# Struggle and Strife- A scarred lands storyhour



## Lars Frehse

_You can find the stats of the PCs here: http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=27433

Of course, those stats are from a point in the campaign at which they had already evolved a bit. Right now, they are much weaker and less refined, as you will see...

And now, to the story:_





Prologue: Departure

It had been an unkind summer for the people of Durrover. The sun had scorched the earth for months now, and the little few rainshowers inbetween had led merely to short relief.
In the little village of Oreirover things didn't look brighter. The well of the village had almost dried out, so that the villagers had to walk up to their Baron's small castle to get any water at all.In better times, there had been a small streamlet between the castle's hill and the village, but it had dried out under the sun's merciless rays, just like it had stripped the peaks of the Kelder mountains, which loomed majestatically to the west, of their white coats.

But the drought wasn't the greatest cause of fear for the villagers of Oreirover this year. Rumors had reached the hamlet that Archduke Traviak of Lageni was mounting yet another offensive against their country. In the past, their village had been spared, but they knew, that it was only a matter of time until the black dragoons would come and lay their village to waste.

Since the Dragoon's dedication to their mundane lords, Archduke Traviak of Lageni and King Virduk of Callastia, was only surpassed by their fervent worship of Chardun the tyrant god, the villagers knew that there was no point in hoping for mercy.
Fearing, that after defeat, the children would become sacrifices to Chardun, the god of slavery and conquest, they had sent them away earlier this year. Most of the children were now in Durrover Town, and the other in villages farer away from the border.

The only children left were the sons of Palek, the blacksmith and Torn, the little half orc boy who came with a half-orc family, that had been hired as added protection. Morte and Jan were 12 and 13 years old, and their father relied on them to help equipping the newly hired mercenaries. The two boys were brothers in all but blood. Jan had been brought into the village by a dying woman, who had been beautiful even in the face of death. And so, while Morte had the stocky build and the dark looks of the people of Durrover and a face that looked like it was stretched too long, Jan looked like an angel, or so the villagers, and especially the girls thought: His face was even and his eyes were bright blue.

The days of Vangalot passed, each one scorching the tormented land with it's merciless heat. Then, one Wildday, news reached the Baron: Duke Traviak had just left the Kelder behind, crossing the only barrier between his Duchy and the free country of Durrover.

Later at night, in one of the rooms of the castle, the Baron summoned Ben, the halfling and Trepat, the elf. The two looked like an odd couple: Ben was a very young halfling, yet his face lacked the smile and the happiness that halflings usually expressed. It was clear that he had already seen too many bad things in his young life. Trepat was a wild elf. And so he was nude except for his loincloth and his bow and his body was tatooed over and over. Still, in spite of his wild experience, he radiated an air of calm and sincerity, that usually won over the people he met.

"Well, I think the two of you know that the situation is grave."
Since the question was merely rhetorical, he spoke on without waiting for an answer:"There is no way we can withstand the forces of Duke Traviak for long. Alas, the villagers have sworn to make a stand, and I am honorbound by birth and position.
I want you two to take care of something. There is a little secret tunnel leading out of here. We suspect that even though the main body of the enemy is still 10 miles away from here, there are scouts around. So, what I want you to do is take the two sons of the smith and the little half orc boy with you and escort them safely to Durrover city."

Ben and Trepat exchanged a quick and puzzled frown, and then Trepat asked: "I accept, of course, and I am grateful for your trust, Sir, but why us?".

Baron Oreirover seemed to expect that question, since he answered straight away:" Well, it was the logical choice, really. I considered one man to be not enough to ensure the kids's safety. I chose you Ben, since you achieved a feat, that seems almost impossible in retrospect: You were a wanted man in Calastia, yet you were able to cross the entire empire, outsmart your hunters, and coming here alive. I value your gift for survival, your cunning and your knowledge of the wild.
With you, Trepat, I know that the children trust you, and that you have the ability to make them do what you want. You are the only one who I suppose can tame Kadum's blood, that is racing through the veins of the youngest one. Furthermore, you too are a survivor and I have the feeling, that even though you are not a local, you would give your life in order to protect the boys.
Here is a letter. I want you to give it to Knight Brassun, the leader of the garrison in Durrover Town. He is a cousin of mine, and a Paladin of Corean- this letter advises him to take the kids under his wing. Maybe they can become soldiers, maybe more. At least the two locals are blacksmiths… He will figure something out, I think…
Well, there is little else I can say now. The fathers are talking to their boys now, and will send them down to the entrance of the tunnel. Go there now, there are ample provisions for you down there, too. 
May Corean hold his shielding hands over you."

