Obsidian Sun - D&D 3.5 Campaign Starting

[DM_Bolan]

Our game is going strong :)

Sessions still every Sunday at 11 AM CST.

https://www.fantasygrounds.com/calendar/?id=294

[DM_Bolan]

Well I'm not seeing a lot of activity on my campaign background so to make it more visible :

Obsidian Sun
Campaign Background
Player Handout #1

“The Loremaster’s Lecture”

Students, I will require your attention!
Students! Quiet! Quiet!

Very good. Now, Let’s get on with our lesson for today. As you know Rockingham General Academy caters to a wide variety of students, some who are native to our fine city and some who have joined us only recently. So for goodness sake, show some respect while I instruct our newer community members on the origins and nature of our city.

Ah, Rockingham. Population 5,350. It is a shining example of Dwarven engineering. Originally, it is said that a great cataclysm shattered the lands, creating the great river and exposing an enormous canyon. Most peculiar is the spherical shape that was ripped from the mountain leaving the site where the city would be born. It was only 500 years ago that the first dwarves found their way to “Howling Rock” as it was called originally.

The first 5 families who settled here started the 5 mines in earnest. Silver, Gold, Adamantine, Iron and Coal veins run all through the mountains here. Where there is coal of course, there are diamonds. If the city were easily accessible by land, it would undoubtedly be overrun with prospectors trying to strike it rich. Nay, the city can be reached by land, a route most treacherous and not suitable for the large carts needed to move large amounts of minerals to prospective buyers.

And ultimately, that fact led to the creation of the stonefloat barge. Our forefathers invented the stonefloats, large enough to carry a load of metals, or coal. They are magically endowed so that when they reach their appointed destination lands, the magic would wither and the boat disassemble itself into useable stone slabs for construction. It would be impossible for the boats, or any boats of that size move upriver back to Rockingham. Thus, the trip is a one way endeavor.

The five original families worked hard and established a strong base of operations here. They each directed their mining in a different direction, some found coal, some found diamonds and all the other minerals. They all found prosperity. They founded fishing and farming areas inside and around the city to supplement their food. They began hunting in earnest, something new to their clans. The settlement grew and mineral treaties assured the continued success of the new city. Some say it was Moradin’s anger that ripped the land apart, but his heart fell kindly on those who came after to reshape the future.

With mining, fishing, hunting, farming, herding going on, it was inevitable that commercial ventures, entertainment and provisions businesses would spring up and those of course led to a large influx of our esteemed friends, the elves, humans, halflings and gnomes and even those of more unusual origin and mixed heritage. So today, you can buy, sell and trade a wide variety of goods, you can take a repost at a fine inn on the waterfront, or enjoy the inns and taverns the city has to offer.

Our city is governed by the right honorable Mayor Aloyisius Grimrock. He oversees a council of 10 ministers who manage the various departments of the city. He is commander in chief of the militia and the chief constable reports to him as well. The magistrates who preside over the various trials and courts here have the right to replace the mayor if the three chief magistrates vote unanimously. Fortunately, that has never happened in the long history of our city.

Thank you for your interest in this scintillating topic , after the question and answer session we will begin the 10,000 word essay portion of this course….

[totalgeek]

I'm trying to find out date and times before I sign up I'm looking for a 3.5 campaign loved the tactical battles. But i can't see how to view GM notices without joining, and I don't want to commit unless I know I can attend.

[DM_Bolan]

We are planning on playing on Sundays - first session is this sunday at 3 PM CST - it will be a meet-and-greet type session.

Send me a private message if you need further information. I'm not sure why the schedule isn't showing up.

[DM_Bolan]

Mirtul 23rd, 1348
Office Of The Headmaster
Rockingham General Academy

To the parents of young master <your name here>

As you are aware, the end of the school year is upon us, and your son will be completing his 6th year of school. As you may also be aware, our city is experiencing unprecedented growth and a burgeoning population of young citizens requiring educational instruction. Because of these constraints, we’ve been forced to re-evaluate our provisional admissions, those students who have perhaps had a less than perfect record scholastically, and behaviorally. Unfortunately, you son falls into such a category. It is with great sadness that I must inform you that his performance is now below the minimal acceptable behavior standards here at Rockingham General Academy. Specifically, he has had number of incidents where his has shown a lack of respect for generally accepted property rules. Over the last 2 years:

• Stole the funds from the academy donation box placed at various charitable functions. 11 of them to be precise. It was necessary to educate him that charity does begin at home, but not at his house. Total funds “diverted” 1100 or more gold pieces.
• Traded the entire week’s supply of food for the cafeteria for silver ingots. Estimated value of the ingots, 4,000 gold pieces.
• Stole the cash and useful items from all 107 unconscious participants in our yearly self-defense seminar which had gone horribly awry.
• Hijacked the school payroll wagon. Again.

As you can see, there is a troubling pattern here. As such, we are going to suggest that he be placed in an “alternative education system” where his true talents are more useful. This is by writ of authority of the mayor of Rockingham. The new educational program will begin promptly at 8 A.M. On Kythorn 1st (one week from today). It is highly suggested that he be prepared for a lengthy trip away from home. Again, our sincere apologies that your son’s experience at our academy was not a more positive experience.

Sincerely,
Headmaster, Rockingham General Academy

[DM_Bolan]

We are meeting today at 3 PM CST if anyone would like to join us.

Server Alias:

bold user epic camp

[DM_Bolan]

Just a quick note - I'll post an after-action summary of what the first session held for our stalwart adventurers. Needless to say the first session was a success and I look forward to running the next one.

[DM_Bolan]

Our first session was held on Sunday - we had 3 participants:

Belgalyn - Elven Sorcerer
Servina - Human Rogue
Spike - "Spiker" fighter

Not at the first session:
Adonikis - Human Cleric (new to the group)
Marcus - Dwarven Rogue (new to the group)

We used Fantasy grounds and skype - no technical issues to speak of.

Our young heroes began their adventuring career in earnest. They had each been let go from the Rockingham General Academy because of various discipline issues - Belgalyn unable to control his magic, wreaking havoc with the students and buildings. Servina, accused of pilfering many school resources. And Spike, a discipline problem continously getting into fights. Alas, the magistrate has ruled, an alternative educational path is in order.

Of course, Rockingham is a fair and free city, so there were options. Belgalyn could choose to undergo a ritual to subdue his magical powers until he left the city. Spike and Servina could sit in jail until their appeal was heard. One by one, they chose the path of uncertainty - a life of adventure on the road.

And a mentor of sorts was provided for the group, a seasoned cleric named Branylan. He too had been accused of crimes against the church but had appealed - and now, his sentence had been changed, and he was to serve as the counsel to the new adventurers for a term of one year.

Once that year was over, the heroes needed to return to Rockingham, where they would recount their tale of adventure. Failure to return would mean they would be fugitives, and perhaps an attempt to locate and apprehend and imprison them.

Our fledgling heroes were ordered to meet at a local tavern where they took some time to consider their predicament and enjoy a meal. Perhaps their last among civililzation for some time. They found their belongings and some basic equipment had been prepared for them. Branylan asked the party in earnest to take this path seriously, as he had family he hoped to return to after a year. If they did not return with him, he might never see his family again.

And so they headed to board the ship to take them downriver to Griffinford, but curiously, they discovered they were being watched by an old womain. They followed her, only to find she suddenly could walk (or perhaps run). She had run to the city guards and was seen making small talk with the guards, all the while watching the group. In the end, they decided not to accost her, as they might already be considered fugitives for not getting on the boat.

The stone-float barge, a wonderous work of invention by the dwarves of Rockingham, headed down river with the heroes. The trip was mundane, although the group noticed some fires way off in the distance, some miles away. The captain remarked that it was unusual and enough so he sent a message bird back to Rockingham.

The boat arrived without incident at Griffonford. There, the group was met by an official from the village council. Apparently, the group has been given access to a vacant tavern to use as a base of operations. When we concluded, the group had just arrived at their new base.

The next session is *NOT* scheduled yet, but is likely to be next Sunday mid-to-late afternoon CST.

[mattag08]

Any chance to add one more? I'm looking for a game to join. I've already "applied" on your calendar.

[DM_Bolan]

I am now maxed out for Players!

If slots open up, I'll be happy to let everyone know.

If you are still looking for a 3.5 game - check out DMDomination's game, I can highly reccommend it.

I will still continue to post updates to the game here.

[DM_Bolan]

(I may stil have one or two openings left for new players - DM_Bolan)

From session 2:
===========
“What do you mean?”

“I mean, today’s date, it’s the 1st of Kyrthorn, 1349.”

“How is that possible….?”

“We traveled down river, only a few hours. How can this have happened?”

And so, our heroes, recently departed from the great and fair city of Rockingham, have traveled downriver to the Town of Griffonford. A pleasant, simple, five hour trip led by a dwarven captain, Grimlock. Except that somewhere during that five hours, a year had gone by. And that’s not good.

The trip had started routinely, the party having met at an inn, following their appearance before Magistrate Brightore. The magistrate had addressed each of them, relating their historical accomplishments ::cough:: at the Rockingham general academy. Each of our heroes had some trouble fitting in at the academy.

For the warriors, its always about knowing when to fight, and when not to. And too many times, Dexa found herself brawling with other less “tolerant” students at the academy. And their instructors…. And the local constables, and even occasionally a mule who refuses to get out of her way. Sticky fingers can cut a career short, and so it was for Servina. Too many questionable transactions, too many missing candelabra, too many heisted pay wagons. It just adds up and too many times it came back to haunt her. More than one shaper of the weave has found it difficult to learn at the academy. But, between Belgalyn’s wild blasts of magic and unauthorized experiments by Morvian, or the toxic releases of newly learned spells by Gareth, there was incredible amounts of damage to the academy, indeed to its students, And Adonikus, perhaps the most difficult of students, was simply disruptive, droning on endlessly about avenging his fathers death, spreading his faith on and on, and on…. And on….

And so, Magistrate Brightore, faced with the prospect of turning all these young adventurers away from the academy, instead offered them one other possible course of action – an alternative educational system. Life on the road, the school of hard knocks. Another accused miscreant, Branylan Armbrust would be sent along with them, serving as their chaperone and mentor (well, and healer). Each in turn tried to explain what had led them down this path… Morvian claiming innocence, Dexa claiming provocation, and the most creative approach, Adonikus felt compelled to volunteer the group to smite evil on behalf of the glory of Tyr! One by one, each considered their fate, and rather than appeal there sentence*, they chose to accept the court’s decision.

*note, The City of Rockingham is a fair and just city and by no means should anyone feel that the process of appeal is in anyway unfair to the accused. Just because most prisoners are held to hard labor in the quarry during their 60, 90, 180 day appeal process, its just the way the city needs to keep its citizens healthy and productive. No one shall just lie about in jail.


And so, one by one, the group agreed to leave the city, venture forth into the wilderness for one year, and return to show the court they had become responsible, contributing citizens. Only then, would their records be expunged and Branylans sentence commuted. They were escorted to the Friendly Wench, for most, their first trip to a tavern as a free adult person. They were shown to a room where waiting for them were packs of equipment, and writs of authority granting permission to bear weapons. Here, the group made their first attempt at cobbling together a team. Yes, this well oiled machine feature Morvian, whining about his disinterested boredom, Dexa ranting about how hard her upbringing was, the death of her father, growing up as a warrior, filling the role of a male. Frankly, it appeared she scared most of the group with her passion and zest for combat.

Eventually, Branylan gathered a consensus – they would make haste to the boat and leave the forsaken city behind. And so they gathered up their new equipment and belongings, their writs of authority, and scraped together what remained of their combined dignity. Grumbling all the while they headed immediately to the dock to depart. At which point, they observed they were already being followed.

It was quickly assumed that being followed was probably about the norm for semi-illegal-newly-released-prisoner-adventurers.

And so, they found their ship, they greeted Captain Grimlock, and they made themselves comfortable in the magical stonefloat barge that would carry tons of minerals down stream. It gave them a sense of a fresh start, a new beginning, maybe this truly was the best, leaving behind home, family and friends.

And then that pesky dwarf turned up again. This time, he was hanging on to the boat as it headed down stream. The party dragged the drenched dwarf onboard and demanded an explanation. And boy, did they get one. “I’m Marcus Fenstone, on my way to my grandfather’s 200th birthday party! Let’s have some ale! Oy!”

At first, the party just assumed the dwarf was an idiot, but over the short course of the trip downriver, his genuine naiveté ingratiated him with the group. Branylan didn’t think he was nearly so trustworthy, revealing that likely, the dwarf was from the thieves guild, the Obsidian Veil. It was the Veil that sought Branylan’s conviction. Somehow, Branylan had broken the law stealing from the thieves guild, and Marcus Fenstone was sent to keep tabs on him as he left town. It was Dexa who threatened to throttle Branylan if he threw the dwarf overboard backed up by the warrior Baeryc. Somehow, this group of fledling adventurers, directed by the magistrate to follow the words of wisdom from Branylan, a seasoned adventurer and a lawful good cleric to Helm, decided to completely ignore him, and invite the clearly-lying, clearly-inexperienced dwarven rogue to join them.

Oy.

The trip downriver proceeded smoothly, the rocky wastelands of the mountains giving way to forested plains. Blue skies stretched in all directions, save one. It was some miles away that the group noticed what looked like smoke. From the distance, and color, they could only assume it was the fire of battles or the razing of buildings. Morvian sent his Raven to scout, with instructions on how to find him downriver. Soon after that, the group found themselves landing at Griffonford.

The local dockhands did not know of the smoke or its origin. Hunger had set in, and so our heroes did what all heroes due immediately upon starting their career, they ate.

The innkeeper, taking note of their arrival summoned a town official Master Thumin. Our heroes learned that a building had been reserved for their use as a headquarters for their adventuring company. They were led down the street to the buiding and found it to be in good repair. As we concluded session 1, they were just taking stock of the quarters and coming to the realization….

A year had passed since this morning.

[DM_Bolan]

I am also re-opening the game to new players - we have 2 slots open.

[DM_Bolan]

::THUD::

Dexa’s chin hid the stone floor hard enough to make her see stars. The damn goblins had put a trip rope across the doorway. And now the big one was lining up his attack.

“This can’t be the end,” she says, “I’ve not found the one true source of evil, the sorcerer who killed my family and friends... but this goblin MUST be working for him……. Somehow…..”

From the rear a shout is heard….. “Would you shut up about the evil sorcerer already….. “

Trying to recover her senses, she slowly rises to all fours, and as she does, there is a resounding ::splat:: as a weapon whizzes past her head and strikes the goblin squarely. The next sound is him hitting the floor.

“Nice shot,” Dexa groggily responds. Even then, another crossbow bolt streaks from the darkness in the corner. “Get him, theres another….”

And so our heroes, having entered a dark cave up a steep mountainside climb, came face to face with their first armed conflict. It was brief, it was brutal. Just two crafty goblins lurking inside the entry chamber, waiting for some adventurous band to breach the wooden doors. Even now, only 1 days travel from Griffonford, in this cold, dark, damp, violent place, it seemed so far away.

They had traveled from Griffonford by the light of day, by following the river northeast. This had been the party’s decision after spending the day deciding on how to best deal with the fact that they were not going to easily be able to return to Rockingham, and even when they did, they would be in violation of the magistrates instructions, the time passage during the river trip meant they could not make it back within the prescribed year. Morvian’s raven had managed to find its way back to the town, and gave him useful information about the origin of the smoke the group had seen while traveling.

Two fires were observed by the raven, a village, nearly burned to the ground, and a caravan wagon torched along the road to Millinbrook. The party used the time they had in town to try and learn the lay of the land, and learn of any interesting things going on. Master Thumin had provided an escort for the group, Rainald. Grudgingly, he was accepted (since it was obvious he wasn’t going to go away on his own) and he and Marcus canvassed the town to learn what they could and found several interesting things.

First they learned, there is some sort of magical illness affecting the residents of Millinbrook. Millinbrook is a sizable town to the north and east along the Road of Dust where it meets the Alambar River. Not a lot is known about the town here in Griffonford, but Rainald offered that there were whispers the Zhentarim had a significant presence in the area.

They also learned about small groups or orcs and goblins popping up here and there, raiding caravans, harassing towns and villages and in general causing havoc. Our heroes decided this would be fine course to follow. The debate was heavy and passionate, some wanted to find a way back to Rockingham immediately, learning that Agents of Rockingham were powerful wizards who were the only manner by which anything moved up river. It was speculated that the river is some kind of portal from Rockingham, and not just an ordinary river. Morvian spent time studying (as he always seems to be doing) the stonefloat barges and some mineral samples. The magic on the barges had faded, and the dockworkers had already begun stacking the stone slabs where they would be collected within a week or two. The minerals themselves had already been portaged away.

They had discussed just hanging about town, enjoying their free time. But everyone agreed they had two major tasks, finding a way back to Rockingham, and proving themselves worthy of release from their sentence. The Rockingham wizard agent would not be back for at least 2 more weeks. Rather than waste time doing nothing, they decided to set out –somewhere-. The choices were down river to the area of the fires, off to the town of Millinbrook, off to the big city of Untherlass or possibly west to Hardcastle. In the end, they chose to investigate the goblin marauders.

And so it was, they find themselves inside a den of inequity, a bastion of death, already having tasted blood and having been bloodied.

No doubt, the smell of blood will draw others…..

[DM_Bolan]

I have room for 2 more players if anyone is interested.

[cmdisc]

Just to confirm, what weekday/time have you settled on? Still 3pm CST Sundays? And how long is each session?

[DM_Bolan]

We've been playing at 1 PM CST (we have some players in euro time zones). The sessions last 3 to 3 and a half hours (I may even start stretching to 4)

[DM_Bolan]

Rainald suddenly tasted blood…. Everything had come to a complete stop – time seemed frozen. The smell….. ugh, the orc’s breath washed over him like a wave of malignant bile. He was staring right into the brute’s eyes. The fury, it was almost beautiful, the savagery, primitive, primal, violent evil. For that split second, Rainald heard nothing, saw everything in crystal detail, smelled only the overpowering stench of Gond, the orc mauler. But the taste of blood brought it all back to full speed, full intensity, complete chaos. Pain suddenly slammed into him like a million steely daggers hurled simultaneously. The full weight of the orc was behind the sword as it came crashing down, impaling our hero. The blood Rainald tasted, had been his own.

“RRRROOOOAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRR” came the orc’s gleeful howl. As he withdrew his blade the bloody human crumpled at his feet. The 350 pound orc who now turned attention to Dexa and Baeryc.

The orc had been a surprise. The goblins the party had encountered in the mountain caves had bee no match. Even probing deeper into the complex, the group met only nominal forces. They had overheard these goblins talking about some “bird lady” and getting her out of there by direction of Tusenmaug whoever that was. Confidently, the group moved into the area, Rainald hacking his way through the room to confront the goblin warrior. Mace against sword rang out, Morvian throwing spells to daze and charm, Those who couldn’t close on the fight loosed their arrows inflicting grievous damage to the goblins.

Unfortunately, the orc mauler did not get the memo. And when he stepped out of the shadows to flank Rainald, he hit him as square and as true as any blow could, and it drew a gasp of horror from those who saw it. Quickly the group went on the offensive, Branylan rushing into combat to bash the orc and heal Rainald. It was only a minute before the orc fell along side his goblin slaves.

And having survived, the group consoled itself, healing as best they could. Securing the area, they set about searching, looking for some kind of clues about the origins of these goblins. Dexa employed a little known technique for searching and removing traps (kick it, crush it, bash it, and if that doesn’t work find a rogue). After smashing several chests only to break the contents or set off painful traps, the dwarf began reformulating her search strategies.

