We were confounded by 2nd-level wizard spells because someone, who shall remain nameless, didn't have one of the most ubiquitous 2nd-level wizard spells in the history of D&D in his spellbook! Which, truly, was amusing.
Funny how you don't mention the Cleric failing her level check while trying to dispel the effect. *TEASING*
I'm NOT criticizing the party. I'm noting that it's interesting what turns out to be a challenge based on what a high level party has available to it, and what resources they have that they consider expendable. I think many people consider combat to be the be-all, end-all challenge to a party, often myself included, and I'm learning that's not the case and actually ESPECIALLY for a high-level party, where combat is less of a big deal because y'all are so badass to begin with. (Honestly? I thought the mind flayer should have been much more of a challenge than it was, but y'all were making your saving throws like crazy and I forgot to give him better mobility, and he got several new orfices ripped into him with relatively little damage to the party in exchange. The mind flayer really is a "Save or Die" character--he's useless and squishy, or he kills you.)
And "Knock" may not have fixed all your problems anyway, depending on when you used it, unless you'd had it memorized multiple times (which would you have that prepared multiple times when prepping spells to fight a dracolich and a mind flayer?) or had a wand of it. It only suspends "Arcane Lock" for 10 minutes, which means if you used it on the way in, you would have opened the two doors on your way in--only to find the front door locked again when you were trying to flee for your lives before the preservation magic over the temple was fully dispelled. And if you were spending time THEN to find the way to open the door, with all etherealness and shadowjumping used up... it would depend a lot on your ingenuity and your die rolls (noticing the switch that opens the door from the inside when the ceiling is rumbling overhead would be harder than it was when the ceiling was intact). NOT that I would have had a "lake falls, everyone dies" ending, but you would have had a bigger/different challenge before you.
Funny how you don't mention the Cleric failing her level check while trying to dispel the effect. *TEASING*
I have no recollection of the failed dispel magic under discussion.*grin*
I need to talk to my dice about the appropriate time to roll a low single-digit number (e.g. my track record of single-digit initiative rolls) and when to roll a high number (attack rolls, caster level checks). I'm sure the Vorpal d20 will listen...
I'm NOT criticizing the party. I'm noting that it's interesting what turns out to be a challenge based on what a high level party has available to it, and what resources they have that they consider expendable. I think many people consider combat to be the be-all, end-all challenge to a party, often myself included, and I'm learning that's not the case and actually ESPECIALLY for a high-level party, where combat is less of a big deal because y'all are so badass to begin with. (Honestly? I thought the mind flayer should have been much more of a challenge than it was, but y'all were making your saving throws like crazy and I forgot to give him better mobility, and he got several new orfices ripped into him with relatively little damage to the party in exchange. The mind flayer really is a "Save or Die" character--he's useless and squishy, or he kills you.)
Well, he mindblasted a party with a paladin (good Wisdom, high Charisma to make a good Will save), a ranger/wizard (one class with a good Will save, cloak +5), a halfling fighter/rogue/shadowdancer (low Wisdom, no good Will saves), and a cloistered cleric/contemplative (good Will saves, high Wisdom, cloak +4). So his strongest area attack was fighting the party's best saves (except for Axel, of course). He tried to initiate a grapple to use Jour's brain as an appetizer, but he was fighting someone who is good at resisting grapples due to his high CMD. He threw some spells that we did a good job resisting, so yeah, the illithid did kinda have a bad day. Also, the illithid had a squishy AC but great SR (I imagine, since no spells went off against him from our side) but got into a small room with two PCs that want to get into close combat and one that will happily shoot people. I imagine Jour and Axel were quite happy about that after fighting the flying dracolich!
To address the other part of this, part of the challenge our party has faced has been magical resources. Namely, we're not the iconic party. We are more versatile than the traditional fighter/cleric/rogue/wizard group, but we don't have access to the full magical power of a single-classed wizard. We can get by through other means, but the one resource we can't easily compensate for is just simple magic. I've used some of my normal spells each day for good ol' utility magics and whatnot, but I simply cannot replace a wizard. And I shouldn't be able to do so as a cleric. Clerics don't have the enormous selection of utility spells of a wizard (though we have plenty of them). So some things will remain more challenging for us, like opening doors that are magically sealed. Oh well, we can buy a scroll of knock for Kieren or a wand for future use I suppose.
And "Knock" may not have fixed all your problems anyway, depending on when you used it, unless you'd had it memorized multiple times (which would you have that prepared multiple times when prepping spells to fight a dracolich and a mind flayer?) or had a wand of it. It only suspends "Arcane Lock" for 10 minutes, which means if you used it on the way in, you would have opened the two doors on your way in--only to find the front door locked again when you were trying to flee for your lives before the preservation magic over the temple was fully dispelled. And if you were spending time THEN to find the way to open the door, with all etherealness and shadowjumping used up... it would depend a lot on your ingenuity and your die rolls (noticing the switch that opens the door from the inside when the ceiling is...
Well, I suppose we all need Indiana Jones-type moments. We had ours, now we're good for a little while (read: next adventure). We'll also need to see how we do with the Eldritch Knight joining us.
Session Journal Ten: November 7, 2009
Scrithengard Date: Fourth Marketday-Sixth Wandersday of Leesloom
Our trip back from the far northern reaches of the Empire was a somber one. Jour and Alanna have departed for the Diamond Kingdoms, taking Skruumorden back to the giants in pieces and passing word of our tale to them. I find I miss his calming influence on Axel already. The trip back to Merrywell Manor was quick, the result of phantom steeds from Scarbrow back to Three Points, a teleportation circle to Holliver, and a wind walk incantation to Merrywell.
The manor had seen some battle when the forces of the Ebon Serpent had attacked in an effort to reduce our base of support, but as we learned a force of Sheenoseki had come to their assistance. I wonder who those Sheenoseki served, but that is a question I can ask later. The gate was still under repair when we walked through it, various walls in need of repair and covered in scaffolds here and there. A mob formed around Axel and spread word of what had happened to us while passing along a message to him via the Rover Henri that someone wanted to see us in the temple of Lees. Once we sorted ourselves out, we made our way there.
Lees keeps few open temples, so I had no idea what we were in for. Inside we found a gambling den and a well-dressed man awaiting us. He introduced himself eventually as Dheza DoBesal of the house of the same name. He quickly proved himself a cagey, slippery individual as he asked as to the fate of Nathaan DoSheen and what had happened in the far north. Axel and Dheza verbally danced around one another until they were satisfied with one another's answers, our newfound ally expressing his dislike for the House of Sheen and the followers of the Defier. Dheza also admitted that he was working in the interests of his house and for pay, which mollified Kieren a bit. What amazed me was how well he took to the place at hand, sitting with us as we introduced ourselves and playing a hand of cards. The dealer dealt me a hand that I ignored other than the idle curiosity of wondering what they looked like, curiosity soon appeased as I stared at the pictures of dragons on the cards. Finally, we were satisfied with Dheza's answers and sought to deal with other business.
With a Rover clan in residence, we hoped to sell off most of the magic that we had claimed in Scarbrow. But first we sought out Yelir, the woman in charge of the land thereabouts. On the way to her office we saw the local militia drilling with a dwarf wearing a warrior's kilt from Skuldes, a rather unusual occurrence. Axel spoke with her briefly, though her unusual appearance did not phase him. Presumably he knew her. Yelir wore the robes of Gyomorite monk to my surprise. She recognized Axel of course, and she knew Kieren as a famous veteran of the rebellion that led to the formation of Haven. I almost bowed in the Gyomorite style when I saw her and gave her my name, though I kept my title to myself for a change. Kieren, Axel, and Yelir haggled and planned out the location of Kieren's tower. Kieren is showing a surprising bit of maturity in choosing to settle, although his pursuit of Kilmaral still shows his relative youth.
Session Ten cont.
With that business taken care of, we sought out Jade in the wizard's school. Unfortunately we found her after passing her shield guardian in the halls. Jade was struggling to evade a monstrous horned devil that had been released by an old summoning circle trap. Kieren and Axel raced to her aid, Axel magically closing the distance as Kieren's first volley struck holes into the enormous monster's chest. Dheza followed Axel into the fray as I tried to close Jade's wounds with my wand's magic. Jade in turn tried to blast the monster with an ice storm but the creature's innate resistance to magic warded it, I think, for it seemed unharmed. The aura of fear that I have come to associate with these creatures failed to repel any of us in the battle, so it resorted to physical combat. Axel managed to dodge most of its attacks but not all, the monster's spiked chain catching him across one shoulder. Spells flashed out from the hands of our new ally but were thwarted by its resistance, while I chanted a quick prayer to Death in the background to bolster our efforts. It roared in fury and battered us all with a fireball; Jade took the brunt of it, forcing her to retreat in search of a weapon to battle this misplaced beast. Kieren's arrows flew wide repeatedly as the devil nimbly dodged both his arrows and the worst of the blows from both Dheza and Axel, weaving around the room to reach Kieren. The narrow confines of the hallway forced me to close as well in an effort to try to kill the creature. It resisted my own incantation and in turn used one of its own to strengthen its defenses. Seeing this, I tried to counter its magic to no avail.
Blows were traded between combatants as I tried to destroy the creature. Wounds opened and then began to close, a fact that had evaded my notice in the first exchanges of the fight. It healed from injury with a fair degree of speed, perhaps a bit slower than your average troll. Despite its gift for healing its injuries, the creature was still upset at the injuries it had taken and savaged my spare frame with its next attacks, leaving me badly wounded and my blood dripping freely from multiple cuts to the bone. My next spell failed to bypass its resistance to magic, while only a few scattered strikes from my companions landed against its quick reflexes and supernaturally-toughened hide. It ravaged Kieren next, the chain slashing through his cloak and flesh with equal ease. I closed my own wounds, my spell fighting to overcome the vile magic that infused the creature and that fought to bleed me dry.
Jade returned, a scroll and a silver dagger in hand. She shouted for us to keep fighting it and to wound it one more time as she began to chant the complex incantation. Axel struck that last blow, driving his rapier into the back of the devil's knee and eliciting a scream. From its injuries it began to dissipate, and Jade spoke the final word on the scroll, ensuring that the creature's essence was forced back to the hells, never to return to Scrithengard again.
Session Ten cont., part 3
I took a few moments to heal the wounds we had been dealt and considered to myself our situation. I have the power to channel the most powerful of the magics granted by gods to men, but my skill with magic was not enough to strike a telling blow against the monster. Between its innate resistance to magic and the toughness of the creature's mind and body, it repelled the combined assault of both myself and Dheza with frightening ease. If the devil had escaped when we had been absent, it would likely have decimated the local population within minutes.
The situation had been dealt with, so we adjourned to Jade's office to begin planning our next move. Jade and Axel exchanged information and arranged for messages to be sent and to finish catching up on what we had missed during our sojourn in the north. We gave Nathaan's staff to Jade and she in turn opened up the resources of the school to us, including apprentices and laboratory space. I spent quite a few of the following days working to improve my enchanted belt and procuring healing potions of various sorts, but the others met a high elf merchant from Greengate who dealt in mithril, both unworked ore and finished product. I watched them return from their meeting smiling with childlike glee as they brandished several weapons and bucklers of the famed metal, though Kieren also forged an adamatine buckler several days later. More telling was that the merchant and Kilmaral added to Jade's map of the Hrifgard, noting that a vast underground highway ran from the northern Hrifgard to the Deep Green and on to the southern drow cities with an alternate path that bypassed the wood elf guardians of the Deep Green while still heading toward the drow of the south.
A map at hand, we now prepare to enter Sheenosek from below. Dheza and his allies in House Besal wish to maintain the chaos of the situation for a time. Jade noted that the amulet of the King Immortal was covered in contingency spells, mostly communication magics, of which one had already triggered. The news of the the lich's demise has reached one of Dheza's contacts at least, possibly others. It is possible we will ultimately decide who comes to rule Sheenosek, depending on our exact actions. We agree that the church of Skaden will grow in power in the absence of the king, who tolerated them but did not belong to the faith, and that this is unacceptable. Until we know more of what is happening in Sheenosek, we cannot make more detailed plans. One plan I will make regardless: when we find the misbegotten soul of the High Priest of Skaden, I will send him across the Shadowed Veil to Tria's Womb myself, no matter what I must do.
Session Journal Eleven: December 12, 2009
Scrithengard Date: Sixth Wandersday of Leesloom-First Marketday of Ataloom?
Preparations for the trip to Sheenosek complete, we set out for Greengate on the border of the Deep Green. Deep Green is one of two elven homelands in Scrithengard, the other the island nation of Tor Alva to the south and west of the main continent. The entrance to the Hrifgard that we wished to use was located within elven lands. As we soon learned, the entrance was also under direct elven guardianship.
A quick trip to the Haven border took us into the forest. The road into the Deep Green is not well-maintained though it is still traversable, the work of elves that have no desire to see many visitors in their realm. Enormous trees, far greater than any others I have seen, were the norm here.
