It is a crisp autumn day as you step into the main hall of Castle Daggerdale, the first hints of winter on the air. The hall is warmly appointed with thick tapestries and fires banked in a pair of braziers next to the Lord of Daggerdale's table.
Lord Randal Morn looks up as you enter, expression serious as he beckons you closer. "I am pleased you could all be gathered on such short notice. Breldon Hamlet was raided last night--the current tally is eleven dead and fifteen mission. Winter is a few weeks away and the harvest needs to come in. People are starting to panic." He leans over the map covering his table and taps a spot in the Dagger Hills, three days' ride north of where you currently stand. "Our scouts were able to track these raiders--or more accurately, their captives--to a long-abandoned set of tombs known as the Dordrien Crypts. There was no hint of a connection to the Underdark there until recently. I suppose it's possible the drow carved out a new route, but frankly we don't know. I need you to find these dark elves and put an end to their depredations--if you can rescue our enslaved kin so much the better, but the drow are not known for treating their captives gently. Do what you can for them, but in my heart I fear the worst. How quickly can you set out?"
Elestar enters the room and strides up confidently, having set his backpack at the entrance and bearing no large weapons on his person. Tall and slim, he wears a dark brown woolen cloak of fine make over well worn but excellently tailored travelers leathers. A pair of leather-wrapped daggers sit on his hips and a small cased crossbow is sheathed at his right thigh.
Bowing politely to the Lord of Daggerdale, he awaits the request for assistance patiently.
"My lord, I will only need to acquire some additional travel rations. Do we have horses to ride, as I do not keep an animal myself."
As Jonuli enters the room he moves close to the brazier on his right and warms his hands. His shirt and pants have a golden color to them and he wears well worn boots. The hood on his green cloak is down exposing his golden blond hair. At his waist are a dagger and sling and several vials.
"Jonuli Mudarch at your service, Lord. I am ready to leave immediately. A horse would speed me along as well though I don't know what we would do with it if we head into the Underdark."
Saoirse pushes confidently through the door, striding for Randall Morn's side. Though she is not tall, she is fit and strong and holds a proud bearing. Her red hair cascades down the back of her forest-green cloak. Around the edges of her face are swirling blue tattoos, and a furred collar for her cloak provides framing. Her skin is pale and freckled, and her cheeks have a bit of blush to them. She wears a plain gray tunic with elven chain showing its shine underneath and an ox-leather belt with a dagger and a rod clipped to it. Burlap pants cover her legs and she walks easily on a comfortable, flexible pair of brown leather thigh-high boots. Like Elestar, she has left her backpack at the entrance.
She nods acknowledgment at Jonuli and Elestar. Both were confident and skilled warriors she would be glad to have at her side in the battle against the threat. "How long do you expect us to be gone, my Lord? If we are to simply visit this cave, rescue our people, and then return posthaste, I am ready to go now."
Stroking her chin, Saoirse amends her statement. "I believe I should have an hour or two to prepare, my Lord. After that, I will be ready to go. If we have people to rescue and bring back, we will need to make sure we have food and water enough for both ourselves and for them. I will fit as much as I can in my haversack."
When Wintyr enters the room, the air chills slightly. She is tall and thin, but the combination of her warm clothing and hunched posture make her height below average. She is young and beautiful, but strangeness abounds around her. Her breath is visible in the air, despite the temperate climate, and she seems like she's dressed for an arctic expedition. Her hair is long and silvery, almost white, and it seems to always be shifting slightly. A raw looking scar crosses over one eye, and the eye itself is clouded over with cataracts. A great raven perches upon one shoulder, and when she speaks it is curt.
"Well met. I too, will require rations, although I can provide transportation for our entire group; assuming our numbers do not exceed two score. I offer horses made of winter wind that do not tire, and a fine carriage of ice. Should that be amenable to everyone, I am prepared to set forth immediately."
