-headed, beautiful woman at a crossroads inn, the group agreed to escort her to Ferraburgh to complete her mission. Ambushed by a priest and a horde of goblins, the party was victorious suffering but two vicious slashes to the gnome wizard.

Delivering the silver bracelet to the wizard Morlean, the diviner who knows where to mine for ore, they are tasked to recover the rest of the silver armor suit from the Titan's Crown, a legendary mountain with evil reptiles that have enslaved the peaceful bird creatures.

"Indeed. I assure you, it was many hours on the road, not a lsck of interest, that brought me helplessly to sleeps door."

Fort Save: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10

As hard as Cole attempts to stay away, it is too much of an effort even for him, and thus he too dozes into a stupor until his awakening.

After said doze, he retires early to the bedchambers, ensuring that he and Gnasher get a decent nights sleep after making sure all wounds were tended too. He awakens with an empty stomach, and a great desire to get the job done.

Fortitude Save: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19

Terion struggles against the man's discourse, and is able to stay awake, startled only momentarily by the invisible slap, his hand going for the weapon immediately - "What the heck?!" - then relaxing with a frown as he realizes it was some minor magical effect, shaking his head at the whole thing.

"Are there any other provisions you require? Jalla has procured you rooms in town at the inn for the duration."

"Actually yes, there are a few other things that we need, that I can remember off the top of my head - could you direct us to a good establishment where we can acquire both travelling provisions and gear, as well to where we would be able to find a weaponry specialist?" - Terion comments.

----------------------------------------

When there is an opportunity, he addresses Merrie - "Look here girl, before we were on the road working for you, so you kinda made the rules - since you were paying after all" - he then gives her a stern look - "But now you are not in charge anymore, so you don't go ahead assuming this or that role without talking to everyone around here first"

He leans a tad closer - "That being said, please hand over that ring to Cole for safekeeping for the time being, as it is not actually yours, but instead it is to be used by the group - our good friend the halfling can be entrusted with it until we decide, later tonight, who will be carrying the thing around - sounds good enough?" - he adds without skipping a beat, and without blinking.

Merrie snaps back at Terion:
"It is not mine, but you must take it out of my possession and give it to another?"

Merrie flushes red again and is about to unleash a tirade when Morlean put up a single finger and waves it side to side. She closes her mouth and hands over the ring.

Then Morlean replies to Terion: "Make a list of basic supplies and Jalla and I will meet you at the inn."

Before he dismisses you he turns to Merrie. "I have other tasks for you around town. I will send the dwarf you recommended with this group. I was warned about your temper and independence. Do not worry, you will still make plenty of gold!"

Morlean turns to Jalla: "Finish the pardon paperwork and get the dwarf over to the inn tonight."

Cue Logan's dwarf--- note he is being pardoned with influence from Morlean for some crime of your choosing that upset the local miners and merchants.

[ooc]

Fort Save: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9

Bizzlemont is snoring loudly before long and the slam on the table startles the little gnome. "Wha-! What was that-" He cuts off as the older Wizard glares at him. "I was just meditating," he says matter-of-factly.

As the others take their supplies, Bizzlemont grabs a pair of boots. "Well, find some cursed armor from the ancient halls of an Ice Titan. Sure, piece of cake." He follows the others to the inn.

"I'm not used to such grand ventures. What supplied do you all think we should request?"

Terion nods as Merrie moves away, growling under his breath - "Better like that - beautiful that one, but greedy as heck"

As they travel back to the inn, Terion addresses the provisions listing with his companions, and Lamriel in particular - "From the top of my head, we'll need at least climbing gear - yeah, yeah, I know we have the ring and the boots, but I'd rather be prepared - rations, cold weather garb, and a few other tidbits"

Pondering for a moment, he adds - "Is it within your power to protect us against cold? Also, I was wondering - I am definitely not a scholarly type but... What do you know of this place? Any idea of the kind of resistance we may find? What the heck are Durges and Fantsies? And what is a Winter Wolf capable of?" - shooting a string of questions at his more knowlegeable fellow adventurers - "All of that would be useful information in my book"

Food and climbing gear at the very least seems like a reasonable kit list. As for the other questions, I am afraid that goes beyond my own understanding of the world. I suspect the winter wolves are probably magical in nature, otherwise they would just be known as normal wolves surely. Cole shrugs, and then begins eating, once again giving some of the best cuts of meat to Gnasher.

