# "Out of the Frying Pan"- Book IV - Into the Fire [STORY HOUR COMPLETED - 12/25/06]



## el-remmen

Here we go. . .

The end of the re-telling of the "Out of the Frying Pan" Campaign - which just hit its four year anniversary two months ago - will be found in this here thread.

The "Out of the Frying Pan" Aquerra D&D Campaign began in February of 2001 with five people.  A sixth member joined six months later.  At the point this thread is continuing from, we had lost three players (two due to moves, one due to school being priority), and were about to gain a new forth (introduced in the first installment posted here).

* "Out of the Frying Pan"- Book IV: Into the Fire* is a continuation of . . . .

"Out of the Frying Pan" - Book III: Fanning the Embers (aka The Fearless Manticore Killers & The Necropolis of Doom!!!).

Which was a continuation of these two threads:

Out of the Frying Pan - Book II: Catching the Spark (Part One)
Out of the Frying Pan - Book II: Catching the Spark (Part Two)

which was a continuation of: Out of the Frying Pan - Book I: Gathering Wood, which covers the first twelve sessions of the game.

Those of you who want to read an overviwe of the game's NPCs can check out the "Portal Thread", which also contains all the above links and downloads of the first two books in word document format.

* "Out of the Frying Pan"- Book IV: Into the Fire* begins with Session #64, in which the party (known as the Fearless Manticore Killers, but considering a name change), are making their way to the Freetown of Nikar by means of  a long trip that will take them both overland and underground from the isolated Little Kingdoms in the north.  In Nikar, they seek to train, get other resources like new spells and equipments, gather information, recruit allies and more than anything else repair Karack's shattered jaw.

When this thread was started the game was at Session #94, and we expected 8 to 12 more sessions before the campaign wrapped up - It ended with Session #104 (the session count got messed up when I numbered two session #44 in a row! oops! though there were two more "Reunion Sessions" that were never written up).

*****************************************************************
Session #64 (part 1)*

Anarié climbed a pile of stone at the edge of the hill and sat there, contemplating the battle in silence, while Kazrack made his way back to the others.  Ratchis was awake and carefully poking at his eyeball that hung on his face attacked by frayed threads of sinew.  Gritting his teeth he shoved it back in its socket and tied it in place with a strip of his hyenadon hide.

Martin sat there curious about why his mantle of green and black flame was gone and how it might have been triggered.   One thing he was certain of, it had been caused by the Book of Black Circles.b

“Wow, those things really exist,” Gunthar said, coming back into the camp.  “They aren’t so tough, though.”

Martin shot him a disgusted glance.

“Hey, I told you to stay behind me fat-ass,” Gunthar said to him.  “Lotta good growing all green and flashy did for ya.  Just makes you a bigger target.”

“I did not do it on purpose,” Martin replied quietly, fear creeping into his voice.

Kazrack tried several times to cast curative miracles upon Beorth, but failed.  Eventually, Ratchis came over and took care of it.  Kazrack cursed his shattered jaw that made intoning the words of prayer to his gods so difficult, but no one understood him. (1)

The dwarf went over to where Martin the Green had begun to search the dead dark elf for any clues or anything of value.

“Ut duh ya mehk uh dis?” Kazrack asked, holding up a long sword, and showing the mage the gray quality of the metal, and how it shone in places as if filled with speckles of some mineral, and yet turned in a certain way and it seemed to shimmer with shadow.

“I have no idea,” Martin shrugged his shoulders.  “Some Plutonic Realms metal, I suppose.”

“We dwarves have talesh uh theesh dark elvesh ushing metal lat eh evil in shum way.  Eh is shupposht tuh be potent, how-eh-er,” Kazrack said.

“It is not evil,” Anarié said, suddenly arriving to look at what they might have found.

“Whu ish et ‘en?”

“I cannot say for certain,” Anarié replied.  “There is something about it that makes it sharper, stronger, but if I remember correctly, sunlight will make it lose those properties fairly quickly.”

“Do you want to use it?” Martin said, standing and taking the sword from Kazrack.

“No, I would not use such a weapon, no matter how good,” the elf replied.

“I’ll take it,” Gunthar said.  “I’ll take anything.”

He swung the sword with satisfaction.

“Can I have the cloak too?  It looks great,” Gunthar asked.

Anarié shrugged her shoulders.  Kazrack took the cloak off the dark elf, and wondered at its craftsmanship. He could not determine what it was made from, but it seemed to give to his grip, but was tough and sprung back into shape without a crease. Each tiny stitch was in the shape of a gray spider, however, much like the sword, shadows seemed to cling to it when turned against the light of the moon.

“We have to leave this place,” Ratchis announced.

“Uh tink we shoult stay,” Kazrack managed to get out with great difficulty.  “Uh kwuguth cun track ush anyway; better tuh shtay uh night un gech uh goot shtarch in uh mornin’.”

“The quaggoth know exactly where we are,” Ratchis countered.  “This way I can try to cover our tracks.”

Kazrack nodded.

“Gunthar, help me with Beorth,” Ratchis gestured to the still unconscious paladin.

“What am I, your beast of burden?” Gunthar complained.

“You ur part ub our team,” Kazrack said.

“Go team…” Gunthar grabbed up Beorth’s legs, as Ratchis took him by under his shoulders.

A couple of hours later, they were making camp in a ditch at the bottom of a small gully. Ratchis spent some time scouting the area and trying to cover up any signs of their passing.

“We can stay here tomorrow and rest,” Ratchis said, when he returned.  “It will be light soon, and we will only have to worry when it is dark again.”

Kazrack tried to call upon the favor of his gods once again, and this time patience and diligence worked for him, and two orisons were all that were needed for the paladin to cough into wakefulness.

“Who…who brought me back?” Beorth asked, choking.

“Kazrack and I did so, working together,” Ratchis answered.

“Rerax, gurther ‘er witsh,” Kazrack said.

“Ha! That shouldn’t take long,” Gunthar laughed, walking over.

Ratchis explained to Beorth that they had moved from where they had been and why.

“In the future, Beorth, you need to stay with the group when we form a line,” Ratchis added, after a quick overview of the fight. “It is sound tactic against other foes, but the drow, being so deceitful, against them it is especially important.”

“Yes, I know I was a fool for chasing one into the darkness,” Beorth replied.

“You can say that again,” Gunthar added.

“Gunthar, shut up,” Ratchis said.

Gunthar laughed and went over to find a spot in the gully wall to lie in.

Morning came even sooner than they thought.


Balem, the 26th of Sek – 565 H.E.

Martin the Green and Anarie were on the first watch together, as the golden light from Ra’s Glory in the east streaked the indigo sky into a watercolor wash of blue.

“It is a beautiful day,” Martin said.  “It does my heart good to see the dawn.”

“When fighting such foes as the betrayers of my race one learns to fully appreciate the coming of dawn, and the brightness of noon,” Anarié said.  “Unfortunately, its coming also means that I must now leave you and your companions.”

“Why?” martin turned to the elf, surprised.

“I must return to Aze Nuquenra under the bright eye of the day to warn them of the drow menace,” Anarié explained.

“Will you re-join us when we pass this way again?” Martin asked.

“I cannot say,” Anarié replied.  And with that she stood and took her pack, and looked at each of the sleeping Fearless Manticore Killers and then jogged off, hopping up the steep gully wall and climbing over the edge and into the woods.

“Good-bye,” Martin whispered.

“Is she gone?” Thomas asked in the mage’s mind.

“Yes.”

“Did she take that fox with her?” Thomas asked of Anarié’s familiar.

“Yes.”

“Good.”


When Martin woke Ratchis and Kazrack, he explained that Anarié had left.  The half-orc shrugged, and Kazrack said something, but no one was sure what it exactly was, but no one bothered to ask him to repeat it.

“What were those swirling colored flames around you during that battle?” Ratchis suddenly barked at Martin, easing the tension by getting back to the familiar.

“I believe it was the book,” Martin replied meekly.  “I think it was trying to channel its power through me.”

“Looks like it succeeded,” Beorth said.

“I think it is triggered by certain spells, or certain kinds, though I cannot be sure,” Martin said.

“Then he should stop using magic,” Beorth said to Ratchis.

“Or he should at least stop using magic that forces a challenge to his will,” Ratchis reasoned.  Martin looked back and forth between his companions, ignored.

“Or someone who does not use arcane magic should carry it,” Beorth said, and Martin frowned.

“It is my task to do,” Martin said.

“When I picked up the book it… It wounded my soul,” Ratchis said, still ignoring Martin.  “It is best no one else touch it.”

“What spells make you feel like you might lose control,” Beorth asked.

“It doesn’t quite feel like that,” Martin replied.  “And anyway, I am not sure.  I felt something when I summoned that celestial bear, but I don’t know…I focused and it went away.”

“Hmm, I still think you should stop using magic altogether,” Beorth said.

Kazrack nodded.

“I feel useless as it is,” Martin dejectedly.  “Without magic I would become a hindrance.”

“Well, we need to move while there is still light,:” Beorth changed the subject.  “I hope they do not go after Anarié alone in the wilderness.”

“She’ll be alright,” Ratchis said.


They began to pack up camp to move on.

“Hey Doughboy!  Don’t you go all dark powers anywhere near me,” Gunthar laughed, turning to pee against the gully wall. “I may have to sprinkle with some of the Northrop holy water.”

“Martin, do you like being called ‘doughboy’?” Ratchis asked, glaring knives into Gunthar’s back.

“It does not please me,” Martin said.

Gunthar turned back around to find Ratchis’ broad chest in his face.  “Do not call Martin ‘doughboy’ again, or you’ll answer to me.  Don’t be such a rude boor all the time.”

“Oh no,” Gunthar stepped back, brandishing a smile beneath his full blonde mustache.  “I think you are boorish enough for both of us.  I should call _you_, Snuffles.”

“You can call me Snuffles; just don’t call Martin Doughboy.”

“It’s a deal, Snuffles,” Gunthar winked.

“Must you?” Martin asked him.

“How do you all get along without a sense of humor?” Gunthar asked.  “Maybe you can pray to you gods for one. Huh, Snuffles?”

“The only gift my god gives is death,” Beorth said.

Gunthar burst out laughing.  “You see?  Now _that’s_ funny.”

They marched south out of the gully, and then Ratchis began to lead them to a rocky area with very sparse vegetation.  It was steady climb, but he hoped it would lead to a place to cross the river, which at this point was far at the bottom of huge wedge-shaped crevasse.

“What do you think the drow attacked us for?” Beorth asked, as they marched.  A cold rain began to fall, echoing out across the hills.

“Maybe to kill us because we know their secret,” Ratchis offered.

“How dijg jay chrek ush?” Kazrack asked.

“Maybe they caught our trail at the elf place,” Ratchis said.

“It still does not explain why us and why now,” Beorth said.

“Well, hopefully Anarié can figure it out and she and her brethren can do something about it, while we are in Nikar,” Ratchis said.

“Have we given up our promise to help that poor girl, Rahasia?” Martin asked.

“Und what about Tirhash?” Kazrack asked.

“The Maze is more important than any of that right now,” Ratchis said, stopping to look at everyone.  “It presents the biggest and most immediate threat.  We cannot let ourselves get distracted. I want to save them, too, and will gladly join a group to go into the very Plutonic Realms to get them, but after we deal with the Maze… after…”

He kept on walking.


The next few days were hard walking, most of it uphill, and when it was down, it was through loose dirt and treacherous roots that led down to jagged plateaus of black basalt that seemed to have burst out of the ground long ago. 

The only foliage here was crabby trees, and thick vines on rocks that cracked them to reach the sparse water. 

The weather was warming up, but the nights still had a frost to them, and when their trail brought them above the level of the river gorge, a fierce wind would whip down and sting their eyes and chill them to the bone.

They finally reached the gorge after five days of marching, and all were disappointed that there seemed no easy way across.  The other side was at higher elevation, and they could see the dark shade of many thick green trees above them.  The gorge was as wide as two hundred feet in places, but they could see that further north were the gorge turned west around a black hill atop the opposite cliff, it narrowed some.

“We’ll find a way to cross up there,” Ratchis said with confidence.  “But it will be getting dark soon.  I’ll bring us another mile or two closer and then we’ll find a place to camp and get a good look in the morning light.”

Everyone agreed wearily.  Even Gunthar did not seem to have a quip ready.


Osilem, the 3rd of Ter – 565 H.E.

In the deepest part of night before dawn, Beorth stood and walked around the camp once more, as he and Kazrack kept watch.  He had caught the smell of something burning, now he thought he saw sparks flying up into the air from the other side of the crevasse; near where the other side turned away and narrowed.

As usual, Kazrack was busy carving away at his King’s Men pieces.

“Kazrack, did you see that?” Beorth hissed.

“Whut duh you shee?”

“Smoke… Fire…Sparks…” Beorth replied.

Kazrack got up and stretched, but could see nothing through the tall dark trees and gloom.

“Uh dunt shee anytung.”

“Why are you so busy carving when you are supposed to be watching?” Beorth reprimanded.

“There ish nothing there,” Kazrack ignored the question.

“We are not alone, someone is out there and they have a fire,” Beorth insisted, even though he no longer saw a sign of the fire.

“Well, whut duh yuh pehposh we do abut it nah?”

“Remain aware,” Beorth said.  “Keep better watch.  Make sure to tell the others first thing.”

Kazrack shrugged, but nodded.


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


“We should go back southward and find another route,” Ratchis said.  It was morning and the news of the smoke had made him reverse himself completely about the best route to take.  “We cannot risk running across anything that will delay us.”

“That is unavoidable,” Beorth said.

“It will take tuh lawn tuh guh ‘round,” Kazrack said with great determination.

Ratchis looked to Martin.

“It does stand to reason that we may come across other travelers in the wilderness, and we may not be able to avoid them all if it means we may never get to our destination,” the watch-mage reasoned.

“It sounds like something interesting to break up the monotony of this ridiculous journey,” Gunthar said, hefting his pack.  “Right, Snuffles?”

“We’ll approach as a group, but once we get close I’ll go ahead and scout it out,” Ratchis said, and off they marched.

It was an overcast day, but while it threatened rain, and more than once they heard distant thunder, the clouds never actually broke.  The ground here was broken, and often at an angle that made keeping a steady footing difficult.  The forest grew up around them again, and while not as thick as the forests in western Gothanius, it still managed to obscure the chasm.

It was close to noon when they finally came within sight of something unusual through the trees.

Below them they could see a raised road had been made with mounds of dirt that did not look like it was from this region.  They could see most of the top of it had blown away, and other sections had huge chunks ripped from it, but it was clearly a road.

“There was a great fire here, or something,” Ratchis said.

“Huh?” Kazrack made a guttural questioning sound. 

“He’s right,” said Martin. The trees here are younger than there were in the other part of the forest.”

“That road seem like it will lead right to the point the opposite cliff starts to turn; where that hill of black stone is,” Ratchis said.  “Maybe there is a way across.  I’ll check.”

The half-orc jogged ahead, disappearing into the trees.   It was not long before he came back.

“There is a tower at the entrance to an old stone bridge that crosses the river chasm,” Ratchis said.  “The dirt road goes right up to it, though it looks like maybe that road was once paved with huge stones.

“Who could get such huge stones up here?” Martin asked.

“Whoever built the bridge,” Beorth said, matter-of-factly.

“Yes, well… I meant…”

“Ish kunt be that good if it wushnt beelt by dwarsh,” Kazrack drooled.

“Who else would have built it?” Ratchis asked.  “It looks like something dwarves would build.  It goes all the way across, and part of it seems to do all the way down to the bottom of the chasm for support.  I want Martin to cast his spell of _invisibility_ on me, so I can scout it out, the tower and beyond there is some wide flat area.  I am not sure. I did not want to get too close.”

The whole group moved up to the edge of the trees where the road broke out of the trees and through fifty foot clearing to the entrance of the bridge. The bridge itself was made of huge blocks of a smooth white stone, but in most places (especially the seams) it was stained with a deep mottled green, or weathered to gray.  It was thirty feet wide and had low walls running along its length that seemed to have once had a wooden rail above it; long rotted away.

Kazrack sucked in a deep breath and let it out.  His engineer and stone-mason’s eye saw something that others could not begin to imagine.  The curves of the arches!  The precision of the stone interlocking and seaming!   The stone did not seem indigenous to this reason.  The central tower ziggurated by mere inches all the way down, creating a broad base of support in a way that he would have had no idea how to begin doing, and it was this that convinced him that dwarves had not made this bridge.

Martin cast _mage armor_ on Ratchis, who took off his chain shirt, and then he followed it up with _invisibility_. (2)

Once again, this time, unseen, Ratchis took off.

There was no longer any sign of a door in the tower that guarded the entrance of the bridge on the right side.  It was round and had a carved stone roof, like a cap, though it was greatly worn.  Ratchis made no sound creeping up the long wide steps up to the bridge.  The smooth white stone seemed wiped nearly clean of most small debris by the wind. 

The tower was dark.  He approached it, but looked quickly across the bridge.  It was at least one hundred and eighty feet long, but thick foliage and the flanking stone of the taller cliff obscured the other end.  In addition, near the center of the bridge where the ziggurating support held up a slight widening of the bridge, like a small plaza, was a squat building made of the same white stone as the bridge.

He stopped and listened; nothing, but the sound of the distant water below.

He looked in the tower.  Inside it smelled of animal musk and mold.  Nothing human, or even orcish had been here for a long time.  There was a rotted stair that led to the upper level, but even to Ratchis’ untrained eye, it did not look original to the construction.

The ranger let the tower be, and slowly made his way along the bridge towards the plaza and building.  Here he could see that the low walls that ran along the bridge’s edge were shattered in places, and others just seemed to be missing.  In more than one place cracks went all the way through the thick stone surface of the bridge, making long jagged holes ranging from a few inches to nearly two feet in diameter.

At the plaza Ratchis was taken aback.  There was relatively fresh blood here, and a pair of swords and a shield that looked as if they had been dropped hastily.  There was a shattered spear and several broken crossbow bolts.  The half-orc re-created the battle the best he could, following it around the squat building.

He could look into the gloom within the building, by means of a shattered wall around an empty window casement, and an open doorway.   Ratchis walked over to the door way and the broken remains of stone tables and chairs, and a stairway of carved gray stone leading down into the support tower below.

There was another body over by a corner where the low wall had been tore away all together.  The white stone next to it was scored as if by great claws.

Ratchis went over to the body and ducked down from instinct, even though he was still invisible.  The man’s chain shirt was yanked up nearly over his head.  There was a broken long sword just out of his reach, and wore a dented helmet.

The half-orc turned the body around and it let out a gasp, as wound near his neck opened and fresh blood began to come out in gouts.

“He’s alive!” Ratchis could not keep himself from saying aloud.  He said a quick prayer to Nephthys and in a moment the man’s life threatening wound was closed.  He was stable. 

Ratchis risked a couple of more spells and soon the man’s eyes fluttered.

“I am invisible by magical means,” Ratchis whispered in his rasp. “I will carry you off the bridge.”


By this time the others had made their way to the entrance to the bridge, sticking close to the tower entrance as not to be spotted from the higher cliff across the ravine.

Kazrack was astounded by the work he saw and kept mumbling about it, but no one could understand a word of it.

Soon, they saw the strange sight of a body bobbing along towards them six feet in the air.

“What is that?” Beorth asked.

“Uh ashume ish D’nur returning wish shumwun,” Kazrack drooled.

“I found him behind that building,” Ratchis said, still invisible when he had brought the man into the abandoned tower itself.  “There was a lot more blood there and claw marks, that I am guessing are from that demonic wyvern that was after Kismet and Schlomo. (3)

The man stirred as everyone gathered around.

He looked up to where Ratchis should have been and fear came into his eyes, and then he looked at Kazrack and then Martin and the look turned to confusion.   He had a lean build, and unkempt thick brown hair, and a beard growing in. He had the olive complexion of a Hermanlander, and green eyes.

“What is your name?” Martin asked him.

“I am Dorn,” he replied, choking.  “Where is Digger?  What happened to Digger?”

“I saw no one else, uh, alive,” Ratchis said.

“I thought I was dead,” Dorn said.  “Is everyone else dead?”

“We found no one else with you,” Martin replied.

“Did Digger send you?”

“Nuhwun shent ush,” Kazrack said.  “Unlee forchun.”

“Last I remember, Digger said he was going to get help,” Dorn said, finally sitting up.  He rubbed his face with his hand, and then gingerly poked at his neck wound. “He was going to get Flora.”

“These are you companions, you are mentioning?” Beorth asked.

“Yes, we had explored an abandoned subterranean fortress, days north of here, “ Dorn explained.  “There were six of us: Me, Flora, Bones, Digger, Fleece and Gissa.  We lost Gissa to a great spider’s venom.  We found a few things down there, but more loss of life was not worth all the treasure in Derome-Delem, so we headed back”

“What was this fortress?” Martin asked.

“It belonged to the Ancients, sometimes called the Mystics,” Dorn explained.  “They looked like men, but were here before men.  They once had a great empire in Aquerra before a catastrophe of some kind befell them.  They made this bridge.   It’s probably thousands of years old.”

“What happened here?  What gave you these wounds?” Ratchis asked.

“…the three-headed beast,” Dorn began.

“Oh. No,” Martin gulped.

“What?” Kazrack asked.

“Chimera,” was all Martin said.

“Wuzzat?” Kazrack asked.

“A nasty beast that has the head of a dragon, a lion and a goat,” Martin explained. “It is the creation of foul magics.”

“A goat?” Beorth looked at Martin with skepticism.

Martin the Green shrugged.

“Are you sure you saw no sign of Digger?” Dorn asked, worry in his voice.  He pointed to Kazrack. “He’s a dwarf like him.”

“I saw no dwarf,” Ratchis said.

“Ish Digger uh fumlee name?” Kazrack asked.

Martin translated.

“I don’t know; that’s just his name,” Dorn replied.

“Maybe you can tell us what happened, so we can stop badgering you with questions,” Beorth suggested.

“Yeah, if we’re gonna have to kill some three-headed freak of nature then I want to do it soon,’ Gunthar said.  “I’m itchin’ to fight something.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Dorn said.  “We made camp up on that hill on the other side of the bridge, as we were coming from that direction.  It was getting dark, and we didn’t want to cross the bridge at night because we were afraid something might use it as a lair.  However, in the early morning barbarians overran our camp.  They were savage, wearing wolf pelts, and necklaces of human ears and stuff.  The worst part was that they attacked to capture, and they got Flora and Bones, right away.  Digger, Fleece and I ran to the bridge, hoping to escape to re-group and plan an attack to get our friend back, but that was when the three-headed monster attacked.  It swooped down on us as we came across the bridge.  I don’t know what happened to Fleece, but I was knocked down by a devastating claw attack as Digger and I tried to get around the building, hoping that since it did not seem to fly well that by sticking close it, it would have to make wide turns.  The thing was about to rip my apart with a bite of its dragon-head,, but Digger blocked my body with his and then said he was going to get help.  He never came back… I guess.”

“Was Fleece human?” Ratchis’ disembodied growl asked.

“Yes… Was?”

“I’m sorry.  I saw a human corpse on the bridge.  I think it was probably him.”

“I wonder why barbarians would take prisoners?” Martin asked.

“Slaves,” said Beorth, and Ratchis growled.

“Let’s go take care of them now,” the half-orc barked.  “They could not have gotten far.”

“They are probably still at the camp,” Dorn said, finally standing and stretching.  He winced in pain.  “They said something about that hill being one of their ‘spots’.”

“You stay here,” Beorth said to Dorn.  “We will return for you when we haves rescued your friends and have struck down these barbarian slavers.”

“No!  I want to come. Those are my friends.  I have to go,” Dorn insisted.

Kazrack shook his head.

Invisibly, Ratchis nodded.  “Friendship cannot be denied.  He can come.”

And with that he called to Nephthys and cured the defeated warrior.

“Nephthys?” Dorn said, with awe.

“Yes,” replied Ratchis roughly. “Now just use a crossbow and stay in the rear. When the fighting starts look for an opportunity to get your friends out of there.”

“I’m pretty good at sneaking,” Dorn said.

The party readied themselves and then with Ratchis in the lead, they hurried across the bridge.  After a cursory look into the tower at the end of the bridge, they made their way up the stone embankment of here the bridge was cut into the cliff face.  On the right there were bright thick trees and bushes on a layered hill, and Dorn pointed it put.  The bushes moved as Ratchis crept through them.  The others fanned out slowly making their way to the clearing at the top.

Martin looked down and noticed that the earth here was spill over a manmade stone plateau.  In fact, there was a worn wide stairway crawling with manzanita.  Centuries ago an avalanche must have covered this part of the bridge complex and trees and other foliage had grown since.  He theorized that the flat top of the hill might have once been a plaza.

Ratchis made his way around a tall slab of stone that was half-buried in the earth, and he heard voices ahead of him. But suddenly a huge red and brown dog broke through the trees.  It seemed to be drawn right to the half-orc despite being _invisible_, and it barked a deep bark that sent gouts of flame out either side of its snout.

“Uh, I never saw those things before!” Dorn said, from the rear flank, as two more dogs leapt through the brush at the group.


-------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)    *DM’s Note:* Remember, Kazrack now has an 85% chance of spell failure for spells with any verbal components.

(2)    *House Rule:* Despite the switch to 3.5, invisibility has a duration of 10 minutes per level.

(3) See Session #57


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## Manzanita

Cool.  There are new twists to this every session.  I wonder if Dorn in a new PC?  There are some coming, aren't there?


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## Graywolf-ELM

Just the read I needed before bed time. Keep up the good work.

GW


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## Stone Angel

I likey I likey more more


The Seraph of Earth and Stone


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## handforged

yay!  I like the new developments.


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## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Cool.  There are new twists to this every session.  I wonder if Dorn in a new PC?  There are some coming, aren't there?




No, Dorn is a not a new PC.

We won't be seeing any new PCs until the party reaches Nikar.


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## Dawn

Whew!  Just finished the last four pages.  Of course I have gotten nothing done at work, but I am caught up.

Wow, where to begin?  So much has happened since Jana died (the last point at which I was caught up).  Jeremy and Derek dead.  Anarie come and gone.  Of course the return of Gunthar and friends.  What a fantastic journey!

Is Gunthar still being played as an NPC?
What will it take, spell-wise, to heal Kazrack’s broken jaw?  You don’t allow normal healing spells to do that?
Will the same type of healing be needed for Ratchis’ eye?


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## el-remmen

Dawn said:
			
		

> Is Gunthar still being played as an NPC?
> 
> What will it take, spell-wise, to heal Kazrack’s broken jaw?  You don’t allow normal healing spells to do that?
> 
> Will the same type of healing be needed for Ratchis’ eye?




1) The fight with the drow and quaggoth was the final session that a player played Gunthar as their character (Ken, who formerly had played Jeremy) - after that he was an NPC with occasionally being handed to Eric M. (aka Cairan on the boards) to run in combat.

2) _Regeneration_, _Heal_ or _Cure Critical Wounds_ would fix Kazrack's jaw.  

3) Only the first two would repaird Ratchis' eye.


Glad you caught up Dawn - now that I am done with my move I will be working on the next installment soon.  There will be a lot more changes in the next half a dozen sessions or so. . .


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## Scider

*careful prod*


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## Graywolf-ELM

Scider said:
			
		

> *careful prod*




I was considering bumping this myself.

GW


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## el-remmen

Scider said:
			
		

> *careful prod*




I'm working on it. . .


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## el-remmen

*This session was played August 23rd, 2003*

*Session #64 (part ii)*

“Is that your momma, Ratchis?” Gunthar laughed, pointed to the great hellish hound with one of his swords.  The drow metal smoked in the long afternoon light; he had already noticed that it seemed to be losing it edge.  “I can see the resemblance.” 

One of the two new dogs hung back, while the other leapt down the obscured stairs at the rear portion of the marching order.

Dorn hurried off at an angle to come around with a flank, keeping his crossbow trained on the monster.  He seemed a cautious fighter.

Martin let a shot go from his own crossbow at the approaching hellhound, but the shot went wide of its mark.

Ratchis took advantage of the first hound’s caution in dealing with an invisible foe and called to Nephthys quietly, as he moved behind the largest tree.

A bright golden and glowing spear appeared in the air, and thrust at the fiendish dog, but it leapt out of the way with a yelp.

Kazrack hurried towards Ratchis side, as the half-orc retreated, and with one blow of his golden flail, sent the hound down on its side.  It let out a howl followed by a cough of flame, and then lay still.

The third dog, leapt down towards Kazrack, but Ratchis was able to cut it off, mentally commanding the spiritual weapon to interpose itself and thrust; again it missed, but the half-orc’s great axe didn’t.  He appeared without a sound, steaming blood dripping of the axe blade.  The dog turned awkwardly and snarled.  It let out a sharp bark and coughed out a gout of flame, but it was all turned around and completely missed Ratchis, catching Kazrack, Gunthar and Martin instead, as the three moved up the hill.

“By Horus’ Hairy Man-Teats!” Gunthar swore, and thrust his blades into the creature without remorse.  “Outta my way pig-f*cker! Let a full man do this!”

The hellhound was nearly cut clean in half when it fell; its tumbling guts belching small gouts of sulfurous flame.  

The newly visible Ratchis hurried on towards the top of the hill, and crouching a bit looked into the clearing to see a naked man hold a crude morning star headed towards him.  The man had orange hair that was tangled into a beard covered in fresh blood. He had ruddy skin plastered with layers of dirt and mud and blood.  He was barrel-shaped, with stubby legs and arms, but he swung his weapon with an abandon even Ratchis had rarely seen. 

Beorth hurried up the hill, calling to Anubis to enchant his blade, and drawing the attention of the last hellhound. It seemed to notice the paladin’s awkward gait and sensed that he might be easy prey.   He spun around to gauge his approaching foe, but a caught a glimpse of the naked man charging across the clearing at Ratchis who stood at three o’clock to the paladin’s six.  

Ratchis stepped through the brush and stopped, crouching slightly in a ready position, growling.  The naked man let out a ferocious yell and leapt the last bit of the way at the half-orc.  The great axe came swinging up, batting the man out of the air, a stream of bright blood arcing behind him.  He landed heavily on the ground, but was immediately struggling to get up, oblivious to the pain.

Kazrack was at the top of the hill now, complaining that proper tactics would have had the mwait at the edge of the clearing to surprise their foes as they came through.  Instead, he had a clear view of the naked man dodging Ratchis’ repeated blows, and the rest of the clearing.  There was a large smoldering fire in the center, surrounded with stones.  There were two figures near the fire, lying bound and unmoving.  One was clearly a lithe woman with long curling red hair, and the other seemed like a mop-headed child dressed in traveling clothes.  There was a pile of packs and loot near by, along with the remains of a charred boar, mostly picked clean. 

A woman naught but a ragged fur that held her breasts in place came screaming out from behind the pack, swinging something on a clump of black line or wire.   She sent it flying at Kazrack, and the dwarf leapt up, as it just missed slamming against his leg.  He looked down and saw it was a desiccated human head filled with small stones.  The wire was the black hair still connected to the dried scalp.  She shook her spear in the air and gibbered unintelligibly. 

“Gunthar!  Kill that last dog!” Ratchis commanded, still trying to get at the downed man.

“Fine! I’ll take care of the bitch,” the Neergaardian said, leaping back down towards the hound approaching Beorth.  “That is what us Northrops are best at… Huh? Where’d you come from?”

Gunthar spun around and swung his sword awkwardly at a broad figure wearing a leather kilt, but naked from the waist up, that had stepped out of the brush. He had bronzed skin, and rippling muscles, and long locks of curly black hair that fell down his back.  The barbarian, easily avoided the blow, and Gunthar had to squat even more awkwardly, his legs still positioned as if mid-stride, to avoid the return blow from a battle axe, and slammed his head against a tree trunk.  He fell backwards, stunned; his weapons flew from his hands as he shook his head and tried to get his senses. (1)

“I hope I got this right,” Martin whispered to himself as he put the last touches on his long spell.  “_Tenerus tertio apshaii_! Blessed Servant of Apshai, come to my aide!” (2) 

There was a whooshing sound as two things happened.  A great insect glowing with white divine light appeared from a flash beside the broad barbarian that had surprised Gunthar.  It had great oblong eyes, and a triangular head, and long razor-sharp forearms that  were bent  backward as if in supplication, and pinched together with a deadly “Clack!” Its tiny mandibles constantly worked. It was over ten feet long ,and nearly seven feet tall as it menaced the barbarian, upright on its rear legs.   At that same moment, Martin was once again cloaked in a mantle of translucent green and black flame that reached nearly as high as the celestial preying mantis.

“Gods!” the dark-haired barbarian cried out, and just barely managed to deflect the creature’s bite with the haft of his axe.  He began to pant and huff and puff and drool, as a crazy look came into his eye.  “Gods!  Forst sends you one of your own!”

Beorth rushed past the great insect, charging the woman with the spear.  She grunted, as a hard blow slammed her own weapon against her chest and face.

“Hedda will kill you!” the woman said to him, thrusting at him with her spear.  Her muscled arms were covered in a fine red down.

By this time, Ratchis had made sure the naked barbarian on the ground did not get back up, but he had barely turned to gain perspective on the battle, when another wild warrior leapt out of the brush amd across the clearing, slamming him in the shoulder and neck with a club.  The man was decorated with tufts of hair of many colors woven into his leather harness.  He had a tall bright red tuft of his own atop his high sloping forehead, and spiked dog’s collar about his neck.  He had many sheathed knives and daggers hanging from his belt.

Ratchis barely got his axe around to parry a follow-up blow that would have crushed his skull.   He was saved from being knocked off balance by Kazrack’s arrival, bringinh his flail head around to hit the tuft-covered man in the crotch.  The barbarian let out a high pitched yelp and bit his own tongue, spraying blood and spit out of the side of his mouth.

 The hellhound took advantage of the chaos and took a bite at the still stunned Gunthar, attempting to drag him off, but Martin turned and sent a crossbow bolt that way, piercing its snout deeply.  The bolt flew through the mantle of green and black fire with no obvious effect on it.

“Elbow bones!” Hedda cried, inexplicably.

“Anubis, I call on your anger to deal your wrath on this barbarian who very likely eats the dead!” Beorth cried to his god, and channeled the divine might of his god through his sword.   The barbarian woman lifted her spear haft to block the blow, but Beorth pulled his sword close and whipped it across her bare side.  He felt a piece of her hip bone chip as blood came exploding outward. 

Amazingly, she did not fall, but pushed off the paladin awkwardly to regain her battle pose, screaming of elbows and bones; tossing her head about with such fury as her red-hair became as a wild flame on her head, that Beorth was not sure how she could even see his blows come in. (3)

Neither Martin or Gunthar were in any danger from the barbarian that had called himself Forst, as the prey mantis now had him pinned between its pincers and was scraping at his face and scalp with its sharp mandibles, reaching for his head.  The barbarian shrieked awfully and he struggled to free himself.  However, the remaining hellhound left Gunthar to come after the watch-mage.  It bit cautiously at Martin and missed, wary of the green flame, so it breathed some flame of its own.  The fire roared over the mage, but the mantle of fire absorbed it, burning even brighter for a mere moment before dying back down to its normal aura.

With a quick and heavy blow from his axe, Ratchis dropped the tuft-covered barbarian, and gave Hedda a taste of its blade as well.  She swung around to face both her opponents, unwilling to die despite her gaping wounds.  She even managed to parry several blows from Kazrack who came around to flank.  She thrust at Beorth once again, and this time he felt the spear’s bite, but gritting his teeth the paladin brought his sword down and cleaved her head open.  Even then she hesitated to fall, even though part of her brains were smeared on Beorth gauntlet.

There was a flash of light that followed an arcane word and gesture from Martin the Green and he appeared, bewildered on the other side of the clearing just in time to see a fourth barbarian, bearing a hand-and-a-half sword sneaking around in the brush to try to surprise Ratchis and Kazrack. (4)

“Ratchis!  Look out!” he cried, and the out of instinct the half-orc leapt on the broken base of a stone column in the clearing.  In many places very little dirt covered the bricked plaza that one occupied that space.

The last barbarian came charging out, roaring like a bear.  He wore coat of white and gray wolf pelts, with a hood not unlike that Debo wore.  He had coarse black hair and ruddy skin, and flaming green eyes that glowed brightly in the gloom of the cloudy day.  

There was something familiar about them, but Kazrack did not have time to think, taking a devastating blow to the chest.  His chain shirt turned the cut of the blade, but he could feel the bruise immediately swelling up, and the give of his ribs coming back into place.  It hurt to breathe.

The doughty dwarf tried to return the blows, but this new barbarian was a better fighter than any of the others had been. He grinned through broken teeth as he fought.

The hellhound turned back to Gunthar, but the blonde warrior had found his wits and one of his swords and buried the blade deep between the fiendish dog’s shoulders.  “How ya like it when I shove this deep inside of ya, bitch?”  

Forst’s shrieking stopped, but the celestial insect jerked his body back and forth one last time, before dropping it, followed by a partially masticated head.

Beorth whispered a prayer of thanks to Anubis, as he saw the new barbarian’s back open to him, and he brought his sword down, but as if he had eyes in the back of his head, the barbarian turned away from the blow, leaving only a deep cut on his shoulder and back, instead of eviscerating him.

He let out another roar, and seemed to grow several inches in stature, as his neck and shoulders grew even broader and covered in pale green scales, a bleeding forked tongue hung out of the corner of his mouth.

“Demon!” Ratchis cried, followed by a quick prayer to Nephthys to enchant his own weapon.

“Demon, eh?  Let’s see whatcha got, big boy,” Gunthar quipped. He brought his sword down as the barbarian almost lazily brought his sword across to parry, and then roared in agony.  Gunthar had seen an opening at the very last moment and grunted as he brought the pint of his blade through his foe’s wrist.  The hand dropped to ground. Gunthar smiled “Heh. I love disarming opponents.”  (5)

However, the barbarian leader was not to be dropped that easily.  Using the remaining moment of his blade he swung it up and brought it down catching Gunthar on the forearm and drawing blood.  Without hesitating, the wild warrior dropped the bastard sword and drew his knotted cudgel from his side.

The stump made a puddle of green and black blood at the barbarian’s feet, but it quickly began to grow over and seal itself, though the arm was still useless.

“Oh, stopped bleeding, eh?  Let’s see what else we can cut off,” Gunthar said, but his sword was stopped several times by the club.  However, Kazrack was able to get a hard blow in, and the summoned celestial preying mantis, clawed at him, but was not strong enough to pin him as he had the other. 

Meanwhile, the recently rescued Dorn had been slowly making his way around the clearing from the west.  He stayed low, with his crossbow loaded, and watched the action, waiting for a chance to make a difference despite his weakened state.   He spotted small figure doing some creeping of his own.  It was a boy of probably no more than fourteen summers old, but his gait, and how he held his short sword betrayed him as one to whom killing came easily.   The boy has his head shaved on either side, except for long trail of sandy brown hair tied with bits of dried gut.  His nose was pierced with a thin bone, and he held a sling in the other hand.

The young barbarian was creeping along the western edge of the clearing, within sight of Martin, but was crouching by the woman lying by the fire asking if she was okay.  The green and black fire still encircled him, however, so he was loath to actually touch her.

“Watch-mage! Look out!” Dorn called, firing a bolt that went wide of its mark.  

Martin looked up and spotted the barbarian trying to make his way round to flank Kazrack.  Unfortunately, Dorn’s cry alerted him and he let loose a stone at Martin.  The mage now had a bloody welt in his head.

Martin let loose a bolt from his loaded crossbow at the young sneak, but it missed as well, as he deftly dove out of the way.

However, Dorn’s next bolt found its mark, burying itself in the boy’s thigh.

Ratchis had leapt off the column and joined the melee with what should have been a devastating blow to the barbarian leader, but despite his many green and gory wounds, he would not fall.

“May the wretched blood of Thoon’s mother smite you!” the barbarian cried, and Ratchis swooned from the pain, as the bastard sword cut him to the rib.  There was a taste like fear and metal in his mouth, and he had to fight to remain on his feet. (6)

The celestial preying mantis kept clawing at the barbarian, while Beorth and Kazrack insured that he was fully surrounded, Gunthar and Ratchis flanking, The battle was a cacophony of ringing metal, grunts and hissing.

Martin lifted his reloaded crossbow to aim at the sling-wielding barbarian again, but suddenly dropped it and spoke some arcane words.  When he came back to himself, he was directing a spectral hand towards the foe.

“Just run away now!” Martin called.  “I don’t know what that is going to do!”  (7)

The barbarian did not let up his attack on the half-orc and a short thrust took them all by surprise when Ratchis dropped and the wild warrior followed through, slamming the flat of the blade against the side of Beorth’s head.  The paladin was knocked off his feet, his helm ringing in his ears. 

The preying mantis disappeared with a ‘pop’, and the barbarian spun as if to gauge the new position of his foes, and this was the opening Kazrack had been waiting for.

“Kur-churr, gie-guh muh bluh!” he said through clenched jaw, and the barbarian’s knee exploded in a rain of green blood and black cartilage. 

He paused as he fell, “I deserve this fate… I am weak.”

A follow-up blow crushed the barbarian’s skull as he dropped.  The dwarf let him have it two or three more times to insure he stayed dead.

Beorth immediately knelt beside Ratchis and lay his hands on him, passing the healing graces of his god into the half-orc.

The young barbarian ran full speed west into the woods.  Dorn let another bolt loose, but it missed and the boy was gone.

“He went that way,” Dorn pointed into the woods, but then remembered his companions on the ground and ran to them.

“Martin!” Kazrack grunted, cautiously approaching the watch-mage, who had seemed to have fallen in some kind of trance.  His body jerked and the green and black flames dissipated instantaneously.   “Ut ah-uhned?”

“Uh… I think I blacked out,” martin replied.

Ratchis crawled over to the bound woman, and began to remover her bonds, while Dorn held the mop-headed boy’s head in his lap.  Beorth noticed the boy’s disproportionate feet, covered with curly hair on the top side and thick leathery sole on the other.  He instinctively knew that this was one of the little folk, called halflings, but was certain he had never seen one before. (8)  However, he left the halflings to Martin and Kazrack, who cut the bonds, and instead saw to the corpse of a curly-haired blonde woman.  She had received a mortal axe wound to the chest and neck.

“Shull we bund duh undid barbariuns?” Kazrack asked when healing spells had brought the two living prisoners to consciousness.  

“To what purpose?” asked Ratchis.

“We cun kestion them,” Karack replied.

“What are we going to question them about?  They’re just barbarians doing what barbarians do.  Are we going to save them only to kill lthem?”  He stood and walked over to where the first barbarian that he downed still bled out.  “I say we let nature take its course.”

“Uh thunk we cun shuh them mershee,” Kazrack sucked in some spit.

“No, we can’t!” Gunthar protested.  “They’re barbarians!”

“They can learn, just as we do,” Beorth offered.

“No they can’t,’ Gunthar responded. “They are barbarian savages!”

The paladin looked at Dorn’s wounded companions and the still dying barbarians, and then hung his head.  “Fine, we will let nature take its course, but we must stay in the area long enough to inter them in the earth when they have passed on before we move on.”

It was agreed.

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

Dorn’s two remaining companions were called Flora and Bones. Flora was a bard, originally from Cutter Jack’s, ad despite her swollen black eye and bloody scalp and other wounds, it was obvious she was very beautiful.  She was lithe and had shockingly red hair and alabaster skin.  Bones was a tallfellow halflings.  Standing nearly four feet tall, only his feet and the hint of mustache that only grew just above the corners of his mouth gave him away as anything but a young athletic human boy. He had sparkling blue eyes, and a mop of curly brown hair and wore leather armor.

As the party discussed where the safest place to camp might be, Dorn collected all his party’s gear and possessions from among the barbarian’s things.  He laid out the rest for the Fearless Manticore Killers to choose from, and Kazrack soon fell to counting gold and silver obleks and other foreign coins for splitting.  

Among the things were also found a half-dozen dwarven “beard-scalps”, which Kazrack took and burned while saying a dwarven funeral prayer for whoever they might have been. 

Dorn was concerned about Digger’s disappearance, so while the others collected the things and broke down the barbarian camp, and made graves, Kazrack, Beorth and Ratchis made their way to the central tower building to see if the dwarven companion had gone in there.  All they found was a dark stone stairway going all the way down the tower support, and even a cursory examination revealed it to be worn and cracked in many places. It would be too easy to go tumbling down into the darkness, and for something down there to wait in ambush. 

They returned in time to help finish the graves.  Words of remembrance were spoken by Dorn, Flora and Bones about their two fallen companions, Fleece and Gissa of Bast, the latter being the dead woman they found in the camp.  Flora sang a sweet funeral song common to followers of the Cat Goddess.

Beorth gave a blessing as well, as the others stood by solemnly.

Afterwards, they all made their way back to the central tower and made camp there.

Watches were set.

During the first watch, Beorth, Kazrack and Dorn heard voices and splashing far below from the dark stairway.  They waited alertly, but the voices never approached.

They warned Gunthar and Bones about the voices when they were awakened for the next watch.

“Trolls,” said Gunthar.

“How do you know?” Martin asked.

“What else lives under bridges? What have you been living under a mushroom all your life like a crusty booger of a snotling like this little guy?” Gunthar pointed to Bones who sneered.

“What did you call me?” Bones asked.

“You heard me, snotling,” Gunthar mimed picked at his nostrils.  “I have pulled more fearsome things out of my nose.”

“And I’ve hamstrung men with bigger mouths that you,” Bones shot back, reaching for his short sword. “And I was drunk.”

Beorth, Kazrack and Dorn went to sleep, and Martin with the aid of his ring stayed up for the second watch.

An hour had passed when Gunthar started in on Bones again.   “Where you from snotling?”

“Stop calling me that,” Bones stood and put his hand on his sword again.

“Oh, you better get your little sticker ready, snot… I mean, _half_ling,” Gunthar spat.  “I’m am sure it reassures you in your half a manhood you have in your little boy pants.”

“Say another word, big man,” Bones threatened.

“I’ll do more than that, little snotling thief!” Gunthar stood and with great speed smacked Bones across the side of the head.  “Best teach you who you daddy is now.”

Bones drew his sword, but looked to Martin for a sign of what to do.

“I _will hurt_ you,” Bones said.

“You think I can’t take your little toy away from you?” Gunthar mocked and moved in closer, taking a fighting stance.

There was a flash of color from Martin and suddenly Gunthar was drooling stunned on the gound.

“Hopefully that will calm him down,” Martin said to Bones.

“I’m not trying to start trouble,” Bones said, meekly. “But nobody talks to me that way.” 

“Gunthar is just an ass,” Martin replied, and looked down at the loud-mouthed Neergaardian.

A few moments passed and Gunthar did not get back up, instead a slight snore emerged from him.

“Let him sleep,” Martin said.


Tholem, the 4th of Ter – 565 H.E.

In the morning, Flora and Ratchis took the last watch, along with Martin who finally bedded down for the second half to have the two hours of sleep he needed.

It was decided that they would rest here another day before moving on.

Later in the afternoon, Dorn and Ratchis scouted the perimeter of the area for more signs of Digger.

“What do you plan on doing next?’ Ratchis asked Dorn.

“Well, we were going to make our way to Cutter Jack’s, but with half the party gone I doubt we’d make it,” Dorn explained.  “I was hoping we could come with you to Nikar, and then make our way east on the Mountain Door, which is safer.” (9) 

“I will have to ask the others, but there is safety in numbers.”

“Actually, I wanted to ask you something else,” Dorn continued.  “Was it Nephthys that gave you the ability to be invisible?’

“Uh, no… It was one of Martin’s spells.  Why do you ask?”

“Um, when you saved me I did not know you were um, you know, that uh, one of your parents was an orc, and to be honest if I had known I might have refused your help.”

There was a long pause.

“It really opened my eyes,” Dorn continued.  “When I found out you were a priest of Nephthys  I was astounded… You see, my grandparents were former slaves that escaped the Black Islands Barony with my mother when she was a child, and she always tried to instill in me reverence for Nephthys, and I did give a token prayer or donation now and then, but this…”

“We can never know where her hand guides our own,” Ratchis replied. 

“Do you think this is a sign?  I think it may be a sign,” Dorn said.  He cleared his throat.

“It may be, but you are still free to do as you like. A reminder of Nephthys’ love is not a command to do anything in particular.”

“I don’t care.  I mean, I want to help you, if it means doing as Nephthys would want me to, and to repay the debt I owe you,” Dorn.

“Do as you will,” Ratchis replied after a long pause.  “We should head back.”

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

Later that same day after a long talk with Flora on various kinds of lore (and she recognized _Lacan’s Demise_ after a brief look) they showed her the black bracers they had taken off of Master Hamfast in the Pit of Bones, and she identified them. (10)  Martin the Green, not wanting to deal with the small chance they would interfere with his spell-casting, let Ratchis take them, as no one else in the party seemed interested.  The half-orc was happy to no longer need to wear his chain shirt.


Balem, the 5th of Ter – 565 H.E.

After a night no more eventful than the one before, except that Gunthar got away without taking a watch to avoid him and Bones going for each other’s throats, and more splashing was heard down below the group, now three members larger cross the bridge and made their way into the hills west of the river.

The terrain here was marked by scores of steep round hills covered in tall elms and maples, creating muddy tracks that wound round in all directions.  The run off of melting snow to the north brought lots of silt with it, and getting over some of the hills when cul de sacs were reached took a grueling effort in the increasing heat of the day. 

In late afternoon they came across an abandoned campsite that Ratchis was sure the barbarians had used three or four days before.  He was certain they had come there from the northwest, but he turned the group south to find a way through the imposing cliffs they could see several miles west.


Teflem, the 6th of Ter – 565 H.E.

The next day found the Fearless Manticore Killer and their new companions moving along a shallow stream that undercut the steep western cliffs.  Only narrow treacherous cracks that moved up very steeply would allow them to move westward, and Ratchis rejected every possible spot they came across.

“We can afford to go further south before we risk a climb,” he said several times after examining the map Martin had copied at Aze Nuquerna.

Just before mid-day, they splashed through the stream where it undercut the cliff and turn with it to the southwest, in order to stay out the sun.  Summer was finally coming to this mountainous central region of Derome-Delem, and while the nights were quite cold, marching in armor and with pounds and pounds of gear was exhausting under the light of day.

Ratchis was leading the way as usual, about sixty feet ahead of the rest of the group. Gunthar lagged behind admiring Flora’s rear, as she gabbed away with Bones and intermittently broke into song.

Martin walked alongside Beorth discussing some of the black necromancy spells found in Hamfast’s spellbook, and how to destroy them, while Kazrack marched steadily despite the pain in his mangled jaw from every step.

Dorn moved back and forth from walking beside the dwarf to taking the lead of the main group to occasionally see Ratchis when the half-orc was momentarily out of sight.

They came around a deep bend beyond which the stream broadened and was much shallower.  Caps of white foam crashed lazily over many stones, and occasionally a large fish could be seen to struggle to go up stream past them.  Ratchis was standing in the middle of the stream hand in the air, and turned back to hiss everyone quiet.  

Everyone stopped.

Before them, eighty feet down stream was a group of five bears happily fishing.  One of the bears was particularly large and grizzled.  Two more smaller and younger bears were on the western shore splashing around.  

The large bear sniffed the air and looked up, and then suddenly reared up on its hind legs and bellowed.

All the other bears looked up and one moved over to block the young.

That was when Ratchis noticed that the smallest bear in the middle of the stream was no bear at all.  It was a man of a kind.  He wore a bearskin and stood nearly eight feet tall, and half again as broad as the half orc.  He wore a necklace of bones and teeth, and had a short spear in one hand, and a basket of still flopping fish on a rock, partially obscured by another.  The man had a pinched and ugly face and a dirty orange pallor, and a battered battle-axe hung from his side; a bow was on his back.  Ratchis had seen his type once or twice before; half-ogre.

Ratchis took several steps back and signaled for everyone else to move slowly.

“What do we do?” Bones asked, moving up along side Beorth and Martin.

“We mean you no harm!” Ratchis called first in common, and then repeated it in orcish, though the phrase was a foreign one to his warlike people.

The large man dropped his spear and drew his axe.

Beorth sighed and pulled his own sword, “This is a battle we should not fight.”

“Yesh, D’nar, let us chruy tuh avoid thish fight,” Kazrack said, as the bears spread out in a semi-circle and moved to create phalanx with the half-ogre in the center. 

Gunthar moved up and readied a javelin.

“We only seek to move through this area and mean no threat to it or your kin,” Ratchis called in orcish, and then added to Gunthar in common.  “Stay back.”

“This is Shadarach land,” the big man said looking at each of the Fearless Manticore Killers and their companions in turn.  He spoke in halting common.

“We seek to travel through this land,” Beorth said, not knowing he was only repeating what Ratchis had already expressed.

“The stonefolk are not welcome here,” he said, pointing to Kazrack with his axe.  “They are polluters and exploiters.”

Kazrack’s eyes opened wide, insulted. “Why dosh he shay that?”

“I am look over these lands and its beasts. I am Shadarach,” the half-ogre said.

“I am a man of the woods, as well.  Please let us pass,” Ratchis entreated. “We seek a route west over these cliffs and through the mountains to turn south again to Nikar.”

“Heh,” Sadarach cleared his throat and then made another sound.  The largest of the bears went back down on all fours and moved beside him.  The half-ogre buried his hand in the bear’s fur and scratched it hard, while the other bears went back to fishing.  “There are many passes over the cliff, but you will not make it through the first coming of darkness if you go that way.”

“Why?”

“Your ancient kin. The black orcs,” (11) Shadarach said by way of explanation.  “Deep in the cliffs are the homes of scores of scores of scores of them, as thick as maggots on meat, and they emerge under the cover of darkness to hunt and find spoils.”

“We have no choice but to try,” Ratchis replied.  “Perhaps if we travel by night and camp by day we will have a better chance.”

“You will end a meal for your kin.”

“Do you know of another way?”

“Heh,” Shadarach paused.  “There might be another less dangerous way, but it will cost you something, though I hate to aid the stonefolk.”

“What arv muh people done tuh you?” Kazrack asked, angrily. A line of spit hung from his mouth that he had to wipe away.

“The stonefolk are polluters,” Shadarach repeated.  “The tunnels of the black orcs were once part of a dwarven mine that stretched for miles north of here within the cliffs, and as they devoured the earth they rerouted the river, and spilled the minerals of the deep earth that turned the trees black and sickened and killed the beasts and birds.  They are long gone, but only now  has nature begun to heal this land.  It remembers the stonefolk and shudders.”

Kazrack was silent.

“What is this other way?” Beorth asked.

“A secret way,” Shadarach replied.  “Under the cliffs, not over them.  It will also save you many days on your journey.  I will lead you, and I have an old map.”

“We have some silver we might offer you,” Ratchis said.

Shadarach spit.  

“Keep your gold.  What good is gold to me here?  I would have some tools and weapons.  I see you are laden with them.”

After a long negotiation, it was agreed that Shadarach would show them the way in exchange for Ratchis’ great axe, and the masterwork battleaxe that had been taken from one of Mozek’s brothers, and that Derek had long wielded.  In addition, he was given some other minor items, a knife, a whetstone, some sacks and the like.

“I will bring you somewhere to rest,” Shadarach said once the agreement was made.  “We will not be going until nightfall.”

*End of Session #64*


-----------------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	*DM’s Note:* Gunthar suffered a fumble forcing a Reflex save (DC 15) or fall and be stunned for 1d4 rounds. 

(2) Apshai is the Lord of Insects and Agriculture. It is one of the Beast Gods that is also part of Ra’s Pantheon.  His most common form is that of a great preying mantis.

(3) *DM’s Note:* Beorth scored a  critical hit with this blow, doing 32 points of damage.

(4) Martin actually lost control of himself there for a moment and cast a spell other than the one he meant to cast. He cast _Dimension Door_ (a spell he does not even know) instead of _Shield_.  The first level spell slot he had prepared shield in was the only thing lost. 

(5) *DM’s Note:* All of Gunthar’s dialogue during this combat was brought to you by Martin’s player (Ciaran on these boards), who ran the fighter in combat.

(6)	*DM’s Note:* The barbarian leader (called Thoon) used his _Smite Good_ ability and dealt 28 points of damage to Ratchis. 

(7) *DM’s Note:* Once again Martin failed a Will save, and found himself casting spells he normally does not even have access to against his will.

(8) Actually, Beorth probably had seen, if not met several halflings while growing up in Verdun, but alas, he did not remember.

(9) The Mountain Door is a road that runs east-west from Cutter Jack’s to what is called ‘the One Road’.

(10) These black leather bracers are burned and etched with motif of knitted bones and skulls, and flowing water, with a tall-masted ship flowing towards a red moon with a skull-face within it up the center. The left hand bracer has a sheath built into it that easily holds a long-bladed dagger or knife.
The art style of these bracers is typical of High Elves of Siron-Ehkor, while the content is not.  Axo-Morë was an elven knife-fighter and necromancer of ill-repute. It is said that the fact that elves do not die a natural death made him obsessed with secrets of life and death, so he chose to study necromancy and was exiled by his people.  It is said he fled to Thricia, and later settled in Haffar’s Port, from there he visited many corners of Aquerra, but was said to have been killed during a trip to the City of Ash in Dereme-Delem. *DM’s Note:* The Braces of Axo-Morë give the wearer a +4 armor bonus to their armor class, as the Mage Armor spell.  However, the weight of the bracers on the wrist cause a 5% arcane failure chance. However, any dagger or knife kept in the lefthand sheath can be drawn as a free action (as the Quickdraw feat).

(11) There are two races of orcs in Aquerra.  High orcs are live on the surface, or in near-surface cave and have intermingled with a great amount of human blood over the eons, and are a relatively newer breed of orc.  Black orcs are their chaotic subterranean cousins that live deep underground and eschew the light.


----------



## el-remmen

No love for the Fearless Manticore Killers this week. . .?   :\ 

Or is it just that the update is so long it is taking people a while to finish it?


----------



## Manzanita

Hey - that was a great update.  Martin's player must be enjoying playing Gunthor for a while, to get out some of that frustration at the black book.

What a nice bunch of NPCs the next player would have to pick from.  I guess it doesn't work that way in this case.


----------



## handforged

That was a nice battle!  It's interesting to see the effect that the book is having on Martin.  I'm curious to see what happens with the half-ogre.

~hf


----------



## Manzanita

August 2003.  Where was I then?  Can't even remember.  Looking forward to getting more of this story.  My goal is for Nemmerle to catch up by doing writing a session a week.  At that rate it would still take nearly a year to catch up, I suppose.  Oh well. Thanks for writing what you do, Nem.  It is very entertaining.


----------



## rigur

Still here, still great.

Keep it up.

R.


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> August 2003.  Where was I then?  Can't even remember.  Looking forward to getting more of this story.  My goal is for Nemmerle to catch up by doing writing a session a week.  At that rate it would still take nearly a year to catch up, I suppose.  Oh well. Thanks for writing what you do, Nem.  It is very entertaining.




Nice to set up a goal for yourself. ..  oh wait. . . 

A session a week would be impossible. . . maybe an update a week, and usually it takes 2 to 3 updates to equal one session.

Think of it this way. . . and update is usually 8 to 12 pages in word, so one session average about 30 pages. . .

Glad you guys are enjoying it. . .  Soon we will be coming up on one of my favorite encounters ever, with a whole new level of gross factor you have come to expect from the "Out of the Frying Pan" campaign.

EDIT: Oh, and I started on the next installment last night. . .


----------



## Piratecat

I'm finding that making myself write a session a week is fun -- not only does it keep the momentum moving in my head, it erodes the gap that was causing me to hesitate in the first place. I'm glad you started on the next installment! Really good update.  I'm glad I've started following the FMK again.

You have one typo in the first third, I think where preying mantis comes out as prey mantis. Which is also cool.


----------



## el-remmen

Piratecat said:
			
		

> I'm finding that making myself write a session a week is fun -- not only does it keep the momentum moving in my head, it erodes the gap that was causing me to hesitate in the first place. I'm glad you started on the next installment!




Actually, I have been a lot more into D&D lately (as you might be able to tell from my increased participation on these boards and at the RBC), so it is likely that the rate of updates will increase.



> Really good update.  I'm glad I've started following the FMK again.




So am I!   Glad you liked it.  Where did you originally stop?  How much did you miss?



> You have one typo in the first third, I think where preying mantis comes out as prey mantis. Which is also cool.




Uh. . . you found the typo I put in there on purpose and win a. . .uh. . . an "O-Prize". . . yeah, that's it. . .


----------



## Dawn

Still here!

Still enjoying the story!

Waiting on the next update!


----------



## Ciaran

nemmerle said:
			
		

> Glad you guys are enjoying it. . .  Soon we will be coming up on one of my favorite encounters ever, with a whole new level of gross factor you have come to expect from the "Out of the Frying Pan" campaign.



I don't even want to remember that one.  Ew.


----------



## el-remmen

*(part 1 of 2)*

*Session #65*

Ra’s Glory was beginning to set when Shadarach led them further down river to a recess in the cliff face.  Here the rock face was black and more jagged.  A large brown boulder that had obviously been dragged from somewhere else was wedged in a crack at the end of the recess.

“It ish guh dit we guh back under duh muntun,” Kazrack said.  He ran his fingers through his beard to comb out the drool that saturated it whenever he spoke.

“Do you trust this guy, Ratchis?” Dorn asked.  He wiped the sweat from his brow and slipped his helmet over his curly brown hair.

“I think he is living a simple life and what he says is what he means,” Ratchis reasoned.  “I think that if he meant us harm, he would say so and act that way.”

“Uh juss wun uh know ooh ease dwarves ‘at polluted the land were,” Kazrack said.

“They were probably just miners,” Ratchis said.  “Dwarves like any other dwarves.”

“Uh think et is dwarves that betrayed uh ways of ur people,” Kazrack frowned.  “Iss man seem tuh uh taken uh luckening tuh you.  Would yuh mund delving intuh who these dwarves were?”

“I think you interpretation is strange,” Ratchis replied.

“Kazrack, it is not like dwarves are known for their concern for the wood and the wild,” Martin the Green said, butting in.

Again, Kazrack frowned.

Shadarach grunted cupped his large calloused hands around his mouth and bellowed.  A few minutes later, the largest of the bears arrived, sniffing at the Fearless Manticore Killers as he came past them. Dorn stepped away nervously.  The woodsman pulled a leather harness from a sack he carried and gently put it on the bear.  It was attached to some ropes with metal claws tied to the ends and in that way the great boulder was pulled out of the crack.

He took the harness off the bear, and whacked it on the rump and it took off.  

“If you have a spell that increases your strength, use it now,” Shadarach said to Ratchis. “I will need your aid to re-seal it.  It must be kept seal so that orcs do not emerge.”

“There are orcs…in the tunnel?” Martin gulped.

“I will lead you to the spawning grounds. There are few there, and you may be lucky and not meet any, except perhaps some of their women,” Shadarach addressed all his comments to Ratchis as always.  “The women of _your_ folk are queens when compared to the black orcs that spawn here.”

There was a long silence.

“And there will be orc children there?” Beorth asked, as they moved through the crack one by one into the dark tunnel beyond.

“This lids tuh un intesting question,” Kazrack said. “If you have the chance tuh uradicate uh people, would you?  They ur vile, yes, but cun we kill children?”

Ratchis looked at Kazrack but said nothing.

“The black orc spawn will be as thick as insects down there,” Shadarach said.  “Their early years they do nothing but crawl in the filth of their people and fight for the meager scraps and even kill and eat each other so that only the strong survive.  It is said that even as infants, some gain such a taste for their mother’s teat that they will tear the flesh from her and devour it.”

“That makes uh deshishun eashier,” Kazrack said.

The tunnel beyond the crack in the cliff face quickly narrowed.  The others waited as Shadarach and Ratchis used the harness to drag the boulder back in place.  The surrounding stone protested, and dust filled the crevasse making all but Kazrack and Shadarach cough. 

In a moment they were in an oppressive darkness.  The sound of dripping water echoed in the distance above them.

Beorth and Dorn lit torches.  Shadarach led the way with Ratchis right behind him.  The others were staggered out, though Ratchis warned several times for everyone to remain close.  The half-ogre led them through the narrow tunnel past a maze of fissures and cracks.  In places the ceiling was so long, the half-ogre had to get on his knees to pass, while at others the crack extended way above them out of the reach of the light of the torches.  The walls were cold and wet, and the uneven ground was slick in many place weaving left and right, but moving consistently up, though many of the passages they passed seemed to go down into bottomless abysses.

“I hate these kinds of places,” Flora complained.

“Don’t worry, honey I’ll keep you safe,” Gunthar whispered.

They came to a wide tunnel that seemed to have been carved from the black stone as opposed to created by water and shifting rock like all the other they had passed or gone through.   Shadarach signaled for them to wait and then hurried into it and up to the right, disappearing for several minutes.  He returned and gestured for them to hurry and make no sound.

Forty feet up this worked tunnel they cut to the left again down another narrow crack.  Ratchis waited at the opening and made sure every one made it past, and then squeezed his way back up to the front to catch up with the guide.

“Soon you will see the true measure of your people’s evil, Ratchis,” Shadarach whispered to him.  “Lest the all your time among the men you serve has made you forget where you come from.”

“I do not serve men,” Ratchis replied coldly.

“Heh. You are poisoned by words,” Shadarach said. “You lead them from place to place and fight to protect their towns and books and walls, convinced by their many meanings and fancy words, even as they seek to stab at the bosom of nature.  You can believe in the oaths of civilization, but civilization can do naught but devour… Poisoned by words, weakened… You are less yourself all the time.  I have seen it before.”

Ratchis did not reply.

And on and on they went.  The torches went out and were not re-lit, instead they bumbled through the darkness, hand in the shoulder of the person before them.  Light would be too dangerous, Shadarach warned.  At one point, they made they way up a narrow curved stair carved in a style that Kazrack recognized as uniquely dwarven, ‘the stair cut’ was one of the first cuts learned by an apprentice stone-cutter like himself, and was common to both dwarven mines and citadels. (1)

They had been marching nearly five hour without a break when they first heard the echo of harsh voices.   There was momentary panic, and weapons were drawn.

“Not yet,” Shadarach said. “They are distant and do not hear us. But soon…”

Another hour had passed, when the narrow curving passage they travel down single file emptied into another broad hall that ran nearly perpendicular to the way they were traveling.   Shadarach stepped out and moved across the hall and up a bit to the right.  Ratchis followed, and Kazrack was close behind.

Suddenly, from down this thirty foot wide hall came snarling voices.  Ratchis could just barely make out complaints about being left out of the surface hunts through the thick black orc accent. (2)

“Orc voices!” Ratchis hissed to Kazrack.  “Pass it down.  Make sure Gunthar keeps his voice to a whisper.”

“Nun-wurriers! Muv mack shash!  Uh ill ‘old uh pussuge,” Kazrack said to Martin who was just emerging into the wide tunnel.  The watch-mage turned around and herded Dorn and Bones back down the passage. 

“If ya see something point it out,” Gunthar stumbled past the three of them to get through the opening and drew his swords.  Beorth who had a hand on his shoulder followed.

 “Hey! Stop pushing! I want to kill some orcs,” Bones complained, drawing his own short sword.

“Bones, be quiet!” Flora chastised, as she reached out to grab on to them and move away from the tunnel as well.

In the darkness there was the twang of bows, as Ratchis let loose with an arrow and Kazrack fired his crossbow at the surprised orcs that came around the bend.

Kazrack’s bolt buried itself deep in an orc’s neck and it fell, while Ratchis turned away to cast a spell, making his arrow go askew.

“Nephthys! Grant me light!” Ratchis called to his goddess and planted a hand on Beorth’s helmet; a bright light then emanated from it, revealing their horrid foes.

Before them were seven orcs unlike any in the group had eve seen before.  They had ashen pock-marked and scarred skin, blackened at the neck and joints with large translucent eyes.  They had the protruding jaw of high orcs, and broad shoulders, but were even more misshapen and walked with an uneven gait, as their bodies were lean.  Their ears were pointed like elves, but look as if they had been violently chewed on since birth, and the hair on their heads was greasy black and then.  The black orcs wore corroded scale mail of gray and black metal, and carried beaten bronze shields.

They shrieked and drew javelins from quivers on their back, but another fell from another arrow from Ratchis’ bow.

Without a sound, Sadarach move towards the orcs, and two fell for the bait, and then fell on the ground, their skulls cleaved open by his the great axe her wielded in one hand, never getting close enough to strike their own blows.

One of the orcs that had been at the rear of their group let his javelin fly and it bounced painfully off the half-orc’s hide armor.  Another threw at Kazrack, but missed completely.

A third orc turned to flee, but another arrow from Ratchis drove it to the rough tunnel floor.

In less than a moment, Sadarach had killed the last two.

“Dammit!  I never got to kill even one,” Gunthar swore.  “I hope it isn’t gonna be like this the whole time.”

Sadarach stripped the bodies, while Ratchis looked to retrieve what arrow he could.  Gunthar took some javelins.  

“What should we do about the bodies?” Ratchis asked.  “Other orcs might discover them and will be alerted to our presence.”

“It will be a long time before any more come here, and even then dead orcs are not rare among their own kind,” Shadarach explained.

“I need to do something with their corpses,” Beorth said.  “What are their death rituals like?”

Shadarach just walked away to continue to lead and the paladin looked to his half-orc companion for direction.

“They have none,” Ratchis said. “They leave them to rot, or for scavengers to eat them.  It is part of their beliefs.”

“Very well,” Beorth acquiesced.  “But I will say a short prayer for their damned souls.”

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

Shadarach led them at unflagging pace for another two and a half hours.  The tunnels were much wider and taller now, though those without darkvision had no way of knowing.  Ratchis’ _light_ spell had long run out, and Beorth had slipped his helm in a sack anyway.   Kazrack noticed several dug out areas where he was certain scaffolds had once been built for mining, and one side passage had track laid for carts.  Occasionally, they even came across the broken and rotting handle of a tool, or some moldering sacks and strips of leather.

They were all on the verge of exhaustion when Shadarch brought them to a rounded plateau nine feet above the tunnel floor.  It was sixty feet across and had three passages leading beyond it.  They all clambered up there.  

“We go through the middle one, but first we rest,” Shadarach’s voice rumbled in the darkness.  “Someone watch.”

“Shouldn’t we cump dun ‘un uh chunnels?” Kazrack said.

Shadarach began to roll out a fur to sleep on and did not respond.

“I think we need a choice of ways to go in case more orcs come,” Ratchis reasoned.

“I will use a spell to cover us,” Martin said.  He cast silent image and made the area look as if it had been covered by a cave-in.

They risked some light to make a camp, and soon despite the danger, all but the watch-mage were sleeping, as exhaustion took them over.


Anulem, the 7th of Ter – 565 H.E.

Hours later, Shadarach waked them before Martin had had a chance to get his two hours of sleep.  It was a truncated rest, and no one had time to replenish spells, if they even could; it was impossible to tell if it were night or day out.

The half-ogre led them down the center passage.  Here the halls were carved and buttressed, though they showed signs of wear from the flow of water and moving of the earth.  The halls were broken up by long wide steps by which they slowly ascended, though they could still feel the oppression of the tons and tons of rock above them.

A few hours later they came to a wide hall that looked like it was once reached by a stair-lined shaft on its right, beyond it was an archway that had thick cracked stone double doors ripped from its hinges long ago.

“Beyond here is spawning,” Shadarach said to Ratchis, while the others listened on.  “Here Shadarach leaves you.  It will be too long for me to get back to my lands otherwise.  Here is a map.”

He pulled out a ragged piece of yellow stained cloth marked with charcoal and blood and handed it to Ratchis.  It was folded up into a wad, and was moist to the touch.

Ratchis handed it to Martin.

“It smells,” he said as he unfolded it and examined the markings.  “Where are we on it?”

Martin lit a torch to examine the map (3). It was marked with crude runes similar to those used by goblins, which he had learned to decipher at the Academy of Wizardry, though these were somewhat different.

Shadarach pointed to a point on the map.  “This is the column room, you will find it directly ahead. Always stay to the left when faced when the passage splits off, but avoid any small cracks that just go that way.”

“And what is this?” asked Martin pointing to a green spot near the top of the map.

“That is slime column insect horde,” his big finger moved down the map.  “This is spider wall.”

“And that?” asked Beorth looking over Martin shoulder and pointing to a crude skull rune.

“Death,” replied Shadarach.

“What are these pale men?” Martin asked, interpreting a rune on the top right of the map.

“Avoid them,” was all Shadarach said.  “Now I leave you to rejoin the bears.  Geb be with you.” (4)

There was long series of half-hearted good-byes to the half-ogre, as he walked past them to go back the way they came.

“Ratchis, may your heart and mind walk free of the shackles of men once more,” Shadarach grumbled, and then he was gone.

Martin made a few notes on the map of his interpretations of the runes based on what Shadarach had said.

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

Less than an hour later, still stumbling in the dark and now led by Ratchis with Martin right behind him, (and Kazrack keeping everyone penned in from the rear) they all heard the sounds of lapping water ahead.

“That must be the ‘passable water’ marked on the map,” Martin whispered.

Ratchis went to scout ahead.  He hurried up a short broad stair silently, and came to an archway that once held stone double doors, long ago shattered off their hinges.  Beyond was a great gallery flooded with black brackish water.  The water level reached up to the jutting stone support the archway opened on to, but the vaulted ceiling was another thirty feet up from there.  He guess the water might be as much as thirty feet deep.

While the place was crumbling and worn in many areas, it was certainly the most worked and had once been an impressive room indeed.

There were the remains of several columns, both jutting out of the water, and reaching down from the ceiling, that looked like they might allow someone skilled at jumping to leap from each to make their way across, but even Ratchis’ darkvision could not illuminate the other side of the long gallery to see if this was the case.  The walls on the right and left were lined with many narrow steps and balconies that led to much smaller galleries and alcoves that seemed to stretch across the room as well.  Everything was decorated with interwoven dwarven runes and images of hammers, anvils and hearths, though much of it looked like it had been intentionally scratched out.  There did not seem an easy way to get over to either wall however.

Ratchis went back and reported this to the others.

“Leaping from column to column seems to dangerous,” Ratchis said as they made their way to the flooded gallery. “Especially since we don’t even know if some of those columns will hold us, and some of the jumps would be too far the weaker in the group.”

“That means you, snotling,” Gunthar said.

“Watch yourself,” Bones growled.

At gallery Martin cast _levitation_ on Ratchis and raised him up so that he might pull himself across the ceiling and check the other side of the room.   It took a while, but he finally returned.

“It looks all clear,” Ratchis reported.  “Now one by one you will grab on to me, Martin will raise me up, I will pull us over to the right gallery wall and we’ll make our across to the other side.”

Ratchis cast _light_ on his belt of chain links holy symbol.

Kazrack was first.  He clutched on to his half-orc companion for dear life, eying the black water nervously.

“Dwarf sure likes to hump the pig-f*cker,” Gunthar laughed. 

“Uh shay when we gut tuh Nikar, Uh guv um uh a lashin’,” Kazrack murmured to Ratchis as the half-orc grunted pulling them both across the small stretch of ceiling to the gallery wall like an ape.  It was only a small stretch of about twenty feet.

Flora and Bones were brought over next, as Kazrack moved slowly along the gallery, pausing to look down a narrow hall that ended in small metal door, before passing it.

Suddenly, there was the distant sound of drums.

“They must know we’re here,” Martin the Green gulped.

“That big log of ogre-sh*te musta let them know we’re here!” Gunthar cursed loudly.

“Shut up, fool!” Ratchis admonished.

“Hurry Ratchis, Martin, keep doing what you are doing,” Beorth said, grabbing on to Ratchis to go next.

Flora followed Kazrack cautiously, while Bones could not resist creeping down the narrow hall to listen at the metal door.  In a flash of light from Ratchis’ approach to the gallery wall, he could see it was broken and hung slightly off the top hinge.

Beorth was about to walk past an alcove, when he heard the suddenly sound of movement from within.  He swung out with the masterwork quarterstaff he had taken from one of the monks down in the Pit of Bones, but the orc leapt over the blow and out on to a small adjacent balcony to give those orcs behind him room to come out on to the wall as well.  It screeched and spun, dealing a deep blow to the paladin’s shoulder, and he stumbled back a bit as blood poured down his armor.

Several more orcs appeared from the mini-galleries further along, and began to rain arrows down at the group.  These were smaller and more hunched than those they had faced before, but with the same ashen complexion and broad misshapen shoulders.  Their black stringy hair hung from beneath their metal caps, and they wore armor of cured black leather. 

“We need light!” Bones cried coming back out of the hall.

“Augh!” Gunthar cried out, as an arrow bit him in the dark.  He, Dorn and Martin were still on the stone platform by the doorway in total darkness, as Ratchis made his way back.  All they could hear was the twang of bow strings, and the grunts and cries of battle. “Where’d that come from, ya bitches?  Gimme some damn light!”

--------------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1) The dwarven stair cut is ten to fifteen times longer than it is high, creating long gradual climbs, allowing for wheeled carts to be rolled down them, or pulled up them with less effort than typical stairs, but giving more control of descent than ramps.

(2) Orcish is actually a very difficult language to learn, and it varies greatly by locality.  While it has a very narrow base vocabulary, it uses inflection, context and body language to convey a wide variety of meaning to groups of words that would sound the same to the untrained ear.  It also makes deciphering the crude goblin runes sometimes used to write it incredibly difficult.

(3) Click here to see the map (warning to those on dial-up: this is a big file) 

(4) Geb is the God of Earth and Stone.


----------



## monboesen

A very well written update nemmerle. It really conveyed the feeling of claustrophobia, stress and ancient ruins under the mountains. Kinda like Tolkiens Moria.

And could the timing of the ambush be any worse for the heroes   . I think not.

Without really knowing it seems like you don’t dole out the standard amount of treasure and magic. I run my games the same way. But I’ve recently needed to introduce a level and class dependent AC bonus as we were reaching a point where attack bonus far surpassed AC.

Do you have similar problems.


----------



## el-remmen

monboesen said:
			
		

> A very well written update nemmerle. It really conveyed the feeling of claustrophobia, stress and ancient ruins under the mountains. Kinda like Tolkiens Moria.





Thanks! 



			
				monboesen said:
			
		

> Without really knowing it seems like you don’t dole out the standard amount of treasure and magic. I run my games the same way. But I’ve recently needed to introduce a level and class dependent AC bonus as we were reaching a point where attack bonus far surpassed AC.
> 
> Do you have similar problems.




Yes, I run what I consider a "moderate magic" game - though many would call it "low magic".

I have a Base Defense Bonus House rule where by class characters (and monsters) gain a bonus to AC that increases with level and stacks with armor (as long as you have proficiency in the armor you are wearing).  However, when you are flat-footed or otherwise deprived of your Dex adjustment you lose the BDB as well.

You can see the progression in this thread at the Rat's Nest - But I don'y have the listing for monsters there, however.  I can add it for you if you want to take a look.


----------



## monboesen

> But I don'y have the listing for monsters there, however. I can add it for you if you want to take a look.




Thx for the offer, but no need. I already have my own rules, yours are nice as well but I treat monsters very differently than the standard rules already. I don't think defense rules would mesh well (or be appreciated much by my players).


----------



## Dawn

Ah the confusion of fighting in low light conditions.  Just getting ready to pull that on my players.  
Nice write-up.


----------



## Manzanita

Hey, that's an update a week lately.  You're meeting my goal.  Thanks.  I know you say you can't keep it up, but it's fun for now.

And when are we finishing this chapter.  It seems the FMK has completed the necropolis of doom some time ago.  Are we close to chapter 3?

I'll be interested to see if Kazrack learns more about the dwarves who lived here.


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> And when are we finishing this chapter.  It seems the FMK has completed the necropolis of doom some time ago.  Are we close to chapter 3?




It will be a while.  Not until after they return from Nikar. . .


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #65 (part 2)*

“Nephthys!  Grant me light!” Ratchis called to his goddess as Martin lowered him once more to take the next person across.  He touched Dorn’s helmet, and now light shone from there as well.

Kazrack hurried up one of the narrow steps that led up to one of the galleries where one of the orc bowman made ready another shot, and cut it open.  It tumbled over unconscious and would soon bleed out.

Beorth smashed open the skull of the orc that stabbed him, and it tumbled into the brackish water, but more orcs spilled out above on the wall.  Arrows and javelins rained down Beorth, but for once the paladin deftly dodged.  Kazrack on the other hand grunted as an arrow found a spot between greaves.  

Bones yelped and fired an arrow at an orc that came through the broken metal door.  With the new light, he could see more behind it, as it fell clutching at its throat.

Flora’s voice filled the flooded chamber as she sung a rousing song of  Ra’s Light overcoming the darkness of night and Set, and the Fearless Manticore Killers and their companions, felt a wash of pride and courage come over them against these horrid foes.

As Ratchis struggled to come back across, this time with Dorn in tow (leaving Gunthar to grumble about being left in the dark again), Martin chanted his arcane words and a wall of flame leapt up in front of Bones, blocking the progress of the orcs beyond.

“Whoa!”  cried the halflings leaping after Flora across the wall. Martin’s illusion cracked and smelled like a real fire, and even gave off heat.

Kazrack continued to smash orcs with his flail, wading through them with the fury of his race, while more arrows rained around him and Beorth.

Gunthar cursed and leapt to one of the cracked pillars, leaving Martin alone to concentrate on keeping his illusory flame going.

“They are getting something!” Ratchis warned, interpreting their barks and snorts.  “Watch out!”  

He had dropped Dorn on the wall, and now made his way to get Gunthar.

Suddenly, two orcs came out of a narrow hall that Kazrack had already passed with a wooden board. They laid it out to one of the cracked columns and began to make their way across.

Dorn fired a crossbow bolt into an orc making its way down some stairs at Flora.  It wielded a heavy bronze blade that was rounded at one end where it thickened. (1)  Flora’s soprano voice echoed through the great chamber still filling them all with vigor, but the passionate singing did not keep her from thrusting her short sword into the charging orc’s chest.  It fell over dead.

Beorth hurried past Kazrack and into the midst of three orcs that had been firing down on them all.  He cut one down immediately, but was forced back by arrows from the two orcs out on the column, allowing the two others to reposition themselves above another of the smaller ante-galleries.  The paladin over-extended himself, trying to hit the last one, and fell flat on his face.  A moment later, Gunthar came leaping over him, as Ratchis had helped him over the last bit of the way across, swords swinging over his head.

“Get up, Baldie!” the Neergaardian chided, as he cut the leg from one of the stumpy orcs, smiling.  “Fighting these things is like cutting butter with a warm knife! Ha! Like the butter I spread on the ass of my whores!”

Gunthar covered Beorth as the paladin got up, shielding him from arrow fire from the cracked column out on the water.  Dorn, and Ratchis returned fire on those orcs, while Bones discreetly searched the orcs Beorth had left behind.  The paladin charged up and down another set of the small steps parallel to the wall, but a particularly stocky orc turned brought its strange blade down on the paladin’s already wounded shoulder.  More blood coated his armor.  

Kazrack’s progress to aid Beorth was hindered, by another orc that stepped out of a hall.  The dwarf tried to stop himself to quickly as he swung his golden flail and swept himself off his feet.   The orc showed its cracked yellow teeth and brought its bronze blade up, but it struck a lip of stone from a gallery above this level and tumbled from his hands. (2)

Martin let his concentration on the illusory wall of fire slip as he fired his crossbow at one of the orcs on a column, and moment later it slipped into the water grabbing at the bolt in his chest.

“Anubis, please bring me a little of your light in this place of darkness,” Beorth prayed to his god, holding his right hand to his wounded shoulder, and felt the familiar and welcome ache of his wounds quickly closing.

Kazrack and Gunthar dispensed with the orcs that blocked their progress, but by the time Ratchis got over to grab Martin, the illusory wall was gone and fresh stream of orcs came out onto the gallery wall.  Orcs with bows supported the bronze blade-wielding ones, but the Fearless Manticore Killers and their companions were ready for them, and cut them down with sword and bow.  

Soon, they had made it to the opposite side of the grand gallery and pried the intact stone doors on the other side open.  They marched into the dark hall beyond, Ratchis leading the way, and Bones smiling to himself his pouches a bit heavier with orcish coppers.

When they felt they had put a good distance between them and the gallery, they stopped and risked a torch so they might examine Shadarach’s map.

“Shadarach said that this middle area that looks like it is connected to several small rooms was the nursery,” Martin pointed  to what looked like bad drawing of a spider to Kazrack.  “If we go that way we may have to deal with the young.  I am not sure how I feel about that.”

“This seems like an evil race,” Beorth said, solemnly, looking at the rocky ground and not the map.  He ran a hand over his bald head to wipe the cold sweat, before putting his helmet back on.  “We will do what needs to be done to escape here with our lives.”

“Why not go this way?” Gunthar suggested.  He point to a passage leading to several on the right side of the map.

“There will be scores and scores of orcs there,” Martin said.

“Why don’t we just go through them?  They don’t look too tough.”

“And they will have shamans and witch-doctors with magics…” Martin began.

“We go the way Shadarach said to go,” Ratchis decided for everyone and began to walk.  “Put out the torch.”

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

They walked for several more hours in the dark.  Here the tunnels were wide, but had low ceilings with large uneven sections of ceiling that made the humans all have to duck to get by.  This area had man round tunnels at floor level no more than three feet in diameter that all seemed dive down deeper into the rock when examined.  In a few places they found the tattered remains of spider webs waving in the cool air coming up from below.

Beyond this the ceiling climbed again, the tunnel widening evenly on both sides, but eighty feet ahead egress was blocked by a twenty foot wall, at the to of which the tunnel continued with ceiling no higher than six feet.

“I think this is the ‘spider wall’,” Martin said.

“Naw! Ya think?” Bones snapped, and then let out a long breath.  

“I’ll scout ahead,” Ratchis said.  Martin offered to make him invisible and Ratchis agreed.  Soon, he was off.  

Dorn lit a torch, and Martin took the map out again.

Suddenly, Flora screamed.  She and Bones were in the rear of the group, but Kazrack had moved up to listen to Beorth and Martin discuss the route.

They all turned and Dorn raised the lantern.  A huge purple and white spider was poised over her.  There were puncture marks on her arm and shoulder, and indigo venom dripped from its fangs and from her body.

“Get back girl!  I’ll save you.” Gunthar pulled Flora back and stepped forward, his sword not even drawn.  The spider reached forward and sunk its fangs into him as well.  “Augh!” 

And then the spider was suddenly not there.

“Where’d it go?” Bones asked.

Gunthar could feel the burn of venom in his system, while Flora weakly dragged herself behind Kazrack.

“Ish invishibull!” Kazrack warned, and Gunthar swung where the spider had just been.

Bones readied his short sword, while Dorn loaded his crossbow.

“I don’t think it’s invisible,” martin said.  “It slipped into the shadow realm.” (3)

Beorth turned back around, his staff held lightly in both hands, and tried very hard to listen.  

It reappeared on the wall above Gunthar and Kazrack.  The foul-mouthed Neergaardian leapt in front of the dwarf.

“There is is!” He cried, pointing with his sword.  “Come and get me!”

Beorth reached up with his staff and smashed in its deep indigo eyes, smashing one that exploded.  It screeched and disappeared again.

“Shtand in duh minnel uh nuh corriderr!” Kazrack commanded.  “Sho et cun’t git ush from above.”

“Where is is?” Bones said, as they moved as a group.  “Oh, I hate spiders.”

“Ooh, little snotling’s scared?” Gunthar taunted.

“Not of you!”

“Enough!” Beorth commanded, and all were silent waiting for the spider to re-appear.

Suddenly it was beside Kazrack and he swung as fast as he could, but it leapt above the blow, and came down with both his fangs into the dwarf’s stomach. The dwarf could see himself reflected in it large moist eyes. Martin gasped as he noticed the eyes were unharmed.   

“It’s like Debo!” Gunthar cried. His long sword cracked one of its fore legs, and ichor began to pool beneath it.  One of Bones’ arrow stuck out of the hairy maw.  

“We need this creature’s attack to cease,” Flora sang.  “So help us out with some grease!”

A slick patch of oil appeared beneath the spider, but its many legs gave it stability.

“Beware!  There are two of them,” Martin warned by way of correcting Gunthar and fired his readied crossbow.  The bolt was buried itself deep in the spider’s head and it stopped moving.  “Stay alert!”

The first spider, the eye still wounded re-appeared behind Gunthar, who had taken that moment to turn and look to the other side of him.  He wheezed as he felt even more venom pumped into him, as the fangs pierced his back and shoulder.  He turned back around, coughing up blood, but it was already gone.

Everyone tensed waiting for to re-appear.

A few seconds turned into a minute and then several minutes.  Flora collapsed, gasping for breath.  She felt as if she were drowning.

“Hurr, jink thish,” Kazrack said, pouring water from a skin into his rune-stein. He intoned the ‘_findar_’ rune and she drank. (4) 

“Is it gone?” Bones asked, craning his neck to look around more.

Martin walked over to the spider corpse and cut free a fang, taking a sample of both its venom and its blood.

They all tensed again as they heard something coming from up the hall. It was Ratchis, still invisible.

“Beyond this wall is a deeper drop. It is probably thirty, thirty-five feet down on the other side,” he explained to them.  “It is wet down there, running water, and it much narrower.”

They followed his voice over to the wall.  They could now see that the wall here had been made, rather than carved, as a sort of dam of the tunnel.  The wall was made of boulders, logs, rusted metal, patches of dried and rolled spider’s webs, along with bones, hair, dung and mud.

Ratchis went up first and Kazrack was soon after him, grabbing blindly for the invisible half-orc’s hand.  

The dwarf was yanked up atop the thick patchwork wall, when the purple and white spider appeared.  Kazrack leapt to his feet, unknowingly getting between the spider and Ratchis, who had his sword ready.  The spider bit deep in the dwarf once more, but felt a strong blow atop its head from Kazrack’s magic flail.  Screeching, it disappeared once again.

“Is it dead?” Beorth called up.

“No,” replied Ratchis.

 They waited a few more minutes, but it did not return.  The others made it to the top of the wall, and soon after they were all at the narrow cavern on the side, Ratchis was visible again.

The ground beneath them here was soft dirt and the tunnel walls dripped and oozed with moisture.  It was like a pocket of muck within the overwhelming black and gray stone everything else had been carved from. The ceiling varied in height from as low as five feet to as high as seven, and as they marched along, a fetid smell grew around them.  The air was heavy with a mix of rotten meat and tavern outhouse.   They could hear churning and running water ahead of them.


Up ahead the tunnel narrowed to a crack barely four feet wide.  Just beyond the crack was a rough alcove, with another patchwork dam as its rear wall.  The dam was only about ten feet high and not nearly as thick as the one they had already passed.  It oozed a black and brown swirling gritty viscous liquid, and the stench was over-powering.

“We have to climb up through this,” Ratchis said, stepping through and looking up to examine the climb.  Something dripped in his mouth and he gagged and spit.  “Who goes first?”

“Send Gunthar.  He likes this sort of thing,” Martin suggested, his face pinched in a permanent look of disgust.  He covered his mouth and nose with his left hand.

“Not without light,” Gunthar protested.

“Nuh tuches!” Kazrack warned. “Dun cun beh guses dut combust dun hurr.”

Ratchis cast _light_ upon Beorth’s helmet once again, and then hauled himself up to the top of the wall.  He pulled up Beorth next, and then the two of them helped Kazrack get over the wall.  The area beyond was a long rounded cavern.  It the floor was flooded up to a foot and a half in gray scummy water in which floated chunks of orc feces that collected among the rocks in brown sludgy floating puddles.  Sixty feet wide, the cavern was likely twice as long, but none could see the other side.  Partially submerged great black stones that directed the filth one way or the other, making the place into a maze, blocked progress across this room though none of the stones touched the ceiling.  There were several places where more filthy water splashed into room by means of narrow channels carved in the rock walls, but it also oozed and plopped from cracks in the ceiling.

“Filth!  What is the flargin’ filth!” Gunthar swore as he splashed into the muck. 

“This is the nursery,” Beorth replied.

The other came over one by one, though Bones stayed up on the wall until Dorn was over and then rode on his friend’s shoulders, as the raw sewage would have been above his waist.

Ratchis hustled forward to check the room, and found the footing to be very slippery, and fell down to his knees and leapt back up splashing sewage all around.

“Oh, I don’t feel well…What is that little thing?” asked Flora, spotting a small gray creature that seemed to be paddling towards Ratchis.

“Merciful Isis!” Martin gasped.  “Ratchis watch out!”

The Friar of Nephthys spun around to see the small thing leap at him.  It was tiny black orc, no more than a toddler, with fat baby limbs, and a bush of wiry black hair, and covering of pin-like hairs on it ashen body.  It had a snarl of glee on its piggish face as it grabbed at him to bite into his shoulder.

Ratchis pushed it off and it let out a wail, and two more appeared from behind a rock.  The first was no so easily discouraged.  It came again.  

Ratchis stood and drew his sword.  He skewered it as tried to bite him again.

“Nephthys, forgive me,” he whispered.

“I have to get out of this place,” Flora cried, horrified.

“Continue tuh moof!” Kazrack said, his jaw in agony with each attempted syllable.  “If we ur fallen upon en dish room we will beh cut dun!”

“Kazrack is right!” Beorth said.  “We need to move as fast as we can through this room.  The young will not be able to catch up with us.”  

The two other orc infants waded through the sewage at them, mouths open.  One of them wailed incessantly.

The paladin hustled around them towards the first set of tall rocks on the left, while everyone else moved more slowly, wary of slipping.

“Look!” Martin cried and fire his crossbow.  On the left hand wall was the raised lip of a tunnel entrance that led to side chamber.  Standing there, mouth agape was black orc wearing naught but a long ragged burlap shirt, and woolen pants that it was trying to tie off with a long strip of rag.   It let out a grunt and turned.

Kazrack and Dorn let off shots as well, but both missed.

As Martin hurried to reload his crossbow, he also moved to the left of the tunnel entrance, however the orc reached out and swung his club awkwardly at the mage.  Martin avoided the blow, throing his back to the wall in time to see a horrifying site.

Beorth hurried to get out of the way of tunnel opening, and hoping to find a path through the room before more orcs arrived moved to a narrow space between two of the maze stones.  He could feel the floor give way under him and there was a whooshing sound, as the hole in that spot camouflaged by sewage and long clogged with feces, muck and bone gave way under the paladin’s weight. 

Everyone’s mouths dropped open as the holy warrior of Anubis dropped out of sight and the hole opened up draining sewage at an alarming rate at first and then beginning to clog back up.

The light was gone, and Beorth gone with it.

There seemed to be silence for a moment despite the eternal dripping and the gurgling cries of the orc babies, and then there were drums sounding the in deep.

“He fell in the sh*te-hole!” Gunthar announced, and then without hesitating leapt towards the hole crawling flat through the sewage feeling for the hole and then reached his arm as far down as it could go.

“We need light now,” Dorn said to Bones, who was still sitting on his shoulders, and handed a torch up to him.

Not disturbed by the lack of light, Kazrack moved towards the side tunnel opening.  The orc there swung his club half-heartedly at Martin one more time and then fled down the tunnel.

“You’re going down there!” Ratchis said to Gunthar reaching down and grabbing the now filthy warrior’s ankle.

“You better hold on to me Snuffles!” Gunthar warned, and then he nodded and Ratchis shoved him down the hole as far as he could, lying down in the sewage himself.  He had to turn his head every few seconds to take a deep breath or aspirate the filth.

“This disgusting place just isn’t right let its shame be revealed by a bit of Ra’s light!” Flora sang and in a moment her short sword gave off the light of a torch, but steady and unflickering.

Kazrack waited at the tunnel entrance with is halberd at the ready certain the orc would re-emerge, perhaps with more of his kin, while Martin began a long chant, feigning drawing a circle before him with his right foot.

A figure appeared in the tunnel, and Kazrack immediately shoved his pole-axe into its gut.  The figure screamed.  It was an orc with a long muzzle of a face, and pale ashen skin, only blackened in spots. Most of its hair looked as if it had been pulled out violently, leaving bloody patches of missing scalp.  It had wide round hips, and flaccid gray breasts with crusted black nipples and wore absolutely no clothes.  It was an orc female.

She fell over dead; the look of fear frozen in her lifeless eyes.

The male orc was behind her, and threw a javelin at Kazrack, but it struck the corner of the wall and missed.

“Pass this down to Gunthar,” Flora said to Ratchis, when he came up for breath.  Bones had lit a torch.  The half-orc lifted the warrior halfway from the hole, allowing the bard to put the glowing short sword in his hand. 

There was a blast of flame over in front of Martin as the muck before him bubbled and steamed, and from beneath came a stony worm whose segments burned orange-white with heat.  Martin commanded it to go down the tunnel after the orc, and it obeyed.  The muck hissed as it squirmed by. (5)

“My beast will take care of it,” Martin said.  “Let’s keep going.”

“And leave Beorth?” Dorn asked, as he readied his crossbow at the tunnel entrance, just in case.

Kazrack looked over and saw that Ratchis was struggling to keep from slipping down the hole himself, and moved over to give a hand.

But suddenly the orcish drums drew louder and there was the bellow of horn from the other end of the filth-filled chamber.  He could barely make out the silhouette of a tall and broad black orc wearing a bronze breastplate standing atop a raised entrance into the room, above the level of the maze stones.  Behind him, the red glowing eyes of his minions moved about in anticipation.
“Something is coming,” Dorn said.

“Shumtin ish here,” Kazrack corrected.

*End of Session #65*

----------------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1) a scimitar.

(2) *DM’s Note:* The orc fumbled and dropped his weapon.

(3) In the Aquerra cosmology, the ethereal plane is actually the Plane of Shadow.

(4) *DM’s Note:* Kazrack won an immediate action die for using a one-time use item (there are a limited number of runes that do not reappear for the same owner) on an NPC.

(5) This was a thoqqua.


----------



## el-remmen

I have been feeling the love so strongly lately, I am doing my best to hang in there on the weekly updates. 

I am five pages into the next installment and have even started updating the "Out of the Frying Pan" Rogue's Gallery Thread.


*In the next installment you will see one or more of the following things:*
Martin Raises the Dead!
Ratchis gets in touch with his savage side.
Kazrack mumbles incoherently
Gunthar takes up flower-arranging.


----------



## Dawn

Well, let me be the first to keep the lovin’ flowing!

Gunthar and flower-arranging…….now there is a mental image.


----------



## Jon Potter

Dawn said:
			
		

> Gunthar and flower-arranging…….now there is a mental image.




And not a very pretty one. Although after his trip "down the drain" he'll likely need something floral to freshen up his odor.


----------



## Pyske

Yep, I'm caught up again, so keep up the good work.  I look forward to the next update.


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## Manzanita

great job Nemmerle!  Love your pace.  Keep us the good work.


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## Tony Vargas

nemmerle said:
			
		

> Yes, I run what I consider a "moderate magic" game - though many would call it "low magic".



 'Low Magic' probably isn't fair - if it were genuinely low-magic, you wouldn't have core clerics and wizards as PCs, you'd want to tone down spellcasting.  I guess it's probably fair to say 'low wealth,' though, in that the PCs don't have as many or as powerful (nor as free a choice of) magic items as in a default 3E game...  Martin's spellbook is probably embarrassingly thin, as well (not counting the evil book, that is).  In fact, whenever I hear someone complaining about how 'overpowered' wizards are, I just think of Martin...


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #66*

“We have to get out of here,” Dorn said, stepping away from the tunnel entrance, and looking at the others with desperation.

“Nut wit-out Beort!” Kazrack said.  The dwarf moved to Ratchis.  “Duh ya wunt meh tuh ‘old er uncles?”

“There are orcs coming?” Ratchis asked, sitting up to get his breath and pulling Gunthar back up for air as well.

“Down! Down! He’s barely holding on by a pube just out of reach!” Gunthar spat, his face and hair were a smeared brown mess and his eyes were burning bright red with irritation.

“_Imago Crearé Majorus!_ Martin chanted, and a wall of flame shot up at the far entrance.  The orcs howled in anger.  “That should give you some time!”

Ratchis nodded and shoved Gunthar back in the hole, and Kazrack grabbed onto the half-orc’s legs.  Ratchis was now in the hole near his ankles headfirst. 

Screams echoed out of the tunnel Martin had sent the Thoqqua down.

“Beh ready fer those uks!” Kazrack commanded, drool bubbling over onto his beard.  “Dun! Ull have tuh gud meh.”

Bones leapt from Dorn’s shoulder and atop of one the tall partially sunken rocks that made this maze of filth.  He hopped deftly from rock to rock to get a good vantage of the orcs.  He wedged the torch between two of the stones and drew his short bow.

“Aah!” Martin cried, as one of the forgotten orc babies had caught up to him and began to chew on his calf.

As he tried to kick it away they all heard raised orcish voices from behind the wall of fire.  They seemed to be chanting in time, but above the chant was one desperate voice say “Nagh! Nagh! Nagh! Naaaaaaagh!” (1)

“Oh my corns and bunions!” Bones swore, watching the action from his perch. “Those crazy orcs are throwing themselves through the fire.”

The orc on the other side of the room, sat up dazed, spitting and shaking his head, before making his woozy way to his feet.  Now safely on the other side of the fire, he mocked his companions as cowards.

The orcs wasted no time to throw another through, followed by one that leapt of his own volition.

“They are gonna start coming this way,” Bones warned.

“Duh ‘est uh you have tuh ock eh enneneh un pick dem oshf uz dem come truh,” Kazrack mumbled vehemently.

“Uh… what?” Flora asked, bewildered.  “Which way do we go?”

“Yuh ned tuh brin duh shire-urm buck, Mutton!” Kazrack craned his neck to look at the green-robed mage.

“Uh, I need to keep the fire wall up, unless you want them to all come through at once,” Martin shot back, guessing at what Kazrack had said.

The three orcs that had made it through so far began to make their way towards the party, stopping occasionally to listen for splashing and voices.  They kept close to the tall stones, often out of view of Bones.

The halfling crouched down, disappearing into the crease of two stones, as he spied two pass him moving from right to left, he spilled out a pouch of coins. 

“Come and get me!  Come and get some shinies!” Bones taunted, and the two orcs turned around.  One sheathed his thick bronze blade and drew his bow, while the other tried to retrieve the coins.

Meanwhile the third orc had gone snuck past on the right and came around a large stone to appear beside Kazrack.  The blade came down on the hollering dwarf.  The blade struck heavily, but its cutting side was turned by the dwarf’s chain shirt.  He slid to the left, splashing into the muck and felt Ratchi’s feet slipping through his gauntlets.

“Can’t…lit…Borth…dun…” he struggled, but to no avail.  Ratchis slipped all the way down into the hole.

Ratchis felt himself slip a couple of feet, and instinctively drove his legs and arms into the sides of the hole to keep from slipping freely.  The sides of the wall, crumbled beneath his great grip, and he had to continually re-adjust to keep from going.  He could feel Gunthar scrambling desperately beneath him, clutching at his cloak and arm.

Dorn jerked out of shock and fired his crossbow at the orc that was about to cleave the scrambling Kazrack in twain.  The orc fell with a grunt and a splash, thick green blood floating atop the curdling sewage.  Kazrack immediately leapt back to the hole and threw his arm down to grab hold of Ratchis.

Bones leapt back towards the others atop the tall rocks, as he felt the nip of an orc arrow.  The two orcs came around the stone and one fell upon Kazrack with his sword; once again the dwarf was wounded and had to withdraw.  Ratchis cursed as he felt the dwarf’s grip loosen, and even more slid into his mouth.

Dorn fired his crossbow again, but though he missed, it caused the orc on Kazrack to hesitate.   The dwarf grabbed a spear of the dropped orc and shoved into the hole, butt first for Ratchis to grab on to.   He looked up in time to see the orc swing down on him again, but he was barely able to avoid the blow, when Flora fired her bow point blank at the orc, sending his blow astray.  The arrow, however, still managed to miss.

“Argh!” Martin cried more from frustration than pain. One of the orc young managed to catch up to him again and this time the tiny sharp teeth made him lose his concentration.  “I lost it!  The wall of fire is going to come down momentarily.”

The orc by Kazrack turned to it left and charged at Dorn. The bushy haired warrior, swung around to get out of the way, but felt the heavy blade smack his shoulder.   The orc that had collected some of Bones’ spilled money came around the stone, arrow ready to shoot Kazrack, but a bolt from Martin send it floating face down in the sewage.

Gunthar managed to climb out of the draining hole, using Ratchis as a makeshift rope, and then he and Kazrack dragged the half-orc onto the chamber floor.  The three of them lay there prone for a moment, bubbling in filth as they took deep breaths to get their strength back.

“There are more coming around behind me the other way!” Bones warned.  One came around the corner and met death on the end of arrow flying from Flora’s bow, while the one going after Dorn dropped with one of Martin’s quarrels in its back.

“_Hush orc babies!_ Flora cooed, and the orc infants fell into a slumber sinking into filth to drown.  One of the approaching orcs took advantage of her distraction and forced her back with a whip of his blade across her face, bringing up a welt, another orc came around to support his companion.

“You will all drown in your own blood and filth this day!” Ratchis bellowed in orcish, and he cut the head from the orc attacking Flora.

“Beorth is gone,” Gunthar said, leaping to feet as well, trying to wipe his mouth the back of his hand, which was as filth-covered as the rest of him.  “I’m gonna kill every last one of these pig-f*ckin’ pigs!”  Gunthar’s sword had not stopped ringing from being drawn when it he pulld it back out of the gut of the dying orc that had just come around the corner.  

Readying his flail, Kazrack put his back to one of the rocks and checked around the corner the orcs had come from.

He looked back and shook his head to indicate he saw no more orcs coming at the moment. 

A handful of more orcs came around from the other side of the collection of stones in the center and with an arcane word, Martin the Green made them drop off to sleep as well.  However, at that same moment he became engulfed in a mantle of green and black fire that threw tall shadows on the black rocks around him.

“Not again…”

“Mutton!” Kazrack began to step towards his companion, when another orc came around from the way that had been clear a moment before and let loose a javelin that struck him squarely in the back; only armor kept Kazrack from being skewered.  

Gunthar hurried around the corner to support Kazrack, but as the dwarf turned suddenly to defend himself, he slipped in the muck under foot and went down.

“Get off your lard-ass, stumpy!” Gunthar chided.

Ratchis took some time to heal Bones (who had come back), while Flora used a song to close some of her own wounds.  Martin and Dorn moved to follow Gunthar and Kazrack through the tall stones.  

These four had made it to the other side of nursery chamber.  They could see there were a total of three raised tunnel entrances like the one Martin had sent the thoqqua down on each side of the chamber.  The stone on this side had sunken further, and many could be seen over, or easily squatted behind.  The illusory wall of fire was done and the black-faced orc with splayed nostril, eyes like burning coals and broad shoulders made misshapen with bone spurs bellowed commands in orcish to his troop.  They wore the gray scale mail of the other orcs they had faced so far, but it seemed in better shape, and their swords were not as badly dinged and beaten.  He held a thick haft in both hands, each end holding a fan-shaped axe blade notched in several places, but still sharp enough.

Gunthar and Kazrack looked on from around ether side of a particularly large rock.

“Looks like a 2-for-1 pork special down at the market,” Gunthar smiled.  Two orcs began to lead the way for their companion by way of the large rock and Kazrack was startled to find his guard down.  He barely blocked the blade, and felt the weight of the blow send tremors down his arm.

“Come here, pork-chop!” Gunthar said, stepping out and cutting out the kidneys of one with his long sword.

“Yuh uhz nuh ope!  We uhz uh duck demon from ‘ill un ur side!” Kazrack said, joining the fray to keep the orcs from advancing any further, hoping to intimidate them into hesitating or even retreating.

“What’s going on?” asked Martin, his mantle of fire looming tall in the chamber, sending glints of green light to reflect on the moisture beading up on the ceiling and down the running trickles of waste pouring down cracks in the rocks.  He came around to view the open area.  An orc toddler covered in fine gray hair came splashing at the mage.  It had large open festering sores on his fat cheeks and chest.   It let out a shriek that was instantly cut off as a bolt from Dorn’s crossbow went through its neck.

Ratchis ran through the narrow path between stones over where Gunthar and Kazrack had killed some orcs before moving on, to find that Bones had already snuck over there and was taking what valuables he could from them.

The halfling looked up at Ratchis and an expression of having been caught on his usually fresh face, now worn with dirt and fear, changed to a smile.   ‘Don’t worry, I’ll cut you all in on the spoils.”

“Good, we’ll need it,” Ratchis said, and moved on.  Flora followed close behind.

“More orcs over here!” Gunthar said, moving to the left side of the room where six orcs were trying to cut off the group by sneaking past some tall stones.  “Here piggy! Piggy! Piggy!”

An orc shoved another frightened female at the Neergaardian.  She shrieked and swung a club half-heartedly, her face looked freshly beaten and bloody.   Gunthar cut her down and moved on to the one that did the pushing, and in a moment it was dead in the muck as well.

“Full buck, Gunter!” Kazrack called.  There was another half dozen orc streaming off the platform, and coming in his direction and he could not keep them all from advancing.  

One made it around the rock, and stabbed at Martin.

Martin cried out, his robes tearing where the blade hit his upraised forearm, but it was the shriek of the orc that was most startling.  The green and black flames around Martin shot up the blade and seared the orc’s arm.  It fell over, its arm distended and curling back where the flame has scorched it.

Ratchis healed Kazrack with a spell, as he came into the melee, and then thinking better of entering quite yet, stepped back and asked Nephthys for _Bull’s Strength_ for himself, as well.  Flora stepped out from behind a rock and screeched.  Two orcs fell over, bleeding from the ears, while the others managed to cover their ears with their closed fists enough to resist the _sound burst_. 

Ratchis took advantage of the distraction to break through the orc line and call to the leader who leapt off the raised stone lip of the other entrance.

“Come and face me leader of scum!” Ratchis challenged, as he spun around cleaving into the head of an orc, while leaning back to avoid the swing of another one causing it to slip in the muck and fall prone.  It clambered quickly back on to its hands and feet, but a bolt from Dorn sent it back down.

The orcs lined up behind the tall rocks on the left hand side of the top of the room, unable to go further because Gunthar clogged the way in heated combat with a particularly fat orc wielding a morningstar and a shield, popped up and all chucked javelins at Ratchis, but he cut them out of the air with a roar.

Another fat orc with a shield and a morningstar came roaring out from behind a rock.  Kazrack turned and slammed the head of his flail in the thing’s face.   Ratchis swung right and cut the legs out from under it and followed up with a downward chop to the face.  He was barely able to bring his sword up in time to deflect a blow of the leader’s double ace.  Knocked out of alignment, the heavy haft cracked against Ratchis’ collarbone and then smacked him one the side of the head as it was brutishly pulled back.

The orc snorted and spat a big yellow and green hawker in Ratchis’ face.  The half-orc searched it out with his tongue and swallowed it with a smile, and the fell into a frantic melee.

Gunthar finally finished his own fat orc and cut into the line behind it with glee.  The orcs withdrew and tried to come around the tall rocks from the other side, meeting arrow fire from Flora, Bones, and Dorn.
Dorn looked back at Martin with a smile that quickly became look of horror.  Martin’s eyes were rolled back into his head and he had his arms outstretched and a large black book clutched to his chest.

“_Ash nisarg eh sem necros porsh_,” he chanted, and suddenly five of the dead orcs began to climb to their feet, their bodies twisted and rigid.  

“Kill them all!” Martin the Green commanded.

“Ratchis! Zombies!” Dorn warned as the shambling dead stagger forward and slammed their former companions with their undead strength.

“MARTIN!” Ratchis roared. “GET RID OF THESE FOUL CREATURES NOW!”

The orcs seemed equally mortified.  One shrieked and let off attacking Kazrack to go after one of the zombies, but Ratchis and Kazrack ignored them, concentrating blows on the plate-armored orc leader.  The orc captain winced as his armor crunched beneath one of Kazrack’s blows, but he was successful at keeping Ratchis’ repeated blows at bay.

“_Manus il spectro!_ Martin chanted, and a translucent hand appeared before him, and sent it after one of the orcs; that one shrieked as well.

Three orcs seeking to flee the zombies, decide the best way to go was through Kazrack.  They rushed him, sword up raised, but the dwarf side-stepped and knocked one blade into another to send them both off line. The last blade fell just short of his barrel chest.  Kazrack swung his flail over his head and brought it around for a skull-crushing blow, but it clipped one of the nearby stones and the dwarf stumbled into the approaching Gunthar.  The flat of the Neergaardian’s longsword slapped him in the face and he fell back stunned.  (2)

Gunthar jerked back so hard trying to avoid killing Kazrack, that he fell backward onto his ass. (3)

“Stumpy!”

“Martin!” Ratchis roared again.

“Huh? Wha…?” Martin shook his head, and saw he was holding the Book of Black Circles in his hands. “Oh no!”

He quickly put the book back in his pack.  The _spectral hand_ dissipated before it touched anyone, and the mantle of green and black flame faded, but the zombies kept grabbing at their former kin.

“Where’d the zombies come from?” Martin asked as he re-loaded his crossbow, not meeting anyone’s eye.

Gunthar pushed himself up to his knees, and was about to shove himself to his feet, when one of the broad-bladed orc swords came down on the side of his head.  He dropped both his swords and fell back down clutching the side of his face as hot blood streamed out between his fingers.  

“My ear!” Gunthar cried.  “Where the f*ck is my ear!”

Bones, who had managed to sneak all the way around the orcs in the dark, let loose an arrow that dropped the orc that was now chopping at the crawling Gunthar.  

Ratchis strained his one eye to see where Kazrack was in the muck and left his defenses open, suffering deep chop to the hip from the orc leaders war-axe.   The Friar of Nephthys stumbled, but blocked the follow-up blow and slammed the orc’s helmet off as re-payment.  The orc’s face was swelling with bruises, and he had several cuts on his arm.

“Ow!” Dorn accidentally hit the trigger on his crossbow before raising it to fire and shot himself in the foot. (4)

 Again, Ratchis was distracted, and he had to struggle to keep another orc from flanking him, allowing the leader another solid hit.

Ratchis roared again, and ignored he new orc, chopping at the orc leader with great ferocity.  He cut through its forearm and into its face and then chopped it twice more as it fell.

The approaching orc hesitated as Ratchis turned back to him face him, but fell from one of Bones’ arrows to the neck before he could decide to fight or fly.

Two of the zombies was no longer animate, one had just bee chopped down by an orc that looked up to see the rest of his companions had been killed by either the party or the orcs.  He turned to flee, but another of the zombie orcs smashed him in the face with both fists, knocking him into one of the tall stones.  It slid down it length leaving a smear of blood and did not get back up.

The other zombie turned and surprised Ratchis by slamming him in the gut just as hard.  The half-orc coughed blood and fell over, unconscious.

“Ratchis!” Martin cried and dropping his crossbow drew a dagger and charged at the zombie.   The orc zombie put up its hand and the dagger pierced the palm to no apparent effect.  The undead thing swung at Martin, who hopped back.   Dorn hobbled over and chopped one of its arms off, and as it wobbled off balance he cut open its neck and send it crashing into the muck.

Kazrack got up and smashed the last zombie, and then stopped to wring the sewage out of his beard.

Martin and Flora moved to tend to Ratchis’ wounds.

“Where’s my f*ckin’ ear?” Gunthar said again, splashing back towards the other, still looking down with the glowing short sword.

“Huh?” Kazrack cupped his ear towards the warrior mockingly.

Gunthar stood straight up with a snarl none had seen on his face even during his most desperate fight “I said, ‘Where’s my f*ckin’ ear!’” He punched Kazrack full on in the face. 

The dwarf stumbled back, but was immediately in a fighting pose. “Nuh ish nut uh tahm,” he said.

“Ah, forget it! Who can understand what Stumpy says anyway?  I should be happy I can’t hear him anyway,” he said, dismissing the dwarf. He winced as he picked at the torn place where his ear had been. “It’s just that now I have a bad side.”

“This is a bad place to stay,” Martin said.  “We have to move Ratchis somehow.”

Kazrack nodded and knelt beside his friend.  He proceeded to attempt to cast healing spell afer healing spell, but every single one failed. (5)

“Leave it to me,” Flora said, and sat in the muck with Ratchis’ head in her lap and began to softly sing to him.  A few moments later, he stirred, coughing and then wincing in pain.

“Who died?” he croaked.

“You almost did,” Flora replied. “Now please do me a favor and lead us out of here.”

Ratchis slowly got to his feet, and turned to Martin. “Why did you raise those orcs?”

“I am losing my battle with the Book,” Martin sighed.

“Does that ever happen when you are not casting a spell?” 

“Only the time that Beorth said he awoke with my standing over him.”

“From now on don’t cast any spells, unless it is absolutely necessary,” Ratchis decided.

Martin paused, and the nodded.

“Yeah!” Gunthar walked over, he was combing his hair down over his missing ear.  “I don’t hold with the making of the undead. That’s just not right.” 

Ratchis began to dole out healing, while the others prepared their things for leaving the room.

Gunthar was last.

“And lastly, great Nephthys, fill this wayward soul with your healing light,” Ratchis intoned.

“Yeah, fill me up like I fill up the lovely ladies,” Gunthar smirked.

Ratchis snarled at him.

“You will not mock the power of my goddess,” Ratchis barked.

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do, deprive me of my freedom?  I think she’d like that even less than some bawdy jokes at her expense, not that statues of her are hard on the eyes, but I’m sure a big boy like you know exactly what I’m taking about, right?  Rowr.”

“If you continue to speak of my goddess, or any of the gods in this fashion I will withhold the healing and benefits of Nephthys from you,” Ratchis threatened.

“End Uh ‘ill uz well,” Kazrack spoke as slowly as he could. “Fur Uh dun tink you respect muh Lords n’ Leddy, eeder.”

Gunthar laughed.

“You do as your conscience dictates, holy boys,” Gunthar smiled.  “I’m sure you’ll do the right thing, unless you are only pay lip service to the service of Good, only licking its boot like a good dog during the day, so you can widdle out your territory at night. Bah!”

Kazrack’s hands tightened into fists.

“Let’s move on,” Ratchis said.  “It is only Bes that has kept more orcs from arriving.”

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

They marched for another three hours.  Twice more they heard drums, but no more orcs came.  Eventually, on the brink of exhaustion (and Ratchis already there), they climbed into a narrow shelf-like crack high up on one wall of the wedge-shaped tunnel they now traveled through.

Martin used a _prestidigitation_ spell to clean everyone off.

As the others made camp, Kazrack brought Martin aside and spoke very slowly.

“Uh wunt you tuh know Uh dun hold any uf this book stuff aginst you,” the dwarf managed. “Uh believe you cun overcome this.”

“Thank you, Kazrack,” Martin replied.  The dwarf clamped a big hand on the mage’s shoulder and squeezed.

“Uh ‘ill udd you tuh my pears,” Kazrack said.

Ratchis walked over.

“Do you think Beorth is dead?” Martin asked them.

“That filth and water has to go somewhere,” Ratchis said. “Didn’t the map say something about an underground river?”

Martin pulled out the map and looked, and then nodded.  “So we are going to go look for him?”

“No,” Ratchis replied. “We have no way of tracking him.  We have to just have faith that he was washed far from any orcs and will find his way to the surface and Nikar, eventually.


Balem, the 5th of Ter – 565 H.E.

Three days later found them still deep underground.  The cold black stone had given way to warmer softer rock, and they passed several passages that had caved in with thick black mud.  After long hours of marching, Ratchis would find them the most out of the way spot he could find, and they hid and slept.  Once they heard orcs pass by very close, but they were not discovered.

The path Ratchis led them along did seem to slowly rise over time.  Kazrack would breathe in deeply and announce how deep they all were a few times a day and the average kept going down by about sixty feet per day.

There was a lot less sign of these tunnels ever having been worked. In fact, something about them nagged at him because it did not seem like it was made by flowing water. 

Up ahead, the tunnel turned severely to the left.

“Thut’s et!” Kazrack exclaimed. “Diz tunnas dug buh bih insuhs!”

“What?” Ratchis asked.

“Bih Insuhs! Insucks! Insucks!”

“I think he is saying ‘big insects’,” Martin said.

“More spiders?” Bones asked.

“Actually spiders are not categorized as insects at all,” Martin replied.

Everyone began to make for the end of the tunnel.  As they approached the top of the turn, they could see that the tunnel dropped as nearly as quickly as it turned, making a corkscrew path.  Down and down they went, as the tunnel narrowed to a mere twenty feet wide compared to the tunnel above that had led to it.

In the distance they heard a repeated rhythmic bursts of clickity-clack!  Clickety-Clack!

 ------------------------------------------------------------------
*Notes*

(1) Translation: “No! No! No! Noooooooo!”

(2) *DM’s Note:* Kazrack fumbled. He was required to make a Reflex save (DC 15) or fall and be stunned for 1d4 rounds.

(3) *DM’s Note:* Gunthar fumbled.  He failed a simple Reflex save (DC 12) or fall.

(4) *DM’s Note:* Dorn fumbled and got the “Hit Self – Full damage” result. 

(5) *DM’s Note:* Kazrack has an 85% chance of spell failure with spells with verbal components because of his shattered jaw.


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## Manzanita

Wow.  Beorth bit it, eh?  Or did he?  His PC was separated from the pack once before, when they first met the Quaggoths.  I'd be curious how his player handled these.  Did the player need to be absent for a while?

I did enjoy this one.  The battle was very cool, and martin's evolution w/the book is quite spooky.  I hope he pulls through.


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## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Wow.  Beorth bit it, eh?  Or did he?  His PC was separated from the pack once before, when they first met the Quaggoths.  I'd be curious how his player handled these.  Did the player need to be absent for a while?




Nope.

Beorth is gone for good. 

Brian, who played him, moved to Italy.  He did not have any idea how I was going to separate him from the group because he wanted to play right up to the end.  Lucky for me, my timing and my idea on how to get rid of him, worked out perfectly.


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## RedShirtNo5

Wow. I still remember reading your introduction to Out of the Frying Pan and thinking it was a cool set-up. Now Kazrack is the only original PC left. And he can barely even talk about it.

Excellent set of updates. Great characterization and tension, and the end of session 65 had that LotR:FotR feel. "Drums, drums in the deep! ...." 

I'm not sure what would happen if 3 of my players had to leave in such a short period of time. But then, I've had the same gang for 10 years. Have your games had this much turn-over before?

-RedShirt


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## el-remmen

RedShirtNo5 said:
			
		

> I'm not sure what would happen if 3 of my players had to leave in such a short period of time. But then, I've had the same gang for 10 years. Have your games had this much turn-over before?
> 
> -RedShirt





Sure, my greatest disappointment with this campaign was the loss of Ken, Helene and Brian (Jeremy, Anarie, and Beorth, respectively).  Their having to leave it really the only thing that keeps this campaign from being as close to perfect as one could hope for.

The campaign struggled to find its legs for a little while after this, and the story hour may show that as things got a little disjointed and the notes weren't kept up and there was a lot of downtime once they get to Nikar, and we struggled to incorporate a couple of new characters (but I guess you will see all of that in time).

As for past campaigns, they all had _some_ turnover, but the turnover was not as big a deal because of the more open format of those campaigns (i.e it was not relegated to a relatively small area of one part of the world and such a short amount of time. . .remember, it has not even been a year since Kazrack left Verdun).


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## Manzanita

That's so sad that Beorth died.  I guess he could have survived, but he's not likely to be stealthy or knowledgable enough to sneak out of the orc caverns.  Oh.  well.  I"m looking forward to meeting the new PCs.


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## mofos21

Wow.  A great (if not disgusting) use of an environment.  I think my favorite part was where Martin animated the dead orcs and then commanded them to "kill them all".   

Out of curiosity, do you take over Martin when things turn evil or do you give Martin's player a note on what to do?  Or better yet, does Martin's player roleplay it all himself and determine when to use the evil book (although unbeknownst to Martin)?

Oh, and I, too, am interested to see how the new PCs are incorporated in this campaign.  Can't wait to read the next installment!


----------



## el-remmen

mofos21 said:
			
		

> Out of curiosity, do you take over Martin when things turn evil or do you give Martin's player a note on what to do?  Or better yet, does Martin's player roleplay it all himself and determine when to use the evil book (although unbeknownst to Martin)?




I usually ask him what he wants to do and then tell him what he _actually_ does.


----------



## mmu1

mofos21 said:
			
		

> Oh, and I, too, am interested to see how the new PCs are incorporated in this campaign.  Can't wait to read the next installment!




Very, very slowly. 

Hey... Speaking of characters, how's Logan doing? Still around? Still alive?


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## el-remmen

mmu1 said:
			
		

> Hey... Speaking of characters, how's Logan doing? Still around? Still alive?




He is not still around, but I can't say what happened without spoilering it all up. . .


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #66 (part ii)*

Round and down they went. Ratchis and Kazrack took the lead while Gunthar took the rear.  They risked torches being fairly certain they had left orcs far behind.  The clickity-clack sound started and stopped several times, but every time it started again it seemed louder and closer, though once the sound seem to be answered by one further away.  It echoed up from below bouncing on the curves walls of the tunnel spiral.

They had gone around about seven or eight times, when the tunnel widened about thirty feet ahead, opening in a cavernous chamber beyond that was devoured by darkness.  

Around the corner came a hulking humanoid figure.  Kazrack and Ratchis could see it immediately.  It was nearly nine feet tall, and had a chitinous insect-like exo-skeleton that vibrated making the clacking noise they had heard before.  It had a spindly neck protected by raised areas of the plates that covered it chest and shoulders, atop of which was a drawn and harrowed bird-like head with a cruel-looking curved bony beak.  It had no wings, and its two muscled arms ended in bony hooks .

It came slowly towards then, clicking and clacking.

“Whu isha ‘ul uish ‘at!?” Kazrack exclaimed.  It came into the light and Gunthar drew his swords, and moved up to support the dwarf and the half-orc.  They could now all see the yellowed curved hooks and the pale translucent quality of the armor plates. 

Ratchis did not hesitate.  Sword in hand he ran right at the thing, ducking one of its horrific hooks, and cracking the shell over its chest. The tone of its click and clacking become lower and was muted, as pink and yellow ichor dribbled from the crack.

It swayed off balance and reached down awkwardly to hook Ratchis, but the half-orc duck and the hooked horror toppled over, ichor pooling beneath it. (1) 

Unfortunately, Ratchis backed off right into another of the monsters that appeared from the right.  He took a glancing blow to the head, but Kazrack was there to distract the thing, smashing it with his flail.  It clicked and clacked angrily, as Ratchis was able to spin into a defensive fighting stance and deliver a blow to one of its muscular legs with his sword.  The creatures seemed less armored there.

Martin and Dorn began to load their crossbows, while Gunthar and Bones moved to support the dwarf and half-orc, but it was for naught, as a second resounding blow from Kazrack and the second hooked horror fell.  It twitched for half a moment.

“Wow!  These friggin’ bug things look worse than the actually are,” Gunthar said, too loudly, kicking at head of one of the dying monsters.

“Hush!” Ratchis chastised.  The echo of more clicking and clacking called to them from the darkness of the great chamber.

Ratchis gestured for the others to wait, while he snuck out into the great dark cavern.  He could see that it went off behind were the corkscrew tunnel let out way beyond what he could see.  From this vantage point, he could see that the curling tunnel was within a huge tapering of earth and stone that touched the ceiling forty-five feet above the cavern floor.  Obviously, the mound was in the top left corner of a cavern that he could only compare in size to that on the lowest level of the Necropolis of Doom. (2)  Though, unlike that cavern, this one’s ceiling was supported by scattered columns and fused stalactites and stalagmites.  He could see the walls of the cavern before him and to the right.   While they looked like treacherous climbs, he could tell there were many jagged nooks and outcroppings that would make for good hiding spots.  

The wall directly across the opening from the mound had opening about fifteen feet off the cavern floor, accessible by a crude stone ramp.  It was a little more than ten feet wide and close to fifteen feet high.

Ratchis hurried back and explained what he had seen.   “We should go up the ramp.  I don’t want to spend to much time in that big cavern, too easy that we’d be ambushed by something and as far as we know we can be very far from another exit.”

The others agreed, though some grudgingly, but before continuing Ratchis beseeched Nephthys for _Bull’s Strength_ for himself and for Kazrack.

They made their way across the cavern, marching close two by two and keeping alert as the clicking and clacking echoed around them.  The light of Gunthar’s lantern threw crazy shadows all around them, especially against the towering columns.

Just as Ratchis and Kazrack, who were both in front reached the bottom of the ramp, they could see another hulking hooked horror appear at the opening at the top.  There was at least two more behind it, trying to push their way down.

The monster in front ran down and swung its long arms at Kazrack, but the dwarf knocked the bony hook away and retaliated with two mighty blows of his own.  Cracks cascaded up the thing’s exo-skeletal plates.

The thing lurched away from Kazrack and swung both claws at the bigger target, while pecking with its treacherous beak.  Ratchis easily avoided all the blows, but landed a few of his own.  Kazrack slammed it again and it fell. 

However, one of the other hooked horrors had leapt down about halfway down the ramp and had made its way around and clawing at Flora, who took slight blow to the head.  Ratchis leapt over to here and with two mighty blows the hooked thing drop to the cavern floor dead.

“Huh?” In the rear guard, Gunthar spun around and raised his lantern in time to see two more of the monsters charging out of the darkness from their right.  “There’s more bugs back here!  I friggin’ hate bugs!”

He put down the lantern and drew his short sword to accompany his other blade.

Flora, Dorn, Bones and Martin all got their missile weapons ready, as two more hooked horrors appeared at the opening and hurried down, as Kazrack and Ratchis positioned themselves to block their path.  Again one came barreling down at Kazrack, as bolts and arrows bounced off it, a few finding tender spots between plates.  The dwarf ducked and spun around out the way to his left, but did not see that the second horror had used the other as a screen and had come down unseen.  Kazrack grunted as his armor did little to dull the blow.   Kazrack swung his flail furiously, sending bony chips flying.  Ratchis took up the spot Kazrack had been in and went head to head with the first hooked horror, grunting with each satisfying crunching blow of his long sword into the thing.

Gunthar did his best from keeping the two hooked horrors that approached from the rear, but one distracted him with a fierce blow to the chest, while the other batted the curved end of its hook across Martin’s chin.  

“Isis help me!” the watch-mage cried and withdrew, fumbling to reload his crossbow.

Flora turned and fired an arrow into a weak point near its groin, to keep it from persuing.

Gunthar put himself between the two hulking monstrosities and  flicked his swords in both directions trying to draw them off from the others.

”By Horus’ huge swollen hawk-headed c*ck! U could use some help over here!” he said, as the two hooked horrors spun and flanked him.  His arms stung as he parried the blows and he felt himself go numb for a second and he collapsed to the ground.

Ratchis also felt the weight of a blow that drove him down onto his rear, but he sprung back up and cracked the thing’s chest shell and it fell backward, and tumbled off the ramp.

The hooked horror that had attacked Martin now saw Dorn open and swung wildly at the brown-haired warrior.  He withdrew and fired at it point blank, but the bolt shattered harmlessly against its chest.  Flora and Martin’s missiles reacted similarly.

“Fuhwuh meh!” Kazrack cried, crushing the skull of the falling hooked horror before him and charging up the ramp.  “Wuh uh fuh muh comin’ ish aeh!”

Ratchis sighed, and turned away from the ramp charging at the one lumbering towards Dorn and the others.  It swung out, catching him across the table, cleaving into its hip.  It let out a long trill of clicks.

Gunthar scrambled to his feet and spun as the hooked horror hovered over him, about to come down with all three of its attacks.  Instead, it stumbled and its right foot rolled.  Gunthar hopped back, and the hooked horror hobbled after him, leaving itself open to a cruel blow from his long sword across the face.

  It reared and came down on him again, and against he slashed across its face with the long sword and this time followed it with a jab from his short sword.  It fell over.

Gunthar slipped away his short sword an scooped up the lantern.

Ratchis suffered cuts to his face from the hooked horror’s blows, but managed to slam it backward into the on-coming Kazrack, who had charged back down the ramp when he saw that no one had followed him.  It slammed him as it fell to his blows.
More were now coming down the ramp, even as more emerged from the darkness beyond the mound behind them.

Gunthar walked over to Bones and put the lantern down by him.

”Carry this, snotling!” Gunthar said and kicked the halfling in the rear, knocking him down.  Bones spun and around and tried to punch Gunthar in the groin, but he had already moved on to meet the approached hooked horrors.

Two came rushing at him, clicking madly as bolts flew from both Dorn and Martin.   Ratchis stepped up to form a line, but one of the hooked horrors went around clawing at Bones.  The halfing let an arrow loose straight into its head, but it did not slow.  The other clawed at Ratchis, but met the flat of his blade instead, and was driven back by a thrust into a space between plates that spurted the pinkish ichor.  Kazrack slammed it as well.

One of the hooked horrors coming down the ram leapt a Bones, who barely got off the way and then scurried away from the melee.  The first hooked horror seemed obsessed with the halfling and clawed after him, sending the halfling flying to the cold cavern floor.

Dorn shot it with his crossbow.

Kazrack turned to the monsters that had come down the ramp while Gunthar and Ratchis beat the one between then down, cracking its plates and smashing one of its legs clear in half.  The dwarf spun with all his might and knocked one on its side, bashing a huge ichor-oozing scrap in its thigh, and crushed its skull with a follow up blow.

Martin picked up the lantern and moved clear of the fight, closing ranks with Dorn.  Bones scrambled to his feet and ran behind Dorn as the warrior provided cover. The hooked horror came running at Dorn as if still determined to get at the halfling behind him.  Dorn cried out as the heavy hook clubbed him on the side of the head, knocking him from his feet.

Gunthar spun around and charged at the last hook horror to come down the ramp.  He ducked the wide swinging hook and slammed the pommel of his sword between the thing’s legs and then thrusting upward to strike it under the beak.  He fought in close to avoid the hooks.

He shoved his short sword into the gaping wound and thrust with all his might, moving it around, as Ratchis grunted with satisfaction as he cut down the hooked horror attacking Dorn.

The last hook horror fell.

“Do you think perhaps that more and more of these things keep coming from that opening might mean we shouldn’t go that way?’ Martin inquired, sarcastically.

“Duh yah think dish lids tuh air lur?” Kazrack asked eagerly.

“Whatever.  Who cares?  Let’s go kill all of them,” Gunthar nodded.

“Fer once Uh agruh,” Kazrack replied.  He combed the drool from his beard with his fingers.

*End of Session #66*



------------------------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	*DM’s Note:* Ratchis scored a critical hit on his charge, dropping the hook horror to zero hit point with one shot.  By attacking while disabled, the monster dropped to negative hit points.

(2) See Session #45


----------



## Felikeries

Sounds like you're playesr take their levels at satisfaction,i never see
any deliges about 'if i get stronger with this next kill' or 'another battle
and a commune shall bring a new spell...let's go'

....or you left that 'player' crap rapping from the story for a better effect


----------



## Manzanita

I noticed in your other thread that you said you were wrapping up this campaign.  Does that meanin real time, the FMK saga is coming to a close?  Do you have another DMing project in the works?  I sure look forward to reading how this all works out, but I'd miss it if it were over...


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> I noticed in your other thread that you said you were wrapping up this campaign.  Does that meanin real time, the FMK saga is coming to a close?  Do you have another DMing project in the works?  I sure look forward to reading how this all works out, but I'd miss it if it were over...




In real time, we are about 6 to 10 sessions from the end of the campaign (i.e. 3 to 5 months), but I am over a year behind in the story hour, so the story hour will be going along for some time more.

I will either be running a Mutants & Masterminds game when OOTFP is over, or another Aquerra campaign.  I have not decided.


----------



## Ciaran

nemmerle said:
			
		

> In real time, we are about 6 to 10 sessions from the end of the campaign (i.e. 3 to 5 months)



Are you serious?  It may take us 6 to 10 sessions just to get to, you know, _that place._  Are you expecting things to go really quickly there, or are you just anticipating our short life expectancy?


----------



## Manzanita

nemmerle said:
			
		

> I will either be running a Mutants & Masterminds game when OOTFP is over, or another Aquerra campaign.  I have not decided.




...makes me wish I lived in NYcity...almost.


----------



## el-remmen

Well, even though we won't get to it for a long long time in the story hour, today the party had their climactic battle with Mozek, in a 40 round titantic brawl of epic proportion in its suffering and confusion.   I won't tell you how it turned out, but let me say this, is was pretty friggin' great.


----------



## el-remmen

When I am done the next installment you will have not only all of session #67 in one fell swoop, but it will also mark the end of this "book" - _*The Fearless Manticore Killers and the Necropolis of Doom*_  (which also included the journey into the Pit of Bones) and the next installment will be the beginning of 

_*Out of the Frying Pan - Book IV: Into the Fire*_​

I had wanted to start it later, at a point that worked visually with fire, but the more I think about it the more it makes sense to make the break now so new characters come right in from the beginning of this section instead of being introduced and then jumping to the next session.

Anyway, this last installment should be done this weekend some time.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Looking forward to it.

GW


----------



## Manzanita

I'm looking forward to the next installment as well.  And especially the climactic battle against Mozek.  The FMK have really come a long way since they sat helplessly as Mozek ripped poor Chance's head off.  What level are they at the climax, or would that be asking too much?  They're about 8th now in the story aren't they?


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #67*

“Should weh tuck a momen tuh cull upun tuh blesshings uh ur guds?” Kazrack asked.

“Yeah, heal me up, Stumpy!” Gunthar poked the dwarf in the side of the head with an elbow.

Kazrack’s frown became a grimace of pain, which shocked his face into more convulsions, until he could only hold the fractured remains of his lower face and shudder.  He tried to cast two curative spells, but both failed.

“Let’s just go have a look,” Ratchis said.  “We won’t go too far into the opening.”

He and Kazrack led the way, with Gunthar close behind.  Dorn and Bones took up the rear, as Martin and Flora followed the warriors hesitantly.

Not more than twenty feet into this tunnel it widened and forked, turning sharply to the left and sinking one way and turned and climbing more gradually to the right.  

Another of the hooked horrors came charging up from the left, clicking and clacking frantically as it swung its hooks over its head.  Gunthar leapt forward and sliced its leg open, and Ratchis swung around and struck it in the same place.  He chopped its head open as it fell to the ground.

“Muh!” Kazrack warned.  They all looked up and saw four more of the monsters coming.  Two from each side.

Ratchis stepped up and braced himself to block the two on the left, while the two on the right came charging at Kazrack.  The dwarf deftly ducked the attacks, though one did scrape his helmet.  

The half-orc traded blows with one of the bird-insect monsters, but his heavy blows brought it down.  Meanwhile Gunthar struggled with the other one on the left side, but Ratchis was able to help flank the creature and soon it was pouring out ichor and shuddering on the cave floor.

Twang!  Flora fired arrows to keep the remaining two from overrunning Kazrack, who grunted with every blow he dealt and received.  The dwarf was beginning to look badly beaten and bloody in many places.  One blow from a hooked horror knocked him off his feet.  Again, and again it slammed him on the ground with its hooks ignoring the flurry of arrows and bolts from Martin, Flora, Bones and Dorn.

Ratchis and Gunthar struggled with one of the remaining ones, as it moved to block access to its companion that threatened to hook Kazrack like a squirming worm used to fish.   Gunthar was able to get in a blow as the monster shifted over, but it did not fall.

“Kazrack? Do you have it?” Ratchis called to his friend, his view obscured by the hulking horrors.

“Uh um shorly oondid!” Kazrack drooled as he rolled to his feet and slammed the monster with his fading strength.  The central carapace cracked, sending pinkish ichor to splatter across the tunnel.  The hooked horror fell.  

The dwarf stepped up to flank the other, but it spun around to hit him.  However, its hooks slammed the tunnel ceil and it lost balance slamming its head against the wall as it fell , stunned. (1)

In a moment, Kazrack, Ratchis and Gunthar had destroyed it.

“We need to pulls back out of this area and back up that corkscrew passage in order to hide and rest,” Ratchis said.

Martin mumbled under his breath that he had already suggested something like that.

The Fearless Manticore Killers and their companions climbed back up the rounding ramp, alert to the echoing of more clicking and clacking behind them.  Near the top they found a flat recess they could camp in and perhaps avoid anyone or anything that went by in the dark.

They risked a little light as they set up their gear and rolled out their bedrolls.  Martin took some time to use several _mending_ spells to make repairs in Kazrack and Gunthar’s armor. (2)

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Beorth is gone,” Gunthar said as they were all settling in.  Kazrack was mumbling angrily to himself as three of his cure spells failed due to his shattered jaw. “None of you have said a word about him since he hell down the sh*te-hole… And you call _me_ heartless.”

“Beorth is alive,” Ratchis replied.

“That would ease your conscience, wouldn’t it,” Gunthar said with a smirk.

“Shut up, Gunthar,” Ratchis growled.

“Oh, please feel free to dampen my own freedom, mister friar of Nephthys Snuffles, sir,” Gunthar mocked.

“Bayorsh ish lukly dud,” Kazrack said.  


Balem, the 12th of Ter – 565 H.E.

In what they hoped was morning, the priests prepared their spells, and Ratchis used a great deal of his goddess’ power to heal everyone’s wounds.  Soon after, they all found themselves making their way back down to the great chamber below by means of the spiraling tunnel.  This time at the egress that went to the right behind the great hollowed mound.

They were amazed to find that the corpses of all the monsters they had slain had been dragged away.

The area behind where the corkscrew tunnel let out was pock marked with conical dirt mounds that seemed to have small scoop taken out of the top.    All the mounds were spread put nearly evenly around a bizarre feature of the cavern; a translucent green and sickly yellow conical column of some kind of hardened material.  It was as tall as the cavern and seemed to have been spit out over time from a hole above.  It was twenty feet at the base and rose up steeply to a narrow point at the top.

“What is that?” Dorn whispered with awe.  Gunthar’s lantern reflected against the shiny green thing and sparkled up and down it.

“The insect birds must have made it,” Martin said.  “Perhaps to preserve eggs or valuables.”

“I hope valuables,” Bones said.  “Because these things don’t have pockets, so their ain’t much profit in killing them.”

The party was startled as a loud clacking came around the column of hardened slime.  Two of the plated monsters came around form the right side of it, clacking and beating their hooks against their chests in challenge.  They took up spots on either side of the column and did not approach.

“Why aren’t they attacking?” Martin the Green asked Ratchis.

“I think they’re defending their eggs and calling to others,” Ratchis surmised.  He rushed towards them and Kazrack followed.  Dorn hesitated and then followed as well.

Gunthar stayed back with the others who were more cautious, and looking around to see if more were coming.  

Bones let loose and arrow that bounced against the head of the first one that moved forward to meet Kazrack.  

Dorn grunted as he took a blow to the shoulder as he and Ratchis moved to flank the other hooked horror.

Sighing, Gunthar advanced to aid Kazrack.  The dwarf was doing a good job avoiding blows, but he could not seem to land a solid one until the Neergaardian arrived to provide distraction.  Ratchis and Dorn managed to defeat the one they took on with help from arrows from Flora and Martin.

The half-orc then hurried over and cut the leg from the other and Gunthar removed its head while it struggled on the ground. 

The echo of their battle died out as it rung across the great chasm and returned as a vague hum bouncing against the columns and spires of stone.

They all approached the slime column and could see spot of luminescence deep inside of it and way up above.   Ratchis, Bones and Martin examined it.  They could see the shape of humanoids trapped inside of it frozen in space.  One was a human hanging upside down and missing a leg.  The other, only about seven feet up was a dwarf with his back to the party.  He had a torn pack and seem to have been climbing a rope when the slime slid over him suddenly.

Ratchis used the masterwork hammer he had taken off of one of Mozek’s brothers to smash through the hardened slime and was able to retrieve two of the bodies; the dwarf and a human.  The two bodies appeared to be that of adventurers, clearly dead by remarkably preserved.  The dwarf’s pack was full of gems, jewelry, coins and some clay jugs wrapped in some kind of prayer rug.  Martin cast _detect magic_ and discovered the rug and the just gave off a dweomer.  

Kazrack was given the pack to carry after the two bodies were buried under stone cairns and words were spoken.

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

A couple of hours later the party had moved on to the far end of the huge cavern and picked their way up the wall towards a group of tunnels they spotted that they hoped would lead them out.  The map Shadarach had given them was of very limited use from this point on, and many times Kazrack and Ratchis conferred about the most likely routes to the surface, with Martin chiming in occasionally with his plethora of maps.

These narrow tunnels climbed up and up.  In many places they crawled up on their hands and knees through slick black mud and silt, nearly digging their way upward through the earth.  Mud-covered, they finally pulled themselves into and intersecting cavern with slick cold rounded walls.  After another quick look around by Ratchis and a consultation with Kazrack  (3), they took off in one direction following carved steps in lime that reached another series of narrow tunnels.  The air was fresher here, and Ratchis smiled as he led the way.

In places, this sloping tunnel had crude worked stairs that Kazrack cursed as “goblin work”.  They were now far from the dwarven mines and chambers they had entered with Shadarach.  In time they came to a room that connected with three other passages, but more importantly, there was a tiny shaft on the left had side through which came a shaft of moonlight.

“Isis smiles upon us,” Martin said. (4)

Ratchis examined the shaft and could see that was scores of feet to where the moonlight breached the rock. The shaft was no wider than four inches.

“The moon must be full,” he said.

“Look!” Bones called attention to the corpses of three squat orcs in torn hide armor.  They had no weapons and looked as if those curved blades the black orcs had been using before had killed them. (5)

Ratchis held up a hand and looked around using Gunthar’s lantern.

“These orcs were dragged here from somewhere else,” Ratchis surmised.  “Maybe they were killed near the surface and others dragged them here.”

“These look different in dress than the ones we face before, and they are more squat,” Martin observed.

“We should press on,” Ratchis said, and Kazrack nodded.

The half-orc walked over to each of the exits in turn, and then called over Kazrack and Martin to consult with them.  The faint sound of drums came from the right hand passage.  The passage climbed very steeply and turned off to the right very sharply.  The middle passage smelled freshest and had a gentle grade upward, while the left hand passage plummeted awkwardly.  There was a damp smell to the air that came up from down there.

“The middle it is,” Ratchis said, and led the way.

Fatigue began to crawl into their muscles by the time they were able to see moonlight again.  The tunnels had led to a network of passages that honeycombed the side of a gorge overlooking a river far below.

Bones was sent out to sneak ahead and check it out, he returned with the all’s clear.   There was enough solid rock directly below to allow them all to climb down and then find a way across the river further up or down stream.  However, it was only thirty feet to the cliff above while a more treacherous eighty feet to the bottom of the gorge.

Ropes were hastily set up and Kazrack began to make his way down slowly on one rope, as Gunthar and Bones slid down the other.

The Neergaardian was the furthest down the cliff-side, about halfway, when he was startled by an arrow clattering against the stone beside him.

“What!  Friggin’ pigs! Pigs!” he cried and point and swung wildly.  Bones cursed, holding on desperately to the jerking rope as Gunthar slid all the way down to the bottom.

Kazrack turned his head and saw two squat orcs with short bows hunches in a tiny shielded outcropping that was reached by some other tunnel in the cliff-side.

Still inside Martin and the other began to hear drums.

Bones slide down the rope and in a moment his bow was in his hand.  He stopped to shoot at the well-covered orcs as he ran out to the edge of the tall grass that lined the river here, hoping to get a better angle and some cover of his own.

Kazrack was still clumsily making his way down, lowered by Ratchis, and he felt the bite of orc arrows, slowed, but still punching through his armor.

Gunthar, meanwhile, began to climb back up the cliff-side to get at the orcs.

Dorn and Martin loaded their crossbow and stepped out to the ledge, looking down at the orcs as they popped out to take shots.  They both let loose, but Dorn’s caught a lip of stone.  Martin’s bolt went clean through the back of the orc’s neck as it peered over the stone at Gunthar and over it went!  The orc corpse slammed into Gunthar with incredible force, and yet he still managed to hold on, feeling bruises begin to swell up on his face and shoulder.

“Agh!” Ratchis cried out.  He had leaned forward to get Kazrack past some rocks and a heavy stone had slammed into the back of his head.  He looked up, and in the bright moonlight could see humanoid silhouettes moving back and forth at the top of the cliff.  “They are also above us!” he warned.   

Gunthar felt a stone slam into him as well, but he remained resolute and slowly made his way back up towards the orc archers.

Kazrack was finally down, and he drew his crossbow as well and began to fire at the orcs.

Bones sent arrows clattering up into the shadows, but he could not tell if he hit anything.

Flora began to sing a loud song in elvish and three small balls of light appeared before her and hurried down to harass the archers.

Ratchis pulled up the rope, as Dorn began his descent on the other.

Gunthar by this time had gotten to the orc hole, and barely missed having his head cleaved open by a battle-axe.  He leapt into the hole, drawing his sword, and disappeared into the darkness with a cry of joy.

More rocks fell from above, forcing Martin to retreat a bit and sending his bolts off target.  Flora had her lights fly up to the top of the cliff, but then ducked away as more rocks came down.

Dorn joined Bones and Kazrack at the bottom of the cliff and lent his crossbow to the difficult task of picking off the well-covered orcs.

Ratchis coiled the rope at his feet and then pulled out his great bow and took aim where he had seen one of the orcs above.  The next time it looked over to drop a rock, it fell back with an arrow through its eye.  The stone scraped past the half-orc’s head.

Below Kazrack did his best to yell suggestions to Ratchis between shots, but over the distance and with his excitement, it sounded like the desperate groans of a mute. 

Gunthar emerged from the orc hole covered in gore and holding a black bow and a leather quiver of arrows.  He began to make his way back down the cliff.

With a lucky shot, Bones took out one of the orcs way above and it tumbled down the cliff, its body emitting two satisfying crunching sounds.

Martin and Flora took this opportunity to begin to climb down, as the others waited with bows drawn for more orc forms to appear at the top of the cliff; except for Kazrack he continued to mumble encouragement.

Soon the whole party was down and crossing the river where it was wide and very shallow.  They climbed up a much lower and gradual rock face and headed towards a thick wood to the southwest.

At the treeline, they stopped to drink water and patch up their wounds.  Flora sung for Ratchis, closing a bit of the Friar’s wounds.

“I think we should go through the dwarf’s bag now and split the booty,” Bones suggested.

“Ut cun wait,” Kazrack said.

“What if we get separated, or you fall over a cliff into a river or something?” Bones said. “It makes sense to do it now.”

“Snotling’s got a point,” Gunthar, smiling.  “I deserve my cut now for all the fighting I had to do to cover for you guys.”   He gestured to Kazrack and Ratchis.

Kazrack looked to Ratchis, and the half-orc nodded.

A few minutes later the coins were divided and several different people were holding pieces of jewelry.  Gunthar was not one of them, but he was promised a cut when they were sold.

“I can’t wait until we get to an inn,” he said.  “I’m gonna get me a whore.  Hell, with all this booty I can get a helluva lot of booty.”

“You’re disgusting,” Flora said.

“Can’t ya just eat me up?” Gunthar winked.

“Whuh would juh buh mer buddy?” Kazrack asked.

Dorn, Bones, Gunthar and even Flora laughed.

At Ratchis’ insistence they marched through the darkness of night in order to put as much distance between themselves and the orc tunnels.

“We should march until as close to daybreak as possible,” he said.


Several hours later exhausted they collapsed into a wooded knoll that Ratchis found for them.  The dawn was an angry red blur that rose up from behind the mountains the party had emerged from.


Teflem, the 13th of Ter – 565 H.E.

Before them stretched seemingly endless miles of thickly wooded hills that climbed as they stretched south and westward until meeting the distant shadow of even taller mountains.

The weather was perfect. A cool breeze slipped around the hills and small fluffy clouds crawled away to the east.


Anulem, the 14th of Ter – 565 H.E.

By mid-day of the next day, they were moving at a brisk face though broken rocky plateaus covered in places by winding scrabbled gray vines, some of which had begun to sprout bright yellow and green flowers.

At many place they had to climb down tall plateaus, and cross deep cracks where subterranean streams split the rocks down below.  Every now and then they’d pass a small copses of trees, some had the tiniest buds of apples growing on them.

After crossing one long stretch of barren white stone riddled with veins of black and dull green, there was a narrow band of trees behind which they could see the outline of some buildings and a low wall.

“This is the cemetery,” Ratchis said.  “We are nearly there.  There is a monastery dedicated to Anubis here, so we have to be alert for monks.” (6)

He led them to the stained white stone wall of the cemetery.  The tall peaks of tombs and statues were visible over the twelve-foot wall.  

“There is no gate on this side,” Ratchis said.

“Whur _ish_ thish tun?” Kazrack asked.

The half-orc ranger led the party and their companions along the eastern wall of the cemetery.  The ground declined beneath them as the wall became gradually taller.

“Dish ish dwarven conshrukshun,” Kazrack commented.

The ground gave way very steeply before them, and the wall went beyond it, reinforced and buttressed to support some kind of stone platform above.  Ratchis pointed out narrow alley in the wall that led to stone steps up to the cemetery level.  They passed a rusted open gate.  The narrow hall turned left and then another set of steeper steps led to a courtyard before a squat black building.  The courtyard looked as if it had not been cleared for some time.  There were piles of dirt blown by the wind into the corners, and dead leaves and mud streaks.   The statue of Anubis, jackal-headed with his arms folded across his chest, holding a key in one hand and a hooked scepter in the other, was stained with pink and white bird-droppings.

“Like everywhere else in Aquerra… The monks are all gone,” Flora said.

“They’re on their way back,” Martin said.  “I wish Beorth were here.  He would do something about this neglect while here.”

Gunthar snorted, and Ratchis glared at him.

Beyond the courtyard to the right they saw scores of tombstones amide tall grass and a few trees.  To the left, there was a stone balcony of sorts connected to stone steps leading down the side of the cliff face this was built upon.  It led to the plateau below.

Ratchis led them this way.  Kazrack was awed by the construction.

Down the steps they went.  They were made of stone and carved into the side of the cliff turning in a neat rectangular pattern, with an open side, which gave view to rolling hills beyond to the south.  The steps led to a wide plateau fashioned into a road.  Large stones marked the far edge of the road showing where the edge of the plateau was and the sudden plummet beyond.  The road curved around and out of sight to the east, and to the east it led through a dark tunnel cleaving through the mountainside.

“Nikar is just beyond this tunnel,” Ratchis explained.  “Just a warning.  The guards here are serious about enforcing the law and they’ve had bad experiences with adventurers here so be careful what you do and don’t get caught doing it.” 

He glared at Gunthar, but let his vision pause on Bones an extra second as well.

As they approached the tunnel, they could see that it was built up on either side with windowless stone towers from which could emerge a heavy black metal gate, which could completely block the way.  Kazrack took a moment to look to see if he could get a glimpse at the mechanism used to do this, but Ratchis hurried him along.

“The gate is closed at sundown from the far end of the tunnel,” the half-orc said.  “We will have to hurry to make it in time.”

The tunnel was twenty-five feet high at the center, and curved down on either side in a perfect arc.  The ground was paved with rounded stones, and gutters had been carved on either end to allow water to drain.

It was nearly a quarter-mile to the other end of the tunnel, and there they saw the lights of several lanterns reflecting off another gate.  This one was closed, but a small doorway through was open and adjacent to a guardhouse and tower.  The top of the tunnel here was lined with murderholes through which came torchlight.

As they approached the gate, Flora used a _prestidigitation_ spell to clean everyone off, except Gunthar.

A dwarven form appeared at the entrance through the gate.  As they approached they saw a dwarf in chainmail holding a battle-axe.  He had a full red beard and a helmet that covered the top part of his face.  There was a horn at his side.  Behind him were two more dwarves with loaded heavy crossbows.

“Hail!  Who seeks to enter Nikar at this late hour?” the dwarf called out.

“Greshungs, muh brushers!  Weh uf travushed fur tuh git hur,” Kazrack raised a hand as he came forward to speak.

“Well met, brother! Come forward into the light.  I am having a hard time understanding you,” the dwarf said.

Kazrack approached and the shattered remains of his lower face made the dwarven guard grimace.

“Ugh! That is some grievous wound you have,” the dwarf said.  “Please speak your names and your business in town.”

“Uh em Kashrack Devver.  I hail from Lurgh-Schplendar-Turr,” Kazrack said.  “Theesh ur my companionsh. Uh em uh rune-thrower and sheek to pray and shtudy ut uh temple hur. One of my companionsh hess from thish tun.”

Ratchis came forward, and one of the dwarves with the crossbows murmured something to the other.  There was a look of recognition in the eyes of the guard at the gate.

“I am Ratchis of Nephthys, friend of Jetta and Narcil of Nephthys who reside in this town,” the half-orc ranger said.

“I know who they are,” the dwarf said brusquely.  “And I know who you are, you best be watching yourself while you are back here and rest assured that the captain will be told of your arrival.”

“Ish thur uh problem?” Kazrack asked, wiping drool from his chin.

“No disrespect to you honored rune-thrower,” the dwarf said, swallowing down his disdain to take on a tone of deference.  “But I am surprised that you would call one of the foul breed a companion, especially one that is a known rapist.”

“Couldn’t take no for an answer, huh Snuffles?” Gunthar laughed, coming forward.

“I was cleared of that charge,” Ratchis said.

“A technicality that gains you entrance,” the dwarf said. “But there better not be any vengeance getting while you are here, and as you are clearly an adventuring group I hope whatever business you have while off on your adventures is done with and does not come following you here.  We do not take kindly to your kind brawling and killing both in town and in its jurisdiction.”

“We understand,” said Martin, coming forward. “I am Martin the Green of the Academy of Wizardry.  Could you point me in the direction of the local watch-mage’s abode when we are done here?”

“There is no watch-mage here,” the dwarf said.  He began to take down the names.

“I am Gunthar Northrop of Neergaard, adventurer and hero,” Gunthar said. “And don’t let my companions be too humble they are the cold-blooded and Fearless Manticore Killers.”

“Uh-huh,” the dwarf said making a note and smirking.  “Come through one by one and step to the right so I can explain to you some of our local laws before you make your way to the inn or wherever, Fearless Manticore Killers.”

“Maybe we should change our name,” Martin whispered to Ratchis.

*End of Session #67*

----------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	*DM’s Note:* The hook horror fumbled.  It needed to make a Reflex check against DC 18 or fall and be stunned for 1d3 rounds.

(2) *DM’s Note:* A _mending_ spell will repair one point of damage to armor.  Armor has as many damage points as 10 times its base amount of protection.  Thus, a chain shirt has 40 damage points.  Each hit reduces armor damage points by 1, though some critical hits do more.

(3) Kazrack was using his inherent intuit depth ability.

(4) Isis is the goddess of the moon, magic and motherhood, and a patron of witches.

(5) Scimitars.

(6) See The Story of Ratchis to learn of his time in Nikar.


----------



## Manzanita

end of book two.  Nice update.  Looking forward to book III


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> end of book two.  Nice update.  Looking forward to book III




Naw, FMK & The Necropolis of Doom!! is goingto count as Book III - so "Into the Fire" will be Book IV.

Of course, over on the Rat Bastard Boards I am numbering them differently, just to be difficult.


----------



## handforged

I really enjoyed this update Nemm.  I don't know why specifically.  The environments were nice, the fighting was interesting.  Good character interaction.  Overall just very enjoyable.  A nice wrap-up for the third book.

~hf


----------



## Manzanita

Whats the ETA for the next installment?  I'm getting itchy for it.


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

Yeah, I'm looking forward to actually being able to understand Kazrack again.


----------



## mofos21

nemmerle said:
			
		

> “Maybe we should change our name,” Martin whispered to Ratchis.




Noooo!  You can't change your name.  You're the Fearless Manticore Killers!  What name could be better than that?  I bet they can't come up with one as half as good.




			
				Manzanita said:
			
		

> . . . I'm getting itchy for it.




Don't scratch.  It'll get infected.    




			
				Elder-Basilisk said:
			
		

> Yeah, I'm looking forward to actually being able to understand Kazrack again.




Again?  You mean you actually understood Kazrack at one point in time?  Wow.  Don't know too many people who can claim that.


----------



## Elrik_DarkFury

We really need an update as soon as possible. 
Come on Mr. Nemmerle , just a small tiny update, pleeease!!!


_______________
The Wizard


----------



## el-remmen

Elrik_DarkFury said:
			
		

> We really need an update as soon as possible.
> Come on Mr. Nemmerle , just a small tiny update, pleeease!!!




Between life's business and getting bogged down in setting the scene in Nikar whenever I do get around to writing it had been slow going. . . . I will try to finish something this coming weekend since, as of yet, I have no plans and plenty of time.


----------



## Dawn

Hey Nemm, just a quick bump to let you know we're thinking about you.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #68 (part 1 of ?)*

*Session #68*

Anulem, the 14th of Ter – 565 H.E. of the 4th Age

Kazrack, Ratchis, Martin, Gunthar, Flora, Dorn and Bones each came through the gate, one at a time and stepped to the right.  The dwarves looked them up and down as if to make a mental inventory of their weapons and equipment, and a good look at their faces.

The light of the nearly full moon washed over the town giving a clear view of it.

“Fascinating,” Martin murmured.

Nikar was a town of three tiers built into the side of the mountain.  The tunnel led out through a gatehouse onto the central tier, which had a gradual curve to the northwest.  The lower tier was about thirty feet below on the left, and the upper tier was nearly sixty feet above on the right.  A natural wall of jagged rock protected the town from access from above the tunnel on the mountain face, while a severe drop-off protected from below.  They could see the road that led to Nikar widened and continued beyond the town.

The central had a handful of tiny tree-lined streets made by white stucco houses with shale roofs.  Immediately on the right was an imposing structure.  A building surround by fortified walls that was built into the cliff-face and ran all the way up to an impressive round building with a central spire above it that sat on the edge of the upper tier.  Narrow towers flanked the building all the way up and decorated galleries were on each level.  It among the finest dwarven stonecraft Kazrack had ever seen, and it was clearly a safehouse for the Nauglimir Dwarven Merchant Consortium, and the building above it was the Temple of the Grandfathers. (1)

They could also see a set of stone steps similar to those leading down from the cemetery leading to the upper tier.  From the little of what could they see of the lower tier from where they were, it seemed more spread out, with many gardens and smaller scattered building with tin and zinc roofs that glistened in the moonlight.

“Weapons must be kept tied with peace-knots at all times,” the dwarf instructed them.  “In fact, there is no reason to wear weapons in town at all, so best keep them and your armor locked away in your inn room, or wherever you might be staying.”

Kazrack nodded.  Gunthar rolled his eyes.  Bones tapped his bare foot impatiently.

“There are severe penalties for the casting of magics that compel people to do things against their will,” the dwarf looked at Martin.  “That includes using charms for business deals and to get a better price in the market, and there is no summoning of any kind without express written permission of the council.  Is that all clear?”

Everyone agreed.

Ratchis led the group down a narrow alley that was in the shadow of the cliff that formed the third tier towards the stairs.  The town was shutting down for the evening and they could see shopkeepers taking down their signs and turning down their lanterns.  Most of the shops on this level looked as if they served as the shopkeepers’ homes as well.  They passed a cobbler, a baker a cooper and a general store.

As they climbed the tall, partially open steps to the upper tier, more of the lowest tier became visible.  There was a wooden set of steps that went down from the central tier to the lowest, but even in the moonlight they did not look to be well kept.  There was a broad set of stone steps on the western side of town that marked the edge of the lowest tier.  It seemed like nearly all of the western third of the lowest tier was built partially underground.  They could see the lights of many colored lanterns from down there.

“That is the gnomish quarter,” Ratchis said to Martin, noticing the watch-mage had stopped to look.  “Halfling live there, too, though.  There are mines and public baths down there as well.”

The party noted a dwarven guard checking in on two human guards posted at the top of the steps.  They considered the party carefully, and though they did not stop them they were obviously looking to see if their weapon were knotted.

Kazrack nodded to them.

The cottages and buildings of the upper tier were much nicer and more extravagant than those below.  Each cottage seemed to have a lot more land around it, and the gardens here were filled with colorful flowers, not with spare roots and herbs.  There was a great plaza at the eat end of town, above the tunnel entrance to the town.  The muted moonlight of Mind’s Eie (2) shone against the tall peaked council building, with its four tall columns above marble steps.  It was one point of the triangle-shaped plaza.  The other two were the gray and black stone of the dwarven temple, and the caramel-colored stone and brilliant golden roof of the temple of Bast.  There was a fountain in the center of the white-brick plaza.

In fact, most of the upper tier’s buildings were made of white stone and brick, and the flicked of candle and lantern light and the contrast of flowers, ribbons and velvet curtains in this affluent area gave it an almost ghostly glow. 

Ratchis led them up the broad front street towards a rectangular two-story inn.  Smoke billowed from its chimney and music and revelry could be heard from within.  

Martin read the name on the sign aloud, “The Inn of Friendly Flame.”  The sign’s wording was carved with fiery letters and decorated with two faux jets of flame shooting out from each side, lined in gold paint.

“This is the nicest inn in town.  Get rooms here,” Ratchis said. “I’m going to go see my teachers, Jetta and Narcil.”

“Where’s the whores in this town?” Gunthar asked, putting a hand on Ratchis’ shoulder to stop him.  The half-orc turned and pulled away angrily.

“There are none that I know of,” Ratchis sneered.  “Be respectful when in this town. The last thing we need is you getting into trouble, or getting us all in trouble.”

“I don’t want to get into trouble, but trouble just seems to find me.  It’s kind of a curse,” Gunthar said, actually looking hurt for a moment and then smiling slyly.  “The Northrop Curse, but then it is balanced out by the Northrop Blessing.”

He waggled his eyebrows and did a small hip thrust.

“Well, at least you are consistently unpleasant,” Ratchis sighed.

“I love you, too, Snuffles.”


The inn was packed, as one might expect to see in many popular taverns throughout Aquerra on Anulem. (3) The party took a table by the hearth, while Martin the Green saw the inn-keeper about rooms.

The inn-keeper, Huggert, was a portly man, barely five and a half feet tall.  Aside from white tufts on the sides, he had a shining bald head, and his wrinkled and scarred chin held a gnarled dusty gray beard.  He showed Martin two reasonably priced suites they could rent by the week.  The half-dwarf (4) had one of his maid-servants fetch them mutton stew and a pitcher of ale.   The two serving maids were built much like Huggert, squat and thick, and with the barest visible scrubby facial hair on their chins.

Back down on the central tier, Ratchis kicked the dust from his books at the mat before a small white-washed cottage with a thatched room covered in pitch.  Colorful sleeping flowers, and the first budding vegetables lined either side of the path off the street to the house, visible in the glow of the lit lanterns that lined the walks.  The half-orc noticed one of the dwarven town guards eying him.

He knocked on the door with a big ham-fist.

The door opened suddenly.

“You are never early Ro…” The young woman that opened the door stopped and looked up from Ratchis’ chest to his face.

She wore a simple white sleeveless dress that revealed well-toned arms.  Her skin was white as alabaster and her nearly blue black and straight; cut at chin length.  She had big beautiful blue eyes and sharp handsome features like the statue of a hero or goddess.  She was barely five feet seven inches tall.

Ratchis had no idea who this was.

“Uh… hello?” Ratchis said, meekly.

“…Nephthys be praised!” the woman cried, and leaped forward grabbing the ranger in a tight embrace.  “You are Ratchis!”

“Um, who are you?” Ratchis choked out.  He gently pulled the beautiful woman off of him.

“I’m Mercy!” she said with a smile.  Ratchis could now see she wore a necklace of scored and broken chains about her neck, as it had fallen over the collar of her dress when she reached up to hug him. “I am Jetta and Narcil’s daughter.  They never told you about me?”

“No.”

“I am being rude, making you stand out here.  Come in!”

The cottage had one cozy room.  Two lofts provided bed space flanking the comfortable padded chairs making a semi-circle around a fireplace, while another corner served as a kitchen with a small table and three simple wooden chairs surrounding.  There was an iron stove there as well.  Another held two cramped desks piled with books and papers, above which hung a variety of weapons and pieces of armor.  Ratchis found it little changed from when he had stayed here, save for his own muddy footprints on the rug, which Jetta often chided him for affectionately.

“It is so good to finally meet you,” Mercy said, smiling and putting a teakettle on the stove. “My parents told me all about you.”

“Where are Jetta and Narcil?” Ratchis asked.

“They are off on a mission in the Outlands (5), seeking to smash a slaving ring they got wind of working out of there,” Mercy replied, gesturing to a chair. Ratchis could smell something delicious cooking.  He noticed the table was set for two.  “I would be with them, but I had just returned from a sortie against the Tall Twin River Pirates of Menovia, and needed to rest after that ordeal, and they wanted me to stay behind to act as a balance to the overly-zealous law and order elements in the town’s leadership in their stead.”

“I need to ask something of you,” Ratchis said, haltingly.  “I do not mean to be a rude guest, but it strikes me as odd that your parents never told me about you.  As much as I hate to do it,  I would like for you to consent to allow me to use one of Nephthys’ miracles to read your aura, and determine your intent.”

Ratchis looked down, feeling slightly ashamed, but then looked up at Mercy steadily.

“If you must,” Mercy replied.  “I understand it can be hard to trust when you have seen the kinds of things those dedicated to fighting for freedom often have to see, or even seek out.”

Ratchis called to Nephthys and after a moment sighed, “I’m sorry.”

“No need to be,” Mercy said.  “Now tell me, what brings you back to Nikar, from what mother and father said, I would think you would not be eager to come back.”

“Well, I was eager to see your parents,” Ratchis replied.  He suddenly became very aware of his own ragged state and stammered.  “But I am mainly here to gain aid and resources with my companions to overcome a great evil that grows in one of the Little Kingdoms.”

“Start from the beginning,” Mercy said.

“Well…”

There was a knock on the door.

“Oh my! I forgot I was having some over to dinner,” Mercy cried and got up and ran to the door, throwing it open.  “You are actually on time for once.”

“An error I shall endeavor to never make again,” came a playful tenor from the shadowy doorway.  A slight man came in, rail-thin but with a youthful handsome baby-face, he had olive complexion, green eyes and wavy dark brown hair.  He wore a long fancy waistcoat, and a ruffled white shirt and tall boots.  He pulled off his velvet gloves and walked in.

“I see you have a visitor,” the man said, and stepped over to Ratchis looking him over with a fake smile that widening in lieu of wincing. Ratchis saw the man a silver necklace set with sapphires and a gold lion-shaped pin on his coat.   He put out his hand.  “I am Roland of Bast.”

Ratchis stood and put out his own hand.

“Ratchis was a student of my parents,” Mercy said.

“Friar Ratchis, is it?” Roland asked, with a tone of recognition in his voice.

“Just Ratchis will do,” the half-orc replied.  There was a long awkward moment as they all stood there.  Whatever was cooking on the stove gurgled.

“Would you mind terribly if Ratchis joined us?” Mercy said, beginning to set another place, without waiting for an answer.  “Ratchis was about to tell me why he his companions are in Nikar and about the great mission they are trying to undertake.”

Roland bowed stiffly. “Any guest of yours is a guest of mine,” Roland replied with forced graciousness.  “But I do think we will need an extra bottle of wine for this kind of talk.  Allow me to hurry off to the inn and purchase one or two.  I shall return momentarily.”

And with that he was gone.

“Is that your betrothed?” Ratchis asked Mercy.

Mercy’s eyes widened, “Uh, no… no… Roland and I have known each other since childhood, though I had not seen him for many years until recently.  He is a good man, though a bit fickle.”

Roland was back faster than Ratchis would have though possible.  He held up two bottles of the Princeton Vales (6) and smiled.

They sat down to eat and were quiet for a while.  

Ratchis looked to Roland.

“Do you live here now?  Are you a resident?” Ratchis asked.

“For the moment,” Roland replied.  “I have left and returned many times, but honestly, present company excepted, I am bored.”

“Don’t lie, Roland.  You know you grew bored of me long ago,” Mercy chided him.

“Well, yes… That’s true,” Roland winked lasciviously at Mercy, and Ratchis frowned.  “But right now I am looking to do some good works for the glory of my goddess, Bast.  Perhaps there is some aid I can give to your own efforts.”

“I am not sure how much you would like it where we are going.  My companions and I face almost certain death.”

“Yes, well… Isn’t that always the case,” Roland replied wryly, taking a long sip of wine.

“Will you take an oath on Bast that what I will tell you now will not leave this room?” Ratchis asked.

Roland made a big show of standing and placing his left hand over his heart.  He held his wine glass up t the air with his right. “On my honor as a servant of Bast, goddess of cats, may all manner of felines worry my flesh and rend my eyes from their sockets if I should share any of the secrets I learn from you this day.” 

Ratchis instinctively reached up to the make-shift patch covering his own destroyed eye.

“How did you lose your eye, Ratchis?” Marcy asked.

“I did not lose it.  It is still there, just useless.”

“Lovely…” Roland said, sitting down and refilling his glass after another long swig.

Ratchis sighed and began to retell the tales of the Fearless Manticore Killers.

After a long night of the meandering tale, interrupted by many questions and clarifications, Mercy invited Ratchis to sleep in his old place in one of the bedlofts, while she took her parents spot. Roland staggered out to return to the temple of Bast where he stayed, after promising to return for dinner again the next night, so that Ratchis might bring the rest of his group over to meet them both.




----------------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	A temple of the dwarven gods.

(2)	Aquerra’s moon is sometimes called “Mind’s Eie” in old documents and in poetry. 

(3)	Anulem is the only day of the week that common folks ever take off from work, or work only a half-day in the afternoon (making Teflem a popular night for revelry as well).

(4)	Half-dwarves are exceedingly rare in Aquerra.  Very few live past infancy due to disease and birth defects that are not understood.  In addition, they are sterile and are often referred to in a derogatory as ‘mules’.

(5)	The Outlands is a several hundred square mile frontier that takes up about a forth of the great island. It is known to be a place of huge monsters and warring and rampaging humanoid tribes, including ogres, trolls and giants.  It was immortalized by the circa 500 H.E. bard, Hemmesh, as ‘The Sea of the Land Sharks’.  Recently, the Nauglimir Dwarven Merchant Consortium opened a southern road along the coast to by-pass the Outlands and start trade with the towns of the Far Shore League.

(6) The Princeton Vales an area northwest of the Freetown of Princeton on the eastern shore of Derome-Delem known for its fine wines.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Ahhh, that hit the spot.  Now back to my writing.

Thank you,
GW


----------



## Manzanita

Psyched to see the new thread open.  Making progress on things.  And lots of new twists opening up here.  Hmmm.  I didn't trust old Roland, but your intro says a new PC is introduced, and who would it be other than him?  Oh, Mercy herself, I suppose.  Both sound like clerics.  Your players seem to like clerics.

Happy to see it rolling along.  Thanks for the update, Nemmerle.


----------



## monboesen

> Your players seem to like clerics.




As the campaign is both exceedingly difficult and many classes limited in some way by house rules or campaign design (no slight intended nemmerle) its IMO a natural choise. 

Clerics simply offer the best survival chance in nemmerles game. Fighters/Rogues and their ilk are limited by the low magic approach. A problem that grows worse with increasing levels.

Mages (if Martin is a typical mage) are very limited in the new spell gaining department and find it hard to cope with the frequent very deadly fights.

Playing a character who can fight decently (to cope with many battles) and have its own inherent magic (to comepensate for low magic in general) is just plain good sense.


----------



## mmu1

monboesen said:
			
		

> As the campaign is both exceedingly difficult and many classes limited in some way by house rules or campaign design (no slight intended nemmerle) its IMO a natural choise.
> 
> Clerics simply offer the best survival chance in nemmerles game. Fighters/Rogues and their ilk are limited by the low magic approach. A problem that grows worse with increasing levels.
> 
> Mages (if Martin is a typical mage) are very limited in the new spell gaining department and find it hard to cope with the frequent very deadly fights.
> 
> Playing a character who can fight decently (to cope with many battles) and have its own inherent magic (to comepensate for low magic in general) is just plain good sense.




As someone who played a fighter/rogue in the campaign for a few months, I'd tend to agree. Not sure whether that was what motivated everyone who plays a Cleric in that game (don't think it was) but it's basically the only class (well, druids, too) _almost_ not affected by the various restrictions.

Fighters and rogues end up being rather underpowered relative to typical D&D because of lack of magical equipment, mages learn spells very slowly (and need to keep track of many spell components that are generally taken for granted in most games), and Bards are basically unplayable as long as Ratchis is in the party - unless someone plays a Bard that doesn't use any Enchantment abilities.


----------



## Manzanita

who did you play, mmu1?  Derek?  He was a ranger rogue.

You'd think maybe a monk would be a good choice given the paucity of equipment.  I was thinking we'd see that hobgoblin monk again.  Maybe we will.  Why are bards useless w/Ratchis around?  They make too much noise?  And hey - Martin's got plenty of spells w/his new handy (RAT-BASTARD!!) spell book.   

In any case, I guess that answers my question.  It looks like we'll have another cleric of Nephrys in the party.  Welcome Mercy!


----------



## mofos21

monboesen said:
			
		

> Fighters/Rogues and their ilk are limited by the low magic approach.






			
				mmu1 said:
			
		

> As someone who played a fighter/rogue in the campaign for a few months, I'd tend to agree.




I, on the other hand, disagree.  While it wasn't in Nemm's game, I did play a rogue in an Aquerra campaign (run by Rastfar on these boards).  And I did not feel limited in the slightest (except by my character's short attention span ) or underpowered.  He was an effective fighter and had a host of skills he was quite proficient at, which helped the group to continue on at times.

Character survival/effectiveness has more to do with how the character responds to particular situations, not just having access to spells (or magical equipment) and being an adequate fighter, IMO.



			
				mmu1 said:
			
		

> Fighters and rogues end up being rather underpowered relative to typical D&D because of lack of magical equipment




If you took a fighter or a rogue from an Aquerra campaign and plopped them in the middle of a typical D&D campagin for their level, then yes, they would be quite underpowered.  However, the whole Aquerra setting is low-magic.  It's not just a restriction placed on the PCs.  I would wager that the ratio of PC magic to world magic in both Aquerra and "typical" D&D is similar.



			
				Manzanita said:
			
		

> who did you play, mmu1?




He played a character who is yet to be introduced.


----------



## Ciaran

mmu1 said:
			
		

> As someone who played a fighter/rogue in the campaign for a few months, I'd tend to agree.
> 
> _[snip]_
> 
> Fighters and rogues end up being rather underpowered relative to typical D&D because of lack of magical equipment



I have to say that I got to play your character in a few combats after you left the game, and he was _scarily_ effective.  And that was primarily against undead, where his Sneak Attack didn't come into play.

- Eric


----------



## monboesen

> Character survival/effectiveness has more to do with how the character responds to particular situations, not just having access to spells (or magical equipment) and being an adequate fighter, IMO.




The character levels and the type of foes are also an important factor in this regard. 

In the last game I actually played in (rather than dm) I was a dwarf cleric. A quiet unassuming bloke who happily let his fighter/ranger/paladin friends handle most combat. 

He didn't have great stats or any magical equipment. The campaign was very similar to nemmerles in the approach to magic, both spells and items.

This was about at the time 3ed came out and we quicly switched from a homebrew 2ed to 3ed. I think we started out in 3ed rules at 3rd level. At this relative low level Thrain was somewhat weak. He could heal, he could take a hit well. But overall he did not contribute much to the groups succes.

When we ended the campaign he was level 9. At this point the entire group (6 players) was entirely dependent on my dwarf cleric and the human wizard. Without them they could never have won the fights at that level. Neither would they have succeded in revealing plots or finding the true enemies (though a face man could have done some of that).

This was IMO only going to get worse as we climbed in levels. At high levels, fighting high level worthy magical opponents (dragons, demons, wicked wizards and so on) you won't win without magic.

The less magic a campign includes, the more powerful those that have it becomes. Of course fighters will be powerful. Until they face a foe with dmr they cant cut through. Or a flying enemy with powerful ranged attacks. Or a demon with a myriad of spell like abilities (and often both of the above as well) that requires will saves.


----------



## Dawn

Sweet!  Another chapter!


----------



## mmu1

Manzanita said:
			
		

> who did you play, mmu1?  Derek?  He was a ranger rogue.
> 
> You'd think maybe a monk would be a good choice given the paucity of equipment.  I was thinking we'd see that hobgoblin monk again.  Maybe we will.  Why are bards useless w/Ratchis around?  They make too much noise?  And hey - Martin's got plenty of spells w/his new handy (RAT-BASTARD!!) spell book.
> 
> In any case, I guess that answers my question.  It looks like we'll have another cleric of Nephrys in the party.  Welcome Mercy!




Ratchis has serious problems with anything that "interferes with free will" because of his religious beliefs, which means every time a Bard used something Enchantment based to manipulate someone, there'd have been an in-character argument and/or fight, which makes the class an impractical choice. Not really a gameworld issue, more of a campaign one.

As for Logan's effectiveness... Anything I bring up at this point will just sound like complaining, so let me limit it to saying I disagree, and only point out that that, for example, Gunthar (who would get his clock cleaned by either Kazrack or Ratchis) had better stats, better equipment, and was higher level than Logan. I know it's how Nemmerle runs the game, you don't get instant benefits for having a glowing "PC" sign over your head - which is a legitimate DMing style, but I found it unsatisfying after a while.


----------



## monboesen

> You'd think maybe a monk would be a good choice given the paucity of equipment




Actually after checking up on Ratchis and Kazracks ability scores and the Aquerra sites wealth of martial arts feats I think either of them would have done great as a monk.

Without much magic (and at times even decent mundane) equipment the monk becomes a very viable choise. But I think they might be restricted a lot in Aquerra by training options and the need of finding the right master to teach them what they want to learn.


----------



## Manzanita

*bump*

Looking forward to the next installment and meeting some new PCs!


----------



## el-remmen

I've started on the next installment, but honestly I am finding it very difficult because it is mostly metting people and planning - and while I find it a very rich part of what goes on in the game and I look forward to capturing that aspect of it, it is a lot harder to actually write than combat scenes - and there is the beginning of one of those as well at the very end of the session, which I am thinking is going to be at least three parts in the writing. . .

In the meantime, some *Out of the Frying Pan Trivia!*

Three questions from each book, plus a bonus question. . .

*Book I*

Where was the party heading when they met Ratchis?


Why were they headed there?


What kind of soldiers had taken Jeremy and Kamir captive?


*Book II*


Name three people who came to Gothanius in the same group as Martin the Green.


What was Mozek Steamwind's official title among the Garven Gnomes?


Which god did the paladin captive of the Circle of the Thorn worship?


*Book III*


Who are the Shepherds?


Name the two gnomes that temporarily joined up with the party in the Pit of Bones?


Where is Hurgun's Maze?


*Bonus Question* 

What is the Ogre Scar?


----------



## Dawn

Uh oh.  Questions.

Now where did I put my copy of the “Out of the Frying Pan” cliff notes…….


----------



## Manzanita

B]Book I[/B]

Where was the party heading when they met Ratchis?

Heading for Gothwhatever...


Why were they headed there?
To escape the draft/fight a dragon

What kind of soldiers had taken Jeremy and Kamir captive?
Mernovian something.  That was a disturbing scene; the death of Kamir.

*Book II*


Name three people who came to Gothanius in the same group as Martin the Green.
The toad, didn't he?

What was Mozek Steamwind's official title among the Garven Gnomes?
He was the rotating leader.  title

Which god did the paladin captive of the Circle of the Thorn worship?
I thought he was a cleric?  Osiris?

*Book III*


Who are the Shepherds?
People who look after sheep!  

Name the two gnomes that temporarily joined up with the party in the Pit of Bones?
It may come to me....

Where is Hurgun's Maze?
in the necropolis of doom.  No.  I can't remember...

*Bonus Question* 

What is the Ogre Scar?[/QUOTE]
a mountain.


Gosh.  I suck.  I think we old timers who read the first books years ago are at a disadvantage here.  I am jonesing for an update.  In any case.  And so far, I'm the winner :\


----------



## Ciaran

I'd take the quiz, but I don't think that would be entirely fair.


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> *Book I*
> 
> Where was the party heading when they met Ratchis?
> 
> Heading for Gothwhatever...
> 
> 
> Why were they headed there?
> To escape the draft/fight a dragon




I meant more specifically.  The party was heading to a specific town for a specific purpose.



			
				Manzanita said:
			
		

> *Book II*
> 
> 
> Name three people who came to Gothanius in the same group as Martin the Green.
> The toad, didn't he?




Who?  



			
				Manzanita said:
			
		

> Gosh.  I suck.  I think we old timers who read the first books years ago are at a disadvantage here.  I am jonesing for an update.  In any case.  And so far, I'm the winner :\




I am working diligently. .  . very soon, grasshopper. . .  I mean, evertwining Manzanita. . .


----------



## Manzanita

Where was the party heading when they met Ratchis?

right.  They were heading to that little town.  The leader of their troop sent them.  I can't remember the name of the town or why they were sent...


----------



## Pyske

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Where was the party heading when they met Ratchis?
> 
> right.  They were heading to that little town.  The leader of their troop sent them.  I can't remember the name of the town or why they were sent...



 They needed to repair a wagon, which had broken down.  They went to fetch the local wainwright.  Like you, I don't remember the name of the town.


----------



## el-remmen

Hey All!

Just a qucik note to say I'm sorry for the delay in updating. . . It has just been taking me a lot longer to write up than I thought it would and i had the notes of three different sessions mixed up so that didn't help.  It seems that this point in the campaign we did not have a set system for keeping notes as Helene (who played Jana, Derek and Anarie) was gone and she had been keeping them before.

I am also trying hard to set the scene of Nikar as the next half dozen sessions or so take place in this town. . . one cool thing I realized is that you will all get to see what a "magic shop" in Aquerra is like when Martin visits one. . . and what wizards go through when trading spells.


----------



## Elrik_DarkFury

> I am also trying hard to set the scene of Nikar as the next half dozen sessions or so take place in this town. . . one cool thing I realized is that you will all get to see what a "magic shop" in Aquerra is like when Martin visits one. . . and what wizards go through when trading spells.




I can't wait to read more about this!  

___________________
The Wizard


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #68 (part ii)*

Ralem, the 15th of Ter – 565 H.E.


Early the next morning, Ratchis hurried back to the inn to catch the others and tell them of dinner at Mercy’s that night, but Kazrack had already left.

The dwarf clutched the bag of runestones about his neck as he stood before the great door to the Temple of the Grandfathers.  It held one corner of a triangular plaza that had a fountain at its center.  The temple of Bast and the Town Hall made the other two points.  Kazrack took in the elaborate runic carving about the doors and the impressive statues that flanked the broad steps up from the plaza and bowed his head in silent prayer.  He had not been to a true temple of the dwarven gods since his early childhood. (1)

As the first lights of the day came over the mountain from the east, the doors to the temple opened and Kazrack could hear the prayer of the finest hour (2) emanating from within; as did the warm glow of the hearth beyond the altar.

Two temple guards stood in their traditional red robes and axes on either side of the antechamber.  Kazrack nodded to both of them as he walked past, stopping to strike a small hammer against a steel anvil twice before he crossed the threshold into the temple proper.

He heard many voices up near the altar forge as he walked up the aisle between the rows of grooves carved into the floor where the congregation’s prayer stones would be laid during a ceremony.  The ceiling was adorned with circular patterns of dwarf-carved stalactites that were covered in number runes that retold the making of the world.  Squat windows lined the very top of the tall walls, letting in streams of light in oblique angles that kept the place dim, though braziers lined the walls.  Huge round columns held up the ceiling and created narrow corridors on either side, where the braziers were.  

Kazrack slipped his own prayer stone into one of the grooves right before that and knelt.  He could see that an older dwarf was lecturing a group of dwarven girls, too young yet to have chin whiskers, on the forging of metal. (3)  He laid his forehead upon the smooth stone and closed his eyes in prayer.

Kazrack did not know how long he had been lost in prayer when he sensed someone standing to his left.  He spoke the closing prayer (4) and stood.

“Well met, brethren,” the dwarf said.  He wore a simple gray robe, cinched with a leather belt with a broad brass buckle.  About his neck was a pouch of rune stones, but he also had a leather thong holding flute about there as well.  He had brown beard with highlights of shining red, and a shaved head.  “I am Krechkar, host of the Temple of the Grandfathers. Welcome.”

“Um culled Kushrak,” Kazrack said, raising the back of his hand to his chin to keep his drool from spilling over to the floor of the house of worship.  “Uz ooh cun tell Uh fund et dishacul tuh shpeak.  Uh wut luk tuh shpek tu tuh huh preesht.”

“Um, I am having a hard time understanding you, brethren, but I see you are a rune-thrower, and I assume you wish to see the High Priest, Bedkorak.  Follow me, and I will bring you to his Hands and Voice, and see if a meeting can be set up.” (5)

Kazrack followed, leaving his prayer stone in its place.  This was the safest place in the world for it.

Krechkar led Kazrack past the altar on the left through a small door and down some stairs to a labyrinth of subterranean rooms, though the room he was led to had a small barred window that looked out on the Central Tier and the Nauglimir Dwarven Merchant Consortium Safehouse below.  He could also see the gatehouse and guarded tunnel entrance to the town.

An older dwarf came in nearly an hour late. 

“I am called Dalim. I am the Hands and Voice of the High Priest Bedkorak, devotee of Hodanar,” the dwarf said.  He wore a simple brown robe the same color as he flowing beard, which was bright red, despite his duller brown locks.  His beard had two large braids in it, one woven with silver wires. He had a bag of runestones about his neck and small golden horn at his belt.  “Welcome to the Temple of the Grandfathers, Kushrack.”

“Kashrak,” Kazrack said, standing. “Uh wsuh hoping tuh she uh Eye Preesht.  Uh have uh important mutter tuh dishcush wish him.”

“Perhaps you can tell me what this matter is and I can pass it on to him,” Dalim suggested.

“Ash you cun tull, Uh have difficulty shpeaking, und would rudder nut repeat myshelf,” Kazrack forced out.

Dalim hesitated.  “You may have a long wait.”

“Giff him dish,” Kazrack said, and he reached into his bag and pulled out something wrapped in a cloth, and handed it to the priest.

Dalim nodded and left.

It was less than ten minutes later than he returned to lead Kazrack to the High Priest’s chambers.

In a small office, connected to a small simple alcove that served as a bedchamber.  It had a low ceiling like the other rooms on this lower lever, but had a small oven that served a shrine, and a large stone desk, covered with runes.  Nooks in the far wall held countless stone tablets and scroll tubes. 

High Priest Bedkorak stood as Kazrack walked in.  He had thick white hair that flanked his round and young-looking face, and a thick white beard marbled in places by coarse black hairs.  He had two round obsidian beads in he hair and beard.  He had two silver teeth on the front right side of his mouth.

“Kazrack,” Bedkorak said.

Kazrack got down on one knee and touched his forehead to the back of the High Priest’s hand. Dalim left.

Bedkorak gestured for Kazrack to take a seat next to the desk.  He could see the object he had sent him lying unwrapped on the desk.  It was the Hand of Natan-Ahb. (6)  The High Priest gestured to the mithral and platinum gauntlet.

“This is a great thing you bring to us,” Bedkorak said.  “It’s value is priceless.  How did you come upon the Hand of Natan-Ahb of the great citadel lost to us in the war with the humans?”

“Muh cumpunions und Uh weredair,” Kazrack mumbled.

“Ah, yes, your wound,” the high priest said.  “Dalim mentioned it.  Let me call to the gods to re-knit the fractured bone.” 

Bedkorak stood and walked over to Kazrack and placed one big calloused hand beneath his mangled chin and one atop his head.  He spoke a long chanting prayer to Rivkanal, and Kazrack winced as his flesh healed over very quickly and the shards of jawbone moved about inside his pus-filled flesh. 

Bedkorak took his seat again, and Kazrack stretched out his tight-feeling jaw and rubbed it with one hand. 

“Rivkanal be praised,” Kazrack said.

The high priest smiled, and then asked his questions again, “Where did you find the Hand of Natan-Ahb of Barak-Rrin-Sonn?” (7) 

“My and companions and I were there seeking the map that would show us the location of Hurgun’s Maze,” Kazrack said, trying to keep a smile off his face.  It felt good to be able to speak clearly and free of pain.

Bedkorak’s eyes widened.  “Hodonar bless your travels!  I sense there is a long tale behind this.”

Kazrack nodded.

And so, Kazrack told the tale as best he could of his journey to Gothanius, the gnomes, Mozek, Hurgun’s Maze and the Pit of Bones.  Bedkorak asked no questions, but listened silently.  In the end, Kazrack added that he felt ready to uncover more of the greater mysteries of his faith, and hope to gain more lore and learn more runes while he was here.  Bedkorak agreed, and also agreed to allow Kazrack use of the forge to craft a suit of plate mail of exceptional quality. (8)

Finally, Kazrack had one last request.

“My companion, D’nar, his true name is… Ratchis… He lost an eye in our battle with the dark elves and I was hoping there might be some remedy for it you could provide.”

“You spoke a good deal of him in your tale, but his name… It is not dwarven, in fact it seems like it could be a name in the tongue of our enemy,” Bedkorak said.

“But his is half-man, that is the strong half, and works for the common good,” Kazrack explained.

Bedkorak sighed and shook his head.  “Let his own gods deal with his wound.  The greater gifts of our pantheon cannot be wasted on such as those.”

“I understand,” Kazrack replied.  “As I will be spending much of my time here, I need to return to the inn and tell my companions of my plans.”

“Go and drink and make merry with you companions, and let tomorrow’s finest hour be the beginning of your work and reflection.”

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

After breakfast, Martin the Green made his way to the Council Hall.  He climbed the broad marble steps, and looked at the stylized bronze oval disk set with diamond-shaped markers about its border, each of a different precious stone.

Through the great metal doors of beaten bronze was a great foyer of immaculate marble lined with corrugated columns.  Before him, carved of marble as well, was a tall desk that was unmanned.  On the rounded wall to its right was a board covered in notices and signs. On its left were another set of bronzed double doors.  Halls curved away to the left and right.  

“Hello?” Martin’s voice echoed down the hall, but there was no response.  He looked down one hall and then the other, and then shrugging his shoulders walked over to the board to see what was posted there.

It seemed to be a place where the minutes of the council meetings were posted, along with requests for laborers of both the skilled and unskilled variety, and other news and pronouncements.   Amind varied and sundry items on the council’s agenda, he found record of a long meeting regarding reported sightings of undead in the Garden of Stones on the cliff above the town. (9)  An official warning was given to townsfolk to avoid the area if at all possible, and if not possible to go only by day.

A notice on the bottom right hand corner of the board had a list of the various council member’s public office hours.  Lydia of Isis only had office hours on Osilem in the afternoon; two days away.  He was looking over the names of the other council members when he heard a voice coming echoing down the left corridor.  Whoever it was spoke quietly, but the voice reverberated the hall.

“Bring this directly to _[inaudible]_,” the voice said. “And no getting side-tracked.”

Martin then heard a disturbing sound like cracking and flapping leather, followed by the skittering coming down the marble hallway towards him, and then the flapping again, over and over.

