# Company of Chaos - All Around Golarion



## Lwaxy (Nov 16, 2011)

So, this Company of Chaos of mine (family and friends so we play a lot) has this totally crazy idea of playing every AP and as many modules (Paizo and others) with the SAME set of characters. No idea how far we will get but the first few sessions were so much fun and different I was volunteered to post about it.

We do not use a level system but go by what characters actually learn so some things may look off. Otherwise the progression would be too quick. 



Cast:

Cajun -  Half-orc half-halfling Alchemist, quite young at the start of all this and with the goal to make his weird appearance more normal. Has a tendency to liberate items from owners he thinks unworthy of them. Blacksmith apprentice. 

Cajun is tall as an orc and has the shoulders and upper torso of one, but he lacks the facial features, and his lower alf seems slim as that of a halfling, too. If he does not shave or get rid of it otherwise, he hs lots of dark body hair, but his head and facial hair is dirt blond. His skin is light in winter and dark in summer. Hazel brown eyes with a slight hint of red in the white make him appear angry, although he hardly shows any temper people tend to be afraid of him if they do not know him.

Mook – Gnome Oracle of Nature, with the homebrew oracle curse to stutter unless she rhymes.

Dark skinned gnome with probably some human ancstory far far back. Pitch black, curly hair, piercing blue eyes and a smile to die for. Best friend of Zaza.

Dadawin – Her bonded wolf mount with a limp. 

Zaza -.Halfling rogue, Carun's older half sister. Overly protective of him. Has the tendency to liberate items she thinks worthy of her ownership. Which is basically everything valuable. 

Zaza has red blond hair which can glow like fire in the right light. Her eyes, however, are hazel. Her skin is usually light brown, but in winter when she isn't out and about her skin may be almost white. 

Samin – Three-Quarter-Elf (as he is quick to point out if someone thinks of him as a half elf). Double bloodline sorcerer with a talent for wizard, with seemingly no limit to spells. Very capable in learning spells. A lot less capable of knowing when to use them. Cajun's best friend. Allergic to feathers. 

He's thin as a rake and moves awkward, constantly pushing his black dyed hair out of his face. He has died it to be able to pass as Rodawin's real son when needed – the only time he does want people to think he's a half-elf. His eyes have a pupleish hue. 

Wilbur – his accidental Hawk familiar. Cause for much sneezing. 

Rodawin Teltz – Human bard with Varisian roots, the tendency to be overly enthusiastic and the blessing or curse to occasionally spread Murphy fields (everything that can will go wrong for others). Adoptive father of Samin. Voice of an angel.

Teltz has pitch black hair and cold appearing blue and grey eyes. He usually sits a bit slumped over and tries to pass as less than he is unless he needs to use his skills or make people do what he wants. 

Bjön –Dwarf paladin of Desna, happens to be night blind. He travels to free the world from evil, but has an interestingly liberal definition of evil. Pathfinder. 

He's got light red-blond hair but his beard grows a reddish brown. He usually keeps his hair -. Or his beard, if really needed -  trimmed to almost nothing as to not get too many stares about it.


----------



## Lwaxy (Nov 16, 2011)

Traditions, the bane of the youth. At least that was what Zaza was thinking when she, her brother, her best friend and his best friend had been volunteered to undertake the oh so traditional Quest for the Everflame. They all knew it was just a way to try and set them straight. The 4 of them had caused some mischief lately; particularly some items had vanished and a shed had burned down and while nothing could be proven, the Kassen folks knew who was behind it all. No doubt they thought that going on this fake adventure together would make them more responsible or something. All that it would achieve was to make the rest of the town's youth jealous. As if it was fun to travel in cold weather, or worse, camping outside. No, Zaza was a girl who liked her comforts. 

The same was true for Samin, who would always say he wouldn't leave town before he had a secure means (including the money) to travel to some place where he could study more. Which was whenever his sufficiently rich father, the town's current bard, would decide to leave. Considering Samin was living here for 4 years now, it might as well be never. Zaza had the feeling Samin's dad was hiding from something or someone and found the remote place of Kassen perfect for this purpose. 

Her half brother now, he was eager to undertake the adventure, however fake. It must be his orc blood. The curious mix of halfling and orc stood twice as high as she, but had the slender build of their mother. Despite the reason for his existence – an orc raid with lots of casualties – he was well enough liked in town, especially as he was already a good blacksmith and didn't mind helping people for free or for favors if they couldn't pay. 

Mook looked more than bored. The aspiring oracle of nature and her bonded wolf were out and about for days at a time. Of course, being in the open was normal for them. 


The bells atop the Temple of Erastil rang their midday song, echoing throughout the quiet town. As the peals begun to fade, the first of the townsfolk madse their way into the square, dressed in black, as if attending a funeral. They slowly filled the square, moving quietly across the cold, hard ground, their eyes downcast and mournful. After a few moments, a murmur passed through the crowd as it slowly parted to let Mayor Uptal through. He lead the way with a tarnished silver lantern. Behind him, an old pony dragged a cart laden with backpacks and supplies.

Once he reached the center of the crowd, Mayor Uptal stopped and called out to the assembled townsfolk. “Once again the winter winds blow through the Fangwood, marking the end of another harvest. There are wolves in the woods, howling at our walls, and serpents in our shadows, waiting to strike. Just as it was one hundred and seventy-four years ago, when Kassen himself left these walls to protect us, so it is today. Where are the heroes? Where are the brave folk that will venture out to Kassen’s tomb and retrieve the flame to keep this community safe for another winter?”

As if any of it mattered, Zaza thought. Silly tradition, silly fake drama. But as the others, she answered by stepping forward, mumbling something about honor and duty and accepting, then took the meager supplies. The mayor handed the dark lantern they would need to bring back the flame to Samin – no big surprise there – asking him to bring the fire back and all that. 

The mayor once again spoke to the townsfolk. “I present to you the brave heroes who will follow in Kassen’s footsteps to retrieve the Everflame! Some of them may not return, but I say to you that their sacrifice shall not be forgotten. Go, brave heroes, and do not return until you have the eternal fire.” With that, the mayor pointed to the south, the direction of Kassen’s tomb. The townsfolk begun waving goodbye with cold, solemn looks on most of their faces.

"As if a-a-nything w-w-would h-h-happen," Mook mumbled almost inaudible, and Zaza couldn't help but snort. Cajun chuckled. Samin stared at the dark lantern and sighed. "Let's get this over with." 

As the group made their way out of town, a human figure shouldered a backpack and made to follow them. Teltz the bard tended to have premonitions, and he had a strong one now. Neither the 4 selected nor the rest of the town took any of this serious, it was mainly a distraction from everyday life. But he knew something would happen, and he would not leave his son or his friends to their inexperienced selves. 

About two hours later, their feet already hurting – well, except Mook's who was riding her wolf most of the time – something unexpected happened. 

The narrow path winds through the raking claws of the trees, now bereft of their leaves, which crunch loudly underfoot. Up ahead, a fallen tree trunk blocks the path. Suddenly a trio of snarling humanoids leaps up from behind the log, all greenish skin and fearsome tusks, bellowing vulgar challenges.

Samin burst out laughing while Cajun's hands moved to the hammer he always carried. "Don't mind, it's an illusion. Wilbur is somewhere above and says Master Holgast is hiding in the trees west of us."

Mook had trouble calmin her upset wolf down, but within seconds, they noticed the young wizard apprentice was right. They could see through the illusion now, and Mook's noce picked up smoke the scent of the tobacco the older wizard usually stuffed his pipe with. "Nice t-t-ry, at least they att-tt-empt to m-m-make it somew-w-what interesting." 

Zaza groaned. "More tiresome is more like it."

Cajun looked disappointed. "I admit I was worried, I'm just not a good fighter, but you could have let us have some fun." He threw an accusing look at Samin. 

The three-quarter elf shrugged. "And waste more time? Let's hurry, I'm hungry and tired already."

The rest of the day was spent complaining and comparing several townspeople to other beings. No one noticed the man still trailing them. Except the hawk, of course, but he had been told to notify of any possible danger. Teltz sure was no danger to them. 

"It is getting not only dark, but also colder," Zaza reminded them while limping along. She was sure there were blisters forming on her feet. Shouldn't we find a place to camp or something?"

"Or so-so-something," Mook agreed. "I know a g-g-good s-spot not too far f-f-from here." 

"You actually sleep out here?" Cajun asked, surprised. 

"O-only once or t-twice," Mook replied. "When w-we w-were running with the w-wolf p-p-packs and mother." Her mother, a druid, tended to live a weird life like that. 

While the camping side proved sheltered by rocks and bushes, it was still not comfortable enough for Zaza or Samin. While Cajun was setting up the fire and prepared a meager meal from their few rations, the two of them tried every spot on the ground around for comfort but had to admit it was too hard everywhere. At least there was no need to set a watch. Dadawin the wolf would take care of that. The wolves howling in the distance held no worries for them – they were friends of Zaza after all – but the strange noises of the night scared the hell out of Zaza, and she had the feeling Samin was oly pretending not to care. 

None of them had set up a tent before. Twice did they have to pull Cajun out from under before Mook and Samin figured it all out. "I would think you knew how to do this in the first place," Cajun complained. Mook shook her head. "Mother and m-me do -not usually use t-tents. Nature provides everyth-th-thing." Cajun grunted. Once more he wondered how it was that this girl was his sister's best friend. For Zaza, even Kassen seemed to be too much of a hassle to live in. He always thought she would be most happy in a large city. 

The night would have gone fine, except for Zaza and Samin taking turns jumping up in their bedrolls, asking "What's that?" at one sound or the other until Mook felt like knocking them out. Cajun had taken care of the small bottle of brandy he had found in the backpacks earlier and was snoring badly, which didn't add to comfort. 

The morning found Samin and Zaza with pains all over thanks to the uncomfortable ground and Cajun with a hangover. Despite haviung an orc's appetite for spirits, he had a halfling's head for it. Luckily, breaking down a tent was easier than putting it up, and after a meager breakfast, they were on their way again.

Taltz, who had made camp in a comfortable enough tree, kept following them. 

"I need something to drink," Cajun groaned a bit later. "All the waterskins are empty." 

"If you hadn't decided to drink all the alcohol you'd not be so thirsty," Samin repeated for what must be like the 20th time. 

"We'll b-be at Gray L-lake in a moment." Mook was pointing ahead. "M-more than e-e-enough water f-for everyone there."

"I feel I can drink the whole lake," the half-orc moaned again. 

The trees begun to thin, revealing a field of short, green grass that lead to the shores of a wide, calm lake reflecting the overcast sky above. A dense fog hung over the center of the lake, obscuring the far side. Near the shore of the lake, a dark form was lying next to the water.

"Now what do we have here?" Samin wrinkled his nose. "Looks like it's been decaying for a while."

"De... what?" Cajun scratches his head. 

"R-r-rotting, he means." Mook threw a look at the corpse. "Th-that's been h-here last t-t-time mother passed this p-place, she m-mentioned an aba-ba-bandoned campsite s-somewhere close. Must h-have been go-gotten by the giant s-serpent in the l-lake." 

"Serpent??" Zaza and Cajun asked at the same time, jumping back from the shore. 

"Oh c-calm down, it's m-mostly harmless. It p-probably only def-fended itself. C-can you p-please fill my skin, t-too?" Mook grinned and handed it to Zaza. The halfling snorted and passed it on to Samin. 

"Yeah sure, endanger the wizard. The wizard probably has a spell for it. The wizard is probably indigestible." Samin filled the skin and his own and came back grumbling, ignoring the giggles of the others. "Why did your mother just leave the corpse?"

"So n-nature c-can devour it. And why g-going through all the t-trouble of a b-burial, anyway?"

"Devour?" Cajun looked confused again. 

"Eat," Zaza and Mook explained together. Luckily, the half-orc had a good enough memory and only needed each new word explained once. 

With water replenished, the 4 moved on, still unaware of being shadowed. 

The trail lead ever deeper into the Fangwood, through a twisting maze of trees and confusing ravines. As it topped a small rise, a broad valley spread out before it, the opposite side of which looked like a writhing serpent. Yet between the two was a steep hill sloping down into the valley. A cold rain started to fall, making the ground slick and treacherous.

"How do we get down there?" With hurting feet, Samin struggled through the thick bushes. "That slope is rather steep." They had been walking for some more hours now, and the young wizard really wished he could escape the walking and the weather and sit at a nice warm fire, feet up and with a book to read, and he had mentioned the fact several times now. 

Mook got off her wolf and, walking next to him, had no trouble getting down the slope with only a few stones coming lose. "I'll s-send  Dadawin b-back up. Hold o-on to h-him," she told Zaza before she took the long way down. "He'll g-get you d-down safely." 

With a bit more difficulty, Zaza slithered down the slope to join her gnome friend. Cajun, who rightfully deducted he was too tall to hold on to a wolf,  was meawhile trying to walk down Some 10 minutes down the slope, he proved he could not. In a flurry of flying arms and legs and curses, he came tumbling down head over behind to finally land in a heap in front of the wolf, who in turn made a sound which sounded like a wolf version of utter amusement. "Ouch," Cajun grumled and sorted out his appendixes before getting up. "I hope getting up will prove easier. There must be an easier way into the valley." 

"Yeah th-there is," Mook said. "B-but it is a few hours on and a-anyway, we were t-t-told to fo-follow the map."

"Since when do you care what we are told?" Cajun wondered. 

"Good p-point." As they wanted to move on while discussing this further, a shout from above reminded them of something. Samin was still up there. He was too tall to grab on to the wolf as well. 

"Can't you, like, fly down or something?" Cajun shouted up. "Your master must have taught you how!" 

"What?" The distance was too much for Samin to understand clearly. "Flatten the one ring with alabaster tomatoes?" Certainly not, but that was all he had heard. It took Cajun 3 attempts among bouts of laughter to get his point across. 

Yes, in theory, Samin could do a fly spell already, partly thanks to his hawk familiar. He had, after all a "sensational affinity to all things magical" according to everyone who knew what they were talking about. But he could not hold on to it for long, and right now, he could only do very few spells a day. But what was he saving them up for? After all, they just had to get in, get the flame out, and climb up again. 

The rest of the group saw him "waving at the air" as Cajun kept calling it, and a moment later he came flying down the slope, rather close to the ground. A wise precaution, as the spell already faded out half the way down, causing the aspiring magical wonder child to slowly but steadily slide down the rest of the way through some thickets and over uncomfortable stones. With a grimace, he allowed Cajun to help him up. 

"Well, at least you arrived down here with your head up," the young blacksmith grinned. Samin nodded, trying to ignore the scratches and bumps and his dirty pants. 

"Do you smell that?" Cajun asked as they walked on. "Like a dead animal rotting somewhere."

A moment later the source of the scent became clear. An archway of stone was set into the side of a small hill at the bottom of the valley. Moss hadf overgrown many of the details, but one was still quite clear. The keystone of the arch was carved with a flame symbol with a stylized rune in the middle. Beyond the archwaywas a darkened tunnel that leads to a pair of massive wooden doors, one of which was slightly ajar.

A pair of horses and a trio of ponies were lying slaughtered next to the archway, each corpse still tied to a post set into the ground nearby. A swarm of flies hung lazily in the air above them.

"Ewww." Zaza covered her nose with her shirt. "A predator attack?"

"L-looks like it." Mook had gone to check out the cadavers. "Th-there is a hu-humanoid ske-ske-skeleton here, too – w-weird, it could be the o-owner of the h-horses but then w-why is it a-already a ske-ske-skeleton?"

"I know those horses!" Cajun blurted out after taking a good look at them. "And the ponies, too. They are from our town. I've done the hooves of all of them before."

"What? Why would they be here?" Zaza wondered. "S-some m-more pranks for u-us to f-feel threatened, maybe?" Mook mused, looking around highly alert now. "W-wonder what w-went wrong? I can't th-th-think of a p-predator big enough to k-kill them, it w-was certainly n-not wolves, a-and they d-do not look l-like anything has f-f-feasted upon them."

"What does your hawk see?" Zaza asked Samin, trying to push aside the sudden fear. 

"Nothing he thinks suspicious, but there's a rider coming this way." Samin pointed to the opposite end of the valley.


----------



## Lwaxy (Nov 16, 2011)

"A stranger? Maybe we should ask for help. We need to inform the town, too." Always the practical mind, Cajun thought for a moment. "Maybe Wilbur can carry a message? We can hide and wait somewhere, not wise for us to go in there alone, if at all."

"Wilbur is a hawk, not a pidgeon," Samin complained. 

"Maybe the r-riders of these h-horses and, from the l-looks of it, p-pack p-ponies are b-back home already." Mook pointed to empty saddle bags. "They are d-d-dead for at least a d-day, likely m-more, a-and if no one is w-waiting to s-see if we r-run into any p-p-pranks, which is unlikely a-after this happened, th-they should be at l-least close to home." 

"Why didn't they try to stop us and warn us, though?" Cajun shook his head. "If there is a dangerouns predator about..." 

"Maybe n-not. You f-f-forgot something." Mook pointed to the evidence. "The ske-ske-skeleton. I think I k-know why this is a ske-ske-skeleton and not a co-co-corpse."

"Care to enlighten us?" Zaza didn't like the tendency of her friend to turn her discoveries into lectures or guessing games. 

"It was a ske-ske-skeleton attack. The wounds w-would fit..."

Cajun burst out in laughter. "Undead? Here? There were no undead around for decades!" 

"Not that we know of," Samin corrected, looking worried. "Let's head back and get help."

Right then, something came crashing down the slope with a loud curse and dropped hard to the ground. Whirling around, the group saw Samin's father in a heap of dust. "Ohh darn. Ouch. Hah, I knew something would happen and you would need my assistance," the bard exclaimed. 



A bit down the valley, a well armed short figure on a proud warhorse was approaching, following the increasing glow of his sapphire amulet. A heirloom of his father, the hero of many adventures, the new initiated Pathfinder and paladin Bjön was determined to rat out undead and other evils while exploring the world. And it looked as if one of his first steps was close by. 




"No one has come back to the village, we thought they would be watching you maneuvering fake traps," the bard explained to the young people. "If the mounts are dead, maybe they are, too, or at least need our assistance. We can't wait to get more help. As bad as this is, we should at least check out the entrance to the crypt." His eyes fell on his son. "You and Zaza should probably stay here while we..." 

"And have no one to protect us? We are just two, and have no idea how to survive out here if something happens to you either." Zaza's protest was so loud mook took a look around if any evil might have heard them. 

"I'm not leaving my sister outside," Cajun growled. "Nor my best friend."

"You rather want them inside?" Teltz countered. 

"I want them safe. We should go," Cajun insisted, folding his arms. "What could a few of us do if there are really undead? Or anything else dangerous?" Then he frowned. "Why were you even following us? Do we look that incompetent not to be able to bring a simple flame back?"

While they were arguing, Mook had followed her wolf to the entrance of the crypt and peaked through the doors. It was too dark to see much. Her low-light vision only let her see some bones close to the door, likely from more broken apart skeletons. "H-help me o-open the door, p-please," she said, eager to look for survivors. 

While Teltz still explained how it came he was here, they automatically did as Mook asked. Slowly they pushed at the entrance. As the heavy doors swiung open, the faint light from outside revealed a long chamber with risen platforms on either side. A faded painting of Kassen wason the far wall. The room appeared to be the site of a gruesome battle, with two bodies piled in the center and a number of skeletons scattered around. An echoing wail could be heard somewhere in the distance, beyond this foul chamber.

"Oh my!" Zaza went all pale. "They are all dead!" 

Out of surprise, forgetting all care, Cajun stepped inside, sniffing for living beings. Unfortunately, that was about what 6 skeletons not yet shattered did as well. Surprisingly quick, the undead things were rising from the chaos inside. Without thinking – again – Cajun let out a battle cry, took his greataxe and hammer and went rotating in the middle of the room, hacking at everything. With a scream, Zaza and Mook took cover left and right to the exit. The wolf vanished somewhere inside. Samin threw himself on the ground. Teltz drew his rapier, thinking of assisting the half-orc,. but deducted that it would be unwise to step into the way of the flailing blacksmith. 

Some time later, Cajun noticed there were no more skeletons left to smash. Breathing heavily, he lowered his weapons, stumbling backwards over some bones into the middle of the room. Teltz was quick to follow him, grabbing a sunrod from his heavy backpack. In the pale light, them and the others soon could see the faces of two dead villagers. "Gerol and Vark," the bard said. "Friends of the mayor. They love to do the set ups for the Quest." 

"Don't grown men have anything better to do?" Zaza growled. "But there are 6 bedrolls."

"So maybe there is a survivor." Teltz pointed to the back of the room. "I don't know who else came with them, but I intend to find him or her."

Dad, you and your hero complex," Samin mumbled. "There might be more of those things."

"Hah, and if!" Cajun looked all happy with himself. "I just took on 6 of those on my own. It can't be so hard. Maybe none of those wannabe pranksters was armed." 

The wolf came back down the stairs to the platforms and whined in a confirming way. "Nothing u-p there," Mook said. "E-except 2 doors, he says."

Once more Zaza wished she could communicate with animals in such a way. "So can he tell us where the survivor went?"

"That w-way," Mook said, pointing to the left. 

Not hesitating, the bard went up the short flight of stairs, followed by the wolf, Mook and Cajun. Samin sighed and looked at Zaza. "Wilbur says the rider he saw earlier is just outside," he called out. "Maybe we should wait?" 

"What? Rider? You didn't tell me." Teltz stopped short. From outside, they could hear the angry whicker of a horse, then someone heavy getting off from it. Steps came closer, then a deep friendly voice called out. "In the name of Desna, I'm here to bring down the abominations of the undead. Are you of a righteous mind, or do you plague the world with evil?"

Oh dear," Teltz groaned, not sure if to be happy about the new arrival or not. "A paladin, if I have ever heard one."

"A p-paladin? Of D-desna?" Mook's face brightened in the light of the sunrod. She had never met a paladin in her life, but heard only good about them.  "W-we are u-p here, about to l-look for survivors." 

"Ah, yes." The paladin, an amulet on his chest spreading a silver light, took in the scenery. "Friends of yours?" A dwarf, they noticed, battleaxe in hand and wrapped in scale armor, a heavy shield at his side.

"Friends of our mayor. Those young folks here were supposed to do a traditional quest but now it's all a mess," the bard replied, resigned to the fact that he would not get rid of the paladin. And in truth, they could use the help. "Well met, stranger." He proceeded to introduce them in a hurry. 

"Bjön," the paladin nodded as he came closer. He was surprisingly young for one owning an amulet like that. Yet he sure looked competent – at least more so than the bunch of youngsters. "My quest is to rid the world of undead where I find them. And other evils."

"You'll n-never finish," Mook couldn't help saying. 

"No, but a paladin needs to have a goal, and that is mine. At least I'll never run out of work to do." The dwarf looked up at the bard. "Shall we?" 

Teltz pushed at the alrerady half opened door and they went into the room behind. This large chamber contained a maze of pillars that obscured the far side of the room. Next to the door was a pile of empty saddlebags and three brooms.

"I can see, your people were preparing some fake adventure," Bjön deducted. "Little did they knew it would turn into something deadly for them." 

Again, there was a wailing, louder this time. Zaza aqueaked and barely controlled herself no to hide behind the paladin. "Do undead make such noises?" she whispered. 

"Or your survivor." The paladin went on, carefully looking for danger while doing so. Cajun went right past him though, trying to discern where the noise came from. He followed the next wail right, then left again to not end up in a dead end of the maze. A moment later, they could hear the sound of a wooden squeak and then the squeak of an orc. The noise of something heavy hitting something soft followed. "You are doing this for the first time, obviouslky," the paladin frowned, following the sound of the sprung trap. 

They found Cajun on top of several stacked pillows at the bottom of a simple trap door pit. Amazingly, he was unconscious and a large bump was forming where his head had hit the edge of the trap. "Unbelievable," Samin chuckled, not really worried. Cajun's head was hard. "He comes tumbling down the whole slope with only a few scratches, and then this harmless mock trap knocks him out?"

"I c-can't wake him u-up!" Mook and the wolf, the latter licking Cajun's face, were down in the trap now. 

"Maybe we should leave him here and pick him up later," the dwarf suggested. "Bit of a hot head, no? Can be dangerous in here."

"He d-dismantled 6 ske-ske-skeletons," Mook disagreed. 

"What's with the stutter?" Bjön frowned. "Ever tried to sing instead of talk? Helps most of the time.At least it did it for my brother." 

"I c-can't sing. I t-tried," Mook sighed. 

"Indeed," the bard agreed. "And none of us wants her to try again." 

The paladin considered this, then nodded. "Well, if he does not wake up, maybe his sister can stay with him until he does and then they can follow us."

"Can't you just heal him? I thought paladins could do that," Samin asked. 

"Only a few times a day, and I'm afraid I already had to heal someone earlier today."

"Well, we can't get a potion into him while he's not awake," Zaza sounded disappointed. "And a few potions for accidents is all they gave us." 

"W..wait with him here until h-he w-waked th-then give him the p-potion," Mook suggested. "Dadawin w-wil stay with you and lead you to u-us later. H-he can w-warn you of any danger t-too."

Zaza wasn't happy with this, but wouldn't leave her brother either. So she nodded, and when the others moved on, she carefully, closed the trap door above them so no evil would find them easily. 


Not too long later, the rest of the unlikely group found an exist south of the room. The wailing seemed to come from behind. The door was locked. Attempts by the paladin to push it open were met with too much resistance, and the bard's attempt to disable it didn't go well either. "What now?" Samin asked. 

"You are a wizard, right? Don't you have a knock spell? There must be some way to let the 4 of you through or your whole quest would be pointless." The paladin looked around to see if there was anything else to open the door with. 

"Sorry," Samin sighed. "That's one spell I was never interested in. I'll get to that when we get home." 

"Great. Looks like we'll need to go back to the entrance and take the other door then," the bard growled. "I can't do that either." 

After a bit of discussion, they did just that. On their way back, they shouted to the two under the trap door about the change of plans, and the wolf howled an answer. 

Under the trap door, Zaza had just fainted from panic as she heard approaching steps, not thinking that it could be the party returning and not noticing the lack of the wolf's reactions. So the wolf was the only one who heard them.


----------



## Lwaxy (Nov 16, 2011)

The door to the room right side of the entrance chamber opened without problem. 

In the center of this room was a large pool of clear water, fed by a fountain on the wall above it. The fountain had a stone statue of a weeping maiden holding the slain body of Kassen, but his head had been broken off and was nowhere to be seen. A voice boomed out from the darkness, saying, “Magic is the key.” The voice slowly faded, leaving a dreadful silence.

"So, w-what n-now?" Mook felt increasinly nervous without her wolf and without open air around her. 

"Ah., how nice. A riddle." The paladin went to the pool and looked inside. "And I think I got it – we need to find the right key. Probably with magic." 

"Genius," Teltz mumbled so only Mook and Samin could hear. Loud he said "I can do a detect, but I'm no good at swimming." He looked at Mook, knowing Samin to be unable to swim with a sunrod and knowing the gnome to be very agile in water. Mook just stared back. "H-how do you th-think I'll k-k-know the right k-key? T-to many for me to r-remember wh-whatever you t-tell me." 

"Can you do a detect?" Bjön asked of Samin. 

"Sure but I'm not too good at diving, either."

"Well, then, take off your clothes and you hold on to her, you can carry the sunrod and you'll direct her. You can hold your breath, yes?" 

Samin thought about it, then he nodded to the paladin. He had no issues taking his clothes off in front of his friends, so he started undressing and so did Mook. The water was cold, and he shivered uncomfortably, while the gnome was used to cold water. 

With a lot of gestures and losing the sun rod twice, Samin was able to locate the key and they retrieved their price. Samin gasped for air, shivering like mad, while Mook handed the key to the bard, seemingly unaffected. Teltz took the key then grabbed a rug from his backpack to dry of his son. "Are you ok" he worried. 

"Pfft, grrrck.." It seemed to mean yes, so he helped Samin into his clothes and when the three-quarter Elf and the gnome were dressed, they looked around the rest of the room. Two doors were leading out of it to the south, the left one was locked. The other opened, with a protesting squeak they thought could be heard in all the crypt, to a long corridor flanked by a row of human statues, set into alcoves on each side. The statues looked like Kassen, and each one helds a longsword out in front of it. The blades of roughly half the statues were wrapped in leather padding. Some burned down torches were there, too, and the room faintly smelled like lamp oil. 

"What now?" The bard peered into the corridor, but the sun rod only illuminated part of it. "You dwarfs can see in the dark, no?"

"Ah... well, usually, but I'm night blind." It seemed the paladin blushed. "A fault of my family."

"Why are the swords of the statues wrapped?" Samin asked. "Did our townfolks do that?"

"Looks like it. By my guess, it's that sort of trap where the statues try to hack at you. They can't with the leather wraps." The paladin had seen such before, it seemed. 

"That w-will s-s-still hurt!" Mook growled. 

"Well, there must be a trigger." Bjön sounded almost cheerful. "We just have to avoid it. I suggest the gnome hugs the walls and tries to find it, she is lightest." 

Mook harrumped. This would be something right in Zaza's pocket, would she be here. The little halfling was much better at avoiding traps, as some foray into some ruins in their past had shown. She half hoped to see her friend and her brother come through the door to the pool room, but of course that was not happening. "A-alright," she whispered. "G-give me a sun rod." They had enough of those to last a while, she hoped. To be able to maneuver better, she left her backpack behind

With her own sun rod, she pressed herself to the wall, trying to half vanish into the alcoves. She didn't look very agile doing so, but she managed to get half down the corridor when she saw it. "T-there i-is a weird l-looking flor t-tile." 

"A pressure plate, most likely." The paladin's voice was still cheerful. "Drop something heavy on it." 

"L-like what? I-I didn't b-bring anything." 

"Err yeah, should have thought of that," Bjön admitted. 

Teltz emptied out her backpack and added the contents to his and Samin's. "I'll get some rubble," he announced and vanished to outside. 



The halfling rogue so badly missed by her friend was shaken awake just then. The face of her brother appeared above her in the pale light of their own sun rod. "Are you ok? What happened? My head hurts." 

In a few words and while handing him a Cure potion, Zaza explained the situation – pretending she had fallen asleep though. "We need to follow them quickly."

Cajun pushed the trapdoor back open and got out, then lifted his sister out and waiting for the wolf to join them. "I really knocked myself out in a pillow trap? I'll never hear the end of it." 

"They went this way." Ignoring the attempts of the wolf to lead them into the other direction, Cajun and Zaza went east and then south when they noticed the door. There was a paladin sized dent in the wooden door. "Yep, they came here," she chuckled, for a moment forgetting her fears.

"Didn't make it through that way. I wonder if there is a mechanism for it? I could probably burn the door down, but I don't think our elders won't be happy about us damaging the crypt any further."

"We are trying to rescue someone. Does it matter?" 

"You have a point there," Cajun nodded. "Step back."

A flask of alchemist's Fire, thick black smoke, coughing fits and a panicked wolf later, the door was gone. Zaza got up from the floor still gasping for air. "I won't ever ask you to make fire in closed quarters without air again." 

Another wail sounded, even louder now. "This way," Zaza said, following the noise. 

"What if it is not the survivor?" 

"Then... well, you have more flasks of that, don't you?" 

"What was that about fire in close quarters again?" Cajun followed her though, he needed to protect his sister, after all. His hands were on the hilts of his weapons. 

They went left and then down a long corridor to their right. The mournful wailing grew louder with each step toward the door at the end of this musty hallway. There were a host of bones strewn on the floor here, many of which were cracked and broken. "Who is there? Cajun shouted. "This is Cajun, and Zaza, on the ill begotten Quest for the stupid Everflame." 

The wailing stopped. A moment later, the keen ears of the two unwilling heroes made out the sound of a loading crossbow. "I don't believe it, we come to help this one and now we are targets?" Zaza snapped. 

"Maybe he's lost his mind," Cajun suggested. "Hey, we are from Kassen and here to bring you back home. Do you hear? We are friends!" 

"Please?" Zaza added. "We are scared, too. There were skeletons but Cajun destroyed them." 

"And I'll destroy any others coming close." Cajun wasn't as certain about that but he sounded confident enough to make the person on the other side shuffle towards the door. "You help me? And my sister? The one with the voice of dead who stalks these halls in ancient mail took her, she must be alive still. She must. The dead one who speaks..." 

"Wait," Cajun shouted as the one on the other side started to push away the barricade. "We need syou to stay in there and be safe until we rescue your sister and can come back for you. What's your name?" 

Zaza looked surprised, but then she nodded. "No need trying to take a mad man with us, and if we leave him outside he may run and get lost." 

"I'm Roldare. My sister, she's Dimira. Heeeeelp her!" The man started wailing again. 

"Where did you see her last?" Zaza shouted over the noise. 

"Don't remember... somewhere in the crypt..." 

"That's helpful," Cajun groaned. "We'll look for her now. You need to shut up and stay calm, hear? So nothing bad will find you?"

All of a sudden, the noise stopped and they could hear only whimpering. 

"Do skeletons wear mail?" Zaza asked while they walked back the way they came. 

"I don't think so. We should ask the paladin. How come the others have not found Roldare?"

"Maybe they have but decided to give up on him." Zaza pointed to the other corridor, now to their left, which they had ignored before. "Which means they must be that way." 

"Or they took right where we left the trap room before." 

For a second, they stood undecided. Then Cajun went left. "The smith always says that when going into unknown area, you need to make sure nothing falls into your backs. So let's check this out first." 

Zaza didn't bother to mention that until they had not checked everything out, there was always a chance of something falling into their backs. But for some reason, she was not as scared as before. 

A moment later, they arived at another door which was slightly ajar. The stench of decay came out of it. "I hope that's not Dimira," Zaza mumbled. 

"Someone died, and that's always tragic." Cajun peered around the edge of the door, holding the sunrod out in front of him. This small chamber was mostly empty, save for the body of a villager sprawled in the center. Perched atop the corpse was a man-sized brown and yellow beetle, trying to push the corpse into the corner where a pile of trash and filth awaits. 

With a quick move, Cajun closed the door. "A corpse of a man and a bombadeer beetle. I encountered one before, we don't want to deal with it. It probably just wants the corpse, we can come back for the dead later." 

They went back to the burned dowwn door and took the only way they hadn't checked. Again, they came to a wooden door tighly locked. "This is hardwood, can't burn it," Cajun said after trying to push it open. "And I'm not that good a locksmith but to me it looks like this is a one way door."

"What, so the others can't have come this way? Then they must have passed the beetle." 

The wolf howled, trying to get them to understand yet again that they weren't on the right track, but he was ignoired once more. 

"Maybe the beetle wasn't there yet or they magically subdued it. We need to get past it somehow." Cajun frowned and started trotting back to the door he had just closed. 

"Can't you burn the beetle?" Zaza asked, "We can close the door until the smoke settles." 

"Yeah but, I only have two flasks left. What if there are dangers more worthy of a fire attack?"

"What else did you bring?"

"Just some acid. And I'm not sure of those things aren't immune to it. They spit acid themselves. Asides, we might need it, too." 

"Then" Zaza deducted, "you need to kill the thing. You just destroyed some undead, you can do this!" 

"I was not really thinking straight when I busted the skeletons," Cajun admitted, but nodded to show he agreed. He turned and went back, hesitation clear in his step. Carefully, he opened the door a little bit and sighed. "Maybe I should burn it anyway, and we'll close the door until the smoke is gone?"

"My talking," Zaza agreed. "The skeletons you can deal with by yourself, brother!" She sounded proud, but there was no mistaking her saying you instead of we. 

A good aim and a long while later, Zaza became impatient. "Shouldn't the beetle thing have burned out by now?"

"Well, yes... but not the dead body and the heap of rubbish," Cajun explained, smiling sheepishly and, as he hoped, apologetically. "I kind of miscalculated the effects. I should have waited until the beetle was out of the corner." 

With a dramatic sigh, Zaza folded her arms. "This is taking ages, and I don't feel good without the others. Well, maybe I'd not feel much better with them." 

"Sorry, it can only be minutes now." Cajun smiled again and shrugged his shoulders. "We should run through that room rather quickly, though, I saw a door at the other end."

"Agreed."


----------



## Lwaxy (Nov 16, 2011)

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the crypt, a pressure plate was activated. As predicted, the statues all let their swords drop. Except the not yet leather wrapped ones, they all hit the floor with a harmless thud. The blank ones made it clear it would not have been a good idea to step on that plate unprepared. 

"Samin? We can go through," the bard announced. Samin had been checking out the closed door and found the key didn't fit. 

"No we can't," the paladin mumbled. The swords now created a barrier not easy to climb over. 

"Maybe we should have just jumped over it?" Samin suggested a little late. 

"Some people," Bjön made clear, " are not good at jumping. Any distance. At all." 

"We could have thrown you," Samin suggested with a grin. "At least once Cajun was here." 

"Nobody tosses a dwarf!" Bjön growled. "Especially not a paladin of Desna!" 

Mook, trapped between the sword blockade, tried to dislodge the backpack with the rubble to maybe lift up the swords again, but to no avail. It was stuck under the blades. "Try to get to the other end," Teltz suggested. 

"That's where the unwrapped swords are, they look too sharp for my taste." But Mook carefully came out of the alcoves and attempted to dodge past the lowered weapons. There were a few close moments – close enough for a cut, anyway – but she made it through. "What now? Are you coming?" 

The paladin was already on his way. With mail and gauntlets, he had no worries about being cut – getting over the swords as he was too biug to dodge under was another matter, especially with his shield. He was, as he made clear, not going to leave it behind though. The vew was rather comical, but asides from Samin's supressed chuckles, no one commented on the  less elegant – more elephant as he called it – moves of the dwarf. Finally, the paladin rolled over the last set of swords and barely avoided a fall on the other end. 

Taltz followed with a lot more elegance, almost making it a show to dance over the blades while holding the sun rod. Björn grumbled but didn't comment. Samin hesitated. He wasn't exactly the most dexterous. On the contrary, he was lanky and awkward in his current state of development. Under the stares of the others, he finally made to the middle where the unwrapped swords started. Then a light went on in his head. With a grin, he turned and unwrapped the two swords behind him, having little difficulty to cut the wraps. Then, with care, he rewrapped them around the swords in front of him, which was more difficult then when they had been raised, but it wasn't too difficult either. He climbed over and repeated the process once more before joining the others. His father and Mook just stared at him in disbelief – probably because they had not had the same idea. Bjön just laughed. "Elves – always good for suprises." 

"What's it w-with a-all the d-doors?" Mook broke the silence, staring at the next, semi-opened door in front of them now. 

"Unbelievable," Samin mumbled. "Why can't they create simple crypts. One or two rooms for the deceasaed, that's all that is needed. Look at the trouble all this waste of space has gotten us in now."

"A sign of respect," the bard explained, motioning for their mailed companion to check the next room. "Plus, there are a lot of raids on gravesides still. It was a precaution."

"So? Looks to me like the bad guys got in and we are the ones having trouble. Asides, if people would stop wasting valuables by giving them to the dead, no one would raid graves in the first place. Well, except some necromancers, I suppose." 

"Shouldn't w-we w-wait for the o-others?" Mook suggested. "W-what is taking them s-so long?" 

"Next room looks harmless enough," Bjön said and waved to them. "But I don't trust it just yet." 
One half of this lofty chamber had a lowered floor, with stairs on either side to reach the bottom. Standing opposite the door was a tall wooden statue of Kassen grasping a gigantic wooden shield in each hand. One of the shields was inscribed with the word “home,” while the other read “family.”

"There are too many images of Kassen for my taste," Samin said. "But placing a golem in his likeness here is very bad taste." 

"Golem?" Teltz frowned. "What makes you say that?" 

Samin begun to count off the tell tale signs, beginning from the way the wood was worked to the mobile appendixes – you could see it if you looked really close. It was hard with only the light from the sunrod. "So, it w-will attack us if w-we enter the r-room?" 

"Probably not, I guess only if we go down there where it is. And from what I gathered until now, there will probably be a lot of stupid traps again. We should leave it alone."

"Some issues with that," his father said drily. "There is a door on it's side. We may need to reach it." 

"O-or not." Mook said, pointing the barely visinble stais going down somewhere else entirely, just to the left of the upper part of the room. "T-that goes to the l-lower l-level of the c-crypt, I guess." 

"I find it unlikely you would be expected to get past that thing," Teltz nodded. "We can just ignoire it, I think. Unless we find some more skeletons to lure into here. I bet the thing would make short work with them."


On the other side of the crypt, the smoke of the ill conceived beetle burning fun was finally gone, and the siblings carefully moved through to the next room. The were not even half there when more smoke was coming their way. "What now?" Zaza rambled. "Where's that coming from?" 

Cajun peaked into the room the smoke emerged out of. The remains of a small fire smoldered in the center of this broad chamber, letting off a plume of oily smoke. Fed by a heap of burning gear, debris, and more than few bones, the fire casted a flickering light across the walls of this room, partially obscured by the veil of smoke.

"Looks like someone was burtned here with all their gear, I can still smell their remains." Cajun tried to sound casual, but he felt sick to his stomach. "No point going in there until that is out, there must be a nbatural chimney but I see no point in waiting. They aren't here."

"Look, stairs leading down," Zaza exclaimed, pointing to their right. "They went that way." She didn't take notice of the wolf's howling attempt to direct them back once more.

"Going deeper? I don't know..." 

"We promised to rescue that poor guy's sister. What if that was me and you were needing the help?" Zaza's fear had all but gone, there was just a lingering worry at the back of her mind, and the need to find the others and the missing woman. 

"Very well," Cajun agreed. "But I have a bad feeling about this." 

The light of a sun rod went towards them while they walked down. "Mook, Samin? Is that you?" Cajun called out. A moment later Amin answered affirmative, but he sounded amazed. "Cajun? What are you doing here?" The wolf rushed by them and went to gret his master enthusiastically. 

"We crossed under something," Teltz deducted. "Likely another corridor we have not found yet. We got back to the other side." 

In short words, they told each other what had happened. After that, it seemed clear that there were two choices – try and get past the golem to the room on the lower end, or break open the other door somehow which was leading out of the pool room. Or, as it had worked before, burn it. Zaza seemed fond of that suggestion. "Just this time, we can use the lamp oil. It's all in your packs," she pointed at Samin. 

"There are no undead where the golem is," the paladin said, pointing to his amulet. "We need to go down, so I vote for the door from the pool room." 

"We have to climb all the way back over the swords?" Samin groaned. He still felt a bit tired from his last climb. 

"Don't complain, it is more difficult for me," the dwarf laughed. 

And so it was that the party made heir way back to the pool room and set the door on fire, creating yet more smoke. 

"More images of Kassen," Samin groaned as they saw the room behind it. A small stone bench sat in the center of this dusty chamber. On the far wall was a faded mural depicting the hero Kassen defeating the mercenaries at the entrance to this crypt, with his blade piercing the chest of the mercenary leader. These figures stood alone in the center of a scene of carnage, with dead villagers and mercenaries all around them. 

"Yeah, I am g-getting tired of h-his face, t-too," Mook agreed. 

"Now here's something amazing," Teltz said and pointed. "No door at the start of the next corridor." 

"Maybe someone burned it before?" Cajun suggested. 

"Doesn't look like it." Zaza carefully walked down the corridor around where it turned right. "As I feared, there's a door there."


----------



## Lwaxy (Nov 22, 2011)

We didn't make it through the adventure as expected, the battles took quite a bit longer than it seems, with the usual misses. 

----------------------------


The dwarf pushed by the others, obviously impatient about Zaza's hesitations. "There are always lots of doors in dungeons and tombs," he stated with a certainty he acquired by listening to his family talking about their many adventures. He wasn't about to tell them he had only been in a dungeon once, and never in a tomb of any kind. With a gesture he thought would appear knowledgeable, he put his right index finger to his nose. The door looked simple enough; it would slide right when pulled by a small handle. He made a move to do just that. 

Zaza sighed in a loud manner suggesting she thought the move foolish. "It's the middle of the crypt, as it seems, maybe it's protected and we should be more careful?"

"Nah," Samin grinned. "If there were real dangerous traps in here they wouldn't have sent us." 

"But they all died before they finished dealing with the crypt, I guess," the bard countered. "Maybe there are dangerous traps in here they could not disarm, son." 

At the mentioning of the two of them being related, the paladin raised his eyebrows but decided to inquire about it later. "The door looks simple enough. I can't see anything looking like a trap." Zaza behind him snorted, doubting the man's ability to find traps at all, but he didn't hear it. "There were no trapped doors in here until now, so why should this one be?" He winked at Zaza, but the girl was too tense to notice he was making fun of her. And if she had noticed, she might have exploded. Samir, who noticed both the teasing and Zaza's nervous state, decided to intervene by taking action. As foolish as it was, he had no other idea than to pull the door open. It took a bit of effort as he wasn't the strongest, but with only a minor squeak, it gave way to a seemingly vast room as dark as every other they had come through. 

The squeak of the opening door echoed back from inside in a way suggesting it was a larger room, probably with higher and maybe even lower walls. An abyss, maybe? The dwarf, able to judge such sounds from growing up mostly underground, lifted a hand to stop them for a moment. Silently, he lamented his night blindness. With the other hand, he took another sunrod from the pouch at his waist, certain they would need more light now. Holding it into the opening, he could see the door led out to a wide ledge going round a hole in the ground. Something tall was to the middle of the room, barely recognizable. 

"A tall wooden structure," Samir reported, being able to see way better in the dark. "It seems to have holes in it." 
Bjön held the sunrod into the room as best as he could, and finally he was able to make it out as well. A single pillar in the center of the room supported this wide, domed chamber. The pillar was surrounded by a pit, but a stone bridge crosses the pit on the south side. Dozens of arrows jutted from holes in the pillar, facing every direction.

"Probably a trap," Zaza suggested. Carefully, she peered through the opening, but there was nothing moving, and the ledge around the opening in the ground at least seemed to be solid. "Maybe only one of us should step in with a rope tied around so no one falls down." There were, after all, ropes in their provided packs, and there must be some reason for those. 

"As g-g-good an ideas as a-any," Mook agreed. Shew was about to tie a rope around herself, being small and light, but Bjön gently took the rope from her. "I will not allow anyone else to endanger themselves." 

"Paladins," Samin's father mumbled barely audible. 

Mook stared for a moment and appeared to consider whether she had just been patronized or not. Additionally, the dwarf was, while small enough, quite heavier thanks to the armor. But with all of them to hold on to the rope, especially considering Cajun's strength, it should pose no problem to reign the man back in. So she nodded and handed him the rope. It was not as if she was keen on putting herself in danger, and the wolf pressing his snout into her hand was another reason not to risk her life if someone else wanted to do it. 

As Bjön went into the room, sunrod held high, the door suddenly begun to close behind him. With a shout of surprise, Cajun and Samin leaped forward to keep it open but they were too late. It locked with a rumble. 

"Let's open it again," Zaza hissed, but she was interrupted by Teltz' laughter. "No, don't... I just remember something. I guess I know what this is. Remember the blunt arrows we found at the entrance?"

The youngsters thought for a moment, and Samin shook his head. Zaza and Mook nodded, though, they had seen the padded arrows around the dead bodies but had not paid them any mind. "Well, I heard talk of a rotating mechanism firing arrows when they talked about the crypt at the harvest festival. I guess we found it."

Samin nodded, putting the holes in the wooden structure into perspective in his mind. "But why leave the door closed?"

"B-because he is a s-self i-important p-paladin and has an a-armor to p-p-protect him?" Mook grinned

"Exactly." The bard's grin almost split his face in two, a scary sight in the pale light.

"You are evil, da," Samin chuckled. A moment later, they all laughed like mad, their inherent fear momentarily released as something else. 



Bjön, on the other hand, didn't quite share the fun. No sooner had the doors slid shut without a way to open them from his side that the large wooden contraption in the middle started turning. Then the first arrows short out at him. With a clang, the blunted arrows reflected from his armor, not leaving any dents but still forcing him to stumble back to the wall. One hit him on the helmet and almost made him fall. And there were many arrows. Grumbling, knowing that the machinery would eventually run out of them, the dwarf turned his face to the wall and waited. It would have been easier to jump back through the door and wait it out had someone thought to do that... but maybe it was jammed?

Eventually, the torrent of arrows ended. Breathing a sigh of relief, Bjön turned around and had a better look at the room. He looked at the  bridge going over the pit, likely a possibility to reload the mechanism but he had no intentions of looking any closer. His amulet indicated he had to move around to the south end of the room to find the undead he had been looking for even before he met the others. There was, to no big surprise, another door there. 

After his encounter in this room, the dwarf was hesitant to walk on alone. The girl, Zaza, seemed to have some trap sense, and it was not likely the rest of the group was unable to get in here. He decided to wait. His head was itching, but taking his helmet off in this situation was probably not such a good idea. Grimacing, he hoped the others would hurry up. 

A short while later, the door squeaked open again and Zaza's head peaked out of the corridor. "Is it safe yet?" she asked with a grin. 

"Quite," the dwarf nodded. "I take it you had some idea what was coming?" Bjön directed his question at the bard. 

"Well, yes, I remembered some talk at a festival. We thought you were fine with your armor." The look in the human's eyes was definitely not apologetic. 

"Hrm, well, don't forget there are undead here, and at least one abducted girl. We better try to stick together from now on."

Zaza went pale, her skin taking a grey tone which was even visible in the pale light. She had all but forgotten about that, her scared mind pushing it to the back of her mind. "We better get going then, I guess," she mumbled. 

The ajar door in the south led them to yet another large room. 4 pillars held up a dome-like ceiling, with the room shaped like a stepped pyramid with them entering from the top. A continuous carving of mourners ran along the walls here, leading to a staircase on the south side of the room. Dripping water could be heard from downstairs, and what appeared to be a distant moan. Two alcoves could be seen next to the staircase. The layout was somewhat confusing, but at least the polished walls reflected the light somewhat.

As soon as the group set foot into the room, however, the pillars seemed to be moving. It took them a moment to realize it was not the pillars, but 4 blood dripping skeletons. Zaza let out a piercing scream, she had never liked to see blood. Mook and her wolf took a step back and both snarled. Samin wondered aloud how those things could still be dripping blood when they were long dead and had no body. His mind could not wrap around this, probably out of the sheer terror of the encounter. It was like his brain froze until it could solve the one riddle. 

Cajun and the paladin, however, both went forward with a battle cry. Like before, Cajun went right into it and whirled around, being surprisingly nimble in his aim to avoid the things while bludgeoning them. A bit more controlled than in his initial encounter in the entrance hall, he managed to hit at least half of the time, but to his surprise, the undead things did not seem to be particularly concerned about his hammer. Bjön had more success, his axe cutting the spine of one in half at first try – but the abomination would not stop moving. Instead, it tried to crawl towards Mook. "someone must have put them here," the bard mumbled absentmindedly, then he mumbled a few words while throwing something from his pouch. A glittering dust fell on the skeleton crawling towards them and on one of the two Cajun was fighting against. The abominations seemed to hesitate, unable to see their foes any longer. The standing one turned and grabbed, in the hopes of finding a new victim. 

The amulet on the paladin's armor was suddenly glowing, directing a beam of bright multicolored light at the skeleton grabbing at him. The beam went right through the creature's arm, pulverizing it. Then Bjön turned the amulet, letting the light go over the rest of the once human body. A sickening smell of burning bones was now everywhere in the room, and the thing was gone. Before the amulet stopped glowing, Bjön, with some fast strides, stepped towards the two blinded skeletons and almost completely vaporized them as well. 

"Hey," Cajun gasped, hacking an arm off his last foe. He had blood on his hammer which was running down the handle, and the thought of touching it made him sick. "What about this one?"

"Sorry, the amulet only works when I am in trouble of being harmed. I can't control the silly thing," the paladin admitted. His axe smashed the pelvis of the last skeleton, and a few hacks later, he chuckled at the bone parts while sprinkling some water from a flask on it. "Holy water," he explained. "Sometimes they come back otherwise."

Bjön seemed to worse for the wear, but Cajun was frantically cleaning his hammer my bouncing it on the ground and shaking the blood loose. He looked like he had just run a marathon in all his working gear under hot sun, and his breath was labored. Visibly shaking, he tried to smile at Zaza, who was not really paying any attention to him. 

Samin finally stopped staring ahead, now that the abominations had ceased to exist. "Do we really want to go down there?" he said in a rather high pitched voice, his fear more than obvious.

"Do you hear that?" The boy's adoptive father was suddenly all determined. "That wail – what if it is from the girl we are seeking? What if she is still alive?" 

Bjön stepped up ahead, and it was clear that he didn't intend to turn around. The others knew he would have come in here alone if they had not been there already. There must be more to him than a young dwarf with a powerful amulet. One by one, they followed him. "His amulet does not help us," Samin cautioned. "Easy to act the hero when you have something like that." But he, too, followed, if just to not be alone in the crypt. Their steps seemed to echo unbearably loud in this hall and down the stairs. 

At the bottom of the stairs was a circular chamber with three passageways leading from it. In the center was small stone pedestal. The sound of dripping water could now be heard coming from the eastern passageway, while the stench of rot emanated from the west.

Zaza sniffed. "I now remember there are other tombs here but that of Kassen. Must be where the undead come from, but who made them?"

"More t-tombs?" The halfling was not sure if to hide behind her wolf or shelter him. "B-but who m-made the d-dead into m-m-monsters?"

"We'll find out." The dwarf pointed to an inscription in the floor, spiraling out from the pedestal. “To the south you might take your ease, to rest and reflect on Kassen’s deeds. To the east lies the wheel, to open the gate. To the west is the resting place of Kassen, hero of the Fangwood," he read aloud, following the letters with the sunrod. 

"Does this make sense to anyone?" Cajun asked. "What wheel, and why would anyone want to rest down here?"

Bjön turned around once and then went east towards the dripping noise. A passage led him and the group now following him as if he was their leader – a typical paladin thing, if you asked Teltz – a slight slope down a corridor  until it turned left and right. Here, it was flooded except a small part in the middle where their corridor entered. The water was not much at first, but one could see it getting deeper within the radius of the sunrod already. From the leaking ceiling, more water dripped slowly down. "One should make repairs eventually, lest the whole thing comes down," Cajun grumbled. "Or the whole crypt gets flooded. Imagine young people in a few decades having to dive for the everflame. If," he added after a moment, "it is even still here." 

Quickly they went back to the stairs, and here the wolf took the initiative to whine and move toward the southern passage, from which no sounds came. The short passageway takes a bend before ending in a small chamber dominated on the far side by a silver fountain quietly burbling perfectly clear water. An inscription above the fountain reads “Kassen’s legacy lives on with his people. Drink and be refreshed.”

"Y-yeah r-right," Mook mumbled. "A-as if I'd d-drink anything from d-down here."

The wolf stepped to the fountain and wagged it's tail though, as if to indicate everything was fine. "We might need water later, so we better keep this place in mind," Teltz suggested, pushing his raven hair out of his face. 

"Alright, but no girl here," Zaha whispered barely audible. "So we need to go where the stench is, after all." 

"Figures," Samin muttered. He was not cut out for this, he was a book worm, eager to study, not to go underground like a mole. And offending smells often caused him to gag or faint, which had lead to a lot of jokes during visits to his friend's master's alchemy lab in the past. But again, being left behind was not an option, and even if his father would walk back with him, they would be only two spellcasters with no or rather doubtful magic at their disposal. 

This time, the corridor opened up into a winding catacomb. The walls were skillfully carved with deep recesses where bodies might have once lain. All that remained now were cobwebs, dust, and the tattered remains of ancient clothing. The stench of rotting flesh was overpowering here, but the source was not evident.

"Are they still in... in their tombs?" Cajun asked. "Or did we fight their leftovers?" As he said that, he stepped into the doorless room. Immediately, shuffling sounds could be heard from behind the old coffins. 

"Those are not skeletons," Teltz warned. "Those are..." 

"Z-z-z-zo.." Mook started and hid behind Cajun and her wolf. 

"Zombies," Bjön completed. "They look terribly bloated, too. Shouldn't they be more of a mummified kind, after all the time? Or fallen apart?"

"No idea," Zaza almost squeaked. "But there's 4 of them and they come closer. "What about getting back where we came from?" 

"They look to be a lot fresher," Teltz analyzed. "Some grave robbers, maybe? No townsfolk clothes, that's for sure." He was pushed back into the crossroads by the others, the paladin bringing up the rear. The catacomb was a bad place to maneuver, they stood a better chance out there. 

I'm not going close to those things," Cajun announced. "I'm not really a fighter." 

"Can you do that sparkly thing again?" Zaza asked the bard. "Would help if they can't see a thing."

"Maybe. If we all get on the pedestal, maybe they will come all in one file and I can get them all. From what I know about zombies, they are just mindlessly following along." 

"Quintessentially," Bjön nodded and jumped on the pedestal as well. The badly distorted and smelling animated corpses came closer. Mook vomited over the edge of the pedestal, looking decidedly green, as much as the others could guess in this light. 

"We would make a nice group of legendary heroes," Cajun tried to joke, ignoring a shiver. "Can you imagine the story of Nan and the Liberators with them vomiting and shaking all the time?" No one answered him. 

Teltz waited until the outstretched arms of the obscenely groaning monstrosities reached out for them before he did his spell again. This time, the glittering dust set on all of them, but they were not as deterred; two still tried to come up the pedestal. Everyone jumped down, Zaza almost falling in her own vomit. She caught her footing with difficulty, probably owned to her being so shaken. 

Her trouble to stay upright caused a grin to spread over Teltz' face, and a moment later he was again mumbling something. Another moment later, the zombies following them started to lose their balance on a seemingly slippery floor. One by one, they tumbled down. 

"Your holy water!" Samin suddenly exclaimed. "You have a lot, yes?" the voice of the mage apprentice was hopeful. "Can't you put it on your axe and make them stay dead once you hit them?"

Bjön frowned for a second, then he nodded. With a bit of difficulty, he put the remaining water from the small bottle he had opened earlier on the blade of his axe. Then he stepped carefully towards the zombies, attempting to stay just outside the slippery area the bard had conjured up. Dancing around them and avoiding their grasp, the paladin hacked them apart one by one. While it took longer than appreciated, the method worked and slim tendrils of smoke rose from the destroyed undead. To everyone's surprise, each of them exploded before falling apart. Some weird evil magic shot the rotten flesh and bones into several directions. Bjön's amulet glowed and seemed to erect a shield between him and the zombie leftovers, but Cajun, who stood protectively a good distance away in front of the others - just in case – got hit by a nasty piece of rotten flesh. Zaza went green in the face. 

"Wash this off at the fountain!" Teltz commanded. Cajun was just all too happy to follow the order. 

The stench at the crossroads was now almost unbearable. It was said that after a while you would get used to almost every smell, often within minutes, but this was definitely not true for rotting bodies. "I-I need some f-f-fresh air," Mook coughed. 

"That will have to wait till later, I'm afraid. Not a good idea to go up there alone and I am not turning back before the girl, or what is left of her, is found." The dwarf already turned towards the catacomb they had found the zombies in. 

Cajun was not the only one cleaning himself at the fountain; Samin, Mook and Zaza followed suit, though they had not been hit with any nasties. Careful not to dirty the fountain, they washed and had a little drink. "I feel all better now," Zaza exclaimed, her fear taken from her for now. Mook just nodded, giving the frightened wolf a bit of water as well. When they came back to meet Teltz, the human pointed to the catacomb. "Our invincible paladin, hero of all dwarfs is already in there," he sarcastically remarked. 

"Well with that amulet, he better go ahead and clean the undead out for us," Zaza mumbled. 

Mook seemed to want to say something, but it was obvious her stuttering prevented her to talk right now. Instead, she grabbed the wold by the scruff and directed him onward. Together, they followed Bjön, and the others shrugged in silence and followed her. 

Bjön was going through a rotting backpack when they reentered the room. "Seems our suspicions were right; those bodies were only a few months old. There's a tattered map of the area here, marking the entrance to the crypt, some money and a healing potion. And a curious notice." The dwarf handed it to the bard. 

"A notice of employment offered," Teltz said and scratched his head. "Someone employed those zombies - I mean before they turned that way - to come here and... do what?" 

"That's what it looks like," Bjön nodded. "Any idea who would employ adventurers, or grave robbers, whatever you might call them, to come to the crypt of Kassen? Is there anything of real value here?"

Taltz snorted. "Unlikely, our town isn't rich, and hero worship nice and dandy but if there was anything valuable here once, it's now gone I guess." 

 "Maybe the emplyer didn't know," Samin suggested. "Is there a name?" 

"No." Teltz put the notice away in his pouch. "We might want to send someone to the meting place mentioned to make sure it does not happen again. The mayor will not appreciate the place being robbed. Maybe even notify authorities." 

"Yeah, as if anyone else cares," Samin sighed. 

Zaza pointed to the open door in the south of the room. "Let's get away from this smell."

No one argued. But the sight and smell in the next room was not really better. A shallow reflecting pool divided this long chamber, running from one end to the other. The water looked cloudy and stagnant. What must have once been marvelous murals covering both walls was now scorched and ruined, the original subject lost in the destruction.

"A shame," Teltz growled. "Don't think it will be possible to repair these."

"What's with the pool?" Zaza wondered. "It's been completely ruined, too, just look – oh, no!" 

From the murky pool's shallow reflection, her own but rotten corpse stared back at her, then it slowly turned and started attacking the others. Zaza blinked, and horror almost overcame her, but then she let out a deep breath and steadied herself. An evil illusion was all it was. From the corner of her eye, she saw the paladin, her half brother and Teltz react much the same way. Samin, though, staggered backwards with a gasp and panic in his eyes, and from the other side of her she could hear a scream clearly coming from Mook and a whine belonging to the wolf. As she turned to calm her friend, it was already too late. Mook took off between sobs and wails, her confused companion right on her trail. As Mook had no source of light – the paladin and the halfling holding the sunrods – they were soon out of sight. No doubt the wolf could orient himself by scent, but as a gnome, Mook was able to see quite well when there was little light but not without any at all. And all the sunrods were in Samin's pack. 

Zaza was torn between following her friend and not leaving the protection of the paladin's presence. Without noticing, she had come to rely on him. Samin was sobbing to the other side. Samin's father and Cajun, the latter looking very confused, held down the three-quarter-elf to prevent him from running off as well. 

"Not your fault, this pool is a trap." Teltz spoke as if he could read Zaza's mind. "Mook has Dadawin, he'll be able to guide her back to us once her panic wears off."

"How long will that take?" Zaza asked weakly. 

"We'll see when he calms down," Cajun said, still restraining his friend. 

"There's a portcullis here," Bjön said from the south of the room, holding the sunrod up so the other could see better. "There seems to be an unlocking mechanism on the other side. So as much as I want to get out of this room without having to go back, we have a bit of a problem here."

"Maybe... maybe I can open it," Zaza offered. She had, in the recent past, found out she had quite a knack for opening locks. 

No luck with this door, though. There was, as they soon found out, no lock or keyhole. Just a lever set in the wall on the other side, barely viewable if you pressed against the wall to take a peek. 

"That makes no sense," Samin suddenly said, still with a shaky voice but the terror had obviously left him. "There must be a way to get in from this side." 

"Not in this room," his father shook his head. "Maybe we overlooked something outside."

"So back out after all, and then looking for Mook while at it?" Zaza suggested. 

"No point in looking for her when she will have come to her senses now and is probably on her way back already. No, I was wondering if Zaza could squeeze through the bars. The lever looks workable enough." Bjön looked at her with a smile. 

"I'll try," Zaza agreed. Once Mook returned, she wanted to be away from this place.


----------



## Azkorra (Nov 22, 2011)

Hey, a fellow German DM! 

Playing all the modules and APS with the same group is quite a task to take on and  honestly I wonder how this will play out level-wise, but...

I'm keeping my fingers crossed and look forward to regular reports of your party's antics, for, as far as as Pathfinder is concerned, we really need someone to follow in JollyDocs's footsteps here (in addition to Arendel and his Serpent Skull campaign)!


----------



## Lwaxy (Nov 23, 2011)

I'm quite hopeful because we are also playing a long 13 worlds spanning homebrew campaign that's running for about 10 years now (and will likely need 4-5 more years to finish). 

As for levels, we go by what characters actually manage to learn and not so much by XP. As there will not always be time to learn a lot in between parts of adventures, it should be workable. And for some adventures, probably only 1 or 2 of them will do them as some will be stuck with RL work and/or school. We found in the past that even a lvl 2 encounter can be fun for a level 10 if they have to do it alone and we don't take ourselves too serious. 

I don't know how obvious it was, but for the last session, Mook's player, which happens to be son's GF, wasn't present so she didn't act much. We have yet to figure out a good substitution player system, but first everyone really needs to get into their characters.


----------



## Lwaxy (Nov 24, 2011)

Single player session with Mook the gnome to catch up on her fate after she split from the party. 

--

Mook, however, had managed to get lost. After bouncing into this and that wall on her way out of the catacomb they had come though and almost falling over the pedestal in the crossroad room, she had finally managed to hang on to one sane thought – finding a wall and walking along it instead of into it. She was still rushing it though, and so it too her a moment to notice that she had taken a left turn and a right somewhere and water was splashing under her. In fact, her sturdy boots were already filled with water. Stopping, she gasped for air. There was no other sound but dripping water and her labored breaths, and cold was creeping up from her wet feet. And of course, it was totally dark. Her hands were resting on a wooden structure she recognized as a door. "I b-b-better t-t-turn b-back," she told herself, finding comfort in her own voice but getting exasperated at her stutter made worse by the cold and her fear. Unfortunately, she involuntarily increased the pressure of her hands and the door slowly opened into whatever lay behind. Reacting too slow in her surprise, Mook stumbled forwards and fell face first into the water. 

A moment later, she heard something moving towards her, and then there was a loud croak. It definitely sounded like a frog. A dim green light came from somewhere. The room was filled with water, probably as deep as the outside corridor. The chamber was in an advanced state of decay, with a gaping hole in the ceiling admitting a constant trickle of water. This was also the source of the greenish light. The three stone sarcophagi in this room were almost completely covered in a thick carpet of moss and fungus. On the first sarcophagus, a giant frog was sitting. Mook, on her feet again, could feel the movements of the water – at least two creatures were swimming towards her. 

"He-hello!" the gnome said, deciding that her ability to talk with animals would be a good chance to avoid any conflict. ""You m-may be hungry, but I a-assure you, I'm n-not a f-food s-s-source for you." Luckily, the animals would only hear the meaning of her words, and not her stutter. 

Two more frogs came out of the water close to her, looking decidedly spooky in the green light. "You look fine to eat to us," one commented, definitely not used to being talked to by its dinner.

"W-what do y-you usually eat d-down here?" Mook wondered. "Y-you should kn-know that preying on two-legs is n-not usually h-healthy." No need to let them know she had little, if any, defense. 

"Rats. Bugs. Spiders. Crawly things. Bad smelling two-legs made them all go away." The frog on the sarcophagus made it sound as if that was her fault.

"M-maybe you sh-should just go out of here, t-then?" Mook suggested. 

"Can't jump so high," the frog replied, sounding sad. 

Mook looked up and frowned at the hole in the ceiling. "This gg-goes to your old p-pond, n-no? M-maybe I can help you g-get out if -you don't eat me. W-would you l-like that?"

"You can't jump that high either, not with those legs you can't," one of the other frogs noticed. 

"W-well no, but I c-can climb up o-on that thing a-and l-let you hop from m-my sh-shoulders. It m-might work. O-or I c-can just sh-show you an other exit, I g-guess." 

"We do not want to go out of the water again. Last time we tried, smelly two-legs almost eat us," the frogs made clear. "You look sturdy, we will try."

With a little difficulty, Mook climbed up onto the sarcophagus in the middle, directly under the opening. She only fell back into the water twice. She felt decidedly silly with the frogs staring at her and was also worried they might decide to try gnome meat after all. But finally she was standing with legs wide and slightly bowed forward. "Hop to it," she told them. 

A moment later there was a substantial weight on her shoulders, and another moment later, she felt pushed down to the stone as the frog jumped off of her. In vain she tried to hold on to the lid of the stone tomb, but once more she felt herself gliding under the water. As she came back up, however, there was a croaking sound which was definitely laughter. "I'm out, I'm out," the frog confirmed. 

The other two frogs were closing in on her, and with a sigh, Mook climbed back up, this time not slipping. It took the next frog 4 tries to get out, and every time Mook fell off, once banging her chin on the lid. The last frog only took two tries. By the time the last one croaked thanks and goodbyes, she had enough of water and cold. Quickly, she cast her favorite spell for being out and about. Now the elements would not bother her anymore. 

Her eyes darted around the room, noticing another door than the one she came in. This one was slightly ajar, revealing a long corridor with seemingly nothing else in it. For all the fear she had displayed earlier, her little adventure with the frogs and being rid of the wet cold made her a lot more bold all of a sudden. She made the somewhat foolish decision to move on. 

The water was deeper in the corridor. The corridor turned right after a bit, and just when Mook remembered she had no light and should probably give up at this point – it was getting difficult to see something – a blueish electric discharge came from the room to her right, illuminating the corridor long enough for her to make out the opening to a larger room at its end. "Ugh, A-azure Fungus," she muttered to herself. She would avoid the room to the right, this sort of fungus was not pleasant to deal with and would discharge electric loads every few minutes. Mook had had an unfortunate encounter with a small one of this specimen only a few weeks ago and no intention to repeat it. At least there was little danger anything would come at her from there, she mused. 

The end of the corridor was the end of the effect of the green light from the frog room. The water was deeper here yet and appeared to be a lot murkier. "I sh-should have listened t-to m-my grandm-mother," Mook admitted and decided to check her wet rucksack for anything useful in this situation. Her tiny spear, sling and sling stones and her water skin were the only things which seemed to be usable in wet conditions. Maybe she should keep the spear at hand now, anyway. She wasn't that good with it but if the frogs had stayed hostile, it would not have helped to carry it on her back. 

Finally, she found a small linen pouch with some hard objects in it. All things, partly magical and partly mundane, her druid grandmother had given her for several name days. Most of the magic stuff was one use, fun trinkets,  she had already used up some. Like the echo spells she had annoyed the council with at one of their recent meetings. Or the beans of bloating you added to any food to make people... well, stuff like the druidic marks on it. Her grandmother had told her to bounce any spell off it and it would make the spell last until dismissed or about an hour for each step she had taken in the initiations of her gnome clan. Unfortunately, she had only had the mind to do two of the initiation steps yet and no doubt, the pebble was meant to encourage her to be more diligent in her studies. However, grandma had mentioned a drawback, some side effects she did not want to mention the details of. "I'll kn-know, she s-said," Mook mumbled, her voice sounding spooky in the area. "M-maybe I should have t-tried it out b-before." But she had not, and she needed the light now. 

With excitement and worry at the same time, Mook attempted the only spell she thought would make sense down here. Thanks to her stutter and nervousness, it took her 3 attempts before the spell bounced off the pebble, which glowed greenish for a moment. Then 4 dancing lights appeared as expected. However, they were not the usual color but also a light green. It fit the strange atmosphere, for sure, but it also felt wrong somehow. Mook wondered if that was the drawback, but if so, it was not much of one. 

She had been taught from a young age that magic had personality, a signature, so to speak. Every spell worked a little different with every user. Her father's dancing lights, for example, had always just been two, but varied in size. Mook tried to remember if her grandmother's were green, but could not remember. More relaxed now, she let the lights flow into the room and had her first good look. 

This large chamber was partially flooded, with the south end just barely rising out of the stagnant water. A large wheel was set into the floor of the dry area, attached to chains that rose up into the ceiling. A thick layer of slick, black mold covered the carvings on the walls of this chamber.

It smelled like the fungus, too. Better not to get submerged here, this was the sort of fungus probably causing skin irritations and breathing issues when inhaled too long. The young oracle put the pebble away and went deeper into the room and the water. The ground was trickery, slippery from some sort of growth, but she wanted to check out the wheel at the end. In the stories of her childhood, such devices usually opened secret doors to unimaginable riches. She would certainly not mind being rich. 

With the lights gliding directly under the water surface, Mook was barely able to make out the floor. She did notice the two water filled pits though, flanking a bridge to the side with the wheel. Someone less good at swimming would probably have needed to secure themselves with a rope; however, Mook grew up at a pond and could swim before she could walk. With no need to hold a light source, the gnome girl just swam over, pushing the ideas of what else might be under the surface aside. There would be time to clean up later. 

The gnome always fell backwards into the water trying to regain her footing on semi-dry ground. The rucksack was all heavy with water. She wished she knew a dry spell. But she made it this far, and no more frogs or undead in sight. 

Right this moment, she could hear and feel something stirring in the water behind her. Mook froze for a moment, then she turned around to see 6 skeletons in tattered remains of clothes and gear make their way towards her. They were slow on unsteady ground, unable to swim, but they were making progress nonetheless. 

Biting her lips and fighting back a renewed panic, the girl quickly went through her pouch and the small linen bag in her backpack. While doing so, her hands found one of the healing potions they had gotten from the mayor on their start of the journey. This brought back the lessons of her grandmother. Undead could be harmed with almost all magic which healed the living. She had no idea if this was true for the potions, too, but then, trying to hit a skeleton with enough potion to do anything would be about impossible for her, anyway. But her healing magic would work. There was only one problem. She would have to touch them, and she only could get some of them, not having enough magical power left for all. And two of them wielded rusty scimitars. Those were the last ones in the irregular row of undead approaching her. A plan formed in her mind. She would need to make it past the first two, however, and that would mean trying to destroying them, or at least bring them down to their single parts for now. 

Later, Mook was not able to explain if it was mad heroism or a courage born of fear, but she dropped her backpack and lounged herself at the skeleton in the front, a good pace away from the following 5. When her hands contacted with the undead bones, she screamed out her spell and proceeded to roll into a ball before checking what it had done. The cold water engulfed her just behind her first foe, and she let herself sink under the water. Judging the position and speed of the next skeleton, she propelled herself at it with all the swimming speed her gnome body could muster and touched the bone legs of the next enemy. Casting spells under water was not new to her, and again she did not wait to see what the spell had done. Instead, she pushed on towards the left of the watery pits. 

Whirling around and coming through the surface again, she noticed the skeletons in the dim light of the dancing lights she had left at the wheel in the wall. There was no sign of the two skeletons she had touched. Thinking about it made her shiver worse than the murky water. The other 4 had stopped and now shuffled back towards her as slow as before. 

The gnome was out of breath. She was a fast swimmer on short distances only. Repeating her stunt with any of the others, especially those with the scimitars, would prove too dangerous. Instead, she swam back towards the moldy wall, hoping to draw them to her. From what she remembered, those abominations were likely to just follow their one need to harm the living and not particularly watch where they were going. 

Her plan worked well enough. The two with the scimitars were now closest to her and the first to lose their footing where the pit started. Immediately, they sank to the murky depths of the room, weapons still clutched into bony hands. One other went over the edge of the bridge and began to sink when the last one suddenly stopped. 

Mook had no intention to wait here long, who knew what else was lurking in the water. The element of surprise was gone; although she had no idea how much this thing in front of her actually understood of its surroundings. Taking a deep breath, the gnome went under water again, attempting to swim in a wide berth over the bridge to the other pit. She had to come up for breath short of her destination, for a moment gaining footage on the slippery bridge. The skeleton had turned around and was still following her. Again, she went under the surface, swimming close to the wall of the pit on the bridge side. It was hard to see anything despite her low light vision; the dancing lights only reflecting vaguely off the water surface and not reaching below. But she could see the undead thing bowing down to look for her. One of its feet was just a hand off her face. 

With a quick grab, she held on to the thing's leg bone and rushed out her healing spell again, almost out of breath now. The skeleton crumbled around her, smoking bones dropping into the pit and onto the bridge. Pushing away the need to vomit, Mook heaved herself into the bridge and on her shaky legs and staggered back to the wheel and her backpack. Exhausted, she dropped to the ground, wishing herself dry of the dirty water and rid of the memory of what she had just done. If she could avoid it, she would not swim through that again – but that left only the large wheel and what it would open. 

After what seem3ed like ages,. She had caught her breath again and stood up to face this next obstacle. The large wheel was actually set in the floor directly in front of the wall. Getting a hold on it, Mook checked to see which way it would turn. Clockwise, as it seemed, but the thing was somewhat rusty and jammed. Again taking deep breaths, the gnome put both hands on the wheel and pushed from the left. With a sickening screech, the contraption started to move, very slow first but then slightly faster. Finally, there was some resistance and Mook could push it no further. 

Looking around, the gnome was badly disappointed. No other door had opened, not had anything else happened. "M-my luck, this thing is b-broken," she mumbled. There would be no helping it; she would have to go back the way she came. Maybe that was for the best, as she now remembered she was short one animal companion and a whole handful of friends.


----------



## Lwaxy (Nov 28, 2011)

Said friends were currently arguing about Zaza squeezing into the next room or not. Her brother and the paladin were vehemently against it. A lot of things could be waiting in that room, and it would be even worse if she was attacked while still trying to get through. The bard and Zaza wanted to try it – Teltz because he saw the need for it and had enough experiences in dungeons to see that there was relatively little risk, and Zaza because she wanted to be useful for a change. Samin didn't know what to think and made the situation somewhat worse when he had to pee and picked a corner of the room for it. All eyes were suddenly on him, and just to distract from what he had just done, he nodded to Zaza. "Let her do it, we can always pull her out again." 

With a determined grin, Zaza immediately got to it before anyone else could get a word in. Carefully, she twisted her body to be able to pass the portcullis and initially made good progress. 

"Why is Mook not back yet?" Samin suddenly asked. "Haven't heard a sound from Dadawin in a while, either." 

"I guess they went out," Cajun mused. "Mook's furry friend never likes it underground, and she was pretty well scared." 

As if on cue, they could hear the scared whimper of the wolf somewhere back at the crossroad room. Zaza, who was half though the obstacle, flinched at the sound and promptly got her shirt stuck at a sharp nail. A tearing noise, and her left shoulder was free of clothing but instead had an ugly red scratch. Trying to ignore the burn and hoping there were no poisons or anything on that nail, she tried to move on, but her shirt was still stuck. It didn't appeal to her to rip the shirt of completely and stand in the damp cold half naked – not only because the others were all male. 

No one had noticed her plight, as Teltz and his son had just gone back around the corner to check what was with the wolf, and Cajun, hammer in hand, followed them when he noticed what they were doing. Bjön sighed, knowing very well that no undead were close that way – his amulet would have shown him – stared at the cursed pool that had caused Mook to run off and was digging around in his magical rucksack. Zaza could barely see him the way she was stuck. It looked like he was taking out a powder of sorts, spreading it over the water while mumbling something. A prayer, probably. While the dwarf was busy, she went a bit backwards, managing to free her shirt. Relieved, she moved ahead again when she suddenly remembered it might not be such a good idea to do that while no one was protecting her in case something was indeed on the other side. "Hey, Bjön," she called. "Mind to keep an eye on the other room while no one else is here?"

"Ah, sorry about that." The young man looked worried as he returned to her site. "Just wanted to use some divine essence on that pool. My last, too, but it seemed to dangerous to leave it like that. You tore your shirt," he added the obvious.

"Yeah, well, that I did." She was glad he couldn't see her rolling her eyes. "What's going on out there?" Wiggling through a little further, she heard footsteps, including that of an animal. The wolf was whining and yelping, and Samin and Cajun tried to calm the poor thing down. 

"The weirdest thing," Rodawin explained. "I can't really read his mind but I am getting emotions from him, strange pictures. As if he was somewhere where it was really cold and windy, and an orc forced him to fight." He paused for a second. "It sounds like Dadawin has been summoned somewhere. Imagine that."

"Huh? I always thought you would not remember being summoned. The idea of probably dying a terrible death for someone and remembering it..." Cajun shook his head. "Bad enough creatures get enslaved that way." 

"Are you part of the anti-summoning movement now?" Samin mocked. "You'd not say that if you would need the assistance. And I don't think you usually remember." 

"Not usually, no," Teltz mused. "But it can happen." The way he said it it sounded like he was speaking from experience." 

"I hate to interrupt your discussion," Zaza grumbled. "But could you probably push me a little? I don't want to hurt a tendon if not needed."

Cajun turned to see his sister stuck in a weird position. She could probably really do it alone, but he didn't want to see her hurt. He went over to her and had a better look. "Push where, exactly? Your, eh, fanny?"

"Just push," she snarled. The space to get through was really tiny and she was getting cramps in her back. 

"Alright, alright,." With a last look at the other room, Cajun pushed. A low, squeaky noise came from the portcullis. Cajun hesitated, then pushed again. After a moment, with Zaza now having one leg one either side of the contraption, the sound could be heard again. Cajun stopped, having a good look at the portcullis. "What was that sound?"

"Hell if I know, brother. All I know is I want out of here. Like, now."

"Yeah yeah, here, now.." Cajun wanted to push again when the squeak sounded again, louder now. The portcullis started to vibrate and then it slowly lifted, slow at first but quicker by the second. Cries of surprise and fear mixed into the sound of the old mechanism going up and taking the stuck Zaza with it. Thanks to being almost through, she now dangled with her head down on the other side and her behind and legs up on the side she went in. 

"I don't think this has enough power to hurt her," Taltz said, assessing speed and age of the mechanism. "It will probably just get stuck."

"Whatever," Zaza protested loudly, her voice close to a full panic. "Get me out!" 

Teltz theory proved right. When Zaza's body stopped the portcullis from going completely in, the mechanism came to a halt with a shudder. Everyone was staring at the upside down stuck halfling. The halfling in turn stared down at them from her weird perspective. 

Dadawin yowled and shook them awake. "Take care of this, I'll go and find Mook," the bard said with only a slight hint of amusement in his voice. Gently, he grabbed the wolf by his simple gear and shoved him out to the first room with tombs. "Go find your master," he whispered. 

"Right so, if we, like, oh, I don't know, me stand here and steady my sister and you push her through?" Cajun asked hopefully. 

The Dwarf shot him a weird look. "I'm not exactly big enough to reach up there and push."

"Right, so, what about, you come here and try catch her while I push?"

"Would you two bad excuses for court jesters listen to me for a second?" Zaza interrupted them as it became clear they had no clue what to do. "If one of you would be so kind as to pull the lever to let me back down..?"

"Lever?" Cajun asked, confused. 

"Yeah you know, the lever that was the reason for my squeezing through in the first place?" At times, Zaza wondered how men were able to find their own behinds. 

"That... is a good idea," the paladin admitted. He quickly went to do so, only slightly blushing of embarrassment. Nothing happened though. Before Zaza could yell at him, Bjön pushed the lever back to its original position, and his moment of clarity was rewarded with the sound of the portcullis crashing down again. 

It was Zaza's luck that her brother had been standing there to make sure she didn't hit her head. "Next time, tell us what you are doing exactly," he growled. 

Zaza got up and moved over to the lever again, pushing it and thus the portcullis up again like she originally planned to do. The frown on her face made her look a lot older. 

Samin had watched the whole chaos with disbelief. "I wonder who or what caused it to go up in the first place," he wondered. 

"Yeah, same here, but as long as we are staying on the side with the lever, we can always get out, at least I hope so." Cajun knocked on the metal. "I still have some acid to burn through it, unless it is somewhat magically fortified."

"Unlikely." Samin didn't bother to check. Instead, he lifted the sunrod he had been holding since a while over his head to see the room better. That was when all hell seemed to break loose. 

A shrieking swarm of wings and fur descended on them; a lot of tiny claws and teeth hacking and biting at them in the panic caused by the bright light – bright to bats, anyway. 

"Not again," Samin yelled and dropped to the floor. Anything like bats, rats, mice, insects, well, anything which could get at him quickly, harmless as it might be, was likely to cause a panic attack, and after a nasty encounter with bats and their droppings when he had been persuaded to do a midnight walk through a local cave last year he was particularly worried about bats. 

Cajun growled and pressed himself against a wall, kicking the sunron Samin had dropped out of his area. "Just stay calm, bats are harmless, they only attack when they panic, if at all."

