Continued from Bastard Greyhawk: Urban Decay: https://paizo.com/threads/rzs43qcd?Bastard-Greyhawk-Urban-Decay
Dramatis personae:
Fredricka the Fierce, female human fighter 3 of Greyhawk; daughter of an ugly whore and possibly a dwarf. age 18. Red hair, green eyes, freckles. 5', 130 lbs. Full plate, greatsword. (NPC, originally a PC of Emily).
Galena, female human monk 3 of the Twilight Monastery in the Cairn Hills (Rachel). Age 25. Auburn hair, green eyes, pale complexion. 5',7", 120 lbs. Blue dress, quarterstaff, and a sling.
Lia Galanodel, female wood elf cleric 3 of Corellon Larethian from the Gnarley Forest (Molly). Age 144 (about 24 in human years). Long red hair, green eyes, fair skin. 5', 110 lbs. Blue robes, breastplate, heavy darkwood shield, longsword, longbow.
Nico Bolas, male human rogue 3, originally from the Wild Coast. Currently works confidence schemes in the Foreign Quarter for Greyhawk's Guild of Thieves (Ryan). Age 28. Black hair, blue eyes, pale complexion. 5'9", 170 lbs. Black studded leather armor, rapier, wand of magic missiles.
Preh, male human rogue 3 of Greyhawk; currently a River Quarter operative for Greyhawk's Guild of Thieves (Jason). Age 18. Short red hair, green eyes. 5',5", about 135 lbs. Mithral shirt, rapier, quiver of darts.
Rune Ulfricsson, male human Barbarian 1/Bard 2 of the Frost Barbarians (Jacob). Age 27. Shoulder-length auburn hair, beard, green eyes, fair skin. 6'3", 215 lbs. Chain shirt, battleaxe, greatsword, shortbow.
Theodred, male gray elf wizard 3 of Celene (Mike). Age 130 (22 in human years). Long silver hair, blue eyes, pale skin. 5'8", 130 lbs. Foppish clothes, longsword.
Toben AKA Ricos, male half-elven ranger 3 of the Bronzewood Lodge in the Cairn Hills (Shaun). Age 30 (human equivalent 22). Brown hair, green eyes, pale complexion. 5',8", 150 lbs. Chain shirt, twin shortswords.
Verben, male human cleric 3 (Pelor) of Greyhawk (NPC, PC of Denni in my Age of Worms campaign over 10 years back, which chronologically takes place a year later). Age 18. Black hair, brown eyes, tanned complexion. 5'11", 200 lbs. Breastplate, mace, and shield.
Planting 9th to Reaping 1st, 594 CY
Over the next three months or so, Galena, Nico, Preh, and Toben settle in to life in Greyhawk. Though free time is scarce, most of them take the time to socialize with one another at least once weekly.
A few days after slaying the wererat Vernon Atcher, Galena told everyone that she’d be unavailable for a while, as she’d found a new mentor.
Verben later shared that said mentor is likely an aging paladin named Erasmus Polidori, who recently returned to Greyhawk. A devotee of a servant power of Pelor named Saint Bane the Scourger, patron saint of undead hunters, Polidori recently returned to the city after being away for several months, and is known to be an adjunct tutor at Grey College, where Galena was recently spotted.
Preh and Nico spend most of their time on jobs for the Guild of Thieves. Preh, mostly on second-story work for Tirra in the River Quarter, and Nico chiefly helping out with gambling operations at the Pit under Meg.
Verben, the priest of Pelor who accompanied the group on their first adventure, hooked Toben up with a regular gig. About once per week, the ranger chaperones a handful of orphans from the City Orphanage (run by the church of Pelor) on overnight camping trips to North Hills Park (the large wooded expanse just north of Greyhawk) and teaches them survival skills. Occasionally, one or two children from the wealthy Garden or High Quarter accompany the group (after a hefty donation to the church to fund the orphanage, of course). Toben receives a small stipend from this which allows him to rent a small room in Midnight’s Muddle, a diverse neighborhood in Greyhawk’s Foreign Quarter.
Sunday, Reaping 2nd, 594 CY
Toben meets Lia Galanodel, a wood elf priestess of Corellon Larethian in Greyhawk’s Low Market. She invites the ranger to Godsday services at the elf god’s chapel in Greyhawk’s Garden Quarter, near the Star of Celene Inn.
Godsday, Reaping 4th, 594 CY
Toben attends Godsday services that evening at Greyhawk’s chapel of Corellon Larethian, and attends the after-service dinner at the Star of Celene with Lia. The two are joined later that night by Theodred, a gray elven wizard. The three part as friends, with Toben stating his intention to return the following Godsday.
Moonday, Reaping 10th, 594 CY
That afternoon, Toben receives a message from Bronzewood Lodge, a druidic community about three days east of Greyhawk in the Cairn Hills, requesting his presence. Planning to leave on the morrow, he tells Preh of his plans over dinner that evening at the Blue Dragon Inn. The ranger also tells the rogue about the new elven friends he made last Godsday at the Star of Celene, stating, “I hope they aren’t disappointed when I don’t show up tomorrow.”
Godsday, Reaping 11th, 594 CY
Toben leaves Greyhawk early that morning on horseback.
That evening finds Preh and Nico sharing drinks at the Pit, Greyhawk’s “fight club,” with their friend Fredricka the Fierce. Several minutes after Fredricka goes to the bar to buy another pitcher of ale, she returns with new companion—a tall, auburn-haired Frost Barbarian with a greatsword on his back named Rune. The man is Rune, a skald (sort of a lorekeeper and orator) of his people, newly arrived in Greyhawk that morning (which explains the backpack he carries).
Joining the three, Rune states that he came to the city seeking a former mentor, Falagar, who left the barbarian lands a decade before to teach at Greyhawk’s famed Bardschool. Unfortunately, classes are out for the summer, and Falagar is on something called “sabbatical.” On top of all that, Rune discovered that the Bardschool was rather costly, the first year running 50 gold orbs, far more than he had left in his purse!
The barbarian soon found his way to the Pit, hoping he might pick up a bit of coin in the fights. But Rune faced yet another obstacle when one of the pit bosses informed him only members of the Guild of Gladiators, Wrestlers, and Professional Combatants were allowed to compete, and the price of membership was a hefty ten gold orbs, far more than he had on hand. The boss suggested that “Mister Furzear” might be willing to spot him the funds, and pointed toward a sleazy-looking old halfling with slicked-backed hair sitting in a booth overlooking the Pit’s central fighting ring. Deciding to chance it, Rune began making his way up several sets of stairs to the halfling’s box. Luckily, Fredricka spotted this exchange on her way to the bar, and intercepted Rune, warning him that once someone owes “the Weasel,” they’re forever in his debt.
Godsday, Reaping 11th, 594 CY
While Nico seems at first disappointed that Fredricka isn’t trying to recruit a mark, the three soon find Rune to be likeable, if a bit naïve about life in the big city. Over a few drinks, the three help him choose a few fights to bet on, winning the young barbarian some modest coin–not enough to draw the Weasel’s attention, but enough for a few nights at a decent inn.
Shortly after nightfall, the four retire to the Blue Dragon Inn’s tap room and swap war stories over dinner and several pints of Witch Queen’s Cauldron, the heady house brew named for the mother of Iuz himself. Rune finds himself intrigued by his new friends’ tales of wererats, Vecnan cults, and the walking dead, and expresses interest in accompanying them should the opportunity for battling such evil arise again. It’s well past midnight by the time Rune retires to his room and Preh, Nico, and Fredricka leave for their own lodgings. Based on the way the big man carries himself, Preh, Nico, and Fredricka agree he might be useful in a fight, deciding to keep him in mind should they expect trouble in the near future.
