Journal Bjorn Thorskirk # 9 & 10
We are back at sea now and on our way to the auction, I now have a moment to resume my recollections . Having cleared the temple to the foul devil we proceeded to the rectory for further investigation. At this point we learned that the prison held one of the former lord's sons, a man named Florin who was in disgrace for following the church of Rao. Certainly an improvement over devil worship, if only barely. It was said he was visited nightly by an angel and healed of his tortures that were inflicted daily. Truly a sign of his faith as he had little respite from his torments even in the night hours.
As the hour was late we decided to leave him safely where he was for the moment and ensure the village was secured. To this end we went to check out the lord's manse. When we arrived we were set upon but the dwarven mercenaries we had earlier spared on condition they leave immediately. As they had broken their parole they paid the price. It was a short but nasty fight in close quarters, and given their ability with crossbows probably a better location for us to fight them.
Having cleared the last vestiges of the old regime, we freed Florin and established him as new lord. Given how steeped in evil this region is I do not have a lot of hope for him having a long reign. However, he is most definitely a modest improvement. He said he believed that there were many in the village who would support him. I hope for his sake he is right.
Not long after setting up the new lord the storm broke, and we were again on our way. Given the suddenness of the storm and its breaking soon after we had excised the rot here, I think the Storm Lord may have had a guiding hand in our presence. I never cease to wonder at the Majesty of the Lord. It may be that this area has a greater destiny than I know. I shall have to keep it in mind.
We have made it to Alaster, and barely in time as the auction is tomorrow. The city proper is an orderly place, though it seems there is a pall of fear that keeps it in order. This would not be a good place to stay for long, and my skin itches as if I am under constant unseen eyes. We attend the auction tomorrow and with luck I will pick up Bella a little something, though checking I do not seem to have the resources I thought. We shall see.
Jarl Sturgleson,
My lord I have learned, what it is Starke was after here. It is some sort of construct called a Warforged.
I do not know much about these and your scholars my be able to find out more. There is some talk that they may be self aware even alive in a way that a golem is not. I had no interaction with it personally and cannot comment further. Though it is possible that it is nothing but a very advanced construct which would be more concerning in Starke's hands.
Let me relate events as they transpired. We made port barely in time for the auction. Having secured quarters outside the city walls we prepared for the following day. At auction we failed to win the construct for Starke, and I must admit I was not too disappointed, however Bella may have earned the enmity of the local lord in forcing up the final price, and if not that certainly later actions.
The lord having won the auction announced he would parade his acquisition though the city to his palace. Bella had some plan for stealing the construct if it should make it to the palace, but there were several other interested parties at the auction who seemed eager to obtain it so we were not sure that it would make it that far.
To ensure it made it as far as the palace we decided to shadow its progress, and not far from the new construction of the palace walls the procession was attacked by a dark spawn and its shadowy companions. Seeing opportunity we also sprang into action and fought the assailants.
In the ensuing battle I noticed that the leader bore a symbol of the dark trickster. This renewed my efforts to ensure that they did not gain possession. We either killed or ran them off and in the chaos Bella, Darren and the construct slipped away.
Darren later let us know that Bella, using a scroll, opened a portal though which she and the construct passed. When we make landfall in Grimsburg I will find out if Starke does indeed have possession or not and let you know.
Your respectful servant,
Bjorn Thorskirk
Journal
We are again at sea, and may or may not have succeeded in the task we were sent for. Though I think it would be a bad idea to return while the current lord is in power. We went to the auction and while we failed to gain the item Starke sent us for Bella won an item she long wished for. I had hoped to obtain it for her but it was beyond my means. For that matter it was beyond hers as well. She has gone into debt with Starke to posess it. I gave here what I could to reduce the debt, and the hold Starke has over her. She is a valuable companion. One I hope is okay, for she is not with us now. Darrel tells me that she and the construct passed through a portal she cast from a scroll after the battle of the town square.
I have also encountered a minion of the untrusted one. Their interest in the construct we were sent to get concerns me but not as much as the fact that whatever way we travel we are running into signs of them. There is something far greater at work, and I hope we are srtong enough to face it when the time comes.
I have felt my powers and confidence increasing since leaving the monastery, but am aware of my shortcomings. I trust in Thor to see me through however and his challenges have only strengthened me so far. I can only do as i see right and hope it carries me through.
I am a little concerned about Torrfin, he seems a little more distant as if there is something bothering him. I will let him know that if he needs anything I am there to support him. As for Darren, he seems to blow which ever way the wind blows, he is young and still finding his way but he needs to soon develop a path and stick to it or he will alienate all. I shall have to take him to one side and talk to him soon.
Bella's journal
Session 10: Heart of Steal
I have arrived home successful, my reputation in Starke’s eyes growing. Until this moment I would have been uncertain, but now I know that I am quickly becoming an asset to Victor and not merely a novelty. The time for the two bit jobs is over, Starke will now trust me with the big jobs, and he’ll never disrespect me like he would any other woman. He is exactly where I want him, and all it took was delivering him a glorified sword (the warforged).
As suspected there were other interested parties in the package. When Zeech foolishly paraded it to his palace they saw their opportunity. Some kind of tiefling sorcerer and a band of mercenaries attacked the parade, blasting the guards with fire magic and alchemy, immediately sewing mass panic in the crowd of onlookers. Among the mercenaries, two stood out from the flock. They were cloaked in shadow and moved with deadly grace- in all likelihood trained assassins, the kind that trade a portion of their souls for dark power to make them more deadly killers.
These attackers quickly closed in, bursting out from the crowds. Some of the mercenaries attempted to finish off the distracted and wounded guards, while others moved directly towards the wagon, presumably in an attempt to free the warforged. We used their attack as a distraction, closing in around the construct and bolstering the ineffectual city guard. We were careful not attack the guards and focus on the mercenaries, but Zeech’s guards didn’t know what was going on and saw us all as enemies. Darren and I both jumped into the wagon that held the cage containing the warforged. There we battled the mercenaries that were attempting to either free of the warforged or steal the wagon. Unfortunately, the sorcerer’s initial fireball had spooked the horses, and we were only barely able to leap aboard before they jolted forward and charged down the street towards the market trampling several of the scorched guards that had led the procession. It was chaos. A few mercenaries were on the wagon, and Darren and I were locked in a three-way fight with them and the wagon driver and his guard. Furthermore, the tiefling was still hurling spells at us. At some point, I was hit by a flask of alchemist’s acid, which caused me great agony as it seared my flesh. Torfinn tried to help by hurling spells from the sidelines, and somehow Deryl managed to get up on a rooftop where she too tossed spells down at our foes. I also recall one of the assassins suddenly appearing in the back of the wagon. It was as though he’d materialized out of nowhere. He and Darren faced off, and I tried support Androsax, by putting a few bolts into the bastard. Unfortunately, when the assassin first appeared he wasn’t fully tangible, and my bolts near passed through him, causing much less damage than they normally would have. Luckily, Darren’s swordsmanship served him well, and I was impressed to see that he managed to parry most of the assassin’s attacks.
The wagon careened onward, and the sorcerer and the second of his assassin hirelings chased after the out of control wagon. Mighty Bjorn hurried after them, while the remainder of the tiefling’s mercenaries were delayed by a running battle with the surviving members of the wagon’s guard. Fighting on the wagon was a challenge. It jostled about and made it difficult to load and aim Touch of Death, but it became more so when one of Torffin’s spells stunned the horses causing them to fall forward into the dirt. The wagon came crashing to a halt, and the cage that held the warforged was flung off. Both Darren and fell down, but at least we stayed in the wagon, unlike the majority of our enemies. The events are now a blur. One of the mercenaries managed to make it to cage. He used some sort of alchemical acid to weaken the lock, and the warforged was able to kick open the door. The tiefling had been badly wounded, and I suspect he was contemplating retreat. He should have done so. Instead, seeing his prize was free, he cast a spell that took control of the warforged. However, before he was able to make off with it, I put a bolt into his hellspawned head. The construct snapped free of his charm, and panicked. It bolted, plowing through the crowds and running off into the city. By this time reinforcements from the city guard had organized were closing in. They were ready to arrest us despite the fact that we had not fired a single shot at them. Not knowing how this would eventually play out, we still restrained ourselves from attacking them. I leapt out of the cart ran after the construct.
It was easy enough to keep in my sights for it plowed its way through the crowds that thronged the market, leaving a trail of screaming civilians behind. Where it relied on force, I relied on agility, and I wove my way among the throngs with grace. I soon realized the Darren was also chasing the thing, but it seemed that we’d left the rest of our companions behind. A squad of city guard was in turn pursuing us, but they could not keep up with their armor and shields slowing them. The sprint was tiring, but I was doing well. We made it out of the market, but then I came upon a wall. It was a new section of city wall that was under construction, apparently an attempt to seal the noble quarter off from the main part of the city. Several stories of wooden scaffolding lined the incomplete wall. The warforged had already begun to climb up. I don’t know where he thought he’d go, but I could do nothing but continue the pursuit. At this point, Androsax overtook me, and he made a backhand comment, as he used his great strength to haul himself up the scaffold with ease. I clumsily climbed up after them, fueled by my embarrassment that the fool could over shadow me in anything. The package was not far ahead of us, and we had reached one the uppermost section of scaffolding.
I watched as Derren chased after our quarry along the planks and leapt between a gap that separated one section of scaffold from another. The earlier humiliation of the climb was still burning in my mind, and I jumped after him. Unfortunately, my leap fell short, but I managed to catch onto the second level of scaffold. I cursed my body’s failing energies and made my mistake as gracefully as I could. Then I hauled myself back onto the scaffold and continued the chase. I hazarded a glance back over my shoulder to see if any of the guards were still on our tails. One of them, the commander I believe, had managed to keep up better than I had thought, and I was just in time to see him attempt the gap. He was wearing heavy armor. I think he realized what a bad idea it was and tried to change his mind at the last second, but by then it was too late. He had already stepped forward. He plummeted to the ground far below where he landed on a pile of bricks. I shook my head and hurried after my quarry.
Finally, I was able to catch up with Derren and the package. I couldn’t see them clearly because they were directly above me and the planks blocked my view. However, I could hear the boards groaning under their weight, and it was clear that they were locked in a grappling match. Instead of trying to get up to their level, I decided I might try to reason with the thing from below. The ancient war machines of the Bael Turath empire were said to have had a facsimile of sentience, like talking dogs. I called out to him, making him aware of the situation. The guards had surrounded us down below, and it was only a matter of time before they made their way up or took us down with arrows. I explained this situation to him, and told him that we would be able to teleport him to safety with the ritual I carried with me. We were his best shot of getting out of the city. I tried to convince him of this and hoped that he would come quietly. Luckily, he was listening and he believed me. I don’t think he fully trusted me, but I at least had convinced him to let us help him try to escape. The three of us climbed up onto the top of a newly built section of the wall. They hadn’t completely filled it in yet, and their was a shallow trench running down its center that we were able to take shelter in. There I pulled out my scroll and began the ritual that would take us back to Grimsburg.
Derren attempted to lead our pursuers away, and he was able to for the most part but too many had seen us. I was moments away from completing the ritual when they closed in on us. Derren proved his worth here; his fighting far outweighs his skill in diplomacy. He held his ground against three fully trained soldiers and none passed him to disrupt my casting. The machine also helped, apparently convinced of our intentions from watching our bounding fighter.
It took all my concentration but with one last deft stroke I completed the circle and a tear opened in front of me and within I could see the basement of Starke’s bar in Grimsburg. It spluttered, the connection unstable and I knew it would close in just a couple seconds. It was my first ritual, I was overjoyed to see it work, especially under these conditions. Screaming out to the construct I dove into the rift, and it followed me. Then it closed. Darren and my companions had been left behind. In a way I was glad because it gave Zeech’s men no chance to follow us, but I hoped that Darren would be able to away.
We had taken advantage of the situation and had escaped with Zeech’s prize. I would have felt proud of myself if I hadn’t seen a flaw in the plan. Here I was, a soft fleshy humanoid in a room, alone with a giant, metal, man shaped machine built solely for the purpose of killing people. I continued to try to keep the warforged calm. I called one of Victor’s henchmen down to the basement where we had arrived. I immediately sent him to fetch Victor, for he alone would be strong enough to subdue the thing. I waited, remaining in the room with the deadly machine.
I had seen the way my companions had looked at the captive construct, and I was glad I had been able to still deliver him to Grimsburg. They did not understand these things as I did. This was not a person, and it was not truly conscious. It had not been born but built, and it had only been built for one purpose: to kill.
It looked at me with menace in its eyes, and in a cold, lifeless voice showed me his restraints. It asked for me to release its hands as a show of good faith. Being alone with the weapon, I didn’t see any other choice but to undo his bonds, or I truly believe it would have tried to kill me. It had already demonstrated that it was plenty deadly even with restraints. I reasoned that it was the only way to hold him here and that Victor could handle him once he arrived.
Unfortunately Victor sent men, and the first words out of one of their idiot mouths were “We’re here to pick up the prisoner”- it was like Derren had joined me. The construct went from docile to dangerous in an instant, and all his rage was centered on me, his betrayer. Knowing a losing battle when I saw one, I dove out of the room and raced up the stairs. It slashed me across the back with a serrated gauntlet as I fled, but I managed to get away. I then sent all of Victor’s men from upstairs down to re-enforce the fools below. I could hear the sounds of the battle as I left the bar. I later learned that it had cost six of his men, but Victor had his warforged.
In a week or so Derren and company would return. In the meantime, I relaxed in my workshop pouring over archaic texts. The strangest thing was starting to happen. The books were mostly Draconic and sometimes, without looking it up, I was starting to understand the words, even how they were spoken. I wasn’t learning them; they were just showing up in my head. It was in one of these ancient texts that I found the Mark. The book I found was not complete and it did not give me much information. It is a mark of prophecy, one of many. This particular mark translated as the mark of the scribe, showing up on great writers and diplomats. As I am neither I continue to search through the libraries for more information; I need to find out why this mark is on me and more importantly how to get rid of it. As it continues to darken against my skin my fear grows.
Our campaign is on a brief break, while one of my players dms for a couple of sessions (a different game in his own homebrew). We'll be back at this one around the 21st of February.
In the meantime, I get to the rare opportunity to be a player for a few sessions. I'm giving a double axe wielding barbarian shifter a try. I've only run him for one session, but its been fun.
Dear Corvin,
Today I set sail with Deryl, Bjorn and Torfinn out of Alhaster and back towards Grimsburg. Bella has magicked her way ahead of us, her mission complete. I am glad to be leaving, for it is a miserable place. Their ruler Zeech is a queer and unpleasant man, prone to tyranny and vanity in equal measure. It will be good to walk through the birded streets of Grimsburg, look upon Brianna again and return to the Vale.
After the auction, we wisely followed the parade from the Kanzaki house to Zeech’s palace. A band consisting of a tiefling warlock and assassins tried to take the warforged, but they were outmatched by the guard and our quick thinking. The construct escaped, and part of me wished to let it go – so living it seemed. But Bella was determined to be the loyal lackey, as always, and the two of us gave hot pursuit. I love it when women run with men: their faces flushed, their breathing hard. Bella attempted to scale some scaffolding, and then I overtook her. At that point I contemplated helping the machine-man find freedom, but my companion was never far behind. With reservation and a sinking feeling, I held off the guard long enough for Bella to escape with her prize. I hate the compromises we must endure, dear brother, to see our noble plan come to fruition. Still, Bella’s dogged determination and doglike loyalty will make her a steadfast subject one day of our small kingdom.
Your brother,
Derren
***
Ode to Brianna:
Curls of brown like the leather tome,
White the face of parchment: the world of words is home.
Black the eyes entrapping, like the ink of new-made mapping
I wish to be a page of your diary; a name to thoughts untiring,
Like a lonely scholar’s love.
A quick journal from Bella,
As soon as the game had begun I let the cold embrace of the shadows shelter me from prying eyes. From the safety of my cocoon I sent my familiar Cullen out into the night, seeking my unwitting prey. Cullen had easily found his two other companions and had relayed their positions to me. It had been too simple to quickly close in on them and take them out of play, then dart back into hiding. This nameless minion was the last. Raising my crossbow I took my shot.
With an anticlimactic grunt he fell quietly in a heap. Thanks to Victor’s special bolts none of them were truly dead, only unconscious, lucky for them. Hopefully when they woke up they would have more respect for women in the organization. Starke may be chauvinistic, but he isn’t blind or stupid.
These men had been new to the guild, and since I had been away had never met me. Unfortunately they had also been in the room when I entered to report to Victor and had felt the need to make a few colourful remarks on my competency. With a wry smile this little exercise had been Starke’s suggestion. The idiots had accepted the “challenge” eagerly.
Hardly satisfied I sauntered from the shadows. Passing by my final victim I feel Cullen land on my shoulders. Standing over his body I look up into the sky and hopefully into Victor’s scrying eyes.
“Thank-you for this opportunity to show your new men what a woman is capable of Victor, if you need me for any other lessons I shall be in my room as usual.”
As I waited for Bjorn to return the down time has enabled me to continue my arcane studies. Leaving the mystery of my mark alone I have started concentrating on Flagg’s captured ritual book in earnest. I had recently acquired some amber and had thought to increase my weapons ascetics with jeweled eyes. Unfortunately anything that catches the light on an assassin’s weapon is a death sentence, so instead I pour over the cryptic cursive text of my fallen enemy in a hope to unlock the mysteries of enchantment. The work is difficult, challenging and far more rewarding then teaching these gentlemen manners.
A few quotes regarding what Darren's been up to since returning to Grimsburg.
"I seen him, round the ol' Boarshead, like before - only he's so much more serious. I e'en saw him swearing off whorin' and fightin' one night. Says to old Mirelda he's in love."
- Labradare Fox, Veteran
"Derren? The second Androsax? Good looking? Not as bright as Corvin? Yeah. Say what you will for the eldest, but young Derren's been spedning a lot of time around Skaldsholm. Even perusing the old bookshops in Velmarket street. Says he's looking for stories of the Templars, heretical orders of knights. Maybe he's got more than a strong sword arm, after all."
- Micerkin, parchment maker
"Master ... the Androsax boy has been around again. He even roughed up Glazy when he muttered someting about the Eye. We have to be careful. Rumour is, they found something in the Vale."
Overheard in the Velvet Taproom
"What's wrong? See this bruise? It was that arrogant pup Derren. he takes off with his sister, all high and mighty about exploring the Vale. Doesn't pay his acadamy fees, doesn't cancel his sword classes. Then out of nowhere, he returns, wanting to spar. I mention something about his family debt, and he plonks a sack of gold on the table. 'This shoul make up for it' he says, a little too smugly. So we have at it, and the next think I know, the footman, the prince and myself are all sprawling on the ground. it was the light, you know. Caught me at a bad angle."
- Rix Seven-fingers, Fencing Instructor
"So this young man, maybe eighteen, built like an ox, comes in asking for ink. I say to him 'Where do you want it, baby?' and he takes off his shirt. Scarred, burned and rippling with muscle, he points to his back and says 'Right here', slamming a parchment on the table. Its like this giant hammer wreathed in a sunburst. The parchment looks like its been torn out of a book. He has fresh cuts on his arm. He wags his coin purse, and honey, I don't ask anymore questions."
- Shemastra, Tattoo Artist
Belladonna Nightshade,
I hope this missive finds you well. We are back in Grimsburg having arrived on the morning tide. If you are free this evening please meet me at the Raider's Maiden, so that we may relate the events after your departure from Alhaster.
Yours in Thor
Bjorn
Jarl Surtur,
Shortly after arriving back in Grimsburg we got in contact with Bella, and I can confirm that Victor Starke has possession of the Warforged. Unfortunately Starke is very paranoid and I cannot get closer to him as regards this project. I am happy to pass along what information I can but my strengths do not naturally run toward espionage. I will seek more information from Bella who seems to have a greater contact and access to Starke and pass along what I find out. If the time comes for direct confrontation with Starke know I will lend my support in full. In the meantime we plan to head north again to see what we can do about the continuing Orc problem.
Respectfully
Bjorn Thorskirk
Jarl Surtur,
I have received your most generous gift and thank you wholeheartedly. I will endeavour to bring honour to it. It also occurred to me that the Scarlet Stone Academy had sent representatives to the auction to bid on the warforged. They would probably be most interested to know that Starke had possession of it. There is the possibility of pitting the two factions against each other to your benefit.
Respectfully
Bjorn Thorskirk
A rare journal from Deryl Androsax.
Since her return home Deryl has been restless and given to agitated ramblings; the word you catch most frequently whispered to herself seems more a question… “Where?” While the party has always thought the child-sorceress 'strange' this behavior does seem out of character...
On the third night home Derren awakes in the night with a sense of foreboding heavy upon him...he hears slow, shuffled footsteps in the hallway outside his room.
He finds Deryl making her way down the hall like a mad, blind woman; muttering to herself in a mixture of common and the sorcerer’s cant she uses during only the most strenuous of arcane feats. With one hand grasping and clutching before her, her second hand claws along the corridor halls.
Derren makes to grab his sister; she is hot to the touch, feverish and slick with sweat. He realizes then that she is asleep, in some sort of trance and moving like one possessed. He hesitates in his attempt to restrain her and Deryl turns to face him. As she ‘looks’ up at her brother he notes that her eyes are open and the irises shift left and right in rapid succession. She claws her hand in front of her chest, twists her ‘clawed’ hand to face out from her and goes through the motion of ‘pushing’ outward…it is an ancient gesture meant to ward off evil. Derren registers blood on her hand and realizes that where she has been groping along the wall, she has done so with enough urgency and force to bloody the tips of her fingers.
Satisfied somehow, she resumes her ‘journey’…without turning around she continues walking, backwards.
It takes a moment for Derren to collect his wits and some deep, purposeful breaths to slow his heartbeat. Concern etched deeply in his face he follows cautiously behind his sister. Her movement remains slow and searching as if she had no familiarity with the building, but she eventually makes her way to the main room. The last of the fire still burns in the fireplace and shadows dance along the walls as it flickers. For a moment Derren worries that Deryl will exit the house but she makes her way, groping and muttering still, towards the fireplace.
A tendril of emotion, fascination perhaps, mixes with the sense of foreboding and her brother watches her progress towards the fire; realizing too late that she is headed directly for the fire itself! Fraternal instinct finally kicks in and he calls out. His muscles coil and tense, preparing to react…when he finds himself suddenly plunged into complete darkness. He fears some sort of magical darkness, so complete is it, but slowly his eyes begin to adapt.
Deryl is in the fireplace, crouched down and appears to be digging through the ashes and remains of the fire pit. Even as he registers this he is moving toward her…fearing for the burns she must be enduring, amazed that she isn’t crying out in pain.