Having secured the meager bits of treasure, the group prepared to move into the next room. Close examination of the remains of the goblins showed that two of them bore the tattered remains of uniforms. An insignia patch might prove useful and Baeryc collected them for later research.

The caverns continued and the chamber beyond contained the “bird lady”. NOTE TO GROUP: “bird-lady” is a goblin translation for “harpy”. And the “bird-lady” nearly made worm-food out of our heroes. Her seductive melody began drawing Baeryc and Dexa across dangerously cold waters in a sort of zombie state. Rushing to their aid, Morvian and Rainald frantically tried to pull them out of the range of the insidious melody but then had to resort to more direct methods. Morvian became the object of her attention (and not in a good way). After a couple of brushes with her razor sharp claws and stout clubs, our heroes finally resisted the song and Baeryc emphatically ended the harpies song.

Battered, bloody, and exhausted, our heroes decided to withdraw from the caves and return to Griffonford to find out just who the insignias might belong to. Hopefully, with a few more clues, and a little rest, they could return to complete the task at hand. Still, they had learned much, the orcs and goblins here were clearly working together and clearly there was a chain of command – they were organized, however chaotic it might seem. And they were taking direction from whoever the insignias belonged to.

In Griffinford, Master Thumin saw them at his office. It was clearly awkward from the start. Now that the group had returned, bloodied, it wasn’t so easy to convince the locals they were “friendly”. The insignias were another matter entirely, Master Thumin revealed they were the symbol of Zhentarim, a most foul organization of murderers and worse. Learning that you had probably earned the ire of the Zhentarim made Thumin and the rest of the village extremely uneasy. Surely there would be reprisals.

And so, the group was torn. Going back to Rockingham was still not an option, they had possibly two to three weeks before an agent wizard could be contacted. And even then, the agents of Rockingham were rarely generously accommodating. They could go to Hardcastle, a medium sized craftsman city to the east. They could go to the bustling port city of Unthalass. Or there was the town of Millinbrook, rumored now to be under the influence of Zhentil Keep, and the possibly the root of raids on caravans and villages.

They decided to sleep on it, recuperating from their wounds, disposing of their meager loot. Master Thumin however “encouraged” them to make haste, after all the Zhents might be on their trail already and Griffinford wanted no trouble with the Zhentarim. In fact, so eager for them to leave, he found the resources to help them travel more swiftly. A small wagon, and two draft horses, provisions for a week, 100 gold pieces cash was quickly located and even before nightfall the next day, the party was on the road heading east.

Perhaps Millinbrook would have a wizards guild thought Morvian….

[DM_Bolan]

We're still looking for 2 more full time players for Sundays at 1 PM CST
================================================== ==

“OH CRAP!”

Rainalds eyes got huge, his heart started pounding. They were correct, the caravan proceeding towards them along the road to Millinbrook was indeed Zhentarim. Our heroes failed to notice the Zhentarim guards were orcs. Big, mean, smelly orcs. The last time Rainald had been face to face with an orc he’d nearly been cut in half. Now, he found himself strolling leisurely down the road towards oh, about 50 blood thirsty, hungry orcs. Rainald cleared his throat and managed to squeak out ….

“Hail and well met?”

The orc had dismounted from his enormous steed. The commander and three of his warriors strode slowly and purposefully towards Rainald. When the beast was within a few feet, his stench nearly overpowered Rainald. His brutish voice carried both awe and repulsion. He barked at Rainald….

“State your business human!”

Meekly, and then with more purpose, Rainald explained the group was on the road to Millinbrook. He stammered something about visiting the mages guild, and passing through, hoping the orc and his fifty companions weren’t that particular. Rainald flinched noticeably when the orc reached for what he feared was a weapon – but it was a wanted poster. “You see dis man? His name Randall Morn. You kill him for the constable and you earn one thousand gold. He is a traitor, murderer and kidnapper.”

Rainald dutifully promised to kill him the first chance he got.

And to his surprise, the enormous caravan of wagons moved onward. The fifty orcs guarding the caravan wagons grunted hungrily and spat as they rolled by, but left our heroes intact, again, much to their surprise. No one was amused when Marcus piped up “Hey Dex, I think there was an evil sorcerer in there somewhere….” As Dexa was about to fly into action, the main guardian of the caravan, an enormous female ogre lumbered by chewing on something… or someone. They reined her back in before he did something silly. Again.

Resuming their long journey north and west, they settled on a road-side campsite as night fell. Being in a hurry to get out of Griffonford, they had traveled have a days ride late in the day. Exhausted they set up camp and set a watch. It was on second watch that Dexa was attacked by a bat, some fifteen feet across and over 200 pounds. Ordinarily, a person on watch attacked by an enormous monster would raise the alarm. But Dexa is the most polite guard, she skewered the varmint on its first pass and put it down for good on its second pass. Unfortunately for Dexa, the bats lifeless carcass smacked into her, knocking her down and covering her in well, bat guts. It took a mighty shove to heave the disgusting remains off the stalwart dwarf.

Travel was slow, the company of heroes had the wagon and draft horses, but that was little faster than walking and slower if they were all to ride. So Rainald drove the wagon while the other alternately walked and occasionally rode. The rolling hills gave way to rocky scrublands. It was in this area they first noticed a creature they believe to be an ogre, shadowing them, perhaps waiting for the right chance to strike. The second night, they spent keeping watchful eye for the beast, but it never attacked.

Having reached the Road of Dust, the group had turned north east and followed the heavily traveled route. Periodically the party would pick up the faint glimpse of the ogre, or at least some ogre, off in the distance.

The party debated significantly over what to do about the reward offered for the rebel insurgent Randall Morn. One thousand gold coins was a sizable reward. And certainly, helping the authorities capture a wanted criminal was surely what the magistrate of Rockingham had in mind as a way to prove yourselves. It seemed like a simple decision until….

“Randall Morn would like to hire you to aid in the overthrow of Zhentarim control of the area. He’s offering a thousand gold coin reward!”

This came from the leader of some Untherian freedom riders. Led by Captain Reiner Trall, they approached our heroes directly. They made no bones about their allegiance to the outlaw Randall Morn. In fact they were proud of it. The Zhentarim forces in the area ruled through intimidation and fear and freemen feared for their lives each day. Reiner Trall asked the group had they encountered any of the Zhent forces? Carefully forgetting to mention the wanted poster, the group told Captain Trall about the orcish caravan. No doubt they were heading to Griffinford for minerals judging by the size of their carts and the number of guards.

And so, now faced with their choices of which bounty to claim, our stalwart heroes continued onward to Millinbrook. Camping nearby the town, the group waited for morning to come to complete the last leg of their trip.

What could go wrong? An hours ride from town? A sunshiny day? Warm summer breezes wafting the smell of… of…. Of….

“OH CRAP!” More orcs.

This time the heavily armed force rode purposefully to the group and immediately surrounded them and demanded Dexanis accompany them immediately. For several tense minutes there were only a few possible things that could happen. The party could be crushed under the weight of the orcs fury. Dexanis could be handed over to them. But a wizard from Rockingham who wants to find a mages guild won’t be bothered by mere orc hordes and so Morvian began “negotiating” with the Orc commander.

In the end, the orc agreed to let the party continue on to Millinbrook as long as they checked in with the constable.

The party “promised” they would. ::COUGH::

And finally, the town of Millinbrook was reached. When we concluded the party had just started looking for a place to stay and learned where the mages guild was. They also learned where the Zhentarim Constable Tren Noemfor, commander of the garrison at Millinbrook, ruled ruthlessly.

[DM_Bolan]

“Perhaps I may be of some assistance?” asked the slender elf dressed in traveling clothes. “That place you speak of, the burnt temple of Lathandar, there is word of a great evil lurking beneath it. You would do well to avoid it, or perhaps my services would be of value?”

And with that, Namil had introduced himself and smoothly got invited along to boot. The temple of Lathandar, the Morning lord here in Millinbrook had been burned to the ground mysteriously 8 years ago. It would appear that when it was destroyed, something more lay below it.

Within a few minutes, while sitting in the common room at the Teshford Arms, our group of stalwart heroes had grown from five, to seven. They exchanged information about what they had learned about town. Dexanis explained how she had learned of some former dwarven delving – abandoned one-hundred years ago. The Brightblade dwarves had been driven out, but not before placing a curse on the town. Now some idiot has caused the curse to reoccur – rendering residents of the city under a strange sleeping sickness. They decided to immediately investigate the cliffs. Somewhere in the cliffs above town to the west lie the entrance to the secret dwellings and perhaps the magic sword they were crafting. It was then that Orodreth introduced himself and advised that leaving the inn at night was not a good idea. The dwarves were apparently preparing for the arrival of a powerful, evil wizard. Somehow, Dexanis is sure this must be a mistake, it would have to be an evil sorceress.

Morvian had a very productive visit with the mages guild. There he was able to learn some new spells as well as find out details about this dreaded illness. Some thirty people in town are known to have the illness and several more are missing. Many have died gasping for water as if they had crossed a desert. Many of the disappearances occur at night. Rumors swirl that the constable Tren Noemfur has recruited a sorcerer (settle down Dex) to cause and then cure the disease to build esteem in the eyes of the citizens. Tren of course, believes the rebel Randall Morn himself is behind the terrible sleeping sickness.

There was much merriment among the heroes as well. Dexanis showed off her excellent singing skills (unlikely to ever be repeated) much to the crowd’s delight. It was all fun and games until the 350 pound orc came in and drooled on everyone. Marakkt, a messenger from Constable Tren Noemfur and two of his ugly comrades came to the inn. Tren Noemfur would see the group in the morning. And it wasn’t a question. And when morning came, they hurried to meet the towns ruler. Warily, they met him in his office. Really, considering he is a constable of the Zhentarim, crushing the armed rebellion in Unther, possibly creating a fever to strike fear into his subjects while withholding the cure until the moment when it will make him look the best, he was really a nice guy.

He offered our heroes a great sum of money to either capture and/or kill Randall Morn, or to end the sleeping sickness. Still playing both sides against the middle, our heroes smiled and nodded and then left as quickly as they could. With little fanfare, they headed to to the remains of the temple of Lathandar, having secured the Constables permission to enter. The burned out rubble of the temple had been cleared away revealing a staircase. At the bottom of the stairs was a door that led into the wine cellar. Here, in typical fashion, the party immediately killed the non-aggressive animals, created as much noise as they could, and then repeatedly lifted and dropped a massive iron portcullis.

After a might struggle, the portcullis finally was lifted and the party entered the resting place of the greatest clerics of the former temple. Here, history and the underworld came together – undoubtedly the tombs would have great treasures, and undoubtedly, the party would pay dire consequences for their desecration. They thought better of it, and moved on.

Finding the remains of Tren Noemfur’s soldiers, the party was confronted by an enormous creature wielding hook-like blades for arms and a razor sharp beak. He had apparently killed off the soldiers, but he was no match for Rainald, Dex and Baeryc.

When the fighting subsided, as the group tended to their wounds, Namil quietly and calmly draws his weapon once again…

“There is someone following us….”

[DM_Bolan]

“AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! “ They screamed in unison. The gust of foul smelling air rebuked our stalwart heroes as they splintered the door. A mass of boned assassins had swarmed at the door, waiting for the chance to claw the haughty adventurers. Even the guard dog was surprised, so much so he snapped his chain and ran off back towards the pool of the nixie Aaeld.

Lacking the services of a competent rogue, Dexanis had to take matters into her own hands. She along with the help of the others had bashed in the last 3 doors they found in this foul smelling, evil infested, slime-ridden dungeon. Sure, it had started out as the basement and wine cellar of the former temple of Lathandar. Now, it appeared to be something much darker. Our band of heroes had been accosted by giant insect men, small dog like creatures, and now, a horde of angry skeletons.

Branylan quipped “Well, at least Aaeld offered to help us escape if we were going to die… can skeletons swim?”

Aaeld was a nixie, who’s home turned out to be a pool inside large chamber here. There were numerous underwater access tunnels that she used to move about the world at large, but she rested here in her pool. She was able to explain the presence of the wood woses and offered to aid them if they found themselves somehow at peril. She could lead them out through the water.

Indeed, they were now nearly exhausted, out of magic, and bloodied from numerous battles. They had faced, and defeated, the so-called “wood woses” – the strange plant-born beings who appeared to be the ones roaming the town at night, stealing citizens from the street and their beds, and somehow infecting others with the cursed slumber. And the battle was not without price, the sting of the wood wose left a person sluggish, and drained. And the effects seem permanent.

They had first encountered the wood woses in a vast chamber that appeared to be a breeding ground. Aaeld had described them, but they were far more horrible than anyone had guessed. After a tremendous battle, the three wood woses in the breeding cavern were slain. A fantastic growth of enormous mushrooms appeared to serve as the breeding ground and more than a dozen new wood woses were “growing”. Considering several options, such as fire, they finally settled for hacking down the immature sprouts. The task was not for naught, as they found several items of useful nature.

Although the front line big-hitters took a shock when they bashed that last door, Orodreth had his own moment. When the party worked their way down a westward passage they discovered an unusual “pit”. Elven curiosity got the best of Oro. Securing a line to his waist he demanded Dex and Baeryc lower him into the pit. There is a fine line between genius and insanity….

And thus, the amorphous being that covered the bottom of the pit began in earned to eat Oro. The slobbering, snapping slimy beast shuffled and gurgled its way ever closer to Oro, now only 10 feet above.

“Lower me more!”

“WHAT?”

“Lower me more, there is something under this thing….”

And they did. And finally, the maroon mass reformed itself into a powerful fist looking appendage which Oro stabbed desperately with his long sword. The beast reeled in response and Dex and Baeryc didn’t need more than a moment of coaxing to quickly pull Orodreth back up. They started a fire to scare the thing off into the myriad of holes at the bottom of the pit. To their morbid chagrin, the beast produced horrible foul smelling smoke and seemed to whine a little scream as the flames did their damage. It left some of our group feeling cold and empty. It left Orodreth with a ruined sword, wounded pride, and a need to change his vestments.

It was all starting to add up though. The people disappearing from town, the spreading of the disease, the constable’s inability to stop it, the strange beings that roam the streets at night in Millinbrook. It all originated here somehow. They were close but yet there was a long way to go in this vast bastion of darkness and evil. This holy place now desecrated by the likes of skeletons and wood woses and perhaps some evil mage. There were areas they had left unexplored as well, the crypts of the patriarch priests of Lathandar, and passages and rooms left unexplored.

The more immediate issue was the flying pieces of door. Once the door had been partially smashed by Dex, the skeletons just completely obliterated it, streaming out of the door, the wood splinters firing like shards. Dexanis and Baeryc were immediately overwhelmed by dread and horror and taken aback as the flood of deadly skeletons fell upon them!

[DM_Bolan]

She knew she had only an instant to act, she was the only on close enough, and there would be no second chances. One…. Two… three…. Jump!

And with that, Dexanis “soared” through the doorway, spilling into the hallway and landing on the leathery beasts back, pinning its wings underneath her. Writhing and whipping for it’s life, the homunculus sank its fangs squarely into Dexa’s shoulder. She held fast, and the beast bucked furiously. If he got away…

It was a rather sudden realization that if they didn’t stop him instantly, the homunculus would escape and allow his master the most time and information to prepare. They found the silent beast cowering behind some crates in the breeding chamber of the wood woses. When it didn’t attack, and didn’t speak, our heroes gave pause. “What could this beast be? Why, it could be an imp, or some familiar…. Why, if it’s a familiar, doesn’t it have a way to communicate instantly with it’s master…..?”

“OH CRAP! STOP IT!”

And Dexa jumped, as far as she could and miraculously landed on the creatures back.

The breeding chamber itself had been rather mundane, this was obviously the place where someone of great power was summoning or “growing” the powerful wood woses. Apparently, the immature wood woses were transferred to the large growing area they had destroyed the day before. They were lucky to have survived the crypt full of skeletons. These were not the remains of the former priests of Lathandar, indeed, these had been wrought by another powerful evil.

The skeletons were bold, brutal and powerful. They burst through the shattered door and rushed our heroes knocking them back and reinforcing immediately. They scored powerful wounds with their scimitars and defended the heroes blows skillfully. But then the power of the clerics and their patrons was brought down on the undead. Orodreth and Branalyn banished first the sword bearers and then the archers. Sensing they had pushed their group to it’s limits, they retreated to the lair of Aaeld the water nixie. There, to their surprise, they were presented with the sleeping form of a female. Aaeld explained that the woman had been left behind, and was easily stashed in an underwater cavern until help could be sought. And so the party resuscitated Faerless, and in her disoriented state it nearly took force of arms to subdue her. But Morvian gently explained she had been taken from town by the wood woses. Gradually she came to trust her rescuers.

They rested overnight, and aside from a pair of wood woses who tried to interrupt them, all went quietly. Morning brought the discovery of the storage room / hidden sleeping chamber and the breeding chamber. That had led to the homunculus which had led to that moment of clarity about the evil master of a familiar knowing instantly where they were and who they were and that led to the jump….

Of course, the question immediately became what to do now that she had indeed, made the jump and tackled the creature as it ran madly for it’s life. Back into the hallway they pair tumbled, Dexa trying to hang on to the wildly flapping creature. And when they crashed to the ground, she lay sprawled out on top of it, Dexa raised her head and saw the ornately carved doors to the north fly open. From within, emanated a force of presence our heroes had never witnessed. A man who looked old only in years but not in fire and energy stood command over wood woses. Even in the distance the group could hear the man bellow out the final words of an incantation.

With a burst of light from the room, a small horde of jermlaine were summoned, taking their positions around the wizard immediately. The wood woses stood flanking inside the large doorway. The man once again bellows……

“WHO DARES DISTURB MY HOME….. WHO DARES DISTURB THE RIGHTFUL KING OF UNTHER. WHO DARES TO KILL MY SERVANTS, DESTROY MY PROPERTY AND DESECRATE THIS MOST HOLY OF PLACES?”

His voice echoes now, carrying the full power of his former might.

“WHO DARES DEFY LORD COLDERAN MORN, THE KING RETURNED!”

[DM_Bolan]

Congratulations to Dexanis, Morvian, Baeryc, Rainald on their advancement to level 3 and to Orodreth for his advancement to level 2 and welcome to our new player Faerless.

Our next session will be in two weeks (Skipping 1 week) on September 7th at 1 PM CST.

Please send me a private message if you are interested in joining.

[DM_Bolan]

“It is an easy task,” Vex thought to himself. Plunge the dagger in just the right place and the sleeping ruler of Unther would be no more. And still it nagged at him, “Am I doing the right thing?”

And he quickly and quietly completed the deed, sealing the fate of Tren Noemfur, the Zhentarim puppet who ruled Millinbrook and the surrounding region through force of arms and intimidation. With the constable of Millinbrook dead, the rightful ruler of Unther could now ascend to the throne. Now, if we only knew which of the rightful rulers of Unther was indeed, the rightful heir to the crown.

On one hand there was Lord Randall Morn. Although they were offered 1000 gold pieces for his capture/death, they chose not to, still unsure of whether the Zhentarim were the legitimate authority here, and whether they were responsible for the strange dream fever affecting the citizens. Rather than join a cause they were unsure of, they kept it close to the vest. Meanwhile, they had been exploring the complex underneath the ruined temple of Lathandar. And they had in fact, found the person responsible for the dream fever.

Aye, that was the rub. The “other” rightful ruler of Unther was Lord Colderan Morn. The pompous, arrogant, and fat old wizard could have wiped our heroes out. Instead, he did them a favor. Sharing Randall’s surname surely was not a coincidence, so how were the two connected?

