Our story begins with eight adventurers, bound together through whimsy and past relationship, setting out into the wilds beyond Diamond Lake. (I've allowed +1 level adjustment races for my campaign, with the understanding that those who take them won't advance to level 2 until they have enough xp for level 3.)
* Parris, gambling warmage posted to the Diamond Lake garrison (human).
* Samson Pryce, cleric of Pelor (human).
* Gomackan ("Mac"), massive warblade (goliath).
* Geert, monastic swordsage and journeyman from the Twilight Monastery (human).
* Scorchthorn, also a swordsage, whose mother once belonged to the Monastery but who was exiled in the wake of the miner attack twenty years ago (human).
* Darthonian ("Dar"), wood elf ranger from the southern regions, working with the garrison.
* Halo, rogue of unusual appearance (aasimar).
* Ioio, bard recently arrived in the less-fair-than-he-was-lead-to-believe town of Diamond Lake (human).
Age of Worms (session 1): The Whispering Cairn, prelude.
There is a tense atmosphere in Diamond Lake these days. Balabar
Smenk, for reasons he hasn't discussed, has apparently put out the
word on-the-quiet to bring in mercenaries and hired muscle from out of
town in dribs and drabs. The other mine managers (apparently fearing
attempts at hostile takeovers) seem to be moving along similar lines.
All this is making the garrison (and, presumably, the Governor-Mayor)
nervous. Individuals you had previously heard of only by reputation
have recently arrived, and there have already been more than a few
brawls and "incidents" that Sheriff Cubbin, paragon of negotiable
honesty that he is, has conveniently swept under the covers.
Other rumors and gossip pale by comparison with that, but nonetheless
there is still talk. The dragonchess tourney is soon to come at
Lazare's Gaming, with a substantial monetary prize to the winner.
Meanwhile, however, the warmage Parris's Uncle Fred had approached him
and a group of his acquaintances with a request -- recover the prize
breeding stock of rams and ewes which had been stolen (sheepnapped?
*grin* ) from his pens just a few days before.
After a brief investigation (and inquiries made to a Lt. Trovost Skunt
of the garrison, who indicated he'd assigned a troublemaker to look
into it and then dismissed the matter from his mind), the party ranger
Dar was able to pick up the trail of the sheep-rustlers. It took
several hours to follow the tracks into the wooded hills beyond
Diamond Lake's polluted shores, but eventually the party discovered a
mussed clearing where it appeared the garrison soldier Skunt had sent
to investigate (Sabus) had been killed and partially dismembered, then
buried.
From that clearing, Dar swiftly followed the tracks to what seemed
to be an long-abandoned mining office. The party spread out upon
approach, with one going round the back to search for other means of
entrance, three scaling the outer courtyard wall, and four (those most
heavily armored) going in through the decrepit front gates. A cowbell
sounded just as the heavies were approaching, clear sign that the
sentry Dar believed he had spotted had put out the alarm, but no-one
was to be seen when the party gained the courtyard. Peering inside
the office's front door, the front entry party could see what looked
like overturned tables inside a darkened main hall, with figures
crouched behind the makeshift barriers. From within a harsh voice
barked out, "You gonna stand out there all day, bigjobs? Come in so
we can kill you and eat you, you tallie c+!+$%#$%%s!"
Gomackan (the massive goliath warblade everyone has nicknamed "Mac"),
stung by the words and certain he could disrupt the defenders' ranks,
charged through the door. A double -tung!- sounded as he hit the
blackened tripwire just inside the door, but by sheerest chance the
pair of crossbows that had been aimed across the threshold both missed
him. Uncaring, he slammed his spiked chain into the main barrier,
knocking the figures behind it sprawling. Unfortunately, said figures
were make of straw and sticks, as it turned out - a decoy!
Up popped a pair of kobolds from the table blocking the stairs,
flinging slingstones at the goliath, and from the balcony above
another half-dozen appeared with missile weapons at the ready --
including Rur-Shok, a half-dragon kobold! Mac took a few hits, but
managed to stay on his feet as Samson, the cleric of Pelor, swiftly
applied a dose of divine healing. The others in the party moved in
behind, loosing crossbows and spells at those above, but for the most
part there was a great deal of whiffing as bolts and stones missed
their targets. A few struck home on both sides, eliciting grunts of
pain but not felling anyone.
As Mac swung his spiked chain and downed one of the kobolds behind the
stairs barricade, a sharp cry from the side of the hall opposite the
stairs drew the party's attention -- four kobold warriors charging in
to flank! They struck with spears, hoping to slay the attackers just
as Rur-Shok cackled with glee and flung down alchemist's fire upon the
cleric of Pelor, spattering most of the party.
Dar cut down the last kobold at the stairs-barricade, leaving the
space open for Mac to move to the base of the stairs, while Parris
sidestepped and let loose a blast of fire from his burning hands,
catching three of the kobolds. One fell beneath the magics, but the
other three pressed their attack as the kobolds above continued to
rain down stones. Samson's extensive training with the garrison
proved to be most fortunate, allowing him to deflect the worst of the
hail of rocks with his shield.
Outside, monastic swordsages Geert and Scorchthorn had scaled the
sides of the building and came in through two different windows. They
listened for opposition beyond the closed doors as things went noisily
mad downstairs.
Meanwhile, Mac stared up the narrow stairwell at Rur-Shok's grinning
countenance as the kobold sent a barrel-ful of lamp oil rolling down
the stairs towards him. Unable to jump over it in time, he took some
minor damage as the barrel slammed into the base of the stairs and
shattered, filling the stairwell with slick oil. Rur-Shok smiled
wickedly, but before he could fling down his flask of alchemist's fire
Mac called upon the power of the charging minotaur and bull-rushed up
the stairwell, knocking Rur-Shok completely through the wooden wall
behind him. Scorchthorn, who had been lurking right behind the door
of said room, took the opportunity to slash at the prone kobold with
his blades, but was unable to finish him off.
(Interesting side game note: bull rush doesn't actually require a
to-hit roll, which I hadn't realized before. You just move into your
opponent's square and begin a contest of strength. Additionally,
normally a bull rush will not knock a defender prone -- it's just a way
to push him backwards, and you can't push him further than you yourself
go. Cinematically, though, it looked fantastic.)
As Rur-Shok tried to struggle to his feet, Scorchthorn chopped his legs out from under him and Mac sent a length of spiked chain slamming into the kobold's chest. (Criticals rolled by both players, the lucky bastards.) Rur-Shok, who was meant to be a recurring villain, fell ignominiously at their feet.
Down below, much of the party was doing their best to mop up the last
of the kobolds while Samson climbed the stairs. A lucky kobold
spear-thrust took Dar in the vitals, felling him, and the kobold who
did it barked with glee ("I am invincible!") just before a crossbow
bolt took him in the throat ("... or maybe not." *gurgle* ) Mac, up
on the balcony, swiftly moved to crush another pair of kobolds, and
those left above fled from the wrath of these attackers who were
clearly too powerful to defeat.
In the end, Dar was stabilized by judicious medical attention, and the
party made quick work of the guardian monitor lizards Rur-Shok had
left in the records hall. Seven of the eight stolen sheep were
recovered, along with a small treasure trove of miscellaneous items
and an odd map written in Draconic showing directions toward a place
called the Whispering Cairn. The party, feeling bolstered by their
victory, chose to return to the vicinity of Diamond Lake with their swag.
So ends session 1.
From Paris's journal:
I had just gotten off guard duty at the garrison and was about to head
into town for some much needed rest and relaxation at Lazare's gaming
house with Samson, when my Uncle's messenger arrived with a simple
request for help.
Uncle Fred was my last remaining relative in the area, and I had
always thought highly of him. Throughout the years he always managed
to be there whenever I needed something, be it a new pony, or new
clothes for the annual event at Lazare's gaming house.
I wasn't quite sure what my Uncle needed, but he generally wasn't one
to ask for small favors. He lives fairly close to the outskirts of
town in a much more unsettled area. Since it never hurts to be ready,
I decided to go around town to gather as much help as I could muster.
I would normally first try the Garrison, but Skunt had reamed me out
the last time that I recruited some of my colleagues from the Garrison
to help maintain order at the last card tournament in town, and I had
no desire to raise his ire again.
I gathered up Samson, and this quiet ranger named Dar (who wasn't
officially attached to the garrison so there wasn't nothing Skunt
could complain about), and I first headed to my second home (the
gaming house). I was able to quickly enlist the help of Mac, this
enormous bouncer at the gaming house. He also suggested we ask the
bard Ioio to join us. I'm not quite sure how useful this bard
character will be, but as long as Mac is coming along he can bring
whomever he likes.
After getting the rest of the motley crew together we headed to my
Uncle's house. He gave some long winded narrative about his lost sheep
-- he certainly never learned to give a concise briefing from his time
in the service -- and went on and on, until I interrupted him to get
the most important piece of information: the reward of 10 gold per
live sheep recovered.
The group milled around like sheep investigating the footprints. I
don't think even a third of them could survive a week in a disciplined
outfit -- always wandering off to do whatever catches their eye at the
moment.
I thought it best to check in with Skunt to see what came of the
earlier investigation. I was sure he didn't take my Uncle seriously,
which long winded as he may be, he has never been prone to flights of
imagination. Skunt told us he'd sent Sabus out to investigate a couple
of days ago. Sabus! Can you imagine? He clearly just wanted to get
Sabus out from underfoot for some time.
The next morning we proceeded to follow the tracks until we came to
evidence of a scuffle where we found the remains of what we assume was
Sabus. Unintentional though it may be, Skunt will have some answering
to do.
That freak Chimera insisted in poking around in Sabus's wounds. Has he
no respect? Samson helped me ensure that Sabus rested in peace with
Pelor before continuing on to follow the sheep.
We arrived at an abandoned mining office where the sheep tracks end.
For some reason half of our group wanders off to investigate on their
own. Dar, Mac, Samson and I stay behind and slowly approach the main
entrance.
With a loud thunk we heard and saw an overturned table with three
little pesky kobolds sitting behind it, taunting us from inside the
office. Mac, unable to control his annoyance rushed into the building,
narrowly escaping great pain and misery as he hits a tripwire
connected to two crossbows. I wonder what Skunt would have thought of
that maneuver?
I slowly followed Mac and Samson into the office. My training dictates
to stand back slightly so as not to be interrupted during
spellcasting, but in this situation Mac and Samson were in the
building alone and needed as much help as they could get.
The kobolds behind the table were fakes! Surprisingly clever for
kobolds. I wonder who told them to do that? I readied a magic missile
and fired at one of the two visible kobolds behind the counter. Damn
he didn't die -- well I suppose every little bit helps.
Aha! This huge nasty kobold appeared with a few more friends up on the
balcony -- now the kobold decoy starts to make a little more sense.
Per our standard operating procedure, I change my focus to the biggest
threat and fire a magic missile at the big kobold. He didn't even
flinch when it hit him! They sure drilled that into us -- 1st
priority: Imminent danger, 2nd priority: complete kills, 3rd priority:
biggest threat.
A couple of seconds later more kobolds burst into the room from the
1st floor and the 2nd floor. Where is everyone else? We brought 8 of
us to the office, but there are only 4 of us engaged. Samson looks
overwhelmed. He steps back leaving 4 kobolds facing me, Samson, and
Dar. Mac has rushed upstairs to confront the ugly kobold himself.
I ponder what to do, until a little voice in my head whispers,
"remember burning hands." I curse myself for my foolishness and spray
three of the kobolds with fire. My offensive magic teacher did tell me
I would rue skipping to attend the Dragonchess tournament during my
training.
My gaze travels upstairs transfixed by Mac's matrial prowess: he slams
into the ugly kobold and right through the wooden wall behind it.
Quickly a squeal of kobold pain erupts from within the room. The ugly
kobold sounds dead. As Chimera exits the room, I think to myself,
"Ahh, a back door man. Perhaps they aren't so useless after all."
My attention quickly flits back to the 1st floor as Dar collapses
after being beat one too many times in the head by a kobold. I try my
best to stabilize him, but my efforts are no good and we must rely on
Samson to save him.
The rest of the kobolds are quickly cleared out -- except for three
who escape -- I wonder who they are reporting back to. We find some
small treasure -- but most importantly what looks to be a map to an
unlooted cairn. I must remember not to mention this to Skunt when we
report back to him. As an off duty member of the garrison, this
treasure belongs to me and my group and not to him. He is likely to
try to get his greedy little paws on anything he can see.
My uncle will be very happy with us. We have saved seven of his eight
sheep. I wonder if he will be grateful enough to sponsor me in the
upcoming dragonchess tournament.
.
.
A letter from Scorchthorn:
Master -
The plan continues. The resources acquired from separating those wretched miners, after I've crippled them of course, is going far towards providing what is needed.
Unfortunately I cannot abscond from this godsforsaken place until I resolve a few matters: chief amongst them finding my revolting excuse for a sire and separating his limbs from his body, preferably slowly. I fear the above passage may displease you and I apologize, but you have always demanded utter honesty from your servants as well as obedience and so I tell you; many are the dreams that I awake from with my hands still clenched around my dear father's throat. If only I had a face to put to that throat, my hunt would be that much easier.
On the issue of dreams, I have seen her again. She pleads with me to save her, to bring her home. 20 years is a long time for the living, I can only imagine it is no less long for her. I took the vow and made the sacrifice of myself to myself; flesh and fire and steel, and I will not be deterred.
On that note, I have fallen in with a group of wandering vagrants. A motley group but not without their uses. Chief amongst them was a tall gray-skinned creature whose race I do not know, but who fights skillfully and with the strength of ten men. He is called "Gul Mac" as near as I can remember and I have included a sketch of him with this letter, you may wish to consult the archives regarding his species.
The others are ultimately forgettable: an adequate tracker, a common cutpurse, a talented bard who talks entirely too much (Do they not all?), a seemingly pious sun worshiper, an arcanist, a lowly guardsman,I am sure I am forgetting one or two of them but did i not state them as such as I opened this passage?
One point of interest: an old associate of ours from the more carefree days of youth. I shall not mention his name here suffice it to say that he has, as of yet, no idea who I am. But I know him, oh yes. I never forget a face and I wonder if he would recognize mine, even without the Sacrifice.
There is not much to tell: a rancher lost some sheep and we were hired to reacquire them. They were, it turns out, abducted by kobolds, as I had first believed upon witnessing their modus operandi (as you had taught me). These kobolds differed only from the usual vermin in two aspects: firstly, they were usually well organized and fought with an alacrity and discipline usually reserved for hobgoblins.
The reason for this is, the second variation: a powerful kobold leader. I've included a sketch of he as well and as you can tell by the facial features and coloration, he is not your standard kobold slime. Highly intelligent and unusually stalwart, it was only by a combination of the giants might and my blades that brought him down ultimately.
Master, is it not possible that perhaps the legends of the kobolds and the mighty dragons sharing a common bloodline are in fact true? And if that is the case, could these beast have been some sort of augmented kobold with a high concentration of draconic blood running through its veins? You have known my vision, master: corrupted light and death on wings, could there be a connection?