And then it registers: no heat radiates from the fireplace, the fire and embers have been completely snuffed out. Deryl doesn’t even register her brother’s nearness. Not for one second has she ceased digging around in the ashes.
Panic renders Derren immobile and he watches in curious horror. No longer is Deryl digging through the ashes. Instead she appears to be tracing runes in the soot. The sorcerer’s cant is now deep and guttural, inhuman even. She is sweating profusely and swaying to the silent rhythm of her magic working.
Quite suddenly it is over, the cant ceases and Deryl becomes still. The silence lasts only a moment. Derren hears, and feels, the stonework shift beneath him. A piece of the fireplace stone inlay shifts up and out of is ‘place’ with the grinding mechanic similar to a long disused door. From beneath the stone a soft light, like the earliest tendril of sunlight just before dawn, suffuses the fireplace. Deryl reaches into the cavity and withdraws…a dagger!! Cradling it in her hand she traces the flat of the blade with her finger. To Derren it seems she is reading something, tracing outlines and mouthing silently, but he sees no rune work.
Derren doesn’t catch the next words on Deryl’s lips but they are more of that arcane language. Faster than he’s seen his sister move before, she scores the palm of her hand with the blade, drawing blood. Holding the bloodied blade before her it becomes sheathed in flame.
Looking from the blade to his sister’s face Derren realizes that Deryl is staring back at him with an unnerving focus.
“Mine” is all she says before rising and making her exit, leaving a stupefied Derren in the ashes of the fireplace.
Game Session #11
Darren Androsax (human, fighter 5)
Deryl Androsax (human, sorceress 4)
Belladonna (changeling, rogue 5)
Bjorn (human, cleric of Thor 5)
Torfinn (deva, invoker 4)
In our most recent game session, the heroes traveled back north up the Nentir River towards Fallcrest. Due to the orc troubles in the vale, there were few merchants foolhardy enough to risk the journey upriver. However the Swiftwater Halfling clan would not be deterred; they had been plying the river for generations, and it would take more than some orcs to scare them from their work. The Swiftwaters granted the heroes passage on one of their riverboats.
While stopped over in the town of Moonstair, the heroes learned that a particularly troublesome troll had been wreaking havoc on the homesteads outside the town walls. It had even recently made a brazen attack on some homes within the town itself. Town militia, and even a pair of seasoned adventures from the Roaringhorn family had been sent out to slay the beast, but none had returned. At the behest of the town’s half elven lord mayor, the heroes took up the task of ridding the town of the nightmare.
With the help of a retired alcoholic adventurer named Eric Trollarm (a once great archer whose arm had been torn off by a troll), the heroes tracked the beast to its lair in a nearby gulley.
The following is Bella’s journal detailing those events…
Today I have faced my first Troll, and it was just as challenging as the tales say. At first I was skeptical, our guide was a filthy, putrid man named Eric Trollarm who was rotting away in his own misery. I would have preferred to leave him in his pit of a home but unfortunately we needed him to find the monsters lair and apparently he was the only one who could lead us. I made certain to stay upwind.
Having reached the lair of the beast my first act was to send Cullen in. Although not as potent as Deryl in magic, I am particularly fond and proud of my little familiar. I admit that I find myself envious of the girl’s power. My own skills in the arcane arts are comparatively weak, and the homunculus is useless in a fight. It is his ability to scout that has proven more valuable to me then being able to hurl fireballs. A wise assassin soon learns that knowledge is the greatest power of all.
Cullen soon returned and was able to inform me that the Troll was asleep deep in his lair and give a general layout of his cave. My heart racing I entered quietly into its domain and found a suitable spot from which to fire my bolts before letting the rest of my companions enter.
I watched in hiding as Derren charged into the cave. He was trying to be quiet, trying being the operative word. He did not seem to realize that I was using him, an act that I would almost feel guilty for in the moments to come…almost. In fact, I would have felt guilt if the oaf hadn’t tried to show me his non-existent scar after the battle… I mean doesn’t he realize that divine healing doesn’t leave scar tissue? He should, he gets it enough.
As expected, the troll awakened to the fighter’s presence. The Troll’s head crested its nest. I was horrified to see that hanging around the troll’s neck was a golden skull. It was a possessed. Humans were deadly enough in such a state. I could only imagine how terrible a foe a possessed troll might be. I had act with utmost efficiency, and with a cold chill traveling down my spine I released my bolt. It struck true and the monster screamed in pain. Its red eyes scanned the shadows, completely ignoring Derren and settling upon me. With my death in those eyes it leaped into the air and surely would have reached me if my first shot had not hampered its movement. Instead it fell clumsily near Derren who took the chance to close in on his quarry.
Having hobbled my enemy, my second shot ensured that he would stay where he was. As the monster stood I could see the frustration in his face, and the realization that he could not reach me. It turned his full fury upon Derren. I watched as the troll lifted Derren up in the air by the ankles, slammed his body down on the ground like it weighed nothing and then spread his legs and bit down hard between them. I’m sure Derren felt blessed for once that the troll’s jaws were wide enough, and he himself was small enough not to suffer any permanent damage, but it still made my eyes water to watch.
Bjorn was able to reach Derren in time to heal him, and the rest of the battle went without serious incident. Deryl proved to be particularly effective. Our weapons were not as effective as usual, for the thing was healing much of the damage were causing at a phenomenal rate. It wasn’t until Deryl hurled some kind of acid upon it that we all could see that it could not heal. She may be a child, and she may be an Androsax but that doesn’t make her a fool. The intelligent sorceress saw her advantage and pressed it. If we had not had her there the fight would have gone on longer and been a lot tougher. I still believe that this life is still not the life for a girl of her age, but more and more I am finding that I am glad she is with us rather than not. Besides, she is stubborn and even if we left her behind I am sure she would find a way to follow us. It is better to have her here where we can watch her than alone upon our trail. Once Derren dies I shall have to insist that she continue to travel with us. I can already see that Torfin would be indifferent; it would be Bjorn that I would have to convince. I’m sure I could, if pressed, but we will cross that bridge when we come to it.
Session #11 continued.
After dealing with the troubles in Moonstair the heroes continued their journey up river towards Fallcrest. While passing through the Witchlight fens they came across the river boat beached on the shore. There were several human corpses scattered about the beach. The corpses were all recent, and it was clear that they had met horribly violent deaths. Bjorn's journal details this part of the journey along with some of the events that took place after they reach Fallcrest.
Bjorn journal 11
It is good to be heading north again, I feel at home in the smaller towns and villages. Jarl Surtur of Grimsburg has asked us to help in Fallcrest, as they are under threat of attack from the gathering orc hordes. The trip up river has been relaxing (except for the skull possessed troll) and the Halflings are good hosts. There seems to be some disturbance on shore...
Well that was interesting and a bit of a close call for Darren. When we went to shore we found the remains of an attack on a money lender from Fallcrest. There had been rumours of shifter and werewolf attacks on the unwary in the area, and we found definite evidence to verify the rumours. The bodies had been savaged and we found tracks leading into the fens. We also found some chests that had been left behind hidden in the reeds, possibly for future collection by the attackers. Inside the chests was disturbing evidence that the moneylender was a devotee of Asmodeus. We considered pursuing the trail of the attackers. The river boat that belonged to the merchant and his men was still intact and river worthy so we decided to re-float it and continue on our way, as the mission to Fallcrest was urgent and it was deemed imprudent to follow an unknown number of attackers into the fens. The marshy land would give them a great advantage. Though if time was not pressing I am sure we would have ventured forth anyway.
It was as we were about to re-float the boat that we were attacked by several swamp goblins and a pair of odd beasts I am told were cockatrice. I had heard of them but never before encountered them. We managed to kill or run off the attackers, but in the process young Darren was bitten and poisoned by one of the beasts. The result of the poisoning was complete petrification. The only thing I was aware of that would help was a ritual of remove affliction, but unfortunately my training has not progressed far enough for me to preform it, and we had no scroll to make the attempt. However Torfinn seemed to recall that the gland of the beast that did the poisoning could be used to reverse the effect. This reminded me of some of my training in the healing arts along the same lines. We proceeded to remove the glands from the creatures and experiment. Fortunately, for Darren we were successful and we restored mobility to him.
The balance of the journey upriver was uneventful and we made Fallcrest in good time. The town is in turmoil as the Orcs amass upriver. The town has hired some Dwarven mercenaries who are bored now with inactivity and are causing almost as much damage as if the orcs were attacking. On arriving we presented ourselves to the Lord Markelhay after encountering a few of the local Priests of Rao on the way to his keep. Typically they are more concerned with their own power than in the defence of the town, and were pressuring the Lord to expel the local magic user. Our meeting with the lord went as well as could be expected seeing he was under threat of invasion and the five of us were what was sent from Grimsburg at his request for aid. Though, I am sure we will be of more use than a couple of dozen barely trained men at arms.
After speaking with the lord, Torfinn, myself and Darren headed back to the Inn while Bella and Deryl went to talk with the mage- Nimrozan. Since our last visit, there has been much done for the town's defences including closing the wall breach with a palisade and clearing the trees back from the walls. In the morning I will confer with the local Cleric of Odin and look to the training of the volunteer militia.
Dear Corvin,
My first night back in the vale! Our trip back was downright dangerous – we sailed upriver with the Swiftwater clan, stopped over in Moonstair and beached off the Witchlight Fens. Danger and mystery glared at us at every turn- on road and water, city and country. It is like some evil is slowly gathering, churning the dull roots of winter and sprouting cruel and savage flowers.
In Moonstair, a lone troll had attacked the town the evening before our arrival. The insolent thing swam up to the dock and grabbed a few deckhands before slipping away again to its lair. With the help of a one-armed drunkard and sometime hero, we tracked it to its lair in a gully overlaid with brambles. Bella crept in cautiously, covering Bjorn and I as we strode up a narrow den to its under cave warren. The thing awoke at the sound of someone’s clumsiness (I am a forgiving type, and prefer not to remember who), and Bella had it staggered with a crossbow bolt in its braincage. The bolt must have severed some nerve as the wretched thing kept falling. I have never faced a troll, let alone in single combat. St. Aurielous would have been proud! You should see the scar I have across my belly – the thing reached for my legs, threw me to the ground, tried to tear my legs apart, and as though that wasn’t enough, it took a great bite out of my groin. The pain was white hot, the panic was overwhelming and I can scarce put words together save this: Thank the Gods for codpieces. My friends now call me Derren Trollchoker. I kind of like it, as it takes a lot to choke a troll.
Sadly, there were no survivors of the troll’s raid that we could rescue. We burned the bodies and returned their gear to Moonstair.
On the river north, we fell across a shore where a boat was grounded and corpses gathered. I leapt onto the derelict vessel, my friends behind. Some savage ambush had caught these merchants unawares – many clawed hands across their bellies and pawed feet in the sandy shores. I even discovered the body of a Fallcrest moneylender named Amros Kalroth among the slain, and in possession of some Asmodean artefacts. Deryl found the deed to his house and decided to keep it. Perhaps we will have an Androsax hall in Fallcrest sooner rather than later! I must remember to investigate the presence of devil worship in the vale sooner. Tired of our endless debates to sail on or follow a trail, some swamp goblins attacked us, with these horrid clucking, poisonous pets that nearly bit my gibbets off a second time that week. I don’t remember much after facing off against one of them ... Deryl later told me I had turned to stone. She was worried that my friends were going to leave me on the shore, or toss me into the river ... but surely she misunderstood their adult humour. I came to myself along the river, but it took a day for my full eloquence to return to me.
We returned to the vale, managing to make as good an impression on Lord Marklehay as we did a bad one with Grelmor Zeech, the Cleric of Rao. He has it in for Deryl, but luckily, she and Bella befriended the local wizard. Deryl is camped up in his tower, protected by an ... enthusiastic little Halfling named Lazlo and an army of cats. Oh, and Bella’s there, and she can be pretty protective too when no one else is looking. The whole damn town is surrounded by orcs. I fear the worst.
What’s left to say? The boys are with me at the Cliffwatch. The moon is a sliver in the sky. I wonder what Briannah is doing? I can’t believe she gave me her father’s ... wait – there is the sound of conflict outside.
A rare journal from Deryl Androsax...
….written just after a rather bizarre dinner with Nimorzan
Dear Diary,
I had the same dream last night...the one with the pale, eyeless face crying tears of blood…I think it is trying to speak with me. I kept trying to ‘lean in’ closer to hear what it had to say, but then I realized that its lips are stitched together. I refer to it only because I can’t determine if it is male or female. I tried to interact, but like last time, the face faded away and I was left dreaming of my dagger.
I can’t put my finger on why exactly, but with this dagger I feel more complete somehow, and in other ways not completely myself. Take today for example…now I’ve never had much respect for the Church of Rao, or her clergy…but today’s display with the priest en route was definitely out of character. The words came so quickly, but it was like someone was prompting me…and while I’m not exactly apologetic I am a little…surprised. No longer am I hiding behind my brother; saying this I realize something. I have changed. I am no longer looking to reclaim the proud Androsax family history and re-establish the family name; I am becoming my own person, and I will establish my own name. It’s just as well, as Derren is more likely to become a garden statuary long before the Androsax’s name is restored.
Magic flows more easily through me these days too, and this is definitely a result of the dagger. I can feel the magic thrum within my body just by holding the dagger…before I was always a little fearful of my talent…now? I crave more…like a man in the desert craves water.
I’m not sure how much help Nimorzan will be, but he does have an exciting Library. Offering to help him learn how to read seems like a fair enough exchange, simply allowing me access to his books. Experience seems to be the best teacher anyway. I see now why my brother enters into melee with such merry abandon. There is this rush of adrenaline, and then the magic takes over…and it is like everything slows down and you’re watching the battlefield with a bird’s eye view, taking it all in, each sword thrust, each bow shot, each battle cry…and then magic explodes from you! And it is…awesome!
The next thing you know is you are almost spent, drained, but tingling with the residuals of battle magics, surrounded by swamp goblins or troll flesh. And you just know, the magic did that…I did that!
Well, it’s early to bed tonight. The first reading lesson has tapped the last of my reserves and I’m tired from the journey.
Bella's journal from Session #12.
Session 12 – Thief of Shadows
I seem to have been infected with the foolishness of an Androsax!! The Thief of Shadows came close to taking me today and all because of my bloodlust. It makes me wonder if I shouldn’t tell my companions of my true nature. We are growing in power and if we do not have the ability now we will soon be able to even call back the dead. What would they think if I were to fall and revert back to my true form? Would they even bring me back? If my identity were compromised like that…would I want them to? It is much to think about, but I will leave it for another time.
A relatively small orc raiding party made an assault on the city and awoke Deryl and I from our slumber. We had separated from the party and were staying at Master Nimorzan’s Tower. We hurriedly…well I hurriedly, prepared for battle (Deryl not needing armor or anything didn’t have to) and we rushed out to cut a dangerous path across the city to the inn where our companions were staying.
To my surprise and alarm I realized that I partially understood the warcries of the orcs. It was not only them, I find that the strange tongue that the humans use and the Draconic used in many arcane texts is also being translated by a whisper in my mind that uses my own voice.
When we arrived, the inn was under siege, as was much of high town. I rushed to get a good vantage point on the raiding party and am ashamed to admit, semi-abandoned Deryl to her fate. Looking back I found her surrounded, I did my best to take down her foes but none of my bolts found their mark. I was relieved that, as I have come to expect, the girl could take care of herself. She dispatched her enemies with haste then with a desperate glance around, most likely looking for me, took to air and landed on the roof of the inn.
I spent the remainder of the fight running and taking shots when I could. I found Bjorn had fallen and could see that he was bleeding to death. Unfortunately a group of lowly foot soldiers ambushed me just as I was going to help him. I dealt with them quickly and rushed back to his side. I was just in time to administer a healing potion calling back my companion from the brink of death.
The orcs were using a Hill Giant to stop re-enforcements from climbing up the escarpment stairs from Lowtown. I put several bolts in the thing that caused it great pain and hampered its ability to move, though it was still quite competent at rock hurling. Darren was stupid enough to engage it melee, and suffered a couple of nasty blows from its great club. However, we eventually brought down our first giant with no casualties, and the dwarven mercenaries from Low Town were able to join us. We then learned that the temple of Thor was being burned down and Bjorn rushed off to their aid. We had no choice but to follow.
It was here where I acted rashly and it almost cost me my life. Deryl was able to get me onto the roof of the Church where I found I could pick and choose targets with little threat of retaliation. My mark was the standard bearer, if he fell the moral of the orcs would waver and perhaps they would retreat. After I had harried him with many bolts he retreated from my gaze into the church. I was enraged and could only think of my reputation: No one escapes me. With that thought in mind I leapt off the roof landing gracefully on the ground and letting loose the killing bolt into the standard bearer’s head.
Unfortunately, I did not have much time to celebrate my victory. Enraged by my success the orc chieftain charged from the doorway, and I suffered the full force of his wrath. The last thing I witnessed before letting the darkness take me was his spiked shield slamming into my face dropping me to the ground, and his cry of triumph at taking his revenge. Fortunately, Bjorn was able to get to me and I awoke to find his concerned face looking down on me.
In the time I was incapacitated the battlefield had altered drastically. An iron dragon had joined our fight against the orcs and was engaged in full battle with my assailant. Their standard bearer dead, their leader surrounded and facing a dragon, the orcs moral finally broke. They scattered and abandoned their chieftain to his fate. The chieftain fought to the last, but being outnumbered it was a futile effort and it did not take long before he fell.
The Iron Dragon has landed a little ways off and seems to seek an audience. It is not wise to be involved in the affairs of a dragon, but we have little choice in the matter. Hopefully, whatever it has to say will bode well for us.
Dear Diary,
I had no time for dreams last night; the city was roused by orc attack and reality quickly turned into a nightmare. I admit that I am bone tired but all things considered I am mostly unscathed from the night’s misadventures. There are many wounded and many more dead but the city defenses hold for now…if rumours be true all this is the result of but one orc clan.
What will we do with the hundreds gathering yet?
I am concerned for Derren; his mind really wasn’t in the battle and he came closer to death than I care to think about. He is paler now than Mama’s best linens; mooning over that librarian I suppose. She’ll mourn him little, I expect, should he get himself killed here in Fallcrest.
I admit a bit of distraction too; I was tremendously curious to see ‘the wizard’ in action but we were too quickly pulled into the thick of things.
The orcs have aligned with the trolls and hill giants; what the forces lack in intelligence they make up for in brute force. I’m convinced though that there is a fourth faction somewhere spearheading these attacks. The initial troll attack, swimming in to penetrate deeper into high-town, was tactically sound and quiet unexpected.
Bella and I made our way back to the Inn but soon found ourselves just outside the periphery of a larger orc force bolstered by one of the hill giants. I immediately thought to get Bella and I onto the roof of the Inn; offering us a better vantage point. She was fleeter of foot than I thought; we were separated and set upon by orcs. So caught up in the battle scene around us we were completely unaware that our three companions were already in the thick of things around front; they facing off against more orcs and a troll.
I don’t have the same battle lust as Derren or Bjorn but thanks to my magic I’ve so far been able to hold my own. I admit that last night I lost track of the number of orcs we felled, so great were their numbers.
Still it wasn’t long before the battle momentum brought us together to face of against the hill giant. By this time I had made it to the roof. The scene below was not a pretty one. Bella and Bjorn were down at different times and Torfin was hard pressed. Still we managed to regain our footing and coordinate to fell the beast and the last of the orcs.
This was but one of many battles though. The cityscape was choked with smoke and the air was thick with the smell of burnt wood and flesh.
We had little time to rest; the orc Standard was in full sight just north of our location. We hazarded its location to be near Thor’s Temple. Indeed the street corridor around the temple was congested with orcs and the temple had already been penetrated by enemy forces. By the time we arrived, the Dwarven forces had joined the fray, and at Bjorn’s command we were able to focus on the temple.
The orcs here were in full battle frenzy, and stronger for it. I again took to the roof with Bella. Things were unfolding well until Bella took to mind that she would fell the banner carrier; a good idea and flawless execution. However, it enraged the orc chieftan, hidden from view in the temple itself. Bella is brilliant with a bow, but she fell quickly to the Chief’s furious onslaught of attacks.
Bjorn and Derren were by this time surrounded by beserkers; Derren seemed to be in bad shape; he was terribly unfocused and his sword arm was sluggish. I feared the worst when I lost sight of him as he fell to a swarm of attacks. Torfin too, was having difficulty and eventually began a fighting retreat.
We were slower to regain our footing but fortunately the gods were with us; quite literally. Our meager force was bolstered by the appearance of an iron dragon who squared off against the orc chief. Let me tell you, that chief dished out a lot of hurt to that dragon, but ultimately fell against superior force.
I’m in awe of the dragon and hope we can encounter it again, if only to say ‘thank you’. Our more immediate attention went to reviving our fallen comrades. We separated again to scout out the city’s security.
And here I am, exhausted…Bella is already snoring.
A journal from Bella regarding game session #13.
The meeting with the iron dragon went well, but had nothing to do with us. She had been forced out of her home by a rival red dragon named Rathnir, and was now using a nearby silver mine for her lair. She was making a deal with Fallcrest for tribute and protection. Seeing as they were besieged by orc tribes Lord Malkahay had little choice but to accept and was lucky the dragon offered such a fair deal.
One dragon alone could not defeat the massive hoard outside, that apparently was our job.
Their plan was stupid and would only get me killed.
Let me break it down. My companions expected to sneak into the camp of thousands of Orcs, stealth (seriously, they expected to be stealthy) their way to the chieftain’s longhouse, kill the leader of the Blood Spear tribe (the one who had gathered this massive force), and then tip toe out with no one being the wiser.
This was their plan as presented to Lord Malkahay, and they told him that we would discuss it. My recent brush with death weighing heavily on my mind and seeing the suicide mission before me, I felt I had little choice. I revealed myself to my companions. Most had not even heard of changelings, my race merely a rumour. I showed them what I was capable of, becoming a female orc before their eyes, my top stretching against the added girth. They accepted the revelation faster than expected. My only concern is Derren. Deryl and Bjorn are sensible and Torfinn is silent as a grave. If the Androsax lordling reveals my secret to anyone I will have to kill him.
My magical mark appears to be more of a boon then a bane. I awoke this morning fluent in several languages, including the rough language of the orcs. I also was struck with an epiphany and suddenly the rituals in Flagg’s book made complete sense to me. Any time I alter shape it remains on my back, marking me, a curse to any changeling but it may be worth the price. The mark may have figured heavily in my decision to reveal myself.
My ability to alter shape has always been rather useless without being able to prepare ahead of time, something that is lacking in our little group. My body is the only thing I can alter and without the clothes of my twin I would be easily spotted as a fake. I also do not receive any special abilities of the race that I impersonate; the orcs’ darkvision would be a prime example. One of the largest problems though is in communication. I have never had a command of languages and being a mute of any race only draws attention. Finally, I could start using my shape changing as a more potent tool.
