# "Out of the Frying Pan"- Book III: Fanning the Embers



## el-remmen

”Out of the Frying Pan” – The Adventures of the Fearless Manticore Killers and the Necropolis of Doom!

*Hey All!*  While this is a continuation of the various _“Out of the Frying Pan”_ Aquerra campaign story hours – I have decided to include a little overview of the characters and a bit about what ha been going on in order to encourage folks to jump right in the middle so to speak – at the beginning of what turned out to be a rather long adventure when the party least expected it.  The “old school” flavor of exploring the Necropolis, mixed with the usual “story-telling” style of the campaign worked out well – so well, in fact that I think one could jump in and start reading and basically get what is going on (Yes, it does link back to the main plot – but it is not totally necessary to know that stuff to enjoy the tale – and just might get people to go back and read that stuff anyway).

*Note:* I have retroactively gone back and re-named this thread as Book III: Fanning the Embers, being made up of two parts "The Fearless Manticore Killers & the Necropolis of Doom!!!" (which was the original name of this thread) and "The Fearless Manticore Killers & the Pit of Bones!"

*WARNING! - * The character and plot overviews hold A LOT of spoilers for the earlier threads.   If you want to read from the beginning CLICK HERE.

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*The Ad:*

{This is the ad I used to recruit players}

It is a hot summer, and war rages in the east. The most powerful kingdom in all of the known world fights against one of its own territories in what promises to be a long and bloody civil war. 

But war is soldiers’ work – not adventurers’, not farmers, certainly not yours…

But that one frightening word is on the lips of recruiters, magistrates and town guards, “Conscription!” - There are a million ways to get out of the war, the trouble is finding a good one. 

Verdun – the largest city in Aquerra, capitol of the war-torn Kingdom of Herman Land. Amid the towering spires, religious pilgrims, and ships of conscripts heading out to the Black Islands, the answer can be found. Some people will do anything to get out of the frying pan… 

__________________
Out of the Frying Pan… is a 3E D&D campaign for 4 to 6 players set in Aquerra. The characters will begin at first level, and all characters must have some reason for wanting or having a conscription deferment.


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*The PCs*

*Kazrack Delver* – This black dwarf (what mountain dwarves are called in Aquerra) was born in Derome-Delem, but traveled to the Kingdom of Herman Land with his family as child.  There, he grew up in the dwarven quarter of the capitol, Verdun – also known as “The Heart of Aquerra”.  He joined up with the would-be dragon-hunters to avoid fighting what he considered a “human’s war”, and for the chance to visit the land of his fathers.  Often stubborn to the point of being myopic, Kazrack still is a loyal friend with a good-heart, who often struggles with dwarven tradition versus what he has learned in his life among humans in a dwarven ghetto.  At this point in the story he is Fighter 3/Priest 3 – and refuses to wear armor as a sacrifice to Krauchaar. (dwarven god of battle) for his failings in previous confliects.  Dwarven priests are called “Rune-Throwers”.   _ (First Appearance: Session #1) _

*Beorth Sakhemet* – This paladin dedicated to the jackal-headed deity, Anubis – Guardian of the Dead, seeks to comfort the living, and seek out injustice, but more than that to destroy the abominations of the walking dead.  Born of a noble family of the Black Islands Barony, he signed on to escape house arrest, which was to be the fate of those of his ancestry living in Herman Land – even though he is orphaned.  He decided that abroad in Derome-Delem he would be more likely to fulfill his god’s wishes, than trapped in a monastery in the largest city in the world.  As a punishment for killing a pixie, he had his memory stolen from him.  He only knows his own name because others have told him, and about his duties because while he has forgotten the details of his god’s lore, his god has not forgotten him, and instinctually he knows what is right.  Always taciturn and sometimes capable of a sharp dry wit, he is highly respected by his companions.  At this point in the story his is Paladin 5.  _ (First Appearance: Session #1) _

*Jeremy Northrop* – This young warrior from the Kingdom of Neergaard only showed up in Herman Land seeking out his friend Malcolm MacDuligh, who had met during a hunting trip in the Archduchy of Wallbrook.  Adventurous and often reckless, no one is quite sure what he is doing away from home except “to see things.”  He took the death of his friend quite hard, but found himself roped into circumstances beyond his control and forced to stick with the others.  He was killed by an otyugh, and four members of the party had to promise to undertake tasks for the god Osiris to secure his return from Anubis’ Realm.  He promised to aid each of them in their tasks and to do what he can to safeguard their lives in return for this great gift.  At this point in the story he is Fighter 6.  _ (First Appearance: Session #2) _

*Ratchis of Nephthys* – This half-orc of the Darksh tribe and former slave grew up in the wilds of Derome-Delem.  Dedicated to Nephthys (the goddess of freedom and bravery) and a very capable woodsman, he joined up with the party while seeking to cleanse the woods of diseased wolves that he happened upon, while seeking out a plot to have the would-be dragon-hunters on their way to Gothanius enslaved.  Ugly, short-tempered, often misunderstood, but quietly wise. At this point in the story he is Ranger 2 / Priest 4.  _ (First Appearance: Session #5) _

*Martin the Green* – An alumnus of the famed Academy of Wizardry, Martin did not join up with the group until after they actually arrived in the Kingdom of Gothanius.  He traveled there with a different group of would-be dragon-hunters, and while ostensibly sent as a temporary replacement for his predecessor Tom the Silver, he was also sent to investigate his death.  He is originally from Thricia, a magocracy in the western area of Aquerra. His familiar is red squirrel named Thomas.  Martin the Green does not always come off as the most competent of wizards, having focused more on book-learning than elements of diplomacy and combat, he has found the party’s recent situations over-whelming.  At the time of this adventure he is an illusionist 5. _ (First Appearance: Session #12) _

*Derek Jamison* -  This young red-headed woodsman came seeking out Martin the Green at the behest of another Academy Alumnus, Barnstable the Brown in place of his teacher, Red Arrow.  Little is known of the mysterious young man, as he recently joined the group and taken in with little questioning and lots of trust.  Ostensibly, .he was sent to help with the dragon, but does not claim to be any kind of dragon- expert.  At this point in the story he is ranger 3 / rogue 2.  _ (First Appearance: Session #37) _


*Fallen by the Wayside* – (In order of their passing)

*Malcolm MacDuligh* – This skald from the Dubh Moors of the Archduchy of Wallbrook was killed by goblins soon after arriving ing Derome-Delem. He was an old friend of Jeremy’s, who took his death hard.  He had a penchant for drinking, brawling, singing and walking around naked in the morning, He was a first level bard when he died.  _ (First Appearance: Session #1 / Death: Session #4) _

*Chance* (npc) – Fun-loving, kind-hearted, often brave, but never reckless, and more than just a little bit selfish, Chance has an air of mystery surround him, as he always kept his role as a priest of the luck god a secret from his companions.  Always gambling, singing a song or telling a joke, his death really brought the party together.  He was killed by the demon-gnome Mozek Steamwind as an example to the rest of the party what he was capable.   Jana and Chance had recently become lovers.  Chance was Priest 3 when he died. _ (First Appearance: Session #1 / Death: Session #17) _

*Jana of Westron* – Jana’s place in the group was always in question. A mediocre witch, but a sharp-thinker and a masterful healer, the young girl’s agenda and priorities often came into question.  She conspired with those who attempted to rob Castle Gothanius, and kept from the party the truth about her coming to Derome-Delem (fleeing a murder she had committed) until the fact that she was being sought by her former master could not be hidden any longer.  One of the members of the party to make a promise to Osiris in return for Jeremy’s resurrection, she was still to _“learn magics through the pure methods of Isis”_ before she died.  The rest of the party had hoped that the fulfillment of this promise might lead to her redemption for her misdeeds.  However, she was absorbed into a hideous amorphous alien creature before being able to do so.  She was Witch 5 (a sorcerer variant) when she passed on. _(First Appearance: Session #1 / Death: Session #35) _

*The NPCs*

*Belear Gritchkar* – This black dwarf was the one who trained Kazrack in the ways of Rune-throwers, while he and the party were the “guests” of the Garvan gnomes.  He recently returned with a group of eight dwarves to help defeat Mozek and his brothers, the even demon-gnomes. _ (First Appearance: Session #15) _

*Captain Adalar Barnath* – Toting a great axe and also a rune-thrower, he leads the dwarven troupe, but defers to his elder, Belear. _ (First Appearance: Session #37) _


*Helrahd of the Riverbed* – This red dwarf tracker and woodsman found the party while they hunted he alien beast, and lead them to Belear and the other dwarves.  He is Kirla’s brother. _ (First Appearance: Session #35) _

*Kirla* – Helrahd’s sister is a shield-maiden, a female dwarven warrior dedicated to Rivakanal (Dwarven Goddess of Motherhood and Protection).  She is fiercely independent and seems to chafe against many of the gender customs of her people. _ (First Appearance: Session #37) _

*Golnar, Tolnar & Jolnar Tarnitch* – These young blonde mountain dwarves are an extremely rare occurrence in dwarven culture, triplets.  And while twins are considered a blessing, triplets are considered freakish.  They are inexperienced and eager to prove themselves, but obey Captain Adalar unquestioningly. _ (First Appearance: Session #37) _

*Blodnath* – This dwarf’s black hair is streaked with white.  He has a weathered face, and does not speak much.  He is the dwarves’ “gearsman” – specializing in traps, locks and sneaking around. _ (First Appearance: Session #37) _

*Baervard* – This brown-haired and bearded handsome dwarf never speaks, and spends all his time with Blodnath. _ (First Appearance: Session #37) _

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*The Story So Far:*

This is a very brief overview of what has been happening in the threads that led up to this one.  There are definite SPOILERS at the same time that some events are omitted for simplicity’s sake.  You will need to actually go back and read the first two “books” to get the full story.

*Book One: Gathering Wood* – In this book, our heroes first signed up to avoid conscription and traveled to Derome-Delem with a large group of others seeking to avoid the war, and deal with the less immediate task of hunting a dragon, in return for a grant of land and citizenship in the Kingdom Gothanius.  Along the way, friends, allies and enemies were made and others were lost.  Book One ended with the group’s arrival at the city of Twelve Trolls, capitol of Gothanius.  Book One spans from session #1 to session #11.

*Book Two: Catching the Spark* – This book spans from Session #12 to Session #39.  Teaming up with Martin, the party forms one of dozens of groups of five sent out to hunt the dragon.  However, they soon become embroiled in the unforeseen diplomatic crisis involving a nearby community of gnomes, their dislike of the humans and their inadvertent infiltration by half-fiend gnomes.  Add to this, learning that the dark elves are returning to the surface world, a splinter group of monks see to be corrupting the teaching of Anubis and quests made in the name of Osiris in return for Jeremy being brought back to life, and soon it seemed impossible to unravel the tangled knot of dilemmas the party is trying to solve.  And behind all of this is the quest for the enigmatic _Hurgun’s Maze_, an infamous geomancer’s lost stronghold that is some kind of planar focal point, and promises to give whomever discovers its secrets great power. Book Two ends with the party returning to Garvan to face the evil gnomes with their dwarven allies, to find that the humans of Gothanius have already battled the gnomes and the conditions for war are ripe.  They have decided to follow the track of an escaped undead Gothanian soldier (a wight) who seemed to have been under the control of the evil gnomes and might lead the party directly to them.


I will be posting the first installment within the next couple of weeks. . .  In the meantime, I welcome any questions. . .


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## Horacio

Wonderful, compadre, it's nice to read it, it give me back good memories of books I & II...


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## Black Bard

Oh, yeah, pretty good memories...

BTW, nemm... Are you ever going to make the _Aquerra Player's Guide_ available?


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## el-remmen

Black Bard said:
			
		

> *
> 
> BTW, nemm... Are you ever going to make the Aquerra Player's Guide available? *




It is not looking very likely. . .  The amount of work required to get it  ready for public consumption is prohibitive when you consider working full time and working on my music. . .

I have not worked on it in nearly a year. . .  

I have most of the chapters writtten up - but it is a matter of editing and re-writing and collecting info for the more crunchy chapters. . .  it is very daunting.


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## Black Bard

*Re:*

I understand...
And I know you've made it available at some past time, but then I wasn't able to listen to it... So could you link your  _music_  homepage again?


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## el-remmen

[redacted]


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## el-remmen

*First Installment. . .*

*Session #40*

Part One: In which the “dead land” is discovered.

Ratchis looked up at the sun, thinking that it might be nearly exactly one day since the undead creature had drawn his life force from him, making him feel a bit cold, and a bit jittery.  He could feel the reverberations of the loss as if his very spirit were fighting off the infection of darkness.  The friar of Nephthys knew that soon the battle would come to its climax and called for his goddess’ divine _guidance_ to guide him through that difficult moment, and suddenly it was past, and he felt his strength and faith rise in him again (1).

The half-orc was a ways away from the rest of the group, looking for tracks when this happened, as he wanted to be alone for the struggle.  He noted the way the lieutenant-turned-wight’s track veered to the east.  It did not seem to jive with the way he figured the hidden gnomish community must be (2), but it was possible that the demon-gnomes had a lair elsewhere that they could find and surprise their foes.  However, the zombies that had been turned the day before seemed to go in a more northerly direction.

Ratchis came out of the brush, where the others waited.  The dwarves all looked ever-vigilant, the memory of their first battle at this very site with evil gnomish necromancer fresh in their mind.  The rest of the party stood encircled by the dwarves, not quite as vigilant.

“Martin,” Kazrack asked Martin, scratching his chin in contemplation of the what he was certain to be an up-coming battle with more half-demon gnomes. “If you knew someone was coming to attack you in your home, what magical preparations would you set?  Uh, I mean, if your were, uh… you know, that powerful.”

Martin smirked.  “I would snares and sentries of some kind, and traps…”

“Gnomes are said to be mechanically inclined,” Kazrack replied. “It is possible we may run into those kinds of things as well.  We need a way to set them off ahead of us.”

No one had any suggestions, and nor did Kazrack seem to really need any to continue his audible inner dialogue, addressing others almost as if out of habit, as he bounced from topic to topic.  “And we need to coordinate better in combat.  We need to not just rush in, and go in opposite directions to go our own thing.  We need to support each other.  Glory is good, but…”

“Survival is better,” Martin finished for him.

“Cowardice is a sin,” Belear commented.

Ratchis interrupted by explaining how the tracks diverged.

“Do we follow the zombies or this thing you keep referring to as a wight?” Derek asked, leaning on his bow. His new battleaxe was strapped to his back, and its bright polished head, shone brightly in the dying light come through the canopy of budding trees. (3)

“I think the wight is more important,” Kazrack said.

It was agreed and the large party made their way down an earthen embankment to the west, led by Ratchis who remained a good eighty to one hundred feet ahead at all times.  Before leaving, Kazrack cast _Status_ on the half-orc tracker.

As they marched the first few miles, the trees grew scarcer and the forest floor became more thorny and brown, as the green gave way to budding golden heather that was gray in great splotches. 

“We’re not going towards the gnome village anymore,” Thomas chittered in Martin’s head. The watch-mage reached up and scratched under his familiar’s fuzzy little chin.  The squirrel’s red fur bristled with delight.  He dug his claws into Martin’s green robe-covered shoulder.

“Can you talk to the animals here and find out if they’ve seen any gnomes or undead, or anything else funny?” Martin queried with his thoughts alone, projecting them to the tree-rodent.

“Actually, the animals aren’t the same here. These animals are dumb,” Thomas replied, and then moved to correct himself. “I mean, not as in smart, but as in they can’t talk.” (4)

Martin nodded in understanding, knowing that Thomas would simply sense his understanding without having to fully express it in thought. He and his familiar were bonded and what one felt the other felt.  However, he was impressed by Thomas’ increasing vocabulary when he did have to express abstract ideas.  As an expression of his own personality, Martin the Green was strangely proud of his squirrel companion. (5)

The landscape grew more fractured, as the party now marched up and down and around great scrub-covered swellings in the earth.  They were not quite hills, but too large to step over and they rose on to a large plateau at the horizon.   Coming over one of these, Jeremy paused and turned back to look at the line of 15 men and dwarves.  He shielded his eyes with one hand, resting his left on the hilt of his long sword. He had to brush his growing blonde out of the way, the skin of his neck was caked with dirt from the road, but he still had a youthful handsomeness that shone through the golden stubble on his face.  

Beorth walked past him and paused, and turned to see the descending sun as well.

Jeremy sighed, “Whatever you did, it really worked.  That wight ran all day and night to get away from you.”

The Neergaardian turned back towards the direction they were marching and began again.

Beorth followed.  “It fears my god’s power.”   

Jeremy shuddered, as if the shadow of the memory of his death passed over him momentarily. (6)

-------

A few more hours past, and soon Ra’s Glory’s light was dying in burnt orange sunset behind them as they mounted a final embankment, a rough ridge like a split hill that obscured the land beyond.  It seemed to run for miles both north and south across their path in the gathering gloom.

Ratchis was the first to see it, and he gasped.  He reached down and helped up Kazrack, as Jeremy and Derek lithely clambered up.

“Osiris have mercy,” Beorth said when he saw what lay beyond, and the dwarves helped each other up to stare silently at the sight.

Before them was a black and barren land of ash and standing columns of stone.  It seemed to go far as they could see.  The ridge seemed to be the edge of a great rent in the ground, as if some huge and burning thing had slammed into the ground here.   Beyond the ridge the earth was covered in a powder fine black ash, and the randomly interspersed were cylinders of black and gray rock, that varied in diameter from one foot to five feet, and some seemed to taper, but none was any shorter than seven feet high, but some reached fifteen or more feet up.  The many columns created a labyrinth of shadowed alleyways that scattered in all directions.

Kazrack leaned over and whispered to Belear, “Could this be Dralmohir?” (7)

Belear shook his head, “We are far too westward for this to be that accursed place, and also if this were it I am afraid we would have already been beset by more of the walking dead than we could handle.”

“What is this foul place?” Golnar asked aloud.

“It looks like a place where undead might be found,” Tolnar said, with awe and a bit of fear in his voice.

“I can’t wait to get some payback on them,” Jolnar said, rubbing his shoulder with one hand where a zombie had slammed him.

The three dwarven brothers’ voices carried out across the dead land, as no other sound emanated from the place, not a bird chirp, not a insect buzz, not even the wind seemed to emerge.

Ratchis shushed them.

“Tolnar, keep your voice down,” Kazrack hissed at the dwarves who were not all that much younger than he.   

“They could wake the dead,” Beorth quipped uncharacteristically.  Jeremy gave him a quizzical look.

“Shall we make camp here on one of these little hills and tackle this place in the morning?” Martin asked.

“No, we should keep going.  The undead creature has too much of a lead on us already and he has no need of rest,’ Beorth said, regaining his composure.

“But the sun is going down,” Derek said.

“We have no need of the sun,” Captain Adalar said.  “Let us press on.”

Ratchis nodded, and Jeremy shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s decided,” Kazrack said, stepping down into the ashen land, a thick cloud of dust rose up obscuring the thin waxing moon.

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

*Notes:*

(1) *DM’s Note*: I allowed an intelligence check against DC 18 to determine when the 24 hours have passed since the initial energy drain, allowing for helpful spells (such as _Guidance_, which I ruled will also help with level checks) to be cast in time to help.  _Energy Drain_ itself represents the siphoning off all or part of a person’s life-force and replacing it with a bit of material from the negative energy plane, causing the spirit to battle with this force for dominance; either healing the lost portion or giving in to the infecting darkness.

(2) The party was originally on their way to help free a gnomish community from the yoke of evil half-fiend gnomes.  However, despite having live there for months at one time, they are not sure of its exact location.

(3) Derek was given the half-fiend gnome, Mokad’s, captured masterwork battleaxe to use.

(4) Thomas displayed the ability to converse with other small animals living near the gnomish community when the party was last here.

(5) In Aquerra, familiars are created from a physical manifestation of the spell-caster’s personality.  A familiar, often expresses it in similar, but exaggerated ways as its master, and its developing intelligence mirrors that of the master as well.

(6) Jeremy was killed by a garbage monster (otyugh) in Session #12, and brought back from the dead in Session #23.

(7) _Dralmohir_ is 4the name for a broken land in Derome-Delem overrun by the undead. It was once a prosperous mountain community of dwarves that was cursed, and the mountain torn asunder, exploding into furious volcano and collapsing.


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## el-remmen

*Preview. . .*

*NEXT TIME IN ANOTHER SPINE-TINGLING INSTALLMENT OF…*

*THE ADVENTURES OF THE FEARLESS MANTICORE KILLERS AND THE NECROPOLIS OF DOOM*


> _The party stumbles upon the ominous black monolith marking in the entrance to… *THE NECROPOLIS OF DOOM! *, and find their troubles are just beginning. . . _


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## Jon Potter

*Re: Preview. . .*



			
				nemmerle said:
			
		

> *NEXT TIME IN ANOTHER SPINE-TINGLING INSTALLMENT OF…
> 
> THE ADVENTURES OF THE FEARLESS MANTICORE KILLERS AND THE NECROPOLIS OF DOOM
> *





Very nice. You know I'll be here for it!


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## handforged

What a great start for the new post!  I hope the Fearless Manticore Killers have some good luck in the coming sessions.

~hf


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## Pillars of Hercules

*Onward, Manticore Killers!*

Still reading as always, Nemm... great stuff!


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## el-remmen

*Session #40 (part II)*

*Session #40*

Part Two: In which the monolithic entrance to the Necropolis is discovered.

The Fearless Manticore Killers and their dwarven companions fell into a staggered line as they marched, still being led by Ratchis, but Kazrack and Belear followed close behind, with Martin the Green  flanked by Helrahd and Kirla.  Jeremy came up behind him.  Beorth was marching at the rear with Captain Adalar and the three brothers.

They could all feel the fine black dust like miniscule shards of black glass stinging their nostrils and ripping the back of their throats raw.  Even in the little moonlight there was, everyone’s hair and clothes seemed to glisten black.  They were all covered by a thin layer of the inhospitable stuff.

The tall columns of stone were wreathed in the darkness of the shadows of the others, making a web eerie moonlight that they had to at time walk through. 

“You know if I were laying an ambush here I would use illusions to conceal men…or wights,” Martin said, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise.  The temperature had dropped considerably and he could see his own breath in the blueness of night.

“I don’t think they have laid an ambush here,” Kazrack said, looking back.

“Unless they hid behind those rocks,” Jeremy said, a little too loudly.  Up ahead Ratchis stopped and looked back, and the dwarves all looked at the blonde human then at each other, and suddenly the sound of their boots crunching in the ash was punctuated with grumblings.   Ratchis scowled and continued.

Jeremy seemed to take no notice of any of it.

“Unless they were using mundane means of concealment,” Kazrack whispered by way of some form of explanation for his comment, wanting to get the last word in.

“Like, what? Hiding behind rocks?” Jeremy said, sarcastically.

Derek chuckled.

“I wonder if this place was made during the Mountain Wars?” Martin mused aloud, changing the subject. (1)

“In a war? You think a war made this?” Jeremy gestured in a round motion with the torch he carried over his head, sending wild shadows over the nearby dwarves.

“Yes, perhaps through some great magic, or perhaps it was the work of Hurgun,’ Martin replied. (2)

“So you think magic made all this,” Jeremy asked again, remaining skeptical.

“I don’t know,” Martin retreated from his assertion his lack of confidence undermining his readily apparent intellectual superiority over Jeremy.  His attitude became sharp and defensive, “You can’t say this is exactly a _normal_ place.”

“No kidding,” Derek said softy, smiling.  Martin wrinkled his upper lip in anger and slowed his pace to allow Beorth to catch up.

Jeremy looked at Derek and snickered.

They had marched for about three miles, when Ratchis looked up to notice that they had not moved much more than a quarter mile away from the ridge that marked this bizarre land’s edge.   They had doubled-back on their tracks in long winding trails.  The tall stone columns were scattered in a very disorienting way, especially in the dark.  He looked back over the group and could see exhaustion on their faces, even though the dwarves would never admit it.  The sudden cold snap, breathing in the ash, the whole day of marching and the battle of the day before all weighed heavily on their shoulders.

“We have to go back,” Ratchis announced.  “We are too tired and weak to continue.”

“Heh. Figures,” Blodnoth coughed into his hand.

It was agreed, and making their way back to the edge took relatively no time at all. They had to use ropes to help the dwarves (and Martin) get up the other side of the ridge incline. It was very steep and covered in the ash. 

They made camp.  Ratchis dug a big fire pit and lined it with some of the ash, but the few scrubby trees that were in the area did not provide much wood, and the group had carried about enough tinder to last another three days.  

The half-orc also used the last of his prepared healing spells to help Jeremy and Kazrack with some wounds that still ailed them.  He did the same for himself, softly calling to his beloved goddess.

Kazrack and Belear fell to discussing what spells they might prepare in the morn.  “Should we not invite D’naar to join us in this discussion?” Kazrack asked the other two dwarven priests.

Captain Adalar scowled, but Belear merely shook his bowed head.  “He received blessings from his own god. He can keep his own counsel.”

Kazrack reluctantly agreed, his eyes resting momentarily of his half-breed friend speaking with Beorth about the positioning of the tents.  The half-orc’s visage was made more menacing and ugly in the harsh shadows of the fire.


After everyone had eaten, the adventurers began to bed down for the night.  There was already a frost covering the ridge they had made camp on, but none could be seen collecting on the ash.  Ratchis and Beorth took the first watch along with the three dwarven brothers, who circled the camp very enthusiastically.

This watch went by without event, and Martin awoke for the latter half of it, only needing two hours of sleep a night. (3)  

Martin studied his books while he watched with the second shift, Derek, Jeremy, Kirla, Blodnath and Baervard.  

In the deadest and darkest part of the night, soon after the moon set there came a sudden and sharp sound from out across the land of the black stone columns.  It was a repeated cracking as if pices of wood or something similar was being smashed against each other.  Even when the smashing stopped, its echoed carried on for long moments, and when it died there would be a long pause and then it began again.

“What is that?” Jeremy hissed.

“Someone’s making an awful lot of noise,” Derek said sardonically.  Martin looked around nervously.

The sound did not seem to come nearer or move further away.

“It does not approach, but should we wake the others?” She looked to Martin, who shrugged his shoulders.

“No,” Blodnath said.  “No reason to yet.”

Martin and Jeremy nodded.  The sound came again several more times, and then after nearly an hour’s time of on and off again, it stopped and was not heard again.

The sun had not yet risen when Belear awoke for the third watch, telling the others to go to sleep as he awoke Kazrack and Helrahd.   Captain Adalar woke of his own volition.  Martin sat up and watched with them at all, not having so much as yawned all night.

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

Isilem, 9th of Prem, 565 H.E.

When the sun did rise, the camp was already bustling and being broken down.  The unusual cold of the night gave way to unusual rise in temperature, and soon all the dwarves were scratching under their beards, where sweat collected.  Everyone rolled up their woolen and fur cloaks and strapped them to their packs.  

They began by following their own trail back into the labyrinth of columns, but crossing where they could see it deeper in the dead area, as they could now see clearly how they had wandered aimlessly through the ash.  Now in the bright light it seemed so clear  how to get further into this barren land, but in the darkness of night, the place was much more disorienting.  

Disorienting it was still, but Ratchis and Derek soon found the trail of the zombies, which soon re-joined with that of the wight, and they all moved deeper into the maze of spikes and columns.  The trail led them in a zigzagging pattern, turning in long curves and then moving in as straight a line as possible.   The single wight trail often left the trenches dragged into the ash by the shuffling zombies, but always returned.

The heat began to become unbearable, as the sun seemed to be cruelly pointing out the weary adventurers, as the black ash rose up in great clouds, and infiltrated every nook and cranny of their clothing and equipment.  They could feel their lungs and nostrils burning raw from inhaling the stuff.  

Derek stopped for a drink of water from his skin.  He felt light headed, and it hurt to breath.   Jeremy began to cough, and Kazrack and the dwarves were all wheezing. (5) Tears streamed down Ratchis’ face for ash kept blowing into his eyes.   A weakness was coming over all of them from the heat and from breathing the ash.  Beorth seemed the least affected, but even he gasped at times.   Following the boy’s lead, even one stop and began to drink and wipe their faces. 

“This is a horrible place,” Martin said.

“It’s likely to get worse before it gets better,” Ratchis said.  “Everyone drink up.  We have to keep going.  I think I can see where the trail is going, and the columns looks different in that direction.”

Helrahd grunted, “You know we are kicking up so much of this stuff that anyone could see us a mile away or more.”   As dry as everyone’s mouth was, Helrahd still found some mucus to hack up and spit out into the ash.

“There is nothing we can do about it,” said Kazrack.

They continued to follow Ratchis after their too brief rest, and the trail the undead left behind led to a odd series of columns.    Here the columns were tall and tapered to nearly a point, and they were very close together, so much so that some seemed to create a narrower corridor, only fifteen feet at its widest.  It was possible to squeeze between these spires, but not with ease as the ash was piled high around them.

“Oh great, the killing zone,” Martin sighed sarcastically, imagining countless foes blocking off either end as they emerged from the shadows of the columns and from underneath the ash.

“Well, I guess we’re going to have to turn back then,” Kazrack said looking at the watch-mage with a smile.

Martin did not return the expression.

“It was a joke friend Martin,” Kazrack said, his face getting serious.  “I thought that’d be obvious.  It as meant as humor.”

“No fear,” Martin replied, and then added under his breath. “I knew I wasn’t that lucky.”

“We all need to remain extra alert,” Captain Adalar said.   Golnar, Jolnar and Tolnar loaded their crossbows.

Kazrack clutched the bag of runes about his neck (4) and spoke out to one of the dwarven gods in his father’s tongue, “Krauchaar, give me strength to defeat our foes, crush their skulls and break their bones!” 

The dwarf could feel the strength divinely awarded him surging through his muscles.  He deftly swung his halberd over his shoulder.  It hardly seemed to weigh a thing anymore.

 Ratchis led the way down the corridor of pillars, followed by Kazrack, Belear and Beorth, who were then followed by Derek and Jeremy and Martin.  The rest of the dwarves followed behind, with Captain Adalar and the three dwarven brothers taking the rear.
They had walked only a few dozen yards down the curving corridor, when Ratchis notices two of the spires sticking into the path.  

There was something hanging on each of them.

The half-orc raised his hand and slowed his pace.  Everyone followed suit.

The wind shifted and a foul rotting smell wafted overt them in that instant.   

Beorth grimaced with anger when he saw what it was.   Martin gasped.  

The corpses of two decaying gnolls hung from the columns, their arms twisted back and tied to each other by the wrist with a long stretch of hide that was looped over the spire.  

Without a speaking a word, Ratchis climbed up on of the spires and hacked through the hide with a hatchet.  The gnoll body slid down in sickeningly snapping pile of bones, cartilage, and withered hide.

“What are you doing?” Kazrack called to Ratchis, as the ranger hopped back down into the ash.

“We need to take care of this,” Ratchis said, walking over towards the opposite column.

“Can’t this wait until the return trip?” Kazrack asked.

“I am not so much concerned with proper burial as I am worried about the necromancer using them against us,” Ratchis said, climbing up to cut down the other.

“I thought we killed the necromancer,” Adalar said, coming to the front to see what was going on.

“There could be another one,” Ratchis said, coming back down.

“We do not have time to properly deal with them,” Beorth said.

“Can’t we just burn them here?” Ratchis asked.

“Why alert our enemies who are no doubt nearby?” Kazrack said.  

“It’s true,” Martin said.  “We do not know how many different types of enemies we might find here.  These gnolls seem in no way related to either the gnomes or the humans, it is possible that other factions or dangers are nearby.  Thus, the cloud of ash we are creating and painfully breathing in might not be so unusual for someone to see from somewhere else; either way we have no choice.  However, a fire might rouse some suspicions and we _do_ have a choice about that.”

Everyone looked at Martin the Green with some surprise.

“Well spoken,” said Kazrack

“Let us leave them, we shall return to deal with them properly once we have dealt with the more immediate danger,” Beorth said. “Let us not disturb them even more by unduly touching them even more.”

The paladin had a look of disdain on his face, clearly not wanting to leave the bodies, but inwardly vowing that he would return for them.

The group continued moving, but Jeremy hung back, and soon was able to creep into a shadowy space between two columns, allowing the trailing dwarves to pass him.  He then crept back to the two gnoll corpses and cleaved their heads off with his sword.

“Better safe than sorry,” he said aloud, as he wiped off his blade and hurried to rejoin the others before they noticed his absence.

Blodnath eyed him warily when he returned and the Neergaardian gave him a nervous wink.

They now began to find more pairs of rotting gnolls, each set in a greater state of decay than the last, about every six or eight columns. The final sets were merely bones and hair.

“This is very odd,” Martin wondered, wiping ashy and sweaty forehead with a dust cover kerchief. “Why are these here?”

“Perhaps the earliest ones were freshest,” Jeremy replied.

Martin the Green gave the swordsman a quizzical look, “But why are they here?”

“Maybe they needed to be prepared?” Jeremy speculated.

“Prepared for what?  To become the undead?’ Kazrack interjected.  “I think all you need to become a zombie or something is an evil heart.”

Ratchis snorted.  “There is a clearing up ahead.  Be prepared.”

The party began to move forward again, but Ratchis stopped them suddenly.  He easily noted that a new set of tracks had enter the corridor from a slightly wider space between columns.   It was dozens of booted feet that had been hurrying.  The shaggy patterns in the ash around this track suggested that it had been living gnolls, and not more than a day ago.

He told the others what he had noted, and then led them to the clearing.

Here the columns of stone were even taller, and widened to create a large oblong space, about 200 feet long and about 150 feet wide.  Near the center was black stone that seemed to emerge from the ash.  They could not see how far back it reached, but it was nearly fifty feet wide and fifteen feet tall, and was flat on the top.  The front of it looked like it had once been partially melted and raised shelf of stone about five feet up led to a recessed portion on the front, flanked by awkward steps that seemed to have been made of flowing magma and led to the flat surface atop.  Where two large painted stone statutes of tall gnoll figures dressed in feathers stood waiting.  The statues seemed weathered, and one was missing an arm, which must have once pointed down at the stone shelf.   The way the stairways curved towards each other, giving the stone the rough appearance of a horned beetle.   


On the shelf was the prone skeleton of some huge humanoid.  Its bone white wrists were still held in shackles attached to chains that reached back into the five-foot recess. 



However, what was most unnerving about this place was that the entire ‘clearing’ was not black with ash, but a washed gray of crushed shards of bone.   There were all sorts of femurs, and skull fragments, and clavicles and pelvis and tons of unidentifiable shattered parts and powder. 

“Maybe we’re not ready for Hurgun’s Maze yet,” Jeremy said, gulping dryly.

“You think?” Martin replied.

“What makes you think this is Hurgun’s Maze?” Kazrack asked, shocked by the suggestion.

“Well, he _was_ a stone wizard, wasn’t he?” Jeremy gestured to the odd monolith. 

“Stone, not bone,” Kazrack said, gesturing with his halberd to the ground before them.

“This is not an auspicious place to be battling a necromancer,” Martin said, running through worse-case scenarios in his head.

Beorth stepped to the front and gestured for the others to stand back.  Most of the group hovered at the entrance, while Golnar, Tolnar and Jolnar turned to watch their backs at Captain Adalar’s direction.

The paladin of Anubis covered his eyes with his left hand and reached out with his right.

“Anubis grant me sight beyond sight to sense the emanations of dark powers in this place so we may put the dead to final and deserving rest in your name.”

Beorth reached out with his senses feeling them unite  and become greater than the sum of their parts.  It was as if he could see despite he was covering his eyes, but he could see more than he normally could.  There was a dark shadow that passed over his heart when looked at the base of the stone, in a corner on the right beneath one of the stairways.

“Beorth, do you sense something?” Ratchis asked.

Beorth nodded and pointed.  “Somehow it seems to be coming from beneath the ash and bone.

“Something’s coming,” Derek spoke up, his keen ears catching what all the others now heard, the sound of bones crunching under feet, coming from the right side of the stone. 

Around the right side of the huge black stone came the shambling figures of four Gothanian soldiers in tattered armor and tunics.  They wore empty scabbards on their sides, and their faces were rotting and ripped up.  One seemed to have it skull have crushed, one eyeball resting like a gray jelly on his face.  The four zombies moved towards the party, arms outstretched and moaning their eternal agony.

“Form a line!” Ratchis commanded, stepping forward and drawing  his long sword.  “Kazrack do not go too far.  Martin watch the flank.  I will not waste my divine blessing on these!”

“Watch the back,” Captain Adalar reminded his young charges.  “Do not let anything through, and call us if you see anything!”

Derek threw his bow over his neck and shoulders and pulled his battle axe off his back, stepping up to join the forming line.  Jeremy and Kazrack joined him, while Martin hustled over to the other side, checking to see if anything was coming from the other side.  He was slightly ahead of the line.

“More are coming from the other side,” the watch-mage warned.

Beorth broke the line slightly, stepping forward to be even with Martin and taking a swing with his long sword at one of the zombie shoulders, who had nearly reached them, but he misjudged and missed.  Derek stepped forward again, to support Beorth, but the chop of his axe was short as well.  If the guttural moaning of the thing had not been constant, it would have seemed mocking.

Grunting Ratchis, joined the two humans and his blade did not miss is mark.  A huge chunk of this first zombie’s arm fell into the bone, splattering near-liquid rotten flesh on the bones piled around.  The crunching of bones beneath their boots accompanied all their movements. 

Martin pulled a torch he always carried in his belt, and waving a hand incanted, _Manus Incantati!_  He let go of the torch, but it floated in the air, supported by an invisible hand. 

Jeremy stepped up and joined the forward moving line, but further on the left, waiting for more zombies to approach, while Kazrack slashed at the first zombie twice, cutting it into three flailing pieces that soon stopped moving.

“Thank you my lords and lady!” Kazrack cried out joyously in dwarven. 

Another zombie reached the line and swung its calcified fists at Beorth, who duck and thrust with his sword.  The blade entered the zombie point first, but seemed to have no effect.

More zombies approached, Derek swung his axe fiercely, having to jerk it back and forth to pull it out of the collarbone of the first to reach him, but the zombie did not fall.  

Ratchis’ sword blow was blocked by the forearm of his foe, doing no damage, while Martin sent his now lit torch over to the closest approaching zombie.

Jeremy gritted his teeth and swung at a zombie’s neck with all his strength.  The former soldier’s head tumbled off, and for a moment the zombie continued to flail its arms menacingly at the Neergaardian and then fell.

Another zombie fell to Kazrack’s pole-axe.

The dwarves set up a second line behind the party, readying to support them, except for Helrahd who stepped up and joined them with an axe in each hand. He spit in the direction of the zombies.

Now the entire party was locked in combat with the zombie soldiers, but their combat skill was enough to avoid the awkward flailing blows of the mindless creatures.

And suddenly there was a sound like a hissing roar.  Atop of the black monolith, above the stone shelf with its chained skeleton, there appeared a gnoll, dressed in a robe of faded feathers, and a mask of flayed human skin.  A nasty stench of death, even stronger than that of the zombies, wafted from him, and his fur looked mangy and falling off in large clumps.  Red glowing eyes shone from beneath the mask of skin.

Not a second had passed when the skeleton in chains began to rattle and shake, as if trying to rise, as a cloud of dust rose from the corner where Beorth had sensed the presence of evil.  The Gothanian lieutenant wight came burrowing out from under the ground frenzied.  Its eyes shone red as well.

“Revenge,” it hissed, as it surveyed the party struggling with the zombified remains of his troops.

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

(1) The _Mountain Wars_ lasted from 409 to 427 H.E. – when the Kingdom of Herman Land tried to annex Derome-Delem and met fierce resistance from allied dwarves, gnomes, elves and even halfings.

(2) _Hurgun of the Stone_ was a geomancer of some renown, who was said to have constructed his stronghold at some kind of planar nexus.  It is a place of power that the party has discovered several factions are searching for.

(3)  Martin’s ring called “_Lacan’s Demise_” allows him to go without food, water or more than two hours of sleep.

(4) Called “Rune-throwers” dwarven priests use rune-stones as their holy symbol and as a form of divination.

(5) *DM’s Note:* All the characters were making Fortitude checks every hour or taking subdual damage from breathing in the caustic ash.


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## el-remmen

*NEXT TIME IN ANOTHER HAIR-RAISING INSTALLMENT OF…*

*THE ADVENTURES OF THE FEARLESS MANTICORE KILLERS AND THE NECROPOLIS OF DOOM*


> _The party does fierce battle with the gnoll witch-doctor wights, and learns that they have happened yet another mystery. . ._


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## e3_Jeb

This is fantastic! I'm waiting feverishly for the next post! The imagry of your words makes the story quite alive.


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## el-remmen

e3_Jeb said:
			
		

> *This is fantastic! I'm waiting feverishly for the next post! The imagry of your words makes the story quite alive. *




Welcome Aboard, Jeb!

I take it you just started reading this story hour with this thread?  Well, either way I'm glad you're enjoying it and will endeavor to update again soon - as the ensuing combat is pretty durn exciting. . .


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## Manzanita

Stylin'.  Let's rock boys & girls!


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## el-remmen

*End of Session #40*

*Session #40*

Part Three: The party does fierce battle with the gnoll witch-doctor wights, and learns that they have happened upon yet another mystery. . ..

“Revenge,” the former Gothanian officer, hissed again.  He left a rain of bones behind him as he ambled forward, his shoulders hunched, and his lower lip ripped open and oozing yellow pus spotted with purple-black splotches. 

Derek smashed the skeleton before him into shards, his fear giving him sudden vigor.

“Natan”Ahb!” Belear stepped up behind the line and called out to the father of all dwarves.  “I implore you forger of our souls to allow your divine wind fill me and blow out again like the great bellows of your forge!  And to cast these undead things back into whatever pit they crawled from!”

All the zombies turned to flee, their automatic motor functions reacting to the presence of a divine force.

Ratchis took this opportunity to call upon Nephthys to bless his sword with an enchantment, while Martin sent his torch flying over towards the wight-lieutenant.   Jeremy however took advantage of the zombie turning from him blindly and hacked at it deeply.  It fell to the ground and feeble tried to get back up though one of its legs was missing and its head was cleaved open, before it just stopped moving entirely.

Kazrack also took the time to call upon one of his gods.  “Mother of Blessed Mercy, raise your shield and defend me from those who would wish me harm!” (1)

Helrahd took off after a zombie moving to the left of the monolith.

“We can no longer hold the line, there are enemies with a vantage from above!” Kazrack called out.  “We must advance!  Half to the left! Half to the right!”

Jolnar, Tolnar and Golnar left their positions ‘watching the back’ and jostled to get past Kirla and the others.

“Let me through!” Tolnar said, shoving past Blodnath with a grin.

“There is space over here,” Jolnar said, moving to take the place at the entrance to the clearing that Helrahd had just vacated.

“Tarnitch! (2) Don’t rush up there!” Captain Adalar barked, and the younger dwarves starled, seemingly more afraid of him than of the undead danger before them.  “Let the others take care of that!  You watch the back!  My orders have not changed.”

“Yes, sir,” Golnar replied meekly.

Up on the monolith, the rotting gnoll shaman rose up to his full height.  His bones and sinews could be heard to crack even above the din of the battle.

The thing shook its shoulders violently, moldy feathers fluttering from his cloak and shoulder regalia.  It cried aloud something in the barking and laughing tongue of the gnolls, but it sounded like snorts and croaks.  It pointed to Martin, who looked up in horror to see three pulsating shafts of light hurl at him, and strike him with the force mailed gloves.   The watch-mage gasped in pain.

The torch dropped to the ground.  The concentration on his _mage hand_ spell was broken. 

The former lieutenant shrieked as it rushed at Kazrack, who stopped short, to feel the whiff of blackened and dirty claws in front of his face.

It was the sound of the chain scraping and clanging that awoke Beorth from his mind wandering as he took in this place and this scene in awe.  He could sense of the evil of this place in his pores.  Though he could not remember his former life, his family, or even his companions or the details of the undead he had been trained to fight, he did not lose his sense of purpose.  For a moment it had been as if Anubis himself had illuminated this place for him to see it, and not the dragging tracks of a foul wight.  The paladin allowed himself a smile, and called upon his jackal-headed god to enchant his weapon, and he move steadily towards the left hand stair.  He ignored the sound, which had awakened him, not taking his eyes off of the undead shaman above, but the others did not.  

They could all see the nearly nine foot tall skeleton of what must have been an ogre, pull the chain from the wall as it stood, and swung the heavy shackle over its head.

Ratchis moved to follow Beorth, scooping up some pebbles from the ground and calling on Nephthys to enchant the stones as well. (3)

Martin hurried back to the relative safety of the line of dwarves, casting his _shield_ spell in the process.  He passed Derek who moved to wait just out of reach of the giant skeleton’s weapon.  Looking for an opportunity to get within its reach.

Unlike Ratchis and Beorth, who moved past Kazrack to get to whom they perceived to be the leader, Jeremy moved up to support his dwarven ally and with a quick chop of his long sword, removed its right arm at the elbow.  Black blood spurted and then oozed out.  

The wight screeched again, and side-stepped Kazrack’s thrust of his halberd.  The dwarf ‘s momentum caused him to lean overly forward losing his balance, and the wight took full advantage, clawing the dwarf across the face with its black nails.

 Kazrack could feel the cold of the thing’s touch reach down into his very soul.  He felt shaken, as if death had cast its shadow on him for less than a moment. (4)

Helrahd continued after the zombies on the left, hacking into one with an axe, as it still tried to flee. 

The skeleton stepped forward and swung its chain at Derek, who ducked and took a swing with his battle axe at the thing’s leg.  It awkwardly, but quickly lifted it up to avoid the blow.

“_Heh-ma-na-neh-FAA!_” the undead gnoll crocked and tossed something at the bottom of the stairs where Beorth and Ratchis had begun to climb.    The half-orc stopped dead in his tracks, but the paladin sudden felt as if he were trying to walk across a puddle of molasses.   His feet slipped out from him and he fell painfully on his back, smashing his helmet on the first step.

Blodnath moved with great speed, short sword in hand to help Kazrack and Jeremy finish the wight, but the thing punched the flat of the blade knocking it out of alignment.  It also used the stump of its arms, still dribbling black blood, to throw off Belear’s blow with a warhammer, as the elder rune-thrower had also advanced.

Ratchis tried to carefully step past Beorth, but did not get far, slipping and falling with little grace.

“Good dwarven brothers, continue to guard the rear!” Martin the Green called to Golnar, Jolnar and Tolnar and he stepped forward, flicking his left hand towards the large skeleton facing off with Derek.  “_Lentus!_”

The skeleton’s movements slowed and his chain lost momentum, making it a less effective weapon.  

By this time, Kirla had made her way into the fray, with her flail in one hand and a shield in the other.  She ducked the chain, and slammed the skeleton’s femur, sending a lengthwise crack down the bone.  The undead giant teetered for a moment and then regained its balance.

Again the former lieutenant shrieked, flanked by dwarves and Jeremy it still refused to fall, and suffered another slash of Kazrack’s halberd across its chest.  A rib and the flesh around it was cut away, and the things black and unbeating heart was revealed, but still: it would not fall.  Its remaining arm backhanded the dwarf again, and again he felt the cold grip of its dark touch shake him down to the soul.

“_Flammus spheres incendius!_ the gnoll atop the monolith croaked, now speaking arcane words that Martin could barely decipher, and from his hand rolled a tiny ball of fire that puffed up to about six feet in diameter and rolled down the stairs towards Ratchis.

Derek seeing that Kirla seemed to be handling the skeletal ogre just fine by herself, took the opportunity of the undead witch-doctor’s distraction and charged up the steps.  However, the blow of his axe fell short, as he was shocked to see what had been out of view from below – two more of the undead gnolls.

“Two more undead gnolls up here!” Derek warned the others, fear tingeing his youthful tenor.

Captain Adalar hustled up to the base of the monolith between the stairs and slammed his great axe into the skeleton’s ribcage, cracking a few.

Beorth managed to roll out of the magically greased area and scrambled to his feet, but was still at the bottom of the stairs.  He watched the ball of flamed bounced down towards his half-orc companion.  Ratchis got on his hands and knees and spun himself out of the greased area, and stood.  The ball singed his matted hair, but did no real damage.

Jeremy, Blodnath and Belear were a flurry of blades and hammers as they desperate tried to cut down the wight that was draining Kazrack of his very life energy, but the thing had not lost even a bit of its agility and prowess, avoiding some blows easily and using the thick crusted over hide of his shoulders and back to absorb others.

However, Kazrack, in his fury could see and opening and plunged the heavy blade of his pole-arm into the thing’s neck.

“You may have stolen my life, but now creature, I end yours!”

“I am already dead,” the thing croaked and the crumbled into a wet mass of rotten flesh and crumbling bone.

In the meantime, Helrahd was still chasing the fleeing zombies, and Baervard followed him, swords in hand.

Captain Adalar cleaved into the shoulder of the skeletal ogre with his great axe and the thing fell into many pieces.  Kirla threw him a disappointed glance, having hoped to handle it on her own.

The first undead gnoll whirled around and reached out with a clawed hand, ripping into Derek’s stomach.  The young man felt the claws pierce him, but worse still he felt the cold reach into his body and touch his very soul.  Startled, he swung his axe down sharply, and there was a snapping sound.  He had cleaved off the thing’s left hand.

Derek’s jaw dropped as the thing howled as much as in anger as in agony.  The other two undead gnolls moved to join their companion.

“Uh, I could use some help up here!” Derek called through chattering teeth.  He could see now that these things had flanked some kind of shaft that went straight down at the rear of the stone platform.  A long flat rock like a gravestone was parallel to the front of the monolith, but behind the shaft.  In many places the flat surface of the monolith though black was stained with something darker still, blood.

Now handless, the undead gnoll barked at Derek in the gnollish tongue. (5) 

Beorth leapt up on the stairs, hoping to miss the greased area, and succeeding.  He made his up onto the monolith.

Ratchis did not follow, but positioned himself to throw one of his stones made magical by the blessing of his goddess.  It struck the undead gnoll as if it weighed fifty pounds not a few ounces, and punched a hole through its body, piercing the shoulder and shattering bone.  

The witch-doctor spun around to keep abreast of his new foes, his remaining rheumy eye spinning in its partially exposed skull beneath the mask of human skin.

Martin looked from one group to another, trying to determine what they would do next and what he should do.  He looked at Derek and Beorth flanking the flailing undead gnoll witch-doctor, and Ratchis tossing his stone.  He saw Kirla turning to charge up the right hand stairway, while Belear and some of the other dwarves moved to help Helrahd round up the Gothian zombies.

Kazrack fell to one knee, his hand on his chest, gripping his pouch of runestones and called out to his deities.  “Natan-ahb!  Judge these creatures and find them wanting!  They are lifeless husks!  Turn them from your sight!”

But the power of this place was strong and dark, and Kazrack’s faith was not strong enough to overcome it.  He bowed his head in shame. 

Jeremy charged towards the monolith, and using the platform the skeleton had been chain to as a step he leapt up and caught the lip of the stone.  He pulled himself up onto the monolith, and redrew his long sword, chopping down at the undead gnoll.  There was more cracking bone as the thing wobbled, but then pushed away.

“Somebody called?” Jeremy quipped with a wink to Derek, who smiled despite the danger.

Kirla followed by way of the stairs, and Captain Adalar was right behind her.

By now the undead gnoll shaman had backed away from Derek, while the other two moved to cut the young tracker away from the paladin, but Kirla was now arriving for support and Jeremy was in position to attack any of them.

The undead gnoll shaman leaned backward and pointed down at Ratchis and with a snarl snorted, “_Oh-ley-ah-say-fah-rah-sa-owrn!_”

Ratchis felt a spell wash over him, but it had no effect.  Firmly entrenched in his faith, no fear could ever enter his heart. (6)

The other two undead gnolls lurched at Derek, clawing at him with backward-bent broken fingers, and red glowing orbs in empty black eye sockets. They seemed to have pushed human teeth into their decayed flesh to decorate their bodies.  It was all Derek could do to keep from wretching as he swung his axe to keep them at arm’s length.

“Anubis, show this creature your righteous anger!”

Beorth swung his quarterstaff around and called upon the divine vengeance of Anubis to smite the spell-casting abomination. (7) The thing’s head popped like a melon and spattered green and gray matter across the top of the black stone.  It crumbled, its cracked head rolling into a puddle of what once had been its contents.  The jaw still moved and words croaked forth in the barking tongue. (8)

Ratchis bounded up the stairs, using his momentum to chuck another of his blessed pebbles at one of the undead gnolls.  The stone pierced the thing’s skull from the right and rear with a resounding crack, and emerged through its left eye, splattering Derek.  The thing did not fall.

Jeremy cleaved into it with his long sword, forcing it to turn to face him and move out to his left, to keep from being surrounded, as Kirla moved in to take a wide swing at the other. 

Kazrack cautiously made his way up the left staircase, while Martin braved the right.

The undead gnoll that moved away croaked some arcane words, and soon another sphere of flame was bouncing and rolling towards Ratchis.  The hulking half-orc was busy getting his sword and tried to move out its way too late.  The flames licked up his clothing, and singed his hair.  He frantically tried to pat it out as he danced to avoid the ball, which rolled back and forth in place, trying to immolate the ranger/priest.

Ratchis turned hard to his left and threw his last stone, but it went high and missed the sorcerous undead thing.

Derek deftly avoided another attack from one of the gnoll-wights, drawing the attack towards where Kirla waited, causing it to flinch and miss.  The young tracker swung his axe down at it, but since it had not committed to the attack, it was able to pull away and avoid the blow.

Beorth edged his way to his right and joined Kirla against the other undead gnoll, slamming it’s hip with the divine vengeance of his god behind the blow.  The thing’s leg crunched painfully inward, and it swayed, but stayed up.

Martin got to the top of the stairs, and put a drop of oil on his right index finger, and held a piece of flint between his ring and index finger on his left hand and watched the fight, waiting for an opening. 

Jeremy proving his constantly increasing prowess with the blade, gritted his teeth and felt the sword bite into neck of the undead gnoll spell-caster and then fly clean through.  The head flew into the air, spinning wildly before coming back down.

The remaining gnoll-wight turned and looked wildly around, seeing how Captain Adalar waited for an opening and Kazrack was just arriving.  It took off for the shaft that was at the back of the monolith, leaping up into the air to tumble down into the inky blackness beneath.  However, before it could disappear Marin spoke the final word of his spell, spinning the flint towards the oil, which grew hotter, and suddenly (and with a loud whoosh!) there appeared and arrow of flame which went hurtling at the wight.  It slammed into him and it burst into fire its shriek becoming an echoing wail that was swallowed by the shaft.

“I think I killed it,” Martin said, scratching his chin.

“Why don’t you do that all the time?” Kazrack cried, with a broad smile.  “I can put on my armor!” He went on to announce, but then his smile faded and he shuddered. (9)

Jeremy and Ratchis both looked at Kazrack like he was insane.

“They are not all dealt with yet,” Beorth snapped.  “There are still zombies that the others were chasing.”

Ratchis’ face had looked for a second like he might crack a smile as well, but Beorth’s words fell heavily on him and he took off down the steps.  Kazrack was right behind him. 

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders and went after them, but Derek just sank to the floor, sighing loudly.

“I don’t feel so right,” the young man said.

Soon, all the zombies were accounted for and the rotting corpses were dragged back to large pile in front of the monolith, where Beorth covered them with oil while praying aloud to his god; soon, the bodies were a bonfire against the coming night.

Martin and Kazrack stood at the top of the shaft, looking down into the darkness.

“It goes further than I can see,” said the half-ord.

“That means it goes deep into the ground then,” Martin replied.  “I don’t think we want to go down there.”

“Well, I think we need to find a way,” Ratchis said, noting that the stone was scraped and notched in three points around the shaft.  He speculated there must have once been some device for lowering things.  It was long gone.

Near the right stairway, Belear was speaking with Derek and Kazrack, while Beorth looked on.

”Those creatures are called ‘wights’ in the tongue of men.  We dwarves do not speak our names for such things aloud. A wight is a man of evil whose very evilness and stubborn will brings them back, either that or they are made by other wights.”

“Surely it does not happen to dwarves,” Kazrack said.

“I wish it would be so,” Belear replied, looking down. “The first day shall be hard, but then it shall be seen whether your spirits can overcome their infection by the darkness of negative energy.”

“I must pray,” Kazrack said, walking off to be alone at one corner of the monolith.

“Hey, Pigger, see anything down there?” Helrahd called to Ratchis, as he walked over.

“What did you call me?”  Ratchis stood up to his full height.

“Heh,” Helrahd licked his teeth and spit.  “Suttin’ wrong with your ears?  You sayin’ you ain’t?”

Now it was Ratchis’ turn to spit.  Martin looked nervously from the dwarf to the half-orc, sweat beading on his brow.  The watch-mage looked over to where Beorth stood hoping he could get his attention.

Helrahd snorted, “What? It makes you strong right?  Must be okay.  It’s not like I called you a goblin.”

“Let’s lower a rope down there,” Ratchis said, turning to Martin and ignoring the dwarf.  “We’ll tie a lantern to the end.”

*End of Session #40* 

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

(1) Kazrack cast _Protection from Evil_
(2) In Dwarven culture, a group of dwarves of the same lineage can be called collectively or individually by their family or clan name.
(3) Ratchis cast _magic stone_.
(4) Kazrack was _energy drained_, gaining a negative level.
(5) It said, “_I will make you my slave_.
(6) Friars of Nephthys as immune to all _fear_ effects.
(7) Monks of Anubis gain the ability to call down _divine vengeance_ instead of the ability to remove disease.  This allows them to use a turning attempt to deal an additional 2d6 of damage to undead.  At each level that they would gain an additional casting of remove disease, they gain one additional turning attempt per day.
(8) Had anyone spoken the gnoll tongue they would have known that it said, “_…the Shadows will take you soon.”_  The emphasis on the third inward snort after the sixth snarl would have indicated that the word “shadow” was being used as a proper noun, or at least the gnollish equivalent of one one; something regarding special attention or being unique. 
(9) Kazrack had made an oath to Krauchaar to refrain from wearing armor until he had fulfilled what he thought was a blow worthy of his place as warrior and protector.


----------



## el-remmen

*Preview. . .*

*NEXT TIME IN ANOTHER BRAIN-RATTLING INSTALLMENT OF…*

*THE ADVENTURES OF THE FEARLESS MANTICORE KILLERS AND THE NECROPOLIS OF DOOM*


> _The party begins to explore the entrance to what the do not yet suspect is a NECROPOLIS OF DOOM. . . _


----------



## Manzanita

Can't wait for the next one!


----------



## Pillars of Hercules

*Nemm this rawks!*

Nemm, this rawks!  I know I'm just repeating the subject line, but, hey, what else can I say?


----------



## Felix

Oh, nemm, if you don't see me on the boards, its because of the darkness I lurk in while reading threads. 

I, like Trogdor, come in the night.

Great update.


----------



## el-remmen

[redacted]


----------



## Ratchis

*Finally. . .*

Hey all. . .

I finally began to re-post The Story of Ratchis my sixty-odd page character background.

Enjoy.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #41 (part I)*

*Session #41*

Part One: The Descent Begins…

“Something happened,” Ratchis said, feeling the rope jerk and hearing the crunch of metal echo up from deep down in the pit.  He had already lowered the lantern on the end of the rope over fifty feet and there was no bottom to be felt.  He was able to notice however that thirty feet below the area expanded either into a room, or the shaft itself became wider.

The half-orc pulled what was left of the lantern up.  The metal was twisted and the glass was broken, the lamp oil had all spilled out.

“There goes yet another lantern,” Martin sighed.

Ratchis looked over at him annoyed.  

“We’ll make do,” the ranger grunted.

“There used to be some kind of something built over this shaft,” Helrahd said, and hawked something green and yellow down into it.

Martin cringed.

Blodnath snorted his agreement with the red-haired dwarven scout, and pointed to scuffs in the stone, “Something was bolted at three points over this shaft, probably a winch mechanism of some kind for lowering things…”

“Or bringing things up,” Martin suggested.

The balding white-haired dwarf glared at the watch-mage.  He placed a stone sliver he carried behind his ear in his mouth, and moved it back and forth with his tongue.

“We can rig something up so one or more of us can get lowered down easy,” Blodnath continued. He looked to the silent brown-haired dwarf behind him.  “Ain’t that right, Baervard?”

The dwarf did not nod.

“Yeah,” Helrahd spit again. “We’ll take care of it.”

“I’m going down first,” Ratchis demanded.

“I don’t think many folks are gonna argue with ya,” Blodnath sneered, and set to getting the ropes with Helrahd and Baervard.

Soon, Beorth, Derek and Kazrack returned from having searched the perimeter of the monolith and the nearby area for some other way in whatever structure lay beneath.  They had no luck.

“There could be some other entrance miles away if it is some kind of cave system,” Derek said.

“This is the only one we have.  This is the one we are going to use,” Beorth said.

“We will be so vulnerable getting down there,” Martin said.  “Whoever is on the ropes is at the mercy of whatever might be down there.”

“That’s why I’m going down first,” Ratchis repeated for the benefit of the newly arrived companions.

Helrahd snickered from ten feet away.

“And I’m going with you,” Beorth said.

“And we will send one of our number who is a good climber,” Captain Adalar said, stepping into the conversation.

“Why do we have to go down there at all?” Jeremy asked.  He had his arms around his body as a cold wind brushed past them and swirled up the ash around them into miniature black cyclones.  “We don’t know what is down there and whether it has anything to do with the gnomes.”

“The wight came here and he was under the control of the gnomes,” Kazrack said. “This could be their secret lair or something.  It is certainly foul enough.”

“The boy might be right, however,” Now it was Belear’s turn to chime in.  “The wight was not in control of the necromancer gnome once he was killed, but he came here anyway.  He wasn’t sent here for all we know.  This could be a time consuming sidetrack while our true goal is back in Garvan.”

Captain Adalar who moments before was ready to go down and explore, now carefully considered the elder priest’s words, “That could be true.  Perhaps a more direct approach would be better than a delve into a dangerous and potentially irrelevant place.  We do have time constraints.  We came to aid the gnomes, but we do want to return to our people and give the news of the drow and aid them against the bear-men beasts.”

“Quaggoths,” Martin said.  All the dwarves but Belear and Kazrack turned and glared at the watch-mage, who looked down.

“On the other hand,” Kazrack said, rubbing his chin.  “There may be a tool, weapon or information in this place we can use against the fiends if this place is theirs, or once was theirs.”

Beorth nodded.

“You speak wisely,” Belear intoned. 

“We explore it some and then come to a decision if it is necessary for us to continue,” Ratchis offered.

“This a foul place, where the darkness of evil reigns.   I cannot leave here without attempting to destroy it,” Beorth said.  “I can sense it from the very stone. I can smell it emanating from the pit.”

“That’s called rot,” Jeremy said, and he turned away, to watch for anyone or anything approaching as Blodnath called them over to the pit’s edge.  

Derek followed the Neergaardian, and patted him on the back warmly, but he did not say a word.

Blodnath talked them through getting the rope harnesses he rigged up on.  At the end of the rope were one large loop and two smaller ones askew from it, allowing someone to slip the rope around the waist and then put each leg through a smaller loop.  As a person was lowered down, they need only steady themselves with the rope, and did not have to hold on.  Two of the ropes were tied and looped around the statues, and a third around the headstone type flat stone at the top of the shaft for the third, and using pitons hammered into the stone as levers on the rope.

Ratchis was sent first.

The half-orc descended into the darkness of the shaft.  He could see with the vision granted him by his sub-human lineage, but the glare of the sun from above still put a strange sheen on his vision and he found himself squinting.  He looked up to see Baervard being lowered quickly after him.

They had worked out a system of tugs on the rope that told those doing the lowering when to stop, go up or continue down.  And as the ten-foot shaft opened on either side of Ratchis, he tugged once meaning stop, as he just came into view of the area.  The shaft continued down further than he could see with his darkvision.

Just where the shaft opened there was kind of shelf all around him.  It was a round level ringed with a low wall and holding four large stone sarcophagi.  He could see some kind of masks hanging from the spaces between the sarcophagi on the wall.

Ratchis slowly turned and surveyed the first level of the shaft, as Baervard was lowered even with him.

Baervard grunted and pointed down, and Ratchis looked in time to see two strange figures floating up towards them in the darkness.  They were like wavering slices of shadow only visible where they crossed the meager light gleaming down from above, and thin slits of red glowing eyes.

They split from one another and swooped at both Ratchis and Barevard, but perhaps they were playing with this bait being lowered two them, because they missed.

“Undead shades!” Ratchis hollered up the shaft as he swung his long sword with one hand and steadied himself on the rope with the other.  The thing easily flew out of his range, but it flicked a shadowy finger as it passed again, and Ratchis felt its cold touch cut him to the bone.  He could feel his muscles cramp up as if they were slowly atrophying.

Baervard stabbed at the one that dogged him with a short sword, but his blow was ineffective, slipping through the thing as if it were not there.

Above, Beorth leaped out of the harness he was being helped into and ran over to Ratchis’ rope which was being held by Golnar, Tolnar and Jolnar.

“Pull him up!  Pull him up!” the paladin cried, grabbing the front of the rope and starting.  

“But he didn’t tug the rope,” complained Jolnar.

Kazrack looked down the shaft and called to his gods, “Lords and Ladies, please come to me and allow me to emit your divine will to force these creatures to flee from your sight!”

The shadow attacking Baervard took off in a straight line down into the darkness of the shaft, but the lower one still dogged Ratchis, and reached out and touched him easily as he spun on the rope, trying to fend it off.  Again, he felt that deep cold down to his bone and soul, and his muscles shriveled even more.  The rope began to burn his hand.

“Pull him up now!” Beorth commanded, and Captain Adalar nodded with a guttural bark and pointed.  The paladin and the three young dwarves began to pull them up.

The half-orc jerked upward as the creature took another swipe at him and it missed. 

Jeremy and Kirla began to quickly and smoothly pull up Baervard.

“Nephthys!  Send this dark thing from my sight until such time that I can free it from the curse of unlife!” Ratchis cried, clutching his belt of bent, scored and broken chain links.   The shadow fled down into the darkness of the shaft.

The two spelunkers were pulled all the way back to the top.

“This is too dangerous,” Ratchis said.  “We need a better plan to handle this and we are weak from our fight.”

“We should leave these dead lands and make a camp and rest some,” Martin suggested.  “We _are_ all injured and some of us are suffering deeper wounds.”  The watch-mage looked from Kazrack to Derek.

“Why not just camp here?” Kazrack asked.  No one seemed to pay him any attention.

“I am loathe to leave this place and its undead to walk the world of the living for even one more night,” Beorth said without emotion.  “Even if it is at the bottom of some pit.”

“Are you sure you’ve lost your memory?” Jeremy asked.

Beorth sneered.

“We cannot hope to succeed in our current condition and without a way of handling those shadow-creatures,” Belear offered.  

Ratchis snorted his agreement, and soon the Fearless Manticore Killers and their dwarven allies were marching back across the ash that roiled up and burned their lungs and eyes.

The sun was an orange sliver ahead of them, as they got back to the embankment and climbed up panting and faces black with soot.  They made camp.

Watches were set and a cold night fell.

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

It was decided that the next day would be taken doing nothing but resting.   As the day waned, both Derek and Kazrack felt the weakness of the life drained from them make their bones aches and the spirit wither.  Each fought a battle with that darkness within them, but while Derek overcame his peril, Kazrack felt the bite of shadow deep within himself.  The darkness did not leave him, and the worry of doubt took up a space in his mind and in his faith and spirit. (1)  He walked off to pray alone.


*Tholem, 11th of Prem, 565 H.E.*

As the previous day had been hot and the night had been cold, so again was the next day unusually hot.  The sun seemed to press down on them as if to smother them with palpable heat.  The air was so dry, their eyes stung them even before they began to march out across the acrid ash again, amid the tall often conical stone pillars.

In an hour’s time they were back at the monolith that marked the entrance to whatever subterranean tomb they had stumbled upon.  They rubbed their burning eyes and wheezed, preferring the shards of bone to walk upon to the black ash.

It was deathly quiet, and the rotting remains of already rotting undead baked in the uncharacteristic early morning heat for this early spring morning.  The ropes remained undisturbed, still coiled neatly by each stone they were anchored to.  Soon, Ratchis, Kazrack and Beorth were putting on the harnesses to be lowered down.  

Jeremy handed the _Right Blade of Arofel_ to Beorth.

“Take care of her,” the Neergaardian said with a melodramatic smile.

“It’s a she?” Beorth asked, quizzically, it seemed amnesia had the same affect on his curious and sheltered nature as having been raised in a monastery had.

“It’s a sword,” Jeremy replied.

Ratchis and Kazrack both called upon their gods to enchant their weapons, and Ratchis went one step further and cast _light_ upon his longsword as well.

They had not been long hanging in the darkness of the shaft, when Ratchis’ keen eyes spotted one of those shadowy undead creature swooping towards Beorth.

The half-orc reacted quickly and pulled belt of scored, twisted and broken chain links from around his waist and spun with all his strength.

“Nephthys, let you divine light send this thing away so we may penetrate the mystery of this tainted place!”

The show of divine power was too much for the thing and it fled back down the shaft.

“That will give us some time,” Ratchis said, turning to the others.

When they again arrived at the point where the shaft opened and revealed the ledge, Karack was able to shift his weight and begin to swing.  He grabbed the stone ledge and pulled himself over the low wall.

Beorth tried to emulate the dwarf, but his lack of physical grace caused him some troubles and soon he was swinging back and forth wildly and spinning out of control.  Above, Jeremy, Helrahd and Derek cursed and the rope twisted and burned in the hands.

“All those years of training and I end up a damned pulley operator,” Jeremy quipped.

It took Ratchis two tries to grab the ledge, but soon he was over as well, holding out Kazrack’s light flail for Beorth to grab on to, as he straddled the low wall and held on to a narrow stone support.   Feeling more embarrassed than dizzy, Beorth was soon on the ledge as well.

The walked around the ledge, trailing their ropes behind them and pulling for slack, while trying to be careful not to tangle themselves up too much.

The sarcophagi were large, and a thick stone lid covered in etched runes covered each one.  They were so long, there was barely a foot of space on either side of them on the ledge, as they pointed from head to foot in towards the shaft. 

Beorth examined the runes, but did not recognize them.  Nor, did Kazrack.

The floor of the ledge and the tops of the sarcophagi were thick with dust.  It did not look as if anyone had stepped here in years and years.  Kazrack pointed out some masks he found hanging about five feet high on the wall.  There were four of them and they hung between pair of sarcophagi.  They were a deep rust color and lacquered, and they had snouts like a gnoll’s, each with a different expression.  One was bearing its teeth and seemed to be angrily growling.  One had down cast eyes, and the snout was turned to the left, as if the turned away from whomever it was facing with a look of docility and fear.   The snout of the third was scrunched and twisted, and the face was one that suggested pain, while the fourth was expressionless.


Beorth covered his eyes with his right hand and reached out woth his left, stretching out his senses to detect the presence of evil from the masks or sarcophagi, but except for the palpable sense of evil he could feel all around them, the objects did not seem to be tainted with darkness.   

Kazrack called to Lehrathonar to allow him to sense dweomers – but there were none to be seen, except for the glow of Ratchis’ boots and white prayer shawl draped over Beorth’s shoulders. (2)

They disentangled themselves and gave the sharp double yank, causing those above to pull up the slack and yank the spelunkers up over the ledge wall and to swing back and forth in the pit.  They swung there for a few moments, and then gave the signal to continue their descent.  

It was only twenty more feet before they came to another ledge.  This one also had a low wall, and had sarcophagi, but these were rectangular, though made of the same stone.  However, they could see the lids on some were cracked.

Again, Kazrack easily maneuvered himself into a swinging arc to grab the ledge and climb over.   Beorth also had an easier time of it, but Ratchis spun wildly for several moments.   Ratchis glared at his companions who seemed to be ignoring him every time he spun round and saw them.  Beorth and Kazrack took to looking around.  There were more lacquered gnoll-face masks.  Beorth noticed the angry one was hung crookedly on the wall.

“Maybe I should fix it,” Beorth suggested to Kazrack, but the dwarf did not hear.  He had just notice that three narrow stone stairs led down to a lower ledge, and there was some clinking of metal and footsteps coming up one that was nearby.

Ratchis was finally able to steady himself on the spinning rope as those above swore in the terrible sun, but Kazrack did not notice.  The dwarf yelled out, “Look!”

A figure ascended the final step.  It was a skeletal figure dressed in ring mail armor and dressed in torn and filthy burgundy tabard that had some heraldry ripped from it.  It held a long sword in one bony hand, but as it rose it pointed and finger and spoke a muttered word.  Arrows of black light exploded from the creature’s finger and went racing towards Kazrack in a blink’s time.

The dwarf cried out as he felt a deep cold reminiscent of the wight’s touch, but just a shadow of that shadow.  He staggered forward, swinging his flail and smashing the thing in the shoulder.  It did not cry out.  It’s only sound was the clinking of its armor and the cracking and stretching of leathery tendons.

Beorth turned as he saw a second one emerge from another stairway, to point at him and send two the cold arrows rocketing into his chest.

Ratchis finally grabbed the lip of the ledge wall only to feel the sharp cut of a long sword blade across his forearm.  He yanked his arm back and rolled over the wall an onto his feet cursing under his breath.   He had his long sword in his hand.

“Anubis, using be as a vessel to fill with your divine might and send these creatures from here so we may better purge this place of evil,” Beorth cried, and a wave of positive energy erupted from him, and his white shawl began to glow, filling the ledge with pure white light. 

The creature hanging over Ratchis turned and the half-orc took his opportunity to cleave into its hip bone.  It wobbled, but continued to hurry away towards the staircase it had emerged from.  The one that had attacked Beorth also fled and the paladin thrust his sword through its rib cage as it turned, but Kazrack found himself barely deflecting a sword blow from the first.  The shock went down and numbed his arm for a moment. (3) 

However, the dwarf did not despair, he swung his flail with all his might, slamming the thing in the thigh-bone.  There was a cracking sound as it fell to its knees, awkwardly.

Ratchis slipped out of his harness and stuffed it into a crack on a sarcophagus lid.  He hurried over to aid Kazrack, who was amazed that he missed as he swung at the skeleton’s head, but it leaned forward, essentially ducking as it came back up to its feet.  Ratchis came up alongside his dwarven companion and thrust his sword into the thing, but there was no chip or crack of bone.  He had pierced the armor, but there was no flesh underneath. (4)

The thing pulled away from him and turned to go down the stairs, but with a quick flick of his meaty wrist, Ratchis cracked the thing’s helmeted skull and it tumbled in a jumbled of bones and armor down the stone steps.


“We must go down and finish them,” Beorth said, sliding from his harness and frowning when he saw where Ratchis had put his.

“Wait, that last one wasn’t turned,” Ratchis said. “It was only trying to draw us down there.”

The half-orc lit a torch and handed it to Beorth. 

Kazrack had a puzzled look of growing horror on his face.

“What is it?” Ratchis asked, the spell on his sword glaring in the half-orc’s face.

“Nothing.  I…uh, thought I heard something…”

Ratchis put a finger to his lips and crept over to a stairway.  He crouched down and looked and could see one of the minions at the bottom of the stair, cringing.  By moving over to another stairway he could see the other doing a similar thing.  Just to be same, he slunk over to the third staircase and looked down.  There was something small and gray that seemed to crawl just out of his field of vision as he crouched.

The Friar of Nephthys went back to his companions and placed a finger to his thin brown lips again.  He quietly prayed to his goddess for her healing blessing, closing the wound on his forearm.

He pointed to Beorth’s harness and grabbed his own and slipped it on.  He gestured down to the pit, and moved to the ledge wall.  Beorth slipped his back on and Kazrack walked over still looking pale.  As they clambered over the wall hoping to swing down and surprise, Kazrack heard the sound again.  

This time they all heard it.  It was the muffled and cracking sound of a baby’s cry, echoing from deep down in the darkness of the pit.

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

(1) *DM’s Note:* Kazrack permanently lost two levels from the encounter with the gnoll-wight-witch-doctor. (See  Session #40)

(2) *The Shawl of Estes* was a gift from the party’s sometime nemesis/sometime benefactor Richard the Red.  Beorth does not know of its history or importance due his amnesia brought on by a pixie’s curse for killing one of their kind.

(3) *DM’s Note:* Not every hit a character takes for hit point need to be described as drawing blood.   Bruises, twists, dizziness, fatigue and a whole other little details can be used to relay the loss of energy as one engages in melee.  Of course, blood is good too.

(4) *DM’s Note:* Not every miss completely misses the target.  I often describe armor absorbing damage or a foe parrying a blow or other similar things to keep combat lively and fresh.


----------



## handforged

wow, Nemm.  Another great update.  I really can't wait to see what happens as they descend.  With your world being as deadly as it is, this cannot be good for the FMKs.  I hope that it wasn't as deadly as I fear it was.

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

*Predictions. . .*

First, *the good news* - expect another update sometime this weekend - maybe even tomorrow.

*The bad news*:  Right now in the story there are 6 pcs and 9 npcs trying to gain access to this place.  Not everyone is going to make it back out. .  . Shall we start the predictions? 

Also, this "adventure" is long done and gone (remember, I am 17 sessions behind) so feel free to make whatever speculation you like on what is happening, what this place is and what the FEARLESS MANTICORE KILLERS (or the FMK) might face?


----------



## Pillars of Hercules

*Kazrack*

No clue who won't make it out, but if I have to guess, and if that guess has to be a PC, I'm going with Kazrack.

Why?  His player seems to have just gotten over his "death wish" phase, and there's nothing to bring the dice gods down on you like suddenly deciding that you want to live after all.


----------



## el-remmen

*end of session #41*

*Session #41*

Part Two: An aborted Descent…

The trio of heroes swung down with anger, trying to ignore the disturbing cry below which now faded into their cries.  

Ratchis brought his feet deftly down on the low wall that marked the lower ledge, and though he teetered for a moment, he kept his footing, slipping his chain belt from his waist to call on Nephthys’ power.  

Beorth’s boots struck the low wall and the paladin went flying back, twisting and spinning wildly.  Above, Jeremy, Helrahd and Derek cursed under their breaths as their hands burned with the twisting jerking rope.

Kazrack was dropped too far and he slid past the lower ledge, where the shaft continued downward.  He looked back up at his companions as he passed them, crying out, “No! No! Too Low!” 

Ratchis jumped down from the wall, spotting one of the skeletal guardians moving towards him from the left, while another mover around a sarcophagus to take aim at Beorth’s spinning form.  This level like the previous had the rectangular stone coffins, but no masks.

“Nephthys, please heed me and send my foes away,” Ratchis cried, spinning his chain, but the guardian on the right fired two of those bolts of black light at the helpless paladin.   Only the tiny figure on the floor moved away from the half-orc priest.  He saw it move at the bottom of his vision, so he tipped his head to get a better look before it disappeared behind a sarcophagus.  

It was a baby. 

But its skin had gray tone with no luster, and its little big head was split open down the front and raw with gore, fragments of skull sticking out.    It dragged one little broken leg, the bone sticking out the side of his chubby thigh behind it. 


But its skin had gray tone with no luster, and its little big head was split open down the front and raw with gore, fragments of bone sticking out.    It dragged on little broken leg, the bone sticking out the side of his chubby leg behind it. 

Ratchis gagged, as noticed the already protruding jaw, the black coarse hair and the ridge of bone down its back.  There was no doubt it had orcish blood.

Meanwhile, Kazrack took moment of hanging too low to help to look further down the shaft, as a shuffling and murmuring sound drew his attention.  He could see that the shaft ended only twenty feet below this last ledge, but what was down there horrified him.

The bottom of the shaft was filled with the blank and rotten faces of babies struggling to look up at him.  They crawled over each other’s sore-covered leathery flesh, their exaggerated jaws salivating; their little hands, most missing fingernails, some still having them twisted back and protruding from the dead flesh they punctured, reaching up to Kazrack as they took notice of him.   The dead babies bubbled like a cauldron of pure horror.  The dwarven rune-thrower could see that the babies were several feet deep, crawling over each other and pushing others down blindly in their vain attempt to reach him.  A handful of emaciated rats crawled in and out of the pile of tiny bodies nibbling on filmy eyes and tiny tender ears and toes, squeaking delightedly. 

Suddenly, one of the babies cried out that halting cry of hungry baby, and another took it up and then another, until they roiled and cried in a cacophony that rose up the shaft.

“What the hell is that?” Helrahd asked aloud.

Derek felt a chill wash over him and he shivered though he was covered in sweat.  

Golnar, Tolnar and Jolnar were having trouble interpreting the jerks on their rope, which Kazrack hung from.   

Captain Adalar walked over. “Play it safe.  Pull him up.”

Below Kazrack began to scream, “By the gods!  The babies are demons!  Pull us up!  Pull us all up!”

There was a final hard jerk and Kazrack dropped closer to the pit of zombie infants, but then he began to rise smoothly up.

He was in time to see the second skeleton guard, side-step to avoid Ratchis and fire two more of the dark bolts at Beorth.

 The paladin tried to keep his calm, even as he was buffeted by the necromantic bolts, and he did not cry out.  He reached out pathetically to press a hand against a support and steady himself, but he failed.

“You fools!  Ascend!  Flee!” Kazrack cried passing them on the way back up.  He looked up to the top of the shaft and cupped his hands over his mouth.  “Pull us all up!” 

The armored skeleton turned back to Ratchis, and swung its sword at him only to have it blocked by the half-orc’s own sword, which threw off crazy shadows of the thing as he parried its blows.

“Beorth!  D’naar!  Fall back!” Kazrack was quickly being pulled into the darkness above.

Ratchis tried to move in such a way to put the sarcophagus between him and the undead guardian, but he over-extended him and the thing took the opportunity to swing, nicking the leaping priest in the thigh.   The wound burned, and Ratchis could feel a sheet of blood rush down his leg as he grunted angrily.

But the dark-cloaked undead warrior did not concern the friar of Nephthys and woodsman.  It was the enslaved remains of an infant, trying to crawl into the wall to get away from him.  It repeatedly smashed its already split head into the wall, gurgling.

“Nephthys, forgive me,” Ratchis whispered.  His vision was fractured for a moment by a swollen tear, but then he brought his sword down on its little head, cleaving it oven all the way down to its stomach, which exploded into hundreds of tiny insects that scurried into all directions.

Beorth was finally able to steady himself in time to see Ratchis dive off the ledge wall.  He bounced twice, as Baervard, Blodnath and Kirla groaned.  The half-orc jerked the rope twice, so the paladin did the same.  In a moment, they were being pulled up.  But the skeletal guards walked to the edge and pointing up murmured their arcane words and fired more of the black bolts at Beorth.  He felt cold and weak, and bruises swelled up painfully wherever the things had struck him. (1) 

Ratchis reached into his bag and pulled out a flask of oil he had prepared with a strip of oil-soaked cloth and he lit it off of Beorth’s torch and tossed it down. 

It exploded and one of the guardians shuffled back and screeched. 

He lit another and dropped it straight down on the zombie babies, for a moment there was a flash that allowed him to see the crawling bodies twist and roll as they were engulfed in the splattering burning oil.   The wail rose in intensity, and the smell of burning flesh rose with it.  The scorched babies were swallowed and smothered in the ceaseless and futile crawling of the others, the flames going out as they were sucked down.  

And there was darkness again, from which the murmuring and crying emerged.

Soon, all three of the adventurers were back at the surface; the top of the black stone monolith with the others.

Kazrack was laying on his back on the black stone, covering his eyes with his hands, the rope harness still around his legs and waist.

Ratchis fell to one knee and began to pray quietly to Nephthys, while Beorth simply stood head bowed silently.

“Was it really that bad?” Jeremy asked, cautiously.

“Yes,” Kazrack replied.  “There are horrors down there.”

“This is truly a terrible terrible place,” Beorth added.  

“It doesn’t make any sense, how did all those… _babies_ get down there?” Kazrack said, sitting up.

Martin blanched.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ratchis said, standing.  “We’re going to put them all to rest and destroy this place.”

There was a long silence.

“It doesn’t matter if it has anything to do with the gnomes or not,” the half-orc added with a barking tone.  “Though I am sure it does.”

Beorth nodded in agreement.

“Let us just hope our delay here does not mean more gnomish lives will be lost,” Belear said.

“And what of Ephraim?” Derek asked.  “We have to warn the gnomes that the Gothanians might mistakenly try to make war on them.” (2)

“It will take him some time to get to Twelve Trolls (3) and deliver his message, and even if the King decided to use force, Gothanius has not standing army.  It will take time to gather and organize the militia,” Martin explained.

“It is a long walk back, and I am still weakened from our encounter with the shadow yesterday, as are we all wounded,’ Ratchis said.  “Let’s us go back and camp for the night and return in the morning.”

“I am loathe to leave this place unrazed,” Beorth said, with a bit of visible frustration.

“And patience will all allow you to see it razed,” said Belear quietly.  “The half-breed speaks wisely.  Let us return to the edge of this dead land and camp again to regain our strength, now that we know the true horrors that await us below.”

So again they secured the ropes and hefted their gear and began the long march back to the dimpled scrubland that they camped at. 

“And tomorrow, let’s figure out a better way of determining who holds which ropes,” Jeremy announced, but no one reacted to his comment.

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

The sun bobbed up and down out of view behind the lip of the huge crater this dead land was in as they walked towards it.   The long shadows of the stone pillars crossed diagonally across their path, making it even darker.  

The sound of their boots crunching in the black ash and the occasional cough were the only sounds.  Derek found it unnerving and pulled his cloak closer around his shoulders and looked around.  He hated that there were no animal sounds, no sound of wind in reeds or branches; it was unnatural.

Derek’s eye was struck by movement across a narrow band of light coming between two narrow pillars.  He turned his head to see a humanoid figure made of shadow emerging from the blackness and swooping at him.

He ducked and cried out.  The rest of the troop was ahead of him and they all stopped and turned in time to see it fly up and turn for another pass.  Ratchis came charging from what had been the front of the group, and Golnar, Jolnar and Tolnar who were closest, pulled out their respective weapons.

“There might be more!” Derek warned, worried that everyone was now looking in his direction as opposed to looking for another attack.

Martin the Green turned to watch the front.

The shadow flew down without effort, drifting like a leaf and ran a cold finger across Derek’s face.  The young man moaned as his muscles sagged and drooped as if meat had been sucked from his arms and legs.  He felt the weight of pack and his armor much more heavily.

“Krauchaar, bless my weapon!” Captain Adalar cried out, hefting his great axe into the air, and for a moment the blade shone with divine light. (4)

Golnar charged at the incorporeal undead as it moved to drift past Derek.  He was over-enthusiastic, however, and fumbled the warhammer as he hefted it over his head and it went flying back, landing at his brothers’ feet.

Martin cried out as another shadow swooped at him, emerging from around the base of a large pillar.

“Martin! What are you doing?  Put your back to something!” Jeremy cried out, drawing the Right Blade of Arofel and running to the front of the group, placing himself between the watch-mage and the undead thing.

Tolnar fired his crossbow at the one dogging Derek, but the bolt flew right through it.

“We must retreat from these things!” the young dwarf cried out, fear in his voice.

Kiral harrumphed and charged as well, but the head of her flail also went through the thing.  She looked at her weapon with puzzlement.

“Anubis!  Send these things away so we may destroy them in your name when we have regained our strength!” Beorth cried out, clutching the silver jackal’s head around his neck.  There was a wave of positive energy and the shadows screeched and took off straight into the air and the inkiness of the falling night.

They all let out deep breaths and then wordlessly fell back into formation and hustled back to the site of their former campsite.

They were all silent as they set up their tents and unpacked their bedrolls and lit small fires with what was left of the tinder they had brought with them.  They spoke the fewest words possible to arrange watches, and soon the only sound was the snoring of the dwarves and Ratchis.

The night passed without event, but the next morning both Ratchis and Derek still felt the weakness in their limbs, and the priests in the group spread around their healing, along with Ratchis’ use of _Lesser Restoration_ on Derek.  The rest of the day was spent in rest and idle speculation of what might be found even deeper in the place they had uncovered.

“I just don’t understand how so many babies, half-orc babies could be in the same place at the same time,” Kazrack mused aloud.

“I cannot even begin to conceive of how such a thing is possible,” Ratchis replied solemnly.

“Soon their souls will be at rest,” Beorth commented.

“But for now, how about we rest some more?” Jeremy said, crawling into a tent.

The next morning they’d march back to the monolith.

*End of Session #41*





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

(1) *DM’s Note:* These were simply _magic missiles_ with different flavor text to make them seem like the tools of an undead creature.  These skeleton guards were simply adapted Baneguards from _Monsters of Faerun_.

(2) Ephraim was the only survivor of a mercenary expeditionary force sent to explore the area north of Greenreed Valley for further expansion of the Kingdom of Gothanius.  He claimed tall of his companions were killed by gnomes that used magic and undead.  (see session #39)

(3) Twelve Trolls is the capitol of the Kingdom of Gothanius, named so because it was built on the site of the Battle of the Twelve Trolls – where human and dwarven forces called a truce long enough to battle a fierce group of powerful trolls led by the Troll King Frojack.

(4) *DM’s Note:* Captain Adalar cast _Magic Weapon_


----------



## Martin Olarin

Pillars of Hercules said:
			
		

> *His player seems to have just gotten over his "death wish" phase...*




As the player of Kazrack all I can do is give a sigh of resignation over this perception of his actions.


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

"As the player of Kazrack all I can do is give a sigh of resignation over this perception of his actions."

If it makes you feel any better, other readers percieve Kazrack's decision's to be based around really really good roleplaying, and admire a player/group that can actively anti-metagame for the good of their character's development.
</suckup>

No really, I do admire what you've been doing! I encourage the same amongst my players.


----------



## Manzanita

Great update there.  Nemmerle is not afraid to be gross.  I like it. 

Nemm, have there been any clues as to who is going to die?  Probably not, since death in RPGs tends to be the result of individual encounters, as opposed to "fate".  I like games with a bit of body count.  They seem more realistic.  Personally, If someone's going to die, I hope it's Beorth.  He's already a bit screwed up since he lost his memory, so it might be nice for his player to start afresh.  Or maybe Kazrack, since he's just lost two levels & I don't see when he'll get them back.  Just don't kill Ratchis, Martin or Jeremy!


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## el-remmen

*eh?*

I was certain that a friggin' writhing pile of  infant zombie half-orcs would prevoke more of a response. . .


----------



## Pillars of Hercules

*Two replies*

First, to Martin Olarin - I agree that Kazrack's actions were good roleplaying, and enjoyed the results (such as the period during which Martin was surreptitiously casting defensive spells on Kazrack).  My comment was tongue-in-cheek and I meant no offense.

Second, to Nemm - the babies were horrific.  The concept is evil enough, but the rats and insects feeding on and living in the undead flesh really upped the ghoul factor.


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## Jon Potter

*Re: eh?*



			
				nemmerle said:
			
		

> *I was certain that a friggin' writhing pile of  infant zombie half-orcs would prevoke more of a response. . .   *




What do you mean? All of my games include undead babies.  

If I was Ratchis, I'd be wondering what those gnolls have in mind for my forced progeny. But maybe I'm seeing conspiracies where none exist.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #42*

*Session #42*

Session #42: In which the party finally makes progress at gaining a foothold in the Necropolis of Doom…

*Teflem, the 13th of Prem – 564 H.E.*

It was not until noon that they reach the monolith again.  The Ra’s Glory hung at its apex, a chariot racing over a blue hill, and cast off heat without mercy.  The march back and forth was several hours, and the ash was unrelenting.  After days of breathing it in, they all felt a weight in their chests and their throats were raw and hurt when they swallowed.  Jeremy had torn the bottom off his cloak and made a scarf that he kept wrapped around his nose and mouth.  The torn ends billowed in the breeze.

The day before they had discussed strategies and argued about priorities…

“If we are to get a foothold in that place from which to explore the rest of it we must destroy the shadows first,” Beorth said, he had already expressed his belief that there was much more to the place that had not yet been discovered.

“I think it is obvious from our encounters thus far that we are incapable of destroying these shadows with the power of our gods, for we are too weak of vessels,” Belear intoned.

“Well, we can drive them away, but I do not think that will be enough,” Beorth said.  “We cannot hope to uncover whatever it is about this place with those things dogging us and draining our very strength.

“Perhaps this will take too much time,” Captain Adalar started up on a topic he had brought up repeatedly since they had arrived at these dead lands.  “Let us leave this until after we have dealt with the gnomes.”

“I do not think we can leave this,” Ratchis said.  “What if something happens to us when we fight the gnomes?  This is an evil place and needs to be dealt with.”

“I cannot let this lie,” added Beorth.

“And what if something happens to us here?  Who will help the gnomes?” Martin asked.

No one had an answer.  In the end the final decision was left to Kazrack as he represented a member of the opposed groups as to the course of action.  

“We explore this place some more,” he said, after weighing it carefully for a few moments. “Lehrathonar sometimes hides his secret lore in strange places.”

Belear nodded gravely.  Captain Adalar accepted the decision without a word.

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

And now Kazrack, Beorth and Ratchis were being lower into the shaft again.  The ropes cracked and wheezed, as it was slowly uncoiled and fed down the chasm.

They had gone over the code of rope tugs to let those doing the lowering when to stop, continue descent or go back up.

Captain Adalar had wanted to change the code.

“I think we should use a system of long tugs and short tugs,” he said. “You know, as in short-short-long means go back up.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes and elbowed Derek.

“Let’s not,” the Neergaardian laughed obnoxiously.

“I’ll have you know that is the system used in dwarven mines,” Adalar was insulted.  “You can spell out the entire dwarvish alphabet with short and long pulls.”

“That’s fascinating,” Jeremy replied sarcastically.

“Yeah, interesting,” added Derek.  They laughed together; their similar attitude and age having made them bond over the last several days.

Beorth’s helm shone with the divine light of the dwarven gods, as Belear had cast the spell upon it as they were first lowered in.  The light illuminated the cobwebby and dusty first ledge as they passed it, and they did not stop until they again reached the next split-level ledge where they had first encountered the skeletal armored guards.

Three sets of two tugs and they were all dangling there.  Ratchis made it to the lip of the ledge with its low wall in his first try, but Kazrack swung twice before frantically grabbing the wall in a scramble and pulling himself over.  Beorth however, was soon spinning wildly in dizzying figure eights.

Ratchis slipped out of his harness and yanked hard once, signaling for the others to pull it up.  The plan called for more of them come down and face this menace.

Kazrack remained in his and leaned out with his halberd, to allow Beorth something to grab on to.  The paladin clutched the pole-axe and the dwarf pulled him in, the way the light spell shone against the scales of his armor gave the dwarf the impression that he had just reeled in a shining fish.  

Beorth sat on the low wall and took a deep breath.

“I am amazed the shadows have not attacked yet,” Beorth said.

“Because we wanted you to be comfortable,” a voice hissed, and two shadowy forms emerged from the darkness at two of the staircases.  One was harder to see, being in the dimmer area that Ratchis stood in.  It swooped at him, clawing with a cold insubstantial claw.  The half-orc priest could feel his limbs whither as the cold passed through him.  The second shadow dove towards the light of the shining helm like a black moth, turning effortlessly in the air and lazily leaning out a hand to pass through Kazrack.  The dwarf shivered and he felt a great weight upon him, as his limbs protested.

The adventurers barely had time to register what had happened when the shadows swung about and did it again.  Ratchis let out a weak growl, and Kazrack’s teeth chattered as his halberd sunk in his hands.

“Foul servants of light, you will join us!” one of the shadows hissed.

Ratchis leapt back and around putting a sarcophagus between him and the shadow.

“Nephthys, bring forth your wrath in the form of your favored weapon to destroy these foul creatures!” Ratchis called out to his goddess and translucent spear of golden light appeared on the other side of the shadow and thrust forward.  Ratchis could see some the thing’s “shadow stuff” dissipate with the blow and he smiled.

Beorth stood upon the lip and took a hard swing over his head at the shadow that pestered Kazrack, calling on Anubis power to fill his blade.  However, the shadow danced easily out of the way, hissing at him.

Kazrack leaned back and ducking his body about wildly was able to enchant his halberd with one of his gods’ miracles.

The shadow near Ratchis fled from the face of the spear and dove at Beorth, clawing him and drawing more strength from the paladin.  Kazrack was still moving about wildly and was able to avoid another attack from the shadow he was facing.  He swung his halberd through the shadow, but it passed through with no effect.

Ratchis however was having more success.  His spiritual spear thrust into the shadow troubling Kazrack with a sizzle of divine energy.  The thing let out an unearthly shriek that echoed up and out to the others.

“Maybe we should go help them now,” Martin suggested, but Ratchis’ rope was still being hauled up the long length of the shaft.

“I’m going down now,” Jeremy announced, and leapt onto the rope that was attached to Kazrack and began to slide down hand over hand with great proficiency, his swords dangling and slapping back and forth as he disappeared with a look of determination into the darkness. 

Ratchis need not control his spiritual weapon, so he let it do its thing while he ducked behind the sarcophagus fished out some stones he had collected out at the scrubland.  He waved his hand over them, and whispered, “Nephthys, bless these rocks so that they may contain some small measure of your righteousness in this bleak place.”

The stones glowed for a moment, and they were warm in his hand.  Whenever Ratchis felt the divine power of his goddess pass through him it always reminded him of what he was fighting for.

“Anubis, I failed in my last attempt,” Beorth was having a conversation with his god at the top of his lungs as he fought, as if he needed encouragement to maintain the fervor he had forgotten with the rest of his life, and that he now desperately tried to reenact. “Please grant me some more of your divine wrath so that I may return this creature to the peace of death.”

There was an audible ‘whoosh’ as the sword missed cleanly.  

The shadow mocked him, “Why not call upon your god’s power to send us away, so that we might come again and again and remind you that you and it are too weak to keep us at bay for long.”

“Soon, you will be one of us,” the other shadow hissed as it dodged back and forth to avoid the spiritual spear and Kazrack’s poleaxe.

“Natan-ahb, I fear these creatures will steal my last strength, but my strength is for you and you alone,” Kazrack intoned, clutching his pouch of runestones with his left hand.  “Send these things away.”

“You are only delaying the inevitable,” the shadow before him hissed, as swirled like smoke to avoid Ratchis’ spear.   The attempted turning had failed.

Beorth moaned softly as he felt the cold claw of one of the shadows again.  He stumbled, but the rope and harness jerked him back up, and he returned to his senses.

The spiritual spear found its target again, as Ratchis threw one of his magic stones at the one harassing Beorth.  The stone flew past them both and plummeted into the shaft bouncing about loudly.

“Anubis!  I implore you!  Bring forth your wrath even if you must strike me down as well for having failed you these two times.  Please show forgiveness and show these creatures the coldness of death!”  Beorth swung his sword with his little remain strength, calling the vengeance of his god to fill his blade and as it passed through the shadow, hr could feel the blade jerk as if it caught on something.

The shadow shrieked as a good portion of his essence seemed to ‘tear away’ from it as the sword left the other side.  It melted into nothingness.

Kazrack by this time able to position himself beside the sarcophagus that Ratchis hid behind, looking to gain its cover as well.  The shadow he faced let the dwarf go and flew into Beorth, who shuddered and wobbled again, as he lost even more of his strength.

Jeremy was hanging about ten feet above the ledge when he saw this happen by the light emanating from Beorth’s helmet.  The young Neergaardian hesitated for a moment, but then shrugging his shoulders he swung on the rope and threw himself down towards the lip of the ledge.

Even he seemed surprised when he made it.

Ratchis spear danced about the remaining shadow, but failed to score another blow, as one of the half-orc’s stones flew right through it without effect.  

Beorth missed again, the very last of his strength making his swing look feeble even with divine guidance.

“Jeremy! We’re weakened,’ Kazrack called out.  “Finish that creature as quickly as possible!”

“I’m on it!” Jeremy cried leaping over a sarcophagus and getting between Beorth and the shadow, but it was too late.  The thing was pulling off the paladin as the servant of Anubis collapsed under the weight of his armor and weapons.  He was helpless.  

“Get away from him!” Jeremy commanded the shadow, and it hissed.

The spiritual spear disappeared, and Ratchis stood and walked over to the melee casting _magic weapon_ on his masterwork war hammer.

Kazrack hurried past Ratchis to try to flank the thing, while Beorth though lying on the ground tried one last tactic.  He called on Anubis’ power to try to turn the thing and make it flee before one last hit made Beorth into one of those things.

“Anubis, I am weak,” Beorth implored softly.  “But my faith in you grows stronger.  Please drive off this creature that seeks to make a mockery of my living breath.”

The turn attempt failed.

The shadow ignored Beorth, however, as the paladin posed no threat, and it attacked Kazrack who barely ducked out of the way.  

Jeremy’s blade went right through the thing with no effect.

Ratchis joined the pile up on the black floating abomination, but his hammer missed as well, as the shadow bobbed back and forth between the combatants.

Beorth would not give up.  Again he called on his god’s divine energy and tried to force the shadow away.  Once again his shawl glowed with a brightness of daylight, and this time the thing shrieked and took off at an angle up the shaft.  Kazrack took one last swing at it, hitting, but the blade passed through.  The thing disappeared into the darkness.

There was a moment of no sound except for the heavy breathing of the four adventurers, and then came the baby cries again.  

Jeremy shuddered.  “Gods!  What a terrible sound!”

“Something is moving up the steps,” Kazrack warned.  He turned to see more of the skeletal minions coming up the stone steps to this level of the ledge.  “Everyone run!  I’ll hold them off!” 

The dwarf move to the closer stairs, calling on his gods to send off the skeletal guards, but the dark oppression of this place seemed to make channeling the divine energy more difficult.

Ratchis hefted Beorth up by his armpits, using the low wall for support and then tugged on the paladin’s rope four times (which was the signal for those above to pull someone up as quickly as possible without stopping) and yelled up cupping his hand to the side of his mouth.  “And Send Belear down!”

Above no one heard the command, but they felt the rope tug and soon Beorth was making his way up.  His head lolling from side to side as he barely had the strength to hold up the glowing helm.

Ratchis winced as he felt the cold blows of the black bolts sting his side.  He turned to face the second guardian, which was at the top of a set of stairs fifteen feet away.  Jeremy sheathed _the Right Blade of Arofel_ and leaped at the thing with his long sword in two hands

Kazrack roared as he exchanged blows with the strange undead thing.  He cut a large rent in its ring mail armor, but suffered a sword blow to the collar, that he barely was able to turn away from.  The dwarf could feel his neck stiffen and swell and blood vessels burst.

Jeremy dealt a devastating blow to one of these Minions making it spin in place and amble around the sarcophagus towards Ratchis, who smacked it once with his hammer, crunching bone.  But it still did not go down.  

Meanwhile, Beorth was being hauled up and taking the light with him.  Below Jeremy began to curse.

Beorth was barely able to look up to see that Martin the Green was being lowered down.  He was tied up in the harness that Ratchis had sent back up.  The shaggy red-haired mage, his fancy green robes stained with black ash in long streaks looked down worriedly.

“Beorth!  What’s going on?”

“Our strength has been drained,” Beorth replied weakly.

“I’ll need your helmet,” the watch-mage said, and he grabbed the glowing helm off the paladin’s head as they passed each other and slipped it on his own.

Beorth shrugged, as he was pulled further up towards the light.  Martin’s descent continued. 


Below, the adventurers’ troubles were worsening.  Kazrack’s halberd blade went right through his opponent’s neck… as if it were a ghost!  

“What the…?” the dwarf was dumb-founded.   He squinted his eyes and then opened them wide, and could now tell that these things were suddenly ‘blinking’ in and out of existence with great speed, giving them the ghostly feature.

“I need light!” Jeremy called, cautiously making his way towards the Minion that faced down Ratchis.

Ratchis stepped back and called to Nephthys.  In a moment, his hammer was glowing with light as if it were a torch.  

Jeremy moved and flanked the thing, but his sword went right through as Kazrack’s weapon had at the other.

“Gods dammit!” Jeremy cried out.  “I hate these things!”

Kazrack let out a muffled cry, as the ghostly nature of his opponent did not stop it from sending two bolts of black energy at him.  

As Martin was coming level with the fight he chanted, “_Parma Magica_”, casting his _shield_ spell.   Realizing that he had forgotten to give the “stop” signal on the rope, he began to tug wildly as he moved past the ledge.  

The smell of mildew and rotting flesh was overwhelming down here, and he gagged, feeling unused bile come up to the back of his throat.

“I’m glad I haven’t eaten in weeks,” Martin said, when he finally stopped being lowered.  He could hear the muted mewling of the babies below and shivered.

Again, Kazrack and Ratchis both tried to call on their ability to channel divine power to send these undead away, but it failed.  Unlike the shadows, these foes were silent never speaking a word, and always coming straight on.

Kazrack felt more blood pouring down his body as the thing’s long sword slapped him in the ribs.

“Let’s try a different approach,” Jeremy said, swinging his sword downward in a wide arc, and feeling it cleave the thing’s helmet and skull.  As it tumbled to the ground, into an awkward sitting position, the young swordsman felt the blade of his sword yank out of the skull.  He slashed again, striking its shoulder, and now its left arm hung by some thin tendons.

The Minion awkwardly got to its feet weakly swinging at Jeremy, who easily avoided the blow.

As Martin tried to make it to the ledge to help out (managing only to swing about the shaft wildly, losing all control), Ratchis’ hammer was going right through the minion he and Jeremy were facing.

“I will prove that my gods have not abandoned me!” Kazrack cried out.  “Natan-ahb!  Send these creatures back to the tombs from which they came!”

Nothing happened.

“They must be illusions,” Kazrack speculating that the failure of his god’s power had to have some reasonable explanation.

As he stood there flabbergasted, his opponent found an opening and its sword went diving into the dwarf’s neck.  The blow should have sent the dwarf’s head flying, but instead it passed through him in ghostly form.

Kazrack was even more shocked now, bewildered by these things.

Jeremy continued to whack the Minion before him with blows that would have long ago killed a man.

However, the Minion’s armor was scored, and gray brain matter bubbled and spurted from its cloven helmet.  It moved to place a sarcophagus between itself and its combatants.

Jeremy took the opportunity to strike it again.  He could hear ribs falling loosely behind the armor.  Ratchis tried as well, but the thing spun around and jerked backward, lifting a hand to fire two more bolts into the half-orc.

Martin was finally able to stabilize his swinging, but he still hung in the middle of the shaft, helplessly watching the battle.

Kazrack struck his foe again.

”Kazrack, force it down the stairs!” Jeremy called to his companion.  “You can do it!”

“Nephthys, turn your blessed compassion into this creature’s doom!” Ratchis begged his goddess, as he cast _cure light wounds_ and reached out to simply touch the thing, but his hand went right through.  The spell was not wasted, but no damage was done either.

Above, Beorth was dragged off the rope and Derek quickly grabbed it, and was beginning to be lowered down to join his companions.

Jeremy moved around behind Ratchis to aid Kazrack, causing a resounding ring as he struck it in the head with his long sword.

Ratchis ducked a long sword blow from the other, as Martin began to swing wildly again, unable to make it to the edge of the ledge.  The half-orc reached up with his ensorcelled hand again, and felt the positive energy discharge.  The Minion collapsed into a pile of bones and rusted armor.

“Thank you, Nephthys,” the priest said softly.

Kazrack thrust his halberd at the Minion, which was now at the top of the very top of the stairs to the lower level, but missing left himself open for a riposte, feeling the sword blade drag up his side, tearing a rent in his chain shirt.  Jeremy cleaved it in the right arm, sending shard of bone and gore flying out in a shower, but the thing still did not fall.

Kazrack withdrew and swung his halberd to keep the thing at bay, as Ratchis ran up without fear of his own danger and calling on his goddess’ power again punch the thing in the skull.  Again, he felt the positive energy discharge, and in a moment the thing was tumbling loudly down the stone steps.

Again, there was silence, except for the creaking of ropes.  Even the zombie babies below were quiet.

Derek came level with the ledge everyone was one, as Kazrack leaned out with his halberd to help Martin steady himself.

“Go back up, Derek,” Ratchis said to the young tracker.  “We have to all go back up.”

Derek nodded.  Martin looked at Ratchis and understood that party was in no shape to continue.  He tugged on the rope and soon he was being pulled back up as well.

“I will go up last,” Kazrack announced in typical fashion.

Jeremy rolled his eyes.

“Kazrack, that makes no sense,” Ratchis replied, frustration in his voice.  “You are severely weakened.”

“I’ll leave it to you two to determine who is last,” Jeremy said, and leapt onto the rope Kazrack was still attached to and started climbing up hand over hand.

They waited for rope to be lowered to Ratchis, and thus were both pulled up at the same time.

“This place is more fraught with peril than we thought,” Belear commented.

“We’ve killed more of those things, however,” Ratchis replied.  “And only one shadow remains to block our way.

No one replied.

“We should rest for the night and again the next day and then return,” Ratchis suggested. “Does everyone agree that the patient approach is the best?”

Belear nodded.  The dwarves were silent, but some grumbled.  Jeremy rolled his eyes.

“I will need my strength before I can do what Anubis asks of me,” Beorth croaked.  “I will need to rest.”

“Yes, that is the best course of action,” Kazrack concurred.

“In the meantime…” Belear walked over to Kazrack and lay a hand on him calling out to Rivkanal, the dwarven god-mother.  Kazrack felt some small measure of his strength return to him.  Belear walked over the Beorth and did the same, and now the paladin could lift his own weight and walk.

The weight of the company’s gear was redistributed so that those who were weakened need not carry as much and the march back to the edge of this crater of dead land began again in earnest.


*Anulem, the 14th of Prem – 564 H.E.*

The next morning, dawn came up with a stiff wind that sent sheets of ash cascading down on the campsite.  The previous night had been spent with nervous watches of five people at a time looking in all directions for the return of the last shadow, and going out in groups of three to collect what little wood they could from the patches of scrubby trees.

Belear was examining the spellbook that Martin had taken from the necromancer gnome, Frear several days before. (1)  The watch-mage had asked the dwarven priest to prepare a miracle that might allow him to break the magical spell on the book, which Martin was convinced was a dangerous ward of some kind.

The elder dwarf was unable to break the enchantment.

“Are we going back into that nasty place?” Thomas chittered in Martin’s mind.  He had a tone of disgust and anxiety.

“Yes, Thomas.”

“Why do we keep trying to get in there?” Thomas whined.  “I want to go back to the gnomes. I like the gnomes.”

“We all do, Thomas,” Martin replied, patting his familiar’s head absently.  “But we have to do this because Ratchis and the others think it’ll help them.”

“Do you think it will help them?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“You know, you should be the leader,” Thomas said, lovingly.

“No, I shouldn’t,” Martin replied.  “But thanks for saying so anyway.”

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

Later in the day, a bored Jeremy began to pester Blodnath with questions again, when he saw the dwarf doing something with his ‘trap-box’. (2)

“Hey, Blodnath!” Jeremy plopped down with his back to the wind behind the tent, right beside the wiry white-haired dwarf.  “D’you think you could show me how that toy of yours works?”

“It’s not a toy.”

“Uh, yeah… whatever it is…the training device. Can I see it?”

Blodnath eyed the blonde human, “Sure, “I’ll set it up for you.”

“I once saw someone use a bulb full of oil to help pick a lock,” Jeremy chattered.  “Do you have one of those?  Or is that too advanced for this type of game?”

“This is not a game,” Blodnath snapped with annoyance.  He pulled the box off his lap.  “I don’t think you’re really serious about this, boy.” 

“No, no, I promise to take it seriously,” Jeremy protested.  “I am a quick study.”

“Humans are really no good at this kind of stuff because it takes patience,” Blodnath said. “You’re not ready for the box. I’ll tell you about different kinds of locks instead.”

Jeremy sat and listened and soon his curiosity overcame his disappointment and he asked an annoyed Blodnath a question about everything the dwarf tried to explain.  Derek sat around the corner of the tent.  Listening to it all.

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

The rest of the day passed without event.  Belear and Ratchis spread around the _lesser restoration_ spells, to help out Kazrack and Beorth - along with a good deal of healing for the original trio to descend.


*Ralem, the 15th of Prem – 564 H.E.*

The next morning found the company marching across the ash once again towards the monolith and the shaft entrance.  Ratchis had cast _lesser restoration_ once again first thing, but the paladin (and Kazrack, as well) was not back up to his natural great strength.

As they marched they discussed their options for exploring the area below.  

“I believe we should all go down and set up a base there to explore deeper if we must,” Captain Adalar suggested.  “I think we are making a mistake dividing our strength as we have been doing.”

“It is too dangerous to just leave one or two people up there to guard the ropes, and that would counter the whole point to begin with, and if someone cuts the ropes from above we could be in trouble,” Ratchis said.

“You mean ‘trapped’,” Martin interjected.

“I would say, ‘in trouble’,” Ratchis replied to his companion, with an air of contempt.

“I would say, ‘trapped’,” Martin said.

“That’s because you’ve always been the optimist of the group, Martin,” Ratchis lashed out with his words.

Overhearing, Beorth wondered at Ratchis’ behavior.  If the paladin of Anubis had still had his memory he might have been taken back with how much Ratchis had changed since they had first met him. (3) Once taciturn and impulsive, he was now very vocal about his opinions, and often used intimidation to enforce his desires over Martin’s and sometimes, even Jeremy’s, to push the party towards his way of wanting to do things.   Ratchis had sharpened his tongue into as effective a weapon as any other the burly half-man carried, and wielded it with an indomitable will that only a Friar of Nephthys could have.  Months exposed to soft-headed, but good-hearted men like Jeremy, or men with impeccable conviction, but no real direction, like Martin, or frightened and ignorant commoners, and officious and reputation conscious as the alderman of Ogre’s Bluff (4), or simply selfish and bullying men like the constable of Ogre’s Bluff or Devon (5) had all served to do what years of living among orcs, or alone in the woods, or as a student of elder Friars of Nephthys could not do.  Ratchis had become arrogant. 

Again, they arrived at the monolith.

A fourth rope was set up the best it could to allow Derek to join Ratchis, Beorth and Kazrack on the initial descent.  It would also allow quicker descent for those coming after.

The foursome had barely made it to the first ledge, when a shadowy figured swooped into the light that was once again emanating from Beorth’s head, thanks to Belear.  

“I will take you this time,” the shadow hissed, but Beorth shifted his weight on the rope, and the undead thing flew right past him with a cold shiver.

Everyone tugged on their ropes to stop their descent.  Ratchis cast _magic stone_ once again, and kept an eye open for the thing.  It did not take long.  It swooped at the paladin again, this time found his target with a cold black claw.  However, even as he felt what was left of his strength wane again, he swung his sword with the divine vengeance of his god.  Again, he felt the feeling as if the blade had caught on something.

The thing shrieked. Ratchis cast a stone at it, but it missed, clattering among the sarcophagi.  He began to swing back and forth on the rope with the strength of his toss. 

The shadow circled and swooped and bobbed like an insect.  Again, Beorth felt its cold touch drain even more strength from him.

“You power is strong in me this day, Anubis,” Beorth called out.  “Please grant me an extension of that power through my blade.”  Unfortunately, the blow slipped through the shadow’s essence without effect.

Kazrack and Derek were too far away to aid Beorth.  The dwarf waited, readying himself to attempt the turn the thing if it looked like it might kill Beorth.  They had agreed ahead of time to try to destroy the thing before sending it away to be faced again.

“Nephthys!  Guide my hand!” Ratchis bellowed as he let loose another magic stone.  This one passed through the shadow as if it were not there.’

The shadow cackled and spinning clawed Beorth once again.  The paladin shuddered, and his sword felt heavy his hands.   The shadow launched itself upward into the darkness of the narrower portion of the shaft and disappeared. 

“Let us keep going down,” Ratchis said.  “I will restore some of your strength down there.”

They tugged their signal and made it down to the level with the steps unmolested.  There, Ratchis was able to restore some of Beorth’s strength.  

It was agreed that Derek, Beorth and Kazrack would wait there while Ratchis accompanied the ropes back up and determined who would come down next.  It was important that each group going down was accompanied by someone who could turn undead incase the shadow returned.

Actually, they did not have to wait long.

As Ratchis was being pulled up, the thing came at him, but Ratchis was ready.  He still had an enchanted stone remaining from his previous spell, and he let it go at the thing.   It struck the shadow dead on, and its form shattered as if he had been made of black stained glass and then melted into nothingness.  It did not even have time to hiss or shriek.

“I got it!” Ratchis called down to his companions who had no idea what he was talking about.

*End of Session #42*

---------------------------------------------------------------------
*Notes]/b]

(1) This was in session #39.

(2) Blodnath carries a box designed to be set into simulations of different kinds of traps and locks, which he used to keep his skills sharp and to train others.

(3) Ratchis joined the party outside of Tallow’s Post in session #5.

(4) Alderman William Ronald Silvestri was first encountered in session #19.

(5) Devon made his first appearance way back in session #3, but Ratchis did not meet him until session #6.*


----------



## handforged

yippee!!!

I really enjoyed all of the combat during this session.  I can imagine that it was quite tense around the table.  As not everyone got to go down the ropes, were the other players upset about their lack of involvement?  The part about Ratchis becoming arrogant was really nice writing (not that the rest wasn't).

I can't wait.

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

handforged said:
			
		

> *yippee!!!
> 
> As not everyone got to go down the ropes, were the other players upset about their lack of involvement?
> 
> *




Well, lucky the players who were not as directly involved were the ones who are better are respectfully and and quietly letting other players get their chance in the spotlight.




			
				handforged said:
			
		

> *
> The part about Ratchis becoming arrogant was really nice writing (not that the rest wasn't).
> *




Thanks! 



			
				handforged said:
			
		

> *
> I can't wait.
> *




Hopefully you won't have to wait long - I feel like I am on a roll lately - and have already begun my next installment.


----------



## Manzanita

Stylin'.  Can't wait.


----------



## el-remmen

*session #43 (part one)*

*Session #43*


Part One: Deeper into the dark…


“The last shadow has been destroyed,” Ratchis said, when he got back to the top of the shaft.  “Everyone can come down and we can deal with the, …uh, dead things at the bottom.”