We have received a map for a place called the Whispering Caern, I have included a rubbing of it in this letter having liberated it from the possession of my comrades whilst they slept. I do not know how this pertains to my quest to bring her home nor how it relates to the "writhing plague" you spoke of, but I grow impatient. My compatriots are a half-hearted lot: they shy from the violence that is necessary in the illustrious "adventuring" profession. How they reconcile their delicate sensibilities with a profession that is essentially robbery and murder at its core I know not, but then greed has oft made fools of men. You and I, know that best of all, do we not?
I will endeavor to persevere though, until Obad Hai and fate makes my destination more clear. Know that my focus and drive remain unwavering and grows more intense by the day: she will be brought home, even if I need cross into the Lightless Lands myself and retrieve her.
Until then I remain,
Your Loyal Servant
Scorchthorn
Though harshly challenged at times, the adventuring party managed to score notable successes in their delving into the depths of the Whispering Cairn.
Age of Worms (session #2): The Whispering Cairn. This session's characters included:
* Paris, human warmage 1.
* Samson Pryce, human cleric of Pelor 1.
* Gomackan ("Mac"), massive warblade (goliath) 1.
* Geert, human swordsage 1.
* Halo, aasimar rogue 1.
* Ioio, human bard 1.
(Scorchthorn's and Darthonian's players were unable to attend. Due to the increased number of players, however, I increased each encounter by 2 CR.)
Having retrieved the stolen sheep from the kobolds and returned to Diamond Lake, the party did their best to obtain reasonable prices for the spoils they had won. They managed, for the most part, but also Paris and Samson managed to annoy the curmudgeonly gnome jeweler Tidwoad enough to have him unwilling to give them what they felt was a reasonable price on the garnets and gold necklace they'd recovered. (They hope to send in the bard later to negotiate for them again.)
(Both Scorchthorn and Darthonian were called away on other errands shortly after returning to the town.)
Paris and Samson, loosely associated with the garrison as they both are, appropriately related the death of the garrison soldier (Sabus) whom Trovost Skunt had sent to investigate the sheep-rustling. Skunt made appropriate (though seemingly somewhat transparent) noises of dismay, and promised to fill out the appropriate paperwork for the regrettable and untimely death of young Sabus (with an overtone of "the little bastard was undisciplined anyways"). The party rested the night and re-equipped, purchasing new ammunition and consulting with the local sage, Allustan. The two garrison PCs also left word with one of the other lieutenants, Dobrun Trent, that they would be investigating further up in the hills in case any more monstrous humanoids were about -- so as to give themselves a reason for a possibly prolonged absence from the garrison.
So it was, with map in hand, the party ventured back up into the Cairn Hills in search of the Whispering Cairn. With the assistance of the map, they were able to locate its entrance less than a mile from the abandoned mining office, and swiftly cleared away the undergrowth and debris enough to easily access the cairn. Halo scouted ahead, using his darkvision (which the rest of the party lacks) and his stealth to search the darkened corridors. He swiftly came upon the pack of wolves, and as they advanced he retreated to the rest of his companions. Prepared for their attackers, the party was able to form a defensive line and dispatched the animals with little trouble.
As they pressed further northward into the cairn, they came upon a fairly large hall with alcoves to the east and west and a cobweb-shrouded stairway descending to the north. To the east, they discovered the wolf-den, where they recovered an old leather backpack that held a strange indigo lantern; to the west they found an ancient mural depicting a massive room with seven short hallways (each with the image of a lit, colored lantern) extending from a central hall. With this reference and the indigo lantern in hand, they burned away the cobwebs and continued down the stairs into the depths of the cairn.
They swiftly made the connection between the fresco above and the placement of the lanterns, and placed the indigo lantern in the appropriate corridor. They puzzled over the skeleton found in the Blue corridor (ret-con'd in). Mac's massive strength came in handy when it came time to rotate the sarcophagus, but mistrusting the elevator in the Yellow corridor when it first appeared they chose to continue going around. When the Green corridor failed to manifest a similar elevator, but instead made noises as of a jammed mechanism, they quickly shunted the sarcophagus to the next position again. By the time the elevator came up in the Indigo corridor, they were ready to examine it more closely -- and spotting crushed bones in the elevator's chamber, they suspected a trap. They dragged one of the wolf corpses down to the Indigo elevator, and as soon as the body's weight was fully upon the mechanism it snapped shut and descended. Mac and the others muscled the sarcophagus around to the Indigo position again (past the inviting Yellow elevator and the uneasy rumbling noises of the Green corridor) to reveal the remains of a much-flattened wolf corpse in the Indigo elevator -- a trap, just as they had suspected.
Suspecting something similar in the Yellow corridor, but seeing few other options, they sent down another wolf corpse. It, however, came back up intact. Geert the swordsage then descended on the elevator with signal whistle held in his mouth. Three blasts from the whistle would signify "all clear", one long blast would signify "bring help quick", and if there were no blasts -- well, the party guessed that would mean he had perished. But in short order, the party heard three whistle blasts from below, and so they swiftly ferried themselves down into the small antechamber.
A huge stone block prevented easy access to the corridor beyond. Although an enterprising individual could probably wriggle through the small space left at the top, those in heavier armor would no doubt have difficulty. Instead, the party took a closer look at the block, and Halo immediately noticed the pressure plates beneath it. With some dextrous work, he used his newly acquired masterwork thieves' tools to entirely disable the pressure switch, thereby bypassing whatever fiendish mechanism it would have triggered. With the trap taken care of, the party dragged the block back off the plate and sent Halo forward to scout the corridor which had been revealed.
Lurking stranglers, it should be noted, have a reputation as stealthy little buggers, and this was no exception. An eye ray took Halo by surprise as he crept down the corridor, and he fell into a deep slumber immediately. Fortunately, the bard Ioio was keeping close watch on Halo's progress, and raised the alarm. Unable to see clearly, Paris cast light upon a copper piece and flung it down the corridor, and thus their opposition revealed itself.
Two lurking stranglers, horrific aberrations each consisting of little more than a pair of floating eyeballs connected by ropy muscle, hovered in the corridor, and one immediately moved down to attempt to finish off the unconscious Halo. Geert, with a fierce cry, leapt forward and grappled the one that had begun to strangle Halo, but with a hiss it turned its eye beam upon him and filled him with terror. He fled shrieking back down the corridor. The other party members took the opportunity to launch missile weapons at the stranglers, but either missed or did little damage. Paris pelted one with a magic missile, which injured it but didn't finish it off. The warblade Mac moved forward, pulling out his spiked chain, but though he managed to cut the wounded one down the other blasted him into sleep right beside Halo's unconscious form.
Samson moved up to attempt to engage the remaining strangler, but his mace-blow missed and it sent him fleeing in terror just as it had Geert. All the while, Ioio launched bolts from his crossbow, but was only able to score a single hit due to their size and agility. In the end, it was Geert (who overcame the fear which had gripped him) who charged down the hallway and cut the final strangler in half with a blow from his shortsword.
(Side note: I have never, NEVER, seen so many low Will saves against a DC 11 check in my entire life. Seriously, the amount of fumbled saves there was astonishing. *grin* )
With their enemies defeated, the party continued down the corridor. Ioio's extensive knowledge of dungeoneering proved quite useful, as it allowed Paris to eliminate the passive threat of heat-devouring brown mold before the party moved close enough to trigger it. They swiftly explored the remainder of the Lair of the Architect, though they left the rock-egg within the architect's workshop alone initially. Having recovered the architect's master-tools from behind a falling-stone trap-block (including goggles of minute seeing, which Halo eagerly claimed), they finally took a moment to examine the rock-egg in more detail... and it promptly sprang to life. The medium elemental grumbled at them fiercely, and more and more insistently as time passed without a coherent response, but unfortunately none in the party understood Terran and so battle was shortly joined.
Geert, taking the initiative ahead of his companions, moved in and displayed the unarmed expertise for which the Twilight Monastery is well esteemed, tossing it prone into the midst of his companions with a Mighty Throw. Unfortunately, it recovered far more swiftly than they had anticipated, and was back up on its feet before they had time to react. A knock-down, drag-out melee quickly erupted, with everyone trying to land blows on the elemental before it could hammer the characters into mush. They managed to avoid any deaths, but it was a very close thing -- one heavy slam took a character to 1 hp before the elemental could be defeated.
The party chose to rest in the antechamber of the Lair of the Architect, recovering spells and healing wounds before venturing back up into the Cairn proper. As it turned out, that was a fortunate choice -- for the next morning, rested and healed, the next turn of the sarcophagus collapsed the stone cap in the Green corridor. The rock tumbled into the depths of the revealed shaft, and there was a brief silence -- and then an unearthly shriek from below, followed by the sounds of many tiny legs approaching.
Thinking fast, Halo spattered the edge of the shaft with alchemist's fire just as their enemies revealed themselves -- a pair of acidic beetle swarms and another horrible aberration, this one looking like little more than a huge central eye and six sharp-clawed legs. The aberration, a mad slasher, quickly moved to engage the nearest party members as it was hit by an accurate crossbow shot of Ioio's. Limping slightly but otherwise ignoring its wounds, it struck out with multiple legs to hit all within reach, inflicting substantial damage. The beetles swarmed after it and towards the characters, chewing mindlessly on one leg of the slasher before engulfing nearly half the party. The already-hurt slasher shrieked and fled, but in doing so opened itself up to an attack of opportunity by Mac, whose spiked chain tore it open and laid it dying on the floor.
The rest of the party, however, was not doing nearly as well against the beetle swarms. They swiftly discovered that conventional weapons were of little use against the tiny horrors, and that the distraction of having dozens of acidic beetles crawling over their bodies left them hard-pressed to continue any attack. Paris, bitten in many places and scorched by acid, staggered out of the swarm at zero hit points and managed to summon his fiercest magics, torching the swarms with burning hands before collapsing of his own wounds at Samson's feet.
Nursing their wounds, and staring with no little fear at the dark revealed shaft, the party chose to take a short break to recover and regroup within the depths of the Cairn.
So ended session 2.
From the journal of Samson Pryce:
I write this in a hidden cairn, and at the beginning, I think, of a
grand and dangerous adventure.
It was a few days ago when my comrade-at-arms, Parris, came to me and
told me of his uncle's request for an audience, for some trouble. I
was all too happy to accompany him because despite the fact that I
love him like a brother, I feel that almost anything that distracts
him from the gambling house these days is a blessing. We departed for
his uncle's estate, acquiring some companions along the way. First
was a ranger by the name of Dar, loosely associated with the
garrison, unknown to me. Next, we stopped by the gaming house and
recruited Geert, an acolyte at one of the local monastaries, and Mac,
the massive bouncer. In addition, there was a bard by the name of
Ioio, a shady character by the name of "Halo", and a pit fighter
called "Chimera", who apparently takes great pleasure in punishing
miners in the pit......most disturbing.
We set out for the residence of Parris's uncle Fred, who had a problem
with some of his sheep being stolen. Upon investigation, we found a
broken fence in Fred's yard. Parris and I made an inquiry at the
garrison, where the arrogant Lt. Skunt told us that he dispatched
Sabus (his favorite whipping boy of the garrison) to investigate. We
made way back to the farm, and followed the tracks. Eventually, they
led to a clearing, where we discovered the corpse of our poor
unfortunate brother Sabus, who had a missing arm. We gave him a proper
burial, and continued following the tracks to an old abandoned house.
We carefully made our way into the house, with Chimera and Geert
bringing up the rear. Inside, there was a devious trap set by a small
battalion of kobolds. We took the fight to them, and were met with
punishing sling bolts and burning fire. Still, we persevered, and
sent the vicious little monsters to their foul maker. There was a
larger, odd-appearing kobold leading them, barking orders. They had a
sound strategy to hold their positions, but we pressed on. Though he
might now know it, Pelor must definitely smile upon Gomacken. He
dropped kobold after kobold, and shrugged off their attacks valiantly.
Things looked bad for a while, but Pelor lent us grace, and Geert and
Chimera's subterfuge caught the kobold leader by surprise. He fell,
and the rest quickly followed suit.
We discovered a stash of some treasure, which included a conspicuous
array of exploration equipment, and a strange map….in Draconic. I read
it to the others, though this was unnecessary for Parris and IoIo as
they also speak the dragon's tongue. The map told of a "Whispering
Cairn", somewhere in the vicinity. A cairn we had never heard of,
possibly filled with treasure! Contained in the treasure was a wand
filled with spells of light curing. If that wasn't a sign that Pelor
shines upon this venture, I don't know what is! And more importantly,
there could be something in there to explain the kobold's interest in
the area.
We recovered the sheep and returned them to Fred. Somewhere between
us leaving there and returning to the city, Dar and Chimera vanished
with no word or warning. I don't know what to make of Dar, but I don't
know that I feel such an enigmatic companion is a good idea.
Chimera……Chimera is another story altogether. Chimera strikes me a
bully. When we recruited him at the gaming hall (against my protests),
he was shattering the arms of a miner that he had just defeated in the
pit. He strikes me as a bully and a coward because of this…….miners
can seem despicable sometimes, but one must remember they have a hard
lot in life, and they are to be pitied above else.
At any rate, we returned to the Lake, got healed by my brethren at the
temple, sold most of the treasure (the gems remaining were my fault….
I behaved most brazenly at the crusty Gnome Jeweler's, and he offered
us an undesirable price. Next time, IoIo does the selling……), and
reported Sabus's death to Skunt, who didn't seem to care much, none to
my surprise. I was able to upgrade to a crossbow from the treasure
share, and offered my remaining javelins to Mac. We also visited
Alshazam, the so-called "smartest man in Diamond Lake (I suspect the
claims to be true), who graciously assisted us by telling us how many
charges remained in the wand, identified some potions we found, and
told us what he knew of the Whispering Cairn. I promised to add an
extra amount to my next tithe in gratitude, and we also promised to
share any knowledge we found of the cairn to him.
We set out, and found the cairn with little difficulty. The entrance
was grown over, a good sign that nobody else had been there recently.
We entered the darkened cairn, and began exploring. Geert noted many
intricate tubes on the wall, which clearly gave the cairn its name. We
went further in, and detected activity. Before we knew it, a pack of
vicious wolves was upon us! Mac delivered swirling death from his
wicked spiked chain, and two quickly fell before him. The others
quickly closed on us, and I was forced to drop my crossbow to get my
mace out. During the combat, that stupid bastard Halo managed to shoot
me in the hindleg with his crossbow! The nerve, using such a device in
close quarters without the proper training! We quickly overcame the
wolves, and Pelor guided my hand to shatter the skull of the last
feral beast.
We split up in the hall beyond where the wolves attacked, and my half of the party found an elaborate tableau on the wall of multicolored
lanterns, with paths behind them. This was behind an altar of some
kind, with strange symbols on it. It appeared to be related to
elementals, not my area of expertise. We pressed on down the hallway,
and found a large room with a sarcophagus in the middle, and small
alcoves with colored lanterns in them, with an everburning torch
inside one of them, and shafts leading upwards from the alcoves. After some investigation, we found that the sarcophagus was a mechanism that
activated elevators in two of the alcoves, and seemed to have a broken
elevator corresponding to the green lantern. One of the elevators had crushed bone in it, and it gave me an ill feeling. Upon further
examining, I deduced that there were scratchmarks on the ceiling, and
that something indeed was horribly crushed in there. I retrieved
several wolf corpses from up the hall to test, and we found indeed
that one of the elevators worked fine, while the other smashed
anything in it.