It is said that there was a dwarven Lord General that had magical chainmail forged for him that could become any set of clothing he wished. It would have been useful for me, but I can only wear leather armor with confidence. Apparently, only a heavy metal can sustain the magical lattice necessary for sub-structural change. Smokingbeard, my dwarven forgemaster back in Grimsburg, described the process to me in excrutiating detail long ago. Unfortunately, my powers were in their infancy, and I was not able to grasp the basic principles. Now looking back upon my notes I understand, and given my own innate understanding of morphic fields when applied to living matter, I just may be able to apply the magic to my own leather armor. It is a project I intend to dedicate myself to in earnest this coming month.
I acquired the stinking armor off the corpse of an orc and assumed his shape. My own companions disguises were basic, but given the orcs reputation for laziness they would all be focused on me and therefore allow us to pass. Our plan was simple. Bluff our way into the command center as members of the Roteye tribe that had raided the city, once we had gained an audience with the commander, lock the door behind us and attack.
Approaching the gate to the palisade, I appeared more confident then I felt. We were surrounded by thousands of orcs, if anything went wrong we were dead. The guards at the gate questioned us. We had Deryl in a sack, and I showed her to them saying that she was a tribute for the chief. My acting was not at its best, but after a few jabs from the orcs at the failure of the Roteyes we were allowed an audience. Fortunately, Thor had blessed us with a great storm, and they didn’t have much interest from the shelter of the eaves to give us a close inspection.
We were led by a single orc to a longhouse in the center of steading where inside the sound of guttural laughter and merry making issued. When I crested the threshold my eyes watered, and I had to choke back the bile that rose in my throat, the smell of unwashed bodies was unbearable. I disguised my disgust and shock at seeing the leader of the orc army, sitting back in his throne, his pants down and some orcish whore’s mouth busily working away on him right in front of his followers.
Upon seeing us, he waved the women away and covered his “zug, zug” with his quilt, much to my relief. He demanded to see my tribute, and I was only too glad to show him, eager to finish this one way or another. I waved Bjorn forward, and he placed Deryl upon the table and removed the sack.
That was the signal. With a wave of her hand the sorceress and I were whisked up into the air and among the rafters. I unleashed a bolt from my crossbow at the commander. I aimed my bolt carefully to ensure that I would no longer have to suffer any more carnal displays. He howled in pain and rage just as Torfinn was able to place the bar upon the door and lock us in.
It was a hard fight, but that is only to be expected as we were trapped in there with some of the army’s greatest warriors. At one point one of them managed to catch me with a wine cask and knocked me from my perch. I scrambled across the floor, orcs pressing in on me, their cruel blades digging into my flesh. Every time I killed one another would take his place, but with desperate glances I could see their number was dwindling, we were going to win. When I had one last assailant I ended up near Derren, who was able to pull him off of me. Looking past him, I could see that one orc had thought to try and open the door to bring in re-enforcements. Luckily, Deryl and I were able to execute him before he was able to execute his plan.
In the end we were victorious. The only problem left was getting out of there.
I quickly ran over to the orc chief and began stripping off his clothes. While I changed my companions searched the longhouse, using my bag of holding to take as many treasures as possible. When all was ready I threw open the doors to the long house and gathered the entire garrison around me, impersonating their leader. They were afraid of my wrath, and I screamed in outrage at the attempt upon my life by the Roteyes and commanded them to seek out the Roteyes and kill them all for this insult. A few questioned these orders but a single strike was enough to silence them and send them scurrying out into the camp.
All that was left was calling down our Iron Dragon ally to make a distraction and leave us alone to make our escape. We beheaded the orc chief and gave it to the dragon to drop among his army once we were far enough away.
And yet we did not escape.
Deryl had heard that prisoners were being held in one of the buildings somehow and wished to free them. I was sure that the little girl was going to doom us. Both Bjorn and Derren wanted to rescue the prisoners but could not see how we could do so without becoming prisoners ourselves, but Deryl had a plan.
We climbed the wall on the river side of the palisade that did not face the orc camp and used the ladders to provide an easy way to get out. While the rest of us made for the boat, both Derren and Deryl helped the prisoners across the river (forcing them to swim or use pieces of wood to float). They then set about making their way on foot back to Fallcrest. I left them to their fate, their altruism would get them killed one day.
When most of us were away, the dragon dropped his grisly war trophy. It had the affect we wished. The orcs turned on eachother, as the different factions and tribes attempted to assume command. By morning many of the orcs had abandoned the siege and those who remained were still fighting amongst themselves. It was easy for the militia of Fallcrest and the dwarves from Hammerfast to send them running.
Lord Malkahay was ecstatic; we were welcomed back as heroes. I did not join the festivities but instead I made my way to Master Nimorzan’s tower. Finally I believed I was ready to cast a ritual, I had much work to do though I lacked the resources.
A journal from Darren regarding events of game sessions 12 and 13
Dear Corvin,
Since I last wrote, we successfully defended Fallcrest form an orc raid, and then struck the viper in the eye, causing their planned invasion to fall apart.
The raid was brutal, and we were divided for a while. I managed to help take down my second troll, and must say I am developing quite a knack for it. Only this time, I knew better than to fight near its hungry maw – instead, I clung to its backside like an overgrown – and handsome, might I add – stirge. Eventually, our party drove the orcs and their giant and troll allies back to the gate. The night was ours!
We parlayed with Kasinth, the first dragon I have had the shock and awe to meet. She seemed calculating, intelligent and was sizing us up all the time. A little like Bella, come to think of it. And while she would kill me if she ever found out I told you, she has more in common with reptiles than just her personality. The girl possesses the abilities of a chameleon.
Anyway, the dragon has fled a more powerful red from the hills north, who in turn is cowed by the great white dragon Ullmir himself. I fear that the evil in the elemental temple of eyes and skulls is behind all this. I cannot wait to test my mettle against a dragon. “Wait”, Bjorn says. And I will listen, for now.
Deryl continues to grow in power at an alarming rate. Her dreams have worsened, and there is little I can do to stop it but pray: Rao, Thor, Odin – it matters not.
After the orc raid, we hatched a daring plan to assassinate their leader, a Bloodspear orc named Turash. Some scouting and Bella’s knack for deception brought us strait into his longhouse. We had to use Deryl as bait, but don’t worry, she was up in a safety of the rafters the moment the fighting began. Do I ever need to worry about Deryl? I think the world needs to worry about her. The fighting was a desperate, bloody mess, but in the end, I cut Turash’s throat and we claimed a spear so mighty that none of use dare to wield it. I may have to take up spear fighting, if only to plunge it down the throat of Rathnir, the red dragon over hill.
Now – for some poetry and dire warnings for Briannah!
Your devoted brother,
Derren
This is Deryl's much more esoteric version of the events that took place during session 13.
….the room is filled with swirling banks of steam and heavily scented with eucalyptus. Deryl languishes in the freshly drawn and heated bath…
“We’ll just wash that hair out, shall we, ma’amselle?” Cheori, one of the housekeeping staff, asks without really waiting for an answer. “Ah, but you’re so tense, you are!! I say again you shouldn’t be out there, its just not right, pardon me for saying so, ma’amselle.”
“It’s okay, Cheori, you’re not the first to tell me, but its not so bad… really.”
Deryl leans forward and lets Cheori begin shampooing her hair. Her body relaxes under the housekeeper’s ministrations but her mind is elsewhere…reliving the events of the night before. Staring into the bath water is like staring into the mystical depths of a scrying pool…
She can see herself running ahead of the contingent of prisoners, wet with rain and sweat, stinking of battle grime. It’s not Derren with her this time, but the ghostly form of the young man from her dreams, he is holding her hand and pacing her easily. He smiles at her, pulling tight the stitches keeping his mouth closed. His form disappears in the flash of a dragon’s wing and suddenly the iron wrymling settles before her.
He slashes at her, rending her with his claws…no, not her, but Bella. The image in the bath shifts and she is suddenly reliving the battle in the long house.
Bella, wearing her true form and not that of an orc, is cut down by one of the brutes. Even as she falls though she is fitting another bolt into her crossbow, ready to fight even unto death.
To her right, Bjorn lays in a pool of his own blood with the Blood Spear Chief menacing above him. His eyes stare lifelessly above him, but he is writing the line ‘Thor will not forsake me’ over and over in the blood, like a child under detention.
Four orcs, hands joined, dance around and around. Blood spills from them too and they revel in it. Derren is in the center crying out “Am I not a good enough dancer Brianna?” He is laughing and smiling as if unaware of his many wounds.
Torfin’s image enters the far corner of the pool’s image. “Shall we dance” he says and lightening jumps from his one hand to the next. Another four orcs accept his invitation and the five take up a bloody Tarantelle.
She sees herself, balanced on the rafter crying out in the arcane tongue. Her hand becomes sheathed in chaotic energy. It burns away the bloody scene below as if it were a storybook illustration…only to replace it with another.
Bella is below her now, a trail of orc bodies in her wake, pierced with bolts. Her form shifts settling on the form of Starke before anchoring back to that of an orc.
Bjorn lies still in a pool of blood, this time by the door. He raises his hammer to the sky and calls upon Thor. Suddenly he is standing, bathed in light and four orcs lay lifeless in front of him.
Derren twirls across the battlefield. “For honor, For Androsax” he cries striking the orc chieftan. The Blood Spear chief is barely moving now, with five of its six strings severed…a marionette only.
On the corpses of four bloodied orcs Torfin continues his bloody Tarantelle, but no lightning dances on his fingertips.
Deryl sees herself in the rafters, the nameless man is in front of her again, smiling. The stitches are gone this time, “Run,” he says.
And she is running, again, leading the prisoners back to Fallcrest…
“God’s above, ma’amselle, but how can you be shivering in such a hot both. Lean back now and relax. I’ll fetch some more hot water.”
And like that the image in the bath water disappears.
Torfinn’s Quiet Reflections (Part Three)
*Stargazing at Odin’s sacked temple in Fallcrest*
Why is it that I find such comfort in the night sky? That great darkness filled with a horde of distant treasures that none chained to this world can touch or defile gives me an overwhelming sense of….clarity. In-truth, I spent most of my time in Thorsted Monastery stargazing. It was peaceful at Thorsted, nestled in the plain-lands of Uppsala; I could lay in the thick grass for hours and gaze up at the rolling clouds to my heart‘s content.
Odd…I can almost hear the half-blind Rooster that woke me every morning by tapping his beak upon my window. I always found it ’troublesome’ that the devious beast chose to wake me a good hour before he began his crowing. Ahh yes, I would then walk to my favourite spot on top the rolling grass-land and lay amidst the morning dew. I wonder what I used to think about?… Perhaps nothing…
Often I wouldn’t budge until the aroma of breakfast wafted my way. Hmm…Although Lady Maja was a devotee of Freyja and bested many of the lads during martial training, she cooked a delicious porridge. Now that I think harder on the subject of Lady Maja, she would wink and give me an extra large serving when my turn in line arrived; I still don’t quite understand the ritual, but the lads behind would often smirk and snicker.
After breakfast I used to spend some of the afternoon hours in the library with Master Flojnir, the Prophet of Odin. It was easy for me to lose myself in the old parchment and tablets that lay about the dank chamber. I can still recall the earthy smell that rose up from the between the stacks; However….Master Flojnir was a ’strange’ old man wasn’t he…? He would constantly stare at me with an….all-knowing expression. I always wondered what secrets he really knew? He’d occasionally give me cryptic advice when he had the words to spare. I once overheard his pupils using the nickname “Devourer of Mysteries” behind his back, perhaps he thought I was a mystery to be devoured?….Interesting….
One could hardly have any peace during the daily melee. Shouts, hoots and jeers echoed across Thorsted followed by the thunder of practice weapons colliding mercilessly; it was an entertaining spectacle to say the least. Bjorn would try to drag me into combat on occasion, but I didn’t quite have the energy to keep up with the young enthusiastic lads. It’s a surreal sensation watching the fruits of Bjorn’s hard training pay off on the battlefield. The starry-eyed, adventurer seeking child has grown into a man. Perhaps not in physical appearance, but it isn’t hard to see the power he now exhibits.
I wonder why I think of Thorsted now…? Perhaps the shell of this former temple to Odin in Fallcrest is making me the sentimental fool.
Hmm…it’s more then a little unsettling to see with my own eyes just how much Bjorn, Darren, Deryl and Bella have grown. Some of them have become wiser, some stronger but they’ve all magnificently matured in their own way. Isn’t that a mortifying thought? The people that surround me change…yet I remain the same…I appeared in a vicious thunderstorm many years ago with no memories, or identity save the name ‘Torfinn‘. I didn’t train or go through the typical studies of a devotee; I simply knew things by instinct. Although my mind is still filled with an overwhelming darkness, I suppose there is hope in the fragments of knowledge I regain.
I wonder if that makes me as talented as people think me to be….or does that make me dreadfully boring? I wake up and remember ancient spells and languages that I’ve never even heard of before….I’d be frightened if I wasn’t so intrigued.
I guess one can hardly seem boring when they’ve unwillingly been dubbed ‘The Lightning-man’, who would’ve been able to predict that Orc berserker’s dying words would’ve caught on. It’s troublesome not to be able to move around town without a drunkard yelling, ‘Lightning-man’…..
Still, it’s nice to be distracted from darker thoughts…even if it’s for a brief moment…
A journal from Darren Androsax regarding the events of game session #14
Dear Corvin,
Life in the Vale is always an adventure. I write from the light of a cracked lantern under a tree – hopelessly drunk and a little defeated. I have been wandering around town for hours, following an exploration of the crypts below Kamroth’s manor and the strange happenings of the Equinox festival.
As you recall, our little sister is doing her best to be grown up. She found the deed to the Kamroth estate, and has been busy making house. She has great ideas about turning the place into an Inn & Tavern, but is refusing to let me get involved. Every time I try to do my part as her older brother, she flashes me with those cold dead eyes. She plays with that dagger she found in our estate in Grimsburg day and night. She sleeps in the sorcerer’s tower. She even parlayed with Kasinth the dragon on her own.
We found a secret room leading to an old crypt below the Kamroth estate – narrow, musty rooms filled with stone tombs centuries old. One room was dedicated to the worship of Asmodeus, something we suspected since finding Kamroth’s body. We discovered tapestries of our house, as well as the families Kalton, Dragonspear, Nethmar, Shandroth, Gauthmal, Valkrev and even the local lord Sheldon’s line. It looks like the Kamrtoh line took to worship Asmodeus some time in the last few decades – as most of the older tombs honoured the Skanzi gods. We even found a walled off section that we plan on exploring once we reconsecrate the grounds and unobtrusively dispose of the remaining corpses.
While exploring the crypts, we came across an imp named Tyrus, who mistook us for worshippers. I managed to draw some strange information from him before Torfinn blasted him with lightning. The imp claimed that St. Aurieluous Androsax himself once worshipped the Prince of Hell, as well as Crozin Androsax “and many others.” I find this hard to believe – but the more I see of Deryl’s power, the more I worry that our house is truly cursed. Did we really leave the Vale because of the Bloodspear war, as father claims – or were there more reasons, besides?
As the imp stole off behind a narrow passage, we were ambushed by Asmodean undead, risen from scattered tombs. Torfinn was caught by a foul thing’s blasts of hellfire, and Bella spent most of the fight trying to extinguish her robes. We were blessed in that dark place by Bjorn’s hammer, and his holiness shielded us. The man was furious, destroying what Asmodean stonecraft he could between blows meant for the red-robed wights. Torfinn called upon the Valkyries, who blessed us with pale blue light. I leapt between a score of them (dm note- it was more like 3 or 4 undead that he darted amongst), while Tyrus attempted to sting me repeatedly with his tale. Half believing his stories, I dreaded seeing the undead remnants of a forbearer, Corvin. In the end we felled the undead and cleansed the crypts. Unfortunately, the imp managed to escape. We will have to keep a close out out for him, as I'm sure he will seek vengeance.
And for all this, the strangest happenings occurred at the Equinox festival. We sat at Markelhay’s table along with Lord Sheldon and sundry others. Deryl and I managed to ensnare him in our attempts to draw out the Asmodeans in Fallcrest; Farin the cooper and Kelson the tavern owner being among our suspects (though they were not dining at Markelhay's table with us). Kasinth the dragon was in attendance, along with her kobold sycophants. All seemed more or less well until Sigurd Ironballs himself showed up: legendary giant slayer and the man who lost our Androsax sword to Ragnar in a drinking contest. The same man who now claimed to have defeated the very dragon in our midst! If keeping the two of them apart weren’t challenging enough for us, Torfinn began a strange transformation. Even Deryl was wincing in pain. Poor Torfinn was sheathed in ever-growing fire, while his countenance took on a reptilian cast. He quickly ran from the room, Bjorn and Bella in pursuit. Could it be true, what the Church of Rao says about magic? That it corrupts us with the spirit of the serpent? What of the prophecies, Loki’s dark presence and the end of all times? What made the priests of Thor so sure that Torfinn, the foundling in the storm was a son of Odin?
The golden skulls have nearly all been released upon the world. Rumbling can be felt to the south west, where the remains of the Temple of the Elemental Eye stand, and a dark presence lingers. Trolls are on the rise across the Haunt, east of Moonstair. Frost giants and an Ice dragon from the sagas are rumoured to be gathering far to the northwest. And a god walks among the people of Rao to the south. Perhaps there is more than one god who walks among us?
And here I am, excited about rumours from Sigurd that our lost manor can be found north where the Nentir meets the Winter. Sigurd bested me in a wrestling match, and for that, I lost my new bracers. Deryl won’t let me back home. The dogs lick at me, for I am besotted with mutton grease. I am a wretch, and the world will one day pass me by, dousing the weak flame of this all too mortal frame.
Your brother,
Derren
I tighten the final strap on my armor and walk up to the mirror eying it critically. Deryl sits on my bed idly playing with her dagger having asked me to help her study it and it’s unique properties. I agreed if only because it bears the mark on my back as well as the mark that has suddenly appeared on her wrist. For a moment I wonder if this is some kind of contagion among sorceress’, something carried by Deryl’s dagger but dismiss the thought, this is not the time for conjecture.
“Let’s see if this works”, I say more to myself than to her. Upon finding the components and residuum in Nimorzan’s study I had been elated. Before Deryl arrived I had spent the day meticulously copying the ritual from Flagg’s ritual book into my own, my first ritual incidentally. After that I had laid out my leather armor and began the process of applying the magical lattice to the material with a few modifications of my own. I felt a smug sense of satisfaction when the lattice held.
It was then I noticed the state I was in. So focused upon my work I had not looked in a mirror. Cobwebs caught in my hair, my body covered in dust, and my face and hands smeared with ink. I forced myself to take a bath before testing the new armor. It was during my bath that Lazlo loudly announced the arrival of Lady Androsax, I wonder if she had told him to call her that or if he had done it on his own.
Now we arrive at the moment of truth.
Concentrating I turn my armor into a stunning red dress. I make it backless to show off my mark and twirl in front of the mirror. I am pleased to hear Deryl gasp at the change. Quickly I change the dress to the clothes of a nobleman and my form to that of Deryl’s own brother. I stumble and make stupid faces in front of the mirror repeating some of Derren’s more famous attempts at diplomacy. In another moment I am a beggar with simple pant and tunic, then Bjorn in pious robes, Starke in his noble guise, a simple dwarven blacksmith and finally myself once again in my leather armor. I eye it critically then smile to Deryl.
“What do you think of my first creation little sister?”
Torfinn and Absalon
Torfinn’s eyes stayed locked on the over-cast sky above as he marched through the castle followed by Lord Markelhay’s short and chubby attendant, Brun. The ground was muddy and the air was thick with warning signs of an oncoming storm. Brun had tried to engage the silent man with idle pleasantries, but Torfinn didn’t have much to say other than the customary greeting.
“Here we are Master Torfinn” , Brun said nervously. “Lord Markelhay had wished to be present for your visit, but he’s been very busy since the Orc attacks. Our Lord thanks you for the generous banner commission and bids you the best of luck in your selection. Please this way.”
Torfinn felt a tinge of trepidation as the panicked screams thundered out from the stables. Slowly he made he made his way inside, peering anxiously at the horses that surrounded him. For some reason, animals feared him instinctively; it was an odd-phenomena. The sudden kick of a frightened burgundy hunter stole Torfinn from his thought. He quickly ducked and stepped back with an audible sigh. “I don’t get along well with animals as you can see..” he mumbled in-between heavy breaths.
Brun heard Torfinn say as much before, but this was a little more severe than he had expected. In truth, he never witnessed the animals so spooked, perhaps ‘The rumoured Lightning-man’ was more than just fancy talk. He didn’t want to think about the consequences of not finding Torfinn a steed, Markhelhay’s instructions were explicit. “Master Torfinn…?”
Torfinn continued to walk down the path that divided the roofed structure in two with horse pens on either side. Half of the pens at the back were vacant, save one. A black-shape stirred in the last pen, it didn’t seem to take on the frenzied wailing of the other beasts. It simply watched as the tall man approached with narrowed eyes.
Brun squealed in alarm, “Master Torfinn…!” but Torfinn was already stretching his arm out to the horse’s head.
“Master Torfinn…!!!” Brun screamed so loud his chubby cheeks wobbled.
Torfinn turned to look at Brun when a jolt of pain shot down his arm, he snapped his head back at the black-steed to see his fore-arm locked between it’s teeth. “Damned thing” he mumbled before saying a word of power that activated a static surge; it was only a little shock but it did the trick in getting his arm free.
The black horse stomped his hoof on the ground with a derisive snort. Eyeing the man with even more contempt.
Brun doubled over twice in apology, “I’m so sorry Master Torfinn!”
Torfinn shrugged, “I’ll take him.”
It was hard for Brun not to yelp in surprise, “WHAT? That spiteful bastard!!!?”
Torfinn smiled while eyeing the creature, “Aye, I can work with spite.”
A song written by Deryl's player that is circulating the taverns of Fallcrest in refrence to her brother Derren.
Beware the man o’ Androsax
Beware the man o’ Androsax,
Who’s agile ankled and deft o’ sword.
Hist’ry made of him a lord?
Oh beware the man o’ Androsax.
Beware the man o’ Androsax,
Who’s sharp of tongue but dull of wit,
But lately weaned from mother’s tit.
Oh beware the man o’ Androsax.
Beware the man o’ Androsax,
Tho’ stout of heart, tho’ strong and hale.
The poor man can no’ hold his ale.
So beware the man o’ Androsax
Beware the man o’ Androsax,
Who’s beastial-bent perverts the night.