We first met the native elves a few days after we departed Merrywell. A patrol blocked our path, weapons at the ready. Kieren wisely chose to speak with them, as he is the only one of us who speaks the language. The ranger's approach was cautious, no weapons ready, and overt. While I did not notice any watchers in the trees, Axel informed me that there were quite a few more elves watching us warily from concealed positions within the tree canopy.
I could not hear all of the exchange between Kieren and the older elven woman that came forth to speak with him, but Kieren declared our intent to head into the Hrifgard and journey in the dark realms below. We were also advised to be careful when using magic in certain regions beneath the surface due to the presence of areas where magic does not function properly. Given that we all bear items infused with Wanderer's shards, this is something we needed to hear.
Kieren's diplomacy won us admittance into the Hrifgard. The elder waved a wooden rod—a wand perhaps, or a portal key—that caused the shrubbery to rescind from one inconspicuous location and reveal the entrance to the Hrifgard. With our host's words still on my mind, we began the descent into the darkness.
Session Journal Eleven cont.
The Hrifgard is a place far removed from the surface world, not by distance but by experience. I have walked beneath the surface of the world in my duties, but never so deep as this. On the surface, we left forests of trees. Here, the forests are made of fungus and stone. The sun and moons light the sky of Scrithengard, but in the Hrifgard there is no light save what we bring or that provided by the patches of glowing fungus we find. I find that the darkness is almost comforting, the caverns possessed of a certain stark beauty of their own. The world beneath the feet of people such as ourselves is a quiet wonder, still deadly but pleasing to the eyes of this wanderer.
I wonder if one of the many side tunnels would lead back to the lair of the kobolds I met long ago. Nostalgia, here? Kieren would smirk and accuse me of being human if he knew my thoughts.
For an entire day we descended into the depths. I truly mean descended, for the path was steep at times while slippery at others. I also say 'day', but I have little idea as to whether we journeyed for a day, half a day, two days, or more. After the path became level we journeyed a little further, occasionally finding our way lit by phosphorescent fungi that grew in strange patterns. Kieren and I deciphered the patterns as gnomish way-markers They gave us a little light to augment that which Dheza's magic and my own provided. Tired as we were, we eventually had to camp near one of these markers. A small cavern niche nearby proved to be a suitable campground. Dheza covered the entrance with an illusion that matched the stone of the cavern perfectly, concealing the entrance of our camp beautifully. Kieren, in turn, created a magical dome that maintained us in comfort in the evening.
Some time after I had rested, prayed to Death, and meditated I heard an unexpected sound from the corridor. Off in the distance the echoes of a loud clanking came to my ear as I stood on watch. I wasted no time in waking Kieren and the others, wary of what would make so much noise in a realm that had been quiet and peaceful the day before. Kieren and Axel left to scout out this intrusion and returned with ten deep gnomes, or svirfneblin as they call themselves. To my surprise, the loud noise that I had heard was a heavily armored cart, pulled by a pair of earth elementals. Kieren and Axel had negotiated with the gnomes for information, in exchange for my services as a healer. The gnomes discussed the perils of the Hrifgard within the region with my companions while I treated wounds, expunged poison, and restored the merchants to full strength.
Session Journal Eleven, part 3
The road we travel leads into realms controlled by three separate groups, although it is used by others such as refugees from Sheenosek and the gnomes themselves. We sought the more northerly route, which leads toward a drow city. Our native guides informed us of a great battle there which had massacred the city. While the svirfneblin didn't know who the combatants were, they identified them well enough for us to realize that a three-way war between the King Immortal (or his armies), the drow, and the Ebon Serpent had broken out. The drow city is now home to a few scattered survivors, whatever scavengers have moved into the area, and likely quite a few undead, restless souls that I will need to deal with at my first opportunity. The passage to the surface that we seek is here, but may well be blocked.
To the south of the dark elven city is a realm controlled by duergar, the dark dwarves. Bands of duergar slavers operate in the region, using side tunnels off the main underground road for ambushes. Our gnomish friends had been the victim of an ambush themselves and warned us in particular about the duergar Clan Veershtok. A band of twenty or more is in the area, according to the gnomes.
Yet further south is a region controlled by dark creepers and dark stalkers. I have heard of these creatures, secretive, degenerate halflings serving even more secretive and degenerate humans in the darkness. I had no idea that they ever grew so plentiful as to hold significant portions of land of their own. But they also roam the region it seems. The dark creepers are bounty hunters hereabouts.
The svirfneblin also corroborated the story of the elves regarding the unwieldiness of magic in the Hrifgard. The gnomish explanation was that we would journey within Tria's bowels and she has occasional indigestion. I think a few of Tria's Chosen would take exception at such an irreverent tone, but that is not my concern. I think that the second explanation offered to us, that the demise of the Wanderer had caused portions the world to become damaged, is just as likely. But who knows?
Axel and Kieren have also negotiated a contract with the deep gnomes. The gnomes are headed to Greengate to trade with the elves, but Kieren has sold them the enchanted items that we had no chance to sell in Merrywell. Axel and Kieren seemed quite happy when the contract was written up and signed, as the gnomes will be delivering mithril, adamantine, and orichalcum ore to Merrywell for us, as well as alchemical items and gems. The cart that the gnomes escort is heavily reinforced in order to prevent accidents in the regions of untamed magic as well as to protect their wares, which tells me that they are carrying quite a bit of valuable merchandise—small wonder that Axel is so happy! For our part, we return to the Great Underpath. We've navigated part of the way to Sheenosek—we've twisted back until we crossed back underneath Haven—but there are still many miles to go.
Session Journal Eleven, part 4
The duergar we found lying dead in the fungus patch was a warning. Shriekers do not kill, and while we found traces of poison in the many stab wounds the dwarf had taken, the poison was a common Hrifgard poison according to Kieren's analysis, blacksmear. We should have taken note that the wounds were caused by smaller blades, not larger weapons. I think that Kieren's paranoid nature regarding the drow is well-placed but it also closed our minds to other options.
Options such as the dark creepers.
I am as guilty of linear thinking as the others. More so, for today I have had an unexpected but welcome revelation. In my travels I have never met another creature, human, elf, dwarf, gnome, halfling, or otherwise that had felt the calling that I have. I have found no mention of other such people in the histories that I've read, nor heard a word from my Mistress on the matter. I thought I was alone, and I have acted accordingly.
On this matter I have been proven wrong.
We continued for some number of hours down the Underpath. Kieren and Axel led the way, followed by Kilmaral, her grandmother, Dheza, and myself. Off in the distance we heard another unexpected sound: the sound of a horse screaming. And of course Kieren and Axel ran to investigate. The rest of us followed quickly.
A large cavern awaited us. We found a score or so dead duergar, most likely the slavers of Clan Veershtok. We also found a group of dark creepers and their dark stalker master trying to chain and restrain what seemed to be a horse. I spent little time trying to understand this fact and instead joined the battle that had begun between Kieren and Axel and the darklings. A burst of light erupted when the small creature died, blinding two of his comrades and Axel as well. Dheza teleported the rest of us into the fray. Kilmaral and her grandmother engaged a horde of the little creatures, forcing them into a side cavern while Kieren and Axel quickly felled one of those that was restraining the horse. We were all surprised to find that the creepers explode in bursts of light as they die, leaving their worldly possessions behind. As I closed with the leader, I halted in my tracks as the horse looked at me. I could see intelligence in her eyes but even more strange was the fact that she recognized me. This slowed my actions by several seconds, seconds that were nearly the creature's demise. The dark stalker flogged her into unconsciousness with a vicious strike from his whip. This act of cruelty freed the dark creepers that were trying to hold the horse down with chains from their task. Four creepers and the dark stalker faced off against us.
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Session Journal Eleven, conclusion
The two creepers who had been blinded by the death of their companion retreated away from us and covered their movements with globes of darkness. Axel attempted to stab one of them but his vision had not cleared enough to let him land a blow. Kieren rained arrows down on one dark creeper after another. Dheza and Axel engaged in melee with the other two creepers near me while I worked my way to the dark stalker. I was stabbed by one of the vile urchins as I tried to slip past and I could feel the venom on his blade but the wound was barely a scrape and not worth my consideration. As I reached the stalker I felt my anger rising to the fore as I had not felt since fighting Icerage months before. Words of a spell came to mind as I reached out and grabbed the taller man by the shoulder and let negative energy flow out of me and into him. The dark stalker staggered as his lifeforce was suppressed despite a valiant effort to fight off my spell by force of will. Axel finished the stalker with one well-placed blow before returning to the fray with the creepers. The stalker blasted us as he died, but the wounds dealt by his death throes were not serious. My attention was now on the horse herself, so I did not take notice of the actions of the creepers. I paid for my mistake as an explosion of force slammed into me from behind. I staggered forward, the very force of the blast pushing me out of the way of the bubble of pure force that had formed on the spot. Another blast pushed me a few more steps and once more I narrowly avoided encapsulation. Dheza found himself momentarily imprisoned, but a powerful spell on his part destroyed the bubble utterly. Axel and Kieren killed one creeper after another, Dheza returning to the fray with enthusiasm as he discharged spells through his blade into our diminutive tormentors. As I healed the horse's wounds the men finished off the last of our immediate attackers. A large white dragon appeared soon after, Kilmaral in an alternate form, informing us that the other creepers had been slain.
Once free of the chains holding her down, the horse introduced herself as an Epona. I know a little of these creatures, natives to another plane that can travel the planes and ride the skies. To my surprise, she addressed me in the tongue of the angels and informed me that she served Death even as I do. The epona carries souls to the appropriate plane in the afterlife, a task that I admit I envy. She had come to the material plane and been captured while disoriented from her trip and sought the drow city to bring peace to the souls she sensed there. Finally, she asked permission to journey with us for a time, permission I granted readily. I'd rather not speak for the others, but as the epona shares a burden similar to my own I think she will be of great assistance to us. I have never had the chance to speak with another of my Mistress's servants and relish the opportunity to do so.
As I sit here now, watching the duergar burn, I feel strangely relieved. I thought I was alone, the only servant of Death. I have never tried to summon or contact any of her servants, my only contact with extraplanar forces with Death Herself. In the privacy of my own thoughts I have wondered if I were truly mad, interpreting voices in my mind as the words of a god. Worse, I wondered if I were interpreting the words of Tria or another god as the words of Death. I no longer have doubts on that account. When we finish our business here in the Hrifgard, I hope she'll stay for a while. I hope to speak for a while of the sights she has seen across the planes and of her own duties to Death, perhaps learn of others that walk our path. I already think that I will miss her when she leaves. I think I'll try to convince her to stay. If nothing else, the epona will give me someone to talk to when Kieren is teasing me about my lack of appetite. And before she leaves, should she leave, I must ask for her name. 'The epona' and 'epona' are rude, impolite terms to refer to an obviously intelligent creature.
Kieren is waving at me. He thinks I can interpret his hand signals apparently. I guess it is time to go.
A fascinating campaign journal, well written and entertaining to read. I enjoy the GM's solutions to certain elements in the game world as well.
A fascinating campaign journal, well written and entertaining to read. I enjoy the GM's solutions to certain elements in the game world as well.
Wow, thanks Turin! We're lucky to have Lathiira writing all this down. I'm trying to poke some of my other players into adding their own perspectives. Some of them would probably make the story sound quite different (though no more accurate).
Speaking of players, I wanted to officially acknowledge our new player who brought in Dheza Do'Besal, a Human Fighter/Sorcerer/Eldritch Knight (distribution 3/4/10 IIRC). As noted in the narrative, Jour the Paladin sadly left (as player moved far away).
I also wanted to add a peripheral geographic note, since the players confuse this a little (though it's not essential to the story right now): there are two locations, the Deep Green and Greengate.
The Deep Green is a forest sacred to Tria; no civilized beings live there save a few scattered tribes of elves and gnomes who have given over to a fey lifestyle (as in actual fey, not the vernacular :) ) and the occasional druid/ranger warden. It's very dangerous (a whole clan of green dragons live there for one); people do not "visit" as a rule, apart from extremely dedicated pilgrims, and the occasional bounty hunter who usually ends up as dragon/elf food.
Greengate is named because it BORDERS the Deep Green (it does have a separate name, but it's a long highfalutin elf name nobody wants to pronounce), and because the elves who live in it have assigned themselves as guardians of the paths into the sacred forest. But Greengate is an actual NATION, the Deep Green is just a geographical location. People DO visit Greengate to trade with the elves.
The party headed to the Hrifgard via a road to GREENGATE, not to the Deep Green. There are no roads to the Deep Green. The Hrifgard entrance is in the northern part of Greengate.
I'm sure this comes off as more nitpicky than intended; just trying to clarify so as not to confuse the party in future (especially since you might visit either location or both at some point).