That evening, at moonrise, services to Corellon Larethian are held near the Star of Celene in Greyhawk’s Garden Quarter. Toben, not leaving word that he’s left town, is absent, much to the consternation of Lia. Theodred, of course, shows up to the after-service dinner at the Star. He suggests Toben didn’t show because he felt overwhelmed and a bit out of place at the almost-exclusively elven establishment.
Waterday, Reaping 12th, 594 CY
At midmorning, Lia decides to track Toben down and find out why he missed Godsday services last night. Leaving the Garden Quarter, she meets Theodred on the Processional, on his way to the High Market, and he joins her. As Toben mentioned that he frequents the Blue Dragon, Lia figures they’ll check there first.
Late that morning, Preh arrives at the Blue Dragon to check on Rune. Knocking at the door to his room, the young rogue urges the barbarian to get dressed before the inn stops serving breakfast. As the two finish up their meal, they see a pair of elves walk in—a red-haired female in blue robes and a tall, foppishly-dress male with long silver-hair. Gustin Longpike, a bearded half-elf from Perrenland who owns the Blue Dragon, motions them over to the bar.
As Lia and Theodred approach the bar, the priestess explains that she met Longpike a few weeks ago in the High Market. “I invited him to Godsday services,” she says, “and he invited me here, promising me a flagon of his house ale—something called ‘Witch Queen’s Cauldron.”
“Named after Iggwilv, lover of demons, mother of Iuz, and former queen of Perrenland, I presume?” asks Theodred.
“Obviously,” she whispers. “Anyway, since he never showed up for services, I had little desire to try something named for the mother of that demonic half-fiend that started the Greyhawk Wars. Sounds absolutely dreadful.”
“Looks like you’ll be trying it now,” intones Theodred, watching as the bartender sits a mug of thick, black ale upon the bar.
“Lia, was it?” the bearded half-elf asks. “My apologies that I’ve yet to make it to Godsday services, but I see you’ve accepted my own invitation.” He pushes the mug toward her.
“Thank you, Mister Longpike,” the priestess says, wincing. “Actually, we’re here looking for someone.”
“A half-elf,” says Theodred. “Rather rustic fellow. Calls himself ‘Toben.’ Says he frequents this place.”
“Please, Lia, call me Gustin,” the barkeep replies. “Well, I do know Toben, but I haven’t seen him in a few days. You might ask his friend Preh over there.” The half-elf motions to a table in the taproom’s corner, occupied by two humans—one, a slight young man with short red hair in dark clothing; and the other a tall, bearded, auburn-haired man dressed in the style of the northeastern barbarians.
“We’re going to need a pitcher of that,” says Theodred. “And three more mugs.”
Preh and Rune watch this exchange with curiousity from across the room.
“We don’t get many elves up north,” notes Rune.
“They’re not exactly common in Greyhawk, either,” Preh responds. “Though the elven kingdom of Celene lies just a few days to the west, and there’s an elf-only pub in the Garden Quarter my friend Toben was telling me about the other day. Said he made some friends there.”
“You think that’s them?” Rune asks, as the elves come their way, bearing pitcher and mugs.
“Good chance,” the rogue replies as they reach the table.
“You’re Preh?” asks Lia.
“Who wants to know?” the rogue replies, guardedly.
“I am Lia Galanodel, and this is my friend, Theodred. We come seeking Toben, and were told you are his friend. He missed services at the chapel last night and we were worried.”
“Why don’t you just tell everyone who I am, Longpike?” Preh mutters under his breath.
“Preh,” Rune interrupts, “these elves come bearing ale! Please sit, friends,” he motions. “Your kind are rare where I’m from, but I’ve picked up some of your tongue in my travels. Perhaps, you will grant me the opportunity to learn more?”
“Aerdi, if you please,” Preh replies as the elves sit. “I’m not as cosmopolitan as some people,” he glares at Rune.
“Anyway,” Preh continues, accepting a mug from Lia, “Toben told me about his new elven friends. I’m afraid you’ve missed him—he left town on business just yesterday. He’ll probably be back in a week or two.”
“Ah, that’s a relief,” smiles Lia. “I was afraid it might have been us.”
“She means she thought poor Toben was overwhelmed by the ‘elvishness’ of it all at the Star," states Theodred, "what with his mixed blood and all.”
At that moment, the four are interrupted by a young boy with a leather satchel, wearing the livery of Greyhawk’s Union of Couriers and Messengers (a blue sash emblazoned with the image of a hawk in flight).
“Mistah Longpike said I should give this to yah,” he says to Preh, holding forth a sealed note. The rogue, grumbling about Longpike’s willingness to point him out to strangers, sends the lad on his way with a copper common and opens the note. It reads:
To Toben and friends:
An associate of mine was intrigued by your exploits in the Tomb of Blood Everflowing and wishes to discuss a job opportunity. If interested, he’ll be at the Savant in Clerkburg this afternoon. Look for a well-dressed gray elf in one of the private rooms.
-L. Geld
Preh surmises that the note is from Lazzarin Geld, the mapmaker who helped him, Nico, Toben, Galena, and Verben discover the location of the Tomb of Blood Everflowing a few months back. The rogue silently ponders the note for a moment, then ponders his table mates. With Meg having Nico on a tight schedule, Toben being out of town, Verben busy at the Temple of Pelor, and Galena and Fredricka being hard to track down, the decision seems clear—especially since this potential new patron also seems to be an elf.
“So,” Preh says, “Anyone have plans this afternoon?”
Session 11, October 3rd, 2021. Rob, Jason, Jake, Molly, and Mike present.
Dramatis Personae:
Lia Galanodel, Chaotic Good female wood elf cleric of Corellon Larethian, from the Gnarley Forest, several days west of Greyhawk (Molly). Age 144 (about 24 in human years). Long red hair, green eyes, fair skin. 5', 110 lbs. Blue robes, breastplate, heavy darkwood shield, longsword, longbow.
Preh, Chaotic Neutral human male rogue of Greyhawk. Age 18, 5’5”, 135 lbs, red hair, green eyes. (Jason). Age 18. Short red hair, green eyes. 5',5", about 135 lbs. Mithral shirt, rapier, quiver of darts.
Rune Ulfricsson, Chaotic Good male human Barbarian 1/Bard 2 of the Frost Barbarians (Jacob). Age 27. Shoulder-length auburn hair, beard, green eyes, fair skin. 6'3", 215 lbs. Chain shirt, battleaxe, greatsword, shortbow.
Theodred, Neutral Good male gray elf wizard 3 of Celene (Mike). Age 130 (22 in human years). Long silver hair, blue eyes, pale skin. 5'8", 130 lbs. Foppish clothes, longsword, longbow.
Late morning, Waterday, Reaping 12th, 594 CY. The Blue Dragon Inn's taproom, Free City of Greyhawk.
Preh fills the others in on Geld’s note, and the three agree to go to the Savant with him. Theodred informs the group the the Savant is a tavern on University Street in Clerkburg popular with the academic set. The four finish their ale and exit the Blue Dragon. As they leave Cairn Court, they take a right on Horseshoe road, heading east until reaching the Processional, the great avenue bisecting Greyhawk. The group takes a left onto the Processional, heading North, then turns right onto University Street entering Clerkburg. They pass the grounds of both Grey College and the Bardschool, cross the Bridge of Entwined Hearts, then take a path to the right, following the Millstream until arriving at a stately mansion.