He’s seeded maids and trolls alike.
So beware the man o’ Androsax.
Beware the man o’ Androsax,
Who’s plundered orcs and shown no fear,
Just, it’s said, to bloody his spear.
So beware the man o’ Androsax
Beware the man o’ Androsax,
Who wrestles all be-lathered in grease
Wanton of his opponent’s ‘creese’.
So beware the man of Androsax.
Beware the man o’ Androsax,
Who acts the fool and thinks it brave,
He’s sure to find an early grave.
So beware the man o’ Androsax.
This is a lengthy journal from Derren Androsax detailing the events of our most recent session.
The PCs:
Derren: level 7 human male fighter
Bjorn: level 7 human male cleric of Thor
Bella: level 7 changeling rogue/sorcerer
Deryl: level 6 human female sorcerer (wild magic)
Torfinn: level 6 deva male Invoker
Dear Corvin,
This morning, Bjorn and I finally cracked open the wall leading to deeper caverns below Kamroth manor. We set out to explore several large caverns, haunted by wheels of the dead, suspended like the windmills and scarecrows of some forgotten tribe of primitives. Fortunately, these dead were resting peacefully, which seems all too often not to be the case in this world.
We finally came across a chamber rife with pools of black “water” – the same foul, putrescent flow of evil that we first witnessed outside of the Temple of the Elemental Eye deep in the Ogrefist Hills. It had cracked the walls from some unknown source, surrounding a stone dais in the center of the room like a moat. The dais itself was laden with a heaping mound of skulls. Yet before we could investigate or form a solid plan, ghoulish creatures were upon us. Some rose up from the apparently shallow pools dripping with the foul black liquid. They began hurling ichorous, necrotic filth from the pools. Others loped towards us in their deranged shuffling gate. As Torfinn blasted them with lightning and Bella dropped one with her bolt, I leapt onto the dais to occupy several of the ghouls. Bjorn and Torfinn called on the Skanzi gods to drive them back, while Deryl managed to keep several ambushers at bay with her spells. I nearly died when one of them slivered me with its filthy nails. The gash turned grey on my skin, and in a wash of chill and nausea, I darkened. Then my friends – forgiving me my brashness, I think – hurled spell and bolt upon my enemies, and I managed to recover my senses and roll away. By this time my allies had vastly thinned out the ranks of our enemies, and it didn’t take long to slay the remaining horrors. When the battle ended I realized that I wasn’t the only one who had suffered. Even Deryl, who normally does a good job of staying out of harm’s way, had been scathed by the undead. We took some time to rest, and Bjorn used his divine healing powers to help us tend our wounds.
With the undead dispatched, we began a more thorough investigation of the cave. Each of the skulls that had been sitting on the dais had a glyph etched into its forehead. According to Deryl there was no magic in the skulls, so I started handling them. Many had the symbol of the elemental eye, but we discovered a number of skulls with other strange symbols: a barbed spiral, and several inverted letters. While I was examining the skulls, I noted that there was a stone trap door set into the dais. We moved the skulls out of the way to fully reveal the portal, and we discovered it was circular, constructed of stone and some ten feet in diameter. It would take great strength to move, but I was confident that I could do it with Bjorn’s aid. However, we decided to post pone this endeavour, for there was still more to investigate above.
At the far end of the room was a ten foot wide passage that had clearly been carved into the wall of the otherwise natural cavern. Set in small alcoves above the tunnel’s entrance, were three more golden skulls – of animals this time. However, unlike the other golden skulls we’d discovered in our previous adventures, these one’s were not magical. The hallway was quite long, and its walls were etched with dozens of glyphs, similar to the ones that we’d encountered on the skulls, but there were others as well, all unholy. The end of the hall opened up into another chamber that the light from our sunrods could only just begin to illuminate. The symbols in the hall made me more than a little uneasy. They were clearly blasphemous. Still, Bjorn and I pressed forward. We didn’t make it far before the glyphs began to glow. One of them erupted in a blast of fire, but Bjorn’s shield Flamedrinker protected the two of us from much of the flame. I retreated back to my companions, while Bjorn remained behind; I presume he wanted to see if he could determine a means of dealing with the glyphs. I watched as more of them activated. Bella and Deryl were also watching closely. They had quickly determined that there were six different types of glyphs and each one had a different effect. Lightning, acid and fire were all seen hurled at Bjorn, but he was alert now, and did his best to dodge the effects, using his shield whenever possible to deflect the attacks. Torfinn and I decided to make a run for the far room, and we bolted down the hallway. Another glyph assaulted me, and Torfinn was scorched by acid, but we made it to the far chamber. Bjorn hurried after us, leaving Bella and Deryl to stand at the entrance of the hall and watch us.
The three of us had entered into a secluded chamber. Dominating much of the floor space was some huge vaguely manlike form that was completely cocooned in the black ichor, which had here hardened into solid form. The source of the ichor appeared to be several dark stones that sat on the ground forming a circle around the unsettling form. Each of the stones had a single rune inscribed on it, and it was either the elemental eye or the barbed spiral. A part of me very much wanted to pick up one of the stones, but even I could sense that they thrummed with magic, and it appeared that they were part of some ancient ritual. Bjorn suspected that their purpose might be to bind whatever entity might be lurking under the hardened ichor.
The chamber itself was constructed in the shape great silo, and its walls were riddled with burial nooks that held dozens of ancient skeletal corpses. We had little time to take all this in before we discovered that this crypt was haunted by vile wraiths. They came at flying at us, trying to drain us of our life force. Each attack would cause me to feel so weak I could barely stand or swing my sword. I was thankful that my blade was enchanted, but it was still relatively ineffectual, for it would just pass through the vile creatures, causing them minimal real harm. There were five wraiths in total, and two of them were different from the other three. These two were constantly gibbering maddening whispers that burned at my mind and threatened to make me go mad. With lures and feints and more divine power, Torfinn and Bjorn were able to cast the wraiths back into hell. Bella and Deryl stayed back blasting them from a distance, and even I was able to meekly cut through their forms from time to time. Soon our foes had been destroyed thanks in no small part to the radiant powers that Torfinn and Bjorn had been able to muster.
We debated about what to do about the entity on the floor– and wisely, I think, thought to leave it undisturbed and possibly return in the future if we could gather more information. There is still the deeper chamber, and strange evidence of the work of elemental creatures, titans and their primordial masters – but we have yet to fully explore the deeper levels.
These events leave me riddled with questions and strange desires. The most pressing mystery is that of Torfinn. While Bella wants to run shop, and Deryl play house, our friend with the golden skin seems tied to the fate of the world. Bjorn is content to smash evil and infidelity with his hammer wherever, whenever, yet his charge is full of stranger destinies. Blackness pollutes the land. An ancient god tied to the elemental chaos, the abyss and the purest evil seems to be stirring up the primordials and their servants. Like a cascade of fell fury, primordials push titans to stir dragons to whip orcs upon our heels. Gods walk the earth and slink their blades in the fates of men. Rao sings to me, yet my heart is with the Skanzi gods. Asmodeans run amuck even as far as Fallcrest, and the man who would rule the vale must sleep in the pig pen for some unremembered folly on the battlefield.
These are interesting times.
Your brother,
Derren
Derren's player was away for our most recent session, so we had Derren take a trip to Grimsburg to go pay a visit to his beaux Briannah Sutursdottr (High Archavist of Skaldsholme library). This is his journal.
Dear Deryl,
Hope you are well. Mother and father are in good health, and the gold and enchanted armour I brought back from the Vale have eased our debts. Yargo seemed especially pleased with the hide, and I hope the gold reaches Strake soon enough.
Mother was upset that you were left behind in the vale, but I concocted some tale about Bella being a former chaperon to one of the Sturgleson daughters, and she seemed relieved. Corvin remembered Bella’s attitude and concluded that you were in good, if somewhat stern, measured and staid hands!
I am writing to request that you allow myself and an acquaintance a room in the new Inn. Somewhere out of sight that she can conduct more shadowy research. I think you can imagine who I mean. Things have gotten dangerous for her in Grimsburg, as she has stumbled upon some important research concerning the Elemental Eye.
Let me know if a room could be drawn. I am happy to pay for it, and understand if you would rather me spend another night in the barn.
Your brother,
Derren
From A Brief and Annotated History of Grimsburg and Environs, by Geron the Prodifigent, 877
... and while Derren was not to be instrumental in preventing calamity to the same degree as his companions, it is argued by many sages that his work in Grimsburg, most notably the ‘Declaration & Proclamation’, was to give the future heroes an edge in preventing the great sundering of the North ... Had Derren been prevented from nailing his decree to the doors of Skaldsholme, the Scarlet Stone Academy and the Temples of Odin and Rao, not to mention spending a small fortune mailing it to various rulers in the South, who knows what could have happened?
To All Who Live Free,
Let it be known to scholars, priests and rulers of fair and noble heart that a great danger is upon us. One of the primordials of old is being stirred from its sleep. Gods and their followers must unite or face the fall of the world, the end times known locally as Ragnarak. I am no prophet or doomsayer, I seek no reknown or reward. I am a scion of a small house from out of Grimsburg, and in my travels across the Nentir Vale, my companions and I came upon derelict tombs with tyrants slumbering beneath a symbol: the flaming elemental eye.
Have you heard of the golden skulls? Do your history books speak of murders unleashing the beast? Come now – followers of Rao, learned Asmodeans, brave thralls of the Skanzi gods all – all of you know this! All the sages have heard tell these tales. Verify for yourselves the murders of Grimsburg. Listen to the sages of Skaldholme. And at last, send only your bravest and most pure of heart to the Androsax Manor, deep in the Nentir Vale. I will be waiting for you.
Of course you may also do nothing, as you may have done so many times before.
Derren Androsax
Some thoughts by Bjorn Thorskirk, from game session 16
Re-construction of the Temple continues, there have been both advances and set backs. Lord Markelhay has given us additional funding however several tradesmen were scared off by the events of the feast night, and Torfinn's explosion. Lady Markelhay came by with a new Paladin of Rao, a striking young woman, originally from Fallcrest, who had just returned from her training in the south. A shame that a true daughter of the north should embrace the southern gods so. She talked of greater cooperation between the churches, and I hope it may be so, but I fear the centuries of conflict will not be easily overcome. I do see the need as the north teams with those who oppose the good of both pantheons. We have at heart much we could agree on. I suppose it is easier to despise the one who closely resembles you, yet rejects your beliefs, than the totally alien. For me the major sticking point is their stance on magic. Magic in and of itself is not evil it is the use to which it is put that determines that. A sword in the hands of a paladin or a psychopath is the same sword but whether it defends or destroys is up to the hand that wields it. Should evil practitioners be rooted out? Certainly! However proficiency in magic does not make one automatically evil.
The Altar in the Temple has been restored and we used it to gain some guidance on the entity trapped beneath the city. Asking if we should free it, we received a "no". Asking in what direction we should quest to aid Trofinn we were directed "up". It seems more research is required, but we now have a little more information from which to go. The ancient structures below the city are associated with the flaming eye cult. Darren has returned to Grimsburg, to do some research and pay off debts to Starke, though I suspect all he really wishes to research is what's is beneath Brianna's skirts. Torfinn has acquired a new mount, and an ill tempered beast it is, I guess hanging around me he has got used to the type.
Deryl approached us earlier apparently the Asmodean's are planing a ritual for the night and it will be a good chance to root them out. One of the serving girls approached Deryl, informing her of the ceremony saying she was afraid. I am not entirely trusting of her and suggested we set some guards to “protect” her while we followed the cultists. Bella would take on the girl's form and lead us to them through the use of her familiar.
We had a general idea of where the ceremony would take place in the catacombs beneath the city but as the network is fairly extensive we were not sure exactly where. Deryl, Torfinn and I headed out to find a place to hide a little ways in from the entrance. It was as well we did, for it was a trap, and we arrived before it was set, and as a result were able to ambush the ambushers. It was close fought, and I admit I missed Darren in the combat. It is not good to be the only melee combatant. To our surprise we learned that one of the two serving girls working for Deryl had been replaced by a Changeling, but Bella handily slew her in the catacombs with her crossbow. Many of the movers and shakers of Fallcrest had been members of the cult. When we done they were no more.
We reported our findings and turned Gwen, the treacherous serving girl, over to Lord Markelhay for execution. Lord Markelhay was shocked at the depth of the cult, but having rooted it out he was able to legally seize their assets. A double win for him, a dangerous element eliminated and gains for the “town”. For our efforts, we were suitably rewarded and the townsfolk got the spectical of a public execution. It should also help our standing in the town and with good fortune increase the Skanzi Gods following.
Session 16: Ambush (from Bella's journals)
I am a little concerned about how recent events will affect my standing with the party. It has been a long time since I have met another of my kind and I must admit that most such encounters are unpleasant. Our ability to assume the form of any humanoid and mimic them turns many of us to evil. It is too easy to achieve wealth and standing by assuming the form of someone that has what we need. When we are inevitably discovered it is usually a simple matter to acquire a new identity and slip away. It is an unfortunate reality that most of the members of my race are evil. Those that know we exist harbor a natural prejudice towards us, hence why we keep our true natures secret.
My day started with a summons from the Lady Androsax upon discovering Asmodean cultists among her staff. She found this out when one of them, Gwen, confessed and told her that she had been forced into the cult during her time as a servant to Lord Kamroth, she insisted that she had never really followed them. The maid saw within us a chance at escape her situation by removing the cultists that remained in Fallcrest. Not a single one of us bought the story (Derren wasn’t there having returned to Grimsburg).
The maid suggested that we follow her and the other servant Cheri, who according to Gwen, was a true follower of the cult to the next meeting so that we might ambush them. None of us trusted her, and we also felt that her plan was a foolhardy one, we quickly came up with one of our own.
I sat with Gwen and learned all I needed to know to assume her identity. In the meantime, since we knew the basic location from Gwen (which was some of the caves in the escarpment between high and low town), Bjorn, Torfinn and Deryl made their way to the caves early. We kept Gwen separated from Cheri and under guard. The girl whined, but she was ignored. Cheri remained in her room all day, saying she was sick. We found this curious, but were too busy with our own plans to investigate. Besides this voluntary solitary confinement worked to our advantage.
After dark, when the time came to leave, I went to Cheri’s room in the guise of Gwen and found a “miraculously” healed and well Cheri. She took the lead and we stealthily made our way to the caves. I almost slipped when Cheri revealed herself to be a changeling almost with her first breath. As soon as we had left the manor she told me that she had taken care of Cheri and left her corpse in the room. She then asked me if the heroes had bought my story.
It turns out that the real Cheri was not one of the cult, and this doppelganger had assumed her identity. It appeared that Gwen was the true cultist; which came as no surprise. Their plan was simple. Lead us to the caves where an ambush would be waiting, and then use their superior numbers and the element of surprise to overpower us.
At first I was not sure how this new information would affect our plan, so I played my role. Upon entering the caves I could hear the sounds of battle. A trio of Halflings, who were presumably members of the cult had stumbled across the place where Torfinn, Bjorn and Deryl had be hiding. Bjorn had led an attack and the fight had just begun. I quietly removed my weapon from my bag of holding and shot at the rather surprised doppelganger. Unfortunately, she turned on me and after the attack and disappeared from my sight.
I stepped back and allowed the shadows to envelop and protect me. The sounds of battle had alerted the more of the cultists to our presence. These ones had been setting up some kind of net trap for us deeper in the caves, and instead of sticking with their plan, they came running to investigate. They were surprised to see that we had discovered their treachery, and I was able to pick and choose between several easy targets and remove them one by one. The fighting was short but fierce. Bjorn had to assume the role of the front line defender, and he took several nasty blows. Fortunately, though the cultists were many in number, they were not well trained or equipped. It wasn’t long before all the cultists were dead, including the imp that had been a concern of Deryl’s. We did not risk searching the remainder of their lair.
Upon returning we reported our findings to Lord Markalhay, needless to say he was grateful and took our recommendation of making an example of Gwen to the remaining cultists. Her execution was a spectacle, a simultaneous stoning and burning, suggested by Torfinn. It was a decidedly evil suggestion…I will have to watch him more closely.
Session 17: Dungeons and Dragons
Dear Victor,
I have started settling in with Androsax’s group in Fallcrest. After taking care of a siege involving tribes of orcs we have become local heroes and earned this cities trust. Having befriended the local wizard I am now studying the intricacies of ritual casting. It has been given me easy access to arcane resources and soon, I will be able to return to Grimmsburg at will.
Firstly, you will want to know that we have no new leads on Torfinn. We cast a Hand of Fate ritual but will need to think better on our questions. We asked in what direction to quest in order to help Torfinn and we were told…Up. These rituals are so frustratingly vague. As there are many other things that need our attention, it was decided to search for answers at another time after we have more information. Both Torfinn and Bjorn stay in the temple that was ruined in the battle against the orcs. They are rebuilding it and both are working towards reviving the power of the Aesir gods in the North.
As I have told you before, a Dragon now resides in Fallcrest, Kasanth. Forced out of her lair by a Red dragon who had been disposed by a White dragon who is rising to the power of a god. My companions are eager to rise to a sufficient level to take on this threat. I do not share their altruism or their obvious insanity, for now our arrangement is lucrative for me, so I remain with them.
Kasanth has a problem with her Kobold slaves, they are disappearing from deep within the silver mines she resides in. She asked us to discover the problem’s source and take care of it. It is obvious that the dragon will become the true power in Fallcrest and since everyone is making this town their home having its dragon protector owe us a favour is a rare opportunity.
I will write again once we have returned.
Bella
Dear Corvin,
The torchlight flickers off the stone flues of the grey halls we are camped in for the night. We travelled northwest of Fallcrest at the request of Kasinth the iron dragon- to aid her kobold minions with some mysterious threat below their middling silver mine. The evening with the little s$*@scales was pleasant enough – I even got to recline on one of them for a while. Their “king” had a golden-skull as part of his “royal regalia”, and I am beginning to suspect these icons of the end times have been in circulation for eons, imitated and copied by the primitive folk who have fallen from the heights of some doomed progenitor civilization. Fortunately, the skull was inert, and it was not necessary for us to take action against the little creatures.
The kobold king pointed us to the depths, and our tiny guides lead us on a trail of white furred beasts that had been slaughtering and capturing their miners. They were camped like savages in a deep dwarven enclosure, a barbican of sorts– its entrance set with glyphs of the elemental eye.
Our first struggle was with these primitive, relentless white-furred bear folk, whose women dropped stones on us from murder holes above us, while the savage males battered us with clubs and stone axes. They were accompanied by big, nasty spiders with poison fangs, capable of leaping great distances The sharp eyes of Deryl pointed out some more of their flanking, loping companions that I was able to hold off as the rest of the party levied bolt, lightning, spell and hammer at our foes. Our battle was hard fought, but eventually the rank beasts were dead at our feet, along with their arachnid companions. We left the womenfolk disabled and pressed through a large set of double doors that led us deeper into the complex.
The first room we found presented three parallel passage-ways set in the far wall, each suggestive of traps. Bella managed to convince us that in her delicate position, it would be unwise for her to scout ahead. We wondered at this, and as the discussion wore on, and on, I decided to leap across a grate. To the cackling pleasures of the dark engineer of the foul place, the floor of the hall began to pivot and I was deposited in a citric pit – but not before spying the hulking forms of undead and a strange statue of a ocular, tentacled worm in a spacious room that the hall opened into. My friends magicked me out of the trap, but not before I had felt the agonizing pain of its acids.
Having discerned the nature of the trapped hall, Deryl managed to use the pivot to our advantage. She used her magic to lure one of the undead hulks in the far chamber onto the deadly side of the see-saw. The floor promptly tilted, depositing the ogre sized undead into the acid pit below. We fought our way into the room, slaying another undead hulk and a horde of ancient skeletons that stepped out of upright sarcophagi lining the side walls of the chamber. Yet while we were in the heat of battle, more misfortune struck, and the statue began to emit a poisonous fumes. Its toxic gases burned at our lungs before we managed to exit out of another glyph trapped door.
I am now writing in the evening by lantern-light, unsure if we will survive this place. Huge stone blocks fell in front of the entranceway shortly after we entered, sealing us in these deadly halls, and now finding a way out is our foremost priority. This place seems to have no purpose other than to serve as some sort of malicious death trap, though there is little evidence to show there have been many unfortunate enough to find themselves trapped in this hell. As for its maker, I suspect a creature of equal parts genius and depravity, one whose spirit even now laughs at us for our folly of pursuing a quest to rid the world of golden skulls, elemental eyes, and the myriad enthusiasts of Ragnarak.
Your Brother,
Derren
I hope to have some journals from our most recent session- session #18 coming up soon. I am pleased to announce that session #18 features our first and long, long overdue PC fatality.
Speculation as to which PC was the unfortunate victim of the dungeon is welcome.
This is a journal from Bjorn Thorskirk. It takes place just before the heroes leave to go help Kisanth the Iron dragon and get trapped in the Halls of Ludvag the Hateful.
Bjorn 17
A most interesting and illuminating evening- Bella asked me to join her for dinner at a local inn, she asked me to come alone as there were some things she wished to discuss. She recommended an inn, one of the better ones in town, and we agreed on a time. Given recent developments, I was not sure what to expect and as construction on the temple has nearly been completed, I decided it would be a good time to move from the grounds. With that in mind I went early to the inn to secure a room, it would also allow me to check out the surroundings before our meeting. The inn is actually quite comfortable, the bedding recently changed, and the fellow guests looked to be skilled craftspeople. With the orc siege broken and the rebuilding going on there has been an influx of highly skilled masters and their apprentices. This inn obviously catered to the Craft Masters.
As I was a little early, after settling into my room, I decided to head down to the dining area. This inn had both a common room and an area for dining, an unusual feature for the inns in town; I can see why Bella recommended it. The cellar was surprisingly well stocked given the recent events in town- not as extensive as it might otherwise been but a good selection none the less. I ordered a drink and waited for Bella to arrive.
I was glad I had arrived early as we might not have get a table otherwise. The proprietor had earlier informed me they did not take reservations, as why turn away ready coin in favour of coin that may or may not turn up. The fact that the dining room was busy spoke well of the fare we were to enjoy this evening. The night's menu was a choice of either mutton stew or roast boar served with winter apples, spring greens, and fresh bread.
Bella arrived shortly after my drink. The room was busy, but not an eye did not follow her progress through it. I saw more than one fellow get a kick under the table from the woman he was with. After Bella was seated the conversation in the room picked up again, and the serving girl approached the table and took Bella's drink order. Bella's order arrived quickly and we placed our dinner order. Both of us decided on the Boar.