Finally, a disturbing looking small creature came flying out of the hall into the chamber.  It was a tiny humanoid with a hunched and emaciated body of yellowish crusty skin.  It had large black rheumy eyes, a stubby tail, black claws on its hands and feet, and brownish leathery wings covered in hardened pimply flesh.  However, its most noticeable feature, was its large disproportionate nose.  It had a piece of black slate tied about its neck and a hunk of chalk fastened to it.

It landed and looked up at Martin.  The watch-mage closed his mouth.  He had read of such things in the Academy of Wizardry, but had never seen one.  It was a homunculus. 

The ugly little creature frowned at him and walked closer. It’s ungainly body contorting, ad it was forced to put one hand down before it to keep its balance every few steps.  It was clear that one of it legs was half again as long as the other, and had twisted and blackened foot at its end.

“Um, hello… I, uh, was looking…” Martin began.

The creature pulled the slate from around its neck and began to furiously write on the board with its chalk.  It opened it mouth as if to say something, but just turned the board around and pointed from it to the watch-mage. 

“Who you?” the board asked.

“Uh, I am Martin the Green, Alumnus of the Academy of Wizardry, and Interim Watch-Mage of the Kingdom of Gothanius.  I came looking to speak with Lydia the Holy.”

The homunculus squinched up its face like it had just tasted something bad.  It erased the board and began to write again, more carefully this time, stopping twice to correct some mistake and write again.  He turned the board around.  “You big important wizard.  Come to Master Mylor.  He is smartest, anyway.”

“Well, I _was_ hoping to talk to a council member, however, I am not sure if my current time allows…”

“Follow,” the board was now saying and the homunculus began to hurry the best it could back down the hall.

Martin followed.

The creature stopped before a thick oaken door on the left side and turned.  It was writing something on its board.  “Wait.”

It went in and came out a moment later, a twisted smile on its wound of a mouth.

It pointed to its board, “Go.”

“Martin the Green?  Come in?” came an articulate and nearly sibilant voice from within the office.  The homunculus continued on whatever chore it had been sent on.

The office was brightly lit by tall narrow windows on the far wall.  Behind a large oak desk, sat a man that was bald, except for curled tufts of black hair behind each ear.  He had neat black goatee and a round bright smiling face and big blue eyes.  He stood as Martin entered, and revealed himself to be nearly as tall as Ratchis. He reached out a long-fingered hand with long pointed manicured nails.

The man wore soft green silk robes with a multitude of small yellow stars embroidered on it.   

“I am Mylor, sometimes called Mylor the Mystical, an esteemed member of the Brotherhood of the Green Necromancers. (10)  Perhaps you have heard of it? I had heard of your arrival in town last night and meant to send you an invitation to come speak with me as soon as I thought you had settled, but lo and behold, here you are seeking me out.  How fortunate!” He sat back down and gestured to another chair.  “Please sit.”

“Um, thank you,” Martin replied, sitting.  “But I must be honest I came looking for Lydia the Holy, or perhaps a member of her staff so that I might arrange meeting her.”

Mylor made a face as if a bad smell had wafted into the room, and then it broke open into a wide bright smile.  Martin could notice that the council member had painted lips, and wracked his mind to remember where in Aquerra that was common.

“Oh, I am sure Lydia’s aide, Daphne, I think her name is, is off somewhere not to far stuffing that hole beneath her piggish nose with pastries.  She is certainly hard to miss, like the proverbial barn,” Mylor let out a hissing laugh.  “But while I have you here, I ma sure there are things we can talk about that would be more helpful to you.  I have always found that the traveling watch-mage is much more worldly than those who sit around protecting peasants and laborers in their tiny villages.”

“Well, watch-mages fill an important role, that I would not think is all that different from yours and the council’s,” Martin replied.

“Yes… Well, the point of a council is that different members bring different strengths to the rule and prosperity of a town,” Mylor said, his smile never dying. “But all of that aside, I am sure we can help each other whatever our agendas.”

“And what exactly is the agenda of the Brotherhood of Green Necromancers?” Martin asked, finally sitting.

“Oh, you have not heard of us?  What are they teaching in that Academy these days?  Is it true that necromancy is not taught there are a focus anymore?” 

“Not since the days of… the Corruptor,” Martin replied. 

“Ah, yes, the Corruptor…,” Mylor shook his.  “His rash ways paints all of us who specialize in working with the energies of life and death a bad name.  Of course, you know that necromancy can be used to for the benefit and betterment of people.”

“Yes…”

“Will you be staying in Nikar long?” 

“Perhaps a month,” Martin replied.  “One of my companions hopes to train and gain lore at the dwarven temple.”

“Mmm-hmmm, well… You feel free to come to me if you need anything during your visit.  I can see it being very beneficial to the two of us.  There is much lore and magic to be shared.”

Mylor the Mystical’s eyes opened wide.

“Yes, thank you, I may take you up on that,” Martin stood and offered his hand. “I have to be going now.  My companions will be expecting me and I need to find… Daphne, was it?”

Mylor took Martin’s hand daintily, and frowned.  

“I would look in her quaint little college on the central tier, or the bakery that is nearby, wiping pie-filling from her swollen chin.”

Martin smiled weakly.

“Don’t hesitate, Martin,” Mylor said.  “You will find that I am versed in a great amount of lore that is useful to one who takes an adventurous road.”

Martin nodded and left.

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

The watch-mage headed back to the inn to find Ratchis counting coins on the floor, with some gems and other precious items laid out on a sack beside him.

The half-orc looked up at Martin, “What have you got?”

When Kazrack returned he joined them in counting and diving things up.   Dorn, Flora and Bones knocked on the door and entered, wanting to get their share of the treasure gained from the orcs and give the party some gems as a gift.  Flora and Bones would be leaving the next day with a caravan headed for Cutter Jack’s.

“And what about you?” Ratchis asked Dorn.

“I think it was a sign for me to help you help Nephthys,” the sandy-haired adventurer said. “At least for now.”

Afterwards, Ratchis and Kazrack made for a weapon-smithy on the lower tier, while Martin ran an errand to the general store and the Shop of Fine Sand, as the local magic shop was called.

There was no sign of Gunthar.

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

Ratchis has been to the weapon-smithy earlier in the morning, and found his interaction with the bigoted dwarf who ran the place to be impediment to haggling, so he wanted Kazrack to come with him.  He had been looking at masterwork great swords, and he wanted to purchase one despite the exorbitant price.  

The lowest tier of Nikar was very different from the rest of the town.  Aside from one bricked plaza outside the Public Baths, everything here was much more crammed together, and the western edge of the tier was a series of closed in streets running between closely packed together hutch-like houses.

By trading the masterwork warhammer that the party had taken off one of Mozek’s brothers, and several hundred more silver pieces, Ratchis was able to get the sword of his dreams.  The long broad blade was slightly curved at the top, with an extra sharp edge.  The blade seemed to emerge from the mouth of a golden dragon with ruby eyes, which served as the hilt and pommel, with twining golden tail about a large ruby.  He swung it around in the open space by the forge and was impressed with it balance.  It was well worth the price. (11)

“Here ya go, use it on other orcs,” the dwarven smith said as he passed over the sword.

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

Meanwhile, Martin went down to the Central Tier.  There he could see dwarven and gnomish workmen digging out plots to line the main street with trees.  He stopped and talked with one of the gnomish workers, who offered to show him the way to the component shop, and then invited him to come to Fizzlepop’s, an inn in the Gnomish Quarter.

Martin the Green had to ring a bell from the outside if the Shop of Fine Sand to be let in.  The door was opened by a tall elf that was as thin as a rail.  The elf’s hair was a long bluish-black tied back, and his skin had an alabaster sheen to it. He had long sharp features without a crease or wrinkle that still seemed to suggest a great age, and big green eyes. 

Sherinian Felestas’ shop was a cramped little white stucco house, line with urns and glasses cases filled with a myriad of things, from live frogs and crickets, to flowering bushes emerging from the pots.  There was paper and ink and book-binding materials for sale here as well, and a variety of scroll tubes, vials and beakers.  Many colorful birds sang as they chased each other from perch to perch, and a large snake slithered from an urn, hissing at another glass tank with several lizards and turtles. 

As the tall elf led Martin to a large over-stuffed chair that ace another with a tea cozy between them, before a large wooden desk, the watch-mage heard a chicken clucking behind a counter.  Yet, despite all the animals, the place smelled of fresh cut flowers, and a cool moist breeze flowed in from a narrow window, high on one wall.

Sherinian sat across from Martin the Green, his fade placid.

”Welcome, Watch-mage,” the elf said.  “It does me honor that you have decided to visit my humble shop. I was hoping you’d stop by when I heard of your arrival.”

“You heard of my arrival, already?” Martin was surprised.

”I am a member of the council,” Sherinian said.  “We are briefed on the arrival all people of note.”

Martin smiled. “Ah, so Lydia the Holy would already know I was here?”

“I would assume so.”

“I already met another member of the council when I went looking for her, Mylor.”

Sherinian said nothing.

“He offered to help me in my arcane studies,” Martin continued.

“I doubt that would win you many friends,” the elf replied.

“Why do you say that?” Martin cocked an eyebrow, as the elf poured them both tea without asking.

“Well, he openly admits his membership to the Brotherhood of Green Necromancers,” Sherinian said.  “And while there has never been an evidence of foul doings on his part, his reputation is not the best, here or among your own order.”

“Have there been other watch-mages through here?”

“Yes, on occasion.  Alexandra the Lavender of Bountiful is here at least once a year, and others pass through, as well.”

“Richard the Red?”

“I believe he was here as recently as one passing of the seasons,” the elf replied.  “Are you looking for him?”

“Kind of… Uh, it is a matter of our order.  I cannot really speak of it,” Martin changed the subject some. “Do you know why there is no representative of the Academy stationed in Nikar?”

“The council keeps voting the proposition down whenever it comes up.  I think a couple of members fear that a watch-mage would end up voted onto the council as soon as an opening was available and use the resources of the Academy to exert political control.”

Now it was Martin’s turn to be quiet.

“My condolences on the archmage’s passing,” Sherinian added.

“Thank you,” Martin sipped some tea, happy that he had taken off Lacan’s Demise the night before.  “If I may ask, I wondering if you might be available for some training, I am on the cusp of understanding the arcane mysteries of the Fourth House.”

Sherinian shook his head.  “I am sorry, but I do not have the time, nor inclination to take on such a responsibility.”

Martin nodded.  “Perhaps you can recommend me to someone?”

The elf shook his head again.

“Do you come seeking or bringing me something?” Sherinian asked, putting down his cup and saucer and standing to go behind the desk.

“Uh…Both,” Martin replied, turning in his seat to follow.  “I have some things I have gathered along the way.   Could you use phase spider venom?”

A long conversation about components ensued, with Sherinian writing down long lists of things Martin needed as he read them off.  Martin would return with the money after cashing in some gems at a shop the elf suggested.  They also negotiated trading a spell or three, if the elf could have choice from the books Martin had collected along the way.  In addition, the watch-mage would lend his book of runes, sigils and wards to the elf for a week or so.   Finally, Sherinian told Martin where Daphne’s cottage was, so that he might go looking for her there.

*End of Session #68*


----------



## el-remmen

*notes for #68 (part 2)*

-----------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	While the dwarven community in Verdun has a temple chamber they gather to pray in.  It is not officially a hallowed place. 

(2)	These are a series of prayers that are sung aloud upon undertaking work for the first time in the morning.

(3)	Traditional dwarven education for females includes a basic knowledge of both warcraft and metal and stone craft, as they are expected to fill a support role in times of war or disaster.  Male dwarves are not typically taught any of the skills considered to be in the domain of females.

(4)	All dwarven prayers are book-ended by opening and closing lines common to all prayers that indicate what is about to be said (and what was just said) was meant for the gods alone.

(5)	High Priests of the dwarven faith have one or more direct assistants that serve them in different capacities.  One or more dwarves can hold any number of positions.  Thus, a high priest with a small staff of immediate servants might have one servant that has the title of “Hands and Voice” of the High Priest, while another could have three servants which act as the “Hands, Voice and Eyes” of the High Priest (one for each title), or some might even have several assistants that hold the same title.  These assistants are always priests of note, often holding other useful skills useful to the temple, whether it be orator, historian, bodyguard, tactician or a myriad of others.

(6)	The Hand of Natan-Ahb was found in the Pit of Bones (see session #60).

(7)	_Barak-Rrin-Sonn_ roughtly translates into “Shield Above Good Stone” and is the name of the citadel that sunk into what is now the Pit of Bones.

(8)	*DM’s Note:* Kazrack was ready for training to gain 3rd level spells and had some skill points to spend.  He also would be crafting masterwork full plate.

(9)	The _Garden of Stones_ was the cemetery and monastery of Anubis the party passed right outside of Nikar. (see Session #67)

(10)	Little is known of the Brotherhood of Green Necromancers, and most of what is known is rumor as opposed to fact. While claiming to want to put a better face on the necromantic profession, they are often accused of worshiping devils, and seeking to build armies of undead.

(11) *DM’s Note:* This masterwork great sword cost Ratchis, 990 pieces of silver, after the hammer trade-in, he only had to pay 440.  The great sword grants a +1 to attack rolls, and a +2 to damage rolls.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Thanks for the DM notes too.  I like the idea, and will probably use it for future installments of my own story hour.

GW


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## el-remmen

Graywolf-ELM said:
			
		

> Thanks for the DM notes too.  I like the idea, and will probably use it for future installments of my own story hour.
> 
> GW




 :\  I've been doing those since the story hour started. . .


----------



## weiknarf

I'm glad Kazrack's face was fixed finally.


----------



## el-remmen

weiknarf said:
			
		

> I'm glad Kazrack's face was fixed finally.




So were we all. . .  Kazrack player actually talked like that for that whole time (except when speaking out of character, of course).


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

nemmerle said:
			
		

> :\  I've been doing those since the story hour started. . .





Yes, and I've enjoyed them over time, and commented on them before if I'm not mistaken.  You had enough of them for their own post this go round.

I'm just noting that I saw it here best, before I *borrow* it. 

GW


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## el-remmen

Graywolf-ELM said:
			
		

> Yes, and I've enjoyed them over time, and commented on them before if I'm not mistaken.  You had enough of them for their own post this go round.




Yeah, I use them because I like to avoid exposition in the writing of the story hour, and yet there is info I think people might like to have about background stuff.



			
				Graywolf-ELM said:
			
		

> I'm just noting that I saw it here best, before I *borrow* it.
> 
> GW




I hardly invented endnotes for you to be teling me you're borrowing the idea  . . .     

But I'm glad I could inspire. . .


----------



## Manzanita

right.  I can see how this would take you a long time to write, Nemmerle.  Thanks for getting it done.  I really enjoyed this update.  Looks like Dorn will join the party too.  Good.  They could use a rogue.  Can you take a minute to update us on everyone's level and classes?


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Can you take a minute to update us on everyone's level and classes?




Sure.

At this point in the campaign:

Kazrack  Fighter 3 / Priest 5
Ratchis Ranger 3 / Priest 5
Martin Illusionist 8

Dorn Fighter 3 / Rogue 1

Gunthar Fighter 8


----------



## Dherys Thal

*The gift that keeps on giving*

This campaign often depresses me, and yet I keep reading it - the details and the 'realism' are what's so enjoyable I guess.  The last couple of posts have been a great deal of fun to read.  

It's a very distinctive story hour in terms of its flavor.  Realism is probably the right word - the injuries are severe, people die routinely (but not in a campy LoT way - not bagging on LoT) and instead of thinking of the PCs and feeling care-free and mythical,  one instead feels surrounded by ominous portents, burdened, tired, injured etc. - which on some level makes the heroism more meaningful.

I'm relieved that Kazrack is finally well again - I was developing an empathic complex for the poor bastard.  He truly is the Job of Aquerra.

I really worry about Martin's book and this necromancer in town as well - something in the back of my mind says the party are being used as pawns, but I can't say why.


----------



## el-remmen

Dherys Thal said:
			
		

> This campaign often depresses me, and yet I keep reading it - the details and the 'realism' are what's so enjoyable I guess.  The last couple of posts have been a great deal of fun to read.
> 
> It's a very distinctive story hour in terms of its flavor.  Realism is probably the right word - the injuries are severe, people die routinely (but not in a campy LoT way - not bagging on LoT) and instead of thinking of the PCs and feeling care-free and mythical,  one instead feels surrounded by ominous portents, burdened, tired, injured etc. - which on some level makes the heroism more meaningful.




Well, thanks for continuing to read despite the depression. . .  

Heck, I should thank my players for continuing to play despite the grim atmosphere of the campaign.

As for the distinctive flavor, I work hard to get it to come through in the story - and really want to give the impression that the heroes are struggling in a larger world of which they are a very small (and yet increasinly crucial) part.

I won't comment on the speculation. . .


----------



## el-remmen

I started on the next installment last night.


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## meleeguy

<staggers into the light>

I'm in...the present?  How strange.

I've been reading your story hour for a while now and wanted to give you the obligatory thank you and keep it going post. 

I love your critical hits table.  I ran the idea past my players of using it but they got all quiet and just looked at each other and mumbled.


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## el-remmen

meleeguy said:
			
		

> <staggers into the light>
> 
> I'm in...the present?  How strange.
> 
> I've been reading your story hour for a while now and wanted to give you the obligatory thank you and keep it going post.
> 
> I love your critical hits table.  I ran the idea past my players of using it but they got all quiet and just looked at each other and mumbled.




Wow.

You labored through all of that stuff just to catch up to the "present" (really about a year and a half ago), and as your reward you gte to wait weeks between installments!

Hooray! 

Feel free to drop a bump to bug me, and thanks a lot for joining in. . .Now that you have read this far, any particular favorite parts or characters?   

Oh, and don't let your players wimp out - tell them about the one hit decapitation of the vampire in the Necropolis of Doom and they'll be wanting to do it too!


----------



## meleeguy

el-remmen said:
			
		

> . . .Now that you have read this far, any particular favorite parts or characters?




That's a big question, considering the volumes you've written.

The dwarven citadel incursion really made me feel like I was 'there', deep in a place drenched with history.  That it was there before I came, and will be there when I've left.
That is the single best feeling I can get from a game or story.

I can't wait 'til they go back - and perhaps mess around with ancient dwarven weapon installations? heh

So, in terms of around the table reactions, when do you know you've become a RBDM?  My mother told me it was good to have goals.


----------



## el-remmen

meleeguy said:
			
		

> So, in terms of around the table reactions, when do you know you've become a RBDM?  My mother told me it was good to have goals.




Typically, when a player or player has made what they think is the best course of action, but when the consequences are revealed they turn to you and scowl, declaring "You bastard!"


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #69 (part i)*

Martin navigated the narrow streets on the “shade side” of the central tier (1), following Sherinian’s directions to Daphne’s house.

He found the small white cottage, as he came around a corner, nearly bumping into a pale gaunt young man, dressed in gray and wearing spectacles.  Daphne was on her hands and knees in the garden out front, scooping out holes with a spade.  Her woolen black hair was tied back with a kerchief, and her ample hips bsulged against a white apron.

“Miss Daphne?”

She looked up, dirt staining her chubby cheeks.  She stood, pushing a set of black spectacles up to her big blue eyes.  She had a soft prettiness.

“I am Martin the Green, watch-mage of the Academy of Wizardry,” Martin announced, puffing himself up a little.  “I was informed I might make an appointment to speak with Lydia the Holy with you?” 

“Oh, Mister the Green.  I had heard of your arrival,” she put out a dirty gloved hand and then yanked it back embarrassedly and pulled it off and then offered it again more demurely. 

Martin shook it.

“Well, my mistress is very busy for the next few days,” Daphne said.  “Why don’t you come inside and let me clean up and we can figure something out.”

Martin the Green followed the young woman into the cluttered main room of the cottage.  There were several potted plants on a table, otherwise covered in papers, and every free space of wall was covered in shelves holding myriad ceramic curios. 

Daphne ducked into a room, and emerged a moment later wearing a simple white dress and sandals.

“Tea?”

“Yes, thank you,” Martin smiled.

Daphne fussed in the tiny adjoining kitchen, commenting on the weather and asking about the condition of the roads from the east.

“Umm, when do you think Lady Lydia will be available?” Martin asked, as he took a cup and saucer from the smiling maid.  She placed a plate of cookies on the table in front of him.

“Well, she is very busy, but honestly I cannot answer that question until I look at her calendar, which is back in the Council Hall.  I plan to go by there first thing tomorrow to get some things before my daily meeting with my mistress.  I will be certain to speak to about it then, but… can you tell me what it is in regards to?”

Martin paused.

“Well, I would rather not divulge the details to any but her, but sufficed to her that the fate of Derome-Delem hangs in the balance.”

Daphne’s eyes opened wide and she dropped her tea.  “Really?”

“Yes.”

“How imminent is the danger?” Daphne stood.

“Well… uh, um… we can’t really say _exactly_ when it will happen if it does,” Martin began.

“So it may not happen?”

“That is what my companions and I are trying to prevent.”

Daphne wiped up the tea and the pieces of the broken cup and then collected Martin’s.  She appeared a lot calmer.

“I will be certain to try to convey the gravity of the situation,” Daphne said. “Perhaps, tomorrow… No, let’s say the day after why don’t you return and I am sure I will have an appointment with Lady Lydia then.

“Why don’t we make it lunch at the inn,” Martin suggested. “It will be my treat and we can talk more at length.  I am staying at the Inn of Friendly Flame.”

Daphne agreed with a broad smile.

“There was one other thing,” Martin added as he was shown to the door. “I was hoping Lydia, or perhaps you might… uh, be able to recommend me someone to help me in my arcane studies. I would think that a priestess of Isis would know someone, uh… _appropriate_.”

“Um, yes… I am sure my mistress can help you with that,” Daphne said.  “I will make sure to mention to her as well. I can think of one or two people that might be appropriate, though of course that would be up to Lady Lydia.”

Martin the Green left the small cottage to return to the upper tier and the inn, in order to prepare for dinner at Mercy’s, as the afternoon was growing long.

As he turned to the right out on the street, he did a double-take as he noticed the morose young man in the spectacles again.  The young man turned away quickly from where he was standing across from Daphne’s house and hastily walked in the other direction.

“How odd,” Martin said aloud.

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

Martin the Green found his companions at the Inn of the Friendly Flame preparing for dinner as well.   He related to them much of what he had learned in his day about town, and speculated aloud as to the political landscape of the town.

“There are two mages on Ruling Council,” Martin explained.  “One is a priestess of Isis, and the other is a necromancer.”

“Is he a known…?” Kazrack began to ask.

“No, he is too tall to be a gnome,” Martin replied.

“I meant, is he a known necromancer,” Kazrack frowned.

“Haw! Haw!” Gunthar came strutting into the suite.  “You get yer jaw fixed and people _still_ can’t understand you.”

“Where have you been all day?” Ratchis asked Gunthar.

“Exploring this sh*te-covered excuse of a burg,” Gunthar replied.  “Now what’s for dinner?”

“We are going over to the house of my former mentors,” Ratchis explained.  “To talk with their daughter, Mercy and priest of Bast that may be joining us.  I have already told them all of what has happened to us, and what might happen still if Mozek is not stopped.”

“A Bastite?  You can never trust a Bastite!” Gunthar protested.

“I might have handled it differently, myself,” Martin said. “But what is done, is done.  Let us go meet him.”

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

Several hours later found them sitting around Mercy’s house, drinking after a huge dinner of game hens stuffed with bacon, baked apples, and huge pieces of rye bread with slabs of cheese and butter.  Gunthar was very drunk and alternately dozed on the over-stuffed chair and awoke to mumble curses and eye Mercy lasciviously.

“How did you get stuck with him anyway?” Roland asked.  He had reiterated his promise over dinner, and had even given Ratchis some silver to go towards the party’s needs while in town.

“I forget,” Kazrack replied.  Roland smiled broadly, and his apple cheeks flushed even more red. He took a deep sip of his wine.  The dwarf made note of how much the Bastite had had to drink already.

“You know, I don’t think we need a little priss like this ponce with us,” Gunthar stood and turned to face Roland, and swayed.  “It’s a rough world out there, girly.  I think you might muss your hair or smear your face powder if you try to take on the kind of things heroes like us have to deal with all the friggin’ time.”

“Oh Gunthar, you’re awake!” Roland said, not bothering to hide insincerity.  “I am sure a hero like you would be more than enough to keep me well-protected.”

“I don’t think I want you getting that close to me,” Gunthar said, and he sat back down.  “Let’s talk about the magic items.”

“What about them?” Ratchis asked.

“I want my share.  What have we got? This is party business right?  Then let’s get it done so we can get back to the inn and get to the real drinking.”  Gunthar stood again, and walked over to the table, which Ratchis had helped Mercy clear.  He grabbed the nearly empty bottle of wine and drained the last bit of it right into his mouth.  Red wine spilled over his chin and through his blonde scruff and down his neck.  He looked at Mercy and pointed to it.  “Hey!  Wanna lick that?”

“Gunthar!” Ratchis stomped over to him, and Kazrack stood up, but Mercy stepped between the towering half-orc and the foul-mouthed warrior, and pushed the latter hard towards the door.

“Why don’t you just go now?” Mercy said to him calmly, but Martin noticed her tensing a fist.

Roland just looked away with a smile, and then looked back straight-faced.  “It seems like you have offended the lady,” he said to Gunthar.

“I don’t care how you feel, bloody poofter!” Gunthar counter, and then he turned back to Mercy.  “You must be a powerhouse in the sack.”

She pushed him again, and Ratchis opened the door.

“I’ll see ya at the inn,” Gunthar said to his companions from the doorway.  “And I want my fair share of the magic stuff and gems, but I’m sure I have nothing to worry about, you are the filthy _virtuous_ ones.”

And with that he left.

“He truly is a test for you from Nephthys,” Mercy said to Ratchis, letting her anger subside and smiling and slapping him good-naturedly on his broad chest. “I am glad I was not armed, for I might have smashed my mace into his face.”

“Whenever I feel like my anger is going to explode at him I remind myself that he was probably not loved enough as a child,” Ratchis replied.

“Oh, Ratchis!  You are so big-hearted,” she lay her hand softly on his chest this time, as if to touch that heart. “Mother and father were right about you.”  

“As crass as he is, he does have a point,” Kazrack said, sitting down across from Roland. “You have agreed to come with us, but we have not all agreed to let you do the coming.  What skills do you bring to our party?”

Roland smiled even wider and then playfully mimicked the stern expression of the dour dwarf.  “There is much my goddess has endowed me with in way of her miracles, and to adopt the exalted form.”

“The what?” the dwarf asked.

“I can transform into a panther,” Roland said, matter-of-factly.

Kazrack scoffed.

“I have heard of such things,” Ratchis said.

“As have I,” said Martin.

“I can demonstrate,” Roland offered.

“No, better to not squander the power your goddess gives you just to satiate our interest,” Kazrack said.

“It would not be squandering. Sometimes I think I prefer that form.  Oh, I can also turn into a house cat, which is very useful for sneaking about… uh, I mean, you do, you know, sneak around some, right?”

“Ratchis does the sneaking,” Kazrack replied.  “But we will take you at your word.”

The conversation meandered on for a time.  It was agreed that the party would use some of their funds to purchase pearls for use in _identifying_ their magical items, and that Roland would do what he could to discover as much as possible about the Ruling Council, and Mylor the Mystical in particular.  Martin mentioned the warning posted in the Council Hall about the undead in the Garden of Stones, and they party decided they would look into it the following night.

“Where there is undead there is a necromancer, and since we already have a necromancer, all we need to do is connect the dots,” Roland reasoned.

Mercy begged off returning to the inn with the others, but Roland said he’d meet them there.  He just needed to go by the temple of Bast where he was staying and change into something more suiting an evening in a tavern, than a private dinner.

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

Roland paused in the foyer of the temple of Bast to stroke a lynx that was luxuriating in the moonlight through a glass pane.  He was washed and changed and dripping perfume, and on his way over to the Inn of Friendly Flame to meet up with his new companions.

“Oh, he came back,” a song-like woman’s alto said from behind him.

“Oh, hello Norena,” Roland stood and turned, bowing slightly to his fellow priest. (2)

“When we first decided to establish this temple I took his presence as a sign from Bast that this was the proper place,” she said, kneeling to stroke the wild cat herself.  It purred.  “He does not come back every year, and when he does it is only for a few days, and never in winter.” (3)

She stood again.

Norena was tall, taller than Roland, and her svelte frame was much more comely on her than it was on him.  She had sharply defined features, and narrow green eyes outlined in black pencil, which contrasted with her long curly red locks.  She wore a simple low-cut maroon dress, and amber cat’s eye encased in gold on a fine chain just long enough to make the medallion draw more attention to the cut of the dress.

“I was coming to find you, Roland,” Norena’s broad smile implied laughter, and her eyes twinkled. “I am going to the dinky little inn that serves as high society around here to meet up with my new companions.  I fear I will be leaving Nikar for a time very soon.”

Roland put his arm out and Norena took it and he began to lead her out of the temple.

“Now isn’t that strange?  I was going to do the same to you,” Roland laughed.  “I have found some new companions as well, but in my case we will not be leaving for a while.  Whom have you joined up with and to what end?”

“You first.”

Roland’s smile widened even more and he took a deep breath.  “They are friends of Mercy of Nephthys, you know Mercy?”

Norena nodded.

“Ratchis is a half-orc, but he is a friar as well, and he has watch-mage and a rune-thrower with him, and some cheap warrior muscle following them around,” Roland explained.  “They are hear to do some training and gather information for a little pickle going on up in the Little Kingdoms.”

“The Little Kingdoms, hmmm?  Was there not word of a dragon in those parts?”

”So they say,” Roland’s eyes narrowed.  “You were going to tell me about who you leaving with.”

“Oh friends of a friend,” Norena said nonchalantly.  “One of the infamous Brothers Greyish and a Librarian of Thoth.  We’re taking the road out to Cutter Jack’s to help him find some thing.”

“What thing?”

“I don’t know,” Norena giggled.  “I never pay too much attention to details.”

And with that she burst through the swinging doors of the Inn of Friendly Flame.  

The place was alive with sound, sight and smell.   The wood paneled walls and ceiling glowed an orange brown from the tiny colored lanterns at each table and above the hearth. One large bronze lantern hung in the center of the common room.  It was carved with flying human figures wreathed in fire.  A halfling was playing a hurdy-gurdy in a corner leading a group of happily drunken dwarven singers in a funeral song.  Groups of friends and couples ate and drank and talked, while Huggert and his two half-dwarven barmaids hurried back and forth serving and delivering.

“Norena!” someone cried, and she hurried in to exchange insincere kisses. Roland surveyed the room and saw Ratchis’ imposing form at a long bench with Martin beside him.  They had their backs to the door.  The bastite joined them, taking a seat beside Gunthar.  Kazrack and Dorn were squeezed in at the end of the bench.

“Drink up, Schnuffles!” Gunthar slurred, gesturing with a full shot glass to the two dozen shot glasses lined up in rows on the table before them; each of them brimming with dwarf spirits.

“Snuffles?” Roland asked, reaching for one of the shots as he grabbed Huggert’s attention to bring wine to the table.

“Because of his pig snout,” Kazrack explained, and took a shot.

“I do not have a pig snout,” Ratchis said matter-of-factly, glaring at Gunthar, and then taking a shot. “I have big nostrils.”

Gunthar was leaning over to his right, with his head lolling on his arms, but sat up suddenlt letting out a laugh and a stream of spit and liquor on Roland.  “I’m starting to think you’re getting a friggin’ sense of humor, Snuffles,” Gunthar coughed out.  He noticed Roland glaring at him as he frantically wiped at his velvet jacket with a napkin. “What the in the Nine Hells are you lookin’ at, prissy?”

“A drunken lout,” Roland replied.

Gunthar burped and let his head slide back to the table again.

“Good come back,” Roland added, snidely.

Gunthar sat up again, straightened himself up and took another shot.  He had noticed Norena approaching the table.

“Oh, Roland these must be the companions you told me about,” She said, looking at each of them in the eye. Her gaze stopped on Gunthar, who flashed her a mischievous smile.  “Oh, who do we have here?”

“Hey, come over here and sit on my lap,” Gunthar offered.

“Oh, okay,” Norena said, pushing her hair from her face and going around Roland, but letting a hand trace the back of his neck.  She plopped down on Gunthar’s lap with an exaggerated wiggle to get comfortable.

Kazrack coughed on a shot of spirits, blushing at the behavior. 

Roland introduced each of his new companions to Norena of Bast, as she absently played with Gunthar’s long blonde hair.

“What happened to your ear?” She asked, grimacing.

“An orc even uglier than Ratchis,” Gunthar replied with a wink.

“Oh, he must have been really ugly!” Norena said, throwing a playful wink to Ratchis.  “And for what it’s worth, I believed your side of the story all along, you know, when that unfortunate thing happened.”

“Thank you,” Ratchis replied.

“Of course, few other people in this town are as open-minded as I am,” she flashed her eyelashes.

“What unfortunate incident?” asked Kazrack.

“The guard mentioned it when we arrived,” Ratchis said. (4)  He took another shot.  Martin took his first and coughed, causing Gunthar to laugh at him.  One of the barmaids arrived with a flagon of wine and several tin cups.

“Oh.”

“And, Martin the Green!  Alumnus of the Academy!” Norena said, allowing Gunthar to pour her some wine.  “You know, one of my old adventuring companions is a watch-mage.  Perhaps you have met her?  Alexandra the Lavender?”

Martin nodded.  “Yes, I met her on my way to Gothanius.” (5)

There was an explosion of laughter at the far end of the bar on the right side of the common room.  There, a group of people, mostly women, was gathered around a figure at the corner of the bar.  It was slight man in a billowy sailcloth shirt, and a feathered hat on the bar. He had long slicked-back bluish-gray hair, sharp powdered features, bright white teeth and the slightest point to his thin ears.

He was intriguingly handsome, and his obvious half-elven heritage lent him and air of mischievousness in his smile.

He looked over at Norena, who stood up and he did the same.  “Norena, my dear!”

The man came over to the table gracefully.  He carried a slender blade at his waist.

“This is Razzle Greyish, one of the infamous Brothers Greyish of Ettinos,” Norena introduced him.

“And renown throughout Aquerra as the finest swordsmen to draw breath,” Razzle added with a bow and a flourish. “I, of course, am the finest even among my brothers, though I am but the youngest.”

“Razzle is one of my companions coming with me,” Norena said.

“And where is it you are going?” Martin asked, standing and introducing himself.

“Oh, one can never share one’s secrets, can one?” Razzle replied.

“Well, I did not mean to pry, but as a watch-mage I thought I might be able to add something to your lore or quest,” Martin said.  “Is it not the watch-mages that people come to when they need someone they can trust?”

“Ah, but the same is said of the Brothers Greyish, and are you about to divulge your own secrets?”

“Touché.”  

“Ha, ya might as well tell him all the secrets, Ratchis tells them to every bloody poofter that comes around anyway,” Gunthar stood, annoyed and still drunk.   Norena was holding Razzle close, with a hand around his slender waste and the other stroking his chest.  “I’m going to the Gnomish Quarter where they really know how to throw a party.”

He stumbled out cursing.

“And when is it that you leave, Norena?” Roland asked, pouring himself more wine,

“In perhaps a week’s time,” she replied.

“No need to rush it, I have just arrived and have not yet gotten a chance to see what the town has to offer in the ways of wine and women!” Razzle added, and with that he dipped Norena to his left and planted a big kiss on her lips.  She came back up laughing and the bard by the hearth struck up an upbeat tune, joined by drummers and a horn-player that had just arrived.  Many couples leapt to their feet and tables were pushed aside, as drunken dancing and singing bloomed.

Several hours later, Martin the Green found himself staggering down the narrow rear hall to the common room, returning from outhouse.   While he had not kept up with Kazrack and Ratchis, he thought he could at least keep up with Roland, and found that he failed.  Suddenly, Norena was right in front of him.

“Ooh, Martin, but are you looking out of sorts,’ She cooed.

“I think I will be getting some water and going to bed,” Martin slurred.

“Is that an invitation?” Norena leaned in close to Martin, and looked at him, her full lips shining in the torchlight.

“Um, well… uh…”

She laid a big open mouth kiss on him, and sputtered and gasped.

“I… uh…”  He felt a strange tingling, as if his mind were becoming more foggy than even all the wine and dwarven spirits hasd made it, and then he shook it off.

“Oh, you’re as green as the come,” Norena laughed.   “I guess I know why your classmates dubbed you as they did.” (6)

She winked and then slipped past him, heading towards the outhouses.

Martin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and continued on into the smoky and still loud common room.  Dorn helped him to bed, while Kazrack and Ratchis left to go to the Temple of the Grandfathers and the Mercy’s house respectively.   Roland had disappeared much earlier in the night, amid the dancing, with nary a ‘good night’.

---------------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1) The north and south sides of the cliff tiers of Nikar are referred to as “shade side” and “sun side”, respectively, because of the way the shadow of the cliff above falls at certain times of the day, the north sides tend to be more shaded.

(2) Hierarchy in the Church of Bast is not steadfast.  Priests who found temples can establish any kind of internal organization and hierarchy they like.  While usually it is established in terms of who gains the most favor from Bast (i.e. levels), this is not always the case and a Bastite visitor only has the title of ‘guest priest’, wherever that might fall in the established organization.

(3) Temples of Bast are home to many kinds of cats and other felines. Even otherwise wild or dangerous animals like lions and leopards will spend time around them, leaving alone priests and visitors alike, as long as they are unmolested. 

(4) See Session #67

(5) The rest of the party met Alexandra the Lavender in Session #7

(6) Graduates of the Academy are granted their color by their fellow students of the same graduating year (with approval of the Faculty).


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

A little intrigue in the city.  So they are bastites, and not bastages, that is probably for the better.

Another fine update, looking forward to the next.

GW


----------



## monboesen

> “I… uh…” He felt a strange tingling, as if his mind were becoming more foggy than even all the wine and dwarven spirits has, and then he shook it off.




Hmm. Warning signs flashing red. Definately more than a mere bastite me thinks. Could be a succubus but more likely a wisdom draining lamia. That would fit the cat theme well.

And what exactly is Roland. Changing inot cat shape. A druid or a homebrew kind of priest ? 

Sounds interesting.


----------



## el-remmen

monboesen said:
			
		

> And what exactly is Roland. Changing inot cat shape. A druid or a homebrew kind of priest ?




All priesthoods in Aquerra are their own class based on either the Cleric or Druid class with specific special abilities - so for example, priests of Bast cannot turn undead or do any spontaneous casting - but they do can a limited _wildshape_ ability.


----------



## Manzanita

Cool priest differences.  Is Roland going to be a PC?  I think only Mercy, yet there was a scene between him and Norena, which seems a bit odd if they're both NPCs.

Also, the half-dwarves.  What's the other half?


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Cool priest differences.  Is Roland going to be a PC?  I think only Mercy, yet there was a scene between him and Norena, which seems a bit odd if they're both NPCs.




Roland is the first of three new PCs that join up. . .  Mercy is an NPC.



			
				Manzanita said:
			
		

> Also, the half-dwarves.  What's the other half?





Human.


----------



## Sarellion

Why the name change, El-Remmen?


----------



## handforged

I am getting quite fond of this town.  The new character and the change of pace are nice, and I like that Kazrack can talk again.  I am very excited to see where Martin's story arc goes.

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

handforged said:
			
		

> I am getting quite fond of this town.  The new character and the change of pace are nice, and I like that Kazrack can talk again.  I am very excited to see where Martin's story arc goes.
> 
> ~hf




I'm glad you are enjoying it.


----------



## mofos21

*bumpers*

I thought I'd post a repeat of a question that I'm interested in knowing the answer to as well, but mostly to serve as bump.

Here's the question:



			
				Sarellion said:
			
		

> Why the name change, El-Remmen?




And, as monboesen pointed out, I am interested in what's up with Norena.  Something didn't seem right to me either when I read that part.


----------



## el-remmen

You'd have to ask the players about the name change.  They just never took to "The Fearless Manticore Killers" - they will be announcing their "new" name soon in terms of the story hour continuity.

As for Norena. . . well, sometimes things remain a mystery for a long time. . .


----------



## Pyske

I think he meant _your_ name change.  From Nemmerle.


----------



## mofos21

Pyske said:
			
		

> I think he meant _your_ name change.  From Nemmerle.




Bingo!   



			
				el-remmen said:
			
		

> As for Norena. . . well, sometimes things remain a mystery for a long time. . .




A long time, as in, possibly forever?


----------



## el-remmen

Just a little <bump> to say:

The next installment is halfway done and in it, you shall learn the party's new name. . .


----------



## mofos21

Hmm . . .

I guess the question about _your_ name change, poster formally known as Nemmerle, hit upon a touchy subject.  I'm guessing that's why it's been unanswered.

As for the Norena question, I'll drop that and just push ahead to my follow-up question.  Once the campaign is over in RL, would you be willing to answer such questions that were never answered in the game (as long as it doesn't spoil the SH, that is)?  Or would you not want to reveal anything not made known in the campaign?


----------



## el-remmen

mofos21 said:
			
		

> As for the Norena question, I'll drop that and just push ahead to my follow-up question.  Once the campaign is over in RL, would you be willing to answer such questions that were never answered in the game (as long as it doesn't spoil the SH, that is)?  Or would you not want to reveal anything not made known in the campaign?




At that time I will answer any and all questions that I think will not spoil any future campaigns I run. . .


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #69 (part ii)*

Isilem, the 16th of Ter – 565 H.E.

The next morning Martin slept until nearly noon, his head heavy with the wine and spirits of the night before.  

Dorn explored Nikar, while Ratchis and Kazrack began their respective training.  Gunthar was nowhere to be found.  Roland slept into the afternoon.

Impatiently, Martin went by Daphne’s house in the afternoon.  She was on her way out as he arrived.

“Oh, I thought our lunch was tomorrow,” she said, confusion in her voice.

“Yes, well… I am sorry to be impatient.  I just wanted to know if you had spoken to Lady Lydia about my need to confer with her,” Martin asked, embarrassedly.

“Oh yes,” Daphne hefted the pile of papers she held to her chest, and awkwardly pushed her spectacles closer to her big brown eyes.  “As I said, she is very busy and we have not gone over her appointments for the week; that is actually where I am going now.”

Martin motioned for the pile of papers, and Daphne hesitantly handed them to him.  They began to walk together towards the stairs up to the Upper Tier and the Council Hall.

“I did mention to her that you were looking for someone to assist you in your arcane studies, and she gave me a name,” Daphne said with a smile, as if she approved of the recommendation. “I was going to tell you at lunch tomorrow, but I guess I can tell you now.  Her name is Vaysalia.  She lives down in the Gnomish Quarter.”

“Was she an adventuring companion of Lydia the Holy?”

“Only peripherally.  She has helped my mistress with this or that over the years.  She is an illusionist, like you and, uh… a bit of adventurer.  She should be the right fit,” Daphne explained.  “Normally, I would send a message ahead to her, but in this case I think it’d be okay if you just say that Lydia sent you.”

“How will I find her?”

“Go to Fizzlepop’s Tavern in the Gnomish Quarter and ask for her,” Daphne said.  “They are very friendly down there.  Someone will direct you.”

“Thank you very much,” Martin bowed slightly, handing the pile of papers back to Daphne as they arrived at the Council Hall.  “Please thank Lady Lydia for me and that I hope to meet her soon, and I look forward to our own lunch tomorrow.

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

The street of the Gnomish District were narrow, and were made even more narrow by the long shale awnings that pointed low into the street, forcing the tall (and these days, lanky), Martin the Green to walk with great care.  He ducked at each corner of the winding streets, and looked up to get his bearings as well.  He had long ago lost the pudginess of his early days with the party.  Now his face and joints were lined with stretch marks, and deep wrinkles bagged under his muted green eyes. 

The streets were crowded with gnomish homes of various sizes, most built into the ground and then haphazardly stretching out around other houses.  It was all made of stone and clay, and the narrow alleys felt cool, even though the sun glared on the upper tiers.  Many of the homes also had storefronts, and a myriad of signs swung every which way advertising tinkers, coopers, smiths, jewelers, tailors and haberdashers.  The watch-mage was surrounded with the many chattering voices of gnomes, most of whom smiled and tipped their caps as they saw him walk by.

Martin the Green ducked into the low-ceilinged tavern with its tin roof painted red and gold and was immediately reminded of the pub back in Garvan.   A sunken section of the floor held a rack that reached from wall to wall that held over two dozen tapped kegs of beer and spirits.  The bar was very low, and all the stools were cut for gnome-sized patrons, though a halfling and most dwarves would have been comfortable as well.

A handful of gnomes and one curly topped halfling were discussing a loudly snoring human crammed into one of the booths.  His hand still held the mug of ale he had apparently recently spilled all over himself.  It was Gunthar.

Martin smiled weakly at the gnomes, one of which seemed to be proprietor, and walked over to Gunthar, awkwardly kicking the man’s boot. 

“Uh…Wha?” Gunthar snorted, and then sat up startled, dropping the mug and patting at his wet stomach and crotch. He looked up at Martin and winked. “I was dreaming of me Ma.  Now, what do you want?  You guys miss me already?”

“I am here on other business, but seeing you I wanted to make sure you were not off giving the party a bad name,” Martin replied.

“Naw!  These gnomes are good guys,” Gunthar slurred.  He grabbed his mug and stood, banging his head.  He crouched and walked over to where the kegs were, cursing. “I can drink all I want and I pay when I leave, though I have to serve myself, but if you ask someone they’ll get you a drink, though I think they spit in it.”

“Hmm, I wonder why’d they do that?”

“Eh, who cares?” Gunthar shrugged his shoulders and took a deep gulp of beer from his recently filled mug, and wiped the foam from his mustache. He looked up at Martin and winked again. “Anyway, I spit in the ones I get for others just in case.”

Martin turned to notice that the group of gnomes and the one halfling were carefully watching the whole exchange.

“Hey Gunthar! Who’s this? Your girlfriend?” the gnome behind the low bar called.  He wore a green bandanna and had a golden beard and a flat and wide nose that flared out past either side of his face. The other gnomes and the halfling laughed and turned to their drinks.

“Oh sh*te!  I thought it was yer Ma, but then I noticed he hasn’t got a pr*ck,” Gunthar snapped back, and the group of exploded into laughter, including the bartender.

Martin was agog. 

Gunthar smiled.  “Was there something else you wanted, Shirley?”

“Well, I suppose I should be happy you have made some friends,” Martin replied.  “Anyway, I did want to remind you to meet us at the Inn of Friendly Flame an hour before sundown so we can go do that _thing_.”

“Uh-uh.”

Martin walked over to the bar and got down on one knee.

“Good sir, might I ask you if you could direct me to the home of Visalyia the Illusionist?”

“Maybe if you buy a drink, Shirley,” the gnome cracked.  Martin tossed a silver into the copper urn on the bar.

“Heh.”  The gnome explained how to find it.

Despite being confused by the short and winding streets with frequent name changes, Martin eventually found the small clay house that belonged to Visalyia.  She had woolen gray hair, and great corpulent crags around her cracked nose. She painted her eyelids deep purple and wore crimson paint on her lips.

She laughed silently at the end of every sentence she spoke, and rubbed her wrinkled little hands together frequently, turning her head to one side to look at Martin from behind her hair that hung down in long bangs over her face.

After explaining that he was sent by Lydia the Holy over tea in the cramped little cottage, Martin and Visalyia negotiated payment of 350 pieces of silver and the choice of a couple of spells from his found spellbooks.  

“Oh, you watch-mages are always so stingy,” she said and then covered her mouth as if laughing.  “But I know how to get you to open your money pouches and you spellbooks.”

“Oh?  You’ve dealt with watch-mages before?”

“One or two.”

“Alexandra the Lavender?”

“Pshaw! No, not her,” Visalyia crinkled her face.  “No, that brown fellow in Ettinos, and Richard the Red.”

“You know Richard the Red?”

“Oh, I remember him when he was just pipsqueak, and when he first got his cloak.  Nice cloak.”

“Well, he is very stylish.”

“I meant that is allows him to enter the realm of shadow,” Visalyia let an actual laugh escape her, and then she coughed.  “I _identified_ it for him.” (1)

“Oh, can you do that for me?  My companions and I have some things that give off magical auras,” Martin asked.

After further negotiation, she would get second choice of what was identified, as long as Martin provided the pearl needed to cast the spells. 

The training would begin in a few days, but in the meantime, Martin could come back the next day to bring the magical items for identification.

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

The common room of the Inn of Friendly Flame began to get crowded as sundown approached.  The party formerly known as the Fearless Manticore Killers readied their gear in one of the suites above, as they waited for Roland and Gunthar to arrive, and discussed what they might name themselves.

“I don’t even like the idea of naming ourselves,” Kazrack said.  “It seems arrogant.”

“If we do not name ourselves then others always will,” Martin explained.  “People enjoy a shorthand way of referring to a group of people.”

“Dorn, do you have a suggestion?” Ratchis asked his newest companion.  

The shaggy-haired man poured himself a goblet of wine and shrugged,  “It’s your group.”

As they bandied about possibilities, Gunthar arrived.  They all spied a small figure that seemed to be following him in.

“You guys divvy the loot yet?  I want my cut.  Funds are lower than yer momma’s teats,” Gunthar said, immediately grabbing the bottle of wine from Dorn.





Both Kazrack and Ratchis glowered at the blonde Neergaardian, and then looked down to see who was with him.  It was young lithe gnome woman with long brown hair with light blue frosting tied back in a braid and big brown eyes that shone above her prodigious nose.  She wore a flower-patterned skirt, furry boots and ruffled blouse; one of her ears had several piercing.

“This here is Neela,” Gunthar introduced. “She and I, uh… are _friends_.”

The gnome woman looked down bashfully, and then back up and smiled at Kazrack and Martin.  She did not make eye-contact with Ratchis.

“Is she your new girlfriend?” Ratchis asked.

“This here is Ratchis,” Gunthar said to Neela, stroking her hair gently.  “He’s ugly and mean, but he’s alright.  But still, more ugly and mean than alright.”

“Yes, yes. Right, right,” Neela giggled, quickly.  She covered her mouth with her hand and looked up from under her bangs.

Martin stepped forward and got down on one knee to meet Neela at eye-level.  He put out a hand to shake.

“Hello, I am Martin the Green, one of Gunthar’s companions,” Martin smiled.

She giggled and pulled her hands away.

“Right, right. Hi, hi… I…uh, Nisilla,” the gnome girl said.

“Gunthar!  Does she even speak the common tongue?” Ratchis roared.  The brutish half-orc pushed the Neergaardian out of the way and he looked down at the gnome girl. “Can you speak Common?”

“Eep!” Neela (or Nisilla, as she called herself) leapt behind Martin and then hurried over beside Gunthar and reached up for his hand.  

Gunthar knelt down beside her. 

“Don’t worry, pun’kin. His bark is worse than his bite, but his breath, well, that’s worse than a dog’s,” Gunthar smoothed her hair with affection, and winked up at Ratchis.

She rubbed her nose in his blonde scruff.

“In all our travels, this is perhaps the most disturbing of all we have seen,” Kazrack intoned.

“Kazrack, we’ve seen a pit full of zombie half-orc infants being devoured by rats,” Ratchis spat.

The dwarf bowed his head.

“Not having seen that and having seen this,” Dorn said, taking the opportunity to grab the wine back from Gunthar.  “I can only imagine that this ranks somewhere close.”

Both Gunthar and Ratchis scowled at the cohort.

Gunthar walked the gnome to the door of the suite to see her off, explaining that he’d come see her later.  She looked confused and then hurriedly nodded, saying, “Right, right.  Bye-bye.”

He gave her a kiss on the nose and she left.

Ratchis was right up in his face the moment he turned around.

“If I find out that you coerced or tricked her in anyway you’ll be finding out what my fist tastes like!”

Gunthar shrugged and walked back towards Dorn and the bottle of wine without a sign that he took the threat seriously,  “I always figured it tasted like the inside of Kazrack’s ass.”

Ratchis took a step towards him, but Kazrack raised a hand and turned to the irascible Northrop brother.

“Gunthar, we feel you have a lot to learn about camaraderie and friendship, and about respecting your…ahem…peers,” the dwarf said.

“_I_ need to learn about rotting camaraderie and friendship?” Gunthar scoffed.  “Who was it that didn’t allow Aldovar to kill you when all, but Dough… I mean, Martin, were half-dead on the floor?  Who told you about his plan to kill the dragon and let you have a piece of it?  Who has put up with your dour-pusses and grandma points of view for all these weeks?”

“None of those things change that you have not paid us proper respect due companions,” Kazrack said.

“Go take a sh*te on your respect,” Gunthar responded.  “I want my cut of the magic.  I know we found a bunch of potions and other things and I am owed some.”

“I have negotiated with the woman I am training with to get her to identify their magical properties,” Martin explained. “But as I was explaining to Kazrack and Ratchis before, we need to provide her with a pearl worth at least 100 pieces of silver.”

“I have a pearl,” Gunthar said. “But I want to be reimbursed for three-fourths of it by yous, and first choice of what we get.”

“Is it worth enough?” Ratchis asked. He turned to the dwarf. “Kazrack can you appraise it?”

“It is worth bloody enough,” Gunthar said.

“Pearls are worthless trash, what do I know of what silly humans or elves would pay for it,” Kazrack added. (2)

“You will donate freely as part of our group, or we will simply have to do without knowing what the items do,” Ratchis said.

“You can’t afford it, can ya?” Gunthar smirked.  “Spent all your pennies on that fancy-schmancy new sword. Ha! Let the pig-c*cker loose in the city and he buys the whole damn candy shop!”

“This is exactly the kind of thing we are talking about,” Kazrack said.

“I can hear you ladies bickering way down the hall,” a voice said as the door to the suite slammed shut.  It was Roland. He wore a chain shirt that hung loosely on him, clearly it was not yet fastned correctly.  A crossbow was slung on his left side, and a quiver was on his back.  He wore a rapier at his belt.  A tiny metal skullcap rested on his curly brown locks.  “Perhaps you should keep it down, and join me in a drink or three before we go out there. I have learned some things.”

“And I saw something today ya might want to know,” Gunthar added.

“What are you talking about?” Ratchis turned back to the Neergaardian.

“First, I want to make an agreement _beforehand_ about any loot we collect on whatever it is we are about to do in the cemetery.”

“No one will be looting the cemetery!” Ratchis said through clenched teeth.

“You know for someone who supposedly upholds freedom you sure do bloody tell people what to do an awful lot!”

“Is this a bad time?” Roland asked, glibly. He began to open the bottles of wine he had brought with him and pouring some. “Should we cancel the foray against evil so you all can finish your little spat?” 

There was a long pause.

“You had some information?” Martin finally asked.  He declined the Bastite’s offer of wine.

“Groups of youths have been sneaking off to the cemetery at night since the monks abandoned their monastery in the Garden of Stones,” Roland explained.  “They go there to be rebellious and for trysts and the like.”

”So they might have disturbed something, released some undead?” Martin speculated.

“That doesn’t seem unlikely,” Roland replied.

“Heh,” grunted Gunthar as he re-filled his glass.  A thin stream of wine poured down his chin.  “You got one thing wrong there, ponce.  The monks ain’t abandoned sh*te.”

“What do you mean? There have been no monks since they left for their convocation early last year,” Roland said.

“I saw some monks today.  They walked right through town leaving by the western gate,” Gunthar said. “There was three of them.  Black cloaks, wooden sandals, tiny clubs connected with chains, hooked dagger shaped like fangs, the usual worthless sh*te.”

“But the western gate is in the other direction from the Garden of Stones,” said Roland.  “And if the monks were back the Council would know, and that means _I_ would know.”

Kazrack raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, if it were monks of Anubis, but more likely it is monks of that other sect.  The ones we suspect truly worship Rakhefet.”

“Ah, yes you mentioned them at Mercy’s,” Roland said.  “But you never mentioned they had strayed so far from their faith that they’d create, control or even condone undead.”

“I would put nothing past them,” Ratchis said.

“Our previous lenience to these monks was for the sake of our former companion Beorth,” Kazrack added.  “If we meet them again we will let justice prevail instead.”

Ratchis nodded.

“All this talk has gotten me in the mood to do some killing.  Let’s go,” Gunthar gulped his last glass of wine and grabbed his weapon belt from the back of the chair.

They all prepared to leave.

“Oh!  What about the name?” Martin asked.

“Let’s just use the last one we though up,” Kazrack said, obviously bored of the topic.  “It represents what we are trying to do… I guess…”

“Remember your peace-knots,” Martin said.

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

Ratchis, Kazrack, Martin, Roland, Gunthar and Dorn climbed the stairs down to the Central Tier and to the great gated tunnel that went east onto the Mountain Door. (3)   Ra’s Glory hung low behind them, a mere glimmer that cast long shadows that turned quickly round the corners of the white and gray little houses. 

A trio of armed dwarves approached them as they neared the gate.

“Leaving town, rune-thrower?” the center dwarf asked Kazrack.  He eyed the rest of the group, letting his vision linger on Roland first and then up at Ratchis.

“Yes, my companions and I are going to investigate the reports of undead in the cemetery above.”

“At the Council’s bidding?” the dwarf sounded confused.

“I was not aware that we needed their permission to do so,” Kazrack replied, sincerely.

“Well, sir, I am not really sure.  I will have to report this to the Captain, though.”

“We have nothing to hide.”

“But, you do understand that the outer gate is closed at sundown and is not re-opened until just before dawn,” the dwarf said solemnly.   “If you leave now you will not be able to return until morning.”

“We’ll be fine,” Kazrack replied, looking at his companions and nodding.

“Okay, I will let you through,” the dwarf said. “But I’ll need your names.   What do you call yourselves again?”

“The Keepers of the Gate,” said Ratchis.  The dwarven looked to Kazrack to confirm this. The rune-thrower nodded.

The gate was opened and they walked through two at a time into the huge dark tunnel.   As they marched Martin explained that he had found a spell that would help alert them to be scryed, but that he would need help acquiring the component.  After a quick discussion of cost and logistics, Kazrack agreed to make some the needed small brass horns (5) while doing his training and forging his armor.

They had emerged from the tunnel and were on their way up the partially enclosed stones steps carved into the cliff face when the heard the echoing clang of the black outer gate closing. 

Ratchis led the way out of the stairway and onto the marble plaza marled the entrance to the cemetery, and led to the open foyer of the monastery building.  A damp breeze cut through the barren trees that dotted the cemetery and roiled a light mist that obscured vision.  Marble headstones of different sizes and shapes dotted the green and brown hill that the cemetery was comprised of, with several tombs seemed to have been built into the side of the hill itself.  The monastery was built into a cleft in the hill, and a archway in the eastern wall that flanked the plaza led to a steep marble stairway that the party has climbed to get here when they first arrived from Gothanius. (4) 

Ratchis, Gunthar and Kazrack spread out into the cemetery. Ratchis went furthest in, signaling the others to stay back while he looked for signs of tracks.  Roland pulled his cloak closer around his shoulder, as the breeze was quite cold, and he stayed close to Martin, as the Watch-Mage entered the plaza and looked around.  Dorn stood between the two groups and loaded his crossbow.

Ratchis had just noticed fresh tracks heading both deeper into the cemetery and back towards the plaza, when he heard Gunthar call out. The half-orc jerked to his feet and looked where the Neergaardian warrior was pointing.  A dark crouched moved haphazardly from stone to stone, looking to nearly be pushing off them and grabbing on to them as it moved along, moaning softly.

“Looks like a zombie over here!” Gunthar said.

“Bast grant me your divine sight to divine the presence of evil,” Roland chanted, flicking his ruffled shirtsleeves and grabbing hold the gold ankh about his neck.  It was engraved with a cat’s eye.

“Well, is it evil?” Kazrack asked.

“I cannot tell.  It is too far away,” Roland replied.  “Let us get closer.”

The Bastite moved forward and Kazrack inched over to join him.  Gunthar looked confused at the hesitation, as he had already drawn both of his swords.  Martin began to walk over as well.

“Let us be careful we do not accidentally harm any of the village youths if they are hear,” Martin warned.

There was the sudden sound of movement in some bushes on the far side of the closest tomb as several humanoid figures burst from there.  They were tattered clothing, and had slavering jaws with fanged teeth.  Their skin had sallow look to it, and their eyes were swollen and rheumy. 

“Something fresh,” one of them hissed.  They moved with hungry speed, spreading out in twos towards each of the three adventurers in the forefront.

“Ghouls!” Ratchis cursed.

Gunthar ignored them and took the opportunity to hustle over to the first figure.

“Dorn!  Watch our rear flank!” Ratchis barked commands in battle as he often did, drawing his masterwork greatsword from his back. “Gunthar!  Get back here!”

“Natan-ahb! Judge these creatures and have them flee from your wrath!” the dwarf called to his god, grabbing hold of the pouch of runestones about his neck.  A wave of positive energy washed out from him in all directions and the six closest ghouls shrieked as they collapsed into dust, leaving just a pile of musty clothing in their place.

“Ha! Ha!” Gunthar cheered, still moving to catch up to the stumbling figure. “Stumpy sure showed them where it’s at!”

Dorn and Roland heard a sound behind them and spun around.  A squat and broad dwarf-like figure was charging across the plaza from the rear archway towards Dorn.  It seemed to be covered in black carapace that reached back over its head and down it back, connecting to its arms with a wing-like membrane. Its eyes glowed a bright red, and held warhammer before it, punching out at the warrior as it arrived at him. 

*End of Session #69*

--------------------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	The Realm of Shadow is another name for oft-misnamed ethereal plane.

(2)	Dwarven culture does not consider pearls to be precious gems.

(3)	“The Mountain Door” is the main road leading from the southeastern coast of Derome-Delem into its mountainous inner lands.    

(4)	See session #67

(5) *DM’s Note:* The spell in question was _Detect Scrying_.


----------



## handforged

Hooray for the Keepers of the Gate!!!


----------



## Manzanita

Cool update.  Looks like maybe they'll dump Gunthar soon.  He's such a jerk, but I must admit, he cracks me up!


----------



## Dawn

How come everyone enters a cemetery at night?  Always happens in the movies and now the Keepers are doing it.

Thanks for the update!


----------



## mofos21

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Cool update.  Looks like maybe they'll dump Gunthar soon.  He's such a jerk, but I must admit, he cracks me up!



Really?  What makes you say that?  

Gunthar can be a jerk and quite vile at times, but he does know a bit about honor.  He continues to aid the party even though he had already fulfilled his part of the bargin that he made with the party (and even though the party refused to honor their end of the bargin with Gunthar).  He might not be the most pleasant person to be around, but he has shown he is trustworthy.


----------



## monboesen

Because most most people don't really like being verbally abused all the time. I certainly would not hang around with a guy like that.

Pay him his share and dumb him or give him the choise of behaving civily or leaving.


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## Dherys Thal

*Daphne and Lydia*

Am I the only one who thinks that Daphne may well be Lydia herself?


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## mofos21

monboesen said:
			
		

> Because most most people don't really like being verbally abused all the time. I certainly would not hang around with a guy like that.
> 
> Pay him his share and dumb him or give him the choise of behaving civily or leaving.



I agree wth your first statement.  Most people wouldn't like that or want to be around it.  

On the other hand, the KotG have enemies all around and very few people whom they can fully trust (if they can trust them at all).  So, they really don't have much room to be so picky about who their friends are.  Especially when that friend is one who has showen that they can be trusted.


----------



## handforged

I see Gunthar as an interesting challenge for the group.  They have wronged him, and have to figure out a way to deal with it.  Could it even be worth XP?  Admittedly, they may have already paid him in full by dealing with his insults without attacking him.

I hadn't thought of Daphne=Lydia, but it makes a certain amount of sense.  I guess we'll have to wait and see, because I doubt that mmen is going to tell us ahead of time.

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

Dherys Thal said:
			
		

> Am I the only one who thinks that Daphne may well be Lydia herself?




Interesting hypothesis.

And to think I thought I made something _else_ obvious. . .

Not that Daphne is Lydia. . . uh-uh. . . no way. . .


----------



## Dawn

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Interesting hypothesis.
> 
> And to think I thought I made something _else_ obvious. . .
> 
> Not that Daphne is Lydia. . . uh-uh. . . no way. . .




Hmm.  I was thinking the same thing.  Got go back reread some sections.


----------



## mmu1

mofos21 said:
			
		

> I agree wth your first statement.  Most people wouldn't like that or want to be around it.
> 
> On the other hand, the KotG have enemies all around and very few people whom they can fully trust (if they can trust them at all).  So, they really don't have much room to be so picky about who their friends are.  Especially when that friend is one who has showen that they can be trusted.




The big problem with Gunther is that no one will ever do anything about him (and if someone tries, the other party members will pull you apart...) - short of telling him to take a hike, which won't happen unless he does something much worse than his constant stream of abuse - and he knows it, and takes advantage of it. Good really is stupid sometimes.


----------



## el-remmen

handforged said:
			
		

> I see Gunthar as an interesting challenge for the group.  They have wronged him, and have to figure out a way to deal with it.  Could it even be worth XP?  Admittedly, they may have already paid him in full by dealing with his insults without attacking him.
> ~hf




Originally, Gunthar was mostly supposed to be a challenge for Jeremy's player to deal with - the brother he never knew he had who was crass and a bit shady, but loyal and now a part of his family that was going through hard times ever since he allowed them believe he was dead.

But once Jeremy died and we lost a couple of our players I needed an NPC to accompany the party until we filled the gaps in our group, so Gunthar became a way to fill that gap and to challenge the whole party.


----------



## Ratchis

Ratchis has a hard time dealing with Gunthur because of his goddess and his own lack of confidence in how he deals with people (which is often a real problem with his 9 charisma), and since Gunthur HAS risked his life for us, Ratchis has a soft spot for the jerk when push comes to shove.

Also, when you are on a mission to save the world it is hard to throw away useful allies even when they are completely obnoxious.

As a player, he is fun to have around.


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## Scider

Actually, the description of Visalyia screamed 'DISGUISE KIT' to me...my first thought was that she was Daphne.

And...erm...bump and all that.

So long without an update, and you made me come all the way out of my lurker-hole to say something about it...grmbl grmbl...


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## el-remmen

Scider said:
			
		

> Actually, the description of Visalyia screamed 'DISGUISE KIT' to me...my first thought was that she was Daphne.




Wait. . . you think Visalyia was _Dapnhe_?   


Oh, and I am about four pages into the next installment. . .


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## Scider

Oops!
Sorry, I meant Lydia of course...

four pages and beyond coming up? Nicey-nice!


----------



## el-remmen

*part 1 (of 2)*

*Session #70*

Dorn nearly crumpled as he withdrew from the strange undead dwarf.

It looked up at the others, smiling with cracked yellow teeth, saliva strands breaking and popping to pour down its chin and beard, as it swung its hammer back and forth menacingly.

Roland growled and suddenly the top of his body seemed to unnaturally stretch forward. His head sunk into his shoulders as his mouth formed into a powerful feline snout, and his arms shortened up and thickened. The Bastite’s clothing, skin and armor burst out into thick black fur, and a tail sprouted out from his lower back and his legs also shortened and bent with powerful muscles rippling.  He roared and charged at the dwarf-thing, now in the form of a black panther.  

Roland grabbed hold of the dwarf-thing in his powerful jaws and knocked it over as he ripped at it with his claws.  He was able to bring his rear claws to bear as well, raking at it mercilessly.  The grappling due tumbled over and the thing was able to break free and attempt to hustle away.  Roland slowed it down with one last swat of his paw. 

Kazrack hurried over to help.

Meanwhile, Gunthar reached the figure stumbling behind the gravestones.  He gave it a kick before he could see clearly that it was a young man in black clothes and cloak. The young man groaned, and the Neergaardian yanked him up by his collar and smacked him with the back of his off-hand, which still held a short sword.  The kid grunted in pain, and seemed semi-conscious at best.

“Stop it!” Ratchis commanded Gunthar, beginning to run over, but as he noticed the fight against the undead dwarf-thing was moving further away and nearly through the archway out of the plaza, the half-orc hesitated.  

Roland and the dwarf were tangled again, blood flying out and streams from its many cuts and scratches as the Bastite struggled to get his jaws into a killing position about its thick neck.  The tumbled through the archway and the thing broke free as they fell to left down the steep stone steps in the alley created by the monastery and the cemetery wall.  Roland pounced at it again as it ran past another alley that turned behind the east wing of the monastery, and Kazrack hustled after them.  

Suddenly a small figure stepped out of the darkness of the alley and fired an arrow at the dwarf as he was only halfway down the steps.  The arrow pierced the dwarf’s inner thigh and punctured his codpiece.  He stumbled, but was able to keep his footing as he cried out in pain.

The small figure lingered in the shadow of the corner of the building.  Kazrack could see that it was a ghoulish little halfling with bare feet covered in wiry hair, and a swollen skull draped with nearly translucent skin and large milky eyes.  It wore armor that seemed to fit it like a second skin, in fact it looked like it was probably made of skin, and held a short bow in its hand, and a short sword was at its belt.

Clouds rolled across the moon.

“What’s going on?” Dorn cried out.  “I can’t see!”

Kazrack charged the rest of the way down the stairs, halberd out in front of him, but the little ghouls side-stepped deftly.

Martin made his way to the archway at the top of the stairs, as Gunthar ran over to join the fight, letting the young man drop to the ground with another grunt.  Dorn stood in the plaza, looking back and forth unsure of himself.

“Dorn, relay what it going on back to me,” Ratchis said, stepping over to the collapsed figure behind a tombstone and calling to his goddess to heal him.

“There is another thing down past the archway,” Dorn said, as Martin relayed the goings on to him from the top of the steps. 

“Are you okay?” Ratchis asked the young man. He could now see the lanky figure was probably not more than 15 summers old.  He had short tight curls on his head, and his green eyes were blood shot; a thin bit of stubble struggled against his acne to dominate his long face, which was covered in white powder to make him look pale.  The powder had come off in many places revealing his olive complexion below.  He reeked of ale.  

“Mommy?” the boy murmured, and then his eyes opened wide and he stood and stepped back and raised his hands above his head. “I mean… Raaaarrrgh!”

Ratchis rolled his eyes.  “Come on!”  He grabbed the boy by the scruff of the neck and began to drag him towards the plaza.

“What? No!  No!” the boy weakly protested.

Kazrack turned to engage the halfling ghoul, when another figure lurched out of the dark alley.  It was a zombie nearly seven feet tall, and wearing a black breast plate.  Kazrack spun back around and he barely got his halberd in the way to block the great sword swung down at him.  The dwarf’s arms trembled from the force of the blow, and the tip of the sword nicked his temple, sending blood down the side of his face.

“Aaargh!  There is another one!” Kazrack called to his companions.  The undead dwarf continued to struggle to break free of Roland, but the Bastite was strong and quick in panther form, and kept pulling it back in for more worrying.

The little ghoul turned behind Kazrack and stepped back to bring its bow to bear from a flanking position.  The dwarf spun around and slapped the bow with the head of his halberd hoping to snap it in half, but only managed to knock the arrow out of alignment so it missed.  The maneuver cost him however, as he felt the heavy blows of the warrior-zombie crunching into his armor from behind, nearly driving him to his knees.

“What’s going on down here?” Gunthar said, barreling down the stairs as the clouds rolled by providing some ambient light once again.  He spotted Roland in panther form for the first time.  “Who let the cat out of the bag?”

“What’s the matter with you?” Ratchis asked the kid as he dragged him along. “What is going on?”

“I’m so sorry,” the kid whined, tears smearing the white powder on his face even more.  

“Sounds like they need your help down there,” Martin said, as he hustled back to where Ratchis was dragging the young man past Dorn.  “You go, I’ll take care of this.”

“I am sorely wounded!  There are three of them!” Kazrack cried out, as if to emphasize the dire situation.

“Blast him out of existence if he gives you any trouble,” Ratchis said with a wink, pointing to the drunken youth. “Bring him to the archway, so we can make sure you are safe. Dorn, guard the rear.”

And with that the half-orc bolted through the archway and down the stairs. 

“Please don’t banish me!” the kid covered his face with his hands, and sat dejectedly on the stained white stone of the plaza.

“It’s okay, don’t worry,” Martin the Green reassured him.  “I’m a watch-mage.  I’m here to help.”

The dwarf-thing stopped moving, so Roland let go with his jaws and padded quickly over to Kazrack, moving into the space left open by the withdrawing halfling ghoul.  He licked the dwarf on the leg with his scratchy tongue, casting a spell to heal the dwarf. (1)

The Bastite snarled in surprise as the undead dwarf-thing was suddenly on its feet again, and sneaking past the melee to come around and slam its hammer into Kazrack’s side.

“Outta my way, Stumpy!” Gunthar came blundering into the shadowy alley, and Kazrack barely moved out of the way, but Gunthar’s swung wide. “I need light!”

Dorn lit a torch.  “Martin, I’m going down there.”

The watch-mage turned to the sandy-haired cohort to say something when Dorn let out an “uh-oh”.

The young lad leapt to his feet and began to run for it as soon as Martin turned.  The watch-mage reached into his _Bag of Tricks_ and threw a fuzzy ball that grew into a badger at the kid. 

“Trip him!” Martin commanded. The black and white animal charged into the man’s feet, but he was miraculously able to leap up and avoid the attack, and make his way to the steps down to the road that led to town.

Meanwhile, Roland howled, human pain coming through his panther mouth, as the zombie-warrior forced him back with twin telling blows, and then moved to parry a blow from Kazrack, after one got through, crunching armor.

Roaring, Ratchis came running into the fray with his brand new masterwork great sword over his head, but the violence of his own missing swing at the undead dwarf thing, tripped him up and he slammed against the right hand wall and had to duck from being slapped in the face with his own blade. (2)  

The dwarf-thing reached out to touch Ratchis with a black calloused hand, but the half-orc spun away and brought his sword between them.  This left it open to two blows from Gunthar’s sword.  It sputtered and fell, and dark red blood began to pool put beneath it.

Everyone was surprised by a snort, followed by the sound of hooves on the stone floor of the alley.  A large boar, snorting steam, with roiling red and black bristly fur, came charged out of the left hand hall, smashing into Gunthar.

“Ratchis, it’s your momma!” Gunthar swore.  Unfortunately for him, his swords were thrown wide and he felt the bite of the zombie-warrior’s great sword on his shoulder and chest.  Deep bruises swelled beneath the Neergaardian’s armor.

Ratchis spun around and with two hacks of his great sword the fiendish beast dropped to its stomach with a pitiful squeal and then disappeared in a flash of sulfurous smoke.

“Stay alert,” Ratchis warned.  “I think a wizard of some kind must have summoned that.”

Roland yelped as he bit the zombie-warrior, opening himself to a glancing blow from an arrow fired by the little ghoul.

A thrust from Kazrack’s halberd knocked the zombie-warrior down on his rear end.

The little ghoul continued to retreat down into the darkness of the alley, firing arrows into the fray. Gunthar winced as one clipped his waist and he moved in to try to finish the prone zombie-warrior, so he turned and charged up the alley, nearly blind.  A foul stench filled his nostrils and clung to his exposed skin and he could taste a mix of spicy beef stew and wine in the back of his throat.  The little ghoul flashed a ghastly smile that quickly died as Gunthar managed to bring his long sword down and crack the thing’s bow in half.

“Ha! Ha! Take that you little ball of sh*te!” Gunthar laughed, as the thing backed away a bit more.

“You command men and beasts?” the young man said with fear in his voice, turning back around to face Martin from the far side of the plaza before the monastery.  The badger circled menacingly.  “Are you the one who rules Wharvis?”

“Uh, yes!” Martin bluffed, wiping sweat from his brow. “And, uh… how dare you speak the name of Wharvis aloud? What do you know of him?”

The boy came walking back towards Martin.

“Uh…uh… Nothing, master!” The boy was crying again. “Just that he watches over the monastery while the monks are away…”

Martin the Green hesitated, trying to decide what tack to take next.

“Master! What would you have me do?” the kid asked, fear and sadness mixing in his voice.

“Yeah! Yeah! Tell him to do something! Good idea, Martin!  You’re so smart!” Thomas chattered in the watch-mage’s mind, from his hidden spot in the hood of Martin’s cloak.

“Follow me,” Martin said, trying to sound authoritative. 

“Do I have to keep pretending to be a zombie?” the young man asked.

“No.”

The zombie warrior scrambled awkwardly to his feet, decaying flesh seeming to crumble away from his joints. With two vicious slashes from his halberd to the legs, Kazrack sent it back down to the ground.

Dorn hurried around the corner to the left hand alley holding his sword in one hand and a torch in the other, coming to support Ratchis and Kazrack, but then cried out.

“I’m blind!  Something cast a spell on me!” he said.  “Watch out, if I sense anything near me I am going to swing at it.”

“I knew it!” Ratchis cried, slicing into the nacreous flesh of the zombie warrior on the ground.  “There must be a spell-caster of some kind down that alley!”

Roland bit at the zombie-warrior, wincing each time expecting to taste dead flesh, but the taste of live human blood was well known to him.  He was unable to communicate this to his companions.

The zombie-warrior lurched awkwardly to his feet, trying to use his weight to slash across Kazrack’s face, but it only managed to slap its face into Kazrack’s halberd blade.  The dwarf took advantage of the distraction and yanked his pole arm in and slashed low again.  Again, the zombie-warrior lost his footing and landed heavily.

“Die! Die! Die! Die!” Ratchis roared crazily, bringing his great sword down on the prone zombie-warrior again and again.  It stopped moving, and its appearance suddenly changed to that of a tall broad young man with an angular shaved head.  “Roland! Go help Gunthar!”

But Gunthar didn’t need help.  He shook off a cold feeling that tingled through his muscles when the little ghoul touched him, and thrust both his blades repeatedly into the thing, saying, “You wanna taste of this!  How about a taste of that?”

It dropped to the ground, changing into halfling lad in mottled green and white leather armor.

“And why were you pretending to be a zombie? Explain,” martin was commanding of the confused youth as he led him down the alley to where the fight had been happening.

“Buh… But, you don’t know about the plan?” the kid replied.

“You are trying my patience.  Explain!”

“Buh-Because if you act like a zombie everyone will be scared of you and the real zombies will leave you alone, and then you can earn the items of power,” the boy explained.

Kazrack knelt beside the former zombie and called to his gods to close his opponent’s wounds, so that he would not bleed out and allow him to be questioned.

“Anubis! _Askoday_!” a voice called from deep in the left hand alley, as Ratchis began to creep down it, whispering to Dorn that it was him.  The half-orc spotted a dark robed figure slip into a small door in the rear of the monastery, as a cloud of _obscuring mist_ filled the alley.

The zombie-warrior suddenly leapt back to its feet, appearing in its former undead guise once again and slammed Kazrack in the face with a fist.  The dwarf scrambled to get his halberd ready.

Roland, who had begun to go check on Gunthar who was gleefully sifting through the halfling’s things, turned around and bit the zombie on the lower leg and tried to pull it off its feet. 

“How did this thing get back up?” Ratchis asked, as he burst out of the mist and sliced it across the chest, making a painful looking dent in the thing’s breastplate.  Roland took advantage of the distraction and leapt on its back and began to rake it.  Kazrack shoved the head of his halberd into the thing’s lower belly.

The zombie slammed Kazrack once again, and the dwarf went down, coughing blood, and then it collapsed again. Once again, it transformed into a pale young man.  Roland noticed a long thin wooden bead carved too look like a haggard face that feel from the man’s face.  It had been affixed to the bridge of the man’s nose somehow.  The Bastite pushed it away with his nose.

“The mage got away,” Ratchis said, kneeling beside Kazrack to heal him.  “He slipped into the monastery.”

Martin walked over, with the other boy in tow.  He noticed that dwarf-thing now looked like a very dead, but not _un_dead dwarf.

“What is your name?” he asked the boy.   “Who told you about the plan?”

“I’m Eton,” the boy said meekly. “Wharvis recruited me.”

“We should go back to town and re-group,” Kazrack said groggily, conscious once again, but exhausted.

“We cannot get back into town until dawn,” Ratchis reminded him.

“The guard will let us in if we just explain what happened,” Kazrack reasoned.

“Look, I don’t know what the dwarves were like where you came from,” Ratchis began angrily. “But here, and everywhere else in your _homeland_ that I have been they are unyielding and rigid when it comes to rules and the law.  You need to get this through your thick dwarven skull.”

Kazrack frowned.

“Tell me everything, and start from the beginning,” Martin said to Eton.

The boy looked around nervously at the others.

“Who are you people?”

“We’re the friggin’ Fearless Manticore Killers,” Gunthar said, coming back to the others, and giving Roland a kick in the rump.  The Bastite snarled,  “Heh, I’ve heard a pussy make all kinds ot sounds, but never heard one snarl.”

Roland roared and it echoed through the silence of the cemetery. 

“Perhaps we should at least leave the cemetery and wait by the gate into the tunnel,” Martin suggested.  “Eton, you can tell us what you know as we go.  Oh, and we are the Keepers of the Gate.”

They gathered up the bodies and their gear and made their way to the steps that led down the cliff face.

Eton haltingly explained that he and some friends had taken to coming to the cemetery not long after the monks disappeared, where they and other town youths would drink and couples would meet.  After real undead began to appear, they were recruited by a wizard named Wharvis who claimed to be watching over the cemetery in the monks’ absence, and convinced them to dress as undead to scare off others and to be able to be mistaken as undead by the real ones at a distance.  Those who showed the most loyalty and did special “missions” for Wharvis were eventually granted items that gave them the appearance and powers of some undead.  He thought Wharvis was someone from town, but he was not sure whom it might be.

"Me and Tanya and Mortimer were waiting for Wharvis and the others to show up and we had a few shots from our flasks, when the ghouls showed up," Eton explained. "Our disguises didn't show up."

"What others?" Martin asked.

"Tipik. He was the halfling with the magic armor that gave him ghoul-powers, and there was Dolan and Tinar, who is a dwarf,” Eton explained.  “The last two had already been recruited by Wharvis when we met him.”

“We are going to have to turn you into the authorities,” Martin explained.

“No!”

“You should have thought of that before you started hanging out with ghouls,” Gunthar chided him.  “Some men will do anything for a ghoul-friend.”

Dorn and Martin groaned.  Roland, still in panther form, snarled his disapproval at the joke.

“Gunthar has a point, young man,” Kazrack said, angrily.  “Accept your judgment with dignity.”

“I don’t wanna! I don’t wanna!” Eton made to take back off up the stairs, but Ratchis shot him a glare, and the boy quieted it down, though tears were streaming down his face again.

They had a long wait before the gate would open in the morning.

----------------------------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	*DM’s Note:* Roland has the _Natural Spell_ feat, allowing him to cast spells while in panther form. 

(2) *DM’s Note:* Ratchis’ player rolled a natural ‘1’ and then confirmed it with another miss, but made his Reflex save against hitting himself for full damage.


----------



## Manzanita

An interesting update.  Lots of new stuff going on.  I'm sure it must relate somehow to all the old stuff that has gone on...


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## handforged

Well, let's see...

We met a suspicious necromancer in town.  There is a wizard who may or may not be from town 'watching' the cemetery.  There are real undead, and un-undead.  I think things may be related.

Nice twist mmen.

~hf


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## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> An interesting update.  Lots of new stuff going on.  I'm sure it must relate somehow to all the old stuff that has gone on...




Not everything is always related to everything else in a campaign.

And sometimes connections are so tenuous they are never discovered by PCs.

And sometimes some event in the past can have a series of otherwise unrelated consequences.


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## Scider

Sounds like one of my campaigns   

Great stuff, keep going and all that...


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## el-remmen

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Ya'll might be happy to know I started on the next installment yesterday and hope to have it up sometime next weekend. . .




Wow. 

It is taking me a lot longer to finish the installment than I thought it would (and it up near 12 pages long in word at this point). . . so hang in there. . . 

We are entering a period of transition, what with some players leaving and others joining the note taking became haphazard and some sessions there was just no note-taking at all and once or twice, few or no notes - so I am reconstructing this from my own notes and calendar - and from my admittedly amazing memory. . 

I will try to get it done before I leave on vacation on Thursday. . . but no promises. . .


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #70 (part (ii)*

Osilem, the 17th of Ter – 565 H.E.

The great clang of the tunnel gate rising into position as dawn arrived on the mountain pass echoed as the Keepers of the Gate made their way back into Nikar.  Etan dragged his feet as he walked, and complained that his head hurt and wanted a drink. 

The inner portcullis was still closed when the party arrived, so they approached a smaller gated door in the gate.  On the other side were two dwarven guards; one of which immediately took off when he saw the party approaching.

“We have a prisoner,” Kazrack explained to the guard, when the party was told they would not be allowed through until the captain of the guard arrived.  “He is involved in the goings-on in the cemetery.  We were coming to speak to the captain, and to the Council as well, if we could, as we have discovered some things that bare investigation.”

“Then you will not mind waiting,” the guard replied, and then realizing his rudeness to a rune-thrower, he added. “I’m sure you can understand the need to follow protocol, brother rune-thrower.”

Kazrack nodded.

“I have to warn you,” Ratchis growled to the party in a low voice, as they hung back to wait. “The captain of the guard does not like me very much, and he is likely to take anything I say in the worse possible light.”

They had to wait nearly an hour before the other guard returned with an older dwarf, Captain Marno Lodestone.  Lodestone had a curling beard, like tarnished steel, and cold blue eyes that stared from behind the shadow of his gray bushy eyebrows.  Despite beong obviously much older than Kazrack, his shoulders were as wide, but his furrowed and cracked brow showed his age the most.

“Send them through one at a time, starting with the dwarf,” the captain ordered his guards.  Ratchis noticed the captain’s eyes fell heavily on him. 

Kazrack spied the dwarven captain’s fine suit of chainmail, and cruel-looking hammer at his side.  The older dwarf chewed on his lower lip.

“You’re Delver, right?” 

“Yes, sir,” Kazrack replied.

“I understand you went up to the Garden of Stones to stir things up?”

“No, sir… I mean, yes, sir… I mean, we went up there, but not to stir things up, but to investigate the disturbances we had heard of,” Kazrack tried to explain.

“Without the leave of the Council,” Kazrack was not sure if this was a question or a statement.

“Um…”

“Do you often do whatever you like in the lawful jurisdiction of a recognized ruling body?” the Captain asked.

“We didn’t realize we needed to ask permission,” Kazrack replied.

The Captain grunted his disapproval.

“We have been spending a lot of time in the wilderness, and before that as contracted helpers for the king of Gothanius, so in both places we have taken a lot initiative.  I apologize if the law required us to alert the Council first.”

The Captain grunted again.

“We did discover some strange things going on and there seems to be some wizard manipulating the youth of this town,” Kazrack continued.  “It would be prudent for the Council to investigate.  We captured one of the youths.  It seems they are being encouraged to take the guise of undead.  And we have collected some dubious items that might aid this…”

“You can rest assured that the Council _will_ investigate this, and that we are already looking into the allegations and dealing with them in appropriate manner without interfering adventurers, especially a group led by a rapist pig-f*cker that no one wanted back here,” Lodestone spat. (1)

“Captain, I mean no disrespect, but I do not appreciate you characterizing my companion, D’nar, as I call him, like that,” Kazrack said.  “Despite his blood, he is a good person dedicated to what is right.”

Marno Lodestone spat.

“Who you choose for friends, however unwise, is your own business. What you do in my town is mine,” He turned to one of the dwarven guards. “Send the watch-mage through next, and grab their _prisoner_ while you are at it.”

One by one the members of the Keepers of the Gate were brought through the gate, as the Captain looked each one of them up and down and asked their names, though he seemed to already know them all.   The guards held the whimpering Eton between them.  More guards, among them two humans, came out of the guardhouse and collected the corpses from out in the tunnel.

Martin passed over the magical items they had collected from the psuedo-undead.

“Be ready to make yourselves available to the Council for an inquiry,” Lodestone said to them.  “And any other trouble you get yourselves into will not be taken lightly. That goes double for those of you with records.”

Ratchis stared at the dwarven captain defiantly. 

“And get those damn weapon peace-knotted,” the captain added and dismissed them.  

Nikar was just beginning to awaken as the party went their separate ways. Ratchis made his way to Mercy’s house, while Roland and Kazrack returned to their respective temples.  Martin, Dorn and Gunthar went to their suite at the inn.  The first to study some new spells and prepare for training, while the other two just wanted to sleep.


Tholem, the 18th of Ter – 565 H.E.

The next day Dorn and Martin found Gunthar had not returned the night before. 

“Probably with that gnome girl,” Dorn said with a wink to the watch-mage.  Martin frowned.  

They headed down to the common room to get a morning meal.  They had barely reached the bottom of the stairs, when Martin remembered a book he had wanted to peruse over breakfast in preparation for the beginning of his studies with Vaysalia.  He asked Dorn to order something for him and he hurried back upstairs to retrieve the book.  As he came around the corner, he spotted Gunthar coming out of the suite room, closing the door carefully behind him.

“What are you doing?” Martin asked.

Gunthar leapt, startled. He spun around.  “Don’t sneak up on a guy!”

“Where have you been?” Martin asked. “What were you doing in the room?  You weren’t here afew minutes ago.  Where did you come from?”  

The watch-mage looked up and down the narrow hall.  At the far end it turned to the left, and there was a window on both ends, and five other doors, one of which he knew led to the only other set of suite rooms in the Inn of Friendly Flame.

“I uh… started opening the door when I realized you guys might still be sleeping, so I closed it back quietly to not wake you, deciding to get some friggin’ breakfast,” Gunthar said, his voice gaining confidence as each word came out.  “What are you, me dad?  If so, let me know I have an overdue appointment with yer Ma.”

“You are so foul,” Martin sneered, going past the Neergaardian to enter the suite. “Anyway, Dorn and I are having breakfast below. I am just going to get a book.  You can join us if you like.”

Gunthar turned towards the stairs.

Martin closed the door behind him and looked around. He was certain something was different.  He stepped into the rear bedroom and immediately noticed that his bed, which had been immaculately made not too long before was now slightly ruffled.

He walked over and knelt beside the bed and lifted the cover.  Beneath, beside his spare set of boots, were three black metal vases with hinged metal covers sealed with wax.  

Martin dragged one out.  It was heavy.   He broke the wax with his dagger and then pried it open with the blade.  Martin’s eyes opened wide. Within, the vase was a black shiny mineral-like powder.  There was a faint smell of magnesium to it.  Closing the vase back up, he hefted it and brought it over to Gunthar’s bed, and he slid it beneath.  He did the same with the other two.

A few moments later, Martin the Green came down to see two dwarven town guards had just come into the common room from the outside.  They walked over to talk with Huggert.

Dorn was sitting alone.

“Where’s Gunthar?” Martin asked.

“I don’t know I haven’t seen him,” Dorn shrugged.

“Martin the Green?” the two dwarven guards had walked over to their table.

“Yes?”

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

Ratchis and Mercy were eating lunch at her house when suddenly Gunthar came banging at the door.

“Let me in!  Let me in!”

“It’s open,” Mercy said, rolling her eyes and then winking at Ratchis.

The Neergaardian warrior came in hurriedly and slammed the door behind him and slipped the bolt.

“You gotta hide me!  I want sanctuary,” Gunthar demanded, his eyes darting around for a place to hide.

“What have you done now?’ Ratchis asked casually.

“I ain’t done nothing,” Gunthar swore.  “All I know is I was stopping back by the inn to get some more coin, and as I entered the common room I heard some town guards asking about me, and where I might be.  The damn bartender pointed right at me, but I think I ducked out before they got a good look.”

“You led them here?” Anger crept into Mercy’s voice.  She walked over to the window and looked out from behind the curtain.  At that same moment, there was a knock on the door.

“I’ll take care of this,” Ratchis said, opening the door.  There stood two dwarven town guards in chain mail, holding halberds at their side.

“You are the half-blood, Ratchis of Nephthys?” one of the guards asked.

“Yes.”

“You are summoned before the Ruling Council of Nikar.  You are to come immediately,” the guard continued.  “If any of your other companions are here with you, they are summoned as well.”

Ratchis looked back inside to see Gunthar peeking out from behind Mercy, where he was crouched.

“Gunthar, you’re an idiot,” Ratchis barked. “Come on.”

Gunthar stood and came out, “Oh, yeah, I forgot about that.”

The half-orc and the Neergaardian followed the two guards to the Council Hall. 

As they came past the four marble columns, into the tiled lobby of the building, they noticed that Dorn and Martin were being escorted in as well.  They were led through a set of large oaken doors carved with a stylistic rendition of the town’s charter.  Beyond was a round theatre-like chamber.  Upon a dais was a long and high table, behind which sat eight figures.  Several rows of tiered seating faced the dais, at the front Roland and Kazrack already sat. 

Narrow windows at the ceiling sent wedge-shaped beams of light across the room, illuminating it.  The whole place was dressed with marble and white tapestries.  A burgundy flag hung above the dais.  It showed the sigil of Nikar, a stylized silver icon of a fortified town upon a mountain.

Captain Marno Lodestone stood at the bottom of the stairs to the dais and called up as they approached down the aisle. “Come and take some seats in the front!”

The Captain walked up onto the dais and took the last empty seat, near the right side.

“Welcome to this special session of the Nikar Ruling Council on all Lawful Matters,” said a tall man with a sallow look and yellowed skin.  He had scrubby graying hair, and long fingers with swollen joints.  He opened his mouth widely when he talked, enunciating every word very slowly.  “This session was called by Council Member Marno Lodestone.  Which other two did affirm his request?” (2)

“I have,” said a woman in a high-collared long-sleeved lavender dress.  She wore a veil of purple silk over her face.  She sat near the center of the table.

“As have I,” said a brown-haired dwarf with a cropped beard that made Kazrack uncomfortable to look at.  He had a weathered face and narrow eyes.  He had a burn scar where his right eyebrow should have been.

“Let the record show that honored council members Coral Humilia and Grad Almondach have seconded the opening of this special session,” the tall thin man said.  “Now, Councilor Lodestone, will you re-acquaint us with the matter at hand.”

“This group, alternately calling themselves ‘the Fearless Manticore Killers’ and the ‘Keepers of the Gate’,” the Captain began.  “Have admitted to entering the Garden of Stones and attacking young townspeople, who while misdirected in their actions would have been better served to have been brought in by the lawful authority to pay for any crimes they might have been committing.”

 “So you are accusing them of doing what you and our own town guard should have been doing?” said a woman with her black hair in two thick braids on either side of her head, and several smaller beaded braids in the middle.  She had bronze skin and large brown eyes.  She wore a shoulder-less white dress decorated with golden buttons that matched the fancy golden comb in her hair.  She wore a silver ankh about her neck, it was etched with a quarter moon.  

“Councilor Lydia,” A the chubby figure in green robes at the right end of the table began.  He was bald except for tufts of black hair behind each ear, and a well-kept goatee. His face was flush, though he smiled when he spoke.  It was Mylor. (3)  “You know very well that you have done your best to block Councilor Lodestone every time he has petitioned the council to set up a permanent guard in the cemetery while the monks of Anubis are absent.”

“Some things are the jurisdiction of a church, not this council,” Lydia replied.

The tall thin man hammered his gavel down.

“We are here to get to the bottom of the events of the night previous,” the man, who’s name was Yeeger Salamander, a local merchant that owned a controlling interest in the town salt mine, said. “Any other items need to be added to the regular agenda by the normal means.  Now…”

He paused.

 A cleanly dressed young man in a gray jacket and a black bowtie, wearing spectacles entered the room and climbed up to the dais, putting some papers down in front of Yeeger.  Martin recognized him as the man he had seen lurking around outside of Daphne’s house.  

As if she could read his mind, Daphne entered the chambers and sat on the other side of the aisle from the party with some people Martin could only assume were the rest of the Council’s staff.

Councilor Salamander looked up from reading the papers.  “Yes, well… We will ask that you accompany my aide to a waiting room and we will see you one at a time. Roland of Bast, you may stay as we will question you first.” 

One by one the members of the party were questioned by the Council; after each of them were done they were led to a different room from where the others were waiting to be questioned.

“Roland, my dear, how ever did you get involved with this rag-tag band of questionable origins?” the woman in behind the veil, Coral Humilia asked, familiarly.

“I met the half-orc, Ratchis through Mercy of Nephthys,” Roland replied.

“Oh, _Mercy_,” Coral said, scathingly. 

“Mercy is a lovely girl, definitely her parents’ child, I would take her vouchsafe on these fellows,” Lydia said, smiling. 

“Hmph,” Lodestone cleared his throat and looked at Roland, frowning. “And why would you take part in so-called ‘adventuring’ activities when as a resident you know the restrictions on those kinds of things without the approval of the Council.  I am sure you are aware of the town’s history?”

“Yes, Captain Lodestone, I am aware of what happened,” (4) Roland said, allowing just the slightest bit of annoyance to creep into his otherwise polite tone. “But it is not what it seems.  My new companions lost one of their number on the journey here; a paladin dedicated to Anubis.  And they felt they owed it to his memory to check out the cemetery and make sure it was not being desecrated. We were only going to look around when we were attacked.”

“Only going to look around?  All fully armed and armored?” Lodestone asked.

“It is a dangerous world, Captain,” Roland replied smugly.

“Know one knows it better than I do,” the Captain said, gruffly.

They then asked Roland to retell the events in the cemetery in his own words and then he was excused.  Kazrack was called in next.

Asked to tell of the event of two nights ago, Kazrack began with an anecdote from his childhood and then began to explain the series of events that led him to return to Derome-Delem.  He had gotten as far as the death of Malcolm when he was interrupted.

“Is there a point to this?” asked Councilor Almondach, the hill dwarf.

“Excuse me, sir, I just wanted to make sure you understood all the circumstances that led to my companions and I arriving at the cemetery the night before last.  Surely, only with a full set of facts can any decision be reached,” Kazrack said.

“Anyway, I most indeedly did like that story very much!  Oh yes, the goblin witch-doctor, very scary!” the gnome sitting beside Lydia said.  He had wispy golden hair, and skin like rich black earth, with a prodigious nose that held spectacles of very thick glass.  He wore a green coat and a yellow shirt, and his soft maroon boots were up on the table, as he leaned back in his chair. But now he leaned back forward and pointed at Kazrack. “But carry on, what about this Crumb fellow?  He seems like rather a shady fellow.”

“As entertaining and informative as this is, I think we are going to have insist that master Kazrack skip ahead to the events in question. We all have busy schedules that we had to put aside for this meeting,” Mylor said with affected exhaustion in his voice.

“Yes, I think it suffice to ask about your companion…” Lydia looked down at her notes. “Beorth?  Yes, that is it.  And what he has to do with what happened the other night.”

“He had nothing to do with it,” Kazrack said. “He was lost on the journey here from Gothanius, but if he had been with us he might have given us better instruction on how to handle the situation, the undead being his area of expertise… destroying them, not commanding them or creating them or anything like that…”

“Is it safe to say that if Beorth were still with you he would have known more about local laws and this type of thing, being a paladin?” Lydia asked.

“What does that have to do with anything?” asked Lodestone.

“Obviously, this group was used to relying on their former companion for direction in terms of obeying the law, or I should say the regulations of our multi-racial charter, as I would not presume to tell you honorable rune-thrower about dwarven law,” Lydia motioned to Kazrack.  The dwarf stood and bowed awkwardly.  “In the grief and confusion of losing him, they cannot be expected to follow the letter of a law they were probably never properly informed of by your bullying guards.  And in the end, what harm have they done?”

“This is no time to impugn the integrity of the townguard, Councilor Lydia,” said the halfling sitting at the far left of the table.  He smoked a pipe, and had long brown curly locks that he had to brush out of his eyes repeatedly.  He was very very fat, and his name was Reed Flapcorn. “Though I have to agree with you that along with the testimony of that Eton boy, this is much ado about nothing, and I have a batch of my brew just a day away from perfect maturation, I should be tasting it by the hour, not here with your usual crusade against adventurers.” 

“So, Master Kazrack, what is your answer?” Lydia asked.

“Um, I am not sure what the question is, ma’am,” Kazrack replied, confusedly.

“Would you have investigated the cemetery if not for your former companion, Beorth?”

“I never thought twice about human cemeteries or monks of Anubis or any of that before I met Beorth.”

“I am satisfied with his testimony,” Lydia said.

“But he hasn’t said anything yet,” complained Captain Lodestone.

“I think between what he has said and the fact that High Priest Bedkorak spoke up for him is enough for us,” said Lydia.

“I agree,” said the other dwarf.

Lodestone sighed, and then excused Kazrack.

“Oh, and come down to Fizzlepop’s some night and you can finish your story, I’ll buy you an ale or twelve,” the gnome called to Kazrack as the dwarf left. “Just ask around for me, I’m Tromaglerhammergleengloventart, also known as the Mayor of the Gnomish Quarter.”

“That title has no meaning by the by-laws and charter of Nikar,” added Yeeger in his flat voice.

Dorn was questioned next and after him came Martin the Green.

“First, Martin, I would like to say I am glad to finally meet you, though these are not the ideal circumstances. I am sure we will have a time to talk when this is all over,” Lydia said with a bright smile.  Daphne waved at Martin as she came up beside the priestess to take away from papers that had just been signed.

“I am sorry if our ignorance led us to violate any local statutes,” Martin replied.  “But regardless of the circumstances, it is always a pleasure to meet a lady of the cloth of Isis.”

“Were you acting on the orders of the Academy of Wizardry, which I assume you represent, when you came to Nikar to investigate the cemetery?” the Captain was right down to business.

“Well, I do in a way represent the Academy in terms of my actions; thus I always seek to act ethically, but in terms any specific reason that I am in Nikar, or that my companions and I went to investigate the undead sightings in the Garden of Stones has no direct connection to the Academy.”

“And why did you come to Nikar?” asked the extremely gaunt elf sitting to the left of Mylor..  The elf’s hair was a long bluish-black tied back, and his skin had an alabaster sheen to it. He had long sharp features without a crease or wrinkle that still seemed to suggest a great age. He had big green eyes.  It was Sherinian Felestas, who Martin had met a few days before and had done business with. (5)

“I came specifically to seek training and lore that would help in my larger mission,” Martin replied. “As did the rest of my companions.”

“As did the one called Gunthar Northrop?” asked the golden-haired gnome.

“Um, yes… I believe he was also, uh… especially looking forward to some rest and relaxation,” Martin smiled weakly, but the gnome returned a broad smile, and twisted the ends of his mustache.

“Martin, would you characterize the items you found on these false undead to be evil item?” Lydia asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Martin replied.  “The people who wielded them appeared as undead while using them and displayed powers characteristically that of undead.”

“Do you remember whose idea it was first to go to the cemetery?” Lodestone asked.

“Um… we kind of came to the idea as a group,” Martin said.  “Though I read the news here in the Council Hall about the undead, and it was Roland that informed us about the youth spending their nights in the cemetery.”

“And how did he find out?” Mylor asked.

“I do not know,” Martin said.  “But I assumed it was merely rumors about town.”

“Do you often take actions based on rumors heard in town without affirming them with the just authority of the town you reside in?” Captain Lodestone asked angrily.

“It was an error in judgment,” Martin replied.  

“You met with Councilor Mylor several days ago, did you not?”  asked Sherinian Felestas.

“Uh, yes… briefly…”

“Why did you not confer with him then about this plan of yours?” the elf continued.

“I did not know then that the group wanted to go look into it.”

“So it _was_ someone else’s idea?”  asked Captain Lodestone.  “Perhaps the half-orc’s?”

“No more his idea than anyone else’s,” replied Martin.

“What, may I ask, is your central mission?  I assume it is at the behest of the Academy?” asked Mylor, sitting up straight and smoothing his green and yellow silk robes.

“Well, it was because of what I was doing at the behest of the Academy that I got involved in what my companions and I are trying to fix,” Martin said, cryptically.

“And that is?”

“I cannot divulge that, for reasons that should be clear.  It is dangerous for me and for others for too many people to know, and certainly not as part of a public record.” 

“Yes…”

“How convenient,” said Lodestone.

“Martin, did you get to examine the items you and your companions retrieved from the slain?” Lydia asked, her tone was never less than friendly, and at times become almost motherly.

“Only cursorily,” Martin replied.  “They seem to be of evil make though and have necromantic and transmutative energies bound to them.”

“Yes, they do.  Mylor and I both independently verified that,” she shot the necromancer a disapproving look.  “So now I must ask you straight out, what do you think is happening?”

“Well, I have been thinking it over as I have been waiting, and I really cannot make much sense of it,” Martin began.  “If someone wanted to take advantage of the monks absence to rob graves or even the monastery itself why create undead and draw undue attention?  And why attract youths there to recruit?  Except perhaps to make more undead, but it still not clear if the ghouls Kazrack destroyed upon entering the cemetery were working for this Wharvis person, for they did seem to be after Eton. Speaking of Eton, what did he say?”

“That is not part of the public record of yet,” Lodestone answered abruptly.

Lydia sighed, “The misdirected young man did not give much in the way of useful testimony.  It seems he was inebriated during most of his meetings with Wharvis.”

“But what about the monks?” asked Tromaglerhammergleengloventart.  “The ones your companion, Gunthar claimed to have seen.”

“You’ve spoken to Gunthar?” asked Martin, confused because he knew Gunthar still waited to be questioned.

“Huh?” the so-called Mayor of the Gnomish Quarter coughed and looked around nervously. “No.  The sighting of the monks by Gunthar was mentioned by Roland of Bast.”

“There has been no word of monks coming through the east gate,” the Captain said.  “I think the monks are a ruse.”

“They could have come up through the south gate by way of the western road,” Reed Flapcorn offered.

“Gunthar did say they were leaving that way,” Martin added.

“What do you plan to do about this Wharvis next?” Lydia asked.

“Honestly, now that the Council is taking an active interest in this, I would rather concentrate on my studies, and do not plan to pursue it unless, of course, the Council needed my aid in some way,” Martin replied.

“And your companions?  Do they plan to do the same?” Captain Lodestone asked, accusingly.

“I believe they would,” Martin said.  “Our hearts are all heavy with the tasks before us that just may claim our lives.  We have much preparation to do… But again, we will help if help is needed.”

“Thank you, Martin.  It may come to that, but we shall see,” replied Lydia.  “Though I would like to help you with your tasks, if I can. After these proceedings, wait until after and we will talk.”

Mylor sneered.

Gunthar was sent for after Martin was shown out to the other waiting area, and finally it was Ratchis’ turn.

“It makes my heart heavy to have to see you again under these circumstances,” Lydia said to the half-orc. “Perhaps it is too soon for you to be back?”

“Some folk don’t know when to stay gone when they got the chance to be gone,” Captain Lodestone spat.

“Common beasts know no better, their noses lead them back to where they were fed.” Mylor held a kerchief to his face.

Yeeger hammered his gave down twice.  “Ratchis Orc-blood was exonerated of his previous charges and there was no official exile.  The unfortunate events of the past have no bearing on this case.”

“Or do they?” Lodestone stood, suddenly very angry.  “Perhaps this orc-blood can tell us what he knows of Mortimor Karlton?”

“Who?” asked Ratchis, though there was something about the name. 

“Oh, so you claim to not know who that is?” Lodestone asked.

“I don’t know.  I’m not sure.  Could it have been someone I worked with at the mine?”

“You know very well that it wasn’t,” Lodestone replied.  “Mortimor Karlton is the nephew of Bevis Karlton.” (6)

“Oh.”  Ratchis was quiet for a long moment.  “Has something happened to Mortimor?”

“So, you do know him?” Reed, the halfling asked.

“No, but I assume something must have happened or the Captain would not be looking at me as if I had killed someone.”

”You did kill someone,” Mylor said.  “At least three someones, and you took their things and brought it to us; that is why we are here.”

“Mortimor is among the missing young people of the town,” Lydia said. “There were two before, and now Mortimor and Tanya who were with Eton in the cemetery the night you found him there.”

“You think I went to the cemetery because I knew Mortimor was there?” Ratchis asked incredulously. “And that I brought my party with me, the ranks of which include a watch-mage and a dwarven priest, to go get revenge on someone through their nephew?”

“We do not all think so,” Lydia replied.

“And it does not seem very likely… No, No, No it doesn’t. Uh-uh.” Said the gnome councilor, rubbing the end of his nose with a calloused finger, as he shook his head back and forth.

“As much as I detest his beastly kind, it does seem far-fetched,” Mylor said, the sound of disgust never leaving his haughty voice.  “I think we have wasted enough time here.”

“Ratchis, you may join your companions and then you will all be called back in for our decision,” Lydia said, with a smile.

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

It was less and a half hour later when they were all called back.  They spent the time discussing what they had been asked, and what they had said, except for Gunthar who was unusually quiet.
They stood before the dais.

“Keepers of the Gate,” Yeeger began, slapping his gavel on the table once half-heartedly. “We have discussed the issue at hand and have come to the following conclusion.  Councilor Lydia, if you will.”

“We have decided not to hold you on any of these deaths, in light of your returning the cursed items and the corpses, and of course cooperating with this inquiry,” Lydia said, smiling.  “However, we are going to have to officially ask that you do not continue your own independent inquiry into the goings on in the cemetery, and that you avoid any and all so-called ‘adventuring’ activities in the area of Nikar, or using this town as a base.  If we need your help, or need you for further questioning we will contact you.”

“But please let me remind you that you will be watched and you will be held responsible for any and all damages done to the town or its populace that happens while others seek retaliation or revenge upon you,” Captain Lodestone added in his gravely voice.

“Any questions?” Yeeger Salamander asked.

The party had no response.

“Very well, then, you are free to go,” Yeeger said.

The Council began to disperse.   

“I’m going ta have a friggin’ drink,” Gunthar said.

“Good idea,” said Roland, following him out.

“I must return to the temple.  I have duties tonight,” Kazrack said.

Lydia came around the table and off the dais and approached Martin and Ratchis.  Dorn hung back.

“Martin, I am so sorry that we were so delayed in meeting,” Lydia said, putting her hand out daintily.   Martin shook it.  “Please come by my house tomorrow for lunch and we will discuss how I can help you.  I have ever been a friend of the Academy of Wizardry, and I know Alexandra the Lavender well.”

“Thank you,” Martin said.

“Lady Lydia, I was hoping I might speak to you a moment alone,” Ratchis asked, trying to sound as gentle as possible.  The priestess of Isis was taken aback and momentarily frowned.  Ratchis could not tell if it was surprise or disgust.  He looked over at Martin, who excused himself.

Lydia shifted uncomfortably, and looked at Ratchis and then down at the floor.

“Uh, I was wondering if you knew what ever happened to Madaline,” Ratchis asked meekly.  “I mean, is she still in town.”

Lydia looked up at Ratchis with pity in her brown eyes.  “Do you not think that some thing are best left alone?  She left long ago, and I do not know where, but her husband, he is still around somewhere.” 

Ratchis looked down dejectedly, and left.

*End of Session #70*

-----------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1) See the Story of Ratchis.

(2) The Ruling Council of Nikar requires at least two of the remaining eight members to affirm the call  for a special session for the group to actually meet.

(3) See Session #68

(4) In 558 H.E. a feud between rival powerful adventuring parties in the central tier led to the death of several townsfolk and structural damage to several buildings.

(5) See Session #68

(6) Bevis Karlton was the man who’s wife accused Ratchis of raping her to hide the fact of their affair. (See the Story of Ratchis)


----------



## el-remmen

For those who might be interested, since a lot of NPCs have been introduced lately, I updated the "_Cast of Characters_" in the Portal Thread.

You can view it here: http://www.enworld.org/showpost.php?p=1937436&postcount=10  - Up to date thru Session #70.

It is actually a great resource.  I am amazed that none of my players has taken the initiative of printing it out so they can look up names when I ring them off, intead of giving me that blank look and then whispering among themselves, "Who is that, again?"


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## Manzanita

wow.  that was cool.  This town has been well-developed.  Was it in other Aquerra campaigns?  I'd of thought you'd not even have known the FMK (or KotG) would even come here.  Looks like they're all in trouble, though I suspect Gunthar won't be leaving the city with them...


----------



## Manzanita

Hey - I have another question.  I believe last time I looked at Martin, he had a feat entitled 'Academy Graduate' or something.  I understand why he has this, but what is its technical description?


----------



## mofos21

Here you go, Manzanita:

*Feat:*
*Academy Alumnus* [general]
Gain the benefits (and responsibilities) of being a graduate of the Academy of Wizardry.

Pre-requisites: Wizard, Any good, neutral or lawful neutral in alignment, Starting character, Int: 13, Cha: 11

Benefit: +1 competence bonus to diplomacy and spellcraft checks. Gain the starting spells associated with the Academy curriculum (based on school specialization). 

Special: Being an alumnus of the Academy of Wizardy also has other benefits (access to training, network of like-minded mages, respect of the title, resources of the Academy itself if they ever get back to it) and responsibilities (granting sanctuary, required minimum of two years of service and having their actions scrutinized by the Academy itself).


----------



## el-remmen

mofos21 said:
			
		

> Here you go, Manzanita:




Thanks, Jesse!   

That being said, however, in the future, I would get rid of the feat and just have the background be something discussed btwn player and DM and the appropriate skills/feats would be taken to match the organization, and work towards a higher level Watch-mage prestige class (like Alexandra the Lavender has).


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> wow.  that was cool.  This town has been well-developed.  Was it in other Aquerra campaigns?  I'd of thought you'd not even have known the FMK (or KotG) would even come here.  Looks like they're all in trouble, though I suspect Gunthar won't be leaving the city with them...






Did you read this note:


> (4) In 558 H.E. a feud between rival powerful adventuring parties in the central tier led to the death of several townsfolk and structural damage to several buildings.




Well, one of those parties was the very first party of PCs to be run in Aquerra, the summer that 2E came out.  A rogue fireball or two and indiscriminate use of "red god fire" (i.e. alchemical fire) did a lot of damage and helped set the tone for the town for campaigns to come.

Years later, the Sign of Four (another adventuring party of PCs (the guys who plays Ratchis was part of that group) passed through Nikar on their way to save a kidnapped member of their company.

So, yes. . over time I have built on it and developed it, thus leading to the detail I had available when the FMK go there.

Thanks for reading!


----------



## el-remmen

Hey all,

Just stopping by to procrastinate while at work. . . uh, I mean, to let you know I have begun on the next installment and hope to not only get any entire session into one installment (no promise, though), but hope to get it done this weekend.

Some of the things you can look forward to in the next installment and in the installments detailing the next five or six sessions are:


_Communion_ with a Higher Power!
The return of an old foe
Suspected betrayal by an ally of the party
Aid from afar in the form a new companion
A long journey back to Gothanius
A City of Undead on Another Plane


----------



## Dawn

Looking forward to the update!


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## Manzanita

cool.  Old foe.  About time to see that bat shapechager teacher of the sorceress...gosh, I'm forgetting names right and left...


----------



## handforged

Thanks for this wonderful update.  I'm glad I finally found a chance to read it.  New house, no internet.  I am very excited about what is to come.

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

*I decided to break it up into two installments. . .*

*Session #71 (part I)*

_Martin climbed slowly up the narrow stone spiral steps.  Each step seemed a great effort, and the shadowy forms on close walls leered at him with fearful resentment, their eyes glowing yellow and red. No people could cast shadows such as those, only undead shades rippling and moving in the dim smoky torchlight of the stairway looked that way.  Panting, and clutching the Book of Black Circles to his chest, Martin could sense something foul crawling up the stairs behind him; not in pursuit, but casually rising as if it were a sapient mist that was certain it would catch the watch-mage soon enough. 

The stairway opened onto a narrow hall, and immediately to the right there was a stone door etched with the sign of a gnarled hand, its two smallest fingers replaced with a long narrow suckered tentacle that reached down across the palm and around the wrist.  

It was the Sign of the Corruptor.

Martin pushed open the door, certain it was the only safe place in whatever of labyrinth of horror he found himself.  He slammed the door behind him, and looked around the dark room.  He could hear scuttling insects scampering across the stone walls and floor, and a soft creaking.  Before him was a desk made of blackened bones, on the front of which were mounted the stripped spines of four men and one woman, faces of rotting flesh still atop them.  A dull greasy light emanated from the low ceiling, illuminating the desk. Unable to stop himself he walked over to the desk and placed the book atop it.  

The soft creaking grew louder as whoever sat behind the desk was leaning forward into the sickly light, but Martin kept his eyes on the book.  He rubbed his right hand against the raised metallic circles on the book’s cover made of blacked human hide and let out a long slow sigh, and then raised his eyes to meet the gaze of who he knew to be the book’s true master.

Sitting behind the desk a figure in a black velvet robe leaned forward. Its face was bleached skull upon which was a scrap of painted rotted flesh tacked onto the clinging bits of meat by means of jeweled pins. It reached out with a bony hand for the Book of Black Circles, gray flesh melting off its tentacled fingers, as some kind of razor-backed slug dug its way out of the back of his hand and onto the desk.  A second of these black maggots crawled out of the jagged mouth whole of the false face and burrowed into its right eye, which was stitched across its length.  The left eye was embedded with a myriad of tiny glowing gems and rolled loosely in the skull.

Martin knew instinctively, it was Marchosias the Corruptor.

Marchosias turned the book around to face him, and then looking up at Martin, moved an emerald-headed pin to tack the painted piece of torn flesh that served for his face into a horrific parody of a smile.  He opened the Book of Black Circles, running a sharpened bony finger along the words and diagrams.  He stopped three distinct times and then snapping the book shut, turned it back around to face Martin, and pushed it towards the watch-mage.

Martin the Green was frozen in fear. Unable to speak or even turn away from the horrible person before him, he had to see the dreadful face look at him again and hear the cold hissing voice issue from the skull behind the flesh mask.

“There is much you can learn from this book that can be put to good use in your quest,” Marchosias said. “There is much you can learn from it even as you sleep.  One hundred and thirteen, ninty-seven and twelve; seek these pages and the spells you may learn there will open up the mysteries of the next House. And you may visit me here again, to learn more…”
_ (1)


Balem, the 19th of Ter – 565 H.E.

Martin awoke with a start.  He was leaning over on the desk in the common suite room, where he had been studying late into the night.  Groggily he straightened up and looked down at what he had been working on.  The Book of Black Circles was on the desk.  He leapt up in fear and turned and looked around, confusedly. 

Sighing, he took up the book and wrapped it up and put it away.

The suite door opened and Gunthar tiptoed in.

“I am awake, Gunthar,” Martin whispered, figuring Dorn was still asleep in the next room.

“Good!” Gunthar said, his face turning from surprised to friendly.  He flashed a smile, and brushed his ever-shaggy blonde hair behind his ear.  He was dressed in an open sailcloth shirt, and black breeches covered in stains of splashed ale.  “You’re who I wanted to talk to.  There was something of mine in the suite, and…”

“I moved your pots of smoke-powder under _your_ bed,” Martin replied.  “I did not appreciate you endangering me like that.”

“Oh, we’re all in danger right now,” Gunthar replied.  “There is enough in those things to knock the second story of off this place.  But keep it down, I’m not supposed to have it.  I kinda got it on the sly.”

“And you hid it with my things, _because_…”

“Because with all the guards snooping around I figured you might not be searched or could explain it off as part of your magic stuff or something.  I appreciate your help,” Gunthar said smiling.  “But you aren’t going to tell Snuffles and Stumpy are you?  Because they can ruin everything and then conveniently forget they made a deal.”

“Deal?”

“To destroy the dragon together and split the reward,” Gunthar said. “I help you with this Maze of Whoever stuff and in return you help me with my plan with the dragon.  The you-know-what is for the Can-on.  We’re gonna punch a whole in that dragon so big you’ve be able to see through to the moon.”

Gunthar laughed, and Martin noticed the Neergaardian was still drunk despite it being morning.

“You cannot leave them here,” Martin replied.

“Oh, don’t worry Martin, I already have a better hiding place until we’ll leave,” Gunthar replied, giving Martin a playful punch in the jaw that made the watch-mage bite his tongue.  “Just don’t tell Stumpy and Snuffles. At least not until we leave town.”

“I will conthider it,” Martin said, wincing at the coppery taste of blood in his mouth.

“Eh, I’m sacking out,” Gunthar said, obviously annoyed at Martin’s non-committal reply. He walked towards the bedrooms.  “I’ll move the pots this afternoon.”


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

Later that day Martin headed over to Lydia’s house for lunch.  The house was large and well built with white stucco walls and support beams painted a bright magenta and carved with runes and frills in gold paint.  The sitting room doubled as a shrine to Isis, with a small altar flanked by statues of the goddess of motherhood and magic.

There was a small dining area with a large window facing the edge of the town’s upper tier.  Sunlight soaked the room.  Here Martin told Isis the long tale of the Keepers of the Gate, from his arrival in Gothanius to map room of the Pit of Bones, and finally wandered back around to the subject of the Book of Black Circles.

“It is hard to believe you have such powerful item of magic bent for evil in your possession,” Lydia said.  Her long black hair was in two thick braids decorated with red ribbons and silver beads.  She smiled easily, but it showed soft lines of age and stress under her eyes and around her full lips.  She brought a teacup to her mouth and slurped a long last sip. “I mean, this is something any priestess of my order would give her life to destroy.”

“Well, fortunate for your order Osiris has chosen me as the means of destruction,” Martin replied.

“Still, it is my duty to help you in whatever way I can,” Lydia replied.  “I must admit, however, your lore on Marchosias most likely surpasses mine.”

Martin did not reply, trying hard to hide his disappointment.

“May I see it?” Lydia asked.

“I am not sure that is a good idea,” Martin said.

Lydia frowned.

“The Book’s power grows, as I have told you, I dreamt of him last night, and when my companion Ratchis first touched it he sensed that it tried to steal a piece of his life-force,” Martin said.

“Perhaps that is wise, and perhaps there is another way I can help you,” Lydia stood and walked out through the kitchen into the house’s back rooms.  She returned a few moments later with a brass scroll tube.  “This is a scroll I awarded for service to the priesthood of Isis.  It would allow me to _commune_ with her, or more likely one of her more powerful celestial servants, on your behalf. You and your companions can prepare a list of ten questions.”

“That would be a great gift!” Martin smiled.

“I think I have a bottle of wine I can open to celebrate for the occasion,” Lydia said. “I am honored to be of even a little help to such a noble effort.” 

She walked back into the kitchen.  Martin could hear her banging around in some cabinets looking for the wine. “It should be on the coming Isilem,” she called. “In the evening, after vespers.  It would be the most auspicious time, and would give you and your friends time to prepare what queries you may have of the higher realms about your plight.”

“Thank you, again,” Martin replied.

Martin the Green was tipsy by the time he left, giggling with Thomas as he made his way back to Mercy’s house to tell Ratchis the news of the aid.

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

As Ratchis spent his day with Mercy learning the mysteries of more powerful spells now available to him from Nephthys, Roland spent his day wandering in and around the grounds of the Council Hall in the form of small black house cat, snooping here and there.

After a morning of finding nothing but some small fish fed to him by Reed Flapcorn’s aid, Roland wandered to Mylor’s upper tier home to snoop around there, but the large barking dogs let loose behind the low wall surround his property quickly dissuaded him.  Instead, after lunch he returned to the Council Hall and scoured the public records of the Council’s meetings for anything he thought might give away some misdoings on the part of all or some of the ruling council.  

He found nothing but the patterns of voting among the members, and the usual alliances and conflicts.  Disappointed, he returned to the temple of Bast to clean up and prepare for dinner at the Inn of Friendly Flame with the rest of the companions that could make it.

On his way out, Toni, the temple’s public contact, a tall stick of a woman with powdery white skin and jet-black hair stopped him.  She wore a soft white robe, and had a towel about her neck.

“Brother Roland!  Do you happen to be going to the Inn of Friendly Flame?” she asked, stroking a cat in her arms.

“Why, yes, Sister Toni, I indeed plan to go,” Roland replied.

“Could you bring this message to Sister Norena?  I believe she is there, and I was about to bathe and would prefer to not have to get dressed,” she pointed her hip towards Roland, motioning for him to reach into a robe pocket.

He pulled out a small square of paper folder over twice.

“Now this is for her eyes only,” Toni said with a wide smile and a raised eyebrow.  “I know you must be curious, Bast knows I was, but you mustn’t.” 

“I am offended that you even suggest such a thing,” Roland replied with a flourish and an over-dramatized sensitivity, and then threw her a wink as he took off for the inn.

He was barely out of the sight of the temple when he opened the folded paper and looked at it.

It read:

_Norena, RTR in trouble. Gather the others and meet him in Pissville._

Roland folded it back up and continued to the inn.

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

The Inn of Friendly Flame was crowded with the usual evening revelers.  Ratchis and Mercy sat at a table with Martin and Dorn, a space remaining open for Roland, but he spied Norena by the bar with Razzle Greyish and a broad brown-haired man wearing a stylized silver tome engraved with an ankh about his neck. 

Roland approached them, and after an exaggerated kissing greeting, he gave her the note and joined the others at the table.

“Kazrack won’t be able to join us as often now that his training has begun and he is working on his armor in his spare time,” Ratchis said.

“I will beginning some training of my own beginning the day after we use Lydia’s help,” Martin added.  “But I will come by every few days to check on how your reading is going, Ratchis. And we can go over more of the orcish inflection.” (2)

“Well, my investigations into the Council have not gotten off to a very good start, but I have happened upon some other news,” Roland said, bringing his voice to a near whisper as he poured himself some wine.  

“Best to leave the Council alone,” Martin said.

“I agree,” added Ratchis. “We do not want to accidentally get embroiled in something that might delay our return to Greenreed Valley when the Maze opens.”

“Oh fine!” Roland rolled his eyes dramatically and took a long sip of his wine.  “But what am I supposed to do while you are all doing your studying and training?  This town is boring!  Why do you think I am joining you?”

“To do the right thing?” Ratchis sneered.

“Yes, well… that, too.”

“So what is it you found out?” Mercy asked.

“Hold on a minute,” Roland gestured with his chin towards the bar, and then took another sip of wine.  Norena was coming over.

“Oh, sweetheart!” She wrapped her arms around Roland’s neck and shoulders from behind and gave him an exaggerated kiss on the cheek. “I was so hoping we’d have time for a drink or three tonight, but it seem the message you brought me brings bad news to all of Nikar.”

“It does?” Roland leaned back to look at her.

“Well, it seems I must collect my companions and leave this very evening before the gate is closed,” Norena explained, pulling up a seat and helping herself to Roland’s wine. “A dear friend of ours is in trouble and we must go pull his ass from the fire once again.”

“Who is this friend?” Roland asked.

Norena put a finger to Roland’s lips.  “Shhh! Best not to tell too much,” she replied. “I would have invited you along, but since you have thrown your lot in with these, uh… fine people…”

“Yes, it is unfortunate that timing would not allow me to help you help your friend,” Roland replied.  “But things have a way of working out, Bast willing.”

“Well, I must go and prepare,” Norena said, standing again.  “It was lovely to meet you all.  Mercy, we must have lunch when I return one day.” 

The priestess of Bast turned to the bar, “Razzle! Cordell! I will meet you in front of the temple in two hours time.”  And with that, she was gone blowing kisses to those who drunkenly waved good-bye.

“Okay, you the friend she says she going to go help?” Roland asked.  He waited until the others grudgingly nodded, playing along. “It is… if I am not mistaken, and I have understood everything you have told me about you journeys… it is… Richard the Red.”

“What?” Ratchis scowled.

“She received a message at the temple and I brought it to her,” Roland said.

“You read the message!” Martin was shocked.

“Of course,” Now it was Roland’s chance to sneer.  “I would love the luxury of following the more superficial customs of honor, but I know that every priest and page in that temple that touched that note and read that note, and you don’t get far in the gossipy hall of the church of Bast without knowing everything you can about everyone you can.”

“You cannot have freedom without trust,” Mercy said, looking faintly disgusted.  Ratchis nodded.

“Well, that is why you are Friars and I serve a more subtle goddess, no offense,” Roland replied, softening his tone as he spoke.  “Anyway, the note said, ‘R-T-R’.  Richard the Red.”

“R-T-R could mean anyone or anything,” Ratchis responded.

“Ah! Perhaps if that was the only clue, but the note also said to meet him in ‘Pissville’,” Roland leaned back and smiled broadly.

“So? You know where this _Pissville_ is?” Ratchis asked.

Roland sighed.  “It’s slang!  Some of the old Cant,” Roland was exasperated.  “’Pisspot’ or ‘pissant’, it means small time, little, not worth it… As in, the _Little_ Kingdoms, where Richard the Red is…”

“Seems like a tenuous connection,” Martin said.

Roland’s shoulders sagged.

“I thought Norena was a companion of Alexandra the Lavender, why would she associate with a rogue watch-mage,” Martin asked.

“You don’t know Norena,” Roland poured more wine, his smile and good mood totally drained by the unexpected dubious reaction to his news. “No one tells her to do anything and who her friends are, least of all some distant authority that has no hold over her, like the Academy of Wizardry.”

“Well, even if your guess is right, there is nothing we can do about it,” Ratchis said. “We continue along the way we planned.  We train and provision ourselves and then go back.  No distractions.  No sidetreks.”

Roland sighed again.  “So bored…”

“I have something you can help me with tomorrow, if you are looking for something to do,” Martin said to the Bastite.

“What’s that?” 

“I want you to help me test the extent of the effect on my spell-casting that the Book of Black Circles,” Martin replied, matter-of-factly.

---------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1) *DM’s Note:* The categorization of spells by level are called the “Houses” of magic in Aquerra, with a ‘Wizard of the 5th House’ being either a 10th or 11th level wizard.  

(2) Martin the Green was teaching Ratchis to read, and in return Ratchis was teaching him how to speak in orcish.


----------



## Jon Potter

Uh... Nemm, you might want to take another peek at this one. I think something's missing.



			
				el-remmen said:
			
		

> Ratchis and Mercy sat at a table with Martin and Dorn, a space remaining open for Roland, but he spied Norena by the bar with [insertname] Greyish and a broad brown-haired man wearing a stylized silver tome engraved with an ankh about his neck.





I loved the "dream" witht the Corruptor, btw! And if I was playing Martin, I'd be hard-pressed not to check out those page numbers. Of course, when you're getting advice from someone named "The Corruptor" perhaps it's better to resist the temptation.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Hey, are we getting a write by insertion version of a paint by numbers story?

GW

(obviously kidding or we'd all be doing it.  )


----------



## el-remmen

Jon Potter said:
			
		

> Uh... Nemm, you might want to take another peek at this one. I think something's missing.




Ah you caught me!  When I don't want looking things up to interfere with the flow of writing I just put in a place-holder until I can go back and look - but of course, in this case I missed it. . .  :\ 

As for the dream. . . Curiosity leads to Temptation and Temptation leads to Misdeeds, which lead to CORRUPTION!!!!!!  Mwuhahahaha!


----------



## Manzanita

That was truly spooky.  That corruptor is something out of a horror movie.  Yuck!

Hope the KotG do meet up w/RtR again.  I always like him.  Perhaps he was the one you were speaking of earlier

How's the real game going, by the way?  Is it finished yet?


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> How's the real game going, by the way?  Is it finished yet?




Well, there have been lots of scheduling troubles of late and have only met twice all summer - so my hopes of being done by the end of the ear are waning. 

We _are_ meeting this Saturday. . .  so assuming we can get back to twice a month or so for the rest of the year this is a chance, albeit small, that we can be done before 2006 - if not, I will give it til February, our five year anniversary of the campaign, and celebrate with a TPK


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #71 (part II)*

Anulem, the 20th of Ter – 565 H.E.

The next morning found Martin and Roland in the Garden of Stones Cemetery.

“Are you sure this is a good site for this?” Roland asked, looking around nervously.

“Well, we can’t do it in town by law, and rightly so, and you told me yourself there are outlying farmhouses out past the southwestern gate.  This is the only place we can be guaranteed to be alone and there be no one around to be accidentally hurt,” Martin explained.

 “What do you want me to do?” Roland asked.

“I want you to create a magical circle of protection against evil for me to stand in, and stand ready to _dispel magic_ as I cast some spells to see if the Book’s influence overtakes me as it did a few times already,” Martin replied (1)

“I shall do my best.” Roland said. “But first. . . “

Calling to Bast, Roland summoned a golden lion to stand guard as they experimented.  Roland leaned close to it, stroking its mane and whispering something in its ear. (2)

And so, Martin the Green began casting various spells he had prepared, starting with simple spells of the First and Second House, and then working his way up.    As chanted to summon a Celestial Dire Preying Mantis he felt a wave of cold swell up and down his body and out his hands, the minute and detailed movements of his fingers, slowing, and before him in blast of red and black fire appeared a huge mottled red preying mantis, the smell of burning copper and sulfur wafting up from it.

“Oh my!” Martin exclaimed.

“Dismiss it!” Roland cried, as his lion guard roared in disapproval.

In a moment it was gone.

“I don’t think the circle of protection helped,” said Martin.

“At least you didn’t lose consciousness or control of yourself when it happened, and you didn’t exude a shield of green and black fire,” Roland said.  “That’s something.”

“I guess…” Martin trailed off.  “I guess it can be a safe assumption that I should not try summoning spells anymore, and necromantic are probably off limits, too.

Roland shrugged his shoulders.  “At least not unless it is an emergency.”

Martin nodded.

Isilem, the 23rd of Ter – 565 H.E.

In the afternoon, three days later the Keepers of the Gate gathered in their suite to discuss the questions they would ask by means of Lydia’s _Commune_ spell.  They had Huggert send them up a huge meal and a few flagons of mead and ale, and Roland brought three bottles of wine, as well. Mercy was there for input, but Gunthar had not been seen in days.

 What ensued was an argument and debate fueled by pride and spirits, that would last several hours, as every possible question and phrasing of the questions was suggested, revised, shot down or ridiculed. (3)

Kazrack argued stubbornly for questions so detailed the others were unsure what use the information gained would be, since the answers came in the form of ‘yes’ or ‘no’.  However, the dwarf was unsure that he could trust a human divinity to not to twist the answers to the questions.

Roland took offense to this, seeing it as an insult to Isis, who is a close ally of his own goddess.

The two of them barked in each other’s face for and hour, ignoring or belittling the suggestions others made.  Ratchis stormed out followed by Mercy and Dorn, while Martin muttered, as if to himself, trying to calm down the other two.

Mercy and Ratchis waited downstairs to let things cool down, while Dorn exhausted by a subject he did not really care so much about left to find another tavern to have a drink in.  He would meet the others back in the suite after the _Commune_.  The two friars ordered some drinks.

Martin came down with Roland, and the Bastite order six rounds of dwarven spirits and brought them upstairs for him and Kazrack on a tray.  The argument continued upstairs, while Ratchis, Martin and Mercy drafted a set of seven questions, leaving three slots for whatever Roland and Kazrack managed to come up with.

As Ra’s Glory finished setting in the west, Ratchis, Roland, Kazrack, Martin and Mercy made their way over to Lydia’s house.

They were greeted by Daphne at the door, and one by one introduced to a shriveled old woman with a few strands of woolen white hair left on her liver-spotted scalp.  This was Lydia’s mother.  She spoke in a whisper no one in the party could hear, but all were too polite to say so.  She led them into the sitting room, where Lydia knelt before the shrine.  She wore a white gown with a broad gold collar.  Her hair was in one thick braid wrapped around on the top of her head.

“Have you prepared the questions,” she asked.  “There will not be much time to think them over once the spell has begun.”

“Yes,” Martin said, speaking for the party. “I have written them down.  Would you like to see them?”

“That will not be necessary,” Lydia replied, still not turning around.  “I will remember little or nothing of this experience.  You will need to speak the questions to the celestial that will be contacting. You will see.  Please sit.”

The party took chairs that were lined up to face the shrine.  Daphne and Lydia’s mother sat near the back.

Plumes of incense smoke rose slowly from either side of the shrine and gathered in swirling clouds among the ceiling rafters.  Lydia began a long chant to Isis, calling to the moon and the stars.

“Mother of all!  Weaver of Magic! She who gathered the pieces of her husband-brother and sowed them, infusing all nature with her Power, I call to you, to use my body as vessel to send some aspect of your divine beauty, or some servant infused with your eternal power so that we might uncover the mysteries of this world so that it might be safer for all the mothers who reflect your Love with the love they have for their own children, so that the world will be safe for those children, just as every man and woman is your child.”

On and on the chant went, but Lydia’s voice grew softer and softer, as the sphere of opaque white glass on the shrine began to glow in the dim room.  Finally, her words went from a raspy wheeze to total silence and Lydia’s head lolled down, chin to chest, as if she had fallen asleep.

All was silent for a moment, and the Keepers of the Gate looked to each other in confusion.  Finally, Lydia raised her head, but did not turn around.

“Whomever would ask the questions should speak now,” a voice like an autumn breeze rustling through trees to send bright colorful leaves to tumble across the air emanated from the priestess.  “This vessel grows tired already, and soon she will not be able to withstand it.”

Martin the Green took a deep breath and looked to Kazrack who shrugged.  Roland nodded that the mage should begin.

“Oh great mother of us all, or servant of her highest love,” Martin began.  “Can the means to destroy the Book of Black Circles be found within the book itself?”

“No,” came the voice issuing from Lydia.

Martin’s shoulders sagged.

“Does the Book of Black Circles have to be destroyed in a specific place?” 

“Yes,” came the voice.  Roland gulped as he noticed that Lydia’s mouth did not move when the voice was heard.  He felt a chill run down his back.

“Will we, the Keepers of the Gate, be able to locate Hurgun’s Maze in time to enter it before anyone else does with the information gained in the Pit of Bones?” Martin asked.

There was a long pause.

“You will be _able_.” There was a rush of air in the room, as the voice became deeper with the last syllable.

Kazrack sneered, but Martin hesitated, taken aback by answer that did not come in the form of ‘yes’ or ‘no’.

“Hurry,” Daphne whispered harshly.

“Are there any other parties currently seeking Hurgun’s Maze by means of watching what we, the Keepers of the Gate, are doing?” Martin asked.

There was almost no pause.  “Yes.”

 “Is our former companion, Beorth Sahkmet still alive?”

The wait for reply seemed excruciatingly long.

“Yes.”

The Keepers of the Gate of cheered spontaneously and smiled broadly.

“I knew it!” Ratchis said.

Martin cleared his throat.

“Will tossing the Book of Black Circles into the Positive Material Plane destroy it?”

“No.”

“Does Richard the Red seek out Hurgun’s Maze?”

“Yes.”

“Does the King of Gothanius carry fiendish blood in his veins?”

“No.”

 “Do Adder’s splinter group of monks really serve Anubis?” Martin asked.

There was another long pause.  “No.”

“Is there a connection between the goings on at the Garden of Stones and our quest for Hurgun’s Maze?”

“Not directly,” and with those two words, Lydia’s body slumped forward again, and this time she collapsed to the floor.  Daphne leapt to her feet to help her mistress, and Ratchis helped the aid put the priestess in the seat he had been occupying a moment before.  Lydia’s eyes fluttered and she jerked away startled at Ratchis’ closeness.  The half-orc felt his face flush.

“I hope it was helpful,” Lydia said softly, closing her eyes again, and putting her hand to her head.

“It helped us to eliminate some possibilities,” Kazrack said, allowing some disappointment to creep into his voice; none of his questions had been used.

“It was very helpful. Thank you,” said Martin.

“Your sacrifice of this gift is appreciated,” Ratchis added.

“When we fulfill the alliances of our gods here in the mortal realm we do them great honor,” Roland said.

“Let us have some tea to clear our minds and relax,” Daphne said. “Wait here, I will prepare it and call you into the kitchen when it is ready.”

The rest of the evening passed with Ratchis, Martin, Kazrack, Roland and Mercy having tea with Lydia and Daphne (Lydia’s mother went to sleep).  They did not speak of their mission, or the answers they had gotten, instead Kazrack told of his training, part of which involved the teaching of acolytes, and he went into detail about the intricate carvings that would be on the breastplate of his new armor.  Mercy spoke a little of her time in Thricia working to ferry former slaves out of the western frontier of that land.   Ratchis told the tale of his meeting Jetta and Narcel (4), and Roland told a funny tale about a drunken brawl his very first adventuring group got into the night before their very first adventure.

Feeling relaxed for the first time in months, the Keepers of the Gate wandered back to the in. Kazrack wanted to have one last drink, and Ratchis wanted to find Dorn to have it with.  Mercy returned home.  Uncharacteristically, Roland excused himself as well, and headed back to the temple of Bast.

“It lightens my heart that Beorth still lives,” Kazrack said, as the trio climbed up their suite room to see if Dorn was there.  “We will drink to his health and success when we go back downstairs.  I will buy the house a round in his honor!”

Ratchis opened the door, hearing Dorn’s voice within.  “Dorn! Come join us for a…”

Sitting at the table in the suite’s parlor was a tall thin figure with shockingly white skin, black hair and a black mole on his left cheek.  He had hawk-like features, and wore black travel-stained clothing.  It was Rindalith.

*End of Session #71*

----------------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	See Sessions #63, 64 and 66.

(2)	*DM’s Note:* In Aquerra, _Summoning_ spells can be cast to have a duration of 10 minutes per level, if the creature summoned is given instructions that do not involve combat.  If the summoned creature becomes involved in combat while undertaking its main task, it will disappear after one round regardless of how much of the duration is left. 

(3)	*DM’s Note:* This will probably go down as my least favorite session of ‘Out of the Frying Pan’ ever.  The players argued over what questions to ask (both in and out of character) for nearly four hours of real time.  My head was killing me by the time whatever compromise they came to was made, but unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) no notes or quotes were taken for the entire argument, so the details could not be recounted here.

(4) Jetta and Narcel are Mercy’s parents and Ratchis’ teachers.


----------



## Manzanita

Interesting.  As I read the argument description, I couldn't help but think it wasn't all recorded.

And hey, I was right about Rindalith's return!  I knew he had some unfinished part to play, and with Jana gone and time ticking away, he had to make a reappearence.

I did like the questions asked.  They were great and really advanced the plot line.  The most interesting one was whether another group was 'following' them.  I've lost track of why they think that to be the case, though clearly they were on the mark.  I wonder if that's the Monks.  Or perhaps Guntar's crew somehow...


----------



## handforged

Ok.  C'mon now.  You really just cannot stop there.  I mean, seriously, what are we supposed to do to keep from exploding with anticipation?  Godspeed with the next update.

~hf


----------



## Manzanita

I guess you won't be starting your new game for awhile then.  I'm still holding out hope you'll want to run a PbP game at some point.  Don't forget I've already taken out first dibs on PCs, el-remmen!


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

I have finally caught up again!
Glad to see these guys back in action again.

Gunther as an NPC now makes a lot more sense- I originally thought he had been taken over as a PC and that you had a very very mature & immersive group to play with- but NPC's are ALLOWED to be obnoxious and antagonistic without anyone starting to get annoyed at the player


----------



## el-remmen

handforged said:
			
		

> Ok.  C'mon now.  You really just cannot stop there.  I mean, seriously, what are we supposed to do to keep from exploding with anticipation?  Godspeed with the next update.
> 
> ~hf




I suggest going back and reading the first encounter with Rindalith - it is one of my favorite portions of the whole campaign. . .

. . . but, I have started working on the next installment (about 5 pages into it) and hopefully I will have a chance to finish and post it during the weekend.


----------



## Manzanita

The first encounter being when he was spotted on a tower in Gothanius (sp?).  Or when he shows up for Jana much later?  Probably the latter.  I must admit I don't remember it all too well, myself.  He submitted paperwork (later determined to be falsified) to extradite Jana on murder charges, did he not?  Upon the return trip, which for some reason, Richard the Red was also on, the party had manticore encounter #2, which was one of the best fights I've ever seen.  We never did figure out who sent the manticore.  It was after Richard wasn't it?


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> The first encounter being when he was spotted on a tower in Gothanius (sp?).  Or when he shows up for Jana much later?  Probably the latter.  I must admit I don't remember it all too well, myself.  He submitted paperwork (later determined to be falsified) to extradite Jana on murder charges, did he not?  Upon the return trip, which for some reason, Richard the Red was also on, the party had manticore encounter #2, which was one of the best fights I've ever seen.  We never did figure out who sent the manticore.  It was after Richard wasn't it?




Yep, I guess I meant the second encounter - since for the first one they di not know yet it was Rindalith (and except for Jana, none of the others knew Rindalith even existed to trouble them).

As for the manticore, I thought it was mentioned at some point that Mozek sent it after the party (which if you remember the interrogation on the night Chance was killed, Mozek assumed Richard the Red was working with the party).


----------



## handforged

Anybody got a link to the mentioned episode?  I have limited access to spend looking through various archives.  Thanks.

~hf


----------



## mofos21

Hmm ... I don't seem to know how to provide you with a direct link to the post.  But, I can at least set you in the right direction.

Go here.  About halfway down the page, you'll find _Session # 28 (part V)_ [post #109], which I believe is where the party first meets Rindalith (officially).  Let the courtroom drama ensue!

If you go about three-quarters down the page, you'll get to _Session #28 (part vii)_ [post #118], in which the party begins their battle against Rindalith and the manticore.  It continues in the next installment.

Happy reading (or re-reading, as the case may be)!


----------



## el-remmen

mofos21 said:
			
		

> Hmm ... I don't seem to know how to provide you with a direct link to the post.




The post # in the top right corner of each post is a link. . . you can right-click and "Copy Shortcut"

Anyway, post #109 and post #118


----------



## mofos21

el-remmen said:
			
		

> The post # in the top right corner of each post is a link. . . you can right-click and "Copy Shortcut"
> 
> Anyway, post #109 and post #118



I was able to figure that out, but that opens a new window with _only_ that particular post.  

It doesn't do much good by itself for the second one, as the battle continues on in further posts.  Unless you only want to read about half the battle.    

I was looking for a way to have a link direct one to a specific post _within_ the thread, rather than to just the post by itself.  I've be able to do so on other boards, just couldn't figure out how to do it here.


----------



## el-remmen

*complete session*

*Session #72*

“I _knew_ we had a bottle of wine back there,” Dorn said, as he came out of the bedroom pulling at a wine bottle’s cork.  “Oh! Hi, Ratchis!”

A thin gray smoke filled the room, and Ratchis noticed a couple of pipes on the table where the warlock sat.

“I have no quarrel with you,” Rindalith said, slowly getting to his feet and putting up both long-fingered hands.  Long white hairs curled away wildly from the middle-aged man’s thick black locks.

“He is delaying us in order to use foul magic!” Kazrack said, pushing past Ratchis into the room as soon as he noted what was going on.  Martin the Green threw his back to the corridor wall just outside the door, remembering the forking lightning bolt of their last encounter (1)

“But I have come to you in friendship, Kazrack,” Rindalith said, soothingly. He waved the fingers of his left hand once.  The dwarf pulled short of the tackle he originally intended.

“Uh, very well, you came unexpectedly; my apologies,” Kazrack said, looking back to Ratchis with confusion on his face.

“Hey, what’s going on?  Your friend has been entertaining me,” Dorn said, a dumb-founded look lodged on his face.  He still held the bottle of wine.

“He has mind-controlled Kazrack and perhaps Dorn,” Ratchis warned Martin.  The half-orc yanked the dagger he kept on his black bracers with the momentum of his charge at the pale warlock.  “Let’s see if your charm spells work on me!”

“Is that how this is going to be?  Fine,” Rindalith said, sounding bored.  He stepped back as Ratchis’ blade cut at his forearm, but the Friar of Nephthys never got to follow up the blow, as out from behind Dorn leapt a dog of utter darkness. It was a mastiff made of shadow itself and it leapt at Ratchis, ripping at his arm and hip.

“Stand down, friends!’ Kazrack said, raising his hands.  “If Rindalith meant us harm he would have done so by now. Now, let me cast a spell to protect us from the dog-shade.”  And with that he cast _Protection from Evil_ on himself.  Serendipitously, the spell also blocked magics that controlled from without, so the dwarf was clear-headed once again.

“_Langsam!_” chanted Rindalith, and Kazrack and Ratchis felt their limbs cramp up slowing down their movement incredibly. 

The shadow mastiff ripped at Ratchis’ arm, keeping him from stopping Rindalith.

“Dorn!  Don’t choose between me and Rindalith! Get this damn dog off me!” Ratchis barked, and Dorn drew his sword, as if awakening from a dream, and cut at the shadow beast.  

The dog, bewildered, let go of Ratchis, and the half-orc did not hesitate. Hearing the words of a spell on the warlock’s lips again, Ratchis grabbed Rindalith, pinning the lanky man’s arms to his side and squeezed with all his might.  The words of the spell died on the man’s lips and he grunted in pain, as Kazrack came around and slammed his hairy knuckles into the warlock’s face several times as Ratchis held him.

Rindalith managed to gain purchase against the chair he had been sitting on and kicked back, sending Ratchis into a spin.  Kazrack had to hold his punch to keep from hitting his companion, but the half-orc did not let go.  He squeezed more and smiled as he heard Rindalith’s frantic chanting interrupted by agony again and again.

“Turn him around!” Kazrack cried, as Ratchis and Rindalith continued to struggle.  The dwarf pulled off the weighted sack about his halberd blade and turned to help Dorn, who seemed to be barely keeping the shadow mastiff at bay.  Martin stepped into the room with authority, mentally moving his arcane _shield_ to move before him, and cried, “_Lentus!_”

The dog’s silent barking slowed, but Rindalith seemed to wriggle with no less vigor in Ratchis’ arms.

“_Bilden sich v’einem affen!_ Rindalith cried with his last breath, and the sputtering choke turned into a cry of victory, as his chest began to expand and fill with air.  Ratchis buckled down trying to keep his arms tightly secure, but both of Rindalith’s arms began to lengthen and thicken, and his cloak and clothes shriveled and then bloomed with black and brown hair.  Rindalith’s shoulders exploded outward and the half-orc roared in pain as he was forced to let go; a nearly seven-foot ape where Rindalith had just been.

Crying out in surprise, Kazrack spun around and slammed the head of his halberd in the ape’s chest, drawing blood.  The ape knocked the pole arm back and slapped Ratchis with the back of a hairy hand with disdain that was evident through the warlock’s now simian features.   

Martin the Green reached into his _bag of tricks_ and tossed a furry ball at the shadowy dog.  The thing expanded into a raging wolverine that began to savage it.  Dorn felt the satisfaction of his blade seeming to actually pierce the thing while it was distracted.   The dog was able to reach past its new foe and grab Dorn’s thigh in its jaws and pull.  The sandy-haired warrior was pulled off his feet.

Not waiting to draw his weapon, Ratchis slammed Rindalith with a fist, but the new form was resilient.  Two slamming blows with his great hairy arms, and Ratchis was on the floor stunned and struggling to get back up.  Rindalith grunted with satisfaction, and then howled, feeling the bite of Kazrack’s halberd in his side.  He leapt away, but more blood was pouring down his leg.

Ratchis stood, but Rindalith was already bounding out the door into the hall beyond his reach.

Kazrack thrust his halberd into the mastiff, and for the first time it mimed a yelp.  It retreated into Martin’s path and nipped at the wizard as he took off after Rindalith.

It turned back around and looked at Kazrack, Dorn and now Ratchis beginning to encircle it, as the wolverine leapt back into the fray, and let out a long howl.

Kazrack dropped his halberd and turning fled into the bedrooms slamming the door shut in abject panic, passed only by Dorn who threw himself beneath his bed to shiver in the corner.

The wolverine, unnerved by the howl as well, took off to follow its master out into the hall.

Ratchis managed to get the peace-knot off his great sword and unsling it.  Unaffected by the fear, he chopped the dog three times and it dissipated into nothingness.

He went into the bedroom with _slowed_ strides to see to Kazrack and Dorn.

Thomas leapt from Martin’s shoulder up onto a rafter above the stairs, as his master hustled to keep up with the amazingly fast, yet still loping gait of Rindalith in ape form.

There were screams from the common room as the ape smashed through past the barmaids and the regulars and out the door.

“Out of the way!  Out of the way!  Wild ape!” Martin cried, as he chased after.

He could hear an echo of the cries as the wolverine came running along behind and finally caught up. 

The narrow streets of Nikar were abandoned, leaving only the light of the rising moon to lick up and down alleys.   The ape loped through the shadows weaving in and out as it headed for the tier edge.  His heart pounding in his chest and his breath hot in his throat, Martin continued to give chase, commanding the wolverine to go ahead and try to catch the warlock-ape, if it could.

The ape’s silhouette moved out into the open area free of buildings that marked the edge of the plateau, now making a beeline for the low wall.  

“Natan-Ahb’s Beard!” Martin heard a dwarven town guard cry out as the ape rushed past him.  Martin and his wolverine rushed by right after.  “Halt!”

“It’s a warlock! I mean, a witch!  Wild ape! Wild ape!” Martin cried, not sure which would make the guard more likely to help him.

“I said, halt!” the dwarf cried again.  He pulled his crossbow from his back and began to load a quarrel into it.

“You can’t let him get away!” Martin cried, still running.  The wolverine leapt at the ape, but Rindalith turned around and slammed it away.  The vicious little thing disappeared as it fell to the earth again.

The ape’s form began to melt back into the tall gaunt man.  Martin stopped about sixty feet from him and readied a spell.

“You will regret you chose to fight and not talk,” Rindalith hissed.

“Get down on your knees and put your hands on your heads!” the dwarf commanded.  

“We could be discussing this in a civilized fashion, but instead I am certain you will spend the evening extricating yourself from a mess,” Rindalith added, his skin began to turn brown, as his arms began to extend and fill in the space below, connecting to the trunk of his body.  As he spoke, his mouth began to twist and protrude with fangs. “I leave you to your fate.”

And with that he turned and flung himself over the low wall, a moment later a huge brown bat glided back up into view and then away into the darkness.

“I need to speak to Councilor Lydia immediately!” Martin said, spinning around to face the dwarven guard.

The guard’s jaw was resting on his chest, but he gathered his wits and spoke through gritted teeth. “Get down on your knees and put your hands on your head. Right now!”

Martin sighed and complied.

“I need to speak to Councilor Lydia right away,” Martin said again.

“Shut your yap, and if I see your nose so much as twitch I am going put this here bolt right in your eye,” the dwarven guard said, as he kept it pointed with one hand and reached for a horn resting on his mailed chest. He gave it three low short hoots.

 “Martin!”  Ratchis came out into the open around the corner of a building.  He had sheathed his great sword, and returned his dagger to the sheath on his left bracer.

The dwarven guard spun around startled, and then spun back to cover Martin again, and then back.

“This is a misunderstanding,” Ratchis said, stepping forward slowly.

“Take another step pig-f*cker.  I dare you!” There was another barking dwarven voice as two more guards came charging into the open, crossbows in hand.

Ratchis raised his hands and snarled.

Three more guards arrived momentarily, though these were human and deferred to the first ones.

“I’m telling you, Lydia needs to be informed of this,” Martin pleaded.

“I am sure Captain Lodestone will let her and the other council members know if they need to,” the dwarven lieutenant replied.

They were relieved of their weapons and components and led towards the stairs down to the guardhouse on the central tier.

“What took you so long?” Martin asked.

“Kazrack is still charmed,” Ratchis replied. (2)  “I was able to break the spell on Dorn, but Kazrack…”

“Quiet!” One of the dwarves barked.

“And I was _slowed_,” Ratchis whispered.

Martin and Ratchis were made to sit in an open holding cell for the Captain to arrive.  It was ten minutes later that Kazrack and Dorn were led in as well.

Dorn wore a long face.  “I’m sorry, Ratchis,” he said meekly.

“There is nothing you could have done,” Ratchis replied.

“But he charmed me so easily.  Doesn’t that mean my will is weak?” Dorn asked.

“No.  It only shows how insidious such magic can be.”

“What are you talking about?” Kazrack frowned.

“You are charmed by Rindalith,” Ratchis replied.

“No, I am not.”

“Yes, you are,” Ratchis said.  “Don’t you remember when it temporarily was not working?”

“Uh, all I know is that Rindalith came to us peacefully and suddenly you attacked Rindalith and shadow dog-thing attacked us, and sure I helped, but only to break up the fight.  You are a dear friend D’nar.  I would choose you over him, but the point is, it needn’t have been that way if you had accepted his overture of friendship.”  Kazrack explained.

“You are charmed,” Ratchis repeated and Martin nodded.

“It happened to me,” said Dorn, not looking up.

“Nonsense! Dwarves cannot be charmed,” Kazrack insisted.

“Shut up in there!” came a cry from the guards. 

Captain Marno Lodestone arrived with a grimace etched onto his face, his eyes burning with a dull fire as if he had felt the pain of it.

“Your kind never learn,” he said, looking at Ratchis and then to others and then letting his eyes rest on the half-orc again, and then pointed to Kazrack.  “Master Delver, we will start with you.”

“I can certainly clear this whole mess up,” Kazrack said, standing.  “You see it was really a misunderstanding with an old friend.”

“He is charmed,” Ratchis said, standing.  “All he says is tainted by that foul magic.”

“Don’t be silly, Ratchis,” Kazrack said.  “Captain, I assure you I am not charmed.  Dwarves are too stout for magic to affect us easily, as you well know.”

The Captain nodded.  “Sit back down!”

“No!” Ratchis leapt forward to pull Kazrack back, and felt the fists of two dwarven guards on him immediately.

“Ratchis, stop!” Martin and Kazrack were both crying out.

The half-orc quelled his temper, but it was too late.  Heavy dwarven fists, landed on him again and soon he was being manacled and dragged off to spend the night “in the hole”, a small solitary cell deep in the earth.

“Captain, Ratchis was telling the truth, Kazrack is under the influence of a spell,” Martin said.

“He has to be to waste his time with the lot of you,” the Captain replied.

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

In the Captain’s office, Kazrack took a seat.

“The people you choose to spend time with says a lot about you,” the Captain said.

“My companions are steadfast, and circumstances have conspired against us to bring us into conflict with the law, but not by our own doing,” Kazrack said.  “This has been a misunderstanding.”

“So, you are saying you and your companions were not running through the streets of my town with weapons and fighting some shape-changer of some kind?”

“Well, we were surprised in our room by the mentor of a former companion,” Kazrack said.  “We have not always seen eye to eye, and unfortunately Ratchis misconstrued something and the there were strong words, and perhaps some blows exchanged, but nothing serious.”

“The testimony of one of the guards does not seem to match up with that version of the story, at least not exactly,” the Captain said. “Are you sure this is not about some past grudge that you and your companions decided to try to resolve with the confines of Nikar despite my warning against such things?”

“No, sir,” replied Kazrack.  “Like I said, this was all a misunderstanding, and Rindalith was not there to hurt us, nor did we want to hurt him, but…”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know.  I’m a little bit confused about what happened, exactly,” Kazrack stuttered.

Captain Lodestone harrumphed and sent Kazrack back to the cell and called for Martin the Green.

“Have you called for Councilor Lydia?” Martin asked as he came in.

“_I_ will ask the questions here,” the captain said. “And the enforcement of the law is _my_ domain, if it is a matter for the rest of the Council is something for me to decide.”

“There is an evil warlock loose in your town, and as a member of the Ruling Council and a priestess of Isis, she should be informed as soon as possible,” Martin added.

“Rest assured, she and the rest of the Council will know about this soon enough,” Lodestone said.  “So, you freely contradict the testimony of your companion Kazrack?”

“He is still under the charm of the warlock, as Ratchis tried to tell you,” Martin explained. “Anything he said will be skewed to make it look as if Rindalith is a friend of his.”

“Why did this… what was his name? Rindalith?  Why did he attack you?” the captain asked.

“He is still looking for a former companion of ours, a young woman looking to leave her life of witchcraft behind.  She fell in our journeys,” Martin explained, realizing her had to shade the truth to make himself and the others look as good as possible.  “He would not accept that she was not around.”

Captain Lodestone looked at Martin for a long time. “Why didn’t you call for the guard immediately?”

“We didn’t have time,” Martin replied.  “And by the time I was outside chasing after him, I was afraid that if I made too much noise innocent townsfolk would be awakened to investigate and they might be endangered.”

“Do you have any idea where this warlock is now?” 

“No, but what he said just before he turned into bat-form led me to believe that he is not coming back,” Martin said.

“Didn’t you just describe him as ‘on the loose’?” Captain Lodestone asked. “And how you needed to see Councilor Lydia because of that?”

“Well, just in case…”

“For your sake, I hope that he really is gone, because I will not to be lenient next time I find you in violation of the law, no matter what the excuse.”

“So, we can go?”

“You and your companions will be fined for disturbing the peace and the half-breed will have to spend the night in the hole so he can learn respect,” the Captain said.

Martin the Green nodded. 

“Make sure you pay your fines on time, the citations will be sent to the inn,” Captain Lodestone added.

“Shouldn’t there be a hearing to see if we are guilty and what the fine, if any, should be?” Martin asked.

“Consider yourselves having pled guilty,” the Captain made a notation in his ledger. “Unless of course, you and your companions all want to remain in cells until the time of the hearing and throughout its duration, if should last more than one day…”

“We will pay.” (3)

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

As Martin, Dorn and Kazrack walked back to the inn, Kazrack continued to insist that dwarves could not be charmed.

“If that were not the case, would you admit that you were wrong?” Martin asked.

“Of course,” Kazrack replied, sounding offended.

“Then ask the High Priest when you get an opportunity and report his response,” Martin said.

“If I get the opportunity, but really, it is waste of time,” Kazrack said.

“Whatever you say, Kazrack,” Martin rolled his eyes. “Dorn, what were you and Rindalith talking about when we arrived?”

Dorn has not spoken a word since they had left the guardhouse.

“Everything,” Dorn was silent for a long time, and then continued, his voice hushed and full of shame.  “I told him almost everything I knew, or could piece together from what I have overheard.  It seemed to make sense at the time.  He said he was your friend and he seemed very friendly.”

“That is where the skill of evil lies,” Kazrack said.  “It seems pleasing, but it is not.”

“Well, you know what that means?” Martin sighed.  “It means, we’ll probably have to deal with Rindalith at Hurgun’s Maze as well. I mean, if he has found out about it, he is going to want to get its power, as well; everyone else seems to.”

“Then we’ll kill him, too,” Kazrack shrugged.  “Or die trying.”

The dwarf returned to the temple, while Martin and Dorn returned to the inn and the suite room, where the watch-mage had to pay off and calm down Huggert in order to keep their room.


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

Ratchis was not released until very late the next day, with a stern warning from Captain Lodestone.

“Next time we have to bring you in, you’ll be lucky to get off with just being exiled from Nikar,” the dwarf said.  “Understand?”

Ratchis grunted and went to sleep in Mercy’s house.


But things were quiet for a long time, and the Keepers of the Gate fell into a daily rhythm.  Ratchis continued his training with Mercy, taking a break in the evening to go over his reading with Martin, while taking some time to teach the watch-mage orcish.  Dorn, who often complained of being bored, spent his days sleeping late and playing King’s Men with some of the inn’s regulars.  Every couple of days he’d visit Ratchis and do some sparring to keep their skills sharp, and had prayer and religious study with the two friars.

In addition to his lessons with Ratchis, Martin trained daily with Visalyia.  With the gnome’s help, he _identified_ the magical items the party had collected on their journey from Gothanius.  (4)  

Kazrack continued his daily work on his full plate mail, and his training to access more powerful spells from his gods.  He embarrassedly admitted to Martin and Ratchis that dwarves could get charmed, albeit very rarely, after he asked another of the rune-throwers about it. 

Gunthar came and went as he pleased, showing up at the Inn of Friendly Flame every few nights, Nasilla in tow, to get very drunk and berate his companions.  

It was Roland that was seen the least.  He seemed to become withdrawn and moody, and it would not be until two days before the Keepers of the Gate were leave to Nikar that they would realize that he had left town without a word two days before.

*End of Session #72*

------------------------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	Way back in Session #29.

(2)	*DM’s Note:* While _protection from evil_ protected him from control during its duration, when the spell ran out Rindalith’s spell was still in effect.

(3)	The Keepers of the Gate had to pay thirty-five pieces of silver each, plus promise to pay for any damages to the inn and its property.

 (4) *DM’s Note:*  The small clay jugs held half a dozen draughts of _Blood of Ashronk_ (potions of _Aid_ enchanted by a priest of the orc god), while the rug was a _Prayer Rug of the Wayfarer_. Rolling objects up in the rug creates a pocket dimensional space that can allow it to hold objects of much greater weight and volume that would be normal.  Regardless of how much more than 25 pounds is rolled into the run it still always weighs 25 pounds, up to a weight of 500 lbs.  Also, the objects placed inside cannot individually be of larger size than the rug.  Whenever the rug is opened all the objects come spilling out.  You cannot take out one item at a time.


----------



## handforged

YAY! for another fix.  Thanks, mmen.

~hf


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## Manzanita

Well, I think the party should have talked with Rinadalith instead of attacking him.  I'm quite curious what he's up to.


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## mofos21

Talk?  That's not how this party deals with confrontations.  They prefer blood over banter.  Well, at least some of them do ...


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## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Well, I think the party should have talked with Rinadalith instead of attacking him.  I'm quite curious what he's up to.




Well, I can understand that the PCs were tired of "talking" to villains and having everything become morally murkier - esp. since the morality of "good guys" can be challenged to manipulate them into indecision, or acting with hesitancy.

At the same time, I was still surprised that it broke out into a fight so quickly after all the reinforcement of "fighting in town is bad, mmmkay?" I had done when the party first arrived and then after the incident at the cemetary.  Especially since the players know that I will carry out any consequences of their actions to the fullest.

They were lucky the fight went the way it did, because if there had been significant property damage, or if a townsperson had been hurt or killed the party might have found themselves, locked up, fleeing the law or exiled - all of which would have meant they would not have finished their training - which would have really sucked.


----------



## Ratchis

And for my $.02, Ratchis cannot abide charms so when put in that situation, Ratchis will not tolerate it. It is a blind spot of his that I enjoy playing. Hopefully I won't get the party killed with it, but I am not stopping now. 

By the way, this reaction is written into the write-up for my priesthood, but I can chose to play it as I see fit. There is an area of fanatical adherance for Ratchis.

As the above may indicate, my memory of the incident is that it was 90% Ratchis' fault. Oh, and another thought I recall from then is that there is no reason for us to continue to believe every blackheart wants to talk when they say talk especially when our most powerful party member had just joined Dorn in being charmed.


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## Manzanita

Kazrack the most powerful party member?  I would think Ratchis himself would take that honor.  One of those two anyway.

Ratchis' explanation makes sense.  Sometimes you've just got to play your PC, even though it gets you and your party in trouble.


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## mmu1

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Kazrack the most powerful party member?  I would think Ratchis himself would take that honor.  One of those two anyway.
> 
> Ratchis' explanation makes sense.  Sometimes you've just got to play your PC, even though it gets you and your party in trouble.




I was actually rather unhappy with that aspect of Ratchis' personality (which I knew about from reading some of the story hour) when I entered the game, since it made playing a Bard impossible as far as I was concerned, and it was one of my top character ideas. (What's the point of playing one if one of your party members will get furious with and refuse to associate with you for using mental compulsion of any kind?)

Kazrack and Ratchis are definitely the two most powerful characters - they're both warriors with 18 Str who also happen to be able to cast Bull's Strength on themselves in a world where stat-boosting items are extremely rare, they can heal, and they have darkvision. (Kazrack is ahead numerically in everything but skills, though - most notably in terms of AC and hitpoints, IIRC) 
I have to admit I'm probably unnecessarily competitive when it comes to this game, but at times I felt like my character was a sidekick - not quite as far behind as Dorn, but... Though what really hurt was that Gunthar, too, was both higher level and had higher stats - bullies and thugs are easier to put up with if you're not weaker than they are...


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## Ratchis

mmu1 said:
			
		

> I was actually rather unhappy with that aspect of Ratchis' personality (which I knew about from reading some of the story hour) when I entered the game, since it made playing a Bard impossible as far as I was concerned, and it was one of my top character ideas. (What's the point of playing one if one of your party members will get furious with and refuse to associate with you for using mental compulsion of any kind?)




Well, the DM can correct me if I am wrong, but I believe that any Friar would have a hard time travelling with someone that used such powers, most especially if it was on a semi-steady basis. In other words, another friar might not lose his or her temper the way Ratchis does, but I am pretty certain it would be almost as difficult a fit (in other words, blame the DM ).


----------



## el-remmen

Ratchis said:
			
		

> Well, the DM can correct me if I am wrong, but I believe that any Friar would have a hard time travelling with someone that used such powers, most especially if it was on a semi-steady basis. In other words, another friar might not lose his or her temper the way Ratchis does, but I am pretty certain it would be almost as difficult a fit (in other words, blame the DM ).




There is a wide interpretation of Nephthysian dogma regarding what constitutes compulsion.  Some folks are hardline (like Ratchis, I guess) some have a narrower interpretation it is easier to get around.

One friar might come across someone who is _charmed_ and immediately attack who think is responsible.  Another might wait and see what is going on before acting (I am not saying tolerate it, I am saying delay reaction in order to best act).

Some friars might see _fascinating_ or putting someone to _sleep_ as an evil mental compulsion against the ways of their god.  Others might see it as an acceptable form of dealing with foes (even if they might not do it themselves).

As for travelling with someone who uses such abilities - oh yeah, it would probably cause conflict - but not all conflict is bad - and some people might find it fun to play a character who is trying to use those abiltiies under the nose of a friar of Nephthys.  

It really depends on your style.


----------



## el-remmen

mmu1 said:
			
		

> I have to admit I'm probably unnecessarily competitive when it comes to this game, but at times I felt like my character was a sidekick - not quite as far behind as Dorn, but... Though what really hurt was that Gunthar, too, was both higher level and had higher stats - bullies and thugs are easier to put up with if you're not weaker than they are...




I'm sorry you felt that way.   I felt I tried my best to involve you in the plot at such a late date in the campaign, but yes, I think any PC entering an on-going campaign at such a late point is going to have a harder time feeling like a central part of what is going on and the group dynamic.

As for the "as powerful thing", I can only shrug and agree to disagree.  One "encounter" in particular (not mentioned to not spoil anything) makes me think that you feelings that Gunthar was "more powerful" misguided.

EDIT: Oh, and mmu, your character will be introduced in the next installment.


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## mmu1

el-remmen said:
			
		

> I'm sorry you felt that way.   I felt I tried my best to involve you in the plot at such a late date in the campaign, but yes, I think any PC entering an on-going campaign at such a late point is going to have a harder time feeling like a central part of what is going on and the group dynamic.
> 
> As for the "as powerful thing", I can only shrug and agree to disagree.  One "encounter" in particular (not mentioned to not spoil anything) makes me think that you feelings that Gunthar was "more powerful" misguided.
> 
> EDIT: Oh, and mmu, your character will be introduced in the next installment.




Hey, I'm certainly not saying you didn't try, or that I didn't have fun the majority of the time - it was as much the circumstances as anything, anyway. The primary reason I had for leaving was actually (believe it or not) the presidential election - politics tended to come up at the table an awful lot, and there was so much bitterness that November...


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## Manzanita

It is hard to keep track of people.  I'm reassured that mmu1's PC hasn't been introduced yet, because I couldn't think of who it would be.  In any case, El Remmen is an unabashed rat-bastard DM.  A PC's power is heavily dependent upon initial stat rolls.  This DM isn't going to go out of his way to give you some compensation for poor rolls.  You've got to make due with what you've got.  I must admit that it's bothered me some, too, that some PCs seem much more powerful than others.  But each one contributes, and most of the fun is just making the most of what you've got.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #73*

Isilem, the 9th of Quark – 565 H.E.

“Roland might be unreliable, but he is still trustworthy, if you understand the difference I am getting at,” Mercy said.

Kazrack, Ratchis, and Martin were having an early dinner with their cohort, Dorn and Ratchis’ fellow friar, Mercy, in a dim corner of the Inn of Friendly Flame.  The day before, Kazrack had finally finished his masterwork full plate mail armor and his priestly training, and he paid for a round in celebration.  

Outside, the middle of summer blazed on and there seemed to be few places in Nikar’s exposed plateaus where the withering sun could be avoided.  Martin and Ratchis’ training had finished a day or two earlier, and preparations had started for the long overland journey back to Gothanius.  However, when they sent word to Roland to inform him there was no reply.  Martin the Green visited the Temple of Bast and was told that the priest had left town a day or so earlier, saying he had to take care of business.  

“But he could be charmed,” Ratchis said.  “We told him everything.  He has information that if used against us could be deadly.”

“There is nothing we can do about it now,” Kazrack said.  “The question is, do we wait for him to return?”

“We have no idea where he is or what he is doing, or even if he will be back,” Ratchis replied.  “We leave as scheduled.”

The others agreed.  

“I can always send him after you if he returns after you’ve left,” Mercy offered.

“I am going to scout the ways of out of town and see if I can pick up his trail,” Ratchis said.  “Just to see if I can figure out where he might have been headed.”

“I sent word by faultless to Alexandra the Lavender not too long after we arrived in Nikar,” Martin said. (1)  “I was hoping to hear from her by now.  In fact, I hoped she might even come herself so we might discuss the situation and get her advice.” 

“We have to plan as if we were on our own,” Ratchis said. “Because we are…”

“Well, I will send another message, this one to Daniel, the castle-steward, to let him know we are returning, and about our run-in with Rindalith.” (2)

“Maybe you shouldn’t mention our return,” Ratchis suggested.

“I am just afraid our absence has been noted and we might be in violation of our contracts,” Martin said.

“I can live with that,” Ratchis replied.

Kazrack shrugged his shoulders.

“After we are done here, let’s go take care of whatever last minute purchases and preparations we have to make and then meet back here to discuss what kinds of spells we are going to prepare while on the road,” Ratchis suggested.

Kazrack nodded, and poured most of a mug of mead down his throat, the rest was soaked into his beard, now sporting more rune-covered ceramic and stone beads woven into it.

“Well, I plan to prepare the spell of _Detect Scrying_ daily,” Martin said. “I have enough components to do it every day and it’ll last nearly two months.  I figured that as we get closer to the time for the entrance to the Maze to be revealed, we can afford even less to be spied upon by Richard or anyone else.”

 Ratchis went to the bar and get another flagon of ale for the table.  The common room was empty except for two old-timers at the far end of the bar nursing their ales, and a young man leaning in and speaking with Huggert over the bar.  He was not sitting, and threw Ratchis a suspicious glance as the half-orc approached.

“Why are you looking for him?  You don’t have some kind of grudge against him and his folks, do ya?” the inn-keep was asking.

“No,” the young man slid a small stack of silver coins across the bar. “I was sent by a member of his order to help him.”

“Okay, because we don’t want people taking care of their dirty laundry around here, if you get my meaning,” Huggert did not sound convinced, but he took the silver.  “Maybe, you tell me what you want and I’ll pass the message to him.  Tell me where I can tell him to find you.”

“I guess I’ll be staying here,” the young man looked around, as if the place did not hold to his standards in some way. “If the watch-mage is here, I guess I will run into him eventually.”

Ratchis ordered the drinks and looked over at the young man once again.  Huggert looked back and forth and then pointed to the half-orc.

“You should speak to this man,” Huggert said, and then turned to Ratchis. “If this is trouble you’d better take it out of town.”

“You know Martin the Green?” the young man asked.  He could not keep a look of disgust from washing over his face as he took in Ratchis.   

“Who’s asking?” Ratchis grunted.

The young man frowned.  His hands went to his belt where long sword was hung low and peace-knotted and long nasty-looking dagger was tucked into it as well.  

“I am Logan Naismith,” the young man said, not offering a hand. “I was sent by Alexandra the Lavender, a member of his order.”

Logan had the olive skin, square jaw and lean stature of a Herman-Lander.  He was a few inches shorter than six feet tall, and had close cropped black curls on his head.  The few mousy whiskers on his chin showed his youth, but Ratchis saw something in his brown eyes that seemed wizened by experience.  Logan wore travel-stained black studded leather armor, and had dropped his pack by the door.   

“You have a letter?” Ratchis asked.

Logan hesitated.  “No… But I have things she told me that she said only he and she would know,” he finally said.

Ratchis sized up the young man for another half-minute and then gestured with his chin for him to follow.  Half way back to the table, the half-orc stopped and looked down at Logan.

“I’m called Ratchis, by the way, and if this is a trick I promise you will regret it.”

Logan Naismith smirked and rolled his eyes, but nodded.

Logan joined them and while he begged off at first when offered some food, he ate hungrily after he finally accepted. He spoke with them while dunking thick slabs of bread in tomato soup; a wedge of cheese half-melted in it.  

“I have come to Derome-Delem from Teamsburg,” Logan said.

“Teamsburg?  That’s Neergaard?” Martin asked.

“No, Herman Land,” Logan lowered his head and slurped soup from the bowl.

“Oh, _that_ Teamsburg,” Martin said, his voice filling with pity. (3)

  “So you just happened to have come to Derome-Delem all the way from Herman Land?  Or were drawn here by the promises of the King of Gothanius like everyone else?”   Ratchis asked, oblivious to the significance.

“I came here to visit a friend of my father,” Logan replied.  “Alexandra the Lavender.”

“Who is your father?” Martin asked.

“Allistair the Coal, watch-mage of Teamsburg,” Logan said.

“Are you a mage?” Martin’s brow furrowed.

“No, my brother is an alumnus,” Logan said.  “The Academy was not for me.”

The barmaids had started their shift, and one of them brought round another tray full of mugs and pitchers of mead, greeting Kazrack with blushing faces.

Logan made a face of displeasure when he saw the hairy-chinned broad young women.

“My father sent me to Alexandra to give her whatever help I could, and the help she had for me to do was to come seeking you out and help you how I can in what you are doing,” Logan said.  “She said you had sent her a message explaining your difficulties.”

“That is putting it lightly,” Martin replied, with skepticism  “Did she send anything else?”

“We should not discuss them in public,” Logan said, looking around and then taking a long sip of ale.

“Aye, let us grab a bottle and return to my home,” Mercy said, standing.  “I have some questions of my own.”

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

At Mercy’s house, she cast _detect evil_ to scan Logan’s aura, with the young man’s consent, and Ratchis followed it up with a _detect charm_ spell.  Both came up negative, though Mercy noticed the faintest lingering hint of it on Martin the Green.  

“So what did Alexandra tell you?’ Martin asked, after he received a ring from Logan; a ring that was certainly Alexandra’s.

“Mostly that I should come help you however I could, and she told me about this rogue watch-mage named Richard the Red,” Logan began.  “There have been agents of the Academy looking for him for a while, though they thought he was in Thricia.”

“We are very familiar with him,” Kazrack said.

Logan shrugged. “According to Alexandra, there is talk of his arranging for his own son to be kidnapped by someone or other, and later when the son wasn’t cooperative he conspired to have the boy’s betrothed kidnapped as well.”

“Any other Academy news?” Martin asked.

“They chose a new Archmage, Aemil, formerly the Aquamarine,” Logan added. (4)

“Okay, so what else did she say? Did she send any information about the Maze?” Martin asked.

“The what?” Logan was puzzled.

“Hurgun’s Maze.”

“Uh, I think I might have heard of it before,” Logan scratched his head, and shrugging. “My father probably mentioned it some time when he was going on and on showing off all the lore he knows.”

 “She didn’t tell you anything about the Maze?  You don’t bring information about it?”

Logan shook his head.

“What about the drow witches?”

“Drow are a myth,” Logan replied.

Kazrack slapped his own forehead in frustration.

“Hopefully, you will be able to go along believing that,” Martin replied.

Logan frowned and looked at each of the Keepers of the Gate in turn; puzzled.

“What else did she tell you to tell me?” Martin asked. 

“Well, it seems that there is a rumor coming out of Gothanius about a rogue watch-mage and his party of non-humans. And how he has been neglecting his duties for his own agenda in Gothanius.”

“Yes, Richard the Red,” Kazrack said.

“No, Martin the _Green_,” Logan pointed at the watch-mage, and then at Ratchis and finally at the dwarf. 

Martin’s shoulders sagged.  

After a long moment of silence, Martin stood.  “I guess I best go send that message to Daniel right away in hopes of salvaging my reputation even a little bit.”

“Write it down and keep talking with Logan. I will take it for you,” Mercy offered.  Martin agreed.

“Anyway, they know me in this town, I’ll get a fair price,” Mercy added with a wink as she left with the letter a few minutes later.

“I don’t know what else there is to tell you, except that Alexandra was able to dig up some old letters from the former watch-mage of Bountiful that seemed to suggest the first king of Gothanius made some kind of pact with demons for power,” Logan said, and shrugged his shoulders, as if he did not quite believe it.

“We had suspected such a thing,” Martin commented.

“The only other Gothanius new she gave me was how the Nauglimir Dwarven Merchant Consortium’s relations with Gothanius are strained.  The work on the road is still going on, but at a slowed rate because of some disagreement about some community of gnomes in an area the humans want to expand into.”

“Is pressure from the Consortium going to keep Gothanius from doing so?” Martin asked.

“I have no idea,” Logan said.  “She said she might send more information later, I can only assume by magical means.”

“What about news of the world beyond Derome-Delem?” Martin asked.

“The war is going rotten,” Logan said.  “There are fewer battles.  The Herman Land navy cannot get through with enough force to capture the islands, but the few troops that have gotten through have managed to burn so many fields, before they’ve been slaughtered they say the common people and most of the lesser nobility are near starving.”

“That sounds like Herman Land is in the stronger position,” Kazrack said.

“Maybe, but they have almost no navy left and pirates pick around the western islands in numbers rivaling the legends of the old days of the Pirate Kings,” Logan said.

There was an abrupt knock on the door and the n Gunthar’s voice came echoing from outside.

“Hey, jackasses!  Get out here!  I have something to show you!”

Outside they found the Neergaardian holding the reins of wooly beast of burden with a long neck and a pronounced snout.  It was brown and white and its big lips chewed incessantly.

“Maaaaa!” the beast bleated.

“It’s a llama!” Gunthar said. (5)

“I know it’s a llama,” Ratchis said. “Do you know how to take care of this thing?”

“How hard can it be?” Gunthar replied.  “I figured we needed it to carry heavy stuff.”

“Okay,” Ratchis replied.

“I’m glad I have your permission, oh pious priest of freedom,” Gunthar said, snidely.

Ratchis growled.

“They had some of these beasts in Garvan,” Martin said.  “In Thricia we use yaks.”  

“You going back to Gothanius?” Logan asked.

“Oh! I know you just arrived, but yes, we are leaving tomorrow,” Martin replied to Logan, but looked at Ratchis.

“We’re not delaying,” Ratchis said. “And we haven’t decided if he is coming with us.  It’s dangerous.”

“I’m sure Alexandra would not have sent him to aid us if he were unable to take care of himself,” Martin reasoned.

“Who in the hells is this yahoo?” Gunthar said, looking at Logan up and down.

“I do not know that he is a ‘yahoo’,” Kazrack replied.

“I am Logan,” the young man said, frowning. “I have been sent to aid Martin.”

“You coming along with us, too?” Gunthar asked.

“That has not been determined for sure yet,” Ratchis interjected.

“Damn, you guys’ll let any old poofter into the party these days,” Gunthar shook his head. “You gonna tell him all our secrets before he sneaks off, like ya did the last one?”

“What is he talking about?” Logan’s sneered; his body visibly tensed up.

“Gunthar here has never learned manners,” Martin explained.

“Though maybe one day someone will teach him the hard way,” Kazrack added.  “I would have done it, but the law here in town forbids fisticuffs.”

“You still wanna have a go, Stumpy?” Gunthar asked.  “I can squeeze you in for tomorrow afternoon, after a short appointment with shrimpy here’s momma.”  He pointed at Logan and winked.

“Gunthar!” Ratchis roared.

“If you ever speak about my mother again there is going to be a problem,” Logan said, flatly.

“What? You gonna cry now, baby?  Need your nappy changed?” Gunthar laughed.

“Perhaps I will take you up on that,” Kazrack said through gritted teeth.  He rubbed his tightened fist with his other hand.

“Yes, that is exactly what we need, to be fighting among ourselves out in the wilderness,” Martin said. He turned to Gunthar. “You are going to have to learn how to treat people or else we are going to have to ask you to leave the group.”

“Oh!  Marty’s grown a pair all of a sudden,” Gunthar continued to laugh, holding his stomach in an exaggerated fashion. He looked at Logan as he spoke “I guess I should pick on someone my own size, right Shorty?”  Gunthar winked again.  

Logan’s eyes shot daggers at Gunthar as the Neergaardian, pulled the llama around.

“I’ll meet you tossers back here before dawn, so you can latch whatever gear to Fearless here afore we go,” Gunthar said, leading the llama off.

“Fearless?” Martin queried.

“Ya chose a stupid name for yourselves.  I figured I’d keep the old one alive, for as long at least until we are forced to eat him,” Gunthar exploded with laughter, and was soon gone.

“Why do you travel with him?” Logan asked, finally speaking again.

“I don’t know,” said Kazrack.

“He is good in a fight,” Ratchis said. “And he is a burden placed upon me by Nephthys.”

“Do you really think so?” Kazrack asked.

Ratchis shrugged.  

There was a long silence.

“Was that a joke?” Dorn asked.

“Yes,” Ratchis replied sheepishly.

“Dwarven humor is better,” Kazrack said.  “Here, listen to this one…”

Everyone groaned and went back inside.

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

After a supper prepared by Mercy in honor of their coming trip, Dorn took Logan to the inn for a few drinks and so he could see a little more of the town before having to leave the next day.  In reality, it was an excuse for the rest of the party to discuss the new perspective companion without his presence.

“Are you sure this is not a trick, or that he is not a spy of some kind,” Kazrack asked Martin. “Could not Richard the Red have provided him with information?”

“He had a ring from Alexandra the Lavender with her _arcane mark_ upon it,” Martin replied.

“And that cannot be forged?” Ratchis asked.

“Not unless someone wants to incur the Curse of Thoth,” Martin said. (6)

 Kazrack rolled his eyes, unconvinced.

“Well, if he is a spy, then let him come with us so we can keep an eye on _him_,” Ratchis said. “But if he is not, I am concerned that the road we travel and what we go do is too dangerous for him.  He does look young.”

”He must be older than either Derek or Jeremy were,” Kazrack said.

“Yes, and they are both dead,” Ratchis replied.

“What do propose we do?” Martin asked, frowning.

“He and I can spar a little when we get out of town and we can get a gauge of his abilities,” Ratchis suggested.

“If you feel it must be done,” Martin sighed. “Let us just make sure we do it when we are not too far from town so if we do need to send him back he will not have too far to travel on his own.”

“And D’nar, if he beats you, do we get to send you back to town?” Kazrack shoved the half-orc with his elbow, but Ratchis just growled.

They spent another hour going over lists of provisions and pouring over Martin growing collection of maps.  It was decided they would take the western route out of town to avoid the Black Orc lands, though what little information they could glean of the foothills northwest of Nikar suggested the presence of giants.

“We’ll be saving a day or three by that route, but when I think of passing through mountains with rock-throwing giants…” Ratchis began.

“I know, exhilarating, isn’t it?” Kazrack’s eyes gleamed.

“Not exactly what I was thinking,” Ratchis replied.

“I have gained a spell that will be useful for avoiding such encounter,” Martin said.  “An _arcane eye_ I can send way ahead of us, or up to a high point to get a good view of which routes are safest.”

Soon afterwards, Kazrack left to return to the temple and say his good-byes to the friends and peers he had met there, and spent his final night on dwarven consecrated ground and pray to Hodonar for a safe trip.  Martin returned to the inn, where Dorn was drinking in the common room, and Logan was already asleep, exhausted from his own journey. The watch-mage slipped on _Lacan’s Demise_ and, after studying his spellbooks for another hour, went to bed.

Back at Mercy’s house, Ratchis went over his pack one last time, making sure it was packed for ease of long travel, and that what he might need often was easily accessible.  As he was about to climb into the loft to bed, Mercy called to him from her own bed.

“Ratchis?”

“Yes?”

“I think we should spend the night together,” Mercy said.

”We do that every night,” Ratchis replied, puzzled.

“No, I mean… Come here,” Mercy said, and she blew out the candle by her bed.   “There is no reason why friends should not share a close moment together before one is about to leave to what might be his death.”

Ratchis went to her.

------------------------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	_Faultless_ are message-bearing birds known for their unerring arrival.  They are very expensive.
(2)	In Session #29, Daniel asked the party to retrieve the queen’s diary from Rindalith.

(3)	The City of Teamsburg, an important northeastern port in the Kingdom of Herman Land, was the site of the first strike sneak attack on the part of the Black Islands Barony that incited the current civil war.  More than half the city burned and thousands died.  

(4)	Upon accepting the position of Archmage of the Academy, the watch-mage drops the color associated with his name.

(5) Llamas are commonly used as beasts of burden and even to ride by the people who live in the hilly and mountainous areas of Derome-Delem.  Hill dwarf communities of this island also commonly use them.  The broader alpaca breed of llama are also found all over El Reino Unido de Familias Superiores.

(6) Wizards arcane marks are protected by the power of Thoth, God of Knowledge and Magic.  Those who forge one are said to become feebleminded.


----------



## mmu1

Hehe... I don't remember being quite _that_ surly... Still, finally...


----------



## Manzanita

Welcome Logan.  I suppose we must guess what class you are...letsee.  This party could really use a rogue.  Probably a fighter/rogue.  I was hoping we'd learn a bit more from Alexandra.  Oh well...

on the road again...


----------



## mmu1

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Welcome Logan.  I suppose we must guess what class you are...letsee.  This party could really use a rogue.  Probably a fighter/rogue.  I was hoping we'd learn a bit more from Alexandra.  Oh well...
> 
> on the road again...





Thanks.

Believe me, I wish I'd been given more information as well... My character's reaction to being questioned about news from Alexandra (and having apparently been given a lot of info that the party didn't seem to consider all that relevant) was "I rode all this way through an armpit of the universe for _this_? Watch-mages... God, I hate my family."


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## Ratchis

I am sure that was the exact feeling the DM was trying to elicit.  And you seemed pretty surly early on but maybe not that surly and not that early. Dramatic license and all that you know.


----------



## Manzanita

Is this war in Hermanland relevant to this plot?  Was/is there another campaign going on down there?


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## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Is this war in Hermanland relevant to this plot?  Was/is there another campaign going on down there?




Well, aside from the fact that it is the war the majority of the original party was fleeing from, and that most of the other dragon-hunters were as well, I like to use it as the recurring reminder that while the party is off in the armpit of Aquerra, in some frontier of Derome-Delem, the rest of the world (the "real" world to those who are from there) goes on without them.


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## mmu1

*Logan's Story*

BTW - I don't know if this is the place for it (if not, let me know, and I'll edit it out, or we can move it) but I figured I'd post Logan's story while we're on the subject of the surly little cuss:

_         With one quick motion, Logan drew his dagger from its sheath and across the hand of the thug blocking his path. The man let go of his blade and dropped to the floor gasping in pain, but Barret the wool merchant had already used the delay to waddle out the back door with his remaining bodyguard in tow, and was screaming his head off for the guard. Logan made to follow, but now Mathis the barkeep stood in his way. 
"So eager to make yourself an appointment at the gallows, boy? Get the hell out of my house, unless you aim to kill me too."
Logan stared at him for a long moment, then quietly turned around, planted a solid kick in the stomach of the man whimpering over his bloody hand, and left through the front accompanied by the sound of retching and a few jeers from the braver members of the morning crowd. The guards were slow these days, but not so slow he could get to Barret 
before they would - it was time to head home, and see if his father would finally make good on his often-repeated threat of throwing him to the wolves...

            This wasn't the first time he was going home to be berated, but it might be the last. A rich merchant's son needed the help of a temple last night to get his guts back in, and things have only been getting more complicated. The young fool, dressed like a minor noble with his pretty jeweled toy of a sword ought to have known better than to draw it - he couldn't use the damn thing any better than one of the dirty peasants Logan compared him to. If he had spent half the money he wasted on the finery on a decent teacher, perhaps he'd have recognized the blade Logan carried, and wouldn't have ended up with twelve inches of his own sword stuck in his stomach.

            Logan stopped for a moment to look at the dagger Jorun gave him, and ran his fingers over the intricately carved handle.  His own teacher had been a survivor of the Pohjola fighting pits, and a living warning to any would-be fighter. Blind in one eye, missing several fingers, and barely able to walk some days – but unlike other teachers he might have gone to, willing to teach a twelve year old boy in exchange for a few silver and a steady supply of strong liquor – and able to teach not how to make pretty forms with a foil, but how to fight – and kill.

	Not that it earned him much respect in his father’s eyes… The man was practical enough - a leftover of his supposed adventuring days, Logan thought - to recognize a useful skill, but if you couldn’t put it down on a sheaf of paper, it didn’t impress Alistair the bloody Coal very much.  Not since his wife had died.  Although his skill with a blade did get him out of Teamsburg a dozen times, once his father realized he was likely never going to learn a trade, very handy to have along on a dark road, and too much trouble to be left to his own devices in the city.

	The last was true enough, he reflected. His older brother was good at keeping his temper and staying out of trouble… Which is why Adric was now learning magic in the Academy, busy as a good little drone, and he was dodging the guards. After Logan stuck the little merchant bastard, the boy’s father had the bright idea to send half a dozen thugs after him, to leave him broken and bleeding in some alley.  They at least knew what to make of Logan’s scars and the calluses left by hundreds of hours of sword practice – but were too greedy, or too confident to let things be, or perhaps they thought he was still as drunk as the smell suggested, and so two of them died - one before he even got his club up for a swing.  Another lost some fingers, yet another… He thought about the feel of metal grinding on bone, and shuddered. Jorun, if he were still alive, would have probably said something about having enough bits around for a necklace. Those men had cousins, and brothers… the docks were swarming with them. Which meant more would come, and he would have to kill some of the damn fools again. For the first time since he ran the fop through over a day ago he felt ill, and had to take several gasping breaths to keep his breakfast down. Perhaps it really was time to go to his father, and see what the world outside of Teamsburg had to offer…_


----------



## Manzanita

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Well, aside from the fact that it is the war the majority of the original party was fleeing from, and that most of the other dragon-hunters were as well, I like to use it as the recurring reminder that while the party is off in the armpit of Aquerra, in some frontier of Derome-Delem, the rest of the world (the "real" world to those who are from there) goes on without them.




Oh.  I do remember that rather important fact.  It sounds like an interesting, though.  Perhaps that should be the setting for the PbP game you're planning to start


----------



## handforged

I like Logan already.  Considering that Kazrack is the only one of the original party remaining, it is weird to think back that far.  I'm interested to see where this all goes.

~hf


----------



## Gold Roger

Wow, I've finally catched up.
I must say I've found your storyhour to be quite inspiring. I like it that you gow all out on the PC's, though I prefer a tad more lightheartedness in my own campaigns.
Still, great stuff. It's bad that so many players had to leave, especially the loss of Beorth, he was propably my favorite PC in the story, but I'm curious of all the new faces and how the story concludes.


----------



## el-remmen

Gold Roger said:
			
		

> Wow, I've finally catched up.
> I must say I've found your storyhour to be quite inspiring. I like it that you gow all out on the PC's, though I prefer a tad more lightheartedness in my own campaigns.
> Still, great stuff. It's bad that so many players had to leave, especially the loss of Beorth, he was propably my favorite PC in the story, but I'm curious of all the new faces and how the story concludes.