In the meantime, Torn’s father woke his youngest son by shaking him roughly.
"Wake up young lad, leave Erias's sweet embrace and come to face your father's rough hand", he laughed.

"What is it, dad?", Torn mumbled sleepily.

"Well, young lad, your family has decided to become heroes, ain't that sumpn?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, an hour ago, Baron Oreirover approached me and made me an offer: He said that there is no need for me and my family to risk their lifes, and that he would understand if we were gone by dawn!" the scarred Half-Orc shouted.

"Thank Erias!" Torn, now wide awake, exclaimed. "So, are we packing now?"

"Yes, you have to pack and get ready now. We other will stay."

"But, why?"

"Well, you know what it has always been like for us. Because we are what we are, we had to live on the move all our lives.Here it was different. The villagers and even the Baron and his 
knights treated us well. Still, I was ready to prepare for our departure tonight. After all, this place isn't worth to face certain death for.
But then, the Baron offered me to leave, and I decided to stay. You see, those people ARE worth dying for. He cared enough for us to offer the life he wasn't able to live anymore. So your uncle and I pledged our life to him on an impulse.
HAH! He might be better then most humans, but still, you should have seen his face!" he cackled.

"Then,", Torn said, swallowing down the fierce tears that kept coming, "I will fight and die with you".

His father shook his head sadly:" Fighting and dieing is no business for an eight year old.".

"BUT DAAAAAD..:"
Torn was interrupted by his father grabbing his shoulders:" Listen son, before I have to smack you! There is nothing you can do, but the Baron offered to have you snuck out of here! And you know that we don't fear death. And we will see again, even if it is only in the 
realms of dreaming. Erias will allow us to keep in touch- don't think I would leave my only son like that.
But there is something else I want you to know, and I want you to listen very well.
I have often told you about your granddad, my father, and what a great thief he was. Now, I will tell you what little I know about how he aquired his skills. Once, when he was already a skilled rogue, he took a job from an organization called “The cult of ancients” or “The guild of the ancients”, or something along these lines. They wanted him to get them a book called “The power of death”. Your graddad succeeded, but before he handed it over to those cultists, he read it himself. And he found out that it gave him powers far beyond his previous abilities. It turned him into a true master of life and death.
He disappeared when I was a young lad, but I remember, that he told me that he brought the book to a man in Mithril, the city of Paladins and that huge statue they have there.”

He hugged his son one last time, and handed him a dagger:” Here, take this. You never know whether you will need a weapon.”

In another chamber of the keep, Jan and Morte were being woken up by their father, the smith:
“Hey, lads, you know, defending the keep and rebuilding the village once we turned the Dragoons away will be a job for grown ups. I want you to go to Durrover Town in the meantime.”
Old Palek was a good man, but a bad liar, so both sons felt that his good cheer was only there in order to calm them. Right away, both sons objected, but their father ordered them to be silent and obey.

“I know that it is not Corean’s will that the two of you will become just two more sacrifical lambs to his brother, Chardun. Both of you will go with the halfling and the elf, they will lead you. While you are at it, I want you to take care of the little half-orc boy. He will be even lonelier then you, for you will have each other.”
Both brother nodded, desperately trying to keep from crying.

“Jan, there is one last unfinished business I have to deal with. You know that you and your mother have always loved you like we love your brother, even though you are not our own flesh. There is something I have to show you.”

The smith rummaged through his satchel and after a short while handed a small medallion over to Jan:” When your mother dropped you at our doorstep with only a few more breaths left in her diseased body, she handed not only you, being still a toddler then, over to my Wife, but also this amulet. As you can see, there is the shape of a closed eye on it. Now, I don’t know what it means, but it is the only wordly possession your mother left you.”
And then, with a firm hug, he dismissed the boys.