Our conversation started with our companions. We talked initially about the Androsax siblings. I stated that I was uncomfortable travelling with such a young girl into the situations that we often found ourselves, and if Derren was ever not with us she would have to be returned to her family. It was kind of Derren to humour his sister in the ownership of the house in town, but the fact remained, she was still a child regardless of how powerful she was. Bella was resistant to this notion, not that she disputed that Deryl was a child, but apparently there was a link between them. This was when Bella showed me that “dragon mark” that she said she shared with Deryl. It was this mark they shared that made Bella reluctant to part ways. I indicated I understood but stated that if, the Gods forbid, anything should happen to Darren she would have to be returned to her family. However, I did concede that if Bella became Deryl's guardian things would be different. Bella however would have to get her parents agreement.
At this point our meal arrived and conversation stopped as we enjoyed the meal, which was very good.
After the trenchers were cleared and we enjoyed an after dinner drink, our conversation returned to our companions. Bella felt that I was crazy to be staying so close to Torfinn after what happened the night of the banquet. I pointed out that Torfinn is one of my most trusted companions and what sort of friend would I be to abandon him in his time of need. Besides he had some brief warning before he burst into flame, and if, a big if, it happened again I expected that we would have warning again, and again Torfinn would take appropriate steps. I did however want to help Torfinn, and as the hand of fate ritual had been less than helpful, I thought maybe it would be as well to return to the beginning and ask the brothers who found Torfinn in the storm if they recalled anything that might either help or provide a clue as to where to start.
This brought us to each other; Bella asked if there was anything I wished to ask her. I said I did but was hesitant to do so in so public a place for concern of her own privacy. I knew how protective of her secret she was, and heaven help the one who betrays her confidence. Bella assured me however that a crowded place was better because there were so many conversations going on that unless you were partaking in one you would not hear any of them. Assured, I began to ask about changelings, separating fact from the fictions I had heard in myth. It was a most interesting experience.
Having taken me into her confidence, Bella asked for one more thing- assistance in taking down Starke. Given how I feel Starke is a danger and a threat to free folk of the north, I was ready to agree but wanted her reason. This she provided to my satisfaction.
It has been a most interesting evening and tomorrow we head into another adventure; the Iron wyrm has asked our assistance and we have agreed.
This is it, from Bella...
Session 18: A Death in the Family
Derren is dead.
With our choice of profession we’ve been extraordinarily lucky that this has not happened sooner. This is especially true for Derren with the haphazard way in which he fights. It has been a long time coming, but we all knew it was inevitable.
The words of Ludwig the Hateful, the architect of this death trap of a dungeon, echo in my mind- “Anyone who dies here becomes a sacrifice to the Slumberer”. Even if we wanted to, would we be able to resurrect him? Derren is the biggest liability to my identity. He most likely told his brother everything in a letter, or when he visited Grimmsburg. Either way, Starke watches the Androsax’s closely. If Derren told anyone then there is a good chance he knows my secret. Hopefully not, but it may force me into a premature strike, always dangerous with Starke involved.
I remember now just moments before. All of us trapped in a hallway and a large stone ball rolling toward us. Our way was blocked by a deep, spike filled pit, and to not cross it would mean instant death. Unfortunately, I knew that I would not have the strength to be able to jump the pit. The thundering stone ball of death came barreling down the hall. For an instant I imagined it rolling over top of me and leaving me bloody paste stain on the hallway floor, then Derren wrapped his arm unceremoniously around my waist. He leapt into the air and carried me across nearly effortlessly. The moment was a little ruined by his hand lingering on my breast, but he did save my life.
We opened the door to the vast chamber beyond. In a center was a ziggurat of stairs surrounded by four shallow pools, each filled with a representation of the primary elements: earth, air, fire, and water. At first there was no danger and we spread out to explore the chamber. It didn’t take long until we activated the room’s defenses, and four elementals predictably rose from the pools to attack us.
We concentrated our best attacks on the fire elemental. It fell first, but at great cost, for we expended some of our most potent attacks taking it out. While we were engaged with the elementals, a golden skull, big enough to have belonged to a titan, rose from a black pit at the top of the altar/ziggurat in the center of the room. Its first attack laid down a blanket of fire, and to my horror held me in place. Flames leapt up around me, causing me burning pain. I felt my legs being scorched, but I steeled my mind and tried to ignore the agony. I turned my attention to the water elemental while my more hale allies kept the earth and wind elementals at bay.
The water elemental could not withstand the combined might of the Sorceress’, and the earth Elemental did not fall easily, but it eventually crumbled under the might of our melee fighters. Finally, there was only the Golden Skull and the air elemental.
Bjorn had been facing the wind elemental single-handedly for the entire battle, but it was still cackling with lightning. Deryl and I were able to stay out of range of the Golden Skull (which continually attempted to blast my allies with various magical rays) and still attack it while the rest of our party surrounded the cursed air elemental.
The wind elemental continually tried to blow its foes into the pools of black ooze that surrounded the altar and the Golden Skull relentlessly protected it by attacking those that engaged it. Derren and Bjorn both fell and rose again after each administering aid to the other. Eventually, Torfinn had to rush in with healing potions to keep them fighting. It wasn’t long before our healing magic expended, and Derren fell and did not rise again. Watching, I took out a final healing potion and was torn between running into the fight and concentrating my attacks on the Golden Skull. Dropping the potion almost immediately I loaded my weapon in a smooth, practiced motion and continued firing upon the skull. I should have been resolute in this; taking care of the threat of the skull was the best strategy in keeping them alive. It was the first time that my common sense had been compromised in such a way. Having friends appears to be dangerous to my continued longevity.
Over the course of he battle the Golden Skull had sustained significant damage, and finally I fired a bolt that shattered it, causing it to fall into the black pit from which it had spawned. A sense of triumph surged through me, for the hovering titan skull had been terribly vexing and had caused great injury to many of my companions. However, my triumph was overshadowed by the sight of Bjorn pulling Derren’s withered corpse from out of one of the black pools. It seemed that while Derren had been lying unconscious, desperately clinging to life, the elemental had blown his body into one of the terrible black ichor. The stuff was potent enough to finish off a healthy individual in a matter of seconds, so it was no surprise that Derren had not survived. It was a terrible way to go none-the-less.
Now we sit, mourning the loss of our companion while trying to rest and decide what to do next. We still haven’t found a way out of this cursed place. We aren’t even sure if there is one. If there isn’t one, not resurrecting Derren might be a blessing. I know I wouldn’t want to be brought back only so I could starve to death.
We rest now, perhaps things will look less bleak after that.
This journal is from Bjorn, but takes place prior to the heroes venturing into the Underdark and getting trapped in the Hateful Halls.
We have played another session since Derren's death that takes place in this nasty dungeon and features the most diabolical trap I have ever designed for a dungeon, so I'm hoping for journal entries regarding that session in the near future (it was also probably the most enjoyable game session I've run since my players fought Demogorgon at the end of of Savage Tide).
This journal details many of the events from game session #19 from Bella's POV. When we left off they were trapped in the deadly halls of Ludvag the Hateful, and Derren has just met his end in a terrible battle with elementals.
Session 19 – Naked Ambition
Victor,
My latest venture with the Androsax siblings was disappointingly low on profit and high on danger.
Deep below the silver mines that the Iron Dragon Kisanth had made her home we had stumbled across the halls of Ludvag the Hateful. We had not made it far when it claimed its first life, that of Derren Androsax. I was elated at first, most of our problems had come from the foolish noble. Luckily Bjorn had a raise dead scroll, and was able to perform the ritual and bring our companion back to life. (DM’s Note: The raise dead is a blatant lie put in the letter to Starke. The truth is more like this: Deryl used her magic dagger, which seems to be possessed with some sort of intellect, to perform a disturbing magical ritual that allowed us to bring the man back to life. She literally had to cut his heart out of his chest, and then Torfinn was able to gently stoke the heart back to life with his divine lightning. It was horrifying watching little Deryl holding her brother’s beating heart in her hands. She then placed it back in his chest cavity and Bjorn used his healing magic to seal the wound. Seconds later Derren jolted back to life. I still do not understand the exact nature of the ritual, and I am not certain that the Derren Androsax that now walks among us is the same man he once was).
After resting from our ordeal, we explored the two exits in the room. There was one on the south wall with a pool of freezing, necrotic black filth flush against the wall. It seemed to be the same foul liquid we had encountered in the bowls of the Temple of Yellow Skulls in the Ogrefist hills months earlier. Beyond a pair of bronze doors was a small room with nothing but a teleportation circle. Opening the second set of doors revealed another hall. Crossing the pit to open the first chamber had nearly killed me, so I stayed behind while the rest of the group scouted ahead down the hall. When it was determined that it was the way that we would go, I crossed the pool again and followed. Better the Devil you know, than the one you don’t.
The hall ended in a large chamber with an earthen floor featuring an enormous statue of Ludvag the Hateful and a pit/well. Upon entering it filled with armies of the undead that crawled up out of the earthen floor. I suspect they were the dead workers who had helped to build this vile place. However, we fought them off easily. Afterwards, a magic mouth activated on the statue and our illustrious host gave us salutations and empty promises. According to Ludvag, his crypt was deep down at the bottom of the pit and with him all of his earthly treasures but no easy way out. He even compared the traps below to the famed Tomb of Horrors, claiming that those of the Tomb of Horrors paled in comparison to the one’s he had designed. On the other hand, a teleportation circle in a chamber nearby potentially led to our freedom.
We explored the pit briefly. Cullen was able to tell us that far below was a cavern with a lake of acid and to the west was a shore leading into presumably the insane dwarf’s tomb and fabulous riches. We decided that even if we believed Ludvag we lacked the ability to delve into the pit unscathed and return. We chose the circle, and though I know what happened next, I am unsure that it would have been worse then what have happened if we had ventured down the pit. It would seem that Ludvag is very inventive. I find that I admire his ingenuity. Victor, I would recommend an expedition here with a more prepared team, the dwarf is a liar but there may be a grain of truth in the treasure he speaks of. All of his traps are purposely imperfect, they seem more tests for the skilled than contraptions made to kill, though they are plenty deadly. Perhaps we shall return another time. For now however, we all stepped onto the teleportation circle.
We materialized into a nightmare, a thin ledge against a wall next to a pit filled with fire. A chain hung from the ceiling over the fire and across the pit was a small opening. To add insult to injury, we were also naked; our gear was gone. It continued to get worse, the wall of course started to move and soon we found that it was cursed magical glyphs, which bore an enchantment that caused us to want to fight each other. Most of us were able to shake off its effects with little difficulty and those that couldn’t were not much of a threat without weapons. Unfortunately our kobold companions were far less iron willed. Two of them met their end in the fiery pit when they tried to attack us. Eventually we were able to use the chain to swing across into the next chamber where we found our equipment scattered on the floor and another teleportation circle.
Of course it wasn’t that simple, the room’s sole occupant was a flesh golem. We dropped, naked into the new chamber and rushed about trying to grab our weapons and gear, while at the same time avoiding the devastating fists of the hulking construct. After a brief melee we were brought close to death. We decided to flee, with our foe unvanquished, taking those of our possessions we could. Fortunately I did not lose anything.
Our final teleportation circle placed us in a pit surrounded by ogres in the Ogrefist Hills, naked, bruised and beaten, holding everything we own in our arms. Again we fought, but only briefly. It ended in us scrambling up the pit and running off into the night, chased by ogres nearly all the way back to Fallcrest. I’m starting to think I’ve forgotten how to kill.
I was deeply shamed but alive and unfortunately no richer than when we left. Though an experience in ingenuity, the halls of Ludvag the Hateful turned out to be a huge waste of time. Perhaps if you would be willing to fund a further expedition we would be able to unlock its treasures and my second visit will be more lucrative.
We can discuss it when I have mastered the Linked Portal Ritual, which should be soon.
Bella
This is Bjorn's journal- recounting events from sessions 18-19 (The Halls of Ludvag the Hateful)
Bjorn's Journal
It has been an eventful week and doesn't appear to be letting up, but let me start from the beginning. The day after Bella's and my dinner I was asked to join my companions at Deryl and Derren's new home where Deryl informed us that she had been approached by the Iron dragon with a request. It seems that there was something deep in the mines that was killing the kobolds, not necessarily a bad thing from my point of view, and she wanted us to investigate and eliminate the threat. Given the recently established trading relationship with the dragon it made sense to pursue the task. It would also afford us some intelligence on their set up if it should be required we return at a future date.
We left for the silver mines and were met at the entrance, where they insisted we wear blindfolds. We grudgingly agreed not wanting to irritate the dragon. We were eventually led to her presence where we were informed of the threat and assigned 3 kobold guides to assist us. They wanted to again blindfold us to lead us to the area of the problems but in this instance we refused- if they wished our help we would not be blindfolded.
We made our way into the depths and eventually found the lair of some odd beasts called Quaggoths, they seemed some sort of ape but not. After slaying these beasts we found the remains of a few kobolds and thought that this was most likely the cause of their troubles. The lair was located in what appeared to be old dwarven construction. To be sure this was the sole cause we decided to explore further. This in retrospect was likely a mistake. For we had just entered the next area of the complex when the passage behind us was sealed by a devious trap of falling blocks. We soon discovered we had ventured into a labyrinth of deadly traps and it was all we could do to survive.
I must recount a particular encounter with a little shame, if only to be sure I do not repeat it. We had just survived a nasty little trap relatively unscathed, and entered a new room that appeared vacant. Most of the party remained at the entrance while Derren and I moved forward to explore the room. That should have been my first alarm, but as we moved in Derren and I went in different directions. Alarm two. The room was a large rectangle with a central dais raised in steps. At each corner of the dais was a well. The two closest to the entrance we came in contained dirt and water; the far left one had a fire burning in it, and the last was empty. There were also pools of what appeared to be the same black oily liquid we encountered in the temple of the elemental eye around the room. There was one large pool at the far end before a small landing and a door. There was another on the left side of the room, in front of a raised ledge and another door. A third one was on the right, just in from the plain wall. The final pool was just in from where we entered the room and was easy to walk around. Derren leapt up to investigate the ledge and door on the left, and I went to the right. All was quiet until, fool that I am, I began to climb the steps of the dais. As I stepped on the second step the wells activated and elementals of the Earth, Water, Fire and Air attacked. From the central dais rose a Golden skull that must have once belonged to a giant. It shot some sort of ray from its eyes. I have no doubt that we would have sprung the trap eventually, but the fact that Derren and I were so spread out from each other and the rest of our party was an error entirely of my own making. I cannot in this instance say it was Derren rushing foolishly in and endangering us; it was my own actions and impatience that allowed me to wander from Derren.
The battle was hard fought, I stubbornly fought the elemental of air by myself, and did not disengage to aid the balance of my party who were out of range of my healing ability. I was sorely wounded several times, but I was able to bounce back. It was not until near the end of battle that my error truly cost. I was knocked unconscious and was dieing when Derren, himself grievously wounded, came to my aid. He had no sooner aided me when the elemental of air slew him, first felling him with a blow, then knocking him into the deadly black "water". He died before I could pull him out. It was while I was pulling him out that the rest of the party finished off our remaining elemental foes.
It was a somber party that began to rest after this battle, I prepared to cast the ritual Gentle Repose on Derren to preserve him until we had opportunity to raise him. At this point I need to step back in time a little; earlier we encountered a magic visage of the creator of this hellish place. He spoke in a language only Bella understood. Bella told us that the creator was called Ludvag the Hateful and that the only way out of this death trap was forward. There seemed to be more, but Bella said it was mainly boasting and threats that were not worth translating.
Just as I was about to begin my ritual Deryl interrupted, saying that her dagger had told her that if we did nor raise Derren immediately his soul would be consumed by the Slumberer and this may help to wake it.
My first response was - Her dagger told her!?!?!?. What is going on? Unfortunately, Bella confirmed both that Deryl's dagger was intelligent and that those who fell in this place would feed the Slumberer.
If I had not felt such remorse as the cause of Derren's death, I most likely not have agreed to the proposed ritual. This ritual required us to cut out Derren's heart then drop some of our blood over it. Then Torrfin would apply his powers of lightening to stoke the heart back to beating. It would then be placed back in Derren's chest cavity, and I would do some healing to mend the wounds. This would supposably restore Derren to life. I must soon talk with Deryl about this dagger; the child is becoming more and more worrisome. Regardless, the ritual worked and Derren was restored. The process and battle had stretched our resources and we needed to rest.
We managed to rest without interruption, and afterwards we began to examine both exits from the room, the exit at the end of the room lead to a small room with a teleportation circle. The exit on the left lead to a hall. The walls of the hall were decorated with frescoes depicting the Dawn Wars. About half way down the hall was a pit. Having experienced the traps of Ludvag, we approached with caution. The pit had runes in the bottom that reversed the pull of gravity; the ceiling appeared to be solid, but I was suspicious. We thew one of the kobolds out to the middle with a rope tied to it. Instead of falling down, the kobold fell UP! As the kobold hit the ceiling, the surface broke, and it tumbled upward into a spike filled recess. We used ropes and pitons to cross safely.
Ahead of us was a set of double doors. We managed to disarm the traps on the door, and we entered the room beyond. We again faced a fight, this time with undead which we were well able to handle. Ludvag made an appearance in a ghostly form to taunt us further. Bella informed us that there was both a great treasure and an exit, investigating this room we found a pit of acid and a secret door leading to a narrow passage. The pit no doubt led to Ludvag's tomb and the treasure, but given what we had faced so far we opted to forego it and follow the passage. I am not sure this was the easy route, as it led to another teleportation circle. Examining both this circle and the one previously found, we discovered they led to the same place and running out of options we used it. I was not amused. We teleported to a ledge a great distance above a flaming pit. There was a small exit across the room, and the only way to reach it was a chain hanging in the center of the room above the pit. To further complicate matters, the back wall of the ledge began to move forward and runes on the wall were effecting us with a confusion spell. Additionally, we were all as naked as the day we came into this world without any of our gear and no knowledge of where it might be. Not seeing a lot of options, in a moment of clarity, I leapt for the chain, and the Gods must have been with me for I was successful. I began to set the chain to swinging to make the chain easier for the rest of my companions to reach. The distance of the chain from the rune wall put me out of range of its nasty effects fortunately. Deryl using her power of flight flew to the other side without problem, taking her favored kobold with her. Eventually the rest of the party gained their senses and joined me on the chain before being pushed into the flaming pit by the ever advancing wall. Unfortunately, both the kobolds were still under the effects of the wall's runes and as they hung from the top part of the chain, they tried to tear at Bella's hair and throw her down into the flaming pit. Bella fought hard, with no weapon. In desperation, she managed to hurl both the little kobolds down into the pit. The next problem was that the exit on the far side of the flaming pit was not large enough to hold us all. It was merely a small hole in the stone wall, and in the next room there was a fair drop to the floor. The good news is we had found our gear. It was scattered about the room beyond; the bad news was the room also contained a construct of flesh that seemed eager to scatter our body parts in a similar manner. One by one we dropped down into this chamber. We spent a frantic time running around the room naked, gathering out gear and making our escape. There was some injury by all, though Torfinn seemed particularly wounded. The exit from this room was another teleport circle, which we used with a prayer that we were not going from the frying pan to the fire.
Fortunately, this circle took us out of Ludvag's halls of death. Unfortunately, we arrived in a place of worship for an ogre village in the Ogrefist hills, still naked and clutching our gear. We fought a hasty retreat and were able to get far enough away from the ogres to redress. We were exhausted from the trials we had faced, but we pressed on through the treacherous hills. We travelled all night long, pursued by ogre hunting parties the entire way. We were fortunate in that we made it out with both our lives and the vast majority of our gear. Deryl was a little upset at the death of her favorite kobold at the hands of an ogre shaman. I had no felling for or against them though Bella seemed particularly pleased at thier departure from this plane.
Some DM commentary. I had a lot of fun designing the nasty traps for Ludvag's Hateful Halls. It's not that often that I find an excuse to build a Tomb of Horrors style dungeon.
I was particularly pleased with the final trap/encounter it was probably one of my favorite encounters that I've devised as a dm. In case it isn't entirely clear in the journals I'm going to attempt to explain exactly how it worked.
The PCs step onto a teleportation circle, and it sends them to this ledge overlooking a massive pit of fire. The ledge is about 30' wide and goes 25' back. The pit of fire is the same width as the ledge that overlooks it, but it is about 60' across. It is a 50' drop down to the bottom of the pit from the ledge, and the entire pit is filled with permanent magical flames. A single chain dangles from the ceiling in the middle of the pit chamber. On the far side of the pit chamber (opposite the ledge) is a single exit which is a 2' by 2' opening in the wall, which is set at the same height as the ledge. The chain is lined up with the opening, so that it is possible for one to jump from the ledge to the chain and then swing to the opening. It is not an easy jump.
When the characters arrive on the ledge they find themselves naked. The only thing around them are some mundane weapons scattered on the ground. There own gear has been teleported nearby (as you will soon see). As soon as they arrive the trap triggers. The back wall slowly starts to move forward. It moves 5' each round, so that after 5 rounds it will push anyone left on the edge into the 50' deep pit of fire. Furthermore the wall is covered in aberrant glyphs. They trigger when the characters arrive with a Close Blast 5 squares from the wall (thus effecting anyone on the ledge). Everyone is subject to an attack vs Will. Anyone who it succeeds against takes psychic damage and is dominated (save ends, as per 4E rules). Dominated characters spend their actions picking up weapons and trying to attack their allies instead of worrying about the wall that is moving forward.
Several heroes were dominated but luckily made their saves pretty easy. However the glyphs have a 5,6 recharge, so they aren't out of the woods once they make their saves. In 4E this encounter is especially nasty because the heroes don't have easy access to flight magic and other effects that allow them to get to the other side of the pit easily. The sorcerer had a single round fly effect that could transport one other character with her (and she took one of the three kobolds, as opposed to an actual PC), but everyone else was SOL, so they had to jump for the chain. The cleric went first, making the jump, which he could have easily failed (resulting in a plunge to almost certain death). He then got the chain swinging back and forth. Other PCs (once they made their saves vrs. being dominated) started jumping to the chain (again they were lucky and no really low rolls showed up), so soon nearly the whole party was clinging to the chain). However, as the wall moved closer, so did the glyphs, so being on the chain was soon unsafe because those on the chain became in danger of being dominated again. The kobold guides were affected by this, and ended up trying to pull Bella off (it was a weird/hilarious image of an entirely naked party dangling from a chain over a pit of fire- Bella with kobold on her head trying to haul her off the chain). In the end the kobolds were too weak and they were tossed off into the pit.