The paladin, uncaring as the bats couldn't bother him that much in his armor, shook his head. Zaza was keeping to the wall next to the door, too, waiting for the fuzz to end – which it did a few minutes later with the bats retreating through a large fissure in the ceiling. "I'm sure they were not supposed to be here," she mumbled. 

Cajun nudged Samin to get up. "They are gone, you baby. Really, you could show a bit more sense of adventure." 

"Adventure yourself," Samin whispered as he got up. "It was all fine as long as it was a growing up ritual, but now it is serious."

"So that is why you learn spells, to stay out of the way of anything that's serious?" the paladin asked, looking directly at the young man.

"Hey, I'm a scholar, not a spelunker. Only a fool goes where he does not belong," Samin snapped, checking over his numerous scratches. "I'm fine, thanks for asking." He picked up the sunrod again and managed to look quite insulted. 

Zaza was meanwhile exploring the rest of the chamber, which had a number of recesses carved into the walls and the graves of some of those slain in battle in this place so long ago. "Nothing here, I guess. Now we should wait for the others."

They didn't have to wait long. Teltz returned with a happy wolf and a very wet Mook, who looked satisfied with herself and disappointed at the same time. She quickly explained where she had been, and until she mentioned the turning of the wheel, her friends looked at her in awe for defeating the skeletons so cleverly. Then she suddenly felt the stares of Mook and Cajun. "W-what?" she wanted to know.

"So, you turn a wheel without having any idea what it does," Cajun recapped. "And when it does seem to do nothing you just shrugg it off."

"Not taking into account it could probably do something elsewhere," Mook scolded. "It opened this portcullis – with me halfway through it. I was hanging upside down. In a crypt full of undead. Because of you turning a wheel."

"We can't be sure that's what caused it," Samin tried to interject, but the other two didn't give in and, in between telling what happened with the door, berated Mook. 

Mook started to chuckle, the situation down here wanting to break out in any show of emotion. Samin's father touched her shoulder, and only Samin was able to see him moving his lips in a whisper before he spoke out loud. "Let's move on, we need to be done with this." Or die trying, he thought, but he didn't dare to say that aloud. Asides, he was sure he had seen worse.


----------



## Lwaxy (Nov 29, 2011)

At this part of the story (between the last part and this the food came and we had quite some wine with it) none of us was quite sober anymore. It didn't really matter though, as the not-so-heroes got what they wanted. Kinda.

-----------------------------------



Out of the room through the north east exit, then following the corridor around a right corner, they were soon facing yet another door. This one was closed, and Zaza and Teltz took a while to make sure there were no traps, much to the dismay of the others. "It is just a door," Cajun kept complaining about the hold up. 

Finally, Teltz allowed them through, which caused Bjön to rush past them, following the amulet's increasing glow. The bard shrugged. "Paladins," he sighed, so that only the others could hear. 

The vaulted ceiling of this vast chamber showed significant signs of damage, with numerous cracks along its surface. In the center of the room, a 10-foot-wide bridge crossed a deep chasm. On the other side, a pair of stone statues watched over the end of the bridge in front of a set of grand brass double doors. The statues depicted villagers holding shields and spears.

"I still say it is a waste of work power and money to build so much – underground, at that – for a few dead people. The murals and all could have been placed in a museum," Cajun stated. 

Zaza was already sneaking around in the room, doing what she could do best – scout out how to do or avoid mischief. At the bridge, she cursed. "Another of those pressure plates here," she said. "Probably going to drop us into the pits when we step on it." 

"Can we get around?" Samin carefully followed but made sure to stay a god bit behind her. 

"Very carefully, around the edges, maybe, at least your dad, Mook and me. I doubt the paladin could make it." She gave an apologetic smile to Bjön in his armor. "Armor can be so much of a hindrance unless in battle." 

"What about me?" Cajun asked, but immediately knew the answer. He wasn't that agile, he used to fall off almost any tree over any creek when they were out in the woods in summer. 

Zaza didn't even answer. "We'd need to tie a rope around each one crossing, and then it is not sure we won't fall and accidentally activate it." 

"Why not activate it to begin with – throw something on again?" Samin wondered. "That way, we'll at least know where exactly to step when the floor falls away." 

"Not that bad an idea," the paladin nodded. "Maybe the first one over can tie a rope to one of those statues. One of you arcane types have any spell to fly or levitate over?"

Samin shook his head in regret. "I used my fly spell earlier, and my hawk would need to be close for me to be able to do it, anyway."

"What could we throw on, though? There is not enough rubble here," Bjön mused, checking the room. "We certainly can't spare any more gear."

"Can't we jam it? Maybe I can dissolve the whole plate and the mechanism with my acids. No mechanism, no opened pit of doom." Cajun went through all his vials he kept carrying around most of the time to check their details. 

"It's a stone plate so I don't think acid would do us any good." Zaza looked across the bridge and back at the trap. "It might not even cause the bridge to open up. Maybe it does something totally different."

"Which would still not be something enjoyable, I'm sure." Samin's father was now standing next to Zaza to have a look. 

"Maybe I could throw you over," Cajun suggested to Zaza. "I've thrown you farther before."

"Yes, on soft ground. I don't want to break anything hitting a stone floor. Not so worried about me now, huh?"

Cajun blushed, despite knowing his sister was half joking. "Well, I'm out of ideas then."

"Dadawin could j-jump over," Mook offered. "I just don't th-think he c-could tie a r-rope anywhere. And he won't make it with me riding him" 

From somewhere ahead of them, soft crying could be heard. They looked at each other, racking their brains for a solution to this problem. It seemed simple enough, and yet they felt stuck. 

Suddenly Samin spoke up. "If your wolf jumps over with a rope tied to the harness, then he can pull the rope from the other site and we'll hold it from here, so you and Mook can move over, you are good enough with that stuff. Then you help the wolf and then Bjön and Cajun walk over, they are heaviest and need support from both ends. After them, I'll follow Then we send Dadawin back with the rope and dad can come over and then..."

Teltz' face brightened. "Son, that's genius, that can work." 

And it did. Exept from a bit of chaos about went when and Cajun having serious troubles not stepping onto the plate, they all got across fine. While Zaza gathered the rope and Mook cuddled the wolf, Teltz pointed to the ground. "There are bones here."

Cajun blinked. "Yeah, well, it is a crypt, after all." 

"No, I mean, bones here. On the ground. They look like they have been smashed, and much like the bloody skeletons we saw earlier."

"Not good." Bjön quickly came closer and sprinkled the remains with holy water, just to be sure. 

"Good thinking, but who placed them here?" Something must have attacked them and it sure wasn't the people from Kassen,they never made it here. And it can't have been too long ago. How long, do you reckon, do they need t, well, reform?" Teltz asked Bjön. 

"I am not sure. About an hour, I think, maybe double that."

"Right. I sure don't wanna be caught by whatever took them apart. Let's be very careful!" 

The brass doors leading to what they hoped would be the final room must have recently been opened. Dust and a dead rat had been pushed aside by them, and there was a barely recognizable footprint of a rather large boot. "I'm going in," the paladin said, breathing heavily while grasping his amulet. 

"You haven't done this alone before, am I right?" The bard knew he was, but he needed the young man – not much older than his own son, he reckoned – to feel confident. When the dwarf shook his head, Taltz motioned to everyone. "And you won't go alone now. You'll go in first, we'll be right behind you."

"We don't even know if we found the heart of the matter yet," Cajun mumbled. But by the glow of the paladin's amulet, they all knew they were very close. 

Bjön pulled the handle. The wide brass doors swung open on silent hinges to reveal a vast crypt. The only light emanated from a torch mounted above the crypt, flickering with a pale golden fire. Tall pillars
marched across the chamber, ending at a dais on the far side, on which was set a large stone sarcophagus. A single form rested beside the coffin, that of a comely woman in tattered clothing. She appeared to be asleep or unconscious.

"The Everflame," Zaza concluded. "Finally."

Kassen's tomb was open and the lid was lying close to it. A dry, mirthless laugh was heard from the dark recesses of the tomb. 

"Ah, here w-we g-go," Mook growled in a foul mood, still wet, if not dripping anymore. "J-just l-like the o-old stories. The v-villain a-always makes a b-b-big show and fills old r-rooms with evil l-laughter." She seemed to have lost all fear or respect of whatever undead was lurking within here. 

"Yeah," Cajun added, doing a good job to mask his fear. But his hand gripped his hammer tighter. "Let's see if whoever it is now goes on about perfect plans of world domination."

“So, Kassen’s heroes have come to fight me again. You will make fine minions in my army of the dead. Come and meet your fate.” With that, a wicked-looking skeleton strode into view, wearing polished mail and brandishing a cruel sword in both hands. A cold blue flame burned in its empty eye sockets. It really looked like something out of the winter evening stories. Just a lot more fearsome. The thing was wearing some sort of fancy hat and bracers, and tattered robed were floating around it. 

"Not fit for a fancy dress contest," Zaza said with only a slightly shaking voice. 

"I think it is your fate that will be sealed." The voice of the young paladin was steady and confident. "You couldn't even touch me, you are just a skeleton." 

"Who are you, anyway? Or rather, who were you?" Samin racked his brain for an answer to the undead infestation. 

"I think I know," his father spoke up. "That's the foe Kassen defeated, what was his name again?" Teltz had not forgotten, but an angry foe was a less dangerous foe, undead or not. 

"The robber with his gang of cutthroats, right," Samin remembered and quickly getting what his dad was trying to do. 

"I am Asar Vergas, rightful owner of the riches Ekat Kassen stole from me. I am no robber!" The large skeleton came towards them, and now schemes were moving in the shadows of the crypt, trying to circle the party. "And this time, Kassen's heroes will fall!" 

"Kassen's heroes?" Zaza took an involuntary step closer to Bjön. "We are nobody's heroes. Kassen is dead. We are just here to get the light of the Everflame – you know, tradition and all that."

Behind her, Cajun started to laugh, only chuckling at first and then bursting out into full laughter. "Asar?" he asked between gasps. "That's really your name?" He didn't know all that much of his unknown father's language, but he knew as much. "Asar," he explained, "means ass in Orcish, and I don't mean no donkey."

"4 skeletons," Samin declared, having paid more attention to the closing in minions of this wannabe evil ruler. "Could be worse." 

Bjön was slightly confused, as it appeared, by this exchange of words. It was clear that he was expecting some sort of heroic showdown. Things weren't developing the way he had planned at all. So his mind focused on the minor skeletons advancing. "Could you do that slippery spell again?" he asked Teltz. 

"Yeah," the bard nodded. "You may wanna pick them off one by one." He bumped his elbow into the ribs of the still chuckling alchemist. "Help him!" With a few words, the spell was cast and the skeletons were falling down faster than the zombies did. 

"You dare make fun of me?" Vergas' skeleton form stopped dead, and the blue light in his eye sockets flickered. "Me, who was the real force behind the fortune Kassen made? I will obliterate your town with..."

"Yeah, yeah," Mook interrupted in a loud voice. "Look, man, you are a d-d-darned sk-skeleton now. All undead b-bones, no m-meat. So -you want s-some sort of r-revenge, but w-what for and w-who from? K-k-kassen is d-dead and u-unlike you he didn't th-think t-to just show up again in a stinky f-form." She frowned. "Wh-what woke you, a-anyway? A-and where have you b-b-been b-between your, well, d-different ff-orms of existence? Wh-what's the m-meaning of life and d-death? Is th-there really a p-point to any o-of this?"

"Kassen, he is a coward! He was woken by the theft as well, but he stays hidden, of course. He..." 

"Theft?" Zaza interrupted.

CLONK! The sound of a skeleton being hacked apart. 

"The plunderers your town sent..." 

"Plunderers?" Samin fell in. "To this crypt? Why would we plunder or own hero's crypt? Only a brainless skeleton could get that idea."

Vergas stopped and let his menacingly glinting sword drop low. "I assumed..."

"You assumed," Cajun said from the shadows with a chuckle. "Never assume, makes an asar out of you and me, you know?"

CLONK! The sound of a skeleton being reduced to pieces. 

"The crypt was robbed, certainly not by us. Sorry it woke you but we can fix that. Can't you just go back to wherever you were before?" Samin was curious. "And yeah, where was that again? Were you in your god's realm or...?"

"ENOUGH!" The sword came up again and the skeleton jumped towards Samin. "I'll get my victory this time." 

Samin ducked out of the way, partly horrified and partly annoyed. "Victory? We aren't even battling you, what kind of victory is that? No brain or not, you must see that you are talking nonsense." Frantically, Samin attempted to stay right in the back on the skeleton. 

"And you get the wrong people, too," Teltz stepped into the skeleton's view to make it leave his son alone. "We didn't rob the crypt and aren't any heroes of anyone, so you are behaving irrationally. Well, should be expected, coming back from the dead to be like this must be mind addling." Carefully staying out of the sword's reach, Teltz danced backwards towards the Everflame, Asar following him.

CLONK! The sound of a skeleton getting disjointed. 

"A-and if you g-get what y-you want, then wh-what?" Mook asked, now holding her spear in hand just in case. Not that there was anything to stab it into. "I m-mean you are no longer l-living, s-so what g-good does any money or p-power do you?"

"Yeah, no wine, no women, no food... maybe song, although I am not sure how you could enjoy music without ears – hey, how do you see and hear anyway?" Teltz had no trouble staying out of the reach of Kassen's enemy.

"So some of the robbers," Zaza tried to bring the topic back to what interested her, "were quite zombified and awfully stinky last we got rid of them. You didn't get them all, right? Any idea where they did come from or planned to go? So we could try get the stuff they stole back – or them at least?" 

From his point, Teltz could see that Kassen's body was still in his sarcophagus. "At least this one's quite dead, still." 

"I don't think the hero of our town would do us any harm." Somehow, the halfling's voice sounded a tad sarcastic. 

"He is no hero, he is a thief." Asar stopped going after the bard and turned in a circle, holding his sword out so no one could come near. "He stole my part of the loot we got when we were traveling together." 

"Loot, as in, plundering crypts and dungeons? Stealing a dragon's heard earned hoard?" Samin offered, slightly out of breath. 

CLONK! The sound of a skeleton doing what the skeletons before it already did. 

"What? No, that was not what we... yeah, sometimes," Asar admitted. "Only from tainted locations, though."

"Tainted locations like this one now? You are aware what you are doing now isn't good in anyone's book, or even neutral. Undeads are an abomination to nature." That was Bjön, being dead serious. "You emanate an aura so evil my amulet picked it up a few miles from here." He pointed the the unconscious girl. "And you kill and abduct people." 

"See, if you want to make it known Kassen wasn't all that much of a hero, give us the details and we'll tell the story." The bard peered into Kassen's sarcophagus again, eying the longsword the corpse held. "But you are much better off dead than undead." 

"Not that much of a hero? Hah, he was last in and first out in every encounter, and..."

A blueish ghost with a short beard and long flowing robes appeared. "I assure you I was not! Asar is just a jealous man feeling under-appreciated because he didn't even use his brain much when he still had one." 

"Kassen, I assume?" Teltz sighed. 

"The very same," the ghost bowed while the skeleton's eyes flared up and sent tiny sparks of light flying. 

"Erm, why don't we let you two talk it out, take the girl and the flame and go?" Cajun suggested hopefully. 

"Hah, Kassen doesn't fight alone, he always needs someone else to get the hot potatoes out of the oven for him..."

The amulet around the paladin's neck flickered. Irritated, Bjön stared at it and then back at the spirit – technically rather a manifestation than an undead, or so he had been taught – and the skeleton. "What is happening here?"

Teltz took a few quick steps towards the girl and checked her over. From his pouch, he produced a few herbs and put one leaf under her tongue and another under her nose. Her breathing became more stable and her pulse was better, but she didn't quite wake up yet. He would have to carry her. He was about to call out for help from Samin when he found his son wasn't in view anymore. Neither was Zaza.

With the minor skeletons gone and Kassen appearing, Samin had seen it fit to follow an urge he had had since entering these final rooms. Followed by Zaza, who had learned to trust the weird instincts – for a magi type – of her friend, they moved over to one of the adjacent rooms into what looked like the crypt of Asar's former men. The central sarcophagus had been disturbed, its lid lay broken on the ground in front of it. The corpse of a masked man was beside it.

Samin was quickly going over to the body, trying to ignore the stench. "Looks and smells awful," he commented. Picking up a map that had fallen out of the tattered grey robes, he motioned for Zaza to help him. 

"Ew, I  hope it's worth it. More than the tiny magic crystals and bits of gold you usually find." Zaza tried to not look at the iron mask or anything else as she nimbly went into the pockets and the ripped open backpack of the dead guy. "A wand, a horn, spellbook... oh and money. New gold coins! Don't tell the paladin," she smirked. 

"We can count that later. Anything else?" 

"Nah, but that's quite something. Let's get out of the smell and see if the others are done with the two... whatever they are." 

"You know, while we are at it, remember this?" Samin held up the key they had retrieved from the water earlier. "We haven't found out what to do with it yet." 

"Maybe ask the girl? She must know because if they have not placed it, it would long be gone, no?" Zaza went ahead and peeked back into the main room, where Samin's father was dragging the sister of the madman upstairs towards the brass doors. 

The dwarf was standing between the two awoken beings, and it looked like he was trying to negotiate some sort of agreement. Cajun was sneaking up to the Everflame and light it. 

All of a sudden, the skeleton frame of Kassen's adversary, murderer of the townsfolk, collapsed among his attire, sword and strange hat toppling to the floor. Bjön jumped backwards and bumped into the half-orc who was returning with the lit lantern of the Everflame. 

Kassen's spirit let out a benevolent laugh. "Thank you for your help in this matter. I am sorry people had to die. For your future undertakings, I have some things for you to assist."

Future undertakings? Zaza's ears perked up. Bjön, she noticed, looked somewhat disappointed and almost cross-eyed. She could not see why; if with the help of Kassen or without, he had been able to rid the world of an undead abomination. 

"What things?" Cajun asked, eager to get his hands on anything helping him in smithcraft or with his alchemy studies. 

Kassen reached around himself – well, his body, anyway, - and somehow, despite being incorporal, managed to produce a set of things before fading from view with a bright smile. "The scales of my armor will help you in your greatest need," he whispered as he disappeared. 

"Oh r-really?" Mook's voice sounded somewhat bitter. "What else is there?"

"A bashing shield, an elemental Gem..." Samin, taking stock of it all, let the latter, together with the loot from the guy in the next room, vanish into the last things they had gotten. "... and a bag of holding." Mook had quickly grabbed the shield, she had planned on getting one of these for a while, very helpful when fighting with a spear. 

"Where'd you get that from?" Teltz, just getting back from making the still unconscious girl comfortable at the exit, stared at the pilfered goods. 

"Next room, weird guy with an iron mask killed by the undead," Zaza explained. "Your son's got a knack, as usual, for finding the valuables." 

"As if you d-didn't." Mook grinned, counting the scales. "One m-more than we are." Without asking if the other might have been meant for the girl at the door she tied it around Dadawin's neck. "He's part o-of us too," she said. 

They all took a scale and then turned to leave. The reality of it all had not quite dawned on them, it appeared to Teltz, as Samin and Zaza involved Mook and Cajun in a plan to try out the key they found earlier at the door they had left unchecked upstairs. 

When they reached the door, the girl, Dimira, was finally waking up, eyes wide in fear and all confused. "It's all Cajun tried to assure her. "The ass is gone, and your brother is waiting for you upstairs." 

The reaction of the girl was one of disbelief and joy – what was to be expected. What was not expected was that she would jump up and run out across the bridge over the pit. ""Wait there is a..." Zaza started. With a click, the mechanism engaged. "...pressure plate," the halfling replied, expecting something bad to happen to the just rescued girl.


----------



## Lwaxy (Nov 30, 2011)

No trap door opened up under Dimira. Instead, the 2 statues to the left and right of the brass doors began to move. Their heads turned with a screeching sound towards the bridge and for a moment it looked as if they were to attack in some way. But then they returned to their original positions. 

"Interesting," Samin muttered, checking the statues from all sides. "They must be made so they do not attack anyone leaving. Guess we now know what took the skeletons out here apart." 

"W-whatever."Mook followed Dimira oh her wolf, now that she knew the way back she was eager to get out as quickly as possible, and she didn't like walking in wet clothes. 

Zamin and Zaza insisted on checking out the last room upstairs while Cajun went with Teltz to get Dimira's half insane brother. Dimira had explained about the wood golem and the key they found needed to be inserted into its back to turn it off. Not a problem if you knew what to look for. The equipment the townspeople had stored here for them earlier were gathered – they had earned it after all – and not too soon after, everyone was out of the crypt in the early hours of evening. 

A loud screech and a wicker greeted them. Wilbur the hawk and Bjön's horse were happy enough to see their masters back. The dead horses out here had been mostly eaten by scavengers, but even without the stench, no one wanted to camp anywhere close to the crypt. Dimira and Roldare barely stopped long enough to gather bedrolls from the entrance as they left. 

The night found them not too far up the slope, sitting around a high burning campfire, checking what they had found or been given in the crypt. The maps the bandits had and the notes attached to them were of special interest. On the one Samin and Zaza had found was “The amulets are entombed with Kassen and Asar." They already knew what amulets it referred to. Both Kassen and his long time enemy and former friend had described them in detail. They had been called back from the dead when the robbers stole them from around the corpses' necks. 

This seemed significant, as it meant someone else knew about the crypt and its contents, and the amulets alone could not have justified sending a bunch of men risking to wake the dead. The other note was a tattered handbill inviting anyone interested to meet at a place called "The Ranger's Lament." Teltz explained that this was a popular place in Tamran, the capital of the country. It could mean anything or nothing. 

"That bandit with the mask sure was strange," Zaza commented when they discussed the possibilities to prevent the crypt or worse, the town being attacked by bandits in the future. "Why would anyone want to wear an iron mask in a crypt?"

"Iron mask?" Bjön frowned. "Sounds familiar. Did he somewhat look like a priest?"

"He was pretty much busy decomposing, I didn't much look at him," Zaza snorted. 

"Could have been a follower of Razmir," the paladin wondered. "I've heard of them showing stronger presence in Tamran now. Lots of people are giving them credit for feeding and protecting the poor and all that, but I don't know. I am weary of cults keeping too many secrets."

"Talking of secrets, what's yours?" Cajun wanted to know. "You all of a sudden show up here with that amulet of yours hunting for the undead, right? How come? Where did you come from?"

"My family dumped me at the door or a city orphanage when they found out I was night blind. Not much good for doing anything underground, they must have thought, and didn't want to move upside. The paladin running the orphanage saw my potential and my faith and made sure I got a good start myself at being one. That's pretty much my life in a nutshell." Bjön grinned while clearing the last soup out of his plate. "The order I belong to, we are all asked to pick a purpose, and I happened to come upon someone dying who gave my his amulet to continue his work to destroy the undead . At least the evil ones among them, which is at least 90& of them. The Amulet gives me dreams where to go to. So here I am. That's my purpose in a nutshell, too." 

For a moment, it seemed that was all the dwarf had to say. "I'm also a Pathfinder," he suddenly continued. "And how that came to be is a quite long story, but the essence of it is, I helped her out when she needed it most and their work has always fascinated me so she made sure I was a part of it, That's it..." 

"...in a nutshell," Cajun grinned, and Bjön grinned back. The two of them definitely got along well. 

Late next morning saw them on their way back to Kassen. They would arrive late at night, with them having had a late start and only one horse. There was not much talk, the happenings were weighing deeply on everyone but Bjön and Teltz as it seemed. And Samin's father was deeply in thought about something, reacting absentminded when talked to, if he reacted at all. 

When they finally arrived in Kassen, they found a celebration underway in their honor. Mayor Uptal was there to greet them at the gates, but his joy at their return quickly turned to horror as he was told  what had happened. The news quickly spreads throughout town and the harvest celebration turned to mourning. Bjön's presence was, however, heralded as a positive sign. 

After than night, things seemed to be slowly returning to normal, except that the 4 younglings and Samin's dad, could be seen hanging out around the paladin a lot. There were also meetings between Bjön, Teltz and Mayor Uptal. Cajun, Samin and the girls were wondering what they were about, as neither the dwarf nor the bard would talk. 

Samin used the chance to learn the new spells from the spell book he had found, not mentioning its existence to the local wizard he was, in theory, apprenticed to. The only way to learn was to be sneaky and get into the old mans spellbook anyway, so hardly anyone knew what spells Samin could do but his friends. 

4 days after they had returned, a group of masons and clerics set out to bury the villagers, clear out any possible remaining undead and repair the crypt, if possible. As the trail of people crossed the bridge to head out of the northern gate, a lone stranger came riding in while the young hero wannabes were watching their townfolk leave. Something was strange about the hunched figure, and it was not only that Kassen's citizens were generally careful about strangers at first. Samin felt an immediate fear he could not explain to himself, and Mook – who wasn't actually finish, just sitting there in her gnomy winter clothes watching the others while leaning on Dadawin – seemed to freeze for a moment. A clear sign that her oracle sense had picked up on something. 

Cajun just frowned. "Weird person, can't even see if it is a man or a woman. Won't make many friends dressed like that." 

"Nice horse," Zaza said in an amused voice. The mount looked like it had not had enough food in years, although from the swing of its step, it could not be that old. The neck was too long for the halfling's taste – who was quite good at riding even the largest horses – and the ears were longer than they should have been, too. If the offspring of horses and donkeys would be able to breed, she would have guessed at a donkey in the horse's lineage. 

The rider didn't even notice them as he or she vanished into the main part of Kassen. Zaza and Cajun quickly went back to fishing, but Samin, while staying with them, had a feeling his time in this place was up. His father's warnings from when he was a small boy were as fresh in his mind as ever. As he turned around, Mooks eyes met his, and he knew she was aware of it, too. Wilbur screeched in the sky as if to echo their feelings. 




Rodawin Teltz was just about telling the mayor, who he considered a friend even long before he had come to this place, that he would not accept the task Uptal was trying to shove off on him and the young people. The paladin could probably very well do it alone, having connections and all, and if anyone from town would have to go with them it would probably have to be someone from the guard. With all that was in his past – and thus his son's – he did not want to risk roaming around and playing the heroes and thus attracting unwanted attention. Far from it. 

He turned to look out of the window of the mayor's house next to the river to check on the friends on the docks, his eyes caught a glimpse of the rider crossing the bridge, and while he could see the person even less clearly, he immediately felt the same sense of dread. "I think you are right," he immediately shifted his attitude. "It would do them good to leave town and do something useful for once. Isn't Cajun about done with his apprenticeship with the smith and could go on the road? Not that it is often done around here but in his case..." 

Uptal nodded in agreement. "And her mother recently mentioned that Mook needs to do the next part of her initiation, which includes what they call The Walkaround. Supposedly it can last several months. Mook would not go out of fear of losing friends, you now how she is with all her stuttering. This seems like the perfect opportunity. And Zaza's mother would be happy enough to see Zaza trudge along, means no more worry, at least for a while, of what will become of her. Who knows, maybe the two of them could even make a living in the city."

"That settles it, then. We'll pack and leave with the paladin as soon as possible. We'll send a messenger when we've found out more." 

Uptal laughed. "No hurry, it does serve well enough if you let us know once you are back, Rodawin." The bard nodded slowly, but he was not so sure they would be coming back anytime soon, if ever.


----------



## Azkorra (Nov 30, 2011)

Haven't read the new instalment yet but I quite like your journal so far. Even though the actual adventure seems a bit lame to me (at least when compared to other 1st-level modules like, for example, The Hangman's Noose), your writing is really excellent. 

Keep up with it and don't feel discouraged by any lack of comments on this board!


----------



## Lwaxy (Nov 30, 2011)

Yeah it's a rather lame adventure compared to most others but it gave a good start for this type of adventure connections as it is the first in a small series. And it went pretty quick.


----------



## Lwaxy (Dec 7, 2011)

The lag kept me from coming here for a few days. 

Anyway, I was considering making a new thread for the follow up adventure as I can't seem to edit the title of the post. But as it is a follow up, there isn't a point to spam the board with threads. 

We got two new players who just didn't want to play the first part. Edawon Hest the halfling ranger and a surprise even the players didn't know until it happened. 

This is the second half of the session that ended the last adventure and the next one.



Their departure happened in haste and, for a reason no one but the bard and his wizarding son – and possibly Mook - understood, also in secret. Teltz had made the mayor promise to only announce their leaving the next day when they were well on the way and not to tell anyone where exactly they were heading. An errand for Kassen, that was what he was to tell anyone. No one would wonder given their recent success. 

Bjön's horse had initially been a problem. Bjön had been able to secure passage on a river barge with the name of Black Mist as he vaguely knew the captain, a dwarf named Walren. Dwarf captains were rather rare, so it was not a surprise for a paladin from Tamran to know the man. But there had been no way to take a horse, and selling the well bred and trained animal would not only ave proven to be difficult, it would also have caused questions and no doubt the stranger Teltz and Samin were worried about would have noticed something. Bjön, noticing something was up just not what, thus agreed for Mook's gnome clan to take the horse – on a big horse like that 3 or 4 of them could ride at once, which would make trading with the other gnomes around these parts a lot easier. 

The captain employed only one hand, a scarred man named Ewem. Wherever he was from his command of the common tongue was poor and so he didn't do much interaction but introducing himself.

After 6 days of travel, everyone was sick of being on a boat, even when no one but Mook missed camping in the open. The constant whistling of the captain was unnerving to Samin. Zaza was literally sick, retching all the time and avoiding food altogether by now. Bjön, having had many talks with Walren, was getting restless to get to the city, making mention of having to do some other things besides looking for the grave robbers. Cajun was relatively content to do whatever alchemists did and hardly came out of the single room they used, which happened to also be the room the freight was stored. Teltz was composing a happy tune about their weird encounter with Asar, which somewhat irked the paladin even if he didn't say anything. Samin was still going over the spellbook from the loot. He had also borrowed one of the old spellbooks from his so-called master back in Kassen. The young man had the distinct feeling they would need him to know more spells. Dadawin the wolf had taken to hunt rats with the ship's half-take forest cat and was, all considered, the happiest of the bunch. 

There was one more passenger on board, who preferred to sleep in the open. A young halfling ranger named Edawon Hest had joined them at their last shore stop 2 days ago. He didn't say much to any of them but Mook – although he might have talked to Zaza more if she wasn't busy feeding fish. Their love for nature made them bond quickly, and when the halfling heard about the grave robbers and the undead and what the group had done to get rid of them, he offered his help in finding the guilty party. As it soon turned out, for all his dislike of cities and larger settlements, he was quite street savvy, having grown up in Korvosa. 

On the evening of the 6th day, the captain decided to press on well into the night to reach the city. "No point in staying on the water," he said, "when there are real beds to have and good food without being sick all the time."  Zaza nodded in agreement, but Teltz puffed the pipe he was so fond of and watched the dwarf wearily. "You know the man better," he asked the other dwarf. "Does he seem to be anxious, or is it just me?"

Bjön nodded. "He's been getting more nervous by the hour. He says the waters here are not safe – the war and some issues with so-called faith barges coming from Razmiran.." 

"We'll keep watch, then," the bard decided. 

About an hour after dark, Edawon noticed a small sailboat coming in their direction from the open lake. He almost missed it, as a bank of clouds had Covered the moon and a trickle of rain was making watch keeping decidedly unpleasant. When he notified the captain, Walred frowned and went to get his weapons. "We'll have to deal with them – pirates, my all right, but they are considered privateers of Molthuni."

"Ack, the stupid war," the halfling cursed, just as everyone else joined them. 

"What defenses do you have?" Bjön asked, although he was pretty sure of the answer. 

"Defenses? I need all the space for wares, usually, and even if not, like now, I am not exactly skilled in the arts of fight. We  have a crossbow  is all."

Bjön grimaced. "I think they saw us, they are readying crossbows. I'd like to take them alive." There was doubt in his voice as to the possibility.  

"I Think 3 of em, capt'n," Ewem announced, loading the aforementioned crossbow. 

"What good is taking them alive for, they would be hanged anyway," Teltz growled and took cover behind some crates. "I suggest you use the horn, Bjön."

Bjön nodded and took the small horn they had found among the possessions of the grave robbers from his belt. With a mighty blow, the horn produced a sound like the fog horns of larger ships. A white cloud of fog was immediately emanating from the instrument, obscuring the area around them, effectively hiding them from the attacking crossbowmen. With a loud THUCK an arrow got stuck in the boat, and a cursing Ewem was firing back. Very quickly, firing back became pointless as Bjön sounded the horn again and the fog spread out. 

"Maybe I should use this?" Samin asked his father and help up one of the wands they had gotten form the crypt.

"I think that would be a waste of magic. We have a paladin and a wolf and Cajun," Tetz chuckled. 

What he meant with the latter became obvious a moment later when there was a sudden spark of light in the fog, and the cries of their would be attackers, who had made ready to come on board,  could be heard, albeit dampened by the fog still. The constant drizzle of rain was not enough to put out the fire their alchemist had caused, but despite their problems, the privateers retaliated. A moment later, the small sail of their barge was on fire, too. 

"Now what?" Samin hissed. "The boat will burn down if we don't put that out and we can't get up because of their arrows." 

The angry screech of a hawk could be heard, disturbed by the fire as he had been perched somewhere in the rafters. Wilbur was able to locate his master despite the fog and landed right next to him, still complaining. Samin absentmindedly stroked him and, a moment later, started sneeze violently. 

Splashing sounds came from the middle of the ship, and an angry dwarf voice could be heard cursing. "I think that answers the question and I doubt there are still any arrows to come," Teltz said and got up. The fog begun to disperse, and the first thing they saw was Dadawin with a bloody snout. The small boat of the privateers was burning beyond saving and when they saw Cajun, he had a decidedly eager smile on his face. Anything that could burn or blow up was fun for the half-orc. His clothes looked slightly singed, and he carried a small lock box under his left arm. "Found this over there," he explained. "One of them pirates wanted to make off with it into the water so i decided to take it." 

"Good thinking," Teltz nodded and fished for his pipe until he remembered it would do him little good in the rain. 

"If yer all done, whaddaya say you come help Ewem and me put up the spare sail?" the captain's voice came through the dispersing fog. "I want out of here lest there are more of those rats out here looking for prey." 

2 hours later, the city of Tamran drew near. In the dark, Tamran glitteredith hundreds of tiny lights, emanating from the windows and lamps that dot the city. It had he look of a new town, built primarily of wood, though some older buildings lingeredere and there, many showing signs of damage from the war with Molthune to the south. Cracked walls and burnt remnants could seen even from this distance, fresh scars from the long conflict.

"I'm glad I had ya with me," the captain sighed. "If yer looking for a good place to crash, I recommend the Gar's Last Meal down near the water. It's good and safe and if you need a ride back that's where to catch me, too." 

Cajun was first off the boat, eager to examine the contents of the box he had recovered. Zaza wasn't far behind, and the relief of being on solid ground was obvious in her face. "So, are we going to that inn the captain suggested?" she asked, and her stomach growled to remind everyone of her lack of food lately. 

"No," the bard decided before anyone could speak up. "I prefer off the waterline and at a place where there isn't as much fish to eat as we would for sure get around here." He ignored the knowing looks of his son and Mook, who guessed right that the real reason to be elsewhere was so there would be less chance to be found by – well, whoever it was Teltz had Samin and himself avoid. 

"I suggest we go to the Forest Bounty," Bjön spoke up. "It's where I'll most likely find the Pathfinder contact from around here. It's most likely we'll get more information about anything from him. If someone is trying to sell stuff robbed from graves, he will know who to ask about it, too."

"Sounds good to me... but that's not an inn, is it?" Cajun asked. "I heard of the place, I think, a feast hall for every day?"

"More or less. I'll know an inn close by where we can stay, so we won't have to worry about rooms. This time of year, not much trade comes in and most inns are happy enough for customers." 

Through the maze of bridges, ramps and streets at impossible angles, Bjön led them to the southern part of Tamran until, really tired and in Zaza's case also really hungry by then, they stood in front of The Weathered Rose Inn in the center of a larger market place. It was obviously a better establishment, with red and white bricks overgrown with ivy dominating, framed with dark wood. Painted lead windows decorated the place, too, depicting red roses. The wooden sign above the entrance depited a single red rose blossom, stained with age but cleaned up recently. Several flower boxes lined the windows, but in this time of year they were empty. A stable to the back of the inn looked like it would provide rather luxury boxes for horses and similar animals. 

Dampened laughter drifted through the door as someone left. "It's usually quite expensive," Bjön grinned. "But I am here often and don't have to pay after solving the little ghost infestation they had last year. And for friends of mine, the price is usually modest enough."

"Hm-hmm," Teltz grinned. To his son he whispered "It seems even paladins like their comforts." 

They approached the entrance and were greeted by an older halfling in red and white clothes fitting the building. He was obviously here to discourage undesirable customers. "Master Bjön," he smiled at the dwarf. His pronunciation of the name was a little weird, much more drawn out than necessary. "Glad to see you back in here. Master Solomon isn't in the inn," he chuckled at the meager joke, " but will be glad to see you when he returns tomorrow. You do stay a while, don't you?" 

"Quite possible," the dwarf smiled. Then he pointed to the others. "These are friends of mine. We'll all need quarters and, first, some food." 

"Alright, the wolf can come in but the hawk needs to stay outside, you understand, birds and their toilet habits..." 

Samin nodded. Wilbur wouldn't have wanted inside in any case and was already perching on one of the ornamental wood pieces over the door. 

They were quickly seated at a table close to a large stage on which a young elven woman performed lively songs. The place was filled with merchants and other traveling people but the noise was at a minimum compared to other inns. Soup was brought for everyone after it was obvious that Zaza couldn't hold much more down still, and their plans for the night didn't include long meals. 

"I'm not going anywhere," the halfling girl announced after she was done eating. "I need a bed and sleep in quiet and without nightmares. 

"M-me too," Mook confessed. "You can t-tell us l-later what you f-found out." 

Samin and Cajun looked at each other. They knew very well Mook wasn't tiring so easily, it was much more likely she would not want to leave Zaza alone in strange surroundings and, quite possibly, didn't want to show her stutter around either. But that was as well as it meant Cajun would not have to offer to be company for his sister. The half-orc burned to know what it was with the grave robbers and this strange cult they had heard about several times now. 

Hest, having been strangely quiet all this time, declared he would be going along in any case. Glancing at Mook, he waited for her to nod. Teltz barely avoided a smile. There was something going on between this halfling and the gnome, he was sure. 

The less tired of the group left soon after they had been shown to their room, the two girls getting a room with a double bed while Bjön got a double bedded room for himself. The others took a 6 bed guest room they had to share with a noble born fighter who had seen some of the war recently and now wanted some rest. The man wasn't in when they brought up their belongings. Cajun decided that even had he been able to meet the guy he would rather entrust the box from the boat to his sister. "Try to get it open if you aren't too tired," he said before they left. 

Zaza turned over the box a few times, feeling  a lot better after some food and hot tea and the prospect of resting. She also felt the need to talk to Mook, for the first time in days having some privacy. Mook, however, was much more interested in taking a bath in the little room at the end of the hall. The halfling decided to try her luck with the box instead of waiting and found it no challenge for her skills. 

Inside were some coins, including a whole of 13 platinum pieces – a type of coin Zaza had not seen in a long time. The rest was a – for her – substantial means of gold and silver, and Zaza, like in the crypt, pocketed all of it. A surviving habit learned early in life, when she had to make sure she and her usually honest-to-a-fault brother had enough means to get by when their mother was either intoxicated or gone for a while. If things would go bad, she would have something for themselves. She was beginning to realize, though, that after she saw the usual prices at this inn – which they had to pay very little of as promised -  that even with all she had saved and the additional wealth from the crypt and the box, even one person alone could not last that long in a city, not even in a ramshackle one as this so-called capital. 

There was only one other thing in the bag, the privateer's charter signed by the governor of Molthun. It might be worth a little to the right people. When Mook reentered the room she showed the paper to her. "L-let your b-b-brother t-take it t-to the guards," Mook said. "He found it, after all, and maybe there is a little reward for it." 

Zaza nodded, then  headed off to take a bath as well. An hour later, still well before midnight, Zaza and Mook were sound asleep with the wolf lying next to their bed  keeping a half asleep watch. 



Meanwhile, the others arrived at the Forest Bounty on the northern edge of the town. It had been quite a walk, and Samin was tired as well by now, not cherishing the idea to have to walk all the way back. He wished they would not be quartered in the south end. 

Made from enormous timbers, the Forest Bounty was a long hall, open at both the front and back, filled with wooden tables and benches. Dozens of people gathered here, eating, drinking, and laughing. One table of patrons even carried on with a bawdy song that seemed to have most of the folk smiling.

Upon a question from Bjön, a serving maid near the door pointed to a nearly empty table in the back. Bjön promptly made his way through the crowd, expecting the others to follow him. 

At the table sat a robust man, wearing green and brown leathers and cloaked in a large bearskin. A longbow rested against the table next to him. He looked up and with a hearty laugh greeted Bjön. 

“Welcome, and your friends as well. I am Reginar Lacklan. Please sit – if you are looking for me I am sure we have much to discuss.” He swept out his arms in an inviting gesture as a serving maid placed a tray of roast boar and forest vegetables on the table before him.

The ever hungry Cajun and Edawon were digging right into the food again while Bjön introduced them. Then the paladin quickly explained the matter at hand by recounting in a short version the happenings at Kassen's crypt. Lacklan listened carefully. "If there was one of the masked servants of Razmir among them, it stands to reason the cult wanted those amulets you are looking for. Why, only they could know. Everything they do is for money, usually. And I know for a fact that a group from the local temple went up north a few months back, but only a few returned. They went straight back to the temple. Might've been the thieves you are looking for." 

"What, in the name of all good gods, would a strange cult want with the amulet of our hero and his foe? How could anyone even know about them?" Cajun's fist hit the table. "No one has been in Kassen and asked. Not that we know of, anyway."

"If your hero was the adventuring type, he may have had more companions. Maybe some of them are still alive? Who knows, maybe they are now with that cult," Reginar shrugged. "Plenty of opportunities to find out where your former allies are, I suppose. A few weeks after this group came back from the north, another group took off from the temple. Some blue robed woman was leading them, maybe their leader. I don't get their robe colors, most run around in grey, some are grey and I saw a few black ones, too. Denoting rank, I suppose. Anyway, they took a boat and off they went. Haven't been back since." 

"They are in it for the money, you say, but last thing I saw, they were at least pretending to help the poor," Bjön said. 

"You've been away for about a year, yes?" Reginar asked. "You remember around that time they started building their temple? Well, people wondered how their funds came about, and there are stories of theft and extortion. They blackmail people. And what's worse, the city guard seems to be mostly in their pockets as well. Saw them beat a man almost to death, supposedly he stole from them. City watch didn't do a thing about it. That's how bad it now is." 

"The other paladins..." the dwarf started, but the ranger waved his idea way, chuckling. "There are no paladins around now that I know of.  There had been some sort of border conflict supposedly involving demons or undead and they all rushed off." 

"Hasn't anyone tried to find out details about them? Some sort of investigation the government has started – they must know their guard isn't doing their duty," Edawon wondered. 

"The government has no resources, which is why they are probably happy the cult helps the poor – which they actually do." 

"Does the name Ranger's Lament ring a bell?" Teltz asked, remembering the note from the crypt. 

"Oh yeah." Reginar took a large gulp from his beer and belched. "It is where they do their recruiting meetings. They have no services, see, they just recruit you to your faith and make you a member. No maybes and such. You don't get into their temple without being a member."

"That complicates things," the bard sighed. "I was hoping to just get in, search for our property and be on our way again."

"If it is even still there," Samin frowned. 

"If you want to get in, you need to bring some time," the ranger grinned. "Pretend to be interested and let them convert you. They'll lock you in the temple for a few days to teach you, so I heard. After that, from what I gathered you are pretty much free to roam around at least in some parts."

"Right, that, I won't do. We'll find another way. I'll let you know how it goes," Bjön nodded and got up. 

"Actually, I'm all for helping you if I can. If you manage to get in and out again, or gain any other information, care to meet me here again in a week? Maybe I have something for you then, too." 

"That's great, thanks for the help," Teltz agreed. When the others got up, too, they left the hall just to find the rain had gone worse and the long walk back was going to be tedious. Bjön, still seemingly fresh, didn't seem to care. Finally, a few blocks from the hall, they found a man with a donkey cart who agreed to drive them for some silver after Cajun and Samin – always the pranksters – played totally drunk and Teltz, playing along, acted the worried father who had just found them. In the dark, it wasn't as obvious that the half-orc wasn't half human. They barely managed to get onto the cart, with Edawon barely fitting in what left the paladin to walk. Bjön just laughed, shaking his head. He preferred to walk, in any case, and he was, short legs or not, quicker about it without the youngsters. The only one able to keep up with his stride had been the bard until now, but the others would learn to walk fast soon enough if they were to roam the world. And he, Chosen of Desna, would be there to help them along, so he promised himself.


----------



## Lwaxy (Dec 7, 2011)

"You got how much for the charter thingy?" Zaza's eyes almost popped out of their sockets over breakfast when Cajun showed them the 500 pieces of shiny gold he had gotten from the military for the proof that the privateers were hired by their enemies. Mook and Samin stared as well, none of them had ever seen so much gold. Edawon seemed indifferent; he had seen a lot more, actually, just that it never was any money he was allowed to touch. 

"That'll help," Samin's father admitted. "I had indeed been worried about our monetary situation. Not that the mayor could give us much but provisions." 

"Yeah, guess he thought what we found with the robbers would do," Cajun said, throwing a quick glance at his sister. 

"S-so w-what n-now? We scout the t-templke and t-the bar?" Mook asked. 

"Not we, Zaza," Bjön suggested. "She might not know city life but she looks very harmless. And you, Cajun, as a smith, maybe you could ask for temporary work as a journeyman. Close enough to the temple, that is, as there are several smithies to the west of the block." 

"Block?" Cajun wondered. 

"That's how big the temple actually is," the dwarf nodded. 

"Quite some temple," Samin pondered. "If we need to search all that for the pendants..."

"We'll see. I'll go look for a job, then," Cajun grinned and got up. He couldn't wait to do some real work again for a chance.




Zaza knew another thief when she saw one. And there were more than one among the crowd of people who had gathered to see the priests and their acolytes – the ones in the white robes, the halfling deducted. Priests of the temple walked through the masses and cut purses here, lifted a bag there. "Quite some religion," she muttered before she mingled among the crowd herself. She was supposed to just watch, but she couldn't watch that. 

To Zaza, stealing from bad people – including people to rich to share – was not a bad thing. The people those priests stole from looked like normal folk who weren't rich enough to be able to afford losing their money like that. The girl went right behind the 3 stealing priests, one after the other as fast as she could, who robbed the listeners of their belongings, and in turn dug into the bag at their side, liberating them oif their stolen possessions. The priests, as she had suspected, never even saw her, they were completely concentrating on not being seen themselves. They were slow about it, too, what was no wonder with their robes. 

Each stolen item went into the bag of holding she was carrying hidden under her wide shirt. Every now and then, she faked interest in the preaching priests in the middle of the crowd. Being small was definitely an advantage, and being swift even more so. No wonder halflings made the best thieves – in her opinion anyway. 

There were two difficult moments when the eldest and most experienced of the priests almost noticed her, but she was lucky. This time. Zaza left the crowd and called herself stupid for doing what she just had done. Observe, not interfere, she had been told. But, as everyone knew, she was not all that good at doing what she was told. 

Then she realized the second part of her plan would not work. Even if everyone would be standing around after the priests left, she could hardly announce herself, telling them the priests stole from them and give it back – even if they would believe her it was like painting a sign on their efforts to infiltrate them. And it was impossible to track about 10 people at once to give them their stuff back. She had risked her discovery for nothing but the thrill of it. 

Well, maybe not for nothing. Money was always useful. 



The endeavor of the young halfling had not gone completely unnoticed. From a small alley barely wide enough to let one person through, a set of eyes were following her every move. A yellow snout appeared and sniffed in Zaza's direction, but the wind came from the wrong side and the creature was too far away to have had much luck, anyway. "Stealer stealing from stealers," it muttered in a strange accent. "A thief taking from thieves. My prophecy... my prophecy."




Later that evening, they met at The Weathered Rose a good time before dinner. Cajun came down from taking a bath, as he had indeed found journeyman work in a local smithy. In short, he gave the others a summary of the rumors he had heard. There was all sort of nonsense imaginable. From the cult leader being a medusa, to the god of the cult walking the very streets of the city – there was just no way to know what could be true. One thing was clear, though, everyone feared them. They were running a protection scheme, and talking about disliking them could cause a lot of trouble to the complainers as you couldn't know who was looking on. The only reason, the half-orc was sure, they talked to him at all was because he was a stranger and not in danger of being a cult member.

"They also steal," Zaza added, and explained what had happened on the street in front of the temple – without telling what she had done with the thieves, though. The last thing she needed was a lesson or the other on keeping a low profile and out of other people's pockets. 

"So, all in all they are criminals," Bjön nodded. "In their home country, it is not much different so I heard. I doubt the man they follow is anywhere close to a god."

"That makes little difference, except they won't have any divine magic if that is true." Teltz scratched his chin. "What else have you leaned?" he asked Zaza. 

"It is about impossible to get to this temple without being seen, all busy streets and thus also more of the guard. All the businesses close by pay to the temple. Supposedly, since the temple is around, there are little, if any, thefts. Save those of the cult, but no one mentions those. The temple folks come and go, no real pattern in anything, but they are mostly in groups, and mostly white robed. I'm sure those are the acolytes or whatever they call them. We might as well grab some of them, take their robes and masks and get back in."

"And once inside, we won't know what to do and be discovered," Edawon said and shook his head. "Better that one or two of us pretend to be new converts and go inside as acolytes, and we do the grabbing and masquerading once we know how it works on the inside."

"Not too bad an idea. Which means you and me?" Teltz asked, looking at Edawon. "I take it you have done such a thing before, and frankly, so have I. I'm a bard, and can find myself in the role of a cultist easily enough."

The halfling nodded. "I have indeed. I had a run around and heard they do one of their recruiting schemes tonight, so we might as well get to it sooner than later."

"What about the rest of us?" Samin wanted to know. 

"The rest of you will stay close by the temple as long as we're inside, at least two of you close by, with Zaza and Samin taking the night shifts." Teltz grinned at his son, he knew of his tendency to hang out with Cajun and Zaza during the nights, climbing trees and roofs of Kassen. "Cajun will go working and keep his eyes and ears open. We can use both the rumors and the money."



After dinner, the two of them headed out to the Ranger's Lament a good time before the meeting so they would arrive early. Zaza and Samin followed them, the latter having some sort of disagreement with his hawk about it, as the bird was not able to do all that well in the dark. 

Sitting in the shadow of the Temple to Razmir, the Ranger’s Lament was a simple establishment. Made from solid wood timbers, the one-story building was comprised primarily of a large common room, with a bar and a kitchen off to one side. Although open for business, very few people appeared
to be inside, despite the fact that many of the other local establishments seemed quite full.

Inside, the two of them were welcomed by the barkeep. "I'm Rolen Oggersmith," the burly man said with a wide smile that seemed somewhat not sincere. "Take any seat, the priests will arrive shortly."

Teltz pointed to a table with 3 chairs in the middle of the room, and they sat down, making themselves comfortable. 

As they did so, another young man came through the door, a slim half-elf who went to take a seat in the corner not too far from them. He looked somewhat desperate, the typical cult victim. Edawon raised an eyebrow at the guy, but Teltz shook his head slightly. It was not their business what others did, they were here for one purpose only – get their stuff and leave, and, if there was a chance, proving the cult was dangerous would be a plus. 

About 20 minutes later, a group of 6 masked cultists entered. Of, those, 2 had grey robes and one wore black. With a look around, they neared the stage. Teltz couldn't be sure, but he thought he could make out some disappointment about the turn out by the way the black robed leader shrugged his shoulders. 

After stepping up onto the stage, the figure in the black robes turned to the audience, his face hidden behind the iron mask. With a strong voice, he called out, “You have come here to seek the power and glory of Razmir, and I am here to tell you that he has found you worthy!” At that, all of the other priests chanted in one voice, “All praise the Living God!”

“He is proud of you,” the black-robed figure continued, “for taking this, the first of 31 steps to enlightenment, the path of righteousness, the stairs to power and glory. Razmir is the one true god. What other god so richly rewards those who follow him? What other god lives among his people, guiding them with his wisdom and his might? What other god can lead you to true salvation? None of them! Only Razmir can offer you the power, the fortune, and the glory that you desire. Will you join him?” He folded his arms and waited for an answer.

"How pathetic," Edawon whispered so only the bard could hear. For all to hear, he spoke his consent, as did Teltz and the unknown youngling. 

"Congratulations on a wise decision." The protest boomed. "The temple will pay for all your food and drink tonight, before your training begins."

As they had already eaten before, Teltz and Edawon stuck to ale. "Kind of anti-climatic. That's all, you come here and get your meal paid for? Sounds too simple if you ask me." The halfling saluted the half-elf who was digging into food as if it was his last meal. 

Right then, the half-elf seemed to get tired all of a sudden. His head slumped and he barely missed the plate as his head fell to the table. "What..?" Edawon managed before he felt dizzy as well. "Those bastards poisoned our f..." He fell off the chair and stayed down. Teltz just had time to think about how fascinating and illogical it was to poison people already agreeing to join their cult.. unless they had been found out, that was. Then he, too, met the darkness of unconciousness. 



"They didn't come back out?" Bjön frowned as he looked from Zaza to Samin. "That means they must have a connection from the tavern to the temple. Maybe I should talk to the owner..."

"And break cover?" Cajun shook his head at the idea of the paladin. "We can check out if there is a connection later tonight, I'm sure the keep can be made quiet for a while. Maybe that will be a better way in than borrowing their outfit. We just watch the temple and the tavern alike I'd say." 

"Yeah, from what we heard, it might be a few days before they come out again." Samin pointed towards the way to their inn. "We'll have some food and rest now, if you don't mind. We'll be back in the evening." 

Mook nodded and patted her wolf. As the two of them left and Cajun went to the smithy, she frowned at the dwarf. "You are n-not m-much for secrecy, are y-you?"

"I would prefer to be able to go to the authorities, yes," the paladin admitted. "But it seems we have little choice here. Let's walk around and watch everything at once." He sounded slightly annoyed at the idea of a day's wait. 




The masked, black-robed priest paced down the narrow stone hallway, looking in each of the cells the 3 abductees had been locked into. “I must apologize for the way that you were brought here,” he began with a calm, even tone. “We must be sure that you are pure and properly prepared to join the faith. Today you shall fast and meditate on the glory of Razmir. On the morrow you shall be sworn in and given your masks, made one with the body of Razmir; one piece of the greater whole. You shall become acolytes, and be allowed upon the first step of enlightenment. Rejoice! The path of glory and fortune shall be open to you.”

With that, the priest left again, and the rest of the day passed in utter boredom and with rumbling stomachs. Every 6 hours they were given water, but that was all. None of the priests spoke to them again and they didn't bother to try engaging them in talk. 

After 24 hrs, the priest, this time introducing himself as Egarthis, returned with a group of priests to release them. "It is time for the ceremony," they were now told. "Follow me."

They were led up small stairs, through a room with a table and chairs,,a hallway and into a large room with many pews. The main temple area, so it seemed. A large crowd of masked priests waited in the temple. While white robes shrouded most of them, some wore gray, and a few showed black. In the center of the chamber was a gigantic staircase, atop of which glittered a porcelain and gold mask, the holy symbol of Razmir. On the eighth step of the stairs stood a black-robed priest, who spoke gravely.  “Come forward.” 

They were asked to stand one at a time on the first step. Priests handed them white robes approximately their size and ions masks. "This you must wear when on the first floor or outside," they were told. One by one, they accepted their attire to the chants of "all hail Razmir." With some difficulty, everyone managed it into robes and mask, although the robes were still too wide for the halfling. Teltz was sure he heard a mumbled "pathetic" at some point. 

"Brother Krant will tutor you in the ways of the Living God," Egarthis declared after welcoming them to the community. "When you have proven yourselves worthy, you will be free members and get your possessions back." 

At that, the cultists fled the room one by one. Once they were all gone, Krant set to explain the rules. There were quite a few of them. Their routine was to start the next day. Then they were shown where to eat and sleep. 

"This is going to be a rather boring assignment," Teltz whispered once no one seemed to be close. 

The next day was not quite as boring as it had seemed at first. Getting up at 7 for a quick breakfast and then working some in the yard, the two of them decided that there were worse things – getting up even earlier, for example. The prayer and lessons half through the morning and the meager lunch were more bothersome, as was the cleaning of the temple floor with way too small brushes. While Edawon had trouble with the soap and water and, of course, the brush, he was sure Teltz had had some magical help at one point of the other. During afternoon prayer, the halfling was so exhausted he fell asleep a few times. Luckily, no one noticed and he was not the only one either. 

Then there was what they called training in the afternoon. Indoctrination on how to act in public, basically. Everything from how to walk and keeping your identity secret to how to extort money and mock other faiths. Teltz actually had some fun with it, pretending he was not good in acting like they wanted in public but also presented himself as a quick learner. 

Then there was dinner at 7 again, more evening prayers and finally, every acolyte was used to copy the so-called holy texts. Edawon got out of this duty and was instead sent to help carry a delivery in when he successfully pretended to be unable to write and barely able to read. Finally, they could return to their rooms, all hoping to be seen as worthy sooner than later. 

The second day almost got themselves involved into a fight Krant staged between acolytes in the courtyard. Edawon faked sickness, and Teltz charmed the man into thinking he had won such a fight before, and the two of them watched in disdain as Evlar – the young half-elf – and the others fought to win a night without copying duties. 

2 days later, they were taken to be part of the preachings outside the temple, witnessing the pick pocketing of the Razmirans from the other side of the fence, so to say. Teltz made it harder for them with his bardic spells, drawing attention to their doings once or twice, but no one bothered to call the guards. But the crowd dispersed faster. To their surprise, each of them got a share of the loot when they returned. Edawon frowned at it but said nothing, of course.


----------



## Azkorra (Dec 17, 2011)

This story hour continues to be good stuff! Where is the thumbs-up smilie?


----------



## Lwaxy (Dec 31, 2011)

Seems I forgot to post the last part of our last session after a comp crash, oops. 

-----------------------------------------------------


The waiting outside was not much better. Only Cajun felt useful in working and earning money. Zaza in particular became bored quickly enough and couldn't help to liberate a few things from rich arrogant merchants when Samin wasn't looking. But as there weren't many people out at night, there was not enough to occupy her mind, and keeping watch became very tiresome, especially as they couldn't talk much lest they would draw attention. 

On the 3rd night, Zaza saw the glowing eyes following them for the first time, but Samin laughed at it and blamed her lively imagination. But she saw them again the next night, twice at that. Determined, she borrowed Dadawin for the next night. The wolf would surely sniff out anyone following them. 

Dadawin already growled when they left the inn. On the way to the temple, he was nervous, but Zaza managed to calm Mook's companion down. "If we are really followed," Samin joked, "then whoever it is will sure stop now, with the big bad wolf at our sides." 

Zaza threw him a look that made him shut up and just moved on. A few minutes later, they were watching the temple again, as usual from the roof of the Ranger's lament. Dadawin was watching down in the alley. "Why are we doing this, anyway?" Samin sighed. "I'm sure they have other exists than the main one and the possible connection to the tavern. Plus, my da and Edawon might have been out a few times but we can't recognize them in their masks."

"Better than not paying attention," Zaza replied, although she had been wondering the same thing.

"I don't know about that, I..." Samin started, but the angry howl of the wolf and a panicked cry cut him short. Zaza was already on her way down before Samin could worry about anyone else, especially the guard, hearing the commotion. 

Samin, moving down the gnarled tree they had come up much slower, heard a muffled shout and a loud curse and more growling from the wolf. When he was finally going towards the corner the wolf was herding his prey into, Mook had already seized a small someone by pitch black robes, trying to force the unknown stalker's hood off. 

"What do we have here?" Samin said, in the best imitation of a hero in his favorite stories. "Could this be a goblin?"

"Aiii! Goblin yourself," came the angry hiss from under the hood. Small yellow hands with claws grabbed Mook's hands and held them easily. "I done nothing to you."

"Except stalking us," the halfling stated. "We've seen you following us for a while. What is going on?"

Mumbling a new spell he had learned recently, Samin made a move with his right hand, and the magic took the hood of the stranger down. In the dim light, they could make out a yellow reptile face with big orange eyes. Pointy teeth flashed and a breath smelling of fish condensed in the cold of the pre-winter night. 

"That's....a kobold," Zaza recognized the creature. 

"I have never seen a yellow kobold," Samin muttered, as astonished as his friend was. 

"And exactly how many kobolds have you seen, mighty wizard?" the hissing voice was mocking him. The stranger let Zaza's hands go and took a step back. 

Samin was not about to admit that his only knowledge of kobolds came from the books his wizard master had in his meager library. "A kobold following us is bad news," he said instead. "Where there is one, there are many, and they are usually up to mischief."

"What were you doing following us?" Zaza inquired, getting back to the part of it that interested her most. 

"I was not following him," the kobold made clear. "I was following you. And I am alone. Call that wolf back, I am not a threat to you." 

"No, obviously not," Zaza said, holding Dadawin at his scruff. "But that does not mean you meant no harm."

"A clever one, you are, thief from thieves," the kobold chuckled; it was a strange sort of laughter that made Samin feel uncomfortable. "Well, then, I mean you and your friends no harm. Sure this mighty wizard has a spell to confirm that?" 

"Unfortunately not," Samin admitted before he thought of bluffing the kobold. But a look at Dadawin made him more at ease. "But our furry friend seems to believe you." Indeed, the wolf's hair was smooth again, and he only barely growled now. "What do you mean with thief from thieves?"

Zaza shot Samin a look he knew all too well; she had omitted something from her former reports about a situation and didn't want him to preach at her for it. "Yes, please, tell us – but up on the roof as we have a mission to fulfill."

"Up there?" There was a hint of panic in the lizard being's voice. "Ah, that is the one problem I have. Heights are so not my thing."

"The <b>one</b> problem you have?" Samin snorted. "You don't have any others, like, following strangers around at night?"

"I wasn't following you around all night," the kobold snapped back. "I was actually following you day and night, just that by day you were sleeping and so was I, most of the time. Could hardly stay awake for days, now, could I?" He seemed to say the last part to himself and he – was it even a he, Samin wondered – reluctantly followed Zaza. Samin thought that, if the kobold would dart off, they would likely not be able to catch it. 

The way up on the roof they had been on before led over a few old crates and a toolshed in the garden of a shop and up the branch of a tree. Samin, not the best climber, had learned in his time being friends with Zaza to just climb right behind her and do as she did. The kobold seemed to be doing ok until they were on the shed, then it made the mistake of looking down. It was only 2 meters to the ground, but this seemed to be quite enough to make the lizard-like being feeling dizzy. Only the wolf on the ground and Zaza climbing up ahead made him go on, so Samin thought. The kobold paid him little heed, even when Samin had to shove him from the branch to the flat roof of the shop. 

"I sure hope we didn't miss anything," Zaza mumbled, looking in the direction of the Masked God's temple. 

"What are you staring at that temple for, anyway?" the kobold asked. "If they want to go out unseen, they have ways to do so, and not only under this shop I would guess. And your friends in there need to help themselves if anything goes wrong. You wouldn't make it in there. You are just wasting your time here." 

"Maybe so, but..." Samin started, then he stopped to stare at their new acquaintance again. "How do you know what we are watching?"

"I have been following her," the kobold reminded them. " I was watching. And sometimes listening, too."

"How impolite," Zaza barely supressed a laugh. "What is your name, anyway? I am sure you must know ours." 

What Samin took as a smile on the kobold's face widened. "I'm Kronk, the monk," he explained with a mocking bow. "At your service and my own."

"Now that's a honest introduction, I'm sure," Samin said. "Monk? I didn't know kobolds were monks..." 

"You didn't know kobolds were yellow, either," Kronk retorted. 

At a loss for words, Samin just shrugged and kept watching the temple, although he suspected – and had suspected this for a while now – that the kobold was right and keeping up a watch did nothing but making them suspicious if anyone would see them. 

"So, now that we are here and you have been so nice to introduce yourself," Zaza said, "what about telling us why you were following us – me – around, and how come you are in this city anyway. I can't imagine people would like having kobolds around. Your kind is known for mischief and destruction, after all." 

"There is just me, and one lonely yellow kobold causes little offense," came the reply. "And I have a protector, too, but that is a long story for later, when all of you are present. I am not about to stop following you, stealer from stealers, and now that you know of me already, I am sure you want to introduce me to the rest of your friends, yes?"

Zaza's mouth opened, but now she was at a loss for words, too. "You... are quite the bold thing," she finally managed." 

"Kobold," he grinned his toothy grin again. "Quite the bold kobold."


----------



## Lwaxy (Jan 2, 2012)

"We've been through the whole area now, and have found nothing. We need to get to the next floor." The bard's voice was slightly angry, but he managed to keep his voice low enough while the two of them stared at the murals in the worship hall, supposedly in prayer and worship. The murals, of course, described the past and hopeful future – world dominance, what else – of the Living God. By now, they both had noticed that the artist had had some fun with depicting some of the god's supposed worshipers in a state of fear and terror rather than admiration and worship. 

"Or we could first explore the half of the basement off limits to us," the halfling mused. "Or wait even longer to get out of acolyte status." 

"Supposedly, that is soon," Teltz sighed. "But knowing those folks, soon may be next year."

"You said you had a way to sneak into the basement's closed off area," Edawon said. "And that you could not take me along. How, and why only you?"

"I can turn invisible, through a magic not transferable," Hest mumbled, obviously not quite comfortable about it. "Never mind the details, but it likely means I can mingle through, even the upper areas, without being noticed. I dislike undertaking such a search alone, though. At least for the second floor."

Hest nodded. "You will probably be fine in the basement. Not too much traffic there, from what I could see. At least not at night."

"Which means, I take it, we should pretend to retire for the night. Very well, then. We have done enough... worshiping... for the day, I'd say."

"I'd say," replied the grinning halfling and turned away from the mural. No one had paid them any attention, the few others present were also busy to get the required praying and worshiping time in before they went to bed. 

In their chambers, which were also in the basement, Teltz locked the door, not wanting to be observed by the halfling, who he trusted only to a certain point. Not even his son knew all that there was about him – or their family history – so the bard would not tell a new acquaintance so early in their friendship.

The halfling waited outside; none of their roommates – a dwarf, the half-elf Evlar and two human sisters who would make any evil god proud in Teltz' opinion – were in yet. They had seen the dwarf in the worship room and knew the sisters out with one of the priests on whatever errand. So Teltz thought they should be safe enough. With one last hesitation, he lifted his shirt up to his navel, revealing a barely visible tattoo of silvery ink forming a leaf-like pattern around it. 

As he traced the pattern with his right index finger, the world around him seemed to change, becoming more transparent and appearing to be illuminated by a colorless light from within. In truth, it was him changing; his body and mind partially slipping into another realm of existence, becoming invisible and, as he had not yet told anyone, mostly insubstantial. He would be able to walk right through doors and walls now, although he didn't like the sensation going along with it. At first, he had had to do this naked, but after long years, he was able to keep his possessions with him lest they be too big and heavy. But he had not yet learned how to bring things with him by turning them into his current state. All in all, Teltz did not understand the process very much, which is why he usually didn't use the tattoo, which in turn meant he didn't get more experience with it. 

The door opened just then and the dwarf entered, Hest behind him with a worried expression. The halfling relaxed when he noticed that the bard was already invisible. Teltz used that moment to slip out of the door; he had not thought about how to open the door once he was invisible, and simply walking through it would have meant more explanations later. 

He would need explanations as to how he had managed to go through the permanently locked door to the restricted area in the basement, too. Maybe he would claim someone had gone in and out, but that would be a very convenient coincidence to believe. Teltz would worry about that later, though. Right now, he was content to make it through the iron door, ignoring the sickly feeling associated with passing through solid material. 

A single everburning torch in a sconce on the eastern wall provided light for this area, revealing a dusty, cobweb-ridden corridor. The stench of sweat and worse was in the air, but in his transformed form, it didn't bother him. He knew that to the left of the T-section at the eastern wall would lead to the cells they had awoken in a few days ago, so Teltz took the left turn and passed through another door at the end of the short corridor. 

He emerged in front of a staircase leading down, curving to the east. Some musky smell was in the air, but as all sensations were somewhat different in his current state, he had no idea what it could be. An animal, maybe? Some residue from a ritual?

The pressure trap on the stairs was clear to the human as he descended, but he could ignore it, of course. At the end of the stairs were no doors and so he could see the next room clearly. It had the look of a second half to the sliding trap he had just walked over. The tall chamber was broken into two levels. Loose gravel, dirt, and bones covered the bottom level, while a walkway traversed the upper level from east to west, leading from this room. At opposite ends of the room on the lower level stood a pair of gigantic stone statues, roughly carved in the image of Razmir, his hands held high to support the room’s ceiling. Each statue sat upon a pedestal with a large hole in its base that sloped down and out of sight.

"Something nasty hiding in those holes, no doubt," he muttered and twitched at the strange sound his voice made in his momentary form. There were bones and remains of possessions all over the floor. He could make out a wand and a purse, and several gems. He crouched down and separated useful stuff from junk, putting a golden ring, a pearl and the wand into the large purse. Anyone watching would have seen those items levitating. He held on to the purse and had a better look at the room. 

Looking for a way to climb up, the bard noticed a door at the west end of the walkway. A secret door he had failed to notice when he was upstairs. It had to be right under the everburning flame. 
The bard tossed his bundle of loot up on the walkway. Hopefully, he would find a way to take it through the secret door later. Then he turned and walked up the stairs again. No need to climb – which was more difficult in this half solid form – when he could just walk through the wall upstairs. Which he did a few minutes later to pick up his bundle. He hid it as best as he could just behind the secret door, so at least no one coming from that side would fall over it right away. Then he proceeded to the east and passed through the next closed door. 

The stale scent of perfume and incense was heavy in this opulent chamber with pillows, carpets, and other fineries covering the floor. Silk curtains were hanging over the walls, and flicking light emanated from a hidden source on the ceiling, which was also draped in curtains. On the north side of the room, a gilded throne, bedecked with tiny gemstones, was sitting upon a raised dais. Half-empty bottles of various spirits were lying about the room, and an exotic water pipe was set up in the middle, filled tobacco. Golden censers, currently unlit, were hanging from the columns.

One by one, the bard checked the curtains. Behind the southern one, he found another door. With a shudder, he reluctantly passed through this one as well. By now, he felt quite sick to the stomach. 

This chamber contained two small chests on opposite walls and a large chest between them, sitting next to a table. Atop the wooden table were three bags and a large ledger. A treasury, as it seemed. 

The chests proved to be locked. Teltz made one of his hands go through the wood and felt around, feeling a lot of coins in sacks, the middle one also containing a wooden case. Teltz ignored the chests and turned to the bags on the table. The first was filled with four complete sets of city guard uniforms, matching those worn by the local watch exactly; the second contained 23 silver holy symbols, representing nearly every good and neutral deity, and the final bag appeared to be empty. But Teltz knew a bag of holding when he saw one. Reaching inside, he thought of getting everything out and retrieved pieces of a broken gold chain looking rather old. He recognized them immediately as fragments from the chains hanging around Ara's and Kassen's necks in the Crypt of the Everflame. Here was the final proof that they had been right coming to the temple. 

The ledger held check in information for all the items, although it didn't list where they came from. 'There were also mentions of transportation of tithes – to Razmiran, Teltz suspected, filling the purses of the Masked God's nation. 

For a long moment, the bard contemplated his discoveries. The bag of holding meant he had a way bringing all of the treasures out of here and the temple if he so decided. There was no weight limit for such bags in his current state, he had tried that before. It held the risk of being discovered though, because it meant he would have to dispel the tattoo's magic and then invoke it again. 

Discovery, he realized, wasn't his real fear. There was but a slim chance of anyone stumbling in here at this time of night.  But the repercussions of using the tattoo's powers in quick succession and the thus needed ritual of restoration – which he could probably not do in their inn – were not something he looked forward to. Additionally, he had a bit of a moral problem taking these riches. Not because he thought the temple should keep them, but because there was a slim chance the city officials could use it for the poor once the temple had been exposed. He was not the thieving type; yet their group would need a lot of resources, knowing they would not be likely to return to their former home anytime soon. Only Teltz knew the true nature of the hunters trying to find him and his son ever since he had adopted the boy. The quiet years in Kessen were now at an end. And then, who said the city would use the money to aid those who needed it, anyway? 

Tracing his left index finger over the tattoo, he dispelled the tattoo's strange magic. As usual, he could not breathe for a moment, much as if his body needed to readjust to being solid. When he could focus again, he put the chain parts back into the bag of holding and then lifted his shirt again, retracing the tattoo with his right index finger to become invisible again. This time, he felt even sicker than before. But there was no other way. Only when holding the bag while invoking the magic did the bag become like him, and only then it could be used to gather up and transport normal, solid things through solid matter. He had done that before, although with a lot less loot that he would be doing now. 

Teltz set about in a hurry. First he went through the chests one by one, gathering up the sacks and the box of wood and emptying them on the table again. He would not take what he couldn't use later. While the bag had no weight and space limit in the state it was in now, everything in it would put a burden on his soul. The effect was hard to describe, but it was not pleasant at all. 

The 9 bags of silver and the 4 bags of gold he returned to the magical storage right away. The wooden case, made of darkwood and valuable in itself, held 5 moonstones, several potions, a portion of oil, a dose of what he thought was sovereign glue and a set of horseshoes which he thought to be magical. He returned it to the bag of holding as well. The weapon, a mace, he had also discovered he left out. It was likely some sort of magical weapon, but for him to add it to the pack would cause his soul to be burdened more than by normal weight. His insubstantial form was not very compatible with weapons beyond simple knives. 

There were 14 bags of copper coins from the last chest. He contemplated over them, and finally his greed, born of worry for his son and the others from the group, made him pack those as well. By now he became increasingly nervous, an effect part of the soul burden. 

In the room with the throne-like chair, he stopped to free it of its gems. His hate for this cult he was pretending to be a part of grew with every moment, and he wanted nothing more than harm them in any way he could. This effect was, as he would have noticed had he been his normal self, also an effect of the soul burden he now carried. 

In a hurry he rushed all the way back to where he had hidden his first loot. Adding it to the bag, he went out through the secret door. He felt the need to vomit, but his job was far from done, and now that he had committed to it, he would see his plan through. 

Getting to the second floor was no problem being invisible. The guards chatted with themselves and didn't suspect anything; as long as he wouldn't walk right though them that was. Teltz stared at the jewels in the grand mask fitted between the guard alcoves longingly, but his need to damage was not that great yet to be so foolish and alert the guards after all. 

He went around the balcony overlooking the lower area and stood in front of a pair of double doors made of silver. The symbol of Razmir and several of his followers offering him treasures was engraved into it. Again, he went right through, feeling a slight pain now in addition to the sickness. 

This new room had many doors, three on each side and a pair of double doors opposite the entrance. In the center of the chamber, a twostep dais served as a base for a sculpture made up of dozens of masks, carefully forged into a humanoid shape. Teltz thought it looked like a golem of sorts and was relieved not to be seen. 

Those were clearly the quarters of the high ups, and for a moment, Teltz thought of investigating them, but then, he was here for the things stolen from the crypt of Kassen. He was looking for the high priest's quarters, knowing she had left last week. So he picked the double doors to pass through. 

A large plush bed on the south wall, facing a carved oak desk on the north side, furnished the large and opulently decorated chamber. In the center of the room, a large carpet, woven with the mask of the Razmir at its center, spread across the floor. A small table positioned next to it bears a small whip, a pair of manacles, two bottles of Andoran brandy and four vials of exotic perfumes. Teltz ignored those. 

The bard set about searching the room carefully, more and more nervous and ready to attack someone or destroy something. In the bookcase, carefully disguised behind a false book face, he found 3 more ledgers dealing with the temple's business. One held the income with all the details about how it was obtained – few of it legally – and one other the expenses, which weren't always legal either. Both those volumes, Teltz threw into his magical bag. There was no time to waste here. The third, however, dealt with the Kassen expedition. For a moment he thought of reading it right away, but then he felt more irrational thoughts creeping up due to his burden, and he threw it into the bag as well. 

The only other thing of mild interest was a locked drawer in the table. After confirming what he was looking for was not in there, he added the contents without any further thought to his bag. Disappointed but still eager to do damage, he left through the doors again. The hate was building up to rage, somewhat fueled by the disappointment. Against all reason, Teltz began to invade the other rooms. 

Only one of the rooms was occupied; loud snoring drove the bard out again before he was fully through the door. The others, he quietly but thoroughly ransacked. One of them was clearly the chamber of Egarthis. A map detailing the cult's progress in the city was on the wall. It looked as if they made astonishing progress, which in turn was quite shocking to Teltz. 

Egarthis was a man of little possessions, or so it seemed. The only thing the bard found worth taking was a Vudrani dagger – or so it looked – set with a variety of colored gems. There was dried blood on it, which only pushed the human's emotion up even more. Ina  fit of uncontrolled rage, he hacked at the map on the wall with the dagger, again and again, shouting curses in a voice only he could hear. 

The thumping on the map was obviously heard, though, as a moment later a sleepy voice in front of the door called out asking if everything was alright. With a surprised hiss, Teltz added the dagger to his prizes and went out of the room, not only through the door but also through the priest Rennec who had been standing right outside. A startled gasp came from the other man's mouth before he dropped in a convulsion. 

The guards came towards them already as Teltz moved out on the balcony. But that was another opportunity. Namely, to loot the mask. It was a foolish thing to do, but he could not help it. The six emeralds could be removed easily, but the bard struggled with the green quartz. When he finally got it out without damaging it, the guards were already calling for reinforcements, and alarm bells rang out. Taking two steps at once, the bard ran downwards and toward the temple gates, barely avoiding passing through more people.


----------



## Lwaxy (Jan 6, 2012)

The alarm in the temple set everyone running to see what was going on, including the acolytes. Hest was among the first to rush out of the basement, fearing that his partner had been discovered but relaxing slightly when he noticed the commotion came from upstairs. Teltz was, to his knowledge, just exploring in the basement and could probably use the distraction to reappear. 

"What's going on?" he asked one of the older members, running past him while donning a sword belt. 

"Something knocked out one oft the priests, with magic or something. Supposedly invisible." With that, the man ran on, followed by a woman holding a rapier. "We're blocking the exits," she took a second to explain. 

Krant, the acolyte master, came limping past with a grim expression. "Don't stand there selling pocket monkeys, take this axe and go stand in the main gates with me."

Slightly confused, the halfling did as told. All he wanted was to check upstairs but he had no way of getting there. "I'm no good with big weapons," he dared to comment. 

"Yeah, I noticed, that, but you'll look at least slightly threatening to an invisible intruder, I hope." Krant joined a few others blocking the temple gates, everyone looking confused but determined. "There is a full search on the way," a voice Edawon recognized as that of Egarthis shouted. "Everyone not in it, stay in position." 

There was little to do about it. Edawon tried to look more determined and less worried. The commotion in the temple became worse in the next few minutes, as it became clear that this was not a simple apprehend-the-intruder operation. The theft in the treasury was quickly discovered, and now there was talk of several intruders, as it was seen as about impossible for anyone of less than orc size to carry so much and make so little noise. Edawon was not so sure of that, but he was not about to say so. 

"Head count," someone called out. "Let's see who is here, and who should be here. The thieves must have come from our midst." 

Once more, the halfling had no idea why they would assume this; an invisible intruder could have passed through the gates at any time. But then the mentioning of a plundered treasury made him realize they suspected their high ranks. While that was a relief, he had no idea how to explain the absence of the bard and hoped the human would show up quickly. 

It was Krant who remembered that Edawon usually was around Teltz. "Your friend, where'd he go?" the acolyte master asked with an angry grin. "Trying to avoid work, as always?"

"He's not really my friend," Hest replied, maybe a bit too quickly. "Just the one I know best in here. And last I heard he was having some issues with the food of this morning."

Krant, who usually did the tasteless cooking for the acolytes, thought about this for a moment. It wasn't the first time someone reported someone else having issues with the food, although the affected acolytes hardly complained themselves, lest they ran afoul of Krant's temper. "So you telling me all the time he was just too sissy to admit he has a weak stomach? And rather get punished for being lazy?" A laugh started in the man's belly, and a moment later he could not contain it any longer, bellowing and howling in the most unpleasant way. It drew the attention of the priests quickly. 

"What's so funny?" Egarthis snapped as he came to the gates, obviously on his way to meet the small group from the city guard assembled outside. "Do you think someone stealing from our temple so amusing, Krant?" 

Krant's noise immediately ceased. "Nah, it is just..."

"Whatever it is, get the acolytes to their quarters and stay there. Everyone back to where they belong, and then we'll see who was where when this all went down. Someone must have let the thieves in." 

Relaxing slightly, Hest followed Krant and the other acolytes down. At the time of the alarm and a good time before, he had been in the kitchen, talking to the other present acolytes. No one could put any blame of him that he could find. But it seemed he was locked in the temple now, even more than before. 




"Something is going on at the temple." Zaza interrupted her attempts to get more out of the kobold - who kept saying he didn't like repeating himself and would only explain more when the rest of the group would be there - and pointed to the Razmiran house, where all windows were suddenly alight, and people were swarming the garden. "It is good we kept watch!"

"How is it helpful, when you have no way of knowing what is going on inside, nor are you all here. And if you were all here, you would still be too few to deal with those thugs-gone-religious. Even with that wolf of yours." The kobold's intelligent eyes distracted the two others from the commotion across the street. "How do you plan to get your comrades here? They are half across the city."

Indeed, the inn was quite some distance away. Because of it being free save for food and drink – thanks to the paladin – they had not dared to relocate closer to the temple, as their funds were, after all, still limited. It seemed a big mistake now. Samin could alert his hawk back at the inn thanks to the familiar bond and lots of practice, and someone – likely Cajun – would be close to Wilbur to catch when that happened. But for some reason, no one had thought about how long it would take those at the inn to get here. It was not like they had anyone who could teleport. 

Samin was already concentrating to shake the rest of the team into action. Zaza sighed and looked back at Kronk. "So, what do you purpose? Just wait and do nothing?"



Cajun was indeed sitting in the quiet common area upstairs next to the guestrooms, reading a book about alchemy he had borrowed from another guest. He was completely absorbed in the matter and tired from a day's work in the smithy, so it took him a moment to notice Wilbur hammering his beak at the window, sitting on the flag pole just outside. Just then, the door to the girls' room at the end of the corridor opened, and Mook emerged, her eyes wide with excitement. "Da-da-dadawin is upset, I think w-we n-need to g-go..." Then she noticed Wilbur and nodded. "So s-s-something is ha-ha-happening." 

The half-orc was already knocking at the dwarf's door. Bjön's head poked out and he blinked, being half asleep. But when he saw their expressions, he awoke quickly. "I'll be right down," he said and went about retrieving his armor. 

When Cajun returned the borrowed book to their rooms so no one else would take it, he noticed the door was ajar. A few days ago, he would not have wondered about it. The fighter they had shared the room with for the first days was always forgetting to close the door when he had been to the bathroom. But he was gone now, and there had no one been up or down the stairs for a while. Carefully, the boy took a peek inside. The bed of Samin's father was occupied, wet boots and a heap of clothes in front of it and a partly open bag seemed to be under the bed with some of the clothes. Trying to make no noise, Cajun came closer. The mouth fell open. He had expected some late guest having taken the wrong bed due to too much drink, but this was indeed Teltz. If he had gone from the temple, maybe that was the reason for the sudden alarm. Carefully, he tried to shake the bard awake, but all he got was a heavy snore. The man looked pale and exhausted and was sweating a little, much as if he had some kind of fever. Why had he not told them he was back? "Everyone," Cajun called. "Come in here, you won't believe this!"