She turns her gaze around the room, as she goes to stand next to Saorise. "Saoirse my dear! It has been far too long. I hope you've been keeping well?" In an instant, the carefully cultivated larger than life presence of Wintyr fades, and although all the supernatural elements still remain, for a moment it is clear that this is a young woman who is constantly posturing to maintain respect, and she is glad to see a friendly face.
Saoirse smiles sincerely and brightly, clasping arms with her friend. "I am healthy and hale, and I give thanks to the Morninglord. Thank you for asking. And you?"
"I'm glad you're here, my friend. I suspect we will have need of your rimed magic before this debacle is over."
"Magical ice horses and carriage? Color me interested, indeed. Will we need some additional cold-weather gear? My clothes and cloak are okay for fall temperatures, but if we're riding around in a carriage of ice, I might want some more fur in my attire.:
Nicodemus arrived last, a little out of breath and travel stained. His simple travel clothes are well worn and heavily patched. His bald head is tattooed with strange geomtric images which occasionally seem to move of their own accord. A small silver gray dragon perches on his shoulder. He gives a nod to Saoirse, Wintyr and Jonuli before limping over to warm himself by the fire. Even in its blazing light shadows seem to swirl around him and he squints against its brightness.
I apologise for my tardiness my Lord, I was delayed on the road. I fear I may have been followed and took several diversions. I have been poking my nose in where it is decidedly not wanted. These raids are no mere isolated incidents, nor even I think just the activities of one or two Houses. The Underdark seethes with rummours and supposition. Something major is in the offing and reliable infomation is hard to come by. Events seem to be emanatng from Marimydra, a drow city not far from here. It may be a civil war, an ascendant Matron Mother flexing her muscles or worse. Whatever it is I fear our investigations will go far beyond a small number of kidnapped villagers.
At Wintyr's suggestion of employing her icy minions he grins, I prefer to conjure my own shadowy transportation my dear but the offer is appreciated. I can also provide some protection for us on the journey if the weather proves inclement.
The small dragon perched on Nicodemus's shoulder yawns widely and launches himself into the room and straight towards the closest exit that leads to the kitchens.
"Were I younger and less restrained than I am now, perhaps cold weather garb would be essential. But I am wiser than I once was, and can control the cold. It will not freeze or chill your bones, merely carry you to your destination in comfort."
She turns to Saorise again, "No news about when Skell might return I'm afraid. And as winter draws near, the Mother's Call becomes harder to resist. Still, it does me good and warms my heart to see you, my friend!
"Well, then, it would appear we have quite a formidable set of adventurers here. My skills and tools, you ladies and your magic, Nicodemus, was it? You seem like another spell Caster if I'm not mistaken. And Jonuli is a blend of fighting and casting, as far as I remember. These foolish dark elves won't know what hit them."
Saoirse claps Wintyr on the shoulder with a further grin. Then she addresses Lord Morn again. "With your leave, I will go now to prepare for our journey. At least a week on the road, and battle against the wicked drow."
Then she turns back to her compatriots. "So, I'll meet you all at the city's northern gate in one hour. Does anyone want to accompany me for supplies? And do any of you have magic or ability to communicate over long distances? We could keep Lord Morn appraised of current events if so."
"I would be very pleased to accompany you to stock up on supplies. They say that two Haversacks are better than one. In addition, there is a trick that was once described to me as "scry and fry." I cannot fry, and nor would I want to, but about half the time I can create a powerful enough connection to be able to cast communication spells though the sensor. Some additional connection between myself and Lord Morn would be of service, although I understand that many have trepidations about giving locks of hair to a witch; and rightly so."
Jonuli nods to the ladies, "I will go with you as well. I can carry some too. A floating disk would be good for this. Load the food on it and it will follow us."
When her Lord seems to have no further information or instructions for her, Saoirse heads out. She has free pockets in her haversack that she can use to carry food, but not too much of it. Hopefully enough to feed her compatriots for the trip to the crypt and then feed any captives they might find once. It would be tricky, but hopefully her companions could hunt for provisions on the way back to Daggerdale.
She heads out into the town. Being fairly small and remote, there is not much available. Still. she knows a few things about where to find nice things, and knows that time on the road is smoother with pleasures.