As the rest of the company of men and dwarves made their way down the shaft, Kazrack spent his time searching the lower level for secret doors.  Derek made a half-hearted attempt to search as well, but the near-constant rustling and crying of the undead babies below made it hard for the young warrior to concentrate.  He was sweating and feeling queasy.  Beorth stood guard, vigilant for the arrival of some other undead menace.

In time they were all on the lowest level of the shaft, where they could look down by the light Beorth’s helmet (or using their darkvision) and see the writhing undead infants crawling over each other like mindless insects.  On this level (from whence the skeletal warriors had emerged) were more square stone sarcophagi and no masks, but there was a wooden and painted statue of a gaunt man with a ram’s head. 

Across from it was another statue, of a tall blue-headed gnoll with a morning star.  It snarled with carved wood for teeth.  It leaned over the low wall and its head stuck out into the shaft.  Some sort of gray flesh was gooped on the top side, and dripped down into the babies.

There was a stark contrast between these primitive statues and the decor of the rest of this tomb.

Kazrack covered his mouth with the back of his hand as he looked down at the writhing infants.

“Perhaps we should call on out gods’ powers to end the suffering of these… infants, as it would be more merciful then plowing through them with weapons,” Kazrack suggested softly.

“I agree,” Ratchis replied. 

Beorth’s helm blinked out, and the humans groaned.  In a moment, Martin lit one of the party’s last remaining torches, and when it caught there was a sharp blue flare of the flame, with swirls of pink.

“Whoa!” Martin cried, flinching.

“Eh?  That’s gas!” Kazrack was alarmed, and the dwarves all turned their heads to look at them.

“Is it dangerous?  Should I put it out,” Martin looked even more bleached white than usual, the lack of sleep, the lack of desire for food; the circumstances of his first appointment by the Academy, it wearing heavily on him.

“If we enter a place with less ventilation you must be alert to the color of the flame changing,” Kazrack said.

“Feh. By then it’d be too late,” Helrahd croaked.

“If we know we are going to enter such an area we’ll put it out ahead of time and rely on the blessings of our gods,” said Kazrack.

“Hmph,” Helrahd spit.  “And since we are going to the realm of sunshine and flowers we should expect to not have to worry about it.”

Kazrack’s jaw dropped.  He was unused to being treated that way by a fellow dwarf.  Helrahd walked away, passing Kirla, who twisted her beard-draped mouth and shrugged her shoulders, as if by way of apology for her brother.  She was actually quite handsome by dwarven standards, but Kazrack turned back to the matter at hand.

“Too bad we don’t have a canary,” Kazrack said.

“What?” Martin was confused.

“A canary.”

“A what?” Now it was Beorth’s turn.

“If it drops dead you know there is poison gas, since it is smaller and its lungs are smaller,” Kazrack said. “Like when Thomas was paralyzed by the poison incense first when we were attacked by Mozek.”

Martin’s head drooped when the incident was mentioned.  Beorth squinted and scratched his head and tried to remember what Jana has said about that encounter. (1)

“What we always said was, ‘bring a human in’,” Blodnath said, with a chuckle.  “’Oops! The human died!  We’d better get out of here in 3 or 4 hours it’ll effect us!’”

“I wonder how many dwarves died before you figured that out?” Jeremy said with ill humor.

“Eh?  What is that supposed to mean?” Blodnath sneered at his sometime student.

“I say that if we had time,” Martin stepped between them and addressed everyone.  “We should go back to town and get a few barrels of oil and burn this whole place down.”

“We don’t have time,” Ratchis said.

“Did anyone recognize the deities depicted in those statues above?” Beorth suddenly asked.

“One of them is obviously the gnoll god, Kesh,’ Martin said. “Or at least, I’d assume."

“The other is some meaningless human god,” Kazrack waved the question off.

“It seemed familiar,” Martin said, scratching his chin.

“A Ram! Duh!” Jeremy made a knocking motion at Martin’s head and pointed at Beorth.

“I think it is a good idea that we did not touch them,” Derek said nervously.

“Perhaps it is a gnoll good, too,” Kazrack combed his beard with his fingers, reconsidering his hypothesis.  “I could see how they could worship a ram – some kind of god of prey.”

“It is Rahkefet,” Ratchis said.  “Or at least, I think it is.  He is supposed to be the son of Set, but I know little of him, as he was said to have passed during _The Time Before_.”

“The time before what?” Kazrack asked.

“Long ago, when the world was all a sea of sand,’ Ratchis replied.

“Oh, that’s an interesting story,” Kazrack said.  “I remember something about that during that holiday we celebrated with you.” (2)

“Every race has its own story about what came before the known ages of history, but none can agree on what it was like,” Belear added.

“We are getting distracted from the gruesome task at hand,” Beorth said, waking over to the edge and looking down at the babies.  They began to cry and cough again when they saw him.

Ratchis walked over to the edge and swung his holy symbol chain around, “Nephthys, I call on you to get rid of these horrid creatures that were put here to test our dedication to the cause of good by our enemies.”

There was horrible hissing sound and a burning smell that wafted up suddenly in the form of a wispy smoke.  The babies were lit up and then they began to burn away as if they were paper dipped in oil and cast into a fire.   The stench was terrible, but the sound was worse.  The hissing filled all their ears, and then suddenly stopped.  There was hardly a second of silence before the baby crying began again like a constant wail of pain and confusion.

Ratchis had succeeded in burning off a top layer of zombie baby with the divine might of his goddess, but there were still dozens left, crawling around and now screaming like frightened children.  Everyone in the company cringed as their eyes revealed a horror, but their ears plucked at their heart’s strings, for what good-hearted person can stand to hear a child cry in that way?

“Oh gods!” Jeremy covered his ears.  “ Somebody shut that up!”  He was near tears.

“Lords and Lady, please end the suffering of these blighted creatures!” Kazrack intoned, as he walked over to the edge.   Again, more of the zombie infants crumbled into dust with inhuman shrieks.  Again, there were a few left crawling around at the bottom of the pit (another twelve feet deep) and crying out.

Ratchis hopped onto a rope and slid down halfway and called to his goddess again, “Nephthys, end these creatures’ suffering so we may move one and cleanse this den of evil.”

The sound of shrieking echoed up the shaft for a few more moments, and then died away. 


Now that the zombie infants were gone, they all looked down to see the twisted remains of whatever apparatus once stood at the surface to raise things up and down.  It looked as if it had once been a metal wheel, and a thick rope and a hook and bar of some kind.  It was badly rusted and broken in pieces in many places.  There were also a few rotten strands of straw of what might have been a basket things were lowered in.

They also noticed that the pit itself seemed to open into some kind of ramp that faced the front of the monolith above.  

The ropes attached above reached all the way to the very bottom of the shaft, so Kazrack, Ratchis and Beorth grabbed ropes and made their way down.  Once they were safely down, Blodnath, Derek and followed.  

The smell was growing increasingly worse.  Large waterbugs crawled in and out of cracks where the shining red eyes of rats could be seen cowering from the light.  The ramp did not go far.  It was a gentle slope that only went down about ten feet to a strange metal door with no visible hinges.  It had two horizontal handles about six inches long on either side of it close to floor.  The door was 10 feet high and ten feet wide.

Kazrack walked towards the doors.

“No!  Wait!  Don’t touch it!” Blodnath’s voices echoed up and down the shaft, and everyone was startled.

Kazrack stopped arm’s length from the door. 

“Nephthys, grant me a portion of your all-seeing vision so I may see what might block our way in this awful place,” Ratchis intoned.   In a second, he could see Jeremy’s short sword glowing faintly blue.  Beorth’s shawl was iridescent and brighter.  He looked at the door.  There was a blazing sea-blue rune visible on the door at about five feet high.

“There is a rune on the door,” Ratchis said, and kneeling he traced it in the dust.  (3)

“I don’t recognize it,’ Blodnath said, walking backward towards one of the ropes.  “I’m not touching it.”

“I will open the door,” Kazrack said, turning to face the others.  “My dwarven hardiness will allow me to shake off whatever ill-effect some foul and weak wizard might seek to cast upon me.”

“Whoa! Whoa, there!” Derek’s eyes narrowed, and his young face grew creased as if he aged twenty years in a moment, and then it was soft again.  “Let’s not do anything hasty.”

Martin was called, and he examined the rune and began to think back to his classes at the Academy. The rune seemed to be based on the triangular warding runes of dwarven make, but the circles were all wrong.  He scratched his head.  

Kazrack tapped his foot.

Martin called for his bag to be lowered to him and rummaged in it for the black leather bound book that Richard the Red had given him as a gift for the Festival of Isis. (4) The mage flipped through the book for some time, eventually sitting down in the muck cross-legged, flipping through the pages and humming to himself.  At times, he stopped looked at one page for a long time, but would inevitable flip the page with a snap and keep browsing. 

Finally, he hopped up to his feet with an “A-ha!”

“You found something?” Kazrack’s face was hopeful.

“It is a glyph of a protective ward,” Martin announced proudly.

Ratchis’ shoulders dropped and he let out a big sigh.

“Uh, didn’t we know that already?” Blodnath snorted.

Derek and Jeremy began to laugh.

“It’s good to know that at the bottom of a shaft of some evil tomb, in a pit once filled with crawling zombie babies, facing a magically trapped door that could fry us all, you can all still make me laugh,” Jeremy coughed out and slapped his knee.  

Derek seemed to have caught the giggles, too and placed a hand on the wall to support himself as he doubled over and grabbed his gut.

Everyone else just stared at them.  Beorth imagined how satisfying it would be to grab the two young men by the scruff of the neck and bang their heads together.  The image made the tickle of laughter nip at his threat – but he suppressed it.

“Well, there is more,” Martin finally said.  “It is a sonic attack of some kind.  It will likely deafen, perhaps even burst the eardrums with sounds.  Of course, if Ratchis traced it wrong it could be a fear spell of some kind, but I don’t thing the triangles would be upside down then, and they’d have a pronounced flare to the left if following what is called the Abyssal school of Third Age Thricia, or curved like talons if of the eastern school of tribal rune-form.”

Silence.

Kazrack turned back to the doors.  “Okay, so sound. That’s good, Martin. Thanks. That’s helpful, really.  I could plug up my ears, or something.”

Jeremy and Derek giggled again, and Ratchis shot them a withering look.  They were silent.

“I will open the door,” Kazrack said.  “We have no other choice. I am most likely to resist some attack, and no other means of circumventing this ward.

“Belear could try to dispel it,” Martin offered with a shrug.

But the elder dwarf was called down, and cast his spell and it did not break the magic.

“I will open the door,” Kazrack repeated.  “The rest of you should climb back up to the previous ledge in case it is an area effect.”

The others grudgingly agreed, and those that had climbed down, began to climb back up one by one.  Beorth was to be last.

“Kazrack, are you sure you have the strength to do the job?” the ghost-hunter asked the dwarf.

“Of course,” Kazrack was grim faced.

Kazrack stood over by the left handle and realized that poor leverage would likely not allow him to open the door alone.

“This door is too wide for one,” Kazrack called.

Beorth let go of the rope, as he was about to climb.  “I will come help.”

The two of them got back in their rope harnesses after Blodnath looped the ropes around supports for easier leverage, in case they needed to be pulled back up quickly.

The paladin grabbed the handle on the right.  Above everyone looked over the side, with their hands over their ears and eyes wide open. 

They counted to three and pulled up evenly and slowly.  Inch by inch it crept up with the sound of twining chain and nothing had happened.

Kazrack looked over to Beorth and smiled, as the door was just about three feet open, and there was a sudden high-pitched sound that blasted from the door and echoed painfully up the shaft.  The door rolled open the rest of the way as if caught by some counterweight.  The hooded lantern that was still at the bottom of the shaft shattered and the place was plunged into darkness.   Those above reflexively turned away from the shaft and doubled over in pain.

But in less than a second it was past.

There was no sound from below.

“What’s happening?” Martin asked aloud in the dark.

Ratchis shushed him and crawled over the wall and looked over and down.

At the bottom, Kazrack was lying on his side, with his arms around his head and his knees to his chest.  Beorth was doubled over, and stumbled forward a few steps and then leaned on the wall.

Blood trickled from their ears.

“I’m alright,” Kazrack said overly loudly.

“We have no lantern, Beorth croaked, and then cried out.  He felt the familiar pain of those bolts of cold black light strike him from the direction of the now open door on his left.

“We are under attack!” Beorth said.   “We need light!”

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

(1) After Beorth lost his memory to the Pixie Curse (See Session #33), he gained most of his information about the party, its members and their adventures from Jana, the young witch of questionable background that once belonged to the party.  

(2) Ratchis and the rest of the Fearless Manticore Killers shared a meal for one of the “_Malar Days_” (a nine day holiday commemorating the nine day ordeal of first priest of Nephthys (in her role as goddess of freedom) as he fled the Minions of Set) in session #15

(3) The rune was: 
	

	
	
		
		

		
			





(4) The book was Runes, Sigils & Wards: Their Roots and Variations by Master of Wards Methuselal of the Academy of Wizardry (see session #38).  It is a handy, but rare tome.


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

Thanks for the update, I really enjoy reading your story hour.
Is there some taint in the air in the Necropolis that causes negative emotions? There seemed to be more party friction than normal... or that might just be my lack of sleep


----------



## el-remmen

Look_a_Unicorn said:
			
		

> *Thanks for the update, I really enjoy reading your story hour.
> Is there some taint in the air in the Necropolis that causes negative emotions? There seemed to be more party friction than normal... or that might just be my lack of sleep  *




I think it was just frustration with the quest and their progress and their decision to sidetrack and deal with this place before going back to the gnomes. 

I think that Ratchis', Beorth's and Kazrack's will won out in this case - while everyone else probably kept thinking, "what are we trying to accomplish here again?"


----------



## Cyronax

Hey nemm, I just got back to the story hour after some hiatus. I haven't been able to read all the recent updates yet, but they look great. It'll be nice to have a big block of this story to read instead of just a few mouth watering pieces  .

C.I.D.


----------



## Manzanita

I was just wondering if you, Nemmerle, ever considered running an adventure on the EN world PbP boards.  It would give us non-New Yorkers the opportunity to enter the world of a master.  I'd be first in line for a player slot, needless to say.


----------



## el-remmen

Cyronax said:
			
		

> *Hey nemm, I just got back to the story hour after some hiatus. I haven't been able to read all the recent updates yet, but they look great. It'll be nice to have a big block of this story to read instead of just a few mouth watering pieces  .
> 
> C.I.D. *




How far have you gotten?


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> *I was just wondering if you, Nemmerle, ever considered running an adventure on the EN world PbP boards.  It would give us non-New Yorkers the opportunity to enter the world of a master.  I'd be first in line for a player slot, needless to say. *




Actually, I started up a pbp game involving the secondary charaters in OOTFP - Finn, Carlos, Gwar, Frank and Josef - but time became prohibitive and I had to drop the idea (which I felt really guilty about). . . 

Anyway, I think I've decided that PbEm and PBP games are not for me - that stuff is cool to supplement a face to face game - but otherwise it seems not as fun to me.

But thanks for the interest.

Speaking of Finn, anyone seen MaverickWeirdo?


----------



## el-remmen

*conclusion of session #43*

*Session #43*

Part Two: A Fierce Battle in the Central Chamber

“Hurry with the light!” Jeremy fumbled towards the lip of the ledge, feeling for the rope.  

Beorth clenched his teeth. Invisible in the darkness, he felt two more of the black bolts strike his chest.

“Pull us up!” Kazrack cried, but Ratchis had already called to Nephthys and cast light upon one of his javelins.  He dropped the weapon down into the pit.

Jeremy already had his hand on the rope, and he leapt over the wall and followed the light down to aid his friends. 

Derek did not react in time. The ledge was shaded in darkness again, as the light did not reach very strongly from below, and he was forced to fumble for the remaining rope in the darkness.

“Should we start pulling?” Tolnar asked aloud.

“Should we start pulling?” Jolnar echoed.

“Wait for the signal!” Captain Adalar roared.  He moved to look over the edge.  Martin snapped his fingers and tiny colored lights danced off his fingers to leap about his heady happily.  He looked over to see the fate of Beorth and Kazrack as well.

What they saw, was Beorth stumbling away from the open door and beseeching his god for healing ans he lay hands on his chest and felt the divine healing warmth.

Blodnoth leapt over the low wall into the pit without the aid of a rope.  He clambered down, thrusting his fingers and booted toes into tiny cracks and fissures.  However, the lower half of the climb proved too smooth.  He faltered and tumbled down the last fifteen feet into the pit, with an ‘oof!’

The ensorcelled javelin did not provide enough light for Beorth to see past the very entrance to the area beyond, but he was able to get the sense that it was very large and vaulted.  Kazrack could see with his gift of dwarven vision that the door opened onto a stone stairway that led down into a vaulted chamber.  He thought he saw the outline of what looked like column.  There was an armored skeletal thing, one of the Minions of whoever ruled this place waiting patiently, sword in hand.   Kazrack noticed that floor seemed to be a checker of alternated colored stone tile.  His jaw dropped open as he several of the tiles burst open, and necrotic corpses began to pull themselves out of the earth below. They crawled over the tile, dressed in shredded woolen clothing, and aprons.

Kazrack lifted a fist over his head and held his bag of runestones in the other hand.  “Lords and Lady!  Put the fear of dwarvenkind into these creatures and turn them away from us and our might.”

The dwarven priest felt the swell of divine energy release and wash out in all directions.  

The undead kept coming.

“They are coming up from the ground!” Kazrack called to the others.  He hefted his halberd.

Ratchis had heard the popping sound of the bursting stone tiles and was already coming down a rope as fast as he could. It was the rope that Derek did not see until the half-orc grabbed it.   The young woodsman sneered and then sucked his teeth to hold back a wave of sudden anger.  (1)

Derek moved over to help the three dwarven brothers instead, they still held the ropes attached to the harnesses worn by Beorth and Kazrack.

“Get ready to pull as soon as we get the signal,” Derek said to them.

“We already know that,” Tolnar snapped, rolling his steel blues eyes.

“We need reinforcements,” Beorth called, as he slipped the harness off.

“Ta-da!” Jeremy replied, leaping the last few feet to the bottom of the shaft.  He drew his two swords with a flick of his wrists.  

“Maybe we can draw them out,” Blodnath suggested, thrusting his chin towards the open door, while creeping behind the metal refuse half-buried in the dirt.

Kazrack moved to the door to get a better view of what was happening within.  And Ratchis leapt down the final fifteen feet.  Martin grabbed a rope and began to come down.  Jeremy moved to stand at Kazrack’s right in the broad door.  The human could not see far into the darkness, but Kazrack could see chains that were connected to counterweights and were strung along pulleys and hen disappeared into the wall above the doorway.  There were cold braziers flanking the stairs.  The room was greater than sixty feet across and nearly seventy feet long.  There were four columns supported a vaulted ceiling, and the walls were decorated in a crumbling mosaic.  The other end of the room was shrouded in darkness even to a dwarf’s keen eyes.

With a yell, Belear came tumbling down, slipping from the rope he had tried to use to come down.  The elder dwarf landed atop of Blodnath, which cushioned his landing.

“Ugh,” Blodnath spit, and looked up.  “Are you okay master?”

Belear leapt to his feet, as if embarrassed.

Beorth stepped out of the harness, and picked up his quarterstaff, which he had brought down with him earlier. He moved in to support Kazrack and Jeremy.

The battle that followed was chaotic and spread out.

By now a group of zombies were making their way up the dark stairs with purpose in their dead eyes.  They marched with their hands stretched before them and emitted an almost mechanical droning moan.

Kazrack stepped into the room and called to his gods.  Four of the zombies broke ranks and began to shamble away from the dwarf into the dark end of the room.  The armored Minion’s skull-face could show no emotion, and it was disturbing how perfectly still it stood, pointing at the dwarf, while holding a sword in its other hand.

Ratchis pushed past Jeremy and Kazrack to charge into the room.  He cut a huge chunk off a zombie’s shoulder, and sent it crashing down on to the steps, leaving a slimy trail of gore behind it.  It still fumbled to stand.   The half-orc winced, as he took a second to hold his ribs.  He had run past two zombies hoping to reach the Minion, and they had hammered him with their calcified fists.

To Jeremy it appeared as if Ratchis plunged into total darkness.

“I need to bring the light with me,” he thought.

Martin stepped away from the rope and cast his _shield_ spell, while Jeremy moved to the rear of the shaft to pick up the enchanted javelin.  

“Derek, come down here!” Jeremy called up to his new friend. “We’re bringing the fight to these undead suckers!”

Derek deftly came down the cracked stone side of the pit and then leapt from the wall with a graceful flip.  He landed on the balls of his feet and turned to the open door. 

Beorth stepped into the room as well, the light of the javelin now in Jeremy’s hand only illuminated a bit more, but he could see that a zombie had made it up the stairs, ignoring Ratchis.   The paladin slammed it in the neck with his staff.

The Minion ambled backwards now, trying to stay out Ratchis’ furious reach.  More zombies burst from beneath here and there and blocked the way.

As Jeremy stuck the javelin into his pack so he could still use his swords and have light, Kazrack and Ratchis struggled with zombie limbs, exchanging blows.   The Neergaardian re-drew his short sword and made it to the door, as Belear stepped up and called to the dwarven gods as Kazrack had.  Five of the zombies suddenly shrieked and then vaporized.  The sound of the dirt that had been on their bodies rained across the ground, even as their clothing flared up and burned away in a second.  Jeremy, who could now see into the room (but was still too far away to see the Minion), gasped. 

Beorth began to move down the stairs, and the Minion pointed up at him.  Wordlessly, it sent two more bolts of black light slamming into the paladin’s chest.

Ratchis roared and ripped through these gray zombies dressed as servants, running towards the armored Minion.  Kazrack also came running, but Beorth sped past the short-legged dwarf with an unusual burst of speed for the paladin.  The dwarf still wore his harness, and he had jerked back as he had reached the end of it length.  He cursed.

The ghost-hunter’s staff dented the thing’s armor and it shuddered. In a moment Derek and Ratchis were beside the paladin, an Jeremy was there as well.  The Minion took a swinging chop at Beorth, that the paladin ducked, and then it jerked backward allowing Ratchis and Beorth an opportunity for a devastating blow.  Beorth, however, was off-balance and his staff spun wildly. Ratchis’ long sword ripped a section of armor off its shoulder.  

The Minion had stepped back between two of the large pillars that looked a dark dark blue in the bobbing light of the javelin.  Ratchis stepped forward to press the attack, but as he stepped between them there was a barely audible zapping sound accompanied by a flash of black and blue light that shimmered back and forth between the pillars in an instant.

Ratchis a deep shock to his system, followed by cold, as the negative energy passed through him.  He shuddered.

“Well, that’s not good,” Derek muttered.

 Martin hurried behind Beorth whose shoulders were hunched in pain from the wounds to his chest.  “_Distortus_, the watch-mage muttered, casting _Blur_ on the paladin.

Derek and Jeremy stepped up to the edge of the space between the pillars afraid to pass through.  Watching Ratchis as he still moved to attack the Minion, which was ready to parry.  More of the room was visible now.  There was a crude painted wooden statue of a gnoll with blue skin holding a feathered and hooked scepter or rod.  It lay on it side was twelve feet long and two feet wide.

Beorth made his way around the other side of the pillar, running to join Ratchis in his battle, but essentially he was now running between this pillar and another equally spaced pillar also on the left side of the room.  There was another sizzle and flash of black and blue light.  

With a ‘yerk!’, Beorth dropped to the tiled floor, unconscious.

“Beorth!” Derek cried out.  

The Minion swung its long sword at Ratchis, who pulled back parrying the blow with his own sword.  Kazrack took that moment to move into a flanking position, but his halberd went through the thing as it was suddenly ghostly.  Ratchis’ riposte also eerily swung through the thing’s body.

The smell of rotting and death seemed to waft up from the spot where the tiles had been smashed from below.  The dirt below it was a rich red-brown, and full of dark stones, worms and maggots.

Derek chased after a zombie that threatened to make its way to Beorth.  He cartwheeled over the large wooden statue, laying a hand on it for support, but as he flipped over it.  He heard it creak and lurch as the floor below it gave.  In less than a second the young warrior’s feet were on the floor on the other side of the statue, but he could see now that the tiles in this area were already all shattered, and the floor was not stable.  He felt the floor give way beneath his feet, so he hopped awkwardly further into the room, and to the edge of the light.   Here the floor was sturdier, and he chopped at a zombie with his battleaxe, which had never left his hand.

Martin hurried over to the fallen paladin.  In the bobbing light he could see dull bronze glyphs etched into the columns facing each other.  The watch-mage found that Beorth was still barely conscious.  He flitted in and out of awareness. (2)

“Beorth, stay with me!  You have to stay awake, Beorth,” Martin shook the blanch-faced man. “If you go to sleep you could die.”

Over the sound of Kazrack and Ratchis roaring at the elusive Minion, and Derek’s axe cutting deep into necrotic flesh and withered bone, could be heard more shuffling of undead sandaled feet, and that droning moan.   It was coming from the hole in the floor beneath the statue (which was now a quarter of the way sunk into the floor at an odd angle).  There were dozens more zombies milling around beneath them!

The sound of steel on steel rang out as Ratchis parried another of the tenacious undead warrior’s blows.  There was another metallic cracking as Kazrack drove the point of his halberd into seam in the things arm and pried back.  A rain of pulverized bone burst out and the thing sagged.  Ratchis tried to take advantage of its hesitation, but again his sword went right through it.

Jeremy turned from the harmless, yet disturbing, still flailing limbs of a zombie he had butchered in time to see come around Martin to put himself between the watch-mage and the cowering zombies on the other side of the statue.   What the Neergaardian had not noticed, were the minute cracks now spreading out along the tiles.  The floor gave out beneath his booted feet and he yelped, twisting his body to jump back to where he had come from.  Instead, he disappeared into the darkness below.

Martin and Derek both called the blonde warrior’s name, as the only light source tumbled with him.

Kazrack turned thinking that Jeremy had fallen to some wound, “The power of my gods will save him… Uh, where’s Jeremy?” 

“He fell in the hole!” Martin screeched hysterically.  “I heard _things_ down there.”

Kazrack looked away again, seeing that the Minion he and Ratchis faced, turned to hurry away from them.  He slashed his halberd through the thing’s side, sending it to the cracked floor in a rain of bones and armor.

Belear had finally made his way to Beorth, with Blodnath guarding his flank.  The elder dwarf laid his hands on the human paladin and spoke to his gods, “Mistress Rivkanal, please give me your healing powers that I may heal this brave warrior of the human jackal-god that we may smite this undead menace.”

Beorth felt the warmth and discomfort of his wounds closing, and the burns on his skin from the black lightning lessening.  He sat up.

“That you for reviving me,” he said to Belear.  “The blessing of the dwarven fathers are much appreciated.”

Ratchis was handling the last of the zombies that were not cowering, while Kazrack walked over to aid Belear and the others with Beorth.

Derek carefully moved towards the dim light emanating from the hole in the floor. He looked over the edge of the hole and called down.

“Jeremy? Do you need back up?  There are more of them down there!”

When Jeremy fell through the hole in the floor he felt the jarring pain of stones and dirt momentarily impeding him and then giving way, causing him to tumbled wildly and be knocked back and forth in the opening and ruinous shaft.  He slammed past what seemed like limbs and roots that were protruding from the dirt sides of the hole and landed heavily.

Jeremy shook off the pain and was quickly on his feet.  What he saw was a chamber with a ten foot high ceiling that reached into the dark in all directions, but he was able to note two things.  First, the columns above seem to spring from the this lower chamber, and second that the ceiling of this chamber and the floor above were the same chunk of dirt and stone, with long wooden supports.  Most importantly, the living dead were encased in this dirt and as far as he could see the legs, arms, torsos and heads of zombies that had been buried alive here stuck out of the ceiling.  The instability of the floor above extended to the ceiling down here, and several zombies were shaken loose.  Dressed in tattered and rotting workman’s clothes, they ambled towards the warrior, black wiry hair protruding from their nearly fleshless heads.

Jeremy had a sword in each hand.  He heard Derek call from above.

“I know, I got four of them in front of me right now,” Jeremy called back.  “I can take ‘em.”

He stepped forward and cut one across the forearm as it reached for him, but did not notice that in the hole above, a zombie had finally been able to pull itself free of the dirt and was climbing to the chamber above.

Kazrack crawled towards the hole on his belly, trying to distribute his weight to keep more of the floor from collapsing.  He peeked over the side in time to see a zombie arm come reaching up to pull its body up and out of the hole.

Whack! Derek sunk his battleaxe into its skull, sending it plummeting back down the hole.  Whack! Ratchis’ blade echoed the blow, as the half-orc moved about the room decapitating cowering zombies.  They still shivered in mindless fear of the divine might of the gods of good.

Jeremy was bobbing and weaving and knocking dead flailing limbs away from him with his blades.  There was the sound of shifting dirt and stone and in the cloud he made up two more forms coming out of the darkness.  He looked to his right and there was another he hadn’t seen before.  He was surrounded.  

Jeremy sheathed his swords and in one smooth action leapt straight up driving his hands into the dirt and scrambling to gain purchase with his feet.  The zombies grabbed at him as he leapt, but it was too sudden a move, and their slow undead bodies could not react in time.  He hustled up the hole, holding himself on either side.

“Somebody give me a hand!” Jeremy reached up and found Kazrack there to haul him up.  Derek and Ratchis finished the last of the zombies.

Ratchis lowered his sword and wiped sweat and gore from his ridged and swollen brow.  He walked back towards the others and then started at some movement near the back of the chamber where they had entered.

“Is everyone alright?” Beorth was asking Kazrack, who had walked over to check on him.

“There’s another one here!” Ratchis cried out seeing what it was that had caught his eye.  It was another of the black armored skeletal Minions lurking to the left of the entrance, shadowed there at the edge of the light.

Kazrack hurried about one of the pillars in time to join his companion in seeing the Minion take a hack at one of the chains attached to the counter-weights.  There was a metallic snap and the chain flew back, and the metal door to chamber jerked and one side dropped considerably.   The metal creaked and squealed in protest.

“Beorth, can you stand?” Jeremy threw out an arm and helped to haul the paladin to his feet.

“Jeremy, get me my staff,” the paladin asked, calmly.

Kazrack ran to towards the Minion, roaring, and chopping into it with his pole-axe. 

Ratchis came running to join him, but at that same moment, the divine fear that had filled the remaining cowering zombies left their dead limbs, and one turned, slamming a fist into the half-orc’s face.  Ratchis retaliated with a deep chop of his sword, which made blue-black embalming fluid begin to spurt from the thing’s neck, but still it did not let him by.

Martin moved to stand by the remaining, chain.  He gulped, knowing that he could not do much to slow it if it got past Kazrack.

Derek hacked another zombie, as the armored Minion ignored Kazrack and moved past him towards the other chain. 

“We can’t let it trap us in here!” Martin cried out.  Kazrack swung his halberd backhand and chopped into the thing again, but it did not fall as the armor absorbed most of the blow.   Belear hurried over and his warhammer slammed into the thing as well, but still it did not fall, nor did it even look at its foes.  Whatever it had that passed for a mind was focused on the chain alone.

There was a loud ‘clang’ as the undead thing’s sword slammed into the second chain. Luckily, the link the blade hit was only scored and bent, but did not give.

Jeremy tossed Beorth his staff.

The Minion deftly parried more blows from both Belear and Kazrack. Martin suddenly remembered that he still had his _shield_ spell up and stood so that his body touched the chain.  Now the magic shield also block the chain.   The Minion’s blade bounced off the invisible shield, but then was amazingly in position to ward off Derek’s axe, as the young woodsman had come running over.

Ratchis still struggled with the remaining zombie.

Jeremy drew his long sword and charged the thing, having to push past Derek to get his blow in, which crunched the thing’s skull easily.  It crumbled to the ground.  As if in echo, the great metal door groaned again as it settled more, but the remaining chain still held.

Beorth hobbled over to aid, Ratchis and slammed the thing in the head.  It turned slightly, as if to regard this new danger, and Ratchis removed its head with his own sword.

The chamber was quiet for a moment.

“Hey there are door over here,” Blodnath called from the far end of the chamber.

“Are you alright down there?” Captain Adalar called from out in the shaft, he was finally getting to climb down into the pit.

“Yes,” Jeremy called back, but added sarcastically.  “Thanks for asking.”

Below, more zombies shuffled mindlessly and droned their undead moan incessantly.

*End of Session #43*

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

(1) Derek’s species enemy is the orc.

(2) *DM’s Note:* Beorth was at exactly zero hit points.


----------



## handforged

*Re: conclusion of session #43*



			
				nemmerle said:
			
		

> *
> Derek turned from the harmless, yet disturbing, still flailing limbs of a zombie he had butchered in time to see come around Martin to put himself between the watch-mage and the cowering zombies on the other side of the statue.   What the Neergaardian had not noticed, were the minute cracks now spreading out along the tiles.  The floor gave out beneath his booted feet and he yelped, twisting his body to jump back to where he had come from.  Instead, he disappeared into the darkness below.
> *




I believe that it should be Jeremy instead of Derek.

Other than that, I loved this update!  The FMK's finally got to kick butt in a big battle.  They obviously had a tough time of it, but there were some very heroic moments.  I loved Derek's tumble, Ratchis and Kazrack's rushing to defeat the Minons, Martin's ingenious use of the Shield spell, and Jeremy's jump and climb from the level below, which was very well written btw.  It seemed as though Beorth didn't get to do quite as much, but took the most damage, which is heroic in its own way I suppose.

The imagery was awesome.  I could really picture the inside of this room, and the thought of a suspended burial ground, rife with undead corpses was just amazing.  Great job.

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

*Re: Re: conclusion of session #43*



			
				handforged said:
			
		

> *
> 
> I believe that it should be Jeremy instead of Derek.
> 
> Other than that, I loved this update!  The FMK's finally got to kick butt in a big battle.  They obviously had a tough time of it, but there were some very heroic moments.  I loved Derek's tumble, Ratchis and Kazrack's rushing to defeat the Minons, Martin's ingenious use of the Shield spell, and Jeremy's jump and climb from the level below, which was very well written btw.  It seemed as though Beorth didn't get to do quite as much, but took the most damage, which is heroic in its own way I suppose.
> 
> The imagery was awesome.  I could really picture the inside of this room, and the thought of a suspended burial ground, rife with undead corpses was just amazing.  Great job.
> 
> ~hf *




Yes, it was Jeremy. . .  now fixed! 

Now, this is the kind of reply I like. . . not only because it is complimetary  - but because it refers to specific stuff. .   Hand-forged, you have a lot more ass-kicking to look forward to - trust me.   

At the end of this adventure it was estimated that the FMK had destroyed something in the neighborhood of 300 zombies!


----------



## Baron Opal

*Lost Book of Nemmerle*

Nemmerle-

I came to the end of the Book II thread and the link leading to the episodes past #24 is broken. Could you update the link or redirect me? Thanks. I'm really enjoying the story and would like to finish Book II before starting on this thread.

Baron Opal


----------



## el-remmen

[redacted]


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #44*

*Session #44*

Part One: Slow and steady wins the race. . . 

“There is magic here,” Kazrack said.  He was holding three of his runestones in his open palm and looking from them to the right door at the rear of the chamber.  “It is very strong.  Stronger than I think any of us can cast.”

The door was made of bluish-black stone, and framed in a black stone.  They broke the continuity of the mosaic that encompassed three of the chamber’s four walls.

Beorth was examining the mosaic and taking in the story it told of a man’s birth, life and then his journey into the afterlife.

Belear, Ratchis and Kazrack had dispensed the healing miracles of the their respective deities, and the group felt strong after their victory.

It was agreed that Captain Adalar would remain on the lowest level of the shaft with the three young brothers, Baervard, Helrahd and Kirla, in order to guard the exit.  They were in a position where they could be called for support, or to prepare the escape.  This was also where the others, Ratchis, Kazrack, Martin, Jeremy, Derek, Blodnath, Belear and Beorth, would return to camp when fatigue suggested that a day was done.

“I can attempt to break the enchantment on the morrow when I can prepare my orisons and prayers,” Belear said.

The other door was askew, as the stone above it was cracked and pressed down on it.  The passage beyond was clearly collapsed.  Kazrack and Blodnath began to examine it to insure that it did not speak ill of the integrity of the rest of the area.

“I think the hole in the floor pretty much shows us this place isn’t stable,” Derek quipped, winking at Jeremy, who chuckled.

Kazrack frowned at the party’s newest member.

It was agreed that they’d camp here for the night to guard the remaining chain and their way in and out to this portion of the subterranean structure that went deeper than any save Beorth expected.  They were afraid something might emerge from the doors or the crack in the tiled floor and cut the remaining chain, blocking them from probing deeper without great effort of getting through the heavy plated metal door.

As they did not need to rest and prepare spells, Derek, Blodnath and Jeremy took turns watching while the others slept (except of course, for Martin).


Isilem, the 16th of Prem – 565 H.E.

It was hard to tell if the sun was shining above, but hours later they all awoke in the dark.   Martin lit a torch, and commented that the party was running out of natural light sources now that both lanterns had been lost. 

The watch-mage used his _mending_ spells to fix the broken chain links of the door, while Jeremy held them together, and Beorth propped the door with Derek’s help.  Ratchis, Kazrack and Belear prayed and prepared their spells, and soon Ratchis was using the _lesser restoration_ prayer to restore some of Beorth’s strength and some of his own from the battle with the final shadow the previous day.

After sharing some rations, everyone gathered and waited while Belear tried his hand at breaking the enchantment on the right hand door.  He chanted some words in dwarvish and reached forward as if to touch the door with his open palm, but stopped short and grunted.

Wiping sweat from his brow, he stepped back and sighed.

“I believe I successfully broke of the spells on the door, but I think there may have been more than one,” the elder priest said. 

In a moment, Ratchis cast an orison and he could see the blue dweomer shimmering on the door.  He nodded in agreement with the dwarven priest.

“I will open the door,” Kazrack said. 

Ratchis shrugged and Jeremy rolled his eyes.

“I will cast some of my gods’ blessings upon me to help protect me when I do,” Kazrack added.  He always seemed flustered at the party’s reactions to his willingness to risk his life. 

Martin looked to Beorth nervously, but the paladin’s face was placid as always.  

Kazrack got down on one knee before the door and prayed to his gods in his racial tongue.  “Lords and Lady please watch over me.  Forever guide me in the right direction and help me to resist all things that would take from that path whether they be dangers or temptations.” (1)

Kazrack stood and pushed at the door.  It was very heavy, and he had to put his weight into it.  The sound of stone scraping on stone filled the room, and the frame settled as the weight of the door came off of it.  Suddenly, Kazrack felt the door move in a strange way and he flinched back.  The door was open a crack, but the surface of it was changing, melding into the protruding face of gnome, with a large mole on its nose, and scaly skin.

“Found the lair of my father have you?” The stone moved as if fluid, moving the jaws and lips.  The voice was shrill, like a gnome gargling shards of glass with his ale.  “Well, let _this_ be a lesson to ya!”

Everyone froze, and could feel every muscle in their body tense up.  All except Kazrack, who quickly turned away from the door in horror of what was about to happen.  Martin braced himself for whatever horrible spell was about to be released by the opening of the door.

But nothing happened.

It was silent for another moment, and then everyone let a breath out.  Belear must have successfully dispelled the warding spell, but the _magic mouth_ had still been there.

“There is something very satisfying about that,” Jeremy said.

Martin nodded.   

Kazrack and Ratchis pushed the heavy stone door straight back.  It fit into a nook opposite it, making the entrance lead right into a narrow hall that turned right, and led down a very narrow and very steep staircase of small steps. 

Kazrack quickly wedged pitons into the crease around the stone block that served as a door to keep from it being pushed back in place from the other side, though how one might get to the other side was unclear to him.   He snorted at the shoddy and unmaintained workmanship of this place, and thought of the secret dwarven carved chambers of his people back in Verdun (2), and of the dim memories of his youth in Llurgh-Splendar-Tor.  His brief hammerfalls echoed through the narrow corridor, sand and grit poured from the creases between stones.

Ratchis ducked his head, as he lead the way, long sword in hand.  The rest followed, Jeremy taking up the rear, both he and Martin carried among the last of the party’s torches.

“I’m the rear guard from Neergaard!” Jeremy guffawed.   Derek snickered, and Martin rolled his eyes.

“Keep it quiet back there,” Ratchis hissed, looking back over his shoulder.

“What was that Ratchis?” Jeremy exaggerated the gesture of putting his free hand to his ear. “I can’t hear you over Beorth and Kazrack stamping around in their armor!”

Ratchis growled.  Derek frowned at Jeremy, but had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing.  

At the bottom of the steps, the narrow corridor turned left, and obviously opened into some kind of chamber.  There was a wooden sarcophagus leaning upright in the corner.  Ratchis noted the absence of many cobwebs across the narrow corridor.  Someone had been here, and had been here often, but perhaps not that recently.  

Ratchis stepped past the sarcophagus, and stepped to the right leaving room for Kazrack and others to come past.  Beorth stopped at the sarcophagus, and spoke a quiet prayer.  He then pulled it open to ensure its occupant was not animated.  A cloud of bone dust erupted when it was open, and the clatter of the disturbed shards.   He enlisted Kazrack’s help in lower in it down.  The paladin spoke another prayer over it, and then pushed it to the side out of the way. 

This was a small antechamber that was connected by a narrow hallway to a longer and wider room. It was mostly cloaked in darkness.   They crept in to find an office or lab of sorts.  On the right was a stone slab like a body might be laid out on.  Above it, built into the corner of the wall was a book shelf.  There were nine books.  The third one was larger, squarer and thicker.  Across from this on the left was a wooden desk covered in papers.  There were shards of glass scattered atop them, and all over the floor.  A rotting wooden chair lay on its side, among puddles of some deep blue liquid, and bright red liquid that poured from the desktop.  Where the liquids met they did not mix, but the red flowed quickly over the blue, pooling on the other side.  At the head of the room was an immense bronze statue of woman.   

Kazrack moved forward never taking his eyes off the statue, but being careful not step in the strange liquid.  Beorth came up behind him.  Martin made his way forward and got down on all fours to examine the liquid.

The woman in the statue had four arms.  The upper right and the lower left held curved bladed swords that looked like over-sized butcher knives.  The upper left hand was making a clawing motion, while the lower right held a bronze depiction of a human head by its wire hair.  Despite the fact that she had four breasts, and her expression was filled with rancor, full lips retracted to reveal sharpened teeth, she still had a menacing beauty about her. The statue was bolted to the wall from its bat-like wings in order to give her the appearance of coming through the wall, and leaping over her pedestal.   She had tiny horns nearly hidden by her long flowing hair. Despite its content, Kazrack was flabbergasted by the workmanship.  Immediately below the statue, flanked by cold bronze braziers was a stone sarcophagus atop a slab of stone.  There were no markings on the sarcophagus of any kind, but there was a large metal padlock gleaming as it hung through metal rings sunk into the stone.

Ratchis began to carefully pull the books off the shelf and pass them down to Derek who laid them out on the stained stone slab.  He noted that there were silver markings on the spines of the books, circles and vertical lines; as if numbering them.  The markings seemed to have been added long after the books’ binding.

Martin had moved over to the desk, lifting the hem of his robes to keep them from dragging into the unidentifiable liquids.  He shuffled through the papers.  The tips of the crusty parchment crumbled to dust in his hands, and he began to turn them more carefully.  They were written in some flowing script that reminded him of root dwarven runes from which the common script is based. (3) However, there was marginalia obviously written a lot more recently, and in the coded script of the gnomish people, called Binar. 

Kazrack dropped three runestones into his hand spoke a prayer.  Soon he was checking the room for magical auras.  The lock on the sarcophagus shone brightly, only slightly less bright were aura around the second and fourth books that had been taken down from the shelf.

“We are running out of torches and thus light,” Beorth commented.  Kazrack nodded.  Ratchis and Martin, however, were too busy looking to the statue.

“Who is she?” Martin asked aloud, pointing to the statue.

“Obviously, she is a demon of some kind,” Ratchis replied.

“Mozek’s mother?” Kazrack asked.

“Could be,” Martin replied.  “Though the warding on the door made reference to what we can only assume was Mozek’s father.”

“You think this place was his?” Beorth asked.  He had to struggle to remember all the fractured details that Jana had given him about the gnomes, the fiends and the other troubles the party had been involved with, as his own memory of it all was blank.

“Even a gnome could build a place better than this,” Kazrack said, gesturing to the architecture.

“It seems too old,” Martin speculated.  “Even gnomes do not live this long.  My guess is he found it.”  The watch-mage flipped through one of the books that did not detect as magical.  Inside he found better-preserved pages in the same script, and more gnomish marginalia. 

‘Do you think he wrote these books?” Beorth asked.

“I think he found them,” Martin replied.  “He obviously translated them.  The marginalia could be bits of translation, or if he knew the language well could be notes about whatever they say.”

“You can’t read them?” Kazrack asked.

“I don’t quite recognize the script,” Martin said.  He began to flip through another book and saw many plates with anatomical drawings of types of undead.  “It seems like some ancient form of common, or maybe a corrupt form of dwarvish. 

Kazrack walked over and looked.  He cocked his head and grunted.  “I can’t make heads or tails of it.”

“Nor can I,” Belear said, he was flipping through another book.

“On the morrow I can cast a spell that will help me comprehend what is written here,” Martin said.

“Lehrethonar grants me a similar miracle,” Kazrack said.   Martin nodded.

“In the meantime, let’s put them away,” Ratchis interjected.

The books were split up among the party.  Jeremy carried the biggest and heaviest one – but each of the books covers seemed to be metal covered in some kind of black (or stained) reptilian hide. They were heavy.

“And what about light?” Beorth asked.

Ratchis looked down at the chair, and then over at the desk.  After a ton of noise, these were smashed into makeshift torches.  The extra lantern oil (now that they had no lanterns) was used to soak the large wooden sticks, and a winter blanket was shredded and also dipped in oil and wrapped around the heads of them.  They would not be as good as torches made by an expert, but they would do for now.  In all they were able to make two-dozen makeshift torches.  These were divvied up as well.

Kazrack was looked around the room, and noticed a trap door in the floor to the left of the statue and behind a brazier.  The brazier was moved.  Blodnath came forward and looked for traps while Derek looked on from over his shoulder.  Jeremy crowded the old dwarf as well, and he hissed and spit at them, gesturing for them to move away.

“But I know how to do that stuff,” Derek said.  

“That’s nice kid,” Blodnath said.  “Maybe if you keep distracting me I won’t find the trap and when I did you can take a turn, eh?”

Derek frowned, and he and Jeremy moved away.  Almost immediately, Blodnath leapt up to his feet and shook his head, “It’s safe.  There ain’t nothing here.”

He reached down and pulled it open.   There was a shower of dust below.  He moved out of the way to let the others by.  Kazrack went down first, followed closely by Ratchis.

  Below was a short metal ladder leading down to a very small passage that went off to the left, and it was so low Ratchis had to get down on his knees to get through it.  Fortunately, it was not very long and after about twenty feet opened up in an area with another ladder going up.  Ratchis opened the trap door above and immediately heard a shuffling sound and a very deep grinding moan.

“There are undead up here,” the half-orc called down and leapt up out of the trapdoor to leave room for Kazrack who quickly climbed up.  Beorth and Jeremy were close behind him.  Beorth held a torch.

Ratchis moved forward in the narrow passage with taller vaulted ceilings and little alcoves holding embalmed dead and skeletons on either side.  Ahead the passage broadened into a room, Ratchis could see a pillar, but then his view was blocked.   Towards him lurched a nine-foot tall muscular humanoid, but its leathery hide was blackened, and it wore a leather harness, as if it had once been used as a beast of burden.  It forehead was swollen, and its eyes vacant.

“Ogre zombies!” Ratchis cried out and stepped forward to where the chamber widened to hold the entrance, holding his sword up to strike when they reached him.  Unfortunately, Ratchis forgot that the things fists could reach him before the body would be in range of his blade.  He felt the knotted fists of the thing slam him with incredible might on the neck and shoulders, and he crumbled to the ground.  The other ogre zombie, reached down and slammed him again in the side of the head.  Ratchis moaned and tried desperately to roll back to his feet, though the pain was excruciating.

Kazrack came leaping over his companion, light flail in hand to deal with the narrow space, but there was a resound crack as the undead ogres slammed their meaty fists in the dwarf’s face.  Kazrack’s blow never connected, he found himself lying on his back beside Ratchis. 

Beorth did not hesitate.  While the ogre arms were still outstretched, and recoiling back to strike again, the paladin leapt within their reach and calling upon the _divine vengeance_ of his god, cracked the closer one’s skull open.  One of its milky eyeballs burst and dribbled down its face, as the other side of the staff slammed into its chin. 

The paladin moved aside, allowing Derek and Jeremy to move in the narrow confines of the chamber and the corridor.  Jeremy tore open one of its legs, while Derek’s battle-axe bit into its ribs.  It fell over, pouring gray-blue embalming fluid across the sandy floor.

Derek slipped past the lumbering hulk, but was surprised to see two more of the thick forms shambling out of the rear of the passage which continued past this small chamber.

“There are more!” he warned, as Ratchis scrambled to his feet and asked Nephthys to bless some stone he picked up off the ground.

Jeremy ducked a blow by the remaining ogre zombie at the front of the chamber, while Derek scrabbled to avoid the blows of the two that came into the room from the other side.

“I could use a little help here,” Derek whined.  

Jeremy parried the blow of the ogre before him, and using the force of the dead arm pressed down on the flat of his blade to swing his body towards Derek, and then drawing his short sword with his left hand he shoved it deeply into the gut of one of the zombies menacing Derek.  

“That’s what you get for going ahead by yourself,” Jeremy quipped with a smile. “Who do you think you are, Kazrack?”

He followed this up with a slash across its chest; a piece of rib ricocheted back and forth across the room for a moment, but the thing would not fall.   Derek finished it off with a chop of his axe.  

Kazrack got his wind back and stood, slamming the head of his flail against the first ogre zombie.  It did not fall.  

Ratchis was able to get past it and threw one of his stone at the ogre at the rear of the chamber, that still reached dumbly for Derek.  The stone smashed the thing’s yellowed teeth and lodged itself in the roof of its mouth.  It did not react.

The ogre in front ignore Kazrack and turned around to swing at Jeremy, who just barely noticed in time.  The thing’s dead fist slammed the stone wall instead, leaving a round impression of cracks in its surface.  Derek was not so lucky and he felt his back strike the wall, as a zombie fist nearly caved in his chest.

Kazrack roared, feeling a fury enter him that he rarely felt. It was as if Krauchaar’s invigorating ales had been poured down his gullet. (4)  He slammed the ogre before him in the shin, and it cracked.  A long splinter of bone burst out of the thing’s thick skin and it fell over to the right, its head crunching as it slammed against the stone wall.  It was now a huge obstacle of dead rotting meeting wedged between the walls of the narrow chamber.  It was pinned there, askew and at an angle, partially blocking the view of Ratchis, Derek and Jeremy in the other part of the room.

Martin, Belear and Blodnath made it to the narrow chamber, but could not get past Kazrack and the two huge bodies right there.

Ratchis tossed another stone.  This one caught the thing in the neck and its jugular vein snapped, spraying the caustic embalming fluid on Derek.  The young woodsman moved back out of the spray, coughing and spitting, and rubbing his eyes with the butt of his left hand.

The ogre pushed past Derek and slammed a fist into Ratchis’ face, but Jeremy’s long sword struck it in temple at the same instant.  And it stopped moving.

“No need to thank me,” Jeremy said to Ratchis, sheathing his swords.

Ratchis grunted.

“What do you think these things were doing here?” Kazrack asked, rubbing his neck where he had been struck.

“Work horses,” Ratchis replied. He pointed to the leather harnesses on the monsters.  They were probably used to carry or cart heavy things.  Those metal rings on the back of the harness were probably used to connect them to the stones and things used to make this place so they can could be dragged around.”

“Undeath is the worst form of slavery,” Beorth muttered.

“Not even an ogre deserves it,” Ratchis added.

“I think they were used to push the stone door back in place,” Derek said, slinking ahead to see a narrow alcove where a large block had been slide from the other side.  “We are behind the door that led into this area.”

Some time was spent looking for hidden or disguised doors or passageways, but the stone gave away nothing – even to trained dwarven eyes.

“There is nowhere else left to go,” Martin said, as everyone came back out into the central chamber.

“There’s one place…” Jeremy pointed to the crack in the floor, where the statue had gone through, along with Jeremy.

“Yes, there are more undead down there,” Beorth added.  “At the very least we have to deal with them, so we might as well explore.”

“I am not sure that there is much here worth staying for,’ Belear said, solemnly.  “Do not forget the gnomes and do not forget that our people are endangered by the dark elves by your own admission.” 

“The books might be the key to helping us defeating the fiendish gnomes,” Martin said.  “And they obviously have something to do with this place.”

“This place is tainted,” Beorth said.  “I must know more about it, and I must destroy all undead I come across. I may not remember taking my vows as a ghost-hunter of Anubis, but I know that I made them in my heart and in my spirit.  I will not abandon them.”

“No one is asking you to abandon them, Beorth,” Ratchis said, softly, the rasp of his voice making him almost indecipherable. “And I agree that we have to search below.  It will take time to translate the books and this is a foul place that needs to be cleansed in the meantime.”

Kazrack and Martin nodded.

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders.

“I am here to help Martin the Green and thus help you all,” Derek motioned to the rest of the Fearless Manticore Killers. “And if you need me here, I guess here is where I’ll be. That dragon doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.”

Martin shot the young man a look. 

“We’re going down,” Kazrack said.  “Blodnath, ready the ropes.”

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

(1) *DM’s Note:* Kazrack cast both _Resistance_ and _Guidance_ before opening the door.
(2) The small dwarven community of Verdun is very ghettoized living in an isolated area of the Residential District.  They have secret tunnels and chambers beneath they city where they gather and worship.
(3) The modern common script is based on elvish letters, but the common tongue itself has is greatly influenced by dwarven, and early writings emulated that race’s runes.
(4) Among Krauchaar’s followers are the furious _Tavern Brawlers_, who can drink themselves into a rage where they feel no pain and swing their weapons with great strength.


----------



## el-remmen

*DM's Perspective*

*Disclaimer*: These are just my opinions on the development and psychology of the members of the Fearless Manticore Killers - and have no real bearing on how the players themselves see their characters or how they play them - and no judgement as to these facets or "right" or "wrong" - they are just observations and opinions on the characters themselves - based on this point of the story.

I have to say at this point in the story it is the character developments and dynamics that interest me most.  I found myself (as still find myself) intrigued with how Ratchis and Kazrack became the de facto leader by way of just being the loudest and most opinionated members of the party.  However, Kazrack's fervor and faith which often times makes him appear as if he has a deathwish - can come off as kooky.  It definitely comes off as kooky to his fellow adventurers and to the NPC dwarves - not because he is a _funny_ character - but because of just he opposite - he is so serious about his choices and the things that come off as bizarre to others that it makes him seem even more kooky. 

I ike that word: kooky.

Ratchis, as the story has mentioned has grown arrogant - I think it is because he is the kind of character who was used to acting and doing on his own - and thus the occasional indecisiveness on the part of his companions leads him to lead - to make decisions for everyone just to ensure something happens - he takes the weight of the world on his shoulders - the irony in my opinion is that Ratchis does not know how to treat people as equals - I think in his heart he beleives this and his conscious choices are made on this belief - but not all choices or behavior is conscious - Those familiar with Ratchis' origins will know that he spent time abused by his orc tribe, as a slave for humans and then later as a just a solitary woodsman helping people when he could, but bullying and intimidating hunters and others - Even though ostensibely he was the equal of the friars of Nephthys who took him from there to train him, he was their student and listened to them - essentially, he only know how to deal with people either as those who can tell him what to do and those that will listen to them when he tells or intimidates them into doing something - because he trusts himself and his choices and morals before anyone else's.

Jeremy and Derek's growing friendship is also of great interest to me - I think since his death and before Derek's arrival, Jeremy was with the party out of sense of duty as much as for the sense of adventure and the sense of doing the right thing by people (i think in that order of importance - but remember, these are just my perspective -the players (if they ever friggin' posted here) might have different opinions - but as he and Derek "got to know each other better" (i.e. the player former playing Jana now had a character Jeremy could relate to) he was able to recapture some of the character elements from earlier in the campaign and from the original idea where he and Malcolm (remember him?) would be inseparable friends - causing mischief and leading each other into trouble - perhaps Jeremy is a bit more wizened (he did go from a 7 wisdom to an 8 at 4th level) so he would not be as wild as the early days - but that part of his personality is still there,

Beorth is really the most interesting for me - because I think that his lack of memory has caused him to really grasp on to the ethos of his god even stronger than before - it is the only thing he knows he can count on and that feels 100% right all the time because he feels it in his spirit - even though he has forgotten some technical things -there are things the soul never forgets and his god has not forgotten him and that is a pretty powerful realization.  However, it makes him more of an extreme character - living up to the perception of what a follower of Anubis is supposed to be - not what he knows it is supposed to be based on his training.  This has led him to grow increasingly isolated from the rest of the party - because Jana (who is now dead) was the only one who ever really took the time to make sure he was filled in on lots of the details of what the party had been doing - and who knows what kind of spin she put on things for her own benefit.

Finally, there is Martin the Green - and I have to admit he is a mystery even to me - his confidence seem to either plateau or crumble without making any headway - though I think his player plays him well (might pay better attention to his notes, but whatcha gonna do?) - though in the more recent sessions he has been using his noodle more to help figure stuff out and has been more effective in combat - characterwise all I could see him developing at this point was an increased sense of inevitable doom. . .  And maybe he is right - maybe the Fearless Manticore Killers are destined to die forgotten in some crypt somewhere - or in the threshold of Hurgun's Maze - the question is how will this "knowledge" effect how he acts. . . .?


----------



## Ciaran

You have a pretty good handle on all of the characters.  This is good, given that you're the DM and all.    The fact that all of the PCs have very extreme character traits makes for interesting roleplaying, but it also prevents the kind of group cohesion and friendship that often manifests in adventuring parties.  Kazrack, Ratchis and Beorth are too focused on their respective dogmas to really unbend and connect with one another, while Martin is too obsessed with the group's inevitable doom.  

Martin, unfortunately, is a relatively weak-willed individual caught up in the wake of a group of people much more aggressive than he, and this has prevented him from properly blossoming as an individual.  He needs a certain amount of respect from others in order to develop confidence in his own abilities and decisions, and this group simply isn't going to give it to him.  

- Eric


----------



## el-remmen

You could hear a church mouse's heartbeat in this friggin' thread


----------



## handforged

sorry for the quietude, Nemm.

It is most likely that people were so awed by your writing that they knew not what to say.

I for one can also claim that I have been unable to get online for a while.  I enjoyed reading your thoughts on the character development.  It will be interesting to see if the party stays together.  It seems that they have less and less of a reason to.

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

handforged said:
			
		

> *It will be interesting to see if the party stays together.  It seems that they have less and less of a reason to.
> 
> ~hf *




Eh?  What gave you that impression?


----------



## Jon Potter

nemmerle said:
			
		

> *You could hear a church mouse's heartbeat in this friggin' thread  *




Yeah, but we're really appreciative, rapid-fan  church mice.

Well, at least I am.


----------



## Ciaran

nemmerle said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Eh?  What gave you that impression? *



Oh, maybe it's the seeming near-total lack of friendship and bonding between party members, with only Jeremy and Derek willing to give one another the time of day.    Yeah, the group is held together by a common cause, but by not much else.  I can certainly see how a reader might wonder if, say, Kazrack will go off with the dwarves and leave the party after the Necropolis sequence.

- Eric


----------



## Manzanita

I, for one, am a truly rabid churchmouse.  

There's a lot holding this party together, including the fact that they're contracted to rid the land of a dragon and they would be criminals if they neglect this duty.  They also share a common conern for the gnomes and good in general.  I'm impressed how "Good" this group is.  The paladin doesn't stand out as more good than the rest, which is rare in my experience role-playing.  It seems unlikely many members of this party would abandon this group with its potential to promote the cause of good so effectively.


----------



## rigur

Don't believe for one minute we aren't here just because you can't hear us, were here alright watching, waiting, more waiting and then reading with manic fervour.

Richard


----------



## handforged

Here are the bonds as I see them.

Jeremy owes people for their life-quests
Jeremy and Derek are friends
Kazrack and Ratchis are friends, but separated by their religions
Everyone works for the king
Everyone wants to help the gnomes

I agree that everyone is Good overall, and that might provide a bond, but there is no reason for them to have to fight the good fight together.  Ratchis specifically seems like he would be just as happy out on the road on his own again.  The dragon-hunting seems like it would be easily shirked.  The only killer bond is that some of the party members have quests to complete for Osiris that will be quite hard to complete without help.

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

It is notable that Nephthys has "friendship" as part of her portfolio (as friendship is willingly bonding yourself to someone else (as opposed to the compulsion of charm or slavery) - but somehow I think that would be Ratchis' weak point in his serving of his goddess - despite the fact that he and Kazrack are friends even though historically they should be enemies because of their origins.

Anyway, I started working on the next installment last night - so look for one perhaps by the end of the week.


----------



## Jon Potter

nemmerle said:
			
		

> *Anyway, I started working on the next installment last night - so look for one perhaps by the end of the week. *




*Huzzah!*


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

*Sits timidly in my mousehole in church,  from which only another update or a hefty hunk of cheese will draw me*

W00T, update imminent 

In addition to the party bonds listed by others, consideration must be given to:
Beorth linked to party as they are the only people he's sure he knew before he lost his memory.
The comrades they have lost to evils that still plague the lands would have brought them closer together.
This may be stretching a bit- but wasn't there some earlier trouble with the law in Gothanius, but they were allowed to go free if they stayed under the supervision of the Watch-Mage? Or did that get cleared up when it was revealed they were acting in the king's best interest?


----------



## el-remmen

*Meanwhile. . .*



> *Interlude*
> 
> “Do you really think we should go down there?” Josef asked skeptically.  He held the hooded lantern close to his goatskin coat, and shielded the light even more.   Moisture that had collected on the warped trapped door dripped down in to the shaft, plinking off the iron ladder than led down into the darkness.
> 
> Carlos looked to Finn.
> 
> Finn rubbed his chin with a calloused hand.  He sorely wished was back on his family’s fishing boat heading into Corbay with a big haul of black sea bass, and not aching from too slowly recovering wounds, and clutching a long sword in his sweaty palm.
> 
> “We have to go down,” Frank said.  “Gwar is down there.  Other people are down there. I’m going down there with or without you guys.”   The former shepherd had not bothered to clean off his tunic after their last battle.  The blood of those they had recently killed slipped down the front in great clots.
> 
> Finn gagged, but nodded.
> 
> “Couldn’t we go back to town and find those friends of yours?” Josef tried another tack. “You know, the big half-breed guy and the dwarf?”
> 
> “We don’t have time,” Finn replied, wiping his mouth.  “That priest, or whatever he is, is up to no good and he has townspeople down there that he might kill or sacrifice before we get back with them, even if they are even anywhere around, which knowing them they are probably off actually facing the dragon.”
> 
> “I’ll go first,” Frank said, gruffly and moved to make his way down, but Carlos put out his arm and stopped him.
> 
> “Yo voy primero,” Carlos glared at the lone twin.  “I will go first.”   He laid his quarterstaff on the ground and then climbed down into the shaft, stopping to grab the staff again.
> 
> Frank sighed, and moved to follow.
> 
> “I’ll take the rear,” said Josef.
> 
> Finn looked at his weaselly companion, and clucked his tongue.
> 
> “What?  You think I’m gonna run out on you?” Josef feigned insult.
> 
> “If you don’t want to come I certainly won’t make you, but it’s on your conscience,” Finn said and began to make his way down.
> 
> Josef looked around at the dusty floor of the dusty rectory chamber they were in.   Moonlight made spindly shadows of the branches outside on the cracked tall and narrow stained glass windows.
> 
> He sighed and carefully climbed down, holding the lantern out as to not bang it.


----------



## el-remmen

Hope that whets your appetite. . .


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

It did indeed; I look forward to seeing what happens and how they figure into the story.



			
				nemmerle said:
			
		

> *Hope that whets your appetite. . .   *


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

The only problem with whetting our appetities- we're REALLY hungry for more after about.. ohhh.. 15 seconds?


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #44*

Part Two: How many zombies?  As many as it takes…

Kazrack held the knotted end of the rope between his feet, as he held the length tight to his chest.  Derek and Jeremy grunted as they lowered him into the rent in the floor of the main chamber, and the rope bit into the earth underneath the tile, sending a rain of pebbles and soil down on the dwarf.  The other end of the rope was fastened to one of the large pillars.  The earthen area between the floor of the chamber above and the ceiling of the chamber below was just nearly fifteen feet.  Kazrack tensed as he felt his feet go past the threshold of the misshapen shaft and into the room.  A moment later he was hanging in the room, the floor a little more than six feet below him.    The chamber down her was about the same size as the one above, and the column above seemed to have been anchored down here.  There were four round shafts into stained white stone that led off to the left and right (adding up to eight), and he could see the flailing limbs of zombies sticking out the earthen ceiling.  There was movement, and suddenly three more of the undead things dressed in dirty white servant’s clothing came lumbering towards the dwarvish bait.

“Natan-ahb!  Fill me with your divine might so that I may turn these abominations from your sight,” the dwarf bellowed, but the zombies did not halt.  The dwarf closed his eyes and brought a hand to his bag of runestones about his neck, and called to his god again.   He heard the things turn and scramble away, and he was lowered the rest of the way on to the dirt floor of this lower chamber.  There were empty sconces on the columns, and the zombies were climbing back into the shafts, which were about five feet off the floor.

Jeremy swung over the side and began to make his way quickly down, only occasionally using the rope to steady himself.  Above, Beorth awkwardly climbed over the side and tried to shimmy down the rope, while using his feet on the shaft wall to steady himself.    A little more than halfway down, he lost his footing and the rope burned through his hands.  He slammed the back of his head in the dirt and a cascade of stones preceded him as he tumbled down.  Jeremy hugged the wall as the clumsy paladin scraped past his back, just barely avoiding getting knocked down as well. Beorth slammed into Kazrack, and knocked them both prone, winding them.  

Jeremy halfway snickered, but the sound of the low moaning of the undead and the shuffling of their feet came to him from below when the sound of the falling dirt had settled.  He dropped down and nimbly swung out of the way of Kazrack and Beorth.  The dwarf was already on his feet, but Beorth was stunned, trying to stand and swooning, as he would collapse again.

“Natan-ahb!  This place is overrun with evil!  Again, I implore you to fill me with your essence so these thing may flee and let us do your good work!”

Jeremy swung down to the floor to avoid Kazrack and Beorth.  The paladin’s helmet glowed with the light of a spell, so Jeremy could see that while two zombies were fleeing, one more was coming from his left.  He did not see that one was emerging from the darkness behind him, ignoring Kazrack and Beorth to mindlessly go for the closest target.  It reached out to grab Jeremy’s neck.  The Neergaardian was unaware of his danger, when suddenly there was a grunt and the sound of something falling behind him.  He turned quickly to see Derek had dropped from somewhere further up the shaft and landed on a zombie.  Now the young huntsman and the animated corpse struggled to get back to their feet.

“You’re almost as crazy as I am,” Jeremy said mouth agape.   

Beorth cleared his head and stood, and with a quick motion of his long sword lopped the head off the prone zombie.  It convulsed for a moment and then stopped moving.

There was no time to relax.  There was rumbling sound and more dirt began to fall from the ceiling.  There was a cascade of stones and soil, as five zombies dropped in the chamber from the ceiling, knocked loose by the slight tremor.  Dust filled the air, and even where the magical light emanated vision was hampered.

Below, Jeremy had both of his blades out in a flash and chopped at one of the zombies than fell near him (widening the shaft at the bottom).  It looked up and the blonde warrior buried his longsword in its forehead.  It fell back down and stopped moving.

Above, Ratchis began a frantic, but measured descent, wanting to help his companions but worried he might fall and let loose more zombies and or even collapse the whole ceiling on those below.

Beorth wiped dust from his eyes and chopped weakly at a zombie reaching out at him.  It had a few wiry strands of black hair coming from its head, where the cracked skull was visible under a thin gray scalp.  The thing raised its fists to slam the paladin, but suddenly Derek was on his feet and chopping down with his battleaxe.  The zombie was now pieces of inanimate decaying meat on the ground.

“Again, I call on thee, Father of All Dwarves to cascade from me like the mighty waters of your cup!” Kazrack bellowed, again trying to turn undead, but it failed.  

The newly arrived zombies got to their feet, while another came lurched from the darkness and fell towards Beorth, who moved aside easily avoiding the awkwardly moving thing.  This one had been a woman in life and her flaccid shriveled breasts were thick with black veins.

Ratchis finally jumped down.

Jeremy hacked at another zombie with the tip of his long sword and was forced to yank it back as it got stuck in the thing’s breastbone.  It did not fall.  

Beorth called to Anubis to enchant his blade, while Ratchis and Kazrack moved forward to meet the coming dead.  

Blodnath climbed down and jumped to the floor, to find them all engaged with zombies.

Black ichor was spurting weakly from the stump of a zombie’s wrist, as Jeremy’s blades whirled magnificently in the bobbing light of Beorth’s helm. 

The chamber was filled with the sound of the hacking of dried decaying flesh and the cracking of bones.  The dirt floor was soon sopping with ichor and blood as the Fearless Manticore Killers spread out, calling to each other when more zombies were spotted in the dark corners.  More zombies were emerging from the horizontal shafts on one side of the chamber.

Blodnath was creeping along the walls, finding the cowering zombies that had fled from Kazrack’s display of divine power, as sliced their hamstrings.  When they fell, he’d hack at their skulls over and over with a wood-cutting hatchet, as his short sword was not as effective against the corporeal undead. (1)

“Beorth, when you are done there are three more in the corner on your left,” Kazrack called to the Paladin of Anubis, as his dwarven vision allowed him to see where the magical light could not reach.

More and more emerged from one of the set of shafts, and Jeremy moved directly in front of one, hacking limbs as they emerged, creating a nasty pile of flesh and limbs at his feet.  Soon, he and the rest of the party were covered in slimy black ichor.  Derek wiped the stuff from his eyes, and suddenly noticed a zombie lurching towards him.  Instinctively, he swung his axe, and he felt the resistance of the thing’s neck for a mere moment, and then giving way.  The zombie’s head flew across the chamber, but its body kept moving, for it could still seek out life to snuff even without its head.  It slammed black fist into Derek’s face, and the young huntsman groaned.

“No need to lose you head!” Jeremy quipped, and this time everyone groaned, but the Neergaardian had grown cocky, and as he rushed forward to rip out the headless zombie’s guts, he stepped on the head and lost his footing as it rolled away.  Jeremy tried to turn his body to slow his fall, but his head struck a pillar and he was stunned.  The headless zombie fell over and twitched for a moment and then stopped.

Kazrack hustled over to the deep niches the zombies were emerging from, and cut the arm from another that was emerging.  It fell awkwardly from the round passage, and he chopped down on it.  It stopped moving, but the dwarven rune-thrower was so involved in slaying that one that he did not notice one emerging from the shaft immediately next to him (the bottom of it being at about shoulder level.  He turned to look too late, as undead arms reached out and grabbed hold of him and starting dragging him up into the shaft with the strength of a dead laborer’s limbs.

Kazrack roared and broke free of the grip and nearly tripped as his booted feet touched the ground again.  He stepped away and whirled around.  Behind him, he could hear Ratchis calling to his goddess to heal the many scratches and bruises he was suffering from.

Jeremy got up to all fours, and the stumbled to his feet shaking his head.  

Derek’s arms began to throb from swinging his battle-axe back and forth relentlessly, and Blodnath having finished the turned zombies crept back to the rope.

But there was no time for rest, more and more of the black-haired zombie with graying skins stretched taught over their skulls, and dressed in dirty workman’s clothes, some with leather aprons that still held rusty chisels, shears, spades and other things continued to emerge from the shafts.  Already over a score of hacked zombies lay on the chamber floor, but there seemed to be no end of the source.

“Anubis, preserve us,” Beorth said under his breath.

*End of Session #44*



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

(1) Corporeal undead are resistant to damage from piercing weapons because the piercing of organs does not hinder their evil animate force.


----------



## handforged

That was good, I can't wait for more!!!  Thank you for all the time that you spend writing these wonderful stories.


----------



## Pillars of Hercules

*Still here!*

I haven't checked in a while, but I'm still reading and loving it.  Great humor by the PCs as they mow down zombies at first (one-liners, etc.).  Nice how it turns to horror as the party realizes that huge numbers of wimpy foes is still a big problem.


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

Quick realisation- Fortitude/Endurance checks for prolonged battles or be fatigued... is this one of the Realism tricks that you use in your campaign Nemmerle?

Quote:
“Again, I call on thee, Father of All Dwarves to cascade from me like the mighty waters of your cup!” Kazrack bellowed, again trying to turn undead, but it failed. 

Reading this it makes Kazrack's character seem to be played in even more depth, which is great- but how many of these quotes are from the player compared to for the sake of the story hour? If it's more of the former than kudos to the player, if the latter than kudos to you!

Thanks again for the time you put into this story hour- I had to give mine up due to reality intruding. Anyone know when they're going to move the Earth further from the sun so we can have 26 hour days??


----------



## Red Baron

*OT - sorry*

Hey, Look_a_Unicorn, is that handle a Tom Stoppard reference, or just a happy coincidence...?

Edit: Guess it would help if I spelled your name correctly, eh?


----------



## el-remmen

Look_a_Unicorn said:
			
		

> *Quick realisation- Fortitude/Endurance checks for prolonged battles or be fatigued... is this one of the Realism tricks that you use in your campaign Nemmerle?
> *




Nope.  But I do have a house rule whereas if a character is brought back to positive hit points from negative by means of magic and not rest - they are considered "exhausted" until they rest an extra hour and then are considered "fatigued" until a total of 8 hours of rest has been gained.



			
				Look_a_Unicorn said:
			
		

> *
> Quote:
> “Again, I call on thee, Father of All Dwarves to cascade from me like the mighty waters of your cup!” Kazrack bellowed, again trying to turn undead, but it failed.
> 
> Reading this it makes Kazrack's character seem to be played in even more depth, which is great- but how many of these quotes are from the player compared to for the sake of the story hour? If it's more of the former than kudos to the player, if the latter than kudos to you!
> *




That is all the players - in fact, I often have to cut a lot of that spell-casting and calling to the gods, etc. ..  for ease of reading and for space.  Ciaran (Martin the Green's player) keeps a quote log for the sessions - so that helps.

Thanks for reading. . .  I've already started on the next installment - but since my birthday is this weekend I doubt I'll get a chance to work on it until next week some time.


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

*Re: OT - sorry*



			
				Red Baron said:
			
		

> *Hey, Look_a_Unicorn, is that handle a Tom Stoppard reference, or just a happy coincidence...?
> 
> Edit: Guess it would help if I spelled your name correctly, eh?  *




No, the handle is just my Livejournal name, which was originally a reference to the movie Dude Where's My Car.
Most fun movie I've seen in the last 5 years. 

"Nope. But I do have a house rule whereas if a character is brought back to positive hit points from negative by means of magic and not rest - they are considered "exhausted" until they rest an extra hour and then are considered "fatigued" until a total of 8 hours of rest has been gained."

I remember you mentioning this a few threads back, I houseruled it then & it's made combat a lot more interesting, as characters go to insane steps to avoid falling below 0... though now more than one or two dangerous encounters are about the party's daily limit.

Happy Birthday! I hope you have friends generous enough to provide you with a full set of 3.5 books (if you don't have them already)


----------



## el-remmen

*Happy Birthday to Me!*

*Session #45*

“Nephthys, send these things away with your righteous might so that my companions and I may strike them down!” Ratchis cried out, swinging his scored chain belt over his head, but the zombies did not flee.  They kept coming.

Kazrack stepped further away from the niche where the zombie had tried to drag him away and he too called his gods.  Several of the zombies awkwardly began to shuffle back down the horizontal shafts, but other more came stumbling out of those on the far end.

Jeremy and Beorth ran at one that lumbered towards the dwarf, hacking it down with a flurry of sword blows.  Derek moved up to support them, and chopped down another one with a single blow.  Black blood and ichor mixed with sweat streamed out of the young man’s brown hair and down the side of his face.

“Ratchis! Beorth! What is going on down there?  Do you need help?” Martin called from above.  He grabbed the rope and started to finally make his way down.

The last few were mopped up, but a good number had fled back down the tunnels, filled with the fear of the dwarven gods.

Martin landed on the chamber floor with a grunt.

“They will be back soon,” Beorth said, wiping his brow and dropping the point of his sword into the mucky dirt.  He began to work at lighting on of the torches.

“Let me do that,” Martin said, and gesturing with his left hand the torch burst aflame and the paladin replaces burnt nub in one of the scones with his own; made from the furniture in the room above, it burned wildly, spitting and smoking as the pine tar finish ran down its length.

“How much longer will the power of your gods keep them at bay?” Ratchis asked Kazrack, and laying a hand on the dwarf’s head, called on his goddess’ power to heal. 

The dwarf was covered in innumerable bruises and cuts.   He cast a healing spell upon himself as well and then answered.

“I do not know.  The ways of all the gods are mysterious.”

Soon, Jeremy and Derek had two more torches burning in scones on the dark pillars.

“When they do return it will be easier to destroy them all here,” Beorth said, picking up his sword and wiping the blade of black ichor.  He sheathed.  “We can cut them down as they emerge from these long niches or tunnels or whatever they are.”

“Could it be that these other niches contain zombies?” Kazrack asked, turning and gesturing to the four tunnels on the opposite wall.

“That is possible,” Beorth replied.

“Well, let’s decide how we are going to handle this,” Kazrack began going through scenarios aloud.

Jeremy and Derek sighed in unison.  The Neergaardian wrung out his wispy blonde hair, for it was caked with blood and gore.  Derek leaned against a pillar and spit.

“I am going to scout out the niches,” Ratchis said, interrupting the one-sided conversation about tactics and began to march over to the ones where no zombies had emerged yet.

“Let us not be hasty,” Kazrack said. Martin nodded.

“Ratchis is right,” Beorth said.  “We should be proactive.  I will go with him.  I am not afraid.”

“This isn’t about being afraid,” Kazrack said. “It is about maximizing our effectiveness while destroying our enemy.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes, and elbowed Derek.  “This from the fellow who wouldn’t wear armor.”

Ratchis did not wait. He hopped up into one of the horizontal shafts and began to slowly make his way down it.  He had to crouch way down to make his way along it, as it was barely five feet tall.   He made his way down into the darkness that was gray to his orcish vision 35 or 40 paces, but found nothing.  The hulking Friar of Nephthys hurried back the best he could.

“They go down pretty far it seems,” he told his companions.  “I saw nothing.”

“They should be back by now,” Beorth said, and for a moment no one seemed to know what he meant, but the paladin gestured to the tunnels on the opposite side; down which the turned zombies had fled.

“Naw, those things are slow,” Jeremy said, clicking his tongue.  “If those passages are as long as Ratchis thinks, it could take them forever to get back.”

“No, it strikes me as strange as well,” Belear intoned.  The elder dwarf had just made his way down the rope with Blodnath’s help. He combed his black and gray beard with his fingers.  “Such things would return as soon as the fear of the gods left them, unless ordered to do something else, or there was another source of life closer by.”

Kazrack’s face grew worried.

“We have to see what is down there,” Ratchis said.  He hopped out of the tunnel he had scouted and moved across the room to begin going down one of the opposite ones.

“I would consider it an honor to go first,” Kazrack said, stepping before his half-orc companion and blocking his way.  “And, I am uniquely suited to this environment.”

Blodnath cleared his throat.

“_We_ are uniquely suited to this environment,” Kazrack gestured to Blodnath and Belear with a smile.

“I am going as well,’ Beorth said, flatly.

“Hey, you aren’t leaving us behind,” Jeremy spoke up and gestured to Derek who nodded his head, and patted the haft of his axe.

Martin shrugged his shoulders.

“We cannot all go, someone needs to guard the rope,” Kazrack said.   

Blodnath was sent back up and he called to the rest of the dwarves guarding the upper shaft the whole company had come down to arrive here.  It was agreed that Helrahd and Kirla would guard the rope, and if the wait were long, they would switch a shift with the triplets.

“How long until we come after you?” Captain Adalar asked.

“Belear and the others agreed that if we do not return to go seek out the gnomes and help them sa you can, it is more important.” Blodnath hurried out to climb back down.

The paired off and each chose a tunnel.

Derek and Ratchis took one with Ratchis leading the way.  Jeremy and Blodnath took the next one, with the white-haired dwarf taking the lead.  Kazrack and Martin took the third, and Beorth and Belear took the last, the dwarves leading in those cramped tunnels as well.

The humans (and Ratchis) awkwardly ambled along, led by the dwarves that marched stoutly along, happy to have the earth so close above their heads.   The tunnels were lined in smooth dressed stone, so obviously great care went into making them.  Kazrack’s fine dwarven senses noted that there was the slightest grade downward.

He mentioned this to Martin, who nodded, trying to keep from setting his shaggy and frizzed out red hair from catching fire. Random patches of red fuzz were splatter across his soft round face.  No one would ever guess he had not eaten in weeks. The watch-mage’s torch licked angrily at the tunnel ceiling.

The pairs crawled along slowly, unsure if the other pairs were safe even though they were only separated by a few feet of stone.  Ratchis tried tapping the stone, but decided it was pointless.   They could only go on.

Soon, Kazrack thought he heard something up ahead and stopped suddenly.  Martin nearly fell down.  

“What is it?” 

The dwarf placed a finger to his lips and then Martin heard it; the soft grinding groan of a zombie.  The awkward shuffle of their undead gait and worn sandals came to their ears with great dread.  Though it was only a few moments, it seemed a long slow time before the thing came into view of Kazrack’s darkvision.

“It is coming,” Kazrack said.  “There is only one.  Are you ready?”

“Uh… yeah?”

The thing came scrambling on its hands and feet; it’s gnarled knees not touching the tunnel floor.  Kazrack let go with a crossbow bolt when it was just barely within the torchlight, but the thing went high and cracked against the stone ceiling, falling ineffectively.  

Martin and Kazrack moved back in tandem, and Kazrack hurriedly reloaded.  The zombie continued to scramble, often loosing its footing as its stiff muscles seemed hesitant to leave the rigor of death.    Kazrack fired again, and again the bolt went too high.

They moved back again, and Martin cast his _shield_ spell.

“We aren’t going to make much progress this way, are we?’ Martin asked.  

Kazrack grunted.  He loaded and fired again.  This time there was a distinct pop and crack sound as the bolt buried itself into the thing’s skull.  However, it did not stop coming.

Over and over again the dwarven rune-thrower and the human watch-mage fired and retreated, fired and retreated.  The bolts struck the zombie several times, including once right through the eye as it looked up, but they could not stop it and the zombie could not reach them.

“I am going to let it catch up with us,” Kazrack said, handing his crossbow back to Martin and drawing his light flail.  “Get ready.”

“Would you like to use my torch?” Martin offered it.

Kazrack merely frowned, and then turned back readying himself to crush the thing’s skull with one blow.

And then suddenly it was upon them.  Kazrack punched forward with his flail, slamming the thing with all his might in the chest.  Splinters of rib bones punctured out of the thing’s desiccated chest.  Kazrack smiled, but his joy was premature.  The zombie got its black calcified fist up under the dwarf’s guard and slammed his chin so hard that Kazrack fell on his back.    The dwarven priest tried desperately to get to his feet, but his vision was shaking and his ears were ringing, and he gasped for breath.  He could see the black figure moving to crawl over him.

Martin did not hesitate.  He leapt forward, and thing’s next blow slammed against the transparent shield.  He buried the torch into the thing’s chest wound and bloodied clothes, and in a moment they and the thing’s dried flesh were burning.   

The zombie swung its arms with mindless fury, and Martin recoiled, holding out the torch.  He was amazed to see that now the zombie’s arms were on fire.    In a moment, it stopped moving, and Martin was barely able to drag Kazrack out from underneath the burning and collapsing corpse.

Kazrack shook his head clear and wobbled up to his feet.  He placed a broad calloused hand on Marin’s shoulder.  

“Martin, I must thank you,” the dwarf said, quietly. “That is the second time you have saved my life.”

“Uh, don’t worry about it,” Martin replied flustered at being singled-out for doing anything heroic.  “You’ve saved all our lives enough times.  Uh… thank _you_.”

Kazrack cleared his throat and then gestured for them to continue in their original direction, kicking through the smoldering corpse.

“The other are bound to have gotten a substantial lead by now,” Kazrack said.

And he was right.

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

Derek spotted the glimmer of flickering light ahead.  The tunnel was finally opening into another area. Ratchis moved over as far as he could to allow Derek to pass.  The young huntsman moved to within fifteen feet of the opening and then fell to his belly, dragging his body silently to the edge.  The light became brighter as he grew closer, but there was the smell of rotten burning filling the air, which gre hazy.

To their right, Jeremy and Blodnath had noticed the opening, too.  Jeremy signaled for Blodnath to wait, and he crept up cautiously.

Derek winced as his chin hit the stone floor. He could not believe what he was seeing.  The tunnels seem to open into an immense natural chamber.  They ended at the top of a stone ziggurat etched with steps leading forty feet down to the chamber floor.  The floor of the chamber was littered with broken stones of many sizes.  It looked like at one time there were more stone structures here, but smaller and perhaps, a corral of some kind with a stone railing.  There were rotten and ragged canvas tents covered in dust and freckled with holes.  Some were no more than stained rags hanging on wooden poles.  And there were scores upon scores of zombies.   Like those the Fearless Manticore Killers had faced above, these zombies were dressed as laborers.  They milled around in scattered lines that seemed to have been based on a semblance of order.  They moved from place to place, in and out of the darkness as if completing tasks on some list or as part of some procedure, but they actually seemed to be accomplishing nothing.    There seemed to be lines of them trailing off to the left and right of the ziggurat as well.   

The zombie activity seemed to be focused around an enormous pedestal for what must have once been and enormous stone statue.  Derek could barely make out the cracked feet of whatever it had been.  The surface of it looked like it had some kind of weird texture carved on it.  Four tall fires in large bronze bowls surrounded the pedestal.  It was these smoky fires that lit up the chamber. 

Derek watched in awe, giving up on doing a head count of the walking dead.  He could now see that every so often the zombies _were_ accomplishing a task.   Some were dragging corpses up on to stone biers at the base of each fire, where others would tear the clothes from them and tossing them into the braziers.  It became clear that these were the tasks the other zombies were mimicking.  They moved mindless to their own inefficiency.  While the zombies piled on the biers slid down in great piles of rotting desecration, Derek noticed one other thing.   There was a significant portion of these zombies that were naked.

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

“Well, what have we got out there?” Blodnoth asked Jeremy, when the latter had crawled back a bit.

“We’ve got a sold out show and no script to go by,” Jeremy replied quietly.  He squatted against the tunnel wall.

“Huh?”

“It’s a packed house.”

“Let’s retreat some and keep sight of the opening,” Blodnath suggested.  “Maybe someone else will come and we can decide what to do.

Jeremy nodded.

*to be continued…*


----------



## Jon Potter

I don't believe it!

The Fearless Manitcore Killers forgot the third rule of dungeon delving: "Never Split the Party"!

So these worker zombies are making more worker zombies? That would account for the naked ones as well as the seemingly endless supply of walking dead.

Kazrack's trouble with his assailant makes me seriously wonder if these are something _more_than ordinary zombies. We shall see I guess.

Thanks for the update and happy birthday!


----------



## Manzanita

OK, Jon Potter.  I'm game.  What are the first two rules?

Nice addition, Nemmerle.  It's nice to see some good fight scenes in this campaign once in a while.  I'm glad to see there seems to be some explanation for the multitudes of zombies.  Killing them all by hand isn't an option, so it's a good thing the heros seem to have reached the source.


----------



## Jon Potter

Manzanita said:
			
		

> *OK, Jon Potter.  I'm game.  What are the first two rules?
> *




I'm not sure where I read them - in somebody's signature I think - but they're not my original idea.*

1) Always call for healing when you need it.

2) Always take it one level at a time and don't leave any enemies behind you

3) Never under any circumstances split the party.

That's paraphrased, but that's the gist of it.

Sorry for the hijack, nemmerle,

*Which is not to say that they won't appear somewhere in my campaign. I think I might have them posted on the wall in the Adventurer's Guildhouse.


----------



## el-remmen

My answers to these foolish axioms 



			
				Jon Potter said:
			
		

> *
> 1) Always call for healing when you need it.
> *




What if someone else needs it more?  What if calling out for healing clues the enemy mage that you are ripe for some magic missiles or a lightning bolt?



> *
> 2) Always take it one level at a time and don't leave any enemies behind you
> 
> *




What if it is a time sensitive adventure?  What if it is just mindless beast that _could_ be danger if run into on the way, but will do no harm now if bypassed?  



> *
> 
> 3) Never under any circumstances split the party.
> 
> *




What if there are 2 or more tasks that need to be accomplished at once?  Or what if one group acts as decoy or distraction?  What if one or more peeople in a party disagree as to what is the more important task to accomplish first on a fundamental level?  What if one or more of the PCs is a flashy show-off who insists on taking the awe-struck cohorts to investigate some strange statue?


----------



## Jon Potter

nemmerle said:
			
		

> *My answers to these foolish axioms
> *




Well, like I said, I didn't make 'em up.

I still think they're amusing enough to use IMC. With your permission maybe a few of your rebuttals will show up in the guildhall as well. Any organization run by adventurers is bound to have a few dissenting opinions!

Now stop thinking about this foolishness and get back to writing!  

[Cue sound of a bullwhip cracking]


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #45*

Part Two: In which the Necropolis is discovered.

“When you say _countless_,” Ratchis paused and looked at the young woodsman who had just hurried back on his belly to report what he had seen. “Do you mean as in, too many to count quickly, or…”

Derek shook his head. “Countless.”

Ratchis wiped his face with one of his huge ham-like hands.

They were silent for a long moment.

“Well?  Should we go back?” Derek finally asked, in a sharp whisper.

“Uh, no,” Ratchis twisted a thick chunk of natty lock on his head.  “Let’s wait a while and see what the others do.”  He squeezed past Derek and crept up to the edge of the tunnel.  Derek waited a moment and then followed.  Ratchis let out a low breath when he saw the great chamber beyond.  He noticed that a group of zombies were wandering aimlessly on the steps on this side, and seemed to be meandering up towards the tunnels, without real purpose.  He pinned Derek back with a muscular arm, and pressed his own back to the tunnel side, squatting awkwardly.   It seemed that one or more zombies might enter the adjacent tunnel.  They moved back to decide what to do. Ratchis squeezed past Derek once again.

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

Jeremy squatted with his back to a tunnel wall as well, looking back and forth from the opening to Blodnoth, who was cursing under his breath about how cursed this place was.

“Do you think the others will hang back as well?” Jeremy asked during a lull in the invective.

“How in the hells should I know?” Blodnath spat.  “What? Do I look like I can read minds or see through stone?”

“I mean, how will we know what anyone else does if they stay back, and if they do run out there they’ll get torn to shreds and then we’re gonna have to run out there and try to save them.”  Jeremy was exasperated; these infrequent bursts of wisdom gave him a migraine.

“What do you mean, ‘we’?” Blodnath coughed.  “Look out kid! One of those things is coming in here!”

Jeremy startled and bumped his head on the stone above. He turned awkwardly toward an approaching zombie.  It plodded along on it knees, falling occasionally to its hands and then kind of leap-frogging back up with awkward jerky movements. Blodnath leapt to his feet, and drew his short sword.  

“Wanna switch places?” Jeremy asked the dwarf, seeing that the shorter warrior would have an easier time in the confined space.

“Uh-uh,” Blodnath took a few steps back.

Jeremy readied himself with a torch in hand, realizing that he had no room to wield his long sword, and that a short sword would not be so effective.  

“Take this,” He heard Blodnath say, and instinctively, Jeremy held back his open palm.  Blodnath placed a mallet in the Neergaardian’s hand.  The small metal type used to hammer in pitons.  

And then suddenly the zombie leapt at him, Jeremy threw himself to the right, and held up the mallet to fend off the blow. He nearly dropped the torch.  Frantically, he thrust the torch at the zombie ineffectively, but was happy to hear and feel the resounding crunch of the zombie’s nose being smashed in.

In the adjacent tunnel, Derek turned suddenly, as he heard the shuffle of a zombie crawling into the tunnel.  It had barely made it up to its knees, when Derek cleaved its head open with awkward strikes of his ultra-sharp axe. (1) (2)

Ratchis squeezed past, yet again and paused at the tunnel opening, listening for any more zombies. He heard the droning moan from the adjacent tunnel, but there were still more zombies milling around on the steps, at the base of the steps and scores more in the great lines going from place to place. 

Jeremy’s torch was going out, and the mallet was proving too short to do much good as a weapon.  It kept striking the zombie’s flailing arms to no effect.  Jeremy, however, got his nose-bloodied by a graze from the zombie-worker’s fist.

“Keep your head down kid,” Blodnath coached Jeremy from behind.  “He’s coming in with the left.”

“I can’t keep this up,” Jeremy swore and dropped the mallet.

“Looking good kid, play to your strengths,” Blodnath continued with his dubious encouragement.  “Use your sword kid.”

Jeremy sighed and taking advantage of the zombie’s slow reflexes edged further back into the tunnel and awkwardly drew his long sword from the sheath.

“Looking good!  Keep it up!”

Ratchis risked a peek in time to see another zombies climbing into the adjacent tunnel.

“Watch my back,” he hissed to Derek, and then climbed out of the niche and swung into the next one in time to Jeremy shove his long sword into the first zombie’s chest and yank hard to the floor, sending a torrent of black liquid that smelled of rotting licorice back out the end of the tunnel.   It oozed over Ratchis’ hand.

“How ya doin’ kid?” Blodnath asked.

“I need some blasted room to work!” Jeremy said angrily, and folding his arms before his face threw himself into the oncoming zombie, hoping to push it back out of the tunnel.  However, he did not count on Ratchis blocking the way.  He noticed the half-orc brute at the last moment, and jerked back.  The zombie swung a fist at him, but he ducked.

Not noticing the half-orc, Jeremy cursed his inability to knock the thing back.

He thrust his sword again, and cut into the thing’s hip.  Its head then jerk backward and it spit up black bile and bits of never digested food now crawling with mealworms.  It collapsed, and Ratchis pulled his own sword from it.

“Ya!” Jeremy cried out. “Yer frightening the life out of me.”

Ratchis snorted.

Derek swung around hurriedly, noting that Beorth was sticking his head out of the fourth tunnel and taking in the horrid scene of the zombie processions, and crammed in behind Ratchis.

“Beorth and Belear have made it,” he said.

“No sign of Kazrack?” Ratchis asked.

“No Kazrack.  No Martin.  Unless they are staying back, which is what we should have probably done.”

It was Jeremy’s turn to grunt.

Ratchis squeezed back past Derek and found Beorth squatted down out on the top step, still surveying the huge chamber.

“There is reason behind these things’ movements,” Beorth said in a funerary whisper. “Anubis’ will is being thwarted here, and I will not stand for it to be in my sight.”

Ratchis opened his mouth to speak, but Beorth cut him off.

“However, I understand the wisdom of retreating from here and making a plan,” he bowed his head.  “Impatience never gained a man profit in anything.”

“Didya see all the zombies, Beorth?” Jeremy whispered harshly, crawling up behind him.  Derek was sitting in the tunnel entrance, from his vantage point he could see the blue-black bald heads of zombies marching around, and spotted that more were heading for the steps.  His keen hunter’s eye noted movement to his left.  Another of the walking dead came around the corner up on this level, and was stumbling towards Ratchis with outstretched hands.

“We have company!” Derek said, pulling his feet into the tunnel and holding out a hand to Jeremy who instincts told him that this was a fight that would turn ugly quickly.

“We should return the way we came,” Beorth said, agreeing with Jeremy’s idea of retreat.  “I will hold them off.”

Ratchis stood and turned, with a curled lip of disgust and cleanly cleaved the blade of his longsword into the top of the zombie’s head; one of its eyes burst, but it did not fall.

There was a roar as a squat form came charging out of the third tunnel.  Kazrack whipped his flail over his head and smashed the thing in the back of the head, sending it careening down the steps of the ziggurat, coming apart as the negative energy that maintained it dissipated.  

From below dozens more zombies turned their bodies and looked up, and began the pain climb up the ziggurat stairs to beat the life from the Fearless Manticore Killers.

Martin appeared at the edge of the third tunnel with a torch in one hand and flask of oil in the other.

“Let’s all fall back!” Ratchis ordered.

Beorth turned the approaching mass of zombies and closed his eyes willing the divine energies of his god to pass through him.  The chamber’s dim light was added to by the pure white light of the _Shawl of Estes_, which shone as bright as day as the paladin cried aloud. “Anubis!  I call on you to fill these soulless forms with fear and drive them away so that I, your humble servant, and my companion might escape unscathed to plan how destroy this wanton profanity!”

The zombies that were closest to converging on the tunnels held up their arms and moaned loudly; turning away from the ghost-hunter, but the ranks behind them did not pause and passed them by.  Jeremy leapt back out of the tunnel and waited for the approaching zombie line.

“I said, we need to fall back,” Ratchis ordered again, but he himself did not move back, taking a step forward to take a early swing at an approaching zombie.  The sword’s tip whiffed through the air.

Jeremy moved to the right, and swung at a zombie, but miss it also, as it came within his reach and slammed him in the face with a bony fist. 

Ratchis and Beorth both cried out as they, too, were dealt heavy blows by the mobbing zombies.   Kazrack slammed the one on Beorth and it tumbled down the stairs as well.  The dwarf then leapt back into the tunnel, helped up by Martin, who was eager to get going as he feared crawling through the tunnels chased by zombies.

“If we all hurry back we can be waiting for them in the other chamber,” the Watch-Mage strategized with a frightened voice.  “We will have the advantage there.”

“Martin is correct,” Kazrack concurred.  “Back there we need only face a few at a time.”

One hard blow was all Jeremy’s zombie needed to fall to the ground and stop moving.  He stepped back towards his tunnel, as Derek moved out and back to the first one.

Beorth called to Anubis again, and again the closest zombies turned away.  Ratchis destroyed one last one as it passed him, and then the remaining members of the party leapt back into their tunnels and began to hurry back.

Behind them the zombies did not stop coming.



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

(1) *DM’s Note:* The close confines of the tunnel gave PCs a –4 circumstance penalty from using any medium or larger slashing or blunt weapon, and to a large weapon of any kind.

(2) Derek’s fine axe was taken from one of the half-fiend gnome brothers of Mozek Steamwind, Mokad. (See Session #39)


----------



## Jon Potter

Excellent "Dawn of the Dead"-ie feel to these last few posts.

Of course, I'm a sucker for zombies!

Thanks for the quick update, nemmerle.


----------



## handforged

I love the feel of this place!  I was quite surprised to find that we have yet to actually discover the necropolis.  I wonder what awaits us.


----------



## el-remmen

handforged said:
			
		

> *I love the feel of this place!  I was quite surprised to find that we have yet to actually discover the necropolis.  I wonder what awaits us. *




Well, the area with the braziers and the "worker" zombies and the tents and broken buildings and stony paths surrounding the ziggurat _IS_ the Necropolis of DOOM!!!!


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #45*

Part Three: Retreat, Recoup & Read

Ratchis hurried out of the tunnel and breathed a sigh of relief to see the rope still hanging there.  Derek came into the dark room behind him, and soon the others began to trickle in.  

“I’ve got the rope,” Blodnath said, grabbing the end to steady it, while Jeremy, Derek and Ratchis drew weapons.   Ratchis waited by the tunnel entrances to deal with any zombies that might emerge after them, but Jeremy and Derek hurried over to the sconces in the support pillars and slipped their burning torches into them.

“Everyone get up and out of here!” Ratchis commanded, as he spotted a zombie stumbling out of the tunnel.  “I can handle this until the others arrive.” The half-orc cleaved open the undead thing’s skull, but it did not stop moving.

The zombie scrambled to its sandaled feet and lunged at Ratchis, who stepped back whipped his sword at the thing again.  This time it fell and stopped moving. 

Another zombie came from one of the tunnels, and Jeremy skewered it, but it tried to slide down the sword blade to grab him. 

“Ugh!” Jeremy pulled his sword out and stepped back.

“I said, get out!” Ratchis roared, and shrugging his shoulders, Derek obeyed and began to get up the rope Blodnath held.  The half-orc ranger chopped the zombie that had come after Jeremy and it stopped moving.

Martin emerged panting from the tunnel he and Kazrack had gone down.  “There is one right behind Kazrack,” Martin wheezed.

 Kazrack stumbled out after the green-robed watch-mage and then Jeremy hacked at it and it hesitated, but then continued to emerge spilling black ichor on the tunnel edge.

Ratchis stepped over and put an end to it.

“You go on up without me,” Jeremy told Ratchis, gritting his teeth.  “I have the best chance of climbing up without the rope!”

“No, you go!” Ratchis replied.  “I can turn them away from me if I am surrounded!” 

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Jeremy said.

Above, Derek let out a “whoa!” as the floor crumbled a bit as he got up to the top, sending chunks of dirt and stone down on his friends.  The rope was biting into the tiled floor, cracking it.

”Wizard! Get up the rope!” Blodnath called to Martin.  The white-haired dwarf seemed eager to do the same himself.

Kazrack readied himself to attack any more zombies that emerged from the holes, but Ratchis stepped in front of him.  “Kazrack, it’s going to take you a half hour to climb that rope!  Get going!”

“We need to wait for Beorth,” Kazrack explained.  “We’ll turn the ones that come before he arrives.”

Jeremy sheathed his long sword and leapt for the edge of the hole, pulling his way up deftly by shoving his calloused hands into the dirt.  Below him, Martin grabbed the rope and started trying to climb, but his flabby arms were not strong enough to gain him any altitude. 

“Get on my back!” Blodnath order, and the dwarf squatted down.  The watch-mage stepped up on to the dwarf, but even the boost was not enough.  He just kept sliding down the rope feebly.

“Help,” Martin called up, pathetically.

“Get up there!” Blodnath roared.

Jeremy pulled himself up beside Derek, and the two of them grabbed the rope.

“Martin, hold on tight!” Jeremy called down, and the two young men began to pull the watch-mage up.

Meanwhile, another zombie emerged from one of the tunnels. Ratchis struck it and knocked it to the floor, where Kazrack sliced it with his halberd.  However, another zombie grabbed the dwarf from behind as it emerged from the tunnel, clawing his neck.  Kazrack swung around and sliced the newest foe, but the zombie on the floor was able to get up, dropping chunks of rotten flesh onto the increasingly mucky floor.

“Beorth better hurry up,” Ratchis said, his voice betraying a bit of desperation, as his blow missed the standing zombie.  Kazrack thrust his halberd into the tunnel, skewering the one that struck him and pulling its now inert body out into the room.   Another zombie fell into the room, and Ratchis turned to keep an eye on it, allowing the one he had just swung at to slam him in the face with a calcified fist.   The half-orc turned back, and his sword plucked black and twisted entrails from the undead thing and it fell, sending a spray of filth across the room.  It still struggled to get up.

Finally, Belear stumbled into the chamber, “There are zombies right behind us.”

“Oh, thank you,” Martin said to Derek and Jeremy as he finally made it to the larger chamber above.  

“Just move back and away from the hole,” Jeremy said sharply, seeing more cracks appear in the floor.  The watch-mage obeyed, but forgot about the warded pillars in this chamber, and stumbled between the two that had not been set off yet.  His body jerked in pain and shocked as he was struck by the blue lightning.  “Yearhg!” (1)

“C’mon! C’mon!” Blodnath called up the hole.  “Drop the rope.  I’m coming up!”

“Nephthys, grant me your strength to turn these vile abominations!” Ratchis cried out, swinging his chain belt over his head, and the zombies began to cower back and away from him.

Beorth finally stumbled from the tunnel.  He was covered in many scratches and bleeding wounds, as he had been forced to fight off zombies in the cramped tunnel.  However, never one to be discouraged, he turned and faced the tunnel to wait for more to emerge.

“Kazrack, get Belear up the hole!” Ratchis said, letting the swinging chain wrap up his arm. 

“Beorth, back away from the tunnels!” Belear said.  “I am going to turn them all so we can escape!”

“Beorth, you will need to be hauled up, so please get to the rope now!” Kazrack added his own commands to those of the others.

“It is my duty to die fighting the undead! Save yourself!” The ghost-hunter of Anubis replied.

Jeremy and Derek had dropped the rope, so Blodnath gave a quick look back at Belear and shrugging his shoulders began to make his own way up.

“None of us need die,” Kazrack said to Beorth.

More zombies stumbled out of the tunnel furthest to the left. 

“Anubis!  I am threatened! Save me and my companions so that we may destroy this place in your name!’  And with that Beorth reached for the silver jackal’s head about his neck and felt the divine force sweep from him like a wave.  The zombies began to cower back into the holes.

“Now that they’re turned can the slow people _please_ get up the rope?” Ratchis said, with annoyance dripping from his gravelly voice.

Belear and Kazrack reached the rope, and the younger dwarf steadied it.  “You go first.”

The elder dwarf shook his head, and tugged on the rope.  “Pull him up!” he called up and Derek and Jeremy did just that.

“Beorth should be next!” Kazrack called down and he flew upwards.  

Above, Martin lay whimpering on the floor, as Jeremy, Derek and Blodnath moved away from the increasingly unstable hole, holding the rope at three different spots to create a lever for easier lifting.

Zombies scrambled over each other like insects trying to get past each other in the narrow tunnels, some fleeing the divine power of the party’s gods, and other drawn towards it like insects.

“All should go up!  I can climb the rope easily,” Ratchis repeated himself in more than one way, cleaving open the head of a zombie once again.  A huge chunk of brain splashed on his magical boots, and he kicked it away.  Another zombie began to climb out behind that one, while two more fell from adjacent tunnels.

“I will bow to your wisdom,” Beorth said, to Belear who handed the lowered rope to the paladin.  In a moment he too was being hauled up, with greater speed as now Kazrack was helping as well.

“Natan-Ahb!  Fill me with your divine might so we may escape these things that are ever on our heels!” Belear called grasping the sack of runes around his neck.  There was crackle and hiss as the three zombies that stumbled towards Ratchis crumbled into dust.

Beorth made it to the top, but finally the floor gave way again as it had threatened, and the paladin felt himself tumbling back down the deep hole to the chamber below.  Jeremy, who was closest, leapt forward to grab him, but was too slow.  Beorth was able to heft himself out of the hole and roll to safety, but the Neergaardian only succeeded in landing on a widening crack, and with a yelp he tumbled painfully down the hole.  In a moment, he was bruised and bloodied back in the chamber below, stunned by the fall.

Ratchis and Belear turned with shock at the sound of their fallen companion.  “Belear, go up,” Ratchis said.  “I will take care of Jeremy.”

Belear nodded.  In a moment, those above had untangled the rope and dropped it back down.  They now had a chain of people pulling to avoid concentrating too much weight in any one spot.   Soon, the elder dwarf was on his way up.

Ratchis leaned over Jeremy, keeping an eye open towards the tunnels, and pressed a hand to his companion’s temples.

“Nephthys, grant me your pwer to revive my companion.”

Jeremy coughed and awoke. (2)  “Thanks, Ratchis.”  He leapt to his feet and started climbing.  Ratchis was forced to dispatch one last zombie before he, too was able to get to the relative safety of the chamber above.

They all took a moment to catch their breath.

“It appears that the only way we have of moving forward is to open that unlocked sarcophagus…” Kazrack commented.

“Do not forget the books and papers we found,” Beorth said. (3)

Jeremy smirked.

“Tomorrow I can read the first few pages of each of those books before we set off,” Martin added.  “If I can risk preparing some different spells.”

“I think we should spend a day resting before we decide what to do anyway, so perhaps you will be able to read even more that that,’ Kazrack replied.  “And I can gain a miracle from Lehrathonar that will let me read the loose pages of notes in the gnomish tongue.

Martin shook his head.   “I do not think the charm of translation will work on gnomish.” (4)

“I am sure that miracles of my gods will me to read these,” Kazrack insisted.

“If that is so, I commend them to your care,” Martin replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Where are we going to rest?’ Derek asked, eying the cracked floor suspiciously.

“We’ll make our way back up to the level of the entrance shaft we left the others at,” Ratchis said.

“Yes, give the choice of being trapped on one side of the door or the other, I prefer it be this one,” Kazrack said, pointing to the weighted chains that worked the large door to this chamber.

“Uh, I see,” Derek said, looking to Jeremy with a look that asked, “Is this dwarf crazy?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Martin asked.  “If if we got trapped on this side, we’d likely all die – as there may be no other way out.”

“Better to be trapped on this side where we can stop the source of this evil even if it means we must die than on the other side and be cut off from it.”

“I agree,” said Beorth, nodding.

“You’re crazy!” Jeremy exclaimed.  This time it was Derek’s turn to nod.

“There are other more present dangers in the world that we must see to, Kazrack,” Belear intoned.  “I would rather have the freedom to do so and have this place be sealed away, but let us hope it does not come to that choice.”

“Well said,” Ratchis agreed.

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

The Fearless Manticore Killers and their companions joined the rest of the dwarves on the circular level with sarcophagi.  Captain Adalar and the others were happy to see them relatively unharmed.  Adalar immediately ordered Jolnar, Golnar, and Tolnar and the other dwarves who had not been below to take up the night’s watches to allow those who had been fighting uninterrupted rest.

Before bedding down, Belear cast spells of healing on Kazrack and Beorth.


Ralem, the 15th of Prem – 565 H.E.  

The next morning found the group chewing on dried pieces of meat and fruit.  Derek and Jeremy restlessly practiced handstands against a wall, as Beorth looked on reproachful of their behavior in a tomb, but spending his day in quiet reflection.

Ratchis _restored_ some of his own strength and that of Kazrack, and then spread around the healing graces of Nephthys; after that he just paced back and forth and the dwarves all watched him grimacing.   

The dwarves all spent the day alternately catching up on sleep, or talking softly among themselves in dwarvish.

“If there is another excursion they had better let us go,” said Jolnar to his brothers.  “I came along for some action!”

At first Kazrack, tried to help Martin the Green with the books the party had found in the room with the locked sarcophagus. 

“Grey-Giver, Keeper of the Hidden, please reveal these inscrutable circles and lines to me,” the dwarven rune-thrower said, having spread the loose gnomish notes around him and casting his runestones upon them.

All that was revealed to him were lists of tightly packed random words, most of them rather common in use.

“This is gibberish,” Kazrack sighed.  “I hope Martin will have more luck with the books or else we will have to make a choice of what to do next blindly.”

“We may have to do that anyway,” Ratchis replied.

Martin had prepared to cast _Comprehend Languages_ several times, and he also detected magic on them and found that two had wards upon them.  These he set aside in hopes that Belear might be able to dispel one later as it was beyond his own meager power (5).

He read for hours, quickly flipping from book to book to absorb as much as possible in the limited time he had.  He gasped and shuddered, and more than once frowned and snapped a book shut to grab another.  

The very large book seemed to be mostly pictures, and the gnomish marginalia was untranslatable.   There was one thing he was pretty sure about however, the books had been written a long time ago and then bound afterward, and he did not think the fiendish gnomes or their father had written them.  The books were old even for gnomes. (6)

Two of the books were on necrology and had extensive info on various types of undead; their abilities and the methods for creating them – including new types of “experimental” undead fusing animal spirits with human corpses.

Another of the books was on demonology, and had color plates of various demon types and specific information on some specific and very powerful-looking demons; including the sacrifices they preferred, methods for summoning them and where in the abyssal realms they might be found. (7)

The first book, marked with a one, seemed to be a detailed explanation of the resources required to build the Necropolis. Including lists of slaves from places Martin could not recognize, and notes on tons of stone and methods for moving them and raising dead slaves to have them keep working.

There was a planar treatise, and book on Rahkefet, the ram-headed god; son of Set – which the builder of the Necropolis and the author of the books seemed to serve.

The color-plates in the large book were extremely vulgar – portraying various accounts of mortals consorting with demons and birthing monstrous half-fiend children.

However, there was little that seemed to indicate where to go next or what to do, and Martin said this to the others.  The information held within these tomes would likely prove invaluable in the long term, but for right now the Fearless Manticore Killers found themselves no closer to discovering the source of the evil here and how to stop it.

[end of session #45]

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

(1) See Session #43 (Part Two)

(2) Any of the _Cure_ spells can eliminate the _stunned_ effect.

(3) See Session #

(4) Martin’s little exposure to the gnomish written language (called Binar) while living with the Garvan gnomes taught him that the language is naturally in a form of code – which makes it very difficult to learn, and impossible to translate without powerful translation magics.

(5) *DM’s Note:* While Martin the Green was 5th level at this point, he had not yet found a copy of the _Dispel Magic_ spell or had time to research it for himself.

(6) The party suspected the books might have been written by the gnomes, since they were in a room guarded by a gnomish magical ward in Session #44.

(7) In Aquerran cosmology, the Abyss is the area “outside” of the fiendish realm called hell, where fiends who refuse to submit to the hierarchy of the diabolic monarchy dwell.  It is a fluid and torturous place, and not really a place at all at the same time


----------



## el-remmen

*The Books of the Necropolis*

For those of you who are interested in reading more of the info that could be found in those books, simple click here to download the words docs for the handouts I gave Martin's player about them.

There is A LOT more detail about the books - but FAIR WARNING - the descriptions found within can be very VILE and may not be suitable for children under 17.


----------



## Manzanita

Wow - great update.  I've missed our friends the fearless Manticore hunters.  ...a whole year behind?  I'm surprised.  I often can't remember what happened last week, let alone last year.  You must take really good notes.  The upside to that is that we know there's lots more to come!  Give us a clue, Nemmerle, where are they 'now' in game time?


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Wow - great update.  I've missed our friends the fearless Manticore hunters.  ...a whole year behind?  I'm surprised.  I often can't remember what happened last week, let alone last year.  You must take really good notes.  The upside to that is that we know there's lots more to come!  Give us a clue, Nemmerle, where are they 'now' in game time?




Hey hey. . . I have GREAT notes - as I have said before - Jana/Derek's player, Helene takes great general notes on combat (doing a round by round breakdown of the action!), while Martin's player (Ciaran here on the boards) takes a quote log.  Without them this would be impossible.

And yes, _nearly_ a year behind - Session #45 occured on October the 26th, 2002.

As for those of you who want a glimpse into "present time" - I will provide you with a link to a thread that might shed some light on this - but warning - this is spoilerific and NOT Eric's Grandman friendly - and I do not recommend going there - - - -> but if you must.

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

*In other news. . *

I am already working on the next installment and I promise not to abandon you for so long again (at least till next summer   ). . so please come back my loyal readers. . .  pretty please!


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

We never left!! I jsut haven't been able to post, before reading Piratecat's clear-cookies-&-use-new-page advice.
And that's pretty embarrasing seeing as I'm doing both a Computer Science & Computer Engineering degree 

I always look forward to your posts Nemmerle, although I successfully passed my Will save to not look ahead to the current time/spoilers 

Look-A-Unicorn: The Voice of the Voiceless Lurkers


----------



## Manzanita

OK.  I failed my will save & took the link.  No big spoilers, really, though I didn't look around much either.  I did notice that Derreck's player is a woman & it made me think back to the old romance between Chance & Jana.  At the time, I thought Chance was a PC.  Now I know he was an NPC.  I just wonder how that worked out.  I've never seen an inter-character romance work at all.  As in be interesting or detailed.  I'm just wondering if you could make any comments on that.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #46*

“Mozek’s mother is a succubus,” Martin said in a low tone.

“A what?” Kazrack asked.

“A female demon sent to tempt men to do evil,” Jeremy answered for the watch-mage, and everyone’s head slowly turned to look at him.  “What?  You think I never listen to legends and warnings?”  

He threw his hands into the air and marched away from where Martin sat surrounded now not only by books, but by Ratchis, Kazrack, Beorth, Belear and Captain Adalar.

Martin opened the large book with the color plates and showed one to his companions.  It depicted a four-breasted, bat winged woman with a beautiful face, resting upon a divan of iron needles.  She had a huge engorged belly and was being tended to by human women.  A greenish scaled and horned baby seemed to be painfully crawling and pulling its way out of the demon-woman’s womb.  She twirled a gold crown around one finger as she tilted her head back, mouth open.  It was unclear if she was laughing or screaming.  

Martin explained the accompanying text said that the off-spring of this ‘greater succubus’ and mortals can change shape and hide their demonic nature and be planted into ruling families and tribes to gain power in the mortal realm and wreak chaos.

Martin then looked sheepishly at Ratchis, “Uh, what tribe of orcs do you…uh, come from?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because orcs are mentioned in one of these books by the man who built this place,” the watch-mage explained.

“Darksh,” Ratchis replied, his heavy lids narrowing.

“Oh.”  Martin looked away.

“What is it?”

“A, uh… breeding program is mentioned, uh… with that tribe,” Martin cleared his throat.  “It mentions intentionally breeding humans and orcs, and us sacrificing a certain number of the off-spring to the lost god.”

Ratchis did not respond, but a shadow seemed to come over his face.

“Lost god?” Kazrack asked.

“Rahkefet,” Martin whispered.  “He is said to be a ram-headed god, son of Set.”

The dwarf looked at Beorth when the word ‘ram’ was mentioned, but he turned back to Martin.   “Do any of the books say this foul wizard’s name who built this place?”

“No,” Martin replied. “But I have not have had time to read the books in detail.  I have only skimmed over them and jotted down some notes of my own, and remember, I cannot decipher the gnomish notes in the margins.”

“Margins?” asked Ratchis.

“The empty space around the text in books,” Jeremy said from about fifteen feet away where he sat next to Derek sharpening his long sword.  “Or am I not allowed to know that either?”