The next problem was that opening on the far side was too small and not deep enough to hold the party. It was basically a 5' long tunnel that was 2 x2'. It ended with a 20' drop into another room, which contained all the party's gear scattered on the ground. It also had a flesh golem, which had enough reach to smack anyone coming out of the tunnel. Derren ended up feeding the chain through the tunnel and bracing his legs against the side wall to hold the chain so that the rest of the party could climb off it and start hopping down into the room with their gear. All the while the golem was smacking him for plenty of damage. It was nasty. Then the heroes had to run around and scoop up all their gear while the golem chased them and tried to trample them. Fortunately, they scooped up their bag of holding pretty early and managed to through a lot of gear into it. None of them were in good enough shape to actually fight the golem in any real way, so they pretty much gathered as much of their magic items as they could and jumped onto the teleportation circle (it wasn't actually that easy because I believe the golem knocked a couple of heroes down to 0 hp requiring magical healing and the like to be doled out).
All in all it was a really evil encounter but a lot of fun. I totally recommend inflicting similar nastiness on your party if you are a dm.
A quick journal from Derren
Dear Corvin,
It has been a while since I wrote, but you don’t die and get resurrected every day. Sadly, the details are a little cloudy to me – somewhere deep in Ludvag the Hateful’s trap-haunted tomb, I took a plunge in the black waters where Bjorn fell defending us.
I remember swimming, like we did at the villa as children – only I was swimming through stars. I could hear the laughter of the men at Valhalla, and I even think a Valkyrie winked at me when I looked up her skirt – but then I started drifting down towards towards this inky blackness. I swam as hard and fast as I could – my friends tell me this is when my heart was remade with blood and lightening and magic – and instead of sinking eternally into the slumbering void, I was lifted and came upon Niflheim, Hel’s dark domain.
You know, for an evil, half-rotting goddess and keeper of the dead who died in their sleep, she’s not bad looking. From her left side, mind you. Above her sat father Loki, and while I had a thousand questions about mistletoe, Torfinn and the death of a man named Flagg – I shut up. For once.
They warned me about some bad things about the end of the world, and wanted me to say hello to Torfinn – and with that – whoosh – I was staring into the pretending-not-to care face of Bella. Little did she realize I would soon see her naked!
Of course, the only way that chick would get undressed is if a magical trap stripped us bare and compelled us to fight one another while a bunch of kobolds clung to her hair. But that was two rooms later in Ludvag the Hateful’s trap-tomb of certain doom.
We made it out alive, no richer for our efforts and the ugly face of a laughing, maniacal gnome pressed permanently on our memories. That was one sick gnome (DM note: Ludvag is actualy a derro dwarf).
Your brother,
Derren
As of this session (#20) the party looks like this
Bella: level 9 changeling rogue (with a touch of sorcerer)
Derren: level 9 human fighter
Bjorn: level 9 human cleric
Torfinn: level 8 Deva Invoker
Deryl: level 8 human sorceress
Derren's player is moving in a couple of weeks, so we a have new player joining to fill in his spot. She will be running Vesna Surtursdottr (human, warlord). Vesna is introduced into the game this session.
Bella's journal
Session 20 – Fallcrest Falters
On our way back to Fallcrest we stumbled upon a skanzi longship beached on the Nentir River. Its crew, which consisted of a warband of sturdy looking skanzi warriors, were taking a break upon the banks of the river. They appeared to be making their way upriver towards Fallcrest. Thinking one of them was Brianna, Derren rushed forward flailing like a madman and falling upon the ground at the feet of their commander. She was a woman; though it was hard to tell underneath all that armor and the many scars that decorated her face. Her men formed a circle around her and Derren and much to our surprise it seemed that they had been sent to find him.
Their leader, Vesna, was the sister of Brianna. It appears that the librarian never told her father that she was leaving to join our would be lordling in Fallcrest. Her father, having his daughter disappear with a disreputable man of a fallen house, seems to have sent this small band of warriors to retrieve her. After a brief parlay Derren was able to console the stern warlord and appease her that Brianna was safely back in Fallcrest. We were able to buy passage upon her ship and the remainder of our journey became swift and uneventful.
We returned, however, to a city in chaos.
A band of men (we later discovered that they were cultists of the Elemental Eye) had broken into Deryl’s inn. They found the secret chambers and tunnels in the basement, and they used them to access the deep caves we had previously discovered beneath the town. There they freed many of the monsters that lurked below as well as kidnapped Brianna. As soon as we were in the city gates we were informed that Lord Markelhay was on his deathbed, having been wounded in battle trying to defend the town from a terrible titan of earth and stone that had emerged from the caves. To make matters worse, any reputable cleric had been killed in the assault on the city. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, Kissanth the iron dragon, was in the midst of laying claim to the leadership of Fallcrest in the confusion.
Both Bjorn and I wished to make haste to Lord Malkalhay’s side, as he seemed to be the most pressing matter at hand. According to what we knew Brianna had been taken out of the city and not knowing where she was we should have rushed to the manor to tend to the lord’s wounds. Instead, being lead by Derren’s foolish heart and Vesna’s stern devotion to duty and family, we stopped at the Blue Moon tavern to find out more about Brianna’s kidnapping. While we talked about the events that had occured with a drunken Sergeant Faringray, a messenger informed us that Markelhay had died; considering how quickly it happed, I doubt we could have made it in time to help.
Our warlord and fighter were appeased for the moment, and we hurried to the palace to inspect Markelhay’s body. Kissanth waited in the courtyard. Being cautious and respectful I convinced her to allow us passage into the keep where his body lay. We were taken to the body upon arriving by Lady Markelhay. Bjorn made a close inspection, and to his trained healer’s eye it revealed that he had been poisoned. Olivia, the maid was abnormally nervous, and seeing this Derren and Vesna started to question her. Terrified she would tell us nothing until Derren hung her upside down out the tower window. It was only then, crying and screaming that she revealed Kissanth had forced her to poison the wounded Lord Markelhay.
It was then we knew what had to be done.
Under the bluff of wanting to talk about the leadership of Fallcrest, Deryl convinced the dragon to enter the Great Hall. Once inside I bolted the door shut and we all closed in around the mighty Iron Dragon. We were lucky and surprise was on our side. Torfinn kept her controlled by stunning her repeatedly with his divine spells. Derren took the brunt of the dragon’s attacks and allowed the rest of the party to attack her in relative safety. Being trapped in the great hall, she was unable to take to the air. The element of surprise and numbers worked in our favor. It was over more quickly than I anticipated.
Kissanth is dead.
Though I wish to claim her hoard deep from within the kobold infested silver mines, it seems we have to rescue Derren’s useless librarian love interest from her captors. Hopefully it will still be there when we get back.
Bjorn's journal
It is with heavy heart that I put quill to parchment, for Torfinn is truly gone. Let me recount from the beginning. We had just killed Kisanth and learned that Brianna had been taken in the direction of the ogrefist hills most likely to the old temple we had earlier explored. The town was still in disarray but we could not spare the time to set things right if we were to have any hope of rescuing Brianna. This being the case we set off the following morning taking horses and a dozen of Vesna's men, one of whom was a good tracker. We knew generally where we were going, but this time we were cutting across land, instead of following the road and heading south, which was the path we took during our first visit. This should save us some time provided we did not get lost. We left Deryl behind to support Lady Marklehay in her grief and provide a little aid if it should be needed for the troops.
Once we reached the Ogrefist hills we left the horses with Vesna's men, and our party; myself, Bella, Torfinn, Vesna, her tracker Snorri, and Darren. Headed into the hills on foot. The ground of the hills would have been treacherous for the horses and the time we gained getting here would have been lost. We pushed hard and made our way to the valley of the temple in good time. When we arrived, Bella sent her familiar ahead to scope out the situation.
The Temple which we had cleared out when he last visited had new occupants. The upper area had a number of ogres patrolling and it looked like it would be a tough fight to go through them. That and the fact that the sound of the fight might alert those who took Brianna to our presence made us decide to enter through the lower entrance where the black substance came out. The only problem was that what had been only a small trickle had expanded into a stream and had flooded the entrance area. From previous encounters with it, we knew we could not just wade through it. There was a barely scalable path along the wall and into the cavern. Darren went first, acting as lead climber and laying a path of pitons and rope to aid the rest of us along.
Even with this assist it was a hard climb and falling into the black liquid would not have been good. Here luck was with us and we made it into the cavern. The climb continued as we made our way along the way of a tunnel that led to the interior chambers of the temple. We were almost through the tunnel when we encountered a partial cave in. This was actually an aid to us and made progress a little easier if a little slower, as we could brace ourselves between the wall and the collapsed rubble. Derren still had the lead and this far in there was almost no light. In order to see Darren activated a sunrod. As he lit it just as a trio of gargoyles launched an attack. If not for that light we would have been at a serious disadvantage. Again the cave in aided us, giving us a bit of a slope to fight from and allowing all of us into the combat. It was a quick and dirty fight, as the gargoyles attempted to haul us from our precarious perches into the nasty ichor. Luckily, the black substance proved to be as inimical to the gargoyles as us. We managed to hack our way through them and cross the pool of black liquid with little additional injury. We were not in too bad shape and felt we had to press on for fear the fight had alerted others to our presence.
We made our way through the flooded catacombs with out incident and approached the well room. This room was occupied by a variety of nasties including the air archon we encountered and fled from under Fallcrest, a lich, two more gargoyles and a trio of human cultists. Fortunately, Brianna was here and still alive; they had not sacrificed her yet. It was our tack to see they did not. This was a hard fight, and we fought well together, focusing our attacks to take down the threats before us. As the tide turned in our favor one of the cultist moved over Brianna threatening to kill her if we did not surrender. Immediately Darren and Vesna leapt to her defence drawing his attacks to themselves and preventing harm to Brianna. It was Bella's well aimed shots that ended the threat of that culist however. The fight was made easier by a well timed blow by Torfinn against the lich, knocking it into the well and taking it out of the battle. The fight had been a hard one and many of our resources had been used. We had been pushed to the limit but were victorious. We now had to get out. With Briannah in bad shape from her ordeal we decided not to go through the ogres but to attempt to go out the way we came in.
It was here tragedy struck. The way out was as difficult as the way in. Bella and I had made it out Torfinn was behind me, followed by Vesna and then Darren who was carrying Briannah. Given the precariousness of the line and pitons we were quite spread out so as not to put too much weight on any one point. It was as Torfinn was half way along the outside wall, myself and Bella at the path and Vesna at the entrance to the cavern, that he lost his footing and fell into the black liquid, he was out of range of my healling powers, and before we could get to him he had suffered enough wounds to kill him. To have fought through so much and die in such a matter was more than I could bear. I retreived his body and resolved to bring him back. The rest of the party made it out and we left the area to where I could preform a gentle repose ritual to preserve Torfinn until we made it back to town. Briannah was in some shock from her ordeal and we soon learned that they had preformed some sort of ritual on her and implanted something into her womb. I preformed some minor healings on her to get her back to Fallcrest where we could aid her better. As much as I wanted my brother back Briannah took president. After gathering the necessary supplies I performed a Remove Affliction ritual, this was trying on Brianna but successful, and with some rest she was physically well. In time she will heal in her mind as well, as she has begun to show some signs of recovering. Though given her interest in Darren you have to question how sound of mind she was to begin with.
With Briannah taken care of I now began the preparations to revive Torfinn. The Aesir Temple, though damaged in the latest attack had not burned down, and was in sufficient repair for me to perform the ritual. With Torfinn laid out upon the altar, cleaned and garbed in muslin, I began my meditations to prepare myself for the raise dead ritual. I was in the middle of my meditation when a most peculiar thing occured. A stranger came into the temple, and approaching Torrfinn on the altar he shook his head and said, “Our enemies have grown strong.”. He drew closer and continued saying, “I must send my son home now. His time as a mortal has ended. He was sent here to atone for his misdeeds and now he must face judgement.” Suddenly Torfinn burst into flames and the stranger disappeared. All that was left was a sprig of mistletoe. There was no trace of Torfinn and no scorch marks from the fire. Even as I write the details fade from my mind.
I offered up prayers for Torfinn and hope that he is judged well, for he was a true friend to me and I will miss his sometimes taciturn companionship. The others in the party only knew the front he put forward; they did not come to know his lively sense of humour and keen wit, or his true loyalty once earned. My bother you will be missed.
With Torfinn's final passing and the healing of Brianna, it is time to turn our attentions to Fallcrest and the coming months. With the orc raids and battles of the past summer, there is little to harvest in the area, and it will make for a very difficult winter. There is the possibility of starvation, as well the town's defences have been compromised- add the damage to the temple, and the murder of Lord Marklehay, and the town is at risk both physically and spiritually. We have decided to seize the hoard of Kissanth in compensation for Markelhay's murder. The bulk of this will be used to purchase grain and food stuffs to help the town through the winter. I have put forward that the provisions be earned by work restoring the town's defences and Temples. I have dedicated the restoration of the Skanzi Temple to Torfinn's memory. In the morning we will head out to the silver mines to parley with the kobolds. We will take the hoard however by force of arms if necessary, but it should not come to that. The one other matter we have to see to is the trial of Olivia, Lady Markelhay's maid for her part in the murder of Lord Markelhay.
A journal from Bella...
Session 21 - Heart of Ice and Darkness
With a sharp intake of breath I awaken. The room is freezing, far too cold for September. In horror I realize that I can see my breath clouding in front of me. I panic and leap from my bed my thoughts transforming my nightclothes into my trusted suit of armor. My hand reaches over and brushes the metal and leather grip of my crossbow and I watch as the metal frosts over at my touch. My entire body is wracked with the feeling of cold. I drop to my knees the crossbow still in my hand.
And then it is gone. As suddenly as it had come, it is gone.
This wasn’t the first time this has happened but I always react as if it is. The symptoms were becoming less painful and prolonged with each passing day, my body adjusting to a new power manifesting itself inside me. I can still feel the coldness within me, now a throbbing numbness. I can feel it flowing through me and into my crossbow. Although the crossbow was already magically augmented to launch freezing projectiles, I had always noticed that in my hands the bolts seemed to be more effective. The frost burns usually found on victims of this type of enchantment would extend much farther out of their wounds than normal.
I allow Cullen to manifest and he comes crawling over my shoulder.
“It seems mistress, sweet mistress that your powers are increasing.”
“Yes Cullen, I was just thinking the same thing. Although I have not been able to control this new ability, perhaps a few hours on the target range would aid me in honing it. I have a feeling however that it has not reached its full potency within me. Since I’m up I might as well get some work done.”
Bella sits at her workbench where a dragons eye is dissected and spread open with pins recent plunder from the defeat of the iron dragon, Kissanth. Her notes lay in an orderly pile on the table. Cullen leaps down off Bella’s shoulder and lands lightly on the table.
“The anatomy of a dragon’s eye is proving to be very educational. It allowed Kissanth to see a broader spectrum of light then us mere humanoids. With it I was able to manufacture a ritual that creates an area that allows creatures with regular vision to see as she did, at least for a short distance. It works like a light but would not be seen at a distance. I am confident that with further study I could create lenses that actually allow me see in the dark as a dragon would.”
“The main ritual component required the extraction of a specialized lens within the dragons eye that allows it to refocus light in order to see in the dark. Although the dragon’s eye was the first material component I was able to make the ritual work with the lens of any creature that has darkvision could be substituted….”
Cullen leans back against a stack of books and yawns but when his mistress turns towards him he snaps to attention looking nervous. Bella grants him one of her rare smiles, amused.
“It would seem it is later than I believed, perhaps I should return to bed. This can wait till morning; it is obvious that I am nowhere near to unlocking its mysteries. Come my friend, let us return to our dreams.”
Our campaign has been in a bit of flux over the past month, and the players are a little behind in their journals. Here's one of my own to help get things caught up.
Having rescued Briannah from being sacrificed to the Slumberer by the Cult of the Elemental Eye, the heroes found themselves back in Fallcrest. More time passed, and the companions kept themselves busy helping to prepare the town for what would surely be a difficult winter. The fall harvest was a lean one, for the fields had been neglected over the course of the summer due to the ever present threat posed by orcs to any who traveled beyond the town’s walls. Derren spent much time dreaming of and preparing himself for the day when he would head north to the remains of Androsax Hall and reclaim his ancestral lands from the claws of the red dragon Rathnir. He was insistent that it happen before the onset of winter, but the expedition was continually delayed as the heroes worked to help the town.
One day during that fall, a lone minotaur wandered into town. His name was Turak and he was a member of the Golden Horn tribe- a clan of minotaurs who resided in a labyrinth in the Dawnforge mountains not far from Hammerfast. Turak was a minotaur looking for answers. His clanhold had recently been razed and an important relic stolen from the heart of the maze. He had been away from home when the attack had occurred, leading a warband against hill giants. The minotaurs found themselves in battle against a large force of giants. It was a battle they could not win and Turak’s warriors had given their lives to see him survive, for he was the chosen of his clan, the minotaur who would be the next Guardian of the Maze. The sole survivor of the battle against the giants, Turak had returned home only to find that his clanhold had been destroyed and his kin slain. The attacker had clearly been some sort of giant, possibly a titan, for it had smashed straight through the walls of the maze to its heart- the place where the clan’s most sacred relics were held. The being had crushed all those who tried to stand in its way, leaving one minotaur corpse after another in its wake. Turak was devastated by the carnage, and the rage of Baphomet, which he worked so hard to suppress had been stirred inside of him. He had still to undergo the final stages of his training as the Guardian’s apprentice, the stage that would have told him the nature of the sacred relic that his clan protected. Only his master, the clan Guardian, knew the secret, and it was his master’s sacred duty to protect the relic and train the next guardian. Turak’s master was now dead, and the secret of relic had died with him. Thus, even though he had not completed the final initiation, and even though the sacred relic was gone and his kin dead, Turak was now the new Guardian. It was up to him to find out what had happened and reclaim his tribe’s lost relic.
He began his search in nearby Hammerfast, and there he heard some wild tales that had drifted up from town of Fallcrest. These tales spoke of a hulking titan of earth that had emerged from caverns beneath the town. The titan had carved a swath of destruction through Fallcrest’s high town district before leaving the town and disappearing into the wilderness. Rumors seemed to suggest that the creature had headed east towards the Dawnforge Mountains. Turak doubted that this event and the destruction of his clanhold could be unrelated. In all likelihood this titan of earth that had appeared in Fallcrest was the same creature that slaughtered his kin and stole the sacred relic. The time had come for Turak to pay a visit to the lands of men. He traveled from Hammerfast to Fallcrest, and in Fallcrest he met a band of human heroes that seemed to know more about the titan than anyone else. They agreed to help the minotaur track down the titan, but first he would help them.
Late that fall Derren led Bjorn, Bella and Turak north up the Nentir river to recover the Anrdrosax manor from Rathnir the dragon. Vesna the Viking daughter of Jarl Sturgleson had taken her longship and sailed back south to procure food supplies that would help see the town through the winter, and Deryl had remained in Fallcrest to attend Briannah, for Derren could not bear the thought of any more harm coming to her in his absence.
The Androsax manor was not that far north of Fallcrest. It was clear as they neared the place that it was within the territory of a red dragon, for the surrounded countryside was a scorched ruin. The dragon had marked its territory for all to see. Finally, late in the afternoon, near the end of a hard day of travel they spotted the manor up ahead. It sat on a bluff overlooking the river, giving it a commanding view of the countryside. If the dragon had made its lair in the place, it would surely be able to see the heroes coming with ease.
However, it was not the dragon that first spotted them. A small flock of harpies emerged the keep’s crumbling watchtower and flew towards the heroes. It seemed that the dragon had some minions. Before the harpies could get close, Bella had her crossbow up and aimed. She fired on the first of the foul creatures, clipping its wing and causing it to plummet to the ground. With uncanny speed she reloaded the weapon and put two more bolts into the wretched thing. The others suddenly lost their urge to confront the heroes, for it seemed unlikely that they would be able to get close to them before the markswoman had shredded them with her bow. They reeled in the air and hastily flew back to the keep where they would in all likelihood report to the dragon.
The companions decided to fall back and take an extensive detour that would allow them to circle around behind the manor and approach it from the rear. They circled so widely that they made camp that night several miles north of the manor, and if the dragon had bothered to look for them it had not found them. Yet their rest that night was not a peaceful one. They found themselves ambushed by a bloodthirsty band of bugbears. This was their first true test of battle with their new ally Turak. The minotaur proved himself to be a capable and worthy companion, and the heroes made short work of the goblinoids.
The next day they made their approach on the Androsax manor. They scale up the backside of the hill and approached the gatehouse of the keep. Bella had already sent her familiar Cullen to scout out the place, and he had found that the gatehouse was home to a trio of hulking feral minotaurs. A hag of some sort had taken over an out building in the bailey that had once been a chapel to Roa, and she was busy practicing some sort of blasphemous religious rite with the aid of another massive minotaur. Cullen had not investigated the main keep, but it was presumed that Rathnir made his lair within, though he had yet to make an appearance. The minotaurs in the gatehouse were busy fighting amongst themselves, which seemed to be their main source of entertainment. Therefore, it seemed likely that if the heroes could engage them in the gatehouse and keep them contained within, they could hopefully slay the beasts without drawing the dragon, harpies or hag into the battle.
Unfortunately, this tactic failed. Bjorn led the assault, summoning the power of Thor to strike a mighty blow with his hammer that resulted in a thunderous clap that shook the entire gatehouse. The minotaurs inside were sent reeling by the divine power of blow, but they recovered quickly and engaged the heroes. These shaggy beasts were far larger than even Turak, and their curving horns were wicked sharp and long. They thrashed with the savagery of Baphomet himself, and they used their horns to hurl heroes out of the gatehouse and down the hillside. It was likely that it had been the initial thunderclap that had altered hag and her minotaur henchman to the fact that something was amiss, and it wasn’t long before she joined the fight along with the three harpies. Even Rathnir emerged from the keep, but the dragon took up a position overlooking the courtyard and seemed to content to watch the show. The presence of the dragon kept the heroes fighting in the gatehouse, for they were fighting for their lives as it was, and bringing the dragon into the battle would surely have spelled their doom. In the end they managed to fell their foes, but it was one of the most grueling battles they had ever been through. They were bloodied and spent, and to make matters worse the dragon awaited them. The situation seemed hopeless. Then Bella came up with an idea. Most of the fighting had occurred within the gatehouse, and though the dragon had been watching closely from outside it would only have been able to see bits and pieces of the action…
Here's a journal from Bella. It takes place directly after the journal I posted above.
Session 22: Pain is a Teacher
The last thing I remember was sinking into a warm darkness and then there was a bright light. The light hurt to look at, pain coursed through my body. It cleared my addled mind. Most believe that pain is a thing to be avoided, but an assassin knows the truth. Pain is life. When I was pulled to the light, I did not resist even though it hurt me.
My eyes opened and they were filled with blood. Through a red hazed I looked upon the injured form of the final harpy. A bolt blossomed in its eye. I had made the shot so quickly that I didn’t fully realize that it was my hand that held the crossbow. Frost expanded from the wound and its head had exploded in icy shards. The immediate area was clear of enemies, but death still loomed over us. There was only one thing to do.
