Galtrin's page

We examined the books recovered from the goblins before we took them to the Septarch. I found a reference to a holy weapon lost in the Demon Wars, in the vicinity of the Nentir Vale -- the Weapon of Kord.

We sold the books to the Septarch (Orsi driving a good bargain, I confess) and pursued our researches in the temples of town, where we discerned further clues to the location of this Weapon, in the lost Temple of Might -- and clues that its previous bearer, a hero named Osthelon, had been transformed into a copper dragon.

Concluding that such a weapon would be of use in the ongoing struggle against the Primordial forces in the Vale, and having no pressing business keeping us in Fallcrest, we set off for the location.

On our way, we encountered an ambush -- what we took at first to be goblins developed to be more of those Abyss-tainted Norkers, who somehow had induced a pair of deathjump spiders to attack us from the rear. It was a hard fight, but we prevailed, of course -- and our friend Orsi came away with a magical pair of climbing boots for his trouble.

We finally reached the site of the ruined temple, before entering which we had to battle through a nest of kruthiks, which we had expected from our researches. Asra made short work of most of the hatchlings, and we slew the more mature ones with relative ease. Rye even harvested the scent glands from the creatures, saying the pheromones could fetch a good price from a perfumer.

In the ruins of the Temple of Might we did, indeed, find a copper dragon. Some of us had hoped to parley with it, as we had some hints as to how to restore Osthelon to his original form, but a fight ensued nevertheless. For all I had studied about dragons, I was taken by surprise -- by how easily it was defeated. I do admit, though, I would be leery of meeting one much larger than this, which was no more than the size of a sturdy workhorse. And, in fact, a mighty sword was beyond it, in pride of place before the rest of the dragon's hoard. My dragonborn friend Throgdor retrieved it and seemed almost to glow with new prowess.

That power was shortly put to the test, as we were ambushed by goblins (and Norkers) on our way out of the temple. And mighty was Throgdor in the fight! While I was beleagured, he raised the sword and called down the lighting itself on the standing goblins, destroying most of them where they stood.

In the end, we were able to return to Fallcrest with minimal delay, with Throgdor bearing the Weapon, and a fair amount of coin in our purses.

Meanwhile, I have been continuing to build the teamwork among our party, and believe I have reached the point where they can gain advantage in a fight with superior tactics.

A final note: Where are these Norkers coming from? Clearly, we have not eradicated the goblin-held Demon Portals. That must be on our agenda.

Lord Warden Markelhay the next day commissioned us to return to the sewers beneath Lower Fallcrest and close the Portal. Armed with a ritual scroll provided by the Moonsong and a reward in the form of healing potions for each of us, we went back and found things much as we had left them. The eladrin Orsi and I, being educated in the arcane, began the ritual. To our dismay, but perhaps not astonishment, a second rift opened as the first one closed -- seemingly a last gasp of the Portal. A thing that can only be described as a demon emerged, not 70 feet away. Our superior tactics, however, seemed to befuddlie the beast, and we were able to quickly dispatch it.

As we were reporting to the Lord Warden of our success, his court was dramatically interrupted. A hobgoblin warleader, of all things, burst in and arrogantly dismissed the guard. To our surprise, Markelhay let the guards go and spoke calmly to the hobgoblin. Seemingly, Fallcrest has made secret alliance with hobgoblin forces in the area against primordial threats. This warleader, one Mordikin Blackblade, had come to report that goblin slaves under his command were rebelling and had captured the location of a second Demon Portal.

Markelhay begged us to seal this portal, as well, and -- as aiding the Fallcrest governor against primoridal threats is no less than my mission in this backwater -- we consented. Blackblade provided maps to a location half a day's journey from town.

We came upon a band of goblins in a glade surrounding a waterfall and set upon them. Their leader, a pest called Nibbler, ordered the goblins against us. We dispatched the goblins with relative ease, but Nibbler escaped through what we learned to be a cave behind the falls. We pursued, of course.

The goblin, though, was prepared for an invasion, and it developed to be an ambush. Two goblin berserkers, with the unlikely names of Zippy and Snippy, led the assault, backed up by goblin archers shooting from behind the cover of rubble. I confess it was a hard fight. I fought side by side with Trogdor, but the sharpshooters took us both -- even me -- down. Our cohorts, including the valorous Orsi, were able to get us on our feet again and we prevailed. The accursed Nibbler escaped again further into the passages.

Yet again, a trap. He crossed a narrow bridge and, as we followed, he was able to ready some kind of device to dim our lights, even my magical torch. That would have been little hazard, yet two shadowhunter bats were lurking in the darkness and sought to knock us from the bridge. Trogdor did fall below at one point in the fight, before I was able to step across and deactivate the device. To our pleasure, there were hidden ladders that enabled the injured dragonborn to return to us.

Finally, we followed Nibbler to the site of the Portal. Half a dozen goblins were there, including a brute called Giznack. We were too late -- had been too much delayed by Nibbler's stalling tactics. Even as we arrived, Giznack completed a ritual by the Portal and transformed himself and two otehrs into insane, hulking beasts. The only blessing is that these Norkers apparently found Nibbler as annoying as we and quickly dispatched him. It was another difficult fight, but our tactical skill prevailed once more and we killed the Norkers. We were then able to close the Portal with the ritual.

On my way to Fallcrest, I stopped, naturally enough, at the Five-Leaguer. The innkeep, Barton, made a decent meal and provided a room; the place was none too crowded. Then the oddity.

While meditating, I was struck by a vision -- I could only assume from Avandra -- of myself and three others fighting goblins in a chamber filled with sickening green mist. I was abruptly drawn from my trance by a knock at the door summoning me to breakfast.