Geert scouted down the elevator, and found it safe. We proceeded down,
where we were ambushed by mysterious ray-shooting eyestalks that
felled Halo. My heart grew chill as I remembered tales of horrible
beholders, but we pressed on. I don't remember much of the fight, just
being struck by a ray and feeling the irresistible urge to flee. The
monsters were slain, and we proceeded down the hall to find a section
much like one's living quarters, only half-covered in some strange
brown moss. I was considering dropping a torch on the substance when
Ioio cautioned us, telling us that the stuff absorbed heat, and Parris
destroyed it with a frosty ray. We explored and found a commode, a
bedroom, and a workshop off to the side with a strange egg in it. I
remembered some vague legends relating to elementals…..slightly more
than before, but not much. There was a basin with a strange orange goo
in it. I acquired an empty flask from Mac, and tucked some away in the
hopes that Allustan can provide us with some insight to it later. Halo
found a secret cache in the wall, with more treasure, including
magical chainmail! The party generously voted that I should take it
(note to self: offer scale mail to others before we set out down the
hole), and we returned topside. We attempted opening the sarcophagus,
with little more than a blast of flame for our troubles.
We then attempted to open the stuck elevator passage, with the result
of it breaking. We heard a wicked scream, and steeled ourselves for
battle. A monstrous spidery creature, not unlike an eyeball
on legs, surged up followed by two large swarms of beetles. The battle
turned ugly fast with the spider striking two of our number at a time,
though the beast was quickly slain. The swarms surged upon us, and I
feared for a moment that we might fall. I myself was horribly nauseated by the stench of the hundreds of beetles, and
ran. Thank Pelor I had the presence of mind to run in the direction of
Parris, who was wavering and gravely injured, I feared. With his last
reserve of strength, Parris incinerated the beetles with jets of flame
from his fingers, and then fainted. I healed him and the others, and
that brings us to me at this moment, sitting on the stone floor,
writing this. I feel that my companions are a solid and valiant lot,
though I haven't quite made up my mind about Halo. His skills have
been undeniably useful, but I don't trust him. Least of all, I trust
him with a crossbow pointed in the general vicinity of my
hindquarters! But I don't think we've seen the last of Chimera, make
no mistake.
In a few short hours, we will be setting out to continue
exploration of this cairn. And I remain, your faithful servant in
Pelor's name,
Samson Pryce
.
.
.
A letter from Paris:
Dear Commandant Stevens,
I soon hope to have raised the gold necessary to repay your generous
loan after that unfortunate incident at the gaming house. Without your
help I'm sure I would have spent many years doing hard labor in the
mines. I know there is no proof, but I still insist that fiend
Mortimer cheated in an attempt to expel me from the college.
Although you see no value in "these foolish games of mine" as you call
them, there are many who see the tactical and strategic merits in such
pursuits that do not happen to be dragonchess.
The annual dragonchess tournament here in Diamond Lake starts in a few days. I hope to compete and perhaps finally get the chance I have
always dreamed of and play against the Prince in a dragonchess match.
As you know I grew up watching him play as I ran various errands for
the players as a small boy. He only deigns to plays against opponents
who are serious enough players to have their own dragonchess set. Due
to fortunate circumstances, which I will detail to you later in this
letter, I find myself in enough gold to purchase a set of my own.
I do hope you do not consider me remiss in purchasing the set. You had
admonished me to live a good life and take care of my ordinary living
expenses before setting aside money to repay your loan. With the
tournament I have a chance to win 500 gold pieces and repay your loan
in full and more.
Let me tell you more about my fortunate circumstances: Samson and I
gathered a small group of explorers and adventurers to save my Uncle
Fred's sheep from sheepnappers (who turned out to be unexpectedly
intelligent kobolds). Among the possessions we found after defeating
the kobolds was a map to a relatively disturbed cairn in the hills.
Our somewhat coherent group has seemed to be the match of the traps
and inhabitants of the cairn.
Of our group, Samson you of course know from a few of the many stories
we've exchanged during our friendly dragonchess matches. Mac seems to
be a loyal friend, our friendship has blossomed from our acquaintance
at the gaming house. Geert seems somewhat inscrutable -- his ways of
fighting are nothing like the teachings of swordmaster Fenn, but I am
quick to trust him.
The bard Ioio, I initially thought to be completely useless, surprised
me with his knowledge of a brown mold we encountered in the cairn.
Most of our group was ready to burn the mold away until Ioio quickly
stopped us and explained that it was vulnerable to cold, and to apply
that much heat to the mold could have resulted in our certain death. I
suppose there is a purpose for such esoteric knowledge not directly
applicable to the battlefield.
The sneak Halo makes me suspicious. During battle, he fired his
crossbow directly into Samson. At first he attempted to blame Ioio,
but when caught in his lies he claimed it to be an accident. I don't
see what gain he would have from attacking Samson. He has the skills
of a trained college scout, but without the mandatory class in honor
and ethics that we all had to sit through.
You will be proud of me. Our group was almost overrun by swarms of
beetles, and our warriors could do nothing to defeat them. Judicious
use of magical flame saved us from danger. You always did tell me
there would come a time when I would have to stand on the front line,
ignoring the harm that would come to me, in order to defeat an
opponent. I collapsed from my wounds as the final burst of flame
erupted from my hands scorching the beetles to a crisp. Luckily it was
enough to defeat them, or I would not be here today to write you this
letter.
I eagerly await your response,
Paris
Commandant Stevens' letter in response:
Hail and well met, Paris,
It has been far too long since last we corresponded, my young friend. You have often been in my thoughts here at the Academy over the past year, but only rarely has my desk been graced with one of your missives. I am pleased to hear that your fortunes are somewhat recovered, though I am admittedly somewhat less pleased that you remain fascinated by games of chance and happenstance. And though privately I may admit to you that I share your suspicions concerning Mortimer, formalities must be observed -- and it was those which forced you into your current position.
It may interest you to know that despite graduating from the Academy with honors, Mortimer has not entirely prospered. His family ensured that he obtained a prestigious posting with the Free City's Navy, as a lieutenant aboard the frigate GFS Arrogant (an appropriate assignment if ever I heard one). To the best of my knowledge they are engaged in a six-month patrol of the Nyr Dyv, but so far young Mortimer has not precisely covered himself with glory. If rumor is at all correct, he has been heard to grumble about the strictures of the rank-and-file, is keeping questionable company, and may not be long for the service.
On a more cheerful note, you will be pleased to note that your friend Odain Ingolfsson has made a good name for himself with the expeditionary force which works to maintains control over the less tamed areas of the Wild Coast. He has been involved in more than a few clashes with brigands and monstrous humanoids, and has by all reports acquitted himself quite well.
I look forward to hearing of your accomplishments in Diamond Lake's dragonchess tournament. I remember our afternoon games with great fondness, and wish you the best of luck in your endeavours.
Strength and honor,
- Aquilius Quintus Stevens -
Very nice work thus far sir. Please keep it up 8)
A letter from Golmackan:
Mother and Father,
I write to you from a very strange place. It seems there is at least
one cairn near the mining town that avoided looting, and as we rest
here tonight, I thought you might like to hear some of my tale.
Just a few days ago, my friend Paris from the garrison invited me to
help recover some stolen livestock from his rancher uncle's farm. We
tracked the kobolds to an old farmhouse, and I charged into battle,
much as you have warned me against many times. Luckily, another of the
garrison soldiers, Sampson, is a priest of a downlander god called
Pelor, and was quickly able to mend the damage from sling stones and
those tiny little swords.
We recovered almost all of the "sheep," (and it turns out the Kobolds
and many humans here do eat the meat of this animal closely resembling
the totem of Kavaki) and returned them to the rancher. I thought to
ask whether these fuzzy hornless ramskins can be fashioned into a
decent goatball only after we had left the farms. I'll have to ask
Ioio whether he's ever played the game.
In any case, we also recovered a map to the place where I now sit,
which I'm told is called the Whispering Cairn. Aptly named, as some
strange earthenwork channels in the walls funnel the sound of sighing
air into the chambers in the upper level.
I made quick work of a pack of feral wolves, using the chains in which
Skuul and the other frost giants imprisoned me. How he would have
ground his teeth had he been able to see his own instruments of pain
used to sharpen my own skills in battle!
Eventually we came to a seven-pointed chamber with a curious tomb at
the center. It appears that each of the tunnels once led to a lift
that lowered the contents below the level of the tomb. One of these
was a trap, and several were broken, but all were of quality as fine
as any I've seen when we traveled through dwarven lands to trade. We
lowered the monk Geert into the only obviously functional lift, and
when he signaled it was safe, we all followed.
And then we encountered some of the most bizarre creatures I have ever
seen—two small eyes tethered by a thin ropy strand of muscle. I've
since been told that they are not common, even here, but that makes
them no less unsettling. I succumbed to a strange beam from one of
these eyes, and failed to help my friends drive back the creatures.
Thankfully, this group does seem competent enough and they killed the
abominations and woke me.
Though the craftsmanship was of good quality, these did not seem like
the tunnels and cities of the dwarves. We found strange markings that
Sampson told me had something to do with an ancient war between a god
of Evil and a god of Good. The side of evil apparently fought
alongside elementals made of earth, one of whom remained inside this
tomb. He spoke in a language that sounded vaguely Dwarven, but became
agitated and attacked us.
Now something interesting: my friend Ioio, who, though amusing, hadn't
previously shown many exceptional talents, began to sing in a most
extraordinary way! Just as our Dawncallers can inspire the tribe to
exceptional feats of bravery when frost giants or duergar attack, his
song inspired our crew and we successfully laid the creature to rest.
Please relay this information to Dawncaller Asheuma, and ask her if
she has heard of other downlanders with this gift. Please also tell
her that I have not forgotten my promise to return to her with proof
that I have learned to be more than a "rash child compulsively
carrying those horrible chains".
The next day, we returned to the seven-pointed room, and one of the
lifts collapsed. A horrible cry sounded from the depths, and from the
shaft poured two swarms of beetles. Think of the pine boxbugs that
smell foul when crushed and you will be close to the mark, but these
creatures spit some horrible substance that burns like fire. I heard
Skuul's laughter as I tried to scatter the swarm with my chains, to no
effect. Only the quick thinking of our valiant and wounded warmage
saved us from being eaten alive, I am sure. He is a brave man, and I
will have to stay closer to him, the better to defend his fragile and
unarmored little pink body.
Even more foul than these awful bugs was the abomination that swarmed
with them. It was a whirling chitinous horror that tore through
several of us before making a misstep. Master Uthelo would have been
proud as I leapt at the opportunity and felled the horror. I hope my
allies see my score in a better light by having slain this creature;
surely my failures against the eye-creatures and the beetles are
redeemed by this.
So as we rest and recover tonight before descending again, my thoughts
are drawn to you and to Asheuma. Hopefully I find proof worthy of her.
With devotion,
Bearstalker
Age of Worms (session #3): The Whispering Cairn. Today's players included:
* Paris, human warmage 2.
* Samson Pryce, human cleric of Pelor 2.
* Gomackan ("Mac"), goliath warblade 1.
* Geert, human swordsage 2.
* Halo, aasimar rogue 1.
* Ioio, human bard 2.
(Scorchthorn's & Darthonian's players were again not present and are most likely dropping out of the game.)
After the combat with the mad slasher and the beetle swarms, everyone was ready to rest and recover -- just not in immediate proximity to the dark, sinister shaft in the green lantern's corridor. Instead, they chose to camp just outside the Cairn, and re-entered it refreshed (and mostly level 2) the next morning.
First, though, they more closely examined the skeleton which had been found in the blue lantern's corridor. It was quickly determined that whoever it was had died of several badly broken bones -- bones that would most likely have been broken in that manner by a fall from a substantial height. Halo scaled the chain up to the top of the shaft and Geert followed close behind. In short order, they discovered a long narrow corridor with a huge stone face blocking the far end. When Halo approached, it suddenly sprang to life, eyes emitting a paralyzing glare and mouth blowing with near-hurricane winds. Though the rogue was briefly frozen by the face's magics, he recovered within moments and fled down the corridor -- only to lose his footing in the high winds and go tumbling over the edge! Only a swift catch by Geert, who had grabbed on to the chain and was holding on for dear life, kept Halo from what surely would have been a fatal fall.
With the stone face continuing to bluster despite the party's exit from the upper corridor, it was decided that now might be the best time to explore the lower regions of the Cairn. Halo was lowered into the shaft on a rope, despite the prominent handholds and footholds, so that he could be swiftly pulled back out should he encounter trouble. No foes immedately presented themselves in the room below, though, and the remainder of the party quickly regrouped in the Lair of the Laborers antechamber.
In short order, they defeated a handful of giant bombardier beetles and another pair of acidic beetle swarms, then made their way north and discovered a set of stairs descending into cold dark water. The party discovers the remains of an expedition of Seekers -- an unscrupulous assemblage of tomb-raiders, so-called archaeologist, and pseudo-historians -- scattered all around this segment of the Cairn. Halo swapped into a set of masterwork red leather armor he had discovered on a long-dead Seeker's remains. Paris cast light upon a copper piece and tossed it into the depths, where a half-glimpsed translucent figure snatched it aside within seconds. The party, uncertain how best to proceed, began to discuss tactics at the water's edge and were only interrupted when the medium water elemental leapt out and tried to wrestle Halo into the depths. Combat erupted as the PCs hastily reorganized themselves, and despite some mishaps the party was able to dispatch the elemental without substantial trouble.
Mac stripped out of his armor as the party tied a rope around his waist -- after all, he was the strongest among them, and clearly best suited to swim the depths. Though no more elementals arose, he did shortly stumble over a gaunt, toothy figure -- a lacedon, who pursued him immediately! Despite his efforts to escape, the watery ghoul managed to paralyze him with a bite. Being a cunning and evil thing, it severed the rope linking him to the rest of the party with his own dagger, then settled into the task of gnawing at the thick, savory muscle of his right arm. Mac was horrified, but managed to shake the paralysis from his body and break free, swimming for his life and leaving a murky blood trail.
Just then, the party had pulled back the severed rope's-end and were beginning to worry. When Mac came splashing out of the water, streaming blood from half-a-dozen bite wounds, their worries were immediately brought to the fore -- and the ghoul was just behind. The party's initial missile attacks mostly missed their target, but Samson stepped forward with the symbol of Pelor held high and used his divine might to destroy the foul creature where it stood. After taking some time to heal, Mac went nervously back into the water, and recovered a number of items -- the red lantern missing from the main room above, a small pouch of coins, a valuable ring belonging to a prominent member of the Seekers, and what turned out to be a magical shortsword (which was swiftly claimed by Geert).
The party returned to the Cairn's main chamber (where the wind from the stone face had long since died down), replaced and lit all of the lanterns, and scaled the blue lantern's shaft to the corridor above. The stone face, once all the lanterns were set aflame in their proper places, had shifted aside without a sound, and where it had once stood a large room with intricate geometric patterns upon its side-walls was revealed. The chamber's floor, a tumbled mass of large leaden spheres, lay ten feet or more below the entry corridor, and only a narrow bridge led from the corridor to a small metal door on the far side of the room. Geert attempted to cross the bridge, but was struck mid-passage by a handful of lead spheres that shot out from the side-walls. The impact did him enough damage that he lost his balance and fell, but even in doing so he was able to twist about so that the short tumble did him little damage. The moment he struck the surface of the spheres, though, a horrible aberration burst forth, seeking to tear him apart. The party, hovering at the doorway, aimed spells and missile weapons towards it, but it was Geert's enchanted shortsword which struck the grick a killing blow.