“This is it?” asks Rune.
“Yes,” says Theodred. “Word has it that it used to be the residence of Grey College’s chancellor, before it was put to better use.”
The four enter the building, finding themselves in a large room filled with numerous bookshelves stocked with weathered tomes. A wide, short set of stairs descend into a large room with a wooden bar at the back. A handful of middle-aged and old men sit at the bar and the three tables in the room’s center, reading, or engaged in quiet conversation. The woodwork is dark and simply hewn, but graceful and stylish. A handful of narrow corridors lead from the room. A middle-aged human in simple, yet tidy, clothing sits at a podium near the entrance.
“Welcome to the Savant,” the host says. “How may I be of service?” From the man's tone, it’s quite obvious that they look out of place.
“Um, what kinds of books do you sell?” asks Rune.
“Oh, we don’t sell books here, lad. This is a tavern. The books are just for browsing. By our more, um, educated clientele.”
“We’re actually here to see someone,” interrupts Theodred. “An elf. Like us,” he says, pointing to himself and Lia.
“I see,” replies the host. “You’ll find him one floor above. Down that hall,” he motions, “and up the stairs.”
The four follow the man’s directions, heading down a dimly lit hall lined with more bookshelves. The next floor is a veritable maze of small rooms and nooks, each containing a table, chairs, and an oil lamp for reading. They finally stop at a room with a half-opened door, a well-dressed gray elf sitting at a table within.
“Don’t just stand out there lollygagging,” the elf says. “Come in.”
The four shuffle into the room. The elf has long silver hair and violet eyes, and wears foppish garb of blue with black accents, with a wide-brimmed hat sporting a single feather. The table he sits at is laden with several bottles and wine glasses, as well as trays of fruit, cheese, breads, and cured meats.
“Well,” he says, “from what Geld said, I was expecting just half an elf, not four times that!”
“There’ve been some last-minute personnel changes,” says Preh.
“No matter,” says the elf. “You should suffice. Please, sit and partake of the refreshments. The wine is especially good—it’s from my own stock.”
The four sit and fill their glasses, noting the label on the bottle features a prominent black skull. They find the dark libation sweet, like elven wine, but with a somewhat unusual earthy aftertaste.
“Please allow me to introduce myself,” the elf continues, “my name is Moredhel Deimos, but most—especially humans—find my title, Lord Dunsith, much easier to remember.”
“I’m Rune,” says the barbarian, biting into a whitish, cone-shaped galda fruit, “and this is Preh, Lia, and Theodred.”
“Well met,” replies Dunsith. “Anyway, the reason for this meeting is that a few weeks back, one of my contractors—Janne Clover, of the Clover Trading Company—left Greyhawk to deliver my goods to several villages and hamlets along the River Road and Ery Trail. She was due back in Greyhawk a week ago to pick up another shipment bound for Diamond Lake, but has yet to arrive.”
“What kind of goods,” asks Lia, spreading blue usk fruit jam on a slice of bread.
“Why, wine and spirits, obviously.”
“Obviously,” says Preh, chewing a mouthful of smoked eel.
“You think she absconded with your wine?” asks Theodred, slicing open a brown, squarish, kara fruit.
“No, that’s already paid for,” replies Dunsith. “Janne’s always been reliable, and new business relationships are often risky. I’d like to insure that no misfortune has befallen her before I seek out a permanent replacement.”
“What route did she take?” asks Rune.
“They usually follow the River Road down to Ford Keep,” says Dunsith, “then Two Ford, then they follow the Ery River west to Blackfair Manor, then Erybend, before taking the Ery Trail north to Cherry Knoll and the Fork, before returning to Greyhawk.”
“What would you be paying us?” asks Theodred.
“I’m prepard to offer you 300 gold orbs for Janne’s safe return,” Dunsith replies. “Less, of course, if it is proven that she’s met with ill fortune.”
Rune, Lia, Preh, and Theodred look at each other and quickly nod in agreement. “We agree to your terms, Lord Dunsith,” say Rune.
“Very well, then,” replies Dunsith, rising. “I would suggest that you leave on the morrow. That should provide ample time to prepare for your journey.”
Taking his cue, the others rise from the table as well.
“Thank you for the opportunity, Lord Dunsith,” says Rune, offering his hand. As the elf reaches forward, the barbarian notes that he wears a silver ring bearing what looks to be an eight-pointed star.
“I shall expect to hear from you within a week or so. You may leave word with Lazzarin Geld.”
As soon as they exit the Savant, the four begin conversing on their walk back toward the Processional.
“Any of you notice his ring?” asks Rune.
“Yeah,” says Preh. “Looks like an eight-pointed star.”
“Anyone know if it has any special meaning?” asks Lia.
“I didn’t notice, myself,” says Theodred, but it sounds like a symbol used by a group called ‘the Seekers.’”
“The Seekers?” asks Preh.
“‘The Seekers of the Arcane,’ officially,” replies the mage. “A loose coalition of explorers, scholars, and treasure hunters, many of whom are known to have questionable reputations.”
“In that case,” says Rune, “we should probably be cautious in our future dealings with him.”
Upon reaching the Processional, the group agree to meet an hour after sunrise tomorrow outside the Druid’s Gate in Artisan’s Quarter, as they plan to follow Janne’s route in reverse, hoping to catch her on her way back to Greyhawk. They then part ways, each going to make their preparations for the journey. In addition, Preh and Lia check in with their superiors in the Thieves’ Guild and Chapel of Corellon, respectively, informing them that they won’t be available for the next week or so. Luckily, both Tirra at the guild and Narcoriel at the chapel are amicable.
Earthday, Reaping 13th, 594 CY, Free City of Greyhawk
As planned, Lia, Preh, Rune, and Theodred (all on horseback) meet outside the Druid’s Gate an hour past sunrise. As they ride down the Ery Trail, Preh points out a large cluster of trees immediately to their left, noting that it conceals a hill atop which sits Greyhawk’s Stonering, one of the oldest stone circles in the Flanaess.
“Local druids hold their seasonal moots there,” says the rogue.
“Which explains why the closest city gate is named for them, I suppose,” replies Rune.
The party rides along the trail for much of the morning, stopping at several hamlets along the way inquiring about Janne Clover. Unfortunately, none have seen her.
“It may have helped if we’d asked Lord Dunsith for a description of her before leaving the Savant yesterday,” says Rune.
“A minor oversight,” notes Theodred. “This is one of her regular routes, and everyone we’ve asked does seem to know who she is, even if they haven’t seen her lately.”
That afternoon, the party stops at the Fork, one of the major villages along the Ery Trail. Although the proprietor of the local tavern has not seen Janne, the party stays for lunch before continuing south. After about an hour, Lia notes that they’re being followed. The others turn to see a lone rider waving at them.
Curious, the party stops and waits for the rider to catch up. Minutes later, they find their tail to be a nondescript young human on horseback. The young man looks to be about six feet tall, with tanned skin, medium-length brown hair, and matching eyes. He’s clad in leather armor, and has a club hanging from his belt and a wooded shield hanging from his saddle. They recognize him as the stableboy at the tavern they just left.
“Hallo,” the young man says. “Sorry t’be eavedroppin’, but I heard at the tavern yeh were lookin’ for Miss Janne.”