A local beekeeper provides Saoirse with two jars of the sacred elixir known as honey. "Absolutely essential on the road," she adds by way of commentary. "It keeps, so you never regret buying it, and it can turn even the coldest hardtack into a treat."
A local distiller provides her with two bottles of their whiskey reserve. "Sometimes," she adds, "You just need to celebrate a victory."
Finally she visits a general store and picks up as much dried and preserved food as they can provide. She comes away with thirty pounds of salted fish, nuts, dried fruits, waxed cheeses and a few apples for the start of the road. She also gets an extra waterskin and fills it. For good measure she acquires a set of six small dice. "This is enough food for all of us for six days. If we push it and we have no failures, we'll be good for the trip there and back. Does anyone want to carry more? I don't like to run out of food."
All of her new acquisitions go into the side-pockets of her haversack. Her regular gear stays in the center pocket, and the side-pockets are just big enough to hold all of this new temporary gear.
As the talk continues Nicodemus mutters a simple enchantment and taps himself with a wand. He crouches down next to the fire and stares long into the flames, going very still. He retreats far into himself, driving away all distractions as he focuses on the question which now consumes his mind. Dordrien, Dordrien, unlock your secrets
In his minds eye his spirit travels far back along the ages, images playing out in his mind. He focuses to sort through the jumble of the past and make sense of its place in the here and now. As his reverie ends he slowly stands, blinking in the light. I'm sorry, did someone say something...
As the group begins to split up to obtain supplies Nicodemus chimes in. Yes, make sure you have sufficient food and water to sustain yourselves. I can forage as we go if need be but the Underdark can be sparse. I can provide food for myself and water for us all but if I were to fall you should be sure of your own supplies. My Haversack is also magical and I can provide additional storage. I would also make sure you are prepared for the hazards of the Underdark. If you cannot see in the dark then you will need a light source. The drow are known to use deeper darkness and while I can create daylight it is likely to reveal our presence. The passages we travel may often be difficult to navigate, ways of flying and climbing are useful to have. Also, many drow can levitate themselves out of reach.
He pauses before continuing. The drow have many powerful spellcasters amongst their number, particularly clerics of Llolth. Having ways of countering debilitating conditions might also help.
"I have a few scrolls, and am a capable climber and sneak. I can dodge most spells and shrug off a lot of physical attacks, whether via spell, blade, or arrow, but I will admit I'm a bit susceptible to toxins. Elven heritage and what, you know."
Wracking his mind to try and prepare for every eventuality, Elestar forms a short list of supplies to gather and heads out to gear up for a long haul. He acquires more climbing rope (100'), a small hammer and plenty of pitons and iron spikes, as well as more trail rations than he thinks he'll need, all wrapped up in a heavy canvas sack. Along the way he also picks up a set of fur-trimmed winter clothes and some spare blades, just in case.
Meeting up with Saoirse and Wintyr at the gate, Elestar strides up with his pack and gear neatly stowed, with a large sack on a bindle stick over one shoulder. Peeks of fur stick out the top of the heavy burden, while coils of stout rope stand in ready access along the outside.
"So, off to go rescue some folks and slay some evildoers?"
"I can see perhaps half as far as a drow in the dark. In addition, I have spent many years learning how to undo the magics of hags. Drow magic may be different, but I suspect not so different that it will not prove effective."
Jonuli goes along with the group and adds in "Once a day I can cast any arcane spell I have a written source for as if it was one of my sorcerer spells. If you have a suggestion of something we may need I may be able to purchase a scroll. I already have access to break enchantment and private sanctum. I will buy more food as well though."
Lord Morn gives you all a firm nod, his expression grim at Nicodemus' tidings. "Any provisions you need will be provided to you, inform the quartermaster and all will be made ready. I am pleased to see you all so eager for the task--be swift, but be cautious. Daggerdale can ill afford to lose you."
When Nicodemus goes vacant-eyed and then snaps back just as suddenly, the Lord of Daggerdale gives the half-orc a concerned look. "Is everything well, Master Nightspitch?"