Strangely, the room itself seemed to give commentary as the combat progressed, but as matters came to a close a ghost -- head horrifically snapped sideways -- revealed itself. The ghost was an adolescent named Alastor Land, who had (fifteen years and more past) run away from home, abandoning his mother and family. He had managed to sneak through the Cairn's defenses. Light enough to not trigger pressure plates, and fortunate enough to be present when the unseen air-elemental servants were maintaining and testing the Cairn's defenses, he managed to slip past the stone-face door only to be trapped in the arch room and killed by the sphere-trap. Because of his guilt over the abandonment of his family, though, particularly after the recent death of his father, he had come under a curse and become a ghost bound to the Cairn.
The door at the far side of the room, he told the party, concealed a vast chamber of light and wind, but cannot be opened from this side. With his ghostly abilities, he could easily do so for them -- but first, he asks in return that his remains be taken from this tomb and returned to his family's farmstead, to be buried beside the bones of his kin. After brief discussion, the party agreed to this bargain, and so recovered Alastor Land's remains (and some other loot that has also been lost here) and departed the tomb for Diamond Lake.
As evening fell they returned to the town, some three days after they had left. They quickly consulted with Allustan, who confessed himself greatly interested in the details they have discovered within the Cairn and provided them with useful information in return. Additionally, the sage was willing to identify the magical items they have recovered at a discount, assuming the party is willing to provide him with more information as they continue to investigate. He appeared not so much interested in what treasure may be recovered from there as he was in the lore that he could collect about the locale, and promises to compensate them should they bring him more observations. He was also able to provide them with more detailed directions to the Land farmstead -- though to the best of his recollections, the family died a decade and a half past, victims of the Red Death plague that swept through the land then.
Ioio negotiated with Tidwoad the gnome, and managed to avoid the more serious gaffes that plagued Samson and Paris when they spoke with him. He traded the Seeker ring found in the Cairn to Tidwoad for a tidy 40 platinum. While he was about that business, Mac checked in with his employers at Lazare's, and Paris and Samson looked into purchasing their own dragonchess sets for the tourney the next evening. Lazare was unavailable, being consumed in a game with a visiting mage-adventurer by the name of Khellek (one of a trio recently come from the Free City, who seek not the money being offered by mine managers but to investigate some of the cairns in the area). Instead, they interacted with Lazare's daughter, Dannath.
The following morning, the party set out to locate the Land farmstead. They were able to find their way to it with little trouble, but discovered upon arriving that someone has dug up the family graves and stolen the Land remains. Additionally, a confusion of footprints was found, seeming to indicate that after the disinterring five individuals went towards the farmhouse but only four came back -- and that those four were in a substantial rush. The six adventurers cautiously approached the weathered house, and determined through judicious scouting that a large beast laired within -- a fearsome owlbear. Choosing not to confront it within its own lair, they lured it out by infuriating it with missile fire. As matters turned out, the furious owlbear nearly tore Mac in half regardless (the owlbear grappled him successfully, but when the goliath's turn came around he managed to escape the grapple with a natural-rolled 20), causing him to hurriedly retreat as the rest of the party engaged. In the end, it was Halo who brought the beast low with a well-placed crossbow bolt.
Inside, the party found a gruesome scene -- the remnants of another adult owlbear, as well as three dead owlbear cubs, a live cub, and a severed arm. One of the party quickly puzzled out that the arm belonged to a thief named Skutch, largely because the arm bore the tattoo of Garavin Vesst (a greedy mine manager who branded his employees with it as a badge of status). Skutch most recently was associated with Kullen and his gang, all of whom were previously Vesst's indentured servants. Vesst was bankrupted by Balabar Smenk years ago, and as a result his former employees view Smenk as a sort of liberator. With that evidence, the party concluded it is very likely Kullen and his group may have been behind this.
The six of them returned to Diamond Lake and had a brief consultation with Allustan, discussing whether there are any rumors of necromancers or other types who would find use for unearthed remains. The sage had heard no direct information, but recommended that they speak with members of the Cult of the Green Lady (the Wee Jas sect which has a stronghold in a well-explored cairn across the Lake). He also promised that he would look into the matter himself -- though he hadn't heard anything as yet, his focus was generally aimed more towards the information and miscellanea having to do with the cairns and ruins in the Cairn Hills.
Paris, Halo, and Mac went to the Feral Dog (one of Kullen's favorite hang-outs) to find out any rumors about graverobbing. After the purchase of a few drinks, most notably the barkeep's latest semi-consumable attempt at traditional goliath kvass -- ale mixed with soured goat's milk -- they drew the barkeep into conversation. Although the barkeep hadn't heard anything about graverobbing, they discovered Kullen's been keeping some slightly new company ever since Skutch disappeared -- some priest, the barkeep thought, maybe one of those tree-hugging Obad-Hai types? Jabrun, the barkeep thinks the cleric's name is, and he's bunking down at Jalek's Flophouse. (Jabrun is an NPC I've added to the AP on my own.)
The three of them went to roust this new priest, thinking that perhaps he might be the one motivating the graverobbing. Finding him took a suitable bribe to the extravagantly mustachioed halfling landlord Jalek, but once Jalek had seen them to their "friend's" door he gave them a knowing smirk and walked away. They listened at the door but heard only snoring within, and Halo managed to pick the lock without any trouble. The three of them went in and, being of morally flexible natures, sapped Jabrun and tied him blindfolded to the room's rickety chair. While Jabrun was unconscious, Ioio cast charm person on him to try to help along the "discussion". A not-so-subtle but not-physically-harmful interrogation ensued, wherein the self-admitted priest of Obad-Hai said he is a recent arrival to Diamond Lake who hooked up with Kullen's gang for needed money and hasn't heard anything about grave-robbing or confrontations with owlbears. Though the players are suspicious, Jabrun seemed to be scared honest -- he hasn't heard anything about that business, owlbears are nature's misguided but vicious children, and why yes it does seem like a good idea for him to get out of town soonish. Halo sapped him again, and they leave Jabrun sprawled unconscious on his cot (though Halo swipes his masterwork heavy mace).
Later that afternoon, knowing that at least one individual from the Cult of the Green Lady was due to attend the dragonchess tourney that evening, Paris, Samson, and Ioio went to speak with the priestess Alys Hong. She was enjoying a late lunch at Lazare's Gaming House, and after Samson politely introduced himself she shook his hand and immediately fell into an odd trance, murmuring about being "touched by destiny" and "holding back the writhing tide" and naming both Samson's and Paris's full names. She seemed to shake herself free of the trance within a dozen seconds or so, unable to wholly recall what she was saying, and the adventurers settled in to inquire about the graverobbery at the Land farmstead. Are there any dark magicians or necromancers known to be in these parts, they ask. Alys herself does not know of any, but as the stealing of remains and what she expects to be their animation is a grave affront (no pun intended) to the Lady, she will put the question out to her Wee Jas brethren to discover more information.
Meanwhile, the start-time for the dragonchess tourney approaches, less the four hours away, which will no doubt provide opportunity for social interaction amongst the high and mighty of Diamond Lake...
So ended session 3.
----------
Somehow, the party just keeps managing to squeak out victories without casualties, through good tactics and some impressive luck at rolling. However, their luck can't hold forever... and I expect next session, with the confrontation with Kullen's gang (plus one, in the form of Jabrun), the fight against Filge, and the battle against the Cairn's wind warriors, may yet prove the exception to their lucky rule.
With the PCs having interacted with Alys Hong (who I made up for my campaign), a member of the Cult of the Green Lady and a participant in Lazare's dragonchess tourney, I decided to use a followup to that as a means of communicating some hints about what's to come to my players.
------
Lazare’s hall is abuzz with conversation and movement as the varied competitors idly chat or sit in quiet corners, contemplating the contest to come. Servers offer flagons of fine wine and more exotic alcoholic beverages, specially ordered by the host for this occasion. An extensive buffet table of fresh-picked fruit, bread just out of the oven, a variety of meats and cheeses, and other fine savories stands against the wall away from the front door, ensuring that only those who are taking part in the tourney or have paid the cover charge may indulge.
Over at a secluded booth, you see Alys Hong, the Wee Jas priestess who Paris and Samson spoke with earlier. She spots you as well, and beckons you over surreptitiously. A brief pause ensues as each of you makes your way to the booth in roundabout fashions; the hall’s floor is crowded with more than a dozen dragonchess tables.
“I have information for you, if you have a spare moment.” She glances to both sides, then seems reassured that no-one else is near enough to easily eavesdrop. “First, you should know that the unearthings you discovered are not the only remains which have gone missing recently. In the past week or so, there have been perhaps half a dozen corpses – murders have increased recently, with all the rowdies and hired muscle that have been turning up in town – which have gone missing shortly after their death. Your report is the first I have of graves being disturbed. But if whoever is responsible is looking towards gathering a broader harvest, there may be more shortly.”
“Second, these recent disappearances are not the only reports we of the Green Lady have had with regards to possible necromancy. It may be entirely unrelated, but there has been talk in the garrison and among travelers of some manner of horrific, unkillable zombies found ranging in the hills between here and the Mistmarsh. It’s said that these zombies, if that they are, carry a foul contagion or contaminant that can swiftly spread to those they touch… a contagion which apparently transforms those who fall victim to it into more of these horrors. A number of caravans have lost people to their attacks. They have been reported rarely in the past, but their numbers appear to be slowly increasing.”
“Third…” Alys lets the word hang in the air for a moment, nibbling at her lip. “You should know you are not the only one asking about this sort of thing. Moonmeadow—” she inclines her head towards the smiling, foppish elven manager on the far side of the hall, “—has been putting out quiet inquiries of his own. I don’t know what business he might have in this situation, truly. But while we of the Green Lady have only been here in Diamond Lake for a handful of years, he has made his home here for better than five decades. He might know something that we are not yet aware of.”
She lifts her flagon to Paris and Samson. “I wish you good luck in the tourney. If you discover anything new of these matters, pray inform myself or one of my brethren immediately.” With that she gracefully stands, and moves to mingle with the other attendees.
Age of Worms (session 4): The Whispering Cairn.
This session's characters included:
* Paris, human warmage 2.
* Samson, human cleric of Pelor 2.
* "Mac", goliath warblade 1.
* Geert, swordsage 2.
* Halo, aasimar rogue 1.
* Ioio, human bard 2.
Joining the group as of this session:
* Vaed, human wayfinder (a spontaneous caster class similar to the beguiler, but focused on abjuration, divination, and transmutation, developed for my campaign)
.
To the amazement of all present, Paris defeated all challengers in Lazare's dragonchess tourney, humbling Balabar Smenk, Khellek, and Lazare himself in turn and winning the 500-gp prize. Shortly thereafter, the party (having spoken briefly with Ellivial Moonmeadow, and determined to speak more with him in the near future as he seems to possess important information about the last time worm-tainted zombies roamed the hills) repaired across the street to the Feral Dog.
There, after some interaction with the adventurer Tirra, the bartender surreptitiously made them aware that Kullen and his gang were in one of the rooms below. The seven of them descended and made it clear to the hired bouncer at the door of the private room that now might be a good time to go have a drink at one of the other bars in town, and oh, here was some money to buy a few rounds. The bouncer, sensing their intentions and never one to turn down a decent bribe in a town like this, took the hint and headed up the stairs.
Samson, Mac, and Geert made their way quietly inside, while the remainder of the party waited in the corridor. Though they attempted to reason the information they wanted out of Kullen, it quickly became apparent that he had been warned they were coming -- by none other than the cleric Ioio, Halo, and Mac had interrogated. Battle soon erupted and a dirty brawl of a melee ensued. The others in the party piled into the room, and soon spells were flying and weapons clashing everywhere. Though most of the fighters in Kullen's gang quickly were disabled, Kullen himself was harder to defeat, and the enchanter Merovinn Bask made his presence felt with both sleep and color spray. In the middle of the combat, the cleric/warlock Jabrun Kaleel (having waited outside, cloaked) ambushed the rear ranks of the party and tried to shatter Samson's shield with a baleful utterance. Fortunately, his aim was surprisingly poor (or the PCs had luck on their side), and as the last members of Kullen's gang were defeated he fled -- who knows where.
Samson, being a merciful sort, chose to bind the wounds of those who had fallen (despite Halo and Vaed suggesting that perhaps it might be better not to leave the gang alive). The party stripped the gang of gear, discovered from Merovinn Bask about the necromancer Filge who had taken up residence in the old observatory, and made their exit with alacrity.
Concerned about reprisal, they swiftly took counsel with the Wee Jas priestess Alys Hong about the necromancer, then spent the night cramped in couch-house rooms rather than their usual dwellings. In the morning, the innkeeper informed them she had gone across the lake to consult with her brethren, but left some curative potions behind to aid with their efforts to defeat the dark wizard. Nervous, but feeling certain that quick consultation with Moonmeadow might provide them with necessary information, the party breakfasted with him, planning to strike at the observatory towards the afternoon.
Moonmeadow was quite forthcoming with information. Having lived in Diamond Lake for some decades, he had seen efforts to raise the unkillable zombies before -- and had lived ever since in preparation for their return. He was, after all, the owner of the only silver mine in town -- and silver was the bane of these foul creatures. His villa was well fortified, and placed directly adjacent to the lake so that if matters came to that he and his sworn men could retreat onto the water where the tainted undead would be unable to follow. And he had much information to grant about the past alliance of the temples of Hieroneous and Pelor, which had so effectively combined efforts in the past to defeat -- or at least lessen for a long time -- the rise of these diseased things.
Having re-equipped and rested, the party set out for the old observatory. After a quiet reconnoiter, they were able to defeat both tomb motes and guarding skeletons without raising too much of a fuss. They wisely left the dinner-table zombies alone, sneaking up the stairs and preparing (as Filge sang happily while he worked) a surprise attack. Then, however, Paris decided to grab the platinum piece off the tongue of the woman's severed head, and the alarm was raised. From above came the sound of shattering glass as Filge cried out "Slay them, my pretties! Slay them and I'll make you some fine brothers!"
Filge cast spectral hand and ghoul touch, and paralyzed Halo with a gesture. Paris retaliated by destroying the disembodied hand with a magic missile... but then the zombies came lurching down the stairs, ready to cut, bludgeon, or slam the party into submission. All looked as though it might swiftly fall into a chaotic brawl, but Samson swiftly raised his holy symbol of Pelor high and destroyed the majority of the undead that faced them. Those that remained were quickly cut down, and from above came a querulous cry of "Um... I give up! I surrender!"
The party tied Filge up and interrogated him, with a gag ready in case he tried to do any more casting. As it turned out, that seemed more or less unnecessary -- the necromancer was eager to babble about his spellcraft, why Smenk had brought him here, the fine potions he'd crafted, what he knew about the cultists beneath the town, the impressive bit of thaumaturgical design that must have gone into the creation of those green worms, and the extraordinary research and work Filge had done to advance the study of necromantic magic. After all, it wasn't as though he'd killed those fine people -- just took advantage of the fact that they weren't needing their bodies anymore. "Nothin' wrong with that, I mean... you don't go fussin' about them other mages with their noses up in the air about doin' all sorts of magical research, now do you?"