“What concern is it of yours?” glares Theodred.
“Well, I was hoppin’ to be of service in helpin’ t’find ‘er,” replies the young man. “I know Miss Janne’s overdue in passin’ through, and the fact that there’s people out lookin’ for ‘er makes me fear she could be in danger.”
“Why would you think she’s in danger?” asks Lia.
“Well, why else would someone come lookin’ for her when she’s runnin’ late, unless they thought somthin’ was amiss?”
“Do you have any idea where she might possibly be?” asks Rune.
“Well, no,” the young man blushes, “but I was hopin to join yeh in th’ search.”
“Why?” asks Preh.
“Well, Miss Janne’s always been nice t’me, and besides,” he adds defiantly, “it’s the right thing t’do.”
“Sounds like the lad’s a bit sweet on Jane,” whispers Rune. “What’s your name, boy?”
“Willem,” the young man says. “Willem Millersson. But most people jus’ call me Will.”
“I am Rune, and my companions are Preh, Lia, and Theodred. Do you know how to use that stick, lad?”
“Well, I used it last year to beat off a few goblins?”
“You what?” asks Theodred, amused.
“Goblins. Several attempted to raid the family farm. I helped beat them off.”
“You did what?” asks Theodred.
“Stop it,” admonishes Lia. “He obviously saved his farm from goblin raiders.”
“I can also help look afer yer horses, too,” adds Willem.
“Can you also bea. . .”
“Enough, Theo,” says Lia, irritated. “I say we let Willem come along. It would be nice to have someone along who’s good with horses.”
“And who knows how to beat off goblins,” adds Preh, grinning.
Lia glares at Preh while Rune and Theodred nod in agreement.
“Good to have you, Will,” says Rune. “We’d best get going. We’re burning daylight.”
Lia, Preh, Rune, Theodred, and Willem continue riding south on the Ery Trail. By late afternoon, while riding through a wooded area along the trail, the party spots a trio of men standing on the road about 200 feet ahead. A small man in a rose-colored cloak appears to be engaged in conversation with two burley armed men in chainmail covered by yellow surcoats bearing a green symbol of some sort, but the party is too far away to make out what it is. One of the larger men carries a halberd, while the other a longspear. The smaller man hands a pouch to the man with the spear, who opens the pouch and inspects its contents, then nods to the man with the halberd, who suddenly raises his weapon and beheads the smaller man! Unsure of what exactly is going on, the party slowly begins riding forward. The two men spot their approach, keeping their weapons at ready.
“Hail,” says Rune, stopping about forty feet away. He sees that the green symbol on their tabards is a three-leaved clover.” “What’s happened here?”
The man with the halberd, a broad-shouldered human in his late twenties, with long, dark hair pulled back in a braid, speaks.
“My friend Laisis and I were scouting for bandits ahead of our caravan. We found one,” he gestures toward the corpse.
“Really?” says Rune, slowly dismounting, but keeping his own weapon sheathed. The barbarian notes that his companions have not advanced quite as far. “He doesn’t look like much of a bandit.”
“He’s not buying it, Ontho,” whispers Laisis, slightly shorter than his companion, with a slender, well-muscled frame, cropped black hair, a short beard, and olive complexion.
“Well, he was,” replies Ontho.
“Seems odd that an unarmed man would try to rob two well-armed and armored warriors like yourselves,” says Rune, noting that Lia, Preh, and Theodred, some twenty paces behind, have also dismounted.
“Obviously, you’re strangers here,” replies Ontho. “Bandits in these parts always hide their weapons. Gives ‘em the element of surprise.”
“Be that as it may, we’re actually looking for someone,” says Rune.
“That symbol on your tabards. . . . You wouldn’t happen to be with the Clover Trading Company, would you?”
“What of it?” replies Ontho.
“We’ve been tasked with finding Janne Clover. You know where she is?”
“She’s fine,” answers Ontho. “She’s the one sent us out looking for bandits.”
“We’d like to see her,” says Rune. “Lord Dunsith is concerned over her tardiness.”
“She’s done with Dunsith,” says Ontho. “Found somone better to work for. I’d suggest you lot move on and tell ‘im that.”
“I’m afraid we need to hear that from Janne herself,” says Rune.
“No can do,” says Ontho, hefting his halberd. “Now, move on before you wind up like this headless bandit here.”
“I was afraid it’d come to this,” replies Rune, drawing his greatsword.
The combat that follows is swift. Preh and Lia move to assist Rune while Theodred supports them with arrows and magic. Preh wounds Laisis before Theodred’s magic missile sends him to the ground. Ontho proves slightly more challenging, dealing a deep wound to Rune, which is quickly healed by Lia. The barbarian retaliates by driving his greatsword deep through Ontho’s chest, killing him instantly.
Noting that Laisis is still alive, Lia treats his wounds, while Preh ties him up, hoping to question him once he regains consciousness.
Searching the men, the group finds a sealed scroll on Otho and a leather pouch on Laisis (the one the murdered man handed him). Theodred (with some difficulty) opens the scroll and reads it to the others:
“Plygar, Here is Shucky the Imp’s fake eye. This was not easy to come by and was obtained with considerable risk. Risk equals cost, as they say. I am being investigated by the local militia, so I had to send a courier. I will return at the next scheduled time, and I expect 1,500 gold orbs or their equivalent in trade goods when next we meet. Finding the marsh again should be no problem. Just have your goons by the marking stones escort me.”
“This must be what he’s talking about,” says Preh, fishing a glazed ceramic eye from the pouch, with a garnet for a pupil. Shucky the Imp was a halfling comedian from Elmshire. I saw his act in Greyhawk a few years back, right before he retired to Elmshire. I heard he died a few weeks ago.”
The group’s conversation is suddenly interrupted by a horrid retching sound. They turn to see Willem vomiting.
“You okay, lad?” asks Rune, as the young man recovers.
“Sorry,” he apologizes, wiping his mouth. “I’ve never seen so much blood. Not even from goblins.”
“Well, beating them off is a bit of a different mess, I’d imagine,” grins Theodred.
Just as Lia is about to rebuke the mage, the group is interrupted by the sound of hoofbeats. Preparing for more trouble, that party is surprised to see about a dozen halflings in green surcoats over leather armor ride up and rein their ponies in about thirty feet away. The one in the lead signals to the party with a wave, saying, “Hail travelers! I am Sherrif Rixin Stoutblood of Elmshire. What has happened here?”
“Just minutes ago,” starts Rune, “we witnessed this man,” he points to Ontho’s body, “murder this one,” he points to the headless man in the rose-colored cloak. “A battle quickly ensued, which did not end well for the murderer. His accomplice survived, and we took him prisoner.”
“You’re a long way from Elmshire,” notes Preh.
“We’re tracking graverobbers,” replies Stoutblood. “We caught a man named Jellegin Walgar a few days ago that we believe to be involved. His accomplice escaped though. A man named Seth. He was wearing a rose-colored cloak—like that one,” he points to the headless corpse.
After a brief discussion, the party agrees to turn over Seth’s body (and head) to the halflings. They also turn over the scroll and false eye. Stoutblood seems unconcerned with the Clover guards, noting that he feels justice has been served. The halflings load their burden and leave, with Stoutblood tossing them a pouch filled with 50 gold orbs for their aid.
Lia, Rune, Preh, and Theodred return to the subject of the Clover guards. They decide to hide Ontho’s body in the underbrush, and move Laisis off the road, out of sight of any passers-by.