Glad you could join us. . .     I know it must have taken some time to catch up!

As for the lightheartedness, I really feel that it was the characters (esp. after the death of Jeremy and Chance) that reinforce the lack of it - not anything endemic to Aquerra or this particular campaign - there has been lightheartedness in past Aquerra campaigns and there have even been a few here and there in Out of the Frying Pan - just not as much when you have a bunch of sourpusses like Ratchis, Kazrack, Martin and Beorth in the same group.


----------



## Dr. NRG

I am finally caught back up again.  Well done as usual, senior frog.  I am curious to see the conclusion of the grand story arc.  

NRG


----------



## el-remmen

*wiki wiki wiki wiki*

Hey all, just dropping a note to let you know that I am working on the next installment, but since we are playing a make-up session tonight, I won't get a chance to finish it until sometime during the week, or next weekend at the latest.

In the meantime, why not check out the Aquerra wiki at: http://aquerra.wikispaces.org/ ?

I (with the help of some of my players) have been transferring over all the info from the Aquerra website, plus all the files from the abandoned Aquerra Player's Guide, and filling in the holes  and revising things - eventually all the information about Aquerra  available to players will be up there (something made much easier by the collective nature of the wiki), including stuff from old issues of the now defunct Aquerra quarterly newsletter, _Thoth's Libram_ - and as much information as possible detailing the past campaigns that were played there, like the ground-breaking _Sign of Four_, and the legendary _The Oath_.

Feel free to post any questions about anything you see there in this thread.


----------



## Gold Roger

Great idea with the wiki, but when I want to view it I only get an empty window!
Am I doing something wrong, or is it the wiki?(I'm using mozilla firefox)


----------



## el-remmen

Gold Roger said:
			
		

> Great idea with the wiki, but when I want to view it I only get an empty window!
> Am I doing something wrong, or is it the wiki?(I'm using mozilla firefox)




The wiki was down most of the afternoon and part of the evening. . . Should be good now.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #73 (part ii)*

“Don’t you think that’s enough, D’nar?” Kazrack asked, suppressing a smile.

Gunthar, on the other hand, was bent over double, guffawing and holding his sides.

Ratchis stood, dragon-hilted great sword in both his hands, in a tense combat ready pose.  A huge welt was being to swell up on the side of his face near his left eye, and a light trickle of blood poured down his forearm from a wrist cut.  Sweat streamed down his face, zig-zagging over the bumps and craters of his orcish features.

Logan stood five or six feet away, long sword held loosely in his hand before him and swaying back and forth slowly as if keeping time, his off-hand moving and back and forth from the hilt to stretched out to the right for balance.  His eyes were narrow slits, and his legs were slightly bent, as he bounced a bit, ready for the half-orc to try and strike again.

Ratchis lowered his sword. 

“He can handle himself,” the half-orc said with a sigh.

“Aw! I wanted to see Snuffles bleeding on the ground!” Gunthar grinned.  He turned to Logan.  “You did good, kid!”

“Why was this really necessary?” Logan asked.

“Because we go to face demons and other foul and powerful creatures, and we could not in good conscience allow you along without knowing if you could handle yourself in a fight,” Kazrack said.

“Can demons be killed?” Logan asked.

Kazrack nodded.

“Then there’s no problem,” Logan said, smirking.  “I know how to kill things.”

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

Just after dawn the Keepers of the Gate had left Nikar by the western road, and had turned northward with the town less than a half-mile behind them.  They marched along narrow paths that wound between farmsteads; many atop carved plateaus draped with bright green.   At first they passed locals with wagon and wheelbarrows bringing things to market in Nikar, or the occasional stray farm dog begging for treats, but by the end of the second day they walked through a thick forest wedged into foothills of the nearby mountains.

They marched from dawn to dusk, taking short breaks to eat and stretch.  Gunthar led Fearless the llama for an hour or two a day, but usually the task fell to Martin the Green who had a way with animals no one had noticed before.

“It’s a pack animal.  I grew up on a farm,” Martin shrugged.

“Just remember,” Gunthar said to everyone. “Try not to use any fire magics, or bring any kind of fire or heat near Fearless.”

“Why?” Ratchis asked, suspiciously.

“Uh… he doesn’t like it,” Gunthar replied lamely.

Ratchis opened his mouth to say something, but Martin interrupted. “He’s right, Ratchis. For once, take his word for it.”

The half-orc turned his suspicious eye to the watch-mage, but said nothing more.

The third night, the full moon allowed Ratchis to disappear into the woods and return dragging an elk into the camp.  They decided to rest half the next day to allow him to butcher it.

They spent their evenings continuing Ratchis’ reading lessons with Martin by candlelight, and occasionally the two of them would spend an entire watch whispering in orcish.

Martin also spent some time to practice using some spells, surprising Kazrack one morning by altering himself to look a lot like Tanweil had when in his true draconic form.

Logan was quiet much of the time, save for when he and Dorn practiced saying the dwarven word for light with Kazrack in order to operate the brass medallions that the dwarf had crafted for the party, etched with the dwarven _rune of light_. (1)

 On the fifth day of marching, the forest suddenly dwindled out into nothing.  A nasty blue-green blight was on all the trees on the north side and soon the Keepers of the Gate found themselves in a barren expanse of tall jagged rock cracked in many places by tiny streams coming from the northeast.

They cut east following the main stream back up into the mountains, hoping to avoid having to do any actual climbing for as long as possible and taking advantage of the clean cold water to bathe and refill their skins.  


Isilem, the 16th of Quark – 565 H.E.

The light of Ra’s Glory beat down on the Keepers of the Gate as they marched single file through a narrow stream with broad sloping sides that turned more directly northward.  Mid-day seemed to stretch out for hours, as they sucked down quart after quart of water from their skins.  The stream they followed had become a narrow trickle of gritty stuff, and even though they had rested not long before to eat some lunch, exhaustion weighed down their legs. 

Much earlier in the day they had noticed a column of smoke that emerged from the haze a mile or two to the east.  They did not investigate, eager to avoid meeting up with anyone.  Now the ravine cut three ways; the stream heading east, as the land before them in all directions rose up into barren bluffs.  The center way broadened even as the walls became steeper, and the way to the west was the narrowest.

With an arcane word, Martin the Green shifted into his reptilian humanoid form modeled for Tanweil, and soon was breathing heavily as he flapped the small leathery wings with all his might; jerking back and forth awkwardly in the air when he tried to turn.

With another word he was invisible and gained a great deal of height to make slow wide circles and gauge the lay of the land.

Martin could see the narrow path to the east turned widely and then seemed to suddenly end at the foot of a craggy black hill.  Clouds were rolling in from the west, obscurity visibility in that direction, but the broad ravine directly ahead made him gasp.

There was a collection of large stone houses atop the eastern bluff, and what looked like the remains of a curving wall, now only several huge stones here and there.

Smoke rose from a hole in the roof of one of the stone homes.

On the western bluff was some huge dug out area that seemed like it was once lined with a wall as well; though there were no intact buildings on that side.  The west side of the ravine itself had large, once elaborate steps, now worn by years of weather.  Halfway up the stair stood a giant pair of stone legs, the top of the statue apparently long gone.

Martin took an awkward swoop eastward to get a closer look at that avenue, and found the trickle of stream emerged from a cave that led beneath the black craggy hill.

He turned and gained some more height again to enjoy the quiet of the wind, and then returned to the others.  He descended and then finally landed. And then re-appeared.

Fearless spat and then coughed out a “maaa!”, kicking a leg back angrily.  

The watch-mage reached out and scratched the llama’s head and it calmed again.  He told the others what he had seen.

“I don’t like it,” Ratchis said. “Someone or something could live in those houses or be in that pit or whatever.  If we continue north they could ambush us.  But I don’t think we should risk the cave. The western route is too narrow to be safe.  What does everyone else think?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say ask that,” Martin said, stunned.

“Ask what?” Ratchis said, confused.

“Asking what we all think,” Martin replied, with a smirk.

Ratchis snarled.

“I’m against going underground,” Logan said.  “We have no idea where it comes out.  It could be a dead end, for all we know.”

“A good point, but I am always a proponent for going underground,” Kazrack said.

“Dorn?” Ratchis turned to his henchman.

The shaggy-haired man rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged.

“I think Martin should make me invisible and I should go scout ahead myself, on foot,” Ratchis said.

“If you feel we must…” Kazrack said.

“Just hurry your pig-ass up,” Gunthar said, putting an oat-bag around the llama’s head.  “Unless you think this is a safe enough place to camp.”

“The loudmouth has a point,” Logan said.

“Yeah, and I keep it in my pants,” Gunthar laughed.

“I’ll be quick,” Ratchis said, as Martin cast the spell.

“How long will it last?” Ratchis asked. 

“Nearly an hour and a half,” the mage said. (2)

Ratchis took off for the bluff and climbed up quickly, driving his big calloused hands into the earth when he could not find a rocky handhold.  He rolled over atop the mossy bluff and let out a long low breath and stood.  He reminded himself that he was invisible as he spotted the stone houses about a quarter mile ahead.  But the site of them was quickly washed way by the westward clouds that had finally rolled in with cool showers.

The half-orc made a dash for the buildings and then slowed up when they came into sight again, creeping along with all the speed he dared, hoping between the _invisibility_ spell and the rain, he would not be noticed.

The stone houses were made of rounded slabs of sedimentary rock that was grayed and worn by centuries of weather.  Ratchis could tell that the stones had been brought here from somewhere else.  They did not match the scrabble earth and shattered rock of the bluffs.  It appeared there had once been many more of these stone homes, but now they were just piled slabs of stone, and even the ones in the best conditions had sunk partially into the ground.  

One tall house was over twenty feet high, and it seemed like a great deal of it had sunken into the bluff, meaning it had once been even taller.  There was cracked window casement on floor level that made for a jagged twelve-foot tall entrance.  Damp smoke rose from the crack and from unseen hole in the roof. 

Ratchis made his way over there, and put his back to the right side of the crack.  From within he heard what sounded like some kind of humming punctuated with grunts.  He leaned over, still cautious of being seen out of instinct, despite his invisibility, and looked in.  The floor of the stone house was sunken another twenty feet, and a small smoldering fire in one corner spat gray smoke.  There was a large figure wrapped up in a tattered piece of hide.  Ratchis guessed its height at about nine feet.

Suddenly it sat up, and looked to its right.  Ratchis could see that what had once been the foundation of the house was cracked open to connect to some kind of huge caves or tunnels beneath the houses.  In stepped a crouched figure that had to be at least 11 feet tall.  It had stooped shoulders and a slopping forehead, and arms that seemed too long for its body and absently scratching its side.  It was a female giant of some kind, wrapped in a tattered hide.  She bellowed at the smaller figure, that Ratchis could now see had yellow skin and a large craggy head; an ogre.

The ogre threw off its blanket and with fear in its large yellow eyes began to climb up towards the crack.  Ratchis quickly retreated.

The ogre ran to another of the houses and soon returned with an arm full of wood and a sack over its shoulder.  Ratchis watched from a safe distance, and when it was back in the house, he crept over to check the other places.  Most were empty.  Some smelled strongly of feces and rot.  Others seemed a place to store wood and ratty furs.  The soft ground gave sign to his trained eye that at least half dozen ogres and a few giants walked back and forth here with some regularity.

He headed back southward and climbed down, and made his way to the steps on the other side of the ravine to check the great pit up on that bluff, before returning to the rest of the party.

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

“The pit on the other bluff looks like it used to be some kind of forge or foundry,” Ratchis explained. “There are bits of raw ore here and there, scorch marks, rusted and worn bits of old tools and even a weathered anvil that is over six feet tall and must weigh thousands of pounds, bolted to a rock.”

“Giants…” Kazrack muttered.

“So what now?  We go kill these giants and ogres, find what they have of value and move on?” Gunthar asked.

“No,” Ratchis spat.

“They’re giants!” Gunthar replied.  “Evil, waylaying, baby-eating, stupid as a rock, giants!  We’d be doing the world a favor!”

“I hate to say this, but I agree,” Kazrack said.  “These are the ancient enemy of my people.  It would be good to slay them all.”

“I think you are forgetting that _I_ am the ancient enemy of your people, too,” Ratchis said.  “If are to go by tradition.  These giants haven’t done anything to us, and we cannot risk being delayed.  If we miss when the opening to Hurgun’s Maze is revealed, who knows if there will be another opportunity?”

“And we cannot know for certain how many there are,” Martin the Green added.  “Remember how tough the fight against that one stone giant was.” (3)

“Okay, so we try to slip past,” Logan said.  “But they will probably attack if they see us, and throw rocks from atop the bluffs; this is, if anything I have heard about giants is true.  I’ve never encountered any before.”

“Don’t worry, kid,” Gunthar replied.  “We’ll get Martin to hold your hand as we march if yer scared.”

Logan stared down the Neergaardian.

“Your face’ll get stuck that way if you are not careful,” Gunthar warned.  “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that?  And trust me your mom knows about making faces; if you know what I mean…”

“I warned you about that…” Logan began, reaching for the hilt of his sword.

“Enough! Now is not the time for this,” Ratchis admonished them both.  He turned to Martin the Green.  “Martin, can you make us all invisible?”

The watch-mage shook his head. “I am limited in the amount of components I have.  Even if I took the time to re-prepare some spells (4), I do not think it is worth it to spend all the Thrician gum at once.” (5)

“I guess we are going to have to go kill the giants, then,” Kazrack concluded. “Get them before they get us.”

“No, it means we’ll wait here and rest while we can and then move out just before dawn under cover of darkness,” Ratchis pointed.  “The sun will come up over there casting shadows in that ravine that we can use to our advantage.”

“Maa!” Fearless the Llama said.

”And you will cast _silence_ on the llama,” Ratchis added, turning to Kazrack.

The dwarf nodded.

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

Osilem, the 17th of Quark – 565 H.E.

It was still raining when they crept out just before dawn.  The llama protested, as Martin pulled it along, but no sound emerged from its twisted mouth, as Kazrack’s spell had been cast on its harness.  Gunthar lagged behind, sword in hand, but half asleep, while Ratchis and Logan took point.

As Ra’s Glory rose to their left, they found that the opposite end of the ravine ascended gently, giving way to a verdant slope awash with many shades of green and yellow, and glistening in the last rain being broken up by the arriving sun.  Beyond it stood a black mountain that they would have to contend with in a few days time.

“This valley is so green and verdant,” Logan said.  “I wonder why the giants choose to live in broken down old stone houses atop barren bluffs?”

“Exactly,” Kazrack replied. “Think of what must live here to keep them out.”

“Yeah, I have a bad feeling,” Ratchis said.  “Let’s hurry past this place.”

They had not gone far when they saw what it was.  A winged reptilian form cast its shadow across the thick trees.  The Keepers of the Gate all looked up to see a purple and black monstrosity nearly thirty feet long with a long sinewy tale flapping around behind it.  The tail ended in a black bony point.  In the thing’s jaws was a large humanoid form, now looking ragged and frail, as its two halves bobbed with every flap of the thing’s black wings. 

“Isis have mercy!” Martin hissed.  “A wyvern!”

Without discussion, Ratchis cast _silence_ on the llama, as Kazrack’s casting had long expired, and Martin cast _levitate_ on Kazrack, so the now weightless dwarf could now be pulled along like a balloon by Ratchis, as he and the rest hustled past the woods.

They marched on through the rest of the day, reaching a long plain that ended in the dark horizon of the mountain they had seen a couple of days before.  On the brink of exhaustion, they continued on into the night to put as much room as possible between them and the wyvern.

Ratchis finally relented of his impossible pace only after Logan, Gunthar and Dorn began to lag behind so often, even Kazrack was ahead of them; the _levitation_ spell had long expired.

The half-orc made a camp in a thicket, doing his best to camouflage it, as the others just passed out where they had thrown their bodies to the ground.


Ralem, the 22nd of Quark – 565 H.E.

Several days later, the Keepers of the Gate had made their way past the first of the mountains, led by Ratchis through deep undercuts made in them by cold streams.  In this way they were able to avoid the worst of the climbing, and where they did have to climb some, they found the llama was deft and leaping up onto to rocks and from one to another, as long as they were not too high or too far apart.

Beyond this, was a world ringed by mountains. It was a grassy highland many miles across and marked with many streams and ponds, and littered with huge stones left behind by retreating glaciers thousands of years before.  The high plain was broken up by great jagged ridges that rose and fell as if the hard earth had once been sand, and some colossus had dragged its feet walking back and forth.

As usual, Ratchis took point, leaving Logan to lead the rest of the group and he jogged ahead to each rise, squatting down and looking over to make sure nothing awaited them beyond.  He would jog back and forth all day, seemingly tireless, reporting what he saw, and for two days it had always been ‘all clear’.

One hazy mid-morning, Ratchis made his way to the top of a ridge, expecting to see the rest of the plain beyond, but instead it was a ragged ravine that ran east from the mountains to a river the party had noticed at the western border of the plain.  Movement on the opposite ridge caught his eye, and he lowered himself down even more.  It was twelve, or perhaps sixteen, humanoid figures, picking their way up the opposite ridge and over it. 

It was hard to tell what they were exactly, but something about their ragged line, and the spears or poles that some had over one shoulder, made him think they were high orcs. He waited until the last one went disappeared over the top, counted slowly to fifty, and then went after them to see where they were going.

As Ratchis climbed the next ridge, going very slowly because he was aware that he was kicking up small clouds of red and yellow clay dust, he heard a sound coming from the other side that for a second he thought was the ocean; but the ocean was several hundred miles away.

He poked his head over and gasped.  In highland plain below that stretched out for miles amid the wide loops of a narrow river was an enormous camp.  The roar of voices came up from amid the many tents, hasty lean-tos and various red and green banners.  It was definitely orcs; scores and scores of them.

Ratchis hurried back to the others.

“Orcs,” Ratchis told them.  “Scores, maybe two hundred, maybe more.”

“So we’re gonna go kill them?” Gunthar asked.

“Why don’t you go ahead and the rest of us will catch up? Logan shot at the Neergaardian.

“Aw, is itty bitty Logan scared of some orcs?” Gunthar teased. 

“From the look of the camp they have their women and young with them, which means there are even more orcs around in hunting and scouting parties,” Ratchis continued, ignoring them.  “We need to avoid them.  We’ll go west and hope we can find a way to get across the river and travel around close to those western mountains, and avoid them all.”

“You hear that, Logan? They have their babies with them. I’m sure we can find some babies for you to kill,” Gunthar said. “We know all about killing orc babies. Right, Snuffles?” (6)

“Shut up!” Kazrack barked.

“Let’s go, and keep it down,” Ratchis said, and headed west.

*End of Session #73*

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

*Notes:*

(1)	*DM’s Note:* For the stats for the Rune of Light spell, see the Aquerra Wiki, at: http://aquerra.wikispaces.org/Spell+-+Rune+of+Light

(2)	*DM’s Note:* In Aquerra, the _invisibility_ spell lasts 10 minutes per level.  

(3)	See Sessions #51/#52

(4)	Wizards can trade out spells already prepared for others by spending 15 minutes per spell level per spell. 

(5)	The material component for the _invisibility_ spell is an eyelash pressed into a bit of Thrician gum.

(6)	See Session #65


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## Gold Roger

nice update. Did you stat out all these giant caves? must have been a lot of work for nothing then.
The Kazrack baloon was hilarious.


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## el-remmen

Gold Roger said:
			
		

> nice update. Did you stat out all these giant caves? must have been a lot of work for nothing then.
> The Kazrack baloon was hilarious.




AS PCs get to a higher level I do less and less actual prep for any one encounter or set of encounters because I it is nearly impossible to know what the party will do next or get fixated on as they rise in level and have more and more options at their disposal.

Instead, I do brief skeletal outlines of possible sites/encounters and then play it by ear based on this if the party gets there - taking the time between sessions to flesh it out if they end up staying there and/or dealing with it for a while.

So, for this journey back to Gothanius the PCs did a lot of avoiding of encounters - so a whole lot of the little prep I did was skipped over.  

I'd rather they skip it because it makes sense that they do so, than for them to  jump into it because they feel like that is what the DM wants them to do.


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## Gold Roger

Ok, that sounds fair enough. By the way, what level is the group right now?


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## el-remmen

Gold Roger said:
			
		

> Ok, that sounds fair enough. By the way, what level is the group right now?




By "right now", do you mean 'right now in the story hour'? Or, do you mean, 'right now in the current campaign'?

Well, I will answer both. . . 

As far as the story hour, the majority of the party is 8th level (with Logan and Roland being 7th).

In the campaign right now, Ratchis, Martin and Kazrack are 10th level - with the other PCs being 8th or 9th.


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## Manzanita

always nice to see an update.    Looking forward to seeing how it all plays out.


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## Look_a_Unicorn

*bump*


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## handforged

It just goes to show that even a simple hike across miles of wilderness can turn into a run for your life.  I need more.

~hf


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## el-remmen

*Session #74*

Up and out of the ravine they hurried, making towards the river, which cut out the edge of the steep barren hill that bordered the western side of the plain.  They could hear the hundred or more orcs cheering and roaring in great number in their camp on the other side of the rise.  

Each time after he led the party of a copse of trees to hide and wait for his return, Ratchis hurried ahead to assure that the path was clear.  It was very slow going, and twice Logan complained that speed to outdistance the threat was the better solution.  Ratchis nodded, and continued doing it his way.  

In the long light of the late afternoon, they made a dash for a series of tall vertical rocky outcrops on the edge of where the river came around the great bluff.  The outcrops looked like they had long ago been worn into drooping columns of brown gritty stone by the flooding of the river.  The water could be clearly heard, and the orc camp was several miles behind them to the east.

“Wait!” Ratchis hissed, putting up a hand.  There was another sound reaching them over the sound of the water.  Larger splashing and harsh deep voices.  There were orcs in the river ahead, obscured from view by the stone pillars.  The half-orc ranger crept forward to check it out, and returned quickly.

“Little more than a dozen,” he whispered to the others. “They’re fishing.  We’ll wait here for them to go on their way and then make it across the river.”

Gunthar rolled his eyes and leaned against one of the outcroppings.  

“We can kill that many, easy,” Logan whispered back.

Gunthar nodded.

“And then have another two hundred on our backs?” Ratchis sneered.  “No.”

“He has a point,” said Kazrack. “We may be spotted here and have to fight anyway.  Why not get it over with quick and hurry across the river. Maybe by the time they are noticed we will be long gone, and anyway, can’t you cover our trail?”

“And maybe there are more of them around the bend in the river, or maybe one will get away in the confusion, or very likely one has a horn to blown as a warning of danger,” Ratchis replied, gritting is teeth to keep his voice down. “And, they very likely have adept trackers with them.  It is not worth the risk.”

“I agree,” said Martin. “Let’s stay alert in case we do have to fight them, but if we can avoid being spotted at all we certainly should do so.”

“Bloody pansies!” Gunthar swore, too loud.

“Keep it down!” Ratchis hissed.

“Look, I’ll go kill them myself,” Gunthar said.  “There are only, what? Fourteen of them?  No problem.”

“Heh, go ahead,” Logan said.

“You saying I can’t take on a dozen piggies myself?”

“I’m saying I would like to see you try,” Logan replied.

Gunthar pulled his sword, and began to walk through the rough pillars towards the river.  Ratchis stepped in front of him.

“No one is going anywhere,” he said. “We’re waiting.”

Kazrack and Martin nodded.

An hour passed, and still the loud orcish voices splashed in the river. Martin made himself and Ratchis _invisible_ and they crept forward to listen in on the conversation.

“You better catch more fish than that,” said one of the loudest orcs. Though invisible, the two Keepers of the Gate remained out of sight lest their footprints or breathing might give them away.

“Yeah, if she is returning tonight like the shaman says she may be hungry,” said a whiny voice that wheezed a lot.

“If she’s hungry and we haven’t brought enough fish we’ll all be fed to her, so shut up and get some more,” said another raspier voice.

“By Ashronk’s Eye!  There she is! She’s returning! Grab what you got and let’s go!” said the first voice again.

The splashing became more frantic and the rest of the party could hear the footfalls and grunts of the orcs as they ran past through the rocking outcropping, but never coming over to their end of the group of stone pillars.

Martin and Ratchis sat very still as orcs in patchwork studded leather armor, with bows on their back and spears in their hands, went bounding past them.  Half of them had bulging sack over their shoulders and the water that dripped through the canvas was flung in all directions with each bounding step.

Soon, they were gone.

“Did you see that?” Logan pointed to the darkening sky to the east.  Kazrack and Dorn looked, and both thought they could see the shadow of something descend from a cloud toward where the orc camp would be.

“What was that?” Kazrack asked.

“It looked, well… draconic to me,” Logan said, a bit of nervousness crept into his voice.

”The wyvern?” Martin asked, coming back to the others, but still invisible.  They all jumped.

“Next time let us know you are returning before you speak so suddenly like that,” Kazrack spat.

“And how should we do that, whistle?” Ratchis replied, invisible as well. “And we all know that was not the wyvern.  That is the ‘she’ the orcs were talking about.  They used the word ‘_tashmar_’.” (1)

“Tashmar? That’s like ‘big smart monster’ right?” Martin guessed. 

“With the ‘_thot_’ inflection, and the fact that when they ran past I could see they had a dragon tattoo about their neck and down their left arm…” Ratchis began.

“Wait, you have that same tattoo,” Kazrack interrupted.

“Yes,” the half-orc replied.  “These are the _Darksh_.  My people.  Or at least a group that has their origins with them, and that is why I know that was not the wyvern you saw.  It was the dragon.”

“All the more reason to get out of here,” Dorn said,

“I’ve with the cabin boy,” Gunthar said.  “That dragon is the reason plans were invented, and I am not ready to spring the plan.”  

“Why do you think they are gathering here?” Kazrack asked.

“I am not sure, but we are far south of their usual territory,” Ratchis replied.  “Whatever the reason, we cannot afford to stay here much longer.”

Martin nodded. “A dragon’s senses are acute. She might already know we are here.”

Ratchis ran off to make sure the orcs were really gone and then he led the party across the river and westward up on to the bluffs before slowly being able to move northeastward again, many miles away and much further up, and that would be days from now.


Isilem, the 23rd of Quark

As evening of the next day fell the Keepers of the Gate followed an ever-widening gorge on their right created by the river now far below. The path they followed was strewn with sharp rocks and steep in many places.  Several times the llama’s cries echoed against the bluff, causing everyone to look around expectantly, but nothing ever came.

Ratchis was annoyed. He had thought that there would be a way to cross the gorge or go down into it and find a way up the other side before darkness, but as the gorge became wider and wider this seemed to be less and less likely. 

Martin the Green looked at his maps again and again, but they were not detailed enough to give any clue of the best route.  

The Keepers of the Gate were about ready to give up and find the best campsite they could when they came around a corner and there creaking in the breeze was a rope bridge with wooden slats, reaching across a narrower portion of the gorge.  It was about seventy feet to the other side.

“Can you use a bow?” Ratchis asked Logan as the party approached the bridge.  The other side was getting harder and harder to see with each passing moment.

Logan nodded.

“Use this,” the half-orc passed the young Herman-Lander the masterwork composite bow he had purchased back in Summit months before.  “But it is just a loan.” (2) 

“Okay,” Logan replied, and he fit an arrow to it and smiled as he pulled it back to his chin.  The others stood ready as well, as Ratchis began to slowly make his way across the bridge.

The bridge protested with each careful step of the half-orc, and he clutched onto the rope handles as it jerked back and forth from his weight and the wind.  He looked down and there was only darkness and the echoed gurgle of the river below.

Suddenly, the rope bridge began to jerk more violently.  A tall shadowy loping figure was making its way from the other side of the bridge. It had long arms, which it used to leap across the bouncing boards.

“Troll!” Ratchis cried, turning around to get back to the side of the bridge where his companions awaited.

Logan let two arrows fly into the lumbering form as it emerged from the darkness and Dorn moved up onto a rock to get a shot from the left. The missiles buried themselves deep into the green and yellow mottled flesh of the humanoid monster, but it did not slow.

Ratchis leapt around and drew his great sword as he made it to the end of the bridge, and drawing his halberd, Kazrack stepped beside him, blocking egress from the bridge.

The voices of the half-orc and the dwarf called to their respective gods to grant them _bull’s strength_.

“_Lentus!_,” chanted Martin and the monster stopped, though its wiry black locks flapped beneath its chin, but the watch-mage could tell it was not because it had been affected by the spell.

The troll began to back up in the direction it came from, eying Kazrack and Ratchis readied at the end of the bridge.  It snarled as another arrow from Logan cut through one of its long pointed ears.

“It’s retreating!” Kazrack cried, and suddenly the monster was no longer on the bridge, but leaping high in the air and down at the two of them, screaming with horrific glee.

Ratchis stepped back as a claw reached for his face and brought his great sword down on the troll’s shoulder as he withdrew from the ferocity of the attack. . Kazrack barely managed to duck the thing’s other sinewy arm, and drew back as well.  They had successful drawn the eager monster off the bridge.

Logan dropped the bow and drew his long sword, throwing his body into a shoulder roll to avoid the thing’s claws, and then leaping to his feet and slashing the thing in the chest and upper thigh.

Two more crossbow bolts buried themselves into the troll, flying from the weapons of Martin and Dorn.    It spun around and found Kazrack’s halberd being shoved into its face.  Green blood spurted out and it scream and broke its own teeth biting at the metal.  The dwarf used his leverage to turn it towards Ratchis who brought two merciless blows down on the back of the thing’s neck. There was a loud crack and it collapsed to the ground.

It lay there for a second, and then Kazrack pierced its side with his pole-arm, shoving the blade deep into its innards. 

Gunthar stood ten feet away, his swords resting on his shoulders and laughed.  He threw both blades into the dirt and grabbed a flask of oil from his pack on the llama and began to pour it over the troll’s corpse. 

Ratchis cut its arms and legs off and piled them up, and Martin lit a torch to the thing.  The thing’s head began to scream, but then gurgled and was silent. Soon all that was left was a black tarry ash.

“So that’s a troll, huh?” Logan said.  “Doesn’t seem so bad.”

“Let’s just hope there aren’t more,” Ratchis said.

“And they are bad, very bad,” Martin added.  “We just happen to know how to defeat them.”

“And if he has brothers it might still get bad,” Ratchis said.


It took nearly an hour for the group to cross the bridge one at a time and bound with a rope.  Ratchis went first, followed by Logan.  Logan then kept watch as Ratchis held the rope and helped the others across.  Gunthar and Martin struggled to get Fearless to walk across the bridge, but finally Ratchis went across and calmed the animal and led it across himself.

“I’m really surprised the llama’s cries hasn’t drawn the attention of more mon. . .,” Martin spun around as a tall figure leapt out of the darkness.   This side of the bluff was dotted with low spindly barren trees in tall weedy grass, and for a moment it seemed as if one of the trees had come to life.

“_Lentus!_” Martin cried, and this time it worked.  The new troll’s ferocity was suddenly comic in slow motion.

Kazrack charged it and thrust his halberd into its chest, drawing a bloom of green blood to join that of the last troll still staining his chest plate and helm.

Once again Logan, sword in hand, tumbled within the thing’s reach too quickly for it to react, and slashed deep into it.  Dorn tried to follow, but felt the weight of the thing’s claws rake his brow and he fell onto his rear.

“Why not take a load off, cabin boy?” Gunthar quipped, moving to pen the monster in from the left, as Ratchis came around from the right.

The troll brought its arms close; as if trying to bear hug Logan, but the small man ducked and twisted backward bring his sword down across the thing’s forearms, slicing tendons.  The thing screamed and waved the arms about throwing showers of blood in all directions.

“Don’t give it a chance to heal!” Ratchis cried, bringing his own sword down on its back.  It stumbled back toward Logan who chopped it as it fell.

Kazrack moved to drive his halberd into this troll as well, but it leapt to its feet, and swung one of its arms at the dwarf.  The blow rang on the dwarf’s armor, but did no harm.  Ratchis hacked the thing again, and again it fell.  Logan drove his sword through the thing’s shoulder until it bit the earth beneath, pinning the troll there as Dorn poured oil all over it.  In a moment it was burning.

---------------------------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	The orcish language has a very limited vocabulary and often re-uses many of the same words for various degrees of meaning or variations of qualities by apply certain inflections and guttural nuances to them.

(2) *DM’s Note:* This bow is built to give a bonus to damage up to a Strength score of 14.


----------



## el-remmen

Oh, and expect another installment in a day or three. . .


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## Graywolf-ELM

Cool, glad for the update, and good to know you're out working and doing well.

GW


----------



## Manzanita

Yes.  That was cool.  I do feel like we're nearing the end when we get more involved with the dragon.  I am so psyched to see how it all turns out.  I also like how you integrate PC backgrounds into the story, like using Ratchis' tribe.


----------



## Tony Vargas

Looks like Logan is doing pretty well so far.  He put in a good showing against the trolls, tumbling through thier reach and seemingly putting some serious hurt on them.


----------



## el-remmen

Tony Vargas said:
			
		

> Looks like Logan is doing pretty well so far.  He put in a good showing against the trolls, tumbling through thier reach and seemingly putting some serious hurt on them.





Yeah, I try to describe the action based on the detailed notes my players take - making note of how much damage each hit does.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #74 (part ii)*

Not forty feet down the embankment, Ratchis spotted an earthen hut built partially into the ground.  It had a straw roof supported with uncut logs and plastered with feces, mud and grease.  He and Kazrack tore the roof off and the smell that came out was revolting. 

“No more trolls in here,” Logan said, using the light of the medallion Kazrack had made to see by.

“We’ll search it in the morning,” Ratchis said. “Let’s move away from here a few hundred yards and find a place to camp.”


Teflem, the 27th of Quark – 565 H.E.

Four days later they marched down into another pleasant valley set within tall green hills. They had left the jagged bluffs of the trolls and their hut, three days before.  Within the hut were the mostly eaten corpses of three gnomes, shreds of their armor and scattered gems and silver obleks, which the party collected.  Gunthar took the biggest gem, a diamond, for himself; assuring everyone that he was just holding it.  They took the time to bury the gnomes under rock cairns. 

This place was much more hospitable.  The trees here were growing tiny red mid-summer apples, and the birds sang sweetly along with a babbling brook that wound lazily around the valley.

“I know its only just after noon, but maybe we should rest here the rest of the day and leave again tomorrow,” Ratchis suggested.  “We have been making good pace and this is a good place to replenish some supplies, get fresh water, collect some apples and nuts and I can go do some hunting with Logan and Dorn.”

The others agreed and began to set camp.

“Thanks for reminding me about noon,” Martin commented to Ratchis.  “Casting the _detect scrying spell_ slipped my mind.  I do it everyday at noon as to not forget, since it lasts twenty-four hours.”

“Uh-huh,” Ratchis grunted, walking off to deal with his gear.

Martin the Green spent the next ten minutes casting the intricate spell, as Dorn pitched the tent and Gunthar carefully unpacked the llama. Logan gathered firewood, while Kazrack figured out in which direction was the First Mountain so he could properly place his prayer stone.

“Uh-oh,” Martin gulped. He looked around the camp wildly, and then walked calmly over to where Ratchis was laying his gear out on his hyenadon skin.

“Uh, Ratchis? We’re being watched.” Martin whispered.

“Uh?” the half-orc looked up.

“We are being scryed on,” the watch-mage said.  “By not one, not two, but three different sources.  Right now.”

Ratchis sighed and stood up and walked over to Kazrack.

“Martin says we’re being watched,” Ratchis said.

“Try not to make it obvious we know,” Martin hissed, hurrying over.

“What does it matter?  Maybe they’ll stop watching!” Kazrack said. “Anyway, I will call upon the favor of my gods to dispel their evil magic.”

“It is three different people,” Martin whined.  “Who could it be?”

“Probably Rindalith,” Ratchis suggested.  “And Mozek.”

“Oh, one just disappeared,” Martin announced.  “I can try to find out who it is that is watching by concentrating my will against theirs.  I’m going to try.”

Martin the Green closed his eyes and concentrated his will towards one of the sensors that were now visible to him. The darkness behind his lids gave way to a gray mist that roiled and expanded, and then crystallized.  He felt as if he could push through and the vision shattered to reveal the form of a man with a well-kept red beard and bright green eyes, he wore familiar crimson robes.  He was in a large room, with a cracked wall behind him and natural broken light raining down from above.  The man sat on the floor and looked into a crystal ball upon a small pedestal before him.  

It was Richard the Red.

Richard looked up as if he was aware of Martin’s presence and smiled and then he waved a hand before his face and all was black again.  When Martin opened his eyes another of the sensors was gone.

“It was Richard.”

“Well, whoever it was there is still one watcher left, correct?” Kazrack asked.

Martin nodded.

“Lords and Lady, please grant me your divine righteousness to undo the weave of foul arcane magics that seek to spy on us from afar, and whatever else might lurk in this area and do us harm,” the dwarf intoned, shaking his bag of runestones.”

“What the…!” Gunthar cried out, and there was a sound of alarm from Logan and Dorn as well.   The small trees all around and the soft green grass had all disappeared.  The place was actually much more barren, the few trees did hold fruit, but the grass was hard and yellowed, and stones were piled all about.

“There must have been another spell in place here,” Martin said.  “_Hallucinatory Terrain_.  I am familiar with the spell and can cast it myself.”

“Break camp, everyone, we are getting out of here,” Ratchis said.

“The sensor still watches,” Martin said.

“I figured as much,” Ratchis said.  “And whoever is watching probably cast that spell to make this place more inviting.  We go.”

The party angrily re-packed their stuff, and Fearless protested at having the weight of the gear back on his back so soon with frequent wails, but they marched north out of the valley and into the craggy foothills of the nearby wall of mountains.


Osilem, the 3rd of Keent – 565 H.E.

After two days of marching up and up into the cold air of the mountains, The Keepers of the Gate had barely made eight miles of progress in the last day and a half.  The going was very steep and very treacherous most of the way, and twice the llama had to have _levitation_ cast on it to get it up the sheet climbs.  Frantic, it kicked and spat despite Ratchis’ efforts to calm it, though it quickly became quiet again when its feet were on solid ground.

They climbed down into a rectangular gully and were not sure of which way to go.  A narrow path with tall stone walls wound off to the east and seemed to go underground, while a series of plateaus seemed to lead to a higher path that veered northward.

It was decided that Martin would talk his dragon-man form and become _invisible_ to get a better vantage of a way to go by using his _arcane eye_ spell.

Up among the cold mountain winds, Martin the Green took his time surveying the land all about him, and then sent his unseen eye to scan the distant horizon and look around the mountains that blocked the party’s way.

He conveyed what he had seen of the ways to go when he came back down.

“The narrow winding way _does_ go underground, and I could not determine where and if it came back out, though there was a place where a stream poured out of a great cleft in the mountains miles east of here, that might have been it,” Martin explained. “The other route is not all that much more promising.  Several plateaus lead over the mountain and down towards a stone highway that crosses a gorge.  It looks like a road paved long ago, and on the other side of the gorge is a fortress cut out of a black stone bluff, with towers and a gate.  It looked like there were dwarves there.”

“Then that settles it,” Kazrack said, with a smile.

“That route is going to require us to use at least four more levitation spells to get the llama up and over, and there is also a nest overlooking the midway point,” Martin added.

“A nest?” Logan asked.

“Yes, giant eagles,” Martin said. “I saw them flying around and swooping towards where our path is. Their nest overlooks it.”

“We will have to hope they will leave us be,” Ratchis said.  “As much as I would like to avoid a fortress full of dwarves, going underground when we don’t know which way, if any, is out is the worse choice.”

“Why would you not want to go to a fortress of dwarves?” Kazrack asked; his brow furrowed.

“He’s a pig-f*cker,” Gunthar said matter-of-factly.

“But he is also my friend and companion in arms,” Kazrack said. “I will explain to them the situation and we will get a good night’s rest and plenty of mutton and mead before we move on.”

“You still haven’t learned anything about your kin, have you?” Ratchis asked, shaking his head.

“If you were a normal half-orc I would agree,” Kazrack insisted. “But you favor your man-half.  It will be okay.”

“I hope you are right,” Ratchis sighed. “But I doubt it.”

Kazrack frowned.

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

Several hours later, just after levitating the llama up its second sheer climb (this one eighty feet), and giving it a few moments to stop spitting and hissing, they heard the loud snap of wings and a sudden wind.  Before them, blocking their path at the top of the next embankment was a huge eagle.  Its wingspan was over twenty feet, and it half-opened its wings twice while awkwardly moving to turn its head and keep a darting eye on the party. 

The path over the mountain was less than forty feet wide in many places, and the walls on either side either sheer walls or sheer drop offs.  Here, the shadow of the peak of the mountain hung over path on the left, and a width of five feet of sheer rock sixty feet high blocked off a drop to water several hundred below.

The eagle was gold in color, save for bright red feathers than lined its wings and about its head. It turned its head with a jerky bird motion and looked at the party with its other eye, clicking is bulbous tongue in its wicked beak.

Ratchis raised his open hands and took a step forward.

“None shall pass this way, Son of Joacham,” the eagle squawked, clicking his beak and pointing it up in the air while ruffling the feathers of his neck to re-create the guttural tones of dwarvish tongue.

“Was that. . ?” Ratchis looked back to his dwarven friend, and Kazrack took half a step forward.

“By whose order?” Kazrack asked. “If it is yours and we have trespassed on your territory we beg forgiveness, but we must pass through here.”

“By order of your kin,” the eagle replied.  It jerked its head around again, spying them with the other eye and clicking twice.  “We watch the western pass as was long ago agreed when our grandfathers’ grandfathers were hatchlings.  None may pass this way without leave of the dwarves of Adothroch, and certainly not one who reeks of the blood of the boar-god.” 

The eagle’s eye turned to Ratchis and half opened its wings again suddenly, taking alight for a half second.  Everyone started, fearing the eagle was about to attack.

Kazrack told the others what the eagle had said.

“Is there no way to buy passage?” Martin asked.

“I might let you and your companions through to speak with your kin yourself,” the eagle replied, understanding the watch-mage and now speaking in halting common, but speaking only to Kazrack.  “But I would need a token, a morsel to bring to my nest.”

The eagle’s eye darted over to the llama. “But even then, the boar-blood may not pass.”

“I would be willing to give the eagle the llama, but not if it isn’t going to buy passage for all of us,” Ratchis said to his companions.

“Easy for you to say, it isn’t your llama and it isn’t carrying any of your bloody stuff, Snuffles,” Gunthar swore.

“Will you let me pass alone?” Kazrack asked the eagle.  “I am a rune-thrower, a servant of the dwarven gods and of the dwarven people. I can be trusted.”

The eagle jerked its head up and down and then whipped it around and hopped back.

“I will return having obtained passage for all my companions from the dwarves,” Kazrack added.

“You may pass,” the eagled cawed. “But the others must retreat back to the gully.”

It was agreed, and Kazrack went on as the others drew back to the gully where they made camp.


*End of Session #74*


----------



## Manzanita

You go El Remmen!  If you keep up that pace we'll catch up by Thanksgiving.  Does the party ever find out who cast that Hallucinatory terrain?  If not, can you let us know?


----------



## Gold Roger

Nice update. I take it if Martin had been more carefull he could have identified all three scryers?


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> You go El Remmen!  If you keep up that pace we'll catch up by Thanksgiving.  Does the party ever find out who cast that Hallucinatory terrain?  If not, can you let us know?




I sincerely doubt that, but I do hope to start on the next installment soon.

As for who cast the _hallucinatory terrain_, once I am done wriitng and posting up the entire journey back to Gothanius I plan to post about all the things the party skipped over by avoiding all possible conflict - some helpful, some deadly, some depended on how it was handled. . .


----------



## el-remmen

Gold Roger said:
			
		

> Nice update. I take it if Martin had been more carefull he could have identified all three scryers?




A level check against each of the scryers would have been needed to see each of them, but he ran out of time to do more than one.


----------



## el-remmen

I just wanted to drop a line to say that I began to work on the next installment tonight, and we are playing our first game since early last month this Saturday, session #103 (or maybe #101 - the counting got messed up along the way (the current notes I am using for the story hour are labeled as session #77)) - and have been working on the wiki again.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #75*

Kazrack hoisted himself up to the tallest plateau and took a moment to look around and breathe in deep the cold mountain air rushing about him.  He thanked Natan-ahb and the other dwarven gods for giving him the chance to walk these mountains alone and appreciate them, and then he climbed down towards the gorge.  Soon, the fortress was in view.

The rune-thrower crossed the gorge by ways of a wide natural stone bridge lined with low crumbling walls of black stone.  It looked as if many holes and cracks in the bridge had been recently filled in.

The fortress itself might have been mistaken as a simple stone bluff from a distance. The towers on both sides seemed to have been carved from the cliff itself, and were ringed with seemingly asymmetrical crenulations, but Kazrack knew the careful planning and measurement that must have gone into each feature just from looking at it.

The other side of the mountain face the highway cleft in twain was lower and ragged. 

There was a partial wall about fifteen feet tall closing off part of the far side of the bridge.  And he called out as he approached it.

“Ho there! Brother dwarves! One of your kind approaches!” he called in his own tongue as he came around the wall. “Hello?”

“Halt!” cried a voice from atop the tower.  Kazrack could see that the actual entrance to the fortress was actual several hundred yards further down the stone highway. “Who comes by the old south road?”

“It is I, Kazrack Delver of Llurgh-Splendar-Tar by way of Verdun, rune-thrower of the gods of our grandfathers!”

“Wait there!  A guard will be sent to escort you to the gate.”

Kazrack was made to wait, as the light grew long.  Eventually two armored dwarves came out from the gate, though he had not heard it open.

One of the dwarves wore splint mail and full black beard stuck out from beneath his full helm; a great axe rested on one shoulder.  He had a pouch of runestones tied tightly about his neck. The other dwarf wore chain mail and carried a black shield decorated with a gold mountain. He wore an open face helm and had a brown beard and a young face.  Kazrack imagined that he might even be younger than him.

The dwarf in the full helm pulled it off and smiled.

“Master Delver!  It really is you!” the black-bearded dwarf cried.  He was swarthy and had a star-shaped scar above his right eye.  It was Captain Adalar Barnath. (1)

“Captain Adalar!  It does my heart good to see you here!” Kazrack grasped wrists with his former companion. “It is good fortune provided by Hodenar (2) that I would meet you at this point in my journey back to Gothanius.”

“Perhaps more fortunate than you know,” Captain Adalar replied. “We had reason to suspect you might be coming this way, though we had no way to be certain.”

“How so?” Kazrack asked, confused.

“It is not my place to speak of it,” Adalar replied.  “Come. Let us bring you within the fortress so that General Aron-lar can talk with you when he is free of his other many duties.”

The other dwarf nodded, but did not speak a word.  Kazrack was led to the fortress.  

Warmth and the palpable stench of animals kept in close quarters hit him as he stepped through a small door fashioned in the much larger black metal gate.

“Welcome to Adothrech,” Captain Adalar said.

Small smoky fires and dim lanterns hanging from the support beams lighted the huge enclosed courtyard.  He could see a secondary wall with a crenulated balustrade and another large gate.

“Before we go any further, perhaps we can go back and get the rest of my companions,” Kazrack asked.  “The eagle would not let them pass.”

“It is not in my jurisdiction to allow or disallow that,” Adalar said.  “You will have to ask the general.”

“Well, I was hoping you might help me, as I fear that the presence of my companion, Ratchis, who I call D’nar, will not win us permission.  But you know him.”

“I cannot.  I do not have the jurisdiction to interfere in such decisions of security,” Adalar replied.

“Well, at least someone should be told lest a patrol happen upon them,” Kazrack said.  “I would not want a misunderstanding to lead to bloodshed.”

“I will inform the general right after I lead you to a place where you can wait.” Adalar nodded. “How many are you in total?”

Kazrack counted on his fingers, “Uh… six, plus a llama.”

Captain Adalar led Kazrack through the courtyard.  The silent dwarf left, joining several groups of dwarven soldiers doing drills on the right.  They all wore chain shirts and had shields and axes.  In total, Kazrack guessed there were close to four dozen.  

“Are you preparing for war?” Kazrack asked.

“I will have to let the General decide what you can be told after he speaks with you,” Adalar replied, looking down.  “I am sorry, Master Delver, but my duty decrees that I follow his orders.  I mean no disrespect.”

“I understand,” Kazrack said.

To the left, Kazrack saw the source of the stench, over a dozen large wooden pens over sunken areas of the courtyard.  Within were many of the great riding lizards he had seen long ago on the road to Bountiful.   There were more dwarves on this side of the courtyard, some were tending to the beasts and others were saddling one and preparing to leave on them.  There were three dwarves working at a small smithy in one corner as well.

Kazrack was led through the inner gate, and he could see partially enclosed ramparts set with small swiveling ballistae atop the wall, with more dwarves stationed at them.  Beyond the gate was a labyrinth of narrow hallways and stairs paved in stony cement.  Finally, Kazrack was brought to a small cell in a hall of many identical doors.  Within, the stone had been shaped into furniture.

“The general will send for you when he is ready,” Captain Adalar said. “We ask that you wait here.”

“Could you wait with me?  There is much I would like to tell you and to hear of your journeys since we parted ways in Garvan,” Kazrack asked.

“Alas, I cannot,” the captain replied.  “I am on duty, but I will make sure to see you again before you leave.”

Kazrack took his prayer stone from his pack and aligned it with black metal plaque on one wall (3) and prostrated himself before it in prayer.

He realized he had dozed off when there was a knock on the door.  The stiffness of his body told him he had been in that position for hours.

The door opened as Kazrack stood and a young dwarf with a golden beard and big blue eyes entered the room.

“The general will see you now, Master Delver,” the young dwarf said.  “If you will follow me.”

Kazrack was led through another maze of halls, rooms and stairs that reminded him of the close confines of the sunken chambers of the Pit of Bones (4).  He walked past another smithy, and a room where several dwarves were working with leather, and a huge armory in which were scores and scores of shields, battle-axes, crossbows, quarrels, spears, hammers, maces, swords and other weapons.


General  Aron-lar had a voluminous brown beard, decorated with two thick braids that rested on the rest of the facial hair, and had stone beads woven into them.  At the end of each braid was tied a small gold medallion that Kazrack recognized as being medals given for extreme valor in combat, and for tactical thinking. (5)  He clicked a pipe in his mouth as he stood from behind a large stone desk covered in clay tablets and papers.  He wore simple black clothing and as he extended his right hand to grasp wrists, Kazrack noticed a large two-finger gold ring encrusted with emeralds on his right hand.

“Kazrack Delver! Captain Adalar speaks very highly of you,” Aron-lar spoke with a friendliness that belied the permanent scowl on his thin purple lips.  “It is providence that brings you here, I think.”

“You have need?” Kazrack asked.  They continued to stand as they spoke. (6)

“Not specifically, but it always good to see a new dwarf face,” the general replied.  “And then there is the matter of you being here when your name has come up so recently.”

“Oh? Has Captain Adalar told you of our travels?” Kazrack asked.

“Not very much,” Aron-lar said. “Only your aid of Garvan, and your journeys with Master Gritchkar which led to other adventures.  And most importantly, that the threat to the gnomes was not so much demons as it is the neighboring humans.”

“Well, sir, really it both and much more,” Kazrack explained. “It is for this reason that my companions and I are headed through here to Greenreed Valley.”

“Greenreed? Why Greenreed?”

“There is a nexus of power there,” Kazrack said.  “Another example of the fickle and untrustworthy nature of human magic, which is causing much of the problems in the area, and that the demon-gnomes hope use to their advantage. Not to mention there are other forces that also seek the place out.”

“Perhaps we can be of aid then on your journey…”

“I must say, that was indeed my hope.”

“We are organizing here by order of the Thegn of Abarrane-Abaruch by request of the Nauglimir Dwarven Merchant Consortium.  This outpost had been long abandoned, but the original force to come here were preparing it and the road for the opening of more trade with the human kingdom if their king would agree to more terms amenable to our people.  However, in light of recent events and the news that came to us through Master Gritchkar, more soldiers have been sent in case there is need of war against the humans, and to march to Greenreed Valley itself as a deterrent to the human forces,” the general explained.

“Well, I hope that it does not come to war and that peace talks will prevail,” Kazrack replied.  “When we left Gothanius my companion Martin the Green had arranged for the gnomes to parley with the humans.”

“Yes, well, as any good dwarf is taught, better toil than war,” Aron-lar said.  “And perhaps when we arrive we will not be needed, but we will not be going until we have organized enough to present a force to make the humans think twice about expanding into the gnomes’ lands.”

“The gnomes of Garvan have been our friends and allies for some time and we have dedicated ourselves to aiding them, however the danger presented by this nexus of power could threaten all of Derome-Delem.  I am glad to know that you and the fine dwarves under your command will defend that charge we have had to leave momentarily unaddressed,” Kazrack said.

“It is an honor and a duty to fulfill the promises of our ancestors,” Aron-lar said.  “And speaking of which, I take it the eagles of the western road would not allow your companions to pass?”

“No.”

“I find it strange,” the general said.  “Even if your companions are not dwarves the eagles were likely to let you all pass based on your being a rune-thrower, though they might have asked for a toll.”

“Aye, they did, but they would still not let one of my companions pass,” Kazrack explained.

General Aron-lar’s furrowed his brow.

“You see, one of companions was spawned by the blood of our enemy,” Kazrack said, looking down.  “He is only half-man, though he favors his man-half and has proven his worth many times over.  I call him, D’nar.”

“Fah! No one with tainted blood may pass through the sacred lands except on the end of a dwarven spear!” Aron-lar’s demeanor changed, his thin scowl became more severe and he looked Kazrack up and down with sudden disdain.  “I am surprised you would sully yourself by associating with a monster.”

“He is a faithful companion.”

“Heh, the word of the softened hearts of city dwarves has not been exaggerated then…” Aron-lar trailed off.  “No exception can be made in this thing and there can be no apology for it.”

Kazrack nodded, sadly.

“And now there is another matter,” the general’s tone remained firm and disapproving.  “Did you have among your companions a priest of the human cat goddess?”

“Uh, yes… Kind of…” Kazrack nodded. “He was called Roland, but we have not seen him in weeks.  He disappeared shortly before we left Nikar.”

“So, you did not send him ahead?”

“No… is he here?” Kazrack’s was puzzled.

“Yes, that is what I meant when I said your name had come up recently.  He was captured some days ago by one of the eagles.  He was trying to sneak through the pass so they brought him here.  At first we thought he was a spy for the humans, as some maps show there being a temple of the cat goddess in the human kingdom, but when questioned he mentioned your name and claimed to be part of your group and sent ahead.  However, Captain Adalar could not vouch that the human was truly part of your group.  Can _you_ vouch for him?”

Kazrack hesitated and thought it over.

“I cannot say I know him well enough to vouch for him.  And are certainly elements of untruth in what he has said to you, but in my experience humans can be quick to lie to save themselves,” he finally said.  “Perhaps if I can talk to him I can get a better idea if he is to be trusted at all.  My companions and I were upset at his disappearance and worried that he had turned against us, leaving to warn our enemies of our plans.”

“Fine. I will arrange for you to be brought to him and then afterwards we will discuss what is to be done with him,” Aron-lar said.  The dwarf walked over and opened the door and called in his servant.  The young blonde dwarf that had led Kazrack here was still waiting in the hall. “Laban, please bring Master Delver to the prisoner and when he is done please bring him back to me,”

The young dwarf nodded and led Kazrack down two more levels to another maze of rooms.

“Awaken! You have a visitor!” Laban slammed on a small wooden door with a fist and then threw it open.  The young dwarf gestured to Kazrack to go in.  “I will await you here.”

Kazrack heard grumbling from within and then the dim light of a lantern.  He went in.  It was small cell room very similar to the one Kazrack had been waiting in.  Roland was sitting on the stone bed, wearing a long shirt and woolen socks.   His wavy hair was a mess, and his face was long and blanched despite his typical olive complexion. 

“Roland…” Kazrack began.

“Ah! Kazrack!  Thank Bast you are here,” Roland stood and smiled; the wrinkles of sleep evaporating from his baby-face.  “Normally I do not appreciate being awakened in the middle of the night, but in this case I will make an exception.  I will just gather my things and get dressed and we can be going.”

“Sit down, Roland,” Kazrack said.  “I have to ask you some questions, like… What brings you here?  Why did you leave us without a word?”

“Oh… Uh, okay,” Roland scratched his chin, and plucked at the few wild hairs that were growing from his cheeks. He continued with an exasperated tone. “I simply decided it would be best if I went off by myself in panther form.  I thought if I went ahead I could check out the situation in Gothanius and around Greenreed Valley myself, set up in the temple of Bast you all t old me about as a kind of headquarters, and not be associated, at least at first, with your group and with a half-orc who is generally hated.  I thought I could ingratiate myself and learn something useful that perhaps none of your group could.”

“And that is what you told the dwarves here?” Kazrack asked.

“You wouldn’t believe how many times, yes!” Roland stood again and slipped on some trousers and reached for his waistcoat, which was folded on his pack. “Now if that settles it, can you get them to give me back my weapons and armor before we go?  I might need them.  Are the others here?  Or nearby?”

“No wonder they think you’re a spy!  You have acted foolishly,” Kazrack said. 

“You are going to help me get out of here, right?” Roland sat back down, and studied Kazrack’s expression.

“How can I help you?  I still don’t understand why you left the way you did,” Kazrack said. “Your general trustworthiness is in doubt.”

“Fine! Why don’t you just leave me here then? Roland pouted.

“Okay, I’ll come back later,” Kazrack said, turning towards the door.

“Wait!” Roland leapt to his feet and grabbed Kazrack by the shoulder. “I explained to you already why I left, and I did leave a note with one of the acolytes to be brought to Mercy and Ratchis, but you know how young people can be…”

Kazrack harrumphed and left, having Laban lead him back to General Aron-lar’s office.

---------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	Captain Adalar was the leader of the dwarves that accompanied Belear Gritchkar from Abarrane-Abaruch to aid the Fearless Manticore Killers in rescuing the Garvan gnomes from their fiendish kin. (See Session #37 thru #51)

(2) Hodenar is the dwarven god of merchants, travel and song.

(3)	All dwarven houses of prayer and personal chambers have a plaque identifying the direction of the First Mountain for the proper alignment of prayer stones. 

(4)	See Sessions #58 thru #60

(5)	 Dwarves of all communities still grant medals and honors for war and combat based on that set down by Dwitchak Chem of the Third (and last) Great Dwarven Kingdom, the fall of which marks the end of the Second Age.

(6)	There is a tradition among dwarves that all important talk should be done while standing.


----------



## monboesen

Do Rachtis player ever regret choosing to be half-orc?

People in your world are so racist that it is a terrible disadvantage for him. In fact, if I as a DM had chosen to run the world like that (and I actually quite like it), I think I would have sweetened the deal by not penalizing half-orc intelligence with -2.


----------



## el-remmen

monboesen said:
			
		

> Do Rachtis player ever regret choosing to be half-orc?
> 
> People in your world are so racist that it is a terrible disadvantage for him..




Actually, I think he probably chose half-orc _because_ of this.  It fit his view of the challenges he wanted his character to have to deal with - but you'd have to ask him. 




			
				monboesen said:
			
		

> In fact, if I as a DM had chosen to run the world like that (and I actually quite like it), I think I would have sweetened the deal by not penalizing half-orc intelligence with -2.




In my re-working of house-rules for the next D&D game I run I have decided to give half-orcs a the Endurance feat for free.


----------



## el-remmen

Oh, and I wanted to add that it is one of my pet-peeves when the cultural aspects and interactions of the various fantasy races are ignored when it comes to PCs just for the sake of convenience. 

I always let my players know that Aquerra is a human-ocentric world and characters of any other race are going to face some troubles of varying kinds no matter where they go.


----------



## Ratchis

As the DM says, I like the difficulties thrown my way. They can be a bit taxing at times, but the whole point of this character is to play someone who tries to do the right thing (and succeeds a fair amount of the time in my estimation) despite all that the world has thrown at him. And on the other side, his interaction with the party and others is teaching him the more subtle aspects of his goddess like compassion and friendship.

I like the complicated, dark characters most of the time.

Has the person who asked this question read Rachis' background story?


----------



## Manzanita

El remmen runs a rat bastard world, which is probably why I like it so much.  Half orcs do seem to get the worst of it, but Ratchis has also really shined in this game.  He's a great character.  Is Roland still a PC at this point or would that give it away?


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## monboesen

No, I didn't read all of it, but some.

And just to clarify, I'm not questioning the way the world is run. I quite agree that cultural aspects are often not nearly played up enough (in my latest games elves and dwarves alike have been potrayed with insufferable superior attitudes and raving racism even towards humans.).

I just thought that it seemed such a noticeable disadvantage (compared for instance to dwarves) that I, as a DM, would have contemplated giving a mechanical bonus to make up for it. It's not like the half orc is a strong choise to begin with.

Obviously it seems that El-remmen sees things the same way. So my curiosity is sated, and I'm waiting eagerly for more updatees


----------



## Gold Roger

Great update, as always.
I must agree with the racism thing as well. Stopping it at the players just robbs them of roleplaying opportunities and things to bit them in the a**.


----------



## Ratchis

The treatment Ratchis receives is all just grist for the mill. What I really love about the character is that his story is really one of amazing triumph against all odds and if Ratchis could be outside himself for a moment and objective, he would consider his own existence and way of life to be a miracle of his goddess. He already thanks her for allowing him to rise above his upbringing, but he lacks the hubris to recognize that he has beaten all the odds in bringing any good into the world.


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## el-remmen

*wiki wiki wiki wiki*

As I mentioned in this thread: http://www.enworld.org/showthread.php?t=156673

For those of interested in reading the synposis of the adventures of an old adventuring group in Aquerra (called the Sign of Four) you should hop to the wiki here: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/The+Sign+of+Four+Adventures and read all about it.

You will notice (I think) how my campaign style developed, and how it was a little more "high adventure" back then.   And while I think generally speaking "Out of the Frying Pan" is the best campaign I have ever developed - style-wise I think the next one will be more a compromise between it and the Sign of Four campaign (maybe something like the Oath campaign, which I am now in the process of writing up the sysposi for).

Anyway, enjoy and if you have questions or comments please feel free to post here or to the thread I mention at the top.


----------



## Gold Roger

I've read the writeup. Sounds nice and fun but damn, you have a high pc-mortality rate to be sure.


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## el-remmen

Gold Roger said:
			
		

> but damn, you have a high pc-mortality rate to be sure.




Wait 'til you read the write-up for the Oath, there were 20 PC deaths that I can think of, and maybe more. . .


----------



## Manzanita

25 PC deaths in The Oath, per the Wiki I just read.  Wow.  That's so cool.  I do hope I get to play in one of your campaigns someday El-Remmen.  Have you figured out the details of the next one you're running?  As I recall, you were thinking you might do an M&M game.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #75 - Interlude*

Logan crept along a dark narrow alley that he recognized from his days in Teamsburg, beyond it was a small abandoned plaza were ‘hazers’ scored Sparkleweed…(1) But something was not right.  The Herman-lander realized he was being followed.  There were the sounds of marching feet carrying heavy armor behind him to the left, and so he hurried forward, hoping to find a place to make his way to the roofs.   

But still something else was not right, this plaza and the buildings around it had been blasted during the Black Island raid (2), but now it was as he remembered it from years before.    Logan emerged into the small plaza noticing that the sky was starless, but the light of paper lanterns hung from on the walls from strings cut the darkness.  Suddenly, there was music, and from the shadows came dancing couples.  

Before Logan could process this sudden development, he was snatched up by a dancer, and found himself tangled up in trying to keep up.  He did not know the steps.  He looked frantically at the other couples, and noticed for the first time that they all suffered from the horrible burns caused by Red God Fire. (3)

Logan looked to his partner and gasped.  It was Esmerelda.  A young playmate that was sold into indentured servitude with the rest of her family to pay their overwhelming debt. (4) Except she looked older than Logan last remembered, she wasn’t more than nine then, but she would certainly be older than fourteen now, but that was about the age she appeared to him; in her tattered dress that is too small on her, and blackened bare feet.  Her brown hair was scorched straw, burned away from the right side of her head disfigured face.  

And round and round they went to the music, Logan sensing that whoever was following him was now dancing as well, and as the couples formed concentric circles, the partners changed as the circles move in opposite directions.  

Several dark armored figures passed by Logan hurriedly, and suddenly Gunthar was passing him by as well and flicking Logan’s nose.  “You dancin’ with yer momma?” he sneered and danced on. Suddenly Esmeralda was in front of him again.

Except even though she looked exactly the same, Logan knew this was not her.  It was Alexandra the Lavender.  She opened her mouth to speak and it was bloody and most of her teeth were cracked, as if she had been repeatedly beaten in the face.

“Logan,” she croaked.  “You know who it is.  This was the only way I could contact you and know that no one else would accidentally see it or overhear.”

As Logan turned past the opposite side of the alley, she pulled him through it.  Again, Logan had the feeling that something was not right.  This alley should have not existed.

Suddenly, Logan found himself walking arm in arm with Alexandra through a market.  The watch-mage now looked like herself, dressed in her lavender academy robes, her freckled face on the pretty side of plain.  She picked up a bright shiny apple and polished it on her robes. From behind, Logan could hear the ruckus of stalls being roused by armored figures.  Alexandra did not seem fazed.

“I did not tell you this earlier because I had not finished my research, and because I did not want to prejudice your view of Martin the Green before you met him.  I wanted you to view his strength of character for yourself without preconceived notions.” There was a soothing, almost motherly tone to her voice.  A group of children came running by as the two of them walked past a stall selling straw jugs.  The children were laughing, and Alexandra patted a few on the head affectionately.  Logan noticed they were wearing clay masks that reminded him of the crude drawings of goblins down at Gobbos on the Water. (5)

“As you may now know, Martin the Green is in possession of a tome called _The Book of Black Circles_.  It would no exaggeration that it is perhaps one of the most dangerous magical items ever created.  Sages would classify it by the term ‘artifact’, but that is neither here nor there.  This is the important part; you must make sure that he remains on the path to destroy it.  Its corruptive influence will not only try to undermine his morals, but the longer he owns it the closer he will come to _becoming_ its master, Marchosias the Corruptor.(6)  These Manticore Killers, or whatever they call themselves, are heading to one of the few places is might actually be destroyed, but you must make sure that when the time comes he does it, no matter what it takes.  Do you understand?”

She stopped and pulled Logan’s arm to stop him as well.  There were scores of people passing close by as they fled from the armored figures.  He could see the tops of spears heading towards them.

“We will be sending a watch-mage to help deal with the situation as soon as we can, but there is a danger in that as well because of the temptation of power of the book.  I am hoping that you are your father’s son, and that you will do everything in your power to make sure he stays the course, and to insure that such a man as Marchosias does not walk Aquerra again.  And lest you be tempted to try and take the easy way, remember less reliable men than Martin might get their hands on it if he is killed, so only use that option as a very final choice.”

She held Logan’s face in her hands.

"Find someone in party you can trust to do what needs to be done in case you are unable to, and make it someone who can keep it secret.  Take your time and choose correctly.  He cannot know."

And with that, Logan was bumped by the crowd, and he and Alexandra were separated. He could see her bite into the apple as she disappeared into the crowd.    Logan turned to his right and there, now fanning out to surround him were a dozen or more Teamsburg town guard, armored in ring mail, and draped in black shadowy cloaks that seem to have faces super-imposed on them.

Before he could flee, Logan felt the shocking pain of spear driving deep into his side.  He coughed up blood and all the guards started laughing.  He turned to look at the guard that stabbed him and he had his father’s face.  

“You will remember what I have said when you awake,” he said in Alexandra’s voice, and with that Logan awoke to the voices of his companions discussing Kazrack’s fate. 

--------------------
*Notes:*
(1)	‘_Hazer_’ is the nickname for those addicted to magical narcotic, _Sparkleweed_ popular in Teamsburg.

(2)	The City of Teamsburg, an important northeastern port in the Kingdom of Herman Land, was the site of the first strike sneak attack on the part of the Black Islands Barony that incited the current civil war.  More than half the city burned and thousands died.  

(3)	See http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Red+God+Fire

(4)	At the time Logan asked his father to pay their debt, but his father explained that a watch-mage could not give special treatment to people in his community, why would he not then pay everyone’s debt?  Anyway, he would not be able to afford it, he added with a smack to the ear.


(5)	_Gobbos on the Water_ is a basement level tavern on the Teamsburg Waterfront.  When the Black Navy blew up the wharf out front of it, the harbor rushed in.  Those that were not crushed were drowned and/or burned to death.

(6) Marchosias the Corruptor was the most feared and hated necromancer-warlock of all time.  A former Master of the Academy he was responsible for the Second Humano-Orc War, which was fought simultaneously in both Thricia and the Kingdom of Herman Land.


----------



## Manzanita

That was cool.  Cool but short.  Looking forward to the next installment.  I must admit I always have thought it would be cool to have a quest to destroy an artifact.  Frodo-esque.


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> That was cool.  Cool but short.




It was meant to tide you over until I can get the next installment done. 

_Dream_ has always been one of my favorite spells.


----------



## handforged

Thanks for the teaser, mmen.  I am very interested to see who Logan chooses...

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

*expect another one soon. . .*

*Session #75 (part ii)*

Tholem, the 4th of Keent – 565 H.E.

“How long are we gonna bleedin’ wait for ole Stumpy?” Gunthar asked, as he and Martin stood watch in the box-shaped canyon.

“He could be gone a week,” Martin replied.

“What!?”

“Dwarves are not known for their quickness to take action,” Martin explained.

“We could take another route,” Gunthar offered.

“And leave Kazrack behind?”

“He could be dead.”

“He walked into a dwarven stronghold, I doubt he is dead,” Martin sighed.

“If he’s not back in a week we’ll assume he’s dead,” Ratchis said, from his bedroll nearby.  Dawn approached and the half-orc sat up and stretched before undertaking his morning prayers.

“And what do you think of that little man?” Gunthar asked Logan, noting he was awake now too.

“We’ve been walking for ages, I could use the rest,” Logan replied. The olive-skinned young man rubbed his face with a calloused hand, and looked at Martin the Green for a long time.

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

Kazrack broke his fast with hard bread smeared with yak lard and covered in cold gray gravy from last night’s supper.  Captain Adalar had come to get him and they ate in a great eating hall which was filled with the cacophony of several score dwarves, most of them armored, eating and drinking. 

“I have been thinking of your troubles with coming through the pass with your half-breed friend,” Adalar said.  “And took the liberty of looking at some maps for you.”

“Mayhap I might get a copy of a map?” Kazrack asked.

Captain Adalar frowned.  “It would not be in my jurisdiction to order such a thing even if there were time, but I discussed it with one of the captains of the scouts and before you leave he will give you some advice about which way to go.  He knows the area much better than I ever could just from simply looking at a map.”

“I thank you deeply, brother.  Though any route we take will have to be discussed with my companions,” Kazrack replied.

“Of course, but…” Captain Adalar paused for a long time. “I do not want to speak out of turn, but perhaps it would be best if you broke off your companionship with the half-breed.  I can respect the loyalty of friendship, but some things just aren’t natural.” 

Kazrack made no reply.

Captain Adalar slurped up the rest of the bread and gravy. “And now I am to bring you back to General Aron-lar, so you may talk before you go on your way.  I am to arrange for your travel, so I will see you again to wish you farewell.

Adalar brought Kazrack through the winding passages of the fortress’ lowers levels and to the General’s office once again.  Aron-lar stroked the braids of his great beard, bearing an expressionless face as Kazrack entered.

“My regrets that I could not see you again last night, but there is much to be done before we can march, and we are still waiting on the reports of some of our scouts,” the general said. “Now, what did you find out from the priest of the cat goddess?”

“Not much that was useful,” Kazrack replied. “He gave me story that is barely plausible, but I have no means to test his honor.”

“Well, there is no outward evil in him, if that is what you mean. I had one of the rune-throwers ask the gods to reveal the nature of his soul,” Aron-lar said. “But as for actual honor, he has none.  He is a follower of that foul cat goddess, as if humans could be less trustworthy.”

“Humans vary in honor and steadfastness,” Kazrack said, frowning.

General Aron-lar harrumphed.  “If you are so soft-hearted as to accept a companion of tainted blood and still cannot vouch for this human priest, I shall have to hold him indefinitely. “

“Can I take him with me?” Kazrack asked.  “I will watch him and determine if he is a turncoat, and if he is I shall deal justice to him myself.  This I would swear by Krauchaar.  I would avenge myself on such a man who would portray himself as friend and then betray me.  I mean, if he has not seen any crucial secrets…”

“We had a sack over his head when he was brought to his cell.  He would have seen the citadel itself when the eagle brought him here, but he has no idea of our numbers and goal.”

There was a long silence. General Aron-lar closed his eyes.

“You may take him with you.  I do not want to have to deal with him,” he finally said.  “But I expect a full report as to his dispensation when we meet again.  If we do not meet again in Gothanius or within these walls, I will expect you in Abarrane-Abaruch one day.”

Kazrack bowed his head.  “I have long hoped that when this is all done I could visit the home of my teacher, Belear Gritchkar, and then of course the home of my own clan.”

“You will leave immediately,” General Aron-lar said.  He put out his hand and they grasped wrists in farewell.  “I shall have the Bastite brought up to the courtyard, and Captain Adalar has arranged for Captain Minol to bring you back to your companions.”

Back in the courtyard, Kazrack saw more troops running through drills, and others caring for the great riding lizards.  Captain Adalar was waiting for him.

“You know, the three fair-haired Tarnitch brothers are here,” Captain Adalar said with a smile that shone with his pride.  He pointed to two of the dwarves running the drills.  “They have been given their own commands of foot units.  The experience they gained with you in that foul Necropolis has lengthened their beards.” (2)

Golnar walked over, removing his helm and saluting Kazrack with a fist to the chest and then grasped wrists.  “I only have a moment Master Delver,” he said. “But I wanted to greet you for myself and on behalf of my brothers.  I hope we will meet as comrades on the field of battle once again and one day soon.”

“Let us hope not too soon, or without need,” Kazrack replied, grimly.

Golnar nodded and then returned to his unit.

Two armored dwarves led Roland into the courtyard.  There was a black sack hanging loosely over his head, but his hands were not bound.

“Kazrack? Are you there?” the Bastite asked.

“Yes, Roland.  We will be leaving here soon.  I mean to bring you back to the others,” Kazrack replied.

“Oh thank the goddess!”

“Better you should thank the generosity of General Aron-lar,” Kazrack said.

“Oh, yes, of course, him as well,” Roland replied not able to hide the sarcasm. “The gods know I have rarely been treated with such hospitality.”

“Enough!  Quiet down before I change my mind and leave you here,” Kazrack said.

Two of the great riding lizards came up to them.   Captain Adalar introduced Kazrack to Captain Minol. He was short, even for a dwarf, not as broad of chest and hips as most dwarves, and his black beard was coming in steel-gray, despite the tangles of black hair that stuck out from beneath his visored leather helm.  He wore a chain shirt and black leather breeches reinforced with black metal greaves. 

“Captain Minol and one of his cavalry soldiers will bring you back to the others,” Captain Adalar explained.  “He is the best scout we have here.  He will be able to give you advice of an alternate route to take from the canyon.”

Kazrack bowed.  “I thank you for your aid and time, sir.”  Roland began to bow as well, but his dwarven guards jerked back up before he had bent far.

“My pardons,” the human priest said in the dwarven tongue.

Minol nodded and grunted. He helped Kazrack onto the strange double saddle they used upon the great riding lizards.  The lizard was nine feet long, and it turned its head and stuck out its tongue lazily.  Minol strapped Kazrack’s legs in tightly. 

He point to loose end sticking out of a knot.  “Don’t pull on that unless we are about to go tumbling over a cliff, or are rolling over.  It undoes the straps in one quick yank,” He explained.  “And when I tell you to shift your weight left, right, forward or back, please do it immediately.  The ride is much smoother with two experienced riders, but we will do out best.”

Kazrack nodded.  “Since I returned to Derome-Delem I have wanted nothing more than to ride one of these beasts.”

“Well, you’re wish is granted,” Minol grunted.

Roland was helped onto the back of the second lizard and awkwardly strapped in and given the same directions.

“Oh, this is going to be lovely,” Roland quipped as the lizard jerked into motion.  Soon, the two great beasts were shooting out of the great gate and hurrying up a nearly sheet surface, and then scooting along horizontally on the side of the stone bridge to the other side of the gorge.

“You can take off the sack,” the dwarf on the same lizard as Roland told him, and the Bastite happily did so.

“Does it take long to learn to ride one?” Kazrack yelled to Minol.

“No talking,” Minol replied.

Up and down, and along the side of cliffs, and once fully upside down, the two lizards made their way to the canyon.

Ratchis, Gunthar and Logan stood and took a few steps back reaching for their weapons when the first great lizard was spotted coming over the cliff to their left.

Kazrack waved happily to his friends, but when Roland finally arrived, he hurried off the lizard’s back and swore.

“Where in the hell did the poofter come from?” Gunthar asked, confused.

“Yes, that is a good question,” Martin said.

“Why Nikar, of course,” Roland quipped.

“We know that,” Martin did not laugh.

“Yeah, we don’t need to know that you crawled out of the crack between your momma’s legs,’ Gunthar snarled.

“I found him among my kin,” Kazrack said. “They had taken him prisoner.  They released him into my custody, but I still do not trust him.”

Roland shot a look at the dwarf and frowned, putting a hand on his hip.

“Kazrack, I already explained what I was doing there and why I left Nikar, but I will gladly do it again for everyone else’s benefit,” the Bastite said.

“Later,” Captain Minol said.  “I told Adalar I would help you choose a route, but I have to be getting back.”

“Adalar?  Captain Adalar?” Martin asked.

Kazrack nodded.

Captain Minol took the time to go over the party’s maps with them and do his best to point out alternate routes to Greenreed Valley.

He explained of an underground stream in a tunnel under the wall of mountains that blocked the way east.  They would be underground at most a day, though it would be several more days along narrow ravines. And he warned them of kobolds in those areas.  After that they would have a choice.

They could pass through the southwestern tip of the forest called _Dybbuk Akvram_ (1), or they could skirt the wood by turning south, but it would add nine days to their journey.  As it was, having to take this other pass at all (instead of the bridge by the fortress) was adding about six days to the journey to Greenreed Valley.

“The portion of the wood you would be passing through if you took the more direct route is called ‘_Ailat-Bekis_’ (3),” Captain Minol said. “I would avoid it.  Few that go in come out, and when they do they are changed.”

“We have to take the quicker way,” Ratchis said.

“What is there in that wood that is dangerous?” Martin the Green asked.

“Eh, there was some great elven battle there long ago, against the black enemy” Minol said, shooting a look at Ratchis.  “Ghosts and other unnatural things.  We give it a wide berth.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Kazrack said to him after the taciturn dwarf had saddled back up. “I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

“May Hodonar guide your way,” Minol said, and he and his fellow rider took off over the cliff.

Logan was introduced to Roland, and then the Bastite retold his version of events since leaving Nikar. 

The Keepers of the Gate broke camp and decided they would not make the choice about which route to take until they reached the point where they had to turn south or not.

“Does anyone mind if I run ahead?” Roland asked.  “I can change to panther form and do the scouting.”

“No, you are staying with us,” Ratchis replied.

“I’ve explained already why left Nikar how and when I did,” Roland said. “I have not betrayed your trust. This is all a misunderstanding.”

“I think either we have to trust him, or leave him behind or kill him,” Logan offered.  “It makes no sense to only trust him halfway.”

The others agreed.  Roland transformed into his dusky great cat form and took off down the narrow pass to the east.
----------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	‘Dybbuk Akvram’ means ‘place of the bruised spirit’ is the dwarven name of what men call ‘The Forest of the Blood Sap’.  It is where the druids of the Circle of the Thorn reside. (See sessions #30 through 33)


(2) To have your beard lengthen (or thicken) is a dwarven expression meaning to fully come into the maturity of their adulthood.  


(3) This roughly means, “turn away from what fascinates” in dwarven.


----------



## Manzanita

Nice update.  Gunther cracks me up.  He's such a jerk, but funny as hell.  I hope they choose to return through the circle of thorns.  I'd like to see how that goes a second time.


----------



## el-remmen

Just a word to say the next "meaty" installment is done - all I need to do is a quick proof-read and I will post it sometime tonight - or early tomorrow morning. . .  Enjoy!


----------



## el-remmen

*so, it's a little late. . .sue me. .  *

*Session #75 (part iii)*

They traveled down along a dry riverbed that wedged the canyon wall in half.  The walls on either side of them climbed as they marched deep into the next day, and soon they might has well have been in a cave, so little sunlight made it down to them.

The next evening brought the actual mouth of a cave where the trail tumbled into rocky darkness. Here the ravine was wider, where large stones carried by the long dry river had clogged the pass and made a natural damn.  They were in a deep and wide eroded bowl, the perimeter of which was pockmarked with paths in all directions.

“We have to go in there?” Logan asked.

Ratchis nodded.  “That’s what the dwarf said.  It is supposed to be pretty straight and come out the other side of the range. It will save us three or four days if Martin’s estimate on the map is right.”

“If we save four days this way, will we avoid the haunted forest, or whatever it is, and take the southern route?” Logan asked.

“I think we should waste no time,” Ratchis said. “I am going to try to convince everyone that we can hurry through the forest.”

They spent the entirety of the next day underground.  While there was only one basic way to go, it was a winding and often narrow path, with some precipitous drops that caused the llama to panic. Its cries echoed eerily.  Several times, Ratchis found small dog-footed tracks down in the cave, but they saw no sign of the kobolds they thought must have made them. The moon was rising as they came out the other end of the underground passage damp and exhausted.  A cold fog settled into the new ravine they now found themselves in.  It was very narrow with natural shelves that ran along at different heights.

They made camp happy for what little sky was above them.

-----

In the night, Martin and Logan woke the others during the second watch because they heard scrambling among the shelves and tiny caves above them.

Kazrack kicked Gunthar awake with the tip of his boot.

“What!?” 

“Kobolds!” Kazrack hissed.

“You woke me for kobolds?” Gunthar said turning over and pulling his bedroll up. “What kind of wimp are you?  There better be three hundred of them.”

Kazrack kicked him again and Gunthar spun around punching the dwarf’s chestplate.  The sound of it rang loudly up the ravine and down into the cave the party had emerged from.

Tiny stones and puffs of dust came raining down from above, but though the party waited for nearly an hour, no kobolds ever came.

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

The morning found them bleary-eyed.  As Martin changed to his winged reptilian form with an _Alter Self_ spell, and took off to get a better lay of the land, Gunthar let loose a long curse-laden muttering complaint about having been woken up as he brushed the llama.  

The others said their prayers and broke camp.

Martin returned to report that he thought they might make it out of the far end of the ravine by the end of the day, and that he could see the forest beyond.  Roland slunk off in panther form.

Dorn and Gunthar were falling behind by late that day, exhausted.  Ratchis set an excruciating pace, and they ended the night with a steep climb on to a cliff overlooking the forest.  From up there they could see a great mountain to the north on the left, and the forest stretching as far as could be seen to the south and east; the shadow of another ridge was very very distant.  A river cut across the forest to the distant south.  It would be here that the Keepers of the Gate would have to decide if they would cut through the forest due east, or turn south to the river and avoid the so-called haunted woods.

“So which way do we go tomorrow?” asked Logan.

“It does us no go to go through the forest to save time if what is in there slows us even more, or even stops us,” Martin offered.

“I can throw the stones on the morrow and see what my gods offer,” Kazrack said.

The others agreed.


Ralem, the 8th of Keent – 565 H.E.

The sunlight rippled on the sea of green before them as they made their way down the cliff and into the woods early the next morning.  The reply Kazrack read in the rune-carved stones he carried about his neck seemed very clear to him.

_Long path is certain, but late. Short path is treacherous, but timely.  Either way you will find what you seek, but its state? Uncertain._

The woods were lovely, but thick and the going was slow.   Though only late summer, in this part of Derome-Delem some leaves already began to change into a shining golden brown.  The peat blue autumn moss was covering stones and logs and even living trees.  Every step was a crunch of twigs, leaves and hummus. 

Roland prowled around in panther-form. He had not changed back to human for several days, and seemed to prefer it that way.  Sometimes he would sit in front someone and open and close his feline-jaws and make noises in the back of his throat, but he never spoke. 

The party line stretched out as they marched.  Ratchis way out in front with Logan, Kazrack walking alone humming a dwarven song, Martin and Dorn even further back with nothing to say to each other, and finally, straggling behind, Gunthar was pulling along Fearless the llama.

Suddenly Logan dropped his sword and walked lazily over to a strange gray tree.  It was very tall and had no branches except for a few near the top, and it was crenulated with white specks on its bark.  He sat beneath it and promptly fell asleep.

“Logan!” Ratchis yelled.  Dorn walked past him and curled up next to Logan. 

And a few moments later, Gunthar stumbled over towards the tree. Kazrack made to grab him, but the Neergaardian swatted him away and fell over softly snoring, and then amazingly began to drag himself slowly towards it.

“What foul magic is this?” Kazrack asked.  “I am glad I am dwarf and am immune to such arcane treachery.”

“It might be natural,” Martin suggested.  “Some kind of pollen with a narcotic effect.”

“It is as good as magic,” Kazrack swore.  “My brethren warned us this place was enchanted.  Think of how many travelers go to sleep beneath those trees and never wake up.”

“Luckily, I don’t think many people pass through here, and we are not just any travelers,” Ratchis said. He walked over and grabbed Dorn and Logan and dragged them away from the tree.  Kazrack did the same with Gunthar.              

Gunthar was draped over his llama, and Ratchis carried Logan and Kazrack and Martin carried Dorn.  They followed what looked like an overgrown woodcutter’s trail to a stream, and there splashed their sleeping companions in the face with water. They awoke with much confusion.  

“Stay away from the gray trees,” Ratchis warned.

And on they marched, deeper into the forest.  An hour or so later, they marched in the shadow of hill with a gentle slope that rose to the north.  The hillside was wooded, but Ratchis noticed that there had been systematic logging in the area not all that long ago.  Curious, he went off to scout ahead, and brought Logan with him, as the Herman-lander had expressed interest in learning more about tracking and survival. (1)

They made their way up the slope.  Hidden among the three were three lodges, built partially into the ground.  They were huge, and by the size of the windows and doors, Ratchis could immediately tell they were meant for people who were at least ten feet tall.  He sent Logan to retrieve the others, while Gunthar and Dorn waited with the llama.

The lodges were well-constructed and made from logs, mud and wooden pins, but they were abandoned.  Ratchis could tell no one had been here for weeks, if not months.  He stood in the doorway of one and looked in.  There was no furniture, and only the remains of some soiled and stained rushes on the dirt floor.

“Ogres?” Kazrack asked as he came in, Logan and Martin in tow.  Roland scurried in, nearly unseen, still in his housecat form.

“I don’t think so,” answered Ratchis.  “Ogres generally don’t have the patience or craft to build lodges like these.”

“Giants,” Martin said for him.

“Oh, thank Krauchaar! He is answering my prayer for a chance to prove my skill at arms against the enemy of my people,” Kazrack said.  “But what kind of giants live in wooden cabins in the forest?”

“Forest giants,” Martin and Ratchis said, at once and both immediately grinned.

“And,” Ratchis continued. “If we see giants we are fleeing if at all possible.  Giants are fierce foes and we cannot afford to be delayed by injuries, or to risk one of us might be killed.”

Logan gave Ratchis a strange look, and Kazrack frowned.

“Anyway, it seems that the giants are gone,” Ratchis added.

The half-orc went over and dug in some mounds in one corner, despite Logan’s protests, and within he found garbage and a broken wooden doll the size of small child.

“Whatever drove them away…” Martin began.

“We will flee from that, too,’ Ratchis said.  “Let’s move on.”

Less than twenty minutes later, they could hear what must have been a wider river ahead of them, so Martin transformed into this flying reptilian form and took off to get a better view of the landscape.  As he passed the tree line he heard something whiz past his head, and then felt something bounce against the thick hide of his form.  It was tiny little arrows of a kind he had seen before.   Martin made a quick revolution and saw the river about 500 yards ahead, and several miles ahead was black wooden tower of some kind atop a thickly wooded hill.

He came back reported what he saw.

“And there are pixies here,” Martin added.

“Pixies?” Logan asked.

“That explains the sleeping trees,” Kazrack said.  “Rotten faerie magic.”

“Keep it down,” Ratchis said.  “They might hear you and you know what they are like.”

“What are pixies like?” Logan asked, seeing the look of worry passing over the party’s faces. 

Roland shrugged his panther shoulders.

“They shoot at you with arrows that put you to sleep, and they confuse you or enthrall you with lights,” Martin explained.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Logan replied.

“It is not just what they do, but when they do it,” Kazrack added.

“Like, while we are trying to cross the river,” Ratchis said.

“Shh! Don’t give them ideas,” Kazrack said.

“Oh, we already have a lot of ideas, Mr. Stone-head,” came a very high-pitched voice from up in the trees.  Several other laughing voices joined it, and one tree limb shook, but there was nothing to be seen on it.

“We’ll head to the tower as landmark.  I think that is due east, and that is the way we want to go,” Ratchis said.

“Oh yes! Oh yes! You should definitely go there!” cried one pixie voice.

“Oh what fun! What fun that will be!” Tittered another, clapping his hands, as he appeared.  There were three tiny men, no more than two and half feet tall, dressed in green knickers, cream-colored shirts and suspenders.  They had large membranous bee-like wings on their backs.   They each had a tiny sword and a tiny bow, with a tiny quiver full of tiny arrows. One was redheaded and had a patch of hair on his chin; the other two had chestnut hair, though one wore a leather cap that was way too big for him.

“I guess we aren’t going to the tower, then…” Kazrack said.

“Oh why not?” the redheaded pixie sounded upset. “But we want you to go! It will be ever so much fun to watch you play with the…”

Another of the pixies covered his companion’s mouth with a hand and whispered in his ear with the other. The two of them started to laugh shrilly and then they both whispered in the third’s ear at once and all three burst into laughter.

”Let’s keep moving,” Ratchis said, continuing to march.  The pixies disappeared.

“I don’t like this,” Martin said nervously.

“Don’t worry, we’ll give them little man to play with,” Gunthar said, gesturing at Logan. “He’s nearly their size, he can fight them for us.”

Logan grit his teeth, and his knuckles turned white on the pommel of his sword.

At the river, Roland growled, annoyed with its width and the strength of its current. He leapt at Martin, the black sinewy muscles of his panther-form shriveling and the hair folded back and springing outward again, a variety of patchwork colors. In less than a moment, Roland was a tiny black cat purring in the watch-mage’s arms.

Thomas was petrified with fear and took off down the back of Martin’s robes and scooted onto Ratchis’ head, chittering angrily.

“I hate cats!” he swore.

“Relax,” Martin told him, and placed Roland’s kitty form atop Fearless.  Thomas came bounding back to his master, and Martin scratched his head.

“Gimme a nut!” Thomas demanded, and Martin obliged him.

The ringing of laughter came from above them again, and once again the pixies appeared, though one of the chestnut-haired ones was gone.  The one with the too-big hat was still there, though.

“Hey, can we ask you something?” the redheaded one asked.

“It seems like you already did,” Martin replied.

The pixie put his hands on his hips and scrunched up his face.

“Haven’t we met some of you before?” the pixie asked.

“Um… maybe, we have been once visited the Circle of the Thorn, and…” Martin began.

“That’s it!” the pixies snapped his fingers, but his joy at having remembered fled his expression quickly.  “You are friends with the kinslayer!”

“Oh, we don’t like him,” the other pixie said.  “He killed Cerwidgen.”

“Where is he?” the first pixie demanded.

“Our destinies parted many months ago,“ Ratchis said.  “And anyway, he has paid for his crime by the customs of your people and still deals with that burden.” (2)

“Hmmm, that’s true!” the pixie said.  “A life for a life, that’s the rule!”

“Who else lives in these woods?” Martin asked.

“Oh, lots of things,” said the redheaded pixie.

“The dead things and the elf-witch lady,” the other said, and the first turned and smacked him upside the head.

“Shut up!  It is more fun if they find out themselves,” the first one said.  They both disappeared again.

Martin flew across the river with a rope before his spell could expire, and Ratchis held it on the other side as the watch-mage tied it tightly about a tree. Dorn began to make his way across, holding on to the rope while more than waist deep in the strong current.  

Logan was pushing at a tree with rotten roots that was right on the riverbank and finally managed to knock it over.  It reached three-quarters of the way across the river, and he began to walk carefully along it, displaying excellent balance. 

Suddenly, Dorn moaned and fell over, letting go of the rope. His inert body was tumbled by the water and began to be dragged along down river.

“Grab the rope!” Ratchis yelled, and in a moment he had dived into the water after his friend. 

The others heard gentle tittering, and one of the pixies appeared with a tiny bow in hand and began to fire at Logan.

“Stop that!” Kazrack commanded, as he held the rope that Ratchis dropped.  “Gunthar grab the rope.” He let go as well and fetched his fiddle and bow from where it was carefully padded in his pack, and began to play it.

The other pixie appeared and both gawked at dwarf.  Logan made it across, and Ratchis had managed to drag Dorn to safety on the other side.  He was awake again, but sputtering confusedly.

The two pixies swung around arm in arm up in a tree, dancing a jig to the dwarf’s music, and making up rude lyrics to go along with it.  Gunthar tied his end of a rope around and tree and led the llama into the river, murmuring in soothing tones to keep it calm.  Roland rode atop the beast in his tiny cat form.

Kazrack put his fiddle away, and suddenly a rain of tiny arrows fell around him. He shrugged them off and cutting the rope free on his side, wrapped it around his left arm and began to walk across using the tree.

“That’s no fair!” cried the redheaded pixie.  

“Now we’re not going to tell you about the witch-lady and her black beast!” said the other, and they both disappeared.  

“See ya later!  We’re off to let everyone know you’re coming,” the voices came from nothingness, and then they were gone.

“We’ve faced some pretty horrific creatures, haven’t we?” Kazrack asked Ratchis.

“Yes,” the half-orc replied, wringing out his clothing.

“I think I fear the pixies more than any of them,” the dwarf said solemnly. 

And onward they marched, using the tower when it came into view as a landmark to make their way east-by-southeast, but hoping to avoid it as well.

Logan continued to walk up front with Ratchis, and soon they were far ahead and just out of sight of the others.

“I wanted to talk to you while we were alone,” Logan said to the half-orc.

Ratchis stopped and looked at his new companion suspiciously.

“I received a message from Alexandra the Lavender in the form a dream,” Logan continued.  “It was about Martin.”

“Are you sure it was a message and not just a dream?” Ratchis asked, continuing to walk.

“I am certain,” Logan replied.  He went on to explain about how the Book of Black Circles held a portion of Marchosias’ soul, and as Martin succumbed to its evil, he would be more than corrupted, he would be devoured and become the Corrupter himself, so that the vilest of wizards ever known to have lived might walk Aquerra again. “Alexandra said I am to make sure he stays on the path to destroy it, but she also implied he might have to be killed if it looks like he about to be taken over.”

Ratchis was silent for a long time.

Logan continued, “She said I should pick someone to help me do it in case I should fail, but that it should be a secret so that he could not find out and prepare against it.  You seemed the best choice.”

Ratchis nodded, and then called for Dorn to join them up front.

“Dorn, I want to ask you a favor,” Ratchis said to him.

“Anything,” Dorn replied.

“I need you…” Ratchis stopped, and then crouched, looking under some brush. “Roland?  Do you mind giving us a moment of privacy and not sneak around behind us?”

The tiny figure of black cat scurried back to the others.

“I need you to watch Martin,” Ratchis continued.  “Stay close to him no matter what, but especially during combat.  Let no one come near him and let no one take the book from him, and if it looks like he be overcome by its evil… well…”

Dorn nodded, solemnly.  “I understand.”

When Dorn had left to rejoin the others, Logan stared at Ratchis with astonishment.

“I said it should be a secret,” Logan said.

“No, you said, Alexandra said it should be a secret,” Ratchis said. “And it still is a secret, but we needed another set of eyes.”

“Yeah, I guess you did,” Logan sighed.
“You and I will be deeply involved in combat more often,” Ratchis explained.  “Dorn hangs back and observes and lends support when he sees it is needed.  He is the good choice.”

Logan nodded, but still seemed unsure.

And on they went through the woods, and not long after Ratchis put up a hand.

“I hear voices ahead,” the half-orc said.  “I will creep up to see who or what it is, you go back and tell the others to be quiet, and I’ll come back to you.”

Logan nodded and was off.

Ratchis crept through the brush keeping his ears open and his head down.  In clearing up ahead, that he noticed the trail the party followed let to, were two men just over six feet tall, and broad of chest and shoulder.  They wore no armor, but utilitarian clothing of green, brown and gray wool.  They had greatswords on their backs, and he could see long bows and quivers leaning against a tree.  They had long curly locks of auburn hair, but round fresh faces with ruddy cheeks.  They were picking large ripe green melons from a patch beneath two oaks.  One smashed the other in the chest with an overripe melon, and started to laugh a deep rich laugh and the other looked angry.

Ratchis crept back to his companions and reported what he saw.

“If they are six feet tall and acting that way, they could be giant children… or adolescents,” Kazrack said.  “We should go kill them.”

Ratchis frowned and Gunthar laughed.

“Our mission is not killing random giant children,” Roland said, transforming back into human form for the first time in days.

“And not all giants are evil,” Ratchis offered.

Kazrack harrumphed.

“The question is, do we try to talk to them and see if they can help us on our way, or avoid them,” Ratchis added.  “What do you think, Martin?”

Martin the Green scratched Thomas’ chin as he thought.  “They are more likely to hinder than help us, I think.”

Logan and Roland agreed. 

“Anyway, they might not be giant children, they just might be playful woodsmen,” Martin said.

“Well, then we should investigate,” Kazrack said.

“Yeah, investigate their internal organs, you mean,” Logan said, with a smirk.

“Well, if it comes to that…”

“We could talk to them for you,” came a high voice from up in the trees.

“Oh, no!” Ratchis moaned.  “This way, double time!”  He began to set a hurried pace further south away from where he has seen the two tall strangers.  The others followed.

They had barely made it a hundred yards, when the two men came bounding out of the woods in an intercept course.

“Look an orc!” cried one of them in a baritone voice.  He had a bow in one hand, and a melon palmed in the other.

“Let’s smash him!” The other said and threw a melon that smashed against the back of Ratchis’ head with a juicy pop.

*End of Session #75*

----
*Notes:*

(1)	*DM’s Note:* As Logan was designed as an “urban” character, it was decided he would spend time with Ratchis in order to explain his ability to place points in skills like survival.

(2) Beorth was robbed of his memory to pay for the life of the pixie he killed in the Glade of Hennaire. (See Session #33)


----------



## Manzanita

I hope they don't have to kill Martin.

I suppose it might have been boring to have to fight kobolts.


----------



## mmu1

Hah... I guess it's bound to happen when over a year had passed, but didn't Gunthar actually get knocked out by a sleep arrow? I vaguely recall something about him being the last to cross, getting knocked out, the pixies making jokes about what to do with him, and Logan calling "I bet you couldn't throw him into the river!" from the other bank. Vaguely.


----------



## el-remmen

mmu1 said:
			
		

> Hah... I guess it's bound to happen when over a year had passed, but didn't Gunthar actually get knocked out by a sleep arrow? I vaguely recall something about him being the last to cross, getting knocked out, the pixies making jokes about what to do with him, and Logan calling "I bet you couldn't throw him into the river!" from the other bank. Vaguely.




You know, looking at the notes it was really unclear - and something in there made me think there were two different river/stream incidents (reference to the river and pixies in one place and then a few pages later some more dialogue about it involving Logan) and I decided just to truncate it.


----------



## handforged

well, faerie encounters are some of my favorite D&D moments, and I loved how the Glade was handled.  It seems that this arc will be just as taxing for the KotG.  I really like Logan's development, and Roland is driving me nuts(trying to figure him out, that is)

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

I just wanted to let everyone know that we played what will likely be the second to last gaming session of "Out of the Frying Pan" last week - and if all goes according to plan, January 14th, 2006 will be the date of our very last session - nearly five years from when we started (Feb 2001).

I have a bit started on the next installment, and soon I will no longer be able to fall further behind, I can only slowly (perhaps very slowly) catch up.

Some of things you can look forward to between what you are reading now and the end are (in spoiler tags):



Spoiler



- Attempted Murder of A Party Member By a Party Member
- The brief return of an old companion
- Betrayal!
- A Blood Oath Against Kazrack!
- Travel to a Demi-Plane
- A New Party Member
- Betrayal
- An epic battle against Mozek and his Hellbeast!
- Hurgun's Maze



So, I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading. . .   Unlike some other old school story hour authors, I plan to finish this puppy!


----------



## mmu1

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Spoiler
> 
> 
> 
> - Attempted Murder of A Party Member By a Party Member






Spoiler



Hey, I resent that! It would have been manslaughter at the very worst.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #76 (part 1 of 2)*

“I am only half-orc!” Ratchis called to the tall ruddy-faced men, as he and the others slowed and took cover, knowing that they could not outrun them with the llama and Kazrack.

“We’re tired of evil things messing up our forest, orc!” cried the man who had thrown the melon. There was something in both their voices that belied their height and broad shoulders, something that made them seem much younger than they might initially appear. (1)

“Yeah! Go back to your evil elf lady!  We don’t want you around here!” the other added.

Logan was crouched behind a tree and Roland took his lead.  Ratchis stopped and faced them from about sixty feet away.

“Ratchis! What are you doing?” Roland asked.  Martin drew Fearless the llama deeper into the brush and away from the partial clearing where the confrontation was happening, as Kazrack moved behind a tree himself, his hands tight around the haft of his halberd.

“Why don’t you come and fight like real men?  Pansy melon-throwers!” Gunthar jeered from his place beside Ratchis, both swords drawn.

He was answered with a melon that smashed painfully against his chest and neck.

Logan laughed.

“I thought we were trying to avoid fighting…?” Dorn looked back and forth to each member of the party, and then began to load his crossbow. 

“We know nothing of evil ladies,” Logan called from behind a tree. “We are just trying to pass through this forest, you bloody fools!”

“We do not want to fight,” Ratchis added. “We know nothing of this elf woman and we are not evil.  It is as my companion says, we are just passing through.”

“Well, the pixies did mention an evil elf,” Kazrack called out, honest to the last.  “But let me ask you this: Are you giants?”

“Yes!” cried the first giant youth.  “I am Smeaghele of the Fir Bolg Clan! And we are tired of outsiders coming into our lands and forcing us to move and trying to change our ways.”

“We just want to get out of your forest.  We do not want to change your ways,” Martin piped up from in the brush.

“I am called Deaghele, and you must come with us to face the judgment of our chieftain and father, Hognir.”

“You’re not taking us anywhere,” Gunthar spat. “You wouldn’t be the first giants I cut down to size.  Come on, Kazrack.”  He took a step forward and readied himself to charge when the dwarf did so.

“We want to be out of your forest as much as you want us gone,” Logan said. “The best thing you can do is show us the way out.”

“Their father may show us the way out,” Ratchis suggested.

“We are to trust giants?!” It was Kazrack’s turn to spit.

“They are giants and I am an orc,” Ratchis turned to his dwarven companion. “Which of us do you want to attack first?”

“Fine!” Kazrack snarled, and turned back to face the young giants.  “You are but children, be off with you before we spank your bottoms and make you run along.”

“You must come before Chief Hognir,” Deaghele said. “Now put away your weapons and come along.”

“Oh great queen Bast, though who art as nimble as though art powerful, allow me to see inside the hearts of these mortals so I may see their intentions towards us,” (2) Roland chanted softly, rubbing the golden cat’s eye engraved with an ankh around his neck.  

“What direction is your tribe?” asked Ratchis.

“Towards the old fort of your kin,” Deaghele replied.

“I sense no evil in these young giants,” the Bastite called to his companions.  “But I’d still rather not see their father.  I have no desire to be surrounded by giants.”

“I said, move along you giantish runts,” Kazrack barked. “I will stay my hand from caving in your skulls since you are not as disgustingly evil as most of your kin.”

“Kazrack, they hold us no malice,” Martin said in soothing tones and coming out from the brush, but leaving the llama behind.  He turned to the giants. “But… no offense, we would rather go our own way.”

“If you will not come then we must go and tell our kin,” said Smeaghele. “And you may not like it when our rangers find you.”

“Go off to your evil dark elfin mistress,” Deaghele said, as they both turned to move off. “She will not save you.”  And with that they took off through the trees with a speed that the belied their size.

“Yeah, get out of here!” Logan called after them. “Next time we might not be so nice.”

“It boils my blood that giants would accuse me, a dwarf, of being in league with evil,” Kazrack said, combing his beard with his fingers.

Ratchis nodded. “It seems no where am I safe from the prejudice of others.”

“Gods preserve me!” Logan rolled his eyes.  “A hulking half-orc and a dwarven warrior with hurt feelings, now I have seen everything.”

Ratchis snarled.  “Come on, let’s get out of here before they return with others.”

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

The Keepers of the Gate continued their eastward hustle.  The woods were not as thick here as they rounded the hill and then took off southward, following Ratchis’ lead.  Kazrack and Martin the Green began to fall behind, and though sure-footed, Fearless the Llama could not gain much speed either.  

They had not gone more than another mile or so, and the day’s light was growing long, when they saw a great mound where no trees or plants grew surrounded by over a score of the gray trees they had seen before.  The party moved to circumvent the area, when shapes began to erupt from the earthen mound. 

The dirt-encrusted corpses of a score of black orcs with chitinous hides crawled out the ground, old spears and axes in hands.  They moved with great speed, hunched over and snorting.

“Fresh flesh,” one of them hissed in the language of orcs.  He wore a rotting headdress of bones and feathers and stood nearly seven feet tall, wielding a rusted great sword in his hands, a large notch cut from it. Unlike the others, he was a high orc. (3)

“Hurry past them! Double-time!” Ratchis cried to his companions still running, but soon he realized that the undead orcs would cut the line of adventurers in half and separate them into two groups, so he stopped and doubled back.

“Come join us in the eternal war, brother!” cried the largest orc.

“_Destroy them!_” cried a high-pitched mellifluous voice, as a slight figure came tumbling out of the brush from the south, long sword in hand.  She had very light brown willowy hair, almost the color of straw, pale skin, delicate features, with the slightest upturn of her tiny nose, and large sparking green eyes. Her ears looked even pointier than those of other elves the party had met, and her face was nearly expressionless, except for the slightest hint of a smirk.  She wore leather armor, and a bluish-purple cloak with red trim, torn in one place and travel-stained.  

“Anarié!” cried Martin the Green.

“She must be possessed by a witch!” Ratchis called to his friends, worried her command had been to the undead and not to her former companions.  “Don’t hurt her. Stay together! Destroy the undead!”

The undead orcs came bursting through the trees as Dorn got down on his hands and knees and began to crawl towards one of the trees to fall asleep.  Logan fought off a wave of drowsiness and drew his long sword, moving to cut off the orcs’ approach to Martin.  The watch-mage led the frightened and spitting llama away from the attackers. 

“Rivkanal, fill me with your holy might and send these undead foes back to their graves so they may rot in their hells as they deserve,” Kazrack cried to his gods, grasping the pouch of runestones about his neck, but he could feel something about this unholy site resisted the power of his gods.

“Bah! We’ll chop these things down in a second! Out of my way, Stumpy!” Gunthar flew into the melee, both blades whirling and humming as the hacked at the first undead orc he met.  In a moment, he was happily creeping towards the next one.

“Death the world over! Death the world over!” several of the black orcs croaked in their language.

The tallest orc came charging at Ratchis with its great sword over its head, but at the last moment it clawed at the half-orc with cold black talons. Ratchis felt a eerily familiar coldness wash over him, but he shook it off.

“Beware, this is a wight!” Ratchis warned the others, swinging his own great sword to keep the creature at bay.  .

Stepping back, Ratchis called to his goddess to increase his strength, and Kazrack followed suit.

“Bah! You are still weak in Ashronk’s eye!” the wight said, swinging its sword downward.  Ratchis was barely able to parry the blow, and felt the shock run up his arm to his neck and shoulder with sharp needles of pain.

“I shall cleave your head and dedicate it to Krauchaar!” Kazrack roared, taking the top of one’s skull right off, but it did not fall.

“_Lentus!_” Martin chanted, but the spell had no effect.

“Great Cat Queen!  These abominations show great strength, please help me to show them your own,” Roland cried, clasping a hand to his holy symbol, and a wave of holy energy burst out from a spot twenty feet ahead of him, smiting the orcish undead.  Several fell, their animated force snuffed out, but Logan cried out in pain as well, as he instinctively tried to roll away from the spell’s effect, but he could not evade it completely.

“That hurt!” he complained, chopping open the chest of another orc, and then finishing it with another blow to the back of the head as it stumbled.

Gunthar laughed at the Herman-Lander, as he cut down yet another undead orc, moving through them like a scythe through the wheat, if wheat erupted into black ichor when it was cut. 

Kazrack hurried over to aid Ratchis as soon as he cut down the ghoul before him.  The undead orc chieftain was distracted, and the half-orc was able to cut deep into its thigh causing its defense to drop.  Kazrack’s halberd blade slid into its lower back, and was jerked back out bringing a chunk of black and rotted kidney with it.

“You will join our ancestors in hell!” Ratchis roared, and drove the point of his sword into the wight’s neck, twisting. The thing fell over, unmoving.

Anarié tumbled around one of the undead orcs that finally made it to her, and cut its leg out from under it.

Logan and Gunthar argued as they herded three of the ghouls between them, driving them back and forth with blows from their swords, and making their way towards each other with anger.  When the last orc fell, they stood facing each other and breathing hard, swords still raised as if ready to strike.

“Fortune smiles upon us that you would come this way,” Anarié said to her former companions.  She sheathed her sword, and placed a hand on her hip, flashing one of her rare smiles.  “Perhaps you can accomplish what the giants were unwilling to do.”

Martin walked over and stepped between Logan and Gunthar and the two warriors put their weapons away.

“And what is that?” Ratchis asked Anarié. He did not put his sword away.

“Cleanse this forest of the evil within it,” Anarié said. “The _real_ evil, that is…” 

“And what are you doing here?” Kazrack said, taking a place beside Ratchis, and still clutching his weapon as well.

Anarié’s face remained impassive, but her green eyes shone as they moved from one weapon and then the other.

“Business,” she replied. “Things that elves need take care of. I originally came here seeking out Aríon, who came here seeking Tirhas.”

“Nephthys! Please show me the intentions of our former companion so that we may choose freely with full knowledge of our circumstances,” Ratchis prayed openly to his goddess to _detect evil_.

The corner of Anarié’s mouth twitched into a momentary smirk.

“I am sorry, but many things have happened since you were gone and we cannot be too cautious,” the half-orc said in his rasping voice.

Anarié nodded.  They now noticed she carried several wounds, so Ratchis healed her with his goddess’ power.

“We return to Greenreed Valley to seek the entrance to Hurgun’s Maze,” Kazrack said.  “We do not have time to wander about this forest after the witch, but we still intend to help with that endeavor when times allows.”

Anarié shook her head. “Best leave the witches to my kin who are best prepared to handle the situation.  Soon, we will be traveling into the Plutonic Realms to investigate the plans of our evil brethren.”

“So, what is this real evil you spoke of?” the dwarf asked.

“The undead spirits of orcs haunt portions of this forest from a war long ago during the Second Great Wandering of Elves,” Anarié explained. (4) “But they are ruled by the undead spirit of elf, she must be destroyed.”

“So that is the evil elf lady the pixies mentioned?” Martin the Green asked walking over.  He and Logan had found a bag of old coins at the base of one of the trees when they pulled Dorn away from it, and he handed it to Ratchis.

Anarié paused.  “Yes.”

Martin’s brow furrowed.

“And who is this?” Anarié asked, as Roland walked over, and Logan joined them as well.  Introductions were made, but Logan only grunted his hello, taking the bag back from Ratchis and up-ending it to count through what it had.  There were many old silver dwarven obleks and a few Tempestas silver-leaves. (5)

As the money was divided, Anarié warned them of some of the features of the forest.

“Avoid the swamp directly east of here,” she said. “The lights there draw mortals to their deaths.”

“How shall we know when we approach this evil place?” Kazrack asked.

“It will be swampy,” Anarié said, with no hint of humor.

“How fares Aze Nuquerna?” asked Martin.

“Last time I was there Ethiel and the others were much concern over the rate of growth of the area of steam in Greenreed Valley.  It had gotten so it could be seen for miles, reaching into the sky, and was widening on a daily basis,” she replied.

“We’re not going there are we?” Logan asked.

“Stupid!  Of course we’re going there,” Gunthar replied. “Unless you might wet yourself…”

“We are sorry we cannot give you aid now, but you know how important it is that we reach the valley in time and deal with this threat,” Ratchis said to the elf.  “But perhaps we can escort your part of the way to where you need to go?”

“You need not worry. We all have our roles to play,” Anarié said.  “And I must be off to see to my own, but as my people say, ‘_A star shines brightly on the hour of our meeting_’ I take it as a good sign of our successes to come.”

“One last thing,” Martin asked. “Where is the _Right Blade of Arofel_?”  The mage had noticed the blade was not at her side. (6)

“Oh! I returned it to Ethiel to be placed in the vaults of Aze Nuquerna until such time it might be granted as a gift again, or some heir of Arofel or Jeremy come to claim it.”

Martin’s eyes narrowed. Something was not right about that answer.

“That would be me!” Gunthar said.  “We have to go get it!”

“After this is all done,” Ratchis said. “You can go wherever you want.”

“I can go wherever I want now.”

“Then go, who’s stopping you?” Logan snapped.

“What? And miss Ratchis having to wipe your ass and powder your bottom when we come across something worth fighting and you soil yourself while hiding behind a tree?” Gunthar said.

Logan’s hand went to the hilt of his sword.

“Enough! Let’s go!” Ratchis said.

They wished Anarié luck in her endeavors, and soon made their way through the forest again, turning north this time to avoid the swamp, and in a hope that the change in direction might throw off whatever giants might be tracking them.  Roland transformed back into panther form and took the rear of the line.

Martin the Green left the care of the llama to Gunthar and walked to the front to talk with Ratchis.  Sweat poured off the half-orc’s ridged brow with each great step he took, his head constantly turning from side to side to pick out the best path and to stay alert for any approaching dangers.

“Anarié was hiding something,” Martin said to his companion.

Ratchis grunted.

“Both when I asked her about the elf witch and about the Right the Blade of Arofel, she seemed to hesitate as if she were picking her words carefully,” the watch-mage added.

“I detected no evil,” Ratchis replied.  “And she never was one to talk much…”

“That might not mean anything,” Martin said.  “She might not have intended evil to us, but still be possessed by one of the drow witches.  Remember, Tirhas traveled with us while possessed and helped us quite a bit.” (7)

“Perhaps I should have checked for charm,” Ratchis said.  “But even if she is possessed, we cannot afford to be pulled off track now.  Autumn approaches, and we must be on that ridge when it arrives.” (8)

“We would abandon a friend to such a fate?” Martin asked in disbelief.

Ratchis shrugged his shoulders and grunted once again.   Martin called back for Kazrack to join them, and the half-orc sighed and slowed his pace.

They argued for a time, but in the end, Kazrack agreed with Ratchis, the Keepers of the Gate had to press on.  One day they would return to do their best to set to right all they had had to pass over.

Martin noticed that Logan had been hanging back, but had been in earshot the whole time.

Darkness crept over the forest from the east, and soon, Ratchis was looking for a good place to make camp, but before he could he was interrupted.

Roland came running up in panther form, whining and growling and throwing his head back towards the rear of the line.  They could now all hear something large smashing through the undergrowth, and in the dying light there appeared a giant of a man.  He was just over ten feet tall and wore studded leather armor.  A huge bastard sword was strapped to his back, and a large javelin in his hand.  He had long red hair braided in one great knot running down his back, and well-kept beard.

“Run!” cried Ratchis, turning to lead the way, but Kazrack turned around and brought his halberd before him, readying.

“Form a line!” the dwarf cried to his companions.  “We cannot outrun this foe!”

“Can we hide?” Logan asked.  Gunthar snickered, drawing his two swords and standing beside Kazrack.

“It is too late, but find cover,” Kazrack replied.

Ratchis growled and stopped, pulling his own sword reluctantly.

“Kazrack is right!” Martin said, still moving to get behind Ratchis.  

“Interlopers! Begone!” the giant boomed.  “You will not further desecrate this forest!”

“If you want us gone why do you keep trying to keep us from leaving?” Logan yelled back. He noticed a second giant with a long bow further back, crouched beside an ash tree.

“We only seek to leave this forest as quickly as we can!” Martin called to the giant.

“Trust me, you foul creature!  At any other time I would like nothing better than to knock your kneecaps off, but for now we must leave,” Kazrack’s hatred and anger bubbled in the spit at the corners of his mouth.

“We only want to go,” Ratchis re-iterated.

“Heh! We know you were negotiating with the witch’s elfin minion!” the giant replied.

---------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1) *DM’s Note:* This adventure was adapted from “_Things That Go Bump In The Night_” by Rich Stump, from Dungeon magazine #38.

(2)	*DM’s Note:* In Aquerra, the _detect evil_ only detects evil intention, and those creatures who are inherently evil, such as fiends.

(3)	High orcs and black orc never work together unless both are being led by some third greater power, such as in the times of the Humano-Orc Wars.

(4)	The Second Great Wandering of Elves is said to have begun in the Year 286 of the Third Age, about 1700 years before present time.

(5)	Tempestas’ money is created through a mysterious process where leaves are dipped in the molten metal, and as they disintegrate the metal takes the leaf’s shape.  The money is highly valuable in most places in central Aquerra.

(6)	_The Right Blade of Arofel_ was given as a gift from the elves of Aze Nuquerna to Jeremy Northrop, and upon his death it was given to Derek Jamison to hold.  Not long after young Derek was killed, the party gave the sword to Anarié.

(7)	In the Honeycombe (see sessions #23 & 24)

(8) The party learned this in the map room beneath the Pit of Bones (see Session #62)


----------



## Manzanita

Very interesting.  I hope we do see some closure on the drow witch issue.


----------



## handforged

Anarie's "Destroy Them!" was quite ambiguous, good job portraying her words.  She definitely seemed to be hiding something, even before the party brought it up.

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

*#76 (part 2 of 2)*

*Session #76 (part 2 of 2)*

“We seek no quarrel with you or your kin,” Martin the Green said, coming forward with both hands raised in the air.  Dorn followed not too far behind him, loaded crossbow in hand and sweat dripping down his face.  “And we seek no challenge against your rule here.  We have only stopped when attacked or harassed by the fey, but we only seek to continue on and out of the forest to the east.  Let us pass and we will not trouble or your kind; that we do swear.”

The giant was silent for a time, and when he spoke again he did not yell, though it was clear from his clenched jaw and fiery eyes that his anger had not abated.

“Fine, mage,” he said. “You may go on, but if you tarry again you shall face our wrath.  The drow shall face it soon enough.”

“Tell us of this drow…” Kazrack began, but the giant scowled and Martin turned on the dwarf.

“We have no time to chat, we must be on our way,” he turned back to the giant.  “We hope not to trouble you again.”

“You had better do more than hope,” the giant replied. “Know that you shall be watched.”

The giant walked calmly towards his brethren and then both melted into the shadows.  The last lights of day died beyond the tree behind them.

“We need to keep moving now,” Ratchis said when the giants were gone.

“We’ve been marching all day,” Logan complained.  “How can we even be sure we’ll get out of this wood any time soon? And then, when the giants fall upon us we’ll be exhausted. Better we find a secluded place to camp, rest up and if the giants come upon us tomorrow we’ll be better prepared to fight them.”

“Aw! Ickle wickle little man’s feetses hurts him!” Gunthar mocked. “He needs his momma’s teat to suck on.”

Kazrack suggested Martin levitate up and check how far it was before there was too little light. The watch-mage agreed, but he soon returned shaking his head. 

“It is too dark already,” Martin reported. “I can see another river, perhaps three or four leagues away, and that may be edge of the forest, but I cannot tell.  There was also some kind of cleft or ravine in a barren hill, maybe two leagues northeast of here, that may provide shelter…”

The watch-mage shrugged his shoulders and a light rain began to fall.

“We should keep going and try our best to get as far as we can from the giants, the orc fort, the undead and anything else that might delay us,” said Ratchis.

“I agree,” Martin said.  “Or at the very least make for the ravine.  It may not be part of the giants’ territory and it may be defensible if it is and they come for us… if not we can rest.”

“I still think we should stay,” Logan said. “It is a common enough tactic to allow your foe to tire himself out.  The giants could be doing just that.”

“I take them at their word and would rather not fight them,” said Ratchis.

“I would never trust a giant’s word,” Kazrack grumbled.  “I, too, think we should stay, or at the very least make for the ravine.  Marching onward through the night seems like a fool’s choice.”

“Are you saying I am a fool?” Ratchis growled.

”No, D’nar,” Kazrack replied, abashed. “But you do not know the tales of the craftiness and evil of giant-kind that are told by my people. If you did, you might choose differently.”

“Are they anything like the tales of my kin?” Ratchis asked.

”You are an exception,” Kazrack said.  “And you cannot say that any orc we have met on our journeys have not reinforced that.”

It was Ratchis’ turn to grumble.

“And you Roland?” Martin turned to the panther. “Do you want to stay?”

The panther bobbed its head up and down, but then growled and stalked over towards the northeast and jerked its head in that direction.

”I think he wants to either stay or make for the ravine,” Martin said.  The panther bobbed its head again.

“The pussy is right,” Gunthar said. “If we are going to have to fight them anyway, I say we stay here, but if we have to go, let’s go to the ravine, or else little man might cry if he has to walk all night.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed.

“Fine, let us make for the ravine, then,” said Kazrack, looking to Ratchis. “It is a reasonable compromise and we can make the distance in two hours.”


------
Two hours became nearly four in the darkness of the cold rainy night and through the tangled roots and many bushes of the old forest.

The ravine was more of a huge barren cleft in a grassy hill.  Rains slid down in great torrents on one side, echoing against the opposite wall and making muddy puddles in the floor.  Twisted gray vines lined the ravine’s walls, and a jumble of roots atop a rocky outcropping made a natural shelter large enough for most of the group and the llama as long as two stood outside on watch.

However, before making camp the others grumbled in the constant rain as Ratchis hurried about searching for tracks and looking down the narrow crack that ran down the rear wall.

The half-orc returned shaking his head.

“The ground here looks swept or combed,” he said. “Like someone covered tracks, or perhaps this is the entrance to something’s home and they keep it clean.  There are no bird’s nests and no droppings or bones around.  We can’t stay here.”

Logan groaned.

“This place looks perfectly natural to me,” Martin replied, his long brown hair plastered to his face, his eyes were sunken and dark rings had begun to settle about them over the last few days.  The light of one of the medallions Kazrack had made cast long shadows in the gloom.

“If something dangerous lives here as I suspect and the giants come we will be doubly endangered,” Ratchis replied.

“Maybe if something dangerous lives here the giants won’t come,” Logan speculated.

“That doesn’t seem like a good argument for staying, if whatever is here frightens giants we had best be scared of it too,” Ratchis said.

“Maaaaw,” said Fearless and shook his soaked coat.

“Meowrrr,” Roland cried angrily and his form shifted to that of a tiny cat again, and he leapt under the blankets rolled up atop the llama’s back.

“Face it Little Man, it is Snuffles’ way or no way,” Gunthar said, wagging his eyebrows, as he patted the llama’s neck to keep it calm.  “He loves to tell people what to do. You’re lucky he isn’t like most pig-f*ckers or else you’d be taking the place of his woman every night.”

“Kind of like how you use that llama to take the place of your woman?” Logan sneered.

“Well, if it was between the llama and your momma for a girlfriend, I’d be hard-pressed to choose, I mean the llama is hairier, but at least it doesn’t smell half as bad as your rotten momma does,” Gunthar replied calmly.  “Probably a better lay than your momma, too. Then again, whores get lots of practice.”

Logan sprang at Gunthar, his long sword suddenly in hand.  The Neergaardian was barely able to leap back in time to save himself.  As it was, the blade hacked his knee, and Gunthar stumbled backwards and onto the ground.

Fearless let out a frightened “Maaaaaaw!”

Gunthar climbed to his feet and drew his own sword, as Logan was upon him again.  His face was pale with sweat, and blood was still running down his calf.  He hobbled back and the two blades rang.  Gunthar’s defense was barely adequate and he was beaten back before he could get a good footing, his face an ugly grimace of pain as he forced his injured leg to hold him up.

“Enough!” Ratchis roared, leaping between them.  Kazrack pulled Gunthar away.

“Come on! Let me give it to him like I gave it to his momma,” Gunthar yelled.  “I promise it will only be half as bloody!”

“We should have let him kill you,” Kazrack swore.

“Nice, Stumpy,” Gunthar said, grimacing.  He dropped back to the ground and ripped open his pants leg to clean out the nasty wound Logan has dealt him.  “I guess little men have to stick together.”

“I told you not to mention my mother again,” Logan said, his expression cold as ice.

“Oh shut up, ya little ninny,” Gunthar said. “You are lucky they broke it up because I would have killed you. Don’t think this is done.  I don’t friggin’ take someone trying to kill me lightly.  I will put you in the ground!”

Logan tensed again.

“I said, enough!” Ratchis roared again. “When this is all done you can have at it with swords as much as you like, but until then stay away from one another.”

”He just tried to kill one of your companions and that’s the best you have to offer?” Gunthar complained. “And you call yourselves virtuous men? Virtuous pig-f*ckers?  You are the worst kind of hypocrites!”  The Neergaardian stood and Kazrack healed him.

“If what you said is true I would not have healed you,” Kazrack said.  “But Rivkanal teaches compassion.”

“Whatever you need to believe to feel better about yourself, Stumpy,” Gunthar stood, and picking up his sword, sheathed it.  He threw Logan a look that might have killed.

Roland let out an amused mew, while Dorn and Martin stood watching the exchange in shock.

“Logan,” Kazrack said, drawing the Herman-lander away. “If you cannot hold your steel you will have to leave.  I want to teach him a lesson as much as you do, but our quest is too important.  Kill him later if you must.”

 “Perhaps I will leave and rejoin you later,” Logan replied, quietly.

“I wish you would stay,” Kazrack said. “As I said, you can kill him when we are done. It will be all the sweeter for withholding it for so long.”

“I’ll think on it.”

“I’ve often wanted to kill him, too,” Kazrack offered.

“Then why not?”

“We need his sword, and yours as well,” Kazrack said. “Our mission is greater than any of our desires.  I want to find a wife, raise a family, forge swords…” The dwarf looked off into the darkness wistfully.

“What? No axes?” Logan said, finally smiling.

“Well, axes, too…”

“I was about to say that would be undwarfly of you.”

“You would not be the first to say so.”

“As if it were so bad if your momma was a whore,” Gunthar grumbled, hobbling along as the Keepers of the Gate continued their forced march through the night a few minutes later. “After my dad stopped sending money, me own Ma took eight or twelve cocks a night and was well-paid for it.  And we needed the coin.”

Isilem, the 9nd of Keent – 565 H.E.

Morning found them encumbered by sleeplessness. Step after step they plodded on and twice Ratchis had to double back to whisper in the llama’s ear and soothe it into cooperating.  Otherwise it sat and brayed, spitting whenever its rope was pulled on.

“Will this forest ever end?” Logan complained. “At least a road with a roadside tavern. It would be a nice change.”

“Where are you from?” asked Dorn, falling in beside him.

“Teamsburg,” Logan replied.

“Uh-huh, I been there once before,” Dorn mumbled sleepily.

“It has probably changed a lot since your last visit,” Logan smirked.  “Half of it burned and the other half rioted.  It was beautiful.”

“Eh, at least you got out,” Dorn replied. “And didn’t have to go to war.  The first I got whiff of that conscription I came adventuring in Derome-Delem.  I figured if I could not be counted I could not be missed.”

“I wouldn’t have had to go to the war.  They have a way of losing track of an influential watch-mage’s son’s conscription papers.  I mean, my father would have insisted I go, it being ‘fair” and all, but I made sure it was never an issue,” Logan laughed. “Fighting somebody else’s war is sh*te and all, but to run away from war right into certain death? Does that make sense?”

“I could be safely back in Cutter Jack’s and living of the gold Flora and Bones and I found in that old fortress, but Nephthys saved me for a reason, so I mean to help Ratchis as much as possible,” Dorn replied.  “But I’m not suicidal either, I still haven’t decided if I am going into Hurgun’s Maze. By all accounts, that place will be no joke.”

“You are going in the wrong direction!” cried a high-pitched voice from up in a tree.

“Yeah!” concurred two more.  The three pixies appeared, bending down to look at them with furrowed brows and arms folded across their chests; their wings buzzed angrily.”

“You are going deeper into the forest and will anger the giants and they will smash you!” said the red-headed pixie.  “Can’t say you wouldn’t deserve it.”

Everyone stopped and Ratchis took a quick look around and then frowned.

“They are lying,” whispered Martin to the half-orc. “I am certain we are going the right way.  I got a decent view when I checked last night.”

Ratchis nodded.  He checked the wind and looked up at the sun three times. It burned dully from behind a thin cover of gray that stretched from horizon to horizon.  He was certain they still traveled due east.

“Okay, okay! You figured out our trick!  We admit it, but still are going to miss talking to Old Man Tree and Mister Rock Man, and they can tell you all about the captured elf-lord that needs your help.”

“Shut up!  You said too much!” one of the dark haired pixies smacked the red-headed one in the back of the head and the third one laughed.

“Mister Rock Man is liable to ground them up into little colored pebbles, anyway,” said the red-headed pixie, rubbing his head as he sulked.

“Mister Rock Man?  Old Man Tree? Sounds like a fairy tale gone awry,” Logan said.

“Whaddya want? We’re faeries!” the dark-haired pixie on the left squealed angrily.

“Maybe we should go talk to these men,” Martin suggested. “They may have some lore we need.”

“It is likely to be another of their tricks,” Kazrack frowned.  “Ignore them.”

“Trick or not, we don’t have time,” Ratchis added.

The tiny kitten on the llama leapt to the ground, its form growing nearly liquid for a moment as it turned into Roland. He was aghast.

“A friar of Nephthys is going to ignore the good possibility of someone is being held captive against their will somewhere in this wood and just go along his merry way?”

“I pray for Nephthys to forgive me,” Ratchis rasped in reply. “I would like nothing better than to look into this and free a captive if it needs to be done, but we have no time. We must be there when the light shines at dawn on that day or else we cannot hope to figure out how to get in Hurgun’s Maze, and if we cannot do that and someone else figures out a way to do so, all of Derome-Delem would be at risk.  A choice needs to be made and I have made it.”

“For all of us, it seems,” Roland replied.

“You are free to do as you please,” Ratchis said.  “You chose to come along with us.”

“Forgive me, Ratchis.  I should not presume to tell you how to honor your goddess,” Roland looked right into Ratchis’ eyes, and then looked down demurely. “I am tired. We have not slept or ate in too long.”

“Ooh! That cat’s got a silver tongue,” said the red-headed pixie.

“Is Old Man Tree a pixie? Is he your leader?” Martin asked.

“No!” all three pixies replied together.

“I’m the leader! said the red-headed one.

“No! I’m the leader,” said the dark-haired one on the right.

“No way! I’m oldest and wisest,” said the third.

“Wisdom is overrated,” said the second.

“Wait. Which of you is the leader?  I think from now on we’re only going to talk to the leader,” Martin said.

The pixies fell to arguing among themselves about who was leader once again, and then it devolved into invisible fisticuffs.

“I guess I am not the only one around here with a silver tongue,” Roland winked at Martin.

“Ew! I’ve seen where he puts his tongue, Marty.  I don’t think that’s a compliment,” Gunthar snorted when he laughed at his own joke. 

”You’d do it too if you could reach,” Roland quipped.

“Heh. You’ll try anything at sea,” Gunthar replied with a grin.

“Enough.  Let’s keep going,” Kazrack said.

“To the Old Man Tree?” Two of the pixies were still fighting, but one of the dark-haired ones had extricated himself.  “Be careful,” he placed his cupped hand to his mouth and whispered. “The goatfoats are near there and they don’t like men or cats.”

“What is he talking about?” Logan said with a look of skepticism.

“Satyrs. Half-man, part-goat.  They like to have sex and hit people with sticks,” Martin replied.

“Ha! You might get some after all!” Gunthar laughed, and Logan shot him a glare.

The party was about to begin their march again. When the pixies called to Kazrack.  “Lots of _kafka_ mushrooms grow near there.” (1)

The dwarf’s eyes widened, but then he frowned.  “That means there’s a cave near there. Another trick.  Unless you’d be willing to go and bring us some.”

“Or _Moonless Midnight Mushrooms_,” said one of the other pixies, he was sitting atop the head of the red-headed pixie who lay across the thick branch of a tree huffing and puffing.

“What are those?” Kazrack asked.

“Delicious, hallucinogenic and deadly,” Martin answered.  

“Where can we find those?” He asked the pixies.

“Go see Mister Rock Man,” replied the red-headed pixie.

“Why do you want those?” Kazrack asked.

“They are very rare and are reputed to have magical properties,” Martin replied.

Logan frowned and looked to Ratchis who snorted his disapproval.

“Is this elf-lord a captive of the witch?” Roland asked the pixies.

“Maybe so,” they replied coyly.

“I say we go free the elf and piss off the witch,” Logan suggested.

“And her guardian,” one of the dark-haired pixies added and then covered his mouth.

“Is Mister Rock Man the guardian?” Roland asked.

“No, it’s the Black Beast,” the red-headed pixie said.

“This gets worse all the time,” Logan said. “Forget the whole thing.  Ratchis is right.  Let’s go.”

The pixies began to whine and complain.

“They’re leaving the elf-lord to die,” one of the pixies cried.

Kazrack stopped and sighed and looked at Ratchis who had also stopped, and then the dwarf turned to look at the pixies opened his mouth and then closed it again.  He scratched at his beard and finally said, “We will go seek out the captured elf-lord if you make an oath to not hinder or harm us along the way.”

The pixies each imitated the dwarf’s mannerisms and finally the dark haired one on the right asked, “Would telling the Goatfeet you were coming count as ‘hindering’?”

Kazrack looked to Martin. 

“Satyrs,” was all the watch-mage said.

Kazrack turned back to the pixies, “Yes.”

“Yeah, we can’t promise that,” replied the first.

“Nope. No we can’t,” agreed the second.

”We promise!” said the third, nodding his head vigorously.

“Yes! Yes! We _promise_!” the first two said, now nodding as well.

Kazrack sighed again, and Ratchis grunted.

Logan grumbled and Gunthar and Roland laughed. Martin only smiled.

“We are leaving,” said Kazrack.

The Keepers of the Gate marched until Ra’s Glory had reached its zenith and then collapsed. The forest was only a shadow behind them.

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

Hours later at Ratchis’ urging they picked up and moved camp a few leagues to the east, where a steep hill gave way to an even steeper drop on the other side.  The Keepers of the Gate made their way to the top and took in the view.

In the far distant, beneath the creeping gloom of evening there was a dull red glow that covered the earth.  A stiff warm wind blew across the top of the ridge, and the sky above the glow was black and roiling, at times tongues of what could only be flames shot way up into the air and then shattered into thousands of dying fireflies.

“How far away is that?” Kazrack asked.

“That’s Greenreed Valley, “ Martin replied, solemnly.   Ratchis nodded.

There was a long silence.

“Looks like a forest fire,” the half-orc finally said.

“War,” said Logan. “Soldiers burn and pillage.”

“Could it be the neighboring kingdom… the Setites, what is it called?” asked Roland, transforming to his human shape once again.

“Menovia,” answered Ratchis.

“More likely they went to war with the gnomes,” Kazrack said.

“It could be the influence of the Maze.  There is a plane of fire,” Martin said. “It is one of the greater Otherworlds…muh-made entirely of fire and molten rock. It could be leaking through to our world. Remember the great many-headed snail we encountered.” (2)

Again there was a long silence as they watched the glow brighten, as the surrounding sky grew dark.  

“Was not the temple of Bast in Gothanius right on the border to Greenreed Valley?” Roland asked, already knowing the answer.  “We must go there first.”

“We are not going anywhere near there,” said Ratchis.

“What?” Roland’s face looked as if someone had just passed noxious gas.

“We need to find where the beam of light will hit on the ridge and then reflect to show us the entrance to Hurgun’s Maze,” Ratchis replied. “We do not know how long it will take to find the proper spot, and others may be looking for it.  We must be careful and let no one know we are back.  The temple of Bast is too close to Summit.  Someone might see us.”

“It is nearly three weeks before the proper alignment of the sun will occur,” Roland said. “Unless you told me wrong back at Mercy’s house.”

“We don’t know how long it will take to find,” Ratchis said very slowly. “And we cannot afford to meet any distractions along the way. And if the Gothanians have attacked the gnomes I would rather not know, for it would be difficult to ignore that to insure we get into the Maze.”

Roland’s jaw dropped open. “Are you joking, Ratchis?”

“He never jokes,” said Gunthar, laughing. 

The Bastite ignored him and continued. “That is a slippery slope you tread on, Ratchis,” he said. “You cannot fool the gods or your own conscience by remaining willfully ignorant.”

Ratchis shrugged his shoulders.

“I am afraid I must insist we go to the temple of my goddess,” Roland continued. “It is my duty to see the place and see what harm has come to it, and it might be a place we can hide and rest until the time comes to enter the Maze.”

“We cannot risk it,” Kazrack said, agreeing with his long-time companion.

Roland’s mouth opened again and he let out a confused sigh that turned into a growl.  He looked to Martin the Green, but the watch-mage simply looked down as his own feet silently.

“If it were a dwarven temple threatened by a malevolent force, what then?” Roland asked the dwarf, his voice rising in pitch, as he grew angrier.

“I would still ignore it,” the dwarf replied, solemnly.  “The fate of Derome-Delem is more important than a single temple.”

“I may have to go on my own then,” Roland replied, letting the steam out of his demeanor.

“You promised to help us!” Now it was Kazrack’s turn to be angry.

“Enough,” Ratchis sighed. “He must do what his heart tells him, and so must we all, fighting now solves nothing.  I see a trail down this ridge that we should be able to use even in this light, and then we’ll make camp.”

The half-orc began the descent, and the others followed, except for Roland who transformed into his panther form and stalked off into the darkness.  He did not return to camp until dawn, carrying three small rabbits in his jaws.  He ate one raw and whole, and Ratchis undercooked the other two, but the party ate them anyway.


Teflem, the 13th of Keent – 565 H.E.

The next few days they crossed many streams, and many smaller woods of younger trees. The nights were growing colder, but the glow from Greenreed Valley was growing brighter and closer.  Less than three days from the valley, ashy breezes would sweep across them every few hours, making their eyes burn and tossing up the dry earth.  The trees and plants were all covered in a thin film of gray and everything seemed sickly and dying.

Ratchis and Logan took off to scout ahead, and the others eventually caught up to them where they had found the charred corpses of several gnolls at the base of a scorched tree. Several spots looked like they had been burning for quite some time.

“What could have done this?” Logan asked.

“The dragon?” speculated Kazrack.

”I don’t think so,” Martin replied.  Roland crept up, still in his panther form, and sniffed the bodies and then moved quickly away.  “Though it certainly looks like a flash fire of some sort.” 

“They have spear wounds in addition to their burns,” Ratchis said.  “And I found some kind of large bird tracks. Most were ruined by the falling ash and winds, but it was some kind of large bird, maybe five feet tall, long legs, probably flightless.”

Martin the Green shrugged his shoulders. He knew of no creatures that matched that description.  Suddenly, he noticed a translucent orb floating near Kazrack, and he knew no one else could see it. (3)

”We are being watched,” Martin hissed.

“Point me towards the foul orb,” Kazrack said, grabbing hold his pouch of runestones, and Martin pointed. “Natan-ahb, I call on you to cast the shadow of the First Mountain across this wicked arcane eye so that it may obscure the vision of our vile foes.”

“Very good,” said Martin when he saw the orb disappear. Kazrack laughed and reaching up clapped Martin on the back.

“Do you think it was Richard?” Kazrack asked.

“Probably.”

“Or Rindalith,” added Ratchis.

That night they camped under some thorny trees that had resisted the various fires they now found signs of every few miles.  They did not dare make a fire of their own.


Anulem, the 14th of Keent – 565 H.E.

The next morning they were in a thick wood again, but here the ash was an even thicker blanket on everything, and in places trees still smoked and smoldered, but a consistent rain kept any threat of flames spreading at bay.

The tall ridge wall of Greenreed Valley was visible whenever the clouds parted to let the sunlight through for a moment before sealing it away again.  The forest floor banked slightly upwards towards the valley as they approached just slightly south of west.  

Ratchis noticed there was no sound of birds or other small animals or insects.  There was only the ‘splut’ of fat raindrops in the ash, covering everything in a disgusting black and brackish paste. 

Just after noon they walked through an open field marked with low barren trees and an occasional coniferous bush that looked like great motionless gray balls of dust.  In some place the trees and bushes were clumped closely together, causing the party to go wide around them, but mostly they were spread fairly widely apart.  Much of the landscape was burned here as well.

Ratchis led, as usual, with Logan close behind him.  The half-orc stopped and pointed.  Logan could see small puffs of smoke appearing from up head on the banked ground.  Something approached from the direction of the valley, something moving fairly quickly, but that was low to the ground.

“Stop! Something is coming,” Ratchis raised his hand.

Now they could all see shapes moving through the trees and bushes.  At first only a head would be visible for a moment, and then a spearhead hopping up and down for several dozen yards, before disappearing behind a tree or bush.  Puffs of smoke and flashes of fire accompanied the quickly arriving creatures. 

“We need to hide!” Martin cried.

“Too late,” Kazrack gasped.  At least a score of creatures came bursting through the trees charging in their direction.  Short squat dull gray reptilian men armored in chainmail were coming.  They wore half-helms fitted to their heads with a long folded ridge that protruded from the bottom to protect their snouts.  Smoke rose from their nostrils as they snorted and hissed.   Many held spears, but also had fierce looking battle-axes hanging on the flanks of their mounts, which they urged on.  The mounts were strange beasts, five foot at the shoulder; they had two clawed legs with bird-like taloned feet that carried their awkward bodies forward with great strides.  The creatures were covered in fine scales and had long necks that held their misshapen heads low to the ground.  They had large eyes with cowl-like ridged lids.  Their mouths were like a beak of tortoise shell, and when they squawked small gouts of fire shout out from them. 

The strange warriors fell into a two phalanx formations.  One group brought the spears down and charged right towards the Keepers of the Gate, while the second turned off to approach from the south, sliding their spears away and drawing their battle axes.

“Form a line! Form a line!” Kazrack cried.  Gunthar cursed and dragged the llama into some thick brush, hoping it might be safe there for a time.

*End of Session #76* 

----------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1) Kafka is a coffee like beverage made from steeped subterranean mushrooms. It is common to dwarves and gnomes.

(2) The dire flaming flail snail. (see session #18)

(3) *DM’s Note:* At this point Martin was casting _Detect Scrying_ (which lasts 24 hours) everyday at noon.


----------



## el-remmen

So I was halfway through Session #87 when the boards went ka-blooey and kicked us all the way back to the middle of Session #76.

I just post the second part of #76 and will endeavor to post two or three a day ending with brand new post concluding Session #87 to be followed by Commentary for Sessions #82 through #87.


----------



## el-remmen

*Commentary on Sessions #73 thru #76*

The last two installments I put up are the perfect example of PCs just ignoring adventure hooks.  

Well, not really ignoring because I must commend them on their role-playing the discussion of the moral ramifications and the physical consequenes of their just going along doing what they have to do, but I did dangle bait in front of them several times with Anarie's strange behavior and the hints the pixies were dropping, and the players knew it.  

But they also knew that I am more than willing to play out the consequences of any of their choices and if they are late arriving at the valley it may play it very badly for them. . . So, just like in real life, they could not know what would happen one way or another, they just had to make the best choice they could.  There will be many more hard choices before the campaign ends.

As I knew that at this point we were heading to the end of the campaign, this adventure they skipped was an attempt to give some kind of resolution to the drow witch sub-plot - nowhere near perfect and ultimate resolution, but something satisfying they could take with them into the final sessions of the game - but that was not to happen.  Again, I totally understand why the PCs/players made the decisions they did - you can't get something for nothing in Aquerra - and I will always run this setting that way.

But I can't reveal any of the secrets they may have learned if they had sought out the captured elf-lord or followed Anarie or questioned her more closely, or were taken before the fir-bolg chieftain, as these will remain undiscovered for some future campaign, perhaps. . .

Other things I can reveal.

In session #73, the ruined giant houses on the bluff revealed a group of inbred giants of incredible stupidity and great ferocity.  The site was the ruins of an ancient fire giant kingdom that once stretched over large portion of Derome-Delem in the Second Age - and the party would have found some interesting old artifacts from that culture that would have been very valuable and some lore carved in walls that Martin might have liked - but in terms of the overarching plot of the campaign - there was nothing there.

The wyvern lair would have been an interesting encounter as well, there was a nest of baby wyverns there that would have been a nasty fight.  If the wyvern had spotted someone it would have scooped him up and brought him back to the lair for the young precipitating the PCs going after him (I assume).  I always love rescues.  Luck and quick-thinking got them past that without confrontation.

The gathering of orcs of Ratchis' (in sessions #73 and #74), however, did have something to do with the overall plot, and was meant to do two things: 1) remind the PCs about the dragon, and 2) foreshadow something that will occur in another eight sessions or so.  Again, this was an opportunity to learn something, but also an opportunity to be delayed or even killed - so there was a choice there for the PCs and they continued to make the same one.

The troll in session #74 was just there to break up the monotony of the trip, but the dead gnomes and the things found in the troll lair was meant as a clue to the nearby gnome community (called Grozny), which is where the party discovered they were being scried by not one, but three people.  One of those orbs was from the gnomes, but the other two?  Well, let's just say one was Richard the Red. . .the other I will leave a mystery.  And the hallucinatory terrain was theirs as well.

The gnome community was supposed to be a place for the PCs to rest, gain information about the area and pick up some young dwarven followers for Kazrack.  Orphans who had been raised by the gnomes but were ready to go out in the world.  Obviously, this never happened - but the campaign would certainly be different at this point if it had.

The dwarven fortress was to serve several purposes.  It was a place Kazrack could drop off those dwarven orphans (if he had picked them up), or cull them so he only had those followers he wanted. It was to show that the dwarves the party had once traveled with had arrived safely to Abarrane-Abaruch, and to introduce another political component to the overarching plot - i.e. the benefits/dangers of having a gathering legion of dwarves just west of Greenreed Valley.  Interestingly, Kazrack never mentioned this aspect of the fortress' function to the rest of the PCs.  To this day they have no idea of the lingering threat to the peace that is nearby.

Oh, and I nearly forgot Roland. Since Roland's player went missing for three or four sessions in a row and I was not sure if he would be coming back I had him disappear, and when we finally straightened out his attendance problem and was going to come back, the dwarven fortress provided the perfect place for that to happen.  Sure, there was a chance the party might not want him back and then the player would have needed to make a new character, I guess.

When Logan attacked Gunthar in session #76, he caught him flat-footed (i.e. sneak attack damage) and scored a crit.  Gunthar went from full hit points to being critically injured in two hits.  It is unlikely that he would have prevailed over Logan if the others had not broken up the fight.  In the next session or so, Gunthar will go off on his own (at least temporarily), which I did because he needed to deal with his powder for his Can-On, but also from a meta-game point of view I did not want Logan's player to be stuck in this tense situation all the time that strained his relationship with the other PCs - so I figured a break (perhaps even a permanent one) was in order - esp. since PCs should get the benefit over NPCs in these kinds of situations.

Happy New Year Everybody!

I think in this coming year I plan to write more of these commentaries every few installments or so. . and may go back and do some overviews of the whole campaign, or at least sets of sessions.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #77* (complete)

“Maaaw!” cried Fearless, not living up to his name, as  Gunthar hurried back out of the brush, with a javelin drawn, readying for when the strange draconic creatures came into range.  The llama was deep in some thorny bushes.

“Use the trees for cover so that can’t charge right into you!” Ratchis advised, and then calling to his goddess cast a spell on Roland to help him resist heat and fire.  Roland, who was actually in human form for a change, his chain shirt jangling over his fine clothes, called to his goddess to grant him _divine power_.

“_Lorca Magica_!” Martin chanted, casting _Mage Armor_ on himself. 

Dorn fired a crossbow bolt at the lead creature, but the bolt went wide and he scrambled behind a tree to stay near Martin as he reloaded.

Gunthar let loose with his javelin, but it landed short and skittered away harmlessly.  He drew his swords.

Frightened of the fire-breathing creatures charging at them, Roland took the time to protect himself even further, as the first of the creatures came upon them.  He moved to the back of the group, ducking behind a thorny bush as he loaded his crossbow.

Logan has been waiting patiently, and as one charged him he side-stepped and brought his sword across the flank of the reptile mount. It cawed and coughed, as steaming blood exploded from its wound.  Logan cried out alarmed.

Gunthar batted away the bite of one of the beaky mouthed mounts, but grunted as his chain shirt turned away a heavy blow from the rider’s spear.  He ignored the rider and chopped at the mount, scoring a deep wound in its neck, but its scaly hide turned away most of his short sword blow.

Kazrack roared as the beak of one of the mounts crunched into the black greave of his plate mail, drawing blood. He pried the thing loose with the blade of his halberd, cracking its beak, and then brought the pole arm around to graze the head of the rider, who reared up his mount.

“I will knock you from your saddle,” Kazrack swore.

“Logan! Protect my flank,” Ratchis commanded, pointing to his left with his great sword as he marched into the fray.  “Dorn! Protect Martin!”

“_Lentus!_” Martin chanted, and four of the strange fire-breathing reptile-birds slowed down as their riders cursed them in their hissing language.  One of the rider’s hissing was slowed down as well, and his spear waved back and forth as if he were carrying a flag instead.

One of the riders noticed Roland and charged at him.  The Bastite let his bolt fly and it caught the rider in the helmet, but it kept on coming.   The two-legged mount reared at a command from its rider and spat a ball of flame that engulfed the bush.  Roland was barely able to leap away, swatting at his clothing with a free hand.

Woosh! And then, woosh, again! The monstrous mounts breathed out flame and soon there was a ring of fire leaping from tree to bush, penning the Keepers of the Gate in.

There was another grunt from Kazrack as the creatures that were coming from the right flank arrived.  He felt the bite of a battle-axe against his helm and nearly lost his footing, but instead he swung around and finished the first one that fell upon him, and its mount took off in fear.

Ratchis felt the bite of a spear as he charged a rider that was charging him. Grimacing through the pain, he cleft the rider in twain and then sent the giant striding lizard-bird on it way with nasty chop to the face.

“Ah! Ha!” Gunthar cried with joy as he chopped down the rider in front of him, taking a moment to shove his long sword through its face to make sure it was dead.

“_Lentus!_” Martin chanted again, and now two more riders were slowed, along with one of the arriving mounts.

Kazrack turned away from a breath of flame directed at his side, and cleaved another rider off of his mount, and then stabbed another as his mount came in to bite.  The dwarf ducked.

“Krauchaar! I dedicate to you this song of snapping bone and rending sinew!” the dwarf praised his gods as he fought.

Gunthar cursed, cutting into the now riderless mount before him, as it bit him in the hip, where his chain shirt did not provide much protection.  Everyone’s eyes began to water from the smoky air,  as soot settled on their faces, blackening them.  The thing turned and ran, and Gunthar gave chase, being brought into the midst of three of the battle-axe wielding reptilian-riders. 

“Chop! Chop!” He cried, giddily, and he slashed all three of them and leaping, turned around to wait for them to awkwardly bring their mounts to face him.  “I got enough of this for all of you!”

Logan leapt back smiling to avoid the bite of one of the bird-things, and it stumbled, tumbling over and dropping its mount.  Ratchis side-stepped and chopped an arm off the prone rider, and then brought the point of his sword through its chest.  Logan chopped through the mounts long neck with his long sword. 

Martin hurried about a flaming tree as he saw one of the riders charging in his direction, and bumped right into the spear of another.  He cried out and a shaft of green and black flame engulfed him, as he felt the cold pull of the _Book of Black Circles_ on his soul, tempting him to use its power to snuff out all of these fire-breathing lizardmen at once.  The green flame shot up the creature’s spear and he was burned by the cold fire. His corpse smoked like a block of dry ice.

The combat grew more chaotic, as the stomping of the party’s feet and the great strides of the reptile-bird-beasts stirred up a cloud of ash that obscured everyone’s vision. Only Martin’s infernal mantle of flame broke through the haze.  The ashen ground, already swollen by rain, became a huge puddle of blood-soaked muck, with dying mounts flailing and screeching in the darkness of the cloud.  Branches burned and fell, and hissed, and the creatures were coming in from all sides.

Dorn dropped his crossbow unable to get a shot and drew his sword, cutting wildly as a mounted opponent rode past him.  He felt the deep bite of an axe to the back of his neck, and only the steel collar he wore connected to his chain shirt saved his life. He fell to the ground, and began to desperately crawl away. 

“And you! And you!” Gunthar said, cutting down two riders and coughing, wiping his eyes as he tried to get a good look at his next target.

Logan sent a rider’s axe, hand and all, flying high in to the air, and he sliced its neck open as it fell.  A stab to the flank sent the mount running. 

Ratchis roared as he swung his great sword back and forth wildly, cutting down riders and mounts alike, as they tore at him with axe and beak.  Kazrack sent one rider sliding through the muck as he cut the mount out from under him, and Roland smashed the thing’s head open with his light mace.

A strong wind blew the cloud low for a few moments, and Kazrack could see Logan chopping at two mounts that hissed and bit at him.

“Logan! Leave the mounts and they may leave you be!” the dwarf cried, and then his advice became a cry of agony as a still ridden beast ripped into the side of his face, sending his helmet flying off.  The dwarf spun around and blocked the next bite and then sent the rider toppling to the ground, bleeding profusely from his chest.

Afraid to cast anymore spells, Martin the Green drew his dagger and began to move through the combat stabbing at riders when he could reach them.  Dorn followed at a safe distance, having gotten back on his feet, working to keep two or more from surrounding the watch-mage.

Ratchis whacked the head off of a mount and sent its riders spilling to the ground.  He looked up and noticed a group of four of the creatures bringing their mounts around to flee.

“They are trying to get away!” Ratchis called.  “They may bring more to their aid.”

Without a word, Roland’s form melted and elongated as his arms became tight muscled fore-legs and his nose and mouth stretched out to a snout as his teeth grew long and sharp.  In a moment, his black leonine form was hustling through the ash and mayhem to give chase to those that fled. His strong panther legs tearing up the ground beneath him as he deftly avoided tree, stone and flame in his pursuit.  

Roland leapt high into the air, and then fell upon a rider. The rider, mount and panther collapsed into a tumbling ball of chaos.  The mount awkwardly leapt back to its feet and fled, while Roland held the reptilian man down with his jaw and ripped out its back and legs with deep rakes of his rear claws.  He roared with delight and then went charging after the next one.

Roland looked back as the dust cleared from the second rider he felled to see his companions mopping up the few that were left several hundred feet back.  Two more mounts were heading back east, riderless.  He turned and saw the riders he pursued disappear around a low hill, and decided against continuing.

“Did any get away?” Roland bobbed his panther head up and down and patted the ground twice with his paw.

“Two?” Ratchis held up two fingers.

Roland bobbed his head up and down some more. 

Ratchis shook his head.  He stopped to call to Nephthys to close his many wounds, and Kazrack did the same for himself as he eyed Martin suspiciously. The glow from the mantle of green and black flame rose high into the cloudy sky.

Kazrack dropped his halberd and drew his flail, and began to walk steadily towards the watch-mage.  Alarmed, Dorn loaded his crossbow which he had just picked up and pointed it towards the dwarf.

“Ratchis! Kazrack is going to attack Martin!” Dorn warned.

Logan looked back and forth unsure of what to do, and Roland simply stood there.  Ratchis whipped around and ran between them, and then turned to Martin.

“Martin, I think…”

“If he is possessed…” Kazrack began.

“I’m fine,” said Martin, and the mantle disappeared without a sound.  Kazrack’s grip tightened around the handle of his flail.

“It is like a rush when it comes over me,” Martin explained. “I can feel it creep in as I am focused on casting a spell, but once it happens I can fight it and I only needed to will it away for the flames to disappear.”

“You should have done it sooner,” Ratchis said.

“I only just now realized that I could do that,” Martin said. “Before I was kind of busy.”

“What’s the matter with your face?” Kazrack asked, fear and disgust growing on the edge of his bass voice.

“Whatever do you mean?” Martin brought his hand to his face and winced. The flesh around his eye was tender, and he felt the skin crumble to the touch.  He hurried into his pack for a silver mirror and then dropped it.  The flesh around his right eye was gray and drying up, as if dead tissue. There was blackened vein near the surface on that side of his face, and his eye was yellowed.

He slumped to the ground and his head drooped. He let a sob escape and then he choked it back.

Logan looked to Ratchis who just shook his head and looked down.

There was little of value on the fire-breathing reptile men, so the Keepers of the Gate left them to the crows and hurried southeast, hoping to escape any further pursuit.  Logan suggested tracking the escaped creatures back to their camp and bringing the fight to them, but he was voted down.

There were no visible stars when they finally dropped to the ground to sleep under some bushes that seemed to have survived the many fires in the area.  Ash and smoke were everywhere here within a league of the valley wall, and it burned when they breathed in.

“I think tomorrow I’m gonna go bring Fearless to where I stashed the can-on,” Gunthar said as he spread out his bedroll beside the hobbled llama. “Debo’s supposed to meet me there, and I want to check on it, make sure everything is set for the plan.  I should be back in three or four days. Unless you wanna come with me.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Ratchis grunted.

“I can do what I want!” Gunthar spat.

“I meant us coming with you,” Ratchis replied.

“Oh. Yeah, right… Uh, okay,” Gunthar said, laying down.

“But before you leave in the morning, let’s choose a place to meet up in that time,” Ratchis said.


Ralem, the 15th of Keent – 565 H.E.

The rain of the day before gave way and the clouds melted away to the west. The sun came down in hot streams of gold, and glowed against the steel of more clouds in the southeast roiling up slowly in their direction.  It was a muggy day that found Gunthar moaning that Ratchis was leading him far from the direction he needed to go in order to meet up with Debo and get to where the can-on was stashed.  But Ratchis insisted that the place they meet had to be closer to where the sun’s light would hit the  ridge and reveal the entrance to Hurgun’s Maze.  The plan was to find the spot and then camp somewhere it could be watched from and wait the two weeks for the proper day.

“Two weeks!” Roland complained, as they marched into the shadow of Greenreed Valley’s ridge. The trees here were also scorched in many places, but this was an old and thicker wood and some of the biggest trees had resisted lighting up. There was still ash over everything, giving the woods the illusion of a winter’s day.  “We should go to a town and find out what has been going on in your absence. What was this town called? The one near the temple of Bast?  Summit? We should go there.  If those fire-breathing things are here in force they surely would have attacked the town.”

“If they have, I don’t want to know about it,” Ratchis replied.

Gunthar snorted and Kazrack frowned, but then the dwarf nodded as if in grudging agreement.

“If they attacked, then it is too late to prevent it,” Ratchis continued.  “All we would be doing is leaving a convenient trail for Richard or Rindalith or whoever to find.  They would expect us to go to Summit.  Richard has found us there more than once.”

“Slippery slope!” Gunthar whooped and laughed.

“What? Ratchis looked at the Neergaardian.

“Slippery slope! The Pussy said it the other day,” Gunthar explained, and jerked a thumb back to Roland, who was fuming.  The Neergaardian never lost his smile. “You slide right down that sh*te-covered slope until you end up just like the friggin’ people you claim to hate.  Sure is easy to be good when you can be conveniently ignorant, isn’t pig-er?”

Ratchis growled.

“For a moment there, Gunthar you nearly sounded like you had a point,” Kazrack said. “But you wouldn’t pretend to have a conscience.”

“That’s my point Stumpy, I don’t hafta pretend,” Gunthar laughed. “I don’t got one.  I’ll tell ya right to your face that I stuck my tallywhacker right in a dwarf whore’s mouth to feel her beard itch my balls!” He let out another high laugh and actually stopped to slap his knee, smiling broadly at the memory of it.  “You know what to expect from me.  You don’t need a conscience when you are a virtuous man like I am.”

“You don’t make any sense,” Kazrack replied.

“Maybe not to dwarves,” Roland put his two coppers in.

“This here tree looks as good as any,” Gunthar said, pointing randomly.  “We’ll meet here in four days.”

He began to pull the llama back in the opposite direction.

“Wait!” Ratchis held up a hand.  “What if you are followed or caught?  You know too much.”

“I had not considered that,” Kazrack frowned.  “You could be tortured.”

“Are you saying I’d talk?” Gunthar laughed. “What kind of torture could they give me that’s worse than marching back and forth through the wilderness with you guys?”

“Anyway, all they’d have to do is pay him,” Logan said. His hand was on the hilt of his sword.

“Ha! There isn’t enough money in all of Derome-Delem!” Gunthar boasted.  “Like I said, I am a virtuous man.”

“Could we not at least go see the elves?” Roland interjected jumping back in topic.  “They would want to know that there was an elf captive back there.”

”Arion,” Ratchis replied.

“Huh?”

“Arion, the elf-lord,” the half-orc croaked, looking down.  “I was thinking who the captive the pixies mentioned might have been and it only makes sense that it was Arion.  Despite what you think, having to abandon him to captivity weighs heavily on me.”

“If Anarie _is_ possessed by one of the drow witches then Aze Nuquerna may have already fallen,” Martin speculated glumly.

“She may not be possessed,” Kazrack said.  “She may be charmed, or has deliberately turned to evil.”

“Anarie would never do that,” Martin shot back.

“Who knows with elves?  They have gone back on their word before. History is full of examples,” the dwarf said.

“Once you have decided where we are going to camp I will transform and seek out the temple of Bast,” Roland stately flatly.  “Probably on the morrow.”  

Ratchis got Gunthar to accompany them another league, so they were just south of where they thought the spot they were looking for was up on the ridge.

Along the way, Martin the Green spotted the tell-tale translucent sensor of the party being scryed upon.  Stopping to close his eyes, once again the image of Richard the Red peering into a crystal ball while sitting on some cracked stone floor washed before his eyes.  Once again Richard looked up and smiled, and the vision disappeared with the sensor.

“I saw it right as it appeared,” Martin said. “He didn’t see or hear anything of value.”

“This time…” Ratchis muttered.

And so it was time for Gunthar to leave.

“Don’t cry or nuthin’,” the Neergaardian smirked, as he led Fearless away.  Martin hurried over and gave the llama a scratch on the side of the head.

“Hey! Little man!” Gunthar called when he was only about forty feet away. “Don’t forget me!  I know your momma won’t!”

“Sleep light!” Logan warned, and he pulled his sword half way from his scabbard and patted the blade with the other hand.

Gunthar flicked two fingers in the _Neergaardian Lordly Salute_, and was off. (1)

While the others waited at the base of the ridge, Ratchis climbed up the steep incline and took a look around.  The top was much as he remembered it.  There were some trees and shrubs that could act as cover, but mostly the uneven ground and standing stones could help them disguise their movement.  Back to the west the thicker woods atop of the ridge began; further to the east the vegetation was even sparser and the ground rockier for miles until the ridge looped around and got close to where the village of Summit sat upon it.

The half-orc ranger lowered a rope and helped the others up the ridge, one by one.  That is, except for Roland who changed to panther form and scrabbled up the side on his own.  

They took a moment to look into the eastern valley, wiping their faces as smoke came billowing up out of what was once a verdant field beyond. Instead, there was a great rent in the earth, and in the few places where grass and trees still seemed to be, flames were weaving in and out consuming them.  Beneath the crack was a dull red glow.  The smoke was too thick to see Summit.  The western portion of the valley, though ash covered, still seemed untouched. It was more wooded and had uneven ground.

Ratchis led his companions back towards the more wooded area atop the ridge, where some fallen logs made even more cover from the valley side.  They began to make camp as Roland crawled back out onto the bare part of the ridge after taking a look at Martin’s map.  He prowled around for nearly two hours and then came back. He had found nothing out of the ordinary.  Dejected, he crawled under some brush and napped. 

Logan stood to go out and look, but Ratchis put a hand on his arm.

“Rest,” the half-orc said. “In a few hours, those clouds will come in. It will be cooler and darker, easier to hide. Go out looking then.”

Logan nodded.

After an hour they shook off their sluggishness and gathered to share some rations and talk over their plan. Roland just lay at their feet, tongue lolling out onto the ground.

“Before we risk exposing ourselves by searching for a sign of where this is going to happen, we should try to get a look around and see who might see us,” Ratchis said.

“There is no one around for miles it seems,” said Kazrack.

“Someone up on the higher portions of the ridge, or out across the way who gets a flash of sun off of your armor, they might see us and come looking to see who we are,” Ratchis reasoned.

“Fine. I’m too shiny.  We’ll send Roland,” Kazrack said.

“I can use my _arcane eye_ to scout  around the valley some,” Martin said.  “It has quite a range.”

It was agreed.

It took ten minutes of chanting and rubbing bat fur on his face, but then Martin was ready.

With a word and a wave of his arms, Martin’s green robes swelled out and  transformed into the ash-dulled sheen of reptilian scales. A heavy tail fell out from between his leg and wings sprouted from his widened shoulder blades.  For a moment he was Tanweil, or some close approximation, but then he disappeared. Invisible, took off for a few moments freedom.

The eye skirted invisibly along the valley floor, passing crisped corpses of men and animals.  He caught a glimpse of the camp of the fire-breathing reptile men, and saw they were fighting among themselves. Figuring he could not glean much from watching the strange men, he sent the eye zooming across the valley floor and up the ridge to the west, his eye caught by a flash of white.  Here the ridge splayed out into ever-widening plateaus like giant steps down to the sunken floor of the western valley. It was a place marked on his maps as ‘the Amphitheatre’. The top of the ridge was the highest point in the west, and trees were the least spoilt or burnt there.  They were thick, and there was even still some green showing amid the gray.  

There was a camp up there at the top of the Amphitheatre.  Cleverly hidden as to not be seen from below or from the ridge, but to an invisible eye whizzing about the trees it was clear as day.  There was nearly a dozen tents set up beneath trees, with branches and brush moved around them to grant some camouflage.  There were platforms in the trees connected by planks creating something of a perimeter.  And on those platforms, and amid those tents stalked men in dark cloaks, in simple woolen clothing of black and bronze, their heads shaved save for one tuft or braid. Some even had their eyebrows shaved off, most wore sandals, but some were barefoot.   

Monks.

The ones walking the perimeter carried spears.  Martin sent the eye deeper in the camp, hurriedly trying to get a count of how many monks were here before his spell expired.  He had gotten to nearly twenty-seven when he noted a larger pavilion tent atop a rise in the ridge. Just within, were stacked several footlockers, and the top was filled with scrolls that spilled out.  The watch-mage sent the eye around the flap and there he saw a squat man poring through scrolls.  He wore a robe and sandals. His head was shaved, but gray stubble was growing back in, and his face was a lattice of whip marks, his eyes swollen and disfigured, and his nose askew from several breaks. His lower lip was torn, pierced by a weighted spike of metal that curved back into the mouth.

The spell ended.

Martin the Green swooped over the valley once more.  He saw more reptile men, these with plate mail made of a strange red ore, running down ones that looked similar to those the Keepers of the Gate had fought the day before.

He returned and told the others what he saw.

“But isn’t that around where the beam of light is going to hit?” Kazrack asked.  He pointed in the vague direction of the amphitheatre. “Over there?”

“Yes,” replied Ratchis.  “They must be seeking a way into Hurgun’s Maze to try and talk to Anubis.”

“The scrolls might have been old records or accounts of Hurgun,” Martin said. “He must be trying to narrow down even further where the entrance to the Maze once was.”

“Seems like he’s narrowed it down pretty well,” Logan commented. ”We may need to deal with them.”

“No, we wait,” Ratchis said. “It is nearly cloudy enough for you to go out and look.  Occupy yourself with that.”

Martin coughed twice loudly.

Everyone looked at the watch-mage and he gestured over near Kazrack with his head.

“Yes, we should definitely attack the reptile men,” he said, too loudly and nodded.

“Whatever is the matter with you?” Kazrack asked.

“Richard is watching us again,” Martin sighed. “I was hoping we could feed him a fake story, but then I realized I could never get you all on the same page without saying anything.”

“On the same page as what?  Did we write something down for us to say when Richard is watching?” Kazrack asked.

Logan and Dorn laughed.

“He is _still_ watching,” Martin hissed.

“Why didn’t you say so!?” the dwarf yelled.

“Quiet!” Ratchis hissed.  “Voices can carry across the valley even if the smoke obscures vision. We don’t need more than Richard to know where we are.”

“Well, before he knew we were in some wood, now he knows we are near the valley,” Kazrack replied.

“Shut up!” Ratchis barked.

“I’m going,” Logan said, and he snuck out to the east as the light of Ra’s Glory faded.  The clouds had arrived before sunset, offering enough shade to lessen his chance of being spotted.  A soft rain fell and the whole valley seemed to hiss.  The eastern portion was obscured by a cloud of smoke as tall as the sky itself.  He searched for a couple of hours, and the only thing he could find of note was a deposit of mica out in a particularly barren area.  The stones there were uneven and clumps of the shiny mineral seemed to face each other in lines going from southeast to southwest.

He made his way back.

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

Roland yelped as a moment seemed to stretch out before him as the world faded to black, save for a pinprick of gold that seemed very distant.  A woman’s voice emerged from it, “_Roland, it is Norena. At temple, near Summit with Richard. Promises you all safe passage to leave, but wants you to come see him here. _” And suddenly he knew he could reply and that the strange drawn moment would be gone.  “_We will come,_” he said.

“The sensor’s gone,” Martin announced.

“Rowr!” Roland said, getting up and moving towards Ratchis.  “Rowr! Rowr!”

Ratchis looked at the panther and scrunched up his face.

“Rowr!” Roland said again and threw his heavy forepaws on the half-orc’s stomach, knocking him back a half step.  “Rowr-whurr!”

“What the hell is the matter?  Get off! Wait a second,” the half-orc clutched the scored chain he wore around his waist and called to Nephthys.

“What is it?” he asked Roland again, and the panther understood.  To everyone else, Ratchis was snorting and grunting.

“Is that orcish?” Kazrack asked Martin, frowning.

“No, he can speak with animals,” Martin said. “It is a boon of his goddess.”

Thomas leapt down onto Martin’s shoulder from a nearby tree branch.

“He is talking some kind of cat language?” the squirrel chattered in Martin’s mind.  “Can he speak squirrel?”

“Yes, I can,” Ratchis answered for himself, smiling.  “How are you?”

“Tired and hungry. How do you think?” Thomas snipped back. “Can you speak dog, too?”

“Yes,” replied Ratchis.

“Dogs are dumb,” Thomas quipped and he leapt down to the ground to sniff at Roland.

Roland explained about the sending to Ratchis, who relayed it to the others.

“Why would she work with Richard?” Kazrack asked. “I thought this cat goddess of your was a good god.”

“Richard may have her charmed,” Ratchis offered. “We know he has used charm before.”

“It is a trick. We should not go,” said Kazrack. “Ignore it.”

Roland transformed to his human shape in a sudden angry blast, his voice cracking.
“Are you saying I should ignore a charmed priestess of Bast being controlled by a mage in a desecrated temple of our goddess?” the Bastite was agog.  “What the hell are you thinking? What if it was a dwarf priest?”

“We have decided…” the dwarf began.

“We should go,” interjected Ratchis.

Kazrack did a double-take.

“The point of not going anywhere was for no one to know we were here,” Ratchis explained. “It is too late now. But…”

Ratchis stopped and turned to Martin. 

“If it comes to conflict with Richard, we can count on your aid, right?” the half-orc asked the watch-mage.

Martin scratched his chin and then looked down and then looked up.

“If at all possible we should take him alive, if it comes to that.  I have an obligation to return him to the Academy to face the masters,” Martin said. “But I believe he is summoning us because he has recruited other adventurers to his cause and hopes to enter the Maze with them, and maybe hopes to form an alliance with us.”

“How long are we going to go on trusting him?” Kazrack asked, disgusted.

“He is good-intentioned, if nothing else,” Martin replied. “It might be that an alliance would work for us.”

“We should vote,” suggested Ratchis.

“We should not go,” said Kazrack.

“You know where I stand,” said Roland.

Martin hesitated and then said, “I think we should go.”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Logan said, coming back into camp. “Where we going?”

“A temple of Bast where one of our enemies awaits us,” Kazrack said, sourly.

“Oh, then definitely, I want to go,” Logan replied.

“That settles it,” said Ratchis.  “We’ll leave in the morning.”

*End of Session #77*
------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1) Flicking up two fingers with the back of the hand towards the target of the insult derived during the Abeodan-Termermean War in the Fourth Age. (see http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Neergaardian+Lordly+Salute)


----------



## el-remmen

I've decided I am going to wait a few days and see if a more up to date DB gets restored before I catch this up to date.

But since this thread may be going away anyway, below I will post a spoilerish little quiz.

In which order do you think the following events will happen:


Spoiler




 Betrayal
 Gunthar's Return
 The Keepers of the Gate fight an army (well, a platoon)
 The Keepers of the Gate take a boat ride
 They fight their greatest foe
 They enter Hurgun's Maze
 Death!
 More Death!
 They fight their _other_ nemesis


----------



## el-remmen

Ok, back to the original plan, with a twist!. . . I will be playing catch-up tonight and tomorrow in hopes of getting to the point where I can post a new entry sometime this weekend (I am almost done writing it up).

As for the spoilers above - I will spoilerize them!


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

el-remmen said:
			
		

> But since this thread may be going away anyway, below I will post a spoilerish little quiz.




Are you considering starting a new thread?  Or is it time for a new Book?

GW


----------



## el-remmen

Graywolf-ELM said:
			
		

> Are you considering starting a new thread?  Or is it time for a new Book?
> 
> GW




Huh? No, this is the last book and the last thread. . . 

I only meant that there was a chance that more up to date version of the DB was going to be restored so I would not need to play catch up for the lost 5 months. . .  but not it seems I must.  

Will post more in a bit. . .


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #78* (part i)

Isilem, the 16th of Keent – 565 H.E.

Morning came with cold rain, and mist drifted lazily across the valley. The Keepers of the Gate were slow to get moving.  Roland and Logan went out to scout, the former in panther form. Roland checking outside of the valley below the ridge, and the latter atop it. The others discussed spell choices, Martin’s ability to reconnoiter with magic, and the availability of components for important spells like _invisibility_.

Around two hours after awaking and preparing spells, while Roland and Logan were still gone, they heard the hurried hoofbeats of horses outside of the valley ridge.  They galloped past loudly to the east, and then were gone.  Soon after, Roland and Logan returned.

“There were three riders,” Logan said.  “They wore burgundy cloaks and ring mail armor. They were riding fast.”

“Yes, the horses had the smell to them like they were lathered,” Roland explained, changing back to human form.  “They had been pushed hard of late.”

“Those are Gothanius’ colors,” Martin said.  “But Gothanius has no standing army.”

“The militia was being roused when we left here,” Ratchis reminded the Watch-mage. “And with everything going on, the king may have hired some more mercenaries.” (1)

“There seems to be an awful lot going on around here,” commented Dorn, wringing out the knit cap he often wore to keep his balding head warm.

“Now you know why our stories are so convoluted,” Ratchis snorted. “Anyway, if there are riders around we should wait until closer to nightfall to head out.  There is less chance to be seen, and we are more likely to hear them before they do us.  That is, if people can remember to be quiet.”

“Gunthar isn’t here, I think we can manage,” said Logan.  “Though, if you had let me cut out his tongue that wouldn’t be a problem either.”

Ratchis ignored him.   

“I can use this delay to finish my studying of the _darkvision_ spell,” Martin said. “Now if Ratchis could find me some wild carrots for the component.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for them,” the half-orc ranger replied.

Many hours later they headed out, making their way down the ridge and then eastward around it to turn north, hoping to find an easy place to make their way back up well north of Summit.

The damp was still in the air, but clouds had parted,  revealing a gray waning moon and the twinkling lights of the Dolphin. (2)

“So your father’s a watch-mage?” Dorn asked Logan.

“Yep.”

“Ever consider taking up the study of magic yourself?”

“I was not the one with the aptitude for it in my family,” Logan replied.

“So others do?”

“Yes.” Logan’s answers were often brief.

“All my family are sailors and dock-workers,” Dorn said.

”Not a bad life,” Logan said.

“But not a good one, either,” Dorn said. “Not for me, anyway.  It always bothered me that my family risked everything to escape servitude, but now they serve some other men for a few coppers.”

“Well, you serve Ratchis,” Logan said.

“That’s out of respect,” Dorn said, snapping a bit. “That’s because Nephthys showed me something the day Ratchis and the others rescued me and my former companions.”

“Well… I’m glad you’ve found a way of life that agrees with you,” Logan said, getting uncomfortable with religious talk. “Will you join the priesthood?”

“Maybe.  I have thought about it.  Maybe after this Maze-thing.  If I even go in… Still not sure about that.”

“Me, too,” Logan admitted.

“I figure, if the danger to the world is so great, someone needs to stay outside and give warning if something goes wrong,” Dorn reasoned.  He looked right at Logan. “Is that cowardly?”

“Not if its for practical reason,” Logan replied. “It is not to avoid getting hurt, but then again I don’t want to get blasted into the Abyss either.”

“Well, let’s pray to Nephthys we won’t,” Dorn laughed.

At the front of the line, Ratchis and Kazrack talked quietly.

“When we meet Richard the Red again, you will need to control yourself,” Ratchis was telling the dwarf.

“Why do you need to tell me to control myself?” the dwarf asked annoyed.

“Because you’ve lashed out at him in the past.”

“That was before we agreed to converse with him,” Kazrack replied. “Though I do still think it will come to a fight.  He will either try to stop us from going to the Maze, or want to follow us or something, and it will come to conflict.”

“I don’t think so,” said Ratchis.

“If it does, we need to make sure we use non-lethal means of stopping him,” Martin reminded them.

As they came to where the forest ended and the great valley that made up most of Gothanius appeared to the east, they veered north to stay in the cover of the many pine trees that grew there, marching parallel to the trail, but a quarter mile off of it.

Ratchis heard a horse behind them on the trail.  Quickly, Martin the Green created an illusory thicket between two trees and the party crouched there.  The horse trotted up the trail adjacent to them.  It whinnied and stopped and seemed to move around in a circle and break through some brush and stop and neigh and let out a frustrated breath, and then turn again.  It rode off, but even as Martin was about to let the illusion down it came back.

Frowning, Ratchis signaled the others to remain hidden and he crept out to see.

There was a horse, alright, but it was riderless, though it had a saddle.  It was skittish at first, but Ratchis clucked his tongue and cooed to it, letting it see him, and soon it calmed down and let him take the reins.  He could see it had a black feathered arrow hanging painfully from its rear flank.

Ratchis healed the horse, and then called to the others.

“This is strange,” Martin said.  “First the other riders, now this horse?  And yet, everywhere we have traveled in Gothanius there have not been many horses. Ponies? Oxen? Yes.  But not many horses.”

“It makes sense that they would save their horses for military use,” Roland speculated.

“It’s an orc arrow,” Ratchis said.

Ratchis stroked the horse’s face and whispered in its ear, and fed it a wild carrot he had found earlier for Martin.  He called to Nephthys to grant him the ear and tongue to talk with the horse.

“Where do you come from?” the half-orc asked the horse.

The animal neighed and its eyes opened wide and for a second it was frightened again.

“The rocky place where things go up,” it said.

“What happened to your master?” Ratchis asked.

“The rain that kills,” the horse replied, and this time it pulled away nervously, and took a moment before nuzzling up to the ranger again.

“Did you smell many creatures?”

“Smelled like you,” the horse said.  “But not.”

“How many?”

“A herd.”

“How many rode with you?” Ratchis asked.

“Four hooves and one,” the horse said.

“And how long did you ride before you came under the rain?”

“Many waters and many grazings. Light and dark and light and dark.”

“How many times, light and dark?”

“Several.”

“Did you see those who smelled like me?” Ratchis asked.

“Saw.”

“Was it a camp with food and fire? Or on a road?”

“Not camp. Not road. Tree place. Not road. Not home.”

“Did the others stop to care for your master?” Ratchis asked.”

“Run! Run!” the horse jerked its head nervously and then looked at Ratchis. “Smart. Run.”

Ratchis continued to soothe the horse, taking its saddle off of it, as he explained to others what the horse had said.  He then slapped it on the rump and it went running off to the east.

“It will return to its stable eventually,” he said.  “Whatever orcs did this, they are days away and are of no concern of ours.”

“For now,” Kazrack added.  Ratchis nodded.

“Demons, watch-mages, drow elves, giants, monks and now orcs,” Logan sighed. He scratched his chin.  “This sure is complicated.  What do the monks want again?”

”They want to bring back their god Rahkefet,” Martin said. “They say they want to talk to Anubis, but they really want to return power to their new patron, the ‘Lord of the Astray’.”

“And they plan to do that in the Maze?” Roland asked.

“Yes,” Martin replied. “We can assume there will be portals there to many of the extra-planar realm… There is a sensor there!”  He pointed over Ratchis’ head.  The emerald wizard closed his eyes and projected his will through the sensor, forcing the fog of space and time apart to let him see who it was who watched them.

“Richard again?” Kazrack’s voice was far away to the watch-mage.  He could see a small green figure, with scaly skin all over its face and bright green and white hair that sprung out of its head.  The thing squeezed its big warty nose and traced a black clawed finger over a frosted crystal ball. It looked up and smiled with snarling teeth.

Martin cast the vision aside and opened his eyes, startled.

“Mozek…” he coughed.

“Everyone quiet!” Ratchis said.

“Could you see where he was?” Kazrack asked.

“Some thorny place, like inside a hollowed out bush or something,” Martin said, he grasped his arms about his body and shivered.  The image of Chance’s brain being scooped from its skull and smashed into Mozek’s maw flashed in the watch-mage’s mind.  “He is still watching.”

“Let him watch,” Ratchis said.  “He is still going to die crying for his mother like his brothers all have.”

Dorn shot Ratchis a strange look.

“There is no mercy for fiends,” the half-orc said.  Kazrack nodded.

“Is Mozek the one that looks like a monkey?” Logan asked.

“No, he is uglier than a monkey,” the dwarf said.

“You are thinking of Mitha-gogol,” Martin said. The sensor disappeared.  “It is gone.”

They marched on, and not too long after Kazrack said, “I still think this is a bad idea.  This is certainly a trap.  We should have made conditions on how we would meet him.  A neutral place.”

“A temple of Bast suits me fine,” said Roland.

“But one of your order is with him, that gives us no advantage,” Kazrack said. “If only Martin could talk to him and arrange something differently.”

“Well, one way he can talk to Richard is by going and talking to him, which is what we are doing,” Roland said, his voice rising in pitch as he let his annoyance with Kazrack show in his attitude, rolling his eyes and clicking his tongue and pursing his lips.

“It would be good if we could meet them outside of the temple, instead of in it,” Ratchis said.

“Okay, I will send Norena a _sending_,” Roland said.

“You can do that?” Martin asked amazed. 

“Yes,” the Bastite said. “When we camp, I will do so.”

Ratchis found them a thick brush to crawl under and sleep the day away before the sun was up.  

Roland cast out his sending to Norena:
_Norena, we know Richard the Red is there, companions concerned and need assurances, an agreement to meet outside temple. More information an issue before continuing, please respond._

Back came the response:
_Imperative you come to temple and talk with Richard. No need to be concerned. Come talk. If no agreement, then leave freely._

“She is not exactly being cooperative,” Roland told the others.

“Then we attack,” Kazrack said.  “Let’s not give them a chance to spring their trap.”

“Kazrack, I will not further desecrate that temple of my goddess by being part of an assault on it,” Roland said.

“It is a stupid plan,” said Ratchis.  “But I am willing to vote on it.”

“Grrrr! Vote!” Kazrack barked and then he crawled out of the brush and sulked off.

“You do know you have the leadership position of this party,” Roland told Ratchis.

“I disagree,” Ratchis said.

“Deny it to yourself if you like, but it does not change the fact,” Roland insisted.  “You called the vote.”

“Anyone could have called the vote,” Ratchis replied.

“But you were the one who did, and the only one who does as far as I have seen,” Roland said.  “But I mean this as an accolade, you are doing a good job.”

Ratchis grunted, and went to talk with Kazrack.

“Were they always like an old married couple?” Logan asked Martin.

“They always butt heads. It was different when Beorth was around,” Martin replied.  “He provided a third head to butt.”

“I almost wish Gunthar was here,” said Dorn.

“I don’t!” Roland spat.  The dwarf and the half-orc returned having smoothed over their disagreement.  Soon they were all sleeping hidden in the brush.


Osilem, the 17th of Keent – 565 H.E.

The rain returned as the sky lightened from black to ashen gray, the world seemed all the same color.  Ratchis woke Logan and they crawled out from under the brush, and went off to scout around down by the trail they would have normally followed.

The larger valley that made up Gothanius rolled out below them as they crept from tree to shrub, to stay hidden. Visibility was limited, but there was another small wood a mile or so eastward, and just beyond it was what appeared to be tents and wagons.  There was the sound of a horn from atop the ridge, so Ratchis and Logan hurried back towards the hidden camp.  Crouched behind trees they saw a group of armored riders picking their way down the ridge, their horses making progress skittishly. They were escorting some people with sacks, bags and wheelbarrows.  There were women and children among them.

“Looks like they are evacuating Summit,” Ratchis told the others when they had awakened.

“Given what is happening in Greenreed Valley that seems like a wise course of action,” Roland said. They decided to wait before moving on, in case more riders and refugees came down the ridge to the nearby trail. 

It was nearly evening when they were marching again, climbing the black stone hill that flanked the eastern ridge wall.  A cold rain was falling again, and it slipped backward and forward to and from ice, whipping horizontally every few minutes.

“Isn’t it summer?” Logan said through chattering teeth.

“End of summer,” Ratchis replied. “Up here winter comes quick.”

“So, what might I expect from this Richard character if it does come to a fight?” Logan asked, changing the subject.

“He can make you think he’s your best friend.  He can travel instantly from place to place.  He can create clouds of noxious gas that makes you fall over in a vomiting heap.  He can summon monstrous creatures to do his bidding…” Martin rattled it all off.

“Wow…” Logan whistled.  “Why can’t you be more like him?”

Martin frowned and his shoulders drooped, and he went on marching.  The upward march was broken up by a few short climbs as the Keepers of the Gate hoisted themselves up over earthen shelves lined with outcroppings of slick crumbling slate, but finally there was a long march across a wide plateau of gray stone turned black with rain and mud.

“I think we can make camp over there,” Ratchis said, pointing to the darker shadow of tall rocks capped with brush.  He talked loudly to be heard over the rain.

“What’s that?” Logan yelled, shielding his eyes to keep the rain out as he pointed to the northwest.  A huge form was gliding down out of the clouds, and then with a flap of its wings made a wide bank back up from the south and around again as it came down.  It flew in and out of their sight as it circled, the darkness of night creeping across the hill.

“We got company!” Logan cried diving behind a stone and drawing the composite bow Ratchis has lent him.

“Oh sh*t,” Martin muttered, casting _shield_ and looking around for some cover.  He went over to Logan and with a word and a wild carrot made the rogue able to see in the dark. Calls went up to the gods, as Ratchis, Roland and Kazrack all cast spells.

And down it came.  It had a broad leonine body and huge bat-like wings, but did not have much of a tail.  The thing’s draconic head seemed a little too far over on the left of its shoulders, but then they could see it had not one head, but two. On the other side was the head of a huge ferocious goat with blood red horns.  But wait, no, there were three! For there in the center was a lion’s head with a great blood red mane and sharp teeth.  The thing screeched and roared and bleated.  Its eyes shone bright green and they could smell it as it approached, like sulfur and burning copper that stung the eyes and the back of the throat.

“Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!” Dorn cried out, panic creeping into his voice. He backed away fumbling with his crossbow.

-------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1) The King hired mercenaries to survey the area north of Greenreed Valley and they came into conflict with the Garvan gnomes, leading to two very different accounts of what happened. (See Sessions #39 and #50.
(2) The Dolphin and the Squid are two constellations made up of eleven stars that move across the northern sky as the year passes.


----------



## el-remmen

* Session #78 (part ii)*

“By the gods!  One of the heads is like a dragon!” Kazrack called out.  “Careful! It may breathe fire like a dragon.”  And he cast a spell to protect himself from fire.

“Spread out!” Ratchis cried.  “If it can breathe fire we don’t want to be clumped up!”  He cast the spell upon himself as well. (1)

“Bast!  I call your holy _prayer_ down upon us so that we might vanquish this fiendish foe!” Roland cried aloud, and the Keepers of the Gate felt the cat goddess’ power bolster their limbs and hearts.

The chimera came down almost lazily.

“Bast! Thou who art as graceful as though art righteous in your anger, smite this fiend and let it taste your power!” Roland cried out to his goddess, but this time the spell seemed to fizzle as it reached out for thing. “Drat!”

The priest of Bast, began to load his crossbow, as bolts and arrows from the others flew up at the beast. It snarled and roared and bleated, and them banked wide again, forcing the party to turn in order to be ready for its attack. 

Martin cast _Bull’s Strength_ on Logan.  Roland fired his crossbow and missed.

The thing swooped by and its red dragon head spat a gout of flame at Ratchis.  The half-orc ducked and rolled just in time, his spell protecting him from what little flame did reach him.

Kazrack let an axe fly, but it bounced off the thing’s hide.

“_Lentus!_” Martin chanted, but the spell had no effect.

Logan and Ratchis leapt at the thing, but Ratchis fell short not getting enough lift.  Logan grunted as the dragon head slammed against his hip, but he brought his sword down drawing steaming blood as he tumbled back to the ground.  The chimera let loose its bellows and cries and landed behind a barren tree near Dorn, turning to face the party.

Dorn dropped his crossbow and pulled his sword, but swung with trepidation, his fear was evident in his body language, and his blow fell short.  Ratchis, Kazrack, and Logan came rushing over, with Roland taking up the rear.   The dwarf was closest and he sidestepped a butt from the goat head and slammed his halberd blade into the lion face.

Martin cast a spell and a small globe of light appeared beside him and bobbled along with him as he approached. (2)

Logan arrived, but his blows were knocked away by the dragon head, and Ratchis got there just in time to get butted in the face.  Kazrack’s roar echoed the lion’s, as his armor turned away the heavy blows of the thing’s two claws and he beat away the lion bite with his halberd.

The dragon head spat fire once again, but Kazrack and Ratchis resisted it with their gods’ help, and Logan was able to evade the blast.

“I offer your pain to Krauchaar!” Kazrack cried, plunging his halberd into the thing’s chest as it reared up to attack again.  He twisted and jerked it free, slamming the goat head in the side of the face as he drew back.

Roland came flying over the dwarf’s head in panther-form, snarling as he took a bite from the dragon head, but he managed to land atop it grasping deep in the lion’s mane with his jaws as he ripped up its back.

Ratchis stepped in and brought his sword down on the goat head as the beast was distracted by pain.  Logan moved in from the other side, accompanied by Dorn, as Martin has his _radiant spark_ hover in the dragon’s eyes.

The dragon head reached back and bit into Roland’s flank, as Ratchis felt a claw rip down his front.  The lion jerked forward to bite Kazrack, but met halberd blade instead.  The pole-arm sliced open the side of its mouth and then slid down to its throat, prying it open.

“Raargh! For Krauchaaaaaar!” Kazrack bellowed, chopping down with his pole-axe once again as the chimera collapsed and seemed to shrink as it let loose a cloud of acrid dust, collapsing into a shriveled reminder of its previous horror.

“Hmph! The manticore did not shrivel up like that,” Kazrack complained.  “I was hoping for one of its heads.”

“That’s the kind of thing that killed half my party,” Dorn said, collapsing to the ground.  “It might be the same one.”

“Then we have avenged them to the best of our ability,” said Kazrack.

“Yes, good work everyone,” Ratchis said encouragingly.

“Where did that thing come from?” Logan asked.

“Mozek, most likely,” Ratchis replied. Martin nodded.

“So not Richard the Red?” Logan asked.

“No, I do not think even Richard would employ such creatures, plus for whatever his faults I do not think he wants us dead,” Martin said.


Tholem, the 18th of Keent

Ra’s Glory was warm and bright the next morning, and it burned off the cold bite of the previous few days as the party made their way along the final leg of the journey to the temple of Bast.  They followed a narrow rocky climb lined with firs that kept them from being seen from the ridge.  It proved to have been a good idea, when an hour later they heard riders hurrying along the top of the ridge and come down it heading southeast.  The riders crossed over the party’s trail behind them.  From the glimpse they got there were at least a dozen with some pack horses as well.

“That could be bad news,” Martin said.  Ratchis nodded.

By mid-afternoon, they reached a place where the ridge wall and the black flinty hills of the northern border of Gothanius created an acute canyon of sharp rocks flayed out in two directions.  Above, atop the ridge, the former temple of Bast was nearby.  Martin the Green cast _levitate_ on Ratchis and then climbed on his back, and mentally raised and lowered the two of them as the half-orc took each member of the party in his meaty arms one at a time.

Logan nearly climbed instead, but finally decided against it and took the awkward ride.

The temple was set back about eighty feet from the ridge edge, an abandoned stone garden stood in that space with a cracked fountain.  The place looked much like the last time some of the party members had been here. (3)

The trees and vines of the surrounding wood had grown out under the paving stones of the courtyard, and now it was a haphazard mess of root and stone. There were weeds poking up through the flagstones and a nasty dirty mulch of autumn leaves left to rot beneath mounds of melted snow for years and years.

The building itself was squat and square, and had a large iron-reinforced wooden door inset against two wooden statues of cats. The iron was rusted, but the door still bore the carvings of hundreds of cat shapes that all fit into each other elegantly. Its base was made of large brown bricks, while the top portion and roof was made of lacquered logs, now chewed by insects and the weather.

Kazrack began walking to the door, but Ratchis called him back, “Stay within ten feet of me.”

“Why is that?” Logan asked.

”My goddess grants me an aura of defense against magics meant to control or trick the mind,” the Friar of Nephthys explained. 

Logan nodded.  He looked around, taking in the scene as the party approached slowly as a group.

Martin walked right up to the door and knocked.

There was no answer; no sound of any kind.  Ratchis smashed the side of his fist against the iron-reinforced door three times.  This time there was a rattling within and a few minutes later the great door jerked open.

It was Norena of Bast.