A moment later, Mook and the now fully equipped paladin stared at the sleeping man as dumbfounded as Cajun. Both tried to wake him as well, with no success. "He is feverish but his temperature seems fine," Bjön noticed. Mook nodded to that. Her grandmother had taught her some healing, and she was sure the sweat must have different reasons and she said as much. "L-looks l-like some s-sort of shock," she guessed. 

The sound of Wilbur hacking at the window glass could be heard again. "W-what now?" Mook said, sounding helpless. "W-e are expected to c-come a-and yet s-someone s-should stay here."

"I will stay," Cajun heard himself say. "I know you may need a fighter extra, but Mook has to make sure Dadawin doesn't flip out, and a paladin who knows how this city works and the streets in the temple area might be a big help if you have to follow someone. And my arms are tired from a day's work anyway." 

The dwarf looked at him thoughtfully, then nodded. "Let's hurry, then, we can get horses in the stable – you can ride, can't you?"

"Of c-course," Mook confirmed. "I w-wasn't exactly b-born on horseback b-but if it isn't a w-wild stallion, I c-can ride."

As they left, Cajun closed the door behind them. His main reason for volunteering was not his tiredness, or any of the other reasons he had given. When Samin and him had been a lot younger, Samin had told him a little of how they had come to Kassen. Teltz featured a weird part in it all. At the end of the story, Samin made Cajun promise that, if his father would do something strange, or appear sick and confused and Samin was not around, Cajun would have to watch over him and protect him if he could. 

A promise was a promise. Teltz would definitely need the help once he woke up. Until then... Cajun's thoughts went to the bag under the bed. No one else seemed to have noticed it in the confusion. After their adventure in the crypt, the half-orc knew what a bag of holding looked like, especially when it was half open and looked like someone – likely the bard – had tried to remove something from it before collapsing on the bed. 

As the young man pulled at the bag, he noticed how heavy it was. He would not be able to carry it far, and not for the first time he wished he would be as strong as a regular half-orc. But it was not his to have. Teltz would let them know what was going on early enough. Cajun just hoped the human would wake up before the others returned.


----------



## Lwaxy (Jan 11, 2012)

A placid pony and a small sturdy horse to carry an armored man were quickly found in the stable, and a few minutes later, the borrowed horses paced towards the Razmiran temple. The paladin was mumbling under his breath here and there, not quite curses but definitely sounds of displeasure. His nightblindness made it hard for him to see anything beyond the sporadic gas lanterns lighting the almost completely abandoned streets. The chill of the night didn't agree much with him either. He supposed he would have to get used to things like these if he was to stick with this group, and he had a feeling that he would. 

The chaos at the temple was obvious from afar. City guards were moving towards the building, and to Bjön it seemed as if they were taking their orders from the Razmir priests, which made him frown. Almost every window was alight, and there was a small crowd of onlookers. They stood in the shadows and out of the way, likely to not rile up the followers of the Masked God. There was little noise, though, and the priests had their followers well under control as they walked through the streets, obviously searching for something or likely someone. 

"Are they l-looking for Teltz?" Mook wondered. 

"Not too likely. One escaped acolyte wouldn't cause a commotion like this, if at all." Bjön rode right in front of a group of city guards coming from the temple and announced himself as paladin, demanding to know what was going on. The guards seemed uncomfortable, but finally, they decided it could do no harm to tell. A theft, they explained, and the thieves escaped unseen. Then they hurried on before the dwarf could ask anymore, and maybe that was for the better, as they didn't need any extra attention. 

Near the temple, between two high buildings, the paladin dropped off his pony, and as Mook did the same he handed her the reins. "Try and find your wolf," he said. "I'll see what else I can find." 

Slightly annoyed that he would just leave her standing here, Mook tried to feel for Dadawin, but the wolf was already trotting towards her from the shadow of a bakery. The gnome crouched down to greet him, feeling his excitement. Not about anything he felt was dangerous, but because Samin and Zaza had been anxious. And there was the impression of someone else in his mind. 

Mook felt comfortable with Dadawin because he understood most of her thoughts. She didn't have to talk, which meant she didn't have to stutter. Sometimes when she actually used words, she did not stutter at all. But there was also the frustration of the bond's limitation, as she could not make heads or tails out of the wolf's messages right now. Someone with yellow skin? And fangs like Dadawin's? But, as the wolf seemed to think, mostly harmless. Feeling her emotions of needing to talk to her friends, the animal stepped a bit ahead, turning around. Mook didn't know if to follow; the ponies disliked the smell of the wolf and Bjön would expect her here. But then she decided that she would not be commanded around like that to begin with. Leaving the reins long so the scared mounts could keep some distance, she followed her companion. 

Samin stepped out of the shadows so suddenly that Mook almost attacked him. Out in the wild, she would have smelled him; in the city, there were so many scents, even at night, to mask what she knew that it would take her a long time to get used to it. "W-what's happening?" she asked, trying to to let her surprise show. 

"We're not so sure, but it is like a bee's nest over there. From what we heard from guards passing below, the temple has been robbed. Supposedly by some demon or the like." 

"Huh!" Mook scratched her head. "L-likely s-some exaggeration, r-rumors flying."

"Yeah, but I still worry. What if there was something evil in there? My da..."

"Oh, a-almost f-forgot to t-ell you! Your da is b-back at the inn, l-looks exhausted and s-sickly." Mook pointed vaguely back to where she had come from. "Cajun s-stayed with him and our p-p-paladin is trying to g-get m-more info." 

"Da is back?" A worried frown appeared on the three-quarter-elf's face. Then he relaxed. "If Cajun is there, good. But how did he get there? Did he say anything?"

"N-no, he didn't w-wake. W-e thought at f-first they are so t-troubled because he is g-gone b-ut B-bjön says that is not l-likely. And now they are l-looking for t-thieves."

"Yeah they wouldn't go all this crazy over one acolyte, I suppose, but Edawon is still inside. I wonder why da got out though, and..." Samin trailed off as a bunch of guards stopped some men coming home late from an inn, none of them sober, and started searching them. Probably just to have something to do. Samin stepped back into the shadows and Mook, keeping the ponies calm, and the wolf followed. 

When the guards were finally gone, Mook had come to a conclusion. "I g-guess your da wanted t-to give us the results o-of the investigation. M-maybe s-something has ha-happened to Edawon and h-e had to do s-something b-before they were allowed to g-go out on t-their own?"

"Yeah," Samin agreed. "All the more important that we get him out of there. I don't like all this."

"J-just how? D-doesn't l-look like even B-bjön will be of m-much help in all this chaos." Then the gnome remembered something. "Say, where i-is Z-zaza?"

Before Samin could answer that, the piercing cry of a female voice easily recognizable as Zaza's could be heard to the east. Mook's best friend let out a stream of cries for help, but before Mook could run off, Samin grabbed her Arm. "Ah, yes, that is part of the plan Kronk has come up with," he said with a sheepish grin. 

"W-who," Mook asked while quickly losing her patience with this matter, " is K-kronk?"





The attention of most of the city guard so eager to do the bidding of the Razmiran priests was immediately turned to the small alley where the cries for help originated. A small figure in a robe was carrying a young gnome girl away while holding a large dagger in one dark, scaled hand. The fact that the scene was started out right under the brightest lantern illuminating the sign of a female accessory shop seemed to do nothing to arouse suspicion. It seemed that most guards were happy to have an excuse to not participate in the Razmiran's search for a thief who might as well be a ghost. 

The noise several dozen guardsmen made while trying to follow the strange abductor and the supposed victim was incredible. Shouts of "cut them off," get the bows ready" and "inform the guard captain," could be heard among curses, promises of capture or worse and stomping feet and cluttering weapons. It took but a few moments to abandon the Razomirans and their temple, and only a few priests and their lackeys were left standing. And a certain paladin who had been insulted and accused to probably cover for the unknown thief by a Razmiran Herald. 

Bjön had been about to smack the insufferable lout of a herald back into his senses and out of his mask – if the guy had ever had some sense to begin with. The alarm cry and the following commotion made his well planned show of strength and authority unnecessary and confused him as well. The dwarf saw Zaza being abducted, but no Samin or wolf in sight. For a moment, he was not even sure it was really Zaza, but her high-pitched-when-wanting-attention voice was unmistakable. It however differed greatly from her help-me-I'm-scared voice, which he had heard twice so far – once on the board when she had fallen overboard and something in the river had tried to get at her and then in front of the inn when a wagon team nearly ran her over 2 days ago. She could not be in danger when she screamed like that, the dwarf concluded. Maybe the scaled villain was really Samin – did the boy know a spell who could do that? In any case, it was clearly meant as a distraction. 

The herald went to try and stop some of the guards from following the others, and the paladin decided it was time for some action on his part. There were more priest at the gatehouse, but none of them paid him any attention, they were looking to where Zaza and whoever carried her had vanished. More guards came out of the temple, following the calls to action from outside, and in the commotion Bjön slipped into the courtyard of the temple. Before anyone would notice him specifically, he made his way to the wide open temple entrance. He was thinking that this was not a way to do any investigation, that any potential thief would have an easier time escaping in all this chaos, but then he suspected that the seeming lack of discipline was rather a cover up. Something very important and very dangerous in the wrong hands must have been stolen, and someone was staging the chaos to prevent anyone from finding out what exactly it was. Very possible that they had already cut their losses and now tried to escape before any evidence could reach the wrong hands. This made him remember the bard and he grumbled at himself for not checking if Teltz had brought any evidence to bring the temple down. But it was as it was, and right now he needed to find whoever was in charge here. And Hest, of course. 



Back at the inn, Cajun had just changed the wet linen cloth on the bard's forehead when he saw that Teltz' eyes were open. For a moment, the bard's eyes were unfocussed, confusion obvious. Then the man remembered what had happened, at least part of it. "Bag... holding," he mumbled barely audible. "Ledgers. 3 of them. Get... to Reginar."

Cajun blinked, then he reached to the bag, putting his arm in and concentrating on 3 ledgers without being able to specify. But the bad obliged, although he had the feeling of a mocking presence in it. He ignored that and pulled the volumes of temple accounts out. When he flipped through, he immediately saw the relevance. Especially of one detailing the expedition to Kassen. He put that one aside – their quest was their own, in his mind, and had nothing to do with Reginar or the city. The other two though... They had to go to the Pathfinder, indeed. But where would he find the man at this time of night? Maybe Bjön would know, but Bjön was not here. He turned to ask Teltz, but the bard had already fallen unconscious again. 

How was he to know where Reginar was? The time to meet the man again was late tomorrow. But there was someone else who might be able to help. The inkeeper was a member of the city council, and from what they had heard in the common room, not at all a friend of the Razmirans. The half-orc made sure Teltz was comfortable, then took the information and went downstairs, hoping the owner of the place was around. 



Said halfling was listening to the upset discussions of the other acolytes at the moment. When they had arrived here, Krant had thrown a sorrowful look at his beer in the kitchen, and then walked away grumbling, instructing them not to go out or let anyone in. He had said he would make sure Teltz would be with them in a moment, but he had not returned yet, and from what the acolytes knew, he was rather about chastising the other priests and looking for someone to beat up, having  forgotten about the missing acolyte already. 

All of the acolytes had removed the masks. They often did that down here, as the masks were not quite so comfortable. This time, though, Edawon had the impression that most of them did not want to put the mask on again, much as if they could sense doom befalling those who would wear the mask after today. The halfling had the same feeling, especially as he was now as good as sure that the whole trouble must have something to do with the bard not reappearing. He was not sure what he thought of that. A part of him felt abandoned. But he had been left on his own a lot of times before and wouldn't even rate this as one of the more dangerous incidents. When push came to shove, he would certainly find a way to leave. 

"...should not be here when that happens," the dwarf was just saying. "Most of the townfolks will not be so supportive anymore if they do not feel they have to, and guess who will bear the brunt of their scorn? Not the priests, maybe they are already packing their bags." 

The others mumbled their agreement. "We can join up with another temple," the young half-elf suggested half-hearted. From his discussions with Evlar, Hest knew the young man had only joined up as a means of having a roof over his head and to get away from an abusive father. 

"We could get to the Masked God's own nation," the dwarf suggested. "That is what the priests will do."

"I don't know, if they are running, then something more must be up than pressing some money from the locals," one of the women said. "I for my part would rather go back to honest prostitution than being in danger of getting charged with who knows what." Her sister nodded. 

"What about we leave now?" Hest suddenly heard himself saying. "I doubt we'd be in too much trouble, we are just initiates, after all, and can claim to know little about anything but the basic doctrines of the faith."

"They'll stop us..."

"Who, the priests?" Hest felt his anger rising. "If it is true that they are preparing to abandon ship, if what has been stolen is so dangerous for the faith, then they will have no time to worry about us lowly acolytes now, will they?"

Evlar got up and walked to the door, hesitating only a moment before gripping the door knob. It didn't turn, though. None of them had noticed Krant locking the room; the key was on the outside to keep drunken senior members of the faith from raiding the kitchen at night but Krant was usually noisy about it. 

The whole of them went to the dining room and tried the other door leading to the hallway, but it, too, was locked. "So what now?" Evlar inquired. He panicked slightly at the idea of being locked in. "What if they burn the temple to destroy evidence or something? We'll die in here!"

"Silly boy," the dwarf harrumphed. "They will not burn a temple to Razmir! The situation cannot be that bad. We just..." He stopped himself, sniffing the air suspiciously. So did the others. There was no mistaking the smoke in the air, not yet very disturbing but clearly creeping in from under the door. Likely, it had been there for a while but had not reached the kitchen door yet. 

"We're doomed," Evlar muttered and went white as a sheet of fresh snow. 


Bjön had found no one but a few confused and relatively new followers of the faith in either rooms of the corridor leading into the temple. He told them to get out, and the axe in his hands made them not doubt the wisdom of his words. He asked where the acolytes were, but only the 5th of them managed to get out a coherent answer. "Downstairs." She seemed to have no idea if this was true right now, or only their usual place of living though. 

As he pushed open the doors to the main temple, a square looking man with a club and an iron mask covered in runes bumped into him. He had the garb of one of their priests, the first one Bjön had seen inside. "Halt! What is going on here? Where are the priests running this place?" the dwarf demanded to know. 

The answer was the club swinging towards his head. The priest didn't even seem to think twice about attacking whoever was in front of him. It took the dwarf a moment – and endless moment as it seemed to him – before he could react and dodge the attack. He could feel the rush of air over his head where a moment ago his head had been. Sliding backwards, he was already about to push the attacker back with his axe – he had no intention of killing someone who might have an answer for him – when his masked foe used the door to bump it in his face and propel him against the wall. Blinking lights appeared in front of the paladin's eyes for a moment, but then he shook it of and turned slightly angry. 

"Desna," he growled, staring at the advancing brute. "Let's do this!"

Any possible onlooker might have been surprised by the paladin's way of calling on his deity, but the priest swinging at him again didn't even notice anything. He chuckled under his mask, probably imagining the damage his hit would do to the paladin's skull. The club went off mark though, too much hurry had made the man miscalculate. Bjön, however, had not miscalculated. 

The axe undercut the cover of the priest and hit him right under his left shoulder. There was a sickening crunch as the axe cut through hide armor and bone. With a grunt, the priest came to a halt, but his unharmed right arm swung his club again as if he did not really feel the pain – which was likely true, Bjön realized. 

There was little time to free his weapon and not enough time to evade the blow. The club hit Bjön at the back of his left shoulder and took him off balance. The dwarf fell to the ground, barely catching himself before hitting the floor face first. Reflexively, he rolled around and tried to grab the advancing enemy's legs with his own, but the brute sidestepped his efforts. Even with the wound Bjön had caused, the priest' did not slow down. Not a very clever way to act, Bjön thought, but then, there were always the dumb ones. 

He had not lost grip of his weapon, so the dwarf rolled over his unharmed shoulder and used the momentum to hack at his foe's legs. It caught the left boot and sliced a deep gash into the priest's leg. Now the brute swayed, having trouble to control his movement. For the first time, the eyes in the mask stared at the injuries, seemingly having trouble to comprehend them. But instead of backing up, pure rage showed and with a battle cry – really more a battle grunt – he went forward again, his club about to come down hard on the head of the paladin. 

Again Bjön evaded by rolling around, but then his injured shoulder came into contact with the wall of the small corridor and for the first time he felt pain. The rush of battle had pushed the pain back until now, but that had ended with being trapped between the wall and the brute while still prone on the floor. Bjön began to wonder if this had been badly misjudged on his part and if his life would already end here. 

There was a blur of movement through the doors, and the eyes of the brute went wide under his mask. A second later, he fell forward, his neck at an awkward angle. On his back was a small robed figure, it's yellow, scaled hands still holding the neck of the dead villain. 

Bjön had time to recognize the hand as that of the supposed abductor of Zaza before he passed out. 



Zaza rushed through the temple, stumbling over tumbled over chairs and tables and once over a door torn from its hinges. She could tell there had been an argument between the leading priests – mainly because one of them was on the stairs to the upper level, staring at the ceiling with dead eyes while a large dagger was sticking out of his chest. The young halfling pushed the image aside and ran on, catching her breath. "Edawon?" she called again and again. "Teltz? Where are you guys?" 

She passed the mask robbed of its jewels and stopped. The quarters up here were more rich. She doubted they would house acolytes here. She had wasted time choosing the wrong place to check out. The basement it must be, then. But that was where the fire must have started. By now, the smoke was a lot more dense, almost as if someone had laid a smoldering fire with purpose instead of creating a blaze. Likely to give someone time to flee. Rushing back down the stairs, Zaza hesitated for a moment but could not quite get herself to take the dagger out of the dead man, even feeling the need for an additional weapon. 

Maybe they had taken the acolytes along. If so, they would have a completely different problem in finding and freeing them. But half down the stairs, she heard the muffled shouts of people locked behind one or more doors. Maybe more priests who had lost an argument, but it could also be who she was looking for. 

As they had entered through the southern doors, which had been abandoned but locked – it had taken her a minute to open them – they had noticed the smell of smoke and the emptiness of the building. They had also heard the sounds of a fight, and the kobold had send her to check for her missing comrades while he... well, she had no idea what he would be doing. Investigating battles could be dangerous, and she could have used the help. But nonetheless, she had found herself doing what he said. Again. 

The whole way back to the temple, through backyards, over fences and walls and once a short way under the road through a water drainage, she had been following him. Sure, he knew his way, but she had not only followed him in direction. For some reason, she had not even asked a question when he gave her orders to hide this and that way, or when to freeze and when to rush. He certainly knew how to hide. Maybe one had to, as a kobold. 

Someone was now banging against a door to her right. For a moment, Zaza wondered why it was that most people didn't bother to have the tools to get themselves out of such a situation. "I'm here," she coughed, only now noticing how much smoke there was. It smelled like incense and wet clothes mixed with charred meat. She didn't want to think about that part. 

Luckily, it took only a moment to unlock the door. Zaza had no time to even put her tools away before the group of acolytes stormed out. The only halfling in the group prevented her from being run over. "Zaza!" he smiled. "How did you get in?"

"Through the doors, what do you think?" She turned and ran in front of him. "The rats have abandoned the sinking ship, so to say, and have laid fire to it, too. No one to stop us really."

"So Samin is here, too? Did you get to inform the others?" Hest had no trouble keeping up as they followed the rest up the stairs and out of the area with heavy smoke. It was hotter now, the fire seemed to have gotten to a part of the temple where it could produce real flame. 

"Not sure where Samin is, last I saw him he was waiting for the others to arrive." Our of breath and feeling dizzy, the girl arrived at the top of the stairs. "Why wasn't Teltz with you? Where is he?"

"He went off to check the rest of the temple out, seems he has invisibility spells. He didn't come back and the chaos started after he left." Edawon grabbed Zaza's arm and rushed her along to the main portal. "I have a feeling he was somehow the cause of it."

"Wouldn't wonder," Zaza mumbled, then she stopped Hest. "There was a fight before, in that direction."

Edawon listened but couldn't hear anything. "Whatever it was, it seems to be gone now. We need to get out of here and find the others, see if Teltz is with them."

In the corridor, Hest recognized a dead on the floor man as the acolyte master, but decided to not waste any thoughts on the brute. He most likely deserved this fate more than any other of the priests he had seen. 

A yellow reptile face popped out from behind the doors to the courtyard. "I see you found one of your friends. The one named Teltz is safe, so that paladin of yours assured me."

Edawon almost fell over his own feet. "A... a kobold? You know it? Who is it?"

"I am a he," Kronk said, sounding slightly insulted. "Can we do the small talk later? I was told there are lots of flames in the back of the building now."

"I'm not arguing with that," the halfling mumbled as they walked out to a courtyard full with angry townspeople and guards. Bjön was sitting on the steps to the portal, looking slightly worse for the wear. He waved at them and got up, not looking all that steady. 

"Big oaf in there knocked him out," Kronk explained. "I was there just in time. As usual, Kronk to the rescue." The kobold chuckled like it was a joke only he could understand. 

"Zaza! Ed!" Samin pushed through the crowd, smiling brightly. Further back, they could see Mook and the wolf, just out of the crowded area. 

Bjön beckoned them to the courtyard. "They were waiting for you to come out," he explained. "Looks like they do not plan on fighting the fire, no buildings next to the temple to catch fire and they just want it burned down and gone for good. The city's council guards arrived, with order to arrst every priest´they can find. Looks like Cajun alerted them with information Teltz brought with him."

"How did he..." Edawon stopped himself. "Later," he then sighed. "I need a beer and something good to eat and a good night's rest." Which was something they could all agree upon.


----------



## Lwaxy (Jan 14, 2012)

Bjön's Pathfinder Diary


27th of Lamashan

On board of the Black Mist, on route to the so-called Isle of Terror


Events have gotten hectic after the temple of Razmir burned down. Most priests have been captured trying to sneak out of the city, but a few of them remain missing. No doubt they will sooner or later resurface somewhere, but that will hopefully be no concern of ours. 

After the temple was destroyed, no one asked too many questions as to how we got the information, in was enough for them to know we had infiltrated them to find something belonging to us. Even after we discerned the destination of the cult's travels and her purpose,  the Kassen people were not willing to let the priestess Iramine get away with their property. The fact that said woman is also trying to cause more problems by finding riches for her so-called god played a secondary role. One could say they are simple minds focused on just what is important to them, but I do not think so. It just seems to be that the whole scale of the situation hasn't penetrated their backwater educated minds yet. 

Except for Teltz and Samin. I wish I knew what was up with the two of them. It is not for me to pry in their affairs though. I have made certain no evil emanates from either of them, and that is enough for me. 

We had to leave Teltz behind at the inn. He has not yet recovered from what has occurred in the temple. Samin wanted to stay with him, but we convinced him we needed another magic user – however inexperienced – and especially his hawk familiar on this journey. The sorcerer the government has sent with us – Brenn – doesn't inspire a lot of confidence in me. He is a tall, pale fellow who, despite the lack of pointed ears, seems to have more elven blood than Samin and talks less than Mook. I haven't been able to determine what his spells are, but we are sure to find out. 

Now Kronk the Monk, the kobold that came to my rescue in the temple, is another riddle to me. He won't say why Zaza is so important to him. He has come up with some herbal remedy to allow the halfling to sleep at least while on the water, but she still can't keep any food in. I will watch the kobold carefully. 

We boarded the Black Mist 5 days ago, in pursuit of the Witch's Stitches, a slow riverboat which may not even have made it to the isle. While this would solve the main problem, it would also mean the Kassen people would not get their amulets back, and I would be sorry about this. They have done a lot considering most of them – Teltz not included – are more inexperienced than I am and would certainly deserve to be once more welcomed as the heroes at home. 

As our ship is not made for the sea, we are traveling along the southern shore of Lake Encarthan. Tomorrow, we are to turn north, into the open sea. The weather does not make Captain Walren or his new helmsman, an old ex-pirate named Mabon, very hopeful. We might have to sit tight for a day or two while the weather cleans up, despite our need for haste. 

At least until now, the journey was uneventful, with the exception of a dire crocodile and an angry water elemental. 



"How is the w-weather up there?" 

Samin stopped staring ahead into the storm and looked down into Mook's grinning face. "Same as down there, I suppose," he smiled. "How is Zaza?" 

"She s-stopped f-feeding the f-fish but I think it's just b-because there is no more f-food in her," Mook replied. The weather had cleared up for the most part, only a thin veil of rain was coming down from above, and the ship was barely moving up and down anymore. Yet Zaza's disagreement with being on water was as bad as ever.


The journey north towards the isle had been brutal. They had been loocked up in the belly of the boat for their own safety, except for Konk who seemed to know a little about sailing and had already shown his balance and reflexes were good enough to help the sailors. Strangely enough, both the captain and Mabon liked the little guy, despite the captain explaining that, generally speaking, he hated kobolds as they had once destroyed his family's hold. 


"That's Aroden's Landing," Samin said, pointing to the small halfmoon bay just ahead. "I don't know how I feel going onto an island, one with such a bad reputation at that. If anything happens to the boat we can' t get off anymore."

"Or if w-we are too late," Mook sighed. "10 d-days the captain g-gives us. S-seems like not m-much t-time."

"Well, he can't wait forever." Samin pointed to the clouds over the isle. "Negative energy storms. I have read all the information Reginar gave us before we left. Part of me thinks it was not such a good idea to follow this priestess."

"A-and the other half?"

The thee-quarter-elf smiled widely. "The other half is all excited about adventure, finally doing what my da used to do when he was younger."

"Your f-father went on qu-quests and s-some such?" Mook had suspected this, as had most in Kassen, but the bard had enver talked about it. 

"Yeah, well, not sure if you could call it quests. He used to be a traveling bard and encountered a few things over time." 

The Black Mist went into the bay, and the storms on the isle seemed even more violent from here. Ewem, the deckhand, and Kronk were already working on preparing the old rowboat to get ashore. The others were gathering around, Zaza half carried by Cajun and the wolf whining pitifully. 

They had some trouble all fitting into the boat. Mabon and Captain Walren too it upon themselves to transfer them, Mabon bailing water out of the boat the whole way, commenting about bad seamanship, while Walred was whistling and grinning. Everyone was relieved to have solid ground under their feet again, despite the grim looking landscape. Samin was especially happy to get his hawk's claws out of his shoulder pads. The dwarf captain reminded them about the 10 days he would wait, and the two fires they were to lit if they wanted to be picked up. "Just t' be sure no cultist tricks us," he explained again. "I wish you all the luck of Golarion in your pursuit."

Not too long later, the party was watching them row back to the boat. "I guess this is where trouble truly begins," Cajun said in a low voice, staring at the stormy weather and the ruins of what looked like a former keep – Fort Landing. In party, sand had gone up to about 30 feet at the sides of the remaining walls. Wind, sand, and storms have scoured away anything organic and left behind a sandblasted set of interconnected walls that now formed a sort of ruined maze.

Edawon Hest found the first camp of the cultists inside those ruins. When the others followed his calls, they also found 2 graves ringed with stones near a wall. "Not good," Hest shook his head. "While it means less of them, it also means this place has the right name."

"How long ago have they been here?" Zaza, still pale and weak, wondered.

"Hard to say, but it sure was more than a day ago," Hest replied, studying the campsite. 

"We shouldn't stay here," Bjön worried. "There is enough light of day left to follow their trail and we have little time. They did leave a trail, no?" 

Hest nodded. "A rather easy to read one. They moved east from here, and I agree, let's move away from here."

East proved to be swampy area. The map Reginar had given Bjön proved accurate enough. The group stayed to the north of the swamp and mostly on dry ground. Dadawin and Wilbur were both alarmed about something that seemed to follow them, but nothing was visible. "Some s-ort of w-wolves," Mook said at one point. "N-not normal ones, he is v-very worried about t-them." 

"Do not worry about them," Brenn suddenly spoke. "Animals, no matter what kind, so not attack where I am present."

The others exchanged looks and shrugged; while curious, they had given up asking the sorcerer any questions. His statement did little to stop them from worrying, but nothing attacked and their speed was good despite Zaza's incomplete recovery. A few hours into their walk, close to dark, they saw the first example of what negative energy storms could do. Some sort of lightning struck a tree a distance away, and it crumbled to ashes just like that. 

Nightfall brought the problem of setting up camp. Using any trees as shelter did not seem wise after what they had witnessed earlier and given the violent bursts of wind almost knocking them down in irregular intervals, it made little sense to put up the canopy. Hurdled in their blankets in what seemed the middle of nowhere, they didn't get much rest – except, of course, for Cajun, who snored like a bear. Brenn took the first watch and Bjön the second, but asides from twisted sounds like the howl of wolves but way more evil, which made Dadawin howl back in anger a few times, nothing happened. 

The morning was met with more winds and strange lightning from the massive clouds overhead. As quickly as they could, they made breakfast and were on their way again. A slight depression settled in, seemingly affecting everyone but the half-orc and Brenn. Brenn mentioned something about orc heritage probably making Cajun immune to some of the effects of the place. 

Nothing happened the next day, except them finding another camp of the Razmirans the next day early afternoon. This one was under some high and strong trees, and the group decided to camp here, too. Zaza nursed a bumped head – the cursed wind had blown her over a few times – and Cajun had a scratch on his arm where a branch had hit him during one of those violent outbursts of wind. The next morning arrived much as the last one, with no one but Cajun truly rested. 

They crossed a body of black, foul water early that morning and followed the south shore of the lake it came out of. The Whispering River and the Whispering Lake, so the dwarf told them. Close to what must be midday – hard to say with the sun barely visible and the isle in a twilight – they reached the second camp of the cultists. At first it looked as if it also was their last. Bodies were lying around, partly eaten by scavengers. They counted 9  Razmirans and 2 strange looking lizardfolk-like beings. They were black, eyes and scales alike. Here and there they spouted weird mutations. The high priestess was not among them though.

"Definitely lizardfolk," Hest asserted. "The negative energy here must have twisted them."

"Twisted them something good," Cajun agreed, examining the morningstars and wooden shields the creatures had dropped. "I would not want to battle with them if I could avoid it."

"You and me both, lad," Brenn growled and grabbed his weird combination of quarterstaff and spear harder. "But it is very likely we will have to fight them." His eyes went over Zaza and Mook, as if judging their battle worthiness. Mook stared back in defiance, while Zaza tried a weak grin. 

"Those morningstars are poisoned," Bjön noted. "Likely from the waters of the Whispering Lake." Said lake, he had explained to them on the way, was pure poison, which was easy to guess as it was all black and thick. It was almost like negative energy gone solid. It was, to their judgement, quite stupid to make camp here, but maybe the Razmirans had had no choice. Hest soon found the trail of the surviving cult members. 

Zaza was already going through the dropped gear of the cultists. At the edge of the camp, she gathered her findings. "12 daggers, 7 short swords,  2 rapiers looking like masterwork to me." Cajun nodded at her questioning look. "Crossbow and 12 bolts, that's mine seeing how it is halfling sized and I lost mine when the water elemental attacked. I'd also like to keep the daggers." No one argued with that.  "Other than that, some masks no one needs, tools for thieves – mine, too, I insist – and some money. 2 smokesticks, 2 sunrods and some potions. 

Samin examined the potions. "They are even labeled," he grinned. "Healing potions, all 4 of them."

"Now that's nice," Bjön said, pointing to the dead. "Didn't help them much though."

"They look like their attackers had tried to tear them apart," Kronk mused. "Doesn't look like beings who can be reasoned with."

Cajun was relieving one of the dead men of a half donned leather armor. "Looks better than mine," he commented. Seeing Zaza's frozen look and Mook' shaking her head, he stopped for a moment. "What? Do you think this guy can still use it? It is not damaged or even dirty unlike mine."

"Never mind," Zaza replied. "You are right, I just don't think I will ever get used to having dead people around me."

Dadawin suddenly growled, and Wilbur, circling a few meters over their heads – any higher and the wind would blow him away – screeched a warning, too. Brenn whirled around first and got into a defensive stance. "I suppose we will see if those lizards can be reasoned with or not," he said calmly. 

It was 4 of them, one of them looking to be tougher and taller than the others. Their chief, they realized. He snarled something in Draconic and waved for the other two to follow in his attack. 

Samin frowned, and then he seemed to change somehow. Some of them had seen this once before, in the Crypt of the Everflame, although then it had not been so obvious. The effect spread to his childhood friends again. Bjön noticed the subtle change and wondered what they would do this time to avert hostilities. He was, as before, unaffected. 

A stream of words came from the young mage no one but Kronk could understand. The kobold seemed a little surprised at the use of Draconic language but just watched. Bjön looked at Cajun, and the half-orc, hammer raised, shrugged. He had quickly donned the leather armor and looked quite different in it. He also had, the paladin noticed, opened his pouch for a quick access to his alchemical supplies should they become needed. Brenn, too, had his pouch open to get at his spell components, and Bjön himself had a tight grip on his axe. Zaza and Mook had taken position behind the wolf.

The three-quarter-elf nodded to the words of the lizardfolk. Invaded territory, wanting to destroy all the invaders. The usual, he thought. "We apologize for not noticing this is your territory," he replied while the lizards were still advancing. "You killed some of those we follow. See they invaded our territory, too, and stole from us, so we had to keep on their trails. We would have asked your permission but we didn't know about you." 

Samin could not fail to notice the Razmiran masks the black scaled beings had taken from the dead. From a crude necklace over shield ornament to the chief wearing one of the masks over his face – quite an ill-fitting match. The chief stopped right in front of Samin, and his morningstar hit the ground with a thud, causing sickly dust to rise. 

"We laid ambush for those with the masks," he hissed. "But in the glorious battle, they used foul tricks and killed many of our numbers. They must all die."

"So they must," Samin said, trying to make his voice a bit darker. "They stole from us and killed some of us when they were in our territory. We hunt them to get back what is ours. If there was any sign that this area is yours, we might have been able to go around it, but we could not know." Thinking back, there had been some signs the area was inhabited but they had paid little attention. "Maybe the masked people destroyed your border marks. You want to kill us for doing what you would do as well? You would follow them anywhere, and so do we. If you really must do so, let us catch the transgressors first."

This irritated the chief visibly. "They are ours to kill., We track them. We don't need you."

"How many more people do you want to lose to their tricks of magic? We have magic, too. We can probably defeat you. But if you think it through, we should probably work together." 

"We don't need others to help us. We are strong," The chief lifted his morningstar again and came a step closer. "You, you are first to die." 

"I don't think so," Samin replied. "It is much more likely we will kill you all. Then who is there to punish the masked ones?"

The chief grunted. "If the maked ones are dead, we will fight," he announced. "And if you fail to kill them, we will fight them. Maybe they kill you first and we don't have to fight you." His pronunciation indicated he meant it as mockery, but it was clear to Samin that the chief was not so sure if he could take them on, or would have a lot more luck against the cultists before reinforcements arrived. 

"Get more of your people, then, and follow us," Samin said, wondering about himself before the words were out. "Then you can make sure it gets done."

"And leave you out of sight? We are not stupid." Again, the morningstar crashed into the dusty poisoned soil. Somewhere close by, a flash of negative energy hit a rock as if the pronounce the chief's words. 

"Where would we go?" Samin asked calmly. "This is an island. We all can't swim very well. We do not have a ship." A half truth, but it worked. The chief grunted again, then all of a sudden turned and waved the others to follow. As he and his men broke noisily into the vegetation, Samin noticed everyone was staring at him. 

"What?" he asked. "Kronk has taught me Draconic while we were bored on the journey."

"Yes, but..." the monk scratched his scaly head. "I have never seen anyone learning a language this quick. I was already surprised on the boat but seeing this now..." He chuckled, suddenly like any other kobold. "Ah, it got us out of trouble, it did, so I am not complaining."

"Add to that," Brenn pointed out the much more perculiar matter, "their sudden amiability. Seriously, from what we know, you can't reason with those half mad things. At all. And you got them to... do what, exactly? Leave us alone?"

"Not quite," Samin said, wondering where to start his explanation of the negotiations. He had taken matters much into his own hands – or mouth, at that – and part of him couldn't understand it. He knew he was good at negotiating, but it was almost as if the words had come on their own. As if he had just been the listener. Before he could continue, Cajun rescued him from his confusion and embarrassment. "Do we burn the bodies or just kick them into the poisoned waters?" 

"Burn them," the paladin decided. "They were, after all, sentient beings and some of them might not have been beyond redemption." 

Samin sighed at those words. It would be difficult to make the dwarf see the necessity to kill the cultists – or let the lizardfolk kill them – if any of them would surrender. And him thinking like that shocked himself. A few weeks ago, he would have balked at the idea of coming to a place like this, and now he was acting like... 

Like his father had before, he thought.

Bjön and Cajun set to gathering the bodies while Kronk gathered wood and foliage dry enough to make a pyre. With the lizardfolk in the area, they doubted any other sentient being would follow the smoke, and animals would be driven off at the same time. Bjön was still doubtful of the sorcerer's claim to be able to hold off any animal attackers, but they would already be gone before the fire burned down in any case. 

As the fire was burning – or rather smoldering - there was suddenly a warning from Dadawin. The wolf sniffed the air in confusion and did a single bark – a sound, so Mook assured, only heard when he was very confused. A few minutes later, the source for the confusion appeared. 

Emerging from the nearby brush with his arms raised high and bearing no obvious weapons was a human man, about six feet tall, with a tangle of long, dirty red hair and a long red beard, wearing tattered, hole-ridden clothes soaked through with mud and stained black in many places. Even before he got close, his stench preceded him. It was not only as though he hadn’t bathed in years, but that he seemed to have actually gone out of his way to cover himself in the most horrible smells the Isle of Terror had to offer: a blend of rotten eggs, human waste, and decaying organic matter. An arrow was lodged in the back of his right leg, but seemed to cause him no pain as neared the group. Suddenly he stopped. His eyes went wide and he loudly exclaimed “I found you!”


----------



## Lwaxy (Jan 15, 2012)

Bjön's Pathfinder Diary

2nd of Neth

Isle of Dread, marching east on the trail of the Razmirans


After the encounter with the twisted lizardfolk, Samin tried to explain what he had done. He seemed to be unsure as to where his sudden luck in negotiations came from. Brenn said he had noticed magic around him similar to that of a domination spell. This confused Samin even more, and he assured us he knew nothing of such magic. The best he can do is charm someone, and it only works, as he says, when he is in the right mood. Magic works differently for him than for most people. It would be a good idea to present him to a group of experienced mages eventually, to help find out what is going on with him.

He proved his weird skill once more, after which I asked him to please not do it again. He says he can't control it though, and I am inclined to believe him. The encounter he displayed his strange ability again was curious. We ran into a former Pathfinder who seems to be the last survivor of his team. Dusan Dremlock, a deranged ranger – Zaza laughed at that expression for a good hour. 

From what we could gather, he is here for almost 10 years, an awful long time. Anyone would have lost their mind all alone in this place. He could barely talk and seemed to have a hard time finding the words for some things. Apparently, he used to talk to himself until he found it just attracted unwanted attention. Here is what he told us, in his own words: 

 “Venture-Captain Tree Roots said we should come to… island to island and then we left the city and swam north, keeping abreast of each other to fend off fish and then we swam and swam and we swam for years and came here to the island and we went inside the island and saw its heart and it was black and we knew it was black and we came out and we were black and then the blackness consumed them, ate them alive, ate me alive, and then we were all dead all dead all dead and I was dead and they were dead, and they were dead and I wasn’t dead—do you see? I was alive! I was alive and they were dead and then I lived here and I lived in a tree and a cave and in the ruins and I saw, I saw, I saw things, and then the men in masks came and they fought the lizards and many died on both sides, many died, oh yes, many died and they did not get back up they were not dead like me and they headed to the doors, to the many doors by the river, the many doors where I slept once when the storms reached down and grabbed me. They are there now, they try to open the doors come with me, yes, come come come with me. I can show you where they are.”

Those were his precise words. The ramblings of a lost soul, yet there is definitely some truth in there. What does he mean with dead, and not dead? Is he some sort of undead? He doesn't seem to be, but then, anything seems possible in this place. 

When he smiled at us with his missing teeth, he looked somewhat innocent, but when he pointed east and said he'd take us to the men in the masks, he looked rather devious. As I gathered, he tried to talk to the cultists, but they tried to kill him. That is when he got shot with an arrow which is still in his right leg. It is infected and smelly but he seems not to notice. Is this the first time he got seriously wounded? Does he not know he will die if he does not take care of it?

He wants to help us if we take him with us when we leave. I think that is something we would have done anyway. Yet, I am suspicious about him. He seems not to be a safe person to have around, and the smell he emits is unbelievable. He smears himself with all sort of things, from his own waste to the stinky soil of the swamps. He resisted any attempts at cleaning him up, claiming the stink is what kept him alive all the years. This makes no sense, and what is worse, he tries to make us cover ourselves in stink as well. None of us will comply, especially not Zaza who has a really weak stomach and can't even stand the sight of the guy. 

Dusan calls Xin-Grafar, the place we are looking for, the City of Golden Death. I am sure it is a good description of it. My hope is that the cultists get taken care of without our help, but my experience up to know makes me believe this will not be so. 

We have been led to the cave this unfortunate survivor has lived in for some time now. It smells as bad as he does. He took some food from there in a half rotten backpack and strapped on a broken sword. Our offers for better equipment were denied as well as the offer to help with his wound. 

Brenn went deeper into the cave to check it out, likely hoping for any journal or other information on what happened to the expedition so long ago. When he was out of sight for a few minutes, the twisted wolves that had followed us for so long finally attacked. It seems to be true that he can hold the wildlife off. We managed to defeat all 4 of them. Good that is was a small pack, though. Cajun used alchemist's fire on them, which was a great help. I am not too comfortable with alchemical things, but in the right hands, it truly makes a difference. 

The ramblings of Dusan can get on everyone's nerves, but he helped us to avoid some poison plants and also warned us about the deadly mists from the Whispering Lake. I would have missed the danger, and it seems the others didn't think about it either. The lunatic is useful to have around for now. 

The weather has taken a turn for the worse. The relentless storms from the mountains so aptly called The 3 Furies has picked up; and it can even topple over a whole pack of these wolf-like mutations still following us at a distance. It blew them all around, and would Brenn not have used some rooting spell on all of us, we would have been blown away, too. There was only one of those very bad blasts yet, but I have a feeling there are more to come. If that happens, I only hope Brenn has enough of those spells available to prevent us from being gone with the wind. 

We didn't gain any ground. The trail of the cultists twisted and turned a bit, and we found is heading more to the north, between what is called the Whitewood and Shadow's heart, two forests likely aptly named. I am happy enough we do not have to go in there. 

The lizardfolk are following us. Both the hawk and the wolf make them out periodically. Right now, the hawk can't fly in the storms and has to be carried by Samin, which causes problems with the young man's health. This is the first I ever saw a wizard being allergic to his own familiar. He can't stop sneezing, and his eyes water so badly he can barely see. Cajun is constructing a shoulder pad for himself right now, so he can carry Wilbur in his friend's place. 



The entrance to Xin-Grafar  finally stood ahead. Two enormous stone doors, each thirty feet high and fifteen feet wide, covered in carved, vertical wavy lines, with the left-hand door standing open, a complex internal mechanism of worked stone and metal clockwork gears visible along the door’s side about halfway up. The doors wee recessed about ten feet into the side of a large, grass-covered hill and tilt slightly inward. A firepit smoldered beside the right-hand door, tiny tendrils of smoke still curling skyward from its coals.

Exhausted and dirty and scratched up, the party stared at the entrance. It was early afternoon, and the day had been hell. Storms had almost blown them away, they had had to rescue Bjön from a quicksand hole, the negative energy storm had hit close to Cajun and Dadawin and made the use of all the healing potions necessary plus exhausted Mook's healing magic. Then a tall branch had hit Cajun just before the storms had finally relented. Luckily, his new armor had protected him for the most part. Samin had used up all of his magic to provide flight over another quicksand hole – the way around would have taken hours – and Brenn had called lightning down on one of the lizardfolk who, maybe to make a name for himself or to drive a point home, had tried to kidnap him. 

Additionally, whatever magic Brenn had used to hold off wildlife had run out just a few hours ago. More wolves had come at them and a creature vaguely resembling a badger. The latter managed to bite Kronk in the tail, but luckily, this did not have any poisenous effect. Right now, everyone was too drained to be happy to arrive. 

Despite his exhaustion, Edawon immediately went to check out the cultist camp. Two more graves were nearby. The halfling shook his head. "No more than a dozen of them left, I reckon," he said wearily. "Still more than enough to be concerned about."

"We are all too tired. We need to rest." Cajun voiced the obvious. "It does not matter how early or late it is in the day, but we can't go on like this." 

"Is this city underground?" Zaza wondered, staring at the gates and the hill. There was a looming dark behind the doors. 

"Underground, yes, all dark place, dark as in no light, nono, no light," Dusan chuckled. "Never go in there, I don't, not anymore, oh no. Can't find stinky things in there either. But the masked ones, they are gone in, you see? Must follow, you, go hurry."

Mook sighed. "W-we a-are n-not g-going i-in t-there w-without r-rest." Her stutter was worse when tired. 

"Ah, maybe we should not stay out in the open..." Samin begun and blushed when everyone stared at him. "It is just... well, maybe behind the gates it is safer? The cultists must have either triggered or disarmed any traps, no?"

"Yeah, and sometimes traps reset themselves," Zaza groaned. "Remember when we found that cave of the gold digger when we were barely old enough for school? Anf that was a harmless trap, all in all." 

Bjön considered Zaza for a long moment. "Would you be able to find such traps?"

The halfling hesitated. "It is not like I've had any experience beyond that cave, and the few books I could read about adventures," she explained. "And the stories of that one group of adventurers - fortune makers, as they called themselves -  coming through Kassen some time ago. But I can find the obvious, and I know that just because someone else came through fine it does not mean the next group will."

"We are staying out here, then," the paladin decided. Brenn looked like he was about to say something, but then decided otherwise. He was older than the dwarf, which sometimes made him try to take on the leadership role in the group, but by now he was beginning to understand that not only did the rest of the group trust Bjön, but the paladin was beginning to get a grasp on leadership. 

Asides from the howling of twisted wolves, nothing happened for the rest of the day and the night. Their meal was as simple as always – they didn't dare to touch anything the deranged Pathfinder had. They would soon be hard pressed for water, though, as the few sources they had come upon could not be used without purifying, and there was no one to do that here. 

Before the dim sun came up, they had their usual breakfast and went on preparing for the day. Samin looked grim, probably worried about his spell selection and his spontaneous spells. They knew he had tried to learn a few new spells from a spellbook found with the dead cultists, but how effective he had been, no one had dared to ask. 

Without the negative energy storms, temperature had dropped considerably, making them feel the onset of winter. It was curious that the unnatural storms should have the effect of keeping the cold out, but no one was complaining. It was better to be cold than live in fear of those lightning strikes and gusts of wind. 

Their mad guide did not dare to come inside, saying he had brought them here and would wait outside until they came out, dead or alive. Shaking their heads, they continued their journey. 

Behind the gates they carefully entered proved to be a seemingly endless, winding tunnel leading downwards. There were no more dead cultists, no traps and no warnings – it simply seemed to be the road to a normal city. This was likely misleading, so no one dared to let their guard down and they advanced slowly. Finally, after hours of threading carefully and looking out for surprises, the long, sloped tunnel leading down to the city suddenly opened into a large rectangular room. The floor here was sand and showed signs of recent foot traffic. The walls were all painted in enormous murals that depict a city in its prime. The south wall showed hundreds of men and women in a marketplace, trading everything from fruit and livestock to construction materials such as brick and wood. The north wall depicted row upon row of unarmed, uniformed men standing large in the foreground and growing smaller as their ranks disappear over the horizon toward the far right of the painting - a horizon over which an enormous golden sun was rising. The east wall was a huge map that portrayed a city constructed of three concentric circles and divided by canals of pure, crystal-clear water that flows from the city’s innermost ring. Below this map someone had scrawled numerous notes and mathematical calculations in charcoal. Finally, the west wall depicted a leader of some sort, crowned by a golden sun and speaking before a huge crowd of people wearing white shawls and golden togas.

"So, we are finally here," Brenn said. 

Zaza was about to make a snide remark at the sorcerer for stating the obvious – she didn't like the man at all – when Bjön took out his journal and began to copy the map as best as he could. "Best to use the resources offered," he commented. "We can wait for a moment longer before we enter." 

There was no arguing the logic of that, so the others decided to rest for a moment. Samin took the time to decipher the charcoal scribbles.  "It speaks of  the city being made into what it is now, from a city originally called Kestrillon," he read. It was hard to read the words, while they were in Common, the writer had a bad handwriting. "Something about a Jewel of Everlasting Gold, and fire, floods, and molten gold. And those calculations..."

Bjön lifted his head from his copying work. "Can you identify what they mean?" 

After a long moment, Samin nodded. "It calculates the amount of gold needed to flood the city with molten gold to a height of 40 ft and how long it takes to do so. Supposedly, it takes 73 hours and 20 minutes after the gates have been opened to flood the first two rings." Samin glanced at the map. "And it takes 25 hours to drain. Why would anyone want to flood a city with molten gold? Oh and there is a note saying that this magic jewel can only start but not reverse the process." 

"After the g-gates have been o-opened?" Mook piped in. "B-but the c-cultists have a-already opened it!"

Edawon checked the ground for the cultist's traces again. "They didn't bother to look at the map or the notes, they just went in. Maybe they know about this, though, their leader having been here before."

"Can we know how long ago they have entered?" Brenn asked in a tense voice. 

"No, sorry," Edawon shook his head. He looked even smaller than usual admitting this. "But they were not much ahead of us anymore when we arrived at the camp outside, maybe 6 or 7 hours."

"I'm almost done," Bjön mumbled. 

A few minutes later, the party went on. A large doorway passed from the room of murals into the city proper. A lightly glowing green fluorescence emanated from the cavern roof above, illuminating a once-great city now reduced to ash and rubble but whose ruins were coated entirely in gold. A large, covered bridge across a canal glowed white-hot and emits a searing, golden light. In the center of the bridge stood a man-shaped statue covered in fine gold plating, its carved face eerily human-like.

"A construct," Samin recognized. "Likely a mindless guard."

"And there were others," Cajun pointed. The inside of the bridge was visible enough to note two piles of melted gold and other metals, about the volume of the statue they were facing. "Guess the Razmirans took care of them." 

"Too bad they didn't get them all," Kronk mused. "But they are obviously defeatable."

"How does one defeat a gold statue?" Zaza wanted to know. 

"Maybe we don't have to," Samin pondered. "We have 3 potions of invisibility, an oil of invisibility, a potion of gaseous form and I can fly and have up to 3 of you flying as well. That would take up much of the magic I do not have to prepare though."

"That l-leaves out D-dadawin, he w-wouldn't know how to fly and m-making him invisible s-pooks him," Mook pointed out. "We tried that a y-year or s-so ago."

"Ah, yeah about that... maybe we should have the wolf wait here?" Bjön suggested. 

"W-why? H-he is in n-no more d-danger than the r-reest of us," Mook complained. "A-and he might be m-more in danger out h-here."

Bjön didn't want to point out the difficulty a canine could create in climbing up walls and other situations, but he had to admit Dadawin might also be helpful. "Could Mook carry him while flying?" 

"No, she would not be able to carry more than she usually could, but Cajun or you probably could. Not sure if you would be able to carry Dadawin around normally." 

Cajun didn't hesitate and grabbed the wolf, lifting him up without difficulty. "I'd not be able to carry him far, but over the bridge, sure." 

Dadawin whined and protested, and Mook had to calm him down. Bjön thought for a moment, then he nodded. "Fine, the fight would probably take too much time anyway. But to save a potion, and because we might need to use gaseous form later, I'll carry Zaza, she is lightest." The paladin had done so for a short distance before, and in the storm. "No need to waste precious magic if we do not have to."

"And maybe Brenn can carry me?" Kronk suggested. He was, after all, not that heavy either.

"W-while at it, I'm n-not heavy either, so y-you could c-carry me," Mook pointed at Samin. "S-saves us a-another p-potion."

Samin seemed to calculate her weight and his strength. He wasn't that weak, and had carried her here and there before. It would work for just over the bridge, so he nodded. 

"Aw, no one to carry me," Edawon mocked. "At least I carry my own weight." He chuckled at his own joke, but it sounded like he was trying to mask his fear. He was bulkier than any of the other small people in the group so carrying him would not have been so easy for anyone. 

Samin handed Edawon one of the invisibility potions. "We'll fly over first. Right over the bridge. Then you can come follow us. You'll see where we land and can probably find us quicker."

"Right," Edawon mumbled. "Hurry up."

The first ring of the city was elevated compared to the entrance, and the other two rings elevated in turn, with the gold flow staying at the lowest level. While his companions flew over and up to the other side – he noticed Samin struggling a bit – Edawon pondered all the wealth in this place. Was all the gold even real? What he could do with it if he had access to it. Fighting slavery would be so much easier... 

A call from the other side woke him from his musings. Cajun was shouting for him to hurry up. The construct had not noticed or cared about them. Wilbur was circling high over the city already to watch out for problems.  The halfling nodded to himself and drank the potion. As he disappeared from sight, he made haste to cross the bridge, carefully avoiding the statue and the rubble inside. He still made a trail and caused some dust to raise, but the statue didn't care for either. "I'm here," he whispered as he arrived where the others where.

"Don't be so dramatic," Zaza chuckled. "Wow, I can't believe we are inside. Really inside a legendary city!"

Bjön was staring at the map, seemingly oblivious to the still invisible halfling's arrival or Zaza's enthusiasm. "I wish we could wait a day and renew your spell power, so we could fly in over the molten gold canal to the inner city, if you could prepare an additional spell. But with the gold flood probably to come – if the mechanism still works, we will not have time for that, thus need to make it through the city."

Cajun scratched his head. "Will going through the city really be quicker? The cultists are ahead if us and probably left some nasty surprises, as they are expecting at least the lizardfolk after them."

"Talking of those – where are they? I thought I heard them following us into the tunnel." Brenn looked back at the city entrance, but nothing moved over there.

"We'll worry about that later. Right now, we need to decide how to proceed." Bjön was already walking towards the first intersection, nose still in his notes. 

"Stop!" 

"Halt it there!"

Zaza and Samin shouted at the same time. Alarmed, the paladin looked about, hand to his axe, but he could not see anything out of the ordinary. "What..?" he started. 

"The intersection," Zaza said with an accusing frown. 

"The circle," Samin pointed at the same time to the same place. 

Looking down, Bjön could see it. "Yeeaaah..." he admitted, sounding sheepish. The runes in a circle around the intersection definitely looked suspicious. "I can see the point. Literally." 

"We better go around that one, then," Brenn added in a mocking voice and grinned at the dwarf. Bjön sighed. That had not helped for him to establish a leadership role.


----------



## Azkorra (Jan 17, 2012)

As you wrote that not all of your players are present during every session and some are even interacted with via email, is this the reason why the action was that heavily split up between different groups of two or three in the second adventure?

If so, I'm really enjoying your rather unusual GMing style as I always like to see events described from different points of view. In my opinion, changing the perspective from time to time or even focusing on one single character makes your story read like a real novel instead of a mere campaign journal. 

Another aspect that might contribute to this impression is that your sessions seem to be quite combat-low. Or is it just that combat scenes are not supposed to play THAT major role in your story hour and are merely quickly described in one or two sentences, as, for example, the fight with the mutated wolves (which would also be fine for me, at least)?  

The last thing I'd like to ask is how you came up with the idea for Kronk? Very interesting to see a kobold (yellow, to boot) take the side of the characters' party.

Looking forward to the next entry!


----------



## Lwaxy (Jan 17, 2012)

Almost the whole 2nd adventure was done via email, chats, SMS and one single session (Teltz). The adventure warns you not to split up the party but this way, it was really workable. A pale substitute for our traditional "meet for 2 weeks over xmas" RPG excesses, but as we could not make it this year, we at least made some progress. 

They also avoided one encounter (which I wasn't keen on including so that's a good thing). By now, they are through the 3rd adventure although I'll need the notes of Mook and Brenn to finish updating. 

Of course, they did something totally unthinkable. I was hesitant to allow it but as the adventure in itself had a lot of logical fallacies, it went through and we got derailed somewhat. 

Combat is usually very low priority - unless we do sieges or big battles needing weeks to resolve. Additionally, I'm not that good at describing a lot of fights, as they tend to repeat themselves. The idea is only to post those battles in detail where something important happens. The way to the underground city was actually rather heavy on random encounters (battles and otherwise) but it would have made a very boring read even when it was fun to the players. 

The idea for Kronk was born when his player (a neighbor girl) remarked that kobolds, who descend from dragons and don't shut up about it, seem to come only from the so-called evil dragons (color means a lot less in our games in regards to evil or not though) and wondered what happened to descendants of the other dragons. So we invented them. After we did, it was logical that someone wanted to play one. We diced out the colors and it happened to be a yellow (gold) kobold. With the lawful tendencies we gave them, a variant monk was a good choice I think. 

Here's the party update. 

Edawon Hest – Young, pale skinned halfling ranger with stubborn red hair defying all attempts to keep it combed and green eyes which seem to stare into your soul. Used to be a forced street thug and a slave but doesn't really talk about this part of his past. Member of the Bellflower Network. 


Kronk – Kobold monk and scholar, has a bit of a split personality, being scared of heights and some other things one moment and then ignoring all perils. He's yellow golden, unlike most of his known kind. 

Brenn – Sorcerer of Chance (homebrew class, kinda mix between sorcerer and spellthief). Originally joined the group only because he was sent by the government of Nirmathas. 


Players are:

Bjön - my son
Mook - son's girlfriend
Cajun - son's best friend
Zaza - another one of son's friends, playing a female PC for the first time
Kronk - neighbor girl who is now old enough to play late nights
Brenn - work buddy of husband
Samin - husband
Teltz - neighbor
Edawon Hest - neighbor boy


----------



## Lwaxy (Jan 17, 2012)

The group made a fairly good pace, considering that the street was covered with gilded rubble. The fumes from the gold canals were bothering Zaza and Wilbur, who was now perched on Cajun's shoulder, so avoiding the intersections they had gone to the main street closer to the inner wall. They stopped at every small intersection to check left and right. It was hard to make anything out in the greenish light coming from some moss above, but there were no more dead cultists, which could be seen as either good or bad. Here and there, they found gilded remains of skeletons though. 

Just when everyone was beginning to relax and talk about what the cultists were really trying to get from this place, something moved in all the glittering gold. Zaza saw it first and cried out a warning. A clanging of shields and weapons now  resounded as a pack of flaming, gold-plated skeletons bearing golden scimitars rose up from the nearby ruins and advanced.

"Really, again?" Cajun grunted and grabbed his hammer. "Do we have something that attracts undead, or is the world really so full of them?"

"The latter, I'm afraid," Bjön answered and was just getting ready to go against the enemy he had dedicated himself to when lightning came out of nowhere, striking the weird looking skeletons and reducing them to gilded ash. An acrid smell rose from where they just had been and Zaza grimaced. Bjön turned to Brenn and stared in disbelief. 

"No need to thank me," The sorcerer grinned in a challenging way. 

Anger – righteous anger, as he thought – rose within the paladin. "What, in the name of all gods, was that to be?" he asked in a barely controlled voice. "Those were just skeletons, and I could have probably taken them alone, given my training and equipment. And there is Cajun to help. It might have taken a moment, but we could have done it. Instead, you decide to waste your magic on something so simple. Did it ever occur to you that we might have a need for this type of spells somewhere down and around this road? How many of those lightnings do you have left?"

The falling face of the strange man told them he had not considered that, and that he probably only had few, if any, offensive spells remaining. Brenn was about to say something, but Bjön just walked on. The others followed after a moment, leaving Brenn to bring up the rear. Edawon loaded his crossbow and held it at the ready, and Mook decided to do the same. It was not the sort of weapon very effective against undead, but they certainly felt safer. And who could know what else was lurking. 

"You know this is weird," Zaza whispered to her brother while she readied her own crossbow so that only he could hear. "Last month, we were happily or unhappily doing our daily, harmless duties around our home, and none of us but Mook had ever seen undead before. And she only knew the spirits her grandmother deals with. Now, we seem to begin to treat skeletons, at least, as the most normal thing in the world."

"Yeah, and that's not the only thing. We have a kobold as... friend? At least as companion, we are on a most dangerous island and still alive and... well I begin to get a grip on this. I felt too restricted in Kassen as it was. I mean, my apprenticeship basically done and not much more to learn about alchemy in such a small town... I am not sure I can go back to small town life after all this."

"Who says we have to?" Zaza grinned. "Nothing is really keeping us there. Once we've delivered the amulet we'll hopefully get back, we can set out again." 

Cajun thought about that and looked at Samin and Mook. He knew Samin would probably not be going back with his father, given the little he knew about them. But Mook had a lot of family in and close to Kassen. He could not imagine the shy, stuttering oracle to want to be out and about for too long. "We'll see."

"I could feel at home in this place," Kronk the monk grinned, showing all his teeth. "The city is just my color." 

"Oh but you pale in comparison to those skeletons," Edawon said. "They were really shiny, you are kind of... dull."

"Hey, I'm anything but!"

"You are, maybe, anyone's butt," Edawon laughed. He liked the kobold, as much as he had wanted not to at first. 

"Bridge ahead," Bjön pointed. 

"No statues this time." Samin was relieved. "I was beginning to think there would be some sort of enemy at every gate."

It was the same sort of heat and fumes protected bridge they had seen before. The builders of the city had originally build a normal bridge over a normal water canal, and thinking about it now, the changes would have appeared ugly if the city would have still been intact. Cajun was about to comment on it when there was a banging sound as if someone had exploded one of those expensive balloon toys at a fair, and then a stench like sulfur washed over them. A few meters away, a bony being, almost like a skeleton,l had appeared, skin glistering with some sort of slime dripping to the ground with a hissing sound. The thing had horns and a decidedly evil smile. 

Edawon, who by now was long visible again, lifted the crossbow he had been holding ready and fired two bolts in quick succession. "Babau," he shouted with a hatred they had never seen in him. 

Zaza and Mook, without thinking, fired their weapons as well. While Edawon's bolts hit the being in the chest, Mook's found the right shoulder and Zaza's buried itself in the left leg.  Bjön and Cajun readied their weapons. 

"What's a Babau?" Cajun hissed. 

"Some sort of devil, it looks like." Zaza replied, before she remembered her brother's fear of devils and demons.

"Devil," Cajun gulped and went visibly pale. "Not a good idea to fight those." 

"Not a good idea not to," Kronk said. He kept in the back, having no fitting weapon against such a being and not planning on touching the outsider. 

"It's not a devil, it is a demon," Edawon explained. "And it has to die!"

The Babau was looking almost amused at the bolts in his body. They vanished with more hissing sounds, dissolved by the acid. It was not clear if there was any damage or if the demon had healed, too. When Bjön, with his axe, and Brenn with a short sword, came at him, it swung a wicked looking longspear coated in its own acid. Bjön ducked while advancing, but Brenn got caught at the left cheek and screamed out in pain. 

"Demon isn't any better." Samin's hands flew as he reached for his components and then made the necessary gestures while pointing at the outsider. A new spell flew from his lips, one he had gained from the spellbook of a cultist. Luckily, he had decided to memorize it just in case. This was the case now. The magic missile he had managed to create hit the Babau unerringly, causing it to stumble backwards. 

"Do something," Zaza shouted at her brother and fired again, missing widely this time. 

Mook moved backwards to get a better angle to shoot from and called her wolf back. Bjön rolled forward, hacking at the demon's leg but the quick sidestep from the Babau prevented any damage. Edawon, still cursing the demon out, shot twice again, both times hitting home. Again the bolts dissolved but their enemy now looked decidedly angry. 

Brenn was spinning around, trying to stab the Babau in the ribs, but not only did the sword glide off the skin of the outsider, the weapon touching the acid was not a good thing. The weapon begun to smoke and to dissolve. Cajun woke from his shock and started to search in his alchemical supplies for something useful. Kronk was suddenly nowhere to be seen. 

"Figures the kobold runs at the first sign of danger," Brann muttered while jumping out of the reach of the devil's spear. This was, of course, unfair as Kronk had been helpful against the warped wolves before, and in other situations as well. 

Another magic missile flew by and hit the Babau. Bjön's attack had missed again, but after what he had noticed about the sorcerer's weapon, he was not so keen on hitting the demon anyway. His mind started going over the possibilities when he heard Cajun calling in an almost panicked voice. "Get out of the way!"

Edawon turned and ran to reach the others. Mook and Zaza were already behind Cajun, who was taking a few steps back while aiming something at the Babau. Bjön hurried to the left just when the Babau stabbed at Brenn again, seeming to want to finish off one after the other. Brenn was unable to block the attack with the remains of the sword, and the acid coated spear buried itself in the man's left shoulder. 

Cajun had already been in the process of throwing his bomb at the Babau when the spear stuck. As Brenn cried out and tried to free himself, the bomb came down in front of the demon. At the same time, Mook landed another hit while Zaza missed once more. 

Flames engulfed their enemy – and unfortunately splashed over to Brenn, who now cried hysterically. Zaza cried out as well, while Mook just looked more determined. To their horror, the demon looked almost unharmed by the flames as they died down. Brenn's howls suddenly ceased as he lost consciousness. Then suddenly the world went dark.

Mook cursed, one of those curses she reserved for dire situations and usually cost her a smack from her relatives back home. Stumbling backwards, she attempted to get out of the area of the darkness spell. She could hear Zaza's breathing shifting and deducted she was doing the same. The gnome felt helpless, and not knowing if Brenn was still alive made it worse. None of them, she thought, were ready to go up against a demon, except maybe Edawon – what a hatred he showed – and the paladin. Maybe if Teltz would be here they would stand a chance. Maybe...

A shriek and the noise of another bomb exploding interrupted her thoughts. Then there was a sound of something breaking, and the distinct sound of a crossbow firing and hitting something else but the demon. 

Mook broke out of the are of the spell and bumped into Zaza. "What's going on?" the halfling asked, breathless from tension. The gnome shrugged and looked for Dadawin. She found her wolf crouched next to the road, out of spell range. "D-don't kn-know but it sh-should be light again s-soon, no?"

"I don't know how long a demon can maintain a spell," Zaza said, looking around for something, anything, to help them out. 

A streak of pale yellow passed them by, dashing into the darkened area from which, at the same time, the dwarf emerged by crawling backwards on the ground, spouting a tear in the robes he wore over his mail. From somewhere inside the large patch of darkness emerged an otherworldly scream, and more sounds of fired bolts and the tell-tale hissing of dissolving bolts. Then in the blink of an eye, the spell winked out and they could see the body of the demon, neck looking broken, vanishing from this plane. 

"What happened?" Zaza asked. 

Edawon, covered in some yellow powder, grimaced. "When they die here, they just reappear in their native plane. You gotta have to go there, usually, to get them for good."

"No, thanks," Cajun grumbled, voice slightly wavering. "All things should stay on their plane, indeed, and not disturb the order of others."

"What's that y-yellow s-stuff?" Mook inquired, staring at Edawon, who also seemed to have gotten some damage on his arms from the demon's acid where the spear had scratched him. 

"Gold dust," the monk explained. "I needed some sort of weapon, and I thought the best option was to blind the Babau for a bit. No sand, no dirt, so I scraped gold off of some of the rubble around here. Worked well, I'd say." 

"And when the thing was blind, I hammered it down," Cajun said, now sounding proud of himself. "Nothing happened to my weapon either, maybe because I had hit his horns, and that spun the head and broke its neck. Have to admit, it already looked rather damaged."

"Nice work," Bjön nodded and then went to check on Brenn. Mook was already kneeling next to the fallen sorcerer, checking his life signs while starting on a healing spell. "How bad is he?"

"Qu-quite serious. He h-has burns over a l-lot of his b-body, he l-lost a l-lot of blood from the s-spearwound, there is a-acid d-damage and we are all out o-of healing p-potions."

"Your magic not strong enough to make him better?"

"I can m-make him better, a-as I can assure he will b-be b-breathing for a while. B-but I only can d-do so m-much a day, and only little with e-each a-attempt."

Bjön saw the bleeding stop and the wound now looked like it was a few days old and in the healing process. The acid destruction of the skin was gone, and the burns on the man's face looked less severe. His clothing remains also did not appear to be stuck on the wounds anymore. "We need to undress him."

"Y-yes, and apply b-bandages, and healing salves. I d-do n-not know if I have enough of those. H-he will be in p-pain, and we can't take him along in this state."

"So, we leave him behind, then?" While not liking the man, this idea seemed wrong to Zaza. "Then who will care for him? Burn victims need a lot of water, no?" Zaza saw Mook, who had taught her a lot about healing, nod gravely. Their water supplies were scarce, as with the negative energy outside, Mook had not been able to purify any water. In here, they had not seen any water resource.

"We stay the night, and you use more magic on him tomorrow?" Samin, who only now returned from studying the spot where the demon had vanished, suggested. "Although, that would set us back and we could have camped out right back at the gate."

"Maybe we should put him out of his misery," the kobold offered."Just saying, if he is dying anyway because we are out of healing supplies..."

"H-he won't d-die!" Mook exclaimed, contradicting her former statement. She already put some medicine into a small flask filled with a greenish liquid, shook the components and then carefully made the still unconscious sorcerer swallow it all.

 "Didn't you have a wand from the crypt, to cure light wounds?" Bjön suddenly remembered. "Or did you forget that in Teltz' backpack together with most of the other useful things he had?"

Samin looked defeated. "I brought some of the stuff, but not all."

"That is a no, then," Bjön sighed. He would never again make the mistake not to cross check the equipment his companions traveled with. 

Kronk had been going through his small backpack and now finally produced a small vial with a silvery powder. "Maybe this will help," he said with hesitation. "It does not heal but it turns you into one of your ancestors for about 3 days. It is part of a kobold ritual that..."

"It would shapechange him?" Bjön inqured. "And thus cover his injuries? And when it runs out he returns to what he is now, am I right?" The paladin had heard of potions like that, but they were usually taken to make you tougher in battle for a short time.

"Yes, but he would continue to heal normally in that time. Sometimes, the rich in my tribe use it to make someone stay alive for quite some time. But..."

"We'll try that," Bjön decided. "It has been used on other races before, yes?"

"Yes, but there are risks..."

Mook took the vial from the kobold's hand and stared at the powder. "How do I g-get it into him? C-can I m-mix it with water?"

"Yes." Kronk tried to keep up with the speed of events. He had not even explained the risks. The side effects. But then, the man would otherwise die. 

"He will be able to come with us?" Cajun asked. The sorcerer, while arrogant and distant and quite a show off, had been useful after all, having one less member knowing how to use a sword was not a good thing. 

"Yes, he will just look different and may be confused. And he might now have all of his spells, if any, and maybe some others in their place."

"So, if he comes out as his great-great-grandfather who was a farmer, he might only know how to tend fields and cows, is that it?" Zaza asked. 

"Basically, but usually you take on the form of your most heroic ancestor." Kronk showed all his teeth in the attempt of a grin. "And he has been going on how he was from a long line of sorcerers."

In all the talk, Mook had already given the powder to Brenn, and a weird change took place in front of their eyes. The flesh of the sorcerer became pale, his frame slimmer and his eyes turned yellow. He began to look like he had not had a good meal in a long time, and the fingers looked a lot more like claws now. 

"What, in the name of Desna, is that?" Bjön gasped. 

"I believe," Samin said while staring at the transformation, "that is a Fetchling."





Bjön's Pathfinder Diary

3rd of Neth

Isle of Dread, City of Xin-Grafar

I have the feeling we are running out of time. And I am probably losing control of the situation, if I ever had control, that is. We made it into the city just fine and found it full of canals of molten gold, eerie green light and a stench accompanying the molten metal. There were some minor skeletons here, nothing we can't handle. Brenn got ahead of himself and wasted his magic on the first group we encountered. We have to hurry, because there is a timer set to flood the city in gold once the gates were opened. 

After being badly injured in a fight against a summoned demon, the only way to save Brenn was using an ingredient for a kobold ritual turning him into one of his ancestors. Brenn's transformation into Krall Dalingh the fetchling – or, as they call themselves, kayal – had us all stumped. We know little about fetchlings other than that they are from the plane of shadow, but at least the sorcerer's ancestor was not hostile. 

At the same time, we heard the sounds of battle far behind us. It is likely that the twisted lizardfolk still following us had come across the guardian construct at the first bridge. 

As we soon figured out, Brenn kept all of his memories, but they were overshadowed by the memories and skills of his ancestor, and he could only act as Krall Dalingh. This was to our advantage, though. After disposing of more gilded skeletons we finally reached the bridge to the next ring of the city. Standing before the gates to the city’s 2nd  Ring were two hulking skeletons in shining golden breastplates, their thick bones plated with gold. Their huge, gold-plated halberds were crossed in front of the gate, barring the way forward. This was the first time I ever encountered the skeletons of ogres. 

They attacked as soon as they noticed we planned to cross the bridge. I do not know what exactly Brenn-Krall did, but he touched them one after the other while turning himself into some sort of shadow they could not hit, and they were drained of all color and, as it seemed, were pulled into the shadow plane. And Krall didn't even appear to be exhausted. 

Immediately across the bridge, the gold-plated road reached a crossroads and disappeared beneath a mound of partially melted treasure. Gold coins, weapons, armor, and glittering gems covered the entire intersection in a mountain of wealth that reached ten feet high. It was a sight to behold. 

It had to be a trap, and Zaza made out the gilded skeleton wearing a Razmiran mask just next to the pile. It seems likely that there is a fountain of molten gold to be expected when touching anything, so we gave the trap a wide berth. Not even Zaza looked twice at any of the treasure, we aren't even sure if all of it is real. 

The gold coating everything from the former floods didn't reach all up to the top of the buildings here, so there is hope that even if we can't get out before the flood, we will be relatively safe in the upper floors or in the 3rd Ring. The whole 2nd ring has walls as high as the ceiling, it almost looks like a cave within a cave. It slopes upward in here, and Mook was so tired she had to ride on her wolf to keep up. We had to backtrack once because the bridge we planned to take did not stand anymore. 

The inner city seems to have taken little damage. On our way around to the bridge leading to the 3rd Ring we noticed two destroyed citadels though. They spouted a weird sight, with skeletons nailed all over the walls. We guessed it was the original defenders of the city, and the evil that conquered them made an example of them.

It was here where the priestess Iramine left some of her remaining cultists to try and stop or at least delay us. One of their herald asked us to surrender, trying to make it sound as if there were hundreds of them. Kronk moved out of sight – easy for him with his yellow color in all the gold, I guess – and took care of some of them while the fetchling vanished into the sparse shadows and dealt with the rest. I was not too happy about that, but I was not asked. I begin to get the feeling I am not made to lead anyone. Neither Kronk nor Brenn-Krall left any of them alive. For some reason, Mook seemed to be even more upset about that than I am, but I hope no one noticed my anger. After all that has happened, I can understand why they did it. Brenn is not himself, and Kronk is a kobold after all. I have yet to be completely convinced that he is truly on our side, which might not happen unless I know what is going on with him and Zaza. 

The good thing about that was that in the gear of the cultists, we found useful things. The best was a potion of cure moderate wounds, which we gave to Brenn.Krall so that his healing process would be speedier. Once he returns to his normal form, he might still die otherwise, and he understands that very well. 

We came up to the bridge we had to cross to move upward to the last ring. Two gold-plated columns carved to resemble female warriors flanked the entrance. But they were alive, as we soon found out. The cultists didn't have to fight their way through all of these guardians, as they have the key to the city. Iramine, with whoever she has left, must be far ahead now. 

Brenn-Krell's shadow touch did nothing to those statues. We had not expected it to, but it was worth a try. On the bright side, they couldn't harm him in half-shadow form, so he just went over to the other side to aid us from there. He cannot use this ability again for the day either, as he explained. 

We had found more invisibility potions with the herald of the cultists Kronk and the fetchling killed. So we could get more of us to the other side, and we still had the gaseous form potion. My guess was that the statues would only attack who moved over from this side, so anyone on the other side would be able to do ranged attacks against those guardians without being targeted.

There was one little issue with this – we didn't have a lot of ranged attacks which were hopeful to do damage against constructs. Cajun had a few bombs left, but fire isn't that effective against constructs, and neither is his cold version of the bombs. Samin had a lot of cantrips available, but only a few would cause the constructs minimal problems. 

Mook instructed Dadawin to try and get to the other side, to see if the statues would see an animal as a threat. They did not. This was a good thing, as it meant only one of us would not be able to get to the other side. I was about to devise a plan, when Kronk chimed in and ignored my attempts at leadership. The kobold told Mook to use the oil of invisibility and join her wolf, and for Samin to "be a gas" and follow, then asked the rest of us to get the potions ready and distract the statues so they would move over to the south west. He assured us he would be able to get past and once they noticed him we should just drink up and follow. 

No sooner had he said that he left to the side, and almost became one with the golden rubble. Well, we did as he was asking, no point in arguing a good idea. The gist of it is that it worked. Kronk is fast and agile, and he can climb like the best of them. He crossed on top of the bridge, and the constructs lost him from view. 

Maybe I am just not cut out to lead people. As a paladin, I was taught it is important to take on a leadership role, and that only a few of us would not do so. I seem to be one of those. 

In any case, we met out greatest challenge yet, and none of us is confident we could manage this. It is an undead dragon coated all in gold, and from what Samin says, it might have been a real gold dragon when it was alive. That would be a twisted curse of fate indeed. 

This skeletal being stands guard on the last bridge over a narrow canal of gold leading to where we know the remaining cultists must be. It has not noticed us yet, Wilbur has warned us in time. Mook is making a desperate plea for the dragon and his fate to the others, but I have retreated from the dead end conversation. 

Mook is all upset, saying she can sense good deep within a twisted, tortured mind. She wants to help this aberration. I think it is beyond help, despite admiring her good heart. Millenia of being here, supposedly guarding the inner sanctum, must have left the remaining mind of this poor creature totally corrupted. Maybe we can find a way to put it to final rest, but I am doubtful. We have no one to turn an undead being into a true dead, and the possibility to find something similar in this city seems to be slim. Ironically, we are now resting in the building that is the twisted dragon's hoard – it seems to have kept some sense of self, although the hoard is mostly made up of gilded rubble otherwise worthless. I found a battle axe of gilded adamantine, though, and as sure as I am one of Desna's own, I am going to keep it. I can feel it is special. Samin has also found an equally gilded brooch of shielding and another horn of fog. The latter reminded me that it might have been wise of me to use the horn I am already carrying to hamper the demon earlier on. I know that I everyone is prone to make mistakes in the beginning of their work for the greater good, but I can't help thinking I might have spared Brenn a lot of anguish. We also found more potions to cure moderate wounds though, and Mook had them all into Brenn-Krell in no time. She assures us that with her healing spells of the next day, should she not need them for anyone else, he will be almost fine when he returns to his normal self. 

Kronk seems to be a little depressed. I think it is because of the ritual powder he gave up for Brenn. Maybe it is expensive or hard to come by. I will ask him when it seems to be a good time. 

Despite the countdown on the gold flood, we need rest. We cannot take on this undead dragon or the cultists without new spells and full strength. We still have no idea what they are doing in there, what they are searching for. It could be anything, and we need to be prepared. I have the first watch, and I hope nothing will fall upon us.


----------



## Lwaxy (Jan 24, 2012)

Late update, chronic eye infection acting up. Could not write as much as I wanted either, maybe I manage more later today. 

The characters of Brenn and Mook are undergoing a semi-planned change, so will the others over time (hopefully) as they are supposed to be our Golarion's epic heroes eventually. Turned out different from what I originally envisioned (of course  ) so I now need to flash out a new oracle archetype. 

--------------------------------


Mook stood at the entrance to the ruined brick building they had picked to stay at for the night that was none and crawled her wolf's ears. The everlasting green light was beginning to annoy her. While she had slept fine enough thanks to exhaustion, once Cajun had woken her for the last hours of nightwatch, she was getting more and more nervous and irritable. And that had mostly to do with the dragon skeleton still guarding the bridge. 

In her desperate want to help what must have once been a beautiful being, she had called upon all gods good and merciful, but was not sure if she had gotten a response worth mentioning. She had had visions in her dreams, of a young golden dragon being captured and tortured, then turned into the undead guardian she saw now. The gnome could not be sure how much reality those dreams had, her experiences from past dreams hinted at a fairly good chance that most of it was true. 

She had to admit to herself that she was astonished to have this urge to help a potentially deadly creature. Yes, she had always been one to aid any being in need; if it had been up to her, the cultists they had met late last evening would not have had to die. Most of them had probably been tricked into the cult and brainwashed. While the world was a harsh place, there was no need for her to make it an even harsher place. 

There was one option, she thought, but she had never used that particular spell for anything else than slapping Zaza out of a frenzy or stopping Samin from panicking when he had learned one too many spells and started to mix them all up. With the right god to call upon, Desna in this case, there was almost no failure chance. If she could just gather her courage and...

"It will not work." 

Mook swirled around to see Brenn-Krell standing behind her right shoulder, a weird smile on his face fitting his snarling voice. "Wh-what will n-not? You d-don't kn-know what I had in m-mind."

"Not the details. But, I am guessing you know some kind of spell you think can help, maybe something that, strictly speaking, never fails because one of your gods or the other grant it to you. And you are forgetting that a spell is only so strong as the wielder, unless the gods personally intervene. Which I consider unlikely. What is it? Some kind of stun?"

"N-no. It is a s-spell to m-make it calm and c-clear again. I used it b-before." Mook frowned, considering what he has said about spells and wielders.

"On your friends? Some hostiles, maybe? Certainly nothing like this." Brenn-Krell made a wide gesture with is arms to drive the point of the city's strangeness home. "So it will work. You will have a clear, sound minded undead dragon for a moment. Which is not to say that it is not still evil. But even if it is not, the evil of its existence, the millenia of being isolated, the memory of whatever has happened to it will be right there, working on its mind again. You may have a few minutes before it is insane again. I can feel its insanity, it is immense. Only that it seems to be bound to this place stops it from acting it."

Mook felt the tears rise up inside her and forced them back. "There h-has to b-be a way."

"As it is undead, I can shift it to the shadow plane. Not an ideal solution, as that plane will just twist it more, but it will be gone, at least."

Turning back to the dragon pacing on the other side, Mook could still feel the weight of the strange man's stare. "I can still t-try," she whispered. "And wh-when it doesn't w-work you can... d-do whatever it e-exactly is you are doing."

Brenn-Krell chuckled as he realized she had drawn him into her plans, quite cleverly so. "How do you want to get over there without it killing you while approaching?" 

"This," Mook explained and lifted the second horn of fog they had found in the undead dragon's meager hoard. "It'll w-wake e-everyone else but I sh-should be over there in t-time."

"And once you are close he notices you, and if you get to touch him and he stays evil, then you are just prepared to die?"

"I d-don't think I'm p-prepared for anything," the oracle admitted. 

"Could help you, I think, but you will not like it. For anyone not from the plane of shadow, it is a strange experience." Again, he flashed his weird smile. 

"S-stranger than all th-this?" Mook imitated his gesture from before, including him.

"Point taken. Hold on, then! And be ready with your spell." Before Mook could ask what he was planning to do, Brenn-Krell lifted her and her gear up as if she was light as a leaf and started running towards the bridge, just like he had done the day before when going for the ogre skeletons. Mook felt dizzy, as if the world around her would blurr and lose all color. It did not agree too wel with her stomach, but before she could really think about it she noticed they were on the bridge and the dragon had noticed them. 

Dropping her and circling the dragon, Brenn-Krell did all he could to center the dragon's attention on himself. Mook tried to ignore the fetchling and instead ducked under the bony wings of the undead foe. A part of her was watching everything, unbelieving what was happening and scared beyond belief. The other part of her was acting as if she had done this her whole life. She could feel the blessing of the gods – all good gods – with her. Fascination and repulsion was both present as she touched the dragon's gilded form. The spell flew from her lips and then she jumped back. Where the fetchling was, she could not tell. 