“I suspect the guards may have kidnapped Janne, at the insistence of this ‘Plygar’ person mentioned in the scroll,” says Rune.
“I wonder how the graverobbers are connected?” muses Lia.
“The scroll did mention some ‘marking stones,’” says Theodred. “Perhaps we should look for those.”
“I think I’ve found them,” says Preh, pointing to a pair of smooth, gray stones by the roadside, about a dozen yards away. They seem to mark a faint trail leading eastward through the forest. The party has Willem stay behind with the horse while they inspect the trail, finding that it widens after about one hundred feet, at which point Rune notes a makeshift path of trampled undergrowth heading north.
Following the makeshift path, Rune, Preh, lia, Theodred, and Willem find that it leads to a campsite surrounded by a wall of five-foot wooden stakes. Within, they see a couple of bedrolls, various camping supplies, and a wagon marked with a green clover and the words “Clover Trading Company.” Nearby are a pair of draft horses.
“How many guards does Janne usually travel with, Willem?” asks Theodred.
“About a dozen or so, I’d guess,” the young man replies.
“They have horses?” asks Rune.
“No, there’s just the horses that pull the wagon. T’others walk.”
“I wonder where the others are?” asks Lia.
No one notices Preh slips away while the others explore the camp. The wagon is virtually empty, containing only a few tools and basic camping gear. Preh soon returns, carrying some rope.
“Looks like you found some rope,” says Willem.
“Uh, yeah,” replies the rogue, handing it to Rune. “It was a few yards back that way.”
After a brief discussion, the group decides to leave the camp and follow the trail leading east. After about a mile, the trail is split by an enormous tree, both forks of the path rejoining on the other side. Before the tree sits an ivy-covered slab of pale stone, atop which sits a weathered statue of an elf battling a troll. The statue captures the moment when he elf gracefully sidesteps the troll’s attack and slips his blade into the creature’s heart. Moving aside the ivy, the group finds an inscription in Elvish carved into the base.
“Aul Ansrivarr Ath thas talant nesh Tel' martime' Ath Ivae. Arta bren men, Ar kallo' pan Tel' sarda lor nae tyelde Al halora nevae. Rell faire' nehel'feer Talas desha siilen ilya ik azae veris ha Ath Al bauglir rysar,” reads Lia.
“What’s that mean?” asks Preh.
“In memory of those fallen for the cause of light. On this spot, great heroes began the hard march to abolish a fierce darkness. Many sacrificed themselves so that others might live free of a tyrant’s reign,” replies Theodred.
“Anyone know what that refers to?” asks Rune.
“No clue,” says Lia. “Probably a battle that took place here long ago.”
“Look over there,” says Preh, pointing to a stack of large, moss-covered stones nearby.
“Hmmm,” says Rune. “I’d wager those are catapult stones, long abandoned.”
The party continues heading east. Further on, they note the stench of carrion and a cloud of flies not far off the trail. Investigating, they find the decomposing bodies of six poorly-equiped orcs.
“Looks like they’ve been dead awhile,” notes Lia.
“Judging by their wounds,” says Rune, “I’d wager this is the work of wolves.”
“that might explain the fortifications at the Clover camp,” says Theodred.
“Indeed,” agrees the barbarian. “It’s getting dark. We’d best head back.”
The party returns to the Clover camp for the night, agreeing to continue their explorations in the morning.
Freeday, Reaping 14, 594 CY
Lia, Preh, Rune, and Theodred awake that morning and decide to leave Willem at the Clover camp to care for the horses while they continue east on foot, passing the statue they encountered the day before.
Eventually, they reach a section of trail where it suddenly widens, becoming an ancient road of dark, tightly-fitted gray stones. The paved portion continues for about 100 yards or so before becoming once again overgrown and obscured by dirt and vegetation.
“Obviously this trail was once an important road,” notes Rune.
“Likely leading to some long-forgotten fortress of a local warlord,” says Lia.
“Who pissed off the wrong elves,” adds Theodred, alluding to the statue.
Continuing on, the four soon spot a large, white, male wolf 50 yards ahead, lying on a nearby hillside. The creature lazily gets up, stretches, then casually walks to the trail, where it sits about 20 yards before the party. Suddenly, Lia, Preh, Rune, and Theodred find their minds overwhelmed with emotions and visions. They quickly ascertain that the wolf is trying to communicate with them, filling their minds with an image of the wolf itself, followed by an image of a thornbush covered with tufts of white hair.
“Are you trying to tell us your name?” asks Rune, to which the wolf nods in the affirmative.
After a few failures, the wolf gives up on trying to communicate its name to the party, and motions for them to follow. He leads them about a mile before leading them along a side path heading south. After another mile or so, the path forks, and the wolf leads the party along the right fork, heading southwest. After a little over a mile, the path opens up to a large clearing filled with wildflowers and several beehives, where a sod dwelling has been carved into a hillside. Several more wolves peer outside the doorway, then dart back inside. Cautiously, the party follows the white wolf inside, where they find a spacious home with a plank table, two benches, a sleeping pallet, a cistern of water, and a cupboard. Dusty wooden bowls and spoons, terracotta pottery, and various other bric-a-brac adorn the room. Eight additional adult wolves and four pups warily eye the party as they enter.
“Someone lived here once,” notes Preh.
“Someone with two legs, you mean?” asks Lia.
“Probably a druid, judging by the communication skills of our alabaster friend,” says Theodred, nodding toward the white wolf.
“A lot of the dinnerware is dusty, so he’s probably been gone awhile,” says Rune. “Or it could be traveling druids in the region use this house as a stopover.”
The party sits down at the table while the white wolf begins telling it empathically why it brought them here, filling their minds with images of a twisted, one-eyed hunchback who dammed up a nearby swamp and flooded several areas of the forest, including a nearby ant hill populated by giant ants. He also tells them of a massive, malevolent carnivorous vine that has choked the life from several forest creatures.
“Did you see that hunchback has one eye?” Theodred asks his companions.
“I bet that’s the ‘Plygar’ mentioned in that note we found on the Clover guards,” says Preh.
“Do you want us to take care of these problems for you?” asks Lia, to which the wolf nods.
“Very well, but we have come here seeking a woman, who may have been kidnapped by this ‘twisted man’ you showed us,” says Rune to the wolf.
“Have you seen her?” The wolf nods once more.
“If we help you, will you show us where she is?” asks the barbarian, to which the wolf nods once more.
“Very well,” says Rune, rising. “Show us where we can find this choking vine creature.”
Rune, Lia, Preh, and Theodred follow the white wolf for about a mile uphill. At the crest, draped over a copse of evergreens, is a great vine, some sixty feet long and one foot thick, from which hangs eight smaller, tentacle-like vines. The whole thing shudders in anticipation as the party approaches.
“I’ve read of these things,” says Theodred, reaching into his component pouch. “They’re called choke creepers. They’re unintelligent, but don’t let it get wrapped around your neck.”
“Let me guess,” says Preh, drawing his rapier, “Because it’ll choke us to death?”
The banter is soon cut to an end as the party engages the creature in combat.
“Sahandrian!” cries Lia, gesturing and bringing forth a longsword of glowing blue force floating in the air.
“Eldreth velutha!” She gestures again, as the blade streaks toward the creature and begins to attack it.
“You’ll need this,” says Theodred to Rune, throwing a pinch of powdered iron in the air and gesturing toward the barbarian. “Anosrep atalid!” Rune grunts as he grows to twice his height, his equipment growing with him.