When all five of them had arrived in the cellar, Trepat lead the way into the dark passage that took them away from the castle. After ten minutes, they exited the tunnel and marched silently to the northeast.

In the morning, the sky was still dark and for the first time in weeks, it looked like rain. And then, just as as the first drops started to fall, Ben looked over his shoulder and saw smoke coming from a few miles back. He intended to not point it out to the kids, who looked sad enough already, but just a few more minutes later, Torn noticed at, and shouted: “Look, there!”.

As they all turned around, they now saw a spectacular sight. Hundreds of small fiery streaks flew through the dark sky. Where they hit, there was soon another collumn of smoke.

“My dad told me about this!”, Torn blurted out excitedly, “The black dragoons use magical crossbows that set their bolts on fire and strike fear into the heart of their enemies!”.

Only then did he seem to realize that his own dad was one of those enemies now, and his face darkened.

They started to walk again, trying not to look back, and their tears mixed with the rain.

By noon, they reached a path- so far, they had been careful to avoid roads and paths, fearing soldiers could patrol them. After a short talk, Trepat and Ben decided to take the path. They had covered a couple of miles already, and if they would go on walking cross country, their supplies wouldn’t last.

So, they walked along the path, and the rain kept on pouring, as all of a sudden two foot soldiers with drawn swords stepped into their path.

”Well, well, well, my little kiddoes, what have we her?”, chanted one of them and the other one added: “OK, Elf, halfling, we only want the kids. You are free to go.”.

Ben was the first to react, and he said only one word, as he loaded his sling: “No.”.

Everything happened rather quick afterwards.
The soldier who chanted stepped forward and slashed his sword at Trepat, who avoided the blade by stepping backwards. Jan, who stood at his side, pulled out his shortsword and stabbed it at the man’s leg. Blood gushed out of the wound and Trepat raised his hand to channel arcane energy at the enemy. A bolt of light hit the man, but before either one, the elf or the man, were able to figure out what had happened, Morte was there, shoving his dagger through the leather armor into the soldier’s chest.
Meanwhile, Torn had charged the other soldier with his dagger, catching him by surprise. The soldier slashed at the little half orc and then turned to run, but the boy felt Kadum’s blood raging in his veins and threw his dagger at the back of his adversary. He struck, and the man fell flat on his face.

The moment he smashed on the ground, the boy was already over him, stabbing his dagger repeatedly into the corpse, over and over. He didn’t care whether this man was dead or alive, Torn felt like he had caught Traviak himself and was able to avenge his family’s death. (Or whatever it was fate had had in store for them.).

“It’s alright”, Ben said, touching Torn on the soldier. The little boy turned around, and Ben saw tears of rage and sorrow streaking down his cheeks. “Take the sword, if you want to, but we should move on. If there were two, there could be more.”.

They marched on, and at night, none of them slept well, except for Torn, who’s request to dream to let him sleep in peace was answered.

When the kids had fallen asleep, Ben said to  Trepat:” I didn’t know you were a sorceror”.

“Neither did I. There were some sorcerors in my family, though, so maybe I inherited the gift. I think I will delve into this once we brought the kids into town. They will all make good soldiers, I think.”

Ben nodded in agreement:” Yes. They were all rather fierce for young kids… There was something else I noticed. The blond boy’s amulet. When he hit that soldier, it looked like he would miss at first. But then the amulet sparkled, and he hit…”

”Strange… Those are strange times we live in. Listen, you can sleep now, I will watch out. There is a lot I have to think about.”
Ben didn’t need an invitation: he turned around and fell asleep.

The next day, they met other refugees who also went to Durrover town, and feeling safety in numbers, they joined them. And the day after that, they had reached their sancuary: Durrover, a town that was already crowded with refugees.


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## Snoweel

Bring it Lars.

VERY sneaky idea to begin with children.


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## Piratecat

It is, isn't it? But Lars is a sneaky kind of guy!


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## Dinkeldog

Woof!