Then she saw the bony tail of the dragon hit the fetchling, depositing him close to the edge of the golden canal. The skeleton opened his fangs and roared. The roar from the skeleton sounded wrong, and for a moment Mook pressed her hands on her ears. Then she saw the change in the dragon's aura. She was not good at seeing auras, despite her father trying to teach her. But it was all she needed to find the ourage to speak up." "Hey, d-dragon? Y-you with the b-big head!" 

The head turned to stare at her, just a hand from her face. The gnome had trouble breathing, and she half expected to see her life flash before her eyes, but instead she heard herself say the first thing you usually ask strangers you meet. "I'm Mook. W-what's y-your name?"

The silence seemed to stretch. "Mar'Karthon..." the dragon then replied. "Mar'karton.... Mar'karton.... I do not remember my full name!" As much as you could say with undead, there was a distinct confusion in the eerie voice.

Mook remembered what she had been told about the spell not lasting long. "Y-you are the g-guardian here, yes? "W-what is inside?"

"You shall not pass. I cannot help it, I must defend this place, I'm enslaved, I am..." It seemed to be already happening. 

"Oh we d-don't want to pass," Mook hurried. "W-we just w-want to know w-what that woman is l-looking for i-inside."

"You come here not knowing what is the heart of the city?" The dragon skeleton sat down on his hind legs, sparkling in the everlasting green light like a small sun. It looked beautiful. "The Jewel of Everlasting Gold, of course. But no one will own it, and it cannot be removed." The dragon said that with much certainty. 

"So, the b-bearer of they key to the city can't r-remove it, either?" Mooks eyes went wide with the implications. If that was true, Iramine could only hope to come back later and take as much gold as possible from the city. 

She must have stuttered that aloud, because the dragon's creepy laughter echoed off the walls around them. "The gold created by the Jewel cannot be removed. It will always return to the city." There was new malice in his voice, the effect of the spell was already ending. 

"If that is s-so, we would not have n-needed to c-come here, s-save for the k-key that was not ours t-to begin with," she whispered. "Thank you, M-Mar'Karthon-can't-r-remember-full-n-name." From the corner of her eye, she saw the fetchling was still not moving. 

"Mook?" Zaza's panicked cry came over the canal. Of course, the others were awake now after all the commotion. 

 "You are welcome, Mook-with-name-so-short," the dragon replied, and it sounded amused. "I do not feel well. Can you do that again?"

"W-what?" The oracle saw Brenn-Krell was moving his legs now, and seemed to slowly edge away from the canal. That was a relief. 

"T-touch m-me. F-feel me." Mar'Karthon's empty eyes caused Mook to shiver as he moved his head even closer. "You... made me wake up form... something. What has happened to me?"

Mook stretched out a hand and touched the gold plating of the skeletal frame again. Once more she was a conduit for divine energy, more confident this time. And even more aware of the little time she had left now that the poor undead would want to find out about his – the name sounded male, anyway – existence. 

Brenn-Krell now rolled around, carefully getting to his knees. He didn't feel harmed, but his shapechanged form was probably also protecting him from new damage. The fetchling had heard every word. It was time to act, to send the dragon to the shadow plane before it would succumb to madness and evil again. He was very surprised that the spell worked so well and could even be renewed. On wobbling legs, Brenn-Krelll got up. From the corner of his eye he saw the paladin stride onto the bridge, surrounded by a golden glow of divine protection. Soon there would be too many visitors to this party, he knew, and staggered over to where Mook was still talking to the dragon. 

As he readied himself, swirls of shadow seemed to emerge from his body. All he needed to do was to become half-solid and then sink his hand into the undead creature. The sensation was both familiar and new, the constant confusion of his momentary state. 

Mook's head turned towards the fetchling as he came closer. The gnome's eyes went wide as she realized Brenn-Krell was about to send Mar'Karthon to Krell's native plane. "No!" she shrieked, making the dragon back off in confusion. The thought of Mar'Karthon being stuck on that plane, even losing the fake gold color he was spouting now, was too much for Mook's mind. She was already hovering on the edge of losing it since Braan had almost died the day before. Following the dragon who turned to attack Brenn-Krell, she touched the creature once more, shouting a word in her gnomish language her friends did not understand. There was a bright flash of purple light, reacting eerily with the green-golden light reflected from the gilded skeleton. For a heartbeat or two, time did not seem to move, then the dragon blinked out of existence and Mook, losing her support, fell to her hands and knees.

Bjön arrived just in time to grab her and drag her into his zone of protection as the negative energies stored during the creation of the undead unleashed and danced around them. It lasted but a moment, yet to the paladin it seemed an eternity. The spell fizzled out, and a deafening silence fell over the area. Then he heard the footsteps of the kobold, Zaza and Cajun, all of them muttering in worry. Brenn-Krell reappeared from somewhere and Samin cursed. "We have company." 

Bjön wanted to turn around to see what the young man meant, but the a raspy voice now speaking made it all clear. "Impressive, very impressive," the leader of the lizardfolk mutants snarled. "We saw the trail of deaths in your wake. If the last of the trespassers are in there, we want them."


----------



## Lwaxy (Jan 28, 2012)

The last sounds of the flute faded in the common room of The Weathered Rose. The sparse crowd applauded and went back to their foods and drinks as the bard climbed down the stairs of the stage. He was still feeling weak, even a day after he woke up from fitful, feverish sleep. Performing kept his minds off his experiences and worries about the rest of the group, so he had insisted he would keep the patrons entertained for the help he and his friends had already gotten. At first, he had hoped to set it up so he would be assumed to have died after returning, in the hopes of getting the pursuers off their tracks. But he had had no chance with all the visitors and officials and other people wanting to thank him for his help with the Razmiran problem. 

As Teltz sat down at the bar ordering an ale, he thought about the likeliness that the strangers who had found them at Kassen after all those years would simply wait there for their return. No doubt they had heard the story of the crypt and the theft of the pendants and the group's journey to retrieve them. Yes, they might just wait in town, but then, it would be better for them to follow and catch them on their way back. That thought brought to mind how much they had endangered the others by traveling with them. Maybe their foes would not wait to catch Samin and him alone. Maybe they would just try to take everyone out. Teltz was not sure if they wanted him and Samin alive or not, but in any case, it would be very bad to be caught. 

Discretely paid lookouts he had sent through the city had reported no party like he had seen in Kassen coming up the river, or into any other part of town but the latter was hard to make sure of. There were not enough lookouts for him to employ, but if any pursuers would follow them on other ways, they would be significantly slowed down and not be able to be here yet. 

While he was thinking of something to do other than wait, the current bartender, a young half-dwarf with the most amazing green eyes and blonde hair came over to him. Teltz thought that, overlooking the slight beard on her upper lip and the small size, she could be considered a beauty by human standards. "You don't look that happy," she stated the obvious. "Worried about your friends, no doubt. Do they know what they are doing?"

The bard thought that to be an odd question, he had expected more talk along the lines of pointless reassurances, as he had gotten them all day. "No," he answered truthfully. "I have no idea if they know what they are doing, because I sure as hell is hot would not have let them go had I been awake. What a folly, the cultists will never escape the island again."

"From what I heard," the woman grinned and put down another ale, "that high priest of theirs did return once." 

"Yeah, with experienced friends at her side, not a bunch of whacky cultists," Teltz grinned. "My friends," he added, "have as good as no experience. We just left our hometown after all. " He didn't want to talk about his own experience in such matters. 

"But you got more experience." The bartender said that matter-of-factly. "You don't have to say it. I know experience when I see it."

"Not that much more." Finishing his ale, Teltz felt slightly dizzy, reminding him he had not eaten dinner yet. "What about getting me some stew and bread?" he smiled, trying to find a new subject to move on to. 

While the half-dwarf – Linnie, he remembered now – went about his orders, he had a look at the current patrons. It was late in the evening, and only those staying at the inn were here, as it seemed. No one he had not seen already, new guests were not that common this time of year. The weather had taken a turn for the worse and the winds were now blowing almost constantly, often bringing water sprays deep into the city. Winter was coming quickly, not a time for traveling far. But they would have little choice once everyone – hopefully everyone – was back from this ill thought through adventure. 

As he started eating, Teltz noticed Linnie still looking at him. "What?" he asked between two bites. 

"Oh I was just wondering, if it was possible.. I mean, if you feel well enough... if you could..."

Now the bard got it. "You've got a problem you do not want to bother the officials with, and you were wondering if I could try to take care of it?"

She had the decency to blush. "There not many people here willing to help, especially not any with even the slightest experience. They all have their own business to attend to. Even all the paladins are gone, with the war and the undead in the area and all."

Teltz nodded, but didn't say anything. He figured if it was important enough to the woman, she would speak up again. "It probably won't take you long, and it might take your mind off your worries..." she indeed started again. 

"Alright, so what is this about?" Teltz half expected a rat infested cellar for him to use his rat piper melody on, or maybe her younger brother he had seen earlier who got into trouble with someone.

"I'll show you after my shift... or maybe tomorrow, you look like you could use some sleep," Linnie winked. And as to that, she was definitely right. 





"Of course," Bjön decided before Samin could do his weird thing again. "All we ask is that we get the amulet back their leader carries."  

"Deal," the lizard hissed. "Not like we could use it for anything." But to anyone listening, this promise did not sound very sincere. 

As the lizards went on to enter the center of the city, Samin chewed his lip, Cajun scratched his crotch and Zaza held the still unconscious Mook. It was the fetchling who finally said it. "We do not need the amulet – the key to this city. No one can remove this magic item creating all this gold, and the gold will stay in the city at all times. Thus, the cultists pose no threat. There are other riches here though, some of them no doubt dangerous. We do not really need them, tough I would not object taking as much as we can safely remove. You cannot return the parts of the key to your undead people at the crypt, no matter if benevolent or not, nor can you hand the other part to the pathfinders. My apologies," he bowed slightly to Bjön, " but the Pathfinders are not a basically good aligned group. If they were to keep one part of the key while knowing where the others are, only ill can come off it eventually. We need, however, leave here quickly. Either the cultists will kill the reptiles, in which case we only have to avoid the raising level of molten gold. Or the reptiles win, in which case..."

"...they would come back and fight us, as they have promised, giving us the key or not." The kobold fell in with slight amusement obvious in his voice. "Which is not a good thing looking at their numbers. And if we leave the key with the obsessed priestess, it will never leave the city again, right?" 

Mook suddenly spoke up. "The doors to the city will close, no matter where the key is. And only be able to be opened again in 10 years. The dragon told me before... before... what happened anyway?" Mook sounded weak, but Zaza's worries that she would turn out like Teltz had seemed unfounded. 

"So," the paladin decided, eying Brenn-Krell with new respect, "if we leave, Iramine will die in here because the doors won't open again. We just need to close the doors before they close on its own... would that help?" He looked questioningly to the gnome. Mook nodded. "Let's go then," he ordered. 

After some hesitation, Cajun lifted Mook to carry her and went back the way they had come. "But... Zaza dared to mention. "Our mission... the retrieval of the amulets... Kassen's rest?"

"He, of all people, would understand," Samin said, sounding certain. Then he turned and followed Cajun, and the others fell in behind. 

But this was another problem they had to discuss on their way back. There was no way they could admit to the Pathfinder lodge they had left the key inside and betrayed their mission. It would cause all sorts of trouble for their future endeavors. It was Samin who finally suggested they should not return, at least not all. He suggested Bjön and Brenn-Krell – once he was pure Brenn again – should find their ship and go back, pretending all the others had died. Then pick up Samin's dad and meet elsewhere. 

Kronk, who could handle a ship well enough, could sail back with the rest of them, using the hopefully still present ship of the cultists – or, of that was not seaworthy, come pick them up later. The idea of staying on the dangerous island for longer, even at the shore, was terrifying, but it seemed to be the only logical decision.

Bjön was adamant that he couldn't lie that well about what had happened, and it also went against his oath as paladin and pathfinder. He eventually agreed but insisting that only he went back. Brenn-Kell agreed, pledging to stay with the party, as he had little to lose back home. He had been volunteered for this mission by his enemies to hopefully die, as he explained in an exasperated voice. 

They had no problem leaving the city. Bjön noticed that Cajun and Zaza managed to pilfer some more treasures from buildings and some minor traps. He did not comment. They would probably need it all later, right now, all he wanted was to leave this godsforsaken island. 

Zaza brought up the issue of the madman who had led them here. But when they exited the city, the former pathfinder was nowhere to be seen. Edawon Hest said he had been gone for some hours, and from the rotting flesh in his wake, he would probably be dead soon. This made them all sad, especially Mook, but there was little to be done about it. They settled at the doors to wait if  any of the cultists or the reptiles would come back out, but it did not happen. With the doors closed without problem by the party, they decided to go back to the shore once they knew the molten gold must be receding. 

On the way  back, Mook realized something. "If we p-pretend to be d-dead... our f-families? Everyone else b-back home?" she asked weakly. Zaza and Cajun only had a mother barely aware what she was doing anymore, thanks to alcohol, and Samin's father would follow them. But Mook had a whole extended family of gnomes all around the area. 

"I am sorry," Samin muttered. "I forgot... here is the thing though, da and me cannot go back. Remember the strangers showing up before we left? The ones everyone was so curious about?"

Mook nodded. She remembered her vision, and the promise she gave to herself to stay with her friends. Except she had not planned to pretend to be dead to her family. Cajun grunted, seeing his suspicions come true. 

"Da warned me they would eventually come to hunt us. I don't know the details, he won't tell me. I will ask him again, I think we all should know now, but I just don't know. But they cannot get us!" shock at what he had let slip was suddenly in his face. 

"We'll all keep the secret," Bjön assured, looking at Brenn-Krell. The fetchling just nodded. They saved his life, he would keep their secret save. Bjön seemed not at all concerned about the kobold. 

Kronk then spoke up for the first time about his purpose here. "I was told the thieves of thieves would come aid the area of my origin, my home, in an important task. I come from a place called Falcon's hollow – or better, from the hills north of it. The other, more sinister kobold tribes cause havoc in the area. I was given a vision, a mission, to bring the thief of thieves and friends there. And that you would help the town. We can't, although we tried. There are only few of my tribes around."

"How would you know I am the one you were looking for?" Zaza snorted. "A lot of people steal from thieves. And I'm not really a lawbreaker."

"No, but you are the thief of thieves, I knew it when I saw you first," the monk insisted. 

"So, w-where do we m-meet again?" Mook asked while riding on her wolf. 

"The best is," Bjön said, " to travel upriver to Detmer and Kerse, and if needed, Macridi. Wait there for us until I show up with Teltz if we have not caught you by then. From there, it is just south to get to Falcon's Hollow eventually." He looked questioningly at Kronk, who nodded. "A few days, with horses and good luck." The others agreed. Mook was slumped over her wolf though, morning the self imposed loss of her family. If she had insisted, they would have let her go back, she knew, but it would feel like betrayal. And she had to admit, the prospect to return to the sleepy town of Kassen, a large village really, was not appealing. 

The trek back was, luckily, much easier as the negative energy storms had stopped. To their relief, they did find the ship the cultists came in, including some of the slaughtered crew. They had run afoul of the lizards, as it seemed.  There was no sign of any trouble around though,  and as Bjön left them to light the fires promised to the dwarf captain, he prayed for them to have no problem with the ship and placed on it the blessing of Desna. 


-------------------------------------------------

A short musing about the adventure modules so far.  This set of 3 modules was not the best match, and not the best single adventures either. Mainly, there are some logical problems. 

For one, in the 2nd part, the town people supposedly burn the temple of the Razmirans down. This makes no sense at all, not only because the danger of fire jumping to other buildings in such a densely populated area would be way too high, but their nation is at war and hard pressed for resources. One would think they would just drive the evil out and reuse it. 

Which was what my players wanted - they intended to try and claim it as an interim base to get back to regularly. However, that does not at all work with part of the overlying story arc Teltz' player and me came up with. So I had the cultists burn the place down, which makes a lot more sense seeing how they need to get rid of evidence and wouldn't want to leave any bit of value for the city to use. 

Originally, all the PCs wanted was the key, and maybe stop the cultists from getting more treasure. They couldn't know what was inside the city, as the two enemy undead in the crypt never mentioned it (which is in itself another mistake, as they should have been able to recognize the hands of her former comrade at work). 

So, as was suggested at one point, all they would have to do was wait outside for their foes to come back out. and if they would not come back out, the key would have probably been lost anyway. Or better yet, one idea was to just find their ship and disable it, then just negotiate for the return of the key if the cultists came back - or just leave the island bye bye. 

For the sake of staying as much in their young characters as possible, and for the sake of actually seeing what comes next of course, we at least got almost to the end of the story. That they decided not to fight the priestess and her remaining few made absolute sense after they found out about the gold in the city and all. 

And talking of gold, the air in there would have had to be really toxic. 

That's not the first time this group committed the unthinkable heresy to change the premise of an adventure, of course, but I found it most fitting as it also gives them a good reason not to return to Kassen anytime soon. Certainly makes my task to keep their foes on their tracks a bit more interesting. 

Coming up next, some interludes and the Falcon's Hollow adventures.


----------



## Azkorra (Jan 30, 2012)

I can see the difficulties you had with this set of adventures and I think they more or less match what I've heard about them so far (especially the logical inconsistencies suffered by the last two adventures). 

Considering this, let me say that you managed to wrap up this mini arc pretty well. Kudos! I particularly (this is a repeat) like how your party manages to avoid combat if it is not entirely inevitable.

Good luck with the Falcon's Hollow set! Hope this will work out better for you!

BTW, when do you plan to start your first Adventure Path? And which one might it be? Rise of the Runelords or one of the later ones?


----------



## Lwaxy (Jan 30, 2012)

As some of the APs have references to others (well, at least one has) We will attempt to do them in order, except maybe put Serpent's Skull first. Probably soon after the Falcon's Hollow set, but there needs to be a reason why they travel to where what action is. This is the main problem in all the "let's do all adventures" campaigns I run/play in (some of us are doing this for Faerun and Greyhawk as well). 

It is made more difficult by Paizo concentrating on certain cities/areas like Absalom (way too many of the society scenarios are played there). There is nothing happening where the PCs are now. As the adventures are somewhat tightly tied to the locations, I find it difficult to rewrite them. Of course it would be feasible that nothing happens to the group for an extended amount of time, but given the story arc over all the adventures, this is not all that likely. 

I've ran the Falcon's Hollow set for the neighbor kids a while ago, and it played out more easily. So hopefully we can stick with the story this time, but I also like my players to surprise me


----------



## Lwaxy (Jan 30, 2012)

The following solo is an adaption of Pathfinder Society Scenario #18 from season 3. It originally plays in/under the PF lodge in Sothis in Osirion. It fits much better where Teltz is right now, and he needs to be occupied while the party is split. 

The Trouble with Secrets


Linnie stood in front of a set of stairs leading down into the inn's basement. For a moment after they had arrived, Teltz had really thought she wanted him to oust some rats or other vermin. A task he would have been, ironically, well prepared for. But now it seemed matters were more serious. 

"So, I did talk to the city officials," Linnie just explained. "They came and had a look, found nothing and left again, insisting my uncle must have run off with one of his many concubines. But in all his infidelity, my aunt and me are sure he did not. He is much to dependent on all the luxury my aunt can offer him. She would not kick him out because he is so good at predicting the best business deals for her. So really, no reason for him to leave. And the last I saw of him was him going down there. I never saw him come back out." 

Teltz nodded. "And you have found something now?"

"Yes, there is a hidden door in the basement that recently has been opened." The girl lifted her lantern and led the way down. In the large wine cellar of the inn, one empty shelf where wine had been stored had been removed, and the wall now bare showed a simple iron door painted in the colors of the wall. In a barely discernible writing "jail" was written across in what might have been a yellow color once. It was easy to see that it had recently been opened. 

"So you want me to investigate?" Teltz made sure. "Your family is fine with that? They do not want the guard involved anymore, or hire a group of armed men to be sure?"

"The guards won't come back, not right now, all the chaos about the Razmiran business is still high. My dad is in the council and has no ear for anything about his missing brother in law. My aunt is out for business for a while. I think she has given up worrying about uncle Fendel."

"I see. Has there ever been a mention about the basement extending under the street?" The bard moved a hand across the door. It felt ancient to his inborn time sense. 

"There were some rumors about secret tunnels, interconnected halls from several buildings and all that, but never something definite." Linnie shrugged apologetically. "I was interested in that as a child, of course, but never really read up on it to find out if any of it was true."

"Of course." Having found the hidden opening mechanism at the right edge of the door, Teltz let his mind go over his equipment again. After he saw that his friends – silly thing to do – had left a lot of the magical stuff they had found behind when they set out, he did what every experienced traveler and adventurer would do. He packed it all. At his belt was a large pouch for spell components, sunrods, magic items and potions, the alchemist's fire Cajun had left behind  and the occasional scroll he still had. He had his dagger and rapier at his side but had left his bow at his room. And because his busy past had taught him to be prepared, he had brought food and water, too. He did not expect to be long on locating someone missing in some vaults or tunnels, as his uncanny sense of direction had never failed him before. But a lot of things could happen – cave ins, monsters (they were everywhere in those troubled times) or even criminals. "I have everything I need," he concluded. "Keep the door closed until I knock in the pattern of a red wing's song. You know that one, right?"

Linnie nodded. Those birds were all over the place, especially now that it got cold, trying to get crumbs from the city dwellers. "If there is any danger, come back please. With your word we can get the guards to come back and help." 

"Sure thing," Teltz agreed. He smiled and opened the door, finding it difficult to open. It made some screeching sounds and eventually, he could slip through. As the girl closed the door behind him, the bard quickly lit a sunrod and checked out his surroundings. 

This room had obviously not been used for years. Battered chairs and tables dotted the chamber, the upholstery having rotted long ago. A set of closed double doors stood on the east side of the chamber, the words “Hall of Recognition” carved into the stone above the door. To the north were two closed doors, to the south a single closed door. The dust on the floor was the only indication of activity in the room, having been recently kicked up by someone or something. Several sets of foot prints could clearly be seen coming and going from the Hall of Recognition. Nothing had moved to or from the other rooms. Teltz decided to ignore the unused room and went towards the double doors when he stumbled over something on the floor. 

The sunrod illuminated a binder with notes. The bard picked it up and found it to be a on an experiment. In the dim light, the notes were almost impossible to read and Teltz wished scientists would be required to have a neater handwriting. The notes were not all in the same writing though, some looked perfectly readable and female, referring to substances used on a test object and cultures of flesh subjected to poisons and molds and other things. It did not seem to make much sense. All Teltz could imagine was that these halls had been some sort of lab before and Fendel had found the notes and gone investigating on his own. The research notes dated back 60 years, that much he could make out. 

The doors to the next room were party open, and so Teltz carefully peaked around to see if anything was moving. Like a giant spider, or centipede, or, what would not surprise him either, the animated remains of the girl's uncle. But there was nothing like that. 

This large chamber was adorned with ornamental tracery carved into the walls and ceiling. Large bas-reliefs, each ranging from eight to twelve feet tall, adorned the long walls, four bas-reliefs on each side. These bas-reliefs depicted various figures: four humans, a dwarf, two elves, and a halfling.
Each was rendered in beautiful detail, showing their armor, weapons, and faces in stark relief. Six statues stoond scattered about the room. They depict humans, an elf, a gnome, and a dwarf, each statue bearing even more detail than the bas reliefs, depicting even the specific lines of body form and
facial features.

Coming inside, Teltz held the sunrod up high to see more. It seemed the bras reliefs were actually statues set in the walls. This seemed strange and rang an alarm bell. To the bard, this screamed 'constructs trying to crush you once triggered." The question was, what was the trigger? Could not be coming inside or passing through, as in that case, he would have found the remains of uncle Fendel in this room. He thought his best bet was to move carefully and not touch any of the statues. 

The door at the end of the hall was also party open, and Teltz made it to there with no problem, although he felt stared at. The eyes of the statues did not seem to move when he looked but it was still a creepy feeling. A part of him just wanted to turn around and leave. He was sure to be very quiet, lest a sound activated those things. 

The next room showed signs of horrible deeds performed both in the past and recently. A sturdy, wooden table outfitted with manacles and leather body-straps sat in the middle of the room, stained with old blood and bile. Rusty surgical implements and bones littered the floor. Three solid, metal doors stood on the north wall, each slightly ajar. A fresh, eviscerated corpse of a middle aged man was lying near the southeast corner of the room.

That had to be uncle Fendel, Teltz knew. His niece would not be too happy to hear what she had already feared was true, however, that was the bard's least worry right now. Something dangerous had killed the man, so he would not linger here. As carefully not to make any sound as before, he went closer. 

A small, tattered book caught his attention next to the dead and already smelling man. Holding his breath,.Teltz retrieved it. A Pathfinder's diary. One Aygrim Bossel, a name Teltz had never heard. It was also dated back 60 years and ended about 10 years ago. The accounts were written in a much better hand. Skimming through, the bard was surprised to read that the inn above had once been a small Pathfinder lodge. This Bossel trapped several of their researchers down here when what he described as "ancient evil" broke free. After that, the Pathfinder disbanded his lodge and founded the inn to watch over what was down here and make sure it would never get out. It sounded as if the man felt guilty and didn't want to ask for help because of that. But the story was also somewhat disjointed, giving the appearance of someone who was already senile. The last entries were from 10 years ago. 

Deciding he could read this later, the bard looked around once more. The doors to the north wall looked more like storage chambers or cells. They were all closed, but the dust was disturbed all over, likely when whatever was in there now had killed the poor man. And considering the lack of remains of the supposed researchers, it could also be reasoned that they had either been completely devoured or transformed into something else. He was not going to take chances with that. Moving as quietly as he could to the left door, he placed a hand on it while reaching for his spell components. He withdrew a small, golden likeness of a key and mumbled the words for the arcane lock to take. He felt the shift under his hand as the door magically locked, only to be opened by him or anyone able to break the spell. He then rushed to the middle door and repeated the process. By the time he had reached the last door, something was stirring inside, as he had not been able to avoid all sound, having had to talk to cast. He repeated the spell once more, and as the golden key figure kept shrinking with each spell, he also felt more and more drained of arcane energy. But he also felt elated, as he thought he had just defeated what someone missed to defeat 60 years ago. 

A sound at his back made him turn swiftly. A secret door had opened on the south wall, and he cursed at himself for not having thought to check the area for hidden passages. There had been little time but still...

Two young men with cudgels, sunrods and wicked looking daggers at their side were now coming into the room. They seemed to be part of some gang or the other, but what Teltz noticed most in the now relatively bright light between their sunrods was the vacant look in the eyes of one of them and the confusion evident in the other. Either they were on drugs or influenced by someone. Almost automatically, his hands formed the symbol of magical detection while he spoke the necessary words. Immediately, he saw a sick yellow glow around the targets. They were under a spell, alright, some sort of influence, and from the looks of it probably a domination spell. The bard frowned as they lifted their cudgels and advanced. He now had the feeling he was in above his head with this. Ancient evils and probably dominated gang members... it spelled "vampire" to him all too clearly. 

Now Teltz had no intention to hurt anyone who was dominated. The two advancing fighters looked well capable of being able to harm him though, and he would be hard pressed to defend against two cudgels with a rapier he had not used in a while. And from all he knew about vampires, the vampire dominating them had to be close by. Which might or might not be what he locked behind the doors. And he had to make a decision quick.


----------



## Lwaxy (Jan 31, 2012)

Bjön's Pathfinder Diary

7th of Neth



It has not been easy for me hiding the truth from the captain and crew. Of course they were all sincerely sorry, and went on about how it is a miracle that even one of us was back, and how it was a blessing that the cultists were all gone for good. I kept to myself for fear of letting something slip, and as the crew took my demeanor for the mourning of friends, they left me mostly alone. 

The way back to the shore is as tricky as the crew had feared. The early winter weather will force us to come close to the shore much earlier than I had hoped. My plan, with which the captain originally agreed, was to make to the west and then come to the shore just inside Molthune waters. The crew has no qualms with that country, as they often trade there, too. Now, the plan is to get to the coastal waters within Druma, right at the peak of the peninsula peaking into the Lake. This is not at all good. It is where the others plan to reach coastal waters as well, following the coast even more closely than we plan to and then go south towards Detmer. 

I pray to Desna that we do not accidentally come across their boat. It is not possible to hide a kobold doing most of the sailing, and the crew would recognize Kronk immediately. But maybe my main worry should be that they make it to the shore at all.  





Teltz ducked under yet another swing and was very grateful for the wand of mage armor he had managed to use just before the fight had begun. If not for that, he would have probably already been incapacitated. Looking back, he should have probably just used one of the other, more offensive wand, but to hurt someone who was not free in their will was not something he managed easily. Foolish, considering what might be at stake if he died. 

His rapier landed a hit and cut a deep gash in one of the foe's tighs.Both of the fighters had some gashes already, but none of them were deep and unfortunately, not of them really bled enough to cause them to become weaker. 

The bard's backside stung from a kick of those nail studded boots of theirs and for a moment, he considered his life long bad luck with this part of his body. He stopped himself and tried to focus once more. No, he would not start with memories right now, lest his whole life would just run by and he would be dead. 

Once more the bard tried to avoid a blow, letting himself fall backward. He could feel the swoosh of air where the cudgel had barely missed his left shoulder. He lost his grip on the rapier, and the weapon clattered to the ground, landing next to his discarded sunrod. All light sources were strewn over the room, and the impression of the two attackers being illuminated from the ground was an eerie one. 

With a course, Teltz rolled over. His backside ached even more after the fall, and something had pressed itself hard against one of his back pockets. Instinctively, he reached behind to remove the offending item, barely aware that this might be the last thing to do in his life. He retrieved a small vial with something liquid. For the briefest moment he stared at it, trying to remember how it got there. Then he remembered. 

A hurled dagger tore a gash in his shirt, surprisingly missing his arm. Teltz quickly did something he would normally never do, throwing his only remaining weapon at the attacker who had just barely missed him. He missed as well, but the others stopped for a moment. Just when they wanted to move again, he aimed again and threw again. His foes stared in confusion; no doubt they were well aware of how many weapons he had had. When something shattered at their feet, they seemed to be even more confused, which was just what Teltz had hoped for. 

To confuse them even more because he needed to win another moment, he asked the most silly thing he could think of. "May I please have my dagger back?" 

One only grunted, the other laughed and shook his head. But as they wanted to advance again, both were unable to move. Teltz jumped for his rapier and the sunrods and couldn't help but grin widely. 'Magical glue,' he thought. 'Gotta love the stuff.' He had to hurry though, lest the two of them figured out they only had to get out of their boots to free themselves. 

A growl from the secret door made him freeze for a moment. Two large hyenas definitely not from this world stood there, staring at him with glowing red eyes. Summons, no doubt, which unfortunately meant there was another vampire here, possibly the original who had spawned the others. What was even worse than those summons were the group of archers with short bows showing up behind them, flanking a woman vampire clad in a ridiculously revealing black dress and high heeled shoes. "Sure thing," Teltz muttered. "First thing any woman does when being set free after 60 years is to buy a dress and new footwear." 

The vampire hissed, and as much as he could guess, she was about to make some sort of speech, or maybe try to dominate him. As he had little else, Teltz hauled two of the sunrods at the 'ancient evil' as a distraction and grabbed the alchemist's fire, firmly pushing out of his mind any warning about flames in close, and especially closed, quarters while retreating towards the room with the statues. As he felt the door behind him, he saw the hyenas charge. "Sorry, guys," he muttered. Summons or not, it was not their fault they were here. The flask landed between them and burst into flames. He had not aimed as well as he had hoped, so one of the creatures made it through, but Teltz was already out of the room banging the door shut. The vampire screeched for her dominated entourage to fire, but the arrows just bounced off the door.

Taking a few steps backwards in haste, Teltz bumped into the statue of the old dwarf standing closest to the door. Immediately, he heard the grind of stone on stone as the statue began to move. "Uh-oh," Teltz groaned. "I have a bad feeling about this." 

As he turned and tried to get past the dwarf construct, he heard the door open again. The statue reached out for him as all the others in the room began to move. His mind raced once more. Vampires, constructs, old Pathfinder lodge, Hall of Recognition... so the statues must be of Pathfinders. Pathfinder lodge would mean a Pathfinder could pass, most likely. They would recognize one how? The symbol, maybe. Yes, that was probably it! 

Teltz fumbled for the journal he had found with Lennie's uncle. It had the Pathfinder symbol right in front of it. "Pathfinder," he shouted and waved the book right in front of the stone dwarf's face. "I'm the good guy, see? That is the bad one!" He pointed at the vampire now entering the room from under the door in gaseous form and rematerialized. 

It worked. First the dwarf, then all the other statues turned to face the new arrival. Teltz didn't linger; he knew enough about vampires to realize she would keep summoning or just follow him as a gas. The sound of battle erupted behind him, but it would take only moments for the evil girl to notice she could not do much about the constructs. As he was almost at the door to the entrance hall, he heard the rough bark of new summons. From the howling, the constructs took care of that problem, at least. 

As he limped though the double doors and started to close them, he saw his current #1of women he didn't want to date going gaseous again and groaned. As the doors closed with a screech, he more stumbled then walked to the door to the wine cellar and had trouble remembering the knocking sequence. He had lost the sunrod just inside the Hall of recognition, but he could see the slip of light shining out from under the door, so the blood sucking chick would be there any moment. 

As the door was opened, he basically fell into the cellar, knocking the innkeeper's daughter over and into the room. "Close," he gasped. "Quick." 

"Why? What's wrong?" The girl, who had taken the time to sort through the wine, was beginning to panic because Teltz himself was panicking. She took long to get up and off him. 

"Don't ask! Close the...."

But it was too late. Materializing within the opening was the form of the eerily beautiful but cruel looking creature who would want their blood in a moment.Her fangs blinked in the dimming light of the lantern the girl had brought. "You cannot escape me," she hissed. The girl fainted. 

"You know," Teltz said while getting up and catching his breath, " you really need to work on your opening lines. That was so cliche." 

Indignation flashed over the woman's face. "It worked on her," she said drily. "And I will work on you now."

Teltz' mind was tired of trying to think of new possibilities. His pouch was half torn off, and he was not sure if he could find the fire producing wand in his cloak even if he would have the time to try. Walking backwards again, he stumbled against one of the shelves. "Are you at least going to tell me your name? You do have a name, no? Not just a number, like, spawn 104 or something?"

She didn't even acknowledge his attempt at confusing her. "I am Taylin Harkus," she said and came closer. "The name will be nothing to you but if you really need to know, I can spend a little courtesy."

"Wine?" Teltz said, grabbing one of the bottles and holding it out towards her. "Almost like blood and a lot more romantic."

For a moment, she frowned. "You are somewhat funny, maybe I'll turn you into a spawn as well." Another step closer, she now opened her fangs and made ready to bite. One of her slender hands reached out for his face. Teltz, still holding out the wine bottle, had no way to recoil any further. Maybe he should ask for a last gulp from the bottle...

Then he read it. 'Blessed Wine Church of Iomedae, Harvest Festival.' His eyes went wide. Harkus mistook that as a sign of fear. Only when the bottle landed with full force on her head did she notice the smile or triumph in the bard's face. Her hand dropped from his face as the wine ran down on her, hissing and burning. She stared at the drops landing on her hands, not comprehending what was going on. Teltz grabbed another bottle which turned out to be the same label and repeated the process. When he reached behind himself for the 3rd time, an unworldly screech came out of the undead's mouth. She was not down yet, of course, and reached for him once more. Teltz ducked to the side and out of her grasp, looking for what he knew every wine cellar should have. He found several of the handy items. 

To open a barrel, each cellar of an inn (and usually the tap room, too) held small wooden hammers and small wooden stakes. Teltz quickly grabbed one of each and then allowed her to get a hold on him again. When she tried to find him through her melting facial features, he put the hammer and stake to work. "It seems I got right to your heart, after all," he shouted as he drove the wood home. 

The body of the undead went rigid, and then she dropped with a loud thud. Teltz' hand went to his rapier, but he had lost it somewhere. Knowing the domination over the others back in there must now be broken, he took went back to the anteroom to retrieve his weapon. No one seemed to follow him anymore, although there was still the sound of walking constructs. 

A rapier, as he found out, was a bad weapon to decapitate a vampire. Or anyone, probably. He had to resort to stepping on the torso and tearing at the half melted head to get the job done finally. Just has he held the head in his right hand by the equally half gone hair,. The girl woke up again, looked at the scene and fainted again. "Just my luck," he muttered as he emptied another bottle of holy wine over the woman's head. He was not so sure his former actions would count towards permanently removing the evil from this world. "I know one thing for sure, I won't have a blind date with any ancient evil anymore if I can avoid it." But he would have to send someone for the remaining vampires in their cells.

---------------------------------------------

This scenario is quite different in the original, not only because of the changed location. There were so many logical oversights in it I wonder it was published at all. 

Originally, there were supposed to be dominated street fighters in the rooms north and south to the entrance hall - while there were no trails going there, nor was there any explanation how anyone, the uncle included, could have passed the hall with the constructs if they would attack anyone trying to move past. It might have made sense with the pathfinder symbol as excuse if only for the uncle, but not with the fighters. The player came up with the idea that it must be the symbol so of course I went with that idea as it was creative. 

There were other rooms behind the secret door leading to an abandoned prison of the city guard. Why a vampire would store so many guard all over her secret hideout (especially on the side she could not seriously expect an attack from) and thus risking someone breaking the dominate and discovering her is beyond me as well. 

But the way it turned out was just fun, at the time of him sending the statues against her and then with the holy wine - which I placed there mainly to rescue the PC (and to hint at opening another bottle for the game) - everyone was laughing hysterically. The others, who were also playing at the other side of the table, were so fascinated by the situation they didn't get far until Teltz was done.


----------



## Azkorra (Jan 31, 2012)

Have you seen that this scenario was actually retired from Pathfinder Society play by Paizo? And the reviews over there at Paizo also tend to match your personal impression. 

However, your version of it really read like fun. Good stuff!


----------



## Lwaxy (Jan 31, 2012)

Ah, no I hadn't checked which scenarios were the retired ones. Makes sense now why some of them get retired.


----------



## Lwaxy (Feb 6, 2012)

*Master of the Fallen Fortress* (changed locations, not otherwise adapted - except by the party)



"C-can it be fixed?" Staring at the damaged boat, Mook was the first to ask the question which was in everyone's mind. Their not so seaworthy boat had made it to the shore, but not undamaged. They had had to hide behind some rocks to wait for the passing of the paladin's vessel, and a wave from the tricky waters had smashed them against the stone. They had barely managed to make to to shore, and it took a while to drag the heavy thing onto ground and survey the damage. Only now the water had all drained out of the two fist sized holed at backboard. 

Zaza was the only one not paying attention; the few minutes it had taken to reach safety had felt like ages to her, and she was more sea sick than ever, even after at least half an hour on solid ground. She was not even looking at the sea, instead sitting on a stranded log a few steps away, staring inland. 

"I'm not sure," Cajun replied. "We had boats with more damage at Kassen every now and then but they were a bit smaller and easier to handle, and there were experienced people to do the main work. I had only to make the iron bands holding it all together, and luckily, those are not damaged here. If they were, I would not be able to replace them."

"If we had all the tools, it could be fixed," Kronk said after careful inspection. "But aside of a view multi-use tools from Cajun, we have no carpenter's tools. And I already searched the boat, nothing there either."

"Isn't there something alchemical you can do to close the holes, at least until we reach the next port?" Brenn-Krell asked. The man was fully healed now, and the end of his strange double existence would come about in a few hours, by Kronk's calculation. 

"No glue I can create could close this, and I would not have any materials at hand to make it anyway," Cajun sighed. 

"Just g-great, and there is m-more storm c-coming. We can't b-be in the b-boat for sh-shelter, it m-may wash out t-to the s-sea again," Mook stuttered, getting angrier by the minute. She had changed somewhat after her encounter with the dragon skeleton, but even she could not pout a finger on what exactly was different. Just one thing was clear, she was not shy about her stutter anymore. 

"If it does, we are not worse off than now," Cajun said. "Unless we find a way to fix this, we are really in trouble. We have neither the provisions nor the time nor the stamina to walk all the way to the next city. And no one knows if there are any other towns or villages nearby. We have no map of the area, even." He had checked that early on them leaving the island. The only map was of the shoreline and major city placements.

For all his former attempts at taking the lead, Brenn-Krell was, at least in his current state, not much of a leader. They were all missing Bjön, however insecure the paladin might have been at times, and they were missing Teltz even more. It was as if everyone was expecting someone else to take the initiative. 

"Where are w-we, anyway?" Mook wondered. "N-not too f-far into the r-river, I think."

"Just behind the eastern point of the peninsular," Kronk confirmed. "And while I came down the Profit's Flow – that is their weird name for this river - hidden on a barge, I only got to Detmer before taking off and going by land. So I know of no settlements, or even roads, around here."

"How is Detmer like?" Hest wanted to know.

The monk snorted. "Large shipyards for their fleets, lots of suspicion towards strangers.The people of this region are weird, they value trade above all else and wouldn't have let me in all by myself. So I had to be a stowaway. Their security is good, and a few times I was almost discovered. Somewhat human centric, too, as as far as I could glean, their strange prophecies are only meant to favor humans."

Before anyone could ask any more questions, Zaza spoke up for the first time in hours. "That's nice to know and all, but maybe we should care for the immediate problems first. Like, finding shelter from the storm. Getting wet in this time of year is not good." 

"She has a p-point," Mook agreed. "Do we have all our stuff?"

Cajun went over the bundles and backpacks again and nodded. "Maybe we can salvage parts of the boat to build a shelter."

"There is a large building over the crest of the hill there," Zaza said, pointing towards where she had been looking inland. "Looks like a ruin from here, but there will be enough left to shelter us from wind and probably from rain – or snow," she added, looking wearily at the clouds. She knew enough about weather to see the signs of winter approaching very fast.

"Right, then, let's go," Cajun said, looking at the others for agreement. Everyone else nodded, so they began to make their way up the hill. Mook was on her wolf again, and Samin's hawk was scouting the area from above. 

They made down the other side of the hill and now saw that the ruins once had been an old border keep, or maybe a siege fort of sorts. It must have been in ruins for quite some time. No doors or windows marred the otherwise smooth expanse of the tower’s walls. The tower was clover shaped in plan; its eastern wing had largely collapsed, exposing the interior floors to the open air. Only the topmost level seemed whole, though its eastern portion hung precariously over the mountain of rubble left by the collapse. At ground level, the rubble framed a gaping hole in the side of the building that provided access to the tower’s darkened interior. The tower was about 80 feet tall, by Cajun's estimation, and the walls were surprisingly smooth. 

As the group entered, it became obvious that the collapse of the eastern wing had caved in much of the tower's first level, too. The south wing was totally filled with rubble, which left only the northern wing, and a small part of the west one, accessible. The west win's staircase was blocked by rubble, but without the need for it, no one wanted to climb up into a potentially dangerous situation anyway. The northern wing of the tower seemed to have escaped the worst effects of the collapse, but rubble still littered the floor and everything was covered in a thick layer of stone dust. Thick cobwebs cloaked the ceiling and hung down the walls like gossamer tapestries. A single archway stood open in the southwest wall. 

"Well, it is not much," Edawon concluded. "But it is out of rain and wind, and we can make a fire."

"I d-don't think so," Mook quietly said and pointed upwards to the north wing roof, stopping the halfling from entering. A thick web, partly covered by dust, could be seen in a corner to their left. A giant spider was peeking its head out of a nest in the middle of it. 

"Just great," Samin groaned. "I hate spiders." 

"J-just b-back out," Mook advised. "If we d-don't come to c-close, it will n-not attack."

"So back out into the brewing storm?" Samin asked, almost as disgusted about that idea. 

"Up a level," Cajun said drily. "You can fly up, and you will have a flying spell left for anyone who might not be able to climb up on the rope you'll take with you. Spider won't be up there, and they neither." He pointed in a by-the-way manner to the outside, where Dadawin was growling at a bunch of wild dogs who might have thought they could grab one of the party as prey. Wilbur was circling over them, swiping down on them every now and then. The dogs looked hungry, but Dadawin was at full strength so they did not dare to take it up against a large wolf and a hawk. 

"The p-poor things, I wish we could f-feed them," Mook mumbled.

"That bears the question – how do we get Dadawin up there?" Zaza wondered. "Remember the last time we tried to lift him up a tree?"

"Erk," Cajun made and rubbed his arm, where the scar caused by a panicked wolf was still evident. 

"I dare say he and Wilbur will do fine on their own as long as they avoid the spider," Samin thought. "If we hear they are in trouble we can come to their aid." 

No one argued with that, so Samin took a rope and, as Cajun called it, "spelled himself up there." The crumbling remains of the upper room had plenty of opportunity to fasten a rope, as Samin's strength would not have been enough to lift anyone but maybe Zaza up. He threw a worried look at the two doors, one to the northwest and one to the southwest, but both were closed and no dark monster came out of them. Samin called himself an idiot for his worries. After all they had seen recently, he should really not be such a coward. But after seeing the spider, he could not help it. 

Zaza and Mook came up one after the other, then Edawon and the sorcerer. Then they waited for Cajun to fasten their extra sacks of stuff from the island to the rope and brought it up. Cajun climbed up last, he could have probably done so without the rope seeing how he had been rock climbing since he was a small half-orcling. 

The ledge that had formed up here was not out of the wind enough even if you moved a little back, so after a moment of discussion, they decided to see if there was a better place for the night behind one of those doors. They decided on the northwest one, which opened with difficulty – the wooden doors had become stuck due to the weather conditions and age. This room was mostly empty. Judging from the shelves lining the walls, this darkened room might once have been a storeroom, though its contents had long since succumbed to the passage of time. A crack in the northern wall had apparently let in some rainwater, which had collected in large puddles on the floor.

"What's that?" Cajun asked all of a sudden, pointing at a lizard making their way towards them. It was a dark blue, lighter at the stomach and glowed with electricity. Strangely enough, it didn't behave like a wild animal, but stopped close to them, banging its tail on the floor. An electric shock involuntarily went off and hit all of them but Brenn-Krell and Mook, who were still standing at the opening looking at the wolf taking up a guard position outside. 

Some screams of pain and annoyance later, Zaza threw a bit of dried meat out to the creature, who eagerly devoured it. "Hey, don't feed it," Cajun complained. "It will just follow you around and shock us all over again!" 

"It looks tame," Zaza mused, ignoring her brother, feeding the animal another bite. 

"Yeah, and that's strange. Either someone has gotten rid of it, or its master is nearby," Edawon said, his face darkening. 

"Who keeps shocker lizards as pets?" Zaza wondered. "Some sort of mage working with lightning?"

"Maybe we should ask if someone is home and ask for permission to stay," Cajun suggested. 

"Not like this place looks maintained – at all," Brenn-Krell snorted. 

The lizard, noticing there was no more food to be had, wandered off harmlessly while his energy recharged. "Maybe check out the other room instead?" Edawon suggested. 

"Or we follow the pet to its master. It looks way too confident not to have one," Kronk said. When everyone looked at him he shrugged. "What? It is not like we would run into a large group of evil folks. I mean, if there would be a lot of people here, they would have taken notice of us by now."

"Yeah well, not so sure about that," Cajun said, scratching the meager beard he had grown over the last few days. "But as Bjön would say, if something evil is brewing, we ought to check it out anyway."

"Who are, we, the moral police?" Zaza questioned. "We are to meet the others in that place upriver, whatever it was called. Not to play at being heroes when I don't think we really are. We were just lucky! If we bother with too much crap on the road we'll just be late!" Folding her arms, she tried to stare her older brother down. 

While this had been successful in the future, it was not now. "From what I gather, Bjön can't even be back in Tamran yet. Before he gets Samin's da and makes for that city down south, we will probably be half way there. We have a time advantage. And would you really want us to walk on and not know what is in our backs?"

"L-let's check it out," Mook said calmly. "I c-can f-feel something is here t-that n-needs our attention. It may b-be evil, but I c-can also feel lost s-souls in n-need of g-guidance."

"What?" Zaza stared at Mook. "You have changed, haven't you? What's going on with you?"

"I have n-no idea," Mook replied calmly. "B-but we can think of it a-after we d-dealt with this." 

"Cajun is right." Brenn-Krell was slightly shivering, according to Kronk's earlier tales of transformations like this one, it was a sign of the impending end of the change. The group noticed Kronk looking thoughtfully at the fetchling. Mook remembered the monk had tried, several times, to mention some side effects with the transformation, especially that it was not well tested on non-kobolds. But anytime he had tried he had been interrupted by someone or something, the last time by the leak in their boat. 

"Anyone else agreeing with my fool headed oaf of a brother?" Zaza growled. The silence that followed, and everyone looking at her with serious eyes told her she was the only one who would prefer to just not know, try to spend the night and then carry on. With a sigh, she turned towards the other door out of this puddle filled and not very comfortable room. "Well, then, let's try and get ourselves killed." 

There seemed to be nothing wrong with the door to the next room, so Cajun pulled at it with all his power. To his surprise, it opened easily and he almost landed on his behind before he regained his balance. A terrible stench, like a mix of carrion, rotten eggs and spoiled fish all thrown in the sewer drifted from what must have been an armory once. Racks for weapons lined the walls of this chamber; above the racks hung various shields, pieces of armor, weapons, and standards on display. Most of the racks were empty, but a few weapons remained in place. They were rusty and largely unusable, of course. Zaza started vomiting at the stench, the others barely kept their food in. 

Two immature looking reptile-like humanoids jumped to their feet, waking up from sleeping on their watch by the looks of it. Picking up two javelins, they made to attack. "Are those... troglodytes?" Samin gasped. He had read about them and their unbearable stench, but never thought to encounter any, especially not so far off the open sea. Without thinking about it, he moved his right hand into his belt pouch and withdrew a small clay model of a building the others could not recognize and mumbled a spell barely audible. Then he addressed the attacking younglings while Brenn-Krell and Cajun easily moved out of the way of their clumsy attack. The half-orc was carrying too much baggage to draw his weapon in time, but the fetchling had out his new short sword in no time. "Why are you attacking us? We mean you no harm." 

Both attackers stopped and stared wide eyed at the three-quarter-elf, who had to fight with his stomach all the time, trying not to let any disgust show on his face. Likely, none of the troglodytes had ever heard their language coming from a member of another race. Additionally, Samin thought he might still sound funny to them. 

The others but Zaza, who was still retching, stared at Samin and then at their foes. Cajun and Mook knew, of course, that Samin was able to speak any language as long as he had access to arcane energy, but this was the first time they had heard him speak anything really weird. He had used the spell for orcish before, and for gnome, and the occasional strange traders coming through, but this was something different. 

"You understand us!" one of the younglings gaped. 

"Great, so now that we both agree on the obvious, would you maybe tell me why you were attacking us?" Samin, once more, felt kind of besides himself, listening to himself talk in some self assured manner, seemingly ignoring an obvious threat. And, at the same time, he felt a strange power in him and he just knew he could deal with this. 

"N-need to d-do something about that a-awful smell!" Mook exclaimed. Before she could think of anything specific, the air suddenly filled with the scent of roses and violets, with a hint of cinnamon and vanilla. Her mind dissected the scents – some of her favorites- and only then was she wondering where it came from. She looked at Samin, who had not noticed anything or so it seemed. But everyone else including Zaza and the two troglodytes now stared at her. From the faces of the reptiles, it seemed they hated that scent as much as the party hated theirs. 

"What did you do?" Zaza asked, baffled. 

"Me? W-why me?" Mook replied, utterly confused. 

"Because," Cajun said, "it emanates from you." 

"Why w-would it?" Mook started again, but Samin made a wave with his left arm and then pointed at the younglings. "What do you protect here?" he asked, clearly demanding an answer but trying to display a non-aggressive stance. 

"They have magics," one of them whispered to the other. "Dangerous."

"Yes, we can be dangerous when attacked. Now, what were you supposed to be standing guard for?"

"I don't like what he is doing." Cajun stared at the back of his best friend as if he didn't know him at all. "Anytime we encounter someone hostile, he just talks to them and it is fine. Remember the crypt? And the lizards on the island?" 

Zaza could hear true worry in her brother's voice. "It is not like he has never surprised us with the changing power of his arcane uniqueness before," she said. 

Cajun grunted at that. "I don't like what Mook is doing either," he added with a nod of his head towards the oracle. "Both of them are changing and they do not know what is up, which means they cannot control it, which in turn makes it dangerous in my eyes." 

Zaza tried to stare her brother down again. "You are talking about our best friends here!"

"Exactly. To help them, we need to know what's going on, and maybe we are better at finding out what it is than them." The alchemist looked determined not to let this go.

"Once we are back with Teltz, he'll sort it out," Zaza shrugged and tried to ignore Cajun's worries. Teltz had always sorted anything out Kassen's local spell casters could not deal with. Sure all this was just the stress of the last weeks adding up. But a bit of doubt remained. 

Samin seemed to have come to an agreement with the younglings. He was just introducing the kobold, who was held in relatively high regard by the troglodytes, as it seemed. It made some sense; even with the kobold being a lot smaller, they were both reptile like. 

One by one, the others were introduced to Hark and Pilder, so the names of the younglings. "They'll take us to their leader," Samin explained. "They seem not to know very much, except that they want a new age for their race."

Cajun rolled his eyes when no one but Zaza and Edawon could see it. "Yeah," he whispered as everyone made for the staircase in the middle of the tower, which was not blocked up here. "And I have a feeling making a name for themselves has to do with dark rituals and other evil deeds to conquer the world. Isn't it always like that?" 

Edawon shrugged. "I can't really say, and I have seen a bit more of the world than you have." Zaza chuckled. 

Cajun decided it was time to keep his mouth shut before he would put another foot in.


----------



## Lwaxy (Feb 7, 2012)

Bad cold related joint pains, so super slow typing for me.

----------------


Climbing up the staircase, Cajun threw worried glances at Mook. He wondered if it was only him noticing that the oracle seemed to have trouble moving, every now and then holding her lower back. The alchemist tried to recall if she had fallen or otherwise could have hurt herself, but there was no memory of any such event. Cajun's remaining attention was on their troglodyte... guides? Captives? He was not sure, other than that he would not trust them. 

At the next landing the two younglings Hark and... Pilfer? Pilgrim? Cajun sighed inwardly, feeling very confused right now. Anyway, the two of them stopped and talked nervously to Samin, who relayed that they should not stop here because the "violent lieutenant" was living here. The young troglodytes seemed truly terrified about it, and so the party moved up to the next floor with them. 

All except Cajun. He was not sure what made him stay behind, maybe the need to make sure nothing fell into their backs. Grabbing his hammer and feeling for a flask of alchemist's fire, he made for the door to the room the door off the landing led to. He paused for a moment, straining to listen, but the thick door made it all but impossible to hear what was going on. He thought he heard some snoring, but he could not be sure. 

There was no way to push the distorted door open silently, so he bashed it right in. Stumbling forward, he noticed a room with old beds partly filled up with leaves and straw and the odd half rotten mattress. From 3 of the beds, sleepy reptilian eyes stared at him in disbelief. The stink was nauseating here, too, but Cajun managed to push it out of his mind, if barely so. Seeing the troglodytes, who tried to wake up with all the slowness of a reptilian body in cold weather, were no real threat at the moment, he switched the alchemist's fire he was still holding in his belt pouch for something less deadly but equally effective. 

'Sleep bomb' his master at Kassen had called this specific potion, made of the extracts of herbs and spiced with the sort of alchemical agents causing a cloud of gas to form. He had been warned that it would spread quick, so he would have to duck out of the room immediately. But it was also an advantage as it meant the cloud would dissipate quickly. Not the strongest of alchemical gadgets, to be sure, but now he was happy he had thought to bring the gifts of his  former master on their journey instead of some of the other things. 

It worked right as planned. Cajun decided he did not care much for the bitter taste when he could not escape the forming cloud of his assault entirely, but he felt only slightly dizzy and that was over in a moment or two. He was just about to bind his captives, when he heard his sister's voice behind him. "What are you doing? The others are up to find their leader."

"Yeah and I'm down here dealing with what Hulk and Pilfer were afraid of. What are you doing here?" the half-orc countered. 

"Looking for you." Zaza chuckled at Cajun messing up the names of the troglodytes, then went to help him bind them up. "I noticed you were missing, and then saw you throwing something in here. If you think it is necessary to check this landing out, you are probably right."

Cajun grunted agreement. Nice to see his sister, at least, show some sense. "Ready your crossbow, sis. I'm going to find this Taruk."

"Tulok," she automatically corrected him and did as he asked. "Just don't stand in my line of fire."

"Don't intend to!" Without checking if the adjacent door to the next room was locked, he bashed it in with his shoulder, once more struggling for balance. But he had picked the wrong door. This one was full of puddles as cracks in the walls and ceiling of this chamber had allowed rainwater to collect here, flooding the room and giving rise to a profusion of mold and fungus along the walls and ceiling. The only inhabitant was a giant frog, who jumped right up to attack Cajun. Why the stupid thing thought the half-orc looked like food was a mystery, but it seemed hungry enough to not be afraid. 

A crossbow bolt hit the frog square between the eyes and dropped it immediately. A surprised and happy "yay" sounded from behind the alchemist. Cajun lowered his hammer and grinned at his sister. "Nice shot there." 

"Thanks. Hey, did you see that?" Zaza waded through the ankle deep water towards a molded and broken table. A moment later she retrieved a small statue that looked like it was jade. "Trust you to find valuable stuff in the weirdest places," Cajun chuckled. 

They went back to the troglodyte barracks, somewhat elated at their find and easy success towards the giant frog. 



Up the stairs, their absence had not been noted yet. The remaining party emerged on the 5th floor. The four wings of the tower were completely open on this level, forming one great, cross-shaped chamber with arched ceilings. The decayed remnants of a carpet ran from the doorways at the end of each wing, meeting in the center, where the spiral staircase dropped out of sight below. A large, throne-like chair stood in the middle of the eastern wing next to a big chest. The light was dim as the daylight shining in through the archways was obscured by the clouds of the storm that was now beginning. 

A lizard figure looking somewhat defeated, or, as much as anyone could read reptile body language, struck by a loss, stood at the eastern archway, looking out into the distance. A very small albino crocodile was next to the troglodyte, making a hissing sound and thus alerting the leader to the party's presence. 

Hark and Pilder started to talk very fast to their boss. They were talking over each other, and it was obvious the leader – who looked like a shaman or druid with his tall scimitar made out of some sort of bone – didn't understand a word. A few hisses from him later, one of the younglings started all over again, pointing hastily to Samin, Brenn-Krell and Kronk in the process while ignoring the others. 

"Great, now we are 'everyone else' " Edawon joked. 

"I c-can live w-with that," Mook anounced. 

Brenn-Krell suddenly started coughing. A moment later, more shivers like before went over his body. His transformation back to his true self was beginning. "Bad timing," he gasped. 

"Worse than you might think," Kronk whispered before turning his attention back to the troglodytes. 

Just then Mook noticed the siblings missing and was about to mention it, when the troglodyte leader started speaking while coming closer with his pet. He seemed tense, but not openly aggressive. "his name is Tasskar," Samin translated. "And he claims this tower for himself. He says we should surrender as his slaves."

"Yeah, a-as if," Mook mumbled. As she said that, the room filled with the same scent from downstairs, pushing back the troglodyte smell. Tasskar's head swirled around and he stared at Mook, hissing something that sounded angry. 

Samin replied, calming Tasskar down a bit. Edawon wondered how long the tongues spell would hold, and if Samin could do it again. Without a way to talk to these creatures, there would certainly be violence. It was a wonder Samin was so good at negotiations, but Edawon had not known the young man long enough to really wonder about it. 

"C-cajun and Zaza are g-gone," Mook whispered. "I g-guess they were curious about t-the other l-level."

"Despite the warning from those two?" The halfling frowned. "But now that I think about it, we should have checked out that level first."

"Y-yeah. W-want to g-go look for them?" 

"I will. You stay here, he has noticed you and whatever you did with the air seemed to have at least impressed him." With that, Edawon slid back towards the stairway and down, leaving Mook to wonder why everyone was blaming her for some scent in the air.


----------



## Lwaxy (Feb 8, 2012)

Edawon basically flew down the somewhat slippery stairs, surefooted as most of the time. His right hand was already holding on to the crossbow  by the time he arrived at the landing one level down. The remnant of a bitter scent was hanging over the area. He recognized sleep wort and calm bark as the main ingredients of whatever Cajun must have thrown at the snoring troglodytes in their makeshift barracks. The door to the left was ajar, and the sound of fighting could be heard, including a curse from Zaza. Peeking through, he could see Cajun engaged in battle with a young but tall and strong troglodyte, while Zaza was trying to get another shot in. An arrow was sticking out of the left shoulder of their foe, but it didn't look like she had done any real damage. The troglodyte was making a good job out of keeping Cajun between himself and the rogue, making it hard for Zaza not to accidentally hit her brother. 

Cajun's hammer blocked the javelin of his opponent. It did not break, however, just vibrated. Cajun attacked again, and the troglodyte simply ducked out under the more clumsy weapon, dancing back a few staps with what looked like a sneer, again using the half-orc as cover. 

The stench down here was worse than anywhere else they had been, and Edawon could see that Zaza was about to vomit again. Holding his breath, he entered the room and fanned out to the right. The reptile would have a hard time using Cajun as cover for both of them. A moment later, he managed to get a clear line of fire already and sent a bolt at the back of their enemy. 

Until now, the troglodyte had not really noticed him, concentrating fully on avoiding the blows of the now very angry half-orc. Now that a crossbow bolt planted itself into its tail – not quite where the ranger had aimed at – it instinctively swirled around with a loud growl and more nauseating stench. The distraction was all Cajun needed to finally get through the cover and land a crushing blow on the reptile's right shoulder. With a screech, it dropped its weapon. 

If they had thought it defeated, they were utterly wrong, though. A howl that was a mix of anger and pain came from the reptile's snout as it hurled itself at Cajun, using claws and teeth to rip into the alchemist, who had no chance to use his hammer so quickly. Both Zaza and Hest sank more bolts into the back of the creature. Cajun went down with a curse. Being pinned down by the weight of his opponent he lost his grip on his weapon. Zaza hurried across the room, drawing her short sword now – one of those they had taken from the island's dead. Before Edawon could decide on any other course of action, it was all over as Zaza jumped on the back of the attacker and sank her sword half into its neck. The troglodyte collapsed. Zaza rolled off it and started to vomit again. 

With some difficulty, Cajun shoved the body off of himself. He had scratches in the face, and his leather armor was ripped and torn, but it had protected him well enough. "Ogrepiss," he cursed, what was unusual for the well mannered youth. "And that's what Samin wanted to leave in our back unchecked." 

"Thanks for the help," Zaza gasped as she was finally done retching. "I killed it, didn't I?"

"Sure looks like it." Edawon kicked the body and then pulled the sword out of it. "You may want this back." 

Zaza nodded and took the sword, which the ranger mostly cleaned on the body of their fallen foe, back into her possession. "So what now?" 

"There are some more rooms," Cajun pointed out, trying to ignore his burning scratches. "I'll be damned if I leave before i know what is in there."

"Look at this," Zaza pointed to a corner where a rusty box was open. . Several parts of non-troglodyte equipment in good state could be seen in there. "That's not from the reptiles. And it looks relatively new. Maybe they have waylaid someone?" The rogue went over to check the bundle. "Yeah, there is quite some stuff in here. Spells, potions, a rope, clothes, bow and arrows, leather armor, rapier... and hey, what's this?" The halfling held up a compass like object which was giving off a faint light. 

"I've seen this before," Cajun said. "When we met with this other Pathfinder after the temple affair."

"I don't remember.! Zaza put the thing back. "Does this mean they've killed a Pathfinder?"

"Likely enough," Edawon grunted. "Let's see what is in the next room, shall we?" 

"It is locked," Cajun grumbled and went back to the dead reptile to check if there were any keys. He got lucky. "Seems they have something valuable in there."

The door opened with a squeak a moment later. The room behind was tiny and dark. The air was stale and smelled somewhat of blood. In the northeast corner of the room, a man bound in manacles looked up with panic and exhaustion in his eyes. 

"Is that the guy who that gear belongs to?" Zaza went over in a rush, while Cajun followed more slowly. The keys he found fit for the manacles, too. The man in front of them was too weak to stand up on his own, Zaha and Cajun had to lift him to his feet. 

"Get out of there," Edawon rushed them. "We need to check up on Samin's diplomatic attempts." 

"Is this your stuff?" Zaza asked, pointing at the box. "Are you are Pathfinder?"

Thunder rolled outside, the storm being now in full force. The sound seemed to shake the human from his lethargy. "Yes... yes, I am. My name is Forsend, Balenar Forsend. I was planning to check out this old building when those monsters took me captive."

Edawon handed over his water, and Forsend drank hastily. "You look quite beat up."

The freed captive nodded and pointed at the body. "That beast beat me up at every opportunity. They wanted me to die for their demon god or something like it. I am lucky not to have been sacrificed yet!" 

"Get your stuff, then," Cajun said, waving to the others to stall more introductions. Truth to be told, he was already worried about the ranger having let slip the wizard's name. They were, after all, supposed to be dead and had yet to decide on a way to actually keep this presumption alive. Throwing their names around would not help things at all. "We have friends upstairs with the leader of those reptiles and two of the younglings, we bound the others in the next room."

"Why not just slay them now?" the human asked. 

"Not their fault they are what they are," Edawon answered with a weak smile. "We can decide what to do with them once the situation is resolved." With that, he turned and made for upstairs again. 




Quite a distance away, in the Molthune port of Korholm, a certain dwarven paladin stood next to the equally dwarven captain at the bow of his ship, looking decidedly impatient, if not angry. The storm pushing the waves up against the docks carried no rain, yet, but it was uncomfortably cold and not a situation in you wanted a boat like the Black Mist to be out and about. Captain Cygar was well aware of the fact and had decided to stop here rather than some unnamed bay a bit further west and risk being smashed against the shore. 

"So, they are not letting me off the boat because I'm a paladin, or because I am a citizen of Nirmathas?" he inquired. 

"Both, actually," the other dwarf said. "Paladins of Nirmathas have had quite a hand lately at thwarting the Molthune's army's attempts at invading."

"Yeah, I do not doubt that. But I have never been a part of Nirmathas' forces, one way or the other."

"Strictly speaking, neither are the other paladins, but as they see the Molthune state as a basically evil system, which, no doubt, it is... asides, I thought every Nirmathi was part of their forces."

"Yeah yeah," Bjön waved at the docks were guards were posted. "This basically means that they will turn back or worse, imprison or kill anyone going across the border if they suspect them to be of Nirmathas origin, right?"

"I'm afraid so," the captain nodded. "Why, do you want to visit someone?"

Thinking of the route he had planned him and Teltz to take to reunite with the others, the paladin grunted even more annoyed. "Yeah but I guess that will have to wait for some time."

"Times are rough, and they are about to get rougher all over the world, I guess. To set things right, we'd need a lot more paladins and other heroes, for the Worldwound alone." Cygar chuckled. "Or a really epic group of heroes, as in the very old sagas from before time."

For some reason, Bjön shivered when the captain said that, and not only from the icy wind. 





Samin felt exhaused, on a profound level independent of rest, food and drink or even the use of magic. He had had to renew his tongue spell twice, and he could not do it any more despite of his focus, but his magic potential was not used up yet. No, his exhaustion seemed to mostly stem from the fact that he had negotiated and talked and... done something else. Something that way beyond his control. Half the time, he had not been sure what his next words were when he had started talking, yet somehow he always seemed to say the right thing, calming the troglodytes here and reassuring them there, showing both understanding and power at the same time. Their demon god, he had soon seen, was the only thing they knew in the ways of religion, and he had wished a few times that Bjön was here to have a way to maybe set them on a lighter path. What he had, instead, was a stuttering oracle spreading a pleasant scent. What the troglodytes, or more specific, their leader, really wanted was a place out of the dark caverns back into the world they had once, so long ago, ruled in a more or less oppressive way. That was why they had prepared to make a human sacrifice. Samin had not managed to get specifics out of the druid, just that it didn't refer to their group. 

But Mook had done her part, unexpectedly. In the strange way of oracles, she had suddenly spoken up in the mingled draconic dialect of the troglodytes. To Samin's annoyance, he only got the beginning, something about the change of tides and winds blowing in different directions. The moment Mook's alter ego – as he usually called it when she went on such speaking in tongues without her stutter, which happened rarely enough – started addressing the troglodyte group's situation specifically, his spell ended and he couldn't understand a thing. 

The group from below came up to the top level just when Mook started speaking. The eyes of the Pathfinder with them widened at the sight; he of course recognized Mook for what she was. When the oracle was done, a long silence fell. Just before everyone was beginning to feel uncomfortable, the troglodyte raised a hand and pointed at the Pathfinder. In very broken common, he addressed them all. "Him keep, help clean temple yes? Make boney spirits go way. Do we will for woman say."

"Boney spirits?" Cajun mumbled, barely able to get the gist of the speech. "Sounds like undead all over again."

"We'll help," Samin nodded without asking anyone else. Suddenly, he had been shifted to the leader position. "But we need rest, now. It is getting late." The air in the damaged tower was in no way warmer that outside, and they would need to get a fire going. At least the air was still filled with that pleasant smell Mook somehow created.

Cajun had managed to work his way to Samin. "Say, can you make our rescue guy sleep with a spell, without him noticing? He is exhausted enough. Before we do anything else, we need to talk. Without anyone listening in!" The alchemist said it with as much insistence as he could muster. 

Samin nodded, waiting for the Pathfinder to turn and stare after the troglodytes – the younglings going down to free their companions after Zaza had used hands and feet to explain what had transpired, and their druid to the back of the room to sit in his ruined throne. Brenn-Krell caught the man before he fell, but then to everyone's surprise toppled over shivering and seizing.

Kronk was at the fetchling's side immediately. "He's transforming back. Let's go back down. They don't need to see," he indicated the troglodytes. "Can you carry him?"

He was tired and aching from the fight before, but Cajun still nodded and lifted the fetchling, who was surprisingly light. Samin and Kronk carried the much lighter, almost starved Pathfinder and his belongings downwards to where they had left their stuff before climbing up. There they made a makeshift camp right in the stairway, as the smoke could go up and it was a place more easily kept warm. 

"We need to talk," Cajun replied as he made the fetchling comfortable. Edawon has let slim your name, Samin, and if the Pathfinder remembers later and tells someone the Society will know we are not dead and probably hunt us for not delivering what they wanted to get their hands on, maybe even believing we still have it. Bjön warned us of such!"

The halfling ranger paled a little, realizing he had made a bad mistake. "I'm so sorry, it is just..."

"Yeah, we all need to get used to this. We need new cover names. A change of appearance," Cajun said, well aware how difficult that would be for some of them, specifically him and the kobold. 

"Yes, all that is good and well." Kronk snarled. "But can it wait until after he has transformed back?" 

Everyone looked at the shifting form of Brenn-Krell, who seemed to have some trouble reverting. His skin was still way too grey and his facial features a lot more shadow like. His hair had taken on a greyish blond hue. "Yes, it can wait," Cajun conceeded. "Is this normal?"

The monk sighed. "Sometimes... actually, quite often... some of what we transfer into stays behind. That is actually the hope of everyone undertaking the transformation. In the case of kobolds, who did not actually invent this procedure, we all want to be more like dragons, no matter what color we are. Some of us are born with draconic features already. Most others who know about the possibility will strive to get their hands on the substance causing this."

"I see. But it is not dangerous, is it?" Zaza felt the man's head, which seemed to be hotter than usual. 

"Not physically, no. But he might not only retain the knowledge and some appearance of Krell, but also keep some of the memories, and that..."

"Y-yes," Mook nodded her understanding. The memories of his ancestor, not quite knowing who he really was, had already stressed the sorcerer a lot. There was no telling what would happen if this state would turn out to be permanent.


----------



## Lwaxy (Feb 21, 2012)

Some issues with the session notes being stuck in an impounded car and me not having been able to GM one of the sessions led to a bad delay in posting. Sorry about that. Due to the lost notes, part of this is a short version of the end of the adventure

Our opinion about Master of the Fallen Fortress is that it is a good solid starting adventure, especially when used in the intended location and circumstances. There were the usual small errors attributed to the way d20 based RPGs seeminly are supposed to work (fight it, kill it, loot it) but we don't adhere to. 

---------------------------------------


The weather had cleaned up during the day, but the same could not be said for the mood of the party making their way on foot to the next settlement. It was going slow, not only because of the shorter members of the team.

In the morning, they had been surprised by the Pathfinder's decision to stay with the troglodytes. Strangely enough, the lizards seemed happy about it, maybe because Forsend had known a way to get into the temple of Nethys without alerting the traps. Knowledge, he had assured them, had been the key to their old empire's creation, and knowledge would serve them way better again than following an evil god they seemed only half-heartedly interested in to begin with. 

The impossibility to repair their boat well enough to make it upriver had not been such a big surprise. Several days on foot to their interim destination – Detmer – they had been told, but there were villages at the river before then where they could stock up and adapt their appearances. 

They would have to reinvent themselves, it had been decided. With what Samin had told them about him and his father running from someone even not knowing what exactly, and them having to pretend to be dead to not be a target for the Pathfinder Society, there had been quite some discussion about how to achieve that. 

In some ways, destiny had helped them a lot already. When Brenn had reverted from the fetchling form, he had not done so completely. According to Kronk, this was common when not prepared well or, at times, it was the goal of the whole transformation. The way the sorcerer looked now, he was taller, with a greyer skin and haunting eyes, and all his features were more prominent. He had kept some of the strange abilities of his ancestry as well. And quite a few memories. No one would consider him the same Brenn who had left with them for the island. Consequently, he was now calling himself Krell, as that was part if what he was. It was the perfect change for the purpose of disappearing. 

Then there was Mook. The changes here were more subtle. Whatever had happened when she had called upon divine power to help the undead dragon had definitely changed her though. For one, she looked lighter in skin tones and hair.. Her stutter was less prominent, and she had started to rhyme as the bard Pathfinder had shown her. But she was also more fragile, suffered from strange back pains and had a pronounced left limp, which made the journey all that slower. The group was already planning to take her to a healer as soon as possible. 

Most remarkably were the changes in her abilities though. It was as if some gate had been opened. At times, she talked to herself, and she did things she didn't notice she was doing, or causing other things without knowing she even did. As an example, she now often answered questions or replied to statements before they were said. 

Mook was unwilling to pick another name. Mook was, after all, one of the more common gnomish names. She was agreeable to add her clan's name as a second name, something the gnomes of her ancestry didn't like doing. So, she was now Mook Halakar. She had also gone to call her wolf Dooda, which was close enough to the original name so he would learn to listen. 

Samin had undone the dye of his hair and was now a natural light blond. They had decided to pass him as a full elf, which would be easy enough. After some thought, he had decided to go with the name Zayel now. It was a childhood hero of his, from one of the few fiction books his former master's library had held. It was very common a name among elves, too, so nothing people would remember as being strange. 

He had started to call his hawk Will, but the real problem was his allergy to feathers. How many bonds like that were out in the world? He was probably the only magic user allergic to a hawk familiar. He had refused to think about it further, cited that he could just keep Wilbur away from settlements for a while so no one would suspect he even had a familiar.

Edawon's name had not been mentioned to anyone prior to their island adventure, so he decided to stick with the name. Zaza and Mook cut his wiry red hair short and made a pattern in it looking somewhat like a chess board. Everyone was satisfied that the ranger's appearance had been sufficiently altered.

Zaza being a common halfling name, too, if not as overly common as Mook or Zayel was for gnomes and elves, had been given a similar haircut, just with swirls as pattern, and would be passed off as Edawon's younger sister. They looked alíke enough, especially now that Zaza's skin had become her usal pale hue for winter. 

Cajun was not too happy about that, but as they had decided, much against his own ideas, to pass him off as a short version of the more common half human half orc ancestry, he could hardly go as her brother much longer. There was still discussion if it would be possible to poass him as some sort of tiefling, given his reddihs eyes and not very orc like features, but Kronk said he had met a tiefling once and the difference would be easy to see. 

Something else that tirked him was that he had to hide his skills as an alchemist for a while. He would still go smithing – good way to make money, after all – and he would pose as the son of a human barbarian. As to that, Kronk and Edawon both suggested he was spposed to play a bit dumb and try to hide that he could read and write so well. 

While his fighting skills were fine, he was no near as savy as a raging barbarian, but Edawon insisted that he should do fine as a son of one, who would otherwise just be a simple smith. Alchemists were, after all, not that common, especially not half-orcs. Kassen had been the only town in the whole area to have had an alchemist who aloso took on apprentices, and even some bigger towns had only one or two of those usually, so Edawon, who knew quite some of the world, has assured them. He was undecided as for a new name, not liking that idea much, either. 

Kronk himself was the main problem. A kobold was a kobold was a kobold, even if, as he claimed, a kobold of his color would be more likely accepted the more south they came. For now, he was wearing his wide cloak again. But they would have to come up with a solution. 

"I n-need a rest," Mook repeated again. It seemed every half hour, at least, she could not go on, and at one point Cajun had had to carry her up a hill or two. Dooda was limping from a fight with a pack of dire rats earlier that day and the gnome had not had enough healing magic to cure him completely so she could not ride him.

With a heavy sigh, Zaza sat down on a piece of rock on the side of the road. "We need mounts," she decided. "All of us. I'm almost happy Dooda is hurt and you can't walk much either so my own problems won't show as much." The young rogue grimaced and rubbed her burning legs. 

"I'm much more for finding a boat upriver in that village," Cajun pointed. 

"Huh?" Zaza turned and looked down the other side of the hill they had just climbed. Indeed, there was some sort of settlement there, but even for someone used to the very small towns and villages of wilderness areas, it was a stretch to call it a village. 10 or 12 huts and houses, maybe, and a few boats out in the river with nets to catch fish. A few gardens and small fields. There was only a muddy, dirt packed path leading to it from the not much better road they were on now. 

 "I somewhat doubt those boats would be able to travel far," Kronk tried to assess the worthiness of the vessels. "But I will settle for a rest out of this cold. If they don't outright hate kobolds that is."

Determined to get down there, Mook moved on. Her limp was very pronounced, and she clearly had pains walking. "T-tired of t-travel, for n-now," she grinned, trying not to complain. 



The people of the small village proved helpful enough. They only settled here recently, in an attempt to make profit from the rare salmon found in this area of the river. Mostly halfling and human, they were very proud to tell how they were once slaves and had come here to find their own little fortune. How they would be bale to build stone houses already come spring. And how they would welcome them if they wanted to stay. It was obvious that, especially traveling with a kobold who were favored slaves in some areas, they were all considered to be former slaves or people helping to free slaves. Edawon's tales played right into that. The ranger let the slave mark he had gotten from his former chelish owner show, and for the first time the rest of the group, trying to hide their surprise, saw a side of the ranger he had kept secret until now. 

Edawon explained they were expected in the capital by some human frioends who wanted to help them advance. This caused nods of understanding. Humans, they were told, considered themselves the only true heirs of wealth in their strange, wealth based religion. But as long as you nodded your head and told them you agreed with their supposed superiority, they would help you ut as long as it would not mean less profit for them. 

The local healer helped both Mook and the wolf, although he had no magic available. In return, Mook helped them with her new found power of divination to determine what crops to plant next spring, where to dig a new well and where to find most salmon. It was clear they would have liked the oracle to stay, but they accepted they would have to travel on. 

Against their first notion of traveling on quickly, they stayed almost a week. It was a restful time, even though they helped with day to day chores. If they had not been expected to join with the others sometime soon, and if the place would not have been too close to their origins, they might have stayed the whole winter. 

It was the 17th of Neth when they finally moved on. They took a ship from the city picking up salmon for the large markets. No one looked at the hooded kobold twice, or at anyone else for that matter. They arrived at Detmer late afternoon of the same day, the ship's wizard making sure there was plenty of wind in the sails. 
As they set foot on the docks, they were checked over by the guards, who seemed to make sure no penniless refugees from the war in the neighboring countries or from wherever else would bother the city. As they could show they had some coin and claimed to be from Salmon Reef, the village they had stayed in, they were not bothered. The guards gave them the usual advice to stay out of trouble and let them pass. By now Cajun had decided on a new name. He was now going by Majek, the name of a half-orc that had died in Salmon Reef earlier the year. He also decided to claim said Village as his port of origin if anyone asked. They would have to work on their backstories, for sure. Hest was already telling his new sister about the adventures he had had and places he had seen, so she could claim some knowledge of them. She would normally say she had been too young to remember much. 

Detmer was something else to them. The harbor was an almost obscene display of wealth, not only for the many ships finished or under construction, but also for the display of sapphires everywhere. Mook, Kronk and Majek decided immediately they didn't like the place, too much of this country's focus was on wealth above everything else. Zaza, on the other hand, had a good enough time looking around and liberating a few purses from people who didn't look too important. She had heard the stories about how the more powerful would track down any thief ant any cost, but they would need more coin, and coin was here in abundance. 

They had counted their resources in the village. As it turned out, only Mook had brought some coins to heed her mother's advice to never travel anywhere with an empty purse. The others had left most of their things in the inn at Tamran. After all, on the island they had had no need for money, and the plan had been to return after all. Other than that, they had what they pilfered from the cultists, including some extra weapons Majek was going to sell immediately, and some riches from the underground city. Anything that was not magic, Zaza and Edawon, who decided to take on the role of treasure hunters in the city to sell their loot, went to sell immediately as well. Krell and Zayel went to fill up their spell components with the money Zaza had liberated. There were more than enough relevant shops here, and Zayel, inexperienced in city life, let Krell do most of the bargaining and other talking. Luckily, while Krell's appearance fetched a few curious looks, people wanted to make business above all else and they got what they wanted. 

When they met again at the docks – they didn't have to go far to begin with – they decided they would leave with the first ship bound for Kerse. They found one easily enough, although they had to sneak Kronk on the ship under the pretense he was the disfigured child of Krell. A charm helped to stop anyone from asking questions. They traveled through the night and the next day and arrived at Kerse the evening of the 18th of Nethys. By now, there was a thin veil of snow on everything, and the river had started to freeze at the edge. Winter was a bad time to travel for all of them but Edawon, who was used to a lot worse. Mook's pains had become worse, and she was unable to heal herself. Taking herbs for her pains dulled her oracle abilities and she did not want to have to do that any longer. 

Not knowing where Teltz and Bjön were, they decided to press on to Macridi before winter would turn any worse. They found a dwarven vessel headed that way, and the crew was more than happy to take them along for some help on the boat, as they were short with hands. Kronk was greeted like a lost friend; it turned out their dwarven clan had had some help from "the good sort of kobolds" a while ago. 

While the journey was slow due to the ship stopping at many small locations to sell their dwarven crafts, they found themselves in good company, and the cleric on board was able to heal most of Mook's back problems. She was still limping, but now there was little to no pain. 

They had bought warm winter clothes in Kerse, and when they finally arrived at Macridi, they were in dire need of it. There was a  snow storm the morning they arrived, and it took a while to find lodgings affordable to them. Only when Majek, who had by now grown into his role somewhat, mentioned he was a smith by trade did they find some unsused rooms above a smithy in exchange for his help. The old smith had recently died, and his two sons were in dire need of additional workers, which they could not pay right now. A win win situation for all of them, especially as the rooms were very warm, getting their fire places heated by the smithy's forge. 

The half-orc noticed that playing dumber than he was had some advantages. Mainly, people talked more freely around him and didn't watch their written material much. It was assumed he didn't understand a lot, and he loved toi reinforce the notion with some dumb questions here and there. The two brothers running the smithy liked him well enough, so all there was to do now was to wait and watch out for the others. Especially Zayel was getting itchy to see his father again, and there was badly hidden worry in his voice whenever he mentioned Teltz.