Derek elbowed the blonde warrior.

“Could the wizard be a gnome? Or could a gnome be in the sarcophagus?” Ratchis asked.

“I see no reason to believe that a gnome could not be one of the undead,” Martin replied.  “But I have a feeling that the person who built this place was human.”

“Do you think it could be a vampire?” Ratchis continued with his questions.  “That is, a very powerful foe that we might not be able to defeat?”

“Yes,” Martin paused.  “Yes, that is possible, but I am at a loss as to why it’d be locked in its stone coffin.”

“Perhaps the gnomes found this place and forced the vampire in there since they could not defeat or destroy it,’ offered Beorth.

“If only you had your memory back,” Martin cursed. “I am certain you had information we needed, and at the very least I am sure you would know something about vampires.  There is something in one of these books about them and other forms of undead, but I would have to wait to prepare more spells to read it.”

The round chamber at the bottom of the dark shaft was silent for a moment, and then Martin turned to Belear.  “Do you think you might be able to heal Beorth’s amnesia?”

“Even if I could, it would not be my place to undo the punishments of his gods,” the elder dwarf replied.

“But father, that punishment came from a place other than his god,” Kazrack said.

“That does not mean he did not deserve the punishment,” Belear replied solemnly.

Beorth nodded.

Kazrack sighed, “Our tasks grow.  Now in addition to dealing with Mozek, we must also discover what other tribes and societies have been infiltrated by these fiends.”

“One at a time,” Jeremy said, walking over again.  “My question is, what do we do right now?”

The Fearless Manticore Killers feel to discussing their options, asking Belear and Adalar to join them in the decision-making, Derek, however, hardly spoke a word.

“Belear, could you dispel the magics on those remaining books?’ Kazrack asked the elder dwarf.

“I could, but not until tomorrow, for I have not prepared that spell this day,” Belear replied.

“Do we want to take the time to wait?” Kazrack asked, looking to Ratchis and Beorth.

“There may be something in the books that will tell us more about Mozek,” Ratchis said, in his gruff voice.  ‘A way to defeat him.”

“Hmmmm,” Martin scratched the downy brown tuft growing on his weak chin.  “I do not think he will confront us directly.  When he defeated us last time it was through trickery and we are stronger and wiser than then.  We he moves again it will be with overwhelming force.”

Kazrack slapped the ground with his open palm.  “And the only thing that will overcome his trickery is knowledge.  Knowledge like that in these books!”

Jeremy rolled his eyes, and Martin’s brow furrowed, not quite following Kazrack’s logic.

“I do not think that Mozek would leave the key to his destruction on a shelf in a workroom used for the creation on zombies,” Beorth said flatly.  “I try to explore the lower levels some more and find the sources of these zombies dressed as workers.  There is great evil here, and I must endeavor to destroy it, and since it seems Mozek and his kin are involved _somehow_ it is in our primary interest to investigate it at the very least.”

There was silence, but Belear was nodding, and Ratchis stood.  Martin looked back and forth from Beorth to Kazrack.  Jeremy hung his head and walked away to sharpen his blades, but Derek smiled impressed by Beorth’s resolve.

Finally, Kazrack spoke.  “Fine.  Then I volunteer to go scout out the situation and explore the lower tunnels on the other side.” (1)

“I can accompany you again, if you like,” Martin offered.  He smiled at the memory of saving Kazrack’s life last time, beside himself.

“As safe as that would make me feel I think it would be unnecessary,” Kazrack replied.  The Watch-Mage’s brow furrowed again, trying to sense how sincere the dwarf was.

And so it was decided without too many more words being spoken that Kazrack would be sent down the opposite tunnels just to look.  Blodnath remained behind this time, but Kirla and Helrahd came along, and Jolnar, Tolnar and Golnar groused until Captain Adalar glared at them.  Derek, Jeremy, Beorth, Martin Ratchis and Belear would come along to guard the lower room while Kazrack was away, to assure it was free of the undead when he returned.

More zombies had crawled into the lower chamber while the party rested.  Kazrack was lowered by rope and held them while Beorth made his way down accompanied by one of Martin’s _mage hands_ holding a lit torch.  The paladin of Anubis turned the offending undead, his pearly white shawl gleaming in the smoky torch light.    Two more zombies that seemed unaffected, came shambling towards the dwarf, but he called on his gods as well and they fled in the face of the divine power, too.

“Kazrack, go quickly,” Beorth ordered Kazrack, pointing to the set of tunnels the party had not yet explored.  “I will keep this chamber clear of the undead for you return.”

“I will try to not be long,” the dwarf replied with a serious nod and he scrambled up into one of the tunnel, not needing to even duck his head to navigate it.

“Do you need help Beorth?” Derek called down.

“It would be good if we had another guard, just in case,” the paladin replied, and soon the young hunter had deftly made his way down.

He had not been down but a moment when more zombies came streaming into the room.

“I hope Kazrack is okay,” Beorth said, raising his sword to meet the walking dead in battle.  He and Derek stood back to back, hacking the decaying limbs of the creatures’ blackened flesh.

Meanwhile, Kazrack’s reconnaissance was not without event.  He had barely made it halfway down the tunnel, when he spotted a zombie awkwardly crawling in his direction.  He drew his flail from his belt and waited, swatting it with a skull-crushing blow as it approached.  Kazrack fought a retreating fight, always stepping back to allow the zombie to get back it knees and awkwardly come to him again so he could send it down again.  The thing did not seem to want to stop, and it took several blows and most of its head being a mushy pulp for the animating force to be set free.  Letting out a long low breath, Kazrack continued onward down the tunnel.

While Kazrack’s dwarven vision allowed him to see in the dark at short distances, he did not need the blood of the stonefolk to see what was going on when he finally reach the ends of the tunnels on the opposite side of the ziggurat in the  great dug out chamber.  He ducked low as to not be seen, but still he gasped and covered his mouth with a calloused hand.  

There were many braziers lit throughout the great chamber, and like the party had observed from the other side of the ziggurat the chamber floor was maze of partially collapsed stone walls, trampled tents, crumbled stone columns, protruding metal poles and square stone foundations worn by dripping water and time.  The ceiling, way above, was maw of stalactites.   However. What was most bizarre about this side of the chamber was the increased zombie activity.  Here the lines of undead seeming to mimic the living were much more numerous.  There was no point in counting.  There were scores and scores, perhaps hundreds, perhaps nearing a thousand.  The seemed to be clawing at the dirt with their fingers, digging up rotting timbers of some structures that once stood down here and carrying armloads of it to the braziers and keeping them lit.  Others seemed to be carrying corpses from the dark shadows of the far end of the chamber, where Kazrack could not see, and while some corpses (those in the greatest disrepair) were used to feed the fire, others were being carried to biers that surround a great pedestal like that they had seen on the other side.   However, this pedestal still had its statue intact.  

It was immense.  The statue was so incredibly detailed it seemed like it might take flight, for the folds of its hooked bat-like wings reached up nearly twenty-five feet.  It was a demonic woman with four arms and four breasts, like that seen in the chamber of the sarcophagus above. (2)  She held a whip in one hand and a flaming sword in another.  Her fingers, ended in long cruel claws, but her figure was voluptuous and enticing, her right hip shifted out as if to accentuate the curves of her demonically twisted body.

As Kazrack observed, the zombies stripped the outer clothing of the corpses of the corpses laid out on the biers, leaving them in the dirty white workers’ tunics and sandals that the party had seen most of the zombies wearing (those that were not naked).  The stripped clothing was thrown on the braziers as well.  The corpses laid there for a moment, but then began to stir, standing as a zombie to join the lines of the other undead workers.

“Natan-Ahb, preserve us against the plague of darkness and evil,” Kazrack prayed under his breath.   He could take little solace in the fact that he noticed that it seemed like less than one-third of the working zombies seemed actually carrying serviceable corpses.  Most brought bodies parts to be burned, and others went through the clockwork motions with empty arms, parroting the foul work without the resources to undertake it.  

Looking around one last time from his perch atop the ziggurat, Kazrack turned and hurried back.

Back in the small chamber, Derek and Beorth stood among the chopped pieces of zombies, waiting in the eerie quiet for Kazrack’s return.

Ratchis was announcing that he was going to climb down and go after him when the dwarf finally emerged from the tunner, out of breath and admonishing the those on guard to hurry up the rope.

Soon, they were back in the tiled upper chamber, and Kazrack did his best to describe what he had seen.

The Fearless Manticore Killers once again retreated to the lowest level of the entrance shaft where the rest of their dwarven allies waited, to discuss their options.

“I bet that statue is cause of all of this,” said Kazrack.

“From what you describe that seems like a reasonable conclusion,” said Ratchis.

“Do we think that destroying the source will destroy all the zombies in this place?” Beorth asked.

Kazrack was taken aback by the question coming from the undead hunter, it was sometimes hard to remember that the paladin suffered from memory loss when his demeanor was so unchanged, but questions like that brought it back.

“It is unlikely,” said Martin.  “But it will keep more from being made.”

“I think we should do what we can to destroy the statue,” said Ratchis.

“It is large and of stone of good construction,” Kazrack said.  “Destroying it utterly may be impossible without the right tools.”

“We may not need to destroy it utterly,” replied Ratchis.

“Or we can use its own weight against it,” suggested Captain Adalar, offering his opinion on the subject for the first time.  “I am something of an engineer.  Perhaps we can rig something where we can topple it and it would smash itself.”

Belear and Kazrack nodded.  The plan made sense to their dwarven sensibilities.

“I think we should take more time to allow me to peruse the books more, and see if Belear can dispel the dweomers on the two remaining books,” Martin said.  “Perhaps they explain about he statues.”

“Statues?” Jeremy cocked his head. “Kazrack only described one.”

“Yes, but we saw the pedestal for another that was broken,” Martin explained.  “It was obviously destroyed either by accident or by intention by someone.  Perhaps the books can shed light on this matter.”

Belear and Kazrack nodded again.

“My goddess grants me access to a miracle that may allow us to walk among the zombie horde unseen,” Ratchis explained.  “We can send a small group  to test the waters, so to speak, and see about attacking a rope to the top of the statue and so it can be pulled down, if it is top heavy.”

“I will be part of the group, so that I might best instruct you on how and where to apply the rope, and perhaps we can find a way to lever it,” Captain Adalar volunteered.

“No offense, Captain,” Kirla interrupted, sounding as if she were the one who was offended.  “But I am as good, if not better an engineer as you are.  I think I should be the one to go.”

Captain Adalar opened his mouth to reply, but Kazrack spoke first.  “This may be true, but if things go wrong, the captain can call upon the power of the gods, and if things go wrong it is only the power of our gods that will protect us.”

“A good engineer would make it less likely for things to go wrong,” Kirla’s eyes narrowed.

But now it was Beorth’s turn to interrupt.  

“So what you propose is for one of more of us to climb up on statue and be surrounded by hundreds of undead creatures?” The paladin asked with disbelief in his voice.

“Yes,” said Ratchis.

“Yes, but we will be invisible to them,” Kazrack said.

“I think we should open the locked sarcophagus and face whatever is in there,” Beorth said.  “It is not only a more direct option, but we will all be able to take part in ensuring whatever it is is destroyed.”

“I fear we may not be up to handling what it in that sarcophagus,” Martin said, a quaver in his voice.  “It is likely a great and powerful evil.

“All the more reason to not waste our efforts on a statue and get killed in the process letting a greater evil continue to exist,” Beorth replied.

“Huh?  That makes no sense,” Jeremy interjected.

“I think he is suggesting that we face the _lesser_ evil we might not live to face the greater evil,” Martin explained.

“Hey, if we can’t handle the lesser evil, what makes you think we can handle the greater one?” Jeremy threw his hands in the air and let out a sigh, looking to Derek for support, who shrugged his shoulders.

“Ratchis,” Martin looked to the half-orc.  “Have you certain faith that your goddess will protect you in this way you described?”

“I have certain faith that she will grant me what she wills,” he replied.

“And I have certain faith that my god will grant you a peaceful rest,” Beorth said.

Ratchis scowled at the paladin.

There was a long silence.

“It may prove too difficult to arrange for ropes to be set up to pull the statue down,” Kazrack said.  “We should try to simply smash it first.”

“Yes,” said Ratchis, not looking at Beorth.  “I will climb atop it, and try smashing it with my hammer.”

“Regardless,” Belear finally spoke. “Let us rest again, and regain the powers our gods grant us.  I will try to dispel the spell one of the books tomorrow to see if it will help us, before we undertake this endeavor.”

On this, everyone agreed.


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

(1) The lower room, beneath the partially collapsed chamber with large blues tiles and four support columns, has eight horizontal shafts (four on each side) going out to the larger lower cavern, opening at the top of a large ziggurat.  (See Last Installment).

(2) See Session #44


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## Manzanita

Hey - great update.  Tough choices they have there.


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## Elder-Basilisk

It's back! I love this story hour and am always glad when it's updated.


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## Manzanita

Manzanita said:
			
		

> OK.  I failed my will save & took the link.  No big spoilers, really, though I didn't look around much either.  I did notice that Derreck's player is a woman & it made me think back to the old romance between Chance & Jana.  At the time, I thought Chance was a PC.  Now I know he was an NPC.  I just wonder how that worked out.  I've never seen an inter-character romance work at all.  As in be interesting or detailed.  I'm just wondering if you could make any comments on that.




OK.  Just 'bumping' my question, since I didn't see it addressed yet.  Looking forward to the Next update!


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## el-remmen

It was oh so long ago, but let me see if I can re-construct it. . . 

Most of that romance was allowed to simply be suggested.  As I was playing Chance as an NPC I had him be the bumbling overly obvious kid with a crush on Jana - growing bolder and bolder in his statements and suggestions - until finally she agreed to sharing a room with him - and once that happened all the action could be moved "off-camera".  There was no need to really role-play any of it - except for some small scenes just to maintain the effect (for example, how Chance would return exhausted and drunk from his nights out with the gnomes when the party was staying with them).

It was also a planned move on my part, because I wanted Chance's death (something I I knew I would do since before the party reached the castle) to have a deep impact - and serve as the catalyst for the party to bond despite their constant bickering and moral differences and have a common goal.

Does that answer your question?


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## Look_a_Unicorn

*bump*
Let's see some statue topplin'


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## el-remmen

*session #46 (part II)*

Isilem, 16th of Prem – 565 H.E.

A night of rest, if it were truly night above for they had not seen the sun in four days, became an extra day of rest as Ratchis and Kazrack doled out more divine healing, and Martin spent more time reading.  Jeremy watched jealously as Blodnath and Baervard played a dice game, which Kirla and Helrahd joined in on.  However, even if they had invited him, he could not read the dwarven runes on the eight-sided stone die they sometimes spin on one point, and he could not follow the complicated rules, as they shoved stacked of copper coins at each other, alternately laughing and cursing.  As usual, Baervard never spoke a word.

When Jeremy grew tired of watching, he got Derek to spot him as he did handstands against the shaft’s curved wall.   Beorth poured over his own leaves of paper, where he had written down lists of the things the party had found out on their adventures.  However, lists that included names of places, objects and people meant little to him now, as he could not place them or put them together, except with the tenuous strings that had been provided by Jana. But now she had been dead weeks and weeks, and no one else took the time to try to bring him up to speed.  Frustrated, he put the papers away, deciding to just concentrate on the problem at hand.  There were abominations to be destroyed.  He would have to rely on his faith to bring him through this darkness of memory.

Belear tried and failed to dispel the magic on one of the two remain books.  

Captain Adalar went through prayer recitations with the triplets while showing them combat maneuvers.


Osilem, 17th of Prem – 565 H.E.

“Though the power of my gods is infinite, the strength of my faith is flawed,” Belear said, sweat beading on his wrinkled brow. “I cannot break the spell upon either of these books.” 

 He handed it back to Martin, who nodded.

“Then we have delayed enough,” said Kazrack.  “We must see to the evil that is happening in the lower levels and see if we can destroy it.”

It was decided that Jeremy, Derek, Martin and Belear would remain in the small lower chamber and keep it clear of zombies, while Ratchis, Kazrack, Beorth, Kirla and Captain Adalar would try to deal with the statue of the demoness and the raising of zombies.


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

Ratchis wiped sweat from his brow, with each step he could feel the tension in his body rising.  While his unwavering faith in Nephthys kept fear at bay (1), there was just some naturally unnerving about walking albeit unnoticed through lines of shambling zombies. 

Cloaked in the _invisibility to undead_ spell, he crept toward the towering statues of the four-breasted, four-armed winged demoness.    Lines of zombies, some naked and some in the tattered remains of worker clothing, and leather aprons, some clearly made from tanned human hide ambled past him.  The hulking half-orc halted to let one go by.  It’s stench filled his nostrils as it nearly brushed his cloak.  Ratchis had to quash the urge to simply strike it down.  He risked a few hurried steps to avoid three more that walked blindly right towards him.

Up at the shafts that opened at the top of the supporting ziggurat Kazrack made a sharp intake of breath.  He gritted his teeth with anxiety, certain that one of the zombies would bump into him.   Ratchis had been sent across first to find the easiest path and to see how tough it really was, and in a way as bait for any intelligent undead that might notice him. (2)  

The way was clear and he began to hustle towards the stone platform the statue stood on.  He was only about twenty feet away when from the corner of his eye he saw a figure move too quickly to be a zombie, and with a determined hustle in his direction.  Ratchis jerked his head up and saw a figure in a gray long coat smeared with mud and covered in dust.  The undead thing’s face was torn away on one side, but the whole thing was covered in fine black soot.  It had bush of greasy black hair atop his graying scalp.

“Stop the living one!” It croaked, pointing towards Ratchis and hustling towards him.

Ratchis was startled, but did not hesitate, he immediately changed directions and moved back towards the stairs.  

“Oh no. He may be in trouble,” Kazrack said to the others, and ignoring Kirla’s protest he stepped out of the tunnel on the top the stairs.  “He may need our help. Stand ready.”

Ratchis had to gulp back a roar of frustration as he saw Kazrack step out of the tunnel.  From all directions zombies once walking in their habitual lines turned in his direction, and moaning shambled towards the dwarf.  He began to wave his arms to motion the dwarf back.

Captain Adalar stepped out as well, but stayed near the entrance.  Beorth leaned out as well, long sword in one hand.

“Fall back to the other room!” Kazrack yelled turning back to the openings.   And began to make his way back to an unoccupied opening.

Ratchis took the steps two by two hurrying past the zombies that were closing in on the place he was heading.   A few took slow swings at him with their calcified fists, but he easily dodged them.  

“I am bringing an intelligent undead,” Ratchis said, breathlessly as he reached Kazrack.

A zombie reached Captain Adalar, who jerked back.  Kirla crawled back as commanded and Beorth followed.

Kazrack leapt up into the opening Adalar had come out of and turning cried out, “Natan-Ahb! Send these things from your sight!”  The braziers about the statue flared up angrily.  And while quite a few zombies paused, only five turned their blackened slave of a spirit harrowed by the release of the divine power.  However, even more zombies from more distant lines now seemed to know what was going on and were attracted by the sound and the smell of life. 

“Damn it!” Ratchis slowed having risked a look over his shoulder and seeing the undead thing closing. He drew his long sword, “Nephthys, bless my blade against these horrid creatures!”

He spun around, but it was too late.  He felt the cold black claw of the former foreman, and the soul-wrenching sensation of his lifeforce being drained.

“You will join us!” the creature hissed, its common strangely accented.  “You will lead us!”

“Adalar, fall back,” Beorth said to the dwarven captain, as he came back out of the tunnel, but the dwarf was pulling his axe out of a zombie’s shoulder and hollering in the joy of battle, his god’s name on his lips.

Kirla, not to be left out, climbed back out the shaft, flail in hand.

Sighing, Kazrack climbed back out as well and calling to his gods, made five more zombies that were approaching the opposite direction flee.

“Is Ratchis coming?” Beorth asked impatiently, looking down at Ratchis trying to keep the willed undead at bay with his divinely enchanted sword.  The half-orc sliced deeply into its leg, but it did not fall, laughing as black blood dribbled weakly from a major artery.  It continued reaching for him, but the sword kept a distance between them.

“A-ha!” cried Captain Adalar slicing his great axe right into the zombie’s right side.  It collapsed weakly throwing fists at the dwarf.  

Kzrack ran down to where Ratchis fought and stood by his side, he brought in his halberd and thrust taking the thing slightly by surprise.  It growled and hissed and leapt to the right, momentarily distracted. Ratchis grabbed his sword in both hands and flicked the sword with a sharp blow from the wrists and followed through.  The things head went flying into the head, spinning wildly and the body collapsed, collapsing as years of decay caught up with it.

“Your evil ends now,” Ratchis said, and spit on the pile of clothing.

Another zombie reached them, but it had a lame leg and tripped as it came up the stairs falling on its face.  Something about the thing flopping on the ground in such a vulnerable way reminded Ratchis of their former humanity and they seemed more repellant and pitiable at once.

Again, Kazrack turned undead and more fled.

“Re-cast the invisibility spell,” Kazrack said to Ratchis.

“Adalar!  Kazrack!” Ratchis cried to his companions, moving backwards up the broad steps of the ziggurat.  “Move back into the passage.  I’ll try to destroy the ones closest to us before we re-group.”

Adalar stepped over and chopped into the back of the prone zombie and then hurried back to the entrances with Kazrack.

“I think they’re safe,” Beorth said to Kirla.  The two of them moved back into the passage.  “We should go back to the small room and help the others hold that room, more zombies are bound to come.”

“Beorth, wait!” Kazrack called, arriving at the opening.  “We cannot risk this wight or whatever it was being replaced while we re-group, we should attack now while the iron is hot!”

“We’ll regroup in the tunnel,” Ratchis said, reaching them and pushed the dwarves in and followed.  

Beorth kept moving down the shaft, ducked awkwardly.  Kirla and Adalar followed.

“Wait, another of those foremen could come while we are gone, we should deal with the statue now,” Kazrack reasoned.

Beorth ignored the dwarf and made his comments to Ratchis as if appealing to the former’s reason was wasted effort, “We need to hold the room so we can all get out alive.” 

“We need to just fall back some and hope it calms down out there and then go back and check the statue,” Ratchis said.

Beorth paused, “We don’t know what is going on in that room.  There could be zombies overwhelming them from the other side. We have to check.”

“Why don’t you go back and warn them, and we will stay here and do what we have to do?” Kazrack suggested.  He sighed and turned to Ratchis.  “You should have led that creature into one of the tunnels and we could have taken care of it in here away from the notice of the lines of zombies.”

Ratchis’ hand curled into a blood-pounding fist and he gritted his crooked and yellowed teeth.  “That is what I was trying to do, but you stepped out and drew their attention.  We had no plan.”

Beorth did not respond and continued down the tunnel towards the others.  Kirla was blocking his way and looked to Captain Adalar, who pointed after the paladin. She turned and the three of them made their way back down the shaft.  Ratchis’ anger at Kazrack swelled in his head and in a second decided that Beorth’s was likely the better idea.  He gestured for Kazrack to follow as well.

The young rune-thrower shrugged and followed.

Ratchis took up the rear, and looking back he saw the silhouettes of zombies climbing in after them.  

“I guess Beorth was right,” he thought and called for the others to hurry.


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

“I hear zombies coming,” Derek said, standing by the entrances to the shafts the other group had crawled down.

“Why are they coming this way?” Jeremy mused.  “What does that mean about the others?”

Derek shrugged his shoulders and lift his axe and stepping over chopped a zombie’s head in half as it emerged.  It was still animate, it’s brain dangled from the socket of its cleaved skull by the spinal cord.


”Lower me down,” Martin said to Blodnath and Helrahd who were guarding the upper chamber with him.  “They may need my help.”

Belear was already down there, and calmly listened at the opening at the other side of the lower chamber while Jeremy and Derek did what they did best.

Jeremy stood a few feet away from another of the shafts and just let one of the zombies tumbled out.  It scrambled to its feet, but Jeremy chopped it down.  It fell onto the dirt floor and stopped moving.  Jeremy stepped forward and thrust his sword at the one Derek, fought, but it had barely made it two its feet, its brain dangling on its shoulder, when Derek ended the horror of it.

Another zombie began to emerge from the shaft on the other side of him, so Derek spun around and cleaved open its head as well.  This one stopped moving, but then started moving again as a zombie behind it began to try to push past it.

As zombies spilled out, Martin made his way down and Belear kept watch on the other side.  Derek and Jeremy mechanically chopped them to bits as the emerged staying clear of any wounds.  Martin grabbed a torch from one of the sconces and made ready to set any zombies alight that came through the tunnels.

“Zombies are coming!  Zombies are coming!” Kirla’s voice was heard to echo from down the tunnel all the way to the left, from which no zombies had yet emerged.

Jeremy and Derek let out deep breaths of encroaching exhaustion and relief, but Derek recovered first and pointed to the tunnel before them.

“There are more coming from this tunnel,” Derek said, happy for his keen ears.  “Take care of them, I will go help Kirla.”

Soon the Kirla emerged followed by Beorth and then the others, as streams of zombies came from behind them and the adjacent tunnels. 

However, a few turn attempts from Belear and the party’s increasing skill at taking out zombies in this room and the fight was soon over, with another near two dozen corpses in the room and clogging the tunnels.

“We need to go back and try to destroy that statue,” Kazrack said. 

*End of Session #46*

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

(1) *DM’s Note:* Friars of Nephthys gain immunity to fear as one of their granted powers.

(2) *DM’s Note:* Intelligent dead gain a saving throw to see those cloaked by this spell.


----------



## Manzanita

great update.  It's nice to the see the gang organize.


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

Hey Nemmerle, thanks for the update- I agree with Manzanite, it's great to see the FMK's getting some plans together 

If you don't mind some constructive criticism of your writing, I'd like to say that it's sometimes hard to keep the flow of a story hour going when the PC's are doing the same thing- or very similar things- over & over again. The reason I'm pointing this out is that (and this is only my opinion!) the F.M.Killers have had several very similar encounters in recent posts: descend into "unsecured areas" advance, fighting withdrawal, retreat under threat.
I guess my advice is that if a fight is similar to one just previous, and doesn't have anything "special" about it- special would be really tough on the party, introduction of a new NPC, new information about surroundings given- then skim over the battle description in favour of saving your enthusiastic & detailed writing for the next "juicy part".

I hope that makes sense, and even if you don't decide to implement any of my advice, I'll still enjoy reading your SH- I just thought that re-writing the same things can't be too much fun for you.
Which brings up the age-old balancing issue of "Is a SH a campaign journal, or an adventure story based on a campaign" The answer- it's up to the writor 

Cheers, Look_A_Unicorn


----------



## el-remmen

Would you believe that I _have_ been glossing over and truncating some of the encounters?  

Well, I have.  Some anyway.

The thing for me is that there are such good little bits of dialogue and tiny bits of action that I jus tdon't want to miss because they were so much fun - but I have mixed feelings this whole section of the campaign (the Necropolis of Doom) and will be happy when I am done recording it - though I hope I can do a good job of describing the dramatic escape from the place (coming probably two installments from this past one).

As for the question of log or story, well, to me it is both!  I write it to have a log of all (or most) of the events of the campaign - but I write it in story form to entertain myself and those that read it who did not take part.

When the whole campaign is said and done I hope to go back through and edit the whole thing (past 400 pages at this point) and print it out and bind it for all my players (and myself) as kind of a memorial to the campaign.

Anyway, that is beside the point.  Thanks for the suggestion and it is something I have considered when writing this part, and I honestly was trying to stream-line the true events (reams of discussions, a few smaller zombie fights kind of clumped together) - but like I said this section is almost done and when it is I hope to get away from the "old school" repetitive action.


----------



## el-remmen

Oh, and I started on the next installment last night, and yes, they are going for a second attempt to destroy the statue of the demoness.


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## Look_a_Unicorn

"Would you believe that I have been glossing over and truncating some of the encounters? "
I thought you might have been, heck I know our gaming time is normally 80% resolving combat!

"The thing for me is that there are such good little bits of dialogue and tiny bits of action that I jus tdon't want to miss because they were so much fun - but I have mixed feelings this whole section of the campaign (the Necropolis of Doom) and will be happy when I am done recording it - though I hope I can do a good job of describing the dramatic escape from the place (coming probably two installments from this past one)."
I guess any static location based adventure always has a problem with pace, especially when the enemies are either unaware of unintelligent & thus can't respond to the PC's actions. Real world events & the PC's response to them are, for me, the bread & butter of Story Hours. It probably also doesn't help that I'm an outsider to the campaign looking in!

Thanks for the response Nemmerle, and looking forward to your next update!


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #47 (complete)*

*Session #47*

But even more zombies would come streaming out of the shafts.

As Martin was dragging one of the desiccating corpses into a corner to set it afire with some others, Derek hissed. “There are even more coming!”

“I don’t hear –“ Captain Adalar jerked to attention asa zombie came spilling from one of the shafts on the left side.  Belear did not hesitate and smashed it with his warhammer.

“There seems to be no end to these foul horrors!” The older dwarf cried.

“We shall make an end even if one does not exist yet,” Kazrack said, heroically and thrust his halberd blade into the zombie’s chest, flinging it across the room.

Ratchis ran across to the other side where more zombies emerged, while Derek moved close to one shaft and listened.  

“There are more coming and… something else, as well,” the young huntsman said and pulled away.

Jeremy moved past Derek to cover the other end of Ratchis’ side, cleaving the head off of one as it emerged and then sticking it deeply with his short sword and dragging it into the room.  He was covered in black ichor and gore, and the smell of the acrid embalming fluid stung all their nostrils.  

“What do you mean ‘something else?” Jeremy tried to wipe some gunk from his eyes with the butt of his hand.  “How can you tell?”

“I because I can hear it,” Derek said, nervousness creeping into his voice, like the last strained break of his adolescence.   

More zombies fell in from both sides.   Kazrack hustled to the help Ratchis as many more were on that side, while Jeremy had crossed to aid Derek who was turning pale beneath his the black ichor-stained cheeks.

“Look!” Martin cried, stepping between them and pointing to the ceiling above one of the shafts.

“Martin, what are you doing stay back!” Jeremy stepped before him as he spotted the thing.  It was appeared as man, but covered in a black oily chitinous skin. His arms and legs were bent backward and his hands and feet held a singular gray talon that bit deep into the stone.  It opened its mouth and chittered.

“There is something crawling on the walls and ceiling!” Derek announced, half in fear and half remembering to keep his companions abreast of the field of battle. 

The undead monster turned its head all the way around and scampered across the ceiling towards them.

“What are you talking about?” Kazrack cried, cleaving a zombie in twain, turning to deal with another. 

Ratchis was just grunting with each swing of his sword and with each swing a zombie stopped moving.

“It’s on the ceiling shorty,” Jeremy quipped, and his curiosity overcame his fear.  The Neergaardian stepped forward and sliced at the thing.  It screeched and hissed as Jeremy’s accurate blow severed the thing’s right hand and the thing swung off at the feet, painfully.  But Jeremy did not stop, even as Derek was forced to turn to deal with another approaching zombie, leaving him to deal with the thing alone.  Instead, he pressed in close to the startled black thing and chopped at it twice more with all his might.  

The thing collapsed on the floor in a pile of rotting purple meat and black scabs of the chitin.  

“Zombies, not zombies… I’ll take whatever they got,” Jeremy said, leaning on his sword with a forced smile for a moment and then moving to help Derek.

Soon, that wave of zombies had been dealt with as well, but the bodies were piled high and the tunnels were beginning to be clogged.

“I think I know what that thing was,” Martin said after the fight, pushing at the remaining pieces of the black undead thing with the butt end of a dead torch.

Kazrack was not concerned and turned to Ratchis, “Do you still have access to that miracle that will hide us from the senses of the undead?”

“Yes.”

It was decided they the smaller party would return to the large chamber. 

“I’ll tell you one thing I could immediately tell when I saw that chamber,” Captain Adalar said.  “There is no way that place is not collapsing on its own.  It _should_ collapse.  Just the lack of support and the striations I could see on the stone connected to the top of that ziggurat thing.”

Kirla nodded, her own engineering experience had told her the same thing.

“Well, we can only hope that when we destroy whatever is creating all these zombies it doesn’t also bring that whole chamber down,” Beorth said flatly.

“If we can cause the chamber to collapse that would destroy the statues and the vast majorities of the zombies,” said Kazrack.

“I do not think we want to risk that,” Martin said, quietly.

“It would be too great a risk,” Kirla said.  “That chamber is beneath us, we could bring all these upper levels down on our own heads.”

Captain Adalar nodded.

“Well, no matter, we must try to destroy that statue and see if that does what we hope it does,” said Ratchis, climbing into one of the tunnels.

“I still think we should check the sarcophagus,” Jeremy called to him.

“We’ve already discussed this,” Kazrack said, following Ratchis.  Beorth, Kirla and Adalar followed as well.

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

Again Ratchis crept forward invisibly, hidden by his Goddess’ power, from the eyes of the undead zombies, or whatever other senses they might use to sense the living. Captain Adalar, Kirla, and Kazrack were also blessed with the same miracle by the goddess of freedom. They followed evenly spaced and carefully avoiding touching the jerky stumbling zombies.  Beorth, whose dexterity could not be trusted to get him by the awkward obstacles was left behind to guard the escape.  He hid, crouched watching their progress from one of the tunnels.

Ratchis made it to the platform and took a moment to look around from the base of the statue.  There was no sign of any of the ‘foremen’ wights.  He grabbed on to one of the demoness’ lower arms and pulled himself up and reached for an upper arm, putting his feet on the lower, and then he hauled himself up until he straddled her head.

The brutish half-orc hefted his hammer and swung out at one of the raised arms.  There was a resounding high-pitched ping as the whole statue shook.   Everyone in chamber flinched with the sound and looked around nervously at the zombies.  The zombies seemed to pause in their lines and seemed to consider going one way or another, but then they all began to move again.

Kirla let out a deep breath.

_Panck! Panck!_ Ratchis hit is twice more.  Now some of the zombies turned in circles and wandered toward the statue, but then walked right past it and then milled around more at the base. 

There was not even a mark on the statue’s stone.   Ratchis looked down at his companions and shrugged his shoulders and took another swing.

Below Kazrack noted a figure moving with purpose in the direction of the statue.  It’s flesh was blackened with terrible burns, and its eyes smoldered as if red coals still slowly burned their way into its skull.  It wore a dirty white tunic and the shreds of a black leather cloak.

“Heads up!” Kazrack yelped and began to hustle towards it to intercept, holding his halberd out in front of him.

The wight sprung high into the air and onto the stone platform the statue pedestal rested on.  Ratchis had already leapt down and he moved back, leaping off the platform leaving it between them.

Captain Adalar and Kirla halted and began to ease their way back towards the ziggurat.

Suddenly, the wight lifted its head and snapped its neck quickly to the right and looked right at Kazrack as if suddenly noticing him.  With a shriek he leapt at the charging dwarf and tore at his face with its blackened claws.

“Ugh!” Kazrack halted and swung wildly at it, but the thing had moved within the reach of his halberd and it was an awkward blow that missed.

“Nephthys!  With all the power you see fit to imbue me with, please destroy these abominations!” Ratchis cried swinging his belts of chain links over his head.

The wight looked at him with disdain, as five zombies crumbled to dust.

“Beorth!” Ratchis cried out for the reserve.

The paladin began to hurry down the ziggurat steps.

There was a twang as Kirla fired his crossbow at the wight, but the bolt went wide.  

Kazrack leapt back and suffered another claw to the face, but was able to get his halberd back between him and his foe and chopped into its side.  The dwarf took a few more steps back from it warily.

The zombies began to moan and turn towards the heroes.  Ratchis called out to Nephthys again and three more zombies crumbled to dust.   Beorth finally arrived, weighed down in his armor, and held aloft his golden jackal’s head.

“Anubis!  Send these away so that we might learn our lesson!”  Seven zombies began to move away from him.  Kirla and Captain Adalar moved towards him.  Four more zombies moved to intercept them and Captain Adalar reached for the bag of stones about his neck and called to Natan-Ahb to send them away.  The zombies fled.  

Kazrack and the wight circled each other, each looking for an opening, leaving the thing vulnerable to Ratchis.  The half-orc came hustling towards it fearlessly; a prayer to Nephthys on his lips and slapped it on the back with an open hand.  There was the white glow of healing light from beneath the point of contact and the undead creature shrieked inhumanly.  And then it fell backwards crumpling into a pile of clothes and dust.

“Come on! Come on!” Beorth waved the others to join him in retreat as even more zombies turned towards them, the combat drawing their attention.

“Look out behind you!” Adalar cried.  Beorth whirled around to see another wight coming around the corner of the ziggurat accompanied by a dozen more zombies.

A zombie reached for Ratchis, but he cleaved it down the middle with one blow of his sword.  However, in the half a moment it took him to yank the blade free four more gathered around him and began to slam at him with their fists.  He pulled the sword to himself as he was battered around.  He felt bruises begin to swell.  Kazrack was taken a little by surprise by the sudden attack of zombies that had moments before had been ignoring them.  He took a blow to the head, and then slammed in to the hip of another that checked him as he moved into a more defensive position.

Captain Adalar turned round and buried his axe into one of the one’s around Kazrack and drove its still animate body the ground.

The new foreman came rushing at Beorth, but the paladin turned his jackal’s head towards it and called to his god.  The thing hissed in fear and fled, but the zombies which it had passed (now in both directions) continued to come.

“Let’s drive these things away and then try moving the fires beneath the statue,” Kazrack called to Ratchis, as he broke free of the ring of zombies.  He turned when he was clear.  “Lords and Lady, I once again implore your mercy and ask that you drive these things from my sight!”

The zombies moaned and turned, and some others that had been approaching also turned.

“What!” Ratchis replied, cleaving the leg off another, and giving it one quick blow as it fell.  “We have to get out of here!”

Captain Adalar, Kirla and Beorth were having troubles with zombies of their own.  Adalar’s trouble was that they could not come fast enough for him to kill, chopping one down and then hustling up the ziggurat stairs to get another nearing Beorth.

Ratchis ducked the arms of one of the three zombies and spun away from the falling clenched fists of the second only to stand up right into the fist of the third.

He let out a roar, and with one hard blow another fell to pieces into the packed earth of the bottom of the cavern.

“This maybe our last chance to deal with this statue!” Kazrack insisted moving away from two zombies still near him.

Beorth called to Anubis yet again, and again a great number of zombies began to move away.  His shawl would shine with a bright white light every time he did so, illuminating the cavern even more and sending crazy shadows of ambling zombies and flying weapons against the great walls and the broad ziggurat steps.

Ratchis began to flag, and lifting his sword too slowly, he allowed another blow to whip down and smash his nose.  Blood came out in a torrent.

Kazrack turned and put all his weight into a swing of his halberd and a zombie fell.  The bald was still in it  as it fell forward, causing Kazrack to turn to keep his balance.  He could see a dozen or more zombies coming from around the other side of the ziggurat now.

“Run!” He cried to Ratchis and everyone else, changing his tune.  “We are near unto death!” 

Ratchis bolted from his foes and leapt up the steps.  Beorth and Kirla followed, with Kazrack and Captain Adalar taking up the rear.

There was a scuffle with a half-dozen zombies that had reached the top step, but they cut through them, and hurried into a tunnel.  Captain Adalar led the way in one tunnel, while Kirla led Beorth in an adjacent one.  

Behind them the zombies kept coming.

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

Meanwhile, Jeremy danced backward, his two swords whirling around him keeping the blows of another foreman that had already grabbed him once in its icy claws.  It crawled into the chamber among a rush of zombies that arrived from the other side from which the others had gone.  He moved back towards Belear who was able to help draw its attention.  Derek chopped zombies handily, dropping one with each blow, making his way across the room towards three that Martin had _slowed_.

The watch-mage leapt forward with an outreached torch and set one of the slowed ones on fire.  It moaned and patted weakly at the flames.  In a moment it collapsed into a smoldering pile of rotten flesh.  Derek chopped another down.

And finally as Kirla and Captain Adalar came bursting out of the tunnels, Jeremy thrust the _Right Blade of Arofel_ into the chest of the wight and torn it out with a sickening long crack.  It reached up at him, but he kicked it hard and chopped one last time with the long sword.  He yanked the short sword and spun around to help Derek, throwing the swords from one hand to another.

“There are zombies right behind us!” Kirla warned, turning and readying her shield and flail once again.

“Everybody up the rope!” Ratchis commanded as he emerged.

“Did you destroy the statue?’ Jeremy asked.

“Just help people get up the rope,” Kazrack said, hopping out of the tunnel.

“Can we leave now?  Did you destroy the statue?” Jeremy asked again, not moving.

“No!” roared Ratchis.

Beorth, the slowest of the group, emerged with zombies right behind him.

Martin was the first back up the rope, followed by Derek and then Belear.  Kirla and Captain Adalar went next.  Beorth and Kazrack argued, but finally the paladin was pulled up to safety.  

Jeremy hustled up the hole.

“Sounds like you were having fun down there,” commented on of the dwarven triplets.

“Yeah, next time we want to go,” said another of them.

“No, you don’t,” Jeremy said, getting away from the hole’s edge to keep it from collapsing more.

“You can take my place next time,” Derek sighed sarcastically.

“Okay!” Golnar, Jolnar and Tolnar chimed together. (1)

Derek and Jeremy rolled their eyes.

Kazrack and Ratchis climbed up into the upper chamber, as the number of zombies in the room below became too much to deal with.  They streamed into the room like mindless ants, crawling over each other and moaning their endless moans.

“I thought we were going to try to hold that room,” Jeremy said.

“There is no point,” Ratchis said.  “The statues must be magically protected.  I could not make a dent in it.”

“Or maybe you just weren’t strong enough,” Jeremy said.

Ratchis growled.

Below the moaning of the zombies echoed him.

“So what now?  We leave?’ Derek’s voice betrayed a hint of hopefulness.  He missed the sun.

“We open the sarcophagus,” Beorth said.

“Wait!  We might still be able to destroy the statue,” Kazrack said.  “What if we were to dig from the surface?  And then collapse the cavern from above?”

Ratchis shook his head.

“Maybe we need to stop looking at this from a warrior’s point of view and look at it as an engineering problem,” Kazrack added.

“I don’t think it will work.  First of all it is too deep to dig and second of all I am starting to think it is the statue that is keeping that chamber from collapsing.  It is obviously magicked, and Adalar did say he thought that chamber should not be able to support itself.”

Captain Adalar and Kirla nodded.

“But we have nearly a score of us, and more than half of us are dwarves!” Kazrack didn’t want to let it go.  “We should be able to dig in no time.”

“With what tools?” Derek asked, now frustration crept into his voice.

They voted.   Kazrack was the only one who wanted to try the digging scheme.

“You are out-voted,” Ratchis said.

“Grr!  You are all lazy and shiftless,” Kazarck cursed.

Captain Adalar bristled, but Belear placed a hand on his shoulder, calming him.

It was agreed that they would rest a day (or the equivalent) before attempting to open the sarcophagus in the small anteroom they had found when first arriving at this level.

Balem, 19th of Prem – 565 H.E.

“Nephthys, grant me your divine strength so that I help defeat whatever evil might emerge from within the sarcophagus.”

They were now all gathered in the small ‘laboratory’.  Ratchis turned to Kazrack as he walked past and cast _bull’s strength_ upon him as well.

The half-orc stepped behind the stone slab that looked as if it were once used to prepare the dead or perform autopsies.  Belear and Beorth walked to the front, while Jeremy took a spot on the other side of the entrance from Ratchis.  Blodnoth was in the front of the room, to the left of the immense statue that was leaning over the stone sarcophagus. (2)

Golnar, Jolnar and Tolnar were in the narrow hall that led to the stairs out of the room, with Baervard behind them, and Captain Adalar before them.  Helrahd and Kirla, stood over on the other side of the desk from Jeremy, and Kazrack was in front of them.  Derek squeezed in beside Jeremy.

Blodnath gave the statue and sarcophagus a very slow look over. 

“She seems clear,” he said, wiping sweat from his dirty brow.

Belear looked around to see if everyone was ready and then began his chant in dwarven, designed to break the enchantment on the lock that held the sarcophagus closed. (3)

Everyone tensed up.

It was a long moment, and then as Belear’s chant died on his lip there was the sound of snapping metal and the lid of the sarcophagus burst off and smashed into a shower of rock and dust.  Beorth and Belear reared back, covering their faces, while Blodnath instinctively ducked.

Everything seemed to be moving too slowly and as the dust cleared there was a tall gaunt figure floating above the sarcophagus.  The figure had black wiry hair, and pale flaps of desiccated skin that hung off its bones.  It wore a midnight blue gown, that might have once been very fine, and golden jewel-covered rings hung limply on its talon-like fingers.

It hissed loudly, throwing its head back as if in utter agony, revealing long canines behind it black pruned lips.

As if in answer the very walls and floor shook violently.  Dust fell out of cracks that began to snake their way across the ceiling and floor. 

This seemed to bring time back into its proper flow.

Without saying a word, Ratchis ran forward before anyone could react and pushing past Beorth and Belear, leapt upward and brought his sword across the thing’s neck with both hands.  

The thing’s red-eyes glowed more brightly for a second, obscuring the yellow dried pus around them, but before it could react, it’s head toppled off its shoulders.  The head had not reached the ground when it and the entire body collapsed into a pile of dust beneath the dirty gown, and littered with jewelry. (4)

The entire p[lace shook even more violently, and behind them on the stairs they heard the sound of cracking rock and then a blast of cold air.

Ratchis turned and looked at the shocked faces of his companions.

“We have to get out of here,” he said.

*End of Session #47*

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

(1)	Sarcasm is a rarity in dwarven culture.  It is a form of expression that is uniquely human, but the other races have adopted its use over the centuries.  However, dwarven taboos scorn lying of any kind, and sarcasm is considered a form of lying.

(2)	Much like the statue in the great cavern below, it was a bronze statue of four-armed, four-breasted demon woman. The upper right and the lower left hands held curved bladed swords that looked like over-sized butcher knives.  The upper left hand was making a clawing motion, while the lower right held a bronze depiction of a human head by its wire hair.  Despite the fact that she had four breasts, and her expression was filled with rancor, full lips retracted to reveal sharpened teeth, she still had a menacing beauty about her. The statue was bolted to the wall from its bat-like wings in order to give her the appearance of coming through the wall, and leaping over her pedestal.   She had tiny horns nearly hidden by her long flowing hair. (see _Session #44_).

(3)	*DM’s Notes:* i.e. _Dispel Magic_

(4) *DM’s Notes:* Ratchis’ player rolled a critical hit and then rolled a ‘00’ on the percentile for determining the effect: _decapitation_.


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## Look_a_Unicorn

I've been aching to find out what was in that sarcophagas... if it were not for Ratchis's incredible good fortune, how tough a battle would they have been facing?


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## el-remmen

Look_a_Unicorn said:
			
		

> I've been aching to find out what was in that sarcophagas... if it were not for Ratchis's incredible good fortune, how tough a battle would they have been facing?




_Very_

While the Aquerran vampier is not as powerful as the standard D&D vampire in some ways (not being able to take gaseous form, and being killable by decapitation, for example), it is still a very fierce and dangerous opponent.

As you will see in the next installmentt, the danger level is about to increase dramatically and a fight with that starved thing would have put a serious cramp in their escape attempt - especially if it had immediately charmed one or people with its gaze and I planned to have it do.


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## el-remmen

*this is the part where I beg my readers to stick with me.*

So, I know I haven't been updating very often the last few months, but winter is always better than summer for time to be indoors slaving away at the story hour.  

Also I am way behind; that was just session #47 - this Saturday we are going to be playing session #70!  Crazy!

But anyway. . .  who's still around?  Look_A_ Unicorn and Manzanita post fairly often, but I have not seen MaverikWeirdo, or Jon Potter or Horatio (is he even on the boards anymore?) or Black Bard or Pillars of Hercules, or a bunch of other folks I can't think of right now, but that I nevertheless appreciate  

So step forward and be counted.

P.S. I already started the next installment and it is something extra special.  Perhaps one of the most fun D&D sessions I have ever had and ran - and I plan to write it all up in one chunk as to not break the flow.


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## Eduardo_Sauron

*I'm here!*

I'm sort of a lurker, and don't post much, but I'm always reading and enjoying this a lot! Keep it going!


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## rigur

I'm here


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## Jon Potter

This church mouse is still here, quietly and anxiously watching the thread for updates.   

Have no fear, Nem. "Out of the Frying Pan" brought me to EN World in the first place. How could I abandon the story hour that started it all for me?


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## Ruined

I'm playing catch-up with this SH at the moment. Yet another lurker in the masses! It's looking good, nemmerle.


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## Elder-Basilisk

I'm here. Unfortunately, when things aren't updated regularly they fall off my radar for a time but every time I see this with the updated recently title, I check it out.... and enjoy it.


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## Scider

*:d*

Another extremely cautious and silent lurker here!


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## Sarellion

Another lurker steps out of the shadows and reveals himelf.


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## el-remmen

Hey all, thanks for the responses and thanks to those lurkers who came out of the woodwork. (I know there are more of you out there.  Come on out.  Move into the light.  We won't hurt you. )  

I have been working on a rather extensive update over the holiday weekend that willl basically bring an end to the "Necropolis of Doom" chapter - but I will not be starting Book III: Into the Fire  (the next thread) for a while , so will be continuing the story in this thread for the time being.

I hope to post the next installment sometime early this week, so hang in there.


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## el-remmen

*Escape from the Necropolis of Doom!*

*Session #48*

“You are truly blessed by your gods!” Kazrack said in awe of Ratchis’ mighty blow, but there was no time for congratulations.  The walls rumbled and shook again, and the cracks spidered everywhere.  This place was going to collapse.  The Fearless Manticore Killers and the dwarven company knew they had a long climb out before escaping. (1)

“We need to make for the main shaft,” Captain Adalar yelled over the increasingly loud rumbling.

Derek, however, went in the opposite direction, hoping to search for something in the sarcophagus that might stop the collapse of the structure.  Martin handed him a torch.

“Blodnath! Baervard!  Jeremy! Hurry ahead and get to the ropes and go up as quickly as you can,” Ratchis ordered.  “We’re going need you to pull up those who are bad climbers.”   

And as if to emphasize he meant for them to do what he said immediately, he spoke a quick word to his goddess and patted Jeremy’s shoulder.  Suddenly, the Neergaardian’s cloak gave off an aura of bright light.

Blodnath had already snaked past everyone and was making his escape.  He pause just before a large square stone that was the floor where the two narrow halls joined.  

“This floor is gonna go soon,” he pointed at the clouds of dust bursting up from around the seams of the stone and then took off up the stairs.  There was a deep yawning sound punctuated by crashed from deep beneath them.  Baervard and Jeremy were right behind him, but the latter turned back, for everyone else seemed to be reacting too slowly for his tastes.

“Come on!” he said with some panic in his voice.

Kazrack stepped over and began to run his hands through the dust and rags inside the sarcophagus. With Derek and Martin the Green.  The moved frantically and strained to see any detail about the sarcophagus that might help them in this predicament.  But there was only one very clear thing about it.  The inside was lined with fist-sized rubies that gleamed in the torchlight.

Ratchis cast his miracle of _light_ once again, this time placing it on Beorth’s helmet.  A second later it rang out, as a stone fell from above sending the paladin reeling towards the exit.  He fell and seemed stunned.  He held his head and tried to straighten his helmet.  Jolnar, Golnar and Tolnar ran into the room, were yelled at by Adalar and then went back to follow Baervard and Jeremy up and out of the narrow corridors that led into this place.  Helrahd stepped over to help Beorth to his feet.

“Gods!” said Kirla.  She had made her way over to the sarcophagus just as Derek fled for the door giving up his search and pushing Martin in front of him.  She reached down and place her calloused palm on one of the rubies and tried to turn it loose some.

Belear was moving to the exit past Ratchis, who stood his ground waiting to make sure everyone was at least heading out before sprinting for the exit itself.  Kazack moved to the door, while admonishing Kirla.  

“Leave the gems,” he said.  “We have to get out of here!”

Kirla just screwed her face up with more determination and pulled a small chisel from her belt and went to work on it with that.  To her trained eyes, she could tell this stone was loose and worth a great deal.  

Ratchis looked to Kazrack and then to Helrahd who was point Beorth in the right direction, and then back to Kirla.  He then turned and followed Beorth up the narrow steps.  

Behind him, the stone statue in the corner fell over, widening the crack beneath it, and partially blocking the way out of the sarcophagus room for Helrahd, Kirla and Kazrack.

The half-orc came up to the main chamber above, just in time to see the floor give way beneath Martin and the watch-mage tumble into the darkness of the smaller room below.   

“Oh!” cried the watch-mage.

“Martin! Come to me!  We’ll get up the pillars,” Jeremy cried out in the dark, hearing his companion fall.  He had already fallen into the lower level with Baervard, who was fending off the zombies to make it to a pillar of his own.  Martin crawled behind Jeremy and stood, making his way over the bodies of countless zombies.  More were falling from the dirt ceiling above them, and still others were still trying to dig their way out of the collapsing side tunnels.  Jeremy kept an area around him clear with a wide arc of his blades.

Above, Ratchis leapt over the hole, but barely made it.  Flailing his arms to regain his balance he hustled towards the gate-like door to the chamber that led to the shaft to the surface, counting on Jeremy and the others to make sure Martin made it out.

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

“Damn it, woman!” Karack reached for Kirla’s wrist.  “Leave the stone be!  We know not its purpose!”

Behind them Belear squeezed past the fallen statue, stepping widely over the crack, as Helrahd held levered the statue a bit with one of his axes.  He began to make his way up the narrow and rapidly cracking steps to the upper chamber.

“It is going to take time for you to squeeze past that statue.  I’ll be right behind you!” Kirla said, jerking her hand away and continuing to work on the gem.  It was turning much more freely now.

“Just leave it girl!” Kirla’s older brother, admonished.  Kazrack had never heard real concern in the grizzled dwarf’s voice before.

Captain Adalar had made it across the upper chamber, but seeing that all but Tolnar were having trouble making it across, he ran back down the steps, grabbing pointing to Blodnath. 

“Get a rope around a pillar,” he commanded.  “We need to get those people up from down there!”  However, the floor beneath him gave as he stepped back into the large chamber and soon he and Tolnar were down there with Jeremy, Blodnath and Martin.

“No!” Ratchis, slapped his forehead in shock.

“Lentus!” Martin cried, and _slowed_ a group of zombies, keeping them from mobbing the stunned dwarves that had just fallen.  Jeremy made his way over there, cutting a swath in the undead limbs, and a moment later Blodnath’s rope came down.

“Martin!  Up the rope!” the Neergaardian cried.  Martin hurried over, lighting a torch as he went.

“Thomas?” the Watch-mage reached out with his thoughts to his frightened familiar, which was hidden in the hood of his cloak.

“Yes?”

“If I can’t make it out, I want you to run.”

“I’m not leaving you,” the squirrel replied adamantly.  “At least not yet.”

The watch-mage took a moment to scratch his familiar lovingly behind the ear. 

Derek was beside Blodnath, and looking down at the horror beneath.  

“You can make your way up this way,” he instructed.  “There are some beams to help support you.  I’ll hold the rope.”

“I don’t like zombies,” Bearvard said, pushing past Martin and grabbing the rope.  Martin was agog.  The dwarf had never spoken a word that the watch-mage had ever heard the whole time he had been with the group.  Now, he was climbing up the rope.

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

“I got it!” The fist-sized ruby popped into Kirla’s hand, and the room shook, more.  Kazrack barely stepped out of the way of a piece of ceiling.  And despite this, Kirla paused to admire the gem and smile broadly.  “Beautiful.”

“Put the stone back!” Kazrack commanded.  “We don’t know why it was there in that formation.”

He snatched the stone from her hand.

“You have no right to take that from me!” Kirla replied, with a look of indifnation.

“I will be happy to discuss propriety when I don’t have stones falling down around my ears!  Now go!”

“You should not grab things out of my sister’s hands like that!” Helrahd said angrily, and snatched the gem out of Kazrack’s hand and handed it back to Kirla in one smooth motion.  “Now come on!”

Kazrack’s eyes opened wide with incredulity.  “You are being foolish, girl!”  He followed the siblings to the partially blocked exit to the room.  Helrahd squeezed through first.  

“Go!” Kazrack motioned to Kirla to follow her brother, but she shook her head stubbornly.  

“You go,” she replied.

The whole place shook again, but this time with a deeper rumble and the demoness statue fell over onto the stone sarcophagus, shattering it. (2)

Kazrack sighed and squeezed under the statue, but the wall on his right gave way some and he had to thrust himself forward to avoid being crushed.  A huge section of the wall fell off and the statue fell through the floor, revealing a deep chasm below.   A great cloud of dust rose, and Kirla stepped backm placing an arm before her face.  When the dust cleared, she could see Kazrack struggling to hold on to the edge of the new chasm.  Helrahd had already made it around the corner to the stairs, so without help Kazrack was barely able to pull himself up.

He turned to Kirla.  The statue no longer blocked the way, but the chasm was over five feet wide.  

“You’ll have to jump,” he called to the dwarven woman.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll catch you.”

Kirla took a few more steps back and tucked the large ruby in her cloak pocket.  She screwed up her face with determination and began to run at the gap.  

Helrahd came back around the corner, “Where’s Kirla?”

“Stay back from the edge,” Kazrack said, looking over his shoulder at the dwarven scout.  “The floor may be weakening.”

Kirla came hurtling over the gap and was just a few inches short.  She went tumbling down the chasm.  Kazrack turned back around, but too late to reach out for her.

“This is all your fault!” Her voice echoed up the shaft at Kazrack, and she pointed at him accusingly. 

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

Ratchis started tying people’s packs to the bottom of one of the ropes.  He had made it all the way across the room, and was determined to get up to the surface to be able to pull up others with his divinely-enhanced orcish strength.

Blodnath left his rope to Derek and made his way to the bottom of the shaft and began to climb up one of the ropes, hand over hand.

Jolnar and Golnar moved to flank Derek and look down the hole.

“What is going on?” Jolnar asked.

“Are they okay down there?” Golnar asked.

Beorth came around the other side of the hole as Bearvard pulled himself out, grabbing onto Golnar and Jolnar’s outstretched arms.

Below, even more zombies fell out of the chunks of  collapsing ceiling.

“Anubis!  These lost souls wander aimlessly and seek the life force of the living.  Guide them away from my companions!”  The paladin aimed the divine energy down the hole, but at the moment he chose to lean over the hole the whole place shook, roaring as if trembling with anger.  He tumbled down to join his friends, landing with a bone-jarring ‘oof!’ 

“Beorth!  Get up!” Jeremy yelled, hacking into yet another zombie.  Captain Adalar finally shook off his own dizziness from his fall and hacked an approaching zombie with his great axe.

“Has everyone escaped?” Belear asked, finally getting up the steps to the main chamber.  He looked around and took in the scene, answering his own question.  He gave a silent prayer to Natan-Ahb, touching his pouch of runestones about his neck.  (3)

“Get away from the edge!” Derek told Golnar, Tolnar and Baervard.  “The whole floor is going to go soon.”

As Ratchis grabbed the rope to begin his ascent, he heard a crack and a cry above him.  He looked up just in time to see Blodnoth come hurtling down atop him with a huge chunk of a fallen stone railing from one of the levels above. (4)

Martin grabbed the rope and Derek pulled him up.

“Beorth, you go after the dwarves,” Jeremy said to the paladin.  “I’ll find another way up.”  He hacked another zombie to pieces, ichor and blood dripping from his blonde locks.

Jolnar made his way up next, as Martin hurried to the shaft, and helped Ratchis to his feet.  Blodnath shook off the fall and immediately began to climb again, even though blood flowed steadily from a gash in his forehead.

Bearvard grabbed the third rope in the shaft and began to climb, but the blood on his hands made gaining traction hard and he made little progress.  Ratchis began his ascent, while Martin held the rope for Baervard and gave him a boost on his shoulders.

However, at that moment there was another rumble and another piece of stone, nearly a foot in diameter tumbled down the shaft.  Ratchis and Blodnath swung out the way, and Baervard leapt off the rope and off Martin’s shoulders, letting the mage take the full brunt of the blow in the face.

Martin the Green fell to the floor bleeding.  Baervard stepped around him and began to attempt his climb again, not saying a word.

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

“What did you do?!?” Helrahd cried to Kazrack, hurrying to look over the edge.  Fortunately, Kirla had landed only about twelve feet down on a rocky outcropping, but behind her the chasm was falling away and becoming deeper and wider.  There was a shudder and the earth swallowed the entire statue, sarcophagus and raised dais.  “We need a rope!  Go get a rope!”

“Grab this!” Kazrack said, and thinking quickly he got down on his knees on the edge of the widening gap and pulled off his cloak and holding it down to the dwarven shield-maiden.  Kirla got up, and rubbed her head, shaking it back and forth.  She leapt up and grabbed the cloak, and Helrahd grabbed at Kazrack’s end to help pull her up.

However, there was another rumble, and Kirla swung back and forth, and as the cloak ripped she tumbled back.  Once again she landed on the rocky ledge, but it slid down another ten feet away. 

“Grab my ankles!” Karack said to Helrahd, and the other dwarf complied.    Kazrack cursed under his breath,. As he was lowered into the hole, for he could see that the cloak, now ripped would not quite reach.

“You are going o have to climb some!” He called down, but Kirla was already looking for a handhold, and she pulled herself up about four feet and grabbed the cloak again, this time more near the middle, and with more cloth.  

Helrahd pulled up Kazrack, who pulled up Kirla, and they all lay there beside the gap for a moment trying to catch their breath.

Kazrack looked at Kirla, “Just as it incited Natan-Ahb to split the Dwon, it is fascination with shiny things that caused this, not I.” (5)

Kirla rolled her eyes and stood.   

The three dwarves hurried up the stairs as the hole behind them cracked open even wider, and they could hear large stones tumbling down into the gaping maw, knocking away swathes of lower stones to create an increasingly yawning abyss.

Kazrack was the first to turn the corner and come to the top, “What’s going on?  Where is everyone? Have we all made it out?”  He turned to Derek who still held the rope, “What are you waiting for?”

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

In the meantime, Ratchis had made it over thirty feet up the main shaft, only to have a huge chunk of stone balcony strike him in the shoulder as it tumbled down and send him hurtling down the rest of the way.  As he lay at the bottom, stunned, Belear hurried over and cast a healing blessing on the half-orc, spitting to one side in disgust as he did so.

Below, Jeremy decided he could not wait down there any longer.  Huge chunks of the dirt ceiling continued to fall, and with it came loose more zombies.  And still, even more zombie were managing to force their way through the rubble strewn side tunnels into the increasingly cramped chamber.

“Quick, before more the ceiling goes and traps us all!” He leapt onto one of the pillars that stretched from above and down into the lower chamber and started to make his way up.

Beorth and Captain Adalar were still too busy fending off zombies, while Tolnar was amid the beams trying desperately to get up to Derek and his brothers.

Martin looked back and forth, not sure what to do.  He grabbed for one of the ropes to begin to try to make his way up to the surface, but again the whole complex shook and he fell to his knees.  Below Beorth and Adalar both fell, as did many of the zombies, and Tolnar had to stop climbing to merely hold on and keep from falling back down.  Cracks began to spider across the main floor above and Derek gulped with fear and anticipation of the worst, and the rope still in his hands moved towards the broad steps leading to the shaft.

There was a deafening crack, and suddenly the whole center portion of the main room between the four pillars collapsed.  A mountain of dirt and crack tiles fell into the lower room, Beorth scrambled against a wall avoiding the majority of the rubble, but Captain Adalar disappeared beneath it, and Tolnar fell amid the beams he had been climbing only a moment before atop the pile.

Over 60 feet above, Blodnath swung over to the stone railing of the highest level before the last part of the climb that led to the top of the stone obelisk above.   Bracing himself there, he took a moment to rest.

Golnar and Jolnar had rolled out of the way of the collapsing floor, and Martin looked through the broad doorway in shock.

“The floor went ‘boom’,” chittered Thomas.

It was barely half a moment later that Kazrack came hurrying into the room.  Helrahd and Kirla came in behind him and passed him and moved to the edge of what was now a huge hole.  However, Helrahd misjudged, and stepped in a place where the floor was still in the process of cracking even further and with a flash of dust and mortar, he plummeted down as well.

“Helrahd!” cried Kirla.

Beorth began to frantically try to dig out Adalar, ignoring the zombies, most of which were either buried as well or awkwardly struggling to get back on their feet.

“Beorth, I’m coming back down to get you!” Jeremy called down into the hole.  “Get your armor off.  I’m gonna carry you out there if I have to!”  And with that he grabbed hold of one of the pillar and began to shimmy back down.

Derek wrapped his end of the rope about one of the chains that held the counterweights for the door to the main shaft, and then started making his way out.  Jeremy only went halfway down the pillar, seeing that Derek’s rope now secured, and waited there to give those who came up a final boost up.

“Arrrgh!” Blodnath’s blood-curdling screaming echoed over the incessant rumbling as he cam tumbling down the entire length of the shaft.  He had lost his grip on the rope and landed, a bloody pulp, at the bottom of the shaft.  He was unconscious and barely breathing.  A shower of smaller stones, followed him, wounding him further, as well as Belear and Jolnar who tried shielding him with their own bodies.  Martin pressed himself against he shaft wall and avoid the stones, and Ratchis swung out their way, cursing. 

Captain Adalar burst out from under the ruble with a rasping gasp, blood flowing from several wounds on his body, and his armor dented and rented in many places.

“You are going first,” Beorth told him.  Dazed, the dwarf did not argue, but in a moment he was grasping the rope and being pushed up from below, while Jeremy reached down from above.  

Kazrack found his progress across the room blocked by the great hole, and running to leap across a narrower section, found himself tumbling down painfully.  

“Kazrack!” Jeremy cried.

“I’m fine,” Kazrack said, getting to his feet.  “Get Tolnar up that rope.”  

The young dwarf began his ascent, while Adalar hurried the best he could up the steps to the main shaft, accompanied by Derek.

Kazrack turned to the paladin of Anubis, “Beorth, you are more important to the success of our mission than I am.  You go after the dwarves!”  

Beorth did not respond.

Way above, Ratchis finally made it to the surface.  He squinted, as the sunlight painfully stabbed his yellow eyes.  He looked around quickly, and noticed that not only the great block of stone was shaking, but the various pointed -pillars of  stones that littered this dead land were  tilting in the ashen earth, and shaking on occasion.  Furrows were spidering out in all directions from the stone, and clouds of dust would burst up from the earth in places.

“Somebody grab my rope so I can pull them up!” Ratchis cried down with all his might, cupping his mouth with his hands.  He prayed to Nephthys that someone heard him and then spitting on his hands grabbed the rope, waiting for the tell-tale tug that would let him know when to pull.

Helrahd made it back up to the collapsing upper room, by climbing another pillar, and grabbing Kirla’s hand.

Derek began climbing the rope that Blodnath had used to climb most of the way up.

“I don’t expect an argument from you, Beorth,” Kazrack added.  “You are going next.”

There was another yawning rumble, and one of the pillar’s upper portions, cleaved straight off, bringing a huge chunk of ceiling with it and ripping right through the floor of the lower chamber, only a few feet away from where Beorth and Kazrack stood.

Kirla and Helrahd’s escape was even further blocked now, and Kirla swearing, ran at a place where the hole was narrowest, but as before, she did not make the jump.  

“Kirlaaaaaaa!” Helrahd cried, as he watched his sister fall down into the abyss below.  However, she was able to catch herself at the very lip of the lower hole, and keep herself from joining the rain of dirt, rock and zombies that was now disappearing into the impenetrable darkness of chasm.

Kazrack tuned and looked, but Kirla was far from his reach.   Helrahd started to make his way down the partially broken pillar to reach his sister, but his weight was too much for it, and finally it creaked and groaned and tipped over, bringing another chunk of floor and ceiling with it.  The top of it slammed into where Kirla held on for dear life and the brother and sister disappeared into the abyss below.

“Noooo!” cried Kazrack, and then without skipping a beat turned to Beorth.  “You are next.  Go!”

Beorth began to take off his splint mail, hurriedlym letting straps snap, and cutting others with a knife.  “You go, Kazrack,” he said.  “I will not make the climb with this on.”

Above Jeremy hefted Tolnar up, and the dwarf ran to Golnar who waited for him on the steps and the two of them ran to the main shaft.

“You should not have waited for me brother,” Tolnar panted.

By now, Baervard was being pulled up along with several packs, by Ratchis.  He gripped the rope and sat with the packs beneath his rear like a seat, twisting around and around as he slowly made his way up.   

Ratchis seeing who was on the rope, called down, “Baervard, when I get you up untie the pack immediately and throw it back down, I am going to start pulling up whoever is on the rope on the right!”

Martin helped Tolnar up onto another rope, and he began to try to climb it as well, but he was weak from his many falls and soon lost grip tumbling back down.  He landed with a painful thud at his brothers’ feet.  “I am not going to make it.  Go on without me,” he croaked, and fell unconscious.

Below, the yawning chasm stretched even further.  Kazrack glanced back at it nervously, and then up at Jeremy who had also stolen a glance at it, as he felt the column he was on begin to buckle.

“Hurry!” The Neergaardian called down to his companions.  “Just take my hand.  I’ll help you up!”

“Beorth, the likelihood of my delaying you is too great,” Kazrack tried explaining to Beorth as if the world were not collapsing around them.  “You must go first.  Lords and lady, please help this most dwarf-like of my friends inn his climb.”  And with that the rune-thrower, cast the miracle of _guidance_ on the paladin as he still worked on his armor.

“Kazrack, your pride will be the death of you,” Beorth said.

“Call it pride if you will, but better the death of me than the death of you,” Kazrack handed the rope to Beorth, who sighing began to climb.

Derek came tumbling back down the shaft, banging his head painfully against the wall.  He had lost his grip, and tried to us his acrobatics to slow his fall.

He managed to land on his feet.  “Ratchis is going to pull that other rope, I heard him telling Baervard.  Someone grab it!”

Martin sighed and grabbed it, while Belear who had just finished staunching Blodnath’s wounds, healed Tolnar, who sputtering regained consciousness, though he spat blood.

Golnar began to climb the rope his brother fell from.

“I can take more than one on a rope!” Ratchis called down, as he pulled Baervard to the surface and grabbed the next rope.  The taciturn dwarf began to untie the packs to throw his rope back down.  No one could hear Ratchis’ cried over the distance and rumbling.

Beorth grabbed Jeremy’s hand and then climbed past him, reaching the tattered floor of the upper chamber, but unfortunately, he grabbed a splintering wooden beam for support and came tumbling back down, just inches from the what now seemed like a bottomless pit.

“Argh!” cried Jeremy, sweat dripped down his nose, and he looked nervously around.  “Help him! Help him! Get him up!”

Kazrack lowered a hand to help up the clumsy paladin, “My desire to see you to safety has not been diminished by your difficulty.  You go first.”

“My cowardice and my god’s displeasure have landed me here, Kazrack.   You go first!’ Beorth replied standing.

“Will one of you come on!  Stop fighting already!  Make up your minds!  Let’s go!” Jeremy was now scolding them like children.

Kazrack ignored the young warrior, who risked himself to aid them and continued to argue with Beorth.  “If anyone has been abandoned.  It is I!  Now go!”  And with that he sat on the shaking floor and folded his arms across his chest.

Beorth simply stood there not replying.

There was another crack, and Kazrack was forced to roll away from the edge of the hole to keep from going down with some stone.  While Beorth clutched his head, as a remaining portion of the ceiling fell on him, drawing more blood.

“Please!” Jeremy begged.  “It’s now or never!  You are going to kill us all!”

“Beorth!! Go already!” Kazrack yelled. The earth shuddered as if to reinforce his command.   “Do you realize what you are doing?  Who is the proud one now?”

“I am headed to meet my maker,” Beorth replied calmly, and the laying a hand on his own chest said.  “Anubis, give me bit of your strength that I might see the light of day again, or at the very least ensure my companions do.”

“Please?” Jeremy begged again, and he blindly sought purchase for his left foot on the pillar, for piece of it had fallen away.  “I want to see my mother again!”

This seemed to stir Kazrack’s heart, and sighing he stood and grabbed the rope and started making his way up, as Beorth boosted him.

“Finally,” Jeremy said, grabbing on dwarf’s hand and helping him past him to what remained of the upper room.

The floor below Beorth shook again.  A crack appeared right beneath his feet, so he did not wait for Kazrack to complete his climb, before beginning his own.

“Bes, stack the deck in my favor,” he prayed softly.

Jeremy could hear cries of pain and horror echoing from the main shaft, where progress up to the surface was progressing in fits and starts.  A cloud of dust billowed out through the broad door, and one of the chains holding it open snapped, causing the metal door to slid down askew.

Much as Beorth did, Kazrack reached the crumbling floor and trusted it to hold too much weight at once.  There was a snapping sound and back he fell into the lower level.  Both Jeremy and Beorth reached out to grab him, but they could not.  He slammed painfully on the floor and it cracked more beneath him.

Beorth paused, and appeared to be considering heading back down.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Jeremy said, and grabbing Beorth by the shoulder yanked him up.  The paladin sighed resignedly and made it up to the broad stairs.  He looked back at Jeremy.   “Keep going!  Get out!” Jeremy commanded, and the Beorth turned and hurried through the cloud to the main shaft. 

Jeremy risked going a little further down the pillar and tired whipping the rope in Kazrack’s direction.  The dwarf stood and leapt away from a piece of floor falling out from under him at the rope.  He tried to pull himself hand over hand, but kept slipping.  For a moment his fingers laced with Jeremy’s, but then slipped loose and he fell back to the unstable floor.

“Jeremy, my fate is in the hands of gods.  Go!” Kazrack called up.

“No!  Come on Kazrack, you have to do this!  I am not leaving you behind!” Jeremy insisted.  

Kazrack roared and leapt for the rope again, and pulled himself up to Jeremy’s feet, but another portion of the pillar rack off, and Jeremy had to hurriedly move to keep from falling himself, and again Kazrack fell back down.

“You are just in my way!” Kazrack panted.  “Go! At this rate the entire floor will collapse!”

“I have an idea!” Jeremy called down beginning to climb up to the upper floor.  “Stay where you are.  I’m gonna cut the rope and pull you up!”

“Just go!”

Jeremy clambered up dexterously, and made it to the where the rope was fasten to the remaining chain.  He cut it free and moved carefully back to the edge of the hole, swinging the rope towards Kazrack, who he could see was once again trying to climb, but this time the bare pillar.  Seeing the rope drop near him again, Kazrack grabbed it again.

Grunting, Jeremy pulled the heavy dwarf up hand over hand.  Soon they both lay on the steps breathing hard.

“Let’s go,” Jeremy said, standing and helping Kazrack to his feet.  “And don’t look back.”

The column they had been on just moments before, groaned and tipped over, taking most of what remained of the floor on this and the lower level with it.

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

Beorth came through the dust cloud into the lower end of the shaft to the surface, and the light shining from his helm pierced the darkness and revealed the owners of the frantic dwarven voices around him.  Belear lay bleeding and unconscious, and Captain Adalar was seeing to him.  The elder dwarf had been being pulled up as he grasped Blodnath’s unconscious form and both had tumbled down when struck by falling stonework.

Above Ratchis, was yelling down for three people to get the rope he was about to pull, while Baervard and Derek pulled up Golnar, who held Blodnath, and Martin who was already up was dragging the party’s packs away from the monolith as quickly as he could.  Tolnar and Jolnar had already made it to the top, and were making ready to grab the third rope, when there was another great tremor, and they fell on the blood-stained flat surface of the stone above. (6)

“Oh Nephthys! Oh-Siris, Oh Isis! Give me strength! Give me strength!  Give me strength!” the watch-mage repeated as the earth shook around him.  Craters began to mark the ashen earth around him, and several times he had to change his direction to avoid them.

“Beorth! Help me tie Belear to the last rope,” Captain Adalar said, as he grabbed the end of a rope.  The paladin helped, and then tugged on the rope.  Adalar hefted the elder dwarf and held on to the rope and in a moment Ratchis was pulling them up.

Beorth began to wrap a rope about his arm as Jeremy came into the shaft chamber.

“Is Kazrack behind you?” Beorth asked.  Jeremy nodded, and turned to gesture, but at that moment there was an explosion of stone as another of the great columns fell and a shower of dust burst into the chamber.  In a second they were all covering their eyes and coughing.

“There is no way anyone survived that,” Golnar  said, above helping to pull a rope.  A plume of dust was rising from the shaft, and the whole stone groaned as it sunk into the earth askew.

“We are going to keep pulling people up until all of my friends are here!” Ratchis said.

Derek shook his head discouraged, and looked up at the plume of smoke.  “We have to get out of here.  This is just a signal for someone to come and get us.”

Ratchis glared at the young ranger.

“Kazrack!” Jeremy cried, and turned to go back into the main chamber, but the dwarf came stumbling in, his helmet gone and his head bleeding profusely.

“There is not room back there anymore,” he coughed.  “Just a pit, and you should be up the ropes.”

Beorth was startled as the rope he was attached to began to pull him up.  Another rope was dropped beside him.  “Take the rope that just came down!  Hurry!” he called down to his companions as he disappeared into the darkness above.

Jeremy grabbed the rope and started pulling himself up hand over hand.

“Someone is on this rope!” Derek said, looking back down and feeling the weight of Jeremy on it.  Hope filled him again.

“Adalar! Help Derek!” Ratchis commanded, straining as he pulled Beorth up.

The Captain handed Belear to Golnar.  “Get moving,” the dwarf told him and his brothers.  “Bring him and Blodnath out of the area.  Follow the mage!”

They obeyed.

Jeremy felt the rope jerk and looked back down frantically, but the dust and the darkness did not let him see if Kazrack had grabbed on.  Far below, the metal door to the main chamber fell, and the floor of the shaft cracked open, sending another rush of dust up.  The Neergaardian did not want to leave it to the speed of being pulled up and he again began to go hand over hand to quicken his ascent.

In a moment, Beorth came up over the side of the shaft, taking deep rasping breaths between lung-shattering coughs.

Ratchis hurried over.  “Where are the others?”

Beorth shook his head ambiguously, but there was still weight on the remaining room and the hulking half-orc stepped over and helped Adalar and Derek pull on it.   Soon, Jeremy appeared, coughing as well.

He let go of the rope and crawled away from the hole.

There was still weight on the rope.

“Kazrack?”

The dwarf was pulled up.

“Where are the others?” Ratchis asked, doing a quick headcount in his mind and realizing he had not seen Helrahd and Kirla.

Kazrack just shook his head.  “Let’s go.”

The Fearless Manticore Killers hustled off the great monolith as the earth rumbled around them and great rents appeared in the ashen soil.  The pointed columns fell inward, and the sand slid down towards the center.  The scrambled up and away from the increasing incline like ants fleeing their hill when it has been carelessly kicked.

 They could all feel and hear a secondary rumble that seemed to be growing from behind and beneath them, just below the groans and crashes they could still hear coming up the shaft.  It cressendoed until it was the only sound to be heard, and throwing themselves in the dirt in fear and exhaustion, they looked back to see the great black monolith swallowed by the ground.  Several rows of pointed columns followed after it, along with tons of the ashen earth, sending a secondary black plume that rose up even taller than the first gray one.

The earth gave one final hard shudder, and those who tried to stand to keep running were knocked back down.

In a moment, it was eerily quiet.

“I think I just lost ten years of my life getting out of that place,” Jeremy said between gasps.

*End of Session #48*

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

*Notes:*

(1)	*Expository Note:* This entire session (approx 6 hours) was done in the same initiative order in rounds, based on the initiative rolled the session before.  As the PCs made their way out of the Necropolis of Doom, I rolled an initiative for the collapse of the place itself.  And when its number came around I rolled an increasing chance of an ‘effect’.  Effects ranged from simply a cinematic description of something breaking or crashing, to the whole place shaking (calling for balance checks) to pieces of the floor or ceiling collapsing.  There was a tense atmosphere of fear and excitement around the table and when it was all over, the players gave me a round of applause because they had enjoyed themselves so much and were impressed with what I had come up with.  I never received around of applause from players before.  I was taken aback and felt like Pirate Cat was about to step out of the bathroom to award me some kind of DMing plaque.  But, if I can for a second imagine that Kevin Kulp did come out from lurking in my bathroom like a three-legged spider in the drain, indulge me this little humble acceptance speech: I’d like to thank my players because without them this would all be impossible, or I’d be a little weirder than I already am.

(2)	*Expository Note:*  As the action was happening in separate places, I took some license to describe several rounds of action in one area and then in another, while in game it took place simultaneously.  I tried to use specific events to tie together PC/NPC action chronologically.

(3)	 Natan-Ahb is the head of the dwarven pantheon.

(4) Remember, the shaft to the surface had four levels that held masks and sarcophagi.  

(4)	Kazrack refers to the time before the First Age, when all dwarves were united under one king and there was but one immense island in the world.  However, in punishment for their greed, Natan-ahb smashed it with his great hammer, making Aquerra into the many islands it is today.

(6) The party first came upon the monolith in Session #40.


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## DiFier

wow


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## Pillars of Hercules

*Still Around!*

Hey, Nemm, great updates!

I'm still around and reading, I've just been really busy and haven't had time to comment.

So really, how stoked was Ratchis' player (and how horrified were you) that the vampeir turned out to be a "one hit wonder?"


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## Jon Potter

What Di'Fier said!

That was fantastic! Very, very cinematic!


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## Manzanita

I enjoyed that update.  It's nice to see an exciting non-combat experience.  Good to see balance and jump and climb roles really counting for something.  I can see that that would have been a tricky session to DM, and it probably wouldn't have occured to me to do it that way.  So an inspiring session.  Thanks for sharing, Nemmerle.

I must admit I'm surprised all the PCs made it out alive.  Didn't you say earlier that one of them would die in the Necropolis?


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## Look_a_Unicorn

That was an amazing update Nemmerle!

I second the thought that it's great to see non-combat action roleplayed well & just as important as those to-hit rolls.

Even the small things (or perhaps especially the small things) like Martin & Thomas, or Kazrack's bone-headed stubborness to be the last out really make the scene live in my mind. Great writing.


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## el-remmen

Pillars of Hercules said:
			
		

> So really, how stoked was Ratchis' player (and how horrified were you) that the vampire turned out to be a "one hit wonder?"




You would have thought he had really done it, he was so happy.  But I was not all the horrified.  I figured the vamp was going to escape and become another player among the many factions of evil or opposed agenda that the FMK have to deal with - so his being destroyed allowed for a whole future section of plot to be avoided.  Less work for me!    Plus, despite my cheering for the monsters at the table, I do like to see my players succeed.



			
				Manzanita said:
			
		

> I must admit I'm surprised all the PCs made it out alive. Didn't you say earlier that one of them would die in the Necropolis?




I tricked you!  I didn't say a PC would die, but that _someone_ would die - and as you just read Helrahd and Kirla died a pretty horrible death.  Originally, Kirla was meant to be a romantic interest for Kazrack's character - but sincehis player did not seem interested in that at all, she became his foil instead.   That's what he gets for ignoring his sacred duty to the dwarven people to procreate! 



			
				Look A Unicorn said:
			
		

> Even the small things (or perhaps especially the small things) like Martin & Thomas, or Kazrack's bone-headed stubborness to be the last out really make the scene live in my mind. Great writing.




Thanks!  It was really fun to run. 

*Next Session:* The party finds out what happened to their friends and fellow dragon-hunters. . . .  Finn Fisher & Crew.


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## el-remmen

Jon Potter said:
			
		

> "Out of the Frying Pan" brought me to EN World in the first place.




I just caught this.  How'd you find out about it?


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## Jon Potter

nemmerle said:
			
		

> I just caught this.  How'd you find out about it?




You know, I don't precisely remember. I think I found a link on a message board that I no longer frequent, came here about the time the FMK first met the gnomes and spent the winter with them, downloaded the doc file to get caught up to where I was, lurked for a very little time on the Aquerra board and have been hooked ever since.

Aquerra is a fantastic setting that seems very rich indeed from reading the story hour(s). The egyptian pantheon is a little jarring at times, but everything else just works so darned well, it's easy to over look.    Like you need my approval.

Anyway, Out of the Frying Pan was the first story hour I read and the one* that most inspired me to trying writing up one of my own.

Keep it coming, Nemmerle.


*To be absolutely fair, DrNuncheon's Freeport story hour also gave me a fair bit of inspiration, but I think that stylistically, my own story has more in common with yours. At least I hope it does...


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## el-remmen

*Session #49*

*Session #49*

“I never thought I’d say. . .” Belear coughed and his body was wracked with painful spasms, and Ratchis stood to give the elder dwarf some room to breathe after having just cast a miracle of healing on him. “But I looked forward to seeing the sun.”

Beorth wandered away from the group and fell prostrate to pray, “Oh Geb, thank you for devouring that place of evil and abomination.”

Captain Adalar was asking for the details of Helrahd and Kirla’s apparent death, when there was another deep rumbling beneath them and a crunch of stone from where the monolith had one been.  It was echoed by a great belching sound.

“We should get further way,” Martin croaked, wiping dust from his mouth.

A second and prolonged rumbling seemed to  concur with the Watch-Mage, and soon the whole group was running for the border of the dead land, as behind them more and more if collapsed into the hole at the center, creating a huge crater.  Black dust rose higher and higher into the sky, and also blew out in all directions.  In a few moments, it swallowed the Fearless Manticore Killers and their dwarven companions.

They fumbled about in the dark for the edge of the cloud.

It took a few hours, but eventually they were able to gather on the other side of the ridge that marked the perimeter of the deadlands.  The dust cloud dissipated a great deal there, as fresh breezes blew on those low grassy hills.    The party was surprised to also see that while the grass had been patchy and brown when they had passed through here, before now it was bright green and small flowers were beginning to bud across it.

“Did anyone else see it?” Derek asked, out of breath as everyone began to make camp and wait for Blodnath and Baervard , who had gotten separated from everyone in the cloud.

“See what?” Jeremy asked.

“Eh?’ Martin cast a _prestidigitation_ to clean his robes and looking around applied it to Beorth as well.

“A dragon,” Derek sputtered, looking up and around with some fear.  “Or at least a great green and black reptilian shape flying over the area, just before the dust cloud overcame us.”

“I saw it as well,” said Beorth, taking a deep drink from his waterskin.  “I wasn’t sure what it was, but it definitely had that shape and aspect to it.”

“What?!?” Jeremy exclaimed with some shock; his shoulders drooped.

“Are you sure that’s what you saw?” asked Ratchis, looking up and around as well.

“I saw it, too,” said Blodnath, as he and Baervard finally joined the group, climbing the low ridge a little further north from where everyone else had.  “It was black, but seemed to shine green where the sun hit it.”

“So, I guess that confirms that the dragon is real?” Kazrack said.

“Who said the dragon wasn’t real?” Derek asked, confused.  “Isn’t that the reason why we all ended up here Gothanius the first place?”

“Yeah, but we can no confirmation that there really was a dragon,” replied Kazrack.  “And some evidence that it was a fiction, a combination of gnomish illusions and sightings of the manticore.”

“But I came with some evidence about the dragon that Barnstable the Brown sent,” Derek said, exasperated.  “I told Martin all about it when we first met.”

“I…uh…never told anyone else,” Martin said, sheepishly.  “I guess I forgot.”

Ratchis glared at Martin with disgust.

“Well, that explains why you all never seemed overly concerned with the news,” Derek sat by the small fire that had been made.

“I hope that this campsite won’t attract this thing,” Jeremy said, sitting beside his friend.

“What would you have us do, Jeremy?” Ratchis asked, in a tone suggesting that he was certain that Jeremy had nothing to offer.

“We could go back into the cloud,” Jeremy suggested, but shrugged his shoulders.

“It is too dangerous,” Derek said. “Plus, the collapse of several square miles of land has already attracted whatever attention that there is to be attracted.  I doubt a small fire would make it worse.”

“Oh, we can _always_ make it worse,” Jeremy said, pessimistically.

The party took inventory of what they had left.  Jeremy’s pack had been left behind, and Beorth’s armor was lost, along with several of the dwarves’ packs.  Supplies were low.   Derek, who had been carrying around the breastplate worn by one of Mozek’s demon-gnome brothers, gave it to Kazrack, who discarded his heavily damaged chain shirt for the more protective armor.  Beorth took the suit of scale that Ratchis had once worn and cleaned it in preparation for using it.

The day waned, and the Fearless Manticore Killers and their dwarven allies used it to take small naps, clean and repair equipment and to clean their wounds.  There was a short discussion about the budding flowers, and a disagreement as to whether the destruction of the Necropolis had allowed life to fully return to the area, or whether spring had more fully arrived while they were all underground.   

Martin maintained the illusion of a ledge of stone sticking out of the ground to provide cover from the air, but was unable to be disturbed while doing it.

While the day had been much warmer than the party had been used to in the days before going into the Necropolis, a snap of cold came with nightfall.  Watches were set and soon everyone was sleeping a deep, if aching, sleep.


Teflem, 20th of Prem – 565 H.E.

“My compliments on that amazing stroke back there,” Jeremy said to Ratchis, hurrying his pace to keep up with the half-orc’s ample stride.  The Fearless Manticore Killers and their companions marched westward over the low grassy hills towards the edge of the forest where the gnomes lives.  They could see the dark outline of larger hills to the north and west, several days away.  “You know, the thing that jumped out of that sarcophagus.”

“Praise Nephthys, not me,” Ratchis grunted.

“But, next time give us some warning, okay?” Jeremy continued.

Ratchis gave the blonde warrior a glance of half-confusion and half-disgust.

“I mean, after you chopped that thing’s head off back there everything started falling apart.”

Ratchis took a deep breath as if to holler, but then let it out slowly. “…Next time I’m goin to chop the head off of a powerful undead creature in an underground labyrinth, I’ll let you know beforehand.”

“Good enough,” Jeremy slowed his pace again, and soon fell back near the rear of the column.  This was his usual spot, where he and Derek traded whispered jokes about the other party members, and discussed the warm meals and mead they’d drink when they got back to Garvan. (1)

“That is, if we don’t have to fight a gang of demon gnomes,” Jeremy warned.

Derek nodded solemnly, and then laughed nervously.  Jeremy echoed it, and Martin looked back and them and glared, certain they were making fun of him.

“Could have been all _that_ powerful,” Captain Adalar commented under his breath having heard Jeremy and Ratchis’ conversation.

They marched through the day, up over and around the dimpled earth.  

“Belear, can you remind me the name of the first champion?” Kazrack asked the elder dwarf, who still showed signs of his recent wounds, but only that.

“You speak of Jocham?”(2)

“Yes… yes that’s it<” Kazrack shook his head, and then beat his breast with a fist as if pained.

“Kazrack, I think the touch of those black wights has addled your mind,” Belear stopped and put his hand on the younger dwarf’s shoulder.

“I am just ill.  I will be fine,” Kazrack replied.  “Though I do feel strange, as if my soul was shaken.”

“Yes, you have had some of your life essence drained out. The a bit of the very divine spark that gives you life and keeps you linked to the gods and to the world has been taken.  This darkness in your spirit shakens not only your faith in yourself, but in your gods.  You have  suffered a great loss.” (3)

“I will be fine tomorrow,” Kazrack replied.

“No, you will not.”

They had not yet quite reached the treeline as the sun ducked behind it before them, when Kazrack realized that Belear was right.

“Is there nothing to be done about my state?” he asked his former teacher.

“You may still have time, but it is beyond my faith to restore this sacred energy to you,” Belear replied.

It was then that the debate started.  After camp had been made in beside a large flowering tree, Belear called over Ratchis, Martin and Beorth at Kazrack’s request.  Captain Adalar walked over as well.

“I feel as if my faith has been shattered,” Kazrack began.  He explained how having had his life force permanently drained that his connection to the gods was weakened, and there was a whole set of miracles now denied him.  “I am weak and my gods know it, and now I do not know if I am even worthy to continue on in their name.  I feel as if I should try to regain at least some of that lost strength as soon as possible and before anything else if I am to declare myself worthy of it.”

“Do you mean delay going into Garvan see what has been happening there?  And freeing the gnomes from the rule of Mozek and his brothers?” Martin asked, disbelievingly.

I mean, no offense, brother,” Captain Adalar said, stepping towards him. “But we have been delayed enough by the ill-fated descent into that necropolis.”

“Well, it served some purpose,” Martin protested.  “The books we found inside are turning out to be very enlightening.  I just read last night about how the Necropolis was one of several planar ‘nodes’.”

“Plana-wha?” asked Jeremy walking over.

“This doesn’t concern you, Jeremy,” Ratchis said.

“And why not?” Beorth asked. “We are talking about what we are going to do next.  Jana explained in quite a bit of detail about the problems of the gnomes, of Richard the Red and all the various quests and enemies we’ve collected.  I may have lost my memory, but I think this also give me a fresh perspective.   And we need every perspective we have.”  The paladin patted Jeremy’s shoulder.  “And if what Jana said was right, Anubis let him back through the gate, and that does not happen often and for no reason, even though I feel a deep unease about it.  And we need to consider the tasks of Osiris that still need doing.”

“Hold on,” Derek stepped into the circle, feeling drawn in by Beorth’s words.  “Why do you have tasks for Osiris?”

“It was the price for bringing _him_ back from the dead,” Ratchis pointed at Jeremy, who looked down nervously.

“Whoa!  You were dead?” Derek turned to his friend.  “And you were brought back to life?”

Jeremy nodded.

“Let’s not get side-tracked,” said Ratchis. “What are you proposing, Kazrack?”

“I am not sure… Only that maybe we should see if we can find someone who can restore that lost life essence before it is too late, especially since without it I am of a lot less help to the party.”

“I don’t know where you hope to find such a restoration,” Martin said.  “Hmm, but then again, perhaps the priest of Bast would be able to do it…”

“He is missing,” said Beorth.

“Or he just wasn’t around that day,” Jeremy offered.

“We have no way of knowing if he can do it or is even around,’ Ratchis said. “I think it may be too much a long shot.”

“Plus we can brook no further delay, Captain Adalar said, looking to Belear.  “We agreed to come help free these gnomes from their corruptors, but was it not you and your companions that warned us that the hairy bear-beast men were just servants of a greater and old evil; a great foe of our people?  Everyday we let pass is another that goes by without our people being warned.”

“I would not have anyone do what they cannot or would not do,” said Kazrack.  “I need to reflect on this for myself and will throw the runestones for guidance, but it is wholly possible that I may have to seek this out on my own, and that you and Belear and the others can return to Abarrane-Abaruch sooner, and leave the gnomes to me and my companions.”

“I can’t bel…” Adalar’s temper was kept in check by Belear’s raised hand.  

“Let the stones be thrown and then we will see what needs to be done, all of this debate may be moot,” the elder dwarf said wisely.  “It could be that we stand a day or two’s further delay.” 

Kazrack and Belear retreated into a copse of trees away from the others, as the last lights of Ra’s Glory reached up from behind the mountains of the west, muted into a golden orange.

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

_Friendship repaid awaits where men rest upon the summit of your first dilemma… Time wanes, but it is still ample.”_

There was a long discussion as to what the words meant.

As for Belear’s reading, he said he had not had as successful a reading as Kazrack’s, and that it seemed too many things were in flux in regards to Abarrane-Abaruch to know a decisive course of action.

Kazrack wanted to return to Summit.  “That is the ‘summit of our first dilemma’,” he said.

“But there is no one in Summit who can restore you,” Martin said.

“I think there will be a friend there, who we do not expect,” said Kazrack.

“Unless the stones meant the summit of gnome’s hills, or the summit upon which the castle at Twelve Trolls stands, or somewhere else,” said Martin.

“Or our first dilemma could be where we fought the one-eared goblins back outside of… what was the name of that place?” Jeremy added.

“Cutter Jack’s,” said Beorth.

“Huh? How do you remember?” Jeremy was puzzled.

“I took careful notes of everything Jana told me and what I have put together from what I overhear,” Beorth explained.

“Regardless, that town is not close enough to allow ‘ample’ time to get there before it is too late for me to be restored,” Kazrack posited.

“But what is time ‘ample’ for?” Ratchis asked.  “Could it be ample for us to go help the gnomes and then get back to Summit if that is the place where it talked about?”

There was a long silence, while everyone thought it over.

“Well, was there a capital letter for ‘summit’?” Jeremy asked, thinking he was being clever.

“There are no capital letters in the dwarven alphabet,” Martin said.  “The concept comes from the elvish script.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes.

“Anyway, things are not spelled out like that when the stones are thrown, more like things are suggested within runic context and in the shapes the thrown stones make,” Kazrack tried to explain.

“This is getting too philosophical for me.” Jeremy complained and walked off to sharpen his long sword.  “Just let me know what we are gonna do next when you all decide.”  He signaled for Derek to join him, but the young woodsman seemed too interested in the conversation to be pulled away.

“I believe we should go to Summit.  If help for me does not exist there then we will return to Garvan and do what needs to be done,” Kazrack offered.

“You are being bull-headed, Kazrack,” said Beorth.  “You are putting yourself before the welfare of the gnomes you swore to protect, and you are taking advantage of your kin here by making them wait for you when they need to return to their stronghold and warn of the danger of the drow.”

“Do not insult me, Beorth,” Kazrack, stood growing angry. “I do not question your faith even though we cannot be certain that you interpret all things regarding it correctly now that much of your study has been wiped from your mind due to your transgression.”

“I have sinned, but I also continue on doing my best regardless,” Beorth retorted.  He did not raise his voice. It remained cold and flat.  “Anubis has not abandoned me of yet, nor have I abandoned him.”

“And I believe by going to Summit I am not abandoning my gods,” Kazrack said, lower his voice back down after sighing. “I have to believe in this reading of the runestones.  If I chose to go on and ignore it, I would be giving in to whatever doubts plague me.”

There was a long silence.

“I support you, Kazrack,” said Ratchis, finally breaking the awkwardness. “I just hope you are not letting your pride get in the way of your judgment, and I hope you will not be too disappointed if this ‘friend’ ends up being cast in the mold of Richard the Red.”

Kazrack nodded, and then looked at Belear, who gestured to Captain Adalar.

“I have spoken with Belear and he seems to feel we should leave this choice up to Kazrack,” Captain Adalar said.  “His wisdom has always served his people well, so I defer to him.”

“Then we leave in the morning,” Kazrack said.

The group dispersed to eat what was left of dry rations and bed down, leaving watches for the night.  However, most did not get in their bedrolls very happy about the decision.


Anulem, 21th of Prem – 565 H.E.

Morning found Thomas the Squirrel leaping from tree to tree parallel to the group.  He stopped and sniffed the fresh spring air and wished for the ability to enjoy food again, and then he noticed something else seemed to be on the air that he should be wanting, but that somehow he lacked.  Screwing up his tiny brain to try to figure out what it was, he gave up and leapt back down, landing on the scratchy padding of Ratchis’ natty hair.  The half-orc did not seem to mind and raised a ham-hand to scratch the tree-rodent, who chittered in delight and then pounced onto Martin’s nearby shoulder.

The group came back to the scorched remains of the gnomish safehouse that marked the edge of the border of Garavan.  They needed to find this place as a landmark before making their way back to Summit.

“There have been gnomes here recently,” said Martin.

“How do you know?  I see no tracks,” Ratchis asked, looking up from where he examining some twigs on the muddy ground.

“Thomas can smell them,” the watch-mage replied, patting his familiar on the head.  “But he thinks the scent is from more than a day ago.”

“Good gnomes or demon-gnomes?’ asked Jeremy.

Martin shrugged his shoulders.

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

The march the rest of the way to Summit was without event.  They marched though the tunnel through the raise plateau that created Greenreed Valley (4), and saw that the great area of steam they had once traveled through seemed taller and larger, remaining thick even above the level of plateau. (5)  

It was dusk when they finally picked their way up the stone path to the edge of Summit.  They could tell immediately that something was strange.  The paper lanterns and other decorations from the Festival of Isis (6) had either had not been taken down, or had been put back up.  It seemed strangely quiet.

At the center of town, the dwarves made to travel to their old camping spot, not feeling comfortable remaining in a human town.

Kazrack was about to suggest they stick around in case there was trouble, but at that moment there was a rousing cheer from the inn, which was visible at the far end of town.  There was light from within, and it was clear people were partying in and around it.

The dwarves began marching off as two children came running by, obviously arguing.

“Hey look!  It’s the Fearless Manticore Killers! And a whole bunch of dwarves!” cried one of the kids and both stopped dead in their tracks in awe, but then one almost immediately began strutting about like a cheeky show-off. 

“Nya!” he stuck his tongue out at Ratchis.

“What’s all this about?” Ratchis asked him.

The young boy stuck his tongue out again and then turned shaking his rear mockingly at the hulking friar.

Ratchis’ expression changed to one of consternation, but it was enough on his scarred and horrid face to make the boy still facing him pale.

“Uh…uh… Everyone’s celebrating the victory of the Shepherds,” the boy announced, proudly at first, but then looking down as he could not interpret the hard-ridges of Ratchi’s brow, or the glint of spit on protruding tooth as merely quizzical and not homicidal. 

The dwarves continued marching off.

Ratchis flipped the kid a silver piece. “Oh wow,” was his response.

“Who are the Shepherds?” asked Martin.

“I know you!” the other kid turned back around and stepped over to Martin.  “You’re the watch-mage, you can do magic!”

“Um… yes,” said Martin. 

“The Shepherds are the town heroes!” the first boy said, answering the question and hoping for another whole silver piece.  “They found the missing people and brought them back after the killed the bad guys!”

“Which bad guys?” Beorth asked.

“Uh, a bad man who steals people and the dog heads,” the boy looked frightened again.

“They’re called gnolls, dum-dum!” the cheeky boy said.  “Give me a silver, too!”

Shrugging his shoulders Ratchis threw that boy a silver piece, too and they both ran off back towards the inn.

“I bet its Finn and his crew,” said Jeremy.

Martin nodded.

“Who is Finn again?” Beorth asked.  

They all marched to the inn.

They were hit by a resounding cheer as they entered the common room of the Sun’s Summit Inn.  They had never seen it so packed, and the smell of pipes and ale filled the room, along with the occasional whiff of a peppery beef stew some were eating.  

“The Fearless Manticore Killers!” someone cried and then more people took up the name, while others cried, “The Shepherds! The Shepherds!”

“I hope that Finn’s crowd doesn’t get themselves in trouble by people thinking they are more capable than they really are,” Martin leaned over and whispered to Kazrack.

“That’s a good point, Martin,” the dwarf replied.

“Oh, let them enjoy their moment,” Jeremy scoffed coming in behind them.  “Listen to you two, you sound jealous!”

“Oh them? Never.” It was Kazrack’s turn to scoff.

A table was cleared for them, and Finn jumped up from where he had been sitting by the bar, an overflowing mug of ale in his hand.

“Martin! Jeremy! Ratchis! Kazrack! Great to see you safe and sound!” The young fisherman came over to them, and Carlos fell in close behind.

“Hola!” he cried.  “Hello!”

Finn Fisher seemed have lost some his color, and there was dirt caked under and around his finger nails, and carried a longsword sheathed at his side like he had had it there everyday for a long time; his hair was longer and shaggier.  Carlos, on the other, had shaved his head, and he wore a sword (a short sword), but he wore a suit of studded leather, mostly unbuckled, also as if he had grown more used to its weight and discomfort.

As Martin sat he recognized Josef at another tables smiling as he talked with two other young men.  The mousy fellow was growing a black beard, but his hairline seemed to have receded even more.  He thought that two were missing, and craned his neck to look for more familiar faces. It was then that he noticed Simon and Peter, the other brothers from among the dragon-hunter recruits, ones he had traveled with to Gothanius from Westron (7).  They waved to him excitedly, though their faces had lost some of the innocent roundness.

“When did Simon and Peter get here?” Martin asked Finn.  The barmaids, brought pitchers of ale, and said bowls of stew and some bread would be served to them right away.   The noise of the common room simmered down, but become more generalized as people’s attention went back to their individual songs, conversations and meals.

“Oh, they were among the people we rescued,” said Finn Fisher, putting his hand to his mouth to cover a momentary smile of pride.  “Maria is somewhere here, too.  We rescued her early on, so she was able to help us some.  Man, I’ll tell ya, she is killer with a sword.”

Martin kept listening, but scanned the crowd for more familiar faces.  There was the smith/constable, Maxel trying to get away from a gentleman extolling the virtues of his daughter who was soon to come of age, in order to get over to their table and greet them personally.  

“What happened?” Ratchis asked.

“Well, there is a lot to tell, but let me just tell you this much right,” Finn leaned forward and cupped his mouth to whisper.  “There was an evil priest kidnapping people and charming them to do his bidding.  It was pretty horrible. Frank… well, Frank had to…”

Finn’s voice cracked, and Martin feared the worse, but then noticed Frank in a corner, holding a mug of ale in each hand. He looked deep into his cups with a blank stare and then took another long swig.

“Spit it out,” Jeremy admonished.

“Frank had to kill his brother, Gwar,” Finn finally, said, and Carlos dropped his head sadly, shaking it as if in disbelief.  “Gwar was more than charmed, he was changed or controlled more powerfully somehow, Frank had no choice, though he tried at first to subdue him.”

Ratchis growled in anger.

“That is bitter tale,” Kazrack intoned.  “To have to kill one’s own brother would be a foul fate for any dwarf.”

“Frank’s not a dwarf,” Jeremy said with a smirk.

“Jeremy,” Ratchis scowled, and the Neergaardian put a finger to his lip signaling that he’d shut up.

“But listen, that is not the story we’ve been telling the common folk,” Finn added.

“The common folk?” Martin was surprised by Finn’s use of the term.

“Frank insisted we all say that Gwar was a great hero and died killing the priest and we all agreed, though Maria is still pissed about it,” Finn continued.  “But I figured I’d tell you since we know you know about how hard these things can be and because, well… look at Frank yourself, he’s pretty broken up about it.”

“Como no?” Carlos chimed in, and Martin nodded as if he knew what the dark-skinned young man had said.

“Anyway, once the party dies down we’ll tell you all about it,” Finn said and then suddenly stood up.  “A toast to the Fearless Manticore Killers!”

“Here! Here!”

Ratchis leaned over to Beorth, “Can you think of a better name?  This would be a good time to announce a change of name…”

“If anything, it is a mark of pride to be named by others like that,” Kazrack said, overhearing.

“Yeah, but it’s an awful name,” Ratchis replied.

The party in the common room continued for another couple of hours.  Maxel came over to say hello and to let Martin know that the alderman had been called away to the capitol, but was expected back anyday.  Eventually, Simon and Peter made it over, and so did Maria and soon they all retired to the room Ratchis would be sharing with Beorth and Finn told his tale.

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

*Notes:*

(1) Garvan is the name of the gnomish community the party spent most of their winter at.

(2) Jocham was a powerful holy warrior of the dwarven people, in the time of what is called the Third (or Last) Great Dwarven Kingdom in the Second Age.  He is also called the First Champion, and Dwitak’s Hand.  Dwitak Chem was the last dwarven king who ruled over a united dwarven people.

 (3) *DM’s Note:* Kazrack permanently lost two levels after blowing his Fortitude saves by rolling a ‘2’ once and being one point short because he lost that level of the second roll, thus losing another level.

(4) See map in next post.

(5) The party traveled through the great area of steam way back in Session #18.

(6) It was just around the Festival of Isis that the party had last been in Summit (see Session #

(7) The party met Simon and Peter (and Martin) at the ball at Castle Gothanius way in Sessions #11 & 12


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## el-remmen

*Map of Gothanius & Greenreed Valley*


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## el-remmen

There have been 41 views of this thread since the last installment and not one comment!

What gives?  Who are you lurky lurkers?

Does it just take folks more than one view to read such long installments?

*Next Installment:* _The Tale of Finn Fisher_


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## Elder-Basilisk

Hmmm. I've got your comment right here. No wait, that doesn't sound right. To make my long story short, I read it and enjoyed it but I'm not generally one of those who feels the need to comment after every update--especially in what I've come to think of as widely read and reasonably popular story hours such as this one.


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## el-remmen

*the tale of finn fisher*

*Session #49 (part II)*

Finn took a deep breath.

“We decided it was time to follow up on some of the clues we had gathered about the missing people.  A lot of locals thought it was the dragon, and others thought it was orcs getting back to their old tricks before the skirmishes of a few years ago (1).  However, there were no signs of orcs, but there were plenty of witnesses who had seen or encountered gnolls not far from places where people had disappeared from, so we put two and two together and went looking for their camp.”

“That is dangerous,” Ratchis said, pouring himself an ale from one of the three pitchers he had brought up to the room with him.

“Well, we figured if the place was too big and had too many gnolls we’d mark where it was and come back and warn Maxel and maybe gather up you guys or some other dragon-hunters if we found them>” Finn continued, holding out his mug for some more ale.  “But it wasn’t the case.  There were certainly a lot of gnolls, but they seemed to be fighting among themselves, and a large group headed south, while we ended up running into a smaller group and being able to deal with them, though Carlos was severely wound, leaving me, Josef and Frank to get into the gnoll camp and see if we could find signs of prisoners ourselves.”

Finn took a swig of ale.

“I had never been so scared in my whole life, but… but… that was before how bad I knew it could get. It’s been much worse.”

“We have had our own brushes with danger and death,” Kazrack said, and Beorth frowned at him.

“Don’t let the cheerfulness and drinking fool you,” Finn replied, his eyes opening wide.  Ratchis noticed worry lines at the corner of those green eyes that had not been there months before when he had first met the kind young man. “We’ve had an awful, awful time, and for every person celebrating the return of their loved ones, there are two grieving the loss of others.”

He shook his head and then continued.

“We finally found the gnoll chief’s hut, and there was the sign that it _had_ been them that had been stealing villagers and farmers from outlying areas.  It was… It was body parts hanging from tree branches to dry… _human_ parts.  At first we thought they had just eaten everyone, and were going to leave not think revenge was reason enough to risk our lives.”

“Very wise,” said Martin.

Josef shrugged his shoulders and Maria made a disapproving clicking noise in the back of her throat.

“But then we saw they had more prisoners and they seemed to be readying them to travel somewhere, somewhere far from the looks of it, because they wrapped them in furs and skins and had them tied up in line to be pulled along.  We waited awhile after they left because it had recently snowed, and figured we can follow them at our leisure and hope to be led where the others were being held, and that part worked, except we were spotted by the remaining gnolls and were forced to fight for our lives.”

“Luckily, it was soon after dawn, and…”

“Most of the gnolls were sleeping?” Ratchis interrupted.

“Yeah.  How’d ya know?”

“I know a bit about gnolls and their habits,” the half-orc ranger replied.

“Yeah, we killed a few and then we were able to kill a bunch while they were still getting ready or barely waking up,” Finn said, he was looking at his feet dejectedly.  “I…uh, felt kind of bad about killing them that way, but if we had let them wake up or get ready we would have been killed.”

Maria sighed loudly and everyone looked at her.

“What? They were gnolls!” she protested.  “The deserved whatever they got.”

“You had to do what you had to do,” Ratchis said.  “Continue.”

“We searched the chief’s hut very quickly and found a map of Summit and the surround area, including the temple of Bast.  It was weird, because it did not strike us as the kind of map a gnoll would make.  It was painted on hide, but on cow hide, not on the hide of one of their big laughing dog beasts and it was very detailed.  It seemed like a human made it, maybe…  Anyway, we took it and some other tidbits we found and set fire to the place, and then hurried after the trail of the other gnolls and their prisoners, hoping that dragging prisoners would slow them down enough to let us catch up.  Carlos here has become pretty good at following a trail.”

Carlos smiled at Ratchis and patted his chest proudly.

“Hmmph,” was all the half-orc said.

“So we followed them and they led us around that hill just northwest of here and to the temple of Bast,” Finn paused to let the news sink in.  “And the priest met them at the door, and he had these little blue dog men as servants who took the prisoners, and he paid the gnolls as we watched.”

“Perritos,” said Carlos. “Come se dice?  Kobolds.”

“We ambushed and killed the gnolls at that point.  Even though it was over a day away to their camp, the last thing we wanted was for them to find the ruins of their encampment and follow us back to the temple with reinforcements.  The next day we forced our way into the temple, especially since Carlos was feeling much better.”

“Are you saying a priest of _Bast_ was working with the gnolls to capture locals?” Martin said with disbelief.

“It turned out he wasn’t a priest of Bast at all, but a priest of,” Finn lowered his voice to the slightest whisper, afraid to say the name. “Seker.” (3) 

“Are you sure?” Martin asked, with even more disbelief in his voice.

“Yes,” Finn answered.  “He admitted as much in his over-confidence, thinking he would defeat us.  He was using some kind of phylactery to dominate the wills of others.  Some could be reasoned with, but still saw him as a friend, but others were his puppets. Gwar was one of the latter, unfortunately.   He had all the taken people working as his slaves, digging a great tunnel underground.  You see beneath the temple are a few levels of catacombs.  I thought sneaking through a gnoll camp was bad, that place was horrible.”

“I understand the fear of darkness,” Kazrack commented. “I have felt it in my very soul as some of my life-essence was stolen by the undead.”

“Oh yeah!” Finn said, not seeming to be in the mood to match stories. “That priest, he had skeletons down there and some zombies.”

“We found Maria locked down there,” Finn continued.

“The fiend kept trying to charm me, but my will was too strong for him,” Maria added.  “He tried every few days.  If they had not come along I fear he would have fed me to his kobold guardians.”

“Simon and Maria and I were taken by the gnolls while we were out hunting the dragon,” Peter said. “Uh, our brother James was killed trying to defend us, and so was Birinius.”

The two brother’s faces grew dim.

“We think Cheribuck was killed, too,” Peter added, but we never saw it happen.

Martin remembered Cheribuck as a tall and over-talkative pale young man who seemed more than a little touched.  Birinius had been pious young acolyte devoted to Ra who had not yet been ordained, life on the road had been hard for him.

“I am sorry for your loss,” Beorth said to the brothers, and Kazrack and the others nodded.  They shrugged their shoulders; as if unsure of how to show whatever grief they felt.

“What did you do with the phylactery?’ Martin asked after a few moments of silence.

“We burned it,” Finn replied.  “It must have been pretty powerful thing because he seemed to be controlling the skeletons with it as well.  As soon as we destroyed it they all fell to piles of bones, and those who were charmed were freed, though it was too late for… Gwar.”

“Pobrecito,” intoned Carlos, placing a comforting hand on Finn’s shoulder. “Frank eh hassa taken hard, you know?”

“He had to kill his own brother,” Simon said, shaking his head.  Even Maria’s usually annoyed expression soften, and tear came to her eye.  She excused herself and Simon and Peter followed her out.

Beorth stood and walked over and looked down at Finn, “Would you mind if I were to use the power of my god to look into your heart and make sure there was no evil influence upon you?”

“Uh…” Finn hesitated.  “Sure. Go ahead.” 

Beorth closed his eyes, covering them with his left hand and reaching out towards Finn and the others with his right.

“I sense no evil,” Beorth said.

“What was the evil priest trying to dig up?” Kazrack asked.

“That’s the thing, they never finished,” Finn explained.  “It was deep, deep down and he needed more people, but by the time we got there it was partially uncovered, a black stone portal of some sort.” 

“What do you mean by portal?” Martin asked, his eyes narrowing.

“It just seemed to be a black square stone door that plugged up an archway or something,” Finn shrugged.  “We covered it back up the best we could.”

“Is there anything else?” Ratchis asked, feeling the weariness of the last few days climb up to his shoulders all of sudden.

“Oh, just that we found some stuff,” Finn stood and smiled.  “Some loot!  We found a bunch of clay vials we figure might be magical and a scroll tube.  We figured that if you helped us find out what they were you could take two of the potions and the scroll if it is some kind of magicky thing.  You know, as repayment for saving us from the bounty-hunter that time.”

Finn handed a small sack to Martin.  “They are all in here.  Take them, find out what you can about them and then give us back what you don’t want.”

“Tell them about the necklace,” Josef said.

“Yeah, there is a ruby necklace in there. Josef says it’s worth a whole lot, but it is too much for us to get a good price for anywhere around here.  We figured you guys travel further abroad, you take it and see what you can get for it.”

“But what about yourselves?” Kazrack asked.

“We got some other stuff we split,” Finn explained.  “It is not a big deal, really.”

The young fisherman smiled at the Fearless Manticore Killers.  

Everyone bid each other goodnight and promised to meet up again the next day.  Kazrack explained that he was going to make his way to where the dwarves of Abarrane-Abaruch were camping and stay with them.  As the others left Martin turned to Beorth and Ratchis, “Could the portal beneath the temple of Bast be Hurgun’s Maze?” 

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

Kazrack found the common room had emptied and was lit by one dim lamp in the corner.  He was about to make his way out when he heard a soft sobbing to his left.  He investigated.

It was Frank.  The young man had a bead growing in, the hair even lighter than his already near golden brown hair unlike his late brother’s darker features.

The dwarf walked over, as Frank looked up and over at him.  The former shepherd still had a pitcher of ale before him and a mug in his hand.  Drops of foam dripped down onto the damp table, and his head swayed as if he was trying to steady himself on his bench.

“Hey! Kazuh… Kazama…, Rackatak, whatever, did ya hear?” He raised his mug above his ahead, sending ale sloshing over the side.  “We’re heroes!”

Frank’s head dropped back to the table and he let out another whimper.

Kazrack took a seat beside him, and did not say a word.

Frank looked up and wiped his eyes with his sleeve and then took another long sip of ale and coughed.

“I think you’ve had enough of that lad,” Kazrack said.

“I’ve had enough of everything!” Frank wailed.

“I know right now the loss of your brother is hitting you pretty hard,” Kazrack said with sincere sympathy.  “But it will get better.”

“No! It is only going to get harder!” Frank moaned.

“It only feels that way,” Kazrack insisted.

“No, you…you don’t understand,” Frank’s words were slurred, and he gestured with his mug, splattering Kazrack with the remaining drops of ale.  There was a long pause.

“Lemme ask yousumthin’, Rata, Kaza…rackum, whatever… You’re older right?  I mean, dwarves live longer, you been around you know stuff, right?”