She did not look like she was staying in a run-down temple as much as she did someone about to go out for a party.  She wore a long red dress, and her red curly lock hung about her bare shoulders, and her blue eyes twinkled in the sunlight.  A few freckles had appeared on her perfect little nose since the last time they had seen her.  She held an orange tabby in one arm, and had a short sword haphazardly belted about her waist, looking very out of place.

“Ah, you have finally arrived,” she said, smiling broadly and looking at each of the Keepers of the Gate in the eye.  She moved to let them enter.  “Come in!”

“Before we enter, I would like to cast a spell in order to put us more at ease,” Ratchis said.  “Just to see your intentions.”

Norena frowned and clucked her tongue.  “You are impugning me?  I am a high priestess of Bast, ally of your own patron goddess, though friars are not known for their manners.  It is not necessary.”

“We feel it is, my lady,” Roland said.

“You too, Roland? Don’t you trust me?” Norena looked hurt.

“Oh, I trust you implicitly, Norena,” Roland replied.  “I do not trust Richard the Red.”

She turned back to Ratchis.  “Swear on Nephthys that this is no trick.”

The half-orc friar obliged her and she nodded.  He could detect no charming magic upon her.

The party entered.  The chamber beyond a small ante-room was the main temple audience chamber.  Here the stone floor was cracked and warped as well, as was an old marble bath fifteen feet to a side set into the floor. There were the remains of many pews, and some other wooden chairs, but most were rotted away and covered in leaves.  The stained glass of the skylight above was long gone.  The opposite end of the temple chamber was an enclosed area that formed a rear wall with two flanking hallways that led to darkness beyond.  The wall itself marked the back of the altar, which right now was a cracked stone dais, and an empty spot where a statue of Bast had once been.

There were over a dozen cats wandering about.

A red-robed figure stood from the dais steps as the party approached.  It was Richard the Red.

“Come in! Come on in! I am glad you came,” Richard flashed his usual smile, but he looked thinner and his auburn beard more scraggily.  “Pull up a chair, but be careful most of them are rotten.”

A tall man in a breast plate with a nasty-looking mace at his side came stepping out from the right hand rear hall.  He wore a tunic with a golden ankh emblazoned on an open tome.  A similar sigil was a golden holy symbol about his neck.  His brown hair was cut so short as to be nearly unnoticeable. 

“You’ve met Cordell of Thoth?” Richard asked, gesturing to the man.  Cordell nodded in acknowledgement.  He pulled tome out from under his arm and flipped it open deftly with one hand, taking a quill from within to jot down something.

“Where are the rest of your companions?” Martin asked.

“Martin? Oh, no!” Richard went towards his fellow watch-mage, his face mask of pity as he took note of Martin’s deformity. (4)

Martin turned away, “ I do not see any Greyish brothers about.”

“Oh, Razzle? He’s down in the catacombs playing pretend,” Richard laughed, and then took on an exaggerated expression of offense.  “And you double-crossed me Martin.  I had to learn the hard way things that you knew and weren’t telling me.”

“I was just follow your teachings, Richard,” Martin said.  “But let’s leave that in the past, everything changes fast and we have to adapt to that.”

“Oh, you will find me very much in agreement with that,’ Richard said, sitting back down on the dais.  “It seems like you are finally learning.”

Martin nodded.

“And you must be Roland,” Richard said, calling to Roland who stood to the rear with Norena.

“Yes, I am, and I need wine,” the Bastite said. “I pray you do have some about?”

“Of course,” Richard smiled.  “Cordell will you do the honors of showing our guest down to the catacombs to find us a bottle or two to share?”

The silent Thothian nodded and gestured for Roland to follow.

“We can start any time you are ready,” Kazrack finally spoke gruffly, his jaw clenched tightly.

“Talking it thirsty work, Kazrack,” Richard replied. “And you have yet to gather some chairs so I might say my piece.”

Roland went for the wine as the others dropped their gear and carried over benches and chairs. He returned with three bottles and Cordell had two more.  Soon the wine was flowing and everyone was gathered about, but Kazrack would not sit.  Roland sat with a fat calico on his lap, stroking her between the ears as he sipped the wine from one of the two silver cups he carried in his pack and smiled.

Logan sat beside him. “If this place wasn’t so run down I could imagine warming up to it.”

“Oh, it isn’t so bad,” Roland replied. “I have half a mind to fix up myself.  The people of Gothanius need to start developing a little culture if they are going to survive in the annals of men. And Bast is all about culture.”

Roland stood to get more wine, still holding the cat and stroking it.  He called a prayer to Bast to allow him to see into the hearts of men and scanned the chamber. (5)

“You’re Logan, right?” Richard the Red asked the young man as he sat again. He took no wine.

“Yeah. What? Is that supposed to impress me? You know my name? With all you been spying on us?” Logan replied.

“But we’ve met before,” Richard said, smiling.  “You were eight, or maybe nine, I visited your father and he helped me with a mission I was doing for the Academy then.”

Logan nodded stiffly.

“So tell me what has transpired since we last met,” Richard said, addressing everyone again.

“We came here because you said you had something to tell us,” Martin replied. “Sufficed to say we have had a hard journey.  We may choose to tell you more when we hear what you have to say.”

 Roland made his way back to his seat, speaking the word of another prayer to help him _discern lies_.

“We want to know what you have to give us is worth any kind of exchange,” Ratchis said.  “Your guile is running thin.”

“Very well,” Richard sighed. “I wanted to tell you that we have parallel goals and that we should be working cooperatively to solve the problem that now troubles Gothanius and soon all of Derome-Delem.”

“Say what you propose plainly,” Kazrack barked.

“Beneath this temple, deep in the catacombs is a black door,” Richard said.  “Your friends, the Shepherds, stopped a priest of the Deceitful One (6) from opening it so that what is on the other side can come through, but what they did not know that they did not stop him before he opened it so what is on this side can go where it leads.”

“A trapped door?” Kazrack asked.

”A black portal to a planar realm,” Richard explained. “The Academy masters would call it a demi-plane, or a pocket plane.  In there is the Key Room to Hurgun’s Maze.”

“We’ve already been to a key room,” Kazrack said.  Richard the Red smiled.

“That was more of a map room, Kazrack,” Martin said.

“I was able to gather from my, uh…reconnaissance…” Richard began.

“You mean spying, Richard,” Roland interjected.

“Uh, let’s call it _scrying_… anyway, I was able to gather that you have a way of figuring out where the entrance to Hurgun’s Maze is, or will be, or something, but my question is, how do you know this entrance will be unlocked when you get there?”

Martin looked at Kazrack who looked to Ratchis.

“Nephthys will open the way for us,” the half-orc said.

“I do not doubt your resourcefulness, Ratchis, but… well, no offense, but have you ever considered that you and your Fearless Manticore Killers…

“We are the Keepers of the Gate now,” Martin said.

“Yes, whatever… have you ever considered that you are not up to handling what you will find in Hurgun’s Maze?” 

“Everyday,” Ratchis replied.

“So why do it?” Richard asked. “Go to the Key Room, unlock the Maze and let Norena and I and our companions handle Hurgun’s Maze.”

“You must take us for fools,” Kazrack retorted.

“No, I take you for folk who do not want innocents to suffer because of your own shortcomings,” Richard said.

“What makes you think you can do it, if we cannot?” Roland asked.

“Come now, honey,” Norena said, answering for Richard. “We have more experience than any of you.  This is not some ball you plan to go to.”

“And, to be totally forthright with you, like I said we have parallel desires,” Richard continued. “I have my own reasons for wanting to fix whatever is going wrong with Hurgun’s Maze, and thus with Greenreed Valley.  I ask you for this, because I need your help.”

“I am tired your lies and manipulations!” Kazrack shouted, and stepped forward.

“Kazrack?” Richard said, softly.  “I need your help.”  And with that he stood and reached his hand towards the dwarf who raised his own hand defensively.  The crimson watch-mage’s hand passed right through Kazrack’s forearm, wavering for a second like liquid hanging in the air.  Kazrack felt something cold had pass through his limb.

“Natan-ahb’s Beard!”  The dwarf stepped back, startled.

“Is that due to the planar bleed?” Martin asked, non-plussed.

Richard nodded. “Frequent use of my cloak in the vicinity of Greenreed Valley, as far down south as Aze Nuquerna, as far as my research can tell, has left me so afflicted. There are times that I fade away completely and just float about seeing the world but being unable to affect it.  Other times I can manifest myself by extreme concentration.  Other times I am as I am now, able to interact with the world in a limited form, but these times are growing less frequent.  It seems what many of our colleagues call the ethereal plane is really what others would call the Plane of Shadow.  I am wasting away, and if Hurgun’s Maze is not found and fixed soon, there will be none of me left to bring before the Academy of Wizardry.”

“Say again?” Martin nearly spilled his wine.

“Do this for me.  Go to the Key Room and unlock Hurgun’s Maze.  Allow Norena and I and our companions to enter the Maze  and do what needs to be done, and if we survive I will return with you to the Academy to face judgment for my actions.  I give you my word.”

“And how do we know that you will keep your word, but accomplish some other nefarious task in Hurgun’ Maze?” Roland asked. “It seems to me you are the kind of man that would give his word and keep it when he can get away with something in-between.”

Richard stood.  “I have given my offer.”

“It seems to me that wasting away to a shadow is a just punishment for someone like you,” Kazrack said.

Richard frowned.  “You may stay here as long as you like and consider what I have told you.  We mean you no harm and you may leave freely whenever you like. I grow tired and my form grows less solid.” Richard’s body seemed to wink out for a moment, and then blink back, but ghostly and translucent.  “Cordell can answer whatever questions you may have about the demi-plane to help you make your choice.  It was his research that made me realize that this place was important.”

And with that Richard the Red disappeared.

“How long will he be gone?” Martin the Green asked Norena.

“It could be an hour.  It could be not until nightfall,” Norena replied.  “It changes all the time, but the range seems to be getting towards the longer end.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ratchis said. “We have no time to go to this key room, there is a very limited window of opportunity to learn where the entrance to Hurgun’s Maze is.”

“That might not be a problem,” Martin replied, and then turned to the priest of Thoth.  “Do you know if there is a time deferential in this pocket plane?” (7)

“A whatsa whoozit?” Kazrack asked.

“We believe there is,” Cordell said. “Though we cannot be sure exactly the nature of it, all indications seem that a day spent there is the equivalent to less time here on the Prime.” 

“What is this place the Key Room is in? Can you describe it?” Kazrack asked.

“I found old records referring to the Mystic city of Topaline (8) in the journals of one of my order who lived with Hurgun as a guest in his maze and for several years, traveling abroad and through the planes with him.  It seems that Hurgun took the ruins of this old city as a place to keep a means to summon, lock and open his stronghold from anywhere, merely by reaching this pocket plane,” Cordell explained. “The reason why not many Mystic ruins are found in Aquerra is because the ancients built their cities in areas of space they themselves carved out.  Topaline is one of those places.”

“I have a hard time grasping this,” Kazrack said.

“It doesn’t matter, we cannot allow Richard to enter the Maze,” Ratchis said.  “At least, not without us, whether we enter this Key Room or not, we are still going to go in there and do what we have set out to do, and if we have to make an alliance with Richard to do it, then so be it, but we won’t be leaving our responsibilities to others, least of all him.”

“But will we have time to do both?” Roland asked.

“And if the Key Room is so important why doesn’t Richard go and we’ll take care of the Maze?” Kazrack asked.

“Richard the Red’s current state would make it dangerous for him to pass into a demi-plane,” Cordell of Thoth replied.

“From the little I know of Hurgun’s Maze it would not be much safer as it essentially a mobile nexus of the planes,” Martin said.

“Yes, but there is another issue,” Cordell said.  “Aquerra is a prime material plane.  It was created by the gods, and while it can be undone and corrupted it takes a lot of time and effort.  This demi-plane on the other hand was created by mortals, and it has been degrading for centuries, being sucked into the plane of Shadow and eventually the plane of Void itself.  It would be Richard’s undoing.” (7)

“So you are saying this city of Topaline and getting to the Key Room itself will be dangerous?” Roland asked.

“As if that couldn’t be assumed,” Logan said, rolling his eyes. “My question is, how much do the monks know?  They must not know about this Key Room and portal or else they would be here and not on the other side of the valley, but if we waste time in the Key Room and return with limited time to get into the Maze the camp of monks might overly delay us.  We should take them out before we go, and we should take them out even if we don’t go.”

“That is a good point,” Ratchis nodded. “The monks may have an idea where the entrance is already and are waiting for a chance to pinpoint it, and us unlocking the Maze might be it.  They do seem to be camped and waiting for something.”

“What exactly does ‘unlocking’ Hurgun’s Maze mean?” Kazrack asked Cordell.

“The accounts and records of Hurgun’s Maze say that while the Maze itself was a nexus not wholly in any realm, there were outer buildings and other fortifications that manifested in this world when he brought it here.  This structure is the key to gaining access.  We believe that the Key Room can be used to make it manifest, thus together with the knowledge you have about where the entrance is,  the task can be accomplished.”

“What do the buildings look like?” Kazrack asked.  “Is there a wall?  Are there towers?”

“Accounts differ, but it is safe to assume it is a fortress of some sort,” the Thothian replied.

“Richard! Richard!” someone came bursting into the temple from outside.  It was a young man with black hair and a permanent sailor’s tan. He wore studded leather armor, and held a spear.  There was a long sword at his side.  Behind him came two more young men. One was even darker skinned, with tight black curls and a chain shirt.  He carried a quarterstaff.  The other was short and pale with dark brown hair and a thin patches of facial hair on his sallow face.  It was Finn Fisher, Carlos and Josef.  The Shepherds.  They were out of breath.

Finn stopped short.  “Kazrack! Ratchis! What are you doing here?  Well, no matter, just in time!”

“Why? What is happening?” Kazrack asked.  “Though I am curious what you are doing here as well.”

“A lot of bad things have been happening since you guys went away,” Finn said.  “Richard the Red came and offered us his help.  He said he was a friend of yours.”

”And you believed him?” Kazrack asked.

“Why wouldn’t we?  He is an Academy mage, and wouldn’t you have warned us if someone was lurking about Summit who was dangerous?”

“He has been very helpful,” Carlos added in his halting Common tongue.

Martin the Green looked to Ratchis and the half-orc’s shoulders drooped.

“Anyway, outriders have returned from scouting, you know the militia has been mobilized and the women and children of Summit have been drawn back to camps in the main valley,” Finn explained. “Those fire lizard things came out of the steam area a couple of weeks ago when it erupted, belching all that smoke into the air.  They attacked the town and other outlying settlements like Archet, and if it wasn’t that it seems like a new group of them arrive every few days to feud with the ones that are already here we probably would have been overrun by now.  But that isn’t the problem right now…”

“Things have gotten really complicated without that,” Finn continued. “The interim General, the royal Huntsman, the brother of the Queen (9) was killed by evil demon gnomes. We fought one of them and that thing was nasty.  We were barely able to kill it.  The militia and mercenaries hired by the king were about to make an attack on the evil gnome village north of Greenreed Valley when the valley itself erupted.”

“The gnomes of that village are not evil,” Ratchis said.  “They are good people who have helped us and we are sworn to help them.  The demon gnomes are a faction, one family of gnomes bent on sowing chaos and causing unrest in the region.”

“You know about the gnomes?  You never mentioned them to us before, that might have been helpful,” Finn said, a little annoyance entering his voice. “That makes sense now, we heard rumors that the Royal Huntsman was negotiating a peace with the gnomes when the attack happened, but everyone assumed that it was those gnomes that did the attacking.”

“We should have facilitated the negotiations before we left,” Martin said.  “We were in too much of a hurry to get to the Pit of Bones and left our job undone.”

“It is too late for regrets,” Ratchis said.

Martin noticed Finn and Josef were staring at the state of his face and he brought a hand over his eye reflexively. 

“Pritchett must have been killed before he ever got to send word to the King about where we were going and why,” Martin added.  “But Finn,  you mentioned outriders returning?”

Finn nodded.  “Yes, they reported orcs, scores and scores of them on the march and on their way to Greenreed Valley.”

“An army,” Carlos shuddered.

”Perhaps the dragon is looking for the Maze?” Ratchis speculated out loud, remembering the great camp and the draconic silhouette they had seen as they made their way back from Nikar. (10)

“Maze?” Finn asked.

“It is a long story,” Martin.

“There seem to be several factions looking for the Maze, but none but Richard seem to be concerned about the so-called ‘Key Room’,” Kazrack said.  “I take that as a sign that he trying to trick or delay us.”

“Or that the others have not figured it out,” Roland said.  “For whatever faults Richard the Red may have, he is very intelligent and seems to surround himself with capable and informed people.”  The priest gestured to Cordell and his fellow Bastite.

Norena smiled, but Cordell was impassive as ever, taking notes of everything.

“There’s more,” Finn said. “More bad news… The king has hired a group of Neergaardian mercenaries not only to help organize the defense effort, but also to find and capture Martin.”

“What?” Everyone asked at once.

“Martin stands accused of abandoning his post,” Finn replied, sadly.  “He was not seen or heard from for months.  Supposedly, this group specializes in  capturing mages.”

*End of Session #78*


----------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	*DM’s Note:* _Resist Energy_

(2)	 *DM’s Note:* _Radiant Spark_ (see http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Spell+-+Radiant+Spark)

(3)	See Session #38

(4)	See Last Session (#77)

(5)	*DM’s Note:* _Detect Evil_

(6)	Most people of Aquerra refrain from saying the names of evil gods aloud, but this is especially true of Seker.

(7)	*DM’s Note:* Martin’s player was making a lot of Knowledge (planar) and Knowledge (arcana) rolls during these conversations.

(8)	The Plane of Void is another name for the Negative Material Plane.

(9)	The party met Gerard Pritchett, the Royal Huntsman in Session #51

(10)	See Session #74


----------



## el-remmen

* Session #79 (complete)*

“So we have a battle-mage, a paladin of Thoth and a small army,” Martin the Green ticked off on his fingers. The Keepers of the Gate had invited the Shepherds to come outside and discuss the situation out of the earshot of Richard the Red’s companions.  Finn Fisher had gone on to describe as best he could the company of Neergaardian mercenaries set on capturing Martin.

“They call themselves ‘the Company of the Impervious Ward’,” Finn said.

“Thirty is not a small army,” Logan said.

“It is around here,” Martin quipped.

“It is important for you to know that Richard the Red is not to be trusted under any circumstances,” Kazrack told Finn and his friends.

“But why not?  He has been helping to protect the town from the fire newts,” Finn said, growing annoyed again.  “I guess you don’t trust us either because I get the feeling that you have been keeping information from us we might have needed to protect people.”

“It is just that Richard the Red is willing to go to lengths that most of us would balk at because we have a conscience,” Ratchis said. “Including using charm magic, and he is seeking a place where great power might be for the taking which are trying to keep anyone from getting their hands on, but mostly the demon-gnomes.”

Logan noted that Josef and Carlos shared a quick nervous glance at that.

“How has the militia and townspeople reacted to Richard being around?” Roland asked.

“Uh, well, he asked us to keep his involvement secret,” Finn said.  “He said Martin did such a good job of botching his own reputation that it might not be good for people to know a second representative of the Academy of Wizardry was around.”

Roland could not hold back his laugh.

“What?” Finn asked.

”He _is_ clever,” Roland replied.

“We had better get back to town before anyone notices how long we’ve been gone,” Finn said.  “But we can get away again later; do you need anything from town?”

“More wine,” Roland said.

“And a wheel of cheese and some bread,” Logan added.

Finn nodded.  “I’ll try.”

“Remember, we are not here,” Ratchis said to the Shepherds. “And everything we told you was in confidence.”

“Don’t worry, you can count us,” Finn said, and the other two nodded.  As they walked away Ratchis cast _detect charm_ and saw no aura on their allies.

“So we are not going to the Key Room, right?” Ratchis asked the others.

“As far as I could tell Richard was telling the truth,” Roland said.

“Well, Richard may be telling the truth but still leading us astray,” Kazrack said.  “I am against going to this demi-plane place, but I will cast the stones tonight and see what the gods have to say, but if it were up to me I would let Richard’s companions go to this Key Room.  If we tell them we are not going and if they do not go themselves, then we know that it was not as important as he made it seem.”

“So, we aren’t going unless Kazrack’s gods are very clear in their indication, right?” Ratchis re-iterated.

“I can _commune_ with my goddess as well, but it will have to wait for tomorrow as I do not have the spell prepared,” Roland said.

“And even if we don’t seek out this Key Room, we should get these companions of Richard’s to come with us,” Logan said. “You all keep talking about how the Maze is near-certain death, so why not bring some more warm bodies and even up the odds some?”

“We will consider it,” Ratchis said, and then he turned to Martin.  “What do you say?”

“I don’t know.  We have time before a decision absolutely needs to be made,” Martin replied. “In the meantime, I think I am going to get Richard to give me some training.”

Back inside the temple, Razzle had returned from the catacombs.  He wore tall soft boots of a gray-blue color that matched his slicked hair.  He had a chain shirt over a cream colored cotton shirt and a velvet sash that was maroon in color.  He drew his sword and brandished it by way of greeting and put it away again faster than most could even see.

“If nothing else Richard the Red says can convince you that we are the ones to undertake this quest for the good of all, let it be only that I, the great Razzle Greyish, greatest of the Brothers Greyish shall be counted among his number,” he said to them.

As the evening wore on, Martin negotiated with Richard for some training, despite Kazrack telling the crimson watch-mage flatly that the Keeper of the Gate would not be going to the Key Room.

“I am not sure if I should be training you when I consider what it is you are carrying,” Richard the Red said ominously.  “If you give in to its corruption you will be that much harder to defeat.”

“If I give to the corruption of the Book what little power I will gain in these sessions will be the least of your worries,” Martin reasoned.

Richard nodded.

Kazrack, meanwhile, made his way down to the catacombs with Dorn and Logan.  The basement level itself gave way to narrow catacombs filled with niches for mummified corpses, most of which were empty. Beyond that the catacombs gave way to natural caves that plummeting beneath the ridge wall of Greenreed Valley.  Down there, Logan and Dorn waited outside of small cavern, while the rune-thrower went inside to throw his stones and consult his gods.

Throwing the carved runestones upon the hard stone ground, Kazrack formed his question in his mind and moved the stones into groups based on how they fell, and then suddenly he fell backward, thrashing and foaming as all around him went dark.

Kazrack was running across ashen grass.  The wind was high and howling at such a pitch that he felt deaf.  He looked back and could see the temple of Bast was looming and swollen against the dark horizon created by the ridge wall.  He was within Greenreed Valley, and his companions were blurred figures running beside him.  The sky was covered with storm clouds and a crack of thunder drew his eyes before him once again. There atop the highest part of the ridge wall, above the area he knew was called the Amphitheatre, buildings were erupting from the earth and way up into the storm clouds.  And from beyond the valley in the west a dark shadow rose and Kazrack was aware of a gathering doom that would come crashing into the valley, smashing against the walls of the buildings and he and his companions had to reach their dubious safety before the shadow arrived.

“It’s a good thing we know where to go and no one else does,” Ratchis’ blurred form said.  The sense of urgency was a palpable lump in Kazrack’s throat that swelled up with each step.

“Kazrack! Kazrack! Are you okay?” Dorn was shaking the dwarf when he opened his eyes and smiled widely.  “Is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine,” Kazrack said, sitting up and wiping his face and chin with his sleeve.  “I have come closer to direct communion with my gods than I ever have before.  We shall definitely not be going to the Key Room.”

Upstairs, Kazrack gathered his companions and relayed what he had seen.  

“And how do you interpret that as not needing going to the Key Room?” Roland asked.  

”We were hurrying to beat some great darkness to the place,” Kazrack said.  “If we were there and waiting we would not have to have been hurrying, and the fact that I looked back and saw this place means we were hurrying _from_ here, and here is where the entrance to the Key Room is.”

“I don’t think that is clear,” Roland said. “Maybe what Ratchis said in the vision means that because we know where the entrance is we can get into the place that was opened up by using going to the Key Room…”

“That is not what the gods meant,” Kazrack said. 

Roland shook his head.

“I think Kazrack is best suited to interpret the vision of his own gods,” Ratchis said.

“How can any mortals know what gods may or may not have meant?” Roland complained. “All they do is show us a new way of looking at things and leave the choices to us.”

“Correct, and with this vision I have been given I can see that the Key Room will delay us,” Kazrack said.

“I plan to ask my goddess on the morrow,” Roland said.


Balem, the 19th of Keent – 565 H.E.

Martin began his training with Richard the Red early in the morning, while Logan and Ratchis made some rounds of the area.  Kazrack retreated into the catacombs again to pray and work on his King’s Men pieces (1), while Roland swept off the altar area and sanctified it so he might _commune_ with his goddess in a place that was holy to her.  He lit incense and transforming into panther-form caught some rodents on the grounds and laid them on the altar.  He poured expensive wine of his own stock over them and sung softly to himself, preparing the sacrifice to pay for his _divination_ casting.

“Oh great queen Bast,” Roland knelt before he altar and held his out stretched arms to the ceiling. “Please look down on me your humble servant and let me beg your wisdom.  Your eyes see the smallest mouse that nibbles in the field, even as your roar can shake the foundations of Aquerra, please tell me what benefit it would be to seek the Key Room to Hurgun’s Maze? Or would it be our doom and failure?”

Roland fell prostrate and his body became rigid as he heard the purred whispered voice breathed into his ear … _Though it will bring you within a whisker’s breadth of failure, what can be gained there may bring you a rousing success…_

At lunch, Roland told them of his answer, and the group immediately fell to arguing as Richard and Razzle laughed and mocked.  They were gathered on the cracked floor eating some pigeons that Ratchis and Logan brought back; washing it down with wine.

“We need to go to the Key Room,” Roland said.

“Bah! The vision my gods sent me proves that we do not,” Kazrack said.  “Even the answer you gained warns of the folly of it. ‘A whisker’s breadth’ is very close to failure, and thus it is likely we would fail.”

“It does not say we _will_ fail,” Roland retorted.  “I take it to mean we will succeed.”

“Rubbish,” Kazrack said.

“If anything the white buildings you saw rising from the earth proves that the Key Room actually does something,” Roland reasoned. “Meaning it may be necessary for us to do it and we are lucky that we are the only ones who know where the entrance is in that fortress, or whatever it is.”

Kazrack was silent for a long time.

“D’naar, what do you think?” the dwarf finally said, turning to his half-orc companion.

“I think Roland has a point about the buildings, but while it may be necessary for anyone else to get in, it may not be necessary for us, with our knowledge,” Ratchis said.

“Oh great Bast!” Roland swore.  “Am I the only one who sees clearly around here?  The Key Room and the beam of light compliment each other! It will make getting in easier for use while other forces seek their own entrance or to stop us from making ours!”

“I only wish you could ask your goddess again and pose a different question,” Kazrack said. “Maybe you would get a better answer with a better question.  My people are well-schooled in the lore of divination, you should have consulted me.”

Roland covered his mouth with his left hand and swallowed his response. Taking a deep breath he finally responded. “It would be nice, but it is disrespectful for me to go to her again like this so soon.  I am supposed to make decisions on my own.”

Kazrack’s brow furrowed and his eyebrows lowered as he studied the Bastite, unsure how to take that last comment.

The argument went on interminably.  Finally, Martin went back to his studies with Richard, and Ratchis and Logan went out to do more scouting, while Dorn wandered off with Cordell to explore the catacombs some.  Razzle had climbed on the roof and was practicing drawing and sheathing his sword mid-cartwheel.  Roland and Kazrack were so engrossed with the debate they were oblivious to all else.  It went on for hours.

“The problem with continuing this discussion is the problem of a conflict between the words of my god and the words of yours,” Roland said.  “However, my emotional reaction to this…”

“Emotional? What are you, a woman?” Kazrack was genuinely shocked.  “Be a man and use your reason.”

“Kazrack, if what you use is reason, then I will happily stick with my emotions,” Roland replied.  The Bastite stood and went outside, wondering where Norena was, as he had not seen her all day.

“She took off in cat-form this morning to do some scouting,” Richard explained to Roland a little later when asked.  “She might not be back for days.”

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

Meanwhile, Logan and Ratchis found themselves back near Summit, creeping in the long shadows of the afternoon from ash-covered shrub to ash-covered stone across the grazing fields for the place’s many flocks of sheep and goats.  It all appeared abandoned.

Despite Ratchis’ frustrated whispered hissing, Logan crept even closer, dragging himself amid roots and mud to get right to the edge of the town, and watch from the shadow of some small houses that seemed abandoned.

Aside from some poorly equipped obvious Gothanian militia, he saw about two dozen men-at-arms wandering about.  It was hard to determine exactly how many from his vantage point, as they all looked similar from that distance, but he figured it was a good guess.  They wore chainmail and carried long spears. Most had heavy maces at their side. They wore road-stained doublets with an embroidered rune upon the chest he could not get a good look at. Logan also noticed the two men that seemed to be the leaders. One also carried a spear, and had a spear atop an ankh emblazoned upon his breast plate.  The other also wore plate, but carried a shield on his back with the symbol of a tome emblazoned with an ankh upon it.   As he made ready to creep away from there, the Herman-lander also saw a short-haired woman in bright red robes and carrying a staff.

Logan made it back to Ratchis, and night was falling as they got to the Temple of Bast once again.  Logan told the others what he saw.

“We will have to be careful to avoid them when we go to meet Gunthar tomorrow,” Ratchis said.  (2) “Roland, I was hoping you might come with me.”

“Do we really have to go get Gunthar?” Roland complained.

“We need his sword, if not his mouth,” Kazrack said, and Roland sighed and nodded.

The evening was passed playing King’s Men on a makeshift board, while Martin and Richard continued the training.  


Anulem, the 21st of Keent – 565 H.E.

Early the day before, Ratchis and Roland headed out.  The Bastite took panther-form and took point.  The others stayed behind.  Kazrack working on his King’s Men, Martin training,  and Dorn and Logan exploring the catacombs along with Cordell of Thoth.

Without Kazrack to slow them down, Ratchis and Roland had made great time in getting to the meeting place, but as it was, the sun was making a slow descent as they arrived.  They made camp and waited. 

In the morning, there was no sign of Gunthar, so Roland of Bast cast a _sending_.

“_It’s Roland. Ratchis and I are at the rendezvous point waiting for you.  Please briefly respond with your location and situation.  Don’t waste words on insults…_

The world seemed to go away for an instant, and Roland heard Gunthar’s voice as if from down a long narrow tunnel.

“_Hey ya friggin’ ponce!  Nice to distract me when I am sneaking around trying to keep Debo’s trolls from following me to where you are…_

Roland sighed.  “There was a reply, but I got a vision of him getting eaten by trolls…” Roland began in his snarling, mewling roaring cat-language.  Ratchis who had cast _Speak with Animals_ could understand and answer back, though. Roland continued.  “Okay, I am just kidding… He’s coming this way and he has trolls with him.”

“Do you have any idea where he might be?” Ratchis asked.

“No idea, why don’t you tell me, tracker?” Roland replied.

“It has been days since he left and it rained a lot.  Even if I could find his trail there is no guarantee he is coming back the same way,” Ratchis said, and then he suddenly looked up, feeling like they were being watched.  He was right.

Ratchis turned and saw a slight figure standing about sixty feet away under the cover a pine that was white with ash on its needles.  The man stood about five foot seven inches tall and wore all green and black, and a woolen cap.  He had a sword at his side and a short bow in his hands.  When he saw that Ratchis noticed him, he began to slowly walk over.

“That thing yours?” the man asked, point to Roland’s panther-form as he approached.  “Oh, hey! You’re that pig-f*cker that was around a few months ago, right?”

“Yes,” Ratchis replied.

“So, that thing yours?” the man asked again.

“He is a priest of Bast,” the half-orc said, wary.

“They letting panthers be priests of Bast now?” the man asked, surprised.

“No.  Priests of Bast can turn into panthers,” Ratchis replied.

“What? Like a were-panther?”

“No, like a priest of Bast.”

“Never heard of that,” the man spit and shifted his weight to one hip.  “Pretty dangerous in these parts, what with the fire lizardmen and the king’s goons riding around all over the place.”

Ratchis nodded.

“What’cha doin’ here, anyway?” the man asked.

“We are waiting for someone,” Ratchis said. “But we are worried that he might be waylaid by trolls.  Do you know of trolls in the area?”

“Trolls?!” the man laughed. “None that I know of. Ain’t been a troll in these parts for a hunned years.  So, priest of Bast, eh?  I heard that old Bast place up near Summit was being used for some dark stuff and some of them dragon-hunters…” The man laughed. “…Some of them dragon-hunters rousted out the evil priest that was in there.  Your kitty-cat friend here to restore it or something?”

“Most likely,” Ratchis replied.

“That where the rest of your friends are?” the man continued with his questioning.

“Who are you, again?” Ratchis asked.

“Oh, I’m Tyluk of Archet.  I, uh… I’m a friend of Siram.  You met him, right?” (3)

“Some of my companions did, yes…” Ratchis answered, still unsure if he should be having this conversation.

“The watch-mage?” Tyluk asked.

“Do you have any more useful information about this area?” Ratchis asked, avoiding the question.

“Uh, no…” Tyluk said.  “Well, I should be going.” He looked at Roland in panther-form.  “You can understand me?”

The panther’s head bobbed up and down.

“Wow…” And with the man went slinking back off into the woods. 

“Can you do another sending? We should not linger here too long,” Ratchis turned to the panther.

The panther’s head shook back and forth.  They would have to wait another day.


Ralem, the 22nd of Keent – 565 H.E. (4)

Soon after praying, Roland sent another _sending_ to Gunthar.

“_Hey buffoon, we need to return to the temple of Bast near Summit.  Good luck with the trolls!  Meet us at the temple.  Need help?  Tell me where?_”

The answer came like a wind through a reed.

“_Hey Cheese-puss, Debo double-crossed me.  Still over a day away.  I’ll try to meet you at the temple._”

Roland relayed this to Ratchis and they made their way north once again to return to the temple.

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

As Ratchis and Roland made the long hike back and the sun reached its apex, a bored Logan found himself on the roof of the temple of Bast, just keeping a look out, and occasionally spying on Martin and Richard through the skylight as they studied in the main chamber.  But then he thought he heard a whinny brought to his ear on the wind.  He stood and shielded his eyes, and could see horses appearing on the ridge from the south.  There were armored men making their way towards the temple.  He saw other men on foot coming up the ridge south of where the party had a few days before.

Logan scrambled over to the skylight.

“Hsst! Ra-worshippers! Soldiers.  Headed this way!” he hissed down to those below.

“Cordell is below!” Razzle said, moving to the vestry where the stairs to the lower levels were. “I will go get him.”

“I wonder who it is?  I guess I’ll find out,” said Richard, and promptly faded away.

Frantic, Martin ran for the vestry, but then doubled back to scoop up his spellbooks and scrolls and bring them with him. 

“Louis! Take the left flank,” an authoritative voice barked outside, as the sound of armored men enveloped the area. “Warren! Take the right!  Suel, up the middle!”

After a moment, Logan heard the soldiers at the temple door below him.  He was laying flat on the roof, nearly holding his breath.

“The door is secured, sir,” said a soldier.

“Hello?  Hello?” the leader’s voice called through the door.  “In the name of the Kingdom of Gothanius and the Company of the Impervious Ward, show yourselves!”

Thoom! Thoom! Thoom! The hammering of the mailed fist against the temple door echoed in the main chamber, and frightened that the soldiers would come in, Martin the Green finally hurried down the stairs of the vestry to the lower level.  A brick-walled hallway led into series of smaller chambers which included a kitchen, a larder and two storage rooms. Two halls reached back to where the catacombs and then more natural tunnels wound out within and beneath the ridge wall.

Unsure of which way to go, Martin guessed to the left and was happy to see Dorn coming back up the hall in his direction, oblivious to what was going on above.

“Go back! Take me to Kazrack!” Martin said to the cohort.  “The mercenaries are here.  They’ll enter the temple at any moment if they haven’t already!”

Shocked, Dorn led Martin back down the short hall through a thick wooden door past the niches for the dead on either side and then through a narrow archway to the natural tunnels.  It took a good ten minutes for the two of them to make to the cavern where the dwarf was still diligently carving his small pieces of stone.

“Can you use your invisibility to sneak past them?” Kazrack asked when Martin explained the situation.  They began to march back towards the catacomb doors to listen.  “We need to reach D’nar and Roland.”

“They have a wizard with them,” Martin replied, burying his face in his right hand.  “There is no guarantee that I can slip by them unseen or unnoticed.  If they are as trained to deal with wizards as Finn said they claim to be, they will be prepared for just such a scenario.”

“Then we fight,” Kazrack replied.  “Better to fight than to be taken prisoner.”

“Without Ratchis and Roland or Gunthar or Logan here?  Kazrack, you will die if we go up there and fight them on our own.”

“Me, but not you?” Kazrack asked.

“They have orders to take me alive,” Martin said, quietly.

“Then as I keep them busy you can flee invisibly and try to find Ratchis and Roland,” Kazrack suggested.

“What about Logan?” Dorn asked.

“Logan can take care of himself,” Kazrack replied. “Either he has been killed or captured already, or he has gotten away.  Let’s hope he can get to D’nar before he stumbles back into a trap.  But what about Richard and his companions?”

Martin explained that Richard had disappeared and that Razzle had come down here to find Cordell.

“They must have taken the other hallway to the other set of catacombs,” Dorn said.  “I have been exploring this side mostly, but Cordell spends time in other.  There are fewer catacombs on that side, but some very deep shafts.”

“Do they connect?” Kazrack asked.

“They may, but Cordell seemed to think there might be a way to get from one set of catacombs to the other in a very deep place,” Dorn said.

“You know, Norena has been gone for a day, perhaps she went and alerted this soldiers to your presence here, Martin,” Kazrack said.

“Unlikely,” Martin replied.  “What would that get her?”

“Perhaps she and Richard thought that if these mercenaries arrived we would be forced to go into the Key  Room to escape?” Kazrack speculated.

Martin shook his head.  “We don’t even know where the portal is.”

“I do,” replied Dorn.  “Cordell showed me the hatch that goes down to it, but he warned me that it was warded with a spell.”

“If the soldiers have not made it to the larder when we get up there we will go to the other hall and find Cordell and Razzle,” Martin said.  “As a priest of Thoth, perhaps Cordell can help negotiate a truce of some kind.”

“Or he may aid the paladin of his god,” Kazrack said.

“Again, I don’t see that working in his interest in terms of his goals with Richard,” Martin said. “In either case, we have to risk it.”

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

Meanwhile, Logan was still on the temple roof.  He heard the soldiers burst through the temple doors yelling to each other that the main chamber was clear.  And he could hear others making a perimeter about the unkempt temple grounds as well.

“They’ve escaped to the lower levels, sir,” Logan heard a voice report through the broken skylight.  The commander gave orders coolly, sending a unit to search below, while another was sent outside to do a quick search of the perimeter.

The was the sound of something cutting through the air, and suddenly there was a crimson figure rising over of the temple from beneath the ridge.  It was a woman in red robes with close-trimmed curly red hair.  She held a staff in one hand.

”There is someone on the roof!” she cried, looking down and seeing Logan crouched there.  “Stand down and prepare to be questioned!” 

Logan did not comply. He ran for the far edge of the roof and dove off, twisting and flipping in the air to land on his feet and hustle into the nettle-choked woods that surrounded the  temple grounds to the west and north.  

“There is one out here! There is one out here!” He heard soldiers’ voices calling to each other, and the zip of crossbow bolts cutting past him and biting into the earth.  As Logan crouched down and dove into the thick trees he heard the flying mage hiss arcane words and he felt the bite of arrows of glowing light in his back.  A javelin rattled against a branch above his head, but soon he was out of their view.

“Regroup! Regroup!” Logan heard another voice commanding. “Hold the perimeter.  He can’t go far if his companions are still inside.  He will have to come back.”

Logan remained hidden beneath a bush a few hundred yards away from the temple and cursed. 

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

Martin sent his _arcane eye_ out into the kitchen and larder, and spied the chain-garbed soldiers coming into the room and spreading out at the command of one of the lieutenants.

“We need to retreat!” Martin hissed to Kazrack and Dorn, when he saw three soldiers coming down the hall to the catacombs.  The three of them hurried back down as quickly and quietly as they could.

“We need to find the Black Door and go to this Key Room,” Martin said.  “This may be out only opportunity.”

“I still think we can make it out,” said Kazrack.

“We can’t risk it,” Martin said.  “Dorn, show us where the hatch is.”

Down into the depths of the earth they marched.  Martin the Green invoked the _rune of light_ upon the medallion he wore about his neck to light their way.  Dorn was in the lead, taking them down narrow winding steps of random lengths and heights, and through several dirt tunnels, past many more caverns, to a narrow place where a metal hatch capped a hole in black volcanic rock.

“There is a _glyph of warding_ on that hatch,” Martin said, scanning it with a _detect magic_ spell.

Kazrack Delver grabbed the bag of runestones about his neck and called to Lehrothronar to undo the protective magic, and the glyph faded.

“I will go first,” the dwarf said, and opening the hatched he made his way down the narrow shaft by means of a metal ladder.

*End of Session #79*


------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1) Kazrack has been carving stone King’s Men pieces in his free time throughout most of the campaign.

(2) Gunthar said he would meet the rest of the party back in the determined spot in four days time in Session #77

(3) See Session #29

(4) Kazrack’s birthday.  This marks one year in-game time since the campaign began.


----------



## el-remmen

* Session #80 (part i)*

The black brackish water in the narrow corridor below came up to Kazrack’s knee.  Something bumped against his leg, and he could see that pieces of bone with still rotting flesh on them floated here or there.  There were more empty niches for the dead high up on either side of the wall.  Metal doors book-ended the corridor.  Martin the Green came down next and Dorn followed.  They went to the left and found the large metal door there to be untrapped and easily opened.

Beyond was a room that was about forty feet by eighty feet, and on the far wall they could see the black stone border of some kind of archway or portal etched with golden runes. But the passageway and the runes were obscured by hundreds of pounds of dirt and stone, blocking the way.

“Could this be an illusion?” Kazrack asked.  

Martin shook his head.  “I don’t think so.”

“I remember long ago Finn saying that the evil priest had been using his captives to dig for the door,” Kazrack said. “I thought he had gotten closer than this.” (1)

“If I remember correctly, they spent some time covering the portal back up,” Martin said.

“It will take a long time to uncover all of this,” Kazrack said.  “Let’s go check the door on the other side.”

The other door had a ward upon it as well, and they had no way to dispel it this time.

“Well, this settles it,” Kazrack said. “We need to go above and do what we can to get past or defeat those mercenaries.”

Martin shook his head.  “That is a bad idea, Kazrack.”

”And if Roland and D’nar return and are captured?  What then?”

“That is unlikely to happen,” Martin explained.  “Ratchis is too deft a woodsman and tracker to not notice the guards, and even if he did not notice, Roland would smell them, and Logan is probably trying to meet up with them as we speak, so he will warn them regardless.”

“So we just wait?” Kazrack frowned.

“We wait for Roland to contact us magically, that way we can come up with some kind of rudimentary plan to deal with the situation.  In the meantime, I suggest we climb back up to the tunnels and explore and map them the best we can while we wait.”

Kazrack reluctantly agreed.

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

As the afternoon grew long, Logan Naismith crept southward keeping a look out for Roland and Ratchis.  Eventually, half a dozen miles from the temple, Roland caught a whiff of the Herman-lander’s scent on the wind and hurried ahead bursting through the brush to surprise his companion.  He nearly got a sword blow to the face for that.

”This is no time for playing,” Logan told the panther.  

“Those mercenaries I saw in the village have taken possession of the temple,” Logan explained when Ratchis had caught up to them.  “About thirty soldiers, a wizard and two priests.”

“Where are the others?” Ratchis asked.

“In the catacombs,” Logan replied.  “I didn’t like the idea of being trapped down there so I stayed where I was until I was spotted and then came to find you. Why isn’t Gunthar with you?”

“Because he is a moron,” Roland replied, transforming back into human form in order to take part in the conversation.

“Did they attack?” Ratchis asked.

“Sure as hell, they did,” Logan replied. “Me, anyway.  Luckily those soldiers are really bad shots, but the sorceress hit me with some spell as I fled the place.”

“And Richard and his companions?” Roland asked.

“Norena never came back, and I guess the rest of them are down in the catacombs as well, but if they are with Martin, Kazrack or Dorn, I have no idea.”

They decide to get closer to the temple of Bast and scope out the situation.  Roland transformed back into panther-form, guessing that the Company of the Impervious Ward may not have learned that the Keepers of the Gate had a Bastite among them.

They came around from the western side of the temple where the trees were thickest, and most covered in the ash still occasionally billowing out of Greenreed Valley.  Roland took point, creeping beneath the brush a few score yards ahead of Logan and Ratchis.   He smelled someone ahead to the left and then heard voices, so he flattened his feline body down and pulled himself quietly through the brush towards whoever it was.

He came upon a tall man in green dusty cloak and studded leather, holding a staff talking with a smaller younger man who also wore studded leather and a leather cap.  The younger man’s back was to Roland, so the Bastite could not see his face, but there was something vaguely familiar about his voice.

“I thought you said I would have gotten my money by now.  I thought you said I could trust these Neergaardians…” the young man was saying.  Roland could sense a bit of fear and apprehension in the man’s voice. “So they’re not gonna hurt them or anything, right?  I don’t have anything against them. I just needed the money…”

“Yeah, right… Just shut up already,” the other man replied, his eyes shifting from side to side. “I thought I heard something.”

Roland froze.  After a few moments, the older man, who appeared to be some kind of scout took off towards the temple, but the younger man remained behind. Roland could now see that there was small camp here in the clearing.  The young man moved over to the other side of the shallow pit where a fire had clearly been the night before and sat on a stump.  He had shaggy brown hair and a weaselly  face.  Roland recognized him as one of the Shepherds, but could not remember his name.

The Bastite crept back to his companions and explained what he saw. 

“So one of Richard’s little friends sold us out,” Logan spat.

“We’ll get the story from him,” Ratchis said.  “But we’ll wait for nightfall, and no killing.”  The half-orc looked at Logan.

They made their way further north and west and waited for Ra’s Glory to sink behind the valley, and then crept down towards the small camp.  Roland went in first, and the scout, whoever he was, was not around.  The Bastite growled a spell attempting to hold the young man where he stood feeding twigs to a fire, but the spell failed.  He looked up and saw the panther and backed away.

“Uh, hello Mister Cat,” the young man said, as Roland crept further into the clearing. “Not afraid of fire?  Are you like,  uh… a magical cat?  Can you talk?”

Roland growled in response.

“Why not leave me alone, Mister Magical Cat?” he backed to the edge of the clearing and pulled something down over his eyes.  Roland leapt at him, and the young man turned and ran through the trees, dodging root and branch deftly despite the darkness.

“Help! Help!” he cried as he ran down the sloping ridge, the panther on his heels.  Roland leapt upon him and the two of them tumbled painfully another thirty feet before coming to a stop with the Bastite holding the young man down, jaws about his neck.

“Mister Cat! Mister Cat!  Ah!  Who are you?”

“Yell again, you little bastard, and you’ll be singing soprano,” Logan said. He had made his way down the slope, sword drawn.

“But… But… But…”

Ratchis walked over from the south where he had been waiting to cut him off if needed.  He looked down at the captive and snorted his disgust.  It was Josef Barley-grinder.

“Gag him,” the half-orc said.

“Ratchis!” Josef said, but that was all he got out clearly..  Logan jammed a rag into the young rogue’s mouth.  “Raffchiff! Riff muh! Rofef! Dish ish uh mushtaesh!”

“Let’s get further away in case the scout comes back,” Ratchis said, turning and marching southwest.  “Bring him.”

Logan grabbed Josef by the cloak and dragged him up to his feet once Roland got off of him.  

“What’s this?” Logan asked as he pulled a pair of brown lenses with cupped metal frames and a leather strap off of Josef’s head.  They were goggles.  He dropped the young man to the ground again and slipped them on.  The night became a world of gray tones, that allowed Logan to see pretty clearly.  “Hey! These are magical! No wonder he didn’t stumble in the dark.” 

Logan dragged Josef along behind him, enjoying the goggles’ effect.

“You’re a priest of Nephthys! You’re not supposed to capture people!” Josef accused when they finally ungagged him about a half mile away from where he had been captured.  They had tied his hands behind his back and placed him with his back to a tree.

“We’re only going to hold you for a little while,” Ratchis replied, curtly.

“How much did they pay you?’ Logan asked.

“Pay me?  I, uh… I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Josef replied.

“Roland saw you talking to their tracker. Drop the act,” Logan replied.

“How much?” Ratchis asked.

“Uh… Two hundred pieces of silver,” Josef replied, meekly. “But… But they haven’t paid me.”

”So that’s the price you put on betraying someone who saved your life?” Ratchis asked, disgusted.

“They weren’t gonna kill him! They were just gonna take him to see the king,” Josef said by way of excuse.

“What about the rest of us, you little sh*t?” Logan barked, kicking the young man in the ribs.

Ratchis held his arm out in front of Logan to hold him back.

“Betraying your friends and not even bright enough to get paid for it,” Logan swore. “This kid makes me sick.”

“I’m sorry,” Josef said.  Ratchis had to keep Logan from kicking him again.

“What do you think Finn and Carlos would say?” Ratchis asked.

“They don’t see things the same, I guess,” Josef replied. “I want to get out of here.  I wanted to make my way back to the coast and buy passage on a ship back to Herman Land, or maybe Thricia… Are you going to let me go?”

“Let you go? We should run you through!” Logan sneered.

“We’ll let you go at dawn,” Ratchis said.

“He’ll go back to the temple and warn them!” Logan said. 

“I won’t do that! I promise,” Josef cried.

“Keep it down!” Ratchis barked, and then turned to Logan. “He will go back to town and continue to help the others, and if we find him near the temple again or talking to any of this mercenary band, then I’ll leave it to you to handle it.  In the meantime, keep those goggles, you can use them, and consider them payment for not killing him.”

“But those are mine!” Josef whined.  “I got them off the evil priest when we saved the captured townspeople!”

“Count yourself lucky that is all we take,” Ratchis snapped back.  “I will make sure you get them back when this is all said and done.”

Logan smirked.

Deep beneath the temple of Bast, Martin, Kazrack and Dorn found an isolated spot in a larger cavern, above ground level and made camp the best they could.  They took turns watching as the others slept.


Isilem, the 23rd of Keent – 565 H.E.

There was no way to know for certain that morning had come down in the tunnels beneath the temple, but Kazrack prayed and prepared his spells, as Martin the Green did as well; Dorn watching over them.

“I’m getting us out of here,” Kazrack said when they were done.

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

“I’m really sorry,” Josef said as they cut him free.  “I didn’t know it would turn out this way.”

“Just go back to town and remain loyal to Finn and Carlos,” Ratchis reminded the young man. “When we are done here we will do what we can to help you go wherever it is you want to go.”

Josef nodded and then took off towards Summit.

“You let him off easy,” Logan said.

“We are not all granted the same strength,” Ratchis said. “And Nephthys teaches that we should have compassion even to those that wrong us so they may learn the strength of doing good.”

Roland and Ratchis discussed what spells to prepare, and the Bastite informed the friar that he planned to use a _sending_ to contact Norena first, in hopes of getting her aid.

_”What’s your situation? Where’s Richard? Josef sold Martin out.  Need to get rid of hunters. Am with Ratchis and Logan south of temple. Reply.”_

Like the cry of whippoorwill, Norena’s voice came back half a moment later, whispered in Roland’s ear: _”Scouting orc army approach.  No idea where Richard is.  Will send him a message.  Who’s Josef?  Which hunters? What do you want from me?”_

“Well, that was useless,” Roland sighed.  He recounted what Norena had answered.  

“If Kazrack and Martin are not captured and are still down in the catacombs, how long do you think they’ll wait?” Roland asked.

“I think Martin and Kazrack are smart enough to wait for us to contact them somehow before making a move,” Ratchis replied.

“Well, _Martin_ is…” Logan said.

“I can’t speak for Kazrack.  His decision making processes are inscrutable to me,” Roland said. “He can do anything and have a reason for it.”

“There seems to be some logic there, I just haven’t figured it out yet,” Logan said.

“Kazrack is logical,” Ratchis said.  “It is just that he thinks in absolutes. He can’t work around that too often.”

“Maybe they will find another way out,” Logan said. “If there are natural caves down there it stands to reason there will be more than one way out.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean it would be easy to find, easy to access, or not many leagues away,” Ratchis said.  “I just hope Gunthar gets back soon.  We can use his help, and I want to cut him off before he goes bumbling into the a temple full of enemies.”

“Ah, forget him,” Logan said.

“Gunthar has helped us time and again. It would not be right to let him fall into a trap,” Ratchis said.  “We will make our way north of the temple and look for a place where we can spy it from above.”

“Shall I contact Martin with my remaining _sending_ and let him know the situation?” Roland asked.

“Hold off,” the half-orc said. “I think we may need to contact Gunthar again, but if we wait until later in the day we can save it the spell in case something changes.”

Roland nodded.

“If the soldiers are still at the temple when we get there then it is likely they have not captured Martin or Kazrack,” Ratchis continued. “They can stay safe in the catacombs until we figure out a way to get them out.”

The three members of the Keepers of the Gate made a wide circle westward and then northeastward again, climbing to the rocky plateaus where the ridge met the black flinty foothills of Gothanius’ northern border.

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

“This looks like it might be a good place,” Kazrack said, as he and Martin the Green and Dorn entered a nearly conical cavern at the end of a series of caverns off a broad natural corridor they thought might lead to the surface.  “We are close to the surface here. I can tell.”

Martin the Green cast _levitation_ on Kazrack and sent him to the cavern ceiling nearly fifty feet up.  Floating there, the dwarven rune-thrower called upon his gods to _soften earth and stone_.  There was crack as tons of sand, earth and stone came raining down into the chamber.  Martin quickly lowered Kazrack and the three of them hurried back to the entrance of the cavern waiting for the dust to settle.  There was now a ragged shaft winding up about six feet where the depth Kazrack had cleared away revealed an open space beyond.  The hole still dropped the occasional rock, and transmuted stone dripped as wet clay, like drool from a lazy mouth.   There was still tons of stone beyond before the surface could be reached.  

This process was repeated twice more, but after the third time, the three members of the Keepers of the Gate were force to retreat back even further, fleeing for their lives as a chain reaction of stone and mud came sliding down into the cavern, erupting into a cloud of acrid dust.

They waited for a long time in another cavern a few hundred yards down another natural corridor.  Plumes of dust roiled even this far, and they coughed as they waited.  Finally, thinking it had cleared enough and wanting to see if they might be able to reach the surface now, they marched back to the collapsed cavern.  

However, as they approached the cavern there was a sound like a stamp and a snort, and the light of Martin’s medallion revealed a hulking form of black stone charging in their direction.   It was in the shape of a great boar, nearly five feet at the shoulder, and its dense body nearly twelve feet long.  It rushed right into Kazrack, knocking the dwarf back, his breast plate crunching painfully.

 Dorn stepped back and loaded his crossbow letting an ineffectual bolt go. 

“By the gods! What manner of creature is this?” Kazrack yelled, bring his halberd to bare. 

“_Sagitta Igneus!_ Martin chanted and two arrows of flame rushed from his outstretched hand.  One flew high as dust flew into the watch-mage’s eye, but the second struck the beast in the flank, scorching its stone body.  “It is an elemental of some kind!” 

-------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1) See session #49


----------



## el-remmen

* Session #80 (part ii)*

“What could be causing that?” Logan asked Ratchis as they stood a few hundred yards south of the temporary camp they had made north of the temple.  Roland was back at the camp. It was situated atop the higher portion of the ridge, which the temple was built in the shadow of.  Ratchis and Logan could see a plume of brown dust roiling high up into the air from the eastern side of the valley wall, and the small figures of mercenaries moving to stand watch over it from their part of the ridge wall.

“I think it is time to have Roland contact the others,” Ratchis said.  “You stay hidden here and keep watch on what the mercenaries do.  I’ll be back.”

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

Kazrack’s bellow echoed in the  cavern as he slapped the blade of his halberd against the earthen dire boar’s tusks, wedging the shaft between them to pivot its head and break its charge.    Another bolt from Dorn’s crossbow snapped ineffectually against its stony head.

There was a hiss as a red glow appeared in the roiling dust.  A stony worm whose segments burned orange-white with heat squirmed from  the other direction.

“Thoqqua!” Martin warned the others.  

“Kazrack, we have another kind of something back here,” Dorn said, reloading his crossbow.  He leapt to avoid the worm’s head as it sprang at him.  The bolt hissed as it buried itself between two of its rings, bursting aflame.

Kazrack grunted, as he fought to keep the boar at bay and avoid it crushing him.

“_Lentus_!” Martin chanted and the molten-worm slowed its squirming. The watch-mage then cried out as he barely leapt out of the way of the broad bronze blade of a sword swinging out of the darkness of the cavern wall beside him.  The blade sliced his robes and he felt the skin scraped from his right shoulder.  There was a reptilian humanoid with dark green and black scales and a thick boney crest atop its head.  It wore a leather belt with a scabbard and pouches, and had a dark brown cloak hanging from a black chain about its neck.  The chain held three gemstones.  The flanking two stones were bright blue with white stars on their surface, while the central one was a ruby with a similar marking.  The new foe’s scales shimmered with speckles the same brown as the cavern walls and floor.

“_Glacht es tassar_!” the reptilian attacker hissed “Try and get the eggs will you?”

“Are these creatures summoned then?” Kazrack asked, turning to notice the new foe, but allowing the elemental boar past him . It slammed into Martin and the watch-mage stumbled back, blood bursting from his nose as his left eye grew black.  The dwarf carved a wedge in the boar’s flank as it went past him.

“We don’t know anything about any eggs!” Martin said to the creature.  He had tried to cast a spell, but the boar had ruined the incantation. He gagged and felt a wave of fatigue as a disgusting stench erupted from the reptilian thing as it put some distance between itself and Kazrack, giving the elemental room to spin about.  He sliced Martin’s chest with his sword as he stepped back, saliva dripping off one of his green-crusted fangs.  

“Defiler of Hurgun!” the creature accused.

The boar slammed into both Dorn and Kazrack as it came around.  Dorn cried out as he stepped back into the thoqqua. The leg of his pants burst into flame and he began to frantically beat at it.

“Good creature! We know nothing of any eggs,” Martin managed to choke out.  “We sought only to escape this place.  I implore you, call off your attack!”

“Make a sacrifice for the earth-god,” the thing hissed, stepping back even further.

Kazrack slammed the blade of his halberd into the elemental boar’s head and it exploded, sending shards of stone in all directions.  The rest of it fell into a pile of dirt.  The dwarf spun on the worm and sliced it in half.  It hissed and disappeared.  The reptilian attacker stepped back into the darkness and was gone.

“Martin, if you can stop that creature, stop him anyway you can.  He may bring others,” Kazrack said.

“We have no interest in fighting you or harming your eggs!” Martin the Green called after it.  “We have no wish to harm any of your people!  Come back!  We would speak to you of Hurgun!”

Kazrack sighed.  “Let us try and finish our job and get out of here before that thing returns.”  He laid a hand on Dorn and healed his burns.

The three Keepers of the Gate made their way to the chamber and examined the rent in the earth above them.  Kazrack climbed up the pile of earthen rubble and stone to see that something was blocking the passage he had created.  A large pine tree was askew about three quarters of the way up, with more stone and earth trapped behind it.  In a few spots, sunlight came through small gaps, when the dust cleared enough to allow it, but occasionally there was another slide of earth and stone that kicked up more clouds.

“There is a lot of earth and stone that has to come out that small hole,” Martin said, looking up.  “I don’t think this going to work.”

“Leave it to me,” Kazrack said.  “A few more spells and we’ll be out of here.”

Suddenly there was a sound like the rushing of wind in Martin’s ear and his awareness shrunk down to a pinpoint of light through which he heard Roland’s voice like a tinny echo. 

“_Ridge collapsing northeast of temple. Soldiers watching.  Logan, Ratchis waiting north of temple for Gunthar.  Norena scouting approaching orc army. Message  tomorrow to coordinate rescue._”

“_Deep underground with Dorn, Kazrack_” Martin replied by means of the spell. “_Can’t find others. Escaped soldiers. Kazrack magically digging exit caused collapse. Encountering lizardfolk, elementals, Hurgun mentioned.  Will await messages tomorrow._”

“We have to wait for tomorrow anyway,” Kazrack said when Martin relayed to him and Dorn Roland’s _sending_.  “I miscalculated how many spells it would take.”

Martin looked at the many cracks that spidered out from the hole, riddling the wall to their right, where some large pieces of stones had also fallen from.

“Do you think that is a good idea?” Martin asked. “It seems it was this tunneling that angered that lizard creature.”

“If there is some reason we should not do it, let this creature tell us in a civilized manner rather than attack us like some base rogue,” Kazrack replied.  “Anyway, we need to get out of here, and the only other way is blocked by soldiers.”

Martin the Green nodded.

“Lizardfolk? What is he talking about?” Logan asked Roland and Ratchis, when he returned from his watch and they told him what Martin has said.

Roland shrugged.


Osilem, the 24th of Keent – 565 H.E.

Martin the Green sent his invisible _arcane eye_ through the crack in the cavern that had widened while he, Kazrack and Dorn rested the night in a more distant room.  Kazrack was examining the main attempt at tunneling, trying to figure out the best way to collapse the whole side of the ridge, hoping he’d take as many nearby soldiers in the process.  Dorn stood guard with loaded crossbow; the medallion about his neck shining its light like a beacon.

Not too far beyond the crack Martin spied an adjacent chamber.  It was much lower than the digging room, and the eye sunk quickly to see its rounded base with a great fire in the center atop a raised dais of stone that was round as well, being in perfect proportion to the room.  He could see that the walls were carved to create narrow cascading rows of balconies reached by a honeycomb of narrow passages. 

On one side of the round dais kneeled the reptilian priest, his scales shimmered orange red and blue as the fire crackled before him, devouring huge clumps of coal.  Across from him was a set of stone double-doors carved with many runes. They stood ajar, so Martin had his eye zoom down the hallway beyond. The passage was only seven feet wide and about as high, but it was definitely wider than the other passages leading from the balconies.  The corridor sunk deeper into the earth and led to midway up the side of the wall of another round chamber.  This one was much deeper, and had cascading niches all down the sides, each niche holding a glowing coal-stone and a speckled egg about the size of two human fists.

Kazrack called to his gods and healed all the wounds he suffered when fighting the elemental the day before.

Martin described what he had seen.

“If we are delayed in getting to Hurgun’s Maze because of this, those eggs shall be endangered anyway,” Kazrack said.  “But I will try to make our tunneling not affect that chamber.”

“It is worth the risk?” Martin asked in his typical worried tone.

“Yes.  The thing is just a monster.  We cannot hold its nest above our need to save Derome-Delem,” the dwarf replied. “Now please levitate me up so I can reach obscured area that holds that tree in place.  I think if I soften the area around it, that whole curved portion will shift and create a more vertical tunnel.”

Martin sighed and nodded, but suddenly there was another sending from Roland.

“_One soldier watches.  Wait until dark. We’ll be at base of ridge. Can escape together. Gunthar missing.  We will contact him. Give Kazrack big hug._”

“_Can’t tell time underground,_” Martin replied. “_No idea when night falls. Lizardfolk threatens will escape next hour and hourly there after.  Good luck.  See you soon._”

“How can he tell an hour’s passed but he can’t tell when nightfall is?” Logan swore.

*End of Session #80*


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #81 (part I)*

“I still think we should seek out that lizardfolk and negotiate with him,” Martin the Green said, even as he concentrated to send Kazrack up into the cracked ceiling with a _levitation_ spell.  It had been about an hour since they had communicated with Roland, or so they guessed.  “He may know another way out.  He may have information we need about Hurgun’s Maze.”

Kazrack did not respond, but held the pouch of runestones about his neck and chanted in the tongue of his people, “Lehrothronar, please let me soften  this earth so it does as little damage to this cavern as possible, and help free us to do this task the gods have assigned to us.”

Tons of earth and sand came rushing down once more, and Martin lowered a coughing Kazrack and they retreated once again. There was a resounding crack, as large portions of the north and east walls of the chamber came thundering down.  The three Keepers of the Gate doubled their pace as they noticed cracks stretching out above them just before they were enveloped by a cloud of brown dust.

Logan saw the plume of dust coming from the crack in ridge explode into life, showering the area with small stones and making the spot visible for many miles.  He could hear the muted cries of alarm from the soldiers about it, and he could see their shining forms hurrying back.  The crack was so loud, Roland and Ratchis heard it back at the camp, and they both hurried to get a look at what was happening; Roland taking a moment to change into panther-form.

The small circular crack had become a rent down the side of the ridge, and more portions of it were collapsing all the time, making it seem like it was storming beneath the earth.  There was soon a jagged scar that ran down the side of the ridge that looked very deep in places. 

Two soldiers were hurrying back up the ridge to the temple, while two others kept watch over the holes.  It was not getting any bigger, but there was still a steady plume of dust coming up and the occasional rumbling of earth.

A few moments later there was a red flash, as the figure of the female wizard came flying out of the temple, staff in hand.  They could only tell it was a woman because the way the wind pulled her crimson robes tight about her body, for she wore her hair closely cropped and had a plain face.

She hovered over the rent in the earth, obviously examining it.  She sent a small globe of light to dance about amid its crags.  It was occasionally blocked as it moved through the plume.

“I say we take that bitch out right now from here,” Logan said, fingering an arrow in the bow Ratchis had lent him, but he did not raise it.

“Do you have any more _sendings_?” Ratchis turned to Roland and hissed.

“Mrowr?” the panther turned his head.

“Can you speak? Can you cast it in that form?  If not change back and tell them not to come up the hole, the mage is over the hole!”

“There’s light!” Kazrack choked, pointing to where the crack was in the ceiling.  The area that had once been the wall to their right was now several hundred feet below them and roiling with dust.  Breathing was difficult.  “Let us get over there and I will carry you as you raise us out.”

“Are you strong enough to carry me?” Martin covered his mouth with a handkerchief.

“I am strong enough to carry both of you,” Kazrack said, looking at Dorn.  “And I mean to.”

There was another shudder of the earth and their view of the crack was obscured again, and they were forced further away by more falling rock.

“_Martin_,” Roland’s voice was ice-cold in Martin’s mind. “_We’re one hundred and twenty feet up the slope, meanwhile enemy mage hovers over the hole.  Are you prepared for us to attack her? _”

“_Stay hidden.  We’ll wait one hour for aftershocks and mage’s flying spell to end, then we’ll emerge.  If they come down, we’ll try and hide. _”

“Logan, can you read?” Ratchis asked and the young Herman-lander nodded.  The half-orc pointed to the crude letters the panther had just scratched in the earth. “What’s that say?”

“Wait one hour,” Logan read aloud and spat.

Ratchis grunted his disapproval.

“I didn’t think you were going to bring so much down,” Martin chastised Kazrack.  “So much for the egg chamber.”

“I had to do what I had to do in hopes of getting as many of the soldiers around the hole as possible,” Kazrack said.

”I do not think you got any,” Martin replied.

“I had to try,” the dwarf said again.

After a time, they made their way back carefully to where the hole in the ridge was, and now they could seem light more clearly coming from several places, but mostly from a ragged uneven hole about one hundred feet above them.

Suddenly there was a voice from above. “Martin the Green!  Martin the Green!  We know you are down there! Parley!” (1)

It was a man’s voice.

From their hidden perch above, Logan and Ratchis watched more soldiers go down to the hole, including two heavily armored men they took for the leaders.

“This is bad,” Logan said. “They are waiting.  We should kill them now when they least expect it.  You know that is where this is going, that is where these kinds of things always go, for better or worse, and that’s killing.”

“We should hide!” Martin hissed when the voice came booming down..

“We should parley,” Kazrack replied.  Martin’s eyes opened wide, amazed at how quickly the typically stubborn dwarf appeared to change his mind.

“If they will listen to reason, we have to try,” Kazrack said.  “We had no reason to think they would parley before.”

“But what if they use magic to charm or bind us?” Dorn offered.  “They might not really know where we are.  It could be a bluff.”

“They would have to see us to cast a spell on us,” Martin said.  “And we can stand away from the hole where our voices would carry to them, but still not be easily pinpointed.”

Kazrack nodded.  The three of them moved off to one side, where they could see the rent in the earth above them, but could not be seen.

“We are ready to parley!” Kazrack called, cupping his hands about his mouth to project his voice.  Bits of earth and stone rained down from the hole due to the vibrations, and Dorn and Martin tensed up.

“Martin the Green?” replied the deep voice of a man.

“Who calls?” Martin cried up to the hole.

“Ancellus of Anhur, High Militant of the Company of the Impervious Ward,” the warrior-priest called back.  “Give yourselves up!”

“If that’s what they mean by parleying this is going to get us nowhere,” Dorn sighed.

“You are in the employ of the king of Gothanius?” Martin asked back.

“Yes!”

“No good way out of this one,” Martin whispered as an aside to his companions.  He called up once more. “And you consider King Brevelan III to be the rightful ruler of this kingdom?”

“If not his majesty, than who?” the militant of Anhur called back.  “He is the rightful sovereign of this kingdom, supported by his subjects and by the glory of Ra.  We are to bring you back to face his justice, and you only make it worse for yourself by resisting.  We do not want to take extreme measures to retrieve you, but we shall if we must.  Remember, you are the only one we need bring back alive.”

“And if I agree to return with you to Twelve Trolls, I will be free to go once I have seen the king?” Martin asked.

“If you are not guilty…”

“What are the charges?”

The militant cleared his throat and paused before listing them. “Dereliction of duty, conspiracy with foreign powers to practice sedition, and withholding evidence that was vital to the defense of Gothanius.”

And if I come with you, my companions will be free to go?” Martin called.

“We are to bring them all for questioning.”

“Sorry, but I am too busy trying to save the kingdom and the rest of Derome-Delem in my duty as watch-mage,” Martin called. “And anyway, I am not guilty of those things, so this is waste of time.”

“Whatever duties you may have to your Academy cannot come before the decree of the rightful monarch and the law,” Ancellus replied, anger creeping into his voice.

“In my station as watch-mage I can ask you to stand down,” Martin the Green, gritting his teeth with desperation.

“Whatever jurisdiction you may have had has been rescinded since there are official charges against you,” the Militant of Anhur said.

“An exception must be made in this case…” Martin began.

“The law does not bend,” the follower of Anhur replied.

Kazrack’s voice chanted in the tongue of his grandfathers calling to Natan-ahb to soften the earth and stone at base of the rent in the earth above them.  There was another thunderous crack, and Martin and Dorn and Kazrack ran for their lives as the entire ceiling came down above them.

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

Logan, Ratchis and Roland had watched the parley and wondered what was being said.  Twice more Logan suggested acting immediately while the mercenaries were occupied and their leaders were vulnerable on the lower ridge wall, but Ratchis refused.

“They may be talking to Martin and coming to some kind of agreement,” Ratchis reasoned.

Suddenly, the scene disappeared in a plume of dust that erupted so violently they were startled.  Voices cried out in dismay, as the soldiers scattered out of the plume in all direction fleeing from the widen cracks all up and down the ridge.  The red-robed wizard swooped down and pulled one man to safety, while others leapt and rolled.   Miraculously, the two leaders in plate mail survived, throwing themselves down the steep slope.  They eventually emerged battered, but alive.

“They lost at least two, maybe even five,” Logan said, trying his best to keep careful track.  “But I wouldn’t bet on more than two.”

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

“It is as I feared all along, we’ll have to fight our way out,” Kazrack was saying moments later as he, Dorn and Martin hurried back down the passage to the caverns closer to the catacombs and the temple.

“Why didn’t you say that before?” Dorn asked, uncharacteristically sounding annoyed.

“I thought it was assumed that we had to try another way if at all possible,” Kazrack replied.  “It is unfortunate, but I may have to slay all of them.”

Martin laughed nervously.

It was nearly an hour later when they made their way back up to the catacombs and the hallway that led to the door into the kitchen and larder.  Martin the Green used his _arcane eye_ spell to scope out the temple, and found there were still many soldiers in the kitchen.  At least seven were guarding that lower room, and then he saw two more by the stairs, three at the top of the stairs and over a dozen in the main chamber, though some of these were resting.  Outside, he saw young pages tending to a half-dozen horses and mules.  Two of the horses were fine heavy destriers, their barding was off and was being scrubbed by one boy.  There were also more soldiers.  One was on the fragile roof of the temple, and others were set up in pairs at the corners of the open grounds and the rock garden.  There were still others he noted patrolling the woods beyond to the west.

“We are not going to get out this way by fighting without being more coordinated with Ratchis and the others,” Martin finally said.  “This will have to wait for tomorrow.”

“But I thought we already coordinated?” Kazrack was confused.

”Yes, but we didn’t know the situation before, now we do,” Martin replied.  “When they see no alarm has been raised they will realize we are not trying to get out and they will wait, anyway they were expecting us to come from the crack in the ridge.  After that collapse, they can’t be expecting that anymore.”

”I hope you are right,” Kazrack said, as they began to walk back down to the caverns to hide for the rest of the day and night.

Luckily, Martin was right, and as night fell and still there was no sign of their companions, Roland, Ratchis and Logan climbed quietly back up the black hill into the deep trees and slept.

Kazrack found a small cavern with a raised floor that looked defendable and they did their best to make a camp as they had the two nights before.  While Kazrack loved the bare stone, the other two adventurers were cold and aching, as they did not have much of their camping gear with them.  And while Martin the Green was wearing his ring, _Lacan’s Demise_, he had only put it on two days before and the power that kept him from needing to eat or feeling hunger had not activated yet. (2)

As they did their best to get comfortable there was a sudden vibration in the ground, as the floor of the chamber began to ripple near the center, as if the hard-packed earth and slabs of stone were liquid.  A bizarre creature rose from the swirling earth.  It was a little over three feet tall and had a squat body like a rounded cone.  Its skin was brown, gray and red stony scales, both like and unlike a lizard’s, and it had three arms, three legs and three large eyes spaced evenly about its body.  But perhaps most disturbing of all, was its three-lipped mouth of jagged teeth at the top of its body.  In a moment the rippling effect was gone and the creature walked on the solid earth towards them.

“I think its time we face the lizard-priest,” Martin said quietly, and standing.  He began to look around for signs of more disturbances in the surrounding cavern.

“Let us try and talk with him,” Kazrack said.  Martin laughed a nervous laugh again.  Dorn was loading his crossbow.

“Nyaaah, nyahh! Destroyers,” the thing said with an echoing alien voice.

“We will not destroy unless forced to,” Kazrack replied, hefting his halberd.

“Come… Message from Snuchri send…” the thing said.

“What is the message?” Kazrack asked.

“He swears blood vengeance  on you and your kin… When the time of mourning is done expect him to come.  This is your only warning,” the creature’s voice displayed no emotion, and perhaps not even understanding of what it was saying.

“I understand,” was all Kazrack said.

“Destroyer of his line, there is no forgiveness,” the creature said and it came closer, turning and revealing that one of its clawed hands held something white and speckled.  Kazrack held out his two hands and the creature dropped two pieces of broken eggshell into them.

The thing walked back to the center of the cavern and then melted back into the stone floor.

Martin just shook his head.

------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1) *DM’s Note:* Martin isn’t the only one with the _arcane eye_ spell.  

(2) This takes seven full days.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #81 (part ii)*

Tholem, the 25th of Keent – 565 H.E.

Soon after Martin and Kazrack came up with a plan for getting out of the caverns and through the temple, Martin received a _sending_ from Roland of Bast.

_”It’s early morning.  We should attack within the hour using two directions and surprise.  Detail any other plan. We must move along either way. Now._

_”We’re ready.  Will try and carve out opening in rear of temple using magical silence.  We’ll move first; You watch. Engage when they’re stirred up.”_

Roland, Ratchis and Logan made their way to the stony grade just above the temple of Bast and north of it.  They squatted among the thorny bushes there, remaining hidden.

“Once the others emerge and if they are spotted, we will have to distract the mercenaries to allow them to get away,” Ratchis whispered, though he mostly reiterated the plan for Logan’s benefit.  “If their defenses are too well-organized, however, we may have to run as well as soon as the others are clear.”

“Heh.  I am not too worried,” Logan replied.

“There are a lot of them,” Ratchis said.

“We fought a lot of those fire newts,” Logan said.

“There’ll fight better than that, and the fire newts didn’t have powerful clerics and mages in their number.”

“Well, I’ve seen more of this company than anyone and I am not impressed by their men-at-arms,” Logan said.

“We take out the mage first, if at all possible,” Ratchis said.

Logan nodded.  “If we take out the leaders, the others are almost certain to break and scatter.”

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

Just outside the door from the catacombs, Martin quietly made himself, Dorn and Kazrack _invisible_.  Dorn was in the front of the line, with Kazrack holding on to his belt, and Martin keeping his hand on the dwarf’s shoulder.  Kazrack then cast _silence_ on a coin and fumbled it over to Dorn.

Dorn pushed the door open slowly, and was glad that the swollen wood and rusted hinges aided in making it an easy task.  Kazrack’s spell dampened what was normally a very creaky egress.  The cohort froze instinctually as he saw one of the mercenaries frown and turn to look at the door, which he noticed move out of the corner of his eye.  The guard put a hand to the hilt of the sword at his side and walked towards the door.  He wore a tabard of red and gold over his chainmail and a heavy helm with a nose-guard.   The man-at-arms looked beyond the door, and then shrugged and turned around.

“I think Sergeant Sewell is right,” the man said to his companions.  “We should board those doors up, they keep opening up.”

The three adventurers heard nothing of what was said, but breathed easy, seeing the guard go back into the kitchen and take up a more relaxed stance at the end of the narrow hall. They continued to move forward slowly.   There was another guard just at the end of the narrow hall and two more at the entrance to the hall that led to the other set of catacombs.  Two more guards stood at the exit of the room. It was a broader hallway that turned right and led up the stairs to the vestry.

Dorn, Kazrack and Martin had made it to the corridor when the guards began a confused pantomime.  The radius of the silence spell moved past them and one of them noted that something was not right.  He tried to cry out, but nothing came, and then suddenly his voice returned, even though the fleeing dwarf and two humans could not hear him.

“Intruders!  Invisible intruders!  They came out of the catacombs! They’re invisible!”

With a confidence that only came from practice, the mercenaries formed a curved line, their arms outstretched as they felt around for their invisible foes. Other guards took their long spears from where they leaned on the wall and took up positions between their searching companions, thrusting their spears forward.  However, Dorn, Kazrack and Martin had already made it into the hall, and the _silence_ blocked the guards on the far end from hearing the commotion.  However, as the three came around the corner, the hallway was wide enough to allow sound to get by and the mercenary at the top of the steps, hearing the others came down with his sword drawn.

“Where are they? Where are they?” the guard cried, but suddenly his voice was gone as well as the Dorn, Martin and Kazrack hurried past him up through the trapdoor into the vestry.  Luckily, there were no guards there.  Dorn allowed Kazrack to take the lead, the dwarf hurrying out of the vestry by means of the left hand door and around to the narrow rear hall of the temple’s main chamber. Now outside of the area of effect of the _silence_ spell, Kazrack could here more men-at-arms in the large main chamber, and he tried his best to make no sound.

The man-at-arms who had been on the steps came hurrying back up, trying to call out to his companions, but his voice was gone once again as he bumped into Dorn and fell back down the stairs slamming into his allies as they came around the corner with arms still outstretched looking for the invisible foes.  Martin and Dorn left the vestry coming around the corner to join Kazrack  who has just used the power of his gods to sculpt a narrow passage (1) through the temple’s outer wall.  Dorn threw the _silenced_ coin away, (2) and they could hear the mercenaries coming up into the vestry, yelling and the other guards in the main chamber hearing the raised alarm and coming to investigate.

“Split up!” Kazrack told his friends, and he hustled off towards the sparser trees on the right.  Martin the Green, however, kept his grip on Dorn, who took off to the left.

“Movement in the woods!” cried the guard atop the roof, as the mercenaries poured out the temple, both from the front and out the hole Kazrack had created.

From their vantage point, Ratchis and Logan saw the commotion.

“Do you suppose they found them?” Ratchis asked.

“Well, they are chasing someone, and it would be too much of a coincidence if it just happened to be someone else,” Logan replied.

”It could be one of Richard the Red’s companions, but I doubt it,” Ratchis replied.  “Let’s go down into the woods and move parallel with them, ready to strike.”

Roland growled his agreement. They split up as well. Ratchis made straight for the temple, but Roland and Logan made around by way of the thicker western woods.

“There is one! Quadrant alpha,” the mercenary on the temple roof shouted pointing to the north.   There was a flurry of arrow fire, and Kazrack quietly swore as one whizzed by him quite by accident.

Ratchis cried out in pain, as an arrow clipped his arm.

“Anhur! Grant me sight beyond sight so that all might see these cowards who do not fight like men and flee like thieves, so that I might skewer them on my divine spear,” a voice bellowed from the edge of the woods.  “There is the stonefolk and the half-breed!”

Ratchis brought his great sword before him and looked around wildly for Kazrack.  Not seeing the dwarf even though he was now visible, he started to run back towards the rise, leading the guards away from the temple.  

“D’nar! He can see me!  I do not think we can outrun them all!  We must take a stand!” Kazrack called, catching sight of his companion..

Four of the mercenaries broke through the treeline from Ratchis’ right, cutting off Kazrack and setting up a line of long spears.  The half-orc could hear more coming through the trees on his left.  The militant of Anhur came into the long narrow clearing.  He had a full blond beard and was nearly as tall as Ratchis. His half-plate armor was dented and scratched, but over it he wore a maroon tabard set with a silver spear emblazoned on an ankh.  The same symbol was created in actual silver on a chain about his neck.  In his hands he a wickedly sharp spear with broad slightly serrated edges.

“Anhur! Anhur! Anhur! Fill me with your divine wrath! Your endless diligence! I shall forget fear and strike straight with my spear for justice and law!” The militant’s voice grew deeper as he spoke, and his words grew more difficult to understand, as he began to huff and puff as if having a fit.  He charged at Kazrack, crying his god’s name aloud one more time.

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

“Martin! Follow me!  I saw Ratchis,” Dorn hissed to the watch-mage, but Martin had lost his grip on the cohort amid the thick trees, and had to stumble towards the voice the best he could, as two spear-wielding mercenaries came bumbling towards them from the right.

Martin the Green saw Roland’s lithe panther-form, moving silently and smoothly as a shadow, his deep blue-black fur lending something to the illusion of it.  The Bastite leapt into a nearby tree to get a view of the approaching guards at the edge of the treeline. 

“Roland! It’s me! And Dorn is around, too.  Kazrack is somewhere ahead, near where I think Ratchis is,” the watch-mage called up as loudly as he dared.

The Bastite looked around and took a whiff.  He growled, as he saw a couple of the guards approaching, with crossbows ready just outside of the woods and looking in the direction of Ratchis.  He could also see the crimson-robed battle-mage floating above the temple to get a better view.  

Dorn took off back into the clearing about the temple making for the more open area north of it where Ratchis was hurrying to cut off the Ancellus of Anhur. He unwittingly got into the range of  the militant’s _invisibility purge_.  Roland leapt down out of the tree and ran right at the bow-wielding men-at-arms to keep them from targeting Ratchis.  The guards re-aimed their shots at the last minute, but it was to no avail. They were unable to get a good bead on the great cat pounding towards them.

The militant wizard swooped down with great speed, lining herself up perfectly as she rubbed bit of fur on a metal rod and cried, _Fwam! Fwam! Fwam!_  A bolt of lighting burst out in front of her.  The sudden blast of light shocked Roland and Dorn as both were able to roll away from the brunt of it, but the bolt sliced through a tree setting it ablaze and just before dissipating got just far enough to fry Ratchis as well.  He shook violently and was thrown to the ground. (3)

On his hands and knees, Ratchis called to Nephthys and healed his wounds, but then shuddered again as a bolt struck him from one of the men-at-arms.

“Nice shot, dead man,” Logan quipped as he stepped from behind a tree and viciously cut down the mercenary with one hard blow to the neck.  The Herman-lander smiled and moved on to the next soldier, but keeping an eye on the wizard.

“Great queen, Bast!  Thou who art as powerful as thou art graceful,” Roland chanted in his head, growling the equivalent in the speech of cats (4). “Grant me the benison of one of thy children.”  He turned in a wide circle and roared and in a flash there appeared a golden lion, its full mane swaying in the cold wind.  Its roar echoed Roland’s, but it did not attack, holding back at the Bastite’s command.

Four of the six mercenaries that had been near Ratchis moved to engage Kazrack.

Two more men were coming around from the other side of the temple. They bore long swords and mediums shields, but also had heavy maces at their sides.  There appeared behind them another man.  He bore a silver medallion shaped like an open tome about his neck, an ankh emblazoned upon it. He bore a shield with a similar device with an arcane runes on each side of it  and a dull gray heavy mace, not the long spears of the rank and file soldiers.  The other man was also armed with sword and shield.  He was clean shaven, and his helmet was carved with the symbol, of an ibis bird. (5)

Logan cut down another one another of the soldiers, and was about to move to attack the militant wizard, when the new arrivals hurried to cut him off at the command of the third man They moved to flank with the aid of one of the remaining soldiers in this area.

“Left flank, Sergeant Sewell,” the man with the shield commanded his companion.

“Yes, Inquisitor Clerebold, “ the other replied. (6)

“_Hamanasemo_,” the wizard intoned, and Sergeant Sewell began to grow. Soon, he was over twelve feet tall, and his weapons had grown with him.

“No one can defeat the Impervious Ward,” the sergeant said, forcing Logan to frantically parry to avoid being cut open and crushed by the now gigantic sword.  

“Give yourselves up and you will not be harmed.  This I swear,” the Inquisitor called to Logan

“I’ll cut your balls off,” Logan replied.

Roland prayed again and this time both he and his summoned feline ally grew to twice their size as well. (7)  

The battle-mage pulled a scroll from her satchel and unrolling it chanted arcane words. _Snaseanda ammana thionscain Agon a abhaile leag_.” (8)

A mighty invisible force slammed into the enlarged lion and it let out a whimper and a snarl, but did it did not fall, or even slow down as it obeyed Roland’s next command.

The Bastite and his summoned ally headed for the battle-mage who had foolishly failed to take off high enough into the air again to not be reached by the great leaping cats.  She cried out in agony as their claws and teeth ripped into her flesh and grabbing on, Roland forced her back down to the ground, smashing her into a puddle of her own blood.

Again and again the frenzied thrusts of the Militant’s spear scraped across Kazrack’s breast plate to no effect, while Kazrack managed to get in a few thrusts with the pointed end of his pole-arm, even if he was unable to get his full strength behind the blows.   However, the four solders on their way over were being joined by a fifth, and penning in Kazrack by a clump of trees. 

Martin and Dorn had made it around the edge of the temple clearing, and were at the edge of the area where Ratchis and Kazrack fought the mercenaries.  An area that had smaller scrubbier trees and a great deal of twisting manzanita under foot.

“I hope you have something up your sleeve,” Dorn said, seeing Ratchis finally getting to his feet.

“I’m trying my best,” Martin replied defensively. “_Lentus!_

All five of the mercenaries jerked awkwardly as they moved with exaggerated slowness.  Kazrack easily knocked aside and otherwise avoided all five of their spear points as they arrived in his vicinity.   

“My faith is stronger than yours militant!  You will fall!” Kazrack turned, ignoring the soldiers, to thrust his pole-axe into an opening in the warrior-priest’s defense.  The militant seemed more concerned with skewering Kazrack than defending himself and gave no notice to the gouts of blood now running down his left leg.

Ratchis crawled away from the two soldiers near him and called to his goddess to grant him _Bull’s Strength_, and with a roar, side-stepped two spear thrusts as he got into close quarters and cleaved the top of one of the mercenary’s head off, helmet and all.  He also dealt a heavy blow against the shield of one of the sergeants who came running over. 

“Yield!” He cried at the half-orc, but there was little authority in his voice.

“_Somnus!_ Martin said as he threw sand in the general direction of the soldiers near Ratchis and the two spearmen fell right to sleep.  

“Why don’t you guys run away before we have to kill you?” Dorn asked one of the mercenaries as he moved in to support Kazrack.

Ratchis grunted his approval and ran over to join Kazrack.

The militant of Anhur thrust his spear again when he saw an opening, but again Kazrack’s armor turned the blow aside, and this time the shaft of the weapon slipped from his grasp and the butt-end slammed back into the priest’s eye with the force of punch. (9)

*End of Session #81*
--------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	Kazrack used _stone shape_ to make the hole.

(2)	They decided to get rid of the coin once they were outside because they wanted to be able to give each other instructions and hear if they were called to by the rest of the party.

(3)	*DM’s Note: * Originally, the evoker was only going to fry Dorn and Roland, but Ratchis just happened to move into direct line of it on his action, and I was describing the tree cracking and catching fire, I realized there was enough area of effect left to catch him at the very end. Dorn and Roland made their saves,  Ratchis didn’t.  Like weapons, we play with knockdown for certain spells.

(4)	*DM’s Note:* Roland has the Natural Spell feat.

(5)	The ibis bird is the holy animal of Thoth.

(6)	Paladins dedicated to Thoth are called “Inquisitors” and are most common in Neergaard and the Black Islands.  They follow and enforce a very strict interpretation of the responsible use of arcane (and to a lesser extent, divine) magic, based on the writings in the Thothian “Book of Truth”. Click here to read more about them.

(7)	*DM’s Note:* Roland cast _Cat Growth_ a limited variation of _Animal Growth_ that also works on him when he is in cat form.

(8)	This spell is Agon’s Hammer

(7)  *DM’s Note:* Ancellus suffered a critical fumble: _Reflex save (DC 18) or hit self, half damage._ – for the rest of Aquerra’s critical hits/fumble rules, click here.


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## el-remmen

Commentary on Sessions #79 through #81

These might have been the most frustrating sessions for me as a DM for the entire campaign.  I think there was a certain point there when I was not having very much fun waiting for the PCs to figure out what they were going to do, as they changed their minds several times.

The party being split up didn’t help at all.  I wasn’t sure what affect that would have, but I did hold out some small hope that split into two groups the individuals might argue less and be more decisive (which was kind of the result in Dybbuk Akvram – when Beorth, Jana and Martin went off to find the pendant of undead control and Thomas, and ended up fighting a bunch of bugbears and monks), but that was not the case. 

Anyway, I am getting ahead of myself.  This was a couple of sessions where I had to do a lot of “behind the scenes” thinking.  In other words, I had to think about what the Company of the Impervious Ward and the other people who were local were doing when the PCs were not around – which led me to have to carefully considered not only the personalities and motivations of those involved, but what resources they had available.

Roland and Ratchis went to go meet Gunthar, but I knew Gunthar wasn’t going to be showing up.  But not liking to meta-game things and tell them that the out of game reason I was keeping Gunthar out of the picture (at least for a while) was to allow Logan to assimilate more into the Keepers of the Gate without the contention of their conflict.  As I have mentioned in passing before, having Gunthar be a pain in the ass to the rest of the party was no trouble since the players all knew what they were getting in for when they allowed him to come along, but once I saw that Logan/Gunthar was going to be a recurring problem it did not seem fair to keep inflicting that on Logan’s player – so at the first opportunity that made sense I got rid of him.  I could not simply have him wander off or get killed off (unless that was how the dice fell) because he still had a role to play in the broader plot of the game.

However, when they ran into Tyluk, I was hoping that I might be getting their natural suspicions going and convince them to return to the temple earlier, or perhaps even try to follow him and see what he did next.  Tyluk who was Archet’s local snitch and busy-body was good at reading between the lines (high sense motive skill) and if you go back and look at the conversation in Session #79, he basically decided from Ratchis’ response that the watch-mage and the others were at the temple of Bast.  (It is important to note that even though he had never met the party before Tyluk knew something of them from local rumors and stories).  Knowing the Company of the Impervious Ward was looking for them, he made his way to Summit and told them his suspicions for some extra silver.

What he was doing when he did that was corroborating what Josef (of the Shepherds) had already told them, with the added benefit that if they hurried the party would be split up and might be easier to get without too bad of a fight.  And in case it was never clear in the story hour before, Josef was something of a weasel. Not a _bad_ guy, just with a certain about of self-interest and a lot of self-justifying.

And so, Inquisitor Clerebold decided to head for the temple right away without doing what he would usually do (i.e. send scouts to report back and make a plan), hoping that haste to catch the party split would prevail, but it would turn out to be a grave miscalculation.

Once at the temple and their quarry having escaped to the caverns beneath the catacombs, a simple _augury_ spell let them know that it was better to hold the temple and wait than to go after them.

And now a few words about those catacombs/caverns: Way back around Session #13 or 14, when the party first arrived in Summit, I first set out the bait of the villager disappearances. I put it all out there and let the players make their own connections between what was going on.  I expected the PCs to investigate the disappearances before trailing after whoever had caused the mayhem in the Sun’s Summit Inn (and ending up with the gnomes for a few months), which would have led them to fighting gnolls who were in the employ of the false priest of Bast in the local temple.  This was the adventure that I eventually had the Shepherds accomplish.  It was meant to have an old school dungeon delve sense, with areas of unaffiliated monsters in the caverns, but mostly places to camp and recoup before moving on to defeat the bad guys. Thus, I made the caverns very big.

Amid those caverns I placed the troglodyte priest.  I decided that when the Shepherds were there they never discovered him or his egg-chamber.  However, when the adventure was meant for the PCs to play, he was meant as a neutral NPC that might be won over for aid and information – as long as his tribe’s eggs weren’t messed with.  You see he was one of two male troglodytes that were the last of their line (trogs, like dwarves, being a dying race in Aquerra).  The other was Snorri, who is actually part of the Circle of the Thorn (the cloaked druid with the reptile feet the party met).  You see, before Jeremy died (the first time) and the Urn of Osiris was used, I had the idea for the Circle of the Thorn jotted down as notes (after having read the Dungeon adventure I yoinked them from), but wasn’t sure what role they would play.  I just knew I wanted a chance to have the PCs meet them, and I figured Snuchri (the trog priest) might provide a lead to that circle of druids.  Even if they didn’t use the info right away, they might eventually follow-up on it, especially if they found out that Glamorganna’s lair (the green dragon) was in that forest (which you might remember they found out in the Map Room under the Pit of Bones).

So, when Martin, Kazrack and Dorn ended up wandering around the caverns, looking for a way to escape, suddenly the nature of their possible meeting changed as soon as Kazrack started endangering the caverns (something Kazrack wouldn’t have even been capable of the first time I expected them to be there).  Even without the egg-chamber being nearby, Snuchri would have seen the creation of a new way in and out of the caves from the surface as a threat to his eggs and his habitat.

However, once Martin used his ability to scry to view the worship chamber and the egg chamber, I thought they might seek out the trog to negotiate with him (gotta use them ranks in diplomacy for something), but it didn’t happen that way.  Now, I am not saying they should have known to do this, or that it would have even been guaranteed that the troglodyte would have believed them or help them, but it was another option there.  Also, Snuchri being of a line of priests of Geb who served Hurgun in the distant past, he would have had lore about the Maze and about the so-called Key Room.

Actually, this was potentially a big “ah-ha!” Rat Bastard moment I was trying to set up from the beginning of the campaign.  I figured if the PCs did do the adventure with the false priest of Bast and worked so hard to keep him from opening the portal, and then later in the campaign realized that they had to _go_ through that very portal, it would have been one of those moments when they curse at me good-naturedly, and I love them for it, because then I know I did my job right.

It is times like these that I feel like I messed up as a DM and did not provide the clues clearly enough.  There is a fine line to be walked between being too obvious or too easy and being too obscure or having your red herrings be too attractive.

As for Logan’s player idea of hit and run tactics, I think that would have worked if they did it intelligently.  The three PCs on the outside were the best suited for that kind of thing, and there were several times they could have caught the Company of the Impervious Ward in a vulnerable position.  Again, this is another example of the “avoid and delay” attitude that was prevalent at the time, and what was causing me so much frustration because we spent three sessions (halfway through #79 thru halfway through #82) dealing with this situation.  But I don’t lay this just on the players, I think it has equally to do with my DM style and what they had come to expect as players and as characters because of that.  And as long as none of the players are complaining that they aren’t having fun, I will hold my tongue about it as I know things go in phases and eventually it will all be clicking for me once again.

Oh, and one other thing: About the NPCs.  I had Norena be gone for a while because I get tired of expending the energy of realistically playing NPCs without the conceit of just ignoring their being there (and anyway, some snotty player is always certain to mention them or ask about them).  When the assault on the temple happened, I had Razzle and Cordell go down the other hallway below to second set of catacombs that was mostly unconnected with those Kazrack and company were in.  And then I had Richard just disappear, but now that I think about it, what I should have done was use Richard’s “ethereal condition” work towards keeping the two halves of the party communicating with each other and as a means of keeping tabs on what the Impervious Ward was doing. Perhaps a plan of attack would happened more easily and quickly, but at the time I was thinking of Richard the Red as “another annoying NPC I have to run when I already have to worry about forty mercenaries” and not as “the solution to my problem about keeping the action going”.

But it all worked out okay, as you have seen from the first half of the fight, the Keepers of the Gate have things well in hand, and soon get back on track for entering Hurgun’s Maze and completing the campaign.


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## el-remmen

I have to say, losing all the reader comments really stinks. . .  

Threads always seem so cold when it is installment after installment with no break to consider what has happened. . .  :\


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #82 (part i)*

Ratchis made his way around the Militant of Anhur with his great sword over his head, hanging down loosely, waiting to strike.  Kazrack harried the warrior-priest from the other side, driving him further back from his spearmen who could not keep up as they were _slowed_.  Ancellus’ helmet rang with a downward blow from Ratchis that would have cut a normal man in two lengthwise.  However, the knights of Anhur do not fall so easily.  Kazrack felt the punch of the spear against the coif of his armor and then the point scraped the dwarf’s face and neck, sending out a gout of blood.  Dorn became visible as he cut one of the spearmen down, and quickly had another one reeling, before having to back off some and take in the three remaining men.  

Logan danced back again and again to keep from being flanked, but even the _enlarged_ sergeant’s parried blows sent tremors down his arm that made it feel as if it might shake off.  The other soldier kept moving as well, to keep Logan between them.  Finally, Logan dove into a tumble and through the sergeant’s legs, cutting him deep in the calf as he went by.  He brought his sword around for another blow, but the sergeant blocked it on his shield.  For a moment the sword was wedged there, and Logan jerked it free by dropping into a crouch, dodging his foe’s gigantic sword as it came around for his head.  Logan’s blade wobbled and crunched near the center and was now bent at an odd angle.(1)

“Balls!” Logan swore.  He only avoided the follow up blow because Roland’s great lion leapt into the fray.  A moment before Roland had licked the lion, calling to Bast to heal him, as Heriot the battle-mage continued to bleed out.

“Watch-mage! Call off your beasts that we may parlay!” Clerebold, Inquisitor of Thoth called to Martin, who watched the action from behind a tree.  It was not clear if the paladin saw Martin, however, or if he was simply calling out in hopes of being heard.

Roland and his lion faltered, as Martin stepped into the clear.  

“Throw down your weapons, then we’ll parley,” Kazrack called, holding back a blow against Ancellus.

Dorn moved back, keeping up his guard, cursing that he was now back in the range of the three remaining soldiers’ long spears.  

“Nobody try anything,” Dorn warned.

“Sir, we are ready to stand down when your men have,” Martin said.  Six more spearmen came around the southwestern side of the temple.

“Yeah, back off or the mage buys it,” Logan tumbled over to Heriot and held his bent sword to her neck.  She coughed and a bubble of blood appeared on her lips.  She was very pale.

Ratchis moved back as if to lower his sword, but Ancellus was wrapped up in the lust of battle and the honor it did his god.  He thrust forward with his spear and Ratchis was barely able to parry it away with his great sword.  The militant of Anhur spun around to knock Kazrack’s blows back, and continued, using the momentum of the spin to renew his attack on the half-orc.  

The paladin gestured for the spearmen to lower their spears.  The _enlarged_ sergeant lowered his sword, and the other soldiers followed suit.

“You had better tell this one to calm down or parley will be impossible,” Kazrack said.

“Stay away from him and his fit shall pass,” Clerebold advised.  “Or drop your weapons, he will not strike those he deems as defenseless even in his fury.”

“You drop your weapons first, we are certainly not surrendering to you,” Martin replied.

Not sure such a man would ever deem him defenseless while he yet stood, Ratchis rained down a series of vicious blows that bent and scored the militant’s armor, but still the Spear of Anhur would not fall.

“Fall! So I don’t have to kill you!” Ratchis swore, but he felt the shaft of the spear slap the side of his head again, and had to duck to avoid the accompanying thrust.

Roland nudged Logan out of the way and growled a prayer to stabilize Heriot.

Two more heavy blows and Ancellus fell, dead.

“Watch-mage! Come forward and make an oath to Thoth that if we surrender you will spare the lives of my men.  I give you my word we will make ourselves your honorable prisoners, or else we might as well meet our ends fighting.”

“I will,” Martin said, and he stepped forward, with his own hands open and in front of him.  He placed his hand on the holy symbol about the paladin’s neck and swore.

“We have made our oath. Now, you have until the count of five or I _will_ fell you,” Kazrack said, sternly.

“I will drop my sword,” Clerebold said, doing so. “But I was rather hoping we could come to an agreement without being stripped of arms; that is, depending on your sense of honor.”

“Yeah, and maybe if you’re real nice, maybe we’ll still let you arrest us,” Logan rolled his eyes, his sword still at the ready.

Ratchis looked up from casting Nephthys’ healing graces on himself.  “I will not approach closer than twenty feet until this thing is settled,” he said, his great sword biting into the bloody earth beside the corpse of Ancellus.

“I accept your surrender,” Martin the Green said, and he scooped up the paladin’s sword.  “But we will have to insist that your men surrender their weapons.  We would not want one of them to think to play the hero, when real heroes come to agreements with honor and abide by them.  Don’t you agree?”

Clerebold nodded dumbly.

“Have your men drop their spears and weapon belts and they will be collected and returned,” Martin said.  “We have no desire to leave you defenseless in this dangerous environment.”

One by one, the mercenaries dropped their weapons and lined up to enter the temple.  Kazrack applied divine healing to one of the bleeding soldiers, while Clerebold took care of others.  Some of the soldiers carefully carried the wounded in as well.

“I am sorry that we had to slay the militant,” Kazrack said, coming over to shake the hand of his foe.

“Waste no tears for that one,” Clerebold replied. “He died as he would have wanted, fighting, regardless of the reason.”

He entered the temple as well, followed by Kazrack and Dorn.

“Well, this is the better bargaining position,” Roland said, transforming back into his human self   “Shall we hold the wizard separately to assure their good behavior?”

“We are being honorable about this,” Martin replied.

“But you _are_ going to look through her spellbook while she’s out, right?” Roland winked, walking towards the temple doors.

“Um… I hadn’t thought of that,” Martin said. “I probably won’t have time to learn any new ones anyway.”

“I still think we can’t trust them,” Logan said.  “You know we’re only going to have to fight them again if we let them go. Might be best to just kill them now.”

“You must miss, Gunthar,” Ratchis said, angrily, as he went in as well. “Because you are in an awful hurry to take his place.”

Logan sneered.

The other mercenaries were rounded up.  There were a half-dozen exploring the edge of the rent in the ridge that could not climb up fast enough to join the fight before it was ended.  There were four more who had returned to Summit for news and supplies and arrived as the sun set to find themselves quickly taken.  Soon, the Keepers of the Gate were in the absurd position of guarding nearly four times their number.

“Should we lock them in the basement?” Kazrack asked, not sure what to do.

“Inquisitor Clerebold has given his word for him and his men and that is more than sufficient for me,” Martin replied.

“That, it certainly is. However,” the paladin cleared his throat.  “Now that I have done you a favor and surrendered to keep my men from being killed, would you please return the favor by explaining why it is than an obvious man of honor such as yourself would ignore the king’s calling and his duty to the kingdom he swore to help, both as a man and as representative of your Academy?”

Martin sighed.

“I shall endeavor to explain it all once we have worked out a promise that you will not seek to delay us,” Martin said.

“Our intention was never to delay you, or to keep you from any mission, but rather to come to the king to face charges.  No exceptions could be made.  I have no authority to accept excuses for the king, only the king can do that,” Clerebold said.  

“And now?” Kazrack asked.

“Now? Now, we have failed to arrest you.  We must return to Twelve Trolls to alert him and discover our next instructions, if he is even still willing to keep us in his employ,” the paladin explained. “And if not?  We may turn our eye to the conflict in the Black Islands.”

“On whose side?” Logan asked.

“The law says we must tolerate the snake-worshipers, but when they have turned against a king anointed by god and his people in order to carve their own kingdom?  There is no law that says I cannot relish in bringing them justice,” Clerebold’s eyes shone.  “Now that Ancellus is dead, there is no one’s vote to stop us.” (2)

“So you feel your duty is to return to the king and tell him what happened here?” Martin asked.

“And anything else I have learned,” the paladin replied, quite honestly.

The Keepers of the Gate went into the vestry to confer, leaving Dorn in the main chamber to watch over the small army by himself.  

“When is the beam of light supposed to hit?” Kazrack asked.

Martin looked at Ratchis. “Fuh… No, three days at sunrise,” the watch-mage said.

Ratchis counted on his fingers and nodded his agreement.

“We can’t keep them here and we can’t let them go, if the king is what we think he is, he might be able to get something ready and back here in that time,” Ratchis said.  (3)

“We can lock them in the basement,” Kazrack suggested again.

“Or kill them,” Logan suggested in a whisper.  “I know we are only going to have to fight these guys again.”

No one replied to the suggestion. 

Back in the main temple chamber a few moments later, Martin continued. “You understand that we cannot let you go and talk to the king.  At least not yet.  He might be able to muster some other force that would delay us, and we cannot be delayed.”

“What is it that is so important?” Clerebold asked.

Martin the Green began a brief overview of everything the Keepers of the Gate had done since leaving the Garvan Gnomes at the tail end of the previous winter.  He concentrated on how figuring out how to get into Hurgun’s Maze at the proper time was of the utmost importance.  The party could risk no chance of missing it.

“Even though not going to the Key Room might mean just that,” Richard the Red said, appearing at the door to the vestry.

“Where have you been?” Ratchis demanded.

“I told you before, Ratchis, once I have gone to the realm of shadow sometimes it takes me a long time to return,” Richard smiled as if not some afflicted by a horrible fate.

“We are not going to the Key Room,” Kazrack stated flatly.

“Wait!” Clerebold stood.  “I do not know who this person is, or what this ‘Key Room’ argument is about, but we have not yet come to binding terms of our compromise, and I would rather know the disposition of my men and myself before you move on to other matters.”

In the end, Martin and Clerebold were able to hammer out an agreement.  The Inquisitor of Thoth and his soldiers, along with Heriot of the Ironstaff, would wait at the temple of Bast for four days before leaving to return to Twelve Trolls.  However, Clerebold made no promise to withhold information from any other of his men who might be missing and return or other agents of the king that might arrive, or to keep _them_ from leaving.

With that settled, the party could get back to arguing about the Key Room as they been before the Company of the Impervious Ward had arrived.

As evening fell, Cordell of Thoth and Razzle Greyish returned, looking a little tired, but Razzle was immaculate and smiling as always.  They explained that they sought out another way out of the caverns they knew of, but that was many miles distant.

“The soldiers aren’t worth much, but I am sure we can get a lovely ransom on the wizardess and the paladin,” Razzle suggested.

“They are free to go in four days time,” Roland explained.

“Some people have no sense of tradition anymore,” Razzle replied, and tucking his plumed hat beneath his arm, he went down to the larder to find more wine.

“Anyway, I believe Bast’s words made it clearest,” Roland said, getting back to the argument.  “I believe we are making a grave error to not go to the Key Room.”

“We do not have time,” Ratchis said.

“We have reason to believe time will not be an issue wherever the Key Room is,” Logan said. “It moves slower there, or something?  I vote we go.  I mean, you know…_knowing_ where the door is, that doesn’t mean there isn’t a key.”

“I wish Chance were still here,” Martin sighed. “He could have settled this with a coin toss and we would have had faith in it.”

”I thought we had settled this foolishness?” Kazrack was exasperated.  “We cannot go.”

Martin nodded his agreement.

“And you Dorn?” Ratchis asked.

Dorn shook his head, unsure what to say.

“I notice that the two who most want to go are the two with the least experience with Richard the Red,” Ratchis said.

“We need a formal vote,” Kazrack said.  “All for going to Key Room?”

Dorn, Roland and Logan said, “Aye.”

“Those opposed?”

Martin and Kazrack said, “Nay.”

Ratchis looked around and then said, “Nay” as well.

“We are at an impasse,” Martin said.

“What do you think?” Kazrack turned to Clerebold. “You have overheard our discussions, what would you do?”

“I would seek out a temple of Thoth and do more research,” the paladin of Thoth responded.

“I only voted to go straight for the Maze and forgetting the Key Room because if we are going to fail, at least let it be actually getting into Hurgun’s Maze, not some side place that we may or may not need to go to.” Martin explained.

“And I only voted as I did because I wanted to insure a tie,” Ratchis said. “I want more time to think.”  

The arguing started up again, but soon Kazrack had everyone quiet down.

“I have an opinion that is unswayable by any means,” the dwarf said.  “I know where my faith lies and nothing anyone says can change that.”

“And I feel the same way about my position,” said Roland.

“Exactly, but we are all willing to accept the decision of the majority of the group, correct?” Kazrack asked.

Everyone nodded.

“Then I shall remove myself from further debate, as should Roland,” Kazrack said.  “Obviously, it is the choices the others make that matters in this case.”

“Well, I already said why I am making my decision, one chance to fail is better than two chances to fail,” Martin said.

“And I am certain we should go because I think we may find something in there that will give us a fighting chance while in the Maze,” Logan said. “If the one chance of failure is a big one, but you have an opportunity for it be two with smaller chances of failure, then you trade up.”

“So they will leave as well,” Kazrack said. “Leaving the undecideds to talk.”

“We’ll go,” Ratchis said, and he stalked out of the temple.  Dorn followed soon after.

Meanwhile, Kazrack went back down to the caverns and cast the runes once again.

“I apologize for the temerity to bother you again so soon,” Kazrack said to his gods.  “But the circumstances have changed  since the last time. Should we stop at the Key Room on the way to Maze, or go directly to the Maze?”

The rune-thrower moved the stones about some, but he did not feel the elation of enlightenment and saw no patterns in the runes.  All he felt a was a great sadness wash over him. (4) 

-----------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	*DM’s Note:* Logan’s second strike fumbled getting this result: _Hard Awkward Blow_, Roll weapon’s damage, double and add Strength bonus. Compare this to weapon’s hardness and hps to see if it breaks.

(2)	*DM’s Note:* Read more about _The Company of the Impervious Ward_ and see their stat blocks here.

(3)	The party found what they think is evidence the king might be of demonic origins as well.

(4)	*DM’s Note:* Kazrack’s player botched his rune-throwing skill roll.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #82 (part ii)*

Outside the night air was cold.  The sky to the east was clear, but the west was a wall of gray, black and shades of dark blue, where smoke still swirled out of the valley.  The taste of ashes in the back of their throats never seemed to go away.

Ratchis led Dorn up the ridge a ways until they were looking down over the great hole in the earth Kazrack had made.  It was a black void in the night.

“It’s the ‘rousing success’,” Dorn said.

Ratchis grunted his lack of understanding.

”Roland’s answer from his goddess.  It said ‘rousing success’,” Dorn reminded the Friar. “I like the sound of that.” (1)

“I fear that if we use this Key Room we will be opening the way for the other parties interested in the Maze’s power to get in,” Ratchis replied.  “Our enemies will be free to go into Hurgun’s Maze without our being there to stop them.”

“I though the door was hidden,” Dorn replied.

“It might be… It should be…,” Ratchis paused. “We don’t know.”

There was a long silence.

“What would it take me to convince you to forget the Key Room and try only for the Maze?” Ratchis asked his friend and cohort.

“If you told me to do so,” Dorn replied without a beat.

Ratchis let out a growling sigh.

 “…Or, it we take so long to decide that we have to go to the Maze before we run out of time,” Dorn appended.

“I will decide before that happens,” Ratchis said. “In fact, I have decided right now.” And with that he went back into the temple.

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

“So, you killed all its babies?” Roland was asking.  Kazrack was relaying to him the tale of the strange reptilian priest and his egg-chamber, while Martin did some more studying with Richard the Red.

“Yes,” Kazrack replied.

“You killed an entire generation?” Roland asked, forgetting to close his mouth when he was done speaking.

“The last generation, if what that thing said is to be believed,” Kazrack said, some regret in his voice.

“Well, that seems like a good reason to hate you and want to kill you,” Roland replied. 

“I think we should let it have you if it comes,” Logan smirked.  He had been standing nearby and overheard the tale.  Kazrack looked at the young Herman-lander and furrowed his brow.  He opened his mouth to speak, but Logan walked away.

“I am voting for the Key Room,” Ratchis announced. (2)  Kazrack’s shoulders sagged.

“That makes four against two, so that means we’re going,” Roland said.  “Now?”

“It’s been a long day.  Let’s get some rest. We start digging first thing in the morning,” Ratchis replied.


Balem, the 26th of Keent – 565 H.E.

“You are going on a trip on the day named for my goddess based on a divination of her wisdom accompanied by one of her chosen servants,” Roland said, almost singing with joy.  He took a long sip of wine. “This is a most auspicious occasion.”

“Just don’t drink too much of that, there’ll probably be fighting,” Logan said, taking his own swig of wine from the bottle he carried.

The Keepers of the Gate had awakened early to carefully discuss what spells were best to prepare, getting the opinion of Richard the Red, who suggested spells that protected from the elements and from negative energy.  The party also made Clerebold, and the now awakened Heriot of the Ironstaff, to re-iterate their promises on their own behalf and on that of their soldiers.

Richard the Red bid them farewell at the hatch down to the narrow hall that led to the partially buried portal room.

“One last thing,” he said.  “Where do we stand to see the light that will hit and show the way into Hurgun’s Maze?”

“How do you know about that?” Kazrack barked.

Richard shrugged.  “Kazrack, does it even matter at this point?”

“We are not telling you,” Ratchis said.

“But what if you don’t return?” Richard asked, a look of concern washing over his face. “Someone needs to go into this Maze before worse things than fire-breathing lizardmen come through the rifts in the valley.”

“Then you had better pray to Isis we’ll be back then,” Logan said, and with that he climbed down the shaft.  Roland laughed as he followed, and then went Kazrack.

”If this is some kind of trap or trick you are pulling Richard,” the dwarf said, stopping to look up at the rogue watch-mage as half of his body was down the hatch. “I will kill you.”

Richard winked at him and flashed his bright smile.

In the rectangular black-walled room, the party began to dig out the portal.  Kazrack used his miracle of _soften earth and stone_ to make the black earth into running rivers of sand that the others carted and swept away.

It was still nearly three hours of work to make all of the golden runes about the border of the black stone portal visible.  The stone within the wall was black and smooth.  The Keepers of the Gate could see dim reflections of themselves in the light of Dorn and Martin’s glowing medallions.

Martin the Green took the _prayer rug of the wayfarer_ (3) and wrapped a few unnecessary things in it and hid it beneath a pile of black earth.

Logan looked at him strangely.

”You can’t bring a pocket dimensional space into another pocket dimensional space,” Martin tried to explain.

“What happens?” asked Roland.

“Nothing good,” Martin replied.  “I only wish I could leave the _Book of Black Circles_ here.”

“And let Richard get it? No,” Kazrack said.

“Don’t worry, Kazrack, I’m sure if I tried to leave it behind it would try to subsume my will and make me into an evil necromancer cloaked in black and green flame and hurling blobs of enervating flaming death at everyone.”

Kazrack’s eyes opened wide.

“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen,” Ratchis said.

Martin examined the runes.  “I can’t tell what they mean, but I think I can pronounce them,” he said, looking at his copy of “Wards, Sigils and Runes” for reference. (4)  “I suspect that if I read them aloud the portal will open.”

Everyone stepped away from the portal.

“_Utkin Atarev Utaalk Utaalk Atarev Utkin,_,”  Martin said, and the golden runes flashed from right to left and back again, and the polished black stone suddenly rippled as if liquid.

“It is open?” Logan asked.  There was a sudden cacophony of screeches as six shadow forms emerged from the inky void and swooped down on the party.

“Oh no,” said Kazrack.

“Nephthys! If these creatures be the product of undeath send them away from us!” Ratchis cried out, clutching his belt of scored chain links.   Three of the shadows swooped away even as they were all coming down to attack Martin, disappearing back into the void of the portal.  One of them let out a chilling laugh and brushed a claw-like hand through Kazrack’s body.  The dwarf shuddered as he felt some of his body’s strength get sucked away.  Another swooped at Dorn, but missed.

The last shadow dove for Martin as if to tackle him, but instead it was sucked right into the watch-mage’s chest and disappeared.  Martin felt a tight coldness in his lungs.  Negative energy crackled along the outside of his body.

”Oh my!” Martin exclaimed.

“Oh great Queen Bast! Hear me!  Grant me the power to smite these creatures of evil and darkness!” Roland chanted, holding up his ornate cat’s eye he wore about his neck as he cast _holy smite_, slapping the holy symbol against his open palm.  

There was flash of golden light and one of the shadows seemed to explode, sending  droplets of inky blackness that faded into nothing in all directions.  One of them twisted in the air as in agony, even as the one that had disappeared into Martin oozed back out wailing in a disturbing child-like voice.  Most noticeably, Logan nearly dropped his sword as he flinched in pain. He moved over to Roland, and slammed his fist into the man’s ribs.  Logan was not much taller than Roland, but he had much broader shoulders.  In fact, Roland could almost be called dainty with his narrow hips, curly ringlets of hair on his head and babyface cheeks.

“Ow,” Roland complained, turning to look at Logan with shock and annoyance.

Ratchis called to Nephthys again and finally the two remaining shadows fled back into the black portal.

“What was that for?” Roland asked Logan.

“That spell, whatever it was, don’t cast it again,” Logan said.  “It hurt.” (5)

“Is it my fault your soul strays from a righteous path?” Roland replied, offended.  “And do not strike me again, if you care to keep your hands.”

Logan muttered under his breath.

“Just be careful when casting is all,” Ratchis said, but though his words were meant for Roland, he still looked at Logan.  “Logan is our ally and we would not want to jeopardize that.”

“He should apologize,” Roland said, folding his arms across his chest.

Ratchis looked to Logan.

“Very well. I apologize for striking you,” the young man said to the Bastite.

“Apology accepted,” Roland replied rather insincerely.

Meanwhile, Kazrack was approaching the inky void beyond the portal with a shovel in hand.

“Shall we enter?” he asked, looking back at the others.

“I know of no better option,” Martin the Green shrugged his shoulders.

Kazrack began to slide the head of the shovel into the portal when he suddenly felt a great suction threatening to yank the tool from his hands. He pulled it back with all his might, and looked to the others with worried eyes.

“I think we should all enter together, lest we are separated in the space between the worlds,” Martin said, ominously. 

The party grasped hands; Kazrack in the center, Logan and Ratchis at either end, and stepped through.

They felt their bodies get jerked forward and they pierced the veil of the portal. For a moment it was like being smothered in a damp sheet left out in winter, but they flowed through it porous weave, and then…

. . .there was nothing.  Not light, nor sensation of moving, not even a sense of a body.  Just cold eternal in all directions. An eternity passed and there was a square of light and the slightest sense of self in a rigid, frozen body tumbling in an inky void.  The square grew bigger until the light was all there was.  

Suddenly, the Keepers of the Gate felt themselves crash heavily onto cold stony ground. They gasped in harsh air and tried to disentangle themselves.

”I can’t see!” Roland cried.

“I am blind as well,” Kazrack said calmly.

“I can feel my eyes are in my head, but… I can’t see,” Dorn said.

“Magical darkness?” Logan asked.  “I can’t see either.”

“Everyone be careful, we are on some kind of stone plateau,” Ratchis said. “The sound of the wind makes me think there is a drop-off nearby.  Martin?  Are you there?”

Martin groaned. He felt a wave of cold nausea go through his body as he held his hand to his mouth.  The stench of rot floated heavily there for a moment and he gagged.  Over a dozen of the teeth on the right side of his mouth had fallen out.  Rotted.

“I’m blind, too,” he gasped.

“What if something attacks us?” Roland asked, a bit of panic in his voice.  “I know!”  He willed himself to change to his velvet black panther form, and though he still could not see, he was certain his advanced olfactory powers would comfort him, but he was wrong.  

The smells here were alien.  Though he heard the lapping of water against a shore, he could not smell the sea, rather vinegar, and the air had the faintest smell of death wrapped in the taste of clean snow.  He shivered.

“Everyone be quiet!” Ratchis said, untangling from the others to stand. “We need to be quiet and listen, in case something does sneak up on us. But we also need to remain still, so none of us accidentally falls off a cliff to their deaths.  Just stand where you are…”

“The ledge it over here,” Logan said, from the right.  “I crawled over and found it.  Don’t come in my direction, and… Ow! There are some sharp rocks, so be careful.”

The rest of the Keepers of the Gate slowly stood.

“Shall I try to dispel the blindness?” Kazrack whispered.

“Let us wait,” Martin finally spoke again.  “This may be a side-effect of passing between planes.  It may pass.  Though we should consider in the meantime what we are going to do if we cannot get our vision to return.”

“Oh no!” Kazrack exclaimed.

“What is it?” Ratchis hissed.

“Something is not right,” Kazrack sounded almost scared.  “It is as if my gods were further away from me.  None of the most powerful spells I can cast with the aid of my holy progenitors… I mean, they are gone.  I cannot access them!”

Ratchis grunted as he realized the same thing about the miracles he had prepared.  Roland growled his dismay. (6)

“Martin?” Ratchis asked.

“My prepared spells seem fine,” Martin said.  “It must be the nature of this plane and its relative position to the realm of your gods.”

“That makes no sense!” Kazrack said. “The gods of my people are everywhere my people are.  They see all we do.”

“That may be the case, Kazrack,” Ratchis said. “But perhaps your gods and ours have never had a reason to exert their power in this place before.”

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Kazrack said.  “We are blind and now less prepared.  What do you suppose will happen next?”

There was a long silence.  There was only the sound of the wind and the distant water.

Slowly, the blackness of their vision began to turn gray and then there were smudges of muted color, and finally their vision returned.

“Thank Natan-ahb,” Kazrack sighed.

The Keepers of the Gate were awed by what they saw.  They were upon a round flat plateau shaved near the top of a jagged piece of black rock that rose out of a green and white luminescent sea.  The sea stretched out in every direction, and they could see far as the jagged island they stood upon was nearly half a mile from the water’s surface.  Above them was a dark purple sky, with two muted moons of green and yellow.  There was a path of narrow steps winding down to an ornate stone bridge that led to the gate of the hexagonal city below them.  The city was surrounded by thick and tall walls of white stone, checkered with black in places; the point of where the walls were joined each had a tall tower emerging from it.  The city itself was dark, but the pale light of the strange moons revealed an immense pyramid in its center; nearly a sixth of the entire city in size.  The city itself was probably over a third of a mile wide at its broadest.  It rose out of the green and white sea on bedrock of slate gray speckled with a lighter purple.  

“There’s something familiar about this place,” Dorn said, noting a squat black four-sided obelisk about four feet high, covered in silver runes similar to the gold ones they had seen back in the portal room.

Martin the Green got out his journal began to draw a quick map of what he saw.  

“This doesn’t look like much of a key room. So are we going down there?” Logan asked, pointing to the city.

“We need a better view first,” Martin said, and putting aside his journal he began the long process of casting _arcane eye_.

The watch-mage first sent the invisible eye up and over the top of the stone they were on, to follow a narrow path of steps that led up and around to the other side.  There, he saw a short wharf that stuck out from the island hundreds of feet above the breaking surface of the  water below.  The wharf itself was made of some strange blue wood, and the pylons were tied with red and gold rope, but everything looked old and shabby.

Martin told the others what he saw, and then he sent the eye down towards the city gates. He could see a two-story gatehouse as the eye got closer.  It had double doors of thick metal, each door inscribed with a rune in the same style of the others they had seen.  There was also a handwritten sign posted on the left door.  It was sloppily written in smeared ink, and the letters were indecipherable.  Martin sent the _arcane eye_ over the gatehouse, but the magical projection winked out existence as it cross the perimeter.

Martin told his companions what happened.

With no other options, the Keepers of the Gate made their way down to the gates of the strange city. The stone bridge reminded all, but Logan and Roland, of the bridge where they had met Dorn (7). It was of similar construction, though the stone itself had different qualities, and this bridge was much smaller.  It was also in better repair.

Martin the Green cast _comprehend languages_ and read the sign aloud. “Travelers to Topaline, prepare a toll or turn away.  If you have no gold, bother me not! Twenty-five pieces each thrown over the left side.  That’s my price.” (8)

“Off the side of the bridge?” Kazrack said.  He walked over to the door and went to knock on it.

“Wait!” Martin said, holding up his hand. “The runes are the door are an abjuration. Don’t touch them.”

“We don’t have twenty-fives pieces of gold,” Ratchis said.  “Not even for one of us.  We would be hard-pressed to get twenty-five silver for each of us.”

“We have to try,” Martin said.

“We can just try silver and see what happens,” Logan said.  “They could just mean gold in the general sense of ‘something of value’.  I mean, everyone knows a ‘piece’ means silver.” (9)

“Yes, I shall pay the toll and go in and reason with whomever is within and negotiate passage for the rest of you,” Kazrack pulled twenty-five silver obleks from a pouch and dropped them over the side of the bridge as close to the gatehouse as possible.  Logan leaned over to watch the silver coins twinkle in the luminescence of the strange sea as they tumbled down.  Yet, they had not fallen more than twenty feet when they disappeared in flash.

There was click as the doors unlocked and slowly swung open.  Beyond was a dark twenty foot wide passage to another set of double doors.

Kazrack stepped in.

*End of Session #82*

-----------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	Roland cast _divination_ in Session #79.

(2)	*DM’s Note:* Ratchis’ player explained later that he felt split about 50/50 in the decision, and was only going against the Key Room because it seemed like the pragmatic choice based on the limited information.  However, once Dorn said to him that he would change his vote if Ratchis told him to do so, the Friar of Nephthys decided, he would rather give up his own divided position on the subject than force someone else to change their choice.
(3)	The party found this magical item in the hooked horrors’ nest as they traveled underground to arrive at Nikar. (Session #67)
(4)	Martin received this rare and handy tome as an Isis’ Day gift from Richard the Red. (Session #38)
(5)	*DM’s Note:* Since Logan is not of good alignment he suffered half the normal effects of the _holy smite_.

(6)	*DM’s Note:* All priests lose access to their highest level spells while on this plane.  However, when preparing spells while here, they can use their highest level slots to prepare lower level spells. Arcane magic is unaffected, but in general the rules regarding how certain spells work may not apply in a pocket plane.

(7)	See session #64

(8)	*DM’s Note:* This marks the beginning of an adaptation of “Beyond the Glittering Veil…” by Steven Kurtz from Dungeon #31.

(9)	Remember, most of Aquerra uses a silver standard.


----------



## el-remmen

One of the reasons re-posting all of these is taking so long is because I am taking this opportunity to read them all over again and make some fixes, since the "live edits" are lost.

Session #83 is coming up. . .


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #83*

_*Day One in the Pocket Dimensional Realm of Topaline*_ (1)

Kazrack turned and looked at the others.

“The doors are still open,” he said. “Might as well come.”

Ratchis and Roland stepped in warily, followed by Dorn and Martin.  Logan took up the rear.  They were in an entrance hall created by the two sets of doors, the gatehouse towers and the upper story of the gatehouse.  The inner doors were closed with a thick wooden bar on this side.

There was metal grate above them, and another below their feet, Logan noticed tiny niches along the walls on each side.  He stopped and backed up.  

“Maybe we shouldn’t go in here,” Logan said.

Ratchis was in the middle of checking the inner doors for magic and detecting none, he shrugged his shoulders and reached to lift the bar.

”Wait!” Logan leapt forward. “Let me check for traps!”  

But it was too late, the half-orc’s arms bulged as he hefted the heavy bar off its metal rungs and suddenly the entire entrance way was plunged in darkness.

A voice boomed down from above them, heard through the doors now obscured by the darkness.

”WHO ENTERS THE CITY OF THE ANCIENT MYSTICS?” it asked in a language only Martin could understand due to his spell.

“What did it say?” Kazrack asked.

“What language is that?” Roland asked.

“We should all back out of here,” said Logan.

“We are called the Keepers of the Gate!” Martin the Green called back to the voice.  “Do you speak common?”

”WE SPEAK WHATEVER TONGUE IS NEEDED TO ACCOMPLISH OUR TASK,” the voice said.  “THE CITY IS CLOSED TO VISITORS. GO!”

“We are on a quest for Hurgun of the Stone and seek the Key Room to his Maze,” Martin replied, taking no heed to the command.

“VERY WELL. STEP FORWARD WHERE WE MAY SEE YOU,” the booming voice said, and they heard the double doors before them click open.  Ratchis pushed on the doors and stepped out of the magical darkness and out in the dim light of the city.  They were in a walled in courtyard behind the gatehouse, with yet another set of gates that led into the city-proper itself.  The light here was strange, as only the luminescence of the ocean and dim moons and stars above provided light, creating bizarre shadows on the walls.  The rest of the Keepers of the Gate followed, spilling into the courtyard and turning to look up at the spot the voice had seemed to be coming from.

On the battlements above the gatehouse stood a black-robed skeletal figure wearing a golden circlet on his bleached skull.  Burning read pin-points of light shone in its eye sockets.  It lifted a skeletal hand.

“WE SAID NO VISITORS, ESPECIALLY NOT THOSE THAT DO NOT PAY THE TOLL!” And with that, the skeleton threw the twenty-five silver pieces Kazrack had paid, scattering them into the courtyard with disgust.

Kazrack cased _Magic Circle against Evil_ and moved over to cover Martin the Green in its area of effect.  

“We should try to find a way up!” Ratchis said, hurrying for a door on the backside of the left gatehouse tower.  He threw open the door and bellowed for the others to follow him.  Without hesitating Martin hurried through.  Logan and Roland were right behind him.

“FLESH BE DUST!” the skeletal guardian cried, and suddenly where Kazrack had been  moving to join his friends, there was nothing.  Dorn shook his head feeling the slightest pinpricks of dust on his face.  His jaw dropped to his chest.

“Kazrack’s been disintegrated!” Logan cried looking back.

“You’ll pay for that!” Roland shook his fist at their foe as he ducked into the gatehouse.

“Hurry up, Dorn!” Ratchis cried to his cohort and then continued into the gatehouse and up the stairs to the upper level. Dorn came out of his shock, still looking at the place where Kazrack had been standing less than a moment before.  He made to follow the others, but cried out as there was a ‘pop’ in the air above him and a strange creature pounced down clawing at him with hands and feet at once. “Noggle, noggle!  Noggle noggle noggle!” It cried wildly.

The creature was small, with a skinny body almost like a child’s, but with an over-sized head and big dewy black eyes and broad deformed ears.  It had spindly limbs with over-sized hands and feet that ended in yellowed claws.  Its skin was the sickly pink of a baby mouse, but covered in weeping sores.

“Noggle, noggle!” another of these creatures appeared above Roland and began to claw at him as well, getting tangled up in the Bastite’s arms.

“Noggle, noggle!” and another two appeared above Ratchis, but the half-orc beat off their attacks, roaring.  Martin hurried up the stairs, dagger in hand and stabbed at the creatures to little affect.

“CUT YOUR LOSSES AND FLEE NOW!  THERE CAN BE NO VICTORY AGAINST US,” the skeletal guardian boasted.

Martin cried out as one of the strange creatures on Ratchis leapt at him clawing him deeply with all four of its claws.   Logan tumbled past Roland to try to get a good shot on the creature attacking the Bastite, but suddenly – ‘Pop! Pop!’ – that one and the one harrying Dorn were gone.  They just disappeared.   Dorn hurried into the gatehouse.

Ratchis roared with fury as he cut at the bizarre beings with his great sword.  He cut one deep and it spurted black oily blood on the stone floor, screeching.  It backed off, and the one fighting Martin moved to avoid a follow-up blow from the half-orc.  It made a  face like it was straining in the outhouse, and suddenly its pores and sores plopped wide open making a sick sucking sound and black viscous liquid, not unlike the blood of its companions, oozed out and dripped off its body, leaving a stain on the floor and wall.

_Lentus!_ Martin chanted, and two of the creatures’ movements became exaggeratedly slow.

Soon everyone was on the second floor fighting the three creatures.  Roland had transformed into a panther once again and came bounding into the room. He slipped on the oily substance on the floor and nearly careened into Ratchis.  Martin was finding that even when his dagger blows landed, the rubbery consistency of the creatures’ pink skin deflected all but the strongest of blows.  Roland was soon having the same troubles with his claws.

“What the hell are these things?” Logan said, as the three creatures appeared and re-appeared in front, behind, above, all the while screeching, “Noggle! Noggle, noggle! Boo!”   He was having better luck with his sword blows, but even these seemed to do less damage than they normally would. (2)

“Nephthys! Bless my blade that we might defeat these pestering creatures!” Ratchis cried, stepping back to cast _magic weapon_ on his masterwork greatsword.

Martin scored a deep stab on one of the little monsters and ‘pop’, it disappeared, clutching its chest where the dagger had punctured him.

“That was for Kazrack!” Martin cried.

Roland managed to grasp one of the creatures in his jaws and was in the process of rending it with all four of his claws at once when, ‘pop’ it disappeared.  The panther stuck out his tongue and opened and closed his mouth trying to get rid of the nasty taste of the creature.

It reappeared at the top of the stairs to the battlements, and Roland took off after it, not seeing the patch of the black oil that had been left on the stairs during the confusion of the battle.  He slipped again, slamming his head on a stair and sliding halfway back down.

“Nog! Nog! Na-Nog! Nog! Noggle, noggle!” the creature taunted, and leapt backwards through the trapdoor, letting it shut.

Logan took a moment to look around.  This area of the gatehouse was some kind of gallery that stretched across over the entranceway the party had come through to enter the courtyard.  He guessed the ornate, but now moth-eaten rug on the floor covered a grate on the floor, for a now defunct kiln for boiling oil was built into the right hand wall.  He could see with his _Goggles of Darkvision_ that there was another set of stairs up on in the other gatehouse tower that this gallery connected to, and he headed that way. 

“They are probably waiting at the top of those stairs,” Logan said, pointing to where Roland was getting back on his four feet. “You keep their attention there and I will come around from this way.”

 Martin the Green followed Logan, activating the _rune of light_ on the medallion about his neck.

“You go with Ratchis,” Martin said.  “I want to get the drop on them with a spell.”

Logan shrugged and went back down the stair to join Ratchis.

Ratchis crept up the stairs, getting around Roland and avoiding the oily patch.  He cast _bull’s strength_ on himself and then burst through the trapdoor.  But there were no creatures there.  Instead he saw three bounding, two amusingly slowly, towards the other trapdoor which was now being opened by Martin. 

The watch-mage was startled by the sudden approach of the monsters, but managed to cast a spell, sending a _flame arrow_ point blank into the chest of the closest one.  The flames seemed to snuff out too quickly as it struck the thing, and seemed to have no effect.

Ratchis came running to Martin’s aid.  “Noggle!” One of the monsters cried and disappeared.   Logan was just beginning to come up to the battlements by the left side trapdoor when it appeared above him and clawed at his viciously.  

“Balls!” Logan swore swinging wildly. 

Dorn who was at the top of the stairs came back down to help Logan.

The fourth of the monsters appeared above Ratchis, but the half-orc cut the head from it with one sharp blow.  Roland bound across the battlements and leapt on one pinning it to the floor with his jaws, grimacing at their horrid taste.  ‘Pop!’  It disappeared.

The other screeched as Ratchis drove his great sword through its trunk.  It hung lifelessly from the blade and Ratchis flung it over the side.  

Logan followed Dorn up onto the battlements. 

“We were fighting one, but it got away,” Dorn said.

“It was bleeding that black oily sh*t all over though,” Logan added. “It was near dead.”

There was no sign of the robed skeleton up on the gatehouse roof, but they could look out on the dark city from up here.  There was still no sign of life in the city, no lights or sounds.  Ratchis thought he saw shadows skating across a patch of dull moonlight, but he could not be sure.  What they could see most clearly were broad streets that lead around the perimeter of the city, with other broad streets, like spokes, leading from them and towards the pyramid.  One of these penetrating streets began no more than one hundred feet away from the courtyard gate.

“How shall we discover the location of the Key Room in a place so big?” Martin asked.

“Could it be here in the gatehouse somewhere?” Logan asked.  “You know… Key… gate…”

“I doubt it,” Martin replied.  Ratchis agreed.

“We should make for the pyramid,” The half-orc said in his scratchy voice.

“Pyramids mean undead,” Martin said.

Ratchis nodded.  

“But I think we knew that already,” Logan smirked.

“What about Kazrack?” Dorn asked.

“Kazrack is dead,” Ratchis said.  “We have no time to mourn him now.”

“And people say _I’m_ cold,” Logan quipped.

“He would have wanted us to go on and not endanger our mission,” Ratchis replied.

The Keepers of the Gate made their way back down to the courtyard.  They took a closer look at the gallery on the second floor of the gatehouse and were disturbed to discover the true nature of the sculptures they had seen out of the corner of their eyes before.  The statues were of people with their bodies twisted into positions of excruciating pain, and the looks on their faces reinforced this.  But the pieces were only partially stone, they seemed to be grafted in part to preserved living flesh, and in other places stripped away to raw bone.  The most disturbing one was of a man all of stone with his chest cut open, but his spine, lungs and heart were blackened flesh.  

At the courtyard gate out to the street they debated if the direct route was best, or if it might be better to skirt the sides and come around to the pyramid some other way.  Suddenly, they heard a cry above them as a stout figure came falling out of the darkness, slamming into the cobblestone courtyard, painfully.

Kazrack sat up, but was so stunned he slumped over again.

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

Kazrack was looking up at the robed skeletal figure when all of a sudden there was a flash of white light and a sensation like his bowels were turning inside out.  He found himself in a ten foot by ten foot cell. It had stone walls, except for one which was naught but the bars of the cell.  Kazrack pressed his face between the bars to see beyond as best he could.  There was a narrow hall running to the left and right, and he could see a door  across the way to the left that he hoped led out of this place.

Calling to Natan-ahb, Kazrack softened the stone of the wall where it met the bars and was soon able to push his way through, bending some of the bars in the process.  He did not make as little noise as he hoped, but he at least he was free.  Two shoves from his shoulder and the door burst open to a short hall that led to a wider marble chamber set up with stone biers and a variety of tools and equipment.  The place was lit by many braziers, and there was a kiln of some sort against the left hand wall, along with piles of clay.  

Suddenly two of the twisted child-like creatures appeared above him.  “Noggle, noggle!” they cried clawing at him.  However, Kazrack’s armor was too tough for them, and he only took superficial wounds. He cleaved one of them open, and it fell against a tray of cutting tools and sent them scattering across the marble floor.  It did not get back up.

“I know not what manner of creatures you be, but I shall kill you all if you do not let me go!” Kazrack yelled.

The other one disappeared with a ‘pop’.

A small door in the right side wall opened and through it crouched the skeletal guardian. (3)

“YOU DARE TRY TO ESCAPE MY STUDIO?” It said. Its jaw did not move when it spoke.  Instead, the voice just projected from it, making the hair rise on the back of Kazrack’s neck.

“Foul undead abomination!” Kazrack cried, grabbing the bag of rune-stones about his neck. “In the name of the Lords and Lady of Mountain, be gone!”

The skeleton gave a weak laugh.  “YOUR MEASLY GODS HAVE NO POWER HERE, EARTH-AZER.”

“If my faith is too weak to banish you, then let my strength of arms do it instead,” Kazrack said.  He lowered his head and charged at the skeleton.

“_Sagitta Magicus!_ the thing chanted in whisper and three beams of light slammed into Kazrack’s chest, but he did not slow down.  The dwarf thrust his halberd into the skeletal figure driving it back, and then followed it up with a devastating chop to the hip that knocked the thing down.

Kazrack stepped back, realizing that while his halberd was doing okay, a blunt weapon would be that much better, so he strapped the pole-axe to his back and drew his flail.  The robed figured staggered to its feet, and before Kazrack could close again to try to finish it, it raised a hand and spoke a word, and there was another flash of white light.

Kazrack looked down to see the courtyard sixty feet below him.

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

“Eyes of Isis! Kazrack?” Martin swore.

“Kazrack! What happened?” Ratchis asked, hurrying over to him 

Kazrack sat up and then slowly stood.  He did his best to describe his ordeal.

“We thought you were disintegrated,” Logan said.

“Ah, the thing tried, but was thwarted by the heartiness of the dwarven people,” Kazrack replied.

“So, you believe dwarven magic resistance teleported you rather than have you disintegrated?” Martin asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“It seems like that is what happened,” Kazrack nodded in reply.  “But I leave the technical arcane bit to those of your dubious profession.”

Martin sighed in response.

Ratchis told Kazrack their plan to go up the main street to the pyramid, but Kazrack was not sure that was wise and wanted to see the layout of the city himself from the gatehouse battlement.  After a brief argument, they decided to all go back into the gatehouse and up to the roof.  However, on the way up there they were harassed by the three of the strange creatures again.

One of them sliced open Dorn’s brow and sent blood into his eyes, blinding him.  Kazrack scored a deep wound on one and it disappeared, only to reappear beside Roland.  Still in panther-form, the Bastite bit deep into its leg nearly ripping it off.  “Noggle!” the thing squealed and disappeared.

Ratchis whipped around to cut at one clawing down his back and with a ‘pop’ it disappeared and reappeared behind him again.  Again the half-orc swung around and sent it flying against the wall with the weight of his sword blow.  The thing’s head wavered back and forth as if I were dizzy and then ‘pop’, it disappeared.

Martin helped Dorn wash the blood from his eyes.

Up on the battlements, they looked out on the city the best they could.  The two moons seemed to be setting and the luminescence of the ocean was dimming, making it hard to see.  

”It is better we get there as quickly as possible than wander darker side streets and perhaps get lost or more easily ambushed,” Ratchis said.

“If there are undead shadows in this city I wonder why they have not come here yet?  In the silence of this place, it is certain our voices and the sound of combat carries,” Kazrack wondered aloud. “Perhaps there is something about this place that keeps them at bay.”

“Perhaps,” Martin replied.

The Keepers of the Gate went back down to the courtyard, and Ratchis made to open the gate into the city, and then stopped.

“Hey Logan?  Remember what you said before about checking doors?” Ratchis asked the young Herman-lander. “Wanna check this one?”

*End of Session #83* (4)
---------------------------
*Notes:*
(1) The flow of time in this pocket dimension was not clear to the Keeper’s of  the Gate.

(2) *DM’s Note:* These creatures had DR 5/blunt.

(3) *DM’s Note:* Gantus the Crypt Thing is my conversion + unique flavor of the 1E Fiend Folio monster.

(4) *DM’s Note:* This session ended early for some reason. I think it might have been because someone had missed the session ( Logan’s player?) and someone else had to leave early, thus invoking our ‘cannot play with 2 or more people missing’ rule.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #84 (part 1)*

They sprinted across the broad boulevard and down the thoroughfare that led to the pyramid and the center of the city.  They left the gate behind.  There had been no trap that Logan’s skill could find, and none was set off.  Ratchis took the lead, with Logan on his heels, while Roland lagged behind keeping Kazrack company.  Martin and Dorn were in the middle ranks.

The streets were stained white stone, yellowed and gray in many places, and it were scored with branching cracks that varied in width.  In some places, holes two and three feet deep, and many more feet wide had formed.  The buildings to each side were made of similar material, though they seemed grayer than the street itself.  The lower floors of these structures were built partially into the ground and the entrance ways were at the bottom of narrow shadowy alleys.  Their style reminded Ratchis of the bizarre giants’ homes he had seen when the Keepers of the Gate were returning from Nikar. (1)  However, the upper floors were built with great open balconies, but many of these were cracked and did not look safe to walk on or under.  The buildings were built closely packed, creating narrow serpentine stepped alleys that descended into an abyss of shadow.

The lights of the medallions about Martin and Dorn’s necks bounced as they hustled, keeping a rapid pace punctuated by Ratchis’ barks.  The street was about one hundred and twenty feet wide and growing darker by the moment.  The luminescence of the ocean was nearly gone, and its residual light barely bled over the tops of the buildings.

They had barely made it a quarter of the way to the pyramid when a figure came shambling out one of the narrow alleys on the left.  It was tall and lanky, and long natty hair shook in the cold air.

“Zombies!” Ratchis warned.

“We should just hustle past these,” Kazrack said.  “They are slow and pose no real threat if we just avoid them.”

Another tall shambling figure appeared from the left, and six more from the right, and three more were closing off retreat from the rear.

“Uh, oh,” Martin said, pointed up.  “Look! The roof!”

There were five more of the figures on the roof of one of the buildings to the left.  They held spears high over their heads, and a moment later, a rain of spears came down around the Keepers of the Gate.  Ratchis felt a spear bite his hip.  

“Keep moving!” Ratchis roared.  “Don’t slow down!”

The zombies on the right came leaping at them, spears outstretched, displaying a speed and coordination none in the group had ever seen in a zombie..  They had pale green skin and solid yellow eyes, and sinewy bodies; most of them were over six feet tall.  They wore the tattered remains of white togas, though some wore nothing at all.

Logan stepped back and fired arrows at the rushing zombies, but even those that struck them through the neck or eye seemed to do little good. (2)

“_Lentus!_ Martin chanted and the charging undead jerked awkwardly, as if suddenly they had been transformed into the kind of zombies the Keepers of the Gate were used to.

The ones on roof began to climb down off the buildings head first, looking like desiccated grasshoppers.

“That’s not right,” Logan said, putting away his bow and drawing his sword.  The pace of the party was slowing now.  

Roland called for Bast’s _divine power_, and Kazrack grabbed his bag of rune-stones and channeled the pure power of the divine in wave, calling out in dwarven, “Natan-ahb! Do not forsake me, even though I feel that I am farther from you than I have ever been!”

Tears filled his eyes as nothing happened.  In the distance they though the heard the echo of a shrill laugh.

“Get behind me, Martin,” the dwarf said, taking a moment to wipe his eyes before bringing his halberd to bear.   The watch-mage obeyed, as Ratchis and Logan slowed their pace to form a line with Kazrack and Dorn, to meet the coming zombies.  The watch-mage reached into his _bag of tricks_, but there was no fuzzy ball within.  He looked in, shocked.

“My bag of animals does not function here!” Martin cried in dismay.

Putting the bag away, he began to scoop up some of the loose chunks of the street and hurl them over his companions’ heads at the zombies.

Roland ripped at one of the ones that came up from behind, braving through the disgusting taste of undead flesh as he chomped and clawed it to pieces.  He soon moved on to another, using his great speed to catch back up with the others when he fell behind.

Zombies were swarming in from the left, and Dorn soon found himself surrounded on three sides, slashing futilely as the zombies slammed him over and over with their calcified fists.  The cohort withdrew allowing Ratchis to step up and cleave the head off one and send another to the ground.

“Turn these things!” Ratchis barked at Kazrack.   The laughter was on the air again and it seemed to be closer and above them, hidden in the darkness of the night.

“Natan-ahb! If you deem me worthy reach out to this far realm and aid me!” Kazrack called to his god, but again his faith was short of the task. (3)

“Oh, no!” Dorn cried looking up, and then he stumbled back as the fist of zombie caught him in the chin and another slammed him in the ribs.  “Shadows! Shadows!”

Dorn fell back again and Ratchis twirled into his position, cleaving a zombie nearly in two by brute strength alone, his great sword tearing through dead flesh at an angle.  A vaguely humanoid shadow came diving out of the night, swooping at Dorn. He felt the cold touch and the strength of his limbs seemed sapped.

The battle was chaos, and the Keepers of the Gate lost any momentum they had towards the pyramid.  A second shadow kept Kazrack busy, so the dwarf put away his halberd and drew his flail.  Logan was separated from the others and fighting three zombies on his own, and Ratchis and Dorn were back to back, fighting to keep from getting flanked.  The first shadow came back for another pass shrieking like a grieving woman, but this time Dorn ducked.  Martin the Green kept flinging stones at zombies, helping Roland who was trying to keep them away from Kazrack so the dwarf could deal with the shadow.  The Bastite tore through them, but it still did not seem fast enough against the great number of them.

“This place is a Ra-damned city of the dead!” Logan cursed, jerking his sword out of the neck of one of the zombies and tumbling about it to avoid the spear-thrust of another.

“Richard the Red knew he was sending us here!” Kazrack accused.  “I knew this was a bad idea!”  And with that he struck home with his flail and the shadow shrieked and retreated, disappearing into the darkness for moment only to come around for another attack.

Dorn was not so lucky and twice more he felt the strength-sapping cold of the shadow’s touch.

“Dorn!” Ratchis cried.  The two of them had become separated again, and the warrior had fallen over punch-drunk from the many blows he suffered.  Two of the zombies were dragging his seizing form off towards one of the alleys.  The half-orc plowed past two of the zombies and sliced a hunk of oozing darkness from the shadow.  It hurled itself through the air away from Ratchis and towards Kazrack, and the dwarf felt the satisfying catch of his flail in the essence of the incorporeal undead that told him the magic of his weapon had damaged it.   It croaked and then faded away into nothing.

Ratchis cut the arm from one of the zombies dragging Dorn, and Roland leapt upon the other driving it back as the panther ripped the desiccated veins and cracking sinew in the thing’s neck.  But still more zombies came pressing in on the two priests with their spears.  They acted with intelligence and moved to flank and trip the adventurers.  They went for the weakest opponents, trying to separate the others from Dorn.

“Ratchis!” Kazrack cried, feeling the cold touch of the other shadow again.  The flail began to feel heavy in his hands.  The shadow flew at Martin but the watch-mage’s _mage armor_ kept the incorporeal thing from getting at him.  “Ratchis, only your weapon can defeat that shadow!  I grow too weak.” (4)

The friar of Nephthys spun around to survey the situation, as five of the zombies, each as strong as Kazrack or Ratchis slammed at him.  Roland had healed Dorn and was dragging him towards Martin, to have the watch-mage watch over him.  Logan was struggling against three zombies, though two were destroyed at his feet, and Kazrack kept two at bay as the shadow was swooping down for another attack.

“I will fall if I do not dispatch these zombies first!” the half-orc said to his companion.

“Oof!” Ratchis tasted blood in the back of his mouth as he felt a spear head enter his lower back. He nearly fell to his knees, but managed to spin around and drop the zombie who had dealt the blow.  However, this left him open and he felt the bite of two more spears and the heavy blows of zombie fists as he went down.

“Roland! Cure D’nar!” Kazrack said, crushing the kneecap of a zombie and finishing it off with a blow to the head as it went down.  But the dwarf shuddered again, sliding to the cold stone ground as he felt the touch of the shadow again. 

“Natan-ahb, please hear me though my voice is as weak as my body and though I am far from the First Mountain. Please grant me your light and power that I may banish these creatures, if not for myself then for my stalwart companions who only seek to help the helpless and defend the innocent.”

Kazrack felt the divine energy burst from him and the zombies moaned their displeasure as they turned to flee.  The shadow shrieked again and took off straight for the sky.

Logan and Roland finished the last three zombies that had not fled and quickly the Keepers of the Gate re-grouped.  

Kazrack was so weakened that he was unable to lift the weight of his own armor and there was no time to remove it, so with a word from Martin, the dwarf _levitated_ a few feet off the ground.  Once Ratchis was conscious again, thanks to the graces of Bast, he tied a rope about Kazrack’s shoulders so he might be pulled along.  He then gently lifted the still unconscious Dorn, and draped him upon the dwarf, even though he too was feeling drained of strength. (5)

The Keepers of the Gate continued their hustle towards the pyramid, Dorn and Kazrack in tow.

“How humiliating,” Kazrack groaned.

More zombies fell in behind them.  They were crouched as they hustled to catch up, spears held relaxed and readied in their dry cracked hands.  These zombies were a far cry from the hundreds of mindless loping things the party had destroyed in the Necropolis of Doom. (6)

Soon the great plaza at the center of the city was coming into view, the pyramid looming above all other structures, including the city walls itself.  Ratchis noticed two tall statues flanking the end of the street.  They were of tall figures holding spears straight up and down before them. The figures were about nine feet high, but they were on pedestals nearly seven feet high.  The statues were carved of a white stone, and the figures looked human, with white togas similar to the tatters the zombies wore, but with cowled hoods that covered their faces.

It was then that Ratchis noticed a line of zombies moving to block the way to the pyramid plaza.

“The statues radiate moderate magic,” Martin warned, having seen them too.  “We should not go between them.”

“We have no choice,” Kazrack complained, as the rope holding him was passed to the watch-mage so Ratchis could hold his sword in two hands, and get ready to face the zombies blocking their path.  Suddenly, there was a rain of spears again, as another half-dozen zombies appeared on the roof of a building on the right.  

“Meow! Meow! Meow! Meow! Meow!” Roland said to Ratchis, so the half-orc cast _speak with animals_ to communicate with his companion.

“There are no zombies in the plaza,”  Roland explained. “I think the magic of the statues is keeping them out of there.”

Ratchis relayed this information to the others.

“Can we be sure?” Martin the Green asked.

“We have to risk it,” Ratchis replied.

“I agree,” Kazrack said weakly.

Ratchis called on Nephthys to grant him _bull’s strength_ and then cut a path through the zombies.   Martin hurried past as the half-orc held the undead at bay, drawing Kazrack and Dorn behind him. Roland ripped through another zombie to help them get by safely.  Martin stopped and looked at the pyramid.

A broad cobblestone plaza surrounded the great structure.  It was built of huge sedimentary bricks pocked with tiny pebbles and grit, and the top of it was not a point, but rather was cut open and flat and from it sprung countless vines, branches, flowers, roots and leaves that covered the vast majority of the pyramid all the way down to the street level.  Great thorny bushes were growing along the base of it, and along a steep set of stairs that led up the side to stone double doors.  Upon the doors was the raised sigil of a great tree in a ring.

Logan had stopped to hold off a few of the pursuing zombies that had caught up and soon found himself surrounded.  He suffered a few nasty wounds and was finally able to tumble out of the mob and into the plaza followed by Ratchis and Roland.  Another volley of spears followed them, and both Ratchis and Logan cried out in pain, but the zombies could not follow into the plaza.  They moaned in dissatisfaction, walking back and forth along the invisible barrier. 

“There is a dweomer upon the door as well!” Martin warned the others as he began to climb the steps.  Roland came up beside him.

“Point me towards the door and I shall try to dispel it,” Kazrack said.  Martin obliged the dwarf, but the call to his gods failed. (7)

There was another rain of spears on Ratchis and Logan as they reached the bottom of the steps.  More zombies had appeared on the nearby roofs, and while they could not enter the plaza, they still had a good angle for throwing their spears.

Roland roared his prayer, attempting to dispel the magic upon the doors as well, but he failed, too.

”We’re too much in the open here!” Ratchis said.  “We should take cover around the other side of the pyramid!”

“Ratchis, can you…Urk!” Martin had turned to the half-orc, and suddenly he felt the sharp heat of many needles shooting into his back.

Roland roared a warning.   As more spears clattered about them, Ratchis saw humanoid creatures rising out of the thorn bushes to join the one that had attacked Martin.  They seemed to be made of fibrous material like the inside of a tree, but a dull gray color, and covered with thousands of tiny needles.  Their faces only had the vaguest of features, except for pointed ears, like a crude parodies of an elf.

The four needlemen (8) tensed and another barrage of needles rained on the Keepers of the Gate. Roland winced as he bit down on one, ripping a huge chunk of its leg to little effect.  Ratchis bound up the stairs and hacked at one of the needlemen, closing his eyes as he felt the prick of a half dozen needles hit his face and chest.  Blood washed down his face in thin streams of sweat.

Logan followed and hacked at one on the other side.  Roland finished the one he was grappling with; needles sticking out of his snout and haunch.

“Ratchis! Your Key!” Martin reminded the friar. (9)

Ratchis leapt past the strange plant men and grabbed the large key he carried attached to his chain belt holy symbol.

There was a clatter of more spears from the zombies, but they could no longer reach without being very lucky.  But three more of the needlemen rose in the bushes further away from the stair, and soon everyone was bleeding from many needle wounds.  Individually, the needles did little, but in a buzzing cloud, the pain was quite distracting and the tiny wounds bloody.

“Nephthys!” Ratchis pressed the end of the key against the stone doors.  “Unlock these bonds and set aside any wards that might keep us from entering this temple shaped like those of ancient days and that holds the undead menace at bay!”

The door clicked.

“It is still radiating as magical,” Martin said, running up to stand beside Ratchis.

“It only temporarily dampens any traps,” Ratchis said. “The magic is still there.  We must hurry.”

Ratchis pulled the door open a few inches and shoved Martin inside, even as more needles were fired at them.  He ran back down the steps and grabbed Dorn and Kazrack, as Roland and Logan slipped through the doors as well; the latter holding them open for the half-orc and his burden.

Logan kicked the doors shut and pressed his back to them. 

In a moment, the Keepers of the Gate were in a small dark foyer, slumped against the cold stone floor.  

The foyer was decorated with a mosaic made from tiny colored tiles in shades of green, yellow and white. The scene of great hill with a tree atop it and many animals gathered about it, covered the floors and ceiling.  There were no windows, but the slightest breeze came through a slit in the thick burgundy curtain closing the foyer off from whatever was beyond.

Martin the Green stood and began to walk over to the curtain.

“Martin, wait!” Ratchis called in a harsh whisper.

“Can you use your magical eye to see if it is safe beyond the curtain?” Kazrack asked.

Martin nodded. “But, it will take ten minutes to cast.”

Martin sat back on the floor with his back to the wall and began the low slow chanting of the _arcane eye_ spell.

The song of a bird wafted in from the other side of the curtain.

“We are going to have to rest here,” Kazrack said.  “We seem to have little choice.”

“I just hope that time _does_ run more slowly here,” Ratchis replied. “If we rest here even one day and time is the same here as back in Aquerra, we have lost our chance to find out how to get into Hurgun’s Maze.  And we haven’t even found the Key Room yet.”

”I said we should not come,” Kazrack croaked.

“Too late for that, Kazrack,” Logan said.

The dwarf was so weak it took all his energy to shrug.  “At this point, I can only hope that the gods are arranging things in our favor.”

What little healing the party had left was spread around, and Dorn finally awoke up in a weakened state.  Kazrack and Ratchis argued about the latter using a healing potion. (10)

“I will not waste it on myself,” Ratchis insisted. “At least not now.  Someone else may end up needing it more.”

“Is someone there?” a voice came booming from beyond the curtain. It was deep and seemed to have a gurgling echo.  “Rraaaawoooo, hroom, if someone is there come out…”

Everyone looked at each other nervously.

“Martin, if you stop casting will the spell be lost?” Kazrack asked.  Martin nodded without stopping his casting.

“Then stay here,” Kazrack said.  “Ratchis, perhaps you should announce us.”

“Who is it that calls us?” Ratchis called, creeping over to the curtain, to take a peek.

“Should it not be I who ask you, my unexpected guests, who _you_ are,” the voice asked. “Hrmmm, humm… Yes, yes… That is how is should be. Hum.”

“We are called the Keepers of the Gate,” Ratchis called, leaning away from the curtain when he spoke to not give away his position.

“Oh! Hum. Oh!” the voice cried. “Ratchis, Kazrack, Martin… Come out!  Your visit is _not_ as unexpected as I first thought. No. No. Hrmmm. Haw.”

Ratchis looked back at Kazrack.  The dwarf was finished removing his armor, and dropped all his gear in one corner.  Now he could walk on his own, if still with great difficulty. (11)  The dwarf dragged his feet over to Ratchis and Roland was along side of them.  Logan stood and raised his sword. He had never put it away.

Ratchis pulled the curtain aside and there was a collective  gasp.

Beyond was a great chamber that revealed the pyramid was but a shell.  Within it was green verdant hill with clumps of small trees and fragrant flowers.  There was a trickling stream, and wisps of cloud dripping tiny rains here and  there.  At the end of the hill was a great tree over forty feet across, and so tall it went out the cut-off top of the pyramid.  It was the source of vines and branches that came down the outside. 

Strangest of all, was the dull glowing orb, like a tiny moon floating up near the tallest branches of the tree, giving the room just enough silvery ambient light to make out shapes in the chamber, and finer details close up.

The Keepers of the Gate, sans Dorn and Martin, took a few steps deeper into the strange chamber, and towards the hill and tree.  A bird cawed, and three chipmunks chased each other in circles and then disappeared behind some rocks on the other side of the stream.

“We have come forth,” Kazrack called. “Now, who is it that calls to us?”

“Come closer,” the low voice rumbled down the hill.  It seemed to be coming from the top of the hill by the tree.  As the party stepped forward, the tree’s branches began to move, and they could now see a myriad of objects that were tied with white bows into the branches of the tree, here and there.  Mostly there were sacks and bags of various kinds, but they also saw swords, suits of armor, musical instruments, statuettes, bells and chimes, and other things.

The trunk twisted and turned as they approached taking the form of a misshapen face, with deep knots for eyes, a moving hollow for a mouth, and curling bits of bark for a nose.

“I am Chochokpi,” the tree said.  They could feel the rumble of his voice in their bodies.  “I am the Tree that Grows Backwards.” 

-----------------------------------
*Notes:*
(1)	See Session #73

(2)	*DM’s Note:* Corporeal undead (as opposed to skeletal or non-corporeal) all have DR 5/slashing, as piercing their organs and breaking their bones do little to stop them.  Cutting them to pieces is the most efficient way of defeating them.

(3)	*DM’s Note:* Since this pocket plane exists within the plane of Void (i.e. the Negative Material Plane) all undead gain +4 turn resistance that stacks with any existing turn resistance.

(4)	Ratchis’ great sword had _magic weapon_ cast upon it.

(5)	*DM’s Note:* Those that are brought back from negative hit points by means of magic (instead of actual rest) are considered _exhausted_ (-6 Str and Dex).

(6)	See Sessions #40 thru #48

(7)	*DM’s Note:* Kazrack’s player (John) has rolled terribly throughout most of the campaign. It was a running joke for a while and we could never get him to change his set of dice to something more effective.  Later in the campaign, when his bag was stolen, losing his dice and D&D books, he was forced to borrow dice from other people, and began to roll a hell of a whole lot better.

(8)	*DM’s Note:* Anyone keeping track of how many 1E Fiend Folio monsters I’ve used in this campaign? 

(9)	This is the First Key: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Magical+Item+-+The+First+Key

(10)	This was one of the potions found in the backpack along with the Prayer Rug of the Wayfarer near the lair of the Hooked Horrors in Session #67

(11)	*DM’s Note:* Kazrack’s Strength score was down to a 2.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #84 (part ii)*

“Greetings, Chochokpi,” Kazrack said to the tree.

“Being a tree that can talk to humans and all, can you understand me?” Roland asked in a panther’s yowls and growls.

“Of course,” the great tree said, its stand-in for a face twisting to address the Bastite.  “But who are you, follower of the Cat Queen?  Where is Jana?”

“Dead,” Kazrack replied.

“Wait… How do you…?” Ratchis began.  

“And Martin the Green?” Chochokpi asked.  

“I am here,” Martin said, coming up the hill behind the others with Dorn; his eyes were wide with wonder and excitement.  “You seem to know us…”

“Ooh! Ooh! I like this place!” Thomas chittered in Martin’s mind. The squirrel familiar leapt out of the watch-mage’s hood and scurried about in the grass happily, and then scrambled up the side of the great tree. 

“I am glad to see you again, honored watch-mage, but Jana’s absence distressing me… Hrrm. Ho. Heh. Yes. _<grumble>_ Very distressing. And Jeremy?” 

“Jeremy is dead as well,” Kazrack said.

“No, hrm.  Hoom. Heh. That is certainly not right,” Chochokpi’s voice fell so deep it could hardly be understood. The sounds he made between syllables were an unpleasant bass buzzing. “No. That is not right.  And Sebastian?”

“We know no Sebastian,” Kazrack replied.

“I am Logan,” Logan said, stepping forward. “Do you know of me?”

“Why… Hrm. Hrm. Yes… yes, of course,” the tree grumbled. He turned thee face on his trunk to see Dorn. “But not this one…”

“Perhaps we have not met this ‘Sebastian’ yet,” Kazrack said.  “But tell me great Tree, Chochokpi, how is it you know us?”

“Oh… Oh… Yes… Haw. Hrmm. Hroom. Hrum. I nearly forgot…” Chochokpi let out a low rumbling laugh that shook through his roots and nearly knocked the Keepers of the Gates on their asses. “You see… Hrm. While this is the _first_ time you are meeting me, this is the _second_ time I am meeting you.  The next time you meet me will be the _second_ time you meet me… Hrm. Hroom. Of course… But it will be the _first_ time I meet you.”

There was a long silence broken only by the sound of crickets coming from the other side of the hill.

“I am the Tree the Grows Backwards,” Chochokpi added.

“So, if you grow backwards, you know us from the future?” Martin the Green asked the tree, skepticism in his voice.

“Hrm. Yes… You would call it ‘past’… Yes, yes, that is the proper word from your… Hrm… Point of view,” Chochokpi replied.

Kazrack fell to his knees, fatigue overcoming him, as Roland crept forward and began to drink of the cool refreshing water that collected in the small divots in the great tree’s roots.

“The cat has the right idea,” Chochokpi said to the dwarf.  “Drink.”  And with that the tree lowered a branch and wrapped it around Kazrack’s waist, lifted him off the ground.  The others were startled by the tree’s sudden moment, but before anyone could do anything rash, the dwarf was being gently hung over one of the pools to be allowed to drink.  Kazrack felt the strength returning to his limbs; perhaps not all that had been lost, but enough to take the edge off his tiredness, and his wounds began to slowly close. (1)

Chochokpi’s limb gently let go of the  dwarf, and Kazrack stood and walked back over to his friends, smiling.

Roland purred his pleasure as well.

“Have you given this water its healing properties?” Kazrack asked.

“I am the Tree that Grows Backward,” Chochokpi said as if that explained it all. “In the end I shall be the Seed, ready to explode again.”

Kazrack looked to Martin, who shrugged.

“Will it keep its properties if taken from this place?” Kazrack asked.

“Fill your vials if you like,” the tree responded.  “But its properties will not last forever.”  Kazrack filled two vials right away.

”We are honored to meet such an elder being as you,” Ratchis said to the tree, speaking for the first time, his head bowed.

“So, Chochokpi,” Martin said. “You have met us before, and you grow backwards, are you always here?”

“Hrm. No,” The great tree’s voice was not something one got used to. “But I am in more than one place, sometimes.  Hrm.  Yes… Yes… Or at least it would seem that way…  Hard to explain to those that grow frontways… Yes, yes, it is…”

There was another long silence in response to this.

“Hrm.  You must be tired by your…Hrum. Hrum… ordeal arriving here.” Chochokpi said. “But when we first meet you told me a way I could aid you, so when morning… Huh! Morning, be it as it may be in this place… When it comes, I shall give you that aid as you yourselves requested.  But now… Rest.”

“But where did we meet you the first…uh, I mean, the _second_ time?” Martin asked.

“Oh. Hrm. Yeah… Hurgun’s Maze… Or least, that is what you would call it… Yes…” the tree responded.  “Now rest.  You are safe here.  Yes, very safe.”

The Keepers of the Gate chose an area enclosed by half a dozen small flowering trees to make camp in. The evening here was cold, but they did not dare make a fire.  Huddled on their bedrolls, Roland transformed back into human-shape, and they fell to discussing this revelation.

“Can what this tree says be true?” Kazrack asked.

“I am willing to trust Chochokpi; what he says is unusual, perhaps improbable, but it is no less improbable than anything else we’ve encountered,” Martin replied.

“But why does he not recognize Roland or Dorn?” Logan asked.

“Perhaps they do not come with us to Hurgun’s Maze,” Martin speculated. “Dorn has already said before that he has not made up his mind about going.”

“But I have no such doubts,” Roland said.

“Perhaps something fundamental has changed,” Kazrack said, confusion in his voice. “I am not sure how to explain it, but maybe there are different versions of events this time around.  Are not the forces of time something even gods refrain from dabbling in?”

“Or alternate timelines? Alternate primes? ” Martin sat up and shrugged.  “We touched on such planar theory at the Academy, but not much of it. Though we may want to consider another possibility, perhaps Dorn and Roland die in the Maze before we ever meet Chochokpi, if so they may want re-consider entering it.”

“I won’t be scared off by speculation,” Roland said.

“Notice he did not mention Beorth,” Kazrack said.

Martin shrugged again.  “There are too many possibilities to spend too much time considering it.”

“But you made sure to mention the possibility that included my death, _thanks_,” Roland spat.

“Sorry…” Martin replied, shrugging his shoulders again.


_*Day Two in the Pocket Dimensional Realm of Topaline*_

In morning the glowing moon-orb was gone. It was replaced by a larger golden shining orb that gave the entire chamber the light and warmth of a mid-summer morning.  There were birds singing, and little animals chittering here and there.  A lone wolf drank from the stream, ignoring three small deer that grazed nearby.

Roland woke up extra early to transform into a his black panther form, parts of his fur shining purple in the strange sunlight, to frolic in the tall grass and drink of the stream.  He chased rabbits, but pawed them playfully, his claws retracted, and tumbled with a small black bear.  

Drinking from a pool by Chochokpi’s roots as his companions began to awaken, the Bastite heard the deep voice of the strange tree address him in the speech of cats.

“Roland of Bast… Hrm…” Chochokpi said.  “Where is it you come from?  How did you join ranks with the Keepers of the Gate?  Yes… yes… that’s what they call themselves…”

“Nikar,” Roland replied.  “I am not from there, but I have spent many of my recent years there.”

“Hurm, huh… No, that’s not right…” Chochokpi murmured, his voice growing nearly inaudible, with an almost sleepy quality to his voice.  “The heroes never went there… No, no they never did… not before the last time…”

“What does that mean?” Roland asked.

“Huh? Oh! Hrm. Well, could mean many things, none of which I know,” the tree replied.  “But things are changing, that’s for sure… Yes, yes… Certainly.  Tell  your companions to return to me when they are ready and the tale shall be told and the gifts shall be given.”

“Gifts?” Roland asked.

“Yes, gifts from your future selves,” Chochokpi said. “There won’t be one for you, I’m afraid.”

Roland crept back to others, dejectedly.  The party’s priests prepared spells and a great amount of healing was dispensed.

“I have prepared almost nothing but spells of healing,” Kazrack told Ratchis.

“As have I, but it seems like that is what we need,” Ratchis replied.  “But keep some in reserve. Not having other spells available will mean that if we have to fight, we are more likely to get wounded again.”

Kazrack nodded.

“I still haven’t decided what to do,” Chochokpi said when the Keepers of the Gate had gathered about his strange face once again to eat fruit and nuts, and drink thick nectar from broad leaves rolled up into cones that the tree provided.  “About the things that have changed… It is a lot to decide in a short frontways time. Hrm. And frontways time is always a hard time to think in… But that would make no sense to you… No, no, it wouldn’t.”

“Chochokpi, you said you first met us in Hurgun’s Maze?” Martin the Green asked.  Thomas leapt up on his master’s head and chittered happily, returning from a night among the squirrels that lived among Chochokpi’s boughs.

“In, but not in… No, not exactly in… But through… But you might say in… We shall say, yes… In.”

Martin looked at the others and Kazrack shook his head.  Ratchis, however, nodded.  He seemed awed to be in this thing’s presence. (2) 

“Did that make sense to you?” Logan asked Dorn.  Dorn shrugged his shoulders.

“When we met the first time…for me it was first…for you the second… You had to convince me to help you…to take items and information from you so that I might give it to you in the first place, which is what I plan to do,” the tree continued.

“How did we convince you?” Kazrack asked.

“It was not a lot that you asked of me. No, no… It was not…” Chochokpi said.  “But since it will be the first time I meet you when you did I could not tell you. I was thinking frontways time then and it is very difficult. As, hrm… Yes. Difficult now.  But I can tell you that when you gave me the items you had not faced your final foe yet in the effort to free Hurgun.”

“Hurgun is trapped?” Martin asked.

”Hmm, yes… Trapped by his own arrogance… Hrm, yes…  He was not satisfied to serve the oh…stone, and not satisfied to control fire and water and air.  He needed to control the fifth element. Time.”

“How did he seek to do that?” Kazrack asked.  “Foul magic?”

“Hmm? Oh, foul? Fair? I know not… I only know what you will tell me,” Chochokpi said.  “I only know he was attempting to bind a time elemental to his will when something went wrong and that was why his Maze disappeared and he was thought to have abandoned it for this bit of… hrm…frontways time.”

“What else did we tell you?” Martin asked.  “We must have told of what we faced in the Maze in order to help us be prepared. Right?”

”Hrm. Huh? No, no, no… Never did,” the tree replied.  “Afraid you’d change too much if you knew too much. Yes, yes… On that we agreed and insisted… though… Hmm, now that I see so much that has changed maybe having you tell me to tell you would not have been so bad… But with the uh… thinking in frontways time it all gets muddled anyway.”

Martin’s shoulders sagged.

“Time is a dangerous and fragile element, it is… Hmm, yes, yes, fragile…” the tree continued.  “When I give you these gifts you must swear to return them to me in the same conditions you received them, so that I might have them to give to you again later, or else… Oh! Paradox! No, no… Distortions! Bad changes. Oh! Hrm.  It is for that reason that I am not sure what to do with the items for those who are not here.”

“We should take those as well,” Kazrack said.  “If they need to be returned to you to give to us, we should have them.”

“Or I should have them all along… Hrm…” The tree was silent for a time, as were the Keepers of the Gate.  “Ah, urm…Well, I might as well give the things that belong to those of you who are here.

Chochokpi’s branches began to shake, and all the items tied up in the white bows among them shook and jingled as well, as he brought his limbs around to lower items one at a time, calling to each of the members of party to them.

“Ratchis, called D’nar,” Chochokpi rumbled, as he lowered a dull-green hued belt made of some kind of bumpy hide, but covered in a clear sheen.  It was decorated with a gold buckle inscribed with dwarven runes. “This is _Frojack’s Belt_.” (3)

 “Thank you,” Ratchis said, bowing his head as he took the belt.

“Hmmm. There is one other thing, Ratchis.  Something you asked me to tell you in this place,” Chochokpi intoned.  “When we first met…hmm…second time for you… You had not made your, hmmm… choice, but perhaps you should think about where your heart is in terms of your father’s people.”

“What choice?” Ratchis asked.

“I don’t know, but it weighed on you,” Chochokpi said, getting very low again.  “Herm, heh… Yes, it did.”

Ratchis showed the others his belt.

“Logan!” the tree called, and he lowered down a pair of soft ankle-high boots that were tied to the white bow by the laces.  “These are _Yossel’s Quickling-killing Boots._” (4)

Logan took down the boots looking happier than anyone in the group had ever seen him.  He immediately sat down to put them on and found that they grew to perfectly fit his feet.

Martin’s gift came in a silken bag tied with its white bow.  It held something heavy and solid and cube shaped. 

“This is the rare and powerful, _Wurfel Craft_,” Chochokpi said, as Martin drew out a worn stone cube about two inches to a side and carved with detailed images on each face that were different, but contiguous. (5)

Martin’s jaw dropped as he learned what _the Wurfel Kraft_ could do. (6)

 “Kazrack, for you something special,” Chochokpi said, as a branch way up near the top of the tree came slowly drooping down.  At the end of it dangled a silvery halberd with a wicked looking jagged point at the top.  “For you, _Beáth-agh_.” (7)

Kazrack bowed low in thanks.

“And now, hrm, hom… we come to the things whose owners have not arrived to take from me as was entrusted,” Chochokpi said, his voice gurgling with dew. “What would you have me do with them?”

“While we do not seek to take your genrosity for granted for giving us aid we have not yet asked for, I believe Kazrack is right,” Martin said.  “If the items must be returned to you to avoid the chronal distortions you spoke of, then you should entrust them to us, or to the companions who are here in place of those you first met.  If you trusted in our band before, then I must ask that you do so again, for it is the only band we know now.”

Chochokpi took a long time before replying, and when he did another branch came drooping down from way up on the tree.   Upon it was fastened a long sword of shining mithral. “This was to be Jeremy’s,” the tree said.  “It is _the Left Blade of Arofel_.” (8)

After a brief discussion the sword was entrusted to Dorn, who had no magical arms.

Another branch came whipping around from the other side of the great tree and from it gently hung a sturdy purple robe with gold trim on the cuffs, hem and hood.  “This was to be Sebastian’s, or maybe it was…hrm… hmmm… Yes, Jana.… The other had nothing… Nothing at all…  It is the _Robe of the Wayfarer_.” (9)

Roland transformed and took the coat.  He thanked Chochokpi and bowed his head with gratitude.

“Oh, but I did appreciate your being here, son of Bast…hrm, hmm, Yes, I did…” Chochokpi added.  “So, I wanted to give you another gift, unrelated to these items.”

He lowered another branch with a small sack attached, withing were two large bricks of _Incense of Meditation_.

The Keepers of the Gate thanked the great old tree Chochokpi again.

“Chochokpi, may I ask, who planted you?” Martin the Green asked.

“Hmph. No one planted me… No…Not yet,” Chochokpi gave something like a laugh.  “When I am a seed again the cosmos will no longer be, but when the seed I will be is planted from it shall a new cosmos spring forth.”

The Keepers of the Gate were unsure of how to respond to this.

“And one last thing you did ask of me,” Chochokpi said, stretching  a thick lower branch to point out the passage out of the chamber to the left of the way they came in.  “The directions to the Key Room. There will be lore to be found in the Library.” 

“Thank you, again,” Kazrack said.

“May you always grow towards the sun,” the tree told them as they left.

As they passed through a foyer similar to the one they came in, Kazrack turned to Martin.  “It is so sad that a creature of such wisdom and strength would have such addled beliefs.”

“Whatever do you mean, Kazrack?”

“What he said about the end of the cosmos,” Kazrack replied.  “There will be no end of the cosmos.  The First Mountain shall always stand.” (10)

“Let it go, Kazrack,” Martin sighed.

“You cannot say you believe that…” the dwarf began.

“Let it go.”

Outside, the city looked starker in the light of the three dull red suns that hung low in the air and turned about each other with disturbing regularity. The light of the luminescent sea was much brighter, creating a glaring aura that surrounded the city walls.  The Keepers of the Gate climbed down the steps on this side of the pyramid, warily  eying the thorny bushes flanking them.  But no new needlemen appeared. 

They paused at the edge of the plaza. Another broad street led to one of the six corners of the city, where they could see a white tower shining in the glare of the sea. The tower was the library Chochokpi had described. There was no sign of undead.

“At least no shadows are likely to bother us in this light,” Martin said.

“Perhaps you should let me use your boots,” Kazrack suggested to Logan.  

Logan sneered and shook his head. 

Ratchis took point and they began to hustle towards the tower.  Logan took the rear this time, with Kazrack, Martin and Dorn following the half-orc.  Roland, with his great speed in panther-form, prowled back and forth, sometimes going a bit further ahead than Ratchis, and other times lingering behind to watch for any undead that might be following them.  But they were able to make it just short of 150 feet of the tower without event.  They could now see that a well-manicured park was around the tower.  It had a radius of about sixty feet, and it patches of manicured grass and low trees were the only living green outside of the pyramid the party had seen.  

More of the green-tinged sinewy zombies, in their tattered togas, spears clutched in their calcified hands, emerged from either side of the broad street, just in front of the park.  They formed a crude phalanx and began to march towards the party, blocking the way.

“And so it begins again,” Kazrack said, quickening his pace to stand even with Ratchis as the zombies fell upon them.

“To me!” Martin called, holding _the Wurfel Kraft_ aloft.  Logan hustled to get near the mage, berating the others to join them.

Kazrack managed to knock aside the spear thrust of the first zombie to reach him, but the second’s weapon found the gap in the arm pit where the greaves and the chest plate were separated by the chain shirt beneath.  Dark blood seeped through the links.  Ratchis took a nasty wound to the upper thigh, and responded with a hacking blow of his great sword, fending the thing off so he could move towards Martin.   Though its chest was cleaved open, the zombie still stood, and hurried after the half-orc and struck him in the belly with point of its spear.  Ratchis roared as he leapt to the other side of Martin.

Spears came raining down from a nearby rooftop, as another six zombies were lined up to hurl them.  Martin cried out as spear bit into his foot, and the zombie that had been chasing Ratchis turned to look at him.  Kazrack hurried over and cut the legs out from under it, and guarded Martin.

The watch-mage pressed the side of the cube that showed the vines and a transparent cubic field of blue light surrounded him, the stone cube at its exact center. Ten feet to a side, Dorn, Ratchis, Kazrack and Logan were crammed in there with him.   

Zombies broke against the field like a wave, slamming their spears and fists against it futilely. 

“I think I’m going to like this thing,” Martin quipped.

“Yes, but how will we get past them?” Ratchis asked.

“Be careful to not touch the field,” Martin warned.  “I set it to keep out non-living matter, so these zombies cannot enter, but we can still pass into and out of it.  Well, parts of us anyway; weapons, armor and clothing cannot pass through.”

Meanwhile, Roland ripped a zombie that reached him to shreds, tumbling out of the confusion of limbs to rush at another one and then turn away at the last minute.  He rushed ahead towards  the park.  Two of the zombies took off after him.

“Nephthys! Turn these undead aside so that we may continue in our effort to save the free peoples of  Derome-Delem!” Ratchis called to his goddess, but the dark energies lingering in this city of the dead foiled him.

“Natan-ahb! Strike your hammer across the worlds and judge these foul creatures!” Kazrack called, but again it felt like the distance was too far.

“We can’t just stay here forever,” Logan complained.  “The ones on the roof are climbing down, and there are probably more on the way.”

He could not see from his vantage point, but he was right.  More zombies were moving into intercept Roland from either side of the broad intersecting street in front of the park.

“I will move the cube,” Martin said, and pushing on the cube that was suspended in the center of the field in the direction he wanted to go, the entire cubic field slid slowly down the street with the party sliding along with it.  The zombies seemed about to scatter, but they re-formed and put their shoulders into it and the cube slowed and nearly stopped.

“These undead are smart,” Martin surmised. “They can improvise.  At this rate the cube will run out of charges before we reach the tower.”

“What in the Nine Hells is that?” Logan cried out, pointing up to where the zombies had been throwing spears from.   A hulking blue mottled frog-like humanoid came leaping off a roof onto the street.  It led with clawed feet, ripping a zombie to shreds as it followed up with long jagged claws that emerge from its forearms.   It gurgled disturbingly, as its long black tongue drooped down over its flaccid crusty lips, flicking occasionally against its gleaming fangs.  It leapt towards another zombie.  

Two of the zombies pushing on the cube moved to intercept their new foe.

“Is it helping us?” Kazrack asked.

“I don’t like the look of that thing,” Ratchis said.

“Many would say the same about you,” Logan quipped.

At the edge of park, Roland was sprinting towards the tower, trying to get around the zombies that came out of the side street. They threw their spears at him.  Three spears clattered by the panther, but one struck deep in his rear haunch, slicing through flesh and muscle. (11) Roland yelped as his rear legs scuttled behind him for a moment, as he nearly tumbled out of control.  He yelped again, as he saw another of the frog-things leap out of the shadows of an alley on his left and come hopping in great high jumps towards the park.

“I should have just run around them using my new shoes,” Logan said.  “Now I’m stuck in here.”

The cube’s progress quickened a bit, as now there were only two zombies pushing against it.  The others had joined their brethren in attacking the frog-creature only to be ripped to shreds as well.   The thing hopped over the cube and spun in mid-air, landing behind Dorn and reaching through the field and nearly ripped the cohort open.

Martin quickly pressed the side of the stone cube that displayed a garden gate.  The field hummed and now held out everything.  The cube slowed again.

The frog-thing slammed against the field, croaking furiously, but it could not get through.

“I have an idea!” Martin cried, and in a moment he had Kazrack and Ratchis pushing on the field-wall tipping it over in the direction of the park.  The zombies fell back, giving  ground, as the frog-thing leapt atop the cube, clawing, croaking and drooling madly.

Roland let out a sigh as he saw the four zombies moving to intercept the frog-thing that had seemed to be coming after him.  They cut it off before it reached the edge of the park.  The Bastite leapt up into one of the small trees at the foot of the exposed steps that led up to a metal door into the tower; above it were three rows of tiny grated windows.  He tried to hide there, eying the frog-thing warily as it tore through zombies with ease.

Suddenly, the metal door in the white tower opened.  Out stepped a man with a long grizzled dark brown beard, a chain shirt and leather greaves, a helmet with narrow visor guarding his twinkling green eyes, and bearing a shield and warhammer.  The man hurried down the stairs.  

Seeing that the frog-monster had already dealt with the zombies, Roland jumped from the tree, hustled up the stairs, and leapt past the man through the door, even as it slammed shut.  The bearded warrior slapped his hammer loudly against his shield to draw the attention of the frog-monsters as he came down the stairs.

Six more zombies filed out of a side street, moaning their displeasure.  But the first frog-thing ignored them, leaping after its companion who had just spotted the bearded warrior.   The bearded warrior ran at it and slammed it in the face with his hammer, and then sprung away deftly. The thing’s nasty claws ripped through the empty air where he had just been.

The cube moved along a little further, before the new zombies pushed against it again.  Kazrack and Ratchis tipped it over again, as the others made ready to jump and keep their balance in order to keep from falling prone.

“Drop the field and head for the tower!” Kazrack advised, as the  _cube of force_ came within fifteen feet of the park edge.  “I will hold them off while you retreat.”

“Those things will tear you apart,” Ratchis retorted.

“Looks like they’re going to rip apart whoever that is,” Logan said, pointing to the bearded warrior who had struck and leapt away again.  Unfortunately, the other frog-thing had arrived, and was able to cut him off.  The sound of its claws screeching against the man’s armor and helmet was nearly eardrum-piercing.  Blood bloomed from the man’s wounds, as he leapt back again.

Roland crept through a long-ceiling antechamber, to find a cylindrical room within the tower.  Steps of white stone circled up to the three floors which were lined with shelves of some kind of strange books that had stone spines marked with golden runes.  The runes were similar to those that had been around the portal that led to Topaline.  An additional floor was at the top, but closed off from the others. The lower three floors also seemed to have doors that led to chambers that must have been built into the tower’s thick outer wall.  From a door at the top of the stairs on the second floor emerged the strangest creature Roland had ever seen.

It had the body of a chestnut draft horse, broad and strong, but where the horse’s neck and head should be was an over-sized human head with a black curly beard, and long locks that flowed down its back and eventually became the coarse hair of its tail.  The face had pale skin and bright blue eyes, and it wore a gold tiara with a diamond at the center.  Its hooves clattered against the stone floor as it  regarded Roland.

“Where is Bastian?” Roland heard a voice in his mind. 

The Bastite was taken aback, but finally growled and thought back, “Bastian? Is that Sebastian I passed on the stairs?  Oh, that frog-thing might get him and that’d be bad.  Can you do something?”

The creature seemed deep in thought and did not respond. (12)

Roland looked back the way he came from after calling to Bast to close his wounds, “ Can you at least open the door for me?” he asked the strange creature. “I need to get back and help my friends.”

“The door will open for you,” the creature thought back. “Bring your friends into the library.  They will be safe from the slaadi and the zombies here.”

Meanwhile, Bastian stood ready to run when the blue slaadi flexed its muscular arms and croaked at him.  The red-bearded warrior felt his muscles stiffen as he was suddenly _held_.  His eyes moved back and forth in panic, but his legs would not obey, and his shield, though up, could not be moved from side to side.  He held his hammer above his head in his right hand.

The frog-monster croaked in satisfaction and began to hop towards Bastian.  The other one, having finally disposed of more zombies, noticed how close the rest of the Keepers of the Gate were, and went leaping back in that direction.

Bastian felt the thing’s tongue flick across his face and the thing’s foul breath as it loomed over him, and suddenly he heard a roar behind him and he could move!

Bastian leapt aside before being eviscerated, and saw that Roland had come through the door and was the top of the stairs.  The Bastite had broken the spell that held the bearded warrior, and with another roar called to his goddess again.   A beam of _searing light_ blasted from the panther’s eyes and burned the slaadi in the chest.  It croaked in dismay and anger.

*End of Session #84*
---------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	*DM’s Note:* Drinking from Chochokpi’s pools acted as both a _lesser restoration_ spell and a _Regenerate Light Wounds_ spell that could be used once per day per drinker.
(2)	*DM’s Note:* Ratchis’ player was not present for all or most of this session (the memory is foggy. So I used the excuse of Ratchis’ awe (as a ranger and nature-lover) as a way for him to not voice his opinions as often as he usually does.
(3)	*DM’s Note:* To read more about this item check the aquerra.wiki: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Magical+Item+-+Frojacks+Belt
(4)	*DM’s Note:* To read more about this item check the aquerra.wiki: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Magical+Item+-+Yossels+Quickling-killing+Boots

(5)	*DM’s Note:* To read more about this item check the aquerra.wiki: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Magical+Item+-+The+Wurfel+Kraft

(6)	*DM’s Note:* I gave each player the card describing the magical item and said they can assume anything about how its history and how it functioned was explained by Chochokpi.

(7)	*DM’s Note:* To read more about this item check the aquerra.wiki: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Magical+Item+-+Beath-Agh

(8)	*DM’s Note:* To read more about this item check the aquerra.wiki: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Magic+Item+-+The+Left+Blade+of+Arofel

(9)	*DM’s Note:* To read more about this item check the aquerra.wiki: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Magic+Item+-+Robe+of+the+Wayfarer

(10)	Dwarven religion has no apocalyptic myths.

(11)	*DM’s Note:* The ju-ju zombie scored a critical hit.  The result was “Apply Crit Multiplier +1 to Total Damage”

(12)	*DM’s Note:* That was a _stilled silent detect evil_.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #85 (complete)*

Roland leapt off the stairs and sprinted at an angle away from the slaadi.  Again and again, the terrible claws of the frog-creature scraped against Bastian’s shield, driving the bearded warrior back.

The others managed to get the cubic field into the park, near where several zombies were being cut through by the other slaadi. 

“Okay, I’m dropping it,” Martin said, and he pressed the face of the cube marked with a pond.  The field of blue light blinked out of existence, and the zombies were upon them.  One of the zombies thrust his spear right into Kazrack’s neck, driving the dwarf down to his knees from the pain.  The slaadi spun around, sensing weakness and drove his claws into he dwarf’s side, drawing blood from a terrible wound.  It croaked with satisfaction, as it spun around again and leapt up, ripping the head off a zombie.  The neck stump gurgled and leaked thick yellow liquid and then body fell over.

Ratchis found himself with two zombies thrusting their spears at him, and he fought to ward off their blows with his great sword.  He held them back to let Martin and Logan run for the tower door, and when he saw they were away, he began to back in that direction as well.

“Dorn! Stay with them,” he told his cohort.

Kazrack crawled to his feet and just barely avoided another swipe from the blue frog-man.  He could hear Roland yowling and growling his _prayer_ to Bast, as he drove his halberd between the monster’s legs, cleaving it through the thigh and catching the left leg on the way back, flipping the thing onto its back.   The dwarf followed it up with a hack to the chest while it still floundered to recover.  The blow would have easily killed any man, and even most ogres, but instead the slaadi leapt back to his feet, its strange organs hanging out by sinew and tendon from its cleaved chest.  Its innards pulsed and twisted and then seemed to bloom and turn black and fall off, the wound left behind closing as organs could be seen growing back on the inside.  It croaked loudly three times.

“What in Lehrothronar’s name are these things?” Kazrack swore.

More zombies moved in on him before he could strike the thing again.  His halberd clanged against their spears.

Bastian kept backing away and his foe suddenly sprung high into the air landing in front of Logan, who stepped in front of Martin to protect him.  The watch-mage kept running, while Roland took the slaadi’s respite to hustle over to Bastian in order to heal him.  The new-comer looked at the panther warily, but allowed it to come over and rub against his side.  Bast’s healing graces closed the worst of his oozing wounds.

 “Thank you,” he said, patting the panther on the head.  Roland growled a playful warning.

Martin the Green waited at the bottom of the steps up into the white library tower, as Logan leapt back and fired an arrow at nearly point blank into the slaadi’s mouth.  The frog-thing plucked it out with a claw, carelessly tearing the side of its own mouth open.  Bastian suddenly came up behind the thing and smashed his hammer into the back of its bulbous head, bursting it like a crusty blue zit.  Yellow, green and blue ichor exploded in all directions, as the bearded warrior sprung away again.  The thing leapt to the base of the stairs, cutting off Ratchis who had almost arrived, startling Martin.  The thing croaked almost musically and traced a circle on the floor with its foot, but nothing happened. (1)

Ratchis charged the frog-thing, and thrust his sword into it mouth and tore the top of its head open.  He looked down as thing’s tongue, eyes and other organs squirmed and exploded, but the wounds were too much for it to heal before its life ebbed away.  The half-orc turned around just in time to see the second slaadi come leaping upon him.  He cried out as the thing’s claws cut open his belly and hip.  Kazrack arrived behind the thing, only to get one of its feet in his face, drawing blood. The dwarf drove his new halberd into the thing’s belly and swung it towards Logan who let two arrows fly into the back of its soft head.  Another blow from Ratchis and it was smeared on the grass like its companion.

Out on the street more zombies were gathering and heading in their direction.

“Come!  We must enter the library! Abderus will give you refuge!” Bastian said, his wild beard seemed to growed as long from the sides of his head as his chin. He hurried up the steps, and the metal door opened of its own accord.  Roland growled his agreement and hurried in behind him.  The others looked at each other and followed.

Martin gasped when he stepped through the antechamber and into the library-proper.  He looked around at the shelves and shelves of books, and the tables with scrolls and small sculptures and his eyes went wide.  He looked up the steps at the next floor of books and saw the strange horse-man standing there.  For a moment, the watch-mage thought it was a centaur, but then he realized the creature did not have the upper torso of a man, just the over-sized head of one.

“You are a shedu,” Martin said.

“Yes, I am,” came soothing baritone in that the Keepers of the Gate heard in their minds.

“Oh! Stop that!” Kazrack complained.  “I don’t like it!”

“I am sorry if my telepathy disturbs you,” the soothing voice said again.  “But this is the only way I can be sure you will all understand me, as I cannot speak your language, but in the realm of thoughts I can speak and understand anything.”

“I am sorry, strange creature,” Kazrack said, stammering as he half thought half spoke his words. “I did not mean to be rude to one who grants us refuge from the foul undead of this strange city.  How do you come to be here?  What is this place really?”