----------



## Lwaxy (Feb 21, 2012)

*The Chasm of Screams - PF Scenario 2-14*

Bjön had found Teltz back at the inn, and relayed to him all that had happened. The bard had put up a good show of mourning about his lost son. The news about them not being able to travel through Molthune anytime soon was depressing to Teltz, as it meant they would have to travel half through the Inner Sea region to meet up with the others. Back with a boat the way the paladin had come would have probably drawn too much attention, so they settled on the long journey with a heavy heart. While the dwarf was about sending a message all the long way by river to Macridi to the temple of Desna there – something they had agreed on while on the island just in case – about not coming up to Druma but going to Falcon's Hollow directly, Teltz had more bad news in the matter of the folks pursuing him and Samin. Not only had they found their way here, they were, supposedly, already aware of where he was staying. News of the island adventure had traveled fast among the interested parties, and while the Pathfinders in the city were none too happy about the supposed failure of the mission, they were at least relieved to hear that the cult members, too, had vanished. 

Bjön came back all excited. It happened that one of the Pathfinder's high profile members was in a bit of a bind, needing some parts for a cure of an afflicted friend. Said cure had supposedly been crafted by a good friend and was now ready to be picked up. The group that was supposed to do the pick up had been in some magical battle and wouldn't be able to do it in time, so the job had been offered to Bjö and "any aid he could procure." Obviously, this was referring to Teltz. This in itself might have been an annoyance rather than helpful, as Bjön was not really in a position to refuse a high ranking member of his society. But the pickup location was right on their path around Molthune. Additionally, a teleport beacon and a wizard capable of using those would place them right there, and the beacon could also return the materials without their need to come all the way back. Teleports were expensive, and they had already tried to find someone able to get them at least to Kraggodan, with no success. 

Teltz, who had been packing their stuff including additional warm clothes, listened carefully. His spirits perked up when the dwarf mentioned their destination was "way into Nidal and halfway down Molthune," as the paladin jokingly put it. "But if the stuff can be sent by a teleport beacon, why send anyone at all?" he inquired. 

Bjön held up a small scroll,. More like a paper token. "Because this has to be put on it. The woman we are looking to pick up from was supposed to own one, but she was described as prone to losing such things, which is why they arranged for pickup to begin with."

"Alright, then," Teltz agreed. "Sounds pretty much routine to me. I don't suppose we get paid?"

"No, but we get a free teleport cutting weeks from the journey. We might arrive in Falcon's hollow same time as the others."

Teltz nodded. He had not been able to find out much about Falcon's Hollow yet, save that it was some sort of lumber town ruled by some evil sounding company, which was probably why the kobolds needed some help. He was eager to go there, fix whatever was amiss and probably settle there for a while if it proved safe enough. 

The same afternoon, they met with the mentioned Pathfinder, a druid, at an exclusive teleport point used by Pathfinders only. Even Bjön had not known about it until now. As advised, they were dressed in their warmest clothes, despite there being little snow in Nirmathas yet. But, so Teltz thought, there were certainly colder areas already, and maybe their destination was known for cold. 

He was definitely right. They emerged in a swirl of snowflakes driven by a piercing cold wind. As it looked like, they were standing on a mountain trail covered in medium high snow. Glints of sunlight darted through  the clutching, skeletal branches of towering yellow pines. The incline softened into a small dell, set against the backdrop of the gray, toothy peaks of immense mountains. Near the center of the clearing stood a small hovel of rough basalt stones, neatly covered with sod to protect it from the mountain’s wintery chill. 

The bard took in their surroundings in awe, then he turned to the dwarf. "Where, in Desna's name, are we?" He mentally kicked himself for not having asked about it earlier. 

"Ah... Mindspin Mountains," Bjön grinned. But no problem, see, there is the den of the beast... err the woman... already."

"Mindspin... hey, around this time of year this is not a place..." But the dwarf was already moving to the fenced in yard of the hovel. A minute or two later, they were standing in front of the door. No one answered their knocks. Not too surprising, as they had not been announced. A sickly  yellow glow emanated from the grease-smeared windows Teltz peeked in through, leaving the rooms dim and shadowy. The illumination highlighted a small table of rough-cut pine in the main room. A note rested atop the  table,  weighted in place by a small  soapstone figurine carved to resemble a seahawk.

"Looks like she left a note. Is the door open?"

The paladin tried and nodded. It opened smoothly without as much as a squeak, and they found themselves in a small room used for storage and work, as it looked like by the tablke and chairs filled with tools of skinning and hunting. The next room was barely separated from this one, but as they moved in, Teltz' sense of danger went up. "Something is wrong," he announced. 

Bjön nodded and moved over to the note under the figurine. "Just gibberish it looks like. And there is a string set, looks like some sort of trap." 

Teltz followed the string and found a simple, but effective, explosive trap set to destroy the main beam of the room so it would collapse. "Who is this woman trying to trap? Surely not us." 

"Don't think it was her," Bjön mused and pointed to the ground. Some barely discernable boot prints, much larger than that of a normal woman, could be made out. 

"So, someone else tries to trap her in her own home?" Teltz went to disarm the trap carefully. 

"For some reason I do not think she would fall for that," the paladin mused. 

"Well, what now? Think something happened to her? If so, we are not likely to find out what, in this weather. We should probably just stay here, there is food and wood and a bed wide enough for both of us," Teltz said, pointing into the bedroom. "And magic light to boot to save us from the constant smell of candles."

The paladin looked at a loss. "Yeah, well, it seems a good option, better than trying to camp out there anyway. We just need to be careful. I'll check the area for evil, anyway." Bjön nodded at Teltz and went outside for a moment, to see if there was any evil to detect close by. 

Teltz had a good look around and then started to get the ingredients for a strong herbal tea together. Just when he was about to heat the water he heard shouts and the sound of steel on steel outside. Drawing his short sword, he went for the door just when Bjön came back in, pushing an unkempt,  bearded short human clad in warm furs into the work room. Then he threw the bundle of his captive, including a longsword and a bow, into a corner. 

"Look what the dwarf dragged in," the human said and put his sword away. "And who do we have here?"

"No idea yet, found him sneaking up to the windows. By my guess, to find out why the trap was not sprung." The paladin looked sternly down onto the man. "You better tell us everything you know, or, I swear by Desna, you will regret it."

The stranger seemed to recognize him as a paladin or, at least, someone in the graces of a divine power. Slowly, he moved back towards the wall, looking from his captor to the bard and back. "I just watch," he tried to talk himself out of the situation. 

"Yeah, because we believe that," Teltz snorted, going over the possessions of the man. Some magic oils, he noted, so the guy could hardly be the barbarian out of the woods he seemed to be. Maybe he had been hired. Other than that, it looked like he hadn't traveled far to get here. "You have a camp nearby, don't you? How many of you, and what do you want?"

"There is just me!" The captive grew nervous by the moment. "I just watch."

"So, you were left to watch this place. For who? Where is the owner of the house?" Teltz looked to the dwarf, not even knowing the name. 

"Eya," Bjön helped out. "Where is the human woman who lived here?"

"I just watch.." the man tried again, but the paladin took a step closer and suddenly seemed to glow in a divine light. Teltz, who could see from his point of view that the paladin was just using the magical light in the room to his advantage, could barely hide a grin. "In the chasm," the barbarian rushed out. "They kill me if I tell you. In the chasm..."

Teltz shook his head. "We know little of this place, so why don't you just show us where your camp is and tell us from the beginning?"

Staring at the paladin, the fur clad guy nodded quickly. "They kill me," he weakly replied, obviously believing the paladin would do the same if he didn't answer their questions. Teltz opened the door, grabbing his stuff to set out for yet another unplanned trek, this time in snow and wind in mountains he did not know. "Yeah," he mumbled. "Just a quick pick up, for sure." He locked the door magically and followed. 



The camp was a short way up the slope among pine trees and bare branched birches. Within this section of the wood were the ruins of a small settlement.  Heavily  overgrown,  only  the  crumbling 
foundations of several small huts provided evidence of its existence. Within one of the foundations, a small, man-made clearing concealed  the  scattered  remnants  of  a  hastily  fled  campsite. Snow had been thrown upon the coals, though they were still warm, and indents in the ground marked the sleeping locations of at least four individuals. Near the fire rested a small woodpile and a sack with some candles, a half-day’s rations, and a few other  mundane  possessions.  From  a  nearby  tree  dangled a makeshift birdcage, crudely woven from saplings, in the blowing wind. A raven with a broken wing was in it. 

"What's this?" Teltz exclaimed, disgusted. "You either kill and eat an animal or you leave it alone." As he went over to take the unconscious, but still living, bird out of the cage, the barbarian mumbled something about talking witch birds. A familiar, maybe, the bard wondered. 

On the way here, the captive had made little sense, just going on about taking the witch woman on the orders of their mistress. He was obviously very afraid about revenge of that woman if he talked, and implied everyone else in his tribe would feel the same. To Bjön, it did sound a lot like an evil entity taking advantage of the less civilized and less capable inhabitants of this region.  

Pushing the captive, who had his hands bound tightly, to the ground, Bjön went to check the campsite. He found a small sack of the sort they had seen in the hut, but before he could search further, Teltz came over with the bird. "I was thinking of putting it out of its misery, but it may be a familiar. Maybe you can heal it?" 

Slightly at a loss, having never healed anything that small, Bjön carefully took the raven in his hands. Before he could think about if this would work at all, the divine magic granted to him by Desna already went to work. A golden glow surrounded the bird, and the wing mended. It woke up, too, looking distinctly disoriented, but it was obviously tame. 

Bjön wanted to give the bird back to Teltz. When he turned, he heard a muffled curse and saw the bard sprawled out on the ground. He rolled over, rubbing his leg. "Darn snow was covering up a box."

Indeed, an old, rusted box peeked out of the snow. It was too old to have anything to do with their matter at hand, but the dwarf's Pathfinder senses awoke. "We take that along, too. He can carry it. It is getting dark and colder, and the bird and us, too, need some warmth."

"What about him?" Teltz pointed. The captive was shaking slightly. 

"We can tie him up outside, maybe Desna will let him live through the night," Bjön growled. He didn't mean it of course, it was just to show Teltz that they had no choice but to keep him inside, too. But the man, who had given his name as Aran Thokskaw, hunter of the mountains, did not know that. He only knew there were two people able to wield magic, a power hardly anyone in his tribe had. And one of them had a direct line to one of the many gods. "I was just watching," he mumbled again as Teltz dragged hip upright, putting the rusted box in his outstretched arms. The barbarian had trouble not to let it drop but he somehow managed to keep the balance despite having his hands bound. 

Teltz had little sympathy for the guy. Forced or not, they had abducted the woman they had come for and thus possibly made their mission unaccomplishable. Worse, it delayed everything, including their leave from here to wherever Eya would have been capable of sending them to. 

The hovel was as they had left it, with the fire the bard had started before they had left still burning. Teltz put on another log and went to make that tea – only for the two of them of course – while an impatient Bjön secured the prisoner, tying him between two heavy crates. The box he had carried was on the working table now. Then he pried the rusty lock of the box open with his dagger. Inside, he found a  crumbling leather-bound journal.

Before he could open it, the bard set the tea and some bread and cheese he had found on the table in the main room. "Hey, the raven is awake," he said. 

"Vetta," the bird cried out. "I Vetta."

"So it is a familiar, then." The dwarf sat and started on the food while they listened to the weird speech pattern of the raven, 

Vetta had been out of the hovel, flying about the forest when several men came and attacked her mistress. As she raced back to the hovel, the agents knocked Eya unconscious and Vaetta lost contact with her. She arrived just in time to witness the barbarians dragging her mistress off. The raven did her best to tail the agents and was able to safely follow them back to their campsite where she flew in close enough to observe them, and  once  in  range,  she  again  began  to  sense  Eya.  Soon after, the agents began talking about taking her to a place called the Chasm of Screams. Upon mention of the Chasm, Vaetta felt Eya flood with fear. Without warning, one of the agents  knocked  Eya  unconscious  again,  and  they  broke camp and dragged her off with them. At that point, one of 
the men spotted the raven and shot her. That’s all Vaetta remembered. Her panic was evident, her confusion as well. The insistence that the two of them help her mistress was touching, but there was nothing to be done this night. Snow was falling heavily now, and it was getting dark quickly. 

Bjön instead perused the book, ignoring all questions and pleas from their captive. The journal  recounted harrowing tales of icy winters, disease, and starving Eagle Knight  operatives.  In  later  entries,  the  soldiers  became haunted  by  frightful  dreams  that  led  them  to  a  strange location they called the Chasm of Screams. Over the next few months, those drawn to the cave went mad, broke from the  settlement,  and  began  systematically  hunting  and eating their kin.

Bjön read the most relevant parts out loud. "Must be the same chasm. Now we know what happened to the settlement, and why Eya was so afraid, according to Vetta."

"You don't really think it is a good idea for us to go there, do you?" Teltz inquired. He was all for aiding those in need, but by no means self destructive.

"A good idea? No, but it is what my path dictates me to do." The paladin turned to the prisoner. "Tell us all you know about this chasm. And hurry up, we need to catch some sleep." Teltz unpacked a small flute from his pack and started playing a certain melody he used to assure he would know truth from lie. For the captive, it was just a nice tune and it calmed his panic to boot. 

About an hour or two later, the two of them were not much the wiser. Supposedly a wonder of nature, the  chasm  attracted  the  curiosities  of local tribes who braved its wind-haunted labyrinths to test 
the fortitude of their best warriors. Few returned from the brutal and grueling trial, while those who did return were driven mad. These individuals soon broke from the sunlit lands of their birth and descended deep into the gloomy caves. Collectively, their existence formed the basis for later rumors 
that cannibalistic tribes dwelt within, and that the chasm’s horrific screams came from the spirits of their victims. Aran didn't understand when both the paladin and the bard scoffed at a tribe wasting their best warriors in tests of pointless courage. "It always was like that," he simply stated.

A while ago, however, the situation had changed and something had moved into the chasm. From the barbarian's description of an ice-woman, they could not quite get what this woman probably was. Several things came to mind, but Aran was unable to describe her in a useful way. She made the tribes worship her ad bring her sacrifices. Anyone not complying would just end up as a sacrifice, too. 

When they finally went to bed, Teltz could sense Bjön's just anger at the evil lurking... well, wherever the chasm was. A typical paladin, the bard mused silently. Well, typical at least in such matters. There was, however a very good possibility that they would be unable to do anything about the monster, and he said so. 

Bjön looked at the older man with resignation. He would have liked to tell him that Desna would prevent him from failing, but he had seen with other paladins that this was not always the case. He would have liked to inspire the bard – as weird as that felt – to go into this with all they had, but he had to admit they did not have much. So he just nodded and went to bed without more words. Teltz had seen more from the world, and it would be unwise and also impolite to rebuff him just now. 

Somehow, they both managed to catch some sleep. The next morning dawned bright and calm, and they went through their supplies, seeing what they might be able to use. Luckily, they had the most of the magical and protective stuff of their group. This made Teltz worry about Samin, though, and he had to force himself to focus on the matter at hand. 

Aran led them on, always looking about nervously as if some member of his tribe or the other would jump out from the forest and kill him. From what they had learned, before any such thing would happen, he was more likely to go down with an arrow in his throat. 

Walking in deep snow was not a fun thing to do for either of them, not even talking of the trail they left. There had been no snow shoes, and Teltz wouldn't have known how to use them anyway. Both of them were tired already and slightly sweaty under their clothes when they first heard the noise. The wind picked up again, too, as they drew nearer. The familiar, Vaetta, was all upset now, and claimed she was able to sense her badly injured mistress. 

Even from a distance, the strange and horrid screaming echoed unnervingly through the mountains, drowning the silence and driving away living creatures, leaving the snowy hillside lifeless. Along the baseline of the mountain’s face where its roots wedged into its neighboring peak, a gaping chasm opened from which the howling emanated. Here, its wretched wail belched forth in frigid, almost gale-force blasts. It was about impossible to hear anything else. 

"What a weird entrance," Teltz shouted. Before he could ask what to do about Aran now, he noticed 3 more humans huddled in furs close to the maw around a fire. They looked to be guards. Bjön waved his hands around; it took the bard a moment to understand that, since they had not been noticed yet coming just out of the forest and the noise covering their approach, they should surprise them. The paladin readied his weapons, but Teltz grabbed his arm and shook his head. "Do you really want to fight in this snow and wind?" he mouthed. Bjön blinked, then understood and nodded, watching the bard getting into his spell component pouch. A few seconds later, the figures slumped over, barely avoiding rolling into the fire. A snore loud enough to be heard over the wind once they were closer showed that they were all deeply asleep. 

"What to do with them now?" Teltz shouted, ignoring the amazed stares of their first captive. He quickly searched their pockets and found a few potions and oils, just like they had with Aran. 

"Help me," the paladin shouted back. With amazing skill, as if he had done this a lot of times before, the dwarf build a makeshift cold shelter from snow and a ´few rocks. Then he motioned for the now bound with their own ropes sleepers to be brought inside. "No one can see them easily, and they are safe from the cold winds," he shouted. "Now for Aran..." 

Before Teltz could ask if he should use a sleep spell again – not his favorite choice as it meant losing a spell that might come in handy again – Bjön drove his first into the base of the once more kneeling barbarian's neck. The man dropped like a fly. Teltz was about to ask how to do that and where to learn it, but then shrugged and helped deposit him with the others. Certainly, Bjön was not your usual paladin, and the bard had seen quite a few of them. 

Moving into the maw proved difficult; the winds knocked them both over once or twice before they made it into the tunnel. Once inside, the force of the "air gone wild" as the dwarf cursed, lessened significantly. The howling decreased as well. The tunnel leading from the chasm maw ended at a shallow pit before making a sharp bend upward. Hundreds of bones lined the bottom of the pit. Every now and then, a cyclone-like swirl of wind mixed with icy shards and snow formed in different places. 

"I don't quite like the sight of this," Teltz shivered, despite the warm clothes.


----------



## Lwaxy (Feb 22, 2012)

The passage sloped up radically, exposing a wide fault in the rock that created a natural overhang that blocked some of  the passageway. The tunnel appeared to continue up, around, and over the crag. "Oh, yay," Teltz muttered. "I have a feeling it will get worse the farther we get in."

A bit of snow dropped right on the bard's face as he said that. "Did I mention I prefer warm weather? Sunny beaches, lush forests and gardens with all kinds of fruits in it..."

He dwarf snorted as he made his way around the obstacle. "But think of the song you can write about this! Just the right story for cold winter nights by the fi..."

He was rudely interrupted as two humanoid shapes dropped down from above, crouching on the ground right before them. Somehow, Teltz and Bjön got the impression of spiders pressed into a humanoid form – or maybe the other way around. They opened their large mouths and hissed in what could only be described as an appreciative manner. It looked like they wanted to make lunch out of the friends. 

The paladin's new adamantine axe, suddenly shining with a golden glow, cut right through one of the ugly creatures, causing gore to spray and freeze around them. Teltz, not able to move much in this passage, grabbed his sword but hesitated. He would only hit the dwarf, considering his sword skill was mediocre at best. 

Luckily, the dwarf didn't need him. While the weird creature remaining rushed up the wall, finding a grip as if it were a beetle, obviously trying to make their prey following them, Bjön took a step back, pushing the bard further out of the way of the beast. Teltz almost lost his footing on the icy ground. A second later, he was grateful for the push though, as something smashed on the floor and a greenish vapor spread. Like the dwarf, he instinctively held his breath. 

Under other circumstances, the presence of the cloud might have been a real problem, but a gust of wind hissing through the tunnel dissipated it quickly. Out of the remains, the weird creature jumped at the dwarf, trying to claw his face off. To Teltz, it seemed the thing was completely mad.

The paladin had turned his axe to the edge was to the attacker. Obviously relying on its natural armor that was no match to the holy glow of the axe the paladin wielded, their foe split itself almost in two, looking confused at his body as his life bled out. 

As the thing dropped, Teltz squinted at the remains. "Whatever it was, it didn't like the light from the axe. And not only because it was magic."

"Creatures of darkness, is what they were." The paladin sighed. "I've seen them once before, they are called morlocks. We might want to have light at the ready at all times, there will likely be more down here as they come in groups so I have been told."

"I can do a few light spells," the bard nodded. "Don't want to draw attention, though." There were enough things drawn to light in the dark, and no need to exchange the frying pan for the fire. "We might wanna watch the ceiling." They should have done that before, of course, but neither of them wanted to admit that.

The familiar screeched and dug its claws into Teltz' shoulder. "Yeah, we will be moving," he calmed her down. Pressing on, the passage widened into a large frozen pool. The roof climbed upward, forming a natural chimney extending about 150 feet above the pool. A stream of cold air spilled in through the hole in the ceiling, filling the chamber with a low, doleful moan.

The paladin took the lead and stepped carefully onto what looked like a slippery surface. Just as he was sure he had a sure grip, the whole floor started to move, reaching out to engulf the dwarf. Vaetta chittered a warning. "Frost ooze!" shouted Teltz and pulled the dwarf, who was struggling for balance, back into the tunnel. Teltz bumped his head at the tunnel wall as he lost his balance as well. Bjön uprighted himself and shouted out a battlecry. This of course did not intimidate the ooze, but it made him feel better. Again, the magical axe glowed in a strange, golden light. As the weird life form moved forward, the axe went through it as if it was butter. A small piece dropped onto the tunnel grounds. A moment later, it attacked them on its own.

"Uh, yeah," Teltz said. "That's how they multiply, I heard. Doesn't kill them to hack them apart." Despite this, he hacked the little ooze in half again, creating two new ones. "Unless you hack them to very very small pieces, that is." 

The large ooze was unable to get into the tunnel as the dwarf, not having grasped the problem, hacked another part of it off. "Wait, you mean if I reduce this thing in size often enough, it can come after us?"

"Quintessentially, yes." Teltz kept hacking, the small ones really were of little concern and were soon small enough to be dead. He noticed, though, that his sword, unlike the dwarf's axe, started to dissolve. The digestive fluids of an ooze, he recalled now, were detrimental to unprotected metal. 

"How annoying. What do you propose?" At a loss what to do next, the dwarf just stepped out of reach of the thing. 

"Ah... fire," Teltz offered. "As most cold creatures, it should be very vulnerable to it."

"That would likely take a lot of fire." The paladin scratches his meager beard. "Maybe I should just hack it smaller just until it would almost fit in here and then we burn it?"

"We'll be here a while," Teltz sighed. "But it sounds like a plan."



Sometime later, through biting smoke taking its time being blown away by the gusts of wind in the tunnels, the 3 of them – counting the raven – hurried on. They felt they had already lost a lot of time dealing with the annoying ooze. The last thing they needed was to fail saving a woman who might be able to get them out of the mountains and closer to their destination. 

Getting up the shaft was easy enough with the dwarf's climbing gear. Teltz was a nimble climber, and was insisting he go first. The shaft bisected a horizontal cavern and continued upward. Jagged, human-sized, ice-covered stalagmites filled the cavern floor here. A rough and frigid cross-breeze 
whipped through this passage from west to east every few minutes. The two of them hesitated to brave the natural force, but at least the smoke would be gone. Teltz hid the raven under his fur cloak to avoid her freezing to death. 

As they climbed out and gathered their gear to go on upward, where the bird knew her mistress to be, a bloody head came rolling out of the shadows of one of the stalagmites, in a whirl of bone fragments and more blood. It looked like the head of a woman. Teltz jumped aside so it would not hit him as it rolled right towards the shaft and fell down. 

"That's a sculpture," the bard recognized, at the same time the bird was calling "fake fake fake" out from under the cloak. 

"Nice try," Bjön grunted. His glowing axe was once more in his hands. As he had suspected, more morlocks were hiding in the chasm. These, though, looked less like dumb beasts and more like a primitive group with some sort of culture. At least, they had spellcasters. The first hint to that was that Bjön's axe bounced off of a magical protection one of them had. From the effect, Teltz assumed it to be some form of protection from good. 

The wind chilled Teltz to the bone despite his clothes, and he wondered how those monsters could exist here. His damaged sword barely blocked the attack of one of them, not leaving the slightest dent in its natural armor. 

Before the bard could think of any spell or song to boost their abilities, the area around them went all dark, save for the divine glow of the adamantine axe. That was the confirmation of spellcasters, probably divine, on the enemy's side. The shivering bird squeaked a single syllable, fully of magic, and one of the morlocks started to cry out in panic. A fear spell, Teltz thought. Clever bird, he had not considered the obvious possibility that Vaetta would know any spells. His sword hit something in the darkness, but again it seemed to bounce off, and a forceful blow of an unarmed strike threw Teltz back a few meters. He landed right outside the dark zone. 

With a howl that had nothing human, one of the morlocks came at him with a huge club. The monster was above him before he could get up on the icy ground and with the wind. Once more he barely blocked the club with his sword. The blade fell apart, the damage from the ooze acid had been worse than he had assumed. The bard rolled sideways to avoid the next blast, making sure he didn't accidentally hurt Vaetta in the process. As the club hit the ground next to him, Teltz whispered the words for a light spell, targeting the club of the enemy. As he touched the enemy's weapon briefly, it light up like a torch. With a cry of surprise and pain, the monster dropped the weapon and stepped backwards. 

"Mine, now,." Teltz growled and took the club as he got up. Advancing on the morlock, he waved the club in front of him, directing the thing backwards to where the shaft went down. A moment later, the morlock's feet stepped into air and it fell all the way down. 

Bjön had issues of a different kind. Two of their foes came at him, and in the darkness he could only make them out whenever his axe hit the shields around them. He hoped their protection spells would wear off soon, but he had no such luck. Instead, something hit him with the force of a hammer and caused him to almost lose his weapon. Trying to find the end of the spell's reach seemed to be useless as well, all he would risk was falling into the shaft. 

The dwarf put the axe away, aware that its light had possibly stopped them from going at him full force, but he needed a different strategy. Dropping to the ground, he made himself as flat as possible. He knew enough about magic to be aware that, with this spell, even his enemies were unable to see in the dark. And while they sure knew the area and would hardly bump into the stalagmites, they wouldn't assume him to be on the ground. At least he hoped so. 

Steps and shuffling and some sniffing to his right told him he had guessed correctly. His hands went into his pouch, searching for the small bag of puffing balls Cajun had given him a while ago to entertain the children of the inn they had been at. He had not used them all up, and he figured they would make a good distraction. He found 5 or 6 of them still there and threw them into the direction of the shuffling. 

A few hissing puffs and cracks could be heard, and while the light effects this toy usually produced was swallowed by the spell, the acid smoke was not. Coughing and retching was heard, and the monster backed up. It would be a short lived distraction, but it was all he really needed. As quickly as  possible, he rolled in the opposite direction of where he knew the shaft to be and finally emerged out of the dark zone. He found himself at the bottom of some steps made out of snow and ice, leading up to where they would probably find the bird's mistress. 

Teltz, in the mean time, found he could not get around the dark area to the other side of the spell's effect, as it touched the walls. He concentrated and mumbled another spell, and a moment later, his voice seemed to come from somewhere inside the dark area. "Bjön, are you out of the spell?" He sure hoped the paladin was.

Inside the dark, the noise suggested the two spellcasters were looking for him. From somewhere, Bjön called out he was, in fact, out of the spell effect. Once more, Teltz cast a spell, this time crumpling a sheet of written music, a copy of one of his favorite songs in fact, in his hands. A screeching, thundering and at the same time laughing sound emerged in the middle of the dark. Other than being unpleasant, it had no effect on him or Bjön, but the monsters started retching and gagging, feeling nauseated. A moment later, the dark spell ended. Bjön, already waiting once again with his axe, attacked the two retching creatures right away. "Desna!" he called. "Help me eliminate the evil dwelling in this chasm!" 
A moment later, the remaining monsters, spellcasters or not, sprawled dead at the paladin's feet. "I've had it with this frigid place," the young dwarf growled. "There are some stairs over there, let's get this thing done."

Getting up there proved somewhat of a chore, with the winds still blowing and the ground slippery. Teltz especially was exhausted as they reached the top. His unusual ability to cast a lot of spells often came with physical exhaustion, although he had not explained that to the dwarf yet. He felt like he was out of shape, what was definitely not the case. He used the club he still had for balance and support but it was not really helping.

The passage opened into a series of natural labyrinthine catacombs. Their tangled walls were slicked with layers of ice that hideously entombed dozens of humanoid corpses, mostly tribal folk or villagers, in various states of decay. Some looked hundreds of years old, others more recent.

The bird became very agitated now, and they could see why. Half naked and almost frozen, the form of a woman was positioned to the left wall of the cave. The two looked at each other and nodded. It looked like a bait, so it most likely was one. That other woman, the evil around here, would be lurking close by. And they still did not know what it was. 

Teltz frowned and then motioned to the dagger the dwarf had at his side. "Bless it," he whispered. "I have an idea." He didn't mention it was a daring idea, probably born from exhaustion and lack of food – his stomach was beginning to rumble. While Bjön was looking at him questioningly, the bard once more whispered a spell while taking the raven out of his cloak, and this time, a transformation took place. His body twisted and turned and shaped itself into that of a morlock. As Bjön caught himself staring, he shook the surprise off and did his own spell to bless the dagger which the bard took. Then the human made a snapping motion with his left hand and the light on the club went out. The next moment, the bard-turned-morlock hurried over to where the bound woman was. Once there, he cut the ropes apart, which was a bit difficult as this form of a body was harder to move for him. 

"What are you doing? Get back down there! Have you lost your weak mind? How dare you defy me!" A hissing voice, speaking common with some infernal words mixed into it, came from the back of the room, and sliding steps could be heard. A moment later, an ugly ice hag appeared in view. Her red glowing ice and the horns on her head made Teltz think of a devil for a moment, before he recognized the creature. He didn't respond, but finished cutting the ropes, hoping for her to come closer. 

She did just that, cursing while coming into striking distance. As she reached out with one of her clawed hands. Teltz suddenly swung his club, making her stumble over it. As she caught her balance with a sound of angry surprise, he jumped over to here and attacked with the blessed dagger. 

The gods must have been with them, because the weapon slid right into the evil monster's belly, right up to her ugly hanging breasts. Her hiss turned into a screech. Dragging herself backwards, she dislodged the weapon. Blackish blood seeped from the wound. Her left arm reached for the transformed bard and she started on a spell. 

That was when a glowing adamatine battle axe hit her square on the head. It seemed to bounce off the horns somewhat, but the hag was dropping to her knees now. Blood was gushing over her face. Before the paladin could adjust his aim to hit where there were no horns, the hag turned incorporal and invisible before their eyes. 

"Won't help you," Teltz growled and stabbed the dagger at her again. He knew that a blessed weapon could well hit incorporal creatures. He could not tell if he had hit something or not though. The bless of the weapon winked out, and Teltz hurried back to the unconscious woman. Bjön watched the area carefully, to see if the hag would show up again, but nothing of the sort happened. Teltz grabbed the woman and, while still in his transmuted form, rushed the stairs back down as if half of the abyss would be after them. After a short hesitation, the dwarf searched the cave for anything that might have been Eya's – they needed the component for the afflicted Pathfinder woman after all – and then followed, accompanied by the bird who had to grab his hair to not been blown away by the winds. 

Past the dead bodies at the end of the stairs, the bard rushed down the shaft, not needing any climbing gear in this form and not having much difficulty with the woman either. It was only when Bjön carefully climbed after him that he understood. The spell would end any minute, and carrying an unconscious, half dead body all the way would have taken a lot longer. And their rescue had little time left. 

Teltz made it down to the pit with the bones before the spell ended. When Bjön arrived, he had wrapped the woman in spare furs and cloaks, though he didn't have many. Her bare feet looked frozen, and Bjön went to heal as much damage as he could once they had carried her out. As she came to, a healing potion helped with the recovery, and the still burning fire of the sentries they had captured outside helped, too. But still they had to take her back to the hovel quick. "Wait here," Bjön said. "I'll make something to drag her back."

"You've got it," the woman suddenly whispered. "Good."

Teltz looked at the small box and a bag the Dwarf had taken from the cave. He nodded. Maybe they would get out of here fast enough, after all. 



That evening, with Elya recovered a little, they got her side of the story. How the hag had caused her hellish nightmares. The hag, she said, was stealing souls to sell to devils. But more important that explaini8ng that was her needing to get back to Osprey to help him with his Pathfinder friend. 

"We had hoped you could bring us closer to Falcon's hollow," Teltz expressed. "Osprey said we could send what he needs back with the teleport label thingy."

Eya blinked. "Yes, that much is true. After all of this, I am not staying up here, however. I will leave, and someone else will have to make sure later that the hag is really gone. The teleport point, however, can be set to bring you to a number of places. None of which is a place named Falcon's hollow, though, I'm afraid."

It turned out that the closest thing to get to was a place in the west of Andoran, in the Aspodell Mountains. A dwelling of another Pathfinder, as it seemed, who would be able to help them along to Piren's Bluff, the only pass crossing the mountains. That was good news because it meant they might be in Falcon's Hollow before the others. Their journey could faster than going through Molthune. 

That night, Teltz and Bjön slept well, if exhausted, and the mid morning of their next day saw them packed and ready to be sent on, not without wishing Eya and her clever familiar all the best.


----------



## Lwaxy (Feb 25, 2012)

*Blood at Dralkad Manor*

Another session I wasn't present for, but one of the players helped write a journal for it. 

This actually happened before the last session IRL, but after the last session in the story timeline. 

I need to find a way to synchronize the timelines again. 

The players loved both the last scenarios. There were little to none logical problems or motivation issues. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------

A few days after they had settled in, Mook started to make use of her oracle abilities, which seemed to get stronger by the day. Being especially good with predicting the near future, she set up small shop – really just a tiny room next to the smithy – to offer her insights for a small, sometimes larger, fee. Edawon and Zaza spent their days helping out delivering messages for the companies here and generally keeping their eyes and ears open for anything interesting. 

Kronk stayed hidden in their rooms, save at night sometimes. He practiced his fighting skill and wasn't averse to teach the others some of the basics, like how to keep a better balance or block an attack while unarmed. Krell, however, was getting restless, not having found anything to do as the need for the (suddenly very expanded) selection of spells he could provide was not really there. He had started talking to himself, and not quietly at that, which was highly annoying to everyone else. Zayel had no problems of that kind, he was happy to sit and read one of the many books he had borrowed at the local library. He had not had so much time to read in a long while, and when Edawon and Zaza joined him as they were not overly busy either, he was even happier. 

Edawon and Zaza had started writing journals, dating back a few years to make it appear as if they had done so all along and been together all the time. They both had quite some fun with it, and while none would admit it, they were getting attracted to each other on a level not quite bother-sisterly.

One evening Mook came to their quarters with the news that one of the richer people of the city had asked her about an old partly burned down manor in a vineyard close by that was supposedly hunted. He had just wanted to know if that was true, considering he inherited the plot and needed to do something with it so he'd gain more riches – a true follower of his weird faith. Mook, however, had a flash of insight that she needed to check it out. 

"So you went out on a limb and said we'd take care of it?" Zayel gasped. "What about asking us first?"

"I rather went out on a limp," Mook joked, but then got quite serious. "And I have to check it out, it is just something I know. I would go alone with the wolf if I had to." 

Krell, of course, was all for doing it. They had been through a lot, how could checking out a haunted house be that big of a problem? Zaza, of course, agreed, and so Majek decided to ask the smith a day off and they would go tomorrow, as long as the weather was presenting such a bright, clear, cold sky. 





Zaza's diary, 24th of Neth


I will never again say that it is only a haunted house – with those we have had enough dealings in Varisia. No, haunted it was not, just occupied by something vile and something viler. Mainly the world has too many cultists and wannabe cultists and, as it seems, people who dabble with the dangerous things. Majek could not even go along as the smith had too much work for him that day. 

We arrived at a garden long not tended, there were overgrown evergreens and other, quite dead in winter, plants. Lots of trails, too, and not all of animals. Someone made screeching noises we supposed were to be meant as scary but we knew right away – mostly thanks to Mook – that this was a ruse. So we ignored the noise and went in through screeching double front doors. Someone had oiled them lately, though, or we would have had a much harder time opening them.  

Mook turned around and seemed to look through a statue in the garden, and before we could ask what was wrong, a tiny human woman not much bigger than Mook or me appeared from behind the statue in winter clothes almost covering her up completely. You could only see it was a female because she was rather well stacked, as Cajun would say. 

_(Note from my son, who GMed this encounter: At this description, one of the players held up his South Park themed character binder and pointed to Kenny "You mean she looks like this?" Upon which the others almost all shouted "Oh my god, they turned Kenny female!" It took a pizza delivery and some vodka mixes to bring back order.)_

To us it seemed like she would attack. She had a rapier and what looked like a mithril shirt for protection. I so wanted that shirt. My dear brother says I want too much, but a girl gotta take what I girl can grab. 

Anyway, Mook stared at her and made some waving motion with her hand. She didn't even speak, but there seemed to be some silver light around her. But it might have been just the snow and the blinding sun. The woman – or girl, she seemed kinda young, too – suddenly fell to her knees in all the snow and started weeping. Next we know, there is a bunch of illusions around us, none of which could fool a gnome as it seems although I was at first quite taken aback with all the mad laughs emitting around us and a bunch of snow flying right into Krell's face. 

Then there was the sound of light steps behind us, but that was no illusion. A moment later, Edawon acts all weird and smiles like a dumbass, and Zayel shouts about him being charmed before throwing some spell at whoever it was. I didn't see much because I had to duck into deep snow – got a lot of it down my coat, too, ewww – to avoid a flaming sphere. There was the woman crying and Krell shouting and someone angrily demanding to know what we had done with Belya. That's how we learned the name of the woman. 

Seriously? You are in love with someone you wanna help and them you come thundering down the stairs right into melee to try and save her instead of staying hidden and take out one after the other as long as your love interest is not in obvious danger? What a moron. So, this erratic behavior might have had something to do with Mook's weird, silvery light thing but I am not convinced. 

So I got back out of the snow and while I dusted myself of, I see Mook doing it again, silvery light and all, and that guy, too, starts crying. I am sometimes a bit weary of Mook nowadays, I wish I knew, I wish anyone knew what is going on with her. 

Mook started something like a sermon, about bad choices in bad life changing situations and all that. I have no idea what was going on with her and those two fur clad lovers, but Krell nodded his head to whatever Mook said. Edawon was still looking dumbfounded, so I rubbed his face with some snow and that snapped him out of it for the most part. 

When Mook was done with her preaching, the two birdies got somethings from the ruins and left in a hurry. Mook looked as if she was very happy, and claimed that the two of them was why she had to come here. I wasn't sure if that meant we could not go home, but Krell went through the door and said something about finishing a job we will at least get paid for. I think we all thought that two lovers having taken refuge in the ruins for the winter was all that was there to be, so we went in behind him rather unconcerned, even Mook who supposedly can see so much of the future now.

The house was all moldy and ruined, it was definitely for the better those two wannabe ghosts had left, or they might have gotten sick. We split up to check the place out. I found a chessboard which looks like marble and jade in the foyer and took it with me. Looks valuable enough, but it is also something I'd love to keep as brother dear has just taught me how to play. There were also some sort of half done wicker cages, but I paid them no mind. That was a mistake, but we had already made a mistake in not questioning the lovey-doveys. 

I was just done putting the board away when there were terrible shrieks coming from another room. I found out later it was the former study. Zayel had used a knock spell to open it and now there were those two ugly creatures. I don't even know how to describe them. They somewhat looked like disembodied heads, but not like any heads you normally see. They were bigger, blacker had eerie teeth and they had wings like bats spout from the sides. 

I later learned that those were some sort of vampires, I forgot the name of them. They are, in fact the heads of their victims, which explained the headless skeletons we later found in the room. They can firghten their intended victims with their cries, which is what they did to most of us. Zayel and Edawon were just staring at the things blankly, and while I could somewhat move, my mind went somewhat blank after I heard them screeching once more. Even Kronk stared as if he had been unprotected in the snow too long. Only Krell and Mook were not affected. 

Krell tried with his sword, but hitting flying things is obviusly not his forte. Mook seemed confused at first, but then that glow came over her again, and she seemed... not to be herself anymore. She actually addressed those vampire thingies as lord and lady of the house. As if there was anything remaining of the original people in those undead abominations. 

Well, maybe there was. That golden glow – yes, golden this time – coming from Mook surrounded them, and some sort of transformation took place. I couldn't move well enough to see it all, and Mook claimed to have little memory of it later. But they seemed to change back to something more humanoid. I am not sure what was more scary, the things themselves or what Mook, or something through Mook, did to them. Redemption, Kronk would later say. Maybe so. Kronk now calls Mook an oracle of mercy, as she seems to be driven to redeem the unredeemable, without much choice of her own. 

When the heads where those of more or less normal humans again, they seemed to stare and wonder for a moment, and then wither away in front of our eyes. I can't describe more because I fainted, at least that's what my brother claims. I only remember outside again, lying in the snow and hearing the noise of battle from somewhere behind me. 

As I was told, the leader of a wannabe cult had returned with more cult members and a captive sheriff of a nearby town they were driven out from before. Krell did a good job with his sword while Kronk attacked the followers with his strange, quick moves. I wish I could fight like he can, but I have barely learned yet how to keep my balance on one leg. 

When I got up, I saw the bound sheriff and cut him lose. He was in a bad shape, and also very very angry. He killed the cult leader with the rapier of one of the dropped cultists when no one was paying attention. Krell seemed a little annoyed that it was not him who got to kill the guy. Krell can be weird like that at times, I would always be happy not to be the one to have to kill. 

Now we are heroes in this town and surrounding area. We were well paid by the owner of the vineyard, but even better that we now get more people to come to Mook, and Edawon and me got some requests to accompany some lumbers into the forest, which we did without incident. 

Then today, Mook returned from the Desna temple, which has few followers here. She said a letter had arrived from Bjön, telling us to move on to Falcon's Hollow, as they had to take the long road. We will do so immediately, which is a bit sad as I actually like this place, money greedy humancentric society or not.


----------



## Lwaxy (Mar 2, 2012)

*The Beggar's (Thieves) Pearl/Tower of the Last Baron*

Bjön's Pathfinder Diary, 25th of Neth


It seems that nothing is ever going according to plan, but that is what my elders in the order had warned me about all the time. 

We stepped into a bright, cold day in front of a sturdy hut with smoke rising from the chimney. Some winter birds were singing, and it really looked all peaceful. We walked on, talking about our plans and thought it would work all out now. That was until the dwarf lady came running from the hut, eyes going wide when she saw us. It was clear that we were not what she had been expecting to see. 

The dwarf was the mother of Torvic, the Pathfinder we came to see. As it turned out, he had been missing for some time now, and she had caught a thieving gnome trying to break into the hut. The gnome had thought it empty, because he had seen Torvic at a camp and stole a heirloom from him. The dwarf lady still had the gnome locked up in the basement. Never fool with a dwarven sorcerer, especially if she is worried about her son. 

The stolen heirloom was a gleaming pearl which was in the family for a long time, a key of sorts she said. She had also recovered a few scrolls from the thief which detailed a so-called Gallery of Wonders, something her son had been looking for. Related to their family history, of course. A dwarf always wants to know more about the family! 

I agreed to investigate Torvic's whereabouts without consulting my companion. Teltz seemed a bit annoyed, but didn't say anything as we left immediately to follow the woman's directions to the camp. She wanted to come along, but someone needed to watch the thief, and she was nursing a nasty cold and would probably have trouble with her spells. She gave us a few scrolls though. 

We found the empty encampment easily enough. It must have been empty for a few days. I was about to ask Teltz for a divination, when we heard the sounds of a fight coming from a nearby cave. There was a plume of smoke over the cave, too. We rushed over, as much as rushing worked in the deep snow, and found a group of mites fighting what looked to be Torvic. Large boughs blocked the entrance to the cave, but Teltz did some sort of shattering song that blasted them all apart. 

Once we dealt with the mites, we woke the by now unconscious Torvic. We had arrived just in tie, it seemed, to rescue him. He was confused, disoriented, and didn't remember much about anything, he didn't even know who his mother was or if he knew us or not. He was grateful though. He had also lost track of time, believing it was about a month ago when he first left to find his ancestral secrets. 

We brought him back to his mother, and tried to figure out the whole story. He was going on about how he had been to this Gallery of Wonders, and implied he had met someone dangerous there. He told us to never sleep if we were to go there, although he could not tell us why. His mother managed to calm him down, but despiute suffering from sleep deprivation, he wouldn't sleep. 

This was most curious. I knew I had to find out what was going on, and not only for knowledge's sake. If there was some evil in these mountains, so close to the next town, it had to be eradicated. Teltz kept pointing out how we were ill equipped to deal with anything, especially as the dwarf lady had to stay with her son. But it had to be done if there was any salvation for this family. 

We left to find this gallery the next day. The descriptions of the addled dwarf proved good enough. After some hours in light snow and cold wind – and a constantly complaining dwarf who already had expended some of his magic on a song to warm us up – we reached the well hidden entrance at the end of a long ledge of worked stone at the bottom of a pass that was way too treacherous for my liking. The art of my people was still visible on the ledge. The outlined secret door was opened with an easily deducted phrase from the reliefs on the ledge and the scrolls from Torvic.

Someone had cultivated a strange sort of fungi in those caves the door led to, glowing in the approaching dark and not exactly smelling pleasant. We didn't want to press on, so we will spent the night here in the trap room obviously designed for the door in case someone wouldn't know the phrase. Teltz has set a ward, so we can both sleep. 



Bjön's Pathfinder Diary, 26th of Neth


This has been a frustrating day. After finding nothing but a temple the recent inhabitants obviously fear, slippery mold and fungi, partly in cultivation rooms but also everywhere else, and a bunch of grotesquely fungizised ants we finally found the former forge and workroom. Teltz fell and knocked his head when a beam came down. This roused a few more mites we had to deal with. Then we found the prisoners. There were 3 of them, exploration mates of Torvic. They had been locked in the storeroom after being tortured, and the strange fungus was used to torment them further. All 3 are helpless and confused, much like Torvic has been. We now have an idea what happened to Torvic.  

We could not go on with them, nor leave them, so we brought them to the temple. The place is still sacred and no one seems to dare to come in, so they should be safe while we went to find the lab the woman, Lyrehawk, talked of and the one who did those experiments on them. They weren't clear on the details, understandably. But we will soon saw.

We found the lab in the former library. Beyond a curtain of sticky yellow filaments, the corridor opened to reveal a bizarre chamber. Glowing fungi bathed the chamber  in  dim  blue  light, revealing  dozens  of  incomprehensible devices and texts heaped atop tables and shelves. Half torture chamber,  half  alchemical laboratory, one table  held the  dissected remains of a mountain goat, surrounded by blood-spattered parchments covered in cryptic notes and drawings. Strange wires projected from the goat’s remains, connected to odd-looking metallic boxes. It was the weirdest and most revolting thing I had seen in my life – although I am sure there will be worse to come if I grow old in this calling. 

We met a blue skinned humanoid - and his orc and goblin assistants -  of distinct ugliness there; the twisted picture of a scientist appeared to be quite mad. I didn't know what he was, but the bard identified him as an underground race called derro. Before I could do anything, he had either charmed the little bastard or something else, because he seemed to talk to him quite normally, at least normal for talking with mad scientists. Teltz claimed to have found a dead Torvic and said he was very interested in the derro's attempts to remove sleep, even going as far to claim that was why we had come here. They all didn't know what a paladin was, it seemed, or they would have noticed Desna's symbol on me, and would have also known there was no way I would aid any such experiments. 

Turns out Tnarat – that was his name – serves someone called Lady Morilaeth. It is still unclear what exactly that woman is, besides evil. But she can control dreams, or bring them to life, I am not sure what exactly. This is the reason for the experiments. The derro, for all they supposedly revere her, are also scared of her and want to escape her nightmares. That, I can understand. 

I saw a side on Teltz which deeply astonished me. The plight of the derro as a whole – a race forced underground by their sensitivity to light, plagued by an inborn madness they can't shake and thus driven to evil – seemed to affect him beyond what I would expect of any man serving the light. I had the impression that, given there would be anything to redeem the race, he would not hesitate to do so. He tried hard enough to keep this hidden, but I could see it clearly. I know I would gladly help him achieve this goal, too. Whatever god created such a race should vanish from the worlds forever. 

Then we heard the music drifting down the stairs. We were told that's the lady, and the screams we heard were from the attendance of her ball. It was clear that the derro was not happy about the noise, as it confused him in his research. 

I was waiting for a while as Telz exchanged notes with the scientist. Some of them, I later learned, he had gathered a long time ago when he and his former party had killed another mad scientists doing drug research. Tnarat was very excited about this, and his assistants recovered some texts and information for the bard, too. Among those were, as I later learned, valuable ancient dwarf texts. 

We learned the lady partied a lot, and that not all the derro partaking survived those events thanks to a drug they were using to get high. Teltz said he would be back and disappeared upstairs, before I could argue about it. Now the derro asked about me and what I did with the "sage from above," meaning the bard of course. I didn't know what else to say, so I said I was his assistant and bodyguard. Every scientist, after all, needed an assistant. He understood that and went on about his research. I had to think of other things while claiming to listen as to not to retch right there and then. Derro might be victims of their own existence, but that does not make their deeds and views any less vile. 

Teltz returned after a short while, describing the lady and her ball as totally whack. Supposedly, the woman was in all white make up on the throne, slightly looking like an elf but also like some sort of monster. I do not really want to know what nightmarish union she has sprung from, or I will be forced to feel some sort of pity for her. Teltz described a pendant she had, and I recognized it as a holy symbol of the vile Lamashtu. 

We were then told that, usually, the party upstairs would last several hours, and at the end the thing calling itself a lady would return to the bedroom she had made for herself in the former attenndace room behind the throne. We offered to remove the lady one and for all, which would allow the derro and mites to return to their former home the lady had dragged them from. They agreed with almost childish glee. So, now we are waiting for the party to end and that woman to go to bed. A sleeping foe is an easier to kill foe, although this somewhat goes against my sense of honor. There is no honor in a cleric of Lamashtu, though, so I'm fine with the plan. 


Bjön's Pathfinder Diary, 26th of Neth


This was almost too easy. Whatever dreams this vile woman had turned into nightmares as she slept – her specialty, we had been assured – we did not allow her to wake from it. She almost tricked us even sleeping though, as she appeared to be already dead. A trick, and a useful one, no doubt. If not for Teltz, I would have considered it to be a lucky day not to have to kill anything and left. Teltz,. To be on the sure side, set her on fire. 

He thinks this has trapped her spirit in the dream or nightmare realm, or as he calls it, the dreamscape. He mumbled something about having to go back there for her later. He didn't answer when I asked him what that was about. He sure has his secrets. 



Bjön's Pathfinder Diary, 5th of Kuthona


It was not easy to return with 3 confused, injured, traumatized strangers. We lost 4 days in the wintery mountains when we should have taken no longer than a full day. At one point, we got attacked by bears who thought we were easy prey, and they were almost right. 

It turned out that Jelja, Torvic's mother, had called in some priests of Iomedae to assist with her son. She agreed to have the others stay as well. The place sure is big enough. That leaves us taking the gnome with us, who does not want to stay. Well, there is safety in numbers, although 3 is still a pretty small number. I would have loved to stay a few more days to talk with the dwarf emissaries about reclaiming the mountains, but of course, my companion wants to press on. 

Yes, the gnome. Lerrim. I am not sure what to make of him. He might be a thief but he is not of the evil type, I checked that first. He hates devils with a passion, that is, at least, what we gathered on the road to Piren's Bluff. Something that happened in Cheliax and the reason he had been up in the mountains, trying to only survive, as he puts it. The closer we got to the small fortified town at the only pass through the mountain, the less tense he got. Now that we are here, he has decided to stick with us, probably due to the lack of accommodations. The whole area is snowed in, we barely made it here. We will not leave anytime soon and Teltz is in a bad mood about it. The only tavern in town was filled to the rim, so we and a few other more religious folk have been sent to camp in the old temple of Aroden, which is tended by a senile elf priest. A shame, really, he is fighting a lost war against time, with the temple and himself. But he is friendly enough to welcome us all. 

The mood in town is strange, somehow subdued, but this might be just because of the especially hard winter.


----------



## Lwaxy (Mar 5, 2012)

Through the icy clear afternoon, the small trek proceeded towards the shimmering gateway the two gatemages had opened. Mook, still wary of the whole idea, looked again to her wizard friend for reassurance. He smiled at her and petted his hawk familiar, but in truth he felt as worried. 

The traders they were traveling with were on their way to a place called Arthfell Forest. None of them had heard of it before, except Kronk, who claimed it was a bit of a spooky place, from what he had been told. There was no way to pass the mountains without major issues this time of year, so the traders had employed 2 gatemages who, with an enormous amount of energy, were able to open a gate from the plains outside the town they had found them in to anywhere else they had been before. Somewhat like a teleport, but different, Mook had been told. She cared less about this detail than about another. They all had to keep physical contact to one another and, through the first person in line, to one of the gatemages. As none of them could determine where they would come out, this was vital. Keeping in touch meant they would come out on a large clearing on a well traveled road. Losing contact would mean they could appear anywhere several miles away from where everyone else was. This sort of traveling was not yet well researched and supposedly people had gone lost several times before. 

One of the gatemages led the tied together wagons with several families in them. The other led the pack animals, caravan guards and guests like themselves. They were grabbing their front walker's belts, hands or backpacks, if they were not right out tied together like Zaza and Edawon and Mook and Zayel were. Most held their riding or pack animals. It was too bad not everyone fit into the wagons, Mook thought. But the wagons were filled with wares and trader families. So Mook was tied to her friend while her wolf and a donkey were tied to her. Zayel had his hawk on his shoulder, bound with a strap of leather so the familiar would not fly away in a panic. As there had not been enough ropes, Zayel held on to the belt of Majek, who led two horses and was tied to Krell. Krell in turn held on to Edawon's backpack. Kronk was riding on one of the horses Majek led, as the kobold had caught an annoying cold and was weak with fever. Strange, it was, that priests and healers could come up with all sorts of cures, but even the gods seem to be unable to find a cure for the common cold. 

On the other side of the gate, it was less cold but a lot wetter, which would probably not help Kronk at all, Mook thought. But they would have a much faster time traveling to Falcon's Hollow from that forest, so she had been told. And most likely they would find an inn to stop at and wait for the monk to feel better. 

The line with the wagon was through, and their own line was now beginning to move. Mook tried to ignore the queasy feeling in her stomach and tried to remember all the ingredients for a sweat tea to help the kobold. She hoped her remedies would even work with lizards. 

Zayel kept suppressing a cough. The close proximity to his familiar was a problem but he could let the hawk fly again as soon as they would be through. Only a few people and animals before them. Majek stepped through, without hesitation as it seemed, and the wizard and the oracle followed suit. Just when they were over the edge, in some sort of shimmering corridor only seeming to be a few feet wide, the boy sneezed. The hawk's feathers were flying, and automatically putting his hands to his nose he lost the grip on the half-orc's belt. When they were through the gate, they found themselves standing in a small, barely snow covered trail leading up over a small hill in a dense forested area. The three-quarter-elf sneezed again. 

"Oh no!" Mook exclaimed, her voice full of panic. "Now we got lost!"

Zayel had a bit of trouble freeing his hawk, who immediately flew up over the trees to check out the area. "Eh," he said, sounding hard pressed for air. "Maybbe dey a jus over de hill?" He sneezed again. There was no trace of the portal anymore. 

They had no such luck, of course. But they were not totally unlucky either, as a well build, bright colored inn with a large red sign proclaiming it THE TRAVELERS STOP INN and, judging from the horses looking out of a stable or tied to a hitching post  and all the farm wagons in the front, quite some patronage, greeted them on the other side. Above the inn's sign, stretching across the front of the building was a banner with artistic lettering stating “The Traveling Exhibition of Doctor Phineus Krane, Professor of Antiquities and Master of Shroud Artistry.” A number of colorful tents have been set up at the rear of the inn yard, apparently for this exhibition. As evening was nearing, several workers could be seen securing the tents and wares for the night. Some late visitors were on their way home or into the inn. 

"At least we will not have to sleep out in the open," Zayel, now not sounding as clogged anymore, sighed. "Look, I'm very sorry, I should have founbd a rope to tie myself to the others..."

"It's fine, we seem to be not so lost after all. We may be able to find the others, and asides, if needed, we have enough coin to make it to Falcon's Hollow on our own." Mook strode purposefully towards the inn, and Zayel shrugged and followed. 

Business was brisk as the long shadows of evening slanted through the taproom’s open windows. A bald, red-faced man wearing an apron worked behind the bar and several young girls carried platters of food and drinks to various tables. Most of the crowd seemed to be local farmers and traveling merchants, although clustered around one table sat a  rough-looking group of mercenaries, one of  whom was a short, black-cloaked figure who might be a goblin. They huddled over their drinks in quiet 
conversation, occasionally raising a head to eye the crowd. At a table nearby, a bespectacled scholarly looking fellow discussed a piece of decorated linen spread across the tabletop with a small group of onlookers. The owner of the exhibition, they guessed. 

The two of them ducked through the people to claim a small table close to the mercenaries and the group discussing the shroud. It was pleasantly warm in here, and so they dropped their cloaks and ordered some hot, spiced ale from a serving maid.

They were just about to order their second round when the one they thought to be a goblin jumped off his chair to go outside and bumped into their table. Zayel's ale spilled over and hit the creature. It protested in a squeaky voice, and his friends got up all at once, except a fat guy who looked like a bored wizard. "Hey, you spilled your drink on our friend," the tallest of them stated the obvious. "Don't think because he's a goblin you can treat him like that." 

Zayel looked confused, but Mook knew troublemakers when she saw them. She was about to reply, maybe use a spell, when two of the other customers stepped into the way of the mercenaries. "Goblins are generally vermin, and this was an accident," one of them, a broad shouldered farmer, said. "Leave if you don't like it." 

A moment later, all hell broke lose. Zayel ducked under the table while Mook stepped back to the wall. Zayel had read about bar fights happening at random but until now he had always thought this to be an exaggeration. Mook had planned to keep her back safe, but bumped into the exhibition owner, who in turn knocked over a candle, and a moment later something started burning on the table. With an enraged shriek, water was splashed over it, but Mook paid little attention. She was focused on what she now realized was an ugly slim elf woman nearing her with a stein as weapon. Of course, the staff Mook had been using lately was popped up against their table, and not counting her dagger, she had little to work with. Her wolf, of course, was waiting outside as she had no intention of worrying the farmers. In her need to defend herself, she grabbed the nearest chair and barely blocked the stein from crushing down on her shoulder. 

A loud, commanding voice could be heard over the pandemonium, demanding for everyone to drop their weapons and stop damaging the inn. Hesitantly, the locals and finally the mercenaries obeyed and returned, grumbling, to the not yet broken parts of their tables. A tall human was shoving the leader of the mercenaries into the corner, berating him about having been warned before and to leave town immediately lest they want to spend the night in jail. 

As the mercenaries left, the goblin hissed and spat at Zayel who was still hiding under the table. Mook relaxed and put her chair back where she had taken it from. "Thank you for restoring order so quickly," she told the tall human. "I take it you are the law around here?"

The man, obviously having planned to be more unfriendly, nodded in slight confusion about the compliment. "That I am. Cage Blunndee, sheriff of the area."

"We were separated from our traveling companions," Mook went on, planning to use the momentum of the conversation. "A trade caravan that used some portal magic to get us here. Shifty spell, if you ask me, as we got lost, obviously. Would you happen to know of a large clearing with a major road going through it?"

"Craggart's Meet," the bartender, busy gathering up broken glasses, replied immediately. "It is quite some distance to the east, though. You would need a few days to get there on foot."

"Just great," Zayel grumbled as he got up and dusted himself off. "We have a wolf and a donkey but I guess that would not make us that much faster."

"My shroud," the exhibition owner could now be heard at his table. "It is damaged, glad I could rescue most of it. Those mercenaries should pay for it."

"I'm glad if we never see them again," the sheriff grumbled. 

"What's it you are exhibiting?" Curiosity overcoming his annoyance the wizard went over to the table. 

"Ah!" The man bowed and introduced himself, pleased at the interest. "I'm Professor Krane, Phineus Krane. I don't think you have heard of me?" He shook his head in an imitation of the supposed elf's gesture. "Of course not. The subject of my exhibits here at the Travelers Stop is a form of artistry called shrouding. By using certain reagents and magical properties, this art allows the image of a corpse or mummy to be captured orthographically... that is to say, with height, width, and depth... on the linen shroud in question. It was once a common technique among the burial practices of certain ancient cultures but has largely been lost today. The shroud in question that was almost destroyed  carries the image of the Chelish King Haliad III. It is over four hundred years old and the centerpiece of my exhibition. Glad I warded it against most damage. Only brought it in here to show it to the young lass... oh she is gone now." The man's face showed slight disappointment as he ruffled his greying hair. 

"Isn't this a bad place to hold an exhibition, especially this time of year?" Mook wondered while Zayel studied the shroud. "Or are you only passing through?"

"Oh, I'm here with a purpose." The scholar's eyes lit up. " Five years ago, a druid named Willowroot located and recovered five artifacts that once belonged to a forgotten king named Narven. With them I can create a shroud of their former master. The items will, of course, be returned and I will create a second shroud for him to keep, finally giving the burial honor to King Narven that has been denied 
him for 200 years."

"Wow," Mook said. "And you know where this druid is? Somewhere around here?"

"Well, that is the thing. He is supposed to live around here but the scouts I hired have found any trace of the man yet. And I was hoping to be out of here before more snow falls."

"What are those items you are looking for? Maybe we can help? I have a hawk who could scout from above, and Mook here has a wolf companion and knows about forests." Zayel was definitely intrigued with all this. 

Mook frowned at her friend, but she was fascinated by the matter as well. "We could certainly try. That is, if you would take us east with you – assuming that is where you are going next – so we have a better protection from weather and foe."

"Deal!" The professor now had an almost childish look of glee. “The five items are the breastplate of sacred  fire, the wand of earth’s ire, the codex of the firmament, the vial of pure water, and  the  spirit-staff of Narven. I have here a map to the druid’s grove – although where in the forest it is, we don't know yet - and sketches of each of the five items."

"Perfect! I can't wait to get started." This was finally a mission right up Zayel's scholary alley. "Right first thing tomorrow, no?" He looked over at Mook, who nodded. 

"Good good. I'll even pay for your rooms," the professor said and waived to the innkeep. 

Zayel and Mook grinned at each other. This was much like the crazy exploits of their youth which, truth to be told, only ended a few weeks back. 




The merchant's caravan stayed on the clearing for the night, and it was only when the owner of the donkey requested its return from Mook that they noticed the gnome and the wizard were gone. The half-orc had been busy replacing an iron or two and help with a wagon while and Zaza and Edawon had made Kronk comfortable in their new tent. Krell was with the guards most of the time, trying to get as much information out of them as possible. They had assumed Mook was, as it had become a habit, patrolling the area with her companion to make sure nothing evil was out there, and Zayel was known to teach a few of the children how to read and write in the evenings.

It caused a bit of a stir, but the gate mages were long gone back by then, and from all they knew, the two of them and the animals weren't that far. "This is a well known gathering place," the leader of the guard explained. ""Most likely everyone they meet will direct them here. They might find us by early tomorrow, and at least they looked like they can take care of themselves."

While the rest of the party as not so sure about that, they simply nodded and went about their business. Not that there was anything they could do. An older man came to bring soup and medicine for the kobold – who had been quickly accepted after he drove away a group of hungry dogs from some merchant children – and the guards asked Krell if he could help stand watch that night, to which he readily agreed. 

"This is bad," Zaza mumbled while getting ready to sleep. "First we get separated from Teltz and Bjön, now we lose Mook and Samin."

"Zayel," her real brother quickly corrected. "don't forget he is Zayel now." 

"Yeah, right. In any case, it is not good." There was nothing more to say about that.



"You did what?" Sitting in front of the fire a whole pig was roasting over where he had been trying to read one of the temple's old books, Bjön stared at Teltz and the gnome who was still hanging out with them in disbelief. "How could you do such a thing?"

"Well, let's see. For one, it is a temple to a devil. Asmodeus, devil, you know?" Teltz growled. "You as a paladin should understand that. And with all the talk about this town going to hell – literally, with the baron wanting to join Cheliax – it seemed the natural thing to do."

The dwarf put the book aside and took a deep breath. "So, you two decided to torch the temple? Like, burn it down? How much damage did you do? Where you seen?"

"Yes, a lot, and no, of course not," the thief snorted. "I might've been caught by an old dwarf but only because she was a sorceress and I didn't expect her. I was fully prepared for this." 

"So was I," the bard dropped in. 

"Great. Didn't we agree we want to stay out of trouble?" Ever since they had been told by some locals how the baron, one self important human named Vendikon, had decided to side with Cheliax after they had courted him for a while, they had been talking about laying low and only trying to warn the Andoran army once the snow was gone and they could press on. Right now, it was impossible for the Chelaxians to invade, anyway. 

"We can't sit still anymore," Teltz explained. "Some agents from Cheliax arrived, and their army is only stuck in the snow or they would be here already."

"This snow will not lessen for weeks, I'm afraid," the paladin pointed out. 

"The baron's men are already harassing the townsfolk," Teltz continued. "You can't talk freely, or sing all the songs you want." Teltz had, from the moment he had assessed the situation, only used love songs or some other harmless entertainment. 

"The locals say they sneaked someone out to warn their government," Lerrim added. "So it stands to reason that as soon as the snow is gone, there will be a siege or outright battle. And we'd be in the middle unless we do something now. Plus, I know Cheliax and I hate devils."

Bjön pondered this for a moment. "Burning their temple down won't do much but make the patrols harass more people. Maybe arrest a few just because."

"It is a sign," Teltz disagreed. "And there are more citizens and visitors against this sort of betrayal than are on the baron's side. It might strengthen their morals."

"Please keep out of trouble," Bjön asked, almost pleadingly. "I agree we might want to do something, but we need to talk about what exactly in more private quarters..." he pointed to the other refugees of winter around them, who, although not in earshot, might still gather something. "And we need to think everything through carefully, alright?"

"Sure," Teltz replied. "OK," the gnome agreed less quickly. 

As the two of them left, the paladin allowed a small grin to show on his face as he picked up the book again. Going against devil worshipers was definitely his agenda, too, but he had not expected the two of them to show so much activism. He would have to be careful to steer them towards the actions he envisioned. 



It had been easy enough to locate the grove with the help of Will, the hawk. It had been a bit more difficult to get there thanks to a narrow trail, and so it was already midmorning despite them, having left the inn early, when they arrived. At the location marked on Doctor Krane’s map, a clearing opened in  the wood ahead. A crude stone altar constructed as a dolmen, a stone slab supported at either end by smaller stones, sat in the center of the clearing. Flanking it were two rough stone monoliths, lines of writing rudely chiseled into their surfaces. The altar and entire floor of the clearing was covered in a growth of thick, brown vines. 

There was writing on the upper half of both of the monoliths. Zayel used a fly spell to fly up to where the writing was. Luckily, it was in Sylvan so he could read it without help. The inscriptions on the outside of the stones contain two riddles. The first riddle said “Two miles toward the sun’s first fire, the earth’s embrace will still its ire.” The second riddle stated “A league to the south in sacred mother’s home, the royal water is returned to its own.”

The inner faces of the monoliths held three rhyming hints. The first declared “Southeast four miles the image flies, atop forest giant in azure skies.” The second said “Lofty stone reaching higher, holds in its  grasp the sacred fire.” Finally, the third stated “Six miles and some at forest’s heart, where name and namesake no longer part.”

It was easy for the flying wizard to notice the breastplate with the permanent image of a moving flame on it right atop one of the monoliths in a barely disguised concavity. He took it without worrying for traps.  

"What's it with the riddles?" Zayel wondered as he came down again and relayed the information. 

"I guess he wanted someone to find the items," Mook shrugged. "Could be part of a game to train apprentices."

"Maybe so, but the riddle about this breast plate was kinda pointless, as it was clearly visible once you read it all."

"Oh, maybe that served as a hint that those other rhymes are, in fact, leading to the artifacts." Mook shrugged. "You won't believe the dumb things gnome masters do to train their students."

"You think this druid was a gnome?" Zayel grinned. 

"Nah, probably not, or there would have been some sort of a trap," the oracle chuckled. 

"Will thinks he knows where the "giant" from the riddle is," the wizard said. "Giant tree to the south east."

Mook nodded and started down a deer trail into that direction. "Maybe if we hurry we can be back at the inn by noon."

The trees of the forest were older and grew much taller in this area. Carried softly on the breeze is a strange thumping noise. A massive hollow tree trunk towered above the surrounding woodland, once truly a forest giant. Upon one of its remaining upper limbs dangled a bone scroll case, swaying in the wind and thumping against its hollow side. This time, Zayel ordered the hawk to pick it loose and bring it down. "So, that makes two of them," he grinned. "And Will says he has found a pool of water probably related to the "royal water" riddle."

"This is easy enough," Mook agreed, "while still a bit of a challenge. I like those type of games. Maybe the druid is even expecting us?"

"Shouldn't you know?" teased the elf. "You are the oracle." Laughing, they marched on.


----------



## Lwaxy (Mar 5, 2012)

To show where on Golarion the party is and was, I've created a travel map. The different colored pins depict the locations any adventures happened in, and where the party splits Ii use different colors. Adventure paths will get their own color. 

This would later criss-cross a lot I assume, but then I'll make new maps for newer travels.


----------



## Lwaxy (Mar 8, 2012)

The next morning, the caravan broke camp a bit later than usual, but when the missing travelers did not show up, they had little choice but to continue, especially as the weather seemed to turn sour and no one wanted to be caught inside forested area in a thunderstorm in winter. It took less than an hour to clear the forest. From the storm brewing over the trees, they only got a few snowflakes and small hailstones. When the caravan turned slightly south at midday, the party decided to stick with it anyway, so they could reach the Arthrosh River with them and travel east and north on it, to turn back west right to Falcon's Hollow. It was much better than going through the hills alone. 

Kronk, because he was still too sick to do much, talked about his home in the area of Falcon's Hollow, about the Lumber Consortium owning basically everything there – including, so it seemed, the people. Most who came to the taown never managed to leave again, usually barely surviving with what they made from cutting down wood for their employers. Those who protested often vanished, and it was not assumed they just went up and left. Kronk's clan had all but stopped trading with the town in the last decade. 

It didn't really sound like a place to settle at when they were done helping with the problem of the other kobolds there. Majek was especially disappointed about that. "Not that I don't like traveling, I wanna see the world. But not so much world at once, and with less perils coming our way."

Just as he said that, an elf they had not noticed before neared their group on a sorrel horse with a shining fur. It was an older man, with a regal aura about him despite the worn traveling robes which blended in well with the surroundings. "Do you think your elf friend will catch up with you soon?" he asked without introduction. 

Majek blinked, while Zaza stared at the elf outright. "We have no way of knowing that," she said. "Hasn't anyone told you that it is rude to talk to people like that without introducing yourself?"

The elf looked down at the halfling and smiled, if barely so. "My name is of no concern to you, but your friend is of great concern to me.If you see him again, tell him to meet me in Augustana. He can leave a message at the Tree Top Inn if I should happen to be away." With that, he turned his horse around and rode off to the head of the caravan. Not even the guards looked at him as he turned onto a trail away from them a moment later. 

"What was that all about?" Edawon blurted out.

"Devil if I know," Malik grumbled. "But that was one mighty arrogant elf, and he can stay in Augustana as long as he wants and not cross my part again."

"Well, we are going the other direction anyway. I just hope the two of them are fine and will find us soon. I can't help but worry," Zaza signed. 


The two in question, Zayel and Mook and their animals, had come to a large pool formed from a bubbling, clear spring surrounded by thickets. It looked relatively deep but they couldn't see all the way down because of the spring troubling the water and some ice at the borders. 

Mook was about to comment on the peaceful scenery and admire the beauty of nature, when all of a sudden a flash of energy struck her painfully in the chest, throwing her backwards to land on her behind. Dooda was at her side snarling at the bushes immediately, but she barely registered that. Her robe was torn and smoldering, and she had problems breathing. 

Zayel had been diving for cover at the first sight of the flash. He knew the spell and noticed its origins to be somewhere to the left and front of them. The hawk let out an angry screech and dove into the bushes without being told so, and a surprised voice cried out in pain a moment later. Then the grey streak of the wolf flew by. Zayel got up again as quickly as he could and went after his bird, worried the next magic missile would strike the familiar down. He drew the short sword he had at his side since their stint on the island, never mind he had barely learned which end was front. As so often, the young man forgot that spells would be his best defense, as he could barely think clearly. 

He found the wolf had locked his jaw firmly in the leg of a fat man vaguely familiar, while the hawk was clawing at the bald head and face. The stranger beat at the wolf with a wooden club but missed half of the time, partly because there was blood running into his eyes so he could barely see. Then his hand went to a solid belt and reached for a bottle of what seemed to be a potion. 

"Hey, stop!" Zayel called out. The stranger hesitated, as if he was about to do as asked,. But something drove him to continue beating at the wold even as his hand opened the bottle. With some difficulty thanks to the hawk attacking, he drank it. A moment later, he appeared blurred as if seen through moving water or a rainy window. The hawk let out an angry shriek, but was confused enough to take off for a moment. 

Mook's crossbow bolt flew wide of the man. Slightly unsteady on her feet, the oracle tried to aim anew. Zayel lost his balance just that moment when his feet became entangled in some roots. The young man fell forward without being able to grab anything to hold him upright. His sword, which he had been holding with obvious incompetence, flew out of his hands and went right through their attacker's chest. The fat guy fell without another sound, and the wolf barely jumped aside not to b buried under him. 

Staring in shock, Zayel tried to get up again. "Wow... wow... who was that?"

Mook stared at the dying man with no sympathy, clutching her chest. "That's one of those folks from the inn, remember? The ones with the goblin trying to make trouble." 

"Oh, Yeah." Zayel could not make himself to retrieve the bloody sword in the man's chest. "Why in the name of all gods was he here ambushing us?"

"Maybe after the same things we are? They could be considered valuable, you know." 

As the wolf whined and danced around his master, Zayel became aware of how Mook looked. "You are hurt."

The oracle limped a bit as she came closer. "Yes but it is not only the magic that hit me. I think the other magic is beginning wear off." She lifted her left hand and showed a simple, wooden ring on her middle finger. It had been part of their payment after they had cleared out the manor ruins. It was filled with a magic allowing an oracle to ignore her curse, or even multiple curses, until its color faded to white. The ring had been of an almost black wood, and now it was light brown and there were many white streaks.

"The clerics said it can be recharged, yes?" Zayal said.

"Yes but, that is a major undertaking, and not something done on the trail. Let's finish this quickly so we can be on our way before anyone notices what I am."

"What you are is not evil," a tiny voice behind them said. From the surface of the pool, the head of a nixie was peeking out, smiling shily. "But this man was, and his companion, so I charmed him."

"I see," Mook nodded in complete understanding. 

"Here," the nixie said and handed over the vial they were looking for. "You and your wolf need to drink this to make the hurt go away."

While Mook took the vial and gave to her wolf first, Zayel introduced them. "We are looking for just that vial for a ritual. Would you be willing to borrow it out? We'll return it after, as with all the other stuff we need." 

"You will bring it back? Promise on the power of nature?" 

"We promise," Mook replied before Zayel could think about what exactly that meant. 

"Watch yourselves out there," the nixie said. "There are more bad people out there." Then she vanished. 

"Oh, I would have had another question," Zayel sighed. 

"What question?" Mook, looking decidedly better now, retrieved the bloody sword and cleaned it before handing it to Zayel, who absentmindedly took it. 

"How she makes do in the cold water. I mean, we all know water conducts heat away from the body, and the nixies don't grow winter fat or anything so..."

Mook laughed like she had not done in a long time. "You arcane types, always the weirdest questions. It's probably magic. Now, let's hurry."

A while later, the trees parted, revealing a small clearing before a steep embankment. A dark, eight-foot-diameter opening breached the small rise. Small humanoid footprints were leading from the cave. A snoring could be heard from inside, and when Mook checked, she found a black bear in his winter sleep in front of an empty wooden coffer where the wand must have been. "Too late," she simply stated. 

"So we have to hunt down those thugs now?" Zayel was really upset upon hearing that. 

"Let's get to the last part first, and worry about them later," Mook decided. She turned into the direction the last riddle had indicated. 

An ancient road wound its way through the trees, some of which encroached upon the road itself. Dimly visible in the green gloom ahead was an old ramshackle building. It was so overgrown and encrusted with moss and ferns among its shingles as to almost seem to be a part of the forest itself, a fey hillock here at the heart of the primeval wood. Closer examination revealed  gaping windows and an open doorway, the door hanging by the remains of one leather hinge.

"Nice place," Zayel mumbled. He felt he was done running through the forest for today. He peeked in through the door, which promptly fell off. The boy barely jumped aside to avoid getting his feet slammed. "It is all rotting in here," he called back to Mook. Something stirred in the back of the former common room just as he said that. 

"Step back," Mook called. "This place has a protector." The gnome pointed behind Zayel, and he saw a wooden trunk with many movable branches making its way towards him. Mook mumbled a few ancient sounding words in the druidic language – a language she had learned from her mother while she had still hoped to become a druid. Before the curse of the oracle had gotten a hold on her. 

The defender turned towards her, shuddered, and stood still. Zayel let out a breath of relief. "What is that thing?"

"Kind of a walking tree. It will not harm us as long as we stay friends of nature. It was made to defend the woods from intruders with bad intentions. Or," she pointed, "in this case, the room."

"I'm glad I have you with me," Zayel admitted. Mook grinnded widely at that compliment. 

A few minutes later, they had found goblin skeletons, the skeleton of what looked to be a satyr of sorts and the remains of a centaur. Next to the fallen apart fire pit was a gleaming skull and spinal column – which for some weird reason made Mook giggle like a little girl – and after another minute or so, Zayel finally noticed that the staff they were looking for was under those remains. He grinned again like a child finding a Spring Festival egg, but a snarling voice stopped him in his movements.

"Hold it right there, kid. That's ours, and by the way, so is the rest of the stuff you took." The tall, imposing human they had seen leading th mercenaries at the inn stood in the doorframe, wearing a mixture of mocking grin and serious determination. "You are but children, and outnumbered, too. You better be smart." 

Zayel didn't really listen. His eyes were fixed on a member of the opposing party he had not noticed last night. A female elf, thin and pale with all white hair, looking so full of light and pure while she was joining up with those bad people. She was standing right next to the goblin, too, as if that was the most normal thing. For some reason, this caused a deep sense of dislike, yes even hatred, inside Zayel. All he wanted was to bring her down.

"I'm not a child," Mook replied. "And we are not exactly outnumbered. But if you would let us outside, we won't stand in the way."

The tall man's smile was one of victory now. "You will give what you took to her," he pointed at the elf.

Zayel frowned. He was not to give anyone anything, especially not that elf. But as the leader of their foes stepped aside, bow drawn, Mook took him by the elbow and steered him outside. "defender," she whispered. The boy's face brightened as he understood. 

The goblin and the human went inside, while the elf turned to them with what could only be said to be an evil smile. "Now, hand over what is ours like nice little children."

"I just said before," Mook replied as if talking to an imbecile, "I'm not a child. And all we have is this," she lifted the scroll from a pocket. "You have the staff already, and your friend was throwing magic at us when we came to the pool." She indicated her damaged robes as proof. "Not like we could get past him. And that vine on the clearing, we wanted to get back to later, with some fire to root it out."

Vine? Zayel only vaguely remembered some growth on that clearing. Was Mook making that up or had he not noticed the danger he had been in when checking out the columns. He promised himself to be more watchful of his surroundings from now on. 

The elf's face contorted and she was about to reply, when the sound of fighting could be heard from inside. For a moment, the woman stood frozen, then she decided it was wiser to help her friends. She disappeared into the building and a moment later there was the flash of some spell. "I'm glad I put the breastplate and the rest in the bag of holding," Zayel moaned. "But what now? We need the rest of the set."

"We'll wait, of course," Mook announced as if that was the most natural thing in the world. "If the goblin tries to run, Dooda and Will can grab him. If one of the others comes out, well, you have some spells, don't you? So have I, but they probably won't anymore."

"Sometimes I swear you are evil," Zayel shook his head. "But I  like it."

Mook was right about the goblin. A few minutes into the fight, the sneaky little mercenary came running out of the ruins, both the staff Zayel had wanted to take before and the wand they had not been able to find earlier tucked under his robes. The staff was really large and made the attempt to flee look pathetic. It was obvious the goblin had not forgotten them, as he drew the wand as he came out and pointed it at them. A moment later though, the hawk had disarmed the unsuspecting little guy, and a snarling wolf had his teeth right at the shrieking goblin's throat. "Very nice," Mook simply stated, taking the staff from their foe while Zayel collected the wand from his familiar. "Finish him off."  

Dooda did as asked, and Zayel had to jump back to avoid the blood spray as the screeching goblin was torn apart. She had the same air around her Zayel had seen when she first confronted the skeletal dragon in the golden city. He did not like that, but he decided not to comment. "Do we leave now?" he asked.

"You bet, and the faster the better. I'm not sure the defender would win, plus they might decide to leave when they notice their treacherous friend is gone." With that, Mook hurried back the way they had come,leaning on the newly acquired staff. She was limping less than before but it was clear the magic of the ring would only last a day longer or so. If they were lucky.


----------



## Lwaxy (Mar 8, 2012)

*Tower of the Last Baron/Hollow's last Hope*

"What are you composing?" Bjön sat the small basket of winter apples next to the fire he was sharing with the bard and sat down next to the human with his lute, looking a bit tired. He had helped shoveling snow around the temple all day, and helped with an injured trapper who had been brought in earlier. The dwarf took an apple and relaxed on the bench. 

"I'm trying to compose a teleport song. I can only teleport to certain places if they have a specific song written for them, and I need to compose that song while I am there. I admit it is far superior in many ways to what wizards do, but my bard school has made sure we all know the advantages, too." Teltz smiled at the surprise in the paladin's face. "I can only go to places I, personally, have written songs about, even if they are just short ones. I need to capture the feeling of a place, and I will know just when a song is right. So no sharing with other bards, and no simply going where I was before. On the bright side, once written, I need no spell components and not even an instrument, my voice is enough, and as opposed to a wizard, I can carry any number of people listening with me, and chose who, too." 

"Now that's neat. How often can you do that? Have you done it before? Why didn't you tell me?" 

"In theory," the bard smiled and sat down his instrument, "I can do it at any time. However, it takes time. It does not always work because to some places I just have no good connection. There is also the possibility that, once done with the song, my other spells will not work for a while afterwards, depending on how long it took me to get it just right. Of course, I also need to be right at the place I want to teleport to when writing the magic. This place seemed good, not very frequented usually, in a place where it might make sense to return to given that it looks like we'll be all over the world for a while and, most importantly, I have the time and inspiration right now.

I've not done it often before," the bard continued, taking an apple as well. "Mainly because the places you write about seem to take a piece of you and make you want to return. Or maybe it is more like they anchor a part of you. Most bards feel that way, those who don't sometimes get lost during a teleport. I did it at the inn in Tamran, because I had to wait so long and my connection to that place was strong. We might need to go back there eventually." 

Bjön nodded. "Good idea. Kassen, too?"

"Yeah, a place just outside the town. I was using it to go back when I visited an old family member about who's home I also have a song about. Never even told Samin about it." He took a deep breath. "It is an ability that tends to make people pressure you to write songs about places they like when they travel with you. And they do not understand I cannot make songs all the time about all sorts of places, especially those I'm not connected to."

"No doubt. How often can you teleport?" Bjön took another apple. 

"Once, at best twice a day. I haven't tried more than twice, anyway, and usually I let a day pass because I am really very exhausted afterwards."

"When do you expect to be done with this one?" the dwarf inquired while changing into his night gowns. Most other guests of the temple were already sleeping. 

"I'm almost done. An hour or so more – if the music will not bother you." 

The dwarf smiled widely. "Your music never bothers me unless it is too loud or about women of ill repute cheating their customers."