“SMASH THAT BROACH!” he bellowed, and when the party didn’t act quickly he repeated his command. “YOU DARE TO DEFY THE KING OF UNTHER? THAT BROACH IS OF SCRYING MAGIC – YOUR FOES WATCH YOUR EVERY MOVE!”

And sure enough, he was right about the cloak that Dexa was wearing, that she had found in the caves of the roaming bands of Zhent sanctioned orcs and goblins. Apparently, Tren Noemfur kept close watch on his minions through scrying devices.

And with that, the battle that had begun, was paused. It had seemed to start well enough for our heroes, they had the wizards familiar, they had a good defensible position, they were rested. But the craft old wizard cast a spell and switched places with Dexa leaving her surrounded by wood woses and jermlaine. On one hand, the stalwart adventurers meticulously searching for the cause of the dreaded dream fever. They had slain the minions of Colderan, his wood woses and skeletons and other assorted foul beasts. They had hacked through the thorn walls intended to deter them. They had defeated the locks and traps set before them and come face to face with the powerful wizard with 100 years of frustration built up. Perhaps a moment or two of conversation would be okay…. Somehow, someone had brought him back from dead after a century. And he wanted his kingdom back.

And so it was, that Colderan, the long-dead king of Unther, carried on a quiet, contemplative dialogue with Morvian and the others….

“Why do you trap these souls with your evil disease?”

“It is all the tools I have at my disposal to reclaim my throne. The “victims” will be restored to health….

“Break the curse of the fever, or we have no choice but to fight you….”

“Kill the traitor Tren Noemfur and I shall….”

Now that was interesting. Tren Noemfur wanted the disease dispelled but was he willing to die to see it happen? A quiet, but heated conversation among the party members found them divided. Some thought killing Tren was dishonorable. Colderan was clearly evil. But the others argued they’d be doing two favors, killing a Zhent commander and curing the disease. In the end, they chose to make a deal with Colderan.

Colderan dispelled the magic affecting 8 of the victims in a nearby chamber. One by one, a lost little boy, a confused merchant, the little boy’s mother, a city guard, a priestess of Bane named Eragyn, a road weary traveler Vex and a burly brute of a man Regdar. It was decided that the victims would need to be led from the dungeon, but Colderan demanded the party finish off Tren first. Regdar and Vex decided to stay with the group as they followed the passage Colderan showed them to the east. It led to a shrine (to Colderan, thus giving credence to his story) and the shrine room in turn was below the sleeping chambers of the constable. Having gained a bit of the party’s confidence, Colderan used a spell and vanished into a cloud of gas. Whatever happened, the wizard would live to fight another day.

And that brought Vex to his moral dilemma. In the end, he carried out the deed and when the party returned, they began escorting the victims out. It was a place of wonder for such citizens of Millinbrook. The watery aerie of the water nixie Aaeld. The fungi spawning ground, the crypts of the priests of Lathandar. It was here they discovered a secret chapel, left long undisturbed. The breached the secret sanctuary and could not resist pocketing a few of the items they found. Perhaps Lathandar will look kindly that they liberated the temple and dismiss their thievery.

The party remained uncomfortable with a priestess of Bane among them. But no one was okay with the idea of letting her wander about loose. In the end, the entire group emerged from the underground complex in the wee hours of darkness. To their surprise, they find a mass of guards surrounding the temple entrance. Immediately fears arise that the death of Tren Noemfur has been made public, or worse, the party has been implicated. But quickly, that fear subsides. The cause of the disturbance is lying in the street several yards from the entrance to the temple. There, a gnome, lying on his back, moaning in pain is the focus of the guards attention.

The sergeant-at-arms bellows to the gnome: “You, rise to your knees, put your hands upon you head. You are under arrest for trespassing the grounds of the former temple!”

Rolling to one side slowly, and rising to his knees, the gnome turns a furtive glance towards the party. He’s mouthing something in the darkness…..

“HELP ME”

[DM_Bolan]

"Honest! I'm guilty of being lost..... I'm not trampling on sacred ground of Lathander.... I swear!"

The 350 pound orc stood over the gnome who lay stunned and helpless on the ground. "Surrender or die, the constable will decide your fate in the morning." The words were accompanied by the stench and spittle of commander Grumlock.

Our heroes stood watching, having just emerged from the former temple of Lathander themselves. The only difference was, THEY had permission, and this unfortunate gnome, did not.

The scene quickly turned more chaotic when Grumlock discovered eight more people, former victims of the dream fever, were also among those exiting the ruins.

Try as they might, Orodreth and Fierlas could not persuade the Commander to just "let everyone go their own way". He sent a messenger to wake the constable.

Hm, that could be bad, Vex had just killed constable Tren. At least they group had a solid alibi saving townfolk from the fever and such.

Finally, Grumlock decides the matter is urgent enough to just escort the entire bunch through the streets of Millinbrook to the constables tower. There, he could decide on his own. Grumlock wasn't taking chances on displeasing his commander....

Hesitantly, our heroes entered the constables chamber, holding their breath... how could the dead constable be well, alive, let alone awake at 3 AM.

Yet, there he was. Instantly the party became suspicious, and as the constable feigned gratitude for the job well done by the group, it became obvious that Colderan had replaced the dead constable Tren Noemfur. The imposter sent home the victims of the fever. Eragyn, the priestess of Bane, was escorted to the edge of the frontier, and told never to return. When the last of the victims and guards had left, Colderan dropped his pretense revealing his true form.

He gave the party their reward, though they inflated the quoted price as the wizard was none the wiser. He then proceded to discuss the throne of Unther, and the fact that there were two Lord Morn's claiming the throne. And Lord Colderan Morn was not ceding his throne to his own great grandson Lord Randall Morn. Indeed.... Grandpa wants to be close with his great grandson... real close.

"FIND RANDALL MORN, AND BRING HIM TO ME. ALIVE, ARE WE CLEAR....?"

"And what if we choose otherwise....?"

Lord Morn's visage turned quite dark, and he leaned over his desk and hissed an acidic reply. "Then the good constable of Millinbrook, the seat of power in Unther, lands of the Zhentarim Empire, shall inform Zhentil keep that certain adventurers are traitors. And warrants good throughout the realm with bounties will ensue.... YOU WOULDN'T WANT THAT WOULD YOU.....?"

And although the conversation wasn't over, it was over. Colderan made it clear they should discreetly find Randall Morn and arrange for him to come to the tower. The party agreed to it, but secretly they were already considering a lot of other options.

They left the terrifying wizard and returned to the inn exhausted.

"What about the sword....? " Asked Morvian. "The one the dwarves were preparing...?" The group had crammed into one small room and were quietly reviewing thier options. Things were falling into place so precisely, it seemed inevitible. The dwarves were driven from Millinbrook 100 years ago. Colderan was the ruler of Millinbrook about a hundred years ago. The dwarves, driven to the cliffside caverns began construction of an epic blade, meant to slay a returning king. Colderan is raised from the dead by a cleric of untold power, to reclaim his throne.

There was really only one right answer. Colderan must die, and they would need the sword of the Brightblade dwarves to do it. But first.... they would need sleep!

[DM_Bolan]

"I have grave news... it seems I'm no longer welcome here in Millinbrook."

And with those words, Morvian set the party on a thorough discussion of what their next step might be.

"What do you mean, no longer welcome....?" the druid asked.

"I mean, they believe that the sword constructed by the dwarves to slay the returning wizard, was constructed to kill me..."

(snickers from Morvian's companions make him blush...) "YOU? They think YOU are the mighty wizard long banished now returning after 100 years to seek vengeance...."

Morvian sneers... "Hey, it COULD happen."

So what to do? Leave town immediately, before the mages guild kept their word? Search for the dwarven delvings, where the fabled sword is rumored to be waiting? Enlist the aid of Colderan to squash any resistance from the wizards guild? Find Randall Morn? Deliver Randall Morn to Colderan? Join Randall's freedom riders against Colderan? er.. Tren? Await the arrival of the "new" commander now that Tren Noemfur has "resigned"?

It seemed like many in the group were at odds on the subject. Baeryc was still trying to understand the mysterious wizard who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, spoke with him for only moments, and then vanished. The wizard spoke of having participated in a huge battle of a thousand wizards, that ultimately, was never finished, as the leaders of the two great forces sued for peace.

Orodreth was troubled with the state of his meditations. It seemed, his most recent prayers had been disturbed by a vision of Fierlas, the druid, suffering in sorrow at the sight of a decaying world that was black and twisted, and shone little light. The sight of her caring for her departed companion, Bark, now hideously transformed into a twisted creature of darkness.

More disturbing was the image of the sun, bearing a blemish, a dark spot, nearly shaped like a tear. And yet, when the sun shined brightly, no one saw the mark.

With a slight chill in the air, the group decided to move swiftly, they had a two week deadline to find Randall Morn. This sword, the one the dwarves crafted a century ago, would serve them well if they chose to kill Colderan, or it might serve Randall Morn well if he chose to claim his throne. Either way, it got Morvian out of town, and that was a good thing.

So they headed out west of town, searching in the twilight at the base of the cliffs until Vex was able to spot an unused trail. Ascending the cliff face, they followed an ancient trail that led to a plateau. There, they met, quite by accident, a large brown bear.

Immediately, and much to the dismay of Fierlas, Baeryc and Dexa made plans to kill the bear and search the cave it occupied. Fortunately, cooler heads prevailed, Fierlas was able to negotiate with the bear. She promised the bear it could eat Dexa when the group returned.

The cave turned out to be a well concealed entrance to a complex definitely of dwarven origin. They avoided the traps, did not disturb the bats, and carefully worked their way into the dwarven sanctuary.

The complex was seemingly unoccupied. They investigated it thoroughly. It seemed the dwarves were prepared to fight a long time, having established an excellent concealed viewing chamber, overlooking the entire valley and town of Millinbrook. You could see everything, every movement of guards, the comings and goings on the road and the river.

The grand chamber was filled with dramatic statues of dwarven warriors, the walls depicting great battles against Orcs and Drow elves. Glowing blue spheres provided an eternal light source and painting the whole scene in a surreal azure hue.

They also found the smithy, and the forge upon which the great blade was forged. And indeed, they found the black blade itself. It surged with power as Dexa and Baeryc tested it's balance. They also found the remains of the two dwarves who stood their ground to save their home, a priest, and a warrior. It became clear what happened to them when they found this inscription on the wall:

"Children of the land, for your insults to my beloved Belsaria, your axes shall be blunted, and your crops will wither, and all living things shall flee my unhallowed might. In seven days, I shall tear your halls down and let no stone stand on stone." Signed - Colderan the mage-lord.

Dexa quipped, "Good news Morvian, that sword wasn't forged to kill YOU."

[DM_Bolan]

It all crystallized in one frozen moment. The battlefield stood silent and still. It wasn’t of course…. Morvian stood flinging spells at the Zhentarim troops, Fierlas and Bark furiously trying to fend off the dark warriors. Arrows loosed from Vex’s bow found their mark on the javelin wielders hurling their barbed missiles. Baeryc charged headlong into the battle. But somehow, for one moment, everything seemed, still.

And then it happened, a bolt of pure black energy streaked from the hands of the priestess Eragyn and found its mark. When the blast hit Fierlas, she was engulfed by the purple bolt, for moments, the energy surged through her, bursting forth from her eyes, her ears, nose and mouth. She shook violently, arms spread, helpless. When it ended, she collapsed to her knees, blood pouring from her mouth and ears, and she collapsed, lifeless.

How had it come to this? Only moments ago, the party was celebrating the recovery of the mage-bane weapon, the one the Brightblade dwarves had forged, the one destined to slay the once-dead mage-king, Colderan. He was the one who had driven out the dwarves in the first place. He had been long-since-dead until the priestess Eragyn arranged for his resurrection. Little did she know, she bore a striking resemblance to the wizards love, Belisaria. Finding that she was not Belisaria, he was enraged, and cast her with the same fate as the other citizens of town trapped by the dream fever.

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!,” screamed Dexa, streaking across the battlefield towards the elven cleric of Bane. Orodreth sprinted to Fierlas, hoping to heal her, if it wasn’t too late. Morvian with his magic had tied up the foot soldiers, along with the entanglement that Fierlas had caused. But now, she lie bloodied, and lifeless.

Dexa and the druid hadn’t really hit it off. There was the matter of the bear, who Fierlas had promised to feed. Several party members took this to mean, the bear could eat Dexa, but Fierlas had planned to capture a deer for the bear, instead of allowing him to feast on a dwarf. Even after the party attacked the bear, and wounded gravely, Fierlas still managed to convince the bear to acquiesce, healing him from the wounds the party caused.

Ultimately, the point was moot. A dead Zhent guard lying outside the cave would be a fine meal. Only problem was, where did this Zhent come from, and who killed him quickly and neatly. It wasn’t an answer they had time to consider for long while traveling the short distance to town. The remainder of the Zhent detachment made their presence known promptly.

And here we were. The druid lie motionless on the ground and Eragyn was about to turn her attention to Dexa. Fierlas’ companion Bark however had turned savage when his master fell. Charging the priestess, the wolf bowled her over. Dexa wasted no time….

“You die here and NOW!” And with that, Dexa’s greatsword came straight down piercing the prone cleric’s skull. As the blade crashed down, her eyes eerily rolled upwards, and a strange almost-smile came upon her. The remaining Zhents were slain or driven away.

“She’s going to be okay….. “ Orodreth was still tending to Fierlas, but now, she was at least sitting up, seemed to be talking.

But many questions remained unanswered. Why would the Zhents attack? Colderan was in charge of the Zhents and was on good terms with the party – at least it seemed. Perhaps he was aware the party had obtained the sword? He wanted to “meet” Randall Morn, who the party was tasked to find.

It became clear, going back to Millinbrook at this point, was perhaps a one-way trip. The group discussed all their options and really hadn’t come to a resolution, when the sound of someone moving in the trees put the whole group immediately back on the defensive. When a figure emerged from the trees, he was already ranged by the archers.

“WHOA! HOLD UP! DON’T SHOOT! Randall Morn sends his regards….”

No one even blinked. By this point, determining who was your friend and who was your foe had become a tricky business. Anyone could claim to be Randall Morn

“Seriously, put the bows down, I’ll not fight. Here…. Let me drop my weapons” He slowly used one hand to drop his scabbard out of reach. “My name is Binn…. Lord Randall sent me to find you. It seems, (motioning to the dead) I’m not the only one….”

The man, dressed in leather armor, bearing a short sword and a dagger, fluently moved with grace. His manner was peaceful, calm, disarming. Yet, there was an element of danger in his countenance, as if he could summon strength and vigor if the need was urgent. “Please, friends, give me 5 minutes to tell you what I was sent to tell you. If you still want to kill me when I’m done, so be it.”

Baeryc scooped up the man’s weapons, and pointed to the trees. The group moved out of the open, where they had been observed by a falcon. Under the trees would provide some visual cover.

“My name is Binn. It is true that I am in the company of Lord Randall Morn, but truth be told, he is less of a factor in this matter than you are. Which of you is Morvian?”

Morvian did not step forward but every other member of the group turned and looked at him, which drew a blush. Weakly, he cleared his throat, “That would be ahem, me.”

“Really? Hm, I guess I figured you would be taller…. Or a bit older…. More distinguished…. Well, no matter. “ Binn paused before focusing his attention on Morvian.

“Morvian, I am a Harper, and if you know that term, than you know I would not be here on the trivial cause of some principality in the middle of nowhere that has a token Zhentarim leader. No, for reasons I myself have not been told, your safety is critical to the future of our lands. I shall provide you safe passage, to wherever you need to go.”

“Millinbrook….” He says flatly, “may be inhospitable…..”

[DM_Bolan]

Congratulations to our party members, Dexa, Morvian, Baeryc and Vex all earned a level this week.

[DM_Bolan]

PLEASE NOTE: NO GAME ON OCTOBER 26th.

"Sssssssshhhhhhh, the ranger hissed at Vex as the two squatted in the brush. They were watching 3 horsemen trying to figure out what their intentions were. By the look of them, they were well armed and well-trained. And despite wearing the colors of Lord Randall Morn, well… let’s just say not everyone was as they appeared these days.

The trip had been reasonably uneventful. Binn, the harper led the way cheerfully explaining his involvement along the way. The harpers had taken an interest in our heroes, but even Binn knew not why. “I can lead you to Randall Morn, but you will need to carry out your business on your own. The Harpers have no interest in the throne of Unther or affairs of this realm. Our interest is well, on you….” And more specifically, Morvian. It seemed the fair wizard had grown in repute even over his short time in Unther. Poor Binn made the mistake of taking time to meet and talk to each of our heroes. Unfortunately, he chose Dexa first. She went on and on for 45 minutes without so much as a breath before Binn had to politely stop her.

They traveled northeast over the rugged foothills of the Smoking Mountains. Periodically, the ranger would halt the group, and either he or Fierlas would arrange passage through the area so as not to alarm the local animals. Treacherous paths were clearly spotted so the group could move quickly and safely. All the while, they scanned the air for watching eyes.

And after a few hours, they happened upon a trail, and upon the trail, the Freedom Riders of Randall Morn. Binn took his leave, bidding the group good luck and disappearing into the forest. Gingerly, the group approached, partially out of wary, partially so as not to overwhelm the small group. As they approached tenuously, pleasantries and small talk exchanged, they told the riders they needed to see Randall Morn. But the riders were not so easily swayed as to just blurt out their lieges location. Instead they sent ahead for a messenger to convey to the un-crowned king, that the party of adventurers wished to meet him, on his terms of course.

Meanwhile, as they could have two days or more to wait, they set up a camp. Sensing an ambush could happen, they set up a mock camp near the trail and their real camp safely under the cover of trees. Uneasily, they settled in for the night, only to have their camp attacked by an ogre. They quickly repelled the beast and left it for the beasts of the forest to consume. Anxious for the return of the courier, they awoke early. By mid-day, their escort had returned with news – Randall Morn would see them.

When they arrived at the enclave of the freedom riders, they found a veritable army camped among the trees. The fighters ranged in age and size – they looked professional, if not well provided for. The conditions by which our heroes were allowed to approach the future king of Unther were strict. No weapons, and they would be led the final stage of the trip in the darkness of magical blindness. After being spun around and led down roped paths, they reached the final destination. An enormous cavern, that served as the court of King Randall. There, for the first time, they were impressed by the might of his highness. No doubt, he was a leader of men.

Some pleasantries exchanged, but everyone knew the matter was more urgent. And finally, the group was led to a side chamber, where they could speak freely of the matters before them. Randall was earnest, listening intently, but assuring his questions were answered. Perhaps not originally intended, the truth was told by all sides.

“Yes, Colderan, is my great grandfather. He was cursed by the Brightblade dwarves that his return from the afterlife would be met with swift vengeance. The prophecy of course was assumed to be legend. But it is clearly not. Here he is, returned after 100 years, and from what you say, intent upon the throne. And he breaks the back of those he should revere, his subjects. He harms them with this great disease. He kills them if it suits his need. He tricked you into slaying Tren Noemfur, by no means an honorable man, but he should have met his fate on the battle field.”

“And now you say, you’ve found the blade that might slay him? For 100 years this blade has been only a stones throw from here and yet no one found it until today? It’s as if the harpers are about! What to do… what to do…. It seems that Colderan has remained with the visage of Tren and summoned more soliders from surrounding areas. His troops now number more than 200 within the walls of Millinbrook. More contingents arrive each day. Still there would seem to be no better time to strike, while we have the aid of a powerful band of heroes….”