Filge managed to convince them, through substantial pleading, not to be given to the Cult of the Green Lady (who, he was sure, would only tie weights to his ankles and throw him in the deepest part of Diamond Lake). Instead the party confiscated his spellbook and, after the sun had set, gave him to Moonmeadow to continue pursuing his research on whatever might be coming. Later, speaking with Alys Hong, they indicated (not entirely untruthfully) that they had taken care of the necromancer and put the undead he had raised to rest, making sure that he would pose no further problems for the town.
The next morning, they set out to rebury the Land skeletons on the farmstead, then proceeded back up to the Whispering Cairn. They lit the seven lanterns, climbed up to the Face in Darkness, and met again with the ghost of Alastor Land. Alastor was more than happy to open the door, knowing that his bones were at last at peace, and faded away with cryptic words about a coming darkness and the part they had to play.
Within, the party watched as the story of the fall of Aaqa was told to them via the steam bas-reliefs -- of the armies of Chaos, of the Wind Dukes' war against them, and of the final defeat of Mishka the Wolf-Spider. As they set foot upon the bridge, the wind warrior guardians sprang forth, but after a short combat in which Ioio's countersong played a surprisingly important part the final guardians were defeated. The party ascended on the pillar of air to Zosiel's true tomb, and rapidly gained access to the items hidden within his sarcophagus.
Thus it was in good spirits that the PCs left Zosiel's tomb and walked back towards Diamond Lake. They had money, they had magicks, and they had proven their abilities together as a newfound team.
... and then, standing in the road back to Diamond Lake, they saw Sheriff Cubbin, his deputies, and twenty guardsmen from the garrison. Balabar Smenk stepped out from behind the guards, pointing an accusatory finger at the party and shouting, "There they are! There are the ones who tried to murder my employees! Arrest them! Arrest them at once!"
So ended session 4.
From our newest player, a recounting of his past and of session 4.
--------
Being the first, and overlong journal of Vaed Ryga, loreseeker, wayfinder of Zagyg the inscrutable.
After my arrest and release in Magnara, all those years ago, I find it hard to be surprised at the turns of fate and chance. I remember clearly my blossoming career wilting when the Reeves wife (who had so much enjoyed my attentions the evening before) ratted me out to her husband and his guards, just because her expensive gown went missing! I thought our tryst would ensure her silence! Perhaps I should have been content with her jewels. Shamelessness is just one thing that no longer surprises.
After I was bailed out of jail and the charges dropped courtesy of my most mysterious mentors, my relation with surprise grew more complex. Living all those years in the hallowed, but not holy grounds of the Arcaneum, I learned to use my unreputable skills for less nefarious, exciting purposes. I was equipped with many other skills, great learning and subtle magics to assist my future career. I stand prepared now to profit my mind above all, and others like myself, so much more rewarding than a swollen merchants purse (which remains somewhat rewarding nonetheless). To my mentors, I thank for teaching me the enriching of my mind.
As my calling, the search of adventure and knowledge has brought me to a horrid town on the edge of Diamond Lake. The town is also called Diamond Lake - and although the town is bursting with mines, as a zombie with worms, none of them dig diamonds. The name is after the diamond shape of the lake, which is obvious to anyone 20 furlongs above. The great and bemused Zagyg founded this cesspool and named the lake I am now living in... Praise his inscrutable humor.
The population of this town is mainly miners, poor folk seeking to spend their blood-bought nuggets in coarser entertainments... I hear they have a two headed calf to gawk at. I should to tell them of the triple-tailed hen of Gallayana and the Hex-eyed snake of Slaathenees. Maybe they can enjoy watching bearded halfling midgets ride their cow when it grows up. Gods bless them, each and every one.
Then there are the "noble" mine owners, hoarding vast wealth in vast palaces, set snug amongst the hovels and vast slums of their slaves. "A Kobold adorned with dragons claws, or tooth or horn, yet remains what he was born of old... a Kobold".
The air is foul with powdered slag, iron dust, sweat, cheap liquor, petty human interactions and steaming greed. Nothing else seems to lie within the confines of this encampment of rapine and vulgarity. On a positive note, it is a perfect place to find adventure!
Although it may surprise my early trainers at the Arcaneum, it is truly not for any of this mineral wealth or vulgar entertainment I lust. I can feel an overwhelming desire for lost secrets and arcane power, lying just north in the endless cairns stretching far away. Underground chambers filled with the ruins of a lost race, or the temples of ancient gods. Perhaps even here, the miners will uncover some ancient tunnels and the confused news of it will reach my ears.
To be honest, I see my own weaknesses, and my limitations. I know that without reliable company, I stand little chance of entering more than the antechamber to peer into a dusty chamber pot of such haunts. So, I have haunted about for a little less than a week, hoping to find some persons or demi-persons of strong fiber to accompany me to explore these graveyards of lost secrets.
A strange feeling came over me the other day, and I was urged to attend some kind of game that the locals called Dragonchess, which I saw as related to the ancient and tedious game of Shadalanja; but with Sylphs, Griffins, Unicorns, Basilisks and even Dragons for pieces. Although I did not understand the variant rules at first glance, it was obviously something Zagyg created as a great challenge -- in order to waste our short lives -- increasing his amusement. The game uses small pieces resembling human warriors, priests, paladins, and even rogues. Imagine grown men playing adventure-games with children's figures! I must send a set of pieces and a transcription of the rules to the Arcaneum!
As I was saying, my attendance at this event was unnatural, perhaps it was a desperate attempt to hobnob with the more "elite" members of the community and discover those with skills other than digging, cleaning, hoarding and counting rocks. For indeed, this is exactly what I found! After the game was over, I had a short but intense conversation with a powerful mage (who immediately and rudely threatened my life), as well as an erratic adventurer, who seemed to take every statement I made as a desire to discharge .. ahh... er... Boccobs wondrous wand ... in a most un-arcane fashion ...
I must confess, I have not become more skilled with my poor social skills since leaving the Arcaneum, but I feel that this flub with the crotch-obsessed cutpurse was not entirely my doing. A few minutes later, I gathered that the pervert was with a band of actual adventurers, who had the air of buried secrets about them... and so I followed them, despite my misgivings toward the first.
This group, or perhaps I should say, small mob has several persons of note, the most obvious being a species I have only heard of in legend: a Goliath (unimaginatively a name meaning "giant" in some religious scribblings). He is indeed a giant, and quite useful too, as he is carrying most of the load that we would normally place upon an entire herd of mules. There is also a monk-swordsmaster who spends all his free time playing stack-a-stone with crude rocks, building teetering towers. There is a sanctified and most likely sanctimonious priest of the prosaic Pelor *yawn*. There is also a arcanist/sorcerer type who must be more brilliant than he appears, as he won the Dragonchess tourney, always hanging by the overly loquacious bard, who has both talked himself into and out of trouble several times a day. As I have mentioned, their rogue was there, but as I have not mentioned, he is wearing bright, candy red armor, and he is a "stealth" expert.
True to my insight, immediately they delved, not into a lost temple, filled with dark secrets, but into an even more dreadful tavern directly across the town square. What's more, is immediately after entering, the band crashed a private party and nearly killed the hideous revelers in attendance, who are by all accounts better off dead. I, myself rushed into the ridiculous fracas and was quickly dispatched by what looked (for the moment I was awake) like a common, showy evocation. Sigh.
As I awoke, my companions were healing and showing other mercies to their victims! An act of pious charity inspired by their Solar-Priest, no doubt. Not to my surprise, they then greedily despoiled the victims of all but their skins and then rapidly left the scene-- as the sad criminals they knew they were --- I worry that all this lawlessness will soon result in cruel payback.
It is interesting to note that the moral types of our world are so often concerned with one tenant, and yet completely ignore others. For example, how is it true, good, right or noble to bribe a guard, attack a room full of private persons, rob them of every valuable, and leave them naked on a bar room floor? What would Pelor say? Tactfully, I did not engage them in quibbles about their vaunted ethics. Boccob the obscure and Zagyg the mad are far more comprehensible.
From the survivors, our band interrogated a wizard and finally, something interesting did catch my ear... apparently, there is Necromancy about ...
For now we were off to true adventure ... in a Fairy-lord's pleasure-palace! The Elf and his "man-servant" treated us to gay pasties and a fine, strong but sensual chardonnay. I myself did not partake from his fruity table. The rouge-rogue passed completely on this brightly flaming banquet of quips.
This time, no thanks to the Elf, we finally did something interesting -- a true to life Necromancer's lair -- 300 feet out, right in sight of the town. I have been around a week and have been 300 feet from a practicing Necromancer! Neutral Lord, I think I am not suited for this career -- I am SUPPOSED to find forgotten dungeons and lost tombs miles from civilization, while sniffing out and extracting forgotten treasures to glorify Zagyg and Boccob. While in reality, I spend a week under the shadow of a Necromancer's tower without noticing the faintest whiff of this most odoriferous profession. I would despair if I were the type.
After a tangle with what I assume to be several colonies of undead earthworms (from whom I am now diseased) we rolled the place over without a serious fight. All of this was made possible by the Solar Saint and Pelor's Powerful Pendant. Perhaps I can come to tolerate his pontifications.
Suffice it to say that the most interesting thing about this Necromancer is that instead of terrible monstrosities to terrorize the city, he has constructed a menagerie of tortured souls to compliment and flatter him at the dinner table. Seriously.
Some of the more sanctimonious of my companions seem to think that this "evil" is so great that he must be turned over to some higher authority... Gods forbid that he create even more horrors, like a bedroom full of decaying damsels, programmed to make ghastly innuendi and serve necromantically enhanced libidinoids! The evil!
Perhaps I should as by chance, open two dictionaries side by side-- one to the term "disgusting" and the other to "sinister" and point out to the mob that although they are VERY loose metaphors of the others, their meanings are not coincident. ALAS! this would assume that my self-satisfied companions can read, or if capable, would bother to do so.
Furthermore, because of this moral panic, they have turned him and much of his valued Necromantic lore over to the Fairy Lord for "safekeeping". Fortunately, I managed to stash quite a few scrolls into my bags, and the Giant is carrying the Necromancers spell book. This should be quite interesting reading in my spare time.
Finally, we went into one of the safer Cairns in these hills, but most of it had earlier been ransacked by my new friends. In fact, there was just one unexplored chamber that we entered, and it seemed to contain a handful of magically animated wall-murals depicting an ancient war between forces of law and chaos, the law side being connected to the force of wind via the element of air. Wind = law? These wind powers are also referred to as the powers of "Aaqa". Wind = aaqa?
Apparently, the wind-law-lords or Aaqa won some ancient battle and then lost their lives immediately after, this being one of their tombs. To tell you the truth, at this point I am horribly confused, as no-one explained anything prior to me, so I did not truly understand any of the lore I witnessed.
Several of these Wind-beings attacked us, making quite a racket with their wind powers. Despite their incorporeal forms, they fell to the steel weapons of the warriors. My arrows seemed quite useless.
Although I wisely suggested we convert either the Necromancer's tower or the Wind-lords palace to a safe-house, my companions decided that we head back to town to speak again with the Elf-Lord. I have a bad feeling about all this.
Age of Worms (session 5): Three Faces of Evil.
This session's characters included:
* Samson, human cleric of Pelor 3.
* "Mac", goliath warblade 2.
* Geert, swordsage 3.
* Halo, aasimar rogue 2. (Crunk, half-orc barbarian 1/fighter 2.)
* Ioio, human bard 3.
* Vaed, human wayfinder 3
(Paris's player was unfortunately called away for a business trip to Taiwan.)
.
Arrested by the garrison and detained in Sheriff Cubbin's cells, the PCs (and a drunken, unconscious half-orc snoring in one of the other cells) wait for what seems like an eternity. Outside, the St. Cuthbertine priest Jieran Wierus rails against their imprisonment as just another example of the preposterous privilege and influence the corrupt mine managers wield. Time passes slowly, and Wierus's impromptu sermon continues unabated.
They quietly discuss escape, but in the end an unobtrusive visit from Allustan (the Smartest Man in Diamond Lake (TM)) helps them decide to remain and see what might come to pass. Later in the day, Tirra (the elvish rogue come to town with the Free City's gladiatorial champion Auric and the wizard Khellek) peers in through the cell window and subtly slips a knife to Halo. All in all, though, the day passes nearly without event, and one by one that evening each of them drops into slumber.
Balabar Smenk makes an appearance in the middle of the night. Sometime between the party dozing off and Smenk's arrival, Halo chooses to make his own way and picks the locks of his manacles and his cell, leaving the rest of the party to fend for themselves. Smenk, eager to manipulate and blackmail the aasimar into doing his bidding (as Halo had previously worked nigh-exclusively for his rival Luzanne Parrin), was displeased at his absence but pushed on regardless.
It came down to a choice: suffer the full extent of Smenk's negative attentions for the attack on Kullen and his gang (acts normally ignored or swept under the rug in Diamond Lake, but which with a mine manager pushing for punishment might end in a years-long sentence to hard mining deep in the bowels of the earth), or do Smenk a little favor and eliminate the dark cultists which he had been manipulated into supporting by Ragnolin Dourstone. Smenk even sweetened the deal a bit, telling them that for their efforts he would pay them a hundred gold and they could keep whatever loot they found in the hidden temple. The half-orc in the cells across the way (whose name turns out to be Crunk) is also included in this deal -- and the party, feeling they might need whatever muscle they could get, accepts Crunk's help.
Without better options presenting themselves, the party accepts and are released from jail with all their belongings. The next morning, they resupply and quickly consult with Ellivial Moonmeadow about the cultists and entrances to Dourstone's mine. As it turns out, Moonmeadow had been hearing rumors about the rumblings beneath the earth himself. Moonmeadow had dispatched an agent into an old abandoned cross-passage of one of his own mines, one which indirectly connected to Dourstone's. His agent hadn't been heard from since, but perhaps this route could also serve the party... as long as they might bring back some news about his long-missing agent.
Feeling confident, the party followed Moonmeadow and a pair of his guards into the dark tunnels, down to the abandoned mine-passage. Moonmeadow wished them luck as his men pried back the boards, and into the unknown they went. Despite a somewhat detailed map, the party got a bit turned around in the darkness, and as a result it took them several hours to reach their presumed goal -- another boarded up passage (complete with signs warning of an unstable passage), but this one showing a great deal more in the way of footprints in the dust on the floor.
Disregarding any noise that might be created, the party muscle hammers their way through this barrier. Despite the racket, though, no-one nearby seems to notice and the party quickly finds their way past the boards to a crude elevator and descending shaft. The six of them squeeze aboard and lower themselves down several hundred feet, eventually emerging into a vast hall -- the Ebon Triad's Dark Cathedral. Immediately, they are challenged by a trio of tiefling guards, two of which engage them while a third runs down a passage to the east to hammer on the doors. The warriors of the party are able to eliminate him and his fellow guards quickly, but there is some uneasiness nonetheless about who may have overheard. The party quietly waits, listening, to make sure that no other attention has been drawn, with a portion of them investigating each passageway off the Cathedral. One is marked with the symbol of Hextor (which was where the tieflings were running to). One is marked with the symbol of Vecna, along with some kind of warding symbol. A third bears no markings at all -- and that one the party takes to be Erythnul's quarter.