My arm falls listless to my side, I lay my crossbow lay upon the ground. I pick myself up, my body screaming in agony. I lift the strap over my head and my quiver falls. I drop the bag of holding, and finally strip off my chocker and my bracers.
I wipe the blood from my eyes and take a final look at my companions. We were all spent. Rathnir, the red dragon, watches from outside, and his fortress is surrounded by open plains. There was no escape, unless I could convince our final foe to retreat into his lair. Limping to the door I concentrate and become the hag, letting my armor form into her clothes. I would play the part of his minion, whose body lay dead at my feet. At the moment I cannot remember if it was my own hand that killed her. In foresight I gather some of Torfinn’s equipment from my bag, step into the light and walk towards the beast.
Rathnir’s eyes narrow as I come out of the gatehouse, immediately I slip into the role of the hag from what little I observed of her.
“Lord Rathnir, the adventurers who dared to insult you by invading your lair are dead. Though I am the only survivor, we are victorious.”
Rathnir’s eyes narrow and he leaps down flying gracefully despite his bulk. He lands in front of me, his breath smelling of carrion. With the dragon this close my fear is not an act. Any sane person would be terrified, and I was, but in order to survive I kept tight control of it. He scrutinizes me, as an owl looks upon a mouse. I involuntarily flinch when he opens his mouth to speak, his mouth filled with razor sharp teeth.
“I would have their treasure, bring it to my horde and hurry. Since you are the sole survivor perhaps you need my assistance in this task.”
I stammer out my response, “On no my master, I would not dream of having you soil your claws in such a menial task. Please allow me to take your new treasures to you. Here look, look, your patience will be rewarded”
With this I present him Torfinn’s staff. Lord Rathnir takes it in his massive claw to examine it, plucking it delicately from my shaking hands. All I can do is wait and try to remember how to breath while I am at the mercy of this beast. After what seems like an eternity he returns his ancient gaze to me. I can tell that he is looking for some kind of trick. Although my story is believable, it is unlikely. Finally with a huff he takes to the air with such force that I allow it to knock me to the ground. He flies back to the vantage point from which he watched the fight.
“Fine. But hurry with my new acquisitions.”
With that he returns to his lair and I return to my companions. I have only one thing to say to them.
“Run”
It should be noted that the PCs were very lucky to not have sustained a single casualty in that game session. The battle against the minotaur was one of the toughest they had faced, and there were several near deaths. If they hadn't found a way to deceive Rathnir and convince him to go back in his lair, thus buying them a chance to escape I think I would have had a TPK on my hands. There is no way they could have taken the dragon in the condition they were in.
This is lengthy journal by Bella recapping the final session of the heroic tier portion of our campaign, including the battle against the deadly red dragon Rathnir (with a little twist).
It begins the morning after the heroes fled from the Androsax manor. That night they holed up under piles of rubble from the collapsed ceiling of a small church that they found in a ruined village, which was located at the base of the hill that the keep sits on. Rathnir spent the night flying over the countryside searching for the heroes. He inspected the village, but only from the air, and they had hid themselves well enough that they escaped his notice. Thus, they were able to take a much needed extended rest.
Party Members
Bella (level 10 changeling rogue with a pinch of sorcerer)
Derren Androsax (level 10 human fighter)
Bjorn (level 10 human cleric of Thor)
Turak (level 9 minotaur warden)
Deryl Androsax (who joins in the action for this session, level 9 human sorcerer).
Session 23: Breaking the Ice
In the ruins of a temple we awaken, our jailer still vigilante in his fortress. We start preparing for the inevitable confrontation. There is a determined set to my familiar’s eyes, Cullen had failed me yesterday; he would not do so again. I think as I wait for the homunculus to rematerialize in my pocket, the dragon is a formidable opponent and the terrain does not make stealth easy; he has nothing to be ashamed about. Several tense hours pass and then we hear Rathnir take to the air and pass over us. Cullen returns with the news. Somehow Deryl has followed us here and is making her way down the river to the south.
Derren is through the door and running before I can completely relay the information. Reluctantly, we follow.
When we arrive on the scene it is surprisingly serene. We find Deryl standing in the river having a polite conversation with our enemy. As usual, Derren’s arrival smashes the tranquility, the dragon turns toward our fighter and the young noble engages in the only form of diplomacy he has ever been even moderately successful. Turak and Bjorn are not far behind and soon we have the dragon completely surrounded.
I stay back, not needing the same proximity as my allies to be effective. From behind a rock cropping I fire bolt after bolt into the fray. I managed to clip its wing, ensuring that it could not escape through flight, especially with Turak in the fray. I watch the battle progress, and it is just as difficult as we imagined it would be. The dragon’s breath rains down upon them again and again. It’s tail sweeps among my companions periodically, throwing each to the ground. I can see them tiring, but I also know that ultimately we are going to win.
Then I see them. Two white dragons flying gracefully toward us. They land in the middle of our battle. One of them calls out to our foe.
“Rathnir, [Other Dragon] sends his regards. [Drew, little help here, fill this in].”
The white dragons surround Rathnir and the red dragon focuses on the now bigger threat. We all take it easier now that our new allies have joined the fight. The enemy of our enemy is our friend. Already weakened, soon Rathnir falls to the assaults of the other two wyrms.
One of the whites addresses Bjorn.
“We have come to kill Rathnir and take his hoard.”
Bjorn looks them in the eye.
“One out of two ain’t bad”
And with that his hammer descends on the dragon’s head.
The brief respite the dragons had provided in our battle against Rathnir had left us with enough strength to still be confident against our new foes. The red dragon had weakened them, so most of their threat was diminished. I grew overconfident. Hoping to blind them I crept from my hiding spot and advanced into the melee. I looked into the eyes of the dragon and for a moment I remembered yesterday and staring down Rathnir. Fear threatened to overcome me, but I mastered it. Each of my bolts struck true and the mighty wyrm balked under my assault. Unfortunately it only lasted a moment as somehow the dragon shook off the affect. Its eyes turned toward me and focused, wrath plain within them.
As my vision filled with the dragon’s claw I remembered my fear.
My body is wracked with pain as I once again retreat from the beasts reach. I watch as Turak keeps the dragon in place as I fire bolt after bolt into its thick hide. With the four of us working together one of them relents, breathing it’s last as Turak’s hammer drops upon its snout. Its companion decides that perhaps Rathnir’s hoard was not worth his life and tries to escape. The mighty minotaur would not have that, twisting his horns into the dragons soft underbelly and throwing it to the ground. It soon realizes that it has no choice but to stay even though it will mean certain death. It tries valiantly to at least take one of us with it but it was not meant to be. Soon all three dragons are corpses at our feet.
Leaving the bodies we made our way to Derren’s ‘manor’. Just inside we found what we had fought so hard for. Rathnir’s hoard was a beautiful thing to behold. My fingers shook as I ran them through piles of gold and gems. Finally, following Derren as he blundered across the countryside had paid off and as an added bonus he was leaving us to rule over his new manor.
We returned to Fallcrest. The winter months would be busy for me. The bodies of the ice wyrms provided excellent ritual components for upgrading my crossbow. I also crafted a backup crossbow that was not magical or ornate. I created enchanted, personalized ritual books for myself, Bjorn and Deryl. After that there was nothing preventing me from mastering every ritual in Flagg’s book.
After these initial preparations Deryl and myself when to Grimmsburg using the Linked Portal in my tower. Besides shopping, we also had business to attend to. With Derren no longer in our party Bjorn was insisting that the young Androsax girl either stay with him or return home. With the mystery of the mark still with the girl I would rather keep a close eye on her. A compromise was reached. I would become Deryl’s guardian. It was surprisingly easy; her parents seem frightened of her and eager to have her far away. I could see regret in her mother’s eyes as we walked away but also acceptance. Deryl is a sorceress and far more powerful than she could comprehend. She is no longer the girl that ran off with her brother months before. Honestly, when her mother hugged her awkwardly goodbye it was like her own daughter had become a stranger to her.
The more unpleasant business was my meeting with Starke. I am unsure if he was dropping hints that he knows of my true nature but one thing is certain, he grows more paranoid as the days pass. Fortunately, he isn’t making any accusations and still considers me valuable enough to not attempt to kill me. He has let me go, but the meeting has made me aware that I must usurp him soon as I can now feel the bladed pendulum above my head.
Finally the Academy here has proven to be most enlightening. It is where Deryl and I spent the remainder of our days in Grimmsburg. I was able to find several useful rituals: One created by Tyjon the Mad that allowed me to turn my bag of holding inside out and hide it within a extra-dimensional space; another that has enabled me to mask the magical aura’s of my equipment, and a high level ritual for fighting underwater. I did not only find rituals here but some martial tomes as well. They showed me methods of loading my crossbow faster and shooting farther.
On our return to Fallcrest I find I have little time for socializing. I am at the shooting range almost every day. With time I learn to draw a bolt from my quiver and fire it at my target faster than blinking. As each bolt strikes home I feel the coldness within me flowing into my weapon. The crossbow was already a potent weapon, but in my hands it was becoming deadly; it’s frost enchantment more pronounced when I fired it. During these sessions I garnered much attention from the men of the town. They were content to watch and none dared approach me, apparently my frigid disposition had gotten around.
My crossbow is a variation of a hand crossbow, a highly specialized piece of equipment. Duplicating it and attempting to distribute it would bring Starke’s always vigilant eye down upon me, a meeting that I was not yet willing to provoke. The hand crossbow itself however requires less training than a bow and can therefore be effective in the hands of almost anyone. The walls of Fallcrest need to be better defended; perhaps I can approach Lady Malkalhay on commissioning the creation of crossbows for her militia. I should talk to Teldorn, the local dwarf blacksmith, surely he knows how to create them. I would even offer my services to any willing to train in the use of the weapons. It was time that the people of Fallcrest leaned take care of themselves and rely less upon us.
On that note, Vesna’s men seemed to be settling in. The many misfortunes of that had befallen the city had left many widows. They are poor farmers, but right now in these dark times soldiers are needed. As I walk through the streets I now feel more confident that when next we leave for whatever reason, perhaps we will not return to tragedy.
Time will only tell.
The next portion of this campaign journal recount the paragon tier of the characters adventures. We've had some new changes to our player roster. The player who was running Derren has unfortunately left us to move out east. The player who is running Vesna has joined us full time and will essentially be his replacement. The current party now consists of
Bella (level 11 changeling rogue with a touch of arcana)
Deryl Androsax (level 11 human, sorceress/wild mage)
Vesna Surtursdottr (level 11 human, warlord)
Bjorn Thorskirk (level 11 human, cleric of thor)
Turak (level 11 minotaur, warden)
Derren Androsax has retired to his new manor just north of Fallcrest with his new bride Briannah (Vesna's sister). The characters have endured a long cold winter in Fallcrest, but spring has finally come again. They have been called south to the town of Moonstair, which is located along the Nentir river about halfway between Fallcrest and the city of Grimmsburg. Their mission is to deal with Skalmed the troll king before he can rebuild the fallen troll kingdom of Vardar, crush Moonstair and march on Grimmsburg. The next few sessions will detail events of the King of the Trollhaunt Warrens adventure. This will be first published scenario used in this game (of course it will see some modifications).
The following is Bella's first paragon tier journal.
Session 24: Decent into Darkness
Leaning back at my desk I look over my notes on the dissected dragons eye. Its mysteries have proven to be more complex then I had first anticipated. Cullen is curled on the desk as I absentmindedly stroke his quartz skin. He purrs contentedly, like a cat. Turning his head he smiles up at me. I look down at him, having read and re-read my notes countless times. Something catches my eye, in the center of Cullen’s form, something that was not there before.
Lifting him up I look closer. It is like a dark imperfection inside the crystal. It is like a shard of darkness.
“Cullen, what is that?”
“Ah, you notice Mistress. As you increase your prowess I also change and grow. Soon you shall be able to alter my form to better serve you. In my new form we will be brought closer together. Although this will mean that I will not be able to scout afar for you anymore, you will be able to see through my eyes, eyes that will be able to pierce the veil of shadows.”
I roll my eyes, a little exasperated.
“Cullen, that’s what I have been working on. I was even able to find the plans for goggles in the libraries of Starke’s compound. I currently lack the components and though I loathe admitting it, the skill, to create them. The components are quite rare and they will take time to gather.”
Cullen grasps my finger and looks into my eyes pleading.
“Ah, but mistress, once you alter my form you will not need the item. Surely, you see the value? I only wish to serve you better mistress.”
He is of course right; dark vision without the aid of an item would be a boon to any changeling. So many of my enemies seem to possess it, and it would make impersonating them easier. However, giving up Cullen’s ability to safely scout afar would be difficult. Even though I do not make use of it often, it is a proven asset.
“I will consider your words with great care. I loathe sacrificing your current form’s abilities rashly.”
Cullen bows his head.
“That is more than I could hope for; my mistress is most wise.”
Weeks later, as I stand in the pitch darkness of the Troll Haunt, I cannot help thinking of this conversation. Of course without my familiar’s ability to scout we probably never would have found our way into here. The Dark Light ritual has proven to be less than effective in the field. Although no one can see it from outside its sphere of influence, from within it is clearly visible. I am also finding the fact that it remains tied to me to be less than ideal. I cannot see beyond its feeble light but enemies can still see me. Standing here now, blind, my decision is made, as soon as I am able I will take Cullen’s offer. Assuming we survive of course.
Winter had just been relenting into Spring when Moonstair’s call to aid came. Apparently a new troll king had risen near them and was causing trouble. Bjorn’s soft heart made it impossible for him to refuse. I would have preferred to remain in my tower, but my craft is expensive, and the venture could be lucrative. It would also give me a chance to field test some of my new rituals and besides, the rest of them would die without me. It looked like it would be up to us to play the role of heroes again and slay this troll king before he could lead his armies against Moonstair and possibly Grimmsburg itself.
After some unpleasant information gathering involving a local hag we found the Troll King’s, a large hill deep within the swampy mire that is known far and wide as the Trollhaunt. After some very fortunate scouting from Cullen we found an unguarded sinkhole in the top.
Our siege has so far proven to be effective, but less than ideal. We started by dropping into the sinkhole, and unfortunately into a group of trolls and their odd one eyed, vicious pets (Nothics). Luckily, seeing a beautiful woman literally dropping amongst them deep in their closely guarded compound caught them by surprise. I was able to blind one of the trolls with a well placed bolt and find cover while the rest of my companions followed and kept them busy.
We were able to deal with them relatively easily. Unfortunately, Vesna pushed one of them into a subterranean river that seems to run through their warren before we were able to finish him off. He disappeared downstream into the darkness with the swift current. Now I can feel our time running out the longer we stay here. Eventually that troll will claw his way out of the river. The place is infested with trolls. Re-enforcements will be coming, and we will have to find and kill their king, then leave. Quickly.
The journal's fallen a little behind over the course of the summer, but I now have a number of player journals ready to be posted, so I'll be posting many over the next week or so as I try to get caught up.
Bella's Journal: Session 25 – The Good, The Bad and The Ugly
After our initial assault on the Troll Haunt, we made our way deeper into their caverns. We found the trolls’ forge; it was a crude affair manned with pitiful looking grimlock slaves. Their slave master was a formidable looking troll with a dangerous looking, four legged, drake that breathed fire (redspawn fire belcher). His charges looked like they were going to attack us at first but they wisely held back. It wasn’t long before the troll was dead and his pet learned the true meaning of dangerous. In the end it was cowering in a corner when we put it out of its misery.
After the battle the slaves were more than willing to tell us in what direction to go to reach the Troll King in exchange for their lives. They were pathetic creatures and I could not see any threat from them that we couldn’t deal with. In a rare show of mercy, I decided that they did not need to die.
I took the lead. Having realized the limitations of my dark light ritual, I listened as hard as I could as I crept forward. I sent Cullen ahead to give me warning should anything come close to entering my light. The hall opened up to a large chamber and Cullen and I heard one troll up ahead, but I managed not to alert it to our presence. Deeper within we could hear many others, so I pulled back to confer with my comrades.
After hearing my report Bjorn wanted to get a look himself. Unfortunately he was lacking my finesse and he stumbled forward along with Turak. The only way he could have been louder is by singing a drinking song as he went, which would not have been unusual. The troll I had detected earlier spotted them and the inevitable battle began.
For once we didn’t advance into the room rashly but focused on the threat before us. Bjorn used a sun rod in the middle of melee to light up the cavern. Even though I had heard a large group, only a single troll appeared to re-enforce his ally. We wisely remained where we were and focused on the first troll and it fell quickly to our combined assault.
A second troll walked into the light, and I could see our warlord looking at it, twitching to charge the thing, but I cried out and stop her attack. I looked to our minotaur friend and nodded my head toward our new enemy. Where I would be cautious, the cow looked eager. He knew an ambush was ahead but he also knew that he could take it. With a roar of challenge he charged and was bombarded by the projectiles from the waiting horde.
A small cliff rose up before us, and the room we were in appeared to be a long tunnel that curved in on itself. Up on the cliff trolls howled and hurled rocks down at us. Turak and Vesna were able to pull the ranged attackers from their safe perch fairly early negating their advantage. Bjorn advanced into the melee while I remained back and fired into the group. One by one they fell, and Deryl burned their bodies with fire magic to make sure they would not regenerate. It was not long before we were surrounded by their charred, dead bodies.
We quickly made our way up the switch back dirt ramp. Re-enforcements were coming and they were not trying to be stealthy about it. Grimly we hid among the caves rocks waiting for them to come. The battles we had faced today had been taxing. We were weary and the day’s challenges looked to be far from over.
A small party of trolls entered the chamber from a narrow corridor. We struck hard and fast and fortunately for us were able to keep them pinned. We could see the Troll King screaming impotently from behind their ranks. We were able to keep the front line bottle necked in the tunnel and dissect it at our leisure. Turak held his ground in the mouth of tunnel they were coming out of, ensuring that they could not spread out around us.
Finally the Troll King stepped over the corpses of his minions to engage us. His one red eye evaluating each of us. His he raised his giant axe and brought it down upon Turak again and again. His end however was inevitable. There were five of us and only one of him. He was determined to go down fighting and cut into us with terrible savagery, but as I said- his end was inevitable. Finally, with a final brutal blow from his maul, Turak ended the king’s foul life.
Or so we thought.
In his dying breath he mocked us and his body disappeared. Frustratingly, it wasn’t over and we would have to travel deeper in the warren in order to end this menace.
“Mistress…”
It had been a long day. I lie curled up in my tent in an uneasy rest. We are far from home in a cold cavern in the Fey Wild. This was where we finally defeated the Troll King and his stench still permeates the room.
“Mistress…”
Our exploration of the King’s Throne room had revealed that his throne was a portal to the Fey Wild that Deryl was able to activate. It was here that we discovered a group of hags trying to revive the Troll King in a giant stone cauldron.
They didn’t succeed.
“Mistress….”
For most of the battle I kept out of harm’s way, my companions were not so fortunate. Both Bjorn and Turak were the victims of domination by the hags. They used the cauldron as cover so I was having difficulty getting a clear shot. In the end however we were able to interrupt their ritual and defeat them before we had to face the Troll King a second time.
“Mistress…”
I open my eyes and see Cullen flying in front of me, but I barely recognize him. He is no longer translucent crystal, but black and covered in scales. His form bulges out uncomfortably in places in a way that would be painful in a living being. His eyes look into mine, pleading.
“I apologize for awakening you Mistress, especially after such a trying day but it would seem that our powers have grown and I require your assistance to complete the transformation.”
Groggily I prop myself up and look upon the sorry state of my familiar. He really is a mess.
“It is I who should be saying sorry Cullen. You have been a loyal servant and a true friend. I do not say it enough. Without you this mission probably would have been disastrous. Allow me to repay you for all your hard work.”
With that I reach out and reshape his body with my hands and my magic. His ethereal flesh moves like smoke and clay and takes shape by my touch. I find that I am not in complete control of the transformation, Cullen’s body takes shape almost on its own. His obsidian scales glitter in the darkness, his eyes are pools of unending night. His wings are now those of a bat and he melds with the shadows as he hovers before me. When I finish he resembles a small but majestic black dragon.
Cullen flexes his new body, clearly pleased with my work. As I altered his form I could feel our bond changing. We were more closely linked, no longer would Cullen be able to scout afar. I wouldn’t say I liked the idea, but for what was promised it would be worth it.
“I thank you my Mistress, may I continue to serve you as well in this form as I did my last. Now please rest Mistress. As I said it was a trying day and if this were not so important I would not have waken you.”
With that he slips into my pocket and disappears.
I snuff out the light in my tent, ready to sleep and have a start of surprise.
My tent does not go dark, but is in hues of black and white. I can now see in the dark. I look around marveling at the new sense. My sorceress abilities are not flashy or indeed potent. This however is one of the greatest gifts they could give me. My eyes now pierce the veil of shadow. Now I can see just as well as my enemy, no longer will they be able to use darkness to hide. My bolts shall descend on them like rain.
Curling up I return to my dreams, content.
A journal from Vesna, daughter of Jarl Surtur of Grimmsburg.
Over the years, I have traveled far in trade and on errands for my father, and I have always had an adventurous soul; yet even I am home sick after the atrocities I have faced and the wasted places I have visited in the past few weeks.
In the interest of keeping peace within my father's borders I have joined with Bjorn cleric of Thor, Bella the sorcerous rogue, and a minotaur named Turoc to try to put an end to the evil forces attempting to poison our towns and cities with their vile cults and sacrifices. Having helped to dispatch a dragon in Fallcrest I wrongfully underestimated the difficulty of our next task during which we lost a potent ally named Torfinn to the vile sludge that wells up from the earth as a sure sign of the presence of unspeakable evil.
By Odin how I miss my long boat and my men; would that I could spend one night in their loud and caring company, or even a good nights sleep in my old room in Grimmsburg, or my own homestead. The gods know I spend little time there, but I do actually maintain a household near Grimmsburg run by my younger sister. She was widowed at a young age so I took her in, and I have counted on her trusty eye and hand in running my affairs while I am gone.
In recent days we traveled to the Trollhaunt near the town of Moonstair to deal with rumors of a gathering troll army led by a “Troll King”. Our last fight with the trolls and their king was exhausting and infuriating, let me explain:
After having delved deep into their king’s warren, we found a weapons forge, and we fought several troll guards slaying them all. I was able to shove one into the water just as it was about to take a fatal strike at Bella. I was not sure what to make of her at first, but I have growing respect for this woman as she is a very strategic archer and has seemingly mystic powers somewhat beyond my understanding. I will continue to observe closely, for there is only one thing I value above honesty and prosperous trade, and that is learning; knowledge is a tool and a safeguard in today’s world.