“You have shown allegiance and bowed before the crown of Unther. Now I shall ask you to prove that allegiance. For all these years, my father, my grand-father, myself, have waged a war to bring peace and justice back to this fair realm. We are so close, so close, and now, my very flesh and blood will stand to defeat us. I shall lead you in your assault against the Zhentarim, and I shall wield the blade that kills Lord Colderan Morn, the mage-king, my great grandfather!!”

[DM_Bolan]

“He is a traitor! Slay him now! He’ll betray us all!”

And with that, the host of soldiers and our stalwart heroes bantered about the fate of a lowly kobold spy who had wandered into Lord Randall Morn’s enclave. The seemingly invisible creature hadn’t been found until he wandered very near the meeting chamber. Here, the plans for the attack on Millinbrook had begun in earnest.

The plan had been forged. Many options were available. In the end, a simple plan that did not rely on complex timing or critical milestones was decided on. The frontal assault of Millinbrook would be carried out by Lord Randall’s men – a highly trained shock unit bearing spears and shieldbearers to protect them from the inevitable hail of arrows.

Then, once the entrance was breached, and the initial assault could draw the attention of the town’s garrison, our heroes, along with a small contingent of soldiers would make for the entrance to the temple. There, they could retrace their steps through the temple, to the basement of Lord Colderan’s tower. As the battle raged above, our heroes would bring the mage-killer blade to wreak it’s justice on the evil mage.

They had considered having the party enter first, through a ruse where they would be impersonating Lord Colderan as Tren Noemfur. It was deemed unnecessarily dangerous, when it gained little tactical advantage. Penetrating the side gate, little used in recent years was also deemed unnecessary – getting to the mechanism quickly would be difficult. In the end, the direct approach – the simplest was set upon.

And that’s when a commotion from the antechamber led to the discovery of a kobold running loose among Randall’s enclave. He quickly claimed to be in the employ of the king, and Dexa quickly offered to kill him. Thock begged in earnest, having sworn allegiance to the king. But he was a kobold… and well, nobody was buying it.

Until Lord Randall returned and confirmed, to everyone’s dismay, that Thock the kobold was indeed in the service of the crown of Unther. Worse yet, the uncrowned king told them Thock would be joining them in their effort to kill the mage Colderan.

And so the plan was born, to be carried out two days hence. A festival of merriment was to be held, to celebrate the forthcoming day of reckoning. 100 years of oppression would be coming to an end, Millinbrook and the kingdom of Unther would once again be free, free of Zhentarim poison, and free of the evil that is Colderan.

The king rallied his troops, and toasted his new allies. Each of our heroes swore victory in the face of the mounting opposition, pledging to battle to the death to vanquish those who opposed equality for all. Each hero was greeted in turn with a rousing display of spirited applause. Well into the night did they enjoy the kindred company of the fellowship of arms.

The next day brought the boring task of marching to the rally point. Elements of the army had already been sent ahead, our heroes were among the second wave, positioning themselves out of sight in the foothills outside Millinbrook until nightfall. There, they waited.

When the appointed time came, anxious hearts beat swiftly. Sword hilts warmed to the touch of a calm hand, the combatants patiently waiting for the moment to come when the fury of their weapons would be unleashed. Darkness cascaded the city much like the army that encircled its walls and crept ever-closer.

Time stood silent as the fireballs arced through the sky and blasted the front gate and everyone manning it. First one heard the screams, and then you felt the blast as it emanated like a ripple of thunder across the hillside.

And then time erupted with a fury and vengeance our young heroes had never experienced. The army of Unther crashed into the city as waves of Zhentarim guards flocked to the courtyard. The armored spearmen were protected from the hail of arrows from the walls by a stalwart formation of shields held above them. More fireballs erupted, blasting the shocked Zhents. Within moments, the battlefield was gripped by a thick layer of smoke, some from the fires, and some from the king’s wizards.

And off our stalwart adventurers went. Caught in the unbridled excitement, they charged down the hillside, shouting the battle cry of Lord Randall along side the streaking column of mounted knights. They lept over the dead and dying Zhents, reaching the gate, peeling off along the wall at full speed. In the darkness they streaked towards the ruined temple.

Lord Randall’s men leapt into action as soon as the Zhents spotted Dexa “running” across the courtyard, clanking like a gnomish steam engine. Arrows came raining down and the Zhents were engaged. Fortunately, many of the guards were engaged with those scaling the walls from the outside. With a nod, the soldiers of Unther watched our heroes descend into the ruined temple of Lathandar.

The place had changed little since the group sacked it earlier in the week. With little fanfare the ran as quickly as possible to the subterranean entrance to Colderans tower. There, they smashed their way into the bedchamber where Tren had been killed. The room was empty, Colderan was no where to be found.

Beyond the entrance to Colderans chamber, a battle had already begun….

[DM_Bolan]

“Ssssshhhhhhh!” hissed Dexa. Everyone froze, her voice had conveyed a sense of urgency she had never expressed before. She knelt down and put her palms just above the stone floor. Within seconds, she looked up at Morvian, her expression frozen. “RUN – back to the temple, now!”

For an instant, no one moved, not knowing what to make of this outburst. The time was at hand to put an end to the Mage Lord Colderan. Lord Randall’s forces had smashed into the Zhentarim troops. Was Dexa the victim of some foul magic? They stood just outside the room likely to be the site of this final conflict. They had found their way into the temple under the cover of darkness and the diversion of Lord Randall’s attack. It seemed easy, too easy when they climbed up the ladder from the ruined temple into the ruler’s tower in Millinbrook.

In fact, it was too easy. And Dexa frantically shouted, now moving at full tilt towards the trap door. She didn’t even pause to climb down the ladder choosing to jump.

Then the rest of the group still standing mostly slack-jawed, moving towards the trap door, felt the ground below their feet begin to rumble….. THAT got them moving. No one really stopped to consider if Dexa’s plan was a good one. But staying where they were suddenly seemed like a bad idea. Even as the first to follow Dexa began descending the ladder, the intensity of the rumble had escalated… The first swell of the ground nearly knocked our heroes from their feet…. “Into the caves, now, we must get out of here…..” Dexa pleaded the others to follow her.

===

Lord Randall stood proudly inside the ruined gate, surveying the battle field. He could see that his forward spear/shield element had surpassed his expectations. They had not only broken through the gate and the first responding troops but they had smashed their way to the constables tower with relative ease. Behind them, the disorganized stragglers were hacked down. Skilled stealth specialists breached the upper level and silently eliminated archers. The battle was nearly over before it started. Soon he would wear the crown of Unther again….

Randall thought a shadow passed over and looked to the west of town just as the ground began to rumble. Nothing he had experienced in Unther compared to this and he was unsure of what to do. Streams of his men began retreating back towards the gate, suddenly paying no attention to the Zhents who seemingly had no idea what was happening either…

His expression turned from confusion, to grave acceptance. In a moment, he watched the shadow continuing to rise. The shadow had a form – it was a wall of earth, perhaps 100 feet high rolling from the cliffs to the west directly towards him. The pitch of the thunderous rumble reached a deafening tone…. His men now sprinting directly away, running for their lives, hoping to outrun the hundred foot wave of stone and earth that would crash down upon them.

He watched as the wave through hundreds of ancient trees in the air like pine needles. They were flung in the direction of town and began landing on the western edge of the city raining down like 100 foot spears.

And then Randall stopped watching, as he too turned and ran for his life. His kingdom would be in ruins, but his people would need him now more than ever. He didn’t see as his traditional home, the tower of the constable Tren Noemfur, the seat of power in Unther, the home of his family for two hundred years was engulfed by the quake – surge burying everything in its path.

The last thing Randall heard was the sound of water splashing as he tried hopelessly to cross the river.

===

“Here, get in here….” Dexa barked at the group. The thunderous sound of the quake reverberated less this far under ground but it was disconcerting none the less. They had ducked into a small hidden room after traversing the long hallway leading back to the temple proper and deeper under ground. They sat nervously in the room, built as a strongroom for treasure it was the stoutest and smallest structure they could find.

The sound eventually faded, leaving the group staring vacantly at each other unsure of what to do next. Eventually, it was decided a group should go back to the tower entrance and see if the tower and Colderan remained. Another group would investigate the immediate area.

Within minutes it was clear that the tower and probably most of Millinbrook lie under the ruined mountain. But what kind of being could wield such power? Could Colderan have done this himself?

It was Fierlas and Vex who retraced their steps back towards the ruined temple entrance. After completing their task, the group was reunited in the fungus room.

It was agreed that the tower was done for – the way was not only blocked by rubble, it was destroyed, replace by granite shards and a sea of dirt and trees.

Fierlas had the most information of use. “Aaeld, the water nymph, I’m afraid she has passed. But, “ she paused, “It was likely Colderan who killed her, and it was within the hour. He can’t have gotten out through the tower and he can’t have gotten out through the temple entrance as it too is buried. That leaves only one route he could have taken to flee… the passage to the Underdark….”

[DM_Bolan]

(note, we missed two weeks between session 14 and 15)

From the distance, all the group could see was the kobold Thock, gesturing wildly, hopping up and down and occasionally pointing in the vague direction of where they were hiding.

“He’s going to give us away…… the guards will be upon us!” hissed Dexa.

“Give him a chance, we still have a good tactical position here….. Just be patient….” The others tried to soothe the anxious dwarf.

“We should have killed him the first chance we had…” the dwarf grumbled.

===

The dark elf command had a perplexed look on his face…. “What?”

“Cleaners, yes sir, that’s us, we clean up after that wizard who came through here, you know the one <wink wink> well that guy leaves a lot of messes about, and me and my expert crew, we come in and clean up the mess…..”

Thock overtaken by a moment of obsessiviness begins polishing the commander’s breastplate. “Now cut that out!” howled the commander.

As the commander hurriedly slaps away the overzealous kobold he continues speaking, “The portal is usable by all, for a price, the Drow empire holds this portal as their own, but in truth, we are granted access to portals across Faerun as well, so it is by custom that passage is granted to all.”

“I shall return with my assistants!” shouted the kobold as he headed back into the darkness, presumably to round up the rest of the party.

The trip to the portal had been nerve wracking. Every step of the miles-long passage way was punctuated by odd sounds, slithering noises, drips, low moaning and wailing in the distance. Every odd looking step had to be checked closely for traps or hazards. Every moment, the party felt like they might be set upon.

Ultimately, they had decided on this course because other avenues seemed off-task. They could try and dig their way out of the temple ruins, now buried under the massive quake. Surely, survivors of the quake would be in great need of aid. They could follow Aaeld’s watery tunnels or the underground river out of the temple. But it was unanimous, Colderan must die, and if Colderan went into the Underdark, they would follow him to the gates of hell and beyond.

It was easy to follow him, his wet footsteps leaving clear prints in the layers of dust. They followed his precise path through the myriad of connected tunnels and caverns. Indeed, he seemed to know exactly where he was going.


The trip was almost over before it started. The group had retraced their steps to the passage leading to the Underdark. Baeryc had thrown a rope across the swiftly flowing river, and made his way across, but nearly got washed down stream. In an incredibly stupid maneuver, the group did not take any additional precautions before Dexa started across. She too had a difficult time, losing her grip on the rope – only she wasn’t as lucky as Baeryc. In her heavy armor, and with no other safety line, the party watched in horror as the dwarf slipped into the dark waters.

It was Fierlas who acted first, securing a line about herself she jumped into the icy water while Baeryc held the line fast. But it was pitch dark, and the water pounded her like a frost hammer. “I CAN’T SEE HER…..” shouted the druid, desperate for any sign from Dexa.

Orodreth fell to his knees. Throwing has hands to the heavens and proselytizing , knowing he had only one chance, Oro dove deep into his spiritual connection seeking the aid of Rillifane Rallathil. He had done this before, in times of great peril, but had never been successful in this most urgent of prayers. This time, it was different… His prayer had been heard…. And answered.

Dexa felt panic as she hit the water. She had never liked water, and he swimming was good only by dwarven standards. She was done for. Her armor carried her downward while the swiftly flowing river carried her into the darkness and down. She felt her lungs fill as she flowed down stream. What a dishonorable way to die, a slip on a rope and her quest to slay the evil sorcerer who killed her family and destroyed her home would end on such an ignominious note.

She slammed hard into a rock, before everything went dark.

Fierlas was suddenly overcome by a moment of divine clarity. Orodreth’s prayers had been answered, and in the darkness, suddenly Fierlas was granted unfettered view, the whole river being brilliantly lit, and the slumped form of Dexa outlined in a fiery blue hue. “I see her!” shouted Fierlas as she dove under and swam as fast as she could towards the dwarf.

“Pull the rope!” shouted Vex.

“NOT YET “ came the booming voice of Baeryc. “Wait, we will know the time!”

And it came only moments later, the rope was tugged three times clearly and Baeryc and the others began to pull the rope back just as fast as they could. Fierlas staggered out of the river with one hand clasped on Dexas breastplate. With a massive pull the entire group crashed to the ground. Immediately Orodreth and the others administered aid, and after anxious moments, Dexa began coughing up water and cursing in dwarven.

Morvian quipped that was the longest she had been quiet in months.

They had allowed some time for Dexa to recuperate and then began their journey to follow Colderan. As mentioned, the twisting passageways were often treacherous, frequently spooky and unilaterally dangerous.

It was not without incident either. While traveling, the party disturbed a giant praying mantis. This time it was Fierlas who took the full fury of the huge insect. The party watched in horror as the mantis impaled Fierlas and shook her violently while seeking its hideous mandibles into her writhing body.

It too was quickly vanquished, leaving the party bloodied and anxious to find the wizard Colderan.

And when they came upon an enormous cavern bisected by another underground river – they found something they had only heard of in stories – Dark Elves, the Drow. And there was a lot of them. After several suggested strategies that included frontal assault, flank assault, sneak attack, diversion and sneak attack, attack, then flank, then attack some more, Thock volunteered to “scout”.

After overhearing enough to know that Colderan had been this way, and entered some kind of “portal” Thock decided he could “negotiate” his way past the Drow army. And thus, he concocted the story that he was the chief “cleaner” for the wizard Colderan. The Drow commander was not really interested in why this kobold and his “cleaning crew” would want to enter the portal, but as long as they didn’t represent a threat to the drow empire, he didn’t care who went through.

And so the party en masse, approached the river mildly pretending to be members of an elite janitorial squad of kobolds. They were escorted on to a boat. Previously, another group had gotten on this same boat, and floated down river, now it was back empty. The short distance down the river passed quickly, the boat steered into a narrow cleft in the rock that opened into an underground cove. In the center of the cove was a small island. At the center of the island, amongst hundreds of Drow warriors, was a shimmering portal of energy.

The group disembarked, marching up the long stairs to the top where a powerful looking group of Drow stood flanked by soldiers. One drow, nearly six feet tall and bearing swords at both hips stepped forward.

“There is no need to disguise yourselves, poorly at that. You will need to pay the portal tax however. 100 gold for humans, 200 for dwarves and 500 for white elves. Short races are 50. You can pay, or you can return from whence you came.”

As his words faded, 200 drow warriors snapped their gleaming weapons to attention in unison.

NOTE: We are still looking for players!

[ElementEvil]

Limitations on class and race? I've been trying to play a binder since before 4e came out.

[DM_Bolan]

Class and race per PHB / Forgotten Realms sourcebook only.

Send me a private mail :)

[DM_Bolan]

Next Session 11/16 @ 11 AM CST.

A Funny thing happened on the way to the portal…

“What do you mean he was no Drow?” Asked the portal guardian.

“It is true sir, that wizard is known for altering his appearance. He clearly has human ancestors, sworn to us by his own great grandson.” Replied Morvian.

“If this is true, than he shall die for crimes against the drow empire!” roared the commander.

Quietly, the group smiled at each other realizing they had just convinced a representative of the Drow empire that Colderan the wizard had committed a capital crime – impersonating a Drow. Colderan went from neutral to dead as soon as we find you in the eyes of the dark elves.

Which was helpful, because frankly no one knew where the portal led. Making the portal guardians friendly meant they shared a bit of information, not much, but enough to know death wasn’t imminent when they entered the magical gateway.

The trip through the portal itself was not exactly painful, but overwhelmingly uncomfortable and disorienting. The party felt their spirits sucked through prematurely while their disassembled corporeal forms followed. Even the most stalwart found themselves blacking out, only to wake by hitting a cold stone floor hard.

And they had a companion, a strikingly beautiful dark elf named Malisce D’Corboral. She was sent by the portal guardians to confirm the truth about Colderan. Find him using magic to reap the many benefits of being noble dark blood, and he would die by order of the Drow Empire.

The entire contingent of dark elves assigned to guard the portal gave Malisce a wide berth. She bore insignias of gold, her equipment was excellent, and she carried the dominant aura that was reserved for females of her race. She was of high station, she emanated power.

The party held her suspiciously, but it didn’t faze her. She seemed confident that the rag-tag group of heroes posed no threat to her – yet she seemed alarmingly alert – prepared for a death struggle in every breath. The group followed her through the tunnels, navigating to the fresh air, reaching the surface to survey a strange and fascinating new landscape.

Twin suns! This world had two suns, but their combined light only managed to produce a sky of blue-violet. The massive sun to the “west” covered have the horizon with it’s blazing red flames disappearing into it’s rich violet center. The other sun shone bluish green producing the disturbing combination of hues.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” remarked Malisce. “I long for a world of darkness that lie above the twisted tunnels of the Underdark. Perhaps I have found it? You probably find it distasteful…”

The group had decided that the most likely reason Colderan would have fled from Millinbrook was to rally some allies. These would be people he knew – for his path to this place was deliberate. Likely, he intended to return with his forces to finish the job he started.

That mean he was likely to seek civilization of some sort – he was a wizard, he would need access to spell materials and such – he would be headed to a city. So they struck out across the broken plains, following the mountain range to afford some cover if they were attacked.

This was a strange “desert” to travel. The footing was treacherous with the broken shards of obsidian shifting underneath every stop. Creatures large and small slithered amongst the rocks or flapped overhead. Numerous times, our heroes found themselves leaping into defensive arrangement only to find out some big bug had crawled out of a hole and started clicking noisily. It made for nerve wracking travel.

No journey through this realm is safe, and it was inevitable that something would ultimately notice the party and consider their position on the food chain. But none of them expected a full blown monstrosity from the abyss or 9 hells to come charging out of nowhere, intent on slaughtering our heroes.

The beast was violent, deliberate and nearly lethal. He drove his dreaded cursed glaive into party members one by one inflicting the maximum amount of damage and taking glee in their pain. The battle waged back and forth as Morvian’s spells were easily defeated by the beast who deflected the parties most fervent blows.

With the bearded devil wounded grievously, they watched in horror as it began a powerful summoning ritual, within moments, more of his kind would arrive, the situation was desperate and one final heroic assault put the beast down for good.

Evening was going to be upon them soon, they had a good ways to travel before they would reach the city proper. They collected themselves, attended to the wounded and prepared to resume their trek. It was then that Dexa stated simply, “I think there is something wrong with me……”

Whirling to see the dwarf, despite the extensive healing she’s received, blood is running from her eyes and nose and mouth. Slowly the crimson streams flow down her breastplate.

[DM_Bolan]

“OW! OW! HOT HOT! HOT!”

Thock jumped up and down frantically grabbing at his pants. The rest of the group looked around stunned, unsure if this was some strange kobold mating ritual (which made Dexa very nervous) or if there was something actually HOT in his pants.

Everything had suddenly changed again. It had been a lovely evening at the Ubiquitous Wayfarer, a rather cosmopolitan tavern near the heart of the lower ward in Cassandra. The gnome, Raggles, had suggested if the group was tired of the same-old ho-hum they could visit the Wayfarer. There they would find the best music and dancing in town – and more importantly, they could possibly learn the whereabouts of a certain mage – Colderan.