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A fascinating campaign journal, well written and entertaining to read. I enjoy the GM's solutions to certain elements in the game world as well.
Thanks for the praise, Turin. I'd begun to wonder if anyone had been reading. I do take some pride in having writing skills; too many other boards have people that barely understand punctuation and capitalization making every single post. That tends to irk me quickly. In real life, I'm not quite as depressed as Morag, so I have to listen to just the right music before the game (Blackmore's Night, Within Temptation, and a few others). The total journal stands at 56 pages on my computer and counting.
Also, what solutions are you referring to specifically?
As another note, I always write things as accurately as possible-from Morag's perspective. If she screws things up, it's because I didn't ask questions at the game or because I didn't ask to roll things that are important and useful like Knowledge (geography) checks, Knowledge (history) checks, and whatnot. Given that I'm the knowledgeable person in the party, you'd figure I'd make a few of those rolls from time to time.
We hope our eldritch knight friend will prove to be capable as a diplomat when we get into his home nation. His magic is already extremely useful and he makes a good flanking buddy for the shadowdancer. I think he's also just as slippery as the halfling. Now that I think about it, I don't think I have enough wisdom bonus to spread to the rest of the party to keep them out of trouble...
As another note, I always write things as accurately as possible-from Morag's perspective. If she screws things up, it's because I didn't ask questions at the game or because I didn't ask to roll things that are important and useful like Knowledge (geography) checks, Knowledge (history) checks, and whatnot. Given that I'm the knowledgeable person in the party, you'd figure I'd make a few of those rolls from time to time.
For common knowledge kind of things, you can always assume to have taken 10. :)
The hard part is that I don't always remember what background info I've given you that you have at hand. Please nudge me to remind me to make certain background notes during game.
For common knowledge kind of things, you can always assume to have taken 10. :)
The hard part is that I don't always remember what background info I've given you that you have at hand. Please nudge me to remind me to make certain background notes during game.
Morag's Knowledge skill modifiers:
Arcane: +18
Religion: +28
Planes: +28
Local: +14
History: +18
Geography: +18
Nature: +17
Dungeoneering, architecture/engineering, and nobility: +8 (no ranks)
So my take-10 rolls are:
Arcane, history, geography: 28
Religion, planes: 38
Local: 24
Nature: 27
Dungeoneering, architecture/engineering, nobility: 18
And to be fair, I haven't read through the player's guide recently so I'm relying on what is still in my head instead of looking things up like I should.
For common knowledge kind of things, you can always assume to have taken 10. :)
The hard part is that I don't always remember what background info I've given you that you have at hand. Please nudge me to remind me to make certain background notes during game.
Morag's Knowledge skill modifiers:
Arcane: +18
Religion: +28
Planes: +28
Local: +14
History: +18
Geography: +18
Nature: +17Dungeoneering, architecture/engineering, and nobility: +8 (no ranks)
So my take-10 rolls are:
Arcane, history, geography: 28
Religion, planes: 38
Local: 24
Nature: 27
Dungeoneering, architecture/engineering, nobility: 18And to be fair, I haven't read through the player's guide recently so I'm relying on what is still in my head instead of looking things up like I should.
When we Pathfinderized the Contemplative, did we update the Bardic Lorish sort of thing they have to the Bardic Knowledge thing that Bards have now (I am being SO precise)--in other words, do you treat all knowledge skills as class skills? I don't remember and I don't have access to your character sheet at the moment.
Otherwise all untrained knowledge checks cap at 10, IIRC.
But this is all good to know and to bear in mind. Your skills are high enough that most basic things about, say, the geography of the realm or the deities you're not going to really need to roll for.
I really need to remember to get updated versions of everyone's character sheets so I can bear things like this in mind.
Also, the post I made two posts ago sounds way more pedantic than I intended. I apologize.
When we Pathfinderized the Contemplative, did we update the Bardic Lorish sort of thing they have to the Bardic Knowledge thing that Bards have now (I am being SO precise)--in other words, do you treat all knowledge skills as class skills? I don't remember and I don't have access to your character sheet at the moment.
Yup, it was an exact translation of the Bardic Knowledge ability based off of my cleric levels, because I got it as a cloistered cleric, not as a contemplative. That means I get 1/2 my cleric levels as a bonus on Knowledge checks, which is factored into all those numbers. Just happens I never put ranks into dungeoneering, nobility, and architecture. So presuming I did the math right for the skills I'm untrained in, I still make a DC 10 check on a roll of 2. I just listed results of a 'take 10' scenario; I also don't have max ranks in more than 2 of those skills (religion and planes). Contemplatives don't get the skill points of cloistered clerics.
Otherwise all untrained knowledge checks cap at 10, IIRC.
As noted above, I factored that in, boss.
But this is all good to know and to bear in mind. Your skills are high enough that most basic things about, say, the geography of the realm or the deities you're not going to really need to roll for.I really need to remember to get updated versions of everyone's character sheets so I can bear things like this in mind.
You should have a copy of my sheet; if you don't, I'll send it whenever you like. I thought I sent one when we updated; the only change would be replace Defensive Combat Training with Leadership. Oh, and note my belt now adds +2 to Dex.
Also, the post I made two posts ago sounds way more pedantic than I intended. I apologize.
It did? I never noticed. No apology necessary.
Session Journal Twelve: February 20, 2010
Scrithengard Date: First Marketday-Third Triasday of Ataloom (approximately)
A week of travel or thereabouts brought us deeper into the Hrifgard. My newfound companion introduced herself as the Epona, "but many Primes refer to me as Rhiannon." She takes some pride in her status, I note. I have heard of ur’Epona, but I do not think she is one of those creatures—perhaps she is their progenitor? I will ask when I find the chance, as well as ask of many other things regarding the planes and our Mistress. I digress.
I felt more tranquil than I have in a long time, walking mile after mile in that dark place. It seemed as though time held no meaning for us in the Hrifgard, though I kept track of the days as best I could there in the deep places of the world. No easy task in a place with no sun and moon or stars.
There were a few skirmishes along the way with dark creepers and even a few small earth elementals but none of these were a true threat to us. Instead, the first threat we faced since our battle with the dark stalker and dark creepers was the increase in magic-dead regions. We eventually found one that seemed to extend on without limit. Kieren was sent ahead to scout as he was the only one who could do so, as Axel's ability to see in the dark was thwarted by the lack of magic.
We waited in tense silence until the tunnel ahead began to glow. Moments later the glow was joined by the smell of smoke; Kieren had lit a fire. I asked Rhiannon to go meet Kieren, as they could converse at need and the ranger could ride back to us more quickly than he could run. Rhiannon thundered off down the path and returned a minute later with Kieren. Trailing behind was a seething, writhing mass that approached us with what seemed to be malevolent intent. The mass revealed itself to be a swarm of spiders to my surprise. Also to my surprise, the swarm did not move past the borders of the magic-dead region. The vermin extended nearly as far as we could see in the dim light.
We discussed multiple plans for repelling the creatures before hitting on one that we thought might work. Kieren suggested that we shape a boulder into a large roller and use that to crush the swarm. Axel added the idea of dousing this stone in oil and igniting it as we pushed it ahead of ourselves, scorching the arachnids to death and clearing a path. They approached Kilmaral's grandmother with their plan and she agreed to help, shaping a bit of stone to their needs. When all was in readiness, Kieren warned the swarm of our intent before warding himself against flame and launching our column of burning stone into the creatures. Axel ignited the column himself and followed along, periodically dousing the roller with oil to maintain the flames. The rest of us trailed behind, the stench of burned arachnid enough to make Dheza retch. We ran through the corridor, Kieren and Axel forcing a path. When we finally reached an area where magic worked again, we caught our breath and let Dheza's stomach settle before continuing onward. While there were still more places where magic did not function, none of them measured nearly as large as this one.
Session Journal Twelve cont.
Our next challenge did not lie where magic failed but rather where magic ran wild. The first indication that we reached such a place was the flickering of our light spells. The second manifestation of note was far more odious. Axel drew his blade, crafted with a Wanderer's shard. The rapier suspended itself in the air and began to recite a long tale of its origin and history even as it glowed brightly. We all stopped, confused or entranced, though my attention faded when the blade reached the point in the tale where Axel gained ownership. Kieren wisely noted that the noise the blade was making could attract trouble. As Axel reached out and reclaimed his weapon, Kieren's prophecy came true.
Two huge creatures emerged from the very stone around us. Both stood easily ten feet tall and then some, made of solid earth and stone. Most earth elementals form humanoid shapes, but these creatures were enormous spider-like monstrosities. One approached from the corridor before us, the other from the stone beside us.
Kilmaral wove a defensive magic over her grandmother, who in turn merged with the earth beneath her feet. Axel engaged the creature in the corridor before us and Dheza fired a ray at the creature, causing a small portion of its form to vanish. Kieren was snatched up in the mandibles of the other monster and was forced to teleport himself away. I knew these were some form of elemental creature of a type unknown even to me, so I moved into the middle of the fray. I too was snatched up in the mandibles of the elemental, the speed of its strike incredible for a creature as large as a giant. Hoisted into the air, I maintained my focus and spoke a word, one of the words of creation. I felt the magic twist a bit, a portion of my power dispersed, but the incantation still worked.
My opponent vanished, forced back to whatever reality it calls home. I hit the ground a second later, tumbling to the floor awkwardly. As I rose and checked my bruises, Axel rammed his blade home in the other creature. Dheza fired another ray, this time blasting away much of the creature's form into seeping sand. And Kieren finished the creature with a well-placed shot, our foe collapsing to a pile of dust. He immediately searched the dust as we saw glints of light in the monster's remains and found several gems, though he reluctantly left the dust and sand behind after realizing that there was diamond dust therein, as we had no good means to sift it out. Once we took stock of ourselves and injuries were healed, we continued onward.
The next day we found a fork in the path that was unmarked on our map. Rhiannon could feel the desecration, I think, for she told us which fork led to the city. The other fork was marked with runes in the language of the drow that Kieren translated to dire warnings. Kilmaral and her grandmother opted to investigate that path and meet with us later. Our ranger thoughtfully sent his animated stick companion along to keep watch for them.
Session Journal Twelve, part 3
We came to the entryway of the fallen city not long after. Rhiannon was most disturbed as came to the cavern entrance but could not articulate why she felt so to me. The remnants of a vast stone bridge projected only a few feet into the cavern, the far end faintly visible due to illumination from phosphorescent fungi a quarter mile distant. The cavern soared high enough that no one could see the roof, while the cavern was more than a mile across. Kieren cast a spell to scry the cavern floor and reported it was easily five-hundred feet below us. Of greater concern was his report of another region of nil-magic five-hundred or so feet distant. The greatest problem of all were the masses of skeletons and carcasses on the cavern floor that writhed in a ceaseless dance of life profaned. I made the mistake of focusing my vision here, looking to see the flow of positive and negative energies. The sheer quantity of necromantic energy blinded me momentarily.
Axel noticed something above us and climbed the wall to investigate alongside Kieren, who chanted a spell for flight to do so. When Kieren and Axel rose, we saw Axel suddenly go limp and fall. Kieren caught him and brought him down before rising again. Dheza joined Kieren with a spell of his own, as Axel was in some form of stupor. Kieren returned not long after and reported that two creatures were above us, resembling rays with fifteen-foot wingspans and as black as night. I believe they are shadowcloaks—I cannot recall the name with accuracy just now and lore regarding the servants of the god of secrets is vague or scarce or both. They are servants of Lees and decided to test us, as is the way of Lees. Whatever Kieren did—he mentioned a vision of a nightmarish spider-creature that faded away when he confronted it—the shadowlords decided he had passed their “test” and refrained from disturbing us. Axel recovered soon after and we set ourselves to bypassing the horde below. I confess that the neverending danse macabre below us was so horrific as to be entrancing to me, so details of the aerial confrontation must await clarity from one of the men.
Our eventual solution was simple yet profound. After we failed to cross the chasm with dimension door magic that my cloak and Dheza provided, Axel climbed along the chasm to the edge of the nil-magic zone. Kieren cleverly gave us the answer to the question of its size by firing an arrow through it and determining how long the arrow needed to pass through. Knowing the barrier to be some three-hundred feet deep, Axel secured a series of ropes and pitons through the barrier. Dheza created a stone platform just outside, flying up to establish the first platform before crossing over by hand in Axel's wake and creating a second on the other side. Kieren crafted an elaborate block and tackle to help Rhiannon across and then sent me over. I haven't climbed anything as steep as that cavern wall in my life, and the memory of that will stay with me for a long while. Rhiannon joined us soon after, and finally Kieren. Axel muttered disappointedly for some time afterwards that he hadn't gotten the opportunity to swing Rhiannon across the chasm like a small boy swinging across a river. Her comments remain unknown, and this is for the best.