Unable to penetrate the locks on either the Vecna or Erythnul areas (yes, the DM revealed a bit of the plot railroad here) the party cautiously makes their way towards the Hextor area. Just inside the door stand more than half a dozen suits of armor with gnoll skeletons inside, and as the party enters they spring to life and set the bells on their armor aclanging. Samson, thinking fast, raises high the holy symbol of Pelor and dispels the unlife from the undead, but the alarm has already been raised and cultists and more tieflings pour out of adjoining rooms. A huge melee erupts, but between Crunk's enormously powerful greataxe blows and Mac's wickedly oversized spiked chain, they cut through the ranks of the cultists like reapers through wheat. Even the release of a kept Beast (a displacer beast) is not able to stem the tide of the party's advance, and Samson's efforts keep the warriors on their feet as they fight their way down a corridor towards the main Battle Temple.
A few of the cultists and tieflings flee to the temple, shouting about invaders, and Crunk (lost in blood-rage) pursues them unthinking. And that's where everything starts to go wrong.
The priests of the temple, along with a pair of zombies, a Hextorite crusader, and a fresh handful of tiefling guards, stand ready for battle -- and Crunk, rage exhausted, quickly falls beneath their assault. Mac and the others try their best to retrieve his fallen form, but in doing so the opposing crusader falls upon them and in an eyeblink Mac is down as well. Samson heals Mac and gets him on his feet for a few seconds, but then a greataxe-wielding tiefling leaps forward and cuts the goliath down again just as the party had begun to regroup. This time, there is no saving him, and the party quickly goes from withdrawal to retreat to panicked rout. They barely make it back to the elevator shaft and up without being pincushioned by tiefling arrows.
(In all, the first battle of the Temple of Hextor went an agonizing 17 rounds.)
So ended session 5.
From the Papers of Samson Pryce:
My Dear Brother Edmund-
I hope this letter finds you healthy and in good spirits, as I
write this with the heaviest of hearts. As I was telling you in my
last letter, we were setting out to finish exploration of the
Whispering Cairn, and we did just that. We fought off the guardians of
the tomb, and reaped the rewards of such. However, we were interrupted
on the way back, being accused of attempted to murder the corrupt mine
manager Balabar Shmenk's minions. Not wanting a fuss and suspecting
the situation would right itself, I put my trust in Pelor, and
surrendered peacefully.
During our incarceration, that sneak thief Halo escaped in the night......I can't say I will miss his company as he was a cowardly and suspicious type. I was correct about our situation at any rate, as Balabar himself made us an offer I would have hard pressed to refuse: he had been working with the foul Ebon Triad, a secret society composed of worshippers of Hextor, Nerull, and Vecna. He gave us some scant intelligence on the cult, and we were freed....but not without Shmenk taking Parris with him as "collateral".....a move we foolishly agreed to that cost us in spades later on. There was a half-orc imprisoned at the same time we were detained....something about killing men in a bar fight. He accompanied us to make up for the loss of Parris, and we proceeded to sell and divvy the spoils of our last excursion.
After making some important visits, we set out towards the hidden temple with the help of one of our patrons. We descended in a long elevator, where we were accosted by several tiefling warriors, whom I had been prepared for. We dispatched them fairly quickly, and had almost wondered if they had succeeded in raising an alarm, but they had not. We examined the chamber we found ourselves in, and found what appeared to be a sacrificial pool and three doors, two marked with the symbols of Vecna and Nerull, which we were unable to gain access to. We proceeded to go down the hallway, and we were met in a room by many skeletal fiends, whom we dispatched with some timely blows, and from no small amount of help from Pelor. It was then we were met by the main resistance force of some human soldiers and some tieflings, whom we slowly chopped into with great success. We encountered some trouble when a displacer beast that they had been keeping was brought out for the attack, but he was quickly felled thanks in no small part to the mighty blows of "Crunk", the half-orc. The remaining forces retreated into the larger room behind them, and we prepared to regroup and rally, and then Crunk ran screaming after the Hextorites.
And that's where everything fell apart.
We were met by a large force of clerics, zombies, additional
tieflings, and a mighty warrior, and we broke against them like a wave
against a cliff. First, Crunk fell. Then, I failed to utterly destroy
the zombies. Then, Mac was nearly downed. We were simply outnumbered,
and poor teamwork and strategy on our part did NOT help. Eventually,
it was clear that retreat was the only option for survival, and we did
so.
However, much to my shame, Mac bled out and died as we tried to
make our escape. I tried everything, EVERYTHING, that Brother Merrin
taught me, and make no mistake, I saved my own hide. But I completely
and utterly failed to save Mac, even after I told him in retreat that
I wouldn't abandon him. I feel some guilt about the half-orc as he was
a worshipper of Pelor, and he did turn the tide early on somewhat, but
it could be argued that his impulsive fervor put us in the situation
that we found ourselves in.
We are taking a brief rest before we retrieve our companion
Parris, and hopefully, find a companion as mighty as Golmackin. But I
won't fail Mac in his death the way I failed him in life. I will
avenge him, and we will crush the evil that lies hidden beneath
Diamond Lake. Make no mistake, little brother.....this priest of Pelor
was ready for battle before.......but now he is ready for war.
Your Loving Brother,
Samson Pryce, Servant of Pelor
Age of Worms (session 6): Three Faces of Evil.
This session's characters included:
* Samson, human cleric of Pelor 3.
* Rex, human crusader of Heironeous 3.
* Geert, human swordsage 3.
* Paris, human warmage 3.
* Ioio, human bard 3.
* Vaed, human wayfinder 3.
.
Bloodied and battered, the party makes their way out through Dourstone's dark tunnels into the fading light of day. The Moonmeadow guard left at the entrance stares at them in horror as they stagger out of the passage. "Gods, what happened to you?"
Samson clears his throat and rasps, "We ran into more opposition than we expected. Two of our number fell in battle." The party needs to heal, regroup, and re-equip before going back in.
The guard shoots a nervous glance at the now-open tunnel and then back at the party. "Oh! Um. Well then. I'll just... come with you and escort you to Moonmeadow, shall I?"
Moonmeadow seems disheartened at the news. Although the party mentions the possibility of reinforcements, he regretfully states that he cannot spare any more men from his personal retinue -- but that the garrison might be able to help. In quick succession, the party stops by the Temple of Pelor (for healing), the garrison (for possible reinforcements and to let the commander know what is afoot), and Smenk's (for Paris). Additionally, they make the acquaintance of Rex, a crusader of Heironeous recently dispatched to the garrison to investigate reports of the unkillable zombies in the nearby Cairn Hills. They bunk down and attempt to get some rest.
That night, though, as the reunited party sleeps in one of the auxilliary garrison barracks room, one of them is awakened by the scrape of a foot outside -- the scrape of a foot, and the mutter of voices in a language other than Common! Suspicious, the rest of the party is quickly wakened -- and just in time, as the door is kicked in and darkness floods the room. A violent scuffle breaks out under cover of the unnatural gloom, with humanoids wildly swinging morningstars, the party dodging and counterattacking, and a shout for help going up in a moment. Despite the cover of darkness, the party is able to quickly defeat their attackers and kill the tieflings who had generated the magical darkness -- revealing a raiding party of eyeless grimlocks lying dead on the floor.
An attempt to interrogate the one surviving tiefling goes poorly, as he head-butts an interrogator in the groin and tries to make a run for it before being slain. Nonetheless, the presence of these nonhuman raiders (and a dead guard on the garrison walls) helps to persuade Commander Tolliver Trask that whatever this threat is, it's real. He dispatches a half-dozen soldiers to aid the party in their renewed assault on the cultists. Additionally, Samson is able to persuade the head priest of Pelor to aid them by sending a pair of acolytes along for magical support, and the Heironean paladin Melinde also volunteers to join their efforts.
Fully healed and re-equipped (with arrows, plenty of rope, and various other sundries), the party returns to the dark mine tunnels the following morning. They quickly make their way back through the mine to the elevator entrance... but where before the lift was at the top of the shaft, now it has been lowered down to the bottom. Vaed, the wayfinder, volunteers to cast reduce person on himself and be lowered down on a rope just far enough to scout out what might be going on in the Dark Cathedral. It seems unlikely, after all, that the cultist hub will be left entirely unguarded. The party quickly and quietly lowers him down -- fifty feet, a hundred, a hundred fifty -- beside another rope that he may tug on to silently signal his wishes to the top of the shaft. They stop him about 175 feet down, 25 feet from where the bottom of the shaft opens up into the Cathedral, and though he can make out some light below and some vague shadows he cannot see much. They lower him just a bit further at his request, and he can make out just the feet of half-a-dozen humanoids loitering in the chamber, chatting idly in some savage, unknown language.
The scouting completed, the party hauls him back up the shaft with alacrity and confers. After some discussion, and the realization that not only can Vaed cast feather fall but that they still have the ring of feather falling from the Whispering Cairn, a plan is hit upon. The soldiers and acolytes will remain at the top of the shaft for the moment. Three of the party -- Vaed, Rex, and Samson -- will take the quick descent via feather fall. The other three -- Ioio, Paris, and Geert -- will be lowered down on ropes just to the edge of the shaft, waiting for the feather fallers to pass them and so coordinate their assault. Geert in particular will be key to this plan, with his newfound ability to shadow-jaunt some fifty feet in a single move.
The plan is executed with nigh-perfect precision -- the fallers tumbling neatly out of the shaft precisely at the same time the rope-climbers descend and Geert pops into place at the entrance to the Hextor complex. The guarding grimlocks are united in their expressions of "What the...?" as the party comes spilling out of the elevator shaft, and despite the grimlock efforts to fight or flee the guards are swiftly cut down. Having secured the Cathedral, the party quickly raises the elevator back up to the main tunnel above and ferries down the soldiers and acolytes. United once again, they cautiously approach the Hextor temple for the second time in as many days.
The door, quite naturally, is closed -- but it also appears to have been braced in their absence. Lacking the means to subtly get past the barrier, Rex batters it down with a single mighty blow, and so battle is joined again.
In their absence, the Hextorites have not been lazy. Inside the antechamber, amidst the shattered bones and bloodstains, crouches a zombified displacer beast, who yowls at them and attacks with bells on its harness ringing out. Unfortunately, it is too powerful an undead creature for Samson's turning abilities to affect, and so the group must hack it down with blades before they can proceed. By that time, the alarm has already been noted -- and the party, staring down the corridor into the battle temple, can see a trio of undead tiefling guardians in front of Hextor's statue. Behind the tiefling zombies Mac's corpse has been left displayed in hideous mockery, lashed to a weapons-rack with his own spiked chain, and in the distance behind the statue they can see other forces marshalling to counter their attack.
Samson raises high his holy symbol and again invokes Pelor, this time to greater success -- the zombie guardians collapse, and there is the sound of weapons and armor clattering to the ground on both sides of the entrance to the temple (where animated skeletons must have been waiting). But those are not the only defenders available to the Hextorites -- the remaining tiefling guards, the battle-tested cultists who had survived yesterday's attack, the bugbear zombies, the crusader Garras, the cleric Kendra, and the highpriest Theldrick all stand in opposition. Most horribly, as the defenders come forth, Mac's body lurches into a horrible mockery of life, raising high its spiked chain and shambling towards the party.
A furious, grinding marathon of a melee erupts again, pitting Heironean crusader against Hextorite crusader and troops against troops. A fiendish ape summoned by Theldrick tears into the inexperienced ranks of the party soldiers and acolytes, killing or disabling many before it vanishes back into nothingness. Melinde falls in the corridor, trying vainly to stem the rush of defenders, and bleeds out in the confusion. Samson cripples the Hextorite priestess Kendra by casting heat metal on her not-insignificant armor, and she burns to death clawing helplessly at her own protection. Mac's zombie, having wreaked terrible wrath upon the party and the troops with its enormous strength and spiked chain, finally is destroyed by Paris's repeated castings of disrupt undead. Ioio provides vital support to the entire group with his bardic song, before being hampered by a spell of silence. Rex proves a vital bulwark to the party, soaking up enormous amounts of damage and providing immeasurably useful defensive tactics (which certainly kept more of the party from being killed). And Theldrick, despite fighting furiously and nearly cutting Rex down with a smite and an inflict serious wounds, is grappled and finally slain.
(In all, the second assault went a full 18 rounds of constant combat from the time the party broke in the door to the time they finally took out Theldrick. The party lost four of the six soldiers and one of the two acolytes -- the other was unconscious but stable -- but despite ferocious opposition did not lose any more PCs.)
So ended session 6.
(Theldrick cast desecrate on the statue of Hextor in the battle temple, and used that as a focus to animate dead much more effectively than he otherwise would be able to. With 20 HD of animateable dead to animate, he chose the displacer beast (6 HD), three tieflings (2 HD each), Mac (2 HD), and six cultists (1 HD each) -- creating a 12 HD displacer beast zombie, three 4 HD tiefling zombies, a 4 HD Mac zombie (with 22 STR and a large spiked chain), and six 1 HD cultist-skeletons. They gained substantial benefits from the desecrate, both combat-wise and being harder to turn, and helped make the second assault a much tougher battle than it otherwise would have been.)
From Paris's letters:
.
Dear Father Pisanio,
I write to you in need of guidance. Samson and I have fallen in with a
group of adventurers in the course of our duties at the garrison in
Diamond Lake. You remember what I have told you of Samson, right?
The group initially began exploring a cairn in the pursuit of wealth
and fame, but we have soon encountered evil that is a danger to the
entire town of Diamond Lake and with all likelihood the world beyond.
It appears we are stumbling across the machinations of evil cults
trying to bring about something called "the Age of Worms."
We defeated a necromancer holed up in an abandoned tower. The
necromancer hails from the city of Greyhawk, and claims the name of
Filge. His countenance is strange to me however -- he bears no
resemblance to the description of "foul necromancers" from your weekly
sermons. He seems almost to be a necromantic researcher of some sort.
This Filge repeatedly raided graves for already dead bodies to fuel
his necromantic experiments, but as far as I can tell restricted his
necromantic activities to those already dead.
After defeating him our group had disagreement about how to dispose of
Filge. We had originally agreed to bring him to justice and hand him
over to the Priesthood of Wee Jas.
After some discussion, we decided to deliver Filge to Moonmeadow, an
elf who commands a stronghold in the center of town. It was due to two
reasons: some in the group questioned if Filge deserved the cruel
death he would receive at the hands of the cultists of Wee Jas, and it
was possible that Moonmeadow could use his knowledge to combat a
plague of near invulnerable zombies threatening the nearby swamp. The
zombies seem to be part of a prophecy describing how this "Age of
Worms" will come about.
Did we do right by Pelor? As I think back on our actions, how can we
justify letting one who would defile Pelor's grace by robbing the
graves of those laid to rest and enslave the souls of those whom
should be enjoying their well deserved rest?
Does the need to combat a greater evil excuse our leniency in this circumstance?
The other thing that haunts me is the loss of one of our group members
-- the goliath Gol'Mackan. We were shanghaied into aiding an
unscrupulous mine manager by the name of Balabar Smenk. It was he that
directed the actions of the necromancer Filge. Again, the actions that
we took were to combat this greater evil, but how can Pelor excuse
such associations?