Kazrack nodded.

“My brother’s dead, but… but… he had a girlfriend, and… and… before he disappeared he… he…, she’s going to have a baby.”

Frank poured himself another mugful of ale. “And… and now, now she wants _me_ to marry her and be…be the father of that baby…”

“That is quite an honor,” Kazrack said.

“I…I don’t think I want it,” Frank said.  “What should I do?  It is bad enough my brother is dead, but now I have to live his life for him?  He wanted to settle down…I, I was getting used to life on the road.  I almost had Carlos convinced to strike out and form our own adventuring company, and… and anyway, I don’t want to stay here and be a shepherd.  If I wanted to be a shepherd, I would go home one day and do it there… I… I just don’t know.”

He paused again and then continued, “But what kind of brother and uncle would I be if I did not take care of this child and its mother? What kind of man would I be if I just ran away?”

“Frank,” said Kazrack very solemnly.  “There is nothing more precious than a child.  There is no treasure you can find on _any_ adventure that would compare to the chance to shape this child into the man he will become.”

‘Whu…what if it’s a girl?” Frank sniffed.

“Either way.  It matters not,” Kazrack replied.  “And it is possible to learn to love someone.  Would you condemn this girl to be without a husband?  To raise a child on her own?  Your brother’s child?  Your own nephew?”

“Uh… uh…” Frank put his head back down on the table. “I… I guess you are right.  I have to think of it more, but I think you’re right.  Thank you, Rat-cast.”

Kazrack helped the young man to his feet and helped him walk to the Widow Beatrice’s house, where he was being boarded.  The dwarf then made his way down the other side of the ridge to the dwarven camp, where he handed Belear the scroll tube.

The elder dwarf opened it and looked at the scrolls within.

“Why, this is a scroll of restoration!” Belear said with surprise in his voice.

“I knew it would be,” was all Kazrack said.

*End of Session #49*


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

(1)	In late 562/early 563 H.E. the Gothanian Militia was finally able to route or destroy most of the orc occupying the area of Greenreed Valley and to the south by southwest of it, leaving that area open for settlement.  Sightings of the dragon began several months later.

(2)	*DM’s Note:* Gnolls are Ratchis’ species enemy.

(3) Seker is the god of deception and betrayal. Also known as the god of light and darkness, his priest are legendary for taking deep cover in organizations for years before finally using the trust and authority they’ve gained to cause bitter chaos and cause great bloodshed and loss.


----------



## RedShirtNo5

nemmerle said:
			
		

> There have been 41 views of this thread since the last installment and not one comment!  What gives?  Who are you lurky lurkers?




Well, you might get more comments from lurkers if the NPCs were like me, i.e., voiceless automatons who get sacrified for the good of the PCs.  Instead, you manage to invest each NPC with a distinct personality, making the reader care about their fate.  Honestly, stop doing that!  Also, lay off the convoluted plots, the dialog, and the interesting moral quandries.  Just some constructive criticism.

-RedShirt


----------



## Manzanita

Hey - great updates.  What a treat to drop by after a spell and find not one, but TWO precious updates.

First I want to thank you for allowing that restoration scroll to fall into Kazrack's hands.  There's nothing I hate more as a player than to see my PC struck down life levels, and not be able to restore them.  Just kill me & let me start a new PC!

I am surprized as Kazracks' optomism though, since it seems a small lapse in rat-bastarding DMing.  Still,  I like the  prophesy, and how it is fullfilled in Fin's group.  I'd ask how that all came together, but I guess these things happen.  Luck happens more to those well-prepared, as it were.

Thanks for the updates Nemmerle!


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## Look_a_Unicorn

I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say the last three updates have been the most interesting & intriguing ones that you've put together in a while. Not to say the others are bad, just that these stand out- have you been enjoying writing them to a greater degree? It just seems like it.

So yeah, thanks for the early Xmas present Nemmerle- it's much appreciated 

I can also sympathise with Kazrack's level drain, my Bard/Rogue lost two levels to a Specter two sessions ago, with no high-level cleric in sight .


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #50*

Beorth decided he did not want to stay at the inn and made his way down to where the dwarves were camped, and Derek joined him.  Jeremy ended up staying with Ratchis.

Martin left the room and made his way to the room that had been prepared for him.  He opened the door and sitting there with a glass of wine was a figure in robes of varying shades of red, from deep blood red, to nearly a flaming orange.  He had curly red hair and a well-kept beard.

“Richard!” Martin said, coming in and closing the door.

“I was hoping I’d run into you,” said Richard smiling and standing.

“Well, waiting in my room uninvited is one way to assure that,” retorted Martin.

Richard the Red shrugged his shoulders. “I was hoping you had time to discuss a few things.”

“Of course,” Martin replied.  “Do you have a room?”

“No, but I have a… place I am staying,” Richard said, he gestured towards the door.

The two Academy mages left the inn. Richard began to lead the way northward out of town.

“Where are we going?” Martin asked.

“Oh, I got tired of having to keep a guise up all the time while in town, so when a nearby place opened up I decided to headquarter there for a while,” Richard explained.

“The temple of Bast?” Martin asked.

“Uh-huh,” Richard replied.  “Now, tell me, what have you been up to?  I hope you have not forgotten our deal to exchange information.”

“No, I have not,” Martin said, grudgingly and began to go into a truncated version of what had occurred at the Necropolis.  Richard seemed most interested in the books that had been recovered.

“Any enchantments on the books?” he asked.

“On two, but we have a rune-thrower with us that should be able to dispel them,” Martin explained.

“You still have not gotten that spell?” Condescension entered the older watch-mage’s voice. “You know, as part of our information exchange, if you let me examine the books I would be happy to pen you a scroll with the _dispel magic_ spell on it.”

Martin stopped walking.  The woods were dark. There was a nip to the air, and crickets were out in force.  

“I remember the talk we had before about the watch-mage oath,” Martin said.

“What about it?”

“That newly graduated academy wizards are less experienced, and that older…uh, more mature wizards such as yourself are in a better position to regulate magic and know what can be used safely and for what purpose.”

“I still believe that,” replied Richard.

Martin stepped backward away from Richard and back towards Summit.

“What else did you want to talk about?” Martin asked, a hint of nervousness and annoyance entering his voice.

“Why are you getting so frazzled, Martin?” Richard asked, stepping towards the younger watch-mage.  He flashed a smile that glowed in the blurry moonlight of Mind’s Eie (1)  “Look, we are each doing our own thing.  We have our own agendas and responsibilities, but obviously these overlap in places, and information you have may help me and vice versa.  Or you may have information you do not understand completely yet, and much like when one puts together a jigsaw puzzle., sometimes you have to turn the pieces around and examine them from all angles to see how they fit with another.  And another set of eyes, so to speak, can really be helpful.  We are both watch-mages of the Academy, both tradition and mandate say we are supposed to aid one another.”

“I don’t believe that what you are trying to accomplish is all that helpful and good,” Martin replied.  “And I am not sure I _want_ to provide you with information that you can ‘turn around’.  It is my responsibility as watch-mage to assure that one of our order is not misusing his power and authority. And… and… I get the impression that there is a lot you don’t share with me.”

Richard sighed and looked down.  When he looked back up the smile had left his face and his blue eyes burned with derision. “I’ve been nothing but helpful to you, Martin.  Training, spells, information.  If anything you’ve been withholding from _me_.”

He paused and composed himself and then continued.  “I assume you don’t have the books on you, so if you want to turn around and go back and get them before we go any further, let’s do it now.”

Martin paused.

“I think I’ll be going back…” He finally said.

“For the books?”

Martin shook his head.  “Our agreement was limited…”

“Martin, you are making a mistake,” Richard said.  Now it was his turn to shake his head.

“Two great evils released into the world,” Martin said.

“Huh?”

“Two witches,” Martin explained. (2)

“Two?  I released only one,” Richard protested.  And Martin was taken aback.  Certainly Richard was a good liar, but it seemed a strange thing to lie about when he readily admitted he was planning to free all three.

“One, three, it does not matter,” Martin said, recovering quickly.  “I don’t think I should give you the material to do even more harm.”

“You don’t see the whole picture,” Richard said.

“I’ve heard that before.”

Richard paused again.

“The wedge between us may cause you more harm that it will me, Martin,” Richard said, sitting on a stump.  “I know you know more than you’ve told me about the gnomes.  Fine.  I know you know more than you’ve told me about the books.  Fine.  I know you know more than you’ve told me about Rindalith. Fine.  But don’t think you can hold against me some information I may have withheld.  This works both ways.  And I know you have been cautious.  _Overly_ cautious.”

Richard stood again.

“If you want to end our agreement to share information, fine.  But answer me one last thing.  You owe me at least that much since it is you who are breaking your word.  The monks of Anubis, or whatever they are, that you mentioned, are they looking for a place or a thing?”

Again, Martin was surprised.  “What do you want to know about them for?  And, uh… I don’t know what they are looking for anyway.”

“Then our agreement is ended,” Richard said with disappointment in his voice.

Martin shrugged his shoulders and turned to walk back to town.  “I wish I could wish you farewell and good luck.”

‘Well, I can wish you good luck, Martin,” Richard called after him.  “There are far too many watch-mages that do not make it back to the reunions.  Let us hope you are not one of them.”


Ralem, 22nd of Prem – 565 H.E.

The next day was one of errands and chores.  Belear was able to use the scroll to restore some of Kazrack’s life energy (3) and Ratchis used a gem to pay for the might composite longbow he had ordered the last time the party was in town. (4)

Midday found Beorth and Derek in the inn common room sharing a meal.

“I’ve been thinking about the people in our little bad,” the paladin said.

“Yes?” Derek took a swig of goat’s milk, and then wiped his upper lip.

“It seems I don’t know much about anyone in it, and what I did know I have forgotten,” Beorth continued. “So I was wondering if you could tell me a little about what you’ve done before you joined us as a start… It’s just that, well, you seem very young.”

“I’m old enough to be conscripted,” Derek said with a laugh.  “I guess that is all that matters.  My dad signed my up with a recruiter to come up to Derome-Delem as a way to avoid the war.  However, my entire group was slaughtered in the Ogre Wood on our way westward from Ettinnos.”

“The Ogre Wood?”

“It is about two weeks east of here, maybe slightly more, since you have to go south around the undead lands,” Derek explained.

Beorth nodded solemnly.

“I was left for dead, but was found by a woodsman named Red Arrow.  He was a ranger who helped people on the road and who traveled a lot.  He nursed me back to health and showed me some his craft.  I did not learn until later that he was sick…dying.  He asked that I would bring a message to Martin the Green that he was supposed to deliver; a message from Barnstable the Brown in Ettinos, another academy wizard.”

Beorth nodded again.

“So, what do you think of the others in our group?” the paladin asked.

“Well…” But Derek did not get to answer as Ratchis came walking into the inn and joined them.

Martin walked in soon after, having returned from talking with Maxel.  And at the same time Maria came down from her room and sat with them when Ratchis waved her over.

“So, where do you plan to go looking for the dragon?” Ratchis asked her.

“We’re planning to go into that steamy area.  It’s gotten bigger over the last few months.  They say the dragon breathes fire, maybe it’s the cause,’ she replied.

“There are dangerous creatures in there,” Ratchis said. He signaled for one of the barmaids to bring more food to the table.

“I didn’t come all the way out her to avoid danger,” Maria said.  “Bad enough I was locked away out of action for so long.”

“Well, I don’t think the dragon is among them,’ Ratchis said, his eyes widening at the tray of stew and bread the barmaid brought over.

“Well, once we scrounge up two more people to come along with us we’ll be finding out for ourselves,” Maria stood, grabbing a huge chunk of bread and dipped it in Ratchis’ stew and took a big bite.  “I need to get some gear and see who’s around.  Nice talking to ya!”

She took off and Martin took the opportunity to tell the others about his conversation with Richard the Red the night before.

“Is this the group of monks I fought with?” Beorth asked, trying his hardest to delve into the inky depth of his memory, but only coming up something Jana had recounted to him. (5)

“I assume so,” Martin replied.

“Did I ever say why I fought with them?” Beorth asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” Martin replied.  “But I guess you felt they were in the wrong about the dire ram they had captured.”

“I think that ‘door’ beneath the temple is a more immediate problem than the monks,” Ratchis said.

“Well, now that your deal is off with Richard,” Beorth asked the watch-mage.  “Do you think that he will allow us to examine the door peacefully since he is now holed up in the temple of Bast?”

“The chances do not seem very high,” Martin sighed.

“Perhaps a message to Barnstable the Brown can help you decide if this Richard the Red person is worth trusting,” Derek suggested.

The feasibility of getting a message to the distant watch-mage (and getting a reply) was then discussed in detail.

Kazrack soon entered the inn and made the suggestion that the party hire Finn Fisher and his crew to deliver the message for them.

“Don’t you think their preparations for traveling to Ettinos will look like their preparations for deserting?” Ratchis asked.

“Anyway, it might be important for them to stay here,” Martin suggested. “From what Maxel says the aldermen of all the alder-villages of Gothanius have been called to Twelve Trolls to discuss the matter of the gnomes and the dead mercenaries (6), and that the last time this happened it led to what people around here call ‘the orc skirmishes’, that is the gathering of the militia. I don’t think they want to be caught wandering too far abroad when all these militia men start wandering in this direction.”

As everyone but Kazrack thought this put an end to the idea of sending a message by means of the group of dragon-hunters that had come to be known as ‘the Shepherds’, the discussion was put to rest and it was decided that they would gather their things and leave immediately to Garvan to find out what was happening to their gnomish friends and see what could be done about averting war between the peaceful earth people and the people of the Gothanius.

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

The Fearless Manticore Killers and their dwarven companions marched down into Greenreed Valley and then northward to the tunnel leading back out of it and to the woods beyond it where the gnome community was somewhere to be found. (7)  

It was suggested to Martin that since Thomas knew the way he might be sent ahead and see how safe it was since he might be able to communicate with a gnome if he found a friendly one. (8) Martin sent Thomas off to scout ahead with a reminder to be careful.

“I’m doing this on one condition,” Thomas said mentally to his master, leaping to a tree.

“What’s that?” Martin asked.

“That when we get to gnomes you’ll take that ring off so I can enjoy some nuts for a change,” the squirrel admonished. (9) 

Martin agreed.  “I already told you I would.”

The group marched past the burnt out safehouse where they had first encountered the gnomes and where they had seen the projected image of Mozek what seemed like a million years before.  It was hard to believe that one was just months ago, and the later just barely two weeks before.  They headed towards where they had fought the undead Gothanian mercenaries and the fiendish gnomes brothers of Mozek. 

It was not far past here when Martin called mentally to Thomas to find out if he had seen or heard anything, that Ratchis called for everyone to stop.  He could see a wolverine climbing head first down a tree towards them, growling and its fur bristling.

“I think…” he began.

“The gnome are here,!” Martin cried mentally to Martin.

“Everyone hold where you are!” A high-pitched voice called from the brush surrounding them. 

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

*Notes*

(1) _Mind’s Eie_ is the name of Aquerra’s moon.  It gives a hazy gray light like a dirty pearl.  

(2) The party first met Richard the Red when he was trying to go through with a plan to free three powerful drow witches from captivity in order to sow more chaos and dissention in the dark elf ranks and delay the war on the surface they were planning.  (See Session #21)

(3) *DM’s Note:* Kazrack had one level restored, bringing him to a level 2 priest / level 3 fighter.

(4) *DM’s Note:* Despite his 18 strength, Ratchis was only able to afford to get a strength bow that allowed for bonuses to damage up to a 16 strength.

(5) The fight in question occurred in Session #31.

(6) The party came across the aftermath of this battle in session #39.

(7) Remember, When the party was first brought there they were blindfolded and led around a while so as to not be able to determine where Garvan actually was.

(8) Some gnomes learn the ability to speak with small burrowing animals.

(9) Thomas has beeen ‘suffering’ from the effects of _Lacan’s Demise_ as well (the Ring of Sustenance).


----------



## Manzanita

Hey, I loved this update.  Nice to be getting back to the continuity of the story.  Escaped drow witches, Richard the Red, Dragon hunting, battling priests of Anubis.  I hope Beorth and Derek get to continue their conversation.  I Want to know!  & I hope Kazrack can get his lost level back.  Good luck FMK!


----------



## el-remmen

Thanks, Manz!

Speaking of "getting back to the story continuity" - I started a reprise of the story hour over at Nutkinland's Fun & Games forum.  I started from way back: Session #1.  

In February it will be 3 years since that first session was played.


----------



## handforged

I finally found time to catch back up with this SH after returning from Italy, and I am very pleased.  The players certainly are emphasizing their characters' quirks, and it makes for a great story.  Can't wait for more.  Thanks for giving me something fun to read while I was sick.

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

I am diligently working on the next installment; the end of session #50.

We just played session #72 yesterday.


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

nemmerle said:
			
		

> I am diligently working on the next installment; the end of session #50.
> 
> We just played session #72 yesterday.




Excellent, that means I'll have more reading to distract me from work well into the immediate future


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #50 (part II)*

“We have come to help you and your people,” Ratchis called out, putting his hands in the air, but holding his hammer in them.   Kazrack gripped his halberd.

From all sides there now appeared several gnomish armored forms, and three more wolverines.  The dwarves all tensed automatically, and Captain Adalar swung his great axe above his head.

“Hold!” called the voice of burly gnome with long gray pointed beard and a trimmed mustache.  It was Captain Fistandilus. “There are thos among you we count as friends.  We only ask that you drop your weapons and kneel on the ground.”

Beorth leaned in slowly towards Martin the Green and whispered, “Are these friends or foes?”

“These are friends, not the enemy,” Martin replied, crossing his fingers.

“If you are truly our friends you will know we need not lay down our weapons,” replied Kazrack to the gnomes, and Ratchis nodded in agreement.

“Hey come on these are our friends right?” Jeremy asked spinning around looking at familiar faces.  Obenhammer waved at him and then quickly placed his steadying hand back on his cocked crossbow.   “We an just put down our weapons.  I don’t see any of the bad ones.”

Martin got on his knees and put both hands in the air.

“How do we know this is not a trap of the evil gnomes?” Captain Adalar asked, leaning into Kazrack.

“I have faith that these gnomes mean us no harm and are only protecting their home as any would,” said Beorth dropping his sword and getting on his knees. “I have only heard of their hospitality and friendship secondhand, but I will not repay it with suspicion even if my memory doth betray me, my integrity shall not.”

Derek put a finger to his mouth to keep from laughing and rolled his eyes at Jeremy who gestured with his weapon downward before dropping it and fell to his knees.  Derek mimicked him.

Captain Adalar looked back and forth from Kazrack to Belear.

“I remember these gnomes fondly.  I trust them with my life,” Belear said, gesturing to all the dwarves and he also dropped his weapon and got down on his knees.  The dwarves all followed suit, some less grudgingly than others.

Ratchis looked over at Beorth who was simply looking down at the ground eyes closed as if in prayer.   He dropped his hammer and knelt, even as Kazrack did the same. 

The gnomes came among them all and collected the weapons and looked at them all closely.

“Oh! Hi Beorth!” said Obenhammer, picking up the paladin’s sword.  “Oh yeah, uh… don’t move or anything okay?”  The rosy-cheeked gnome winked and tugged on his own silver beard.

Captain Fistandalus leaned his heavy silvered warhammer on his shoulder and walked over to Ratchis and Kazrack, standing where he could easily see Martin and Beorth as well.  Even with Ratchis kneeling the captain only reached his shoulder.

“It is good that you have returned.  Many things have happened in your absence,” he said.  “You may stand.”

The Fearless Manticore Killers and the dwarven companions did.

“We will bring you back to our home and you shall be our guests again as we tell you all of what has happened and what it means for our people,” Captain Fistandilus said.  “You will have to be blind-folded, but I think we can do without the binding of hands this time.

“Is your Interim Chief there?” Ratchis asked, tensing.

“The Interim Chief is no longer among us,” Fistandilus replied.

“I trusted you last time, Captain.  I will trust you again,” Kazrack said, Jeremy furrowed his brow in response.

The dwarves grumbled as they were blind-folded, but soon they all were being led slowly along.

“This time we will not take such a circuitous route,” the Captain said.  “You were closer than you probably think.”

“Hey Martin!” the Watch-Mage heard a familiar high-pitched voice from beneath his blindfold.  “It’s me Briendel!”

“Briandel, I am glad to know you are all right,” Martin replied.

“Yeah, but a lot of bad stuff has been happening,” Briendel said, sadness entering his voice.  “Uh, you are coming up on a tree root on your right, step carefully.”  

“I’m just glad you’re alive,” Martin told the gnome who had trained him some in the illusory arts, and who had traded spells with him.

“Yeah, but a lot of good gnomes aren’t,” Briendel’s voice trailed off.

Obenhammer was marching near Beorth and said, “Yeah, we aren’t supposed to tell you much, because you know the current leader has to decide about you and stuff, but that battle was terrible.” 

The gnome shuddered.

“New leader?” Beorth asked, puzzled.

“Oh, well, I’m really not supposed to say, heck I don’t even know who the leader is _today_.”

Beorth was even more puzzled, but Obie did not elucidate any more.

They marched for some time, at leas t part of which was underground, but as opposed to the overnight affair the last time the party was brought to the gnome community of Garvan, they had barely walked three hours, when they were told they could remove their blindfolds.

Once again they in the middle of four hill carves with terraces and balconies and plateaus, and scores and scores of gnomes peered from every corner looking down at the Fearless Manticore Killers and their dwarven companions.

The central area was not several feet deep in snow as it had been when the party was lat here, now it and the hills that made it were dotted with small colorful flowers, and birds of many kind, both songbirds and chickens of golden plumage were everywhere, chirping and clucking away.  Somewhere, a dog barked.

Captain Fistandilus called out to his people, “Garvan! You remember our friends Kazrack, Jeremy, Martin, Beorth, Ratchis and the wise rune-thrower, Belear.  They have returned and will be staying with us briefly.”

The gnomes cheered and clapped, and soon the party and companions were being ushered into the quarters they had stayed at before.  The home of Distilbowden and his little nephew Cornelius.  The dwarves were all led to the upper rooms just beyond the common area, where Belear had stayed before.

As the others bustled in the common area, getting ready for a meal Distelbowden was going to serve them, Jeremy paused at a familiar door.  It had been in the room behind it that Jana and Chance had spent so many passionate nights and lazy morning together. (1) He placed a hand on the door and thought of his two dead friends.  He looked up and saw Martin looking at him from the common area.  The Watch-mage frowned slightly.  

The dwarves were rambunctious.  Happy to be in rooms and tunnels carved out of the earth for the purpose of warmth and shelter and comfort like their people did, not for some foul purpose.  The smell of food came wafting from the kitchen and the energy in the room rose with anticipation.

“Will we have time to talk tonight?” Martin asked, Briendel who was joining them.  “And will your brother be joining us?” (2)

Briendel’s face grew mournful, and his usual smile turned into a tight little ‘o’ atop his dimpled chin and beneath his bulbous nose.  “Socher was killed in the battle,” he said.

“I…I’m sorry,” Martin replied, putting a hand on the gnome’s shoulder.

“I’m gonna see if old Distel need help in the kitchen” Briendel said, hopping to his feet with a slightly forced smile.

Martin turned to Ratchis, “Could you have some healing magics ready for me?”

“Huh?”

“I am going to take off my ring (3),” Martin replied.  “And I am afraid all the effects of not eating would hit me all at once.”

“I don’t know that even the curing miracles of could repair that,” Ratchis’ furrowed his brow.

“No harm in trying if it means I’m going die anyway.”

“Why take it off?” Jeremy asked, walking over.

“I just… I need to… I need to eat something and so does Thomas.  I may not be hungry, but there is something comforting mentally about food, and Thomas is having a really hard time because it is harder for him to understand, but it is not picnic for me either,” Martin replied in a rush of annoyed words.  The smell of the food was mocking him.  

“Maybe we should get some food in front of you first,” Ratchis suggested.  “Wait a moment.”

The half-orc ducked into the kitchen and came out with a bowl of soup and some bread and butter.  Martin could hear Distelbowden playfully cursing in gnomish back in the kitchen, understanding a few of the cuss words from things Briendel and Socher had called each other at times.

Ratchis placed the food before the watch-mage and Martin grabbed the ring between two fingers.

“Here goes everything,” Martin quipped and slipped it off.

Suddenly, Martin coughed and then gasped, and then the gasp was echoed by the others in the room as they saw a great change overcome him.  The very flesh on his body began to wear away before them, as if time had sped up.  The doughiness of his boy-like cheeks shriveled down until his f ace was gray and sallow and his eyes were rheumy and seemed to bulge.  The bit of extra girth he carried around his middle was gone in a moment, and his robes drooped down as they suddenly became very baggy.   He threw his head back and then collapsed forward with a wheeze.  Thomas’ shriveled form came falling from Martin’s collar.  The squirrel seemed like naught more than a raggedy piece of gray leather.

“Martin!” Ratchis dropped a cloth knapkin in the soup and leapt over the table, and tilting the watch-mage’s head back, began to drip soup into his mouth. 

Derek scooped up Thomas and held him up, as Jeremy dripped honey into the little squirrel’s mouth.

They lived, but would needs days of rest and careful tending. 

“It seems to me that he will need to rest and be fed for several days,” Belear said to Kazrack when he emerged from the watch-mage’s room, where Ratchis still tended him.  “And to never put that foul ring on again.”

Kazrack shrugged his shoulders, as if to say he had long ago given up trying to convince the others to do anything.

The meal was served and the dwarves dug in with great appetite.  They seemed more jovial than when out on the road and were soon making boasts and promises about what they would do when they returned to Abarrane-Abaruch.  They treated the gnomes with friendly deference, being the behaving as the perfect guests for their earthy cousins. 

“Lord Distelbowden, I heartily thank you for this meal, and am grateful for your generosity especially after such a battle  as was fought by your people not so long ago,” Beorth said, wondering if he was as careful to learn everyone’s name _before_ he had lost his memory.  Nowadays even thing he learned he was certain to remember; pages of parchment filled with notes were wadded in his pack.

“Battle? Who told you about a battle?” asked Ashkenbach, who had joined them for the meal as well.

“Obenhammer,” said Beorth looking at the gnome, who turned a bright red beneath his gray-brown skin.

“Hmmm,” Ashkenbach shot a disapproving glance over at Obie.  “He’s not supposed to speak of that.  Only the leader can.  I was the leader two days ago, but I’m not anymore.”

“Huh?” Beorth was puzzled again.

“Let me explain,” said Distilbowden, filling mugs with more steaming _kafka_.  “We had to go to the ‘new law’, which is really the old law we used before going back to the new law which was renounced with the retain to chiefdom.  It was declared that the return to the old law would incorporate the ‘new law’, if by customs of old law the chief were not present to choose an interim chief.”

“I think I need to echo Beorth’s ‘huh?’” Jeremy laughed.

“Basically, when the chief is not around to choose an interim chief we go back to the law that replaced the use of a chief which had been abandoned in place of a chiefdom,” Obenhammer said.

“So, what is this _new_ old law?” Kazrack asked.

“People take turns every few day being the leader, and all decision go through them,” Ashkenbach explained.

Kazrack rolled his eyes.

“You all take turns?” Jeremy was incredulous.

“Well, a few days at a time and if someone wants they can just give the responsibility to someone else for the day,” Ashkenbach said in a tone that told him he thought everyone knew this.  “That is how the line of chieftains was first picked, they were given leadership more often than anyone else.”

“So there’s not going to be a fight, right?” Captain Adalar.

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Ashkenbach shrugged his shoulders.

“It is better that we did not have to fight,” Belear said.

“So what happened to the Interim Chief?’ Jeremy asked.

Ashkenbach and Obenhammer lookd at each other and then former said, “You have to wait for whoever is leader to tell you, or for them to tell the captain that he can do it.”

“So, Captain Ironhammer is not the leader?” Ratchis asked, walking into the room.

“No, but people give him leadership often,” Distilbowden said.

“Well Captain Fistandlus deserves the honor,” Kazrack said. “He always struck me as a wise and dedicated leader.”

“And if it comes to war, these gnomes are going to need one,” Ratchis said.

Everyone looked at him.

“War?” Little Cornelius asked, looking scared.  Distilbowden looked at Ratchis with disappointment. 

“It could come to that,” Ratchis said.

“The breach gnomes would hold anyone out,” Obenhammer said, winking at Cornelius.

“What’s a breach gnome?” Derek asked, speaking for the first time since arriving.  He was overwhelmed by the fact that he was actually in a gnomish town.  He had never experienced what the others had become so used to.

Cornelius stood and left the room.  He seemed upset, and Distilbowden still looking disappointed went after him.

“What was that about?” Jeremy asked, and Adalar sneered at him for acting as if it had not happened as a good guest should do.

“He’s just upset because I’m a breach gnome,” Obenhammer said.

“What’s a breach gnome?” Jeremy asked, echoing Derek’s question.

“Let it lie,” Belear said, sternly.

A gloom had come over the room, and the normally cheerful gnomes.  For a long time the only sound was that of people eating.

“With Mozek dead, it just _may_ come to war,” Ashkenbach said.

“Ash!” Obie cried out, surprised.  ‘We aren’t supposed to…”

”Oh, they were going to find out anyway,” Askenbach said, and he cleared his own dishes bringing them into the kitchen.

Ratchis raised and eyebrow, but Kazrack smiled broadly, “It is both happy and amusing that what we’ve worried about for so long turns out to be not a worry after all.”

“Yes, now instead of having to kill a half-fiend gnome, we only have to stop the kingdom we are contractually bound to from going to war with our hospitable gnome friends here,” Beorth said.

“Don’t think I would hesitate to take the side of gnomes,” Ratchis said.  “If it comes to that.”

“We can’t let it come to that,” Kazrack said, and Beorth nodded.

“That’d be pretty terrible,” Jeremy chimed in.

“Maybe that’s what Mozek wanted,” Beorth theorized.  The Obenhammer, the only gnome left in the room began to look distressed. “Uh, now I remember why we’re supposed to keep quite.  Best you let the Captain explain it all to you first chance he gets before you go concocting stories.”

Cornelius came back into the room with Disilbowden, and Obenhammer stood.

“I have to go back on duty,” he said, and not clearing his own plates tussled Cornelius’ hair and bid farewell.

After the meal, Kazrack suggested the Fearless Manticore Killer retire to the public house to discuss the information they had gained and their options for preventing war.

“Why would you go to the pub to discuss?’ Cornelius asked in a puzzled voice.  “It’s for singing and dancing and drinking.”  

“Pub!” Golnar, Tolnar and Jolnar said at once, and though they had to wait until after they helped Distil with the dishes (by order of Captain Adalar) they soon hurried over to raucous pub across the way.

The other made their way over in time.

“Wait ‘til you see this place,” Jeremy said to Derek.  “Be ready for the headache of your life tomorrow!”

Ratchis and Beorth checked on Martin before going over.

As Kazrack and Belear left the ‘guest burrows’ to go to the public house, the elder dwarf said, “You know to the humans the Mountain Wars were long ago, but to us people of earth and stone it was not so long ago.”

“It was in my grandsire’s time,” Kazrack nodded.

“If it comes to it and these fine gnomes are attacked by human forces then old treaties and alliances will be remembered.  Even if Abarrane-Aberuch is too busy with its own problems to help, they will send heralds to other strongholds calling for aid to the gnomes.  This could have very big consequences if not handled correctly.”

Kazrack nodded gravely.  “I am sure when Martin wakes up he’ll figure something out.  He is good with human diplomacy and law and custom.  He’ll be able to talk the human king out of doing it.  I have faith in him.”

“You put your _faith_ in a human mage,” Belear sighed.  “Kazrack, you never cease to amaze me.”

“The world of our creator is an amazing place.  I am due no credit.”

Belear let out a deep belly laugh and slapped Kazrack on the shoulder with avuncular affection.

-----

There was a grand time to be had at the public house that night.  There was much dancing and singing, and even Jeremy took a turn to swing around and show the gnomes a Neergaardian dance he had learned as a boy.  And all the while the dwarves sang along and drank endless amounts of mead and ale, barking at each other in slurred dwarvish and laughing a great deal.

Both Ratchis and Beorth left early, but Kazrack remained with his brethren and Jeremy and Derek were happily drunk and watching the mayhem as Jolnar, Tolnar and Golnar began to have wrestling matches against some of the burlier gnomes.  The laughed drunkenly as the slammed into each other and held each other in tight armlocks.  The gnomes cheered each move, and one gnomes began to call the matches in high-pitch and drunken gnomish.


Isilem, 23rd of Prem – 565 H.E.


Kazrack spent the day working in the great gnomish smithy and could see that they were preparing for war, making a great number of helmets and shields and axes and other weapons.   Workers were tirelessly pinching together chain shirts.  The heat rose up in visible waves.   While he was there he found out that the armor Beorth had ordered when he was last here was completed.  The paladin would now have a suit of splint mail to wear.

Martin spent the day in bed, but Briendel kept him company.  The gnome was able to dispel the ward on the two remaining books found at the Necropolis that had not been opened, and as suspected they were spell book with dark necromancy spells in them of up to the 5th House. (4)

“Ooh, wow! Look at this one,’ Briendel said, pointing excitedly to page.  “It lets you send out a wave of death in all directions from the caster!  I’ve never seen anything like that!”

“Yes, that will have to be destroyed,” Martin said.

Briendel clucked his tongue, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

In the evening after the fourth meal, the Fearless Manticore Killers gathered in the common area to talk.  Most of the dwarves went back to the public house, and they propped Martin up in a cushioned chair, with Thomas cradled in his lap.  Kazrack had invited Belear to come, but no gnomes were present. 

“I was thinking that we could get some messages I wanted to send to my fellow Academy mage and perhaps to the Academy itself translated into gnomish, and then send them when we get back to town.  That way, if they are intercepted it is unlikely anyone will be able to know what they say, but another watch-mage should either _know_ gnomish or have access to someone who does,” Martin explained.

“And perhaps we can leave word so that if a message returns for you with specific instructions as to what is to be done, but we are away we can have Finn and his group do it, if it is not too dangerous,” Kazrack suggested.

“We are not going to drag those boys into this,” Ratchis said.

“They are boys no longer,” said Beorth. “I do not remember them from before, but they have the look of those who have killed and nearly died in their eyes; _that_ look I know.”

“Let’s attend to the matter at hand,” Ratchis said.  “What do you all make of Mozek’s supposed death?”

“I don’t believe it,” Kazrack said immediately and Martin nodded weakly.

Beorth only shrugged.

“He can’t be dead,” Jeremy said, matter-of-factly.  “If he were dead it’d just be _too_ easy, and if there is one thing I have learned since joining this group is that _nothing_ is easy.”

Derek chuckled.

Ratchis turned to Martin, ignoring Jeremy.  “Do you think it is possible that the demon was inside of Mozek like a possessing spirit? And when the body died the spirit moved on?”

“I don’t know, but we best try to find out _when_ it supposedly happened so we can work it out with when we last saw him,” Martin coughed.  

“There is a bigger question than any of these,” Beorth said.  “We are getting bogged down in details, but the real question is ‘why all of this attention focused here all at once?’  Academy wizards, mysterious monks, demon spawn and drow witches, all here, all now.  That is not a coincidence.”

“Hurgun’s Maze,” Martin coughed out.  “That’s all it could be.  There are thing I have read in those books we recovered from the Necropolis that lead me to believe that there is a lot more to it than we even thought before.”

“Those books mention Hurgun’s Maze?” Kazrack asked.

“No, but it speaks of the realm of shadow, what some sages all the ethereal plane and how this whole area of this plane is somehow weakened because of the existence of four nodes of power.  The Necropolis was one of them.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Jeremy said.

“And you think Hurgun’s Maze is one of them?” Beorth asked.

“No, actually I don’t,” Martin said. “It pretty much says where the four are, but comparing the description to the maps of the area I made at Aze Nuquerna I think that one of them is where the Pit of Bones is now.”

“Pit of Bones?” Derek asked.

“It is a former dwarven citadel, now a great chasm of rock and bone.  Martin was able to discover in the tomes of Aze Nuquerna that it was the last known place where a map could be found that told of the location of Hurgun’s Maze,” Beorth said.

“I thought you lost your memory, but you remember this stuff better than I do,” Jeremy quipped.

“Jana told me much, and I asked a lot of questions and took notes,” replied Belear.

“I have a different answer for that question,” Kazrack said, smiling and nudging Martin with an elbow.

Martin groaned and clutched his side. 

“I was even there once, but I only know because I was told and because I found reference to it in my own notes,” Beorth said, his tone grew even colder than usual. (5)

“So that is where we’re going next,” Ratchis said.  “The Pit of Bones.  Mozek told us he had already found Hurgun’s Maze, so we need to go after him.  We can’t let him have access to the power that is there.”

“But if he already knows where it is then he’d already be there and it wouldn’t matter what we did,” Jeremy reasoned.

“We don’t know how long it would take him to harness the power or even discover how to,” Beorth said.  “We can’t _not_ try.”

“Another possibility is that he doesn’t know where it is and is counting us to find it for him and reveal its location,” Martin croaked.  “We have thought that he was scrying on us before.”

“It matters not,” replied Kazrack. “We’re going to have to take the chance.”

At that moment, Captain Fistandlus walked in, followed by Distelbowden and Cornelius.

“I will make you all some tea,” Diselbowden said, hurrying his nephew into the kitchen.

“I have come to speak with you sooner rather than later because I know my people cannot resist the telling of a tale and you will hear a dozen versions before you hear two that match,” the Captain said in his dour tone that was so unlike any of the other gnomes.

“You honor us with you time and attention,” Beorth said, and he bowed his freshly shaven head.

The doughty captain placed his helmet and blade on the table and pulled out a small bench so he could face everyone.

“Where should we begin?” asked Fistandlus.

“Start when we left here last,” suggested Beorth, taking out his scraps of parchment and his quill.

The captain sighed and began.

“After your escape I was imprisoned by Mozek and the last of the old chieftain’s guards were removed and Mozek’s brothers were put in charge of defense.  Mozek was convinced that I had arranged your escape.”

Distilbowden came in with a tray full of mugs and a huge steam pot of tea.

“But I don’t remember you being the one to help us escape,” Kazrack said.

“I didn’t,” Captain Fistandlus said.  “I would not disobey my chieftain, even an interim one, even Mozek – but when he imprisoned me without calling on a council of peers y fears about him were confirmed.”

“That he’s a demon?” Jeremy asked.

Captain Fistandlus screwed up his face and snorted.

“That he was corrupt, as I had discovered some of his younger brothers to be and had forbade them from being part of the tribes or to tend to the wolverine dens; that he was only interested in having power over our people,” he said.  “However, little more than a fortnight ago Mozek came to me in my cell. He told me that human forces were marching on our community.  He told me that they had already been intercepted by a border patrol and they had nearly been wiped out, and that they were accompanied by a powerful priest of an evil human priest who enslaved the wills of dead men to do his bidding.”

Beorth’s eyes narrowed.

Captain Fistandlus paused.  He lifted a mug to his lips and blew the steam away, and then put it back down.

“Mozek went on to tell me that the survival of Garvan depended on our working together and putting our differences aside, and that my skills as a leader and warrior were needed, along with calling those gnomes that had left the community against Mozek’s command against it to come and help, as among them were some of our best warriors and scouts.”

“And he was telling the truth?” Beorth asked.

“Yes, he released me and we coordinated an attack,” the Captain continued.  “It was a more terrible fight than I’ve ever been in. The human soldiers wore black and the heraldry of the human kingdom.  We have traveled among them unseen in days past enough to know it.  The human priest would make the very men we killed rise again and attack, and the soldiers seemed to be mercenaries, hired, for they were more seasoned than the farmers and tradesmen who fought the Fir-Hargre a bit ago.”

“Did the priest have a holy symbol?” Kazrack asked.

“A serpent,” replied Fistandilus.  “The miracles he called down from his dark god were heinous.  He killed Mozek and I soon after I killed him.  One of the Gothanian lieutenants slew three wolverines, and it took five gnomes together to take him down, and two did not survive the night from the wounds they took.  It was no skirmish.  This is war.  We were forced to kill every one of those men.  We did not like it, but if more come we are prepared to do it again.”

“So you say Mozek is dead?” Martin asked.

“Yes.”

“How many days ago was this?” Beorth asked, looking through his scraps of papers again.

“Three cul-dozens, about,” replied the Captain. (6)

“Ah-ha!” cried Beorth.  “We saw Mozek alive one or two days after that.”

“You did?” the captain was incredulous.

“Yes, he came and spoke to us about his mother and his brothers and Hurgun’s Maze and…and…” Jeremy scratched his chin.

“Let me explain,” said Martin, and he did just that. (7) 

“That is a queer tale,” Fistandlus said.  “I cannot accept that Mozek somehow staged his own death and if so, perhaps the whole attack?”

“Did you ever see him display any, let’s call it _demonic_ qualities?” Martin asked.

“Never. I heard the rumors, but I do not accept them to be true.”

“They are true,” Ratchis said, flatly.  “But it doesn’t matter, what matters now is that more solider will come.  There was at least one survivor, and as we speak news of this attack reaches the king.”

“Of course it does, he knew about it, they attacked us,” said Captain Fistandlus.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” said Kazrack.  “He would risk much to begin a war with you when he has such a dangerous foe to his southeast.”

“Who?” asked Jeremy.

“Menovia,” Ratchis replied for the dwarf and spat.

“Could they be involved?” asked Kazrack, his mind going new directions.

“There is no evidence of that or reason to even speculate it,” said Beorth.

“Except for the priest of Set, that kind of clinches it,” said Ratchis, sounding biting.

“It is interesting that Ephraim’s story and Fistandlus’ story do not match up,” said Martin.  “It is as if they were in two totally different fights.  One side thought it was fighting the other, but wasn’t, and now both sides prepare for war.”

“All you say may be true,” Captian Fistandilus said. “And my heart tells me to believe you, but it doesn’t matter anymore.  If the humans come they come to kill us and lay our hills flat.  We cannot allow that.”

“The war can be avoided,” said Martin.  “I must think of how to do it, but I will do all in my power to figure out a way.”

*End of Session #50*

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

*Notes*

(1)	Chance was killed by Mozek Steamwind as a demonstration of his seriousness in session #17.  Jana’s very essence was absorbed into the body of an extra-dimensional amorphous creature in session #35.

(2)	Briendel has a twin brother named Socher.

(3) Martin’s magic ring, _Lacan’s Demise_ sustains him without food or drink and he feels no hunger, but also makes it so he cannot enjoy food or drink if he does try to eat it. 

(4)	*DM’s Note:* In Aquerra games we try to use as little artificial language as possible when talking about “rule stuff” in game.  However, arcane spells are divided into various “houses” depending on the level they are.  Thus, a _fireball_ would be a spell of the 3rd House.

(5)	Beorth traveled there with the monks Maynard and Vander, meeting up with Master Hamfast.

(6)	A ‘cul-dozen’ is a gnomish term for a half-dozen, which merchants of other races have picked up in some places in Aquerra. 

(7)  See Session #39 for the vents Martin described here regarding Mozek Steamwind and Hurgun’s Maze.


----------



## handforged

Wow.  It should be interesting to see what the group does now that they have reunited with the gnomes.  It is obvious that there is a whole world interconnected here.  The conspiracy theories are becoming quite intricate.

I really liked the description of what happened to Martin when he took off his magical ring.  On another note, are the players of Jana/Derek and Jeremy specifically close?  Jana and Jeremy both had close relationships with Chance, and now Derek and Jeremy are good friends, I was just wondering about OOC stuff.

Once again, great story, the fact that there is so much more to read about makes me very anticipatory.

~hf


----------



## Manzanita

whew.  It is a complicated storyline.  I know the players themselves use a website to help keep track of it.  Nice.  I like it, of course.  I just hope we understand it all in the end.


----------



## el-remmen

For those of you who want a more frequent taste of "Out of the Frying Pan" be sure to check out the "Out of the Frying Pan" Repreise over at Nutkinland.

I am reposting the _entire_ stropy hour from the first session with one installment every other day or so.

I am only up to Session #4 so far, so you can catch up real quick.  I've been re-reading it too and trying to catch errors I missed the first time around and enjoying it if I do say so myself.

I makes me miss Jana horribley. 

Anyway, here is the link: http://www.nutkinland.com/showthread.php?t=5735


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## el-remmen

handforged said:
			
		

> On another note, are the players of Jana/Derek and Jeremy specifically close?  Jana and Jeremy both had close relationships with Chance, and now Derek and Jeremy are good friends, I was just wondering about OOC stuff.
> ~hf




They never met before this game and as far as I know the only time they ever hung out outside of gaming sessions was when we all as a group went to see the first two Lord of the Rings movies.

Derek and Jeremy became good friends because it would only make sense that the two youngest and most "carefree" of the characters would bond.


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## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> whew.  It is a complicated storyline.  I know the players themselves use a website to help keep track of it.  Nice.  I like it, of course.  I just hope we understand it all in the end.




Feh.

The players aren't using shizzit to keep track of it, the lazy bums - but they sure will whine and complain if they misremember something.    

I don't think it is all that complicated - feel free to ask questions and I will answer them to the best of my ability w/o giving anything away to the players.


----------



## el-remmen

*session #51 (part i)*

*Session #51*

“You see, it is all starting to make sense to me,” Martin added.

“Well, explain it to us, by all means,” Jeremy said sarcastically, and laughed.

Derek smiled, but Martin frowned and continued, “Briendel translated a lot of that marginalia in gnomish to me.”

“Maraga-whatzit?” Jeremy asked.

“The notes in gnomish in those books we found.  Remember I told you about the place of power?  Well, there was speculation in those notes that increasing ‘mortal fear’ and ‘chaos’ in the area between those four places of power will weaken the curtains between this world and the realm of shadow.  Someone who controlled that power could do a lot of things,” Martin’s pallid face suddenly seemed calm as he confidently explained what he had been able to learn from the complicated notes. 

“I don’t get it,” Jeremy said and Derek shrugged.

“Martin, I believe you need to be more explicit in your explanations,” Beorth said.

Ratchis cleared his throat and nodded.

“The plane of shadow exists in parallel to this world, and it does with all worlds.  It touches even the foundation of the heavens and the hellish realms of demons,” Martin said with some passion and then began to cough.  He sipped some tea and continued.  “If someone could control this connection to the shadow realm he could then summon things, foul things, and taint animals and monsters with the foulness of darker realms, like those wolverines that Mozek’s brothers had with them.”

The watch-mage turned to Captain Fistandilus and frowned, “And I am sad to have to tell you Captain but the notes in those books pretty much tell the tale of Mozek’s demonic parentage and that of his brothers.  Though it does not say how many there were.”

“Thirteen,” Captain Fistandilus replied, and then he let out a long slow breath.  “Though the seven that remained in Garvan were killed in the battle.”

“I think Hurgun’s Maze is the key,” Beorth suddenly said.  “We have learned it is a planar nexus, correct?”

Martin and Ratchis nodded, and then Kazrack followed suit. Jeremy shrugged, “That stuff makes my eyes glaze over.”

Derek laughed.

“No wonder everyone is so anxious to find out where it is and how to get in,” Beorth went on.  “It must be the key to controlling this anomaly, that is probably why Hurgun built it, or the entrance to it, in this area.”

“Seems reasonable,” said Kazrack.

“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.

“So all we need do is tell the King of Gothanius,” Kazrack.  “Explain to him that he is being manipulated.”

Beorth shook his head, “Kings and lords of men are often prideful.  I do not think he will as easily convinced as all that.”

“Anyway, he wants to expand Gothanius,” Derek piped in.  “He summoned the dragonhunters because he plans to bring Greenreed Valley into the kingdom, don’t you think he’s already considered what he may have to do to accomplish that?”

“His men destroyed the orcs that were near here,” Ratchis said.

“Gnomes are not orcs,” Belear said, and Ratchis grunted.

“And he cannot be totally unreasonable,” Kazrack said.  “He certainly cannot want to fight a war on two fronts.”

“Two fronts?” Jeremy asked.

“The Menovians,” Ratchis answered.  “They would use any sign of weakness or excuse to conquer Gothanius like they did Rhondria.”

The room was silent as everyone considered what was being shared and speculated upon.

Finally, Ratchis spoke, “Captain Fistandilus, would your people be willing to send a delegation of some kind to parley with the human king?”

“I don’t know,” the gnome replied. “And I don’t know that I trust this king of men or any of his representatives.”

“I could send word to the king so that he at least more fully understands the situation,” Martin proffered.

Derek rolled his eyes.

“I have to talk this all over with Hatzel, who is leader today, and then we will bring it before the elder’s council,” Captain Fistandilus explained.  “But I will tell you one thing, if such a negotiation were to occur we would want Martin present.”

“Huh? Me?” Martin was shocked.

“We trust you, Martin,” the Captain said.  “You have given us reason to, but the kings of men have given us reason not to trust them.  My people remember the Mountain Wars as well as Belear’s do.”

“We may be away at the Pit of Bones a long time,” Ratchis said.  “Martin may not be available for such a negotiation.”

Fistandilus shook his head.  “I’m afraid it will have to be Martin or no one.  He of all men I know would not let us agree to anything that was not fair, or if he thought there was some trickery in it.”

Ratchis sighed.

“You do me honor, Captain,” Martin stood and bowed, and then swaying, for he was still very weak, he fell back into his seat. 

Captain Fistandilus excused himself, as he had to return to duty and explained that he had to examine the new armor being made in smithy before turning in for the night.

After he had gone Beorth said, “You know, the gnomes may not let us leave.”

“What? Why would they do that?” Jeremy asked, shocked.

“They kept us here last time did they not?” Beorth stood and paced the room.  “Jana told me you were here for months.”

“Yes, but they let us go then, they’ll let us go now,” Ratchis said.  “They know we are trying to help them.”

“Do you think it would be wise for him to let us go so Martin can tell the king about the gnomes’ preparations for war?”  Do you think this will deter him? Or rather make him more cautious, make whatever war comes more protracted?  There are consequences no matter what actions we take.  We must choose wisely, but regardless of what we choose the number of souls Anubis must guard over will grow before this is all over.”

“No matter what, word must be sent to the Academy,” Martin said, weakly.  “It is this kind of potential abuse of power and threat to the free peoples of the world that the Academy was formed to stop.”

The watch-mage began to cough, his now frail body convulsing as he gasped for breath.  Beorth hurried over and kept him from falling, and soon after led the mage back to his room to rest more.

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

Days passed. 

Jeremy and Derek spent their time playing with the young gnomes, the wild and complicated games they often played.  Derek suspected they made up the rules on the spot, but Jeremy confirmed that what he had witnessed had seemed consistent, though the rules of a game could change depending on the day of the week, the color of the sunset or whether the number of players was a prime number.

“What’s a prime number?” Derek asked.

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders.

Martin spent his days recovering and going over the books and spells recovered from the Necropolis with Briendel.  They made a list of spells to tear from the books and have Beorth destroy as he has asked for them to do if they found any spells of black necromancy. (2)

They also discovered a lot more from the books and marginalia, like how the vampire Ratchis had beheaded was named _Zedarias_ and was a necromancer from the late portion of the Third Age and that he worshiped Rahkefet. (3)

It seemed he had been tricked by a powerful monkey-demon, infected with vampirism and trapped in that sarcophagus.  The notes even speculated that the vampire’s eternal pain in his undying thirst is what supported the seemingly insupportable chasm ceilings of the chambers below.   The monkey-demon was a servant of the same demon-lord that Mozek’s mother served.  And they learned her name was _Ora-amira-el_

The notes in gnomish had been made by Mozek’s father, a normal mortal gnome name Socher, who having discovered the Necropolis wanted its power and summoned the greater succubus.  But the notes were garbled and some of it seemed fractured or mad.  Some of it seemed to suggest that Socher had figured out a way to contact other planes and make deals with other infernal creatures and that he had made just such a deal to get rid of the succubus, but he still feared his own children.

Martin’s mind boggled at all this information about the netherworlds he was gaining.  The more he absorbed the more confused he felt he became trying to juggle and sculpt speculation and scenarios, trying to figure out the best way to explain it all to the others.

He spent his time cross-referencing between the notes and the illustrated guide to fiends he had found.  The Academy of Wizardry had taught him a great deal of general knowledge about so-called ‘outsiders’, but nothing had prepared him for such an intense immersion in the subject.  Put beside the lore of names and planes and summoning, the school of illusion seemed paltry to him.  And for the first time in his life he wondered if he might have been better off studying under the Master Summoner of the Academy.

Beorth spent his days in quite meditation and getting the final fittings for his splint mail armor.  It was beautifully crafted.

Kazrack spent his days alternately working in the forge or studying with Belear.  The dwarves gathered gear and supplies for the journey back to Abarrane-Abaruch.  They made their plans and got the blessing from Captain Fistandilus (who consulted with whomever was in charge that day) and soon it was the night before they were to leave.

Teflem, the 27th of Prem – 564 H.E.

Golnar, Jolnar and Tolnar were forbidden to go to the pub that night, as they were likely to get to drunk march out the next day.  They were glum about it. 

Captain Adalar was questioning Kazrack intensely about the fighting habits of quaggoths, and for whatever else might be known about the drow. (4)

Jeremy and Derek said quick good-byes to the dwarves, and then went to the pub as they usually did in the evening.  Ratchis sat quietly in the common room at Kazrack’s request, while different gnomes came in and out all night to bid the dwarves farewell.

Beorth spoke with Belear.

“Father Belear, I have been thinking long and hard about the dilemma with these peace-loving gnomes and the human king,” he said in his always-serious tone.  “I have prayed on it, and I have read over the notes I put together that serve as my memory.  I wanted to ask you if your people have a connection to…”

The paladin looked at his notes.

“The Nauglimir Dwarven Merchant Consortium?”

“Yes, most dwarven stronghold do,” Belear explained.  “It is the lifeline of trade between the vast majority of dwarves and even the towns of other races in Derome-Delem, and to some extent abroad.  Why?”

“I remembered Jana mentioning something about this dwarven consortium building a road to Gothanius.  The subject also came up when we were trying to decide if and to whom we might send messages about our predicament,” the paladin paused.

“And?”

“Expanding his kingdom is important to the King of Gothanius, but so is trade and so is his relationship with the NDMC.  Perhaps some pressure from them can accomplish what we cannot and force him to look for a peaceful resolution to this dispute.”

Belear nodded.  “You are very wise. They say the blind develop other senses and foresight to overcome their blindness.  So too have you gained something in having lost connection to your past self.”

“Do you think it will work?” Beorth asked.

“There is hope,” Belear replied.  “When I return to Abbarrane-Abaruch I will meet with a representative of the Consortium.  I will even send a letter to Mnormthord-Wyrmraugh if I must.” (5) 

The night ended with a small meal and a toast.

“We are in your debt,” Ratchis said, lifting his foaming mug of ale out, since he could not lift it up due to the low ceiling that caused him to slouch more than half the time he was inside.

“I more than any,” Kazrack added.

“We have only done what is right; what needed to be done,” Belear replied.  “I only wish that I could accompany you to this ‘Pit of Bones’.  It was once a might dwarven fortress, and there will wonders to behold there.”

“To safe journeys and quests fulfilled,” Kazrack said, lifting his mugs.  The dwarves and gnomes followed suit.

“Here! Here!” Jeremy and Derek yelled bursting drunkenly into the common area.

The next morning Martin gave Belear message to be sent via the Nauglimir Dwarven Merchant Consortium to watch-mages in Bountiful, Ettinos and the Far Shore League. Blodnath pulled Jeremy aside and gave him a set of thieves’ tools as a gift.

“Keep working on it, kid,” he said.  “Remember to be patient, and those locks will start unlocking themselves if you wait long enough.”

Jeremy thanked him and rushed to the room he and Derek shared to unroll the black cloth and examine the fine tools. 


Ralem, the 1tst of Sek – 564 H.E.

It was two nights later that Captain Fistandilus finally got back to them.  It was evening, and he came to share supper with the party and Distelbowden and he brought Ashkenbach, Briendel and Obenhammer along.

As was gnomish custom, the Captain did not discuss business he had with the Fearless Manticore Killers until after everyone had finished eating.

“In the past few days we have had many discussions,” the Captain began.  “We have agreed that you free to come and go as you will.  You are no longer our guests, but our cousins (6), and as such you shall be shown the way out and how to find the four hills without escort.”

“We are honored at your trust,” said Kazrack.

Ratchis nodded.

“You will have to take an oath beforehand that you will reveal it to no one,” the Captain said in a very serious voice.  “It is considered a grave crime to our people.”

“You can trust us,” Jeremy said, smiling.

“What of the delegation?” Beorth asked, dispensing with the pleasantries.

Fistandilus sighed, “We have not yet decided if we are going to recognize Gothanius as a sovereign nation to even be negotiated with.”

“What?” Jeremy dropped a spoon on the table.

“But recognized or no, you need to parley with any significant force,” Kazrack said, aghast. “Unless you want it to come to bloodshed.”

“I certainly do not,” the captain said, adamantly.  “But I must consider all options, and they say gnomes are like badgers it is dangerous to pull us from our holes.”

No one knew what to say.

“But,” the Captain continued.  “Martin could negotiate for us, that is use reason to convince this human king that sending his soldiers against us will do naught but kill more soldiers and bring an enemy into this world that neither one of us want to have to deal with.”

“Perhaps we should go see the King right away,” Martin suggested to the others. “And then go to the Pit of Bones.”

Kazrack shook his head.  “What if this king did not let us go?  He, too, may want you to advice him and negotiate for him.”

“Or think we are in league with his enemies if we come representing the gnomes,” Beorth added, delivering his gloomy assessments phlegmatically.

“We have to risk it,” Martin said, wide-eyed.  “I mean, I don’t know what else to do. If only I could get a message through to Alexandra or Barnstable or the Academy itself, then they would tell me what it is I ought to do.”

There was a long awkward pause and then they all agreed that they should make their way to Summit and then travel from there to Twelve Trolls and seek an audience with the King of Gothanius.

The next day was spent gathering supplies and bidding farewell to their gnomish friends and the morning after that found them climbing through the craterous valley to arrive at Summit.

Captain Fistandilus and a patrol of gnomish guards escorted them along the hidden path out of Gravan and to the now burned ruin of the traitors’ safehouse.  It was only a three-hour march. (7)

The shadows were long when then came atop the ridge and onto the streets of Summit.  It seemed eerily quiet.  The only sound was the wind whipping around the buildings.

They headed towards the Sun’s Summit Inn, and the square they saw a large pavilion tent pitched across from the town well.   Two lightly armored soldiers flanked the entrance, holding spears, and having shields on their backs.


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

(1)	The strange creature that only said “Haaaahnt!  Hooornt!” was first seen in Session #16.  It was speculated that it came from Hurgun’s Maze as that was the only part of its language the gnomes could interpret.

(2)	Necromancy comes in three varieties.  ‘Black Necromancy’ is powered by the negative material plane and regardless of the effect is always evil.  ‘Grey Necromancy’ can be used for good or evil, though they are generally considered a corruptive influence.  ‘White Necromancy’ channels positive energy and is considered innately good.

(3)	Rahkefet is the son of Set.  Known as the God of the Lost and the Astray, he is considered a lost of ‘forgotten’ power.  It is said that in _The Time Before_ he was pharaoh.

(4)	Abbarrane-Abaruch was assaulted by scores of quaggoth using great tactics and possessing great skills in battle.  It was for that reason that such a small force was all that could be afforded to fulfill the ancient pacts between their races and be sent to help the gnomes.  The Fearless Manticore Killers informed the dwarves that returning drow were behind the well-planned quaggoth attacks.

(5)	Mnornthord-Wyrmraugh (called ‘Rockmar’ by humans) is the headquarters of the Nauglimir Dwarven Merchant Consortium and the oldest existing dwarven city in Aquerra.

(6)	Gnomes consider all other gnomes their cousins, as they believe they are all related.

(7) When the party was first led here the gnomes blind-folded them and took them on a circuitous two-day trek.  (Session #15)


----------



## Manzanita

Wow.  Great update.  Makes me think it's time for a Rogue's Gallary update.  After all those zombies, surely some of the FMK have gone up a level.  & Martin's getting some Knowledge (necromancy)?  And Jeremy is taking a rogue level?  & what else?  I want to know!


----------



## el-remmen

*part 2 (of 3)*

*Session #51 (part ii)*

Osilem, 3rd of Sek – 565 H.E.

“The _King_ couldn’t have come _here_, could he?” There was shock in Martin’s voice as he stopped in his tracks across the way and examined the large tent.

“The King would not stay in a tent, I think,” Beorth said.

“Anyway, don’t you know anything, Martin?” Jeremy piped up.  “Kings have huge retinues and heavily armored guards, not just some light armored spearmen.”

The Neergaardian rolled his eyes and snickered.

“Let’s go see Maxel,” Martin said, ignoring Jeremy.  “He’ll know what’s going on, and I doubt the Alderman is back yet. (1)

Martin and Kazrack entered, while the others waited outside.

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

“What happened to you?” Maxel asked, wiping sweat from his brow.  The party could see he seemed to be hard at work.  There were scores of arrow and spearhead lined up on a table, and several suits of armor in various stages of being put together.  He seemed to be preparing to make swords as well.

Martin was puzzled by the question and then realized the smith/constable meant his new leaner and careworn visage.

“Magic,” Martin shrugged his shoulders by way of explanation.

“I hope you killed the evil wizard that did that to you,” Maxel said seriously, but with a smile.

“Ah, if only it were that easy, my dear sir,” Martin replied.  “But I am afraid I have not the time tell the tale, I am more concerned about the tent near the alderman’s house and the soldiers.”

“Gerard Prichett,” Maxel replied.  “He is the queen’s brother and the Royal Huntsman.  He has been sent by the king and the council of Alderman to collect the militia here.  Riders have been sent to all the alder-villages that fit men and what of the dragon-hunters did choose to help to come here and come under his command for the hunt for the vicious gnome menace.”

Martin sighed.

“Actually, he asked for you first thing when he arrived and seemed very concerned about where you were and was quite surprised you were not here coordinating the groups of dragon-hunters, or at least that is what he seemed to think you were supposed to be doing here.”

Martin sighed again.

“”I tried to explain to him that you have been busy and that you were very ‘hands on’, and the we hadn’t even really started in your house yet, though the foundation is set to be laid day after tomorrow, you may want to come by.”

“I thank you for your help,” Martin replied.  “I guess I should go talk to him then.”

“I would just be careful not to go with your friend Ratchis,” Maxel warned.  “He was a great slayer of orcs in the skirmishes and it is said he enjoyed it.”

Martin sighed.

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

Martin asked the rest of the Fearless Manticore Killers to wait and he approached the tent.  He introduced himself to a guard, who entered the tent and returned holding open the flap for the watch-mage to enter.

The rest of the group watched Martin enter the tent from across the square and around the corner of a large house.  

“We’ll watch from here,” said Ratchis.

“Why should we wait here?  Surely you don’t think Martin is in any physical danger?” Beorth asked.

“Because there is no way that evil creatures that look like people are actually half-demon spawn and have infiltrated the humans,” Ratchis replied with scathing sarcasm.  He had learned the nuances of languages by spending so much time with humans, but he still used it as a blunt instrument.

“But we have every indication that just might be the case!” Kazrack exclaimed, not getting it. (2)

Inside Martin found the tent to be rugged, but well-appointed.  

The Royal Huntsman, Gerard Pritchard, was a tall and broad-shouldered young, with golden brown tightly curled locks and well-trimmed beard.  He was very handsome, and his green eyes were very alert.

“Martin the Green, esteemed watch-mage of the Crown!” Gerard greeted him with respect and friendliness.  “It gladdens me to see you here at last.  I pray your duties have not called you too far a field and into too much danger?”

“More danger than I care recall, actually” Martin replied.  He felt at ease around this gregarious man immediately.  He was invited to sit.  Pritchard called for his squire to bring them wine.

“Well, I hope you can tell me something about these gnomes.  I was not shown the letter you sent the King about it, but I did learn through my own means that you did send one,” Gerard said, smiling.  

“These gnomes are a peace-loving people,” Martin replied, deciding the truth was the best option with this man.  “I believe that both they and the king are being manipulated to bring about a war.”

“Really?” Gerard did not seem surprised. He stood and took the huge skin his squire had brought in.  Beads of moisture hung to the outside of the finely crafted bladder, as the Huntsman lifted it, leaning it on his forearm and poured himself a mouthful.  He handed the heavy skin gently over to Martin, who grinning uncomfortably took a long sip himself.  He was glad he had not put the ring back on.  He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and did his best to explain.

Martin the Green told Gerard Pritchard as best he could about Mozek and how the gnomes of Garvan had been led to believe they were being attacked by a force just as horrific as the one the soldiers sent by the Crown has been decimated by. 

Gerard Pritchard was quite for a moment and then took another long swig from the wineskin.  

“So you are saying that evil gnomes born of a demon-woman are trying to manipulate good peace-loving gnomes and the Kingdom of Gothanius into a war?’ 

“I know it is hard to believe, but. . . “

“No, no.  I mean, it is far-fetched, but I think that if you were going to make something up you would not have made something up that is so bizarre.  In addition, the description of the gnome attack did not fit with what I know about gnomes.  Unlike a lot people in court, I have traveled some around Derome-Delem.  I have nothing against the free people of this island.” Gerard handed the skin back to Martin and scratched his beard.  “Now, what does this have to do with the dragon?”

“Nothing, so far as we know,” Martin said, deciding to keep the speculation that the gnomish ‘traitors’ were behind the dragon sightings all along.

“You know, I mentioned to king at dinner one night, soon after your group brought back that Manticore to be stuffed, that I thought perhaps the _dragon_ sightings were this Manticore all along,” Gerard said.  “The common folk tend to exaggerate in their stories, so it is not so far out of the question.”

“We had considered that,” Martin replied.

“Which mean the Fearless Manticore Killers have already completed the King’s quest,,” Gerard said with a smile and a wink, but Martin winced at the name.

“What’s the matter?”

“Oh, that name,” Martin replied.  “We were saddled with it, but none of us really like it.”

“I’m afraid you are stuck with it until you kill something bigger,” Gerard said, laughing.  He stood and called Martin over to a table where he had a map of the area unfurled.

“So these gnomes must live somewhere north of Greenreed Valley, right?  Can you point it out to me on the map?” He asked the watch-mage.

“Uh, actually I can’t really,” Martin quickly searched his mind for the smallest lie he could tell.  

The Royal Huntsman looked at him quizzically.

“You see the gnomes blindfolded us when they brought us to their village.  When we have gone to see them there is uh, a meeting place where they come to us and then guide us from there.”

“I see,” Gerard did not seem convinced. “Well, you know I will not be able to speak to the king on this matter and give him my counsel about the gnomes until I have parleyed with them.  The King has entrusted me as his eyes, ears and even hands in this situation and I would be remiss in my duty if I did not look into it myself.”

Martin opened mouth to speak, but Gerard continued. “And I can assure you I was going to go alone.  The last thing I want to do is bring a bunch of green militia in among a bunch of gnomes.  I have lived among the rangers of Archet.  I know how to handle myself in the woods and among other races.”

Martin sighed.

“Can you at least bring me to them?” Gerard tried again.

Martin shook his head.  “But my companions and I can return to them and ask permission, or else have them send a delegate to you.”

Gerard nodded.  “If it has to work that way I’ll respect it even if I don’t like it, but I don’t want a war, least of all one we’ve been tricked into, and we have a chance to stop it now before it goes any further and royal pride becomes involved.”

The huntsman cocked an eyebrow when he said that and looked Martin right in the eye.

“Yes, yes, of course,” stammered the watch-mage.  “I will go gather my companions and let them know and we’ll return to the gnomes on the morrow, for it is too late in the day to do so now.”

-----------

Ratchis didn’t think so and insisted the party return immediately.

“We didn’t even see Finn and those guys and have a drink,” Jeremy complained.

“You just saw them a few days ago,” Beorth said. “And we will be returning soon enough.”

However, Martin initial estimate was correct.  They had barely made the burned down safehouse before it was too dark to continue with much effect.

The Fearless Manticore Killers made camp there once again, and Martin sent Thomas off to retrieve the gnomes.

“Be careful,” Martin said.   “Watch out for owls.”

Thomas gulped and ran for it, leaping from tree to tree.


Osilem, 3rd of Sek – 565 H.E.

“The gnomes are coming! Hurrah! Hurrah!” Martin the Green singing in his head as his squirrel approached upon Ashkenbach’s shoulder.

The sun shone brightly, illuminating the tops of the tall trees of this forest and turning their budding leaves golden.  A bird called and another answered from across the forest.  The taste of spring was on the still frosty air.

Soon doughty gnome arrived with a dozen of his kinsmen and a pair of wolverines.

“Had you even left yet? Ashkenbach joked.

“We spoke with a representative of the King of Gothanius, a man responsible for the organizing of the militia,” Martin began to explain.

“So you came to warn us?”

“Yes,” said Jeremy and Ratchis.

Martin frowned. 

“There is nothing to warn you of that did not already know, but instead we bring an opportunity for peace,” Martin said.  “The king’s man is called Gerard Pritchard, and I think you would like him and he just wants to parley with you, so he can advise the king that war is not the way to handle this situation.”

“He wants to talk to me?  He doesn’t even know me!” Ashkenbach was confused.

“No, I meant, ‘you’ as in the gnomes of Garvan.”

Derek and Jeremy laughed.

Martin explained the huntsman was willing to speak to a representative of gnomes, if he could not be granted permission to come see the gnomes himself.

“This is awful hasty,” said Ashkenbach and the other gnomes nodded.  “We expected you to be gone at least a little while to allow us to make some plans and have a referendum about how best to handle the problem with the humans.”

“Humans are hasty folk,” Martin replied.  “And that is why you must not tarry too long in parleying, for they will look upon your hesitancy with suspicion.”

“Suspicion!   We haven’t done anything to be suspicious of!  They were the ones that sent soldiers near our home to begin with,” Ashkenbach grew angry, and Martin was startled.  He was not used to such a reaction from a gnome.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Martin said.  “I meant no offense.”

“Offense or no, you have a choice and an opportunity in front of you,” Ratchis said gruffly.

Ashkenbach sighed.

“I must return to Garvan,” he said.  “I must get the counsel of Captain Fistandilus and other elder gnomes of our community, but you can tell this general or whatever he is that we will send someone soon.”

“How soon?” Martin asked, nervously, remembering that gnome’s had a unique definition of ‘soon’.

“As soon as possible,” Ashkenbach rolled his eyes and smiled at same time.

“Hasty!” a gnome in the patrol chastised. 

Remembering his gnomish manners, Martin the Green invited Ashkenbach and the other gnomes to have lunch with them in the circle of trees before returning to Garvan. (3) 

The subject of how gnome and humans see time different came up during the meal.

“Why are humans always in such a rush to do everything?” Ashkenbach asked, almost rhetorically.

“I think it is because of their long legs,” Kusiel, one of the gnome patrol, said.  “They are used to getting everywhere fast so they think everything should be fast.  They probably complain that the wind doesn’t blow fast enough.”

The gnomes all laughed.

“Well, a human on a ship might think that,” Jeremy said, screwing up his face as if offended.

“Oooh, I’d love to see a ship,” said one of the other gnomes.

“How long do you live?” Ratchis asked Ashkenbach.

“How long do _I_ live?  Who knows that?  What am I, a seer?” Ashkenbach looked confused.

“No, he meant, how long does the average gnome live?” Kazrack explained.

“Hmmm… Well, we’d have to check the birth and death records of the council and then take into effect years with war or famine,” Ashkenbach scratched his wispy white beard, and tugged on it twice when thinking hard. “You know, that’d be fun to figure out, but kind of morbid.”

“Can you make a guess?” Ratchis asked, becoming annoyed.

“Hmm, maybe 350 winters,” the gnome replied.

”Humans live 60 winters, maybe a little more, sometimes less,” Kazrack said.  “It is for that reason that they are always in a hurry.”

“I’ll be lucky to reach 40 winters,” Ratchis said, shrugging.  “And I will be an old man by then.” (4)

“I promise to make sure you are buried properly when that time comes,” Beorth said.

“It may come a lot sooner,” Ratchis replied, gloomily.

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

The mid-afternoon found the Fearless Manticore Killers making their way back up the ridge to Summit once again.

 There Martin the Green told Gerard Pritchard that he should be expecting a visit from the gnomes soon and that they would likely come clandestinely for their own safety and from keeping the skittish locals from panicking.  He also tried his best to explain that gnomes sometimes took a long time to make up their minds and explored things from every angle, so he should try to be patient with them.

Pritchard agreed and shook Martin’s hand firmly thanking him.

“And where do you go now?” the Royal Huntsman asked.  “I will have to tell his majesty of your exploits and intentions when I next correspond with him.”

“We are going to the southwest to seek out information that will help us stop the demons I told you about in a long abandoned dwarven citadel,” Martin explained.

“It sounds like quite the adventure,” Gerard smiled.  “You and your companions are brave men, Martin the Green.”

Martin smiled weakly and said his good-byes.

The party spent the night at the Sun’s Summit Inn, having a meal with Finn and his crew and discussing what supplies they might need for their trip.  The gnomes had given them food and water, and they had replaced some clothing and Beorth had new armor, so they had wont for little.  They hoped the elves of Aze-Nuquerna would be able provide them whatever else they needed for their journey for they planned to stop there on their way south.


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

(1)	The alderman was called to court about the situation with the gnomes, as were all the aldermen of Gothanius.

(2)	Dwarven culture never developed sarcasm, and those dwarves who have come to recognize it despise it as a vice and a lie.

(3)	Traditional gnomish never considers a business deal or other contract fulfilled until the involved parties share a meal.  In addition, many gnomes refuse to do anything of substantial importance without sharing a meal the people involved first. 

(4)	Orcs are a short-lived race.  They reach full maturity by 12 or 13 and even if lucky enough to die of natural causes rarely make it past 30 or 35.  Half-orcs inherit their lack of longevity from their orc parentage, sometimes making it to 40 or 45.


----------



## el-remmen

*NEXT INSTALLMENT:  LESS TALK, MORE ACTION*


----------



## rigur

nemmerle said:
			
		

> *NEXT INSTALLMENT: LESS TALK, MORE ACTION*




Action is good. Excellent update by the way. It shall be very interesting to see how the political affairs of Gnomes and Humans develops.


----------



## el-remmen

Hey Loyal Readers!    

I stumbled upon THIS THREAD which is a more detailed account of the debate the FMK had while staying with the gnomes about what to next and who to send messages to.

The version in the story hour is obviously a trimmed down version of this debate - It makes for an interesting read.

---------------------------------------------------------------
Also,
I compiled a list of all the "adventures" the party has been on so I thought I'd post here and let you choose which one you liked best.

*Rite of Passage* - _A Goblin coming-of-age ceremony is uncovered_
*Janx's Jinx* - _The party helps an elven pilgrim cure her blink dog companion and destroy the plague of diseased wolves._
*Auld Lang Syne* - _An old mausoleum holds the secret to the plague of zombies near Stonebridge_
*The Castle Caper* - _The party foils Markle & Co.'s attempt to rob the king's treasury._
*Door To Darkness* - _Gnomish pranksters cause undesired mayhem at the Sun's Summit Inn_
*Rahasia* - _Seeking the aid of elves for the gnomes, the party finds they are the ones who have to do the aiding._
*Descent into the Honeycombe* - _A trip into the tunnels beneath Aze-Nuquerna to seek Richard the Red and the drow witch uncovers an assualt by quaggoths_
*The Circle of Thorns/The Beast From Beyond* - _The party seeks to fulfill the first two tasks needed to pay for Jeremy's return from Anubis' Realm_
*The Necropolis of Doom!* - _On their way to return to Garvan the party is side-tracked in a subterranean city of the dead._


----------



## Manzanita

"loyal readers" - that would be me.

I'm partial to the circle of thorns adventures.  I also found The Castle caper to be quite interesting.  I'm still hanging a bit on that one.  Was that Markel's whole deal?  To sign up as a dragon hunter just to rob the king?  It seemed they were so full of mystery on the trek in.  I still expect to see more of them.  Well developed NPCs those three, in any case.

How 'bout the rogue's gallary update, Nemmerle?  Hasn't anyone gone up a level?  (or down, in Kazrack's case!)


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> How 'bout the rogue's gallary update, Nemmerle?  Hasn't anyone gone up a level?  (or down, in Kazrack's case!)




Unfortunately, I don't keep records of people's stats at different levels - so the info about what skills and feats and the like they had at their current level in the story is lost to me.  I guess it could be re-constructed, but thats seems like too much work to me.

I will tell you that at this point the levels stand like this:

Kazrack - Fighter 3 / Priest 3
Ratchis - Ranger 3 / Priest 4
Martin - Illusionist 6
Jeremy - Fighter 7
Beorth - Paladin 6
Derek - Rogue 2 / Ranger 4


----------



## Jon Potter

nemmerle said:
			
		

> I compiled a list of all the "adventures" the party has been on so I thought I'd post here and let you choose which one you liked best.




There's not a bad one in the bunch!

It's hard not to vote for Rite of Passage since it marks the sad end for good ole Malcolm. 

Auld Lang Syne was a fun one. Sort of Necropolis-lite, actually.

Descent into the Honeycombe, The Circle of Thorns/The Beast From Beyond, and The Necropolis of Doom are all great for the same reason, IMO; the party seemed consitently on the brink of being hopelessly out-of-their-depth. It made for a tremendous read!

According to the trend in my choices, the next adventure should be even better than these.


----------



## handforged

nemm,

could you repost the link to the witch class?  I am thinking of including it in my homebrew.  Also congrats on the IRON DM archive site.  When you get the ingredients page up it would be neat if there were a script that would randomly create a set of ingredients from the list.

I can't wait to see what happens with the Royal Huntsman.  He seems to good to be true in the RatBastardy world of Aquerra.  Even the most helpful folks we have found so far (the demi-human races) have their own drawbacks.

~hf


----------



## Manzanita

Gosh, I love the rogue gallary entries.  What does this foretell?  Are we to get any more rogue's gallary updates?


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Gosh, I love the rogue gallary entries.  What does this foretell?  Are we to get any more rogue's gallary updates?




I said, no. 

Well, unlikely anyway. . . 

Sorry. . .


----------



## el-remmen

*End of Session #51*

*Session #51 (part iii)*


Balem, the 5th of Sek – 565 H.E.

The Fearless Manticore Killers reached the elven enclave by mid-morning.  They waved to the sentries atop the squat, covered towers of lacquered logs that stood with the rest of the huge structure atop a foundation of gray carefully cut weathered stone blocks.

Ethiel met them at the gate, and greeted them without smiling.  He led them to parlor to wait, and an hour later returned with two other familiar elves.  They bowed and brought in a lunch of light airy bread with a taste of lemon with slices of squash marinated in buttermilk and spices.  

Over the meal the party shared news with their elven host, telling him of the Necropolis, Mozek’s claims, and about the Circle of Thorns and Jana’s death.

Ethiel nodded solemnly, and shared his own news.

“Arion has left less than a fortnight ago to a forested valley west of here, where Tirhas Tesfey was spotted,” he said. (1)

“Tirhas was spotted?” Jeremy nearly leaped out of his seat upon hearing the elf maid’s name, he had been licking the spicy strawberry sauce from his fingers, from where it had dripped from a slice of pear smeared with a soft white cheese.

“Who?” Derek looked at his friend.

“I’ll explain later,” Jeremy said quietly when Ratchis threw him a dirty look for interrupting Ethiel. The elf was did not seem to care.

“Yes, some woodsmen of Archet went hunting that way and the rumor is among them of an elf woman and strange spirits in the wood,” Ethiel explained.  “The place is the site of a battle that happened long ago to the counting of _your_ races.”

Kazrack grunted disapprovingly, but again Ethiel did not seem to notice or perhaps care.  

“There was an orcish fortress there, at the time when the blood of the One-Eye was still strong in that broken race.” (2)

Now it was Ratchis’ turn to grunt.

“We should go help find her,” said Jeremy, eagerly.

“We are going to the Pit of Bones,” replied Beorth, flatly.

“Is it on the way?” Jeremy tried again.

“No,” Martin replied.

“I want to save her, too Jeremy,” Ratchis said as gently as the orcish brute could make his voice sound.  “But the bare-faced truth that finding Hurgun’s Maze and stopping Mozeks has a priority over that.  It is more pressing and more dire.”

Ethiel nodded solemnly, ‘Arion is well-trained for her retrieval, though if it were not for the wedding I could have sent a detachment of elven archers with both him and you, to give aid in your quests.” (3)


Teflem, the 6th of Sek – 565 H.E.

The next day found the Fearless Manticore Killers marching further south than they had been during their whole time in and around Gothanius.  Down here the forests were small tight clumps of trees separated by narrow fields of tall crabby grass that swelled and gave way like the sea in a slow-coming storm. 

	Ahead and to the right they could see brown hills dotted with green rising out of the earth, and not soon after stopping for lunch they found themselves walking through stony eroded hills, that created tall gullies.   

“This is a good place for an ambush,” commented Ratchis.

“Don’t worry, no one know we are coming down here, except the gnomes and the elves,” Kazrack replied.

“And whomever is scrying on us,’ Martin said with his usual pessimism.

“Just stay extra alert,” Ratchis said, moving ahead to take point.

But less than an hour later Beorth leaned over to Kazrack and said, “Do you see that?” The paladin pointed off to the right, just behind a low outcropping of igneous rock that had hardened in the shape of a long claw from the gully wall that flanked them.  “It looks like someone is hiding behind there…”

“And not very well,” Kazrack added, seeing the small figure. The dwarf called out to Ratchis and pointed.

The half-orc spun around surprised for he had walked right past it not seeing, but he saw it now.

“It is a gnome!” he called out.

Ratchis held up ah and to make the others wait and he crawled quickly towards the diminutive figure, just out of its sight.  He hopped up quickly, holding a javelin in one hand to throw it quickly if it turned out to be Mozek or one of his brothers, but what he saw was even more surprising. 

The gnome had not moved; not one inch.  He stepped closer and could now see it was not a gnome at all, but a statue of one.  It seemed to have been carved with great skill and detail and was in a position as if jogging, one hand pointed in the air, a warhammer in the other.  The mail was incredibly detailed, every link perfectly carved, and even the subtle bulge where it was bunched up from running.

Ratchis signaled for the others to come closer, “But not too close I am looking for tracks.”

“Wow, that is amazing craft,” Kazrack said, seeing the statue.  “A dwarf must have made it.”

“Why would a dwarf make a statue of gnome out in the middle of nowhere and then just leave it there?” Martin asked.

“Maybe it is a marker of some kind,” Derek conjectured.

“No, I think it is real,” Martin replied.  “I mean, I think it was once a living gnome and has had a spell cast on it.”

“What? No.  It’s a signpost of some kind,” Jeremy said, agreeing with Derek.  “There is probably some other gnome village around here.”

“There were no statues of this kind in Garvan,’ Martin explained.  ‘From what I learned of gnomish culture while there, I do not think this is what you claim it is.” 

Ratchis came back from searching for tracks.  

“Several gnomes were around here perhaps three or four days ago,” Ratchis said.  “There is a small cave or tunnel going into this rock wall behind us, it seems this one came running from there.  There are also some kind of flightless bird tracks.”

“What kind of bird?” Beorth asked.

“Something with a heavy tail that is not feathered,” Ratchis said, shrugging his shoulder.  “Perhaps the size of a wild turkey, slightly larger.”

“So what do we do now?” Derek asked.

“We go search the cave,” Ratchis said, turning and heading towards it.

“Too bad it is too early to find a place to rest,” Kazrack said.  “A cave would be nice.”

Derek looked at the dwarf as if he were insane.

Ratchis entered first, followed by Kazrack and then Beorth.  Jeremy took up the rear, with Martin before him and Derek behind the paladin.

The cave had a low ceiling, so Kazrack squeezed ahead of the towering half-orc, who had to squat low to make it through.  All the humans had to lower their heads to one extent or another, though Derek, being the shortest of them, only barely so.

“More bird tracks,” Ratchis whispered.

“There is light from up ahead,’ Kazrack said, moving forward.  The cave turned to the left and the dwarf could see that the cave was really a small tunnel that cut through the igneous rock and to an open area encircled by the gully walls.

The dwarf turned to Ratchis, who was trying to squeeze past him to leave the cave first and explore the area beyond.  “Are we trying to catch this bird for our evening meal?  If not, perhaps we should leave and not get sidetracked with this.”

Ratchis grunted, “We are still looking for a group of gnomes to learn the fate of gnome chieftain who originally left seeking the elves’ help, remember?  This could be a clue.”

“Or fool’s gold,” Karack said., shrugging.  (4) He scratched his beard, and let Ratchis past.

Just beyond the cave opening was green field of cut grass, interspersed by clumps of half-buried reddish stones that ranged in height from a foot or two to six or more.  These stones, along with two large clumps of trees near the center of the field obscured vision of the far wall.


“What place is this?” Beorth asked as he came into the tiny valley behind Ratchis and Kazrack.  The half-orc moved around some stone and could see what was a well-tended garden off to the right. 

“Here’s another one,” Kazrack called.  He had found another stone gnome behind one of the tall stones, looking as if it had been squatting and peaking out from behind it.  This one was female, and the stitches of her studded leather armor were so perfectly dimpled Kazrack began to consider Martin’s hypothesis as more likely.

“Bwock Greeeeet!”  There was a severe bird-like squawk above them and behind on the ridge wall.

“Well, maybe we _will_ be having fowl for dinner,” Kazrack said, hungrily.

“Do you hear that?” Ratchis turned to the others, and gestured for them to hurry and take positions, while he looked up and around to get sight of the bird.

“Skraaaaw, Greeeet!” the bird creature said hopped up on a rock from behind it.  It had dirty golden feet, but a body like a long and sinewy great big turkey, with a gray giblet and patches of mangy looking brown and magenta feathers on its brown and red mottled and dimpled skin.  It dragged a long heavy tail behind it, that was bereft of feathers, but instead had a lizard-like hide covering it.  The bird’s eye was open wide, and its head turned to look down at Ratchis, its head jerking nervously, as it took in the entire scene.

“It is only a bird,” Kazrack laughed.

“Quiet, if you want to have it for dinner,” Ratchis was reaching for his bow on his back, when the thing hopped up again and  flapping its stubby nearly featherless wings to slow its decent swooped down pecking at the half-orc viciously.

“Brawnt! Greeet!”

Ratchis side-stepped out of the way, dropping his bow and going for his warhammer.

Derek came rushing out from the safety of the mouth of the cave and brought his battle axe down at the thing, but it screeched again and hopped backward.  The axe grazed the fowl with an ineffective blow, but Derek felt his arm shake as if he had hit something harder.

“It feels like stone!” he complained, leaping back to avoid the viscous-looking beak.  Kazrack hurried forward to support the young woodsman, while Jeremy looked for a flanking position. The Neergaardian noted yet another gnome statue as he came around a squat stone.

“What’s going on?” Martin the Green asked with some nervousness in his voice.  He craned his head to look out from the cave entrance where he hid.

“Derek!  There is another!” Kazrack cried out as he turned seeing another of the monstrous birds hop out from behind a rock.  He barely was able to fend off an attack of its beak with his halberd, shoving the haft in the bird’s face.

It jerked its head around to get a good view and squawked.

The first bird seemed distracted by the presence of new targets and the arrival of another of its kind.  It swung its head to gain a better view with its vacant eyes on either side of its head, and Ratchis did not hesiste. He slammed it in the head with his warhammer, and it cried out shrilly in pain and confusion. It pecked him while hopping backward out of reach.  Its beak was bloody, and a bunch of feathers were flying about where it had been. 

Ratchis grunted as the sharp beak scratched his arm deeply.  He looked at the wound for half a second and see it was not as deep as it might have been, but the wound tingled for a moment, and he felt his arm begin to stiffen a bit.  He flicked his arm vigorously and the sensation went away.

“These are poisonous beasts!” the half-orc warned his companions.

Derek didn’t need to hear more.  He chopped ferociously into the bird that had leapt down at him and Kazrack., and gritted his teeth as the shockwave of the blow came up his arms.  The bird cried out weakly, and black blood spurted out from the slash in its side.

By nowMartin had emerged from the cave and seeing the second beast cried, _Lentus!_ and the jerking of the thing’s head and defensive flapping of wings and ruffling of feathers slowed down.

Kazrack thrust his halberd into is neck, and whipping it back out pf the dying bird’s corpse, hustled over to aid Ratchis.

Martin and Derek decided to go the other way around the tallest stones as Jeremy had.  The blonde warrior came around and shoved _the Right Blade of Arofel_ deep into the first bird-beast, and it shrieked again.   But as the watch-mage and the ranger made their way around the earth suddenly shook, and pebbles and dust went flying between the larger stones where the fight was happening.  

_Boom_, there it was again.

They looked and saw a great figure emerge from beyond the two clumps of trees.  It was a humanoid nearly twice as tall as Ratchis, broad-shouldered, with gray stony skin, and no hair, and a chiseled profile.  It wore a kilt of wolf hides and leather, and had a strap of fur over one shoulder and decorated with stones.  At its side was a pouch the size of a huge sack.  It bulged and bounced against his thigh as he ran towards the where the party was.  With each step the ground shook, and its steel gray eyes scanned the melee.

Ratchis finished off the remaining bird-beast with two heavy slams of his hammer.  It had tried to get away from Jeremy and had come right back into his range.

“What’s happening to my chickens!!?” the giant hollered angrily in a deep deep voice.  Derek could see that the giant held a huge stone club in his left hand, and he hefted it to his shoulder. 

“Who is that?” Ratchis whirled around to see, but Beorth had already seen and crying out to Anubis to grant him _divine favor_ went hustling to the huge figure with sword at the ready.

Derek hung his axe on his belt and calmly pulled out his bow and prepared to pepper the giant with arrows.

Martin climbed up on a stone behind Derek and pointing at the giant, chanted “_Sagitta Igneum_!” and a great arrow of fire came flying from his hand and roared as it flew towards the giant, exploding into a ring of flame as it hit.

Kazrack cried out, filled with the fury of battle and hustled after Beorth towards the giant.

“What are you doing?” Jeremy cried after them.  “Run!  The _other_ way!”

The giant stopped and spied Kazrack headed towards him.  He cocked his head back in the direction that he came from while reaching into his sack to pull out a rock nearly 13 inches in  diameter.  

“Perika!” He cried.  “We got ‘venturers killing our chickens!!”  He flicked the rock with his right hand, and it slammed into Kazrack’s left arm.  The dwarf spun around and fell.  Groaning, he tried to get up, but found his arm was numb and useless.  It felt rubbery and covered in pins and needles.

“Nephthys, grant me your strength so that I may protect my friends,” Ratchis called to his goddess, and felt strength surge though him.  He moved towards to close the gap between him and the giant.

Meanwhile, Derek was having a hard time piercing the giant’s hide and Martin spoke a word and suddenly there were four of him dancing atop the rock, blurring in and out of each other and mimicking each other’s movements.

Kazrack finally made it to his feet, leaving his halberd on the ground and grabbing for his flail.  At that same moment, Beorth and the giant met.

“What are you all doing?  Do you want to die?  That’s a giant!” Jeremy simply stood and yelled at his companions.

The giant was able to reach Beorth wit his club before the paladin’s blade could reach him.  There were two resounding blows and the crunch of metal and Beorth was down on the ground, holding his sword before him and trying to drag himself away and to his feet.

Ratchis moved in to cover Beorth’s retreat and the paladin laid hand on himself and called on his god to close his nearly mortal wounds.

“I think this has been a misunderstanding!” Ratchis called up to the giant, raising one hand up at him.  

“Ratchis!  There’s another one,” Jeremy warned.  And sure enough, they saw the head and shoulders of another giant appear above the treeline all the way on the other side of this enclosed area.  They could tell this giant was female by the swell of her breasts, but she too was hairless and stony.

Derek tumbled trough the giant’s legs, and tried to take a swipe with his axe as he did, but it leapt up deftly avoid the attack, but was off-balance when trying to keep Kazrack away from him, batting at the dwarf with his club.  Kazrack ducked in and moved to flank the thing.  Distracted by so many foes, the giant was unable to keep Jeremy from slipping under his reach and stabbing him.   

Jeremy grimaced as he felt the tough hide try to resist his blow, but gray-black blood oozed from the wound.

But the giant only grunted and spun around his club stretched downward.  Jeremy ducked, but Derek caught the club in the shoulder and was knocked down.  

“Ho! Ho!” the giant called out happy about striking the little man, but his joy was pre-mature and laughter turned into a cry of pain as Ratchis slammed the huge figure’s kneecap with his hammer.

Martin spoke the word, _Lentus!_ again and this time it was the giant’s turn to have his movement and reactions _slowed_ to half his normal pace.

Beorth was on his feet and took a place in the ring about the giant as well, but the club came down and parried the blow.

However, the giant was now not moving fast enough to deal with the wolfpack tactics of the Fearless Manticore Killers, and Derek was on his feet shaking off the pain and hacking into the giant’s hip with his axe.  The stony skin was hard to break through, and blows that would have killed a man, only made narrow cuts in the giant.

Martin remained outside of the melee, certain that even one blow would crush him like a bug.  Instead he cast _shield_, and kept an eye on the other giant which had disappeared in the trees while approaching.

Kazrack and Jeremy both rained blows on the flailing giant.  It struck out frantically and struck Beorth with the end of the club in the face.  The paladin went down again, but immediate scrambled to his feet as a blow from Ratchis distracted the giant once again.

“Why are you doing this?” the giant asked, sounding as confused as he was angry. (5)


*End of Session #51* 

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

(1)	Remember, it was discovered that Tirhas had been possessed by one of the drow witches’ spirits.

(2)	According to legend, Ashronk One-Eye, god of the orcs spit his blood across his people and those it landed upon grew in strength and cunning.

(3)	The king of Tempestas, the isle of elves, is marrying the Queen of the Sylvan Elves to mend a thousands year old schism.  The wedding is to happen sometime this elven stellar year and elves from all over Aquerra are traveling for the associated parties and games, which had already started last solar year.  An elven stellar year varies in length according to elvish astronomical theory, ranging from as little as four and a half years to as many as 17.

(4)	_Fool’s Gold_ is the dwarven equivalent of the expression ‘red herring’.

(5) This adventure is based on the adventure _Flesh to Stone_ from Dungeon issue #85.  (Damn!  They sure don’t know how to name adventures in Dungeon Magazine anymore.


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

nemmerle said:
			
		

> Hey Loyal Readers!
> 
> ---------------------------------------------------------------
> Also,
> I compiled a list of all the "adventures" the party has been on so I thought I'd post here and let you choose which one you liked best.
> 
> *Rite of Passage* - _A Goblin coming-of-age ceremony is uncovered_
> *Janx's Jinx* - _The party helps an elven pilgrim cure her blink dog companion and destroy the plague of diseased wolves._
> *Auld Lang Syne* - _An old mausoleum holds the secret to the plague of zombies near Stonebridge_
> *The Castle Caper* - _The party foils Markle & Co.'s attempt to rob the king's treasury._
> *Door To Darkness* - _Gnomish pranksters cause undesired mayhem at the Sun's Summit Inn_
> *Rahasia* - _Seeking the aid of elves for the gnomes, the party finds they are the ones who have to do the aiding._
> *Descent into the Honeycombe* - _A trip into the tunnels beneath Aze-Nuquerna to seek Richard the Red and the drow witch uncovers an assualt by quaggoths_
> *The Circle of Thorns/The Beast From Beyond* - _The party seeks to fulfill the first two tasks needed to pay for Jeremy's return from Anubis' Realm_
> *The Necropolis of Doom!* - _On their way to return to Garvan the party is side-tracked in a subterranean city of the dead._




Personally, the touch of lightheartedness in Janx's Jinx,
Creepy Auld Lang Syne
NPC interactions & character depth in Castle Caper
Ethical dilemma's in Circle of Thorns (and poor jana!)
the climactic escape from the Necropolis

are what have stuck in my memory the most. Not that I haven't enjoyed any of them 
I also thought your writing style developed the most throughout Necropolis.

Keep up the good work!


----------



## handforged

This is great!

I am totally stoked to see the FMK's in a different environment.  Every time a new adventure begins, I get a totally new location to imagine and your descriptions make it quite a wonderful thing.  I love the 'chickens' and their masters.  It seems like a great adventure.  Did the players enjoy playing it?

I don't mean to be pesky, but any chance of getting access to the witch class?

Thanks for the update

~hf

edit: to answer the survey, I particularly enjoyed Janx's Jinx as an entire adventure (partially because of the introduction of Ratchis), but I think that my overall favorite encounter is the forging of the scythe.


----------



## el-remmen

handforged said:
			
		

> This is great!
> 
> I don't mean to be pesky, but any chance of getting access to the witch class?




I actually just recently began to redo the witch class after loooking through my play-testing notes from what I gathered from Jana being played, and from discussions with the player and the other members of the group.

I am pretty much done redoing it, but have not put together thre spell lists for the class yet.  (There are four individual lists a witch may choose spells from depending on what kind of creature she is summoning to teach her (broken into four categories: celestial, fiendish, elemental and daemonic).

I'll see what I can do about getting you a copy of what I have so far.   Got your email listed in your profile?


----------



## handforged

I just realized that I didn't change my email back to my school address when I got back.  It should be correct now.  Or, bcp0424 at mail.ecu.edu.  I'd really appreciate to see your notes even.

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

*part 1 (of 2)*

*Session #52*

“Get out of here!” Jeremy cried to his companions, when the giant block yet another blow from Derek. “I’ll slow him down.”

Kazrack got feeling back in his arm and swinging his flail in front of him, he grabbed his shield off his back and turning deftly as to not present a target put it into position.

The giant turned toward the dwarf and Jeremy found the opening.  The point of the Right Blade of Arofel did not pierce the hide, but he whipped his long sword with great vicious across its thigh twice.  The giant bellowed and lowered the club towards Jeremy, who leap away.  The mighty blw slammed into Beorth instead.  The paladin’s helmet crunched as the club struck it, and he fell down and slid painfully across the grass, blood blooming from a deep gash across his brow.   However, that was not all.  Kazrack had expected a blow from the other direction and did not see the blow come over his shield having lost no momentum from the collapsing Ghost-hunter and his head was suddenly ringing with pain.  The dwarf staggered to his right, but amazingly did not fall.

The club continued to swing around and Ratchis barely pulled back, his blows going out of alignment.   

Derek thought he saw an opening and had his axe above his head when there was  a surprising shadow over him, he was shocked as something struck his axe and then slammed into his head.  He barely kept his feet and looked up to see the second giant appear at the further clump of trees, hefting a rock in her other hand.

“Fall back to the trees,’ Kazrack said, thinking the closer clump would give them cover from the giants’ rocks and blows. 

Martin was tracing a multi-colored pattern before himself as he faced the male giant from atop his rock.  So far, it seemed to be of no effect.    He had to throw himself down atop the rock to avoid a rock that came flying at him from the giant-wife.

“WHY DON’T YOU LEAVE US ALONE!!??!!” The giant-wife half-asked, half-commanded.  Her voice, while low was still a screech of hysteria. 

“Someone grab Beorth!” Jeremy cried frantically, working his blades in a frenzy of parries and thrusts trying to keep the slowed, but no less strong, giant occupied.  He could see the blow flowing readily from his vantage point.  

Beorth was dying.

The Neergaardian stepped forward feign a thrust with long sword and his foot landed on a muddy spot in the grass where the giants’ great and stony feet had torn up the grass.  He fell painfully to his rear-end, jarring his backbone.  

The giant turned from the fallen warrior towards those that still posed an immediate threat.  Kazrack’s shield crunched and slammed back into the dwarf’s face when the giant whipped his clun across the front of his face and chest.  The dwarf went flying back and landed with his shield over his face.  Blood flowed out from underneath and into the grass.

The violence of the blow shocked Ratchis and he did not have time to react before he felt the club slam into his hip, taking him off his feet.  He landed painfully on his side.  But Ratchis did not hesitate, he  rolled over on his stomach and pushed himself to his feet, using his moment to strike the giant with a powerful blow to the chest.

Wheezing, the giant teetered for half a moment and then fell over; a wash of gray-black blood splattering down from his many wounds.  Jeremy barely rolled out of  the way and up to his feet.

“RUMMMMBULLL!” the giant-wife cried in horror and dismay.  Her face seemed to harden into a snarl as she looked at each of the standing members of the Fearless Manticore Killers in the eye.

“Wow, she’s pissed,” Derek said under his breath, as he hung his axe on his back and took up his bow again, fitting an arrow to it, calmly. 

Martin thought quickly as he saw the giant woman begin to clear the trees.  

“_Imago Majorca_!” he cried, and around the giantess erupted a ring of fire 10 feet high.  She cried out and put her hands to her face and hesitated, looking around for an escape.  She could feel the heat pouring off the flames.

“We didn’t want this fight,” Martin called out to her.  “Leave us be and we’ll spare your husband!”

“Somebody help Beorth and Kazrack!” Jeremy said, turning to hold the line if the giantess were to approach. He held his swords up and ready.

Derek stepped over to look the dying giant.  Blood flowed steadily from him, creating a thick black pool around his huge crumpled form.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!  GET AWAY FROM HIM!!” the giantess shrieked and covering her face with her arms leapt through the illusory fire hoping her stone like skin would protect her some.

Ratchis squat down between the giant and Beorth, and reaching over to the bleeding paladin beseeched Nephthys to grant him her healing graces.  Beorth’s wounds closed. 

Derek tried to fire an arrow, but was smashed by the giantess’ last boulder.  The young ranger collapsed in a bloody heap.

“I said, move away from him!” she cried, her hurried steps shook the ground, Martin leapt off his rock and ducked behind it.

Jeremy sheathed his blades and made broad motions with his arms trying to get her attention.  She looked over hurried.  She now stood above Derek, her own club hanging above his bleeding head.  She looked around confused and scared.

“Let us take care of our friends and you can take care of your husband or whatever,” Jeremy called up to her.  “Look!  I put away my weapons.”

Sweat poured off his brow, as he stole a glance over at Derek’s crumpled form below the looming giant.

“Back away from Rumble,” she commanded Ratchis, pointing to the stone giant on the ground. 

“If you don’t let us take care of our friends your husband is going to die. _You_ back up,” Ratchis retorted.  He held his hammer above the bleeding giant’s face.

The giantess looked down at her bleeding husband, and tears welled up beneath her pupil-less steel-gray eyes.  

“Have at your companions,” she said, and got down beside her husband to tend to his wounds, leaving herself open to a blow from Ratchis.  She pulled furs from a bag on her back and began to tie off his wounds.

Ratchis hurried over to Kazrack and healed him with a spell.  The dwarf began to cough and his eyes fluttered.

“I think this fight is over,” Martin said, gaining confidence with every word as if he were trying to convince himself.  He walked out from behind the stone.

“Jeremy, you get Beorth.  He can be moved,” Ratchis barked.  Kazrack sat up and shook his head.

The giantess held her husband’s head in her lap and was holding him close.  She looked up at them, her face growing rigid with anger again, “You owe us for our chickens!”

“Whu-what?” Jeremy’s jaw dropped, as he made to grab Beorth by the shoulders to drag him off.

“You killed our chickens!” she accused.

“What about the gnomes your chickens killed?” Martin spit back, forgetting himself for a second.  All the death he had witnessed in less than a year’s time weighed heavy on his green shoulder when he allowed himself to think on it.

“Your _chickens_ attacked us, and the little ones are our friends.  _We_ want to know what happened,” Ratchis asked her, as examined Derek after having stabilized him with a spell.

“If they hadn’t come into our home uninvited and set them free they would not have been attacked, and the hole in coop would not have been there for them to have escaped once again and attack you when _you_ came here _uninvited_.  The gnomes decorate my garden now.”  Her disgust was for them was apparent.

Rumble coughed and a bubble of blood burst at his lips.  Perika wiped it away with the hem of her fur and leather dress.

Kazrack grumbled and then offered to heal the giant.  “That will be payment enough!”

“Payment enough!?!  You were the ones who attacked him, and now we should owe you for that?” Perika sneered.  

“What would you have us pay you with? We have nothing to give you that you could use, I’m sure,” said Martin, calming down.

Kazrack grumbled about his dishonorable it was to trade with giants. (1)

“We will take coin,” the giantess said, looking up.  “We trade with the woodsmen north of here, and can use the coin to buy goods and supplies we cannot make or find ourselves.”

Ratchis stood and sighed, wiping his hands on his greaves.

He walked over to the two giants. “May I?”

Perika nodded, and the half-orc lay his hand on the giant and spoke to Nephthys, recalling pieces of the tale of Bronthro, the stone giant who had been won over to serve Fallon, goddess of healing.

Rumble took a deep breath and moved his great head back and forth, but did not wake.  Admonishing the party to stay where they were while she carried Rumble away to their cave.  

“I’ll not pay for those chickens!” Kazrack sputtered, his anger rising.

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders, “I have some coin.”

“I am not paying for…”

“Kazrack, we have to,” Ratchis acquiesced.  

“These filth frokkin’ giants!” Kazrack spit and wrung his beard in his hands.  His face became flush.

“Ratchis is right,’ Martin said, walking over. “We need to negotiate with her, since violence is out of the question.  We may be able to get the gnomes away from here.”

“What? How?” Kazrack asked, but Ratchis hushed him, for the giantess was returning.

“300 pieces of silver per chicken will be adequate,” Perika told them.  She had washed her face with water, but her eyelids were so puffy they looked like a jagged piece of coral.

Kazrack tried to speak, but could only make a “Pfa-Pfa” sound, over and over again.

“We have no where near that much money,” Martin exclaimed, and the rest of the group glared at him.

“Wait… For each _chicken_?” Jeremy was stunned.

“That is what ‘each’ usually means,” Ratchis scowled.

“Why are these birds so valuable?” Martin asked.

“They provide us with eggs, which we use and also trade with the hunters,” Perika explained. (2) 


The four conscious members of the Fearless Manticore Killers huddled up and gathered their money.  In the end, they offered her 14 pieces of gold and a ruby.  She examined the ruby closely, but accepted the offer.

“Now that we’ve gotten that taken care of,” Jeremy said, smiling.  “I wanted to ask, since the gnomes got stoned by your chickens, can you cure them?”

Perika looked at him slyly.  “There are cures.  But why would I want to do that?  They decorate my garden and they only got what they deserved.  The little sneak-thieves stole into here and let the chickens free and tried to take stuff without asking.  Do they not kill men for that among your people, blood of orc?”

“Watch your tongue!” Kazrack admonished.

“Uh, but Kazrack, it’s true,” Jeremy looked at the dwarf like he was touched, and wished Derek were awake to share in their game of catching Kazrack at being Kazrack-like.

“You are aware of the great reputation o gnomes as generous of spirit,” Martin tried a different tact.

“No,” Perika replied shortly.

“Well, they are.”

“Gnomes are like gnats or other insects,” Perika sneered.  “If they get in the food stores you have to stomp them out, and they look so lovely among the tomato plants, and one as a warning by that littlest of holes as a warning to other little things that might come crawling through.”

“The ‘warning’ had an opposite effect,” Martin replied.  “It is what drew us here.”

Perika huffed. She still had her club resting on her shoulder. 

“The gnomes are our friends,” Martin continued.  “If you freed even one he could go to his people and get recompense for whatever inadvertent damage they have done _and_ bring something to decorate your garden.”

A constant grumbling stream of incomprehensible sounds came shooting from Kazrack’s  tightly closed lips.  He was visibly shaking with anger.

“And the gnomes are a friendly and industrious people,” Martin continued. “The show of good will could lead to a new and valuable ally and trading partner.”

Perika frowned, but finally accented to curing one.   

This was followed by a long discussion about which gnome to return to flesh, while the giantess retrieved the means by which she planned to affect the cure.  

Finally, Kazrack threw the stones to decide, but even the gods seemed unwilling to make a choice, and it was decided any was as good as another.  The one outside the cave, outside of the wall was chosen.

Perika left the valley home by the true exit, meeting the party back outside of the gully wall.  She held the a stone sliver a little over a foot long.  It looked tiny in her hand.  Speaking a word, she tapped the gnome on the head and in a flash he was flesh again, collapsing to a shaking and sobbing heap.

“Wha. . .what happened to me?  Who are you?” the gnome cried out, his voice full of fear.  He grabbed for his axe, but Ratchis plucked it away.  When the gnome saw the ugly half-man he screamed.

“Stay out of my home.” The giantess commanded, ignoring the shrieking gnome the party tried to calm.  “If you should return come around to the northwest and knock on the door like a civilized being.  And…  remind that gnome of his debt and kin.”

She stomped off.

When it was explained to the gnome that he had been rescued, and the party knew Captain Fistandilus and his people he finally calmed down, though he still seemed skeptical that the party would have free access to the village of Gravan.

“What year was it when you happened upon the giants’ lair?” Martin asked him.

“The 3rd Year of the Grey Wash,” (3) the gnome replied.  His name was Moishe Nimblewyck, he explained.

Martin nodded, knowing that was what the gnomes called the previous year.

“How long since you have been to Gravan?” Martin asked.

“Are you one of Greddadiddlerun’s people?  Because he is dead and your people are leaderless,” Ratchis informed him crassly.

The gnome began to sob, buried his face in his hands; his large noise honked every time he took a deep sobbing breath in.

“I don’t know what to do!  What am I to do?  I can’t do it alone,” the gnome said through wracking sobs. 

“Take your time,” Kazrack said, putting his arm around the gnome’s shoulders with compassion.  “We have time.  This is all over-whelming.”

“What brought you around here to begin with?” Ratchis asked, after a moment.

Moishe shook his head.  “I can’t say.  I shouldn’t say.”

The party was taken aback.

The gnome leapt to his feet suddenly.  “I have to go!”

‘Wait!  You cannot just leave!” Kazrack protested.

“I have to see someone about something and find some people,” Moishe said cryptically.

“Other gnomes?” Martin asked.

“The chieftain?” Jeremy asked.  Moishe’s gaze shot at the Neergaardian.

“I cannot say… Do you have any food?”  Moishe rubbed his belly.

“Can you write it down?  I mean, write down what it is you are doing here and what you leave to go do?” Martin was desperately curious.

“No…no, she’ll see,” Moishe replied, softly.

“She?  Who is this ‘she’?” Kazrack furrowed his brow, but Martin shot him a look of disdain.

“I think I understand,” the watch-mage said.  “Say no more.”

“Surely you don’t mean to just let him go, do you?’ Jeremy interjected.

“We cannot hold him against his will,’ Ratchis said. “But I feel like we deserve to know what is going on.”

“You asked me to trust you, now I must ask you to trust me,” Moishe said, meekly.  “If you are truly friends of my people and care for their welfare you will give me that much.  If you do not let me go others of my people will suffer.” 

Ratchis sighed.  “Good luck on your journey,” he said to the gnome.

“We will be resting an hour before moving on,” Kazrack said.  “Why not stay with us and share a meal and we’ll see what supplies we might spare you?”

Moishe Nymblewyck agreed.

Afterward Moishe asked them to give his love to his family if they should return to Garvan before he does.

“That’s not where you are going?” Kazrack asked.

Moishe looked around nervously and shook his head.

Kazrack grunted with frustration.

“May Fezzik watch over you,” the gnome said, shaking all their hands, with a sad and scared look on his face.

“And you,” replied Martin.

Moishe took off for the north.

“What was that all about?” Kazrack asked Martin angrily.

“I think maybe we should follow him at a safe distance,” Ratchis suggested.  “I should be able to track him.”

“No, I don’t think that is a good idea,” Martin shook his head.  “He said ‘_She_’ – and I think that could mean either the Mozek’s mother the succubus, or perhaps one of the escaped drow witches.”

Derek groaned, finally waking up from the wounds he had suffered at the hands of the giants.

“I heard some of that,” the young ranger said. “I was thinking, how many gnomes left the village with the chief when they left to go get the elves’ help?”

“About a dozen, maybe slightly more,” Kazrack replied.  “Less than a score from what I can gather.”

“And you only found one of them in the elf place, right?  He could be one of them, since they are mostly unaccounted for.” Derek posited. 

The party could not move far from the giants’ lair, for Beorth was still unconscious and too heavy and weak to be carried along for very far.   In the morning they would continue their journey southward, along with their speculation about yet another mystery.


Anulem, 7th of Sek – 565 H.E.

 A night’s sleep on the cold hard ground was not what Beorth needed to recover.  So in the morning, both Ratchis and Kazrack tended to the paladin with the blessings of their respective gods.

“Did everyone survive?” was his first question.

“Yes,” Martin replied, not liking the look in the paladin’s eyes.  It seemed to reply, “Not  yet, anyway.”

Kazrack explained to Beorth about the deal with the giants and the freeing of the gnome named Mosihe, and how he seemed scared and uncertain, but not because of the giants.  The decision to leave the gnome to his own devices seemed to weigh heavily on the dwarven holy warrior.

Dark clouds rolled in quickly from the southeast as they packed their gear and began the march southward as fast as they could.   

The rain was light, but constant by the time mid-day approached, but it seemed more like dusk, for the low dark clouds were only intermittently lit up by flashes of distant lightning, followed by powerful thunderbolts. 

Visibility was low, but in the flash of a lightning bolt they could momentarily see some what looked as if the earth had exploded, sending shafts and panels of stone into a haphazard network of slopes, caves, passageways and jagged towers.

As they approached they could see this broken land was huge.  It went as far as they could see in each direction, and according to the map the Pit of Bones should be somewhere within or just beyond this place.

It was awe-inspiring, as if the foundations of the earth had erupted long ago, with shades of gray, brown and black making striations on the long side of the huge stone pieces. (4)

The rain picked up and the sound of echoing torrents resounded from the place before them, like the predatory purr of a great dusky lion.

Ratchis tried to climb up on one of the outlying tall rounded stones to get a better view, but the stone was too round and too wet to get atop it.

Frustrated, he signaled for the rest of the group to stay where they were so he could check for tracks in the muddy and grassy field that led to an entrance to the broken land, where two huge tables of stone leaned on each other, jagged ends pointing askew.

The rain made it too difficult to find anything.

Ratchis walked back and dropped his pack and his quiver of javelins, keeping only his bow and his hammer.

“If I don’t return in six hours come up with another plan,” he told the others.

“Where are you going?” Kazrack asked.

“To check things out quietly on my own,” the half-orc said.

Martin shrugged his shoulders and granted the half-orc a ward against arrows, ‘just in case’, and with that the Friar of Nephthys hustled off to the damp darkness of the place on his own.

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

(1)	Giants and dwarves are ancestral enemies.

(2)	Female Cockatrices lay eggs seven to nine months out of the year, laying one large one every three or four days.  The eggs have a hard stony shell, which is difficult to break open, but by not being fertilized they keep for weeks or even months, remaining edible. 

(3)	For a such a mathematical people, gnomes have colloquial and local ways of counting years, based on weather cycles, astronomical phenomenon and the rules of famous gnomes.

(4)	*DM’s Note:* By way of comparison, after I described this place to the players I told them to envision a dirty black and wet version of the Fortress of Solitude in _Superman: The Movie._


----------



## Manzanita

the FMK are getting tough, killing that giant.  I remember when they had trouble with gnolls and such.  Looking forward to getting more answers to all these mysteries.


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## handforged

I love it when they have to deal!  I absolutely love it.  Especially with a giant.  YAY!

~hf


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## el-remmen

Be sure to check out the "Out of the Frying Pan" story hour portal thread and be sure to vote in the poll there.


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## el-remmen

*Session #52 (part ii)*

The place was damp and dark.  Torrents of water fell hither and thither, in great cascades through openings made my slabs of stone leaning on each other, and dripping endlessly through cracks, making all the stone surfaces slick and shiny in the few place the muted light of moon made its way through cloud, mist and stone.  And the sound seemed to echoes from all corners, making Ratchis unable to even hear his own breathing, though the misting of it in the cold dampness reminded him that he still did draw breath.

The broken stones that had long ago erupted from the earth, made a huge chamber not thirty feet in, but its shape was haphazard, and in places the half-orc could not see the ceiling, for it reached in shafts beyond even his darkvision.   Creeping forward he chose a passage to the right, after hearing the lapping of water coming from a passage in front and to the left.  The passage he chose climbed upward, and the hulking ranger struggled to keep his grip and he pulled his muscled bulk up from stone to stone.  He crawled on his belly through pounds of bat guano.

It was a long dangerous climb, and he rested on every large ledge he could find, to catch his breath and continued.  He thanked Nephthys for his magical boots, because even through their protective enchantment the cold of the slick stones nearly numbed his thick calloused fingers.   

More than 80 feet above where he had come in, a slanted shaft made by three cracked slabs gave way to the open air.  He pulled himself up onto a narrow ledge, that had a drop far beyond his vision on the other side of it.  The black and gray stones of the broken land went off as far as he could see, and he blinked his eyes to keep the cold rain out.  

Suddenly, there was flash to his left, someone hastily put out a fire beyond his vision, for a sending in the dying members he though he saw a hunched form climb down.  There was no way to reach that plateau from where he was, and the water here came down like a river over stone.  Climbing further would be hard for him and impossible for most others, except perhaps Jeremy.  He climbed back down to find another way.

The floor of the more central path gave way to jagged stairs that tumbled down to an even damper darkness.  Beneath his feet Ratchis felt gravel and sand give way, and then his boots squished in mud, all the while going further and further down.  He held his hammer in one hand and put a hand to the wall of the narrow passage to lend balance.  Eventually it opened into an even bigger and flooded cavern. There was a small beach-like outcropping, but the water smelled of death and minerals.  Ratchis touched a drop to his tongue and spit it out.  It was foul.

He noted tracks of sandaled feet on the beach and the tell-tale sign of a small boat that been dragged up on the beach several time and then pushed off with an oar.  He could not see the other side, but hopping it was shallow enough and knowing his boots protected him from the cold he waded in.  He had barely gone out for our five feet when the bottom gave way plunging him in above his waist.  He paused and considered going back when he felt strong hands grasp both of his legs.  Lurching backward he looked down to see rotting dwarven forms trying to pull him down to a watery doom.  One twisted his leg with such strength, he felt himself getting pulled under as it gave way.  He shuddered in pain.