Chuckling, the human picked up his lute again. A while later, just when he was finally done, he noticed Lerrim making his way through the sleepers over to their fire. "You know Bumbo?" he asked as he sat down to warm himself up. His face was grim. 

"Yeah of course, that imbecile nephew of the baron working at the kennels." Teltz put his things away and got ready for the night. "What about him?"

"Well, he's no imbecile, and I doubt he is the nephew of the baron. That son of a bitch is a spy." 

Teltz stopped in his movements. "How do you figure?" 

"Saw him sneaking about town, listening in on people who think he doesn't get what he's talking about. I used that tactic before. Then tonight, I followed him back to the kennel and he went into the lair of the largest bitch with pups and didn't come back out. So I talk to the dog and she says he is going down a tunnel every few nights and when he comes back he smells all liquor and food and like the baron."

Teltz whistled. "Now that's interesting. Good thing Bjön didn't let on about being a paladin."

"I was thinking," the thief continued. "If there is a tunnel that goes right into the dragon's lair, so to say, why not use it to kill the baron and rid the area of Chelish influence? The Andoran army is gathering for war, or at least a siege, once spring is around, but if we get the issue solved before we could all be on our happy ways. Not that he would like the idea." Lerrim pointed at the snoring paladin. 

"Yeah, that would be a favorable approach," the bard agreed. He thought of his inkling that he might soon need a teleport song to this place. "But we'll need Bjön to fight off the guards."

"You can do sleep spells, can't you?" Lerrim wondered. 

"Yeah but... see I just did something magical not making it likely my spells will all work as they should in the next few days, so we might have to wait a while."

"Alright, but a few days at most, ok? I have a feeling that arrests will begin soon." He didn't have to point out that strangers were usually the first ones arrested. 



Traveling by boat around the wide arch of the rivers Arthrosh, Andoshen and Foam to Falcon's Hollow had been without incident. The trader who owned the boat they had hired stopped at the town anyway to deliver some of the more rare supplies to the Lumber consortium families. This time though, he was in a hurry to be away as soon as he had dropped his wares and advised them to run as well. 

There was no doubt the town was in peril. Perched at the edge of civilized lands, the small town of Falcon’s Hollow had always had to rely on itself to solve its problems. Meanwhile, the uncaring lumber barons squeezed the common folk for every last copper, deaf to their pleas. Now the hacking coughs of the sick could be heard throughout town. The plague had come to Falcon’s Hollow and the town’s leaders couldn’t be bothered to stop it.

Majek, Zaza, Edawon and Krell were walking through the town the same morning of their arrival – having left the sick and disguised kobold at the Jak’a’Napes inn – the weirdest name for an inn in their opinion. From what they gathered, with the cold and wet weather, a mysterious plague had sprung up which defied all attempts to cure it. The only cleric around here could not heal diseases, and the woman in charge of herbal remedies seemed at her wits end. There had been casualties already, and Krell commented on how dumb that consortium could be not to want the town – and thus themselves and the business – healthy. The answer was probably, so they realized as they checked out the place in slowly falling snow, that there could only so much lumber be won still, and they probably already planned relocating their business, and thus leaving the town to doom anyway. Save those who followed them, of course. 

"We should talk to that herbal lady," Edawon suggested. "Maybe there is something we can do, healing components we can bring in, anything." He pointed at a shop close to them. Dried out creeping ivy and full window boxes covered the font of the rugged-looking, two-story shop bearing the faded sign “Roots and Remedies.” A line of twenty-some somber townsfolk, some with pale, wheezing children, others seeming to be precipitously near tears, stretched from the open door. 

"Well, that would take a while," Zaza protested. "And I'm not standing close to infected people, thank you." 

Majek shrugged and started pushing through the line while dragging Zaza and Edawon behind him, trusting that Krell would follow. He didn't quite like to wait and talk, it was time for some action. Ignoring the protests of the waiting people, he burst into the shop. 

The smell of burnt earth and spicy incense choked the air of the cramped, mud-tracked shop. Bunches of dried herbs hung from the ceiling, along with dangling  pots, presses, alchemical apparatuses, and glassware of more arcane purposes. Pouches of rare plants, jars of colored glass, and all manner of dried, preserved, and jellied animal parts filled high shelves and tables doing double duty as displays and workspaces. In the shop’s rear, a rail-thin woman with severe looking spectacles and hair pulled back tightly busied herself between an overpacked rack of herbs, a table covered in stray powders and measuring equipment, and a pot loudly bubbling over with thick gray froth. Over the din of her work and without looking up, the woman impatiently shouted “And what’s your problem?”

"Uhm... we actually wanted to help with this disease?" Zaza posed it like a question to be on the save side. "We've arrived this morning and thought we might have something you need to make the right medicine."

"You?" The woman looked over her glasses, studying them. "Unless you happen to have some strange ingredients for a potion my grandmother wrote down, you are of no help to curing blackscour taint."

"So that's what it is called," Edawon nodded. "Never heard of it."

“It’s a sickness, almost like any other, but you get the mold growing in you. It starts eating away in your chest and belly and is damned determined to stay. Your body near turns itself inside out trying to hack the stuff up, but all that does is cuts your guts up… bad. Blackscour itself is just a fungus that’s not  good for anything.  Hard, bitter, and sharp, it likes the water and gets you sick if you drink it down. Never heard of it growing around these parts, though, until now.” The woman went back to stirring the pot. "Not many non-humans around these parts. You'll be certain to get attention."

"You said your grandmother had a cure?" The half-orc brought the topic back to the matter at hand. 

“My grandmother’s book has a brew in it that says its good for this kind of thing. Some rare roots and concentrations, most of which I have here, but there’s three I don’t. Elderwood moss, which I’ve never heard of, but granny says the stuff only grows on the oldest tree in a forest. A specially pickled root called rat’s tail, and ironbloom mushrooms, stunty little things that only grow in dark places thick with metal, a favorite among dwarves, or so I hear.”

Zaza scratched her head, while Majek and Krell shook theirs. Only Edawon nodded. "I know of Elderwood moss and the mushrooms," he said. "Never heard of the root but I could most likely find it. Do you know where they are supposed to grow around here?"

“Well, for the Elderwood mold, there’s gotta be an oldest tree in the vale. Damned if I know where it is, though. The rat’s tail and mushrooms are even longer shots. Way north, toward the mountains, people say there used to live a bunch of dwarves. They’re not there anymore, but I’d bet their forges are. If you can find ironbloom anywhere around here, that’d be your best bet. As for the rat’s tail, who knows? Actually, Ulizmila, the witch that lives deep in the woods might. She’s a crafty, mean thing that knows all sorts of strangeness. She might even have one. I don’t know what she might want for it if she is still alive, but I doubt it’d come cheap. My grandmother traded her sight to the old crone for a few pages of what she knew, and that was years and years back, and I don’t know a soul who got any nicer as they got older.” The woman was now stirring more vigorously, as if the topic angered or depressed her. Most likely, she was believing that no one would try and find anything, even with Edawon's offer.

"Any ranger or trapper or other woodsperson I could get in contact with to get started?" the halfling asked. 

Wiping the sweat of her brow and looking pointedly at the door, in front of which people had started to protest loudly, Laurel the herbalist thought for a moment. "Milon Rhodam, I guess. He should be in the eastern lumber camp at the moment, trying to get as many trees down as possible before the snow gets too much, as always."

"Thanks, I'll see what I can do." Edawon waved the others out of the shop and they made their way back to their inn. 

"You see what you can do?" Zaza snorted. "All alone?"

"Not quite, I'm taking him." He pointed at the half-orc. "Someone has to stay with Kronk, and neither of you has some survival experience. Majek can at least fight, better than the two of you anyway." 

Zaza was about to protest, but Krell nodded and, considering she felt cold already, the halfling had no desire to stay out and about any longer than necessary, so she just nodded. So that afternoon, dressed in their warmest clothes, her half-brother and the ranger left to arrive at the lumber camp before the night. 

The trek took a while, but asides from two wolves trying to eat them and quickly being discouraged by Majek's whirling ace, nothing happened. When they arrived, it was getting dark. The Lumber Consortium Camp cut an ugly scar of stumps into a dense stand of proud darkwood trees. Five sturdy-looking log buildings - seemingly a bunkhouse, meal hall, office, barn, and smithy - stood with numerous wide carts and sleds amid the sawdust covered clearing.

Asking around for Milon Rhoddam got them directed to a blunt, quiet man, who everyone agreed was one of the most experienced wanderers and woodsmen in the region. His nephew had taken ill with blackscour taint and so he gladly sketched the two of them a rough map of the forest, marking the location of where he believed Ulizmila’s hut, the oldest tree in the forest, and the dwarf ruins stood. He also invited them to his small hut for the night, and while they had to sleep on the ground, it was way better than being out in the cold. 


-------------------------

Almost up to date with the progress again!


----------



## Lwaxy (Mar 15, 2012)

"So, what exactly," Zayel inquired, much to be rid of Madam Velomina's constant talk about what he considered to be the most boring topics as to really find out, "does a summoner really do? I have learned it is a specialty of arcane magic, but a lot of people summon all sorts of things and are usually called conjurers."

Happy to be asked the question, partly because being bored with the exhibition caravan's beast master's gossip as well, the plump girl sitting with them on the first wagon, flashed a smile at the young wizard. "It's not quite the same. I'm able to call forth... or maybe force into existence, not so sure yet which... beings from other planes. They can take on any sort of shape, as it seems. Before I ran from the Summoner's Guild, I saw all kinds of weird creatures. They don't seem to follow a pattern. And you need to spend a lot of magical power to help the eidolon grow – that's what they are called, eidolons – so you never really get to learn as much in the ways of other spells like normal sorcerers do. And it seems, we are not real sorcerers anyway, as we are not normally associated with any bloodline."

Zayel nodded. "So those beings are under the summoner's control? All the time until the summoner dies? Isn't that much like slavery?"

The black haired girl shuddered. "Yes. Although the eidolons also vanish when they are killed here – they are not truly dead, you know, we can call upon them again, just like a normal summon. And usually, they also go away while we sleep. Usually, but some summoners can prevent that, and some eidolons are here for so long they do consider this plane their home and don't leave anymore at all.

The issue of enslaving another being is why I ran. You see, the guild needs more apprentices, so they keep buying kids and young adults from poor parents or slave markets. I was bought as a toddler, because I supposedly displayed great talent." She grimaced at that. 

"How awful. I never understand why any intelligent being would want to own another. But didn't that free you, in the end?" 

The canvas of the wagon moved a little, and Zayel could see the outline of Mook listening in. Mook was very reluctant to talk to anyone, as her stutter was back with the lack of magic to suppress it. At the moment, her excuse was that she had a cold and was hoarse, but eventually she would have to find a way to recharge the ring or talk in her old way again. Now that she had a while without the curses, she was acting even more shy than she had all her life. 

Tiva, the summoner girl, shook her head. "Once you are stuck in a guild at such a young age, you are bound to a master, or several masters, and because they paid for you you are supposed to learn all you can and then work it off. I was made to summon an eidolon, even of that was the last thing I wanted to do."

"No one should ever be made to do anything," Madam Velomina offered, although it was clear that she didn't understand half of what they were talking about. 

"So, you ran." Zayel nodded again. "I was told not to ask a woman her age, but you seem awfully young."

"Not much younger than you are, I suppose, although it is hard to say with you elves." She flashed him another grin. "I'm 13, and that's almost grown up unless you are a sheltered noble." 

"Where's your eidolon, then? You said they forced you to call one." 

"I didn't call it back the last time it vanished when I had to sleep. Seems wrong for me to keep it bound here." Tiva looked a little sad despite her words. 

"I t-though," Mook fell in, coughing to mask her stutter, "that you s-summoners had a b-bond with the e-eidolons?"

"Yeah, we do." Tiva turned to Mook and frowned. "You should be resting."

"C-can't you f-feel it through the b-bond? D-don't you m-miss it?" Mook seemed exhausted from trying to mask her stutter but Madam Velomina obviously thought her too sick to be up and began to steer her back towards her cot with a lot of tut-tuts and head shaking. 

"I do miss it... her." Tiva looked even more sad now. 

""Then don't you think," Zayel picked up now that he got where Mook wanted to go with this, "that the eidolon misses you, too? After all, you created it, or at least gave it form. You are its master. Or even its god, in a way."

Tiva grimaced. "You are telling me I'm responsible," she sighed. "But I never asked to be, and I'm barely responsible for myself. And I don't want a slave, really."

Zayel didn't say anymore as they kept moving towards the rising sun. But he knew already, from his own experience and others,' that it was not so easy to rid yourself of responsibility, no matter your age. He had tried to ignore it, defy it even with the antics he and his friends had been up to until not so long ago. But here he was, not sure at all where his path would lead him. 



"You can never be sure where your path will lead you," Bjön sighed and checked his equipment one last time. "I would have never thought I'd be sneaking into a stronghold to assassinate a devil worshiper. At least not under such circumstances. And I still have no idea what makes me do it."

"Probably your sense of duty as a paladin?" Teltz offered. "Or maybe you don't want us to get caught and die without your heroic aid?"

"It was a rhetorical question," the dwarf snorted, then he looked at the two of them. "I'm ready. Let's just try to avoid unneeded bloodshed." 

All clad in black – even the armor had been darkened with soot – they made their way out of the old temple, clinging to the nearby palisades of the town's wall until they reached the intimidating estate of the wealthy Almir family, with its dragons and gargoyles decorating the windows and roof. From there, they rushed over the street to pause in the shadow of the dogyard's shabby building. A single bark sounded as one of the dogs had either heard or smelled them, but nothing else stirred. Lerrim had visited the owner of the kennels a bit earlier and managed to spike the evening meal of the dogs with dreamleaf. Bjön had considered asking why he had a stock of the herb but then had decided against it. After all, it was handy now. 

"Where do we need to go?" Bjön mouthed. 

Lerrim pointed to one of the kennels, then he opened the door to the shack. It gave off little noise; the snoring of the inhabitants of the humble dwelling was a lot louder. Lerrim had been forthcoming with dreamleaf regarding the owner's bottle of liquor as well. By what they had found out, the supposed imbecile, Bumbo, would be sleeping now as well, having been to the baron's place earlier that night, as Lerrim had observed. 

The dogs were sleeping soundly, only one lifted a tired head and let out another bark, then fell back asleep. They reached the tunnel entrance in one of the bitches' kennel and just had to shove the snoring dog aside. Soon thereafter, the trio was on their way upwards in a tunnel wide enough for two to march in and not crouch too much. A small lantern they had taken from the dogyard was the only light, but it was more than enough to see the end of the tunnel in time to not bump into each other. Lerrim concentrated, and a moment later, he looked a lot like the spy usually using this tunnel, complete with a cloak too long and all the mismatched colors for the rest of the clothes.

As the thief pushed up the trapdoor to come out in an empty boy of the baron's stable – as he had assumed he would – two guards turned towards him, only slightly alarmed. They relaxed immediately when, in the dim light, they took the imperfect illusion for the real Bumbo. They looked back towards their dicing game, waiting for the dice to finish spinning. 

They never knew the outcome, as two throwing daggers flew silently towards them, each of them embedding itself deep into one of the guard's throats. They died gargling in their own blood, not comprehending what was happening. "All clear," Lerrim announced. 

The others came up behind him. Bjön frowned. "Didn't we agree no unneeded bloodshed?"

"This was very much needed," Lerrim replied drily. "We'll probably have to face more guards outside the stable."

The two more guards sleeping against the stable walls proved no problem, indeed. Teltz threw a sleep spell at them for extra measure, glancing at the thief to let him know he could have done that before. Then they glanced around.

To get to the keep from the stables, they had to go over open ground. Going as they were would cause too much attention to the bard cleaned them up with magic and then disguised himself like one of the guards. His illusion was a lot better than the one the gnome had come up with. Lerrim looked decidedly annoyed about that. Then Teltz went to disguise the dwarf as well. After that they hurried over the yard towards the entrance to the keep. No one seemed to be looking too closely as they arrived in front of the doors and knocked. 

The guards inside peered out at them through a spyhole. "Password?" one of them asked rather bored. 

Teltz and Bjön tried not to look at Lerrim at the question. They just hoped the gnome had not gotten the wrong information from the serving girl he had charmed earlier. 




Majek had had a restless night. Not because he was worried too much about what was ahead of them – they had been to a fabled golden city and made it through some other perils after all – but because this was the first time he was away from Zaza in almost all his life, not counting the few times when he had been with Samin – Zayel, he corrected himself – and the girls had been off to do their thing. Fact was, they had always been close enough to each other to should out from a window and get an answer, even if that would have woken or otherwise annoyed half the town. He wondered if Zaza felt the same way, or if she was adapting to the new situation quicker than he was. She used to call him too sentimental, and maybe she was right. 

"...badly injured," Edawon's words made it through to the maze of his thoughts

The half-orc stopped daydreaming and blinked. "What?" he asked. 

"The fox." The ranger pointed to the edge of the forest. There, barely visible in the early morning dark, not far from the edge of a forest-shrouded lake they had noticed just a few minutes before, a fox with large ears and bright orange fur was lying bleeding, its hindquarters caught fully in the jaws of a crude iron trap. It was crying pitifully while trying to pull itself free. 

"Stupid people using stupid traps," Majek harrumphed. Around his hometown, such traps were forbidden; the druids made an example out of everyone not heeding the rule. Obviously, other parts of the world cared a lot less about fair hunting methods. Maybe they lacked druids here. 

The fox was on the grass covered shore of the lake, closer to the water than the forest. Edawon and Majek were walking on a small trail beyond the forest edge. The half-orc didn't want and noisily made his way through the bushes and low trees to reach the injured animal. The halfling quickly followed. 

With a few quick moves, Majek sat the lantern he was carrying down and freed the poor creature from the trap, noticing that it would not be able to walk. He was about to inquire what they were supposed to do now, but before he could get a word out, a badly aimed arrow landed a few meters next to him. Then there was screeching in the air above him. When he looked up, the alchemist could see 2 large black birds, somewhat like crows just bigger. They were going to attack Edawon. 

"Hobgoblin," the ranger shouted and pointed. Majek looked towards a patch of bushes directly at the river. Sure enough, a wildly painted hobgoblin stood there, firing another arrow that missed by not so much. 

"Trap," Majek growled. "The fox was bait. I'll give him bait." He uncorked a flask from his belt – one of the last of his alchemist's fires – and aimed it at the bush. The foiiage wouldn't be dry this time of year, but alchemist's fire didn't care about that. His aim proved to be true and before the hobgoblin attacker could aim another arrow at one of them, the bushes with him still inside went up in flames. "Hobgoblin torch," the half-orc nodded, pleased with himself. He didn't even notice that, a few weeks ago, he would have been shocked at the pure idea to torch a living being like that. 

The hobgoblin shrieked and did the only thing he could do. He jumped into the water. It did him little good, however, as a giant snake shot out from the icy lake and grabbed the trashing prey. The big ravens flew off once their master was gone. "Looks like we better keep some distance to that shore," Edawon said, checking out his cuts. Then he moved to the terrified fox. "Do we have any healing magic left?"

"Not that much. Sure you want to use it on the fox?" Majek was doubtful. As much as he loved animals, healing magic was hard to come by, now that Mook and Zayel were not with them. They had already invested quite some of the money gained in their earlier exploits into potions and would probably need to invest even more. 

"I can patch her up, but I would have to carry her with us," Edawon explained. "And I am rather certain what we are about to do doesn't need an injured animal we would need to protect." 

"Alright." Majek went through his backpack and handed Edawon one of the almost empty salves. Those were as effective as any potion, but of course you could only use them on the outside, so they were a bit less expensive.

The first hint of real sunbeams could be seen through the branches and over the lake now. Majek gathered the lantern he had put down when he had freed the fox and put it out. "Looks like this is going to be an interesting day. In the positive way." 




"Red crow, white crow," Lerrim said, trying to sound as bored by the procedure as the guard was. The spyhole closed, and a moment later the door swung open. As soon as they were inside, the door closed again, the guards not paying any more attention, looking ready to fall asleep. That was what they had hoped for and the reason for sneaking it at this time of day. They pretended not to care either and quickly looked around. Heavy pine doors fitted with brass moldings depicting ravens in flight gave way to a T-shaped entry hall. Marble plinths in each of the four corners supported claw-footed braziers holding cherry-red coals. Thick tapestries were hanging from the east and west walls, starting near the twenty-foot-high ceiling and reaching within inches of the gray flagstone floor. Each one depicted a murder of crows with sparkling black gemstones for eyes—one on a field of white, the other on a field of crimson.

They knew from the servant girl that the baron's sleeping room was on the second floor, so they kept moving to the end of the hall. After another quick look, they turned right to where the stairs where. "Left room next to the balcony," Lerrim whispered, although no one was close to hear them and even if so, his whispering would have probably been more suspicious than speaking normally. 

A wide hallway ran the length of the keep’s second floor, ending in stairs at one end and doors out to a balcony at the other. Five other doors exited the hallway into adjacent chambers. Paintings, tapestries, and narrow pedestals supporting ivory busts decorated the walls of the hallway. To their dismay, 8 guards stood watch along the hallway. Lerrim hissed. The girl he had made to tell him the basics had never mentioned them. 

"Run," Teltz whispered without moving his mouth. "Say you need to talk to the baron right now. We'll take care of the rest."

Confused by the situation and not knowing what else to do, the gnome nodded and started walking very fast rather than running towards the balcony, ignoring the guards next to the stairs. "Need to talk to the baron," he huffed, making it sound like he had come running all the way. The guards, holding out spears at the ready, didn't seem to know what to do. It seemed that the baron's spy coming here this time of day was not a normal occurrence. 

All their eyes on the supposed spy, they ignore the supposed guards. Not wanting to waste too much magic if he could help it, Teltz drew his own knifes and proved he could hit a small target as well as the gnome. He had the 2 closest guards in the hall downed when Lerrim, pretending to be out of breath, bowed down to put his hands on his knees. He had no idea which of the doors to turn to now. 

Bjön was following as quickly as he could but it took him longer to cut down the guards at the stairs than it took Teltz to move on to the next two guards. Their total surprise, both at the spy's appearance and at being attacked, stopped them from doing anything but dying, yet Bjön had the feeling his short dwarf legs would never make it to any other guard. They did not have to, either. Suddenly righting himself, Lerrim threw another dagger which sank into the heart of one of the guard, then jumped at the other with a much larger knife. Teltz made a weird gesture with his hand, much like tying a bowstring, and one of the remaining guards grasped for air while turning blue. The bard paid little attention as he as already avoiding the spear attack of the last guard while cutting his throat. No sound had occurred and the paladin realized one of them, probably Teltz, must have used a silence spell. Even his own footsteps were not audible anymore as he moved closer to them. 

Lerrim, covered in blood although the illusion somewhat masked it, tore the door to the left room at the end of the hallway open and stormed in, Teltz right behind. Barely avoiding a curse, the dwarf followed suit. He almost bumped into the bard, who had stopped suddenly. The paladin poked his head around the tall man's hip and saw what had brought the others to a sudden stop. 

A huge four-poster bed covered in thick blankets and feather pillows dominated the eastern half of this palatial sleeping chamber. A thick rug of crimson and gold with ravens in flight running along its  tasseled edges covered the  floor in the center of the room. A massive  fireplace of gold-flecked black  marble protruded  from the northern wall, banked coals perfectly warming the chamber. Paintings depicting various members of the Vendikon family adorned the walls between narrow, wood-shuttered arrow-slits. A narrow table along the southeast wall held additional blankets and a hooded lantern.

The bed was well used, but the baron was not in it. "What now?" Teltz mouthed, the silence spell still being in effect. None of them had considered the fact that, despite the winter sun coming up late, the baron might be up at dawn already. Teltz quickly checked the bathroom and dresser. The bath had been recently used, which meant the accursed man was indeed already up.

Bjön took charge and pointed back to the door. If the baron was up, a servant might come up any time, and the last thing they needed was the alarm raised. The others nodded and followed him out. Not knowing where else to search, the paladin walked to the opposite door. He bashed it open, axe at the ready. There was still no sound as they entered. A large, U-shaped table filled most of the space of this carpeted room. Eight upholstered, high-backed chairs surrounded the table, while a ninth, which looked more like a throne, sat at the center of the southern end. Tall, narrow windows of stained glass were flanked by thick burgundy curtains with golden crows stitched into them. But the room was empty, not even a servant was stirring. 

Lerrim shrugged and pointed to the hallway again, and the paladin nodded. But the next room down the hall proved to be another disappointment. A long preparation table dominated the center of this obviously private kitchen. Pots and pans and other cooking implements hung from a rack suspended over it. A hearth along the southern wall glowed with banked coals. A long shelf and cabinet combination full of food, seasoning, and crockery completely covered the west wall. Two female servants were about, cleaning up the floor and table. One of them looked up and tried to cry out an alarm, but the silence still centered on Teltz didn't allow her to cause a fuzz. A moment later, the two women fell down asleep. Bjön wondered how many more of those sleep spells the bard could produce as he tied them up. Once more, they turned to leave as he was done.

It looked like they would have to comb through the whole keep for the fiend friend, and there would likely be more bloodshed than they had even seen in the golden city. It was going to be an interesting day, and likely in the negative way.


----------



## Lwaxy (Mar 22, 2012)

This afternoon, the group in the baron's keep finally managed to play again (the others are much further along so it was about time). The below battle took up the whole session but was worth it. I just hope I managed to do it justice as it was one of the best scenes we had yet and I am not that good at writing battles. 


---------------------------------------------------------

Never entered into the diary, but later told the rest of the group in quieter times:


"The horror of the scenery was unbelievable. Not due to the amount of death occurring or even the gore on the floor and the abandoned weapons lying around, mostly used. It was not the image of the guard captain standing over the fallen gnome or the tapestries on the wall depicting devils tearing each other apart with both spears and claws, or the fact that the light of the swinging chandelier overhead made them appear almost alive. Well, the latter had probably to do with it. But what made it all so terrible was the total, utter silence. The whole fight had been without any sound, the screams of agony and fear which must have originated in the throats of the dying were just never heard. There was no sound when a body dropped to the floor. The battle cries of attackers and defenders could only be imagined as they charged, eyes and mouth open, towards each other. By now, there was only the guard captain left, and he was now turning his attention away from the gnome and coming right towards me. 

There is something to be said about attacking your enemy under any sort of silence magic. If you are quick, you can be done with it all and no one would be the wiser unless they happened to see you. Unfortunately, if you can't really surprise them, or they outnumber you – or both – then being unable to warn your friends or be warned is also a disadvantage. This was why I was on the floor with my back to the upturned table and a large gash at my left tight where my lifeblood was forming a puddle under me. The gnome, swinging from the chandelier at the time, had not been able to warn me. One of the Chelaxian bodyguards of the baron we were there to kill had been right behind me, and while he had forgotten that my smaller size meant he would have to guard lower and thus now added his blood to mine in his demise, he had still managed to render my left leg useless. 

We had taken the wrong doors out of the two options left to us on the baron's keep's first floor. Instead of the library, where he had been eating breakfast, we had walked right into the guardroom where the guard captain was handing out daily assignments to a good sized group of guards we never managed to count. They fell silent in the middle of their business as the spell's area of affect hit them, too. And that was what saved us right then and there, because Lerrim's crossbow and a throwing dagger from Teltz and, of course, my small throwing axe killed 3 of them right away. But that was the only advantage we had before they started swarming all over us. 

We still did well enough, as most of the guards didn't have all their weapons yet or were even all in their armor already. Lerrim was, to my surprise, quite good with a short sword. As most of them were evil, Desna helped me, too – luckily, thanks to my training, I do not need to call out aloud to invoke the benefits of her magnificent power. No, our luck turned when Teltz stumbled out of the door to avoid being slashed in two by the guard's captain. It brought him close to the door of the library. The area of effect of the silence on him spread to that room and its inhabitants. And despite a library being supposed to be silent, if you are silenced in the middle of your conversation with your bodyguards, you tend to notice. So all of a sudden, we also had the baron, his hellhounds and his Chelish lackeys to deal with. 

The baron, so we knew, was a spellcaster, but he was useless in that regard thanks to not being able to talk. But the spell would wink out any minute, so Lerrim decided to do something about it first. Never mind the guard he had just somehow managed to down had given him a bad limb, which meant he was a lot slower than he would have usually been. His hate for anything devilish, especially this baron who was about to betray his own people, was too deep to care. Lacking any other weapon, with the last remaining knife he had still sticking out of the guard's throat, he resorted to taking the crossbow hanging his neck – that was his idea of having his hands free when needed – and banged it into the baron's knee. I remember the 'you can't be serious' look on the baron's face as he kicked Lerrim against the opposite wall. 

I had no idea what the bard had done to suddenly change into a fire elemental form. I have since learned of his tattoos and the immense powers they hold. But back then, I was very much shocked. So was, good thing, the baron and his two guards. Teltz started on the baron, who had the bright idea to back off into the guard room while I was sparring with the captain of the guard, a human of great skill. I dare say he was better trained and more experienced than me, and he was just being careful because he feared the power of Desna. Invoking the divine had already left him injured, and he could not know the extend of my divine connection. 

Behind me, there was a greenish light and the hellhounds yowled. I had no idea then what happened to them but they were gone.  

Back in the guard room, Teltz jumped at the bodyguard pushing himself in front of the baron. I could not see the other one. Somehow Lerrim had managed to climb on the chandelier despite bleeding from a head wound where he had hit the wall. From up there, he pelted the baron with crossbow bolts but most did not go through the magical protection the traitor had already active. Teltz set the bodyguard on fire just when I managed to drive the captain against the table, knocking it over in the process. There was still no sound, mind you, the burning bodyguard walked around screaming in silence while the smell of burning flesh poisoned the air. I really wished I could put him out of his misery, but a crossbow bolt from Lerrim did the job. The gnome had the decency to forget his main goal for a moment to end the poor soul's suffering. Although I suppose, he is now suffering far worse in hell. 

Unfortunately, that was almost his undoing as Vendikon jumped up and clung to the chandelier with a silent shout, swinging it so hard that the gnome fell off, right on top of the burning corpse of the bodyguard. As he rolled off, I barely avoided losing an ear to the captain's sword. Teltz turned towards me but him being all fire himself I could not get his meaning. That was when the other bodyguard, who had come to after having been sleep powdered by the gnome earlier as we later found out, ran my leg through before I managed to do a lucky hit and kill him. The baron dropped, boots first, on Teltz's head and rendered him unconscious. This made the bard turn back into his normal form. It also brought the traitor right to where Lerrim was. 

Through the onset of pain after the first shock, I saw the little fellow take a crossbow bolt – just the bolt – and jump at the baron. He stabbed him where it hurt a man most, and as the traitor went down I swear, this gnome thief tore him apart with hands and teeth. That was when the sound came back. The baron's cries lasted only a second though, as his voice drowned in his own blood. I will never forget that sound. 

Seeing me incapacitated, the captain rushed over to save the baron. While he was too late, it did not help Lerrim who, all covered in blood and probably half insane of hate, was still crunched over his kill. The captain's sword ran him right through from his right shoulder to his right shin. The human actually flung him off his sword against the door, then went over to make sure he was dead. 

So now he was coming towards me.  I took me a moment to remember I could heal myself up. My hand over my own wound, I called on Desna once more. It did not heal me up all the way and I had lost some blood, but my leg was finally functioning again. I pushed myself up to meet the man's sword. Truthfully, I would probably have lost that fight, as the captain had the desperation of a man with no other option in his eyes and by now I was exhausted. I had been up all night, whereas the human had just started his day, had obviously had time to down a healing potion seeing how his injuries had gone away and most of all, had the hopes of reinforcements arriving anytime soon thanks to the noise we now made. 

That was when a beam of a sickening green hit the man. There was an eerie flash and he seemed to burn from inside out. I could see his organs and then his skeleton as he dissolved into nothing, his face an expression of confusion, shock and finally realization. His sword clung to the ground as his grip loosened before he disappeared. 

Lerrim's blood smeared face stared at me with a terrifying grin of both triumph and pain. Then the hand with the magic ring he had used dropped again, and his eyes went blank. I knew death when I saw it, but next to the sorrow I felt about losing out newest companion, I also had the feeling that, for reasons unknown to me, death was rather a relief for him. I never found out his story or what exactly he had been running from. But we always knew he was a troubled soul from the moment we decided to take him with us and then not lock him up for the theft he had done. I hope he found his peace. As I went to confirm he was dead despite of already knowing, I saw the burned out ring on his hand and realized he had saved me from the hellhounds before. I felt ashamed for not really trusting him. 

I limped over to Teltz, expecting to see more guards come through the door at any moment. I laid hands on him and could feel the divine power restoring his vitality, but he was still well out, and that left me with a serious problem. The keep would not stop fighting just because the baron was dead, at least not that I would risk it. Our plan had relied on the bard song-porting us out of here back to the temple, but that was out of the question now. I could not carry him either way. Not knowing what else to do, I searched the barons body. Some scrolls and items and a spellbook later I still had no idea. I was unable to use any of the arcane scrolls and items, or even know what they did. 

I managed to drag the bard through a door in the back of the guard room. A  pair  of  bronze  gargoyles with spiral horns and heavy protruding lower jaws squatted atop large marble plinths in alcoves in the southeast and southwest corners. For a moment, I feared they would come alive.Two doors in the north wall exited the wide chamber, the eastern one we had just come through. Two short staircases ascended to a landing where a single staircase between them continued to the next level. Narrow windows on the staircase looked look out onto the bailey below. I was looking for something to bolt the door with when it occurred to me it would be better to drag the torn apart body of the baron in here, too. If they knew the baron was dead there was no telling what they might do. 

I heard shouting and footsteps on the other side, but had nothing to block the door with save the baron, so I used his body. I felt nauseated doing that, and it wasn't a very effective barrier either. But to my luck, no one came charging in. I heard shouts to find the baron and wails of panic, but that was it. A few minutes into the chaos, Teltz woke up. He needed a bit to shake off his confusion so I helped him up the stairs into what seemed to be an opulent ballroom or meeting room. It had wonderful panoramas on the walls but we didn't really care. Teltz regained his wits and performed the teleport song as soon as he could, only nodding when I told him of the gnome's fate. 

We reappeared in an almost empty temple. The chaos in the keep seemed to spread quickly through the city. We heard a servant telling everyone outside – and there were lots of people outside despite the heavy snowfall – that something had invaded the keep and killed the devil followers. I peeked outside and heard the sound of fighting, saw the mob with pitchforks and other makeshift weapons go up to the keep to reclaim their land from the 'devil folks' – probably hoping to kill the baron himself. Well, they had to be disappointed there. 

We cleaned ourselves up ignoring the ongoings. The people would know it had been us once they found Lerrim – lest they think the gnome had done it all by himself. Likely, we would not have much chance to rest for a while after they knew, so we tried to catch as much sleep as we could, although it was hunted by nightmares. "


----------



## Lwaxy (Mar 27, 2012)

Thanks to eye and joint issues, I'm slow typing at the moment. I hope the story won't run away from me - but then we have extensive notes this time around.  

As usual, we made some minor story relevant changes to the adventure, mainly for season and that it makes no sense for creatures to "fight to the death" all the time, or to fight at all. I also wanted the pact with the worg and his pack to happen so I'm glad that for once, they didn't have other ideas there. 

The change in destination was the idea of Mook's player, who used one of the karma points I hand out to make it happen (after discussing it with me beforehand of course, needs to make sense with where the adventures are). 


-----------------------------------------------


Getting the moss fro the elder tree had been no problem, despite making the gruesome discovery of dead bodies tied in the branches. They had found the cause to be a tatzelwyrm, but some substance Edawon had thrown, reluctantly as the half-orc had thought, had caused the thing to run. 

Now it was midmorning. After a rather difficult path up and down a densely overgrown hill, the two snow covered travelers arrived at the next point indicated on their makeshift map. The sounds of the forest became suddenly distant as the trees part, opening into a small, almost perfectly circular glade.  The  nearest stands of pine, eyln, and darkwood - all typically  sturdy  woods - twisted away from the clearing, as if bent by some impossibly strong wind or seemingly in an attempt to flee despite their paralyzed roots. At the glade’s center squatted an ugly cottage, little more than a pile of twigs, shoots, and ivy stacked upon mud  walls. From the thatched roof dangled bundles of gnarled roots, old dried beast carcasses, and knucklebone bangles, all clattering together like gruesome wind chimes. A dozen small thatched  fetishes, each shaped like a tiny man, imp, or rearing serpent, stood propped in the yard, keeping guard before a rickety plank door.

"Sure looks inviting," Majek mumbled. The fox, lugged in Edawon's backpack, agreed with a whimpering sound. 

"There hasn't anyone been here for a while," Edawon said, pointing at the rotten door. "Something must have happened to the witch."

"Meh... think we can still find what we are looking for?" Majek passed by the various figures, not feeling threatened by them. 

"Probably. Rat's tail is valuable for years if preserved right, and this place looks as if the former inhabitant had the habit of preserving all sorts of things."

"Hope you are right." With little difficulty, Majek pushed the rotten door aside. Inside, the cottage was dank, reeking, and filled with shadows. Haphazardly hung shelves lined the walls, covered in all manner of clay  jugs, clouded bottles, strangely cut rocks, rotted bunches of herbs, and a museum of other crude curios and remnants of a bone grinder’s artifice. A rusted iron cauldron, with a wide mouth wide and deep enough for a small person to crawl inside dominated the hut’s single room, its ash-covered surface shaped  with a relief of capering fiends and leering devils.

By luck or magic, no weather seemed to have affected the inside of the place but the alchemist saw something rather disturbing. Across from the door, against the far walls, stands a high-backed chair made of wicker, the gigantic curved tusks of some monstrous beast, and thousands of human teeth.  In the chair was what looks like a corpse wrapped in filthy burial linens, its form padded with pungent herbs and sprouting patches of thick white mold. "I am not sure I want to have anything to do with this place," the half-orc stated and took a step back. "There is definitely some dark magic involved, even if the corpse does not look real. Just look at the chair."

"Corpse?" The halfling pushed into the room, passing his companion. "Yeah that's a fake. Probably put here to make possible visitors think someone was home. Weird enough. And I agree about the chair." Careful not to touch anything, the ranger looked around the place. After several minutes of squinting and sniffing, he finally pointed to a peg at the wall close to the door. "There. Lots of rat's tail, and it still smells like, well, rat's tail. Means it still has the essentials to be used."

"Great. I guess it would have been more difficult to get that while the witch was still here." The half-orc could barely reach the peg without anything to stand on but he managed without having to use any of the benches standing around. The less they touched, the better. "Now let's go." 

As he was about to stow away the rat's tail, the cauldron they had not paid much attention to suddenly came alive with a loud clatter and hurled itself at Majek. With a shriek not sounding like a half-orc at all, Majek rushed out of the hut and across the weird yard, back up the hill they had come down from. He almost lost the rat's tail in the process. He scolded himself as he brushed snow out of his hair, having fallen into a bush. He had been to the golden city and he had seen worse things. Maybe it had been the presence of black magic affecting him, or maybe it was the whole location so far off from any civilization. 

Hest followed more slowly. "It didn't bother me. Looks like a guardian only attacking who disturbs the place."

"Yeah. That's just great. Whatever. Let's get going." Majek finished dusting himself off and placing the rat's tail safely in his pouch. "I have a feeling it will be worse at this monastery. Who knows, maybe we will be dealing with ghosts or some such. You know, of we keep doing this, we really should find a cleric to join us. Maybe a priest of Iomedae. Or, at least, we should wait until our undead fighting paladin is with us again." 

"We haven't seen any ghosts yet," Edawon frowned. "I'm frankly more worried about wolves and other unfriendly creatures." 

"Yeah," the alchemist sighed. "That, too." 

They arrived at the ruined monastery shortly after midday. The sun was bright, and there was no new snow in sight. To Edawon, that was a good thing because when they neared the old buildings, he could check for any trails with little difficulty. Sitting squat at the foot of an imposing mountain, the ruins stood between ancient gnarled trees. Made of simple stone blocks, worn smooth with the passage of time, the stout building was falling apart. Sections of the slanted shale roof had collapsed and portions of the outer wall had crumbled. Small bare twigs striving to once be big trees and wild thorn plants brown from cold and covered heavily in snow ran rampant across the field leading up to the place, leaving only the slightest indication of a path that ended at the ruined front doors. Beyond, a  messy yard yard waited in shadow. Before entering the yard, the path passed between a pair of old stone statues. While one of them was little more than rubble, the other was relatively intact. The 5-foot-tall statue looked incredibly worn but it could still be made out as a dwarf holding aloft a great stone hammer. Moss and creeper vines would likely cover most of its surface in warmer days, but as the leaves had all gone,  Edawon removed a thin sheet of snow around the base to uncover an old dwarven inscription that read “All praise”  and something scratched away, as if to defile the original purpose of the place. A crow cawed somewhere to warn the world of their approach.

"You know," Majek mused, "how in the old stories a name made unreadable usually means something very sinister is at work?"

The ranger nodded and moved on. "It usually is in the real world, too." It sounded like he had experience with this sort of thing, which did not help to ease the nervousness the half-orc was beginning to show. 

Tall grasses and chunks of stone debris had all 
but overtaken the small yard. The now dead patches of grass and the debris was covered in knee hight snow at places where the wind had made drifts, but was only ankle deep in most areas, but the ground was hard to see and very uneven. Off to one side, a wooden stable had collapsed into a mound of rotting timbers and moldy straw. The outer wall on the east side had also collapsed, leaving a ragged hole. Three doors exit into this yard, a pair of double doors to the east, a single door to the north, and a lone door leading into the squat tower in the southeast corner. A trail of hoofsteps led to the tower. 

Majek looked up and around at the snow covered walls.The wet snow had stuck to the surface in some places and falling off in others, making it impossible to see if there were any more inscriptions or maybe pictures. Not paying enough attention to the ground, the alchemist suddenly bumped into something and nearly lost his balance. He found himself in the northwest corner of the small yard and what he had bumped into was an old well almost completely snowed in. A frozen rope went down to equally frozen water. Majek shook his head and resolved to be more attentive. Sure, in the stories, it was often the case a foe would attack from above where no one looked, but it wouldn't help to look up to be killed by falling into a frozen well. For some reason, the thought made him chuckle. "Can we even find those mushrooms in the snow?" he wondered aloud. 

"Yeah, they mostly grow in buildings and usually dry up in winter. They are even better dry. But we won't check out this tower," the ranger pointed to where the hoofprints lead. "The buck went in and did not come out. That's not a good thing and gives us reason to give it a wide berth."

"How do you know that's a buck? Couldn't it be a female?" Carefully, the half-orc made it to the stable and looked inside. Asides from a few bones looking to be from a donkey or pony, he could not see anything. 

"A female would have a wider hip," the ranger simply said as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. Majek wanted to inquire on that, but then he found the wolf prints. He pointed to them. "Maybe the wolves got him then?"

"No, there are no wolf prints going into the tower. My guess is someone made a lair there. Let's check everything but," Edawon grinned. "As for the wolves, they have a bad reputation but are usually fine with leaving people alone unless they are very hungry, and there is enough prey around here."

"What if they are led by a larger wolf? A dire wolf of sorts?" Majek pointed to a set of larger prints. 

"Well, that could be a problem," the halfling agreed. "But we are not alone here in any case. There is at least one kobold about, and the way it hopped around over here he was not happy with the weather." Edawon followed the prints to the door in the west. "Maybe an outcast of the kobolds Kronk needs help with."

"Or a sentinel," the alchimist thought. Something tickled his nose and he looked up again. A light snow had started to fall. "We might want to catch it in any case, just so we won't have to deal with a whole lot of them."

"Yeah, or be quick and avoid it." Edawon pushed the slightly open doors wider and peered inside. Beyond the double doors was a small dark hall. Littered with mounds of debris and a year’s worth of dead leaves and trails of several weeks of snow, it was clear that a narrow path wound inside. The room ahead had no doors anymore. The opening led into the former sanctum. Pews of darkwood were tipped over and covered in dust on either side of this ancient shrine. At the far end stood a large ceremonial anvil, but its surface was defaced and ruined. The halfling shook his head as he could see no mushrooms around. 

The half-orc moved north, following the faint wolf tracks in the corridor. They led to a large, damaged chamber. Gaping holes in the roof allowed faint light and snow to enter. One of the stone columns  that once supported the ceiling was toppled, its broken pieces littering the floor. A thick patch of black, dried mushrooms was hiding in a nearby corner, giving the room an earthy scent that was barely noticeable above the stench of wet fur. "I think I found what we need... but the wolves, too, I reckon," Majek called back.

Edawon joined him just when a large, grey, wolf-like beast jumped up from behind the ruined column, baring its teeth and growling like mad. "That's not a dire wolf, that's a worg," the ranger said drily. "Good day to you, master worg. We have no intention to fight you or the pack you have acquired. We only need some of the mushrooms over there."

"They are mine," the worg replied in a growling voice which was hard to understand. Majek was shocked about it at first, but then remembered worgs had magic in them and were no ordinary animals. 

"Of course, but wolves and worgs have little need for them now, do they? Maybe we can pay you though? Hunt for you so you can rest tonight?" 

"Do I look like I can't hunt myself? We enjoy the hunt, we live for the hunt. Maybe you would make good prey?" The eyes of the worg seemed to glow. 

"We certainly don't make good prey," Majek said casually and showed his hammer and short sword. "We've dealt with an undead old dragon not too long ago, you are really not comparable to that." Nothing of it was a lie, as he didn't know if the beast could sense lies, but of course it was a bit of bending the truth. 

"So you did?" The worg seemed to chuckle. "In that case, you may be able to be of use after all. Let's make a deal, then. Here's the problem..."

When they left with the mushrooms about an hour later, they had made an unbreakable pact with the help of what looked like an item looted from the hut of the long gone witch. They had made it for their whole group, too – for their pack to aid the worg's pack – and they fully intended to honor it after having heard the details. Both hoped the others would see it the same way. 



The caravan in the south was stopping at a frozen creek about the same time. A few rocks, some low hills and a few evergreen trees stopped the cold winds coming from the north, and the midday meal was rather cheerful. Tiva and Zayel had been exchanging stories, with Mook listening and making a comment here and there. Others were grouped around a larger fire, but the desire of the young folk to talk alone for a bit was respected. 

By now, Tiva knew of Mook's stuttering problem and oracle curses and even that Zayel was not completely of elven blood and knew, in fact, little of his pointed eared fellows, having grown up among humans for the most part. Tiva, so they had learned, hungered for knowledge other than how to summon things and a few spells here and there other magic users would take for granted anyway. That was the other reason why she had run. "You know," she was just explaining, "my helper – and older student at the guild – always said you do not need to be worried if life gives you lemons, as the saying goes. It is when you don't get any lemons you need to find a way to get them yourself."

"Lemons were very rare where I grew up," Zayel said without being specific. He had decided on claiming he was from "the north" somewhere but would nheed to talk to his da first to see what he thought about it. "So I definitely agree that getting thekm is not a bad thing. Mook would probably... Mook?" Only now he noticed that the oracle had been staring into the fire for a few minutes with a strange expression he knew all too well. "Oh in the name of all the good gods, she has a vision." It didn't happen like that all too often, but he had witnessed it a few times, and it always meant some sort of trouble or change of plans or bad news.

"I take it that's not  good thing!" Tiva threw the bare bones of the bird wing she had been eating into the flames and stared at the gnome. "Does it happen a lot?" 

"Nah, but it's always something that changes things, like... oh, there we go!" 

Mook lifted her head and looked at the two of them. "W-we are n-not going north any longer," she declared. "We n-need to go s-south with the caravan." 

"Huh?" Zayel almost dropped his cup. "Why in the name of the gods would we do that? We need to meet up with the others, and they are waiting for us at Falcon's Hollow – or at least, I hope so. We need to help Kronk and all. My da will be looking for me there." 

"I have n-no idea," Mook said simply. "B-but you will be e-expected there b-by an Elf."

"Somewhere in the south an elf is waiting for me? How are we even supposed to find one elf in a large south?" the boy winced. 

"W-where is the c-caravan going again?" Mook asked. 

"Augustana. In fact, we'll turn south where this creek meets the river, to stop in the next town for some business and..."

Mook nodded, as the caravan was very slow with all the stops for their exhibition. "Augustana," she said, looking almost as if she would taste the name. "T-that's where we f-find the elf, then." And with that, she continued eating, not even considering Zayel might want to argue about her sudden decision.


----------



## Lwaxy (Apr 16, 2012)

Kronk was feeling a lot better, and this evening, while sitting in the living room of the house they had been given to stay in after their help with the medicine, he finally tld the rest of the group about the kobolds of this area, and the troubles his tribe had with them. The monk's local Shining Claw tribe, many of them involved in his monastery, was only about 150 heads strong, with many of them busy in other parts of the world on their never ending mission to bring balance – whatever that exactly meant. Kronk's tribe lived in the mountains, while the Truescale kobolds lived underground, under the monastery ruins from the dwarves. 

Their self proclaimed king Merlokrep was greedy, if followed by bad luck if the reports could be believed. The destruction of the halfway house for orphans and the disappearance of several other children  from Falcon's Hollow was attributed to the king and his band, and Kronk knew for sure they abducted a group of ranger trainees from his tribe. The Shining Claw tribe sent a party to deal with the Truescale kobolds, but they had little success due to the kobold king's mad shaman being able to predict when and where they would strike. Kronk also said that the town people were not willing to help, partly because of the Lumber Consortium not wanting to get involved. 

It was when 5 more children from the human town vanished in autumn during a dare to stay at the halfway house ruins that the shaman of the Shining Claw tribe called Kronk into his cave to undergo a ritual he had seen in a vision. Originally, he had been told that this ritual would only have to do with Kronk's birth destiny. Kronk didn't elaborate on it, but from what he said, the visions he got during the ritual had been of the "thief of thieves" and where to find her. And that it would bring help against the minions of Merlokrep. 

Before Kronk left to follow the directions of his vision, a group of Shining Claws examined the halfway house to find proof for the Truescale involvement in the burning and kidnapping. But they only found the decaying body of Elara, the woman who used to run the place. There was more cooperation from the humans now, too, because one of the recently vanished children was the son of an important man in town, but as it was not assumed that any of the children were still alive, they were mourned but not avenged. 

The night before, Kronk had sent a message to his tribe with the help of a trained owl a local wise woman kept, but he had of course not heard back yet. In winter, the Shining Claw kobolds usually retreated deeper into the mountains and would not have seen the message in the usual drop off point. 

"Seeing how it is winter and all, and we have to wait for the others, I suppose we will have a few weeks worth of rest before the Truescales can be tackled," Kronk concluded. 

"Don't know about that." Majek chewed his lower lip and looked worried. "Maybe those children are still alive. We should at least scout out what is under the monastery ruins. I mean, we made it there before, just the two of us."

Zaza, her hair glowing brightly in front of the burning fire place, pointed to the windows with a shake of her head. "In this weather, we'd not make it through the forest." 

Majek followed her pointing and sighed at the rows and rows of  snowflakes coming down. Falcon's hollow had basically been snowed in for the last few days, and although the weather had let up a little, it was still difficult to even walk through town. 

"Maybe we can find someone to teleport us there," Zaza joked as she put up her feet on a footrest. "Or maybe there is an underground tunnel all the way. Or..."

"Oh stop it!" Her brother threw a crumpled paper at her. "It is just so frustrating to sit around, unable to do anything."

"Do the laundry, then." Zaza grinned widely. 

Before the half-orc could respond, Krell spoke up. "There might be a way to get there. But it would take some time to get there, and you may not like the method of transportation."

"Your shadow walk," Majek observed. 

"Yes. Crossing the shadow plane is not a nice experience, not for me either. But since my ancestor had taken possession of me, I have been trying it out and now am fairly certain that I could take all or at least most of you to the monastery."

There was a moment of silence. Kronk was the first to break it. "If you could do that, it would be very much appreciated. At least from my side."

"What could be worse than what we've seen in the golden city?" Majek argued. 

"A lot of things," Edawon immediately corrected him. "You don't really have any idea. But yeah, if we can avoid the wilderness, I'm all for you taking us there." The halfling ranger, too, had been getting restless. 

"Then it is decided. Tmorrow before first light?" Zaza suggested, suddenly all eager as well. 

Krell nodded. "Tomorrow at first light." 




The sights and smells of yet another city were overwhelming for Mook. It might have been her initiative to come here, but being almost alone with only Zayel and their new friend Tiva as real company made her feel small and insignificant. The rest of the caravan around her might have been as distant as her hometown. 

Zayel was also staring at the unfamiliar architecture and fashion of Augustana. There were so many statues and fountains and house decorations – including beasts he had never seen before – and most of the stone work looked to be expensive. It was hard to compare this place with the other towns they had seen before. It was too different, too wealthy and too advanced, for lack of a better description. 

The caravan had made straight for Oldtown the heart of the city, to make camp in one of the large squares, something they did every winter and for which they had a permanent permit. The streets were full of musicians and other performance artists despite the time of year and the almost constant ice cold rain pouring down from above. Snow would come soon, they had been told, but right now the drain was worse than the snow they had had to endure until a few miles north of the city. Madame Velomina, the half-dwarf cook of the caravan, had assured them they would not have to stay in wagons, that a local tavern would have rooms for them all including Mook – who had made herself useful by reading cards at their stops – and Zayel if they wished to stick around. For now, the two of them had agreed. They didn't own that much money as most had been with the others when they had been separated. Vision or not, Mook was unable to tell when and where they would meet this strange elf she kept seeing in her dreams, or what he would want with Zayel. 

"You look lost," Zayel commented. "I thought gnomes liked and even needed new impressions." 

"Yeah b-but... you kn-know, I prefer to c-control when I find n-new things and how." Mook gave him a weak smile. "N-not v-very adventurous, I admit, b-but given that I c-can't c-control much of my so-called Oracle g-gifts, I l-like to be in control of a-about anything else." 

The three-quarter-elf nodded. He had a similar feeling. Several people, his father included, had assured him he was some sort of magical miracle, some sort of protegee of the essence of magic itself, but he didn't feel like it. If anything, he felt like a piece of chess in a game of fate he did not understand. And right now, he felt very alone despite his long time friend next to him. He was missing his father and was beginning to wonder if he would ever see him again. 

The caravan was pulling into the square assigned to them. The news of their arrival had already spread, and a sizable crowd was waiting for them to whip out the exhibition and few sideshows. Tiva emerged from the back of the wagon with a bright smile. "We'll just be in the way until everything is settled, says Madame Velomina. So we are free to explore the city and probably buy a few things." Tiva had some small savings and seemed eager to spend some of them. 

"O-ok," Mook quickly agreed. "I n-need to find some magic c-components." The gnome was not sure if they would have the money for it, but she would like to recharge her anti-curse ring. Tiva knew about her stuttering by now, as did most others. It had been impossible to hide she was an oracle, but it had, after all, brought he some business on the road. 

Tiva nodded in understanding. "I'm sure we can find just what you need. But you better leave the wolf with the caravan. What about you, Zayel?" 

The young man turned to the sight of the buildings and looked into the sky. His familiar was flying high above, and for a moment he could see through the bird's eyes. "Can't hurt to check the place out right away," he agreed. "But once the rooms are settled, I'll need a hot bath." 

"Guess that makes 3 of us," the summoner girl laughed and jumped of the wagon. "Come on, it will be dark soon enough." 

About an hour and a half later, with the sky over the city beginning to darken, the 3 of them had all they needed. Zayel had bought new spell components, and Mook had all the candles, incense and oils needed to recharge her ring. Their money was, however, rather scarce now, and Zayel in particular was worried about that. Tiva took things a lot more easy, but considering that she was just going day by day and was still trying out her freedom, that was no surprise. 

When they arrived back at the square – with losing their way only once – the exhibition was set up for the next day and most of their workers and performers had retreated to the nearby Tree Top Inn. The building was rather small and unremarkable, mostly just frequented by those exhibiting on the square all around the year, and in winter it was a place for yearly travelers and the two regular caravans staying for the winter, including their own exhibition. Mook and Tiva were given a room to share, while Zayel was told to bunk with the majority of men in one large room upstairs. That was fine with Zayel. Their anmal companions got their own space in the large stable next to the inn. The feeble minded but kind groom even promised to bring the wolf fresh meet and have his cat catch mice for the hawk. Zayel doubted that there would be a shortage of doves even in winter, but he liked the idea anyway. 

Upon hearing that Mook was an oracle and reading the cards for people, the innkeeper promised to let people know so she could set up readings in one of the inn's corners. It was bound to attract business which would be good for either party. Mook's mood brightened considerably after that. 

Zayel decided to go to bed early. He felt cold from the walk through the city, despite his good winter clothes. To his pleasant surprise, someone had already placed a hot stone into his bed, so he quickly changed and jumped in. 

Only now he noticed the only other person in the room, an older elf with hair as white as snow who was sitting next to one of the big fire places, perfecting an arrow as it looked like. The stranger didn't look at him but Zayel had the feeling of being watched  For a moment, he felt uncomfortable, but then the warmth of his bed and finally being in a real bed again made him very tired. Before he did, thoughts of those not with them flashed through his mind. His father, his best friend, the sorcerer Brenn who had transformed... was he all back to normal now or did something go wrong? With that memory, he fell into a sleep of wild dreams. 





The snow in the courtyard of the dwarven ruins was knee high in places, and where the wind had blown it against the ruins it could reach up way over halfling size. The group around Krell, who looked somewhat exhausted, watched the openings to the various rooms carefully. But nothing came out except a wolf or two from Graypelt's pack. Graypelt himself was sitting in front of them, patches of his fur stained with frozen blood. He had had to dispatch a werewolf girl a few days ago, he explained. The little bitch, as he called her, had tried to take control of his pack. From what they could understand, she had been in the woods since the halfway house had burned down. Graypelt claimed that, too, had been a werewolf attack to begin with. It seemed somewhat doubtful, but they were not here to bother about a fire that happened a while ago. 

Zaza was pale from the shadowwalk experience and looked like she might faint. Edawon didn't feel that much better but he had experience at hiding feeling that way. The others were less affected, or maybe it was that they had been brought here a bit earlier and so had had more time to recover. The kobold looked more like the cold was affecting him despite wearing warm robes and boots custom made for him. They had offered Kronk more protection, but he had insisted he needed loose fitting clothes to be able to fight if needed. 

Graypelt growled and turned, being done with his werewolf tale. "Showing you the entry to down," he snarled. "But won't come after you." 

The entrance to down proved to be a crumbled set of wide stairs. They had to squeeze through snow covered bushes to be able to carefully make their way down. Edawon and Majek walked up front, while Krell brought up the rear. Edawon, Kronk and Zaza carried torches. Very soon, they could hear what sounded like whispers and moans and hisses, but were more likely echoes of dropping water and wind caught in hallways. 

The stairway eventually opened into a large rectangular chamber. The stone walls of this area were covered with intricate carvings of dwarves toiling in mines or smithies, looking almost alive in the flicker of the torches. In the center of the chamber stood the bottom half of a broken obsidian obelisk. Crude picks, hammers, and other tools were scattered around the chamber. 2 kobolds of a dull brown color, watched over by 4 blue and green ones looking more like warriors or slave drivers were trying to tow away a large piece of the obelisk in the meager shine of a small lamp, having serious troubles to move the thing. 

Kronk pointed to the guards just when they were noticed by the other kobolds. As expected, the workers were quickly hiding behind their piece of obsidian while the others shouted something and advanced on the party. "They say we are intruders and have to die," Kronk translated, sounding somewhat amused. 

"We don't want to hurt them if we can avoid it," Edawon reminded. 

Krell already nodded and started to cast. The warriors suddenly moved as if they were walking through water, their movements slow and uncoordinated. Majek grinned and stepped towards the first of them, removing the strange makeshift axe – not much more than a stick with some sharpened iron nailed onto it. Edawon helped disarming them after the halfling saw that the kobolds were truly helpless. Zaza produced a sturdy rope. "We can tie them up and free them on our way back out." 

"What's with those?" Majek pointed at the cowering workers. 

"Slaves from a mountain tribe, it lookes like." Kronk said something in draconic, and with some hesitation, the two of them got up and answered. Kronk pointed at them. "Slaves from the Mountail Scale tribe. The lighter one is Kibbo, and the darker one is Jarrdeg." 

The two now former slaves bowed. "We speaks yours talk," Kibbo said. "Great Liberators, we's eternally gratefuls."

Zaza chuckled. "Nice to meet you. I'm Zaza, this is my brother... Edawon." She remembered just in time no one needed to know who her real bother was. She introduced the others, too. 

"You know this place, maybe you can help us? We are looking for missing children from the town below the woods." Edawon smiled, trying to appear as unthreatening as possible, noticing their new acquaintances nervousness. 

"Pink skin little ones?" Kibbo nodded eagerly, it looked like hsi head would come off. "Mad king has thems as blood bags for his crown." 

"Ritual they wants do to get rid of bad lucks," Jarrdreg added. "But Jekkajak nots remember ritual. Jekkajak strange in head." Jarrdreg made a spinning motion with his hand. "But then, all the Truescales are bit mads.

"Jekkajak? A wizard?" Krell stepped closer, trying not to appear scary. 

"Shaman, oh great Chief Slow-Walk," Jarrdreg corrected. "But He Who Forgets More Than You Or He Knows not gets his spells correct most of time. King Merlokrap is losing his patiences. Wants to sacrifice pink skin spawns to make bad luck go away-way."

"Bad luck, eh?" Edawon looked at the tied up warriors and nodded. "Let me guess, Merlokrap is not so much liked by his tribe anymore."

"No no, he's not," Kibbo agreed.

"What's this for?" Krell pointed at the obsidian, deciding at the same time to collect some as spell components for his shadow spells. 

"For king's wife-main. “The Only One Allowed to Nag-Nag His Greatness wants black mirros to watch herselfs in," Kibbo explained. "Black stone make reflect stuffs." 

"Ah," Krell nodded. "So no matter how bad off the tribe is, the king's wife still wants more shiny stuff." They were beginning to get a partial idea what the bad luck of the tribe might be rooted in. 

"Shiny good-goods always good-good, Great Liberator Krell" Kibbo shrugged. "Buts when not free and not stuff in growley hole," he pointed to his stomach, "then shiney good-good not so good-good."

Majek scratched his head, getting a bit of a headache from the way the kobolds talked. He was so used to Kronk talking normally he had forgotten the stories of the more known kobold tribes. "Will you come with us and show us around?"

"Yes, we helps, Great Liberator Majek," Kibbo assured. "Have weapons, too!" Proudly, he lifted a sling. 

Majek barely avoided a chuckle. "You should take those... axes the warriors had." 

"Yes, we take!" Even more proud, the two of them hefted two of the axes and a small but well enough balanced spear with a stone tip each. Kibbo also took a bow and arrows. "I can shoot-shoot when there is lights some," he explained. To make sure there would be, he took the small lantern sitting on one of the broken off stones.

"So, where to?" Zaza asked. There were 3 exits from the entrance hall, left, right and straight on. A dull red glow came from the right. 

"That way, old rotten beds where monkses use to sleep," Kibbo said and pointed to the left. "Yous not want go there. Stinks and flattering suckers nest there."

"Flattering suckers?" 

"Stirges," Kronk explained. "What about right?"

"Eww, no-no. Right is hot evil pit of gloom, where the monkses did dark rituals and makes their gods likes them. Hot and smokey and full of burn-burn." 

"So, we go straight, then," Edawon concluded. 

"Yes, Great Liberator Edawon," their new guide nodded. "Buts not into room straight ahead buts left at next cross-cross. Old well room is love nest of to buzz-buzz." 

"Shocker lizards," Kronk explained again. 

"Yes, we definitely want to avoid those," the ranger grinned. "Let's go, then, maybe we can get this over with quickly."

"That was when my mother said when she set out to recover a heirloom," Kronk sighed, but only Zaza heard him and was left to wonder what he meant with that. 



Zayel woke up to the sound of a street vendor shouting his wares. He felt well rested and confident that they could make the best out of their situation. Again, him and that stranger from last night were the only ones in the room, and from the sounds and smells in the inn, Zayel had overslept quite a bit. He stretched and yawned, trying to ignore the elf who was again sitting at the freshly logged fire, sharpening a knife this time. 

"Good morning," the stranger said loudly. "I was already fearing you would sleep through the day. I've been hoping to talk to you last night, but you fell asleep like a can on the fireplace."

Somewhat irritated, Zayel turned towards the elf while his mind was going through some spells he might need if this man proved hostile despite his friendly words. His right hand closed around the spell component bag he always had next to him in bed thanks to his father's instructions. "Who are you? And what do you want from me?" 

"Such vigilance! Good thing, though, as we have no need for fools." The elf got up and bowed slightly. "Amaran is my name. And from your reaction, I take it you did not get my message but came here on your own accord." 

"No, I got no message." But the pieces were falling into place as Zayel's mind woke up fully. "But Mook told me an elf would be waiting for me in this city and made us come here. That would be you, I guess." 

"Ah yes, the oracle," the elf nodded. "Indeed, i have been waiting for you. No doubt you are puzzled about it all, but then so where me and some friends when a vision showed us your face and told us where to find you. Well, the vision was slightly off as you had accidentally left the caravan I was searching out."

"Yeah, an unfortunate mishap," Zayel said and grimaced a little remembering his oops. "But, what would you, or your vision, want with me?"

"We need you to help us out with something. And then we may make you the offer of being part of something bigger, something important to us elves as a race." 

"Help you with something," Zayel repeated. Of course, he thought. He had had little hopes that he might have inherited half a kingdom or something and was thus sought to be the new price. He grinned at that idea. "Well, let's hear it, then." 

The other elf made a movement with his hands and whispered a well know spell. Zayel's master had used it often enough to ward off listeners. "Now we can talk without being overheard," Amaran said and sat back down. "How much do you know about the history of your own people?"

Zayel began to realize the man probably thought him a full elf. Maybe that was what the vision had suggested. "Not all that much," he admitted. "Only what the books I got hands on said. Most elves left Golarion for a long time following Starfall, and when they came back they had to fight to get some of their former strongholds and belongings back, resulting in the forming of the elven kingdom."

Amaran nodded. "Have you ever read what became of the elves that stayed?"

"Not much was said about it. Generally, it seems it is assumed they just vanished." 

"Vanished, but not gone. Unfortunately. Some of them are very present right now, and a threat to the area. Will you help me and my partner deal with them?"

Zayel frowned. He was definitely not keen in getting involved in any sort of conflict. Running around with Mook to recover some artifacts and in the process happen to come across an evil group of adventurers was one thing. Knowingly entering a dangerous situation another. His father would probably not approve – but then, they had been asked to help Kronk and agreed, too. He might be in some sort of damp and cold dungeon right now battling kobolds and who knew what. His father was not here, and for all he knew, he had to follow another part of his supposed great destiny his da had hinted at. "We'll help, unless Mook has any objections," he conceded. 

This time, Amaran shook his head. "I'm afraid the gnome is not part of this. It is an elven matter."

The young mage's defiance awoke. "Either we are both part of this, or it is no deal. We're already separated from family and most friends. We are not going to be separated from each other."

The elf blinked and seemed to consider all his options. "Alright, then. But you must both swear not to tell of what we may find."

"I can't talk for her," Zayel made clear. "But for my part, I'm fine with that."




The tunnels of the underground complex were rather well kept. The two slaves told them that the tribe than captured them had insisted on weekly clean ups done by their forced workers. 

As they turned left where the kobolds had indicated, an annoyed screech came from somewhere. Jarrdreg and Kibbo hid behind their 'great liberators' and seemed to become even smaller. "Head-thing with wings," Kibbo explained. 'They hunts in room where the devil-fire is close."

Zaza grunted. "More of those undead heads with wings, whatever they are called. Great. Let's avoid them." The halfling walked faster and pressed ahead of the others to check if she could see any traps. The kobolds had claimed there were none, but she would not just trust some recently met dragon wannabes. 

At the next cross section they went right or they would have doubled back to one of the locations they were trying to avoid. The corridor here was longer than the last one, and it was impossible to see the end of it. But a dim glow suddenly appeared ahead of them and they could hear noise as if from a battle, but there was also someone singing. Zaza squinted, but could not make out anything particular. "More kobolds?" she mused. 

"Sounds like it. Who would they fight down here?" Kronk asked the former slaves. 

"Maybe pink skin sacrifices make a run-run?" Jarrddreg guessed. "Grown up pink skins probably helps them."

"What grown ups? There are other prisoners? Why didn't you tell us before?" Edawon growled. He began walking faster and drew his sword. Majek and Kronk followed him quickly. 

"You not asked," Jarrdreg shrugged and got his weapons ready, too. "We readies for fights." 

Zaza rolled her eyes and looked to Krell, who nodded and got his spell components ready. Then the two of them followed the others with Kibbo valiantly guarding their backs, arrow knocked on the looted bow. 

The meager light in what looked to have been the mess room once came from a fat halfling, more correctly his dancing lights, who stoop onto a table warding off a group off kobolds with a broken lute while trying to aid a girl with a club. He was singing in a full baritone voice. 

Gold is for the daring
Silver for their aids
Copper for the henchmen 
Helping with the raids
Fine, screeches the raven
Sitting in his den
But iron, cold iron
Is master of all men

Hammers on the anvil
Steel forged for the blade
Axes to the enemies
Plying the grim trade
Truth, says the warrior
grinning at the brawl
But iron, cold iron
Is master of them all​
There must have been magic in that song, because while the kobolds hesitated, the half-elf girl clad in sturdy clothes standing next to the bard and the new arrivals at the scene suddenly felt stronger and more hopeful, despite there being way more kobolds in the room than each of them cared to meet in a lifetime. Majek and Kronk jumped right into the fray and the two other kobolds used bow and axe respectively. Krell prepared a spell while Edawon aimed his crossbow and dispatched a kobold trying to get around the two to where two more children tried to take cover behind a bunch of toppled old chairs. 

Bread for our bellies
Ale for our cups
And the leftovers
For the wolfhound pups
Yes, laughs the halfling
Speaking while he drinks
But iron,cold iron 
Is master of all things​
Kronk was skillfully avoiding being stabbed or sliced open while his flurry of fists hit this opponent or that. Majek's hammer rotated and kept most of the dragon kin at bay. Zaza tried to place a knife in the back of what looked like one of the kobold leaders who had some sort of a whip to prevent him hitting her real brother eventually, but she missed in all the chaos. Two kobolds seemed to freeze and toppled over as Krell let loose a spell. 

Torches to the buildings
Fields put to the flame
Death to the weaklings 
fleeing at our name
Yeah, right, grunts the orc
looking at the pyre
But iron, cold iron
Is better yet that fire​
The obvious bard threw the remains of the lute in the face of an advancing kobold just as Majek ducked the whip and stumbled over a prone kobold. Edawon was knocked over by an arrow burying in his shoulder just as he tried to climb on one of the other stone tables. Zaza tired to get another knife into the same guy as before and succeeded this time, but it only struck the blue kobold's left leg. An arrow flew by her from their ally and stuck the same kobold in the chest, but the blue guy's armor was obviously stopping it without much, if any, damage. A bunch of kobolds dropped from a sleep spell. 

Pitch for the defenders
Archers to their places
Hail to the dwarven knights
Fighting with their maces
Well, says the guardsman
standing on the wall
Iron, cold iron 
is master of them all​

"Take this!" The half-orc had lost all patience and, while waving Kronk back, drew a small vial and trew it at more kobolds coming out of another hallway. A greenish gas spread, making their foes cough and bend. It stung in their own noses so they moved back, but thus got mixed up more with the kobolds not affected. The girl with the club used this chance to bonk another one on the head. 

Feathers for the arrows
Strings for our bows
Peace for our fallen
Death to our foes
Oh, says the elf priest
Blood all on his hem
But iron, cold iron
Is master of all of them.​
Slowly, the rows of kobolds started to lighten up. Some where fleeing despite their two obvious leaders trying to call them back. Krell let lose another sleep spell catching a bunch of those trying to flee. The bard was almost pushed off the table as he ducked a spear stab.

Shoes for the horses
Swords to your side
Men at the ready
Time for us to ride
Charge, cries the horsemen
Riding out into the plain
And iron, cold iron
was master yet again​

Finally, both their leaders wounded, all of the kobolds ran like there was no tomorrow. Jarrdreg and Kibbo let out victory howls that sounded like wounded dragons. Edawon got himself up from under the table where he had been stuck since he had tumbled down from it. The arrow was still in his shoulder. Kronk had a nasty gash on his left leg and Jarrdreg's head was showing signs of a forming bump. Other than that, they were fine. Kronk went over to Edawon and examined him while Zaza turned to the exhausted bard and the children. 

"I don't know who you are," she smiled at the other halfling. "But you are a hero with a lovely voice. This girl, though, from the description we got, and the other two you have with you, match the descriptions of Kimi Eavewalker, Savram Vade and Mikra Jabbs."

"Mikra," said the largest kid. "That's me!" He smiled an unsure smile showing he was not of much intelligence, just as it had been described. 

"Where are the other two? We wanted to find all of you." Majek looked at them worriedly. Zaza knew that her half-orc brother had a knack to know if an endeavor would be hopeless or not, so when he had insisted on searching for them during winter while everyone thought them dead, it had been likely some of them still lived. But to expect all of them to be alive was too optimistic even after what their new kobold friends said. 

"Hollin and Tyran got hit by those savage's poison blades and got paralized," the girl spoke up. "We need to get back to save them!" 

"Yes, yes, but first of all, thank you." The fat bard sat down on the table, breathing heavily. "I'm Edgrin Galesong, and Tyran is my half-elf friend from the party we came here with. All the others died."

Once more, Zaza introduced them. Edawon shouted out in pain as Kronk removed the arrow just as the halfling girl got to the two of them. She grinned, trying to play over her confusion. "So, you escaped them and they caught up to you?"

"Yeah, we took a wrong turn or two. Ended up in some smoky tunnels looking like a mine. Came out into a forge room, guess the chimney could use some cleaning. Met a hellhound there we could barely dispose off." Taking deep breaths, the man slowly calmed his beating heart down. "Some... thing... took Jurin and we barely escaped, having no weapons anymore."

The companions looked at each other. Then they looked at Majek. The half-orc hesitated. "I think he's still alive," he then said. "But of course i can't be sure. Just a gut feeling."

"Let's go rescue him then," Kimi shouted. "What are we waiting for?"


----------



## Lwaxy (Apr 23, 2012)

They had made their way out of the former mess hall and had gone right, ignoring the burial chambers ahead of them. The bard had explained they had cleaned out the area before but their priest had assured them the undead would rise again, so there was little point to bother. They also ignore the former slaughter room, where they were told the unlucky group of adventurers had disposed off some dwarf ghouls. Zaza shivered at the thought. Now they were standing at the closed double doors of what the bard had guessed was a praying room of sorts, but he had just run past with the kids without giving it much thought. 

There were voices on the other side, speaking in draconic. Kronk had his ear pressed to the small opening between the doors and listened in to the seemingly upset kobolds on the other side. "They are unhappy with their unlucky king," the monk whispered. "I can hear at least 4 people, maybe more. One of them is preaching about how they keep dying off and their stupid king does nothing but putting them into more danger by capturing pink-skins and trusting an insane old shaman."

"Maybe we just need to wait and they finish themselves off?" Zaza suggested. 

Jarrdreg shook his head violently. "Nono, Great Arrow-Stab Zaza. Only few go tsk-tsk at king. King still greats power, much shiney-shiney. And wives. Wives all go crazy crazy over him as long as he has them haves shiney. You not likes king, you goes in pot for big stew-stew."

Kibbo agreed. "If we's to kick king in butts, we's best off to stir up slaves and makes the king haters comes with us, Great Liberator." 

"Now, there is a thought," the half-orc nodded.

"Maybe Kronk should claim to be our leader and have come to liberate the Truescales from their dumb king?" Zaza suggested. "I know your tribes haven't gotten along that well but you could always blame it on their leader."

"Yeah, good idea," Edawon agreed. "Make it sound like all the pink-skins know it is just their king that is the problem. And that shaman, whatever his name was again. Maybe say your tribe's spies know all about the situation and you've been watching them."

Kronk seemed to smirk, although it was hard to tell with kobolds. "I like that. Alright." Without wasting more time, he pushed the door open and began addressing the 6 assembled kobolds, a bunch of green and brown ones and a blue leader, in draconic. 

It became clear very quickly that the small group of wannabe rebels was all too happy about the assistance. The blue guy – a weird one with an overgrown ear with lots of humanoid finger bones dangling from it – seemed happy enough to leave the main leadership to the strange yellow kobold. He talked very quickly, introducing the others but no one really got their names in all the fast draconic babble. 

"This is Kerrdremak, but we might call him Kerr," Kronk finally introduced the blue guy in common. "He's a mystic of the tribe and not at all happy with their so-called king causing the decay of their tribe." 

"Hello, Kerr," the half-orc nodded. "Nice to meet you. Cool earrings." He smiled a toothy smile, to indicate no one would go mad at him for having taken trophies from former victories.

Noting the alchemist's fangs, the kobold grinned back. "Would have taken teeth but most humanoid's teeth are soo tiny and not pretty-pretty. Yes, I speak language of above-folk better than others down here. I been there before." 

"Yeah you speak our language very well," Zaza assured him. "But of course you must be clever to realize your leader is leading you only to ruin."

The blue kobold fell for the obvious compliment. "Since he's been leading, we lost more than half our number. It's not only a bad sign, it is the middle of the cat-as-trophee," Kerr nodded. He had trouble with the last word, making Krell and Zaza grin. "We all die if we not stop him." 

"And we will," Kronk nodded. "Our tribes may not always get along well, but you are our dragonkin brothers, and if you perish there will be too many pink-skins and not enough of us. Not good for balance." The monk was so convincing saying that, it made Zaza frown for a second. 

At the mention of dragonkin, the mystic stood up taller. "Yes. What happen to guards for slaves? You free them, is fine for me. Them yours now. But the guards were friends."

"They are alive, back there, bound and as safe as you can be in a dungeon," Edawon assured, rubbing his shoulder which was still hurting. 

"Oh, not so safe down here. Many rats." He turned to the 5 others and hissed at them. "They go bring them. They will be with us if I talk sense to them." 

The half-elf girl was getting restless. "We need to hurry to help Jurin," she reminded the others. "Our friend," she explained to the kobold. "something took him in the forge." 

The kobold seemed to pale. "Bad thing, bad thing that. Leftover from dwarf time. Undead thing steels your souls to make chain." 

"Undead, huh?" The half-orc's hand closed around the holy water he had taken with him, heeding the words of their paladin friend before they had parted. "We can deal with that." 

"We go when your group is back with the guards," Kronk decided. "Can't waste much more time." 



Zayel looked apologetically at Mook while he had one eye on the door of the girl's room to see if their new friends would come back. He had no intention of involving the summoner into this. "I really don't know more than what we've both been told," he assured the gnome. "There is a group of elves after the legendary drow, who really exist, and they want me to be part of it and help their only present member to dispose of them. You know how it is with prophecies, you make them yourselves every now and then."

Mook looked a bit sad, and accusatory, and resigned at the same time. "S-so, those l-legends are r-real, and we've b-been told they a-are all bad. How c-can a race be all b-bad? Not even g-goblins are all bad, d-despite the w-way they were created. It's n-not possible, by the g-gods. And yet..." She chewed her lip.

"What? You don't believe Amaran's story?"

"On the contrary, I d-do b-believe... n-no, I kn-know it is true. A-and that's w-what scares me s-so. A whole r-race of e-evil beings? And they d-don't tell anyone th-they are there? E-even act-tively kill the kn-knowledge of them" Nervously, Mook twisted a strand of her hair, which had grown out quite a bit since they had left home. 

The three-quarter-elf thought about this for a moment. "You have a point, but remember, he said there aren't many of them. So they are possibly not that much of a threat if they can get them quick enough." 

"They are many, the drow." Mook's eyes took on the half-blind, milky look they always had when she was relaying the information of one of her gods or the other. "Too many for the Lantern Bearers to deal with." 

"The Lantern Bearers?" Zayel inhaled deeply. "That's the one information Amaran didn't want me to tell you. Their existence, well at least their name, is supposed to be a secret."

"Well, you m-mentioned they exist, knowing their n-name is not that m-much d-different. A-and this must be s-something imp-portant for me t-to be t-told like that." The oracle forced a smile on her lips. "The gods w-want all us to be i-involved, so we w-will all 3 g-go with Amaran."

"All 3?" Zayel frowned in confusion. 

"Of c-course," Mook chuckled. "You h-haven't g-gathered yet that T-Tiva is linked to us n-now?"

Just then, the black haired summoner entered the room with a basket of dried laundry. Zayel had forgotten to keep watch for her. "Did I hear my name?" she smiled. 




A loud crackling sound filled the room. The smoke that poured from it was blistering hot and lit with a strange orange light. A massive forge responsible for the hellish atmosphere took up the entire far  wall of the cavern. Between the forge and the entrance stood a massive anvil, and nearby rested hammers, prongs, and other blacksmithing tools. A faint whimpering sound was almost lost in the roar that came from the forge. The sound of hammer on anvil eachoed through the room. 

"Jurin?" Kimi called out without thinking. "Where are you?" She coughed as more smoke entered her airway, despite the wet scarfs Zaza had suggested they'd use. The scarfs helped only so much, and they were mostly out of water now. 

"Shhh, don't call it's attention too soon," the half-orc, hand with a bottle of holy water raised, whispered. 

Krell was the only one not affected by the smoke; from the looks of it, he was half in the shadow realm right now, with the meager light vanishing even further around him, and tendrils of shadow sneaking out from his form every now and then. He stood next to the alchemist with an expression that was almost a grin. The others knew that he would try to pull the undead thing into the shadow plane, but how exactly, they didn't know, or if it could be even done and if it could, how big a danger this was for Krell.

Suddenly, the sound of the hammering stopped. The light of the lamps the former slaves carried had gone out just a bit before, and the torches seemed to be partially extinguished by the smoke. The hellish fire from the forge was the brightest light source, and against, the mixed group could not see a shadow moving. The blue kobold gave a warning cry. 

The choking odor of smelted steel tinged with burnt hair and flesh sifted across the room on a foul wind, mixed with the acrid smoke. The jangling of heavy chains echoed ominously. A hulking dwarf wrapped in heavy steel links approached. Its face, hands, and body were riddled with glowing hot hooks and half-melted razor wire. Black smoke arose from its smoldering beard, framing its freakishly contorted face in ashy darkness. The tormented  thing hefted a black iron hammer and as it charged the chains draping its form sprung to life like metal serpents.

Zaza growled while Edawon gave a little shriek of surprise. Kibbo let lose an arrow which bounced off the chains without any effect. Jarrdreg was hiding behind Majek, and the other kobolds stayed even more behind. The children were held back by the bard, who had hefted a replacement sword Krell had carried to try and protect them. The half-elf girl was not happy about being restrained, but with her club she would stand no chance whatsoever. Majek hesitated, waiting for the undead to come closer. While he was really good at throwing things, he wanted to be sure he would get the full effect of the holy water. Kronk stayed at the back, being sickened by the smoke more than anyone else and not effective against an undead like this with his martial arts skills. 

"Can't you sing again?" Kimi asked the halfling bard. 

"My voice is still tired from before," he answered regretfully. "Asides, undead are not swayed by music."

One of the chains attempted to wrap around Edawon's ankle as the ranger landed an ineffective bolt in it's hand. The halfling sidestepped it at the last moment. "Now would be a good time," he hissed at the half-orc.

Th hammer of the dwarven hulk came down at Edawon, leaving its hideous face open to attack. Majek launched the first bottle, and it broke right at the hulk's nose. The alchemist was relieved; hitting the chains wrapped around the form would have likely brought no result at all. 

The face of their foe sizzled and hissed as the holy water acted like an acid burning into unholy undead flesh. A sickening smell rose from the point of damage, and with a gurgle the twisted shape grabbed its face, dropping the hammer right next to Edawon. 

"This won't destroy it," Kerr hissed. "We needs to break the chains."

"Seriously?" Zaza shouted. "And how are we going to do that?"