The group had cautiously entered the City Of Cassandra – already aware that it was very different than any city they had been to before. It was enormous, stretching for miles, and it’s many unusual styles of architecture were often scaled for both human sized beings, and those much, much larger. The group got a sly look when they asked why the main gate was called “Dragon’s Gate” and the main thoroughfare was the “Street Of Dragons”.

They had settled in at a tavern known as the Broken Goblet. After enjoying a good meal and enjoying the music of the boisterous gnome, they hit upon the idea of visiting the Ubiquitous Wayfarer. Raggles claimed the music there was second to none and that immediately inspired Dexa to want to visit.

The gnome hadn’t hit it off with everyone. Thock, the kobold was less than impressed and became rather irate at the various taunts sent his way to get him to dance. Things nearly came to blows before the group settled the pair down. Thock could only roll his eyes when they invited the bard to come along with them.

Before settling at the inn, the party had cautiously investigated the Free League – a guild open to anyone. It was made up of like-minded, freedom-loving individuals who perhaps didn’t see a lot of value in many of the other formal guilds in town, such as the Transcendent Order or the Xaositects.

So having found a safe organization to at least informally attach to, they set off to enjoy the evening and look for Colderan. The reputation of the Wayfarer meant that they traveled, armed, ready for nearly anything. And when they arrived, what they found was incredible. The Wayfarer was apparently the local hang out for just about any species that traveled the planes. The place was absolutely packed, with all manner of foul beast, fey creature and plain old humans. There were tanar’ri, githyanki, a balor, and several other beasts that under normal circumstances, would be high on the group list of things to kill. This place was clearly NOT the place to start a fight.

The evening was quite enjoyable, Raggles and Dexa immediately took up to singing and dancing, making acquaintances with the dancing troupe of imps and the band. Although Raggles claimed no role in it, somehow the imps convinced Thock he should dance too. You’d have thought they were roasting him on a spit, although that would be a distinct possibility here.

Vexander and Orodreth found themselves involved in a stirring debate about the nature of the universe – could a being, any being, actually change who and what they are. One group, who seemed disheveled and disorganized, (even their chairs!) felt change was always possible while the other seemingly order-bound group felt that a person or even a balor could not just change…. The balor at the bar took exception and they exited the conversation quickly before something really bad happened.

The only down side to the evening was the serving wench Mirta. What an idiot. She could never get the drink orders right, asking over and over to take the party’s order, and bringing the wrong drinks. She even dropped off a bottle of wine and some change intended for the unusual pair at the next table.

And that’s where the trouble began…..

Dexa felt the voice of the planetar at the table with his “lady” friend the marilith fill her mind, the voice asking her to return their bottle of wine. Having never experienced such a thing, it caused her some distress. Reacting quickly and perhaps foolishly, she tried to joke and banter. She was quickly reminded that mariliths can order “fresh dwarf stew” here. “Not funny she thought, not funny at all”.

With all the commotion going on, no one had noticed that Thock had “inadvertently” swiped the remaining change on the table. Knowing that the marilith would want her coins he suggested that perhaps they should be going for the night. Quickly shooing the group out the front door, something completely unexpected happened.

It seemed as though the door was replaced with a sandy trail, at the far end, you could see a golden outline of a doorway. Behind, the tavern was gone, the sandy trail leading into nothingness. The group began to panic when Thock began jumping up and down hollering about something being hot. Indeed, it was one of the coins from the table at the tavern.

Unable to go back, the group pushed down the path through the black void until they reached the golden doorway…. When they stepped through, they couldn’t believe their eyes….

[DM_Bolan]

For heroes it happened occasionally to see a being draw its last breath. And the sight of some hideous foul beast suffering a fatal defeat sort of came with the territory. But when you see one of your own – a human pass, it reminds one of just how fragile our existence is.

"HEEEEELLLLLLPPPPP MMMEEEEEEE" had come a scream, but there was no chance to truly help the poor man. They watched in silent horror as the color washed from his face as his life was drained away – impaled upon the great foreclaws of a bebilith – a huge demonic spider of sorts. The beast descended on the man, a young human, skewered him, and shook him violently like some kind of rag doll. The lifeless form was then thrown to the floor, the bebilith seemingly gleeful about his victory.

Times have changed for our heroes – this act would have provoked an immediate response – a swift and brutal reprisal. But having inadvertently pocketed a portal key belonging to a marilith, they had arrived in some bizarre tavern of the abyss, a demonic crossroads of sorts. Here, they were outnumbered fifty to one by powerful creatures of the abyss.

Hundreds of tanar'ri were enjoying the hellish tavern. Many too large and disgusting for the party to contemplate fighting – just one, let alone hundreds. All they could do, was watch in horror as the bebilith ended the poor mortal.

Thock of course had been the source of all this trouble. Having swiped the change left at their table at another inn, the Ubiquitous Wayfarer, he had unknowingly picked up a portal key belonging to the maritlith at the next table. Knowing he might be in trouble for the minor theft, Thock urged the party to leave… "After all, we need our beauty rest!" Morvian agreed and that was enough to convince the group they should head back to their rooms at the Broken Goblet. As they exited the tavern, the portal key did it's task, and they suddenly found themselves, well, in hell.

There was of course, the immediate desire to go back! The abyss was no place for those of goodly nature. Surely there was a portal here to return…. Surely? Perhaps they should just exit the tavern – then they would be free to travel….. the abyss? Hm… not really very promising options they decided. So, as best they could, they tried to "blend in".

They watched a poor sod, who apparently, failed to blend in. A bunch of tanar'ri played some drinking game – hit the wizard with a dart, you get a drink. Each successful round, you could hear the wizard howl in anguish, but again, there was little our heroes could do given the circumstances.

Dexanis as usual, had no trouble making friends. She accepted the advances of some orangutan looking beast, even having the drink with him. Fortunately, she drew the line when Blarj, the bar-igura invited her to his mud-hole. This was the moment when the party became aware of another goodly creature in the tavern. It spoke to them telepathically. Eventually, they spied a vrock, a vulture looking Tanari'ri who signaled for them to be patient and careful, and perhaps yet they would find a way out.

Some of the group tried to help prop Dexa up while simultaneously trying to quell her uninhibited dwarven nature. Whatever she drank made her VERY friendly. While Raggles tried various forms of his music to limited success, Morvian moved to speak directly with the vrock. Eventually, they learned his real name was Ybdiel and that he was a deva, an angel of sorts. He was willing to help the group return to Cassandra, once his business here was complete.

He never revealed what his business was, because the screaming human entering the tavern interrupted him. As the man died, the vrock/Ybidel watched in vain – and then, in stunned silence, he watched as his spark, the energy that fueled his good deeds, lingered in mid-air searching for a new host, and it found one – the bebilith.

Immediately, Ybdiel shifted from his disguise as a vrock to his real form, and engaged the bebilith. The massive spider immediately scored two hits and sank it's great fangs into Ybidiels shoulder. It was clear, Ybdiel was not nearly as strong as his usual self without his spark.

Sensing the deva would be lost without their aid, our stalwart heroes jumped into action. The force of the deva spark had startled and scattered the tanari'ri from the common room. But as the battle unfolded, they began gambling on the outcome and as soon as the party revealed themselves to be helping an angel, they began closing a circle around them. The bebilith vanished, the deva now lay dying in their arms, and 200 tanari'ri were closing in to consume them.

They did what any brutally outnumbered, brutally-underpowered band of young adventurers would do. They ran, they ran, they ran like little girls. Following the deva's weakening instructions, they leapt through an archway and into the baths of the transcendent order.

Gaining the aid of Quick Cari, a member of the transcendant order and Rhys, her unusual superior, they learned of the great gymnasium. While the Ciphers cared for the deva, they took the opportunity to rest, and take care of some errands. When they returned to the check on Ybdiel, his condition was worsening. He now lay in a coma like condition. During his moments of lucidity, he spoke of returning to Elysium, to share his knowledge with his master, and he spoke our the heroes who had helped him – they should escort him to Elysium.

And so it was, once again, a portal key in hand, they left the city of Cassandra, and entered the lush and fertile goodness of Elysium.

[DM_Bolan]

Vexander doubled over, a grimace on his face, his hands clasped to his ears. And within a moment, he seemed fine. He was pale and shaking. It had come from nowhere, and had left silently, whatever “it” was...

“I’m alright, I’m alright…. But there is something horribly awry, I heard the screaming of innocents in my mind…. It was…. Too real.” As the blood returned to his face, he hesitantly stammered “I, um, I prayed….. and well, my prayer was answered…”

“Wow, prayer huh…… no offense my friend, but um, I would have doubted a power would be inclined to answer you…..” which drew a chuckle from the others.

Orodreth cut them off. “Don’t mock the lad, these are unusual and powerful circumstances. If he has had a moment of inspiration, an affirmation of his faith, you should understand how moving it can be.”

More snickers, though muted followed, and some whispered comments about “movements” quickly diminished at a glare from the priest.

“Get sheep now!” hollered Thock. And the group realized they had diverted from their appointed task – taking the deva Ybdiel home. The shepherds they had encountered were busy laying to rest a member of the transcendent order. The poor bloke had been run through with huge claws.

The shepherds had explained the bebilith arrived here with the man’s body. Likely the fellow had the unfortunate luck to be carrying a portal key to Elysium. The bebilith probably lie in wait at the portal under an unsuspecting traveler came along. When the moment arrived, he killed the traveler and thus gained the portal key to Elysium.

But the shepherds also told a strange tale of how the bebilith was seemingly sorry for his actions. Almost bewildered. Then it ran off. During the retelling of the story, it seems a lamb wandered off into the river. With almost comical melodrama, the party helped the shepherd recover the struggling animal in the 3 feet of slowly flowing water.

The shepherds were most appreciative of the help. Eager to assist, they explained that moving through the realm was accomplished by completing acts of goodness. They merely needed to focus on the place they wanted to go, and begin traveling in any direction. With no clear direction presenting itself, they decided to follow the river.

The river led past the Rollicking Crescent – under normal conditions a lovely country inn. Today however, Vexander through divinely inspired clairaudience, had heard the screams of agony coming from the inn. Now, as they approached, the proprietor Astrid, spattered with blood, rushed out begging our heroes to aid her. It seems the bebilith had been through here, destroyed most of the inn, and left the victims to die in the rubble.

Instantly, the group began to dig out survivors. Vexander soon understood – the path to help the deva was through acts of goodness, and the closest one was the Rollicking Crescent. Morvian tended to the deva, while those of more physical prowess dug out the victims of the collapse.

Curiously, Astrid explained that the bebilith indeed attacked, but when given the opportunity to kill her and a child she was shielding, it just ran off. Again, it’s motives seemed conflicted. Orodreth theorized that the deva spark was imparting some level of goodness in the otherwise abhorrent bebilith.

It wasn’t long before Morvian’s alarm was raised! The bebilith had returned, intent upon killing the deva, or so it seemed. Morvian went toe to claw with the giant brute spider ultimately ending up webbed. A valiant effort by the group was for naught as Abaia, the bebilith drew his foreclaws down on Ybdiel. To everyone’s surprise, they both disappeared!

The need for aid amid the rubble was great, and so everyone immediately returned to the task of saving the victims save for Morvian, who spent some time freeing himself from the sticky goo of the webs. For six hours, our heroes toiled at the task of removing rubble, and aiding survivors, healing those that they could and saying a prayer for those they couldn’t.

Eventually, they learned of a place of healing called Conclave Fidelis. There, they could seek a solution to the deva’s issue. Of course, now they needed to find the deva. And the Bebilith. And Colderan.

Having finally mastered the concept of traveling in the strange realm of Elysium, it only took a few hours to locate the monastery. There they encountered an abbot named Cebulon. He turned out to be one heck of an well-informed guy.

First, indeed there was a way to cure the deva—and the bebilith. It involved a series of tasks – his words:

“Take the chalice and fill it with the waters of serenity from Lake Serene. Then find the gem of harmony, in the nest of a phoenix about to immolate itself, and place the gem in the calm water. Finally, all three must be taken to the center of the Labyrinth of Accord in Ornwood Forest. When all involved successfully walk the maze with the Items of Accord, you will find peace and unity of self. Then the healing can begin."

“No problem, we’ll get right on that….” Gulped Dexa. [whisper] did he say LAKE Serene? You know, I’m not going in the water…. Oh no…”

But the abbot, a proxy of Lathandar, was in tune with the bigger issues the party was facing. He understood who they were, why they were here, and what significance they held. And indeed it was a grim picture.

Cassandra as it turned out, was the way it was, twin suns, violet skies, wastelands of inhospitable predators, because it had suffered the effects of powerful magic. So powerful, it had caused thousands of permanent planar portals to hellish places to open all over the world. It had allowed the great powers of evil to come and go as they wished, building great alliances, mutating their evil hordes to greater heights of brutish power. The hordes washed across the face of world, crushing all that was good and bringing darkness, pain and death. Powerful wizards casting magic so powerful, it literally drained the life from the world. Left behind in it’s wake – destruction, endless paths to evil domains, corruption of the fabric of the world.

The army of wizards is known as “the thousand” and the group was horrified to learn that Morvian was indeed one of “the thousand”. He had seen a premonition of a great battle, in a place that looked like the world Cassandra was in. He was determined not to give in to what seemed like his destiny.
More terrifying….. it appeared that Colderan was one of the thousand also, and that they were marshalling their forces to attack Faerun. Cebulon stunned the party when he told them flatly, that Lathandar had learned of another overseer of the gods, a second being capable of creating universes… a rival for Lord Ao.

It seems Empress Maligna desires another realm to add to her domain. And she doesn’t mind agitating Lord Ao in the process.

The abbot went on to explain that they could call the bebilith to them at any time, and he did. The creature, 9 feet tall, an agile spider creature with tremendous combat potential, somehow was respectful of the abbot, almost reverent.

It was the abbott’s final words that were most difficult to accept. “Abaia has become something new, a creature with a hope of goodness…. To kill him now, would be wrong. You must find a way to save both the deva and the bebilith. Good luck…”

[DM_Bolan]

They all watched in horror. There was nothing anyone could do. Vexander hit the ground, bounced, and lie motionless at the bottom of the cliff face.

It seemed unreal. It was such a simple climb – and he was a well seasoned climber. The bebilith, Abaia, he carefully constructed almost 1000 feet of silk netting to provide climbing paths for the party. While Morvian flew to the top with Raggles, Dexa and Vexander had begun the long ascent. Dexa had taken a fall too, but it was nothing compared to the 75 foot fall that Vex took. As Orodreth and the others converged at the scene, they were horrified to see the crumpled bloody form of their friend. His motionless, vacant expression made them assume he was dead outright. Blood poured from his head wounds, indeed from all his wounds. It appeared he had broken nearly every major bone in his body. Landing on the jagged rocks at the bottom tore him limb from limb. Tears streaming from his eyes, Orodreth began casting every healing magic he could summon. It was many tense minutes before the exhausted priest would declare flatly…. “I think he’ll live.”

Elysium was a wonderful and beautiful place. They had left the monastery, Conclave Fidelis to begin a quest to heal both the deva, Ybdiel, as well as the Bebilith Abaia. The nine foot tall spider had changed markedly since they met him. He seemed a bit shorter and his coloring had lightened. He was constantly running off as his tortured emotions swung him between his extremes – one moment prancing and frolicking through the meadows, and the next – ripping sheep apart and hurling them across the landscape. The deva, lie hidden somewhere by Abaia, who even now, would not give up the location until his own life was guaranteed. And so they began in earnest the trip to purify the deva and the bebilith and return the deva spark to it’s rightful being.

Cebulon, the monk had carefully explained what they needed to do. They were provided with the chalice of peace. This chalice, when filled with water from Lake Serene, and joined with a gem of harmony, would resolve the fading life of the deva, and the emerging goodly being the bebilith was becoming. The party would need to find a phoenix about to immolate, and ask him for the gem of harmony. Once the items were prepared, they part would need to venture to Ornwood forest, and negotiate the “tests” present in a mythical labyrinth. Only then would all be restored as it should.

The party had learned that performing acts of goodness and kindness could accelerate their travel throughout the realm. The bebilith had learned the hard way, that travel was extremely difficult when acts of goodness and kindness are not in your usual nature. So as they crossed the Elysium countryside, they quickly found ways to make the time pass more quickly. Helping shepherds or farmers, repairing a bridge, freeing a trapped animal, anything they could do to help. And it worked. They quickly made progress. At least until Abaia’s past caught up with him.

Another more powerful Tanari’ri (and one could argue, not the brightest lot in the abyss) had stalked Abaia to Elysium to kill him and claim the deva’s spark. The battle was bloody, and nearly fatal, but our heroes prevailed, and sent Garish, the Hezrou, back to where he came from once and for all. Undoubtedly the foul beast would spend an eon performing some torturous task for his master, a victim of his own greed.

Eventually, after traversing a great distance in Elysium, and seemingly helping every sheep in the region, they wound the mountainous area where the Phoenix was said to be building it’s nest. And despite the various wounds, they did manage to reach the top, and found there, a most inquisitive Phoenix. The great bird however, would not part with the gem of harmony. Remembering the gift they had received from the imps in the Ubiquitous Wayferer, they exchanged the sweetfire herbs for the gem of harmony, a trade which the phoenix found acceptable. The great beast produced a spectacular immolation as he left them with a cryptic message: "Only a unified vessel can hold the deva spark. The gem can be such an item, once it has been prepared. Remember the Rule of Threes: truth, destruction, and peace will see you through." With the gem of harmony in hand, and the chalice of peace, they headed for Lake Serene.

It was unanimously decided that green grass and blue skies could be just as boring a trip as slogging through a swamp or wandering around underground caves. Swift progress was hard to make, there just weren’t a lot of good deeds waiting to be done along the way.

Upon reaching Lake Serene, the party was immediately accosted by the guardians of the lake – the mythical moon dogs. These beautiful beasts stand 6 feet tall at the shoulder and have a very human like face. And they were none too pleased about allowing a greater tanari’ri free access to the lake, one of Lathandar’s most holiest of places. It took careful negotiations for the group to be allowed to past. They pointed out they had been directed by Cebulon of Conclave Fidelis and indeed had met with the great phoenix…. Surely, if those powerful beings saw fit to trust our heroes, so should the moon dogs. The moon dogs disagreed, but they did agree to hold off eating the party until they reached the labyrinth of accord.

By the time they reached the labyrinth, they had become confident, almost ****y. Why, who would dare attack in a land so fair and friendly as Elysium? (Besides a greater tanari’ri) They were adventurers bound by the task of a deva, a proxy of Lathandar. They did the bidding of Cebulon, the abbot of Conclave Fidelis. Whoever shalt stand between them and the labyrinth and the will of Lathandar?

Actually, his name is Dargus. Dargus the Per.

The edge of Ornwood forest was held by a huge host of soldiers, peasants and creatures of Elysium. They had heard of the destruction wrought by the bebilith. They had heard how he killed nearly everyone at the Rollicking Crescent inn. They had heard about murdered sheep and peasants strewn across the land. They had heard of the group of “heroes” who aided the foul beast. And thus, an army was raised and they marched to the labyrinth ahead of the party. Ultimately, Dargus had his army stand down too. They numbered in the hundreds with the aid of the moon dogs and a gold dragon, they surely would have wiped out the party. But it was not to be on this day. They too would let the labyrinth decide the group’s fate.

And so they entered the enormous forest of Ornwood. The beautiful trees soaring above their heads, the sounds of a myriad of birds filling the air. Gentle breezes guided them across the woods to a clearing – and there stood the sparkling hedges of the labyrinth of accord.