Session Journal Twelve, part 4
We guided Kilmaral and company across not long after and entered the actual city together. The city occupied an even larger cavern but was still lit by glowing fungi and a few flickering sources of magical lighting. An underground lake fed by a waterfall dominated one corner of the cavern. No buildings remained intact but one region in the center of the city was particularly devastated. Kieren's spyglass, already useful in reconnoitering the entryway, spotted a band of yellow musk creeper zombies and their namesake plants at lakeside. Kilmaral deployed with her grandmother and Kieren's companion to deal with those problems as we descended into the city.
Roaming bands of drow zombies proved to be little deterrent to us, but we observed that they had been created from the regular populace, not just soldiers. Kieren became very upset at this revelation, but we continued toward the center of the devastation. Our first real problem was the band of undead that we soon met in the middle of the city.
A half-dozen creatures as tall as ogres intercepted us in the street. Each was hideous, ribs bare for all to see, claws and fangs covered in filth and gore. Within the chest of each creature could be seen a glowing face that flickered in and out of sight. I believe these creatures to be devourers, the unliving remains of unrepentant murderers.
The first several attacks of the devourers proved to be rays that sapped the strength of my companions, while spells were cast by the other three with no visible effects. Axel stabbed the first creature as Dheza retaliated with a ray of his own. Kieren stopped and drank one of the potions we'd purchased to restore his lost strength. I considered our opponents for a moment and asked Rhiannon to stay back as I began a lengthy incantation. I felt a spell briefly touch my mind but ignored it.
The second wave of attacks were far more intense than the first. I could feel the air cool even as it boiled with necromantic energy. Axel's lifeforce dwindled rapidly and I glimpsed his very soul beneath his skin struggling against the devourers' attempts to wrest it away but he survived. More of those attacks struck Kieren and Dheza before a spell muddled Dheza's mind. I finished my spell and paused a moment for breath as it took effect, curious to see what I had wrought.
Air swirled into existence where it had already been, the dust kicking up in eddies. In the dim light a creature fully as large as the spiderlike elementals we'd fought appeared. It had no truly distinct form to my eye, a bundle of vapor and mist and tendrils. I could feel its displeasure as it realized it had been summoned but ordered into the fray as I quickly chanted a new spell.
Session Journal Twelve, part 5
I drew positive energy into the mortal world in quantities I have never handled before and infused it into the forms of the six devourers and Axel as well. Axel recovered from his near-deathly wounds as if he had never been hurt. But the undead abominations writhed as their forms were the battleground between positive and negative energies. Four were blown apart by those battles. Glowing motes of light rose from their forms into the air, the captive souls freed of their unnatural prisons. In turn, my elemental slammed two tendrils into the remaining devourers, destroying one in a burst of rotting flesh. Rhiannon had been eager to enter the fray but she rode gracefully into the sky toward the free souls. She called down that she would return as she gathered the souls and sent them to their rewards. The last devourer soon fell as arrows blasted holes into its form. That last soul faded away in Rhiannon's wake, pulled into the afterlife.
I healed our wounds and restored Dheza from his muddled state as Kieren concentrated on his familiar and reported that all was well in the battle with the yellow musk creepers. Once I had sent my elemental off to wreak havoc with the zombies in the area, we moved into the central region of devastation.
Another battle had already begun here. Four more devourers were engaged with the spirits of several drow on the site of a shrine to Atanna. We paused and considered our options briefly before agreeing to aid the beleaguered spirits. We cast several spells to ready ourselves for battle, including a ward against death magics on Axel, and then we attacked.
These devourers stood little chance against our combined forces. Dheza burned one with rays of fire as another was dissolved by a stream of acid. I warded us in holy armor as they tried to retaliate and claim Axel's soul but this time the attack was readily diminished. Dheza called another elemental onto the battlefield to run amok and Kieren sniped one repeatedly. In seconds the battle was over and I strode up the steps of the shrine.
Session Journal Twelve, conclusion
The ghost of a drow priestess met me and angrily claimed that they would not be banished from that place in accented tradespeak. I knew this, knowing that the only sure way to deal with a ghost was to lay it to rest by giving it peace. I replied that we had not come to destroy them, that Death had called me there. This brought her up short and she considered my words. Kieren entered the verbal fray and we began to converse.
As I had guessed, these were fallen Chosen and servants of Atanna, goddess of conquest and domination. They were not the most reasonable of people, but my contact with other drow told me that they were behaving more or less normally. The priestess insisted that the city be rebuilt and survivors found even after we told her there were no survivors to be found anywhere. A quick suggestion to Dheza told us that two of the Houses that might have been involved, House Khan and House Anda, might well have taken slaves. We tentatively agreed to find those slaves and return them to the city to rebuild. I hope we can honor that commitment for the sake of these poor souls. The ghost of a drow male with far more eyes than normal for a humanoid also told us that two more groups of devourers wandered the city, though he described them as “minions of Skaden” while pointing at the remains of the fallen undead we had helped destroy.
I now sit in the ruins of a small building where we were peremptorily directed to stay to rest. We have been busy these last few days, but we have accomplished quite a bit. I hope that we can soon return to the surface, however. Despite the stark beauty of the Hrifgard, the city has an air to it that is almost stifling. I have grown used to seeing the world through lens colored by positive and negative energies, so my inability to rely on that gift leaves me feeling as if I were missing a limb. Kieren would also be amused to hear that I also miss the sun, or, more accurately, the sky. I hope we can redeem the Chosen we met here as well, because spirits of such power are unlikely to be sent into the afterlife in any other way. What I begin to wonder is whether Kieren or I will prove to be the greater problem when we return to the surface. We both have reason to dislike Sheenosek, him for the genocide of the city and me for my own enslavement and death. Will our anger be too much to hold back? And if so, what will we do and who will suffer for it?
We ran a longer session than normal this time, starting around 10:30, breaking for late lunch, then restarting 3-ish I believe before finishing up after 6. Sorry about the wall of text, but we had a lot of combat (though we finished fights quickly, in 2-3 rounds each). I also abbreviated the long conversation about how to cross through the dead magic zone and the second long conversation about crossing the chasm into the city. Also, Morag wasn't really involved in the "conversation" with the shadowcloaks, as she didn't notice them (her Perception roll wasn't high enough) and never flew up to join the others.
I thought I had posted some lovely campaign notes yesterday, and apparently the Post-Monster ate them. Let's try again!
Campaign Notes: The Hrifgard
The Cataclysm was brought about by a great conflict between mortal mages and the Elemental Gods (now dead, known as "the Fallen"). Many involved with the war--some believe it was those responsible for killing the Fallen, some believe it was anyone who fought during the God-War on either side--were drawn into great rifts into the earth. The newly awakened Mother-Goddess Tria swallowed them into the belly of the world, cursing them and twisting them into new forms with blackened flesh. They were never to be welcome to the surface again.
Tria's curse is subtle. There is nothing directly stopping a Hrifgarder from leaving the underdark to walk on the surface. But when they get to the surface, they feel constantly uncomfortable and inherently unwelcome. The soil scratches at their feet, their skin chafes at the feel of the wind, animals and other creatures stare at them or flee from them as if they were creatures from another world. They cringe from the light of the sun, and while part of that may simply be being used to living in the dark, they can never fully overcome this discomfort. (In other words, mechanically, no underdark creature can "buy off" their light sensitivity... at least not without a significantly legendary act of atonement.) Undoubtedly this discomfort is part of why most of Kilmaral's followers eventually fell in their quest to seek and destroy Kepeskrioz.
The mortal legions who rose against the gods believed they were righteous--but they were also greedy, ambitious, and very talented with magic. Most of their descendants retain these traits. They are still sentient beings, however, and like all sentient beings run the gamut of interests, ethics, and morals. The harsh nature of existence in the Underdark make things like compassion a very rare luxury, however. Many worship Tria, often in a penitent way--although many others consider penance to an often distant goddess is pointless.
(In other words: I don't believe in "Always chaotic evil"--any more than I do in "always Lawful Good" or whatever--with the exception of creatures that are literally the personification of evil, like demons. Not every Hrifgarder is evil--I would say many are neutral, trying to survive without making waves one way or the other--but very, very few are good, if any.)
The Drow in particular consider themselves the True Elves of Scrithengard, considering the Tor Alvan elves to be cowardly traitors who refused to take action against the tyrannical Elemental Gods. They're not sure what to make of the Greengaters, who are descended from the Tor Alvans but who obviously separated themselves from that group and took a vested interest in protecting the world. The Drow are not nice, but as many of them worship Atanna, the goddess of absolute authority and conquest, they often work by their own code of honor, however twisted it may be.
Session Journal Thirteen: March 13, 2010
Scrithengard Date: Third Triasday of Ataloom—Fourth Journsday of Ataloom
Over the course of a week we decimated the undead that remained in the city proper. We battled the two surviving groups of devourers over the course of two days, luring one group to us in an ambush while facing the last group head-on. Kilmaral and her grandmother returned to us, as did Rhiannon. Our drow allies reported that an attempt to summon help by the drow had been made in the cavern they'd explored. This effort had fortunately failed, for the drow had tried to get demonic assistance. We then burned every zombie we found in the city over several days.
Kieren's emotions are raw these days. We gave Kilmaral a minor ring of spell storing that we found in the city's ruins, and Kieren gave her a necklace made from orichalcum by his own hands. She in turn accepted this gift with a great deal of formality. While I do not understand the elven language nor the common language of Hrifgard, I have been in enough villages to realize that Kilmaral took Kieren's gift seriously. They may now be considered betrothed, though without exact knowledge of the language and culture I cannot be certain. Kilmaral's grandmother spent these days chanting prayers to Tria, prayers older in form than any I have ever heard—and I have learned quite a few. In curiosity I approached this aloof older woman and asked her to teach me of the old ways she still preserved. She agreed to do so, if we could present her with a symbol that the surface world was in conflict. I believe she wants something physical but symbolic in nature, though why I don’t know. Given her feelings, I can certainly relate to her. I may miss her a bit as we continue on the surface. I only hope she and Kilmaral can do something about the monstrous spiders that remain in the cavern before Axel and Dheza get themselves killed in their curiosity. I may have to warn them that I will not revive them if they die to spider bites from spiders larger than houses....
Session Journal 13 cont.
Kilmaral and her grandmother remained behind to seek out survivors, pacify the city, and prepare for our eventual return. I pledged to help watch over Kieren for Kilmaral; I think she was amused. Axel certainly was. We journeyed onward, reaching a fork in the path that led into Sheenosek within a long march of the city. Dheza informed us that one path led out between cities and the other led to Dorshec, his home city. Of course there was the possibility of meeting guards from his house as we exited the Hrifgard and entered the sewers of Dorshec, but we decided that getting information in the city was the better option.
A brief conference amongst us all followed. We opted to prepare our story in advance in case we needed to deal with any guards in a diplomatic manner. Kieren took some clay and made a pigment for his skin to make himself lighter in pallor in order to pass as an elven mercenary. Axel asked for my assistance and for that of Kieren, for halflings are rare in Sheenosek. Kieren made a brand and Axel let the ranger brand him on the arm. I was quietly impressed with Axel's resistance to pain and his overall attitude in proposing this plan. A few herbs and fungi were useful in making a poultice to age the scar to an appropriate appearance and Axel became Dheza's servant. No alterations in my appearance were necessary, merely an identity. Kieren suggested I serve as Dheza's courtesan, but Axel saved Kieren from my anger by suggesting that I instead function as a translator. While Kieren meant well, his ideas are somewhat colored by his desires, I think.
There were thankfully no more nil-magic regions along the path; Kieren's ongoing teasing about my lack of appetite grew worse every time my ring of sustenance failed and my stomach grumbled. Instead of those regions, we found our way into a corridor full of magical traps. The first trap was a burst of light brighter than the sun. This spell would prove particularly effective against undead and many Hrifgarders, but it was not that potent against us. Axel began searching for traps at this point, but the trapsmiths were experts in their chosen profession. He missed the next trap, a spell that drained water from our very bodies. I pulled positive energy into my body and out into our ranks once and then a second time before the entire corridor was filled with living flame as a group of gigantic elementals attacked us.