I know Samson feels the responsibility for the death of Gol'Mackan
lies at his feet. To force the cooperation of our group, this Smenk
forced me to remain at his manor while my comrades fought cultists of
Hextor.
Is it possible Pelor's displeasure at our actions regarding the
necromancer indirectly lead to Gol'Mackan's death? I feel it in my
bones that with my aid in the combat, we may not have succeeded, but
we would have been able to retreat with our fallen comrades.
When we returned to defeat the followers of Hextor, they were finally
defeated. They had chained the soul of Gol'Mackan into serving them,
but we were at the least able to free him from those bonds.
I remain troubled by our actions and humbly await your words of wisdom.
Paris
It's been quite some time since I last posted on the campaign, but it hasn't fallen by the roadside -- it's just that the DM and many of the players had to put it slightly aside for a summer hiatus. Here's the summarized updates on what has happened since.
The PCs basically steamrollered through the Temple of Erythnul. They had some trouble with the chasm and the rope bridge, and I scared the hell out of them by having the female barbarian jump out of the tunnel, grapple Geert as he was climbing down, and succeed on the grapple check to make HIM take the falling damage instead of her, then fight her way through the party, back up into the tunnel, through it and down to nearly death-from-above the party cohort while they were fighting the otyugh I put down there in place of the chokers. Still, they managed quite ably against the chieftain and the other grimlocks -- Vaed turned Kullen's greataxe against the chieftain by hitting him repeatedly with backbiter, which REALLY turned the combat around. And though they had some trouble with Grallak Kur and the shaman-bodyguards, for the most part they were nowhere near as hard-pressed as they had been in the Temple of Hextor.
The party had a hell of a tough time taking on the Temple of Vecna, though. The labyrinth's kenku sniped away at them, Geert had been abducted by the Faceless One's ninja bodyguard (the player missed a session and that was how I explained it away), and a charmed Crunk nearly cut Samson in half before Ioio was able to counteract the magic by charming Crunk himself. Eventually, they made their way through the confusing passages, aided ably by Vaed's castings of detect secret doors. Samson sent the allip scampering with no trouble at all, and the party came in through the storeroom door with only a moderate amount of noise. Then everything went to hell.
The Faceless One (as redesigned by me into an ex-Twilight Monastery swordsage grasping at knowledge and arcane power -- a swordsage 2/conjurer 3/"Ebon" (Jade) phoenix mage 4) and his ninja-swordsage bodyguard nearly butchered the party. Fiendish centipedes served as the Faceless One's meatshields, while his bodyguard A'Gon used improved feint and paired daggers to inflict huge damage and take Crunk, Geert, and the party cohort Deodawan to negatives. Though a well-placed silence spell hampered the Faceless One and his apprentices for a bit, sculpted incendiary slime, burning hands, color sprays, and a handful of apprentice-cast spells had the PCs on their heels for most of the combat. Only after recovering from a color spray did Rex land a couple of lucky blows and the Faceless One fled for the Dark Cathedral. The PCs took sufficient time to get more or less healed up (with potions and Samson's reserve healing feat), then pursued.
In the Cathedral, they found the Faceless One atop the balcony, calling forth... something... from the black liquid. Though the PCs quickly cut their way through summoned creatures and apprentices, they lost Crunk and Deodawan to an extended manyjaws along the way. With each enemy that fell, a plume of blood-colored smoke poured from the body and spiraled into the liquid... and when the PCs (specifically Geert) managed to finally down the Faceless One, I read them this:
Your weapon tears deeply into the Faceless One, and his mask topples aside to reveal a pale, nearly featureless face behind. But even as you've landed your mortal blow, he is somehow horribly grinning at you, choking words out through the blood spilling from his lips.
"You have done... precisely... as I'd hoped..."
The blood from his wounds drips off the platform's edge, spilling into the black pool below. The Faceless One hisses one last, incomprehensible word and then throws himself backwards -- off of your weapon, off of the raised platform itself. Time seems to slow down just for an instant -- the wizard's body plummeting towards the liquid, while blood and soul-smoke pour out of his mouth -- before the corpse strikes the surface and is enveloped.
For a moment, there is silence, broken only by your panting breaths.
And then the liquid of the dark pool begins to bubble and boil and undulate, as though something enormous is moving just below the surface. A huge clawed hand -- thrice as large as any man's -- reaches up out of the pool and latches on to the stone lip ... and it is joined by another... and a third... as a blackened abomination the likes of which you've never seen pulls itself out of the pool and snarls with fury at all of you.
Roll initiative.
Thus came the Ebon Aspect. It was a hell of a tough fight, but in the end they did manage to down it without a single loss -- crusaders are TOUGH BASTARDS, I'm telling you.
So ended session 10 or so.
In the aftermath of the party's defeat of the Ebon Triad, the Faceless One's bodyguard A'Gon got away -- they left him for unconscious/dead, but he was faking. And that's how we came to this intermediate session, which I ran for Geert, Paris, and Ioio to help them make up XP for missing one session apiece.
------------
In the wake of the Ebon Triad's defeat, as the party returned more-or-less triumphantly to the surface (as, presumably, Rex took the Ebon Aspect's head as proof of the defeated menace), it was revealed that several things had taken place while adventures had been going on below. Here's what happened shortly thereafter:
* Balabar Smenk is dead. They say someone came into his townhouse, killed his guard animals, and stabbed him to death. His attacker (or attackers?) then cut off his head, put a pouch filled with silver in his mouth, and removed his left eye and left hand. Investigations are proceeding from the garrison and the sheriff's office, but few in town have much confidence about either at this point.
* The trio of adventurers Auric, Khellek, and Tirra returned from the reputedly empty Stirgenest Cairn with a cartful of gold, gems, and other assorted loot, eager to tell stories of hidden chambers and fearsome monsters before they set out with a caravan for the Free City.
* With Smenk's death and the Trio's success, the sellswords and mercenaries who had been lured to Diamond Lake by the promise of income have fallen to gambling and prowling the hills looking for hints of treasure. Little has been found, though, and perhaps a third of the adventuring population which had been present has already left for greener pastures. However, those left are eager to trade.
(Effect of the last: given the wealth of the party, your characters may trade gems/gold/magic for equal value of more or less any magical item, masterwork weapon, or othersuch that you might be interested in. Please document all such interactions/purchases to your DM. *grin*)
In the two to three weeks following the party's return from the Ebon Triad's underground lair, a number of incidents temporarily divide the party.
* Persistent rumors of lizardfolk scouting parties and raids have been drifting over the hills from the Mistmarsh. A substantial portion of the garrison, along with the garrison commander and the Heironean crusader Rex, are dispatched by order of the Free City to investigate these rumors and take action against any lizardfolk they discover.
* Samson is called away to Greyhawk to give a personal report on his recent discoveries and activities to the local hierarchy of the Church of Pelor, which is very interested in any information concerning the Ebon Triad or necromancy.
* Vaed decides to leave Diamond Lake, saying that his search of knowledge leads him ever in exploration of the new and undiscovered.
http://www.wizards.com/rpga/images/lg20071003a_doomgrinderd.jpg
And as for Geert, Paris, and Ioio... well, they too had a bit of an adventure. A couple of weeks after the party's return from below, as their reputations had grown, the trio of adventurers were approached while lunching in Lazare's Gaming House. A merchant, somewhat bedraggled, begged for their assistance -- his caravan had been attacked perhaps a day and a half before, by ogres on the Urnst Trail to the east! Trade goods taken! Guards, slain! His young cousin, travelling to begin her apprenticeship, abducted!
The merchant, Kalteel, explained that he had first been to the garrison, of course, but that an officious lieutenant haughtily explained that the garrison was engaged in the patrol for lizardfolk and could not, at the moment, assist him. Perhaps in a week or two, yes, but... The party, of course, instantly knew just which lieutenant was being discussed. So, for a small initial fee (a small gem each, worth between 50 - 100 gold, plus horses to ride to the site), they agreed to investigate the situation and defeat the ogres.
They rode out that very afternoon, as Kalteel led them to the site where his wagons had been attacked. Though none of the adventurers along was a tracker, they knew enough about basic survival to see the signs of huge humanoid tracks in the dirt. That, combined with Kalteel's indications about which way the ogres had come from and fallen back to, was enough to get them going in the right direction. Kalteel, not being an experienced combatant, chose to stay behind and hold the horses, as well as make a surreptitious camp (as the sun was going down, and twilight was perhaps two or three hours away at most).
The trio set off into the woods, doing their best to follow the signs left behind by the ogres. Geert, generally being the stealthiest, led off. Soon enough, they came to a clearing and discovered an ogre and a worg, dismembering the corpse of a horse. They defeated it handily enough, though Geert took a wound or two in the doing, and after some brief healing continued onwards. After an hour or so of sort of tracking, they came upon another large clearing -- this one along a cliff face, and what seemed to be the ogres' refuge. The party could see one ogre tending a large cauldron, just outside a cave mouth. Another worg, clearly a guard animal, raised its head as Geert tried to make a stealthy approach, and combat ensued.
The ogre by the cauldron dodged back into the cave's entrance, shouting in its guttural language, and then emerged with another while chanting arose from inside the opening. Paris evoked a flaming sphere, which he used to scorch the worg and help defeat it as the ogres moved forward with greatclubs the size of small tree trunks. Their size and strength counted for much, and they inflicted greivous wounds on the party even as a third ogre emerged -- this one carrying strange totems and mystical paraphenelia. Geert used his Sapphire Nightmare Blade technique in combination with his newly discovered Assassin's Stance to come in under the guard of one ogre and cut it down with a devastating blow, but the second knocked him unconscious and then charged Paris. The warmage, not as durable in combat as his companions, also was disabled (by the combination of that and the ogre shaman flinging a magic stone), leaving Ioio to circle through the trees playing tag with the ogre until he was able to down it with crossbow bolts.
In the interim, the ogre shaman dragged Geert's unconscious (though stabilized!) form back into the cave. By the time the shaman emerged again, Ioio had dispatched the other ogre and partially healed Paris. Paris used pyrotechnics on the cauldron's fire to blind the shaman, and with a hail of missile fire he and Ioio were able to cut the creature down with little further harm to themselves. Back in the cave, they found an assortment of loot, Geert, and the young female cousin the merchant had begged them to rescue. Feeling triumphant, they returned to the road... only to discover that neither the merchant nor the horses were there.
Camp that night was a nervous matter, but nothing attacked them in the hours between twilight and dawn. Somewhat recovered, they set out down the road back towards Diamond Lake. Some distance along, they spotted what appeared to be a dead horse propped against a tree by the side of the road. Its throat had been cut, and it was arranged in a mockery of its normal posture.
This, for eminently understandable reasons, made the adventurers (and the young cousin, Yalia, who it turned out was meant to begin an apprenticeship among the druids of the Bronzewood Lodge) more than a bit nervous. They shifted off to the side of the road and made their tedious way through the underbrush and hills, not trusting themselves to avoid being ambushed on the road itself. (Thankfully, they made their Survival checks and didn't get hopelessly lost.) Two hours further towards Diamond Lake, they spotted another horse's body... and several hours after that, as they continued to struggle through the untamed hills, yet another. All of them killed in the same manner, all of them left on display. The party saw at least one caravan heading east along the Urnst Trail, but
Finally, as the sun was drifting towards the western horizon and the trio stood perhaps three or four miles from Diamond Lake, they spotted something else -- a humanoid corpse, lying facedown in the center of the dusty road. Paris stayed behind near Yalia in the trees while Geert and Ioio went to investigate. When they reached the corpse to investigate it, they discovered that it looked a great deal like the merchant who had hired them... and that he had clearly been dead several days, his throat cut.
Just at that time, Paris felt his limbs stiffen with paralysis as he was struck with hold person. A chuckle arose near him, then a chant, and then (as Geert and Ioio moved back into the trees) they were attacked... by the selfsame merchant, casting inflict moderate wounds. With a wicked laugh, the "merchant" pulled back his headscarf and his features swam, revealing the face of the priest that Ioio, Mac, and Halo had interrogated some weeks before -- the priest of Nerull, Jabrun Kalleel!
Jabrun, between eldritch blasts and dodging Geert's blows, explained it thus: "A pity the ogres didn't do their job properly. It would have been so much simpler that way... though perhaps not as satisfying! There was indeed such a merchant. I met the fool on the road east, and decided that such an opportunity could not be passed up. I cut his throat myself, then laid my trap... and you believed every word."
With that, he blasted Geert into unconsciousness. Just then, fortunately, Paris was able to fight his way free of the effects of Jabrun's hold person, and engaged the priest with magic missiles and sundry other spells while Ioio healed and stabilized Geert. Together, the trio (though badly wounded) was able to drive Jabrun into casting invisibility and retreating. They made it safely back to Diamond Lake, and brought Yalia to the Bronzewood Lodge for her apprenticeship.
So ended session 11.
Age of Worms (session 12): Encounter at Blackwall
This session's characters included:
* Samson, human cleric of Pelor 5.
* Rex, human crusader of Heironeous 5.
* Geert, human swordsage 5.
* Paris, human warmage 5.
* Ioio, human bard 5.
.
After regathering in Diamond Lake once their various errands and missions have been fulfilled, the party is for a short time at loose ends. Should they, with their burnished reputations, leave to seek their fortunes in the wider world? The Free City of Greyhawk, after all, lies only a few days' travel to the west, and from that launching point the party could no doubt discover a wealth of adventuring possibilities. Before a final decision can be arrived at, however, Allustan (the Smartest Man in Diamond Lake(TM)) asks whether the party would be available for hire.
Allustan, it turns out, wishes to journey to the not-too-distant Blackwall Keep, several days' ride to the southeast. These rumors and fragmentary bits of evidence pointing towards a picture of worm-tainted zombies disturbs him, and his researches have not settled those concerns. He has decided he would like to consult with his former apprentice, the wizardess Marzena, who is currently stationed at Blackwall Keep with the garrison there. Though he is a capable and powerful wizard, the trip there entails at least two nights spent in the wilderness, and a solitary traveller would run a substantial risk on the road.
The party agrees, and hires on as his bodyguard for the trip to and from Blackwall for 200 gold apiece, plus the purchase of riding animals. (Fortunately, Allustan negotiates for the horses; for some reason, the stable-man in Diamond Lake has been casting a wary eye at Geert, Paris, and Ioio. They have refrained from explaining to the rest of the party just why this might be.)
The next morning, Allustan and the party ride out towards Blackwall Keep. It is a fine sunny day, and the brilliant warmth as spring begins to slowly edge towards summer is a comfort after long hours spent in the chill dark passages and chambers deep beneath Diamond Lake. The day passes near-uneventfully as they make their way southeast, and they see only one other caravan as the hours pass. As sunset nears, the party sets up camp just off the main road and builds a campfire.
An hour or two after sunset, those on watch (Rex and Paris; correct me if I'm remembering wrong, guys) are yawning and bored, but do suddenly see a procession of lights appear, dancing in the distance. Immediately after, a snarl erupts from the thick woods, and a enormous troll charges forth with a roar. Rex heroicly throws himself in the path of the troll, using his shield to block a clawed swipe that might've torn Allustan in half, and battle begins. The noise of melee quickly rouses most of the party, who come awake and are greeted by a hail of crossbow bolts from the woods on the other side of the clearing -- an ambush!