Ratchis leapt back, grabbing his chain of scored links in his left hand and calling to his goddess.  The undead dwarves let go and melted into the darkness of the water.  Ratchis hurried back out to the first chamber, breathing hard.

The passage to the left was broader than the first two, and while it started going by winding down further into the earth, after several turns it began climbing by way of oddly angled plateaus that might have been steps for giants even greater than those the Fearless Manticore Killers had faced, but these steps had been made by falling stones, and were jagged and covered in bat guano.  Despite the littered feces, Ratchis could tell the air here was fresher.  He climbed a bit and found the passage way ended a narrow crawlspace, no mare than three feet high.  Not wanting to go beyond it because of how difficult retreat would be he returned to his companions and described what he found.

“We face another vast army of undead,” Beorth said, when he heard of the undead.  “With a name like the Pit of Bones, we can hardly expect any less.  Anubis will be done.”

They walked down to the first chamber and looked around more.  Kazrack looked up the shaft which Ratchis had first climbed. 

“When will you learn to fly, Martin?” the dwarf asked the watch-mage.

“I don’t know,” Martin replied sounding annoyed.

“I don’t mean to sound like Kazrack,” Ratchis asked, but you once made a magical dome we could sleep in, could you make a magical boat?”

“I used a scroll for that, and, no,” Martin said. (1)

 The way to the left seemed the only way to go.

Martin sent Thomas to crawl past first and then described what he saw the best he could.  The squirrel described many climbs leading to an open plateau and what he thought might be a way down deeper in the center of the huge slabs of upturned igneous rock.

“Ooh, I see someone!” Thomas cried. 

“Hide!” martin commanded.

“Already have,” the squirrel familiar replied.  “I’m coming back.”

“He saw someone,” Martin told the others.

“Like a monk?” Ratchis asked.

“No, he said it was small, like a gnome or a dwarf.”

“Or an undead dwarf,” Ratchis said.

“Could the monks be commanding these undead?” Kazrack asked.

“If they split from Beorth’s order, they should have no power over the undead,” Ratchis speculated.

“I do not think Anubis would support this,” Beorth said.

“But another god or power might,” Martin said.

“If these monks have turned Anubis and now flaunt his edicts so boldly as to command the undead they will die on my sword,” Beorth said, without a trace of emotion.  “But we should try to take them alive to learn the truth of them before we dispense justice.

Ratchis nodded.

The crawl was not as long as they feared, as they moved beneath the tons of rock on their belies, dragging their packs with ropes behind them.

After that was more the ‘giant steps’; some were only a few feet, but were as tall as 18 feet, Jeremy and Ratchis would climb up first and pull up the others with a rope.  Kazrack was hurt leaping across a shallow pit, when he did not quite make it.

Jeremy and Derek laughed.

Up and up they went, winding in broad arcs ever to their left.  Finally they came upon flat plateau of  black stone, shaped like triangular wedge, divided by a perpendicular wall of cracked stones that seemed forces up through the sheer rock floor.  Coming out of the ascending passageway, a narrow stone outcropping blocked their view on their left, but on the great were great mottled overhangs of stone.  Ratchis could see great pieces of ice on the upper stones, cracking and melting. 

Coming around the outcropping, Ratchis could see they were above a great opening that broad lip of stone creating by mighty slabs of the stone shoved up out oft earth at sharp angles.  Ratchis came forwardsand saw they were over a hundred feet, perhaps as much as 120’, above the upper portion of the area below, a whole swath to the right was even deeper and shrouded in darkness.  Jagged stones covered everything, giving the place the appearance of thousands of jagged beaks.

There was a very steep ramp covered in places by splotches of the black jagged stones that ran parallel to the face of the plateau that hung over the great chasm.  Getting down would be treacherous, Ratchis saw.

He looked back and saw that Derek and Jeremy were the first to climb up the last small 'gaint step' and come out on to the plateau and Beorth was close behind them.

Suddenly there was a commotion below.  Ratchis looked down to see a small, probably gnomish figure go dashing across the black upper slab.  The sound of his chain shirt jingling echoed in and out if the sound of the water, and it was clear he held some weapon in his hand. 

Less than a moment later another figure appeared below them (both were running in the way the party faced so their backs were to them).  It was a tall lanky human man with a shock of silver hair.  He wore armor as well, but had a hand and a half sword held over his head as he poured on speed to cut down the more diminutive figure.

*End of Session #52*


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

(1) This was back in the Honeycombe.  See Session #24


----------



## Horacio

Wow, compadre, thanks for the update!


----------



## handforged

Thanks indeed.  This environment is very creepy.  I like it.

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

*(part 1 of 2)*

*Session # 53*

The fleeing gnome reached what would have been a short plateau for anyone else, but the diminutive figure struggled to grab the edge of the slightly more than five foot stone lip.

A second gnome appeared to the human’s left, atop another small plateau from which a tiny cave egressed.  He held up a crossbow and fired on the him, but the bolt seemed to bounce off the man’s chainshirt with little or no pain, and not distracting him at the least from his prey.

Ratchis stood tall and putting an arrow to his great bow, fired at the pursuing figure with such abandon that the bow snapped out of his hand, forcing him clutch it to his chest to keep it from flying over the cliff edge. (1)   The arrow went wide.

“There’s a human attacking a gnome,” Ratchis cried to companions.

Derek came around pulling his bow out and stringing it, as Jeremy squeezed past them both and examined the slope leading down to scene below them.

“We have to save the gnome!” Beorth commanded.

“I’m on my way,” Jeremy replied, and looked at Ratchis and Derek. “But please don’t shoot me.” 

Martin climbed the last step and hurried out onto the plateau to see what was happening, leaving Kazrack complaining behind him.  The short and stocky dwarf was having as much trouble getting up the last lip as the gnome was having below.

Ratchis rained more arrows down, that fell short of the mark as they could hear the gnome crying out in pain from the savage blows the human was now bringing down on him with his bastard sword.  The gnome pathetically tried to parry and return the blows with his axe, but failed.  The man’s steel was a blur of silver.

Jeremy leapt down on to the sloping natural ramp and swayed and slipped, making it down to one of the outcropping of jagged stone, he grabbed on to steady himself before continuing. He warned the others that the near frozen water on the slope made it even more treacherous than such an incline would normally be.

One of Derek’s arrows lodged in the human’s lower back, between chinks in his armor, but he did not seem to care or notice.  He cut down the gnome, even as it begged for mercy and then dropped the point of his sword into it again making sure it was dead.

The man turned his head slowly and calmly as another crossbow bolt flew past him from the second gnome.

Beorth awkwardly tried to make his way down the slope, while Kazrack still cried out, forgotten, kicking his legs wildly trying to get purchase.

“This is so demeaning,” he muttered.

Ratchis’ rain of missing arrows continued, “I hope those aren’t demon-gnomes and we’re making a big mistake.”

Derek flipped off the cliff edge, twenty feet down the slope and fired, but the arrow went wide as he lost his footing and was about to begin a potentially deadly descent when he reached out and grabbed the edge of one of the sharp rocks, grimacing.

“You’ll have to show me how to do that one of these days,” Jeremy quipped, as he made his way carefully down to the same outcropping of stone; to move any faster would have likely meant tumbling the rest of the way down out of control. (2)

A third gnome came charging out of the small cave with a battle axe held above his head, heading towards the human, while the gnome with the crossbow, put it away and drew a warhammer.  The bastard sword and the battle axe met with a clang.

Martin hurried back to Kazrack, realizing the dwarf was still not with them and reached down to grab the dwarf’s hand and pull him up.  Even with help the dwarf scrambled in place.

“_Igneous spheres!_” a high-pitched voice cried, as a little dumpling of a female stepped out of the shadows near the bottom edge of the ramp, and a ball of fire a few feet in diameter began to roll towards the human, bouncing as it went.  With amazing dexterity, the man leapt and twisted, as the ball of fire bounced beneath him.

He did not speak a word. 

Ratchis dropped his bow and grabbing his rope secured to a nearby outcropping of rock and tossed it over the side of the incline.

The clang of weapons echoed from below.  The man turned as if dancing, blocking and returning blows with easy. The gnome with the warhammer moved to flank, but the tall warrior blocked his blow readily.  The man’s skill with his weapon was apparent.

“Wish me luck, D,” Jeremy said to his friend as he moved to continue down the slope.  ‘This guy looks serious.”

Derek fired another arrow at the man, carefully keeping his balance, hoping to flush him away from the remaining gnome.  But not even a rolling ball of fire could do that; even as it turned and rolled back to him he leapt again, but this time the edge of his gray cloak caught fire.

Derek grabbed for Ratchis’ rope after putting his bow away, seeing the man drop the gnome with the axe and turn his attention to the other, who fled.  

Ratchis shoved Martin out of his way and reached down to pull up Kazrack.  The watch-mage hurried back to the scene and calling upon one of his illusions, a bristling wolverine of large size appeared between the man and the gnome.

“It’s Tanweil!” Martin cried, seeing the man in profile for the first time. (3) 

Jeremy made to the bottom, and the female gnome turned her short bow on the Neergaardian.

“We’re here to help you,” Derek said, getting to the bottom of the rope.

The female gnome was had a cute chubby face, gray face and silvery ringlets that fell out from beneath a colorful knit cap.    She wore no armor, and looked dirty as if she had been on the road for a long time.  Her large hazel eyes were swollen as if she had been crying long and often, and there was fear and sadness in them.

“Do you speak common?” Jeremy asked.

“Who the hell are you?” she asked harshly.

Her attention turned away from her ball of flame, it fizzled out as Tanweil leapt over it one last time, as he eyed the wolverine cautiously.

Beorth grabbed the rope and pulled himself over the edge, but before he climbed down he looked down to where the female gnome was and covered his eyes, “Anubis, please grant me your divine vision so that I may know we are entering this fight on the right side.”

He detected no ill will or darkness in her heart.

Ratchis pulled out his bow again and made ready to shoot as the man moved away from the wolverine towards the small plateau the first gnome had tried to climb upon.  

Derek let an arrow fly at the man as he leapt up easily the little less than six feet up on to the lip.  Without looking back the man’s sword swung in an arc behind his back, sending the arrow flying off before it could strike him.  In one smooth motion he sheathed his blade on his back, turned and drew his own bow.

“Whoa!” Jeremy said, his jaw dropping.

“He is a very dangerous man!” Martin called out to his companions.  “He killed 20 or more orcs on his own, on the road to Gothanius.”

The other gnome began to hurry over, putting away his warhammer and drawing his own crossbow and keeping it aimed at Jeremy.

He was an older gnome, and though he wore a metal cap, they could tell he was bald.  He had craggy wrinkles around his long and broad gnome, and bags beneath his umber eyes.

“You’d better stay the hell away from her,” he threatened.  The female gnome moved away, putting a thick rock outcropping between her and the Neergaardian.

Martin had his illusory wolverine move to guard the fallen gnome, as everyone heard Beorth cry out.  He lost his grip on the rope and came tumbling down with a hard fall 45 feet below.  He lay there stunned and holding his head, his armor dented and scuffed.

Hollering with frustration, Ratchis dropped his bow, as his arrows fell short of their target again and again.

“You little guys should stay behind cover,”: Derek told the gnomes. He let another arrow go, and this one found it mark. Tanweil winced from the blow, but did not hesitate.  An arrow came flying back, grazing the ranger’s thigh.

Jeremy loaded his crossbow, not anxious to test his own swordsman ship against someone who’s prowess seemed to come from legend.  He fired a bolt and it grazed the man’s ear, and he took a five-foot step back.

“Whose side are you on?” the older gnome asked.  “You can’t stop us like he’s trying to.”

“I hate not know what’s going on,” Jeremy muttered.

Ratchis decided the bow was his best option to stop the man, and lifted his bow again and kept up the rain of ineffective arrows.

Worried that he might be in the line of arrow fire Martin stepped to his left to get behind a rock, but at that same moment Kazrack had pulled the rope up and was leaping down onto the incline used it to swing about halfway down onto the incline.  Unfortunately, doing this brought the taut rope with the dwarf’s weight on it across Martin’s ankles, whipping the watch-mage off the edge and onto the ramp, and he began to slide painfully down.   Thomas leapt from his master’s shoulder and onto the safety of the plateau.

Kazrack was able to reach out and grab the mage, but the latter was stunned and the illusory wolverine popped out of existence.

“My apologies,” Kazrack said, as Martin drooled and moaned.

Derek hurried forward to get a better shot, but missing he felt the bite of two more of the steel-headed arrows, and now blood was flowing readily from his wounds.  This realization made Derek note something about Tanweil.

“You’ve got to drive him away!  Drive him away!” the older gnome cried out from behind the rock.

“Derek!  For the love of the gods, get back here,” Jeremy called to his friend, loading and shooting another bolt that grazed the man.  

Beorth crawled over to the gnomes and stood.  “We are here to help you.  Who is that man?”

“You’d better stay back!” the female gnome warned Beorth, point her bow and arrow at the paladin with suspicion.

“That guy does not seem to bleed,” Derek said to Jeremy.  “He seems to have some kind of protection.  I just noticed.”   He backed away, ducking to avoid more of the man’s arrows.

“I am Beorth, a servant of Anubis.  I mean you no harm,” Beorth said to the gnomes.

Jeremy dropped to the ground to make a smaller target and called out, “Beorth, you need to back us up.  I think it’ll take the three of us to drop that guy!”

Tanweil winced again, but did not bleed as another of Derek’s arrows caught him in the shoulder.  He leapt down and grabbed the fallen gnome.

“He’s got Kasha!” the older gnome cried.

“Drop the gnome!” Jeremy commanded, standing and loading his crossbow again. “And drop the bow!”

The man held the bow in his right hand and held the gnome beneath the arms with his left, taking in the scene silently. 

“What does he want with the body?’ Beorth asked, pausing.

“I don’t think he’s dead,” the female gnome said, tears sliding down either side of her potato-like nose.  “I hope he’s not dead.”

Martin shook his head to clear it and glared at Kazrack angrily.  He reached into the folds of his watch-mage robes and found his magic ring, slipping it on. (4)

“Are you well?   Can I leave you?” the dwarf asked the mage.

Martin nodded, and Kazrack foolishly decided to try a controlled slide the rest of the way down.  Instead, he managed to slam into the wall below spinning as he came down.

Ratchis cast _light_ upon one of his arrows.

Derek moved forward again, firing as Tanweil leapt up on the ledge again, still holding the gnome.  His arrow went wide, as did Jeremy’s bolt, as they were afraid to strike the gnome-shield.

“He’s stealing Kasha!” the older gnome cried.

“I will stop this desecration!” Beorth said firmly, and drawing his sword, began to run toward Tanweil.

Bolstered by Beorth’s bravery, the female gnome came around the stone and speaking two arcane words, two arrows of light burst from her pointed finger, and struck Tanweil unerringly.  

Martin made the rest of his way down using the rope, and called to his familiar telepathically.

“I’m coming down with Ratchis,” the squirrel replied.

“Okay.”

Ratchis fired one last arrow, and then moved to use the rope for his own descent.

Tanweil flung the gnome, Kasha, onto a taller ledge atop the first one and then leapt up beside him.

Jeremy dropped his own crossbow and drawing his sword, made a running leap up on the first lip.

“Come back here!” he cried.

Beorth was having a much more difficult time getting up on the ledge.

The female gnome moved over to her companion as Martin finally got to the bottom, and heard her say, “we have to get out of here.”

“Are you from Garvan?  Why are you here?” the watch-mage asked them, as they looked back at him with wide-eyed surprise.

“I will tend to your friend,” Kazrack told them, as he stood and hurried to where the battle had moved.

Martin did not wait for an answer and hurried after him.

Meanwhile, Tanweil had scooped the the gnome back up and Jeremy was up on the upper plateau approaching him with caution.  Derek began making his way up there as well, but Beorth still struggled. 

Kazrack paused on his way to the first fallen gnome, and coruched down to give Beorth a boost.

Anxious to get down the slope, Ratchis moved too quickly and fell prone, holding the rope to keep from going down the rest of the way.

Derek made it to the upper ledge as well, and fired nearly point blank on Tanweil, but the warrior ducked into a crouch, letting the arrow go over his head 

“Now I know who the dragon’s allies are,” Tanweil said, his voice an emotionless hiss.  They could see his face clearly now, his white hair belying his long youthful face.  Suddenly he sprung off the ledge to his left, where the floor of the open area gave way to a great drop of over fifty feet.

It was as if time slowed, as jaws dropped, certain that the warrior they were struggling against had just decided to kill himself rather than face the party.

But they were wrong. 

Instead of plummeting down, Tanweil glided down, his feet hanging akimbo, one arm up and still holding his bow, and the other let the gnome fall.

“Gods!” Jeremy cried, leaping down to a different lower ledge in that same direction.  “Did ya see that?”

Beorth got up ton toe first ledge just in time to see the warrior glide past.
Martin turned back to the gnomes, seeing that the man had fled, by whatever bizarre means.  They were hurrying along back to the small passageway the older gnome had first emerged from.

“What’s going on?” Martin asked them.  “Why are you fighting?  Talk to us, please!”

Tanweil landed far below with a jerking step, almost stumbling, and then hustled down beneath a huge broken horizontal slab that rested on two others. 

Jeremy called for Kazrack to follow him as he jumped and climbed down towards the dropped gnome.

“Well, I don’t think we need  to rush down to help _that_ gnome,” Kazrack commented in his common brusque tone.

“Jeremy!” Beorth called.  “You are the only one fast enough catch him!”

Jeremy looked back at the paladin like he was crazy.  He had no intention of chasing down Tanweil, and was only concerned with the gnome.

“We can’t protect you if you hurry away,” Ratchis said to the gnomes, coming up beside Martin.

The two gnomes clambered up on to the small lip and retreated into the passageway.

“If you let him get the sword our chieftain will die,” the older gnome pleaded, and then disappeared into the darkness.

“We’re cousins of Garvan.  We just came from there.  We know your chieftain is missing.  We’re here to help!” Martin called after him, climbing up himself.

Chaos reigned for a few moments as the party was trying to accomplish two different things at once.  Martin and Ratchis wanted to chase after the gnomes, Jeremy and Kazrack were heading down to see to the gnome and regroup for pursuit of Tanweil.

Beorth and Derek stood with indecision, not sure which was the proper course.

So in the end they decided to await it out and camp there, as the day was growing long and on the morrow use Martin’s spell of _levitation_ to get a vantage point from which to spot the actual Pit of Bones.

Beorth and Ratchis went about recovering the corpses of the two gnomes and burying them beneath cairns of stones, while Derek and Jeremy made their way back up the treacherous slop to get the party’s packs and other dropped gear.

On their way back Jeremy and Ratchis discovered a patch of brown mold on the large stone the gnomes had hidden behind earlier.  It’s very presence made them both feel cold and feverish.

Jeremy wanted to burn it, but Ratchis figured it the warmth might feed it and make it bigger, and they decided to leave it alone altogether.
They unrolled their bed rolls, but decided against even a small fire since it would be too easy to spot from all the nearby perches.  They just suffered through the cold and damp.

“I don’t know what that creature was, but it moved so fast and the way it glided with its little wings,” Kazrack said, as they brought their gear to the upper plateau from whence Tanweil fled. 

“What creature?” asked Ratchis.

“The man who attacked the man was no man,” Kazrack replied.

“Yes, it was an illusion or something; a disguise,” added Derek.  “When he was flying or whatever I could see it for moment, like it didn’t make sense that he could do that and suddenly I could see him for what he truly was…”

”And when he landed he looked that a human again,” Jeremy said, agreeing.

“What are you saying?” Martin asked.  “I know that man from my journey to Gothanius.  His name is Tanweil, and he is fierce warrior, but as far as I could tell human, though he never spoke to me, or anyone else that I ever heard the entire time we traveled.”

“He looked familiar to me, too,” said Ratchis.

“Probably from the castle,” Martin speculated. “But, what did he look like to you?”

“Like some kind of man-lizard,” Kazrack said.

“Or a dragon-man,” Derek said.  “He had little wings on his back, and he really wore a chain shirt, but he also had a tail, with a ridge up his back.”

“He was certainly scaly, and the muscles of his wings and shoulders were broad,” Jeremy added. “He looked strong.” 

“I think it is connected to the dragon,” Derek said.  “Glamorganna.” (5)

“You know the dragon’s name?” Beorth was astounded.

“Yeah…”

“How come you never told me?” Martin asked.

“You never asked,” Derek replied, laughingly.

“Hmmm, well… the dragon could be the ‘_she_’ Moishe mentioned,” Martin mused.  “When he said, ‘_she would be watching_’”

“The gnomes may be working for her,” Derek suggested.

“This is growing increasingly odd,” Martin said.

“We cannot allow this to distract us,” Ratchis said.  “The only thing that matters is finding the map that shows us where Hurgun’s Maze is.”

The others agreed, though some more grudgingly than others.

“I still think we should go after the gnomes,” Kazrack said.

“The gnomes don’t know where the map is,” Ratchis said.  “They said they are here for some sword, and anyway, they can travel through passages too small for us.  It is best we make our own way.  I’ll take first watch with Martin.  They rest of you get some sleep.” 

“Good idea,” said Kazrack, bedding down.

“And what if that dragon-creature comes back?” Jeremy asked, trying to fluff his pack into some kind of pillow.

“Then I’ll wake you when we reach Anubis’ Realm,” Ratchis replied.

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

(1) *DM’s Notes:* Ratchis’ Player rolled a fumble requiring him to take a move-equivalent action to fix his grip or drop his weapon.

(2) *DM’s Notes:* Moving any moving any faster than half speed required a balance check (DC 20) to keep your feet and a subsequent reflex checked (if failed; DC 12 to 20; depending on how far the PC was from an outcropping) to keep from tumbling down.

(3) Tanweil traveled to Gothanius with the same group of dragon-hunters as Martin the Green did.

(4) *DM’s Notes:* Remember, in addition to the “sustenance” abilities that kick in after a week’s time, the ring also provides the wearer with a +4 enhancement bonus to Constitution.

(5) Derek was sent to warn Martin the Green about the dragon, and to help him in any way possible to stop it.


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## el-remmen

This is a rough touched up map of the area the battle in the last installment took place in.







I think it is a good example of how environment is the key ingredient in making otherwise lackluster and overly abstract D&D combat into something worth doing.


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## Horacio

Hey Nemm, great update.
Thanks for the map, it helps to visualize the situation. And I agree about environement in D&D combat, it's the key to make a memorable encounter.


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## el-remmen

Hey all!  Just a reminder that there is a moderated chat with story hour authors tonight on the #dnd3e channel - I'll be taking part.


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## rigur

Nice uppdates Nem keep up the good work, and good to see you back Horatio btw.


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## Look_a_Unicorn

Heya Nemm, updates are great, as always- just a comment on the Story Hour Author chat:
"nemmerle - my readership seems very "rules light""
I was operating under the impression that your story hour was being written several sessions behind where you guys are up to IRL, so I thought it would be a bit stupid to make suggestions on what your players could do, (or should do) next, when they have already bypassed the issue one way or another several months ago...
But apart from that, speaking personally, I am fairly rules light- it's the entertainment factor that keeps me coming back  (not that I don't steal an idea or two now & again- the form changing goo-blob perhaps? *sniff* Poor Jana.)


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## el-remmen

Look_a_Unicorn said:
			
		

> Heya Nemm, updates are great, as always- just a comment on the Story Hour Author chat:
> "nemmerle - my readership seems very "rules light""
> I was operating under the impression that your story hour was being written several sessions behind where you guys are up to IRL, so I thought it would be a bit stupid to make suggestions on what your players could do, (or should do) next, when they have already bypassed the issue one way or another several months ago....)




As far as I am concerned that is even more reason to speculate or suggest (albeit futilely), because it cannot influence my players.

And in terms of the "rules-light" comment, I meant that rarely do people ask about the "crunchiness" behind the events described herein.


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## Look_a_Unicorn

nemmerle said:
			
		

> As far as I am concerned that is even more reason to speculate or suggest (albeit futilely), because it cannot influence my players.
> 
> And in terms of the "rules-light" comment, I meant that rarely do people ask about the "crunchiness" behind the events described herein.




Oh, I see what you mean- I guess you make it too easy to view as a story and forget it's based on a campaign- except the occasional crit on a Vampire.


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## Manzanita

That's a beautiful map.  I agree that it adds a lot to combat.  I like how it uses the jump and balance skills - which generally seem underused.  I'll have to try something like that.  Any advice on creating those maps or running such a session?  It's tricky to take it all in.

I enjoyed the updates, too.  Care to tell us anything more about Tanweil to spare us digging around for his earlier appearence, which I've completely forgotten.


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## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> That's a beautiful map.  I agree that it adds a lot to combat.  I like how it uses the jump and balance skills - which generally seem underused.  I'll have to try something like that.  Any advice on creating those maps or running such a session?  It's tricky to take it all in.




Well,  I usually start with picturing a scene in my head.  For example, in the encounter described in the last installment, I imagined the FMK perched way above someone else's chase scene, with a difficult route toget down there.  

It is also always important to me to present options for the party that each have their pluses and minuses, for example, the party could have shot at Tanweil (or the gnomes, too if they wanted to, I guess) from above, there was the option of just climbing down the cliff face (which Beorth did and fell (as he often does)), or braving the partially icy slope with its patches of jagged rocks, which could be navigated safely, but very slowly (moving more than half speed required first a balance check and failing that then required a Reflex save.

By creating a textured environment for PCs and foes to interact with you add a lot of dimension to a combat and can make things more than levels and hit points and BAB be important.    

When creating these environments and scenes - also keep in mind if who aor what might live in an are might determine something about the environment.  Low ceilings in rooms or tunnels can lead to loss of dex adjustment to AC for medium creatures, grades, slopes and other barriers could effect a character's speed.  Small plateaus lead to people jumping rather than climbing (as a general rules I require a climb check for anything above your height, otherwise, it is assumed you can just automatically pull yoruself up).  

This also creates cover and the like which can make combat a lot more interesting.

As for advice for running it, just make sure you have a map with relative heights and distance marked on it, and use description to give PCs an inkling about how difficult something might be (but don't use numbers, I hate numbers - let them decide based on your description and base your description on their prowess at climbing, jumping, balance or survival skills  in order to keep things fair).  Also, mark the heights of things on the battlemat,  and let the PCs know how much cover things provide so they can make informed decisions.

Does that help?  Let me know if I can answer anything else.




			
				Manzanita said:
			
		

> I enjoyed the updates, too.  Care to tell us anything more about Tanweil to spare us digging around for his earlier appearence, which I've completely forgotten.




Well, he hasn't really appeared in the story in terms of how Martin knows him (he'd be part of Martin's background as he did not join the party until after arriving in Gothanius) - but actually, someone else met him along the way as well - that will come up in the next session or so - so I'll wait and let you find out then.


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## Manzanita

*Tanweil*

Don't tell me.  He was the one Ratchis met one time in the snow.  He had killed several gnolls and was camped out in a tree.

If I'm right, do I get first shot to be a player in your eventual PbP game?  (I know you said you'd never do it, but let us at least keep the hope alive!)


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## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Don't tell me.  He was the one Ratchis met one time in the snow.  He had killed several gnolls and was camped out in a tree.
> 
> If I'm right, do I get first shot to be a player in your eventual PbP game?  (I know you said you'd never do it, but let us at least keep the hope alive!)




You know your stuff and probably get all the "Out of the Frying Pan"-related questions when playing Trivial Pursuit.


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## Manzanita

Hey - I was on my state championship academic bowl team in high school.  (of course it's a little easier to be state champs in Oklahoma than New York...)


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #53 (part ii)*

“Wake up! Wake up!” Martin shook Jeremy and Derek at once, while Kazrack sat up looking around in the dark.

“What’s going on?”

The earth was shaking and the great broken slabs of stone groaned as they tried to give way to each other.  Dust rose in great cloud choking their lungs, and a rain of pebbles came down around them.

“We need to move camp!” Ratchis said, his arms full of everyone’s packs as he kicked Beorth awake.  “We need to get out from underneath this overhang in case it collapses.”

The Fearless Manticore Killers moved out from under the overhang and down to the great plateau that was out under the dark cloud-covered night sky.

The shaking only lasted a few moments, but the echoing cracks, and the settling groans of the great slabs made them nervous.  It took some time for them to settle back in their bedrolls.

Derek and Jeremy took over the watch.

It was not long before Jeremy was spooked, not by the quiet, but how the long patches of silence were broken up by a singular echoing drop of water, or a breeze blowing through the narrow cracks hundreds of feet above them.

“Something could come and we wouldn’t know,” Jeremy said.

“Calm down,” Derek replied, his smile was invisible in the darkness.  “I can tell a moth’s wing from a dove’s fart.”

Jeremy’s laughter echoed out across the chasm and then he quickly hushed himself.

Derek stood up.  “Did you hear that?’

“Stop messing with me,” Jeremy replied, laughter still in his voice.

“Footsteps in the water below,” Derek put hand to his ear.

“I am so gonna beat your ass if you’re messing with me,” Jeremy replied, but then he thought he could hear the arrhythmic splashing as well, and the sound of something clawing the stone wall far below.

“I heard it that time,” Jeremy said, even as the things began to whisper words in an indecipherable language.

They woke Kazrack, who when he heard the whispering, leapt to his feet.

“That is dwarven!” he hissed. “Wake the others.”  The dwarf grabbed his halberd.

Derek began to light a torch, while Jeremy kicked Beorth and Martin awake.  Ratchis, having heard the commotion was already on his feet and casting Nephthys’ blessing upon his long sword.

Martin an arcane word and his own torch lit up.

“You make yourselves targets with those,” Ratchis croaked.

Kazrack moved to the edge of the cliff and looked down, at the end of his darkvision he could see a dwarven form slowly coming up the face, digging its white claws into the stone, and looking up eagerly.  Its beard and skin were shockingly white in the reverse world of dwarven sight, but it’s eyes were a disturbing black.  The beard was wet and knotted, clinging to the creature’s hide, and dripping water to echo below it.

“What are they saying?” Martin asked, he moved up behind Ratchis who had stood beside the dwarf.

“Nothing that matters,” Kazrack replied, waiting above the climbing creature with his pole-arm poised to strike.  “Things to try to unnerve us.”

But the hissed words of the undead dwarves did not dishearten the stalwart dwarf, inwardly he knew the words were ones any dwarf might fear.

He knew that these were the undead called “the grapplers” in dwarven legends, the cursed dead who died submerged in water, whether it be deep in caves or out at sea, and they wanted nothing more that to drag their former kin to  watery grave as well, to increase their accursed and shameful ranks.

“Come back with us,” they hissed.  “We will bring you down to your fathers’ fathers’.  You will feel the sweet ecstasy of your lungs filling.”

“Let me turn them,” Ratchis suggested.

The first of the dead dwarfs made it to the top.

“Let them come!  They must be destroyed!” Kazrack roared, bringing the blade of his halberd down on the head of the first one, cleaving it open.  The creature screeched and tumbled off the clif to land on the plateau twenty-five feet below.   

Derek spotted another of the things coming over the cliff twenty feet further to Kazrack’s right.  He ran towards it and Martin and Beorth hurried after him.   The dead dwarf hissed with black teeth.  Derek could see the thing’s black knotted hair and deep blue-black skin, but blind white eyes.   He buried the axe in its head as it came up and then yanked it back out.  The dwarf laughed and black water poured out of his mouth.  Martin swung his torch at it ineffectually.  Beorth struck it with his longsword, and it shook as if it was about to lose its grip, so Kazrack ran over and gave it another hard blow.  The grappler roared as it tumbled back off the cliff face.

“Now your family is forever safe,” Kazrack swore.

“Are there more?” Martin asked, and as if in answer two more began to pull themselves over the edge. Derek and Beorth went to chopping at one, while Kazrack and Ratchis went for the other.

Beorth cleaved the head from the one he dealt with, but the other leapt off the cliff deftly.

“You will join us, son of Rak-kazum,” the dwarf said to Kazrack, as he leapt.

Kazrack’s eyes went wide, and without hesitating he leaped after it.  

“Kazrack!” Ratchis cried, and he leapt as well.  

“What are you? Crazy?” Jeremy called after them, but he leapt as well.

Kazrack landed with a grunt, his left leg nearly collapsing beneath him as pain ran up it and into his chest, but he did not stop.  He thrust his halberd at the fleeing undead dwarf, and black blood spurted from it.  Ratchis ran at it and it screamed and leapt at him, arm’s forward in a wrestler’s stance.  The half-orc shoved his sword through its gut, and the bones of fish and the rotten corpse of snake fell out of it, along with the stretching coils of guts.  It reached for him, but then stopped moving.

Ratchis whipped his blade to get the corpse off of it.

“When our quest is over we must make an oath to return here and destroy every last one of these horrible things,” Kazrack said, and spit.  “We must burn these corpses.”

When they had done just that, they climbed back up to the camp.

Kazrack took Beorth aside,  “Beorth, do the dead have some knowledge of the dead from where they lie?”

“What do you mean, Kazrack?” the paladin asked.

“The undead dead thing he called me ‘son of Rak-Kazum’, that is my father’s name.  How could have know that,” Kazrack explained solemnly, sadness creeping into his deep voice.  He tugged on his beard nervously.

“All undead draw their power from one source,” Beorth intoned.  “So it stands to reason that they might share knowledge through that source – but that does not mean your father is dead.”

“I hope not,” Kazrack replied.

“What does your heart tell you?” Beorth asked.

“It is shrouded with doubt,” Kazrack replied, and walking away, he paused.  “Thank you.”

The party discussed if they should return to sleep or try to press on immediately.

“We will need to rest all though tomorrow, I think,” Kazrack suggested.  “With our sleep interrupted we will be too tired to channel the power of our gods and prepare for our miracles in the morning.”

Ratchis said,  “We are close to the Pit of Bones; a place where hundreds if not thousands of dwarves and men died grizzly death, swallowed by the earth.  It will get worse before it get better, we need to make sure we have all our available resources or we will not make it.”

“We may not all make it regardless,” said Beorth.

“We may want to travel during the night and rest during the day when the undead are less active,” Martin said, ignoring the paladin’s pessimism, though there was both resignation and fear in his voice.

It was decide that Beorth and Jeremy would watch the rest of the night.  As dawn approached, the young Neergaardian warrior collapsed in exhaustion, and Beorth woke Ratchis and Kazrack.  Derek and Marin remained asleep. (1)

Derek yawned and stood watch while the dwarf and half-orc prayed to their respective gods for guidance and their daily allotment of divine miracles.

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

Kazrack kneeled with his forehead pressed to his twenty-pound prayer stone.  His calloused hands held it in place, and felt the many dwarven runes carved upon it that told the tale of the significant events of his life, every birthday, every honor, and one day the name of his wife and his children.

Ratchis sat with his knees up, and his head leaning on them, and his arms flat on the ground.  He had his belt of scored chain links draped over the back of his neck, muttering words to his benevolent goddess.

Splat!

Something splattered on the hard stone before Kazrack.  He did not rise from where he was, but Derek walked over and looked.  It was a small bird with spotted brown feathers.   A whippoorwill.

“What that…?”

Splat! Splat Splat!

Three more bird plummeted from the air, dying immediately as blood and feathers were smashed against the surface of the plateau they were camped on.

Ratchis looked up.

And then they came down like a rain of dead birds, until the floor was awash with tiny fractured bones, feathers and blood.  There were scores and scores of them.

Martin, Jeremy and Beorth awoke, and again the party was forced to flee back beneath the overhang, and then a moment later, the birds stopped falling.

“Whippoorwills,” Martin said, solemnly.  “An omen of death.”

*End of Session #53*

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

*Notes*

(1) Martin had not yet put his ring, _Lacan’s Demise_, back on.


----------



## Manzanita

I know its probably years away, but I sure hope we eventually find out the answers to all these riddles...


----------



## el-remmen

Riddles?


----------



## handforged

The whipporwills were great.  I was already unnerved just by their presence, and then Martin's proclamation seemed to be an understatement.  I think that this omen-idea is something that I am going to try and fit into an upcoming game.  Thanks for the update.

~hf


----------



## Manzanita

I used the term 'riddles' above somewhat losely.  I love this story & certainly don't want it to end.  I was just saying I'm Constantly on the edge of my seat wondering about how it will all play out.  Is there a dragon?  What are the gnomes up to?  What is Richard the Red up to?  Where did that Manticore come from?  Is Kazracks's dad dead?  etc et all.

I guess that's what Rat Bastardly DMing is all about.  Igot this cold chill suddenly thinking that when/if this campaign ends, what if Nemmerle losses interest in the story hour & stops writing it a year behind when it ends.  Just tell us you'll write it all the way to the end, nemmerle!  Don't leave us before the end!


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> I got this cold chill suddenly thinking that when/if this campaign ends, what if Nemmerle losses interest in the story hour & stops writing it a year behind when it ends.  Just tell us you'll write it all the way to the end, nemmerle!  Don't leave us before the end!




I promise to nring the story hour as far the campaign does, no atter how it ends up ending. . .  Except in the case of my D&D (death and dismemberment).


----------



## el-remmen

*It's all down hill from here. . .*

*Session #54*

Ralem, the 8th of Sek – 565 H.E.

The Fearless Manticore Killers spent their morning reviewing spells to prepare, healing and talking over the things that had recently learned.  Though Martin’s eyes kept trailing over the splattered birds nervously.

“I have been trying to place that Tanweil,” Ratchis said.  “He seemed familiar to me, and it came to me while I prayed.  I met him in the woods west of Ogre’s Bluff, when I was on my own for a day or two after escaping from custody.” (1)

“You were in custody and escaped?” Beorth asked, looking at the half-orc suspiciously, while inwardly cursing his lost memory.  Derek looked at Ratchis with narrowed eyes, echoing the paladin’s reaction.

“I guess Jana never told you that part of the tale,” Kazrack said, putting a hand on Beorth’s shoulder.  “It was a misunderstanding and it was all cleared up.”

“Well… almost…” Everyone looked at Martin when he spoke.  “We still have to retrieve that journal or whatever it is from Rindalith’s possession in payment for the favor Daniel the castle steward did by talking to the king on our behalf.”

“As far as I am concerned that is low on this of priorities, somewhere below hunting this dragon,” Ratchis said.

“Speaking of the dragon, Tanweil accused us of working for the dragon, if you recall,” Martin said,

“It was because we were helping the gnomes.  There is some connection between the gnomes and the dragon, but those gnomes do not seem evil, but they are working for her anyway,” Ratchis said.  “I think…”

“Well, we heard the gnomes had been making the illusion of a dragon to scare humans away from Greenreed Valley, maybe they were doing it on behalf of the dragon, or…” Martin began, scratching his head.

“Or, the illusionary dragon and the dragon sightings drew the attention of a real dragon,” Derek concluded.

“The more questions we have the less we know,” Ratchis sighed.

“Then we should definitely stop learning things and make our decisions with incomplete information,” Beorth answered sarcastically.  Ratchis scowled at him.

“Well, what are our plans if we run into that man-lizard thing again?” Jeremy asked, trying to get back to the immediate problems.

“Not getting killed would be a start,” Martin said.

“Since we have more questions than answers, and he seems to have _some_ answers, I propose we ask questions while we fight,” Kazrack suggested. 

“So we should try to capture him if possible?’ Jeremy asked incredulously, his eyes growing large.

“He seems very dangerous, and I think he could kill us all even if we were fighting to kill and not capture,” Derek said, he got up to throw the last of the kindling he had brought with him into the barren broken land into the small fire.

“So?  There’s nothing to stop us from trying to question him while we defend ourselves,” Kazrack replied.

“Except for the sound of us gurgling in our own blood,” Ratchis said.  The half-orc’s huge ham-hands tightened into angry fists. It was clear he did not like having to contemplate a foe of that kind who could best not only him, but the whole group single-handedly.

“I don’t think it will come to that,” Kazrack said.

“It will come to that for each of us in time,” Beorth said. “If not from this Tanweil, then from something else at some other time.  Those in our professions have little hope of dying peacefully in our beds someday.”

“Can we stop talking about death?” Jeremy asked uncomfortably.  “What are we going to do right now?”

As if in answer, the ground shook again.  It began softly and then seemed to pass beneath them to the southeast, growing stronger and then weaker again.

“We can’t stay here,” Ratchis said, looking up at the cracked and fallen rock.

It was decide that Martin would use his spell of levitation on Ratchis and raised him way up to look around and see if he could spot the pit of bones and a good route to get there. Since Martin had to stay close and it was hundreds of feet up, the watch-mage wrapped his arms about the strong half-orc’s neck, and went up with him. (2)

Ratchis and Martin were happy to feel the warmth of the sun, Ra’s Glory, on their faces, as they left the dampness of the broken slab below them.  Looking around, scores of feet above even the tallest stones Ratchis could see that the great slab of stone that created a wall behind their camp led to an open and wider natural stairway, similar to the one they had climbed up in the dark.  The steps widened as they went down, with tall walls stone on either side of  them, but the ‘giant’ steps were even taller going down.  While some were only a five or eight foot drop, even from this distance he could see most were forty feet tall or more.  There would be a lot of climbing down, but they would have to go that way, for beyond it was a plain of dust littered with broken black shiny stone within a bowl in the earth, and just beyond that was a great canyon wall that seemed to obscure a great pit behind it.  That had to be what they were looking for.

He could see the silhouettes of carrion birds circling that area.

“Carrion birds, huh?” Jeremy said, when Ratchis mentioned them back on the ground as he showed them the route the best he could on their undetailed map. “What are they carryin’?”

“…was that a joke?” Martin asked, looking at Jeremy agog.  Derek burst out laughing.

“Yes,” Jeremy replied.  “Someone need to lighten the moment.”

The Fearless Manticore Killers gathered their things and began the march up the shallow climb to the broad stairs.  The earth rumbled again.

“I think this whole place is still settling,” Kazrack said.

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

It took nearly an hour for the party make their way up to the top of the broad steps.  It was like a wedge cut in several slabs of stone.  Kazrack examined the area and decided there used to be narrower steps going down along side and sometimes winding across the greater steps, but they had long ago worn away and/or collapsed.   He thought is was dwarven work, but their present condition suggested to him that they had fallen out of use long before the citadel had been swallowed by the earth.

Ratchis cast _Bull’s Strength_ on himself, to help with climbing and lowering people and gear.

It was slow going.

It took several hours to get the party about halfway down.  While they could simple sit on the edge of certain steps and slide off to jump safely, at other places Beorth and Kazrack were lowered with a rope first, to keep watch while the rest climbed down.  Martin usually came down third, and Ratchis always came down last, wrapping the rope about his arm to bring it.

At the next ledge, which was 60’ high, Kazrack was lowered about halfway down the wall, while Beorth stood thirty feet back keeping watch, when stone around them began to rumble and shake again.

Kazrack gripped the rope for his life, and Beorth’s face grew confused.  The rumbling grew louder and seemed to be emanating from the wall before him.   

Suddenly the wall burst open.  There was a shower of rock and dirt, and Kazrack let go of the rope to come tumbling down the last few feet onto his backside.

When the dust cleared into the bright shining sunlight, a huge creature came lumbering out of the sudden passageway it had created with its claws. 

It was just over eight feet tall and its drooping shoulders nearly five feet wide.  It had long muscular arms that ended in muscular clawed hands that nearly dragged on the ground, and short stubby legs that ended in broad round feet, and were bent backward at the knee.  It was covered in an umber colored chitinous shell, and had a beetle-like head, with great sharp pincers that looked as if they could easily rip the head from a man.  It’s great beetle-like multi-faceted eyes shone in many colors in the sunlight, and a set of smaller green-blue eyes were set between them, right above the comparatively small mouth that had another set of smaller pincers around it.

It made no sound in and of itself, but its feet crunched the shards of stone beneath it, and its pincers clacked arhythmically.  

The great creature slammed into Beorth with body sending the paladin flying back near the edge of the plateau-step, and prone.

Beorth dragged himself to his feet, to keep from rolling over the edge and drawing his sword, thrust it at the creature.  The sharp point of the long sword, made the smallest scratch on the thing’s shell, and it knocked the blade out of alignment, before the paladin could crack it.

Kazrack leapt to his feet and running at it, slashed with his halberd.  The creature whipped around with unexpected speed and swung on its great clawed hands at the dwarf, before he could even get within the reach of his polearm.  The dwarf ducked the blow, but his halberd fell short of hitting.

Jeremy scrambled down the cliff towards them, while Martin levitated down.  Derek dropped his pack and began to send arrows at the creature, which only bounced off its thick shell.

Ratchis dropped the rope as the lumbering hulk brought a claw across Beorth’s thighs, drawing a gout of blood.  The paladin was jerked of his feet and seemed suspended in the air for a second as the pincer closed in on his shoulder and jerked him around for a second, before dropping him near the edge of the ledge again.

Kazrack tried to draw it away from Beorth, but his blows kept skidding across the thing’s shell with no visible effect.

It even shook off Martin’s _slow_ spell.  Ratchis began to climb down.

The creature reared up and slammed into Beorth again.  The paladin put his sword up to skewer the thing, but the blade just bounced between the two of them.  Kazrack desperately shoved his halberd blade between the thing’s feet to trip it and keep it from shoving the paladin, but it was too strong.  Beorth teetered on the brink for moment, and then disappeared over the edge, landing with a clang and an ‘oof’, his head reeling as he saw double, forty feet below.

Kazrack made to swing again as the creature turned to face him.  The dwarven warrior-priest looked up at it, to thrust the halberd in its face, but something about how the light of the sun hit the polished metal blade, made him pause and drew it back to look at it more closely; a puzzled look on his face.

“Kazrack, are you alright?” Ratchis called, as he leapt off the wall.  Jeremy already had his swords in hand and went charging at the creature. 

“Yaaaaaah!” he cried, and he held his sword up, but before he could reach it, it reached him, bringing a claw down on his shoulder.  Blood oozed down Jeremy’s tunic, and he stepped to one side to get by, but causing his blow to miss.

“You are not supposed to go so fast!” Martin chided the creature, wagging a finger at it.  His voice was a bit slurred, and he just hung in the air, doing nothing, but looking deep into the tiny blue-green eyes set in the center of the creature’s face.

The lumbering creature turned to Jeremy and caught the Neergaardian’s head and neck in his pincers for less than a moment.  Jeremy cried out, as he pulled away, tearing flesh from his ear, and feeling the crunch of his gorget being pressed into his neck.  He held his sword up to keep the overwhelming creature at bay, but he felt his left arm jerk painfully.  There was a sickening tearing sound.

From where he was, firing arrows from the level above, Derek had a moment of confusion as time itself seemed to slow down. He saw something go flying high into the air, as the monster’s swing came up and away from Jeremy.  It was something limp and pinkish and just about two feet long, and it trailed line of thick red liquid behind it and then flipped end over end down to where Beorth had fallen.

He saw Jeremy’s blade hit the ground, and a moment later Jeremy’s body was next to it. A pool of blood spreading out too quickly on Jeremy's left side, spurting strongly from where his arm had once been, but now there was only raw jagged flesh and bone.  Jeremy’s eyes rolled back into his head and his body began to shake violently.

“Look at my halberd,” Kazrack called to Ratchis with a sing-song voice, oblivious to what was going on around him.  “If you look at it right you can see the reflection of your tusks.”


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

(1) The town guard of Ogre’s Bluff arrested most of the party in session #27.

(2) *DM’s Note*: This is actually _not[/I[ the way it happened.  Unfortunately, I made a bad ruling on the use of levitation and did not realize that Ratchis would have to be within range of the spell for Martin to control his ascent and descent.  So in writing this, I had Martin come along with him, while in game he stayed on ground level and controlled it from there, while Derek used his great senses to describe Ratchis’ gestures of whether he wanted to rise or descend to the watch-mage._


----------



## Manzanita

I love it when the FMK get confused.  Reminds me of Manticore I.


----------



## handforged

whoa, this is not looking good.  I truly hope that things are going to turn out ok, as it would be unfortunate to lose someone now.


----------



## Manzanita

Hey, I miss the FMK!


----------



## handforged

me too!


----------



## el-remmen

*Goodbye. . . again. . .*

*Session #54 (part ii)*


The sound of his companions crying out seemed to echo in his ears from down a long dark hallway.  The paladin open his eyes and the light stung.  There was something warm dripping on his face, and he reflexively brushed at it.  It tumbled down onto his chest, and he felt something smear across his cheek, chin and hand.  

Beorth sat up quickly, shaking his head again to come to his senses, and Jeremy’s bloody arm fell into his lap.

“I’m coming!” he called up, and frantically tried to climb the sheer rock wall, but his could not find good purchase, as the weight and restrictive nature of his splint mail dragged him back down.

Derek’s arrows continued to bounce off the lumbering hulk to no effect, but it did not seem to like it nonetheless.  It reared over Jeremy’s crumpled form and clacked its mandibles angrily.  Ratchis leapt off the wall, whipping his warhammer from his back and charging at the thing.  It caught the half-orc’s mighty blow in a claw and pushed it back, bringing the other claw around cutting a deep gash Ratchis’ arm.  The ranger’s eyes opened wide, and then stepped within the creature’s reach, to at least be able to trade blows with the monster. 

But thankfully, Martin seemed to come to his senses for a moment and his second _slow_ spell seemed to do the trick.  The hulk really did seem to lumber now, and teeter slowly towards Ratchis, while Kazrack continued to turn his halberd back and forth in the light, awestruck.

Ratchis felt one claw smash him on the top of head, and a piece of his scalp was scraped painfully full as it ripped off a kinky knot of hair.

Ratchis roared and threw his weight into his shoulder and tried to bulrush the giant bug off the cliff edge, but the thing simply thrust out a claw gripping at his groin and stomach.  Ratchis roared again and fell back, moving his hammer to defense himself, while Kazrack coming to himself stepped to try to flank and distract the hulk.

Out of the corner of his eyes, the dwarf could see a figure fall painfully from the step above.  Derek had tried to leap down, but misjudged, falling and flat on his back, knocking the wind from his lungs.

Ratchis could feel his own blood pouring from him to mingle in the increasingly black pool of Jeremy’s blood he struggled to keep his footing on.

Below Beorth decided to start removing his armor hastily to aid in his climb, as he had made no progress. 

“_Colarus Spectrus_!” cried Martin, casting a handful of multi-colored sand in the direction of the hulk.  A shower of multi-colored light washed over the thing and it stood dazed for a moment.  Ratchis took the opportunity to rush into it with a shoulder again in an attempt to knock it off the cliff; but its legs were squat and wide, and it would not go over.

The confusion settled on Martin again, and he was unsure of what to do, even as the creature shook off the stunning effect and took a _slowed_ swing at Ratchis.  The half-orc ducked.

“Run!  We will all die if we do not flee this monster!” Ratchis cried to his companions.  Kazrack alternated between thrusting his halberd at the creature, failing to penetrate its shell and drawing back looking around as if he did not know where he was.  Finally, he just wandered lazily towards the cliff face, beneath where Martin floated by means of his spell.

Ratchis slammed his hammer against the creature again and again, but only every other blow seemed to make the smallest of cracks in the hulk’s shell.  However, he could see yellow ichor dripping heavily down its leg.

Derek tumbled over towards Ratchis to aid him, avoiding a blow from the thing, but unfortunately the young woodsman, stopped and looked right up at it, and instead of driving his axe into its knee, he hesitated and tried to remember again, what it was he was supposed to do.

Martin suddenly realized what he was doing and sent another flash of color at the monster, and again it was stunned. Ratchis slammed it yet again with his hammer, and this time a long crack appeared from the center of its chest and across its abdomen, spurting more the brown and yellow ichor.  The half-orc kept his eyes on the thing’s chest, stealing glances to see where the blows might come from and relying on his faith to keep his mind clear. (1)

The hulk lifted one of its stubby legs to avoid the swing of Derek’s axe, while Kazrack stumbled away confused.

“Traitor!” Martin cried, pointing at the dwarf, and drawing a dagger to hurl at his companion.  It made sense to his addled mind.

Ratchis turned to moved away from the thing, but it caught him with a claw and threw him down, a trail of blood arcing through the air, as the half-orc fell on his side and rolled over on his back, unconscious and bleeding out.

Kazrack turned his confusion drawing his attention away from his fallen companion to the glint of a grappling hook grabbing the edge of the stone shelf.  Beorth began to pull himself up the rope, bracing his feet against stone wall, but even with the aid, his armor made the climb very difficult.  But he refused to give up, thinking of Jeremy bleeding out above him and needing his help, and he pulled himself up as if by force of will alone. (2) 

The paladin pulled his head up over the ledge, in time to see Derek duck to make what might have been a decapitating blow from the monster, merely rip a deep gash across the young man’s head.  

Derek fell, bleeding from the face and neck.

Martin was staring at the blade of his dagger as if it held the secrets of the universe, and Kazrack, who had been wandering around aimlessly, suddenly charged at the beast, ducking a blow from it and thrusting his halberd blade between its legs.  A gush of ichor poured from it, and it teetered, but did not fall.

“Beorth, Hurry!  Jeremy’s life blood of pouring out even now!” the dwarf cried.

“_Imago Majorca!_” Martin incanted, getting a hold of his senses again, and a great gold ram appeared at the edge of the cliff and began to march resolutely towards the hulk.  The creature fled, trailing ichor from its many wounds, diving back into the tunnel it had created to emerge from.

Beorth pulled himself over the edge and crawled next to Derek who has not far away and lay a hand on his head to keep him from bleeding out.  He stole a glance at Jeremy, and his head hung low.

Kazrack walked over to Ratchis, and saw that the half-orc had stabilized on his own, and then he forced himself to walk through the thick pool of Jeremy’s blood to look at the dead Neergaardian.

Jeremy’s skin was a pale pale white, and his eyes were open wide in pain and horror, his tongue hanging out of his mouth and split where he had bitten it while convulsing.

“First Chance, then Jana, now Jeremy…again…” Martin said, his voice choking as he walked over beside Kazrack.

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

“Is Jeremy dead?” was the first thing Ratchis asked when Beorth’s healing awoke him.  The half-orc could feel the pain and weight of his wounds dragging his limbs down.  He slowly sat up with a grunt and buried his disfigured face in his big calloused ham-hand.

The Fearless Manticore Killers decided to climb the rest of the way down the gigantic steps to the stony plain below, in hopes of finding enough wood to build a pyre for Jeremy, as burial seemed to risky with the amount of undead about.

They marched a few exhausting miles away from the great step, and found a place where many low crags of stone created cover from the barren canyon walls to west where they felt the Pit of Bones must be.  Along the way they cut down the few small scrubby trees they found and laid Jeremy’s body upon a pyre made from them, wrapped in his oil soaked wool blanket.

Jeremy’s gear and personal items were spread out on another blanket, to see what would be taken from it to be used and what would burn with him to go to Anubis’ Realm.

“When I die,” Ratchis said, looking over the things.  “I want you to burn me and spread my ashes in the places I liked, and take my things and use them ‘til they break, or until you find someone else who can use them well.”

As if in reply there was a rumbling from back in the broken land that had emerged from.

“I hate this place,” said Martin.

Derek had not spoken a word since awakening, but now Kazrack offered him Jeremy’s elven sword, _The Right Blade of Arofel_.

“Shouldn’t one of you take it?” Derek said, his voice wet with repressed tears.  “You knew him longer than I did.”

“I think you tow shared a similar spirit,” Ratchis said.  “It would do honor to your friendship if you took it and used it in his stead.”

Kazrack nodded.

“I shall do my best then,” Derek said, a tear coming loose from beneath his eyes, and leaving a smudged line of dirt on his face.

Beorth, Kazrack, Martin and Ratchis each stood on one side of the pyre with a lighted torch.

“He may not have lived long, but he experienced much of this cruel world, and despite that he still knew what side to fight on,” Beorth said.

“He was loyal to his friends, and would have given his life for any of them,” Ratchis said.

“Jeremy, when my heart was heavy you lightened it. For this, I owe you a debt,” Kazrack said.

“We’ll see you soon in the Duat,” Martin said, tears streaming down his face. “Wait for us, okay?  Good luck on your journey.”

Derek said nothing, but held _the Right Blade of Arofel_ in his hands, and cried.

They each stepped forward and putting their torches to the pyre at once, watched it light up.  They then tossed their torches atop it.

“What about the bowl-thing?  Use that!” Thomas chittered in Martin’s mind; sadness tainting his little squirrelly voice.   

“You mean the urn?” Martin replied.  “We cannot.  We do not have it with us, and anyway, it will never work again.” (3) 

“That’s not fair!”

“Life’s not fair, Thomas,” Martin replied, sadly.

“He did not smell as good as Ratchis, but I still liked him,” Thomas said.

“Yeah, me too.”

As the flames of the pyre rose high into the air, the party noticed scores of whippoorwills alighting upon the stone crags near them, and watching, cooing their dread calls quietly, barely audible over the crackle of the flames.

The birds did not wander far, but at dawn after Ratchis and Kazrack were done praying for spells, they fled.

The party decided to spend the day encamped here, to regain their strength and move on the next day.

*End of Session #54* 

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

(1)	*DM’s Note:* Friars of Nephthys gain a +2 sacred bonus to all saves against mind-effecting spells and are immune to spells with the _charm_ descriptor. 

(2)	*DM’s Note:* Beorth’s player used a _hero point_ to ensure he succeeded at this climb.  A hero point can be traded in for a natural ‘20’ for any d20 roll.

(3) Remember, the _Urn of Osiris_ would only work again if all the tasks the party had agreed to undertake were completed, and since Jana died without doing so, it would never function again.


----------



## Manzanita

ohmygosh.  Jeremy really died.  And on a wandering monster, of all things.  Still.  Death is good now & then.  It keeps the players on their toes.  And it is fun, I think, to make a new PC now & then.  I will miss Jeremy though.  Looking forward to meeting the new PC!


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

It's great to see a PC's death treated with solemnity & dignity instead of a mad grab for his gear. I think my group could definitely learn something here!


----------



## el-remmen

There is no replacement for Jeremy coming any time soon.  When the Neergaardian died, his player who commuted down to Brooklyn all the way in New Paltz, NY (which has been in the news lately), decided he would drop out to prepare for his return to college.

He showed up for one or two sessions after #54 to help with NPCs and such - but that was it.  If the game is still going on when he is done with school in a year or so then I hope he could join again and make a new character.

It was a sad day when Jeremy died, especially when Martin has yet to complete his task for bringing Jeremy back the first time.  Also, unknown to the characters, but Jeremy's soul cannot move on from a special place in Anubis' Realm until that debt is paid.


----------



## el-remmen

*Hey True Believers!*

I posted a review of the various plot elements and quests of the Fearless Mantiore Killers as of Session #54 in the Portal Thread.

Click Here to jump right to it.


----------



## handforged

definitely an appropriate end for one of the FMKs.  I will miss him, and his player, I am sure that the party will suffer without the extra hand.  I enjoyed this one.

~hf


----------



## Jon Potter

handforged said:
			
		

> ...I am sure that the party will suffer without the extra hand.





I trust that wasn't the horribly bad pun that it seems.  :\ 

He was one of my favorite characters from this story hour - but then I'm a sucker for the dextrous, two-weapon fighter. I'm certainly going to miss his witty antics.


----------



## Manzanita

Interestingly I recently had my first PC casualty in my PbP game.  That player also elected to drop out rather than create a new one.  I wonder how common that is.  I still believe it's healthy for the PCs to die occationally, but it is tough on player dynamics.


----------



## handforged

You are correct that there was no pun intended.  Sorry if I confused anyone.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #55*

Isilem, the 9th of Sek – 565 H.E.

“Anubis!  Please send these foul undead guardians of this nefarious place out of our sight, so we can continue our sacred mission!” Beorth cried, clutching his golden jackal’s head pedant.  

The armored skeletal beings did not even hesitate, but held their swords aloft and inhuman voices screeched from their tongueless mouths, red pinpoints of malevolent light glowing in the dark pits of their skulls beneath their battered helms.

The Fearless Manticore Killers had spent the day resting, on the east side of the black rocky outcropping.  Derek had explored the rocks themselves, finding narrow paths among them, and places sheltered from the wind and rain, where the stone edges were still very sharp, as if they had once been cut from molten slag.

However, as the sun fell once again, the whippoorwills returned, their spotted feathers ruffling in the occasional breeze from the south.  They were scattered over the rocks, just watching the party, their heads jerking up and down and from side to side in that unnerving way birds often do.   Kazrack had wanted to shoo them off, but Beorth did not let him, saying it was bad luck to do so with birds of ill-omen.  Now the paladin was wondering if he had been wrong.

For not soon after, armored three skeletal figures had clawed their way out of the rock ground and surround the camp, and the birds had taken to the air, creating a great swirl of feathers and chirping above the battle, moving with chilling unity.

“In the name of Nephthys, send these foul creatures back to the grave so that their souls may be set free!” Ratchis cried, swinging his chain belt over his head, and holding his warhammer in the other hand.  Again, the skeletons did not waver.

Martin, who had been studying one of his many books, slammed it shut and put it away, while Derek scrambled to grab his bow and axe.  Kazrack followed suit.

The three undead warriors leaned back as one and lifting their left hands pointed at Ratchis and black bolts of energy flew from their fingers, striking the half-orc.  Ratchis cried out in pain, as he felt the cold blows penetrate his back and chest.

Beorth charged one of the undead minions, “Ahhhhhh-nubis, guide my blow!”  Bringing his quarterstaff down on one, cracking its collarbone, and its sword arm drooped weakly. 

Ratchis looked to charge another, but at that moment his jaw dropped in disbelief and horror.  The whippoorwills had flow into a formation that resembled a tall female form, with a whirling hem of a dress, they moved fluidly, as if she danced and dress rode up.  She was nearly feet tall, as scores and scores of birds moved to keep up the synchronized illusion.

The half-orc had had enough of this ill-omened birds, and rushing past them headed for another of the skeletal warriors, but the hem of the bird-dress whipped past him and he felt the many tinny little pecks on his face and shoulder.  Even as his hammer blows drove the undead thing back on the defensive, he noticed that while the birds’ wounds seemed very small, they seemed to have caused an unusually large amount of blood to go slipping down beneath his chain shirt.

“Someone get the bird-thing!” he cried out, even as he side-stepped the sword blow of his opponent, and it stepped oddly upon a stone and its ankle snapped like twig, falling awkwardly.

As it struggled to stand, it came up right into another blow from the friar’s hammer.  It’s helmet sung out with a tuneful clang, as it fell again, but it rolled deftly away from a follow-up attack, moving unusually fluidly for thing made of bones.

Beorth shouted with satisfaction, as he cut the head off of his own opponent and it crumbled into a pile of rusted armor, but Kazrack was holding off, cautiously remaining out of the reaching of the dancing and flying bird-form looking for a way to harm it. Derek sent arrows through the formation to no effect.

Kazrack continued to remain clear of the birds, while Ratchis smashed his foe into pieces, only to feel the pecking of birds again.  Martin cried out, as he stepped forward to cast a _color spray_ on the birds, only to have it do no effect, and feel another swirl of birds strike him.  Blood spurt from both the half-orc and the watch-mage as if their skin were the birds had pecked them had become a sieve. (1)

“Natan-Ahb, protect me from those who you have found wanting!” Kazrack prayed, casting _protection from evil_ on himself, before heading in to deal with the bird threat.

The whirling ‘dress’ had a broad reach, and the dwarf grimaced as he felt the thing peck at him painfully, but he swung his halberd wide and felt like he hit the thing several times.  He stepped back to safety, his pole arm a blur around him to fend off the birds, and saw several of the tiny creatures dead on the rocky ground.  

Derek dropped his bow and brandishing his battle axe charged at the remaining armored skeleton.  It side-stepped the young warrior’s attack and two bolts of black energy crackle as the struck him. 

Beorth thought the bird-thing was distracted by Kazrack, and charged in with his sword swinging, but he was wrong and though he was able to cut down a few of the birds, he felt his face burn as he was pecked like sleet whipped in the rain. (2) The paladin was amazed at how the monster was able to behave as if it had one brain, and yet many brains, coordinating its attacks with such speed and surety. 

It whipped out again, and again Kazrack and Beorth swung their weapons wildly in a futile attempt to ward off the tiny birds, that found their was easily through the defense.

Ratchis joined the fray against the formation of birds, and a dozen birds fell, but he collected more tiny bloody wounds to go along with those he already had.

“_Lentus!_ Martin chanted, but spells did not seem to want to effect the thing. (3)

The birds suddenly dispersed flying in all directions.  Martin allowed himself a sigh of relief, thinking they were fleeing, but then cut it short.  The birds merely reformed nearly instanteously 40 feet away to badger Derek, as he struggled with the remaining of the undead warriors.

Ratchis charged after it, hoping to avoid the birds and finish the armored skeleton so that the party could concentrate on the bird-monster, but he was wrong.  The woman made of birds danced in his direction and he felt a plethora of pecks that drove him to the ground bleeding.

Unsure of what else to do, Martin grabbed a brand from the campfire, and moved cautiously towards the birds.

Kazrack and Beorth hurried to catch up with the birds.  Kazrack pressed his attack, and more of the whippoorwills fell broken and bloody to the ground.  Seeing their small crushed forms littering the  site of the battlefield, it was hard to believe that moments before they had been attacking viciously. 

Beorth knelt beside Ratchis’ bleeding form and laid a hand upon his forehead, “Anubis, please bring life to this follower of Nephthys so that he may free the souls of these fallen creatures.

The half-orc stirred.

Derek tumbled away from the birds, and around behind his foe, leaping to his feet and bringing his axe down to cleave its helmet, and the skull beneath, in half.  It crumbled; the armor suddenly rusting as if it were hundreds of years old, and the bones becoming nothing but dust.

Again the birds, dispersed, and this time reformed in their dancing form to assault Martin.  He waved the torch before him pathetically, and then put his arms before his face, the sound of wings fluttering about him.  When the flurry of birds moved away to dive at Beorth once again, the watch-mage was on the ground bleeding. 

Beorth impaled several of the birds on his sword, even as Kazrack sent a dozen more to flop about on the ground, as if dying broke whatever spell was upon them.   Derek brought some down as well.

As suddenly as they had arrived the few birds left flying off confused.

“Wow, those were some bad birds,” Thomas chittered in Martin’s mind, when the watch-mage was awakened by the healing miracles of Kazrack’s gods.  “Are you okay?  I can feel it when that happens to you.”

“So can I,” Martin thought back to his familiar, wryly. 

“This place is too dangerous to rest at and too dangerous to continue on,” Ratchis said, after he had closed some more of his wounds.

“Well, we are all too injured to risk moving, so we’ll just have to trust to providence,” Kazrack said.

”But what about tomorrow?” Ratchis asked, looking around, worried the birds might return.

“Tomorrow we move on, ready or not,” Kazrack replied

“We are too weak,” Ratchis said.

“We have little choice,” Beorth said, grimly.

“And we cannot go back to those broken lands, what if we encounter another one of those creatures that killed Jeremy?” Kazrack commented.

It was agreed that they would spend the night there and then decide what to do in the morning.  Kazrack took the first watch, and after a few hours, he woke Derek.

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

The night was dark, and while they had a very small fire going, it gave off little light and the looming black rocks cast shadows towards the canyon wall, giving the desolate area seem all the more gloomy. 

The fire crackled, and the sticks’ falling was the only sound to be heard, but Derek’s keen ears perked up.  For a moment he thought he heard a footfall that echoed the fire’s cracking.   He cocked his head to listen. Nothing.  He stepped over to the north side of the camp, where he thought he heard the sound and crept about the rock.  There was but the slightest sliver of moonlight, and he thought he spied a mark in the dirt, but he could not be sure.  He crept towards it.

Long moments passed as he moved forward, and he thought he heard it again, as if someone was using the arrhythmic punctuation of the fire to cover their steps through the craggy rock.   There was a sound over by the shadowy corner where Martin slept on the other side of the camp.   Derek hefted his battleaxe and hurried over there, and then he heard it clearly.  Someone was hurrying away from the rocks towards the canyon wall.  Derek leapt atop a rock to get a better view and could see a robed figure disappear into the darkness.

Derek awoke Ratchis, who immediately took to waking everyone.

“Someone has been in our camp!” the half-orc cried, scowling at Derek, who scowled back.  “Everyone look through your stuff and see if anything is missing.”

The half-orc moved about the camp, moving away from the fire to use his darkvision to get a better view of whatever footprints there might be around.

“My spellbooks are gone!” Martin cried out with horror.

‘Thieves!” Kazrack spat.

Ratchis reported a pair of sandaled tracks that had come through the rocks and the around the south side of the camp.

“Monks!” Kazrack spat.

“Are all your books gone?” Beorth asked the mage.

“Only two, but they were my two most important and commonly used ones,” Martin said, his voice becoming thin and reedy with grief.  “There were some of those books we recovered from the Necropolis in that bag as well.”

“Whoever it was, it was a big man, or at least they had very large feet,” Ratchis said, shrugging his shoulders.

“My best spells are gone!” Martin moaned, plopping down on the ground.  Thomas crawled out from the mage’s bedroll and climbed up to nuzzle his master’s neck to comfort him.

“Don’t you have them memorized yet?  You read them everyday!” Ratchis said, annoyed with Martin’s attitude.

“That’s not how it works,” Martin sulked.

“I guess that settles the question of whether to move on in the morning,” Kazrack said.  “The longer we wait the further away the thief will get.”

Ratchis nodded.

“What’s the point?  I’m useless now,” Martin whined.

“You know what Jeremy would have said?” Derek said, cracking a smile.  “He’d say, ‘Come on Martin, we all know you were useless all along!’”

No one laughed.  


Osilem, the 10th of Sek – 565 H.E.

The morning found the Fearless Manticore Killers following Ratchis from a safe distance as he follwed the sandal tracks south from the outcroppings to where the canyon wall was dotted with tall stone spires.  The half-orc wore no armor in case he had to sneak up on someone, or climb, instead Martin had cast _mage armor_ on him, one of the few spells found in another of his smaller traveling spellbooks.

The watch-mage was sullen, and did not respond readily to what anyone said to him.  Derek’s guilt over having failed at his watch, was balance out by his contempt for Martin’s reaction to having lost some material goods, when they had so recently lost a bosom companion.

Whoever had snuck into the camp the night before was strong and agile.  Ratchis followed the sandaled track as it easily vaulted over stone, and disappeared at a tall cliff.  He climbed up to follow and found it again above, calling the others to follow him with a gesture.  These cliffs and spires were of various heights though they all towered over the base of the canyon wall.  Beyond they could see the open area where the Pit of Bones must be.

The thief had leapt from spire to plateau to spire with great deftness.  Ratchis was not as confident of his own ability, and tying a rope around his waist, he handed the other end to the rest of the party to hold.  He vaulted into the air, but came down shirt slamming into the rock face with a grunt and then falling only to have the descent arrested by the rope.  HE jerked painfully for a moment, and then the others pulled him up.

He tried again, and this time his fingers grazed the edge, but he still fell.

Trying a different tack, he flung a grappling hook out to the spire.  The metal hook scraped against the spire edge, but fell off.

Deciding it was futile, the party decided to back track and see if the trail could be found further ahead on ground level.  It did not seem to much of a leap of logic to assume that whoever it was had headed to the Pit of Bones. 

As they climbed down, Derek spotted a figure crouched on a distant spire looking down into the Pit.  Whoever that was would have a much better view of what was within.  It was hard to make the details, but it seemed to be a tall lanky humanoid shape.

“Tanweil?” Beorth asked.

“Isis,” Martin swore.  “I hope not.”

An hour late the party marched along a narrow crevasse in the canyon walls towards the Pit of Bones.  Ratchis looked and found several sets of tracks had passed through here, sandals, and boots of both gnomish and human size.  They seemed to go in both directions.  

The party also spied several more crevasses that seemed to descend back into the broken land they had emerged from two days before. Obviously, there was more than one route to and from the Pit.

As they drew closer to the Pit they could see it was immense.  It arced, and was narrower and deeper at the end closer to them.  It was over two hundred feet long, and at the broader and shallower end it was over sixty feet across.  The pit looked like it had been excavated from some collapsed area that was even larger.  The perimeter was littered with great slabs of cut stone, and other rough-hewn natural rock walls.  The air was dry, and the ground a fine powdery dust that was white in many places, as if bone-meal had been ground down and mixed in with the earth itself.  Pieces of bone, and fragments of armor and other artifacts of what had once been a great citadel could be seen half-buried in the tiered pit wall, but the bottom could not be seen.

It was decided that Martin would cast _Invisibility_ on Ratchis and he would scout ahead to see what could be seen.  He cast it grudgingly, as it was the only one he had prepared a few days before, and now the spellbook that allowed him to prepare it once again was gone.

As Ratchis hurried off before the spell would run out, Derek called to his companions.

“Hey, there’s a ram out there,” Derek said, point to a plateau above the Pit of Bones, but on the other side. “It is huge and golden.”

The others squinted to see it, but it was more of a big golden blur to their untrained eyes. (4)

“Is it that same ram I was told of?  The one we fought the monks to free?” Beorth asked, his voice not hiding his puzzlement and curiosity.

“It must be,” Martin replied, letting his wonder at the coincidence cut through his woe for the first time today.  “There cannot be two rams like that.  It must have come to help you Beorth, because this place would be dangerous for it, if those monks are about.” (5)

“It could be here to fight evil on its own,” Beorth suggested.

“It had some kind of bond with you,” Martin explained.  “There were times that you could see it, but others could not.”

“I do not remember,” the stoic paladin said, and Martin wondered how the ghost-hunter kept from giving into despair.

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

The party’s shadows had hardly moved when they hear Ratchis hiss to them as he returned.

“There are three men, dressed as monks down in the pit,” he said, his voice coming from thin-air.  “We were right, the pit is deeper on one end, but there are like plateaus dug out to create levels.  They must have been digging at this thing for years.   They have a camp down there, and a fire, and there is rope ladder from the far side of the pit down to near where they are.  There is an entrance or something they’ve uncovered, like a trapdoor to a chamber below.   It is sealed off by some wooden planks with a rock atop it.  Oh, and there are piles of bones and other things dug up laid on tarps, like they’ve been exhuming bodies.  Oh, and”

“Does Anubis allow that kind thing?” Derek looked to Beorth, but the paladin could only shrug.

“I think there is special dispensation for monks of Anubis to move bodies in certain cases,” Martin speculated.  “I mean there must be, right?”

“I will go and talk with them,” Beorth said.

“I say we take them out first and talk later,” Ratchis said.  “I don’t trust these monks and they may try to stop us from doing what we came here to do, even if the yare doing for what they think are the right reasons.  We have to enter that place and find the map.”

“And we will, one way or another,” Beorth said.  “But let us try my way first.  If my words do not succeed, then my staff shall have to be the means to show them the error of their ways, but I want to try parley first.”

The others were swayed by the charismatic holy warrior’s words (6), but Ratchis would remain invisible to be an ace in the hole if things went awry.

“Morning, Brother! It is I Beorth!” Beorth came openly around the pit, with Martin, Kazrack and Derek walking together about ten feet behind him.

The monks did not seem surprised to see them there.

“Yes, Beorth!” said a short stocky monk, with large calloused hands.  He stood with those hands as fists against his thighs. Beorth had met him before outside of the Circle of Thorns, but of course, he did not remember, but Martin immediately recognized him.  He was called Lomax.  He wore the black robes and brown tunic of a Monk of Anubis, and bore no weapon.

The other two monks looked younger, one had a weaselly and pimpled look to him, and swollen osiris’ apple. (7)  His head was shaved like the others, but was misshapen.  He was called Thosir.  The other was small and wiry-looking, his robes were disheveled, and wore a permanent frown.  He was called Allas, and like Lomax had the olive-coloration of a Herman-Lander.

“May I come down?” Beorth asked, gesturing to the rope ladder that was bound to a stone shaped like an immense gray dewdrop.

“I see you are still with your companions,” Lomax’s tone seemed to say that he disapproved, but Beorth ignored it.  He grabbed the rope ladder and quickly climbed down.  

The camp was in an area several more feet deeper than the majority of the bottom of this part of the pit.   Thosir stood down there, by where the wooden planks were.

“Yes, we have traveled here because we need to find something hidden here,” Beorth said.

“Of course you do,” Lomax nodded, an easy smile coming to his full lips.

“Perhaps we are looking for the same thing?” Beorth offered.

“Perhaps, but we have only come her to disinter the dead and bring them to where they can be buried in a sacred place, and to insure any relics are kept safe from the wrong hands,” Lomax said. “What is it _you_ seek?”

“Simple knowledge,” Beorth replied.  “And to see that the dead here are laid to rest.”

“I thought you might be off somewhere trying to correct your mistake,” Lomax said.

“My mistake?”

“Because of you, a malignant creature still roams,” the monk said.

“It is not malignant.  I know its true nature,” Beorth said,

“So you say,” Lomax said.  “But I fear Master Hamfast knows more of these matters than you do.” (8)

There was a long silence, and Kazrack paused at the top of the ladder, wondering if he should come down, as he did not want to provoke the monks unduly and ruin his companion’s attempt at parley.

“Even if it is a good creature,” Lomax began.  “Would you allow it to live if you knew its continued existence would allow an even greater evil creature into this world?”

“What knowledge do you possess of an evil creature coming into this world,” Beorth thought he might be on to something.

“So has my master, Hamfast, told me,” Lomax replied.  “His word is enough.”

Beorth inquired about the remains, and Lomax explained that they planned to bury them all in mass grave once more had been uncovered.

“I would study those remains,” Kazrack called down.  “May I approach?”

Lomax looked at his two underlings, as if he could talk to them with his eyes alone, and then gestured for the dwarf to come down.  

“Psst! – Follow me down,” Kazrack whispered to Ratchis, hoping he was nearby.  He hoped that if they climbed down at the same time the monks would not notice the rope jerking.

“Where is Master Hamfast now?” Beorth asked.

“He is below with more of the brothers,” Lomax pointed to the wooden boards.  “Seeking out more bodies and whatever relics are to be saved.”

“Do you know when they shall return?”

“When they succeed.”

“Perhaps we might descend and aid them,” Beorth suggested.

“It is too dangerous,” Lomax replied, his face remained impassive, no matter what he said.

“We have faced danger before.  I am not afraid.”

“You should be,” There was a hint of suppressed smile.

Kazrack was half-way down, when the rope jerked violently, as Ratchis lost his footing above him and dangling for a second fell hard on the stone below.

He quickly go up and hurried over to where rough-hewn step lead to the plateau below where the bones were piled.

“’What was that?” Lomax cried, and the other two monks slipped into fighting stances, cautious.  They squinted at the bottom of the rope, and looked around.

“Ratchis!  Where are you?  Making your presence known!” Beorth called out.

The half-orc groaned with disapproval.

“I was wondering where the half-breed might be,” Lomax commented.

“I’m on the steps!” Ratchis called back.

“I did not see him go by,” Lomax arched an eyebrow.  “I hope you are not attempting some deception to get past us and below.  We are being civil and allowing you into our camp even though our agendas might be at odds.  I hope this will not come to blows…unless violence is all you know, Beorth?”

Kazrack made it to the bottom, and Martin followed suit, but as Derek was not even a fourth of the way down the it suddenly jerked violently and fraying at the top, and he came tumbling down the nearly 100’ foot ladder.

He landed with a cloud of dust and the wind was knocked out of him.

Kazrack looked up and saw a figure duck behind the stone above, where the rope had been fastened.

“There is someone above by the stone!” he cried out. Pointing up, and then he jumped down to where the camp was.

“Master dwarf!  What are you doing!” Lomax demanded. 

“Whoever’s there has a bow!” Ratchis called out from his still invisible form, he had seen the robed figure as well.

Martin followed Kazrack down, and put his back to the wall.

“Why is the half-orc invisible?  Is this some kind of trick,” Lomax’s words betrayed anger.

“Beorth was forthright with it, and it is a spell that is not easily dismissed,” Ratchi said, and then looked up to where the hidden figure was. “And who are you stranger?”

Martin poked his head over the edge to look to see if any of the monks’ feet were unusually large, but slapping himself on the forehead, turned to see a pile of packs by the bedrolls, only fifteen feet away.

“We asked Ratchis to approach in secret because we were not sure what enemy we faced,” Beorth tried to explain.

Kazrack called up to the mysterious figure as well, “You! Behind the pillar!  Why do you attack us?  Come out from behind that stone, lest our we send our invisible companion to force you out!”

Derek took that as an indication as to how the parley was going to go, and drew his bow, putting an arrow to it.

Allas began to wave his arms back in forth before him, over where he heard Ratchis climb back up on to the upper plateau of the pit bottom.

“Yes, come out and show yourself,” Lomax called to the hidden figure.

The figure made a run for it.  There was a flash of orange skin behind a silver and blue cloak.  Derek stepped away from the wall and let an arrow fly.

There was a flash of blood as it graced the figure, before it rushed out of view with incredible speed.

“Come back!  We would speak to you!  We will hold our attack!” Kazrack called up, frowning at Derek.

Allas gave up looking for Ratchis and began to walk over with purpose towards Derek.

*To be continued. . .*

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

*Notes*

(1) *DM’s Note:* The bird creature, which was a variant on the cifal, had a _wounding_ ability, that caused hits to bleed at the rate of an extra hit point per round each. 

(2) *DM’s Note:* The cifal had the combat reflexes feat, so was able to take more than one attack of opportunity a round, as the party found out the hard way.

(3) *DM’s Note:* Having a hivemind, it was immune to mind-effecting spells.

(4) *DM’s Note:* Derek’s spot score is twice that of the next highest in the party.

(5) The monks the party encountered in Session #31 said the ram was all that remained of an ancient divine aspect that sought to regain its godhood, and that once been an ally of Set.  Beorth believed the ram was to be his holy mount, and was not evil at all.

(6) *DM’s Note:*  I’ve always loved how Brian plays off Beorth’s charisma.  The stoic, plain-spoken paladin often comes off as pessimistic, but he words are always delivered in that way you just _believe_ him because he believes in his god and thus, in himself.  This became especially apparent after he lost his memory.  There was no canon, scholarly interpretations or lessons to fall back on just pure faith that his natural demeanor and way of looking at things was holy and was what Anubis would will because it was the parallel of a divine will in mortal form that created a harmony that made his anointment a blessing.

(7) i.e. _Adam’s Apple_.

(8) Beorth met Master Hamfast in the Interlude at the start of Book II: Catching the Spark (part II); just before Session #25.


----------



## handforged

What book is the cifal in?  I really liked that creature and the way it formed from the whipporwills.  Things are again getting twisted, as plots collide.  I wonder what Martin will do without the gnomes to replenish his spell supply.

Your writing is definitely an inspiration for imagination.  I could see the bird-dress and the pit vividly.  Can't wait to see what's next.

~hf


----------



## Manzanita

Glad to see the monks again.  I hope Beorth gets a mount.


----------



## el-remmen

handforged said:
			
		

> What book is the cifal in?  I really liked that creature and the way it formed from the whipporwills.  Things are again getting twisted, as plots collide.  I wonder what Martin will do without the gnomes to replenish his spell supply.




It is in the original 1E Fiend Folio.  I don't know if it was converted anywhere else - b/c I converted it myself and added some variations.  I could see if I could find the stats on it and post them. . . But don't hold your breath - I am going away on vacation for a week so it won't be 'til at least after then.



			
				handforged said:
			
		

> Your writing is definitely an inspiration for imagination.  I could see the bird-dress and the pit vividly.  Can't wait to see what's next.
> 
> ~hf




Thank you.


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

Just a bump, nothing to see here- move along.


----------



## Manzanita

If we're going to be catching up with those fearless Manticore killers, who meet every other week, I understand, we'll be needing an update soon.  I'm looking forward to it.  And hey, isn't the necropolis of Doom now destroyed? Are we in Part III yet?


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> If we're going to be catching up with those fearless Manticore killers, who meet every other week, I understand, we'll be needing an update soon.  I'm looking forward to it.
> 
> And hey, isn't the necropolis of Doom now destroyed? Are we in Part III yet?




I was up late last night working on the next installment, but still did not get to finish it.  However, I will soon.

Let's call this part 2.5  ~ I've decided that even in the present time in the campaign they are not quite yet in Book III: Into the Fire.


----------



## mmu1

Manzanita said:
			
		

> If we're going to be catching up with those fearless Manticore killers, who meet every other week, I understand, we'll be needing an update soon.  I'm looking forward to it.  And hey, isn't the necropolis of Doom now destroyed? Are we in Part III yet?




Hah. My character probably isn't even going to show up in these story hours for at least another six months... *sigh*


----------



## el-remmen

*End of Session #55*

*Session #55 (part ii)*

“Yes, this must be some other force seeking entrance here,” Beorth attempted.  The monk named Allas merely shrugged, but continued towards Derek to try to keep him from firing more arrows.

“I think our thief found us again,” Kazrack said, of the figure that had fled.

”Thief? Whatever do you mean?” Lomax asked.

“Some of our goods were stolen in the night,” Martin replied for the group, stopping himself from searching through the monks’ packs.  The chance for peaceful resolution seemed to increase again.

“Well, be that as it may now that this _thief_ has been spotted do you think he will go away, or that that he will return?” Lomax asked.

“He probably seeks the same knowledge we all do,” Beorth said.  “He will return.”

“Shall we go track him down?” Kazrack asked.

“We cannot leave our posts, but you may do as you please,” Lomax said, his body was tense and ready to spring.  “We cannot risk your invisible friend slipping below while we are made to think he has left with you.”

“D’nar (1), come closer,” Kazrack called to Ratchis.

“I am fine where I am,” the half-orc called from his spot between the ledge down to the lower level, and the pit the camp was made in.

Allas turned back from Derek, and made a grab in Ratchis’ direction, but totally missed.

Before anyone could react to this, Derek cried out as an arrow clipped his shoulder from eastern side of the pit, where the tall ravine walls were.   Everyone looked up instead, and saw that the figure that had cut the rope before had moved to the other side of the pit.  It was tall humanoid of some kind, with the goblinoid features prominent snout, with thin lips, large eyes and large canines, and a swarthy orange pallor.  Outfitted in black, they could see this monk used a recurved longbow, and the slightest swell on its chest showed it to be a female of whatever race she was, for she was nearly six-feet tall and as broad as Ratchis, but as her hood fell away they could see she had one tail of braided blue-white hair tucked behind one pointed ear. (2)

Allas shrugged again, and continued to swing his arms before him, looking for Ratchis.  Derek spun around and fired an arrow back at the bizarre monk-monster-woman, but she ducked behind a protruding rock, only to emerge from the other side and send two more arrow at Derek, who leapt backward, and cursed, feeling the bite of both.  This monk was an excellent archer.

Martin popped back up to the upper level away from the camp, craning his neck to see who was firing the arrows.

“You are vulnerable up here,” Lomax warned the watch-mage.  “Get back down.”

Martin hopped back down.  “Who is it? What is it?” he asked.

Thosir came running at Derek, and tried to shove him forcefully off the ledge to the next one ten feet below, but the young woodsman side-stepped, but this left Beorth as the only open shot for the archer above, and he winced as he felt the bite of the broad steel-headed arrows.

Undaunted by the arrows, Kazrack scrambled up to the main plateau just in time to see Thosir try to push Derek.  “We are betrayed!” he cried, and took a hard chop at Allas.  The monk sucked in air through his teeth, as blood cascaded down his leg.  He whipped around and took a defensive position. “Why did you betray us?”

“Why did you attack me?” His eyes growing wide, as he watched for another attack from the dwarf.

Lomax leapt down to martin, putting space between himself and the attack dwarf. “You must stop your dwarven friend,” the monk said in a convincing voice. (3)  “He is making a mistake.”

“Kazrack!   Stop!  What are you doing?” Martin popped up over the edge of the depression and looked to his dwarven companion.  “You are making a mistake.”

Allas backed away from Kazrack cautiously, and the dwarf hesitated for a moment, but Beorth did not.

“Why do you attack my friend?” Beorth asked Thosir, with anger in his voice.  He drew his sword, swung with all his might.  The monk reached up and knocked the blade out of alignment with an open palm, side-stepping the blow, but his hand still caught the edge and blood flowed freely down his forearm and splattered from his elbow.

“I was only trying to push him out of the way of the arrows,” Thosir replied calmly, but the veins beneath his dimpled and misshapen scalp twitched.  “But now I am forced to defend myself.”

The monk feigned a punch, but then kicked out down and low, driving his heel into Beorth’s knee with a great strength.  The paladin hobbled back, and the monk drew away as well.  Beorth got the impression that he had purposefully struck him in a painful, but not vital, spot. (4)

Beorth struggled to not let his knee give way, and felt the bite of two more arrows.  Blood flowed over his tunic, and shone on his armor in the glare of the afternoon sun disappearing behind the canyon.

Kazrack went charging at Thosir, and the monk whirled around and grunted, as he was cut deeply.

Martin leapt up and over to Kazrack and speaking an arcane word tossed some colored sand Kazrack’s way, and a spray of rainbow lights washed over his companion.

“Martin, stop it!” the dwarf cursed.  “I am still in the way!”

Ratchis, who had been climbing out of the great pit altogether to get at the archer, decided he was needed below, and dropped on Allas who seemed ready to join the fray again.  The monk collapsed under the great weight of the half-orc driving him into the packed earth.  Ratchis landed painfully on his own shoulder, but rolled away. 

Allas lay there bleeding from his head and nose, unconscious.  Ratchis was now visible.

Happy for the distraction Kazrack became, Beorth was able to lay a hand upon his chest and call out to Anubis to close some of his wounds.  However, he made himself a stationary target and felt the bite of another arrow.  Reflexively, he ducked and a second arrow struck Derek in the chest, and the young ranger fell down bleeding to death.

Thosir took the moment of distraction to duck his head down and turn to rush at Beorth, but Kazrack swung his halberd around cleaved into the monk’s calf.  Thosir fell bleeding out.

“Martin, Come! Levitate me up to the archer so I might cut her down from her perch,” Kazrack called to the watch-mage.  Martin hurried over, but instead of casting a spell, he tried to rip the halberd from Kazrack’s grasp.

“This is a mistake!” Martin said.  Kazrack pulled it back out of the mage’s weak grip easily.

Ratchis made it to his feet, and looked up only to see Lomax coming down on him, with a great flying kick.  The hard heel of the monk’s foot slammed Ratchis’ chin and cut open his lip, it immediately swelled and ran with blood.  He felt a tooth crack and break apart upon his tongue, and the bruise grow, as all the capillaries burst beneath his left eye. 

“If you must be foes, then worthy foes you be, “ Lomax said.  “I am unafraid to go to Anubis’ Realm.  Are you?”

Ratchis staggered back and called to Nephthys to close his wound, as he dodged wildly to avoid Lomax’s flurry of blows.  

“Kazrack, over here!” he called to his friend for aid, seeing the dwarf had dispatched another of the monks.

Kazrack moved to help Ratchis, but Martin leapt to grapple him and hold him back.  The dwarf simply spun around and struck the watch-mage across the face with the shaft of his pole arm.

“Cut it out!” the dwarf yelled at the mage, and then turned around marching towards Ratchis and Lomax.  “I think Martin is ensorcelled.”

The dwarf swung his halberd at the monk’s legs, and Lomax attempted to jump over it, but Kazrack clipped his foot.  There was a gush of blood and the monk landed on his side.  The monk kicked his legs out in front of him and rolled up to a sitting position, and then continued to spin his body, until he was suddenly turned upright, keeping blows from both his foes at bay.  He slammed his foot into Kazrack’s lower abdomen.  The dwarf grunted in pain, and then felt Martin futilely grabbing at him from behind.  

The watch-mage’s lip was split as well.

Lomax’s spinning did not deter Ratchis and spitting on his hands he gripped his warhammer and brought it down on the monk twice.  Lomax staggered and felt the bite of Kazrack’s halberd.  The monk fell, and this time did not get back up.

Beorth lay a hand on Derek and whispered to Anubis.  Stabilized, Beorth was now able to heft his companion over his shoulder and move toward the camp.

Ratchis immediately dropped his hammer and began returning arrows at the strange hobgoblin monk, as she appeared just long enough to send two arrows towards him.  The fell just short of him.

“Martin, levitate me up there, and the bind your _friends_, the monks,” Kazrack said, pushing the mage away from him a bit.

“You can’t move in any direction but up an down with levitate,” Ratchis said.  “It won’t work.”

“I think the only safety lies in the pit,” Beorth said, hustling past them with Derek, and moving around the camp towards the boarded up trapdoor.  He laid Derek down gently and then leapt down to that lower level.

Kazrack grunted, and laid a finger on Lomax’s forehead.  “Rivkanal, please stop our foe’s bleeding.”

Suddenly, Martin slapped his own forehead in dismay, “…Oh, no, not again!”

“Martin!  I need help getting the body down,” Beorth called from over by the boards, where he was pushing the heavy rock off.

“We can’t go down there in the state we’re in,” Ratchis said. “We don’t know what is down there.  We’ll search the bags and see if Martin’s thing are here.”

Kazrack walked over and stabilized Thosir as well, but he was distracted craning his head to get a view of the archer.  The arrows had stopped coming down, and no sign had been seen of the bizarre monk from behind the large stone she had fired from.

“I’m afraid we will fall to this archer,” Beorth said, gently putting his hands beneath Derek’s shoulders, while Martin grabbed the boy’s feet.  The brought him down to the camp level of the pit.

Ratchis came down into the camp, and started kicking at the monk’s bags, taking a cursory look at what might be there, while pointing a heavy crossbow up to where he had last seen the archer.

Martin crawled over to look at the packs more carefully, and once they were convinced the archer had left Ratchis and Kazrack collected the monks and laid them out on their bedrolls.

“We have no other choice but to go down there now,” Beorth said, pulling up the planks.  “We are too exposed here. There is no other way.”

*End of Session #55* 

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

*Notes*:

(1)	D’nar, which means ‘uncut gem stone’, is Kazrack’s name for Ratchis in dwarven.

(2)	This monk is a hobgoblin.  Hobgoblins were long ago made extinct in Derome-Delem and the islands of Herman Land.  They can still be found in great numbers in the west in Thricia and El Reino Unido de Las Familias Superiores, and in smaller groups in the Black Islands and Neergaard to the east.

(3)	*DM’s Note:* This was a _suggestion_.

(4)	*DM’s Note:* He dealt subdual damage.


----------



## el-remmen

mmu1 said:
			
		

> Hah. My character probably isn't even going to show up in these story hours for at least another six months... *sigh*




If you're lucky. . .  Jeremy died in June of 2003, that was only 2 sessions ago in the story hour; so that is what? 9 months?

Yep, something like that.

EDIT: I looked back.  It was April 2003.  So, let's make that more like 11 months.


----------



## handforged

Great combat description.  It seems like Martin has a pretty bad will save for a wizard.  Thank you for the update.

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

handforged said:
			
		

> Great combat description.  It seems like Martin has a pretty bad will save for a wizard.  Thank you for the update.
> 
> ~hf




Actually he has a pretty good Will save, his player just rolls horribly.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #56*

“Beorth, stop!” Ratchis yelled to the paladin, and Kazrack echoed him.  “Beorth, we cannot just go down there.”

“Why not?” There was only one more boards to be removed and the paladin, blood on his face and hands, held it.

“We cannot drag Derek down there in his state,” Ratchis reasoned.  “There could be something worse down there.”

The three of them began to debate the matter in earnest.  Kazrack wanted to go after the archer-monk.  Beorth wanted to immediately go below.  Ratchis felt they should gather their strength and then retreat to some place of relative safety to rest.  Martin expressed no opinion, arguing against all reasoning for whichever position, while frantically going through the monks’ camp for his spellbooks.

Finally, Kazrak sighed, “Whichever way we go we will be beset with danger, so we might as well go down.”

Ratchis grunted his disapproval.  “We’ll leave the monks where they are.  If that other monk is in league with them she’ll come and take them or whatever.  We’ll leave them food, but take their weapons.”

“Agreed,” said Beorth.

“I found them!” Martin cried, and hugged a book to his chest.

“Hoorah!” said Thomas mentally.

There was a spiral staircase made of great stones held up by a metal frame going down into the darkness.  The metal was warped and the stones cracked.  The climb down looked precarious.  Kazrack volunteered to go down first and check it out.  They tied a rope about his waist, and down he went, while Beorth and Ratchis held the other end.  Martin stood watch.  He still held his books in his arms.

The stairs groaned in protest as the dwarf made his careful descent. He was jolted to one side and braced himself to fall, as one of the steps beneath him cracked, and sent up a plume of dust.  But he did not fall.   He could see that at one time the stairs had been of excellent craftsmanship, but years of moisture and pressure from above had twisted the metal and cracked the stone.

The open steps led down to a great round room, that was bi-leveled by a series of stone platforms that starred out from the center, out to open spaces in the wall, where brown rubble had tumbled through.  The stone of the ramp and the walls were all blackened and in some places even disfigured.  Scorched. The real floor was another twelve feet below.  Looking around, Kazrack could see that the rubble partially obscured rotten ballistae, with their metal rivets corroded.  The dwarf’s eyes widened with sudden understanding. 

The room he was standing in was an enclosed parapet.  The rubble had come through the great windows where the ballistae had been stationed.   This was the top-most level of the citadel and the place itself had fallen nearly whole into a crevasse that had then filled in with broken rock from the surrounding area.  It was as if the earth itself had swallowed the whole building.

Kazrack came around the steps and could see a gap in a ramp to his left that might have been another spiral staircase down to the lower level.  He tugged for more slack from the rope.

“You okay down there?” Ratchis called down.  His gruff voices echoed in the great round chamber, that aside from the rubble seemed unchanged.  A large portion of the area below was in total darkness, as it seemed larger than this ramped section of the chamber.

Suddenly the darkness was pierce by an orange glow.  A nearly transparent sheet of flame burst into being and circles the circumference of the room, and then split into several more, spinning around, each growing, as if to make a ring of flame.

“What is that?  What’s going on?” Ratchis called down, seeing the fiery light come up through the trapdoor.  

Kazrack began to back away towards the steps. “I’m coming back up!”

Beorth and Kazrack began to pull on the rope with all their might, jerking Kazrack off his feet.  HE scrambled to get back up as they dragged him along bodily.   He managed to regain his footing, but before he could come around the steps he heard a soft pop.

Above Beorth and Ratchis fell back as the rope gave way, burned through in the explosion.  Soot came flying up out of the hole.

“Kazrack!  Do you hear me?” Beorth called down. He began to clang noisily down the steps.   “Sit tight!  We’ll come and get you!”  

He swayed in place for a moment.

Kazrack sat up singed and dazed.  He had fallen again, and rolled into a ball, and was not sure if he had blacked out or not.  The world was a dull hum, and he could hear Beorth calling indecipherably from a great distance.  He patted out flame by his elbow, and quickly examined his beard to make sure the tangled thing was still there.

The dwarf jumped to his feet and waved Beorth back.  “Get back up the stairs!  Get out of here!”

Martin ran over to the hole with a jug of water he grabbed from among the monk’s things.    Below Beorth looked around at the wavering red and orange light that was coming off the walls.  The corroded metal of tracks the ballistae seemed to rest on gleamed.  

Kazrack allowed his mind to wander a moment when he recognized how the great weapon was bolted to a frame, and chains and weights must have been used, including dwarves at several stations to target it more precisely.  He could see the siege weapons were scorched as well.  There must have been a great fire here once that burned hot and fast and then was put out just as quickly, he thought.  

A clatter of bones against stone brought him out of his reverie.  He reached the stairs, but Beorth had not ascended.

“My god’s energy will save us!” the paladin cried.  Confused, Kazrack looked up and could see that the sheets of flame trailed after bones that flew through the air at great speed.   Sometimes colliding with the ramp and running across them to create the clatter, making the already blackened stone to glow red.    

Suddenly, the bones came flying together with great speed, and the sheets of surrounded the humanoid form.  The mantle of fire, seemed to peel back from the skull, and as it did sinew, flesh and skin seemed to spontaneously grow, as if the thing were burning backward.    Before them was a naked man, with runes burned deeply into his flesh.  His face melted off and exploded into flame again.

Its left arm seemed to shrivel up in flame, and then flick forwards sending a bolt of fire at Beorth.  

The paladin cried out to his god, and holding his sword above his head charged at the grotesque thing.

“Go down!” Martin yelled at Ratchis.  “I’ll watch Derek.  Go!”

“I’ll be back,” Ratchis said, apropos of nothing, and grabbing the jug of water he came hurrying down the steps.  It was a bad idea.  He slipped, and through his shoulder into the central pole of the steps to keep from falling, and more than half of a lower step came loose.  He grunted and continued down with more caution.

The burning man avoided blow of Beorth’s sword, by having his upper torso explode into a blaze of flaming bones that struck Beorth across the chest and face, searing him.

“You will not bend me to your will servant of Anubis!”

Beorth tried to parry the next blow, but the thing punched forward.  Beorth’s cloak caught flame, and there was a nasty burn on his neck and face.  He fell back unconscious.

“Beorth!” Kazrack cried, turning away from the steps and readying his halberd.

“Good!  More dwarves to kill!” the thing hissed, its tongue curling up into a deep red flame.  Kazrack charged and brought his axe down, but the undead thing leaped back, and smacked him with flaming bony fists.   He could feel the heat of the blow beneath his armor, as it became very hot in the less than a moment’s contact.  HE swung wildly to keep the thing at bay.

By this time, Ratchis had come down and crawled up to Beorth, as to not attract too much attention to himself as he dragged the jug of water.

He whispered to his goddess, and in less than a moment, Beorth sat up, sputtering and holding his face.  However, he did not tarry long.  He grabbed his sword and came at the creature. 

Kazrack was able to strike the skull a good blow with his halberd.  

Ratchis chucked the clay jar at the thing, and it exploded and hissed, reforming with rather less potent, now blue-tinged, flames.  The thing screeched, and Beorth took the opportunity to call to his god to smite the thing one and for all.   His blade smashed through the blazing bones, sending them flying out into flaming ring of dust.  

The thing was destroyed.

The three companions patted each other out.  

“What happened?” Martin called down into the darkness.  With the creature gone, Beorth suddenly found himself in the dark as well.

There was a whispering in dwarven below.  Only Kazrack could understand it, and he hastened the others to go back up.  

“Tender morsels,” the voice had said.

Above, Ratchis healed Beorth, and again the party fell to arguing and what to do next.

“Do you hear that down below?  That is something mumbling in the tongue of my fathers!” Kazrack was beside himself.  “I think we should go down there and destroy them right now, and then that place will be safe, and Natan-Ahb’s just will be satisfied as well.”

“Both place seem just as dangerous,” Beorth said.  “But perhaps Ratchis was right about the dangers below.  We should stay up here where we can tend to the monks while we tend our own wounds.”

“I am not tending anyone not in this group,” Ratchis barked.  “I will leave them food within reach, but if they live or die is not my concern here.  My concern is finding this map and learning where Hurgun’s Maze is.”

“When we leave them to go below we will leave them to their fates,” Beorth replied.  “But while we are here _I_ will care them.”

“I’ll help,” Martin added, weakly.

“But those abominations cannot be tolerated to exist any longer,” Kazrack insisted.  “You cannot understand them, but I can, and I say we destroy them.  They were destroyed easily enough before.”

“Except that now we are sorely wounded, Derek is unconscious, Jeremy is dead, we have a monk archer of some race or another…” Ratchis began.

“Hobgoblin,” Martin added, again weakly.  “I saw her very quickly, but it looked like a hobgoblin to me, though I’ve always learned the females of their culture are subservient to the men, certainly not monks.”

“…Waiting for a chance to kill us all,” Ratchis continued, deciding that Martin was adding nothing helpful. “And, last of all we don’t know how many there are down there, or what else there may be.”

Kazrack sighed, “We can camp on the upper part of the room; that way we will have cover from anyone coming from above, and whatever is down there won’t be able to reach us, and if they can climb up, we’ll see them way before they get to us, and we’ll have the advantage.”

“Yes, well, we mustn’t miss an opportunity for such an advantage,” Ratchis replied.

“This sarcasm you’ve developed during your time in civilization doesn’t suit you, D’nar,” Kazrack said back, coldly.

Ratchis did not flinch, “I do not trust you to spend a night down there, whenever you hear them whisper, you are as loud as an oliphaunt.”

Kazrack grunted.

“I think Kazrack’s plan has merit,” Beorth offered, but Martin shook his head in disagreement.

“How about I go down and check it out and see if I think there is good place for us to camp, and if so we will do as you and Beorth want,” Ratchis offered.

“Okay, but I will be the one to go,” Kazrack replied.

Now it was Ratchis’ turn to grunt and roll his eyes.

“You cannot understand their whispers,” Kazrack said.  “I can tell if anything they say might be helpful to us.”

“That is why you should not go,” Ratchis countered. “Nothing they can say to me can move me to be rash.  They have nothing good to say.  All that is left in their black bitter hearts is to destroy the living and make them as miserable as possible.”

Beorth nodded, “He is right, Kazrack.”

The dwarf shrugged, and then nodded.

Down went Ratchis, but he was not gone long.   

“There are too many places where something could climb up from below,” Ratchis reported.  “And the stairs are too unstable.  They may collapse if we have to retreat back up in too much of a hurry.  In fact, I am not sure they will last a few more gentle climbs up and down.”

Camp was made, and Martin crawled into the tent to get some sleep, feeling exhausted.  Derek’s unconscious form was laid within beside him.

The sun was naught more than a dim golden glow at the top lip of the pit when Beorth, Ratchis and Kazrack were about to divvy up the watches were startled by the sudden appearance of the armored skeletons like those they had fought before.  As the last light died, there they were, hissing unintelligible curses at them.

Kazrack did not hesitate, but grabbing his pouch of runestones, he called out to his gods, and one of the skeletons turned and fled.

Ratchis followed suit, but his entreaty to his goddess must have been tainted with the anger and frustration he was feeling.

Beorth cried out, as two black bolts of energy struck him.  He fell and did not get back up.

The undead things had appeared surround the camp, and Martin startled awake having heard the commotion.  He crawled out of the tent on his belly, and began to see to Beorth’s wounds, as blood seemed to be gushing from his nose.

Kazrack felt the cold touch of one of the bolts, but gritted his teeth and shook off the pain.  Ratchis charged at the one that brought down Beorth with his hammer, but the sound of metal on metal rang out, as the undead thing moved deftly to parry the blow with its long sword.  Ratchis winced, as the counter-blow grazed his knuckles as he brought his hammer down at the blade.

Again, Kazrack called out to his gods, and two more fled, following the first one as all three seemed to dematerialize into pit wall, as if suddenly ghostly.  

Roaring, Ratchis closed with the skeletal warrior.  The thing ducked and fired a black bolt of energy at point blank range, but the half-orc did not seem to notice the cold blow.  He brought his hammer down on the thing’s head, causing a huge dent in its helmet.  He could hear the sound of the crunched skull, but did not take a moment to enjoy it.  Ratchis swung his hammer across its chest and sent it flying backward, sending bone fragments in all directions, as the armor seemed to age incredible as it tumbled away.

“I told you we should go below,” Kazrack admonished as soon as the battle was done.  “Those things will only return.”

“Fine.  We’ll go down,” Ratchis said, going over to Beorth’s unconscious form, as Martin worked over him.  “But we are going from one danger to another.  And I have no more access to my goddess’ healing graces this day.”  His gaze lingered on Beorth.

“I have none as well,” Kazrack said.  “All the more reason to find ourselves a secure position below.”

Ratchis sighed, and they packed their things. 

Martin moved the boards, and below he heard some kind of echoed smack and then shuffle and a snap of something.  He shuddered.

Kazrack went down first to keep watch as the others descended.  Martin followed.  He cast _levitate_ on Beorth and awkwardly brought the paladin down, weightlessly.  It took a good long time, and he began to sweat as the metal frame of the stairs began to groan and shake.  He cursed whenever Beorth became jammed in the stairway and he had to jerk him free.  He stopped to examine the paladin’s wounds to insure they had not re-opened and then continued.  The stairs seemed to sigh in relief as he stepped off, dragging Beorth behind him.

Finally, down came Ratchis.  He had Derek over his shoulder.   The metal frame began to buckle,     and then it lurched forward suddenly, as Ratchis came around, and he instinctively drove his foot down to steady his footing, but the stone beneath gave way and he flew forward.  The steps began to collapse; stone falling on stone.

Ratchis fell fifteen feet below, but Derek was thrown from his shoulder and landed with a sickening crunch on his head and shoulder, crumbling unnaturally before falling over.  The young huntsman was spread out on the hard cold stone, his head twisted at an odd angle.

Ratchis looked up and then scrambled over to Derek.  He was dead.

“Nooooooo!” Ratchis’ voiced echoed through the great chamber, making pebbles tumble down the piles of rubble.  The last piece of stone on what had been the steps came loose and fell as well.

“Ratchis!  You said to be quiet,” Kazrack hissed.  “D’nar!   Stop!  He is gone.”

Kazrack walked over and put his hand on Ratchis’ shoulder, and looked down at Derek’s dirty face. 

Ratchis stood quickly and threw his fists into the air in frustration and anger, “This is all my fault!”  He brought his fists down on his chest with all his might, a fleck of spit bubbling out from the corner of pruned purple lips.  And then the great half-orc collapse on the ground, crying.  “All my fault…All  my fault… You arrogant bastard!”  Ratchis sat up and slammed his fist into his leg again, and then collapsed sobbing.

“Ratchis!  Ratchis, get up! This isn’t helping,” Kazrack tried, but the ranger would not respond.  Martin the Green merely stood there, by Beorth, mouth open a bit.  Whether his face expressed disbelief or numbness, Kazrack could not tell.

The dwarf steadied himself and snarled, looking over at Beorth breathing shallowly. With a ‘harumph’ he marched over to Martin.

“We’re going to have to make camp right here,” he said to the watch-mage.  “Since you don’t need much sleep, you will have to watch all night and then wake me for the final two hours.”

“I can’t do that,” Martin’s voice was raspy whisper.  He snapped his fingers and lit a torch, growing tired of the dark, that Ratchis and Kazrack could see through so easily.  

“Why not?  Just put your ring on,” Kazrack’s patience was wearing thin, but Martin’s was suddenly gone.

“Sure, just give me week,”(1) he said sarcastically, slipping the ring on.  “I will stay up an watch the best I can, regardless.”

“And if you fall asleep?”

“Then we die,” Marin snapped.  “Deal with it.”

Kazrack harrumphed again and then looked back at Ratchis who had not moved.  He got out of his armor and unrolled his bedroll, and fell into an uneasy sleep.

Martin wandered over to a rotting ballista and began picking up bit so wood, and the broken shafts of spears once meant to be projected by the half-buried machine.  He started a small fire, tossing his torch into it, and sitting to take watch.

The watch-mage thought Ratchis had fallen asleep where he was, but then he noticed the half-orc cleaning off Derek’s face, and trying to dress him for burial or a pyre.

Martin walked over.  “Go to sleep,” he said.

“Not until he’s clean,” Ratchis replied, his voice as dead as Derek was.

“How long will that take?”

“Until he’s clean,” Ratchis responded, he never looked at Martin.

With a sigh, Martin snapped his finger and then touched to Derek’s forehead.  The boy warrior was clean. (2)

“Go to sleep,” he said again. 

Ratchis frowned and complied, silently.

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

Hours passed.  Martin spent them staring into the small fire, and looking for strays bits of anything flammable to throw into it.  Sometimes he petted Thomas on the head, as his familiar slept on his shoulder.

A few times he heard shuffling below, and the hisses of the faintest whispers in a language he did not understand.  He paid them no mind.  He also spent a lot of time looking at Derek’s corpse only fifteen feet away, in a shadowy reddish light.

“I’m sorry, Derek,” Martin whispered. “Beorth’s unconscious, so we couldn’t give you final rites yet, but when he awakens, we’ll make sure its done.  I’m afraid.  More afraid than I was when we were in the Necropolis. It could have been any one of us.  Any of us could die…”

“But you’re glad it wasn’t you, right?” Derek’s voice croaked out of his dry lips as he sat up.  His face had taken a green pallor and his eyes were opened wide, black and rheumy.  His neck was still twisted in an unnatural position.  ‘Are your scared or are you relieved, Martin?” 

Derek stood up slowly, and Martin snapped out of his terror, and snatched a brand out of the fire.   Martin’s former companion grinned, malevolently, and took a step forward.

Martin met his advance, bringing the burning brand down in a wide arc that Derek easily avoided.  He hissed and raised a rigid hand, its nails now black and sharpened, to strike the mage, but then cocked his head as if he heard something.

Martin pulled back and made to swing his brand again, but Derek leapt away to the edge of the platform.  “Yes… Yes… I’m coming,” he hissed into the darkness.  He looked back. “See you later, Martin,” and swung off the side, disappearing into the darkness.

Martin stood there flabbergasted for a moment, and then chucked the brand back into the fire and sat beside it, staring away into the small smoky flame for the rest of the night.


*Tholem, 11th of Sek – 565 H.E.*

“Where’s Derek!?” Ratchis’ voice snapped Martin awake.  He was still kneeling, and the fire had died before him.  Light streamed in from the trapdoor above.

Martin fell over, his legs tingling with pin and needles.

“He’s gone. He rose in the night and fled,” Martin said, with no emotion in his voice.  He stood, slowly.  He made a shooing gesture with his left hand. “Go pray. We need your healing.”

“I’m sorry, Martin,” Ratchis said, inexplicably, and then rose up, his face becoming a mask of rage.  He grabbed the watch-mage by the front of his robes and lifted him into the air.  “WHY DIDN’T YOU ALERT US??!!??”

“What good would it have done us,” Martin replied, his voice still passionless.  “We needed for Beorth.”

Ratchis growled.

“You can put me down now,” Martin added, calmly.

Ratchis put him down.

“What kind of man can be so calm when one of his friends becomes one of the living dead?” he asked, with disgust.

“We will join them soon enough, but we might as well do what we can while we can,” Martin replied.   

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

After praying, Kazrack and Ratchis used the blessings of their gods to tend to the wounds of the party.  Though gravely wounded, when Kazrack went to lay his hands on Ratchis, the half-orc balked.

“Don’t waste that on me!” he snarled.

“Oh?  You want to die too now?” Kazrack asked.  “You’d rather die down here than to live a coward.”

“Say that again’” Ratchis dared.

“You’d rather die down here than to live a coward.” Kazrack spat.

Ratchis’ big meaty fist slammed into Kazrack’s face with incredible might.  The dwarf’s head was driven back, but he immediately crouched into a fighting stance, raising his own fists.

“Are you done?” he asked his friend.

“Are you _both_ done?” Martin asked, disgust in his voice.

Ratchis slumped down to the cold stone.  Crying, he cast another healing spell upon Beorth bringing him back from the edge of Anubis’ Realm.  The paladin coughed awake.

“You brought me back,” he sputtered.

“One life for another,” Ratchis replied.

Suddenly, a shadow crossed over the trapdoor.  “Hello!”  A fair voice called down.

*End of Session #56*

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

*Notes:*

(1) Martin’s ring, _Lacan’s Demise_ must be worn for one weak without interruption for its easting, drinking and sleeping properties to kick in.

(2) Martin used _prestidigitation_ to clean Derek’s body.


----------



## handforged

whoa.


----------



## el-remmen

handforged said:
			
		

> whoa.




That bad, huh?


----------



## Manzanita

That bad.  Hard core.  Good role-playing by the living, in any case.


----------



## monboesen

Damn. You got to be the harshest dm out there. There just seem to be no respite for the poor group. It makes for a very good dark fantasy story but I don't think many players i've known would stick with this game.

So many deaths, so many enemies, so few friends and rewards. Don't the characters (and players) ever wonder why they keep going on. The natural evolution in your game would be that almost everyone played clerics. That way they might have enough healing and turn undead attempts to survive.

I guess what I'm saying is: great story, incredible perstistant players, very nasty dm'ing.


----------



## el-remmen

monboesen said:
			
		

> Damn. You got to be the harshest dm out there. There just seem to be no respite for the poor group. It makes for a very good dark fantasy story but I don't think many players i've known would stick with this game.
> 
> So many deaths, so many enemies, so few friends and rewards. Don't the characters (and players) ever wonder why they keep going on. The natural evolution in your game would be that almost everyone played clerics. That way they might have enough healing and turn undead attempts to survive.
> 
> I guess what I'm saying is: great story, incredible perstistant players, very nasty dm'ing.




Derek's death sucked, major big-time. 

It was just one of those things that was hard to avoid.  I did my best every single time someone went up and down thos stairs to describe how unstable they were, how the metal would twist and groan and the stones would shakes and crack and throw up dust, and people had to make balance checks and reflex saves and the like - But at the same time, the Pit of Bones was the Pit of Bones - a place meant to be a "clincher" adventure - a very clear step in their journey towards Hurgun's Maze - but a damn dangerous place - and as DM you can't be afraid to put the PCs in dangerous places, places where they are in over their heads.


It is that struggle against all odds that is what makes for persistant playing in my mind.  Their victories mean that much more, and deaths are earth-shattering, but I have to disagree about the party not having any friends - they have plenty. . .  there is the gnomes of Garvan, Belear and the dwarves from Abarrane-Abaruch, the elves of Aze-Nunquerna, the Shepherds (i.e Finn & Co), and the constable and alderman of Summit seem very amenible to them - not to mention that Daniel the King's Steward has helped them out in the past - and then there is Richard the Red who falls somewhere between friend and foe.

But anyway _The Pit of Bones_ was meant to be a tough place and it was. . . Wait 'til you see some of the stuff that happens next. . . .


----------



## Jon Potter

nemmerle said:
			
		

> Derek's death sucked, major big-time.




Yeah is did! That has got to be the worst character death I've heard tell about for the shear fact that it was completely out of his player's hands. Bad enough to be twiddling your thumbs while your character's unconsious, but then to have them die *after *being stabilized and then come back as an undead.

That's just plain wrong.



> But anyway _The Pit of Bones_ was meant to be a tough place and it was. . . Wait 'til you see some of the stuff that happens next. . . .




It gets worse?!?