Session Journal 13, conclusion
Kieren fenced several elementals off with a wall of ice as Dheza warded himself with a fire shield and Axel drew the attention of one of the creatures. Several melted through the wall as the others attacked Dheza and Axel. By the time they had penetrated the wall I was ready. Once again I spoke words of creation. Four of the creatures vanished, forced to their own realm. I noticed that Dheza shook his head as I spoke; I wonder if my spell affected him and hope not. Rhiannon moved up to help distract the elementals as they slammed home attacks on Axel and Dheza. One turned toward me, perhaps angered that I had banished its allies. Two huge tendrils slammed down into me, narrowly missing Rhiannon. I can only liken them to the onslaught of a flame strike as they rushed down and slammed home. My clothing caught fire as the intense heat nearly pushed me off of Rhiannon altogether. Kieren's arrows began to take a toll, but Dheza's best weapon proved to be his spell. Every time a monster struck him it reeled away, pure ice slowly extinguishing the enemies' flames. We battled back and forth for a time, Kieren felling the first elemental after sending a dozen arrows home. I chanted a prayer amidst roaring flames and felt the fire no more, my clothing burned but intact as I granted myself resistance to fire. Axel was forced to retreat and drink a potion as I pulled back and healed myself as well. It took us time, but we eventually beat the other elementals down, sending them back to their fiery plane. I used my magic to heal Dheza's wounds and Axel's as well before Axel began searching out traps once more. He found one that I dispelled immediately, but the next trap proved resistant to both my spells and Dheza's magic. Kieren altered the stone on which the runes stood and resisted the enchantment, damaging the trap itself. Dheza disintegrated the wall we met and we found ourselves in the sewers.
The sewers were a short trip, as we bypassed a magical alarm and let a band of primordial oozes slither away unchallenged. The intense smells of the sewers were to be expected, but in a nation as magical as Sheenosek we found them to be augmented by alchemical waste. Dheza, Axel, and I were largely unaffected by the smells but Kieren retched violently for a time. I felt sympathy for him, I admit; I remembered the first funeral pyre I ever lit when I saw his reaction. Kie Kieren spied out magically an exit for us and we climbed out of the sewer into the tanner's district of Dorshec, trade city of Sheenosek. Rhiannon promised to meet up with me later, opting to preserve her dignity and vanish to another plane.
Dheza took us to a local flophouse owned and run by Saren, an old acquaintance of our eldritch knight. We took the time to clean up, cleaning our clothing and our bodies. Kieren thoughtfully erected one of his magical huts for my privacy, permitting me a few moments to myself as I cleaned weeks of filth from my person. I gave my dress to Dheza for magical cleaning while I soaked away the smell of smoke from my hair, putrefied flesh from my skin, and fungus from everywhere. Once we were ready, we made our way to House Besal's mansion. I believe we are to meet up with Dheza’s uncle Aalimar at the first opportunity.
Rhiannon rejoined me later and together we purchased a military saddle, a bridle, saddlebags, and blankets for our use. Axel has begun teaching me to ride and has proven an excellent teacher. Luckily, Rhiannon is willing to learn and riding seems very natural to me now, though I have a long way to go before attaining Axel's level of skill.
Kieren's temper is under control for now, but his desire for vengeance worries me. He may well destroy this entire nation as revenge for what was done to the drow below. While I understand his desire for vengeance and I want to find the slaves that House Anda claimed, Kieren may well try to burn Sheenosek to the ground and kill many innocents in the process. I have tried to appeal to his better nature but I lack the empathy of Jour. I may not have persuaded Kieren to rein in his anger, but for his own sake I have to keep trying. He is so young yet and I would not have him walk down a dark path that extinguishes the light of his soul if I can help it.
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The following is from the perspective of our resident ranger/wizard/arcane archer and was written by that player.
On the fall of the Drow City
The young girl’s corpse was a total mess. Kierin looked down on her small shattered form with utter disgust. Her head was attached to her shoulders by only a scrap of gristle and some pale grey flesh. The reason for this was that Kierin only minutes earlier had cleaved through her neck with his sword.
“There is no gentle way to kill a zombie,” Kierin mused to himself.
He couldn’t look at her half-withered and rotted form any more, he had seen so many dead drow over the last 3 days that the sheer weight of all of the death was almost more then he could bear. Kieirn grabbed a small swath of muck-ridden cloth he had found in one of the buildings and covered her up. It was the most he could do. Kierin and his companions had days ago given up on burying all the dead. How do 6 people bury a whole city? The best they could do was organize waves of mass funeral pyres and consecrate the bodies hoping that the spirits of the dead might find some kind of peace.
“Peace”, Kierin spat out from behind grinding teeth.
He had been alive for 117 years, seen two wars and dozens of villages wiped out by everything from plague to starvation to simple human cruelty. But for some reason this massive act of hate and revile was more then he could take in. Kierin walked away from the girl’s unmoving corpse, her feet still sticking out from beneath the ill-fitting funeral cloth and tried to take a breath.
“What the hell am I supposed to do,” he whispered. The companions he was traveling with had agreed to stop here and help burn the dead before heading to their final destination in Sheenosek. When they got there, it was agreed that they would make the necromancers of the church of Skaden pay for this affront. Make them pay. Kierin let this thought smolder and hang about his head for several minutes.
Out of nowhere Axel appeared right beside him. “I know you’re not okay, but are you okay?” the small man asked quietly. Kierin was too exhausted to even be properly startled by the shadowdancer’s appearance.
“No, I am not okay,” Kierin said heavily. “I want to kill every godless whore-son that participated in this and then burn their entire country down to the firmament,” Kieren said, fixing his dark eyes on Axel.
“Okay, somewhat psychotic, but understandable.” Axel replied with a bit of a nervous smirk. “How about we start with the church of Skaden, and then see where we are at with the whole burning the world thing?”
Kierin looked at Axel and realized he was trying to help. Kierin starred out across the ruined dark city. It was a literal corpse itself, burned and hacked apart. “Axel, I was raised by barbarians for more then 25 years of my life,” Kierin replied. “I have seen plenty of men die in combat. That was part of our lifestyle.” Kierin breathed slowly. “But, the wanton destruction of women and children like this, we had a word for it: reaving” Kierin paused to collect his thoughts before starting again.
“There is only one punishment for reaving and that is public execution for all those involved by the closest family members left.” Kierin said finally, focusing on Axel’s eyes. “I am the closest thing these people have to surviving clan. I will make sure they get their due.”
Axel let that hang for a moment. “Alright, since it sounds like we have a lot of killing to look forward to, perhaps we should wrap up here and be on our way.” With that Axel faded back into the shadows, no doubt to inform the others of Kierin’s mood.
Kierin looked one more time across the unnatural stillness and gripped his sword pommel anxiously. “Blood for all who died here,” he swore in his mother’s old tongue. Kierin marched back towards the rising fire of fresh corpses on the newest funeral pyre and was silent.
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Another short story from our resident arcane archer:
The Debt to be Repaid
Kierin sat quietly working the mortar and pestle with an even, steady pace. He had sat in the same place by the fire for hours now, chanting softly and grinding away at a pile of rough black sooty material next to him, turning it in to a fine back powder and mixing it with a dark inky fluid . “You who have died, you who have been robbed of life, you will be avenged, you will have your debt repaid, En atha dan ranned, you will have your debt repaid.” Kierin chanted again.
Morag watched the whole scene silently from the other side of the small fire. The rest of the party had gone out into the city to gather info for their upcoming strike against the church of Skaden and its supporters. Kierin had elected to stay behind and Morag had done so as well to prepare her own magic, much of which had been exhausted making it into the city. She could not help but be concerned. Kierin was…different. He was normally all about treasure and carousing around, but after the destruction of the drow city, he had become much more serious, sullen and possibly unstable. She understood all too well what depths grief and upset could drive one to.
Morag gathered herself up and walked over next to Kierin. “Mind if I sit closer?” Morag inquired. “I was wondering, what spell you were preparing?”
“You have to be the worst liar in this world or the next”, Kierin replied. “You know very well this is no spell.”
“Then what is it?” Morag asked, her head half-cocked.
Kierin sighed slowly and put the ingredients down. “It is a very old funerary custom of my mother’s people.” Kierin said slowly with a faraway look. “When the dead pass in a dishonorable way, they would make war paint from the blood and the ash of the dead and “wear” the dead into battle so that they could partake in their own vengeance.” Kierin spoke slowly. “In some cases it is even believed that the wrath of the dead is channeled through the paint and takes possession of the wearer, driving them into frenzy.” Kierin finished speaking and picked back up the mortar. “It isn’t done much anymore, but my mother taught me all the old ways, and somehow this seems appropriate.” Kierin concluded as he started grinding again.
Morag looked at the gristly ritual, but couldn’t help noticing the slow and respectful way in which Kierin handled the remains. Morag had seen many rituals and death rites in her life and knew better than to interfere in another’s way of grieving. She also knew in her heart that like it or not, vengeance also had it place. She couldn’t help but be concerned though; to her way of thinking, Kierin had blinders on now. He was a travelling companion, even a friend, and they depended on him for their survival and he was now unfocused and lost. There was little to be done though, the die had been cast and they would confront the church soon. Perhaps Kierin and Morag would both get their debts settled. While she waited and stared at the smoking fire, Morag could not help but be a little mesmerized by the drone of Kierin’s chanting.
“En atha dan ranned, you will have your debt repaid….”
Session Journal Fourteen: April 10, 2010
Scrithengard Date: Fourth Journsday of Ataloom—Fourth Wandersday of Ataloom
Historians would be the first to agree that much can happen in the space of a single day. The events of the past two days may well have repercussions felt for centuries to come, though the actors consist of a few adventurers in a foreign land.
Once we were presentable, Dheza led us to the House Besal manor. He spoke briefly with Aalimar, another member of his house, and we were given quarters there for the duration. Aalimar mentioned that there was some bit of trouble between Houses Besal and Veras, trouble that Dheza volunteered to take care of. House Veras is a house of tinkerers, smiths, and academics, known for learning magic as wizards. The other Houses rely on sorcery as their primary source of arcane magic. We had accumulated a few items in our sojourn in the Hrifgard, so we approached with the intent to make amends through business dealings. I have come to the conclusion that Dheza's interest in business is not unique to him but rather normal for his House.
We entered the manor of House Veras through the main doors and soon came to meet Master Kheer. Master Kheer is a man who has past his physical prime but not yet slid into old age. His ale-belly may be the result of muscles gone soft through the years, which would make him truly powerful in his prime. His steel-grey whiskers were likely black at one time, but when we met him the black I saw was more likely the result of his work in the shops of the house. He greeted us in a crafter's apron and House regalia and knew Dheza well, if his familiarity was any indication. We sold to House Veras a variety of items in order to lighten our load for the days to come. Our first priority was to protect Axel from mental magics, as more and more often our foes are striking at this weakness in my halfling friend. We purchased for him a cloak to protect his mind and body from attacks that armor cannot thwart. Kieren and Axel purchased bolts for their hand crossbows, and I purchased a headband to increase my willpower. All of these were to be delivered later to House Besal.
We departed from the grounds of House Veras to House Sheen's enclave. I admit that I did so with a degree of reluctance as well as anticipation and ill-temper. The night previous I had tried to remove the magical tattoo on my left thigh. My efforts failed completely despite two separate tries to disable the magical alarm and the symbol of slavery that Durran had left there long ago. I paid little heed to Dheza's decision to enter the enclave through the servants' entrance, nor did I put much stock in his efforts to explain that his contact in the enclave, Aran Do Sheen, was a truly good man. Given my acquaintances with members of House Sheen to date, I think my feelings are justified. I did note that Dheza was worried that Aran may have been discovered within the spy as a traitor, if only because the prospect of battle with House Sheen's minions was appealing.
Session Journal Fourteen continued
We were led to an antechamber by a servant and left to wait. Minutes later an old half-orc entered the room, dressed plainly but wearing the House insignia. I only had time to note that his face was badly scarred with a line that pulled up his lips on the right side and ran up to his ear before trouble started. The symbol of slavery triggered at his approach, sending waves of agony coursing through me. My scream immediately drew attention and my comrades drew weapons on the half-orc. In turn, the half-orc began to babble in the orcish language and drew something from beneath his shirt. I spied a ring on a thong just before the pain subsided and the half-orc's babbling became unintelligible. The ring held my attention in ways that even the symbol could not. I recognized it, as I have recognized so little these past years. Given that I had been magically afflicted for several moments, my anger was also understandable. I approached the half-orc and demanded his name. He cowered before me and continued to babble in Orcish to my frustration. Kieren tried to translate for me, but the words were fairly garbled. What he made out were prayers for his soul and more importantly the fact that this half-orc knew I was the Gatherer of Souls. The half-orc offered up the ring to me and curled up into a ball.
Our host entered the room at this time as I was torn with frustration and anger. Aran was a young man with features reminiscent of Durran, showing his kinship through ties of blood. Aran was concerned that his man, the half-orc he identified as Krieg, was down on the floor babbling. Apparently he understood more of Krieg's words than we, for Aran turned to me and demanded to know if I served Narra. The name meant nothing to me, so I answered his question with a question of my own.
“Who is Narra?”
Aran met my gaze intently, neither of us happy, but eventually his ire subsided. He adjourned our meeting to another room deeper within the mansion for the sake of privacy and we finally got to business. I was surprised that Aran helped Krieg to his feet and assisted the old half-orc in climbing the stairs and walking to our new meeting room.