The Dordrien Crypts have lain nestled in the northern Dagger Hills since the days of Myth Drannor--capitol of the multi-racial empire of Cormanthor, which was notable for actively including non-elves in its cultural and political fabric. The crypts weren't actively used after the first Shadow Wars when the drow conquered and ruled swathes of the region as the Land Under Shadow. The crypts have never seen active use again--there are no settlements close by, and the Dagger Hills are frequently the haunt of lycanthropes and other dangerous inhabitants.
The party reaches the border of town. With nothing else holding them back, Saoirse smiles broadly. "To slay some evildoers!" she echoes, before looks to Wintyr. "So, our transportation?"
"Of course." Wintyr chants and stamps her feet, pacing in a circle. A cold wind blows though the trees, and as Wintyr takes a small piece of ice out of a pouch and throws it on the ground, the wind coalesces into the vague form of horses. The ice grows and shapes itself into the form of a carriage, hitching itself to the spectral steeds, and although it is slightly cool to the touch, it certainly does not feel like it was made of ice. It looks like it would seat 6.
"Your chariot awaits," Wintyr says with a smile.
As he snaps back into reality Nicodemus shakes his head and rouses himself. Stretching and yawning he mutters,Of course my Lord. I believe the Crypts have been abandoned for a very long time. They predate the period when the drow conquered large parts of the surface world. We should be wary, the Hills in the region are known for Lycanthropes. I recommend picking up some silver weaponry if need be.
When he meets the rest of the group at the edge of town he grins at Wintyr's chariot. Very impressive but a little chilly for me. With that he breathes out a cloud of shadow which forms into a magnificent stallion which paws at the ground. Dont look to close at it he mutters, or it might wink out of existence.
As the wintry wagon appears several of Lord Morn's footmen begin helping to load food and supplies into the wagon. Mounting up, the icy carriage and shadowy steed depart from Castle Daggerdale, riding north into unknown danger.
You follow the trade-roads northwards, resting at a roadside in before resuming the next day. In the early afternoon your magical conveyances break off from the road, and a few hours later you enter the Dagger Hills. With Nicodemus' warning about lycanthropes still fresh in your minds you keep a careful eye out during your camp that night, but no were-beings make an appearance. Whether that is a good omen, or an indication that the drow have driven them away from this area, you do not know.
Though your pace is much slower in the rocky, wooded hills your magical steeds are tireless and pull you along without complaint, as as evening falls on your third day of travel you find yourselves at the base of a lightly overgrown hill boasting several clearly artificial terraces, the ancient stonework holding a bare handful of crumbling mausoleums: the Dordrien Crypts.
Pulling his horse to a stop Nicodemus scans the cliffside. He mutters a couple of spells and looks for signs of recent passage.
Given their history I dont fancy trying these clffs and tombs in the dark. What do the rest of you think? Time is pressing...
"I mean, drow can see better in the dark than pretty much anything, and we're expecting to go underground. A delay until morning might make it a bit more simple to find the entrance and tracks, but inside I doubt day or night is going to make much difference. I'm game to go in now, or we can wait, it's up to you all."
(Darkvision 30')
Jonuli scans the area and says "We should probably take a look in the mausoleums, make sure nothing is waiting there. It might not be a bad idea to aclimate to the drow's schedule. They tend to be more active during our night."
Saoirse steps off of the carriage and looks up into the darkness. "I say we go now," she adds. "We'll be no safer sleeping here at night than we will be delving into the ruins and slaying what we find there."
She puts her hands on her hips and stares up into the mausoleum. She suggests, "We could send Elestar in alone first. He could creep around, tell us what's what in there, and then come back."
"Sounds good to me. Anyone need a light? I can make a coin or rock or something glow like a torch if you want."
If anyone wants it, Elestar casts light on a small pebble and hands it over.
"Give me about 5 or so minutes, I'll scout around and see if I can secure an entrance, then we can all approach."
(+5 vs traps)
"I agree. I think that we should head out immediately, before things get a chance to become aware of us and prepare."