Knowledge, Nature, take 10: 10 + 9 = 19
Knowledge, Arcana, take 10: 10 + 10 = 20
Knowledge, Local, take 10: 10 + 9 = 19

Durges, Fantasies, and Winter wolves have to fall into one of those categories, right?

Bizzle scrunches up his face, trying to think if he's ever heard of those creatures before.

These Fantsies sound like marvelous creatures...

Durges and fantsies do not trigger any memories.

Bizzlemont explains that winter wolves are less exotic and there is lore about them. "Winter wolves are larger, smarter, more ferocious variants of the largest wolves with white fur and a deadly breath weapon."

Later, a dwarf reports for duty at the inn. It appears he was interested in signing on. He mentions an irate red-headed woman handed him some climbing boots and told him to show them up his arse.

Not up for much but sleeping after the goblin vigil, the group has a large breakfast at the inn and Morlean and Jaffa arrive to partake of a quick specialty of the inn. Large holes are poked in bread so sausages and egg can be further baked inside large loaves and served.

Morlean and Jaffa have a wagon loaded with the supplies requested and are going to ride you for two days close to the Titan's Crown.

Morlean explains he is protecting you from the cold and the wagon has a set of winter clothes for each of you in it.

Time to update the character sheets and track resources. Spells are refreshed, be sure to note those learned. Make sure to track expended uses of climbing boots and ring. EDIT: Terion insisted Cole be given the ring, he has it.

I forgot, is Merrie still holding the ring?

Nope, Cole has said ring now.

"Ah, good. Well played my friend."

Enter the dwarven cleric...

A disheveled dark-bearded dwarf with a recently clean shaven pate stumps up to group as they finish eating their breakfast...

"By all the good gods it's abominably cold...(are you going to finish that bread, little man?)" **stuffs a chunk of bread in his mouth; remainder of speech is a garbled jumble interspersed with spraying bread crumbs**"...in these harsh, unforgiving lands. I had to take two nips from my favorite brandy last night just to stave off the chill. **a low belch erupts as he finishes this thought**

"So, this spell slinger fellow says were to find a bunch of cursed armor in a frozen fortress? Who sets about to intentionally make cursed armor, I ask you?!? Ah, well, no accounting for wizards, I always say. Half of them spend their time cavorting with demons and devils and those are the sane ones. And what's this about a bunch of lizard people fighting with a pack of bird men? I must be half mad myself to be rushing off into this venture." He pauses and looks around the assembled group for a moment, trying to take their measure.

"Oh! Name's Xanthar Hammerhand, by the way, warrior-priest of Torag by trade. I hope to put ole Ingril here (at this he pats the head of a massive waraxe at his side) to good use in the coming days. Never met a problem that couldn't be solved with a few taps from Ingril."

Bizzlemont looks up incredulously at the uncouth dwarf who has taken his last piece of bread. And the heel too! A crusty piece of heel was a small pleasure!

"Well, Hammerhead, I hope you're ten time as good with that axe as you are with your brains." He takes his spectacles and wipes them. "As for cursed armor, perhaps we wizards simply enjoy making you muscle-bound types actually think about where you want a new piece of shiny armor or not. Nothing I would make, of course, but then I try to hold back from cavorting with demons! Instead, I have this lot." He looks over the group, realizing he was the only master of the arcane here.

"Welcome to the group, I suppose."

Lamriel is a bit of a foodee and finds the prospect of a local specialty enticing.

"Do these travel well, Jaffa? I would like to bring a loaf on the wagon."

Completely unfazed by the gnome's acidic retort and adopting his most annoyingly condescending tone Xanthar replies, "Now, now, no need to blow your top, my firey-haired friend. I wasn't aware that any spell slingers were present. Didn't mean to give offense. Care for a wee dram of my private stock of brandy as a peace offering? Mind the 'backwash', though." He offers the flask to the gnome and continues to the group in general, "Are you lot of lollygaggers ready to get underway? Best way to stay warm in these frigid climes is to keep moving."

Having stuffed yet another large chunk of the greasy meat and egg laden bread into his gob, Xanthar rises and begins a thorough examination of his pack to ensure he has everything necessary for the journey.

Cole tucks in heartily, making sure that Gnasher eats as much of his fill as he is capable of.

Hammerhand eh? Rather use it against the enemies than against me he quips, but otherwise leaves the Dwarf to his own devices, unsure where he fits into the group just yet.

