You disembark a few hours later, and with the promise of a quick method of travel on the morning, you find no real reason to push very hard. You feel bad even taking the horses offered, it seems they have breathed the stone dust of demolition so much their lungs are likely bleeding internally...wheezing like hot dogs.
The trail promising to reach the first supply chain encampment is barren...none ever really have much reason to ever take this eastern path, to dare approach the legendary Ironfang Keep. Combined with the trade disruptions the disaster in Mulmaster has brought about, it is a veritable trail of ghosts. Even local wildlife seems to be giving Mulmaster a wide berth, with nary a sound of chipmunk or bluejay.
The silence becomes a bit maddening really, and it is well past sundown yet the first Thayan camp hasn't been reached. Perhaps you may as well camp here.
"So, what's our watch order going to be, and are we going with a massive fire or no fire?" asks Szasa as she again brings out her portable hole and climbs down into it, retrieving the tent she got as part of the supplies from Mulmaster, as well as asking Falko to help her haul out a bed, which she puts in one corner of the tent. She then pulls out another set of clothes from one of the chests of drawers and changes in the hole before coming back out and collapsing down her hole again.
Finlogan paces out an enormous sleeping area. "What I understand is that the Thayans are the primary ones providing significant support to rebuild Mulmaster. The Thayans got their proverbial hands damaged in a trap while exploring a Netherese site with probably horrible intentions. The Thayans are leveraging their "humanitarian" aid in Mulmaster AND the threat that their trap could infect all of Faerun to ask us to become their Netherese archaeologists. Did I miss anything?"
"I want to Commune with Nature while you have your suppers. I've extra Goodberries if you don't like the food."
|
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
”A sound summary.” Lindaer unconsciously touched his ring of warmth, glad that he had the magical item. The cold had always bothered him. ”I, for one, care little for the politics of the region. Regardless of the intentions of the Thayans, what matters is that there truly does appear to be an evil that we need to face.”
While setting up camp, he said ”I recommend that myself and Finlogan he allowed to trance first. Unlike regular sleep we will have no trouble beginning the meditation. After four hours we will be fully rested, and can keep watch over everyone else while you all sleep. Both of us are able to see in the dark, and I have an Ioun Stone that protects me from being surprised. It should prove effective.”
”Also, is there anyone here who needs assistance seeing in the dark? Because if so, I have a moontouched shortsword. It creates light as if though it were a torch when unsheathed. Even if you don’t wield it, having it on you could provide useful.”
Daryl unpacks his belongings, and lays out his humble sleeping mat. He gives thanks to Enlil for their safe arrival, and asks for his protection during the evening.
"I am accustomed to going to sleep with the coming darkness, and rising before dawn to complete my prayers. If it is acceptable I would take last watch as well, as I'll be up anyway. Perhaps others could take the early watch"?
|
|
Lindaer sighed. ”Again...”
First Watch: 2 wood elves, druid and cleric. They trance for 4 hours. Get all spells back, and are good to go. Then the rest of the party sleeps while the elves stand watch.The wood elves both have Darkvision and high perception. Also Lindaer has an Ioun Stone that makes him immune to being surprised
This way we don’t need complicated watch schedules. Everyone gets enough uninterrupted sleep as well
[/spoiler]”...does that sound sufficient for our needs?”
Tarn listens to Falko's concerns as he lays out his bedroll and gnaws on a piece of spicy...really spicy...camel jerky.
"Cursing these Thayans, will certainly be a good place to start, my large, cheese loving friend." He says sweat beading on his forehead as he chews the dried meat. "But, I for one do not make this journey for these heathens who desecrate the dead. No, not that for certain." He pops another piece of jerky into his mouth. "No, I mostly fight because this threat could someday reach my homeland and it would be better to stop it now."
Slipping the banner of Mulmaster from his pack, the goblin unrolls it and ponders the simple cloth for a few moments, his eyes seemingly lost someplace else. "As for Mulmaster, those people seem to have suffered greatly, much like my lands long, long ago. Right now the only thing offering them a chance to survive are the Thayans. Fate, through the Grand Caliph, brought me to that city. Certainly one reason is to join this quest. But I think another is that by helping them, by providing an alternative to those heathen overlords, they could be willing to open their hearts and minds to a new way of living. One more in line with the Loremaster's teachings. And that could result in new trade and learning possibilities with my land." He rolls the banner back up and slips it back into the pack. "It is an interesting thought."