Introductions began, as Dheza introduced us to Aran do Sheen formally. Our compatriot from House Besal then introduced us to Aran as the people who had destroyed the King Immortal. Aran knew who Kieren was based on stories of the wars in Haven. From Krieg's rambling and Dheza's introduction Aran knew who I was. Apparently the Rovers spoke true when they told me that I was considered an evil spirit that carried away the souls of small children and others that misbehaved. In my anger I doubt I mollified him much, but I tried to assure him that I wasn't in Sheenosek for him or Krieg. Aran asked for the amulet the King Immortal wore as evidence, which we presented from Kieren's bag of holding. Aran triggered one of the various contingency magics on the amulet before returning it to us, satisfied with our claims. He then got down to business with us, beginning with an explanation of what had been happening within Sheenosek.
Session Journal Fourteen, part 3
The simulacrum of the King Immortal was failing. When that became publicly known, each of the various Houses are likely to present one of their own as a potential heir to the throne. Aran isn't sure about this, as it's a process unused in two-and-a-half centuries. Houses Veras, Anda, Khan, and Deshaanolara were likely to present candidates; House Besal would not. House Sheen was split into two factions. Andarras, Lord of the House, was loyal to the King Immortal and a traditionalist and may not put forth a candidate. Narra, who is Aran's cousin, led the other faction and would certainly do so. Narra had ties to the church of Skaden, just as her brother Durran had, though her identity as a Chosen isn't certain; her ties may be political only. The Skadenites also have strong ties to House Anda. If Anda comes to rule the nation, they will press into Greengate for the resources there. Aran himself and several others of the house want to get out of politics and return to their ancestral lands. Aran is willing to become a citizen of Haven as well as assist us in any way within his means for the chance to settle on his ancestral lands, which lie near Merrywell. Aran also didn't know what House Khan would do if they led the nation, while he expects Deshaanolara to open the borders for trade, as they are the power that runs the merchants' guilds.
Based on this information, we agreed that the best chance for the nation would be to remove the church of Skaden from the political scene. Skaden's followers were unbalancing the situation while hedging their bets and no one wanted the state to owe the church anything. Kieren asked about the slaves we sought after and learned that the majority were likely now in Garuk, far to the southwest of Dorshec in the hands of House Khan. The best of the slaves are likely now in Skadas Shee. House Deshaanolara is based in Orec, far to the southeast, so our ability to treat with them is limited. Skadas Shee itself is only a few days away, the only road to the capital leading through Dorshec. House Anda maintains a manor in the capital where we hope to find Viktor Do Anda, the man the King Immortal put in charge of pacifying the drow city. Aran was surprised when we revealed that no drow remained alive in the city, as he'd know that orders had been given to keep a possible retaliatory strike from happening. Aran then asked us how we made it into the city. When he learned we'd arrived through the sewers he grew quite alarmed, as any disturbance of the passage might cause problems when the guards learned of it. Fears of drow reprisal would send Dorshec into an uproar, something none of us needed. Kieren was worried that a strike force would be assembled to strike at the drow city, as Kilmaral was still there. Dheza volunteered to go and reseal the passage and Axel went along with him for company.
Session Journal Fourteen, part 4
I asked Kieren to translate a request into orcish for me, as the scarring Krieg bore made communication difficult. I asked permission to heal Krieg and further assured him that I was not there to claim his soul. With his acquiescence I healed the scar tissue with the magic at my command, forcing some of the damaged facial muscles to relax a bit. Kieren proceeded to alternate between cursing and drinking for a little while, leaving me with Aran and Krieg. Aran believes me to be a Chosen of Tria, I think, something I didn't care to correct at the time. The scion of Sheen explained upon examination of the symbol that what triggered the symbol was some object or another that was good for one use only. He also didn't think the ring was the object for that spell, though he examined the ring almost as closely as my thigh for a time. Aran explained to me that Krieg had served him for years and the House in general but had at one time been a clerk assigned to deal with slaves. Something had happened that had traumatized him in the intervening years, leaving mental scars as well as the damage to his face and tongue. Kieren helped translate some of what Krieg said, for while Krieg speaks the common tongue, his orcish was somewhat clearer and my healing couldn't completely undo the old wounds. Krieg had been given the ring by slave #56 to give to me specifically as a final bequest. Inscribed within the band were the words “For all the days of eternity, never a dark night”. Those words remind me now of much that I have forgotten, though the irony isn’t lost on me either.
The half-orc began to recite a manifest to me, picking it apart in his mind from memory, and finally came up with a few lines. 'Slave 56—sent to the servitor pits', he said. The pits happen to be the worst place of all for slaves, Aran added. Krieg began to make writing motions that I interpreted as a desire to start writing things down. I gave him a quill, ink, and my journal, asking him what that particular slave looked like. He promptly drew a picture for me, a picture that matched the image in my mind all these years.
It was my husband's face Krieg drew for me.
He then began to write out the slave manifest for a time, finally stopping as he found himself unable to recall more. I observed that my name was nowhere to be found, but Krieg told me that there was more he needed to write down and he'd finish the list later. I looked over what he wrote and saw the list of names clearly. Slave #56 was my husband. The name that was listed was Ezreth.
That name was one of the pieces of my past that I had lost, and now I had found it.
Session Journal Fourteen, conclusion
Krieg continued to explain that he had taken Ezreth's body to the Ossuary and hoped that I approved. Aran asked with a hint of trepidation if the proper rights had been given to my husband. That sent a stab of worry and grief through me, but I replied with the only answer I could give.
“I don't know.”
Krieg then informed me that it had been his task to send my body there as well. After my previous hostile behavior, he seemed scared of me. I wasn't angry with him now, and Aran explained this to him, but I did my best to reassure him that I wasn't angry about what he'd done. The old man had done what he'd had to, nothing more. Aran also wondered about the wedding ring, for it was odd that Durran would let such a thing in the hands of slaves, let alone two. Durran was also quite possessive of his slaves, particularly his female slaves. I made note of this but let it lie.
Axel and Dheza returned at that moment, both covered in slime, rat bones, vomit, and sewer sludge. Dheza, however, wore very little else, his clothing and armor now gone. They reported that there were slimes in the sewers but that the wall had been rebuilt. Aran commented dryly as he got a robe for Dheza that the instances of slimes had been on the rise lately, earning sarcasm from Dheza. Aran promised to send things to House Besal for Dheza and we soon departed. I admit that I didn't care to hear the story behind their escapades, as Dheza's casual behavior was trying my patience. I admit freely that my patience was already sorely tested at that point, however. Krieg said he'd come with us, as he knew Skadas Shee well. We agreed to this, Axel pointing out the benefits of a guide, and Aran let him go with his blessings.
Dheza was soon suitable attired in House Besal garb and we agreed to leave the next day for Skadas Shee. Aran helped us by providing us with travel papers so that we could move about with less trouble. Sheenosek isn’t as rigid as the Empire regarding identification, but I’ve learned from wandering over the years that having such papers expedite matters. Our objectives are simple: find the slaves, free them, and then forcibly evict the church of Skaden from politics forever, followed by chastisement of House Anda. The next morning I introduced Krieg to Rhiannon and made another attempt to heal his face, this time trying out a regenerate spell. My own tattoo had faded and the scars remained, a mute testament to what I had been. Krieg's tongue regrew and his scarring faded to something much softer. I don't think I can fix his face completely, but he was overjoyed by what I'd done. Once Dheza conjured multiple phantom steeds for the others, we left Dorshec for our final destination.
Excellent journal as always.
I am trying to badger one of the other players to provide an alternate perspective, at least to this past session. The Glorious Tale of Dheza in His Birthday Suit needs to be told by someone with a slightly more upbeat outlook on life than Morag. :)
If nothing else, I may have to write Aran do Sheen's perspective on the matter. ;)
If anyone outside the group is still reading this--Lathiira does a tremendous job of chronicling the campaign from Morag's perspective. But you may not be aware that Morag is often the "straight woman" to the antics of the various other characters. There is often a great deal of humor injected into the sessions (and the last session we were all destressing from various real life things so there was much mirth and OOC frivolity). I really appreciate the journals of Morag because they certainly are a wonderful record of the story, and especially her story--and often help remind me what the story is that I'm supposedly plotting. :) But I admit I sometimes fear that it looks like we are playing a rather grim game that takes itself far too seriously. It's only Morag that takes herself too seriously--and we love her for it. :)
Excellent journal as always.
I am trying to badger one of the other players to provide an alternate perspective, at least to this past session. The Glorious Tale of Dheza in His Birthday Suit needs to be told by someone with a slightly more upbeat outlook on life than Morag. :)
If nothing else, I may have to write Aran do Sheen's perspective on the matter. ;)
If anyone outside the group is still reading this--Lathiira does a tremendous job of chronicling the campaign from Morag's perspective. But you may not be aware that Morag is often the "straight woman" to the antics of the various other characters. There is often a great deal of humor injected into the sessions (and the last session we were all destressing from various real life things so there was much mirth and OOC frivolity). I really appreciate the journals of Morag because they certainly are a wonderful record of the story, and especially her story--and often help remind me what the story is that I'm supposedly plotting. :) But I admit I sometimes fear that it looks like we are playing a rather grim game that takes itself far too seriously. It's only Morag that takes herself too seriously--and we love her for it. :)
I agree, Dheza's New Clothes has to be written!
I'd like to see Aran's perspective as well; it's going to be fun reading those first few lines that begin with "I walked into the room and saw...."
As the journal author, I do have to admit that Morag is pretty grim. I created her that way, on purpose. She most definitely is the straight woman, especially now that Jour the paladin has left the party. We're also now dealing with a society that has certain unsavory habits (e.g. slavery, animation of the undead) that add elements of gritty darkness to the game. Some things, such as my comments about Kieren's teasing Morag about bacon, get laughs from all of us at the table. But from Morag's perspective, those kinds of things can be annoying. I also usually neglect to put her rebuttals into the journal, which have varied from queries to Rhiannon to kick people to comments about switching heal and harm the next time I cure people.
To give more perspective, I posted 2 short stories from the perspective of Kieren, the ranger/wizard/arcane archer in our group. I still hope to hear from Dheza's player though.
For readers, Morag's about to go through some of the most traumatic events of her existence if things go the way I think they will. Maybe after that she'll spend some skill points or a feat slot for a sense of humor, but first she is likely to bring the wrath of god down on a few people!
Speaking of grim and moody herself....
Session Journal Fourteen Interlude
Melania
I find that Krieg is relearning the proper use of his tongue. At least, I think he is; he seems to spend a good deal of time now talking to himself. He may be practicing unimpaired speech or he may be less than sane. I choose to think he is relearning speech—it is a matter of faith and hope.
I asked the half-orc who has chosen to help us shape the future of Sheenosek for whatever information he retained regarding the original manifests that held my husband’s fate as well as my own. Tonight I asked him several questions that have been troubling me. After he had eaten dinner, I sat down across from him and asked him one of those questions.
“Krieg,” I asked gently. I know he is not well, both physically and mentally. I tried to be gentle because he was the first person I had met who held the keys to my missing past. And he deserved it.
He raised his eyes slowly to meet my gaze. It was the equivalent of “what is it?”
“Krieg, how did you know to whom to give the ring?” I asked quietly, placing a hand on my chest over Ezreth’s wedding ring.
He sat there quietly for a time, but I realized that his lips were moving. Slowly he became audible to me as he worked himself up to full volume. I realized he was reciting something and I listened closely, hoping it held the answer.
Session Journal Fourteen Interlude, part 2
"Fourth Triasday Meriloom. Eleven captives processed. Fifty-one 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61. Fifty-one sent to servitor pit. Fifty-two sent to servitor pit. Fifty-three, 54, 55, sent to Garuk for resale. Fifty-six sent to servitor pit.” I fought down my fear for my lover long dead at those words. I’d already know that Ezreth had been condemned to that fate, but it still hurt to hear it. “Fifty-seven, 58 sent to Garuk for resale. Fifty-nine fits criteria outlined by High Priest." He paused and blinked at me.
It seems that I was number fifty-nine, if what Aran and Krieg have told me is true. A number, not a person. This I find revolting. But Krieg continued as I reined in my seething anger.
"Fifty-six and 59 behavioral problem. Do not want to be separated, becoming violent. Fifty-nine must not be damaged, orders of High Priest. Removed personal items." He hung his head. "Clerk Krieg violated code 5 section C, all items belonging to slaves must be returned to processing for collection and archiving. Kept personal items, did not log. Promised to keep safe. Fifty-six and 59 behavioral problem resolved."
Did Ezreth and I ask him to keep our rings? Or was it just one of us? For the personal items must have been our rings. I cursed my missing memories, yet here I sat striving to find them. And how was our behavioral problem “resolved”?
He blinked then and flipped many phantom pages as if he were paging through a book. I wonder at his mannerisms. Perhaps it is comforting for him, the one thing he has done all this time that hasn’t caused him pain?