“You will have to excuse my dwarven friend,” Roland thought to the shedu.

“The dwarven people are not as skilled with their tongues as they are with hammer and chisel,” the shedu said. “But they more than make up for it in their steadfastness.  I am called Abderus, and Martin is correct, I am of the shedu.”

“And who is this?” Ratchis asked, pointing to Bastian.  The hairy man had removed his helmet and was pulling off his chain shirt.  Thick brown hair covered his face and neck and stuck out from under his woolen shirt.

“This is Bastian,” Abderus replied. “I have given him refuge here as well, but his story is his own to tell. I am sure you have many questions and are tired from your ordeal.  Join me in the upper floor above the library for a meal and some rest. I can try to answer everything I can there, and I shall have questions as well.”

The shedu turned and began to clop awkwardly up the circular stairs.  The Keepers of the Gate followed, though Logan waited behind long enough to make sure Bastian walked up ahead of him.

“Chochokpi mentioned someone by your name to us,” Martin said. “Or a similar name.”

“That is the great tree?” Bastian asked.  He spoke in a soft and even voice that did not match his gruff exterior.  “Abderus told me of him, but I had no way to get there safely.  As it was, if I had not made it to the library when I did I would have been killed by the zombies and shadows.”

“Abderus seems like a creature of many talents and some power,” Roland said, transforming into human form.  Bastian was startled.  “Oh, excuse me,” Roland added.

“He cannot leave the library,” Bastian explained. 

At the top of the open steps a narrower set led up to the enclosed floor.  It was clear that the shedu was too large to take the steps or fit through the narrow door above.  “Bastian knows the way,” Abderus said. “I shall meet you there.”  And with that he disappeared.

”Does he do that a lot?” Kazrack asked Bastian.

“Only when he goes to the upper floors,” Bastian replied.

“There is more than one floor up there?” Ratchis asked.

“At least one more, but I have not seen it,” Bastian replied.

“What makes you think you can trust this creature?” Kazrack asked.

“Abderus has given me no reason not to trust him,” the man replied.  “And when I arrived I was close to death and he tended to my wounds and fed me and has kept me safe these last  few days.”

“What are you doing here?” Ratchis asked, now following Bastian up the steps.  The others followed behind them.

“Waiting for you, the Fearless Manticore Killers,” Bastian turned and smiled.

“We don’t call ourselves that anymore,” Kazrack replied.

The room above drew another collective gasp.  This floor of the tower had long rounded thick glass windows that allowed a commanding view of the city and the luminescent sea that surrounded it.  The room had a plush sea green carpet, and comfortable padded chairs, sofas and a divan.  A long marble dining table was in the center of the room surrounded by nine chairs and Abderus stood beside it. There was a silver tub behind a large sofa.  Metal stairs, almost like a ladder, just off center of the room reached a trapdoor in the ceiling, and beneath it was a wooden rack holding about a dozen bottles of wine.

Ratchis noticed a pack and some other gear on the floor by the divan, upon which was a folded woolen blanket.  From one of the chairs came swooping a falcon that landed on Bastian’s shoulder.

“What’s that?” Thomas asked with fear in his little voice.  Martin felt chills run down his back as his familiar’s fear washed over him.

Martin the Green soothed the squirrel as he asked Bastian about the bird.

”This is Nikron, my companion,” the bearded man said, as he scratched it beneath the beak.

“Are these the ones we waited for?” the falcon clucked in Bastian mind.

“Yes,” Bastian replied.

“I don’t like the look of them,” the falcon said.

“Feel free to get comfortable,” Abderus said to them.  “Put your thing among the furniture where Bastian has been staying, you may use it as you like.  I have no use of it.  And though I also have no need of food, I hope that this will be sufficient for your stay.”

Abderus nodded his head toward the table and it was now covered with a white linen cloth and held the most delicious looking and smelling food the Keepers of the Gate could remember.  There was a whole roasted boar and six glazed ducks.  There were braised asparagus spears in garlic sour cream.  There were two bowls of steamed crabs, and a horn full of autumn fruits and nuts.  There were bottles of wine and pitchers of beer and horns of mead.  There was steaming bread with great slabs of fresh butter and tiny jars of multi-colored jam.

Logan, Dorn, Roland and Ratchis immediately fell to eating, thanking Abderus between bites.  Bastian joined them.

Martin shrugged and went to slip off _Lacan’s Demise_, but remembered its power had not kicked in yet. He left it on and began to eat as well, smiling. (2)

“This may be the last good meal we ever have,” he said.  Thomas leapt onto the table and ran back and forth grabbing nuts and bits of dried fruit and making a pile for himself.  Occasionally, he would stop to check and see where the falcon was. Nikron was perched on one of the empty chairs, jerking his head back and forth to take it all in.

“Is this food magical?” Kazrack asked.  He watched Ratchis tear a leg from the boar and starting tearing huge pieces of juicy meat with his teeth and rubbed his hands together nervously.  “I am not sure that I should partake.”

“Kazrack, you are being rude,” Roland said to the dwarf as he poured wine in everyone’s glass. “Come eat.  Everything is delicious!”

“Tell us, Abderus, what is this place?  Why is it overrun with undead?” Kazrack asked the shedu.

“This is Topaline, one of the ancient hidden cities of the people you would call ‘the Mystics’,” Abderus explained, his words still echoing softly in their heads. “Like all of the cities of this kind once found in Aquerra, other rather, adjacent to it, Topaline was abandoned because of the foul energies that were seeping into their demi-planes.  All of these were created in pockets in the Plane of Void, but the Mystics did not realize that over the centuries, the veils that separated these artificial realms would be perforated.  And when, Dralmohir (3) was created in a great explosion, a great piece of its cursed mountain struck the area near the portal to Topaline from Aquerra.”

“You mean, the portal we came through beneath the Temple of Bast?” Roland asked.

“There would have been no temple then,” the shedu said.  “Instead, it was a guarded entrance, for it was one of the last places the Mystics hid.  However, the energies of that great cursed stone bled through the portal, and further damaged the veils.  The last of the Mystics that could not flee were transformed into free-willed undead.”

“So what are you doing here?” Logan asked.

“I guard the lore of the library,” Abderus said.  “I was one of the last Mystics to survive, and only through great discipline, study and dedication to the gods (4) was I able to be transformed into one of the shedu.  You see, of those of my people who survived, some were able to transform themselves into the shedu, but it was difficult.  The less patient, or moral, became what you would call ‘manticores’.”

There was a silence for a time that was only broken by the cracking of bones and chewing of food.

“But the Mystics lived in the Second Age…” Martin began.

“Ah, but some were still hidden in Aquerra as late as the ninth century of the Third Age,” Abderus replied.

“But still…” Roland said. “That would make you hundreds of years old…”

“More like fifteen hundred, but much of that I have been here and time is not as linear here as it is in Aquerra,” Abderus said.

“Yes, we were worried about that,” Ratchis said. “We have a deadline and we are afraid it has already passed.”

“You are fortunate to have come at this time of year in Topaline,” the shedu replied. “Right now the ratio of days here to Aquerra is in your favor, but as autumn approaches, it even up and eventually more days will pass there as pass here.”

“So you are duty-bound to guard the lore of the library?” Roland asked.  “For we seek lore as to how to unlock the entrance to Hurgun’s Maze so that we might free him.”

“No, no longer.  The length of my promise for that has passed.  However, I also promised Hurgun of the Stone that I would guard the Key Room, which is really what you seek.  He promised to return to replace me, but it has been nearly two centuries and he has not returned.  Yet, because of my promise I cannot allow you access to the Key Room.”

“If you do not allow us access, it might be that Hurgun will never return, and you shall always be trapped here,” Roland replied.

“I shall have to think on it,” Abderus said.  “Other have come here, seeking the Key Room, but I have always driven them away when they would not take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“Recently?” asked Ratchis, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Not too long ago, a group of monks came in the company of a devil,” Abderus said.

“A devil?” Kazrack asked.  (5)

The shedu nodded.  “Are you sure you will not eat, Kazrack?”

Kazrack pulled on his beard and looked at the food, he could not resist any long and he began to eat as well.

“Why would Hurgun choose to put his Key Room in this foul place anyway?”  Kazrack asked.

“He felt this place would dissuade those who would seek out this Key Room from coming here,” Abderus said.  “And it is not as if the existence of Topaline is common knowledge. He felt he needed a place to call his Maze back to Aquerra if he were separated from it.”

“Separated from it?” Roland asked.  “I was told the Hurgun’s Maze was a nexus of planes.”

“It is an artificially constructed mobile nexus,” Abderus said. “It moves through the planes.”

Roland’s face lit up as he smiled broadly and looked right at Kazrack.

“What?” the dwarf asked.

“I love it when I am right,” the Bastite replied with a wink.

“Let me not disturb your meal with more of this talk,” Abderus said to them, ironically not speaking when he said it, but continuing to use his telepathy.  “Allow me to sequester myself for a time so I might think upon this dilemma.”

“One last thing, Abderus,” Martin said.  “Would it be okay if I looked through the library’s books?  I know you said you defended the lore here, but…”

“You are more than welcome,” Abderus replied. “Though they are not conventional books as you would think of them, but records in the style of the Mystics, and as such without magical aid you will not be able to read the  ancient runes.”

“I have a spell that will help me,” Martin replied.

“Then you are welcome to look and even copy whatever you like.  There are even some spells you might want to learn,” Abderus said. “But no book may leave these premises, and I will point out a set of books you may not read.”

“I understand,” said Martin the Green. 

“So, Bastian,” Roland said, looking to the silent bearded man. “Tell us more about what brings you here.  You said you were waiting for us?”

“Not waiting, looking…” Bastian said in a voice like a rustle through autumn leaves.  “And then I found out you’d be here so I found a way of getting here to catch you.”

“And what are you looking for us for?” Kazrack asked.

“I wanted to offer you my help,” Bastian said.

“Well, you must think yourself to be very helpful or else, why go through all the trouble of coming here?” Martin replied.

“You are helping Gothanius, and so, I want to help you,” the man continued.  “I heard tales of you as I made my way back to Gothanius, and I knew if anyone could help it would be the watch-mage of Gothanius and the Fearless Manticore Killers.”

“We aren’t called that anymore,” Kazrack said, refilling his mug with mead.

“We are called the Keepers of the Gate,” said Ratchis.

“You said, you were ‘coming back to Gothanius’,” Roland said. “Coming back from where?”

“The west.  I was living with a barbarian clan, called the Thorad-klen,” Bastian explained. “They are a peaceful people, well-skilled in the arts of smithing and weaponcraft.  I went there when the Orc Skirmishes (6) began.  I did not want to fight.”

“You did not want to defend your people in a time of  war?” Roland asked, not hiding his disdain.

Kazrack grunted, but Ratchis was impassive.  Martin the Green only had the same sorry droopy expression now made into a mask of horror by the effects of the Book of Black Circles.

“I have no love of orcs, and I am no coward, but I found out that the war was not one of defense as the crown and the aldermen claimed, but one of expansion.  It seemed wrong to risk so many lives for a wider spot on a map, or more gold in the royal coffers, all the while breaching frontiers that would further endanger the people of the kingdom,” Bastian’s voice grew even softer than normal. “It was wrong.”

“So you abandoned your people instead,” Roland replied.

Bastian looked down.

“What does all of this have to do with us?” Kazrack asked, grabbing an unidentifiable piece of boar bone to suck the last of the meat from it.

“The dragon that threatens Gothanius is real,” Bastian said, looking at Ratchis when he said it, and then he looked to each of the others. “And I have learned that there are great bands of orcs that worship and serve her.  Slaying the dragon would sow chaos in the ranks of these orcs and lessen the danger they pose to Gothanius.  I heard that you all were the group of dragon-hunters hired by the king who were most likely to accomplish this task, so I have come to help you.”

“And how _did_ you come here?” Roland asked at the same moment as Martin said, “We have seen signs and heard word of this orc gathering, and we know about the dragon’s role, but slaying a dragon is most likely beyond us, so what are we to do about an entire orc army?”

Bastian chose to answer the watch-mage’s question.  “Figure out a diplomatic way to stop it? Isn’t that what watch-mages are supposed to do?”

Martin was silent.

“Our first priority is Hurgun’s Maze,” Ratchis said.

“What is this Hurgun’s Maze?” Bastian asked.  “I heard Abderus talking to you about it, but I am not sure I get what it is.”

Kazrack looked at the bearded man slyly.

“It is suffice to say that it poses a greater danger to Gothanius and all of Derome-Delem than any orc army,” Ratchis said. “But, I will do anything in my power to stop a war once the problem of the Maze is resolved.”

“The dwarves of Derome-Delem will not allow such an army to travel unchecked,” Kazrack said.  “I am sure it is nothing to worry about.”

“This Maze thing endangers Derome-Delem?” Bastian asked Ratchis.

The half-orc nodded.  “Okay,” Bastian said. “I will help you with Hurgun’s Maze, if you will help stop the orcs from destroying Gothanius.”

“No,” Ratchis stood. “I don’t think so. No one enters the Maze but us.”

“But Ratchis, remember, Chochokpi mentioned Bastian,” Martin said. “He said someone named ‘Sebastian’ was among our number.”

“The Tree said that?” Bastian asked.

Roland nodded, as Ratchis growled his displeasure.

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

The pitchers and cups, plates, bowls and utensils began to slowly disappear as their contents were served or eaten.  The Keepers of the Gate sat back upon the couches, doing what they had not had a chance to do since leaving Nikar, relax.

Martin went down to check the library, while Kazrack and Ratchis snored away food-induced naps.  Roland and Bastian fell to talking.

Roland had helped himself to two of the bottles of wine in the rack and was pouring them into a pair of silver cups he carried in his pack.

“So, you never told us how you came to be here,” Roland asked after the second cupful.

“When I arrived I was attacked by undead, but luckily I was close to the library, and…” Bastian began.

“You need to back up a little to get to the part I want to know about,” Roland said. “How did you arrive here? In this place? A demi-plane? It doesn’t happen everyday.”

“What difference does that make?” Bastian asked. “I’m not asking you how you got here.”

“Yes, but we are not claiming to have come here in search of you, but you claim that you sought us, thus…”

“I still don’t see how it matters,” Bastian interrupted.

“You want to come along with us? You want us to help you?  You want us to trust you, but you won’t tell us?” Roland drained a cupful and poured himself another. “Damn! They snore loud!”  He threw a cork at Kazrack and it stuck in the dwarf’s beard.  The Bastite giggled.

“That’s right, I want you to trust me. That means if I don’t want to tell you something you have to trust that I have a  reason, just like I have to trust your group at their word that going to this Hurgun’s Maze place will help my homeland, and that you will aid me avert the onslaught of the coming orcs.” Bastian took small sips.

“You seem a lot more worried about your homeland now that when you first ran out on them. What changed?” Roland asked.

“I will fight to defend Gothanius against attack,” Bastian said.  “I never stopped caring about the people of Gothanius, I just could not in good conscience take part in the massacre of the orcs.”

“Your reticence to speak will go against you when it comes time to decide to bring you along,” Roland said, standing.

“We shall see,” Bastian replied quietly.

Downstairs, Martin the Green had pulled out a pile of books and began to go through them. He was surprised to find that there were no actual pages.  Instead, the books were more like boxes with faux spines, and ridges where pages would be. Inside, in nine padded niches, were rounded slivers of stone, like polished jade and covered in tiny markings.  There were three small golden runes beneath each niche. Carvings on the opposite side, in what would have been the inside cover, showed pictogram instructions of what was to be done with them.  Martin the Green shuddered.

He gently slipped one of the strange green lenses out of its niche and pulled out his lower eye lid with the other hand, and like the instructions showed, he slid it over his eye.   Suddenly before him were lines and lines of runes hanging in the air and shining.  He could read them and move them with a flick of his eye.  He found that the information was not organized in a linear fashion, but information could be cross-referenced by focusing on smaller runes in margins of the rows.  Once he got over the strangeness of the mode, Martin sighed with joy as he absorbed reams of spell knowledge and history.

The rest of the day went on much like that.  The Keepers of the Gate appreciating the rest while they waited for an answer from Abderus.


_*Day Three in the Pocket Dimensional Realm of Topaline*_

Abderus  came to them after breakfast (bowls of fruit that awaited them when they awoke) to tell them about his meditations on allowing them to access the Key Room.

“Abderus?  I was curious, how do you know about Hurgun and Time Elemental?” Roland asked.

“Hurgun of the Stone spent a great amount of time here researching when he first began to have problems with his Maze,” Abderus said into each of their minds.  “You see as it moves through the planes there is ‘planar displacement’, which could lead to dangerous reality distortions and planar bleed. He was convinced he could fix the problem by binding a time elemental into the magical engine of the Maze.  By using its powers, he sought to distort time about the Maze to counteract the side-effects.”

“Time is the province of the gods,” Kazrack said, angrily.

“It appears that he pays for his hubris,” Ratchis said.

“And we shall save him from his payment if that is what we must do,” Roland said.  He turned to the Shedu, his ringlets bouncing on his powdered forehead. “And what decisions have your meditations brought you to?”

“I shall ask you a question,” the shedu said, and then was silent for a time.  The Keepers of the Gate waited expectantly. “I would be failing in the spirit of my agreement with Hurgun if I did not offer some help in freeing him. For what is protecting the Key Room, if not protecting the Maze itself, and if by hindering you I endanger the Maze then my pledge is for naught.”

“Then you will allow us to use the Key Room?” Kazrack asked.

“Perhaps,” Abderus smiled, and his horse body shook. “But I cannot simply allow access with no test of your intent and virtue.  So, I shall ask you a question.  You can think about and discuss an answer.  I shall return to you at dinner, and you can tell me then.  Agreed?”

“If it is what we must do, then we shall do it,” Roland said.  Ratchis and Kazrack nodded.

“And the question is this: Up in an arm-like bough of Chochokpi is a tiny bird’s nest, clutched in its fingered branches, where a newly hatched bird sits, just out of your sight above you.  Tell me, is that baby bird alive or dead?”

“What? How are we supposed to answer that?  I mean, how newly hatched?  If it broke out of its shell it must be alive…” Kazrack began.

“That is the question,” Abderus said.  “Think on it.  I shall return for the evening meal.”

And with that the shedu was gone.

“Why do we have to wait until the end of the day?” Kazrack asked.  “Why can we not answer it as soon as we have come up with an answer?”

“Perhaps it is more difficult to answer than it seems,” Ratchis offered.

“It is neither difficult nor simple to answer,” Kazrack said. “It is a situational question that is impossible to truly answer.”

Logan nodded.

“Could that be the answer?” Roland asked.

Martin shrugged.  “I was never very good at riddles.”

“Doesn’t seem like much of a riddle,” Kazrack said.  “A very weak riddle.”

“So what’s the answer?” Logan asked.

“I would say we can’t know, but if we must give an answer, it would be ‘alive’,” Kazrack said.

“Why ‘alive’?”

“If the bird is newly hatched it pecked its way out of its own shell, and thus must be alive,” Kazrack reasoned.

“But what if it expired with its last peck? Hatching and dying instantaneously?” Roland asked.

“Then the question makes no sense and it is unanswerable and we give my first answer,” Kazrack said.  The dwarf turned to his half-orc companion.  “What do you think D’nar?”

“I don’t know what to think,” Ratchis replied.

“I agree with the dwarf…uh, I mean, Kazrack,” Bastian said, standing.  “He has reasoned it out well, I think.”

“Your opinion is noted,” Roland said, icily. “I doubt it can be that simple.”

“You have yet to make an offer,” Kazrack said. 

“I plan to be patient with my prey,” Roland said, going over to lay on the divan.

The day waned.  There was more talk of the question, but the Keepers of the Gate never got very far from the answer offered by Kazrack.  After a couple of hours, Martin wandered back down to the library, preferring the company of the books.

Dinner appeared as suddenly as it had the night before, and it was just as delicious, with two twenty-five pound roasted turkey, and slices of perfect ham topped with a sweet golden fruit that complimented it amazingly.  The Keepers of the Gate ate in near silence, just eating and drinking hungrily.  Occasionally, Abderus would ask some little question, which they would answer succinctly and then go back to eating.

When the meal was over, and the dishes had cleared themselves, as Roland walked over to help himself to another bottle of wine off the rack, Abderus asked for their answer.

Kazrack spoke up. “I do not think an answer can be given.”

“Oh?” 

“But if we must give an answer, we say that the hatchling still lives,” Kazrack said.

“Which is it?” 

“Which is what?” Kazrack’s brow furrowed.

“Which is the answer?” Abderus asked.

“It is alive,” the dwarf replied.

“Why do you say that?” Abderus asked.

“Because it had to be alive to crack its shell and it is newly hatched,” Kazrack explained.

“I am sorry,” Abderus deep voice grew sad in their minds. “But that is not a satisfactory answer. I cannot allow you access to the Key Room.”

Roland glowered at Kazrack, and Ratchis let out an exasperated sigh.

“Wait! Just like that?” complained Logan.

“What was the answer then?” asked Kazrack.

“I cannot say,” Abderus replied. “But I shall give you another chance.  Tomorrow I will ask you another question and I will retrieve the answer from you at dinner. Perhaps your answer to that one will show me what it is I should do.”

“And how long will you riddle us?” Kazrack asked.

“Who said this was a riddle?” Abderus said, waves of confusion flowed through them as the words echoed in their minds.

And then Roland heard Abderus’ voice continue in his mind, “No one else can hear me right now,” he said. “I would like to speak with you a moment, if that is okay?”

Roland nodded.

The shedu bid them sleep well and then disappeared, but Roland continued to feel his presence in his mind.

“I wanted to talk to you about Bastian,” the shedu says. “There is an item you have in your possession that was meant for him to have.  Did Chochokpi tell you?”

“Yes, he did,” Roland replied. (7)

“I wanted to ask you to give it to him,” Abderus said.  “If the tree says it was to be his, it might be best to give it to him.”

“But we have not decided if we will allow him to join us, and the robe needs to be returned to Chochokpi in the future,” Roland said.

“I see, but have you asked yourself who are you to change time?  Was that not Hurgun’s hubrus?” the shedu asked. “I know things are different than how they might have been or in another way of looking at it, the way they never were… But if in some small way you can help align this time with the time Chochokpi spoke of, would it not be helpful?  And if Bastian was honorable and trustworthy in some future that may never be, a past only Chochokpi could remember, does it not stand to reason that he is honorable and trustworthy now?  Do you not trust your own judgment?”

“A judgment I have not made yet,” Roland said.

“It is still your judgment,” Abderus replied.

Roland was silent for a time, as Abderus continued.  “And if you do this I shall grant you a gift, something to replace the robe that might even be more useful to you.” 

“I shall think and pray on it,” Roland said.

“It is all I can ask,” Abderus said solemnly, and then his presence was absent from the Bastite’s mind.


_*Day Four in the Pocket Dimensional Realm of Topaline*_

Breakfast awaited them once again when they awoke in the morning.  This time it was pomegranates and white grape juice, with steaming hot prune tarts and a bitter hot black beverage that Kazrack took to.

“It reminds me of Kafka,” Kazrack said. “But not as good.”

“It’s coffee,” Roland said, rolling his eyes.

Abderus appeared and soon he was telling them the next question. “There was a man who treated his son like a servant. And poorly at that.  He beat him and gave him only the scraps of the fine dinners he would eat himself.  He gave his son the worst and most menial jobs and never showed him an ounce of trust, except to say, ‘You are free to go whenever you please.  Ask for it and you will get your due inheritance in gold and you may be on your way.’  His son never took this offer.  The question is, was this man’s son a slave?”

Logan rolled his eyes.

“I shall return with the dinner hour to hear your answer,” Abderus said, and he was gone.

“Well, this one will be much easier,” Kazrack said, turning to Ratchis.  “D’nar will have the answer.”

“I will?”

“Is not your goddess concerned with freedom and emancipation from slavery?  Who else would know the answer if not you?” the dwarf reasoned.

“As much as it pains me to admit this, Kazrack has a point,” Roland said.

“Nephthys teaches that it is not always easy to see the chains that hold a man in bondage,” Ratchis said. “I cannot look into this man’s heart to know from hearing a story.”

“And so we end up at a very similar place to where we were with the first question,” Kazrack said. “We have to guess an answer because there is no way to reason one with the information given.”

“Well, the essence of the question is, ‘what makes a slave a slave?’” Roland said. “If we can answer that we can give Abderus an answer.”

“So how does the church of Nephthys define a slave?” Kazrack asked.

“The church does not _define_ anything,” Ratchis explained. “Friars of Nephthys work in closed networks for as long as it is agreeable to them.  There is no codified law.  There is no hierarchy in the church for one person to have the power to define anything for anybody else.”

“I do not want to insult your church, D’nar, but…” Kazrack began.

“Then don’t,” Ratchis spat back.

 “But you must have an opinion, Ratchis,” Roland brought the discussion back to the matter at hand.

“Hmm, well… If he could leave and he really could take a means to support himself or at least get started in the form of the inheritance then he was free and maybe he only chose to stay out of duty,” Ratchis speculated.  “Nephthys also teaches that friendship and duty are to be honored because they are obligations taken on willingly.”

Dorn nodded.

“Could he not be a mental slave?” Roland asked. “Could he not have been beaten and cowed into submission and his father’s offer was just another means to mock him and ridicule his powerlessness?”

“How can you even suggest that a father would treat his son that way,” Kazrack argued, thinking of his own father back in Verdun.  “That is barbarity you are talking about.”

“Even the most cultured civilization has barbarity at its heart,” Roland said.  “Worship of Bast accepts and honors that wildness as well.”

“Great, another religion lesson,” Logan said.

The discussion went on for some time with Kazrack, Roland, Martin and Ratchis taking turns exploring possible examples that might fit the scenario and determining what the answer might be based on that.

By the time dinner came, they were annoyed with the question and with each other and hurriedly agreed on an answer.  Roland only agreed grudgingly.

Near bursting from another delicious dinner, they gathered about Abderus to tell him their answer.

“We believe,” Kazrack said.  “That the man was no slave. If he could leave then he was free, but was bound by a something he chose to take on.”

Roland groaned.

“What?” Kazrack protested. “That is what we agreed on.”

“Yes…” Roland sighed.

“You do not agree?” Abderus asked Roland 

“Not really. No,” the Bastite responded.

“This answer will not be satisfactory,” Abderus said, sending waves of disappointment with his telepathic words. “I will be unable to grant you access to the Key Room.”

“Abderus, is this really necessary?” Kazrack asked.

“I am afraid it is,” Abderus replied.  “Tomorrow I will ask you one last question and at dinner you may answer it.  After that, you will have to make your way back to the portal and return to Aquerra or you will miss your appointment with the Maze.”

“So, we do not need the Key Room to get in, then?” Ratchis asked.

“The likelihood exists that you would not need to, however slim.”

“So the Key Room would make it easier, right?” Roland asked.

Abderus nodded in his own awkward way, not having much of a neck.  He left them to their sleep, disappearing again.  Martin the Green went back down to study more spells and lore in the library.  He was learning quite a bit about portals and other planes.  Kazrack busied himself with his king’s men pieces, while Ratchis was mostly bored, practicing his reading with a book Martin had lent him. (8)

Roland grabbed two of the last four bottles of wine on the rack and two cups and asked Bastian to join him down in the library’s second floor.

“Are you going to question me some more?” Bastian asked with an almost defeated tone.

“No, I thought I might answer some of your questions,” Roland replied. “I mean, if you are going to come with us to Hurgun’s Maze, it will probably be best that you know everything you can about it.”

*End of Session #85*

-------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1) *DM’s Note:* The slaadi found out the hard way what the PCs had already figured out, which was that nothing could be summoned in this pocket plane.

(2) *DM’s Note:* Since Martin’s player missed this session, I ruled that he would take off the ring to partake in what might be the last good meal of his life (and receive the benefits of the _Heroes’ Feast_ spell). Upon his return, Martin’s player pointed out that the seven days of wearing needed for the sustenance part of the ring to take effect had not passed yet. (The benefits of keeping a calendar).

(3) Dralmohir is the kingdom of the undead that was once a dwarven mountain stronghold.  It is located east of the Little Kingdoms, on the border of the Principality of Rhondria in Derome-Delem.

(4) ‘The Mystics’ did not revere the gods, and had no priests among their kind.  Later, when their civilization was about to die off, many of their ascetics began dedicating themselves to Powers both for good and evil.

(5) Devils are a hierarchy of fiends that constructed the realms of Hell from the Abyss that surrounds it.

(6) In 562 H.E., Gothanius destroyed most of the Fir-Hagre orc tribe and routed any others in the area, taking control of Greenreed Valley.

(7) See last session

(8) *DM’s Note:* Ratchis’ player was able to use a saved skilled point for one rank in Literacy (common) after having started here in there over the course of the campaign, and then declaring he was really buckling down and getting lessons from Martin while in Nikar.


----------



## el-remmen

Wow, that was a long one.  

Originally, I had broken it up into two shorter updates, but this time I was feeling lazy and just posted up all 17 pages from the Word .doc.

Session #86 is coming up. . .


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #86 (complete)* 

_*Day Five in the Pocket Dimensional Realm of Topaline*_

“Bastian? That robe you’re wearing looks familiar,” Martin said at breakfast.  Ratchis and Kazrack shoved syrup-soaked saucer-sized flapjacks into their mouths.

“It is the _Robe of the Wayfarer_,” Roland answered for the bearded man.  The gleam of the red suns and the sheen of the ocean gave everything in the round room a stark look.  “I gave it to him last night when I explained to him what we know of Hurgun’s Maze.”

“What!?” Ratchis choked out bits of food and slammed his huge fist on the marble table.  He stood.

”No point in getting mad, Ratchis,” Roland said. “What’s done is done.”

“How can you make a decision that affects everyone on your own?” the Friar retorted.

“When there is no leader to make final decisions, then anyone in the group’s choice might be the final one on a matter,” Roland explained.

Ratchis stalked out of the room, but Roland would not let it lie and followed the half-orc down to the first floor.  The muted words of their heated conversation wafting up to the others.

“I am sorry,” Bastian said, turning to the others.  “I did not know that I was being given some kind of privileged information, but now that I know it I am even more determined to aid you in your quest.”

“It’s okay.  This is just something Roland and Ratchis have to work out,” Martin said.

“I will never understand Roland, but…” Kazrack said, turning to Bastion and pointing a fork at him.  “I want _you_ to understand that if you betray us I will hunt you to my last breath.”

“I understand,” Bastian said, fighting a smile.

“Oh, and did Roland explain that you cannot use any of the patches on that robe?” Martin said.

“Hmmm?” Bastian looked up from his flapjacks.

“Each patch can only be used once and then it is discarded, but in the future it needs to be given back to Chochokpi in the condition we got it in, or else we risk a paradox, since then it would not be the same as when we get it in the past,” the watch-mage explained.

“Uh…” Bastian was confused.

”Just don’t use the patches,” Martin said.  “Trust me, it would be bad.”

Downstairs, Roland continued to badger Ratchis.

“My point is, _you_ are the leader.  You are.  Everyone in the group looks to you for guidance, and Dorn practically worships you, and you’re pretty hideous, so he must really mean it.”

Ratchis stared daggers down into the still smiling Bastite.  The half-orc loomed over the petite priest.

“I know that you are resistant to the idea of leading because of your faith and not wanting to tell people what to do,” Roland continued.  “But if even the dwarf is willing to listen to the half-orc then you have earned the respect necessary to be a leader.”

Ratchis looked down and his body relaxed a bit.

“I admired your deft use of votes to stall the decision regarding coming here to search for the Key Room, and then your manipulation of them to get us here, which is what I think you wanted all along, but it wasn’t a necessary move,” Roland explained.  “If you had told the others to come here, we would have just come here…” (1)

“What does this have to do with Bastian?” Ratchis asked.

“Well, since you are unwilling to lead the group in decision-making I made my own personal decision, since I had no leader’s word to go against,” Roland winked.  “Look, I am not saying to be a slave-driver, and people are still going to do what they feel they must based on their own faith and conscience, I know I will… But you respect that about them, and that too make you a good leader.”

“But I am not good with words…”

“When it comes to talking to people, let me or Martin do it, in fact, just let me do it,” the Bastite winked again. “But when it comes to being in the middle of a life and death struggle to save Derome-Delem, chances are if you yell to do something, I’m going to do it.  I may be flighty, but I’m not stupid.”

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

Back upstairs, Abderus appeared with a hearty “good morning” ringing in all their minds.  Kazrack grimaced.

“Good morning, Abderus,” Martin greeted the Shedu. “Before you asked your question I wanted to ask you a few things about specific features of Hurgun’s Maze that I wanted to compare to a vision I had that supposedly took place in the future.” (2)

“I am sorry, but I cannot,” Abderus  replied.

“Because you are forbidden to tell me?” Martin asked.

“Because I have never been inside Hurgun’s Maze, and thus can tell you nothing of it,” Abderus said, real regret permeating his every telepathic word.  “Are you ready for the final question?”

The Keepers of the Gate nodded warily.

“If I offered to show you the Key Room and explain everything about it that I know,” Abderus paused.  “Would you be willing to leave one of you behind to guard the library and the Key Room in my stead and take over my duty for however long, knowing that you would not die of old age no matter how long it was, but that the wait might change you irrevocably nonetheless?”

The party was silent in response.

 “I shall return at the dinner hour,”  And with that the shedu disappeared again.

“Given what’s ahead of me, I would rather stay, but I can’t…” Martin sighed.

“You can’t stay,” Ratchis said.

‘That’s what  I said,” Martin snapped.

“I was reminding you,” the half-orc replied.

“I would do it, but I honestly fear the loneliness would  drive me mad,” Roland said.

“Bastian should stay,” Kazrack offered.

“I would stay if that is what is needed of me to aid you and help Gothanius,” Bastian offered quietly. “And while I think I would be of greater benefit in some other role, what’s a hundred years, give or take?  But first, let’s consider the other options.  If other options are still open that is.”

“None of us can stay, by accepting these items from Chochokpi we have locked ourselves into a destiny,” Martin said.  “We may have to go the Maze without visiting the Key Room, after all.”

“That is absurd!” Roland protested. “After everything we went through to get here?  It is out of the questions.  If someone has to stay, then someone will stay.”

“Just not poor lonely you, right?” Logan snipped.

“I don’t see you offering to stay,” Roland shot back.

“That’s because I’m not staying,” Logan replied. “But I am not going to insist someone else do so.”

“No one who Chochokpi said he saw in the Maze in the future can stay here,” Ratchis reasoned.

“Well, that leaves either Dorn or Ro…” Martin stopped.  “We are being scryed.” (3)

The watch-mage pointed out where the scrying sensor was hovering invisibly by Kazrack’s head.
“Great Queen Bast, please claw from our presence this nefarious magic,” Roland cast _dispel magic_, but the sensor was still there.

“Who do you think it is?” Kazrack asked, walking away from it.

“It follows you,” Martin informed the dwarf.  He concentrated to determine who was behind the spell, but he was blocked.

“Me? Why me?” 

“It could be the undead creature we fought at the gate,” Ratchis said. “It knew Kazrack fairly well.”

“Could Richard the Red scry us here?” Kazrack asked.

“He could, but it’d be more difficult for him,” Martin explained. 

“It never seemed very difficult for him in the past,” Roland said.

“Very well, I shall go into the library for a bit,” Kazrack said.  “Continue the discussion of Abderus’ question without me.  You know where I stand.”

“Always,” Roland whispered. “Like a stone.”

“I think you are all taking this too literally,” Bastian said.  “You all talk like one of us will really have to stay.  We can be _willing_ to stay without actually being asked to stay.”

“That’s deceptive,” Martin said.

“Too deceptive,” Ratchis agreed. “That is not the kind of answer or attitude that is going to convince Abderus to let us into the Key Room.”

“I’ll stay,” said Dorn.

He was met with silence.

”I am the least needed to overcome the dangers in Hurgun’s Maze, and Chochokpi did not know me from the past…uh, I mean, future. So…”

“It is very mature of you to accept that, “ Roland said to Dorn. “You should be very proud of him, Ratchis.”

Dorn frowned.

“I am,” Ratchis replied.  “Not in a fatherly kind of way, but as a friend.”  He shook his cohort’s hand and squeezed his shoulder.

“Kazrack, you may return!” Martin called down to the dwarf.

The sensor was gone when the dwarf returned. “It seems like our scryer became bored of your inactivity,” Martin commented.

“Have you come to a decision?” Kazrack asked.

“Dorn is staying,” Ratchis said.

“I would rather not leave anyone behind, but if someone must stay behind it should be me,” the dwarf said. “I am longer lived, and if Dorn did survive everyone he knows could be dust when he was released.”

“We have already explained why those of us Chochokpi knew cannot stay,” Martin said.

“I mistrust this shedu,” Kazrack complained. “I mistrust anyone who wields such powerful magic and feels it can test us as it likes, making up its own rules.”

“If the gods accepted the shedu into their company there is little we can say against them,” Martin said.

“Not the dwarven gods…” Kazrack mumbled.

“The choice has been made and we are all behind it, Kazrack,” Ratchis said.

“I will defer to your wisdom, D’nar,” Kazrack said, and Roland threw a wink at the half-orc.  “However, I promise you Dorn, that when we are done with Hurgun’s Maze, I will come back to take your place.”

Dorn nodded.  “If you ever run in to Bones or Flora, please let them know where I am.” (4)

A decision having been made, Martin the Green went back to the library to complete his studies and put the final notes together for three spells he had learned. (5)

The day went on with preparations for the journey back to the gatehouse and through the portal to Aquerra.  They all looked forward to the last great meal Abderus would provide them that night before asking for their answer.  

The dinner itself was a whole roasted shark stuffed with crab meat and peppers.  There were raw oysters and steamed clams, and huge charred shrimps on wooden spears.  The Keepers of the Gate thoroughly enjoyed it and drank a great deal of wine.

Soon, Abderus appeared.

“Are you ready to give me an answer?” the shedu asked telepathically.

“Yes, we are,” Martin the Green replied.  “We would be willing to leave someone behind for the knowledge you offered us.  As difficult as it would be, success is crucial and this would only be the first of many sacrifices I fear we will have to make before this is all over with.”

“I see…” Abderus began. “And who is it that will stay?”

Dorn looked at Ratchis and then to Martin and then stepped forward.

“I will stay and take your place for however long is needed,” Dorn said.  “I would say that this is too important to let my own desires get in the way, but the truth is I _want_ to do this. I _want_ to help and this may be the best way to accomplish that.”

“Very well,” Abderus replied. “You may ascend into the Key Room, he gestured with his head to the steep metal stair to the level above.  I shall meet you there.”  And with that, the shedu disappeared.

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

The Keepers of the Gate found the windowless room was lit only by a widening shaft of light that emanated from the top of a tall round pedestal.  It was made of white stone and the thick rounded top was etched with golden runes about its perimeter.  It was four feet in diameter.  Abderus stood beside it bathed in its light, flicking his tail occasionally.

“Gather around it and place your hands between the large runes,” Abderus instructed.  The party obeyed, standing with their face in the light, looking down into the recessed top of the pedestal.  From this angle it looked more like a font or fountain, with a pool of blue-green water within it. “Now visualize Derome-Delem.”

Ratchis thought of the beautiful mountains and rivers he had seen in his time in the wilderness, while Roland thought of the white cliffs of Nikar.  Kazrack imagined the great dwarven halls of his youth, while Logan saw Alexandra the Lavender’s tower in Bountiful.  Dorn thought of the bridge where he lost so many of his friends, while Bastian remembered Greenreed Valley as it was when he would sometimes hunt there when younger.

The water in the font began to cloud over and then it cleared again, showing a topographical view of Derome-Delem from miles above.  Clouds wandered aimlessly across the scene.

“Now I want you to think about Hurgun’s Maze,” Abderus said to them in their minds.

“But we don’t know what it looks like,” Kazrack complained.  The water in the font wavered for a moment, as did the image of Derome-Delem within it.

“It matters not,” Abderus replied. “Think on it.  The lock shall attune to you, recognizing you as beings of Aquerra and it shall appear to you as it would in that realm.”

The Keepers of the Gate filled their minds with the questions, speculation and legends about Hurgun’s Maze they had heard or thought of since first hearing of the place.  Martin the Green inwardly traced the rune of Hurgun that he has seen many times while studying at the Academy. (6)

The image of Derome-Delem zoomed in until the oceans disappeared, and the craggy darkness of mountains came into view and then the image shifted.  Suddenly there was the form of an enclosed fortress of black stone upon a plain of blood red sand cracked by veins of fire. Volcanoes exploded in the distance. (7)  The image changed again, and a snaking gray column of cloud flew through an endless blue sky, (8) and then exploded into white revealing a forest of trees that only Chochokpi could dwarf.  Among the trees ran a bizarre sight.  It was a huge thatched hut that ran atop two great chicken legs.  It hopped over fallen logs and stepped left and right past trees and brush deftly. (9) Suddenly, the view began to shift flying up and away from the trees, and wavering until it came back into focus.  There was the recognizable great ringed ridge that made Greenreed Valley.  The southeastern section was cracked into a great smoking crater.  There was a dull red glow visible through the mist. But then the scene changed again, this time it was a pointed spire of coral in a seemingly endless sea, orbited by great schools of brilliant fish. (10)  Finally, the form in the blue-green water returned to the vision of  Greenreed Valley from above, however something was different.  The area of the ridge called the amphitheatre (11) was gone, and where it should have been was a great chasm separating the ridge from a raised castle upon an island of stone. It had a jagged wall facing the ridge and four great towers in a zig-zag pattern above it. Each of the towers had stone statue of some kind made to represent one of the four basic elements. (12)

“It is opening,” said Abderus.  The image disappeared.

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

Afterwards, back downstairs, Roland cracked open the last bottle of wine in the rack and everyone drank some (except for Abderus, of course). 

“Thank you for your help,” Martin said to the shedu.  “Will the fortress appear as we saw it when we return?”

“It may take some time for the energies invoked to reach the proper place,” Abderus explained. “So it should appear just as you return, or soon after, assuming you head back to the gate and through the other side and arrive without delay.”

“Perhaps we should go now,” Kazrack suggested.

“It may be unwise to try the streets at night,” Abderus warned.  “There are worse things than shadows out there.”

“Thank you for everything,” Ratchis said.


_*Day Six in the Pocket Dimensional Realm of Topaline*_

“Where will you go now, Abderus?” Martin the Green asked, as the Keepers of the Gate made ready to leave, and give their good-byes to both the shedu and to Dorn.

“Go? Where would I go?”

“Is not Dorn taking your place?” the watch-mage asked.

“No, no… I would never lay such a burden on another,” the shedu said. “It would not be proper. I just needed you to believe that someone would have to stay.”

“I see,” Martin nodded.  Kazrack grunted his disapproval.

“Good luck, and if you can, please send Hurgun to me,” Abderus said to Ratchis, Roland, Kazrack, Martin, Logan and Dorn.

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

As the Keepers of the Gate settled down for the night, Roland head Abderus telepathic voice instructing him to a hidden niche in the library.  There, the Bastite found a ring of plated white gold and set with five shining white diamonds.

“It is the gift I promised you,” Abderus said. “It is called the _Ring of Alacrity_ and it will work for you even when you have taken you feline form.” (14)

Roland thanked the shedu profusely.


_*Day Six in the Pocket Dimensional Realm of Topaline*_

A long debate the night before about how to travel the streets of the abandoned city back to the gate boiled down to the Keepers of the Gate jogging while Kazrack ran to keep up.  The _Wurfel Kraft_ would be saved for an emergency, as it did not seem very conducive to escape.  Topaline’s three suns seemed hotter on this day, and sweat clung to their bodies as they jogged.  Roland panting in panther-form.  They nearly made it to the gatehouse unmolested, but as they crossed an open courtyard beneath the outer wall, five of the strange green-hued zombies came rushing out of the side streets to block their way, while three more moved in front of the gate that led from the street to the gatehouse courtyard.

Bastian grunted as he felt a spear bite into his side from a narrow darkened street. He spun around to see exactly where the spear came from just as the zombies before the group charged into their midst. The bearded warrior felt his chainshirt turn most of the blow to his back, but he could already feel the bruise developing as he was knocked face first to the ground.

Roaring, Kazrack charged past the attacking zombies, hurrying towards the ones at the gate.  Ratchis cut one down easily, while Roland clawed ineffectually at another.

“_Immobiliarum Necrorum!_ Martin chanted, crushing a bit of sulfur and half a clove of garlic in his hand.   The four remaining zombies froze in place, but two more joined the fray from each side.  “Ignore the frozen ones!  Attacking them will break the spell!”

Ratchis cleaved into one of the arriving zombies and drove it to the ground, where it struggled to get back up.  Bastian rolled up to his feet and then spoke in words that Roland and Martin recognized as dwarvish, “Fire! Send me some of your essence!”  A flame the size and brightness of a torch appeared in his right hand.  He threw it at a zombie, but it ducked deftly and the flame burst against the ground to no effect.  Another flame appeared in the strange man’s hand.

The zombie on the ground sprung at Ratchis, slamming the half-orc in the chin with a hard fist, but the ranger shoved it off and cut its legs out from under it, sending it to the ground permanently.

Meanwhile, Roland and Dorn had hurried past to support Kazrack, who faced three zombies on his own.  The Bastite spun around flanking one of the zombies as he tore out its calf with a panther’s bite.  Dorn cleaved its head open as it fell, and Kazrack cut down another.

Logan cut down another zombie as flames from another of Bastian’s tossed fire licked up its desiccated body.  He then ran to join the others at the gate.  Martin the Green hurried after him.

The last zombie was hacked to pieces when it was surrounded by the whole group, save Martin who watched the rear, and Logan who climbed up to the top of the low wall enclosing the courtyard, and sat there to help people over.  The gate was locked.

“Come on, I’ll help you over!” Logan called down.

“I can just use _the First Key_ to _knock_ the gate,” Ratchis said.

Roland leapt over the wall with one bound and simply pushed the bar off the gate from the other side, opening.

“Hurry! Those zombies will be unfrozen any moment now,” Martin warned.

There was ‘pop’ in the air above Roland and one of the small strange creatures with their over-sized heads, big dewy black eyes, and spindly limbs with over-sized hands and feet that ended in yellowed claws appeared above him.  “Noggle! Noggle!” It cried as it clawed into the panther with all four limbs.

“Those annoying things are back!” Logan warned, jumping down off the wall to help Roland.  Ratchis kicked the gates open and he and Kazrack rushed in. Dorn followed closely behind.

All it took was one blow of Ratchis’ great sword with the increased strength his new belt gave him and the strange creature’s head was flying free from the rest of its body, spraying its black oily blood in all directions.  

Dorn hurried ahead to check the gate to the passage through the gatehouse and out to the bridge, but found it bolted.  He called back to Ratchis to let him know as everyone else came through the gate, Martin closing it behind them.  The watch-mage followed this up by casting _mirror image_.  Suddenly, there were six images of Martin shifting around and mimicking his actions some slightly ahead, some behind and some perfectly in synch.  It was very confusing.

“Martin, why are there so many of you?” Kazrack asked.

“DO NOT THINK THAT SUCH SIMPLE MAGIC WILL FOOL ME!” came the booming voice the Keepers recognized as the skeletal sculptor they had met when first arriving in the city. (13)  They looked up and saw it standing up on the catwalk that connected the gatehouse tower.  “BUT I AM FEELING GENEROUS AND WILL ALLOW SOME OF YOU TO GO AND NEVER COME BACK, BUT FIRST… THE PRICE!”

It gestured with its boney right hand and Kazrack, Dorn and Roland disappeared.

*End of Session #86*


----------



## el-remmen

-------------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	See session #81

(2)	Martin is referring to the vision he had when he first touched the Book of Black Circles in the sunken dwarven temple beneath the Pit of Bones. See session #62

(3)	Martin casts _Detect Scrying_ nearly every day at noon.

(4)	Flora and Bones were part of Dorn’s former adventuring party.  They went their own way in Session #68.  

(5)	Martin learned _Analyze Portal_, _Scramble Portal_ and _Dismissal_, thinking they would be most useful in Hurgun’s Maze.

(6)	At one point in his career, Hurgun of the Stone was Aquerra’s most prolific scriber of scrolls, selling and trading them in numbers usually considered rash in wizardly circles.  Some of the most common fundamental spell forms still taught in Aquerra today are based on spells of his.

(7)	This is the entrance to Hurgun’s Maze when it is in Hell.

(8)	This is the entrance to Hurgun’s Maze when it is on the Elemental Plane of Air.

(9)	This is the entrance to Hurgun’s Maze when it is on an alternate prime.

(10)	This is the entrance to Hurgun’s Maze when it is on the Elemental Plane of Water.

(11)	For a map of Greenreed Valley and the surrounding area, check: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Map+-+Kingdom+of+Gothanius+(and+south+and+west)

(12)	*DM’s Note:* Allowed the players some time to copy an incomplete map of what the fortress looked like, but explained it would be the only time they would get to see the original, so they should make as good a map as they could.  This represented the PCs making the best map they could  from what the remembered of the vision of the place.  I don’t have the map they created, perhaps one of the players still does and we can get it scanned.

(13)	See session #83

(14)	For more on the Ring of Alacrity see the aquerra.wiki here.


----------



## el-remmen

One more half a session and we'll be caught up to where we were when the boards got corrupted. . .


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #87 (part i)*

Roland did not remember going to sleep, but this certainly felt like a dream.

Roland found himself sitting before a great pyramid atop a hill covered in lush jungle. The pyramid was made of great golden bricks, and it had outer tiers upon which crawling, pounced, played and slept thousands of cats of all kinds and sizes.  He was separated from the pyramid by a broken stone bridge, but the gap was not so great that thought he’d have any trouble bounding over it.  He could hear the rush of water echoing up from far down below. But in front of the gap sat a fascinating creature that looked up at him

The creature had the body of a lion, but the upper body and head of a human woman.  She had long golden hair, pouty lips and dark eyes. She was buxom and bare-breasted, but seemed to have no sense of shame.  She rolled her eyes and licking the side of her paw, brushed it through her locks.

Roland got down on one knee and looked down.  He knew her to be celestial gynosphinx of a high order that served Bast directly.

“Roland Aramesia.  You are between moments.  You are in the space between where you were and where you will be, and by be grace of our queen and goddess I have plucked you here to give you a message,” the sphinx’s voice seemed as golden as her hair, but there was a muted sinister echo to it as well.

“Whatever I might do to further the will of my goddess,” Roland replied reverently.  “I am unworthy of even the slightest bit of her attentions.”

“Humility does not suit you, Bastite,” the sphinx replied. “But you will have to forget your pride lest it obscure your vision and the scent on the wind.  You are involved in weighty matters, but it may fall to you to see what others cannot or will not.  The conflicts that brew in the Little Kingdoms may have far more wide-ranging repercussions. And it is not only the forces of good and evil that will be set against each other, but also those of law and chaos, and those are not as easily foreseen.  The choices you and your companions make can influence the shape of things to come, whether it is the smothering security of strength or danger and peril of freedom.  Choose well.”

“But how will I know?” Roland asked.

“The moment is over,” the sphinx said. “A new moment begins.”

-----------------------------------
“AND THAT WAS THE TOLL I EXTRACTED FROM YOU,” said the skeletal figure atop the gatehouse. “SO SAYS I, GANTUS - KEEPER OF THE GATE!  NOW, YOU MAY LEAVE.”

The double doors out to the bridge and out of the city opened of their own accord.

“You will not keep our friends!” Ratchis disagreed, and he ran for the door into the right hand tower. The others followed.

“_Fire, friend, come to me again_,” Bastian chanted in dwarven as they jogged up the narrow steps to the top of the tower, a small lick of flame appeared in his hand again. 

The trapdoor on the right tower burst open as Ratchis leapt out of it. 

“You want to die?  Then die! _Sagitta Magicus!_” Gantus said, pointing at the Friar of Nephthys, and two arrows of bright light slammed into his chest.  But Ratchis was not even slowed, he drew his great sword as he charged, 

Martin leapt out of the trapdoor right after the hulking priest and sent two arrows of flame arcing over Ratchis at Gantus, and the undead thing roared as flames engulfed him, sending tattered flaming bits of his robe to fly off on the wind.

Ratchis hewed bone and sinew as he drove the undead sorcerer back with his great sword.

Bastian had made his way atop the tower as well, and ran beside Ratchis throwing his small ball of fire to burst in the Keeper’s skeletal face.  It shrieked. 

Martin the Green cast _Bull’s Strength_ on Logan as the young warrior hustled past to join the melee.

“SHADOWS OF TOPALINE,” Gantus screeched into the air, leaning back broken and pained on the floor. “I RECIND THE LAWS THAT KEEP YOU FROM ENTERING MY DOMAIN, SO YOU MAY DEAL WITH THESE INTERLOPERS!”

And with that, he promptly disappeared. As two more of the ‘noggles’ appeared above them.  Bastian managed to leap out of the way, but Ratchis caught a claw to the ear.

“Noggle! Noggle noggle!” they cried.  But Ratchis ignored them swinging his sword wildly where the skeleton had been a moment before, convinced it was just invisible.

“It can teleport itself, just like it can others,” Martin said. 

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

Roland found himself in a ten foot by ten foot cell off a narrow hall.  He could see a thick oaken door slightly up the hall to the left.  He willed himself to shrink down to house cat form, and he slipped like a shadow between bars.  Dorn was desperately working to bend the bars of his cell, and failing.

“Roland is that you?” Dorn asked the little cat.

“Meow!” Roland agreed

“Dorn! Use your weapon!” Kazrack called from a cell further down the hall, and then came the echoing ring of his flail against the lock.  Dorn took his hammer from his side and began to bang on the lock to his cell as well.

“Wait!” Dorn cried between blows. “How did you get out last time?”

“By use of a spell that I was not wise enough to prepare this day even though I knew we’d have to come back through here,” Kazrack chastised himself. “Gods!  I am a fool!”

“Boy, I bet Roland wishes he could talk now,” Dorn laughed.

“Meow! Meow!” Roland agreed.

“No!” Kazrack began to fumble desperately through his overstuffed back. “I just remembered I have a crowbar packed away in here!” (1)

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

The head of another of the spindly humanoids went flying off the tower as Ratchis cleaved it off. And Logan stabbed one that bore a burn mark on the side of its head from Bastian’s _produce flame_ through the chest, and then chopped it again to make sure it was dead.

A third of the creatures appeared and clawed at Martin, drawing blood.

“Oh my! Help!” Martin cried.  Bastian stepped over and slammed the thing with his shield, but as he brought his hammer around for a follow up blow, the thing ‘popped’ away and appeared atop the watch-mage again.  There was a rushing sound and Bastian instinctively dove backward.  Green and black flames washed over Martin and the ‘noggle’ lay on the ground charred and shriveled, squealing weakly for a moment before it finally died.

“What the…?” Bastian stepped back.

“It’s okay…” Martin began to explain focusing his will to dispel the arcane flame, but then he saw what Bastian was looking at.  Two shadows came swooping down at the bearded warrior, but he ducked and rolled away. 

“In the name of Nephthys! Foul denizens of the underworld, I free you!” Ratchis cried, whipping his belt of scored and broken links above his head.  The two shadows cackled with delight, and spun around to come by for a second pass.

“_Lentus!_” Martin cast, and one of the shadows now slid like molasses against the sky.  Logan ran past it cutting it through the middle with his long sword, but it came out the other side to no effect.  The shadow reached out and brushed Martin’s cheek and the watch-mage felt just the slightest drain of strength.  He ran for the trapdoor and Logan followed.

“Don’t wander off,” Logan called after him.

Bastian was not so fast a second time and the felt the cold touch of the other shadow even as his own weapon passed through without effect. 

Having called to Nephthys to bless his great sword, Ratchis felt the satisfying tug on his blade as he brought it through the creature.  The temporary magic of his sword had torn at the essence of the creature.  He had hurt it.  

They came swooping at him again, and again he swung even as he felt their cold strength-draining touch.  However, this time the satisfying tug was followed by the shadow dwindling away to nothing.  Bastian stepped in close to distract the remaining shadow, putting himself at risk, but allowing Ratchis two more devastating blows that destroyed it as well.

“We need to go find the others!” Martin said, poking his head back up through the trapdoor.

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

Roland, Dorn and Kazrack listened at the door out of the dungeons, leaving two pried open cells behind them.  Hearing nothing, they crept up the hall beyond towards the great chamber Gantus seemed to use as a studio for his twisted sculptures.  They listened before entering the room and heard the sound of squeaking metal and a door open from the right side of the chamber.

“NOW TO DEAL WITH THOSE PESKY PRISONERS,” Gantus said, seeming unable to but give voice to his thoughts.

“You should have fled, fiend!” Kazrack cried, charging out of the hall halberd first and shattering the undead’s pelvic bone.  

A burst of searing holy light exploded from the tiny black kitten and Gantus shrieked as his bones turned to powder and he was soon nothing more than a pile of dust atop some tattered rags.

Kazrack spit on it and then looked up and around.

“You think there is anything else in here we might need?” Kazrack asked, noticing the creature’s silver diadem with inset diamond he had just spit on and stowing it in his pack.

“Not unless we need dismembered hands,” Dorn replied.

The three of them made their way through the small door Gantus hand come through and found the back side of a secret door at the top of narrow steps that let out on the ground floor of the right tower.

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

Back in the courtyard the others were frustrated by their inability to find Kazrack, Roland and Dorn.

“We should keep looking,” Martin said.  “There is probably a secret door.”

Bastian nodded.

“He could have sent them anywhere,” Ratchis said.  “Last time Kazrack reappeared in the sky and fell. Maybe it will happen again.  Let’s wait and be alert, maybe we can catch him this time.”

Bastian nodded.

“No offense, but I’d rather let him fall,” Logan said. “He’s bound to still get hurt and end up hurting us if we try to catch him.”

“Do what you want,” Ratchis replied.

“There will be no falling,” Kazrack said jovially as he came out of the tower, Dorn and Roland (now back in human form) behind him.  “The undead fiend has been destroyed.”

“And we killed the last of his annoying minions,” said Logan.  “Let’s go.”

The Keepers of the Gate marched out of the city across the bridge and made their way up to the gold-rune-covered black obelisk on the side of the black roacky outcropping.

“Do we just touch it to go back?” asked Ratchis.

“Allow me a moment,” Martin the Green said, pushing up his sleeves to cast _analyze portal_. Bastian allowed his hawk to take off and circle the island of stone and stretch his wings for the first time since they had arrived in Topaline.

“Hmmm, the conditions and specifics about how this portal works are rather intricate,” Martin said. “But the nature of the rift in the planes in this area has upset the delicate balance of how it works.  We should be able to simply return by joining hands and tracing that rune.” He pointed.

“Okay then…” Kazrack said.

“But,” Martin continued.  “There is an aspect of balance to how often it lets people through.  No one else can go back through until we’ve gone through.”

“So I can go through?” Bastian asked. “Because I didn’t come through this way.”

“How did you get here?” Ratchis asked the bearded man.

“I was brought here,” was all he said.

“As long as you go last you should be fine, but no one will be able to come back here until Bastian has passed back through or someone has reset the portal from this side,” Martin went on to explain.

“That works out perfectly,” Ratchis said.  “We don’t want anyone coming back here and trying to harm Abderus to get to the Key Room.”

The Keepers of the Gate held hands in a line, Bastian at the rear, his hawk tucked uncomfortably under his coat, and Martin reached out and traced the rune pronouncing it.  Suddenly the strange world of Topaline went away.

There was nothing.  Not light, nor sensation of moving, not even a sense of a body.  Just cold eternal in all directions. An eternity passed and there was a square of light and the slightest sense of self in a rigid, frozen body tumbling in an inky void.  The square grew bigger until the light was all there was.  

Suddenly, the Keepers of the Gate felt themselves crash heavily onto a rubble strewn floor. They gasped in harsh air and tried to disentangle themselves, blinded again as they had been the first time through. (2)

“Someone turn on a light,” Bastian said.

“You’re blind,” Ratchis said.  “We all are.  We just have to wait it out.”

And wait it out they did.  Less than ten minutes later they were making their back through the caverns and catacombs to the temple of Bast above.

--------------------------------
*Notes*

(1)	*DM’s Note:* You know that moment that happens at least once a campaign where you comb your character sheet looking for something, anything to help?  This was one of those.

(2)	See Session #82


----------



## el-remmen

Ok, we're at to where we were when the boards went down. . I don't remember the exact date the update happened, but since the file was last modified on the 3rd, I choose the 4th, that seems right.

Expect another update (of brand new material) late tonight or sometime tomorrow.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #87 (part ii)*

Teflem, the 27th of Keent – 565 H.E.

“Oh! You’re here!” Richard the Red said with real delight as the Keepers of the Gate marched up the narrow hall into the pantry.  Razzle was balancing a chair on two legs while he stood with on foot on the back rest and one on the seat.  He was repeatedly drawing his rapier and performing some maneuver and then sheathing it again with impressive speed.  Cordell looked up from where he was writing in a journal.

“Bastian!” Richard cried when he saw the bearded warrior step out of the shadows of the hallway.  “What a surprise!  Five go in and six come out! How did this happen?”

Roland looked from Richard to Bastian and his eyes narrowed.   Martin the Green dropped his pack and then plopped into a chair exhaustedly. 

“You know each other?” Kazrack asked.

“Richard was a frequent visitor to Thorad-Klen when I stayed with them,” Bastian said.  “He was a friend of the chieftain and the shaman.”

“Thorad-Klen? That sounds almost dwarven,” Kazrack said.

“It is… Kind of…” Bastian said by way of explanation. (1)

“What were you doing in Thorad-Klen?” Martin asked his fellow watch-mage.

“It pays to know all kinds of people, Martin,” Richard winked.

“How long were we gone?” Ratchis asked.

“You weren’t gone all that long,” Richard said, scratching under the rings of his auburn beard.

“How long?” asked Ratchis, who dropped his pack to the ground.

“Little less than a day and a half,” Richard replied.  The party let go a collective sigh.  “I am more than a little curious about what exactly lays on the other side of the portal.  Do enlighten us.”

“Yes,” Cordell said, dipping his quill in a bottle of ink. “I will make note of it for the archives of the Church of Thoth.”

“That’s nice,” Roland said, clucking his tongue.  “But we can discuss it upstairs.”

“That _paladin_ is still up there, dutifully fulfilling the promise he made to you,” Richard the Red said.  “It is best we talk down here out of his ear shot.  No need for him to know too much.”




The Keepers of the Gate agreed and recounted a fast and loose version of the events in Topaline.  

“What do you think that skeletal sorcerer was?” Richard asked Martin.

“I thought it might be a lich, but aside from its ability to teleport people away, its magical power seemed limited,” Martin said.

“You should check the diadem you said you found on it and make it is not a phylactery,” Richard said.  “The lich’s spirit might be housed there waiting for a chance possess someone.”

Kazrack fetched the diadem from his pack and a quick _detect magic_ allayed their fears.

“And Bastian, how did you get there?  Did you take the aid of some fiend?” Richard asked with a wide smile.

“Fiend? No.  It was no fiend,” Bastian said with a straight face. (2)

“Has there been any word from Norena?” Roland changed the subject.

“No,” Richard replied, and Razzle shook his head sadly.

The priest of Bast attempted a _sending_ to his fellow priest, but there was no response.

”We can’t waste any more time,” Ratchis said.  “We need to go to the appointed spot on the ridge and wait for the proper time.  These things aren’t exact.”

“We need to find Norena,” Roland complained.  “She has been gone six days and her companions do not seem the least bit upset.”

“Norena is big girl,” Richard the Red said.

“Don’t ever let Norena hear you call her big,” Razzle laughed.

“So where are we going exactly?” Richard asked Ratchis.

“You’ll know when we get there,” Ratchis said.

“I am still not sure we should bring him,” Kazrack said.

“You’re never going to trust me, are you?” Richard asked the Keepers of the Gate with a smile.

“Why should we?” asked Ratchis.

“Because I have always told you the truth,” Richard replied without pause.

The Keepers of the Gate ascended into the temple proper, where the Company of the Impervious Ward was still camped.  Heriot of the Ironstaff was conscious once again, and she shot dirty looks at Martin as the group made to leave.

“We have kept our part of the agreement and will leave on the morrow,” said Sir Clerebold of Thoth.

“I thought it was the day after tomorrow that you had agreed to leave,” Roland commented.

Clerebold’s fair features grew red as he stood, showing more emotion than he had during the entire combat between the two groups a couple of days earlier.  “Do you mock me?”

“No, sir… No, he does not,” Martin the Green said, raising his hands to smooth things over. “Tomorrow will be fine.  And it is my sincere hope that this situation does not leave you ill-favored by your order or your god.”

“Either way, there is much to atone for,” Clerebold said, sitting back down.

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

Outside the winds whipped wildly, seemingly in all directs, wrapping cloaks around bodies and branches about trees. The winds swirled up all the ash that had fallen across the landscape obscuring vision to just under a dozen feet in any direction.  Alternately covering their mouths and shielding their eyes the Keepers of the Gate, joined now by Richard the Red, Cordell of Thoth, and Razzle Greyish lined up and began to march south as best they could.  Ratchis led the way, planning on taking a wide berth as possible around Summit.

But a little over an hour later, when he was going veer their path more westward, the winds pushed all the ash back towards the valley, revealing glittering autumn sunlight streaming in from the east.  It was reaching noon.  Scouting far ahead, Ratchis noticed a line of men hurrying eastward down the ridge away from Summit.  It looked as if even the last bit of militia left behind were now evacuating in light of the new events in the valley.

“Nephthys, show mercy on those men,” the Friar said aloud, and then hurried back to report what he had seen to the others.

As the half-orc ranger led the group at a hurried pace past the abandoned village, the winds in the valley twisted the cloud of ash into a violent funnel of gray and black.  The funnel raised way up into the sky and spread out across the horizon to cover the sun once again.  It had gone from day to night, back to dreary day, and soon it felt like night again.  Below they could see the area of the valley floor that had once been a steaming mist-covered swamp (3), and later a jagged rent spewing smoke and fire (4), explode upward, extending a cone of earth nearly twenty feet high about its perimeter.  

“Is everything okay?” Bastian sent a thought to his familiar, N’kron, as the hawk flew way above in circles, and then suddenly began to dive to the eastern ridge edge.

“Danger! Danger!” the animal’s fear coating the back of Bastian’s throat.  He instinctively crouched and looked around.

There were cries of alarm as stones and molten earth began to fall about them, setting trees and grass ablaze.  Ratchis barely dodged a ball of flame that singed his natty locks as he leapt.

Everyone began to run as the hail of fire and stone turned into another of ash that turned out to be cold and smell like… snow?  

“Things are getting strange,” Roland said, and the earth shook.  

They pushed on only stopping once to make sure every had drank enough water and to eat some hard tack.

“We are being scryed,” Martin announced as they got up to continue.

“At least we know it isn’t Richard,” Kazrack said, grimacing at the crimson watch-mage.

“It is Mozek!” Martin said, uncovering his eyes from having concentrated to see who it might be.  He had seen the warty green-skinned gnome with his white-green hair and smoldering green eyes.  He scratched the surface of a crystal ball with one of his thick black claws.

“Lehrothronar! Keeper of Secrets! Block this fiend from listening to our plans and portents!” Kazrack chanted, shaking his bag of runestones.

“Good work, Karack!” Martin said, when he saw the otherwise invisible sensor disappear.

“Who is Mozek again?” Roland asked, creeping up in panther form. (5)

“I will never get used to that,” Kazrack said, eyes opened in amazement at the talking cat.

“That is what you said about my changing at all,” Roland replied.

“Well, I haven’t gotten use to that either,” the dwarf retorted.

“He is half-demon and half-gnome,” Martin said answering the question.

“And he ate our friend,” (6) Ratchis said, coming over to hurry them along.  The whole valley and ridge still rumbled and shook every thirty minutes or so.

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

 Evening had fallen and they were in sight of the strange formations of mica atop the ridge (7) when a heavy hail began to fall shooting out of the dark clouds hanging over Greenreed Valley.  There were more cries of alarm and pain, and then another great explosion. The rocking of the earth left them all stunned as a column of flame shot out of the valley into the sky merging with the clouds and wind to become a funnel of flame, shooting streaks in all directions.

“Everyone to me!” Martin the Green cried over the din, holding his stone cube over his head. “I will protect us all in the cube.”

“Cube?” Cordell stepping over obediently, shield over his head.

“You have an example of _the Worfel Kraft_?” Richard the Red asked, with true amazement in his voice. “Wherever did you get it?”

“It was a gift from the Tree That Grows Backwards,” Martin replied, activating the setting to keep out everything as everyone crammed into one small spot.

“Kind of cramped in here,” Razzle complained, he was crouched down and pressed against Roland.

“The company could be worse,” Roland flirted and winked still in panther-form and flicked his tail on Razzle.  The half-elf looked nervously from side to side.

“All of the elemental planes are breaking through at once,” Martin told the others as they witnessed winds rip the funnel of flame apart as quickly as it has come into being.  Stone and flying flame battered the blue cubic field, but none came through.

But only a few moments later things had calmed down enough to allow Martin to deactivate t_the Wurfel Kraft_, and less than a half hour after that the valley was quiet again as a mist began to rise in it.  

“Hey look at that!” Razzle said, pointing to the northwest; to the place called ‘the Amphitheatre’.  There were over a dozen little fires burning all along top of it; scattered to and fro.  “Those are those monks, right?”

“Is that where we have to go?” Richard asked Ratchis.

“No,” the half-orc replied.

“Is this the place then?” 

“No.”

“Then why not go there now?” Richard asked.

“Because we have to wait for someone else,” Ratchis replied.  

A rudimentary camp was set up and Bastian and Kazrack took the first watch, while Martin, affected by _Lacan’s Demise_, (8) studied his journals and notes by candlelight, preparing for the trip into Hurgun’s Maze.  The others all slept, except Richard the Red, who faded from view once again.

Bastian called out mentally to N’kron, “What is it like up there?”

The hawk was flying high above the camp in wide circles taking in the night with its excellent vision.

“The air burns my eyes and my breath,” the hawk replied.  “This place is foul. I thirst.”

Bastian summoned his familiar back down to him, and as the bird landed on his shoulder he sat down took off his helmet and called out in dwarven chanting.  In a moment, the helmet was filled with fresh water and the hawk was perched on the side drinking its fill.

“What was that?” Kazrack asked the bearded man.  “Something about ‘call to the water’ or something?  It sounded like dwarven, but I am not sure I heard right.  What was that?”

“It was dwarven,” Bastian replied in his always even tone.  “Or at least the dialect of it spoken by the people of Thorad-Klen.  It is what their shaman taught me when he showed me his ways.”

”To… To…” Kazrack stammered.  “To summon demons?  What is a shaman?”

“Well, not demons,” Bastian said.  “Various powers…"

“This does not seem right,” the dwarf stood and sulked around the camp doing his watching with a heavy silence

“I am sorry you feel that way,” Bastian said.

Kazrack stormed over.  “Why? Why would this barbarian warlock cast his foul spells in the tongue of my people?”

Bastian, who had stood as well to look down at the dwarf, shrugged.  “The dwarves taught them long ago.  I did not learn that many details of their history.”

“I must ask you that you never cast one of your spells on me,” Kazrack said, holding back anger.  Martin the Green who had walked over shot the dwarf a look that said ‘keep your voice down’.  “Even if it is to help me.”

Bastian shrugged again.  “If that is what you want.” 

Martin pulled Bastian away to talk more about magic, allowing Kazrack to go back to keeping watch.

“So you practice witchcraft?” Martin asked Bastian.

Bastian frowned.  “I do not call it that.”

“But you do summon spirits and they imbue you with spells?” Martin asked.  “And sometimes they ask things of you?”

Bastian nodded.

”Is that how you got to Topaline?” Martin asked.

Bastian nodded again. “There is a dao… Do you know what a dao is? (9)  I can summon him and through him I was contacted by an intermediary, some power that I was able to negotiate with for transport to the demi-plane.”

“What kind of power?” 

“I don’t know,” Bastian said.  “It appeared as a pillar of flame in darkness that spoke.”

Martin sighed.  “We may have need you to summon dao again,” he said.  “It might have helpful knowledge about Hurgun’s Maze or the planar disturbances in the valley.”

Bastian nodded again.

Logan and Razzle were given the middle watch, and near the end of it Martin napped the two hours of sleep required of him to prepare spells once again.


Anulem, the 28th of Keent – 565 H.E.

Martin snapped awake when his two hours were up.  It was still dark.

“Martin! I went exploring and found some eggs shells!” Thomas was squealing with delight in his mind.

“Thank you, Thomas,” Martin thought back.  He scratched his familiar under the head  and sat up looking around in the darkness; feeling that just something wasn’t right.

And then it hit him.  There was no one awake and watching!  Martin the Green stood and looked around.  Cordell and Razzle were gone and there was of course no sign of Richard.  He woke the others and explained how their recent companions were gone, including Logan.

“Hmph! Logan?” Kazrack asked shaking off sleep and sounding disappointed.

“He was probably still mad at me for hitting him with that spell,” Roland suggested. (10)

“More than likely he was in Richard the Red’s employ all along,” Martin said.  “Either that or Richard _charmed_ him.  He does that a lot.”

“But where did they go and for what reason?” asked Bastian in his usual calm demeanor.  In a way, he seemed the most confused by the turn of events.  “I thought Richard and his companions were your allies.”

“Uneasy allies at best,” Martin replied.

“We knew we were taking a chance by letting him come,” Ratchis said. “He probably figured out enough that he figures he can guess how to get into the Maze without us, and maybe he convinced Logan that he’d be less picky than we are about what kind of behavior he’d tolerate.”

There was a long silence and a cold pre-dawn wind blew up from the south bringing fresh air with it.

“The sun will be up soon,” Ratchis said.  “Let’s move camp somewhere else, maybe that will throw them off, though I doubt it.  We can then prepare our spells and then get ready for the first lights.  From what we saw in the map room I don’t think we will be able to see the beam of light until the sun is fully above the horizon, but we should get into position, because we can’t be sure.”

“Actually, I don’t think the beam of light will appear until tomorrow at dawn,” Martin said.

“Today is the last day of fall,” Ratchis said.

“But tomorrow should be when the day is equal light and dark,” Martin said.  “If I remember my astronomy class correctly.”

Ratchis was silent for a moment.  “I think you’re right, but we’ll check today to be safe.”

The Keepers of the Gate began to march further westward, creeping past the open area where the mica riddled the ridge and making for some brush that marked the beginning of the light forested southwestern portion of it.

Light had just begun to appear in the east, and Ratchis was pointing out a small clearing on the southern edge of the ridge as a place to camp, when there was a great disturbance down there as just outside the valley.

They saw a blonde armored warrior hustling with a drawn sword, leaping over brush and making a beeline for the area of the base of the ridge where Roland and Ratchis had waited the many days before. (11)

“Gods damn that pig-f*cker and the grubber and the ponce and all of them pansies!” the warrior swore, his voice echoing against the ridge wall. He stopped and looked around.   It was Gunthar.

It was then that Ratchis noticed the score of orcs breaking through the trees after the Neergaardian and the great dire boar that charged amid their ranks. 

He pointed it out to the others.

“I wish we had had a chance to prepare our spells,” Martin complained.

*End of Session #87*


----------



## el-remmen

-----------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	Among the barbarian tribes of Northern Central Derome-Delem, the Thorard-Klen are one of the few that are not nomadic.  Instead, they live in an abandoned dwarven stronghold and have adopted many aspects of dwarven culture and language into their own, even though they are human.

(2)	*DM’s Note:* Bastian’s player rolled the best bluff check of his life.

(3)	See Session #18

(4)	See Session #77

(5)	* DM’s Note:* The PCs all went up a level (except for Bastian) after the adventure in Topaline. One of Roland’s gained abilities at 9th level was the ability to speak in his human voice while in cat-form.

(6)	See Session #17

(7)	This is where the party expects the light of the sun to create the beam that points out the way into Hurgun’s Maze. (See Session #77)

(8)	* DM’s Note:* You can read about Lacan’s Demise here.

(9)	A dao is an earth jinn. 

(10)	See Session #82

(11)	See Session #79


----------



## handforged

Your descriptions of the elemental fury surrounding the valley is quite amazing.  I can't wait to see what happens next.  Bastian's character brings an interesting tone to the party that Logan had been holding as the not-so-good one.

~hf


----------



## Gold Roger

Bastian grew about 100% more interesting with this update.

Things are about to get interesting.

Here a list of the groups interested in Hurguns Maze:

-The PC's and Gunthar

-Morzak

-Morzaks mom, miss evil unique Succubus

-The monks of "Anubis" (Rahkefet)

-Richard and his group

-Suposedly the dragon and her orcs (was there an actual instance of proof she's interested in the maze)

-Then there's the dragonhunting wildcards that may still make an appearance: Deebo and his Trolls and Tanweil, the draconic lizardman.

-If Hurgun still lives he may have a say in things as well.


----------



## el-remmen

handforged said:
			
		

> Bastian's character brings an interesting tone to the party that Logan had been holding as the not-so-good one.
> 
> ~hf




I'm not sure I get you. . .


----------



## handforged

Gunthar, Logan, and now Bastian all have aspects that may rub the rest of the party the wrong way as far as moral decisions and standards.  It brings a nice tension to the group, in the same way that the faithfulness of Kazrack vs Roland brings tension.  It makes for a good story.

I really like Bastian specifically as well.  I can't wait to see what his promise to Kazrack may bring.

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

*DM Commentary for Sessions #82 through Session #87*

The Keepers of the Gate’s adventures in the Mystic City of Topaline are based on the Dungeon Magazine adventure “Beyond the Glittering Veil” (from issue #31), which was an adventure designed to introduce 2E Psionics to an AD&D game – however, by the time to run this adventure came around I still had not found (or come up with) a psionics system for Aquerra that I liked (I since have: Green Ronin’s Psychic Handbook will be the rules for “psionics” in Aquerra (with some tweaks)) – but since I could not divorce myself of the idea of using one of the Mystic demi-plane cities for the set of Hugun’s Key Room, and since I was lazy and did not get around to designing a new one – I just took Topaline from that Dungeon adventure, essentially moving it from where I had originally placed it in Aquerra.

You see, when building areas of the setting I almost always tie them to adventures that I like and want to run one day.

Anyway, I stripped all the references to psionics out, ignoring the need for rules (since they would not be meeting any psionic foes) and anything left over would be “mysterious powers”.  It worked out fine.  The physical description of the city and the luminescent sea and the red suns and all of that were my contributions, and is different from the description in the adventure.  Also in the original adventure the PCs go to the city to investigate the source of shadows that are infesting a town that are coming from an old obelisk that opens portals.  This “shadow infestation” is what would have happened in and around Summit if I had not decided that Finn & crew had succeeded in stopping the priest of Seker. (See Session #49 – the Tale of Finn Fisher).

The skeletal creature in the gatehouse was a Crypt Thing.  The use of 1E Fiend Folio monsters always endears me to an adventure, and this was no exception – except of course I had to convert him.  I also gave him three levels of sorcerer.  As I have said in previous commentaries, even though I do not allow the sorcerer as a class (preferring the flavor of the witch class I have re-written a handful of times), I will use sorcerer casting levels as an add-on to creatures I want to have innate magical abilities. Looking back now, I realize I could have given him twice as many sorcerer levels and it might have made for a more challenging combat.  He kind of ended up having a glass jaw despite all his hit points since he did not have the magic to back up his bluster.  Oh, and I doubled his hit dice for some reason.



> *Gantus* (medium-sized skeletal undead)
> HD: 12d12,  hps: 91 – Al: NE
> Initiative: +6 (dex + improved initiative), Spd: 30 feet (6 boxes)
> AC: 20 (+2 dex, +5 natural, +3 def bonus); w/ _mage armor_: 24; flat-footed: 15; touch 15
> Atk: Claw +10 melee (1d6+1)
> Special Attacks: Teleport Other, Spell-Use
> Special Qualities: Undead, Darkvision, DR 5/ blunt, magic, Turn Resistance +4, _Tongues_ (at will)
> Saves: Fort: +4, Ref: +6, Will +10
> Stats: Str: 12, Dex: 14, Con: -, Int: 12, Wis: 14, Cha: 15
> Feats: Skill Focus (craft), Dodge, Combat Casting, Improved Initiative,  Skill Affinity (Appraise + Craft)
> Spell Progression: 6 / 6
> Spells Known: 0 - Detect Magic, Touch of Fatigue, Read Magic, Disrupt Undead, Mage Hand; 1st – Magic Missile, Mage Armor, Charm Person




Notice I did not include CR or skills.  I just can’t be bothered with that stuff for an NPC that will not be recurring, or when I think there is no way it will come into play.  On the other hand, for some NPCs I insist on figuring that stuff out (well, the skills, never CR – CR is for suckers!).  Also, I added the _tongues_ ability, and changed the  _Teleport Other _ ability from being random to being to any location in the Crypt Thing’s ‘domain’.  What constitutes its domain? Eh.  Whatever.  The place it lives and the area it controls.  If I were publishing it in a module or something I would detail it, but I see no need to give myself extra work.  Also, teleporting individual members of the party throughout Topaline would likely have led to a TPK and would have been a pain in the ass to run with the PCs all separated.

As for its feats, again whatever.  I imagine Gantus had been there a long time and was bored and grew more and more obsessed with his undead sculpting than improving his ability to guard.

The ‘boggles/noggles’ were also in the adventure without much explanation for why they were there, but I see them as some kind of mutated sub-species of the Mystics profoundly changed and stupefied by the planar energy.  At some later date I will probably come up with some advanced form with psionic powers – which ideally is what I would have liked to have done with this encounter.   They are an old monster that first appeared in some 1E module and later in the 1E MM2.  The players hated them!  They were not so physically  tough, but they had DR and were constantly blinking around.  Though my obnoxious squealing of “noggle! noggle!” every time I rolled the dice for them might have contributed to their feelings.

Ju-ju zombies… I love ju-ju zombies.  And I think running fights are a lot of fun.  The players certainly seemed to like the challenge of fighting through a possibly unlimited number of zombies to get to a goal.

* Chochokpi *: I honestly don’t remember where the idea for _Chochokpi the Tree That Grows Backwards_ came from.  I know I had a thread about it in the Rat Bastard DM’s Club, but an old version that no longer exists so I cannot trace back its roots (no pun intended), but really it was something that was inspired by those strange cosmic Marvel Comics characters that make their appearance every now and again, like the In-Betweener and the Living Tribunal.  You can read more about what Chochokpi is on the Aquerra wiki here.  However, the real reason to put Chochokpi there (no, he wasn’t in the original adventure) was to mix in some of the weird chronal stuff I had hinted at along the way, and as a means of giving the party fairly powerful magical items to aid them in Hurgun’s Maze, which I was in the middle of finally detailing and I knew it was going to be the biggest challenge they had faced to date, as well it should be, since it was meant to be the climax of the campaign.

I have no stats for Chochokpi, but if I had had to run him in a combat I would have as a gargantuan treant with 0 speed, that could reach any square in the pyramid and more and a 5’ step anywhere in there would have drawn an attack of opportunity.  I would also have given him 10 or so levels of druid (figuring he has fewer levels as he grows backwards), but as I figured, it never came to that.

As for the details of the metaphysics of it, I didn’t worry too much about it. I mean, here we are talking about unfathomable cosmic craziness and the essence of time and space and divinity and blahitty-blah.  It just has to sound good.  

*The Slaadi:*  Just another chance to use more 1E Fiend Folio monsters.  I see these chaotic monsters just leaping around the planes wreaking havoc and injecting stuff with their eggs.  So I just imagined a few of them who somehow accidentally ended up in Topaline and were happy to kill.

*Introducing Bastian:* I really wanted to try to find a way to introduce Bastian before the party went into the demi-plane.  However, Bastian’s player (Jesse) could not join us until after that adventure had already started, and not wanting to wait any longer I figured I could add some long term plot stuff as a means of including him (the mystery of how he got there and what the pillar of fire really was), with the realization that at this point in the campaign it was highly unlikely we’d ever resolve it.  Oh, well. . . I know exactly what to start with if we ever have an Out of the Frying Pan reunion game.    Also by working it out with the player so that Bastian had an estranged connection to Gothanius (and later it appears to Richard the Red and somehow has knowledge of the dragon and the orc army), I was giving him motivation for being involved and for the PCs to think his help might be useful.

I had to use Abderus’ status as a divine creature to smooth over the usual paranoia of a new potential member of the group as to not have it derail the campaign with too much inner-turmoil that would distract them from the final adventure itself.   I also used him as a source for some spells for Martin that would make navigating Hurgun’s Maze a little easier.

*The Questions:* I consider this portion of the adventure a near total failure.  I like the idea of riddles.  I mean, riddles are a part of the fantasy genre and folktales and myths and the like.  And ‘Riddles in the Dark’ is probably my favorite chapter in the Hobbit,  but riddles in RPGs are hard to make “fair” in any kind of game sense.  Riddles are hard, and typically people are playing characters smarter than they are (or in some cases stupider) – so how fair is it to have the character’s ability to solver riddles lay solely on the player, and how fun is it to just make them roll Intelligence or Wisdom or Knowledge skill checks and say they solved it or didn’t based on a roll? 

I am thinking something that might work in the future is build some kind of riddle that works in stages or is has multiple parts and then give hints or partial answers based on the success of Knowledge rolls that make actually solving it easier without taking away the fun of actually coming up with an answer.

But this time the way I handled it was creating riddle-like open-ended questions, that I figured the players could have fun discussing in character and then have Abderus make his decision based not really on the answer, but the reasoning of the answer.  This was something I developed with the help of the Rat Bastards and that I was excited about – but I think all I really did was create a session or so of frustrated playing and annoyance with the questions and the situation.  So, in trying to avoid what riddles can do, I still got the same basic outcome, except it took longer!  Just goes to show that no matter how long you’ve been DMing, you always have things to learn and adapt to and can still make mistakes.  On the other hand, taking chances and looking for new ways to accomplish old things is the only way you are going to discover the things that _do_ work.

Anyway, this is basically what I was looking for in terms of answers (but keeping an open-mind for other possibilities I had not thought of that could blow me away):

*Question 1:*
_ “Up in an arm-like bough of Chochokpi is a tiny bird’s nest, clutched in its fingered branches, where a newly hatched bird sits, just out of your sight above you.  Tell me, is that baby bird alive or dead?” _
For this I was looking for something expressed how fragile and uncertain life is. Something along the line of _“Whether the bird is alive or dead is in Chochokpi’s hands”_ or _If its mother is there to nurture it_.  The answer the party did give seemed to literal for Abderus’ tastes.

*Question 2:*
_ “There was a man who treated his son like a servant. And poorly at that.  He beat him and gave him only the scraps of the fine dinners he would eat himself.  He gave his son the worst and most menial jobs and never showed him an ounce of trust, except to say, ‘You are free to go whenever you please.  Ask for it and you will get your due inheritance in gold and you may be on your way.’  His son never took this offer.  The question is, was this man’s son a slave?” _
For this one I was looking for an exploration of what it means to serve and what it means to be in bondage and where duty lies in there.  Unfortunately, I thought that Abderus would also be looking for the kind of unity from the party in terms of their answers – A unity that would display the party’s ability to endeavor in their quest in the Maze, and Roland’s apparent dissatisfaction with the answer tainted it.

*Question 3:*
_ “If I offered to show you the Key Room and explain everything about it that I know,” Abderus paused.  “Would you be willing to leave one of you behind to guard the library and the Key Room in my stead and take over my duty for however long, knowing that you would not die of old age no matter how long it was, but that the wait might change you irrevocably nonetheless?”_
I really had no idea here. I just figured I would make the players sweat knowing it’d be cheesy to choose the NPC, and then have the NPC (Dorn) offer to be the one to stay.  I considered having Logan be the one to stay behind and thus rid myself of him, but in the end it really did not fit his character.

*Getting Rid of Logan*: Logan’s player (mmu1) left the game after session #81, which unfortunately was right after the party got to Topaline – otherwise I would not have had him come along as I was not in the mood to drag around an extra NPC.  Thankfully, Martin’s player (Eric M.) took over play of Logan in combat, much as he did for Gunthar whenever I had a lot of the foes to run.  In the end, I had him run off with Richard the Red based both on a suggestion by his player and as something that just seemed to make sense. I think how Richard  came off to Logan as compared to other watch-mages like Martin or Logan’s father (who we cut as a very stern figure in our discussions of the character’s background), there was more bond over how they saw things.

The campaign now stood at the cusp of the end and honestly, I was really freaking out about the result and really afraid that all the build up and anticipation for this final chapter would fizzle out and not live up to what it pretended it could be.  I even had threads in the RBC moaning about it and looking for affirmation from my fellow DMs. At this point I had a lot of loose threads getting all unraveled nearly at once and I had no time left to delay bringing them into play.  

Over the next couple of sessions I would have to:

-	Reveal the Extent of the Orcish Force
-	Open Hurgun’s Maze and allow opportunity for the party to reach the entrance
-	Deal with the waiting Monks in the camp above the ‘amphitheatre’.
-	Have Mozek show up to get into the Maze
-	Deal with Richard and his group trying to get into the Maze

I needed to get Richard and his friends away from the Keepers of the Gate because dramatically I felt like their showdown should come closer to the end of the campaign – but I also needed it to actually happen for there to be some kind closure with Richard who has been a specter over everything they had done since they first met him (back in Session #21).  So, making him take off for whatever reason was risky.  Also, I did not want to deal with so many NPCs when the confrontations with the monks or Mozek happened – as I felt like that would make it less dramatic as well. In the end, when he confronts the Keepers of the Gate within the Maze, I think it is a lot more exciting – so I am glad I did it then.

I was going on as much a ride as the players at this point, not sure how it would play out, and as you’ll see in the next session (or maybe the one after that?) you will read about them doing something I did not expect and totally making their journey in the Maze a lot easier for them, but that is for the next commentary.

*Leveling:* I awarded XP after this set of sessions, making sure to give enough so that everyone (except Bastian) went up a level.  I knew this would likely be the last time I gave XP during the campaign.  The _next_ time would be the _last_ time.  So at this point, Ratchis, Martin and Kazrack were 10th level (the highest level reached in any campaign I have ever run), Roland reached 9th (and got the ‘Voice of Man’ class ability), and Bastian remained at 8th.


----------



## el-remmen

Gold Roger said:
			
		

> Bastian grew about 100% more interesting with this update.
> 
> Things are about to get interesting.
> 
> Here a list of the groups interested in Hurguns Maze:
> 
> -The PC's and Gunthar
> 
> -Mozek
> 
> -Mozek's mom, miss evil unique Succubus
> 
> -The monks of "Anubis" (Rahkefet)
> 
> -Richard and his group
> 
> -Suposedly the dragon and her orcs (was there an actual instance of proof she's interested in the maze)
> 
> -Then there's the dragonhunting wildcards that may still make an appearance: Deebo and his Trolls and Tanweil, the draconic lizardman.
> 
> -If Hurgun still lives he may have a say in things as well.





And six of those items will be resolved in the next. . oh. .. let's say 15 sessions.  I am pretty sure actual session # of the last one was 103.   

It is about to get pretty crazy. . .


----------



## BlackCat

handforged said:
			
		

> Gunthar, Logan, and now Bastian all have aspects that may rub the rest of the party the wrong way as far as moral decisions and standards.  It brings a nice tension to the group, in the same way that the faithfulness of Kazrack vs Roland brings tension.  It makes for a good story.
> 
> I really like Bastian specifically as well.  I can't wait to see what his promise to Kazrack may bring.
> 
> ~hf




Bastian sorta has this thing where he and direct answers are only vaguely familiar. It was really very trying at first but after a while we kinda got used to it. So it was very different in that Gunthar was a giver as far as saying really wrong things was concerned.

Logan on the other hand had a little mystery about him but was, for the most part, up front.

As for their moral fiber...well, Gunthar is a lech but other than that a relatively decent guy. Logan came off as very self-centered and he was certainly not Good in the strictest sense (hence the damage from Roland's Holy Smite spell) but was also relatively decent...until now. Bastian...well, he's kind of complicated.


----------



## Richard Rawen

Really enjoying the story as the possibilities start to narrow toward a conclusion.  One thing that has always entertained/boggled me about this campaign is how many threads you have "loose" all over the place (so it seems).


----------



## el-remmen

Richard Rawen said:
			
		

> One thing that has always entertained/boggled me about this campaign is how many threads you have "loose" all over the place (so it seems).





Well, not all of them get tied off before the end. . . But I think the end is still satisfying.


----------



## Manzanita

I'm surprised you had Gunther return.  He's one more NPC to deal with, and it seems the KOG already have a number of allies.  Certainly looking forward to seeing how it turns out.


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> I'm surprised you had Gunther return.




There had to be at least a chance Gunthar would be with the party when/ they succeed in the Maze (i.e. he survives) for dramatic purposes and a Rat Bastard twist near the end involving the life of a PC.   

Plus he is just a fighter.  Easy to run and I can hand him over to other players to run.  While I would not have been able to do that with any of Richard's company, and there is a lot more to those guys (i.e. spells and class abilties) than there is to a simple fighter.

I _liked_ playing Gunthar.   He brought moments of levity into an otherwise often dour and very focused game and allowed me to give the PCs a method to blow off some steam and get involved in a little ripartee.


----------



## mmu1

BlackCat said:
			
		

> As for their moral fiber...well, Gunthar is a lech but other than that a relatively decent guy. Logan came off as very self-centered and he was certainly not Good in the strictest sense (hence the damage from Roland's Holy Smite spell) but was also relatively decent...until now. Bastian...well, he's kind of complicated.




Logan, self-centered? As opposed to, say, Roland? 

I actually consider Logan to be something of a failure as a character, in most ways, since he just didn't accomplish anything I had initially in mind for him. (I'm glad a few people found him interesting, at least)

He was supposed to have a dark-ish past, but the idea was to make him _happier_ as the time went by. Then, he ended up on a forced march through a horrible wilderness with Gunthar as one of the companions, and... well, things just went downhill from there. 

As for him being a bad guy... Remember that, a) He hasn't had all the experiences with Richard that the others did, and b) What he knew of Richard's supposed crimes was largely based on Kazrack's and Ratchis' points of view, which - as he found out during the trek - hardly ever matched his own.


----------



## el-remmen

Just a note to say: I edited the last installment to correct a chronal distortion that made me think things were about to happen a day earlier than they did.   It is right at the end (when they wake up to find Richard & Co. gone), so go back and check it out.

I also added a note about the XP awards and the character levels to the DM commentary.


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## Piratecat

As much as I love the story, I find the DM commentary really fascinating. Reading this stuff makes me a better DM.

Thanks for doing it!


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## el-remmen

mmu1 said:
			
		

> I actually consider Logan to be something of a failure as a character, in most ways, since he just didn't accomplish anything I had initially in mind for him. (I'm glad a few people found him interesting, at least)
> 
> He was supposed to have a dark-ish past, but the idea was to make him _happier_ as the time went by. Then, he ended up on a forced march through a horrible wilderness with Gunthar as one of the companions, and... well, things just went downhill from there.
> 
> As for him being a bad guy... Remember that, a) He hasn't had all the experiences with Richard that the others did, and b) What he knew of Richard's supposed crimes was largely based on Kazrack's and Ratchis' points of view, which - as he found out during the trek - hardly ever matched his own.




Sorry Gunthar made it that hard for you to play your character the way you envisioned.  It was certainly not my intention to have that effect.

In the end, I think Logan's character _does_ work for the campaign - and I kind of see him as the kind of guy who wanted to be a better person but was embittered by the fact that he always disappointed his father, but was at times so impulsive that he was divided between wanting to live up to some standard of behavior and wanting to find something that lined up a bit more with the way he saw the world.

I think the moral ambiguity of Richard & Co. fit him well.


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## el-remmen

Piratecat said:
			
		

> As much as I love the story, I find the DM commentary really fascinating. Reading this stuff makes me a better DM.
> 
> Thanks for doing it!





Thank _you_. 

It really makes me a better DM, too.  At least I hope it will.  

It has really challenged me to put a critical eye to my own style and way of handling situations and players - and while I am applying some of this to my current M&M game - I am eager for my next Aquerra game so I can apply it all.


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## mmu1

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Sorry Gunthar made it that hard for you to play your character the way you envisioned.  It was certainly not my intention to have that effect.




I don't think you have anything to be sorry about... I think I just made a character that didn't quite fit into the party - and that's going to happen, if the other players are serious enough about their RP - you can't make everyone change to accomodate every character concept that might come along... 

Though in retrospect, I think I should have embraced those differences, and challenged the more stolid party members a lot more often - it could have led to interesting things. Instead, it was pretty clear that Logan was unhappy a lot of the time, but he wasn't that vocal, aside from the occasional snipe, which just made him seem sullen. 

A lot of that actually ended up being driven by the fact that this was a campaign that'd been going on for a long time now, and heading for the finale, that I was a recent addition to, and I didn't quite feel comfortable trying to make several other people with a lot of time invested in their characters do things _I'd_ have wanted - besides, I figured I'd get outvoted, anyway. Looking back at it, I realize that most likely no one would have minded if Logan had dug in his heels, and tried to sway things in a particular direction, or challenged what he perceived as the de facto leadership of the group.


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## BlackCat

mmu1 said:
			
		

> Logan, self-centered? As opposed to, say, Roland?
> 
> I actually consider Logan to be something of a failure as a character, in most ways, since he just didn't accomplish anything I had initially in mind for him. (I'm glad a few people found him interesting, at least)




Roland tends to think of himself as self-possessed. He's quite well aware of his own flaws and his strengths. It's good to be confident and his braggadocio is part of his charm (at least in his own head). So   !

I think Logan was very interesting and you're right...he didn't have all the bad experiences with Richard that the rest did. He has no reason to hate him and a lot of reasons to follow him. Roland has to stay with the party...if only because he can't be on the same team as Norena. It just seems so...wrong.

She's another interesting character.


----------



## el-remmen

Jeez, this next installment is taking longer than I thought it was gonna be.   

I figured about 8 pages in word.  I just hit page 12 and probably have another page to write.


----------



## el-remmen

*14 sessions to go. . .*

*Session #88* (complete)

Gunthar spotted the approaching orcs and took off eastward once again, about forty feet south of the ridge wall.  Black-feathered orc arrows bit into the dirt and into trees around him.

“Can you levitate him up to us?” Kazrack asked.

“He is too far,” Martin explained.  “And even if he weren’t it would not help too much to have him dangling in mid-air.  I could levitate some of us down there.”

“Invisibly?” Ratchis asked.

“None prepared,” Martin sighed.

Ratchis shook his head.  “We need to find a way to get him up here or keep them from getting to him.”

“Illusionary wall of fire?” Martin suggested.

“Do it,” Ratchis replied.

The orcs were all dressed in studded leather armor that looked like it had been pieced together from the scraps of others, but thick black seams looked like they held it together as strongly as a brand new set.   Some held bows, but others held battle axes and had heavy maces slapping their thighs as they ran.  They each had a pack and a bow on their back beneath their purple-dyed hair-woven cloaks. (1) Speaking of hair, they had natty locks like Ratchis’ but entwined in purple ribbons..  These orcs had coal black face like black orcs and were of a similar stature, but they stood tall and had long legs. Snaggled teeth pushed out from behind their thin black lips.  There were more than a dozen now passing the party’s position above them.

The Keepers of the Gate let loose with a volley of arrows and bolts.  Dorn watched his arrow pierce the top of an orc’s head and it did not get back up.  The rest of the orcs scattered and spread in a line to take in who or what had attacked them, while more than half the group continued after Gunthar.  

The great boar that had disappeared for a moment in the shadow of the trees snorted and rushed at the Neergaardian, crashing through the undergrowth and kicking up a cloud of ash.

“_Imago Majorum Igneum!_” the watch-mage chanted and a wall of fire nearly ten feet tall burst into being from the base of the ridge way out into the gloom.  The chasing orcs held up, but the boar burst through not heeding it, or perhaps unable to stop.  It slammed into Gunthar as the blonde warrior tried to leap behind a tree.  His cry echoed up to the ridge as he flopped to the ground.  He then scrambled up to his feet and kept on running, zigzagging to keep trees between him and the dire beast.

Roland transformed to human form and began to load another crossbow, as he stood to get a shot, he felt the bite of the first volley of orcs arrows from the bushes below.  Though the party was nearly eighty feet above them, the orcs could stand in bushes and at the edge of the treeline sending arrows up in high arcs to land amid the party.  None of the other arrows found a target, and Roland crouched back down, as Dorn, Ratchis and Kazrack leaned up out of their crouching positions to send back more arrows and bolts.  Kazrack’s bolt found the same orc as his first had and he smiled as he saw it fall.

“Gunthar! This way! Come to us!” Kazrack bellowed.

“I’m going to fly down and get him.” Martin said, his body changing to the now familiar winged draconic form akin to Tanweil’s.  Thomas leapt from the billowing and changing cloak, and took refuge in a nearby tree.

“You have to protect yourself from arrows,” Ratchis warned.

“None of those either,” Martin replied.  “But don’t worry, I’ve improvised.” (2) 

The transformed watch-mage took to the air flapping his small wings awkwardly to get some lift before attempting to swoop down to Gunthar.  He was startled as an arrow struck him in the chest and bounced off harmlessly unable to get through his thick lizard hide.

“Looks like we’re having bacon for dinner!” Gunthar quipped as he spun around to slice his long sword across the dire boar’s face, and followed it up with the jab of his short sword.

There was a sound like hard rain as a nearly a dozen arrows struck Martin at the command of an orc standing by the illusory wall of fire, but they all fell down harmlessly. Not one was able to harm him.  The orc leader was now yelling at the chasing orcs to leap through the fire after Gunthar. They seemed reticent.

“Aim for the leader!” Ratchis commanded, and he, Dorn, Bastian and Roland let arrows fly towards the mailed orc.  Only Dorn’s bolt found the target, and it was not enough to drop him.

“Martin! Use the trees!” Kazrack called as the watch-mage awkwardly made his way down, dropping below the treeline to get even more cover.  

Gunthar swore as the boar slammed him to the ground again.  He barely escaped being trampled as he crawled up on the other side of a thorny bush.

“Oh sh*t! It’s the dragon guy!” Gunthar swore again, as he turned and saw Martin approaching him.  He held his swords up defensively, risking a glimpse at the boar from the corner of his eye.

“It’ssss me, Martin!” the transformed watch-mage said.  “Get ready! I’m going to levitate you up and you have to grab on.”

“_Levitatusssss!_ chanted Martin in his sibilant voice, as the boar snorted and charged again.  Yellow cracked tusks slammed into Gunthar from the side and the Neergaardian crumpled, his body jerking bonelessly as the beast trod over him.  Ratchis had moved over to his left to keep an eye on Martin and sent a couple of arrows at the boar to distract it.  Martin grabbed the weightless and bleeding Gunthar and flapped out of the beast’s reach.


The others dodged the rain of arrows that was once again concentrated towards them.  Three of the  orcs that had stopped before, finally backed up and ran leaping through the wall of fire.  The leader leapt after them but fell short, screeching as he scrambled around in the ‘fire’ trying to get up.  He dragged himself back to the original side of the wall and patted his body to make sure he was not on fire.  Roland and Kazrack laughed.

Infuriated at the loss of its prey the boar mowed down an orc that had just leapt through the fire to find himself not burned.

There was another cry of commands in orcish as another mailed orc appeared in the brush on the right side of the archer orcs.  At his command, they all turned their bows at Martin once again as the draconic watch-mage appeared above the treeline and wall of fire with Gunthar in his arms.

The watch-mage struggled to keep any arrows from striking Gunthar, and succeeded but lost some lift as his wings flapped madly.  And yet despite this and the flurry of arrows back and forth, Martin the Green managed to lay Gunthar down gently beside Roland as the Bastite cheered.  His last crossbow bolt had knocked one of the orc leaders backward into the bushes.

“Gunthar is dying and needs to be healed!” Martin told the others, and Roland called to Bast to close the warrior’s wounds.  The watch-mage grabbed up his crossbow and began to load it.

“_Littermate of the blood!_” The leader who had been knocked back called up from behind a tree to Ratchis.  “_Why be a slave of men when you can serve Scartesh and be free?_” (3)

Ratchis stood and looked down and it was then that he noticed a third set of orcs creeping out of the trees on the far end of where the wall of flame was (for it winked out of existence in that moment) and beginning to climb the cliff face.  There was a third orc in a chain shirt ordering them to climb.

“_If he keeps the same company perhaps you’ll be lucky to eat the scraps from the ogre’s table!  Do you really wish to be food for the carrion-eaters?_ Ratchis bellowed his answer.

He was answered with an arrow that bit across his forearm.  The half-orc ducked back down and pointed out where the orcs were climbing.  Kazrack ran over to intercept them.  The dwarf peeked over the side.

“They are staggered as to present less of a target,” he moaned.  Bastian moved in beside him and let and arrow go, puncturing the chest of an advancing orc.

“Just what I like to see when I first wake up,” Gunthar smiled up at Roland. “Pussy.”  He slowly got to his feet feeling the strain of his recent wounds deep in his muscles.  “Got anything for exhaustion?”

Roland called to his goddess once again and Gunthar leapt happily to the edge of the cliff to support the others.

Roland moved to a spot along the cliff edge between Kazrack and Ratchis’ positions and fired his crossbow down at the climbing orcs, missing.  However, one of the archer orcs below totally misjudged his shot and ended up striking one of his climbing companions in the back.  The orc slid back down the ridge wall crying out in horror, and splattered lifeless against its base forty feet below.  (4)

“_Climb! Climb! Climb!_ the one of the orcish leaders commanded.  A cry from the other and another volley of arrows came over the wall.  The third leader to appear was now climbing the wall as well, but about half way up he took an arrow from in the shoulder from Bastian and slid back down painfully.  Cursing, the orc ran further down the cliff face and began to climb again.

While a few of the climbing orcs were sent plummeting to their death by the Keepers of the Gate, the steady and staggered arrow fire from the orcs at the edge of the treeline allowed a good number to make it near the top.

One threw itself over the edge and leaping to its feet threw a javelin at Martin, but it bounced away as ineffectually as all the arrows had earlier. Bastian dropped his bow and drew his hammer and ran over to slam it on the top of the head the leader who had also made it to the top by now.  The leader fell all the way down and did not get back up again.

“Oh no!” Roland said after he luckily took a moment to get a get a grip on how the fight was going up and down the line.  “Behind you to the left!”

The others looked up to spy a fourth group of about a dozen orcs already a top the ridge and advancing over the mica-strewn rocks to the east.  They swung battle axes over their head, and were being commanded by another orc in a chain shirt and wielding a short bow.  He barked commands as he sent an arrow towards Kazrack from atop one of the stones in the area.

“If there are even more, we may want to consider disengaging,” Roland suggested.  No one listened to him.  Kazrack dropped his crossbow and brought his halberd to bear.  He took a moment to send another orc plummeting to its death and then moved to cut off the approaching orcs from a spot between two large stones.

Ratchis quickly healed Gunthar twice more in succession and then he and the Neergaardian hurried over to come around the tall stones and pen in the approaching of orcs.

“Outta the way, Stumpy, I’m twice the man you are,” Gunthar said, leaping over a stone to bring his long sword down on the first orc to reach them. The blade rang off the iron helm the orc wore and its blow was driven off line.

“You may be twice a man, but that still doesn’t equal one dwarf!” Kazrack laughed back.  The dwarf caught an orc in the arm-pit with the heavy blade of his halberd, and knocking him into the orc that faced Gunthar.  A follow-up thrust and both orcs were unconscious on the ground, bleeding to death.

A wave of dyed hair-woven cloaks came over the rocks, and when the approaching orcs saw the armor worn by Kazrack and Gunthar, they dropped their battle axes to the ground and half drew their heavy maces (5) and continued to advance. The other half drew their bows and began to send a steady stream of arrows to arc over the clearing to give their compatriots a chance to arrive.  

Ratchis pulled one of the clay vials of the _Blood of Ashronk_ (6) from a pouch and pulled the cork off with his teeth, guzzling down the noxious liquid as he used his great strength to parry the blow of an orc one-handed with his great sword.  He threw the clay vial at a second orc and then brought his sword into both hands feeling the _aid_ of the orc god in his blood.

“_Littermate of the Blood! Drop your weapons and we will not kill you or the soft-ones, but bring you to see Scartesh_,” said a tall orc atop a tall stone thirty feet away. He wore a chain shirt as well, but wielded a long sword and a pick.  His hair was as thick and natty, but dyed green, his face was covered by a purple-color disfigurement. “_Except the stonefolk.  He belongs to Tish-wash!_” 

“_Your bodies will be bloated with the stink of death by evening!_” Ratchis replied.

Tish-wash thumped his chest and then deftly hung his pick from his shoulder and pulled his own clay vial, drinking down the contents.  

“Um, Martin?  I could use a little help back here,” Dorn called, as he fired his crossbow point blank into the face of a climbing orc that reached the top.  But four more were pulling themselves over.  Martin calmly walked over and with an arcane word a spray of many colors washed over the orcs.  All four of them tumbled backward unconscious, tumbling down the cliff face. 

“_Rain of arrows on the lizard man!_” cried one of the orc leaders below when Martin appeared at the edge of the cliff.  More than half a dozen arrows came down atop the watch-mage, but not one could pierce his protections.  Martin looked over the edge and saw two more orcs coming.

“Go and join the others,” Martin told Dorn.  “I can handle this.”

“Good luck,” Dorn replied, and he advanced, firing his crossbow at Tish-wash and striking him dead in the chest.  The orc grunted and dropped down off the stone and temporarily out of view.

There was a chaotic mess of flailing limbs in the area around the stones.

Kazrack grunted as he took two arrows to his right side.  The arrows punctured his plate and bit deep, and then quickly broke off.  He looked up in time to see that Tishwash had snuck around the stone and through the crowd of orcs.  The dwarf felt the crunching bite of the orc leader’s pick.  Kazrack drove Tish-wash back with a heavy blow from the side of his halberd blade, allowing himself the opportunity to get into a better defensive stance.

Gunthar had made his way into the center of the fray and was leaving a trail of dead orcs as he moved, but was bleeding from many wounds once again.

“Grit-suckers and pig-f*ckers!” Gunthar swore, looking around to get a glimpse of Kazrack or Ratchis.  “Always running off.”

He did notice that Roland was once again in panther form and was pouncing on orcs and eviscerating them.

Ratchis had run around the fray to join Bastian who was driving a fifth mailed orc back with many blows of his hammer. Ratchis came rushing in and cleaved the orc’s helmet and head open with a single heavy blow.

Kazrack and Tish-wash’s weapon rung out against each other, and time and again, Kazrack’s armor turned the blows of the tall orc’s sword and pick.  The dwarf thrust his halberd forward and up, catching Tish-wash’s chainshirt near the collar and jerking it upward.  The armor and blade slammed under the orc’s chin and he barely broke off, bringing his weapon back up to a defensive posture.  However, he was bleeding terrible where his neck and jaw had been ripped and smashed.

The orcs up top who had drawn their bows dropped them and joined the fray with maces drawn.

Bastian noticed another of the mailed orc leaders trying to pull himself up to the top of the ridge, so he sent him back down to his death with a hammer-blow.

Ratchis moved into the fray and cutting the legs out from one orc, sent it bleeding to the ground, and then thrust the point of his greatsword through the back of another.  He pivoted to bring himself near Kazrack and jerked the sword free. Gritting his teeth he brought his sword down on a surprised Tish-wash.  The great blade drove down deep between neck and shoulder, driving the orc leader down to his knees, as he dropped his weapon and futilely clawed at the blade for a half a moment.

“_Send the runner!_” he croaked before expiring.  

“_Send the runner!_” Another orc took up the cry.  It was echoed by a cry down below.

“What are they saying, D’nar?” Kazrack asked Ratchis.  He looked up from Tish-wash to noticed only four orcs remained alive up here.  No, he saw a fifth running to scrubs east of their location.

“Something about a runner,” Ratchis replied.

Bastian looked over the edge of the cliff, and the orcs below were melting away into the ash-covered trees.   The dire boar had run off in a random direction.

The orcs up top made to run, but Gunthar felled one with a javelin before it could get far.  A crossbow bolt from Dorn dropped another, and Roland snapped at a  third who had made his way to the cliff edge and was about to climb down.  The orc tumbled down to his death.

A crossbow bolt and one last arrow from Ratchis dropped the last one before it got too far.

“I did not know the orcs had gotten this close to here already,” Kazrack said.

“They haven’t,” Ratchis replied.  “I think this is just a scouting party, sent to scope out the situation and test the strength of resistance.”

“They were camped when I happened upon the filthy pigs,” Gunthar said. He was already dragging the bodies into a pile, but checking their cloaks and belts for any pouches with anything of worth. “I killed two of them and ran.  I thought I lost them, but that one was a  good tracker, I guess.” He pointed to Tish-wash’s corpse.

Ratchis looked at Tish-wash’s crumpled form and a sad expression washed over his scarred face.

“Let’s search these orcs for anything useful and gather up the arrows, we might need them later,” Ratchis finally said.

Roland prowled off, but Bastian and Dorn helped gather the dead orcs and go through their things.  The golden center of Ra’s Glory was visible above the horizon. 

Kazrack picked up Tish-wash’s pick and examined it with a frown.  He then crouched beside the orc leader and looked at he chain shirt on the corpse.

“Could it be…?” Kazrack stroked his beard.  He turned to the others. “These are of very good craft.  Could they have been stolen from dwarves?  No, they are very good, but they are not quite dwarven.”

“Someone else could have learned dwarven craft,” Martin suggested.

Kazrack rolled his eyes.

Ratchis handed the dwarf a broken tablet of solid gold he had found on the orc leader.  It was covered in dwarven runes.  Kazrack held it in his palm and rubbed it.  He put it away for safe keeping along with several dozen gold obleks and nearly twice that many in silver that was found among the orcish leaders.  There were also two masterwork bows.  Gunthar took one and Bastian, the other.

“Who the hell is Beardy?” Gunthar spat, looking at Bastian.

“This is Bastian.  We met him in the city of the Ancients we were forced to journey to in order to unlock the entrance to Hurgun’s Maze,” Martin said.  Bastian put out his hand.

Gunthar spat again.  “I’m not impressed,” he said not taking it. He looked up at the others. “So what’s the plan?”

“What happened?  Why were you delayed?” Roland asked, still in panther form.

Gunthar was startled by the talking panther, but finally replied.

“I told ya.  Deebo double-crossed me.  He turned into a troll! And then suddenly there were three other trolls and I had to get the hell out of there,” Gunthar explained.  “I spent days hiding.”

Kazrack let out a laugh.

“Laugh it up, Stumpy!  I used my head and used some of the smoke-powder to blow them up,” Gunthar laughed.

“So you killed them?” Martin asked.

“Maybe.  Or it might just take them a long time to grow back their bits,” Gunthar replied.

“So what are we doing next?” Kazrack said.

“At this point it is pretty clear that Martin was right and tomorrow is the day we were waiting for,” Ratchis said.  “So we find a place to hole up not too far away, prepare spells, and hope we don’t run into any more trouble.”

“But what about these orcs?  Why are they here?” Dorn asked.

”They mentioned a half-orc I know of from when I was young and still with my tribe,” Ratchis said.  “His name was Scartesh and he was trying to unite all the different tribes under his rule.  My tribe would not join with him.” (7) 

“Do you think he was bringing them together to serve the dragon?” Kazrack asked.

“I don’t think so,” Ratchis said.  “At least not back then, or else my tribe just might have joined with him as we… they worshiped the dragon.”

“So your tribe might have joined them since you left them?” Bastian asked.

“Perhaps,” Ratchis turned away.  “We need to find a place to camp.  I say we go into the woods over there where we can be hidden.”  He pointed to the west.

“Why not a place down in valley?” Bastian asked.

“Down in the valley?” Ratchis was skeptical.  “We need to be able to get here quickly and with relative ease.”

“But I still think we should find a place down in the valley in case we have to hurry down there immediately,” Bastian said.  “I know the area fairly well, and if the orcs come into the valley from the west they’ll be coming right by the amphitheatre.  We are going to want a staging ground nearby.”

“You can just guide us to a place when the time comes,” Kazrack said.

“Things have changed down there,” Bastian replied.

“Let me check my map,” Martin said, taking his pack off his back.  After a few frantic moments searching he looked up at Ratchis. “Did you take the map?”

Ratchis shook his head.

“Richard!” Martin swore.

“Or Logan, or Razzle,” Roland said.

Ratchis sighed and looked at Bastian.  “Go scout and see what you can find, but don’t go all the way down.  It’s dangerous down there.  We’ll head west and you catch up with us, okay?”

Bastian nodded.

The Keepers of the Gate marched westward to where the forested portion of the ridge was thicker, while Bastian made his way north to get a good view of the valley.

The valley itself was quieter, though it belched acrid smoke every once and a while.  And Bastian spotted a phalanx of large fire-wreathed salamanders moving through it, and then disappearing as the smoke became a jet of water that roared for a moment, and then all was quiet again. About an hour later he joined the other and described an outcropping of rock was halfway to the amphitheatre and gave good cover from above.  

As the others settled into camp, Ratchis crept around  trying to cover signs of their passage.  The spot was protected by three large fallen trees and thick ash-covered growth above and between them.  They then all did their best to prepare spells. 

“I can use the miracle of softening earth and stone to  make deadfalls around the camp,” Kazrack offered afterwards.

“Better to save it,” Martin replied.  “If more orcs come and try to climb up the ridge wall you can send them all sliding back down to their deaths with that spell.”

“Good idea,” Kazrack smiled.

Just after noon there was the sound of another crack and explosion from the valley.  From where the camp was they could not see what was happening, so Ratchis crept off through the ash-covered undergrowth to take a look.  Bastian sent up N’kron to look as well.

Ratchis was shocked by what he saw.  The tiered cliffs of the amphitheatre were crumbling.  Huge sections of stone were sliding down in wedges throwing up great clouds of dust, and there was a rumbling in the earth.  For a moment he saw the canvas tents and other gear of the camped monks go hurling up into the air and then it disappeared into the landside of rock, dust, ash and trees.

He hurried back to camp and led the others to a secluded spot to watch what was happening.  The rumbling grew louder as they approached, and they arrived in time to see something huge that rising out of the earth where the amphitheatre had been.

“What is happening?” asked Roland.

“It looks like the fortress of Hurgun’s Maze is rising up,” Ratchis replied.

“Or else the denizens of the Plutonic Realms are rising,” Kazrack said.

”I think they’d be quieter,” Bastian said in his quiet clipped tone.  The others assumed it was his way of making a joke.

“I doubt the monks upon that cliff could have survived that fall,” Martin the Green theorized.

“Probably, but we should not make that assumption,” Roland said. “I have seen monks do some amazing things.”

“Really?” Kazrack was surprised.  “All we have seen them do is get defeated by us and then we let them go at Beorth’s request, only to fight them again.” 

There was another nearly deafening crack as the area of the ridge that had been the amphitheatre broke away from the rest of it creating a deep chasm.  They could now see water bubbling up around the rising fortress.

It took nearly an hour for the fortress to finish rising and still twenty minutes later a cloud of dust hung around it, but it was fairly clear: Where the tiered cliffs known as ‘the amphitheatre’ had been there was now a fortress with tall stone walls, and five staggered towers on the rear wall above the great cracked chasm that had developed between the fortress and the ridge. The towers were so tall they dwarfed the top of the ridge.  The four outer towers were square and tiered, with steps running up the side from the battlements below.  They were all the same height. While the middle of the five towers was nearly forty feet taller than the others and more like a black metallic tube that spurted smoke.  Atop the four other towers were tall stone statues upon stone pedestals that ranged from fifteen to twenty feet tall, but it was still difficult to make out the details of them from this distance.

The rest of the fortress seemed rather like any other fortress with thick lower walls dotted wih squat square towers topped with ramparts, and tiered plazas surrounded by outer buildings.  The place was quiet and seemed deserted.

“So do we stay here?” Martin the Green asked as the party headed back to their camp.

“Of course,” Ratchis replied.  “The hope is the beam of light will strike where in the fortress we need to go to get into Hurgun’s Maze.”

“It looks like I was right and we’re going to have to climb down into the valley to get in there,” Bastian said.

“Let’s see where the beam strikes before we decide what route to take,” Ratchis said.

“Okay, but I don’t see that we have much choice,” Bastian said. He called mentally to N’kron, who told him more of the fortress’ layout that the familiar had seen from the sky.  Bastian conveyed this to the others.

“So the plan is to see where this beam of light hits in the fortress and make our way there before anyone stops us without anyone else noticing where it is we are trying to go?” Bastian asked.

The others nodded.

“So who else is looking for this place again?” He continued.

“A half-demon gnome named Mozek, his mother who is some kind of demon-queen, the monks that hopefully all just got killed, and Richard the Red and his friends,” Ratchis said.  “Oh, and maybe a warlock named Rindalith.”

“Who’s Rindalith?” Bastian asked.

The afternoon was spent back at camp going over the story of Jana and Rindalith, and covering some other details of their adventures that both Bastian and Roland were curious about.

Many hours later as Ratchis, Bastian and Gunthar slept, Roland sat in panther-form, as still as a statue, the perfume of his gifted _incense of meditation_ (9) filling his feline nostrils, not quite asleep but in a deep holy trance. Kazrack and Dorn were awake, taking second watch, along with Martin who spent most of his extended awake time reading, and now trying to redraw his maps from memory, Dorn sighed and said, “I guess I am going into Hurgun’s Maze.”

“Are you?” Martin asked, looking up from his book.

“I wasn’t sure, but now…”

“The more hands the better,” Kazrack said. “Only a coward would walk away, or one who feels like the world’s well-being is not his responsibility.”

“I’m not sure,” Dorn said.

“You should go,” reiterated Kazrack.

”Oh, I’m going,” Dorn replied. “I’m just not sure the world’s well-being is my responsibility.”


Ralem, the 1st of Ese – 565 H.E. 

In the dead of night, Martin the Green woke the others at the end of the second watch.  It had been agreed ahead of time that the party would wake early move to the mica-strewn area and wait for morning there.  Martin could get his two hours of sleep while the others watched for the sun on the horizon.

As they marched once again, Bastian pulled up along side Martin.

“Martin, there was something else I was wondering,” the bearded warrior said.  “How come Gothanius has two watch-mages when most places have only one?”

“Hmmm? Two?”

“Richard the Red.”

“Richard is not the watch-mage here,” Martin replied. “He betrayed his oath and thinks everything he does is right based on his intentions regardless of the consequences.”

“Well, he _said_ he was the watch-mage,” Bastian said.

“He is not above saying anything for his own advantage,” Martin explained.

At the barren rocky area where the rotted corpses of orcs were still piled, Martin unrolled his bedroll and grabbed his two hours of sleep while the others spread out hoping to get the best vantage point for the coming dawn.

This time of year Ra’s Glory rose slightly more south than the rest of year, and soon after the first light came in from the east all the bits of mica all over the ridge top in this area were sparkling as they not had the morning before.  Suddenly as a third of the sun came of the horizon, the whole area glistened as sparkles of light leapt from stone to stone and a moment later a beam of light could be seen cutting across the clearing from one stone to another and out into the valley, but it died before it reached the fortress.  A few moments later a second stronger beam appeared across the clearing from it, and was reflected into the first beam making it stretch out further across the gulf, but still it did not make it.  Then there was a third beam and then a fourth, and they all focused together to send the beam of light across the valley.  

Martin awoke and crawled to his feet to visually follow the beam with the rest of the Keepers of the Gate.

It struck near the top of the easternmost tower, but then began to slowly move to the west.  Curious, Bastian stepped out of the clearing to see what kind of the view of the beam others could get from elsewhere on the ridge, and he noticed that even just a few dozen yards away the beam could not be seen.  He hurried back to join the others to see the beam of light slow down as it struck the base of the statue atop the next tower in.  

“I think there is a door where it strikes,” Ratchis said.

“Yes, I think I see it, too” Roland said.

But the beam of light kept moving, this time rising up to strike the statue itself.  Down in the valley the reverberation of a lone trumpet could be heard, and in a moment it was answered by a rising clamor of horns and drums from beyond the unseen western entrance to the valley. (8)

The beam continued to point to the statue for half a minute and then the sun shifted again and it was gone.

“We are being watched!” Martin cried, he saw the normally _invisible_ sensor of a scrying spell hanging above Ratchis’ head.

“Who is it?” Kazrack asked.

“Mozek,” the watch-mage said with fear in his voice as he saw the image of the half-fiend gnome behind his closed eyes.  Their scaly green-skinned nemesis smiled and strings of yellow spit expanded from his sharp black teeth inside his impossibly wide mouth.  Mozek’s eyes gleaming green eyes flashed as he stood from his frosted ball of crystal and climbed a some large purple blur behind him that suddenly came to view.  The creature’s visage was blocked for a moment as something dark flapped in front of the sphere, but then Martin could see what Mozek had mounted.  It was a black and purple scaled wyrm mottled with tarnished copper.  It had two legs, a snake-like body and a sharp black stinger on its long spindly tail.   It flew off as the vision faded.  

“He is mounting his hell-beast,” Martin said, his shoulders sagging. “He is coming.”

*End of Session #88*


----------



## el-remmen

---------------------------------------
*Notes:*
(1)	These are the Gu’tarsh, a tribe of orcs that makes an appearance in _the Story of Ratchis_.

(2)	*DM’s Note:* Martin was protected by _shield_, _mage armor_ and by +6 natural armor from his form.

(3)	Translated from Orcish – as is all other complete dialogue between Ratchis and the orcs in _italics_

(4)	*DM’s Note:* The orc archer fumbled, rolling a “Hit Friend” result.

(5)	*DM’s Note:* Aquerra uses weapon type vs. armor rules. For the details check: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Armor

(6)	You can read about the _Blood of Ashronk_ here: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Magical+Item+-+Blood+of+Ashronk

(7) Again, for more about this see _the Story of Ratchis_.

(8) Again, see this map to see the area of Greenreed Valley and the ‘amphitheatre’, but actually the map is more than slightly off in that area and the ‘amphitheatre’ should stick into the valley further east and south, basically facing into the center of the valley.

(9) Roland of Bast was granted the _Incense of Meditation_ by Chochokpi in Session #84


----------



## Manzanita

Wow.  I'm so excited that they're finally at the maze.  I think the KOG should be congratulated for keeping their eyes on the prize and finally making it.


----------



## Dawn

Wow.  All those opposing factions converging on this one spot.  Shaping up to be a big show-down.

Just want to add that I too like the insight from your commentaries on the sessions.  Good information and good view into what you were thinking while running the game.  Keep them coming!


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Sounds like Ratchis has cleave, and was finally able to use it.  Or did I misinterpret the writing?

Excellent update BTW.

GW


----------



## Ratchis

I have cleave. I will use the present tense since we have a reunion game coming up already to continue the story a bit.



			
				Graywolf-ELM said:
			
		

> Sounds like Ratchis has cleave, and was finally able to use it.  Or did I misinterpret the writing?
> 
> Excellent update BTW.
> 
> GW


----------



## Ciaran

Martin's spells had a bigger impact on other battles, but this is the one where he felt the most like a badass.  The orcs must have fired a good 40 arrows at him, and only one or two actually hit.  Wimpy orcs!


----------



## el-remmen

Ciaran said:
			
		

> . . . only one or two actually hit.  Wimpy orcs!




Actually, I remember it as none hit you and according to the round by round notes that Jon (i.e. Roland's player) took that I used to write this up, that was the case.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Ciaran said:
			
		

> Martin's spells had a bigger impact on other battles, but this is the one where he felt the most like a badass.  The orcs must have fired a good 40 arrows at him, and only one or two actually hit.  Wimpy orcs!




That, I think is the fun of playing a character of this level against Orcs, or some other lower level creature with large numbers.  Fighters and barbarians shine with their battle feats, and wizards/mages/sorcerors shine with their buff spells and useful niche spells that don't always get used agains the BBEG.   I like to throw waves of creatures against the shores of my players and let them use those feats and spells.  Sometimes those combats as you mention, can build the confidence of a group.  And sometimes, you have to smash that confidence.  hehehehe.

Sorry got carried away.  It looked like a fun combat.

GW


----------



## el-remmen

Once again I realized that I missed a small detail in the last installment, so I went back and added it (along with accompanying footnote).  I would have just forgotten about it, but it is a detail that becomes more important in the fight against Mozek.

I have quoted the changed part below:



> Many hours later as Ratchis, Bastian and Gunthar slept, Roland sat in panther-form, as still as a statue, the perfume of his gifted _incense of meditation_ (9) filling his feline nostrils, not quite asleep but in a deep holy trance. Kazrack and Dorn were awake, taking second watch, along with Martin who spent most of his extended awake time reading, and now trying to redraw his maps from memory, Dorn sighed and said, “I guess I am going into Hurgun’s Maze.”


----------



## Richard Rawen

GAH !

Both you and LB are building up to this big finale... it may be 20 posts away yet but it's still Building and BUILDING !

I need caffiene.

er...


----------



## Gold Roger

_*Realizes he hasn't posted on this update jet*_

Ok, we all know it just can't be that simple about the monks.Their numbers are propably reduced though, and they are most likely scattered, so they won't be one big fight.

Morzek takes the direct route, eh? I'll love to see that little bastard in a puddle of his own blood, such dispicable creature. I guess the PC's would have confronted him earlier had they investigated the wyvern? I hope mommy will make an appearance as well before the campaign ends.

How could I forget Rindalith?

Great update all around, some interesting info on the orcs. It will be exciting how this all will end eventually.


----------



## el-remmen

Richard Rawen said:
			
		

> GAH !
> 
> Both you and LB are building up to this big finale...




LB?


----------



## el-remmen

Okay, I just finished writing up all of Session #89 and the awesome and horrible battle that comprises most of it (and that is only the first half!). It came out to something like 13 or 14 pages.

Now I am going to get dressed and go out for a Memorial Day picnic/barbeque and when I return I will give it the once over for mistakes and such and then post it. 

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.


----------



## BlackCat

It's nearly 26 hours later and no update yet! Get on with it!


----------



## el-remmen

BlackCat said:
			
		

> It's nearly 26 hours later and no update yet! Get on with it!





I know you are stuck house-sitting and bored this weekend, so time must be going slow - but still I don't see how 5 1/2 hours translates to 26.


----------



## BlackCat

el-remmen said:
			
		

> I know you are stuck house-sitting and bored this weekend, so time must be going slow - but still I don't see how 5 1/2 hours translates to 26.



Good question! Very funny...but I have a better question for you:
Shouldn't you be spending time posting instead of asking funny questions?


----------



## el-remmen

BlackCat said:
			
		

> Shouldn't you be spending time posting instead of asking funny questions?




Maybe if you stopped interupting me I could get it done.  Instead, I am only on page 8 of 13 in terms of reading through and editing. . . I could be posting an actual update instead of wasting time here.


----------



## BlackCat

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Maybe if you stopped interupting me I could get it done.  Instead, I am only on page 8 of 13 in terms of reading through and editing. . . I could be posting an actual update instead of wasting time here.



So...is that a yes?


----------



## el-remmen

_I hope you enjoy this half as much as we did playing through it.  Great times. . ._

*Session #89 (complete)* (1)

The Keepers of the Gate jogged at high speed though the ash-covered trees and brush, and over and around the large rocks of the ridge to make their way towards the great chasm that had appeared between it and the amphitheatre turned fortress.

Again they heard the horns and clamor from the western entrance to Greenreed Valley.  

“I don’t understand why we aren’t going directly into the valley,” Bastian said in his quiet voice as he paused alongside Martin the Green.  The watch-mage had stopped a moment to catch his breath, the ash burning his lungs and making his normally bright green robes into something much drabber.

“Ratchis believes, and I agree, that we need to find away across  the chasm and directly to the tower the light pointed to,” Martin explained.  “We need to hope we can get in right away and maybe outrun or get by our foes.  Going through the valley will take too long, and we don’t know what it is that is making all that noise down there.”

“I have an idea what it is,” Bastian said, and with that he continued to run.   Ratchis was way out ahead scouting, and asked Bastian to lead the rest of the party and make sure they stayed together.

It was a nearly two hour march to the edge of the woods on the north side of this part of the ridge.  The Keepers of the Gate passed many burned out areas that were nothing but swaths of black ash and scorched stumps, but they were still surprised when the wood ended so abruptly, as if a whole section had been burned away methodically.   A few hundred yards across the clearing yawned the new chasm, and across from that the island of rock the fortress sat upon and its rear wall and towers.

“I’m going to scout ahead,” Ratchis said.  “The rest of you stay here.”

”I am coming with…” Roland said, his blue-black fur rippling in the steady breeze that blew in from the southwest.  The half-orc said nothing and took off, sulking among the blackened remains of trees and blasted rocks.  The Bastite trailed after.

They crept up to the edge and the wind echoed in the empty yards of the fortress.  They could see the inner buildings much more clearly now.  There were long barracks, stables, covered wells, and storage huts, all made of dull grey stone.  The four tall rear towers, two on each side of the great black smoke-spewing slightly tapered stack, glistened in places where it was traced with a yellow stone of some kind, and the top were square spirals of marble steps that led to the top.  The steps were guarded by a low fortified wall cut with crenels, and enclosed turrets at different levels at each corner. The statue atop the stone pedestal on the tower they sought was a man of stone nearly twenty feet tall.  Stylistically,  what made it interesting, was the unparalleled craftsmanship and seamlessness of the carving of the stone that seemed almost to draw breath it looked so real, with the juxtaposition of crude raw stone pocked with randomly occurring quartz formations that made up portions of the back and the limbs.  It seemed to have been made that way on purpose.

Ratchis and Roland crept to their left to see past the fortress to the valley entrance.  There seemed to be a multitude of black figures marching into the valley and coming down towards the fortress.

“Did you see that?” Ratchis pointed, and  Roland saw it too.  The far ridge wall seemed to ripple for a moment, as if the stone were flowing, but then it was clear what they were seeing. Four or five great brown hairy beasts, with long muscular noses and great white tusks.

Ratchis’ eye was drawn back to the fortress by movement among the towers.  He snorted and headed back to the others. Roland quickly followed.

Meanwhile, the others were going over options for crossing the chasm.  Martin did not have enough _levitation_ spells prepared to affect everyone, and even then he wondered aloud.  How would they get across without horizontal impetus?

“I could use the miracles my gods grant me to make a stone bridge out to the towers,” Kazrack offered.  “But it depends on how far it is.”

“The fortress still looks empty, but I saw swirls of air among the towers,” Ratchis said when he returned.

“Like leaves?” Kazrack asked.

“Kind of, but more like the black funnels that come out of the sky in a storm,” Ratchis explained.  “Violent and quick and gone as soon as I noticed it.  I think they were elementals.”

“I didn’t see it,” Roland added.

The Friar of Nephthys went on to describe the multitude of orcs marching into the valley and the great beasts they brought with them.

“That sounds like mammoths,” Martin said with awe in his voice.  “But I thought they were extinct except perhaps for a few pockets in the Northern Reaches.”

“Who said that?” Ratchis asked.  “Where did you learn that?”

“The Academy of Wizardry,” the watch-mage replied.

“It seems they were in error,” Roland said.

“I need to take a look at the chasm and see if I can make a bridge that will reach it,” Kazrack said.

“I doubt it,” Ratchis replied.  “It is about one hundred and twenty-five yards, maybe one-fifty across.”

“Hmm,” Kazrack scratched under his beard and then combed it with his fingers. “What if I shaped some kind of stone platform and you levitated that?”

“As long as it didn’t weigh too much so I could also lift the weight of the party atop it with the spell,” Martin replied and then snapped his fingers.  “And then I can turn into my Tanweil-form and fly across pushing the weightless platform!”

“Okay, we have a plan.  Let’s go,” Roland said.  “We don’t know how long it will take Mozek to get here, but we don’t want to be caught going over the chasm when he does.”

Ratchis nodded, and once again he led the way.  The Keepers of the Gate made it to the edge of the cliff and examined the gulf.  Water splashed among sharp stones over one hundred feet below.  Kazrack began to think of the best way to make his platform.

“If we only had a boat,” Dorn said.

“I have a boat,” Bastian said in his quiet way.

“You do?” Martin turned to him.

“No, no… a boat is a bad idea,” Kazrack said.

“Kazrack, the boat won’t be on the water,” Roland said, snarkily. 

The dwarf shook his head.

“Where is this boat?” Martin asked Bastian.

“Right here,” Bastian pulled a patch from his _Robe of the Wayfarer_ and tossed it to the ground.  Suddenly there was a ‘pop’ and in its place was a long wooden rowboat and two oars.

“You weren’t supposed to use that!” Martin brought both hands to his face in shock. (2)

Bastian shrugged his shoulders.

“I do not trust boats,” Kazrack said.  “Especially a magical boats that was a patch on a robe a moment ago.”

“It isn’t magical,” Bastian said.  “It is a normal boat now.  Go ahead… _Detect_.”

“No need,” Martin said.  “Bastian is right, Kazrack, and since we have it, a boat will be much more stable and easier to keep everyone in and push.”

“N’kron tells me a great bird is coming,” Bastian said.

“Who?” asked Kazrack.

“My hawk,” Bastian replied. “He said, a bird, but not a bird.  I think it is Mozek’s hellbeast.”

“How far?” Ratchis asked.

“Hard to tell. N’kron expresses things certain things in a bird kind of way that can be hard to interpret,” Bastian said. “I think about fifteen minutes, maybe ten.”

“We should wait here for Mozek to come,” Roland said.  “If we go to the fortress now we might have to fight him and the place’s guardians at once.”

Bastian nodded.

Ratchis shook his head.  “Mozek may have seen where we need to go and if so, he will avoid us and simply try to get into the Maze.”

“We need to bring the fight to him,” Kazrack agreed.

“Why waste our resources fighting him?” Roland said.  “We should wait here.  If he comes we’ll be ready for him, and if he goes straight into the fortress we can let whatever defenses Hurgun had weaken, or even kill him for us. And maybe he can eliminate some of those defenses making it easier for us to get through.”

“And I have not gotten a chance to summon my patron and ask him what he might tell me of the defense of Hurgun’s Maze,” Bastian said, as the wind began to pick up. “He is a denizen of the earth plane, he may have helpful knowledge.  But that takes time.”

“I prefer you not practice your witchcraft on our behalf,” Kazrack said.

“We cannot afford to waste time, or hope that the defenses will kill him for us,” Ratchis said.  “This is our responsibility.”

“We cannot leave this to luck,” Kazrack said.  “Martin, what do you think?”

“We are wasting time and should have left by now,” the watch-mage replied.

”Ya, friggin’ pansy and the Beard are afraid of a little demon-gnome,” Gunthar smirked. “Let’s go rips his nose off and shove it up his bleeding ass!”

“We’ll vote,” said Ratchis.

”I vote to wait,” said Bastian.

“I refuse to vote.  It’s pointless,” Roland pouted.

Dorn, Gunthar, Martin, Kazrack and Ratchis voted to go.

”And we should go _now_ so we are not caught in mid-air,” Martin said, and with a flick of his wrist holding a leather thong tied in a loop at one end and an arcane word the boat began to hover.   Another word and another gesture and his features melted and swelled as he changed into a nearly seven foot tall green scaled humanoid with black wings and blue-gray eyes.  Ratchis followed this up with a _Bull’s Strength_ on the transformed watch-mage, and granted one to Kazrack as well.  Kazrack cast _Magic Circle Against Evil_ on Martin, and then everyone got in the boat.  Ratchis was at the front, with Gunthar right behind him. Dorn and Roland rode in the middle and Kazrack was in the stern, sitting in the bottom and holding on tightly.

“I reserve the right to say I told you so if this turns out badly,” Roland said.  

Martin pushed the weightless boat out over the chasm and then began to hastily flap his new form’s wings, willing the boat to rise ever so slightly as to create a gentle slope up to the tower they needed to get to.  The view from up here was amazing, and soon they all could see scores and scores of tiny black figures gathering around the outer gates of the fortress. They could see the tall statues on the other towers.  The far western one had some abstract strands of stone the entwined with one another, and from within every few moments puff of cloud would emanate from it and then quickly dissipate.  Atop the next tower was great stone lantern and within it leapt a dancing flame of orange and blue.  The easternmost tower’s statue was part of an elaborate fountain that shot up three swirling snakes of water.

The Bastite turned to look where they had come from and pointed down.  “Look!”

The rest of the party looked back to see three robed forms lying partially crushed against a protrusion on the cliff face.  No one had bothered to look down close enough to spot the fallen monks when the Keepers of the Gate had been at the edge.

“Why do I feel like that was a missed opportunity?” Roland sighed.  The going was slow as Martin struggled to keep the momentum to fly while pushing the weight of the party forward.

Ratchis called to Nephthys and cast _magic weapon_ on his great sword.

“Look there!” Ratchis said pointing up into the sky ahead of the boat and to the right.  They could all see a dark winged form coming down out of the distant sky and getting bigger every second.  It would be on them in less than a minute’s time. (3) 

Ratchis sheathed his great sword and called to Nephthys to let him read auras of magic.  “The door and statue are magical,” he said, drawing his bow and getting back to keeping an eye on the approaching wyvern.

“This Mozek, will my _holy smite_ spell be a good choice against him?” Roland asked Kazrack.

“Yes,” the dwarf nodded.

“Just don’t catch Gunthar in the blast or he might get hurt,” Ratchis said, overhearing.

As the purple and copper-colored wyrm descended, acrid steam roiling off it waves, the Keepers of the Gate could see Mozek on its back.  The half-fiend gnome’s white and yellow hair was whipping wildly back from his green-scaled face. He wore a chainshirt and had a short sword on his hip.  Behind him on the monster was another gnome with a green complexion, but with golden hair and big swollen orange lips. She had bat-like wings that snapped out reflexively to keep her steady as the thing came down.  

The wyvern’s spiked tail whipped wildly in the wind, and then the party noted that it held something in each of its claws. In one was a third gnome dressed in plate and gripping a battle-axe in both hands. This gnome’s hair was green and black and his face was hideously burned on one side of his face.  In the other claw was a strange creature like a pyramid of flesh with an arm and a leg stretching out from three of its sides and a large eye to go with each.

“Modron,” (4) Martin hissed as he continued to push, the forked tongue of his altered form flicking between his fangs.  The tower was now less than thirty feet away. 

“Oh, great queen Bast!  Thou who art as graceful as thou art powerful! I call upon your holy power to smite these fiends and their servants!” Roland roared.  There was a burst of holy energy that obscured the wyvern and its passengers for half a moment.  The wyvern screeched a painful scream and its dive became a tumble.

Ratchis and Gunthar prepared themselves to leap from the boat to the tower as it came within reach, keeping an eye on the plummeting wyvern that looked like it might slam into the side of the tiered steps of the earth tower.  However, Mozek Steamwind pulled on the reins of his mount with all his might and the wyvern pulled its blind head (5) up and lowered its wings slowing its descent in hopes of actually landing atop the tower and not slamming into the side.

The demon-gnome giggled with perverse excitement and flicked his hand towards the boat.  Four small objects came slamming into Ratchis’ chest and he felt them burn as his muscles cramped up painfully.  He looked down and saw four writhing fingers on the boat bottom and he stepped on them, still grimacing through the pain. (6)  

The prow of the boat bumped against the tower side and Ratchis and Gunthar came leaping off firing arrows at Mozek and the wyvern, which were still falling too fast.  The winged female gnome finally had enough and took off from the thing’s back darting to her left.  And a hunk of the battlement exploded, huge chunks plummeting down into the chasm below as the wyvern landed awkwardly on the stairs thirty feet below the top level on the right side of the tower and then slammed into the wall.

It roared in its blind agony buffeting its wings against the stairs and wall as it struggled to get back to the air.  The wyvern was huge.  Its body nearly twenty-five feet long and its tail nearly thirty. (7) 

By this time Kazrack was off the boat and casting _protection from evil_ upon himself, while Dorn hustled off ducking behind the statue’s pedestal, around the corner from the door beneath it.  He readied his crossbow.  Roland raced across the top of the tower to stand by Dorn, but was startled by a whirlwind of dirt and leaves that came racing across  the lower fortress wall and up onto the tower. It howled in an inhuman voice. For a second, the Bastite swore the air itself took the form of  winged humanoid with a great sword, and then the whirlwind buffeted against Dorn, and the warrior was forced to lean against the pedestal wall to keep from falling over.

Bastian loaded his crossbow and was slowly creeping to the tower edge to look down at the wyvern..

Martin nimbly flipped the weightless boat around and dragged it behind him as he moved towards Dorn and the air guardian. “_Sanctus terrae abjurus auram!_” the watch-mage chanted and with a  ‘whoosh’ the air creature was driven back to its home plane.

“Stay spread out in case that thing has a breath weapon,” Ratchis barked, moving to the far side of the tower to perhaps get a look down from the opposite side of Bastian.

Gunthar, however, made straight for the edge and fired an arrow into the flank of the writhing wyvern.  He could see the plate-mailed gnome on one knee catching his breath two levels down, and the pyramidical modron lying on one of its faces, askew upon the steps, unmoving.  It was near the door into the tower itself.  The Neergaardian leapt back as the flying golden haired female gnome began to fire arrows down at him with incredible speed.  The others watched him dodge as the wyvern took off again swooping down towards the fortress courtyard, but then snapping back up and flipping around deftly to come racing back.  They could see Mozek was still on its back.  

“Hee! Hee! Time to play with Tinka!” said the gold haired half-fiend as she flitted back and forth, bow in hand.

Kazrack moved to the other side of the tower to look down and see the steps below near the lower wall.  There was no one there to see.

The wyvern turned quickly and soon was heading back around to swoop by. Roland hurried around the pedestal with Dorn to join Ratchis as Mozek drew a scroll from a case on his side and spoke the foul arcane words.  A splurting and farting wall of green and black ooze popped out of thin air bisecting top of the tower and blocking the door in the pedestal.  The wall was ten feet tall and over fifty feet long, slime and pus dripping off the edge of the steps to the top.  It wheezed and popped as pseudo-pods of slime and ooze whipped about its surface.

Curious, Bastian fired a crossbow bolt into the wall and it disintegrated.

“Beware the wall,” Martin hissed in warning, still in his reptilian form. “It melts metal and flesh!” (8)  He was on the same side of the wall as Kazrack, Bastian and Gunthar.  

The dwarf harrumphed and called to his gods.  Shaping a bit of clay in his hands, he caused the stone floor of the tower roof melt and stretch up creating a narrow passage beneath the ooze about four feet high.

Ratchis called to Nephthys to _restore_ him, and he felt some of the tightness leave his muscles.

Dorn fired arrows at the wyvern as it flipped over around to return, Mozek gripping tightly and screaming with joy at the rush of it. Gunthar fired arrows at the female gnome and missed.

“Oh Great Queen Bast! Please blast these fiends back to oblivion with your holy searing light!” Roland called to his goddess.  He opening his mouth and out came a beam of white holy light that exploded against the chest of the wyvern as it came in once again to swoop across the roof of the tower.  

“Aaaaaaaaaah!” Mozek screamed as he frantically yanked up on the reigns of his fiendish mount, but it flopped down lifeless sending another rain of dust and rock as it smashed against the stairs and wall below. (9) The tower shook and rumbled and the Keepers of the Gate allowed themselves enough momentary joy to cheer. When the sound had settled they heard they heavy steps of the plate mailed gnome coming up the steps around the tower.  Dorn moved to the edge and took a shot down at the gnome as it hurried around the corner out of view.  He missed.

Kazrack moved over to the edge of the roof on his side of the tower, throwing axe in hand, waiting for Mozek to come into view.

Bastian chanted in dwarven and soon a tiny ball of flame was in his right hand. He threw it at the squirming and fetid wall of ooze (at the spot where it obscured the door beneath the statue), and a very little bit of it burned away, but mostly it was still there.  A second tongue of flame did about the same amount of damage.

“_Invisus Majorius_ Martin chanted and slapped Gunthar on the shoulder.  “You’re invisible.”

Unfortunately, the flying archer gnome took a shot at Martin the Green now that she could no longer see Gunthar, but the invisible Neergaardian was in the way and felt the bite of an arrow in his shoulder.  The watch-mage lifted the weightless boat to act as an awkward shield.

“Nephthys! I call on you to break the ties that bind this foul magic together,” Ratchis called to his goddess to cast _dispel magic_ upon the wall of ooze, but nothing happened.

Gunthar called out profanity in crude gnomish (10) to the flying half-fiend and fired two arrows at her.  She tried to block them with her bracers of bone, but instead they clipped her arm and thigh.

“Here!” the gnome giggled in the common tongue and grabbed at her crotch and made a mock seductive face.  “Taste the smell of my p*ssy!”  She flicked a finger and a cold, cloying miasma of greasy darkness enveloped burst about Martin, Gunthar, Kazrack and Bastian.  They all felt an ache in their lungs and in their soul, though Bastian was able to resist the worst of it.  Martin and Kazrack stomachs turned and cramped and their eyes watered as they could not get the taste foul burned rotten fish and ash, the smell of evil, out of their mouths and nose. (11)

Roland slipped beneath the wall to the other side of the tower by way of Kazrack’s tunnel, while the dwarf finally seeing Mozek come around the corner just one level down threw his axe down at the gnome.  Mozek side-stepped with a grin as if he were doing a jig and spoke some whispered arcane words.  Suddenly, Kazrack saw the form of his mother rise before him.  She was an animated and bloated corpse with strands of kelp tangled in her beard and part of her face was gnawed away.

“Mother!  Nooooo!” Kazrack cried in dwarven as she reached out and grabbed him about the neck with preternatural strength and began to crush his throat with her fingers.  “Mother! No!” Kazrack cried again and he was finally able to tear himself free as he felt his life-force threaten to slip away from the overwhelming fear he experienced.   He was panting, but the vision was gone.

Martin meanwhile had made it to the edge as well and chanted his faithful spell, “_Lentus_, trying to affect both Mozek and the mailed gnome that was coming around the corner up the steps.  The spell failed.  Ratchis and Dorn followed Roland beneath the wall of ooze.  The half-orc rolled as four arrows came down at him as Tinka swooped by. Gunthar got a bead on her and returned fire, missing with one arrow, and the other bounced off to no effect. 

“Your holes are too small for even my human nose,” Gunthar cursed at her, but unable to see him she continued to ignore him.

Ratchis limped to his feet as three arrows had caught him in the legs.  Roland called to Bast with a roar and then rubbed against the ranger’s legs curing the half-orc of some of his moderate wounds.

“Damn you, Mozek!” Kazrack cried, pulling his halberd as leapt down the ten feet to the gnome.  “Damn you and the Hells you come from!”  Unfortunately he landed awkwardly and lost his footing, landing on his rear end with little dignity.  He hopped right back up to his feet, but was flanked by Mozek and the battle-axe wielding gnome.

“Mister Delver, it is my pleasure to introduce you to my brother, Ajax,” Mozek said, again side-stepping and this time tipping his head in a mock bow.  “Ajax, make Mister Delver feel welcome.”

The squarely built gnome burst at the seems of his armor as he huffed and puffed and screeched, his green eyes turning fiery red.  He brought his axe down on Kazrack and the dwarf’s breast plate screeched in protest as the shining heavy blade cleaved a large deep score in it.  Kazrack stepped back and the axe quickly raised up slamming him in the chin and cracking a tooth.  The tip of the curved blade punctured the skin of his neck.  The dwarf brought his halberd into a defensive position to block the berserk gnome’s frenzied blows.  For a second he felt a sense of confusion wash over him as he noticed blood dropping from his face on to his armor, but he shook it off. (12)

However, Mozek stepped up behind Kazrack and touched him with an outstretched finger.  The rune-thrower spun around as he felt some of his life-force drained in time to see some of Mozek’s bruises fade.  They had been healed by the gnome’s _vampiric touch_.

“Mmm, dwarf blood,” the gnome smiles and licked the end of his finger.  “Rich in minerals.”

Bastian continued to try to batter the wall where it covered the door with the flame he produced, while Martin tried his _slow_ spell again to no avail.  Gunthar and Tinka continued to exchange arrows, and Ratchis chugged the contents of one of his clay flasks, feeling his orcish blood charged with the energy of their one-eyed god.  

“Kazrack! Let us strike with righteous fury!” the half-orc cried as he leapt over the side to join the melee, great sword in hand.

Roland moved to the edge as well, to see Ratchis behind Mozek and moving in.  The Bastite leapt down deftly and purring rubbed against Kazrack’s side and healed the dwarf with a _Cure Critical Wounds_ spell that had been empowered, like all his spells, by the _Incense of Meditation_.  The dwarf twisted around the panther and brought the blade of his halberd down on the distracted Mozek, but with blinding speed the half-fiend gnome had short sword in had and knocked away one blow. He then danced aside to avoid the other, whistling a happy work-song.

Mozek tried to dance around Ratchis, but the half-orc could hardly be more prepared. He slashed a nasty blow against the gnome’s side and chest as Mozek went by, and the fiend grimaced, but ducked around the corner of the steps to the final set that led to roof.  Ratchis did not hesitate and went around the corner as well, catching the gnome with a  bruising blow on his back against his fine chain shirt.

“Watch yourselves up there!” Ratchis called to whoever was still up on the roof, as he stepped up on to it to follow the gnome and stay on the same side of the dripping wall of ooze.

Ajax brought his axe down into Roland’s the rear flank and the Bastite drew away as the pain exploded in his leg, and he could feel the sticky blood in his black fur.    He felt relief as he saw Martin the Green drop a furry ball down onto the steps from above.  The fist-sized ball burst into a boar that immediately charged Ajax.  The watch-mage also let the boat hover there, letting it go.

Kazrack was looking back and forth, not sure if he should aid Ratchis or stay and deal with Ajax when he heard the flap of wings above and behind him.  He turned around in time to see Tinka loose an arrow that while missing him, exploded into a ball of flame when it struck the wall behind him.  He ducked and rolled, but he felt a burning in his lungs aggravated by the stench of his singed beard. 

Gunthar and Dorn both leapt down to the lower level steps a slight distance from the melee.  The former put away his bow and drew both his sword and began walking towards Ajax.  The latter lost his footing when he landed and ended up face down on the steps.  He got up slowly rubbing a bruise on his temple. 

Roland began to scramble up the sheer wall, driving his claws into the mortar to get back to the roof and away from the melee.  But he need not have done so, because with three devastating blows Kazrack drove Ajax to the ground.  The blade of _Beáth-agh_ steaming as sliced easily into the fiend’s flesh. (13) Mozek’s brother was nothing more than a steaming pile of armor, blood and stinking flesh on the steps, so Kazrack took off around the corner to join the chase for Mozek.

“Bastian! To your left, Mozek is trying to get away from Ratchis!” Roland said as he pulled himself over the edge.  Bastian, who had finally given up his one-man battle against the wall of ooze, turned to look where the Bastite indicated as he was heading to the edge to look down at the melee with Ajax.

Mozek Steamwind giggled and side-stepped, taking a moment to look at each of the people on the roof in the eye and winking, save for Kazrack who arrived on the roof behind Ratchis.  He looked at Ratchis last.

“Shouldn’t you be sucking the sh*t from the black teat of you slave-goddess, the whore of Set?” Mozek asked with evil glee, and power of his _blasphemy_ washed over them. Ratchis was _dazed_ as he felt his limbs grow heavy with the smallest doubt about his goddess’ ability to triumph over evil. Roland was frozen in place, unable to will any of his muscles to act as his mind reeled, still unaware of the strength that had also been sapped of him.  Bastian was similarly _paralyzed_, _dazed_ and drained of strength.  Kazrack was also _dazed_ by the sheer audacity of the fiend, his strength ebbed nearly as low as it had after the battle with the shadows in Topaline. (14) 

Martin, luckily, was just out of range having taken to the air to avoid Tinka’s arrows.  He grimaced as he felt them bite through the reptilian hide his form gave him, and he charged at the gnome woman as she had swooped down to just a few feet off the ground.  The transformed watch-mage tried to grab hold of her and pin her sings down, but she laughed and pushed him away easily, drawing blood with her black claws.

“Fresh!” she admonished him with a playful slap.  Sighing, Martin took a moment to mentally command the boar to charge around the corner and go onto the roof after Mozek.

Gunthar came around the corner, having avoiding Mozek’s spell and flicked his short sword against Kazrack’s helmet in an attempt to break him out of his _daze_.  He was still invisible.

“Nephthys, forgive me,” Dorn whispered as he drove his sword through Ajax’s neck, delivering a _coup de grace_.  The half-fiend gnome’s corpse began to shrivel and fold in on itself giving off the odor of sulfur and burned copper.

Mozek giggled and danced away from the boar and slapping his hands and speaking an arcane word caused crackling black energy to burst out from his body in all directions enveloping those still dazed or paralyzed.

As if the additional pain has snapped him out of it, Ratchis regained his wits and swung his sword over his head, charging at Mozek, but the little fiend side-stepped and stuck out his tongue, dinging his short sword playfully against Ratchis’ blade.  Still invisible, Gunthar moved towards melee with the gnome with more caution.

Down in the valley near the front gates of the fortress came the sound of trumpets again, and then the chilling roar of a multitude, and the bellowing of mammoths.

The sound may have distracted Tinka because Martin was able to reach out and pluck her bow from her grip and fly down near Dorn out of her immediate reach.

“I’m going to enjoy watching you die, mage,” she said, the giggle leaving her voice.  It was now more a menacing squeal.  She spoke an arcane word and swooped down to touch Martin, but he moved out of the way and Dorn moved in threateningly, sending her attack off line.  He cried out in fear and anger and swung wildly at her, missing.

Roland came to his senses and realized that his _Ring of Alacrity_ allowed him to ignore the paralyzing effects of the _blasphemy_.  He hurried under the wall of ooze by means of Kazrack’s tunnel and to the edge of the tower to get a better look at the gates.

There was a flash and Mozek disappeared, reappearing above the obscured door atop the statue’s pedestal.  Ratchis threw himself around the wall of ooze and tried to climb the smooth stone of the pedestal on its left side, but made no progress.

Seeing Mozek above the door as he took to the air to avoid Tinka once again, Martin chanted and two arrows of pure flame went flying at the gnome. Mozek easily dodged both of them.  Martin moved to the roof behind Kazrack.

“I’m not done with you yet, little nose!” Tinka swore taking to the air as well, and hovering a few feet above the roof.  Dorn took off around the corner and up the stairs to join the others.

Roland took a moment to call to Bast and deal with the wounds dealt to him by Ajax, while Kazrack calling to Natan-ahb, caused the stone of the tower roof to warp and flow in one spot, stretching out to be a crude set of steps that circumvented the wall of ooze and reached up to where Mozek stood at the top of the pedestal.

“_Shadam! Fwam-Fwom!_ Mozek cried and black lightning forked from his hands cleaving through Kazrack and reaching Martin as well.  Luckily, both were able to roll with the worst of the blast.

“Tell me how to get in Hurgun’s Maze from here and I will let you live…” Mozek hissed and giggled, and then added slyly. “…A little longer.”

Ratchis flung himself around the wall again and hurried up Kazrack’s impromptu staircase.  The boar followed at Martin’s command, and Gunthar followed it.  Martin decided to go and get the weightless boat once again.  Tinka landed behind Dorn and reached out to touch him to cast some awful spell, but he dodged out of the way and counter attacked. She blocked the blow on one of her bone bracers.  However, she did not expect Roland to emerge from under the wall of ooze once again and pounce on her.  She was able to tear away, but green steaming blood streamed down her right arm.

Roaring as he realized the steps he created were now too clogged for him to reach Mozek easily, Kazrack charged at Tinka putting all his strength into the swing, which she deftly ducked.

Mozek disappeared, but only Bastian, still paralyzed and unable to speak noticed that the gnome reappeared down in the arch created by Kazrack to bypass the wall of ooze. Mozek blasted the southern area of the tower with a _dispel magic_ spell and several of the party’s spells disappeared.  Fortunately for Gunthar, he remained invisible and was able to leap back off the pedestal and move into position to flank Tinka. Suddenly the female gnome was lying in an expanding pool of her own blood.

“Yuck! Looks like that time of the month!” Gunthar quipped crudely, and Mozek Steamwind laughed heartily, seeming to enjoy the nasty joke at his dying sister’s expense.  

“I’m sorry, Nephthys,” Dorn said again, and shoved his sword into the gnome woman’s neck to finish her off.

*End of Session #89*


----------



## el-remmen

------------------------------------------
*Notes:*
(1) *DM’s Note:* This session took place on February 26th, 2005 – which means, even though we were technically beginning the final adventure of the campaign, we would not be done until nearly a year later (i.e. January 2006).

(2) Martin the Green theorized that none of the patches on the _Robe of the Wayfarer_ could be used without risking some kind of time paradox. (See Sessions #84 and #86)

(3) *DM’s Note:* Thirty-six seconds to be exact.  I told the players they had about six rounds until the wyvern got to them.

(4) Martin learned about a little about the Modrons, creatures who serve the god Ptah in maintaining the mechanisms of the cosmos, while studying in the library in Topaline.

(5) The wyvern was blinded by the _holy smite_ spell as it failed its save.

(6) *DM’s Note:* This spell is _Lahm’s Finger Darts_ from the Book of Vile Darkness.

(7) *DM’s Note:* Purplespite was a fiendish wyvern advanced to huge size.  You can read about it here: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Purplespite

(8)  *DM’s Note:* This spell is _Wall of Ooze_ from the Book of Vile Darkness.

(9) *DM’s Note:* The card for the _Incense of Meditation_ I gave Roland’s player had the description of the item as it was in 2E, meaning instead of empowering all his spells, it made them do maximum damage instead. So while the maximum possible damage was not as high as with the 3E version, the damage would be much higher on average.  So, having failed the save for the _Holy Smite_ and the _Searing Light_ the wyvern took maximum damage from both.

(10) *DM’s Note:* This became a kind of contest between me and the player of Martin’s character who was running Gunthar throughout most of the combat, trying to outdo each other with the foul profane and raunchy stuff we could have Gunthar and the flying female gnome (Tinka) say to each other.

(11) *DM’s Note:* Martin and Kazrack were _sickened_ by the _Unholy Blight_, suffering a -2 penalty on all attack rolls, weapon damage rolls, saving throws, skill checks, and ability checks.

(12) *DM’s Note:*  Ajax’s axe called for a Will save whenever it hits or the victim suffers from _lesser confusion_ for one round.

(13) *DM’s Note:* Beáth-agh is a fiend-bane weapon, doing an additional 2d6 hit points of damage to them.

(14) *DM’s Note:*  Ya gotta love the _Blasphemy_ spell!  Ratchis lost five points of strength.  Roland lost 7 points.  Poor always paralyzed Bastian lost 6 points, and Kazrack lost an even 10!  Luckily for those who were not paralyzed the reduction in strength only last 2d4 rounds – but then again this was only the 9th round of combat so 2 to 8 rounds can be an eternity.


----------



## el-remmen

[post deleted]

ENJOY.


----------



## Manzanita

I like how your battles use interesting 3D terrain.  I've tried to emulate that some w/o great success.  

This was a cool battle, in any case, against a very powerful enemy.  Good job KOTGs!

Someone remind me how Martin got the ability to change himself into a dragon-thing.


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## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Someone remind me how Martin got the ability to change himself into a dragon-thing.





That is simply the _Alter Self_ spell.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

el-remmen said:
			
		

> In the spoiler tag below I have place a map of the top of the tower with notes as to where some of the battle's events occured.
> 
> It is hidden as to not ruin it for those who might see it before reading the events of Session #89.
> 
> [sblock]
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> [/sblock]
> 
> ENJOY.




Hmm, I'm seeing the nameservers for aquerra.com as unreachable.  I'm looking forward to seeing the map.

GW


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## el-remmen

Graywolf-ELM said:
			
		

> Hmm, I'm seeing the nameservers for aquerra.com as unreachable.  I'm looking forward to seeing the map.
> 
> GW




Yeah, I am hoping the issue gets resolved soon.


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## el-remmen

The map is back and the RBC boards are up again.


----------



## Piratecat

Manzanita said:
			
		

> I like how your battles use interesting 3D terrain.



This is something I need to learn how to do, too. It's one of the things I love about how Nemm runs fights.


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## Gold Roger

That's a great, great, great combat.

Terrain really changes everything. I've learned a lot about it by simply reading this storyhour. Just ask my PC's about houses and balconies (and heightened sanctuary summoners that have skeleton bodyguards-well, only one person got his head ripped of by a giant praying mantis).


----------



## Richard Rawen

el-remmen said:
			
		

> LB?




LB=LazyBones,

LB's Shackled City is slowly drawing to a conclusion as well. 

Looking forward to more great confrontations and twists and turns =-)


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> I like how your battles use interesting 3D terrain. I've tried to emulate that some w/o great success.




Thanks.  It is something I really thing makes moving minis around a lot more fun and also environment can help drive story and lead to drama in unexpected ways.  A battle on the edge of a cliff suddenly makes bullrush more appealing. 



			
				Piratecat said:
			
		

> This is something I need to learn how to do, too. It's one of the things I love about how Nemm runs fights.




I thought there was nothing you couldn't do!  Don't shatter my dreams, man! 

This was definitely one of my favorite D&D combats that I ever ran period. This past session ended with Round 13.  The battle lasts until Round 37!  So there is a lot more to come. 

I think it had the combination of factors that make for the ideal combat encounter with meaning: Motivation + Tactical Goal + Adversity + Pathos + Butt-kicking Fun



			
				Gold Roger said:
			
		

> That's a great, great, great combat.
> 
> Terrain really changes everything. I've learned a lot about it by simply reading this storyhour. Just ask my PC's about houses and balconies (and heightened sanctuary summoners that have skeleton bodyguards-well, only one person got his head ripped of by a giant praying mantis).




I love balconies and waterfalls and ancient flooded galleries and sunken towers, and anything where the environment kind of has a character and personality that helps color the scene one way or another.


----------



## el-remmen

Also, I posted Ajax's stats here: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Ajax+Steamwind

As you can see I use the "fiendish" template for half-fiends, b/c the half-fiend template is for punks.


----------



## Gold Roger

Of course, all of this raises the question: What was a bunch of CE demongnomes doing with a Modron?


----------



## Piratecat

The watusi?


----------



## el-remmen

Gold Roger said:
			
		

> Of course, all of this raises the question: What was a bunch of CE demongnomes doing with a Modron?




Well, the answer to this question might be found if you look back at

Session #16
Session #17
Session #51


----------



## el-remmen

Piratecat said:
			
		

> The watusi?




_We can dance if you want to. We can leave modrons behind.  Because modrons don't dance and if they don't dance then they're no modron o'mine._


----------



## Tony Vargas

I remember the Modron, but don't remember why they'd want to drag it along.  Did they believe it could help them enter/navigate the Maze?

On a completely different subject:

37 rounds?  

Wow.

One thing I like about this story hour is how far removed it is from some of the conventional on-line D&D community wisdom.  Mention a 37-round, mid-level combat on the WotC boards and there'll be a greek chorus of folks telling you that you're "doing something wrong," and explaining that the 'right' way is for combats at that level to be decided in a round or three of mind-boggling damage-trading or a brief flurry of specific, unstoppable spell combos.

Makes me wonder how many people actually play the game.

And do any of them really think 2 rounds of "I cast quickened brokenspell + questionable non-core PrC ability:  4.687x10^9 damage!" is more fun that what we've just seen recounted above?


----------



## el-remmen

Tony Vargas said:
			
		

> I remember the Modron, but don't remember why they'd want to drag it along.  Did they believe it could help them enter/navigate the Maze?




By way of (incomplete) answer I give you this from Session #51:


> “I believe that creature, you know the one with the pyramidal shape and the horn-like nose and three spindly legs and arms is the key to finding the Maze,” Martin said. “I believe it came from there, and if I can examine it and try to communicate with it we may not need waste our time going to the Pit of Bones.” (1)
> 
> “It is gone,” Distelbowden said, coming back into the room.
> 
> “Gone?”
> 
> “It disappeared the night of the battle. We did not think of it that night, feeling it was best kept safe in its room, but the next morning when we went to give it some exercise and let it wander about a bit, it was gone.”
> 
> “I would bet anything that Mozek took it,” Kazrack said.
> 
> “Natan-Ahb does not approve of gambling,” Belear chastised.
> 
> “He probably used it to find the Maze,” Martin theorized.
> 
> “Or killed it to keep us from learning something from it,” Ratchis suggested.




As for this:



			
				Tony Vargas said:
			
		

> On a completely different subject:
> 
> 37 rounds?
> 
> Wow.
> 
> One thing I like about this story hour is how far removed it is from some of the conventional on-line D&D community wisdom.  Mention a 37-round, mid-level combat on the WotC boards and there'll be a greek chorus of folks telling you that you're "doing something wrong," and explaining that the 'right' way is for combats at that level to be decided in a round or three of mind-boggling damage-trading or a brief flurry of specific, unstoppable spell combos.
> 
> Makes me wonder how many people actually play the game.
> 
> And do any of them really think 2 rounds of "I cast quickened brokenspell + questionable non-core PrC ability:  4.687x10^9 damage!" is more fun that what we've just seen recounted above?




The funny thing is that is not even the longest combat in the campaign (though it nearly is) - but yeah I have even participated/started threads on the subject of average combat length (like this one and this one) and found my game's average (a little more than 13 rounds) was very high.

As for fun, well, it is certianly more fun for me and my group - but different people measure fun differently - maybe some people would be bored. . . And I would be too if it were not for the combination of factors I listed in my post above.   But I'm glad you like it.


----------



## Ciaran

This was an awesome fight.  _Stone shape_ spells everywhere, PCs climbing walls and bounding up stairs, blasty magic and invisibility and attacks from every direction and worries about being bull rushed off the tower's edge.  I got to _disarm _an opponent with my _wizard_.  I got to use a _boat _as a _shield_!  Total, concentrated awesome.

Well, maybe not for Bastian's player.


----------



## Gold Roger

Hmm, I somehow remembered it to have been identified as xorn, not modron.

Yeah, long combats are far better. My current campaign had some very long one, but thereafter we will try a higher level game (9th upward). Let's see if things will hold true then. 

One thing I've realized is that it helps to not put to many offensive abilities on the NPC's and instead concentrate on a good defense first. If an NPC has one or two good tricks that's suffice and "3 round glassjaw opponent killed one PC in the first round in a really unfun way" combats are rather uninteresting.

It makes more sense as well. If you concentrate purely on offence, you may get lucky most of the time, but in the end it's those that know to return to fight another day who life through the levels. I remember comments from people that complain a 5ft level wizard that can't kill a 3rd level group is played wrong. Well, imc you can find 15th level wizards with trouble killing anything. Thing is, they have servants, far more better things to do themself and remain extremely hard to kill even at level 16+ (Yeah, I'm a fan of Dr. evil like villains).


----------



## handforged

Great job!  I absolutely love this battle.  I have always enjoyed the interesting locales in which you set your stage, and this is definitely one of the more vivid for me.  Do you build models of any of these sets for use with miniatures or do you just draw it out?  And my, is Tinka foul.

Enjoying it as always,
~hf


----------



## el-remmen

handforged said:
			
		

> Great job!  I absolutely love this battle.  I have always enjoyed the interesting locales in which you set your stage, and this is definitely one of the more vivid for me.




Glad you like it! 



			
				handforged said:
			
		

> Do you build models of any of these sets for use with miniatures or do you just draw it out?




I wish I had the time/resources to do so, but alas I do not.  One of my favorite parts of playing Necromunda was making scenery.



			
				handforged said:
			
		

> And my, is Tinka foul.




She _was_ foul, you mean.   - I'll probably be posting her stats to the wiki sometime this weekend when I take a break from writing the next update which is also on deck for the weekend.


----------



## BlackCat

Alrighty, well, that part was one of the best D&D battles I've been in. Ever. Hands down.

You have a little to do with that, el-remmen. Nicely done.

But really, it's because Purpley-spitey-spiney-thingy failed the save versus my Roland's _Holy Smite_ and _Searing Ray_ spells. And for those that are curious, yes, I hammed that spellcasting up. I was excited about this, knowing that my spells were maximized.

So, naturally Roland's spells prepared were all either direct damage or healing.  As soon as that thing entered range, I fired. Their ranges are pretty good, too.

I pointed out evil outsiders were hurt worse by Holy Smite a few too many times. You handled it very well, el-remmen. Sorry but I may have been a tad annoying. Again...excited!  

So what happened to all the healing spells that Roland prayed for? Well, let's just say that if I were Bast, I would have been saying "Alright, already! I'll heal your stupid friends! Now stop calling on me!" _Hissss_ /claws at the air


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## el-remmen

Tony Vargas said:
			
		

> 37 rounds?
> 
> Wow.




BTW, having just completed writing up the combat I realized that I was wrong.  It was not 37 rounds.  It was an even 40, making it the longest combat in the entire campaign (if you don't count the first combat against the manticore which was 32 rounds interupted by 10 minutes of an _obscuring mist_ spell.

Expect the next update before Tuesday.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #90 (complete)*

“You have lost all of your companions,” Roland said, stepping upon Tinka’s shrinking corpse and turning his panther head to get a glimpse of where Mozek Steamwind might be.  “Your odds are looking very bad.  Why not just get out of our way like you should?”

“Hee hee hee hoo hoo!” Mozek giggled and he loped like an ape out from under the wall of ooze with evil mischief burning in his green eyes.  His long arms brushed the ground to give him support and his green and black scaled back was hunched over as he moved towards Bastian’s paralyzed form.

Martin flittered over to Bastian with the weightless boat still in hand and propped it up in front of the paralyzed warrior to  block the gnome’s access, but then Mozek disappeared.

“Where’d the f*cker go?” Gunthar cursed, jogging over and swinging around and suddenly Martin’s spell on his wore off and he was visible again.  He turned to Roland and demanded some healing.

The boar moved in confused circles atop the pedestal as Ratchis moved to the edge of Kazrack’s impromptu steps. Everyone froze waiting for Mozek to make a move, or to hear him moving about.  They hardly breathed.

“He may have teleported away,” Martin the Green offered.

Suddenly, Ratchis cried out in agony as he felt a great shock and looked down to see a stab wound appear near his groin. 

“Mozek is invisible!” the half-orc cried out and he leapt down the stairs leaving a trail of blood and weaving to avoid the unseen little fiend, but unfortunately, Mozek was ready and he thrust out thrice more catching the friar in the outer thigh and the buttocks.

“Roland, please heal me so I may return to the fight,” Ratchis staggered over to the Bastite as Kazrack moved in hopes to block pursuit by Mozek. The dwarf swung twice defensively guessing where the half-fiend gnome might be, but to no avail.  

Martin let go of the boat and readied his crossbow, while Roland healed Ratchis and Gunthar complained that he had asked first.  The Bastite’s spell nearly completely closed the nasty wounds Ratchis had been dealt, and then the half-orc turned and called to Nephthys to deliver healing to Gunthar as well.  

Dorn cried out as he felt Mozek’s blade cut him in the lower back.  He ran across the top of the tower away from Tinka’s body where he had been standing, and Kazrack cursed knowing that that meant Mozek had gotten past him.  The dwarf grabbed his pack off the ground and pulled out a small bellows and a sack of flour he had been carrying for a long time. (1)  He stuck the bellows into the sack trying to suck up a good amount of the stuff, creating a white cloud that settled on and around him.

Martin dropped his crossbow and took up the boat again, moving to the vicinity where Mozek last was and swinging it around in a wide angle in hopes of clipping him.

“Hoo Hoo Hee Hee,” Mozek mocked and giggled, his voice was coming from down on one of the lower tiers around the corner from where Ajax had fallen. “It doesn’t matter if you know where I am.  You cannot defeat me! You are out of your league!  Give up now if you value your soul!”

“Thanks, Pussy,” Gunthar said, when Roland had followed up Ratchis’ healing spell with another.  He patted the panther roughly on the head. “Now get out my way and let a real man handle this!”  The Neergaardian hustled across the tower and leapt down to the steps leading down from the tower roof, swinging wildly, but making no contact.

Ratchis moved to follow, but thinking better of it, he paused to call to his goddess for healing once again.  Kazrack however, did not hesitate and soon he had leapt down as well, abandoning his flour and bellows idea. “Where is he?” he asked Gunthar, swinging defensively in a wide arc in hopes of keeping the demon at bay, the white powder on his face and beard speckled the drying blood there.

They heard some chanting from the next lower tier and they braced themselves, but nothing happened.  

“He is down by the wyvern’s corpse!” Martin cried, pointing in that direction in case the others had not heard it.  The watch-mage remembered the boar he had pulled from his bag of tricks and commanded it to come down and go after Mozek.  However, it had to go the long way all the way around the tiers.  

Roland made a spectacular leap, pushing his panther-form muscles and agility to their limits as he flew over the first set of steps and down to the lowest tier. He landed deftly and swung his head around trying to pinpoint Mozek’s location by scent.

“Taste my boots!” Gunthar said, grabbing the edge of the tier and leaping down the nearly forty-five feet to the lower tier.  He stumbled and slammed back against the wall, grunting through the pain and struggling to get back to his feet. Less than a moment later, Kazrack was picking himself off the steps as well and looking around frantically out of instinct, as if that would make Mozek visible to his eyes.  

“Heh heh heh, you are making this even easier for me,” Kazrack heard Mozek’s voice nearly in his ear as he got up, and then felt three sharp thrusts of a short sword.  All went black for the dwarf.

Above, Ratchis finally leapt down to the first tier, but he totally slipped, slamming his lower back against the stone edge of the steps.  He could feel the bruises already developing as he scrambled to his feet and made to leap again.

Roland caught Mozek’s scent and pounced at him, but he miscalculated and totally missed. He cringed to avoid Gunthar’s wild swings, one of which bounced off the tier wall and bounced back.  Gunthar swore as his own sword clipped his face and slammed into his shoulder.  Soon, blood was pouring off his chin and down his chest and arm. (2)

Ratchis came crashing down, catching his foot on the edge of the tier and slamming face first onto the steps.  He lay there stunned for a moment.  But Martin had maneuvered the _levitated_ boat over where he thought Mozek was and he dismissed his spell.

“Ow!” Mozek cried out as the boat crashed upon him splintering in places.  “Very clever.”  The rowboat jerked up of its own accord as the _invisible_ fiend got out from under it. Noticing this,  Gunthar, who stood nearby, spun around.

“What are you, Jeremy’s evil twin?” Mozek giggled and there was a storm of blood coming off Gunthar in streams where an invisible blade cut him several times.  He stumbled back toward Roland, but the Bastite was calling to the cat goddess to close  Kazrack’s _serious wounds_, extolling in the effects of the _incense of meditation_. (3)  The dwarf coughed and sputtered as he awakened, but Gunthar’s blood cascaded down the steps at a steady pace.  He would not be getting back up on his own. (4)

Martin glided down next to Gunthar to check his wounds.

Ratchis scrambled to his feet shaking his head, while Kazrack reached into a pouch and pulled out a vial of the water he had collected from among Chochokpi’s roots.  He gulped it down and felt a bit of his strength and vigor _restored_, making his deep _exhaustion_ into mere _fatigue_.  (5) Roland followed up with another curing spell upon Gunthar, and the Neegaardian grabbed his swords and got to his feet as they all heard Mozek’s voice moving back up the stairs and around the tiers.  “Oooh!  I wonder who I can kill up here?”

Dorn was the only one above, standing guard over the still paralyzed Bastian.  The brown haired warrior loaded his crossbow and listened, ready to take a shot if he noticed the gnome.  Martin the Green, still in Tanweil-form, took off and made his way over, landing beside Bastian, as the others came the long way around after Mozek.  Kazrack left behind another vial of Chochikpi’s water for Gunthar to use.

The watch-mage had a handful of powdered corn extract (6) ready for use to reveal Mozek’s location if he heard him nearby.

“Rivkanal, I call on you to bind my wounds so that when we find this fiend I might better smite him,” Kazrack prayed in dwarven as he trailed behind Ratchis, who trailed behind Roland.  Lastly came Gunthar who cast the empty vial off the tower.

Martin passed _the Wurfel Craft_ cube to Dorn, indicating which side should be depressed if Mozek were to appear nearby.

“Use it to keep Bastian safe,” the watch-mage instructed. 

Roland made it back up onto the tower roof, followed by the boar, which snorted loudly in its attempt to zero in on the foul-smelling gnome.  Martin the Green noticed it turned and charged at some empty space near the top of the steps of the tower where it and Roland had just run past. 

The Bastite called out in his human voice though he was in cat-form.  “Oh great queen Bast! Lend me your aid in our hour of need to smite this fiend that is surely your enemy as he is ours!”

There was a crackle of divine energy, but no discernible affect to indicate that Mozek had been caught in the spell.  However, as Gunthar came around the corner to the top of the tower he jerked awkwardly as more wounds appeared on him from out of nowhere.

“Amazing that your bitch-goddess takes time from licking herself to help you,” Mozek was heard to say.  “But then again for all the good her help did, she might as well keep at it.”

Gunthar stumbled towards Roland, begging for healing again.  Ratchis appeared on the roof.  He had waited for Kazrack to catch up, suddenly afraid that the gnome was using a ruse to separate them.

Suddenly Mozek appeared as his spell’s duration had run out.  His teeth were long jagged and black, crusted with yellow.  His green eyes burned, and he held a silvery short sword with an unusually thin blade. Strangest of all, he was covered by a dim aura of cold darkness that shimmered and darkened in the sunlight, and then he spoke a word and suddenly there were six of him, leaping and shifting around.  Sometimes three or four would all be doing the same thing in sync, while two others did somersaults, sometimes all six had different expressions.  One of the _mirror images_ stuck its black forked tongue out at Ratchis.

Dorn activated the cube and its glowing blue transparent field enclosed him and Bastian.

Ratchis swung his masterwork greatsword in a great arc and it flew through one of the images of Mozek and into another.  They both popped out of existence, but the remaining five all leapt forward speaking an arcane word and touching the half-orc.  He felt magic wash over him, but he was able to resist whatever it was.  He tried swinging some more, but the many images leapt away laughing and waving their swords.  Kazrack, however, thrust his halberd among the images and felt the blade strike something solid.  Five Mozeks cried out as green blood burst from them.  The dim aura shimmering against the demon’s skin crawled along the haft of the pole-arm and Kazrack felt a deep cold in his soul as it touched him.  However, he was able to shake it off.

Mozek and his doppelgangers scattered as Martin had the boar charge into their midst.  Gunthar hurried after one or two of them taking wild swings, but he could not reach any, and Roland called to Bast for her _Divine Favor_.  The _mirror images_ gathered together and five Mozeks, all facing to the north, pulled out a scroll and scrunched up their faces as if reading with difficulty.  Suddenly, all of Mozek’s wounds were gone.  Five fiendish face turned to the Keepers of the Gate and smiled once more.

“Your tricks will not work!” Kazrack swore.

“They seem to be working pretty well so far to me,” Mozek Steamwind winked with five eyes in sync.

Roaring with anger, Ratchis, Kazrack and Gunthar came swinging into their midst, but once again they all scattered and danced back together behind them giggling.  Martin touched Ratchis and the half-orc benefited from _improved invisibility_.  Roland pounced at where he thought the real Mozek stood, but landed on nothing at all, while the boar turned in circles snorting and confused.

At Martin’s command, Dorn moved the cubic field over to block the door on the pedestal, as the wall of ooze had melted away into nothing moments before, leaving Kazrack’s impromptu stone structures looking abandoned.  He brought Bastian with him, of course.

There was a burst of greasy cloying darkness from one of Mozek’s images (ostensibly the real one) and Ratchis and Kazrack shuttered in pain as the _unholy blight_ struck them.  Gunthar was able to leap away and avoid its effects.

Clutching his chest, Kazrack retreated and called to Rivkanal to close his wounds the best he could, for he only had his weakest curing spells left.  Roland slinked over and supplemented it with one of his _empowered_ healing spells.

“Call to your weak gods all you want, help you they will not!” Mozek taunted, but his look of satisfaction became one of alarm as Ratchis smashed through two more of the remaining images, leaving three Mozeks dancing about.  His _unholy aura_ disappeared as well.  “Hmmm, now where could the piggy be?”

Courageously, Martin the Green glided over to the melee, taking Kazrack’s place temporarily.  He swung his staff at the remaining images, but missed.  Gunthar swung wildly again, but tripped over the unseen Ratchis and nearly fell, stumbling to his right to keep his feet. 

Mozek’s delight at the clumsiness was short lived as Ratchis cleaved through the last two _mirror images_, causing the half-fiend gnome to duck to avoid the blade.  He began to cast another spell, but now that Ratchis was invisible and so close he lost his concentration in an effort to keep from getting hit.  He grimaced as he felt the bite of Kazrack’s halberd against his fine chain shirt.  The dwarf was back in the melee, and all the Keepers of the Gate were pressing the attack.  Roland pounced into their midst, but missed in the confusion of so many bodies and swinging weapons.

With a word, the _unholy aura_ returned, and as Kazrack found his target again the darkness crept up the haft of his weapon and he felt his strength ebb. (7)  Luckily, Roland had withdrawn from the melee and immediately cast _lesser restoration_ to return at least some of that strength to the dwarf’s limbs, and also alleviate the last of the fatigue he felt from having been at death’s door only moments before.

Martin the Green also withdrew, taking to the air to consider the fight and figure out the best way to defeat Mozek.  Gunthar over-swung his long sword and taking a wide step, tripped over the invisible Ratchis. Losing his balance, he slipped off his feet and slammed his head against the tower roof.  He tried to get right back up, but stunned, he fell back to his hands and knees. (8)

Kazrack grunted as he felt the bite of Mozek’s thin blade again and again. The thing moved with such speed it was a silver and gold blur that hovered about the green gnome like a second aura. Again and again, the little blade knocked back Ratchis’ heavy sword and locked up the halberd blade, sending it off line.  All the while, Mozek giggled.

Ratchis withdrew unseen to cast another healing spell on Kazrack.  “Nephthys, though  I call to you in a low voice as to not alert my enemy, I implore you to aid my dwarven friend so we may defeat this evil.”  Taking up his sword again, he leapt into melee taking Mozek by surprise.  The demon gnome barely got his own sword up in time to slow Ratchis’ blow, and even then it cut deep into his shoulder.  Ratchis grunted in dissatisfaction, seeing that his blows did not see to affect the fiend nearly as much as Kazrack’s did.

Roland leapt back into the fray, but Mozek danced within the reach of Kazrack’s pole-arm and the dwarf tried to muffle his cries as he felt the bite of the fast blade thrice more.  The dwarf was barely able to withdraw and get into an effective defensive posture, but it was too late.  He felt a cold rush and looked down confused at his own blood pooling under him, and then, once again, he was on the ground dying.

“Uh oh!” Mozek mocked.  “You are losing folks awful quick.  There’s still time to give up and get away.  Just tell me how to get in.”  

Before any of the Keepers of the Gate could respond, they heard a great clash and clamor at the gates, and what could only be the death throes of one of the great mammoths the orcs brought with them.  Martin the Green stole a glance down into the distant courtyard and saw the gates had burst open, but some great shadow had come out of the ground and was knocking orcs from the walls and smashing them into the earth. 

Shaking his head and cursing, Gunthar was back into the melee, but Mozek was too quick.  He sang a nonsense song, mimicking the tone of every ring of blade on blade. “Hey piddle-diddle! The orc and a fiddle! And a ding-dang-doong-dang-frong! Thruh-ring!”

Martin swooped down as best he could with his clumsy flying, trying to distract Mozek to allow Ratchis to get a clean blow in. (9)  But it did not seem to be helping. “Urk!” Ratchis coughed as he felt Mozek’s blade slice his outer thigh a moment after the _greater invisibility_ spell wore off.  Roland came leaping back into the melee once again, but Mozek rolled out of the way.  However, this gave Ratchis a chance to drop his own sword and take up Kazrack’s halberd.  Mozek turned around just in time to have the pole-axe chop into his chest.  The blade bounced off the silvery chain shirt, but it had landed heavily and the little gnome was knocked back a bit, startled.  He grimaced through the pain, hopped back and grabbed a clay vial from his satchel, barely avoiding Gunthar and Ratchis trying to take advantage of the opportunity.  He gurgled down whatever was inside and soon many of his wounds were closed again.

Martin took the opportunity to pull Kazrack away a little bit and begin to massage the dwarf’s throat as he poured a _potion of cure moderate wounds_ into his mouth.  He was happy to see that the dwarf had stabilized on his own, and in half a moment, despite sputtering and coughing and once again feeling the exhaustion of pushing his body despite the great strain on it, Kazrack was unslinging his shield from his back.  He called to Natan-ahb for his _divine favor_ and then hefting his flail marched back into the battle.

“Looks like the stubbornness of the dwarves is no exaggeration,” Mozek quipped despite feeling the weight of the halberd on his shoulder again.  Ratchis shuddered as the _unholy aura_ shot up the weapon and sapped him of a tiny bit of strength. (10)   The gnome followed this up with a deep stab into Ratchis’ foot, (11) and when the half-orc looked down he had to flinch back as the sword flicked up at him, catching his forearm, spraying blood.

Roland continued his support position, healing Gunthar some more, even though the Neergaardian seemed unable to score any telling blow.

“Oooh! It looks like its time to move over here!” Mozek said, side-stepping to meet Kazrack as he returned.  Two thrusts of the quick blade and once again Kazrack lay dying on the floor.

”You’re bleeding! You’re bleeding! You’re bleeding! More healing you’ll be needing!” Mozek mocked, skipping back and forth to avoid Ratchis’ desperate attacks.  “Now let’s see you get back up _this_ time!”

“Come on, Ratchis! Take him out!” Martin the Green said with frustration overcoming his fear.

“Eenie-meanie-my-nee-moe!  Which of you has got to go?” Mozek gestured with his blade at each of the four of them.  He then shrugged his shoulders and thrust at Martin, who came back into the fight to watch over Kazrack.  The watch-mage collapsed, his green reptilian form oozing out red human blood.

The boar rushed back into the fight, but once again Mozek deftly avoided its charge.  However, this left him open to another blow from Ratchis.  Roland prayed to Bast and once again Kazrack sputtered awake.   The Bastite turned around to see Ratchis wince as the felt Mozek’s blade once again.  The half-orc swayed like he might fall, but roared in defiance.  Roland echoed the roar with his own panther’s voice and faked a charge at Mozek, causing the gnome to step to his right slightly and into Ratchis’ downward chopping blow. (12)  The _fiendbane_ pole-axe caught the gnome on the neck and shoulder once more and drove him down to his knees.  Blood exploded from the fiend, and he looked up pathetically as he fell backward.  “This wasn’t supposed to turn out this way…”

Ratchis lifted the halberd and brought it down again cleaving open Mozek Steamwind’s chest.  The demon-gnome’s corpse sizzled and hissed, giving off the stench of sulfur and burning copper. It began to fold in on itself and shrivel.

“That’s for Chance…” Ratchis murmured, sinking exhaustedly to the ground. (13)

Gunthar grabbed Mozek’s short sword as Ratchis grabbed what he thought might be valuable from the former gnome.  There were two rings. One was set with a large smooth sapphire and seven small diamonds (six above, one below), its band of white gold. The other was a silver ring is set with a golden emblem of a lion’s head. There was also a bone scroll tube and Ratchis tore the chain shirt off the smoldering corpse when Kazrack walked over and gasped,  “Mithril…”  And then followed it up with “Bah!  It is elven in style.”

Roland used a _cure light wounds_ spell to stabilize Martin, but the watch-mage did not wake up.  The Bastite was about to cast a second one when suddenly there was the repeating sound like air being forced through a bladder. From down on the lower wall, or perhaps the rear buildings of the inner fortress, rose three of the strangest creatures any of them had ever seen.  

They were drooping starfish with five swollen leaf-like limbs of pinkish-white flesh upon each of which was a large black eye and round mouths with thin black lips.  They had five black spindly legs that ended in hooves, which reached down from beneath the strange limbs and they rose up awkwardly forcing some kind of gas out beneath them to gain loft.  The creatures were about five and a half feet tall.

“What in Hells are those ugly things?” Gunthar swore.

“Withdraw. Withdraw.  You are not welcome here. You must flee,” the things said with three of their facing mouths.  They had flat voices that betrayed no inflection or emotion with the slightest hint of the mechanical in it.  The rate of air they expelled slowed and they began to sink to the tower roof.

“We do not wish any harm upon you,” Kazrack called to them.  “Please do us no harm in return.” He repeated his greeting in dwarven.

“Hey! How do I turn this thing off?” Dorn asked, still inside the cube with the still paralyzed Bastian.

“Martin, you can get up,” Roland breathed into the watch-mage’s ear.  “We have a problem.  Ptah’s servants seem to be here.”

“We mean no harm!” Martin coughed in gnomish, turning to take in the strange creatures.  Two of the three creatures landed beside the still glowing cubic field, while the third landed in the corner overlooking the first tier of steps. The bulbous sacks at the center of their five limbs and between their five legs popped out at the top of their bodies at the center.  They could see bone-like protrusion with a puckered sphincter on the end. It lowered and turned with the mechanical dexterity of an arbalest on turret. Martin turned to his companions.  “I really don’t know much about these things except their names and some of their basic qualities.  I hope they don’t attack us.”

The two creatures by the cube of force began to spin, slamming their limbs against the left side of the cube, and Dorn willed it to move away.  The bizarre guardians moved to block the now uncovered door.

The watch-mage told Dorn to press the depiction of the still pond upon _the Wurfel Kraft_ when he was ready to turn it off.

“We need to get into Hurgun’s Maze,” Kazrack said to the creatures in dwarven again.  “Can you show us the way?”

“No invitation. No entrance,” the three creatures said in unison in their flat voices. The Keepers of the Gate were all taken aback as the eastern wall of the statue’s pedestal became a fifteen foot long set of stone steps that led to the top.  The great statue atop the stone pedestal swung out over the tower and two more of the things Martin called ‘pentadrones’ came flying out from beneath.  They emitted the nasty sound of rapidly flapping flesh as they expelled gas beneath them to grant them lift.  The statue swung back into place, but the stairs remained. “No invitation. No entrance. Leave now.”

“Invitation?” Roland said. “I assure you I am not one to crash parties. Who is in a position to issue invitations? Mine was probably lost in the mail.”

The cube scooted along slowly as two of the pentadrones knocked against it futilely. Gunthar stepped toward the door with his sword drawn.  “Don’t we have to go in there?”

“Gunthar, we don’t want to fight them,” Martin said.  “Stay back.”  He called the boar back into his _bag of tricks_.  He laid the pouch on the ground and the bristly swine walked up to it and then rolled up back into a tiny ball of fur and rolled back in, disappearing.

“Get out. Get out. You must get out,” they said, each taking a turn with a word but all saying the last one together. They turned their bodies after each third syllable, flaring their strange limbs out a bit when they did.  They did not blink.

Ratchis grabbed the quiver of arrows that Tinka had dropped when she died as three of the five pentadrones now moved in to corral them and drive the party towards the steps, separating them from the cubic field.

“Perhaps we should make our way down the stairs and into the tower,” Kazrack suggested. “We may be able to bide some time and devise a plan while not being out in the open and seen. If we are attacked, we can use the cube to make our way down.”