Krell stepped forward and hacked at the monstrosity's left hand, barely missing the twisting thing which was trying to find the hammer again while clawing its face still. The second and last bottle of holy water hit the back of its head, and more bad smell drifted towards the group. Savram vomited behind the group just as Edawon was pulled down by a burning chain, unable to sidestep. His bolt flew wide. The halfling screeched in pain as the hot sizzling chain burned into his flesh. His eyes fell on the links and he paled. Each link seemed to have a face contorted in terror on it. The captured souls of the undead victims. 

Zaza jumped forward, rolled under the propelling arms and grabbed the heavy hammer to drag it out of the undead's reach. She managed to move it only a little, despite the momentum she had. It was way too heavy for her. As she lost grip, she rolled behind the anvil and bumped into the prone form of a boy. She coughed, the smoke was worse here despite her being on the floor. The boy, Jurin no doubt, seemed to hardly breathe anymore. He was loosely bound in chains, and the girl quickly began to untie him. 

Majek pulled Edawon out of the way of another searching chain and got scorched in the process. He took the small handaxe he carried at his belt and started hacking at the sizzling chain. With some effort, it broke. A ray of frost hit the monster from behind the group and hit it in the already badly damaged head. The blue kobold chuckled madly. The large hulk of the thing swayed back and forth before dropping to the ground in a loud clatter of chains. Nothing was left of its head. 

Now the half-orc grabbed the heavy hammer of their adversary. "This should do it," he growled and started destroying the links of the chain. Edawon shook the remaining chain off his injured ankle and growled as well, though more in pain. His shoulder wound was bleeding again, too. 

"Help," Zaza shouted. "I found Jurin but he is barely breathing."

"Get him out of there. Quick!" Majek ordered before being overtaken by a coughing fit despite the scarf. 

Krell, undisturbed by the smoke which got lighter now that the acid contribution of the undead had ceased, went forward to where he could barely make out Zaza. He lifted both the boy and the coughing girl up and moved back towards where Kronk was. He found the monk breathing heavily still, sitting just outside the smoky area. "He'll need some healing," the shadow man shouted as he checked over Jurin. "Anything against poison might do. We were just in time."

Kerr appeared out of nowhere and grabbed the boy's throat, mumbling a prayer of sorts Krell and Zaza didn't understand. Jurin gasped and took a deep breath, but then fell unconscious again. He was breathing fine now, though, and it seemed color was returning to his face. 

One by one, the others showed up, Majek last. The half-orc was thoughtful. "Each broken chain releases a soul, it seems. I broke the chain in lots of small pieces but it will take time to finish breaking them all, later when we have the time."

Krell looked at him doubtfully. He didn't like the idea of carrying that thing, now bot burning after the undead dropped, around with them. But he could not see leaving it here to be used again, and with all the souls still trapped, so he nodded, too. 

"What now?" Zaza asked wearily, watching Kimi trying to rouse her rescued friend. 

"Down we go," the blue kobold said almost cheerfully. "Let's un-king the king."


----------



## Lwaxy (Apr 24, 2012)

Not been around to GM the conclusion so it is in diary form again. 

-------------------------------------------------------------

Part of Edawon's diary, 29th of Kuthona


...so we went down the shaft to the next level to the kobold caves. Krell and Majek had some trouble, considering how big they are compared to the kobolds, but the rest of us did fine. I was glad to be a halfling, for a change. 

Kerrin, all his blue mystic glory, assured us he could sway most of the tribe to our side. Well, for a big part of the Truescales, this was, well, true. Most of the others, we could surprise. We met a slave driver who thought he could turn his slaves on us, but after they saw we freed two of theirs and those two... I keep forgetting their names... helped us, they turned against their master and ripped him apart. For all they had already witnessed, I'd have loved to spare the children the view, but there was no chance of them looking away, and I thought I saw the girl rather enjoy the little revenge. 

We also found the hatchery, and the midwife – if you can call it that – begged us not to hurt the eggs and kids. Why would we? After she found out we weren't unfriendly, she told us about the shaman's planned sacrifice in the sacrifice chamber. 

Before we could get there, we encountered the king's loyal guard, calling themselves Bloodscales while riding on hideous mutations of giant toads or the like. Yikes. They don't seem to be the safest mounts either because one of them still had a kobold corpse stuck on it who had its head smashed in. I guess the thing jumped too high in the close quartered tunnels. 

Talking of close quartered – fighting under such conditions is tedious. You always have to worry about not hitting your allies, even without ranged weapons. I hate it. Especially when the light all goes out because everyone drops their torches – except for the kids, who used the torches we gave them like clubs. Which made the remaining light tricky and flickering and shifting and all in all very unpleasant to look at. Some kobolds, Krell and the Mikra boy got injured, and one of our kobold allies and two former slaves died – but at least they died free, as the other slaves assured us in their annoying pidgin language. 

After that, we developed a plan. It involved Kronk pretending to be the emissary of his clan, with Krell and Majek as his bodyguards, Zaza as his slave and me as a supposedly willing sacrifice following some sort of god advocating a sacrificial death. They picked me for that because I was quick with a dagger. I was to kneel at the king's feet, then stab him once he was distracted. Our kobold allies would take care of any loyalists after that. 

The idea was fine, because Merlokrep was deranged enough to believe all of it while grinning his one eyed evil grin at us from a throne that looked like it was made from a giant centipede. But was the biggest red kobold... or biggest kobold period... I've ever heard of. He was taller than Kronk or Zaza. Plus, he was standing on the throne. So I had to jump up quite a bit to gut him, and my shoulder and my ankle were bothering me. It was a close call, and the claw marks on my back will probably leave some ugly scars. 

The crown fell down with a loud clang and rolled right toward our blue friend, who stopped it with his foot and proclaimed that this was the sign that he would be the new king. This actually made sense as he was a big, strong, experienced kobold with magic ability. While a pandemonium of chittering voices broke lose, we had to free the captives. The mystic went ahead to try and distract the shaman. Didn't quite work out. The deranged old kobold tore the heart of the captured elf out with some sort of ceremonial knife just as we got there. There was no chance to save the bard's friend. Galesong flew into a rage like a barbarian of legend and decapitated the shaman despite his obvious lack of sword training with one strike. I dreamed of the flying head a few times, seeing it sail through the rank air of the room in slow motion. 

We recovered the catatonic main sacrifice, though, the missing boy. He was under a spell or a drug, but it eventually wore off. Something strikes me weird about the boy though. He was shocked and withdrawn, but now that we are back, he recovers quickly. 

We could not go back by shadow walk with the kids and the bard still in shock. So we took the long way through a wintery wood. Luckily, the snowfall had stopped. The former slaves went back to the mountains, except Kibbo and Jarrdreg, wo were so impressed with Kronk's fighting that they wanted to become monks. Kronk took them to his monastery, so we will see the yellow guy again once thaw starts. Greypelt and his wolves protected us on the way back, so save some funny encounter with a lost giant, we didn't get into anything. 

Falcon's Hollow is sure a nest of evil, as we quickly noticed when we got back. I mean, we knew it before, somehow, but now it was more obvious. That creepy Hollin boy's mother was thankful but avoided us, and we soon found out why. Seems like all widows of the place who aren't ugly, she needs to work as a prostitute and thus isn't allowed any contact to anyone who might wanna do something about it. 

This Lumber Consortium is almost worse than those crime syndicates. Actually, it is organized crime, just looking legal. The Jurin boy's dad kind of owns the town, and he sure is a piece of . The poor boy, on the other hand, seems to have a good heart and just acts tough to please the family. Some piece of work, that bunch. The boy keeps hanging out with us, and Zaza developed some acting scheme, were she and the boy let his dad deliberately listen in on some staged conversations where she supposedly understands his dad and tells him how good he has it or some such, and how his father knows how to keep the money together. I don't know the details, but I jumped right in the one time I met the dad alone, I actually complimented him on knowing how to tech his boy to make his way in life. I'm a good enough actor, and I'm especially good at playing tough types, so he seemed to buy it. I know Majek staged something similar. Dad is quite happy about us since then, especially after I made some offhand comments how the boy picked all the right friends – a ruthless, strong half-elf girl who protects him, a necromancer apprentice who would come in useful, the son of a whore who does what he is told and an imbecile as a token charity – although said imbecile now develops magical powers and will no doubt soon be seen as a tool by Jurin's dad.

Personally, I would like to kill this shiny example of a father before we leave, and I just might do that no matter what the rest of the group thinks. 

Talking of  dads, Savram Vade's father fits the category, too. The young wizard is forced to specialize in necromancy because that is what his father does. Now I know not all necros are evil, but this one sure is. Unfortunately, after his experience with the kobolds, Savram does not want anything to do with the undead. It is Krell who now slowly convinces him that knowing about undead means being safer from them. We have heard his old man threatening to kick him out of he continues to "weakling around" as the father put it. It was more or less an act for the dad who we knew listened in – heck the whole place feels like we need to put on acts all the time. We are thinking of taking both Savram and Jurin, who wishes to become a paladin of Iomedae, with us once the winter has gone. Likely the other kids and Hollin's mother, too. I'm not sure what this means for us. We can't rescue the world, but then, with what I usually do, helping out in this forsaken town is only natural. 

Can't wait for springtime. 




The few hills around Augustana were only barely covered in snow, but the rain that fell almost each morning lately was icy, and the terrain was slippery on the rubble and frozen snow that mostly made up the trail. Mook, Zayel and Tiva followed the elf carefully, Zayel's familiar circling high overhead. Mook's wolf scouted a bit ahead every now and then, but was not keen to leave the gnome's side, and Amaran assured them it was better that way. 

They had learned how the Lantern Bearers – Amaran wasn't aware Mook knew about them, and they hadn't told Tiva anything yet – heard of drow in the area. It all started with the cult of a "mute god" who was one of the mainy failures of the Starstone. Yet the silent priests still clung to the faith, claiming their god not responding was part of the doctrine or something like that.In any case, they kept making pilgimages to somewhere in the hillside, and kept coming back with not spells granted but magic items with such useful abilities as healing and other cures. Thus, people flocked to them. Among the drow hunting elves, rumors had spread that the place the worshipers made their pilgrimage to was a place of interest for a demon worshiping group of drow. A few Lantern Bearers had tried to follow the priests of the muted god to see if this was true, but were never heard of again. 

A few miles back, they had found their remains. It was unsure what exactly killed them, but Zayel had found signs of an ambush, and Amaran said an arrow head found in all the rubble seemed to be drow. 
They had followed the trail marked in a diary one of the elves had with them. 

Just as they were rounding a big boulder which was blocking the way, several crossbow bolts came down from top of the boulder. Two were reflected by the mithril armor Amaran was wearing, and in no time the elf had an elegant looking sword with a shimmering blue light in his hands. Another missed Zayel and Mook by a hair, and one got stuck in Mook's new hairdo. 

Mook saw Zayel mumbling a spell just when her inner eye opened. She hadn't told anyone about this new ability of hers yet. Her inner eye allowed her to see all magical connections of things, and she was often confused by the view. It would take time to learn to use it well. But today, something stood out very clearly. 

The glimpse of a black face peering over the boulder made it all the more clear. Those were some of the drow they had come for, no doubt. And Amaran had been right. They were evil. The whole damned race was evil. And the reason for it shocked her gnome being to the core, so for a long moment, she was unable to act. 

Amaran was levitating in the air, his shield radiating an aura pressing back the waves of evil emanating from their enemies. Zayel had produced a shield for the girls and himself reflecting the crossbow bolts, but he seemed at a loss what else to do when Mook came around again. "D-don't you have an o-offensive spell, s-say, one of those f-firework types you sometimes d-did?"

For a moment, the Wizard was confused. Then, as the sound of sword against sword came from up the boulder, he realized his friend meant magic missiles. "Ah, that's not one of my spontaneous spells yet, and I haven't prepared it."

Mook groaned. It was typical of the young man to pick the wrong spells, as they had learned on their childhood explores. She should have helped him select them. "Anything e-else offensive?" 

A dead black skinned drow came sailing down, his throat cut clean and still shimmering in the same blue light of Amaran's holy sword. Zayel thought that he looked remarkably like an elf. 

Zayel thought for a moment, all the time hoping the elf could deal with their enemies alone. He could not even see their foes, who kept shooting crossbow bolts and arrows at them. Before he could think of anything, he was distracted by the sound of Mook mumbling a spell of her own, and a moment later, the oracle seemed to swim through the air. While she left the protective zone of the shield he had created, she was remarkable swift in avoiding two bolts, and then she was high enough to see their foes. Then she uttered a sentence in a language Zayel did not recognize. It sounded dangerous, evil if anyone would have asked him right then. 

Then he remembered he would be able to fly up there, too, as, thanks to his familiar, it was a spell he could always use. He did have some spells that might be useful, and maybe his hawk could help him in the attack, too. He cursed his slowness in making decisions. "I'll fly after her, just wait here," he began, but Tiva, being in shock still from being attacked the first time in her young life, immediately begged him not to leave her. "I can't make a shield on my own yet, what would I do?" 

Zayel looked up in despair to notice two of the dark skinned humanoids fighting with each other. One of them was close to throw the other one over the edge or even gut him with a dagger. Mook looked on in satisfaction. It must have been her spell causing this, then. The wizard felt even more useless. "Outspelled by an oracle," he mumbled as he resigned himself to the fact that he could only hope to protect the frightened summoner behind him. 

The next drow dropped, cut open from tight to neck, off the boulder. Mook by now had her crossbow in hand and proceeded to kill the remaining drow that had been affected by her spell. The bolt hit the back of his neck and sent him coming down, too. The gnome had not counted on the backlash, though. With no solid ground to brace herself on, the force of the shot made her tumble backwards. She caught herself and fired another shot at whoever else was up there still shooting at Zayel and Tiva. Again she tumbled back. But the shooting ceased. All that was to be heard now was the clang of swords up there.


----------



## Lwaxy (Apr 25, 2012)

Amaran stood in a pool of blood, looking exhausted. The others didn't really wonder about that, considering the length of the fight with the drow just a while ago and now this. 

It had taken him almost another quarter of an hour to dispatch the anti-paladin who had commanded the drow. It had been a personal matter, as he had fought that drow before and lost both times, barely escaping with his life. Mook had been wise enough not to do anything to help. He had needed the victory. 

But they should have rested after that, if just for a bit. The elf had been tired already when they had come to two abandoned watchtowers which once had been used to keep track of activities in the hinterlands of the city. The dead drow in the middle of the road had been their only warning before an already injured and very mad chimera had come down on them, knocking out Zayel in the first fly by. It was a misplaced beast to live here, no doubt it had been on its way to the mountains. Well, now it was on the way to the afterlife. 

The gnome had vanished into the tower ruins to check for any possible treasure. A chimera would not likely be without, even just passing through. The elf did not care though. He watched the human girl reviving Zayel with snow. The wizard was sporting a large bump on his head and looked dazed. "Can you walk?" he asked anxiously. He needed the miracle boy's arcane abilities. 

"Uh, what?" Zayel's disorientation did not vanish. "Where am I? What is going on?"

Mook came out of the last tower to check over and put her hands on her hips. "So you mess up dodging a chimera's tail and now you're mess up remembering any." Then she grinned. "I'll fix y-you up but t-try to avoid a-apendages of large m-monsters now, please." In truth, the gnome was a bit shaken by the encounter, not only because she had never seen a chimera before but because she had not foreseen it happening. In the weeks since they had left the golden city, since she had changed, she had been able to foresee almost anything, if sometimes just seconds before. 

Zayel grimaced as she tended to him. The human girl – Amaran kept forgetting her name – frowned while staring up the path slowly going uphill. "How much further?"

The elf checked the map they had found. "Not much, around that little landslide and around a bend." Not that he was going to admit it, but he was so exhausted and all out of spells that he would probably be useless in another fight. 

To prove he was fine, Zayel was the first to move ahead. With a slight shake of his head, the elf paladin passed him and too front again. "You remember your spells," he smiled at the young man. 

It was indeed not much further. They came around the bend where the path moved down into a small dent in the hill. 2 drow and an ogre were sitting in front of walls with double doors build inside the hillside. The drow seemed to talk among each other while the ogre played marble with some rubble, seeming bored. 

Without thinking, Mook mumbled a spell. A moment later, the lower area filled with a white mist smelling slightly of vanilla and the drow and the ogre vanished in it. "The ogre is j-just a slave," Mook whispered. "M-maybe we don't n-need to hurt him."

The elf nodded and went forward, vanishing into the mist. "He shouldn't go, he's exhausted, everyone can see that," Tiva mumbled, breathing heavily from the exhaustion of all the walking.

"None of us here can fight," Zayel said. "Hey, where did Mook go?" The oracle, too, had vanished into the obscuring mist with her personal vanilla touch. Zayel wondered what with up with the scent and made a mental note to ask her later. "You don't think she wants to talk to the ogre now, do you? He'd tear her apart before she could stutter out anything!" 

"Nah, he won't," Tiva replied between gasps for air.

"And what makes you so sure?"

Pointing into the mist, the summoner grinned. A dead drow came flying out, landing with a oud thud. "Seems they like to fly when they are dead." 
"Yeah, looks like she's got him free and on our side." Zayel sighed, feeling useless again. "Why was it again that Amaran wanted me to go along with him so badly? Mook alone would have done fine."

When the mist cleared, the ogre was just leaving after giving Mook a careful hug. "You, friend," he announced. "Need help some, call for Agrim of Green Hill tribe. Agrim help." With that, the large humanoid man walked out of what they now could see was the base for a larger camp. 

"Seems they want to settle here, huh?" Tiva asked. 

"Could be, no one usually comes up here but those mute god priests," Amaran nodded. "Now, let's see what's inside here." Without any further delay, he pushed the double doors open. 

The solid outside doors silently opened to reveal a large, high-ceilinged room. The opposite wall held two enormous iron doors that appeared to be locked with a simple, enormous iron latch. On those doors was carved a human face, its expression one of silent repose, with a single finger poised over the lips. 

In the northeast and southwest corner of the room were fifteen-foot-square recessed pits from which jutted large black obelisks, faintly glowing blue and casting the rest of the room in a haze of murky  light. Seemed to be a weird creature, the upper half that of a drow, the lower part all spider. 

"That," Amaran explained as the thing turned and screamed at them in an unknown language, "is a drider." 

Tiva let out a small scream as the drider moved his lips to a spell and suddenly turned tom leave the room. Zayel called after her but it was no use. That was when he saw something bird-like from the corner of his eye and turned back to the antechamber. "A vrock?" he said in disbelief. He had always considered the talks about bird-like demons to be rather stupid. But now he could see it was all true. 

Before Mook could take all the casting spotlight again, Zayel spread his arms and turned, spreading a thin line of powdered silver around himself and Mook while saying the magic words to erect a protective circle around them. He would still be able to cast inside here, but unless the demon or the drider were very powerful – and he dared to say they weren't – the two of them would be safe. 

Amaran stumbled backwards, stuck in strands of silk, the results of a web spell. "Oh just g-great," Mook growled. "What now?"

Zayel pointed a finger and hissed two words. A spark flew towards the web and set it aflame. With a hissing glow and an awful smell, the silk burned off the paladin while doing little to no damage.  

The drider hissed again, and the vrock advanced on the paladin. "He's too w-weak," the gnome knew. "and I won't be able to get him to attack the drow." 

"Drider," Zayel corrected automatically. "He is half spider, can't you do your spider control stuff on him?" 

As the paladin got up to meet the demon in battle, Mook shook her head. "That's l-like c-controlling an elf with a m-monkey related spell." 

Zayel brought orth another spell, letting the vrock trip over nothing, which caused the elf to land a lucky hit. "Come on think! Do I know any spells to do more?"

Once more, Mook looked at him strangely. She would never understand how her friend could turn so many spells into spontaneous castings like a sorcerer did, and yet forget many of them a lot of the time. "You should w-write a-all the spells you can d-do like that d-down, you know," the gnome growled. "That freezing thing, m-maybe? Did you b-bring any of those magic items w-with you?" 

When Zayel's face fell, Mook first took that as a no until she saw the wizard reaching into his backpack. He produced two wands. "Yeah," he said sheepishly. "Those would have so helped us down there, no? I'm so scatterbrained." 

"But that's w-why we all l-love you," Mook grinned. Better late then never.


----------



## Lwaxy (May 5, 2012)

As the dust and smoke settled over the scene, Zayel dropped to the ground and stared at the used up wands. Both the vrock, who had left only a few feathers behind, and the drider had been ore resilient than he had thought. His head was spinning from some sort of sinic spell that had hit him. "I didn't think using wands wound require that much energy," he groaned. Vaguely, he remembered his father mentioning that to use certain magic items, you had to use some of your own magic, which was why such items could only be used by those able to use that magic without aid.

"You used up a-all t-the charges?" Mook asked.

Zayel nodded weakly and threw a glance at Amaran, who was sprawled on the floor after the drider had launched some bright spell at him. "I hope he's alive?"

"Y-yeah, and p-probably n-not as bad off as it l-looks," Mook grinned. For some reason, the gnome seemed to be brighter than before and didn't look the slightest bit tired. 

"So, what now? Was that lall of those drow? Do we need to born the bodies or something?" Zayel stood up again, trying to shake the dizziness..

"That, and find out what is inside there." Amaran's voice sounded even weaker than his own. "For them to be so far away from where they are usually found and so adamant on getting inside, it must be something really important. Maybe some old cult site."

"T-those o-other cultists, t-they g-got magic up here s-somehow, yes?"

"Yeah." Zayel went closer to the next door. "I see what you mean. If those mute god freaks could get magic, maybe the drow wanted that, too."

"I think," Mook said, eyes half closed, "I t-think I know w-what is inside." Then she turned at pointed to the exit. "But one of you b-better be searching for T-tiva, the spell that sh-shocked her must have worn out by n-now. She's probably l-lost."

Zayel closed his eyes and felt for his familiar. "Will says she is on her way back up the hill, but she is not alone. Someone small like a halfling is with her." 

Mook nodded. "I g-guess she f-finally called her e-eidolon back in a-all the panic."

"I'll check." The elf vanished outside. 

"So what's inside?" Zayel pointed once the elf was gone. 

"Something a-ancient and s-silent," the gnome replied. "S-silence is the k-ey here. T-that's why the m-mute god followers c-could pull it off." According to Mook, the magic energy inside was very powerful, and any sound would shatter the place. 

As she explained this, Zayel's face showed total confusion. "What good would such a place do? Is is a site for a test or something?"

"I d-do not know. I'm j-just an oracle," the gnome smiled. "P-ut a silence s-spell on me, yes? I w-will check it out." 

Zayel nodded and did so, ignoring that the elf would not be too pleased about it. But then, he had not been all that happy about the way Amaran acted about all this either. Soon after Mook vanished, the other 3 appeared in the door. Tiva had a weird companion at her side. The size of roughly a halfling, it looked like a walking mix of dog and pig, with long ears, droopy eyes, a pig snout but fine fingers and toes looking like it could be good at crafts. Its eyes looked very intelligent, but it appeared shy. The clothes of the thing were even weirder. They seemed to be made from an ever changing, shining material. It was impossible to see if it was a male or a female, or maybe neither. 

Noticing his stare, Tiva smiled weakly. "This is Onu," she introduced the being. "My eidolon."

"I guessed." Zayel grinned. "Nice to meet you – it can understand me, yes?"

"I'm a she... I think," the eidolon replied in a voice sounding like a talking pig. "Your world is so different. Tiva made me but never called me much." Onu sounded sad about it. 

"I'm sorry, Onu," Tiva whispered. 

"The gnome went inside?" Amaran's eyes flashed annoyance. 

"Yes, and we need to make no sound if we are not to destroy what is inside." Quickly, Zayel tried to explain what Mook had found, although he had the feeling he was confusing the others. But Mook was already exiting the strange place with a serious look on her face. 

Her wolf's ears perked up and he sat up. Until now, he had waited half outside, half inside, not having dared to come close to the demon or the spidery thing. Now that the danger was over and something had happened with his mistress, he was becoming more and more agitated. 

Mook pointed to the used up wands Zayel was still holding. Confused, he handed them to her and watched her gliding back inside, still covered by his spell. "What's that about?"

"I have an idea," the paladin said. "The cult members came back with magical things all the time. Maybe the energy I can feel inside there is recharging items, or making them magic to begin with."

"Now that would be useful, but why would the drow be so interested? I mean, it's too far from where they are, or so you have hinted. Seems pretty much useless, even with establishing a base here." Zayel scratched his head. "And they would be found out after having to contest with the cult members."

"I don't know," Amaran frowned, but it sounded like only half the truth. Zayel decided not to press the matter though as Mook was exiting again, handing him the wards back. Zayel removed the spell and looked at her expectantly. 

"There's raw magic in there, somehow, recharging magical things," Mook lifted her finger to show the ring she had recharged. "Means I can save the ritual for later. It all has to be in silence though, not sure why this is. And I don't think it would be drow friendly. Drow use dark magic, and that's all light in there."

Zayel knew his friend was lying, although she was very convincing. The others didn't notice, and he tried not to betray his insight on his face. "So they would have probably gone mad and destroyed the place?" he offered. 

"If they didn't plan to just do that anyway," the gnome nodded. 

"So, what now? Do we let the cultists come here and do their pretend thing? Or close it off, or what? Do we need to protect this place somehow?" Zayel talked fast, trying not to allow the paladin to jump in before he had turned the discussion into the direction he wanted, just as his bard father had taught him to do. 

"No, to them it needs to look like the place has been destroyed," Mook suggested. "Then the drow will stay away as well." 

"Just because it is ancient," the paladin managed to put in, "does not mean it needs to be preserved. There are many dangerous sites and artifacts my people have destroyed rather than risk it falling into the wrong hands"

"But this can't fall into the wrong hands!" Without the stutter, Mook radiated a strange authority, one that made even Zayel feel uneasy. "If really needed, we can come back and destroy it later. The drow will not return. What we need is a permanent illusion. Do you know someone who could make an illusion permanent?" Mook asked the elf.

"I can do that," Tiva piped up, flushing a bright red in the process. "When we weren't taught how to deal with our eidolons, we were told how to make the few other spells we knew permanent. I should be able to do that."

"Oh?" The gnome nodded. "Very well, then, let's get to work. One less to know about this is all the better." 




Edawon's Diary, 13th  of Abadius

There seems to be no end of troubles in the world, no matter where you go. Not that I didn't know that already but anytime I am reminded, I feel like another weight drops on my shoulders. 

Winter is still in full swing, although the snowfall has dried up and the weather is great most of the time. This has prompted the Lumber Consortium to start a new lumber camp now, so that it would be ready in spring for the harvest – that's what they call the destruction of the woods. Seems something didn't like their actions though, as this morning, the taskmaster of the new cutyard came back in a desolate state. Something had attacked, and while ha had not waited to see what it was, he insists he heard the dying screams of the others. No other survivors appeared during the day. 

Kreed, the boss of this town, wants to send a considerable force of his men into the woods tomorrow, and he wants us to go along. This is weird because before, he was none too happy about our continued involvement with his son and our popularity, especially since he considers us children, except for Krell and me. My guess is he is planning something sinister, but short of leaving, which we can't do yet as we want to take the children along and need more favorable conditions for that, we had no choice but to agree. However, as Greypelt has visited me this night and informed me that it is possible the kobolds are back – however that figures in – we should probably check it out in any case. 

Thus, we will be leaving tomorrow at first light. I have told the others about my suspicion so everyone will stay alert. 

The fox I found in the forest has recovered, and it is time to give her a name, I think, as she does not want to move from my side much. I will leave her behind tomorrow though as I doubt she would be safe in the presence of those who destroy her living space.





Edawon's Diary, 14th of Abadius


The leader of the consortium thugs – can't call them anything else, really – is an annoying thick necked guy called Boss Teedum. I call him Tedious on purpose and it annoys him to no end. He brought 4 goons with him. One, called Flick, got issues with the dark, and so I've asked Greypelt and his wolves to howl close by, just staying out of the range of any weapons. It got them all nervous and they wonder how we can be so calm. I am thinking of asking Greypelt to remove Tedious and his goons once we are sure we won't need them. 

We are observed by fey, that much I am sure of. Krell has noticed it, too. But as we should be known as friendly to the forest, we should not be in problem. Even weirder than being watched was the meeting with two giants, a couple that seems to have some marriage issues. First we met him, looking for his wedding ring so we helped him find it much to the annoyance of the thugs. Later we met the worried wife and pointed her in the direction of her husband. Zaza whispered something to  Morgsa – that's her name – but she refused to tell me what it was. 


We arrived at the lumber camp late afternoon. There wasn't much sunlight filtering in, and smoke was everywhere. They made a large clearing, tree stumps were everywhere. There were also a few log buildings looking somewhat unfinished. Everything that wasn't very solid was smashed. We could hear the fire and smell burning flesh and death – and something like from a tomb, or maybe only me and Krell could smell that. It was, to me, a clear sign of undead presence, and once more I wished we had the dwarf paladin at our site. 

Krell waved for the others to hold back while the thugs, cursing loudly, went to check out the camp, throwing looks at us likely meaning they would kill us if we touched anything. How stupid. Krell declared loudly he would scout the outskirts with the rest of us to make sure nothing was still lurking. Of course, with his shadow world sharpened eyes, he had already seen dead kobolds among the bodies and didn't want to trigger any traps. Him and me, we both know kobolds – at least the standard variety. Asides, Zaza felt sick from the view, and while Majek did not admit it, he didn't feel good either. 

We watched from the wood, using the thugs for trap spring and monster bait, something they probably intended to do with us, except for their stupidity. Surely enough, the dead kobolds were actually undead. We were shocked by this, but then, we weren't the ones attacked. 

Asides from the undead kobolds, there was suddenly a big log on a rope swinging around like a pendulum, throwing one of the thugs who had just disposed off a kombie – our new word for kobold zombie – into some sting nettles. Two others sucked into what must have been the office building, and both came out again with crossbow bolts in their backs. 

When Tedious and a bunch of certainly alive kobolds came running out of the office a bit later, followed by a swarm of angry centipedes, Krell decided that enough was enough and friend them with this electric spread he does, not quite like lighting and usually not very dangerous, but the insects, he got most of them with it. Also zapped the kobolds and Tedious a little, but that was more a source of amusement. 

Krell then went back onto camp ground, followed by us, and announced in a very serous voice that nothing was lurking around the camp. Yes, we had made sure of that, but the way he said it when he just saw what was going on with the kombies and kobolds was too comical. We laughed about it later. At that point, we managed to look equally serious. Then Zaza asked why they had not obeyed their own warning about the woods and camps being dangerous. 

I thought the thug would explode. He was about to say something when the last remaining of his goons came running out of the main camp building, followed by a swarm of what looked like flesh eating locusts. 

I have to admit I dislike insect swarms, I never know what to do about them, and from Zaza's screams, she felt the same way. Krell's lightning thing worked again though, if not in the way he had intended. Only about half of the locusts dropped off dead or paralyzed. The rest of them got very very pissed and went all over the guy they had been following. Not a death I wish on anyone, so I was quite relieved to see Krell helped the matter with a few more spells, including some poison gas of whatever it was. It smelled hell awful, and Zaza fainted for a moment. Sometimes, she is really girly. 

There were still some of those pests left, unfortunately, and somehow they had deducted who was attacking them. They left the body of their victim and came at Krell and, because he was standing by with gaping mouth, Boss Tedious. 

I never saw any humans run that fast as those two. Krell was lots faster, than the stocky Tedious of course. There was a big pile of timber logs nearby, and the two of them scrambled up on them as if that would help anything. The locusts got Tedious on his way up, but they didn't get to eat him, unfortunately. Because right then, a kobold we hadn't noticed – and a living one at that – loosened the pile's chains which were holding it in place. Before anyone knew it, the logs were coming down on us, with Krell balancing barely on them, Tedious tumbling down with them, the locusts vanishing or being squashed and a bunch of blue kobolds screaming and trying to avoid disaster. For some reason, they didn't split up and avoid the logs for good bun run ahead of them, like in bad stories. They dashed between the office and the watchtower, being lucky. Not so lucky were Krell and Tedious, who both managed to get into the tower. The door fell close behind them, and only now dd we hear the moaning of pain from above. A dwarf lumberjack was tied up and hanging to the side of the tower – obviously a trap we totally missed to begin with. But now Krell and the thug had gotten into it due to the logs. And the tower was badly shaken and in places shattered by the logs, it was lenaing over like a drunk sailor in a whorehouse. 

I heard a kobold cry out in panic and found Majek standing over the cause of the log avalanche. He said the kobold had tried to magically disappear when he got him. It was a large green kobold who thought he was about to be beheaded, and after all this I was about to advise the alchemist to just do it. But then, we have seen in the past how kobolds are easily coaxed into anything, at least those supposedly lesser ones, and so i went over to bind him. Then I told the others about the trap Krell was in. 

Just then we heard Tedious scream, and a chuckling hiss sounding like "brainsbrainsbrainssss." One of the kombies was obviously inside the tower. We heard Krell curse and more cried from Tedious, and Zaza and Majek looked at me as if it was up to me to decide what to do next. But before I could decide, the screaming blue kobolds were back, this time followed by about a dozen of kombies, all hissing for "braaaainsss" and going "meeeeerk." It was totally weird. I found myself wondering why those kombies followed their former clan mates, considering that they didn't behave as if they had any brains to start with. 

I probably didn't mention yet that I do not like zombies, and much less kombies, either. In some parts of the world they are used as servants, perverted as that is. Those, they were just ordered to eat, as it seemed. And I'm still not sure what it is about them wanting to eat brains, when they are neither in need of any nourishment nor would a brain be something so special. I will need to ask the paladin when we meet again. 

Now there were a lot of logs scattered around, and while the kobolds climbed over it quickly, the kombies stumbled around and lost their balance again and again, making them an easy target for us to pick off one by one. It was teedum, err tedious work, though, and we all got splattered by stuff we didn't want to think about. Suddenly, we were joined by a Krell who was positively grinning. We found out he had let the large kombie eat the brains of the thug – didn't take long, small brain and all – and then shifted the thing into the shadow world. 

Him and Zaza went back up to rescue the dwarf, when suddenly the now out of breath bunch of kobolds appeared again, this time followed by a swarm of spiders. No idea where they picked them up, but I got tired of them. I suggested Majek should use a bottle of alchemist's fire, and he did. I didn't think that one trough, though, because now the logs were burning and we had to run for distance. Luckily, nothing else could burn in the clearing – except the tower. So we had the rescued dwarf and 2 of our own up there and were beginning to panic. 

Krell, on the other hand, decided to shadow walk it, as there were enough shadows in the tower and under the trees. He appeared with the unconscious dwarf and Zaza just as the almost falling over kobolds came running again. They appeared out of the smoke, coughing and gasping, followed by a huge beetle. And I mean huge. As in, like a hut.  And his mandibles were glowing, some energy crackled between his antenna and I kind not, there were jewels in its... well, whatever you call what covers its body! It seemed it had been hiding in the stable ruins. I can positively say, after this encounter, I hate insects. 

I am not sure how the others brought it down, because at this point, I put myself in front of the kobolds and lead their running and screaming. I'm not even ashamed of that, there is something for everyone to scare them just a bit too much, and that was it for me. When me and the 3 kobolds, who strangely accepted me after that, got back, the monster was simply gone. I suspect Krell but didn't ask. 

We then set to use our healing potions on the lumberjack and interviewed the kobolds. Turned out that they were of the tribe we helped to get rid of the king, but then the kombies, minions of a now kombie king Merko... whatever his name is again... and some living kobold referred to as sting warden, a druid title given to masters of vermin what explained all the insects, tried to press them into joining them. They were of course terrified and just wanted to go home. The kombie king was out for revenge and we would be clever to run, they said. 

The dwarf, Thelgrin, told us of this sting warden kobold, describing him as green scaled menace. Most of the lumberjacks had been killed, but some had been taken, we think to lure us after them after we know what now know, and with the dwarf as extra bait. Thelgrin said they took the hostages to the west, but no one in their sane mind would go there as there is a place called Cold Marrow there which 'would crack your bones and freeze your soul." But I do not see that we have any other choice. 

We burned the rest of the camp, and then Krell used his last bit of strength to shadow walk the unconscious again dwarf to Falcon's Hollow. He couldn't take us all, like it would have worked with a teleport spell, and he couldn't come back the same evening so we feet even more lonely out here. We burned the rest of the camp and went a bit off the area to make camp. I took first watch so I am now writing this while watching Zaza sleep. From what I see, she likely has nightmares but I don't want to wake her. The kobolds are still with us but we won't trust them with a watch.


----------



## Lwaxy (May 15, 2012)

Small weirdness with the "revenge of the kobold king" adventure - why would only the destroyed undead guard have a sword worth taking? I gave the others swords as well. 

-------------------------------------


Edawon's Diary, 15th of Abadius


We found out from the blue kobolds that the other kobold we took prisoner was indeed the one who had set all the insects on the loose in the camp. Luckily, we found he had only agreed to help his undead former king because him and his apprentices had nowhere else to go. In the end he was happy enough to follow the blue guys to their new leader and take his remaining apprentices with him. 

Krell came back just after they left, and he brought a surprise. Edgrin Galesong had heard about what had happened, and after the thugs were no longer with us he decided to help us out, after all, his own party had died thanks to that rotting king. It is a welcome addition to our team. The bard said that the half-elf girl Kimi had also wanted to come, but of course Krell had declined that offer. She is too young yet and too inexperienced. 

Krell also brought news about the lumber consortium's displeasure about the deceased employes. Being good in such manipulations, Krell had explained that they had all put themselves in harm's way instead of listening to us and be careful, and how Teedum had always boasted about knowing the dangers of the wood. 

We arrived at Cold Marrow a few hours later, as we had some trouble pushing through the snow. It is indeed a grim place. Even the glum lifeless rock there was a dull gray, like the petrified skull of some mountainous god. But the most striking feature of the desolate site was the silence. If silence could have a form I'd say it was thicker than fog and as oppressive as thunder. No bird song or knocking of woodpeckers disturbed the noiseless din. The slightest sound t seemed to echo through the limp rotting trees for miles. If there is such thing as undead land, this would be it. 

We finally arrived at the side of a giant hill. There we found a mound of earth and clay. Symbols of unknown origin encrusted its entire exterior, although most were eroded by time’s careless caress. Ascending the mound were a series of broken stairs framed by two giant menhirs of white marble. In the middle of those stairs two enormous stone disks, each the size of a giant’s wagon wheel, rested one atop the other, their edges overlapping slightly. The disks were carved with thousands of runes in wild patterns that could make you dizzy if you looked at them for too long. Thew bard thinks it might have been a calendar once, but what exactly it did, we can't say.

Several depressions in the disks marked the places where valuable gems or metals one were, but of course treasure hunters had removed them by now. Amazingly, Zaza found and recovered a sapphire left behind, a pleasant surprise. We may have to get it checked out once we meet Zayel again, as Majek guesses it might be magical. 

Another pair of menhirs framed the entryway to the barrow mound atop the hillside. Once, this entrance was probably smooth stone covered in wards and curses, but now this seal lies was all but blasted shards. Lying crumpled at the entryway were two kobold corpses, twisted and blackened. Their teeth were gone, their eyes hollowed, and horrific grimaces adorn their withered faces. Darkness beckoned beyond this cold welcome and a rasping hollow laughter echoes forth from the broken seal. Yes, only a fool could not notice that there were still some active curses. Thus, we had to shadow walk in with Krell again. Unfortunately, he would not be able to get all of us out by the same method so we hoped that the way out would not be a problem. 

The stairs down into the tomb were a lot less damaged than those outside, but that was to be expected. Then there was water at the bottom of the stairs. The sound of bubbling water echoed here and the air was dank and warm. By now, we had lit a lantern. In every corner of the room a fountain bubbled and smoked, with wisps of white-hot vapor rising from the carved needle-filled maws of some strange fish-like creatures. The stone effigies of this strange race were rendered in elegant repose, spouting water from their mouths into basins made by their cradled arms. The fountain in the northwest corner was smashed to bits. Rubble now mostly dammed the flow of whatever hot spring feeded it, but warm water pooled around its base, slowly frothing into the center of the room. The damage seemed to have been rather recent. 

That was all the warning we had before 3 water elementals jumped out of the other fountains and attacked us. I'm not sure what Krell did as I put myself in front of Zaza and thus covered our only light source, but there was a blinding light and heat, and then there was steam, and a lot of it. We didn't exactly get hurt, but it was very uncomfortable and we started to sweat on top of the already existing dampness. All the water in the room was gone. Zaza commented on getting badly sick if we would get out in the cold like this again, and Krell said he would fix this when we were done if he had any magic left. 

We next came to a chamber serving as crossroads of sorts. It was once an ornate room but time had ravaged it. Half crumbled carvings of cityscapes, some atop clouds and others below the waves,  adorned the walls. Wispy cloud-stuff formed a ring of white vapor just below the ceiling. Four corridors branched off of this chamber in each cardinal direction. On the east wall, a cracked and crumbling portrait of a bearded man wearing armor made of coral and some strange glowing metal rested on the archway above the corridor there. More rasping laughter came from the room to the east, as well as the muffled moans of some tormented soul. 

"Azlanti?" Galesong asked in wonder, as he recognized who build this. Until then, we had simply not given it much thought. At the same time, Krell yelled "hold your breath!" and hurled a lighting spell at the cloud thing, which was now swooping down on us. 

I had no idea what was going on, so I pushed Zaza through the archway on the right in a full run. I saw the half-orc pulling something from his belt, then there was the stink of something alchemical just as we made it into the other room. I had to breathe, but it didn't seem to matter as that weird smoke creature was not near us. 

The chamber we entered had suffered a cave-in and now most of it was crushed beneath tons of rock, clay, and earth. One sarcophagus near the entrance, its lid carved with a vaguely feminine form, escaped destruction, although it had mostly crumbled away. It seemed safe enough until a ghostly white form of a beautiful human woman rose from the rubble. 

Did I mention enough that I dislike undead? I know a wraith when I see one, thanks to enough encounters, alright. Oh, I'm sure Mr. Undead-Bane paladin hasn't seen a single undead since splitting from us. He'll probably wonder why he has bothered to take up that specialization when there are hardly any undead around. I've got news, Bjön. They are stalking us instead! 

I hope running from something doesn't become my new past time or something, but there was little else Zaza or me could do. We ran back to the crossroad room where the remains of what I later learned was some sort of air elemental were just blown out of the tomb by a gust of wind spell. We must have been shouting like those kobolds yesterday because Krell turned and made this kind of face saying 'can't I leave you alone' and started in on another spell. 

This was different from his usual spells though. The shadows seemed to draw in on him, take form and then hurl off towards the female wraith. I didn't look to see what would happen, by that time I was tired of the whole adventure. Really, if those kombies move into an old tomb, the least you could expect is for them to clean it all out. Actually, you could expect the darn critters to stay dead to begin with once you killed them square and fair. 

But of course, we had to finish what we came here for. All I wanted was to make that former king thing fall apart, or rather, watch one of the others do the job as I felt pretty useless compared to an alchemist and fighter's opportunities and a sorcerer's magic. Or even a bard's music. I need to get myself some exploding bolts for my crossbow and train with the sword more. Maybe find some undead bane weapon. 

Because, to no big surprise, the room to the left had yet more undead guardians, this time they looked to be the former guards of whoever was buried here. Out of the 6 corpses, 5 had fallen to the command of the kobold kombie king (from now on referred to as the KKK), which was done with a sealstone, as we later found out, same way the kombies had gotten in to begin with. Anyway, the 6th corpse had killed... or is that re-killed... itself with his sword upon detecting the treachery. 

We had some problem turning them to dust, partly because Zaza froze up and partly because Krell seemed to be exhausted from using magic so much and had trouble with his parries and footwork. It had been so much easier had he been able to spell them all into a shadowy existence as well. That's the trouble with magic. Although, I guess, simply being exhausted physically is not all that different. 

We took their swords with us, as Krell was sure they were magically enhanced. Majek carried them, as he had the most strength out of us. Long swords can be quite heavy, especially if there are several to carry. 

The room straight on was a little deeper yet. I think I'm beginning to get claustrophobic underground, and it seems to be worse the deeper I am under. Anyway, this wide gallery was filled with dozens of elegantly carved statues, but what they once depicted could now only be guessed. Many were smashed and all were damaged to the point of being unrecognizable. The floor was littered with broken stone and rubble. It seemed that undead kobolds are a lot worse that living ones. Not a real surprise, I guess. Luckily, Krell was feeling a bit better and Zaza was back in the fray, so we disposed off 10 or 12 kombies before it all went quiet. Except for the moaning coming from the next room, that was. 

Within the next chamber was a single raised dais where a grand sarcophagus of carved coral rested. Around the chamber, the crumbling walls were covered with murals that were now little more than smeared paint and powder. Amazingly, the sarcophagus itself remained closed and undisturbed. But of course, Merlowhatshisname used it as a throne now. 

Someone had sewn him back together with different materials, and made a bad job out of it, too. He wasn't alone, he had two of his former bodyguards, big red kobolds like himself, standing next to him, rotten to the core in the literal sense. We could also see two lumberjacks behind the sarcophagus, but they were not moving. 

Krell was suddenly gone, but I had no time to contemplate this as the king thing got up and spoke in a creaky voice, suggesting that we could die quickly if we'd give him back his crown. Duh, well, we didn't have that one anymore, but the guy was already removed from reality when he was still living. I was just about to suggest an all out attack when Zaza spoke up. "We'd love to give back the crown," she said. "That's why we are here. But it was taken from us by who sewed you together." 

Clever trick, I have to admit. I hadn't thought about how it happened that the king was some sort of intelligent undead now. Well, as far as you could call him intelligent to begin with. Merlowhatever was totally shocked at Zaza's information, and his undead brain visibly struggled with the situation. Finally, he went into some sort of rage, giving conflicting orders to his last two remaining subjects. He mumbled a name we could barely understand. Drassmock, Drazmorg? But supposedly that was the name of whoever raised him as an undead. 

Before the undead guy could get his meager wits about him again and restore order out of the chaos he had created, Krell appeared behind the sarcophagus out of the shadow plane. The shadow around him spawned tentacles and grabbed the undead kobolds to drag them into the opening Krell stepped out of. From the look on his face, the sorcerer had been running from the thing. I still wonder what's up with that but he didn't want to talk about it. In any case, the tentacle thing succeeded, dragged the screaming and cursing kobolds into the opening and then the opening closed. Zaza screamed about Krell, and when I looked, the man had collapsed right next to the unconscious lumberjacks. Whatever it was he had done had cost him all his remaining power. 

The bard went to pick up the adamantine axe the former king had dropped as he was dragged and claimed it for himself, as compensation for the death of his comrades, as he growled. He looked somewhat dangerous in that moment. 

Zaza and Majek managed to wake the lumberjacs and give them the little on healing potions we had. Glad to be rescued, they managed to help Majek carry Krell out into the chamber where the water elementals had been. The room is dry enough now, and seeing how it would be impossible to carry the human any further and most of us are still too damp to go into winter cold, we decided with some apprehension to make camp in there for the night. It gives us a chance to dry our clothes and change into something clean, except for the lumberjacks of course who have no spare clothes. Edgrin entertains us with some music, which puts our minds mostly at ease for the time being. Krell woke up half an hour ago, long enough to get out of his old clothes and into something dry, but he was shaking and not talking and we worry for him. I hope we will have a calm enough night and Krell will wake up tomorrow with no lasting effects. 



At the time the group made camp, a certain bard and a certain paladin were sitting in the office of the new commander of the former baron's residence. One of the Andoran captains had been put in charge, and she seemed to know what she was doing, at least from the view of the dwarf and the human. Captain Melkon had just handed them a piece of paper watching their faces for recognition. On the table in front of her was a simple map showing a fishing village and 3 islands at the coastal region between Cheliax and Andoran. 

My dear baron,

The power to put an end to  Andoran is here. Send me six troops, a priest of Norgorber  who will take orders and  won’t proselytize, a holy symbol of Iomedae, and 30 feet of silver wire, and I will release the terrible treasure. 

    Your servant, Poltur The Accursed


The two heroes of Piren's Bluff, as they were now commonly known, shook their heads and looked back and the white haired woman. "Never seen this before," Bjön said. "If it was found on the baron, we've simply overlooked it." 

The captain nodded. "It was crumpled in his pockets. Anyway, something is up in this village, Chimera Cove, and we need someone to check it out., someone unsuspicious and with some experience. You seem to fit the profile."

"You want us to go down there and check things out?" Teltz asked just to be sure. "All by ourselves? If you want us to post as the baron's men, we are at least short a priest and 4 more men." 

He might have said it with a bit too much force. The captain looked at him, with understanding in her eyes. "I know you just lost a comrade, and you are eager to travel on to meet other comrades. But this needs to be done, and likely before spring time comes. News travel fast, and if we wait any longer, the news of the baron's death will reach the village and it will be harder to find out what is going on or do anything about it. And it is not like we won't pay you for your services."

"She has a point," the paladin admitted. 

"And no, you would not go alone. There is another half group of adventurers here, as they call themselves. They are eager to work with you two, as your deeds have already been noticed in the area. And then there is Pojali." 

She waved towards the back of the room and a beautiful young woman appeared. Not the type with almost no meat or slim as a rake in danger to topple over from the weight of their bosom, but with all "the meat in the right places" as Bjön's teacher would have said. Her skin was of a light brown, and her onyx eyes seemed to look right though them. Both men were immediately taken by the woman, and for the Varisian, something seemed to click immediately. 

"Pojali is a Vudrani priest of the Void," Melkon explained. "And as such, she can pass for a priest of Norgober at any time. She will be a great asset to you."

"Of the void?" Bjön frowned. "I have never heard of such a faith."

"You have probably not heard of any of our gods." Pojali's voice flowed like a river, or maybe a song in a summer night. Teltz had trouble not to stare. She did not seem to notice. "We have so many gods that some of our own people do not know them all, and no doubt some of them are just different versions of the ones you worship. I can tell you more about it on our journey." Her smile definitely brightened the room. 

If there had been any doubt in the two heroes' minds about going, it was all washed away. "When do we leave?" the bard asked


----------



## Lwaxy (May 21, 2012)

Zaza's diary, exhausted and confused as she was she forgot to date the entry


I don't even know why I bother writing this all down. I want to forget about it right now, and I may want to never be reminded again but with my luck, that's not going to happen. Ed suggested that writing down my thoughts might help getting them out of my head but that is not how it usually works for me. 

The night we camped in the chamber with the fountains, the kobolds we found dead at the entrance before returned as undead. Galesong called them bodaks, but I don't really care what they are called, I really had it with those things. 

I got shouted at to use the crossbow, well, I don't know if that ever does anything good against undead so I didn't bother. Only when Galesong started to sing a war chant did I feel confident enough to take the short sword Ed had dropped and stand watch over the lumberjacks and Krell, none of them could fight. 

Ed had taken up one of those long swords we got from the undead guardians, and so had Majek. Galesong was swinging the adamantine axe he got from the undead king. I didn't dare much to look but one of the undead heads came flying by me a few moments later. 

I have to say that Galesong scared me. I understand revenge and all that. But he raged like a barbarian, or a maniac. He seemed to miss most of the time; probably axes weren't his good weapon, but he did enough damage to help the others I was later told. 

I was shaken out of my thoughts by Majek, who simply suggested I should go back to sleep while they would clean up. Well, I thought I couldn't but somehow I fell into a nightmarish sleep anyway. Didn't fell all that rested when I got up early morning, of course. 

There was something else in my dreams I couldn't quite put a finger on, nothing to do with the undead or our situation, but it felt even more disturbing. I didn't tell anyone then, and I don't want to now. 

Krell had woken up at some point, and he looked better. He was shaky standing though, and he had not regained any of his magic abilities. So we had to walk back the way we had come, through the strange, undead-like forest. We moved incredibly slow, and it was already late afternoon when we arrived at our former campsite near the burned down lumberjack camp. We pressed on for a bit, until we met the kobold sentries from the Truescale tribe. 

They told us the tribe was on the move into the mountains, where Kronk's people were. They didn't fell safe under the monastery anymore, as the shadows, as they called them, which had driven them up into the building to begin with were now coming to upper levels. In their typical kobold way, they advised us to move out of the area as quickly as possible, too. 

By then it was almost dark so we made camp in the next clearing. And although nothing happened that night, I woke at every sound of the forest. Something must be wrong with me to be so scared lately. Or maybe I just wanted to escape my ongoing weird dreams. 

We returned to Falcon's Hollow the following afternoon. After briefly telling our story, we excused ourselves to the Sitting Duck – some prankster had added an H so it now read Shitting Duck and the owner wasn't happy about it – for a hot meal and some drink. All we wanted was to sleep in real beds, preferably after a hot bath. But we were barely done with our foot and hadn't ordered a second round yet – watered down ale only for me, of course – when a weird man we vaguely know entered the tavern. Verrin Tieruk, who served as some sort of independent undertaker, but was known to steal from the dead if he could. 

There was some sort of dread rising in me already. From undertaker and dead to undead it was only a small step in my mind, and I was right. For the guy babbled of rising dead in his graveyard and how they were coming to attack the town. And he kept shouting that it was not his fault, that he had nothing to do with it. Most people were laughing, but those who had listened in to our tale were worried. 

To save myself a lot of words, he wasn't lying. The town was soon under attack from different sides, and no one knew why. At first, they had thought visitors would come, but from up close it was clear that they were dealing with zombies and worse. 

With Krell still no help – he could barely walk on his own – the rest of us went to help the defenses. It turned out the Lumber Consortium was highly efficient in this task already, But we didn't want to just sit by, either, despite being exhausted. 

The town's only cleric was a great help in turning them and healing the – thankfully few – injured. The ghouls were the major annoyance, but I can't remember any details save that someone gave me burning arrows to shoot at them. Some when late at night it was over and I can only remember falling into bed eventually, still half dressed. 

I woke from the stink of burning corpses. The lumberjacks had dismembered the remains and were burning them on a field that was supposedly downwind, but just our luck that the wind had changed today. Ignoring all that. I insisted on my hot bath and a good breakfast. I was just done when Ed came to get me, accompanied by Kronk! The kobolds in the mountain had noticed the strange happenings, including some undead animals in the forest, and so Kronk and a sizable group had decided to come down and help the town out. They had been a day too late, but the townsfolk, after some hesitation, were glad to have the help in case it happened again. 

I mentioned my worry that whoever raised the kobold king could be behind all this. The rest of our group agreed. Two necromancers in the area, of such a power anyway, would be too much of a coincidence. We considered asking the town's necromancer, but he was still miffed at us because we had spoiled his son, so we decided not to bother. 

Of course, we had to run out to the cemetery and check it out. The undertaker's hut was messed up, and his mule had been killed. That was not surprising. What was surprising was the fact that the trail of trampled snow didn't lead south towards the town. It was going north. The undead, who seemed to have indeed dug themselves out of their graves on their own, were not those who attacked Falcon's Hollow. 

We just came from that direction. I didn't want to go back. But everyone pressed on to follow the aging trail, and I had little choice but go along. I was sticking close to Krell, who was feeling a lot better and had at least some magic back, and Kronk. Kronk, Krell, me and Majek were carrying holy water supplied by the town's cleric, Galesong had this new axe of his blessed in a temple ritual over night. Ed had a lot of burning arrows ready. And still, I felt we were so unprepared. 

It didn't take long for us to notice we were on the way to the ruined monastery again. Greypelt hooked up with us after a while, telling us about the undead things moving in the forest. His pack stayed away from them. We heard all the lumber camps had been attacked as well, but the lumberjacks were now moving back to town. We also found the remains of eaten animals several times. And a very old, long abandoned graveyard where we saw the same signs of undead activity as back at the town's graveyard. Here we saw that part of the trail went south, and some tracks went north with the others. That at least explained where the other attackers had come from, yet why those would attack town while they were so far away while those closer to Falcon's Hollow would not, I didn't get. 

We were watched that night by a pack of wolves and a fox – Ed had brought Mewina, so he had named his new companion, along this time. I was again surprised to be able to sleep at all in this situation, but maybe those weird dreams I am now having had something to do with that. And once more, I could not remember any of them when I woke. 

We found ourselves covered under a sheet of snow. The night had brought light snowfall that had lasted all night. The world looked really beautiful, and one could almost forget the peril the area was in. But the closer we got to the monastery we already knew and hoped not to return to, the more my hope that this would all end well died. We felt like being watched, and there were tracks looking somewhat like wolf, not from the pack accompanying us. The weird thing was they crossed the tracks of the undead, which were stll easily recognizable despite the fresh snow. Ed says it is unusual, because most living things avoid the undead. It is a survival instinct. Greypelt said he had an idea who the stranger was. 

Close to the monastery, we were hailed by the being that had left the tracks. It claimed to be friendly towards us and wanted assurance we would not harm it. We agreed, and a black furred wolf showed himself, claiming to be the former animal companion of a druid of Erastil. His name, he said, was Lucimar, supposedly transformed by a wave of energy running through the land. We then could see his paws looked a lot like hands, just like the tracks we had seen. Then he asked us to help with the undead plague and whatever caused it. He also said that, if we could not manage that, we should come back here and kill him as he fears the evil would take him over. 

That was when Greypelt and his pack, who had been scouting, caught up with us. They immediately attacked him, and Grepelt shouted that Lucimar was a liar, an undead former human. Then something really weird and scary, at least to me, happened. The black wolf sat up and moved his paws, mumbling a spell! 

Krell shouted a warning, but for some of the wolves, Kronk and Galesong, it was too late. A ball of fire washed over the area, burning the hairs of Krell's and my face. Ed had ducked behind some boulders just in time, and Majek was still behind us so he didn't even lose any hair. And the wolf-thing was going into another spell again. 

From behind us came a snowball and hit the thing right in the eye. Whatever spell it had planned to prepare, for now it had lost concentration. This also broke my senseless staring. Without conscious thought, I took one of the flaming arrows, lit it and hit the thing somewhere in the back. The burning arrow bounced off from an unseen shield, but by then Krell was next to the not-so-wolf and attacked it with one of the longswords from the tomb. Majek shouted for him to go out of the way, and the remaining pack wanted to attack again. 

Our foe had regained his concentration, and the wolves and most wargs dropped like flies, seemingly sleeping., Greypelt, two of his wargs and Krell were the only ones unaffected. They didn't leave the abomination a chance for any more spells. It was not even able to lift another of his hand-paws again. 

By then, I saw Kronk getting up from where the middle of the fireball had been. I was astonished to see him uninjured. I later found out fire immunity was his bargain from his first time turning into a dragon the way Brenn had turned into Krell and kept some of his shadow abilities. Galesong crawled out from under the kobold, all his hair burned off and his face red, and of course covered in dirt. He hesitated only a moment before he, with his axe, joined the fray and gave the wolf-thing a good going for. 

The thing bit Krell in the leg, and a second later it seemed to be perplexed about something. Krell later said it had tried to suck his life out of him, some form of vampiric touch. But as Krell being part shadow creature, it had a different effect on the attacker. I'm not sure what exactly, but they had little issue to finish the thing off after that. Krell was, of course, still limping.

The end result were 5 dead wolves, 2 badly injured wargs and some not so badly injured wolves. We found one of the wargs was the animal version of some sort of shaman – I have no idea how magical beasts call it – and could treat them somewhat. The pack would not, in any case, go down with us so after we helped with 2 healing potions – much to my worry as we didn't have that many to begin with, they cost a lot in Falcon's Hollow – and treating Krell's wound, we moved on. Kronk looted the dead thing's body, something I could not bring myself to do. We left Ed's fox with the pack for safekeeping, she was scared beyond being useful. 

I walked as if in a dream like now. The world around me felt unreal. It was, for some reason, made worse by the empty tunnels and corridors of what had been the truescale tribe's home. Yet as we came to the cave in that used to block the way below, we felt watched, and it was not long before we saw shadows poking out of the walls, watching our every move. They didn't attack, but that didn't make their presence any easier to bear. And then we found the cave in had been dug out, and there was now a tunnel leading to a hole in the ground. That's where the undead tracks were leading. 

Under the hole, we could see water reflecting our torch light. It didn't seem deep, or else the undead wouldn't have been able to get out. Of course we had brought ropes and, with Krell and Galesong going first and me last, we went down to what could very well be our doom. We left the rope where it was, in the hopes it would be still there upon our hopeful return. 

The round room we were in now smelled musky and was somewhat slimy, and the water was definitely not clean. We turned to the only exit leading south. My mind focused on being happy about waterproof boots at the time. Strange what one remembers in such evil situations. 

That's when the hissing started. We saw the dead eyes set into the wall of the shaft the same time we saw 3 strange, skeleton-like things with the tentacle things coming from their bodies rising from the water. As we hurried out of the water, Galesong and Krell covered our backs, but the bard was still not good with the axe and Krell had trouble finding balance with his injured leg. We somehow made it to dry ground in the corridor. Galesong fell down, the back of his clothes torn, and he was bleeding. I remember vaguely that one of the tentacles had grabbed him. Majek was right next to him forcing a healing potion down his throat, and I was thinking that the day would not end well if we had to use those all up right at the beginning. 

Majek threw a bottle of acid right after he had helped the bard. It hit the first 2 of the things right in the chest. At first we thought it would not work, but then sickly smoke started to rise and the things began to dissolve. I didn't see the rest of the fight because I had to vomit rather violently at the stench and the view. Next I knew I was being pulled into the next, cone shaped room where there were large iron gears at the entrance. I could hear the low clicking sound, and all I could think of was TRAP. 

I was almost right. It seemed the trap had been sprung before, but the the undead horde was now using the mechanism to fight us. 6 huge pendulums with blades sharp as death's scythe were swinging down on where we stood. Ed, who had pulled me, Galesong, Kronk and me were able to duck under them and move backwards out of their reach. Our two larger friends only had the opportunity to jump forward into the room. We were suddenly separated. There were 6 undead between two large statues at the other end of the room, but before I could try and identify them, they must have done something to trigger the next part of the trap, because spikes were shooting out from above the statues. We are mostly lucky, as the pendulums blocked most of them, only scratching Kronk in an ineffective way and tearing a hole in Galeson's tunic, which was already ruined anyway. But we heard the sound of the projectiles hitting Majek's armor, sticking in the leather and bouncing off the helmet. Some were also bouncing off Krell's armor, but we knew at least one must have hit because we heard him cry out. 

I had a clear feeling of doom, of being hopelessly outnumbered and probably outclassed. If only Mook, Bjön and Zayel would be with us. Self pity? Maybe but it was what my mind was focusing on. So much that I hardly noticed Galesong rolling under the pendulums to join the big ones, or Kronk following him a moment later. The two made it seem so easy, which was part of why I didn't notice first as my eyes were fixed on the swinging blades. There was blood on them, I was sure of that even in the dim light. 

The stench of ghoul was in the air, and I remembered the holy water we brought. But to use it, I needed to get past the pendulums. Judging by their motion, they would take a while to stop, at which point it would be too late. I heard Ed grumble next to me, and then he, too, dived between the pendulums, almost getting cut in two. I think I might have shrieked at that point because there was a high voice coming from somewhere. 

I closed my eyes, slowly counting to 5, but the loud sound of something big falling down confused me. Between the advancing horde, I could see some wall or door was now blocking the other way out. Now they had us locked in, too. But I also heard hissing sounds and saw the rotting meat of two of the abominations melt away. Right, the holy water. I should have done something then but suddenly told myself it was fine to sit this one out, because there would probably be a lot more of them and we would need some of the holy water later. I closed by eyes like the coward I sometimes am and tried to pretend the others would be fine in any case. 

I couldn't shut out Galesong's voice though. 

_"You'll never take us by surprise_
_We will poke out those undead eyes_
_Who woke you up when you were dead?_
_Here, try to walk without your head._
_Forever sleep, forever sleep."_​

It sounded as if he was making it up on the spot. But it was giving me something to focus on, and once I did that, I could push the panic back long enough to lay flat on the floor and then roll under the blades to where the others were. 

The awful stench seemed even worse where we were now. But I guess seeing the ghouls just made it feel more real. I also noticed Krell bleeding from several wounds, and his ability to cast any spells was out of the window. I could see that from the look on his face. The bard was trying to stop the bleeding and assess the damage, while Kronk and Majek had found a wheel behind one of the statues which would open the door to the south again. I guess I had somehow hoped the door would not open and we could turn around, but it opened easily and a moment later, it was Krell who said we'd need to move on and be quick about it. 

We came into a large room with a grid of pillars surrounded by benches and 6 statues at the end. There was writing on the pillars, and in some places where mistakes had been made, some square slabs of stone had been put over the errors to wipe them. It somewhat reminded me of my school days. Both Galesong and Krell tried to decipher the words, but all they could find out was that it was connected to the Shining Crusade somehow and talked of the battle. Weird thing to find down there, I thought. 

To the very back of the room was a headless corpse of a dwarf, moving only a little. Galesong and Krell agreed that it was not really animated, but something must have stirred it. Krell guessed some negative energy outburst while Kronk took it as a spell gone wrong. We ignored the thing, not wanting to waste any time or risk a trap of a sort we couldn't fathom. 

A door to the right was closed off, but to the left, which was eastward, was an open corridor. There was also a smaller corridor going southwards. Kronk and Galesong insisted we'd check out the locked place first, so to not risk anything to fall in our backs. Good advice, I think, but I was shaky and needed several attempts to open the lock mechanism. And then I wish I hadn't. The undead thing behind in a small room will probably give me nightmares forever. 

In the middle of the room stood the disfigured corpse of what, by the tattered robes, looked to be a cleric of Nethys, its eyes and mouth were stitched shut with coarse cord. In one of its desiccated  hands, it clutched a weird metal cage with a rotting dwarf’s head bolted within. We knew we had found the missing part of the body outside. The room was otherwise empty, as if the creature were imprisoned here or locked up for safekeeping. And I was willing to turn back and lock the door again for good. Yet, Majek and especially Galesong, who was really scaring me with his reckless behavior, had other ideas. They rushed right past me and bumped Kronk out of the way, too, and began hacking the thing to pieces. It was unarmed save for the horrid sounds it made which made me freeze in place. The cage with the head knocked the bard on the head and he dropped unconscious. Krell shouted a warning and Majek barely escaped being scratched by the thing. Mummys, and this was one, spread diseases, so being injured by one was to be avoided. I tried to move backwards but bumped into Krell, who concentrated on a spell but couldn't focus. However, Majek managed to decapitate the corpse just them and it turned to dust. 

There we were staring at the cage with the head while the bard came to with a groan. Krell took the cage and turned it, and we saw it had opened up, which caused some weak jokes about head to head combat and hard halfling skulls. Krell ignored all of it, took the cage and went out to the corpse. As he neared it, a headless ghost of sorts appeared behind him, reaching for him. But the moment the head touched the body, both crumbled to dust and the ghost vanished. If anything, I remember thinking, our actions had brought someone rest. 

We decided to keep going south and ignored a corridor going east a few meters in, too, although we kept glancing back. The passage emptied into an octagonal chamber. Vaulted crawlspaces sealed with iron bars were in the northwest, northeast, southwest, and southeast corners. In the center of the  room stood another statue, it was of a priest, dressed in formal robes with his head bowed. A set of double doors exited from the southernmost side. As we went through, some shadow things attacked Krell and Majek, who were front. Majek, who was by now sure the long swords from the Azlanti tomb came with a boon against undead – which is really funny considering how we found them – stabbed right through them and indeed caused them to shriek back. They could not touch Krell at all, and i don't know if they were in any way intelligent but it seemed to confuse them. Strangely, I felt no fear this time, just some impatience to move on. Majek was done soon enough.

The smaller crawlspaces were ossuaries for the bones of four workers who perished during the  Seal’s construction. It was written there in an old dialect but Galesong could read it. They had been risen as skeletons, but posed no threat as they had no way to get past the iron bars locking them in so Majek just smashed them to pieces. The doors at the south end of the room opened to a staircase that lead down. Again it was decided we would need to check out all of this level first to not be ambushed later. So we went back to the corridor leading east before going back to the pillar room. Kronk guessed that it would eventually lead to where the wide eastern corridor had gone from that place. As a kobold, he knew how such places were usually constructed so we trusted him. 

Eventually, the corridor split in three directions. To the east was an alcove with a small waterfall spilling from the open mouths of four carved human faces, collecting in a small stone pool beneath. To the north a massive ten-foot-square slab of solid granite rested in a wheeled track permitting it to slide left or right to allow or deny access to the northern hallway. It was slightly ajar. The south passage ended in an iron-reinforced wooden door emblazoned with six prayers of Aroden, as the bard and Kronk explained. That was a good thing, it meant whoever build all this was not an evil sort. 

The water in the fountain was holy water. Krell could identify it by looking at it. He says it is the shadow plane taint making it look very bright to him. We could replenish all the used up holy water ammunition as Majek, as always, had plenty of vials with him. It calmed us a lot knowing that we weren't without our best defense. 

We moved north first, past the stone slab and carefully closed it behind us, trying not to make too much noise. We were all exhausted, and we guessed it was already late evening. Krell and Galesong, who had a headache but refused a potion on the grounds that sleep would fix it all, needed rest most. It was now impossible to not make camp down here. 

But first we came to a kaput room. Toppled scaffolding and shelves filled what seemed to have been a  workroom with their skeletal wreckage, and miscellaneous tools were scattered across the floor. Extensive structural damage had collapsed the east wall, entirely transforming it into a pile of rubble leading to a natural cavern beyond. Shards of metal sculpture poked from beneath the rubble. Beyond the hole in the east wall we could hear the eerie sounds of suffering. I felt ice cold, and I think at least Ed felt the same way. 

To distract myself and to not have to follow if the others wanted to check it out, I searched the rubble. To my surprise, I actually found something. It was a beetle shaped large pin shimmering in silver and gold. Krell knew what it was, a golembane scarab. I had never heard of such a thing before. He said it could detect golems close by if the wearer concentrated, and it would help fight them, too. We didn't expect any golems down here and guessed it had been crafted in this shop and been caught in the explosion. Krell said to give the scarab to Kronk, as it would help battle golems unarmed. Kronk's face lit up in this weird kobold way as he pinned it to his monk robes. I guess he had felt somewhat useless as undead are not good to fight with shuriken and fists. Now he was probably hoping to find a golem down here to show it who is boss. 

But first he went scouting out the cave. When he came back, his eyes were wide with horror. It was an unusual sight, as he normally was calm and facing anything coming at us as if fate had no surprises for him. But he was shaken now. I didn't even want him to tell, but of course he did. He said he had seen a a pit where undead workers shoved bodies and half dead people into, and when they came out again, they were undead, too. He had seen two climb out, and there were enough of them to be more than a threat. He said it looked like the next bunch would come out soon and we would need lots more holy water to deal with them. And he also pointed out that, would we defeat them, we had no way of healing the poor victims. Plus they would create new undead anyway, if this strange pit was to remain.  He was looking at Majek when he said that. 

Majek can more incredibly swift and work with good precision when he had to. He moved left and right to the damaged wall, climbed on the rubble, too, and fixed small vials with a reddish liquid with this very sticky glue he creates from bones. Alchemist's fire, I knew. Then he put some other vials in the corner of the room, produced some oil flasks and waved us back to the northern exit. "I really hope this leads back to the pillar room," he said. "Because if not, we might have trouble finding a way out."

As we were all in the north corridor, he threw the oil flasks through the broken wall – we heard them burst – and then came running for us. "Just to speed thing up," he said. A moment later, the first undead came over the rubble, and Majek used his sling with the small metal ammo to fire at the alchemist's fire vials. He missed once and had to redo it, but it worked, the undead caught fire and rushed either back into the cave, causing the spilled oil to burn up, or into the room where they eventually would make contact with what was in the corners. "Run," our alchemist suggested and so we did. 

We passed through a wide corridor and came to a crooked T-section where we could indeed see the pillar room through the western corridor. I was about to comment Kronk's sense for the layout when the explosions started. We were almost all knocked off our feet, save for Kronk. Even the corridor behind us was caved in when we got up covered in dust and looked around. There would be no more undead created in that pit. 

Despite our state, we checked out the corridor leading northeast, which brought us to a small group of ghoul things and into a weird room. Stone partitions divided this chamber into a series of interconnected rectangular-shaped rooms. Mounted to several places on the walls and floor, great iron gears were spinning slowly. Toward the back of the room a 5-foot-diameter wooden turnstile blocked a shallow alcove. 

The holy water dealt with the ghouls well enough, as everyone was too tired to fight. I was too numb to pay attention and still didn't want to use my own vials anyway. Selfish, maybe, but it later came in handy. 

The turnstile was locked and I couldn't get it to open. "Maybe better that way," Krell mumbled, and I could not agree more. There was no need to go where nothing could come out of, so we went back to the pillar room, then to the small room where the mummy had been – although I refused to go back in there at first – to lock ourselves in and rest for a few hours. And now I'm sitting here, after having volunteered for first watch so I'd escape the unavoidable nightmares for a bit longer, almost scared stiff. Maybe in a few years, if I live to get out of here, I'll laugh at my cowardice. Or maybe I at least understand how come that me, of all people, who was always first in our not altogether harmless childhood adventures, could freeze up like this. I feel shamed and too worried to tell anyone how I really feel.


----------



## Lwaxy (Jun 28, 2012)

Summer, vacations and archeological digs slow this campaign down a bit, but I was at least able to get the notes from the last session, which happened without me. 

--------------------------------------------------------------


Mook had been in a bad mood since the early afternoon, from the moment on the Pathfinder emissary had shown up in their inn. As it sometimes happened, the gnome knew immediately what this man wanted and didn't like it, despite the offer in gold they got in advance for "just checking out the sewers." 

It was a bit more complicated than that, of course. An older man with an obvious mental deficit had shown up at the Pathfinder lodge a few days ago, calling himself the Prince of Augustana, which was nonsense as the city never had had any prince. What was even weirder was that the unknown man, calling himself Gandros, had a wayfinder, one of those compasses Pathfinders got, and he considered the Pathfinder symbol the sign of his father's empire. Supposedly, he had been attacked by some sort of otherworldy killer when he was gathering "his army" and barely made it to the surface for the first years in what must be decades judging from the look of him. At least that was what the emissary said. 

It was clear to all of them that the Pathfinder Lodge considered this more of a nuisance than anything else. Except that the self styled prince also went on about a supposed gateway to "the otherworld." To make it nor their business while still getting the info, they just wanted to hire someone to check into it. And the 3 of them had been picked because of a certain elf who happened to know the Venture Captain had casually mentioned how helpful they had been in eradicating "some evil in a hill cave." 

Going into the sewers didn't sound appealing, but the pay was. After all, Zayel's father had kept most of their valuables in the inn with him when he didn't accompany them to the island – that seemed a long time ago all of a sudden, even when it was just a few weeks – and their friends had kept most of the treasure from the island in a bag of holding Majek or Zaza usually carried. Their new friend Tiva had little money to begin with. Somehow, they would need to feed themselves, as Mook's divinations wouldn't raise enough, and work for the exhibition was scarce in winter. 

After Zayel had accepted the mission for them, Mook had been withdrawn and silent. Since she was using the magic ring most of the time, she usually talked a lot, just like most gnomes. Very unlike the time when she was stuttering. The oracle insisted she knew there was no portal and that it would be a waste of time and energy, not to talk of putting themselves into harms and filth's way. But she was coming along, of course, if just to make sure nothing happened to her friends. But Zayel thought he had heard her muttering about "not our destiny" and "too much to do to waste time like that" under her breath while they had made their way to the sewer entrance later the afternoon. He would have to inquire about the meaning of that later. 

They had been warned about a gang called Steel Wyverns, a once mighty group now fallen into disarray who had taken to the sewers. Supposedly, that was the only real concern, and they had been assured that "with a bit of magic and show" those elements could be chased off. 

"So this is where we go in?" Tiva asked confidently. Ever since she had reunited with her eidolon, she was different, more outgoing and curious. 

The three-quarter-elf stared at the door leading down to the setting pools and took a deep breath, knowing it would be the only clean air he would get for a while.  "Yeah, let's just get it over with, Maybe it won't take too long."

Mook was already slipping through the door she had pushed open a bit. As most entries, it wasn't locked. Still not talking, the gnome's eyes stared at them from the shadows, and so the others followed with silent sighs. It was not pleasant when their friend was in such a mood. Even her wolf had refused to go with her. 

Slippery stairs were leading down only a short way, and then they were already at the settling pools. The smell of waste and rot was strong in the large chamber where filthy water flowed in a series of cascades between tiered stone tanks. A raised platform along the east wall was connected to the  passage’s walkways by several  thick wooden planks creating a makeshift bridge. On that platform was what looked to be a makeshift alchemy lab on a rough-hewn table. Beakers, glass vials, dirty bottles, and moldy buckets covered the entire surface of the table.

And they were not alone. Immediately as they entered, heads turned towards them from where 2 rugged humans were sitting on a wooden bridge; a tall human with greasy brown hair in tattered robes was bent over the table, slowly pouring two mixtures together. "Firedrake," one of the men in rugs alerted what seemed to be their leader. "We got some rats visiting us. Let's get their stuff and chase them out."

This wasn't starting too well. "You are some of those Steel Wyverns, right?" Zayel asked in an attempt to ease the situation. "We have no issues with you, we just need to pass through."

"No one passes our territory. Hand over your stuff and run, or else." The two had gotten up from the bridge and were going around the pools towards them. Their leader had finished with his work and slowly turned, grabbing hold of a bottle. It looked like he had the means of alchemical attacks. 

"Or else what?" Tvia's eidolon, who was accompanying them, asked innocently. "You will fall into the sewers to never been seen again?" As they had already noticed in the past few days, Onu had a way to express its thoughts that could infuriate anyone. Especially thugs. 

"Get them," Firedrake said with a grating voice. 

But Zayel had already readied a sleep spell. When the two thugs noticed the glittering air in front of them, it was already too late. Tumbling over one another, they came to rest at the foot of the wooden stairs. One of them almost fell into the dirty water and would surely have drowned. 

Unfortunately, their alchemist didn't look like he'd be so easy to take. He frowned in disgust and then a small bag was flying through the air, right at Zayel. "Watch it," Mook growled, but Zayel was already jumping back. The bag burst open, revealing a sticky mass which would have surely glued him to the ground. 

"Oooh, it's throwing toys," the eidolon squealed in its weird voice. Sometimes Zayel wondered if the magical being was voicing the secret thoughts of its mistress. "Lookit lookit, it throws another!"

The alchemist hesitated, noticing the eidolon for the first time. He frowned, then he quickly grabbed a bag´of old stained leather with his free hand, the alchemist's fire – for that was what Zayel took the liquid in the flask to be, having seen his friend making it several times – outstretched in the other. Quickly, he stowed a book and several flasks and ingredients into it, which was difficult to do. Mook used the opportunity to jump over the sleeping figures and limping towards him. She pointed the brand new cane-like staff at him she had acquired earlier today from a magic shop downtown. 

The nerves of the gang member were already tight, with knowing that there was an arcane caster of some kind and a definite summoner in front of him; he recognized the oracle for what she was and threw the flask at her. Then he threw another flask down right in front of him and seemed to be caching away more of his things. 

Smoke was rising around him as Mook deflected the alchemist's fire with his staff back at him. Right when they saw him running over the bridge, which creaked in a worrisome way, the flask turned the makeshift table into a mass of flames. Whatever had been left on there was now lost. 

"To think they'd only have to let us pass," the eidolon squeaked again. "What a silly bunch."

"Onu has a point," Zayel grinned to overplay his nervousness. "Now, if those were all we had to worry about we should be fine."

"There'll probably be more of them," Mook mumbled, more to herself, before moving on deeper into the sewers. Rolling his eyes, Zayel grinned at Tiva, and they followed. 

A bit ahead was a junction where a smaller sewer line once joined the main passage. The ceiling of the smaller passage had partially collapsed, filling most of  that tunnel with rubble. The surface of the rubble pile seemed to shift strangely and closer examination revealed thousands of tiny vermin fleeing into cracks and shadows.

"Not that way, for sure, this has been caved in for a long time," Zayel pointed out. "Let's move on ahead."

Tiva shivered. "I don't like creeping things too much, so we better move quickly lest they come after us."

Soon they reached another intersection. Graffiti covered the walls here. Some of it was a repeating picture of a badly drawn wyvern in grey paint, probably the symbol of the gang they had encountered. There was also a skull with insects warning of the cave in place. The last one remarkable was the image of a bowl with a coin in it, with a key painted under it. The arrow drawn on the key pointed south. 

"A beggar's sanctuary, I guess." They had heard of those existing in almost every larger town. "What if that wannabe prince came from there? Or maybe they would at least know them?"

Tivva frowned at the idea of encountering smelly beggars but she didn't say anything. Her dislike was visible on her face as she held their glow rod up to see better. "As you said, let's get this over with." Holding her nose, she moved into the direction of the arrow. 

Slowly, they got somewhat used to the terrible smell, as long as they didn't look to closely at what was drifting in the water. Eventually, taking some turns and twists, a faint light was starting to grow in the dark. Slowly it resolved into a crude lantern held by a toothless old beggar who held a chair leg in his other hand. Beside him stood a scrawny youth, similarly armed but obviously terrified. Behind the two derelicts was an open door bearing the symbol of the beggar’s bowl, coin, and key. The old man eyed  them warily as they approached.

"Hi, there," Tiva smiled while trying to ignore her own worries. "We are looking for some information, maybe you could help?"

“If yer intentions be peaceful, Abadar makes you welcome.” The old guy squinted at them and pointed inside. Looking at each other and shrugging, the 4 of them entered. 

Beyond the door, a short flight of steps led up into what appeared to be the basement crypt of a  church of Abadar. Perhaps two dozen beggars huddled among sarcophagi, some sleeping, some haggling over bits of junk or scraps of food laid out on blankets. Tiva's face fell. For all her dislike of unclean people, she also pitied them. 

A tall man in clean robes wearing a plain copper mask walked among the desolate group. He turned as he heard them and regarded them coolly. “If you respect this sanctuary, I offer you what sanctuary I can. Otherwise, begone!”

"Not the friendliest chap," Zayel mumbled so that only they could hear. Tiva was not frazed, playing on her natural ability to make people feel at ease and not threatened. "Hello," she smiled again. "We aren't here for sanctuary, just for information about someone who was wandering the streets of Augustana."

"A lost soul? Some confused member of this flock, maybe?" With a bit more interest, the masked man came closer. 

Taking over from Tiva, Zayel began to retell the story of Gandros and his royal attitude. Recognition seemed to appear in the man's eyes, but with the mask it was hard to tell. "Gandros," he said. "Know him, have helped him. Unfortunate, sad story, all of it. I could tell you all about it if we had time."

"See, that was not so hard," Tiva turned to the still sour Mook. 

"If we had the time," the masked man repeated. "Which we don't. Unless you could help us, maybe? You have an eidolon, so you must be a magic type, and that gnome is an oracle if I have ever seen one. The Steel Wyverns will be here in under 2 hrs to ask for more protection bribe than we could ever afford." He basically spat the words. "They would destroy all we build, and us on top of it."

"They didn't seem so tough back at the setting pools," the eidolon squeaked up. "But then, you are a ragtag bunch, not like us!"

"Sorry about his rudeness," Tiva blushed. "Onu hasn't learned about when to shut up yet."

"Those people, they are sick." The oracle was standing at the blankets in one of the corners where 3 men were shivering from fever. 

The masked man nodded briskly. "Filth fever. I can't bring a healer here, and I'm not good at it, unfortunately."

Mook sat next to one of the men and grabbed her staff. A mild yellow light was flowing around her, the staff and the sick man. "What is she doing?" the masked man asked. 

"I am not sure," Zayel admitted, as Mook was keeping a lot of secrets lately. "But usually, when there is this golden light, it turns out alright." He grinned at the thought of what had happened on the island with the undead dragon. 

"So, this gang who bullies you," Tiva interrupted. "They will be here soon, yes?" Her eyes danced around the room. "We might want to make a nice little surprise for them. Do you still have some of the paint you used to paint your signs in the tunnels? And are the covers of the sarcophagi removable?"