“Kord faera sigur!” screams Rune, flying into a rage and drawing his greatsword as he charges toward the creature.
The battle that follows is hard fought. Preh pelts the creeper with a flask of alchemist’s fire, finding it has little effect, before moving in to engage the beast in melee. Theodred provides support with spells and arrows. Lia backs up Rune and Preh with healing and bowfire before wading into melee with her sword once her spiritual weapon dissipates. Rune nearly falls (twice) when the creature wraps its tendrils around his larynx, but he and Lia are able to sever the vines both times. The white wolf even rushes in to aid the barbarian, but fails specatularly. Eventually, howver, all eight of the choke creeper’s tendrils are severed, leaving the creature defenseless. After much hacking, the main vine is destroyed.
Wounded, weary, and low on spells, the party returns to wolves’ hovel to rest and recuperate. The white wolf and the other adult males leave for a while, returning later with enough rabbits to feed everyone. The canines watch curiously as the party starts a fire and cooks the rabbits. After a hearty meal the party spends some time playing with the wolf pups before calling it a night, planning to follow the white wolf to Janne the next day.
Session 12, November 7th, 2021. Rob, Jason, Jake, Molly, and Mike present.
Dramatis Personae:
Lia Galanodel, Chaotic Good female wood elf cleric of Corellon Larethian, from the Gnarley Forest, several days west of Greyhawk (Molly). Age 144 (about 24 in human years). Long red hair, green eyes, fair skin. 5', 110 lbs. Blue robes, breastplate, heavy darkwood shield, longsword, longbow.
Preh, Chaotic Neutral human male rogue of Greyhawk. Age 18, 5’5”, 135 lbs, red hair, green eyes. (Jason). Age 18. Short red hair, green eyes. 5',5", about 135 lbs. Mithral shirt, dark clothing, rapier, quiver of darts.
Rune Ulfricsson, Chaotic Good male human Barbarian 1/Bard 2 of the Frost Barbarians (Jacob). Age 27. Shoulder-length auburn hair, beard, green eyes, fair skin. 6'3", 215 lbs. Chain shirt, battleaxe, greatsword, shortbow.
Theodred, Neutral Good male gray elf wizard 3 of Celene (Mike). Age 130 (22 in human years). Long silver hair, blue eyes, pale skin. 5'8", 130 lbs. Foppish clothes, longsword, longbow.
Morning, Starday, Reaping 15th, 594 CY. Former druidic home/wolf lair in a small forested area between the Ery Trail and Ery River.
Lia, Preh, Rune, and Theodred awake that morning in the druidic hovel to find that the wolves again have gifted them with rabbits. The sky is overcast and a light fog hangs in the air. Theodred memorizes his spells while the others prepare the rabbits (Lia prayed for her spells the night before). After a quick breakfast, the white wolf leads the party about three miles, back to the fork in the main trail, and they turn right, heading east.
After about three more miles, the forest path opens up to a great marsh. The party’s ears are filled by the sounds of marsh birds, frogs, and buzzing insects, and their nostrils by the smell of moist decay.
“I’d say this is the ‘marsh’ referred to in the late Seth’s note,” says Theodred, referring to the courier whose murder they witnessed two days before.
“Looks more like a lake with marshy islands to me,” notes Preh.
“Hard to tell exactly how big it is,” adds Rune. “can’t really get a clear view with all these reeds.”
To the left of the trail, some distance away, lies an old trash heap. Broken furniture, scraps of old canvas, and rotted wood lie among hunks of rusted iron, the remains of an old wagon, and a smattering of copper coins. A makeshift bridge of wood scraps leads to the nearest isle, a muddy path clearly visible through the reeds.
Lia turns to the white wolf and points toward the path. “Is that where we’ll find Janne?”
The wolf nods and sits on his haunches.
“It looks like he intends to wait for us here,” says Rune. “Preh, why don’t you scout ahead and see if this ‘Plygar’ has posted any guards?”
The rogue nods and slips down the path, returning several minutes later.
“Two men up ahead, in Clover livery,” reports the rogue. “They look to be guarding some kind of wooden contraption—lots of ropes and pulleys on it. Looks like the dam our furry friend was referring to.”
“Only two guards?” says Rune. “Let’s start with the direct approach—see if they’re willing to talk.”
Rune takes the path, while Preh, Lia, and Theodred follow at a distance. After about 350 yards, they come upon a rough clearing where sits an elaborate dam of earth and scrap wood half-hidden among the reeds. Incorprated into the dam are a set of cleverly-constructed floodgates, operated by a complex series of ropes and levers. The path continues past the damn, crossing another makeshift bridge before disappearing among the reeds. Two human guards in chainmail and Clover livery raise their crossbows as the party approaches.
“Halt! Who goes there!” barks the older of the two—a bald, burly man of about thirty years with tanned skin.
“Greetings, friend,” begins Rune. “I am Rune, and these are my companions, Preh, Lia, and Theodred. I see by your tabbards that the two of you work for the Clover Trading Company. We come seeking your employer, Janne Clover, at the behest of her business partner, Lord Dunsith.”
“Miss Janne is just fine,” says the other guard, a narrowly built man around twenty, with scruffy brown hair and a jagged scar down one cheek. “Tell Lord Dunsith he need not worry.”
“Well, she was due back in Greyhawk a week ago,” adds Lia. “Dunsith had to hire someone else to deliver his next shipment.”
“Janne has decided to break with Dunsith,” replies the older man. “She’s working with Plygar, now.”
“Tell us about this ‘Plygar’,” says Theodred.
“Plygar is a great man,” says the younger guard. “These are his lands, and he needed our help to build these floodgates, which we were happy to do.”
“Enough, Porlow!” scolds the older guard.
“Why did he need the floodgates built?” asks Preh.
“Ours is not to question the word of a great man such as Plygar,” replies the older guard. “He simply needed help, which the Clover Trading Company was happy to give.”
“Something’s not right,” whispers Theodred. “I suspect these two have been ensorcelled.”
“Well, we would like to see Janne,” says Rune. “We’d like to make sure she’s okay before we leave.
“Impossible,” says the older guard. “Plygar has insisted that no one enter his lands.”
“I could take her a message, Fredrick,” says the younger guard. “If Lord Dunsith really did send them, she might want to know.”
Fredrick rubs his chin, as if weighing the odds. “Fine. Go, Porlow. Tell Plygar and Miss Janne everything.”
The younger man nods and disappears into the reeds.
“He’ll be awhile,” says Fredrick. “Plygar’s home is some distance from here, and the terrain is quite rough.”
After about an hour, Porlow returns with six more chainmail-clad guards in clover livery. A man in his late forties with slate-gray hair and a rugged complexion appears to be their leader. A fine longsword in a scabbard of scaly blue leather hangs at his hip.
“I am Khelsor Stormdancer, and I command these men,” he says. “I understand you wish to see Miss Janne. I regret to inform you that she wishes to remain at Plygar’s side, as she does not know you. She does hope that you will pass her regrets on to Lord Dunsith as you leave.”
Realizing they are now outnumbered, the party decides to retreat back to the forest and formulate a new plan. At the forest’s edge, they see the white wolf waiting expectantly.
“So is that it?” asks Preh.
“Well, we did promise the wolf we’d take care of Plygar,” says Theodred.