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## SSS-Druid

Well done. :-D

I think someone owns Secrets & Societies. *chuckles* Thoroughly enjoying it, Lars. Looking forward to more.


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## Nightfall

Great Job Lars!  I'm definately enjoying this ALOT!


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## Doc_Souark

Good story Batty, do you have the PCs stats posted anywhere ?


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## Lars Frehse

Thank you all very much!

Snoweel and PC, thanks. I am trying to be a nice DM, but a little sneakiness has never hurt, eh? 

Dink and Nightfall, I am glad you like it. 

SSS-Druid, yes,  some parts of Secrets and Societies somehow found it's way into these stories... I will rely heavily on the Scarred Lands sourcebooks in the future, since I intend to stay as close to "Canon" as possible.
Incidentally, I am rather flattered that you are reading this story hour, since I definetly intend to run the Serpent Amphora with my group. It is the kind of adventure my players enjoy, and also I look at it as a good way to introduce certain elements. (I can't say too much here, since my players are reading this story hour, too. So, maybe I should switch to e-mail )

Doc, unfortunately, the players took their character sheets with them, and we play in two weeks. I will post their stats then. But I intend to post two smaller story hours with some background about Ben and Trepat, and I can call them and let them tell me their stats.

Anyway, I think I will write the next installment by Friday so that the two weeks inbetween now and the next game will be filled with more background.


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## Dinkeldog

Oh, Lars, no.

Let the players put the characters up.  That's what most self-respecting story hour writers do.  You've got enough to do trying to write the characters up as if the players hadn't just sat around the table like lumps for four hours going, "Uh...Um...I swing at him with my suh-word...Which way did he go, George?  Which way did he go?"

Let the players do *some* of the work.


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## Ancalagon

An intriguing start...

keep them coming!

Ancalagon


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## Dherys Thal

*Scarred Lands*

I've been dying to run a game in the Scarred Lands - I've picked up and read all the material, but my current game is very involved in my own milieux - and that isnt' ending anytime soon - so I'm very much looking forward to more from this series, given the very promising start!  As much as anything - I'm interested to watch which storylines, factions, plots you choose to evolve, and which locations you choose (Durrover is a great start) to work through and so on.

Keep it comin'!


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## Nightfall

Lars, I'm ALWAYS a fan of a guy that tries to breathe life into his campaign, no matter the setting. I am glad though you've done such a fine job here. It's a tribute to you AND your players that they've taken this on themselves.


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## KidCthulhu

Nice start, Lars.  I'm going to be taking the reins of PC's Scarred Lands game soon (gulp!), so you and I should swap _evil_ ideas.


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## Lars Frehse

Thank you all for your further comments. I am really happy about the feedback, and each of your posts really mean a lot to me. After all, I feel a bit nervous about writing in English.
Anyway, right now I am writing a short installment that tells the background story of Ben, the halfling. I will be able to post that one on Tuesday, at the latest, and after that, we will play weekly again, so I can write accordingly then.


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## Snoweel

Come on Lars, stop teasing.


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## Lars Frehse

*Ben*

Ben didn’t stay in Durrover Town for long. It was the biggest city he had ever seen, and the longer he was there, the more he felt that he was in the wrong place there. There was not one spot of calm in the entire town- wherever he turned, there were _people_. And with the people came the people’s noise, their dirt and, worst of all, their smells.

So, once he was certain that all three kids were accepted as recruits by the militia, he bid them and Trepat farewell and went out into the wild.
He was a fairly skilled hunter and trapmaker, so survival was easy for him. He lived off the land, and when he needed things nature didn’t provide him with, like boots or salt, he sold leather or meat to villagers in exchange for money or the goods he needed.

A year passed, and Ben felt free and happy. At last, he was able to live the way he felt was right for him, and noone told him what to do. At night, he often dreamt of being a spider, or even some more fantastic creatures. In those dreams he never once wondered why he had such fantastic forms- it always felt natural to him.

Then, one sunny day in Chardot, he just went along a small streamlet in a wood that he made his “home”, to check the fish traps he had placed there, as an elven woman stepped into his path.