"Yes, but what...?"

"Show me the paint," the girl grinned. "You'll see."



Some time later, laughter and footsteps could be heard approaching from the west.  A voice called out.  “Almsman!  What say you? Are you resisting or giving us what we want? I hope you’re resisting!”

"That's dumb," Onu whispered to its mistress. "If he wants them to resist, they already give him what he wants, and that.. that... that's confusing!"

They were mostly huddled together with some of the beggars and the masked man – who was, as they knew by now, known as the Almsman – behind the last sarcophagi in the room. Everything smelled awfully of blood, thanks to a whole lot of dead rats who had donated their innards to decorate the room with. Leftover red paint made it appear as if there was a lot more blood. 

"Hey, boss? Where are they? What's that smell? "Randalan? What happened here?" The thugs hesitated, not seeing any light and entering a scene that looked highly suspicious. 

"I don't know," the voice they heard first answered them. "But I detect no magic. Wait, let me cast some light..."

That had to be avoided, so Tiva and Zayel gave the agreed on signal to the others. With a high pitched sigh, Tiva got up, exposing her body and especially her heavily make up covered face – it pays when a girl has all her utensils with her, as she always said – to the meager light coming from one cast aside glow rod. Zayel, equally masked, stood up from behind a pile of rugs, waving a red painted arm around. And a moment later, the lids of the sarcophagi shifted, revealing paint covered beggars also dressed up like zombies. 

Randalan, the leader of the Steel Wyverns, heard his people cry in panic and found himself alone, the echoes of running feet still in the tunnel, before he could do anything with his bardic abilities. For a moment longer, he seemed to be ready to face the supposed undead alone, but then he forgot about casting light or doing anything else but following the rest of his gang, cursing loudly after banging the door shut. 

Silence fell as the people inside listened for any sign of them returning. Then they broke out in cheers and laughter. The Almsman lit the light again, staying rather calm. "I guess that worked for now," he stated the obvious. "But the clean up will be annoying."

"Not so much," Zayel grinned. "I have a few spells for that." 

"We will have to face them again, though."

"Yes," Mook said, still frowning. "But by then,you can summon up a better defense, maybe some real spells and bells."

Not too much later, the cleaned up group had gotten directions to where the so-called prince's place was. Apparently, they had known the mad man for decades down here, and many beggars and other mad men believed his nobility story. The Almsman’s directions led to a heavy wooden door. A sign 
on the door was partially obscured by grime and moss, and the word “Skytower” was still barely legible. Zayel pushed the door slightly and found it unlocked. "Shall we?" he asked, sounding a bit worried this time. 

They now entered a room which was once clearly the basement of a building above, but the stairs in the far corner were now choked with charred rubble and seemed to lead to a new stone foundation of the new building above. Odd furniture and knick-knacks of all description filled the remaining space, and strange winged effigies made of wood and broken pottery were arrayed in a bizarre diorama. The focal point of this display were a pair of chairs standing on different-sized piles of old crates like thrones on a dais. A charred and shriveled corpse dressed in rotting and burnt finery and wearing a tin crown was propped up in one of the chairs while the other, lower chair, sat vacant.

"Now that is strange," Tiva mumbled, barely able to not show her disgust at the corpse. The eidolon had no such reservations and went right over, reading what was written on the tin crown. "Emperor Relios." It grinned. "Hey, maybe this was some ruler after all."

"With a tin crown? Unlikely." Zayel refused to come nearer but instead checked out a desk with partially rotten logs and journals. "Seems this was once some sorts of trading place called Emporium. My guess is the so-called prince got a lot of things wrong. If he's been down here for decades, then he must have been a child when this happened." He pointed to the corpse.

"Probably the old building burned down?" Tiva suggested. 

"Yes," Mook agreed. "So much confusion here. So much..." She grabbed her head for a moment and shook it. "Not our destiny," she repeated almost inaudible. 

"I think this is a diary of sorts," Zayel said, holding up a tattered volume. "From the dead guy, it looks like."

They were able to pinch the story together. Wealthy businessman and former Pathfinder, who doubled as drug dealer supplying something called yellowcap dust produced from mushrooms to nobles. Eventually, his past caught up with him and his enemies burned everything down, with him and his young son still inside. So here they came, and the father, as obvious with the corpse, died an unpleasant death leaving his son all alone and too scared to go topside ever again. 

"What a sad story." Tiva looked around a bit more. "Look, the other rooms are full of those mushrooms."

"And I bet the boy ate some of them, causing delusions and his eventual madness. We should burn them," Mook decided. "Even if they are out of fashion they might still harm someone."

"And I can't detect any magic here, except for those few items," he pointed at a assorted mix of debris and some stuff that looked useful, "so just let's take the journal and this stuff and go," Zayel agreed. 

"Did you hear that?" Mook pointed to the rooms with the mushrooms. 

Now Zayel could hear it, too. Some sort of growling. As he stepped closer to see what it was while securing everything he thought could be of value, he nearly slipped on an empty piece of paper looking surprisingly like a used scroll. "Uh... someone cast something, and not too long ago as there is no dirt on the paper," he said, pointing to the now useless scroll. 

"You don't think this prince guy..." Tiva started, but right then the growling turned into a howl.

"Out!" Mook ordered. She had absolutely no idea to wait for what was coming – from the heavy steps more than one being – when they didn't have a single real fighter among them. The eidolon stared for a while longer, then it followed its master. 

Large , pale shapes clearly looking like monsters not from this world came out of the back rooms. The only thing Tiva, who was looking back for Onu, could really make out in the mushroom dust now coming out of the rooms, were large red eyes and a whole lot more teeth than a decent being should have. She banged the door close and leaned against it for a moment. "Will they follow us?"

"Don't ask, just let's go!" Zayel was already on the way back where they had come from. 

"We can't leave those things down here!" Tiva and Onu were bringing up the rear. 

"Normally," Mook gasped, trying to keep up with the larger folk, "I'd agree with you. However, we don't even know what those are, and it is not our problem! Let someone else handle this!" 

Noticing the things didn't follow, Zayel slowed down. He could barely breathe anymore in the stink down here, and he felt dizzy. "I agree. No telling what spells would work on them and which wouldn't, and if I'd have anything ready to deal with them anyway."

"Look at the bright side," Mook told Tiva, who looked somewhat defeated. "Maybe they'll eat the rest of the Steel Wyverns."

"It is just..." Tiva hesitated, feeling silly. 

"I know,'" Mook said. "You were made to run back up the hill with the drow, and you certainly didn't want to come over like a coward again."

"Yes, somewhat." The human girl was surprised the gnome understood her so well. "I'm supposed to do better than this."

"No, you are not." Mook, still at the rear, kept looking back as they walked on. "Not everyone can do everything perfect. By the gods, I can't even talk straight without magic help! You did just fine, sister, and Onu, too. Look at it this way .- drow supposedly do not exist, so there was no one you could have ran from."

"At least, there is no portal down here anywhere, I'd have felt that." They passed the beggar's area and went back towards the setting pools. "Maybe you were right, Mook, and we shouldn't have done this to begin with. I hate sewers." 

Mook shook her head. "No, you were right, Zayel. We need to get money from somewhere until we meet up with the others. But let's stick with stuff we can definitely handle. And maybe, you could stock up on some spells usable in fights. Or scrolls with them."

"You know what happens when I try to make scrolls or potions," Zayel mumbled. 

"I don't." Tiva looked curious. "What happens?" 

"You see, he wanted to be such a great wizard right when we were very young, so scrolls and potions was something he tried right away. It all started on a rainy afternoon in autumn, when..."

Zayel sighed inwardly, wishing that Mook's ring would somehow fail, but of course it did not and the gnome was able to relay the whole of the embarrassing story.


----------



## Lwaxy (Jul 4, 2012)

Zaza's diary, 9th of Abadius, a few days after the described events. 



We went down to the next level after a fitful rest. I thought I had gotten over my worries from yesterday, at least I tried to convince myself that I had. But this level was something else. It was like the air was thick with evil, as if we were breathing it in. To do anything at all was a much harder task than a few steps up. Except Edawon and the bard, we were all thinking of going back and find someone better than us to take care of it. 

We were now in a bell-shaped foyer that opened into a broad rectangular chamber with wickedly  spiked walls. The rectangular section recessed into the floor almost five feet below the foyer, creating a tiered section of ledges adorned with rows of statues. In the center of the room, a three-foot-tall iron furnace stoodds atop a marble dais belching out gouts of toxic-looking smoke. A moat filled with a curious bubbling liquid surrounded the smoky brazier. 

Me and Majek went to disable the furnace – Majek because he's almost completely immune to toxic smoke thanks to a spell from a long while back, me because I'd just good with disabling or enabling devices. It sure paid to hang out with gnomes a lot. 

So far, so good. We checked out the south exit of the room but after we heard some strange noises and smelled a lot of candles – or so it appeared to me anyway – we decided to go west instead. We had to walk through a puddle at an intersection were we could have gone south again, but we decided to stick with west for now. Edawon says it is not good to keep changing your direction in an unknown complex and I guess he's right with that. 

By the time we entered the next room, we felt a bit paranoid thanks to the atmosphere. Majek was sure we were watched, Kronk was at one point sure someone was even following us. None of that was true, it seems, but were were all very nervous. Ready to jump at shadows, as Mook's mom used to say. I wish Mook had been around, I'd felt less confused. 

Well, this next room – with no other exit so we had to go back later – held the strangest thing. In the center of a maybe thirty-foot-diameter antechamber was a large green transparent crystal. Large iron chains extended from the crystal into the ceiling, holding it a few feet above the floor. Within the crystal was a heavily tattooed man we quickly identified as a priest of Pharasma, dressed in a hooded robe of archaic style. A piece of the crystal was broken off, exposing the man’s hand, and tiny fragments of the broken crystal were scattered about the floor. 

At first we thought the man had been caught in a trap, but then we felt a presence in our mind talking to us. The man was actually alive, and immortal, too. He identified himself as the Hanging Seer. No name, if you ask me, but maybe he had forgotten his name and part of his other faculties in the long solitude. Because a mind can just not stay sane in this. Because, well, he had been down here for a very long time, guarding a Seal of sorts, one of many to keep the Whispering Tyrant in. Still I cannot wrap my mind around us finding trouble connected to the Whispering Tyrant! Having been at the isle where Aroden killed him had been a big thing already, but this?

In any case, he was desperate. Some necromancer calling himself Drazmorg, an undead with no lower body, broke in here and stole all of the priest's powers and then broke the seal, a fact the Whispering Tyrant, who seems to not want to stop existing, is aware of it and might use the fool necromancer to break the others, too. What was worse for us was that the seer said he was also possessed by an undead spirit Drazmorg bestowed on him to keep him under watch. Which meant, of course, that we weren't so paranoid now to think we had been noticed. 

We had just come to that conclusion when the seer twisted and grimaced, and something came out of his mouth. I have later been told it was a wraith of sorts, because I fainted. Edawon tells me that is because the thing went for me first and actually touched me, but I do not remember this. I feel weak and shaky, but I was assured it would pass over time. It did not make me any more confident then, and even now I am wondering what we were doing. We aren't up to deal with such things. At least not without the dwarf. I wonder where they are now?

If anyone else but me ever reads this, you must think I'm constantly whining over very little, but then, I am the one going through all this. So better not shake your head at me. I am the one in my shoes, and I'm just a young girl out in a world I underestimated. Maybe I'll laugh at those lines later myself, but I doubt it.

Majek seemed to be so strong in all this. When we managed to rouse the seer again, who had fallen unconscious, he was the one who promised we'd seal the caverns, as he had brought a lot of explosives just in case. And it was him and Krell who went to do just that, as we went back to the southward tunnels as the seer directed. The tunnel they collapsed led to a storage vault of undead of different kind, but they couldn't come out fast enough. Imagine a necromancer with so many undead to just store them somewhere in case you needed them! 

Sure that the explosion must have caused Drazmorg to have noticed us, we waited. But either he was too busy with whatever he was on to notice, or too confident to succeed. All that happened was that the door the southern passage ended in opened and out came  a mummy of some sorts, which strangely enough had what looked like new armor. There were so many flies around it that it was hard to see though, and the buzzing of them made me very irritated. Krell, Majek and Kronk took it on. After they hit it a few times, the flies died, which was a strange sight, all of them dropping down from one second to the next. 

The thing didn't smell any better once it was down, and I had to vomit again. Curse my weak stomach, I need to find a way around that. 

We went into the chamber the thing came out from. It had curved walls on the north  side and square corners on the south. On either side were two copper braziers partially filled with a  sour-scented oil doing  little to mask the nauseating scent of rotting flesh that seemed to seep from the shale stone walls. We left the outter door open so the scent would dissipate eventually. Nothing else was in there except another door to the south, which opened easily. 

Beyond the doors stretched an about 25-foot-long hallway. On either side, iron sconces lined the walls set five feet apart. The candles in the sconces were unlit, though wax droplets beneath them seemed to indicate they were recently extinguished. Centered on the far wall rested a five-foot-circumference stone plug, slightly recessed into the masonry. A pair of crossed iron bars mounted onto the western wall near the plug’s face formed a handle. Spiraling runes carved into the plug read “DEATH” in at least a dozen different languages. 

This, at least, is where all sensible people would run, but as I have been told as a small child already, adventurers aren't sensible people, even if they do not qualify as heroes. So I went over to look at the handle and the plug, and found out how to turn it to open the thing. Of course, it needed a lot more strength to open than I had, especially after being weakened. We got it open of course, and passed through. Majek said he would probably collapse the tunnels behind it, but we were in for yet another surprise. 

The doorway bisected a huge curved passage. Its carved cylindrical walls had thousands of Hallit runes and sigils. Galesong readily identified them. But that was not the strange part. The strange part was that there was no gravity. We started floating up, and some unseen force pulled us in a counter-clockwise drift. We could resist this, but moving against it would have been difficult so we didn't. chances were we'd end up in the same place anyway, with the passage being curved and all.

My stomach liked the loss of gravity even less than the stench before but I had nothing left to vomit out, lucky for all of us that was. 

There were some orbs in the passage, made of some sort of crystal and carved with runes. All of us knew this could not be a good thing when we saw them so we kept our distance. As they floated at the same speed than we moved, this wasn't too difficult. Kronk, Ed, me and Galesong could grab the carved walls to maneuver, Majek and Krell were too heavy to hold on to the walls long though. 

The ghouls that appeared to stop us were unable to maneuver. When the first came close to a sphere, it suddenly zoned in on it, pushed it out of the way and exploded with a strange, high pitched sound which, although almost not audible, made my head hurt. Majek did away with that ghoul with some luck in maneuvering after that, as it appeared almost done for anyway. The floating around ghoul parts were very hard to avoid, though. 

Krell found this incredibly funny, and with what seemed to be a lot of enjoyment he directed the other spheres we encountered at the ghouls. We just stayed ahead of those abominations and went around the whole circle twice before they were done for, passing a door opposite the one we had entered through in the process. Later Krell explained about the game called ghoul ball they had played at his magic academy. Except for the lack of gravity, the description came close enough to what he had done here. 

The door on the opposite had the same kind of plug but it was harder to open because of the weightlessness. Th good thing was that once inside yet another longish corridor, we were all back on our feet again. Now it was all the way back to the opposite side again, where we found yet another plug entrance. 

Majek was about to prepare his explosives here when we heard a muffled. We couldn't make out the words, but for some reason, Krell was drawn by them and started to open the plug. Before we could stop him, the darn thing opened and exposed us to a sight I could have once more done without.

The opening led into a rotunda formed from tremendous limestone blocks. A ten-foot-tall dais rose from the center of the room, supporting a concentric mini ziggurat of layered, rune-covered gear. Even those of us with no magic could feel the supernatural energy pulsing from the thing.

On either side of the dais, a half-flight of stairs ascended from the floor to the largest gear. Colored chalk streaked the walls, floor, and ceiling with arcane symbols and patterns, and sickly-scented oils burned from careful placed braziers made from human skulls. Scattered throughout the room flopped the decaying parts of dozens of battered undead corpses, all bearing bloodless gashes and sundered limbs These flopped and undulated unnaturally, scattered like fish in a net.

Above  the  strange  seal  hovered a horrifically decomposed humanoid. The lower half of his body was gone, leaving only guts and his dangling spine encased in a weird, glass-like receptacle filled with sickly-colored fluids bolted into his chest. Tubes made from intestines and other compounds rose from the fluids attaching to his face, neck, and arms. He preached loudly, bellowing obscene liturgies from a strange book to a worshipful audience of rotting corpses. Dark energies seeped from the ziggurat, caressing the surrounding undead.

I counted 8 of those gears and wondered if they could be fixed to close the seal again, although I had no idea how it had been opened in the first place. I barely noticed the dreadful thing ordering his undead to attack, or Krell being drawn by the device the same way I was. Maybe my mind tried to block out everything else to be able to deal with it. 

The mechanism was, in essence a combination lock. You could turn the cogs separately in any direction. That was good and bad at the same time, good because it meant the seal was likely still functional, and bad because we could not easily know what the combination had to be set to to close the evil energies back in. 

Krell turned to throw a spell at the advancing ghast and ghouls, and I heard Galesong starting up a song to aid us. I don't remember the details, but it was a funny song about undead stumbling through a dungeon. 

I could see where the gears had been moved. But it looked as if all of them had changed position, so again I couldn't do anything with that. But as Krell cursed next to me for discovering the same, I had an idea. "The shadow world looks like a parody of ours, didn't you say that? A darker version with different life – or unlife – forms?"

"Yeah, why?" Again, he fired a spell, but I barely noticed the heat from it. 

"What happens if something gets changed in either world?"

"In the shadow world, it will reset itself to however it is here. If something is changed here, the shadow world will adapt eventually." Somewhere, like through a veil, I heard Edawon shout out a warning, and then Majek let out a cry. 

"So, how long to adapt? Would the shadow world still have the gears in the original position?" 

Krell's eyes went wide, and a moment later, he disappeared into the shadow. Galesong's voice got louder, as if he was desperate, and then there was a small explosion and the stink of burned undead flesh. I zoned out even more, because if we could not close this we would probably all be dead anyway. 

Krell suddenly appeared again and pointed at the gears. "We need to move them not only to specific positions, but in a specific order. It keeps happening over and over in the shadow world but it hasn't stabilized there yet."

One day, I think, i want to see this shadow world myself. For now, I was just glad my idea worked. The necromancer had floated off the gears and to where the battle was. I think he hadn't even noticed us in doing so, which was just perfect. Krell gave directions, and we started moving the gears. At first, we still didn't get noticed, but then, Drazmorg let out an eerie cry and turned his cursed attention on us. 

However, we were almost done and the magic missile attack that hit Krell didn't seem to do much damage to him at first sight. He was probably still half in the shadow world to be able to see the gears there – something that took a lot of energy, he had once said, but it also protected him somewhat from injuries on either side. 

The gears turned back into place, and all of a sudden, the terrible oppression of the negative energy was all gone. It now felt like a normal, dangerous, almost suicidal dungeon exploration. Drazmorg's screeching stopped, and then there was another explosion, closer this time. I ducked out of the way as the contraption which had been the down half of the necromancer flew right at me. Majek let out a triumphant shout just before I saw him faint from a wound in his chest. Everything else was unclear until I came to my senses again in the room of the Hanging Seer.

The seer had used his powers, which were now back, to heal the wounded and disease infected among us, which´meant everyone. Majek and Kronk had been especially bad off. He could not do anything about my weakness, but also assured me it would pass. He had not expected for us to be able to destroy the necromancer, and even less to close the seal again. And he made a prophecy about us and our many friends being the destined ones, chosen to restore the world in many ways, and not always being appreciated for it. Something along those lines. I saw Kronk nodding in my direction and heard him mumble something about the thief of thieves. Majek's reaction was more like mine: "We don't need that." 

But then, doesn't this mean that we, me included, will really be heroes? Maybe I need to stop worrying. 

As I write this, we are finally back in Falcon's Hollow. There are still undead stragglers but they are taken care off one by one. The tunnels to the seal are all collapsed now, so we should be safe. For a while. Such things tend to come back to haunt the world. 

We are preparing to leave here with the children we had rescued and some of their family. Edawon, Majek and Krell all agreed it would not do to wait to spring. In a few weeks, with some luck, the snow will have lessened enough. Our only worry is how the others will find us now, but from what Kronk says his people's prophets said, we will find the others in Absalom, of all places. We'll see soon enough. 





Dwarfed by the bluffs behind and to either side, a dozen pathetic wooden buildings huddled along the shore within a small protective curve of the rocky coastline. Three  imposing islands faced the settlement through the fog. The largest, a  nearly cubic block of stone, squatted in the water like some stubborn beast. The second island sent columns of foam arcing high into the air with each breaker impacting its far side, focusing the onrushing wave into a vertical channel, and a sizzle echoed across the cove as the spray returns to the sea. The last and smallest island was remarkable only for its silhouette: two pointed boulders near its crest give it the look of a horned animal head.

"So, this is Chimera Cove," Bjön said, shivering slightly. The weather down here was warmer than in the mountains, of course, and there was little to no snow at the coast. However, the rain was icy cold, and water had a tendency to go deeper into clothes than snow, which could be shaken off. 

"It's not much," Teltz stated. "I wonder what anyone could find here that would be of any importance." He huddled into his dark blue coat as if he wanted to vanish into it completely. 

For all her being used to a much warmer climate, Pojali didn't seem to feel the cold. "Looks can be very deceiving.And we're being followed."

"What?" It was all Bjön could do not to turn around. "Any idea who and how many?"

The priestess concentrated for a moment, eyes half closed. "Just one, and a large one. Smells like bear, somehow, but then different."

Before the others could make something out of this confusing statement, a deep, grumbling voice spoke up from behind a boulder as the owner of it came into view. "That would be me. I need to talk to you before you go down there. I'm Targas, and as you can probably guess, a werebear."

Light brown fur covered a massive bear form, clad in basic leather armor and wielding a really really big axe. Targas' eyes looked friendly, but worried, and Bjön put the axe away he had drawn on instinct. "He's not evil."

"My apologies for not showing up in human form," Targas said and pointed at the sturdy but fast horses the party had been given back in the mountains. "I can't keep up with those as a human. In any case, Chimera Cove is in trouble, has been for a while, and I need help to solve the problem."

"Very direct," Pojali smiled and got off the horse. "Do you have a place nearby where we could talk?"

Not too long later, they were sitting in a comfortable cave around an even more comfortable fire, drying their things and drinking herbal tea while listening to the werebear's story. Part of it seemed like a fairy tale, one of those that almost always had a solid foundation in truth. A long time ago, the village had been founded to protect a dark secret. Recently, however, a man named Poltur, grandson of the village's founder, decided to betray the cove's secret to the now deceased Baron Vendikon, having gotten tired of sitting on a barren shore. The baron had sent some troops but it ended in disaster with Poltur barely surviving. It took a while to find out what was really needed to succeed, which is why he had sent the map the party now had and some requirements along with it. And what was worse, the village was now occupied.

"By whom?" the priestess asked, getting herself more tea. "The baron hasn't sent anyone, he's dead."

"The traitor returned with a score of hobgoblin soldiers, the village was completely  unprepared. He  rounded up everyone, and his hobgoblins are still holding them in the boathouse. I think that they’re still alive, but they must be nearly starving at this point.”

"A bad situation. Couldn't you try and get them out?" Bjön started fumbling with his holy symbol. 

"Poltur left six hobgoblins behind when he sailed off to the islands. Two of them thought they would make a patrol of the village one night, looting whatever they chose, and I killed them. Now there are  four. But four is still too many for me, when the villagers are within their reach.”

"Good point, but how come they didn't get you in the first place?" the bard wanted to know. 

The werebear, now in his human form and changed into winter robes, looked sad now. "I… am not exactly a member of the village anymore. I made the  mistake of telling Poltur of my… family’s secret. I should have known better, even then. Poltur killed a woman and made it appear as if I were  the one responsible, and the elders believed I was guilty. I have lived as an exile since then, and pieced together the truth through years of watching, but I have not returned to the village. I think many of them know I’m here, and that the woman’s death was not my doing.” He looked at the paladin. "He wants the islands’ secret. There can be no doubt. I tell you this because the village has failed in its mission to  watch over the islands and what they hold, and  you may be the last remaining hope. The village elders tell each of us, when we reach our 13th summer, that the islands hold something  dark and dangerous, and that it is our duty to watch over them and make sure the evil remains undisturbed. They likely know more. Poltur, as the grandson of the village’s founder, probably knows more as well. That secret is undoubtedly what he seeks, but I have told you all I can offer of it.  Poltur, while completely reprehensible, unfortunately is also quite a swordsman. Do not duel with him. He will kill you.”

"We are here to take care of it, one way or the other," Bjön said for all of them. "Now, how fast can you change shape? I have an idea..."



From behind a shallow ridge close to the shore, the group was watching the boathouse. This long and narrow building, easily the largest in the modest village, stretched sixty feet long and twenty-five feet wide. Simple wooden planks comprised its walls, unbroken by windows. While its front entrance was at ground level, its far end extended out over a drop off into the choppy waters of the cove, supported by thin wooden pilings. A narrow dock, tethered to the supports with stout lines, banged back and forth against them in the chop below the overhang, and two of the pilings sported regularly spaced horizontal planks, which likely served as ladders to allow access to the dock from the building. Apparently, much of the floor of the extended section was open to the water below, as the keels of three boats, slowly swinging from side to side, were visible below the bottom of the building’s walls. It appeared that the villagers hauled their boats out of the water when they were not in use, rather than trusting them to the waters of the cove.

The woman was now dressed like a priestess of Norgober, and she really looked the part. A thin, brown leather mask covered all but her eyes, and the dark brown robes she was dressed in obscured most of her figure, barely letting it show that she was female. Several daggers were hidden in her clothing and her left hand rested on a long coiled whip. On the way here, she had demonstrated her skill with this weapon a few times, and both men had been sufficiently impressed. 

The men all dressed like simple soldiers, in uniforms they had gotten from the baron's tower. The spare one they had put Targas in was a bit too short and stretched at the shoulders, but the hobgoblins were unlikely to notice. The werebear had refused to get a haircut, but that was something else the humanoids would probably not find strange. 

Nothing stirred at the boathouse, so Bjön nodded to the priestess. Pojali got up and rounded the ridge, followed by the others, who stayed several steps behind her as if she was the only one in charge. "Is someone here?" the woman said in a stern voice. "The rest of the village seems to be empty, and I would hate to have made the whole journey for nothing. The baron wants this to be seen to quickly!"

After a few seconds, the door opened a little, and a hobgoblin head peeked out. "You are the replacements?" he asked in a raspy common. "We thought there would be more of you."

"There are more of us. The rest is making camp in a cave up there." She vaguely pointed towards the cliffs. "I didn't want to bring everyone and everything down here before I knew things were fine. Things are fine, are they not?"

The hobgoblin opened the door a little wider and nodded. "Yes, we've rounded up the villagers in here so they wouldn't make any trouble. Bit boring watching them but it is at least dry."

Teltz chuckled. The rain had only stopped an hour ago. "The journey here wasn't fun, but we were all promised promotions for this. Are there any comely women among the prisoners?"

"Now now," Pojali picked up the rehearsed lines. "Work first, fun later. Let us in and tell us what you know about our job, then we decide if we can do it right now or need to get the others."

A moment later, they were allowed to enter the boathouse. Nautical gear cluttered the interior of this  narrow building. The section closest to the door was full of benches and tables covered in tools and rope, and rolled-up sails and planks were stacked against the walls and in the rafters. Beginning  25  feet from the doors, the east side of the building was open to the waters of the cove below, and three boats hung above the opening from lines running through pulleys bolted to the rafters. Two of the boats were sailboats perhaps 12 feet in length, their masts stepped, while one was a simple 8-foot-long dory. The place smelled of fish and tar, although the wind whipping past the open floor section ameliorated the stench somewhat. The prisoners were bound together into two groups of  twelve and loaded into the suspended catboats.

"We were 6 before," the commander of the hobgoblins admitted. "But something's killed off our patrol. We haven't been outside since, and we ran out of food. Maybe you can take care of whatever it was?" 

Pojali found hopeful eyes on her and pretended to consider. "Did this something leave any hints as to what it was?"

"Something big and with claws. We found the patrol torn apart." 

"A predator, maybe?" Bjön came closer to the hobgoblin leader, pretending to want to confer with the priestess. "Should we send the others to comb the village and surroundings?"

"Sounds like a plan," Pojali agreed, and then waved to the werebear. "Come on, give our allies something to eat and drink for now, it won't do for them to keel over from exhaustion."

The eyes of their foes lit up as they were handed dried meat and a bottle of rum the group had taken from one of the houses. "Now, where is the man I am supposed to report to?" Pojali looked around. 

One of the noisily eating hobgoblins pointed out over the water. "We are to pick you up and sail with you into the cove and lower that holy symbol of Iomedae into the water on that silver wire," he explained. "Only one of us is to stay and watch the villagers." He sounded very worried. 

"That would mean we'd need 2 boats, 3 if we bring the others," the werebear spoke up. "It will be difficult enough with one. I grew up on the shore, I know what I'm talking about."

"Yeah, it would be better if we'd go alone," the priestess agreed. All of the hobgoblins looked very relieved about that. 

One of them suddenly swayed, as if drunk. "Hey," he mumbled. "Something's wrong with the rum, can't be drunk from..." 

Before any of the others would get suspicious, Targas transformed, ripping the uniform apart. At the same time, Teltz' short sword went right through the bugbear next to him while Bjön's axe came out, decapitating the stumbling leader of the gang. Targas ripped the other two apart. Some of the villagers, who had barely had the energy to look up, shouted in surprise now. 

"We got what we needed from them, anyway," Pojali said, already moving to free the captives. Not too long later, the villagers stood, shakily and most of them crying, on the planks of the boathouse. It was easy to prove the party had come to help, and they recognized Targas, understanding he hadn't been a killer and was part of the reason they were rescued. Before they went off to their houses to rearm themselves and get food and rest, they confirmed the method to open up a secret port. And the elders explained that what was hidden there was an undead dragon turtle called the Terraken, created by the Chelish as a weapon of nautical warfare. 

Now things began to make sense. The baron would have loved to present this Terraken to Cheliax again. It was, however, not any less dangerous now that the baron was dead. 

"It is still early in the day," Pojali suggested. "We could get out there and start right away."

Bjön wondered about the energy the little priestess had, but he, too was eager to continue. An undead turtle was right up his alley, after all. "We didn't expend too much energy so I'm all for it."

"I'm coming with you," Targas announced. 

Teltz shook his head. "Poltur knows you. It might give us away too early. I'm sorry."

"Suppose you are right," the werebear growled. "But I really want to help."

"You can help by watching over them." Pojali pointed at the exhausted villagers now filing out of the boathouse. "They won't be able to watch out for themselves for a few days at least."

"So," Bjön stated, eying the sea suspiciously. "While I now know a bit about sailing on a river and along a shore, I'm not so confident out there."

"No need." Pojali brought out a little flask which had a blueish, swirling mist in it. "This will take us all the way there and we won't even need to touch the water but glide a few feet above."

"What is it?" Bjön stared at the bottle, intrigued. 

"It's called Mist of the Seawind. Expensive, but I found a whole box of them a while ago, and they don't conserve well so I better use them up when it makes sense. Shall we go?" Her eyes sparkled, and the dwarf suspected she was grinning under her mask. 

Floating in a boat several feet over the water was a strange sensation for everyone but the Vudrani. But they reached their destined spot, confirmed by the villagers, without incident. Pojali fixed the holy symbol to the wire and lowered it as necessary. Almost immediately, the winds and waters calmed. The spray gradually ceased and waves that were crashing against rocks now lapped placidly against them. Although the fog remained, where gaps between the shore and the islands were once visible leading out to the open sea, now stone seawalls were becoming visible, slowly rising. It quickly became clear that the seawalls were only rising a short distance and thereafter it was the water level in the cove that started to fall. More and more of the steep, rocky sides of the islands became visible, until the three islands appeared as a single connected mass. The retreating water left the dock below the village’s boathouse lying in muck. The southwestern face of the largest island revealed a large cave mouth below the low-tide mark.

"Wow," Bjön exclaimed. "Now that's something you don't see everyday."

"That neither," the bard shouted, pointing to a giant octopus, obviously disturbed by the change in the sea level. 

"No worries, it can't reach us." Pojali was simply allowing the boat to float a bit higher and faster, and directed it into the new harbor. 

This huge stone cavern reached over one hundred and fifty feet back into the heart of the rocky island. The murky waters of the cove cover the cavern’s floor to a depth of at least fifteen feet. The space  was alive with the sounds of dripping water, and the walls glistened where just a short time ago they were submerged. Barnacle colonies dot the walls, and seaweed hung limply elsewhere. While the arch of the cave mouth stood thirty feet above the water, the roof of the cavern rises as it ran into the island, reaching a height of at least seventy feet at its far end. Likewise, while the cave mouth was only thirty feet wide, the cavern expanded to several times that as they entered. To either side of the cave mouth, stone ramps five feet wide rose out of the water and clung to the cavern walls, gradually 
rising upward to end at a height of thirty five feet at the far wall. At that wall the west ramp opened into another chamber from which faint light emanated.Thick ropes hung into the water here and there, some anchored to rusting cleats set into the walls, others lying in loose coils.

Dominating the far wall were gigantic wooden double doors, twenty-five feet in height and forty feet in width, composed of planks which could be ships’ timbers, heavily reinforced with rusting steel. The top of the doors were flush with the top of the wall, while the bottom was ten feet above water level. The many barnacles indicated the door was typically submerged to a depth of twenty feet. No hinges were visible, making it appear the doors open inward.

Standing atop the far wall to either side of the giant doors was a pair of wooden and steel contraptions which resembled small siege engines. A stout wooden base supported a pivoting mechanism enclosing an open chute ten feet long and one foot in width, with attached gears used to adjust the angle of the chute. None of them could make sense of it. 

Spearfishing from the top of the lock doors were 3 hobgoblins, who now looked up as the boat slowly lowered to the water. "Hey," Pojali called out to prevent them from seeing them as enemies. "We're here on command of Baron Vendikon. I'm Pojali, Priestess of Norgober."

"Finally," one of them called back. "We've been expecting you for a while."

"We were snowed in," Pojali offered an explanation. "Winter is a bad time to travel from the mountains."

"Well, you are here now. Come on, the boss would want to see you." They pointed to where the light emanated from and barely waited for them to follow. 

The other cavern was only slightly smaller than the previous one, measuring over a hundred feet long and nearly as wide, with a natural stone ceiling over forty feet above. Aside from a twenty-foot-wide  flat stone shelf running along the northwest wall of the cavern and a much narrower shelf to the southeast, the cavern was filled with perfectly still  water, forming a most unusual port, with a fully intact fifty-foot-long ship expertly tied to the stone  pier, and a narrow gangplank leading aboard. There were no signs of activity on the ship beyond flickering, unnatural light at half a dozen points on the mast, clearly the product of magic. A plaque near the bow read “Silver Reign.” The dockside was relatively bare beyond a plenitude of rope. The water was contained at the far end by a low wall with open space beyond; like the previous cavern, the ceiling of this one extended even further into the island, angling steeply downward past the low wall as the floor dropped off into some unseen space.

"Impressive," Pojali admitted. 

"Yes, indeed. Welcome to Chimera Cove. I'm Poltur." Poltur stood on the pier at the end of the gangplank, with a slight frown as if he was listening to something else. He was a tall, tanned man in his thirties with a black eye patch over his right eye, wearing the flashiest clothes available  in  Piren’s Bluff,  as the party immediately noticed. Despite the garishness of his outfit, his every movement conveyed a precise sense of balance.

"I'm priestess Pojali," the Vudrani answered. "I was told to report to you."

"Yes, no doubt. What I need you to do first is get into the ship's hold and bring out any valuables. Can't get any more hobs to go in, and there are some things there needing the attention of a priest."

"I see." Pojali winked at the others, indicating she was expecting a trap, or several. Bjön tied their ship to the Silver Reign, and they climbed on board. The deck was completely bare under the flickering supernatural lights attached to the mast, with shadow-nets cast through the rigging dancing across the planks. Two hatches, each with a steep ladder, stood open to the hold below.

The priestess came closer to the traitor. "You wouldn't try to trick us after we came all the way just to serve you, would you? We are supposed to be on the same side, and asides, Baron Vendikon would take it very amiss if anything would happen to his future wife, if you get my drift."

Teltz almost laughed at the presentation of the Vudrani. Poltur took his grimace as the priestess having mentioned her importance to them a bit too often as well, and took a step back. "I had no idea the baron was so interested in this that he would send his lady."

"But of course he is. This is an important turning point in his plans for the future. Now, do you still want us to go down there, or would you rather I make the hobgoblins do it?"

Poltur grunted, then he chuckled. "If you can make them, I'd like at least 4 of them down there."

"We only saw those 3." Teltz pointed to the group that had gone back to their fishing.

"There's more," the traitor said in a voice that left no doubt that he thought all hobgoblins replaceable. He shouted at the fishers to stop and get the others. 

Not too long after, all 6 of the hobs, as Poltur kept calling them, were assembled on the ship, looking uneasy. The Vudrani started talking to them sweetly, in a singsang voice and a language none of them, least at all the hobgoblins, understood. Their reaction was obvious as their eyes lost all expression to a blank stare. Still the priestess kept singing to them until they turned one by one, making their way 3 in a row to the entrance points to the ship's belly. "Whatever you need cleaned out," Pojali said, "they will do it or die trying."

Again Poltur chuckled. "One is as good as the other," he announced. 

A short while later, muffled shouts and the sound of fighting could be heard, then a loud, desperate cry. "It's not going too well," Bjön commented over some equally muffled curses and a loud bang. "And you wanted to do that to us." Then the dwarf remembered he was supposed to be an evil person of sorts. "I like devious thinking, but should we not be worth more than... hobs?"

"I usually know the hobs are loyal to me," the traitor snorted. "Couldn't say that about you. However, having the lady of the baron around changes everything."

"I bet," Teltz whispered over more fighting noise so only the paladin could hear. "Especially when he hopes to uses her as a hostage of sorts if the negotiations won't go his way."

The noise in the ship abated, and something feline looking came out of the hold. "A hellcat!" Bjön exclaimed, instinctively gripping his axe handle. 

Poltur was not surprised. "That's Zasril. He got what he needed, now he can take what he wants and leave us be." He stared at the fiendish being, who returned the gaze before giving a quick nod. Then the hellcat turned and vanished through the hole in the ship again. The sound of someone going through some stuff could be heard, and then there was silence. 

"I'd say to hell with it," Pojali remarked drily. "But that's where it probably went anyway." Teltz managed a chuckle at this. "So, what do you really need a priest of my faith for?"


----------



## Lwaxy (Aug 22, 2012)

This part took some weeks to do over email. Everyone will be back home middle of September or so. 

---------------------------------------------------------------


They had been following a sour looking Poltur down to the lock doors of the lower canal which was currently dry. The channel was running off into the darkness, with a narrow ledge alongside several feet high. Poltur hadn't said much, and the party guessed he would have preferred to see them killed by that hellcat – although the purpose of calling them here just to be killed wasn't clear. 

Pojali had tried to engage the man in conversation to learn more, but it had not worked. Teltz had been little more successful by asking if Poltur was a follower of Asmodeus, thereby playing his part as a newly converted from the Baron's men quite well. By the evasive answer it was clear he was not, in fact, a follower and neither would he consider becoming one. 

The ledge above the channel widened soon to form an open platform about 50 feet long and 20 feet deep, and the steel cleats and bitts, as well as several coils of old rope, testified that this was once some type of dock for traffic in the channel. A pair of ten-foot-high iron double doors were set into the stone wall in the center of the landing, and three short iron levers sprouted from a foot-square iron plate set in the wall to their right. A cave-in from above completely obstructed the channel some distance to the south.

Poltur hesitated. Teltz had the feeling he was waiting for them to do something stupid, but eventually he walked over to the levers. With a quick move, he pulled the top and the bottom lever at the same time. With a screeching sound, the doors opened. "Hurry on," he shouted. "There's a trap that'll come down in a few seconds."

Pojali took a moment to determine if the man was speaking the truth – a gift from her god, so she had explained on the way here. She nodded and ran on, followed by the others. It was only when they were through the doors and in a narrow tunnel that they realized Poltur was not following. The trap, spikes coming down from the ceiling right in front of the doors, had not caught him either as he had taken a stap back. He was positively smirking. Then he grabbed one of the spikes, or so it seemed, and the spikes retracted and carried him upward. Before they could get out again, the door closed again. 

Teltz, who had been carrying the light in form of a piece of wood with a spell on it, cursed something vile. "He tricked us," Pojali simply said. "Though he had not been lying. I can only guess that this way holds something dangerous which might kill us while he can claim we were simply stupid."

Bjön sighed. "I believe that is a pretty good guess. Any way to open the door from this side?"

Teltz ran the light over the area. "Not a single mechanism."

"Right, then, the only way is forward." The paladin took the lead, weapon at the ready. "Just remember, I'm one of the few dwarfs unable to see in the dark so don't stay too far behind with the light." 

The tunnel soon widened again and sloped downward into a small cavern. The floor and walls here were coated in a thin film of slime, and a few inches of still, briny water covered the floor. At the far end, several gaff hooks and other maritime detritus were lying in a pile.

"This room gets flooded regularly," Teltz mentioned the obvious. "And someone has used all the rubbish to keep that part of the cavern open. To drown the water or flood more area?"

"I'm much more interested in how this trap is triggered. Maybe... uh oh!"

Teltz turned around from his inspection of the ground and walls. He stared, like the others, at the chimera suddenly popping out of the rubble. Its black dragon head rumbled, and for a moment it looked as if it would attack right away. But then it jumped into the middle of the cavern, causing a loud grinding sound.

"I guess that answers my question," Bjön shouted. "We'll be flooded if we aren't dinner before."

"Chimeras can't live in water. Look at it, that thing is undead." Pojali was getting into a spell already. 

Bjön drew out his sapphire amulet and groaned. Not expecting any undead was the main reason people died of them, he had so often been told. The amulet was glowing something fierce, which probably meant more of them asides of this hideous creature. "I can deal with this," he assured them and took a deep breath, quickly wondering how much time he would have left to breathe seeing how the water was rushing in from several points in the walls. He also tried to remember what type of breath weapon a black dragon had but he couldn't seem to remember in this situation. 

The others watched with interest as the paladin lifted the amulet to his forehead and began mumbling some sort of prayer in his dwarven tongue. The priestess was somewhat disappointed she could not understand what it was exactly, but they didn't have much time and she could ask later. "We need to move," she shouted to Teltz while her spell hit the monster, which immediately moved at half speed. "Through the rubble and around that thing."

"Are you mad?" the bard snapped. "I won't leave Bjön, and it would put us right under the thing's noses."

"Trust me!" she demanded. "Bjön has enough trouble to watch out for himself so he can't worry about us." Grabbing him by the shirt, she more or less pulled him into the rising waters and over to the other exit. 

The Varisian stumbled through water now reaching his shins. The woman had a point; if they would hesitate they wouldn't make it through to the other side before the water would toss them around like toys. He had to watch how he moved already, and he literally kept his eyes on his feet, but them bring and more obscured by sea foam, he decided he would just have to hope he wouldn't fall over anything. 

Looking up, he knew they should be right next to the monstrosity by now and wondered if the thing would change its attack and have a go at them. However, as he looked up, he couldn't see the priestess anymore, although he still felt her dragging hand pulling him along. He could still see himself but it seemed the monster missed both of them. Obviously, the woman had managed to make them invisible somehow. He could slap himself that he hadn't thought of this option himself. After all, he had a tattoo for it. But then, he would not have been able to include anyone else. 

Behind them, a sapphire light grew stronger, and there was the impression of music in the air, though none of them could actually hear something. It was a strange feeling. The bard had no time to think about it though, because they had reached the rubble on the other end of the cave and he needed to be careful not to fall into the churning waters, which were now up to his waist. Pojali let go of him, needing both hands to climb over, and Teltz decided he could worry about Bjön later. Right now, the rising water was beginning to terrify him, thanks to an old childhood memory he had thought overcome. His arms and legs were shaky, part from exhaustion and part from fear. He had long lost the wood with the light spell, but some sort of light emitting algae provided basic illumination. 

Somehow, he made it to the other, still mostly dry side. Water was leaking though, of course, but not in a substantial amount yet. As he was about to take a deep breath, he noticed the creatures. To the left and right of the exit to this cave, humanoid shapes were waiting. At first sight, in the greenish he thought them to be normal humans, but then he recognized the blank eyes, the partial decay, the seaweed stuck to them. Another pair of undead, though not as dangerous as the chimaera behind them. 

For a moment, he froze. Then he took his sword – which somewhat stuck to the scabbard thanks to the wetness – and sneaked up on the one closest to him. He had no idea where the priestess was, but the surprise of his invisibility was  to be used. And it seemed Pojali had had the same idea. Right as he decapitated the strange undead in front of him, he heard a piercing cry and a slashing sound.  Turning just in time to see two short, curved blades in the woman's hands, he couldn't help to notice how attractive she looked when she was in such a fierce mood. The head of the second abomination joined that of the first, and Pojali, spell broken by her attack, actually chuckled. "Now that was a good way to get rid of them." 

"Nice timing," Teltz commented. 

"I could still see you. It was my granted prayer allowing us to pass unnoticed, after all." Putting her weapons away, she pointed to where the water rushed in quicker now. "Those are strange undead, nothing I ever saw or heard of before. So maybe Bjön needs help after all... or not," she finished, sounding amused. 

Again, the bard turned to see a certain dwarf, still bathed in the glow of his sapphire pendant, being washed over the rubble together with what looked to be the tail of the chimaera. The wave carried the paladin way into this tunnel before he rested in a large, growing puddle, coughing and gasping. Then the glow disappeared and Bjön started shivering. 

Only now the others noticed how cold they were. While the sea water had been warmer than expected, probably kept from freezing temperatures by some underground heat source, it was still far from comfortable, and the air in here was not much warmer than it had been outside. Being soaking wet in their winter clothes was not a good thing. 

The bard reached into his wet shirt and pulled out a marble pipe, an instrument unaffected by most elements. I had done a good job staying alive over the years. It could store simple arcane spells, and the Varisian usually used it for only one type – mendings of various natures, partly invented by himself. It had no great sound but it didn't need to. Unless you had very sensitive ears, the slightly off sound didn't bother. Gathering the others around himself, Teltz started playing a repetitive waltz-like melody. One downside of this spell storage was that it took a few minutes to work, which was why the flute wasn't of much use in action, but he felt they had a moment. 

Bjön, looking slightly cross-eyed, held his head while he kept on shivering and coughing. He seemed to have swallowed a lot of water. Pojali winced a bit – likely her ears were quite good – but waited patiently. The water seemed to be drawn away from them, including what was still in the dwarf's lungs as it seems. The dry out bout, as Teltz called this little melody, did a good job removing wetness that was not supposed to be there. There was still water rushing in, though, and would soon be knee high, so they kept moving in haste. 

"What happened there?" the priestess asked as they rushed went on to the next cave.

"I'm not sure. The amulet did its job but it was as if something was binding the chimera to this place, something strong enough to temper with this kind of divine magic. It touched me with it's tail and bumped me against a wall despite being so slow, then it pinned me there and suddenly my lungs filled with water. I had to hack its tail off to be able to breathe again. A bit longer and I would have drowned. I think all that protected me was the amulet. And I lost my axe in the fight, too!" Still shaken, the paladin managed to look very angry about that. He hadn't noticed until now that his utility belt had also been torn from his waist. It caused a growl none of them had heard from him before. But there was nothing to be done about it, the chances to find the lost items were slim even if the water would retreat.

The floor of the next cavern  was already submerged beneath several feet of standing water. Fresh water from the cave they just left began to slowly tickle in. It appeared that something lived here, as the tops of several crude tables stood just above the water’s surface. Rusted and barnacle-encrusted weapons, armor, and other odds and ends were stacked in corners. "My guess is this is where the other undead came from," Pojali said. 

"Other undead? Humanoids?" When they nodded, Bjön's face took on a thinking expression, but whatever it was that he seemed to almost recall, he could not bring it up and shook his head apologetically. 

"They looked somewhat like those," Teltz said drily and pointed to where 2 of the same sort of undead emerged from under one of the tables. 

Luckily, even without the help of the weaponless dwarf, the two of them had no problem with the clumsy and somewhat unfocussed foes. They knew not to let them touch them, but that was a general rule with all undead to begin with. But when they were done, the cold water was quickly filling up the cave. They had to press on and find dry ground before it would make sense for Teltz to play his flute again.

Getting out of this cavern was not so easy. The only other exit was a dwarf length up and slippery from the algae of this stagnant pool. They ended up pushing Bjön up, then the priestess and then pulling up Teltz last. After that, the tunnel soon went left, then right, then left again and they found themselves in need to wade through a puddle of foul smelling water before entering another, more rectangular space. 

This large cavern’s floor was dotted with small, muddy pools, none more than a foot deep. At least a dozen wooden boxes and chests could be seen in the dry areas, most open, with coins and weapons clearly visible within. "Now, what do you say to that," the dwarf beamed. "I might just find a replacement weapon. Even a sword or a mace would do." 

"I wouldn't trust that," the bard cautioned. "It's not like we haven's seen other traps before."

"Good point." Bjön scratched his head while the bard played his flute once more. "What type of trap could this be?"

"I'd look up," Pojali pointed. "Not sure but doesn't this look like something heavy is designed to fall down?"

The eyes of the other rose up, but before they could deny or confirm the woman's suspicions, several things happened. A terrible stink was suddenly around them, making Teltz and Pojali retch. Bjön just held his nose, looking surprised. Something acid smelling bumped against the dwarf, hissing and burning a hole into his cloak but being stopped by his armor. A second such missile found the back of the bard's leather armor after burning through his cloak and shirt. The leather got damaged and stopped the rest of the attack. Pojali had been in the motion of stepping sideways to allow the others a better look, and suddenly found herself sliding on very slippery ground that had not been there before. Mocking laughter came from somewhere, and there was the sound of a strange language being spoken rapidly. 

Teltz reacted on instinct more than anything else. They were under attack, and he had no idea by who. None of them could see well in this light. He didn't want to be seen if he could not see them. Unable to cast any spell or play one of his special instruments due to the retching, he reached into his clothes and for the invisibility tattoo. A moment later, he vanished from everyone's view. Stumbling backwards to one of the walls, he tried to get out of the range of the stinking cloud. 

The paladin jumped forward, trying to avoid the area Pojali had pointed out so no9thing would fall on him. He needed a weapon to fight whoever attacked, and the chests in the middle of the room at least had some form of defense. But he slipped on the grease as well and, instead of reaching the chests, bumped into the wall close to where Teltz now was. A bump was quickly forming on his forehead and he felt slightly dizzy. 

 Pojali barely managed to avoid the trapped area, but then lost balance completely and fell to the ground. Her eyes caught 2 strange looking creatures chuckling and pointing at her. But before she could make them out clearly, they disappeared behind some crates again. Some liquid substance hit the puddle close to her and vanished in a hiss. 

Bjön ducked a similar attack, gliding to the floor in the process. He heard a familiar voice next to him. "I think those are mephits." He couldn't see the bard but he was glad someone had managed to get out of range of those things. "Don't care what they're called," he huffed, holding his nose. "They are the enemy. If I just had a weapon." 

"Here." A short sword was pressed into his hands. "I can't fight well while invisible. I have another idea though."

Grunting, the dwarf looked around and found one of the strange winged creatures appearing from behind one of the crates, targeting Pojali with a spell, as it seemed. With a dwarven battle cry, he pointed the sword at the back of the thing and lurched forward. He gave it ample warning to turn around, but the spell it had tried to weave was interrupted. Instead, it was knocked out with the broad side of the dwarf's sword a moment later. Bjön had no intention to kill if he could avoid it, maybe those... mephits, or whatever they were, were just trying to defend their homes. 

Pojali had managed to roll out of the way of the grease spell effect, lest she wuld tirgger the trap after all. The stinking cloud was dissipating, but she felt still too sick to do any spell, or to pray for more help from her deity. She noticed that the attention of the leading creature seemed to be focused in the dwarf now. A thudding sound on the other side a moment later was evidence of where the bard had gone to. That she could still not see him must mean his way of becoming invisible was superior to hers. 

A few whispered words later, the  last of the creatures tried to wiggle its way out of a net spell from the bard. From the way his words now sounded, it was quite angry. But they could still understand nothing. The paladin seemingly ignored the trouble and finally went over to the crates in search of a new, hopefully somewhat good, weapon. 

Carefully getting up, Pojali flinched. Her backside hurt, and the lingering stench still made her eyes water. "Well done, you two," she coughed. 

After a moment, the bard became visible again. "I wish we could open a window in here," he grinned. 

"What do we do with those now?" the woman wanted to know. "If we let them go they will bother us again later, I worry."

"Good question. I have no idea. Maybe..."

"Hah, praise Desna! Look what I found. A dwarven cold iron axe, if I have ever seen any. And a rapier that looks to be alchemical silver but I'm less sure about that. The rest is a bit of money I took and mostly rubbish." Beaming, the young dwarf showed his new treasures. "Any objections to keeping both for now?" He had some trouble stowing the axe handle into his normal belt which luckily had enough hooks for such purposes. The rapier he kept in hand for now, tossing the sword back to the bard.

"No, but I'd not mind exchanging that sword for it eventually. I'm better with a rapier," Teltz explained. "And it looks to be a good weapon. I wanted to switch weapons a while back but we never got the chance to do so." 

Bjön nodded. "Sure thing. I just want to try it out for a while."

"Guys?" The woman smiled sourly. "Your new toys are all fine, but what do we do with those creatures now?"

"I'd say run for it. If they are only defending their home, they'll leave us alone once we're gone. Those two will wake up eventually and... how long does the spell hold?" 

"15 minutes, maybe," Teltz answered the dwarf's question. "I augmented it with something." He didn't want to define "something" obviously, and no one asked. 

"Then let's go." The paladin went ahead to what was, again, the only other exit. Teltz quickly cast a new light spell on one of the otherwise unusable rotten torches in one of the crates and they followed. 

This time, they didn't have to climb although the tunnel went up until they reached another puddle of stagnant water where it evened out. A bit after that, they could see yet another cavern. With a sigh, wondering for how long they would have to wiggle their way through the undergrounds of those islands, Bjön continued leading them into it. His stomach suddenly growled somewhat fierce, but he ignored it and the bard's jokes about it. 

This roughly spherical chamber was mostly dry, and the stone walls appeared to be unworked. A passage in the east wall wound away to the northeast. They were about to just pass through, away from the mephit cavern, when suddenly an insubstantial human figure appeared in front of them. Taken aback by the ghost at first, they quickly deducted that it was harmless. Its features were continually shifting between those of two men - one was stern and stooped, while the other was young and energetic and dressed in sailing attire. The two share common traits and it took no genius to realize it was the same man, once as a strong youth and once as old geezer. 

"Who are you?" Bjön and Pojali demanded at the same time. 

“Greetings, sailors. My name is Pelastour, and I built this place. I am ashamed to say that I am also the grandfather of Poltur, who seeks to sell our family’s honor to the highest bidder. My only hope is to help you destroy him.” With a grim face, the ghost rushed through an explanation of the Terraken, including mentioning it as shielded from scrying. 

Teltz cut the tale short by telling the ghost they had already gotten information from the villagers and mentioned that they were in a hurry. "Where's your treacherous grandson now?"

“Yes, yes, you must make haste. He is very close, as the spirit flies. He is in a chamber known as Fluxhold, almost directly above us, and he remains there because Fluxhold offers a view of  the Terraken and other locations within  the islands through a scrying pool. An elemental is bound into the magic of Fluxhold, required by magical oath to lower and raise the water in the cove and the locks in response to certain signals. The scrying pool allows it to do this while remaining in Fluxhold. Take the passage to the north, through the chamber, then northwest, then climb, and you’ll be there.” 

The ghost looked as if he would disappear again,but Teltz called out. "Wait! Where is this Terraken now? Why isn't it under Poltur's control?"

"Just where I left it 50 years ago - trapped in the oubliette, and unable to climb out as long as these  tunnels remain dry. There, too, lies the amulet which controls it - the treasure Poltur is undoubtedly seeking even now. This may be my only success with Poltur to date. He has yet to locate the amulet that controls the Terraken, and is reluctant to make any further moves until he’s done so. Instead, he monitors the situation, too close to his goal to take a step back and find new allies, too concerned with you nipping at his heels to give the matter his full attention. The stage is set for you to confront him in Fluxhold." A smile appeared on the ghost's face. "Hurry, now." 

While the other two rushed on already, Bjön hesitated for a moment. "Is there no way to destroy the beast?"

"It is hopeless to fight it directly. Its defenses are too strong and its weapons too dire. Retrieving the amulet from the bottom of its prison and taking control is probably the only hope if it escapes, although it would need to be sequestered in some new hideaway, or it would undoubtedly eventually find its way back to its Chelish masters.” A grave and frightened expression appeared on the shot now. "I'm worried all my work was for naught, so please hurry." 

The dwarf was already on his way, having trouble to catch up with the others thanks to his shorter legs. It didn't help that the tunnel went up again after he turned right. Soon enough though, he heard first voices, then some commotion from the next cavern. This one was filled with a roar every dozen heartbeats, similar to the sounds of surf, but amplified. A large pool of water filled the southern half of the chamber and extended shallow fingers almost to the northern wall.

In front of Teltz was one more of those strange undead, clearly a female this time, and clearly this one had her senses together and was not in any way mindless. Teltz and Pojali were talking to it, and the cause of the commotion seemingly was Pojali being hit by a spell from her. The Vudrani looked confused and seemed unable to move, leaning against a wall for protection. Teltz was berating her for it, claiming they worked for the same side. Bjön was about to ask, but then decided to leave the words up to the bard and just listen. 

"Look, she's the baron's mistress, so yes, she is clearly on the same side. The whole plan to conquer Andoran hinges on being able to get a strong sea presence. Either you help us regain the Terraken or we'll find a way to destroy you."

"You can't control it without me! I'm bound to it, it is my magic that controls it!" the undead shrieked. The latter was clearly a lie. 

Bjön grimaced, then composed himself and decided to play along with the charade. Anything better than having to waste time in a fight. "You aren't the best liar," he began in a grumpy voice. "We know about the amulet. In any case, that old spirit will give us no trouble no more. Can we deal with this and move on?"

The undead turned to face him, then relaxed. "Prove you are Chelish!"

"Look, we have no time for that. That fool traitor Poltur took money from the baron and now wants the Terraken for himself," Bjön grumbled. "Can you get out of this pool and stop him? No? See!" 

"The baron doesn't suffer traitors," Pojali said, still sounding weak. "I'll need to kill this man for him."

Undead eyes went from one face to the next. "Alright, but don't you forget that you need me to control the weapon, with ot without the amulet." 

"I'm sure you'll be a great help when the time comes," Teltz bowed, the n moved towards the next exit. 

"Quick thinking there," the paladin chuckled once they were in the next tunnel. "I may have to go back and destroy her later."

"If she is bound to it, maybe it'll do to destroy the Terraken," Teltz suggested. 

"Yeah about that... the ghost said we wouldn't be able to..."

"A shame. But look, there we are!"

Radiance pouring out of a giant water droplet suspended from the roof filled this chamber with more light than a noon sun. The fat droplet was fifteen  feet in diameter and just as long, and quivered slightly in the still air. Within it, something serpentine and translucent undulates slowly. "The water elemental," Pojali said in disgust. "Binding lower creatures like that is despicable."

Ten feet below the giant droplet was a shallow, square pool 10 feet across and perhaps 3 feet deep, bounded by a stone walkway 1 foot wide. Images of other places appear on the pool’s surface and  then were  quickly gone. Passageways opened to the chamber from each of the four corners of the room, and a narrow stone path lead to the central pool, with four trapezoidal pools formed by the intersecting pathways. The walls and ceiling were smooth, worked stone, glistening with moisture. All of it reflected the brightness. And they had to squint. Teltz dropped the old toch. 

"Where's Poltur?" The paladin's eyes searched the room. "I thought he was supposed to be here." 

Pojali was making her way to the scrying pool and the elemental already. She did ignore a giant, 2 headed snake showing up right next to her. The snake seemed to sniff the air, then seemed to consider her no thread. Instead, it turned to focus on the two men. With an aggressive hiss, it rushed over the walkway towards them. 

"Elemental, can you hear me?" Pojali shouted. "If you can stop the snake, please do, we intend no harm. We just want to help. Don't you want to get out of there?"

Bjön mumbled something about the naiveté of some women, when the snake did indeed slow down and finally stop. "Thank you," Pojali bowed. "Where is that bad man named Poltur? He is at least as bad as those who bound you. We want to stop him."

The voice of the elemental was like a mixture of rushing water, falling raindrops and blubbering bubbles. Pojali listened intensely, then nodded. "Yes, I believe we know how to free you. But would you please help us first?"

Again the weird language, then the scrying pool showed a new image. Bjön and the bard had made their way over, around the snake, and could see it showed Poltur, who was seen standing with his face to a wall that looked half fallen in. "What's he doing?" Pojali wondered. 

"He, uh, is taking a leak, I think," Teltz said. 

"Using watercraft on the stones. Splashing the dust," Bjön helped out as the woman looked confused. "Everyone heed's nature's call eventually."

"Oh." The priestess blushed slightly. "But that's good, as it gives us a few moments. Pelastour?" she called. "I know you are around." 

The old ghost manifested again. "I heard. I'm sorry." The spirit was talking to the water elemental. "My mage assured me we had a fair deal. I had no idea you didn't want to be down here. You are released from your bounds once my grandson is dealt with. And we'll find a way to reward you."

Irritated, the two men looked at each other. Not having understood even half of the elemental conversation, they could only guess the ghost could speak its language and that it had complained about its lot. Teltz swore to himself to find a way to understand, if not speak, more languages. 

Right then, the man in question came out of the north east runnel, adjusting his garments. It took him a moment to realize he wasn't alone anymore, and another moment to understand that the ghostly shape in the chamber was his grandfather. That was a moment too long, as he could suddenly not move anymore.

Pelastour's ghostly face showed immense concentration. "Quick, bind him!" However he did it, he was holding his grandson in place. 

Teltz didn't hesitate and rushes, without even being in danger of slipping on the wet surface, over to the shocked foe and grabbed a semi-dry rope from his pack. It took mere moments and a special knot to bind the traitor. "Shall we kill him right here or give him a trial?" he asked,  and it sounded as if he was in favor of the first. 

"I know not what will happen if he dies," the ghost explained. "This all may start to crumble, but then, it also will when the elemental is gone."

The elemental's voice started up again, even quicker now. "Yes that would be good if the Terraken could be destroyed. But it cannot..."

"Never say never." The paladin's face had taken on a serious impression. "I am positive I can do it – with the help of Desna and this." He held up his sapphire amulet. "Where do I go from here?"

"Follow me." Pelastour went right through a wall before he remembered the dwarf couldn't do that. Looking a bit sheepish, he reappeared and followed a corridor leading back to the lower canal. Teltz ran along, but Pojali shook her head and pointed to Poltur and the elemental "I'll stay with Shirqual and the prisoner."

"The elemental has a name?" Bjön wondered as they rushed on. 

"Well, it's intelligent, why wouldn't it have one?" Teltz gasped, beginning to feel the day's stress on him now. "I hope it isn't far." 

It wasn't. The channel opened into a huge pit at least one hundred feet across. It was almost dry save a shallow puddle. At the bottom of the pit drifted the partially decomposed corpse of an enormous beast. It hardly stirred, lacking the drive to do anything, much like a zombie. 

Before he could be asked what he wanted to do, the paladin lifted the amulet up again, and its eerie glow filled the area. This time, he wasn't speaking dwarven. "Desna, Light of the World, grant us the power needed to destroy this abomination. Guide with your divine grace and undo the machinations of evil."

The light intensified and grew brighter than in the pool room. Teltz had to close his eyes; the ghost was, of course, not really affected. When he opened his eyes again, he saw the Terraken beginning to disintegrate, the sapphire light all around it. There was a crunching noise, as if the un dead material was crushed together. Despite the wetness, the bard could see dust falling to the ground. 

And then it was over. The area fell dark, and none of them could see anything for a while, except the shimmering form of Pelastour. Bjön's amulet was completely dark, something the bard had never seen before, there had always been at least a little light. Bjön seemed dazed, so Teltz carefully guided him back, closely following the ghost. 

"We saw it!" Pojali pointed at the pool. "That was magnificent. Absolutely stunning. A victory for the good in the world." She kissed the surprised dwarf on the cheek. Poltur was weeping in the background. All he had worked for had crumbled in just a few hours. 

"No matter what you do to this failure of my family now," Pelastour said, "my time here is over, nothing holds me anymore. I can finally move on. Thank you all..." With that, he simply faded away. 

They decided to think about the man's fate later. Dragging him back to the surface was a bit of a problem, but taking the short way out above the doors, they managed in time to avoid the coming flooding of the caverns. Shirqual had agreed to wait until they were at the edge of his scrying area before he would leave. It had sent the old snake with them, too, which had become something of a pet, as it seemed. They would leave it at the village so the elemental could find it again. Pojali said she wanted to talk to it again later, but the others truly didn't care. A hot meal, some ale and some sleep was about all that was on their minds. 

The weather was still very bad, so they had to use a second installment of the priestess' Mists of the Seawind. Darkness didn't mage navigating any easier, but the village had light, so they did not lose their way. The villagers wanted to celebrate their great victory right away, but asides from the woman, who didn't seem to tire, none of them felt like relating the story now. The men went to bed in one of the village hut's roof chambers shortly after. 

"Say Bjön?" Teltz asked before he blew out the candle. "The amulet, will it recover? I never saw it dark before." 

"Me neither. I don't know. I hope so. It is a useful tool to someone mainly out to destroy undead. Although..."

"What?"

"When Desna told me that I should use the amulet, she also said that my destiny was more than hunting undead. So I guess if it matters, it will recover and if not... I'll find something else. Just like my lost axe."

"Desna spoke to you? In the caverns?" Teltz bumped his head at the low ceiling in surprise. All the answer he got was a loud snoring, and he had the feeling it would be a while before his paladin friend would share any more details than that. But he could not help but feel a slight pang of jealousy.


----------



## Lwaxy (Oct 8, 2012)

Several weeks later...



In Falcon's Hollow, winter didn't seem to want to surrender. Snow and ice kept returning between thawing ice and cold rain, and no flowers or other greens wanted to poke their heads out of the ground. It was, so everyone agreed, an unnatural cold, but after the recent happenings around town, the residents were happy enough for no more danger but the daily perils. 

Despite the lasting cold, the Company of Chaos, how the party now named themselves – owning to the fact that they usually weren't sure what they were doing – was making preparations to leave, together with the children they had rescued from the kobold king the year before. 

To everyone's surprise, a message had arrived a month ago, brought by Zayel's Hawk familiar Will. The hawk had been late, having had a little trouble finding Falcon's Hollow. The relief of hearing from their friends and their adventures and the new companion they had made – or two, counting the eidolon - gave everyone fresh energy. Like themselves, their friends had used winter time to learn a lot of useful things, especially spells and some self defense. Mook insisted, though, that Zayel might be good with a bow – no doubt thanks to his elven heritage she said – but any attempts to make him better with a staff or anything else had caused so many injuries, including one she had to heal considering Zayel might want to have children some time that they had given up on it. They had sent Will back with news of their own, which had become an even longer letter than the one they had gotten. 

While they were ready to move on, there were some lose ends to tie up and an event to attend. The lose ends had to do with the criminal way the settlement was run. Kronk had been the first, during one of his frequent visits, to suggest they do something about it, after all, they had dealt with worse monsters. And there were a few people in town ready to help, including the son of the Lumber Consortium boss. That was the good part of their idea. The bad part was that it might involve a lot of violence, and the killing of some of the bad guys, including said Consortium boss. It was one thing fighting monsters, or even obviously evil cultists. It was something else to go against a company that was, at least at its face, operating legally. 

The event to attend was the a carnival returned to town, the owner being from around here originally. The owner of the caravan, a local, seemed to be of the opinion that it was time and the town did not disagree. They had been through a lot lately, and anything to take their minds off that was welcome. The same could be said for the party, especially of Zaza. In some ways, the halfling girl was incredibly tough and fearless, but facing so many things, especially undead and close quarters, had changed her somewhat. Still, she was bossing Majek around when no one but the group could see – after all, he was her half-brother. She had started doing the same to Edawon, claiming that if he was to pretend to be her brother, she would treat him accordingly. 

Majek had been helping setting up the carnival as they were getting short of funds, and he said he had met all sorts of creatures there. Something was, he said, a little off with the owner, one half-elf by name of Namdrin Quinn, former adventurer. The man seemed distant and somewhat depressed, with bouts of crazy energy. But the show itself would be good, the alchemist insisted. He couldn't wait to see it, and he had gotten free tickets for them and their new friends as part of his payment. The carnival was to open this weekend, which was in 2 days, and they could hardly wait. 




Down in Augustana, things were not going quite as well since the hawk had returned with news from their friends. Spring was coming, the snow was thawing, and the troupes quartered in the Tree Top Inn  were ready to move on. Oldtown was getting new attractions by now, and even Mook didn't get many people to come around asking for their futures anymore. 

This left them with a money problem. They would have to pay to stay at the inn  to wait for their friends, who would take a few weeks to come down to here. Mook's savings and Zayel's meager income from helping mages with potions and such were barely enough for himself, as he was mostly paid in spell components, and Tiva, who had decided to stay with them, didn't have any sort of income save getting them free food and quarters for helping at the inn while she was here. Madame Velomina had given them their share of helping to run the caravan already, and Zayel guessed that if they needed little, they could make it until the others, who had a little more money it seemed, arrived. But it would be difficult. 

By chance, one morning before sunup, they overheard two travelers talking at the table closest to the bar while they helped Tiva setting tables for the morning crowd yet to come. 

"Airk Jarigan hasn’t  reported  in  for  two  weeks," a stocky swarf was saying to his half-elf companion. "He’s supposedly close to finding the artifact. If he hasn't been dreaming, that is. I shouldn't have drusted that old drunkard with retrieving something valuable, even if it is just a family heirloom. As the sun isn’t even up yet, he’s probably still asleep. I need you to go down to the Lusty Mermaid, drag Airk out of bed, and find out why he hasn’t been reporting in. More importantly, I need you to get that artifact. You’ll recognize Airk by a gold amulet he always wears around his neck. It’s of an owlbear clutching an amethyst. He should also be with his protégé, a whelp by the name of Dargo Mar. That’s all."

The half-elf shook his head. "You know I like helping an old friend if needed, but in this case, I have to pass. Sorry, Hestram, but my sister is getting married this weekend and I have to be the one personally bringing the invitations. Seems like a petty reason to you, maybe, but it is tradition and I draw the short straw – literally. You know, family..."

The dwarf's face fell. "S'alright, I'll find someone else to do it. I just hoped I'd not have to part with as much silver as even such simple jobs usually cost. I wish you a swift journey."

As the half-elf left and the dwarf downed his coffee, Mook spontaneously stepped up to the man, in her typical gnome fashion. "We can help you," she said, indicating her friends and herself. "We've decided not to travel on with the caravan so we can use some little side job here and there. Dragging someone out of bed and finding out what they have been up to is something we're used to doing." She grinned widely. It was not even a lie, they had had to drag a few of the caravan's workers out of beds, usually those of women of ill repute, a few times during winter. 

The man looked about to shake his head, but then he shrugged. "As good as any, I suppose. You heard what I said, do you know where the Lusty Mermaid is?" When Mook shook her head, he began to give directions to the harbor, which the gnome had no issue memorizing. Asides, they knew town rather well by now. 

"I'll give you 20 silver and will pay for minor damages – not burning an inn  down, mind you – as I do not have a lot of money anymore, the search for our heirloom has taken up too much of it."

That wasn't much, but they had to start somewhere and it wasn't too bad for an hour or two of work, so Mook nodded. "We'll grab our stuff and be on our way immediately." 



Bjön and Rodawin Teltz had, by then, come to Augustana without knowing some of their party were there. After the affair at the coast, they had travelled here with some of the cavalry of Andor, where they had spent most of the winter in quiet and, thanks to them having most of the party's wealth, good comfort. As soon as spring broke, they had gotten an offer from Andoran druids in this area who had heard of them defeating the undead monstrosity. 

Something had gone wrong in the Verduran Forest a good distance to the east but closer to Falcon's Hollow, where they still planned on ending up.  A wild-haired druid named  Hemzel recently appeared  at the Civic Library of Augustana and demanded access to the archive. One of the druid circle contacts followed the druid’s trail of manuscripts and discovered that Hemzel had found a lorestone, a minor artifact that when used properly in a druid circle gives the bearer all of the accumulated knowledge of the druids of the area, in this case, the Verduran Forest. This was important because the forest was said to hold treasures and the druids now feared that, with Hemzel being so cut off from anyone else, he might lose the lorestone and it would fall into the wrong hands. The Andorans were, after all, not known to treat their forests with a lot of respect.And they fey of the area were a bit of a problem as well. 

The two of them had accepted eagerly after they were told they could save a good deal of travel by using one of the druidic circles as teleportation circle – an information they were sworn not to reveal to any non-druids not of their party.  The druid leading the Augustana group just outside the city seemed to be of the opinion that Bjön and Teltz were of importance to the future of the world, to which the paladin had replied that everyone of a good mind was of importance. Rodawin, however, sucked on is pipe looking very worried. "I don't want to be of importance," he reluctantly admitted. "It's why we had to run from home to begin with." Bjön had not been able to get anything else out of him.and had not been inclined to press the matter. 

At the same morning his son and his friends decided to help the dwarf for some little pay, the paladin and the bard found themselves waking up to the drizzle of early spring rain, cold and refreshing. And wet! It was far from a nice walk in the woods as Teltz had hoped. From the druid circle they had come out in, several days south of their destination, it had been a scramble through  brambles, boulders, and biting insects and a misadventure of detours, torn clothes, and near falls. Fortunately, from what they could deduct from the map, this would be their last day of travel before they would arrive in the druid's place. 

"So," Teltz said as he gathered and magically fried their things as the sun came up. "What was that about gnomes again? Hemzel is friends with them?"

"Yeah, but strangely, him and at least some of the fey folk in the area aren't friends, exactly. I am under the impression that there is some backstabbing and intrigue involved. I pray to Desna we won't get pulled into it too deep. If we're lucky, he'll heed our warning and hand the lorestone to the druidic circle of this area."

"When do people ever heed warnings?" Teltz mumbled, but the dwarf didn't hear him, being busy with his morning prayers. 




Zayel had altered the appearances of himself and his female companions to appear older than they were. From their experiences in the city, young people were taken less serious, if heeded at all, not like in rural places where you were accepted once you've proven your ability to help the community and follow the rules. The disreputable inn they were going to was going to be worse, if anything, so they now seemed to be about 10 years older – although for Mook it was hard to tell, as with most gnomes she could have been any age but very young - and he had added a good sized beard to his own appearance. Her wolf appeared to be a limping large mutt dog with grey fur. 

The darkness had melted away, leaving Absalom in the gray grip of dawn. Rolling in off the sea, a chilling fog was hanging thick in the air like a cold, pale wraith seeking to steal warmth from the living. Cries of seagulls pierced the otherwise dull stillness of the Docks. A dim yellow light spilled from the  stained windows of the Lusty Mermaid. The front door opened with a moan, and inside was a scattering of fisherman, returned from a predawn haul. The overwhelming stench of raw fish clung to these men, and it mingled with the savory aroma from the pot of stew hanging above a snapping fire in the hearth. The proprietor, a greasy-looking human with thick arms and an even thicker belly, looked up from behind the bar and says, “A little early for customers, isn’t it? I have stew cooking, but that’s it. If yer lookin’ fer anthin’ else, ya best shove off.”

Mook who had, as long as her bracelet worked and she didn't stutter, taken on responsibility for the group as it seemed, threw a grin into the room, looking at the fishermen closely. Almost immediately, she noticed one of them, who clearly was not who they were looking for as it was an older man reeking of fish, wearing the pendant Hestam had described to them. Not a good sign, she thought, but maybe the explanation was harmless. "We're just here to pick someone up. One Arik Jaridan and his sidekick, Dargoi Mar. In fact, you must know them because you," she pointed right at the older fisherman, "have his pendant he always was so proud of for some reason. Did he get drunk again and couldn't pay his bills?" 

Mook was improvising, and Zayel added to it. "If he's been filling himself with drink again, he's due for another long lecture from you-know-who." 

"Not seen him in a while," the barkeep said, motioning with his head to the guy with the pendant. "In fact, when he gave me that t' pay fer his drinks it was the last time I saw him. Hasn't paid fer his room, either. Used the pendant to pay my own debts, I did. Now, yer can pay fer his room, if ye want, and have a look at his stuff, but that's all. I ain't the salvation squad."

Zayel looked at the others and shrugged. "How much?" 

The keep showed a crooked smile. "A silver and 5 coppers. Ain't much of comfort here, ya see, but I ain't got no bugs or rats so that's something."

The wizard fished for the coins they had been given for just such a scenario and paid the man, even one copper extra. "For being so helpful," he said, managing to sound sincere. "We know as well as anyone else how hard it is to make a living. Plus," he added with a crooked grin of his own, "these coppers ain't coming from our own pockets." 

The barkeep chuckled and pointed to his left. "If yer go through the first door, then take a right, it's the first door there. Be aware, Jarid ne'er cleans up. Might be a mighty mess in there." 

"Not a problem," Mook grinned at him. For some reason, the much taller man seemed intimidated by that smile. 

As they went to check the room out, they noticed that talks and laughter picked up again. They had not noticed how quiet it had become before. "Something is very much off," Zayel suggested.


"Indeed," Mook agreed. "And that barkeep, he needs killing. Evil does not even begin to describe it." She opened the door to Jaridan's room and didn't notice the shocked looks of the others. 

"What do you mean, he needs killing? Do you suggest that we...?"

"Yes," Mook said, her voice sounding hard, not at all like the young girl the wizard thought he knew. "All the gods seem to agree on that much." She seemed to be far away with her thoughts, and Zayel was wondering if it was even her talking, or if some deity of the other was talking through her. This part of her, this being an oracle, he had never been completely comfortable to begin with. 

"The only thing of worth here," Tiva said, having not paid attention to the others right then, "is this box with water breathing potions." She held up 7 bottles carefully. "Those could prove very valuable. Curious that he has them."

"Take them." Mook turned to the girl, and her eyes seemed to glow for a second. "He won't need them anymore. He's not coming back. The barkeep and his thugs killed him."

"How do you...?" Zayel started, but the stopped himself. Waving his hands in frustration, he looked like he was trying to fly off. "What do we do now?"

"What thugs?" Tiva asked at the same time. 

"Those thugs," the gnome replied and pointed to the door which suddenly sprung open. Two black haired, badly shaved humans with rapiers which had seen better days flanked the barkeep, who was probably also the owner of the place. The man held a greatsword and seemed to be very confident with it. 

Tiva's eyes widened while Zayel sighed inwardly. In the stories about adventurers, there were always fighters, and every advice he had heard in their current residence was never to go anywhere without a fighter to back you up, no matter the spells you could weave. Without their currently absent friends, he found this all too true now. 

A growl escaped from Doodah's throat, and the wolf showed his fearsome teeth. Mook, however, seemed not to be perturbed. She turned almost in slow motion to face those foes, and as before, something in her presence was very intimidating. The three-quarter-elf remembered the happenings in the golden city, with the undead dragon, and suddenly had the feeling that it was not only Mook in there, that somehow the gods she was praying to and talking about had some sort of personal stake in this. Not that the idea of divine intervention in what seemed to be, effectively, a very mundane matter, made a lot of sense to him. It was more worrisome than relieving. 

The two thugs seemed to freeze for a second, looking to their boss for confirmation. The barkeep, however, stared right at Mook, wrestling with himself whether he should turn tail or not, so it seemed. Zayel knew that he would have run from the gnome, but then, he knew things their attackers didn't. 

One of the thugs lost his nerve and turned, but the door slammed shut right in front of him. Without wondering why Mook, if if had been her, had done that, or how, Zayel focused on the other thug, throwing a bit of sand in his direction while reciting a sleep spell. Confronted by the gnome, the human had no will to resist and dropped sleeping, the rapier slipping from his hand. Their boss, however, charged right at the oracle. 

Doodah jumped, biting deep into the man's sword arm. With a cry, but still holding on to his weapon, he tried to shake the beast off. There was surprise in his eyes, much like he had not registered the wolf before. He had no success, and blood started dripping to the floor. 

A bullet from Tiva's sling hit their wannabe assailant in the ribs – Zayel thought the girl had aimed for the hand holding the sword but the wolf and the man danced around too wildly to have been successful. Mook's oracle staff flew upward with a much better aim and hit the human right between the legs. The shouts of the man broke off, and he dropped the sword and slumped to the floor, his uninjured arm clutching his new injury. The oracle mumbled a growling sounding word to the wolf, who let go of the limb and turned, snarling, to rip the man's throat out. A moment later, only the thug who had tried to flee was still left standing, shaking and still trying to open the door. 

Tiva looked at the mess Doodah had made and started to vomit. She was pale as a sheet of paper. The wizard was less troubled, but the scent of blood and the ruthlessness of the act made him feel claustrophobic in the small room. 

The gnome went to the last man standing. "We won't hurt you if you tell us the truth. Why did you kill Jarigan? Where is his sidekick Mar?" 

"Mar p..paid us to k..kill the other guy. Don't kn...know where he is. Really!" 

"Don't lie to me!" 

"He... he left with some of Larro's f..friends." The man pointed shaking at the deceased. "Heard someone mention the Floatsam Graveyard. Don't know why, or wh...what they would want there. Please?" He seemed to shrink under the gnome's stare.

Mook nodded. "Did Mar have a room here?"

Nodding frantically, the human indicated the room right across this one. His eyes went to Zayel for help, maybe he thought as his friend had been made to fall asleep by the elf, he would have better chances of survival than with the gnome. "I don't know anything about anything else, serious."

Mook seemed to believe him, as the door flew open and the man, who had been leaning against it, fell out of the room and onto his back. The oracle walked right over him to the other room, followed by her wolf "You might want to clean up the mess," she casually remarked. 

"W...what about..?" the man managed, pointing to the body. 

"Feed him to the fish, for all we care," Zayel answered, managing to sound like this would happen around them all the time. Maybe, he wondered, it would from now on. Tiva hurried by him, after Mook, not looking back at all. There would be nightmares, for sure. 

The other room was even more of a mess, with scattered notes all over. While the wolf was watching their backs, the 3 of them went through the information as quickly as they could. It was all about the family heirloom – an otherwise undefined statue - the dwarf was looking for. It also said where to probably find it – the shipwreck of the Vaydren's Maid, which was under, so it seemed, another ship called Iron Tide. Some descriptions of the Iron Tide and directions followed, plus a few handwritten notes they couldn't read. 

"Perfect," Mook, now more sounding like herself, commented. "Let's go statue hunting."

"Why? We came here to find someone, and now we know both that he's dead and where the statue is. We did our job," Tiva dared to differ. 

Mook shot her an irritated look. "Someone got murdered for this statue, that should be reason enough to stop the killer. And, this seems to be a test for me. I get divine help in dealing with this folks," she indicated the other room, "to find out where it is and to get there before someone else could get their hands on it. So that's what I'll have to do." With that, she gathered the notes with the information and rushed out. 

The others followed. "What you have to do," Tiva mumbled, still pale, when Mook was too far ahead to hear. "Don't seem to need our help, though."

Zayel didn't say anything. As uncomfortable as he was, he would not leave his friend alone. Mook seemed to be as confused about what was going on as he was and she might need their help, after all.


----------



## Murasame (Jul 9, 2013)

*BUMP* ;3


----------