Once we reached the inner caves we faced not just more troll guards but their king. One of his eyes was a magical glowing orb, and when we had brought the troll king to the brink of death and suffered many blows and cuts in doing so, his body vanished in flame taking the magical orb with it. Just before he vanished the Troll king laughed spitefully and revealed that he had sent troops to Moonstair, and that while we fought here in the dank tunnels they were sacking the town. This angered me greatly; all those innocent people, farmers, bakers, inn keepers, wives, children hard working people, my father's people, my people, and yet I may not be able to protect them. Still I will continue and succeed or die trying. I have left my loyal servant Thom and a ship full of my best warriors behind in Moonstair to protect the town. I pray that they will be able to bolster the town’s defenses enough to stave off the raid. Meanwhile, I will fight evil in any form; that is my sworn oath. We shall seek out the troll king, and see that he is dealt with once and for all, so that he no longer poses a threat to my people.
DM Note: We had another change in our player line up. Deryl’s player had to leave the game and a new player took her place, so we had to write her out of the story and bring in a new character. After destroying the enchanted, formorian, stone cauldron and thus preventing Skalmed the Trollking from returning to life, the heroes took an extended rest. During this rest Deryl’s magical dagger burst into flames and the flames consumed her. The heroes awoke to witness this event and she seemed to be in no pain. Soon her entire body was gone and only the dagger remained behind. All the arcane power had been drained from it. The adventurers were left to speculate the cause, and they decided that Loki was likely behind the event.
Soon Afterwards the heroes were introduced to Melek the tiefling warlock/wizard. The following is the first journal from Melek’s player and introduces this new character.
Melek’s Journal:
Well, that has to count as amongst the most eventful few days that I've ever spent. Let’s see: Make a new pact with a new entity, leave the Feywild, return to Grimmsburg for the first time in years, learn that the one place that I really consider home is under siege, and witness a failed coup attempt that is pretty much guaranteed to lead to an immensely damaging civil war.
I shudder to realize that this still puts the week in, at best, third place on the "eventful weeks that I have spent" scale.
But I should probably start from the beginning. I traveled with a group of clerics of Thor from Thunderholme abbey to the town of Moonstair. Our mission was to bolster the town’s defenses, as it was apparently threatened by trolls. After arriving, I learned that the town boasted a mystic portal to the Feywild, and I volunteered to lend my support to a diplomatic mission sent to that realm to garner aid from the mysterious eladrin.
In the feywild I joined an eladrin war band that had become aware that trolls were entering into their realm through some means of their own. They suspected it was linked to our own problems with trolls in midgard, and myself and several good clerics of Thor pledged our aid in finding a means of sealing their access to the fey realm.
Well, that ended up in a complete disaster. We ran into more trouble than a band of pointy eared stuck up snobs could handle, even with my help. Several of them had already died when the rest of them abandoned me to my fate. I managed to fight my way out but soon found myself wandering in the swamps, sick and injured. My last real memory was collapsing in a circle of standing stones that I'd hoped would take me home.
Then we have dreams and images and sounds. I know that in my delirious state, I made some form of Pact with some kind of Fae lord. I really, really wish that I knew more. I guess that I didn't have much choice in the matter. It was that or perish. And I'm pretty sure that my soul hasn't been sufficiently redeemed as of yet, so perishing really was NOT an option.
At least I gained something in the bargain. I seem to have an instinctive knowledge of at least some of my newfound abilities. The Fey step and Eye blink are pretty standard Warlock fare, I've seen them in action before. But how the heck the Pact caused my Winged Horde spell to now be real burning damage as opposed to illusion I do not understand. Darn useful, mind you.
When I awoke I found that I knew the way to a strange formorian cauldron that trolls coveted. Certainly this information must have been gifted to me by the fae that I have made my pact with. That seems a pretty obvious hint as to what I'm expected to do. Wonder if other "suggestions" will be this clear? At any rate, I headed off to where my horns were leading me.
It was soon obvious that somebody had been there ahead of me. Corpses of trolls and various fell beasts littered the ground. As I advanced cautiously, I heard the sounds of people talking ahead. Given that stealth is hardly my strong point I called out. Fortunately for me, they didn't automatically attack the "Evil Devil". Even more fortunately, one of them was Bjorn, a Cleric of Thor that I recognized from Thunderholme Abbey. The rest were the usual motley assortment that makes up an adventuring band. Why do I detect the hand of the Norns in this?
With the help of Bjorn vouching for me I was able to join the band. It turns out that they needed my help to get out of the Feywild as the ritual required Arcane Fire together with a good knowledge of Arcane magic, and the sorceress who had brought them there had mysteriously vanished.
This seems a good place to give my impressions of my new companions:
Bjorn, a Cleric of Thor. What can one say about a Cleric of Thor? Brave, Trustworthy, Perceptive, generally dumb as a brick, and a good person to have by one’s side, as long as one doesn't have to listen to him TOO much.
Belladona – a highly skilled archer- almost certainly a Rogue by profession. I've met her sort many a time before- very, very, very good at killing things. My first impression was that she was something of a coward, but I'm not sure that is true. She definitely likes to stay way back from things and disappear at a moments notice. I have no idea whether or not she can be trusted. In my experience, people like her fall into 1 of 2 categories. Category 1 will betray ANYBODY at the drop of a hat. They tend to either die quickly or rise in power quite quickly. Category 2, choose who they betray with some care. They keep faith with at least some allies (at least as long as the allies aren't a major impediment). Only time will tell which she is. For the moment, I'm going to trust her no more than she is likely to trust me.
Turak - A minotaur. Not exactly sure what he can do, but I think he has some sort of ties to the primal spirits of the land. He hits stuff fairly hard with his massive maul and tends to knock things down a lot. Even more than Bjorn he seems to think with his weapon. Obviously, he’s a little bit of a savage. Still, he accepted me with no problems at all and that has to count for a lot, definitely worth cultivating his friendship. He also seems to eat only hay and mushrooms. I wonder what that is all about?
Vesna - A female viking warrior. She’s the daughter of the Jarl of Grimmsburg, and very, very definitely somebody worth cultivating a relationship with. She also seems to have a reasonable head on her shoulders, far better than I'd expect most viking shield maidens to have.
At any rate, I performed the ritual, and we all returned from the Fey Wild into a troll infested cavern, which afforded me the opportunity to see something of my new companions abilities.
They're all quite powerful, at least as powerful as I am. But they seem to be insanely prolifigate in the use of their abilities. It would appear that they believe the old saw "Never use a hammer to do a job when you've got a sledgehammer available", and they're quite bloodthirsty. Belladona attacked a sleeping Dire Bear. Yeah, he might have gotten involved but one can hardly be certain, and when some of the trolls tried to surrender the decision was made to kill them all anyway, which I had no problem with, actually. Trolls are vermin and should be exterminated. I was just a little surprised that my new associates agreed.
As can be surmised, this little pack of trolls was no match for us. Vesna went down at one point but she was back up a couple of seconds later due to Bjorn’s divine intervention. Bella hung back and sniped, exceedingly effectively. Note to self- never go against her unless really, really necessary. Turak bellowed and charged and hewed mightily with his maul, and against trolls my fire magics were a quite welcome and a useful addition.
Apparently Belladona is also something of an arcanist. After the battle, she threw a portal ritual and there we were in Grimmsburg, in teleport circle located in a tavern owned by the notorious Victor Starke. Apparently Bella works for Starke.
We next headed over to the home of the Jarl for a touching family reunion. It turns out that my companions had found a letter in the troll caves indicating that somebody wants the Jarl and Starke at each other’s throat. This person seems to think that this will weaken the city enough to make it easy prey for the trolls. It also turns out that Thunderholme Abbey is under siege by giants who are being led by an Earth Titan, and Turak believes that it is the same titan that destroyed his clan labyrinth. In my opinion that threat is pretty clearly our highest priority.
While conversing with the Jarl, I also got to meet Dean Danzig of the Scarlet Stone Academy again. I admit to mixed feelings about him. At the time, I blamed him for letting them expel me just because I was a Tiefling. But now that I'm older and at least a little wiser I see that he probably saved my life by getting me away from the vengeful family of that poor fool who died in the lab accident. And I guess that under the circumstances I can't complain TOO much.
I went off to see my family while the rest got involved in some diplomatic mission trying to arrange a treaty between Stark and the Jarl, a mission that turned out to be rather, uh, a failure.
Meeting my family again was about exactly as much fun as I expected. Father is still a raging a%$%+!+ who is convinced that I've thrown my life away. His reaction on seeing me wearing the symbols of Odin and Uller was priceless. My brother Leucis looked like he'll be hiring my sister Akta to kill me some time soon rather than have me as a rival for the family business (no matter how many times I tell him that I have NO interest in business he never believes me). And unfortunately Killista was out of town with her troupe. At least I got to see mom, which was nice.
The next day we had a big meeting between Stark and the Jarl to see if they could come to some kind of arrangement. The meeting took place at the Jarl’s Hall. Starke arrived in a massive iron carriage pulled by clockwork stallions and accompanied by a half dozen constructs called warforged. The warforged were originally created by my ancestors in Bhal Turath to battle the empire of Arkosia, and as far as I had known the secret of their creation had been lost. It seems that Starke had managed to discover that secret.
Starke acted very, very strangely. He didn't even try and to negotiate, he just presented the Jarl with a rather absurd ultimatum. The Jarl was to give him 1/2 of what he owned, so that Starke could build an army of warforged that would be under Starke’s exclusive control. In return, Starke would use the warforged to defend the city, and the Jarl could retain his title as the Jarl and continue to rule the city. There was no room to negotiate. When the Jarl didn't pretty much instantly agree (the whole meeting took maybe 10 minutes) Starke attacked with a really impressive, exploding, clockwork pigeon. I'll give Bella credit. She reacted instantly and managed to shoot the pidgeon down while the rest of us were gawking. I guess she showed which side she is really on. Given the resulting boom, I'm pretty certain that the Jarl wouldn't have survived a direct hit.
Even more suprisingly, Starke then drank a potion and disappeared. He didn't follow through with the attack; he just left. However, he warforged were ready to finish the Jarl off and they moved in to do just that.
I then tossed up a Wall of Fire to stop them. I gotta give Bella credit again- she didn't b&~*! when she got slightly singed by the fire. The warforged made their way through the fire anyway but were quite damaged in the process. As a result, mopping them up wasn't a big deal. They're reasonably tough but not a whole lot more than that, and they make Vikings look smart :-).
According to Bella, Starke had a look of surprise and awe on his face when she shot the pigeon and it exploded. I’m not at all sure what that means. The whole thing makes little sense. Maybe Starke has gone mad? Maybe he thought that he was negotiating? If he'd intended to kill the Jarl then why didn't he carry through while we were all reeling from the explosion? Did he WANT to start a civil war? Maybe he was surprised when the pigeon went boom? Nothing really fits. I strongly suspect that we're missing at least one vital bit of knowledge.
Not that it really matters all that much. Now we have a civil war. So much for the Jarl sending troops to relieve the Abbey. I hope that the rest of my new associates still decide to save the Abbey. Turak and Bjorne are likely going to be in favor. But Vesna is likely to want to stay here with her father. I have no idea what Bella is going to want. Presumably she's high on Starks hit list right now.
Hmm. I wonder if this was all some sort of ploy to get Bella really trusted? That sounds like something my father would plan- probably not but worth keeping in mind.
This journal picks up where his last one left off. The heroes have returned to Grimmsburg after defeating Skalmed the Troll King. They have discovered tensions high between Victor Starke and Jarl Surtur. In the last session “Starke” (there is some debate among the Pcs as to whether the man even was Starke) had a meeting in the Jarl’s hall and gave him an ultimatum. When the Jarl didn’t readily accept, Starke tried to kill him with a devastating, exploding, clockwork bird, and then used magic to make an escape. Bella foiled the attempt, by shooting the bird down before it reached the jarl, though it still caused great injury to him and many of his men. It seems that the fight is not yet over…
Melek’s Journal:
After having defeated the immediate threat, we only had a very small respite before the sounds of combat came from the courtyard.
Rushing outside, we found a large number of warforged fighting the troops of the Jarl. Alongside the warforged were a number of clockwork hounds as well.
We rapidly joined the battle and were fairly instrumental in ending it reasonably quickly and efficiently. One average warforged is superior to a viking warrior, even one who is a member of the Jarl's personal guard, but is no match for my new companions or for myself.
I was relatively ineffective in this fight since the warforged and my viking allies were too interspersed and since the Warforged are likely immune to my most damaging magics. Still, "relatively ineffective" hardly means useless. Fortunately the monstrosities were foolish enough to attack my flaming aura in an attempt to kill me, and do much harm themselves in the process.
Bella was her usual killing machine, sending in bolts of death from a distance, an effective (if rather cowardly) approach. Turak stayed inside to make sure that it wasn't all a distraction (or, at least, to make sure that the distraction would fail). Vesna spent the entire fight in the midst of the great melee, hacking and slashing at Starke’s warforged with her enchanted blade. Bjorn ended up coming into the fight before we did, having arrived from the Temple of Thor. He had been absent from the negotiations with Starke on other business, and his arrival was quite timely to say the least. Say what you want about Thor, but his priests can certainly fight, and do a fine job of inspiring and aiding their allies. Despite taking a couple of significant blows, I ended up the fight less injured than I was when I started thanks to Bjorn’s divine healing powers. He truly is in Thor’s favor.
The warforged were coming in from a teleportation circle inscribed on the floor of Starke's coach, an interesting (if rather expensive) way of getting troops into the castle. I'm still wondering to what end, though. Surely Stark couldn’t have expected such paltry numbers to win? Even if we had not been present the Jarl would have been able to easily flee. Of course, had we not been there, he would surely have been obliterated by the exploding bird and the majority of his personal guard would likely have been cut down, so perhaps I don’t give Starke enough credit.
Although I didn't hear it myself, Bjorn later revealed that he saw one of the Warforged collapse and whimper for his mommy in a child like voice. It seems highly likely that the souls of youths are being used in the construction of the monstrosities. Starke is a naughty man, deserving of punishment.
After the battle we did the usual stuff. I put out fires that had just happened to start in the jarl’s hall (amazing how often that happens near me), Bjorn and Vesna tended to the wounded, Turak took a piss and Bella disappeared.
Then came the discussion as to what we should do next. Apparently the teleport circle at Thunderhome Abbey is no longer functional. Unfortunately, that indicates that the Abbey has fallen. It certainly means that getting there will take longer and be considerably more dangerous.
Vesna seems obsessed with the idea of building her own Warforged. This makes me pretty nervous. Even if we can find the ritual and even if it is learnable by a non-artificer (both of which seem fairly unlikely) we'd be presented with the problem of getting the jewels and forging the bodies. Oh, yes, not to mention getting the souls into the bodies; I should consider that as well. And all that ignores the possibility that there is some ritual known only to Starke that can take control of Warforged.
Warforged helping to defend the city was a reasonable idea had some kind of accommodation could have been made between Stark and the Jarl, but it is too late for that.
I'll give Vesna credit though, she convinced the Jarl to train all the peasants and to get the local militias into some form of order. I'm not sure if she sees that as useful against Starke, but it will definitely help against the giants should they come at Grimmsburg.
After some discussion of alternatives that could not possibly work (eg, keeping Stark besieged), we decided that the only reasonable course was to try and go into Starke’s fortress and kill him. Bella knows a fair bit about the layout, so we have at least a small chance of success.
The Scarlet Academy is willing to give us some material aid, as is the temple of Odin. We're the only ones willing to risk our lives, though. Typical.
We have a cunning plan involving a passwall ritual, invisibility potions and the like. I bet they won't even survive our making it to his lair, which occupies the entirety of a man made island in the filthy district of the city that is known as the Styes.
We all seem to be going for different reasons. Bella seems to have been personally insulted by Starke attacking the Jarl the way that he did. Vesna, of course, wants to avenge an attack on her father. I’m not really sure why Turak and Bjorn are going along, I'd have expected them both to be off for Thunderhome, but I suppose they have some loyalty to Bella and Vesna. As for me, well I need to cement my relationship with my new allies. More importantly, sacrificing the souls of innocents to create warforged is just WRONG and has to be stopped, and the odds of Thunderhome not already having been destroyed seem low.
I just hope that my new associates know when to fight and when to run. Because running early, quickly and often might be the only way that we survive this, that or actually succeeding in killing Starke.
The Battle Against Victor Starke:
Melek's third journal:
You've got to love it when things go pretty much to plan. I just wish that happened more often.
We cast the ritual magic that would allow us to operate underwater and approach Starke’s island fortress from polluted waters of the Grimmsburg harbor. As we arrived, we were attacked by a small pack of oversized, clockwork eels, presumably created by Starke. These weren't really that much of a threat, and we quickly dispatched them before they could raise the alarm. Even with the ritual magic allowing us to fight underwater my vaunted fire magics were somewhat negatively affected but not to any huge extent, and I still managed to make myself useful in the battle.
Next, I cast a ritual to allow us to locate the Hat of Disguise that Starke frequently wears, in hopes that we could pin point his location in the sprawling complex. Fortunately, the ritual worked, and it appeared that Starke was not terribly far from us.
We then cast a passwall ritual that instantly created a tunnel into the compound, which we directed towards where we believed he would be found. The harbor water of course rushed into the tunnel. We were swept into the bottom level of Starke’s lair in a great flow of water. As anticipated, the water even knocked out at least one ward spell.
We found ourselves knee deep in water, in a room with a permanent teleport circle inscribed in the floor. Bella wanted to spend some time studying the circle, but when I pointed out that we had to get to Starke quickly she agreed.
After a quite short trip we found ourselves at a set of large doors. Our detection ritual indicated that Starke was likely behind them. The doors were made of metal and locked with a complex gear lock that was built right into the door. Bella then tried to use her thievery skills to open the doors. She failed miserably with the result being a large explosion, as she triggered an undetected ward. I thought I was far enough away but, alas, I was not. I suffered some injuries, but thanks to Bjorn’s healing powers, I recovered quickly.
As I mentioned, the door mechanism was an intricate puzzle of gears, so I gave Bella some tips on opening it. She ignored those tips and followed her intuition. Good thing the ward only went off the once. Still, the third time is the charm. Bella managed to open the door. Confronting us was a line of Warforged who somehow had been alerted to our presence (I wonder if the ward going off had anything to do with that :-)). Behind the warforged was a huge laboratory where Starke and a band of dwarven lab assistants were obviously trying to make a massive war forged, one at least as large as a giant. 4 people were strapped to tables showing us that life forces or souls are clearly part of Starke’s process.
Mayhem then ensued. Fortunately, my Wall of Fire spell gave the warforged an unpleasant choice- stay where they were and burn in my flames or fall back, thus allowing us access to the room. They chose the latter.
Starke’s immediate counters of a cloud of toxic gas and some silly swarm of clockwork bees weren't particularly effective. Actually, that isn't at all fair to my companions, especially not to Bjorn. Starke’s attacks were plenty dangerous, and without his healing magics we would have all perished. Thor is especially good at keeping those doing his business up on their feet.
After some time hacking through the warforged that were still clustered near the entrance, we managed to force our way fully into the laboratory. Turak went into what was essentially single combat with a dwarven artificer, while Vesna and Bjorn were embroiled in combat with the warforged. Bella went after Starke, and I went after targets of opportunity as they presented themselves. A bunch of idiotic dwarven lab helpers were foolish enough to throw themselves into the fray to fight and to die, for we were showing no mercy to Starke’s allies.
The battle proceeded, as we were forced to waste time dealing with Starke’s minions. Then Bella pulled out all of the stops and tried to kill Starke with a flurry of frost bolts from her crossbow. She wasn't anywhere near as effective as she hoped, for his clockwork armor was damn tough to penetrate, but she did manage to significantly weaken him. Starke struck back with a massive blast of lightning unleashed from his armor, knocking both Turak and myself off our feet. It felt like it almost killed me, but I was somehow still alive. I found myself lying on the ground surrounded by Starke’s minions who were eager to kick a down tiefling. Fortunately, my shield was just enough to save my ass from their barrage of attacks, and soon I once again felt Bjorn’s healing powers wash over me.
I crawled to my feet, and it was my turn. I'm loathe to admit how much my diabolic heritage relishes putting the hurt on those already suffering. But it does. And it does so quite effectively. I cursed Starke and unleashed a storm of magical fury upon him. It was still not enough to kill Starke, but it was enough to make him regret his decision not to flee when he had the opportunity. Turak had finished off the dwarven artificer and was now upon him, and thanks to the aid of Turak’s spirit allies and a well placed bolt from Bella, Starke would not be making an easy escape.
Turak finished off what Bella and I had started. Bravely ignoring the crackling lightning that was now streaming from Starke’s armor, Turak strode forward, suffered the pain and put Stark out of his (and our) misery with a mighty blow from his maul.
The clean up after that was swift, as Bjorn and Vesna brought down the remaining warforged.
Then a very interesting thing occurred. In a room attached to the lab we discovered a sentient Warforged from the southern lands, a warforged whose existence dates back to the lost empire of my people. He had been locked in a cage by Starke, and presumably Starke had been using him to “reverse engineer” the lost art of warforged creation. It transpired that he'd been betrayed by Bella (imagine my shock and surprise) and sold by her to Starke. He wasn't happy about that, and wanted little more than to track down and kill Bella. He also seemed to automatically treat me with a considerable amount of respect and deference. Which, I must admit, made a very welcome change from the usual way that my kind are seen.
If time and opportunity allows I have to try and pick his brains, if he has such a thing. He'll have a unique perspective on so many things, combined with knowledge of many things long forgotten.
Fortunately, warforged don't seem to be all that bright and he bought into Bella’s b~$#%**~ that she had no choice, fearing for her life if she didn't deliver the warforged to Starke. While I don't really doubt that it would have made things uncomfortable for Bella, I'm pretty sure that she had lots of other options and did what she did at least as much for the riches that it gained her as from fear of Stark.
He wishes to return home. Unfortunately (albeit not surprisingly), he doesn't know the make up of any teleport circles there. And I certainly don't trust what the Scarlet Academy will do if they find out about him. Apparently they were also seeking him when Bella betrayed him. I’m not sure if they knew that he was sentient, and I’m not sure that they'd care.
It’s not clear what we're going to do with him. For the moment, at least, we don't have to worry about it. First we need to look through the fortress and make sure that there are no more significant enemies here, particularly on this level. We will also be sure to take the time to more thoroughly explore this lower level. Bella claims it is Starke’s personal sanctuary, and she thinks he likely stores many of arcane secrets and worldly wealth down here. We are eager to find all the interesting and valuable items before soldiers of the Jarl come in grabbing and smashing everything in sight.