----------



## Manzanita

Don't appologize, Nemmerle.  That's the kind of campaign you run.  As you say, it makes the victories all the sweeter, knowing how easy it is to fail.  (I'm dying to play in one of Nem's campaigns, & long ago reserved the first spot in the eventual Aquerra PbP!   )And look at the bright side, Martin did get his spell books back.    

(but it gets worse...?)


----------



## handforged

I was blown away by it.  It is definitely what I have come to expect from your campaign.  I can't tell you how terrified I would be to play in your group, but I love reading about it.  And *monboeson*, notice that three of the still living characters can turn and heal, so your are partially correct.

~hf


----------



## Tony Vargas

monboesen said:
			
		

> The natural evolution in your game would be that almost everyone played clerics. That way they might have enough healing and turn undead attempts to survive.




Well, let's see who's alive:  Kazrak (fighter/cleric), Ratchis (ranger/cleric), Boerth (Paladin), Martin (Wiz)...

and who's dead:  Janna (Sorc), Jeremy (fighter), & Derek (ranger?).

Your posited theory of party-composition evolution would seem to be supported.   


Of course, it might have to do with other factors than mere survival.  Aquera seems to have some pretty well-developed established religion, and such themes are treated fairly well in the story, and, I assume, at the table - so, it also looks like it'd be a good campaign in which to RP a cleric, as well as one in which that class might also be more survivable and more useful.  I'd like to see how Nem treats Druids or Monks... those'd also strike me as viable choices.

Low wealth/magic games (and I'm not criticizing them, I prefer such games) do tend to disfavor some classes - fighters, for instance, are less likely to have a magic item to fall back on when they need to reach outside of thier tight set of class abilities, and will find thier AC lagging against thier opponents' BAB, without enhancement bonuses; wizards will find themselves with a much smaller spell selection (Martin exemplifies this, AFAICT) and less able to avail themselves of item creation; Paladins and clerics may also run into the armor/AC problem, though they have magic to aid them; and so forth.  Other classes might shine by contrast - any caster, for instance, has a more important role, since few of his spells will be replaced by items - and, any class with sold, dependable, scaling abilities may also do well:  Monks, for instance, with thier AC and damage scaling by level independent of items; Druids, already restricted to cheaper armors, and with spells and Wildshape to improve thier effectiveness; or standard Sorcerers, who simply gain thier spells automatically as they level.


----------



## Manzanita

Tony Vargas said:
			
		

> Well, let's see who's alive:  Kazrak (fighter/cleric), Ratchis (ranger/cleric), Boerth (Paladin), Martin (Wiz)...
> 
> and who's dead:  Janna (Sorc), Jeremy (fighter), & Derek (ranger?).
> 
> Low wealth/magic games (and I'm not criticizing them, I prefer such games) do tend to disfavor some classes - fighters, for instance, are less likely to have a magic item to fall back on when they need to reach outside of thier tight set of class abilities, and will find thier AC lagging against thier opponents' BAB, without enhancement bonuses; wizards will find themselves with a much smaller spell selection (Martin exemplifies this, AFAICT) and less able to avail themselves of item creation; Paladins and clerics may also run into the armor/AC problem, though they have magic to aid them; and so forth.  Other classes might shine by contrast - any caster, for instance, has a more important role, since few of his spells will be replaced by items - and, any class with sold, dependable, scaling abilities may also do well:  Monks, for instance, with thier AC and damage scaling by level independent of items; Druids, already restricted to cheaper armors, and with spells and Wildshape to improve thier effectiveness; or standard Sorcerers, who simply gain thier spells automatically as they level.




Interesting analysis of low-magic games.  I'd never thought about it that way before.  As for deaths.  Don't forget Malcom (Bard).  Derek was a ranger/rogue.


----------



## el-remmen

Welcome Tony.

Interesting analysis.  

Someone is playing a druid variant (as druids are folded into the priest class in Aquerra) in Rastfar's 'The Promised Land' campaign (the story hour has not gotten that far yet) and it is interesting so far.  Her abilties have made certian outdoor encounters much easier - though she rarely heals others.

The witch (which has been overhauled since Jana played the first one) replaces the sorcerer.


----------



## Tellerve

*ahem*

Well that's for role-playing reasons.  And besides, Rastfar, and others I thought, tended to not like the clerics as walking medics role?

Tellerve


----------



## el-remmen

Tellerve said:
			
		

> *ahem*
> 
> Well that's for role-playing reasons.  And besides, Rastfar, and others I thought, tended to not like the clerics as walking medics role?
> 
> Tellerve




Hey!  I wasn't trying to put you down - I was just mentioning that your healing is not a readily accessible resource for everyone - and that is as it should be I think.


----------



## Tellerve

a'ight, just checking.  I thought I heard the mewling of a certain bard   

Perhaps it'll change after the most recent bit of information that Rastfar put up from the book.  Then again maybe it won't, but I'm sure it'll do something for that character.

Tellerve

p.s. Sorry for starting to pry this thread from its intentions of telling the Fearless' story


----------



## el-remmen

Hey all!

I just wanted to let you know that I am diligently working on the next installment, which includes the introduction of a new PC and the grilling she gets!

Also, I have been thinking of posting something more to the Rogue's Gallery thread - Anything anyone wants to see in particular?

Someone mentioned the Cifal, anything else?


----------



## handforged

maybe the vampire that got ousted in one blow, that would be nice to see.  everything else I want to know about seems like it might not be resolved in the story yet and I wouldn't want to ruin the fun.  Glad to know that you are working on another installment, I can't wait.

~hf


----------



## Pyske

I've made it as far as the (second) death of Jeremy, reading from the beginning, and accidentally spoilered myself on Derek while scrolling.  Definitely an interesting story to read.  ('Though I must admit that I'm probably among those who prefer a different style at the table.)

Anyhow, I know you prefer to hear from your readers, so I thought I'd post a quick note to acknowledge the many, many hours I've spent reading the story hour, even when I should have been being productive. 

 . . . . . . . -- Eric


----------



## el-remmen

handforged said:
			
		

> maybe the vampire that got ousted in one blow, that would be nice to see.  everything else I want to know about seems like it might not be resolved in the story yet and I wouldn't want to ruin the fun.  Glad to know that you are working on another installment, I can't wait.
> 
> ~hf




_Zedarias_?  You got it.  I'll see if I can type the stats out of my campaign notebook tonight some time.



			
				Psyke said:
			
		

> I've made it as far as the (second) death of Jeremy, reading from the beginning, and accidentally spoilered myself on Derek while scrolling. Definitely an interesting story to read. ('Though I must admit that I'm probably among those who prefer a different style at the table.)
> 
> Anyhow, I know you prefer to hear from your readers, so I thought I'd post a quick note to acknowledge the many, many hours I've spent reading the story hour, even when I should have been being productive.




Thanks for reading, psyke. . .  And glad you enjoy reading it - even if you would not enjoy playing in it   :\


----------



## Pyske

nemmerle said:
			
		

> Thanks for reading, psyke. . .  And glad you enjoy reading it - even if you would not enjoy playing in it   :\




I take it that didn't come out as complimentary in tone as I intended.  Apologies; my only excuse is that it was posted at 12:00am after working through the weekend.  I'd make another attempt, but I think I should wait until I can think a bit more clearly.  No offense intended.

 . . . . . . . -- Eric


----------



## el-remmen

Pyske said:
			
		

> I take it that didn't come out as complimentary in tone as I intended.  Apologies; my only excuse is that it was posted at 12:00am after working through the weekend.  I'd make another attempt, but I think I should wait until I can think a bit more clearly.  No offense intended.
> 
> . . . . . . . -- Eric




No, no. ..  I didn't take offense at all. . .  I know my game isn't for everyone. . .  It is just a matter of personal preference.


----------



## el-remmen

*part 1 (of 2)*

*Session #57*

“Hello?” the voice called down again.  It was a fair voice, with a high lilt, as if it might break into a melancholy song at each syllable.

Kazrack walked over to the where the rubble of the stairway now lay, craning his neck to get a view of who might be up there.

“Kazrack! Be careful!” Beorth hissed.

“Hello?” the dwarf called back up.  He held a loaded crossbow in his hand.

“Are you Kazrack?” the soft voice called down.  The dwarf squinted, trying to get a better view of who was up there, but the figure was backlit.  All he could tell is that the person has a very slight build, and long hair that hung down over her shoulders.  He decided it was a she, for he could not imagine a male having a voice like that, unless it was an elf.

“Who are you?” Kazrack called up, suspicious.

“Are you traveling with Martin the Green, Jeremy Northrop, Beorth Sahkemet, Ratchis of Nephthys and a boy called Derek?”  She rattled off the names of the Fearless Manticore Killers as if she had spent time memorizing them phonetically.

“Yes, but again I ask, who are you?”

“I am Anarie Mathaliel,” the figure said, and then she stuck her head down through the hole and Kazrack could see, his guess had been correct.  It was an elven woman. “I come from Aze-Nuquerna.  I was sent by Ethiel to aid you in your quest.”

Kazrack looked back at Beorth and Ratchis, and shrugged.  “I don’t see any reason to doubt her, except that we are in a region surrounded by enemies…”

“…and liars,” Beorth added.

“Do you have a rope?” Kazrack called up.  “We do not have a means to get you down. Unless you simply come to convey a message, if so you can tell us from up there and then flee this dangerous place.”

“You asked Aze-Nuquerna for help, did you not?” Anarie called down.  There was a hint of haughtiness n her lilting voice.

“We have to get a rope up to you,” Beorth called up weakly.

“There is no need for that,” Anarie said.  “You might not be able to get your rope back.”

And with that she disappeared from the hole for a moment and then stepped into it, but her descent was arrested as all of a sudden, she began to float down gingerly, swaying slightly back and forth.  She kicked off the top of the pile of rubble and flipped in mid-air, landing with a graceful tumble in front of the party and then up to her feet.

She wore a bluish-purple velvet clock embroidered with bright red along the seam, and bluish-black traveling leather pants that matched her leather armor.  She had very slight, almost spindly, arms, and delicate fingers.  There was a long sword at her side, and an unstrung bow stuck into the pack on her back.  Anarie 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.

“From your hair and eyes, you could be Ethiel’s twin,” Kazrack said to her.

Anarie’s eyes narrowed, “No, I don’t think so.  If you are testing me, it is a good try, but I look nothing like him.”

“Well, you are welcome,” Kazrack replied, frowning.  He did not feel as satisfied with how his ‘test’ worked.

A little red animal face peeked out from the top of the elf maid’s pack.  It took a sniff around and then ducked its head back in.

“That’s a big squirrel!” Kazrack commented.

“Yes, indeed, it would be if her were a squirrel,” Anarie said, with a puzzled look.

“Then what is he?”

“He is a fox.”

“Do all mages have animals?” Kazrack asked, but Anarie did not have a chance to answer.

“If you and your animal want to live, you should leave now,” Ratchis said, aggressively.  He walked right up to Anarie and towered over her. He stood head and shoulders taller than her.

“Sometimes one doesn’t always do what it is smart when they are doing what is right,” Kazrack said.

“I know,” Ratchis replied.

“I did not come all this way to back down now,” Anarie said, her impassive face making it difficult to tell if she were insulted or intimidated at all.  “Are those monks tied up above those who would not listen to your warning?”

Ratchis grunted.  Beorth introduced himself, and did his best to explain about the monks.

“I’m surprised you were able to reach us alone,” Kazrack said, still suspicious.  “You must be a great warrior in addition to one who can, uh…use magic.”

“Magic can be useful for many things, and one person alone can get through some place unnoticed easier than a group can,” Anarie said, by way of explanation.

“Heh. You may prefer to travel alone then if it is so much safer,” Ratchis grunted, angrily.  He sat down.  “In any case, don’t listen to anything I say, it may lead to your death.”

“Given the dangers of this place I can understand your grim attitude, but is it really warranted?” Anaris asked.

“We have lost two members of our group to Anubis Realm, already, and we have barely breached this place, ” Beorth said.  “And I was almost lost as well.”

They sat down to talk more, as Martin the Green continued to sleep.

“Forgive me if my next question makes me seem less than grateful, but I was curious why you agreed to come here,” Kazrack asked.

“Ethiel asked me to, because you asked him,” Anarie said. 

“So, it was out of obligation to Ethiel?”

“…And curiosity.  It is not often that one gets the opportunity to Walk through a dwarven citadel, even a fallen one.” 

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

Hours passed.  Some in silence, some in more conversation with the elven woman – though Ratchis did not say a word.  Beorth and Kazrack decided to use some rubble to cover the hole down to the lower half of the area.  There had been a stairway there once as well, but it seemed to have collapsed long before the upper one.

Not too long after that the party noticed movement above.

“Do you think that the other monk has returned?” Beorth asked.

“Most likely,” Kazrack replied in a whisper.  “I just hope that he does not cover our retreat through that way.”

As if he had been heard, Kazrack swore as he saw the wooden planks cover the hole back up, and they all heard the sound of stones being laid atop them.

“Well, at least they did not come down after us,” Kazrack said, shrugging. “I am more concerned about going below and destroying those incessant mumblers down there.”

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

Martin had just woken up suddenly, to the sound of Thomas chittering in his head, when the others heard the sound of creaking and shuffling approaching in the darkness from the other side of the great chamber.

“Something is coming!” Anarie announced.

“Beorth, get ready to make a light!” Kazrack ordered.

Ratchis could two shambling dwarven forms coming at them in the darkness.  Their bodies were bloated, and rotting, and they still wore scraps of chain armor.  One of the had its entire lowered portion of it face ripped down to the barest raw flesh atop of bone, and black bile dripped, shining bright white in the half-orc’s darkvision oozed out.



Ratchis hefted his hammer and walked cautiously towards them, eager for their attack.

Martin squinted, as Anarie now held a lit torch, casting wild shadows, and making them feel as if there were movement all around them.

“Lady of the Raised Shield (1), protect me from my foes, that I may defend my companions,” Kazrack called, holding his bag runestones with his right hand, and casting _Protection from Evil_.  He hurried to support Ratchis, halberd in hand.

The two forms hastened their approach toward Ratchis, but they still had an uneven, almost ape-like gait.   

Anarie spoke a word softly in her mellifluous tongue, and the torch in her hand began to sail of its own accord over to illuminate the undead. (2)

The first one leapt forward at Ratchis.  It’s eyes bulged and its skull cracked as Ratchis brought his hammer down on its head with both hands, but it did not even slow, and while it clawed blindly, its jagged teeth ripped into his forearm.

“Don’t let them touch you!” Martin called out, recognizing ghouls from his _Introduction to Undead_ class at the Academy.  “They can paralyze with a touch!  _Lentus!_”

The ghoul clawing at Ratchis suddenly slowed down in a bizarre parody of itself.

The other one came at Kazrack, and the dwarf tried ripping it from its feet, but it leapt easily avoiding the pole-axe’s hooked blade and it two brought a bright down on one of the Manticore Killers.  Kazrack pushed at with the shaft his weapon, and suddenly Ratchis was on its left flank, bringing his hammer down on its back.  It screeched and hissed and moved away from Kazrack to keep both foes in its line of sight, Kazrack could see that the first ghoul was now a lifeless pulpy mass on the stone platform. Ratchis had smashed the head from its body with a hammer blow.

The second ghoul was still reeling from the blow, when Beorth stepped up and brought his sword down, nearly cleaving head and shoulder from the thing,  “Anubis!  Your blessings guide my weapon!”

The Fearless Manticore Killers began to debate moving their camp over to an area of the platforms where access would be more limited from below.

“And you are?” Martin asked Anarie.

“Anarie Mathaliel.”

As they were in the process of moving, more ghouls came climbing up from below, splitting part of the group from that which had already set themselves up in the smaller area.  Kazrack has created a barricade with rubble.

One climbed over and made it way to Beorth, who did not hesitate.  In a second he was bringing his sword down on it, cutting a huge gash in its chest. Kazrack leapt over the barricade, Halberd in hand to aid Beorth, and Anarie move to flank.  Ratchis and Martin who were furthest away, were cut off, as another ghoul leapt from another platform, knocking Ratchis down.

“Kazrack!  Ratchis needs help! Augh!” Martin barely finished his warning, when his stomach cramped, and he felt his bile rise.  He could hear something clawing its way up one of the solid stone supports and it smelled of a rancid moldering corpse.

Beorth cut deep into the dead flesh of the ghoul before him, but it would not fall, clawing and biting the paladin, who felt his muscles harden and quit responding to his commands.  He was paralyzed.  The ghoul licked Beorth’s face hungrily, but then cried out as Anarie spoke some arcane words and two arrows of light flew from her out stretched hand, striking it.

Like the original ghouls, these were the twisted forms of dwarves as well.

“Come with us, Kazrack.” one hissed.  “Join your fathers.”

The dwarf charged at the one between Martin and Beorth, but it ducked and the dwarf swung around to interpose himself.

There was a loud clank as whatever was climbing from below threw over a hand holding a two-handed hammer and began to pull itself up.  

Ratchis got to his feet, and slammed the ghoul that attacked him with his hammer, full on in the chest.  The thing’s chest caved in and a huge piece of it fell away as if it were a false panel, revealing fresh bleeding flesh and a protrusion of bone below.

“_Lentus!_ Martin tried his slow spell again, but this time the ghouls were unaffected.  

Anarie’s sword was suddenly in her hand, and she skipped forward at the one hoping to devour Beorth, as if frolicking in the woods, with a flick of her wrist, the top half of the head was clipped off and flying into the darkness.  The thing’s body collapsed.

“Devious elves,” the rotten thing said, as it came up onto the platform and went for Kazrack.

Ratchis finished his foe, and moved past Martin to help Kazrack.  The watch-mage pulled knife and hurried over to cover the paralyzed Beorth, to allow Anarie to join the frey.  The elfin warrior, tumbled to flank it. 

Kazrack cried out, as the rotten ghoul’s filthy claws ripped at his face, drawing blood.  The thing wore a rotten tunic, and hefted a great hammer, grasping it with two hands again to strike down on Kazrack.  However, the rune-thrower, stepped back and thrust with his halberd, cutting deeply into it.  

Ratchis choked back bile as the foul stench filled his nostril.  He swung weakly and nearly lost his footing.

“D’nar! Watch out!” Kazrack warned, but he should have taken his own advice as the ghastly thing’s hammer struck him across the top of his head painfully.  Luckily, his helmet absorbed most of the blow or he might have been brained.  However, he could still feel the wound begin to swell and bleed beneath.

Anarie coughed softly.  She felt nauseated as well, and was barely able to scratch the thing with her sword as her limbs felt weak and heavy.  The ghast snarled and knocked the blade out of sync. 

Ratchis just tried to get through the thing’s defenses with brute strength, but all the while partially digested bit of rations bubbled out of the corner of his mouth.  He was less than useless.

Cautiously, Martin left his post to join the fight.

The thing dropped the maul, and ripped Kazrack with both hands.  “You will taste the flesh of your friends,” it said, as Kazrack’s movement was arrested and he stood perfectly still, unable to move, but aware of what was going on around him.

The ghast spun around to handle Ratchis and Anarie, but the half-orc got lucky as able to drop his hammer atop its head.  It floundered to the right, and Anarie caught it under the arm with her blade, nearly cutting it arm off.  It fell lifeless to the floor. 

In a couple of minutes, both Kazrack and Beorth shook off the paralyzation.  The party used the last of their available healing just to keep themselves from hovering too closely to death's door.

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

The Fearless Manticore Killers and their new companion finished moving their camp over to one of the smaller and less easily accessible stone platforms, and Ratchis draped his hyenadon hide over an exposed portion of an arbalest to provide some shelter from the dampness.

Thomas sniffed curiously at Anarie, as Beorth spoke some words over the ghoul corpses and he and Kazrack buried them under cairns made of rubble.

“I smell something funny… Ah!”  Thomas ducked into Martin’s shirt shivering as Anarie’s own familiar poked his head out wit hcuriosuity.  “He’s gonna eat me!”

“Don’t worry, we won’t allow that,” Martin comforted his familiar, and turned to Anarie.  “And who is your friend?”

“Tuko.”

“The squirrel is Thomas,” Martin replied wit ha smile. “You have to understand, he is uncomfortable with foxes.”

“If you two are done playing with your animals we have work to do that would go faster with some help,” Ratchis scowled, lifting a heavy stone to lay upon one of the ghouls.

Martin sighed, and he and Anarie helped what little they could.

Soon, everyone settled down to rest and catch some sleep, except Ratchis and Anarie, who agreed to watch.  In the morning, they would make their way down to the lower level, perhaps to never see the sun again.

 ----------------------------------------------------------------
*Notes*
--------------
(1) Rivkenal.

(2) _Mage Hand_


----------



## Pyske

Right, then, I'm all caught up.  Anarie is what, a Ranger / Wizard / Thief?  I caught 1st level spells, tumbling, and long sword use.  If she's a cleric as well, I promise to be very amused. 

 . . . . . . . -- Eric


----------



## handforged

It's nice to see a new face, and one that promises to bring a new view on things.  My prediction is Wizard/Rogue and the longsword proficiency coming from Elf.  I would have said Sorceror but there ain't none of 'em in Aquerra, and I doubt that Anarie is a Witch, although if she is, that could tie things back into Richard the Red quite nicely...

~hf


----------



## Dherys Thal

*About Nemmerle's game*

Long-time lurker emerging...

I too have found myself thinking "Wow, what a hard-knock campaign world these poor PCs have landed in."  

However, I find myself coming back to this story hour as one of the handful I've kept up with.  Nemmerle's creativity is outstanding, and it's very apparent that the PCs are dedicated to being the PCs, as opposed to trying to "win" at all costs - subverting the rules and legitimate RP in the process.

There's also something to be said for scarcity creating value.  Instead of a "+1 sword" - we've got the Right Sword of Arofel (or whatever it's called).  

As a DM who tends to lean towards the stingy side (though not this far) - I applaud Nemmerle's discipline.  I'm sure it's a fantastic game to play in - and a great group to game with.  My compliments.  Now, back to lurking.


----------



## Manzanita

Nice update.  I'm sure glad they got another PC; they really need the help.  Is this the same Player as Jana & Derek?


----------



## el-remmen

Dherys Thal said:
			
		

> Long-time lurker emerging...




Thanks for the kind words. . . 

The discussion about the "value" of a Ring of Sustenance in this thread made me realize that I can't help but think of magical items as items to help move a story along either by origin or use (or preferably both).  I said, as much in another thread in House Rules about Buffing Items. . .  The fact that magic would ever even be reduced to such a catch-all and flavorless phrase just work for me in terms of why I play and run this game.  

While I understand what the designers of the game were trying to do by codifiying the cost/value of magical items to "balance" them and give DMs a judge by which to determine their power - the problem is that at somewhere along the line _players_ started seeing items in those terms as well.   They are more than plain bonuses and a form of currency that helps you kick ass along the way. . . 

Okay enough ranting. . .  I merely meant to thank you for your post.

But you know, now that you've popped your posting cherry I'll be looking for your comments in the peanut gallery.


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Nice update.  I'm sure glad they got another PC; they really need the help.  Is this the same Player as Jana & Derek?





Here's the group + The Pig:


----------



## Manzanita

I love the picture, although you didn't really answer my question.  No one looks like how I would have imagined (though I can't say I really spent any time imagining).  Beorth's Player is bald, though, I should have guessed that.(?)

I'm still chewing on Handforge's comment about Anarie being a witch.  I wouldn't be on it, although this campaign always has another surprise...


----------



## el-remmen

Oh sorry, yes Jana/Derek's player (Helene) played Anarie as well. . .

As _Magic Missile_ is not on any of the witch spell lists (not that you would know that) it is pretty clear she is not a witch.  Also elves cannot take witch as a class due to ancient customs/taboos governing their contact with extra-planar entities.


----------



## handforged

nemmerle said:
			
		

> Oh sorry, yes Jana/Derek's player (Helene) *played* Anarie as well. . .




Emphasis above mine.  That poor player losing three characters in the same campaign, unless it was just a slip of the tongue on nemm's part.

Thanks for the picture.  I find it interesting that the two biggest guys play the party's main fighters currently(Ratchis and Kazrack), Beorth is bald, Jeremy looks like a guy who could tumble and handle a sword(build not skintone), and Martin's character looks exactly like how I picture Martin.  Jana/Derek/Anarie doesn't appear how I envision any of those characters.

~hf


----------



## mmu1

handforged said:
			
		

> Emphasis above mine.  That poor player losing three characters in the same campaign, unless it was just a slip of the tongue on nemm's part.
> ~hf




Or unless the player didn't lose the character and simply isn't playing it for some other reason. Just because PCs are dropping like flies, it doesn't mean _every_ character you've come to know is going to die.


----------



## handforged

bump


----------



## Manzanita

Yes it's about that time again.  I'm jonesing for my fix.


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Yes it's about that time again.  I'm jonesing for my fix.




I'm working on it. . .


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

Maybe. On the other hand, I've noticed that, a lot of times, the characters who die in a campaign are played by the same people. They're the people who realize they're in over their heads one round too late or who are easily goaded into suicidal decisions or who simply have a habit of making poor choices in character creation or advancement.

It's especially pronounced in the RPGA. Locally, most players I know have had one character die at one time or other but there are a few whose characters die on a regular basis. There's a reason for that. (What I can't figure out is why some of the worst and most foolish players DON'T have a long string of character deaths).

So, it would make a certain kind of sense if one player's characters kept kicking the bucket.



			
				mmu1 said:
			
		

> Or unless the player didn't lose the character and simply isn't playing it for some other reason. Just because PCs are dropping like flies, it doesn't mean _every_ character you've come to know is going to die.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #57 (part ii)*

As Kazrack stood watch by himself hours later, he heard the sound of the stones being moved off the boards that covered the trapdoor above.  The Fearless Manticore Killers were camped further away from the trapdoor now, and the dwarf figured they could afford to wait and see what might come down.

He turned to Anarie, who sat with eyes wide open, with her back against one of the hastily constructed rubble barricades.

Kazrack turned to the elven woman.  

“Do you see that?” he asked, but she did not answer or even blink.  “Anarie.  Get your bow ready.”

She did not move.

Grumbling curses in dwarven, he shook Ratchis awake. “The elf refused to take action,” he whispered with disgust after explaining that someone seemed to be coming down.

At that moment a hooded lantern attached to the rope began to be lowered down the hole.

“I think she’s sleeping,” Ratchis whispered back, rubbing sleep from his eye with one hand and his bow with his other.

“Her eyes are open!” Kazrack hissed.

“That how they do it,” Ratchis explained with a shrug.

“Elves just always have to be different, don’t they?” Kazrack complained, keeping his eyes peeled at the situation unfolding above them.

The light from the swinging lantern threw wild shadows as they could see a gnome begin to shimmy down the rope.  He held one hand as if shielding his eyes from the bright sun above to get a better look.

“He should see us,” Ratchis said, as they made no effort to hide.

“There is something wrong with that rope or the gnome,” Anarie said, behind them.  Kazrack jumped, as he was startled.

“Let’s wait for them to come to us,” said Ratchis.

“We are not assassins to be crouched in the dark waiting for them,” Kazrack said.  “They may think ill of our intentions if we skulk here.  We can ill afford to befriend these gnomes.  Is not the whole point of our being here to help their kin?”

Kazrack stood, and began to walk over towards the area where the gnome hung, still about fifteen feet above the stone platform where the remains of the staircase lay covering the corpses of the ghouls the party had destroyed.

“Friend gnome!’ Kazrack called up.

“Oh, ho!  I know you mean me harm!” said the gnome looking past Kazrack to a dark corner where a ballista was covered in earth and rock.

Kazrack looked around confused.

“Don’t make a move dwarf!” Kazrack heard a voice coming from the trapdoor above.  It was the same voice as that which had issued from the gnome on the rope.  He looked up and saw the same gnome pointing a crossbow down at him.

The first gnome now stopped moving and speaking and then in a moment disappeared.

“If I meant to attack I would have attacked the gnome on the rope,” Kazrack said.

“Not if you knew it was an illusion,” the gnome reasoned.  The gnome had metal cap on, and long and thin white beard that stuck down the whole.  He had a dusky skin tone, and large green eyes.   Kazrack recognized him as one of the two gnomes that had fled after the battle with Tanweil. (1)

“We mean you no harm,” Kazrack said.

“Uh-huh, that’s why you are running around with a half-orc,” the gnome said.  “We’ve had too many of our companions die to not be cautious about whom we trust.”

“I wish you had chosen to listen earlier; if we had joined forces perhaps our companions would not have died,” Kazrack replied.  “We have already lost two of our number.”

“Don’t put that on us…” the gnome snapped.

“I only blame…”

“Ha!” The gnome pointed at him accusingly.

“…the forces of evil.”

The gnome frowned.

“But we have met evil gnomes before, how can _we_ trust _you_?” Kazrack asked.

“Heh.  How do you suggest we test each other’s intentions?” the gnome continued to carry on his side of the conversation from his position, hanging through the trapdoor; perhaps someone held him by the legs, above.

Ratchis began to walk over to Kazrack.

“A companion of mine apporoaches,” the dwarf warned the gnome.

“No funny moves!” 

“My companion has no sense of humor to speak of,” Kazrack replied dryly.

“Hee! Hee!  But _you_ do!  Are you sure you’re a dwarf?” the gnome tittered.

Kazrack did not like this question, so he ignored it.  

“For our part we are friends of Garvan, and have been there twice, once spending months with yoru people,” said Ratchis looking up.

“Oh yeah?  What’s the name of our interim chief?”

“Mozek,” Kazrack said quickly.

“No, Socher…” Martin said, having woken up and listening in.  “Mozek, his son, took over for him when he died.”

The gnome squinted at them suspiciously, “Are you friends of Mozek?”

“That cannot be said,” Kazrack replied.

“Why not?”

“Why not, what?” Kazrack asked back.

“Why can’t it be said?”

“Because it is not true.”

“What’s not true?”

“That we are his friends.”

“Then why didn’t you say that to begin with,” the gnome giggled and rolled his eyes.

Kazrack scratched his head for a moment, trying to think of a question of his own, “what were the names of the two junior illusionists?”

“They were brothers,” Martin added.

“Socher and Briendel.  You are trying to be tricky,” the gnome said, but there seemed to be respect in his voice.

And so the questioning went on back and forth, the gnome occasionally seeming to argue with whomever he was with up there.  Most of the questions had to do with the Garvan gnomes.

Suddenly, the gnome disappeared from the trapdoor, as they all heard a shriek from above.  Half a moment later there was a different gnome, it was the plump little female spell-caster they had seen before, she wore a travel stained lavender cloak, and deep blue travel outfit.  She had a short bow tied to her pack and a short sword at her said.  The rope jerked as she climbed down as quickly as she could.  Kazrack winced a few times thinking she would fall.

And suddenly, there was something falling.  A screech and a roar was heard from above, and then dust and stones showered through the trapdoor, followed by a small tumbling figure.  It was the gnome they had been talking to before.  He reached out for the rope to slow his descent, but it did not do much good.  He landed painfully on the stone platform, and the female gnome did a controlled drop for the last ten feet, drawing her sword as he she looked wildly back and forth from the party to the trapdoor.  

Suddenly, at the door, a huge claw tried to reach reach through, cracking and scoring the stone around it, but it could not fit.  Its black talons were set into a magenta and purple mottled claw, which looked vaguely reptilian.  The smell of burning copper filled the huge chamber, and the thing roared and screeched again.

“Stay back!” the female gnome warned Kazrack and Ratchis.

“We mean you no harm,” said Kazrack.

“What was that?” Martin asked.

“Creedadal called it a kind of wyvern,” said the first gnome, breathing heavily and clutching his stomach and chest and he sat up.  ‘Except he said it was _fiendish_.”

“Wonderful,” Martin sighed.

“Creedadal? Why is that name familiar to me?” Kazrack asked.

“He is the Master Illusionist of Garvan,” Martin explained.  “He left with the real Chieftain to seek the aid of the elves, and as we all know, they never returned.”

“Oh, when was the last time you spoke to Creedadal?” Kazrack asked the gnomes.

“Before he died,” the male gnome replied, and his companion let out a small sob, covering her mouth with her free hand; her sword lowered a bit.

“What were you doing here?  What was he doing here?” Martin asked.

The gnome looked down.  “We cannot tell you.”

“Then how can we trust you?” Kazrack asked.

“I guess, you must trust to friendship,” the gnome looked at Ratchis pointedly, and then glanced at his belt of scored chains.  He looked Kazrack in the eye. “But if you want us to trust you then you need to swear to your dwarven god that you will help not harm or delay us.  Our kin will suffer if we do not accomplish what we are here to do.”

“I will swear on all of them,” Kazrack replied.  HE was kneeling beside the gnome.

“Okay, swear…”

“I swear I will only attack you if provoked,” the dwarf said.

The gnome scrunched up his face.  “What kind of provocation?”

“If you attack me or do some obviously evil deed.”

“Name one.”

“If you attack one of my companions…”

“No!  Not what would provoke you!  Name one of the dwarven gods, you dope!”

“Well, I was only following the most likely interpretation of what you were saying, and…”

“Kazrack!” Martin admonished.  “Just swear.”

Kazrack swore in dwarven for the gnome, listing out the names of all of his racial gods.

Names were then exchanged.  The male gnome was called Schlomo, and his companion was Kismet.

The two gnomes joined their camp.

“I have to ask you something about the man that was chasing you and your companions before,” Kazrack asked.  “He said that we were aiding the dragon by protecting you…”

“Well, what could he have meant by that? Schlomo rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner and then they darted back and forth nervously, as if he feared he was being watched.

They all agreed to rest some more before moving on.  Kismet fell into a weepy sleep, while Schlomo and Beorth watched.


*Balem, the 12th of Sek – 565 H.E.*

In the morning, the gnomes set up counter-balancing ropes, that allowed people to descend to the lower level two at a time, on either side of the central stone walkway, which was only 10 feet wide.

The chamber below was much darker, and it reached off to the northwest, larger than the level above it. However, that area seemed as if it was mostly caved in.  Huge stone supports held up the platforms above, and on the floor was powered stone and bone, with the occasional large, but still unidentifiable piece that showed sign of gnawing.

With a word, Kismet made the tiny glowing orb appear floating beside her.  It bobbed along side her, but shed enough light to illuminate 20 feet easily.

“Is that the spell called _Radiant Spark_?” Martin asked the gnome. (2)

“You can call it that,” Kismet smirked.  “We call it _Lightning bug_.”

Martin nodded, and made a mental note.  He wanted that spell.

The walls of this area were lined with scores of murderholes, through which dirt and tiny stones had poured through and in some places had cracked the walls.  When this palce had been on the surface, it must have once given a view in all direction through which the dwarves could have rained missiles down upon them.

There was broad marble stairway, scorched, cracked and scored that went down deeper underground.   Avoiding that stairs and the caved in area, for now, they moved carefully around one of the supports, and found a larger pile of fresher bones, and some torn ragged robes that appear to be monastic in origin.

Kazrack looked up and say a bunch of dwarven runes carved into the support.  They appeared to have been hastily and primitively etched by someone, but they grew less and less legible as they made their way down the side.  

It appeared to be some kind of crude record of someone being trapped down here, for there were dates.




			
				Translation of dwarven runes said:
			
		

> DAY FOUR
> 
> I THINK – ONLY HOAD CATHOR AND MYSELF BLODKUIR LEFT – CATHOR NEAR DEATH AND HUMAN CONTINUES TO WHIMPER
> 
> DAY SIX
> 
> WATER GONE – HUMAN BREATHES BUT ONLY SCREAM RARELY NOW – THE HUNGER HAS ALREADY GNAWING ON US WITHIN – SOON WE WILL BE EATING ROCKS ONE WAY OR ANOTHER
> 
> SEVEN
> 
> WATER DRIPPING WHERE WALL COLLAPSED – HOAD REPORTS HUMAN IS DEAD – WE DISCUSSED ENDING IT BUT NATAN-AHB FORFEND LET US NOT SINK TO SUCH SHAME
> 
> NINE
> 
> HOAD FOUND FOOD DIGGIN IN RUBBLE – IT IS CHEWY AND RAW BUT FILLING HE FOUND SACK OF RATIONS THEY HAD BEEN BRINGING US DURING SEIGE WHERE HE HAD BEEN DIGGING A WAY OUT – FEELING STRONGER – MAYBE LEHRETHONAR SERVANTS WILL FIND AND FREE US
> 
> TEN
> 
> STRANGE – MORE FOOD
> 
> THIRTEEN
> 
> HOAD ACTING STRANGE – NOT SPOKEN IN TWO DAYS – CATHOR IS DEAD WEAK
> 
> FIFTEEN
> 
> WHERE IS FOOD FROM – HOAD WHAT HAVE YOU DONE
> 
> SIXTEEN
> 
> NATAN-AHB FORGIVE ME HOAD IS DEAD – I KILLED HIM
> 
> 
> 
> 
> SMELL HIS BLOOD
> 
> GOOD
> 
> BLOOD GOO




The group was silent.  No one made a sound as Kazrack translated the runes aloud.  The only sound was dripping water behind them, where the chamber was collapsed.

“I swear one day I shall restore this place,” Kazrack intoned.  “But such dreams must be put aside for now.  D’nar, can you determine if that water is drinkable?  We should refill our skins, as we do not know how deep we will have to go and what other sources of water there may be.”

Schlomo noticed that behind the tall stone wall that encased the stairway down was a rusted weapons rack.  They found a good number of light and heavy bolts for crossbows, but most were rotted through, as were the crossbow and the hafts of other weapons.

Ratchis began to creep over to the wall of rubble that reached up to the ceiled at an acute angle.  Among the rubble there leaked steams of water, and among them were large purple mushrooms, covered in puckered lesions.  They were as tall as a man, and their stems and broad as one.

“Those look unpleasant,” commented Martin the Green.

“Poisonous?” Ratchis asked.

“No idea,” Martin replied.  “I’ve never seen anything like them before.  But I certainly wouldn’t eat one.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ratchis said, dryly.

As Ratchis crept towards the water to taste it out, he came ever closer to the fungi, and suddenly one just off to his left opened its suckered lesions and began to emit an ear-piercing shriek.

“Everyone get back!  I’ll take care of it,” Ratchis cried above the shrieking mushroom, drawing his sword and charging up the rubble at it, but as he did another of the mushrooms he was passing by suddenly whipped out barbed tentacles.

Startled, Ratchis retreated a step and it whipped him again.  This time he could feel the barbs leave behind burning stinging splinters on his arm.  It began to throb.

Beorth did the exact opposite of what Ratchis said rushed forward, feeling the sting of the spines well, Kazrack hurried forward and buried his halberd into the one attacking Beorth.

And still the shrieking continued. 

Anarie spoke an arcane word, but whether it was her armor or the incessant nerve-wracking sound, the spell fizzled and did not come off.

Sighing, Ratchis hurried by, and hacked at the shrieking one to stop it.    A cloud of spores spurt into the air, and he coughed, but the thing did not stop.

Kazrack cried out as he felt the sting of two tentacles.  They could now see more than half-the large mushrooms in the rubble swaying their tentacles in their direction blindly and eagerly.  

Beorth felt the sting again, but cut the thing apart and finally the tentacles topped moving.  Kazrack was able to hurry over finish the shrieker, and the party simply got out of range of the violent fungi.

Moments later when the Fearless Manticore Killers gathered at the top of the stairs, Kazrack let out a low moan.  Whatever poison had been in those stingers draining his stamina. (3)

With a word to his goddess, Ratchis was able to _restore_ it.

There was no where left to go except down the stairs, and Ratchis and Kazrack led the way, followed by Schlomo and Beorth.  Martin and Kismet walked side by side and Anarie took up the rear.

Yes, Ratchissssss, that’s it,” a familiar voice hissed from below, as they descended into darkess.  “Come closer.  Let me repay you my debt.”

*End of Session #57* 

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

*Notes:*

(1) See Session #53

(2) *DM’s Note:* _Radiant Spark_ is a spell from the Aquerra Player’s Guide.

(3) *DM’s Note:* Kazrack took 2 points of Constitution damage.


----------



## handforged

I really enjoyed reading the quizzing back and forth between the party and the gnomes.  Is Martin's player really the only one that remembered the absolute details, or was that part of the roleplaying?  Thanks for the update.

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

handforged said:
			
		

> I really enjoyed reading the quizzing back and forth between the party and the gnomes.  Is Martin's player really the only one that remembered the absolute details, or was that part of the roleplaying?  Thanks for the update.
> 
> ~hf




Kazrack's player has a horrible memory for character and place names, and while he tries to make up for this by taking notes - his note-taking skills must leave something to be desired as well since he often frantically looks through paper to find something when it is mentioned.

Of course, in a campaign like this with scores of names and place-names to remember, some confusion is bound to occur, so depending on how obscure or common the name is (or how annoyed I am   ) I will give a friendly reminder if asked.


----------



## Manzanita

Yes, thanks for the update.  Looks like we'll be seeing Derek again next installment, or what's left of him.  It reminds me that I once had a PC killed and turned into undead as well...


----------



## el-remmen

*De-Classified Threads!*

[redacted]


----------



## rigur

Thanks for the update. Lots of new characters showing up, it will be interesting to read how this will develop.

Keep up the good work.
R.


----------



## el-remmen

*part 1 (orf 2)*

*Session #58*

The broad steps led down into a large central chamber. With a vaulted twenty foot ceiling, the marble tiled floor was stained with dust and blood, and covered in loose stones, cracked tiles and bits of bone.  Two huge statues of armored dwarves, now lay in large pieces, bisecting the room diagonally.  Across the room a similar stairway led down another level into further darkness, and a fifteen foot wide hall led out of the chamber in the left lower corner.  The opposite corner from where the stairs from above turned left into the room, a stone statue still stood.  It was a dwarven warrior in chainmail, holding a warhammer before his face.  The workmanship and detail was incredible and Kazrack gasped.  There was a setting for gemstone, as if it had been woven into the beard, but it had been wedged out.

Beorth held a torch aloft, as Ratchis led the way towards the hall.

“…_watch your back_…”  Whispers floated on the stale air like leaves on a pond.  They all frantically looked around, craning their necks to determine where they came from.  “…coming to kill me again, are you Ratchissssss…”  It was Derek’s voice.  

“I’m coming to put you to rest,” Rachis whispered back.  He saw the hall was actually in two sections, one going up and to the right, the other parallel to the chamber and kind of going off to the right on the other side of a thick stone wall that seemed to help support the tons of stone above.  There was a set of thick oaken double door reinforced with bands of iron directly ahead in the upper portion of the hall, Ratchis moved ahead to check the leftward way.  This broad hall’s walls were decorated with carving of huge dwarven faces side by side.  The faces were nearly five feet across and carved from the very stone with incredible detail, though places seemed to have been rubbed down by the centuries.

“Do you recognize any of these figures or faces?” Beorth asked Kazrack. 

The dwarf walked slowly forward, going right up to one of the faces, and feeling the curve of stone with his bare hand.  He laid his face against the stone to check for seams.

Ratchis crept past, looking cursorily into two barren alcoves on the left hand wall.

“Why not let us eat the mage?” a voice hissed from seemingly behind them, from the other hall.  “I hear he is useless, anyway.”  This voice was not Derek’s.  It was deeper and more sinister.

“Kazrack!” Ratchis warned, as heard sudden footsteps from the other hall.  There emerged a dwarf in chainmail, and holding a battered metal shield.  He swung a bright golden flail in the other hand, and wore no helmet.  A large portion of his scalp was torn away revealing cracked skull beneath.  His eyes were red and glowed with cold light.

Ratchis turned and the grabbed his left shoulder crying out.  An arrow had come flying out of the wall where the dwarven face was.  There were arrow slits that were so cleverly disguised; they still could not be seen even though an arrow can come flying from one.  

Martin acted quickly, firing his crossbow at the thing, but the bolt merely lodged in its shield, and its eyes brightened with more intense hatred.

“Beorth, I’ll take the torch so you can fight,” the mage dropped his crossbow to the floor.

Beorth nearly dropped the torch as he passed it back without looking at his companion.  Sword in hand he rushed at the dwarf.  “Feel the wrath of my god!” he cried, and running past everyone brought the sword down on the undead thing.  The long sword sparked against the shield and then slid down catching on the dead dwarf’s skull, prying a piece off.  Black blood and brain matter bubbled out from the wound, but the thing did not pause.  It whipped the flail around, catching the paladin in the ribs.  Beorth was able to parry the follow-up blow, but rubbed his side.

“Don’t go to it!  Wait for it to come to you,” Schlomo called to Beorth, adding a curse in gnomish.

Anarie moved to get a shot with her bow, while Ratchis and Kazrack marched forward to help Beorth.

“Martin, Kismet, move back into the chamber so you don’t get hit by arrows from behind,” Kazrack suggested.  

As if in answer, Martin cried out as an arrow bit into him.   Kismet immediately obeyed, but Scholom hefted his hammer and stood his ground, waiting for something to get within swinging range.

As Ratchis hurried up the hall he was startled as out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly saw a figure standing there, as if it had been hidden in one of the alcoves.  It was a man, a dead man with milky white eyes, and skin peeling from his face and bald head.  His left ear and neck were horribly burned, and had long ago festered and fallen away in chunks.  He wore a black priest’s robes over his chain, which was embroidered with silver serpents.  He wore a fierce golden jackal’s head about his neck.

The new foe’s hand crackled with black energy as he reached out for the half-orc, but Ratchis leapt aside, warning the others.  “There is another one back here!  Very powerful!” 

As Beorth and the undead dwarven warrior were locked in combat, Anarie spoke an arcane word and then leapt, tumbling past the dwarf to get behind him.  Unfortunately, at that moment, Beorth was driven back, allowing the dwarf to whip out with his flail catching Anarie on the backside, as she spun past.  She gave no indication of pain, even though she could feel the bruise already forming.

Beorth felt the flail’s head smash into his face as it the dwarf brought it back up deftly.  The paladin sucked in air through his teeth and moved his blade up and down to keep a repeat blow from doing the same again.

“Martin, fall behind D’nar,” Kazrack shouted orders.  “Beorth fall back to line up with me.  Back to back!”

“Everyone fall back!” Ratchis echoed, and then ducked.  He had noted movement behind the stone dwarven face on the wall with the help of Martin’s torch.  He could see where one of the murder holes were, and ducked just in time avoid another arrow.  He turned to the robed figure, but it gave him a rictus grin and then crouching as if he were about to spring into a run, blurred out of view.

He was gone.

Martin took this opportunity to cast _shield_ and hurry behind Ratchis.

The undead dwarf, confident that Beorth could not get through his shield, turned to swing at Anarie.  She leapt back deftly, and he was forced to turn back to face Kazrack who coming forward, slashed at his back with his halberd.  The living dwarf sliced through the armor of the dead one.  

“Why fight?” the dwarf croaked in dwarvish.  “Join me brother.  Eat their flesh and gain our strength.”

“The strength of the gods flows through our veins, we have no need of your flesh,” Kazrack replies.

With a pop, as air was displaced the black-robed ghast reappeared with a start, as if moment s before he had been moving with great speed, and nearly off balance reached out and ripped at Martin’s chest, tearing his watch-mage’s robes.  Martin shuddered as he felt the cold painful touch and the strength seemed to drain from his body.  He dropped down to his knees, dragged down by his pack and gear.  The air around the robed man was fetid and rotten; so thick it seemed to ooze up the nostrils and roll into the open mouth. 

Ratchis hurried forward, just barely avoiding yet another arrow, he brought his hammer against its shoulder and it crunched.

“There is another one over here,” Ratchis called to his companions around the corner, fighting the dwarf.  “Martin is down!”

As Martin frantically pulled the straps of his pack off his arms, Kazrack was distracted by Ratchis’ cry and left himself open.  The golden flail head struck him hard on the neck and the weight drove the dwarf off his feet.  Before Kazrack could get up or raise a defense, he felt the flail strike him again.  The flail was raised to come down again, but Kazrack was able to deflect it wit his halberd and stand, driving the huge axe-head into the ghoulish dwarven warrior.

“_Sagitta Magicus!_” Kismet chirped and two arrows of light shot from her finger striking the black-robed ghast squarely in the chest.  He hissed and dove at Ratchis, tearing at him with thick black nails and his jagged teeth, but then tearing away before the half-orc could retaliate.

“_Lentus!_ Martin said, pointing at the ghast, but the spell seemed to have no effect.

Beorth chopped at the undead dwarf’s arm, as he swung at Kazrack, but the blow was not slowed.  Slammed in the side of the head, Kazrack went down coughing blood.  Before Beorth could react the flail head came back, catching him behind the knee and sending him falling backward.  Again the flail came down on him, this time knocking the wind from his body, and heard a rib crack, and then all was black for the paladin.

In that one moment, two of the Fearless Manticore Killers went from fighting to having their life’s blood pouring from them. 

…To be continued…


----------



## handforged

uh oh, doesn't look good, and Derek hasn't even started playing yet.  Thanks for the update.

~hf


----------



## Manzanita

at one point you said it would get worse.  Did that already happen?  In any case, good update.  Thanks.


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> at one point you said it would get worse.  Did that already happen?  In any case, good update.  Thanks.




Does it seem worse to you?


----------



## el-remmen

*part 2 (of 2)*

*Session #58 (part ii)*

The undead dwarven warrior turned to finish Anarie now that Beorth and Kazrack were bleeding out on the rock-strewn ground.  He smiled, and the elf leaned her weight on her back foot taking a defensive posture, and not even trying counter-attacks as the clang of flail against blade began to echo in the hall.

“Beorth and Kazrack are down!” she called in her lilting voice to the others.  Despite her predicament, no fear made it waver.

“Never send a dwarf to do a gnome’s job,” Schlomo quipped, his face stern, and stepping in slammed his hammer into the small of the creature’s back.  There was a resounding crack and it fell backward.  The gnome side-stepped and spit.  The dwarf jerked as if to get back up, but then shuddered and stopped moving.

The black-robed ghast, made as if to flee, and once again seemed to blur out of view.

“That is a peculiar phenomenon,” Martin commented, hurrying to his feet and putting his back to the wall, when yet another arrow came flying past him.

Ratchis roared as an arrow bit into his left rear thigh as he turned to aid the others.  He did not even look back, but surveyed the scene and immediately fell to one knee to cast a spell of healing on the bleeding paladin.


“Keep watch,” the half-orc barked at Anarie, as Beorth sputtered awake, and he turned to Kazrack casting a second spell.

Downcast, Beorth called upon Anubis and healed himself of more of his wounds, and then applied his healing hands on Kazrack, who also awoke.

“Did anyone fall?” He coughed the words at Ratchis, concern swelling his eyes.

“You and Beorth, but you will be okay,’ Ratchis replied.

Kazrack looked at the fallen dwarf and shook his head.  He picked up the golden flail and examined it. The golden light flail was banded with obsidian at the top and bottom of the handle.  The head of the flail, affixed by a chain of black metal was shaped like a dwarf’s head with a beard of the same black metal as the chain and eyes were two shining rubies.

Kazrack gave it a few swings.  “Feels good,” he looking to Beorth.  “Do you think it might be tainted with evil?” 

Beorth shrugged.  “This place is so foul my ability to determine such things does not seem to be able to distinguish between things.”

Ratchis whispered a prayer to Nephthys.  “It is magical,” he said.

“If not one objects I will keep this for my own,” Kazrack said.

There was a long pause, as everyone looked at each other and shrugged.

“As long as we get a cut later,” Schlomo finally said with a sneer.

After a brief discussion, it was decided they would go back up to the stone platform above and rest

“Food… Food… Give us something to eat,” the hissing whisper followed them back up.

“Ignore them,” Martin said.

“The dark brothers are ahead of you.  They will get to it first,” the voice said.  “What makes you think they won’t destroy it?”

“Who are the dark brothers?” Schlomo asked.

“Monks,” Kazrack replied.

There was a lot of time to kill, but the heroes had no problem getting some sleep, as the fatigue of their wounds drew them away. 

“Who want to volunteer for the second watch?” Kazrack asked, after saying he‘d watch first, noticing everyone nodding off.

“I’ll take it,” The hissing voice whispered from below.  “I’ll watch you very closely.  The sweat flowing from your pores is like gravy.”

“They may attack during that time,” Beorth said, sitting up and shaking off his drowsiness.  “Whoever takes it should be alert.”

“Ratchis… I want to thank you,” It was Derek’s voice again.  “Come and let me thank you in person.  Bring me Beorth. Oooh!  He smells delicious.  You can’t imagine.”  

“Ignore them,” Marti nsaid again.

“Oh, or Martin? Why not send down Martin for a little snicky-snack?” Derek continued, his voice rising in pitch as he mocked.  “He’s more of a liability than an asset.  We all know it.  It’s the unspoken truth in the group.”

Everyone was silent, and the silence grew awkward.

“We should just talk as we normally do.  Ignore him,” Kazrack said, through clenched teeth.

There was more silence.

And still Derek’s croaking voice did not stop. “How can you stand it Ratchis?  Looking after them, keeping them penned in all the time?  Ironic for a believer in freedom, eh?  Don’t you just want to sometimes give into your orcish nature and just let the weak fall where they will, as nature intended it?  You orcish brothers would gladly eat the flesh of your companions to survive, to gain strength…”

“We will put you to rest soon,” Beorth said.

Kazrack shushed the paladin.  “Don’t egg him on, get your rest…”

“Beorth is fighting a losing battle,” Derek called up. “He stands against a rising tide, soon the dead will cover the earth…or he can choose the winning side like his brothers.”

“Whose side is that?” Ratchis asked.

Derek laughed.  “My new master has told me all.  It is either the fiends or the dead.  As least we will accept you into our ranks.  The fiends will torture you for eternity.  I know the truth now.  The concept of good is an illusion.  I wish I’d known before.  I would have tasted living flesh before now… Sleep tight.”

There was an echo of his sliding off and then it was silent.

Schlomo took the second watch.


Teflem, the 13th of Sek – 565 H.E.

“Are we going back down there today?” asked Martin as they all did their morning preparations, 18 hours later.

“Of course we are!” Kismet snapped at him, snapping her spellbook shut, from where she had been sitting and preparing spells.

Ratchis was able to _restore_ Kazrack’s weakened constitution and Martin’s loss of strength, and then he and Kazrack cast many spells of curing to seal the wounds of their companions.  Martin used _prestidigitation_ to clean the bandages and rolling them up, stuff them back in his healer’s bag.

Soon, the Fearless Manticore Killers and their gnomish companions were creeping down the steps once again in search of the map room. 

They came back to where the two halls flanked the lower chamber.  Ratchis looked down where the dwarven faces were, and where he knew at least one murder hole was hidden, probably more.

“Maybe we can smash through those faces to the space behind,” Ratchis suggested, and Kazrack rolled his eyes. “What?”

“Dwarves made those,” was all he needed to say.

“Okay, forget it.”  Now it was Ratchis’ turn to roll his eyes.  He crept over to the wall, and hugging it slid a bit down the hall. He felt for the murder hole with his fingers and found it.  A moment later, he was nosily hammering a spike into the hole to plug it.

Ratchis crept forward and found another murder hole.  Again, he plugged it with a spike, as the party moved forward to catch up.

There was the sound of an arrow, and Martin cried out feeling the sharp pain of it slicing his shoulder.  Ratchis turned to see what was happening, but suddenly the area around him was cloaked in darkness.

“You’re going to be so delicious,” Derek said, and he let another arrow loose as he approached.  Martin cried out again.  He came out of the rear hall.

“_Sagitta Magicus!_” Kismet said, and two arrows of light struck Derek.  Anarie mimicked her, and Derek hissed in pain and anger.

“Nephthys, give me light to pierce this darkness,” Ratchis prayed to his goddess and suddenly the light conditions normalized.  

“I’m on my way,” Kazrack called, coming back down the hall.  

Beorth turned to aid Martin, but suddenly there was the pop of air rushing away, and there was the black-robed ghast.  Beorth felt the thing’s filthy claws tear into him and pull him forward, as it sunk its teeth in.  The paladin felt his muscles stiffen, and suddenly he could no longer move. 
Scholmo let a bolt fly at Derek, but it simply lodged in his skull, seeming to do no effect.

Derek’s skin had begun to turn a bluish color, and his muscles seemed hardened, even though he did not move with any less speed.  He dropped his bow and unslinging the battle axe he had been give n off one Mozek’s brothers (1) he chopped down at Ratchis, who came running up.  The half-orc turned the blade aside with his hammer, but the haft still struck him with full force.

“Time to return the favor,” Derek smirked.

“I’m sorry,” Ratchis replied weakly, and then slammed his former companion in the head with his axe.  Derek fell down, but spun away to avoid the follow up attack.

“_Sagitta Magicus!_” Anarie chanted and again, arrows of light came flying from her hand, and slammed into Derek’s chest, as he got up.  He swung his axe at Ratchis, but the half-orc parried the blow, and brough his hammer around smashing the former woodsman in the head.  Derek’s skull popped like an over-ripe melon and his dead body collapsed spilling rotting blood and gore on dusty floor. 

Kazrack came to Beorth’s aid and swung the golden flail he had picked up off the undead dwarf.  The black-robed thing cried out and then blurred away once more.

Schlomo loaded his crossbow and Anarie put an arrow to her short bow and they waited to see if the thing reappeared so they could shoot it.
Martin the Green readied a spell, and Ratchis scooped up Derek’s exanimate corpse.

“Set, bring the power of shadow,” they heard the now familiar hissing whisper say, as if from behind one of the walls.

“I’m moving down the hallway to see if I can find that thing and finish it,” said Kazrack picking up the _Right Blade of Arofel_ from the ground where Derek had galled.

“We can’t separate,” Ratchis said.  “That thing is up to something and is bound to come back when he thinks us weak or unaware.”

Anarie touched the brooch on her neck and it began to glow with light.

“Let us move forward together then,” Kazrack said.

“We cannot move forward with Beorth in this state,” Ratchis replied and then he enchanted some small stones he picked up after lying Derek’s body gently down out of the way.  He was walking back to cover Beorth with suddenly he noticed two ghostly hands near the paladin.  They tore at him, and even though they seemed insubstantial blood welled from the wound.

"Leave me thsi willing sacrifice to devour and I will lead you to what you seek," it hissed, eyeing Beorth hungrily.

With a word from Martin, an arrow of flame came flying from his hands at where the thing’s body should have been, but the arrow simply flew right through and burst again a far wall in the adjacent chamber.  A real arrow from Anarie did much the same.

“In the name of Nephthys, go back to whatever hole you crawled out of!” Ratchis cried, swinging his chain belt in front of him and concentrating pure divine energy out from his body.

“I piss on Nephthys, that she-bitch,” the thing cackled, but then cried out as Martin cast _Disrupt Undead_upon it.  It angrily ripped at Beorth’s unmoving form once again and even more blood came pouring from the paladin.

“Kazrack! If you have healing left, use it on Beorth!” Ratchis cried desperately, and he dropped one of his stone as he made to throw it. He cursed.

“Someone pull Beorth away while I shield him,” Kazrack said, thrusting the magical short sword where the thing’s body should have been, as he stepped between it and Beorth.

“_Lumen Lustrum_,” Martin chanted and another flame arrow came bursting from his hand, and this time it seemed to disappear into where the undead thing was and it shrieked.

“You’ll die for that!” It said, and suddenly its head appeared bobbing there, translucent and ghostly as well.  It turned to look at the watch-mage, its eyes glowing a cold red.

“Aargh!” Martin cried, when suddenly the thing was upon him and tore at his throat.  So much blood started pouring down the front of his Academy robes that it threatened to permanently change their color.

Martin stumbled backward and put his hands up to fend off more attacks, but suddenly the thing was gone again.

“Martin, what has that thing done? Is it a spell?” Kazrack asked, looking around warily.

“It is in the shadow realm,’ Martin replied wearily. “It is a realm that touches our own, and yet is not quite our own, but they can effect each other.  It may also mean that he may be able to attack us from inside solid objects, so we need to be extra careful.”

Kazrack sighed.

“We have to go back,” Ratchis said.

“Again?” Schlomo was annoyed.  “We need to move forward.  There are things we both need and if we fail to get them bad things are going to happen.”

“Beorth, if you can hear me, I’m sorry,” Kazrack said, and with that he pushed on the paladin, who toppled over.  The dwarf grabbed him, and lowered him to the floor the rest of the way, before he could hit with too much force.

Anarie walked over to Beorth and place her small hand on his forehead and whispered a word or two, fortifying the paladin’s constitution so he might survive his wounds.  Kazrack followed up with his last two healing spells, but there were the weakest ones. (2)

After a few minutes, Beorth began to move some.  He sat up and looked around groggily.  He was in bad shape.

“Can you call upon the blessings of Anubis to heal you?” Kazrack asked.

“Yes,” Beorth replied.

“Will you then be well enough to move forward?”

“No.”

“I guess we gotta go on our own then,” Schlomo said to Kismet, licking the tips of his fingers and smoothing down his gray mustache. He said it loud enough for all to hear.

“Why?” Kazrack asked.

“We just gotta,” Schlomo said with annoyance born of fatigue.

“What if I give Beorth one of my potions of healing to drink?” Kismet offered, her little squeaky voice barely audible.

“If you are willing to give me your gift of magic, we will move forward,” Beorth said weakly.

“No!  We need those for ourselves,” Schlomo insisted.

“We hafta do this!” Kismet was louder.  It was her turn to be annoyed.  “If we don’t we’ll hafta go alone, and you know we won’t survive in this place long.”

Schlomo hung his head and did not respond. Kismet reached into her pack and withdrew a small metal vial, which she uncorked and handed to Beorth.

“Thank you,” the paladin said, bowing his head to the gnome woman.  Sitting on the floor, their heads were nearly at the same height.  He drank the whole thing down.  It tasted something akin to sickly sweet black licorice, and then he felt the warmth and temporary discomfort of its healing.

“Thank you,” he said again, standing.

Everyone stood and checked their gear and wounds.  Ratchis attended to Martin with another minor cure, and then they continued down the hallway with the dwarven faces, past the small alcove rooms that appeared to once have been for prepping warriors who went to fight on the battlements and use the siege weaponry above.

Kazrack noticed an area of wall that seemed like it should be hollow, as the alcove room behind it did not extend into that area.  He insisted the party backtrack a bit and allow him to search it carefully for a secret door.

Anarie glanced at it and smirked.  “I don’ think there’s anything there.  I think it is just a stone pillar that helps support the floor above it.”

“Really?” Kazrack’s voice was full of disdain.  “Well, if you don’t mind I’m going to check anyway.”

“Suit yourself,” Anarie replied.

Kazrack spent the next hour combing every inch of the 240 square foot area. (3) Checking for seams, cracks, hollows and any other sign that there might be door there.  Finally, after getting up from his hands and knees where he was checking one last time for a seam on the floor, he announced, “I think it is solid strut holding up the upper level.”

Schlomo chuckled and Kazrack glared at him.  Anarie clucked her tongue.

“Enough, let’s go,” Ratchis insisted.

“What about those double doors in the other hall?” Kazrack asked.  “Should we not check them and not leave them for something to sneak up behind us.”

“Something could sneak up on us from the other side while we do that.  It doesn’t matter, I plan to have us check the entire place anyway.”

“But we might as well while we are here,” Kazrack insisted.

Ratchis huffed and stomped past the dwarf and the rest of the party.  Kazrack and Beorth followed, while the rest spread out to watch the open area where the two halls and the open chamber met.

Ratchis walked right up to the door and grabbed the large metal ring on one of the stone. As he pulled, he felt a great weight press against it from the other side.  He suddenly realized what was happening and let go, but it was too late.  There was the rumble of stone and dirt pushing open the door violently, and suddenly he felt the nearly crushing weight of the rubble driving him from his feet.  He could see Beorth get dragged down as well, but Kazrack leapt free. (4)

Kazrack and Schlomo hurried over and helped Beorth and Ratchis dig themselves out.

“You should let me check doors before you open them,” Schlomo said.

“Or I could check them,” Anarie said.

Ratchis grunted.

They noticed another set of double doors at the top of that rear hall, but they agreed to leave it alone for now and check it later, and they all continued down the lower hall.

Further down the hall they found a small office on the left.  It was more dusty than the other rooms and the hall, and Martin could recognize the telltale fibers from old papers than crumbled apart.  There was a desk cut from a single piece of granite, but molding green in one spot.  Hanging on the wall was the torn tatters of what was one a canvas map.

They spent some time trying to figure out what the map was, and Martin noticed some fragments of runes that had been on the map.  Unfortunately, he was unable to reconstruct it, and the map was too far gone to allow _mending_ to work on it.

“If I spend a few hours, I might be able to piece together _some_ of this,” Martin offered.

“We don’t have time,” Ratchis said.

“Well, we are looking for a map, _this_ is a map,” Martin said.

“We are looking for a map room,’ Beorth said.  “This is more like a room with a map in it.”

“I don’t know from maps and rooms,” Schlomo said.  “But we don’t have time.”

Leaving the room they came to the end of the hall, where there was another of the huge dwarven faces on the wall there.  The hall opened up to two larger rooms to the left and right.  The room to the left, was close off by a long iron portcullis.

"You're getting _cold_er," they heard the voice of the ghast-priest whisper from somewhere behind them, but he was nowhere to be seen.

The right room, had some more small metal doors, but Anarie checked one and Schlomo the other and both agreed that rubble was pushing at them from the other side.

There was a metal wheel on the wall next to the portcullis.

“Do you think the wheel opens the gate?” Kazrack asked.

“Well, we can turn the wheel and find out,” Ratchis said.

“I’d rather we didn’t,” Anarie said.  “We can see in the room from here, and there seems to be nothing there.  It is just another half-collapsed room that looked on out of the wall when this was once above ground.”

“But look at that curved back wall upper supports and the angled stone struts,” Kazrack said.  “It is worth examining for the excellent craftsmanship alone, not to mention it would be ripe for hiding a secret room or passage.”

“Then turn it,” Anaris said, and then quickly leapt away, light and graceful on her tiny feet.  Kazrack sneered, but did not touch the wheel.

“If Jeremy were here, he’d have already have turned it,” Martin said wistfully.

Kazrack smiled with the memory of his fallen companion.

“Yeah, if you wanna see what the wheel does the best thing to do is turn it,” Schlomo said.  “Why would they trap a wheel out in the open like that?”

Beorth sighed and walked over to turn the wheel, but Ratchis put his hand on the paladin’s arm and stopped him. “We don’t know what it does,” he said.

“It probably controls the gate,” Martin said.

“Yeah, it might do that,” Ratchis replied.

“Why are you all so paranoid?” Schlomo asked.

“We’ve experimented with things in the past and the consequences have made us cautious,” said replied Kazrack.

Schlomo nodded.

Finally, Beorth turned the wheel.  It was corroded and made an echoing screech. And then they heard the sound of chains and weights in the wall catching and pulling, but reluctantly, protesting the entire time.  The portcullis raised four feet and then stopped.  Beorth gritted his teeth and tried turning the wheel more, but it was stuck.

Kazrack tapped his head as an idea came into it and he ran back to the office.  A moment later they all heard the sound of stone on stone and the dwarf huffing and puffing.  

”Will someone come help me?” he called out.

“What are you doing?” Ratchis walked over and saw the dwarf pushing at the huge stone desk.

“I want to slide the desk under the gate, so if it slams shut while we are in there we will not be trapped.”

“What if it just smashes the stone?” Beorth asked.

“This is good dwarven stone!” Kazrack replied.

“And the gate is good dwarven metal, what’s your point?” Beorth retorted.

“We are not all going in there anyway it doesn’t matter,” Ratchis said, and walked out of the room.

Beorth shrugged and followed.  Grumbling, Kazrack left the stone desk behind.

He ended up guarding as Ratchis, Anarie and Schlomo went into the gated room and looked around. 

There was nothing there.  

The Fearless Manticore Killers and their gnomish companions agreed that it was time to check out the next lower level, and headed back to the central chamber with the broken statues.

*End of Session #58*

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

(1) See Session #39

(2) *DM’s Note*: Anarie cast _Endurance_ (nowadays called ‘Bear’s Endurance’), and Kazrack used two _Cure Minor Wounds_ spells.

(3) *DM’s Note*: Kazrack took 20 for the search, while Anarie simply used her elven ability to walk past and simply notice.

(4) *DM’s Note*: Those within 10’ of an opened door where the room beyond had collapsed had to make a DC 20 reflex save.  Those between 10 and 20 feet had to make a DC 10 reflex save.  Failure meant taking 3d6 hit points of damage.


----------



## el-remmen

For those of you who are interested.  Session #58 was played May 17th, 2003 - which puts me about a year behind.

We just played session #77 last Saturday, so I am 19 session behind - which means I have caught up the slightest bit - since at one point I was about 23 sessions behind.


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## Manzanita

nemmerle said:
			
		

> ...I am 19 session behind - which means I have caught up the slightest bit - since at one point I was about 23 sessions behind.




Good job Nemmerle!  another fine installment.


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## handforged

great update Nemm, I am very impressed with your ability to keep things so enjoyable after an entire year.

~hf


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## el-remmen

handforged said:
			
		

> great update Nemm, I am very impressed with your ability to keep things so enjoyable after an entire year.
> 
> ~hf




Thanks.
I have really good notes, really good players and a really good memory.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #59*

With a snap of her finger, Anarie made tiny spark of light appear that shed is illumination as far as a torch, but without the flickering.  It followed her, floating about a foot above her head. (1)

They noticed that the entire fortress seemed have cracked along the horizontal plane, making the stairs and wall askew and making coming down the stairs treacherous in places if one was not careful.  The stairs turned left, and just beyond a collapsed wall and other rubble blocked the way.

Martin the Green cast _Mage Armor_ on Ratchis, who took off his chain shirt, in order to sneak more effectively and he went forward to investigate.

Creeping, Ratchis could see how precarious the rubble was.  It seemed that sufficient pressure anywhere, could make the whole thing collapse even further, but one solid stone slab held up a large portion of it, and the way it leaned at an angle on several smaller slabs, created a narrow way that could be crawled through. He lay on his belly and looked, sharp stones and rotten wooden beams loomed, but there seemed to be an opening just fifteen feet beyond.

He could hear snuffling beyond as well, and the sound of some of the rubble above settling as something struck the barrier from the other side.  There was a snort, and the sound of flat, perhaps webbed, feet slapping on stone, and dripping water.  The snorting continued.  Something was smelling around on the other side, and whatever it was was big.

“…oooh, you are going to need my help to get through there,” the hissing phantom voice whispered to Ratchis as he returned to recount what he saw.  “Leave me a little treat and I’ll guide you. I know this rotten dwarven grave well.

Ratchis ignored the voice.

“We’re going to have to go one at a time,” Ratchis explained. “And carefully, let’s wait a bit and see if the thing on the other side goes away.”

The party walked down to where the rubble barrier was, and Ratchis heard whatever it was on the other side slurping and snorting further away from the passage. 

“Kazrack, you first,” the half-orc said, and the dwarf obliged.  Ratchis went right after him.  And then it was Martin, Beorth, Kismet, Scholmo, and Anarie took the rear.  

Kazrack crawled out from under the rubble in another large central chamber at least 60 feet across.  There were two columns, five feet in diameter reaching up to braces in the tall vaulted ceiling, and a huge fountain dominated the center of the marble tiled floor.  The square fountain had a tall statue of a dwarven maid at one corner, holding a huge pitcher from whence water must have once flowed into the basin below.  However, the stone walls of the basin were now cracked, and all the water had long escape, and was a muddy puddle along the lower end of the room because of the slop of the floor.  There were rotten corpses and bones of dwarves in two piles on opposite sides of the room, and a great set of double doors on the other side of the fountain.

Ratchis scrambled out and to his feet, his hand going to his hammer, but whatever it he had heard was not in the chamber.  Martin struggled to get out, when the snorting and smacking sound began again, from down the ten foot wide hall in the center of the left wall.

“Get Beorth out here,” Ratchis hissed, fearing the thing was undead.  The paladin appeared and got to his feet, followed by Kismet and Schlomo.  The gnome immediately loaded his crossbow.  Anarie sent the _radiant spark_ out ahead of here, and as she crawled out a huge loping figure appeared at the end of the hall.

“whuzzt light em me newch hoze,” the thing said.  Its voice was a deep throated gurgle, and its words jumbled by flat floppy lips.  “Aaaagh!  More food.”

The thing began to rush forward, using its elongated arms in a simian gait.  It was nine feet tall, but hunched and gangly, with sinewy muscles beneath mottled sea green and black hide.  It had large black eyes that lacked pupils and gill slits in its veiny neck.  It had strand of curled wiry black hair plastered to its scalp but something slimy that shined in the shadowy light, and long flat breasts with green veins and crusted black nipples. (2)

“In Anubis Name, what manner of creature is that?” Beorth swore.

“I think it’s a troll,” Ratchis replied. “Spread out!”

“Let’s stick together,” Kazrack countermanded, but immediately stepped forward, readying his halberd.

“If it’s troll run away!” Schlomo suggested.

The troll screeched like a bird and came charging at Kazrack, throwing it long arms at the dwarf, who easily avoided the blow, remembering his father’s lessons about fighting giant-sized creatures of this sort.  

Anarie put an arrow to her bow and circumvented the melee, jogging to the left side of the fountain to keep the huge thing between her and the monster.  Martin followed her, wheezing with fear.  The elf’s arrow did not seem to be able to penetrate the thing’s hide.  Kismet and Schlomo made for the other side of the fountain. 

The troll’s black claw ripped at Kazrack’s armor.  It’s arms were so long that it could reach behind dwarf easily ripping chains from the mail and drawing blood from beneath.  Kazrack felt himself get pulled towards the thing, and her gnarled pointed teeth crunched onto his shoulder.  He pulled away as Beorth and Ratchis moved in to aid him.

Ratchis’ hammer slammed into the rubbery hide, fracturing bone beneath, but while the troll cried out in pain, she seemed to have no use of bones, and it did not stop her from plucking the helmet off of Beorth and leaving a bloody gash on the bald man’s neck and face. (3) 

Martin let loose a crossbow bolt that buried itself deep in the troll’s flank, while Anarie pulled a red fletched arrow from her quiver and fired.  It transformed into an arrow of flame in mid-air and exploded against the thing’s back.  It let loose an ear-piecing shriek and turned to face the elf.  Kazrack stepped in it way and barely ducked another swing of the monster’s long arm.  

The troll began to rush at Anarie, merely stepping over Kazrack as if he wasn’t there and deftly avoid a halberd between her ooze-soaked thighs.  Ratchis side-stepped and slammed his hammer into her ribs, and Beorth managed a small cut with his sword, but she would not be stopped, and as her feet touched the stagnant water, they could see all the wounds begin to close, except for the burn on her back.

“Meh shates peoples wit’ far!” she cried, knocking Anarie back into one of the pillars.  The elf was able to roll with the blow and tumble away and back on to her feet firing another of her magical arrows, but this time it exploded harmlessly against the ceiling as it was arced too high.  Martin fled out of the creature’s reach.  Kazrack and Ratchis came rushing in behind the troll and she whirled around.

“Sho many peoples! Why sho many peoples?” she asked, confused.  Kazrack ducked another swing of her claws and hacked at her swollen knee with his halberd, cleaving off chunks of cartilage.   Ratchis, while he slammed his hammer into her face, swelling one eye shut and shattering three teeth, cried out as her fist hammered into his own face with all her fury.

There was a new source of light as Kismet had conjured one of her _flaming spheres_, but it simply rolling back and forth in place as if it had no where to go.

“If I roll it into the water it will go out,” she complained.  “Get it out of the water.”

“Yes, get it out of the water!” Martin concurred.  “The water heals it!”

The troll leapt back, towards the cracked fountain, and left a parting blow to keep Ratchis at bay.  Beorth’s sword nearly took her by surprise as the paladin sliced her open and what might have been a black and shriveled kidney fell dripped out of the wound.  The blow would have been enough to drop an ogre, but the troll merely shrieked and gave nearly as good as she got, only Beorth’s armor kept him from being eviseracted.

Ratchis hung back, but Kazrack moved forward trying to keep those gangly limbs busy warding off her blows.

Another arrow from Anarie lodged itself in the monster’s back, but it was the normal kind.  The thing shrieked again, an with a sudden increase in fury that the Fearless Manticore Killers did not think possible, she reached out and snatched Kazrack in both her claws, jerking him up and down and shredding his armor, as blood flew in all directions.

“Drop the dwarf!” Beorth ordered the troll, and slapped at an arm ineffectively with his sword.  The troll obeyed, however, and unceremoniously threw the dwarf down.

Ratchis dropped his hammer and pulled the great axe from his back that he had taken from the dwarven ghast on the topmost level, but he refrained from running into battle and instead called on Nephthys to heal his wounds some., as he was gravely injured.

Kazrack was bleeding from several wounds, but he did not give up and kept at the thing, though now his limbs felt heavy and the blows even when they connected could not pierce the troll’s thick rubbery hide.

“Krauchaar deliver me!” the dwarf cried.

“What are you doing? Get away from it!  Get away from it!” Schlomo cried hysterically to the others. He was squatting in the pile of rotten dwarf corpses to keep the troll from noticing him by scent, and Kismet had moved in there with him.  She dismissed her spell and drew her bow.

Ratchis was coming around to get a better angle of attack on the troll when he heard the scrape of stone against stone behind him, above the din of the battle.  He took a quick look over his shoulder and noticed that the hallway they had seen before was decorated with a mosaic that was missing a great number of tiles, and at the top of the hall a portion of wall on the left side had open up revealin a narrow secret room beyond from within there poured light.

A tall blonde human figure in a chain shirt, and clutching a long sword in one hand stepped halfway out into the hall to better see the chamber.

“I wonder who that bitch is killin’ now?” he wondered aloud. “Oh sh*t, it’s the pig-f*cker and company!”

It was Gunthar. (4)


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

(1)	*DM’s Note*: _Radiant Spark_ is a spell unique to Aquerra, created by Eric Minton.

(2)	Streksis the Skrag entered the buried stronghold from the flooded levels below, forced from her tribe of subterranean water trolls in the Plutonic Realms by a stronger and tougher female, as troll society (if it can be called that) is matriarchal. 

(3)	*DM’s Note*: The troll scored a ‘helm removed’ critical hit on Beorth with her attack of opportunity.

(4)	The party last met Gunthar and his companions in Ogre’s Bluff, soon after having encountered them in the Honeycombe.  See sessions #23, #24 and #25.


----------



## Manzanita

Nice update, Nemm.  I love how old NPCs keep showing up.  Everyone has a piece of the puzzel, the PCs just have to keep putting it together.


----------



## handforged

This sounds like a pretty tough fight.  I really like the NPC reactions.  Hiding in a pile of corpses is pretty gruesome way of not being found and shows the absolute fear of the gnomes.

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

*part 2 (of 3)*

*Session #59 (part ii)*

Schlomo fired another crossbow bolt, but it went wide as he was being careful not to hit anyone else.  Kismet left her spot beside her fellow gnome and hurried over to hide behind one of the pillars, as the fight was moving in their direction. 

Suddenly the troll let out a ear-piercing hoot of rage, and began throwing her head back and forth violently, her flappy lips whipping around wildly flicking saliva and ooze all directions.  She opened her mouth and webs of spit clung between her sharp crooked teeth, and her muscles seemed to swell and expand. (1)  Her wounds seemed to suddenly begin to close even faster.

She stepped back and whipped her arms with a renewed frenzy that ripped a piece of flesh from Beorth, and sent Anarie spinning away, crying out in pain, leaving thin elven blood behind her.  Ratchis was slammed by the troll’s forehead, as he just barely dodged being crunched in her teeth.

“I’m out of spells!” Martin alerted everyone, fear making his voice quake, but then he snapped his fingers as something came to him.  He reached into the red leather bag he had gotten so long ago and pulled out a furry ball, which he quickly tossed in the troll’s direction.  As it flew through the air, spinning, it transformed into a screeching and hissing bobcat.

It cried out pathetically, as the troll caught it mid-air and ripped a huge chunk from its flank.  The animals small claws did not seem to be able to get through the troll’s blood and ooze rubbery hide. 

“Get that bitch out of the water,” Gunthar said.  He had that ever-present sneer on his angular unshaven face. He moved between Beorth and the troll as the former withdrew to help Kazrack. “She can even grow back her  in that stuff.” 

Suddenly, above the sound of the battle could be heard a golden tenor.  “_Cut out her bones and they won’t grow / Kick her out of her home, she won’t know / A troll makes for a bad neighbor!_”

The words were encouraging, and Martin could feel some of the quaking fear his limbs slip away. The homespun melody seemed to weave its way around the rhythms of the battle and lighten the hearts of the Fearless Manticore Killers, turning the melee into a dance of death.

From behind the secret door there stepped a familiar young man, with overly long curly brown locks and green eyes.  He was wearing what was probably a fine waistcoat in brown, stained with mud and blood and who knows what else, and he placed his hand over his heart as he sang, watching the battle intently, but holding a long sword, lightly in his other hand.  It was Frederick the Amazing.

Bolstered by the aid, Ratchis hacked at the troll once again, feeling the blade bite into bone and get caught for a second.  The half-orc barely yanked it free, but it was too late.  He felt the troll’s claws grab him on either side and draw him up by the armpits and bite deep into his shoulder, worrying him like a dog does to a small animal.  Thankfully for him, he did not feel the pain for long, as all went black.

Martin lodged another bolt in the thing’s back and it let go of Ratchis turning, and looking more confused.  The bobcat clawed, nearly ineffective, at the troll’s leg, so she just reached down and crushed it with one hand.  It disappeared.  And then with great speed, side-stepped and tore at Anarie, pulling her in for a bite.  The elf maiden collapsed, bleeding to death from a neck wound.

“Schlomo!  We need those healing potions you have,” Beorth called to the hiding gnome and pointing at Kazrack and Anarie.

A new figure came out from the secret room, shouldering past the bard rudely.  It was a short broad man wearing wolf skins over his chain shirt.  He had tangled black hair that reached past his chin, and a great two-handed battle axe.

Beorth began to creep forward to take on the troll again.

“That’s the trick, baldy,” Gunthar encouraged him.  “Let’s surround her!  She can’t kill all of us.”

“Bah! Debo no care what you say,” the squat barbarian said.  ‘Debo can’t die.”

The troll screeched when she saw Debo approach as if she recognized him and with great strength punched her clawed fist right into the barbarian’s gut, yanking him close to her by the end of an entrail she now held in her hand.  She ripped up his back and bit his chest open.  There was an explosion of blood, and gore dripped from the monster’s maw. 

She dropped Debo and screeched again, and the man was looked like a pile of ground beef on the tiled floor.

Beorth withdrew again, overwhelmed by the ferocity of the troll’s attack and the sudden and gruesome manner of Debo’s death.  

“Are we all lost?” he wondered aloud.

“Eh, don’t worry.  Debo will get back up,” Gunthar winked at the paladin, and then he charged at the troll, sword in each hand.  He cursed as the felt a claw try to fend off the attack, but he did not stop plunging the sword into her thigh.

“It is better to leave such a beast and avoid it than to waste your time attacking it,” said a voice, as yet another person emerged from the room.  “Let it test the strength of others.”

It was Aldovar, the suspicious priest of Gunthar’s company.  Dressed in black, and wielding a nasty looking mace, he had an olive complexion and was bald except for tufts of black hair behind his ears.  He seemed to have lost some of his girth from the last time the party had seen him; his double chin just a withered flap of skin on his neck.

As Kismet poured a potion down Anarie’s throat, Gunthar paid for his reckless charge, and he too suffered a horrific rending from the troll. 

“I’ve f*cked wenches tougher than you,” he cursed through bubbling blood, slipping into unconsciousness on the floor.

Anarie coughed awake, and then quickly clambered away, screened from the battle by Kismet.  The elf could feel a great weight on her body from having been so close to death just moments before.

Beorth was certain his next attack on the troll would be his last, so he knelt beside Kazrack and used the last of his healing power on Kazrack, just enough to stabilize the dying dwarf.  While he did this Aldovar stepped over and place a single finger on Beorth’s head.

“Take the unholy strength of my lord and finish that thing,” the dark priest said.  Beorth sneered at him, but could feel magical strength coursing through him.

“Ahh!  Ahh!” Schlomo cried out frantically, and fired point blank at the troll as it began to climb through the corpses to get at him.  “Help me!  Help me!”

Anarie scrambled to her bow and lifted an arrow to it, even though her arms felt like dead wood.  She let an arrow fly and buried itself through the back of the creature’s neck at an odd angle, peeking out the other side.  The troll reached for her neck and clawed at the arrow, falling unconscious.

“Beorth!  Drag it out of the water!” Martin cried to the paladin, dropping his crossbow to get a torch lit.

“My lord always respects great strength.  Let this half-breed live so that he may learn to use it for his own benefit,” Aldovar said, kneeling by Ratchis to stabilize the half-orc with a spell.

“Get it outta the water!  Get it outta the water!” Schlomo cried.  The gnome climbed out from the pile of moldering corpses, fishing a flask of oil from his pack.

Beorth grabbed one of the troll’s feet and began to pull her out of the muddy, muck-covered water that had dribbled out of the cracked fountain, but suddenly she screeched and sat up, clawing the paladin viciously.  Beorth lay on the ground, bleeding out.

Martin dropped his torch and scooped up his crossbow, while Anarie fired another arrow that missed.  Aldovar walked over as the troll spun around and clawed his leg, but was able to smash his heavy mace on her head.  The sound of her skull cracking echoed over Frederick’s singing.  The troll went down again.

“Musician!  Do something useful!” Martin chastised the bard, but the bard kept humming, leaning on the wall casually and watching the action.

Schlomo began to splatter oil on the troll, even as they could see her skull begin to re-knit itself. The dark priest stood over it, and ready to smash it once more, but this time the troll leapt up with great fury and he was driven back and suffered another deep scratch along his side. Schlomo slammed his hammer against the troll’s knee and down she went again.  Anarie fired an arrow right through here eye as she lay there.

There was a groaning sound, and Martin’s jaw dropped as he looked over to where Debo’s corpse  had been lying.  The barbarian was on his feet, and while he clutched his gut, most of his wounds seemed to have closed up leaving many scars.  Debo spit on the troll corpse.   

A moment later, the troll’s corpse was dragged out of the water and the corpse was burning brightly, filing the chamber with rancid smoke.

Martin went over to check Kazrack who seemed to have stabilized on his own. (2)

Schlomo and Kismet used their last potion on Beorth, which was supplemented by a quiet song from Frederick that seemed to heal the paladin even more.  

Aldovar saw to Gunthar.

“Uh… good fighting,” Anarie said to Debo who was just looking at the smoldering corpse with his emotionless visage.

He looked up at the elf, who as short was she was, was still taller than the barbarian.  “Debo can’t die!  Make babies with Debo!” His eyes bugged out as he stared at Anarie while giving his command.  “Make babies with Debo!”

“Uh, you should get help with those wounds,” Anarie replied, stepping away from him.

“Make babies with Debo!”

“Debo, make babies later.  Now is not the time for that,” Gunthar said, groaning as he stood.  “Anyway, you’d snap a little biddy like that in half with the monster you keep in you pants.” The warrior’s laughter collapsed into a cough.

He turned to Martin was trying not to look too shaken about the fact that aside from the gnomes only two members of the Fearless Manticore Killers were conscious.

“So what have you all been up to?”

“Oh, the usual…” Martin tried to sound casual.  “Looting and plundering.”

“Looting and plundering?  I didn’t think that kinda thing was your style,” Gunthar replied, shrugging his shoulders.  “And what about you friend, Jeremy?”

Martin explained very briefly about Jeremy’s second death.

“Well, you all can stay in this little secret room we’ve been hiding out in to rest,” Gunthar offered. “I don’t think anything in here knows about it, and we’ve been using it for a day or two while Rondar and some other heal up.  It will be cramped, but beggars can’t decline picking corn from sh*t when they’re starving. Ya know?”

“I will not give further aid to these,” Aldovar pronounced.  “If they want to join us in the room that is fine, but they must carry in their own dead and wounded.”

“Heck, I’ll help,” Frederick said, with a weak smile.

“Debo’s elf,” Debo said, pointing at Anarie and gritting his teeth at Frederick.

“_Levitatus,_” Martin entoned, and suddenly Kazrack’s heavy and unconscious form was floating beside him, allowing the weak mage to easily push him into the tiny secret room.

“Neat,” Frederick said, helping Gunthar drag Ratchis into the room.  “I’ve always wanted to learn that one.”

The room itself was a small hollowed space in a support wall, with torches scones and a metal ladder at one end.  It was no more than five feet wide and just slightly more than fifteen feet long.  Both groups would be severely cramped in there. 

There was a figure resting in the back corner, a tall lanky pimply-faced man.  His cheeks looked sallow, and he had a bloody bandage on his neck and leg.  Sitting next to his was short ugly man all in black, with a head of tight black curls, and pinched features.  Martin did a double take.  This man had not been with Gunthar’s company before, but the watch-mage recognized him none-the-less.  It was The Square. (3)

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

(1) *DM Note:* Streksis, the skrag, had four levels of barbarian. 

(2) *DM Note:* Kazrack’s player used a _hero point_ to stabilize himself one point before he would have died.

(3) The Square was the only member of Markle’s group of thieves to escape capture way back in Session #12.


----------



## Manzanita

*whew*

OK.  I'm supposed to be the FMK trivial pursuit winner, but I've lost track of these guys.  Is this the band with Jeremy's brother who they met in the Quaggoth dungeon?  I remember some, but not all of them.  I didn't think there were that many.  Nor do I remember the square or how he escaped.  I'm happy to see them none the less. I love the continuity of this campaign.  How everyone matters and comes back after a while.  (if they're not dead, of course.)

Gosh, what a tough battle.  That was some troll.


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> OK.  I'm supposed to be the FMK trivial pursuit winner, but I've lost track of these guys.  Is this the band with Jeremy's brother who they met in the Quaggoth dungeon?  I remember some, but not all of them.  I didn't think there were that many.  Nor do I remember the square or how he escaped.  I'm happy to see them none the less. I love the continuity of this campaign.  How everyone matters and comes back after a while.  (if they're not dead, of course.)
> 
> Gosh, what a tough battle.  That was some troll.





The party first met them upon their arrival in Summit, but then met them again months later while fighting quaggoths in the Honeycombe (beneath Ogre's Bluff). 

Yes, Gunthar is Jeremy's (older) brother, and except for the addition of the Square the number is the party is the same: Gunthar Northrop, Aldovar of Asmodeus, Debo the Unkillable, Frederick the Amazing and Rondar.

The Square squeezed through a tiny grate at the rear of the Royal Treasury while the rest of his crew was busy fighting Devon, Markle and Alexander Molar (the warlock).


----------



## monboesen

Great story.

I'm curious though, do you ever give the players (and characters) a break. I simply can't recall a battle they won easily (or without at least one person down and dying). 

I usually let this be one of the rewards of higher level. At times the characters encounter monsters, perhaps something they have fought with difficulty before, that they can defeat easily. In that way they get to appreciate their increased abilities.


----------



## handforged

Indeed, another battle that almost went the other way.  The description of the troll going into Rage was just excellent.  I was definitely more than a little bit worried at that point.  Thanks for the update.

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

monboesen said:
			
		

> Great story.
> 
> I'm curious though, do you ever give the players (and characters) a break. I simply can't recall a battle they won easily (or without at least one person down and dying).
> 
> I usually let this be one of the rewards of higher level. At times the characters encounter monsters, perhaps something they have fought with difficulty before, that they can defeat easily. In that way they get to appreciate their increased abilities.




Well, the entire Necropolis of Doom adventure did not lead to even one PC going to negative hit points, but the fights were still challenging - which I think they should be.

In encounters the story hour has not even gotten close to describing yet there have been decisive victories - but "The Pit of Bones" was a site I did not expect the party to go to quite so early (I had place another plot hook ahead of them that they ignored), so a combination of that and Jeremy dying (and his player dropping out of the game) led to much more difficult encounters in this place.


----------



## el-remmen

Oh, and thanks for stopping by Monboesen.  I don't remember seeing you in any of my stoyr hour threads before.


----------



## el-remmen

I am already working on the next installemnt.  I hope to get it done before I leave for Puerto Rico on Thursday.

It is a lot of talking and one fight - the first and last fight between the Fearless Manticore Killers and Gunthar's company.

Who lives?  Who dies?  Who will switch sides?  
The answers may surprise you!

But the talking will also reveal more of the labyrinthine plot.


----------



## el-remmen

*part 3 (of 3)*

*Session #59 (part iii)*

Anulem, the 14th of Sek – 565 H.E.

The night was a cramped and frightening one for Martin and Anarie.  The Fearless Manticore Killers laid out their wounded members so they could be as comfortable as possible, also close to one another and to the conscious members.  Gunthar and his group bedded down like soldiers.  They seemed to have a set watch order, because no one said anything to anyone, but they would take turns sitting up awake. 

Anarie could feel Debo’s eyes on her the whole time he watched.  Martin gave silent prayers to Isis and Fallon and Nephthys and Thoth and every god of good he could think of that might get him and companions through this.  He and the Square had not acknowledged each other, and were busy pretending not to recognize ach other, but the watch-mage had seen the weaselly little man whisper something to Gunthar, and the blonde brute had looked him over.  Martin did his best to warn Anarie and the gnomes, but could not be sure that the understood.

“Do you think it is daylight out yet?” Gunthar asked Debo what might have been days later to Martin’s mind.

Debo grunted his assent, and Aldovar spoke a prayer and soon the tiny room was filled with light.  Debo got up and opened the secret door.  From this side it was a simple iron bar and spring that held the door closed, from the other side it would have been indistinguishable from the mosaic if not for all the missing tiles.

“Is that safe?” Martin asked, looking at the door.

“We need to recirculate the air in here,” Gunthar replied.

Frederick crawled over to Beorth, who like Ratchis and Kazrack had still had not awakened.  However, the paladin was not as hurt as the other two, and the bard decided to help him on his way to consciousness and whispered a sung prayer of Fallon in his ear.  A moment later, Beorth sputtered awake.

“Uh, what happened?  Did we all survive,” Beorth sat up and shook his head trying to knock the exhaustion out of his body.

Martin explained what happened and where they were.  Smartly, he also added a reminder of where the party knew Gunthar and his companions from so that the paladin would not have to reveal his loss of memory, if at all possible.”

“None of us died,” Anarie added.  “Thanks to Gunthar and his people.”

Gunthar winked at her. “If you really want to show your opinion we can find a private corner, unless you elves all into the freaky out in the open kind of thing.”

Anarie grimaced, but did not reply to Gunthar’s crudeness.

Gunthar came over and pushed Frederick out of the way, plopping down beside the still gravely wounded paladin.

“So, Baldy!” he greeted him jocularly.  “What are you guys here for?”

“Uh, we’ve come in search of an item that will stop the spreading evil in this land,” Beorth relplied.

“Spreading evil, eh?” Gunthar said, chuckling.  “I prefer spreading asscheeks myself.”

“We’re looking for a key…” Martin shot Beorth a look and the paladin stopped.

“A key to what?” Gunthar asked, perking up.

“The entrance to…” Beorth paused again, not sure how to phrase it.  “A center of magic.”

“What does that mean?”

“We don’t really know.”

Gunthar’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t lie to me would you?”

“I do not lie,” Beorth said, lying.

“You are really looking for a key?”

“Yes.”

“You sure?” He looked to Anarie and then Martin.  The elf noticed that Aldovar stood and was listening intently to the conversation from the other side of the small room.  She could hear Schlomo and Kismet passing shrill whispers in gnomish between them.

“Yes,” Martin replied.

“Good then, because as long as we are not here for the same thing then we’ll have no problems and we can help each other out, right?” Gunthar said.

“What are you hear for?” Martin asked, a little too eagerly.

“It’s not a key,” was Gunthar’s reply.  “But I’ll tell you this, it, just like what we are looking for is probably below the flooded level.”

Kismet and Schlomo’s whispers stopped suddenly with the mention of ‘flooded level’, Martin noted, and then the whispered continued more heatedly.  Martin  had picked up some gnomish while in Garvan, but just the basic necessities and the subtly of this conversation were beyond him.  He picked up just a cluster of words here or there. (1)

“Can you tell us more about what you seek?” Beorth asked.  “We may have run across it on the upper levels and not have known.”

”I doubt it,” Gunthar said, shaking his head.  “If you had you would either have it with you or you would have left already.  I’m not dumb.”

There was an awkward silence, punctuated only by Schlomo and Kismet whispers, and then Gunthar continued.

“Let’s just say that it is the second to last piece required for our plan to slay the dragon.”

“So you think there is a dragon to slay?” Beorth asked.

“It would be stupid for all these people to come to this sh*thole backwater kingdom and not have a real dragon to slay,” Gunthar replied scornfully.

Meanwhile, Martin had heard enough from the gnomes’ conversation to determine they were talking about sneaking way in the night, and something about finding ‘the sword’.

The watch-mage had his journal on his lap and quickly scratched something down with a piece of charcoal, and leaned over to Kismet.

“How would pronounce this?” He said, pointing to what he had written and then said something in halting gnomish loud enough for Schlomo to hear as well. “Please don’t leave us.”

“Yes, that is almost right,” Kismet replied in Common. “But if you want that to work in a spell incantation you need to work on your alternating-accent inflection in cases of past-perfect tense.  Let’s practice some and I’ll correct you when you say it wrong.”

She winked at the watch-mage and what was supposedly a halting discussion on magic and language was really discussing the gnomes’ plans.

Kismet explained that she and Schlomo did not trust these humans, and that she was not sure she could trust the party to let them take what they wanted when it was found.

Martin promised to help.

“You have to swear that you will give us what it is we are looking for, if it is found and not let that other group get it, if it turns out to be the same thing,” she reiterated.

“What is it?” Martin asked.  “It would be easier if we understood what it was we should be keeping our eye out for.”

“It is not a map or a map-room,” Kismet replied.  “That is all you need to know for now.”

Schlomo nodded.

“Can anyone join in this conversation, or are you going to whisper and conspire in another language all private like all day?’ Frederick said, walking over and kneeling between Martin and the gnomes.  “You know, you aren’t the only ones that can be private.  I could be private with my healing.”

While this had been happening, Aldovar had gotten involved in Gunthar’s conversation with Beorth, and things were getting a bit heated.

“I am not convinced that their goals do not conflict with our own,” the dark priest was saying.  “I want assurances about the nature of this key.  What sort of key is it?”

“Nay!  I won’t tell you of it, for I know already the thought of what power it might bring you would have you slit our throats if you discover it,” Beorth spat back, standing.

“My god despises weakness and you are weak and frightened.  I can smell it on you,” Aldovar’s face was covered in creases from his and anger, and his words become covered in an accent that was not unlike Carlos’.  (2)

“I think a fight is going to start,” Martin said to Kismet in Common and Frederik looked at them both suspiciously, but then up to Aldovar and Beorth with nervousness.

“You do not follow a path that is good!” Beorth accused.

“It is good for me,” Aldovar replied, thumping his chest with a black mail gauntlet.

“That’s not the same thing,” Beorth replied. “I am not letting us be led astray by these false monks of Anubis and let otherworldly fiends come spilling into this world, and I am not going to let you do it either.”

Martin gagged.

“So, monks of Anubis are trying to pen the way for fiends to enter the world?” Aldovar’s dark eyes lit up.  “Tell me more, what kind of fiends?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Beorth replied.

“Of course it matters, whether it is the demonic renouncers of the Abyss that do not obey the Masters of Hell, or whether it is the Masters of Hell themselves, this matters…”   

“It does not matter,” Beorth said.  “Either kind would fall to my blade or I would fall trying.”

Aldovar gave a dry chuckle. “You are weak. It is strength that makes right.  It is power that justice serves.  Every tool is a weapon.”

“I have no more answers for you,” Beorth said.  “You will learn no more of this from me.”

“I could learn it from your corpse with a sprinkling of incense and a word to my lord,” Aldovar said.

“Come and try,” Beorth replied, reaching for his sword, but he barely had it in his grip when Debo, returning from stretching his legs in the hall brought the flat of his axe down on Beorth’s head.  There was loud crunch and down went the paladin, bleeding out again, laying there unarmored from when his wounds were being tended.  “Debo want elf-maid for harem!” he said, apropos of nothing.

Martin leapt to his feet, seeing Aldovar pull his mace and step towards Beorth’s bleeding form.  “_Lentus_!

He did not have a chance to see who was affected, because he was trying to get out the door past Debo, when Anarie came hurtling over them both, leaping and diving, tucking into a ball and past the barbarian, who reached out to smash her but missed, but taking a nick from her sword as she past.

“Frederick! Get them to listen to reason!” Kismet beseeched the confused bard and with a word tow _magic missiles_ slammed into Aldovar’s chest.  She move out into the hall as well, and the bard followed her.

Martin’s eyes were drawn to the Square who suddenly decided he did not want to see the outcome of this fight and hurried up the metal ladder through the secret door above, and he was unable to warn Anarie when Gunthar snapped up to his feet like a panther striking her with his long sword twice, sent her down to bleed atop Beorth.

“I didn’t want to have to do that,” Gunthar said, turning to Martin.  

“We’ll fight them better in the open,” Frederick suggested, and stepped back to let Martin through.  “Run!” he whispered to the watch-mage.

“Kismet! Get out of here!” Schlomo called to his friend, as he smashed his hammer into Debo’s hip.  The barbarian’s axe rang out against the warhammer, and the force of the blow sent ripples of numbness up the gnome’s arm.

“Debo hate little things!’ Debo cried.  “Get away little things!  Debo smash little things!”

Martin hustled out of the little room, and Frederick made an exaggerated gesture of catching him and ‘missing’.

Gunthar took off after Martin who hurried back into the chamber that was dominated by the cracked fountain.

Martin stopped and turned.  “Gunthar, I know the truth about Jeremy Northrop.”

“What did you say about my brother?” Martin could recognize a resemblance in how Gunthar casually approached him, a sword in each hand, a grin on his dirty mouth.  Jeremy had the sane strut when fighting, though not as world-wise a look in his eyes.

Aldovar came out through the door, and Kismet tried to trip him, but the big man merely stepped over it, lifting his great mace.  Frederick stumbled forward with his sword out and gave the dark priest a shallow cut as he emerged through the door.

“Oops! I thought you were someone else!” the bard lied through a smile.

Schlomo and Debo exchanged blows.  “Aaagh!  Debo hate little things!”

Martin continued to back away from the blonde warrior, and spoke an arcane word, several shimmering versions of the green-robed mage appeared, hurrying hither and thithering, each likely to be momentarily doing something else, as all to be doing as the real Martin did.  He shifted back and forth, trading places with his mirror images.

“You have six seconds to explain what you are talking about,” Gunthar said, suddenly becoming very serious.

Kismet cast her rolling ball of fire at Aldovar, who side-stepped and swung at her, missing, for hse used her size and speed to great advantage.

“I know! I’ll _charm_ her!” Frederick announced and sang a little song and pointed at the gnome.

“It’s not polite to point,” Kismet replied, her will still her own.  “It is better to gesture subtly and whisper.”

“I traveled with him for nearly a year,’ Martin explained.  “You met him.  It was Jeremy. Our Jeremy.  The resemblance was obvious to everyone but him, and he refused to learn more about you for some reason.  He didn’t die, at least not when your family thought he did.   He ran away.”

“So where is he now?” Gunthar’s blades lowered a bit. 

Kismet hurried away from Aldovar who chased her further into the hall, and she willed the flaming sphere to intercept him.  The flames licked his black robes and he the priest leapt back cursing.

“We should stop fighting,” Kismet said, desperately thinking of a lie to keep her and her companions alive.  “The half-orc has the information you want about what they are really here for.  He is the only one who knows. Killing us won’t do anything!”

“Oh, dark lord,” Aldovar began to intone. “Let my service to you be like a shield.”  A shimmering shield of dark energy seemed to encase the priest.

“We told you before,” Martin said, continuing his parley with Gunthar.  He died, but the reason behind his dying…it…it was all the fault of fiends, fiends like the ones Aldovar is in league with.  He can’t be trusted, think about who you want on your side.  We don’t even care about the dragon or the reward.”

“I hate lil things!” Debo screamed again, returning a hard blow that Schlomo had dealt him, that knocked the gnome off his feet.  “Stay down, little thing!”

Gunthar sighed and looked to see where Aldovar was still bearing down on Kismet as she continued to back away and harry him with the flaming sphere.

“Well, I was going to have to kill him eventually anyway,” Gunthar said, turning around. “You can’t trust devil-worshipers as far as you can throw them.”

And with that the blonde warrior charged at the dark priest, cleaving into the man’s heavy armor.  Aldovar was knocked back, his face a mask of anger and surprise.  Keeping out of reach of Gunthar’s deadly blades, he cast another spell. “Asmodeus, give me your strength!”

The priest knocked away a dagger thrown at him by Frederick and licked his teeth,

“You will all rue the day you crossed and my dark lord,” the priest said. “Your unwillingness to make the proper sacrifices will be your failing.”

“I give up,” Schlomo said, getting to his feet and then faking a stumble, smashing the barbarian in the groin.   The gnome cried out as he felt his armor absorb the weight of an axe blow, but the pain was still fierce.  However, Debo who was still hurt from his fight with the troll doubled over and for a moment began to bleed out again, having pulled open his wounds with the effort of the blow. 

Schlomo thanked Fezzik (3) and ran out into the hall to see to Kismet, but she was now a safe distance from the dark priest now that Gunthar and Frederick were fending him off.

Kismet willed the flaming sphere to leap towards Aldovar even as she sent two more _magic missiles_ to slam into him.  The dark priest swore under his breath and fell over, unconscious, flaming beginning to ignite his clothes.

There was a sudden roar from the room and Debo came charging out.  Schlomo was taken unaware and started, but Gunthar got between the.

“Debo! No!  The fight is over,” Gunthar said, still clutching his weapons in a defensive posture.

“I thought he was dead!” said Schlomo in shock.

“Nyah! It’d take a lot more than a gnome with a hammer to him _him_,” Frederick said.  “No offense.”

“Debo hates little things!” Debo said.

“I tried to tell him to leave me alone.  I have no problem.  Kismet, you have a problem?” He looked to his companion nervously.

“My only problem was with him,” Kismet replied, pointing to Aldovar.

“He’s no one’s problem anymore,” Frederick said, and then lifting his long sword whacked Aldovar right in his neck, nearly cleaving the priest head off.

“Oh my!” Kismet cover her mouth.

“You didn’t… I mean, was it necessary?” Martin said, covering his own mouth as he approached.

“He had it coming for a long time,” Frederick replied. “If you had seen him do some of the things I have seen him do, and knew of some of the things he hinted at you’d have wanted to kill him yourself.”

“He was more evil than a limp-d*cked pimp that makes his legless whore of a daughter drag her diseased ass through Saltbottoms to find some customers,” Gunthar added. (4)

Martin suddenly remembered Anarie and ran into the room, but she had stabilized on her own.  HE tended to her wounds.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Gunthar said, laughing. “But it could have gone either way.  Certainly wasn’t how I planned to thrust at her, if I had my way. So anyway, we helped you, and now you owe us.”

“Wha… What do you want?” Martin asked nervously.  He checked on Beorth and stabilized him and then did a double check on Kazrack and Ratchis.

“Free exchange of information,” Gunthar replied.  “You tell us why you’re really here and we’ll tell you why we’re here and we’ll help each other accomplish those goals and then go our separate ways.”

“Debo hate little things!”

“Debo, shut your damn pie-hole!” Gunthar snapped.  “Aldovar’s dead, and I’m the leader now, just like it always was.”

He turned to Martin and whispered with a wink, “Little things remind him of what he’s got between them bowed legs of his.”

“Is that all you want by way of payment?” Martin asked, hopeful that that would be the case.

“No.”

“No?”

“No, I also want to know everything you can tell m about my brother Jeremy,” Gunthar said.  “That stupid elf-f*cker had a chance to meet me and he didn’t and I want to know why.  I mean, I know that he never knew I existed until recently, but I always knew he existed. Our dad, that rotten bastard, would tell me all about what Jeremy was up to the few times he came to visit my mum – that is when he wasn’t not sending my mum money for a year forcing her to whore herself some more.”

There was a long silence, and suddenly Gunthar looked around the little room.

“Square!” He called up to the trap door.  “You can come out.  The fighting is over.”

There was no response.

“You know he’s a thief, right?” Martin asked.  “We have run into him before.”
“Are we going to have trouble?” Gunthar asked the watch-mage looking very serious again.

“Uh, no… not if he doesn’t start any,” Martin replied, worrying what Kazrack and Ratchis would say about the turn of events during their unconsciousness.

“Good.  So, what are you guys here for?”

“Beorth was telling the truth.  We are looking for the key to a great nexus of magic, of planes,” Martin said.  “There is a map or a map room of some kind that is supposed to show us where it is. Have you seen anything like that?”

“No, but I bet it’s below the flooded level,” Gunthar replied.  Martin noted that once again Kismet and Schlomo looked at each other when the ‘flooded level’ was mentioned.

“And you?” The watch-mage asked to mask the gnomes’ reactions.  “What are you looking for?”

“A sword. Some magical blade or other,” Gunthar said, grabbing some salt pork from his pack.  “Freddie Firepants can tell you al about it.”

“Don’t call me that again, Gunthar or we’re going to have a little talk,” Frederick said from out in the hall where he was stripping Aldovar’s body anything valuable with Debo.

“Whatever, hotpants!” Gunthar guffawed and then snorted. “Anyway, it is supposed to be some dragonbane or something.  We plan to give it to Debo and let him have at it.  Too big for me, and anyway I have another role in _the plan_.”

“What’s the plan?” Martin asked.

“That’s a secret!” Gunthar snapped his mouth shut in piece of pork and smiled. “In that regard I am going to keep my mouth as tight as your momma shoulda made her crack if she wanted to keep from having anymore kids as ugly as you, doughboy.”

Martin was taken aback by the insult.

“But he’s not doughy…” Kismet said, entering the room.

“Ah, but he used to be.  He was when I last met him. Looks like the pig-f*cker’s been starving you or you been in prison. That’s why it’s funny, it’s called ‘irony’.  Iron as my pecker is gonna be all night if I have to look at that flower-sniffing piece of ass all night just lying there all defenseless,” He pointed at Anarie as if she had just come to his attention.  “I’m going to sleep.  In fact, we should all bunk down and get some rest.  The sooner these losers wake up the sooner we can go find our sword and your map and get the hell out of the sh*thole.  This place is blacker than the cankor on the end of Old Pete’s c*ck.”

Gunthar laughed out loud, and it reverberated out into the hall, even as Frederick was closing the secret door again.

“Martin, we fought for you, you watch,” Frederick said, grabbing The Square’s bedroll and rolling it up into a pillow for himself.

Debo squat in the corner and grunted softly into the night, and Martin turned down the lantern so there was only the slightest glow.

Martin waited a long time until he heard the regular breathing of the others grow long and then he waited even longer.  Finally, he whispered over to Kismet.  “You awake?”

“Yes,” she whispered back.

“I got one eye open,” Schlomo added.

“You need to tell me what is going on,” Martin whispered.  “If I am going to help you and we are going to figure out a way to survive this you need to tell me. Why don’t you trust me?”

“Can’t trust anyone,” Schlomo hissed.

“Hush, Schlomy,” Kismet said.  “I think we should tell him.”

“_She_ might know,” Schlomo said in the gnomish tongue.

“We’ll have to risk it.”

“Is ‘she’ the dragon?” Martin asked.

“Hush!” Kismet chastised.  “Quieter and we’ll do it in gnomish.  I’ll go slow and use small words so you’ll understand.”

Martin rolled his eyes in the dark.

“Okay, why are you working for her, or are afraid she’ll see or hear you?” Martin asked.

“I don’t think you should tell him,” Schlomo whispered angrily.  “People lives are depending on us doing what she said.”

“And people’s lives depend on us getting that sword,” Kismet whispered back.

“You want the sword, too?” Martin was astounded.  “Why does a dragon want a dragon-slaying sword and why send you?”

“So, it can’t be used against her, dummy!” Schlomo said.

“Because we were there in her lair and available to her to use,” Kismet replied.

“Huh? How did you come to stumble upon her lair?”

“There is a way there through the Honeycombe,” Kismet replied.

“_You_ were in the Honeycombe?” Martin was astounded. (5)

“Yes…”

Schlomo interrupted, “That’s no way to tell a story.”

Kismet nodded in the dark.

“Okay, stop asking questions and listen,” the female gnome said, bringing her high squeaky voice down to a shrill whisper as she crawled over to talk right in Martin’s ear.  Schlomo waited a moment and squirmed over, too in order to hear.

“There were nineteen of us that left Garvan with the Chieftain and Creedadal the master illusionist to seek out the aid and advice of the elves about what to do about the human encroaching on our forest and to reinforce the old treaties from the Mountain Wars.  However, we took an old underground route, hoping to come upon the elven enclave from beneath, and we did not expect to run into the white bear-men.”

“You mean the quaggoths.”

“Hush!” Schlomo flicked the watch-mage’s ear. “Just listen!”

“In the chaos of the caves, we became separated,” Kismet continued. “We had been warned of ogres we might have to sneak past, but fighting so many of those bear-creatures was too much for us.  We fled and became separated, more than once, but two groups of us found each other very far from there, days and days away, and we were not sure in which direction, to areas of the caves that we did not have maps for.”

“I think we ended up northwest,” Schlomo added.

“Now, _I_ say ‘hush’” Kismet reprimanded him a little too loudly, so they all remained quiet for a long time before Martin finally asked her to continue.

“It was way out there that we came upon a tunnel we thought was to the surface, but brought us to the dragon’s lair, and she captured us,” Kismet’s voice was filled with fear from the very memory of the beast.  I’ve never been so scared in all my life, but she spoke to us soothingly, almost lovingly.  The chieftain said that she was of the forest kind of like how we gnomes are, or elves are said to be, but of a darker side and you could feel it when she looked at you with her amber-colored snake’s eyes.”

Martin shuddered.

“She informed us that she was going to use us to run some errands for her.  She said if we got her the sword from here that she would let us all go.  She sent out six at first, but they never came back. So a few months later, she sent out another five of us, including Creedadal himself to get the sword, and that is what we are doing here.  She told us that she had been sleeping a long time and was hungry and we had better hurry, and that she would know if we were not actively trying to get the sword.  She also told us that it was ‘below water’ and gave us those potions along with some other ones that are supposed to let us breathe underwater.”

Kismet paused.

“Do you really think the dragon will let anyone who knows where her lair is live?  Dragons are tricksy,” Martin said.  “It may not be wise to bring her the sword.”

“What choice do we have?” Schlomo asked.

“And those men, they cannot kill the dragon with or without the sword,” Kismet said.  “Being in her lair is like being in the presence of ancient storm that thinks…or something.”

Martin shuddered again.

“We will help you how we can with your quest if you help us with ours,” Kismet said, and Schlomo nodded.  “This place you seek, does it have to do with the dimensional bleed?”

“The what?” Martin was surprised again.

“Creedadal mentioned it,” Kismet replied.  “I could only just barely grasp what he meant, but he said that something was going screwy with the planes of existence and things were bleeding back and forth between them.  He said that was where the fiendish wyvern came from.”

She paused.

“It was the fiendish wyvern that killed him,” she added, even more softly.

“Yes, we have found evidence of that as well,” Martin replied.  “And I think the place we seek is the key to reversing it and making sure that others do not accelerate it.”

“I think _you_ have a story to tell _us_,” Schlomo said, and Kismet agreed.  Martin took a deep breath and went into a length explanation of the party’s adventures, trying his best emulate gnomish-style story-telling.

It was hours before he brought them to the point in the story when Jeremy died, and around then Ratchis began to stir.

Not enough time had passed for this to be another morning, but then again they had long ago lost all sense of time having been underground for days.  

As Ratchis prayed, and once again Frederick sang a little hymn in Beorth’s ear, Martin asked Gunthar, “So, do you really think you can defeat the dragon?”

“Of course!  We have a plan, and when it is implanted I am going to split her open like a 13 year old begging for some of the ole Northrop loving.”

“Enough!” Ratchis barked, ending his prayers. “You are going to watch your mouth.”

“And you are going to stick to the deal dough-boy agreed to in order to save all your sorry-asses, pig-f*cker!”

Ratchis looked at Martin and scowled.

“We killed our only source of healing for you and your crew, you damn do sure owe us!” Gunthar Northrop insisted.  “We help you find this map or map-room or whatever it is and you help us find the dragon-killing sword.  Clean and simple.”

There was a long silence, during which Ratchis never turned his eyes from Martin the Green.

“It’s a deal?” Gunthar asked.

“It is a deal as long as you do not anything that would ask me to compromise my ethics,” Ratchis replied.  He still rested his stare heavily on the watch-mage.

“Oh! All this stipulations and guidelines!  What am I? In my father’s house? A deal is a deal between men and between men and half-men-pig-f*cker things.”

“Do not call me pig-f*cker,” Ratchis replied.

“That’s what you are, or your blood is, dirty buggers that they are, not that I wouldn’t pop the ole Johnson in an orc lass if I was really hard up or something and didn’t have to look at her face, not that I am ever really hard up or anything, normally all the wenches are biting like fish at my manly bait, if ya know what I mean…”

“Shut up!” Ratchis barked.  “It is a deal.”

“Hell, this whole agreement works out I can go on to help you with the plane-nexus thing of whatever. Then crazy places always have lots of magic and wishes and stuff in the stories about the Age of Adventurers (6), maybe I can even find a way to bring Jeremy back to life.”

Ratchis sighed.  “He was already brought back once.”

“What!? That’s crazy talk!”

“But true…”

Gunthar looked to Martin who nodded.

“Jeremy Twice-Lived! I’ll write a song about him,” said Frederick.

“Well, if he was brought back once he can be brought back again, right?” Gunthar insisted.

“Anything is possible,” Ratchis replied rolling his eyes.

The others would not awake until the next day, even with Ratchis’ healing, but the days had long since begun to meld into each other.

Kazrack awoke with a start and had to be told right away everything that had happened.

Martin sighed as he felt _Lacan’s Demise_ kick into effect.

*End of Session #59* 


*Notes*

(1)	*DM’s Note:* Martin picked up a single rank in the gnomish language, allowing him to understand and undertake simple everyday conversations one might need to get around in day to day life.  He was allowed Speak Language checks to grasp more complicated portions of the conversation with varying DCs depending on the difficulty and specificity as determined by the DM. 