"Fifty-nine reported dead.” Hearing Krieg report my death sent a chill down my spine. It wasn’t quite the chill of death, but rather of knowing that worse was coming. “Clerk Krieg retrieved from kitchen midden and took to ossuary for correct processing. Returned unreported personal item.”
I know orcs commonly bury their dead with personal effects. If he did the same for me, then I can at least respect him for granting me the same decency. Warriors speak of someone “stepping on their grave”, but here was the man who put me in my grave. How could I be angry with him for that? Is that not what I do for others?
He paused then, pantomiming flipping back. "Fifty-six taken to ossuary, personal item not returned because hands gone. Krieg kept safe."
I think this means that Ezreth died before me and that his remains lie in the ossuary as well. I sat there for a time silently, absorbing what Krieg told me. He didn’t answer my question, not directly, but I can guess what happened. Ezreth or I or both of us asked Krieg to keep our rings for us. In death, he kept Ezreth’s ring for us. I cringed at the thought that my husband, a man with such talented hands that could make a shuttle sing or a lute weep for joy, had died mutilated. But I expect no kindness, no courtesy from the Chosen of Skaden. And in time I will once more give none.
I finally broke that silence, as Krieg seemed to have spoken as much as he could and sat there watching me warily. I regret that the first time we met he saw nothing but my wrath. I think I once was a much gentler person and that any kindness I retain is a memory of my past life. I leaned forward and hugged the old man. His eyes grew wide as he found me in his arms and he slowly returned my hug. I leaned forward and whispered into his ear, letting him know how I felt.
"Thank you, Krieg."
I withdrew from his arms and rose, walking away into the night. I had much to think about then, and I wanted time to consider it. Krieg I left to his own devices. He’s already done so much for me, the least I could do was let him rest.
Session Journal Fourteen Interlude part 3
Later that night I stood awake, my prayers done, my thoughts still racing about like a newborn foal. I confess that if anyone had tried to sneak up on me, I wouldn't have known they were there until I was dead. Krieg approached me as I stared off into the night sky and bowed low, his muttering warning me of his arrival by a scant second.
“Krieg, please don't bow to me,” I chided lightly. He straightened up then and gave me a tremulous smile. It seemed as if he had yet to become accustomed to his recently-healed face, and this included smiling.
“Slave fifty-nine, processed.” Krieg began. I immediately gave him my full attention. He'd told me previously of slave fifty-nine, the person that I once was. I waited for him to continue.
“Fits criteria outlined by High Priest. Compare, ship's manifest.” Krieg's face screwed up in an intense effort as he tried to remember those long-lost pages. He'd promised to try to put the rest of the manifest in my hands, so I wondered what was so important that he tried now to recite it from memory.
“Me...Me...Melania.” Krieg concluded with a triumphant smile.
I fell to my knees right there, floored by that one word. It was my name. My blessed, lost name. Melania. His accent was poor, but I recognized it. Slave fifty-nine was me, and I was Melania. Memories flooded my mind. I remembered so many things that I'd forgotten, memories lost returning in a rush. Krieg's elation faded as I knelt there, every moment of my past life flashing before my eyes. No—not every moment, but many of them. My childhood returned with a snap. I remembered growing up and meeting Ezreth, a shy young boy who grew up to court a shy young woman. I remembered standing before the Chosen of Pirs on our wedding day.
I relived our abduction in a blur. My time as a slave. Ezreth's loss.
My death. Meeting Death.
“Sorry,” Krieg finally said, not knowing what to do. I looked up at him as if I had just then seen him for the first time. I had to dash my tears away before I answered.
“No, Krieg, it's all right. You did the right thing. Thank you.”
Krieg probably barely heard my words, but he awkwardly patted me on the shoulder before turning to depart. I knelt there for a long time, the volume of memories all but destroying my grasp on coherent thought. I'd asked Krieg to show me my name on the manifest. It had never entered my mind that my name now was not the same as it was then. I'd changed names to protect myself—or had it changed, in order to protect me. I should ask Death, I remember thinking.
I didn't move again until it was nearly dawn. The sheer weight of repressed memories had kept me there as surely as Kieren’s shackles. I finally rose and prepared to meet with the others, but my mind continued to wander over those moments that I had just that night regained. As distracted as I was, I still had enough presence of mind to wonder about several things. I still did not remember everything; I suspect the most traumatic memories have yet to return. More importantly, I do not know how the people of Sheenosek came to know of me. Krieg nearly became catatonic when he met me, and that was the first time I’d seen him to my knowledge. Somehow, I am a figure of myth here yet I haven’t walked this land in over a decade. There is something here that I do not know, something important. Where that answer lies I do not know. And I want to know. Do the Chosen of Skaden know? Did Durran?
And then there is the ossuary in a cave on the edge of the city. I think I may have reason to visit that place before leaving Sheenosek. My husband’s body lies there, doubtless buried beneath thousands of others. It was once my own final resting place. Given the way Skaden’s followers act, I may well need to go there to do my duty as the Gatherer of Souls. In which case the followers of the Defier should beware, for I will not let their actions stand unavenged.
Session Journal Fifteen: May 30, 2010
Scrithengard Date: Fourth Wandersday-Fifth Marketday of Ataloom
I don't know why I continue to write this journal, after what I—we—have been through these past few days. Some habits are harder to kill than I am, I guess.
We neared the mountains which border the capital city of Sheenosek, Skadas Shee. Our path was fairly plain to see, as we followed the road that connected the capital to Dorshec. We might have been faster if fog in the mountains had not obscured the road so often. Flying has disadvantages when you cannot see where you are going. Because of the winter weather, we stayed close to the ground as we traveled. I left Krieg behind in Dorshec to take care of business for me, although I originally wanted him to join me on this trip. He found for me a groom and a valet just before our departure and I asked all three of them to wait for me in Dorshec until I returned or until they could find their way to Merrywell. I appreciate Krieg's work, but I don't think I'm prepared for an entourage just yet.
My musings on this matter as well as the recent revelation of my past distracted me as we flew down the road. A loud rumble returned my thoughts to the world around me. Kieren soon informed us that a landslide was coming toward us, his experienced ears discerning that the rock slide was following the road. We took to the air and watched as countless tons of rubble passed by us far below. Concerned, we then followed the path of destruction up the mountainside. While we couldn't see the road, the dust and devastation were easy enough to spot. And soon enough flashes of light and flame told us what had caused the avalanche: an open spell-battle.
We opted to charge into the fight and sort out enemies and allies based on House allegiances when we got there. We found a demolished caravan and a trio of animal-headed humanoids attacking a lone figure. The humanoids were rakshasas, all three of which were engaged with a human woman. Dead monsters and guards were strewn everywhere; these were the sole combatants standing. Axel entered the fray first, swooping down and stabbing one rakshasa in the chest. His enchanted blade hit the creature square in the chest—and then bent as if it were a theatrical prop instead of a weapon made in part from the Wanderer's Blood itself. Kieren opened fire with more success on a second creature. Dheza landed to join the woman beside Axel as she counterattacked, quickly blasting the monster Kieren had wounded to dust. One foe vanished while the other cast a protective enchantment. I in turn imbued Axel's blade with the power of the higher planes, knowing that the creatures were vulnerable to holy weapons. In short order a second rakshasa fell, but Dheza had augmented his vision with true seeing and called a warning that the woman was a succubus. The third rakshasa was soon no longer a threat, while the succubus spoke to Dheza briefly. Her hands caressed his face and body for a long moment and she vanished, magically transporting herself elsewhere. I barely overheard her parting words to Dheza, which she spoke with a knowing glance in my direction: “The Iron Tower rises.” I was unhappy that she had escaped but thought little of the matter at the time.
A thorough search of the battle site revealed that forces of House Khan and House Anda were on the field. A thorough interrogation of one of the deceased soldiers confirmed this. The caravan was a House Anda caravan headed into Skadas Shee. My companions happily looted the wreckage and I admit I was a bit pleased when thousands of gold coins' worth of onyx was found, as I had no desire to see anyone raising the undead with that material. Unfortunately, the fallen warrior had little else to add of note.
Axel, Kieren, and Dheza hatched a plan while I dealt with the bodies. We opted to enter the city as before, but now Kieren and I changed into clothing taken from the fallen of House Anda. We found clothing that had belonged to tradesmen and trekked the rest of the way to the gates. I asked Rhiannon to depart for the time being, as Dheza thought she would be likely to trigger some sort of alarm as she entered the city. I wasn't happy with this, but she understood what we needed to do.
Session Journal Fifteen, part 2
Skadas Shee is perched at the peak of a mountain. The wall is twenty feet and then some in height and made of one smooth piece of stone. I wonder if it was pulled up from the mountain itself long ago or the work of a powerful elemental force. The gate guards let us pass without incident but mentioned that there had been several conflicts between the noble houses as well as several assassination attempts against various Houses. Knowing this, we soon found a rooming-house and changed out of the clothing we’d used to enter the city. Established therein, Dheza went to the common room to listen to the local gossip. Axel and Kieren departed to spy out the city's environs, paying particular attention to House Anda's compound and the cathedral of Skaden. I remained in our rooms out of sight. I was in no mood to deal with others and needed the quiet to try to gather my own wandering wits. Given our luck, my appearance in the city would have incited a riot, so resting suited me well. I still must learn if the origin of my myth comes down to the goblins I met years ago....
Several hours later we gathered together to share information. Kieren and Axel found House Anda well-guarded. The temple was in the process of preparing for a ceremony of some sort, which caused the two spies to abort their third objective of spying on the other Houses and return. Dheza had overheard that there were going to soon be a major announcement by House Anda, given by the head of the house and current High Priest of Skaden. House Khan was lying low. Anda and Sheen were skirmishing already. And the drow prisoners we sought were likely to be found in the prison.
Quickly we concocted a plan. We decided to visit House Verras and then House DeShaan in an effort to gather allies. Ultimately, we wanted to convince one or both Houses to strike at Anda. Our best guess was that Anda would try to reinforce the temple of Skaden when we attacked the place later, and we wanted Anda to be hit while they were vulnerable.
The shield guardians that guarded the entrance to the House Verras mansion ignored us, but a magic mouth triggered on our arrival. Dheza formally requested an audience with a scion of the House and we were soon greeted by Rowan do Verras, a woman not too different from myself in age and dressed in the typical House colors and apron. She took an immediate liking to Dheza. To be honest, liking is too mild a term—she was definitely attracted to him. I began to wonder if I was seeing Dheza at his best and also thought he seemed too charming for words. Dheza navigated the political waters with the ease of a master politician, soon learning from Rowan that her House was going to act on their own initiative within a week but that they hadn't marshaled forces sufficient to hit Anda just yet. He wheedled a necklace of missiles from Rowan as well for half its worth and a promise of favors of a personal nature later. When we departed, Rowan's eyes followed him to the near-exclusion of all else. I think we were all amused that Dheza had bought the necklace with funds we’d retrieved from House Anda’s caravan.
House DeShaan was ominously quiet when we arrived. That silence was broken by a scream that prompted us to charge into the building. We found that the mansion had been attacked, for the foyer was the sight of a massacre matching that of the caravan. Bodies of guards, women, children, and a few strange skeletons were everywhere. Noise was still coming from the floor above, so we raced up a floor and followed the sounds of battle.
On the second floor, Kieren raced into the doorway of a room and opened fire on a strange skeletal undead I have yet to place. The skeletal creatures still bore some flesh, albeit not much, and seemed to be covered in shadows. Kieren exposed himself to that creature, but three more appeared from the shadows and nearly surrounded him. He barely managed to dodge several blades from his four assailants. Axel's blade was soon imbued with power to obliterate the unliving by myself and he raced into the room opposite to engage two more of the creatures. One skeletal monster exploded into bone dust as the shadowdancer quickly struck home. I channeled positive energy into the most potent healing spell I knew and threw that power into Kieren and the quartet of undead around him. The strange skeletons all nearly crumbled to dust on the spot, while Kieren was rejuvenated to the peak of health. Dheza blasted one with rays of pure fire, felling it. Kieren's hands were a blur on his bowstring as he shot the other three. Axel broke off as his final foe vanished into the shadows and raced down the stairs.
Session Journal Fifteen, part 3
In turn, I ran into the room where Kieren had been heading to find a man bleeding out before my eyes. I managed to hold him to life by a few scant seconds as I forced his wounds to close with a brief prayer. I healed him to full health and consciousness a moment later. He woke warily, his mind momentarily befuddled with his last memories, but he introduced himself soon enough as Sirind, a scion of House DeShaan. Axel returned and reported his success in destroying the last assassin while the House scion took us to the magically-sealed third floor. He explained that the assassination attempts had been going on for weeks and that the heads of the House had retreated to other cities, particularly Orec in the southeast. Sirind gave us his blessing to take the gear the skeletons bore and what they had been trying to steal. I noted that the undead all bore blades tainted with necromantic energy but put them aside as we quickly dispersed magic to people and I dealt with the fallen. Axel passed to me a wand that temporarily increases the willpower of those it affects. A few scrolls went to Dheza and to Kieren, while Dheza and Axel began to chuckle when they discovered an enchanted rod amidst the other treasures.