Once he and Gnasher are full, they quickly get everything they own into the wagon and get ready to move on and be the protectors that they have been hired to be.

The gnome takes the dwarf's peace offering and looks at it skeptically. Some sort of moonshine, probably. Still, he downs a gulp and come up coughing. He adjusts his glasses and nods his head at the dwarf. "Much obliged, sir. Welcome to our little band of troublemakers."

So, just an OOC note regarding supplies - I am assuming the boots of climbing are like a ring of climbing? Providing +5 to climb checks? Cole, if I remember correctly, you should be carrying a Bag of Holding around? Could that be used to store some of our provisions in the shape of trail rations - we could perhaps keep 2 days worth on each of ourselves, and add... say... 8 more per character to the bag, would that be too much?

Terion will grab a cold weather outfit, a climber's kit, and, if possible, 6 additional trail rations.

"Winter wolves are larger, smarter, more ferocious variants of the largest wolves with white fur and a deadly breath weapon."

"Breath weapon you say..? Let me take a wild guess - something to do with cold?" - the warrior questions additionally - "Just keep that information coming my friend, anything that will help us stay alive" - he claps the gnome on his shoulder - "And while we are on this note, you have anything in your magical arsenal that could protect us against this... Breath weapon? Or perhaps something we can shop around town for? Or perhaps from our employer? He seemed to be able to place some resources at our disposal..." - he adds.

"Well met then Xanthar, and if you are half mad then you have come to the right place indeed" - the huge man laughs - "One thing I can guarantee you - those of us that have managed to survive during the past few months, have already quite some tales to tell, so if you can stand on your feet till this is finished, you'll probably get some yourself" - he adds.

"I am Terion, you and your friend Ingril are welcome to join our band if you so wish - have you received some preliminary information as to what our intent is?" - he adds finishing his meal, downing his mead and standing up - "We're about ready yes. You surely seem eager to get this moving along - I always heard it was bad business to have a vexed dwarf in your company so... Lets go!" - he finishes with a smile.

Lamriel nods.

"Yes, they breathe extreme cold. We're not talking about the kind that you can hide behind a think coat either." He thinks for a bit. "Yes, there's a spell that can protect us from a certain amount of it. It's relatively short term, but it could be a real difference. Let me see what I can find around town. Or maybe Morlean can help us. Fortinado, might be able to protect us with the same spell too."

The gnome stands and introduces himself to the newcomer. "Bizzlemont Blacktop, of the Moorwenth Blacktops. Good to meet you Xanthar."

Later Bizzlemont goes in search of some Resist Energy scrolls. He asks Morlean if he knows the spell too.

"Hmm... I may be able to use such a spell as well, though not as easily as you. I once studied with a wizard. If you find a source, I will purchase one or two myself."

Diplomacy for gather information?

Versatile Performance: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29

Bizzlemont also checks for any Endure Elements scrolls.

Not to be outdone, Xanthar bows in response to the gnome's introduction, "Xanthar Hammerhand of the Dragonspire Hammerhand's at your service and your family's."

Hmmm...seems a decent enough fellow. A wizard AND a gnome?!? Either one is usually trouble, put them together and you're practically begging for disaster.

To the strapping human warrior he replies jovially, "Aye, my dad always said, 'Xan, if there's bad business to be done, best do it quickly'. Of course, he was usually refering to spending time with my ma's ma. Still, I think with you and that giant cleaver on a stick you're lugging around we can hope to make short work of any who stand in our way. Let's away, young Terion, to fortune and glory!"

1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20 Fortitude Save

Fornitado stays alert despite the droll monologue, and the warm room. He listens as he is want to do, only interjecting now and again.

"I can create some holy scrolls to help protect one from the elements, but can probably only manage a couple every evening...depending upon available down time". Perhaps I could skip my turn at watch, and craft a few scrolls every evening". "If you wish to provide me with the raw materials I shall endeavor to do as I might".

Endure Elements, Level 1 Clerical spell, 2-hours to create.

To the strapping human warrior he replies jovially, "Aye, my dad always said, 'Xan, if there's bad business to be done, best do it quickly'. Of course, he was usually refering to spending time with my ma's ma. Still, I think with you and that giant cleaver on a stick you're lugging around we can hope to make short work of any who stand in our way. Let's away, young Terion, to fortune and glory!"