Elestar creeps forward into the ruins, head on a swivel and sunlight rapidly fades. The crumbling mausoleums are cracked and weathered, symbols and writing on them all but faded into ineligibility. A crumbling stairway leads upward past the terraces which form a trio of tiered crescents like an amphitheater in reverse. While Elestar doesn't see anything out of the ordinary, the evening is quiet and the air still. The elf is reminded of a forest when a predator moves through.
At the top of the stairway the third and final terrace levels, with a handful of tombs flanking a large stone doorway carved into the hillside, about fifty feet from where Elestar is crouched. The doors are shut and look quite heavy, but the elf can see scrape-makes in the stone and lichens that have grown in the doorway--this path has been used recently.
While they wait for Elestar to return, Saoirse concentrates briefly. Marching into a barrow in search of drow means probable imminent danger.
Her body begins to glow with a light reminiscent of the sun in the morning. Her hair bursts free of its braids and flows long and wild. Her eyes flash with a righteous glow. While glowing, she grows to a mighty ten feet tall, and two additional arms sprout from her shoulders. Her dagger grows in size until it is a large, broad-bladed sword properly sized for a giantess. Feathery wings unfurl from her back, and spread proudly.
Saoirse draws her sword and casts light on it. A pale glow lights the area as the sun swiftly descends. Her new, enlarged form seems to radiate a soft heat.
She tosses her hair and looks back at the rest of her compatriots. When she speaks, her voice is warm, resonant, and deeper than before. "I hope you will allow me to take the forefront position," she says. "In this form, I am stronger and tougher than before. It's difficult to harm me through my angelic defenses, and my battle-spirit shields me from some harm."
Elestar waits for a good minute in the shadows near the entrance, ears perked and listening for any change in the area. Once satisfied the location is relatively secure, he heads back to the group.
"The entrance to the tomb area is just up ahead. There's some terraced catacombs where the doors looks recently used and disturbed. I didn't see or hear anything dangerous, but that doesn't mean they're not out there. Saoirse, good to see you've got your war face on, by all means, take point. I'll be just behind, checking for traps and tripwires."
"Lead the way my dear. Here, let me ward you with Master Nicodemus's advice before we head further."
Saoirse nods. Hefting her sword up over one shoulder, she bats her wings once and starts heading up the hill towards the mausoleum.
Nicodemus waits below impatiently. When Elestar comes back and the group starts to make preparations he gives a short nod, Happy to cover the back lines. I may not be much use with a weapon but anything trying to sneak up behind us will find themselves subject to my power.
As they ascend and prepare to make their way inside he makes a few additional preparations. He withdraws a wand and quickly taps himself with it and then mutters a pair of quick enchantments to fortify himself.
Nibblees remains crouched on Nicodemus's shoulder, his small beady eyes scanning the area for possible dangers.
Jonuli casts a mage armor spell and is ready to go in. "I'm fine in the back though I may not stay there long depending on the situation.", he says to the group.
When the group reaches the tomb's heavy stone entrance, Saoirse turns. "I sure hope you're all done twiddling your fingers and getting ready!" she calls out with a grin. Then she heaves on the door with two of her arms. If it opens, she strides inside confidently with her sword (affected by light) outstretched.
The party cautiously steps between the old tombs and approaches the ancient stone doors set into the hillside, flanked by heavily weathered statues of visored warriors in full armor. With supernatural strength Saoirse grips the doors and hauls them open with the grinding of stone upon stone. They open barely a few inches before their movement is halted with the rattle of chains--the doors have been chained shut from the inside. Even through that small space a whiff of rot reaches your noses.
"Short of forcing the chains or using a saw or file, i don't see a way to get inside. Does anyone have magic to make someone really small, or summon a strong and smart creature than can unchain the doors? If not, were probably going to have to find another entrance. Maybe down the terraces or around here is a secret way in?"
Elestar loos around for another means of entrance in close proximity.
(+5 vs traps)
Nicodemus checks over the door.
I may be able to do this. I can shape stone which might allow me to remove the chains from the rock.