Each step brought a shiver to their spines….

[DM_Bolan]

The nymph sang inquisitively to the group “Have you brought the other?”

At first, it didn’t make sense. The other what? But as our heroes surveyed themselves for an answer, all eyes turned to the enormous spider creature, Abaia.

“The deva, Abaia, where is the deva?” shouted virtually everyone telepathically to the good-intentioned bebilith.

“Oh, yeah, um, sorry…..” and with that the tanar’ri disappeared.

Anytime Abaia wasn’t immediately where he was supposed to be was a cause for concern – he had a history of losing focus at the worst time. He also had a history that suggested he could turn savage with devastating consequences. The patrons of the Rollicking Crescent had been slaughtered by the beast indiscriminately. Still, he had come a long way towards proving his changing nature. Enough so that he now stood one step from complete transformation. Only a trip through the labyrinth of accord was needed to restore the spark to the deva and set things right.

And our heroes stood poised to enter said labyrinth…. If they only had Ybdiel the deva, they could begin. Of course, Abaia, during an earlier encounter had spirited away with the angel, already grievously ill from the loss of his spark. His condition worsened as time went on, and at this point, without his spark he will surely die, soon. Fortunately, Abaia did return promptly carrying the feverish planar. “Into the maze?” queried the bebilith.

The nymphs granted access to the hedges willingly – they were not it’s protectors, merely it’s custodian. The labyrinth was composed of great hedges, well groomed with blossom of all colors. They rose 20 feet and the uniform nature of the view made it difficult to even find a path. Every “corridor” led to some innocuous dead end. One had lovely sunflowers, another tiny bunnies frolicking in the grass. Another a pedestal with a gold fish bowl. It became obvious that these were small opportunities to perform acts of goodness. They fed the fish a few crumbs, gave water to the sunflowers and so forth. As they did, the labyrinth began to shift and open paths hidden before.

Eventually they came upon a beautiful yet deadly looking weave of spider webs. It was fascinating, the spiders creating elaborate creations out of their silk – but seemingly out of place here in Elysium, a land of goodness. The drow, Malisce found herself curiously drawn to these webs, and earned the gratitude of the labyrinth by sprinkling some glittering dust on the webs – creating a scintillating sparkling effect. Ever deeper into the labyrinth the party traveled, until suddenly Morvian completely vanished.

Baeryc proclaimed upon observing this “Well, I’ll just follow him, surely he has just disappeared to some other location…..”

Dexa and the others looked around at each other before agreeing in unison, “Looks very dangerous…. You go first!”

Ultimately they decided they really had no choice but to follow the wizard. If the labyrinth was to take them, it would take them all. With a gulp, a quick prayer and a unnecessary leap, each in turn jumped down the corridor they last saw Morvian.

Boy, was he glad to see them 

Following a few more twists in turns our heroes eventually heard a baby crying, and indeed found a translucent portal shimmering vaguely at the end of the corridor. Knowing the first test of the labyrinth lie beyond, they clasped hands and entered. They emerged Before him lie the first test. They found themselves outside a traveler’s inn. The building was on fire, and was surrounded by townfolk. A child screming, stand poised to jump out of a 2nd floor window. Flames shot out from every direction inside. Instantly our heroes leapt into action. Baeryc and Dexa closed as fast as they could to try and catch the child. Raggles began casting frantically, hoping feather fall might save the child. Just another chapter in our heroes storied history of saving others….

NOT.

Magic would not affect the child and when Baeryc and Dexa attempted to catch him, they seemingly changed their minds at the last moment. Everyone watched in horror as the child’s lifeless body shattered on the ground. It was then they realized that the faces, the faces were all the same – they were the face of the poor sod who had died in the tavern of the abyss – immediately after our heroes arrived there. It was almost beginning to make sense….

The deva meanwhile was losing it’s mind. Each of the 50 villagers who bore the same face claimed to have his spark, and yet none of them did. They taunted him, they teased him, and they reveled in his anguish. He stammered something about “how could this happen… he was a good soul, I saw him catch the child…”

And finally, they put it together. The deva had carelessly selected the recipient of his spark. He had witnessed a man catch a child, surely about to die. What he hadn’t realized is that that man – his name being Fachan, had actually started the fire and only caught the child out of reflex. He immediately put the child down, and ran off to start another fire – intending to kill innocents. The villagers put an end to him quickly, which is why he showed up in the abyss when he did. Consequently, Ybidel came face to face with his spark-bearer in the middle of the abyss. Enter Abaia, who accidentally acquired the spark and suffered the chaotic results.

Once they were able to convince the deva he had chosen an evil being, he faced the truth, and fulfilled the first part of the rule of threes: Truth.

Instantly, they found themselves at the second test. It was a hideous scene – seven of the abyss’ most vile – the vrock, were busy smashing, torturing and eating their lesser kin – the manes. They stood on a floor in a ghastly room filled with the wretched beasts. In a matter of moments, they enticed Abaia into joining them. Within a few minutes, it was obvious the powerful allure of his former habits had. He started enjoying snapping the manes in half, biting their heads off and hurling them at his new found friends. Dexa and Raggles both pleaded with the bebilith – citing a lack of time, citing a need to complete their quest, but their words were missing the point.

Finally when Dexa pushed the vrocks to the point where they were going to attack her, Abaia came through and fought side by side with the party. He nearly died, in fact several of the group suffered grievous wounds. But in the end, seven vrock died. The second part of the rule of threes had been satisfied – destruction.

The scene shifted once again, to the third test. They found themselves in a lush garden flanked by great hedges, similar to the labyrinth. In the center was a pool of sweet smelling water. Abaia and Ybdiel were there – their forms now seemingly lifeless. Both lie a few yards apart, their feverish bodies quivering under the duress of their ailment. Between them lie the blazing sphere of light and lift – the deva spark. It remained tethered there by nine strands of magic – six of which tied it to the bebilith, and three to the deva. The third part of the rule of threes was at their fingertips – the items of accord in hand, the deva and bebilith here together, the tests have been passed.

Third part of the rule of three was peace.

Too bad the sixteen foot tall bebilith, resembling an angrier, more deadly version of Abaia doesn’t get the whole peace concept. After he kills Abaia and Ybidiel, and takes the spark for his own, he’ll probably devour our heroes too.

[DM_Bolan]

“That’s odd….” Thought Ademma as he stood at the foot of the stone bridge. Below the aging structure flowed the river Evenfall. It wasn’t the river that caught the paladin by surprise, it was the bridge. It had been a few years since he had been down the north road, but this was the land where he hand roamed free and wide as a youth. He knew this area well, and there was something wrong about this bridge.
It was at that moment that the difference between “book learning” paladins and “school of hard knocks” paladins rises to the forefront. Common sense would suggest that caution would be in order. The bridge could be a trap. There was no need to cross, let alone cross here. Still, one educated in a “worldly” fashion was driven by a certain curiosity which often opened doors to adventure, fame, fortune or instant death. Ademma counted his options – “Hm, three out of those our are good things….” He secured his chin strap, loosed his weapon and placed one foot on the bridge.
As soon as he crossed, he knew something was very wrong…. Or rather very right. The road continued across the bridge and beyond, twisting over a ridge out of sight. The young half-elf found a sense of peace and harmony here he’d never quite experienced. To his surprise, he saw a commotion on the hilltop beyond the ridge. A large group was seemingly gathered. They stood in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by grazing groups of sheep. There seemed to be someone motioning to him….
And that’s when things got REALLY weird.
It’s seems the young paladin had caught the attention of Palabar, a powerful proxy of the god Lathander. He had been summoned to Elysium for a suddenly urgent task. Imagine, training your whole life in skill at arms, horsemanship, and other feats of prowess. Studying the history and religions of the area for hours on end. Enduring those horrible lectures to build both moral fiber and knowledge. After years serving as a squire, to finally rise to the rank of paladin, and now to be called to server Lathander directly…. Such an honor….
“Young paladin, you will care for this infant until he can fend for himself.”
The dark elf Malisce, out of place among this group of heroes gathered on the hill in Elysium, snickered. Others couldn’t help but chuckle when she muttered “Adventures in Babysitting…….” Ademma was flabbergasted, how could his training and dedication lead to this. He took comfort when Orodreth, soothed him – “Don’t worry, we’ve all found ourselves on this path in a tumultuous fashion. It will make sense over time.”
Of course the baby in question had nearly never come into this realm. The child had the signs of Tanari’ri blood – half demon. He was the remnant of life energy born out of the ritual of harmony that had merged the deva Ybidel, with the bebilith Abaia. The ceremony had been fraught with peril. The group had confronted the enormous bebilith that stood poised to kill the weakened, feverish forms of Ybdiel and Abaia. But Orodreth saw through the test easily. “This is a test of peace…. Remember the rule of three… my friends…. Truth, destruction and peace.”
While Baeryc and Dexanis switched to defensive tactics, grabbing hold of the 15 foot tall spider, each by a leg. The powerful beast hammered them to the ground while Raggles tuned his music to soothe it. Orodreth summoned calming magic and the creature began to diminish in size. They knew they had the right solution to the problem. When the spilled water from lake serene on the foul arachnid, it exploded. Quickly they began the ritual,
The deva spark lie floating in mid-air, bound to the two fallen creatures by tendrils of celestial magic. Orodreth tried to fuse the gem of harmony and the spark but could not and it took the courage and the strength of Dexa to force the stone into place. What happened next, none of them would forget. The world literally erupted in vibrant rainbow colors – bursting in rhythmic harmony to the gem’s pulses. The ground resonated bass notes gentle tremors. It was beautiful beyond words. But Dexa had a few anyway…
“NOW WHAT DO I DO?” she screamed barely able to contain the magical energy.
You would think the answer would be simple. Give the deva his spark back. At that moment though, the nymphs, the custodians of the labyrinth of accord appeared to remind everyone of the dilemma. They could return the spark to the deva, but that would kill Abaia. And they could give Abaia the spark, after all the deva deserved to die for his ignorance anyway. They could split the spark, and leave two diminished individuals, but that seemed a loss all the way around. They could indeed return the spark to Lathander – and leave both the evil bebilith and the arrogant deva to die. Or, they could merge the two beings to form something greater than the sum of it’s parts.
Apparently, about one tiefling greater than the sum of it’s parts.
The resulting merging of Abaia and Ybdiel did indeed produce a wonderful and strange beast, both graceful and ferocious. He thanked the party but immediately left – his task of reporting the plans of the tanar’ri generals needed to be completed post-haste. The child was to be nurtured, at least initially by Dexa who immediately fulfilled her maternal instincts. It was a joyous thing to see her so free of the weight of her burdens – enjoying the beauty of life and creation. The child looked mostly normal, having only four digits on each hand and having the tell-tale bumps where his horns would grow in.
“Kill the child. Kill him now while you can. He is demon spawn, there is no future for him. I will do it, if you like. I am skilled in such matters.” Malisce stunned everyone with her flat suggestion to kill a newborn child. In the end, the group decided that they could not kill the child, that they had indeed just learned a lesson that any one can change. The boy was no more destined to a life of evil than Abaia was.
And so they accepted the burden of caring for the child. Dexanis, Ademma and the baby were an odd, unrelated, but happy “family”. They headed off to the portal back to Cassandra. Dexa stepped through with the child, followed one by one by the other heroes.
It was incomprehensible, but it happened. All arrived safely, except for the child and Dexanis. They waited patient, anxious moments, then panic set in. Less than an hour after being charged with the care of the child, it was gone. Ademma was crushed. The group posted Raggles to watch the portal, and fanned out to tend to their individual errands. Within hours, Dexa returned, or seemingly was dumped through the portal. Raggles found her twisted and tortured form. She was barely alive. He began screaming for help and soon the others came. A midwife administered aid until Odordreth arrived and flung every healing magic he could summon. “LIVE DAMNIT……”
And she did live, such as it were. They took her broken body back to the inn and she began a recuperation that would take days. She explained she had been tortured at the hands of the tanari’ri, not in the abyss but somewhere else just as foul. They had no reason to torture her, they had the child and that was all they wanted. When they tired of days of inflicting harm on her, they dragged her across the broken plain and dropped her unceremoniously through the portal. Her spirit was destroyed, she had lost her parents before, and the child she considered her son now. And she could do nothing to stop it.
After the third day of her recuperation, an unfamiliar knock on her door sent Orodreth cautiously to the door. The party’s list of enemies included a marilith, most of the vrock population of the abyss, a crazed 100 year old mage, the authorities of Rockingham, and on and on. So nobody opened the door without preparation. Peering carefully into the hall, Orodreth was greeted by a young man. He politely asked the young man, “What can I do for you….”
The youth stammered, “I’m uh, not exactly sure….. I think I need to be here, but I’m not sure why. “ Orodreth let the door swing open wide for Dexa to see. Their gaze instantly locked for more than just a casual moment. Dexa’s jaw dropped and words escaped her.
The young man pulled back his hood revealing his face, complete with burgeoning horns. Dropping to one knee, still staring intently at Dexa, he said the words everyone knew were coming.
“I am Adameth…. Your….. son, I think.”

[DM_Bolan]

“I choose Morvian,” Malisce stated flatly.

The day had been full of surprises, but none was greater than the engagement of Malisce to Morvian. That’s right – engagement.

Krendal’s Mart, aka K-Mart was a wonderous place. An enormous store located in Cassandra’s commons. They carried everything a bloke might need for adventuring from the mundane to the mythical. They also had good tailors. The group had reunited at Krendal’s to finalize their selection of clothing for the feast to be held at the temple of Loviatar. Each found a royal expression in the form of a stunning outfit – Baeryc in a gleaming suit of ceremonial armor and a smart looking cloak. Malisce in a a completely un-Malisce like violet gown revealing her to be truly stunning. The others similarly found garments truly royal in fashion. All in all, when the alterations were done, they would be a fine looking bunch.

The rest of the day was spent awaiting the completion of the alterations. It would not due to be dressed in fancy clothes, they would need to fit well to be truly appropriate for an audience of this magnitude. Some used the time to rest or meditate. . Thock, having already selected his outfit had run off to sneak into the wizards guild having a few hours to waste. He managed to sneak his way into a lecture on the finer points of spell craft….

When the time came at dusk to visit the temple to the maiden of pain, the enormity of the task, the danger of it began to set in. They were walking into the temple of an evil power, deliberately unarmed. Holy symbols were to be masked, respect to be shown to Loviatar. The heroes were greeted at the entrance by acolyte Xaxar. She introduced them to the temple, reminding them that without pain, there could be no joy, without death, what value life? The foyer was decorated in paintings depicting the “beneficial” application of pain…. A barbaric method of training warriors, deliberately wounding them to assure they would not falter in battle. In another scene a worshipper kneels on shards or rock while a priest heals him. Other paintings are even more provocative. The acolyte manages to convince the group that their path of light would not be meaningful were it not for those who lived in the pain of darkness.

The temple was magnificent, built of lavish white marble streaked in crimson and black. It was exquisitely furnished and well attended. Our nervous heroes were led to the feast hall. There, they were introduced to Procurate Indamin. The enormous feast hall was filled with priests and acolytes devoted to suffering at the hands of the maiden of pain or bringing pain to those seeking it, voluntarily or otherwise. The banquet had been prepared well, and everyone found a bounty to enjoy. Each of our heroes in turn was given a chance to tell how much pain they had suffered in their recent adventures. There had been a good deal of hero-mangling of late so the stories were vivid. Dexa of course kept the audience busy for a loooooonnnnggggg time.

It was Morvian though who would receive the honor of uttering a blessing for the meal. How fortuitous his prayer must have been…

It was after the feast, and good deal of music and entertainment that the real reason for the visit to the temple became apparent. Events had been set into motion in Faerun that had brought the maiden of pain smack dab into a tug-of-war between the overseer of the gods and his enraged foe, Empress Maligna. How our heroes would be involved was a matter that would require them to prove their commitment to Lovitar, and the ritual of pain was the method. To perform the ceremony, Indamin introduced the high priestess, Loviatar’s proxy, whip-mistress. To their surprise, she was a fair skinned elf. Dressed as she was it seemed out of character. But it appeared that the Loviatar appealed to a wide range of beings.

Each took his turn, choosing to receive either a measure of respect, or a measure of faith, or a measure of love. Those of goodly manner chose a measure of respect, and received three lashes from a whip of long feathers. A symbolic gesture, meant to honor the host of the temple, without incurring the displeasure of their own deity. Those who were of braver spirit chose a measure of faith, and received lashes from the whip mistress using a burlap whip, which stung painfully but caused no real harm. For those that chose the measure of love, it was three lashes with the barbed leather whip – the recipients were left bleeding. Baeryc opted to suffer all three. Of course, the damage was healed, the priests of Loviatar were not unsympathetic.

It was Malisce who went last. She requested the method of the ancients, a more grueling test of pain and endurance, reserved for royalty or the divine. As it turns out, she had a legitimate right to make such a request. It seems that Mistress Malisce, 2nd daughter of House D’Corboral, had become Matron Queen Malisce due to the events unfolding in her realm. The army of a thousand wizards had not been assembled, but they practiced their craft to gruesome effectiveness. Indamin’s information suggested that a permanent portal to one of the lower planes was created through the use of the ancient magic. The expending of such power devastated the region around Millinbrook. The cities of the drow were not spared – thousands had been killed and the landscape had become a tortured wasteland of death. That destruction had left Malisce’s kingdom in shambles, her house through losses had become the highest ranking house. Malisce remained the highest ranking survivor.

The followers or Loviatar believed that to expose oneself to pain and humiliation was to prove your honesty. The method of the ancients followed this practice. Malisce shed her clothing and was secured to the whipping post as the others had, but the whip mistress employed a different torture. Royalty was spared the whip, instead they suffered the shocking effect of a powerful wand. By the third set of shocks, Malisce had torn through the bonds and lie convulsing on the ground, blood leaking from her eyes, ears and nose. It was all our heroes could do to hold back Orodreth who suffered the anguish as if he himself were being struck.

The whip mistress seemed pleased…. “If she lives…. She has passed the test of the ancients.”

And she did live. Barely. Well enough to accept her titles as Matron Queen of Dral Invictus. By custom, the drow queen cannot be unaccompanied. And with that, Malisce chose her husband – Morvian. He was a follower of Shar, he was a wizard, his presence would be unifying with the surface dwellers during this time of crises.

“We shall be wed tomorrow!”

[DM_Bolan]

“I do.”

Morvian stammered slightly as the words echoed in the great hall of the temple.

The bride was dressed in a flowing violent gown, bejeweled as fit for her station. The priests and acolytes, friends and fellow adventurers applauded lightly wishing the new couple well. It was such a scene of joyous union.

Well… except for the fact that it was the temple of Loviatar.

And the bride was a drow queen.

And the marriage was being sanctioned by two priests…. One of Loviatar….. and one of Lathander.

And the inn, where the bride, groom and their companions were staying had been destroyed by red dragons?

This of course had all started when Malisce had chosen Morvian as her husband. She had to have a mate to rightfully claim her throne – matron queen. Her ascension from second daughter of the fourth house, D’Corboral had been swift. An alliance was forming among the faiths – those choosing to uphold the authority of Lord Ao over the gods of Faerun and those choosing to follow the usurper, Empress Maligna, a being so heinous she brings fear to the hearts of Tanar’ri and Aasimon alike. The war of a thousand wizards was coming. They were being gathered, and trained. And one day, they would wreak their havoc upon Faerun. They would invoke the Empress’ ancient magic and form a thousand portals to a thousand evil places. Places where even now, armies of hideous creatures trained, and waited, for centuries, for millennia for that day Maligna would call forth the portals. Then, the dark hordes would pour forth and crush all those who call planet Toril their home. The first demonstration of this great power shattered the Unther region, both above ground and below ground. The portal to Faerun lie under hundreds of feet of rock. Mage Lord Colderan had been a very busy, and very naughty wizard. From all reports, he had fled Cassandra to return to Faerun through the portal in the Drow kingdom. There the magic was unleashed.