A double handful of kobolds scream for vengeance from the woods, then charge -- and at the same time, from high above, a dark voice incants sorcerous words and sends wrathful magic down upon the party. Bombarded by fire and force, and opposed by the furious troll, the party finds themselves hard-pressed but manage to rally. They down the troll and massacre the kobolds, but only sheer luck saves Paris's life as a fireball comes streaking down from above. Allustan does what he can to counter the sorcerer above, and manages to dispel enough of its prepared abjurations that the party can drive it away -- and in fact, believe they have slain it. Hours of searching in the dark, however, produce no confirmation -- only a trail of broken branches and blood and a potion vial remain of the sorcerer who orchestrated the attack.
(Backstory: these were kobolds related to the ones that the party rousted from the abandoned mining office in the very first session. The sorcerer, Kathak, is another half-black-dragon kobold -- and as he fled he screamed back at the party that the Children of Ilthane would have their revenge. He will be making a reappearance at the Twisted Branch lair, along with Shukak (who I've rewritten to ALSO be a half-dragon -- a lizardfolk warblade 5/fighter 2.) The two will be separate, however -- Kathak will be interrogating the prisoners in the cells, or trying to, using charm person to convince them of his friendship. Shukak will be torturing Marzena in the throne room when the PCs arrive, not so much interested in information (though he is) as in inflicting pain.)
The next morning, battered but more or less intact, the party sets out again. The second day passes almost as uneventfully as the first, and though all are nervous as the sun sets no further ambushes appear.
On the third day of travel, the party stumbles across an ongoing battle -- a raiding band of lizardfolk lead by a lizardfolk druid is trying their damnedest to kill a single fleeing human scout. The scout is hard-pressed and feverish, but the party is readily able to counter the attacks of the raiding band, and it becomes clear that only the timely arrival of the party has saved his life. However, their action was not without consequence -- Allustan, despite (or perhaps because of) effective spellcasting, is bitten by the druid's companion viper and poisoned. Thinking quickly, the smartest man in Diamond Lake gulps down a potion of delay poison (stalling the effects of the venom, which had already dealt him 6 CON damage and, with the wound from the viper's bite, dropped him to 3 hp). But the effects of the potion would only forestall the poison for at most an hour... and so, suddenly, time is of the essence.
The scout, though fevered and apparently somewhat delirious, assures them that Blackwall Keep is perhaps an hour's slow ride ahead -- less, if they hurry. But there may well be a substantial force of lizardfolk marshalling between them and the keep, and that information is what the scout has been trying for days to make his way back there. He, and his scouting party, witnessed scores of lizardfolk of numerous types massing in the Mistmarsh several days past -- and by now, that force may well be besieging the tower.
Everyone mounts up, including the scout on one of the spare horses, and they make haste for Blackwall. The party makes excellent time and meets no further opposition upon the road, but as they draw nearer to the keep it becomes clear that one part of the scout's fears has already come to pass. A force of substantial size sieges the keep, and despite a mix of human, equine, and reptilian corpses on the ground it seems clear that the tower is badly outmatched.
Allustan stares grimly at the tower for a second, his pale features fixed and desperate. "It is worse than I feared. The potion I took will keep the effects of the snake's poison from me for perhaps another five minutes, no more... and I do not think even you can guarantee we can be past the forces against us and within the tower inside of that time."
He pulls a scroll from a case at his belt, and looks around at each of you. "I must use this scroll to return to my manor, where I have means to counteract this poison. It is up to you to counter this assault. I can give you some limited help, but... in this, you must act alone. Once I am back in Diamond Lake, I will rouse the garrison there to bring reinforcements, but there is little chance I can bring them in less than a handful of days."
Quickly, Allustan casts some protective magics on the party members most likely to benefit from them -- resist fire on Rex, and stoneskin on Geert -- before incanting the arcane words on his scroll and teleporting away. The scout who brought the warning is swaying on his feet, sweating profusely, and with concern the party asks him to hide and witness, and try to bring help if things go terribly wrong.
Then, as one, the party turns and moves towards the besieging force. It quickly become clear that there are three small forces taking part in the siege, each with coherent units of lizardfolk:
First, a half-dozen or so lizardfolk in phalanx formations stand ready at the road to the Keep, backed by equal numbers of warriors with guisarmes. A towering blackscale lizardfolk stands beside them, looking longingly towards the ongoing battle for the tower.
Second, there is the force sieging the tower itself: nearly a score of lizardfolk, including two more blackscaled giants and a muscled sword-commander, ready a battering ram and ladders in what is clearly a second attempt to storm the tower.
Third, beyond the corn and wheatfields, stands a reserve force -- a half-dozen or so shield-bearing phalanx-fighters, another pair of blackscaled greatclub-wielding warriors, and a half-dozen surprisingly small lizardfolk archers. They are backed by a gesturing lizardfolk druid and that druid's companion -- a lean, tough-looking fleshraker dinosaur.
Without hesitation, Samson casts an abjurative magic circle against evil, and the party moves forward to engage the attacking force. The battle is long and fierce, filled with heroic efforts and ferocious combat, and each member of the party distinguishes himself in the melee. Ioio bolsters their fighting spirit with his songs, and uses his crossbow to hammer the attackers with quarrels as he convulses vital opponents with maniacal eldritch laughter. Geert moves like a shadow and cuts like a reaping whirlwind, dodging blows so deftly that the stoneskin abjurations Allustan placed on him are scarcely needed. Paris calls fearsome magics down on the heads of the lizardfolk, discovering within himself fiery reserves of arcane power he had, prior to a few days before, never channeled. Samson holds the party formation together with abjurations and healing and divine power, making sure that none fell before the onslaught. Rex, a defensive bastion who refuses to go down even when pelted by half-a-dozen druid-called bolts of lightning, stands firm in his efforts to keep the lizardfolk from overwhelming the party by sheer numbers.
In the end, after long minutes of furious combat, the party stood -- battered, bloodied, and worn -- but all alive. The last of the lizardfolk who had achieved the battlemets of the tower are dispatched. Many within the keep have been slain or gravely wounded, and only a small portion of the original force -- some three dozen soldiers and officers, once -- remain in any way able for combat.
So ended session 12.
(Total opposition faced down included 24 1st level lizardfolk fighters with the Phalanx Fighting feat, 16 guisarme-wielding 1st level lizardfolk fighters, 6 poison dusk lizardfolk 2nd level scouts (who fled into the marshes when it became clear the battle was turning against their force), 5 size-L blackscale ragers (barbarian 1/fighter 2), 1 5th level lizardfolk warblade, 1 6th level lizardfolk druid, and the slightly-advanced companion fleshraker dinosaur. The party had themselves, and I gave them the Keep defenders to run -- 15 or so 1st level human fighters with mostly average stats.)
I know it's been quite some time since my last update, but real life has been distracting me from writing campaign updates even while the campaign itself has gone forward. Hopefully this holiday weekend will allow me to catch up a bit.
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Age of Worms (session 13): Encounter at Blackwall Keep
This session's characters included:
* Samson, human cleric of Pelor 6.
* Rex, human crusader of Heironeous 6.
* Geert, human swordsage 6.
* Paris, human warmage 6.
* Ioio, human bard 6.
Having routed the attacking lizardfolk from their siege of Blackwall Keep, managing to save the badly wounded defenders, the party takes a few moments to catch their breath and staunch their wounds. All seems well, until one of the wounded defenders calls down to them. “Thank goodness you came! Are you our reinforcements? Were you able to intercept the lizardfolk that took the hostages earlier this morning?”
As matters turned out, Marzena had been part of a scouting patrol which had been returning earlier in the day – only to be ambushed and taken outside of the Keep’s walls just past dawn. A detachment of lizardfolk had taken her, and a trio of other soldiers, back into the Mistmarsh perhaps three or four hours earlier.
The party considered their situation – wounded, nearly drained of magical and divine power, and with the Keep in serious need of repairs. Instead of immediately rushing off in pursuit of Marzena, they choose to help the soldiers recover and spend one night at the Keep in recovery. When fully healed and rested the following morning, then they will give chase to the lizardfolk.
Samson’s Pelor-granted touch of healing allows him to tend the serious wounds of all the soldiers who still draw breath, restoring even the most grievously hurt of them to consciousness if not full health. His prayers do some good for the sickened scout they saved on the road to the Keep as well, even though he is not able to fully restore the man’s health.
All the party cooperate in strengthening the Keep’s defenses and offering tactical advice, hoping that their efforts will be enough to support the soldiers until Allustan’s promised reinforcements can arrive. Ioio’s songs keep the soldiers in high spirits, and Rex’s brave example and fine rallying speeches pour courage into them they had not realized they still possessed.
Early the next morning, the five adventurers (accompanied by a pair of soldiers) ride to the marsh's edge. The terrain the lizardfolk fled to is too unstable and shifting to pursue the lizardfolk raiders and their hostages on horseback, unfortunately, and so they set off into the swampy, semi-liquid ground on foot. Despite their relative inexperience with the vast outdoors, the lizardfolk have left a substantial trail behind and the party manages not to blunder into any dangerous natural hazards. They do, however, have more than a few encounters with the denizens of the marshes as they trudge ever-deeper into the rising mists.
The first night out, as the hours slip away towards dawn, the party comes under attack by a ghast and a band of ghouls. Though Geert is on watch, he is caught mostly by surprise and badly wounded. Rex is quickly paralyzed, and only through Samson's doughty resistance and a plea to Pelor does the party manage to avoid serious injury or death. Thereafter, they resolve to keep a closer eye out.
Unfortunately, their inexperience in terrain such as this proves a handicap. The following day, a tussle with giant crocodiles nearly results in Rex being dragged into the swamp and drowned. Paris's evocations and Geert's surprisingly effective grappling techniques turn the tide against the hungry reptiles, and the sole surviving crocodile flees. Geert is less successful against an enormous marsh-snake the day after, and is nearly crushed in its coils before Rex can cut it down.
The third day, they encounter the first lizardfolk patrol they have seen since the siege -- and there, their luck begins to change. Despite protestations from the party, many of the patrols' warriors are heavily antagonistic -- one of their warriors shouts something about these being the same evildoers who sent a plague of worms amongst their eggs -- and combat erupts. However, largely due to Paris's magics, the party manages to defeat the patrol with little damage to themselves – but horrifically, the body of one of the slain lizardfolk erupts into a swarm of feebly writhing green worms. The lizardfolk druid who was with the patrol, and who seeming somewhat convinced by the party's claims of innocence had held back from combat, sees the swarm boil forth and is deeply shaken, calling flame again and again upon the worms until all that remains is a twitching pile of ashes.
In the wake of the sudden incineration, and with the remainder of the patrol slain or fled, the lizardfolk druid calls for a parley. The druid – and it is unclear whether the reptile is male or female – is named Hishka, and tells the adventurers of what events have overtaken the Tribe of the Twisted Branch. Two years past, a plague of writhing green worms infected the tribe’s eggs, devouring and destroying many of the tribe’s next generation. Shortly thereafter, a strange and powerful lizardfolk champion named Shukak came to them from afar – a gladiator and warrior who fought his way free of slave’s chains in the distant city of Greyhawk, come back to lead this tribe and others back to the path of glory and dominion. Many in the tribe listened to him, and his words were persuasive… particularly after he made a pact with an enormous black dragon.
That dragon, she who the tribe now calls “the Dark Mother”, avowed that the worm-plague had come from Greyhawk. She offered to set her efforts to protect the tribe’s new clutch of eggs, setting powerful guardians (her own child and a many-headed creature known solely as “the Beast”) and loyal kobolds to watch over both the tribe’s eggs and one of her own.
And so it came to be. The Beast and the youngling dragon (who calls herself Jahani), and an elite group of kobolds led by a black-scaled kobold sorcerer named Kathak, guard the tribe’s eggs and give assistance to Shukak as he organizes the tribes of the Mistmarsh to march against the encroachment of Greyhawk. But Hishka thinks that there are far too many coincidences – that the champion Shukak appears so quickly after the worm-plague strikes, that both Shukak and Kathak bear striking resemblance to Jahani and the Dark Mother, that only a chosen few are allowed in to the egg chamber to see the tribe’s eggs maturing.
Something, Hishka thinks, is very wrong, and the lizardfolk warrior disintegrating into dying worms is just another sign. He offers the adventurers a proposal of truce: help Hishka rid the tribe of Shukak and Kathak, help to recover the eggs from under the jaws of the Beast, carry the offer of a non-aggression pact to the chiefs of Greyhawk… and the druid will put forth his full efforts to cease the attacks along the Mistmarsh’s borders and re-establish the peace.
The party agrees, and with Hishka’s help they sneak as best they can into the outer tunnels of the tribe’s lair. Hishka charms the guardian manticore, and they move swiftly down the muddied root-tunnels. Ahead, there is a woman’s pained cry, and an angry voice demands answers. The party readies their weapons, comes around the corner, and sees –
A mighty-thewed lizardfolk warrior, powerful and black-scaled, stands before a barbaric throne with an enormous bodyguard. He is shaking a woman (who Paris immediately recognizes as Marzena) like a rag doll. The woman’s hands are already twisted and broken, her jaw swollen with bruises, but still the warrior – Shukak, clearly – queries her impatiently. “Tell me!” he roars. “What did you see? Or must I break each of your bones in turn before you –”
He catches sight of the adventurers, hisses with fury and drops Marzena, turning towards the throne and a massive trident leaned against one of its arms. Marzena scrabbles her way off broken hands and bruised knees, running towards the party with a look of terror on her face, but just as she is about to reach their ranks Shukak turns and flings his trident. That powerful cast takes Marzena full in the back, and the trident’s tines spatter her blood across Samson as she sags into his arms, saying, “No – can’t end like this – must tell Eligos…”
She dies trying to speak.
As Samson looks down at her, the trident tears itself from Marzena’s limp body, flying back across the room into Shukak’s hands. With a roar, the lizard-king hurls himself at the cleric, bringing the trident down in an enormously powerful blow that aims to skewer the priest like a marsh-fish. At the last moment, Rex manages to interpose his shield in an astonishing block, barely deflecting the leaping attack and setting himself squarely in front of the lizard-king’s fury. Blows rain back and forth like lightning between the party, the king and his bodyguard, two dozen attacks or more flashing in the space of a dozen breaths, as muscles strain and blood flows like water. Shukak traps Rex’s sword in the tines of his trident and flicks it aside in a masterful disarming move, leaving Rex to fumble out his less-familiar hammer. Geert and Samson manage to hammer the bodyguard into oblivion while Rex does his best to hold off the mighty Shukak, and Paris pelts the lizard-king with fire and force while Ioio does all he can to supplement the party’s efforts with rallying songs and magicks.
But even Rex’s divine fortitude is tested as the lizard-king nearly eviscerates him with a vicious, twisting blow of the trident. Rex staggers at the strike, nearly dead on his feet, and it is all he can do to hold in his guts as Shukak skips back to gulp down a potion. Just before blackness swirls across Rex’s vision, though, Samson manages to close the worst of the terrible wounds – and in the next moment, Paris punches a hole through the lizard-king’s skull with an orb of fire.
Shaken and breathless, the party tries desperately to recover – they have never faced such a powerful foe before, and they know that only by their combined efforts and astonishing good fortune did they survive.
So ended session 13.