He mops the sweat from his head with a small towel. "As for the watch, I am available for any since I've no trouble seeing and moving in the dark."
A trap.
Your mind becomes locked in a wave of psychic torment, the birds face warps and twists into the black and red grimace of a powerful baatezu...an overlord of Nessu, the final layer of Hell. It mocks your ritual, laughs at it as it despoils your connection to the area...its area.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Chuckling softly as he sips from his waterskin, Tarn nods his head. "I have spent little time in these northern realms, and it saddens me to hear that those like me are treated with such disdain and revulsion. I remember reading about such things during my academy days, but did not truly understand how....backward the north is until now."
He pulls out a deck of cards, finely made but worn with use. Shuffling them with deft and nimble expertise he then lays out a game of solitaire and continues his musings.
"Do not misunderstand me, my land is not a perfect diamond. We've our own squabbles, sheiks who reach too far, sha'ir who violate the Loregivers basic laws, not too mention the ever-touchy djinn." He casually rubs a small scar at the top of his right ear. "But overall things are more peaceful and all peoples more tolerant regardless of being elf, dwarf, goblin, or gnoll. All trade, share stories, worship, and are generally equal within the Caliph's realms."
He plays a red seven of wands on a black eight of cups. Then moves the black jack of swords onto the queen of pentacles. "With that equality comes opportunity. Opportunity that allows one to achieve their full potential. To even marry a princess." He adds with a sly grin to Falko as his eyes flip back and forth between the barbarian and Szasa while he drops a six of swords onto the red seven.
While everyone else is mostly relaxing, the wood elf hierophant finishes his first ten minute ritual. He stretches his arms and calmly walks over to the group. "We've company soon. A powerful baatezu...an overlord of Nessu, the final layer of Hell, is coming from up ahead on the path to the first Thayan camp."
He starts casting another spell.
Sighing, Szasa asked "So how far away is this creature?"
She then starts storing her camp back into her portable hole.
"About three miles that way toward where we're going." the wood elf heirophant replies after completing his spell that lets him see a few seconds into the future.
With a sigh, Tarn begins picking up the cards as the others break camp. Was just about to lose anyway.
"Well, it didn't take long for something big and bad to show up." He says rolling his bedroll back up and stuffing it back in his haversack and pulling out his trusty flying carpet. Hovering a half dozen paces in the air over the camp, he watches with amusement as Szasa orders...errr...asks Falko to lug her bed and chest of drawers back into her little pocket dimension. Followed by her tent, cookware, and whatever other frippery those of the fairer sex always managed to deem essential on long journeys.
Giving the big barbarian a friendly wave, the little goblin chuckles while enjoying his currently domestic-chore-free situation. Demons, devils, and world threatening undead curses aside. I'd rather be dealing with those than back in the palace 'helping' Khadi rearrange her study for the fiftieth time.
Once everyone is ready to go, Tarn will take up a scouting position a hundred feet in front of the group. Pulling a small ioun stone from his pouch he sends it circling around his head as drifts along slowly, staying just above the tree tops to avoid being silhouetted by any stars or moonlight.
"Yes, I do!" she calls out from within her portable hole.
Much like Falko, Szasa is ready within 5 minutes as well.
As they get closer to the Thayan camp, Tarn watches for any sign of hellish nastiness from his flying perch.
From his perch atop the enchanted camel hair, Tarn is the first to see the...'arrangement'. A number of young women, in turn splayed, flayed, and dismembered lie at the 5 points of a geometric pattern drawn in blood. At the middle of the magic circle, 2 still glowing piles of magma slowly cool...the smell of sulfur carries on the wind even up there.
A brass offering bowl lie tipped and empty...something has partaken, has darkly devoured its contents. Yes, a calling was made...and the call was answered.
The sound of screaming and explosions comes from just ahead.
"I swear to the gods, I will turn this walk around!" should Szasa before laughing at Falko's comment.
"Yay, cultists. If it's one thing I love more than killing bandits, it's killing cultists." said Szasa as the group came across the scene of a summoning.
There's a carefree 'belch' from behind a tree, and soon the party discovers a little imp...a very fat little imp, gorged on human flesh no doubt. It sits there picking its teeth with a sharpened femur, and startles at your approach. It flaps its tiny wings furiously, but its stomach is soooo full it barely moves an inch, nailed to the ground like a discarded sack of potatoes (evil potatoes).
It grunts as if constipated for a few moments, then vanishes.
"I got something tasty for you, you little b@#$@$d!" shouts Szasa as she drops a Fireball on the location it was right before it disappeared.