“Yes, I don’t think Lord Dunsith would want us to leave Janne in the clutches of a hunchback enchanter,” says Rune. He turns to the wolf. “Can you take something to our friend at the camp where the horses are?”
The wolf nods, and Rune, pulls a quill, sheet of parchment, and vial of ink from his satchel. “I will write a missive to Willem, for him to return to Greyhawk, look for Lord Dunsith at the Savant Tavern, and let him know where Janne is. While we, meanwhile, attempt to free her from the clutches of this odious hunchback.”
The others nod in agreement. Rune finishes the letter, puts it in a pouch with twenty gold orbs, then ties the pouch around the beast’s neck and wishes him well. The party then begins planning their assault.
Lia, Preh, Rune, and Theodred wait until dusk. Preh scouts ahead, reporting that six guards now guard the floodgates—two on the walkway above the dam, and four on the ground (including Fredrick and Porlow). Lia casts a silence spell on one of Preh’s darts, and Preh and Theodred go ahead, sneaking behind the cover of reeds. Rune and Lia take the direct approach, distracting the guards while Preh takes down one of the them on the walkway with his silenced dart. Preh climbs up on the walkway, removes his dart from the downed guard and throws it at the other on the walkway, but misses, which alerts the guard, who cries out and starts sawing at a rope holding one of the floodgates. Meanwhile, Rune and Lia engage the four guards on the ground.
Theodred hits the guard cutting the ropes with a magic missile, but he remains intent on his purpose, finishing that rope and moving to another, as water rushes through the open gate. Preh draws his rapier and rushes forward, taking out the guard, but not before the man cuts through another rope. Theodred tries using a sleep spell on two of the guards fighting Lia and Rune, but they resist his magic. About that time, Rune strikes a mighty blow upon Fredrick, beheading him. Preh picks up the crossbow of the guard he just defeated and provides supporting fire for Lia and Rune, while Theodred does the same with his bow. Shortly afterward, Porlow and the other two guards are defeated. Knowing the men are under an enchantment, the party binds the wounds of the five unconscious survivors and tie them up.
After tending to their own wounds, the party examines the floodgates more closely. Theodred determines that they were constructed to raise the water level, and if all eight were opened at once, it could result in serious damage not only to the denizens of the forest, but residents of nearby settlements. Using their expertise and muscle, as well as some extra rope and a few mending spells, Rune, Theodred, and Preh work on repairing the damaged floodgates and closing them, while Lia keeps watch for reinforcements. The party manages to get one of the gates back into place before Lia alerts them to the light from approaching torches.
Greatsword at ready, Rune moves to the muddy ground while the others remain on the walkway, Preh with the crossbow taken from one of the guards, and the elves with their bows at ready. Soon Khelsor Stormdancer and six more Clover guards arrive, firing their crossbows then moving through the swampy morass to engage Rune in melee. Theodred casts color spray, knocking two of the guards unconscious, then falls back to using his bow, joining Lia and Preh in supporting Rune with missile fire.
Noting that Khelsor seems to be an experienced combatant, and that his sword crackles with electricity whenever he lands a blow, Lia descends the platform and moves to join Rune on the ground. Preh soon follows suit, while Theodred continues to fire his bow into the melee. Rune falls a couple of times, but is brought back from the brink by the healing magic of potions or spells. As the tide begins to turn against the Clover guards, two try to retreat toward the eastern bridge leading deeper into the marsh, but Lia spins and catches one full in the gut on her longsword, while Preh flings a dart at the other, who collapses on the bridge. Eventually, Khelsor and the other guards are defeated as well.
The party then tend to their wounds and stabilize the guards, though the one Lia stabbed through the gut is beyond help, as is the one Preh hit with a dart, who has bled out on the bridge. After Lia claims Khelsor’s magic longsword, the party ties up their prisoners, then repairs the other floodgate. With darkness quickly approaching, the adventurers deem it best to set up camp for the night. Their ten prisoners are transported to the edge of the forest, where await the white wolf and several members of his pack. In return for guarding the prisoners, Rune feeds the three dead guards to the wolves. Over a meal of hardtack and jerky, the group takes a closer look at Khelsor’s magic longsword, noting the fanciful scrollwork etched into the blade, and Theodred identifies the scaley blue hide on the grip as that of a blue dragon. The party soon turns in, vowing to continue their search for both Janne and Plygar on the morrow.
Session 13, November 21st, 2021. Rob, Jason, Jake, Molly, and Mike present.
Dramatis Personae:
Lia Galanodel, Chaotic Good female wood elf cleric of Corellon Larethian, from the Gnarley Forest (Molly). Age 144 (about 24 in human years). Long red hair, green eyes, fair skin. 5', 110 lbs. Blue robes, breastplate, heavy darkwood shield, longsword, longbow. Covered in dried blood and swamp mud.
Preh, Chaotic Neutral human male rogue of Greyhawk. (Jason). Age 18. Short red hair, green eyes. 5',5", about 135 lbs. Mithral shirt, dark clothing, rapier, quiver of darts. Covered in swamp mud and a little less dried blood than Lia.
Rune Ulfricsson, Chaotic Good male human Barbarian 1/Bard 2 of the Frost Barbarians (Jacob). Age 27. Shoulder-length auburn hair, beard, green eyes, fair skin. 6'3", 215 lbs. Chain shirt, battleaxe, greatsword, shortbow. Covered in swamp mud and more dried blood than Lia.
Theodred, Neutral Good male gray elf wizard 3 of Celene (Mike). Age 130 (22 in human years). Long silver hair, blue eyes, pale skin. 5'8", 130 lbs. Foppish clothes, longsword, longbow. Covered in swamp mud, but very little dried blood.
Morning, Sunday, Reaping 16th, 594 CY, in a small marsh between the Ery Trail and Ery River.
Lia, Preh, Rune, and Theodred awake to a light sprinkling of rain that morning. After eating, Rune and Preh pack up while Theodred studies his spellbook and Lia sees to the welfare of the prisoners, carefully watched over by theie wolf allies. They soon hear a familiar voice from the direction of the forest.
“Mister Rune? Mister Rune? Oh, there you are!”
Rune and the others are surprised to see Willem coming up the path.
“Pardon, milords and lady, but dusk was quickly approaching when I got your message from Thornfur . . .”
“Thornfur?” asks Rune.
“Well, the talkin’ white wolf, of course!” replies the young man.
“That’s the name he told me. Well, not really ‘told’ as in speaking, but more like the images placed in the mind thing that he does.”
“And here we’ve been calling him ‘the white wolf’ all this time,” murmers Preh. “You’d think at least one of us might’ve figured it out when when he showed us the images of wolf fur caught on a thornbush.”
“I’m not so good with animals,” notes Theodred. “But I’d go with ‘Whitey,’ or ‘Whiteboy,’ myself.”
“Anyway,” Willem continues, “dusk wasn’t far off, so I thought it best to stay put with the horses for the night, and then leave this morning.”
“So, why are you here?” asks Rune.
The youth looks confused. “Well, um, your message, of course. I assumed it said you wanted me to join you and the twenty orbs was me payment.”
“Assumed?” asks Lia.
Willem blushes. “Well, um, y’see, milady, I’m not to good w’me letters, an I thought ye jus’ needed me help.”
Rune sighs. “Sorry, Willem, I should’ve known. We had actually intended for you to take a message to Greyhawk, but that can wait. While you’re here, you might help with guarding the prisoners,” Rune gestures toward the bound Clover guards, secured in a copse of trees a few dozen feet away.