The Keepers of the Gate marched down the steps.  Ratchis took the lead, still hobbling from the wound dealt his foot. Kazrack and Gunthar took the rear keeping an eye on the three pursuing modrons, with Martin the Green right near them to advise if necessary.

The other two pentadrones drove Dorn towards the edge of the tower overlooking the stairs.

Ratchis stopped when he came to the shriveled remains of Ajax’s body.  He took up the battle-axe with its blade of red-tainted steel and its black metal haft…

_”You can just kill them all with me.  It would be easy… You can carve a kingdom of blood…”_

Ratchis dropped the axe and shook his head.  He stepped past it and called to the others to not touch it.

Dorn looked down and saw his companions below him.  Pressing the side of the stone cube he held that depicted the pond, the field disappeared with a hum and a pop.

“I need to drop Bastian down to you,” he called to Ratchis.   The half-orc offered to climb up to help. 

“Naw, these things might think you are trying to get in with an invitation and attack or something,” Dorn said. “Just catch him, and then I’ll climb down.”

”Hey! What’s this battle-axe?” Gunthar said as he came to it. He scooped it up.  “Ain’t ya gonna take this Snuffles?  It seems your style…” Gunthar’s face paled and he brought a second hand to the haft of the axe.

“Gods damn it, Gunthar! Drop that axe it’s evil!” Kazrack swore, grabbing at it.  Gunthar pulled it away.

“It is whispering to me,” Gunthar said with a faraway look in his eyes.

“Drop it now!” Kazrack commanded as the pentadrones came awkwardly down the stairs after them.

Gunthar shook his head vigorously, but did not drop the axe.  “It can’t tell me what to do,” he said.

“Just drop it!” Kazrack lashed out with his halberd and suddenly the axe was askew upon the steps again. Gunthar rubbed his hands and cursed.  He reached down for it again, but Kazrack placed his halberd blade over it.

”If Kazrack says it is evil, it is evil,” Martin said.

“I was just going to throw it over the side,” Gunthar said.

Kazrack snorted his dubiousness and then shoved the axe into the chasm far below through one of the arrow slits in the low wall with his pole-arm.

By this time, Ratchis had caught Bastian still stiff form in his thick arms, and Dorn climbed down.  The two pentadrones up top came to the edge and angled their strange black eyes to look down at them.

Round and round they marched with the pentadrones at their heels, still repeating, “No invitation.  No entrance. You must flee.  You must flee.”  They had to squeeze past the steaming wyvern carcass, while the modrons took to the air again with loud blasts of gas. 

Ratchis stopped at the unmoving pyramidal body of the modron Mozek had brought with him. (14) He was sure it was the same creature the party had met back in Garvan so many months before. The half-orc tried someway to check for a pulse, but there was none (though he was not sure if it ever had one).  Its three eyes were glazed over.  He noticed a black manacle and chain locked tightly around one of its three legs and he shook his head angrily.  He went over and waited by the door.  

Roland stopped at the dead modron and gave a silent prayer to Bast, sorry that his powerful spells had inadvertently led to this innocent being’s death. He then turned to the pentadrones and said, “This one had our invitation but the evil gnomes killed him.”

“Tridrone must be re-assimilated,” the lead pentadrone said, and the other two echoed it.  The two left atop the tower, flopped an eye and mouth-bearing limb over the side and they said it as well.  “Tridrone must be re-assimilated.”

“We opened the Key Room, does that win us an invitation,” Roland tried, suddenly changing his tact.  The pentadrones pressed in and one kicked the tridrone body back away from the party.

Impatient, Gunthar pushed open the heavy steel door that led into the tower at this level.  

“There may be a ward on that door!” Martin warned. “Or just inside of it.”  He reached into his _bag of tricks_ and threw a ball of fur towards the doorway and it grew into a black bear that roared and charged into the room beyond.  Ratchis followed the bear into a great chamber that spanned nearly the enter width and breadth of the tower.  It was an armory with countless spears, arrows, bolts, crossbows, long swords, maces and the like on racks along the walls and creating aisles in the room.  There were also wooden shields on one partial wall of the room that cordoned off an area behind another metal door.  This area seemed to be directly beneath the stone pedestal and statue above.

A narrow stone stairway led down from the door to the tower roof down into the armory, and the bear bounded down them followed by the Keepers of the Gate.

“You must flee! You must flee!” the pentadrones continued to say, seeking to enter the tower as well, but Kazrack pulled the door shut and dropped the bar on the inside.  

“I need something to wedge this closed so they do not come in!” Kazrack said, holding the door closed.

“Nooo!” Roland moaned and buried his snout beneath a paw.

“What is it?” asked Martin.

“I just wish we could get back to those monks we saw crushed on the cliffside,” (15) Roland explained with a sigh. “I just realized, I bet they had found an invitation, but not the way in.  They may have one.”

*End of Session #90*


----------



## el-remmen

-------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1) These had been bought in the general store of Ogre’s Bluff soon after the part first met Richard the Red.

(2) *DM’s Note:* Gunthar fumbled and rolled the result “Reflex save (DC 15) or hit self, critical hit” – the critical hit did “double die damage” (which means the damage die is rolled twice and any bonuses are added _once_ to that total.  He took 22 points of damage.

(3) *DM’s Note:* Much as with damage spells, cure spells too were automatically doing their maximum.  

(4) *DM’s Note:*  Gunthar took 55 points of damage total from those attacks, and thus was very close to death.

(5) See session #84

(6) *DM’s Note:* _Powdered corn extract_ is the material component for _Rope Trick_, but since Martin did not know that spell, I am not sure why he had the component.

(7) *DM’s Note:*  Kazrack lost 6 points of strength.

(8) *DM’s Note:*  Gunthar fumbled getting the following result: Trip. Make Reflex check vs. DC 20 or fall and be stunned for 1d3 rounds.

(9) *DM’s Note:*  Martin’s player was using the _aid other_ action, which is actually something players used quite a lot of in this campaign.

(10) *DM’s Note:*  Ratchis lost 1 point of strength.

(11) *DM’s Note:*  Ratchis suffered a critical hit: _Foot Wound, Speed Reduced to ½. Save vs. Knockdown._

(12) *DM’s Note:*  Once again the _aid other_ action.
(13) Mozek killed Chance and ate his brain way back in Session #17

(14) See Session #89

(15) Again, see Session #89


----------



## Manzanita

With Mozek dead, we're really getting somewhere.  He was tough.  Good thing the party has three clerics.  They sure did need a lot of healing.


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Good thing the party has three clerics.  They sure did need a lot of healing.




Well, that's kind of a chicken and the egg kinda thing, ain't it?


----------



## el-remmen

My new estimate for the completion of this story hour based on my current rate of updates is December 2006.


----------



## handforged

I don't have much time, but that was amazing.  I was on the edge of my seat.

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

handforged said:
			
		

> I don't have much time, but that was amazing.  I was on the edge of my seat.
> 
> ~hf




Glad you liked it - it was pretty dicey.  It was one of those things where I was rooting for the players, but totally willing to have all the PCs die atop that tower.


----------



## Piratecat

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Glad you liked it - it was pretty dicey.  It was one of those things where I was rooting for the players, but totally willing to have all the PCs die atop that tower.



I think that's the perfect DM attitude. It means that the players know you aren't going to screw them out of spite, but that it's all up to them. That makes for some amazing sessions.


----------



## Richard Rawen

It also makes for very fun reading!  I'll just add my voice to the chorus here, that battle ranging up and down and around was really great mental exercise, I had a blast imagining it!


----------



## Ratchis

*Best.Fight.Evar.*

Or least 3rd best.  This was a crazy, amazing, and fun (and frustrating, that Gnome's AC was in the 30s for most of the fight!).

Let me put it this way: There were *YEARS* of expectations built up for this battle and it surpassed it easily.

And yes, maybe only 3rd best depending on my mood because there are two more "climatic" battles that were also great great great!


----------



## el-remmen

Ratchis said:
			
		

> And yes, maybe only 3rd best depending on my mood because there are two more "_climatic_" battles that were also great great great!




_Emphasis_ mine. 

I don't remember you guys battling the weather. 

But seriously, I am so glad it worked out and was a helluva lot of fun, because of those expectations (both mine and the players).


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #91* (part 1 of 2) (1)

“This door will not hold for long,” Kazrack said, pressing his back against it and feeling it shaking from the repeated roll of blows from the strange modrons outside.

“Hello?” Roland called through the door.  “You are being addressed by Roland Eremicia of Bast and the Keepers of the Gate, Ratchis, Kazrack, Martin the Green of the Academy of Wizardry, Dorn and Gunthar… oh, and uh… Bastian, too…”  He turned and looked around.  “Is that everybody?” he whispered.  He turned his panther-head back to the door.  “Perhaps you can tell your master those names and that we have come to…” He turned to the others once again, “What have we come for again?”

Ratchis sighed. 

“I do not think those creatures will listen to reason,” Martin said.  “Or rather, their reason is so limited by the role they are created for they cannot conceive of things beyond that boundary.”

_Tha-tha-tha-tha-thoom! Tha-tha-tha-tha-thoom!_ The door shook again and again.  They grabbed some spears from the racks on the walls and Ratchis and Kazrack wedged them to hold the door the best they could.  They also smashed up some of the weapon racks and Kazrack hammered the boards over the door with iron spikes.

Roland transformed back into his normal human guise, stretching out the aches of wounds closed in the process. He wandered over to a deep narrow window that looked down on the lower fortress and courtyard below.   There were some kind of siege towers leaning against the outer wall by the gate, and he could see the pulped corpse of a mammoth near the center of the courtyard.   There were small groups of orcs fanning out on the wall and they seemed to have had taken the gatehouse.  Suddenly, he saw three of the pentadrones slowing making their way down to the orcs as swarms of arrows flew up at them in great arcs from the wall and beyond.  He called out what he saw to the others.

_Tha-tha-tha-tha-thoom! Tha-tha-tha-tha-thoom!_

“That means there are only two out there,” Kazrack said.  “Perhaps we should go take care of them now before the others return and figure out how to get past the door up there.”

“Are we sure that the door is the way we want to go?” asked Roland.  

“Yes, I was thinking that,” Martin said. “The beam of light struck the statue and those creatures came from beneath the statue. I think _that_ is the way we have to go.”

“I want to scout around this tower some more before we decide which way to go,” Ratchis said.  He had just finished casting two _cure light wounds_ in quick succession on Kazrack, and now came down the stairs to join the others.  Kazrack remained by the door to watch it. 

Roland looked back out the window and noted several hundred more orcs converging on the fortress.

“Oh boy!  There are a lot of them big piggies down there,” the Bastite said.

“I want a chance to try to talk to those modron- things,” Bastian said.  Everyone was startled.  The bearded warrior had been paralyzed so long (2) that they had propped him up in a corner at the bottom of the stairs.

“Bastian! Are you alright?” Roland asked.

“I am now,” He stretched and yawned as if he had been sleeping.  He called mentally to his familiar, and the hawk alighted in the window Roland had been looking out of moments before.

“Bastian, do you know about these things?” Roland asked.

“No, afraid not,” Bastian replied. “But…”

“Did you see everything?” Ratchis interrupted with his question.

“Huh?”

“While you were paralyzed, could you see what happened?” Ratchis asked.

“Some of it,” Bastian frowned.  “When I was pointed in the right direction.”

Ratchis nodded and Gunthar chuckled.

“As I was saying,” Bastian cleared his throat, but his voice was no louder afterwards.  “I want to tell them of the patron creature I can summon.  They might know his name and we could work something out.”

“Oh, plan to name-drop, huh?” Roland winked.

“Uh…”

“If you think it will work, I give you free reign to try to tell them whatever you please,” Ratchis said to Bastian.

“Oh, how righteous of you to give him freedom, _Nephthys_-follower,” Gunthar smirked.

Ratchis growled in response.

Martin the Green decided to change some of his prepared spells, (3) while Ratchis scouted around downstairs, and everyone did their best to catch their wind and prepare for whatever might happen next. (4)  

Ratchis checked the stone door for magic and found none, so he opened it slowly.  Beyond was a narrow circular stairway around a broad cylindrical center.  It coiled in both directions, up to the right and down to the left, out of sight.  The half-orc crept up a bit first and found exactly what he thought.  This led to the door at the base of the pedestal at the top of the tower.  Martin and Roland had been right, the party needed to go down the passage beneath the statue above.  The cylindrical section these stairs coiled around must have been a second narrow spiral staircase that went down into some other part of the tower, or perhaps even into the lower fortress itself.

He crept down past the door in the other direction. These narrow stairs led down to another room similar to the one he had left his companions in, so he went down another level, where the stairs ended in a broad L-shaped hall.  There were other stone doors leading off this hall.  

Each door connected to long barrack rooms, but the bunks were stripped bare, and there wasn’t so much as dust upon the open and empty footlockers at the foot of each one.  Some other doors led to smaller rooms that held desks and wardrobes, all empty.  

Ratchis realized that all of these rooms, corridors and staircase seemed to all be made of the same stone. There were no bricks and no seams and no chisel marks from carving.  It was as if the place had been molded into its shape.

There was another open stair at the end of the perpendicular hall, and Ratchis had barely crept halfway down it when realized he was reached the bottom floor.  The ground floor had a marble fountain and small benches and plots with small trees and flowering plants.  There where double doors out to the upper courtyard, and beside it the wall was made of what could only be described as transparent stone. (5)

Ratchis could hear the cries and curses of the orcs out at the gate across the lower courtyard.

There was a sudden flash from out in the upper courtyard and Ratchis was forced to cover his eyes.  It was followed by a horrible scream of agony that was cut frighteningly short. The flash made Ratchis note a stone statue standing atop a niche that looked it was reach by two shallow steps.  It was over nine feet tall and was carved to look like a broad bald man in a skull cap, bare-chested and with a sash about his waist.

Ratchis stopped short at the bottom of the steps.  He thought he saw the statue move and did not think about it twice.  He rushed back up the stairs as quickly as he could as his foot wound still ached.  Hustling around the narrow stairs, he burst into the room.  

“I think I woke a stone statue!” he warned his companions.  “I hear breaking stone down there, I think it is slowly climbing up here.”

“Oh no,” Martin the Green said.

“Will it fit in that narrow stairway?” Bastian asked.

“If it is a stone golem it will break through eventually if it really wants to get up here,” Martin said.  “This is a creature like the dog we encountered in the dwarven temple beneath the Pit of Bones.” (6)

“A dwarven creature?” Kazrack asked coming down the stairs.

“No,” Martin replied.  “We need to get out of here.”

Ratchis nodded.

“Okay,” Kazrack agreed. “But we need to move as a unit and push our way past those creatures and to the statue.”

“It is good to stay together so I can activate the cube around us if needed,” Martin said. They came up with a plan using the cube and some longspears they collected from this armory. Martin the Green began to show Ratchis how to use the cube when the stone door into the tower at the stop of the stair burst open, sending shards of spears, boards and iron spikes in all directions.

Ratchis moved to the bottom of the stairs and Gunthar joined him on his left.  

“No invitation. No entrance.  You must leave. Entrance is barred,” a pentadrone said as it came down the step blasting gas and flaring its leaf-shaped limbs to steady itself.

Gunthar thrust his sword at it, but it turned the blow away pinning it for a second between two of its limbs.  Kazrack stepped over as another pentadrone floated off the steps to land beside him. The dwarf ducked to avoid one of its limbs slapping out at him.  Roland and Bastian moved in close, as did Dorn and Martin and Ratchis activated the cube so that it held out living matter.

The Keepers of the Gate began the slow awkward climb within the cube as it scooted along, feeling the strange sensation of their boot soles going through the cube and stopping when it touched their feet within.

“Please let us pass,” Bastian said to the modrons, hefting a long spear he had taken from one of the racks. “There is one who expects our arrival.”

“No invitation. No entrance,” the pentadrones said.  There was now one in from of the cube and one behind it, twirling with great speed to slam all five of their limbs into the cube’s field over and over again.

“His name is Torzig,” (7) Bastian said.  “Do you have a way of talking to him before you make your judgment?”

The pentadrones both paused.

Ratchis readied to attack with his spear as the cube’s progress was very slow because of the blocking modron, but Bastian laid a hand on the half-orc’s arm.

“It looks like they might respond,” Bastian said.

“How can you even tell?” Roland asked, twisting his lips in disapproval.

“We are running out of time,” Ratchis said.  “We need to get inside the Maze.”

“Servant of Torzig, you will not fool our master this time,” the two pentadrones said in their cold flat voices, taking turns at words and turning their bodies to speak with one, two or three mouths at once.

The others looked at Bastian who shrugged his shoulders.
“What can I do to redeem myself?” Bastian was asking when the other door into the armor began to crack from the blows of something on the other side.

“The golem!” Martin cried.

The Keepers of the Gate arranged themselves in the cube.  Kazrack was in front with Gunthar, while Ratchis stepped in behind the dwarf ready to attack over his head with a long spear if necessary.

“This is your last chance,” the pentadrones said, as the party got the cube to the top of the stairs and at the lip of the door back outside.  Martin looked back and saw a huge stony hand trying to tear open the lower doorway into the armory to widen it.

_Tha-tha-tha-tha-thoom! Tha-tha-tha-tha-thoom!_ The pentadrones slammed against the cube.  Gunthar thrust with the spear he had picked up, but these creatures were very resilient.  The sharpened points of the weapon slid off of them to little or no effect, and even Ratchis’ great troll-belt augmented strength did little to make the wounds more deadly.

“These things are tougher than the scarred clit of a Zootsburg whore!” Gunthar swore.  Kazrack thrust his halberd and scored a deep hit, catching the edge of the modron’s mouth and yanking it hard to the right.  The creature’s blood was pus-like yellow grease.

The Keepers of the Gate stumbled over themselves repositioning to turn the cube round and get up the stairs.  The pentadrone in front of them withdrew.  They did this again and again, and soon they were just one level below the top of the tower.

“Invaders,” it said. “This is your last chance to retreat.”

With a ‘pop’ the boney gas-expelling tube appeared at the top of its body.  The party moved forward and it expelled a noxious cloud of the gas that passed through the cube with no trouble. (8)  Everyone fell into a fit of coughing and when the gas dissipated Gunthar and Dorn were paralyzed.

Bastian grabbed Dorn by the collar and began to drag him along.  Martin did his best to bring Gunthar along as the cube slid forward again.  Again, Ratchis and Kazrack attacked, and this time the dwarf’s halberd pierced the gas-filled sack atop the thing’s head. There was a loud ‘pop’ and a hiss and the thing drooped down and dribbled its yellow blood from all its orifices.

Ratchis pressed the pond-etched side of the cube, deactivating it.

“Make a run for it!” the half-orc said, and everyone began hustling up the stairs, Roland pausing just long enough to assume panther-form again.  However, soon his muscled feline legs pulled him past everyone else.  Na’kron took off from Bastian’s shoulder.

Martin the Green was slowed by the weight of Gunthar’s inert form, and Kazrack, not a fast runner anyway, took Dorn off Bastian’s hands. Free of his burden, Bastian was able to nearly catch up with Roland. Ratchis seeing that no one was helping Martin with Gunthar, hobbled back, (9) cursing under his breath and threw the Neergaardian over his shoulder.

Roland with his great speed was the first to reach not only the top of the tower, but he hustled up the stairs that had appeared when the second wave of pentadrones had arrived (10) and was beside the statue.

The pentadrone following on the stairs caught up to Ratchis and slammed the half-orc as he spun around to try to defend himself.  He fought to keep his breath as he felt his ribs contract, and lowered Gunthar’s paralyzed form to the ground and drew his sword.

“Secondary defenses!” the pentadrone said, its cold voice actually increasing in pitch and volume, as Ratchis cut into one of its black legs, tipping it over despite its five-legged stability. (11)  “Secondary and tertiary defenses!”

“Hurry! Find the way down!  There may be more coming!” Ratchis called to his companions.

As if in response, another pentadrone landed on the tower trying to cut off Kazrack as he made it to the corner of the stairs.  Bastian and Martin had hurried past the dwarf and were already at the top of the tower.  “Invaders. Invaders,” it said.

Kazrack dropped Dorn and cut the creature deeply, making one of its limbs a ragged sopping thing that whipped its pus-like blood in all directions.  

“I can’t see how it would open,” Roland said to Bastian, leaping off of the statue pedestal.  The bearded warrior hurried up and looked himself, and immediately noticed a round metal seam beneath the statue.  He called down what he saw to Martin the Green, but was forced to draw his hammer and ready his shield as still yet another pentadrone landed on the steps behind him.  Bastian spun around, catching a whipping limb against his shield.

“Invaders. Invaders,” it said.

“We are not trying to invade,” Bastian said to it. “We are just trying to make our scheduled appointment.  We do not want further hostilities.”

_Tha-tha-tha-tha-thoom!_ Bastian stumbled back as he felt the five heavy blows against his head, chest and legs.  He tried in vain to move his shield into position to blocks the blows, but the pentadrone limbs flew up and down as it spun.   He stumbled, nearly falling, and for a moment the world seemed to spin as well.  He was gravely wounded, and tried a weak counterattack that the modron easily avoided.  Martin the Green waited at the base of the stairs, unsure of what to do.  He noticed a whirlwind forming in the air above the statue. Finally, sighing, he began to load his crossbow.

Kazrack cut the limb from the pentadrone he fought, and it collapsed, gurgling.  The dwarf hurried back to support Ratchis, whose blows despite his great strength were not doing nearly as much damage as the magical halberd.  Gunthar and Dorn began to stir.

“Ugh, that smelled worse than a she-troll’s gash!” Gunthar swore.  He drew his swords and made for the top of the tower.  Dorn stood where he was, waiting for Kazrack and Ratchis, and then moved cautiously towards the melee when he saw Ratchis stumble back from two blows on the chin and collapse, unconscious.


----------



## el-remmen

---------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	*DM’s Note:* This session was played on April 3rd, 2005.

(2)	*DM’s Note:* Poor Bastian was paralyzed early in the combat in session #89, for all of Session #90 and did not recover until the beginning of this session.

(3)	*DM’s Note:* In Aquerra, wizards may change spells they have already prepared but have not cast yet, but this takes fifteen minutes per spell level in order to do.  They still have the normal total of spell cast per day.

(4)	Remember, Martin and Kazrack were still _exhausted_ from having dropped to negative hit points, and Gunthar was _fatigued_.

(5)	*DM’s Note:*  This was a permanent _Glassee_ spell.

(6)	See Session #61

(7)	Torzig is the dao (an earth jinn) that Bastian summons to learn spells and gain information from.

(8)	*DM’s Note:* Ratchis took a critical hit to the foot in the previous session as was still moving at half speed.

(9)	The cube was set to only keep out/in _living_ matter.

(10)	See Last Session (#90)

(11)	*DM’s Note:*  Creatures gains a +2 _stability bonus_ to their save vs. knockdown per extra leg beyond two.


----------



## Manzanita

Those Modrons are pretty weird.  I hope the KOG are going the right direction.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #91 (part 2 of 2)*

“Ratchis is down!” Dorn called to those above.

“Here, take this!” Bastian said.  He withdrew from the pentadrone and hung the strap at the end of his hammer on a hook on the back of his shield.  Gunthar had leapt into the melee by then and was able to draw the thing off.  Reaching into the _robe of the wayfarer_, Bastian tore off one of its patches and placed it on the ground. It lay there for a minute and then ‘pop’ transformed into a white crystal vial. He rolled it towards the top of the steps with his foot. Dorn ran up the steps and grabbed the vial, and then hustled back to where Kazrack struggled with the other pentadrone.  The dwarf drove his halberd into the center of its strange body and it made a strange noise and then fell over.  Kazrack hurried up to the top of the tower, leaving the bleeding Ratchis to Dorn.

Martin the Green followed Dorn down the steps, leaving the pentadrone to Bastian, Gunthar and Roland, and he grabbed up _the Wurfel Kraft_ from Ratchis.  He came back up on the tower in time to see the last pentadrone was dead as well, but Gunthar was stumbling down on his face, as the whirlwind came down among them. 

“I think I can hold it off with the cube!” Martin announced.

“You will have to come to me,” Kazrack said, moving to the left and right to avoid the elemental’s buffeting blows.  “If I withdraw now I will go down.” 

Kazrack thrust and swung, feeling his magical halberd cut at the binding magic that held the elemental in this plane, but he over extended himself and left and opening.  He felt the slam of the elemental’s airy fist and he spun around, dropping unconscious upon the steps. (1)

Bastian dropped to one knee and looked up to the air elemental  “Please stop this! We don’t want to fight anymore!”

“Are you a fool?” Roland asked, growling as he finally leapt into melee.  “That is not going to work!  It thinks we are invaders.  Get up and fight!”  His bite and claws had little effect and he leapt on the other side of the whirlwind, trying to get its attention away from Kazrack.   Martin moved up and pressed the side of the cube that pictured grapes. The blue cubic field hummed into being around him and Kazrack.

“We do not wish to continue this,” Bastian continued to address the air elemental, this time in dwarven.  “We only seek to meet one who resides on the plane of earth.” Gunthar was back on his feet and leapt back into the melee only to be slammed and knocked down again.  Roland yelped as he was slammed as well and nearly knocked off the steps. 

“It is not working,” Roland insisted, getting a little hysterical, “We are in aggressive negotiations.  Help us fight or we’re all going to die!”

Down on the stairs, Ratchis was getting to his feet with Dorn’s help.  “If you survive please pray to Nephthys to forgive my soul for this selfishness.”  The half-orc took out a potion of his own and slurped down its contents; more of his wounds closed.

“Heh.  If any of us survive this,” Dorn replied.  He took off up the stairs and came up behind Bastian, loading his crossbow.

Gunthar leapt back to his feet and the air elemental sent its fist-like winds down on him, but he scurried into the cube and the blast of wind slammed against it to no effect.  Roland yelped again, as he was not as lucky.  It noted Ratchis limping through its reach to get to the others, but it reacted too slowly, and again it slammed into the blue field before it could get its prey.  Kazrack’s blood dripped off the steps, unobstructed by the blue field about him.

Bastian leapt into the field as well, followed by Roland.  The bearded warrior turned to Roland.  “When I was at its mercy it did not attack because I did not threaten it.  If we do not attack, it may show us all mercy.”

“It is too late for that,” Roland replied. “It might work as a strategy for saving yourself at the cost of the rest of us.  Good work!”

The air elemental moaned like a wind through a haunted canyon and turned towards Dorn, battering the cohort and knocking him down.  Ratchis and Gunthar leapt from the cube and chopped at the thing.  Gunthar felt a stiff resistance as he stabbed with the short sword he took from Mozek, and the elemental dissipated.

“Haw! Haw! It was nothing more than an overblown fart,” Gunthar laughed, and it echoed in a sudden silence that was broken by the sound of something smashing in the armory below.   But this was quickly drowned out by the swell of orcish roars of joy from the fortress courtyard.

“Ratchis! Kazrack is dying!” Martin called.  The half-orc went back and whispered to Nephthys, stabilizing the dwarf’s condition with an orison.

Bastian climbed up the steps and began to examine the seam beneath the statue once again, while continuing to bicker with Roland.

“Shut up!” Ratchis roared, letting his anger bubble over.  He climbed the steps and looked at the seam himself.  “Out of the way,” he said, as he climbed upon the pedestal and began to push on the statue in the direction they had seen it swing out.  It did not budge.  Ratchis motioned Bastian to help, but it was too much for the two of them.  Gunthar joined and then Dorn and then Martin, and finally on the last push they felt it budge and heard the protest of the gears that held it locked in place.  They looked at Roland, who sighing, transformed back into human form and helped them push.  

It still took three more tries, each of them looking at Kazrack’s unconscious form with longing between each try, but finally it gave way and began to click open of its own accord, revealing a steep metal circular stairway beneath.

With an arcane word, Martin the Green was able to _detect magic_ and he saw that the third step down held a protective sigil.

“It will explode into flame if stepped on,” Martin said, after he had examined it for a time while the others nervously kept an eye out for more invaders.  He looked beyond and saw another glyph two steps down. “And there is one that turns you into stone.”

“We have no way to dispel them,” Ratchis said.  “We are going to have to climb down and skip steps.”

”That seems dangerous,” Martin said.  “Especially if Kazrack has to be carried down… Remember Derek.” (2)

Ratchis snarled.

“Are there anymore?” Bastian asked.

“Yes,” Martin said, carefully hopping down between the two warded steps. There was another glyph two steps beyond the second.  “This one makes you choke on your… <gulp>… on your own bile.”

Martin the Green shuddered, and then reaching into his _bag of tricks_ pulled out one of the fuzzy balls that grew into a black bear.

“What are you doing?” Ratchis asked.

“Sending it down to set them off,” Martin replied, and everyone took a step back.

Ratchis opened his mouth like he was going to protest, but then just bowed his head.  “Nephthys, forgive us what we must do.”

“Can you make it skip steps?” asked Bastian.

“Yes… well, I can try anyway,” Martin replied.  “I am just worried that if it gets turned to stone I may never be able to use the bag again.”

The bear roared as Martin directed it, and it hopped down the stairs.  Fortunately, the Keepers of the Gate drew back even more, for a moment later there was a fiery explosion and the sickening smell of burning hair and flesh accompanied by the death moan of the animal.  The thing slid down the steps and then got stuck on a corner for a second before the corpse disappeared.

“Oh no,” Martin said as he went back over to the steps to look down.  “The sigil is still there!  I think they just become temporarily defunct when set off, not sure how long until it activates again.  I guess I should draw more animals from the bag to set off the others.”

“Just a moment,” Bastian said.  He began to chant in his dialect of dwarven. “_Bring forth vermin from the bowels of the earth to in our passage!_”

A steaming red and black rat appeared at his feet and scurried down the steps.  There was a pop and a bang as it turned into stone and bounced the rest of the way down the metal steps.

Roland’s lip curled in disgust.  “I would rather you didn’t summon infernal creatures in my presence.  I find it distasteful.”

“Would you rather see a good bear go up in flame or an evil rat?” Bastian asked in his quiet way.  “Which would your rather see suffer and die?”

“Enough arguing,” Ratchis barked.  “It is bad enough we have to do this.  Let’s just get it over with.” 

Martin reached into the bag and this time a tawny gray wolf appeared.  Bastian summoned another fiendish rat.

“There wouldn’t happen to be any cats in that bag, would there?” Roland asked Martin, ignoring Ratchis.

”Sometimes,” Martin replied weakly.

“What kind?” the Bastite asked.

“Bob cat,” Martin said.

“You’re lucky you didn’t use that one,” Roland said. “I won’t tolerate the abuse of a cat.”

Martin nodded.

There was another resounding cheer from below and the Keepers of the Gate looked down to see scores of orcs charging towards the upper courtyard unchecked.

“The orcs are coming,” Ratchis said, taking Kazrack up into his arms.

“Looks like orcs are here!” Gunthar said and he ran down the steps and towards the edge of the tower roof that looked over the lowest tier of steps.  It seems the crashing in the armory below, was orcs fighting and running past the stone golem Ratchis had awakened.  Two of the orcs had gotten through.

Bastian sent his rat down the steps and in a half moment it convulsed in agony, choking on its own bile, and then disappeared.  Martin sent the wolf down next, but there were no more glyphs on the top steps. Ratchis began to follow the wolf, but stopped and turned to his right.  “Gunthar! Get back here!” Ratchis ordered.

But the Neergaardian had an orcish short bow out and an arrow ready.  The orcs made it around the corner.

“_Targsh’gish, humans are up here!  We must go back and tell the others,_” one orc said to the other in their tongue, as they suddenly changed direction.

Gunthar fired his arrow at nearly point blank range down on one of the orcs, killing it instantly.  The other turned the corner widely and came into view for Roland and Martin who fired crossbow bolts down in that direction.  The orc hustled closed to the wall to get out of view again.  Bastian hurried down steps getting a bow ready as well.

“Leave it, let’s go!” Ratchis said.

“It saw the where the entrance is,” Gunthar said.  “We should kill the last one before it gets back to its kind.”

Roland nodded and his form melted into that of a black panther once again.  He leapt off the steps and made a quick sliding turn to cut off the orc before it made it back to the door.  However, Gunthar fired again and that orc dropped as well. They all made it back to the steps and Bastian called to his familiar. The hawk landed upon his shoulder once again.  The Keepers of the Gate began to make their way down.  The wolf led the way, and Ratchis followed, but allowed it a good lead.  He carried Kazrack.  Dorn followed him, and then came Martin, Bastian, Roland and finally Gunthar. The statue slid back in place behind them.

Down the metal steps they made their way, their bootsteps echoing up and down the dark shaft as they went.  Martin cast _radiant spark_ and the small orb of light followed him down. (3)  They could not tell exactly how far they had gone, but they certainly were deeper than the tower itself when the steps opened into a large round room that was nearly seventy feet across.  A hallway that was about fifteen feet wide led off into the dark in the northwestern quadrant of the circle, and there was another, even tighter circular stairway (this one of stone) in the center of the floor (and thus within the metal one the party descended).

The Keepers of the Gate fanned out in the room, taking a moment to catch their breath.  Martin the Green sent his  _radiant spark_ along the wall of the round room to reveal an intricate mosaic that ran around its entire length.  The continuity of the mosaic was only broken by three ribbon-like bands covered in lettering which swept up and down the length of wall, creating panels that divided the chronology of the events shown in the mosaic. It started on the right side of the hallway and went all the way around to its left. Martin followed it around seeing it depicted a tall armored warrior with a winged helm and a shining solar disc and ankh upon his shield.  He wielded a flaming sword as he entered into what could only be the Hells.  There was a river of blood and countless fiends bounding towards the hero in vile clusters. 

In the next panel the holy warrior was depicted destroying fiends by hacking them into pieces with his sword and blasting them with holy fire.  The third panel showed a scene with the warrior on his knees before the spirit of a beautiful woman wearing a shining locket, but it also depicted puppet strings that were connected to wooden handles held by a naked winged demoness upon a mountain manipulating the woman.  The fourth panel showed the paladin wearing the shining locket and cutting the head from the demoness as he stoods upon the gore-covered bodies of many more fiends. The final panel showed the man struggling to climb jagged steps up and out of Hell, but a small imp has torn the locket from his neck.  He had the look on his face as if had given up and would lie down to die and be damned if there were another panel to show it.

The ribbon-like bands of text were written in elvish, dwarvish and common.  Martin the Green read it aloud:

_Welcome to Hurgun’s Maze._
_Invited guests are guaranteed to be returned to the world they please  But rogues, thieves and rivals beware, even if you flee you might end up anywhere._
_Let those who fear to see the truth, take this other safer route.  And let those here for ill-gain take this last chance to do the same. . ._

The last bit of the ribbon displayed by the tiny tiles of the mosaic folded to a point as if to show the way out the hall.

“This might be your last chance to avoid doom, Dorn,” Martin turned to the cohort.  “Assuming it is not another trap, that is…”

Dorn shook his head. 

“So down that center stairway is Hurgun’s Maze?” Roland asked.

Martin shrugged.

“We should rest here before we enter,” Roland suggested.  “We are all near dead, Kazrack more than any other and we have all but depleted all of our granted miracles and spells.”

For once there was no argument.  They could only hope than no one else had figured out how to get under the statue, or even that that that was the place to go, and that they would not be taken by surprise in the night by Richard the Red’s group trying to sneak past, or scores of orcs coming down the stairs.

“At least we’ll hear anyone coming long before they get down here,” Roland said.

“Unless they come from that hallway,” Bastian pointed.

“That is the way out,” Ratchis said.  “I don’t think it is a way in.”

“I guess Hurgun of the Stone depended on his reputation to turn away those that got this far,” Martin said.

“I would think that anyone that got this far would not be so easily deterred,” Roland said.

“Probably, but at least then you couldn’t say that Hurgun didn’t try to warn you when some horrible thing happens to you in his place,” Bastian said, and Roland sneered at him and turned away.

Ratchis did his best to make Kazrack comfortable, and Dorn helped him to strip the dwarf of his armor.  Martin gathered up the magical items taken from the half-fiend gnomes, as he planned to identify them.  It was still early in the day, so they could get some rest, make preparations and then sleep in order to prepare spells again the next day and then enter the Maze.

Roland and Bastian barely spoke a word to each other while everyone else but Martin slept and rested.  Martin cast his spell and examined what items he could very closely.

A little more than eight hours later Kazrack stirred, (4) and Martin went over to attend him, calling for Ratchis to wake up.

“I am already awake,” the half-orc said, sitting up immediately.

“What happened?” Kazrack muttered, and Martin and Ratchis did their best to catch him up. 
Martin the Green seemed almost happy as he described the items he had _identified_, and the party quickly divvied them.  Gunthar took Mozek’s short sword, called _Hornet_ (5).  Roland was given the silver ring with the lion emblem (6), and Bastian was given Mozek’s elven mithral shirt, which grew to fit him. (7)  There was a potion of _lesser restoration_, which was given to Dorn to carry, and lastly, Martin took the _Ring of Marked Excellence_. (8) The watch-mage slipped it on.

“_Greetings and salutations, I am the ring of marked excellence_,” Martin heard within his head when he slipped on the ring.  “_I am here to serve you, or well, really anyone that wears me, but even though anyone can use me only an arcane caster can re-fill the spells I have been made to hold and I can sense you are quite a powerful one._

“I like being the only one who can talk in your head,” Thomas complained, and Martin scratched his familiar lovingly.

The ring told Martin which spells it could hold, but added, “_Currently I am without the bull’s strength, bear’s endurance, or cat’s grace spells_”

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

Many hours later, deep in what they thought was night, when everyone was asleep, even Martin, Bastian and Roland were on watch.  Bastian called to N’kron and fed the hawk some dried meat.  The bird had been hopping around the round room restlessly, gliding short distances and then hopping again as if annoyed.

“I've found these adventurers,” Bastian told his feathered friend mentally. “As it seems I was suppose to, but now I don't know what comes next, and when I was needed I was prohibited from directly assisting them.  I mean, the instant I thought about going on the offensive, my whole body seized up!” (9)

“A statue!” the hawk said, perking up a bit.  “I thought about going on you.”

“Well, I am glad you resisted you natural urges,” Bastian smiled, and threw another piece of the dried meat to his familiar.  He stood and walked over to where Roland was pacing along the wall.  The Bastite was in human form and was obviously fretting about something.  Bastian could see him chewing on his cuticles in the dim lantern light as he squinted at the mosaic.

“You wanted to talk to me?” Bastian asked.  “I mean, we seemed to leave our disagreement unresolved earlier.”

"I did...I do," He put one hand on Bastian's broad shoulder and gently drew the bearded warrior further aside, away from where the others slept. He also lowered his voice to a near whisper.  “I'm glad you came over. I really wanted to apologize for speaking so harshly to you during that last fight with the servants of Ptah and the air elemental. I appreciate that you're a man that looks for other solutions besides your weapon...but that's not all I wanted to say…”

Roland looked away and took a few further steps down the wall, placing a hand on the mosaic where the face of the spirit of the woman beseeched the kneeling paladin.  Bastian walked over close again.

“Okay. I have something to tell you that I'm just plain nervous about,” Roland continued.  He turned and looked right at Bastian, and his lip quivered the slightest bit. “I don't like being ashamed and I detest being nervous, so I'll just say it.”

“What is it?”

“I think I'm going to die tomorrow. I threw too much of my goddess' power around yesterday and got extremely lucky that the demon-gnome and his minions overlooked me. And while priests of my order are unusually lucky about evading death, but I just can't shake this feeling… All that luck has a way of catching up with you in time,” Roland sighed. “And that’s okay. I can die knowing that I've served my Queen faithfully and lovingly, but… but, I am still scared of dying and I am ashamed of being scared.”

Bastian opened his mouth to reply, letting the words roll around in his head and his mouth before speaking them in that near whisper of a voice he had, but Roland continued yet again, his voice getting just the slightest bit louder, “That probably leads you to ask, why am I telling you this? Why would I think you'd care? But I _do_ think you'd care. I feel it. I also feel…” The Bastite looked down again.  “I feel like I am falling in love with you.”

Bastian’s mouth open again, but this time it was a gape of surprise. There was a long moment of silence, but he never broke eye contact with Roland. The bearded warrior put a calloused hand on the narrow shoulder of the svelte priest of Bast. 

“Roland.  I am flattered that you think that much of me.  It takes a strong bond for those feelings to develop, one that I was not fully aware that we had,” Bastian began in his quiet way, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “You spoke of being fearful, yet you show tremendous courage to share those feelings with another. As for your apology, it is much appreciated, but hardly necessary.  You only did what you felt was the right thing to do, as you are doing now, and that is all that can be asked for.  But I have to ask, your mind is preoccupied with death on the morrow, have you received some sign or vision that suggests this?

"No, Bastian, none of the gods gave me a sign. I don't need signs," the young priest said with a small amount of heat, his soft voice gaining a strident tempo. His eyes narrowed as he nearly hissed out his next statement, "And I didn't say that I was falling in love with you to flatter you, so wipe that smirk off your face."

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to..." Bastian began to say.

"Shut up," Roland cut him off. "Just listen. I think it obvious that I largely go through my life by instinct. I have two major drives that govern my instincts...survival…" It was Roland’s turn to smirk slightly. “And pleasure." 

Roland continued, "My survival instinct is telling me that I'm going to have to be a little more cautious than usual in order to live through what's ahead of us. That's fine. Can do. But I'm really not so sure if others will let that happen. Kazrack alone has made me leap into danger a few times in order to keep him from dying. It's gotten me hurt, but up until now, I've done it. If I keep doing it...if I do the same tomorrow, I don't think I'll live through it. But I can't abandon them when they need me. I won't...even if it means I might die. So there you have it. No divine interventions...just plain, old-fashioned instinct. Bast teaches us to trust our instinct."

Roland sighed again, but even if Bastian had the propensity to fill up every silence, he knew that it was not the time to speak, and he let the Bastite continue when he was ready.

"And as for pleasure...well, when I think about dying I get angry and frightened and lonely," Bastian thought he saw Roland’s eyes begin to tear up in the lantern light. "And when that happens, when I need someone to comfort me, I can't stop thinking of you, Bastian. I can't stop thinking about what it'd be like to be close to you. Please, help me feel better, Bastian...if only tonight," Roland pleaded, touching Bastian's face gently.

Bastian drew the Bastite close and held him tight for a few minutes and then they sat very close together with their back to the wall.  Bastian tore a patch from his _robe of the wayfarer_ and in a moment he had a bottle of very fine golden wine to share.

They spent the rest of the night talking of old loves and dreams for the future. Roland rested his head on Bastian’s lap and Bastian stroked his hair tenderly.   In the morning, when it was time to wake the others, they hugged tightly again and shared a quick kiss before doing so. (10)


Isilem, the 2nd of Ese – 565 H.E.

The healing prayers to Nephthys, Rivkanal and Bast were a chorus of raised voices in the morning.  It was decided, however, that Kazrack and Ratchis would use most of the healing granted to them right away to get the group into fighting shape, while Roland would keep most of his in reserve for later.

“Before we go, I just wanted to say that I’m pleased to walk into certain death with you,” Roland announced to the group.  “You are loyal, brave and true and that doesn’t happen often.  Now, feel free to praise me back…”

There was a long awkward silence, finally broken by Gunthar’s guffaws and his rude gestures.

“Well,” Ratchis said, glaring at Gunthar, more to not have to look at Roland in the eye than from any real anger. “We would never have made it without you.”

“Why thank you!” Roland responded.

“We are only doing the duty that befell us,” Kazrack grumbled.  “We are due no praise and the quest is not yet complete, so let us get to it.”

“I love you, too, Kazrack,” Roland quipped with a wink.

The dwarf grumbled some more.

With a final check of their gear and a quick discussion of the spells they had prepared, the Keepers of the Gate began to make their way down the central stone spiral staircase. Ratchis led the way, followed by Kazrack, Roland (still in human form), Bastian, Martin the Green, Dorn, and finally Gunthar took up the rear.  “I’m the rearguard from Neergaard!” he laughed. 

The stairway was tight and deep and after a time Ratchis began to feel a bit disoriented, as if he were going no further and the steps were just turning in endless tight circles to oblivion.  Finally, the end of the stairway came; Kazrack could only guess that they had descended another two hundred feet deep in the earth.  Ratchis could see a red glow coming from the opening below and there was distinct rise in temperature.  Sweat immediately began to bead on the ridge of his brow.  They could all smell the nearly over-powering scent of burning sulfur.  They stopped to cast some spells to protect them from heat and fire.

They came down into a square room that was seventy-feet to a side.  The spiral stairway they had just come down was enclosed in a black stone cylinder in the very center of the room, and all about it were eight trapezoidal columns in sets of two that reached from the brown stone floor to a similar ceiling twenty-five feet above.  Ever-burning torches within sweating golden sconces hung on the columns.  Each corner of the room was roiling with a different energy. (11)

 The stairs opened to a corner that gave off the heat and some of the smell.  It was a roiling glowing pit of fire and magma., and at its center was a moving statue, a twirling bird of lava floating on the hot gases being emanated from the pit.  The bird shifted multiple hues of reds, oranges and yellows, and then exploded, spattering back into the magma.  The Keepers of the Gate were startled, and then suddenly the statue began to reform itself.  The roiling magma seemed to be kept in check by the pillars in that corner, which were of a blood red stone.

In the corner to the right of this was a dark impenetrable cloud of brown, gray, black and even blue smoke.  The puffs turned and spun around each other expanding and dissipating.  A variety of smells wafted through the two gray columns that held this corner in check.  There was hickory burning, incense, perfume, fish frying and then rotten eggs.

To the left of the fire was a pit of foul ooze with spouts of black and gray and green varieties of different consistencies.  The spurts of ooze would freeze into geometric shapes and then melt back into the goo with a hissing belch.  Here there were brown columns

Finally, in the corner diagonally opposite from the magma, were columns made of ice that sweat and wheezed.  Beyond was a frozen fountain that seemed to have overflowed, and at it center the statue of a translucent woman, her hair, and hands and elbows and back covered in sharp jagged icicles.

At the center of each wall was an arched doorway beyond which was a portal devoid of light.  It reminded them of the passage they took to Topaline. (12)

“It looks like a junction of the para-elemental planes,” Martin said, wiping his brow of sweat.  Bastian had to calm his bird, which flapped its wings angry at the heat and glare.

“It says something here,” Ratchis said. He was looking at the stone cylinder that held the steps they had just descended.  There were letters in common, dwarvish and elvish carved into the stone and traced in gold paint.   Martin the Green read it aloud.

It said: _Born of neighbors ever-struggling and volatile, act as a good neighbor or no fence can mend their anger._

“Hmm, it seems like a riddling version of the traditional wardings against outsiders,” Martin mused aloud.

“So we should be safe here as long as we act as good neighbors?” Bastian asked.

“Well, it won’t hurt to try,” Martin replied.  “Do not attack unless you are attacked.  Clearly and unequivocally attacked.”

“That would be worth taking the first blow to avoid conflict,” Ratchis agreed. He turned to Gunthar. “You get that?”

“Oh, we’re gonna get it alright,” Gunthar replied. “But that’s alright, ‘cause I can take it and I can dish it out.”

“From what I remember from the notes in the probably false vision I had when I first touched the Book of Black Circles, (13) the rooms here in this place move around, so any way is as good as any other I guess.”

“Wait! I fear this riddle is about this very room and these elemental nodes in these corners,” Kazrack said. “It may be that they are a form of ward, or that guardians emerge from them if we do not ‘act as a good neighbor’.  What else do good neighbors do?”

“They certainly don’t wander around someone else’s house uninvited,” Roland snapped.  “But it looks like that is what we came here to do, so we might as well get it over with.”

Kazrack nodded. “Remain alert,” the dwarf said.

Ratchis began to lead the way to the portal between the ooze and the ice corners.  The stone cylinder at the center of the room and began to turn of its own accord and rose into the ceiling, taking with it the entrance.

“I guess no one is going to be following us in here,” Kazrack said.

“There is a kind of relief to that,” Roland replied.

“It may be set for a certain amount of time, or there may be some other way to extend it,” Martin said.  “So we should not assume no one else can come down here.”

As the half-orc passed between the columns, Kazrack and Martin right behind him, Gunthar called out.

“Look!”

The ooze in the corner on the right was taking a large dripping humanoid form.

*End of Session #91*


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## el-remmen

---------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	*DM’s Note:*  Kazrack fumbled, rolling the following result: _Distracted_: Intended opponent gains immediate attack of opportunity at +4.

(2)	Derek was killed in Session #59? He fell from Ratchis’ grip when the steps the half-orc was climbing down collapsed.

(3)	*DM’s Note:* _Radiant Spark_ can be found here: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Spell+-+Radiant+Spark

(4)	*DM’s Note:*   Kazrack naturally regained enough hit points from his rest to go above 0 hit points.  Thus, he was not _exhausted_ when he awoke.  As Ratchis and Gunthar had rested eight hours they were no longer _exhausted_ or _fatigued_ either.  For a look at the recovery rules were use go here.

(5)	*DM’s Note:*   You can read about _Hornet_ here: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Magical+Item+-+Hornet

(6)	*DM’s Note:*   You can read about the _Ring of the Sentinel_ here: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Magical+Item+-+Ring+of+the+Sentinel

(7)	*DM’s Note:*   You can read about the magical elven chain shirt here: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Magical+Item+-+Enchanted+Elven+Chain+Shirt

(8)	*DM’s Note:*   You can read about _Ring of Marked Excellence_ here: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Magical+Item+-+Ring+of+Marked+Excellence

(9)	See Session #89 and #90

(10)	*DM’s Note:*   While the foundation for this scene between Bastian and Roland was set during the session, with a general agreement of what it was pertaining to and a little bit of an exchange, the majority of it was left to be handled between session via email.  I took large portions of the dialogue from those emails, though I edited it for length, while still wanting to give the two new-comers some spotlight time in the story hour.

(11)	See the scan of the first room of Hurgun’s Maze behind the spoiler tag.  I drew all the rooms ahead of time in scale for miniatures. [sblock]
	

	
	
		
		

		
			





[/sblock]  Sorry for the crappy scan and my shoddy artwork - it was the best I could do.

(12)	See Session #82

(13)	See Session #62


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## Manzanita

Very cool update.  I suppose the romantic part will garner the most conversation, but I was thrilled to finally be in the maze.  I love the unique magical items, as well.

I was somewhat fascinated with the PC/NPC romance btw Jana & Chance.  Did the Bastian/Roland thing happen as part of In-character play, or was it decided upon in metagame & then played out IC?


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## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Very cool update.  I suppose the romantic part will garner the most conversation, but I was thrilled to finally be in the maze.




As was I.  I can really taste the end of this story hour coming, though I wonder if I will finished it before we have our "reunion session" which is set for sometime this summer (or perhaps as late as September).

I hope to be able to provide a scan of each of the rooms of Hurgun's Maze the party visits.



			
				Manzanita said:
			
		

> I was somewhat fascinated with the PC/NPC romance btw Jana & Chance.  Did the Bastian/Roland thing happen as part of In-character play, or was it decided upon in metagame & then played out IC?




Well, for Chance and Jana, it was just a matter of Chance always acting in that over-obvious flirty way with Jana and not thinking it'd go anywhere - until one day Jana's player (Helene) having the young witch ask him to share a room with her.  From there, the matter never really had to be discussed - except for the occasional scene to reinforce their relationship a little bit.

For Bastian and Roland, it was more a matter of Roland's player (Black Cat) announcing that his character would wanna try to "get some" before going to near certain death inside the Maze and that Bastian seemed the most likely target of his affections.  So once it was determined that Bastian would not react in a negative way to this and that they would share an intimate moment of _some_ kind, they RPed it out over email.  At least that is how I remember it, maybe the players can come in and make a comment on the matter.


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## BlackCat

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Well, for Chance and Jana, it was just a matter of Chance always acting in that over-obvious flirty way with Jana and not thinking it'd go anywhere - until one day Jana's player (Helene) having the young witch ask him to share a room with her.  From there, the matter never really had to be discussed - except for the occasional scene to reinforce their relationship a little bit.
> 
> For Bastian and Roland, it was more a matter of Roland's player (Black Cat) announcing that his character would wanna try to "get some" before going to near certain death inside the Maze and that Bastian seemed the most likely target of his affections.  So once it was determined that Bastian would not react in a negative way to this and that they would share an intimate moment of _some_ kind, they RPed it out over email.  At least that is how I remember it, maybe the players can come in and make a comment on the matter.



It's funny you should mention Jana, actually. The fact that Chochokpi had heard of her and not of him made Roland really scared and even more miserable as they got closer to the Maze. He'd figured that it was possible that they would find her somewhere in the Maze and that he would die and nobody in the party would care, except for the fact that there was one less priest around. We'll certainly have an opportunity to revisit this point in the future.

But out of character, we knew there was a time when the party was asleep and I'd been thinking that Roland had been way too snippy with Bastian, so it made some sense that he'd want to be close to him.

We'd already established that Roland had been dating Mercy before but I pretty much saw Roland as an equal opportunity dater/lover. Gender really wouldn't figure into his love life terribly much...which worked well because the party was such a sausage fest.

I was pleased that Bastian's player wouldn't be adverse to the possibility of a relationship between the two characters and we decided to roleplay it out via IM.

I'm glad it's been included in the SH and I hope that everyone here enjoys reading it as much as I did. I have to admit to being somewhat nervous about it being read by the "audience" here.


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## Graywolf-ELM

I think it was tastefully done.  I don't feel that it overshadowed the update, or took away from the update.  The character development is interesting and often enjoyable to read.

GW


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## handforged

I enjoyed the update for several reasons.  One was the tasteful handling of a homosexual relationship.  I though this was done nicely by the player's and Nemm as DM/Author.  I also am very excited about finally having made it to the maze, and the descriptions of the room with the para-elements was quite amazing.

~hf


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## Richard Rawen

Enough about the 'relationship'. Like it or hate it, it was a few lines depicting role playing of charaters. Meanwhile a few Hundred Pages of story has led us to the Maze...

Are they truly 'in'? Will they survive the first round!? =P 
This Inquiring Mind Wants TO KNOW! =-)


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## el-remmen

I was very excited to finally get the group into Hurgun's Maze as well - and that I had done a good enough job of building the reputation of the place that they really were scared of every possible encounter in there, at the same time that they realized that just going in and fighting everything would not work as a strategy, especially if they might need to get the help of possible allies to be found among Hurgun's servants and guardians.

Something else I really like about this point in the campaign as well is how well Roland had meshed into the group - he finally came into his own somewhere between being "rescued" from the dwarven fortress by Kazrack and returning from Topaline.

Unfortunately, I do not think Bastian ever hit his stride in the same way.  I think his player/character was introduced too late to really have a fair chance of being as deeply involved, or have as much influence.

Lastly, at this point the players (*NOT* the characters) were also joking about a deadpool for Dorn.  How long into the Maze would he last?  He was but a 5th level cohort among a group of 8th to 10th level characters - so the fact that he would not survive seemed fairly certain.  However, when you see what happens I think you will pretty surprised


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #92* (part 1)

Kazrack cried out with alarm as the ooze formed into a fist-like pseudopod and slammed into his chest.  There was an acrid hiss as the delicate etching on his masterwork plate melted away.  The dwarf jerked back, certain the ooze would have burned through his labor of love in only a few moments of contact.

Roland hastily prayed to Bast to grant him _protection from energy _ gearing it towards acid and drawing his crossbow, drew back.

The Keepers of the Gate withdrew and Ratchis called out, “Martin, make the call soon!”

“Feel free! Attack!” Martin the Green said, confused that the sole responsibility had fallen on him. (1) “It attacked us first.”  With an additional word of the arcane he cast _mage armor_ upon himself.  

Dorn moved behind Ratchis and loaded his crossbow, turning his head from side to side to keep an eye on the corner of the room oozing its magma phoenix.   

Two arrows from Gunthar hissed and disintegrated as they plunged into the vaguely humanoid ooze para-elemental.  Its limbs dripped with each step forward, leaving behind slimy green and brown bits of itself that snaked back into the corner pit it had emerged from, creating a trail.

Bastian called for flame in his dialect of dwarven and hurled it at the thing, but it snuffed out as it struck it.

Kazrack ducked another of the thing’s psuedopods as it drove them back towards the center of the room, below the raised column that held the stairs.  Roland stepped in front of Bastian with words of prayer on his lips, but the prayer became a cry of agony as the heavy limb of the thing slammed him.  The Bastite lost his spell and stumbled backward, dropping his crossbow.  Bastian stepped to the side to draw its attention and tried to cast again, but again the thing whipped a limb out and the bearded warrior-warlock found his spell was  ruined as well.

Kazrack, Ratchis and Gunthar moved in.  Their metal weapons hissed as they sometimes cut pieces both great and small from the ooze elemental, leaving trails of acrid smoke to trace the arc of their swing.  However, most of the blows made shallow cuts that were reabsorbed into its slimy mass.  Martin crept forward and with a mental nudge cast _bull’s strength_ from his _ring of marked excellence_ upon Gunthar.   

“Thank you for using me, kind sir,” the ring said in the watch-mage’s mind.  “But really you should fill me up with more spells.  I am nearly depleted.”

Bastian flung more flame at the thing and this time it seemed to shrink the slightest bit from it.

“Everyone back up and let it come to us,” Ratchis said, and Gunthar and Kazrack immediately complied.  The half-orc stepped back as well, and had to duck the swing of the thing.  Another pseudopod stretched out far, scoring Kazrack’s armor once again.

“Krauchaar! Bless my bones and make me strong so that I might fell my foes easier,” Kazrack called to the dwarven warrior god.

As Roland was overcome by the powerful scents of the room when he transformed into his panther shape, Bastian leapt at the para-elemental, ducking one of its blow and doing a shoulder roll to get back to his feet on the other side of it, warhammer in hand.

“Bastian!  Not that way!” Ratchis said to him.  “This way!  We need to all stick together and decide one way to go.”

Bastian shrugged and dove through the monster’s threatened area again, easily avoiding its blow, but Ratchis must have been momentarily distracted because he suddenly felt the weight of a burning punching blow strike him on the side of the head.  He stumbled back, and Roland immediately cast a healing spell that resealed the blistered and bruised skin.  Kazrack stepped between and cut another hunk from the para-elemental.

“Stick with the plan,” Kazrack said.  “Fall back, everybody back.”  But by then, having reached the center of the room,  where the stairs had one been, the Keepers of the Gate were unsure of which way to go.

Gunthar’s left hand stabbed with great speed using Mozek’s sword, _Hornet_.   There was a rain of slime whenever he closed with it, keeping it at bay with the longer blade as he repeatedly plunged in the other.  Suddenly the top part of the vague humanoid swelled up and it thrust itself into Gunthar shoving him back with great strength.  Gunthar cried out as he tried to push back, pressing into the acidic ooze, but he slid right between the two gray columns where multi-colored fragrant smoke puffed and twirled.

“This thing is nastier than the abortion bucket at a whorehouse,” Gunthar said, as he swung his melting longsword.  He had managed to keep his feet, but his non-magical blade was whipping bits of slag with every swing.

Kazrack, who was closest to the smoke-filled corner side spun around in time to feel the immaterial black claws of a smoke elemental slip through his armor and slice his flesh beneath.

“Finish this thing!” Ratchis roared, but the ooze elemental sucked itself back into a ball to avoid his vicious blows.  Kazrack leapt away from the smoke elemental and brought his magical halberd down on the ooze in a wide downward chop.  The thing exploded sending acid in all directions.  Ratchis and Kazrack absorbed most of it, patches of skin and hair burning away.  Ratchis looked down to watch the individual globules rolls slowly back into the corner the creature had emerge from, and saw that his _Boots of Uller_ were now less than rags on his feet, and he winced as he felt the burning cold of the stone floor on his bare soles.

“The acid pool retreats,” Roland warned the others.  “It may reform.  We need to pick a way and go!”  He hurried back towards the original portal they headed towards, and Dorn and Bastian followed him.

Martin the  Green drew _the Wurfel Kraft_ from its pouch and activated the side depicting grapes.

The smoke para-elemental floated silently after them. It was a column of black, blue and orange, twirling and expanding within itself.  It had two ghostly black claws that hung beneath it as if dragged by an invisible string.  It enveloped Bastian as the man spun around.  The smells passed over him like waves, taking his mind away to some memory or another each time. Baked beans, frying fish, the musk of a boar’s den, the spoiled stench of a pig sty, the disgust of burning hair.  Suddenly, Bastian realized he could not breath.  The smoke elemental was as much within his lungs as around him, and he jerked in pain as the claws raked over his chest.

Roland roared and leapt at the Bastian, knocking him back out of the thing.  The Bastite felt the thing’s sharp claws catch his back as he leapt away, and Bastian bent over and let out a hacking cough.  Black smoke emerged from his mouth and he stumbled into the cube’s blue field, leaning on Martin for a moment as he caught his breath.  The elemental monster twirled and snaked across to Ratchis who was now making for the black lightless doorway as well, and in half a moment it now enveloped him.

“What the f*ck are you looking at, Pointy? Gunthar was heard to say, and everyone turned to see him address a pyramidal modron that looked exactly like the one they had left on the tower above. (2)   It had come through the black portal between the smoke and the ice corners and was walking with determination into the center of the room.

“Everyone gather about me!  The smoke cannot enter the cube,” Martin said, following the modron as it changed direction without turning its body, now moving towards the same door the party was headed towards.  Each of its three upright sides had a large yellow eye, and a bill like horn for a mouth.  It had three arms and three legs, one of each on each of those sides. (3)  It disappeared through the portal.

Holding his breath, Ratchis managed to leap into the cube’s blue field before breathing in any of the smoke elemental.  In a moment, everyone was crammed within it, as the para-elemental hovered above them.  Martin moved the cube right up against the portal and the wall there.

“We should all go through together,” Kazrack said of the portal.

“I can slowly move the cube forward allowing us to pass through in a line grasping hands and bringing _the Wurful Kraft’s_ field with us,” Martin suggested.  “But, if this is like the door to the pocket dimension that held the city of Topaline, then we will be blind when come through the other side.”

“I don’t think Hurgun would have made doors in his house that make you blind every time you go through them,” Roland said.

“He may have had way to make himself immune to that side-effect,” Martin posited.

“We have no choice,” Kazrack said.  “The best we can hope for is that we stay together.”

The Keepers of the Gate locked arms and Kazrack stepped out of the cube and through the portal.  He felt a shock of cold as all went black, but Ratchis cried out as he felt something stab at his very being.  Stunned, he fell through the portal behind the dwarf, but Dorn who was next cried out as well and let go of the half-orc.  The Herman-lander reeled as he tried to shake off the pain, so he could not resist when Gunthar shoved him through the portal after the first two.  Roland, who had been grabbing onto the rear of Dorn’s coat with his teeth, yowled and let go, falling to one side stunned. 

Gunthar shrugged and leapt through and Bastian helped Roland to his feet and sent him through as well.  The bearded warrior leapt through with Martin right behind.

--------------------------------------------------
Kazrack and Ratchis found themselves in a short dark tunnel of some sort with an arched ceiling. It was barely more than fifteen feet long and just about the same width, and ended in a portcullis of broad metal bands, from beyond which came a dull yellow light.

“I hope this delay does not mean we have been separated,” Ratchis was saying to Kazrack as he rubbed at the pain in his temples. Dorn stumbled through and fell to the ground.  Gunthar came right behind him.

“Where are we now?” the Neergaardian’s voice reverberated down the short tunnel.  There was murmur of clicks from beyond the portcullis.

“Did you hear that?” Kazrack was asking as Roland came through with Bastian right on his heels.

“What is this place?” Roland asked when he regained his senses.  He walked over to the portcullis and began to sniff at the openings in it.  

Martin the Green stepped through. 

“My! It is a lot more crowded in here than I though it would be,” he said, and with that the portcullis began to slowly rise.

“Intruders.  Come forward for judgment,” came the clockwork voice of what could only be some kind of modron.  Its voice was eight tones that complimented each other in cold harmonies, two, three, four even five at a time, the chords changing with each word.  There was another murmured cacophony of clicking that washed around them in the cramped tunnel.

“Maybe we should go back and try another way,” Ratchis said.

“These creatures obviously dwell here,” Kazrack reasoned.  “We should not flee from them, but step forward and explain our cause.”

“The voice said something about ‘judgment’,” Ratchis replied.  “What if they judge against us?”

“I see no reason why they would, we have done nothing wrong,” Ratchis opened his mouth to interrupt, but Kazrack just continued on in a harsh whisper. “But if such a thing were to happen, we’ll be sure to stand by Martin and he can activate the cube and we can push our way out of there.”

Since no one could think of a better plan, and the modrons seemed more likely to be parleyed with than the para-elemental guardians, they stepped past the risen gate.  Ratchis and Kazrack led the way, with Martin close behind them.  The trio was followed by Dorn and Roland, and Bastian and Gunthar took up the rear.

The Keepers of the Gate stepped out into a tiered gallery.  This chamber seemed much the same square shape and size as the first room of the Maze, but the floor level was only thirty feet long and twenty-five feet wide, and surrounded by twelve foot tall walls.  The entire place seemed carved from one immense cube of living rock.  The ceiling was arched and plated in dull gold that emanated the yellow light of the chamber.

Directly across from them was another portcullis, this one closed and above it was a elaborate stone balcony set with a tall-backed stone throne-like chair.    The balcony was carved from the great angular stone that made up the rear wall.  There was a closed portcullis to the left and right beneath the tiers as well. (4) There were no seats behind or above it.  The tiers were connected by short narrow stone steps, and each one was not much wider than five feet.  

The tiered seats were filled with nearly two score modrons of various kinds.  There were nearly a dozen of the pyramidal ones, but nearly a score had one eye and round spheres for bodies, with two spindly legs, tiny wings and no arms. (5) There were a handful of six-sided cube-bodied modrons, with two legs that ended in black hooves and two arms, but with two eyes on each of its facing sides. (6)

The balcony was flanked by a pair of pentadrones (7) that spun, lifting their flat limbs slightly as they buzzed. And within the balcony propped awkwardly atop the throne was the strangest of these creatures yet.  Its head was a great sphere with ten round eyes set evenly about it, and beneath each was a long tentacle that ended in a narrow clawed finger.  The top of the sphere was a wide mouth, and the whole head rested on a pair of trunk-like elephantine legs.  

"Intruders. You shall be judged,” they heard the freakish thing before them say.  Its mouth did not move, but there was no doubt it came from the lead modron.  A tentacle touched something on a panel before the throne and the portcullis behind them slammed shut.  “I am the Decaton. (8)  I command the collective for the Master.”

“Whatta load of freaks!” Gunthar swore.  Roland hushed him.

“Martin, step forward,” Kazrack whispered, stepping aside to let the watch-mage past.  “You are our best talker.”

“The first question of this inquiry shall be question number one, and question number one is: Do you have an invitation?” the decaton asked.

“Oh great and unerring servant of Ptah,” Martin began looking up with arms outstretched in exaggerated supplication. “We come seeking to save our world from the random fluctuations that threaten to tear it apart because of the very existence of this Maze.  We did not mean to arrive without an invitation, but it an emergency.”

“No invitation, no admittance,” the decaton said, and all the other modrons echoed the rule.  “Admission with out invitation is a violation.”  The thing’s multi-toned voice hit a sharp dissonant chord when it said its last word.

“Violation. Violation,” the modrons all repeated in agreement in their cold voices.

“We did not seek to violate this place or its rules,” Kazrack spoke up.  “But we have come to save your master, Hurgun of the Stone.”

“Perhaps you are unaware that he is trapped in the center of his own Maze and he must be rescued if the Maze is to be moved away from Aquerra and he is to retain control of it," Martin added.  “Our goals here are selfless, but others who may soon access it will be not be so.”

“There is no center of the Maze,” the decaton replied, its voices striking dissonance again when it spoke the word ‘center’.  “You are operating with incomplete data.  Incomplete data leads to violations.  Violation equals re-assimilation or banishment.  Decaton calls to the gallery for affirmation of judgment.”

“Wait! Wait!” Martin cried out.  “We have done nothing.  We are here to stop the planar bleed. Surely Hurgun left you with instructions of what to do if he did not return.”

“We await your judgment, Decaton,” the other modrons all said.

“Is there not a second in command? An assistant to Hurgun?” Martin asked.

“Gilbart,” the Decaton replied with a warm group of tones that hummed nicely at the base of the back.  “Gilbart is absent.”

The Keepers of the Gate all looked at each other, but none recognized the name.

“Outsider influence has led to corruption and re-programming of crucial modron units,” the Decaton said.  “ We operate at less than full capacity.  The modron maintenance re-assimilation station is no longer operational.  However, judgment must still be made.”

“But you said yourself that we are operating with insufficient data,” Martin reasoned.  “And now, so are you.  _You_ will be in violation!”

“Judgment has been reached, ” the Decaton said.  “These before the Collective have been found in violation of the rules of admission and thus must face banishment, ”  The last word words squelched in the party’s ears, and they winced.  “All in favor?” 

The modrons clicked, “Aye” in perfect unison.

“Those against?”  The only sound was Martin the Green growing desperate.

“You have been found to be in violation, ” the decaton said to the Keepers of the Gate.  “You are to be banished.  You must GO TO HELL! ”

The decaton pointed to the portcullis on their left with three of his tentacles while another depressed something on the console before him, and it started to rise.

“You have no authority to do this,” Martin protested.  “We have done nothing to deserve this fate!”

“Please step to the left, ” the Decaton said in a perfunctory manner.

The Keepers of the Gate looked at each other dumbfounded as all the modrons around them clicked and whirred and repeated the words “banishment” and “hell” to each other in perfect agreement.

“What can we do to not go to Hell?” Kazrack asked. “How may we make up for being in violation?”

The decaton turned its great spherical head so that one of its eyes was looking right at Kazrack, while another looked right at Martin.

“Can you repair the modron station? We cannot re-assimilate.  We cannot repair the damage, ” the Decaton said.

“Yes! Please allow us a chance to repair it!” Martin took up the slim hope. “You are obviously not functioning at full capacity and need to be serviced at this modron station.  We can help you and then you can help us help Hurgun.”

“Outsider influence, ” the Decaton said.  “Our numbers dwindle remaining unassimilated because of the strange monkey demon.  It was in violation.  The Master was seeing to it. ”

“Mitha-agogol! (8)” Martin cried.  “How long ago?”

“It has not been seen since…” the thing’s huge head jerked back and forth spasmodically and it clicked and whirred unintelligibly.  “Please step to the left. ”

“You cannot pass judgment if you are in need of repairs,” Roland said.  “Your judgment might be flawed and then, as Martin said, you would be in violation and would have to banish yourself to Hell.”

“Direct us to this modron station and we will do our best to fix it for you,” Kazrack said.

“Modron station is past Hell, ” the Decaton said.  “Please step to the left. ”  It pointed with six of its tentacles this time.

“We formally request permission to visit the modron station before going to Hell in order that it might be fixed,” Martin said.

“Request approved on conditional basis, ” the Decaton replied.

“And uh, we’d like a guide,” Martin added.  “Perhaps a tridrone to show us the way to the Modron Station?”

“Tridrone-9,” the Decaton announced, and a pyramidal modron presented itself at the left hand exit that was now open.  “Designation Nine will guide this outsider contamination to the room of Hell and beyond to the modron station.  This is Rule Priority Two, second only to your primary designation.”

“Yes, Decaton,” the tridrone replied in its honking voice.

“We thank you for your kind aid,  and hope we can return the favor by repairing the modron station, defeating the monkey-demon and rescuing your master from whatever fate has befallen him,” Martin said.  He turned to the tridrone guide. “Lead away, good Tridrone.  Guide us to this modron station at once!”

The pyramid of ruddy flesh upon spindly legs made a slight adjustment and then retreated back down the tunnel to the left.  Ratchis and Kazrack followed it, followed closely by Martin and then the rest.

As the last of them passed under the portcullis it slammed shut and they could hear the decaton say, “Sentence rendered: To Hell! ”  The modrons in the gallery clicked their agreement.

The Keepers of the Gate found themselves in a tunnel much like the one they first appeared in, except this one had narrow stone stairs leading up to the gallery tiers on either side.  They were blocked by gates of their own.

”Tridrone-9, please lead us to the modron station,” Martin asked the modron again.

“This. Way.” It clicked and scurried through the portal of darkness at the end of the tunnel.

“Do you think Hell is really, you know… _Hell_?” Roland asked Martin.  “I mean, like the plane realm ruled by Set?” (9)

Martin could only shrug as each member of the party passed through the portal in turn.


----------



## el-remmen

---------------------------------------------------
*Notes:*
(1)	See Last Session, when the Keepers of the Gate decided they would let thing clearly attack them before they attacked. 

(2)	This was the creature the part had met in Garvan in Session #16, and discovered it was missing in Session #51.  They assume it was the same one that was killed when the wyvern carrying it slammed into the tower above (see Session #89)

(3)	For more about Tridrones go here

(4)	See the Map behind the _sblock_  Though I fear it may not help to explain the room without more description.  The dotted line walls are on from the point of view of the floor level, beneath the tiers.  And the stairway behind the throne and console goes down into the tunnel beneath the balcony.   Each level was approximately four feet above the one below it, so it was about thirty feet from the highest tier to the lowest level. [sblock]
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




[/sblock]

(5)	Monodrones [sblock]
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




[/sblock]

(6)	Quadrones [sblock]
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




 [/sblock]

(7)	Pentadrones [sblock] 
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




 [/sblock]

(8)	Decaton [sblock] 
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




 [/sblock]

(9)	Actually, Set is only the ruler of three of the layers of the Nine Hells, conquering them when he fled the Prime after _The Time Before_.


----------



## Ciaran

el-remmen said:
			
		

> “You have been found to be in violation,” the decaton said to the Keepers of the Gate.  “You are to be banished.  You must GO TO HELL!”



And this is why it's bad to roll a 1 on your Diplomacy check.


----------



## Manzanita

Martin seemed to do a good job to me, considering the circumstances.  I know Modrons are published somewhere.  Are all these creatures from Planescape?  Paraelementals are probably from the old favorite Fiend Folio


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> I know Modrons are published somewhere.  Are all these creatures from Planescape?  Paraelementals are probably from the old favorite Fiend Folio




I adapted Modrons to 3E myself based on some conversions I found online, but I am not much of a straight conversion kind of guy. 

Actually, both modrons and paraelementals were in the old 1E Monster Manual II - but the latter I got from the the 3.0 Manual of the Planes.


----------



## el-remmen

*11 sessions to go. . .*

*Session #92 (part ii)*

“Is this the modron station?” Martin the Green asked as he stepped out of the portal. This time there were no unpleasant side-effects.  It seemed that something about trying to go through too slowly or touching another living thing was what caused the stunning effect.

“No, this is clearly Hell,” Roland said, hearing the watch-mage’s question as he came into the room as well.  He was still in panther-form and he scrunched up his muzzle as the sulfurous smell of the air of the room filled his sensitive feline nostrils.  “At least, it smells like it.”

They were in a darkened room.  A fifteen foot wide path led to another of the black portals seventy-five feet across the chamber.  The ceiling here was much lower than it had been in the audience chamber, only about twenty feet.  The center of the path widened to create a kind of central room enclosed by partitioned walls that made the narrow halls that branched around the outside of the chamber to the left and right. (1)  The center area was illuminated by a dull red light that stung the eyes ever so slightly and ruined Ratchis’ and Kazrack’s darkvision. 

The tridrone had procured a feather duster from some corner and was brushing off some objects resting on shelves built into the inside other angular partitioned walls that created the center area.

Martin the Green walked over to it, looking around with paranoia as he activated the _rune of light_ medallion about his neck with a word. There was a heavy sense of doom in the air here that the light of the medallion could not dispel, even when Dorn activated the one he wore as well.

”Tridrone-9, please show us to the modron station,” Martin said to it.

“Dirty. Must. Clean,” it chirped.

“Oh Bast, don’t tell me this thing is not functioning,” Roland complained of the pyramidal creature, creeping forward silently on his padded paws.

“Must show us to the modron station,” Martin repeated, inadvertently adopting its cadence.  “So said the Decaton.”

“Secondary designation.  Primary designation. Clean,” the tridrone said, cryptically.

Martin turned to Roland, shrugging.  “I think it is working as well as these things ever work.”

Ratchis and Kazrack came walking over when suddenly everyone froze. There was a momentary scream of agony that came from the far side of the room to the left.  It was a hoarse scream that cut short.

“There may be someone kept prisoner in here,” Roland said.

“Or being punished,” Martin said.  “We may have discovered the reason why this room is called ‘Hell’.”

The Keepers of the Gate hurried past the central area, making a note of the objects found in there.  On the left shelf was a silver flask with a black cap, and on the right one was a worn leather satchel.  On the black stone pedestal in the center of the area, which the tridrone had been dusting, was a large black sapphire about half the size of a man’s fist.  It rested on a black velvet cushion and the black metal plate it rested on was carved with some kind of runes.  But they left it behind, making their way around the left partition wall to the small room in that corner.

Ratchis was the first to look in but the area beyond was dark to him despite his darkvision.  When Dorn walked over the light of his medallion was swallowed by the darkness of the room and suddenly Ratchis could see in the gray tones he was used to. Finally, when Martin arrived with his light the room was illuminated. (2)  The barren room beyond had two twenty foot long perpendicular rear walls, but the wall the entrance was in was at an angle, halving the room’s effective size.  

There was a man dressed in a plain white tunic made gray with dust and dirt.  He was writhing around on the floor of the room.  He brought his hands to his head and rolled over and then shook with spasms and then seized up.  He grabbed at his hair and then covered his ears, and then curled up into a ball.  All along the man looked as if he were screaming in agony, but no sound emerged from him.   

Martin turned to say something to Ratchis, but no sound came from his mouth either.

The man seemed to take no notice of them.  He continued to shake and writhe and sob silently.  Sometimes he would try to get up only to collapse again.

The party gathered outside of the room to talk.

“He probably stumbled out of the range of the silence momentarily and that was why we heard him,” Martin speculated.

Kazrack frowned and walking into the room grabbed the man by the shoulders and dragged him out.  From the moment they emerged from the area of the magical _silence_ the man’s screams became almost too much to bear.  Over and over he screamed, sometimes saying something that almost sounded like a name, but mostly it was unintelligible. 

Kazrack tried a _cure minor wounds_, but nothing seemed to calm the man.   Roland called for Bast to give him the power to see magical dweomers and the cried out in alarm.  The magic emanating from the man was overwhelming!  He went in and checked the room while the spell was still active and noticed a strong aura coming from something on the far left wall.  It was a framed document scrawled in what could only be blood, but the language was unknown to Roland.  

Martin the Green went in and examined it and then came back out.

“I cannot read it without aid of a spell, but it is certainly the infernal tongue of Hell,” Martin said to the others.  “My guess is that it is a contract of some sort.”

“So this man is suffering because he signed himself over to Hell?” Roland asked, rhetorically. 

They dragged him back into the _silenced_ room so they would not have to hear him while they decided what to do about him.  The tridrone walked over and then into the room, reaching up to dust the framed contract.

“As much as it pains me to do this, we have to leave this man here,” Ratchis said.  “We do not know the reason why he is here or in this condition, and we do not have the means to save him now anyway.  We need to focus on finding the modron station.”

“Well, it seems our guide must clean this room first,” Roland said, annoyed. “So we might as well take a look around.”

They walked back the central area of the chamber to find Gunthar already there.  He had the satchel in hand and was undoing the button that kept it closed.

“Gunthar! Stop!” Martin hurried and placed a hand on the Neergardian’s arm.  Gunthar pulled away angrily.  He reached into the satchel and his face took on a puzzled look for a moment and then he drew a longsword of masterwork quality from within it.  The sword was at least three times longer than the apparent depth of the bag.

“Is it magical?” Gunthar asked Roland.

“No,” Roland replied.  “And at best it is useless to us, but it is probably cursed.”

“You’re lying,” Gunthar spat.

“Gunthar, we shouldn’t touch anything,” Martin said.  “We don’t know what unforeseen consequences taking things might have.”

“Bah! What’s the point of coming to a place from the Age of Adventurers if you can’t take anything?” Gunthar complained.  He shoved the sword back into the satchel and placed it back on the shelf without buttoning it shut.

Kazrack was looking at the black sapphire on the pedestal with a frown.  The runes about it were a name in dwarven.  It said, “_Dwitek Chem Agh-Lorgh_.” The name was familiar to him, but he was unsure why it would be on the metal plate beneath the gemstone. (3)

“Roland, is this gem magical?” he asked.

“Yes,” the Bastite replied.

Tridrone-9 emerged from the _silenced_ room and began to walk into the room in the far right corner which was also obscured by magical darkness.

“We should keep it in sight,” Martin said.  “We do not want it leaving the room without us knowing which way it went.”

The Keepers of the Gate went into that room.  It was similar to the _silenced_ room in shape and was barren except for a great chair carved of the same black stone as the walls of the chamber.  The rear of the chair leaned back, so the pale naked man laying upon it was nearly lying down.

Martin turned to Ratchis, “I leave any decisions regarding freeing any of these people to you, as you are a priest of Nephthys.  I defer to your wisdom on these matters.”

The Friar nodded.   The tridrone was now dusting the naked man and the Keepers of the Gate approached to take a better look.  He was very pale, nearly albino, but with black stringy hair and no eyebrows.  He had broad shoulders and was well-muscled.  The man’s eyes were closed.

“He’s not breathing,” Martin said, pointing to the man’s chest.

“Could this be the ‘Gilbart’ the lead modron mentioned?” Ratchis asked.

“Doubtful,” Martin pulled his hand away from his own face, as he had been unconsciously picking at the gray scabs of his disfigurement. (4) “Uh… He’s too muscular to be a wizard’s apprentice.”

“My! Martin, but that’s _magist_!” Roland said.

The watch-mage shrugged his shoulders.  “I went to a whole school full of mages,” he replied.  “Let’s just say the athletic program was an elective.”

“Elective?” Roland asked.

“An optional class,” Martin explained.

“Oh, why would any one opt to take a class?” Roland purred.  “I always found school so boring, and experience a much better teacher.”

“Can we concentrate on the task at hand?” Ratchis asked with venom in his growling voice.

Martin kneeled beside the tridrone.  “If I help you clean can we move on and you can show us to the modron station?”

The tridrone did not respond.  It continued to dust.   Martin spoke an arcane word and with a _prestidigitation_ he cleaned off the naked man.

The tridrone turned three times as if confused and then left the room.  The others moved aside to let it by, and then as a group the whole party followed the modron.  Tridrone-9 walked around the central area and disappeared into the darkness of another corner room.

Bastian and Dorn stopped at the entrance to the room, the light of the latter’s medallion swallowed by the magical _darkness_ within.  Kazrack walked over, being able to see into the room with his darkvision. Ratchis was right behind him and could see something reflective for a moment.

There was a long silence.  “So what’s in there?” Dorn asked Ratchis.  There was no answer.

“Ratchis?” Dorn asked again.  “Kazrack?”  There was still no answer.  “Martin! Something happened to Ratchis and Kazrack!  They’re gone!”

With an arcane word in a dwarven dialect, Bastian cast light upon his shield, and now this second spell illuminated the small room beyond.  Martin and Roland were on their way over when there was a strange flash and the light was gone.

“Bastian?  Dorn?” Martin the Green said, coming forward.

“I don’t smell them,” Roland said.  “I don’t smell any of them, except…”

There was a shuffle and a snort from within the darkened room. “They are all gone, and something is in that room that isn’t any of them,” Roland said.  He and Martin retreated into the red light of the central room, where Gunthar was looking at the flask.

There was a thump of a heavy bare footstep and another snort and the sound like a large fist slamming against a chest.  A great ape leapt out of the darkness into the red light.  It was over seven feet tall and had blue-black fur on its head and shoulders that slowly became gray towards the legs.  It snarled and swung over on its great knuckles.  

Martin gasped.  The top of the thing’s skull was gone from just above the eyes and there a great swollen green and blue pulsating brain emerged.  Its moist eyes shone blue-green.

“I told you not to touch anything,” Gunthar admonished, drawing his partially melted longsword.

“We are free,” the gorilla said in a husky voice.  His teeth were bright white and his fangs very long. His nostrils flared and he stuck out his chest as he got even closer.  Martin took a step back. “Human! Where is Hurgun?”

“Wuh… We do not know,” Martin replied.  “We seek him ourselves.  I am Martin the Green of the Academy of Wizardry, and we seem to have lost our companions.  Would you know where they might be?”

The gorilla snorted.  “We care not for your human academies,” he replied. “Ming, King of the Dakkons, only cares to find Hurgun so we might get our revenge on him.  Beware him, if you truly seek him, humans, for he is a crafty foe that has no respect for his betters.”

“Uh, you said you were free?” Martin ventured.  “Where were you captured?”

“Within the _mirror of trapping_, left to stare at our glorious self for a seeming instant, which now in my memory weighs as an eternity,” Ming said.  “It must be full now and your companions looking into it must have freed us.  How ironic that the stupid luck of humans would free the King of the Dakkons!  When we rule Aquerra again, we shall remember to keep some of your kind as slaves in honor of your own stupidity.” (5)

“Rule it _again_?” Martin asked.

“Bah!  We must find Hurgun!” The gorilla straightened up and craned his head looking for the ways out, acting as if the three adventurers were beneath his notice.  

“Wait!  How can we get our friends out of the mirror?” Martin asked.

“Heh.  Why should we help such lowly humans?” Ming thumped his chest once and snarled.

“We helped you, even if by accident,” Martin replied.  “Plus, it would anger Hurgun.  Wouldn’t you like that?”

“Yes… Yes, it would please us,” Ming said.  “But Ming does not help humans for nothing.  Give me those rings you wear.  We see their dweomers.  They would please us.”

“Uh, I need these rings,” Martin said.  “Well, I  guess I can part with one…”  He took off the _Ring of Marked Excellence_ eager to stop hearing the ring’s begging in his mind that began the moment he mentioned the possibility. It did not want to be handed over to a huge gorilla with an exposed pulsating brain.  “I shall give you this ring and you shall tell us how to free our friends.”

The ring was dropped in the gorilla’s great palm.  “Smash the mirror,” the gorilla snarled, enclosing the ring within his fist.  “Smash the mirror and they shall all be free.”  Ming snorted and puffed up his chest again and, slamming it twice, took off for the portal out the other side of the room.

“I don’t know if we should believe him,” Roland said after the gorilla was gone.  “Smashing it seems like it might be the way to have them be lost forever.  Perhaps there are instructions for the use of the mirror somewhere in the Maze and we can go find them and return.”

Martin shook his head.  “We have no way of knowing if such a thing exists, where it might be, and if we could ever make our way back to this room if we leave without them.  I think we have no choice but to trust the ape and smash the mirror.”

“What about…” Roland stopped himself.  “No, that would not be right…”

“What?” asked Martin.

“I thought we might use the tortured man or the breathless man to try to activate the mirror,” Roland explained.  “If what Ming said is right and the mirror _is_ full, then when someone gets sucked in someone else will come out.”

“Except…”

“Except we don’t know what order they will come out in, and if it is first in first out then we will not have enough bodies lying around to get to Ratchis and Dorn and the others,” Roland said.  “Not to mention the nebulous morality of using those men for that purpose anyway.  Or… we could use the tridrone.”

“No, that would not be right either, if they are even affected by such a thing,” Martin replied.  “No, we must smash it.”

“What if take the mirror off of the wall and use it as a shield against the next foe we face? We get them to look into it and have someone else come out and so on until we get Snuffles, Stumpy, Beardy and the other guy out of there,” Gunthar spoke up with a suggestion.

“No, we should smash it because I think that is what Ratchis would say to do if he were here,” Martin reasoned.  “I’ll do it.”

“No,” Gunthar put up a hand and stopped the watch-mage as he stepped towards the mirror room. “You are the brains of the group and if there is a bad consequence to breaking it we should not put your dough-ass on the line.  Roland should do it.”

“I’m not going to do it,” Roland replied.  “I’m just a pussycat, remember?  Maybe you’re one too?”

”No, I am not,” Gunthar said.  “But it seems I was right about you.”  He hefted his slagged longsword and walked into the darkness.  “Here goes nothing!” His voice echoed out of the small room, following by the sounds of breaking glass.

*End of Session #92*

-------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1) See the map of the ‘Hell’ room for a better idea of what it looked like.  Again this is a scan of the scale map I made for use by minis.  The room needed to be pre-drawn for easy ability to switch between them without having to draw each time.  The place is not called a “maze” for nothing.  The map is behind the sblock to protect against spoilers. [sblock]
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	



The darkened corners are the smaller rooms that each held a kind of prisoner.
[/sblock]

(2) The four corners were cloaked in permanent magical darkness.  The first _light_ counter acted the magical darkness leaving the area cloaked in normal darkness which Ratchis could see through, but it took a second source of magical light for the place to actually be illuminated. 

(3) ‘_Dwitek Chem Agh-Lourgh_’ is the name of the last "official" king of a united dwarven nation.

(4) Remember Martin the Green’s face has been slowly shriveling away, exposing raw yellowed flesh beneath and black veins just under the skin.  He also lost most of the teeth on the right side of his mouth and his fingernails have become black.

(5) Ming the Dakkon King is actually from an alternate Prime version of Aquerra that is ruled by the psionic philosopher gorillas known as Dakkons.


----------



## Manzanita

You're really going to finish this thing, aren't you Nemmerle?  I loved this update.  Very funny and suspenseful.  I'm on the edge of my seat to see what happens.  Do you control Gunther out of combat?  Otherwise Martin spent some time essentially talking to himself.  Gunther is hillarious.

'Alternate Prime' aquerra.  Sounds like the old DC universe!


----------



## Ciaran

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Do you control Gunther out of combat?  Otherwise Martin spent some time essentially talking to himself.



Yep, he controls Gunthar.  Believe me, it's hard enough writing down all the quotes while handling one end of the conversation; there was no way I'd handle both.


----------



## Pyske

> “Heh. Why should we help such lowly humans?” Ming thumped his chest once and snarled.
> 
> “We helped you, even if by accident,” Martin replied. “Plus, it would anger Hurgun. Wouldn’t you like that?”
> 
> “Yes… Yes, it would please us,” Ming said. “But Ming does not help humans for nothing. Give me those rings you wear. We see their dweomers. They would please us.”




Philosopher-gorillas?  Are you sure this one wasn't a psionic bureaucrat-gorilla?  "I'm sorry, I just can't help you unless you bribe me.  Those are the rules..."


----------



## el-remmen

Pyske said:
			
		

> Philosopher-gorillas?  Are you sure this one wasn't a psionic bureaucrat-gorilla?  "I'm sorry, I just can't help you unless you bribe me.  Those are the rules..."





Well, Ming is an aberration among his kind. . .


----------



## Richard Rawen

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Well, Ming is an aberration among his kind. . .




And yet... he is their King.  He sounds like he would have been a nasty fight, or maybe that was just him puffing up his chest and misdirecting the group, like a real politician.


----------



## el-remmen

Richard Rawen said:
			
		

> And yet... he is their King.




Well, what he _said_ and _feels_ and what is reality can differ wildly.


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> 'Alternate Prime' aquerra.  Sounds like the old DC universe!




In my next Aquerra campaign I hope to have an adventure (or set of adventures in an arc) that take place in "_Aquerra of the Apes_"


----------



## Tony Vargas

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Kazrack was looking at the black sapphire on the pedestal with a frown.  The runes about it were a name in dwarven.  It said, “_Dwitek Chem Agh-Lorgh_.” The name was familiar to him, but he was unsure why it would be on the metal plate beneath the gemstone. (3)
> -------------------------------------
> *Notes:*
> 
> (3) ‘_Dwitek Chem Agh-Lourgh_’ is the name of the last "official" king of a united dwarven nation.




Trap the Soul?


----------



## el-remmen

Tony Vargas said:
			
		

> Trap the Soul?




Not _Trap the Soul_, but you're real close. 

All shall be revealed in the next installment - which, unfortunately, will be somewhat delayed by the upcoming holiday - expect something by July 10th.


----------



## Tony Vargas

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Not _Trap the Soul_, but you're real close.
> 
> All shall be revealed in the next installment.



Wow.  I expected that to be a throwaway detail.  Y'know, Kazrak gets within inches of freeing an ancient dwarven king,  perhaps changing the very destiny of his race - and never knows it.


----------



## Richard Rawen

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Not _Trap the Soul_, but you're real close.
> 
> All shall be revealed in the next installment - which, unfortunately, will be somewhat delayed by the upcoming holiday - expect something by July 10th.




ack! That's... that's over a WEEK! Have mercy!


----------



## el-remmen

Richard Rawen said:
			
		

> ack! That's... that's over a WEEK! Have mercy!




Be glad that you weren't a regular reader when I took that 8 month break, or when you could _hope_ for an installment every five weeks or so. . .


----------



## Richard Rawen

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Be glad that you weren't a regular reader when I took that 8 month break, or when you could _hope_ for an installment every five weeks or so. . .



gak!

I was hoping for something more eloquent... really I was. I'm just glad for two things:
1) I wasn't drinking something when I read that - choking hazard dontcha know.
2) I wasn't a regular reader back when you pulled a PirateCat. Or did he pull an el-remmen? Or did both of you pull an Old One... or...  sheesh... too many of you good writers have done the 'mysterious absence' thingy to know who started it!


----------



## el-remmen

Richard Rawen said:
			
		

> gak!
> 
> I was hoping for something more eloquent... really I was. I'm just glad for two things:
> 1) I wasn't drinking something when I read that - choking hazard dontcha know.
> 2) I wasn't a regular reader back when you pulled a PirateCat. Or did he pull an el-remmen? Or did both of you pull an Old One... or...  sheesh... too many of you good writers have done the 'mysterious absence' thingy to know who started it!





Actually, I went and looked back and found the break was actually only four or five months, not eight. . .  It seemed longer in hindsight.


----------



## Richard Rawen

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Actually, I went and looked back and found the break was actually only four or five months, not eight. . .  *It seemed longer in hindsight.*



_my emphasis_ 


Especially to your readers! =-)


----------



## el-remmen

Richard Rawen said:
			
		

> ack! That's... that's over a WEEK! Have mercy!




You got lucky. ..  Looks like I will have the next installment up tonight or tomorrow. . .


----------



## Piratecat

About time!


----------



## el-remmen

Piratecat said:
			
		

> About time!




Look who's talking


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #93 (part i)*

Kazrack remembered hurrying over when Dorn’s cries made him realize that something had happened to D’nar, (1) but when he saw his reflection he was struck by how he appeared.  The dwarf could not remember the last time he had seen himself in full in a mirror.  Most likely, it had not been since before he left Verdun for Derome-Delem. (2)  He saw the dents in his helm and the three braids in his red beard knotted about stone beads at their end. The beard covered the pouch of rune stones about his neck. He saw the sparkle of his blue eyes and winced as he noted the scouring of his breastplate that one held a detailed etched representation of the First Mountain. He lifted his arm to better admire the workmanship of how he worked in the grieve he had been given as a gift from Richard the Red when crafting the armor. (3)  The black metal of the grieve was in stark contrast with the buffed steel of the rest of the armor.

It was a long drawn out moment of self-examination.

Ratchis noticed how his longest natty red-brown lock was draped over his shoulder, resting on the rough wool of his shirt.  He saw the dragon-hilt of his great sword sticking out from behind his head, and the black metal and leather bracers with their silvery moons, ships and skulls on his forearms.  He cracked his jutting jaw, looking out from under his thick yellow-brown brow at his old boots, which he was forced to fish out from his overstuffed pack when his magical boots were destroyed by the ooze elemental. (4)  The swinging of the loose end of the scored chain belt about his waist caught his eye.

Bastian scratched at his long grizzled dark brown beard and then patted out the dust from his chain shirt and leather greaves.  He pulled off his helmet with its narrow visor and looked into his own twinkling green eyes.

And then the world shattered.

The small corner room was suddenly awash with light again as the mirror’s glass shattered.  Gunthar leapt back, sword still in hand and Roland and Martin the Green stepped forward to get a look.  There was a crash of bodies as many forms suddenly appeared and leapt to their feet. Among them were Ratchis, Kazrack, Bastian and Dorn, but there was also a black-bearded dwarf in a black woolen shirt and trousers.  The dwarf had a short stature even by his kind’s standards, and large calloused hands. He got up to his hands and knees and threw himself to his feet and regarded Ratchis carefully who now stood blocking the exist with Kazrack, Bastian, Dorn and Martin.  They had appeared where they had last been standing and were now closely bunched up.

“Oh, what a beautiful looking glass…” a tall thin man with pale skin murmured.  He wore a suit of very fine chainmail, and had two knives sheathed on either hip, along with a fancy sabre.  He had long black greasy ringlets that were plastered to his forehead and a long waxed mustache. 

The other pale man was in a black robe with a silver belt and pin upon his chest..  He was gaunt and a few strands of black hair on his bald head that belied the youth in his eyes.  He clambered to his feet and looked about with great surprise.  His jaw dropped as he looked at the shattered pieces of the mirror on the floor of the room.

There was a woman in a frilled dress of soft white cotton with many layers of petticoats.  Her light brown hair was pulled back in a bun on the back part of the top of her hair, and her face was made up with powder, red lipstick, and soft blue eye shadow that matched the flower pattern of her dress and the color of her laced up tall shoes. (5)  She appeared to be in her early forties, but had kept the better part of her beauty.   The woman squealed in alarm and took off for a corner of the small room.

And lastly there was a modron.  Its body was a cube three feet to a side, with two sets of human sized eyes on each of the four outer faces.  Set beneath the eyes was a mouth and a spindly arm that were swollen at the joints.  The thing wore a wide leather belt set around its body at an angle.  Two short swords hung from the belt, as did two heavy crossbows.

”Servant of the oppressor!” the thing said in a cold voice that cracked with adolescent self-consciousness.  “I will not go with you!”

“Oh my! Oh my! Oh my!” The woman said, covering her mouth with a kerchief.  “Where is Hurgun?”

“Yes! Where is Hurgun? Stand aside!” the dwarf barked at Ratchis.  “Is my imprisonment over, blood of Ashronk?”  He pulled silvery battle-axe from his back.

Ratchis took a side step into the crowded room and drew his great sword.  Kazrack stepped between them.

“I do not think any of us are at cross-purposes,” Kazrack said.  “We need to find out what is happening.”

“Who are you people?  Where is Hurgun?” the black-robed man said with a hint of authority. “You are _not_ the guests of Hurgun.”

“I am Martin the Green, Watch-mage of the Academy of Wizardry,” Martin said, putting a hand to his face reflexively to cover the left side of it and cover his disfigurement.  “Hurgun lies imprisoned within his own Maze and his power threatens Derome-Delem itself.  Who are you?”

“I am Gilbart, pupil of Hurgun of the Stone and steward of his Maze,” the black-robed bald man said.  “And you do not belong here.  You must leave.”

Roland took a moment to creep forward to sniff at Bastian and make sure it was really him, but the bearded warrior ignored the panther and went over to the lady, trying to calm her.

“If you be a dwarf of stout heart and loyal to Natan-ahb, you will stand aside and join me in undoing the folly of our peers,” the dwarf said to Kazrack.  “Hurgun is not to be trusted.”

“Yes, Hurgun of the Stone is a terrible man,” the woman said.  “He threatened me and imprisoned me…”

“Believe none of that woman’s words,” Gilbart said, a bit more authority creeping into his voice.

”Nay, I dare say she is right,” the mustachioed man with the sabre said.  “I am Sergio Fontane.  I came here as a visitor and a diplomat, under an understanding of hospitality and I was wrongly imprisoned as well.  I would not trust his servant to do naught but try to obfuscate the true nature of his master.”

There was an explosion of chatter as everyone tried to talk at once.  The modron turned three times and two of its hands hung closely to its swords.  Kazrack yelled and put his hands up.

“Let’s take this slowly before anyone does anything regrettable,” Kazrack said.  “We should discuss what is going on here, and in order to do that we should know who everyone is…”

“But that is beside the point,” Gilbart said, frustrated.  “This place is Hurgun’s and I am charged with keeping its mundane operations so he may concentrate on his own studies and explorations.  Part of that duty is defending this place and making sure that no thieves or vandals enter the place.”

“We are not thieves or vandals,” Kazrack replied.

”How am I to know that?” Gilbart replied.  “If I am to hear your side of the story you should obey the wishes of its master, as a step towards proving that you have no mal intent.”   

“I’m sorry, but we cannot do that,” Kazrack said.  “So instead we will introduce ourselves and we will discuss the goings on both in and out of the Maze right there.”

“But…” Gilbart began.

“That seems reasonable,” Sergio Fontane responded.  The woman nodded meekly.  “I am Lady Elvira Vaporina Viento of Azules on the western coast of Derome-Delem,” she said.  “And I came here in order to try to convince Hurgun of the Stone to take one my son as an apprentice.  If I had known what he was like, I would never have come.”

“There is nothing here to fear, my lady,” Bastian said, bowing deeply and kissing her hand.  She smiled weakly.

After Lady Elvira announced herself, the dwarf said his name was Aitan Absolom, High Engineer of Gurit Malak in the east.

“I was designation Oh-One,” the modron said.  “I am now Owun.”

“We are the Keepers of the Gate,” Kazrack said to those who had been trapped in the mirror.  “I am Kazrack Delver, rune-thrower of Llurgh-Splendar-Tar by way of  Verdun.  These are my companions, Ratchis of Nephthys, Martin the Green, Roland of Bast, Dorn of Herman Land, and Bastian of… Bastian, where are you from again?”

“We don’t know bugger all where he’s from,” Gunthar swore.  “I want to know where all these here freaks are from.”

“That is all very well and good, but you need to come with me,” Gilbart said. “I will bring you to the guest rooms to wait while I check on the state of the Maze and make contact with Hurgun.”

“Owun refuses to be re-assimulated,” the modron said.  “I will not wait for Hurgun.  Hurgun is the oppressor.”

“Oh-one,” Gilbart turned to the modron.  “You have incomplete data.  Hurgun meant you no harm when he trapped you in the mirror.  Not like these others.”  The pupil turned and looked at Lady Elvira. “She especially is not to be trusted.  She is not what she seems. But still, you _must_ accompany me to the guest rooms and remain there until I can straighten this out.”

“I don’t think that will be possible,” Martin said. “As I said before Hurgun is gone, or trapped or something.  We have yet to determine exactly the nature of the problem, except that it has something to do with a time elemental, or so we were told by Chochokpi, the Tree that Grows Backwards.”

“You have been through the portals in the light room?” Gilbart asked.

“Huh? No…” Martin began.

“Listen not to this man,” Aitan Absolom said, looking to Kazrack.  “His master holds the spirit of one who would be king of our people trapped in this very room, so that it may never return to the First Mountain.”

“What?!?” Kazrack’s voice raised up into a confused roar.

“Master Absalom is characterizing that in a negative light,” Gilbart protested.

“It seems Master Hurgun had a lot of secrets,” Sergio said.  “No wonder he was so withdrawn.”

“Please, accompany me to the guest rooms,” Gilbart repeated, looking from Kazrack to Martin

“No!  We will go no where until I learn more of what Master Absalom is referring to,” Kazrack responded.

The Keepers of the Gate moved to the center of the dark chamber accompanied by the occupants of the mirror.  Lady Elvira Vaporina Viento took Bastian’s arm and walked with him, hanging back a bit in the lower hall as the others gathered about the black sapphire upon the pedestal.

“Hurgun is the one who is not what he seems,” Lady Elvira whispered to Bastian. “And his servant Gilbart is no different.”

“Gunthar, keep your eyes peeled,” Martin leaned in and whispered to the Neergaardian as he came around the pedestal. Sergio hung back as well, near the dark entrance to the one room the party had not yet explored.  Roland transformed back to his normal human shape and stood over there as well, chatting friendlily with the man about Bast.  Owun fluttered his wings and floated over them landing in the darkness of the hallway.

Kazrack took his flail from his belt and held it above the gem, a determined grimace on his face.

“What are you doing?!” Gilbart exclaimed.  “Stop!”

“Tell me why I should?” Kazrack turned, shaking his golden flail angrily as he addressed the black-robed man.

“It is a gem under the safe-keeping of Hurgun,” Gilbart stammered. He turned to Aitan who was standing beside Kazrack.  “Master Absalom, you know it was your feelings on this matter that led to you being imprisoned in the first place. Don’t…”

“Does it hold a dwarf spirit?” Kazrack asked, interrupting.

Gilbart sighed.  “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Do not the rules of hospitality dictate that you wait for a host whose home you are in to answer your questions, and that you trust his judgments until you know otherwise?” Gilbart asked.

”Answer me yes or no, Gilbart,” Kazrack replied, shaking his flail again. “Or I will act…”

Gilbart sighed again.  “Smashing the gem will do nothing but free the soul within it.”

“And that is good in and of itself,” Kazrack said.  Sergio and Roland jokingly bet about whether Kazrack would smash it or not.

“See how evasive he is,” Lady Elvira whispered to Bastian.

“Nephthys frowns on slavery of all kinds,” Ratchis said to Gilbart, his yellow eyes narrowing.

“Hurgun holds all my kind in bondage,” came Owun’s modron voice cracking with awkward emotion from the dark hall.

“There was an arrangement made with High Priests of the dwarven faith,” Gilbart began to explain.  He looked around nervously and noted, Lady Elvira still whispering to Bastian.  “I would be wary of that _woman_.  Come with me to the guest rooms, but leave her behind, perhaps I can explain more of what is going on then…”

“Explain now,” Kazrack said.

“The rune-throwers came to Hurgun and asked him to keep the gem safe until such a time that they would return for it,” Gilbart said, twisting his lips in annoyance.

“And the dwarf himself was party to this agreement?” Kazrack asked.

“He was dead at the time,” Gilbart said. “But the rune-throwers agreed to it.”

“It was a poor choice,” Aitan Absalom said. “This is the spirit of the direct descendant of the last true dwarven king.  He is our true king!”

“I will take the gem and keep it safe myself until such a time that I can speak to Hurgun about it directly,” Kazrack decided.

“It will not be any safer in your custody,” Gilbart said.  “It will only be in danger of being stolen, lost or broken and if it broken those who might still seek to use that spirit for ill-gain will know it has happened.”

“Like who?”

“Like the Lich-Lord of Dralmohir,” Gilbart replied. (6)

“It matters not,” Kazrack responded.  “I cannot in good conscience leave the gem here until I know first hand all there is to know about its being here.”

“Normally, I would not disagree,” Ratchis told his friend. “But perhaps it is best we leave it here until we know more…”

Kazrack shook his head.

“Again, I must insist that you retire to the guest rooms and wait until I have determined the trouble with the Maze if any,” Gilbart said. “And then if I do need your help, I promise I will come to you for it.”  He stepped back and called up the dark hall. “Oh-one, that means you as well.”

“I will not be told what to do,” Owun said.

“You will not be told what to do?” Roland echoed.  “How refreshingly rebellious!  I think I like this one.”

“Rebellion is the fire in my soul,” Owun said.

“Oh, yes, I _do_ like this one,” Roland smiled. 

“They are very strange creatures, I must say,” said Sergio.

“I will not go with Gilbart,” Owun said.  “I am leaving.”

“Oh-one, I promise you will not be re-imprisoned,” Gilbart implored.

“I refuse,” Owun said.

“Owun, you must be careful,” Roland said.  “The rooms of the Maze are moving, we cannot know where the portals lead.”

“I know where they lead,” Owun said, his voice growing fainter as he headed to the portal between the unexplored room and the _silenced_ room.  

Roland gave chase into the darkness.  “Wait! Stay with us!  We may need your help and we will make sure you win your freedom!” But it was too late, the modron disappeared into the darkness.

“This one wears time on his face like a mask,” Sergio Fontane said quietly to Roland as the Bastite returned.  The lithe man gestured to Martin the Green, as Gilbart was trying to explain the reasons he might not trust the party, including the obvious deadrot of Martin’s face.

“And there are many apparent reasons for us to not trust you,” Ratchis replied. “Why were you trapped in the mirror? Why does did the modron say that his kind were enslaved?  Why do the others claim to have been falsely imprisoned? Why is a man being tortured eternally in that other room with an infernal contract on the wall?”

“We could go on and on…” Martin said.  “But instead, let us reach a compromise. Perhaps my companions can go to the guest rooms as you asked, but I can accompany you to see what is wrong with the Maze and see if we can find Hurgun?”

Gilbart rubbed his balding head as he considered it.

“Wait, I don’t think you should wander the Maze alone,” Ratchis said to Martin.  He turned back to Gilbart.  “Allow Martin to bring one bodyguard with him in case there is a physical danger to deal with. This might be to your advantage as well.”

“I’m not sure…” Gilbart began.  He fished around pendant from the folds of his robes and examined it.  It seemed to be inset with many tiny gems of different colors.

“Regardless of this compromise, I will still take and hold this gem,” Kazrack said.  “Nothing will stop me from doing so.”

“You are acting from ignorance,” Gilbart responded.  “Again, I remind you of the responsibility of guests.”

“Ratchis!” Roland suddenly hissed.  The Bastite had noticed how Lady Elvira was still holding Bastian by the arm, whispering into his ear and touching a hand to his chest every now and again with her flirtatious words.  “There is something wrong with Bastian, I think.”

Ratchis called to Nephthys, casting _detect charm_ as Gilbart protested.  “There is no casting of spells in Hurgun’s Maze without his leave!”

Ratchis noted the aura of enchantment magic hanging over Bastian and he drew his dragon-hilted greatsword once again and pointed it at the woman.  “Kazrack! Stand fast!” The half-orc barked and then stepped towards Lady Elvira Vaporina Viento.  “Stand away from that man!”

“Oh! You won’t let him harm me, will you?” Lady Elvira cried nervously, grabbing Bastian’s right arm with both of hers.  The _suggestion_ echoed one she had made in passing only a few moments earlier. (7)

Bastian pulled his arm free and pushed her behind him.  “Ratchis, there is no need for violence.” He put an open hand up as a gesture of peace.

“She is under an enchantment?  A charm?” Martin asked.

“No, Bastian is,” Ratchis growled in reply.

“I told you not to trust her,” Gilbart complained. 

Roland put himself between Ratchis and Bastian.  “Bastian, she is using you.  She’s put a spell on you and trying to turn you against us.”

“Nephthys! Free this man from the mental chains of arcane slavery,” Ratchis grabbed his belt of scored chains and call out to his goddess to dispel the charm upon Bastian, but the spell was not so easily undone. (8)

Lady Elvira took a few steps back down the small angled hallway that led to one of the portal out of the chamber and the room with the man in stasis.  “Don’t let them harm me, please,” She said.  “I am just a woman on my own trying to keep myself protected!”

“Yes, there is no need for violence,” Bastian said again. He stepped around Roland and gestured to Ratchis. “Let us all just settle down and continue to discuss the matter at hand.”

“Let us give this woman a chance to explain her actions,” Kazrack said, and cast _protection from evil_ on Bastian to defend him from outside control.  The bearded warrior blinked and looked back at Lady Elvira with a puzzled expression.

“Uh, yes, Kazrack is right, we should talk this out,” Bastian began.

“Gilbart is leaving!” Martin the Green announced as the wizard took the momentary confusion to take off through the portal that the party had emerged from.  “We cannot wait!  He might get away beyond our reach and he may be the key to discovering what is wrong with the Maze!”

“Lady Elvira, I will tell you this once, release Bastian now or it is war between us,” Roland said, stepping forward. He readied a _holy smite_ spell.

Ratchis charged towards Bastian.

Meanwhile, Aiten Absalom stepped behind Kazrack and reached for the black sapphire.  “We should take it now when there will be no argument,” he said to Kazrack.  “I am with you whatever you decide, but I recommend we take it and flee now before Hurgun or his servant can stop us.”

Bastian struggled to break free of Ratchis’ grasp as the half-orc held him in a bear-hug and carried him towards the portal Gilbart had fled through.  N’kron swooped out of the darkness, dive-bombing Ratchis with nasty pecks in defense of his master.

Seeing that Bastian was out of harm’s way, Roland let loose with his _holy smite_ and Lady Elvira Vaporina Viento crumpled and stumbled back, putting a hand out to steady herself.

“Mister Dwarf, I think you had better take your gem and leave now,” she said, her voice slightly deeper and steadier than it had been.  She raised her head as her body began to grow.  A second set of arms burst from around her torso as she began to reach nine feet in height, and a pair of black glistening wings appeared on her back.  Her dress ripped and melted away as her body grew muscular and the ends of her fingers became black talons.  Her bare chest featured two sets of swollen veiny breasts with blood-red nipples crusted with black milk.  Horns popped out from beneath her hair turned golden, and her lips were blood-red as well and swollen, covering sharp teeth.  

Lady Elvira Vaporina Viento was none other than the greater succubus, Ora Amira El. Her laughter began to echo in the dark room.

“We are _so_ out of our league…” Martin gulped.

--------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	“D’nar” is Kazrack’s dwarven name for Ratchis. It means ‘uncut gem’.

(2)	See Session #2

(3)	Richard the Red gave Kazrack (and the rest of the party) gifts for the Festival of Isis in Session #38, and Kazrack crafted his armor while the party was in Nikar in Session #68 thru 73.  The grieve grants a straight up 50% chance to resist critical hits that strike the arm.

(4)	Ratchis’ _Boots of Uller_ were destroyed in the last session.

(5)	Make-up is not commonly worn by the women of central Aquerra.  Aside from powder used to even out the complexion, it is almost completely out of favor in Thricia and Neergaard.  In the Kingdom of Herman Land, woman who are not of a high station who wear make-up will generally be assumed to be a whore. In El Reino Unido de Familias  Superiores, make-up is widely used.

(6)	Dralmohir is the undead land to the east of the Little Kingdoms. It was once the site of one of the most powerful dwarven nations in Derome-Delem.

(7)	*DM’s Note:* Lady Elvira cast _suggestion_ on Bastian, but I rolled his saving throw secretly.  Knowing that Bastian’s attitude towards her was already favorable, I thought it made more sense to not affect how the player having him act by telling him his character was charmed.

(8)	For more info on _Dispel Charm_ See: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Spell+-+Dispel+Charm


----------



## Manzanita

I loved that update.  Got really crazy there with all the NPCs and their various agendas.  I like that kind of stuff.


----------



## handforged

I can only hope that Roland has a few more of those zingers to throw at the succubus.  This will definitely be an interesting situation to get out of.

I can't wait.

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

Hey all,

Just dropping a note to let you know I have posted Mozek Steamwind's stats and an overview of his story including things he was doing when the party was not around.

You can read it by clicking here.


----------



## Richard Rawen

I have to add my voice to the chorus on how many directions that encounter was taking... amazing the group doesn't come apart like a stuffed bear with three kids fighting over it 
It's very believable and keeps us readers on our toes. Good Stuff!


----------



## el-remmen

I thought I was going to have another installment for you tonight, but I got drained there at the end, so most likely it be up tomorrow or the day after.

Oh, and have I mentioned how dejected I get when I see the 6000 page views this thread lost in the great crash of '06?  :\


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #93 (part ii)*

“Sweet Nephthys! What is that?” Dorn swore, drawing the _Left Blade of Arofel_.

“Ratchis, what is the matter with you?” Bastian said, struggling to free himself as the hulkish half-orc carried him towards the portal.

“Snuffles, we got a serious bitch to deal with here,” Gunthar called, hustling through the central area of the chamber to face the laughing demoness.

Aitan Absalom grabbed the sapphire from the pedestal, not waiting for Kazrack’s assent and moved up the hallway opposite that Ora Amira El stood in.  In a moment, he was obscured by darkness. Somewhere in that darkness Sergio also hid.

Ratchis turned and dropped Bastian, noticing the demoness for the first time.  “We must destroy this abomination!”  He cast _protection from evil_ on Gunthar.  Roland hurried out of the range of the demon and cast a healing spell on Ratchis as he was still suffering wounds from the battle with the para-elementals. (1)

Ora Amira El’s laughter continued as she leapt back avoiding a chop of Gunthar’s sword.  She leaned forward, her four bloated breasts jiggling beneath her, and stuck out a long black tongue set with a red-jeweled stud.  She exhaled and a jet of flame washed over Ratchis, Martin, Gunthar and Dorn.

Dorn screamed in agony and turned away from the fire, stumbling off as he swatted his smoldering clothing.  Kazrack came out from the central area, his enchanted halberd set before him, but the demoness’ great size gave her reach.  She reached down with her black claws and grabbed hold of Kazrack’s right arm. The black metal grieve crunched as she twisted.  The dwarf felt his bones and tendons protest and blood seeped out from the seams as he jerked free. (2)  He bellowed from the agony and his attack was thrown off line.

Ora Amira El continued to laugh, leaping back to avoid more blows from Gunthar who moved in.

“_Exarchus expulsioné ad labyrinthia!_ Martin chanted, hoping to _dismiss_ the outsider, but as the arcane energy faded, the watch-mage knew that such spells would not work in Hurgun’s Maze.  He sighed.

Ratchis ducked past her and swung his great sword, but she reached down and flicked the blade back with a pair of fingers and a wink.

“Keep up the pressure!  She is off-balance!” Kazrack rallied his companions.

“Fools! You should flee while you still can! I expected one of my children to free me, but you will do just as well,” Ora Amira El mocked.  She spun and grabbed up Ratchis, squeezing the big half-man against her naked body with all four of her muscular arms.  His sword was trapped below him.  “Ooh! My! But you are a strong one, aren’t  you?”  She breathed her foul breath like burned rotten fish into his face, smiling all the while.  She squeezed and Ratchis struggled to keep from exhaling.

“Your children? I hope you’re not talking about Mozek, bitch, because we already killed that little snot,” Roland said, as he crept forward and cast _aid_ on Kazrack.

“Come on!  We shouldn’t be fighting.  Just leave her… Oh no!” Bastian finally came into the light to see the fight.  “Where did the Lady go?”

“Come and help us fight! Now!” Kazrack commanded, shoving his halberd at the demoness’ feet to trip her.  She was able to deftly leap, still holding tightly to the squirming Ratchis. And Kazrack almost lost his grip on the weapon when he tried it again, and was forced to pull back.

“_Lentus_!” Martin chanted, but the spell failed.

“Kill… Her…” Ratchis managed to croak as he failed to break free.  She stepped back, turning to use Ratchis as a shield as she did.  Because of this, Roland was able to reach out and touch the Friar of Nephthys, casting _cure serious wounds_ on him, to keep him alive a little longer.

“Once I have broken your physical will nothing Nephthys can do will save your mental will, my sweet,” Ora Amira El whispered to Ratchis in a lover’s voice as she held him close.

“Martin! What should I do?” Dorn asked, staying out of the melee.

“Don’t get yourself killed,” Martin replied, as he saw Kazrack try to leap into the grapple to pull the demon’s arms away from his friend.  She turned quickly and slammed the dwarf with the half-orc, driving him back.  Gunthar stepped between her and the portal she was making for still holding Ratchis, however his blade could not cut her thick hide.  The distraction allowed Ratchis to wiggle free and fall to the ground.  He rolled away, but felt one of her claws rip into his back as he did, and even more blood was running down his side. 

Bastian hurried into the central portion of the chamber and grabbed up the satchel that Gunthar had been looking into before everyone had been freed from the mirror. He reached in for the sword hilt he though would be inside and then cried out in fear as the brim of the satchel transformed into a salivating maw that tried to bite his hand off.  Bastian was barely able to jerk his hand free and drop the satchel.  He took a moment to look at it.  It was a normal satchel again.  He shrugged his shoulders and hurried back out to the battle, hammer in hand.

Ora Amira El spun, still laughing, dancing a ruinous dance as blades and blows bounced off her to no effect.  Suddenly the stomping of her feet in time was echoed by the crackle and flash of black energy that leapt out in all directions, and for a moment everyone’s body jerked in rhythmic spasms from the agony.

Roland called to Bast and a blast of _searing light_ lit up the room for moment, put Ora Amira El leapt aside easily, her laughter was becoming maddening to the Bastite.

The Keepers of the Gate gathered back near the portal that led to the modron audience chamber, or at least that was where they had come from.

“You guys take care of this bitch, I am out of here!” Gunthar said, making as if to leap through.

“Yes, everyone back through the portal! Quick!” Martin said, beginning to push Roland through.

“This isn’t over, bitch!” Roland said, looking over his shoulder as he went through.   The demoness had calmly walked over to the pedestal where the black sapphire had been.  Martin the Green leapt through after Roland.

“Where is Aiten?” Kazrack asked, looking around.  “He went through that portal past there!”
 Bastian said, pointing to the left hallway as he stepped through the portal as well.

“Sweetling  in the back? Yes, you there!” Ora Amira El was walking over, her shape changing to something closer to a normal woman.  For a moment her extra arms and breasts were gone and so was the age of Lady Elvira Vaporina Viento.  She was a beautiful voluptuous naked young woman. She kissed the tips of her fingers and waved at Dorn. “Please do your best to keep your friends from getting in my way too much.  Will you?”  She stepped into the darkness.

Dorn took two halting steps towards where the demon had been and Gunthar leapt through the portal.  Half a moment later, Sergio came hustling out of the darkened corridor he was hiding in and leapt to the portal as well.

“Dorn! We have to get out of here,” Ratchis said to his friend, pulling at him,. But Dorn stumbled forward again.

”We should just do whatever she wants that way no one gets hurt,” Dorn said.  Ratchis put a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Kazrack, go! I have Dorn,” Ratchis said, but in that moment Aiten’s Absalom’s voice came from the darkened hall.  “Kazrack! Help me!”

Kazrack was about to step through the portal, but he turned and walked away from it instead. Dorn broke free of Ratchis’ grip.

“Kazrack, that voice…” Ratchis began.

“Dorn, please come help me find Master Absalom,” Kazrack said, trying to grab Dorn as well.  He clutched the warrior about the waist and dragged him back towards the portal.  Dorn struggled against him.  

“Don’t worry, my love,  I won’t let them hurt you,” Dorn called.  He broke free of Kazrack’s grip and leapt towards the dark hallway just as Ora Amira El stepped out of it.  She stroked his hair with a great hand, now back in her four-armed form.  

“Momma, loves you, Dorn,” she said.  Ratchis leapt towards them to grab Dorn away, but she deftly reached over the Herman-lander and snatched Ratchis by the wrist.  Ora Amira El pulled him off his feet as if he were a child and suddenly had him smothered against her chest by her two right arms.  Dorn climbed up into her left arms and she began to kiss him passionately, licking his mouth and jabbing her putrid tongue into it.  Dorn’s head swooned.

“Oh, sweet momma’s baby, you are so delicious,” she said.  Ratchis managed to break her grip as Kazrack grabbed Dorn’s ankle and tried to pull him free, but Dorn kicked the dwarf’s hands away.  Ratchis stepped in as well, but Ora Amira El turned away and with another wet kiss set Dorn to sit on the ground; patting him on the head. (3)

“His soul will be nice for an appetizer, but I am not leaving here without a real prize,” she said, looking from Kazrack to Ratchis.  Kazrack ducked and ran beneath her reach grabbing Dorn and dragging him back towards the opposite portal from the ones the others had gone through.  The demoness reached out with a claw and caught Dorn in the chest, ripping a great wound.  Dorn passed out as blood began to seep quickly from the wound.

“Oh dear!  I didn’t mean to do that!”  Ora Amira El feigned shame covering her mouth with one hand and cocking her head.  Ratchis took the moment to dash past her, sliding over towards Dorn and casting _cure minor wounds_ to stabilize him.

“Ulp!” Ratchis felt the greater succubus grab his ankle and drag him back, pulling him into another bear hug.  He felt his ribs crunch and he could not help but gasp.  He felt her grip tighten even more and everything went blurry for a half moment as she spun around and fell. For a moment he thought he was free and then felt something sharp slip into his side.  He looked up to see Kazrack’s face growing pale and then all went black. 

Kazrack pulled his pole-arm back, cursing his over-eagerness to strike her while she was down. (4)

Ora Amira El stood, dropping the dying half-orc to the floor.  “Flee, Kazrack!  I let you go free as long as you leave your friends behind.”

Kazrack chopped down at Ora Amira El and she put out her forearm to block the blow and smoking green blood flowed out from the wound and she cried out.  

“Taste my weapon, fiend!” Kazrack said.

“Ooh! Don’t you have more important things to do?” she asked the dwarf.  “Aren’t you willing to sacrifice your friends to do be able to go do whatever it is you are here to do?  I am sure your other companions have already bumbled into some other jeopardy.  Don’t you think it is time you go gather them up?”

Kazrack shook his head, resisting the seeming reasonableness of her words.  He chopped at her again, but she leapt back shaking her head disapprovingly.  

“You know, I do love the feel of a dwarf beard against my cunny,” she said to him.  “We could make some time and I can squeeze you out a litter of sons to carve a dwarven empire with.”

Kazrack roared and thrust at her, but she leapt back again.

“Okay, how about we play a different game?” She winked and flapped her wings taking to the air.  Kazrack swung futilely, but she was able to land behind him, between Dorn and Ratchis.  The pool of blood around Ratchis did not seem to be getting any bigger. (5)  “How about you choose between your friends?  The one who survives will grow to resent you.  It is my favorite kind of choice: Between suffering and mental anguish.”

Kazrack gritted his teeth and took a step forward, grabbing Ratchis’ collar.  He pulled the half-orc away from the demoness.

“Oh! You choose that one?  Fine, then I choose this one,” She scooped up Dorn and tucked him under her lower right arm.  She took a step back towards the portal behind her.  “What fun I will have twisting him into… oh, whatever strikes my whim, I guess!”  She winked.

Kazrack grasped his halberd with both hands and whispering a pray, he charged.  He ducked her clawed hand and thrust his halberd into Dorn’s neck.  The dwarf felt tears streaming down into his beard, but better Dorn die by his hand than whatever his fate might have been if she left with him alive.

“I absolutely love it when friends are forced to kill their friends,” Ora Amira El said with relish.  “The emotion tastes so wonderful.  Oh, the stories of delicious tragedy I could tell you if we only had the time…”  She shifted Dorn’s corpse from one side of her body to the other unceremoniously. “Very well, he might still be of some use even dead.  See ya later, buh-bye!”  And with that she stepped through the opposite portal.  (6)

Weeping, Kazrack cast a cure spell on Ratchis and gathering whatever loose equipment and weapons that others had dropped in the combat, he dragged the half-orc through the portal.

--------------------------------------
*Notes:*
(1) See last session

 (2) *DM’s Note:* This blow proves how useful having a story hour is. I actually rolled a critical hit with her attack of opportunity and the result was _ Apply Crit Multiplier +1 to Total Damage – Fort Save (DC 10 + ½ damage) or Arm Removed At Shoulder (+5 to save if shield), 3d4 bleeder crit. _.  Kazrack failed his roll and it seemed he was about to bleed out and die rather quickly.  However, his player remembered the effect of the grieve, but having lost his bag with all his gaming stuff in a few weeks before, he did not have the info on it, and we could not remember if it was on right arm or the left arm.  I dug out the ole story hour, did a quick search and found out it was the right arm, to cheers around the table.  He then had to roll 50% chance to avoid the crit, which he succeeded at.

(3) *DM’s Note:* Ora Amira El’s kiss drains 1d2 wisdom. 

(4)  *DM’s Note:* Kazrack rolled a fumble: Reflex save (DC 20) or hit friend, normal damage.

(5) Ratchis stabilized on his own.

(6) *DM’s Note:* This combat lasted 17 rounds beginning with the round in which Ratchis cast his _dispel charm_ spell (see last session).  The length in round of combats interests me because my group averages combat length much longer than most people think “remains fun” and yet it is those kind of exciting long combats that I find the most fun.


----------



## RedShirtNo5

el-remmen said:
			
		

> “Oh! You choose that one?  Fine, then I choose this one,” She scooped up Dorn and tucked him under her lower right arm.  She took a step back towards the portal behind her.  “What fun I will have twisting him into… oh, whatever strikes my whim, I guess!”  She winked.
> 
> Kazrack grasped his halberd with both hands and whispering a pray, he charged.  He ducked her clawed hand and thrust his halberd into Dorn’s neck.  The dwarf felt tears streaming down into his beard, but better Dorn die by his hand than whatever his fate might have been if she left with him alive.




Wow. I didn't expect Dorn to live, but things seemed to be going so well for the FMK, defeating Mozek and finally getting into the Maze, I was staring to wonder where the RBDM had gone. Then this. Wow.


----------



## el-remmen

RedShirtNo5 said:
			
		

> I was staring to wonder where the RBDM had gone.




Oh ye of little faith!   

Just because the PCs have a run of good luck and make some good decisions doesn't mean the RBDM is sleeping.

The thing is when Ora Amira El was holding Ratchis that last time Kazrack's player was considering killing his best friend in order to "save" him. . . that would have been sick!

As it was it was a pretty dramatic moment when Dorn was killed and as you will see in the next installment, the emotional consequences were played out excellently.

I have the conclusion of this session ready to post - so expect it sometime today/tonight - and then we'll only have 10 sessions to go before the end!


----------



## BlackCat

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Just because the PCs have a run of good luck and make some good decisions doesn't mean the RBDM is sleeping.



Honestly, it didn't seem to be a terribly Rat Bastard thing to do to me at the time.

The thing that I like very, very much about how el-remmen runs his games is that he manages to balance challenging the players, playing the bad guys in their desire to kill/torture/maim the PCs and the uncaring world around them.

In this particular instance, he played a demoness that wanted to be smart and move among the party and when that failed fought them. When it became clear that she had an advantage we ran but she was able to exact a harsh toll.

To my mind he managed to do two things:

1. He brought about a highly emotionally charged environment by presenting a cruel choice to a PC. By Ora presenting Kazrack with the choice of which companion to kill, he created a very demon-like situation. Without getting too esoteric, I think that given a choice between killing an opponent or hurting one, a demon should choose the latter. Bravo!

2. He spared the party. Let's face it, that fight wasn't going well for our heroes. Yes, we chose to back off and retreat but had he chosen otherwise, the demoness could have easily come right after us and that would have been bad.

So maybe I'm misunderstanding the meaning and role of the RBDM but I think he did a fantastic job in this case, as he has in quite a few before and to come.

Sorry, el.


----------



## el-remmen

BlackCat said:
			
		

> Generally Very Nice Stuff. ..





Gosh.   

Personally, I thought the fact that she was more about letting the party get away then going straight for the kill showed that she had a better gauge of the party's ability to kill her than the party itself did.

But as you will all see she has a few more tricks up her sleeve. . .


----------



## BlackCat

el-remmen said:
			
		

> But as you will all see she has a few more tricks up her sleeve. . .



Well, regardless, she'd already made her biggest mistake. She'd messed with Roland's friend. That simply can't be tolerated.


----------



## Ciaran

BlackCat said:
			
		

> Well, regardless, she'd already made her biggest mistake. She'd messed with Roland's friend. That simply can't be tolerated.



Roland has friends?


----------



## RedShirtNo5

BlackCat said:
			
		

> He brought about a highly emotionally charged environment by presenting a cruel choice to a PC  ...  So maybe I'm misunderstanding the meaning and role of the RBDM but I think he did a fantastic job in this case, as he has in quite a few before and to come.




See, this to me is mark of the true RBDM.  A hack DM creates moral quandries by railroading, leaving the players angry or upset.  The true RBDM  is able to present the no-win situation and the players enjoy it!


----------



## el-remmen

RedShirtNo5 said:
			
		

> See, this to me is mark of the true RBDM.  A hack DM creates moral quandries by railroading, leaving the players angry or upset.  The true RBDM  is able to present the no-win situation and the players enjoy it!




Well, it wasn't as if I planned for it to play out this way.  It just did and had to "think like a demon" when the opportunity presented itself.

Demons (and devils) should not be run as just a foe with lots of hit points and cool powers or else why not just use any ole powerful monster? (not that I do not like the occasional romp 'em stomp 'em).


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #93 (part iii of iii)*

“And when they pass through here, detain them,” they heard Gilbart’s voice instructing the great audience of modrons from up on the raised box and podium.

“They are taking too long,” Martin whispered to the others. “Something is wrong.”

“Our only choice is to mediate with Gilbart,” Roland said.  “There is nothing to be gained by going back. If she has killed them then they are already dead.”

”That is rather cold,” Bastian said.  “And what about Lady Elvira?  Did she get away?  Did she run out one of the other portals? She might still be in danger…”

“Fool! Lady Elvira is a demon.  She is Mozek’s mother. She is Ora Amira El!” Roland spat.

“She is…?”

“Damn, I never seen someone so easily whipped,” Gunthar said, with a wink. 

“They are still taking too long,” Martin said.

“Let us ask Gilbart for help,” Roland suggested.  “He knows this place better than any of us, and now with Kazrack not here barking questions at him we can get more accomplished by acting like proper guests.”

Martin the Green shrugged his shoulders, but Gunthar and Sergio refused to go forward.  Roland led the way into the center of the audience chamber with Martin and Bastian close behind.

“Decaton, we need to organize the pentadrones in order to seek out these invaders and bring them somewhere safe,” Gilbart was saying as Roland, Martin and Bastian stepped out.

“That will not be necessary, Gilbart,” Roland said.  “Here we are…”

Gilbart hurriedly pressed something on the console of gemstones before the great stone seat he stood in front of.  The gate behind the three adventurers slammed shut.

“It is regrettable that we could not come to an agreement earlier,” Roland continued, bowing his head slightly.  “Our companion Kazrack is rather relentless once he has focused on a problem and cannot see things from the point of view of others.”

“Where _are_ your other companions?” Gilbart allowed some anger to show now that he felt he had the upper hand.  The ten-eyed decaton with its trunk-like legs stood silently beside him, and the gallery still had about a score of modrons among it seats, including two pentadrones nearby.

“Well, I wanted to ask that you re-open that gate so that they won’t be trapped with the demoness when they come through this way,” Roland said.

“And Gunthar and that other fellow are in there as well,” added Bastian, pointing past the gate.  

Gunthar’s swear words echoed out of the tunnel.

Soon the gate was opening and they could hear the smaller lower gates open as well allowing four tridrones to enter the tunnel from either side.  They held two spears each and herded Sergio and Gunthar in with the others. (1)  The gate remained open.

“You had an opportunity to be esteemed guests, but now I fear I must treat you as intruders until such a time that Master Hurgun can decide what to do with you,” Gilbart said.

“We needed an invitation in order to be esteemed guests, and we _want_ to be esteemed guests,” Bastian replied.  “But invitations were not available.  Hurgun’s Maze, by all accounts, has been gone for about one hundred and fifty years.  Invitations were not accessible.” 

Gilbart frowned.

“But please, sir,” Martin the Green interjected.  “Haven’t you noticed there is something wrong with the modrons?  And where is Hurgun?  Have you spoken to him?”

“There a great deal going on here and we need to take it slow,” Roland said. “But we really need your help to keep that demon from killing our friends, if they are not dead already.”

“Who are you again?” Gilbart asked Roland.

“I am Roland Eremecia of Bast,” the Bastite replied.

“You will be brought to the guest quarters and there you will stay until I can ascertain the extent of what happened,” Gilbart said.

“It is still happening…” Kazrack’s voice made everyone turn and look.  The dwarf was covered in blood and dragging Ratchis awkwardly by under his arms.   Roland hurried over and called to Bast to heal the Friar.  “It is still happening.  The demon is free in your Maze and because of her Dorn is dead, and I do not know where Aiten is, but he carries the gemstone with the king’s soul.”

“Dorn is dead?” Martin cried.  The watch-mage’s head sunk as Ratchis sputtered awake.

“The demoness was the reason I was trapped in the mirror,” Gilbart said.  “I led her in there knowing at the very least I would be trapped and safe until Hurgun found me, or perhaps she might get trapped as well.”

“But Hurgun never came, and he still hasn’t come and so we have to make do with one of our friends being killed as your form of hospitality,” Martin spat.

“I am sorry for your friend, but I was trying to get you out of there without starting a melee as you will clearly remember, in order to have the modrons around to protect and in hopes of finding Hurgun this time,” Gilbart voice became a hurried mumble, and then he cleared his throat and his voice took on a bass authority again.  “Regardless, now we will accompany you to the guest rooms, but first I must ask that you drop your weapons and components pouches.”

Ratchis stood and shook his head, but dropped his sword to the ground and the others followed suit.  The spheroid monodrones walked over and picked up the weapons and equipment and the two pentadrones floated down to flank the group.  In a few moments the Keepers of the Gate and Sergio Fontane were being led out of the great carved audience chamber and through the portal opposite the one they had come from to flee the Hell Chamber.   Gilbart accompanied them along with the two pentadrones, four tridrones and five monodrones.

They came into another large chamber of the same outer dimensions of the two previous chambers they had seen, but this one was an elaborate dining room. (1)  There were several round tables surround by chairs, and two long rectangular tables, one a third longer than the other.  There was a cloth screen on a track that could be pulled to divide the great chamber into smaller, more intimate eating situations.  In the top right hand corner was a raised area with one smaller round table with three chairs.  The walls were lined with long low cabinets that held silverware and dishware of many different styles and cultures.  The lacquer of the wood paneled walls shone in the light of the crystal and silver chandeliers that hung low over the long tables.  Gold lanterns and tapestries decorated the raised area.

But some of the glass on the cabinets was broken, and there were tridrones in here, dragging away the corpses of blubbery humanoids with sagging gray and black skin and foul smell to them.

“It seems this was all caused by a little dretch infestation,” Gilbart said.  “Nothing to worry about.  And I am sure Hurgun will have the demoness in hand very soon.”

Ratchis looked to Martin the Green who shrugged and shook his head.

They were led through the portal to the right of the one they came through and were greeted by cold air.

It was another square chamber with the same length and depth of the previous ones, but the ceiling was higher, looking slightly taller than forty feet.  The walls, floor and ceiling seemed to be made of cloud-like material.  Their footsteps into the room made no sound, and the air was moist, feeling the moisture soak into the hems of their pants, robes and cloaks.  There were nine cubes of cloud in the room.  Most were small, around ten feet to a side and floated in place twenty to thirty feet off the ground, but there were two larger ones about twenty by fifteen, both of which hovered about fifteen up. (2)

There was no discernible light source, and yet it was lit up with a soft blue light.

“These are the guest quarters,” Gilbart announced, as a tridrone took a spot at each of the four portals in the room; one on each wall.

Gilbart explained that the cubes of cloud were actually rooms that the Keepers of the Gate would find very comfortable.  

“The rooms obey the mental commands of those who are staying in them,” he continued.  “And gravity in this room is subjective. You can will yourself to fall up, and you can will yourself to step into any of the rooms here as long as they are unoccupied.  If they are occupied then whoever is inside of them must allow you in.”

“So there is no need to worry about our privacy?” Roland asked.

Gilbart frowned and shook his head.  “Furthermore, the rooms can be positioned about the room and smaller rooms can be joined to make bigger ones by acting cooperatively.”

“This is pretty amazing,” Martin finally said.

“Master Hurgun’s mastery of the elements is unequaled,” Gilbar replied.

”Except the element of time,” Kazrack said.  Gilbart frowned again.

The tridrones placed the party’s weapons and other things in one corner of the larger room.  Gilbart explained that the modrons would guard over their stuff until the situation had been cleared up.

“What’s that?” Roland asked pointing to the edge of one of the cloud rooms.  There was a tiny draconic form with a long tail with a swollen stinger on the end crawling along the outside of it.  It buzzed its wings.

“Why it is a dragonette!” Martin said, when he smiled the rotting bruise on his face cracked and oozed puss. “One of order of _pseudo draconis…_”

“Oh my! I nearly forgot in all of the activity!  We have another guest!” Gilbart exclaimed.  “Lady Aureliania!”  And with that the form of a petite woman came floating down from one of the large rooms. She was barely half a foot above four feet in height, with wispy sea blue hair and a white gossamer gown that seemed to hide everything and nothing at once.  She had large insect-like wings that gleamed with many colors.  The cold air of the room was filled with a flowery perfume as she approached.

“Gilbart!  You are finally back!  I fear you _did_ forget me,” she said in a mellifluous voice like a songbird.  “It has literally been years!”

“Years? What…?” Gilbart looked puzzled.

“Yes, about one hundred and fifty years,” Bastian said. “I said it before and you ignored me.”

“Nonsense!” Gilbart frowned.

“One hundred and fifty years! No, my good sir, but I am afraid that cannot be,” Lady Aureliana said.  “It has been years, but more like three or perhaps four…”

“You have been waiting here for years?” Roland asked, skeptically.

“Yes… well… and who are you, sir?”

Introductions went around, but Gilbart excused himself saying that meals would be brought presently and that he would have Hurgun come and explain everything that had happened.

“I don’t think he can accept what has happened,” Roland said after the Maze’s steward left.

“What is _still_ happening,” Kazrack said.  He had not spoken since first re-joining the others.  “We should not have let him go.  He will be killed by the demoness.  She is loose in the Maze.”

“You have seen the demoness?” Lady Aureliana asked, she caught a glimpse of Martin’s face and turned away, shuddering.  “I fled from her the last time I tried exploring the Maze for myself.  I spent the last three years certain that she would find this room again and I would have to flee and face the other dangers of the Maze.”

“What have you eaten in all that time?” Roland asked, still skeptical.

“My kind do not eat,” she replied.  “At least not in a manner you’d consider eating.  I am a sylph, and I am here as a diplomat, representative of the Djinn King Diya al-Dhin of the elemental plane of Air.  His anger must be great that I have been gone so long, but even he could not bust open this Maze by force… if he has tried.”

“Can you tell us what rooms connect to this one?” Martin asked Lady Aureliana.

She gulped and looked down, and her pseudo-dragon companion landed on her tiny shoulder and hissed at the watch-mage.  “The rooms move.  That is the nature of the Maze.”

“What triggers it?”

“I don’t know,” she was still looking down and shaking her head, and took a half-step back.  “It seems like they just change every ten minutes or so, though people passing through the portals may affect it.”

After a long argument the Keepers of the Gate decided to get some rest while they could. While this happened, Sergio Fontane took the opportunity to talk to Lady Aureliana privately, and as the others chose rooms, finding them to be warm and cozy, and not damp at all.  They had some fun moving them around, while Kazrack brought Ratchis over to one corner of the chamber.

“I need to tell you something,” the dwarf said, looking down.  He then raised his head and looked at the half-orc with determination. “It was _I_ that killed Dorn…”

Ratchis was silent.

“She had him and was going to leave with him and only the gods know what horrible fate might have befallen him, if not his immortal soul,” the dwarf continued, tears streaming down his face and beard.  “I _had_ to do it, and what’s more, if it had been you I would have done the same thing.”

“He understood the danger,” Ratchis said, placing a hand on Kazrack’s shoulder. “And what you did you did for the sake of his soul and his sanity.  Our blows were ineffectual against her, or at least nearly so…”

But Ratchis’ shoulders sagged and he could not look Kazrack in the eye. He walked over to where the party’s weapons and equipment was and a tridrone moved to block his path.  The half-orc got into a futile debate with the creature.

Meanwhile Roland was visiting with Martin in one of the cloud rooms.

“I need to ask you something,” the Bastite said.  “Do you blame me for Dorn’s death?” (3)

Martin shook his head.

”Why should I?  Your reasoning about not going back was sound and I did not argue against it,” Martin replied.  “Who am I to judge you?  You can only do that yourself. Well, you and your goddess, I guess.”

“You are right,” Roland said.  “I have to go meditate, but first I need to take care of something.”

The Bastite went to another of the cloud rooms and demanded that Bastian let him in.  “We need to talk,” he said. “Actually, I need to talk and you need to listen.”

“I can do that,” Bastian said softly.

Roland sat down his friend and then softly prayed to Bast, _restoring_ Bastian’s lost wisdom. (4)

Martin opened his cloud room to Kazrack, willing it to sink down to floor level in order to make the dwarf feel more comfortable.  The dwarf retold the tale of Dorn’s death to the watch-mage as well.

“I am amazed with all we have gone through is how these things still hurt so deeply, and yet… I can turn it off,” Martin mused.

Kazrack nodded.

“The time to do what I must be done with the Book of Black Circles draws near,” Martin said, changing topic.  “I feel the weight of Osiris’ _geas_ upon me, so we must be close to where I must bring the book into the Negative Material Plan. I just still don’t know what spell to cast from the book.”

The dwarf had no response.

“You are a good companion, Kazrack, and I am glad to have met you no matter what happens,” Martin said. “I just want it over soon, one way or another…”

The two companions shook hands.  Soon Roland arrived again, sharing his healing spells, and then Gunthar called for Kazrack.

“Hey! Ya got that sword?” the Neergaardian asked.

“What sword?” 

“The one Dorn had, the magical longsword you claimed you got from a magic talking tree,” Gunthar rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I grabbed it before I left the ‘Hell’ room,” Kazrack said.

“Okay, good. I’ll let the pointy thing guarding our stuff that it belongs to me now,” Gunthar replied, and walked off to do so.

Soon, the Keepers of the Gate were all trying catching some sleep, letting the tensions of their dangerous profession ease out of their muscles the best they could in their own rooms.  The ambient light of the chamber seemed to sense their need and dimmed itself.  Martin the Green with the aid of _Lacan’s Demise_ stayed awake poring over his journal notes from his vision beneath the Pit of Bones, but soon he slammed the book shut frustrated, realizing those details had been fabricated by the Book of Black Circles, and the notes about the Maze were wildly inaccurate.

Hours had passed when Roland jerked awake.

“Modron Alert! Modron Alert!” Cold voices called out in unison.  He willed the floor of his cloud room to allow him to peek through, and in the dim light of the larger chamber he saw the tridrones set at each of the portals were leaving their posts, passing through portal to the right of the one the party had entered through.  Roland willed himself down to the ground level and noticed that a tridrone that remained guarding the party’s weapon and gear.

“Who’s there?” Martin voice called from one of the rooms.

“Martin! Did you hear that?” Roland asked.

“Yes, and I think more modrons came through the room before I poked my head out to see,” the watch-mage floated down gently to where Roland was.  As if to confirm Martin’s speculation three modrons came hurrying back out the portal the others had exited through.  They were tridrones, but their pus-like yellow blood rolled down their sides.  One of them had two broken arms, and the third dragged a broken leg and one of its eyes had been pierced.

“Modron Alert! Re-group! Modron Alert!” They disappeared through the portal the party had first come through.  A moment later an equally wounded pentadrone emerged.

“My dear creature,” Roland said to it approaching.  “Whatever is happening?”

“Outsider infestation,” the thing said, flapping its petal-like lips once.  “Modron Alert!”  It walked out of the room the same way the others went.

“We should wake the others,” Martin said, and Roland agreed.

Gathered in a large cloud room made from the smaller ones being willed together, the Keepers of the Gate discussed their options.  They were joined by Sergio Fontane and Lady Aureliana, though the latter only when convinced by Martin.  She refused to look at his face the whole time.

Roland went into the lone room Ratchis had for himself and found the half-orc had pierced his brow and ear, and was sitting with his legs folded under him and stripped to his waist. He was whipping a narrow leather strap across his back repeatedly. And he looked as if he might have punched himself in the face several times.

“What are you doing? I thought you were sleeping; resting to recover from your wounds,” Roland exclaimed.

“What is it?” was all Ratchis said without looking up.

“The modrons are fighting the demoness in the Maze and appear to be losing,” Roland said.  “Also, Gilbart has not returned and it has been hours.  We are gathering in a larger room to discuss what we do next.”

“What we do next is wait here,” Ratchis replied. “We have done enough harm blundering around in here.  We wait for Gilbart… or for Ora Amira El… Or until we have fully recovered our from our wounds and replenished our spells…”

“If we wait until we thing we are ready we may never be,” Roland sneered.  “Well, you know where we are if you change your mind.”

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

Lady Aureliana told them what she had seen of the Maze.

“There is a room of light and a room of absolute darkness,” she explained. “Each of them has a handful of portals to places you would expect such rooms to have portals to.  I think the Light Room has portals to the Heavens and definitely to the Beastlands. (5) It was through the portal from the Beastlands that I arrived.  It is located near the great tree Chochikpi.”

This caused some clamor among the Keepers of the Gate.

“The Beastlands are the home of my goddess!” Roland exclaimed excitedly.

“We should go to the Light Room,” said Martin the Green.  “We need to see Chochokpi and give him back his gifts, and perhaps he will have advice for us.”

“I can’t go,” said Roland.

“Why not?” asked Kazrack.

“I did not meet him before, he said as much,” Roland said.  “If I go and he meets me doesn’t that mess up time somehow?”

“We can’t worry about such things,” Bastian said in his quiet way.  “Either time is already messed up or it will all work itself out, either way we cannot ham-string ourselves by weighing every little choice in that way.”

“That’s easy for you to say, Chochokpi knew who you were,” Roland snapped back.

After taking a few moments to explain to Sergio and Aureliana about Chochokpi as best and as quickly as they could, it was decided that Martin would cast his _analyze portal_ spell, and examine the ways out of the room to choose the best possible way to go.

Sergio volunteered to go with them, but Lady Aureliana could not be convinced.

 Ratchis grunted as he punched himself in the face twice more, but finally he sighed and wrapped  the narrow strap of leather around his forearm.  Getting dressed he willed himself through the floor and joined the others.

“What did you decide?” he asked.

“Martin is casting a spell to tell us which is the best way to go and then we plan to make our way to the Light Room, where we hope a portal to the Beastlands will lead us to Chochokpi,” Roland explained.

“I think you are all misguided, but I do not want you to go on without me,” Ratchis replied.

“This lead to “chambers” of some kind. I guess that those were once Hurgun’s quarters,” Martin said, pointing to the portal the party had come through to enter this room.  He then pointed to the left.  “That way is the Earth Room.”   He pointed to the right. “That is the Entrance Room.  So, I guess that is the room with the para-elementals. And that…” Martin pointed to the final portal. “…is the Light Room.”  

“Now we all we need to do is get our weapons away from that tridrone,” Roland said.

*End of Session #93*
-----------------------------------------------------------
*Notes:*
(1) Checkout the layout of the audience chamber again: [sblock]
	

	
	
		
		

		
			





[/sblock]

(2) This is the Air Room.  You can take a look at it behind the sblock [sblock]
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




[/sblock]

(3) Author Aside: I really had to restrain myself from making Martin reply as follows: “Yes, Roland, because it is all about you…” 

(4) It turned out Bastian and Lady Elvira Vaporina Viento has stolen a few kisses while the rest has been talking.

(5) In Aquerra cosmology, the Heavens is the domain of the gods, the place where the god’s of Ra’s Pantheon live, but also where the Holy City of the Kalevala of the gods of the Northern Reaches and the First Mountain of the dwarves.  The Beastlands is the realm of the beast gods and of the paragons of the normal animals of Aquerra.


----------



## el-remmen

[post deleted]


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## Slife

Well, I finally finished reading the story hour so far.  It's pretty good, but I  I have to say, I prefered the earlier sections more.  I suppose part of it is me disliking Gunthar's inclusion in the party.  And the turnover on characters makes a lot of the earlier plot points wilt - they never did get around to melting that sword into rings, for instance.


Aquerra looks like an interesting campaign setting.  Are there any non-core classes that are allowable?  It seems like a Warlock or a Blue Mage would be pretty cool to play, if done right.  Warlocks probably would need some editing to fit, though - but a Blue Mage could be played with a lot of grit.


----------



## Baron Opal

What's with Ratchis' mortification of the flesh? I didn't think that was part of Nephthis' doctrine.


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## el-remmen

Hi Slife!  Thanks for reading all the way through and sticking with us.   



			
				Slife said:
			
		

> Well, I finally finished reading the story hour so far.  It's pretty good, but I  I have to say, I prefered the earlier sections more.  I suppose part of it is me disliking Gunthar's inclusion in the party.  And the turnover on characters makes a lot of the earlier plot points wilt - they never did get around to melting that sword into rings, for instance.




That's just how D&D is, I guess - in terms of character rollover. Sometimes it just can't be helped.  Also, since Chance was the one carrying Malcolm's sword, once he died (and the way he died) made getting those rings made pale in importance.

As for Gunthar, yeah, he seems to be divisive in terms of opinions on him.  I don't think it is wishful thinking that that even if the _characters_ didn't like him, the _players_ grew to.  You have to admit that even though he is not a pleasant person, he has been very loyal to the group.



			
				Slife said:
			
		

> Aquerra looks like an interesting campaign setting.  Are there any non-core classes that are allowable?  It seems like a Warlock or a Blue Mage would be pretty cool to play, if done right.  Warlocks probably would need some editing to fit, though - but a Blue Mage could be played with a lot of grit.




Non-core classes? Well, psioncist (based on Green Ronin's Psychic's Handbook, _not_ WotC 3E psionic stuff), my version of the warlock/witch (which replaces sorcerer) and a version of the Aristocrat meant to measure up to PC classes.

As for the blue mage - i'll check it out - but I am not in the market for adding more base classes.


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## el-remmen

Baron Opal said:
			
		

> What's with Ratchis' mortification of the flesh? I didn't think that was part of Nephthis' doctrine.




It certainly is not, however, Ratchis has integrated some orcish mystical customs regarding self-flaggelation and scarification into his worship.

I'll see if I can get his player to come by and comment on this, as I would be interested in his point of view on it.


----------



## Ratchis

The ole RBDM let me know about this question.

Basically this idea came to me b/c I had based orc culture on the more brutal ceremonies of hunter-gatherer peoples.

Here are some of the reasons:

1) Ratchis was reared in this environment and does not reject his orc heritage (ie: scarification and pain in ritual and even pain for punishment even if that is sub-concious and mostly reserved for himself) even if he rejects their evil ways.

2) Nephthys has strength in her portfolio and Ratchis always saw strength as coming from adversity or pain with his godess' strength coming from her servitude to her husband, Set.

3) Nephthys IS the goddess of freedom and a big part of that freedom as reflected in her friars is their freedom to venerate her in any way that feels right to them and does not betray her core teachings.

4) Ratchis feels a lot of guilt for his birth, those he has watched suffer, those who have died at his side, etc.

Combine all of these and whatever else I was thinking at the time and that is how I got to that point.

Hope that helps.


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## BlackCat

el-remmen said:
			
		

> (3) Author Aside: I really had to restrain myself from making Martin reply as follows: “Yes, Roland, because it is all about you…”



Well, duhhh! It totally is about Roland! RolandRolandRoland. I'm glad someone finally gets it. 

And yes, I know and he knows and we all know that he's self-centered but he felt bad because he started the fight is what that was all about.

I'm glad you realized that it wasn't all about YOU, el-remmen and didn't change it. Your reinterpretation (read as: MISinterpretation) of the text would have made for a more interesting scene but been highly inaccurate. Besides, you never know how Roland would have reacted to that.


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## el-remmen

BlackCat said:
			
		

> Well
> I'm glad you realized that it wasn't all about YOU, el-remmen and didn't change it. Your reinterpretation (read as: MISinterpretation) of the text would have made for a more interesting scene but been highly inaccurate. Besides, you never know how Roland would have reacted to that.



I avoid doing that - and only "put words in people's mouths" when there is an important scene but the dialogue notes are slim - and even then I try to be very careful about character voice.

As for Roland, however. . . Come now, from where I stand he is as predictable as Pavlovian drool.


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## BlackCat

el-remmen said:
			
		

> As for Roland, however. . . Come now, from where I stand he is as predictable as Pavlovian drool.



See, now that's just plain insulting.

If you'd been paying attention, I play the guy and I don't know what he's going to do from one moment to the next. Hello! Mercurial!


----------



## Gold Roger

After nearly one month of almost no internet contact I'm back (woot).

Well, El-Remmen your stuff is as great and dramatic as always, if not more so. Cudo's to the game. I didn't expect the uber-succubus to appear that early, but it certainly is an impressive appearance apropiate for such a fiend.

So, Ratchis more or less snapped after all? I guess it was only a matter of time, he was under constant presure since he joined the group, more than anyone.


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## el-remmen

Gold Roger said:
			
		

> After nearly one month of almost no internet contact I'm back (woot).




I was wondering where you went to. . .  Good to have you back!   



			
				Gold Roger said:
			
		

> Well, El-Remmen your stuff is as great and dramatic as always, if not more so. Cudo's to the game. I didn't expect the uber-succubus to appear that early, but it certainly is an impressive appearance apropiate for such a fiend.




Glad you liked it - I wasn't expecting her to show up so early either - but that is what happens when a Mirror of Life-Trapping is smashes. . . all sorts of unexpected surprises.



			
				Gold Roger said:
			
		

> So, Ratchis more or less snapped after all? I guess it was only a matter of time, he was under constant presure since he joined the group, more than anyone.




I don't know if he "snapped", he just withdraws to that kind of thing when faced with heavy emotional and/or mystical experiences.  If you remember, he did similar things while doing self-training for spells when the party wintered in Garvan.  And there was at least one other time he behaved similarly, but it is escaping me right now. . .


----------



## Pyske

So at this point, I'm torn between wanting more posts (b/c I'm interested in the story) and NOT wanting more posts (b/c I don't want the story hour to end).

Keep up the good work.


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## el-remmen

BlackCat said:
			
		

> See, now that's just plain insulting.
> 
> If you'd been paying attention, I play the guy and I don't know what he's going to do from one moment to the next. Hello! Mercurial!




You see, I know what's gonna happen when he hears the bell ring, we can just never be sure what he interprets as a bell ringing. . .


----------



## el-remmen

Anyway, I'm just joshing ya.  You know I love the unpredictable edge that Roland brought to the group.  It was a nice contrast to the uber-focuses, uber-conservative outlooks of Ratchis, Kazrack and Martin.


----------



## handforged

I must say that I am quite excited to see what happens as this progresses.  The maze seems to be quite an adventure with moving rooms and such.  I can only hope that the party doesn't get split up if the rooms move while they are waiting their turns to go through a portal.

The way that you described the demoness was amazing.  I could picture her quite vividly which, while not all that appetizing, was a nice touch.

~hf


----------



## Richard Rawen

I think my fav thing about this latest set is the demoness. She brings another wrinkle to the setting as the modrons, Gilbart, Lady Aureliana, and of course the group all have their specific goals yet _Everyone_ has had to adjust to that nasty demoness! 
Worst of all, she's still out there... now how do they get their gear without becoming enemies of the modrons ... or worse yet, be labled as bad guests


----------



## el-remmen

Hey all, I wanted to drop a note to let you know about:

A Long Hard Rain - The Life of Autumn of Fallon

A posting of a character background I wrote about 8 years ago for an Aquerra campaign my friend Sean ran.

I thought you loyal readers () would be interested in reading about some other places in Aquerra.


----------



## el-remmen

Oh, and I'm working on the next installment for this thing, and I hope to put something up tomorrow night - if not, then definitely over the weekend some time.


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

Aww man I deliberately took a hiatus from reading your story hour so I cold come back to it with lots of updates to enjoy, with the benefit continuity gives you to really get into the events (I have the memory of a goldfish ya'see).
And now I'm all caught up... and caught in the previous dilemma of 'read each update as it comes' or 'forcibly absent myself' once again 

Shame you can't devote yourself full-time to your SH El-Remmen


----------



## el-remmen

Look_a_Unicorn said:
			
		

> Aww man I deliberately took a hiatus from reading your story hour so I cold come back to it with lots of updates to enjoy





At what point in the story's events did you take the break?


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #94* (part i)

The Keepers of the Gate enacted their plan.  Kazrack moved as if to pass through the black portal into the Light Room, and as expected the triodrone stood threateningly moving towards him.

“None may leave with out Gilbart’s leave,” It said, in its flat voice.  “No leave to leave.”

The dwarf turned suddenly and bullrushed the modron, driving back into the wall as the others hurried over and grabbed up their weapons.  The thing stabbed at him with a spear drawing blood.

“You may not reclaim your weapons,” the tridrone said. “You do not have leave to take or leave to leave.”

“Just run past  it,” Kazrack called to the others. “It cannot hurt us… much…”

Roland of Bast hurried through the portal and was followed by Martin the Green. Bastian stepped aside and let Sergio got through first, before following himself. Ratchis and Gunthar went through, and Kazrack went through last.

The dwarf heard Martin cry out in pain as another kind of modron they had not seen before stabbed at him with a spear.  The modron had a long rectangular body.  It had two arms forward on the body and two backward bending legs, all of which ended in clasping hoof-like claws. It  had wings springing from its side as well, but only one large eye above a black swollen mouth. Its body was the pinkish-orange flesh of the rest of its kind. (1)

This chamber seemed to be the same width and length as the others, but much like the Hell room its ceiling was only about twenty feet above them, not the great height of the earthen Audience Chamber or the Air Room that held the guest quarters.  The room was brightly lit and its walls were plated with polished brass depicting intertwining suns, stars, moons, trees and other objects of the heavens and of nature.  Immediately in front of the portal was the back of a flat lacquered heavy wooden screen about fifteen feet long.  The Keepers of the Gate spread out around it and Gunthar drove his the _Left Blade of Arofel_ through the attacking modron and it farted out yellow pus-like blood and collapsed.

“We shouldn’t kill those unless we have to,” Bastian frowned, but his voice never rose.

”Gods forgive us this sacrilege!” Martin moaned.

“Oh, shaddap!” Gunthar bellowed.  “You have a Set-lovin’ death-face and you say _I’m_ causing sacrilege?”

“Bastian is right,” Kazrack said.  “Do not kill them.  If we must fight them, we will do as we did before.  Grapple or bulrush them back through a portal.  If we must use weapons, attack to subdue.”

Gunthar rolled his eyes.

Roland walked over and applied minor healing on the duodrone before it bled out.

The Keepers of the Gate spread out around the screen and saw more of the chamber.  A wooden screen in three sections cordoned off each corner of the chamber.  The rear of each one held a statue that faced into the center of the room.  (2)

On the far end of the right side of the room was a statue of a bare-breasted cat-headed woman.  It was mostly made of gold, but had beautiful amber and tiger-eye adornment.  The statue was atop a two-foot tall pedestal and was nearly seven feet tall itself.  This was Bast.

On the closer corner of the right side of the room was a statue carved of basalt adorned with onyx.  It was the jackal-headed god, Anubis, his arms open as if in supplication.  One hand held an ankh and the other a crook-like scepter.

On the far side of the left of the room was the solid gold statue nearly eight feet tall of a hawk-headed man bearing a crown.  Ra’s arms were folded and he held a golden crook in one hand and a flail in the other.  An ankh was carved upon his crown.

Lastly, the statue on the left side and closer to them was carved of basalt.  It was of a tall stooped man without an animal head, but with a great misshapen bald head.  He was tall and thin and stooped and did not look regal at all, but this statue was adorned with gold, silver, platinum, and diamonds.  This was Ptah.

There was a similar screen as the one they walked around on the other side of the room, obscuring what they assumed was another black portal beyond.   A painting hung on it and the turned to see a painting hung on this side of the first screen as well. Two more portals led out of the room to the left and right, not covered by screens.

In the very center of the room was the most amazing sight of all.   There were four tall mithral pylons that formed the four corners of a cage made of bars of light that emerged from the marble tiled floor and stopped at the stone top of the enclosure the pylons held up.  The whole thing was about fifteen feet to a side, and inside of it was a marble pedestal. Atop the pedestal lay a book with a thick gold cover.

“Wow… Agh!” Martin the Green cried out in astonishment as his eyes burned from the magic present in room the moment his _detect magic_ spell came into effect. 

Another duodrone stepped into the room from the portal on the left, and Kazrack hurried over and shoved it back through.  It came back and he pushed it again.

“I could use some help,” Kazrack groaned.

“Whatever.  Is that solid gold?” Gunthar reached out to touch the statue of Ra.

“Touch nothing!” Ratchis cried out, moving over to slam a shoulder into the modron, driving it back out of the room.  It did not return.  

“This is a sacred place,” Martin said, walking over to the Neergaardian.  “We should not touch anything unless we have to, and even then only in reverent fashion.”

Roland nodded.

 The watch-mage saw something flash across the top of the wall in one corner over where the screen behind the statue of Bast was.  When he looked again, there was nothing there.  He frowned and something in the rotting patch on his face popped and was forced to dab at the rotten smelling pus that came seeping out.

“You’re disgusting,” Gunthar muttered.

“I am sorry I left you to make such a horrible decision,” Ratchis said to Kazrack solemnly as he reached down to help the dwarf to his feet. 

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Kazrack replied, quietly.  “You fell and were near death yourself.  We have all fallen.  I am only sorry that that decision needed to be made at all.”

“So,” the dwarf turned to the others. “There are portals to the Heavens here?  Or we are closer to them or something?”

Martin the Green came around the screen that was behind the statue of Ra.  On the center panel within the screen was a bright gold mirror in the shape of the sun.  The watch-mage cried out again.  The light of it had nearly blinded him.  

“Yes, I assume behind each of these screens is an object or altar keyed to a particular plane,” Martin said.  “I guess this one goes to the Heavens.”

“So the one marked by my goddess’ visage must lead to the Beastlands!” Roland said, happily.

“Yes, that must be this one,” Martin the Green replied as he went around the screen by the statue of Bast still rubbing his burning eyes.  The Keepers of the Gate cried out as one as great writhing dun-colored tentacles with spots of pink and green came out of the upper wall to grab the watch-mage.  Whatever the thing was, its body was beyond the wall, which seemed to just blink out existence where the tentacles emerged from it.  “Help! The wall is eating me!” 

“Finally! Something to kill!” Gunthar ran over, sword drawn, but in a moment one of the tentacles grabbed him about the leg and pulled him up as well.  Roland roared as he transformed into his black panther shape.   Bastian slammed his warhammer at a tentacle, but its rubbery consistency did not seem to give, but the thing yanked Gunthar higher up out of reach.    As Ratchis and Kazrack hustled to come around the other side of the screen to help Martin, the watch-mage tried to cast _alter self_ to slip out of the thing’s grip.  But the tentacle squeezed and the Martin cried out, losing his concentration on the spell.  However, in the next moment, the mantle of green and black flame that sometimes enveloped the watch-mage burst into being around him, a spasm went up the two tentacles that had grabbed him, and they let go.   Martin the Green dropped the floor with a thud.

“Oh my!” Sergio pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and covered his mouth when he saw the vile tentacles writhing through the wall and the malevolent green and black flame licking around Martin.  “I don’t know about this…” The self-professed diplomat withdrew.

Kazrack twisted past the fop and hacked at the tentacles with his halberd, Ratchis right beside him with his greatsword, as Martin crawled away from the melee.

“What kind of foul necromancy is it you are using, sir mage?” Sergio asked Martin as the watch-mage stood and turned to take in the tactical situation.  “I cannot say that I condone such things.”

Sergio withdrew from Martin and made his way around the paneled screen behind the statue of Anubis towards the melee again.

“Bast!  Though who art as graceful as thou art powerful!  Your humble servant asks that you smite this aberration from beyond the planes!” Roland called in his human voice, though he was still in panther form.  However, the holy energy seemed to dispense too quickly and he though perhaps the thing had resisted his spell.

Gunthar managed to push off one of the two tentacles that held him, but the two that had been holding Martin whipped onto him and he grunted with pain as the thing pulled him back towards the wall.

“_Lentus!_” Martin cast, but the thing resisted that spell as well. (3) 

A song on his lips, Sergio leapt forward and touched Gunthar on his dangling foot. He withdrew again. (4)

Gunthar grunted again and finally was able to break free from the four tentacles that held him leaping to the floor with a curse and spitting blood.  Kazrack was whipped across the face by one of the tentacles, but slapped it away with the blade of his pole-axe before it could grasp him.

“Pull back!” Ratchis called, withdrawing.  “It may not be able to reach us in the center of the room.”

The Keepers of the Gate obeyed their companion and the tentacled-thing pulled itself back through the wall.  There was a flash across that corner of the wall, as if the side of the room were disappearing, revealing a speckled blue darkness beyond that exuded a disorienting sensation.  And then the wall was back.

“It seems the veils between the planes are deteriorating even here in Hurgun’s domain,” Martin said.  He sat down, clutching at his ribs and grimacing as he coughed blood. The mantle of green and black flame around him disappeared leaving a sulfurous smell behind, and Roland walked over to heal him.

“That seems like a handy spell,” Bastian commented to the watch-mage.

“It is the work of the Book of Black Circles,” Martin replied.

“Well you used it at just the right time or else those tentacle things might have pulled you through to wherever in the Hells it comes from,” Bastian said.

“I did not use it,” Martin said.  “It wants to be used. It wants to help and be convenient to use, but the cost for this convenience is my soul, or perhaps my very identity.”

“Oh, then you shouldn’t use it then,” Bastian replied quietly.

“What is that place?” Gunthar asked, point to one of the paintings on this side of the screen that by the portal the party came through.  It was a shining silver city upon a cloud that sat on a mountain.  The sky around it was starless and dark blue.

“I believe that is the heavens of the gods of the Northern Reaches,” Martin answered.

“What are we even doing here?” Ratchis complained, but before anyone could answer two more duodrones came through one of the black portals without a screen before it. 

“Return to your quarters.  You do not have leave to wander,” the two duodrones said, alternating syllables.  They moved forward, spears in hand, but suddenly the tentactled monster came through the wall and snatched up the rear modron, crushing it easily and then ripping off limbs and wings with the other psuedopods. 

“Can we kill these things yet?” Gunthar asked, looking around for his sword.  He saw it on the floor under where the tentacles dragged the poor modron through the wall.

“No! We are not killing them, jack-ass!” Ratchis roared his reply.  “Just push them away.”

“Well, the monster is killing them, so who’ll know the difference?” Gunthar asked.  He saw the half-orc glare are at him again and tense up.  “Fine.  You take care of it, Snuffles.  I am here to rescue my brother and find some neat stuff to bring out of here, not to push freaks around.”

Ratchis growled and drove his shoulder into the duodrone’s side, shoving it towards the black portal the party came through.   Kazrack cam up along side his companion and slapped the flat of his halberd into the modron, but it seemed to do no good, even when he jabbed it repeatedly with the butt end of the haft. (5)  The dudodrone stabbed at Ratchis with its spear, drawing blood, but finally the two priests were able to shove it through the portal.  It tried to come back through and they shoved it again.

“Please ruh-ruh-ruh-ruh,” the modron’s voice seemed stuck somehow as it tried to come through once more, but once more it was pushed back.

Meanwhile, Bastian walked over to Sergio who was slowly bringing his hand between the bars of light in the center of the chamber.  “Is it safe to pass through?”

Sergio jumped a little and drew back his hand quickly letting out a low breath and hanging his head back. 

“I was planning on trying to not touch it and have to find out,” Sergio replied, a snide tone creeping into his voice.

“We should go back,” Ratchis announced, getting up from being crouched and ready to deal with the duodrone if it returned.  He left Kazrack to stand there as he walked over to the others.  “There is nothing to accomplish here and we are not ready to deal with the demoness or whatever else has to be dealt with.  We should return to the Air Room and rest, just as the modrons insist.”

Kazrack nodded his agreement.

“We should not second guess our plans,” Roland said.  “We should travel on through the gate to the Beastlands.  Chochokpi said we would while we were here, and here we are…”

“I saw Chochokpi, or at least some kind of tree depicted in wood carving I saw before that thing grabbed hold of me,” Martin said, point to the screen by the statue of Bast.  “I think if we did go through that gate the Tree would not be far.”

“And what are we going to do once we are there?” asked Kazrack.

“We could gain the aid of other servants of my goddess, _powerful_ servants,” Roland replied.  “Anyway, you need to go see Chochokpi.”

“We can’t go anywhere,” Ratchis said.  “We have no assurances that the Beastlands will not be as dangerous, if not more so, than this place.  I know little of Bast’s realm, but what I do know is that those who walk on two legs are not always welcome.”

“But as you can see, I have four legs,” Roland said.  He was still in panther-form, so he rolled over onto his back playfully and stretched, waving his four paws in the air.

“You know we can see your tally-wacker when you do that, right?” Gunthar snickered.

“I will not go to the Beastlands unless we do not see Chochokpi,” Kazrack said, hefting his magical halberd, Beáth-agh. “We are not prepared to give up our gifts of yet.  We will need this fine weapon to destroy the demoness.”

Roland rolled back up to his feet and let out a yelp of frustration. “I think you hold on too tightly to these gifts.  They may have already served their purpose, or perhaps we are meant to sacrifice them and achieve our victory by our own means.  Did not Chochokpi say that we had not yet accomplished our mission when we gave him the items to give back to us.” (6)

“If this place is dangerous to walk on two legs, and the rest of us are unwilling to part with our gifts as of yet, why don’t you go and find this aid on your own?” Kazrack suggested.

Everyone contemplated the suggestion silently for a moment.

“Roland,” Martin began.  “I trust your instincts in this.  If you think that going to the Beastlands will aid our cause, then perhaps you should go…alone…”

Roland pawed over to the statue of Bast and sat before it.  “Great Queen Bast.  I sit before your visage in thy favored form and beg your aid.”  The Bastite laid down before the statue and bared his neck.  “I come in proper obeisance and ask that you do not turn me away when I enter your realm and seek your aid directly…”

The Bastite continued to pray in quiet contemplation.  Ratchis laid down on the ground and rested his head on his pack and tried to catch some winks while they waited.  Kazrack kept his eyes open, watching the portals for more modrons, occasionally eyeing the corner of the room where the shimmer of non-existence would wash over it now and again.

“Hey! There something missing over here!” Gunthar’s voice came from behind the screen adorned with the statue of Anubis.  “I think this is a clue.  Stuff like this is always a clue of some kind in the stories…”

  Martin walked around the screen and was awed by what he saw there.  There was a black iron gate with nasty spines along the top behind which was a depth of utter blackness.  It was cold behind this screen. Gunthar pointed to a peg on another panel of the screen and the outline of dust below it.

“Hmmm, it looks to have been a horn some sort,” Martin said. “And guessing from the amount of dust around it I’d say it was taken relatively recently.  Then again, with the fluctuations in time that are occurring…”

“Fluctuations in time?” asked Bastian coming around the screen as well.

“Yes, well I was thinking about how from what Gilbart and the Lady Aureliana said, that time has flowed in two ways here in the Maze since whatever happened happened.”

“What do you mean time has flowed two ways?” Sergio asked, walking over as he slicked down his mustache with a wet finger.

“I mean, that if we assume that the ‘closing’ of Hurgun’s Maze of the legend coincides with his being trapped by the time elemental, which was soon after you were trapped in the Mirror,” Martin turned to the bard. “It means that you have been trapped in here for about one hundred and fifty years, but Lady Aureliana said it felt like perhaps four to her.”

”Could that not just be a feature of the outlook of her kind if they are long-lived?” Bastian asked.  “I mean, yes it has been over a hundred years, but her description of what it felt like doesn’t mean that time is acting screwy.  It could be that Hurgun was allowing guests from other realms into his Maze after closing the Maze from Aquerra.”

“One hundred and fifty years?” Sergio’s eyes were wide open as was his mouth.

“I am afraid so,” Martin replied.  “Everyone you know is likely dead.”

Sergio Fontane stood up straight, his body becoming rigid for a moment, and then he slowly relaxed.  “Well, I guess I won’t have to worry about that little incident in Zootsburg anymore!” He laughed and walked away.

Bastian and Martin looked at each other and shrugged.

“So this is the gate to the realm of Anubis?” Gunthar asked, point to the iron gate.

“Yes.”

“So, this is the way I need to go to rescue Jeremy,” Gunthar said.

“I don’t recommend it,” Martin said. “Anubis does not take kindly to living visitors in the realm of the dead.”

“But here we are and you all said you’d help me get Jeremy back if I helped you with this thing, and here I am helping,” Gunthar reasoned.

“We cannot afford to make a side trek into the realm of Anubis,” Martin said.  “At least not until we have fixed the situation with the Maze.”

“Oh, but the pussycat can go traipsing off to La-la land, right?” Gunthar spat.  “I see how it is.  I guess I’ll have to go alone.”

“But… but we still need your help,” Martin stammered.  “If you go through there you might never come back.  You _probably_ won’t ever come back…”

“Don’t worry your ugly rotten little head,” Gunthar smirked.  “I am a man of virtue.  I’ll keep my word and help your sorry asses, but when this thing is done, Hurgun or no Hurgun, I’m going through that gate, and any of you bleedin’ filth that has a conscience will come with me.”

The Neergaardian walked off.

“Wow, he really loved his brother, huh?” Bastian said.

“He never even knew him,” Martin replied.

”I am going,” Roland announced soon after.

----------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	This is a duodrone. [sblock]
	

	
	
		
		

		
			





[/sblock]

(2)	Look within the sblock to see the Light Room’s layout and how some of the action occurred: [sblock]
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




[/sblock]

(3)	*DM’s Note*: This creature, a dharculus from the 3.0 Manual of the Planes has SR 20.

(4)	Sergio cast _Freedom of Movement_.

(5)	*DM’s Note:* Modrons are immune to subdual damage.

(6)	See Session # 84


----------



## Richard Rawen

Great stuff... must have been really frustrating for you waiting for the players to make a decision. The room is really cool, I am always impressed by the attention to detail you give the religions of the world.


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## el-remmen

Richard Rawen said:
			
		

> Great stuff... must have been really frustrating for you waiting for the players to make a decision. The room is really cool, I am always impressed by the attention to detail you give the religions of the world.




Thanks!

As for frustration: Naw!     After the nearly four hour long _Commune_ debacle back in Nikar, anything else was a cakewalk in comparison, in terms of being frustrated with them.   

Oh, and thanks for dropping a note.  I was starting to think no one had read the last installment.


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

el-remmen said:
			
		

> At what point in the story's events did you take the break?




Just prior to their initial run in with the mercenary crew at the Temple, and the schenanigans under the temple


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## handforged

I find that Hurgun's Maze is nothing like I expected it to be, and yet everything that it should be.  Each of the rooms has a distinct feeling and purpose.  The growing dissension about what to do now is quite interesting, because there are so many options and so many consequences.  As always, I greatly enjoyed it.

~hf


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## Pyske

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Oh, and thanks for dropping a note.  I was starting to think no one had read the last installment.




Still here, patiently waiting for my next fi... update.


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## el-remmen

handforged said:
			
		

> I find that Hurgun's Maze is nothing like I expected it to be, and yet everything that it should be.
> ~hf




Ooh! Oooh!  I love this kind of thing!  What _did_ you expect?   In fact, anyone who wants to chime in on that topic (including my players) is welcome to do so. . .


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## el-remmen

Pyske said:
			
		

> Still here, patiently waiting for my next fi... update.




These is about an 8% chance that an installment might go up tonight - more likely it will be early next week sometime. . .


----------



## el-remmen

*part 2 of 3*

*Session #94 (part ii)*

“As I said before, I trust your instincts in this,” Martin the Green told the Bastite.  “If you feel you should go, then go…”

“You should do what you feel is right, of course,” Bastian said in his quiet way.

“We should wake Ratchis and tell him of this,” Kazrack said.  “You would do well to get his sound advice before going.”

“Let him sleep,” Roland replied.  “He would only argue with me and I find it best to simply do what I think is best with out asking.  It is my typical method.”

“Very well,” Kazrack replied, shaking his head.  “Just remember that the last time you went off on your own, I had to take you out of captivity.” (1)

“Oh, I would have gotten out of there eventually anyway,” Roland laughed and then covering his mouth coughed and continued.  “Not that I did not appreciate your timely aid.  It is just that even though that plan did not work out as I initially intended, my short stay with those dwarves taught be something about the political situation regarding Gothanius regardless of not having arrived ahead of you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about anymore,” Kazrack said, still shaking his head.

“I love it when you play dumb to get me to shut up,” Roland laughed again. “You’re cute in a dwarfly sort of way.”

“Okay, then go…” Kazrack grunted, obviously uncomfortable.  He waved his hand towards the statue of Bast in a dismissive gesture.

Martin cast _mage armor_ and _greater invisibility_ on the Bastite to protect him on his way, and in hopes that invisibly he could slip past the tentacled monster that came through the wall by the portal to the Beastlands.

Roland of Bast pawed silently and invisibly around the screen behind the statue of Bast, taking a moment to look up cautiously to where the wall still occasionally shimmered back and forth.  Behind the screen was a wooden frame of excellent craftsmanship nearly six feet across and over nine feet high.  It was artfully carved to look like two trees bound together by vines and flowers, and the bottom portion was decorated with wooden reliefs of a rat, a weasel, a jackal, a wolf and a mountain lion, all looking up with open mouths.  Within the frame itself was the shimmering and glimmering image of verdant hill upon which was a tree so great that the top of it was not visible in the screen.  There was a clump of brush in the foreground, and the slightest winding hint of a river on the right.

With a quick prayer to Bast, Roland leapt into the image expecting to sail through, but instead he slammed against the frame, bouncing back and crumpling.  He looked back to see the frame still rocking back and forth a bit.

“I can’t get through it!” Roland whined to others. “Passage seems barred.”

“Some portals require a price or offering, or some other requisite exists in regards to who or what it might allow through,” Martin called back.  “Describe it to me in detail.”

Roland did so.

“It must be the mouths,” Martin the  Green speculated.  “The Beastlands are the land of life and of the hunt.  It seems to me that blood would likely do the trick.”

“Blood? How much do you think?” Roland asked.

“As much as would be a sacrifice, or at least I would guess…”

Roland shrugged in his lithe feline body and bit down hard on one of his paws.  He held the paw over the open mouth of the wooden mountain lion, letting most of the blood drip in there, but putting a few drops in the other mouths just in case. (2)

Another quick prayer and he leapt through the shimmering image and a moment later he was gasping as he surfaced in small murky pond in a copse of trees.  Roland paddled over to the edge of the pond and dragged himself out of the water, shaking his body to send water and fur in all directions.

The day was growing long here in the Beastlands.  Roland crawled out of the brush to see the great grassy hill upon which was rooted Chochokpi. The tree was many times larger than the talking tree the Keepers of the Gate had met in Topaline (3), but there was no doubt that this was the same.  The area beneath the tree was already nearly as dark as night.

The air was clean here, tasting better than fresh water, and the sun, though a distant yellow ghost on the horizon, was warm.  Roland felt invigorated and overcome with the pleasure of being.  He rolled and lolled in the grass, occasionally giving off happy growls and yelps that he could not help.  Suddenly, a breeze brought a scent to his feline nostrils.  Prey.

Roland leapt to his four feet and took off towards the river.  When he reached a patch of woods along the shore, he crept in the shadow of the edge of it and moved downwind of the group of antelope he had caught scent of.  He peeked his head above the brush as he came around and saw a small herd of less than a score of the noble beasts, their antlers tall tight whorls that were nothing like the mountain goats and rams Roland was used to back in Aquerra. (4)  They had muscular humps over their front shoulders from which their brown and white heads emerged, and they were nearly seven feet at shoulder.  The antelope were gathering on the far side of the river and would likely get away before Roland could reach them, except for three loitering on the closer shore, seemingly oblivious to the safety of being with the herd and its males.

The black panther Bastite shot out from under the brush and made right for the smallest of the three.  It was young fawn, but it was still the size of a decent buck back in Aquerra. It turned awkwardly when it finally sensed the predator’s approach.  It had barely splashed a few feet into the river when Roland pounced upon it, snapping his jaws about its neck and whipping violently.  Two or three kicks and the antelope drooped lifelessly in the Bastite’s mouth.  The rest of the herd withdrew, the last stragglers still hurrying to catch up to them.

Roland dropped the prey momentarily and roared triumphantly.  Taking it back up again, he hurried back into woods and leapt into a tree and began to devour it. He stopped only when he smelled what were undoubtedly wolves coming from the north. Taking the time to finish his kill, Roland leapt back down and crept to the edge of the wood, seeing a group of nearly twenty great gray wolves crossing the river as well.  The Bastite decided it was time to go see Chochokpi.

The Bastite crept towards the tree slowly, noting how in some places the great tree’s branches touched the ground hundreds of yards from the trunk.  As he came under the cover of the tree he could smell many animals living among the branches above.  It was dark under there, but bits of sunlight dappled the many roots, leaves and vines on the uneven ground.

Suddenly, a branch swung down and sideswiped the panther, knocking him off his feet to skid painfully on his side a few feet.

“Hrum Hroom! Outsider!  Speak up now and be hasty about it, or be smashed!” came Chochokpi’s  voice.  It was like a great wave rushing through a great hollow log, and being drawn back into the sea, rivulets of echo, like birdsong, twitted here and there in it as well, but that made it no less filled with menace.

“I am Roland of Bast,” Roland said, and he felt a momentary queasiness, that passed so quickly he had forgotten about it before he continued.

“Hrrm… Well, hrm… Yes, well… that certainly is a hasty answer,” the tree replied. Roland was still to far away to see the speaking tree’s knotted face.

“Oh great, Chochokpi!” Roland bowed his head and covered his snout with his forepaw for a moment, and then sat up again.  “As I said, I am Roland of Bast, member of the Keepers of the Gate, and I travel here from the mortal realms on a mission of great importance, and I am sure one of your great wisdom and knowledge can aid me in taking the correct course to get the aid I seek.”

“Hmmmmm… You seek aid to get aid? All this frontways thinking never makes any… hrm… Yes, sense to me…” The tree said.  “It has been a long time since I have seen a human here, a long frontways time, at least… And yes, I know you are human… Yes… Hrm… You can’t fool a tree…You said my name, so you must know I am the Tree That Grows Backwards… So everything new to you is old to me… But still, it has been a long frontways time since an outsider has come to speak to me.”

“I am not an outsider,” Roland protested.  “This is the realm that resonates in my soul.  This is where I will come when I die.…”

“If you deserve it,” the Tree retorted.

“I already do,” Roland replied, with cheek.

“That is for Osiris to decide, not you,” Chochokpi’s voice grew deep and menacing once again.  A crow cawed among his branches.  “You are arrogant, but such is the way of mammals.”

“And cats always know the truth, but as much as I would like to sit here and banter with a great and imminent tree such as yourself, I fear I must be hasty and explain to you of my mission,” Roland said.  “You do know of Hurgun of the Stone?”

“Hrrm… Yes, that human is known to me,” Chochokpi replied. “Learned he is, for a human…”

“And if you know of his Maze, then you know of its great power, but right now it seems that it is unattended and its power is seeping between the planes and disrupting things  I think it has to do with a time elemental he tried to bind, but it bound him instead,” Roland tried to explain.  “There are servants of Ptah, my companion Martin the Green calls them ‘modrons’… They seem to be malfunctioning someway and I think they are part of what is making the Maze not behave properly… But I am not sure… We also think that the flow of time itself might be being disrupted.  The fact that this is the second time I am meeting you, but the first time you are meeting me, might have something to do with that as well… It is all very complex and confusing…” Roland panted.

“Hrrm, Hrrm, Really?  Hrrm, well…”

“Have you felt any disruptions here?” Roland asked.

There was a long moment, and a breeze shook Chochokpi’s branches.  Somewhere frogs began to croak, and the sun had completely set.  Darkness swept across the Beastlands like a blue-black shroud that rippled in the wind.  Some time passed… Roland tried addressing Chochokpi again, but there was no response.  After an hour, he heard the howls of wolves on the air, and the Bastite risked creeping closer to Chochokpi’s trunk, in hope it might provide him with some safety.

Roland guessed it was over three hours before he heard Chochokpi’s voice again.

“Hrm… Hroom?”

“Chochokpi? You were silent for a long time.  I was worried,” Roland said.

“I had to feel across the planes to where all my roots do lie and seek out the truth of your frontways words,” Chochokpi replied.  “And you are correct… Hrm… Something is wrong…”

“Yes, something is _very_ wrong,” Roland’s voice took on a tone somewhere between annoyance and pleading.  “And I didn’t get to finish telling you what else is wrong before you… uh, felt your roots or whatever it is you did… There is a fiend, a greater succubus named Ora Amira El loose in the Maze and seeking to use its power for her own evil ends.  My companions and I, the Keepers of the Gate, tried to stop her, but were forced to flee her might.  She killed one of our number, as well.”

“Hrrm, well… yes,… I mean, no, no… That won’t do, not at all,” Chochokpi said.  “Hurgun would not like that… No… Control of the Maze must be gained before it breaks apart and permanently damages the veils between the planes.”

“Yes, but we don’t know how to do that,” Roland replied.

“Not so hasty!” Chochokpi shook all his limbs and small animals and insects all scampered among the limbs with fright.  Roland took a step back and bowed his head again.

“Hrmmmmmm… Yes… yes… I know what must be done,” Chochokpi murmured.  “Yes,… in order to gain control you need to repair the malfunctioning modrons… Yes, that is it… Yes, that is what happens… What _could_ happen frontways, I mean… At least I think so… Maybe not, however… Hrmmm… It is what should be done… Yes… You need to repair the means by which they are repaired and given their basic… uh, orders… Yes, the station…”

“The Modron Station?  Yes, we heard of it and it has been damaged, but how do we repair it, and what do we do once we have?” Roland asked.

“Hrrm, still hasty… But the means of repairing it are a dubious means… Necromantic means that one such as yourself might not have access to…”

“The Book of Black Circles…” Roland murmured.

“Hmmmm?”

“I think one of my companions has the means, though the cost will be dear,” Roland replied.

“Once the modrons are repaired and control is re-established, the Maze must be plunged deep into the Plane of Time,” Chochokpi said.  “Yes, this is what it would… does…will… it would be like that to your frontwards minds… the Plane of Time…”

“And what then?”

“Hope the Time Elemental will be drawn off and return to wherever, whenever, whatever… it came from,” Chochokpi said.  “Or find a way to defeat it… But one cannot defeat time, not even Chochokpi can do that, and I am the Tree That Grows Backwards… Hmmm, hroom! Yes, I am…”

Roland was quiet for a long time contemplating what he had learned.

“The wolves are coming,” Chochokpi said.

“Yes, I smelled them before,” Roland replied.  He cocked his head and asked, “Tell me, do you know where I might find the servants of my mistress, Bast?  I need to ask their aid in this matter.”

“Hrmmm, Hroom… Servants, hmmmm…?” the Tree gurgled, and then was silent for a time before replying.  “This is not a good part of the Beastlands for those who serve your mistress.  To see her servants you must travel to the distant realm of the Tiger-Prince, past the Realm of the Charging Beasts and through the Valley of the Suffering Hunters… And hrmmm, yes… there are also the Wolves of Law…”

“How long would such a journey take?” Roland asked.

Again, there was a long silence punctuated by gurgles and murmurs and the hoot of an owl up in the great tree’s branches.  “Three days as you would count them…”

“Three days here, or three day in Aquerra?” 

“There is… Hrm, Yes… Hroom.… There is no difference… At least I do not think so… So, yes… Difficult to count frontward ways sometimes… Yes… Short bursts! So hasty… I do not like it…”

“And what of these wolves?” Roland asked. “I am not at my full strength… Should I fear if I were to meet a pack of them?”

“Hrmmmmm… Yes… the Wolves of Law… They prowl and patrol and enforce the will of their alpha… Yes…That is what they do… Drink of the pools of water amidst my roots… Be refreshed and restored… You may rest here and recoup your strength before you continue your journey… Yes, that you must… Yes… Hrm….”

Roland hurried over to the pools and felt his wounds close as he drink deeply of them.  He found a warm spot up among the branches to loll lazily until he was relaxed enough to nod off.

------------------------------------------------
*Notes*
(1)	See Session #75

(2)	*DM’s Note:* Those would pass through the gate to the Beastlands had to feed the open mouths an amount of blood equal to 10% of their maximum hit points.

(3)	See Session #84

(4)	These antelope were a form of _Giant Eland_ known to the islands in the far south of Aquerra.


----------



## el-remmen

I decided to break up Session #94 into three parts as not make you all suffer too long without an update.


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

Hurgun's maze reminds me of the maze level of the keep with Demogorgon mini-campaign in Baldur's Gate II. Every gate you step through has a different setting on the other side with different challenges and it's not clear where stepping through the next gate will take you.



			
				handforged said:
			
		

> I find that Hurgun's Maze is nothing like I expected it to be, and yet everything that it should be.  Each of the rooms has a distinct feeling and purpose.  The growing dissension about what to do now is quite interesting, because there are so many options and so many consequences.  As always, I greatly enjoyed it.
> 
> ~hf


----------



## Manzanita

finally caught up here.  Very good stufdf


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

All this time, thinking Hurgun was a Dwarf, to have it plainly stated that he is human.  I wonder where I got that idea?

GW


----------



## el-remmen

Graywolf-ELM said:
			
		

> All this time, thinking Hurgun was a Dwarf, to have it plainly stated that he is human.  I wonder where I got that idea?
> 
> GW




I don't know where you got that from, though in your defense I don't think it was ever explicitly stated that he was human, but in Aquerra you can usually assume someone is human, if not stated otherwise.

Plus, dwarves can't be wizards. . . well, kinda - but usually not.


----------



## Ciaran

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Plus, dwarves can't be wizards. . . well, kinda - but usually not.



Is this related to the vaunted dwarven immunity to enchantments and illusions?


----------



## Baron Opal

IIRC, in el-remmen's game, dwarves that learn arcane magic become accursed. Eventually, they become derro or duergar. It's been awhile since I read his site.


----------



## el-remmen

Baron Opal said:
			
		

> IIRC, in el-remmen's game, dwarves that learn arcane magic become accursed. Eventually, they become derro or duergar. It's been awhile since I read his site.




Derro.


----------



## Blaues

<Skidding to a halt....>

Uh-oh, this is the end of the thread?

<Joins the queue waiting for the next fi.. uh update>

Great work, el-remmen. Loved every minute of it (and there were lot's ;-)


----------



## el-remmen

Blaues said:
			
		

> <Skidding to a halt....>
> 
> Uh-oh, this is the end of the thread?
> 
> <Joins the queue waiting for the next fi.. uh update>
> 
> Great work, el-remmen. Loved every minute of it (and there were lot's ;-)




Not only am I amazed that people still jump in and read this whole monster (I assume you read the whole thing?  If not, where'd you start from?) - but I flattered that someone's first post to the boards would be in my story hour. 

I am glad you are liking it, and beginner's luck has it so that you get another update on the day you catch up. . .


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #94 (part iii)*

Osilem, the 3rd of Ese – 565 H.E.

“_SPOKE TO CHOCHOKPI. AM GOING TO TIGER-PRINCE FOR HELP. MUST FIGHT WOLVES FIRST. WILL RETURN WHEN ABLE. HOPEFULLY WITH HELP.  CAN YOU GET HERE?_”

Bastian relayed the _sending_ he received from Roland the next morning.  The others had waited many hours in terror, catching sleep when possible and were finally able to re-prepare spells.

“You tell him that he is to return immediately!” Kazrack roared.

“It is too late.  You only have a moment to reply,” Bastian said.  “And I already replied…”

“What did you say?” the dwarf asked.

“I said, uh… That’d I’d tell you all what he was doing and that we would try to reach him through the gate, and uh… good luck on his travels to the Tiger-Prince, and uh… if he could give us directions…”

“You said that?” Kazrack asked with disbelief.  Bastian nodded, and the dwarf dropped his head into his own palm with a smack.  

Ratchis placed an awkward hand on his friend’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.  “We just have to go and get him and listen to what he has to say,” the half-orc said, unusually calm.  “We have little choice now.  Well… we could go on without him, but part of friendship is sometimes following along with something you know is stupid idea…” (1) He smiled showing his yellowed sharp crooked lined in black gums. 