The magic is so powerful, it consumed everything. Nothing remains for many days ride in all directions. The land becomes a charred wasteland, stripped of the grass, the trees, the roads, the buildings, everything. The blackened ground is shards of cinder dangerous to even walk upon. Huge stone teeth, some hundreds of feet high, jut from the land at inexplicable angles. Scattered about are smaller formations composed of spear-like fragments fused together by heat resembling giant caltrops. Even the sun shines a sliver of obsidian.

And so the group would set out for Dral Invictus, the city from which Malisce would rule, but not before Morvian and Malisce retired to consummate the marriage. Messages would be sent to Dral Invictus telling of the new queen’s arrival, but there was no way of knowing if they were received. The priests of Loviatar, seeking to aid the alliance against Maligna arranged a plane shift, allowing the party to quickly return to their home plane of existence.

What they found when they arrived sent chills up their spine. Literally. It was cold. Damn cold. The wind whipped so hard it was often difficult to walk over the broken rocky terrain. The traveling was treacherous, the wind was biting cold, and the sun was fading on the horizon. The group quickly ascertained they were within a days walk of the Smoking Mountains. The tops of the blackened peaks were shrouded in gray dust. There perhaps, they would be able to find their way to the Underdark. And that would likely lead them to Colderan. At this point, that @#%@#$@ needs to die was the unanimous decision.

There were little more than sticks and twigs left, and charred remnants at that. After hours of travel, the group decided that the wind was too much and they decided to seek shelter. The best they could do was a rock formation that protected them from the wind and provided a slight overhang that would protect them from the rain. A few times, they spotted two flying creatures – great square-winged beasts. They flew slowly and at great height. It did not appear they were aware of the party, but it meant they slept with no fire, lest they draw the attention.

Tomorrow, they would reach the foothills of the Smoking Mountains. Perhaps from the peaks they would be able to see how far and wide the destruction spread. Perhaps they would locate an entrance to the Underdark. Perhaps they would find survivors of the calamity.

Or perhaps tomorrow, any one of the great evil beings that held enmity towards our heroes would drop in out of the sky, literally or figuratively, intent upon shattering their fragile little lives.

[DM_Bolan]

“His highness politely declines,” stated the unkempt guard at the makeshift gate.

Orodreth turned back towards the group some fifty yards out. He waved and signaled one, as if to say, “one more moment”. The rest of the heroes stood patiently, trying not to alarm dozens of archers perched on the slabs and shards of blackened stone that formed a crude outer wall. Stone slab huts made up the bulk of the makeshift encampment. The steep foothills were spotted with numerous caves serving as additional housing. Women and children in tattered clothing hustled into the caves as the general alarm sounded.

“Look, tell Lord Randall, that it is I Orodreth, faithful priest of Rill,, Lathander. We come with grave news! We must see him immediately!”

“No, no, he was very specific, something about bringing back his hundred year old evil mage-lord great-great-grandfather, then bringing a groundquake that buried Millenbrook, and to top it off, apparently you are responsible in some way for the massive devastation that scars our land? Off you go now, have a good day. Careful in the wasteland, very dangerous….”

Orodreth turned again to the party in the distance, once again signally them to be patient. Patient they were. They patiently prepared spells and range weapons and assessed just how many of those crudely armed archers could hit them. Thock silently shifted closer to the front gate of the crude village. If a fight were to break out, he would be in a prime location to inflict maximum grief….

“Sir, sir, you misunderdand… WE did not bring back Colderan Morn, he was brought back by an evil priestess…. And it was Colderan who caused the earthquake…. Well I mean we did help him kill the Zhentarim usurper….. but seriously we mean you no harm whatsoever, could a priest of Lathander lie in such a fashion….?” Orodreth, sweating profusely poured on the humility and charm.

“OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!! I’m hit, I’m hit, kobold down, kobold down……” shouted Thock from somewhere in the dimly lit scrub. “THEY SHOT ME IN THE BUTT! THEY SHOT ME IN THE BUTT WITH AN ARROW!!!!!”

It was with a great deal of diplomacy, a small amount of embellishment, and a whole lot of adventurer bravado, but Orodreth convinced them to open the gate. And the wet, cold, tired, hungry heroes entered what now, the reformed city of Millenbrook, under the rule of Lord Randall Morn. They were offered a stone hut to spend the night. Eventually, they would meet with the peasant king and discuss the current situation. It had been a long trip.

Adventuring is often exciting, frequently dangerous and sometimes financially rewarding. And then there are times spent traveling great distances across particularly miserable terrain. Our heroes had made their way across the wasteland that had replaced the rolling meadows, virulent forests and majestic hills of Faerûn. Instead, nothing but charred death permeated the horizon. The broken shards of burnt stone jutted at all angles out of the ground. Huge spears of solid rock poked from the landscape as if a god had hurled handfuls of javelins at the land. It was frightfully cold and the rain and wind made everything slick with ice, especially the razor sharp crunch cinders underfoot.

All the while they had been tracked by an arrowhawk, a creature of the plane of air. An intelligent predator, it used a cunning ploy to get the party to lower it’s guard. When it’s true nature was revealed, they of course dispatched it quickly.

The only major feature they had encounted besides the endless vast of treacherous footing was a river. The calamity that had befell this realm had fouled the waters as well. What once must have been a pastoral stream flowing across the fertile plain was nothing but a slowly flowing black sludge. Our heroes had little choice but to cross it to continue their progress towards the Smoking mountains. Having learned their lesson frequently on the hazards of crossing water, they carefully proceeded. Morvian flew those across that he could and Baeryc was brought across with a series of ropes and a safety line.

Another half-day of travel after breaking another rain-soaked, wind-laced camp brought them to the pathetic “city” of Millenbrook. No longer was it a proud mercantile destination for traders or a bastion of learning the ways of the arcane. Now it was little more than a few dozen stone huts and dirty caves. Lord Randall’s army was old men and young boys, with few true soldiers. But they were the survivors. The forces of Empress Maligna were had brought the calamity. Her battle against Lord Ao, and those who abided by his rule had begun. The first assault left a blight upon the land so severe it would never recover. The people, the animals, the plants, everything disintegrated for miles and miles and miles. Those few that had miraculously survived clung to life in this collection of hovels and holes.

Eventually, Lord Randall did agree to see them. They learned there had been no peace since the calamity, day to day life was barely possible. Food was scarce, water even more so. There had been two attacks by dark elves within the last week. The evidence Randall had suggested House Chumvah. The dark elves had left the surface dwellers alone for the most part for hundreds of years. The simple cultures of the humans offered nothing of value to the drow. But the dark elves of house Chumvah were now driven by a greater task, pleasing Kiaransalee and her mistress Maligna.

And so our heroes, as darkness fell upon them in the safety of the city, contemplated a journey to deal the drow of House Chumvah a blow. And perhaps, they would find the entrance to Underdark that would lead Queen Malisce home to Dral Invictus.

[DM_Bolan]

Session 26 & 27 Recap

“You don’t believe they will triumph do you?” The youthful raspy female voice made no judgment on her listener.
An old wizened voice answered, “The outcome of this predicament is surely unknown if that’s what you mean.”
The two figures were standing side by side, enshrouded by the heavens. Their ghostly forms were looking down upon the world intrigued by the progress of a certain band of heroes. The young company of adventurers featured everything from a sorcerer kobold tainted by dragon blood to a drow queen to the son of a demon spawn. Perhaps Lathandar had good reason to be concerned.
“It is odd, strange company this plight brings. Who would have thought the Maiden of Pain would find solace with the Morning Lord?” Loviatar took a small amount of glee in the irony.
“Look, they descend into the Underdark…..”
= = =
The trip from “New Millenbrook” had led our heroes across the twisted wasteland in search of an entrance to the Underdark. There, they hoped to put an end to the drow raiding parties as well as find a way to reach the drow capital of Dral Invictus. Ultimately, with the power of the drow empire at their disposal, they hoped they could track down Colderan the arch-mage. And perhaps all of that would somehow prevent Empress Maligna’s grand plan to marshal an army of a thousand wizards. Wizards, who given the chance, would unleash ancient magic so devastating it would likely ruin the face of Faerun and open permanent portals. It would be the end of days, allowing malevolent denizens to ravage the land unfettered.
That is, if our heroes can make it overland in one piece.
Day after day of travel across the treacherous landscape left them exhausted. Each day brought the wind-whipped black rain that felt more like mud-slush than water. The slick ground composed of layers of shifting blackened shale would give way and send a body tumbling over the razor sharp rocks.
When night would come, they would find a rock overhang, or an outcropping to make a meager camp. Most nights, not even a fire was allowed for fear of drawing the denizens of the wasteland to feed.
They had to negotiate streams of ashen sludge, carefully avoiding a repeat of previous river crossing issues. They used the lad Egan from Millenbrook to spy the signs of the drow. It was difficult, the ground did not lend itself to tracking and the weather made it impossible. There were many missteps. Painstakingly they followed as best they could, traveling over, around and sometimes through the hazards that the calamity had wrought.
About a day after dispatching a large avian predator, they approached an enormous rift in the land. Make no mistake, the cataclysm had scarred the land through and through, but this was more than just damage. This was a wound to the land. It spanned a mile across in places, and stretched in both directions a few miles. It disappeared into the murky darkness, the crumbling cliff faces inviting disaster.
How could the gods of Toril allow this? How could such a force be allowed to rend the earth like a great claw? Like a jagged cut that refuses to close. The soul of the world was callously and violently laid open in some brutal celestial rage.
While navigating around the rift, Thock spotted a family of refugees trudging across the wastes. After some initial trepidation, and nearly fatal misunderstanding, they approached and shared what information they could about the drow.
Like others in the region, their town was flattened by the cataclysm. All sources of water and food were decimated, leaving the inhabitants to wander as a group. The hazards of life in the wastes chewed away at their numbers, and then the drow came and finished the job. Through luck, Rolf and his family had been away from the camp when the drow raid occurred. They fled aimlessly across the plain.
With a storm coming, the group found shelter in a cave at the edge of the rift. It was one of the nicer shelters they had enjoyed. The rain came down in sheets, punctuated by the exaggerated echoes of thunder in the rift. With a guard watch set, the party settled in for the night. It was during second watch that Egan, the boy from Millenbrook woke Dexa to inform her that Rolf had gone off to investigate a signal light some time ago but had not returned.
Rightfully sensing danger, the group braved the storm, prepared for conflict. The glowing green light that Rolf had followed was apparently a signal requesting aid. Eventually, the source of the light was proven to be a will-o-wisp. The spongy creature of energy maliciously led Rolf and the party into quicksand. Had it not been for Morvian’s quick thinking (and darn good luck) the wisp might have enjoyed consuming each of our heroes one by one.
The group agreed at day break that Egan should lead Rolf and his family back to New Millenbrook. At least there, they would have a chance to live among a community, such as it is. Egan and the others headed north while our heroes headed southeast towards the home of the drow.
The next day brought a series of difficult obstacles. The group painstakingly searched, assuring they were still following the drow tracks. Signs of a large body of armed troops were everywhere – almost too many to follow. Ultimately, the tracks ended at another rift in the ground. This one, much smaller, had a rope staked at the top to allow a person to descend. There, at the bottom, stood several buildings, and a stone entrance to the mountain.
The descent proved brutal. Dexa and Morvian were seriously hurt and it was found that the rope was rigged to fail. Cleverly, Thock observed a rope ladder concealed from view. The trapped rope was meant to lure the unwary while the drow used the sturdier ladder.
The first building housed several sarcophagi. They showed signs of being ransacked already. In fact the building seemed to have been used as a waystation for travelers before. The second building proved far more interesting.
It had been sealed unlike the first building. The party would do what they could to get in, finally breaking the seals to find an undisturbed tomb. They left it well enough alone, fearing that it was the lair of a vampire. It was, but the undead monstrosity didn’t attack until after midnight. A pitched battle ensued, but it ended quite suddenly. The party had vanquished the vampire Chahir.
After resting for the rest of the night, our heroes breached the mountain entrance to find five dead drow elves.
At the sight of five of her own realm slaughtered, Malisce swore an epithet against House Chumvah. With her shortsword drawn, she lead the way deeper into the mountain crypt.

[DM_Bolan]

“What you suggest would be TREASON!” shouted matron Liolanthalese. The venerable drow woman had a portly visage, but it in no way diminished the respect she commanded. Here in the halls of council, the elders of Dral Invictus argued passionately over what course of action, the drow empire should take.

The council had gathered and first to speak was House Ezzelhoun representing the mercantile elements of the domain of the drow. “This so-called queen is an accused murderer, and has fled her own realm. House Ezzelhoun calls for Nax C'narza, the right to select a rightful new ruler! Let a new matron queen be selected!”

“The Queen will arrive soon, there is no reason we should rush our action. What we need to do is make preparations for the things we know will be obviously needed when Matron Queen Malisce arrives. For instance, regardless of whether we attack the remaining surface dwellers, or negotiate with them, we will need scout teams to lead the way, we should have those prepared.” This came from the only male among the six, a lanky dark elf with angular facial features and narrow eyes. “The threat of the thousand wizards, I believe is now diminished…. They will not be able, or willing to mount another calamity again for some time.”

Again House Ezzelhoun sounded the call for Nax C'narza. “While we sit idly by, our coffers empty of wealth. This calamity is bleeding the empire dry. Without trade routes and no willing trade partners, you must think in terms of resolving our economic concerns. We cannot sit idly by while opportunities slip away!”

Mir ‘Elena, a young drow woman with fire in her eyes and poison in her voice stood and demanded the council’s attention. “It is not YOU who have lost your path to Lolth. It is not you who have wounds among your people that cannot be healed. You do not have to endure the pathetic anguish of those among us who have lost faith. They bicker, they suffer and sooner or later they will tolerate it no longer. The time to act is now. MY PEOPLE SUFFER.”

“Mir ‘Elena, calm down….” cooed cool young male voice presiding over the debate.

“I will not calm down. There has been a vision, and now is the time to act. Times are changing. The army of a thousand wizards has wrought great calamity. This is the time to make our own changes. Too long have we allowed the surface dwellers to multiply and prosper and become the target of this calamity. Pool our resources together, a unified force, and travel to the surface, and exterminate all who stand before us. Whether you choose a new queen, or not she should rule from the bottom of Dral Invictus to the top of the Smoking Mountains!”

For a long time, thunderous applause drowned out any attempt to quell the thousands who watched the proceedings from the arena. The next speaker could only proceed when the roar had subsided of it’s own. Liolanthalese, representing the Auzkovyn Clans spoke next,

“Mir 'Elena is right about one thing. We need to work as one if we are to face this threat. However, as any true general would know, it is not wise to pick a fight on multiple fronts. We are in turmoil, our people are splintered and fragmented. This is not the time for rash actions. We need to consolidate our empire, and to do this, we must find our queen. A new queen is not the answer, a new queen will fracture the houses even more.”

She continued in earnest “We need to find our queen, and allow her the chance to speak for her actions, and base our decision on that, so that we can make this critical decision united as a people. We need to face the surface dwellers, yes! But not to destroy them. We need to lead them, we need to unite Faerun UNDER US! We need to lead the way, show the world we are the chosen people!”

And those that had been silent during the last ovation suddenly found their voice in strong applause in support of the Auzkovyn. Though they are not part of Dral Invictus proper, the nomadic (and even surface dwelling) Auzkovyn swore fealty to the queen.

House Xandovaul was called upon next representing the houses of scholars, scribes and sages. It was Mistress Xarin’va who stunned and silenced the arena.

“These are all fine words you have heard. Words of courage.... optimism, bravery..... But you are all fools. You are fools to believe that we can affect this. We have seen the power of the army of a thousand wizards. It has devastated the land far and wide. Left thousands dead. What if they do that again? Do you think it coincidence that Lolth does not answer your prayers?"

It is Xarin’va whos suggests the unthinkable – disavowing the queen entirely, and joining the grand empire. The grand drow empire much larger than Dral Invictus. And they are far less tolerant of other races and cultures. It has been 200 years since Dral Invictus split from Dral Castigax. Cast out as liberals and weak, the houses of Dral Invictus sought no plunder from the surface dwellers.

Represented by Allevrah, It was Malisce’s own house, D’Corboral that made an impassioned plea on her behalf. “Honorable Kindred. I have heard your pleas and believe you make strong points. I speak on behalf of the queen as she herself cannot be here today. Our scouts and diviners however say she is making fast progress, as such I feel it would be foolish not to wait for her. But immediate action is required and House D'Corboral will lead the way!”

“We gain nothing stealing from the destitute refuges above ground. They serve as fodder should the wizards return. It is the followers of Kiaransalee who wrought this peril, it is the army of wizards who choose to destroy all the world. They have opened portals to horrible places and even now who knows what could be coming for us? Preparations for defense should be made while the queen is en route to us to claim her rightful place!”

And as some five thousand drow citizens shouted, chanted and argued, pandemonium ensued. Calling for order, and for a vote, there was no clear direction.

The crypts had yielded nothing but trouble so far. The kobold, Thock had gotten himself in trouble at every turn. It was all Orodreth could do to keep the little bugger out of every sarcophagi they passed. The entrance to the crypts revealed several dead drow of House Morcane – loyal to Dral Invictus. It was unclear who had killed them but it was by martial weapon.

Despite being well seasoned adventurers, our heroes demonstrated a decided lack of common sense. Bursting into a tomb, they were set upon by celestial dire lions. That not being enough to satisfy, they busted into a sealed tomb and found far more than they bargained for.

The tomb contained a statue. Thock, being of sound body but not mind, couldn’t leave the statue well enough alone. It finally came to life and assaulted him, well, vigorously. But a dark force even more powerful was yet lurking, and the ghost of Lady Quallem unleashed a flurry of attacks from beyond.

The group suffered grievous wounds, and were unable to kill the ghost. But they did manage to drive her away. Wisely, they left the connected crypts alone, seeking to focus on finding the source of the dark elf raids, plaguing the refugees. Several of the group had been driven away by fear emanating from Lady Quallem, and they stumbled upon a stairway leading down, deeper into the mountain side.

Here there were the graves of commoners, stacked in groups of niches carved from the cavern walls. Dexanis once again intrigued by the graves foolhardily investigated without proper precautions, releasing clouds of toxic mold spores. The effect was nearly enough to kill her. The battles had left our heroes depleted and exhausted.

Retracing their steps, they holed up in the empty chambers they had passed on the way in. A frightful rest was had until voices and footsteps in the halls beyond snapped the sentries to attention. Carefully spying through an door, they learned it was more drow moving about in the hallway. As it turns out, they were clearing the bodies of House Morcane.

Concluding their rest, they pressed deeper into the lower level of the crypts. They negotiated their way past a guardian roper, who fortunately took the word of Malisce they had permission to be there. And that’s when they found the invisible passageway….

[DM_Bolan]

Sorry for the delay in getting this posted :)

Session 30/31/32 Recap

The twin blades simultaneously pierced clean through the dark elf’s thorax, the gleaming points protruding. With glee, the assailant withdrew the blades, smiled to himself thinking “What a fine job I’ve done….”

Then Haldrin looked up from the Drow corpse, and into the angry gaze of the matron queen of the Drow Empire. Looking up meekly, all the rogue could stammer was “uh, sorry?”