The forest around the vanished, plump imp erupts into a smokey blaze...everything within a 20 ft radius is quickly reduced to smoldering ash. It would probably take 20 years before another oak set its shade upon this patch of land...
...but as for the imp, you just hear a giggle rising to outright laughter echoing all around "Degamos will find you most unworthy..."
"Well, aren't you lucky. You should probably leave while you can."
"...er...very well, off I go. *flap flap flap*"
|
|
Lindaer frowned, feeling foolish. Once more he had used his power when it wasn’t strictly needed and now he was without it. If he hadn’t healed the gnome, then he would have had the mental fortitude needed to call upon his Lord for True Sight. But he couldn’t...and now there was the potential for much greater harm to even more people. The familiar pant of guilt went through him. Slowly he stepped for his carpet and fell to his knees.
* Beginning at 10th level, you can call on your deity to intervene on your behalf when your need is great.
* Imploring your deity's aid requires you to use your action. Describe the assistance you seek, and roll percentile dice. If you roll a number equal to or lower than your Cleric level, your deity intervenes. The DM chooses the Nature of the intervention; the effect of any Cleric spell or Cleric domain spell would be appropriate. If your deity intervenes, you can't use this feature again for 7 days. Otherwise, you can use it again after you finish a Long Rest.
” Rillifane Rallathil, hear your humble servant, for the need is great and my strength is lacking. Please, grant my prayer. Show us where the foe hides and allow my companions and I to see through the illusions and the trickery of the demonic foe. Grant this not for me, for I am proven once more unworthy of the proper use of your gifts. Grant this not for any glory or praise that I might receive, for such is as meaningless as the changing of the leaves and is just as transitory as the seasons. No, I beseech thee to grant this boon, for the Old Enemy is here, and if we do not halt them then many more will suffer and many a soul will be lost. Please, grant us the power to make right which is wrong.
He fervently prayed for his Lord to grant them a miracle.
Insight
"Well where that one is there will be more. We must focus on the task at hand, and not be distracted by those who have little ability to harm us. Next time point out the subject, and Enlil can possibly force them to speak only the truth".
Finlogan shakes his head at the damage wrought to the forest. It will grow back, but it was so unnecessary. There's no point in saying anything to the sorcerer. She is as controllable as the storm that strikes with lightning.
He waves his hand toward the imp causing a purple explosion of light to erupt.
"Does the name Degamos mean anything to anyone?" the hierophant asks casually.
Puzzled, Tarn looks around at his companions for several moments wondering if they've been ensorcelled in some way. But no, apparently the imps rather feeble attempt to bluff seemed to be working. Shaking his head the goblin draws his hand crossbow.
"Ummm. You all know he's still standing in the same spot right?" Tarn says. "I mean, wings don't really make flap, flap, flap sounds."
He points the crosbow where the imp is still standing and fires a bolt, hoping to at least draw a squeak of surprise from the demon.
"So, you did. I was distracted by the fireball in the forest." The hierophant replies to the barbarian.
Lindaer appeals to the gods for some assistance against this terrible imp. He hears a rustling of oak leaves from far away in his memory, and a single bright green sapling breaks through the ashes of Szasa's desolation. It grows rapidly to chest height, and the bud bursts open spraying magical motes of energy into the clerics eyes...the Leaflord has answered.
Finlogan casts his nature magics...
...and if the imp were truly there, it must be quite hardy against magical attacks indeed to resist such a mastered spell.
Tales of magical mortals interacting with this greater power are numerous and range from miraculous events of sudden insight that have generated new kingdoms to disastrous massacres that instantly ended generations of nobility...depending on how wise the summoner was.
In this case...its unclear who performed the summoning...perhaps someone had a chip on their shoulder and wanted revenge on the Red Wizards encamped nearby. Or perhaps one of the Red Wizards themselves is simply vying for a higher position, using these terrible baatezu as the instrument of their own ascendancy.
So, since that happened and its still invis, Tarn and Falko your attacks are at disadvantage. AC 13. Answer to Szasa incoming...
As Falko's maul bludgeons into the tiny creature, it becomes visible as its spine is compressed and snaps.
You immediately wish it hadn't.
Because, with a sickening *pop* the imp bloated and engorged on human flesh exploded in a shower of red. The imp itself dematerializing as it faded back across the 9 dimensions of Hell...leaving only these sick contents to shower down upon Falko.
More explosions and screaming still echo from just ahead...