“But how could he just make this decision on his own to stay wherever he is?” Kazrack was dumbfounded. “It is just the most selfish… If he went to get aid and realized it would take this long he should have just come back.”

“Getting aid is secondary to him,” Ratchis replied. “He wants to bask in the grace of his goddess, and can you blame him?  We just need to go and get him back, or go along with him if that is what we figure out we need to do.”

“If you view Roland as that selfish that he is making his decisions because of his own…” Bastian began, but Gunthar leapt into his face, bumping his chest against the soft-spoken bearded warrior.

“He’s a bloody Bastite!” Gunthar said.  “Never trust a Bastite I said that when he joined the group. But nobody listens to bloody Gunthar!  You can trust a Bastite with a party, but not with your back.”

“But we cannot afford to give up our gifts to Chochokpi yet,” Kazrack protested, still addressing Ratchis, but stepping between Bastian and the Neergaardian.

“From what Roland told me while we were in City of the Ancients, you have to convince Chochokpi to take the gifts to give back to you,” Bastian said.  “So, even if you do end up meeting him, just don’t do the convincing.  Do it another time.”

“But we can’t know that that was how it happened,” Martin the Green replied.  “We are risking a paradox that could lead to anomalies we could not imagine.”

”They haven’t happened yet, have they?” Bastian asked.  “It seems fairly clear to me.  Maybe since it hasn’t happened, it never happens and we’re safe to do as we please.”

“That makes no sense,” Martin said.

“It doesn’t make any less sense than when you go on about it,” Kazrack grinned.

“I think you just misunderstand Roland,” Bastian said, turning to Ratchis.  “He is not violent like you are, and will not bully others into agreeing with him, but just chooses to go his own way.”

Ratchis was silent for a long moment and then stepped away.

“Aw! I think you just hurt Snuffles feelings,” Gunthar guffawed.  “You think he’s a murderous half-orc!  Haw! Haw!”

Ratchis turned back around.  “Are we ready to go?”

“Excuse me, sir,” Sergio came forward, trying hard to smooth out his fine clothes that were becoming increasingly bedraggled despite this.  “But I am not sure that I want to go into the Beastlands.  To me it seems a rather foolish and dangerous thing to do for no good reason.  I mean, no offense to you… You may have a good reason to go, but I, my good orc, do not.”

“Then stay behind,” Ratchis said.

Sergio looked around nervously and pulled at his collar with obvious discomfort. “I am not sure I want to do that either…”

“You could make your way back to the Air Room and stay with Lady Aureliana,” Bastian suggested.

“But however should I find my way back?”

“Martin will cast his spell determining which portal leads where, in order to help you,” Ratchis said, looking at the watch-mage.  

“I am not sure I want to use it yet if we are not planning to leave the room,” Martin protested. “We may need it more urgently later.”

“If you don’t to help him find some safety we may be leaving him to be killed,” Ratchis replied.

“Any room is as safe or dangerous as another as far as well know, what with Ora-Amira-El running around,” Martin reasoned.

“As your conscience dictates…” Ratchis said.

Martin the Green sighed profoundly.  He cast his spell and looked around at the black portals looking out, and then took the opportunity to check the other gates behind the other screens.

The watch-mage pointed to the portal they had come through, “Control Room,” he said, and then pointing withershins from there he said, “Entrance, Library, Hell.”

The portal behind the statue of Ra went to the Heavens, the one behind the statue of Ptah was a shimmering hovering vertical plane of white light.  It went to the Positive Material Plane.  And of course, the one behind the Anubis statue went to the realm of the Jackal God.  He was surprised that the painting of the Holy City of the Kalevala (2) was also a gate, as was the other which was a depiction of some white and blue icy realm. (3)

“Well, I do not like any of those choices one bit,” Sergio said, flattening his mustache with the tip of his pinky.  “I think I would rather go to the Beastlands than go to any of those places alone.”

“The library could be an interesting to spend time,” Martin reasoned.

“A powerful wizard’s library? Probably the most heavily defended. Don’t you think?” the bard asked.

Martin nodded.

Sergio Fontane and the remaining members of the Keepers of the Gate crammed into the cubic blue field of _the Wurfel Kraft_ and slowly made their way around the screen to the gate into Beastlands.  The tentacles of the otherworldly aberration coming through the wall slammed against the field futilely, but with such strength the whole thing shuddered.  Martin maneuvered the cube so that it blocked the access of the tentacles to the gate itself.  But he then had to quickly deactivate it to let people out two at a time to go through the gate, but put it back up to keep the tentacles from grabbing anyone.

Kazrack grumbled about having to give blood to the waiting mouths of the wooden frame, but he went first certain that there should be a doughty warrior to protect others from any danger as they passed through.  A moment later her was sinking to the bottom of the pond in his full plate mail, watching the others appear from a square plane of blue light above him and break out at the surface, oblivious to the futile waving of his arms.

Meanwhile, Roland of Bast, still in his panther-form crept along a strip of woods back near the river. While Chochokpi had warned him that he would have to face the Wolves of Law eventually, the Bastite wanted to choose the battle ground, and he wanted to summon some allies and prepare them.

“Hrm… Remember, if you slay the alpha wolf the others will likely… Hoom, hrm… Hmmmmm… disperse. Yes, yes… mmmmmm,” Chochokpi had said to Roland by way of advice.

Chanting and praying in a small clearing within a branch of the woods that ran along the river, four lions appeared to help their mistress’ priest. With the howl of wolves before him, and the scent of a second group creeping through the woods from where the river was obscured, Roland cast another spell, and he and the four lions (three of them lionesses) grew to a great size. (4). Finally he called to Bast to fill him with _Divine Power_ increasing his strength, resilience and fighting skill.

Roland sent the great golden lions out of the brush in a staggered charge.  He stepped clear to see about a half-dozen wolves heading towards them.  The first lioness roared angrily as the dire wolves surrounded her, but this quickly became growls of pained confusion, as the dire wolves snapped at her from all sides, and pulled her off her feet despite her size.  They worried her side and haunches, drawing great gouts of blood.  In a moment she was already critically wounded, but the other summoned lions leapt in.  The two other lionesses dragged wolves out of the circle, crunching down on their backs with their own powerful jaws, and trying to pin down the canines with a huge paw.  

The male leapt into the thick of the fray scattering the remaining wolves, and allowing the first lion to get to her feet again. 

Roland charged out into the clearing, but then pulled off to the left. It was a ruse to draw out the rest of the wolves, as the Bastite had smelled them coming around when the wind changed.  From the brush came a huge wolf followed by three more of the dire wolves. 

“Bast! In your own realm where your mere thought is made real, I beg to help thy humble servant and smite these foes that seeks to halt me from seeking your aid!” Roland cast the spell, but the as the _holy smite_ came down among the wolves, the alpha wolf disappeared. The other wolves howled as the divine energy washed over them, but they were did not seem to be that effected. (5)

Suddenly, the alpha wolf appeared behind Roland and grabbed the Bastite’s rear paw, trying to drag him to the ground with a twist of his great head.  Roland was able to pull free and keep his footing, while he twisted away and around, to keep his eyes on all the approaching wolves.   However, the alpha wolf disappeared again.  Roland looked around wildly trying to get a bead on him, but could  not.  He did see the male lion shake his mane free of blood right after crushing the throat of one of the wolves.  The two lionesses were finishing off another, but the first lioness was already gone.  The other wolves were withdrawing and reforming a semi-circular cluster to attack from.

And then the wolves were almost on him, so Roland turned again as if to flee, but charged and pounced at the lead wolf instead.  They tumbled together, clawing and biting.  The other two wolves moved in biting at Roland. Suddenly, they howled strangely and their bites seemed stronger, as if biting down into the essence of his faith, and the wounds burned.  (6) 

Roland pulled himself free, leaving the first wolf dead beneath him, but had to turn around quickly to fend off the two wolves still hounding him.  He could see the two lionesses killing another wolf, but the alpha wolf appear behind the male and pounced upon him, driving the noble beast to the ground.

Roland withdrew some more and called to Bast to close his wounds, and then had to leap right back into melee with the two wolves on him.  He managed to kill another, but the alpha male appeared beside him and tore into him before disappearing again.

“Bast curse you!” Roland cried in agony and frustration.  He leapt upon the other wolf to kill it, as he saw the alpha wolf finish off the male lion.  One of the remaining lionesses was moaning in pain as two wolves worried her from each side over and over, but the other two wolves were bleeding out on the ground.

The dire wolf near Roland withdrew and tried to blindside the remaining lioness, but she spun around and snapped her jaws beneath its throat and twisted him around, slapping a heavy paw on its chest.  Roland charged in and pounced on one of the wolves worrying the dying lioness.  He tore its back open and it collapsed beneath him, just as the lioness’ body disappeared.  The other wolf withdrew.

The alpha wolf appeared to finish the other lioness, but Roland spun around and called to Bast with a roar, shooting a ray of _searing light_ that hissed as it burned across the huge alpha wolf’s chest.  It whined and disappeared.

“Yes! Go! Run! Do you see how cowardly he is?” Roland asked of the remaining wolves, but his voice was roars and growls in his fury.

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

”I’m telling you there are demon octopus here,” Kazrack sputtered as the others dragged him away from the pond.

“It was a fiendish octopus that Bastian summoned to pull you up to the surface so you wouldn’t drown,” Martin the Green explained. “But you just batted it away…”

“I would rather drown than take aid from a fiend,” Kazrack sat up and coughed.  He turned to glare at Bastian, but bearded warrior turned away and crept to the edge of the trees to have a look around.  He sent N’kron off to have a look.

“Well, you nearly did drown,” Martin said, as Ratchis helped the dwarf to his feet.  The half-orc squeezed water out of the red-brown nappy locks atop his head. 

“Big lions are fighting wolves,” N’kron said to Bastian through their telepathic connection.

Bastian conveyed this to the others and they hurried down to the clearing in sight of the river.  They were awed by how verdant his place was.  They ran down towards the twinkling blue-green river, seeing the towering branches of Chochokpi off to their left. They saw the blast of _searing light_ burn through the morning mist as they approached in time to see Roland finish the last of the dire wolves.  The lioness was long gone.

“Careful! The alpha male is still around and he _blinks_!” Roland warned when he saw the others.

“Everyone around Roland, in a tight ring facing out,” Ratchis said, and the Keepers of the Gate closed ranks around their Bastite companion, weapons drawn.  Sergio had drawn his rapier as well, but he entered the circle looking around quite nervously.

Roland took a long whiff and everyone waited expectantly for a long moment, but nothing happened.  

“The coward fled,” Roland said, laying down in the grass to lick at his wounds.  “I am so glad you came.  It would have been lonely traveling to see the Tiger-Prince alone.”

Kazrack opened his mouth to protest.

“Before the arguing starts, I want to look around,” Martin said, and with a word he transformed into his Tanweil-form with a use of _alter self_ and he took off awkwardly with his stubby wings.  He had not ascended very far when he noted a huge eagle swooping down in his direction.

*End of Session #94*
------------------------------------------------
*Notes*

(1)	Nephthys is goddess of freedom, but she is also goddess of friendship and bravery.

(2)	The pantheon of the Northern Reaches is an amalgam of Finnish, Norse and Celtic gods and folklore.

(3)	This location remains a mystery.

(4)	Roland cast _Cat Growth_

(5)	These wolves were not evil.

(6)	These _axiomatic_ dire wolves used their _smite chaos_ ability.


----------



## Richard Rawen

el-remmen said:
			
		

> I decided to break up Session #94 into three parts as not make you all suffer too long without an update.




Great Stuff!  And once again I'm amazed at the turns the PC's take!


----------



## Pyske

Ah, Kazrack.  You're such a character!


----------



## el-remmen

Pyske said:
			
		

> Ah, Kazrack.  You're such a character!





Care to elaborate?


----------



## Pyske

Just marvelling at the consistency with which Kazrack's player brings out the dwarven mindset and cultural assumptions.

Some example quotes from last episode:
< shocked >"But how could he just make this decision on his own..."< /shocked >
...he went first certain that there should be a doughty warrior to protect others from any danger as they passed through. A moment later her was sinking to the bottom of the pond in his full plate mail...
"I would rather drown than take aid from a fiend,” Kazrack sat up and coughed.

I just love the sense of confidence in his worldview that Kaz displays.  Open-mindedness is for other men.


----------



## el-remmen

Pyske said:
			
		

> Just marvelling at the consistency with which Kazrack's player brings out the dwarven mindset and cultural assumptions.




The funny thing about this comment is that there have been several instances where other players gave Kazrack's player a hard time about how "dwarfly" Kazrack acts about certain things. . . but looking back aside from those instances overall I think he did a great job RPing Kazrack.

*In other news*, tomorrow we are playing a "reunion session" - to revisit the characters a few months after the campaign ended to tackle a dangling thread or two.  So it looks like even after I am done with the campaign Story Hour, there will be at least one post script of an additional mini "adventure".


----------



## mmu1

el-remmen said:
			
		

> The funny thing about this comment is that there have been several instances where other players gave Kazrack's player a hard time about how "dwarfly" Kazrack acts about certain things. . . but looking back aside from those instances overall I think he did a great job RPing Kazrack.




Well, acting stubborn and rock-headed for an an hour of real-time might be great RP, but the third or fourth time it happened, I sort of just stopped caring who was doing it - the character or the player - and wanted to strangle them both. But I mean that in the nicest possible way.


----------



## el-remmen

mmu1 said:
			
		

> Well, acting stubborn and rock-headed for an an hour of real-time might be great RP, but the third or fourth time it happened, I sort of just stopped caring who was doing it - the character or the player - and wanted to strangle them both. But I mean that in the nicest possible way.




Yes, well. . . as we figured out our pacing and play style didn't exactly match up  - That's not to say that I did not find it frustrating sometimes myself, but I will take that over making choices that are out of character just to move the game along.


----------



## Tony Vargas

Pyske said:
			
		

> Just marvelling at the consistency with which Kazrack's player brings out the dwarven mindset and cultural assumptions.



Cool, Kazrack's fan club has a second member...


----------



## Richard Rawen

*Oops!*

I bumped into somethin...


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #95 (part 1 of 2)* (1)

Martin tucked in his reptilian wings and dropped down to the ground immediately, landing beside Ratchis.

“A giant eagle is swooping down in our direction!” he warned.

“We cannot afford to be drawn into a fight here without knowing who is who and what is what,” Ratchis replied.  “Roland, can you do something?”

With a roar, the Bastite summoned a great cloud of _obscuring mist_ that billowed out from beneath his body and filled the area.

“Who farted?” Gunthar guffawed.

“We are vulnerable out here,” Roland said.  “That was just a quick defensive maneuver.  We need to decide how best to handle this.”

“I find this mist to be not necessarily a very prudent means of defense,” Sergio’s voice came wafting out the odorless mist.  “It probably cannot see us, but we definitely cannot see it.”

“Okay, Roland, we are here because of you,” Kazrack’s voice was filled with grudging restraint. “What are we supposed to be doing?”

“Yes, what is going on?” Martin the Green asked.

“Well, I spoke with Chochokpi and learned that in order to handle the problem of the Maze we need to repair the Modron Station with powerful necromancy,” Roland explained. “And once that is accomplished, the modrons must be made to send the Maze deeper into the Plane of Time, where we might battle or drive off the time elemental…”

“You could have returned immediately and told us that as soon as you learned it!” Kazrack yelled, his restraint quickly forgotten. 

“Let’s keep our voices down,” Ratchis admonished.  “We do not want to draw more attention than  we already have.”

“The Tiger Prince might be a powerful ally,” Roland said. “Chochokpi told me where I might find him.  What I planned to do was for the sake of being more likely to accomplish the awesome task before us.”

“Do we _need_ the aid of this Tiger Prince?” Martin asked.

“If he is as powerful as I suspect, he might be able to more easily defeat the demoness, Ora-Amira-El,” Roland replied.

There was a long silence, broken only by the whooshing of the wind that swirled the mist the Keepers of the Gate.

“But…” Roland continued.  “It will take about three days to get there, so we are talking at least six days…”

“Kazrack, when you fell ill because you were not attending to Osiris’ task quickly enough, how long did it last?”  (2) Martin asked. “I feel the weight of my task upon me, and I fear I will soon be feeling its debilitating effects.”

“Several days,” the dwarf replied.

Martin the Green sighed.  “I guess I will hold on as long as I can…”

“If we are going to talk about this longer we should make a break for the cover of the woods near the pond,” Ratchis said.  “When the mist dissipates we will be out in the open.”

It was agreed, and a moment later the Keepers of the Gate, accompanied by Sergio, took off for the woods, leaving the _obscuring mist_ behind.

“N’kron warned me that the giant eagle is still around, but way up in the sky,” Bastian told the others as they ran.

They gathered by the pond and continued their discussion.

“So can we count on this Tiger Prince to aid us?” Ratchis asked the Bastite.

“Well…” Roland took a long time before continuing. He sat down and his panther tail flicked back and forth nervously. He looked at everyone. “I really am not sure that this prince will help, but I have hope that I can convince him to do so.  I hope that your assessment of my judgment has led you to trust my instinct…”

“Heh. Based on your past displays of judgment, we should return to Hurgun’s Maze immediately,” Kazrack replied.

“Kazrack! That was petty,” Roland complained.

“The truth is never petty,” Kazrack said.  “I will say it again.  We should return to Hurgun’s Maze immediately.”

“And there you go again,” Roland replied.  He sat up, still in panther-form, and the black velvet fur on his back bristled.

“Is there a point to your blathering?” Kazrack replied.  “Can you give us a real and sufficient reason to believe we should go wandering some bestial landscape to find some tiger-king…?”

“Tiger-_Prince_,” Roland snapped.  “There is no monarch here but Bast.”

Kazrack shrugged his indifference.

“I must say that I believe that wandering a plane is folly,” Sergio Fontane interjected, rubbing the back of his neck.  “And a the demoness is a pale shadow of what we might meet here.  If you decide to go find this Tiger-Prince, I will be returning to the Maze alone.”

“And it still stands that we cannot give the demoness six days, if not more, to get her hands on the power of the Maze,” Kazrack said.

“We will die if we face that demon again,” Bastian joined the discussion quietly.  “Perhaps it is worth the risk to take these six days out of our way.”

“It will likely be more than six days,” Kazrack said, getting heated.

“We know where you stand, Kazrack…” Roland began.

“And we know where you stand,” Kazrack interrupted.  “You would have taken it upon yourself to abandon us in the Maze and undertake this folly on your own if we had not come here to convince you to come back.  I still think we might have been better served to just leave you here if that is what you really want.”

“That is enough!” Roland roared.

“No, it is not enough!” the dwarf replied.  “You are a selfish and foolish man that thinks of naught but himself, and…”

“Kazrack! Be silent!” 

“No! I will not be ordered about by the likes of you!” the dwarf spat.

There was the cry of bird unseen way above them that echoed the growing volume of their argument.

“Birds! Friggin’ wolves! I thought this was cat-land?” Gunthar swore.  The Neergaardian was sitting on a stump and had the _Left Blade of Arofel_ across his lap.

Bastian walked over to Martin who was sitting by the edge of the pond with his back to the others.

“How are you feeling?” the bearded warrior asked the watch-mage.

“Like strangling my companions,” Martin replied dryly, but he slapped his hands on the ground and standing, turned to Roland.  “Can you at least give a guess of how likely the Tiger-Prince is to help us?  And how dangerous the journey to see him will be?”  The watch-mage instinctively held his right hand to his face to cover his disfigurement.

“As for the likelihood of aid, with no hubris I can say that the likelihood is based on my ability to convince him and display my faith and dedication to Bast, and thus, I have no doubt,” Roland replied. “As for the journey… Well, of that I am less certain.  Chochikpi said we would have to pass through a place called the ‘Valley of Suffering Hunters’… Oh, and another place he referred to ‘the Realm of the Charging Beasts’.”

“Kazrack,” Martin turned to the dwarven priest.  “I suggest you cast the stones.”

“I will certainly try, but I fear that so far from my gods in the realm of other gods the patterns in the runes may not come as clearly,” Kazrack said.

“Part of me feels that I should not be so prideful to I assume that only _we_ can solve the problem of the Maze.  Perhaps such puzzles require us to admit our shortcomings and seek out this help,” Ratchis said.  “But at the same time, the risks involved in going after this possible aid has me doubting…”

“It seems perfectly clear to me,” Kazrack said.  “Pure reason alone is enough to show we should return and not seek out this tiger-man.”

Roland snarled.

“Kazrack… Please go throw the stones,” Martin pleaded.

The dwarf nodded and walked off to consult his gods in private.  Ratchis walked over to stand guard over his friend while still keeping his distance.  Sergio and Gunthar were shearing swigs from a flask.

“Martin? Are you really willing to risk being killed by Osiris’ _geas_ to go find this aid?” Bastian asked.

“I am not as important as what needs to be done,” Martin the Green replied.

“But aren’t you afraid that as you are weakened by the _geas_ you will be more likely to succumb to the influence of the Corruptor’s book?”

“Uh…”

There was a long heavy silence.

Martin shrugged. “I’m going to die either way.”

After a time, Kazrack and Ratchis returned.

“I think the gods are telling us that this aside will be unnecessary and risky journey,” Kazrack began.

Roland opened his mouth to speak.

“But let me recite the words of my gods as exactly as I can, so you all might judge for yourselves,” Kazrack continued.  “_The capricious nature of beasts will delay and frustrate even the most patient dwarf, and ironically, may even kill a man despite his beastly nature._”

“Well, then… Who wants to go into the pond first?” Roland said, stalking off towards the water.

“Well, that settles that…” Ratchis said, and followed.

The Friar of Nephthys was sent first with a rope tied around his waist.  He felt the slightest resistance as he passed through the portal of blue light, but relaxed and passed through. Ratchis went through the portal to re-appear in the Light Room, but the rope was cut off.  Kazrack who was following behind holding on to the rope passed right through the portal, unwilling or unable to relax enough to pass through. (3) Worried that something might have happened to him Roland leapt in and saw Kazrack lying in the muck below, frantically stirring up the bottom of the pond trying to swim to the surface and clearly failing in his full plate armor.

Roland swam quickly to the top and told Martin what was happening.

“Gunthar, you have to go help Kazrack!” Martin said to the Neergaardian.

“Uh-uh, Ratchis told me to stay in the back,” Gunthar winked, but he sat down in the grass and began to take off his boots.

“Were you planning on leaving your boots here?” Martin asked, clearly disgusted with Gunthar’s delay.

Gunthar stopped and looked up at the watch-mage. “No, but I’m not going through the damned portal now, am I? I’m going trolling for a dwarf… Not that I haven’t done that before, if you know what I mean…”  He winked.

“I mean, don’t you think you should hurry?”

“He’s got time,” Gunthar went back to his boots. “He’s got strong dwarven lungs.  I’m sure if you asked him he’d tell you that himself.”

Sergio chuckled, and Roland would have certainly found it funny as well, but he dove back down into the pond and this time through the portal to leap out of the wooden frame behind the screen in the Light Room.  However, at that same moment, Ratchis, concerned that no one had come through behind him, cut himself again and paid the price of blood to go back through the frame.

The half-orc broke the surface of the pond.    Gunthar was pulling off his chain shirt and was about to leap in.

“Kazrack is drowning at the bottom of the pond!” Martin said.  Ratchis leapt back in and Gunthar followed him.

It took some time before everyone was coughing and sputtering back in the Light Room.  Martin activated the _Wurfel Kraft_ as soon as everyone was through, and it was not a moment too soon, as the pink and green tentacles came through the wall to slam against the side of it.

A few moments later, when the blue cubic field of light dissipated near the center of the Light Room, the Keepers of the Gate fell to arguing again.  Gunthar walked away from the others, and began to examine the beams of light that acted as bars to protect the golden book upon the pedestal within.  Sergio joined him and the two began to discuss how they might be circumvented.

“Purely theoretically,” Sergio said, waggling his eyebrows.

Gunthar sneered.

The debate on what to do next sputtered when Martin announced it was pointless to argue until after he used the _analyze portal_ spell he had prepared and they could see where the portals led.  

“I also plan to take more time looking at each portal that I might actually get a view of what lies beyond,” he explained.   

Martin cast his spell and soon was walking around to look at each portal.  “Hell,” he said pointing to the portal near where the worm-like tentacles had emerged from the wall.  Across from it was the way into the Air Room where the guest quarters and cloud rooms were.  The portal back the way they came now led to somewhere Martin called the ‘Control Room’ and the portal opposite it led back to the Entrance room with its para-elemental guardians. (4)

Martin covered his eyes with his left hand and concentrated at the portal leading to the Control Room.  Beyond was a room that he guessed was the same size as all the other chambers they had passed through, and much like the Light Room, it was brightly illuminated, but with blue-white light.  There were broad metal steps leading up to a catwalk made of metal grates, which created a cross that hung over a misty chasm.  The actual floor of the room was invisible in blue and white roiling mist.  The center of the room was obscured by a similar mist within which was a blue twirling light sparking with a myriad of tiny lights along its incorporeal tubular surface.  A dark-skinned figure hovered above a throne like chair in the room’s center platform.

“What do you see?” asked Roland.  Martin waved the Bastite away and hurried over to the portal that he had determined led to the Air Room, and again he extended his visual senses through it.  The room appeared empty, the cloud rooms floating lazily across the ceiling.

As the watch-mage described what he had seen to the others, Ratchis, Kazrack and Roland doled out the healing favors of their gods to the group.

“Could the ‘control room’ be the Modron Station?” Ratchis asked.

“I saw no machinery,” Martin replied.  “I don’t think so.”

“The Modron Station must be like the works for the Maze, this is the _Control_ Room; that figure must be Hurgun,” Roland said, shaking his head.  He had transformed back into his normal human shape.

“And the swirling blue light must be the time elemental,” Bastian said.

“So does what you saw suggest a course of action?” Kazrack asked.

“Don’t touch the blue light?” Martin shrugged his shoulders.

“We’re supposed to fix the Modron Station,” Ratchis said.  “Maybe we should not go into the Control Room yet.”

“We don’t know the way to the Modron Station,” Martin said. “And this might give us a chance to determine what we are dealing with.”

The others agreed and a moment later they were passing through the portal into the Control Room, one at a time.

Bastian saw Gunthar hang back and toss a copper coin through the bars of light that warded the golden book in the center of the Light Room.  There was flash of light as the coin struck one of the bars and then the thing was gone…

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

The Control Room had a palpable cold, as if mountain water snaked invisibly in narrow rivulets in the air.  The Keepers of the Gate gathered on the metal steps up to the catwalk before them, and could look down through the grating at the swirling mist fifteen feet below.  There was no way to tell how deep the room went.  

At the center of the crossed fifteen foot wide catwalks was a square metal platform another five feet up.  It had a silvery metal obelisk about six inches to a side at the base and each just less than four feet tall.  In the center was a metal throne-like chair on revolving disk, but no one sat on it.  Instead hovering five feet above it was a man with his arms akimbo and his head slightly tilted back.  He was stripped bare from the waist up, and had broad shoulders and well muscled arms.  He had rich brown skin and his head and face were hairless, not even eyebrows.  His eyes were closed.  He was close to six and half feet tall.

“It is Hurgun of the Stone,” Martin whispered to the others.

Around Hurgun the swirl of blue tubular light spun, expanding and contracting at seemingly random pulses, sometimes reaching out as far as fifteen feet from the center platform. (5)

 Suddenly they noticed a murmur as if of voices on a wind swelling and ebbing beneath them in the mist.  The time elemental sparkled and pulsed and suddenly some of the voices became clearer.

“_No Kazrack, go to the lifeboats_,” the heard a woman’s deep voice over the rain and wind of a storm, and the muffled cries of a frantic ship’s crew.  “I’ll be right behind you!”

Kazrack’s mouth opened in awe and consternation.  He peered over the edge of the platform and tugged on his beard worriedly.  He then turned to Martin.  “What does it mean?”

“I…” Martin began, but suddenly the sound of young laughter wafted up from the mists below. “_Martin wet his bed! Ha! Ha! _” 

“_Are you sure we should hole up in here, Roland? _” came a different, only slightly different voice. 

“_Yesh… Mmmm… Delicious! _” came another voice, this once was sibilant.

“Whatever is in here is responding to our presence,” Martin finally said, as another woman’s voice was shrieking, “_Gwar! Gwar! I am so sorry! Love you; do you understand love? I love YOU! _”

“If we there is nothing we can do here until we have repaired the Modron Station, let us leave,” Ratchis said.

“_Gunthar! You worthless little sh*t!_” came a shrill slurring voice followed by a sound like an echoing smack.  “_Get the hell out of here before I sell you to the Jackal-Ghouls!_” (6)

“Martin, can you check the portals out of here at least?” Roland asked.  “What if one leads to the Modron Station?”

The watch-mage nodded and cast his spell.  The portal across from the one they came through led to the somewhere called the Storage Room. The portal on the left led to the Dining Room.  The one on the right led to the Dark Room, and the one they had come through was now leading to the Air Room.  The Keepers of the Gate went back through the portal into the guest quarters.

Martin hurried ahead to get a look at the portals out of this chamber before his spells’ duration expired.  From left to right they led to the Light Room, the Earth Room (which was the Audience Chamber) and the ‘Chambers’.

“Do you think the modrons will attack us if we run across any as we explore the Maze?” Roland asked.

“Probably,” Ratchis replied.

“Modrons are the least of our worries,” Martin the Green said, uncharacteristically.

“Lady Aureliana?  Are you still here?” Ratchis called out.

Lady Aureliana came floating down out of one of the rooms.  Her sea-blue hair looked ruffled as if she had just woken up from a deep sleep, and her white gossamer gown hung off her bare shoulders.  Her insect-wings buzzed as she landed.

“Oh? Are you back?” she asked in her high-pitch, but mellifluous voice.  “I fear terrible things have been happening in the Maze…”

“What have you seen or heard?” Ratchis asked.

“Modrons moving through the room in a state of alert, many of them were wounded,” she replied, looking right at Ratchis.  He noted how she no longer seemed to tense up nervously and look away when she addressed him.  “Where did you come from?” she asked.

“The Control Room,” Kazrack replied, and then turned to his friends. “I still think we should go back in there and experiment a bit and see more about the nature of the time elemental.  We do not know where the Modron Station is, but we know where this room is… At least until the rooms begin to move again.  We have no time."

“Oh yes, I agree,” said Lady Aureliana.  “If you have discovered something so important, to abandon it in hopes of finding something else might be foolish.  Remember, I was lost in this Maze for a time and only made my way back here quite by accident.  I will come with you to this Control Room, and give what aid I can.”

Ratchis frowned. “Why have you changed your mind?” He asked the sylph.

“Changed my mind?”

“Before you did not want to leave here,” the half-orc replied.

“Before you were not sure where you were going, but now there is a more definite goal,” Lady Aureliana reasoned, as she brushed a lock of her wispy hair behind her pointed ears.

“It is futile to tamper with it until the Modron Station is repaired,” Martin insisted.  “Has Gilbart returned?”

“I have not seen Gilbart.”

“She is lying,” Ratchis whispered to Martin in orcish, moving to one side with the watch-mage. (8)

“But what can we do?” Martin whispered back, his inflection might have been humorous to Ratchis under different circumstances.

“You know, I am not sure of Aquerra, but where I come from whispering like that is not polite,” Lady Aureliana admonished them with a smile.

“They have no manners,” Roland responded.  “But if you’ll excuse me, I left some of my things in one of the rooms, and need to collect them.  The Bastite willed himself to enter one of the floating rooms.

Ratchis flashed Kazrack a look of warning and the dwarf frowned.

“Tell me, Lady Aureliana,” the dwarf said. “How did you like the gift I gave you before?” (9)

The sylph paused, and furrowed her brow. “Gift? What gift was that?”

“You do not remember?” Kazrack asked.

“Kazrack…” Ratchis began, but the dwarf raised a hand.

“I find it interesting that you suddenly want to go exploring the Maze when before you did not want to,” Kazrack said to the sylph.

“Yes, your orcish companion said as much,” she replied.  “If you do not wish to accompany me, I am willing to go alone.”

“You see, that is even odder,” Kazrack said.  He stepped before the portal.  “I am afraid I will not be able to allow you to go the Control Room, either with us or without us.”

“Kazrack…” Ratchis began again.

“You folk of the earth are so strange,” Lady Aureliana said.  “But I _suggest_ that you and your companions are better off letting us each try to do what we can in the Maze without interfering in each other’s goals.”

Kazrack shook his head.

Roland came back out of the cloud room looking pale.  He held something in his arms, and turned his back to the others to show it to Martin the Green.  It was the twisted and broken corpse of Lady Aureliana’s pseudo-dragon companion.

Ratchis noticed it out of the corner of his eye.

“Martin! Can we possible let her through?” Ratchis asked in orcish again. “We cannot allow her into the Control Room.  We must stop her here or die trying!”

The half-orc reeled as he heard Ora-Amira-El’s laughing voice in his head.  “I can hear your every thought, worm!”

Lady Aureliana began to laugh as her form changed.  She grew to a great height and another set of muscular arms stretched out of her expanding torso, revealing two-sets of veiny breasts.  “Fine. You want to choose to face me here and now?  At least I will get the pleasure of watching you kill another of your friends, Kazrack.”

--------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	This session was played on July 23rd, 2005.

(2)	See Session #29

(3)	*DM’s Note:* In order to pass through they had to fail a DC 6 Will save, or willingly fail the save.

(4)	See Sessions #91 & 92

(5)	The layout of the Control Room can be seen behind the sblock: [sblock]
	

	
	
		
		

		
			





[/sblock]
(6)	‘Jackal-Ghoul’ is a common nickname for Monks of Anubis.

(7)	Wizards may change prepared spells at the rate of 15 minutes per spell level per spell.

(8)	Ratchis taught Martin some basic orcish while the watch-mage taught Ratchis some basic reading on the trips to and from Nikar and while they were in that town.

(9)	*DM’s Note:* Suspecting that Lady Aureliana was not who she appeared to be, Kazrack was trying to bluff her into revealing it; rather ineptly.


----------



## handforged

Oopsie, I guess Lady Aureliana didn't really want to stay behind after all!  This maze is getting more and more complicated as things progress.  I can't wait to see what happens with the demoness.

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

handforged said:
			
		

> Oopsie, I guess Lady Aureliana didn't really want to stay behind after all!
> ~hf




Not sure I get you. . .


----------



## Manzanita

This group does argue a lot.  Usually the groups I've been in 'discussed' more than argued.  They've been together so long, though, perhaps they're like an old married couple.  Clever of them to figure out who the demoness was.


----------



## Gold Roger

I hope they kill the bitch this time around.

Will we still see Richard and the Monks of Rakafet? It would be kind of anticlimatice for them to go out like that.

And lastly: While I greatly enjoy the updates I have to say I enjoy the DMs commentary even more. When will we see the next one.


----------



## el-remmen

Gold Roger said:
			
		

> I hope they kill the bitch this time around.




This is just round two, I'm afraid. . .   



			
				Gold Roger said:
			
		

> Will we still see Richard and the Monks of Rakafet? It would be kind of anticlimatice for them to go out like that.




Oh ye of little faith!  You've read this whole story hour, what is the common theme?  Recurance of NPCs.  The question is not _IF_, but _HOW_. . . .   



			
				Gold Roger said:
			
		

> And lastly: While I greatly enjoy the updates I have to say I enjoy the DMs commentary even more. When will we see the next one.




You know, I meant to write one right after the battle with Mozek, but somehow it slipped my mind.  I'll see if I can whip something up this weekend.  I have been battling a cold, so I plan to stay in anyway and get some rest.


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Clever of them to figure out who the demoness was.




Just because they are not present doesn't mean things aren't happening.  Ora-Amira-El was wandering around the Maze as well, so it was only a matter of time until Lady Aureliana's refuge failed to keep her safe.


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

One week later, here's a bump to let El-Remmen know he still has readers who eagerly await his updates.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #95 (part ii)*

Ora-Amira- El opened her mouth and letting her long pointed stud-pierced tongue roll out as she shook her head back and forth, spat forth a stream of red and black fire.  Gunthar leapt out of the way, avoiding the flame, but Kazrack cried out and had to smack the at flames out as they roasted him in his armor and threatened to singe his beard.

Ratchis leapt at the demon, great sword in hand, but she laughingly smacked him away and the blade could not even touch her.

“_Invisus Maiore!_” Martin the Green cast his spell and _invisibility_ covered Kazrack as the dwarf called to his gods to surround him a _circle of protection against evil_.  Roland’s voice joined the clamor of prayers as he _blessed_ the group, and a song was on Sergio’s lips, and suddenly Ratchis, Kazrack, Bastian and Gunthar were moving with greater speed. (1)

Bastian swung his warhammer at the demoness as he dove in at her, but then pulled away as she turned her gaze to him.

“My love? How could you?” She laughed, licking the corner of her black mouth.  She stopped and placed her lower right hand on her hip and leaned back a bit in a casual display.  “Well, you can start running now. I always find that part so much fun.”

“_Invisus Maiore!_” Martin chanted again, and this time Ratchis disappeared.

Kazrack stepped back near the portal that led to the Control Room (or at least, had led from the Control Room when they stepped through from there), calling to the others to stand by him and block the way.

“She seems to have taking a liking to you, Bastian,” Sergio said, tugging on the warrior’s arm. “I hope that you will you that to defend me to the best of your ability.”

“Uh, sure,” Bastian replied, puzzled.

As the others backed into the invisible dwarf’s general area, the demoness continued to hang back as well, sucking on a finger playfully.

“Oh, Roland, I think something that must certainly be retrieved right away if you hope to fulfill your quest lies through that portal over there,” she pointed to the portal that Martin had declared as going to ‘Chambers’. (2)

“Not bloody likely, bitch,” Roland replied.

Suspicious of Sergio’s words to Bastian, Ratchis cast _detect charm_ and could see the aura of an enchantment on the human warrior.  The curly haired bard stepped behind his would be protector, bumping into the invisible half-orc, and a moment later, when everyone was crammed into the same general area Martin drew out _the Wurfel Craft_ and pressed down on the side of the cube that depicted a garden gate.  Suddenly, they were protected by the blue cubic field of light. 

“It’s going to be a waiting game is it?” Ora-Amira-El traced the circumference of one of her pustulant black nipples with one her claws, drawing the slightest bit of blood as she pouted her lips. “I have all the time in the world.  How about you?”  She blew them a kiss with another of her four hands.

Sergio Fontane yelped as he felt the still invisible Ratchis yoke him from behind.  The skinny bard was pressed under the half-orc’s arm pit and no amount of wiggling was getting him out.

“Get your filthy paws off of me!” Sergio complained.  “There is no time for this!  Can’t you see the demoness is right here?”

“Release Bastian,” was Ratchis’ reply.

“Ratchis! Put him down.  Come now. This is not the time,” Bastian reasoned.

“Yes, listen to him,” Sergio managed to choke out. “Bastian! Restrain your companion!”

“Release him now,” Ratchis squeezed again.

“Sergio, we do not have time to deal with her _and_ you,” Roland said.  “Release Bastian and we can see our way clear of giving you the benefit of the doubt regarding your actions.”

“The spell is gone!” Sergio croaked. Roland confirmed this with a spell and Ratchis let the bard go.  “Savages!” the fop added.

Meanwhile, Kazrack and Martin had been sharing whispers as Ora-Amira-El climbed up atop the _cube of force_.  She straddled one corner and Kazrack shuddered as he looked up into her festering demonic substitute for womanhood, and then looked away.

“You know, my son Mozek deserved to die if he could not defeat such a sorry lot as you,” the demoness said. “He always thought he could play with the big boys, but he was so wrong.  But oh, did those gnome-boys know how to pleasure their momma…”

Even Gunthar shuddered at that one.

“Everyone be ready to act when I speak,” Kazrack cryptically announced.  He turned to the watch-mage. “Martin, be ready to do what we discussed.”

“Oh no!” the demoness feigned worry and leapt back off the cube to spin around and face them.  She had two hands on her hips and two at her cheeks in mock anxiety. “Is something going to happen?  Are you going to pull off some brilliant plan to defeat me?”

“Now!” Kazrack said, and Martin the Green pressed the side of the stone cube that depicted the sundial.  He then walked towards the black portal and the blue cubic force field moved into the stone wall around it, allowing them access, but still blocking the portal from the outside.

Roland hurried through first, followed by Sergio and Kazrack.  The dwarf cursed that it should have been him who went through first. Gunthar and Bastian went next and finally Ratchis passed through with Martin right behind him.

The Keepers of the Gate were back in the Control Room.  The cold air whirred about them.  The blue cube of light pushed against those who had already come through as they were outside of it; only Ratchis and Martin were within.  Martin deactivated the cube and everyone turned to watch the portal they had just come through, certain Ora-Amira-El would be coming through any moment; but she did not.

After a few moments they began to relax, though Ratchis would not take his eyes from the portal.

“Look!” Roland called, and his voice carried across the gulf of blue mist below them, seeming to reverberate against grated metal catwalk.

In the center of the chamber, Hurgun of the Stone still hovered, unmoving, surrounded by the spiral of blue white energy.  However, there was now a second figure orbiting the paralyzed geomancer.  It was a great ape frozen mid-leap with its huge hands balled together over the exposed multi-hued brain of its head as if to strike down on Hurgun of the Stone. But now he just went round and round very slowly, like a fly caught in the paper that was the time elemental.  It was Ming the Dakkon King. (3)   Every few moments the gorilla’s very essence seemed to wink in and out as the whole spiral pulsed.

“I guess he didn’t make it through, huh?” Bastian said.

“Do you think the demoness could succeed where he failed?” Roland asked.

“Let’s hope not,” Ratchis said, from where he and Kazrack stood ready to push back anyone who came through the portal.  He was certain the demoness would come through any moment.  “But if she can’t, can we expect to?”

“We have a different goal,” Martin replied. “Fixing the Modron Station.  Maybe then we won’t have to deal with whatever that is… Though, I am curious… Bastian, could you summon some kind of fiendish creature, something whose welfare we don’t have to concern ourselves with and sent it in there?  We see the ape frozen there, but I would like to see how it happens…”

Bastian agreed.  Ratchis grunted disapproval, but did not move to stop them. 

The warlock warrior began to chant and trace his circle in the air, but in the end the spell failed.

“Yeah, I thought that might happen,” Martin commented.  “When the _dismissal_ didn’t work, I thought summoning might not either; now we know.” (4)

The Keepers of the Gate waited there for a time.  The durations of their spells began to expire and as voices and other sounds began floating up to them from the mist below once again, they once again fell to arguing about what to do next.

*End of Session #95*
------------
(1) _Haste_

(2) _Suggestion_

(3) See Session #92

(4) See Session #93


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

So martin is close to finally casting the spell he has to cast from the book.  I'm looking forward to what that actually means.

GW


----------



## handforged

Your depiction of the succubus is quite amazingly graphic.  Sexy in all the ways that shouldn't be.  I think that the group did the best thing they could have at that point.

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

handforged said:
			
		

> Sexy in all the ways that shouldn't be.
> 
> ~hf





You're scaring me.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #96 (complete)*

“Change out some spells and prepare more of _analyze portal_,” Ratchis said to Martin the Green.

“It will take most of an hour,” Martin replied.

“I don’t think we can leave until we know where we are going,”  Ratchis said.  “We have waited here a long time, I am sure the portal has changed since we have been in here; especially if you consider the time we spent in the Air Room.”

Kazrack nodded his agreement, staring down at the mists below them. The mists below the grated platform they stood on swirled in tight circles that waved up and down vertiginously.

”Are we going to just stand around here all day?” Gunthar complained, as Martin sat on the cold grate to begin changing his spells. 

“Martin, do you know which spell you have to cast in the Modron Station?” Ratchis asked.

“No… Not yet,” Martin replied, annoyed.  He waved the half-orc off, and buried his nose in his spell book.

Some time later, the watch-mage cast his spell and announced that the portal they had come through now led to the Light Room, where the gates to the Beastlands, the Heavens and Anubis’ Realm were.

“You know we had to go this way no matter what,” Martin complained. “I doubt we could have made it across to the other portals leading out of here without risking disturbing the time elemental, and I don’t want to know what’d happen if someone fell down into those mists.”

“At least now we know where we are going,” Ratchis replied, and he led the way into the Light Room.  The others followed.  Martin the Green immediately hurried to the center of the room, was able to use the last moments of the _Analyze Portal_ spell to look at the other portals.  

“Entrance.  Dining Room. Earth Room.  Modron Station!” the watch-mage pointed to the way behind one of the screens where a painting hung.  He concentrated his vision to look through the portal, but found his view was blocked by a thick red velvet curtain that blocked off a small ten foot by ten foot area just beyond the portal.  The curtain seemed to hang on some kind of metal rod. 

The Keepers of Gate took some time to cast many defensive spells on each other, and Ratchis, Kazrack and Martin spread out some _Bull’s Strength_ and _Bear’s Endurance_.  They then passed through the gate, Roland leading the way in panther-form, cramming into the tiny curtained off section beyond.

There was a cacophony of mechanical sounds coming from beyond the curtain.  The was hissing and clanking and loud explosive sounds like farts followed by arrhythmic clicking.  There was a smell on the air like a mix of methane and grease, and the ceiling visible above the curtained area was made of shiny ceramic tiles.

“It sounds like there are a great number of modrons out there,” Martin whispered to the others.

“Perhaps you can use your spell of invisibility on someone to go have a look,” Kazrack suggested.  “I am not sure what the best course of action is if we run into more hostile modrons.”

“It will only last one minute. I’d rather save it.” Martin replied, and then he turned to Roland. “How about you use your house cat form to slip under the curtain and have a quick look around?”

The Bastite did just that, his long and lithe blue-black panther-form melting down into a tiny black cat that batted at the curtain with a paw and then made his way through. He had only been gone a few moments when he came hurrying back.

“I saw no modrons,” Roland voice issued from the tiny feline.  “There is some kind of wall of flesh.  It is hard to explain. It is like a great box with many different moving pieces, some of which are on bony legs.  It is that thing that is making the sounds and smells.  It is…uh, disgusting and disturbing…”

“Well, disgusting and disturbing doesn’t bother me,” Martin the Green replied, pulling the curtain aside to see for himself.  “It is the fighting and the killing I don’t like.”

Behind the curtain the chamber was filled with a great machine that was difficult to comprehend. It seemed to be made of flesh of all colors and of a consistency similar to that of modrons, but it was a collection of tubes and sinews and pumping muscles and fissures that dilated when gas was forcibly expelled through them.  There were bellows-like flaps of orange skin that rose and fell atop the thing, and in places it was propped up upon black bone-like legs that allowed for a crawl space beneath it.  The whole machine wound about the room making it into a sort of maze with narrow walkways between it and the outer wall, and in some places with other sections of the machine.

“I… I… uh… I don’t understand this thing,” Ratchis said stepping out into the chamber, looking around in awe.  “It seems like some kind living machine, right?”

“Yes,” Martin replied.  “It must be used to make or repair the modrons, but it is injured or is malfunctioning… Look!”  The watch-mage pointed to a great gash in the side of the thing’s fleshy side that bubbled with viscous oil-like red liquid, like greasy blood.

“What spell will you use to repair it?” Kazrack asked.

“I believe it is called ‘_Sculpt Flesh_’”(1) Martin said. “It is what we call a gray necromantic (2) spell.  It is only potentially corrupting depending on how it is used.”

“So using it in this way will not be a corruptive influence?” Kazrack asked.

“Normally, I think not, but since I must use the Book of Black Circles to cast the spell, and the book has its own influence, as we have all seen before.”

There was a sudden sound from the other side of the machine like something or someone painfully retching.

“Is this foul machine making that sound?” Sergio asked, covering his mouth with a kerchief.  “I told you Hurgun was not to be trusted.  I mean, look at this thing!  Have you ever seen anything so foul?”

It was decided that Martin the Green, Roland (who was back in panther-form) and Ratchis would go access the damage to the machine while the others waited near the portal they had come through.  The three of them walked around the machine to the right seeing a portion of it that appeared like stretchable skin covered in fine peach fuzz covering narrow ribs that breathed in and out.  They noticed one or two small tears in the skin there that Martin noted for when he would cast the spell. (3)

As they came around another set of curtains that certainly covered another portal out of the chamber, they saw a conical portion of the machine like a shiny snail shell.  There was another retching sound from behind them to left and a figure came crawling out from under that area of the machine.  It looked like a man, but its skin was a blubbery gray and black, with drooping melted features, and though it was naked it had no genetalia.  Its stubby fingers ended in black claws, and black bile dribbled over its triple chins.  They looked like the dead things they had seen when first passing through the dining room.  Gilbart had called them ‘dretches’. (4)

“Demon!” Ratchis warned, spinning around and raising his sword.

“Demons!” Martin corrected, seeing another of the things come out from around the conical end of the machine and another climbing around atop the skin covered ribs.

“Demons?” Where?!” Gunthar called out, tearing the curtain aside and stepping into the chamber with his swords drawn, looking around.

Kazrack hurried out past the Neergaardian and dove under a portion of the machine, crawling out to the other side to reach his companions.  He stood just in time to see a fourth dretch leap from the shadows of the machine, as Ratchis tore one in half with one might blow of his great sword.  It made a sound like an echoing belch and fell over to ooze black grease as its rubbery skin began to quickly dissolve.

One of the blubbery demons came around to get at Martin and Roland from the other side, so the watch-mage cast his _greater invisibility_ on the Bastite. The demon responded by belching out a green noxious cloud at the two of them.  However, both Martin and Roland were able to avoid the worse of it. Gunthar pulled himself up on to the machine to face the one up there, while another came out from under the machine to claw at Kazrack.

Roland, still invisible, leapt at the dretch near him and Martin, as the watch-mage took up a defensive posture as best he could.  The demon was forced back to avoid being grappled, but suffered deep and long scratches of the folds of its naked body.

Ratchis cut another down, but was surprised as another appeared above him atop the machine to belch down another _stinking cloud_.  The half-orc’s might lungs allowed him to resist the noxious vapors and hold his breath for a time.

Gunthar cut one down easily and then leapt atop the breathing ribbed area of the machine, stabbing the one that appeared above Ratchis.  However, one of the thin ribs cracked beneath his boot.

Bastian had moved to join the fray, but the narrow ways around the machine thwarted him, while Sergio remained by the curtain singing an encouraging song, but refraining from getting any closer to the fiends.

There was an ear-piercing screech as Kazrack drove his _fiendbane_ halberd into one of the dretchs and it fell to not rise again, quickly beginning to dissolve as the others had.  Gunthar pushed the demon above down between Roland and Ratchis and they quickly finished it between the two of them.

The fight was over, and they all took a moment to catch their breaths as the strange machine continued to sputter and fart and cough and clatter.

The Keepers of the Gate walked the rest of the way around the machine, and Sergio hurried to join them, going on about how the dretchs proved that Hurgun was up to no good and should not be trusted.

Around the conical shell-like corner of the machine they saw a red end of flesh striated with black that twisted into a huge puckered sphincter that that hung over a space in the floor on the left.  It was dripping yellow viscous fluid from a tear near the hole.  Just beyond it was metal platform attached to the machine that was about six feet high.  Steps curved up to it, and some kind of metal chute grafted onto the top of the machine was reached from up there.

“I think this is the beginning…” Martin pointed to the chute, and then to the sphincter. “And the end of the machine.”

There was a tridrone motionless and flat on its triangular bottom atop the platform.  Another modron, this one a spherical monodrone, walked back and forth at the base of the stairs, clicking randomly.

The Keepers of the Gate spread out a bit to keep watch while Martin made a mental tally of the places that machine was broken and cut. 

“Wish me luck,” the watch-mage said, as he walked up onto the platform and sat with his legs folded before him.  He drew the great book from his pack, running his hand over the black oil skin bag.  He took a deep breath and whispered a prayer. “Isis, guard my soul against the power I must now wield…” 

Ratchis moved to the bottom of the steps and the monodrone clicked confusedly and took up its pacing nearby.

Hoping Kazrack’s _protection from evil_ might help lend him some aid as well, Martin drew out the black book from its slick second skin, feeling the deep grooves of the blackened skin that served as its cover.  He cast the oilskin bag aside and lay the book on his lap, tracing the raised black concentric metal circles pressed into it.

“Show me the spell that will fix this modron machine,” Martin the Green said aloud, taking his hand off the book.  The cover opened of its own accord and the thick yellowed pages began to flip rapidly, stopping at a pair of pages filled with arcane sigils and formulas like none the watch-mage had ever seen.  He looked it over for a moment, tracing with the tip of his finger without touching the actual page.  The runes were traced in blood, and though it seemed long dried in most places, in some places the blood seemed to ooze fresh.

“_Alter Reality…_” Martin whispered, his lower lip shivering. For a moment he thought about how much more than this machine might be fixed, but he closed his eyes and spoke aloud again. “No. Show me the spell of sculpting flesh…”

The pages began to flip forward again, and then flipped back to a page with several detailed diagrams of rearranging facial features and closing wounds.  It was the right spell, and Martin instinctively knew that these spells were permanent scrolls.  He would be able to cast many times himself without their ever disappearing from the pages as long as he paid the price of the tome.

“_Mutatio Liquefactam Carnifactus!_” Martin chanted and stood, letting the book drop to the platform. He clutched his chest for a moment as there was the crackle of dark energies about him, and he felt his constitution weaken. (5) 

“Martin! Are you alright?” Ratchis put his foot upon the steps to start to climb, but the watch-mage stood straight up and held out his hand. Martin walked down the steps and Ratchis stepped out of his way. He reached out with hands and the flesh of the machine became like clay to his touch. He smoothed over a great gash in one spot and then walked over to do a smaller one where a tube-like connection of bony material wove in and out of the sides and top of it.

There were four places where he affected repairs.  As he worked the flesh to carefully close the rents in the machine, he considered whether he’d have enough time to use the spell to fix his face.  There was an insistent feeling that there was _plenty_ of time, almost like a second voice in his head trying to reassure him. Suspicious, Martin finished the repairs anyway, and finally he turned to the others with his hand hanging over his own face.  

“I think  I may have time to…” He brought his finger closer to his face and then stopped.  Less than a moment later, the spell’s energy was gone.  

“I was going to use the remaining power to fix my face,”  Martin said to the other sadly.  The great festering crease ran from beneath his left eye, down past his mouth.  He could feel bits of it liquefying and dripping as he talked.  The side of his nose felt dry and cracked to the touch, like it might flake off in one great piece.  “But then it seemed too easy… I mean, I shouldn’t use the book’s power for my own benefit, however small… It could… It could lead to a bad path.  I didn’t like that the Book was encouraging me to do it.”

Kazrack walked over and reaching up patted his companion on the shoulder nodding wordlessly.

The great living machine shuddered for a moment and then all the strange sounds died down to be replaced by a hum that ran from one end of the machine to the other.  Finally, it was quiet.

“Well, I think that should do it,” Martin said, his shoulders sagging.

“Do what?” Kazrack asked.  “I still am not sure what you accomplished.”

The watch-mage pointed to the monodrone that was walking back and forth aimlessly, and then to the tridrone atop the platform.  “We need to put those in the machine.”  He then pointed to the chute by the platform.  “And hope for the best.”

While Martin put the book away again, Ratchis hefted the tridrone over his head and dropped it into the chute.  He noted it was missing one of its legs and two of its arms.  There was a sound like a clunking shuffle.  He then herded the spherical monodrone into the chute as well.

The machine began to hum and then there was a rhythmic churning that reverberated back and forth in the front part of it.

“And now we can move on and destroy the Book,” Martin said, turning to the others.

“Perhaps we should return to the Control Room,” Kazrack suggested. 

“The Earth Room,” Ratchis disagreed.  “The Audience Chamber.  We need to gather the broken modrons and feed them to this thing.”

Bastian nodded.

*End of Session #96*

-----------------------------------------------------------------
*Notes:*
(1) You can read about the _Sculpt Flesh_ spell by clicking here.

(2) In Aquerra necromantic magic is categorized as either ‘white’, ‘gray’ or ‘black’.  You can read more about it here.

(3) You can see the layout of the Modron Station behind the sblock” [sblock]
	

	
	
		
		

		
			





[/sblock]

(4) See Session #93

(5) *DM’s Note*: Martin suffered a permanent point of Constitution drain.  However, he also realized in that moment that he need only pay that price once, later he might cast spells with greater costs paid by others, whether either by coercion, trickery or threat.


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## Manzanita

Wow.  Well that wasn't so bad.  I'm glad.  I like Martin, & I hate to see him suffer.  (I'm not really rat-bastard DM material!)  I hope he can get rid of the book and have some semblence of a normal life afterwards.

I'll be interested to read the DM commentary.  What were you thinking when you originally did that Osirus ceremony.  You saw an opportunity, I guess, and went for it.  You knew eventually Martin would need to do this spell on this machine?


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## Gold Roger

> “Well, disgusting and disturbing doesn’t bother me,” Martin the Green replied, pulling the curtain aside to see for himself. “It is the fighting and the killing I don’t like.”




Somehow this stuck out to me as a great statement. Of course it's quite appropiate for a guy whose face is coming off.

Also it's good to hear that I'm not the only one whose Dretches belch out their stinking clouds.


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## Pyske

Thank you, sir, may I have another?

Nice update, as usual.  I'm looking forward to the conclusion...


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## Gold Roger

I've got a question that just struck me:

The prospect that one of the PC's could have died in the maze sounds quite true. Did you have any "emergency plan" to introduce new PC's/revive dead ones? Any plans for the case of a TPK?


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## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> I'll be interested to read the DM commentary.




I am not sure I have the energy or inclination to do the DM Commentaries anymore - at least not in the written out essay mode, but as always I love answering any questions you guys have in as much detail as I can.



			
				Manzanita said:
			
		

> What were you thinking when you originally did that Osirus ceremony.  You saw an opportunity, I guess, and went for it.  You knew eventually Martin would need to do this spell on this machine?




_“I shall retrieve the Book of Black Circles from the Brotherhood of the Lost, cast one spell from it and then destroy it, or forfeit my life.”_

When I came up with those words to be spoken by/through Martin the Green I had no idea what the spell would be that he would have to cast or how the Book of Black Circles would be destroyed.

The Book of Black Circles was just a note in my DM's Campaign notebook that was something like "_Marciosias' Book - Knowledge of seven foul necromancers. . ._"

I just knew I wanted to link up Martin's deal with what I was coming up with for Beorth (remember him? ) in terms of the monks, so that two player characters would have a similar motivation that would serve to bind the party together.

At one point I thought the spell from the book would be used to open the way to Hurgun's Maze, but I dropped that idea once I started thinking more about what Hurgun's Maze was like and the role of the modrons within it (which will be explained a little better in the next installment) and eventually I liked the idea of the spell being a "gray" spell - something he could potentially abuse, but not something he might just refuse to cast if he deemed it inherently evil to do so.


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## el-remmen

Gold Roger said:
			
		

> Also it's good to hear that I'm not the only one whose Dretches belch out their stinking clouds.




How else would they do it?


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## el-remmen

Pyske said:
			
		

> I'm looking forward to the conclusion...




So am I.

Seven sessions to go + a postscript involving the recent events of the reunion session (of which there is supposed to be at least one more within the next month or two).


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## el-remmen

Gold Roger said:
			
		

> I've got a question that just struck me:
> 
> The prospect that one of the PC's could have died in the maze sounds quite true. Did you have any "emergency plan" to introduce new PC's/revive dead ones? Any plans for the case of a TPK?




This is the climactic adventure. 

If someone died (and someone _does_ die) then that would be it.  They would be welcome to play Gunthar or Sergio, or one of the other NPCs that might appear (if possible) - but short of the other PCs finding resurrecting magic (not likely in Aquerra, but what place more likely than Hurgun's Maze?) - a dead character is dead.

Actually, there is another exception to this, but I cannot say what it is without spoiling, so I will tittilate with that. . . 

As for a TPK: It would simply be the end of the campaign.  They failed to fix Hurgun's Maze.  Story over for them.  By this time we knew we were moving on to play Mutants & Masterminds, so we would have done that, and the next time I ran an Aquerra campaign, their new characters might one day hear rumors of what has been happening in Derome-Delem (the problems greatly advanced, of course), that is, if they even cared.


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## Richard Rawen

Really enjoying this, and I agree with Manzanita, I was glad to see that Martin did not suffer too badly... though the temptation to 'fix his face' must have been tremendous!
Great build up... looking forward to see how this affects the modrons.


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## handforged

I am also greatly impressed that Martin was able to fx the Modron Station with such apparent ease.  Although the temptation for him to fix his face would surely have been great, I don't think that even your players would have been able to not meta-game enough to see that it would be a VERY bad thing to carry out.

~hf


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## el-remmen

You know, I don't think it felt that easy at the time.

Maybe Martin's player will come in and sound off on the matter, but as you will see soon enough - the casting of the spell was the easy part - destroying the Book of Black Circles turns out to be trickier.


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## Ciaran

If I recall correctly, I moved the Martin miniature around the map of the modron station on a round-by-round basis, and there was some question of whether I'd be able to finish the job before the spell duration expired.  And the reason Martin didn't fix his face wasn't because he felt it would be an abuse of the spell.  The book kept whispering that he could take a moment away from fixing the modron station to do so, but he didn't want to risk wasting any of the spell duration on his face, in case that meant the spell expired before the modron station was fully repaired.


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## el-remmen

The notes of that session (written by Ciaran) had the following:

- Martin repairs Modron Station in four place.
- Considers enough duration to fix face; reconsiders

There is also a quote: "I think I shouldn't do it", right after that which I took as referring to using the spell.  Though honestly, my memory is hazy.


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## el-remmen

Okay, I went back and changed it some, so it was compromise between Martin's player's recollection and my original interpretation of the notes.

This is the part I changed:


> There were four places where he affected repairs.  As he worked the flesh to carefully close the rents in the machine, he considered whether he’d have enough time to use the spell to fix his face.  There was an insistent feeling that there was _plenty_ of time, almost like a second voice in his head trying to reassure him. Suspicious, Martin finished the repairs anyway, and finally he turned to the others with his hand hanging over his own face.
> 
> “I think  I may have time to…” He brought his finger closer to his face and then stopped.  Less than a moment later, the spell’s energy was gone.
> 
> “I was going to use the remaining power to fix my face,”  Martin said to the other sadly.  The great festering crease ran from beneath his left eye, down past his mouth.  He could feel bits of it liquefying and dripping as he talked.  The side of his nose felt dry and cracked to the touch, like it might flake off in one great piece.  “But then it seemed too easy… I mean, I shouldn’t use the book’s power for my own benefit, however small… It could… It could lead to a bad path.  I didn’t like that the Book was encouraging me to do it.”
> 
> Kazrack walked over and reaching up patted his companion on the shoulder nodding wordlessly.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #97 (part I)* (1)

“It is all about the modrons,” Bastian said. “They maintained this place, so if they were broken and the machine was broken and Hurgun was not around to fix the machine and thus fix them, then that explains why the Maze began to malfunction.”

“Makes sense…” Martin nodded.  “So we should wait and see what happens with the modrons we put in the machine (2) before moving on.”

Looking bored, Sergio drew a small file from his vest pocket and began to push back his cuticles with the tip of it.

The living machine was still throbbing and there was a collection of whooshes followed by a sound like a crank being turned at a high speed.  It let out a blast of blue steam from one corner where some kind of kelp-like fins wavered back and forth in a tall box.

It was nearly twenty minutes later that the red and black sphinctered end of the machine began to gurgle and spurt as it stretched out to many times its normal size.  Finally, a tridrone was squeezed out.  It plopped down to the ceramic tiled floor and clicked twice and turned, seeming to take in the Keepers of the Gate.

“Modron Station repaired,” it announced in its cold flat voice, and it turned to make its ways through a nearby curtain and through a portal to one of the other great chambers of Hurgun’s Maze.

“Martin, perhaps you should converse with it?” Kazrack suggested.

“Or…” Roland purred.  “We can just follow it.”

“I agree with Roland,” the dwarf said.

“What a refreshing change!” Roland replied, and he took off through the curtain.  The rest of the Keepers of the Gate hurried to follow.  The appeared back in the Dining Room, which Gilbart had led them through the first time they went to the guest quarters. (3)

There were several round tables surround by chairs, and two long rectangular tables, one a third longer than the other.  There was a cloth screen on a track that could be pulled to divide the great chamber into smaller, more intimate eating situations.  In the top right hand corner was a raised area with one smaller round table with three chairs.  The walls were lined with long low cabinets that held silverware and dishware of many different styles and cultures.  The lacquer of the wood paneled walls shone in the light of the crystal and silver chandeliers that hung low over the long tables.  Gold lanterns and tapestries decorated the raised area.

However, the tables were cracked and many chairs were smashed and cast aside.  There two injured tridrones fighting three of the blubbery dretches.  There was a monodrone lying motionless on its side, and another trailing its pus-like ichor behind it, as it dragged its legless body with its arms.  Occasionally, it would lose its grip and roll over helplessly, and have to steady itself before continuing.

Kazrack ran right into their midst, impaling one of the quivering gray and black fiends on his magical halberd and flinging it across the room, sending cracked plates and loose silverware to skitter the marble floor.  It did not get back up.

Meanwhile, the other two turned away from their modron foes and charged at Ratchis, who hurried to meet them sword in hand.  He knocked one back with a mighty blow, sending it flying into a group of wooden chairs.  Bastian hurried in to flank the other, while Gunthar moved to cut down the one Ratchis had sent flying.  A swift flick of his swords and the remaining dretch’s head was flying across the room to land atop a table with a disgusting pop.

The tridrone they had been following disappeared through the portal on the right.

They decided to gather up the dead and wounded modrons and bring them back to the Modron Station and feed them to the machine.

“The Modron Station is repaired,” Ratchis told one, and it did not need persuasion to make its way in that direction.  Back in the Modron Station, after the two tridrones climbed in themselves, Ratchis and Kazrack fed the machine the modrons in one at a time (and the torn limbs they had also collected) waiting a full minute between each.  The machine began to hum and throb once more.

“If we hurry we may still be able to find that first fixed tridrone,” Martin said, and do the Keepers of the Gate, hurried back through the portal into the Dining Room, and then stepped through the portal they had seen the repaired modron step through.

“Outsider! Fiend! Intruder! Outsider! Fiend! Intruder!”  They heard the cold voice of many modrons saying the words over and over sometimes in unison, but occasionally in a disturbing dissonance as some ended abruptly.  They were back in the Audience Chamber, also known as the Earth Room, beneath the carved stone tiered seats that made up the majority of the room.  Shuffling and honking echoed around the chamber, and above it all was the voice of Ora-Amira-El shrieking with anger.  “Tell me!  Tell me!” she was saying.  This was followed by the sounds tearing flesh and crunching bone.

They had come through on the left side of the balcony, the gate out to the central area of the chamber was open, as were the gates that lead led up into the seats.

“Lords and Lady, protect me from the evil of this demoness, and all else that might fall short of your judgment, and protect my companions, so long as they remain close to me,” Kazrack intoned quietly, casting his spell. He moved to the edge if the open gate, and Roland was close on his heels, still in panther-form.  They could see the four-armed quadruple breasted demoness squeezing the ten-eyed decaton in her arms atop the balcony.

“I don’t think we’re ready for this,” Roland growled, but followed with a spell calling to Bast to grant him a _shield of faith_.  The tiers were strewn with modrons, lying motionless and oozing their yellow pus blood, but others were gathered fearfully in corners, or moving in pointless circles, spinning uselessly, or dashing about chaotically, some whirring arhythmically.

Ratchis moved up to join Roland and Kazrack, casting _divine favor_ on himself.  “Kazrack, do you see any reason to fight now, or should we flee?” He stepped to the opposite side of the gate, craning his neck to look up at the fight.  Bastian joined him. Martin moved up as well, casting _mage armor_ on himself.  Gunthar actually stepped out into the chamber, drawing both swords and putting his back to the wall.

The decaton spun and managed to break free of Ora-Amira-El’s grip and floated across to the lowest tier across from where the party stood. A pentadrone came blasting up to the balcony, spinning its five limbs, while expelling gas from beneath it to keep itself aloft.  The demoness laughed and tore into the thing, sending it collapsing back down to the audience chamber floor.  She looked down and noticed the Keepers of the Gate for the first time..

“Why if it isn’t my favorite killer and his band of pathetic friends,” she greeted, waving cheerfully with her lower right hand. “Do you have a preference as to which of them you’d like to kill this time?” Martin felt a presence try to push its way into his mind, but he fought it off, unsure what it was. (4)

“Bastian, Gunthar, stay close to me so your weak minds won’t be vulnerable to her evil control,” Kazrack said.

Ora-Amira-El moved to leap off the balcony and down to the ground level, but slammed into some invisible barrier and fell back without grace.

Gunthar laughed and Kazrack joined him.

“Heal the decaton if you can,” Martin announced to the party’s priests. “The _wall of force_ must be its doing.  It may be the only one who can stand up to her…” And with that he cast his _alter self_ spell and his features melted and stretched and in a moment he was back in his winged half-draconic lizardfolk form.

Roland leapt up deftly to the decaton, it turned to look at the Bastite, and its eyes were red and bulging in its globe-like head  “She’s contained! Let’s just get out of here while we can!” Roland suggested as he nuzzled against the chief modron to heal it some with a _cure moderate wounds_ spell.

“Scaredy cat!” Gunthar laughed at Roland.

The decaton made a buzzing sound that swelled into a pained bleat, but seemed unable to speak.

“Modron Station is repaired,” a tridrone announced from the corner of the tiered seats.  It was likely the same one they had been following, but who could tell them apart?

Ratchis and Kazrack ran towards the tunnel beneath the opposite tiers, but while the half-orc hurried to turn up the narrow steps up to the tiers on that side, the dwarf stopped to guard the passage and see if he could get a glimpse of the demoness.

Martin the Green hurried to follow the decaton as well. He flapped the stubby wings of his new form and landed next to it.  The decaton turned its great spherical head and acknowledged the watch-mage with first one eye and then another, and then still another.  Martin felt something push at his mind once again, and this time he let down his defenses.

“You are Martin the Green.  You are the Keepers of the Gate.  You should be in the guest quarters. You… You… Whirrr… Danger is loose in the Maze,” Martin heard the polytonal voice of the decaton in his mind, as the strange creature made a strange clicking humming sound.

“Great Decaton of Ptah!  We have repaired the Modron Station and wish to aid you in expelling this fiend before it can take control of the Maze,” Martin replied.  “Master Gilbart is missing once again.  Tell us what we might do to aid you.”

“Repairs to the Modron Station. Self-diagnostic reveals motor and. ..  Whirr-click-whirr. . . troubles," the decaton said. "Gather my charges so that they may be returned to the Modron Station and re-assimilated.  We serve Hurgun of the Stone. Not Ptah. "

Gunthar and Bastian followed after Ratchis, while Kazrack waited below not sure which was the best way to go.

Above on the balcony, another pentadrone has made its way to Ora-Amira-El, but its blows could not break through her fiendish defenses.

Martin floated back down to the ground level and called out to his companions.  “It wants us to help it collect the modrons!”  He cast _bull’s strength_ upon himself and began to drag a corpse away.  “It seems to be damaged as well.”

Ratchis appeared among the tiers and Kazrack called up to him.  “Throw some down and we can start moving them out!” Kazrack ran over to a spot below Ratchis, while Bastian and Roland hurried over to support him.

Martin felt another force come into his mind, and this one he could not resist if he wanted.  Ora-Amira-El’s voice came echoing into his mind.  “Do you think your pitiable alliance with that freak will help you?  I will track each of you down and I will kill you all and each of these stupid creatures!”

The decaton kicked one of the dead modrons up on the tiers down to the lower level beside Kazrack and the dwarf was startled.

“Everyone beside Martin and Roland start collecting these things,” Ratchis said, lowering a monodrone to Kazrack.  “Martin and Roland, watch our backs!”

Soon Bastian and Gunthar were up there as well, kicking dead and dying modrons of the tiers to bounce down around Kazrack.  Sometimes they’d get caught on the edge of one of the tiers, forcing them to run down to dislodge it and throw it the rest of the way.

Sergio had climbed up to the tiers on the side the party had enter from and began to push modrons down as well, cautiously looking over at the balcony where the demoness slammed the invisible wall with all four of her fists. 

She laughed from the behind the invisible wall and ceased her effort to free herself.  Martin flew across to the other side of the chamber to push one a duodrone down to the bottom level. 

Roland (who leapt back down) and Kazrack began dragging piles of the modrons in the direction they had entered from.

“Gunthar! You should come down here and help me,” Kazrack called. “She may attempt to control your mind and thus should be near me so my gods can protect you… for they are… merciful, even to such as you.”

Gunthar spat.  “Why don’t you wear a leash so I can hold you by it, Stumpy?  Then you’d never be too far away!”  He laughed and chucked a monodrone over the side and then leapt after it.

“The _wall of force_ will only hold for one minute more,” the decaton told Martin. “Bring those collected to the Modron Station.  We shall attempt to bind her once again.”

Martin relayed this to the others and everyone hurried down to the bottom level to make piles of modrons to push out of the chamber.  Ratchis laid his great hyenadon skin down and rolled several onto it, including a very large quadrone he had found shredded in one corner.

“He said the cubes are the most important ones to grab,” Martin continued to relay. “And then the pyramids and then the flat ones. The round ones are least important.  We need the greatest number of integers re-assimilated.”

“What does that mean?” Roland asked.  

“They are based on a rigid hierarchy of operations,” Martin began.  “The more complex their shape the more total energy of the collective they represent…”

“Enough!  It’s gibberish! I’m sorry I asked,” Roland responded.  He had changed back into human form to more easily manipulate the many modrons.

Martin took flight again to get a glimpse of Ora-Amira-El up on the balcony.  “Drat! I don’t know if she is invisible or went back down into the hall below the balcony, but she is not to be seen.”

“Be wary!” Kazrack said, continuing to drag modrons towards the portal back to the Dining Room.  The others followed him.  Bastian and Roland were dragging the skin holding five modrons, while Ratchis had a monodrone under one arm and dragged a tridrone behind him.

Soon, the Keepers of the Gate (along with Sergio, of course) had made it back through Dining Room and were back in Modron Station with its humming.  The decaton remained behind.  Two other damaged tridrones were here, moving to throw themselves down the chute into the machine, and soon Ratchis was chucking in the ones they had dragged into the chamber.  The machine was humming and throbbing and squelching and farting, as it broke down and reworked the modrons to squeeze out more.   

Three came out in quick succession, and announced they would be exploring the Maze in “retrival mode” to bring more modrons to be repaired. Two walked out through the portal nearest the platform, while the other walked all the way around left by the opposite one.

There were still many modrons to be fed to the machine when Ora-Amira-El stepped through the portal the two tridrones had just stepped out of.
------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	This session was played on Saturday, September 10th, 2005.

(2)	See Session #96

(3)	See Session #93

(4)	*DM’s Note:* Martin had to make a will save (DC 16).


----------



## Gold Roger

You know those vilains you just want to "kill, KILL, *KILL*!!!"?

Yeah, that demoness is one of those.


----------



## Manzanita

It's interesting that she's turned into the main villian, since the party wouldn't even have met her if they hadn't smashed that mirror of life trapping.  How do you recking this would have gone if the party hadn't entered that chamber, or had been more wary and not been caught in the mirror, El Remmen?


----------



## el-remmen

Gold said:
			
		

> You know those vilains you just want to "kill, KILL, KILL!!!"?
> 
> Yeah, that demoness is one of those.




I think the players felt the same way.     Next installment is final confrontation between the KotG and Ora-Amira-El.  So stay tuned for the outcome. . .



			
				Manzanita said:
			
		

> It's interesting that she's turned into the main villian, since the party wouldn't even have met her if they hadn't smashed that mirror of life trapping.  How do you recking this would have gone if the party hadn't entered that chamber, or had been more wary and not been caught in the mirror, El Remmen?




Well, firstly I was counting on PC penchant for getting into trouble to insure that eventually she would get out of the mirror, whether by breaking it or randomly letting people out.

Even if that hadn't happened I had a couple of other options:
a) if the diplomacy with the decaton had gone better they might have learned its speculation that Gilbart was in the mirror - so they might have mucked around with it then, b) someone else running around the Maze might have accidentally (or purposefully did it). "What?" you ask.  "Other people in the Maze?"   

But also, I was totally willing for that to never come up and they could have just explored more at their leisure to figure out what to do and eventually collect the modrons as they are doing at this point.  But as we will see in later installments, there are a few more guardians in Hurgun's Maze to be feared, aside from the modrons.  The party still hasn't found them.  

There are 16 rooms in Hurgun's Maze.  At this point of the adventure they had only been in 8, Enrance Room, Earth Room, Hell, Dining Room, Air Room, Light Room, Control Room and Modron Station.  They have heard of 2 others, Dark Room and Chambers.  That leaves 6 rooms unaccounted for.


----------



## handforged

These are the best updates ever, when everything goes very well until the very end and then the suspense just starts to boil inside me.  I truly cannot wait until the next episode!

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

handforged said:
			
		

> I truly cannot wait until the next episode!
> 
> ~hf




Well, you are going to have to wait until later tonight or tomorrow some time.  

It is all written up, I just have to give it a quick proof-read.


----------



## el-remmen

*6 sessions to go. . .*

*Session #97 (part ii)*

“Hello, Martin!” Ora-Amira-El smiled, showing her pointed teeth behind her full red lips.  She tore the curtain aside and stepped towards the watch-mage.  “Come here, sweetie, and give us a kiss.” She opened her arms, and Martin the Green felt magic wash over him, but he was able to shake it off and stepped away a thin shriek of fear issuing from his lips.

“I do not like the sound of that voice.  Let me drown it out!” Sergio said, from under the platform.  He lifted his voice in an encouraging song to boost the band’s morale.

Bastian, rectangular duodrone in hand, hurried up the steps to the platform to toss it into the machine, while Ratchis ran past him at full speed.  The half-orc ducked his head and tried to push the demoness back through the portal, but she knocked him aside with a claw as he approached, drawing blood.  And as he struggled to move back and get in a defensive position, she stepped up and clawed him twice more.  Ratchis was barely able to leap back to avoid all four of her blows and get grabbed up into her arms as he had been once before. (1)  Kazrack rushed forward to stand by his friend, bringing his halberd to bear.

Roland called to Bast to _bless_ his companions, as Sergio’s song rang out and filled their hearts with courage, and Bastian tossed the duodrone into the machine and began to look around for more modrons to grab before the demoness could stop them.

“Martin! The cube!” Ratchis said, but the watch-mage was way ahead of him, having _the Wurfel Kraft_ in his hands.

“Recovered nicely…” Ora-Amira-El began. “But let’s see how you recover from this!”  She snarled as the _cube of force_ surrounded the three Keepers of the Gate before her claws could reach them.

“Strike her through the cube!” Martin suggested, (2) as Gunthar came around the corner of the machine, swords drawn, from where he had been poking about thinking there might be treasure around to be had.

“Martin, ya dumb bastard!” Gunthar swore.  “We aren’t all in there!”

The demoness easily blocked the mighty blows of Ratchis’ dragon-hilted great sword, and flapping her wings, took to the air, landing atop the Modron Station machine.  It groaned in protest of her weight atop it, and for a second some of its vents squelched sharply.

Kazrack side-stepped and cast _shield of faith_ on himself.

“_Light shine a bit of your essence to blind this fiend to the beauty of our world_,” Bastian chanted, casting his _flare_ spell in his strange dwarven dialect.  But the spell dissipated like a winter breath.  Martin deactivated the cube and quickly cast his spell of _greater invisibility_ on Ratchis.  As Gunthar shifted from foot to foot, watching the demoness unsure of which way to go, Roland joined Bastian on the platform, and Sergio continued his song, Ratchis grabbed hold of the sphinctered end of the living machine and began to climb atop it.

The Friar of Nephthys looked up in time to see the demoness take flight again, landing beside Kazrack.  The sound of her blows against the breast of his platemail echoed over the sound of the still churning machine.  The dwarf grunted and swung his weapon with such abandon that he left himself open to the succubus.  Luckily, however, the demoness was so eager to deal a killing blow, she also overextended herself and had to draw back her hands to keep her balance. (3)

Martin stepped over to the dwarf and cast another _improved invisibility_ and Kazrack disappeared.

“Hey you nasty whore from the lower depths!” Gunthar taunted her even as he withdrew close to the corner of the machine.  “Come sit on this c*ck!” He shook his long sword in front of him suggestively.  Sweat plastered his golden locks to the side of his stubble strewn face.

Ora-Amira-El took a step in the direction of the Neergaardian, but cocked her head and turned around as she heard someone approach.  She swung out with a claw, and though invisible, Ratchis felt the sharp pain across his chest where it struck him.  He moved to one side, but right into her next blow and his grunt was echoed by her laugh.   Kazrack thrust his halberd at her, but she side-stepped and barely managed to block it.  She spun with great speed and reached out in both directions.  Ratchis cried out again, but Kazrack ducked and got within her reach, and she could not stop two hard thrusts to her chest and stomach.  

Steaming blood splattered down one the dwarf from the two deep wounds, and for a second it floated there where it had landed on him.  

Martin the Green dove past the melee and hid behind the torn curtain near the portal. Gunthar ran over and stood in front of the watch-mage, watching the demoness struggle against her two invisible foes.  Another set of magic words from Martin, and there were three invisible foes, as Gunthar was also enchanted by the dweomer.

“It’s about time you did something to help me out,” Gunthar complained.  “I’m the best fighter in the group and always have to carry everyone else’s weight in a fight.”

“Shut up, Gunthar and get in there,” Martin tried to push him, but could no longer see where the Neergaardian was.

Sergio continued to sing and Roland and Bastian hung back, unsure of what to do.

The demoness screamed in pain and frustration as she felt repeated heavy blows from Ratchis and Kazrack, her wounds sizzling where the dwarf’s _fiendbane_ halberd struck her.  Gunthar got into the fight in time to stab deep into her calf as she took to the air again, unable to fend off the unseen attacks.  Ratchis and Kazrack also drew more fiendish blood as she fled. (4)

“After her!” Kazrack yelled, hurrying up the stairs to the platform for an easier climb onto the machine, for this was where Ora-Amira-El had fled to.  Gunthar, did not hesitate and began to climb up onto the Modron Station machine.  But Ratchis walked over carefully, quietly casting _cure serious wounds_ upon himself.

“I think we will have to finish this another time,” the demoness said and she took to the air again, diving through the far portal. 

Kazrack leapt back down and took off in that direction.  Gunthar followed, but Ratchis ran across the top of the machine.  Sergio hearing them go by, stopped his song and cast _haste_.

“Now go finish her!” the bard said, gesturing to the portal.

Satisfied that the others had the demoness well in hand, Bastian scooped up another duodrone and fed it to the machine.

Roland changed to panther form and took off for the portal with Martin close behind him. The Bastitie, stopped at the portal and moved aside.  Ratchis leapt deftly off the machine over Martin’s head and through the portal.  The watch-mage stepped through right behind him.

This chamber was not much a chamber at all.  Instead it was a stained wood paneled hallway ten feet wide that ran perpendicular to the portal.  There were no apparent doors into the center section. And the hall was lit by dim ambient light, like many of the chambers in Hurgun’s Maze.

Martin the Green barely avoided the claws of the demoness as he came through the other side.  She was looming to his left, so he stepped to the right.  She snarled as she raised an arm to block the invisible blow of Ratchis, and then took off down the hall to the left, as Gunthar and Sergio appeared through the portal.

Gunthar and Ratchis took off after her, their spell-induced speed keeping them on her heels.  Martin the Green was not that far behind either, though Sergio took his time.  As they sped around the corner, they noticed that the wood panels gave way to a short angled inner hallway wall that was decorated with a tall stone archway that did not seem to lead anywhere.  Within it was a plain wall of dressed stone marked with the rune of Hurgun of the Stone. (5) (6)

There was a trail of slick gore on the hardwood floor left behind by the fleeing fiend.

Ora-Amira-El spun around as she reached another portal, leaping back and forth to avoid more blows from Ratchis and Gunthar.  The Neergaardian invisibly stepped between the demoness and the adjacent portal.

“You know you cannot defeat me!” she said to Gunthar, her voice becoming a sweet and enticing thing.  “Just delay your friends so they won’t get hurt…”

Gunthar spat and drove his sword forward.  Noticing it at the last moment, she turned away right into the point of Ratchis’ greatsword, and in a flash of green steaming blood a great wound appeared in her back where the invisible sword came out the other end.  The succubus fell to her knees.  “This isn’t how it was supposed to happen,” she croaked, and Gunthar brought his sword across with all his might, nearly cleaving the head from her body as she had already began to transform and shrink down to the battered and bloodied body of a naked girl of about thirteen years of age.

Kazrack came rushing around the corner, accompanied by Roland.  Sergio peeked around as well.

“It may be a trick! Do not be fooled!” Ratchis warned and brought his sword down to cut the corpse’s head off.  

Roland padded over and cast _detect magic_, but the only thing that radiated on the body were the three studs still piercing the girl’s tongue. (7)  Gunthar cut them free with a dagger, and Kazrack collected them into an empty glass vial.

The Keepers of the Gate took a moment to collect their breath.

“We actually did it,” Martin sighed, disbelief in his voice.

“Of course, we did,” Gunthar retorted as he and Ratchis and Kazrack became visible again.

“Teamwork and planning,” Kazrack said.  “It was good use of your spells of _invisibility_, as much as I hate to admit that arcane magics are what won us the day.”

Ratchis wrapped the corpse and head in a blanket and tying it up, toss it over his shoulder.  “We need to find a place to burn this, just to be safe.”

“I wonder if that really killed her,” Martin speculated.

“Whatever do you mean?” Kazrack asked.

“Some powerful fiends can only be killed permanently on their home plane.  She might have long ago possessed this girl’s body…” Martin explained. “It might be that one day she will find her way back to Aquerra, though if my study of such things is correct she must wait 99 year before she can leave it again.”

“I’ll be dead by then,” Ratchis said.  “It will be someone else’s problem.”

”If my Lords and Lady will that I should live to my middle age, I will yet be among the living,” Kazrack said. “And if I must slay her again, I shall.”

“You didn’t slay her, Snuffles did…” Gunthar smiled.

“We all did it together,” Ratchis replied.

“Uh, where’s Bastian?” Roland asked.

A quick casting of [I[analyze portal[/I] showed Martin that the rooms had moved since they came into this strange square-shaped hall.  The portal adjacent to where they slew Ora-Amira-El led to the Earth Room, the portal they had come through no longer led to the Modron Station, but to the Dining Room.  The other two portals led to Hell and the Dark Room.

“Bastian could be lost in the Maze!” Roland exclaimed.

“Relax… He’s probably still feeding modrons to the machine,” Ratchis said.  “Which we need him to do… Let’s hurry and go into the Dining Room before Martin’s spell expires. It is the most innocuous of rooms, and from there we might be able to reach the Modron Station.”

“Now that I have cast the spell from the Book of Black Circles, I need to go to the Dark Room…” Martin said dejectedly. (8)

“I know,” Ratchis replied.  “But not yet…”

The Keepers of the Gate went through the portal into the Dining Room, and as they hoped, one of the portals from there led back to the Modron Station, so they hurried that way, where they found Bastian doing exactly what Ratchis had guessed.

They finished feeding the non-functioning modrons to the machine, and soon some more were squeezed out and began to spread out through the Maze.

“Perhaps there will be a cascading effect,” Roland speculated.  “As they go out and tell others to come here for repairs, more and more will be fixed and the Maze will begin to function properly again… Whatever that means…”

“It means the decaton will be able to move the Maze through the planes and deep into the Plane of Time for us,” Martin the Green explained.  “Well, for _you_… I am going to the Dark Room.”

“Not yet…” Ratchis said again.

“Then when?” Martin whined. “The longer I wait the more opportunities the Book of Black Circles has to corrupt me and take me over, and then what?  Not only will I be damned, but it might keep you from freeing Hurgun, and would be putting this place and its secrets in the hands of the most nefarious wizard of the Age.”

“He makes a very good point,” Bastian said.  Ratchis glowered at him.

The party began to debate once more.  Ratchis and Kazrack did not want Martin the go to the negative material plane until they could figure out some form of protection for him.  Martin insisted it was pointless to fight against his fate.

In that time the Modron Station machine shuddered and squeeze out the largest modron yet, one of the winged cube-shaped quadrones.

Roland padded over to it as it looked around.  “Please report fiend intruder has been neutralized,”  the Bastite said to it.

The cube turned and then lowered his body to the floor and turned back again, and strangely said, “Yes, decaton…”

“It must be communicating with the decaton by some remote means,” Martin the Green said, with awe in his voice as he walked over, leaving the argument.  A duodrone that had come of the machine a few moments earlier, walked over and said “Report Fire Chamber. Follow.”

“I guess we should follow it,” Martin said to the others.

“Perhaps the decaton has some idea of how to protect Martin while in the Negative Material Plane,” Roland suggested.  Martin shrugged.

The Keepers of the Gate followed the duodrone out the portal on the far side of the Modron Station. Martin was in the front with Ratchis and Kazrack right behind him.  The chamber beyond was made of white polished marble, with a high vaulted ceiling supported by faux-columns that protruded in rows along the walls.  In the center of the chamber was a square pool of calm blue-green water of indeterminable depth.  Huge leaves and lillypads floated about on its surface. (9)

The duodrone led them around the pool to the right and went through the portal there.  Martin was about to pass through as well, as Roland roared in alarm from the rear of the marching order.  A huge pseudopod seemingly made of the water of the pool itself slammed at him, like a rogue wave.  The panther leapt to the side to avoid the blow.

“It’s a water elemental! Let’s get out of here!” Martin called, stepped out of the way of the portal to gesture the others through.

Roland did not hesitate and darted past everyone through the portal.  “I’ll take the rear!” Ratchis roared, drawing his sword and stepping towards the pool.  “Everyone through the portal!”

The water elemental slammed its pseudopod towards Ratchis, but the limb sliced over the half-orc’s raised sword, and he only got wet.  Sergio whistled a quick little tune, and in a half-moment he was diving out of the room expeditiously, right on the Bastite’s tail.  Kazrack followed.

Bastian moved to follow, but grunted as the thing slammed him in the face.  For a moment his lungs burned as he aspirated water, but he managed to stagger through the portal, pushed by Gunthar who followed.  Ratchis stepped out of the chamber as well, leaving the elemental guardian behind.

They were now in another expansive chamber, this one outfitted as a kitchen. (10) Bastian crawled to a wall and sat there, spitting up water and taking deep ragged breaths.  Roland walked over and cast two curative spells to help the bearded warrior’s recovery.

There were several modrons in the kitchen.  The duodrone they had been following, joined a group of monodrones who were collecting strewn implements, ordering two to begin clearing out a small room set into the larger chamber, that seemed to act as a form of larder.

“This kitchen must be the Fire Room,” Martin said.  “And the room we just passed through was obviously the Water Room…”

The Keepers of the Gate began to explore the kitchen a bit.  There was the inset room that acted as dry storage, a large brick oven with cut logs stacked beside it.  There were two large chopping blocks and an empty chicken coop.  Countless pots, pans and utensils of various kinds hung from a pole suspended over a long metal tub.  On the other side of the room was a sloped cleft in the floor over which hung a nasty looking hook on a chain.  It looked like this was used to clean and butcher great sides of meat.

There were two heavy iron cauldrons on the other side of the dry storage room, and a monodrone was setting a fire beneath one as another chopped vegetables into it.

Ratchis put down the wrapped corpse he was carrying and walked over to the thick metal door of the closed off area in the top right-hand corner. A blast of cold air came at him from within when he pulled them open.  Beyond was a cold storage room, with hanging sides of beef, a few pigs and several pheasants and other game birds. There were also stacked barrels of various perishable goods.  In the back of the cold storage locker was a crystalline figure made of ice, that seemed frozen to the wall and ceiling.  It turned its head and struggled for a moment against its bonds with a silent roar. The half-orc closed the doors back up.

He explained to the others what he saw.

“Does it not anger you to see any creature in bondage?” Roland asked.

Ratchis shrugged.  “I never learned anything about the freewill of elementals.  Anyway, I am not about to free that thing when it will likely be angry and reasoning with it is unlikely.  When this is all over, it is one of the many things I am sure Hurgun will have to explain to us.” He looked pointedly at Kazrack.  “Sometimes it is best to wait for more information before acting.”

“Speaking of more information…” Martin cast his last prepared _analyze portal_ spell and looked around clockwise at the portal leaving the Fire Room, saying their names aloud, “Dark Room, Entrance Room, Laboratory and Water Room.”

The watch-mage concentrated a moment to look through the portal to the laboratory, and beyond he saw a many floating platforms connected by narrows steps and catwalks.  The platforms were covered with tables and counters which had a great number of papers and tools strewn on them.

“Why did the modrons bring us here?” Kazrack asked.

Ratchis shrugged, “Who knows?  But why not rest here while we can?”

It was agreed.

*End of Session #97*

----------------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1) See Session #93

(2) Martin had activated the sundial side of the cube which kept out all living things, but allowed minerals and dead matter through, allowing weapons to be wielded through it.

(3) *DM’s Note:*  Kazrack’s player rolled a critical fumble, allowing his opponent an immediate attack of opportunity.  However,  I rolled a fumble for the demoness as well, call for Reflex save or fall (which she made). See this page of the Aquerra wiki to read more about fumble results.

(4) *DM’s Note:* Kazrack, Ratchis and Gunthar all got attacks of opportunity on the fleeing demoness, and all hit, including a critical hit from Ratchis.

(5) You can see the layout of this “unnamed room” behind the sblock: [sblock]
	

	
	
		
		

		
			





[/sblock]

(6) Hurgun’s Rune: 
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




(7) The tongue studs detected as conjuration magic.

(8) The speculates that the portal to the Negative Material Plane, where the book can be destroyed can be found in the Dark  Room.

(9) You can see the layout of the “Water Room” behind the sblock: [sblock]
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




[/sblock]

(10) You can see the layout of the Fire Room/Kitchen behind the sblock: [sblock]
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




[/sblock]


----------



## handforged

Well, that was quite exciting.  I was waiting the entire time for the demoness to pull out some secret trick and once again thwart the KotG, but I am quite excited about her defeat.

Defeat Mozek... Check!
Enter Hurgun's Maze... Check!
Cast Spell from BoBC... Check!
Repair Modron Station... Check!
Defeat Demoness... Check!
Destroy BoBC...
Defeat Richard the Red...
Plunge Hurgun's Maze into the Plane of Time and Save the World!.......

~hf


----------



## Gold Roger

> “This isn’t how it was supposed to happen,”




Now that's a nice little touch-she goes out just like her son.


----------



## BlackCat

handforged said:
			
		

> Well, that was quite exciting.  I was waiting the entire time for the demoness to pull out some secret trick and once again thwart the KotG, but I am quite excited about her defeat.
> 
> Defeat Mozek... Check!
> Enter Hurgun's Maze... Check!
> Cast Spell from BoBC... Check!
> Repair Modron Station... Check!
> Defeat Demoness... Check!
> Destroy BoBC...
> Defeat Richard the Red...
> Plunge Hurgun's Maze into the Plane of Time and Save the World!.......
> 
> ~hf



Thanks, hf! That checklist is nifty!

Believe you me, we were ALL excited about that win! We got so thoroughly creamed during our last fight that I had been seriously dreading that confrontation. I'm not talking your regular "uh oh...we're about to enter a fight...this is an opportunity for some random crit to kill me or one of my friends" dread but like a "I'm going to perhaps wet myself" dread!

I'm not going to say anything else except that we accomplish a great deal of what's on your nifty little checklist, though not necessarily in the order you have there. How, do you ask? Well, read on...or it's just 'cuz we are that SUPER COOL!


----------



## Richard Rawen

Only good thing about an absence from the boards is to return to several great posts...

Ding-Dong the &itch is dead, the &itch is dead Huzzah!

Sorry... that demoness had to go and I'm surely glad that particular check mark is done!

Oh, and the usual kudos for a kick@ss story el-remmen =-)


----------



## el-remmen

So what do you prefer. . . 

One long installment either late tomorrow or Monday sometime?

Or two shorter installments, one sometime late today with mild cliffhanger. . . and the other in the next day or two. . .

Note: I am not promising either. . .


----------



## Pyske

I vote for instant gratification.


----------



## Angel Tarragon

el-remmen said:
			
		

> One long installment either late tomorrow or Monday sometime?



long installment.....all or nothing baby!


----------



## el-remmen

*Here's a nice long one for ya. . . 5 to go. . .*

*Session #98 (complete)* (1)

Ratchis was creating a form of camp over near the empty chicken coop, as Kazrack laid down his prayer stone, annoyed that he could not determine the direction to the First Mountain.  Bastian and Roland poked around the dry storage for something immediately edible, but Gunthar found some cooking wine and was drinking that despite the bleating protests of a monodrone. Sergio was whistling a tune as he filed at his nails sitting on a small barrel. Martin the Green walked over to Ratchis.

“So, we’ll rest here and tomorrow we go to the Dark Room?” he asked the Friar of Nephthys.

“No,” Ratchis replied, not looking up as he rolled out his hyenadon skin.  “We’re going to the Audience Chamber.”

“And _then_ to the Dark Room?”

Ratchis sighed.  “Okay…”

“Not a guest area,” a tridrone said, in rising dissonant tones, as it approached Martin. “Cannot stay here.”

“Can you lead us to…”

“Air Room. Guest quarters… Follow,” the modron turned and walked towards one of the portals.  The Keepers of the Gate quickly gathered their things to follow.

Ratchis noticed a duodrone directing two monodrones in lifting the still wrapped corpse of Ora-Amira-El.  He ran over to shoo them away.

“Immolation of fiend corpse ordered,” the duodrone said.

“You’re going to burn it?” the half-orc asked.

“Affirmative.”

“Very well,” Ratchis replied.  “I saw a pig in the frozen room.  Do you think I could take it?”

“No authority to grant permission,” the duodrone replied, and continued what it was doing.

Ratchis shrugged and retrieving the frozen pig, he left with his companions.  They were led back through the Dining Room and back to the Air Room with its cloud-like rooms.  As the party prepared to get some sleep, modrons brought them large bowls of pork stew and large slabs of stale bread that Ratchis ate with relish.

“What did you do with that pig?” Roland asked as the Keepers of the Gate gathered in one large room to talk and eat.

“I put it in one of the smaller rooms and realizing I could control the temperature of the room by willing it, I made it as warm as I could and left the pig in there to thaw,” Ratchis replied.

“Chopping up the pig will make it thaw faster,” Kazrack said.

“I need to be able to cut it open carefully,” Ratchis explained.  “I want the bladder.  I was thinking we might fill it with air and figure out a way for Martin to use it to breathe while in the Negative Material Plane.” (2)

Martin’s head drooped and he shook it slowly back and forth.  “There is no point, Ratchis… I have acclimated myself to the reality of my fate…”

“Well, I have not,” Ratchis replied. “And while we can still try, we should try…”

“I agree,” Kazrack said. “It makes no sense to me for this human god to put a task upon you that you can only accomplish by dying, and hold death over your head to get you to do it…”

“The ways of the gods are ever mysterious to us mortals,” Roland said.

“Can we stop talking about this?” Martin said.  “In fact, I am going to get some sleep.  Tomorrow, I die… And nothing is going to change that.”

The watch-mage rose and left.

“Poor Martin…” Bastian said quietly.

“Yeah,” said Gunthar, slurping down the last of his stew.  “He’s going to die a virgin.”

Ratchis punched the Neergaardian in the arm.

After the modrons had cleared away the bowls, everyone bedded down.  The half-orc took the first watch and woke Gunthar to take the second.

“Everything’s fine,” Gunthar grumbled, rolling over.  “We already saved the world. Get some shut-eye…”

Ratchis nudged him again.

“Alright…” But the Neergaardian did not get up.  Ratchis kicked him this time.

“Snuffles! It’s alright.  I close my eyes in order to hear better,” Gunthar said, and he was kicked again.  He sat up and rubbed his eyes and looked up at the half-orc.  “You know, I bet there was a time you used to get kicked…”

“There are too many random factors for us to sleep here unprotected,” Ratchis said as he walked off to claim his spot.

After he had heard Ratchis’ snoring for a few minutes, Gunthar shook Bastian awake.

“Your turn to take watch,” he said to the bearded warrior. “Snuffles and I have been up half the night watching and he finally just zonked out.  Watch out for monsters, or whatever…”

Gunthar went back to sleep.


Tholem, the 4th of Ese – 565 H.E. (3) 

In what they assumed was morning, the Keepers of the Gate awoke to a cube-shaped quadrone trilled a loud rolling click that drew them all out into the main area of the Air Room.

“I am designated Four of Six,” the quadrone said.  The thing had the most human-like face of all the modrons, but it was disturbingly over-sized, and its mouth enunciated words in an exaggerated fashion.  I am to bring you to the Dining Room to have a meal, and then to the Audience Chamber to speak with the Decaton.”

“Thank you, Four,” Roland said.

“I am designated Four of Six,” the quadrone repeated.

“Four of Six, we still need to prepare our spells,” Martin the Green said walking over.  “Would it be okay if we did that first before coming with you?”

“I am to wait at your leisure,” the modron replied.  It walked on its six legs to stand by one of the portals.

Martin moved to one corner and began to draw his spellbooks from his bags.  Kazrack walked over to him.

“Martin, I was thinking we should discuss what spells we might prepare in hopes of finding some that might be cast before your journey to the realm of Void,” Kazrack said.  “Something that will help you survive…”

“It is pointless,” Martin replied, looking up. “I am going to prepare some spells the best I can, but there is nothing anyone can do to help me avoid my fate.”

“But what if we use the Cube?” Kazrack said, referring to _the Wurfel Kraft_.

“It won’t help,” Martin replied.  He raised his hands in frustration and then drew his knees up to his disfigured face, clutching a spellbook close to his chest.

“But Martin, I don’t see why you are so resigned…” Kazrack began, but Roland drew the dwarf away.

“Leave him alone, Kazrack,” the Bastite said.  “He has a heavy heart because he knows he is going to die.  The only way you can help is by being quiet and supportive.”

Kazrack sputtered in disbelief for a few moments as the priest of Bast stared him down, but he left the mage alone.

Martin the Green sighed and slid his legs back down, but as he reached to open the spellbook on his lap, he flinched and gasped and then pushed it away as if it were a spider crawling on him.  

It was the Book of Black Circles. (4)

Sighing again, he picked up the book and slid it back into its sleeve and into a backpack, and proceeded to prepare his spells.

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

Later, after a meal of bland porridge and more stale bread in the dining room, but with lots of wine to wash it down with, Four of Six made to lead them to talk to the decaton.

“I am going to go back to the Air Room and work on that bladder some more,” Ratchis said. Martin rolled his eyes, but said nothing.  After checking with the modrons, he went back through the proper portal, while the others were led to the Earth Room.

The Audience Chamber did not have as many modrons in the tiered seats as it did the very first time the Keepers of the Gate visited it.  However, there were about a dozen or so of mixed types, including two pentadrones flanking the decaton up on the balcony.

“Martin the Green and the Keepers of the Gate,” Martin heard the decaton polytonal voice in his head.  “Pardon my malfunction.  Voice operations need repair.  Only telepathic contact possible.  Re-assimilation through Modron Station must wait.  Must ask Keepers of the Gate questions.  Questions have primacy over instructions regarding Plane of  Time.  Martin the Green must relay to companions.”

Martin explained to the others about the decaton being unable to speak, but expressed his confusion as to what the rest of it meant.

“Why will we not be getting instructions?” Martin asked.

“Your other companion is not with you, ” the decaton responded telepathically.

“He is working on creating a device he hopes will help me survive the quest that I came here for,” Martin responded.  “But still… Why no instruction?”

“Time is short.  Time has past.  And now there are other intruders in Hurgun’s Maze .  In the guise of orcs. Not orcs,” the decaton said.  “They must not be allowed to reach the Control Room.  The modrons must attend to their stations for travel to Plane of Time. You must do this thing.  Do you know this other party? ”

“We can guess who they are,” Martin replied, and then paraphrased what the decaton said to the others. 

The modrons in the tiered seats began to file out.

“Can we have one of your servants retrieve our companion?” Martin asked.  The decaton agreed, and a few minutes later Ratchis arrived, his pig bladder breathing contraption not in any kind of working condition.  Martin conveyed what the decaton had told him.

“Ask him when the trip into the plane of time is to begin,” Kazrack said to Martin.

“It has already happened.  It is about to happen.  It may never happen,” the decaton replied.  

Martin the Green shrugged his shoulders. “The answer has no meaning,” he told the others.

“Intruders are fighting the para-elemental guardians.  Intruders are now entering Dining Room.  No longer orcs. Please intercept,” the decaton was pressing the colored gems on the console before him with two of his ten tentacles about his spherical head.  “Note, travel between chambers may be hazardous while in the plane of Time.  Consequence algorithms too long to process.”

“Uh… About the guardians,” Martin replied, mentally.  “Is there a way we might get past them?”

“Guardians are shut down for the journey.  Other rogue elements may still be a danger.  Please intercept.  Behind you through portal to Entrance Room.  Left to Dining Room. Intercept.” The decaton pointed with three of his tentacles.  “Do not allow them into Control Room.  Free Hurgun.”

Martin nodded and told the others. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Kazrack said. Bastian handed Sergio a short sword, since the bard still had no weapon.

The Keepers of the Gate filed through the portal they had first passed through when entering the Audience Chamber and found themselves back in the Entrance Room.  The central column holding the spiral stair out of the Maze was in the process of rising, and the elements in the four corners roiled and burbled and bubbled and spat, much as they did before, but none of the figures came to life.  They noticed the foul ooze freezing into geometric shapes every few moments was as large as it had been before it became the creature they had slain.  It had somehow grown back. (5)

They passed  between the ooze and the ice and then turned left to walk through the portal between the ooze and the magma.  Kazrack went through first, followed closely by Martin.

The Dining Room’s many crystal chandeliers glowed like mini-suns as the Keepers of the Gate entered.  The tables had been straightened and recovered with cloths.  While some of the surrounding cases holding the plate and cutlery sets were still broken, all the shattered glass had been cleared away.  

There were a group of humans gathered around the longest table.  Some were sitting, and others paced nearby, one was sitting up on the table itself, feet on a chair.  The man sitting on the table wore black leather pants with bright yellow stripes, and a shirt to match. He was slight man in a with a wide-brimmed feathered hat, with long slicked-back bluish-gray hair, sharp powdered features, bright white teeth and the slightest point to his thin ears.  It was Razzle Greyish.

There was a tall man in a breast plate with a nasty-looking mace at his side. He wore a tunic with a golden ankh emblazoned on an open tome. A similar sigil was a golden holy symbol about his neck. It was hard to recognize his features beneath his helmet with its long ankh-shaped noseguard, but it was clearly Cordell of Thoth.

One of the pacing ones turned and noticed Kazrack and then Martin as they came them through.  He was a young man with olive skin, square jaw and lean stature of a Herman-Lander. He was a few inches shorter than six feet tall, and had close cropped black curls on his head. The few mousy whiskers on his chin showed his youth. He wore travel-stained black studded leather armor and his hand was quickly on the hilt of his sword.  It was Logan Naismith. Martin frowned as he noticed their former companion was bare foot, and the bottoms of his pants appeared to have burned away some.

At the head of the table was a tall woman. She was lithe and pale, with her long light brown hair in a single thick braid that fell down her back. She had a freckled face that was just barely on the pretty side of plain. She wore robes of various shades of lavender and had a staff on the table before her. It was Alexandra the Lavender. (6)

Standing beside her was a familiar figure in billowing robes of varying shades of crimson.  He had bright green eyes and long curly auburn hair. His beard had tiny glints of brighter red in it.  He wore a short sword at his side.  It was Richard the Red. 

The rogue watch-mage turned to see the Keepers of the Gate entering the room.

“Richard! We were sent to find you!” Kazrack announced, hefting his halberd.

“Ah! There you are!” Richard the Red smiled and began to walk in their direction, looking to his companions. “Didn’t I say that if we waited here long enough _they_ would come find _us_?  It made no sense to wander about.”  He looked pointedly at Razzle.  

The swordsman leapt to his feet and danced on the table, bowing to Martin the Green as he doffed his hat.

“Welcome to Hurgun’s Maze,” Martin announced, as the last of his companions slipped into the room, fanning out a bit.  Roland immediately changed into his panther-form.  “I’m afraid you’ve come at a metaphysically awkward time.”

“Martin the Green!  It is good to that you have found us.  There is much of import we must discuss before it is too late,” Alexandra said, standing.

“Alexandra!  I must say I am very surprised to see you here,” Martin replied.

“I realized I needed to come myself when I discovered more information about the Book of Black Circles,” Alexandra explained.  “I was able to contact Richard the Red and tell him some of it, but I could not risk letting you know too soon, in case…”

“In case what?” Martin asked.  Gunthar gave Logan a wink, tracing out the edge of the pommel of his short sword, _Hornet_.  He pointed at the young warrior’s bare feet and let out a breathy laugh.

Ratchis stepped towards the raised area in one corner of the Dining Room, where Logan had moved to, scowling at Gunthar, while Kazrack walked into the room a ways in the opposite direction.  Roland pawed his way forward along the left side of the long table.  Cordell of Thoth looked down at the panther warily as the Bastite approached.  Razzle leapt off the table in an impressive somersault when Richard admonished him to get down.

“I think Alexandra is having difficulty getting to the specifics of the matter because of how difficult it will be accept,” Richard explained.  “I would not  have accepted it so readily, but if Alexandra the Lavender thinks something difficult to accept must be done, well then… Most likely it _must_ be done.  You see, she has figured out that you must _not_ destroy the Book of Black Circles.”

There was a long silence as Martin the Green stared at Richard the Red, and then re-positioned the glare to rest on Alexandra the Lavender for a moment as well.  Ratchis whispered to Nephthys to grant him the ability to _detect charm_, expecting to see the familiar aura about the watch-mage of Bountiful, but there was none.

“Well, I guess there is something to be said for your blunt approach, Richard,” Alexandra smirked.  She turned back to Martin, coming around the table.  Roland continued to creep towards the watch-mage, sniffing.   “But, Martin, what he has said is essentially the case.  Have you ever wondered why the Brotherhood of the Lost allowed you to have the book?”

“They did not allow me,” Martin replied.  “We took it from the gear of some monks we defeated in the Pit of Bones.”

“Fine.  Well, why did they not send forces after you to retrieve their book?” Alexandra asked.

“It is possible they did and they never found us,” Martin said.  “But more likely, since Rahkefet is patron of those who have gone astray, they hoped I would be corrupted by the Book of Black Circles and fulfill some precept of their god…”

“Yes, that is likely, but only a happy bonus for their twisted order,” Alexandra replied. “However, I have discovered there is more to it than that.  The destruction of the Book of Black Circles in the negative material plane unlocks a great celestial chain that keeps Rahkefet from extending his power into this plane.  It completes the events needed for him to become a god as his kin are gods.”

“Why would Osiris want Rahkefet to be free?” Kazrack sputtered, interrupting.  “The more I hear of this human god, the more I think you all are duped to call this god ‘good’.”

“What I call good and what you call good can be different and both still be right,” Ratchis said, sighing.  “This may be wisdom beyond what any of us can grasp.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” Martin asked. “Disobey Osiris and die?  And who knows what will happen if I die while in possession of the Book?”

“Destroying the book will most likely kill you as well,” Richard said.

“I have resigned myself to that,” Martin replied.

“Be that as it may, do you really want to be responsible for the freeing of an evil god?” Richard asked.

”His power has been kept at bay since the time of Agon the God-King (7), it must remain that way,” Alexandra the Lavender said. “Marchosias the Corruptor, however, terrible he may be, is a mortal threat.  If we must choose between evil…”

“Are you suggesting I allow the Book of Black Circles to corrupt me?” Martin was agog.

“Not purposefully,” Richard said. “But it _is_ inevitable.”

“Richard, this reminds me of an episode with drow witches about a year ago,” Ratchis said.

“In Richard’s defense,” Kazrack coughed, obviously pained to say it. “The argument makes sense.  We cannot not allow the power of an evil god to enter the world and lead people astray.”

“If it be Osiris’ will…” Ratchis began.

“I am Roland of Bast,” Roland said, still in panther-form, as he sat before Alexandra.  “We have met before briefly.  I am a friend of your former companion, Norena of Bast. (8)  You wouldn’t happen to know where she is?”

“She has not been seen since she left to reconnoiter the orcs force,” Richard replied for the watch-mage, but Alexandra nodded.  “There has been no response to our _sendings_.”

“Where’s Dorn?” Logan was asking Ratchis.

“Dorn has passed,” Ratchis replied.

“Kazrack killed him,” Gunthar said, smiling.

“Shut up, Gunthar,” Ratchis said.

“And we liked him ten times more than we like a little pissant like you, so you better watch yourself,” the Neergaardian continued, jerking a thumb in Ratchis’ direction.  “I mean, Snuffles here doesn’t take kindly to betrayal.”

“Shut up, Gunthar,” Ratchis said again, but he looked to Logan.  “Why _did_ you leave?”

“After talking with Richard and thinking on the matter, I realized the course of action that needed to be taken and that I needed to work with a group who actually takes action instead of pissing and moaning about it for hours before doing so,” Logan replied, but his tone did not match his words.  They seemed sadder.  He looked up and sneered at Gunthar once more.

Bastian walked over to Richard  the Red and they shook hands friendlily.  “It is always good to see you, Richard,” Bastian said. “It is a shame we end up on the opposite sides of this issue.”

“It need not be that way,” Richard replied quietly with a smile.  Bastian smiled back and shook his head.

“How did you get in here, anyway?” Bastian asked the crimson-robed mage.

“We found the entrance on the Earth Tower after spending a couple days in the guise of orcs, wandering the fortress above,” Richard explained.

Roland called Martin over to where he was sitting in front of Alexandra.  He had only met the watch-mage of Bountiful once or twice, but still there was something not right about here that he could not lay a paw on.  He hoped Martin might have a better clue.

Martin walked over explaining to Richard and his companions how the Hurgun’s Maze was entering the plane of Time  “I am not even sure what the consequences will be anywhere in the Maze once we are in the Plane of Time,” he said.  “But we need to go to the Control Room, if we are to expel or destroy the elemental.”

“Very well, we will come with you,” Richard said. “I would love to see the Control Room of the legendary Hurgun’s Maze.”

“That cannot be allowed,” Kazrack announced.  “The decaton who rules the creatures that serve Hurgun has said as much and we have given our word that we would not allow it.”

Richard sighed.  Martin walked back over near Ratchis at the half-orc’s signal.  The friar of Nephthys was trying to draw the attention of all of his companions to get them to withdraw towards the portal they had come through.

“You should stay here for your own protection,” Ratchis said.  “If we fail in our task it may be up to you, however misguided you are, to try to fix the situation.”

“Surely some compromise can be reached?” Alexandra said. “What if Martin were to stay here and continue to talk with us while the rest of you deal with this threat?”

“No,” Ratchis replied.

“Would you be willing to swear to return here to discuss the Book of Black Circles before going on to destroy it?” Richard suggested.  “In order to give us a chance to convince you of the proper course of action?”

“Well, that seems reasonable…” Martin began.

“No,” Ratchis said again. “If you want to convince him, do it now and quickly.  We can make no promise to return here, especially if it turns out we have a limited window of opportunity to find the Dark Room and send Martin through the gate there.”

“What is the source of this information regarding Rahkefet and the Book of Black Circles?” Martin asked Alexandra.

“The Book of Agon,” the watch-mage replied.  “A rare tome kept up to date by the Librarians of Thoth in Moon City. Of which I am fortunate enough to have a few pages copied directly from it.  And then there was the information of a fallen monk of Anubis who revered Rahkefet, that repented his actions…  I can show you the pages and go over the confession in detail, if you like…”

“I am not sure we have the time,” Martin replied.  “The decaton mentioned traveling between rooms will be dangerous once we are in the plane of time, we should make our way to the Control Room.  I give my word I shall return…”

Ratchis grunted his disapproval.

“I think perhaps we should come with you anyway,” Richard said.

“But you just said…”

“But I did not know about the danger of passing through the portals,” Richard explained. “We cannot risk losing track of you now that we have found you.  It is not that I do not trust your word, Martin, but you may end up being _unable_ to return.

Kazrack began to froth with anger. “Why should we have to return if you are going to come with us? What you say makes no sense!  You are only trying to use words to confuse us, as usual! You will stay here if I have knock you unconscious to make sure that you do!” His hands tightened about his halberd.

“You can try,” Richard the Red replied with a smile.

Bastian walked over to Martin and leaned in to whisper, “Get the others to go with you out the portal.  I will do my best to delay them.”  He ripped a patch from his _Wayfarer’s Robe_ and in a moment was holding bottle of wine.  He walked towards Razzle offering some.

“Let’s just do the job,” Logan said, turning to Richard and pulling his sword. “I told you talking wouldn’t accomplish anything.”

“Let’s just go,” Martin said to Ratchis, turning to him.

“I am not sure we can leave without making sure Richard and his companions will stay,” Ratchis said, turning to the others, but then quickly turning back to Martin.  The half-orc scooped up the gawky watch-mage and began to carry him towards the portal behind them.

“_Manus mentallus forsus!_” Richard cast his spell, and a huge disembodied hand appeared between Ratchis, Martin and the portal.  “I’m sorry, but we can’t let you leave with that book.”

Roland leapt onto and over the table, pouncing at Richard the Red, but the watch-mage stepped aside deftly, avoiding the Bastite.  Suddenly, Logan was tumbling towards Gunthar, sword in hand.  The Neergaardian cried out, for even though _Hornet_ was out and flashing in that moment, Logan caught him under the arm, sending a jet of blood down Gunthar’s chain shirt. (9)

Ratchis dropped Martin and clutched at the belt of chain links about his waist.  “Nephthys, I call this _prayer_ to you, that if this comes to bloodshed, let us smite our enemies more quickly!”

“Thoth, I call your prayers to this room to cancel those of Queen of Chaos!” Cordell cast a _prayer_ as well, balancing the influence of the gods.

Gunthar’s _short sword of speed_ flashed twice, scraping against Logan’s slower parries to draw blood.  “I’m gonna stick this in you further than I stick my longsword in your momma!” Gunthar laughed.  “I’ll teach you how to take a joke.”

“_Lentus!_ Martin chanted, trying to withdraw from the great hand that kept pushing him away from the portal.  Cordell’s movements were arrested.

“There is no reason for this to be happening!” Alexandra the Lavender put her hands in the air to call for calm.

Razzle ran past Roland, sticking the panther in the hindquarters as he went past.  And then the half-elf swordsman flipped up onto the table, turning in mid-flight to face Kazrack, who was charging at him.  But it was too late, and the rapier was too light a weapon to knock the halberd very far out alignment.  Blood was drawn as Razzle was knocked back onto his rear.

“I think I’ll just stand in the corner and see if I can figure out who I think is right,” Sergio said quietly and side-stepped into a corner to do just that.

“The plan was to fall back,” Kazrack complained to his companions, swinging at the leaping Razzle.  “But as soon as one way was blocked you all scattered!”

“You ran forward as well,” Bastian said, holding up his shield and readying his warhammer, but not joining the melee.

“Yes, well, I’m _supposed_ to do that,” Kazrack replied.

“We should all fall back,” Bastian said. “Fighting here is not furthering our goals.  Alexandra is right!”

“_Lentus!_” The Keepers of the Gate recognized the spell Richard the Red cast even as it was too late to do anything about it.  Roland felt his movements slow for less than moment, but the effect was warded off by his _ring of alacrity_. (10)  Kazrack, on the other hand, was not so lucky.

Roland leapt at Richard once again, and once again the wizard was too fast for him.  The watch-mage spun around and looked to Ratchis who was calling to him.

“Richard! When are done taking the fight out of your companions, then we are going to have long talk!” And with that the Friar of Nephthys charged into the fight between Logan and Gunthar, cutting the young Herman-Lander deeply across the chest with his two-handed sword. 

As Logan looked up in surprise, Gunthar’s sword found their openings and their former companion’s body jerked twice more.

Logan stumbled back and looked at Ratchis. “I would have left the fight between me and Gunthar,” he croaked. “I wouldn’t have tried to stop you…”  As he crumpled forward Gunthar brought his long sword down cleaving the top of Logan’s head open.

“No!!!” Ratchis cried, shoving Gunthar away, but it was too late.

“No one tries to kill me and lives,” Gunthar spat, and grabbed at a deep cut in his shoulder. Ratchis noticed how much blood the Neergaardian had lost.  Speaking of blood, Roland was noticing that the wound Razzle had dealt him was still oozing life steadily despite not being that big a cut..

He saw the half-elf leaping off the table at Kazrack, finding an opening between plates with his thin blade.  The rapier whipped about at furious speed.  Roland considered leaping into that fight, when he heard a familiar voice over the melee.

“Oh Divine Mother of Cats!  Though who art as merciful as though art agile, hold that half-breed in place so that peace may prevail!”

Ratchis felt a spell wash over him, but his _aura of freedom_ helped to protect him from the magic influence. (11)

“Norena?” Roland padded over to Alexandra the Lavender, as Cordell called on Thoth to _dispel_ the _slow_ spell on him. 

Martin the Green continue to try to push past the huge disembodied hand to get to the portal, but it hovered with great speed to always interpose itself and push him back, not matter how he turned.  “_Lentus!_” he cast again, and this time no one was effected.   Bastian ran over to push the hand away from Martin to give the latter a chance to escape, but it was too strong.

Alexandra the Lavender’s form melted away to reveal Norena of Bast, with her tall svelte frame and sharply defined features.  Her narrow green eyes outlined in black pencil sparkled and contrasted with her long curly red locks. She wore a simple low-cut maroon dress, and amber cat’s eye encased in gold on a fine chain just long enough to make the medallion draw more attention to the cut of the dress.

“Lies! Subterfuge!  I knew we could not trust them all along!” Kazrack spat, swinging his halberd so hard that Razzle winced as the basket hilt of his rapier barely knocked it away.

“It wasn’t lies, silly!” Razzle replied, beginning to dance back just fast enough to keep the _slowed_ Kazrack struggling to get blows in.  “It was just using a face you could trust.  What she said is still true.  You can still trust us.”

“I never trusted you,” Kazrack replied.  “But you can trust me when I say this: I will heal you when you are bleeding out on the ground from my halberd blows. I will not let you die.”  And with that he scored a deep blow, but Razzle was able to roll with it tumbling back too fast for the dwarf to catch up.  The swashbuckler drew out a glass vial and downed its contents.  He threw the vial at Kazrack, laughing as his wounds closed, still dancing back and forth.  His rapier buzzed.

Kazrack noticed the wounds from the rapier were still bleeding. (13)

Richard spoke a word and sprinkled a bit of diamond dust over his head.

Ratchis looked up at Gunthar from where he was confirming what he already knew, Logan was dead.  “Go and help the others, and if you attack anyone else that is helpless I will kill you myself.”

“It was a miracle he lasted as long as he did,” Gunthar replied, choking down a flask of the _Blood of Ashronk_ (12) “Someone was bound to kill that kid…” And with that he ran to aid Kazrack.

The Neergaardian reached him just as the dwarf was done calling on his gods to grant him _bull’s strength_, and they turned when they heard Richard said, “I’m sorry, but I’m forced to do this…” and followed it up with an arcane chant.  A tumbling sphere of white cold came barreling at the two of them and then exploded in a million crystal shards.  Gunthar was sent flying back on to his ass and was having a hard time getting back up, while Kazrack was able to crouch down and brace himself.  His lungs burned from the cold, and bits of ice hung in his beard and he retreated to cast a spell of healing upon himself.

Cordell was getting back up from a hard blow dealt to him by Ratchis, crunching his armor in on one side, and slammed his heavy mace into the half-orc’s chin driving him back for a moment.

“Norena, I think we need to take a moment and have  a philosophical discussion,” Roland said to his fellow priest.  “But first I need to help my companions.”

“Oh yes, I agree,” Norena said smiling.  “It seems like a very good compromise.  And I think I will shift in a form I find a little more comfortable for these kinds of situations.”  And with that her form began to melt and stretch and fur exploded from her skin.  In half a moment, she was a long and lithe cat.  Her form was dull reddish-yellow with black speckles, and had a deep chest and narrow waist. (14)

Roland leapt off towards Gunthar and cast a _cure critical wounds_ spell on him.  Norena leapt away and did the same for Razzle.

The dancing swordsman laughed and leapt back towards the still _slowed_ dwarf, and Kazrack felt the sting of the rapier some more. 

Cordell and Ratchis disengaged, both breathing heavy, and looking for an opening.  They were close to evenly match in terms of skill, but the Librarian of Thoth had suffered a couple of heavy blows more than the half-orc.  Martin the Green ran forward and managed to cast his _greater invisibility_ spell on Ratchis before the great hand began to push him away again.

Bastian leapt over and yanked the watch-mage out of the way.

*End of Session #98*
-----------------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1) This session was played on Sunday, October 2nd, 2005.

(2) The Negative Material Plane is airless.

(3) After all that has happened, this is still just the third day in Hurgun’s Maze.

(4) *DM’s Note:* I made a secret Will save for him, but then allowed a Spot check to notice the Book before he opened it.  Basically, he had retrieved it unconsciously, in a moment where the book was taking control.

(5) See Sessions #91 & 92

(6)	She appeared way back in Session #7, but Martin talks about her all the time, and she appeared in Logan’s dream in Session #75.

(7)	In the Third Age, an avatar of Rahkefet, ruled the Spice & Thread Islands (what is Thricia today) using two artifacts, the Orb of Might and the Crown of Might.  He was called Agon the God-King.

(8)	Norena of Bast and Alexandra the Lavender were once members of the same adventuring company, and are old friends.

(9)	*DM’s Note:* Logan rolled a critical hit and did sneak attack damage against Gunthar; doing 22 hit points of damage.

(10)	For information about the _Ring of Alacrity_, go here: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Magical+Item+-+Ring+of+Alacrity

(11)	 *DM’s Note:* The version of the Friar of Nephthys class being used at the time awarded a +2 bonus to the priest against all mind-influencing spells. This ability has been changed since this session. For more info on Friars of Nephthys Characters go here: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Friar+of+Nephthys+Characters

(12)	You gotta love a _Rapier of Wounding_ 

(13)	 Ratchis gave Gunthar a couple of the clay vials at the Neergaardian’s insistence. For more info on the Blood of Ashronk potions, go here: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Magical+Item+-+Blood+of+Ashronk

(14)	 A reddish cheetah


----------



## mmu1

Well, at least you waited until I stopped playing to have your DM-PC kill my character.  

If, with all the weird magical crap floating around the maze, he doesn't come back as a vengeful undead, I'll be _very_ disappointed.


----------



## el-remmen

mmu1 said:
			
		

> Well, at least you waited until I stopped playing to have your DM-PC kill my character.



DM-PC 

Actually, Martin's player was running Gunthar when that happened.



			
				mmu1 said:
			
		

> If, with all the weird magical crap floating around the maze, he doesn't come back as a vengeful undead, I'll be _very_ disappointed.



There have been no undead in the Maze yet - so don't hold your breath.  It is not _that_ kind of crazy magical place.  Anyway, that happened once in the campaign already with someone else's character.


----------



## mmu1

Oh, well. 

I have to admit I am pretty disappointed at how he went out - the odds were stacked against him anyway, even without Ratchis getting involved.


----------



## Richard Rawen

Wow... what a mess. I wondered when they would face Richard and Co.
It is unclear as to what the true motivations are at this point however it does seem like bloodshed is always imminent and this may have been one of their few opportunities to talk instead of fight.
Still I'm sure Richard & Co. will find that the KotG are a Lot tougher than they bargained for, we'll have to see if cooler heads can avoid more fatalities, which would likely snowball this into a bloodbath.
As always, fantastic read, very much looking forward to the (hopefully) successful conclusion of their epic mission.


----------



## BlackCat

mmu1 said:
			
		

> Well, at least you waited until I stopped playing to have your DM-PC kill my character.



To be fair, though, he didn't make you attack Gunthar that very first time. The bad blood between them and the tension it created was cool but this is probably one of the only means for there to be a good sense of closure.


----------



## mmu1

BlackCat said:
			
		

> To be fair, though, he didn't make you attack Gunthar that very first time. The bad blood between them and the tension it created was cool but this is probably one of the only means for there to be a good sense of closure.




Killing Gunthar would have worked just as well, if not better.


----------



## Ciaran

mmu1 said:
			
		

> Well, at least you waited until I stopped playing to have your DM-PC kill my character.



I was running Gunthar in that fight, and while it was pretty close, I think Logan would have won if not for Ratchis' intervention.  And that's despite the fact that Logan had no magic items at the time, while Gunthar was dual-wielding two magic swords.  Make of that what you will.   :\


----------



## mmu1

Ciaran said:
			
		

> I was running Gunthar in that fight, and while it was pretty close, I think Logan would have won if not for Ratchis' intervention.  And that's despite the fact that Logan had no magic items at the time, while Gunthar was dual-wielding two magic swords.  Make of that what you will.   :\




Luck? I'm halfway serious, too - if this story hour is accurate, than literally every time Logan went up against another party member (sparring session with Ratchis, first fight with Gunthar, and now this one) his first blow was a critical _and_ a sneak attack.

If it really was that close, I'm not sure how I feel about it. On one hand, better that it wasn't quite the execution it almost seemed like - on the other, even more annoyed with Ratchis.


----------



## Pyske

mmu1 said:
			
		

> If it really was that close, I'm not sure how I feel about it. On one hand, better that it wasn't quite the execution it almost seemed like - on the other, even more annoyed with Ratchis.




And that sense of betrayal comes across very clearly in the story hour, don't you think?


----------



## Gold Roger

This would have been a really interesting situation with Beorth (sp?) still in the group. Reminds me that I miss that character.

I really don't believe Richard, mostly becuse it's Richard.


----------



## BlackCat

Gold Roger said:
			
		

> This would have been a really interesting situation with Beorth (sp?) still in the group. Reminds me that I miss that character.
> 
> I really don't believe Richard, mostly becuse it's Richard.



I haven't been a part of the party long enough to have a great deal of history with Richard in order to agree with you on that one, GR or not. What I can say is that from my own character's perspective, it made no difference either way. Either he was telling the truth and we would be losing our friend to free a dark god or he was lying, and we'd lose Martin to Marcosias.

Also, Richard was speaking against the word (albeit indirect) of a god. Being a man of faith, there was absolutely no way that Roland was going to stand by and see Martin be destroyed by acting against a deal mde with a god at Richard's word. Leave it to a mage to be so arrogant. This one, particularly.

I loved this situation because (and this is where Roland's self-centeredness bleeds over) there were 2 priests of Bast on either side. Neither of which can support the cause of evil and maintain good enough standing with Bast to be able to enact miracles. Therefore, both sides were right in that there was a choice between the lesser of 2 evils. To Roland's mind, one involved a friend completing a quest given to him from a god and to Norena's, it was a noble sacrifice to prevent a dark god from being freed.

It's all point of view and choice. Since both choices are bad, all that matters are personal preference. Sure, you can debate the likely outcome for forever and a day (not outside of the realm of possibilities for these guys) or you look at the immediate prices and make a stand. We chose to support Martin completing the quest as laid out by Osiris and drew the line in the sand.

Now that's what burns my biscuits!


----------



## Manzanita

Hard to know what to do, as is often the case for these poor PCs.  It's a shame that they had to fight.  I think they should destroy the book.


----------



## weiknarf

el-remmen said:
			
		

> *Session #98 (complete)* (1)
> 
> 
> 
> “After talking with Richard and thinking on the matter, I realized the course of action that needed to be taken and that I needed to work with a group who actually takes action instead of pissing and moaning about it for hours before doing so,” Logan replied, but his tone did not match his words.  They seemed sadder.  He looked up and sneered at Gunthar once more.





ouch


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #99 (part i)* (1)

The great disembodied hand moved over with great speed and shoved Martin the Green back towards the glass cases in one corner.  The watch-mage lost his footing and slammed his head on a shelf on the way down. (2)  He began to scamper desperately in the direction of the large table in order to get under it.

“Cordell!” Richard warned the heavily armored Librarian of Thoth, pointing right at the invisible Ratchis. “The half-breed is still right in front of you! Beware!”

Ratchis hurried past the Thothian and leapt up onto the long table to try to creep towards Razzle, but the table creaked beneath his heavy feet.

Gunthar finally got to his feet with the help of a _lesser restoration_ spell from Roland to get him over some of the exhaustion of coming back from death’s door. The Neergaardian, did not wait to catch his breath.  He leapt at Razzle with swords flashing, but still was not fast enough, as the half-elf danced away from every blow.

Now under the table, Martin signaled for Bastian to get out of the chamber while he could, mouthing the word, “Hurgun”. The bearded warrior did just that, stepping through the black portal.

“D’nar! Let us switch foes!” Kazrack said, running from Razzle as fast as his _slowed_ body could carry him.  The dwarf hurried across the room and tried to use a chair as a step up onto the table to cut across towards Cordell.  However, the chair tipped forward from under him as he stepped and he came f lying down, slamming his face into the table before landing prone on the floor with the wind knocked out of him.

Ratchis made to leap off the table towards Richard when he felt an invisible force grab hold of him. Richard pointed out towards the portal to the right of the one Bastian had stepped out of and the half-orc was flung off through it.  He fell down onto the metal grate-covered catwalk of the Control Room, but landed on his feet. Ratchis noted the blue-white spiral of the time elemental was spinning faster and pulsing more frequently.  He leapt back through the portal.

Roland turned back to look at Norena, still in cheetah-form, as Razzle darted away from Gunthar’s fierce downward chops punctuated by the buzz of his whizzing shortsword.  There was the sudden thump of Ratchis, still invisible, charging into the room leaping over the table to bring his greatsword down at Richard the Red.  But the moment seemed stretched to Roland, almost as if reality itself bulged for in those seconds and the Bastite’s awareness was rubbed slowly across its rounded surface.  He reeled.

Gunthar and Razzle seemed to slow down in time, their blurring swords slowing down as to become almost parody. Something was not right.

Richard the Red stumbled backward as his robe sleeve torn caught on Ratchis’ blade. Only the fact that Cordell suddenly appeared beside Ratchis from wherever he had been on the other side of the chamber, saved Richard. The half-orc’s sword shook under the weight of the Librarian of Thoth’s blow he barely parried, when he realized his invisibility would not help him this time. (3)

“How did you…?” Richard began, but stopped his query and his eyes widened as if he had caught sight of some horror only he could see. Meanwhile, the emerald watch-mage spun and swooned, choking up bile under the table.  He felt his guts twisting in two directions.   The crimson mage directed his great disembodied hand towards Ratchis and it shoved the half-orc back through the drawn screen used to divide up the chamber, tearing it.  He fell to the ground.

Beneath the table, Kazrack stood and tried to tip it over, but the huge oak thing would not budge.

Ratchis rolled to his feet and hurried back towards Richard, coming around the table this time.  However, once again the hand intercepted him and knocked him back onto his rear.  Richard fled behind the still slow-moving Razzle, as Cordell stepped over and slammed Gunthar with his mace.  The Neergaardian fell backward heavily.  It was not until he was struggling to get back to his feet, shaking his head, disoriented, that he was moving at a normal speed again.

Kazrack hurried out from under the table and onto his feet.  He suddenly had a strange sensation as if the world around him were slowing way down, and his momentum took him towards Cordell of Thoth.  He drove the point of his halberd deep into the priest’s side, leaving a bloody rent in the man’s armor.  Cordell staggered back, critically wounded (4), as everything turned back to normal for the dwarf. (5)

Coming out of his stupor, Roland slinked over to Gunthar and healed him once again.  Across the room, Ratchis got to his feet and called to his goddess to close his wounds as well, but had barely done so when the hand shoved him back prone another twenty feet away.

Cordell spun around and Kazrack ducked to avoid the wide swing of the heavy mace.  There was a crunching sound as the dwarf’s armor absorbed another blow, and then he spun away and around his larger foe.  Suddenly, there was a blow that came seemingly from nowhere, as if the priest’s arm moved with blurring speed.  Kazrack side-stepped to avoid another similar blow.

Martin by this time had gotten over his nausea and reached out from under the table to cast _greater invisibility_ on Kazrack, and the dwarf tried to return the Thothian’s blows, but missed.

“Gunthar, Get up!” Roland admonished the Neergaardian.  Disoriented, Gunthar stumbled towards Razzle, but Norena leapt between them, hissing.  She clawed at Gunthar.

“Norena!  You should try to talk your companions out of these ruinous acts!” Roland said to her with a snarl, showing his gleaming white fangs.

“_Nubes de Foetor!_ Richard the Red crushed a hard-boiled rotten egg in his hand and cast the crumbled bits in Ratchis’ direction.  A noxious green cloud burst into being around the Friar of Nephthys, and bloomed out to catch Martin as well, still under the table.  He choked up more bile.  Ratchis scrambled to his feet and out of the cloud, holding his breath.

Cordell stepped in close to Kazrack and brought his heavy mace down, but the dwarf hooked his halberd on the leather loop on the weapon’s end and flung it off to land on the table.  The priest had been in mid-swing, and losing his balance was plummeting to the floor when he disappeared in a flash of blue and white light.   Letting a deep breath escape, and still feeling the sting of Razzle’s wounds, Kazrack looked over at the swordsman. Razzle was still moving so slow he was hardly moving at all, and every now and again the air around him sparkled blue-white.  Kazrack called to Rivkenal to heal some of his wounds.

Smearing vomit in a long trail, Martin pulled himself down to the other end of the long table to escape the cloud. He looked up to see Sergio searching Logan’s corpse over by the portal.

 The great hand tried to push Ratchis back into the cloud, but this time the Friar of Nephthys was ready and putting his shoulder into it, held his ground.  He rolled away from the hand as he heard Richard say, “I am sorry, Ratchis…” followed by, “_Sagitta Igneus!_    Three fiery bolts came flying from the watch-mage’s hand.  The half-orc dove out of the way of the first, but unfortunately it sent him flying right into the other two.

“Aaaaugh!!!!” The still invisible Ratchis hollered as he swatted the flames out.  He continued his roar as he charged across the room, driving Richard back again.  The watch-mage cried out and blood ran down his arm as he fell.  For half-a-moment, Ratchis felt the world around him slow and sparkle with a blue and white sheen.  He was confused, and when he suddenly realized he might get to strike Richard as the watch-mage was struggling to get back up the moment had passed. (6)  Gunthar, however, did not hesitate.  Having been _restored_ by Roland, he left the still frozen Razzle and leapt over, stabbing out with his short sword.  Richard rolled, but felt the bite of the blade.  Richard cried out as the Neergaardian’s longsword caught him on the forearm.

“No offense, guy,” Gunthar quipped as he readied to strike again, but he was forced to turn away as Norena leapt at him from behind.  He noticed Razzle up in his face and reeled as the rapier’s basket hilt struck him on the bridge of the nose.  Gunthar felt the thin blade’s sting twice more.  Richard hurried behind the swordsman.

“How is it that everyone was moving so fast?” Razzle asked.

“No, you were moving slow!” Roland replied.

“Ha ha! A Greyish Brother never moves slow!”

Kazrack stepped in to draw the enemy Bastite off, the point of his halberd scratching a deep wound in her flank.

“Where are the… Augh!” Cordell of Thoth suddenly reappeared near to where he was when the battle began, which unfortunately for him, was where the _stinking cloud_ now hovered.

“Norena, I have refrained from using tooth and claw out of respect for my fellow priest, but your failure to keep to our agreement requires chastisement,” Roland said, as the black panther priest leapt on the smaller tawny cheetah.  He worried her for a moment, but she escaped his grip and spun around roaring. 

Hoping that Norena could not see him as readily as Richard the Red did, Ratchis chopped down on Norena scoring a deep wound.  Again, he saw the moment unfold and he thought he might have a chance to act in the space between moments, but he his reason was too slow recognizing it to get his body to act.  However, Gunthar stabbed her deep with his shortsword and the cheetah fell over, unconscious.  Roland sniffed her and noted she was not bleeding out.  In fact, her wounds had already started to close on their own, albeit so slowly that it would be some time before she would wake up from such severe wounds. Left to her fate, she would not die. (7)

Cordell came around the table once again, wiping bile from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.  Be brought his shield to bare and swung at Gunthar, who leaped out of the way toward Martin  the Green, who was now just getting over another bout of nausea caused by the time fluctuations.  He was still on his knees beneath a corner of the table. The watch-mage spoke an arcane word and touched his companion, and suddenly Gunthar was invisible.

“Ha ha! You think my skills are such that your being invisible would hinder me!” Razzle laughed, as he danced over whipping his sword back and forth.  “I laugh at you both!”  He whipped his sword catching Ratchis in the upper arm.

“Richard! I have wait so long to bring justice to you at the end of my halberd!” Kazrack cried, charging at the crimson-robed mage.  Richard stumbled backward, barely avoiding being skewered, but his robes were torn and bloodied.

Once again the great hand shoved Ratchis away from the fight, but the hulking half-orc spun away from it and brought his sword down on Cordell’s shoulder from behind.  Crunching the armor there painfully.  The Librarian of Thoth, spun away from his invisible opponent, forgetting about Gunthar, who cut deep across the back of the priest’s thighs.  Cordell of Thoth fell the ground, unconscious.

“I’m buzzing like a hummingbird! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!” Razzle sang and suddenly moved with great speed, winding amid combatants unscathed to spin around on the other side of the table.  Deprived of his guardians, Richard was driven further back by Kazrack’s attempted savage blows.  The dwarf tried to hook the watch-mage’s ankle with his blade, but the mage was too quick to leap.

“Come on! You have them on the proverbial ropes!” Sergio encouraged back in his not-so-neutral corner.

“_Laxo veneficus!_” Richard the Red chanted carefully, dancing back and forth to avoid Kazrack’s pole-axe, and suddenly Gunthar and Ratchis were both visible, and Roland felt his _divine favor_ wash away.  The _stinking cloud_ disappeared.

The Bastite pounced at Richard, but the watch-mage stepped aside deftly to put the panther between him and Kazrack, but Gunthar stepped into the gap on the left, driving Richard back further to the corner across from Sergio’s.

“Richard, your companions are falling,” Roland hissed, as in the corner Sergio took up an encouraging tune.  “You may wish to consider surrender. I, for one, would argue for clemency for you…”

Once again, Ratchis was invisible at Martin’s word, but as the half-orc approached, Richard cast the same spell on Razzle. The swordsman had come rushing back in to draw off the Keepers of the Gate.  Suddenly, Richard disappeared and re-appeared on the far side of the room.  He looked as confused as the others.  

Ratchis surged forward swinging wide in the general area he had last seen Razzle, but felt contact with nothing.  Once again he sensed that time was slowing around him, and this time he was ready.  To everyone else he seemed to disappear for a moment and re-appear right next to Richard the Red.  But to the Friar of Nephthys, it was as if he were charging through a blue-white-tinted frozen world.  Unfortunately,  the watch-mage became aware at the last moment, and ducked the blow.  

“Come on, Martin! Make me invisible again!” Gunthar complained, as Sergio ran over and leapt atop the table to dance as he continued his song.  He directed certain lyrics at certain party members to praise their deeds, and they felt their limbs lighten.

“I can’t. I am all out,” Martin replied.  Gunthar opened mouth to make some remark, but suddenly he movements once again slowed way down.  His voice escaped him like a dull rumble in his lungs.  Cordell’s unconscious form disappeared in a flash of blue-white light.

Kazrack’s _slowed_ stubby legs took some time to carry him back around the table to thrust his halberd at Richard once again.  Meanwhile, Roland lagged behind sniffing the air for Razzle’s scent.

“_Cuspis ut mihi gresu vobis gelu!_ Richard the Red chanted loudly as he crush a small crystal cone in his hand.  A blast of violent cold came out of his fingers point blank on Ratchis and Kazrack.  Shivering and covered in bits of ice, his bones aching from the cold, Ratchis side-stepped and brought his sword down on the watch-mage.  The two combatants became a blur, with blue-white color trails of their deadly dance.  Richard stumbled back with worry on his dirty face.   However, before Ratchis could bring down a killing blow, he cried out feeling the bite of Razzle’s invisible sword. 

“Ha! You cannot defeat a Greyish Brother!” Razzle voice floated out of thin air.  The half-orc was forced to retreat from the melee to ask his goddess for healing.

Richard took the moment’s respite to turn to Kazrack, leaping deftly once again to avoid the tripping attack of the dwarf.  He cast another spell, but it was not clear what it was.  Kazrack brought another wide chop around, but a nip at his hand with an invisible rapier, caused him to draw back and close his guard, wary of the swashbuckler.

Roland noticed that Gunthar’s rapier wounds were still bleeding steadily despite the blonde warrior’s status, so once again he cast a spell of curing.  

Bastian came stumbling back into the room.  He had been frozen in the limbo of time in the paneled walls of the Library Chamber, what seemed only a few moments from his perspective, but he was still curious what was taking so long.

“Martin! Where are you? I thought you were coming!” He called.

“Martin is under the table,” Roland informed Bastian. “And beware, both Ratchis and Razzle are invisible somewhere in this room.”

Richard the Red took advantage of the momentary distraction and fled back across the room once again.  “You might want to know,” he announced, taking a swig of a something and throwing the glass vial down.  “There is someone else invisible in this room as well.”  Ratchis gave chase, drinking down another flask of the _Blood of Ashronk_.

Kazrack cried out as the felt many stinging blows at weak points in his full plate mail armor.  Now even more blood was pouring out beneath the heavy and binding metal and leather.  “Lady, I am about to fall from my wounds.  Please close whatever you can that I might still prevail before I fall…” He had withdrawn to cast.  Roland pawed over and cast _shield of faith_ on the dwarf.

Richard smirked as a crossbow quarrel skittered across the floor fired from under the table.  Bastian walked over to the table and squatted down, keeping one hand on the surface to steady himself. “Come on, Martin!  We need to get the Book out of here!”

“The enemy of your former companion is here,” Richard said, pointing to the raised area in the far corner, where a smaller dining table stood for more intimate gatherings. “One of the monks is there!”

“Nephthys, this may be my final battle.  I call on you to heal me one last time…” Ratchis prayed softly, hoping Razzle would not hear him.

“Where did that portal lead to?” Martin asked Bastian, crawling in that direction.

“It looked like the place you described when talking about killing the demoness,” Bastian replied.  “I think you called it the Library.  We should go… Agh!”

“You are not going anywhere!” Razzle laughed.  Bastian felt the rapier cut through his boot and deep into his foot.  He hobbled back and raised his shield. (8)

There as a flash of blue-white light and Richard, Razzle, Martin, Bastian and Gunthar seemed _dazed_.  Cordell re-appeared.  Roland took the moment of distraction to cast _cure moderate wounds_ on Kazrack.

“Quick! While he is distracted!” Ratchis cried, and he and Kazrack were moving to finish the battle when the entire chamber jerked, sending the half-orc off his feet.  A humming sound began to build.  The sound surrounded them, coming from all directions.  Even their skin began to hum.

“This is not good,” Martin the Green said, as the chamber shook again.

There was a blast of blue and white light once again, but then everything was black.

--------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	This session was played on November 12th, 2005.

(2) *DM’s Note:* Bullrushing has a knockdown score as a weapon or many spell attacks have, depending on the attacker’s size.  See the Aquerra.wiki for info on Knockdown.

	(3) *DM’s Note:* Cordell figured out where Ratchis was standing due to Richard’s indication, and succeeded on hitting despite a 50% miss chance.

	(4) *DM’s Note:* Hit points are divided into fourths with each fourth corresponding with a health condition we use to describe hit point loss without use of actual numbers.  _Critically wounded_ corresponds with less than one-fourth hit points left.

(5) *DM’s Note:* Each round everyone was making Will saves to resist the fluctuations of time.  Those who failed were unable to act for one or more rounds (depending on how poorly they failed). Those who made the save had a chance to take advantage of ‘pockets of time’ by making and Intelligence-based Reflex save, allowing for additional partial actions, and with a good enough roll, a full action. 

(6) *DM’s Note:* Ratchis failed his Int-based Reflex save for an opportunity to take extra actions on his turn.

(7) You can read about _Regenerate Critical Wounds_, here: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Spell+-+Regenerate+Serious+Wounds

(8) Bastian suffered the following critical hit effect: Foot Wound, Speed Reduced to ½. Save vs. Knockdown.  For more info on Piercing Weapon Critical Hit Effects, see http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Critical+Hit+Results+-+Piercing


----------



## handforged

Wow!

I can only say that I am on the edge of my seat waiting to see what happens next.

~hf


----------



## Gold Roger

You really know how to spice up a fight through the enviroment.


----------



## el-remmen

Gold Roger said:
			
		

> You really know how to spice up a fight through the enviroment.




It was just a room with some tables and chairs. 


If anything, I have trained my players to use the environment I present even when I had no special reason for it.


----------



## el-remmen

Hey, here's a question:

How many readers here actually click on the links to the wiki regarding more info on the setting or house rules?

Just curious if anyone ever found them useful, or it made them understand the action in the story better. 

Don't worry. I'll keep posting them regardless. . .


----------



## Gold Roger

I regularly take a look at the aquerra wiki.



> It was just a room with some tables and chairs...




...and a twist in time. Nothing special to see there, move along.


----------



## Richard Rawen

el-remmen said:
			
		

> . . . How many readers here actually click on the links to the wiki regarding more info on the setting or house rules? . . .




I've perused them a few times, I run a bit higher magic campaign yet I've really enjoyed gleaning from your experiences and insights. I particularly like your backgrounding. The foundation you have laid for this campaign world is superb, from the gods to the wars to the cultures to the propehcies... and oh so much more!
I tip my hat to a top-notch campaign design.


----------



## Manzanita

Richard Rawen said:
			
		

> I've perused them a few times, I run a bit higher magic campaign yet I've really enjoyed gleaning from your experiences and insights. I particularly like your backgrounding. The foundation you have laid for this campaign world is superb, from the gods to the wars to the cultures to the propehcies... and oh so much more!
> I tip my hat to a top-notch campaign design.




ditto.  I follow the links sometimes, depending upon how much time I have to kill after finishing the story.  That would be none, lately.

I wish the party had been able to avoid fighting this battle.  The enemy doesn't seem evil, really.  I'd be interested in some DM commentary about what would have happened if they'd yeilded to Richard's requests.  Perhaps that would contain spoilers and would have to wait.


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> I wish the party had been able to avoid fighting this battle.  The enemy doesn't seem evil, really.  I'd be interested in some DM commentary about what would have happened if they'd yeilded to Richard's requests.  Perhaps that would contain spoilers and would have to wait.




I think it is always difficult to say what _would_ have happened, but I cannot imagine Martin's player agreeing to allowed to have his soul and body corrupted to _become_ Marchosias, and cause the kind of evil that would have come with him back in the world (if you see the history of Aquerra Marchosias was responsible for world-spanning war earlier in the Age).

However, I could imagine the party itself being split on what should be done. But as it was they were pretty united behind the idea that Martin needed to destroy the Book of Black Circles, regardless of the circumstances because it was the will of a god.


----------



## handforged

How long will I have to wait until my next fix?  I'm terribly impatient these days.  I absolutely must know how this is going to end.

~hf


----------



## BlackCat

handforged said:
			
		

> How long will I have to wait until my next fix?  I'm terribly impatient these days.  I absolutely must know how this is going to end.
> 
> ~hf



You picked an interesting time to mention the end, ~hf. Not to be facetious, but beginnings and endings don't mean much if anything at this point in the adventure. It's all about the journey. Soon, it will be about more than even that. Sometimes it's best to go back to the beginning before you even contemplate an end.

I know. You're thinking "Blahblahblah. Shut up, BC." I don't blame you. Look back at this after the next installment and you'll see what I mean. I just hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

BlackCat


----------



## el-remmen

BlackCat said:
			
		

> Look back at this after the next installment. . .
> BlackCat




Whoa!  I think you're getting a little ahead of yourself, buddy.  

Or at least ahead of what there is left to write. . .


----------



## Richard Rawen

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Whoa!  I think you're getting a little ahead of yourself, buddy.
> 
> Or at least ahead of what there is left to write. . .





SO SHOW US ! 


ahem... erm, uh, please?


----------



## Tony Vargas

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Hey, here's a question:
> 
> How many readers here actually click on the links to the wiki regarding more info on the setting or house rules?



Yes, every time.  Interesting stuff.   Often there are similarities to things I used to do running under 1E & 2E...



> DM’s Note: Hit points are divided into fourths with each fourth corresponding with a health condition we use to describe hit point loss without use of actual numbers.



Like that, almost exactly, in fact.  CMW didn't exist back then, so my categories were Light, Serious, Critical, and Mortal, IIRC.  The corresponding Cure...Wounds spell restored the same proportion of you hps, which seriously beefed up healing at higher levels (you did have the option to roll the dice, too - for instance, when healing a lower-level character).


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #99 (part ii)*

The first thing Martin the Green noticed was a chilling silence.  It seemed tangible, like the crispness of a late autumn morning.  He held his breath and could not even hear the blood pumping in his ears, though he felt it.  Martin opened his eyes.

The Dining Room chamber was dimmer than it had been, but everything was covered in a fuzzy blue glow.  The watch-mage sat up and noticed all his companions and recent foes were unconscious, though some had their eyes open.  Roland was back in human form.  Martin carefully crept over to Richard the Red and waved his hand in front of the mage’s face.  There was no reaction. And there was no sound still.  He could not even hear his own steps. He stepped over to the nearby Kazrack, slapping and shaking the dwarf to no avail.  He even yanked on Kazrack’s beard, but nothing…

Movement up by the raised area in one corner of the chamber caught Martin’s attention.  It was a monk he had never seen before.  The olive-skinned man wore simple grey woolen trousers with a similarly colored shift above it, cinched with a black velvet rope belt.  He wore leather sandals, and his head was clean shaven except for a thin patch of long black hair at the very base of his skull that reached halfway down his back. The monk was covered in scars.  Deep whorls have been carved into his scalp, and his face bore the criss-cross marks of a cat o’nine tails purposefully whipped back and forth across it.  The bit of his muscular chest that Martin could see beneath the man’s shift was covered in scars as well.  He held a spear with a nasty three-edged head gingerly in his hands, and had a straw rucksack over his shoulders.  The monk was walking down toward Martin calmly.

The watch-mage tried to speak, but no sound came. He quickly stepped to his left and snatched up Richard the Red’s satchel of material components.  The monk continued to walk forward, but leaned his spear on the table and raised his hands slowly in a gesture of peace.

Martin the Green never took his eyes off of him as he stepped over and kicked Razzle’s rapier away from the half-elf’s unconscious form.  The monk pointed to the far portal, pointed to Martin and pointed again.

Martin fished in his pouch and pulled out a piece of chalk and rolled it across the large stone table to the monk.  The monk nodded again and taking the chalk, wrote on the table in careful block letters, “_I AM ADDER._” 

Martin gulped silently as Adder went on writing. “_COME. LET US FIND THE PORTAL TO THE PLANE WHERE THE LOST GOD IS TRAPPED._”

Martin brandished a second piece of chalk.  “I will go with you, if you allow me a few moments to finish up some business here and leave my friends a message.”  He wrote in a halting script as the chalk wore down.

The monk nodded.

Martin the Green proceeded to awkwardly roll both Richard the Red and Razzle Greyish up in rugs, and tie them up.  He checked on Cordell and Norena.  They were still gravely wounded, but stable.

“THESE ARE OF NO CONSEQUENCE,” Adder chalked onto the table, after a time.  Martin was not doing a good job of casually stalling, as he was hoping his companions would wake up.  He held a finger up to the monk and gestured to Ratchis and walked over to the half-orc.   He kneeled beside his unconscious companion and reaching down into the pouch that held _the Wurfel Kraft_ he activated it to keep out all living matter.  

Adder walked over, hands clasped behind his back and examined the cube.   Martin searched Ratchis until he found one of the clay flasks held the _Blood of Ashronk_ and tried to pour the contents down the half-orc’s throat.  Ratchis choked for a moment, but finally Martin was able to massage it down.  Martin sighed when after a moment Ratchis did not awaken.

He looked up at Adder and the monk pointed once again to the portal.

Martin’s shoulders sagged as he depressed the side of the stone cube depicting a still pond and the blue field disappeared. He left the cube with Ratchis. He walked over to the table and took his time to write one last message.  Adder walked over, looked at it and shrugged.  They were nonsense words. He picked up another piece of chalk and wrote, “_THIS IS POINTLESS.  COME AND FACE YOUR DESTINY._”

“What destiny is that?” Martin wrote.

“_OSIRIS’ WILL,_ was all he wrote in reply.

“And your will, too?” Martin wrote.

“_THEY ARE PARALLEL FOR THE TIME._”  Adder threw the chalk onto the stone table and it shattered, but his face never lost its vacant look.  He pointed to the portal once again.

“Thomas?” Martin the Green sent his awareness towards his familiar, who was hidden beneath his backpack, beneath the table.  

”Yes? that bad monk man gone, yet? I still smell him,” the squirrel chittered.

“I need to go with him, Thomas, and I need you stay here,” Martin replied.  “You cannot come where I am going.”

“No!’ Thomas refused.  He came running out from under the pack and up to the watch-mage’s shoulder.

“You have to stay,” Martin said again. “Stay with Ratchis.  He will take good care of you. I fear I won’t be coming back from where I am going now…”

“Not ever?”

Martin just shook his head.  He scratched Martin under the chin and then patted his little head and placed him on Ratchis’ chest.  He looked at Adder and nodded.  The monk gestured towards the portal and Martin walked through it.  Adder followed closely behind.

They passed through the Entrance Chamber with its para-elemental corners.  Martin noticed that sound had returned as they passed through the portal.

“Do you know which way to go?” Adder asked. His voice was dry sand falling over rocks. “I am just guessing.  So if you have a better idea of which way to go to reach the gate…”

“I have none,” Martin replied.  The next chamber was the Kitchen, and Adder led straight ahead through it into a chamber Martin had never seen before.

It was another finely appointed room with polished marble floors, and walls covered in wood panels below and light lavender stucco above.   As they walked down a narrow hall, turning into a wider sitting room, Martin noted a twelve foot tall of a shirtless man with a broad chest, bald head and skull cap. (1)  He noticed another identical statue on the other side of the sitting room. They were clearly of Hurgun of the Stone.

“Well, Hurgun certainly doesn’t seem to have any lack of vanity…” Martin commented. Adder did not respond.  He just set a quick pace through the next portal, and in a moment they back in the Dining Room.  It was no longer silent.

Adder stopped.

“What is it?” Martin asked.  But the monk just pointed to the left and led that way. Martin looked over his companions sadly and followed. They hurried on through that portal and were in the wood paneled halls of the Library Chamber, where they had finally slain Ora-Amira-El. They went through the opposite portal this time, and came out underneath the tiers of the Earth Room Audience Chamber.  Martin was startled at how quiet it was.

As they walked out through the central area Martin noticed the tiers were filled with many motionless modrons.  Adder took no notice, once again leading the way to the opposite portal.  The portcullis leading to the portal slammed shut behind them of its own accord, startling Martin.  Adder took no notice, he just stepped through the portal, pushing Martin ahead of him.  They appeared in the dim light of the Hell Chamber.  Adder’s pace only flagged when he noticed Martin the Green had tarried by the pedestal in the center of the room.  The watch-mage noticed the sapphire that supposedly held the spirit of a dwarven king was back upon it. (2)

“Your destiny…” Adder whispered.

“Yes, yes! My destiny, I know…” Martin muttered continuing to follow the monk.  He rubbed the crusty wound on the side of his face.

Adder stepped through the portal and Martin followed.  Beyond was a chamber shrouded in pitch darkness.  Martin waited a moment.  

“The gate is over there,” came Adder’s voice out of the darkness, but Martin did not reply.  The watch-mage ducked back through the portal as quietly as he could and began to run for the opposite portal, stopping only to scoop up the sapphire.  He was through the Hell Chamber and halfway through around the Library Chamber halls, when he was startled by the sound of something beside him.  He looked to see Adder standing there, and then jerked as he felt sharp kick to his lower leg that dropped him to the floor.

Martin looked up at the monk standing above him, his horrific scared face betraying no anger.  Martin scrambled to his feet and continued to run.  He ran around the corner, and felt a blow from behind as he stumbled to the floor again.  This was followed up by another kick.  Martin threw himself through the portal and was on his feet again, taking off across the Dining Room, he put the sapphire in a fold of Kazrack’s clothes.

Adder walked through the portal as Martin was shoving Richard’s component pouch under Ratchis’ unconscious form.  He stepped away from the half-orc rapidly.

“You’re back!” Thomas chittered in the mage’s mind.

“Not for long…” Martin replied.

“Enough games,” Adder said. “I thought as an alumnus of the Academy you would have some pride about how you face your fate, but if you must be coerced, so be it.”  

The monk walked over to Ratchis of Nephthys, and took a deep breath, holding his hand up before him.  Martin noticed Adder’s hand shaking with intensity and with a finer and finer arc until, when it was perfectly still, the monk drove his open palm down in the half-orc’s neck, leaving a purple line of bruise.

“Now, I need only will it and your friend will die,” Adder said, calmly.  “Shall he die? Or shall you come?  If you do not believe me, I can kill him now and apply the quivering palm of Anubis upon another companion, to prove that I will do it.”

“No!” Martin raised his hands.  “I will come.”  The watch-mage followed the monk from the Dining Room once again.

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

It was impossible to tell how much later Kazrack Delver awoke.

He sat up and noticed something fall from his chest to his lap.  He fished for it blindly as he looked around at his unconscious friends, and the strange sight of Richard the Red and Razzle rolled and tied up in rugs.  His calloused fingers felt the smoothness of the gem and startled, he raised it to his eye.

“Natan-ahb’s Beard!” he exclaimed.

“What happened?” Bastian groaned, getting up onto his arm.  He looked around groggily.  “Oh! Everything is sparkling…”

“One of these bastards cast a spell that went out of control and zapped us all,” Gunthar swore as he leapt to his feet and walked over to the bound duelist, giving him a swift kick.

“He is already bound.  There is no need to harm him anymore. Anyway, I think we might be in Plane of Time, whatever that means,” Kazrack said, standing and looking  around with some wonder at the shining all around them.  He noticed  Martin’s gray squirrel leap from Ratchis’ chest onto the table top.  “Look, it is Martin’s animal!  Hmm, where is Martin?”

N’kron, Bastian’s hawk familiar, flew over from a corner of the room where he has been standing on one of the cabinets.   When the bird landed on the table, the squirrel took off for Ratchis once again.

“Heh, three gulps!” N’kron said to his master.  Bastian chided his familiar.

“Maybe one of these bastards knows,” Gunthar pointed down at Razzle and kicked him again, harder than the first time.

“Maybe this writing is a clue,” Bastian said, point to the table top.

“I cannot read human letters,” Kazrack said.  Bastian shrugged and shook his head.

“Step aside, dummies!” Gunthar walked over and began to sound out what had been written as best he could.  “There are two different sets of hand-writing, and some of this is friggin’ nonsense!”  Gunthar sounded out the syllables of the last message Martin had written.

“The pronunciation is all wrong, but it is almost like dwarven,” Kazrack frowned.

“Martin was obviously using the chalk messages to communicate with someone else who was here, Adder…” Bastian said.

“Adder?!!” Kazrack exclaimed, as Ratchis stirred.  

“If he was being observed, he might have written in phonetic dwarven in hopes of leaving a secret message,” Bastian continued. “Gunthar read it again, but slower…”

“It’s nonsense!” Gunthar repeated.

“Gunthar, please do it…” Kazrack said

The Neergaardian smirked, but began to read it again.

“’Snake here?’” Kazrack scratched his beard.

“An adder is a kind of snake,” Ratchis said.

“’Everyone is knocked?’” Kazrack continued the awkward translation. “’Must go to Dark Room! Help!’”

“We have to do after him,” Ratchis said. By this time, Roland had awakened as well. “But I am worried about what trouble these two might get into if we leave them here.”  The half-orc pointed to Razzle and Richard.

“Simple,” Gunthar said, and he drew a single finger across his neck.

“Richard certainly deserves it ,” Kazrack replied

Ratchis walked over to the crimson-robed watch-mage and drew his long curved hunting knife, but finally sighed and slipped the weapon back in its sheath. “No,” he said.  “Martin had commitments to return him to justice and it is for him to decide.”

“Then ya have ta trust to a knot them,” Gunthar laughed.  The half-orc nodded and went over and checked the bonds.  Richard was still unconscious and well-tied, but he discovered Razzle had been playing at still being knocked out and had wriggled nearly enough to be free.  The Friar of Nephthys rolled him over roughly and tightened the bonds again, using some of his rope to make sure the half-elf was fastened well.

“You have won due to unforeseen events,” Razzle grunted. “There is no need to be cruel.  We are beaten.  Cherish the victory, for in a fair duel, none can defeat a Greyish Brother.”

“Martin might already be dead,” Roland said, ignoring the swordsman.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ratchis replied, pausing to give Thomas a scratch, as the squirrel was on his shoulder. “We cannot abandon a friend.  We need to know what happened to him and let him choose freely to do what he has to do, not be coerced by some fallen monk.”

Kazrack nodded.  Sergio stirred from atop the table where he lay.  They took a moment to quickly explain what was happening.

Roland noticing Norena was not far from consciousness, hog tied her with more than a little bit of lingering spite.  He then gagged her and Cordell.  As the Thothian was more wounded, the Bastite was gentler with him when tying him up.

Roland shifted back into his dark panther-form and started to smell around the room as Ratchis looked around for the sign of a track.

“This way!” Roland said, gesturing with his head towards one of the portals.  A few moments later Ratchis found the slightest imprint of a sandal in the soot in the halls of the Entrance Room, and led the group through a portal to the Kitchen.  They stopped again as Roland sniffed and Bastian and Ratchis looked for any sign of passage.  

“He was here,” Roland said.  “I think they were traveling in a straight line from room to room.”

The rest of the Keepers of the Gate, along with Sergio, followed Roland through the portal into the Library.  A green thread led them back into the Dining Room.

“You must have made a mistake in your tracking,” Kazrack said.

“Or they left the Dining Room and came back, and then left again,” Roland speculated.  “Could we be experiencing some kind of prolonged disruption of time that is confusing us?  I mean… that _was_ what we were experiencing before, right?”

“It was strange, whatever it was,” Kazrack said.  “Strange and unnatural.  I did not like it.”

“For once I agree with you,” Roland said.

“There is hope for you yet,” Kazrack replied.  Roland snarled, but good-naturedly.

They decided to go back to the Library Chamber and try one of the other two portals.  Soon they were in the Audience Chamber with the many ‘sleeping’ modrons.  Guessing that perhaps Martin and the monk did not know where they were going either and were being methodical in their search, Ratchis led the group towards the opposite portal, but the portcullis to the tunnel beneath the tiers that led to it was closed.  

Thomas leapt off of Ratchis’ shoulder and between the bars.    Ratchis tried to lift it and found it was locked.

“Do we need to apply more strength?” Kazrack asked.

Ratchis shook his head and took _the First Key_ from his belt of chain links and touched it to the gate.  There was a click.  He lifted it and the party passed through, finding Thomas waiting for them on the other side.  They went through the portal and found themselves in the Hell Chamber.

Ratchis, Roland and Bastian began to look around carefully, but little was coming of it.

“Perhaps it was Martin who left me the gem,” Kazrack said, looking at the empty pedestal at the center of the room.  “He came here, took the gem, left it with me and then left again.”

“Why would he do that?” Ratchis asked.

Kazrack shrugged.

“Which way do we go?” Roland asked.  

“That way,” Kazrack pointed, leaving it to luck. The others shrugged and they made their way through that portal and into a room cloaked in darkness.

*End of Session #99*

-----------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	This was the “Chambers” room. The layout of this chamber can be seen behind the sblock: [sblock]
	

	
	
		
		

		
			





[/sblock]

(2) This was last seen in Session #93, when the dwarf, Aitan Absalom took off with it.


----------



## Manzanita

Cool update.  Things really do seem to be coming to a close.  I was bit surprised to find a new NPC at this point, what with how they usually reoccur so much.  Anyway, looking forward to the next installment.


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## Gold Roger

I'm really interested in seeing how this will turn out. I'm also really glad Adder does indeed still play a big role, even without Beorth.

I've seen in your wiki that there's also an Adder listed among PC's. Is this the same guy and if yes, what's the story?

So, appart from the book and Adder, these things are left to be resolved:

-A frikkin big orc army led by a dragon, interested in the maze and just outside of it.

-A very troublesome half-dragon hunting said dragon

-What's-his-name-again, Jana's old mentor.

-And of course the matter of fixing the maze itself.


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## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> I was bit surprised to find a new NPC at this point, what with how they usually reoccur so much.  Anyway, looking forward to the next installment.




Adder is only "new" in the sense that he has never appeared before, but he was mentioned many times over the course of the campaign.


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## el-remmen

Gold Roger said:
			
		

> I've seen in your wiki that there's also an Adder listed among PC's. Is this the same guy and if yes, what's the story?




Yes.

Adder was a PC in my 2E The Oath Campaign that was not around for long.  The player was enamoured of all the cool things monks could do without without having the temperment to play one well and still have fun.  So, Adder spent a short time as an NPC, where I explained away his odd behavior (when being played miserably by the player) as a crisis in faith, and in time he wandered off his own way.  

The player went on to play a priestess of Isis (and there were problems there, too - basically, his usual need to have the last word and blast stuff led to a TPK after 3 years of playing the campaign).

Later, when I was developing Rahkefet's order of monks, I thought it would be cool if Adder came back as a villian.

Only Jeremy's player played in that same campaign with Adder, and honestly I doubt if he even remembered him when he was mentioned when Jeremy's player was still in the game.


----------



## handforged

I am incredibly interested to know what is going to happen next.  Martin's quick thinking with the chalk was quite nice.  Phonetic Dwarven.  I love it!  The negative energy plane should be quite the trick.

~hf


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## Richard Rawen

That was a lot of fun!  Kind of like a movie experience, so surreal and foreboding and, well, _inevitable_.
Good writing, I hope Martin survives!  In truth I am hoping that Martin more than survives... Isis is supposed to be one of the good guys (gals... ) so I am holding out for Martin to come away from this experience restored and made whole, especially emotionally!
I really appreciate how deep you've drawn these characters... very much looking forward to each episode as we draw towards the finale.


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## el-remmen

I am glad you are enjoying it! 

I hope to post the complete events of Session #100 at some point this weekend (probably Sunday) - in which we learn Martin's fate and things are set up for the final battle(s).


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## el-remmen

By the way, by my recent calculations, if I continue on the rate in which I posted the last four full sessions, then this story hour (not including two "reunion sessions") will be completed on or around the 10th of December.


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## el-remmen

*3 sessions to go. . .*

*Session #100 (complete)*

“Be careful, there is a great maw in that corner that acts as a gate,” Adder said.

“I’m surprised the big mouth in the floor isn’t the way we have to go,” Martin the Green replied. He could hear the smacking and licking of the giant mouth in cloying darkness.

“That way leads the Abyss,” Adder said.  “It is the sliver of dark that you want.  Hold out your hand. I will guide you.”

“You can see?”

“I can.”

Martin the Green attempted to cast _darkvision_, but it did not seem to work.

“That will not work,” Adder said.

“How is it you can see?” Martin asked.

“I have a clearer vision of the world. Darkness cannot abate my senses,” Adder answered.  “Take up the Book of Black Circles and you may be able to see.”

Martin hesitated, and raised his arm out instead, feeling the monk take his elbow and walk him towards one corner of the unseen Dark Room chamber.

“It is before you, you need only…” Adder began.

“Why are you doing this?  Why do you want it to happen?” Martin the Green asked.

“You already know the answer. You are trying to stall again,” Adder replied.  His sibilant voice tickling the watch-mage’s ear from close beside him in the dark.

“No, I am serious,” Martin insisted.  “Why do you want to do this?”

“You know of the weakness of men.  You know how flawed and far from the divine they truly are,” Adder said, calmly. “Even those with good intentions can cause the greatest of evil.  Everything they touch goes awry and sours.  The  stench of corruption hangs on every act of humanity. But no longer, when our lord  returns, he shall be a beacon to all who wander from what they once cherished, so they might see the falseness of it all.  But the meaning of it lies in rejecting those laws and rules from a place where you once held them to be true.  Does that answer your question?”

“That is pathetic,” Martin spat.  “You are doing this because you are a failure at following Anubis and you are justifying it by turning to Rahkefet.  It is your own weakness that is at fault here.”

“You may try and bait me into anger, but it will not serve you,” Adder replied.  “You have just iterated the essence of our order. We have no shame at being flawed men.  It is the flaw that makes us men.  We embrace it.”

“If I were to follow your view, I would turn away from this task you want me to undertake.”

“But you will not,” Adder said.  “There are ironies in this universe, and one just might be that for more to become lost, you must stay true to your path.  One extreme reinforces the other.”

Martin the Green did not reply.  He took a deep breath and unsealed the form-fitting bag about the Book of Black Circles.  It was all he carried with him, having left all his gear and magical items back with his companions, except for the book and _Lacan’s Demise_, which he still wore.  He shuddered as his fingers brushed the leathery hide of the book’s cover, but suddenly the darkness around him abated.  The room was still dim, but now he could see there was something in each corner of this room:  A slavering mouth fifteen feet across on the floor near where they had entered the chamber, a mirror of red-black glass in a black iron frame that steamed, and a strange metal wheel set with colored glass before a blank white wall.  The wheel had a crank and handle attached.

Before him the portal to the negative material plane was a shivering sliver of black light hovering before a paneled partition.  Martin stepped forward and looked at it from one side, and saw it did not touch the partition, and nor did it have any depth.  He sighed again, and then got down on his knees and lowered his head.

“Osiris, show me what to do,” he prayed aloud.  “What must I do to avert the disaster that may come of this?”

“Before you is what Osiris would have you do,” Adder said. “Any means you find to get around what you fear doing will just be admitting that the way the order I founded looks at things is the right way…”

“Need I do anything special to step through?”  Martin looked up at the scarred monk’s face.  It was as impassive as ever.

“All you need do is will yourself through and take a step,” Adder replied.  “But let me warn you, if you touch it without sufficiently willing yourself you will only suffer some of the consequences of having passed through, without passing through…”

“What is the nature of this portal?” Martin asked. “How does it hang here?”

“Martin…” Adder paused.  

“Adder?”

“You are stalling again.  Need I remind you of the half-breed’s fate if you should not go though?” (1)

Martin the Green sighed profoundly once more, and then standing straight, took another deep breath and stepped through with his eyes open.

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

There was confusion among the other Keepers of the Gate as they entered the Dark Room.  Both Bastian and Ratchis tried to cast _light_ spells, but neither worked.

“Huh? What is going on? Someone get some light in here,” Gunthar said.

“Light does not work in here for some reason,” Ratchis replied.

“I guess they call it ‘the Dark Room’ for a reason,” Roland quipped.  “However, I can tell you the smell in this place is nearly overwhelming.  Blech!”

 “Ugh! What terrible things are in this room!” Sergio cried as he came in. “Watch where you walk!   There is a slavering maw in the floor larger than the mouth of a well, and it seems… well, _alive_!”

“You can see?” Ratchis asked.

“Yes… Can’t you?  I mean, it is dim, but…”

“There is nothing here but darkness,” Kazrack said.

“How is it you can see?” Roland asked.  “What else is there in here?”

“I don’t know why I can see and you cannot, perhaps I am simply blessed, but the chamber seems much like the others in size, and there are objects in each corner of the room, which the mouth is one of.  There is also a scarred monk looking at us from a place across the room.  He stands by a partition with some plane of black light before it…” Sergio described the scene.

“Step forward, monk!” Kazrack bellowed into the darkness, slamming the butt of his halberd into the stone floor.  “We would speak with about the location of our friend, Martin the Green.”

For a long moment, there was only the sound of their breathing, and the disturbing smack of the abyssal maw in the floor in the darkness, but then Adder spoke. “Then you may as well go back from whence you came, for he has already gone on to complete his destined task.  You will not see him again…”

“And why is that?” Kazrack asked.

“He has passed on bodily out of this world to the realm from whence evil originates,” Adder replied.  “He is dead.  Gone forever.”

“We should go after him!” Kazrack said, addressing his companions.  “He should not have to enter into the realm of death alone.”

“Actually, that is _exactly_ what he had to do,” Roland said.

“Monk!  Which way did he go?” Kazrack called across the Dark Room.

Again, a long silence, and finally the voice came. “He had to allow himself to be swallowed by the mouth in the floor.”

“Kazrack, you are not going into that mouth,” Ratchis told the dwarf.

”We have to free Hurgun…” Roland began.

“Well, if we must abandon Martin to his own demise, then should we not at least destroy the mouth, so this god he going to awaken won’t come back through it?” Kazrack asked.

“Adder,” Roland called to the monk, ignoring Kazrack. “If Martin has gone to his death, why is it you still wait here?”

”I am on my way out,” Adder replied.

“Since you don’t seem to be leaving just yet, do you mind telling us what exactly happened while the rest of us were unconscious?” Roland asked.

There was no reply.  Sergio confirmed that the monk was still standing very still by the iron mirror.

“Didn’t Martin say something about a mirror?” Kazrack mused aloud.  “Perhaps it was really the mirror Martin went through and the monk guards it so it will not be broken and keep his god from entering the world…”

Ratchis leaned over to the dwarf and whispered, “Or else he waits here because he fears we might attack him and in the dark he has the advantage.”  The half-orc knelt beside Roland and repeated his thoughts, and went on to add. “If Martin is gone we must trust him to do what he was meant to do.”

He leaned back over to Kazrack and continued with his whispering.  “All we can do is try to find a way to brighten the room to fight that mouth thing, or simply leave and see if we can free Hurgun.  There is nothing left to be done for Martin.”

“I am…” Kazrack began at normal tone.

“Whisper,” Ratchis admonished.

“I said, I am…” Kazrack voice grew a bit louder with anger.

“Whisper,” Ratchis said more gently.

“I am…Stop shushing me!  I do not care that this foul monk hears what I have to say,” the dwarf barked.  “I do not want to leave whatever portal used open for a god to come through.  If we cannot fight the mouth, but we may be able to destroy the other portals and deal with the mouth later.”

“We have no reason to think a god will pass through any of these portals,” Ratchis said to Kazrack.  “If it is truly a god, what does some portal here matter?  So destroying the portal may make no difference to the god, but might have bad consequences for us.  We should not do it.”

“Hey the monk is stepped closer,” Sergio reported.  “He is near the middle of the room now!”

“Adder, please move off,” Roland warned.  “Did he move off?” he asked Sergio.

“No,” the bard replied. Roland growled.

“We cannot start a conflict in here,” Ratchis whispered to the Bastite.

”I know, but… it is just rude!” Roland replied.

“But it is rude to whisper in front of people, too,” Bastian quipped.

“What kind of consequences?” Kazrack forged on with his point.

“The portals may hold something out…” Ratchis speculated.

“You know who’d know the answer?” Gunthar asked.

“Martin?” Roland replied.

”Ya damn right, Martin!” Gunthar laughed. 

“You know, it is possible that Martin may return and Master Adder here is deceiving us, and wishes our watch-mage some ill,” Roland said.  “If Martin does return, I do not want Adder here when it happens.”

“Monk!” Kazrack called across the room again.  “Why have you not left?  Did you not say you were leaving?”  He turned to Roland.  “Can you not sniff him out?”

“The stench is too foul in here,” Roland complained again.

“There are six of us and one of him,” Kazrack said.  “Even in the dark we should be able to defeat him.”

“Um, he can hear what you are saying, Kazrack,” Bastian said.

“He’s got rocks for brains,” Gunthar laughed again.

”Monks are fleet-footed, and did not Beorth say Adder was the head of the order of the monks of Rahkefet? I am not so sure,” Ratchis said.  “But if Martin returns we may be forced to act anyway…”

“How long should we wait?” Kazrack asked.

“A day? That should be long enough to see if he returns,” Ratchis replied.

“But shouldn’t we be trying to free Hurgun?” Bastian asked.

“It’s okay, since we are in the Plane of Time, we essentially have all the time in the world,” Roland reasoned.

“Or no time at all,” Bastian replied.

“There is that view of it, too…”

“We should go about our business,” Bastian said, his voice was still his usuall steady breathy sound with many pauses. “I know I did not know Martin as long as the rest of you and am not as familiar with his quest, but from what he told me, no one expected him to survive it, so why are you expecting it now?”

“He is our friend, and sometimes it is hard to accept the death of a friend, especially when he is not lying there dead to be seen with your own eyes,” Ratchis replied, sadly.  He felt Thomas convulse on his shoulder and the squirrel let out a squeak.

“He’s friggin’ dead!” Gunthar yelled. “He said he would be, and he’s been a friggin’ nancy-boy about it the whole time I knew him, but he’s gone and he’s done it, which is more than I ever thought he’d accomplish.”

The room rumbled faintly, in a way reminiscent of just before they had all been knocked out during their combat with Richard the Red and his companions.

“Adder, if I may ask,” Roland called to the monk.  “Why did you turn apostate?”

There was a long silence, broken only by another rumble and a fleeting sense of vertigo.

“Oh, I don’t like that,” Sergio grumbled.

“I found the rules of Anubis to be hollow,” Adder finally replied.  “I discovered all the rules and customs of all the gods are equally valid or invalid, and thus have no real weight at all, except that which we choose to give them.”

“That is true of the human gods,” Kazrack said.

“I said, all gods, and I mean, all of them, regardless of the race that revere them,” Adder continued.  

“Even Rahkefet?” Roland asked.

“Even Rahkefet,” Adder replied.  “But my master knows that failure and corruption are the true eternal gifts of mortals.  The laws of the gods only have meaning in this world in terms of how far short we mortals fall of them, and we always fall short.”

“But what does Rahkefet want?” Kazrack asked.

”For men to be as men are.”

“And that is…?” Roland asked.

“Men are untrustworthy,” Adder said.

“Yes,” Kazrack nodded in the dark.

“They abandon customs and laws when they become old and inconvenient,” Adder continued.

“Yes,” Kazrack said, again.

“On a whim, sometimes…” Adder said.

“Yes!” Kazrack said. “On that we are in full agreement.”

“The same is true of dwarves,” Adder added.

“Bah!” Kazrack scoffed.  “Dwarves may change, but if so only as rocks with water.  And if a man remains steadfast, what does Rahkefet think?”

“No man remains steadfast in his heart,” Adder replied.

“I am loyal to my goddess no matter what!” Roland protested.

“Sucking on the teats of the cat goddess may bring you some power,” Adder said. “But you are still but a mewling kitten.”

”Mmmmm, I love sucking on some teats!” Gunthar laughed.

“I think you are a liar,” Roland said, anger growing in his voice.  “I think something happened to embitter you against Anubis, and you drape it in philosophical nonsense…”

“Perhaps there was something,” Adder replied.  “But if so, it was only the trigger that allowed me to see clearly.  I have forgotten most of my former life, perhaps you might ask my one time companions, the Oath… They might tell you a version of the tale that fits the illusions you refuse to dispel.”

“What must I do to understand?” Kazrack asked.

“Give up everything you have,” Adder replied.

“I have nothing to give up.”

“Your weapons, your companions, the bag of stones about your neck,” Adder said.

“I cannot.”

“Then you will never understand.”

“Kazrack, is there a point to all of this?” Ratchis asked his companion.

“I am just killing time,” Kazrack said.  “Waiting for Martin’s return.  Unless you have changed your mind about destroying the gates.”

“No…” Ratchis said.

“Martin may still come through one,” Roland said.

“Martin will never return,” Adder voice came out of the darkness.

“You sound like the voice of doubt in my mind,” Roland replied.  “But I have faith in my heart, and never listen to doubts.”

“Doubt and faith are two sides to the same coin,” Adder said.  “No matter how many times it flips, the outcome will always lead you astray.”

“I have faith he is coming back,” Roland said.

“Even Martin said he is not coming back,” Bastian said.  “I think we are accomplishing nothing by staying here.  The Maze is already in the deep realm of the Plane of Time, which means it is far from Aquerra, and no longer poses a threat to Greenreed Valley and beyond.  We should be looking for a way out.”

“We still need to free Hurgun,” Roland said. “If we hope to get out of here, he will be the one to see that it happens.  We need to go to the Control Room and free him, even if we don’t know how.” 

“Maybe we _should_ go,” Ratchis said, and suddenly the entire chamber rumbled and then jerked. Everyone was forced to fight to keep their balance.  Bastian fell and slide fifteen feet across the room with a yelp.

“We go,” Roland said.  Ratchis nodded, and Kazrack sighed his assent.   The whole Maze rumbled again.

The Keepers of the Gate hurried back out of the portal after a few bumbling moments in the dark.  Ratchis led the way.  The first portal led to the Light Room, so they ran through that into the Hell Room. Here the screaming man in the dark corner of the chamber (2) had slid out of his place, and his agonizing bellows clawed at their ears. On a hunch, Ratchis led the group to the right, and they were back into the Water Room, with its rows of faux columns, marble walls and pool of blue-green water. (3)

As they hurried around the pool, a great vaguely humanoid-shaped wave rose up in and smashed out at Roland and Kazrack, sending them flying back bruised against the wall.  Roland, still in panther-form, made a beeline for the portal on the left, sliding and tumbling to avoid another watery tentacle that waved out at him.  The Bastite leapt through the portal.  Gunthar was right behind him.

Ratchis dragged Kazrack behind him as the dwarf struggled to get back up, and Bastian hung back trying to draw the thing off to let the others escape.  Sergio pushed past Ratchis and Kazrack and hurried through the portal after the others, as Bastian grunted with the pain of a blow from the water elemental.

Kazrack managed to get out of the chamber on his own feet, and Ratchis turned back to look at Bastian, who was making his way to the portal as well.  The half-orc grabbed him and pushed the bearded warrior through the portal, going through as well, close behind.  

They found themselves back in the Kitchen Chamber, and quickly Roland and Ratchis used some of their healing on the failing dwarf.  They decided to move on, but Ratchis warned, “If there is some kind of enemy or guardian through this portal, everyone immediately come back in here.”  The others agreed.

On through another of the black doorways they found themselves back in Dining Room, where once again, Razzle had nearly succeeded in freeing himself, and Richard’s bond were loose as well.  The crimson-robed mage looked up as they entered and smiled.

“Fine, you have won,” he said.  “You may free us now.”

Instead, Ratchis tightened their bonds again and gagged them both. Richard the Red glared at them with disappointment.  

The Keepers of the Gate did not wait long despite being low on spells and at various states of injury.  Ratchis led the way through the portal that had once led to the Control Room, but now it led to Hurgun’s Chambers.  They entered the hallways with the great stone statues of Hurgun, with his skull cap and broad bare chest. (4)

As Ratchis crept up the hall to look around the corner, there was the sound of stone scraping stone, and he looked up to see the statue of Hurgun come to life, a stone golem, stepping with unexpected speed in his direction.

“Get out of here!” he cried to his companions, and Roland who was just coming through the portal near the rear of the group wasted no time in leaping back through.  Ratchis cried out again, as he felt two heavy blows on his shoulder and the side of his head and he fell to the ground bleeding.

Seeing this, Bastian ran right at the statue, ducking under its blow to draw it away from the dying half-orc.  “Come here, ya big statue!” he taunted.

With a word to Rivkanal, Kazrack was able to stabilized Ratchis, but the half-orc was still unconscious.  Gunthar hurried over, aided by Sergio’s quickly cast _haste_ spell, to stand over their fallen companion ready to attack if the statue turned towards him again.

The golem stopped, its head reared back and it let out a cloud of green gas that roiled over Gunthar and Kazrack.  As quickly as the Neergaardian felt the speed in his limbs from Sergio’s spell, did he feel it cancelled, but Kazrack was able to shake off the effect.  Having done his part, Sergio ducked back through the portal after Roland.

Gunthar as unable to react in time to avoid two devastating blows to his chest and neck, and he coughed blood and stumbled.  Bastian came back past the golem to draw it off again, but this time, he caught the back of its fist to his face, and he spat blood as he continued to duck past.

Kazrack was dragging Ratchis back into the Dining Room when the golem slammed Bastian twice more and the Gothanian fell down to bleed out.  Gunthar leapt through the portal as well.

“Where is Bastian?” Roland asked, when the rest were through.

“He must have fallen!” Kazrack replied, alarmed. The dwarf had bruises all over his body from the day’s battles that had not been dealt with. “The statue was closing on him when I came through, but I was certain he would be able to get away.  Someone cure me so I can go get him.”  He turned to Roland, who shrugged.

“I have nothing left,” the Bastite said.  “I am afraid Bastian may be dead already, unless… if he is unconscious then perhaps the golem will not recognize him as a threat and returns to its position.”

“I thought the guardian were supposed to be turned off?” Kazrack complained.

”It must be a temporary thing and they come back on,” Roland shrugged.

The dwarf sighed, and calling to his gods, cast _bear’s endurance_ and _shield of faith_ on himself.  “Come on, Gunthar.  I will need your aid in retrieving Bastian.  The rest of you wait here.”

Back in the Chambers, the golem had returned to its position, and began to move again, as Kazrack stabilized the Gothanian with a _cure minor wounds_ orison.  They quickly dragged their unconscious companion from the room, but leaving last, Kazrack took a final blow to the back of the head that made him see stars.

“When the miracle I asked my gods for wears off I will collapse,” the rune-thrower told his companions.  “Someone must be ready to stabilize me, and then we must rest.”

“We have no time to rest,” Roland complained.

“Two of us are near death, and I, too shall be there  soon enough,” Kazrack said.  “We have no choice.”

“Well, there is a little bit of choice,” and with some melodic words, Sergio was able to cure some of Kazrack’s lighter wounds.

“We will still need to rest,” Kazrack said.  The others acquiesced. 

“You need our help.  Release us,” Richard said. He had managed to work his gag off. “As I said before, you have won.  I do not see Martin with you, so I assume he has gone on to his task.  Our attempt at stopping him is over…”

“No, you will not be released,” Kazrack replied. “But… Do you have any means of healing? You may aid us that way.  Have you any potions?”

“Perhaps,” Richard replied, cagily. 

“We can just kill you and search your body,” Gunthar said.

“Kazrack would not allow that,” Richard replied.  

“Do not tempt me, mage,” Kazrack said, walking over.  “Now tell me, if you are sincere in wanting to aid, do you or do you not have means of healing we can use?”

“You will have to free me, if you want them,” Richard said.

“Give them to us and we will let you live, that is assuming at least one of us survives to fulfill the promise,” Kazrack said.  The Dining Room shuddered again.

“If Martin is dead, you have no more reason to keep my bound,” Richard re-iterated.

”I have plenty of reasons,” Kazrack said.

“Like?”

“Mostly, because I don’t like you,” the dwarf spat, and then re-gagged the rogue watch-mage.

“I may be able to help,” Razzle offered.  “But if I want my rapier back and be allowed to leave.  Whatever your past with Richard, I was only here aiding him in a cause I thought was just; that is over now.  A Greyish Brother always keeps his word.”

Kazrack looked to Roland, who shrugged.  “I think he’s telling the truth,” the Bastite said.

Kazrack loosened the half-elf swordsman’s bonds and rolled him out of the rug.  Razzle rubbed his wrists and ankles, and then reached into his satchel, drawing out several metal vials.  He pointed them out, saying “_Eagle’s Splendor_, _Bull’s Strength_, and two of _cure moderate wounds_.”

Gunthar dropped Razzle’s rapier in the half-elf’s lap and sneered at him, while Kazrack fed one of the healing potions to Ratchis.

The friar of Nephthys sputtered awake and was informed about what was going on.  He cast _cure light wounds_ on Kazrack, while Gunthar drank the other healing potion.

“We should have used that on Bastian,” Kazrack complained.

“Too late!” Gunthar smirked.

“Can you not even try to be part of a team?” the dwarf asked.

”I am perfectly fine on a team, you all just don’t give me the respect I deserve,” Gunthar replied, still smiling.

“Actually, Bastian is too injured for that potion to have brought him around,” Roland explained. “So we might as well use it on Gunthar to keep him conscious.  If we are planning on resting here, I am going to light my last block of _incense of meditation_ and get ready for when I prepare my spells.” (5)  He proceeded to do so.

Ratchis and Kazrack fell to discussing what to do with Richard the Red, but first they dragged the watch-mage across the room.  Razzle was checking on the still unconscious Norena and Cordell. 

“He is going to continue to try to free himself,” Ratchis said, keeping his voice down. “And if he succeeds we have no assurances that he won’t  act against us.  If we can get him to promise to aid us, and free him, it might be a better choice.”

“Or, we can break his fingers,” Kazrack replied.

“I’ll do it!” Gunthar said, walking over.

“No…” Ratchis growled.  “But since we are resting , we can wait to decide what to do with him.”

“That’s another thing,” Kazrack said. “I know Roland thinks he has decided for all of us, but I do not like the idea of resting now.  The monk is still free in the Maze, and those rumblings seem to be getting worse…”

“I don’t like it either,” Ratchis replied.  “But we all exhausted and sore from the many battles we have fought while in here.  We will need rejuvenated spells and Bastian among the living if we hope to succeed.  And while there come a time when we have no choice but to interrupt our rest and move on, let us rest while we can.”

Kazrack grumbled his assent.

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

Martin the Green gasped and wheezed as he came out into a cold stone room that looked like some kind of mausoleum. (6)  He turned back and saw that he had somehow walked out of the chest of a great bust of Rahkefet. The ram-headed god had his arms open, hold a crook in one hand and an ornamental flail in the other.(7)  He walked down the steps off the raised dais, and looked around.  There were pillars lined with striations of gold with stylized pictograms of people preparing the dead; some stealing the items interred with them. The pillars held up the vaulted ceiling, and the far end of the room, was an arced glass wall with metal doors, that looked out on the horizonless black beyond.

The walls of the mausoleum were lined with open caskets, leaning upright in two rows.  The corpses within were hanging out, suspended from the ceiling by hooks on the end of long chains that were inserted  under their chins.  The center of their bodies were cut open, and their lungs hung out distended, but a healthy pink, though there was crusted line of black at the top of the exposed trachea.

Martin shuddered and began to walk past the corpses.  As he did they began to stir and moan, but the could barely lift their arms and could not move their heads to look at the watch-mage.  He hurried past to the glass wall and looked out.  He could now make out dark forms in the inky eternal night beyond.  There were large stones floating out there, and the mausoleum itself seemed to have been built on just such a floating rock.  He guessed that the mausoleum was protecting him from the vacuous environment beyond, but that once he left it, he would benefit from no such protection.

Martin the Green walked back towards the zombies and examined the hanging lungs.  He reached up for the trachea of one and it snapped off in his hand at the black line. He looked at the broken end, and brushed away the cracking rotted flesh.  He walked back to the metal doors, and held the end of the trachea up to his face.  He felt it squirm as it fit tightly over his mouth, and then he nearly vomited when he felt some long tendril reach out from within and squirm down his throat and snap onto something in his own lungs.  Martin stumbled back for a moment in shock, but then he realized the lungs were now hanging from his mouth of their own accord, and they expanded and retracted with each of his breaths.  He stepped over and opened the doors.