“Sorry indeed…..” the queen hissed. Flanked on either side by Dexanis and Orodreth, Malisce began the interrogation. “Who are you…. How did you come to this place… and what business do you have taking the life of a drow?”

Haldrin looked around the dark cavern. He was surrounded by well armed, and apparently angry adventurers. “Uh, my name is Haldrin, I um, only sought to prove my worth to you… I’ve traveled long across the ruined landscape of my home… say…. Um, is that food? It’s been a fair time since I’ve had a bit to eat…..”

Adameth was none too pleased to see another tiefling. It was awfully convenient that this one had popped up in the Dodrien Crypts, seemingly out of nowhere. The “scout” had an answer for everything….

He had come to track the party while crossing the vast wasteland. All landmarks destroyed, he wandered aimlessly for a few weeks. Then, found the track of drow patrols. Eventually, they led to the Dodrien crypts. Joining up with the drow wasn’t appealing, but running from the predators of the wasteland could only work so long.

But as fate would have it, the tracks of the drow were not the only ones – tracking Dexa was quite easy. One merely followed the trail of bodies.

There had been a party of dead drow near the entrance the crypts, but they fell at the hands of the followers of Kiaransalee. Drow killing drow… what was the world coming to? The path of destruction stopped next at a curious room of tombs. Magical wards had surprised our heroes, summoning dire lions to defend the tombs. While Dexa and the others valiantly battled, Haldrin had been wise enough, being by himself, to just shut the door and move on.

“Oh, then you saw the broken statue?” Dexa began…. “I like statues, especially big ones with fancy carvings, that makes it spooky…. But it was already spooky because of the ghost. OH you didn’t see the ghost…? It was the ghost of Lady Quallem…. I don’t know why they call her lady, she wasn’t very nice to us. She touched us and it made us all cold and weak, and some of us ran away and hid like little girls….. did I mention when I was a little girl, there was an evil sorcerer….”

Haldrin looked up in disbelief and Dexa droned on and on before she was gently reminded that silence spells were readily available. She finally concluded her story explaining how the group had smashed the statue, and driven off the ghost. When they finally found Thock and Orodreth, they had run deeper into the crypts, down a stairway and into the caverns where the common folk were interred in open graves.

Haldrin snickered, the graves hadn’t bothered him, he’d left them well enough alone once he discovered they were covered in deadly yellow mold. “Oh yes,” Morvian quipped, “Dexa quickly detected that mold for us….”

“How did you get past the roper? It had been trained to allow Drow to pass?” The group was interested in Haldrin’s skill – he sheepishly admitted he had waited until the roper was moving about looking for food and then made his way beyond. Somehow, he had missed the illusory walls leading to the banished drow party.

Not realizing that some survivors of house Morcane were holed up – the party investigated the illusory walls, only to find denizens of the underdark protecting the way. First, it was the driders, those tortured, insane half-spider creatures the drow bred. They put up a stout fight before falling. Next came the araneas – ghastly spiders capable of devouring the party. And then the surprise, drow guards loyal to the queen. The last of house Morcane, the only survivors.

House Morcane had been crushed by usurpers of House Chum-Vah. Led by Dorina T’Sarran, followers of the upstart deity Kiaransalee have killed, captured, or converted all of the members of House Morcane. Now she holds Szith Morcane and launches raids against the already devastated surface-dwellers. The four members of house Morcane were sent to the surface to aid Lord Randall and his refugee subjects. After resting, our heroes pressed onward, deeper into the crypts.

They dispatched a clever doppelganger, who had been feasting on whatever solitary beings it could find. Moving south, they met their first resistance from the members of House Chum-Vah.

The battle with two drow and a wraith spider was punctuated by the arrival of Haldrin. He was met with some skepticism, having snuck by the party and into the fray without their knowledge. But there was no question he was skilled. They dispatched the guards and began a descent to the lowest levels of the crypts.

When they reached the end of the tunnel, they found another hole leading down – but curiously, also found a smooth, magically formed stone wall. Muted voices from behind the wall ultimately led Dexanis to smash through the wall. When nothing was found beyond the rubble, they moved further to investigate.

They were accosted by two driders and Dexa immediately charged into battle – only to learn too late of a concealed pit! More illusory magic! The fall and the spikes nearly killed her outright while the driders reveled in the tactical victory – the strongest foe now lie bleeding sixty feet down in a pit. They held their ground peppering the group with spells and our heroes nearly fell in battle!

With the driders dispatched, Dexa returned to the surface, the party was about to rest and recuperate again when Thock’s observant nature notice Haldrin had an unusual jingly bulge…. He had found some loot and was holding out!

While the group argued what to do about it, they were set upon by gigantic spiders. Worn out, wounded, out of spells, they now face the toughest of their foes yet.

[DM_Bolan]

Dexa screamed, “Oh my god, he’s dead!”

Haldrin’s motionless, bloody form lie in a heap at the bottom of the rough hewn shaft that lead from the crypt level into Szith Morcane proper. His chest revealing a gaping V-shaped gash, blood pouring forth. A glaive-wielding drow sentry had just withdrawn his weapon and was preparing for another strike Beside him, the skinless muscled caustic cleric of Kiaransalee, a Quth-Maren locked his gaze upon Dexanis. An overwhelming wave of fear crushed her to her knees, she lie. screaming from her prone position, She was watching the life drain from Haldrin and could do nothing about it.

The situation was grim, the first ones down the shaft had already been incapacitated. The drow sentries of Szith Morcane, now under the control of followers of Kiaransalee, were well trained, well prepared, and aware our heroes were about to breach the outer defenses of the outpost. It was as if there had been some warning about their arrival.

Indeed, the combat had been fierce since they had entered the Dodrien Crypts. They had finally reached the entrance to the underdark only to find, among other things, driders, spiders, and drow barring the way. Each fight took it’s toll on our heroes. Just as they thought rest would coming, two hungry huge spiders made one last foray against them. After Dexa dispatched the arachnids, they were able to secure the area and heal. Exhausted, they slept warily.

They should have seen the tell-tale sign – bits of webbing that appeared on the floor overnight. Someone had been there… for what purpose? Events after a breakfast of rations had everyone distracted. Malisce and Morvian had been studying something magical in nature and abruptly announced that they needed to “test” something. Warning everyone else to stay back, they vanished down the hall and within moments there erupted a tremendous explosion. The force knocked those standing to their knees while the blue-white flash nearly blinded them. When the thunderous roar had subsided, there was no answer from the married wizards.

Gingerly, the group crept closer. Malisce and Morvian lie motionless, encased in a sort of blue energy. Dexa shouted “oh my god, they are dead!.”

Spellcraft revealed the energy to be a form of mage armor. Attempts to penetrate the energy were painfully rebuffed. For several minutes, it was feared the wizards had prematurely expired. Dexanis hypothesized their deaths were the result of mating rituals gone horribly awry. Morvian awoke first, stunned and confused. Malisce awoke several minutes later, equally dazed. Dexanis was not about to let the incident go without explanation. She demanded answers.

It seems, that while in the temple of Loviatar in Cassandra, Malisce had been given several scrolls. These scrolls were bits of ancient, other-worldy magic. The variety used by the army of a thousand wizards. The sort of power used to decimate the landscape for hundreds of miles. It was the sort of power, that Kiaransalee, and her overlord, Empress Maligna, hoped to unleash on Faerun.

The scroll required wizards who had this other-worldy power. Some born in Faerun had it innately, others from other realms had it as well. It was fate that brought the Matron Queen of the Drow together with the powerful mage from Rockingham. It was Malisce’s visit to the Temple of Loviatar, and the ritual of pain that she and other had endured, that brought trust from the followers of Loviatar. And that trust, had brought them the scrolls of power.

One of those scrolls had just been tested…. And remarkably, Malisce and Morvian appeared to have survived.

The blue fire coursed around their body. Dexa took a sword to Morvian but couldn’t harm him. They seemed virtually invulnerable. They packed up their gear and cleared the rest of the caves – finding them empty of additional monsters. Then they turned their attention to the hole leading down into Szith Morcane.

The outpost of house Morcane was in reality now controlled by the upstart House Chum-Vah. They had seemingly broken from the empire, and sanity, and were sowing the seeds of civil war among the houses. They were also raiding the survivors of the calamity living on the surface. And right now, they were carving up heroes pretty nicely.

Malisce led the next group down the hole. Skilled at climbing, and bristling with magical energy, she landed softly. Unfortunately, that sinking feeling she experienced while descending was her ancient lore mage armor being cancelled by the drow defenses. At that precise moment, a drow senty with a glaive reminded her that event a queen bleeds.

The battle was lost. At least until Morvian, dove down the hole and invoked powerful enchantments, leaving the drow confused and attacking each other. It was Orodreth’s quick thinking and unwavering devotion to Lathandar that allowed him to save Haldrin. Invoking the power of his god, he miraculously closed Haldrin’s ghastly wounds.

Haldrin stood up triumphantly, whirled and plunged his sword into the drow officer before him.

There are certain decisions, that you realize are wrong the moment you make them. Haldrin had just such a moment. The action slowed in his mind, every heartbeat frozen in time. He executed the maneuver just as he practiced a thousand times. And his blades were sharp, his aim was true. The fire of victory coursed through his veins as he plunged his weapons home.

And then he realized, that drow warrioress was now really, really angry at him. Within that frozen heartbeat following his own attacks, he saw the double bladed sword whirl, in fact heard it whistle through the air before impaling him. There was a disgusting cracking noise as the drow thrust the blade home, twisted and withdrew it so swiftly Haldrin stood on his feet for a moment before he crashed to the floor.

“Oh my god he’s dead” shouted Dexa.

Orodreth flashed back sternly “WOULD YOU STOP SAYING THAT!”

And indeed, as vicious as the wounds were, the power of Lathander came to his aid one more time, leaving Orodreth gasping for air, overwhelmed by the outpouring of faith. It had consumed him. Haldrin yet lived.

With confusion affecting the drow they began attacking each othere. Baeryc and Dexa finally got their swords engaged to the fight and the battle was turned. Eventually, they finished off the drow warrioress. She shouted a warning to unseen allies as she expired.

Exploring the cave, our heroes came face to face with an obstacle they had never expected. They found themselves standing at the edge of an enormous chasm – the only method of transport to climb down the spun webs of a really, really big spider. A thousand feet below, the sound of water rushing echoed through the chasm.

Haldrin stammered…. “There is something wrong with my eyes…”

[DM_Bolan]

Sesssion 34 Recap (1)

“You, the one called Baeryc, you are under arrest!”

With those simple words, the manacles clicked shut and Baeryc found himself helpless. All around him the signs of battle were clear. The bounty hunters of Rockingham couldn’t have picked a better time to execute their plan.

“Nobody moves, or he dies, right here, right now!” The leader called out. He called himself Dale Rucker, but who knows what truth he or his companions, Amras and Tabris, have actually told. Tabris claimed to be a monk of good intentions, but anyone can put on a robe and pretend to meditate. And Amras, another shady character, claiming to be a “scout”. Well, all three looked disreputable from the moment they arrived.

At the time, it seemed innocuous enough. They claimed they were refugees of the ruined forests of the land. They had followed signs of other refugees to New Millenbrook. There, Lord Randall Morn himself was said to have informed them of our heroes. Indeed, he steered the newcomers to the wasteland where the drow were launching their raids.

The trip overland was difficult but the skilled trackers picked up the party’s trail meeting up with a drow patrol. Surprisingly, the dark elves of House Morcane were not aggressive, indeed, they were under orders from the queen. They were on their way to New Millinbrook in order to provide assistance against the next presumed attack by House Chum-Vah.

The charred landscape, now referred to as the black ash plain was a sight almost unbearable for the rangers. Huge shards of stone, hundreds of feet long, pierced the blackened landscape like spears thrown from the heavens. A thick layer of razor sharp crunchy ash covered the scorched surface of the land. Black bogs of quickmud lie beneath the thin layers of soot. The travel was grueling, the muddy raindrop pelting them for hours on end. It was with great relief they found where the fugitives had gone.

The crypts of Dodrien were cleared of foul beasts, and efficiently by all indications. The bounty hunters began to suspect their quarry had risen to significant power. Still, no plan was cast in action that could not be withdrawn, they pressed on finally reaching a vertical shaft leading even deeper into the underdark. There, they heard the sounds of battle, the heroes of Cassandra, the fugitives of Rockingham were engaging dark elves in lethal combat.

When the battle had subsided, they made their introductions to the group. They put into motion the grand scheme – infiltrate the group, and await a chance to isolate one or two of the fugitives. Knowing how intensely loyal they would be to each other, there was no doubt the others would come. With the first fugitive serving as a temporary hostage, the others would have no choice but to capitulate. They would have to return to Rockingham.

After some initial mistrust, they were eventually welcomed into the group. Immediately, they set off to probe deeper into the outpost of Szith Morcane. The entry chamber had been well defended. Traps, followed by a physical barrier – the shaft, which itself had magic cancelling effects. Once at the bottom, one of the hideous undead, the Quth-Maren, followed by drow sentries and a drow officer defended the guard post to the death – calling out the alarm to their comrades.

They faced a difficult physical endeavor – the chasm was covered with a web of huge this strands. They were as thick as a man’s leg and stretched into the darkness vertically. It was obvious, the drow ascended and descended using these webs – but to where? It was Baeryc that took the lead trying, climbing down the webs. Even as he did, the party spotted a gargantuan spider. They tried various methods to provoke the beast. Amras, always prone to think the best of animals diligently tried to coax the spider to a friendly disposition, to most humorous results, but it wouldn’t move until someone got on the webs. That someone was Baeryc.

The fight that ensued was brief and savage. The spider was drawn to Morvian who had taken flight in the cave. At one point, Morvian was anchored at the end of the spiders web as it tried to pull him in. Only Thocks blast with a wand gave Morvian a chance to escape. The new found allies discovered they had a potent range assault capability. Each of them was highly skilled with a bow, and the loosed wave after deadly wave of arrows against the spider.

Alas, it was Thock who drew the ire of the spider when Morvian broke away. With a horrible ::CRUNCH:: Thock was impaled upon the proboscis of the enormous arachnid. His small body was waved about like a rag doll before being thrown to the ground in a bloody crumpled heap. He lie motionless as the last wave of arrows fell the spider. The party scrambled to pull Baeryc, entangled in the webs, back to the safety of the ledge.

It was then Morvian observed another cave entrance farther down the web. It was a good thing too… no one looked forward to climbing, or falling, the thousand feet to the water below. With jagged walls to assure death, any visible way out of this web was welcome. Then he continued his investigation flying further south. He was out of ear shot when the next fracas broke out.

Indeed, the situation was grim. Orodreth begged the group to rest, being depleted of spells. Thock was unable to move, stricken by the spiders poison. Dexa was strangely quiet, seemingly stunned by the enormity of the spider, Everyone was hurt, (except for the newcomes) and Morvian was off … somewhere….

What better time to seize the moment. And they did. Taking Baeryc and getting him manacled before Dexa could even react (it was like she wasn’t even there). With Amras and Tabris flanking him for defense, Dale reiterated his threat…. “Surrender the fugitives now! The reward is good dead or alive!”

Orodreth stepped forward…. “Perhaps I can be of some assistance….”

[DM_Bolan]

Session 34 Recap (2)

Thock lay in a deep, peaceful slumber. He dreamt of home, visions of small kobold homes carved into the mud around the sweet smelling swamp bog. Ravenous willow trees lean into the murky waters as if they were looking for something to eat. A small skiff navigates across the scene. Two kobolds share a picnic basket of dried meats and green cheese. The two lovebirds look content as as they drift towards shore.

Thock's ears filled with the sound of water whooshing by suddenly. Wait, that wasn't water. What was that smell?

And then he heard the alarm. "FIREBALL!"

And that peaceful scene that has been filling his mind was filled with an image of the kobold kipping up, dodging, and then tumbling expertly through the doorway out of harm's reach! His mind filled with that image, unfortunately, his body remembered the powerful draining attacks he had suffered, rendering him weak and incapacitated. Orodreth had promised to fully restore him in the morning, but the good cleric had exhausted his magic for the day.

A second whoosh fully woke Thock, and he could see the others spread out around the guard post room. They had taken and held the guard post against several waves of Chum-Vah drow. Exhausted, they had secured the guard room as best they could and settled in for a rest. Little did they know, the Chum-Vah walked among them.

With the aid of silencing magic, two of the drow had climbed the web from the lower level and positioned themselves inside the guard post. There, they released their foul magic, two explosive spheres of flaming death.

Thock heard and felt the impact, but then, all he felt was peace. The girl from his dream stood at the end of a great white tunnel.

===

The twin fireballs couldn't have been placed any better - total surprise even with alert sentries watching for them. These drow were well practiced in the art of stealth. The explosions ripped through the chamber as the drow shouted praise to Kiaransalee. Their glee was short lived - a hail of arrows and spells pinned the drow against the back wall until Dexa and Baeryc cut them down.

This had been a tumultuous beginning to the assault on the former outpost, Szith Morcane. House Chum-Vah now controlled it, turning the drow of house Morcane into followers of Kiaransalee and killing those who refused. Having breached the perimeter, it came as a complete surprise to our heroes that a group of armed bounty hunters had been following.

The group, Tabris, Dale and Amras, claimed to have been refugees - the calamity stripping the rangers of their hallowed lands, and the monk of his monastery. It was Lord Randall Morn who told them of great adventurers, who had set upon the task of stopping the drow raids which twice now had taken their toll on the innocent refugees of New Millenbrook.

Once taken in by the group, they had sprung an ambush while Morvian was scouting, Thock was disabled, and they were exhausted of magic. Seizing Baeryc hostage, they demanded the surrender of the fugitives of Rockingham. It was Orodreth who tried to soothe the situation.

"Listen my friend.... understand that we are part of something much larger than the petty indescretions for which for which you seek these "fugitives". There is evil afoot - a powerful evil. A summoning of an army, some one-thousand wizards. They seek to invoke the ancient magic, that which wrought the calamity you have already seen."

The more questions Dale asked, the more concerned he became that the authorities in Rockingham were not to be trusted themselves. It seemed petty crimes against the wrong person could get a person banished. In some cases, it seemed they sought to push out those with unpopular opinions. True justice, seemed unlikely. So he compromised....

"We shall see your task through to it's end, and then we shall return to Rockingham post haste." And that was that. They released Baeryc, let Dexa hug everyone and tell her life story.

===

When Morvian eventually returned, he was accompanied by a strange creature named Larala. She was originally a dark elf, but now, seemingly evolved into something more dark and sinister. In her creepy hiss of a voice, she explained how Lolth no longer whispered to her, how the dark elves of Chum-Vah had ruined everything. She had spent her time preying on Chum-Vah and praying to the spider queen. She swore loyalty Malisce but too many of our heroes could not fathom an evil creature walking among them. They mercilessly dispatched her, sending her plunging down the chasm to her death.

===

Thock floated down the white tunnel and reached out in the misty moonlight. He pulled the girl close and planted a long wet kiss on her. "I can't live without you" he swooned.

The scene suddenly shifted, he was being violently shaken and rudely slapped.

"OF COURSE you can't live without me fool, I just healed you!" Orodreth protested, "And whats the big idea kissing me, thats gross! Ick, I've been kissed by a kobold!"

And so, by the by, Thock lived (barely) and our heroes formulated a plan to breach the next level of Szith Morcane...

"You're doing what? A wall of goodness? What is that sunshine and buttercups spring up in the hallway there or what?"

And with the sunshine and buttercups in place, they scrambled down the enormous web and fell upon the drow waiting for them.