(2)	Both Carlos and Aldovar are from the El Reino Unido de Familias Superiores (UKSF).

(3)	Fezzik is a gnomish god.

(4)	‘_Saltbottoms_’ is a neighborhood of Earthsea City in the Kingdom of Neergaard.

(5)	The Honeycombe is the network of caves beneath Ogre’s Bluff where the Fearless Manticore Killers encountered the quaggoths  (See Session #23).

(6) ‘The Age of Adventurers’ is a large portion of the Third Age of great heroes in various parts of Aquerra.


----------



## el-remmen

Whoa!

That one ended up being a lot longer than I thought it would!

And here I was thinking I could do this session in _two_ installments, when if I had planned it out better it would have been _four_!

Anyway, enjoy.

I am off to Puerto Rico for a few days tomorrow afternoon.  See ya next week!


----------



## Manzanita

Wow.  Now we're getting somewhere.  That was quite an update.  I should have known there really was a dragon.  Every party should fight a dragon someday.

I must admit I found it quite humorous at times, although not all the time.

Are you going to clue us in on what the deal is with Debo?  Is he wearing a ring of regeneration?


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## el-remmen

*Out of the Frying Pan Trivia*

*Time for some Out of the Frying Pan Trivia!*

Can you answer these questions?

_What were the Mountain Wars?_

_Name Three Gnomes the PCs have met that are *NOT* related._

_What did the Fearless Manticore Killers agree to do for Daniel the Castle Steward in return for their freedom when have the group was arrested?_

_Who is Barnstable the Brown?_

_Aside from Jana (obviously) who were the first two PCs to see Rindalith?  Where was it?_

Good luck!


----------



## Pyske

Top of the head, without research:

1) 



Spoiler



War that created the kingdom, in which the humans made war on the dwarves. (?)



2) no clue

3) 



Spoiler



Find and return the queen' diary. preeraby without reading it.  Suspected to be in the posession of Rindalith.



4) 



Spoiler



Former colleague of Martin's, deceased, who sent Derek to help in the dragon hunt (with info on the dragon).



5) 



Spoiler



Martin & Jeremy, saw him in beast form, flying from the castle during the initial attack by Devon's group.



Now if I could only remember any gnomes...

 . . . . . . . -- Eric


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## Manzanita

*trivia*

OK.  These are hard.  I can't answer any of them accurately, and honorably pass my crown as FMK trivia master onto Pyske the lurker.  I do remember that Rinalith was first sighted out a window during the Markel battle in the castle.  Nice that he's not going away just because Jana died.  He was an interesting one.


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## mofos21

Ooh . . . Trivia!  I would play, but I think I have an unfair advantage.


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## el-remmen

Aw crap!  It seems my attempt at trivia has distracted people from commenting on the installment itself and the speculative types.

As for the answers. . I'll wait to post them, but as for Psyke's attempts I'll say

1) Is basically correct, but exceedingly vague.

3) Correct.

4) Half right.

5) Two-thirds right.


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## el-remmen

mofos21 said:
			
		

> Ooh . . . Trivia!  I would play, but I think I have an unfair advantage.





What's that?  You don't play in this campaign, so I can;t see how you could. . .  (Not that I think my own players could answer them all )


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## el-remmen

Here are some more to ponder:

6) Who is Morrus Gont?

7) Who is going to be the "Champion" of the Circle of the Thorn?

8) How did Ratchis get out of responsibility for vandalizing the king's stuffed orc trophies?

9) What  was the name of Escher of Fallon's former adventuring party?  (Bonus question: What was their fate?) 

10) Name all five members of "The Shepherds".


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## Pyske

Rats!  For #1, I couldn't remember the name of the darn kingdom, I keep wanting to call it Goneril.  I'm curious to see which parts I have wrong for #4 and #5.

I can only get #7 out of the new set (partials on #8 & #10).  I expect _someone_ here can do better than that.

 . . . . . . . -- Eric


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## el-remmen

*Question*

As some of you know, I have been re-reading and editing the first two books of the "Out of the Frying Pan" story hour for posting as a download (the first book is already done), but as I was reading last night I noticed where the first major break in the campaign was from where I thought would happen, or seemed likely to happen to what actually happened, and it amazed me how it really effect the direction and tone of the campaign in some pretty serious ways.

I then began to recall othe places where I had to craft and re-craft the campaign to handle new ideas or directions I did not expect the PCs to go in, or PC deaths and I thought it might be cool to do an annotated version of the story hour with more extensive notes about such things and how I dealt with them and what was planned and what was not, and what were the sources for things, etc. . .

This is the kind of thing I would have posted about here in the the story hour threads, but since hardly anyone ever asked I never bothered - but since no one ever asked I was wondering if such a thing would even be of interest to any of my regular or not so regular readers?

Of course, this annotated version would be filled with spoilers for itself since notes would refer to later developments in the campaign.

The primary example (and what made me think of this) was the PCs' arrival in Summit for the first time and their little "haunted inn" adventure (which turned out to be the 'traitor' gnomes doing it). . .  The PCs went directly after the gnomes, while I was sure they would erroneously connect the disappearing townsfolk with the events of the inn and investigate that, eventually finding the packs of gnolls responsible and their connection to the false priest of bast outside of town (essentially completing the adventure I had 'the Shepherds' complete when it had been ignored long enough) and _then_ tangle with the gnomes and meet up with Mozek and be slightly higher level when meeting him and eventually getting to Aze Nuquerna to fight the charmed elves and Richard the Red at an even higher level (with more time having passed).

I was trying something different by having two unconnected adventures overlap in such a way that one led to another or that clues would bring the PCs in one direction or another - hoping that the PCs would avoid the more obscured one (the actions of the gnomes) for the more concrete and immediate task of finding missing people.


----------



## Jon Potter

I, for one, would be interested in such annotations.


----------



## mofos21

Wow.  I'm finally caught up with the story hour.  You have a wonderful writing style, nemm, and the story really drew me in - from your intricate plot to the interesting personalities of your NPCs.  Not to mention the great portrayal of the PCs by your players (and your writing, of course).  Now, maybe I'll understand the "withdrawal" that your other readers seem to go through when waiting for an update.    

It will be interesting to see what happens next, as Martin now "owes" Guthar and his group.  It's a good thing that Guthar only asked the FMK to help find the sword, as Martin already promised to help the gnomes get it.  Although, I'd assume Gunthar felt that "getting the sword" was implied . . .

I would love to see the special edition story hour with DM commentary.  Although I would be hesitant to read it at this moment, as I would rather not have my future story hour reading spoiled, it would be very interesting to see the "behind the scenes" at a later date.


----------



## Manzanita

I would love the annotated version.  I'm very interested in this adventure, not just as a good story, but as an actual DnD campaign, plotted not just by the DM, but by the decisions of the players.  I would even reread the first parts if you put that stuff in.


----------



## Lawrence of Arabica

Another vote for the annotations.


----------



## el-remmen

Well, it will be some time before I can have those versions ready.

I will probably finished editting BOOK II and then go back and make the annotated versions for the first two books.  Last night in my editting I got as far as the first time the PCs got to Garvan and their "brief" stay there waiting for the return of the Interim Chief.

There is going to be a lot to write about that section - since it was kind of hub in the campaign where the PCs could go in a ton of different directions, and also because decisions had to be made both in-game and in a meta-sense about the cohesion of the party since there was a conflict between Jana and the rest of the party (helping Markle), Kazrack and Jana, and Kazrack and Ratchis (and to some extent, the rest of the party), because of the oath.


----------



## Dolza

*Finished finally!*

Nem, 
  i just finished your story hour and loved every minute of it!  I'm jealous of the depth of character and interactions you get from your players.  As i was approaching the end here i was blown away losing two characters in what seemed like no time.  

  The other thing i love is the interwoven plots and adventures.  until the last post or two i found myself wondering if there really was a dragon or not!  I'm glad to find that there is one and maybe we'll get to see some dragon fighting before too long.  

  Lastly, i'd like to second someone's question about Debo.  He seems to have an amazing recuperative quality about him.  does he have some sort of ring of regeneration?  if so, does his item have its drawbacks like Martin's?

thanks for the hours of entertainment!

derek


----------



## el-remmen

Dolza said:
			
		

> Nem,
> i just finished your story hour and loved every minute of it!  I'm jealous of the depth of character and interactions you get from your players.  As i was approaching the end here i was blown away losing two characters in what seemed like no time.




Those two deaths hit the campaign hard and really made it turn totally in the direction of dark and dour, when in the past it always angled that way and then turned back, saved by the antics of folks like Jeremy and Derek - but without them - the seriousness of the situation and the reality of failure as a possibility for the party really hit home.  And yes, failure is a possibility. . . None of this, 'the heroes always win', bullcrap - and my players know it.



			
				Dolza said:
			
		

> The other thing i love is the interwoven plots and adventures.  until the last post or two i found myself wondering if there really was a dragon or not!  I'm glad to find that there is one and maybe we'll get to see some dragon fighting before too long.




The players weren't sure either.  I mean, all evidence pointed to the 'dragon' being a combination of gnomish illusions and confused sightings of the manticore and perhaps other monsters.  I really enjoy turning conventions on their head and making you wonder right up to the last minute.  There are more surprises to come. . eventually. . .



			
				Dolza said:
			
		

> Lastly, i'd like to second someone's question about Debo.  He seems to have an amazing recuperative quality about him.  does he have some sort of ring of regeneration?  if so, does his item have its drawbacks like Martin's?




As this has not yet been revealed in game and since the party may yet meet up with Debo again before the campaign is over I would rather not reveal this yet. . .  But sufficed to say, little magic in Aquerra does not have a drawback or short-coming.   



			
				Dolza said:
			
		

> thanks for the hours of entertainment!
> 
> derek




Thank _you_, Derek.  Especially for gracing us with your very first post on these boards.  May I ask how you heard of this story hour?


----------



## Dolza

*how'd i hear?  more like how'd i see!*

Well, i came to enworld a year or so ago and started reading Pcat's story hour and enjoyed it immensely.  From there i perused a couple of the other popular stories and then i saw your Aquerra banner one day and that tweaked my interest.  so i looked through your portal threads until i found the beginning of the story.  i spent lots of "downtime" at work reading and finally with some time off work this summer, i was able to finish it.    

  i ran a game for about a year for my players and it was much more linear in scope.  of course that was easy for me being a new DM, and we all had a good time.  if we start again i'd really like to incorperate the sense of recurring NPCs and sights.  Of course having let my characters run up and down the coast of my world i'm not sure i could keep them confined to a smaller scale place now.  

  Speaking of npc's, i think how to make them real to the characters is what i'm going to take away from reading your story the most.  I love Richard the Red.  Is he good, bad, or ugly?  or all of the above.  Great stuff with him, he gives Martin some spells, gives some info and holds back other things.  His actions aren't what the party always wants but they continue to work with him.  I think i made the mistake of having so many people my PCs met an advesary of some kind, too black and white.  so thanks for showing me the grey side of npcs!


derek


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## el-remmen

Wow!

Quadruple post!    

Thanks again for giving OOTFP a chance and sticking with it.  

As for Richard the Red, I consider him a "successful recurring npc" - someone interesting enough and wrapped up enough to keep around and with enough texture to make the PCs question the wisdom of killing him (or keeping him alive).   If anything, he is the one that is pissed now because of Martin's treatment of him last time they met.  Another meeting should be very interesting.

The funny thing is originally he was going to be a generic wizard of a different organization (the Conclave of Sorcery), but when Martin joined the game I decided to use Richard the Red an NPC actually created in the background for the last person to play a watch-mage in an Aquerra campaign I ran - that never got a chance to appear in that game (he was the character's father).


----------



## el-remmen

*part 1 (of 2)*

*Session #60*

“Wow. That’s a nice flail,” Frederick said, pointing to the golden dwarf-headed flail that Kazrack had taken off of the wight dwarf. “Mind if I take a closer look at it?”

Kazrack looked the bard up and down, but handed the weapon over without fear.  He was still trying to digest all he had been told of what had transpired while he was on death’s door.  Martin did not seem to be telling the whole story and Gunthar insisted they owed him their lives.  Ratchis seemed eager to keep moving, trying to push the topic of a deal to be discussed later.  However, he did want to talk with the rest of the Fearless Manticore Killers away from Gunthar and his crew.

Frederick oohed and aahed over the flail as he examined it.

“Where are you going?” Gunthar asked, suspiciously, as Ratchis cast _light_ on a burnt out torch and opened the secret door.

“We are going out into the hall to talk privately,” Ratchis responded.

“Huh? Keeping secrets?  Why should I let you go and plan some scheme to screw me and my crew over?” Gunthar spat.  “What do you think I am green-eared?”

“Do you know anything about my goddess?” Ratchis asked.

“Yeah, I know about your goddess,” Gunthar replied, exasperated.

“Then you know I will not betray you.”

“Ha!” Gunthar spat again, and smiled. “Like a Friar of Nephthys never betrayed anyone.”

Ratchis just stared at Gunthar.

“You go and make your little schemes then if they are so important to you, just remember this is a dangerous place it is in both of our interests to work together, pig-f*cker.”

Ratchis snarled and walked away.  By this time Anarie and Beorth were up as well, and they came out into the hall as well, followed by Martin and Kazrack.  Schlomo and Kismet kind of hung out just outside of the doorway, not sure if they should join the conversation.

“Are we going to be down here much longer?  I don’t like it,” Tuko whispered to Anarie in her mind.  The fox shivered underneath her cloak.

“As long as if takes to help these people,” Anarie replied.

“I’m hungry,” Tuko said, changing the subject.  “What do you think squirrel tastes like?”  The scent of Thomas had whiffed into his nostrils.

“Hmmmm, I don’t know, but I have heard it tastes like chicken.”

“Mmmmmmm, chicken!  I love chicken!”

“Hush Tuko!”

Martin went over everything that had happened since the fight with the troll the best he could, and explained about how the Square had been with Gunthar and his crew, but had since disappeared.  He also explained that Gunthar and his people did not know that the gnomes were after the sword as well, and that they both want help finding the dragon-slaying sword.  He also explained that the map-room was most likely in or beneath a level or more submerged beneath water.  Anarie explained that she had the _water-breathing_ spell in a book she carried, but was not yet able to use it.  She gave Martin permission to study it, so that it might be used to get the party down there.  

“We have potions, too,” Kismet added, walking over.  Schlomo was right behind her.

“I don’t know if I feel comfortable helping that dragon take the sword,’ Ratchis said.  “She is trying to limit her chances of being defeated.  How does Tanweil fit in?”

“We don’t know how he found out about us,” said Schlomo, but he attacked us one night as we camped.  He might have been secretly listening in to our planning or something.  Called us ‘servants of the dragon’ and said only he deserved to wield the sword and destroy the dragon.”

“I see our options as these,” said Kismet. “Slay the dragon ourselves with your help, sneak the chieftain out, or trust the dragon to keep her word and bring her the sword.”

“I don’t know what we can do,” Ratchis said.

“It seems our word has been given for us twice,” Beorth said sullenly.  “But I trust these men very little despite our still being alive and I do not trust their chances against the dragon, sword or no.”

“Oh, ho!  I heard that!” Gunthar’s voice came from inside the secret room.  “I heard you mention a sword.  You are considering double-crossing me, aren’t ya?”

The blonde and bearded Neergaardian came out of the room.

“Pretend like me and Kismet are the ones you are betraying,” Schlomo whispered to Ratchis and Kazrack.

“Why should I have to lie?” Kazrack replied with disdain, a little too loudly.

“You don’t have to lie, just keep your mouth shut,” Ratchis responded with a hiss.

Gunthar walked over.  “So what in the name of Bast’s sandbox are you guys planning?”

“We aren’t planning anything,” Ratchis said.

“We were just discussing that maybe we should not help you because we know of someone else who is after the sword,” Kazrack said.

Ratchis grunted in shock.

“I can’t believe you’d betray me that way!” Schlomo cried out, getting huffy.  “I told you that information in confidence!”

The gnome stormed off, tossing Ratchis a wink.

The half-orc sighed, as Frederick came out to listen as well, carrying Kazrack’s flail to return it.  “It is a man named Tanweil, except he may not be a man.  He has appeared a green winged lizard man.  He is very powerful.”

“You are making this sh*t up,” Gunthar replied. “You are damn bad liars.”

“It is the truth,” Martin said. “He appeared kind of draconic in origin.  There is some connection between him and the dragon.”

Gunthar narrowed his eyes.  “And this guy’s tough?”

“He killed several of our people, that is why we are after him,” Kismet added, lying well.

“Well, don’t your big-bulbous nose,” Gunthar said with a smile. “We’ll take care of him if we come across him.  We’ll see what he makes of Debo.  Right, Debo?”

“Debo kill,” Debo said.

“Or, you can let him get the sword and follow him to the dragon’s lair and let him soften her up before you enact you plan, whatever it might be,” Kazrack suggested.

“Wow, Stumpy.  I didn’t know you could think that way,” Gunthar replied. “I mean, that sounds down right… uh…”

“Duplicitous,” Frederick suggested.

“Yeah! That, but I don’t think that will work with our plan,” Gunthar said.  “Debo gets to use the sword in our plan, not that we are going to tell you what it is.”

“We don’t care what it is, and we don’t want to know,” Ratchis replied.

“Yeah, right…Uh-huh.  Tell me another one,” Gunthar said, and then turned to Kismet who was walking off to ‘comfort’ Schlomo who was still seething.  “Tell yer little friend that if he worried that if we find the sword first that we’ll just take off with it and then he can’t use to draw out this lizard-guy for your little ill-thought-out revenge scheme, then he is exactly right.  No need to make more enemies than ya need, especially not some dragon-man flying thing.”

“Debo kill dragon-thing,” Debo said.  

“You just may have to,” Gunthar replied.

Frederick the Amazing told Kazrack about his flail.  (1)

“You must be very honored to wield such a weapon,” Frederick said.

“I am even more honored now that I know more about it,” Kazrack replied, grinning as he hefted and spun the weapon.  The gold gleamed in the light of Ratchis’ enchanted torch.

It was agreed that one more night would be spent holed away in the secret room before continuing to explore.  Gunthar explained that he and his party had entered through uncovered doors one level below and had not found much down there except more bone shards and powder, and some armories with mostly rusted weapons, and a great curving hall that went deep down into the earth, but looked partially collapsed and entirely flooded.

Martin spent the day studying Anarie’s version of the _water-breathing_ spell and many tedious hours later, people of both groups began dropping off to sleep.  Kazrack took the first watch with Frederick, but as Martin’s ring had kicked in, he stayed up as well, and watched along with Gunthar when he was awakened by Kazrack for second watch.

“Ugh,” Gunthar grimaced when he opened his eyes and saw Kazrack over him. “For a second there I thought I was being woken up by my date, but the funny thing is I’ve been woken up by uglier women.”

The warrior laughed and strapped on his armor.  The watch-mage and foul-mouth fighter had not been watching too long.  In fact, Kazrack’s snore had just begun to lend support to Debo’s, when there was a banging sound above them, even as the secret door began to open of its own accord.

Gunthar stepped over to the space beneath the ladder up to the trapdoor, as the lantern was positioned there and burning low.  There was a violent bang above as he leaned forward to open the light wider, and a figure came plummeting down, slamming into Gunthar who went stumbling into where Anarie sat in reverie.

The secret door opened and Martin the Green could see the slouched form of Aldovar of Asmodeus, his skin was now nacreous, and his eyes a dull red fire.

“I knew we should have dealt with those bodies right away,” Martin cursed under his breath, stepping on Ratchis purposefully to wake him.

“_Lentus!_ Martin chanted and suddenly Aldovar’s undead form swayed more slowly.

“_Sleep!_” Aldovar commanded, and Martin felt a weight upon his eyes, but he shook it off, even as he was forced to leap back to keep from getting the full brunt of the undead priest’s black clawed hands.  Martin felt a rigidity go through his limbs, but again he was able to shake it off.

Ratchis leapt to his feet, not wasting time with questions.  “Wake up! To arms! To arms!” he cried, scooping up his great axe and seeing that Gunthar seemed to have the other figure well in hand, chopped at the ghoulish form of Aldovar, biting deep into bone.

Martin could now see that the short lanky form that snarled as Gunthar bit into it with a long sword, was none other than the Square.  However, his skin was deathly white, and his eyes blank and yellowed.

Ratchis moving into melee gave Martin a chance to withdraw from the fight and cast _mage armor_ on himself, while Anarie got to her feet with a quick leap, not sure of which way to go to join the fight effectively.

Gunthar laughed as he cut the Square into pieces and kicked at the still moving parts.  “Ya should’nt’ve wandered off there Squiddy,” he spat at the pieces.  They stopped moving and the Square was no more.

The temperature in the already cold room dropped suddenly as the ghostly figure of the black robed priest that the Fearless Manticore Killers had faced on the level above came gliding into the room through the wall.

“Debo hate ghost-thing!” Debo cried, swinging his axe with great violence.  The weight of the great blade seemed to drag him forward and swipe through the ghost form just as he became corporeal.  A trail of clotted blood and rotten gore rained from the ghast’s shoulder. (2) 

“You will serve me or will be served to me, choose!” the priest-ghast hissed.  

“Arextes!” Frederick cried up jumping to his feet to keep from getting crushed in the melee.  He recognized the figure from some of the tales of the final battles of this citadel.  “He was a priest of Set, and a commander of some Black Island forces during the Mountain Wars.”

Aldovar and Ratchis traded blows and the half-orc staggered.  Martin crept up behind him and helped with a _mage armor_, as Ratchis had not worn his more mundane version while sleeping.

“_Sagitta Magicus_,” Anarie chanted and sent an arrow of light streaming at Arextes.  They could see him more clearly that ever before now, he had the face of a middle-aged man pock-marked and warted, but now raw and greenish-white, his neck and left ear and part of his face burned off in life. Gunthar spun on him, his swords ringing as they struck each other, going through the partially incorporeal form to no effect.  He swung with such frustration that his long sword went flying from his grip, landing over by Schlomo who had awakened and was making his way to aid against Arextes.

“Natan-Ahb! I beseech you.  I am your willing servant, use me to show these creatures your wrath!” Kazrack intoned.  He stood with great vigor, clutching his bag of runestones about his neck.  Unfortunately, the undead were too powerful to be turned.

“Bing-badda-Bing! Bing! The best thing I can do is sing!” Frederick said, stepping back behind Martin to get cover from both foes, projecting his almost comical tenor.

“_Sagitta Magicus_!”  Anotehr two missiles came flying from the elf’s finger.

“Damn you!” Arextes cursed.  “You shall die and be devoured here.  You will never reach elven lands!” (3)

Gunthar howled as he hurried past to get his sword at the same moment that a horrid stench began to erupt from the black-robed serpent undead priest.  Anarie and Kazrack could feel their bodies weaken, as their stomachs turned.  Gunthar pressed the back of his hand to his mouth and nose, while Schlomo juste ignored it and stepped in, feeling his hammer strike something as it swung through the incorporeal form.  Arextes lurched towards Kazrack as if about to charge and then disappeared with an audible ‘pop’.

Debo shouldered him way beside Ratchis who was desperately trying to finish Aldovar, and brought his axe down cleaving the priest’s torso in two large blood-erupting pieces.

“Debo hate dead Aldovar!” Debo said.  “Aldovar deader!”

“Where did the other one go?” Beorth asked.  He had never had room to get into range and strike a blow, though his sword was ready.

“Are they gone?” Frederick asked, stopping his song. 

“Yes, I think so,” Martin replied.

“What in the Hells was that thing?” Gunthar asked.  “And how do you kill it?”

“That is what we have been trying to figure out.  We faced him twice already.  This was the third time.  He turns our dead against us.”

“Stay dead!” Debo said to the corpse of the foreign priest, chopping it into smaller pieces with his axe to be certain.  “Only Debo can’t die.”

“”Enough!” Beorth commanded, and amazingly the barbarian stopped, but snarled at the paladin, stalking away.

Ratchis stripped the Square’s body, and Gunthar had Debo and Rondar (who had finally woken up) (4) do the same to Aldovar’s.

This time they burned their remains.

Rondar, the Fearless Manticore Killers soon found out was the least likeable of all of Gunthar’s crew.  From the moment he woke up he had mumbled and wheezed a string of complaints and accusations, when he was not too busy laughing at the misfortune of others all he could do was bemoan his own.  Ratchis could smell Debo’s desire to kill the whiny man.


Tholem, the 18th of Sek – 565 H.E.

The next day both groups seemed happy to be moving one, except for Rondar. 

“I think we should just leave this place,” he whined to Gunthar, looking at Ratchis with great fear in his rheumy eyes.  The man seemed unreasonably tall, skinny and angular.  He seemed to do everything awkwardly.

“Rondar is good for nothing ‘cept pissing his pants,” Gunthar said to Kazrack, as the two groups spread out and made their way to the steps down to the next level.

“Then why keep him around?” Kazrack asked.

“Eh… He’s another target.  He’ll be the one that sets off the killer trap since he is supposedly our ‘boxman’.  Heh.  The only box that one ever opened was his momma’s and from the inside.  I hoped that sewed that bitch up so no more of his kind could slip out that crack.”

“Um…”

“Of course, all the pleasure is in sticking something in there, eh?” Gunthar elbowed Kazrack lasciviously in the head.

“I don’t think you should talk to Kazrack about that kind of stuff,” Frederick said, catching up to them.  “I have heard that dwarves are virgins until they marry.  Are you married Kazrack?”

The bard had a mischievous smile.

“No,” the dwarf replied and Gunthar and Frederick burst out laughing.

“Hey, Rondar!” Gunthar called to his companion momentarily forgetting his disgust with him in order to share the joke. “Stumpy here has never planted his hammer against some dwarven anvil.”

Rondar guffawed.

The stairs down were ten feet wide and made of cracked marble supported by stone beams that were carved with the image of scores of dwarves, each on each other’s back working an anvil.  Kazrack was awed by the sight of it, but saddened that dripping water had worn many of the detailed sections away, and he could see large cracks in some that made him worry about the stability of the stairs, but luckily they had already pass over that part by the time he was in a position to see it.

Gunthar explained that they had entered on the level above, and had come down and looked around, but had only found the flooded hall, and some rooms full of rotten corpses and armories.  They had pulled the doors to the stairs at the bottom closed and wedged it in case they had missed anything and decided to come up behind them.

Kazrack, Debo and Ratchis were able to free the doors and push them open.  They were large iron doors, now brittle and corroded at the bottom creating blue-green striations that matched Kismet’s eyes.

The hall beyond went in both directions, but the party could hear and Gunthar explained that the right passage led to the grand room that led to the flooded hall.

“We will search the rest of this level first,” Kazrack said.  “This is a citadel of my people and I must see the extent of the damage and what there is to be found.”

Gunthar rolled his eyes.

To the left the hall ended in a portcullis that was wedged open about three feet from the ground with a battleaxe.

“There are two more gates in here and some rooms we could not reach,” Gunthar explained.  “We figured we’d check upstairs and then come back and smash the me open if we could not find the sword, but this is leading back towards the front of the citadel if you look at the old maps.”

“Where did you get old maps?” Martin asked.

“I have my way of getting things, Doughboy,” Gunthar winked. “Don’t question my methods.”

“Anyway, that’s the front, so it is unlikely the sword is over there,” the Neergaardian continued.  “From what I could find out that rear hall reached to the lower halls, to the _real_ dwarven city.  I bet the sword and whatever you are looking for is down there.”

Anarie crawled under first, followed by Debo and then Ratchis.  By the time the rest of the group came through, the elf had already scouted out the chamber. It was a vaulted accessway with portcullis to drive or avert traffic down one corridor or another.  The gate leading towards what Gunthar said was the front had a long hall behind it filled with a rancid smell of mildew; only rags and muck was left whatever soldiers died in that hall, though the scraps of armor seemed to be of both dwarven and human make.

“The humans had managed to get in,” Frederick the Amazing said, drawing on his bardic lore. “And the high priest called an earthquake from the voiceless god, and the voiceless god spoke but a syllable and the invading army was swallowed by a great rent in the earth, but the citadel fell into it as well.”

“How do you know so much about dwarves?” Martin asked.

“Oh, I don’t know all that much about them, just a snippet of lore here or there, though I did make sure to learn as much as I could about this place before we came here,” Frederick replied.

“Oh, where’d you do that?”

“Oh, you know… here and there,” Frederick winked.

“The wheel for opening the gates is in that room,” Gunthar pointed to the right.  “But Rondar the Dimwit slack-ass couldn’t figure out how to work it.  There is some trick to it.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Kazrack and Anarie said at the same time.  The dwarf moved to the door and opened it, but as he stepped in, a dark figure rushed out at him, punching the dwarf soundly in the face.

“Ugh!” Kazrack stumbled back.

It was a black-garbed monk, tall and wiry, though showing signs of having survived a fight or two, as the right side of his face was purple and swollen.  His bare feet were scraped and bleeding.

“Ha! Son of Jocham!” the figure said.  It was Vander. (5)



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

(1) *Ororon-Thiduil* - This golden light flail is banded with obsidian at the top and bottom of the handle.  The head of the flail, affixed by a chain of black metal is shaped like a dwarf’s head with a beard of black metal and eyes made of two shining rubies.
The name _Ororon-Thiduil_, can be translated to mean “_Dwarves Golden Pride_”, but a more accurate translation would be “_unconquerable will of the dwarven people_”. 

This light flail is enchanted with a +2 enhancement bonus.  In addition, while wielding the flail the wielder benefits from the arrow-cutting feat.  

Arrow-Cutting:  Once per round, when you would normally be hit by a missile weapon, you may make a Reflex Save against DC 20 to knock it out of the way with your weapon, if it drawn. You must be aware of the attack and not flat-footed. If the missile is magical, the magical plus is added to the DC. Arquebus fire cannot be deflected; nor can exceptional missiles, such as boulders thrown by a giant or spells like Melf’s Acid Arrow.​

(2) *DM’s Note:* I made up my own form of ghoul and ghast templates, and decided that any priest with the power to control undead that becomes one of these becomes a kind of “master” ghast with the power to create and control other ghouls.  This is what Arextes, a priest of Set in life, was.

(3) Elves need to be interred in designated elven land or their souls do not find rest in an afterlife.  Instead, they stay and haunt the place where their body was.

(4) Rondar was the member of Gunthar’s crew that was stabilized at negative hit points and was slowly healing without aid of Aldovar’s healing magic.

(5) Vander was the leader of the monks that had captured the golden dire ram back in Session #31.


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## Manzanita

Very interesting.  Always some new suprise...


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## Elder-Basilisk

Hooray! One of the leading story hours is updated. And it's a good update too.


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## el-remmen

The info about Kazrack's flail has been posted in the notes for the last installment.


----------



## Dherys Thal

*Interesting Party Dynamic*

How are all these (presumably N)PCs being played?  It's an interesting situation  and I really enjoy how you've represented the philosophical tension and absence of trust that would be present in such a disparate group.

I have to ask one meta-game question - are you compensating for the PCs taking unexpected turns and being a bit over their heads - or is this convergence of DragonHunters something you conceived of earlier?


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## el-remmen

Dherys Thal said:
			
		

> How are all these (presumably N)PCs being played?  It's an interesting situation  and I really enjoy how you've represented the philosophical tension and absence of trust that would be present in such a disparate group.




Well, typically I choose one NPC of the group (in this case Gunthar) and make him do most of the talking.  I also have a 'voice' for each NPC - I don't mean an accent (though sometimes they have one), but just a way of talking that makes it instantly recognizable who is speaking.  Gunthar is crass.  Debo is brief and blunt.  Frederick is verbose and friendly.  Rondar is whiny, etc. . . I establish the characters and then rely on my ability as an actor and story-terller to give the cues -   But since it doesn't always work 100% I let the players know who the "default" speaker is and tell them to assume that if I don't say that is who is doing the talking.

I also do thing like say "you overhear Fred and Gunthar speaking about X" and then give the info that way with some example lines of dialogue (some of which I write down ahead of time).

It is tough having so many NPCs around (much like when the FMK traveled with the dwarves of Abarrane-Abaruch), but I do my best to thin the herd and get rid of them when I can - but I don't make them leave just b/c I am tired I am a slave to internal consistency. 



			
				Dherys Thal said:
			
		

> I have to ask one meta-game question - are you compensating for the PCs taking unexpected turns and being a bit over their heads - or is this convergence of DragonHunters something you conceived of earlier?




I expected this adventure to be difficult both because and in spite of all the other factions represented here (the gnomes, Gunthar's crew, the gnomes and the monks).  I had no prediction about what would happen and did not expect the alliance of the two parties - that threw me for a loop.  I just figured there would be some misunderstandings, some temporary alliances, some double-crossing, some info-swapping, etc. . . and I left it open ended to let the players decide how it would play out. 

I try to make all my encounters as open-ended as possible.


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## el-remmen

*Ask Me Anything*

[redacted


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## handforged

great update!  sorry I haven't been around recently.  I have been pretty unable to get to a computer.  I really love the new twists and turns.  Thanks for more updates and I encourage all the new posters to keep posting.

~hf


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## Manzanita

I'm thinkin' it's about time for another FMK fix.  How are things going, Nemmerle?


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## Manzanita

Summer vacation time, Nem?  I'm jonesing for my fix!


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## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Summer vacation time, Nem?  I'm jonesing for my fix!




I have been very busy - but I finally started on the next installment the night before last so maybe over the next day or so - and definitely by the end of the weekend.


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## el-remmen

Here is a question no one has ever asked me:



> Nem, how long does it take you to write on of these installments?




Always longer than I think it will. . .


----------



## el-remmen

*part 2 (of 2)*

*Session #60 (part II)*

Kazrack grunted as Vander slammed more kicks and punches into him.  The monk used the force of his last kick to leap back and avoid a counter attack.  For a moment Schlomo and Kazrack struggled to get through the door into the room beyond to go after him.

Ratchis managed to squeeze past them followed closely by a salivating Debo.  Ratchis’ hammer struck Vandor hard in the shoulder, as the monk’s blocks were ineffective against the weighty weapon.  Instead, he brought a kick down on Ratchis’ knee twice that made the half-orc buckle and roar.   But he left himself open to Kazack who, managing to get past Debo, swiped into the monk’s hip with his halberd.  There was an explosion of blood and the monk swayed.

“Stop!” cried Beorth coming into the room behind Schlomo.  

Ratchis dropped his hammer and slammed a hammy fist right into the monk’s face, sending him down definitely.  It was then the ranger noticed that Vander appeared to have already been injured.

Debo raised his sword to finish the monk, but Ratchis raised a hand, “Stay your weapon.  I will heal him.  We need to talk to him.”

“Debo hate monks!”

“Oh, he is one of those boy-stealing monks we ran into before,” Gunthar said, coming into the room.

“You met monks here before?” Beorth was amazed.

“Yeah, right on this level to be exact,” Gunthar said.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ratchis fumed, kneeling by the monk to lay a minor healing spell on him to stabilize him.

“You friggin’ didn’t ask,” Gunthar shot back.  “Anyway, they aren’t after the sword, so we didn’t care and they were going to the flooded level first and I wanted to avoid that if possible.” 

Ratchis growled and walked off to search the small room.  There was the mechanism for opening the gates, consisting of two levers and one wheel.  Beside it, impaled into the wall by a broken spear was the skeletal corpse of a humanoid in chain mail armor.  The head was gone, as were whatever it might have worn on its feet and the feet themselves.  Ratchis assumed it was among the bone dust he left tracks in. He started as he noticed that the figure wore a belt of scored chains about its waist.  He leaned forward and saw what he was looking for, tiny ankhs engraved into some of the links.  His eyes drifted over to something large hanging from the belt, beneath the tattered remains of a stained white tunic.  

It was key. A large metal key about nine inches long with large loop at the turning end that could easily fit a human hand.  The key was a corroded blue-green color, as if it spent a long time beneath the surface of the ocean.    

Ratchis carefully took it from the belt and hefted it.   Speaking a word to his goddess, he examined it for magic and detected three different auras, one faint, but the other two were moderately powerful.  He knew it must be some relic of the friars of Nephthys, and he tied it to his own belt.  He looked around on the floor to see if there was anything else that might have belonged to what was obviously a friar of Nephthys that might have fell, an found a single ankh earring.  He slipped into his ear.

In the meantime, Vander was healed by Beorth and was waking up.  The paladin held the monk’s staff.  It was exceptionally light and hard.  It felt good in his hand, and he spun it once, before pointing on end to the floor to lean on.

“Where is your master?” Beorth asked.

“I will say nothing,” replied Vander.  He was sitting up, his hands tied behind his back.  

“Debo kill monk!”

“Kill me if you will.  I will be rewarded for doing what is right,” Vander said.

“For someone who isn’t going to say anything this creep sure does talk a lot,” Gunthar quipped.

“I too am doing what I think is right,” Beorth said.

“What you think and what we know are two different things,” Vander continued. “Our way is the better way.  Think on that before you defy the will of Master Hamfast and Master Adder.” (1)

“Why is your way better?” Kazrack asked.

“Because we seek to remain to Anubis, even if our own god betrays us,” Vander replied, cryptically.

“You have to understand that Beorth was not always forthcoming about his run-ins and experiences with you and your sect,” Kazrack explained. “And he has since lost his memory.  We are not in a position to fully know what is going on unless you explain it more clearly.”

Beorth nodded.

Vander paused.

“Why are you wasting your time?” Gunthar complained.  “This worm won’t say anything useful.  Monks are suckers that hide their hankering for other hairless men behind two copper words and blank stares.  They never had a woman.  They’re twisted.  The loosest hooer in Neergaard could slide his head in her snatch and he wouldn’t so much as get a stiff one before he suffocated.”

Everyone ignored him, but Rondar who’s hoarse shrill laughter echoed up and down the empty chambers filled with bones.  It seemed to call back from the darkness.

“Master Adder found at the great convocation in the Archduchy of Wallbrook that the Grand Master was going to announce some drastic changes to our order based on a vision he was supposed to have gotten from Anubis,” Vander finally began.  “These changes undermine not only what the order means, but what following Anubis itself means, and we who are faithful will not let that happen.  We seek the power to change this back to how it should be.”

“What exactly will you do with this power?” 

“To put our will against those who would abandon their duty even at the behest of a god,” Vander answered.  “At this will our master succeed our die trying.”

“And where is your master now?  Looking for the way to gain this power, to talk to Anubis?” Beorth asked.

“I will not say.”

“Smack him around a little,” Gunthar suggested.

“I doubt a man so convicted can be convinced to speak through use of pain,” Beorth said.

“Who cares?  Smack the little man-b*tch around.  It’ll be fun,” Gunthar winked at the monk.

“There will be none of that,” Kazrack said.

“What is your name?” Beorth asked the monk.

“I am Vander – Initiate of the Stone.” (2)

“What happened the last time we met, Brother Vander?”

“Last time we met?  You freed the ram-creature, the paragon…”

“The exemplar?”

“Same thing.”

There was a long discussion as to what to do with him, but it was finally agreed to just let him go, as murdering him in cold blood would not be right.

Gunthar snickered and Debo fumed, but the Fearless Manticore Killers insisted despite their better judgment.  However, they took his staff from him, hoping it would cause him to leave the Pit of Bones rather than risk staying there unarmed.

After taking a quick look around the rest of this level, finding naught more than more piles of shattered bones, rusted weapons and shards of armor, and armories filled with other weapons (mostly crossbows and quarrels) in ill repair, Gunthar led the combined groups towards the large chamber that was partially flooded.

It was a tall and wide chamber that narrowed along its curved right wall down into a flooded passageway that seemed to spiral down into the darkness.   The murky water was ankle deep in most of the room, and occasionally lapped against the wall with a gentle slapping sound, though even in the of the _radiant spark_ one could tell that walking into that chamber would have the water over your head in no time.

There was another hallway that led around to where the stairs to the level above was, and a set of double doors that seemed to lead into a chamber nearly the size of this outer room.  These two rooms together made up the vast majority of this section of the citadel.  There were four pillars, four feet in diameter and varying in height with the arced ceiling.

“The jig is up!” Gunthar suddenly announced, spinning around and placing his hands on the hilts of his swords.  He looked at Schlomo. “We know the sword is down there and that you are here to find it, too.  Your friends sold you out.”  Gunthar’s eyes trailed to Kazrack, Martin and Ratchis.

“We’re getting the sword no matter what!” Schlomo announced, angry. His own little hands hefted his war hammer and he grimaced.

“Look, we still are looking for, you know, the other thing,” Ratchis said, stepping between them. “Why don’t you help us, we help you and we decide about the sword thing once we actually have it to worry about?”

“Bah!  Why should I trust you when you are so willing to hold back information from us?” Gunthar harangued.  “How do we know you don’t have some ambush or sneak attack planned for us?”

“We’re worried about _you_ keeping _your_ word!” Kazrack lamented.

“We’ve been nothing but reliable and honest with you losers,” Gunthar replied.  “Bastards!”

“You did not tell us about your meeting the monks,” Beorth said.

“That had nothing to do with the friggin’ sword, and for all we know with what you are looking for so…”

“The monks are looking for the same thing as we are,” Martin said.

“Oh!  Now you tell us!  That is more information you held back, you weasaly little bitches.” 

There a long tense silence.

Ratchis noticed the double doors on the left were suddenly open some.  He could not remember them being that way before the argument started.  He began to creep over there.

“I don’t understand how a brother of mine could hook up with a bunch of self-righteous hypocrites. You all would probably stiff a one-legged hooer knowing she couldn’t chase after you for her fee.” Gunthar swore and snorted back laughter.  “Look,  you have to go down into that damn dark water and so do we, so let’s just do it.  Me and my crew will take the sword and use it to kill the dragn, and if the gnomes still need it then they can have it. Sound fair?”

“It will be useless to us then,” Schlomo said.

“What if you let Gunthar and his crew accompany you to ‘deliver’ it,” Martin the Green suggested.

“Who do you have to deliver it to?” Frederick asked.

Schlomo hesitated.

“Probably another group of dragon-hunters who suckered him into getting it,” Gunthar speculated.  “No one else has nearly a good a chance of actually killing that dragon but us, so if you want for us to come with you to deliver it, we’ll handle convincing whoever it is that we are the best ones to have it.” (3)

“I guess that is a good compromise,” Kismet said.  Schlomo opened his mouth to protest, but the gnome woman elbowed him.

Ratchis was at the door, when Rondar cried out and pointed towards the water.

There seemed to be a tiny wave swelling in the murky water, but instead of breaking against the wall, it seemed to move of its own volition, rearing up to a height of four feet, psuedo-pods seemingly made of living water began to thash about its ‘body’.

“What manner of magic is that?” Ratchis asked, grabbing his axe off his back.

“DEBO HATE MAGIC!”

The stocky barbarian charged at the thing even as Martin noticed the thinnest tendril of water whipping across the surface of the water, like a life line from the thing to the larger body of water.

Debo’s sword cut right through it, but it was unclear if it had any effect on it, for it did no slow down.

“Debo, let it come to us,” Beorth said, too late and drawing his sword, moved cautiously forward to support the barbarian against the strange creature.

Kazrack did not hesitate and came forward smashing at the thing with his new flail. “Martin!  What is this thing?”

“I think it is an elemental beast!  Are your weapons working against it?”

Before the dwarf could answer, Gunthar let out a stream of profanity, while looking up.

Anarie followed his gaze and gasped.  Crawling across the ceiling was some sort of fish-man.  It was covered in mauve scales, with a wide splayed head with large unblinking eyes and webbed hands and feet that ended in sharp scale-like claws.  It wore a webbed belt made of some kind of darker colored fish scales, from which hung some webbed pouches and a wicked barbed and curved knife.  It had some kind of pole arm slipped into a harness on its back.  

The thing’s head turned almost all the way around and it unblinking fishy gaze fell upon Beorth.  With unbelievable speed it flipped off the ceiling and the pole arm was in its hands.  Standing nearly teen feet from the Ghosthunter of Anubis, the snapping metal jaws of the mechanism on the end of the pole pinched Beorth’s neck, holding him nearly helpless.

Rondar and Frederick made themselves scares.  The former sneaking behind a pillar, while Fredericl moved to the right side wall placing his back to it and examining the ceiling nervously.

Anarie heard a splash behind her and spun around, there was another one of fish-men.  She jerked back, but was too late.  The arms of the thing’s man-catcher snapped about her neck, jerking her back and forth easily.  This one had more sickly yellow scales, and a set of frilly scales flapping back and forth atop its unusually tall and narrow head.

Beorth snapped free tearing skin from his neck and shoulders, and Ratchis came charging at the thing, but again with incredible speed, it swung the man-catcher in the half-orc’s direction and caught him with a jerk.  

“Urk!” Ratchis grunted, and then yanked free with a roar.  His charge was broken.

The appearance of the new foes distracted Kazrack and he felt the sharp whip of water across his thighs.  The small elemental had struck him and now his legs stung awfully.

Schlomo came charging in, hammer over his head and beard flapping behind him, to aid Anarie.  However, the second fishman was too quick and jerked the elf around, forcing the gnome to check his blow or risk striking the person he was trying to help.

“_Sagitta Magicus!_” The fish-man could not dodge the arrows of light that blasted from Kismet’s finger.

Beorth crouched and slipped into the first fishman’s guard and brought his sword down on its leg.  The wound gushed a foul-smelling oil that bubbled.  The fishman’s little puckered mouth twitched, but they seemed to make no sound.

Kazrack could see the volume of the water-creature before him lessen and he drove his flail into it, jerking his arm back awkwardly as he pulled it from its watery essence.

“Kismet!  Try Fire!” Martin advised, fear in his voice.  “_Lentus!_”

The fishman jerking Anarie around with the man-catcher suddenly jerked himself, as all his motions slowed way down, almost as if a caricature of itself.  Anarie was able to put her chin beneth the collar and painfully squeeze out of it. (4)

“What’s yer name again?!” Rondar called quizzically towards Martin from behind a pillar. “Mage!  Watch out!  Look up!”

“Huh?” Martin’’s voice became a shriek as he saw a third fish-man on the ceiling.  It reached down at him cutting a deep gash in the mage’s ear with a serrated curved knife.  The thing’s knees and feet never left the ceiling.  This one has deep blue scales running in stripes down the side of its body, and its face was strangely flat; a pouch of loose skin and scales on its neck.

“Oh! Fishy Fishy Squishy Fish!  Get off the ceiling and in my dish!” Frederick began sing in a high-pitched silly voice, but the effect of it seemed to raise the spirits of his companions (including the Fearless Manticore Killers) as they struggled.  “Get on my hook, Pishy-Pish!  A fish is only good in a dish!”

As Ratchis and Beorth struggled with the first fishman and Kazrack, Debo and Gunthar struggled with the elemental, Schlomo croaked as the second fishman grabbed him about the neck and face, crunching his nose.  He pulled free and hurried out of reach, as the fishman stumbled, struck by more of Kismet’s _magic missiles_.

Kazrack felt the whip of the water elementals tendrils again.  Gunthar’s weapons seemed to do nothing no matter how many times they struck the thing.

Beorth smashed at the man-catcher and buried his sword into the first fishman’s shoulder.  There was another explosion of the foul oil and the then the thing collapsed.  Gritting his teeth, Beorth calmly began to walk towards the fish-man still hanging from the ceiling.

Another set of arrows of light struck the second fish-man, this time from Anarie.  She stayed well clear of its man-catcher.

“I guess I should start helping,” Rondar mumbled and began to load his crossbow from the relative safety of being behind the pillar.w

The blue-striped fishman leapt from the ceiling, and spun around as Ratchis charged him.  It made a sucking sound and its exagertated long hands and fingers pointed at the half-orc.  Ratchis could feel the spell come over him, but nothing seemed to happen.  He slammed his war hammer into the side of the thing’s head.  He could feel the soft bones crack and shift beneath the hammer, but it was clear – These things had no real skull to speak of.  

Beorth backed up his companion, and drove the fish-man even further back, flicking scales from its upper arm.

Kazrack could start to feel a great bruise develop across his thigh, where the elemental kept striking him.  He began to try to withdraw to draw the thing into shallower water. 

“Debo, Gunthar, help me get this thing out of the water.”

Gunthar just kept swinging.

Anarie leapt backward, flipping back and tucking into a roll went past the fish-man narrow-headed before her, avoiding the snap of his weapon’s pincers.  However, as she came around to support Martin, she felt the bite of the newest fishman’s knife.

Martin ducked behind a pillar, as he was able to get away because of Anarie’s screening him.

Rondar leapt out from behind his pillar and with a twang, a heavy crossbow bolt slammed into the blue-stripped fish man and it fell over, spurting a trail of black oil behind it.

“Yah-Ha!” Rondar cried with glee, pumping his fist in the air.

Ratchis smashed the thing’s head where it lay in the shallow murky water.  It crunched.  Grunting with satisfaction, he began to make his way towards the remaining fishy-foe, but suddenly stopped, grabbed his stomach and began to belch up a gallon of murky brown water.  He swayed in place.

The water elemental melted away into nothing.

“Where’d it go?” Gunthar asked.

“Pig-f*cker sick!” Debo laughed, as he withdrew from the elemental had been having tired of having no effect on it.

“Can anyone cure poison?” Ratchis croaked between gasps.

The remaining fish-man, despite still being under the effect of Martin’s _slow_ spell, was able to get free of the melee and dive towards the deeper water.

Anarie chased after it, pulling her bow from her back, while Ratchis puked more, but it was too late.  It was gone.

Kazrack stepped over to the first fish-man.  Its suckered little mouth and the gill-slits in it neck rose and fell very shallowly.  Kazrack stabilized it with a minor orison.

“What the hell are you doing, Stumpy?” Gunthar exclaimed coming over.  He buried his long sword in the thing’s head and twisted. The thing’s face exploded in greenish-yellow bubbling oil.  “_That_ is what you do to enemies.”

Kazrack grimaced and pushed at Gunthar forcing the tall man to look down at him.  “Gunthar, if you ever strike down one I choose to spare again, the next person I will have to decide to spare or not shall be you.”

“Don’t threaten me, Stumpy,” Gunthar tapped Kazrack on the back of the head, and the dwarf pushed him away.

“It is a promise, not a threat.”

“You don’t spare enemies, unless maybe they are men…”

“We don’t know what we might be facing down there,” Kazrack replied. “I wanted to question it.”

“It sure didn’t seem to speak Common to me,” Gunthar spat.

“We have blessings that might have allowed us to communicate with it,” Kazrack explained.

“Well, I didn’t know that,” Gunthar said, backing down a bit.  “But still, what were you going to do with it after you questioned it?  Let it go?  Kill it in cold blood after it has outlived its usefulness?  Does that seem right to you?  Friggin’ hypocrites, you guys are.”

“Ooh look!  We hit the jackpot!” Rondar’s voice was heard to say.  As soon as the fight was over and the arguing had started, and everyone else was distracted by the liquefaction of Ratchis’ guts, the lanky man had crept over and pulled a sack from the corpse of the blue-scaled fish-man.  Inside he found a handful of gold and silver obleks, and an impressive gold and silvery gauntlet with a heavy palm that did not seem able to grasp anything. It was encrusted with black and red gems.  It was apparent that it was worth a fortune, but it was also etched with dwarven runes.  

Rondar had the gauntlet one and was waving it around.

“Take that off!” Kazrack order, immediately recognizing it for what it was.  He snatched it from the rogue.

It was called ‘the Hand of Natan-Ahb’ and while not a magical item, the masterful craftsmanship of the gauntlet made of gold and _truesiler_ (5) was undeniable breath-taking.  It was worth more perhaps than the treasuries of all three of the Little Kingdoms put together – but for the same reason would be nearly unsellable.  Crafted long ago, there were but a few left in the world, and were worn by high priests and thegns when presiding over a trial or making pronouncements of law.

“Hey!” Gunthar said, getting back into a mood to argue.  “We split all booty equally!”

“This is a relic of my people.  It is not booty,” Kazrack insisted.

“Fine, you can take it, but we’re keeping the dwarf coins,” Rondar said, putting the bag to his chest.

“Yeah, keep yer damn golden tally-wacker stroker,” Gunthar spat.  “Wouldn’t be able to sell something like that in this piss-poor backwater kingdom anyway.”

Meanwhile, Ratchis was feeling somewhat better and Frederick having noticed the key hanging from the Friar’s belt for the first time recognized it and began to tell him about it.

He was unsure of its powers, but said that it was a relic of  the Third Age (5) and has its origins in Thricia during the time of Agon the God-King.  It was said to have been made from the doors to the palace of the god-king.  It was to be worn openly where all could see it.

“Since it was forged it has passed through many hands,” Frederick added.  “Friars of Nephthys don’t generally live very long, ya know.”

Ratchis nodded.

“I don’t know how Anarie and I are going to get our spellbooks safely to wherever we’re going,” Martin opined, looking at the water.

“Can’t you hide them away somewhere and we’ll come back for them?” Beorth suggested.

“Uh-uh.  No way!  Not after the last time,” Martin’s face pinched up as if he had smelled something bad.  “We may be gone a long time and may not even come back out the same way.  No way!”

But by then they had looked beyond the double doors to what Gunthar described as having been a storage room of some kind.  There were scores of pots.  Most were shattered, or severely cracked and fell apart by the slightest touch.  There was a muck of wet rotted grain, and the stale smell of alcohol.  However, some of the smaller pots were intact and Anarie had the idea of using them to transport the spell books.  While the larger books would not fit through the tops, the pots could be carefully cracked and then fixed with the books inside using a _mending_ spell.  The tops could then be sealed pieces of stone from the broken ones and sealed with wax.

It was decided that someone should scout the flooded passage before everyone went.  Ratchis volunteered, but Gunthar insisted he represent his group and come along as well.  Finally, it was agreed that Beorth would accompany them as he wanted to be the first to deal with the monks if they happen to run into any.

The three warriors removed their armor and Martin the Green cast his spell of _mage armor_ on each of them. (6) They split a potion of water-breathing that Kismet provided them.  It was a sea-green color and had a nauseating slimy texture. (7)

“Be careful of the grapplers!” Kazrack warned as Ratchis, Gunthar and Beorth begant o head into the murky water.  Beorth’s helmet shone with light, and Gunthar had a dagger with the spell upon it too, in easy reach.

The three of them could feel their bodies panic and their minds reel as they first went in below the depth of their heads.  The instinct in each of them was to struggle up and gasp for air, for a second Gunthar looked like he might do just that and Ratchis held a great amount of air in his powerful lungs, but Beorth simply hurried his pace and took a deep breath of water.  He was aware of his fear, but a paladin never gives into it.

They moved along the bottom of the great passageway, half-walking and half-swimming.  The passageway ceiling seemed to fall away above them as the sense of what was up and what was down was something they had to consider as the went further and further down in what seemed a great spiral.

The water was cold, much colder than they had imagined it being.  Ratchis was protected by his boots, but he could see Beorth and Gunthar turning a pale blue. The  half-orc hoped there would not be much longer to go, as they had been traveling for nearly an hour.  Along the way, they saw a lot of piled rocks, and would kick an occasional weapon, or piece of armor.  They even saw a huge cart that must have been pulled by a team of oxen.  Much of it had rotted away, but the main frame of it was made of metal, and it shone a bright-corroded blue in the spell light.

Eventually the passageway opened onto a great chasm.  Pillars seemed to hold up a level above them, and stone steps on the left and right went both up to the level above and down deeper in the murky water.  Before them the chasm seemed like an infinite black void.  Ratchis signaled for them to climb up.

Two levels up they emerged from the water, and could see that they were on one of countless levels of what seemed a great chasm more than a half mile in diameter.  It must have once been the hub for a huge dwarven city, but now there was only the echo of dripping water, and the occasional sparkle of some golden statue across part of the way on the right or left. 

Where they stood was a stone platform, with a ceiling above it held up by four pillars.  Behind the pillars were great stone double doors with a bas-relief of hand with an eye in the palm, flanked by the scene of armored dwarven warriors.

“Me prick’s so shriveled it’s like a pea!” Gunthar grabbed his crotch and hopped up and down trying to warm up, and then let out a great guffaw that echoed across the chasm. “Get it?  Pea!”

*End of Session #60*


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

(1)	Hamfast is the monk Beorth met at the Pit of Bones in the Interlude before Session #2x

(2)	As monks of Anubis rise in the hierarchy of the order they are awarded set titles.  _Intiate of the Stone_ is a fairly low one.

(3)	Of course, the gnomes are supposed to deliver the sword to the dragon herself.

(4)	*DM’s Note:* Anarie made a successful escape artist check.

(5)	According to human measure, this is currently the Fourth Age.  However, elves, dwarves and other long-lived races still consider this the Third Age.  Regardless of how it is measured, the portion of time is also called “The Age of Adventurers” and was when most of the powerful magical items found in Aquerra today were made.

(6)	*DM’s Note:* Wizards may trade out prepared spells by preparing a different spell in the same slot.  Re-preparing in this way takes 15 minutes per spell level per spell.

(7)  *DM’s Note:* The amount drunken determined how long the effect would last.  There was 12 hours of water-breathing in the flask, so each would be protected for four hours.


----------



## el-remmen

Oh, By the way. . .

Feel privledged, today is my birthday and I still updated. . .


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

I've finally had a chance to catch up with this SH again- great updates Nemm- It's good to see how evil characters could be played (beyond "I attack you now- Erk").

And belated happy birthday!


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## Manzanita

OK.  Cool update.  Those were Koa Toas, eh?  There's so many NPCs around, it must have been tough for you Nemmerle to keep track of them all.  It makes for a cool adventure, though.  Thanks for the update.


----------



## Pyske

Happy Birthday, and takes for the update.  Somehow, I feel... privileged.

 . . . . . . . -- Eric

PS -- Ah, Debo.  So close to some of the PCs I have seen.


----------



## handforged

thanks for the update,  I hope you enjoyed your birthday as much as I did.

~hf


----------



## el-remmen

Look_a_Unicorn said:
			
		

> It's good to see how evil characters could be played (beyond "I attack you now- Erk").
> 
> And belated happy birthday!




L_a_U: Who is evil?

And thanks for everyone's birthday wishes!


----------



## Manzanita

I was curious how much game time has passed since you started this game.  (I guess Boerth and Kazrack are the only original characters now.)


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> I was curious how much game time has passed since you started this game.  (I guess Boerth and Kazrack are the only original characters now.)




Well, remember, I am 21 sessions behind the current sessions!

In terms of the story hour it has been only about 8 months.

In the current game we recently reached the one year mark (Kazrack's Birthday, if you remember back then when the campaign/story hour started) - but in real time it has been about 3 1/2 years.


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

nemmerle said:
			
		

> L_a_U: Who is evil?
> 
> And thanks for everyone's birthday wishes!




Well Gunthar, Debo, Rondar & Frederic - (well maybe not Frederick so much)... do seem to have tastes & lusts that aren't normally associated with a healthy, moral conscience.

"thanks for everyone's birthday wishes!"
My pleasure *shrug*
Hope you had a great day!


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## mmu1

Look_a_Unicorn said:
			
		

> Well Gunthar...




Someone else who sees the light! And one of these days, Gunthar's going to get what he deserves.


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## Manzanita

Hey, I'm ready for my fix.  How are things going, Nemmerle?


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## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Hey, I'm ready for my fix.  How are things going, Nemmerle?




I started on the next one, but I been busy with life, music and love. . .  I promise to bang one out as soon as I get a chance. . .


----------



## Scider

*For the love of mercy*

update, an update for the poor and the hungry...

*reinitiating lurk-mode*


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## Zipher

This Lurker needs a FMK hit...    

-Zipher


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## el-remmen

Ok, ok - I'll see if I can do one this Sunday. . . and maybe before and after time spent protesting at the RNC (unless I end up in jail - in that case I'll have lots of time to update in prison )

-- This is not a political post.


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## Graywolf-ELM

Nemmerle, I can agree with how you run your game.  Plenty of room for innovation and mistakes by the players, and flexibility with the results.  The regular return of NPC's point to important tasks that occur throughout the game.  Convergence.  I appreciate and enjoy reading your representation of the game.

GW


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## el-remmen

Graywolf-ELM said:
			
		

> Nemmerle, I can agree with how you run your game.  Plenty of room for innovation and mistakes by the players, and flexibility with the results.  The regular return of NPC's point to important tasks that occur throughout the game.  Convergence.  I appreciate and enjoy reading your representation of the game.
> 
> GW




Thanks for the kind words. . .  So I take it you are all caught up?  Eep!

I had better get to working. .  but I cannot seem to write this most recent entry faster than about three lines a night.  However, I promise you another exciting four-way combat bloodbath!


----------



## Manzanita

OK.  At least you're still around.  I was thinking you'd probably been arrested in NYcity.


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## Manzanita

OK.  We're falling behind the bi-weekly calendar.  How's it going, Nemmerle?  Did you fall in love or something?  Don't leave us hanging!


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## handforged

I WANT MY DRUGS!!!  ahem..  I mean, could I please have another update, Nemm.  I would love you forever for it.

~hf


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## Elrik_DarkFury

I almost read this in 4 days.
And i found it REALLY great   .
And it has already changed the style of game i want to play from now on. 
And thus...plz update as soon as (posible)...
Again, great job!!!

________________
The Wizard


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## el-remmen

manzanita said:
			
		

> OK. We're falling behind the bi-weekly calendar. How's it going, Nemmerle? Did you fall in love or something? Don't leave us hanging!




No, no love.  . . I am just way behind.



			
				hand-forged said:
			
		

> I WANT MY DRUGS!!! ahem.. I mean, could I please have another update, Nemm. I would love you forever for it.




Hmmm, I wonder how much I could get on eBay for your undying love?    



			
				Elrik_DarkFury said:
			
		

> I almost read this in 4 days.
> And i found it REALLY great  .
> And it has already changed the style of game i want to play from now on.
> And thus...plz update as soon as (posible)...
> Again, great job!!!




Welcome aboard!
I'm really you like the tale I have been re-telling here.  How has your style changed?  

I'll try to get the next installment ready soon. ..  (I know I keep saying that). . . 

How about we get some speculation on what will happen next?


----------



## Manzanita

Hmmm... what happened last?  It's been awhile.

I suspect the dragon slaying sword will be found and a pitched battle will ensue, with the group of jerks fleeing to reappear when least expected....


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## Scider

The two gnomes end up doublecrossing everybody else...now THAT would do it for me   

Can't wait to find out, Nemmerle


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## el-remmen

Just to let you guys know the update I am working on has reached page 13!  

Just no spot seemed a good enough one to stop at as 3/4s of that is a chaotic combat of typical Aquerran scope.

I hope to be done with it tonight or the next day. . .


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #61*

When Ratchis, Beorth and Gunthar returned, they found Kazrack to be a good deal more pale and wounded than they left him.

“What happened?” Beorth asked.

“Kazrack and Anarie went to retrieve a breast plate from one of the dwarven dead in one of the front chambers and were attacked by that strange priestly ghast who could call upon an unnatural darkness and seems to go incorporeal at will,” Martin explained.

“Until a moment ago I was paralyzed,” Kazrack said weakly. “And I am still not feeling very goo…”

The dwarf fell forward and heaved.  His wounds began to bleed afresh.  His spell of _Endurance_ had worn off and his body could no longer deal with the damage it had sustained.

With a word to his goddess, Ratchis was stabilized his stocky friend.

“Uh-huh. Uh-Huh,” Rondar’s voice ranged from a gargle to a shrill clucking.  “I told ‘em not to go.”

Ratchis snarled at the lanky man.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to drag the dwarf behind us underwater,” Gunthar said. “You drag him, pig-f*cker.  I don’t want to be saddled with stumpy little grunt like some kind of bloody poofter.”

“We aren’t going anywhere,” Ratchis replied.  “We’ll rest again, in the storeroom and go when we have retrieved our spells and miracles and when Kazrack can move under his own volition.”

Gunthar rolled his eyes.

“Maybe we can just wait for the monks to get everything and ambush them on the way back and take it from them,” Martin suggested.

“Hey! That’s not a bad idea!” Rondar’s Osiris-apple bounced up and down excitedly.  “I, uh… don’t really want to go down into the water.”

“That kind of cowardly maneuver is worthy of a better man than the likes of you, dough-boy,” Gunthar said.  “But the problem is…”

“There may be another way out we don’t know of and then we’ll be waiting here for nothing,” Ratchis said.

“Not to mention that how would be get the information we need from the monks about where the Maze is?” Beorth reasoned.

“Okay, okay… It was just an idea, and admittedly a bad one,” Martin acquiesced.

The two allied parties sealed themselves into the storage room and spent the night taking turns watching, though most of the watching fell to the Fearless Manticore Killers.


Balem, 19th of Sek – 565 H.E. 

In the morning, or the closest approximation to morning that could be made as none of them had seen the sun in days, Ratchis used his spell of _Lesser Restoration_ on Kazrack, and in addition a good amount of healing was passed around to strengthen everyone for the challenges to come.

Anarie used _alter self_ to give herself gills and a protective layer of blubber, which made Kazrack balk, his natural distrust of arcane magic coming to the surface.

“I’ve stuffed fatter girls than that,” Gunthar commented, and the elf maid sneered.

Martin cast _water breathing_ three times and soon everyone was making their way through the frigid murky water, following the trail that Beorth, Gunthar and Ratchis had taken the day before.

It took them slightly longer than before, as Martin and Anarie kept bobbing away from the others, clutching their air-filled sealed clay plots holding the precious spellbooks, but eventually, they emerged from the water in the great chasm, coming up the stairs to the huge stone double doors.

“What does it say?” Martin asked, seeing that the doors were etched with dwarven runes.

“_Chamber of the Guard Lore_,” Kazrack replied. “It is the common way to refer to a temple dedicated to our deity that taught us of mining and the secrets of the earth.  He is also guardian of runes.” (1)

“All those runes say just that?” Martin asked with incredulity.

“No, there are also runes of protection, and if they are magical they may protect the temple against being entered,” Kazrack explained.  “Does anyone mind if I go first?”

“I insist!” Gunthar said with a smirk.

Rondar’s laugh echoed out across the dark water behind and below them.

“Wait, I’m not sure if that is such a good idea,” Ratchis said to his dwarven companion.

“Doesn’t it make most sense that a dwarven priest would not set off any glyphs or whatever in a place like this,” Schlolmo suggested, he was wringing water from his mustache.

Ratchis grunted, but then cast _detect magic_ to check the doors and the surrounding area.  “Go ahead,” he finally said. “I don’t see anything.”

As Kazrack pushed on one of the great stone doors, the half-orc Friar of Nephthys cast a blessing on a handful of pebbles he had collected. (2)

The great door creaked open on its rusted hinges, as weighted chains could be heard within the walls to rattle and then settle, easing the great weight of the door.  A dim low-burning light escaped from the chamber beyond, and Kazrack entered first, having only opened the door a few feet.  The others followed.

The chamber was enormous; Greater in size than any save the lowest level of the Necropolis of Doom.  It was nearly 100 feet to the huge raised altar section at the far end that seemed like was at least 50 feet deep itself.  The chamber was sixty feet wide and six columns that were ten feet in diameter created a corridor up the chamber leading to the altar, while there were two raised alcoves reached by narrow stone steps on each side on the walls.  Narrower columns that held the bas-relief forms of armored dwarven guardians flanked the entrances to these adjacent rooms.  Similar statues stood on semi-circle pedestals on their side of the huge stone double doors the party entered through.  The ceiling appeared to be nearly forty feet high at its tallest point. The marble floor, while covered in dust now, appeared to have once been highly polished and slick.

Braziers that burned brightly by each of the columns, up in the small balconies that framed the shadowy raised alcoves and upon the altar illuminated the great chamber.  Kazrack continued to move forward, confident that no harm could come to him in this place protected by his gods, but in a moment he stopped in his tracks.  He could now see that upon a stone ramp that led up to the altar was the huge statue of a mastiff.  Broad-shouldered with a big blunt head, the rear portion of it seemed stubbier, like hounds that bred for attacking.  He could recognize it as Aitan-Abel, the hound of Lehrothronar.  The dog statue stood six feet at the shoulder; The top of its head nearly nine feet off the ground.  

And if the mastiff were not already familiar to him from the religio-historical tales often told to him by his father in his youth, the great statue, over twenty-five feet high of the great dwarven god of mysteries.  It was carved to display his long priest robes, his beard braided intricately, his eyes shone like silver-fire in the brazier light, an arm outstretched before him at a slightly downward angle, palm out as if in warning, or a gesture that said, “wait”.  Upon the palm was carved an eye. 

Kazrack was puzzled by the statue because he could see other parts of it that seemed to stick out from the left and right, as if it had multiple facets, and it seemed that the feet of the statue did not touch the altar, but instead hovered on a dark shadow.

As he began to move forward again, the rest of the Fearless Manticore Killers carefully coming in behind him at a distance, their allies even more cautious a voice called out from the inner alcove on the left.  “Stop!  Go no further!” 

“Who is in the holy place of my people?!” Kazrack called up, as three figures appeared at the balcony before the alcove.  It was clear they were monks, dressed in simple robes of black and in brown leather sandals.  

A short stocky monk stepped forward, letting his cloak fall away.  He was olive-skinned and clean-shaven, and his muscles were defined as if he were the perfect example of the peak of human physical condition.  Even at this distance, Kazrack could see the detailed tattoos on the man’s shoulder’s and arms, but he could not make out what they were.

“I am called Hamfast, and I am a master of my order. We have been waiting for you, son of Rak-Kazum,” the monk replied. “I am known to one of your number, Beorth, Ghost-hunter of Anubis, though in this light I cannot tell if he is with you now.”

“I am here,” Beorth said, stepping forward, craning his neck to get as good a view as he could.  He could not remember meeting this man, but he knew he had from his own painstakingly re-created notes. (3)

“I feel honored that you would be waiting for me,” Kazrack said.  “Though I am uneasy that you would violate this sacred place. What are you waiting for?”

“First, let me warn you not to step any further forward than you already have,” Master Hamfast said.  His voice was a tight as a fist. “The guardian of this holy chamber may not recognize you as one of its own and will certainly not recognize your companions.  Secondly, let me put your fears to rest about our defiling this holy place of your kin.  As Beorth knows we would not disturb the resting place of the dead, or any holy places, and have even toiled against those that would come here to plunder.”

“What’s wrong with plundering?” Rondar said, a little too loud.  Gunthar shoved an elbow in the lanky man’s gut, while both Ratchis and Martin the Green threw angry looks at him.

“And as to what we are waiting for,” the monk continued.  “We need you to enter the place we have been seeking so that we might gain its lore.”

“Well,” Kazrack cleared his throat.  “Why would I help you?”

“Because even if you got in you would not be able to gain what you have come here to learn,” the monk paused.  “And this we have…”

“And that is?”

“The dwarven name of Hurgun’s Maze.”

Kazrack was silent for a moment, and then he replied with a question.  “What makes you think we do not already know this?”

“You would not bother asking that question if you knew,” Hamfast replied.

“And you seek Hurgun’s Maze to use it to try to communicate with Anubis?” Ratchis asked.  The half-orc stepped forward, stepping just past Kazrack.

“Approach the altar no further!” Master Hamfast said, his voice firm and steady.  “If you trust me in nothing else, trust me in that.”

Ratchis looked from the monk over to the shadowed altar.

“And yes, of course.  That is why we seek this place.  We told this to Beorth months ago,” Hamfast continued.

Kazrack and Ratchis looked to Beorth, and the three of them walked away to join Martin and speak where the monks could not hear them.  Anarie hung back with Kismet to keep an eye on the others and on the other raised alcoves, while Scholmo moved a bit more forward to listen to the warriors and watch-mage speak.

“If you know the name in dwarvish, we should drive the monks away,” Ratchis hissed his suggestion.

Kazrack nodded, but mouth a “no”.

The Fearless Manticore Killers were silent for a long moment, each considering the situation on his own.

“I think these monks are telling the truth, but they are not telling the _whole_ truth,” Kazrack said.

Beorth and Martin nodded.

“In fact, I think they need to be led by a dwarf to achieve their aim, and thus want me.”

“Is it just you they need or any dwarf?” Beorth asked.

“Just a dwarf, I suspect,” Kazrack speculated.  “I am not very special as dwarves go.”

At that moment Gunthar stepped forward and shoved his way through the gathered adventurers to address the monks.

“I’m tired of all this cow filth,” he said, and looked up to Master Hamfast.  “Have you seen a sword?”

The monk’s eyes widened, as Gunthar cried out.  He leapt back, barely avoiding being skewered by a long arrow.  Instead, the shaft sliced through his shoulder, sending a rain of blood across the floor.

Everyone turned to see where the arrow came from.

“Ah, yes…” Hamfast said.  “We did not get to mention that there is someone else we have come in conflict with.”

At the balcony at the front of the first alcove on the left stood a tall lanky figure with long white hair, dressed in rustic brown and green and holding a long bow.

“Tanweil!” Martin the Green cried out.

Debo immediately roared, pulling his great sword from the from sheath on his back, rushing towards the stairs to the new foe; an anxious smile growing on his twisted face.

“Wait!  We should discuss things first!” Kazrack called out to the mysterious warrior.  “We may not have a reason to fight.”

Ratchis hurried to intercept the barbarian, hoping to cease hostilities.  Gunthar followed, his own intentions unclear.

Anarie quickly ducked behind one of the huge pillars to cast defensive spells on herself, and did not see the squat barbarian reach the Tanweil.

There was a flurry of movement from the lanky warrior.  He dropped his bow and seemed to claw at Debo with both hands and then lean forward, perhaps head-butting him (?) and then spun around quickly.  Debo’s body jerked as if he were struck several times, and then he was tripped by something falling backwards onto the stairs, stunned.

“What the hell did he do to you, Debo?” Gunthar called out, as Tanweil, a blur of movement managed draw his bastard sword to block the blow of Ratchis’ great axe; the half-orc realizing that diplomacy would not be an option now.

Beorth made his way around the opposite stairway and up towards Tanweil.  “Kazrack is right!  We must talk!  Tanweil, stop!”

Frederick not sure what else to do, raised his voice in a rousing drinking song regarding victory over one’s foes.

Kismet and Schlomo hid behind one of the statues near the door, while Martin joined Anarie.

Ratchis leapt back, ready to charge to the mysterious attacker, but Gunthar did not hesistate.  He swung his long sword, but Tanweil ducked right into the follow-up blow from the short sword, but the foul-mouth warrior grunted as he felt a numbing pain up his arm, as if the blade had struck something much harder than armor or human skin.

“What tha…?”

Anarie swung out from behind the colum hissing her arcane incantations, “_sagitta magicus_,” and two arrows of light went flying from her fingers, but Tanweil still moving with incredible speed seemed to not pay them heed.  The arrows dissipated against his chest with no apparent effect.  He leapt up off the balcony seeming to glide down toward the elfin maid, landing deftly to continue his charge at her.

But suddenly with a burst of speed of his own, Beorth was there to block his path, calling to his god he drove his sword down onto the warrior, feeling something like thick hide give way beneath the blade. (4)  The paladin looked at the ground and was shocked to see green-hued blood dripping from the mysterious warrior.

“_Spherus Igneus_,” Kismet chanted and sent a sphere of flame at Tanweil, but with seeming weightlessness he leapt as it passed beneath him.

“Foul servants of the dragon,” Tanweil hissed.

Debo groaned and shook his head and leapt to his feet, grabbing his sword on the way.

“Get ‘im, Debo!” Rhondar cheered from the safety of the doorway, where he had crept to during the chaos of the battle.

“Gunthar!  Call Debo off!” Kazrack called out, even as he moved forward to join Beorth, and Ratchis charged at Tanweil ignoring the his dwarven companion’s tactical suggestion, but Tanweil spun around, easily parrying the blow, but this allowed Anarie to cast _expeditious retreat_ and hurry past back towards Debo and away from the fight.

Tanweil spun around on one foot, and then brought his weight down on the other leaning forward as he let out a huge breath.  A green noxious clinging gas roiled from his lips, surrounding Beorth, Ratchis and Debo.  Ratchis clutched at his own mouth trying to cover it, but he could feel the stuff burn as it permeated his pores.  Debo took a step forward and dropped, unconscious.  Beorth coughed blood and swayed, but kept his feet.

 Before anyone could react, Tanweil leapt again, seeming to fly up to the opposite alcove from which he had emerged.

“If we are not even going to try diplomacy, we should at least not chase a flying opponent!” Kazrack continued shouting his tactical suggestions.  “Fall back to one of the alcoves and let him come to us.”

“That’s a good idea!” Rhondar agreed nodding vigorously, walking cautiously over to the opposite alcove from where the action was taking place; the one Tanweil had first emerged from.  The lanky coward put away his sword and drew his crossbow.

“Bah!  He can’t get us all!” Gunthar spat, moving towards the steps.

Kismet made her ball of flame chase Tanweil up the steps, and Beorth followed it, still coughing.

Schlomo took a shot with his crossbow, but it hit too low and struck the balcony wall.

“Beorth! Fall back!’ Ratchis echoed Kazrack for the first time, as the dwarf hurried over to the alcove Rhondar was making for.  Anarie went over there as well.

But it was too late, Beorth had barely made it up the left-side stairway when Tanweil leapt down on him.  The man’s bastard sword slammed into the paladin’s neck, only Beorth’s helmet kept him from having his head forcibly removed from his shoulders. (4)  There was an unpleasant sound of metal crunching beneath the blow and as Beorth began to fall backward, and upper-cutting blow from the blade hurried him along his way, blood blossoming explosively from his wounds.  He lay at the bottom of the steps unmoving.

Frederick stopped singing. “The monks are on the move!” he warned everyone, as he made his way to the great doors which were still slightly ajar.

Unsure what else to do, Martin the Green decided Kazrack’s plan was best and hurried over to the alcove, but from the corner of his eye he saw one of the monks heading over to the altar they had warned against.  And then he saw movement that made his head turn to make sure he was not hallucinating.  The great statue of a dog that stood at the front of the altar moved with a great grating sound like stone against stone, even though the movements of the thing were fluid like living flesh of stone.  It leapt to one side to give chase to the monk, and looking back to make sure the dog was on his tail, the monk turned towards the general melee and poured on the speed.

“Oh sh*t,” Gunthar muttered.  Schlomo hurried over to defend Beorth, but Tanweil did not leap down to finish the paladin, rather he jumped back down off the side of the steps onto the main level, taking stock of his opponents.   Kazrack hurried back down the steps, having seen what happened to Beorth.

Ratchis kept the strange white-haired young man in his right eye as he hurried over apply a minor orison on Beorth to him from bleeding to death.  

The monk came whizzing past between Gunthar and Kazrack, and the foul-mouth Neergaardian managed a shallow cut against the one called Maynard, who Beorth might have recognized as one of the two that came for him months before, if he could remember anything at all.

 Kazrack, however, was too busy putting his weapon down and walking towards Tanweil with arms open.  “I will be your hostage,” he said to the incredible warrior.  “Our goals need not be in conflict.  Put down you weapon as I have done mine, or even put it to my neck, but let us talk.”

“Wow, that dwarf is crazy,’ Rhondar’s gurgled, drooling in amazment.

“Help me find the sword,” Tanweil said, his voice was gurgling hiss that did not seem to sync up with the way his lips moved.   “It is all I want.”

The crackle of Kismet’s sphere of flame could be heard as she rolled it towards Tanweil despite the moment of exchanged words.  There was near silence for a half-second, but it was shattered by Gunthar’s below.  The great dog statue that had been chasing the monk reached him grabbing the Neergaardian in its stony teeth and shaking him as easily as a normal dog would to a tawny rabbit.  It dropped him, and Gunthar did not move again. The thing turned its blind eyes towards Kazrack and Tanweil. 

“The other two monks are making a break for it,” Frederick pointed to where Hamfast and his other underling were leaping up on to the great altar area.  The bard hurried over to where Beorth lay, but keeping an eye on the dog.

Tanweil leapt again floating down towards the altar.  Kismet’s ball of flame bounced after him, as Ratchis sprinted towards the altar to catch up to the monks Frederick had pointed out.  Leaving the bard and Schlomo to watch Beorth, and at the same moment, the monk that had led the dog to this area stopped beside them, crouching into a fighting stance.

“Somebody come help me protect the paladin,” Frederick cried, holding his rapier out feebly.  “I am no good at this stuff.”

As if in answer, the stone dog barked, or at least everyone assumed it did, for the bark was so loud that all other sound seemed to cease to exist compared to it.  Anarie stumbled backward dropping her bow, and clutching her ringing head.  The reverberation knocked, Kazrack, Rhondar and the monk before Frederick to their rear ends.  Hamfast’s companion up in the altar area fell as well.

Kazrack scrambled to his feet and ducked behind one of the columns.

“If your heart is pure you need not fear the dog,” he called out to his companions.  “The monks are our real concern.  Tanweil did not strike me down when he had the chance; leave him be.”

“Crazy,” Rhondar muttered of the dwarf as he climbed to his feet as well.  The golem of Aitan-Abel turned and noticed the activity upon the altar, as Tanweil leapt on the ramp the dog had once occupied, as Ratchis paralleled up a shallow set of step to this raised area on the right.

“Master!  It is returning to the altar,” Maynard cried out to Hamfast as he leapt to his feet, and then called to the stone beast, moving before it.  “Over here! Over here!”  He then had to immediately leap, as Kismet turned her ball of flame to roll through his position. 

Now that the dog was menacing the people on the altar, Martin risked scrambling from the relative safety of the raised alcove and made his way to the dying Gunthar.  He began to bind the man’s wounds. 

Kazrack made his way towards the monk near Frederick and Beorth, but the monk took off for the altar, coming dangerously close to the dog.

Ratchis could now see that Hamfast had made it to a door tucked in the rear left side of the raised altar area.  He seemed to be examining it carefully.  He could also see now that the great statue of Lehroronar was raised nearly three feet off the altar and was set on smaller jagged metal wheel with another smaller one protruding from the altar at a ninety-degree angle.  There was obviously some machinery to the thing, and he could see that here on the right side the statue had a different face, and had an extra set of arms in a different position.  The angle of the great statue directly above him made it difficult for him to determine specifics.

Tanweil hurried past the monk that was holding his ground between Hamfast and the approaching dog.  The monk stepped to one side and laid a high kick right in Tanweil’s face, but Tanweil did not slow.  He poured on the speed, and Hamfast turned too slow to block the deathly blow to his gut.  The monk stumbled back against the door clutching at his own entrails as they bulged out.  There was a blast of electricity as the monk’s shoulder hit the warded door, and his body jerked several times before sliding down to not move anymore.

The dog ran up the ramp onto the raised area and snagged Maynard jerking him back and forth and tossing the crumpled corpse off the altar.

Beorth’s eyes fluttered, and he could hear Frederick’s soft singing, and the bard’s calloused hands on his neck and side.

“What is happening?” the paladin asked.

“I dunno. They’re all up there fighting, except Kazrack, and Gunthar’s dying and… and…and…”

Suddenly Tanweil’s head jerked to the left and he stared at a stained pewter holy fount mounted on the wall there on the left side of the raised altar area.

“I found it!” He hissed and leapt into the fount, reaching down to draw a great gleaming bastard sword.  “I found it!"

The dog slammed the flat top of it head into the guarding monk, and the stumbled backward and retreated some, endeavoring to keep a defensive posture up.

“Master, it is as it was before.  Nothing can stop it,” he called to Hamfast, who miraculously was dragging himself across the altar floor to other side of the room to get away from both Tanweil and the dog.

“Surrender and I will heal you,” Kazrack said, cutting off Hamfat’s retreat.  He held his flail above his head.  Ratchis had his bow out and hurried over. 

“Do you know the name of the Maze?” he asked the dying monk.  His only reply was to choke out a bubble of blood.

Tanweil leapt off the holy water font and glided down off the altar to the main level.

“He’s got the sword!” Schlomo cried out.

“Come help me guard the door,” Beorth said, limping off towards the great doors to the chamber.  He winced in pain with each step.  “He has the sword.  We can’t let him out.” 

“Oh, no…” Frederick hesitated, and then followed. “I guess we need the sword for the plan.”

Ratchis looked up as the shadow of the great dog came over him.  He leapt to one side, but still felt most of the brunt of the thing’s headbutt.  The half-orc ran away from it hoping to lead it away from Kazrack.  He could see the other monk, withdrawing from the altar to get away from the dog.

Suddenly Kazrack noticed that Hamfast had tried to take the moment of danger as a chance to begin to heal himself.  The monk seemed to be in a deep meditation, and had his hands to his open gut.  Kazrack started as he saw innards and sinew suck back into the wound.   He brought down his flail, and the monk turned, absorbing most of the blow on his muscular shoulders.  The monk’s robe tore revealing his many goat and goat-head tattoos on his olive flesh.

“I said, surrender and I will cure you,” Kazrack repeated with a grunt.

Frederick hurried through the door and began to try to close it from the outside, while Schlomo pushed from the outside.  Beorth stood right before the crack of the door, blocking it.  He could see Tanweil’s long-legs pulling him closer and closer across the great marble floor stained in fresh blood.  He could see Anarie and Martin struggling to save Gunthar’s life, while Debo lay apparently lifeless in the center of the floor.  Closer to the altar was the shadowy outline of the broken body of Maynard.

The great stone dog continued to chase Ratchis, and barked again, and again Anarie’s sensitive elven ears seemed more affected than anyone else, holding her head and swaying.  Martin’s cry in astonishment was drowned out, as her hands left Gunthar’s body just as they were tying off a critical wound.

“Only you can calm it,” Hamfast croaked to Kazrack, dragging himself further away from the dwarf.  “Only you can keep it at bay.”

The words seems to echo in the dwarf’s head for a moment and he was certain they were true, but then he thought perhaps _too_ certain, and he shook his head to clear it. (5) 

He slammed his flail into Hamfast again, and again the monk dropped and stopped moving, blood oozing out from under him.

“Over here, dog!” the other monk cried, kicking over one of the braziers near the edge of the altar.  “Over here!”

Ratchis took advantage of the distraction and ran off the altar in direction of the door.

  “We don’t work for the dragon,” Beorth said, calmly to Tanweil as the man approached, slowing to a determined march. The paladin held his sword up.  “We want to slay it.”

The door behind Beorth closed with an echoing thump.

“Beorth! Let the sword go!” Ratchis cried to his companion, hurrying to get there.

The remaining monk turned towards Kazrack and speaking an arcane word he pointed a finger at the dwarf, shooting a sickly green ray at him.  Fortunately, it fell short.  The monk made a quick turn and the dog came into view from behind him and bit deep in the dwarf, but not worrying him as much as he had the other.

Kazrack pulled free and fell down.

“Loyal servant of Lehrothronar,” he pleaded in dwarven.  “The monks are the enemies of your master.  The monk that attacks me is the true enemy!  Save your wrath for him!”

The dog as if obeying leapt over and slammed him again.  The monk attempted to tumble away, but the dog snapped its powerful jaws on him and forced him to his knees.  The dog worried the monk for a second and them him drop motionless.

Rhondar fired his crossbow at Tanweil from the safety of the alcove he had not left, since arriving at.  The bolt skidded across the floor, coming short.

“_Sagitta Magicus_,” Kismet chanted from behind the nearby flanking statue.  The bolts of light fizzled as they struck Tanweil.

“Nothing will stop me from slaying her,” Tanweil whispered, and he deftly leapt over Beorth’s attempt to trip him, coming down sword first.  There was a burst of blood, and Beorth crumpled.

Schlomo turned from where he had pushed the door, and slammed his warhammer into Tanweil’s knee.

“If you’re going to get out of that door with that sword you are going to have to kill me,” Schlomo said.

“Oh! Schlomo, no!” Kismet cried out.  She chanted her magic words again, and again she struck him with her _magic missiles_.  Schlomo saw a brooch about Tanweil appear and crumbled to the floor.

Ratchis charged at Tawneil, but the tall man leapt aside and turned, putting the hand-and-a-half sword between them.  Beorth began to crawl away, whispering a prayer, as Schlomo moved to cover him.  

The half-orc moved to parry Tanweil’s blows with his hammer, but it was no use.  The sword flashed twice, and in a moment he was unconscious and bleeding out as well.

“You would think that a half-breed like you would under the need to destroy all traces of your hated origin,” Tanweil hissed, and stepped over him to engage Schlomo who still blocked the door.

“I’ll say it again,” Schlomo gritted his teeth.  Kismet leapt out from behind the statue, casting a spray of color at Tanweil.  The warrior was momentarily stunned.  “You have to come through me to get to the door.”

Beorth dragged himself to his feet again, and sloppily swung at Tanweil, who moved aside.  The poor paladin, twisted his leg as he tried to land the blow and cried out.  It convulsed in pain with every step he took. (6)

Tanweil grunted as a crossbow struck his rear left shoulder.  Rhondar had come off the steps and flanked.

Throwing his sword around him woozily Tanweil tried to keep his enemies at bay, but Schlomo stepped in and brought his hammer down right on Tanweil’s crotch.  The tall warrior roared an inhuman roar. (7)

“Martin, get one of those animals out of your bag!” Kismet called out, as she drew her bow and brought an arrow to it.

“Lehrothronar, please aid me if I am a worthy servant and my fellow servant off of me,” Kazrack beseeched his god, as he focused his pure divine into the stone dog. (8) 

The dog bit him again, and he barely was able to jerk out of its jaws.


Beorth swung his sword and Tanweil easily avoided the blow.  He spun suddenly dropping the pommel of his sword on the top of the gnome’s head, dropping him to his bottom.  He swung the sword down and then back up with a quick whip of his wrists, flicking Beorth’s chin painfully.  The paladin fell backward in a burst of blood. 

Schlomo was back on his feet almost immediately and swung his hammer.  Tanweil leapt over the blow, and then growled angrily, as two _magic missiles_ struck him from Anarie behind him. 

Kazrack had scrambled over to the far right side of the raised altar area where a low burning hearth, an anvil and set of tools.  He squeezed behind the tool rack, and the dock knocked them away with a sway of his great head.

Rhondar fired another bolt from his heavy crossbow, but it went wide.  Schlomo raised his hammer to block Tanweil’s sword blow, but one blow cut deep into his arm, causing his guard to drop, and the follow up blow skewered him through the side.  The tall warrior kind of flicked his sword to pull it free of the gnome.

“Schlomo!” Kismet screamed and let an arrow loose, but it bounced off the warrior with no visible effect.

“Have you no compassion at all?!?” Martin screamed after Tanweil, firing his crossbow and missing.  “Or are you no better a creature than the dragon that made you?”

 Anarie pulled her bow and fired an arrow at Tanweil as he pulled at the great door.  The arrow bit into his back, and there was a spurt of green blood, but he did not let it slow him.

Kismet, Anarie, Rhondar and Martin began to bombard Tanweil with a barrage of bolts and arrows as the dragon-blooded warrior pulled at the door, but as if by some miracle of Bes, Frederick held it closed against that mighty will.

“You’re a selfish little worm, Tanweil!” Martin taunted.  “What are you going to do once you’ve killed her?  What then?”

The bolts and arrows continued to fall short or bury themselves into the door.  The few that struck the man seemed to bounce off of him with no apparent effect.

Meanwhile, across the great chamber, Kazrack was making a break for it from where he had been penned in by the dog, but the animated recreation of Aitan-Abel was not having any of it.  He pounced to one side as if he was just a dog of great size, but the resulting thud of his real weight reverberated throughout the room.  Kazrack looked up just as the dog came down and swung his large head.  

There was a sickening crunch and Kazrack saw a burst of his own blood entwined with twinkling stars and the most terrible pain he had ever suffered.  He fell backward clutching at his beard.

Tanweil paused in his pulling, oblivious to the arrows falling around him and seemed to laugh at himself.  He then stepped over three feet to the right and pulled on the other great door with one hand and it opened several feet.  (9)

He chopped down through the opening and the others heard a horrific scream from Frederic.

”My arm!  My arm!” the bard cried out.

Tanweil stepped through the door, and in a rare display of courage, Rhondar followed and fired a last bolt from his heavy crossbow.

Anarie slipped past the lanky rogue firing at her last view of Tanweil as he dove into the cold murky water.

She let out a sigh and looked down.  There lay Frederick, the dying murmur of a song his bloody lips, his right arm removed at the elbow; blood blossomed around him as his eyes rolled back into his head.

*End of Session #61*

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

(1) Kazrack is referring to Lehrothronar.

 (2) _Magical Stone_

(3) Beorth met Master Hamfast near the Pit of Bones back in the Interlude between Sessions #24 and #25.

(4) Tanweil scored a “Decapitation” critical effect, but the Beorth’s helmet lowered the effect to merely double damage.

(5) Monks of Rahkefet gain the ability to give _suggestions_ as they rise in level.

(6) *DM’s Note:* Beorth suffered fumble effect that halved his speed.

(7) *DM’s Note:* Schlomo was able to take advantage of Beorth flanking Tanweil to make a sneak attack.

(8) *DM’s Note:* A turning attempt can be used for various devotions by means of needing to accomplish something based on faith.  For example, a door may be warded to wait until someone uses such devotion power on the door as a sign of faith to the god in question, or good in general. 

(9) *DM’s Note:* For several rounds, Frederick was able to continue to win the strength contest between him and Tanweil despite the latter’s great advantage in strength score.  The players took turns rolling for Frederick.


----------



## el-remmen

Well, I hope it was worth the wait.

This was a long one and ended up being an entire session.

Just for those who are curious, according to the properties of the word file I wrote this in, I began the file on August 7th!

Though there was about two weeks in there that I didn't touch it, and then the dreaded one line a night phase. . .   

I will try to start on the next one soon. . . 

Sorry about the length (13 pages in word).


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

No apologies necessary.  I find myself wondering who is on what side.

GW


----------



## Pyske

Second attempt:  

Interesting post as always, nem.  Looks like the FMK are teetering on the edge of defeat again.

Did we lose a footnote in there somewhere?  I think there were two places marked as (4).


----------



## handforged

That was great Nemm.  I love the complex room and the added neutral combatant of the dog, which had some very interestng abilities.  I bet everyone had a great time with this one.

~hf


----------



## Manzanita

Very cool combat.  I was a bit surprised that the FMK leapt to the attack of Tanweil quite so quickly.  He seems to be a half-dragon who wants to kill 'mom'.  Interesting.  Maybe wouldn't be such a bad thing if he suceeded.  Care to remind me why they're so opposed to him?  Just because they're allied w/the gnomes and fear for their leader's life?

As a non-sequitor, how do you roll up ability scores for your PCs?


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Very cool combat.  I was a bit surprised that the FMK leapt to the attack of Tanweil quite so quickly.  He seems to be a half-dragon who wants to kill 'mom'.  Interesting.  Maybe wouldn't be such a bad thing if he suceeded.  Care to remind me why they're so opposed to him?  Just because they're allied w/the gnomes and fear for their leader's life?




They are not necessarily "opposed" to him - They wanted to talk with him, but he does not seem one much for talking.  Also keep in mind that he has killed several gnomes already.

But you'd have to wait and see if any of my players chime in on the subject (don't hold your breath   )



			
				Manzanita said:
			
		

> As a non-sequitor, how do you roll up ability scores for your PCs?





Players have a choices of two methods:

1) Rolling 4d6 and drop the lowest six times and apply them in any order to your stats.

OR

2) Roll two sets of six stats using 4d6 IN ORDER and choose the set you prefer.

In both cases, your positive and negative adjustments should add up to at least +1 or you can re-roll completely.


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

Good to see this back; I enjoy the way the story is progressing.


----------



## Manzanita

nemmerle said:
			
		

> ...Players have a choices of two methods:
> 
> 1) Rolling 4d6 and drop the lowest six times and apply them in any order to your stats.
> 
> OR
> 
> 2) Roll two sets of six stats using 4d6 IN ORDER and choose the set you prefer.
> 
> In both cases, your positive and negative adjustments should add up to at least +1 or you can re-roll completely.




...a +1 total adj.  Would be harsh.  I recall from the days when the rogues Gallary was being updated, that some of the PCs (like Kazrack and Rachis) had significantly better characteristics than others (like Jeremy and Jana).  I may fiddle with those methods a bit.

In any case.  Still enjoying this SH very much.  Keep up the good work, Nemmerle.


----------



## Ciaran

nemmerle said:
			
		

> They are not necessarily "opposed" to him - They wanted to talk with him, but he does not seem one much for talking.  Also keep in mind that he has killed several gnomes already.
> 
> But you'd have to wait and see if any of my players chime in on the subject (don't hold your breath   )



I'm not entirely sure how it happened, but I think it was one of those groupthink moments where we saw our affiliated NPCs jump on Tanweil, we saw Tanweil hurt the friendly NPCs, then one PC joined the attack...  and we were committed.  After all, once Debo and Gunthar jumped Tanweil, it would be hard to convince him that the _rest_ of us were friendly, eh?

Basically, Nemmerle made it happen.  

- Eric


----------



## Manzanita

Ciaran/eric.  Thanks for the input.  Which one are you?


----------



## el-remmen

Ciaran said:
			
		

> I'm not entirely sure how it happened, but I think it was one of those groupthink moments where we saw our affiliated NPCs jump on Tanweil, we saw Tanweil hurt the friendly NPCs, then one PC joined the attack...  and we were committed.  After all, once Debo and Gunthar jumped Tanweil, it would be hard to convince him that the _rest_ of us were friendly, eh?
> 
> Basically, Nemmerle made it happen.
> 
> - Eric




Hey, it is not my fault you guys don't know how to handle the NPCs


----------



## el-remmen

Just to let you loyal readers know, I began on the next installment last night and have lovingly entitled it "_Aftermath_".


----------



## mmu1

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Ciaran/eric.  Thanks for the input.  Which one are you?




Martin the Green, I think. (There are two Erics, which makes it confusing, but unless they moved, I think I got it right)

As for character stats... Yeah, Ratchis and Kazrack are way ahead of everyone, although I attribute their continued survivial to being played by very risk-averse players more than anything else.


----------



## weiknarf

Just finished the story.  Great Stuff!

Couple of questions:

1) How did you determine what happened when the Shepherds took on the Temple of "Bast"?  Did you know what you wanted to happen and just handwave it or did you have some random/mechanical means of determining the outcome?

2)  You have mentioned that the FMKs are having a difficult time partly due to heading in directions you did not think they would tackle so soon.  My question is, how static are the levels of the NPCs?  It seems to me that teh Shepherds have increased in level.  What about Richard the Red, Rindalith, and other major NPCs?  Do they increase in level as the FMKs do or will they eventually be surpassed?


----------



## el-remmen

weiknarf said:
			
		

> Just finished the story.  Great Stuff!




Did you start from the beginning, or did you just start with the FMK thread?



			
				weiknarf said:
			
		

> Couple of questions:
> 
> 1) How did you determine what happened when the Shepherds took on the Temple of "Bast"?  Did you know what you wanted to happen and just handwave it or did you have some random/mechanical means of determining the outcome?




Well, originally I wanted to run the adventure as a Play-By-Post mini-campaign - but unfortunately, I did not have the time to follow up with it even once I got a group of willing Story Hour readers to playe the roles of Frank, Gwar, Josef, Carlos and Finn.

In the end, I basically hand-waved it, but keeping in mind their capabiliites and the development of the situation there, since originally the adventure was supposed to be one for the FMK.




			
				weiknarf said:
			
		

> 2)  You have mentioned that the FMKs are having a difficult time partly due to heading in directions you did not think they would tackle so soon.  My question is, how static are the levels of the NPCs?  It seems to me that teh Shepherds have increased in level.  What about Richard the Red, Rindalith, and other major NPCs?  Do they increase in level as the FMKs do or will they eventually be surpassed?




It seems to me that the PCs are advancing in level at a rate that is way above the norm int terms of "in-game" time (at this point in the campaign less than a year had passed and they had gained an average of 7 levels).

Usually, I think there is a lot more downtime in a campaign between "adventures", but this has not been the case in the "Out of the Frying Pan" campaign -so, as Richard the Red said in _yesterday's_ session - "You have improved greatly in the short time I have known you, forged by the fires of the situation you have found yourself in."

Anyway, to answer the question more directly, NPCs definitely advance as well, just not quite at the same rate as the PCs.


----------



## weiknarf

I started from the very beginning.  Thanks for the answers.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #62 (part 2)*

*Session #62*

“Schlomo’s dead!” Kismet wailed.  “Everyone I know is dead.” She collapsed hysterical atop her companion, clutching his bloodied body as she wept.

Anarie moved to comfort her, but remembered Debo and moved to aid him. 

“Oh don’t worry about him,” Rhondar lips flapped, as he came back in the great chamber.  “Debo can’t die.  Just leave him.”

Anarie shrugged and moved to aid Martin who was weeping as he tried to aid Frederick, but the bard had lost too much blood, and the watch-mage was just sitting cross-legged, his face buried in his bloody hands.

She then went over to check Ratchis and Beorth.  The half-orc had stabilized, but Beorth was still bleeding out and Anarie got to work.  To her surprise, Kismet crawled over and helped, still crying. 

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

On the altar Kazrack awoke to the feeling of warm breath washing over him.  There was a great pain in his face, and he reached blindly for his jaw, and then winced and cried out.  His mailed hands had pushed a shard of bone into the meaty mess of his face.  The dwarf’s jaw was shattered.  He froze as he heard the sound of grating stone above him, and he opened his eyes slowly to find the stone golem of the great dog of Lehrothronar standing above him. 

Kazrack closed his eyes and let his hand slide slowly down to the bag of runestones about his neck, and gave a silent prayer, projecting the power of his faith as granted by his gods towards the golem above him.

The dog’s stone head cocked down towards the rune-thrower, and then it looked up and stepped back, getting into a sitting position. (1)

When Kazrack let out a sigh, he felt his blood dribble down his throat and choke him.  The dwarf sat up with a start and spat the blood.  The great living statue did not react.

“Are we friends now?” Kazrack asked the dog in dwarven, but again it did not react.

Kazrack stood, wary of the dog, but decided to have faith that it would not hurt him, as every moment jarred his jaw so much that he doubted he would be able to flee it anyway.

Holding his left hand to his face, he limped over to the front of the chamber to check on his companions.  The great stone dog got up as it turned to follow him, but did not follow off the altar, taking up its spot on the stone ramp.

Martin and Anarie were happy to see the dwarf was still alive, but Martin’s own jaw dropped when he saw Kazrack’s mangled face.  Anarie was impassive as usual.

Kazrack tried to talk, but his words were indecipherable, and he spat blood and bits of flesh as he choked out words in the back of his throat; not to mention the great pain it caused him.

Rhondar pulled Frederick’s body back into the chamber, and he and Kazrack pushed the door back shut.

An argument ensued after Kazrack decided that it would be best to get the wounded to one of the alcoves and hole up in there until they recover. Martin thought it was foolish to search them, but Kazrack’s inability to be understood was so frustrating to both of them, they just gave up and Kazrack hustled up to the alcove where the monks had been, and looked around.

Kazrack found several packs holding rations, and two different books (both .  There were also several straw mats, and signs that a small fire had been lit in the alcove.  There were smoke stains on the statue of Krauchaar (2) at one end of the alcove.  There were several spots for prayer stones (3) to be set before it.

Seeing there was no danger there, he went on to search the other alcoves, finding each one was dedicated to another of the dwarven gods.  

After returning to help bring the wounded up to that alcove, Martin _levitated_ himself to the roof, and dragged himself across the ceiling reaching from support to support and floating down to retrieve the unconscious form of Hamfast.  The great stone dog golem came to life again, but once Martin floated up and out of reach, it returned to its spot.

It was long hard work to get all the wounded up to the alcove without aggravating their wounds.  Debo was left where he lay.

Rhondar gave him a kick and said, “He’ll be alright, _eventually_.”

Kazrack retrieved the sealed clay pots Anarie and Martin spellbooks were in, and cracked them open for them.

Gathering together everything they could find on the monks,  which included the two books (still in their oilskin bags), a rod in three pieces connected by chains and a pair of black metal and leather bracers worn by Hamfast that were covered with designs depicting ships, skulls and a full moon, Anarie cast her _detect magic_ spell.

She cried out, as one of the two books exuded such a bright and powerful aura of magic it drowned everything else out and blinded her momentarily.

The book in question, which was nearly one and half feet high and a foot wide, and two inches thick, was removed from the others (but kept in the bag), and the aura of the other things was detected.  The bracers detected as magical, but the other book did not.

Martin carefully pulled it out of the bag and flipped through it.  It was a traveling spellbook, a _read magic_ spell, and in a moment he was oohing and aahing over what he found within.

“What about the other tome?” Anarie asked.

“Well, we can have Rhondar go behind a pillar and open it and see what happens,” Martin quipped.

“Martin!” Anarie admonished disapprovingly.   Martin shrugged with a weak smile.

“I’ll take watch,” Rhondar said, coming into the alcove.  He immediately sat down and fell asleep snoring loudly.


Teflem, 20th of Sek – 565 H.E.

It was impossible to tell if it was truly morning, but Kazrack allowed her dwarven intuition to guide him.

As Martin spent his morning learning _Bull’s Strength_ from the captured spell book, Kazrack prayed for nothing but spells of healing, and proceeded to lose spell after spell as his fractured jaw made the verbal components of the spells nearly impossible to intone. (4)

In the end, he was only able to make one prayer work, bringing Ratchis closer to consciousness, but still a ways off.

Anarie cleverly used her _Endurance_ spell to temporarily bring Beorth to consciousness.

“Who calls me from Anubis’ Realm?” Beorth croaked.

“You must get yourself together and call on your god’s power to close your wounds so that you will not slip towards death’s door once again,” Anarie replied, calmly.

“So, he got away with the sword?” Beorth asked, slowly sitting up and holding his gut as he winced in pain.

Anarie nodded.

“Debo want sword!  Where sword man?” the voice echoed from down in the chamber, and Rhondar hurried to go soothe his companion the best he could and explain what had happened.  Angry, Debo slapped the lanky rogue several times, causing the latter to flee back into the alcove.  The seemingly immortal barbarian followed soon after.

“Heal Gunthar!” He commanded Kazack.  “Gunthar will have plan to get sword and kill leaping-warrior!”

It took a while to explain how that would be impossible.

He howled like a wolf, but finally settled down and slept most of the day away, his remaining wounds slowly disappearing as the hours wore on.

Martin explained to Beorth about the book that had been found among the monks’ things and how it detected so strongly of magic that is washed out all around it.

Beorth approached where the book lie, still wrapped in its oilskin bag, and reaching towards it, covered his eyes, calling to Anubis to reveal auras of evil in the area.

He suddenly stumbled backwards and his shaved head slammed against the marble floor of the alcove.  Anarie hurried over to him, and saw blood pouring from the paladin’s nose.  A moment later, he awakened, holding the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.

“Pure evil,” was all he said.


Anlem, 21st of Sek – 565 H.E.

The next day Beorth was able to bring Ratchis to consciousness, and he in turn was generous with the healing of his goddess after having prepared some spells.   He helped Gunthar last, while Debo roared to get him conscious.  The barbarian was growing more irritable by the day.

“Ugh! I feel as raw as the space between a whore’s legs,” Gunthar complained, sitting up

“He’s fine,” Martin commented on the Neergaaardian’s health.

“Tell me ya got that crazy bastard who was a killing machine?” Gunthar asked the group.

No one replied, by way of answer.

“Well, at least tell me he didn’t get away with that filthy sword?” Again, these was no answer.

“Aw, son of rotten-milk bitch,” he swore.

Ratchis spent a good deal of the morning resting, but in the afternoon he looked after Kazrack’s raw wound, and tried to tie the jaw in place with a bandage so that is might heal itself in time with the aid of magical healing, but he knew it would not likely heal without magical healing of significantly more power than was available to the group.

Later in the day, Martin took Ratchis aside and explained to him about the book among the monk’s things.

“So, we leave it alone, and just hold on it until we come across someone powerful enough to deal with it, kind of like we’ve done with that amulet Beorth carried around,” Ratchis reasoned. (6)

“and so I would agree, except I think it is the Book of Black Circles,” Martin whispered in reply.  “Since we have come here, I have felt that indescribable urge to fulfill the quest for Osiris grow, slowly at first, but now it feels more urgent.  I think it is no coincidence that there is an incredibly powerful evil book among a brotherhood of monks who seem to have lost their way from Anubis.” (6)

Ratchis sighed.

“So what do you plan to do?” Ratchis asked.

“I plan to take the book somewhere secluded, perhaps with you standing guard when you feel better and see if I can fulfill my quest right here and now,” Martin replied.

“Don’t be stupid,” Ratchis replied.  “We need to get into this map room, which I think is beyond the door that Hamfast got fried at and find out where the entrance to Hurgun’s Maze is, and _then_ you can figure out what to do with the book.”

“I understand your point of view, but I am supposed to cast a spell from it before I destroy it, and I don’t know if the spell is what destroys it, or if I am supposed to accomplish something specific with the spell before destroying it, or even if the casting of the spell is beneficial to me, and maybe it is something we need, because we all know the gods work in mysterious ways.”

Ratchis sighed again.

“Show me the book,” Ratchis said.

Martin walked over and picked up the bag.  He looked confused for a moment, and then turned away from the half-orc.  He felt a strange sort of shame come over him.

Ratchis reached for the book.

“I… I can’t,” Martin said.

“What do you mean?” 

“I feel compelled to keep it; to not let you have it.”

“Do you think that is because of Osiris, or because of the book?” Beorth asked, walking over, having overheard.

“What are all you sissies whispering and gossiping about?” Gunthar asked, walking over.  “One of ya got a crush on the elf, or something?  I hear having an elf girl is as close to giving it to a teen-aged boy you’re every gonna get, ya sick bastards!”

Gunthar’s guffaws died suddenly with a cry of pain.  He was still somewhat wounded.

“Oh, not that I wouldn’t have a bite of that, though,” He winked through a wince.

“Gunthar, this has nothing to do with you, now go sit down before I put you down,” Ratchis replied.

Debo leapt to his feet.

“Oh ho!  Big ole bully pig-f*cker thinks he can tell people what to do,” Gunthar snickered.  “What would Nephthys say about that? I wonder.”

Ratchis growled.
Gunthar laughed at him and walked back out onto the balcony, followed by Debo and Rhondar, where they did some whispering of their own, with occasional dismayed shrieks from the rogue.

“Have you looked at the cover of the book?” Beorth asked.  “Perhaps it holds some clue as to its origin and if it is truly the relic we all think it may be.”

Kazrack came over, “Ruh rehleh?”

No one understood him.

“The book radiates such powerful magics I fear that I would not be able to determine if it has any wards that might harm me if I open the book,” Martin explained.

“Uh ill uh-eh it,” Kazrack tried to say.

Everyone looked to him and shrugged.  The dwarf made a gesture of opening a book.

“Rest, Kazrack,” was all Martin said.

“Uh um uh uh-eeust,” Kazrack replied.

“Here we go again, “ Ratchis rolled his eyes.

“Kazrack, don’t be foolish,” Beorth admonished.

It was decided that the book could wait for the next day, when everyone would be more rested and more fully healed.


Ralem, 22st of Sek – 565 H.E.

Hours and hours later, hoping their body clocks were keeping with the habit of the days passing way above them in the surface world, they shared some soggy rations around a small fire.

Martin the Green scooped up the oilskin bag containing the book and gestured to Ratchis who followed him.  They walked over to the opposite alcove.  This one held a statue of Hodanar, the dwarven god of trade and song.

Ratchis waited out on the balcony, eying the great dog warily, while Martin sat with his legs crossed and the book in his lap.  Taking a deep breath, he reached into the bag and pulled the book out.

He recoiled for moment, feeling the worn hide cover of the book, but there was also something intriguing about the cold covers of dead flesh.  The black book slipped out into his lap, and for a moment he saw the raised black interlocked circles on its cover, but then all went black.

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

(1)	*DM’s Note:* Kazrack needed to successfully roll to turn a 10 HD undead, and then roll enough “turning damage” to destroy 14 HD in order to keep the thing at bay, and then subsequently speak to it in ancient dwarven to have it obey him.

(2)	Krauchaar, as you likely know by now, is the dwarven god of war and battle.

 (3) A prayer stones is a heavy personal altar that pious dwarves carry with them everywhere. They are etched with runes that tell the life of the dwarf it belongs to.

(4)	*DM’s Note:* Kazrack suffered an 85% chance of spell failure for all spells with a verbal component.

(5) You have to go way back to session #8 to know what he is talking about.

	(6) Martin’s task for Osiris in return for bringing Jeremy back to life was first discovered in Session #23


----------



## Manzanita

I don't know that I agree that Kazrack and Ratchis are risk averse.  What about the solo scout trip in the broken lands?  What about the vow not to wear armor.

They're lucky perhaps.  

In any case, another cool update.  I love how old plot threads keep resurfacing.


----------



## Pyske

Manzanita said:
			
		

> I don't know that I agree that Kazrack and Ratchis are risk averse.  What about the solo scout trip in the broken lands?  What about the vow not to wear armor.




Or the Kazrack trap-detection method.  Or the alternating cries of "Wait!" "Charge!" between the two.

Call me crazy, but I think that might have been irony I heard in Eric's voice.


----------



## el-remmen

Pyske said:
			
		

> Or the Kazrack trap-detection method.  Or the alternating cries of "Wait!" "Charge!" between the two.
> 
> Call me crazy, but I think that might have been irony I heard in Eric's voice.




It was Matt, not Eric that used the term 'risk averse' and I think his opinion is colored by the encounters and sub-plot that developed around the time his character joined the group (not for another 8 or 9 sessions in terms of the Story Hour).


----------



## Dherys Thal

*Rename Kazrack*

Kazrack should just change his name to Job and get it over with.  What a luckless dwarf.


----------



## Tony Vargas

Manzanita said:
			
		

> I don't know that I agree that Kazrack and Ratchis are risk averse.
> 
> They're lucky perhaps.



 They're Clerics.    One thing I've noticed is that both of them make frequent, reasonably good use of thier spells, especially healing, and are quick to stop and regain spells when they run out - even, as in the above, going so far as to rest, expend all their spells healing, then 'rest' some more.  Given the relatively low-magic world, and the inclusion of devestating critical hits and fumbles, it's a necessary strategy.  This is not the first time they've been burdened with debilitating injuries, for instance.

Kazrack /is/ 'risk-adverse' when it comes to the party as a whole, though - he generally tries for negotiation before combat (even though it almost never works), and caution in exploration (likewise).  Conversely, when it comes to his own safety he all but has a martyr complex - he's not heedless of risk, but he'd always rather put himself at risk than someone else - even when he's not the one best able to face the risk.  That - even more than his stubborness or his no-armor-oath religious crisis - is probably his 'tragic flaw.'


----------



## el-remmen

Tony Vargas said:
			
		

> Kazrack /is/ 'risk-adverse' when it comes to the party as a whole, though - he generally tries for negotiation before combat (even though it almost never works), and caution in exploration (likewise).  Conversely, when it comes to his own safety he all but has a martyr complex - he's not heedless of risk, but he'd always rather put himself at risk than someone else - even when he's not the one best able to face the risk.  That - even more than his stubborness or his no-armor-oath religious crisis - is probably his 'tragic flaw.'




Holy Crap On A Stick!

Someone actually _gets_ and can _explain_ Kazrack!

You sir, get the _"story hour reader of the month award"!_


----------



## Pyske

nemmerle said:
			
		

> It was Matt, not Eric that used the term 'risk averse' and I think his opinion is colored by the encounters and sub-plot that developed around the time his character joined the group (not for another 8 or 9 sessions in terms of the Story Hour).



 Sorry for the mis-attribution.


----------



## mmu1

Well, the "" was meant to indicate I wasn't entirely serious to begin with... 

I guessone way to put it is that they're suicidally brave when it comes to the big stuff almost guaranteed to get you killed (Where we go, there's a Demon King and a Devil Queen, and we're almost certain to die!), but really conservative when it comes to everything else. (No, don't climb that. No, we're not going to fight them. Logan, I can't believe you just dared them to drop Gunthar in the river. No, we don't need you to go scouting, we have Arcane Eye. Just because this Paladin of Thoth tried to kill us, it doesn't mean you shouldn't be polite to him.)


----------



## Ratchis

mmu1 said:
			
		

> I gues some way to put it is that they're suicidally brave when it comes to the big stuff almost guaranteed to get you killed (Where we go, there's a Demon King and a Devil Queen, and we're almost certain to die!), but really conservative when it comes to everything else. (No, don't climb that. No, we're not going to fight them. Logan, I can't believe you just dared them to drop Gunthar in the river. No, we don't need you to go scouting, we have Arcane Eye. Just because this Paladin of Thoth tried to kill us, it doesn't mean you shouldn't be polite to him.)




That's a funny way to put it but really accurate.

Basically, we feel like we are the keepers of a great responsibility and we really have to see it through to the end since it doesn't look like we will have more than one chance at this (tho readers will see later in the Story Hour that there might be an unexpected ally in our quest).

I would like to think Ratchis has not acted rashly or needlessly put his and the party's life in danger except when it would serve the greater good as he sees it. He does have a weakness for slavers (wanting to kill them all), the downtrodden (see his defense of Kamir)  or his intolerance for some time of Richard the Red (and his mind-controlling magics). 

I do not know how good a job I have done of playing him as a friar and as chaotic but I still get my spells so I couldn't have been too off.  Basically I try to bring his ethos and alignment together with the nearly 60 page background I wrote to make his reactions as real and consistent as possible.

As for the previous post describing Kazrack's personality, I think it is completely spot on and I am curious yet afraid to have a similar light shone on Ratchis.

He is definitely the deepest character I have ever played.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Ratchis said:
			
		

> ... Basically I try to bring his ethos and alignment together with the nearly 60 page background I wrote to make his reactions as real and consistent as possible.
> ...




Are you gonna post any of that here?  I'd enjoy seeing it.

GW


----------



## el-remmen

Graywolf-ELM said:
			
		

> Are you gonna post any of that here?  I'd enjoy seeing it.
> 
> GW




He already did.