And whom should I find at the breakfast table but four others, three of whom I had seen in my vision? An enormous dragonborn in plate armor with an appropriately enormous axe; an elven woman with green in her hair and a bow near as long as herself; and another eladrin, this one small with a shaved pate, unarmored and carrying a staff. Also at the table was a yet a third eladrin who had not figured in the vision, wearing leather armor with a brace of daggers. All of them, and I can hardly say I was surprised, had had similar dreams -- even the dagger-wielder. We spoke and realized that our journeys took us all to Fallcrest, so we agreed that the gods must wish us to travel together -- and, Lady Avandra has shown since, we were quite correct.

I and my newfound companions arrived at Fallcrest Lowtown just as the sun was setting. Oddly, there was no activity in the streets save a few humans heading for cover and bolting their doors. Barton had directed us to give his regards to the brewmaster at the Blue Moon, so we headed there. Throgdor, our dragonborn friend, proved quite persuasive in getting the halfling innkeep to open up for us.

The innkeep explained that there had been sightings of enormous rats or rat-like creatures (he was none too clear) in recent weeks, culminating in the tragic capture of a young girl two evenings before from in front of her playmates' eyes, the latter reporting that she had been dragged into the sewers. Eight guardsmen had entered the sewers to seek her, and not returned. Since then, the streets of Lowtown were abandonend to the rats at night. At our inquiries, the halfling directed us to where we could speak with the Lord Warden about the situation.

The next morning we presented ourselves at the gates of Hightown, and on hearing of our intent to help, the guards quickly ushered us into Lord Markelhay's presence. He explained the situation in as much detail as he knew, and offered a generous reward of 300 gold for resolving the crisis, as well as what aid he could offer in the way of maps and the like.

Soon enough, we were entering the Lowtown sewers. On our first display of light as we climbed down the ladder (for I had tucked a sunrod in my belt for the descent) swarms of rats, some of them quite large, scattered. However, half a dozen great red-eyed brutes, I should say almost the size of haflings, as well as a large number of their smaller brethren, proved more bold and attacked as soon as we alit in the passage. I fear Throgdor was immediately swarmed, and found his axe of little avail against the vast number of creatures.

I can say that my companions fought bravely and with skill, though perhaps, in some cases, with an excess of zeal. To wit, the rats on Throgdor were not the only creatures burned by the eladrin Asra's arcane flames. After the fight, which saw those of us not gifted in the ways of the fey a little the worse for wear in the muck, we found that the rat-gnawed carcasses of three of the guards. Ah, the stench!

As we pushed on through the tunnels, with Throgdor in the lead, five yet-larger and bolder rats dropped down from the ceiling. Thankfully Throgdor's mail was proof against their teeth and he suffered little damage (with the exception, again, of arcane flames) in the fight. I can say that Throgdor and I fight well together. My superior tactical skill enabled me to set up the rats as easy targets for his brute strength. Throgdor is not necessarily the brightest of lamps, but his valor and physical prowess cannot be denied. I should also note the contributions of Rye, the elf archer, and the eladrin with the daggers. When they concentrated their aim on a target, it did not survive for long! Three more Guards' bodies, I fear.

Finally, we entered an end chamber in the sewers. More of the rats, as we had come to expect by now, and we were presented with the revolting sight of an absolutely enormous (and obese) specimen gnawing on what could only be a child's leg. However, we were unable to focus on this gruesome creature, as next to it was a shimmering red disc suspended in midair. I knew, of course, that it was some form of foul arcane construct, but naught beyond that -- at least until we could further investigate later.

I was, in the end, glad of my companions. At one point, I found myself standing alone, swarmed by rats and in the face of the obese one, with the doughty Throgdor on the ground at my feet. Rye and the others were able to dispatch the remaining rats, allowing me to defend myself and reinvigorate Throgdor.

As we explored the area, giving the red disc a wide berth, we found the remains of those Guards not yet accounted for and, of course, the child. There was also a fair collection of valuable objects, the shine of which must have appealed to the monstrous rodents,and a unique marvel: a wooden staff, startlingly warm to the touch, and engraved with fire symbols. Asra was immediately taken with this prize, saying it would enhance his fire magic (I looked at Throgdor at this point).

For our part, most of us were fatigued, having fought our way thus far, and Throgdor was looking distinctly less hale. On inspection, he had been wounded by one of the most aggressive rats, and the wound was already festering.

We quickly returned to the surface and began to try to puzzle out the mystery of the red energy and the fearsome rats. After several hours in the Moonsong Temple library, I was able to learn that the key would be in, as fate would have it, the library in the Septarch's Tower. While there, we also learned that Throgdor was infected with the dread filth fever. The Moonsong priestess thought she could likely heal him, but would need a number of expensive mystic salves for the ritual. As Throgdor was already weakening, we exchanged the rats' treasure for what was needed.

Before going to the Septarch, we visited the other temples for information. The Pelor priest in the House of the Sun was not especially helpful, but perhaps we should have heeded his warning about visiting the Erathite priestess, who seemed to measure our worthiness for aid by the size of our offering. Fortunately, when we reported to Lord Warden Markelhay, he agreed to put his resources to persuade the Erathis temple to offer their knowledge.

We learned, in all of this, that the red disc was known as a Demon Portal, which was just as foreboding in detail as in name. When we consulted at the Septarch, we learned that most of the old Fallcrest's wizards had given their lives in the Demon Wars, so he was only too glad to help us in encouraging the divines to aid us in our new-found mission to set about shutting down the portal. Indeed, as we passed the news to the Lord Warden, he increased our reward by a third again in thanks for our discovering this peril to the city, if not to the region.