Terion laughs at the dwarfs' joke - "I'll do my best Master Hammerhand... I'll do my best" - he retorts - "Fortune and Glory you say - I can live with that! Lets get this moving then boys and girls"

Turning to Fornitado - "If you think that will make our lives easier while trekking through the mountains, I am all for it - don't really know what material you need but I've got some cash I was saving for a rainy... or snowy day" - he smiles openly.

The search for scrolls goes poorly in town given the limited time. Morlean and Jaffa arrive the next day and Morlean and Jaffa have each prepared a scroll of protection from elements. They plan to scribe another while camping the next night.

When the group convenes the next day, Strang is missing. Rather than wait for him, Morlean insists on getting a move on it. The wagon is driven by horses with room for four others inside a cozy cabin. Your supplies are loaded on board.

Two scrolls of protection from elements.

Buried somewhere deep in the supply wagon, a moan of pain somehow escapes into cold mountain air. With a clanking of empty bottles, Strang inches his way upright.

"Uhr... wha's'a madd'r wi' th' bed...?" he asked crossly through thick lips. Taking in his surroundings, his red and blood-shot eyes widen to see they were under way.

"Aww, crap... why didn't anyone warn me we were leaving?!"

Shucking on a coat and breeches from among the winter clothing supplies, his debarkation from the wagon is most accurately described as "controlled fall" than any sort of graceful maneuver.

"Hey, Terion," he greets his closest friend. "Hold this for me, m'kay?" he 'orders', thrusting a mostly-consumed bottle of the cheapest rot-gut liquor anyone had the misfortune of catching a whiff of.

Not waiting to see if Terion actually did so, he steps off the trail... and reappears a minute later, and takes a few hustling steps before sloppily "falling in" with the rest of the company.

The search for scrolls goes poorly in town given the limited time. Morlean and Jaffa arrive the next day and Morlean and Jaffa have each prepared a scroll of protection from elements. They plan to scribe another while camping the next night.

When the group convenes the next day, Strang is missing. Rather than wait for him, Morlean insists on getting a move on it. The wagon is driven by horses with room for four others inside a cozy cabin. Your supplies are loaded on board.

Two scrolls of protection from elements.

Fornitado was going to make scrolls as well

As the group prepares to leave, Merrie gets Morlean's attention. He leans down and he whispers in his ear.

Morlean turns his attention to the group. "You are well provisioned. I will have to leave you to make your way to the mountain alone. Merrie, Jalla and I have urgent business in town. Be sure to come my house as soon as you are back."

The wagon is pulled by two large chestnut horses and it is easy to find the way to the largest mountain peak. Camping the first night, the howl of wolves can be heard. An eerie chorus of barks and howls that echo throughout the night. A few look around the camp and make a quick patrol, but not a single wolf is sighted.

You break camp and head out. At noon Strang spots a single wolf about three times the size of a normal wolf on a peak about a half mile away. It seems to be watching your passage with interested eyes of the deepest white. The arctic fur stands out against the background of the deep blue sky.

Morlean and Jaffa make one scroll each (@CL1) plus two from Fornitado = 4 total scrolls of protection from elements

"Well, that's a big doggie and no mistake. D*man its eyes! That is an ill omen to be sure."

Must be one of those winter wolves we were warned about. Still, we don't have much choice other than to press on. Just keep your bow close, and the arrows loose in their quivers. Cole looks at the creature interested in it, but not aggressive.

"Meh, bring it on - I could use me a wolf pelt to keep warm in this crap," Strang opines in observation of the cold mountain air.

Polar Vortex!

Bizzlemont buys a Cold Weather Outfit and some alchemist fires (4)

Knowledge, Arcana: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (10) + 10 = 20

The gnome shifts his glasses up to peer at the beast. "I think that would be one of them, yes." He pulls his furs tighter.

As the party winds up path and approaches a cave on the right a man dressed in white furs steps out with three wolves and attempts to speak with the party. The party is about fifty feet from the man and wolves. He is carrying a shortsword and is definitely wearing some armor under his furs. His hair is slightly greying and his wolves seem protective and look at you with menace.

It appears he is beginning to parley.

I have placed the man and his wolves on the map and Terion. Please place the party on the map.

Similar to the priest, he seems to want to speak to you.

Cole makes sure that his sword is ready, but otherwise makes no aggressive move, willing to hear the man out.

Good day, what brings you out onto these mountains in this kind of weather?

Strang takes advantage of the temporary halt to take a swig from his bottle. It wasn't so much that he was disinterested in what was going on, as recognizing that he was... unsuited, to peaceful negotiation.