----------



## Martin Olarin

Tony Vargas said:
			
		

> They're Clerics.    One thing I've noticed is that both of them make frequent, reasonably good use of thier spells, especially healing, and are quick to stop and regain spells when they run out - even, as in the above, going so far as to rest, expend all their spells healing, then 'rest' some more.  Given the relatively low-magic world, and the inclusion of devestating critical hits and fumbles, it's a necessary strategy.  This is not the first time they've been burdened with debilitating injuries, for instance.
> 
> Kazrack /is/ 'risk-adverse' when it comes to the party as a whole, though - he generally tries for negotiation before combat (even though it almost never works), and caution in exploration (likewise).  Conversely, when it comes to his own safety he all but has a martyr complex - he's not heedless of risk, but he'd always rather put himself at risk than someone else - even when he's not the one best able to face the risk.  That - even more than his stubborness or his no-armor-oath religious crisis - is probably his 'tragic flaw.'




Can't say there is anything I disagree with here (though who is best able to deal with something is often hard to determin).

A general unwillingness to explore is directly tied to the group's overall quest - he is not willing to risk that quest's success over something not directly tied to the quest.  Of course, what is directly tied to the quest can be argued.


----------



## el-remmen

For those who might be confused:

The poster known as *Martin Olarin* _plays_ *Kazrack Delver*,

and *Ciaran* plays *Martin the Green*.

Can you guess who the person that posts as *Ratchis* plays?


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

nemmerle said:
			
		

> He already did.




Thanks, somehow I mised that link in all the past story.  Something else to go chew on for a bit.

Thanks,
GW


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #62 (part 2)*

Isilem, the 2nd of Sek – 569 H.E.

“Marty!  Marty! Wake up!” called a young woman’s voice.  It was familiar to Martin, and yet he was confused as to why he should be hearing it.  He turned over in bed and put his pillow over his head.  He had noticed the sunlight streaming into the room, right on his face.

“It is always the same, when you wear that gaudy ring you shuffle around all night and keep me up, and when you don’t you sleep too much, and complain that being one of the legendary Fearless Manticore Killers you’ve earned the right to sleep in some,” the voice continued.  Martin could hear feet climbing towards him and then someone leapt into the feather bed.

“Come on!” She whined.  “You know today is the party and plus tomorrow we begin our journey.  We don’t have time to tarry!  _Unless…_ A mischievous tone entered her voice.  “Unless you want to get an early start on the children!”

She yanked the pillow from his head, and he spun around surprised.  She was awfully familiar, and then instinctively it came to him.  It was Marion, youngest of the princesses of Gothanius, but something was wrong.  When Martin the Green had last seen her, she had been a girl of about 12 – now she was a very pretty young woman of about 17 or 18.  She put a lock of her red-tinted brown hair behind an ear, and smiled widely.

“Uh… children?” Martin gulped.  Marion’s smile turned around.

“Oh, Marty!  You always say the same thing!  You aren’t in the mood, or we should wait unti lwe get to Thricia so I won’t be with child during the long journey.  As if you could not just use your magic to swoosh us there safely in an instant, but oh, no… You could never abuse your power that way…”

She was climbing down off the bed loft by this point, apparently satisfied to have wakened Martin with her complaining, but annoyed at having her advances shunned.

Martin shook his head to clear it.  His mind raced, as he tried to collect all the data of his environment to figure out what was going on.  He was in comfy bed loft in small cottage in the style similar to those he had seen in the various villages of Gothanius.   He was apparently married to the youngest of the Gothanian princesses and sometime had passed since the last thing he clearly remembered, as she appeared some five years older.  And the last thing he remembered?  The great fight in the temple chamber beneath the Pit of Bones, but there was another set of faint memories since that time.  He struggled to recall them and became dizzy.

“Marty!” Marion’s voice called the main area of the house, below.  “Don’t make me call you again!”

Martin snapped up and edged his way off the loft.  He looked down at the rest of the finely appointed house, trying hard to gather clues and use his reason to figure out what was going on, and to squash the fear growing in the pit of his stomach.

 The house was cozy.  There was a small kitchen in an adjoining room, and what appeared to be a sitting room, with a corner with a desk piled with scrolls and books.  There was nothing too fancy about it, but there were details that belied its wealth.  There were silver candelabras and a finely woven rug of a style common to halflings textiles of Thricia.  The curtains were fine lace,a nd the furniture was of a hardy and polished wood of the finest craftsmen.  

Marion was busy in the kitchen, though she did not seem to be cooking anything, but was straightening it up and opening the curtains and opening a window.  She wore a simply gray dress, not all that different from those common to the wives of Gothanius, but again Martin’s discerning eyes noticed that the cloth it was made from was of fine quality, and the stitching not found among a common house seamstress that would make her own clothes.

He climbed down and made his way over to a wardrobe, and as he guessed, inside he found a few sets of his emerald watch-mage’s robes, along with travel clothes all stitched in green.  He got dressed behind a screen, and then suddenly remembered!

“Thomas!  Where are you?” He reached out with his thoughts to his familiar.  

“I’m over here, silly!” Thomas chittered in reply.  “Why so excited?”

The squirrel came scurrying across the rafters and leapt onto Martin’s shoulders.  The watch-mage could see the beams were scored with holes, creating a home for his familiar.

“Thomas?  What is going on?  Where am I?”

“Huh? Stop being silly!  We’re in Summit, but tomorrow we’re going home!” The squirrel replied.  “Now if you don’t mind me, I’m going to get some nuts.”

“No, stay close to me,” Martin insisted.  He could feel his familiar’s disappointment empathically.

“Um, when will they get here?” Martin asked his wife, trying to fake like he knew what was going on.

“Oh, any time now this morning.  You know, you told the alderman last night at dinner,” Marion replied.  “I do hope old Beatrice gets here soon with the things I asked her to prepare, and that awful Julissa.”

“Don’t call her ‘old Beatrice’,” Martin heard himself admonishing.  Marion clucked her tongue at him.

“I, uh… need to look through some papers and, uh…prepare, uh… things for the, uh… trip,” Martin tried to cover for his sudden idea to check his own journals for clues as to what was going on and account for the apparent missing time.

“Oh!” Marion whined. “You promised you’d be done with all that days ago, but all you ever do is fuss over those things.  When we go to Thricia, you had better not keep up stuffed inside libraries and visiting sages.  I want to experience some of the culture, and go to balls and visit the wonders you used to tell me about every night before we went to sleep…that first year we were married.”

Her voice grew sad, and Martin twitched uncomfortably.

“Uh, why not go check on the widow Beatrice?” Martin suggested.

Marion put her hands on her hips and stormed out, stopping only to grab a shawl.

Martin began to frantically look through his papers and found several volumes of what made up a journal, including a scorched and worn version of the one he last remembered having.  He poured over the pages, looking to piece together what had happened.

What he found was perplexing.  Here was the detailed record of nearly his every day since finding the Book of Black Circles, including the party’s journey into Hurgun’s Maze.  He found many references to shifting rooms, planar gates, creatures of flame and of ice and of stone, and of shadow, and had to tear himself away from an account of the destruction of Mozek Steamwind (1) to find what references he could to the Book of Black Circles.  One thing he did find was that as the entries became more recent, there was all but the merest allusion to explaining events, and more and more spell theory and exploration of spell ideas.

Finally, he found what he was looking for, a reference to “taming the Book” and deciding it was best not destroyed, but its power tempered by wisdom and humility.  Martin looked around the house once more.  Surely, this was a humble existence.  He wondered where the book was, and suddenly he knew it was in a hollow behind the bedtable up in the Loft.

He flipped through his journal some more, hoping to absorb as much of his past as possible.  He saw several references to casting spells beyond his ability using the book, and of a great number of magical items of great power to be found in Hurgun’s Maze.

“Marty! Are you still going through your papers?” Marion’s voice startled the Watch-Mage and he tossed the volume he was perusing onto the desk.  “Come help me put out the things the widow Beatrice made; someone was coming up the road.”

Martin the Green found himself in the kitchen helping Marion set out various dishes of sausage and deviled eggs, and breads and jams.  There was two huge skins of mead, and a pot of oatmeal drowned in honey.  Marion talked on and on about how excited she was to see her sisters and her parents, and how glad she was that they would be staying at the castle for a few days before leaving.

“We will?” Martin asked.

“Stop playing stupid, Marty!” Marion bumped him with her hip, as her hands were full.  “I have a lot of other things I want to pack, and you know you have to confer with father and greet your replacement from the Academy, that is if he shows up in time.”

“Oh, yes that’s right,” Martin replied, weakly.  There was the sound of horses and loud voices from out the front window.  Marion stopped what she was doing and threw open the door.  Martin joined her.

There were four horses, one of which pulled a sledge on which was freshly hunted boar.  The other three horses held warriors in very fine gear.  The two men were dressed in fine mail, and travel stained cloaks of purple in color. They both wore two swords, and had long golden hair that shone in the morning sunlight. 

Martin could not believe what he was seeing.

 “Martin!  It is so great to see you!” Jeremy cried, hurrying over and greeting his friend with a tight embrace.

“Juh… Jeremy, how…how could this be?” Martin sputtered.

“What? I was invited…,” Jeremy scratched at his beard with one hand, while he waved to Marion with the other.  “Oh, and Tracel sends her regrets and told me to tell you she looks forward to see you at the castle.”

Martin could see that Jeremy wore the replica scabbard for _the Right Blade of Arofel_, but the longsword he wore had a scabbard of similar make.

“We hunted you a fat whore of a boar,” came Gunthar’s gruff voice.  He leapt off his horse.  “Hey Marty!”

He hurried over and scooped up Marion by the waist and spun her around.  She squealed like a child. 

“Get your hands off my sister or I’ll skewer you like I did that boar, _husband_,” The third rider was a tall and lean woman, also dressed in mail and armed. She had crossbow tied to her saddle.  She had long braids of auburn hair, and a handsome face that did not seem to have a feminine softness to it.  It was Princess Selma, the second oldest of king’s daughters.

Gunthar dropped Marion and ran at his wife playfully.  She pushed him aside, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back.  He was broke free painfully and swung around grabbing her in a bearhug. Selma began to punch down on his head.

Martin was appalled was about to look to Jeremy to intervene when he noticed that the couple were now kissing.  Selma bit Gunthar’s lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Oh, you little b*tch you are gonna pay for that,” Gunthar said between sucking on his lip.

“What are you going to do? Skewer me like that boar?” Mischievousness crept into her voice.

“Only, if you’re bad,” Gunthar replied.

 Martin shuddered and went inside, following Marion and Jeremy back into the house.

“Are they always like that?” Martin asked Jeremy.

“They’ve been caught in almost every room of the castle,” Jeremy laughed.  “Gunthar’s pretty rough, but I’m glad to have him around.  Things get pretty boring over in 12 Trolls.  Oh… speaking of which, Gunthar and I want to accompany you from 12 Trolls to Cutter Jack’s, along with Tracel and Selma.  We’re going to catch a ship to Neergaard and visit our folks.  They’ve spent a long enough time thinking I’ve dead, when I was really dead twice.”

There was an awkward silence as they came into the sitting room, and Jeremy began to take off his chain shirt.

“Thanks again, “ martin” Jeremy said with a hint of sadness in his voice.  “I owe you my life… twice over.”

“Twice over?” Martin was baffled.  “I, uh… only did my part with the Urn of Osiris…”

”Oh, don’t be so humble, Martin,” Jeremy chided.  “I don’t know how you did it, but those were some pretty power magics you harnessed in the Maze.  We wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”


“Uh, we’re going to go into the woods and look for a spot to _spar_,” Gunthar said, coming in to wink and nudge Martin with his elbow.  Selma rolled her eyes at the door, waiting for her husband.

“Looks like someone else is coming up the street, by the way,” Gunthar added as he took his wife about the waist and showed her out.  “Oh, and get some people to start doing something with that filthin’ boar.  It is going to take dog’s age to cook.”

“I’ll go see if Gib can give us a hand with that,” Jeremy offered, referring to the innkeeper over at the Sun’s Summit Inn.  “Let’s go outside and greet whoever is coming, and then I’ll bring the boar over.”

Outside, a white robed bald figure bearing a staff, and having shining silvery sword at his side came up the street.  He was flanked on either side and walking slight behind him, but six monks in black robes and sandals. They also had their head shaved bald.

It was Beorth.

“Martin!” The paladin called.  “It lightens my heart to see you well, and to know you are getting a well-deserved trip to your homeland.”

The companions clasped hands, and Jeremy  waved as he led the horse drawing the boar towards the inn.

“Beorth, I am so glad you are here,” Martin the Green said.  “I am not quite feeling myself and I fear something strange is going on.”

“What is it?” 

“I fear something has happened to my memory,” Martin explained.  “Or that this may all be a dream.”

“I do not feel like a figure in a dream,” Beorth replied with a rare smile. “Though I assume that none ever do.”

“Tell me of the Book of Black Circles,” Martin insisted.

“What of it?” Beorth’s face grew even paler than usual.

“Marty! Marty! Bring your friends in!” Marion called from within the house.

“Why did I not destroy it as Osiris asked of me?  How did I avoid death, which was the alternative?”

“You were able to bend the book to your will,” Beorth explained.  “You cast the spell from the book that helped close Hurgun’s Maze forever, and by breaking the evil spirit that guided it, you essentially destroyed it.  But you know this.  We debated it a great deal in the Maze, and in the end you were right.  I mean, where would I be if you had not returned to me my memory in the Chamber of the Living Runes?”

Beorth placed a hand on Martin’s shoulder.  “It is a great weight, such power and responsibility, but do not doubt your strength of will.  We all witnessed it first hand in the Maze and would never doubt it ourselves.”

Beorth and Martin walked back into the house, where the watch-mage climbed up into the bedloft, which the paladin greeted Princess Marion.


In the hollow beneath the small table they kept there, Martin found a locked iron box, which he was able to open with a touch of his finger.

Inside he found five large spell books, one of which he recognized as having been his very first.  It was well worn, and scorched in one spot.  He removed the books, flipping through them one by one and was amazed at some of the spells within that he _knew_ he knew as he spotted them.

Beneath them all, in another false bottom was the book he sought.  He recognized the worn cover of blackened human hide, and interlocking metal plates.  He hefted it on to his lap, and felt the raised circles on its covers.  

He considered the Book of Black Circles for a long moment and then thought if the means to destroy it might exist within the book, as the book likely had the means to destroy many things.  The cover flipped open of its own accord and the pages began to rapidly flip.  

Martin was startled as at that same moment he heard Marion’s voice call from below, “Are you looking at your spell books again?   You are being a rude host, and more of your friends have just arrived!”

Martin the Green’s head drooped and he held it in his hands trying to keep his breathing calm.   He glimpsed at the writing in the book and immediately saw it was a spell of _disintegration_, and that he did not also know this spell, but for some reason had it prepared. 

Pulling a lodestone and a pinch of dust from his satchel, Martin spoke a guttural arcane word as he pointed two fingers down at the book with severity.  The magic discharged, but the book was still there.

“It would have been too easy,” Martin sighed.

“Marty!!!!”

Martin looked down off the loft and saw that three guests had arrived.

----------------------------------------|
*Notes*

(1) Mozek Steamwind was the Interim Chief of the Garvan gnomes.  An apparent half-fiend, he killed their companion Chance.


----------



## Manzanita

OK.  That was weird.  You're not cheating us out of the rest of the story are your Nemmerle?  No.  I think Martin will figure this out.

If so, perhaps you had to have a solo session with his player?


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> perhaps you had to have a solo session with his player?




Nope.

Everyone played their own characters. . .


----------



## Manzanita

Did Jeremy's player make a special trip down for this one?  In any case, I'm very curious about the next installment.  I suppose I shouldn't try to rush it though.  Knowing how you DM, the solution to this current imbrolio could be some time in coming...


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Did Jeremy's player make a special trip down for this one?  In any case, I'm very curious about the next installment.  I suppose I shouldn't try to rush it though.  Knowing how *you* DM, the solution to this current imbrolio could be some time in coming...




The emphasis is mine. . .   Don't lay that on me!  It is not my DMing, but rather their playing. . .   :\     

And yes, Ken came down for that session, and we had Sean (aka Rastfar on the boards) playing Princess Marion.


----------



## weiknarf

Was this one of those tricks like jonrog and Piratecat pulled?


----------



## el-remmen

weiknarf said:
			
		

> Was this one of those tricks like jonrog and Piratecat pulled?




Please explain.


----------



## weiknarf

The trick in which they informed all the players but one what was going on and drop the clueless player into the situation with no clue what's going on and the other players playing along with the DM.  *whew*

Just wondering if you were up to something similar or something else entirely.


----------



## el-remmen

weiknarf said:
			
		

> The trick in which they informed all the players but one what was going on and drop the clueless player into the situation with no clue what's going on and the other players playing along with the DM.  *whew*
> 
> Just wondering if you were up to something similar or something else entirely.




You hit the nail on the head.


----------



## Manzanita

You're not waiting on us are you?  I'm starting to miss the thread.  It always starts to creep up on me a week or so after your last installment.


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> You're not waiting on us are you?  I'm starting to miss the thread.  It always starts to creep up on me a week or so after your last installment.




I wrote about 3 pages of the next installment last night. . .  So, hopefully it will be up in the next day or three. . .


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #62 (part 3 (of 4)*

Martin came down off the loft after tucking the book back away to find three more visitors had indeed arrived.

Two elven women just within the door. One wore a blue cape and nearly transparent lavender clothing of gossamer and tall flared boots.  She wore a short sword at her side, and had shining blonde hair.  It took Martin a moment to place her, and then he realized… It was Tirhas Tesfey.  Beside her was Anarie, dressed much as she did when he last clearly remembered seeing her.  In clean travel clothing of spun wool, and a green cloak.  Her eyes shone in the morning light.  

“Anarie!  Uh… Tirhas!  What a surprise!” Martin said, coming forward to awkwardly shake their hands.  Tirhas seemed unused to the gesture. 

“It would have been rude to ignore your invitation, though it seems like but a moment since we saw you last,” Anarie replied with a smile.  “Tirhas and I, as do our people owe you a great deal, and it is the least we could do to see you off on your journey.”

“_Elen sila lumen olmentilmo_,”(1) Tirhas said in her melodic voice. “Anarie and I will be  returning to Tempestas (2), so plan to accompany you to the coast where rumor has it an elven ship will be arriving soon.”

“Oh, uh…that is lovely,” Martin replied.

“However, if have need of me I still want to fulfill my debt to you, for without you my body would still be the plaything of that ancient witch and my spirit would dwell in a stony prison,” the elf added.

Martin was taken aback and stammered.  It was then that he noticed a large figure hovering in the doorway.  Dressed in travel stained clothing of brown, dull green and gray was the towering half-orc Ratchis, still seeming uncomfortable within the confines of a house.

Soon the house was alive with chatter as Jeremy returned, and soon after so did Gunthar and Selma.  The little house was crowded, and the many voices talking of things that Martin tried to digest dizzied him.

“Hey pig-f*cker! Don’t hoard all the turkey legs,” Gunthar shouted across the table. “Ow!” 
Selma had elbowed him had elbowed him hard.

Ratchis sneered, and then challenged the Neergaardian to an arm-wrestling match for the last drumstick.  “Uh-uh, I see you got your giant’s strength belt-thing on,” Gunthar protested.  “I ain’t stupid.”

“I’ll eat it,” Jeremy said, grabbing it. 

There was some kind of commotion outside, and everyone got up to go look, but Martin held Beorth back.

“Beorth, do you think you could do me a favor?” the watch-mage asked.

“Anything, so long as it does not violate the tenets of my faith,” the paladin replied.

“Could you use the sight granted to you by Anubis to check for any evil aura I might have,” Martin asked.

Beorth furrowed his brow.  “If you would like me to, but perhaps after dinner?”

“Of course,” Martin said.  He followed everyone outside and saw a line of three great lizards, with a crowd of townsfolk following carefully from behind.  The brown and green lizards were each being ridden by a pair of dwarves sitting back to back on elaborate saddles.

 The dwarf at the head of the first lizard, yanked the reins to stop his creature and hopped off.  He was covered in dust, and his red beard looked brown as he combed it out with a gloved hand.  

It was Kazrack.

“Hail Martin!  Watch-Mage of Summit!” He called happily, walking past all the others to grasp Martin’s wrist in a firm dwarven shake.  “It fills my heart with gladness to be able to see you off on your trip, and that I am reunited with all my old companions.”

“Uh, yes… Uh, it has been so long,” Martin stammered.

“Martin? Does something ail you?  You seem paler than usual<” the dwarf queried.  

“Yes, but still not paler than Beorth,” Jeremy quipped.

“No, I, uh… I’m just overwhelmed is all,” Martin tried to bluff through his confusion.

“Come! Let’s go inside while my crew attends to the mounts and have a glass of wine, or maybe a hearty ale,” Kazrack slapped Martin on the back hard.  “It will put color on your cheeks.  You haven’t been overusing that ring of yours have you?  How many times have I warned you not to trust those foul magics?  Nothing can truly replace a good meal and a good sleep.”

Back inside the companions continued to eat and talk of their journeys and plans.  Martin barely spoke, trying to figure out what to do next.  He scanned memory and his satchel and was amazed at the spells he currently prepared.  Spells of fifth and sixth house, that he would never have been able to prepare, let alone cast, before.

“Martin, you seem distracted,” Kazrack raised an eyebrow suspiciously. ”You aren’t…  You know, you aren’t thinking this is all some kind of dream again are you?”

The dwarf smiled and then  laughed, pointing at Martin.  “You are being foolish.”

“I have said this all felt like a dream before?” Martin asked.

“Sure, every now and again,” Kazrack said.

“Yes,” Beorth confirmed.  “You… you were under a lot of mental strain in the Maze, and I think your memory was affected.”

“Yeah, but don’t get too soft in head on us now, we still need you,” Jeremy winked.

“Yes, speaking of needing you, Beorth and I wanted to ask your aid in an endeavor we will be beginning to undertake,” Kazrack said.  “The clearing of the undead land of Dralmohir.”

Beorth nodded.  “It will take many years, as we will be seeking to map it and raise money and permission to build monasteries of Anubis upon its border in the Principality of Rhondria, and handle this as one would any war.”

“We are hoping that you will return from Thricia in a few years when we are more ready and use your powers and that of your book to aid us,” Kazrack said.

“Marty!  You aren’t going to run around risking your life even more are you!” Marion squealed.  

“Yeah, shouldn’t you be starting a family soon?” Jeremy winked.

“I can’t deal with this anymore!” Martin stood violently.

“Martin!  Whatever is the matter?” Marion stood, to put an arm around her husband, but he shirked away.

“Why won’t you detect evil on me?” Martin asked, turning to Beorth.

“It is okay, Martin.  If you want me to do it, I will do it now.  There is no need to get upset.”

“Calm down Martin,” Ratchis said.

“Anubis, grant me sight beyond sight so that I might see any aura of malefaction upon any in the room,” Beorth stood and covered his eyes, reaching out with the other hand.  “Nothing.”

“There is something not right here!” Martin insisted.

“Do you feel disoriented? Do you need to lay down?” Beorth asked with concern in his voice.

“A glass of wine?” suggested Anarie.

“Has someone been here to speak with you?  Could you be under a spell?” Ratchis offered.

“He’s thinking this is all not real again,” Kazrack said.  “This is real, Martin.”

“Oh man, another friggin’ meal disrupted by orc-rubbin’ by portents and prophecies,” Gunthar rolled his eyes.

“Shut up, Gunthar!” Jeremy punched his brother in the arm.

“You little sh*t!” Gunthar began to smack at each other, until a dirty look from Ratchis stopped them both.

“Come on!  You can’t take us both!” Gunthar taunted. “Not without your precious belt that is!”

“I insist that you tell me everything that happened in Hurgun’s Maze,’ Martin asked.

“Come on Selma, let’s go spare some more.  This is gonna take longer  that a horse’s funeral in Wallbrook,” Gunthar took his wife outside.

“A lot happened in the Maze, Martin,” Jeremy said, trying to sound soothing.  “One of the kind’s bards wrote a song about it based on your re-telling.  It was a horrible song.”

“It had a certain dirge-like quality I liked about it,” Beorth commented.

“Have you lost your memory Martin?” Ratchis asked.

Marion looked aghast, and took him by the shoulders and sat the watch-mage down again, putting a flap of his thinning hair to one side with a kiss.

“It seems that since I woke up this morning I can remember nothing of the things you speak of,” Martin confessed.

“You didn’t kill a pixie did you?” Kazrack asked.

Martin again stood up in frustration.

“I need to check my books and journals and figure this out,” Martin said.  “The Book of Black Circles must be the key to this whole thing.  I must look through it and find the spell to destroy it.”

“Yes, destroy it if you must,” Kazrack said, winking and elbowing Ratchis.  The half-orc scowled.

“Is that so wise?” Ratchis asked.  “At the time you said you were able to control the book and thus keep death from falling upon you even at Osiris’ will.”

“And since then you have done such good with it, like close Hurgun’s Maze, brought Jeremy back from limbo touched with planar goodness,” Beorth added.

“Not to mention bargaining with dragon to have her leave this area alone,” Jeremy said.  Martin noticed a subtle shine that seemed to emanate from the Neergaardian’s eyes and hair.

“Enough! I cannot concentrate on what I need to do with all of you talking to me at once!” Martin ran for the bed loft.

“Martin! Don’t be rash!” Beorth cried as he and the others stood.

“Let me check for a dweomer of charming on you,” Ratchis called, leaping over the table to catch the watch-mage.  “You are not yourself.”

“Or he is too much himself,” Kazrack swore.

Instinctively, Martin willed the Book of Black Circles to his arms.  He spun around at the base of the loft in time to see Ratchis charging at him.

“You are making a mistake!” the half-orc said, but it was too late Martin invoked one of the spells he had been surprised to determine he had prepared, and he disappeared.

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

Martin reappeared in an instant at a place he had remembered camping at the foot of the ridge the town of Summit was built upon. (3)

Afraid he might still be spotted, he pulled a miniature portal carved of ivory from his satchel, along with a silver spoon and a round piece of marble.  In a moment, there was shimmering portal before him eight feet high and four feet wide before him and stepped through it into an opulent mansion.

A translucent figure in green livery, took led him to a chamber with a great desk and a table covered in food.

“Leave me!” he said, throwing himself into a padded chair, and slammed the Book of Black Circles on the desk before him.

“Give me the spell I need,” Martin growled, uncharacteristically.

The book’s cover flew open and the pages began to rifle by of their own accord.   When they stopped Martin just sat dumb-founded for a long moment, covering his open mouth, and afraid to look at on what it might have stopped.

Martin the Green took a deep breath and looked at the open page, and then gasped again.

On the page in runes and letters in several different hands was a spell of the Ninth House. (4)  It was a spell that could bend the fabric reality itself, but for a price.  However, as he continued to read, he saw in black script directions would allow the caster to substitute other things for that price; souls.  

“No!” Martin said in frustration. He tried to imagine a spell in the book that might would physically destroy the book.  The pages began to flip again, and when they stopped Martin began to read a list of ingredients and the beginning of the detailing of complicated procedure by which a powerful priest or wizard could give himself near-immortality.  The price was even more costly.

Martin closed the book and sat for a while trying to think of various ways he might dispose of this thing permanently.  The book opened and flipped back and forth with his thoughts, but he did not pay it any mind, assuming that each choice it gave him would endanger his soul.

Finally, he thought of a spell he had heard of before that would allow the caster to shift himself into another plane of reality.

The pages of the Book of Black Circles flipped like mad and then stopped.  Martin looked and there was the spell.

He evoked the runes of the spell concentrating on the Positive Material Plane (5), clutching the book to his chest.

All went white.

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

(1) "_Elen Sila Lumenn Olmentilmo_" trainslates as '_A star shines brightly on the hour of our meeting_'.	

(2) Tempestas is the island homeland of the elves, a place of deep ancient forests surrounded by stormy seas.

(3) Several different times, the Fearless Manticore Killers camped on the outer edge of Greenreed Valley, at the foot of the trails that led down from Summit, including right before traveling to the Necropolis of Doom. 

(4)	The Book of Black Circles was actually the product of the work of seven powerful necromancers, each taking it from the last and adding to its lore and power.  The last was the infamous Marchosias the Corruptor.

(5)	This is the plane of pure good from which the power of the gods of good derives.


----------



## el-remmen

As a note of interest: This is the first time I have had to break up a session into more then three installments since some time in Book Two.


----------



## Jon Potter

nemmerle said:
			
		

> “_Elen sila lumen olmentilmo_,”(1) Tirhas said in her melodic voice. “Anarie and I will be  returning to Tempestas (2), so plan to accompany you to the coast where rumor has it an elven ship will be arriving soon.”




Great update, as usual! What a strange situation to put Martin the Green in. Truly inspired.

But I think you missed a couple of footnotes.


----------



## rigur

Great update Nem. Very cool.

Keep up the good work.

R.


----------



## Manzanita

I'll look forward to the next installment...


----------



## el-remmen

*Conclusion of the Pit of Bones Adventure*

*Session #62 (part iv)*

“How long has he been like this” Beorth asked.

“I don’t know, part of an hour, I guess,” Ratchis replied.

Martin the Green lay rigid on his side, the Book of Black Circles clutched tightly to his body.

“Maybe we should take the book from him,” Ratchis suggested.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” the paladin replied.  He kneeled in close to examine the wizard.  “His eyes are open and he is breathing, but he seems to be in some kind of state.”

“Kick him,” Gunthar said, coming into the alcove behind them.  “Works to get lots of things going.”

“Gunthar, I do not appreciate your demeanor,” Beorth said, sternly.

“Don’t get bent out of shape, Baldie,” Gunthar said.  “I’m just trying to help.”

Suddenly, Martin sat bolt upright and tossed the book away from him.  The book fell open, and the pages flipped of their own accord for a moment.

“It wasn’t real!” Martin cried.

“What wasn’t real?” Beorth asked.

“Are you okay?’ Ratchis asked.

“Dough-boy’s gone cuckoo,” Gunthar said, leaving to return to the camp in the other alcove.

Martin stood, but did not answer.  He walked over to the Book of Black Circles and careful not to read anything on the page he picked up the book and closed.  A chill went through his body.

“Martin, what is it?” Ratchis asked.

The watch-mage merely walked out of the alcove and down into the great room, and toss the book into one of the burning braziers.

Ratchis and Beorth had followed.  Ratchis walked over to the brazier as the fire died down and finally went out.  The book, however, had not a mark on it aside from the singed quality the hide cover already had.

Ratchis made to grab it.

“Wait!” Martin warned.  “It tried to tempt me. It showed me a life five years from now when all our goals were accomplished because I had taken to using the Book for good.”

“No such temptation would work on me,” Ratchis said.  “My goddess protects me from those things that would seek to fool or ensorcell my mind.”

“If your goddess will protect you then bless you for trying,” Martin sighed.  He sunk down to the ground once again.

Ratchis picked up the book and his face went pale.  He stumbled backward and dropped the book on the ground, and then almost fell to his knees.  The half-orc could feel the cold touch of negative energy shoot through his body  in a way that he had not felt since fighting the wight outside of Garvan. (1)

“No one touch it,” he said in shrill whisper.

Martin scooped the book up with the oilskin bag and sealed it back up.  “Let us try to have as little to do with it as possible until the time comes to destroy it.”

“Then how will you know what spell to cast from it?” Beorth asked.

“I have a feeling that when the time comes I will know which one it is,” Martin replied.  “I just hope that the spell o destroy it and the spell I must cast from it are one and the same.”

“How could it not be that way?” Beorth asked.

Martin just shrugged his shoulders, and looked sadly at Ratchis’ scarred and drooping face.

They went back up to the alcove where they had made camp where the others waited for them.

Beorth tried to get Kismet to talk about what her wishes were for Schlomo’s body, but she was despondent.  All the while, Rhondar let out an endless stream of complaints about how he wanted to get out of there.  Debo grunted and growled at everyone as he form of complaining.  A few times, he and Gunthar to talk, which mostly consisted of Gunthar cursing at the barbarian.

“Debo want to go,” Debo announced as he returned to the alcove the third time.  “Debo can’t die, but Debo still don’t want trapped down here forever.”

“Gun Ee-Un kuhn unlee uh uh uh-un,” Kazrack said, through the clenched mess of mouth he had.  Ratchis had set it the best he could.  Everyone looked at the dwarf and shrugged. (2)

“I’m with Debo,” Rhondar said. “I want to go.”

“I don’t care what happens,” Kismet said sullenly.

“How about you, Gunthar?  Will you come with us?” Beorth asked.

“Whut are ya doin’?”

Beorth did his best to explain about the planar bleed, the demon-gnomes, the succubus, the monks and Hurgun’s Maze.

“De-ruhn-Duh-lum iz cunnin on us,” Kazrack managed to get out.

“If this is so important, why not send for some heroes?” Gunthar asked. (3)

“Ee are uh heroes,” Kazrack grunted.

Gunthar rolled his eyes.

“We have sent for others, but it will take a long time for them to reach Derome-Delem,” Martin tried to explain.  “Until then, we are the only ones in a position to help.”

“Well, it sounds to me like the Hurgun’s Maze place is like those dungeon-complexes from the Age of Heroes, and if there is anywhere I can find a way to bring my brother back to life, it is one of those places,” Gunthar reasoned aloud.

“He may be happy where he is,” Beorth commented.

“I don’t care.  I just want my brother back,” Gunthar replied.  “I been looking for him for a long time and I ain’t gonna let his _real_ death stop me.”

“You can’t leave us!” Rhondar protested.  “We’re a group.  We have a plan!  Though it may be time to rethink the plan.”

“The plan can still work,” Gunthar said.  “But it works like I say it’ll work.”

“What was the plan, to give Debo the sword and have him jump down into the dragon’s gullet?” Martin asked facetiously.

“I guess, the wizard’s smarter than he looks,” Gunthar winked and poked Rhondar with his elbow.

“All of this is for naught,” Ratchis interrupted.  “We still do not know the dwarven name of the Maze, and if what Hamfast said is to be believed, which I have a feeling it is, then we are still far from succeeding at what we came here for.”

“Eave aut tuh me,” Kazark said, clutching the bag of runestones about his neck.

“And in the meantime, I will search Hamfast and his things and see if he might have had it written down somewhere,” Martin suggested.

The only thing of interest on Master Hamfast were a pair of black bracers with traced designed in silver and midnight blue of skulls and ships and the various phases of the moon.  The left bracer held a sheath for a dagger or dirk. A simple spell soon revealed their magical nature.

Martin was hesitant to put them on until he knew more about them.  Ratchis stowed them in his pack.

Meanwhile, Kazrack cast his stones before the statue of Natan-ahb in the alcove across from the one where camp had been made. 

Holding the idea of Hurgun’s Maze in his mind, he cast the stones from the bag in a circular pattern, and closed his eyes.   Inwardly, he beseeched his gods to grant him the answer to the question.  

When Kazrack opened his eyes he immediately saw the runes in the center had fallen in four groups of two, while a key runestone letter than by itself meant ‘together’ and often used for ‘and’ was very near the left of them.  The rest of the stones had scattered far.  He would have had to get up on his knees and stretch to read them.  Instead he ignored them.  Some instinct told him that these nine runestones were all he needed, for a second pattern was emerging, and he quickly moved the stones around until they could be read as “_ol’fargeh wurn, ol’sonn ihar_” or as _ol’fargeh ihar, ol’sonn wurn_”  or ol’fargeh sonn, ol’wurn ihar”.

These were the dwarven words for the four basic elements, and the pattern they suggested let them be interpreted in all combinations.  What else might dwarves call Hurgun’s Maze?

Kazrack tried to cheer, but as he opened his mouth, a shard of jaw bone shifted and fresh blood came into his mouth and he grunted in agony. 

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

It was decided that the party would immediately try to enter the door that Hamfast had been zapped at, and hope that having the dwarven name of Hurgun’s Maze (or at least the words needed to creat it) would be enough to protect them from whatever wards might be there.

“Are you coming?” Ratchis asked Gunthar.

“I promised o help you even though you didn’t help me with my quest, but unlike you pretty-talking folks I keep my word.”

“Ut iz unerable uh you,” Kazrack grunted out.

“And it is sh*tty of you,” Gunthar sneered.

“I don’t want to go in there,” Rhondar repeated.  “Gunthar, Debo, let’s go back.”

“I already said what I’m doing, ya pansy,” Gunthar replied.

“Debo go with Gunthar.  Debo stay with plan,” Debo said.

“I want to go with the plan to, but this isn’t part of plan,” Rhondar’s voice brayed like an ass’. “Why risk ourselves?”

“That elf girl has bigger balls than you do, Rhondar,”  Gunthar lambasted him.  “How do you expect to help with the dragon if you are pissing your armor all the time?”

“I’m good with the sneaking part of the plan,” Rhondar said this in a tone that suggested he had said something similar many many times.

“Then sneak your ass back out of here and meet us in Summit,” Gunthar said.  “The plan can stillw work, with some _changes_.”

Anarie and Beorth looked at each other, and then both looked to Martin, who shook his head.

“Will doughboy cast the spell on me again?” Rhondar looked to Martin.

“I am sure ‘Doughboy’, whomever he might be, would love to cast the spell of water-breathing on you.  I, however, expect respect from those who seek my aid.”

“Oh! Dough-boy’s getting uppity,” Gunthar said.  “Ya better slap him around and remind him who’s boss, eh, pig-f*cker?”

Martin sighed.

After the spell was cast and Rhondar made a stink about his ‘share of the treasure’, the rogue took off to the non-flooded levels above, while Kazrack made ready to approach the altar once again.

Holding his arms out, palms up in a display of trust, Kazrack walked forward, chanting in dwarven and projecting the pure positive energy of his god towards the great dog golem. (4)


The dog leapt off the stone ramp that led up to the altar area and smashed it’s head into the dwarf’s face once again.

Gunthar hustled behind a pillar well out of  reach snickering.  He had described in colorful language this exact thing happening.

“I’ll distract it!” Ratchis cried and ran over, temporarily enchanted sword in hand.

But the dog was not to be stopped, and grabbing the dwarf up like a doll, it tossed him aside to bleed.

Ratchis took off after his companion as Debo ran past the dog towards the altar getting its attention.  It turned to grab the barbarian, but he ran with great quickness for his stocky form and cutting sharply made for the steps of the opposite alcove.

Beorth ran forward and the dog, sensing him, turned.  

“Lehrothronar, in the name of Anubis I call on you to control this raging guardian that defends your temple for in Kazrack it shall be marshaled by steady hands!”  The paladin focused the power of his own god towards the golem in much the same way that Kazrack had, but whether his faith was not strong enough, or that dog could only be moved by the dwarven divine was unknown to him; either way it did nothing and the dog bound at him.


The stone golem barked, and the sound burst through the great chamber.  Martin was knocked off his feet, while Anarie’s head was ringing for moments after.

“Nephthys!  Heal my friend, the dwarf, so he may have another chance to be tested by his gods,” Ratchis prayed over Kazrack.

The dwarf climbed to his feet as the dog, turned to them after chasing off Beorth.

“Lehrananar, leh me me yuh sessel tuh duh yuh will an’ reveal the knowledge thut will uhlow us tuh nave tuh um-land uh uhn dwarves!”

The dog stopped, and then sat.

Everyone let out a sigh.

Kazrack cringed as he tightened the bandage and rag holding what was left of his jaw in place.

“Go back to your perch,” Kazrack commanded the dog in the sacred tongue of ancient dwarven.

Instead the stone golem dog stood and walked ponderously towards the dwarf, each step sending the sound of stone scraping on stone to echo painfully throughout the chamber.  The dog leaned forward and made as if to breathe on the dwarf and suddenly though the mouth was closed off stone, he felt a warm breath upon him, and most of his wounds began to heal.

In dwarven (which sounded like even more gibberish to the others), Kazrack thanked the golem for his loyal service and told him to continue to guard the room after he and his companions had left, until such time that he could return with enough dwarves to return this place to its former glory.

The dog returned to its post.

The Fearless Manticore Killers and their greatly diminished companions, Anarie, Kismet, Gunthar and Debo, climbed up onto the altar area and towards the small metal door, Hamfast had tried to get through.  Kazrack was examining the door with Anarie’s help when he noticed Gunthar over by the holy water font.  He was splashing the crystal clear water onto his neck and face.

“Whut uh you Ooh-ing?” Kazrack marched over and shoved the Neergaardian away from the font.

“I’m just friggin’ sweaty!” Gunthar replied.

“Duh nuh dehile uh temple uh muh people.”

“What?  I didn’t stick my head in it or anything!  Sheesh!” Gunthar swore.  “Friggin’ grubbers are touchy.”

“Juss stuh uh-wuy  frum ieh,” Kazrack grunted.

Gunthar chuckled at the dwarf and walked away from the font.

Kazrack filled three flasks with the holy water, praying softly to himself in dwarven as he did so.

“I can sense no evil from this door, or beyond it,” Beorth said.

“There is no magic emanating from it either,” Martin said.  “But there is no obvious way to open it.”

Kazrack walked back over and touched the door.  It swung open of its own accord.

“Did you ever hear of the King’s Bank in Neergaard?” Gunthar asked Kazrack.  The dwarf sneered, and Ratchis made the blonde warrior take up the rear.

Kazrack led the way down a narrow corridor no more than six feet high.  Ratchis, Beorth and Martin had to crouch as they followed. It was a gentle slope downward of about sixty feet ending in another door much like the first.

“This one detects as moderately magical,” Martin observed.

Ratchis cast a spell upon Kazrack that would protect the dwarf from electricity, and speaking the dwarven words for a combination of the four elements, the dwarf pushed open the door.  It swung open without incident.

Beyond was another huge room, though this one had a much lower ceiling that the temple proper and it was circular.  All about the room were metal shutters, most of which were shut, but a few were partially open, or even open all the way, and from within shone a bright light as if the sun were on all side of these strange arched windows. 

Kazrack noticed a round depression in the center of the floor, and approached it carefully.  He could see that the beams of light all seemed to point towards it, but were unfocused by the time they reached it.  What he saw within the depression was a huge map of Derome-Delem.  It was incredibly detailed despite the scope of its scale.   Suspended over the depression was a metal beam that was attached to slats on a rail around the map. It appeared to be made to turn the beam around the circle.  In the center there seemed to be some kind of platform.

“Something sparkles,” Debo’s voice said, and Kazrack turned to look.  On one side was a pile of ruby chips several inches deep.

“Nuh-uh tchruch uhnee-eng!” Kazrack commanded.   Everyone seemed to know what he meant.   A stout figure stepped out of the shadows between two of the shutters on the right.  As he came into the light they could all see that he was very very old and frail, and his skin was so fragilely draped on his bones that he seemed dead, and his beard was so thin Kazrack pitied him.

“Finally…” the venerable dwarf coughed out as he approached., and got down on one knee before Kazrack, and bowed his head. He wore a suit of fine chainmail and had a battle axe on his shoulder.  “I have waited long even for our race.”

“What have you been waiting for?” Kazrack managed to mumble out in his native tongue.

“I have been waiting for you,” the ancient dwarf croaked.

“And what will you do now?” Kazrack followed up, finding that if he spoke very slowly it was easier for others to understand him.

“How should I know?  You are the one seeking knowledge,” the dwarf replied a bit of surliness entering his creaking voice.  The dwarf stood again.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Kazrack asked, uncertain of how to proceed.

“No, but by coming here you have fulfilled my reason for being,” the sentinel said.

“Martin, do you think he is undead?”  Ratchis whispered to the watch-mage leaning in close as to not be overheard by Beorth.

The watch-mage shrugged his shoulders.

“Master, how may I address you?” Kazrack asked, cautious of dwarven etiquette. 

“You may call me the Keeper of the Map- Room,” the dwarf replied.  “My old name is unimportant. Will you use the map?”

“If I may, my companions and I seek the location of Hurgun’s Maze,” the last word was in common and the old dwarf’s face crinkled as if he did not understand.  “How can this be determined?  I had thought this place would simply hold a map demarking the Maze.”

“No, I know not of the location of this ‘Maze’ you speak of, except some foggy legends,” the dwarf explained.  “But this map was designed to hide and to show many of the secret places of the dwarven people, and the locations of other people and places and objects important to us whether they be friend or enemy.”

The Keeper went on to point out that above each of the metal shutters hold back the light from the nearly horizontal shaft beyond was carved a dwarven rune.  There was one for each of the 29 basic runic characters of the Xoth (5).  The ruby chips on the other hand, each was carved with one of 25 modern dwarven runic characters, plus several of the picot-runes that vary by locality that represent some common or important words in and of themselves.

All Kazrack need do if he wanted to find a location on the map was spell the name in ancient dwarven, both by closing all the other shutters but those with corresponding runes in the name, and then spell it in modern dwarven with the ruby chips, setting them in proper order on the overhanging platform at the center of the beam, and then use the numerological total (6) of the name in the ancient language to know where to set he beam, as the track had engraved numbers at varying intervals along the circle. 

It was then that Kazrack realized that it was not speaking the name of Hurgun’s Maze as he opened the door that protected him from the magical ward on the door to this chamber, rather that it was needed to make the map work.
The Keeper went on to explain that the scale of the map was such that finding precise points could still be difficult as areas may have changed in appearance over time and the former masters of this place knew locations by visual clues tied to knowing some of the areas fairly well.  He also said that the ambient light created by the beams could be used to determine if certain places could only be found in certain times of year.

Kazrack explained how it worked to the others, as he and the Keeper had only been speaking in dwarven.  With Martin’s aid, the dwarf was soon at a parchment with a quill to work out the translations.

“Can you spell out ‘best lay in Derome-Delem’?” Gunthar asked with a wide smile.

Kazrack leered at him.

‘Gunthar, shut up,” Ratchis warned.

“Feh… Like you aren’t curious.”

“I don’t think the map works like that,” Anarie said.

“Why not? It _is_ obviously a magical device and puzzle, so it may reveal more abstract things,” Martin pondered.

“Ya see?  Dough-boy wants to dip his wick into the best lay in this gods-forsaken place as much as I do.

“No!” Martin turned bright red.  “I meant, that it may reveal things in a less literal fashion, pointing out things we might describe more abstractly.”

“I doubt it,” Anarie said.  “There does not seem to be many spaces for the ruby chips on that beam, and from what I know dwarven is a verbose language.”

Kazrack grunted.

When Kazrack was ready he went over to the pile of ruby chips and one by one he held them up to the light to find the ones he needed.  Unfortunately, he could not seem to find one that corresponded with “air”.

After describing it to the others, soon everyone was helping him look through the seemingly endless little ruby chips. Now that they had to handle and examine each one they could tell how many there really were; hundreds, if not thousands.

“We use map to find great treasure,” Debo suggested.

“If we wanted to be self-serving,” Beorth replied. 

“Already are,” Debo countered.  “You put your quest before ours.”

“Yours is for personal gain, ours is for the good of Derome-Delem,” Beorth answered.

“If we wanted to be self-serving, we’d kill you now,” Kazrack said very very slowly to be sure he was understood, but without once ounce less of the venom he was spitting.

“Yes, if you want to be coward,” Debo replied.

“If you really want to be self-serving you can spell out, ‘Best lay in Derome-Delem’,” Gunthar offered with a laugh.

“I found it,” said Kismet who had been half-heartedly helping the search.  “But it seems to have a flaw in it.”

“Some of the other chips had marks inside of them,” Kazrack said.

“Yes, but this one looks more like a crack deep inside,” Kismet said, shrugging her shoulders.  She gave it to Kazrack to examine.  The dwarf sighed in frustration.

Martin tried to use his mending spell on the tiny ruby chip, and while part of the crack seemed to repair of it, there was still a discernible flaw.

Kazrack went about setting up the rubies and Beorth and Ratchis moved the beam at his direction.  He then went and made sure the runes he needed had their shutters open and all the others were closed.  

As soon as the last shutter was closed, the steel beam began to hum, and the lights converged on the ruby chips sending a red beam to shoot across the map.   However, the red light seemed disperse before striking anything significant.

“I need to try a different combination of runes that signify Hurgun’s Maze,” Kazrack said with great deliberation.

He changed the rubies about in a different order, and this time the red light stayed strong.

It seemed to hit the lip of what corresponded to the ridge around Greenreed Valley, and then was refracted and struck several places on the back side of the set of plateaus marked as ‘the Amphitheatre’ on their own map.

“Look!  We were right next to it all along,” Martin exclaimed.

“Yes, but which is it?” Beorth asked.

“Perhaps we can go there and search,” Anarie suggested.

“And have whoever it is who has been scrying on us know as soon as we find it?” Martin said glumly.  

“Wait!  Look at the light,” Ratchis said, creeping up to the map on his hands and knees.  “Look at how the red light comes in at that low angle.  If the red beam were the light of the sun sometime during the dawn and it was the first day of autumn, or so…”

No one seemed to get what he was saying.

“All we need do is go to the ridge itself, somewhere in that area and we should be able to see the sun come over the ridge and where it strikes must be the entrance to Hurgun’s Maze,” the half-orc continued.

“The autumnal equinox,” Martin muttered.

“Exactly,” said Ratchis, seeming satisfied.

“But that is months away,” Beorth said.

“We shall need to be patient, and it will give us time to find the spot, and perhaps to finally go to Nikar,” Ratchis said.

“Nikar? Why do you want to go all the way down there?” asked Gunthar.

“To get Beorth’s memory returned to him,” Ratchis replied.

“And to possibly send a message that would have a better chance of getting to the Academy, or local Academy alumni,” added Martin.

“Well, as long as it is not for my memory alone,” Beorth said. “I am willing to bear my curse longer if it will mean the lives of innocents.”

Ratchis rolled his eyes.  “We will have time.”

“So, is that all we are going to ask this map?” Martin asked.

“What else is there to ask it?”  Kazrack slurped awkwardly when he spoke, but at least he had learned the trick to being understood more times than not.

“Why not ask it the location of the first drow witch?” Ratchis suggested.  “The one in the body of the maid girl, uh… Rahasia.” (7)

“What is her name, again?” Martin asked.

“Solorena,” Anarie said, quietly.

“There ish no dwarven equivalent of that,” Kazrack pointed out, his bandage was staining with blood again, and Martin cringed to look at him.

“Uh… Try it phonetically,” Martin suggested, and then noting Kazrack’s puzzled look he added, “Sound it out.”

Kazrack shrugged his shoulders and tried a few combinations, but the red light either never materialized, or was too diffuse to point to anything.

“I guess only knowledge know to those that made this map can be discerned from it,” Martin surmised.

“What about Glamorganna’s lair?” Beorth suggested.

“The dragon?” Ratchis asked.

The paladin nodded.

“Dragon names are the same in all languages,” Anarie offered. “They are written either by specific sigils or phonetically.”

Martin frowned at the elven maid.

Kazrack gave it a try.  The red beam landed in a southwestern portion of at best guess was the Circle of Thorns. (8) 

*End of Session #62*

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

(1) Like in Session #38, Ratchis was drained of a level.  This time from touching the Book of Black Circles. 

(2) “Debo can only die of boredom,” the dwarf quipped.

(3) *DM’s Note:* From when the dream sequence ended until the end of this session Gunthar was played by Ken, who formerly played Jeremy.  The idea was for him to continue in the game playing Gunthar, but eventually time did not allow for him to come down for sessions.

(4) *DM’s Note:* This uses a turning attempt.

(5) _Xoth_ is the name of the ancient dwarven tongue and for all lore taught only in that language.

(6) The dwarven number system is based on the same runes used for writing, with the first letter being 1, etc…  This means all words in dwarven can be given a numeric value by adding the individual letters’ values.  Some dwarves use a rune based on an elven letter that represents zero, while others merely repeat the letter that equates to ‘O’ in common with a connecting line to represent a null set. 

(7) She escaped Aze-Nuquerna way back in Session #22

(8) See Sessions #30 thru #33


----------



## Manzanita

Wow.  That was cool.  I wish I could have seen it played.  What happened to the old dwarf?  or do we find out next time?  I'm curious if he were really still alive.  

I can't remember how they planned to get Beorth's memory back.

So did Ken play Gunthar this session or did Nemmerle?  His sense of humor seems unchanged


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> Wow.  That was cool.  I wish I could have seen it played.  What happened to the old dwarf?  or do we find out next time?  I'm curious if he were really still alive.




His fate will be revealed next installment



			
				Manzanita said:
			
		

> I can't remember how they planned to get Beorth's memory back.




They hope a high level priest of Isis in Nikar would be able to do it.



			
				Manzanita said:
			
		

> So did Ken play Gunthar this session or did Nemmerle?  His sense of humor seems unchanged




Yes he did.  But why would he change the demeanor of the character if he played him?  Even if he took over playing the role Gunthar would have to remain consistant. 

As it was, Ken could not continue to come down so after this session any more Gunthar is all me. . .   As was any before this session


----------



## Ciaran

nemmerle said:
			
		

> As it was, Ken could not continue to come down so after this session any more Gunthar is all me. . .   As was any before this session



Actually, I think I got to play Gunthar during a few combats.    

- Eric (aka Martin the Green)


----------



## Manzanita

I wasn't saying Gunthar's character should change much, but he's got quite a sense of humor.  Not everyone could play such a character.


----------



## el-remmen

Ciaran said:
			
		

> Actually, I think I got to play Gunthar during a few combats.
> 
> - Eric (aka Martin the Green)




Yeah, but not for another session or two. . . When you guys fought the hellhounds (oops! spoiler!) I know that was definitely you play Gunthar, as Martin cringed behind some shrubs. . . .


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> I wasn't saying Gunthar's character should change much, but he's got quite a sense of humor.  Not everyone could play such a character.




Yeah, it would have been hard for him to maintain, but he would have done it well enough, or if not role-played a believable softening of the character.

As it is, I am glad he is an NPC so I can toss him aside when I need to, because it does take (even me) a lot of energy to remain that obnoxious for that long. . . .


----------



## Elrik_DarkFury

I wasn't around for some time but i returned a week ago,and one of the first things i did, was to finish this excellent story hour. 

Keep up the good work and give us more as soon as possible.

Also,
I started a new game with my friends a week ago and tried to implement many of your great ideas.
The style of my game has changed a lot.
-A story of considerably greater depth
-Detailed-realistic setting
-Memorable npc's,locations
-A lot of downtime for players to develop their characters etc..

Needless to say they all loved it and we can't wait to play again.
Thanx a lot  !
_________________
The Wizard


----------



## el-remmen

Elrik_DarkFury said:
			
		

> I started a new game with my friends a week ago and tried to implement many of your great ideas.
> The style of my game has changed a lot.
> -A story of considerably greater depth
> -Detailed-realistic setting
> -Memorable npc's,locations
> -A lot of downtime for players to develop their characters etc..
> 
> Needless to say they all loved it and we can't wait to play again.
> Thanx a lot  !




You're welcome!  Glad I can help. . .


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #63*

“There is another way out of here,” the Keeper said to Kazrack.  “But it can only be opened from this side.  Once you have gone through you cannot return the same way.”

Kazrack conveyed this to the others.

“Debo say take secret way!” Debo said.

“Zank you fur yer dawts,” Kazrack grunted out quickly. “If they can be called such.”

“Let’s go back to the other chamber and rest and re-group and decide which way to go, and then go in the morning,” Ratchis suggested.  “Or what we hope is morning.”

Back at their camp, Kazrack said he wanted to spend the time to clear this entire complex out, and prepare it for re-habitation.  The others disagreed, bringing up the danger of the place and the pressure of time.

“Zell, if ve ur going tuh go anywhere, let’s go where my jaw cun beh healed,” Kazrack said.

“Our choices seem to be limited,” Beorth said.

“Well, it seems like our choices are either Nikar or Abarrane-Abaruch,” Martin pointed out.

“Zuh ulfs?” Kazrack asked.

“Elves?” Martin guessed, and the dwarf nodded.

“I doubt Ethiel, or the other elves of Aze-Nuquerna have the means to repair your jaw,” Anarie said.

“Is there a library in Nikar?” Beorth asked.

“I think there is a temple of Thoth,” Martin said. (1)

“There is no temple of Thoth in Nikar,” Ratchis said.

“Oh,” was all Martin could reply.

“And what of Hamfast?” Beorth asked.  “Do we leave him here to find his way back, or bring him with us through the one-way exit?”

“I don’t care what happens to him,” Ratchis grunted.  “Every time we have let these monks go it has tasted worst to me than the last.”

“Uh zay we let him live wit’ food and uh potion,” Kazrack managed to get out. “To show we have given kindness and mercy.”

“Since when have these monks ever cared when we showed them mercy?” Ratchis fumed.

“If out of a hundred…” Kazrack began.

“Debo don’t understand!  Why not kill monk.  He an enemy!” the barbarian’s anger grew with his puzzlement.

It was agreed to let the matter sit until after the group had rested.  In the meantime, Beorth spent his time trying to convince Kismet to part with one of her _water-breathing_ potions for the monk; at least until Anarie pointed out that the magical potions that had been found among the monks’ things probably had the same effect.

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

Later in what felt like night, as Martin and Kazrack took watch, the Academy Wizard went off on a long detailed explanation of all the resources they might find if they took the time to go to Nikar, and how helpful it would be to their cause.

“Uh-huh,” was all Kazrack replied, seeming bored of the talk. Or perhaps, his shattered jaw was hurting him too much to answer.

“My all accounts Hurgun’s Maze is going to be a grave danger, and heavily protected and guarded with powerful wards and who knows what else,” Martin began on a different tack.  “We will need more and newer gear, and perhaps access to some magics that Anarie and I do not have, and perhaps we may want to consider hiring a sellsword or two…”

“Uh-huh,” Kazrack nodded.  “We’ll discuss it with the others in the morning.”

“But Kazrack, ultimately it is you who must make this decision,” Martin replied, and Kazrack’s face took on a puzzled visage.  “We do not  have the funds to get these thing, but since you are the new keeper of this place, perhaps there are some treasures to be taken from here to help pay for them, you know, for the greater good.”

Kazrack was furious and would hear nothing more on the matter.  He did not speak again to the watch-mage even after receiving an apology.


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

“Does anyone know what day it is?” Martin asked.  “I have lost track.”

He was packing away his journal after making some notes in it, as everyone else broke down camp and prepared to leave.

“The 22nd?”  Anarie guessed.  “I often forget to keep track of days.”

“It is late spring,” Ratchis offered.  “Summer will be here soon, perfect for our march to Nikar.”

“But we sill have sufficient time before the equinox, correct?” Beorth asked.

“Months,” said Ratchis.  “A little more than three, to be precise.”

“Ze cun find out whun we get back to Shummit,” Kazrack had to suck back his saliva every five or six words to keep from bloody drool pouring out of his mouth.

“Summit?” Ratchis asked.  “Why do we need to go there? We are just more likely to get embroiled in something else that will keep us from getting to Nikar at all.  Better we head straight for the town and then come back in time to find where the beam will hit, but keep a low profile.”

“But we may need to see what is going on, what if the gnomes are in trouble?” Beorth asked.

“That is exactly what we need to avoid,” Ratchis said. “This has become bigger than just the gnomes.  I said before and I’ll say it again, if I have to choose between the gnomes and the humans, than my loyalty is with the gnomes first, but the truth is Mozek and his mother and what they can do with Hurgun’s Maze endangers everyone.  We cannot afford to be sucked into some other conflict, perhaps killed or captured and then fail to be there when the beam hits and it is time to go into the Maze.”

Kismet began to softly weep.

“I need to at least return to Aze-Nuquerna to let Ethiel know where I have gone,” Anarie said.

“And while we are there I can see if they have more specific maps of the area to and around Nikar,” Martin suggested.

“Also, I think such moral gymnastics to avoid making the choice dictated by our scruples is a treacherous endeavor,” Beorth said, and then he moved to comfort Kismet and get her going. 

The Fearless Manticore Killers and company, made their way back into the map room, and the Keeper brought Kazrack over to what appeared to be one of the huge rounded stones that made the room.  Touching it gently and speaking a word in dwarven, the huge stone slid backward revealing a very narrow passageway to a spiral stairway.

“Up this way,” the Keeper croaked. “It will close behind you, and you must hurry.  Anyone trapped in the stairway will be crushed.  It also acts as one of the gears that moves the stone.”

“Master, I thank you for your unfailing loyalty to our people,” Kazrack told the venerable dwarven guardian.  “What will you do now?”

“Once you have gone, I can lay down and crumble to dust,” the dwarf said.  “I have fulfilled my duty. This place is now yours to look after.”

Kazrack bowed.

“I shall return,” he intoned, his dignity just slightly undermined by his drooling shattered lower face.

Kazrack stopped long enough to take the one of the ruby chips that they had needed to find the location of Hurgun’s Maze, to insure that even if someone made it here, they would be hard pressed to replicate what they had done.  And then he led the others up the dark narrow stair.

Anarie spoke an arcane word and soon a ball of light that illuminated the area like a torch was following her, and then she followed Beorth, who followed Kismet and Martin.   Ratchis took up the rear to insure that no one tried to get out with any other treasures.

At the top of the stairway was a small room, as the last of them came through, the opening they came through was sealed off by a rotating stone statue of Lehrothronar.  There appeared to be no way of opening it from this side, and the addition of spots for prayer stones and low stone benches, made this tiny alcove seem more like a place for prayer than a secret entrance.

And so they began the long slow march up the narrow and low-ceilinged passageway, that had its constant slow grade only interrupted by occasional staircases of ten or fifteen steps.

The long dark march was so long, eventually Anarie’s spell ran out, and the group marched on in the dark leading each other along for a while, until Debo complained of the dark after tripping on Kismet.

Anarie cast the spell again, and they found themselves in a damp room with stone benches, and a twisted and rusted weapons rack.  The skeletal corpses of two armored dwarves were found in a stagnant puddle.  They were too far gone to determine what had killed them, but there was not evidence of arrows or weapons left behind, except their own rusted axes and ruined crossbows.

“Dwarf, you’re telling me this place is long enough to need a rest stop?” Gunthar complained. “Do we even know where this place lets out?”

Kazrack moved the two bodies, with Beorth’s help, and said a prayer over them, and covered them over with stone to create a makeshift cairn.

After eating some rations they moved on, until nearly an hour later they came to what appeared to be a dead end.   However, there were very narrow slits in the thick stone wall that let in dying light.

A quick search revealed the hand and eye of Lehronronar carved onto one wall.  Kazrack focused the divine power of his gods into the symbol and a secret door swung open onto a three foot wide ledge, high up on a canyon wall.

“Why in the Hells would they build a door up here?” Gunthar said, when the cold wind whipped into the tunnel.

“The geography was probably very different before the earthquake,” Beorth reasoned.

“Wait here,” Ratchis said, and he climbed out on to the ledge.  It was a narrow ravine that he thought he remembered from his reconnaissance of the area from above with the aid of Martin’s spell of levitation. (2)

They were about 80 to 100 feet up from the trickle of stream that ran below.  It was only forty feet to the plateau above.

Martin cast levitation on Ratchis and he was sent up to check the plateau above and to see if there was a safe way to get everyone up and out of the area from there without having to do too much more climbing.

Less than twenty minutes later, Ratchis was back to describe what he had seen.

“This ravine runs just about north-south,” he explained.  “We only have a few hours light, so I recommend we use this spell to get everyone up top.  The ravine will be too dangerous in the dark, and this upper way leads to the southern tip of the woods near the elves and Ogre’s Bluff.  One thing though, I saw the silhouette of a large winged figure to the east. It was a shadow on a cloud. I am not sure what it was.”

“The wyvern! The wyvern is bad!  It’ll kill us all.  It killed Creedadal,” Kismet was hysterical.

“It was far away, and I hope that we will be even further away before sundown.” Ratchis said.

It was agreed.  Martin would use levitation allow Ratchis to ferry people from the opening up to the plateau top.  Kazrack was first. The dwarf straddled the half-orc from the front, and Ratchis held him in place with one strong arm.

“Ha! Ha! Stonefolk humps him like dog!”  Debo guffawed.

“Why do you have to carry up this way?” Kazrack asked slowly, letting go to wipe the drool soaking his mangled beard.

“Because it is safest,” Ratchis replied.  “I can hold on to you with one hand, while I use the other to pull us over at the top.”

“I would have preferred the extra level of danger,” the dwarf said, embarrassedly; Gunthar and Debo’s mocking laughter echoed up after them.

The barbarian refused to be carried, and climbed unaided to the top of the plateau.

Eventually, all were at the top.  It was broken plateau at the edge of all the broken lands and ravines that surrounded the area around the Pit of Bones, that connected at a narrow point with the huge forested ridge that held Aze-Nuquerna and Ogre’s Bluff in the north where it met Greenreed Valley, to the southern edge where the party came across the stone giant homestead. (3)  It was covered now with brown and green fuzz that seemed to be ready to bloom into life.

It was a long march to the forest’s edge, and they barely found a secure place to camp before night fell.

As they ate from their meager rations, Kazrack once again brought up the subject of going to Nikar, and Ratchis immediately called for a vote.  Kazrack only agreed to come along if the majority were for going.

“But don’t you want your jaw repaired?” asked Ratchis.

“Yes, but that can be done in Abarrane-Abaruch, or it can simply wait,” Kazrack said, enunciating each word carefully.  “My gods have seen fit to inflict me with such a burden, just like past burdens and if I must be inconvenienced so that others may live and be free, so be it.”

“But Kazrack, you can hardly cast spells!” Ratchis argued.

The dwarf shrugged his shoulders.

Martin and Beorth both voted for Nikar, while Anarie abstained.  

“I’ll go to Nikar!” Gunthar said.

“Debo with Gunthar!” Debo complained.  “We made plan!”

“Easy there you strained turd,” Gunthar answered.  “The plan will still go off. You go and watch over the _you know what_, make sure it is still there and do your part of the plan, I’ll help them get to Nikar, and in return they’ll help me get my brother back when the time comes. Right?”

He looked to the Fearless Manticore Killers.  They all ignored him.

“I say we go to Nikar,” Ratchis said.

“So, I am overruled,” Kazrack replied.  “But I still say we go to the elfin compound to see what we might learn.

Anarie nodded, and the others compromised.  

Watches were set and in the dark of night, Martin, Debo and Gunthar were stuck with the middle watch.  Gunthar soon found a comfy spot under a tree and went to sleep. Debo went stalking off.

Late into the watch Martin heard something at the edge of camp, and he hurried over to grab a brand from the fire and see what it was.

There was a small figure in brush.

“Who’s there?  Come out!” Martin hissed, unsure of himself.

It was Kismet.

“Kismet!  Are you leaving us?”

“I…uh, was just going to relieve myself in private,” she feigned exasperation and rolled her eyes. 

“With all your gear and your pack?” Martin put a hand on his hip.  “You shouldn’t leave everyone without saying good-bye.  That’s not right… At least come and visit the elves with us.”

“Oh… Okay,” Kismet walked back over to camp and plopped down.  She did not bother to remove her pack, but sat there sulking through the night.


Isilem, the 23rd of Sek – 565 H.E.

Morning greeted the party with a cold light rain.

“This is late spring?” Martin complained.

“Is it different other places?” Ratchis asked. “Because this what it is always like in Derome-Delem.”

Martin the Green was in no mood to discuss the weather any further.

They marched north by northeast in a moody silence only punctuated by Kismet’s fits of sobbing, and Ratchis barking orders.   The thick band of woods gave way to sparser area with muddy soil. The trees here were younger and thinner than in other parts of the forest, and many were broken or uprooted, and leaves, still green, scattered across the ground made slippery patches hard to notice. 

After an hour of this, they came to a river that gave them all pause.

“I don’t remember a river,” said Beorth.

“From what I hear, you don’t remember a lot of things,” Gunthar laughed.

“We came out further west than I first thought,” Ratchis said.  Martin had pulled out one of his maps nodding as if he agreed.  “And we did cross this before, except that before it was a stream, and from what I can tell it has rained a lot while we were gone, and that with the melting snow from north of us turned it into this.”

As if in answer, the river gurgled, as white water rolled over stones and fallen trees roaring down a broad divot.

It amazed them that a river had sprung up seemingly overnight.  Ratchis, unphased by the abrupt changes possible in nature, stripped off his armor and dropped all his gear but a rope.  He then swum across the strong current and fastened the rope to a tree on one side, and then braved his way back across with one end of the rope.

After fastening the end on this side of the river, and Martin cast ing_levitation_ on him, Ratchis then used himself as a human bridge, to pull his weightless self across the river while carrying various members of the party.

Debo grunted and threw his pack across the river with a running two-handed throw, and then leapt into the water, deftly swimming across.

Ratchis brought Kazrack across first, followed by Anarie, and then followed by Kismet and then Martin. The half-orc came back to get Beorth, but the paladin demurred.

“Take the gear and my armor, if you will” he said.  “But I shall swim across of my own volition.” 

“You may drown,” Ratchis said.

“I will not,” Beorth said. “If you will bring my gear across.”

Ratchis acquiesced. 

Gunthar leapt laughing into the river, after having added his gear to the pile Ratchis was bringing across. He only wore his short sword about his neck.

Cutting across the rough water, shirtless, with his long blonde hair pulled taut across his back in the strong current, Ratchis could imagine Jeremy being the one swimming.   But suddenly, the figure disappeared, and then cursing and coughing Gunthar broke the surface, waving his arms wildly, before being turned over twice by the river and washed way down stream.

“That could have been you,” Ratchis said to Beorth.

“Yes, but it wasn’t,” the paladin replied.  “You had better save him. I shall be endeavoring to cross the river myself.”

Scowling, Ratchis dropped the gear and dove into the river after Gunthar, but after a rough going, he found Gunthar had managed to pull himself onto the other side a few dozen yards further down stream.  He was sitting coughing and cursing.

Still scowling, he made his way to the west side of the river and walked up to get the gear.  By then, Beorth had already made it across.

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

It was late into the evening when Fearless Manticore Killers finally came within site of the fortress of wood and upon the base of stone that was Aze-Nuquerna.  Lucky for them, the light grew longer and longer as summer approached.

“Debo hate elf-men!” Debo complained.

“Debo, it is an ass-lickin’ elf place!” Gunthar tried to convince him by dubious means.  “It is bound to be warm, and comfortable, and _elves_… You know!”

“Debo hate elf-men,” Debo said again.  “Debo go to town, come back in two nights.”

With that, the barbarian took off for Ogre’s Bluff.

“Well, it was probably better the dumb bloated ballsack didn’t come anyway,” Gunthar said, shoving his hand into his pants to readjust himself.  “He’d probably do something to embarrass us anyway.”

AS they came near the last great clearing before the elfin compound, there was a scuffle in the underbrush accompanied by barking, and a small dark form bounded out of the shadows at Ratchis.  The half-orc dropper his hammer and grabbed up the brown and black mutt, which went crazy yipping and licking and nipping at him happily.

“Is that his girlfriend or his mother?” Gunthar snickered, and Ratchis shot him a nasty look.

“That is Kwa,” said Anarie.

A humanoid figure stepped out of the shadows as well, a tall blonde elf in studded leather armor. He wore a dagger and a quiver, there was an unstrung longbow leaning on his shoulder.  

“Greetings Friends!” the mellifluous voice issued from the elven man like a song.

“Greeting Finduilas,” Anarie said coming over for a chaste hug. Both of the elves eyes seemed to shine when they spoke to each other.

“Greezings Finfushfeeshphush,” Kazrack drooled.

“I see Valto has found you,” Finduilas said to Ratchis, and noting the half-orc’s confused look. “We call him the elvish word for ‘luck’ or ‘chance’.  Is that not what the name you gives him means?”

Ratchis nodded, and Martin gave him a solemn look. (4)

Finduilas led them into Aze-Nuquerna where Ethiel greeted them with might pass for happiness.

“Well met,” the elder elf said.  “It is good to have so diligent a group return.”

“She are pleeshed tuh be her,” Kazrack replied.

“You are always welcome,” Ethiel said with a smile.

They were brought to a common area where they had taken their meals and rested in the past.  The elves brought them a warm mushroom soup with a sweet rose-petal bread to shake off the wet and cold.

Anarie introduced Kismet to Ethiel and some of the other elves, but the gnome woman barely said a word – whether it was from awe of meeting elves or the horrors she had endured was uncertain.

Gunthar was indeed dumb-founded by the place and the elves, and for once in his life was quiet, except when after dinner he blurted out to Finduilas, “Are you a boy-elf or a girl-elf?” 

The elf warrior did not reply, but sneered.

“It’s hair was prettier than this one’s,” Gunthar said, pointing to Anarie.

Kazrack and Ratchis both glared at the Neergaardian.

They were brought to rooms to sleep the night.  In the morning there would be much to discuss.


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

(1)	Thoth is the god of knowledge and wizardry, and his temples are always libraries.

(2)	See Session #53

(3)	See Session #51

(4) ‘Kwa’, the orcish word of luck or chance, was the name Ratchis gave the stray dog in honor of the party’s former companion, Chance (see session #20)


----------



## Elrik_DarkFury

Hey!
This is merely an appetizer.
And we starve for more!!!  

Also, looking forward to see martin getting new spells from anaries spellbook(as you may understand i favor wizards a tiny bit).
Good job and waiting to see more -maybe a city adventure or at least kazracks jaw repaired   

___________________
The Wizard


----------



## el-remmen

nemmerle said:
			
		

> As it was, Ken could not continue to come down so after this session any more Gunthar is all me. . .   As was any before this session




I was wrong.

Looking over my notes, I realized and remembered that Ken played Gunthar for two more sessions before dropping out for good.

Session #63 was his last session with us. . .


----------



## Manzanita

I must admit, I'm a bit lost on the geography, but I enjoyed the update.  They made some progress there, and I'm oh-so curious about what is going to happen...


----------



## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> I must admit, I'm a bit lost on the geography




Anything I can clear up?


----------



## el-remmen

Hey in celebration of hitting 10,000 views let's do another lurker/reader role call. . . 

Feel free to pimp your own story hour (if you have one) while you are at it, and let's see. . .  favorite moment from the Pit of Bones (let's say from when they leave the giants to the last entry).

I know what mine is. . .


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

If my memory serves me correctly, the escape from the pit of bones was harrowing.  My favorite image, encounter, moment, was loooking down into the pit of undead babies.  It was horrid.

GW


----------



## el-remmen

Graywolf-ELM said:
			
		

> If my memory serves me correctly, the escape from the pit of bones was harrowing.  My favorite image, encounter, moment, was loooking down into the pit of undead babies.  It was horrid.
> 
> GW




You are thinking of the escape from the Necropolis of Doom. . .


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

nemmerle said:
			
		

> You are thinking of the escape from the Necropolis of Doom. . .




Yes dangit, now I have to re-read some of this to remember which part of the story was which you evil one.

GW


----------



## Dr. NRG

nemmerle said:
			
		

> Hey in celebration of hitting 10,000 views let's do another lurker/reader role call. . .
> 
> Feel free to pimp your own story hour (if you have one) while you are at it, and let's see. . .  favorite moment from the Pit of Bones (let's say from when they leave the giants to the last entry).
> 
> I know what mine is. . .




Heya, new reader here.  You picked me up with the story hour sampler thingie you did recently.  What a great idea!  Without an intro like that, picking a 20-page story hour can be pretty intimidating.  

As for a favorite moment, I really liked the 3-way confrontation between the Gunthar party, the skrag, and the FMK.  There were some interesting inter-group dynamics there, and in the following scenes.  

NRG


----------



## handforged

I'm still here, Nemm, just less time online, so less replies.  Still love the story.  Favorite part, was when Kazrack finally got the dog to leave him alone.  I was so relieved.

~hf


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Doh, I am shamed.  if it were a snake it would have bit me.  You mean this time at the pit of bones(Not when the paladin came here by himself the first time), and I have to say the encounter with the Scrag is my favorite as well.

GW


----------



## Manzanita

I'm chewing on that 'favorite part' thing.  What was the 'scrag'?  Is that the Dragon Disciple?  (Is that what he is?)  Or do you mean the troll barbarian?

I think 3 way battle somewhat understates it, either way, since the gnomes are something of a 4th force, not completely aligned with the FMK.  

I do think that has been my favorite part.  Nemmerle constantly inspires me to be a better DM.  His bold inclusion of numerous NPCs with cross-purposes and distinct personalities really has enhanced the game.  It would be tough to run a sesson, or a battle with so many NPCs.

I liked the underwater passage.  I liked how Kazrack got to be important, too.  A dwarven cleric fulfilling a long-awaited role.  Could the party even have succeeded here without him?  Did you customize the encounter somewhat, knowing you'd have a dwarven cleric in the crew?  Or are you going to tell me you already had this mapped out years earlier before you know who your PCs were?


----------



## el-remmen

the doctor said:
			
		

> Heya, new reader here. You picked me up with the story hour sampler thingie you did recently. What a great idea! Without an intro like that, picking a 20-page story hour can be pretty intimidating.




Welcome aboard, Doc!  

Glad yer enjoying. . . 

So did you start from the very beginning of Book I, or did you just start with this "Necropolis of Doom" thread?  



			
				manzanita said:
			
		

> What was the 'scrag'? Is that the Dragon Disciple? (Is that what he is?) Or do you mean the troll barbarian?




A scrag is an aquatic troll - that is what the troll barbarian was.




			
				manzanita said:
			
		

> I do think that has been my favorite part. Nemmerle constantly inspires me to be a better DM. His bold inclusion of numerous NPCs with cross-purposes and distinct personalities really has enhanced the game. It would be tough to run a sesson, or a battle with so many NPCs.




It can be tough to do, but over the years I have come up with a number of tricks for handling this kind of thing, and making sure it does not bog the game down.




			
				manzanita said:
			
		

> Could the party even have succeeded here without him? Did you customize the encounter somewhat, knowing you'd have a dwarven cleric in the crew? Or are you going to tell me you already had this mapped out years earlier before you know who your PCs were?




It would have been nigh impossible to figure it out without a dwarven priest there - but as usual I had back up plans for how the party might find out where the Maze was - but in typical nemmerlesque style, the other methods might have been more difficult and/or distasteful. 

As for how long it was planned out. . . I knew about the Pit of Bones and had prepared it for nearly a year before it was played - If Kazrack had not been around - I don't know how I would have handled it. . . But the map-room was definitely created with him in mind. . .  I always try to give each PC a chance to shine and do their thing as a campaign goes on (though sometimes it feels like the effort to do that is unappreciated).

A good example of this was the tasks for Osiris.  Kazrack had to forge something (a way for him to get to use all the skill points he dumped into craft), Ratchis had to hunt something down (mister ranger gets to do this thing), Jana was going to get a chance to learn a bunch of new spells from a "good" source, but with the responsibilties that come with that (thus allowing her the opportunity to fulfill the "arc" of her character we had discussed at the beginning) and Martin (whose player never gave me a background. . . .grrrrrr!) got a chance to deal with a powerful and ancient enemy of his order. . .


----------



## Dr. NRG

nemmerle said:
			
		

> Welcome aboard, Doc!
> 
> Glad yer enjoying. . .
> 
> So did you start from the very beginning of Book I, or did you just start with this "Necropolis of Doom" thread?




I've just read the Necropolis of Doom so far, but may find myself inspired to go back and read the others as well.  

NRG


----------



## el-remmen

Dr. NRG said:
			
		

> I've just read the Necropolis of Doom so far, but may find myself inspired to go back and read the others as well.
> 
> NRG




If interested, I am doing a reprise of the entire in installments I put up three times a week here.

The Prelude (what is called "Book I" here) is almost done (one more installment to go) and then I will be starting on the next part.


----------



## Ciaran

nemmerle said:
			
		

> and Martin (whose player never gave me a background. . . .grrrrrr!) got a chance to deal with a powerful and ancient enemy of his order. . .



Eh?  I'm sure I gave you a background write-up...


----------



## Scider

Mooooooooooooooooooooore! *insane giggle*

This is ultimately my favorite SH


----------



## Dawn

It has taken me a while, but I'm back.  Glad to see you're posting the original work somewhere because I have a lot to catch up on!
Keep it coming!


----------



## Dr. NRG

nemmerle said:
			
		

> If interested, I am doing a reprise of the entire in installments I put up three times a week here.
> 
> The Prelude (what is called "Book I" here) is almost done (one more installment to go) and then I will be starting on the next part.




Many happy hours of reading later, I'm all caught up.  

Keep up the good work Fearless (at least the second time around) Manticore Killers.    

Btw, Ciaran, I, too am a recovering powergamer.  It's not easy, but it's satisfying to successfully stay away from the RPG crack that is power!  You've done a great job, from what I can tell from the story hours.  I never would've guessed without your admission.

NRG


----------



## el-remmen

Well, just to keep you all in the loop. . .  With the holidays here and all it is going to be a little while before I get to do some serious work on the next installment. . I thought I'd have it done by now - but having to wipe my HD clean and slowly re-building my machine has taken a lot of time, and then I was sick, and work has been really busy - oh, and I do have a social life. . .    

NRG: Where'd you get the idea Cairan was a power-gamer?  (Oh and any new favorite parts now that you've read the whole thing?)

Dawn: Welcome Back! You were missed. . .


----------



## Dawn

Thanks and glad to be back, Nem.  My own "real world" has kept me from both the Story Hour and my own campaigns.  Getting ready to restart and upgrade from v3 to v3.5.


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #63 (part ii)*

Osilem, the 24rd of Sek – 565 H.E.

The next day Ethiel came to the party early in the morning, and noting Kismet’s deep sadness, he had one of the elves bring her somewhere where she could take a warm relaxing bath in some elven herbs that might help soothe her trauma.

Beorth and Martin took turns explaining all that had happened at the Pit of Bones, with Ratchis and Kazrack interjecting their own opinions on things occasionally.

By the time they were done it was time for lunch, and afterwards, Martin was escorted to the library chamber below so that he might copy a more detailed map that might show a good route to Nikar.  Beorth went to aid him.  Ratchis, feeling much better, (1) spent the afternoon playing with Kwa and finding he was much better behaved than he used to be.  Kazrack continued to work on the stone pieces of the set of King’s Men he was making (2).  He tried to make one of the ‘priest’ pieces look like Belear.  Anarie spent the afternoon in closed chambers with Ethiel and Findulias discussing whatever news of elves they might have gained since they last saw her.

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

Late that night, after everyone had retired, Beorth awoke with a start.  He leapt from the bed, as there was the silhouette of a figure standing over him on the left,  fang-shaped green glow seemed to hover before the figure’s chest.

“Who is there?” the paladin said, grabbing his sword and lighting the lantern beside the bed. 

Martin was standing there fully dressed, the Book of Black Circles clutched to his chest.  The watch-mage’s eyes were wide open and unblinking.  The necklace of undead control that Beorth normally carried in his pack was around the watch-mage’s neck. (3)

“Martin!” Beorth called loudly, ripping the necklace from the watch-mage’s neck. Gunthar awoke in the other bed.

“Whut’s going on?” the blonde Neergaardian asked groggily.

“Huh?  Wha…?” Martin blinked and crumpled onto the bed, dropping the book.

“The Book seems to have made you walk in your sleep,” Beorth said. “It seems to be able to control you.”

”Oh no,” Martin moaned.  He sat up and buried his face in his hands.

“This tome is too dangerous to keep around,” Beorth said. “Perhaps we should wait no longer, and you should open it and use it right now and destroy it.”

“You might be right,” Martin replied. “But what if you are wrong and I am permanently corrupted by the book?”

“Then you will meet Osiris,” Beorth replied calmly, gesturing to his sword.  He turned to Gunthar.  “Go wake the others.  This must be taken care of now.”

Gunthar ran over to the next room and banged on the door until it opened.  Kazrack looked up at him angrily.  

“Baldie wants you and the Pig-f*cker,” he said by way of explanation.  “Now.”

Gunthar ran further down the hall to awaken Anarie.

“Bring your weapons and armor,” he told the elf maid.  “We may have to kill dough-boy.”

“Do not let them do anything rash,” Anarie said.  “I will go get Ethiel.”

Gunthar winked at her and ran back to the room to find the four heroes arguing, though Martin did so sullenly.

“We should deal with this right now,” Beorth said.  “He had taken the cursed necklace from my things.  This is getting too dangerous to let sit.”

“I fear Beorth might be right,” Martin said.

“Have you felt any more compulsion from Osiris as to do something in particular?” Ratchis asked.

“No, but…” He choked a moment. “We don’t know that that is what will happen.  I have the book now, maybe there will be no more compulsion because if I fail to destroy it I will die anyway.”

“I don’t think so,” said Ratchis.  “Kazrack and I both felt a compulsion that seemed to grow stronger or weaker depending on how far along we were in completing our task.  We have no reason to believe yours should be any different.”

“Why wait to be compelled?” Beorth asked with frustration.  “Would that not go against the tenets of your faith?  Would it not be better for him to do it freely now?”

“He took this oath on freely to begin with,” Ratchis said.  “Whatever comes of it now, he knew getting into this it would not be easy.”

“Uh ‘ill conshult uh wuneschtonesch n’ shee ish my gods uv any guidance for ush, even though this is a muhtter that originates with Oshirish,” Kazrack offered through the clenched fragments of his jaw.

“Patience is a good idea,” Ethiel’s smooth voice was from the doorway as he entered the room. “And at the very least, if you plan to use such a powerful artifact I ask that you do it far from here.  We are already charged with watching over one evil.  We need not tempt it with another.”

Beorth nodded.

Kazrack went back to his room to consult the dwarven rune-stones, and returned about twenty minutes later shaking his head.

Uh do nut think my wishdom was equal to tuh tashk,” he said his solemnity undone by his ridiculous way of speaking now.  “The runesh were vague, but there were definitely shignsh that we should prosheed with great cau-shin n’ peehapsh even timlinessh.”

“So that settles it for me,” Ratchis said.  “We wait.”

“So what now?  Am I to be bound to my bed each night to keep others safe?” Martin asked.

“Perhaps it is when you are sleeping that you are vulnerable, and you should keep the ring on and sleep as little as possible,” Ratchis suggested.  “ We can keep a watch on you for those two hours.”

Martin nodded.

“Un peehapss the amulet hash as much to blame, Beorsh,” Kazrack added.  “We should not keep two such curshed objectsh of power in such a clush proshimity.”

Beorth and Martin nodded.


Tholem, the 25rd of Sek – 565 H.E.

Next day after another elven breakfast that Kazrack sneered at, but ate anyway, the Fearless Manticore Killers packed their gear and made ready to head overland by foot to Nikar.  It would be a journey of several weeks, though with the map Martin had copied, Ratchis thought he could lead them there in as little as two; Bes be on their side.

Ethiel and all the other elves of Aze Nuquerna gathered at the door to the stone and wooden fortress to bid them a safe journey.  They provided them with what they could in way of supplies, but it was not quite enough.  It was decided that Gunthar and Anarie would make a quick journey to Ogre’s Bluff to get the rest of it, as no one would recognize them.  They would all march to within an hour of the town, and then the two of them would go the rest of the way on their own.

Ratchis confided in Martin that by sending the two newest members of the group he hoped that they would be less likely to hear some news that would delay them, as they would be less likely to recognize a name, or what have you.

Martin sighed, tired of moral acrobatics. 

However, they had not gotten far when they spotted Debo jogging towards them, his great sword on his shoulder, and his wolf’s head hood bouncing up and down on his back. The three of them walked to where the others were waiting.

“Time for plan?” Debo asked Gunthar.

“We went over this dog-breath,” Gunthar replied. 

“We need to go to dragon now,” Debo said.

“No, Debo, we have to hold off on that part of plan,” Gunthar said.  “We have other things t odo before we can do that.  Well, _I_ do anyway.”

”Where we going?”

“Nikar,” Ratchis answered.

“Where?”

“It is about a month to the southwest of here,” Ratchis said.

Debo hollered and threatened Gunthar.  But the Neergaardian would not give in.

His face a bright purple, finally Debo said, “Me go guard Kan-On then.”

“Sush!” Gunthar put a hand up to the barbarian’s mouth, and Debo bit at it fiercely and brought his sword off his shoulder.

Kazrack and Ratchis tensed to draw their weapons, but Gunthar put u pa hand.

“Guard the what?” Beorth asked.

Martin snickered.  “_That_ is your plan?  To use a cannon against the dragon?”

“What is a cannon?” asked Kazrack.

“It is a Kan-_On_,” Gunthar said.  “For someone who is supposed to be educated you sure do sound like an ass half the time.”

“It is a gnomish weapon of war that explosively launches heavy iron balls,” Martin explained.

“Ifish thish weapon ish sho fearshome how come we do not shee them more often?” Kazrack asked.  

“They are unreliable,” Martin said.  “You are as likely to blow up yourself as you are to fire it correctly.”

“Bah!” Gunthar said.  “Frederick said he knew of two distinct tales where Kan-Ons were used to fight a dragon, both leading to the dragon’s death… Well, at least gravely wounded, but with the dragon-slaying sword, it was supposed to make up the difference.  Thus the change in plan.”

“What is the plan now?” Ratchis asked.

“You guys are the plan,” Gunthar said.  “I help you do your things and maybe get my brother back and then you help me and Debo, and Rondar, if he ever shows his wart-covered ass again to slay the dragon, using the Kan-On.  If figure the pig-f*cker and stubby here won’t be needing any princesses, and though I have heard that elf women can marry in their culture, I try not to think about it too much  because it gets _hard_ to think about any thing but…”  

He winked at Anarie.  She made no response whatsoever.

“So even including Jeremy, we still have plenty of princesses,” Gunthar continued.  “Unless you count Baldie, and while I think he has balls, he must certainly pee sitting down.”

Beorth stiffened, but Ratchis put one of his huge hands against the paladin’s to gently hold him back and calm him down.

“You know, Gunthar,” Ratchis growled. “We invited you into our group and we can uninvite you.”

The blonde warrior turned back to the short dark barbarian.  “Yeah, that’s a good idea.  Take your wolf-skin to where the Kan-On is and guard it and see if Rondar shows up, and if you get hungry, eat him.”

“It is going to be a long time,” Ratchis said.  “Months.”

“Debo can’t die,” Debo said, and then without another word took off jogging to the northwest.

“Eh, waste of flesh,” Gunthar swore, as he and Anarie began their short trek to Ogre’s Bluff.

A little over and hour later Gunthar and Anarie were entering the town square of Ogre’s Bluff.  There was a large crowd gathered, and what was clearly a large gallows had been set up on the far end of the square.  There were so many people they would have had to force their way to the crowd to get up close and get a good view.

“What’s going on?” Gunthar asked a middle-aged pot-bellied man with wiry hair.

“Oh just some robber ‘ looters,” the man said.  “They was some of them there so-called ‘dragon-hinters’, but they gots ta ‘bey the law like anybody else. I say.”

“Sure. Sure,” Gunthar nodded.  “What’d they do?”

“Ida know, robbed or looted or sumthin’,” the man replied. 

Six men with sacks tied over their heads were led on to the gallows and each had a noose affixed about his neck.  Without so much as a word of ceremony, the platform was knocked out from under them and they began to jerk on the ropes.

Disgusted, Anarie stepped into Margun’s General Store.

“Wait, you’re gonna miss the best part when they s**t themselves right before the stop wrigglin’,” Gunthar teased. 

“It seems unfortunate that people hired to protect the land would turn against its people,” Anarie said, as she made her way through the packed shop, while patting the overenthusiastic golden dog that leapt at her happily.

“It happens,” Margun  replied, his eyes growing wide in awe of an elf in his shop.

“I have a list of things here I need to acquire,” Anarie said, and it was all business.

The two of them had been gone less than three hours when they finally returned, laden with goods.

Anarie mentioned the hanging.

“Good,” Kazrack said.

Ratchis threw his dwarven companion a disapproving look.

“Uht?  Ifish they were robbing ur looting they got what they desherve,” the dwarf reasoned.

“Could you tell who they were?” Ratchis asked.

The elf and the man both shook their heads.

“There is nothing to be done about it now,” Ratchis said. “Let’s go.”

“I hope they get a proper burial, whoever they are or whatever they did,” Beorth said.

And on they marched. 

The woods gave way to the river once again, but this time they were crossing it much further north where it crossed a narrow plain and was much shallower; crossing it was no problem.

Soon they were traveling among sparsely wooded hills, weaving about them at times, but occasionally Ratchis would lead them over one to get a good view of the lay of the land and compare it to Martin’s map.  Tall black mountains loomed like an impenetrable wall several days west of them.

The end of the day found them making camp at the top of a squat wooded hill that had reminded Martin of something like half-melted ziggurat that leaned over to one side, making northeast side slightly more steep than the rest.

Ratchis and Beorth watched first and then woke Kazrack and Gunthar to watch in the dead of night.   It was a cool night, and they had made a small fire, which Gunthar fed occasionally, while the dwarf marched around the camp.

Some hours into their watch a violent hoot echoed in the night.  Kazrack stopped in his tracks, while Gunthar leapt to his feet.

“Sounds familiar…” Gunthar began, when another echoing hoot cracked the night.  This time, closer.  

“It’s those sh*t-bears from the Honeycombe!” Gunthar hissed to Kazrack. (4) 

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

(1) *DM’s Note:* Ratchis made his secondary save for the energy drain caused by the Book of Black Circles the night before.

(2) _King’s Men_ is basically the Aquerra version of chess, though some of the pieces are named differently.

(3) The Fearless Manticore Killers found this on the care-taker of mortuary south of Stone Bridge, way back in Session #8

(4) Also known as ‘quaggoths’.  The second time the party ever met Gunthar’s Crew was in the network of caves beneath Ogre’s Bluff, called the Honeycombe (see Sessions #23 & 24).


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

nemmerle said:
			
		

> Anarie mentioned the hanging.
> 
> “Good,” Kazrack said.
> 
> Ratchis threw his dwarven companion a disapproving look.




Somehow this strikes me as friends of the party, who they will regret not going to town and saving.

GW


----------



## Manzanita

Gunther cracks me up, as usual.  Yes, I think we'll be hearing more about the hanging at some point.

Nice update, in any case.


----------



## Dr. NRG

nemmerle said:
			
		

> NRG: Where'd you get the idea Cairan was a power-gamer?  (Oh and any new favorite parts now that you've read the whole thing?)




Somewhere along the line, when explaining the way he plays Martin, he mentioned that he was recovering from that particular affliction.  I certainly never would've guessed it without his saying so.  

As for a favorite scene, I really liked the fairy circle.  It presented a whole host of confusing and ambiguous challenges -- the solutions to some of them conflicted with the solutions to others.  It was both nicely designed and nicely played. 

NRG


----------



## el-remmen

*Session #63 (part iii)*

Anarie’s reverie was very odd.  Instead of reliving the memories of her own life, the broken images, while still from her perspective seemed to be of someone else’s life.  She was marching through a dark place, all color washed out of it, except for the occasional gleam of mail from ahead of her.  She seemed to be marching with other elves.

Soon she found herself pool of clear water, kneeling to fill a black leathery skin.  As the bright moonlight glimmered on the surface and saw her reflection; hair white like silver; eyes, a steel shining gray, and skin like charred ebony.

“Be on the alert,” Anarié said, her unblinking eyes suddenly moving as she leapt to her feet.  “Wake up!  There are _novilustani_ around.  There are drow around!”

In a moment, all were awake. Ratchis prayed to Nephthys to increase his strength, while Martin cast _mage armor_ on Beorth, as there was no time to put on his splint mail.  Gunthar, a sword in one hand and a javelin in the other, jogged off into the darkness of the trees, as moonlight streamed into the clearing.

“Martin, if you could cast that _armor_ upon me as well, I would appreciate it,” Ratchis barked.

“There are three sh*t-bears coming around from the north,” Gunthar hissed.

“Remember, there are drow here as well,” Anarié said. “They are crafty opponents.”

“Everybody stay together.  Let them come to us,” Ratchis rousing his companions, as they all felt a fear creep over them.  There were no sounds of night birds or insects, and the breeze had fallen out of the trees, leaving only the sound of deep snarling ragged breaths syncopated by padded feet scrambling up over the rock, grunting as they pulled themselves from tree to tree. 

Those coming from the left hooted and this time the hoot was echoed by the sound of more far below on the right, at the bottom of the steep side of the hill.

“There!” Gunthar pointed to a dirty white shaggy form breaking through the trees with a javelin, as he prepared for an opportunity for a clear shot. 

With an arcane word, Ratchis was also the recipient of a protective spell as Beorth was, and a prayer from the Friar of Nephthys and the paladin, too did receive the strength of the bull.

Beorth moved to fill in the ring of heroes, as Martin ducked behind Kazrack.

“Huh-Hra!” Gunthar flung his javelin with all his might even as the shaggy first came into the dwarf’s view.  The javelin shattered one of the quaggoth’s ribs and there was an explosion of flesh and blood.  The bear-man tumbled to the ground. (1)

The next quaggoth to leap up to the top of the hill felt the bite of two of Anarie’s magic arrows of light.  It stumbled, but did not fall.

Beorth stepped to his left to block the path of another quaggoth who came leaping from the shadows. It slammed into him with great force, and Ratchis stepped forward to meet the first one and cleaved its head open with his great axe.  

The quaggoth Beorth fought felt the bite of the paladin’s sword, and it progress was stopped as it crouched back to snarl and circle him.  

Anarié spoke a word and soon her cloak was shining with the smoky light of a torch, and she hurried over towards the tree where Gunthar waited to spot any more that might be coming up.

The fight had moved away from the center of the camp, as Ratchis, Kazrack, Anarie and Gunthar formed a line that reached from the trees out to where the quaggoths might approach from.

Beorth, however, was slowly drawn away in the other direction by his foe as they continued to trade blows.

“Are you okay back there, Beorth?” Ratchis called to his compainion.  “Can you hear me back there?”

Three more came over the top of the hill and one ignored Ratchis to go for Kazrack to its error.  Noting the thing’s left flank was open, Ratchis swung his axe up under its arm pit, nearly cleaving the thing’s head and shoulder off.  It collapsed into a quivering pile of matted hair and meat.

“Ut un uz i-een!” Kazrack cursed incomprehensibly. 

Another of the bear-men came out of the shadow of the wood; perhaps it had snuck around the very edge of the top of the hill.  Gunthar was hard-pressed to get his guard up as his attention was on the where they thought was the place all the quaggoths emerged from.   He grunted as links of his mail were caught in the jagged claws of the beast.

Anarié moved past the Neergaardian to listen for more coming around to flank from the darkness, and Beorth finally dropping his foe with a sword thrust, stopped to listen as well.  

Martin cowered unsure of what to do, as yet another quaggoth came over the crest of the hill and charged at Kazrack.

Ratchis swung around striking deep into the shoulder of the quaggoth attacking Kazrack, but it refused to drop. Its squeal of pain turned into a roar of anger.

“Friggin’ sh*t-bears!” Gunthar swore.  “You decided to climb up the wrong friggin’ hill!”

Gunthar fought off his attacker at the base of a tree, and several of his blows did not hit their mark, for it kept withdrawing into the branches.  Suddenly, it roared and pushed through the branches to sink its teeth into Gunthar’s arm.

“Son of a bitch!” Gunthar swore.  The thing huffed and puffed and its matted hair became bristled and its chest expanded.

Ratchis, distracted, felt the club of the one before him.  Three more quaggoths were pulling themselves over the edge.

“Ow!” Beorth felt something like a sharp pinch at his neck, as something clanged against the bottom edge of his helmet.  Reflexively, he reached up and brushed at it and tiny crossbow bolt fell away.  The wound burned.  He looked around frantically for it source.

“I’m checking on Beorth,” Ratchis announced, still holding his ground as more quaggoths approached, hooting and swinging their wood and stone clubs over their heads.

“Unteh-oo tuh uld uh lun,” Kazrack called, as he thrust his halberd into the gut of the man-bear before him and with a twist of the broad blade ripped its insides out.  It tumbled over into the blood-soaked grass.

Anarié fired two more of her magic arrows at one of the quaggoths, not noticing that Beorth had spotted the source of the bolt.

There, barely visible in the shadow of a tall fir tree, stood a lithe dark figure, only a few loose strands of silver-white hair falling out from under a black leather helmet, and in muted gray mail that looked so finely woven that individual links could not be discerned.  The dark elf held a tiny crossbow in one hand, and held a short sword in the other.

“Anubis, help me strike down these evil foes of light,” Beorth prayed to his god as he rushed over, inwardly thanking his keen eye-sight, but it was too late that he realized that the elf had allowed himself to be seen, and withdrew; Beorth was drawn into a trap.  He felt a sharp blow to his side from behind and swung around, a second dark elf, this one wielding to two long swords had been hiding there, too.

From the darkness below the hill there came the sound of even more quaggoths hooting to each other.

One ran past Kazrack, and Martin only barely turned away  to only get a painful glancing blow off his hip.  As it was, it nearly knocked him off his feet.

Suddenly, the watch-mage cried out as he saw green and black flames begin to lick up his robes and surround him in an aura of arcane fire.  It moved with him, shedding dim green light in the clearing.

“What the…?”

Not thinking anything of what seemed like a new spell of Martin’s, Kazrack stepped over and drove his halberd blade into the quaggoth’s back.  It howled and turned to face the dwarf, suspicious of the green fire.

Gunthar and his foe traded blows, but it was too wild now and leaving itself open.  The Neergaardian feinted a thrust and the thing dove for him, missing.  It slammed its face against the hard ground.

The dark elf opened his mouth in a smile of brilliant white teeth.  He dropped his crossbow and pulled a longsword in a blur of movement, and Beorth’s was only barely able to turn away blows that would have killed, into ones that merely drew blood.

“Dark skinned betrayers from under the hill, you will die tonight!” Anarié cried with rare passion, and she ran parallel to where she finally had seen the ancient foe of her people, and two bolts of white light flew from her finger, slamming into the elf.

“Are you not happy to see us, cousin?” the dark elf sneered.

Martin had managed to draw and load his crossbow, but his bolt went flying high over the quaggoth’s head.

The drow that remained invisible to all but Beorth struck out with one of his blades, whipping at Beorth’s weapon hand, slicing open gauntlet and hand alike.   The sword flew from the paladin’s grasp and he turned to withdraw, feeling the bite of the drow blade twice more despite the enchantment on him.  In less than a moment, he was bleeding on the ground, growing colder by the moment.

“The drow are here!” Ratchis announced rushing back to help Beorth, a quaggoth on his tail.

“There’s no such thing as dark fairies, unless you count the ones down by the docks in Earthsea City,” Gunthar quipped.  He made short work of another quaggoth, ignoring the one on the ground momentarily.

Kazrack swung around and finished the one on the ground and swung out his blade to trip up the one chasing Ratchis, but it deftly leapt over the blow.

“_Askula_!” sang a voice above them, and they looked to see a tall female drow dressed in a long black coat covered in gray and purple spiders.  Her hair was cut in four stripes of shocking silver that wound down her back, kept in place by silver spiked barrettes, tied in intricate knots of hair.  Her skin was like ash, and about her neck was black metal spider pendant.

A globe of magical darkness covered part of the clearing, engulfing the two drow, Beorth’s dying form and the charging half-orc.  Two sharp blows greeted him to the deep darkness, and he frantically tried to keep up some guard, listening out for a footfall, but the sounds of battle were a cacophony.

“_Sagitta Magicus_,” Anarié canted again, aiming at the drow sorceress, but this time the two arrows of white light seemed to fizzle out of existence just before striking her.

“Weak surface magic,” the drow said in thickly accented elven.

Martin tried for a shot at the drow sorceress, but it arced low.

Ratchis leapt back out of the darkness and called to Nephthys to close his wounds.  Luckily, the quaggoth that was following him, had turned off to chase Martin, but Gunthar skipped out of the shadows with kick to the groin, and he slid his longsword into its chest through the shoulder when it doubled over. (2)  It did not get back up.

By now the clearing was a mess of dirty white and red.  More quaggoths had come over the side in the confusion, and Kazrack charged at one to keep two from ganging up on Anarié who was keeping them at bay gracefully, taking openings when she saw them.

Ratchis was caught unaware by one of the new-comers, and grunted in agony as he felt a stone club against his kidneys.

The darkness lifted and suddenly it dropped again, this time covering the main area of the battle.  

“You want magic?” Martin cried out to the floating drow sorceress from beneath his mantle of green and black flame and sounding a little crazed.  “Here is some magic for you.”

And suddenly the spell he had been chanting was completed.  There was a flash of blinding light, and there stood, roaring on its hind legs, a golden bear that  gleamed in the gloom.  The bear clawed angrily at one of the quaggoths, but the thing leapt back, and hooted in fear.

The drowess ascended out of sight.

Martin hurried around the darkness, ready to cast a spell at the first foe he saw, but instead he felt the bite of a tiny crossbow bolt. The world became a dark blur and he felt himself slowly falling to the ground, and then all was black for him.

Kazrack instinctively leapt out of the darkness, and with two chopping blows, finished the one harassing Anarié.

“Oh Spider-Goddess! Bring me your servant so that we may slay the surface-dweller and her weak companions,” the sorceress hissed (3) 

There was a pop and Anarie started as a fat black spider, nearly three feet in diameter appeared on the tree behind her.  She ducked and twisted to avoid its bite, but it scurried after her.  Ducking a quaggoth’s blow, she moved to flank the quaggoth still near her, putting it between her and Kazrack, and shoved her long sword through its lower back.  It howled, but did not fall, spinning around and whipping it blood in great arcs.

The bear went after the spider instead, smashing its soft body easily, while turning to find the next closest foe.

Ratchis rushed his way through the darkness towards where he had last seen Beorth, but his joy at coming out into the moonlight was short lived.  He saw movement to his left and turning to look, heard a twang, and suddenly his right eye was burning.  One of the tiny crossbow bolts of the drow had pierced his eyeball. (4) 

Roaring, he fell backwards, dropping his axe and clutching at his eye, and he wheeled around frantically.  In all the commotion, he did not even feel the venom on the dart that put him in a questionably merciful sleep.

Gunthar whipped around to barely miss the furiously quick blows of the drow elf with two long swords. 

“Bast’s Flabby Kitty Teats!” Gunthar cursed.  He gritted his teeth as he tried a riposte that was easily parried.  This elf also wore the gray finely woven mail, but had a burgundy cloak that seemed to flow in and out the darkness beneath the trees.  

“There is a such thing as drow elves!” the Neergaardian cried out, and he yelled to Martin, who had just managed to stumble out of the darkness close by.  “Fat ass! Get behind me!”

Gunthar and the drow fell to fencing, trading blows, and parrying.  Again and again their blades met and turned.  Gunthar put his strength into it, but the drow’s forms were practiced, and soon he had cuts in his wrist and forearm.

The Neergaardian cursed.

In the darkness, the summoned celestial bear squeezed the last life out of a quaggoth and bit deep into its shoulder to make sure. 

Clear of quaggoth for a moment, Kazrack ran to Ratchis’ large pack and pulling the long bow from atop it, began to try to string it.

“Ruchus!  Ur buh!  Uh jrow ‘itch en ee uhr!” he said, and looking up he saw the drow sorceress point a finger at him and hiss an arcane word.  A sickly green ray enveloped in a mist shot out at him, but Kazrack ducked out of the way of the spell, but right into the club of a quaggoth.

And now it was Anarié’s turn to come to Kazrack’s aid as she drove her blade into the back of a quaggoth moving to flank him.

Glad to have some support, Kazrack fit an arrow to Ratchis’ bow and fired up at the drow witch, but the arrow flew awkwardly and dropped short into the dirt. 

The sorceress disappeared once more.

Dropping the bow, Kazrack drew his flail and leapt at the other quaggoth, smashing it full on in the face with a satisfying crunch.   It fell, unmoving, to the earth.

The celestial bear grabbed another quaggoth in the darkness, and tore into it, killing it easily. It was the last one.

Anarié instinctively ducked a tiny bolt fired from the trees over her left shoulder, and spinning to knock the quaggoth she fought off balance, moved to support Gunthar, hoping to draw the other drow into a fight.

The bear bounded out of the darkness and charged at the drow wielding the hand crossbow, but the dark elf deftly spun out of the way.  However, he was startled by his comrade’s cry, as Gunthar found the opening he was looking for and cut deeply into his foe’s thigh, nearly cutting the whole leg free of the crumpling body.  (5) With one fluid movement, coming out of that blow, Gunthar spun into place to flank the other drow warrior against the glowing bear.

“Now we gotta little something goin’,” Gunthar said, licking his lips of his opponent’s blood.

The drow holding the crossbow moved away cautiously, ducking and weaving to avoid Gunthar’s blows, and getting dangerously close to the bear to cause the Neergaardian to pull his swords back, allowing for temporary escape.  Gunthar, however, was not to be deterred when he moved to follow and noted the elf’s greater speed.  He slid both swords away with a flick of his wrists, and pulled a javelin from the quiver on his back.

But the bear was quicker in its reaction and ripped at the elf with a claw.  Crying out, the drow threw himself over the side of the hill, tumbled down its steep rocky surface into inky shadow.  The bear, still following Martin’s last command to chase down and slay their foes, dove off the side after him.

Kazrack spun and threw a hand axe at the floating drowess, but she stayed just out of close range, surveying the melee as if she were not a part of it.

Anarié quickly cast a spell and moved with great speed away from the battle.

“Flee!  Flee!” the drowess mocked from above in her accented elvish, but she seemed to be doing the same.  Reaching out to grab a treetop to pull her levitating form around.

“Flee! Flee!” Anarié returned, and with a word she ran towards the tree leaping fifteen feet in the air and into the tree the drowess clung to.  Unfortunately, the elf maid failed to get a good footing and slammed through the branches and needles to land heavily on the ground.

The drow sorceress laughed.

Gunthar cursed and ran back to the campfire, sticking his javelin into the flame until it caught.

Meanwhile Kazrack began to climb the tree, Anarié had just fallen out of, while she drew her bow and looked for a shot on the sorceress.

“_Teneraél Undol, grant me spider’s grace_,” the sorceress chanted, and then leapt from the tree, clinging to a narrow branch at the top of one a handful of yards away like an insect. (6)

Gunthar threw his smoking javelin at the sorceress, but it just landed awkwardly in the tree, slowly making its way back down through the branches.

Anarié let an arrow fly, but it arced over the tree.

Looking down and then back up. Kazrack leapt back out of the tree, and ran over to check on Beorth and Ratchis.

Gunthar ran over to Martin’s slumbering form, and took up the mage’s crossbow and loaded it, taking a shot.

The sorceress leapt again and Anarié fired, but the arrow flew past the target.  However, in ducking to miss the shaft, the arc of her leap was ruined and she slammed on the ground at the base of the tree she was leaping for.

Kazrack looked up from where he was using a _cure minor wounds_ spell to stabilize Beorth, when he heard Anarié call, “She’s on the ground!”  The dwarf leapt to his feet and jogged in that direction, flail in hand.

A flurry of arrows of followed the sorceress back into the tree. She climbed with great speed and deftness, barely seeming to need to touch the branches.

“I hate these things,” Gunthar swore loading and firing again.  Again, he missed.

The drowess leapt again, and this time Anarié’s arrow struck home!  Or seemed to, only to bounce away as if it had struck some invisible barrier.

They chased her this way across the top of the hill, until bleeding from arrow that nicked her, she leapt into the top of a huge tree that was actually planted on one of the lower levels of the stepped hill.  She began to climb down with great speed, and Kazrack leapt right off the hill at her when she was nearly level with him, but the dwarf fell short, slamming into the tree and sliding down.

Gunthar did not even bother to try for the tree and did a running jump down to the next step.  His feet slipped out from under him and he landed painfully on his tailbone.

The drow sorceress leapt again, followed by one last arrow from Anarié, but it was too late.  She was gone. (7)

*End of Session #63* 


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

(1)	*DM’s Note:* Ken (who was still playing Gunthar at this point) has the greatest luck with crits.  As Jeremy, he scored more than anyone else (seeming to have an affinity for “Hand Removed at Wrist”), but the streak seemed to pass on to the playing of Gunthar. 

(2)	*DM’s Note:* This cinematic piece brought to you by the “Dirty-Fighting” Feat. 

(3)	Translated from the drow dialect.

(4)	*DM’s Note:* Ratchis suffered the “EyeBall Pierced” Critical effect.

(5)	*DM’s Note:* Ken (as Gunthar) scored a “+1 Total Damage Multiplier” (which causes damaged a number of additional times equal to the weapons critical damage multiplier plus one; so in this case x3).

(6)	Translated from the drow dialect.  _Teneraél Undol_ is the drow spider-goddess.

(7)	*DM’s Note:* This was the last session that Helene (Jana, Derek, Anarié) was able to play in the group as she had to return to France because her visa had expired.  Coincidentally, it was also the last session Ken ever played in as well.  We miss them both.


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## Graywolf-ELM

Wow, a running fighting, turning, chaotic battle.  I really like your representation of it.  So much more than the individual attack and damage rolls, but the actions that took place as well.

GW


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## Manzanita

nice to see a pure fight once in a while.  That was a tough one.  What level is the team at this point?


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## el-remmen

Manzanita said:
			
		

> nice to see a pure fight once in a while.  That was a tough one.  What level is the team at this point?




Last time the party faced quaggoths they were 3rd/4th.

This time they were 7th/8th.


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## Jon Potter

Well, nemmerle, I think you have my vote for favorite post in recent memory. Truly a great battle scene; one that I could easily picture while reading it. It's good to see that Gunthar's good for something other than being an ass. He's good at kicking some too! He seemed to do more to turn the battle than anyone else.

But my favorite quote from this one is this: “Dark skinned betrayers from under the hill, you will die tonight!” It manages to conjure up the old familiar underdark ideal of the dark elf and the image of unseelie fae at the same time.

I don't comment here nearly often enough. But "Out of the Frying Pan" was one of the first story hours I read (if not the first - I can never remember which came first, yours of drnuncheon's) and it's still one of my very favorites.


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## el-remmen

Oh, and I also wanted to comment that for people that complain about how short 3E combats are - this was an 18 round fight with no particular strange environmental conditions, which just about average for us, I think.


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## el-remmen

Jon Potter said:
			
		

> I don't comment here nearly often enough. But "Out of the Frying Pan" was one of the first story hours I read (if not the first - I can never remember which came first, yours of drnuncheon's) and it's still one of my very favorites.





I'm glad you like it, Jon.

The campaign takes a pretty major turn for the next dozen sessions or so, only because the first time the party leaves the area of Gothanius to do things they want (and feel they need) to do - so for the first time since Book I: Gathering Wood, you will get to seem them traveling through some pretty major wilderness - and seeing some of what the rest of Derome-Delem is like.


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## el-remmen

Hey all!

*Just a heads up:* I posted an overview of the cast of characters from the "Out of the Frying Pan" story hour in the Portal Thread. . . 

You can view it directly here.

Let me know if there are any errors or omissions that you catch, or if there are any questions.  

It is up to date through the most recently posted installment, but does not include PCs, only NPCs.


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## Manzanita

I'll be curious to meet the new PCs.  I assume you were able to recruit a couple after loosing those two players.

The NPC index is cool.  I knew you were keeping track of all of them...


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## el-remmen

Hey!  Just for all of you keeping score at home. . . I have been diligently working on the next installment and hope to have it up this weekend some time. 

But how about a sneak preview of some of the things to come in the next few sessions:

_Bridges, Barbarians, Bears and being lost in the Bowels* of the Earth!_







* and when I say "bowels" I _mean_, "bowels".


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## Manzanita

this reminds me of a spoiler a read awhile back about (dare I say it?) 



Spoiler



Beorth being dumped in a pit full of sh*t....


  Looking forward to it, in any case.


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## el-remmen

Hey Manz,

I used my super-nifty mod powers to wrap spoiler tags around your spoiler. . . .

Now it can only be read by those who dare highlight. . .


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## Elrik_DarkFury

Hi people!
Hello Mr Nem.

I just read the new update and it was great!



> (2) DM’s Note: This cinematic piece brought to you by the “Dirty-Fighting” Feat.




Sorry to bother you ,but i would like to know what exactly “Dirty-Fighting” Feat does.
Although reading this again and again,i can't understand how it works.



> (7) DM’s Note: This was the last session that Helene (Jana, Derek, Anarié) was able to play in the group as she had to return to France because her visa had expired. Coincidentally, it was also the session Ken ever played in as well. We miss them both.




Sorry to hear that.It always sucks when friends leave,and your party is smaller now.
-have you bring new players around? 

Anyway,keep up the good work and give us something new asap.
Bye 
________________
The Wizard


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## el-remmen

*SO ENDS BOOK III of the 'OUT OF THE FRYING PAN' CYCLE:* _*FANNING THE EMBERS*_


*The continuation of the titanic tale of terror can be found in. . . * 

*BOOK IV: INTO THE FIRE​*


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## Graywolf-ELM

Another thread to add to my list.

GW


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## el-remmen

Hey, all. . .

I just wanted to bump this for two reasons:

The first reason is obvious, I renamed the thread to "Book III: Fanning the Embers" - deciding it was better off having a name that fit in with the other three books (two before it and one after it) - and just breaking it into two parts named, "_The Fearless Manticore Killers & The Necropolis of Doom!!!_" and "_The Fearless Manticore Killers & The Pit of Bones!_"

The second reason is because I have been editing and cleaning up this "book" in order to make a zipped up word doc version available for download and I have really enjoyed re-reading it and remembering how much fun these adventures were and how great some of the scenes were - and how well the build up to finding and entering Hurgun's Maze turned out upon reflection. . .


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## el-remmen

*NOTE:*  Originally this thread extended to Session #68 - but today I did some splitting and merging of threads so that this thread ends with Session #63 and Book IV begins with Session #64. 

I made these changes because it made more sense to me for the journey to Nikar to be part of the Book that tells the tale of the events of the party in Nikar.

Unfortunately, in merging those last four sessions with Book IV we lost almost all the thread views for the Book IV thread (from 17,000+ views to less than 700).  I did not know that would happen.

(Edited to Add: but then 14 years later I re-organized it back to how I originally had it).


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## el-remmen

This entire book, including both the "Necropolis of DOOM!" and "The Pit of Bones" adventures, 
is available for download in zipped up .doc format by clicking here.

Compilations of Books I, II & III are all available in the "Out of Frying Pan" Story Hour Portal Thread

(Edit (3/6/2021): A new compiled version of Book III is in the works - watch this space!​


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## el-remmen

This entire book, including both the "Necropolis of DOOM!" and "The Pit of Bones" adventures (Session #40 through #68), is available for download in zipped up .pdf format by clicking here.

Compilations of Books I, II & III are all available in the "Out of Frying Pan" Story Hour Portal Thread


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