“Those are Miss Janne’s men,” he exclaims, “And three of them are. . . . Oh, gods, I think I’m gonna be . . .” Willem rushes to edge of the marsh and vomits into the water.
Once the lad recovers, Rune explains.
“We found these men to be ensorcelled, Willem. They attacked us and we had to defend ourselves. Unfortunately, there were casualties, as is often the case in battle.”
“Actually,” starts Theodred, “it was we who technically. . . .”
“Prevented additional casualties,” interrupts Preh. “It was a tough battle and more might’ve died if not for Theodred’s sleep spell.”
“But they’re half-eaten!” says Willem.
“Yes, well, that was the wolves,” says Rune. “Thornfur and the others helped us find where Janne is being held, and it didn’t seem right to deny them a meal when they began chewing on one of the fellows who attacked us. We can’t really hold them to the same standards of human—or elven—morality, Willem. Cycle of life and all that.”
At that moment, the party is interrupted by another voice, this one female.
“Hello! My name is Janne Clover and I’m ready to return to Lord Dunsith. I demand to be escorted to my wagon!”
Emerging from the path through the marsh reeds is an attractive woman in her early thirties, about five feet tall, with raven hair, and green eyes. She wears a green dress, riding boots, and a wide-brimmed straw hat. A medallion bearing the badge of her house (a green clover on a gold field) hangs about her neck. Her clothing and person show signs of a long trek through the mud.
“Miss Janne!” says Willem, confirming the woman’s identity. I’m so glad to see you safe!”
“Oh. Willem, was it? From Two Forks? Thank you for your concern. Now then,” Janne says, addressing the party, “I demand you escort me to Greyhawk. And my guards—I see most of them are alive, if in sorry shape. We feared them all slain. And . . .” Janne’s tirade stops when her eyes fall upon the half-eaten corpses of Fredrick and the other two guards. “In Pelor’s name, did you really have to so callously fed the corpses of the others those dread forest beasts? What savages!”
“The wolves helped us find you,” stammers Rune. “And they were hungry, and it kind of just . . . happened.”
“Nevermind,” Janne snaps. “Their possessions should be gathered so that I may return any personal effects to their families. I’ll be speaking with Dunsith about this, you mark my word! My surviving guards should join me as well, especially Khelsor, my captain. He’ll also be wanting his sword back, elf-girl. Seciril has been in his family for many years.”
Thrown by Janne’s sudden appearance, the party is uncertain how to proceed. They immediately decide against leaving, feeling that Plygar sent Janne out to get them to leave the area. Lia also decides to hang on to Seciril, at least for now. After a bit of discussion, they decide that Willem will escort Janne to the Clover camp, while her guards stay behind, watched over by Thornfur and the other wolves. After Willem and Janne leave, Lia, Preh, Rune, and Theodred will deal with Plygar.
By the time Willem and Janne are well out of earshot, Lia, Preh, Rune, and Theodred have finished breaking camp and ensuring the prisoners are secured. The four follow the narrow, muddy path across the makeshift bridge beyond the floodgates, going north around the eastern edge of the lake. As they approach another makeshift bridge leading two a series of muddy, reed-choked isles crossing the lake, they are taunted by a raspy, unseen voice echoing across the marsh. “Come closer fools, and meet your doom!”
The taunt is quickly followed by a loud explosion muffled by water, accompanied by a large splash on the other side of the nearest isle, resulting in the agitated croaks of frogs and marsh fowl.
“I can’t be sure,” says Theodred, “But I’d wager that was our friend Plygar throwing a thunderstone into the water.”
“Odd way to go about scaring us off,” notes Lia.
With Preh in the lead, followed by Rune, Lia, and Theodred, respectively, the party crosses over to the first reed-choked isle, where they suddenly find themselves attacked by six frogs the size of men!
“I guess that explains the thunderstone!” exclaims Rune, drawing his greatsword.
The party makes short work of the oversized-batrachians, with Lia finding Khelsor’s electrified longsword, Seciril, to be quite helpful. The frogs defeated, the party makes their way to the next bridge. As Preh crosses, the makeshift bridge collapses under his weight, but the nimble rogue manages to leap to safety on the next isle, with a span of water some fifteen feet wide now separating him from his companions. Preh looks closely at the remains the of structure.
“Saw marks,” says the rogue to his companions. “Obviously sabotage.”
“That’s one crafty hunchback,” notes Theodred.
“What now?” says Lia.
“I can’t get much of a running start in this mud,” says Rune, “but I think I can jump it.”
“Oh, great,” says Theodred. “We’ll just wait here while you and Preh go on ahead to take out Plygar by yourselves.”
“We’ll figure out something, Theo,” says Lia. “Let’s see if he can make it first.”
The Frost Barbarian removes his pack, satchel, and all weapons but his dagger, then passes them to Lia, who puts them in her handy haversack. He rubs his hands together, offers a silent prayer to Kord, then attempts the jump, falling a few feet short into the marsh.
“I guess we’ll be taking a swim, then,” says Theodred. “I knew I should’ve brought a suit.”
“Well, it was worth a shot,” Rune shouts. “I didn’t hit bottom, so it’s pretty dee—urk!”
The barbarian’s explanation is cut short as something pulls him under.
The elves draw their bows and Preh (having abandoned the crossbow he used in the battle with the Clover guards) draws a dart, and the three scan the surface for signs of their companion.
Rune surfaces once more, half his body in the maw of a 11’ long fish.
“Giant . . . catfish!” he sputters.
“Yes. We see that now. Thanks!” shouts Theodred, firing at arrow at the beast.
“Sahandrian!” cries Lia, gesturing and bringing forth a longsword of glowing blue force floating in the air. “Eldreth velutha!” She gestures again, as the blade flies into the water and begins attacking the catfish. She then nocks an arrow.
Preh throws a dart at the beast, but has little luck penetrating more than the water’s surface. Rune, meanwhile, finds himself swallowed by the monstrosity, but calls upon the strength of his barbarian ancestors and pulls himself from its gullet, though he remains held fast in its mouth. He draws his dagger and begins stabbing at the creature.
Eventually, between the spiritual weapon, Rune’s dagger, the elves’ arrows, and Preh’s encouragement to his friend to keep fighting, the gigantic fish is slain. Preh helps haul Rune to the island, where the barbarian collapses. The rogue quickly administers a healing potion, bringing his friend back from the brink.
Assured that their ally is safe and seeing no further signs of disturbance in the water, the elves prepare to cross. Lia doffs her breastplate, and places it, her shield, and her weapons (save her dagger) in her handy haversack, then tosses it across the gap, allowing Rune to retrieve his weapons.
“Here, Preh,” the skald says, handing his shortbow and quiver to the rogue. “Use my bow in case another one of those infernal fish attacks the elves as they cross, and I’ll use Lia’s longbow—it’s got a pretty strong draw.”
“But I’ve never used a bow in my life,” protests the young rogue. “I’m a city boy, y’know!”
“Just put the nocked end on the string, and aim the pointy end at anything that comes out of the water.”
The rogue reluctantly buckles on the quiver and nocks an arrow. He and Rune watch as Lia enters the water while Theodred likewise stands ready on the other side. The priestess safely gains the other side. She takes Seciril and her darkwood shield from her handy haversack, straps the sword about her waist, then takes her bow and quiver from Rune. Across the gap, they see Theodred place his short sword, bow, and quiver into his handy haversack, then avert their eyes as he begins stripping down to his smallclothes.