With Verras too slow to act and DeShaan wounded, we realized we needed to hit the temple of Skaden tonight despite our overall progress with the city’s internal politics. I had spent more magic than the others and asked that we take the time to let me pray to Death to renew my energies. They agreed, knowing that I am at my best when at my full power. So several hours later we found ourselves outside the cathedral to Skaden.
My thoughts were a muddled mess when I saw the building. I remember it vaguely and the sight of it filled me with dread. I vaguely remembered black-robed priests and being dragged deep below the temple to a blood-soaked chamber and fought the newfound memories down. The two huge front doors of adamantine were shut, though Axel had entered the temple earlier in the day. These were our first obstacle though not our first foe.
A large portion of a stained-glass window animated and approached us, the glassy golem easily towering over any of us. Kieren blasted it with arrows as Axel raced to the now-vacant window and dove through in an effort to open the doors from within. Dheza blasted the golem with magic and Kieren finished it. We were showered with glass shards as the strange construct exploded. None of us emerged unscathed from that final strike. I stared at those immovable doors for a long moment as Kieren tried to warp the stone around them in an effort to force one to fall to the ground. We were shocked to find the metal doorframe attached to a sheet of lead within the thick stone wall, but I wasted no more time worrying about the door. I called on the magic of my cloak, grabbed Kieren and Dheza, and slipped between dimensions.
We were attacked almost as soon as we appeared. Guards on the sides of the room were joined by guards on the balcony. Axel was nowhere in sight, but another golem blasted us with a rain of glass shards even as javelins rained down on us. Several of those javelins transformed into bolts of lightning, sorely hurting Dheza, Kieren, and myself. We had appeared in the main hall of the chapel as I had planned, but now our path to the altar was blocked by a wall of blades. Beyond it we could see skeletal undead in a teeming mass and a Chosen of Skaden.
Dheza repeated the trick I had pulled and slipped us between dimensions. I blinked my eyes to make the world stop moving for a moment and found myself face-to-face with a Chosen of Skaden, Dheza and Kieren beside me. The priest withdrew into a nearby room before we could stop him. In his wake two huge creatures appeared on our flanks. Each one stood fifteen feet tall if I recall correctly. Two humanoid arms sprouted from their chests. Their heads were dog-like, but their larger arms were tipped with claws fully as long as my arms. The first of the two demons tore into Dheza first, but he managed to dodge the worst of their blows. I was too off-balance from the pair of dimension doors to avoid the attack of the second demon. Those enormous claws rent my burned flesh once, forcing a short-lived scream from my lips. The second blow slammed into my chest and I felt several ribs give in my chest from the attack.
When the claws snapped my spine to pieces I felt nothing more.
Session Journal Fifteen, part 4: Morag's afterlife
I felt as though I were falling for a long time. It was as dark as my dress, this place, and warm and very comforting. I also felt the embrace of a phantom being, a touch that lasted forever and not nearly long enough. I knew that whoever held me loved me without reservation, but her grasp was that of a mother, not a lover.
The next sensation I felt was the strength of sinew and muscle beneath my arms. Rhiannon was there, my arms around her neck, as she whuffed at me in that way she has, that expression of caring that I've already grown accustomed to. She spoke to me, the words strange in my ears though we have spoken together before.
“Our mistress said you had the right to be shown where you are to go.”
A dreamy village appeared then out of the darkness, like many I had seen in my travels yet more than any of them. We rode down the street and came to a halt at the fence that separated one field from another. Ezreth was there and the sky transformed into a beautiful golden color. It took me a moment to realize that golden color was from the fields of ripened wheat that had become the sky. I sat there and took in the sight, strangely pleased.
I felt a tug then, a subtle call. It was as if someone called my name from far away. I could not place that voice, it was one I had never heard before. I ignored it for a time, happy to be where I was. But that voice was persistent.
Morag, called the Gatherer of Souls, you are needed in the world of the living.
That broke me from my reverie. I knew then that I was dead. That shock forced me to stop watching Ezreth and to start thinking about what was going on around me. I felt Rhiannon's posture shift beneath me, as if she were holding her breath.
I felt a gentle breeze stir my hair and I sighed contentedly. I watched my husband for a time, but then I shook my head.
“I can't stay here, Rhiannon,” I said wistfully. “I have pledged myself to Death. I gave her my word when I last came here that I would walk Scrithengard until her daughter passed to wherever gods go when they die and then take Tria there myself. I haven't kept my promise yet. As much as I want to stay, I can't. Melania is dead, and she can remain here. But I am the Gatherer of Souls, and I am still needed.”
Rhiannon nodded and turned away from the pastoral scene. The village was gone in the blink of an eye and the starry void that I knew had returned. The sky now bore a resemblance to a woman's face, though it was too shadowed for me to discern any features. The stars moved and galaxies twirled as the night sky spoke.
That was unexpected, I must say. Thank you for your dedication. On your return, you might consider some of your perceived threats as opportunities.
No sooner had I heard those words then Rhiannon and the woman seemed to pause and wait for a signal from me. I looked down at Rhiannon and then upward into that sky and frowned.
“Mistress,” I acknowledged, bowing as low in the saddle as I could. “I will consider your words carefully, if I can. But for now, I must go. There is work to be done. While I would prefer to remain here, I think that if I did, I would know that I had somehow let great evil happen. Evil I can prevent. And that would mean that for me there is no paradise. Not yet.” I patted Rhiannon's neck gently.
“Let's go, Rhiannon. I have unfinished business in Sheenosek. There are fiends to banish and Chosen to chastise. The people of Sheenosek fear my coming. Let us give them a reason why.”
Rhiannon took off across the void then and my last memory of that place was of that cool caress on my cheek as I departed, brushing away the tear I had shed in my wake.
Session Journal Fifteen, conclusion
Cold stone greeted me as I awoke, confused. Kieren, Dheza, and Axel all greeted me with a simple “welcome back”. I stared at my surroundings and finally realized I was in a temple to Atanna, goddess of conquest, strategy, tactics, and order. The Chosen that stood over me eyed me for a moment, nodded in satisfaction, and then waved toward the door.
“If you'll hold up your end of the bargain,” she asked, addressing my companions. They turned to leave and I pulled myself down to the floor. I was still disconcerted and leaned heavily on the altar for support, but I understood what had happened.
I had died. Again. I glanced down at my stomach and saw the red line of barely-healed flesh that marked where the demon had nearly cut me in half and grimaced.
I rifled through my bag for a moment and extracted an old scroll and the recently-acquired wand, noting that the diamonds I had been carrying were now fewer in number. I mentally shrugged; I had kept them against such an emergency as this, but never expected to need them myself. I gave the wand and scroll to the Chosen.
“Thank you,” I said simply. “I hope we never need to meet again, but if we do, I thank you for my life.” I didn't wait for a reply as I followed the others out of the temple.
Kieren informed me that they had used another dimension door to evacuate from the temple of Skaden. Axel leapt through the shadows and joined up soon afterward. They had opted to come to Atanna's temple in an effort to revive me and persuaded the Chosen to do so with an understanding that we would depart as surreptitiously as possible and with a pledge of silence from both sides. We had managed to implicate House Khan in the attack, however, by leaving their insignia behind from the caravan raid. I still had mine in my bag as well as the clothes of a now-dead tailor, waiting for the day when we rejoin our drow compatriots.
There is an air of defeat amongst us now. We did minimal damage to the forces of the temple, a fact that stirs a flame in my heart. We hope that we did just enough to stir the temple that whatever political machinations House Anda has in place are thrown off-kilter, but it is only a hope. Later today Namak do Anda, who is the Lord of the House as well as the High Priestess of Skaden, and Enduras do Sheen will both make major announcements. What they will be, I do not know. I am weary beyond words right now as I sit up in bed and write these words. The first rays of the dawn illuminate the sky now. Tomorrow has come. Whether or not we rise to meet it, I do not know. We have been warned by a questionable source about the Iron Tower, whatever or whoever that might be. My Mistress suggested that we reconsider who we perceive as foes. Skaden's forces routed us, a fact that my barely-healed back and ribs can attest to. Most of my spells were lost as I crossed the Shadowed Veil and returned, so Kieren, Axel, and Dheza are wounded as well. If we cannot find a way to turn this around, I fear that the Chosen of the Defier will soon rule this land. If we let that happen, what happens next will be on our heads.
Author's Notes
First, I apologize for the pages of text I put up when I post. We only play 1/month at best, so we try to get a lot done while we're gaming. Also, my character doesn't exactly do "succinct".
Second, I, as always, would love to hear what the readers have to say. Seriously. The sound of crickets chirping is annoying.
Third, we gained a level at the end of this session. Kieren is now a Ranger 9/Wizard (universalist) 7/Arcane Archer 2. Dheza I believe is now a Fighter 1/Sorcerer 7/Eldritch Knight 10. I think Axel will be a Fighter 2/Rogue 10/Shadowdancer 6. Morag is now a Cloistered Cleric 10/Contemplative 8. She'll be starting next session down a lot of spells from being hit with raise dead and having used her restoration spells to deal with the negative levels she gained.
Think that's enough for now, comments are welcome. I mean, c'mon, my personal copy of this thing is 79 pages long, someone has to have SOMETHING to say about all this jibba-jabba!
I'd love to see some more comments too, but 'tis a long thread, understandably.
At the end of April's session the party needed I think around 80,000 XP to level.
This session's XP went something like this
50,000 XP: Defeating or otherwise forcing enemy retreat
20,000 XP: Roleplaying, investigating, asking lots of good questions, problem solving, planning, letting the GM go for a walk while you planned, pie.
-1,950 XP: Tactics
- 50 XP: "What kind of hinges are they?" REALLY?
12,000 XP: Sheer f%##ing balls.
;D
I'd love to see some more comments too, but 'tis a long thread, understandably.
At the end of April's session the party needed I think around 80,000 XP to level.
This session's XP went something like this
50,000 XP: Defeating or otherwise forcing enemy retreat
20,000 XP: Roleplaying, investigating, asking lots of good questions, problem solving, planning, letting the GM go for a walk while you planned, pie.
-1,950 XP: Tactics
- 50 XP: "What kind of hinges are they?" REALLY?
12,000 XP: Sheer f%~%ing balls.;D
My viewpoint:
50K XP: Making rakshasas fall down go boom, making undead explode into sparkly lights, and other various forms of therapeutic violent behavior against evil minions.
20K XP: Roleplaying, investigation, plotting, planning, scheming while the GM stretched. Should have been more, but we weren't smart enough to bring more pie. Note to self: more pie, plus more chocolate, should result in more XP. Backrubs might work too.
-1950 XP: Finally being crazy/dumb enough to try a head-on assault. Getting penalized for it when at least Morag has enough sense not to do that, though she qualifies as biased on matters related to the church of Skaden.
-50 XP: Hinges. When I recover I'm smacking the player of the arcane archer for this one. And remember that the answer is "there ARE none". I also feel we were otherwise penalized for the overzealous attempt to apply modern carpentry to the High Cathedral of the most powerful evil religion in the world. Never mind, should have smacked the player at the time. Okay, I gotta agree.
12K XP: Balls? No, lack of common sense. Next time, we start by making a hole in the front door and with more buff spells running. At least until I can gate in a solar.
-1950 XP: Finally being crazy/dumb enough to try a head-on assault. Getting penalized for it when at least Morag has enough sense not to do that, though she qualifies as biased on matters related to the church of Skaden.
The head-on assault wasn't a bad idea by itself. It might not have been your best idea.
From my viewpoint, if I can risk sharing without giving too much away, you actually might have done better if any of the following had occurred:
- Axel stopped screwing around with the door and just told you to come through the window like he did (or it occurred to the rest of you to just follow Axel. The window was a choke point, but its only guardians at the time were two guards. Really, the two-three rounds of messing with the 10x10 504 Hit Point Break DC 48 door WITH NO HINGES probably really weakened your whole position tactically. Maybe I should have just gone InfoCOM and said, "You can't go that way" and been done with it. ;)
- You attempted a different form of entry entirely.
- You guys killed the lightning-javelin bearing minions, THEN chased the cleric. (The one you actually saw was a she. I forgot to tell you that. This is in fact important.)
- You HEALED yourselves BEFORE chasing the cleric.
The method you took was to go up against the Skaden HQ when they were already on full alert from fighting with House Sheen and the other Houses; no matter what, it was going to be a damned hard fight. And maybe we should have stopped before the fight started--maybe folks were just tired.
(Mind, you did not actually lose XP. I'm sure you realize that, but suddenly I'm thinking someone's going to read this and is going to actually take my previous post seriously. Except where you earned XP for sheer f%%*ing balls. That part was serious. *nod nod*)