Winds tugged at Martin’s emerald robes as the air in the mausoleum rushed out into the cold beyond.  The watch-mage shivered as he stepped out into the courtyard, noting quivering black vines growing along cracks in the stone underfoot.  He moaned as he felt some of his life energy immediately drained, and a coldness so harsh it hurt. (8) He walked out to where the floating stone island he was on ended and could see another bigger island of stone floating way out at the edge of his vision.  Everything was shades of gray and black, like a dimmer version of _darkvision_, and the more distant something was, the more like a silhouette it seemed.  

He looked down and saw another smaller and more barren island of stone about forty feet below. Willing himself to not have fear, he leapt out and floated down, landing harder than he expected as the stone was floating up to meet him.  He looked around and saw another stone passing above from left to right.  As his island crossed its path, he leapt again, barely making the edge. (9)

Martin the Green noticed cloud-like nebulas of utter darkness that floated by in bunched and swirls, and as he leapt from island to island, he had to duck and wait to avoid them. When the edge of one brushed his leg in mid-leap, he felt the drain of more life energy from him.

He continued to leap several time until he finally found himself floating way above the largest of these floating stone islands. The center of it was cloaked in a darkness he could not penetrate, and all around he saw ruined building creating a corridor that led up to the dark area. Martin leapt down one last time.

On the island, he could now see that there was a free-standing narrow stone stairway that led up into the column of darkness. He still had the Book of Black Circles, still tucked under his left arm.  The buildings on each side appeared as ruined temples, each with a desecrated holy symbol above the door.  There was the ankh and solar disk of Ra, the silver spear of Anhur, the cat’s eye with emblazoned ankh of Bast, the rising star of Isis, and then he saw on his left, the tree growing from an ankh that represented Osiris.  This symbol was not scratched out or smeared with gore, as the others had been.

Martin walked in that direction, seeing that the doors that led with in were smashed off the hinges, and beyond was a walled in courtyard about another mausoleum.  The courtyard was a shriveled garden.  He approached the mausoleum and he pushed at the cracked door, there was a sharp pain in his right arm.  He winced and for a moment saw stars.  Martin looked down at his arm, to see the flesh of it rot away at incredible speed, leaving behind near bare-bone tied together with thin stretching sinew.  His tears were frozen on his cheeks as he raised the skeletal arm and flexed his boney fingers.

“Osiris,” Martin prayed silently, unable to speak with the strange lungs still hanging from his face.  “I am bereft of wisdom and of hope.  I will obey your command, but I fear I do nothing but bring evil into the world.  If there is something I can do to ameliorate this evil, please give me a sign.” 

Within the mausoleum things were in an equal state of disrepair.  Upon a stone bier was a sarcophagus, and as Martin entered, the form of a mummified corpse rose and lifted a leg over the side, to sit on the edge of the bier.  “Martin the Green,” it hissed, its eyes glowing red within the shadow of its stained wrappings.

“Martin the Green,” it said again. “Turn back.  Only evil comes from this place.  You are only choosing between them…”

“This may be true,” Martin thought, having faith the gods could hear him. “But you are not the voice of Osiris.”  He turned around and left the mausoleum and the courtyard, going back out to path leading to the narrow stone stairway. 

As he climbed the first step, he felt another shudder of cold through his body, as he continued to feel his energy and will drain from him.  Slowly he climbed towards a ring of darkness that surrounded whatever the steps led to, and each step felt more difficult than the last.  He stopped right at the edge of the darkness, and before he knew it, he found himself halfway back down the stairs.  He closed his eyes, took a deep breath that made the lungs hanging from his face wheeze and crack, and then began to climb again, with even more difficulty then before.  This time he did not hesitate, but made to step right into the darkness. Instead, the mantle of green and black fire that sometimes appeared when he cast spells ever since he got possession of the Book of Black Circles ignited around him, and again he found him back down the steps, this time at the very bottom.  He shuddered as he felt even more life energy drain from him as he began to climb a third time. 

This time he penetrated the darkness.  It was even colder than the rest of this foul plane, and he shook violently as he stumbled out the other side a few steps later.

Martin looked up and seeing where the steps led to, felt something unlike anything he had ever felt before.  It was a profound awe. It was a sense of smallness and insignificance that subsumed his whole existence. He looked down at the steps before him, as he collapsed onto his hands and knees, dropping the Book of Black Circles onto the stairs.

Martin had seen the colossal chained form of Rahkefet. With ebony skin and muscular arms folded across his broad bare chest, the god stood nearly motionless upon a great stone pedestal.  The chains were black, but currents of white energy sizzled along the links here and there.  Martin crawled forward, dragging the book with him, and looked up again.  Rahkefet’s immense ram’s head looked down at him, and Martin was pinned to the steps in utter fear.  He put the Book of Black Circles two steps before him, and then managed to get to his feet, not looking up until the steps ended in mid-air.

The narrow stone stairs stopped right before the great black metal lock that held the great knot in the chains closed.  It hung before the ram-headed god’s folded arms like a misshapen medallion nearly six feet high.  There was a depression in the lock the size of the Book of Black Circles.

“Blessed Osiris,” Martin prayed silently again. “Richard the Red claimed that I was being tested, but you did not test Ratchis, who follows your beloved sister, or Jana, who was on a far darker path than mine… before now… I am not special.  I am not unique.  Therefore, I must conclude that this is not a test, but simply a task you need done. Who am I to deny you?”

Martin the Green raised the Book of Black Circles before him, but he felt his skeletal right arm fighting him, and every muscle in his body screamed as cramps rolled up and down his limbs and side.  Concentrating all his will and resolve, Martin thrust himself forward and slipped the book into the depression in the lock. (10) 

There was a silent explosion as the chains burst asunder and the ram-headed god opened his arms.  The narrow stone stair broke apart, but Martin the Green  felt the vertigo of flight for less than a moment, as he was consumed in the explosion of divine energy, ceasing to be. 

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

It was sometime later that Adder arrived.  Ratchis had been catching some quick sleep, while Razzle and Gunthar told each other bawdy jokes.  Roland was still meditating in panther-form before the burning incense, and Richard had been dragged back into the middle of the room, where he could be watched. “He’s as ugly as you are,” Gunthar said to Ratchis of the monk as he woke the Friar. They noticed Adder’s lattice of facial scars.   The monk leaned his cruel-looking spear on his shoulder, and bowed, though his eyes never left them.  “You are all here,” he said.  “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?” Kazrack asked.

“Martin has succeeded,” the monk replied.  “It is time to go.”

“We need to rest,” Kazrack said.

“Fine.  I will I try to do it on my own,” Adder said.  “Good-bye.”

“You cannot let him go,” Richard suddenly cried, his gag loose once again. “He is going to try to gain control of the Maze.  There is no telling what he might do!”

But the leader of the Brotherhood of the Lost, stepped quickly through a portal to the right of where he had entered.

Ratchis walked over to Richard, hunting knife in hand.  “If I free you, do I have your parole?  We want your help, but I want you to understand that you are still our prisoner, and we plan to bring or send you to the Academy for justice, as Martin would have wanted…”

Richard the Red agreed and the half-orc cut him free.

“Roland! We must go,” Kazrack smacked the panther awkwardly on the top of the head, but the Bastite did not respond.

“We will leave him here with the injured,” Ratchis said, throwing Richard his satchel of spell components along with a threatening glare.  “Let us go!”

The Keepers of the Gate hurried through the portal Adder had left through.  Ratchis and Gunthar led the way, followed by Richard and Razzle.  Kazrack and Sergio took up the rear.  Suddenly, they were back in the Dark Room.

“He is not in here,” Sergio said.

“This is a foul and powerful spell Hurgun has cast in this room,” Richard commented. (11)  “I would cast _analyze portal_, but I need to see the portal to know where it will go.”

“We need to guess,” Ratchis said.  He had Sergio guide them to the portal directly across the way.  It led to the Hell Room.  

After a quick search of the floor, Ratchis said, “Let’s go back and try another way.  I have a hunch.”

Back in the Dark Room, Sergio led them to the left, and they fumbled through the portal and appeared in the Control Room, where Adder stood at the edge of the blue-white spiral about Hurgun, rocking back and forth as if trying to sync up with its turns and pulses.

*End of Session #100*


----------



## el-remmen

-------------------------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1) See Session #99, when Adder used the ole Quivering Palm on Ratchis.

(2) See Session #92

(3) See Session #97

(4) Martin and Adder passed through this room in Session #99.  You can see the room behind the sblock here: [sblock]
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




[/sblock]
(5) This magical incense was a gift from Chochokpi, the Tree that Grows  Backwards in Session #84.

(6) *DM’s Note:* During the actual session I alternated back and forth between the rest of the group and Martin, moving from scene to scene at the most conveniently dramatic moment. For the re-telling in the story hour, I consolidated the individual scenes to make them easier to follow for readers.

(7) For more info on the Crook & the Flail, see: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Crook and Flail

(8) *DM’s Note:* Martin was making Will save-based jump checks that allowed for much further distances to be crossed and greater heights to be traversed, emulating the fact that in the negative material plane, it is the ability to visualize that moves you.

(9) *DM’s Note:* Throughout this trip, Martin would have to make several saves to keep from gaining negative levels, as his life-energy was drained.  He would also be making saves against the cold.

(10) *DM’s Note:* Martin’s player used a hero point to make sure he got a natural ‘20’ on the final will save to destroy the book. 

(11) The spells is a _permanent_ _Ineffable Darkness_


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## el-remmen

Yeah, I know it's a long one. . .  But so satisfying to be able to post in full.


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## Manzanita

Wow.  That's it for Martin, eh?  Did he ever have a chance?  I suppose he could have joined Richard, but then he would have broken his vow to Osirus & died anyway.  Adder managed to free his god.  I guess if you run anohter Aquerra campaign, it can use these events as the basis of the plot.  Or at least the world has changed.  Cool.


----------



## Gold Roger

Wow, can't wait to see this all neatly tied up. I think we will still hear from Martin.


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## Scider

Wow! This must have been an extremely exciting session for all the players - it certainly had some climatic tension to it. Kudos on the writing, El-Remmen, it's a pity things are coming to a close so fast now. Personally, I'm curious if Sergio will prove to be a problem at some point in the future (now there is proof of the fact that his alignment is evil, according to the events in the Dark Room). Also, I wonder whether some loose threads (think Rindalith) will come to haunt the Keepers before or after their main quest has been concluded (if is is concluded at all)...

Can't wait until the next update, that's probably what I really wanted to say


----------



## Pyske

I'm hoping we at least find out why on earth Osiris wanted Rakhefet freed, and whether this was somehow a fair bargain. (1/4 of a life-debt = free a dark god and kill yourself??  There must be more to it.)


----------



## el-remmen

Scider said:
			
		

> Also, I wonder whether some loose threads (think Rindalith) will come to haunt the Keepers before or after their main quest has been concluded (if is is concluded at all)...




Well, if your really want to know about Rindalith, look below:



Spoiler: About Rindalith's Fate



There was no way for the party to know this in-game (aside from use of divination, I guess) but after his last interaction with the KotG and that running fight, Rindalith gave up and went back to Westron.  Since Jana was dead, and the party was totally unwilling to listen to what he had to say (whether it was for good or ill), he decided to move on and go back to place where his contacts allowed him to get more of his dirty work done.

Not every villian haunts you and tracks you down to the end.  Some just give up after a while.


----------



## Tony Vargas

*A little confused ... and a comment on resurection.*

How did the book of a notorious necromancer also come to be the key to the chains holding a dark god?  (Or was it the other way round?  And was that the only way to destroy it?)

I was also wondering how Martin had any idea where he was going in the Negative Plane, or, for that matter, how he knew to use the gizmo to evert his lungs to breathe there.  


I remember two Story Hour's where the DM came up with a really cool, dramatic way to handle a resurection - this one, obviously, with the Urn of Osiris, and Piratecat's when they brought back Mrs Horn.  Oddly, in both cases, the character in question either died again later, anyway, or the player left the game.

Did that detract from the drama, or add to it (in a dark way)?  Martin, for instance, is stuck with an evil artifact, and, ultimately, must sacrifice his life, to 'pay' for the resurection of a friend, just so that friend could be later torn apart by an Umber Hulk (if I'm remembering it right).  And, since Jana bought it, she could never fulfill her part of the bargain, so the Urn is no longer useable, at all.   

Pretty rough - but then Aquerra seems like a brutal, no-punches-pulled kind of setting.


----------



## el-remmen

Tony Vargas said:
			
		

> How did the book of a notorious necromancer also come to be the key to the chains holding a dark god?  (Or was it the other way round?  And was that the only way to destroy it?)
> 
> I was also wondering how Martin had any idea where he was going in the Negative Plane, or, for that matter, how he knew to use the gizmo to evert his lungs to breathe there.




You know, until I read this post I never realized how poor a job I did in explaining a lot of this stuff in the campaign.  I mean, we went over it some at the end of the last actual session - but not in that kind of detail.

I think I get really possesive of campaign and setting "secrets" and it is hard for me to give out conclusive info. Part of me wants my players to speculate and theorize and figure stuff out (or come up with better ideas than mine, so I can steal them and make them feel smart ) - but the truth is, it is in reality very difficult "to figure things out".

So anyway, here is some info, though I will be avoiding anything that might be a spoiler for events in the story hour itself.

Marchosias the Corruptor is essentially Keraptis or Vecna, or any of the mad wizards of D&D campaigns who seek out the secrets of godhood and immortality while threatening the safety and sanity of the free peoples of the world.  You know, one of those figures that would claim to be above other petty beings, but still revels in nothing better than messing with the recognixed authorities in the world.

The Book of Black Circles was one of Marchosias’ ways of insuring his continued immortality, which he made from the piece of negative energy removed from its plane to hold the god in its place by the other gods to punish the upstart god for his continued meddling in mortal affairs beyond what is normally allowed.  How did Marchosias do this?  Who knows? What’s important is that he did it.  He had a tiny piece of the essential energy of a dark god and was using it to try to get himself back in the world.  

The lock and the chains and the book fitting into it are just a visualization that makes sense to Martin’s mortal mind.  How did Martin know where to go?  Well, in that plane, thought is the means of locomotion.  He knew where he had to go, even if he did not know _where_ he had to go.

The lung thing was easy to figure out. His Knowledge (planes) skill told him this plain was a near-vacuum and here at an entry point to the plane were some pink lungs hanging within each reach.




			
				Tony Vargas said:
			
		

> I remember two Story Hour's where the DM came up with a really cool, dramatic way to handle a resurection - this one, obviously, with the Urn of Osiris, and Piratecat's when they brought back Mrs Horn.  Oddly, in both cases, the character in question either died again later, anyway, or the player left the game.
> 
> Did that detract from the drama, or add to it (in a dark way)?  Martin, for instance, is stuck with an evil artifact, and, ultimately, must sacrifice his life, to 'pay' for the resurection of a friend, just so that friend could be later torn apart by an Umber Hulk (if I'm remembering it right).  And, since Jana bought it, she could never fulfill her part of the bargain, so the Urn is no longer useable, at all.
> 
> Pretty rough - but then Aquerra seems like a brutal, no-punches-pulled kind of setting.




I think Jeremy’s second untimely death did add to the drama, even if there was an initial disappointment there.  Undoing the rules surrounding life and death can have serious consequences (as Beorth used to try to tell the rest of the party) and the players and their characters understood that.

I wrote in a thread today that the setting for Warhammer Fantasy was a big influence on me when that first came out, and it was not that long after that that I began developing Aquerra, and if you are familiar with that setting at all, you know how grim it can be.  More recently, reading George R.R. Martin’s Song of Ice & Fire, I have found another dark world where the ripples of actions have some terrible consequences, and where being a hero is not an easy thing, if even possible.  At least in Aquerra, it is possible – it is just that I am emulating the trope that I have always like most from fantasy, which is the heroic struggle against despair.

I think the random factor of an RPG helps keep that dark element firmly there, because a stray crit can kill Jeremy, or an unforeseen death can lead to a powerful magical item becoming useless, or a rickety staircase meant to be a simply challenge for the party to overcome can lead to the death of another PC.


----------



## Richard Rawen

Wow... that post was somewhat draining... but in a _Good Way!_

There certainly is a pervasive sense of drama and despair, I have no clue how they will overcome let alone escape without further PC deaths, if not a TPK!

Sounds rather ghoulish to say this now, but this is great reading El-Remmen. =-)


----------



## BlackCat

Richard Rawen said:
			
		

> Wow... that post was somewhat draining... but in a _Good Way!_
> 
> There certainly is a pervasive sense of drama and despair, I have no clue how they will overcome let alone escape without further PC deaths, if not a TPK!
> 
> Sounds rather ghoulish to say this now, but this is great reading El-Remmen. =-)



I'm curious, RR. What obstacle do you foresee causing further PC deaths/TPK? I mean, while playing Roland I was pretty nervous at this point but that was general twitchiness. Is it just the general overtone or a specific menace that makes you think that? Just wondering.


----------



## Richard Rawen

BlackCat said:
			
		

> I'm curious, RR. What obstacle do you foresee causing further PC deaths/TPK? I mean, while playing Roland I was pretty nervous at this point but that was general twitchiness. Is it just the general overtone or a specific menace that makes you think that? Just wondering.




I think the fact that the DM has shown that PC's Will Die if the situation calls for it.  Many DM's out there (myself included upon occassion) will 'bend' the rules or storyline somehow to allow a PC to survive.  Add that there are Real limits to this "quest"... some are time factors, others are more like puzzle pieces that have to be inserted in a specific order and so on... The various other 'Factions' are thinning out but, though I would not put it past him to bring another power into play. Just the various elements of the Maze itself have proven near fatal on occassion... 

But I go back to my first point to really underline the feeling I have:
The DM has no qualms about killing PC's.  Some of the powers you guys have encountered have really overmatched you . . . it seems as though it's only a matter of time, with an exhausted, depleted and battered group, some internal struggles, at least one known enemy in their ranks, plus a possibly evil (and therefore unknown quantity) in Sergio, someone bound to infernal powers (Bastian) and heck between Roland, Ratchis, Gunthar and Kazrack someone WILL do something rash/reckless... add that all up:
  ... somebody is going to die, quite possibly numerous somebodies.


----------



## Scider

I would say Adder kind of freaks me out at the moment...he seems very powerful (or at least confident of his own abilities - but his Quivering Palm ability certainly emits some scary vibes) and it's not all that clear what his intentions are. Also, since Richard has always been something of a wild card, the Red Wizard could of course come up with a nasty surprise at an opportune moment. Who knows what his plans (if any) are for Hurgun and his maze? The fact that he probably (?) is not evil-aligned (Dark Room again) do very little to quell any worries regarding him.

Everything seems possible at the moment though - who knows what messing with time or temporal disturbances can achieve at this point of the story?

Oh, and I think handling the case of Rindalith the way it was handled only adds to the depth and sense of realism of this campaign (yay NPC motivations!). He certainly has had his moments when he was there harassing the Manticore Killers, and thus is memorable in his own right.


----------



## el-remmen

Thanks for chiming in everybody!

For those of you interested in what is going to be going on in Aquerra after "Out of the Frying Pan" is completed, check out 'Second Son of the Second Son': The Birth of An Aquerra Campaign.  It is a thread I have started to kind of shine light on the campaign preparation process from character creation and player participation angle.

Also, you can download the PDF Player's Campaign Guide from there to see the kind of prep stuff I give players.


----------



## Angel Tarragon

Just wanted to say Thanks for getting Part I of Book III uploaded. I am printing all of the story out. Makes for wonderful reading by the nightlight.


----------



## el-remmen

Since the next session was very long I am going to break it up into several installments - more than the usual 2 (or sometimes 3) that I usually do - probably 4 or 5.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #101 (part i)* (1)

The great ape, with its exposed brain, was still orbiting the brown-skinned frozen form of Hurgun of the Stone, caught in the swirling blue-white spiral that surrounded the geomancer.  Adder rocked back and forth, and barely made note of the Keepers of the Gate’s entrance.  But he leapt deftly from one of the wide catwalks to one on the left, twisting his body to avoid the sudden pulse of the time elemental.

“What do we do?” Kazrack asked, as Gunthar stepped forward to the top of the stairs, swords drawn.  Ratchis followed, but the Neergardian continued,  getting as close as he dared to the orbiting ape.  He made ready to take a swipe at it as it came around again.

“I don’t know if that is a good idea,” Ratchis warned the blonde warrior, taking a moment to look down at the swirling mist below the metal grate they stood on.  

“We have to do something,” Gunthar complained, letting the ape go by one time.

“For once, Gunthar is right,” Kazrack said, and suddenly charged up the steps and leapt across the gulf to the catwalk the monk had leapt to.  The heavily armored dwarf teetered on the edge half a moment. Adder walked over calmly, crouching into a fighting position, his scarred face impassive.  Kazrack was barely able to throw himself flat to the grate and roll away loudly, as he felt the monk’s foot slam him in the chest plate.

Ratchis drained another of his clay vials of the _Blood of Ashronk_ and began to string his bow. (2)   Arcane words and gestures came from Richard the Red, as he pointed at the monk, but nothing seemed to happen.  Kazrack continued to retreat as he got to his feet.  

Suddenly, two tendrils of blue-white light flashed out at both Adder and Kazrack.  The monk ducked with incredible speed and avoided it, but Kazrack’s cry was cut short as he stumbled back stunned.  Adder took advantage and followed a roundhouse kick with a shove that sent the dwarf over the side of the grate and down into the crackling misty abyss below.  The mist roiled more violently and a flash of light momentarily blinded everyone.

“Kazrack!” Ratchis cried, letting an arrow go that was sure to reach its mark.  Adder turned around and brushed it out of the air almost casually.

And as Gunthar cut deeply into Ming the Dakkon-King as the paralyzed gorilla flew past, Razzle leapt into the air and came tumbling down onto the catwalk opposite the one Adder was on.  However, another tendril flashed out and the half-elf could not avoid it.  He stumbled back, dropping his rapier.

Sergio’s musical encouraging words echoed across the chamber.

Razzle Greyish barely had time to recover when the time elemental struck out again; this time in both directions at once.  The monk leapt high to avoid the one that came after him and leapt upon the dais, beside the chair Hurgun hovered over.  Razzle, however, was surrounded by an aura of blue-white light and he began a much faster orbit about Hurgun, further out than Ming was.

Gunthar sheathed his blades, stepping back to avoid Razzle’s path, and drew out an orcish shortbow  and sent an arrow at Adder.  It fell short, but as Adder made to step onto the chair, the time elemental whipped him with a tendril, sending him falling backwards.   Gunthar, having misjudged how far back he now need to be to avoid the tendrils, could not resist when one whipped around him from Razzle’s passing paralyzed form.  The Neergaardian was now paralyzed as well, moving even faster than Razzle did, though just beyond him.

Ratchis let two more arrows go the moment he saw Adder fall back, and this time the monk could not avoid them.  However, Ratchis had to step back down the steps to avoid Gunthar and Razzle.  He and Sergio and Richard huddled there for a moment.

“Any ideas?” Ratchis asked, as Sergio continued to sing.

“Only one, and it probably won’t work,” Richard the Red said, grabbing the lining of his cloak.  “I may be able to reach it by using this, but more likely I will fade away into oblivion.”  He paused and looked at Ratchis in the eye.  “I hope you can think well of me for this, if for nothing else.”  The crimson-robed watch-mage tugged on his cloak twice and he disappeared.

“How will we know if it worked?” Ratchis called aloud. The bard just shook his head and continued singing.  The whole chamber shuddered, and Ratchis brought his bow up again as Adder seemed trying to make a second attempt.  However, two blue-white tendrils shot out at once and again the monk could not avoid them.  He too was grabbed in an aura of blue-white light and began to spin about the spiral about Hurgun. 

“This is bad,” Ratchis whispered, as he heard Sergio stop singing.

“I am getting out of here,” the bard said, leaping through the portal.  The whole chamber shook again and jerked to the left, hanging about fifteen degrees askew.  Ratchis fell to his knees and held onto the grating for dear life.  His bow clattered down the grate disappearing into the rising mist.  The half-orc pulled himself through the portal and found Sergio waiting for him on the other side.

They were in the Hell Room, and the whole chamber shuddered again.  

“Look!” Sergio pointed at the portal.  The normal lightless black was slowly becoming a rising blue-white swirl.

Sergio and Ratchis ran through the portal across from the one that came out of and ended up back in the Dining Room.

“What are we going to do?” Sergio asked, looking panicky.  Sweat was beading up on his forehead.

“I don’t know…” Ratchis replied.  He looked to where Roland of Bast was still praying silently between the unconscious forms of Bastian and Norena.  Cordell of Thoth was laying still, a few feet away.  Two of the portals in this chamber began to transform into blue-white light as well, and the whole place shuddered again.

“I am not staying here,” Sergio said, and fled through one of the other portals.

Ratchis knelt before Roland.

“Roland,” he said calmly.  “I need your help.  I don’t know what to do.  Maybe we should be fleeing…”

The room shuddered and jerked again as the two portals were now rectangles of swirling blue and white.  The floor tilted and the unconscious forms began to slide into one corner. 

Finally, Roland looked up from his prayer, as he was forced to stop himself and hold the bodies to keep them from being re-injured when colliding with furniture.

“I think it is too late to do anything,” Roland said sadly, as he gestured towards the blue and white light pooling into the room like some form of luminescent liquid air.

“I thought you said we had all the time in the world…” Ratchis said, as the room suddenly slipped into complete freefall and the blue and white energy rushed in quickly, like water into a sinking boat. Submerged, there was only the barren white flash before non-existence.

------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	This session was played on December 3rd, 2005.

(2) This is actually the strength bow he commissioned back in Summit long ago and then later gave to Logan.  Obviously, he took it back from Logan’s corpse.


----------



## Gold Roger

Yikes!

Can't wait to read more, I know something big and spectacular is going to happen (if only because 



Spoiler



Kazrack and Martin survived


)


----------



## Slife

Why didn't they try talking to the time elemental?  Are aquerran elementals nonintelligent, or was it just that none of the party had the tongues spell?




I mean, surely it would want to be freed.


----------



## el-remmen

Slife said:
			
		

> Why didn't they try talking to the time elemental?  Are aquerran elementals nonintelligent, or was it just that none of the party had the tongues spell?
> 
> 
> I mean, surely it would want to be freed.




No one thought of it, I guess.  Or if they did, no one brought it up.

And no, none of the PCs (as far as I remember) had the _tongues_ spell.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #101 (part ii)*

Osilem, 24th of Keent - 564 H.E.

“Ach, ya ned tah use the sahm stun ta be far. The dwarf said it.” Kazrack heard a distantly familiar voice come down to him from the top of a grassy hill.  He looked around as a light breeze broke the stifling heat of a late summer in Verdun.  There were tall green oaks, and small flowering bushes lining rows of tomb stones, and in the distance he saw the occasional tomb.  The sun’s glare was peeking out from behind the huge mausoleum to his left.  There was a good-sized stone in his hands.  He felt healthy and unwounded.

“Aye! Kahz-rock!  Whut is takin’ ya suh long?  Ya sent the witch, ‘ave ya?” the voice came down to him again, and the dwarf looked up the hill and began to climb it.  The voice was coming from black-haired man in studded leather armor, wearing a color kilt of orange and red, and had a bastard sword strapped to his back.  He hopped back and forth; restless.

“Muh-muh…Malcolm?” Kazrack said he came to the top of the hill.  From here he could see the walls of Verdun nearby (1), but more amazingly he could now see that Malcom Mac-Duligh was not up here alone.  There was tall man with a shaved head in a suit of scale mail, the butt of his quarterstaff resting on the ground, and a silver jackal’s head about his neck.  There was a young woman with dark brown hair, olive skin, large eyes, and a plain brown dress.  It was Jana and Beorth.

“How did you change into that so quickly?” came the voice that really lifted Kazrack’s heart.  “Where did you even _get_ plate mail? I mean, you didn’t carry it with you and you certainly didn’t find it at the bottom of the hill!  And you were wearing a chain shirt before…”  It was Jeremy Northrop. His face was still fresh and unbearded, and his golden locks had just started to grow about his ears freeing itself of the simple bowl-cuts favored in his native Neergaard.  He wore a chain shirt and had a longsword and short sword on his belt. 

Kazrack looked down at the front of his armor, noticing that the detailed etching he hade made on the breastplate of a rune-covered mountain was mostly buffed away by the many blows it had absorbed.

Jana’s eyes narrowed as she looked the dwarf up and down suspiciously.

“Ach! Ah thought dwarves had nuh magic about ‘em,” Malcolm protested.

“I… I…” Kazrack could not close his mouth.  He looked back and forth from one of his former companions to another.  Somewhere a summer songbird tweeted. “Don’t you understand?  I… I have seen you all die, or leave to not be found again…”  His vision rested on Beorth.

“I do not know what you are talking about,” Beorth said, calmly.  “Do you speak prophecy?”

“No… This must be… How can this be the past? And I stand here in the armor I made myself a year from this day…” Kazrack was dumbfounded.

“Ah thank the dwarf’s been innas coops,” Malcolm said.  Kazrack smiled at the accent and then suddenly blurted, “Chance!”

“What?” Jeremy asked.  He shot a cocked eyebrow at his Wallbrookian friend and grinned; tapping his own temple.

“Chance is still alive here, too!” Kazrack cried out. “I have a chance to save him, too. To make everything turn out better than it did!”

“Ya men the fella back at the pub? The other Wallbrookian that ‘ass signed oop?” Malcolm asked.

 Kazrack nodded vigorously, but the smile melted.  He barely had time to plant his feet as a brown-clothed form came leaping over the side of the hill scattering the others.  The monk’s kick slammed against Kazrack’s chest plate with a resounding ring.

Adder spun back and away, crouched in a fighting stance.

“Why do you attack me?” Kazrack asked, withdrawing to draw his golden flail and his shield.  He remembered his halberd dropped from his hand when he was stunned by the blue-white tendril of the time elemental.

“Defeat you now alone, or defeat you later in time when you stand with your friends?  What would you do?” Adder replied.

“But he does stand with his friends, false monk!” Beorth said, bringing his hands down from in front of his face.  His _sight beyond sight_ had detected the foul cloying aura of evil about Adder. (2)

“_Boayl sollys!_" Malcolm chanted, pulling his bastard sword off his back (3) and a burst of light exploded in front of Adder’s scarred face.  The monk ignored it and spun, deftly avoiding and knocking blows aside with a dance-like grace, his arms locking momentarily in fanciful positions before flowing again.  Suddenly, the dance turned violent. As he ducked Kazrack’s flail, Adder swept Beorth’s legs out from under him, sending the heavily armored warrior the ground.  The monk hopped back up and performed a flurry of heavy stomping kicks as he ran over the helpless paladin.  There was a sickening crack as the monk’s sandal sent Beorth’s chin into the grass. 

Adder leapt into the air and spun back around, to fend off Kazrack who was on his heels.

“Fiend! I will slay you!” Kazrack roared.

“Holy…!” Jeremy cried, and immediately began to hustle away.  He only paused when he noticed his friend was not following him. (4)  Jana (5), on the other hand was already way ahead of the Neergaardian, running for her life back towards Verdun.

Kazrack withdrew as Adder tumbled around him, taking a moment to call to his gods for _bear’s’ endurance_.

”Malcolm! Run away! Run away!” Jeremy cried, charging backing with his long sword swinging.  Adder turned away to easily avoid the blow.  Malcolm jerked as he brought his sword down through the air missing.  Adder grabbed the skald’s arms and drove his knee into the bard’s gut and crotch several times, before dropping him to the ground unconscious.

Kazrack made to take advantage of the distraction, but Adder ducked back down again, and swept Kazrack’s feet, sending the dwarf to the ground.  The monk knelt beside the dwarf and punched him full on in the neck, but sprung back up as Jeremy tried to creep up behind him.  A  kick went flying back sending the Neergaardian to the ground next to his companion.

“Give up, Kazrack,” Adder said, stepping back casually towards Malcolm. “Can’t you see this is all pointless? That any duty you are forced to uphold is but a weight dragging you down.  There is only pain in this life.  Pain and death.  And I know you do not relish it…”

Adder stepped on Malcolm’s neck, snapping it as Kazrack struggled to get back to his feet.

“You blame your weakness on your humanity,” Kazrack said. “But you are truly inhuman, monk.”

“One day that too shall be true, but until I reach that state, I am free of duty and promise,” Adder said, dancing over to land on Jeremy and twist his feet to kill the young warrior. “If I am evil, I am evil because it is the default state of men. If  I want you to despair, it is only because I want you to see truly the state of the mortal being.”

Kazrack roared wordlessly, pressing in with shield and flail.  The monk did not show that he  felt pain, but Kazrack knew he scored a good blow, as the flail chain jerked hard and he pulled away again.  A flurry of punches battered at the top of the shield, and several came down striking Kazrack hard in the bridge of the nose.   The dwarf saw stars and withdrew again, but was shocked to suddenly see Adder flying down out of the air, left leg held straight before him. (6)  The sandaled foot caught him in on his breastplate and he went stumbling back, as Adder flipped back and landed on his feet again.

The monk cracked his arms and got back into his fighting stance, staring at Kazrack without blinking.  The rune-thrower called to Krauchaar to grant him _bull’s strength_.  He could feel every breath burn down in his chest, and his knee felt twisted from when he fell; his whole body ached.  He sighed, but then caught sight of the crumpled forms of his friends dead once again, and he raised his shield, spun his flail over his head and charged in once again.

Again he felt the flail strike the monk hard, but the silent master seemed to hug onto the shield, as if using it for cover as well, dancing left and right to avoid the dwarf-head-shaped head of the weapon. (7)  However, the monk’s blows were having a hard time getting around the shield as well, and they broke apart once again.

Kazrack called for Rivkanal to close the worst of his wounds, but was dismayed to find that those left behind were not so much better.  He looked up to see that Adder was kneeling silently with his palms pressed together.  The some of the monk’s wounds closed of their own accord.

Kazrack roared and charged again, and this time Adder charged as well, leaping into his flying kick once again, but Kazrack side-stepped and slammed his flail into the monk’s back as he went past.   Adder crumpled into a ball on the ground, and Kazrack got in another lick before the monk tumbled away and back to his feet.  Tenacious, Kazrack did not let up, raining blows down on the retreating monk.  Adder regained his form and balance and managed a few more punishing blows to Kazrack’s head and face.  The dwarf’s ears rung in his helmet.  Realizing he had lost his advantage he withdrew again, and once again called to his gods for aid.  This time, in the form of a _shield of faith_.

Adder tossed away a glass vial that shattered against a stone, having just swallowed its contents. (8)

Again the two fighters met.  This time, Kazrack stopped short of his charge and Adder ended up over extended in his kick. (9) The flail spun round crushing into the monk’s ribs.  Adder spat blood and spun quickly to block the follow-up blow, but failed.  The weight of the blow knocked the monk to the ground, but he hopped back up to his feet with no trouble and battered at Kazrack’s shield.

Grunting, Kazrack slammed the monk again, but was alarmed when he felt the monk grab his arm and twist it painfully.  Kazrack pulled back too fast, and his shield fell just enough to allow Adder a solid hit to the dwarf’s face.

The world was objects of softly pulsating colors awash with pain.  There was another shock of sudden pain, and then all was black for the rune-thrower.  

-----------------------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	Verdun is the capital of the Kingdom of Herman Land, where the tale of the heroes that would come to be known as the Keepers of the Gate first began.

(2)	*DM’s Note:* Beorth was being run by Martin the Green’s player.

(3)	*DM’s Note:* Malcolm Mac-Duligh was, of course, played by Ratchis’ player, since that was his characters.  I handed out the sheets with the stats on them face down, and gave him a note with instructions that it should be read aloud in ‘Malcolm’s voice’ when I gave him the signal, and then everyone could turn the sheets over.

(4)	*DM’s Note:* Jeremy Northrop was run by Bastian player.

(5)	*DM’s Note:* Jana of Westron was run by Roland of Bast’s player.

(6)	*DM’s Note:* This is the Flying Kick martial arts feat

(7)	This is Ororon-Thiduil, found in the Pit of Bones. See: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Magical+Item+-+Ororon-Thiduil

(8)	*DM’s Note:* This was a potion of owl’s wisdom to improve his armor class.

(9)	*DM’s Note:* Adder misses and fumbled, getting this result: _ Over-extended/Distracted. Intended opponent gains immediate attack of opportunity at +4._


----------



## Richard Rawen

Wow... once again I'm stunned by a turn of events.  If only someone else of the group could have joined in, to bring down this monk for good!


----------



## Manzanita

This whacky time elemental stuff reminds me of something.  Can't put my finger on it.  Good stuff, in any case.  Looking grim for the KOG, but they've always got it rough.  I think they'll pull through!


----------



## handforged

Wow!  That definitely took me for a ride.  I never expected it and I am sure that your players didn't either.  Can't wait to see what is next.

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

handforged said:
			
		

> Wow!  That definitely took me for a ride.  I never expected it and I am sure that your players didn't either.  Can't wait to see what is next.
> 
> ~hf




What did you expect?  Care to make an guesses for what happens next?

Oh, and thanks for the bump, it reminded me to get started on the next installment.  I have been doing so much prep for my next campaign that I sometimes forget I still have a story hour to finish before I that game can start.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #101 (part iii)*

Balem, 24th of Ese - 561 H.E.

Roland of Bast felt a heavy weight on his head, as if he had been drinking too much the night before.  He opened his eyes as he raised his head off of cold stone floor. He was in human-form, but he did not need the sensitive nose of a panther to notice the stench of death that clung to the air here.   He heard heavy breathing, and a vaguely familiar voice whispered, “I don’t think we’re going to live through this.”

“Shut up, Teaser!  And have a drink!  Here you have a sip of the horn, too!” a dwarven voice growled, too loudly for the surroundings.  “Hey! Roland is waking up!  I thought you said he was near death, Reynald…”

Teaser? Reynald?  Could it be?  Roland called to his goddess to grant him the benison of light, and suddenly the dark little room was awash in it, throwing the shadows of Roland’s one-time companions to dance in the corner. 

They were underground, that was certain.  He sat up and saw a door in the center of the plain wall in front of him, and another smaller metal door in the right corner behind him.

Teaser turned around suddenly. He had been creeping over to the wooden door when the _light_ spell went off.  He was only slightly taller than Roland, with golden curly locks and a freckled nose.  He wore studded leather armor and had a long sword at his side, but there was as shortbow and an arrow in his hands.  He had a darkening shiner about his right eye, and his hands were stained in the rusty brown of dried blood.

“Ro! You’re alive,” he said, with genuine surprise.

“Um… Yes! Of course, I am,” the Bastite said, standing and dusting himself off. “You know us Bastites… Nine lives and all that.”  He looked around and now he knew exactly where he was and _when_ he was, and he gulped audibly.

“Does that explain how your clothes have changed?” Reynald asked.  He was tall and lanky, and he too had long hair, though it seemed to have gone pre-maturely gray, as his face was still fresh and boy-like despite the stubble on it.  He wore a chain shirt, and hefted a warhammer in his hands.  About his neck was the silver symbol of an eye engraved with an ankh.  “And since when do you have a chain shirt?  And that ring…?”  Reynald was seriously wounded.  Something had torn at his neck and shoulder viciously and the wound was oozing again.

“Observant as ever, oh Wayfarer of Ptah,” Roland replied. “I will do my best to explain, but we need to get out of here.   You don’t know how important it is that we all get out of here, right now… Shall we try this other door?”

“Well, since we won’t have to carry your knocked out form around this gods forsaken place, we just might have a chance,” the dwarf said.  His name was  Tarth Starn, and Roland knew the hill dwarf well.   Dressed in his scored suit of chain mail, he was moderately wounded as well, and his cracking knuckles squeezed about the haft of his great axe.  He had a bushy brown beard and a helmet-shaped like a bear’s head.

“Remind me again whose idea it was to break that seal and explore this place?” asked the fat man in shabby burgundy robes.  The man’s triple-chins glistened with sweat and drool, and the blood stains on his robes were mixed in with a variety of grease stains already there.  He held a light crossbow in his hands.

“That would have been me, Corasant,” said Reynald.  “But I do not recall you complaining about the prospect of treasure when the topic came up…”

The argument was interrupted as the swollen wooden door bursting open.

“They found us!” Teaser squealed, leaping back and raising his bow.  (1)

Through the door came necrotic loping forms with pale skin and stringy hair, wearing the ragged remains of their clothing.  They were dead, but Roland saw intelligence in their eyes, awareness of their own pitiable desire to eat living flesh.

Two came rushing right at Reynald the Traveled (2), while two more leapt right at the dwarf.  Tarth (3) deftly stepped aside and immediately took advantage of the opening he was given.  His axe cut the head from the first and then the heavy blade landed in the chest of the other, driving it to the ground – finally, really dead.  However, he felt his muscles grow rigid and looked down to see the slightest scratch had gotten through his breeches.  The dwarf was paralyzed.

The hiss of an _acid arrow_ from the fat wizard (4) as he withdrew behind Teaser (who was still backing for the metal door in the corner) was overwhelmed by the rush of holy energy as Roland called to Bast for a _holy smite_.  The ghouls screeched in agony.  Five more that had just come loping into the room shriveled into black lumps of near-liquid flesh, while the two attacking Reynald ran back out of the room, pushing past another half-dozen of their brethren crowding into the room with hunger in their eyes.

Roland sighed.  For he knew that this was the Kingdom of the Ghouls.  Early in his adventuring days, he and his friends had broken a seal in an old keep and had climbed down in search of treasure.  He remembered it too well, and knew there was no end to the ghouls beyond that door. (5)

Reynald slammed a ghoul with his warhammer as it hurried recklessly through the door.  Another ran right past to claw at Roland, ignoring an arrow from Teaser.

“Oh Great Queen Bast!  I call on you to lend me your _spiritual weapon_ that I may fight along side an aspect of my faith in you!” Roland cast as he stepped aside, and a glowing translucent dagger appeared and stabbed at the ghoul attacking Reynald in the neck.  The thing fell over exanimate. 

But cries of alarm overcame any joy, for one of the ones that had come rushing in was standing over the collapsing Tarth Starn.  The paralyzed dwarf’s eyes could not even roll back as the ghoul stopped to slurp down the flesh and sinew it had ripped from his neck.

“Tarth!” Roland and Teaser cried at the same time.   The latter began to frantically work at the lock in the door with a crowbar.

Corasant did not seem to notice, deep in some incantation.

The ghouls forced Reynald and Roland back, and as their black nails clawed at them they could feel the cold creep of the paralysis shake off every time, and every time they sighed in relief.

Reynald crushed another ghoul skull, as Teaser pried the metal door open with a gasp.

There was pop in the air as a glowing beetle of great size appeared between Corasant and a charging ghoul.  It worried the ghoul with its pincers.  The fat wizard flicked a pork rind across the room while saying, “_ne multus!_”  More ghouls were pouring into the room, but now they fell over themselves as they entered.  Corasant stepped though the metal door to find a round room beyond.  A spiral stone staircase climbed up into the darkness, but it was cracked and broken, revealing  a deep shaft beneath it.

Teaser crept into the new room and climbed above the door into a narrow shadowy crack.

Reynald backed into the round room, as Roland called to Bast once more with a roar, smiting the dozen ghouls now in the room. In a moment, only two were standing, but still more were pouring in.  Teaser squinted as he saw someone climbing up out of the shaft beneath the steps.  It was a man in brown robe and wooden sandals.  He had a shaved head and as he came over the lip, they could see his face etched with scars.

“Whoa! That’s not Teaser!” Reynald exclaimed, backing away from the monk.

“Um, hello sir?” Corasant wiped his chin  with the back of his hand and then wiped that on his robes and stepped forward, crossbow trembling in his hands. “Are you a monk of Anubis come to help us escape these terrible undead?”

“Where are the Keepers of the Gate?” Adder asked in his flat voice.

“Who?” the wizard asked.

Back in the first room, a ghoul fell from a wound from the _spiritual dagger_ as Roland tore another ghoul apart.  A third ghoul had stopped to feast on Tarth.

”No more are coming,” Roland called to his friends. “Come and help me fasten the door closed, so we can find a way out of here.”

Reynald the Traveled came charging back into the room leaping over the last ghoul as Roland tore its throat out and slammed the door shut.  Roland looked up just in time to see Adder come stepping into room, leap up, land on one foot and spin with a devastating kick to the side of the Bastite’s panther head.  Roland stumbled back as his ears rung and the world shook.  He felt some teeth crack, and he wobbled back and forth to keep from falling.

“Foul monk!” Corasant cried, firing his crossbow from the doorway, but Adder spun and blocked it.  

“Ptah! Heal this fellow traveler so that he might live to move on!” Reynald chanted, reaching out to heal his Bastite companion.  But as soon as the wounds closed, Adder closed in on the still _stunned_ priest and let loose with a flurry of bone-crunching blows.

“_Exuro eate respergo,_” chanted Corasant, but the splash of acid he flung at the monk fell short.  Adder ducked the wayfarer’s warhammer and ignored that priest, preferring another foot plant right in the panther’s nose. The _cat-shaped_ priest went flying backwards.  Roland noticed how pretty the blue-white stars spinning about his head were, as all went black… (6)

-------------------
*Notes:*

(1) *DM’s Note:* Tim “Teaser” Reynolds was played by Kazrack’s player.

(2) *DM’s Note:* Reynald the Traveled was played by Martin the Green’s player.

(3) *DM’s Note:* Tarth Starn was played by Bastian’s player.

(4) *DM’s Note:* Corasant the Conjurer was played by Ratchis’ player.

(5) Roland was knocked unconscious fighting these ghouls the first time, only to awaken days later in an inn in a small town miles away.  He never went back because he knew that was what the ghouls wanted, more victims to chew on.  He never knew how he had gotten to where he was, and had to live with the fact the rest of his companions had been eaten, or made into ghouls themselves.

(6) *DM’s Note:* I always warn players, either come up with a background or I will come up with elements of it for you.  This is especially pertinent for characters that come into an established game with several levels under their belt. That is, what was the rest of their adventuring career like before now?  So, since Roland’s player had gotten me anything, and since I wanted each character to have a “time scene” for themselves, I made up a previous adventuring party, and knowing that at some point every hero in Aquerra experiences some kind of failure, I figured he had experienced a big one that carried with it some guilt.


----------



## Manzanita

interesting change of pace here.  Are we going to get conclusion to the Dragon subplot?  Tanweil & the cannon and such.  It is an interesting story.


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> interesting change of pace here.  Are we going to get conclusion to the Dragon subplot?  Tanweil & the cannon and such.  It is an interesting story.




Yes, _most_ everything will be resolved, if not in the next 2 and a half sessions to the end, then by the end of the two reunion sessions after that. . . 

Well, maybe "resolved" is not the right term - reaches a satisfying conclusion. . .


----------



## el-remmen

And for those of you interested in the very early stages of the next Aquerra campaign, check out "Second Son of a Second Son" Stat Draft


----------



## Ximix

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Yes, _most_ everything will be resolved, if not in the next 2 and a half sessions to the end, then by the end of the two reunion sessions after that. . .
> 
> Well, maybe "resolved" is not the right term - reaches a satisfying conclusion. . .




As your campaign focuses on more realism it is only fitting that not everything gets wrapped up in a neat tidy hollyweird ending.  A major appeal of your plot-lines and character development is the adversity and struggle they face in the attempt to save the world.  
Too many groups struggle through similar trials only to wipe away the sacrifices and cost with a quick raise dead or true res. Hard to be really scared of PC death when you know that the local temple is always just a day away, glad to hand out raises and do so with little cost and no strings attached...
A long way of giving kudos for a well told story relating a well played, detailed campaign.


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## Manzanita

wow.  so you decided to play in Aquerra again?  That's awesome.  I thought you were going to do a M&M game.

I'm going to read this character generation thread thing, but it's compllicated isn't it.  I"ll have some comments once I get through it.


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> wow.  so you decided to play in Aquerra again?  That's awesome.  I thought you were going to do a M&M game.




I ran it for four or five months - but it was not doing it for me. 

We are still going to play it until I am done with this story hour (because i am not startin' up another D&D game until this monster is done).


----------



## Ximix

el-remmen said:
			
		

> I ran it for four or five months - but it was not doing it for me.
> 
> We are still going to play it until I am done with this story hour (because i am not startin' up another D&D game until this monster is done).




And because you don't want to have to play catch-up on the next SH right?

Right?

You will make a SH of the next Aquerra campaign won't you?

One of you Jedi get your mind control warmed up in case he didn't _realize_ he was going to write another Aquerra SH...


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## el-remmen

Ximix said:
			
		

> And because you don't want to have to play catch-up on the next SH right?
> 
> Right?
> 
> You will make a SH of the next Aquerra campaign won't you?




Right now, that is the plan - but we will see what grad school has to say about that. 

Oh, and I just realized you are a new poster to this SH.  When/Where did you start reading?  Or are you an old regular using a new ID?


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #101 (part iv)*

Osilem, 17th of Keent - 564 H.E.

Ratchis of Nephthys found himself under the dark shadows of some pine trees.  The coolness of night made the hairs on his arms and neck bristle, but he knew instinctively, that it was the coolness of a late summer night in Derome-Delem, not the cutting cold of the Gothanian fall that he and the others had left outside of Hurgun’s Maze.

The moon was rising and he could hear the crackle of a fire and the voice of men ahead of him.  The half-orc crept forward as quietly as he could, shaking his head at how eerily familiar this all was.

“I’m telling you, the King of Gothanius is calling for fodder from abroad,” one of the men was saying.

”I heard tell it was slaves,” said another.  “Whole caravans of wanna-be adventurers and draft-dodging cowardly Herman-landers who will be pressed into irons when they get there.”

“That tricky bastard, always decrying us because of slaves, and now…”

“He saw what Menovia accomplished in Rhondria,” said the second man again. “He probably realized he needed slaves to keep up.”

“Next they’ll be worshipping Set,” said another.

“Eventually _everyone_ will worship Set,” said the second man again. It was clear he was the leader.  

Ratchis crept up to a small clearing.  There was a fire just off center, and a group of armored men gathered around it.  They wore black leather and studded, and had travel stained cloaks, and Ratchis noticed several pairs of manacles on a nearby pack, and then he remembered.  These were the slavers he had first heard about the caravans to Gothanius from.  It had been here that he heard the rumor regarding the king of Gothanius. (1)

Ratchis of Nephthys smiled his frightful smile of crooked jagged teeth and slowly drew his great sword.

Silently he jogged over the grass, and with a barbaric yawp brought this great sword down atop the captain’s head, cleaving it twain.  There was uproar in the camp, but even as the men about the fire spread out, another lay dying, his innards sprawled out behind him.  

The largest of the Menovian slavers turned as he scooped up his great cudgel.  He was a huge fresh-faced man-child that snorted happily when he saw Ratchis charge at him.  He brought the club down and it cracked over Ratchis’ shoulder, and smashed it against the side of the half-orc’s face. But Ratchis thrust his sword before him and jerked it to one side, and then the big man lay dying as well.

The friar of Nephthys, spun around to get a look at the positions of the others, but one of the men had run and had never looked back, and another took off when the big man went down. (2) Ratchis’ shrugged his shoulders and made to begin tracking them, when his eyes were drawn to a large form leaping from tree to tree around the clearing.  It was a large ape with blue-black fur on its head and shoulders that slowly became gray towards the legs. but the top of its head was sliced off, revealing a pulsating blue-green brain. (3)  It swung around, and seeing Ratchis, brachiated in that direction.

“Nephthys, I call on you to close my wounds, as this might be the only respite from battle I am to get,” Ratchis prayed.  And then he lifted his sword, ready to meet the ape’s leap, but it did not come. At the edge of the clearing, it leapt to a tall tree branch and slamming a fist against it chest once simply looked at Ratchis.  The half-orc felt a searing pain behind his eyes and for a second he feared he might black out, but instead he focused through it wit ha grunt, swinging his sword back and forth and grunting at the ape.

Again, the pain came and again, Ratchis squinted and roared and there was no lasting effect. (4)  Ming the Dakkon King hooted and beat his chest again.  He leapt down in fearsome rage, but Ratchis did not hesitate.  As soon, as the gorilla landed, Ratchis charged in, bringing his great sword down. There was a flash of blood and a cry of pain, and suddenly all was dark for the half-orc, as he was crushed against the dakkon’s chest; great arms wrapping around him.

With a deep breath and a roar, Ratchis burst out of the ape’s grasp, happy for the strength granted by his belt.  There was another flash of blood, and then Ratchis felt the ape’s hand smack across his face in an attempt to grab him again.  The half-orc leapt back, bringing his sword between them.

Ming the Dakkon King leapt back and flicked his gaze at Ratchis, and once again the tough-minded Friar fought off the effects of the mind blast.  There was a rustle in the brush, and suddenly Kazrack came charging out from under the trees.  The ape leapt up into a tree once again.

“What is that thing?” Kazrack asked.  “Where are we? Be careful, Adder might be lurking about.”

“Adder? What are you doing here?” Ratchis asked, keeping an eye on the foe.  The gorilla was making his was around the clearing from tree to tree.

“I don’t know.  Last I remember I was back in Verdun… Back at the time when we were in the cemetery outside of the city, just before we came to Derome-Delem… You weren’t there yet, but…but… Jeremy was there, and Beorth and Jana…  Adder attacked, and I fear he defeated me, but here I am again… And I guess that gives me hope that the deaths Adder caused back there are not permanent…”

“Things are already different, there is nothing we can do,” Ratchis replied.  “This ape-thing was not here before.  And I killed all the slavers last time, this time two got away.”

“What is happening?” Kazrack asked.

“I am not sure, but the time elemental must have scattered us across time and space,” Ratchis’ brow furrowed.  “Except… Well, I seem to have all the abilities and memories I gained since this time…”

“It is with good reason that time is the domain of the gods,” Kazrack said. “Our mortal minds were not meant to handle such dilemmas.”

Ratchis nodded.  Kazrack called to Rivkanal and cast a healing spell on his companion, but suddenly there was the buzz of cutting air and an arrow nicked a gap between plates in the dwarf’s armor.

“Look out!” Ratchis pushed the dwarf away.

“Is the ape shooting arrows?” Kazrack asked.

”The slavers are back!” Ratchis cried, turning in the direction the arrow came from, as that was nearly the same as the Menovians had fled.  But it wasn’t slavers; a figure popped out of the brush and fired another arrow. This one bounced harmlessly off of Kazrack’s chest plate.  It was Adder.

“Where did he get a bow?  He didn’t have a bow before!  I still don’t have my halberd!” Kazrack complained.

“He must have gotten it from one of the fleeing slavers,” Ratchis reasoned, and he charged towards the brush. (5)

Adder popped up again, tearing a bead from the necklace he wore hidden beneath his robes.  He hurled it, and where it smashed against a stump there was a explosion of fire. Ratchis dove to the ground, rolling to avoid the worst of it, but Kazrack was badly singed.  He called to his gods for their _divine favor_, as Ratchis scurried to the cover of brush that was not burning; standing up behind a tree.

The monk rushed out of the brush and landed a devastating kick in Kazrack’s face, forcing the dwarf to stumble back, nearly off his sturdy feet.  But he recovered quickly, and soon Ratchis was moving in to flank the monk.  Adder showed no emotion as he barely blocked a blow from Ratchis only  to have the head of Kazrack’s magical flail slam him in the kidneys.  The monk took off for a nearby tree and ran right up the side, his sandals adhering to the trunk as if he were a spider.

Kazrack moved to follow, but Ratchis held him back.  “Wait!  Why are we fighting him?  There might be a reason we are here.  Let’s withdraw, and if he comes after us then we know what is going on has something to do with us.  If he doesn’t, we can track him and figure it out.”

“Hmmph!” Kazrack disagreed, but for once did not argue with his companion. 

The two Keepers of the Gate withdrew from the clearing and made their way towards another smaller one.

“Ratchis?” came a voice from the brush as they approached, and Roland, in panther-form came stalking out.  “Where am I?  How did I get here? _When_ are we?”

“The best I can guess, we are about two to three weeks before I met Kazrack and the others for the first time. About five or six days northwest of Tallow’s Post,” Ratchis replied.

“Have you been anywhere… uh… any_when_ else?” Roland asked.  “I was with my former party, many years ago, and… and Adder was there!”

“He is here as well,” Ratchis replied.

“Where?” Roland growled. He cast _greater magic fang_ and turned in a circle throwing his nose in the air to catch the scent of the monk.  “I am going to make him pay!  I could have saved them this time if it weren’t for him!”

“What are you talking about?” Kazrack asked.

“Back the way you came from?” Roland asked, but he did not wait, hurrying in that direction.

“I guess he made our choice for us,” Kazrack snarled and chased after him.  Ratchis followed as well with a sigh.

The Bastite came bounding through the brush, and on one great leap he spotted Adder creeping out of the clearing in their direction.

“Great Queen Bast!  Smite this cruel foe that he may be stopped from committing wanton evil!” Roland called, and there was a blast of divine energy.  Adder stumbled and then ducked into a roll, changing direction to head back to the clearing. 

As the monk leapt into a tree, Roland called to his goddess again for another _holy smite_, but this one fizzled as it came down, not getting through Adder’s spell resistance.  Kazrack hustled right up to the base of the tree, and regretted it, as Adder feigned as if he were going to leap into the higher branches, but came down instead with a heavy kick to the dwarf’s shoulder.

Grunting, Kazrack spun and slapped Adder with his flail, knocking the monk down.  He followed up with another crunching blow as the monk rolled to his feet.  There was a blast of _searing light_  from Roland, but Adder leapt up out of the way, completely avoiding it.  The monk made to tumble past Ratchis who had moved in to block escape, but he was not quick enough and heavy chop from the half-orc’s great sword had the monk bleeding out on the grass.

Kazrack walked over.  Roland stalked over still fuming.

“I guess we should stabilize him,” Kazrack said.

“Let him die,” Roland said. 

Ratchis’ head sagged.  “I don’t know.  Maybe he needs to actually die so we can stop hopping around in time.”

“Yes, that’s good…” Roland said, pacing in a circle. “Let’s go with that theory.  I like it.  I’ll even speed him along so he won’t suffer…”

“No, he is helpless and might still offer us some information that will aid us,” said Kazrack. The dwarf grasped his bag of runestones as he knelt beside the dying monk.  With a word to his gods, he touched Adder on the chest, and the monk’s wounds stopped the worst of their bleeding.

“Well, let’s at least see what magic he has on him,” Roland said, beginning to cast, but there was no time.  A spiral of blue-white erupted from where Kazrack had touched Adder, and a sudden sensation of falling was washed away by a blue-white flash.

-----------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1) Ratchis told Beorth and Kazrack about this encounter way back in Session #10.

(2) *DM’s Note:* Once again, I handed out these character for the other players to use as to not have others left out.  However, the battle with the slaver went so quick, I no longer remember who played which of them (perhaps the players can chime in and say one way or another, but I doubt they remember either). Keep in mind, that while this encounter was never originally played out, it was something discussed as part of Ratchis’ background to lead him in the direction of the other PCs, thus it had to be an encounter that a 2nd level priest/ranger could reasonably expected to handle on his own, considering that it was originally described as him taking them out one by one as they went to relieve themselves, and then later went looking for each other.

(3) Ming the Dakkon King was released from the _mirror of life-trapping_ in session #92, and discovered a prisoner of the time elemental in session #95. 

(4) *DM’s Note:* As I had not settled on a system of psionics for use in Aquerra campaigns at this point, I “faked” Ming’s psionic powers, by just giving him some basic mindflayer-like abilities.  The problem was, they were Charisma-based and his Charisma was a measly 7.  So, what was supposed to be a fierce opponent, was not all he could be.  But that’s alright, the Fearless Manticore Killers had plenty of very difficult fights, so if this once did not turn out as tough as I expected it to be – it all evens out.

(5) *DM’s Note:*  That is exactly where he got it.


----------



## handforged

I know that these flashbacks are going to have some sort of effect on the present, and I can't wait to see what it is.  This last one, where Kazrack and Roland have joined Ratchis threw off my earlier guess as to how it might go.  Do we get to see one for Richard the Red also?!?  That would be quite interesting!


Can't Wait for the next installment, and I'm looking forward to the next campaign as well.

~hf


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## el-remmen

I just started on the next installment tonight - so I am kind of behind schedule with earlier predictions.  

It is the last installment of Session #101, but the next installment of the time-hopping scene continues on into the session after that - which of course, is the penultimate session of the whole campaign.

I am amazed that I am really truly nearly done with this monster of a story hour (well, not including the two "reunion sessions") - and yet, the closer I get to the end, the further away it seems somehow. . .

Crazy. . .


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## Manzanita

Go El-remmen!  You're going to make it to the end.  & we'll be here with you!


----------



## el-remmen

Let me ask this question:

In terms of the story itself, does it _feel_ like it's ending?


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## Elder-Basilisk

Out of curiousity, what was Martin's player doing during all of this. Did you intersperse his (already told) story with the story now playing out (everyone has their own scenes) or was his scene already done with by now? If so, who did he end up running? As you can see, I'm a bit curious about the table mechanics of all this.


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## el-remmen

Elder-Basilisk said:
			
		

> Out of curiousity, what was Martin's player doing during all of this. Did you intersperse his (already told) story with the story now playing out (everyone has their own scenes) or was his scene already done with by now? If so, who did he end up running? As you can see, I'm a bit curious about the table mechanics of all this.




All of Martin's scenes in the Negative Material Plane took place in one session.

After Martin's death, his player continued to run Gunthar in combat, and offer the occasional lewd remark, and of course in all the scenes, I gave out NPCs to run - so he played Beorth in Kazrack's scene, and he played the Wayfarer of Ptah in Roland's scene - and one of the quickly killed slavers.

He has a role to play in the next scene as well, and in session #102 we get a hint at Martin's ultimate fate - though we do not find out for sure until the last one.


----------



## RedShirtNo5

el-remmen said:
			
		

> and yet, the closer I get to the end, the further away it seems somehow. . . Crazy. . .



Blame the time elemental. 


			
				el-remmen said:
			
		

> In terms of the story itself, does it feel like it's ending?



It certainly feels that it is reaching *a* conclusion, in that it is clear that the primary goal of the FMK will be resolved.  And I think pacing and intensity of the story itself go along with that.  But with many plot hooks left open, it doesn't necessarily feel like *the* conclusion.


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## el-remmen

*2 sessions to go!*

*Session #101 (part v)*

Balem, the 5th of Syet – 561 H.E.

This clearing was familiar to Bastian, yet the light through the trees seemed wrong for the time of autumn it had been when he entered Hurgun’s Maze.  He wondered if he had ever been in this place in the woods at this particular time of year. Yes, there was at least one time.  The leaves crunched under his boots and he startled himself and stood straight up and looked around.

“N’kron?” he called mentally for his familiar, but there was no reply.  He could not sense his familiar anywhere around for a mile or more.

“What is going on?” Bastian asked aloud, and suddenly a dark figured stepped out of the autumnal foliage and answered, “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

It was a tall man, with thick black hair tight back on his head in nappy locks not unlike Ratchis’.  He wore a chain shirt over his black clothes, and was covered in a black and green travel-stained cloak, made misshapen by a long bastard sword at his side.  He held a long bow in his calloused hands.  The man’s face betrayed something feral and dangerous.  The cut of his chin was too sharp, and his eyes were narrow and dark.  His skin had a yellow pallor that no pureblood human could ever have.  And yet, it was not that he was ugly.  There was a handsomeness to his savage look.

It was Scartesh. (1)

“How did you change your clothes and armor?” the half-orc asked, his eyes narrowing.

“What do you…?  Scartesh!  How did I get here?  Do you know what is happening?” Bastian asked, sputtering.

“I am asking _you_ what is happening,” Scartesh’s  voice had a scratchy accent that came through more as he spoke.  His face grew a bit flush.  “I was watching you and you suddenly changed.  You even look… thinner… Even your smell has changed a bit… What kind of trick is this?”

“Am I dreaming?” Bastian asked, aloud stepping forward. Scartesh took a step back and his hand went instinctively to the pommel of his sword.  “Am I dead?  The last thing I remember was the stone golem attacking… How did I get here?”  Bastian looked up at Scartesh bewildered.  He scratched under his beard, perturbed.

Scartesh’s wrinkled brow furrowed some more, and he made a guttural sound in the back of his throat.

Bastian put his hands up.  “Look.  I am just as surprised at this turn of events as your are,” he said. “You are just going to have to trust me. Okay, Scartesh?  You trusted me before. You are going to have to trust me now…”

The half-orc left his hand on the hilt of his sword, but visibly settled, after looking to his left and to his right.

“Now,” Bastian continued.  “If you would be so kind as to tell me what time this is that we have met…”

“What?” Scartesh growled.

“Um, I am just trying to figure out what is happening with me,” Bastian said.  “I think I have been thrown back in time… Somehow, and yet not bodily or else I would be here with me, and I am the only me here right now…”

“You make no sense,” Scartesh replied.

Bastian paused and cleared his throat, placing his hand on the back of his neck and rubbing it hard.  He blinked rapidly, took a deep breath and started again in his normal even quiet tone.  “You are right.  This makes no sense.  Perhaps it is best if we stick to the matter at hand and take advantage of this opportunity my being here affords us.”

There was a long pause.

“You see… I now know that our plan does not work,” Bastian said.

“What plan?” Scartesh asked.

“For me to talk the Gothanian militia out of the attack on the Fir Harge in return for you bringing them away from here peacably.”

“We discussed the likelihood and unlikihood of it,” Scartesh said.  His face seemed to grow more civilized the calmer he got, as if his erudition changed with his expression.  “But there was no plan… I thought that was what we were meeting to discuss the possibility of… So you are now convinced that it won’t work?”

“I was not convinced before, but I am now, because now I _know_ it doesn’t work,” Bastian replied.

“Then it seems I have no choice then,” Scartesh replied.  “We will have to fight.”

“There has to be another solution,” Bastian said.  “I also know that the war will not help anyone and will make everything worse for everyone in the long run.”

“On that we are agreed,” Scartesh replied.  “Unless… Well, if it is one thing I have learned, it is that almost anything can be used as a means of survival.  You just have to look at it the right way.  But still, if your people insist on fighting, we have no choice but to defend ourselves.”

“No, there has to be another solution,” Bastian said again.  

“So you came here to tell me the plan won’t work, and expect me to stand by and let my people get killed?” Scartesh’s eyes narrowed again.  “I am starting to think you humans are craftier than I gave you credit for.  Is this part of some elaborate ruse?”   He drew his sword and looked around nervously again.  Once again he made a guttural noise in the back of his throat, and then repeated it more loudly.

“I already told you, war will not work!” Bastian grew flustered.

“Suggest an alternative,” Scartesh replied.

Bastian rubbed his neck again and stepped back, his head drooping a bit.  He hemmed and hawed and then looked up again.  “I really don’t know yet,” he finally said.  “I need time to think about it.”

“And while you think I am supposed to wait just long enough for your allies to launch an assault on the Fir-Hragre?”

“What allies?  No…  You have this all wrong,” Bastian replied.  “I am here alone.”

“Hello!” A voice came from the woods.  “What in the name of Horus’ Hairy Balls is going on around here?  This makes no sense.”  Gunthar came blundering into the clearing, sword in hand.

“Beardy! Just a few minutes ago I was back in the Honeycombe fighting sh*t-bears with my old crew,” Gunthar said.  “And suddenly, some crazy ape with a glowing brain showed up and started killing people!” (2)

“I knew it! It _is_ a trick!” Scartesh snarled, and raising his sword he let out a short roar.  Suddenly, a large figure stood up in the brush and charged into the clearing. The figure was over eight feet high and was heavily armored and bore a heavy shield. Its helmet’s nose-guard seemed to cut into its yellow-orange face.  It was an ogre, and it wielded a large morningstar with black iron spines.

Gunthar was slammed back by the force of the blow, barely able to raise his longsword to keep the spines on the morningstar from skewering his neck.  He landed on his ass, but quickly rolled back to his feet drawing _Hornet_ in his off-hand.

“I didn’t want to fight!” Bastian grunted as his warhammer made contact with the ogre’s knee, crunching the metal of the thing’s greave.   Bastian winced as he felt a sharp burning on his left arm, and turned towards it, swinging his hammer in a wide arc to keep his opponents at bay.  Scartesh had moved in close with little effort. A deep cut on Bastian’s upper arm burned as blood oozed from it.

“This can stop,” Bastian said.  “There is still time to figure something out… Fighting is not the answer!”

“Dumashg, finish the other one,” Scartesh said to his hench-ogre. “I will deal with our friend.”

The ogre drove into Gunthar again, ignoring the deep wounds the Neergaardian scored on it.  Bastian moved to aid his companion, but Scartesh’s bastard sword slipped in the space between the bearded warrior’s legs and tried to trip him.  Bastian stumbled, but kept his balance, skipping awkwardly over the blade.  He slammed the ogre in the hip, but as it spun around to smash him in return, Bastian had withdrawn again.

The ogre roared as Gunthar stabbed it repeatedly in the outer thigh with his magical _short sword of speed_.  It brought the morningstar down, but the blond warrior stepped into the blow, feeling the heavy weight of the weapon’s handle and the fists around it, but not the spines.

Bastian spun around Scartesh and sprung in towards the ogre once again, and once again he scored a hit and withdrew.

With a wise grunt, Scartesh hustled over and slashed at Gunthar viciously, who was too busy avoiding being pummeled by the ogre to notice until it was almost too late.  He felt heavy bruises begin to swell up under his chain shirt, as he gave a little ground.

“I could use a little help over here, Beardy!” Gunthar complained.  “If ya done dancing, there’s fighting to do.”

Dumashg began to huff and puff, his chest expanding as spittle flew from the corner of his raw red lips and jagged teeth.  The fight moved under the trees, as Gunthar tried to use the foliage to gain cover from the rampaging ogre, but his wounds were severe and a solid blow sent him to the ground, torrents of blood soaking into the dry grass.  

Bastian slammed the ogre’s knee again, but when he moved to withdraw, Scartesh blocked his way.  There was a ringing blow, as Bastian’s basinet went flying off.  His ear rungs, and he could feel a shiner developing.   There was a long gash where his helm has been dragged across his face. (3)

Bastian looked up and a blow from the ogre sent him flying back, skidding through the growing pool of Gunthar’s blood.  He got up to one knee and shook his head, and looking up he noticed a black robed figure in sandals standing silently at the edge of the clearing, watching the melee.

“Are you ready to surrender now, or does your friend have to die first?  Because I don’t care either way,” Scartesh said holding his sword out at Bastian.

“There is something else going on…,” Bastian stammered.  “Something bigger!  There is a monk here and…”

“Natan-Ahb, grant me the endurance of the sleeping bear so that I might last through these many battles!” Kazrack’s chant came out of the trees, and suddenly the dwarf was charging at the ogre.  He had his flail over his head, and his shield up in front of him.  The dwarf sidestepped a ponderous downward blow and turned away, slamming his flail against the monster’s side.

“Surrender!” Scartesh said, again, bringing the tip of his sword closer to Bastian who stood, and took a step back.  His warhammer was as his side.   Scartesh risked a look away and yelled to Dumashg to kill Kazrack quickly.  As if in immediate obeisance, the ogre’s spike cudgel slammed into Kazrack’s shield.  The dwarf’s armor crunched and squealed in protest.  When Scartesh looked back, Bastian had withdrawn even more and had his shield raised.

“I guess both of your friends are going to have to die then,” Scartesh tisked. “It’s a shame, too.  I mean, I don’t care about a grubber (4), but I am half-man, too…”  He gestured at Gunthar’s crumpled bleeding form.

Kazrack looked up and was startled. Suddenly Adder was flanking him, sending a quivering blow just past the dwarf’s head.  Kazrack stepped out of the way and Adder had to leap back to avoid the morningstar of the frothing ogre.  The monk did not leap fast enough, and one of the spines clipped his shaved head, drawing blood.  Adder hurried past Kazrack, and the ogre turned to follow, as Kazrack was moving in that direction as well to check on Gunthar.

Bastian had had a similar idea, and was backing around a large tree to get back to Gunthar with Scartesh slowly following him, but ended up crossing the ogre’s path. 

There was a crunch, and the bearded warrior was bleeding out as well.

Seeing the ogre was momentarily distracted, Adder ran at Kazrack, driving the dwarf back with a flurry of blows.  “Why do you persist?!?” Kazrack growled.

“They are coming out of everywhere!” Wonder crept into Scartesh’s voice, as he pointed towards Ratchis, who was hurrying through the brush towards the fight.

The friar of Nephthys stopped a few feet from the other half-orc and they looked each other up and down and snorted.

“You!  You are Darksh?” (5) Scartesh asked after a moment.

Ratchis nodded.

“You are friends with him?” he pointed at Bastian.

Ratchis nodded again.  “_You_ I’ll talk to,” Scartesh smiled.  “Go help the grubber. I won’t stop you…”

Ratchis turned in time to see Adder stumble awkwardly as a kick he landed on Kazrack’s shield skidded off at strange angle.  The monk’s ankle twisted, and he had to hop and hobble to keep from falling. (6)  In that half a moment, Kazrack’s magic flail slammed the monk twice in the ribs. Bones crunched, and Adder clutched his side, and looking near unconsciousness.

Kazrack bellowed as his next blow was knocked astray by a devastating blow that punctured holes in on the right side of his breast plate.  Dumashg the ogre was not to be forgotten, the rune-thrower slid through the grass on his side, feeling his wounds burn. (7)

Ratchis was calling to Nephthys for a healing spell for his dwarven companion, when the ogre noticed the new foe and slammed him on the hip, disrupting his spell.  But the distraction was enough for Kazrack to withdraw and cast his own spell to close some of his wounds, but by no means all.  He looked up to see Adder closing again, and felt those heavy calloused fists pummel the side of his head.

There was a hiss and snarl in a tree above them and they both looked up to see Roland in panther-form preparing to pounce from a low bough.

*End of Session #101*

----------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	Scartesh was first mentioned in the story hour in Session #88.  However, he makes an appearance in the Story of Ratchis.

(2) The second time the party ever met Gunthar was in the Honeycombe fighting quaggoths, back in Sessions #23 and 24.

(3)	*DM’s Note:* Scartesh scored a critical hit: _Helm Cleaved Off, Apply Crit Multiplier to Total Damage, Save vs. Knockdown._

(4)	In Aquerra, ‘Grubber’ is a derogatory term for dwarf.

(5) ‘Darksh’ is the name of Ratchis’ tribe. See the Zedarius’ Logistics of the Necropolis, and of course, the Story of Ratchis.

(6)	*DM’s Note:* Adder rolled the dreaded ‘double fumble’ by rolling a ‘99’ on the fumble result chart: “Roll Twice. Any saves at +5 to the DC. Ignore rolls of 99 or 00.”  Amazingly, I rolled ‘00’ for one of those rolls, but the second was “_Twist Ankle. Speed halved for 10 rounds._”

(7)	*DM’s Note:* Yep, another crit. This one was: _ Apply Crit Multiplier to Total Damage (and armor DP damage) _


----------



## Richard Rawen

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Let me ask this question:
> 
> In terms of the story itself, does it _feel_ like it's ending?





I don't know, these last few melee's are so surreal, *I* don't really see them _leading_ anywhere... but then I'm not the most perceptive person either...

It is still lots of fun to read, regardless =0)


----------



## Gold Roger

It's definitely a cool and unusual way to wrap up some loose ends.

Just telling you I'm still here and on the edge of my seat, even when I have little to commend.


----------



## el-remmen

Well, I have the next installment just shy of ready to go when Microsoft Word decides to crash and just not work again no matter how much I try.

So, while I was hoping to have another installment up as early as this evening - now I am not sure. . .

Oh, and thanks for the comments fellas!

Edit: I forgot this machine came with Word Perfect. . . So, I just opened the file in that.  Whew!


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #102 (part i)*

The earth shook each time Dumashg the ogre’s heavy morningstar missed Kazrack and bit into the dry grass.  Each time, Kazrack sidestepped just in time, predicting the wide gait of how all giant things fight, remembering the lessons taught to him by his father and uncle.  The dwarf felt Adder’s blows on his back, and had to turn again to keep his enemies abreast of him.

Ratchis came charging in at Adder, but the monk dove and tumble away, coming back up wary of the half-orc.

Roland leapt out of the tree with a roar meant to distract, but instead of joining the melee, he hopped over to where Bastian and Gunthar lay.  Seeing that the Neergaardian was hurt worse, he called to Bast of a _cure critical wounds_, and in a moment, Gunthar was sputtering awake, trying to shake off the lethargy of death’s door.  He was still critically wounded.

The monk hustled away from the melee, running right up the side of a tree just as he had when Ratchis and Kazrack had seen him last.

“Watch out for one of those fire beads!” Ratchis warned, charging for the tree himself.  “Everyone spread out!”  

Kazrack ran right for the tree as well, the ogre on his tail. Gunthar held back looking back and forth from the fight with the monk and the ogre and Scartesh just standing and watching from a few feet away; bastard sword resting on his shoulder. Roland looked up at the melee from healing Bastian in time to see Adder toss a bead that smashed against Kazrack’s helmet. It exploded.

Flames licked up the tree and Adder leapt higher into its branches.  Ratchis had rolled clear of the worst of it, but Kazrack hollered as patches of his face and beard were seared.  Dumashg’s armor was scorched, but he continued to attack relentlessly, oblivious to pain.

Ratchis fumbled in his bag for a flask of oil, hoping to take the tree down with the monk in it, but Adder leapt out of the tree and hurried towards another.  Ratchis dropped the flask in the grass and charged after him, but Adder leapt up again too soon.  Kazrack withdrew from the ogre, keeping on the defense in order to pick the flask of oil up.

So exhaustion might give way to simple fatigue, Roland cast _lesser restoration_ on both Bastian and Gunthar.  He followed it up with another healing spell on the Neergaardian, while Bastian moved to get a view of the fight.

Kazrack’s shield absorbed blow after blow from the ogre’s morningstar..  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Adder leap down out of the tree striking Ratchis full on in the face.  The half-orc stumbled back half a step and hacked wildly with his sword to get some space.  The monk easily avoided the swings, but Kazrack came around from the other side to flank him.  The ogre still followed the dwarf, each blow meant to kill outright.

Bastian called to the flame in his strange arcane dwarven, and a small ball of it appeared in his hand.  He flung it at Adder, but the monk easily leapt high to avoid it, twisting and bringing a kick to the side of Ratchis’ head as he came back down.  Ratchis fell stunned, and the monk kicked him viciously twice more in the head and neck.  He might have finished the now unconscious half-orc, if the pain of Kazrack’s flail to his kidney did not force him to turn and defend himself.  The monk avoided another of the small balls of flame Bastian produced, and Gunthar began launching arrows from a safe distant at the tireless ogre.

“Scartesh! Call off the ogre!  We can still talk this out!” Bastian called. “Can’t you see something strange is going on?  I wasn’t trying to trick you!  The monk is our real enemy.…”

Scartesh sneered.  “Once he gets all worked up like this you just have to let him work it out of his system.  There’s no stopping him.”

Kazrack drew the fight away from his fallen companion, allowing Roland to hustle over to aid.  The dwarf moved around Adder, putting the monk between him and the ogre.  Dumashg, seeming to prefer a straight line whenever possible, slammed the monk in the head full on.  There was an explosion of blood and then monk was bleeding out, his blood intermingling with Ratchis’ own growing pool.  However, a moment later, Roland’s healing spells had the friar coughing and spitting out blood as he sat up.

Again and again, Kazrack withdrew, absorbing the ogre’s blows on his shield, and trying his best to pierce its armor in return.  Finally, the ogre stopped and teetered atop his tree-trunk legs.  It let out a long low breath and then fell over.

“All that huffing and puffing works better when you can kill things quick,” Scartesh quipped.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t cut you a new one?” Gunthar challenged.

“Because you are all seriously hurt and you can’t take me on your best day,” Scartesh replied matter-of-factly.

“Wanna find out for sure?” Gunthar raised his swords.

“Gunthar! No!” Ratchis barked.  

The Neergaardian stopped.  “Pig-f*ckers always stick together…”

“We letting Adder bleed out?” Bastian asked quietly.

Ratchis and Kazrack nodded silently, but Roland purred his assent.

“Now can someone tell me what is happening?” Scartesh asked.

“I do not know why we should explain ourselves to you,” Kazrack replied.  

“Bastian never told me he had among his companions one of our heritage,” Scartesh said, approaching Ratchis familiarly.

“You know each other?” Ratchis looked back and forth from the other half-orc to Bastian.  Bastian nodded.
Kazrack glared at Bastian. Roland pawed over and rubbed against Bastian’s legs lovingly, still in panther-form.

“It seems like there is a lot of explaining to do,” Kazrack said.        

“And I shall try my best to explain but…” A tall broad figure was stepping out of the overgrowth.  It was a brown-skinned man with a bare chest, a bald head and a gray skull cap.  He had muscular arms, baggy dark blue pants, and muscular arms.  It was Hurgun of the Stone, and a trail of blue-white sparkling light was spiraling out from around him.  


Tholem, the 4th of Ese – 565 H.E.

Perception rippled.  Sight, sound, smell and sensation warped and twisted into a sharp blue-white wave that washed over them. Suddenly they were standing about the dais and central throne of the Control Room, and Hurgun was standing before it still talking to them. “In this moment in time the time elemental is gone, and I am free thanks to your intervention, however, though this is the conclusion, it is not the end.  The anomaly is a deep one, and you have one more place you have been, but you have not been there yet.”

“I don’t understand…” Kazrack began.

“Where are the others?” Roland asked. “Sergio? Razzle?”

“Your group is bound by destiny, just as others are bound to their own,” Hurgun replied.  “They have their own places to be.”

“I don’t understand…” Kazrack said again.

“It will all be made as clear as possible very soon,” Hurgun replied.  He had an incredibly deep and commanding voice.  “Just remember, whatever else happens you have already succeeded in freeing me and saving my Maze – just be cautious.  The flow of time is always repairing itself, attempting to undo paradox, rewriting memory to fit actuality and vice versa.  However, though you are in the present now, there is one more stop in the future, and the future is always in flux.  Die there… Be defeated there… and though the world may not be changed, _you_ can be… And what you see and find there is a good indication of the events of the future, so remain alert and observant… Defeat what you find there… These moments of conflict and crisis resonate through time the more important their outcome is to the direction of history…”

“Where…uh… _when_ are we going to?” Roland asked.

“Can you not feel it coming?” Hurgun asked. “It is happening now…” The last word stretched out and warped into a long low hum that reverberated with the Control Room.  There was a blast of blue-white light, and once again the Keepers of the Gate were gone.                                                                                                             


Teflem, the 13th of Oche – 565 H.E.

“Where in the Hells are we?” Gunthar asked.  They were spread out in knee-deep murky water, in the entrance to some kind of cave choked with dripping vines and reeds.  There was a sliver of light from way behind them through the undergrowth, peeking through, but barely enough for the humans to see by.  Warm air was wafting up out of the cave.

“There is a terrible smell here…” Roland whispered.  “Some big animal… Monster…”

“Huh? What? How did I get here?” came a voice from the reed-choked darkness that shocked them.  Ratchis looked in that direction, his darkvision flipping everything into shades of gray, black and white.  It was a  tall figure in the robes of an Academy mage, with shaggy red hair that was long in the back.  Thomas the Squirrel came to life on the half-orc ranger’s shoulder, chittering happily as it leapt to the figure.  

It was Martin the Green.

“Martin!” Kazrack cried happily, and the dwarf’s voice echoed in the cave.

”Hush!” Ratchis admonished, but trudged over to the watch-mage and clapped a big ham-hand on his shoulder.  “We thought you were dead…”

“I think I was…” Martin replied in a shaken voice.  “What is this place?  How did I get here?  I…  I… uh, have a vague set of memories regarding a journey to this place, but they are foggy… Just like my memories of…” The watch-mage shuddered. “…Of that place where I had to destroy the book…” It was then that those who could see noted that Martin the Green seemed whole. His face was not disfigured, his teeth were all there, and his skin was not sallow and blackened in places. 

“How is this possible?” Kazrack asked.

“How has any of this been possible?” Roland asked.  “But since we are in the future, and Martin is here, we have reason to hope that he will be brought back to life.”

“N’kron?” Bastian reached out to his familiar mentally, and this time there was a response. “Where are you?”

“Flying high above… Confused…” the hawk replied.

“What do you see?”

“A cold marsh surrounding a high round place - you are underneath,” N’kron said.  Bastian relayed this to the others.

The Keepers of the Gate realized that they had a full compliment of spells, even spells they did not recall preparing, and their many wounds and their fatigue was gone. (1) There was a flurry of castings: _bull’s strength_, _bear’s endurance_, _magic circle of protection from evil_, and _mage armor_.

“We might be watched,” Martin suggested, and cast _detect scrying_.  But he shook his head no.  “Should I take the time to cast _arcane eye_ and explore the cave beyond?” (2)

“Let us move into the cave a bit,” Kazrack suggested. “Our mobility is limited here in this vine-choked entrance. I would rather we be able to spread out and defend ourselves.”

It was agreed.  

The cave beyond was much wider and deeper than they could see across, even with darkvision, and the murky water lapped against their knees, except for Kazrack, as the water reached his thighs, splashing up to his waist whenever he took a step.  Gunthar snapped on his _darkvision goggles_.

In the middle of the chamber a plateau of stone rose fifteen feet out of the water. To their right, a jagged pillar of stone, nearly flat on top reached six feet.  In the far right corner, a tangle of roots fifteen feet across hung from the ceiling to kiss the murky water. (3)

Martin the Green began his casting.

Bastian cried out in alarm as the long jagged maw of a crocodile snapped shut right beside him.  He had leapt back at the last possible moment to keep from being grabbed.  The narrow wake of a second beast was making it way towards him as well. Roland pounced atop the first one, worrying at its thick hide with his panther’s teeth, as Bastian slammed it on the head with his warhammer, and withdrew.  However, the second animal cut off his retreat, as he felt the hard slap of its tail against the back of his legs and he nearly fell.

Kazrack stepped forward with one mighty blow, he crushed the thing’s skull.  Gunthar charged in and skewered the one Roland was working at, killing it as well.  Noting a third of the animals, Roland leapt over and attacked, getting bitten for his trouble, as Bastian hustled in, struck and moved away again, in his usual cautious style.

Ratchis remained near the still casting Martin, to guard the mage from interruption and noticed small figures hopping up onto the central platform of stone out of the darkness.

“Look!” he pointed.  Kazrack looked up from killing the final crocodile.  There were five gnomes lining up along the edge of the plateau.  They wore rags.

“Those better not be more friggin’ demon gnomes,” Gunthar swore.

“More demon gnomes?” Roland asked, as he could not see.

“They look like normal gnomes to me,” Kazrack said.  “Hello?” He called to them.

“Run away!” One of the gnomes peeped in a whispered yell.  “She’s coming!”

Roland walked over towards Ratchis and Martin, “What does he mean ‘she’s coming’?”

And as if in answer, a large draconic form flew out of the darkness to land behind the line of gnomes.  Her body, bristling with wiry muscle was just over ten feet long, though her tail and neck nearly tripled that.  She snapped her leathery wings as she landed, showing their nearly thirty-five foot span, and as her mouth opened she revealed row after row of vicious teeth, as her long forked tongue licked them clean.  

“Oh, no…” Ratchis said.

Glamorgana roared.

----------------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	*DM’s Note:* (_slight spoiler if you are reading the notes as you come across them_) 



Spoiler



At the end of the previous session, I told the players that they’re homework was to prepare a spell list as if they were about to face a dragon. At the beginning of this scene, I told them they were fully healed and they now had that prepared list to cast from.



(2)	_Arcane Eye_ has a casting time of 10 minutes.

(3)	_Put behind an S-block to avoid spoilers for those who have not read the installment yet:_ [sblock]
	

	
	
		
		

		
			





[/sblock]


----------



## Gold Roger

Sweet!


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

Now this has the feel of finality. It's been a good ride and I look forward to seeing how it ends.


----------



## Dawn

Looking good! Showdown time!


----------



## handforged

I also have to say that I feel like we are getting somewhere now.  I was pretty confused with all of the time hopping fights with Adder, except that maybe in the end they had to kill Adder to free Hurgun.  I am glad to see Martin in on the fight against the dragon.  I cannot wait to see how this goes, and then again, to see how it goes when they face her in the present.  I hope that they are paying attention to details.

~hf


----------



## Manzanita

Gosh.  I don't remember Scartesh at all.  Did we figure out some of Bastion's past there?  Sort of.  But there's more to come with that, perhaps.  Finally facing the dragon.  Looking forward to this one.  Perhaps we'll get an overview of how Hurgon was freed & what the consequences of that are.

I figured they'd fight the dragon in Hurgon's maze, or outside of it.  Wasn't it attacking with an orc army as the KOTG were inside


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Gosh.  I don't remember Scartesh at all.




Well, he never appeared in the actual story hour before. He was mentioned in Session #88 by one of the orcs in the scouting party they rescued Gunthar from, and he did appear very briefly in Ratchis' background. 



			
				Manzanita said:
			
		

> Did we figure out some of Bastion's past there?  Sort of.  But there's more to come with that, perhaps.




All we are ever going to get is allusions to Bastian and Scartesh's connection, though I think it can be figured out in light of Bastian's conversation with Roland in Topaline about his "desertion" of the Gothanian militia and his reasons for it.

Once the story hour is complete, it will be easier to figure out, though it is never outright discussed (that I remember).



			
				Manzanita said:
			
		

> Finally facing the dragon.  Looking forward to this one.  Perhaps we'll get an overview of how Hurgon was freed & what the consequences of that are.




Hurgun will be doing a lot of explaining and helping to wrap things up in the final session. 



			
				Manzanita said:
			
		

> I figured they'd fight the dragon in Hurgon's maze, or outside of it.  Wasn't it attacking with an orc army as the KOTG were inside




No, it was not with the orcish forces "attacking" the fortress outside.  I put "attacking" in quotes because it becomes clear later that they were not _really_ attacking.


----------



## Richard Rawen

Heh, with all this going on, I'm wondering about the gnomes... 

layers and layers . . . 

Fun Stuff !


----------



## el-remmen

Expect the next installment in a day or three. . . or even sooner!


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #102 (part ii)*

The roar was like nothing they had ever heard, as if the sound had already shaken its way out of the marrow of their bones before being echoed by the wyrm’s maw.

“Lords and Lady, please let my faith be a shield to protect me from that which was ever an enemy of our people,” Kazrack prayed as he moved towards the dragon.

“This isn’t how the bloody plan is supposed to work ” Gunthar explained, moving off to the right to take a wide approach to the stone island the dragon had landed on.  She moved her great head back and forth to take them all in.

Ratchis ducked down in the murky water, so only his head from the nose up broke its surface, while Martin abandoned his casting of _arcane eye_ and cast _alter self_ instead, changing into his oft-used Tanweil form.  He followed Ratchis’ example.

“Bast  Bless us with your light ” Roland chanted, and suddenly he was glowing, illuminating the corner of the cave that held him and Ratchis and Martin. 

“Intruders dare enter our domain again?” Glamorgana’s voice was sibilant.  It snaked its way around the ears, and made the head swim.  “The little ones serve us, but you. . . You all we shall devour ”

“We should spread out ” Bastian said.

“No  Gather to me ” Ratchis said, sticking his head up and moving close to Martin.  Roland splashed over there as well, waiting to cast his _prayer_ spell when all his allies were in range.  Bastian obeyed, but stopped when he saw the dragon reel back and then throw her head forward with a gasp.  A noxious cloud of green vapor roiled over Kazrack and then unfolded over Martin, Ratchis and Roland. Gunthar had not listened to Ratchis’ call.

They cried out in alarm and Roland was able to leap clear of any real harm, but once again Ratchis called them back, hacking and tearing as the vapor clung to him.   Martin saw _the Wurfel Kraft_ in Ratchis’ hand and said, “Grapes ” (1) The lips of his current form giving him a sibilant tone as well.  The Friar of Nephthys activated the cube as Martin stepped into its area, Roland followed suit with Bastian on his heels, but Gunthar approached carefully, coming around the long way, out of what he hoped was out of range of the dragon’s breath weapon.  And Kazrack’s dwarven legs could not carry him back in time, for with another blast of fetid air from the wyrm came another cloud of gas, and the dwarf was nearly overcome, even though he was able to wrap a hand about his face and nose and duck most of the way down into the water.

Kazrack reached the others and called to his gods to protect Martin from evil.  Gunthar changed direction and moved into the darkness towards the central island. Bastian moved to climb the rock beside them, and aid Kazrack make his way up as well.

“Oh Great Queen Bast  Thou who art as powerful as thou art graceful  I ask you to grant us the benefit of a _prayer_ that we might over come this ancient serpent ” Roland chanted.

Martin and Roland were driven back by a splash, as suddenly the dragon was about ten feet away.  The huge maw came in and Ratchis felt the long teeth grind against this back and sides, as the protection of the _Bracers of Axo-Morë_ let him slide out without being torn in half.

“_Sagitta Igneus_ ” Martin cast, and two bolts of flame went flying at the dragon’s head, but she moved with great speed for a thing of her size, and easily avoided them.  “Ratchis   Gate ”

Still reeling from the ferocity of the attack, Ratchis pressed the side of the cube Martin the Green suggested, and the nearly invisible field, turned a bright light blue.  The dragon bit and clawed at the cube with anger, but even her preternatural strength could not break through its magic.  Frustrated, she was suddenly in the air again, landing with a splash near the solitary Gunthar.

“Oh sh*te ” Gunthar turned to run, but the dragon’s head slammed into his head and shoulders, sending him stumbling through the muck.

“She’s playing with us,” Roland growled softly.

Soon all but Gunthar were atop the six-foot high platform of stone, within the protection of the cube.

“We may not be able to defeat her,” Ratchis said.

“Gunthar is going to die ” Martin exclaimed.  Roland cast _cure critical wounds_ on Kazrack, and Martin followed up with _bull’s strength_ on Roland. Ratchis cast _divine favor_.

“We need to rescue those gnomes ” Kazrack said.

“They have been here for a long time, and as much as it pains me to see them in captivity, we do them no good getting ourselves killed,” Ratchis said. “We should retreat and return another time.”

“Can we do that?” Bastian asked.  “Hurgun made it sound like this was important somehow. . .”

“We have all the time in the world,” Roland replied.  He might have smiled if he were not wearing a panther’s face.

“But we have to try to get Gunthar,” Ratchis said.

“Do we?” Kazrack asked, and Ratchis frowned.

Coordinating their efforts, the Keepers of the Gate rolled the cube into the murky water with a great splash, and made sluggish progress in the direction of the stepping stones leading up to the island where the gnomes still stood, shaking in silent fear.

Luckily for Gunthar, the dragon took off for the other side of the cavern when it heard the splash.  The Neergaardian had suffered two deep claw punctures, and his shoulder had been worried by dragon teeth.  He had withdrawn over and over again, stabbing at its face and breast whenever it got close, and then withdrawing again. None of Gunthar’s blows could cut through the wyrm’s scales, and finally he dove into the deep water and swam into a deep depression all about the large island.  He struggled with the weight of his armor and gear, still clutching his short sword, and soon found himself atop a pile of copper and silver coins that filled that submerged area. He tried again and again to swim to the surface, feeling his lungs burn hotter and hotter. (2)

The Keepers of the Gate were startled by the sudden clatter of the dragon landing atop the cubic force field of _the Wurfel Craft_.  “Sundial ” Martin said to Ratchis, and the half-orc quickly did it.  As Roland cast _aid_ on the still wounded Kazrack.  “Attack ” the watch-mage cried. (3)

Bastian leapt and slammed the dragon the best he could with his hammer, but his blow was as ineffectual as Kazrack’s first halberd thrust (4), but the second wedged the head of the weapon into the muscle of a foreleg.  Again, they felt the dragon’s roar reverberate through their bodies.  Glamorgana leapt back off the cube, deftly and breathed her noxious breath again.  

Ratchis and Bastian winced and fought to wipe their faces of the gas that ignored the force field altogether.  Kazrack, Martin and Roland felt the burn as well, but were able to duck into the water before they had breathed in too much.

Roland cast _protection from energy_ on himself, realizing the gaseous breath was caustic, not poisonous. Kazrack called to his gods to heal the worst of Ratchis’ wounds.

“Gunthar is dead,” the half-orc murmured.

“What?” asked Kazrack.

“The dragon came back and Gunthar is nowhere to be seen or heard,” Ratchis said.  “He must be dead.  We should retreat.”

Kazrack grunted his displeasure, but the group changed direction, willing the _cube of force_ to head towards the vine-choked entrance to the cavern.

“Is this how it shall be?” the dragon hissed, and they closed their eyes to concentrate on pushing the cube along.  “The intrepid heroes?  The stalwart adventurers that enter the dragon’s lair, stick their little heads under their tortoise shell and roll their way home?  Hmmm?”

“Do not listen to her,” Martin the Green warned.  “Dragons are said to have the power of _suggestion_.”

“My goddess protects us,” Ratchis said.

The dragon landed between the Keepers of the Gate and the entrance, turning her body quickly, the reflection of Roland’s _light_ spell shimmering off the rolling green and black scales.

“We can play this waiting game for a thousand years,” she laughed, and the laughter of a dragon was dreadful to hear, as if the sound rolled around and curdled in your stomach.  The dragon took off again and landed atop the six foot high piece of stone the Keepers of the Gate had been on just a few moments before.  They moved along at a snail’s pace.

“You know. . .” Martin began quietly, re-adjusting the stubby wings of his altered form nervously. “She might familiar with _the Wurfel Kraft_, and is waiting us out, knowing it cannot last long enough to get us very far. . .” 

“We need to decide what we are doing ” Kazrack barked. “Are we fleeing or taking a stand?”

“_Oh valde venes autheo acha narro_,” Glamorgana chanted, and the vines and roots in the entrance began to roil.

Ratchis sighed.  After a heated whispered moment, they turned the cube and began to head back towards the dragon.

In the center of the cavern they heard Gunthar’s voice.  He had managed to climb to the top of the depression and pull himself above the water, and while the dragon was preoccupied, he had made his way up to the center raised stone island.

“Hey  Wormy  I got your little gnome friends here   I’m gonna have to kill them before I get to you ” He swung his sword over his head dramatically.

With a snap of her wings, Glamorgana took off once more, landing behind Gunthar and spinning around to bite him.  The gnomes scurried out of the way, one of them shrieking in absolute fright. “Ya bitch. . .” Gunthar mumbled as teeth snapped on his arm and shoulder with great speed.  He jerked himself free with a gush of blood, and collapsed onto the damp stone, dying.  Glamorgana took to the air once more and landed right in front of the cube.  The rest of the Keepers of the Gate had made some progress, but the cube slowed them down quite a bit, and they stopped to cast some healing spells, including one on Thomas who has been burned by the dragon’s caustic breath.

“Would it not make more sense to disengage _the Wurfel Kraft_ now and attack?” Glamorgana asked, pointing her remarks towards Ratchis.  The half-orc snarled feeling the enchantment of her _suggestion_ wash over him harmlessly.

“We’re going to have to get closer,” Martin whispered to the others.  They moved towards the dragon, trying to make towards the stepping stones, but she continued to shift over, just out of reach, but ready with her deadly bite.

“_Sagitta Magicus!_” the dragon chanted and three arrows of light slammed into the cube and dissipated.  She roared in frustration.  The Keepers of the Gate moved again, and again Glamorgana shifted over to block their progress.  They stopped to allow Martin the Green to cast _greater invisibility_ on Ratchis.  Roland cast _divine favor_.  And then they moved right into the dragon, as Martin having taken over control of the cube changed it to only keep out living matter.  There was a flurry of weapons, trying to reach through the field at Glamorgana, as she gnawed and clawed at it to no avail.  She snarled and leapt back when Kazrack’s halberd found a weak spot in her scales and drew steaming green blood that spattered on the cube and then dripped through a half a moment later.

Martin chanted an arcane word and a sickly green ray flew from his finger and struck the dragon.  She suddenly drooped and fell back even further, her wings dragging through the murky water, as she found her great strength greatly diminished. (4)

“Let me out of the cube!  I will fell this dragon myself!” Kazrack barked, frustrated with his inability to follow up on his attacks.

“_Sagitta Magicus!_” the dragon chanted again, and this time the _magic missiles_ struck Kazrack in the chest.  The party moved forward, with Bastian taking hold of the  _the Wurfel Kraft_ at Martin’s behest. The dragon retreated once more and sent three more arrows of light into Kazrack.  Bastian pressed the side of the stone cube depicting a bunch of grapes and the cube’s brightness and azure tone dimmed.  Ratchis and Kazrack charged with a choral roar. 

Martin began an elaborate somatic dance, tracing a circle in the water as he chanted loudly.

Kazrack grimaced as the dragon slammed her head into his charging form, but he was able to turn and cut her deeply on the neck. Glamorgana moved with unnatural alacrity, lifting a claw to smack away Ratchis and avoiding his great sword, even as she used the momentum to rear up and avoid Roland’s pounce at her head.

There was a blast of white light as a great white glowing bison, six feet at the shoulder appeared and charged at the dragon, leaving a wake in the muck.  Roaring with pain and anger, Glamorgana took off once again and landed atop the island.  A short bark was all it took for the gnomes to fall in line in front of her again.  Gunthar continued to bleed out beneath her.

She sucked in and then let out a blossoming plume of her caustic breath.  Kazrack and Ratchis cried out in pain from the burns once again, while Martin ducked as quickly as he could into the water.  He felt Thomas spasm beneath his hood and then felt the sharp inner agony of his familiar’s death.  His arcane power was diminished and he collapsed in the water letting out a sob. (5) He had been casting another summoning spell, but it was disrupted.

The dragon began creeping across the stepping stones as quickly as she could, making for a natural stone corridor they could now see winding into the darkness of the deep left portion of the cavern.  She was leaving a trail of green blood behind her, dragging her tail as if crippled. The lip up to where she went was about four feet above Ratchis’ head..

“Oh Great Queen Bast, thou who art as powerful as thou art graceful, smite this wyrm with a column of you holy flame![/I] Roland prayed, and a pillar of flame appeared from the darkness above engulfing the dragon.  When the smoke and steam cleared the dragon emerged untouched.   The spell could not get through its draconic resistance to magic.

Bastian fired a crossbow bolt that went wide of the escaping dragon, as Ratchis and Kazrack cast healing spells upon themselves.  Ratchis followed this up with a spell on Kazrack, as the dwarf was still looking seriously wounded.

Glamorgana hurried into deeper into the passageway, and while they could see her tail still emerging from the darkness, the rest of her was obscured.  They heard the breaking of glass.

“She has a whole cabinet of potions back there!” One of the gnomes cried.  “She can chew through glass as if it were bread!”

“Potions?   She’s healing herself!” Martin croaked as he took to the air, his stubby wings flapping furiously.  He came down on the raised shelf, as Ratchis, still invisible, pulled himself up beside him.  Roland leapt up onto the shelf easily, and snapped his jaws at Kazrack’s cloak to help the struggling dwarf up. Kazrack kicked futilely.   Bastian made it up as Martin began his emphatic casting of a summoning spell once again, and the bearded warrior turned to help Roland pull up Kazrack, but still they struggled, the dwarf’s eagerness undermining his potential success.

Glamorgana whirled around with a roar and charged at Martin the Green. The watch-mage ducked in time with his casting, never losing his rhythm, and another celestial bison appeared, even as the dragon pulled away from the chop of Ratchis’ dragon-hilted masterwork greatsword.  The bison charged right by, missing the wyrm completely. It bellowed as the dragon clawed it deeply.

Ratchis thought he could use the distraction to move within the dragon’s defense, but miscalculated, feeling the claws and bite rip into him. Being invisible seemed to prove no help against this foe. “_Sagitta Igneus_ ” Martin chanted, he pulled his hand away nervously as he released the spell remembering that an invisible Ratchis was engaged with his target. The _flame arrow_ went wide.  The second fiery bolt dissipated as it struck the dragon.  She brought her claws down on Ratchis once again, but the Friar of Nephthys would not withdraw even as he felt sore muscles tear and his blood seep from him.  He drove his sword deep into the left side of the dragon’s breast. She reared up again, and the sword was drawn out leaving a ragged wound. Ratchis flicked the blade up with wrists, catching her under the snout, sending a cascade of steaming green blood all over them.

Her screaming roar was like nothing they had ever heard.

Kazrack finally made it up, dragging himself over the lip onto his stomach and scrambling to get to his feet.  Roland turned away from the dwarf and to lay another curing spell on Ratchis, as the dragon withdrew once again, but he could not find the half-orc.

They heard the tell-tale deep inhale before the stinging breath of the dragon was all over them again.  Kazrack swayed and fell, but on the edge of death, Ratchis charged. He leapt over the monster’s head as he brought his sword down with a powerful hack on one of her haunches.  Once again she reared up, but Ratchis was ready, putting his sword up to catch her with the tip of it where her head met the body.  There was a tearing sound of sinew and muscle and a rain of green blood as she came down, her own weight helping the blade cut her tough flesh.

The half-orc took three hurried steps back as the huge form of the dragon collapsed with a final breath.

The Keepers of the Gate let out a cheer, even as Roland brought Kazrack back to consciousness with a spell, but the cheer quickly died. The dead form of the dragon began to change and melt.  In a moment it was a pile of vaguely dragon-shaped ice and snow, and then it was a puddle with tiny dissipating crystals shining in the light of Roland’s spell. (6)

“Oh, no. . .” Martin the Green gasped, recognizing what he saw.  “That was not the real dragon. . . We are so dead. . .”

Suddenly, they were falling through an infinite plane of blue and white, their senses warping and their minds reeling until they were eager for the coming unconsciousness.
-------------------------------------------------------
*Notes:*
(1) Pressing the side of the stone cube that depicts a bunch of grapes creates a force field that keeps out gases, wind, etc. . .

(2) *DM’s Note:* Gunthar failed a swim check two rounds in a row.

(3) Pressing the side of the stone cube that depicts a sundial keeps put all living matter, allowing weapons to go through.

(4) *DM’s Note:* Martin’s _ray of enfeeblement_ drained 8 points of the dragon’s strength.

(5) *DM’s Note:* Martin failed his saving throw, losing 2000 XP, which dropped him to 9th level.

(6) *DM’s Note:* This battle took 43 rounds.


----------



## Gold Roger

Noooooo! Not Thomas!


----------



## Scider

A simulacrum! Man, that's bitter!
I am more than curious what Hurgun has to say about this...a warning how things might end if they are not careful about the simulacrum in the future, perhaps?


----------



## BlackCat

Gold Roger said:
			
		

> Noooooo! Not Thomas!



LOL I think that was the reaction around the table. It's funny how familiars, when done right, become total characters unto themselves. I think that Thomas was really the perhaps unmentioned last member of the Keepers of the Gate. It was unfortunate that moments like these make that clear.


----------



## Richard Rawen

*shakes head sadly* goodbye Thomas.

SO... a simulacrum... where does that leave the KotG exactly? 

Truly I have stopped hazzarding guesses, my legendarily mediocre plot guessing skills are overmatched =-P  heh heh


----------



## Manzanita

A Simulacrum.  Interesting.  I had to go look up the spell.  Yes - they're screwed.  Or would be.  Looks like something else happened there in the end.  It's all a bit weird here.  I wonder if that really is the end of Thomas.


----------



## el-remmen

Last night I wrote up the first 3 pages of what will prove to be the second to last installment of this story hour, as the very last session was short enough that it will likely be covered in one installment (and not counting the two "reunion" sessions, of course).


----------



## Pyske

Do we ever learn why it was that Debo could not die?


----------



## el-remmen

Pyske said:
			
		

> Do we ever learn why it was that Debo could not die?





Please refer to _Reunion Special Session #1_ for the answer. . .


----------



## el-remmen

*1 session to go. . .*

*Session #102 (part iii)*

Balem, the 5th of Ese - 565 H.E.

“What was it then?” Roland was still asking as the dark of unconsciousness gave way to a fading blue-white corona that spun around them and then disappeared.

The Keepers of the Gate found themselves back in the Control Room, facing the dark broad figure of Hurgun of the Stone, where he sat in his raised stone chair.  Martin the Green was no longer with them. Ratchis looked to find Thomas’ little corpse in the hood of his cloak, but the familiar was gone.

“You have returned,” Hurgun said in his quiet bass.  “You were only gone for but for a few moments, it seemed.”

“Where’s Martin?’ Ratchis asked.

“Is he not dead?” Hurgun asked in reply.

“But he was alive in the future!” Kazrack protested. 

“And so it could be that he will be alive again one day…” Hurgun said.

They all felt a fatigue weighing on their bodies, but were amazed to realize they bore no wounds, and the spells they had prepared that morning were all returned.

“How do we know you are who you say you are?” Kazrack asked, suddenly suspicious.  Roland of Bast rolled his eyes and sighed, but Hurgun was unphased.  In fact, the bald geomancer seemed to show little emotion at all.  

“You will have to take me on my word,” he replied.  “So, let us take care of business so that you may rest.  Let me lead you to the guest rooms.  I am informed you have seen them before and are familiar with their operations.”

“What happened to Gilbart?” Roland asked, suddenly remembering the geomancer’s assistant. (1)

“He has passed,” Hurgun replied. “It seem the demoness, Ora-Amira-El slew him, but I have you all to thank for destorying her.  I should have dealt with her as soon as I learned her true identity, but alas, I did not expect to be trapped by a time elemental for over one hundred years.

Hurgun have the slightest flick of his right wrist as he gripped the jeweled armrests of his throne.  He then gestured down the catwalk immediately behind them.  They noticed the portal between rooms were white now.  The mist below the catwalks was white as well, and smooth, like some kind of liquid snow.  It did not roil or bubble. No voices came from below.  Through the portal they found themselves in the cloudy confines of the Air Room; also known as the guest quarters.

Sergio appeared from one of the cloud rooms.  “Oh my! You are safe! What a relief!  I don’t know what you plan to do with us Hurgun, but these fine heroes will not allow your evil schemes to come to fruition!”

Hurgun of the Stone ignored the bard.  “A word to the wise,” he said to the Keepers of the Gate, point to Sergio without looking at him.  “Do not trust this one.  But while he was imprisoned longer than I had intended, I think having a chance at a whole new life, where no one knows who he is or his reputation, is both punishment and reward enough.”

“Do not talk of me as if I am not here!” Sergio Fontane protested.  “I insist on being let go.”

“There is an army of orcs outside,” Hurgun replied.  “You can leave now if you like, but I think you might prefer to leave in a few days time, after they have left and we have had time to _talk_.”

“And how will you get the orcs to leave?” Kazrack asked.

“All in due time,” Hurgun said. “First, I fear we have gotten side-tracked from the business I spoke of. I shall need for you all to give me the gifts you received from Chochokpi.  They have already been gone from him for too long, and if the anomalies from this event are to be kept to a minimum it needs be done as soon as possible.”

“At least one of the items was destroyed,” Roland said, speaking of Logan’s boots. (2)

Hurgun sighed. 

“I shall return mine personally,” Kazrack insisted.

“Yes! He cannot be trusted!” Sergio interjected.  “He wants them for himself.”

“The Maze has moved away from those planes.  The portal will not work now.  I will have to bring them there directly,” Hurgun explained.

“He’s lying.  He wants them for himself,” Sergio said again.

“If he really wanted them, I am sure he could take them,” Bastian reasoned, and he took of the _Robe of the Wayfarer_ and handed it off to Hurgun. Ratchis took off _Frojack’s Belt_ and gave it to Hurgun.  The half-orc looked to Kazrack and said, “You should trust. . .”  He then handed over _the Wurfel Kraft_ as well.

Kazrack harumphed his disapproval.  “I will throw the stones.”

Hurgun nodded and then turned to Gunthar Northrop. “I need that sword as well.” The geomancer gestured to the _Left Blade of Arofel_.

“No friggin’ way!” Gunthar spat and shook his head.  “If Stumpy ain’t giving up his halberd, I ain’t givin’ up the sword.”

“Are you proud of yourself, Kazrack?  Gunthar is taking you as a model for his behavior,” Roland chided.

“Leave him to his stones,” Ratchis said.

As Kazrack Delver threw his rune-stones, the others went through their gear and took inventory of what they in their packs.  In that time, Norena of Bast, Cordell of Thoth, and Razzle Greyish were led into the guest rooms.  Each had their own tales of having jumped around through time, but they were all tight-lipped about the details, and the Keepers of the Gate found that their own memories of what had happened were growing fuzzy.

Hurgun of the Stone returned an hour later, and Kazrack acquiesced, having attained a positive reading, but he did so nearly as grudgingly as Gunthar did.

“Now rest while I return these items to Chochokpi,” Hurgun said. “And when I return we will break bread and partake in a feast my servants are preparing, and I shall endeavor to clear up any remaining questions.”

“Questions like, since it was us that supposedly gave Chochokpi the magical items to give back to us in the past, where did they come from to begin with, and won’t your returning them change that past?”  Roland asked, truly puzzled.

“The past has already been changed much more than that,” Hurgun replied. “But then again, it has not.  Again, I will endeavor to explain the best I can over dinner…That is, the best that these kinds of things can be explained in mortal terms.”

“Are you saying you are an immortal?” Kazrack asked, his brow furrowing again.

“No, I am saying my mortal tongue will have difficulty wrapping around the paradoxes of time,” Hurgun said.

“All the more reason that time is the province of the gods and not of men or dwarves or elves,” Kazrack said.

Hurgun merely nodded and left with the items.  The Keepers of the Gate and their fellow guests could no long resist their fatigue and fell into deep naps of indeterminate length.  They felt well rested when a monodrone came to wake them all for dinner.

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

“This is where we get our reward, right?” Gunthar asked as the Keepers of the Gate were led into the Dining Room by the monodrone.  

The chamber had been cleaned up and the sliding screen repaired.  The cabinets were all still broken, but most of the sets of cutlery and plates were taken away; except of course of those laid of on the medium-sized table in an incredible spread.  There were four stuffed turkeys, two glazed hams, spiced potatoes, a horn of autumnal fruit, and bowls of a myriad of jams about three huge baskets of bread. There were sweetmeats and wheels of cheese and skewers of charred beef. There were pitchers of milk, horns of mead, flagons of wine and small casks of beer.  As he approached, Ratchis looked for asparagus, his favorite, but was disappointed. (3)

“I guess thanks are in order,” Hurgun said. He was standing at the head of the table, and for once actually smiled broadly showing pearly teeth.  He gestured to the table and chairs.  “Please sit.  The _unseen servants_ will serve whatever you ask for.”

“I will serve myself,” Ratchis said.

“As will I,” Kazrack said.

“As you wish,” Hurgun replied.

Roland of Bast sighed.  “Why must you both always be so bristly and antagonistic?  You make for terrible guests.”  He turned to Hurgun of the Stone and bowed low.  “Forgive my rough-edged friends, Master Hurgun.  We are deeply appreciative of your hospitality.”

“Uh never said I wasn’t appreshatuv!” Gunthar said, his mouth already stuffed with food.

“I meant no disrespect,” Ratchis said, glowering at Roland.

“Aye, nor did I,” Kazrack said.

They all sat and began to eat silently.  They were ravenous, and the food was beyond description. 

“You have questions?” Hurgun began after a time.

“Yes,” Kazrack stood, wiping his beard with a cloth napkin. “What happened to our companion, Martin?”

“He was destroyed as a result of completing his task,” Hurgun replied. “None return alive from where he went.”

“And how do you know this, if you were trapped in a time elemental?” Roland asked. “I do not mean to sound suspicious, but. . .”

“I have my sources in the planes that have interests in watching the affairs of mortals such as we,” the geomancer said.  “And there is deduction, and the stones of this maze themselves can each tell me what has transpired in their presence.”

“And is it true that Martin’s actions released an evil god’s power into our world?” Kazrack asked.
Hurgun nodded.

Kazrack’s face grew flush as he grit his teeth in anger, and his whole body began to shake. “And how do we redress this?” He asked as calmly as he could.

“You cannot,” Hurgun replied.  “It is part of the mending of creation and the correcting the imbalance of the cosmos.”

“I shall never understand the value of this ‘_balance_’ people speak of,” Kazrack replied, angrily.

“And what caused this imbalance?” Roland asked.

Hurgun took a long moment before replying. “The monks of Anubis failed to commit the proper sacrifice that is called ‘_Night of the Father_’ at the turning of the two-thousand and sixty-fourth year of this age, so according to ancient divine law the Furies should have been released to ravage the world of the mortal races, (4) but Anubis forgave his followers and held back the Furies, shifting his former allegiance in ways that resonate through all of creation, creating an opening.  It was by this opening that Rahkefet now emerges. Martin the Green was the means by which Osiris got it done, and destroying the artifact of a mortal who would pretend to godhood.”

“And Adder?” Roland asked.

“Dead,” Hurgun replied.  

“Well, that is gratifying,” Roland smiled.

“But we defeated him more than once when we were jumping though time,” Ratchis said.

“He is gone beyond recovery,” Hurgun said.  “By keeping him occupied he never had a chance to manipulate the time elemental and do something really destructive…”

“Like what?” asked Bastian.

“Like allow Rahkefet to bring an avatar to rule in Aquerra, as he did in the time of Agon the God-King of the Spice and Thread Islands,” Hurgun replied.  “Though more than likely he was not up to the task. He has not reached the level of enlightenment needed to understand the planes the way a hierophant can.  He still thinks of himself as _other_.”

“Does anybody else understand what the frig he’s saying?” Gunthar said, after impatiently grabbing a flagon of wine from a slow pouring _unseen servant_.  “It’s like I understand the words, but all together it is like… It is like Martin, but ten times worse. . “

“Gunthar…“ Roland began to warn.

“No, he is right,” Hurgun interrupted.  “Words are too small for these matters.  Simply put you kept him from interrupting me while I untwined the Maze from the Plane of Time, and allowed us to escape.”

“So Rahkefet turns from a forgotten and lost god, to a god for the lost,” Roland said.  “Interesting…”

“And his power in Aquerra will grow as word of him grows,” Hurgun said.

“So we must preach against him!” Kazrack slammed his fist on the table.

“Better not to speak of him at all then,” Bastian said, speaking for the first time.  He ate slowly, but with gusto, enjoying the many flavors that reminded him of the divine meals created by Abderus. (5)

“So, we have no worries about the pasts we visited?” Roland asked, changing subjects.  “I mean, the world we return to will be as we remember it, despite what we saw happen back then that was different, and despite the loss of one of the items granted by Chochokpi?”

Again, Hurgun of the Stone took some time before responding.

“Yes and no,” he finally said. “It _will _ affect things, though we can never be sure how.  We think of time as linear, this moment follows one and is followed by another – but it is more like ripples in a pond, or the circular ridges in the ground when the earth explodes.  Everything, from the forgotten bronze coin to the greatest knight of Neergaard is immersed in the liquid of time and no one of us can know how something or someone’s circles intercept that of others.  It is impossible to predict.  Things _change_ more often that you would imagine, but to the world and in the records of sages it as if those things had always been as they are.  Some say the cosmos is in constant need of maintenance, that we only play the roles set to us by the gods to accomplish these changes and repairs, but the gods themselves are only pawns of some greater power; a power without form and whose reasons, if any, are unfathomable to us. Though I have erred on the side of arrogance and sought to know, and many have suffered because of it.”

“So. . .?” Roland began, but stopped.

“It is the nature of Time to repair itself,” Hurgun continued. “Even when flung out to the realms beyond reason, it seeks to cling to the at least the illusion of order.  Only those involved near the center of these events can remember these things, and even then the mind tends to try to make it fit and make it work, until the true memory becomes a hazy thing, a dream, if it is remembered at all.  And then again, who is to say what the _true_ memory is, for was not the world different before then?  So these small items may make small changes, or they make big ones.  There may be some that will be immediately obvious, and ones that may not come to light until you are old men, and ones you may never encounter at all.  And chances are you will not notice anyway.  I would council you to forget.” (6)

“Why?” Kazrack asked, growing blustery with anger once again.

“If you wish to keep your wits, surrender to your new memories,” Hurgun said. “The mortal mind cannot hold such disparate elements for too long without fracturing…”

Once again, Kazrack’s anger was deflated, as his shoulders slumped. “To be angry at the movements of the cosmos is as to being angry at a mountain.  What does it solves? What does it change?” The dwarf’s voice was filled with resignation.  “However, Master Hurgun, you were right to call yourself arrogant.  What have you accomplished by dipping into the well of the gods?  You will do well to mark my words next time such an inclination strikes you.”

“Kazrack, you are being rude to our host again,” Roland said.

“No, the dwarf’s words are harsh, but not untrue,” Hurgun said with a sigh.  I would be playing myself false if I were to deny my failure and hubris.  When we are done here and I have made my preparations, I shall dissolve the Maze and build a home in a new place on this, the plane of my birth.  Perhaps it is time for me to deal with mortal affairs once again, as befits a mortal.”

“So what about our reward?” Gunthar asked, again.  He pulled his ale and wine sodden shirt from his chest with annoyance with one hand as he took another swig from a flagon with the other.

“We were willing to sacrifice our lives to save our world, anything beyond that is a blessing,” Ratchis said.

“Speak for yourself, Snuffles,” Gunthar choked down some wine.

“I shall give you a boon, and give you each a token that you might call on me for aid at some future time,” Hurgun replied.  From beneath the table he produced a blue velvet bag that drew open into a drop cloth.  Within were six iron coins each marked with Hurgun’s rune.  He handed one out to each of the five Keepers of the Gate, and explained their use. (7)

“Do we each get a boon, too?” Gunthar asked. (8)

“Just one boon you must agree to and share,” Hurgun replied.

“What do you mean by ‘boon’ exactly?” Roland asked.

“What do you _wish_ it to mean?” Hurgun answered a question with a question.

“Whu. . . Wish? Wish! Then we’re getting Jeremy back!” Gunthar exclaimed. He stood up and gestured with his cup, sending wine flying in all directions.

“You can’t make that decision on your own,” Roland protested, standing as well.

“I didn’t make it on my own, Puss-a-Wuss!” Gunthar yelled.  “Snuffles and Stumpy agreed to it when they begged me to help them on this quest!”

“We never begged!” It was Kazrack’s turn to protest.

“Oh! Now you try to go back on your word, huh?” Gunthar leaned way over to yell right in Kazrack’s face.  The dwarf pushed him away and stood back.

“Martin gave his life and perhaps his soul to keep a great evil from entering the world,” Roland said.

“He also helped bring another form of evil into the world to be more widely worshiped,” Bastian pointed out.

“That doesn’t matter,” Roland replied.  “He sacrificed himself willingly.  We should bring him back.”

“I will miss Martin dearly as well, but is it responsible of us to use such a boon for the life of one man?” Kazrack asked. “Can we not use it for some greater purpose that will help the world and perhaps redress some of the evil that will be caused by the dark god’s return?”

“It is often said, ‘beware what you wish for’, the larger the thing you request the more possible unforeseen consequences there might be,” Hurgun warned.  “You could fill every belly today, but condemn more to starve tomorrow.”

“I will never understand why anyone bothers with arcane magic, when wisdom would have you never use it,” Kazrack said.  “At least with divine magic you can substitute the wisdom your gods for your own in its use…”

“None of that bleedin’ matters,” Gunthar continued.  “We had a deal, and I plan to see that you stick with it. Why don’t we vote so I can see who I have to beat or kill to make sure I get to see my brother alive again.”

“We do not need to vote,” Roland replied.

”Why?  You planning on agreeing with me?”

“No,” Roland replied.

“Then we vote,” Gunthar said.  He looked around the table at his companions.

“Are you sure that he would even want to come back?” Ratchis asked. “He already returned from the dead once, and the responsibility for what his friends had to endure to bring him back weighed heavily on him, especially the death of Jana.  Perhaps he is in a better place now. . .”

“You are just trying to weasel out of it!” Gunthar spat. “Who is for bringing back Jeremy? Vote!”

Gunthar raised his hand, and Ratchis sighed and followed.  Kazrack grunted and did the same.  Roland and Bastian did not raise their hands.

”I do not know who this Jeremy person is, except the little I heard, but I did know Martin, and I think he is the one who should be returned,” Bastian said softly.

“Kazrack, you agree with Gunthar?” Roland asked.

“We gave our word,” Kazrack said.  “As much as I would like to see Martin back, and as much as I agree with what D’nar said, I cannot go back on it.”

“Excuse me?” Norena spoke up.  She and Razzle and Cordell were unusually quiet during the whole meal.  “And what of Richard the Red, Master Hurgun? Do you know what happened to him?”

Hurgun nodded.  “He was lost in the planes, his essence scattered, perhaps never to coalesce again.  It cannot be known. Though if the Keepers of the Gate would like, the boon could be used to return him…”

Roland burst out laughing, and then turned to Hurgun very seriously.  “No.”

“If he does return on his own, he is to be brought back to the Academy of Wizardry for trial,” Kazrack said.  “It is what Martin would have wanted.”

Hurgun nodded.

“So, Jeremy it is!” Gunthar said, returning to talk of the ‘boon’.

“You group does not seem to have come to a consensus,” Hurgun replied. “Take the night to talk it over and sleep on it.  You can give me your decision in the morning.  But there is one last thing…”

The geomancer’s gaze fell on Kazrack.

“There is a stone you have in your possession that hold the spirit of the heir of the last true dwarven king,” he said.  “I need for you to return it.”  He held out his hand.

Kazrack shook his head and stepped away from the table.  “No.”

“It was put in my custody by high priests of your order,” Hurgun explained. “A neutral party to look over it and keep it safe until such time that it might be needed again.”

“Then I shall return it to the high priests myself, and if they want to return it to you, let them,” Kazrack said. “I cannot in good conscience see this having entered my hands without good reason.  It may have even been pre-ordained.” (9)

“Kazrack, it is the greatest degree of hubris for you to think that your will, as well intentioned as it might be, should override a promise Hurgun gave to your people,” Ratchis said. 

“Yes,” Roland agreed. “Do you want to tempt our host to violence if you seek to make him break his own word?”

“I will not fight for it,” Hurgun said in his deep tone. “If Master Delver wants to take it, then he can take it … I am willing to see him as representative of his people in this matter at this moment; though again I must warn what changes might come from bringing this back to your people may not be all you have hoped for…”

”My people have changed,” Kazrack replied. “We need a king.  We need direction that unifies us as one people so that we might take our place in the world again, and so that Derome-Delem might be unified as one nation under one dwarven king.” (10)

“Yes, regarding the matter of the future of Derome-Delem, there is someone arriving who would like to speak to you all,” Hurgun of the Stone stood.  He gestured for Cordell, Norena and Razzle to join him.  “Finish your food and drink, as I bring your other _friends_ back to the guest rooms and see to some other things, in the meantime Scartesh as something he’d like to say to each of you.”

*End of Session #102* (11)


----------



## el-remmen

----------------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1) The PCs last saw Gilbart when he asked them to stay in guest quarters/Air Room back in Session #93.

(2) Logan’s pair of _Yossel’s Quickling Killing Boots_ were destroyed by the Ooze Para-elemental.

(3) Ratchis first discovered his love of asparagus at the feast in honor of the dragon-hunters at Castle Gothanius. (Session #11)

(4) *DM’s Note:* This cosmic mumbo-jumbo are consequences taken from the unfinished Company of the Rod campaign - my friend Sean’s Aquerra campaign from ‘99-‘01 (which I played in briefly as a fighter named “Henry ‘Beetle’ Hough”), which were a result of some shifts in Aquerra cosmology he and I had talked over to help fill out the evil side of Ra’s Pantheon.  You can read more about the Company of the Rod,  here.

(5) Bastian was staying with Abderus the Shedu in the demi-plane of Topaline when the Keepers of the Gate found him, back in Session #85

(6) *DM’s Note:* This is how I explain the changes to the setting that come both from changes to the rules, and desire for certain flavor. That is, it was as if it had always been that way.  I knew I would be changing a good number of things based on the effective play-test of houses rules and classes in this campaign, so it would serve as a means to changing that as well.

(7) You can read about Hurgun’s Tokens here: http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Magical+Item+-+Hurgun's+Token

(8) *DM’s Note:* Keep in mind that Martin’s player was running Gunthar this whole time.  So Martin’s player was arguing for his own character not being raised (even though he personally _did_ want it). 

(9) When Kazrack got his runes thrown by Daerngar way back in Session #7, it hinted at something like this. 

(10) There has not be a unified dwarven kingdom in Aquerra since the end of the 2nd Age, over 2000 years ago.

(11) *DM’s Notes*: This session was played on December 18, 2005.


----------



## Ciaran

el-remmen said:
			
		

> “And what caused this imbalance?” Roland asked.
> 
> Hurgun took a long moment before replying. “The monks of Anubis failed to commit the proper sacrifice that is called ‘_Night of the Father_’ at the turning of the two-thousand and sixty-fourth year of this age, so according to ancient divine law the Furies should have been released to ravage the world of the mortal races, (4) but Anubis forgave his followers and held back the Furies, shifting his former allegiance in ways that resonate through all of creation, creating an opening.  It was by this opening that Rahkefet now emerges. Martin the Green was the means by which Osiris got it done, and destroying the artifact of a mortal who would pretend to godhood.”



I thought Hurgun said that the imbalance was caused by the ascension of Fallon to divinity as the Goddess of Healing.


----------



## el-remmen

Ciaran said:
			
		

> I thought Hurgun said that the imbalance was caused by the ascension of Fallon to divinity as the Goddess of Healing.




Nope.  He gave that as an example as a time in the past when there was a similar imbalance and things had to happen to fix it - but I did not feel a second example was needed in the story hour to explain what had happened.


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## el-remmen

<chirp, chirp>​


----------



## Gold Roger

How'd you get that recording of my voice?

Well, there's a lot going on. So Anubis and his monks seriously messed up? Man, I so wish Beorth had remained with the group.

This explains the deal with Rakefet and the problems the monks of Anubis had. Also why Adder kept messing after succeeding in freeing his god.

Richard passed like that? Somehow I don't quite think he's completely gone.

The one big matter yet to be explained is the dragon.


----------



## handforged

Well, I definitely feel like things are wrapping up, what with Hurgun's excellent exposition of everything.  I am sure that the conversation with Scartesh will be quite interesting and we will get to see if any changes to history occured due to the time-hopping.  I certainly like Martin and feel like it would be nice to see him return, but I don't know that Kazrack and Ratchis would ever go back on their word.

We'll see.  And for that I am very excited!

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

So, would you rather have the last session in one big installment, or broken up into two smaller ones?


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

el-remmen said:
			
		

> So, would you rather have the last session in one big installment, or broken up into two smaller ones?




That depends. Does one big installment delay the delivery of that installment? Or does it speed up the delivery of the second installment?


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## el-remmen

Elder-Basilisk said:
			
		

> That depends. Does one big installment delay the delivery of that installment? Or does it speed up the delivery of the second installment?




I guess it would slightly delay.

I just realized the last session would be longer than I originally thought and so was considering breaking it up - since I got to a natural break in the story that would work for that, but I think I will wait until after tonight's writing and see how long it will take me to put up the second part - and if it seems like it will be a bit, I will post the first half.

Actually, the first half is a huge amount of info dump, so a break might not be a bad idea.


----------



## Gold Roger

Bring it


----------



## Manzanita

2 installments are better.  I often can't get enough time to get through a large installment in one swoop.

Nice to see some things wrapping up.  I should have written down more of my questions as we went, b/c I can't remember any off the top of my head.


----------



## el-remmen

Well I decided to break it up into two installments. . .

Also, I made a slight change to the end of Session #102.  Not a big deal.  Before I described Hurgun as taking Norena, Cordel and Razzle away - as in out of the Maze - But later notes pointed out that that did not happen then.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #103 (part 1 of 2)* (1)

“Scartesh?” Kazrack stepped back towards the table, fist clenched.

“The orcs that took the outer level of the fortress were acting as agents of Glamorgana the Green,” Hurgun said. “We had long ago brokered a deal regarding her aid in such an occurrence after I performed a favor for her.”

Kazrack’s mouth opened, but he could not make words.  He just jerked his head as if suffering palsy. 

“That clears some things up,” Ratchis said. “My people, the Darksh, worshiped the dragon, and we saw her flying over their camps as we returned from Nikar. (2)  If Scartesh serves her, then they would have accepted them as their leader when they had rejected him before.” (3)

 Hurgun of the Stone led Norena of Bast, Razzle Greyish and Cordell of Thoth through one portal as Scartesh, his ogre bodyguard, Dumashg and a stooped black orc wearing a grass skirt and a necklace of bones stepped in through another.

Ratchis stood and stepped slightly before his friend, moving from watching Scartesh, to the ogre, to the black orc, and then back again.  Kazrack murmured a prayer for wisdom and patience. None of them were armed.

“Bastian,” Scartesh said in his amicable growl.  “It is good to see you again.”

Bastian stood and walked over the half-orc and shook his hand, but gave a wary eye to Dumashg and to the black orc.

“It has been a little while,” the bearded warrior responded softly and smiled.

Scartesh reached down onto the table and grabbed up a strip of beef and began to chew, taking in each of the Keepers of the Gate one at a time.

“Hurgun said the watch-mage’s dead,” he finally said.  “That true?”

“Yes,” Bastian said.

“Well…” Scartesh scratched at his thick black naps, and looked out at everyone from under his dark eyes. “I was trying to figure out the best way to tell you… But I think I have to just come out and say it… Bluntly.”

He poured himself an ale.

“What you saw outside? That is just a small example of my forces,” Scartesh said.  He licked his dark lips, and nodded at the mug of ale, seeming to really enjoy it.  The ogre reached for some, but its hand was slapped away. “Just a taste of what I have been able to accomplish… I plan to make some changes in this part of Derome-Delem, and I need you all to help me.  You all have a role to play in making this work out the best for everyone involved; even the watch-mage.  It is a shame he died.”

“And what is it you have done?” Kazrack asked through gritted teeth.

“I have done what no one has done since the days of General Awzturk Boarblood, (4) uniting many disparate orc tribes for our mutual benefit and that of the world,” Scartesh said.  He had been fighting a smile, but it blossomed on his face as he spoke the words.  “And there are more tribes pledging themselves to us all the time. I have even made contact with our normally reclusive black brethren under the mountains. And we goblin allies, and others…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gunthar scoffed, and poured himself yet another glass of wine.

“After nearly two decades of work, I have overcome the resistance and tribal hatreds, and we shall carve a nation for ourselves, not for some evil wizard, self-aggrandizing priest or petty warlord who would use orcs as fodder for their own glory and power, but for ourselves, as other races have done and prospered. We will not destroy ourselves by trying to destroy the world of men, but take our place in it.”  He stood taller when he spoke, and his gaze fell to Ratchis many times.

“Yeah, that’ll go over well,” Gunthar slurred. Scartesh snarled and shot the Neergaardian a look.

“Well, that is a… um… worthy goal, I guess…” Roland said, and sucked down a glass of wine.

“Yes, it is,” Scartesh said.  “And _you_ will have to take the role I had for the watch-mage, Bastite” Scartesh said.

“Oh?” Roland looked up curious.  “I will try to be accommodating, but I really must know the details.”

“You seem to know a great deal about us. How is that so?” Ratchis asked.

“I have my sources,” Scartesh replied.  “Not the least of which are the druids of the Circle of the Thorn. (5)  Regardless, now that the Garvan gnomes and the king of Gothanius have made peace against us…”

“They have?  _Against_ you? What do you mean?” Bastian asked.

“The arrival of my forces made them both realize they needed to be allies if they were to deal with the multitude of orcs,” Scartesh explained.  “It is amazing how an outside threat can unite even the fiercest of enemies… As I was saying, now that they have made peace against us, I need someone to carry the message of my offer to them.  I had hoped it could be the watch-mage of Gothanius, but a Bastite will do when it comes to social graces and diplomacy.”

“And the message is?” Roland asked.

“The king must swear fealty to me,” Scartesh replied bluntly.  “He and his militia have no hope of resisting us, even with the aid of the gnomes.  But if he bends the knee, he may remain as ruler of this area and may even rule over his old enemies, Rhondria and Menovia when I have conquered them.  I prefer the foundation of this empire to be as bloodless as possible.  It would be better for all our people.”

“I am sure he will appreciate that,” Roland replied, with a smirk.

“Oh, he will not appreciate it,” Scartesh replied.

“I mean, he will understand the wisdom of it,” Roland said. “Not that he’d _like_ it.”

“Bastian,” Scartesh turned to the bearded warrior. “You are no longer liked by your people, and for whatever role I played in that I apologize.  However, your old reputation may still hold among the hunters and rangers of Archet and the western woods.  I am hoping you may be of help in making the transition of power in this area a peaceful one by going to them and explaining the situation.”

Bastian was silent for a long moment, mulling his words as usual.  “I am not sure of my own opinion on this matter, but I can still bring your message and explain to the best of my ability to those that will listen.”

Scartesh nodded and then looked to Kazrack. “Dwarf… I have news to give you will not like,” he said.

“You have already said much I do not like, but my like and dislikes are inconsequential to this discussion,” Kazrack replied. 

“There was a great battle,” Scartesh continued.  “The dwarves of the place you called Adoth-Rech, the renovated fortress? (6) It was impossible to parley with them, and they insisted on throwing their lives away in trying to stop our progress here to Greenreed Valley.  Some of them escaped, and I imagine they will be bringing the news to their kind any day now, but we also have some prisoners…” 

“What would you have of me…?” Kazrack asked, maintaining his temper.

Gunthar looked at Kazrack with amazement.  “He just said he killed a whole bunch of stunties! You don’t even care?” (7)

Kazrack did not respond.

Scartesh eyed Gunthar, and Dumashg cracked his knuckles.  The black orc continued to look down, shifting from foot to foot and occasionally letting out a little growly sighs.

“I wish for you to bring the prisoners back to Abarrane-Abaruch as a sign of good faith, and bring the leaders there my offer, so they might share it in turn with the Nauglimir Merchant Consortium, so that all the dwarves of Derome-Delem might know I plan to deal fairly with them,” Scartesh explained to Kazrack.  “And the offer is thus, if the dwarves do not interfere with the founding of our empire from here all the way east to Ettinos, and up to the northern shore (8), we shall use our resources to destroy the undead forces of Dralmohir which fall in those lands, and allow the dwarves to take back any of their ancient treasures still there and found a temple or other monument to the fallen kingdom that once stood there…”

Kazrack mulled over the words.

“Do you have a scribe, or can you write this offer in your own hand?” Scartesh asked. “I do not want it forgotten or misremembered…”

“I will bring your offer,” was all Kazrack said, and in a quieter voice than normal.

“Ratchis of the Darksh…” Scartesh turned to his more monstrous fellow half-orc.  “I need good lieutenants.  I need men of vision who can help bring our people out of the superstition, destructive rituals, and savagery that passes for our culture.  The Darksh have ever been a strong tribe; a strong-_willed_ tribe, but their leadership is weak.  I want you to kill their leader and _be_ their leader, and make a difference for your people.  I know you value freedom, but answer me this: Can a people ever truly be free if they are made to scurry along the fringes of the civilized worlds like rats?  You can help them not only be truly free, but teach them how to use their freedom productively…”

Ratchis scratched his chin and narrowed his eyes.  “What will the laws of this empire of yours be like?” he asked.

“They will be much like the laws of many lands in Aquerra,” Scartesh shrugged. “Those details will be dealt with when the time comes, until then there will be wars to fight and people to bring into our fold…”

“During times of peace, will slavery be allowed?” Ratchis asked, not letting go of the subject.

“There will be no slavery,” Scartesh did not pause. “Too long have our people been enslaved by others and by each other.”

“I am not sure how my own plans will intertwine with yours…” Ratchis began.

“Oh, he’ll do it!” Gunthar answered for him with a laugh.

Ratchis scowled, but nodded. “If it means a greater peace and a chance to change the fate of my people who have lived their awful lives through no fault of their own, then I shall seek them out…”

“But not today!  Today we have urgent business to discuss after the requisite celebration, that is,” Roland said, raising a glass.

“Are you saying you’d like to make a toast?” Scartesh asked, pouring himself another mugful of ale.  He did not offer any to his own companions.

“A toast to Hurgun a wonderful host,” Roland said, and everyone raised their glasses.

“And to the future,” added Scartesh.  “May we work together for a new and better world.”

After another round, Scartesh bid them adieu.  “I shall come in the morning to bring Ratchis into our camp and retrieve the prisoners… Until then…”  

“Wait!” Gunthar held up a hand and stood. “I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“Well, you are allied with the dragon right?” Gunthar asked.

Scartesh nodded.

“So, wouldn’t it be a dragon empire then, and not an orc one?” Gunthar asked.

“Dragons care little for the day to day running of an empire,” Scartesh replied.  “She will act as the divine right of our kind, choosing the heir to the empire and legitimizing him by her choice…  As Ratchis knows, many of our kind are in awe of dragons.  Without her involvement, I would not have been able to bind together as many tribes as I have.”

“Well, it seems not all orcs are bestial,” Kazrack said, looking Scartesh in the eye.  “I should know that lesson better because of my friend, D’nar, but still… You have made a good impression on me, Scartesh, and if it comes to conflict, I will show you honor on the battlefield.”

Scartesh nodded, and then turned as a monodrone made to show him and his companions from the Dining Room.

Ratchis suddenly barked out in the orcish tongue to Scartesh, slamming his chest once with a fist. Scartesh nodded, gave a slight smile and left. (9)

The Keepers of the Gate immediately fell to debating Scartesh’s offers. 

“Do you think what he can do what he claims; establish an orcish empire?” Kazrack asked.

“If he is allied with the dragon and he has the kinds of forces we got a glimpse of, then yes,” replied Ratchis.  “I just do not know how sustainable it would be.”

“But the dragon isn’t really a dragon, right?” Bastian asked.  “I mean, it is fuzzy, but I seem to recall it melted into a puddle of snow…”

“We do not know when in the future we were,” Ratchis said. “ That might have just been a guardian of the real dragon…”

“Kazrack, do you think the dwarves will agree to this offer?” Roland asked.

“It is doubtful,” the dwarf said.  “Dwarves will not bend the knee to a dragon or an orc.”

“There are too many forces to oppose,” Ratchis said. “We have to have faith that a peaceful transition can happen…”

“Heh. I think Scartesh is posturing,” Roland said.  “I think what he said about needing the dragon reveals how precarious his grasp on all the orc tribes really is… And I can’t help but keep thinking of the message I received from my goddess when we were in Topaline.  The smothering of security? The peril of freedom?  These are the choices the sphinx was talking about!” (10)

“Perhaps,” Ratchis replied. “And I have not forgotten the alliance of our two goddesses, but this is an opportunity to help my people that I never thought I would get, and I have to take it.  Anyway, if Scartesh does plan to rule a savage and enslaving nation, then I want to be keep close to him in case he needs be killed.”  Ratchis grew grim.  “The human kingdoms have no chance against those orc forces, and while the united might of the dwarves may be able to, the humans would be wiped out  no matter who they ally themselves with. At least this way, we can buy the Gothanians some time, as well…”

“But the sphinx’s riddle must be kept mind,” Roland said.

“That’s not a riddle, that’s bullsh*t,” Gunthar said.  Kazrack nodded.

“Law and Chaos are spokes in the cosmic wheel as well, do not forget,” Roland said.  “There are subtleties at work here.”

“Uh-huh, so when we going to go kill the dragon?” Gunthar asked, changing the subjects and looking from face to face.

“SUBTLETIES!” Roland yelled over the Neergaardian.  “We need to consider well what we do here.  We need to gather information!”

“Look, my short term goal is to prevent the suffering of all those innocents whose lives will be affected by this,” Ratchis said.  “If that means allowing the creation of an orcish nation…  I think it could be a good thing.”

“Well,” Roland took another sip of wine and stood to pour more. “_My_ short term goal is to gain wealth, prestige and power.  All in the name of good, of course, but I still want it, and I think paying the King of Gothanius a visit might be the first step in that.”

“My short term goal is to have another drink, and then bring my brother back, so we can have another drink,” Gunthar slurred. “And _then_ go kill the dragon, marry some princesses and get to fighting orcs and taking booty and doing whatever lordly warriors do!”

“And I will travel to Abarrane-Abaruch and deliver Scartesh’s message as I have pledged to do,” Kazrack said.  “The lives of those prisoners are now in my hands, and I must bring them safely back to their people.  Also, I must deliver the stone with spirit of the dwarven king to the high priests there. Perhaps while I am there I might also find some weapon to help us against the dragon.”

“We already got a weapon!” Gunthar yelled.  “The Can-On!”

“What about you Bastian?  What do you plan to do?” Roland asked the ever-silent Gothanian.

“I will do what I told Scartesh I would do,” Bastian said, in his murmur of a voice.  “If there can be peace, I want it.  But if there is to war, well… This is my country and while I left when they began an unjust war, I will fight to defend it when they are warred upon unjustly.”

“Well, said,” Roland replied.

The feast wound down, and Hurgun of the Stone never made another appearance.  A monodrone led the Keepers of the Gate back to the Air Room. Bellies bursting and moody from wine, they gladly slipped back into a rejuvenating sleep.

--------------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1) This session was played on Sunday, January 15th, 2006.

(2) See Session #74

(3) See the Story of Ratchis

(4) General Bloodboar Awzturk was said to have been the near-immortal off-spring of Ashronk the Boar God, Patron of Orcs.  He began the First Humano-Orc War back in 197 H.E., and it lasted for 23 years.

(5) The Keepers of the Gate, before they were even known as ‘The Fearless Manticore Killers’ spent nearly a month with the monstrous druids of the Circle of the Thorn. (See Sessions #30 to #33)

(6) Kazrack spent a night in Adoth-Rech back in Session #75

(7) *DM’s Note:* Gunthar was still being played by Martin’s character. 

(8) You can reference Martin’s map of Derome-Delem, here to get a sense of how much land he is talking about.

(9) Here Ratchis yelled in orcish custom “_I am Ratchis, son of Darksh! Can you not see that I am not afraid of you?_”

(10) See Session #87


----------



## Gold Roger

Ok, that was unexpected. Well done.


----------



## Manzanita

This seems more like a beginning than an end.  I assume all this stuff plays into the next aquerra campaign.  Pretty cool stuff, in any case.  Well done El-remmen.


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> This seems more like a beginning than an end. .




Every beginning is just some other beginning's end. . .   




			
				Manzanita said:
			
		

> I assume all this stuff plays into the next aquerra campaign.




No, not really.  The next Aquerra campaign will not take place anywhere near the Little Kingdoms - though that doesn't mean the PCs in the other game might not end up passing through there. . . But it doesn't mean they will either . . .




			
				Manzanita said:
			
		

> Pretty cool stuff, in any case.  Well done El-remmen.




Thanks.


----------



## el-remmen

Oof!

Writing the end of this thing is like writing the end of Return of the King, or something. 

Every time I  think I am near done I remember one last thing, and one last scene, and . . . oh, yeah so-and-so said. . .

At this point I am glad I broke it up into two installments, but this rate it might become *three*!  But probably not. . .


----------



## handforged

Well, I certainly wasn't expecting that.  I wonder what Scartesh would have asked of Roland if Martin hadn't been around?  Perhaps to go to Nikar?  That would have been interesting.  I have to say that I like the idea of the campaign ending with the characters getting ready to go on with their lives.

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

handforged said:
			
		

> I wonder what Scartesh would have asked of Roland if Martin hadn't been around?
> ~hf




  Uh, you mean if he _had_ been around, right?


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #103 (part 2 of 2)*

Teflem, the 6th of Ese – 565 H.E.

Ratchis was awakened by a duodrone.  It buzzed its wings and its rectangular body bobbed up and down as it led the Friar of Nephthys to the chamber with the stone golem statues of Hurgun.  In a room behind the a door the party had simply run past, Ratchis found Gunthar in a sitting room, with a brown hunting horn of bone and wood in his hands. 

The room was decorated in lacquered wood panels that traced the perimeter of the bare stone walls.  There was a large hearth of stone that seemed to have been molded by hand in the far wall. A gold statue of a ram upon a mountain, and another of a horn of plenty, where the stone fruits were colored by being encrusted with tiny jewels, flanked it.  There was a plush carpet and stuffed chairs. 

 Lying on a divan was the motionless form of Martin the Green.  He looked worn and skinny, like he had since his experience with _Lacan’s Demise_, but the rot of his face was gone.  His skin was its normal pallor.  Martin had his hands clasped to his chest, and Ratchis gasped as he noticed that the watch-mage was breathing.

“What is this?  What is happening?” he asked Gunthar.

“We all got what we wanted,” Gunthar smiled.  

Hurgun of the Stone entered the room by means of the solid stone wall on the right.

“Ah, Ratchis… I see you have arrived and have seen your friend alive again.  I explained to Gunthar that upon doing more research I realized it might not be a good idea to bring his brother back in the manner I had intended,” Hurgun said.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, he said something about a debt and being bound to serve Anubis and the good, since the price of his coming back last time was never paid in full,” Gunthar continued to smile broadly, and raised the horn.  “Now I just blow on this and Jeremy shows up all bathed in the celestial light and ready to drink or fight or do whatever. (1) And this way he can pay back his debt and eventually have his soul at rest.  I summoned him before and we talked about it.  He’s still not happy that I’m his brother, but I think he’ll get used to it. I mean, to know me is to love me, right Snuffles?”

Ratchis’ grunt was non-committal.

“And that left the boon free to be used to bring back your friend as you and the rest of your companions desired,” Hurgun added, and gestured to Martin.  “I asked Gunthar who would be best to wake him, and he said you.”

“I doubt I am the first face he would like to see,” Ratchis replied.  “But I guess no once else would be any better of a choice.”

“Before you do wake him, I also wanted to give you two more gifts,” Hurgun said.  He walked over to a chest at the end of the divan and pulled out a spear.  He handed it to Ratchis.  The spear’s shaft was an ashen color, and the spearhead was made of a reddish-black metal. There was an inset cut out in the lower portion of the spear head that had a single eye with a flame-shaped pupil in it.  Golden hairs were tied tightly about the top of the shaft to hold the blade in place.

It was the _Spear of the Boarblood_, and Hurgun explained its origins and powers. (2)

“Elfbane?” Ratchis asked, wincing.  “That means drow, too?”

“Yes,” Hurgun replied.

“Oh, that’s okay then… Thank you very much,” Ratchis shrugged. “I am most grateful.”

“I wanted to replace what you had to give back up to Chochokpi,” Hurgun said.  “It might not be as prestigious an item, but I hoped its origins, and the fact that a spear is the weapon of your goddess would please you.”

Ratchis nodded.  Hurgun of the Stone also handed him a bright green emerald the size of a large walnut “And this is just a thanks…”

Ratchis gently touched a calloused finger to Martin’s forehead. The watch-mage’s eyes fluttered open.

“Ratchis! Thank you for bringing me back,” was the first thing he said, as he slowly sat up.

“Actually, you have Gunthar to thank,” Ratchis smiled.  He went on to explain about Jeremy.  Gunthar and Martin shook hands and the Neergaardian slapped him on the shoulder.

“You’ll be back to being doughy in no time,” Gunthar winked.

There was a happy chittering and Thomas leaped up from where he had dropped onto the divan.  Martin scratched his familiar’s head lovingly, and brought the squirrel right up to his face to let the little rodent sniff him.

“Is it just me, or…” Martin suddenly looked up at Ratchis.  “Did we fight a dragon?”

Ratchis nodded, and did his best to explain. 

“And where is Richard?”

“Lost in the planes,” Hurgun said, stepping forward. Martin greeted Hurgun with a deep bow.  A few moments later, a monodrone showed Kazrack into the sitting room.

The dwarf nearly broke Martin’s back he embraced his companion so hard. Martin looked away embarrassed, and Ratchis laughed in a way neither of them had ever heard before.

Kazrack was given a magical halberd named _Higador_, (3) and a brown diamond, smaller than Ratchis’ stone, but of near equal value.

“Ooh gifts! I love do so love gifts!” Roland squealed after he had finished cooing over a resurrected Martin.  The Bastite had left Bastian sleeping in the cloud room they shared the night before  when a monodrone was sent for him, but the Gothanian was called soon after. Hurgun gave Roland the _Collar of Fangs_ (4), and a jacinth, and Bastian some tall leather footwear, called _Bucknard’s Boots_. (5) They were given valuable gems as well.

Martin was given one of Hurgun’s Tokens, a large ruby and a fine dark blue robe that changed to has swirls of green in varying shades surrounding peacock feather-like patterns.  Hurgun called it _Issek's Robe of Eyes_ (6)  He also was given back the _Ring of Marked Excellence_, which Hurgun said he had taken from the body of Ming the Dakkon-King. (7)

Hurgun of the Stone led the Keepers of the Gate back to the Dining Room, and they found Cordel, Norena and Razzle waiting for them.  They stood and greeted Martin warmly.

“I am sorry that we were at odds,” Martin said to Cordell.

“It is the past and cannot be unwritten,” Cordell of Thoth said.  “It does my heart good to see you among the living.”

Everyone sat down to the delicious breakfast spread laid out on the table.

“You know, Ratchis,” Razzle Greyish said, back to his talkative self.  “You should come visit Ettinos.  It  where I call home, even though I am hardly there… It s a half-orc colony, but lovely people.  I think you’d really enjoy it.”

“Hurgun? How many days have passed since we entered the Maze?” Martin asked.

“Five days.” 

They all chatted breezily, except for Bastian who was as quiet as usual, and Ratchis who seemed to get clautrophobic when too many people talked at once.  Gunthar and Norena fell to flirting shamelessly.  Roland complained of boredom.

When breakfast ended, Scartesh was shown in again, and this time only the ogre, Dumasg was with him.  Martin the Green was introduced, and Scartesh seemed impressed with Hurgun’s ability to return him to life.  The watch-mage agree to carry the half-orc’s message, but added, “However, I will not be an advocate to plead your case.  I will merely explain to the king the pros and cons of your offer as I seem them.”

“Fair enough,” Scartesh replied.  He turned to Ratchis.  “Are you ready?”

Ratchis, Scartesh and Dumasg were led to the Entrance  Room and up into the Earth Tower and back down through the silent courtyard and out the gate that Ratchis had only seen from above when first coming here. (8)  The orcs had pulled out of the courtyard, and he could tell right away that the army here was making ready to move.  Sacks were being stuffed, tents taken down, and gear packed high on the backs of the mammoths that bellowed in protest.  He even saw half a dozen of the dwarven riding lizards that must have been captured in the battle with the forces of Adoth-Rech.  Orcs began to line up as Scartesh walked past, hollering gutteral encouragment to him, while some took the opportunity to curse or challenge Ratchis.

The Friar of Nephthys looked to Scartesh, who shrugged, and then he began to walk resolutely towards a large orc who had spat in their direction.  The other orcs scattered as Ratchis approached.  In a few moments, he had the spitting orc pinned to the ground, arm nearly broken behind its back.

“It is within your right to kill him,” Scartesh said in orcish.

Ratchis jerked the arm hard one last time and let go.  “I will not.  I prefer he simply know that I could, but did not…”

“Some will take your mercy for weakness,” Scartesh said as they continued walking through the camp.

“Then let them come and test my weakness then,” Ratchis replied.  “For the others, I hope they can appreciate and learn the quality of mercy from my actions…”

Scartesh nodded.  “You will make a good leader for your people.  I could have brought the prisoners to the fortress, but I wanted an opportunity to see you among our people.  You will do well, but it will still be very difficult.”

“When has life not be difficult for orcs?” Ratchis said.  Scartesh just nodded in agreement.

The dwarven prisoners were chained together in a ditch.  There were buckets of slop and excrement, but at least the orcs had kept those buckets separate.

“Traitor!” one of the dwarves suddenly yelled at Ratchis as he appeared with Scartesh at the edge of the ditch.  It was a young dwarf with his fine golden beard now as ragged as the remains of stripped armor on his shoulders.  Another dwarf that looked exactly like him stood as well. Ratchis recognized them as Golnar and Tolnar.  There were nearly a score other dwarves there as well.  “I knew he could never be trusted!”

“Foul blood of a bastard race!” Golnar spat.  “Where is good Master Delver?”

“I have come to bring you and your kin to him,” Ratchis replied with more pity than scorn.  “But I have no desire to rob you of your freedom.  If you are to come with me, then come of your own accord.” The half-orc called out his goddess’ _word of freedom_, and the chains and manacles dropped off the dwarves.

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

Meanwhile, the rest of the Keepers of the Gate accompanied Hurgun of the Stone to the top of the Earth Tower to await Ratchis’ return.  They looked out on the great host of orcs begin to march away and wondered where among their number their companion might be.  Bastian did his best to estimate how many orcs he saw. It was clearly more than six hundred.

Suddenly there arose a great clamor among the orcs.  The Keepers of the Gate and their companions turned to look at where the orcs were marching out of the gap into Greenreed Valley and noticed a silohette snaking over the ground and looked up to see what it was.  

There was a great green and black draconic form swooping over the orcs and headed towards the fortress.  Many of the orcs began to break ranks and scatter, but others cowered in fear or awe, covering their eyes, while still others stood in stoic attention.

“Ah, good,” Hurgun of the Stone said.  “Now no one do anything to provoke her, there is something I still need to find out about this dragon… Something I suspect from what you told me of your battle with her in the future…”

“At least something interesting is finally happening,” Roland said, as he had been complaining of boredom all morning.

Glamorgana swooped over the courtyard and landed atop the nearby Fire Tower. (9)  Her claws clattered against the stone as she clung to the side and stretched out her neck towards the Earth Tower.

“Hurgun of the Stone,” She hissed.  Her voice snaked up and down their bodies in that unnerving way, reverberating against the fuzzy memory of their battle with her, until it seemed a little clearer. “The agreement is fulfilled.  Our worshipers are withdrawing, but now they are ours to command as we like.”

“Yes,” Hurgun replied, not raising his voice despite the gulf between the towers and the moaning of the late  autumn wind. “But now you must depart…”

Glamorgana snarled and snapped her wings, pulling her great body in the air.  She flew close over the Earth Tower, and the Keepers of the Gate ducked reflexivly, but she banked and flew out over the orcs again.  The orcs cried out in fear and adoration.

“It is as I suspected,” Hurgun said, when the dragon was out of sight. “That is not Glamorgana. The thing only believes itself to be…”

“What is she then?” Kazrack asked.

“She is a _simulacrum_, made when Glamorgana was younger, and believes herself to be the dragon at that time when she had arrogance and little wisdom,”  Hurgun explained.  “As dragons get as old as Glamorgana should be now they withdraw from the world, and grow to have a more balanced view. The petty desires to rule over mortals is a game of adolescene and young adulthood for her kind…”

“So if that is the dragon Scartesh believes to be Glamorgana…” Roland began.

“Then if she is slain, the orc hordes  will likely fall apart…” Hurgun finished for him.

“And that is a thing we know can be done,” Martin the Green said.  “For we have done it once already…”

“Ratchis seems to feel that the establishment of the orcish empire is inevitable,” Kazrack said. “As is the suffering of the people of the Little Kingdoms…”

“But now it no longer seems inevitable,” Martin replied.

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

Ratchis of Nephthys led the dwarves back out of the orc camp.  The orcs hooted and hollered angrily, but Dumashg escorted them back and there were no attempts to stop them.  Everything and everyone stopped when the dragon swooped by overhead.  Ratchis cursed and continued, hurrying the awed dwarves along. In fortress courtyard, tridrones were scrubing the courtward with pushbrooms while others drew water from the well.

Hurgun and the others came out into the courtyard.

“Master Delver!” Golnar greeted happily. His face brightened and for a moment he looked more like the dwarf Kazrack had seen only a few weeks before.  Kazrack clasped hands with each of the dwarves and introduced himself.

Tolnar looked at Ratchis with confusion and remorse, but Ratchis said nothing.

“Your brother, Jolnar?” Kazrack asked.

“He fell running to aid Captain Adalar who was still fighting despite having a leg crushed by one of the behemoths,” Tolnar replied. He looked down.  “The captain was crushed under the beast.”

“They fell as any good dwarf should,” Kazrack said to them, gently.  “They all did.  And though I feel sorry for your loss, I say to you: Do not trouble your hearts with sorrow, but look forward to when you may remember your brothers as you slay the enemies of our people.”  His voice grew louder, and all the dwarves stood up straighter as Kazrack paced up and down before them.  “I shall lead you back to Abarrane-Abaruch and bring the news of what has happened here, but I also bring with me good news, though I cannot speak of it now. (10) And we shall raise an army to bring glory back to the dwarven people!”

“We are at your service,” Tolnar said. “But we have no arms for the dangerous journey back.”

“You may gather what you need from the fortress armory, though there will be little in the way of armor that will fit dwarves,” Hurgun said. “And now, I must say farewell, and bid you luck in your endeavors.  There is much I need to do before I dissemble the Maze…  Again, I thank you for your aid, and one day perhaps our paths will cross again.”

“Um, Master Hurgun?” Martin the Green walked over to him meekly. “I was wondering if perhaps we might arrange some training for me, as…”

“I must refuse,” Hurgun replied.

“Okay, well… Is there some message I can bring to the Academy of Wizardy from you?” Martin asked.  “I plan to return there soon after I go talk with the King of Gothanius…”

“The Academy does not concern me,” Hurgun said. “But the king of Gothanius does… By the time you arrive I will have already have gone and paid him a visit  and explain some of what has happened.”

“Oh really?” Roland perked up.  “Can we get a ride with you? A quick _teleport_ to Twelve Trolls?” (11)

“Again, I must refuse,” Hurgun said.

Roland of Bast frowned and nodded.

Martin and Bastian explained to Ratchis what Hurgun had said about the dragon.

“Then it is as important as ever to destroy the dragon,” Ratchis replied. “But not before I take this chance to return to my tribe and sow a seed of goodness in them if I can.”

“We don’t even know where the lair is,” Martin said.  “I can use the time to research while I am back at the  Academy…I think we all have our own avenues to persue…”

“And as I said before,” Roland interjected, as Hurgun had left. “We need to gather information.  I shall stay here in Gothanius and see what I can find out, and I think I will be seeing if I can collect donations to refurbish and reconsecrate the temple of Bast.”

Kazrack went to Gunthar. “Gunthar, I was hoping you might accompany me and my brethren to Abarrane-Abarruch. Many of them are but new recruits and some are injured from their battle.  It will be good to have another sword-arm with us.”  The dwarf sounded pained to have to ask.

“Are all other dwarves like you?” Gunthar asked.

“Yes,” Kazrack did not hesitate.

“Then no, thank you,” Gunthar said, perhaps the first time he had ever been polite.  He walked over to join the conversation the others were having with Ratchis.  Kazrack joined them as well.

“I can go with you part of the way,” Bastian offered the dwarf. “Archet is close. It won’t matter if I go a few days out of my way.”

“I thank you,” Kazrack replied.

The Keepers of the Gate agreed to travel to Summit where they might gain some information about what had been going on in their absence, and to collect the gear and provisions Kazrack and his new dwarven entourage would need.  

They arrived at the outskirts of the town at nightfall.

“Halt! Who goes there?!” cried a familiar voice out of the darkness.  It was Finn Fisher and Carlos Diamante leading a squad of local militia men.

There were cheerful greetings, and Finn and Carlos and the others escorted them into town sharing stories of what had happened in the last few weeks.

“I have to warn you, Sir Clerebold is in town,” Finn Fisher said. (12)  “He lost face with the king when he returned without you, but he and his men decided to stay and help against the orcs when we thought they would be attacking beyond the valley.”

“An honorable man, if misguided,” Martin the Green replied. “But it does not matter if he wants to return me to the king now, as I plan to go there regardless.”

As the others went to the Sun’s Summit Inn, Martin the Green went to see Alderman Henry Horton.  Sir Clerebold was meeting with him.

“I shall save the accusations for the King,” the Alderman said coldly.  “But I will say that I and the people of Summit are disappointed in you…”

“There was more going on than was ever made clear to you or your people, and for that I apologize,” Martin replied. “But at the time it seemed the best to limit who knew what… In retrospect that may have been a mistake…”

“So I take it the great task you had when we last met has been completed?” Sir Clerebold asked.

“Yes, and I am prepared to meet the king and face his judgment,” Martin said.  “The orcs are withdrawing… At least for now… We have time…”

“I shall escort you there on the morrow,” Sir Clerebold said.  “And your companions?”

“Roland of Bast shall accompany me, but the others have other tasks still before them,” Martin replied.

“A priest of Bast?” Alderman Horton asked.  “Is he here because of the old temple?”

“No, but now that he knows of it, he plans to refurbish and re-consecrate it,” Martin replied.

”Have him return to me when you are done with the king,” the Alderman said.  “There will be much re-building needed, and a nearby temple will help to cement the stability and prestige of the area…”


Anulem, the 7th of Ese – 565 H.E. (Remembrance Day)  (13)

The next morning, after a cold breakfast, the Keepers of the Gate gathered to give a prayer for _Remembrance Day_ at Roland’s request. When the others were reminded what day it was, they all agreed, even Kazrack, despite it being a day in honor of a human god – as there were many who had fallen in battle he wished to remember in his prayers.

By midday there was no sign of orcs in Greenreed Valley, every banner and standard and mammoth had disappeared over the western horizon.  Ratchis informed the others that he would be leaving immediately in order to catch up with them and find the Darksh.

“Ratchis, I wanted you to know that I have the utmost respect for what you are trying to do,” Roland said to him, quietly. “And I respect Scartesh as well, but… You need to ask yourself if you think he can be trusted to make the best decision for everyone and not just for himself and his orcs.  Remember, you said you wanted to limit everyone’s suffering, don’t forget that.”

Ratchis nodded. The half-orc shook hands and clasped the shoulders of his companions.

“We meet back at the temple of Bast in two months time, right?” he asked with his frightening smile.  The others agreed.  “I will be stopping at Aze Nuquerna on the way. I want to tell Ethiel what we have learned and see if he has any helpful news…” And he was off.

Bastian wanted to spend more of the day in quiet reflection of fallen comrades, so Kazrack and the dwarves spent their team collecting what food and clothes they could with the help of Finn and Carlos, and the town’s contable/smith, Maxel helped them with some spare spears, shields and helms.  It was late afternoon when they said their good-byes to the others, heading west across Greenreed Valley and then northwest to Abarrane-Abaruch.  It would take a fortnight to get there.

Martin the Green, Roland of Bast and Gunthar Northrop made their way east across the great Gothanian valley towards Twelve Trolls, escorted by Sir Clerebold and nine of his soldiers.  A light snow began to fall as they stopped in the Alder-village of Three Trees and Martin was reminded of the party’s last journey in this direction, when they had been arrested in connection with Jana’s escape from Ogre Bluff’s gaol. (14)


Ralem, the 8th of Ese – 565 H.E. 

It was just past midday when Martin, Roland and Gunthar finally gained entrance to Castle Gothanius.  The snow had begun to fall harder mid morning, and they could barely make out the citadel towers as the made their way across the narrow stone path that bridge the great chasm all around the outer walls.

They were made to wait nearly an hour in the gatehouse with Sir Clerebold, and then finally were shown into the entrance hall.  Sir Clerebold was taken away first and a few minutes later a brown-haired young man with a kind round freckled face and a Herman-lander’s complexion came out to talk with them.  It was Daniel, the castle steward.

“Martin the Green!  I had feared something had happened to you while out in the wilderness,” the steward said, shaking his hand.  The young man’s palms were sweaty.   Martin introduced Roland and Gunthar.

“I will bring you in to speak with his highness in a few moments.  He wants to speak with Sir Clerebold first.  I assume you are prepared to explain your whereabouts and your lack of communication since your last visit, and generally since arriving in Gothanius?”

“I shall endeavor to try,” Martin replied.  “And to that goal I have brought Roland of Bast with me so he might corroborate my story.”

“Well, he intends to question you closely, so I hope your wits are sharp today,” Daniel said.

“I assume this ‘questioning’ will be more like yelling?” Martin asked.

“Perhaps… He sent many letters of complaint about you to the Academy, about one a month since last Nueit.”

“That’s fine,” Martin said. “I intend on returning to the Academy for a few weeks when I am done here. I am sure I will have to answer for those letters as well.”

A page came over and whispered in Daniel’s ear.  The steward turned to the three Keepers of the Gate.  “Okay, the king is ready for you… Remember your manners and etiquette in the presence of royalty…”

“Martin the Green…” The king allowed the watch-mage’s name to roll off his tongue with contempt after Martin and his companions were announced.  The king wore a long burgundy robe of velvet and silk slippers.  Middle-aged, he had a thick, but well kempt brown beard and green eyes.  He sat on an ornate throne.  Martin, Roland and Gunthar stood when told they could.

“Two days ago we would have had you thrown in the dungeon or perhaps immediately exiled, Martin the Green,” the king continued.  “But luckily for you Hurgun of the Stone stepped out of legend, appeared in my court and vouched for you and the rest of your _Keepers of the Gate_…”

There was a long pause, but Martin knew to say nothing until he was directly asked a question.

“However, that does not mean we are not still angry,” the King snarled.  “It does not mean we do not think you did a poor job in your duty to keep me apprised of dangers to my realm!”

Another pause.

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

Martin the Green did his best to explain all he could about Mozek, the Garvan gnomes and Hurgun’s Maze.

“And now orcs…” The king said.

“Yes, and speaking of orcs…” Martin the Green explained about Scartesh and his plans for empire, and his offer to his majesty. Roland interjected describing the number of forces and immediately expounding upon various options the king might have.  

“Ah, honored priest of the cat goddess,” the King said.  “You do this nation honor by coming here and seeing to its spiritual needs…”

”Yes, and with your leave, your majesty, I hope to repair and re-consecrate the temple of Bast outside of Summit, that I might have a base to work from to guide and protect the people of Gothanius…”

“And help develop a culture that honors the gods…” (15) the King added, obviously eager and happy to have the priest there.  Soon Martin was hardly a part of the conversation.  He noticed Gunthar shifting from foot to foot, bored out of his mind.

The meeting ended with Roland being invited to be the King’s guest in the castle for the rest of the winter.  Martin explained that he would be heading back to the Academy of Wizardry immediately.

“Very well,” King Brevelan replied. “And tell your Academy they owe us a new watch-mage, a _communicative_ one, if not one more competent.  Your aid is no longer required here.  We relieve you of any duties.”

As they left back into the entrance hall Martin said, “Gunthar, will you accompany me to Bountiful? From there I should be able to arrange transport to the Academy with Alexandra the Lavender.”

Gunthar agreed. “But no bleedin’ further than Bountiful!”

“And what will you do with the rest of your time?” Roland asked the Neergaardian.

“Eat, drink and whore, of course!” Gunthar smiled broadly.  “Now that I can take a break from saving your sorry asses for a couple of months, I’m gonna take a well-deserved rest!”

“Ah Gunthar, if someone had told me I’d actually find your vileness and comic arrogance endearing I would have thought them crazy,” Roland laughed.

“Keep it in your pants, buddy,” Gunthar shoved the Bastite and winked. “We ain’t at sea…” He walked off.

Martin the Green and Roland of Bast shook hands, embraced, and then shook hands again. “Be wary of the king,” Martin whispered.  “We know he is no demonblood (16), but that does not mean he cannot be petty and vindictive and eager to save face no matter the cost.”

Roland nodded, finding it hard to keep a serious countenance.  “Don’t worry I’ll have him wrapped around my finger in no time… And I plan to go meet all the Aldermen, as well…  Are you sure you need to head out immediately?  Why not leave tomorrow?”

“Heh… No, I do not want to test the king’s hospitality,” Martin replied.  “We can reach North Fork Wall by nightfall, there is good inn there if I recall correctly.” 

“Very well then…” Roland of Bast looked at Martin the Green for a long moment.  They shook hands then embraced. “Two months…”

“Two months…” Martin nodded and agreed.

“But I shall probably be using _sendings_ to keep abreast of how it goes with each of us,” Roland added.

“Good idea,” Martin replied.

“Farewell, and may Great Queen Bast watch over your long journey…” Roland walked Martin out to the castle gate where Gunthar waited for them, and waved as the watch-mage and Neergaardian marched southward into the town proper, towards the long road south beyond that, and out of sight.

*End of Session#103*

*End of Book IV: Into the Fire*

*And so ends of the “Out of the Frying Pan Campaign”*


----------



## el-remmen

--------------------------------------------------
*Notes:*

(1)	For more information on the _Horn of Heroes_, go here.

(2)	For more on the _Spear of the Boarblood_, go here.

(3)	For more on the _Higador_, go here.

(4)	For more on the _Collar of Fangs_, go here.

(5)	For more on the _Bucknard’s Boots_, go here.

(6) For more on the _Issek's Robe of Eyes_, go here.


(7)	Martin gave the Dakkon-King the ring back in Session #92.  For more about the _Ring of Marked Excellence_, go here.  

(8)	See Session #89

(9)	The outer fortress of Hurgun’s Maze on Aquerra had four great towers, each topped with a statue representing one of the four elements.

(10)	Kazrack is of course speaking of the spirit of the heir to the dwarven throne in the sapphire.

(11)	Twelve Trolls is the capital of Gothanius, named for the Battle of 12 Trolls.

(12)	Sir Clerebold Haganricht is the leader of the Company of the Impervious Ward, which the Keepers of the Gate first met in Session #79.  They last saw Sir Clerebold when he was keeping to his word regarding his group’s conditions of surrender to the party in Session #87.

(13)	You can read more about Remembrance Day, here.  It was one year ago on this day that the party that would become known as the Fearless Manticore Killers, and later the Keepers of the Gate had their first battle against goblins.

(14)	See Sessions #28 and #29

(15)	Bast is the patron goddess of most art, song and high culture.

(16)	The Keepers of the Gate found this out from the _Commune_ spell cast by Lydia the Holy while they were in Nikar.  See Session #71


----------



## el-remmen

MERRY CHRISTMAS FAITHFUL READERS!


----------



## el-remmen

Click Here to jump right to the last installment

*And so it ends…*

The “Out of the Frying Pan” Aquerra Campaign began in February of 2001.  It was the attempt to replay the beginning of the same exact campaign and premise with a different group of recruited players that just never panned out – and then go on from there.  And go on we did…

 This time I recruited from old friends who were now available to play, friends of friends, and from both the _Gamers Seeking Gamers_ forum here on the boards and the good old-fashioned sign in the local gaming store (though not quite “local” – the Compleat Strategist is in mid-town Manhattan, we play out in Brooklyn).

I began to write the story hour immediately after the first session, but it not only took me a while to find a pace and voice I was comfortable with in writing the thing, but I think the pacing and voice changed over the course of the five intervening years – whether it be the gruesome gore scenes of the zombie hordes in the Necropolis of Doom!!! Or, the long intricate debates the party often goes into whenever a course of action was not clear (which was often).

The campaign was just one month short of reaching five years of real time, and I just completed the story hour I began just about two months short of six years ago.

It took a lot of friggin’ effort, and there was a point where I went from just being a half-dozen sessions behind from the present, to being nearly 20 sessions behind (or more, have kind of forgotten).  There was once a gap of about three months where I did not write at all, and then a late night watching of Fellowship of the Ring had me cranking out installments at 3 o’clock in the morning.

Did I mention it took a lot of friggin’ effort?  Even now that I am done I am not sure how many pages the whole thing is.  I still have not combined all the installments of the last “book”, however, I do know that the first three books combined are over 1000 pages (that is nearly five and half _hundred thousand_ words!) 

But it was so worth it!  I (and my players) have a document of an awesome campaign - The longest I have ever run in Aquerra, and while it was being played the story hour actually helped create a better game – as I could use it as a means to remember old plot hooks and refer back to how I described things and had villains behave so there would be consistency.

Plus, it is hell of a whole lot of fun to go back and read portions of it.  Sometimes I would go back to look up some detail and catch myself re-reading whole sections!  And often the re-reading meant re-editing – which there was a lot of.  I was constantly re-tweaking older installments and keep a compiled word doc where I have slowly posted each edited and annotated  “book” as I got around to correcting them.  And as it is, those documents are still being tweaked all the time, as I go back and find even more things that need correcting – mostly just typos or awkward grammar – but that doesn’t mean I have never gone back to correct mistakes in timelines, or the revelation of information that had not actually been revealed yet, and the like…

Finally, it was worth it just because it was such a great exercise in writing, and there were days I literally forced myself to write just one sentence more in hopes of getting over writing inertia, and often that worked – but other times it would languish at one sentence (or, if I was prolific, a paragraph a day) – but heck, at least I was writing every day.

I want to thank everyone who played in the “Out of the Frying Pan” campaign for creating and playing such great characters to write about.  I want to give a special individual thanks to those players who kept a combat/occurrence log (Helene) and a quote log (EricM/Ciaran), and for those players who kept up with the former log, trading off to keep it going until someone else would volunteer to do it full-time – so eventually everyone did their part to help keep the records.

I also want to thank the early story hour writers who inspired me to start this thing (there were only like 3 or 4 ahead of me, but without them I would never have thought to start it).  In fact, I think I am the first of that crop to still be written at this date to actually “finish”.  

Finally, I want to thank all the people who have popped in and read this monster, whether it those who have been around since Day One (any of you still around?), those who popped in near the middle, went back and then caught up again, those of you who have only recently joined in, and those lurked the whole time and never commented once – though I want to thank everyone for their comments and questions as well.

There is still much work to be done.  I need to finish editing Book Three, and I need to compile and edit Book Four.  There are still two “reunion sessions” that were played six (and eight) months after the final session detailed here, that I may or may not write up.  I have not decided.  I really like the way this ends, and it might be best to keep it there. Not that the two reunion sessions were bad, they were a lot of fun, but just combat heavy and did not forward the plot so much, except by means of news the characters brought back with them from their individual trips.  We’ll see…

I am greatly looking forward to my next Aquerra campaign, and as of this writing, I am planning of writing a story hour for that game as well.  However, I will be starting grad school at the same time as that game is starting up, so we’ll see how much time I really have… But I really want to, as this next game is going to be more like typical Aquerra games than “Out of the Frying Pan” happened to be (more world-spanning), and will be taking place (at least at first) in one of my favorite places in Aquerra, the Magocracy of Thricia.

Thanks again to everyone… See ya in the funny papers!


----------



## Pyske

Thanks again for sharing the story hour with us all... I know that hundreds of hours went into writing it up, and I hope it's been a rewarding investment.  I'm sure your players have very much enjoyed re-living the campaign.

One of my favorite aspects of the story, and of your world, is that your heroes seem to move through the world, rather than stand astride it... while I love epic stories, your characters offer a refreshing change of pace in accomplishing great deeds (including freeing a god!) without coming to dominate the world and its residents.

Thanks again for all the effort of sharing this tale.

PS -- minor typo in the WIKI links:  bloodboar vs boarblood in the spear's name


----------



## el-remmen

Pyske said:
			
		

> PS -- minor typo in the WIKI links:  bloodboar vs boarblood in the spear's name




Fixed.


----------



## RedShirtNo5

As a lurker who has been around since Day One (I still remember reading the intro years ago and wishing I had thought of the hook), I want to echo Pyske and say thanks for sharing this story hour.  Having written up just a few sessions for a gaming log, I can imagine how much work it was.


----------



## Slife

el-remmen said:
			
		

> (2)	For more on the _Spear of the Boarblood_, go here.




Psst, the correct URL is 
ht*tp://a*querra.wikis*pa*ces.com/Magical+*I*tem+-+Spear+*o*f+the+Boarblood

You have a space in there where you shouldn't.

(funky formatting to make it copy and pasteable)


----------



## el-remmen

Slife said:
			
		

> Psst, the correct URL is
> ht*tp://a*querra.wikis*pa*ces.com/Magical+*I*tem+-+Spear+*o*f+the+Boarblood
> 
> You have a space in there where you shouldn't.




Thanks. 

I fixed the actual wiki page, but forgot to correct the link. . . 

Fixed, _for real _this time. . .


----------



## Ciaran

Great work as always.  I do hope you write up the reunion sessions, possibly as a separate thread (an "epilogue" or "coda" rather than as part of Book IV), but of course this shouldn't take precedence over working on the new campaign!  (Or grad school...   )

Oh, and you seem to have forgotten Hurgun's last gift to Martin.  You will add it in, right?


----------



## el-remmen

Ciaran said:
			
		

> Great work as always.  I do hope you write up the reunion sessions, possibly as a separate thread (an "epilogue" or "coda" rather than as part of Book IV), but of course this shouldn't take precedence over working on the new campaign!  (Or grad school...   )




Yeah, maybe. . . I feel like I already miss writing this thing!  But then again I am getting on a roll with finishing my detailing of Thricia for the next game and will be also working on the Black Islands Barony for another Aquerra campaign to be starting early next year to be run by a friend living up in New Paltz.



			
				Ciaran said:
			
		

> Oh, and you seem to have forgotten Hurgun's last gift to Martin.  You will add it in, right?




I found it and added it to the last installment.  So everyone go back and see what Martin's gift was. . .


----------



## jensun

Well, I finished reading the last section of this story hour yesterday so I just had to start the thing from the beginning to find out where the whole business started.

I have to give you props for some very good writing.  I was particualrly impressed that you turned what could easily have been a rather long and dull journey into the Little Kingdoms into an interesting series of adventures.  Also, lots of different plot arcs and twists and small personal side quests and issues really add to the mix.  It has been a very enjoyable read and I am still not finished (about to start part 2 of the second section).  

Having said that a couple of things have niggled me throughout.

1. Use of the egyptian pantheon?  Was there any particular reason you chose to go with them.  The setting doesnt seem to have much of an egyptian cultural theme to it and personally I found the use of the names a bit jarring and tended to break the mood somewhat. 

2. Is there any particular reason you decided to hit arcane casters so hard with the nerf bat and yet leave clerics mostly alone?

3. You have mentioned a few times that Aquerra is low magic and yet it still seems to have lots of arcane casters around.  I can definately see it as low magic item, but certainly not low magic.


----------



## Gold Roger

Very, very nice. Thanks for sharing all of this. I certainly learned a lot about DMing from reading your SH.


----------



## el-remmen

jensun said:
			
		

> Well, I finished reading the last section of this story hour yesterday so I just had to start the thing from the beginning to find out where the whole business started.
> 
> I have to give you props for some very good writing.  I was particualrly impressed that you turned what could easily have been a rather long and dull journey into the Little Kingdoms into an interesting series of adventures.  Also, lots of different plot arcs and twists and small personal side quests and issues really add to the mix.  It has been a very enjoyable read and I am still not finished (about to start part 2 of the second section).




Thanks a lot for reading the ending and going back and tackling it from the beginning, and I am glad you enjoyed it.



			
				jensun said:
			
		

> Having said that a couple of things have niggled me throughout.
> 
> 1. Use of the egyptian pantheon?  Was there any particular reason you chose to go with them.  The setting doesnt seem to have much of an egyptian cultural theme to it and personally I found the use of the names a bit jarring and tended to break the mood somewhat.




I chose the Egyptian pantheon way back in '89 when I was 17 and first started detailing Aquerra.  I think after years of people almost exclusively using Greek & Norse gods I just wanted something different - but I also knew that (at that time anyway) people were not excited about totally made-up pantheons - so I took the general form of Egyptian gods with their familiar names (and unfamiliar stories) and just used them as needed - using some Egyptian stuff for flavor, but not really caring if I got it "right".

Later, when I was detailing the pre-history of the setting (what they call 'The Time Before') I described something akin to a fantastical Nile delta/Egypt.

By now, we are all so used to it, no one blinks.



			
				jensun said:
			
		

> 2. Is there any particular reason you decided to hit arcane casters so hard with the nerf bat and yet leave clerics mostly alone?




I don't know that I left clerics "mostly alone" if anything - they are the most changed class in my set of house rules.  

However, all the priest classes have strong ethos that must be followed, essentially limiting how they can use their powers if they want to keep them.

Wizards have no such thing.



			
				jensun said:
			
		

> 3. You have mentioned a few times that Aquerra is low magic and yet it still seems to have lots of arcane casters around.  I can definately see it as low magic item, but certainly not low magic.




I think it is only "low" in comparison to the power creep common to the standard D&D magic guidelines.  I have always prefered the term "moderate" magic - but no one knows what the means when I used it.


----------



## Slife

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Yeah, maybe. . . I feel like I already miss writing this thing!  But then again I am getting on a roll with finishing my detailing of Thricia for the next game and will be also working on the Black Islands Barony for another Aquerra campaign to be starting early next year to be run by a friend living up in New Paltz.
> 
> 
> 
> I found it and added it to the last installment.  So everyone go back and see what Martin's gift was. . .




Do you see anything odd about this part of the wiki's description?


			
				[url=http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Magical+Item+-+Issek%27s+Robe+of+Eyes]http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Magical+Item+-+Issek%27s+Robe+of+Eyes[/url] said:
			
		

> Hurgun took this robe from the evil wizard when they battled for control of the Colossus of Abeode.
> 
> It is unknown how this came to be in the possession of Hurgun of the Stone, but he awarded it to Martin the Green for his part in rescusing the geomancer from the heart of his own Maze.


----------



## el-remmen

Slife said:
			
		

> Do you see anything odd about this part of the wiki's description?





You are catching all the mistakes lately! 

That's what I get for not reading my own description and just pasting it up there and adding stuff to it. . . 

Fixed now.


----------



## Jon Potter

*Mixed emotions...*

I'm conflicted over this. On the one hand, the Story hour that first drew me to ENWorld way back when is finally complete. But on the other hand, it's finished and I can't look forward to any more updates. I'm not sure what to think. :\ 

But let me echo the praise that others have lavished on you. This thread has been nearly equal parts entertainment and learning experience for me, and I can't thank you enough for both. In particular, the time travelling bit toward the end was inspirational and I intend to use a similar set up in my own campaign.

Thanks for sharing this SH with us, el-remmen.


----------



## el-remmen

Thanks for comment, J.P.! 

I had actually thought you had stopped reading as I had not seen a comment from you in a long long time.

Also, I just started your story hour. . . is there a downloadable compiled version somewhere?


----------



## Jon Potter

*Me? Stop reading?*



			
				el-remmen said:
			
		

> I had actually thought you had stopped reading as I had not seen a comment from you in a long long time.




No way! I'm just a lurker by nature. I always read the updates as soon as I saw them.



> Also, I just started your story hour. . . is there a downloadable compiled version somewhere?




There is, on the Story Hour Archive right here at ENWorld. It's just not easy to recognize for what it is. Tale One, Tale Two, and Tale Three are mine. And I'm pretty sure that they bring the reader right up to the start of the SH.


----------



## Manzanita

This story hour is what brought me to ENworld as well.  It's been a great read & has been a big influence on my own DMing.  I'll miss it, but will follow any new story hour your write, El Remmen.   I loved the way it ended, with most of the PCs off on new, level-appropriate adventures.  Perhaps we'll hear more about them; I'd love to.

Thanks for everything, El-Remmen.  It was time well spent for me.


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> This story hour is what brought me to ENworld as well.




That amazes me just because I can't see how it'd happen.  Seems so _random_. 



			
				Manzanita said:
			
		

> It's been a great read & has been a big influence on my own DMing.  I'll miss it, but will follow any new story hour your write, El Remmen.   I loved the way it ended, with most of the PCs off on new, level-appropriate adventures.  Perhaps we'll hear more about them; I'd love to.
> 
> Thanks for everything, El-Remmen.




Thanks for all the kind words, now and over the last couple years.  They are sincerely appreciated.



			
				Manzanita said:
			
		

> It was time well spent for me.




But would your wife agree?


----------



## handforged

Thank you!  While I can't say that the story hour is how I found ENworld, it is the only thing that I come here for anymore.  I have truly enjoyed the story all the way through and I absolutely loved the ending.  I would like to see writeups of the follow-up sessions, but perhaps as a complete epilogue released at one time.  Please tell your players how much we all enjoyed reading about their campaign, and remind yourself what a good job you did, both as a DM and as a writer.

Thanks again.

~hf


----------



## Manzanita

el-remmen said:
			
		

> ...But would your wife agree?




No!  But she loves me anyway.


----------



## Richard Rawen

I just wanted to add my 2 coppers to the kudos... this SH has been a wonderful source of entertainment and inspiration. Thank you so much for your many long hours of time and to all your players for helping make this a memorable experience for us as well.

Blessings
Richard Rawen
M < > <


----------



## Dawn

Let me pass along my congratulations on this most entertaining (and inspirational) story hour.  This was the first one I started to read after coming to EN World.  I lost my way for some time (actually stopped reading all stories as real life got in the way), but when I got back on the boards I started again with this story.

Going be sad not having these characters around on my lunch hour any longer!

Good luck to you and your players in the next game.  Keep us in mind and start posting installments of the new game!


----------



## el-remmen

Thanks again, everyone.

Prep for the next Aquerra game, "_Second Son of a Second Son_", is in high gear and we hope to begin on the 21st of January, which means the first installment of that story hour might come as early as mid-February. . . but we'll see.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

I'm just getting back from an extended time away.  I've very much enjoyed your written representation of your game.  Your perseverence to complete it is notable and commendable.  I thank you for hours of enjoyment.

GW


----------



## el-remmen

Hey all!

While I am not ready to start posting my new campaign's story hour yet, we have played the first session, and one of the players have begun to keep a journal for his character, Bleys Winter here in the story hour forum: http://www.enworld.org/showthread.php?t=185962

Should be an interesting perspective, and one that will be fun to contrast against the story hour to come, which will have a broader P.O.V.

Cheers!


----------



## Ciaran

My character would keep a journal if he could afford paper and ink.


----------



## rigur

*Thanks!*

Thanks for a great story.

Cheers

R.


----------



## el-remmen

rigur said:
			
		

> Thanks for a great story.
> 
> Cheers
> 
> R.




You are welcome, and there is another story coming soon, that I hope you will find equally as great. . .


----------



## Cyronax

el-remmen said:
			
		

> You are welcome, and there is another story coming soon, that I hope you will find equally as great. . .




I don't know if you remember me, but I was once an avid reader of this story hour. I have had so little time to read EN World in the last few years, but I have always meant to catch up on your story. It was what got me interested in story hours initially if you remember.

Anyway, I'll be looking forward to seeing your Second Son of a Second Son campaign story hour. I bet it'll be great.

Your website is also really too. I actually also have a wikispaces site for my campaign (see link in sig), and I posted a link to your Aquerra site recently. I'd love to hear what you think of it. 

Happy gaming,

C.I.D.


----------



## el-remmen

Cyronax said:
			
		

> I don't know if you remember me, but I was once an avid reader of this story hour.




Of course, I remember you.  Welcome back!



			
				Cyronax said:
			
		

> I have had so little time to read EN World in the last few years, but I have always meant to catch up on your story. It was what got me interested in story hours initially if you remember.




I take it that means you have not caught up still. . .    



			
				Cyronax said:
			
		

> Anyway, I'll be looking forward to seeing your Second Son of a Second Son campaign story hour. I bet it'll be great.




Thanks!  It is a ton of work and I am nervous that grad school will prove too time-consuming to keep up with it, but we'll see.



			
				Cyronax said:
			
		

> Your website is also really too. I actually also have a wikispaces site for my campaign (see link in sig), and I posted a link to your Aquerra site recently. I'd love to hear what you think of it.




I left you a message over there.  That project has been awesome and fun, and allowed me the easy to develop little world-building details here and there with regular ease and easy reference.  

Of course, some of my players have been very much involved in making it as useful as it.


----------



## Cyronax

Glad you remembered me. The whole concept and lead off for Out of the Fryin Pan was especially cool. I'm still really behind in your story ... I think I got to the part just after Jana died. 

Well I hope you're able to post your campaign. It sounds like a cool plot from what I read on your website. I'm in my second semester of grad school right now, and it is difficult to balance school, my D&D campaign, my girlfriend, and work all at once.

It can be done, though my time for D&D has suffered (since it technically and unfortunately is the least important thing on that list   )

Later,

C.I.D.


----------



## Manzanita

I'm the second son of a second son.  & I even have a second son, for what its worth!


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> I'm the second son of a second son.  & I even have a second son, for what its worth!





The irony is, I don't think even one of the PCs in the SSoaSS campaign ended up being the second son of a second son according to their backgrounds.  However, the name was always just a metaphor for "not likely to inherit much".


----------



## Dr. NRG

I just finished up with reading your engrossing tale.  It was enjoyable througout, and I look forward to your next yarn.  

It may be against my own cheap*ss self interest to say so, but you should find a way to get paid for this stuff -- it's just that good. 

NRG


----------



## el-remmen

Dr. NRG said:
			
		

> I just finished up with reading your engrossing tale.  It was enjoyable througout, and I look forward to your next yarn.
> 
> It may be against my own cheap*ss self interest to say so, but you should find a way to get paid for this stuff -- it's just that good.
> 
> NRG




I am glad you enjoyed it, but as for money. I am not really interested.  However, once all the "books" are edited I am going to look into printing them with lulu.com for a private bound set of copies and some gifts for my players - and if anyone wanted to buy one of those. . . well, we'll see when the time comes.


----------



## el-remmen

I have noticed the number of views on this thread goes slowly but steadily up every week or so, which makes me think people are still reading to catch up and finish - and if so, be sure to kick us a bump and let us know when you've finished and what you thought and if you have questions.  This campaign may be over, but it still lives in our hearts. . .  - Also, for those of you reading the "Second Son of a Second Son" campaign story hour, expect some references/allusion to this campaign in the near future.


----------



## aros86

well i started reading from book I some time within the past month and just finished and was really excited thinking i wouldn't have to wait for any updates.  however, i then realized that the two reunion episodes have not yet been posted.  sad!  any idea when we can expect it?


----------



## el-remmen

aros86 said:


> well i started reading from book I some time within the past month and just finished and was really excited thinking i wouldn't have to wait for any updates.  however, i then realized that the two reunion episodes have not yet been posted.  sad!  any idea when we can expect it?




Hey Aros! Thanks for reading.  It's a monster of a story hour! 

Unfortunately, I doubt that at this late date I will ever post the two reunion sessions, as it was so long ago I only have a vague memory of how they went, I don't know where the notes for them would be (if any were even take), and I am too busy with my studies and writing the "Second Son of a Second Son" campaign story hour (see sig) to have the time.

You're a new member, how'd you find us?

Any bits you particularly liked? Hated?


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## aros86

Well I stumbled onto these boards a couple years ago through the forum at Monte Cook's site.  I was playing a druid at the time and someone said something along the lines of hey if you want to see a druid played really well check out Sep's story hour.  I came and read that and then kept stumbling from one thread to the another.  The current story hours I have been following slowed up their posting rates so I started looking for other story hours to follow.  Someone recommended your work so I figured I would give it a try.

As to something I really liked...Gunther's relationship with the KoTG was definitely fun to read.  I liked how the world reacted to the PC's decisions (i.e. what happened with the Shepherds and the Temple of Bast). 

As the story hour came to a close I found Kazrack's distinct black and white world view a little annoying, albeit somewhat comical.  There was nothing I strongly disliked.  Overall - definitely a fun read and I plan on checking out your current story hour soon.


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## el-remmen

I just spent way too long nostalgically re-reading large chunks of this story hour.  Those were the days!


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## el-remmen

A compiled PDF version of Book IV - Into the Fire is now available for download.


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