She was dressed according to wildelf custom- meaning that she was nude except for her boots and loincloth. Her body was tatooed with arcane patterns and symbols, and yet Ben noticed that she was taller and, even though still delicate, definetly stronger framed then either his friend Trepat or any of the Forsaken Elves he had seen in Durrover. She must be a half elf, he thought. Yet, even though he could have sworn he had never seen her before in his life, he felt like he knew her. Not only that- he even felt like she was an old friend…

“Greetings”, she said. 

He was a bit startled, but greeted her in return none the less.

She smiled at him: “You must be the wild Halfling the villagers are talking about. My name is Ielenna.”

”My name is Ben. What do you want?”

”Ah, you are suspicious of sentient lifeforms! Very well. Say, do you ever dream of being an animal, or some strange exotic creature?”

Ben thought of his spider dreams: “Yes, but…”.

“Even better, then!”, she interrupted him, obviously happy about something.
“Well, sit down, there is a lot we need to talk about.” And as Ben hesitated, she added: “There is no harm in talking, is there?”

Ben’s feeling of friendship towards that strange woman was stronger then his usual mistrust of people and so he sat down.

“It is certainly unusual for a young Halfling to be in Durrover. Much more unusual even, that this halfling is living of the land. What brought you here.”.

“Well, originally I lived in the Heteronomy of Virduk. On the western fringe of the Calastian empire. My parents were millers and I was their only son. I was destined to become a miller like them but I resisted. I detested the work and the whole life as slaves to Calastia.

“So, one night, my friend Fahlhand and me did what we considered a prank then. There was a large herd of cattle ready to be transported to Calastia reigned in at the edge of our village. We both sneaked to the gate and opened it. Then we moved around the fence that surrounded the cattle and threw a torch into their midst. The animals panicked, of course, and stormed out of the only opening: the gate we had previously opened.

“Unfortunately, two militiamen stood at the gate and were trampled to death. And more unfortunately, it turned out that we had been seen and were now hunted for assassination of representatives of the Satrap.

“So, we ran away. Later, Fahlhand and me got separated, and I had to move on on my own.
I crossed the entire width of the Calastian empire, and even though I had never left the heteronomy before, I often felt as if I knew the land.

“Often, when I saw a hill, I would think that there would be a river beyond it, and I was right more often then not. Or I would know which way I had to head in order to get to safety. And now, that I saw maps, I really saw out that Durrover was the only way of escape for me that didn’t lead through blight terrain or lands still overrun by titanspawn.

“The dreams were more vivid then before, too, and one time, when hounds were chasing me, I was able to climb a tree as if I were really a spider!

So, I made it over the Kelders and into Durrover.”

And then Ben told her the story of his time in the village of Oreirover and the events that took place there. By now, he felt that he could completely trust the half elven woman.

When he was finished, Iellena simply said: “Let me tell you something that you are probably already aware of: You have lived before.”

Ben nodded. He did feel like he was much, much older then his 31 years, and it explained his strange feeling of knowing places he had never been to before.

Seeing that Ben understood, Iellena continued: “You are what is called an Incarnate. And I am an Incarnate myself. In fact, we have met countless times before in previous lives. You see, we are born over and over again in order to fulfill the will of Denev.

“I will take you under my wing for now, and I will teach you to channel the power of nature and you will become a Druid.

“But for now, I think I saw a big fish in that trap downstream, so let us have dinner first.”

And so, Ben met Ielenna and she became his teacher. For the next years, they crossed the wilderness together and she taught him what it means to be an incarnate- an eternal servant of Denev, the Earthmother, a keeper of the balance and a protector of nature.


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## Nightfall

Oh yes!  Good stuff Lars! I like it a lot! Halfing incarnate! Very sweet!


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## KidCthulhu

Go Ben, stick it to those Calistans!


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## Lars Frehse

Ah, looks like we are back on track!


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## Nightfall

Luck for you then Lars!  So will we get update soon? I can't wait for more!


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## Lars Frehse

I think I will be able to post an update on monday or tuesday. Today we will play (After two weeks interruption- YAY)


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## Falcon

TD here.

Good stuff, Lars.    I am using some Scarred Lands schtuff in my campaign, and I think I may be stealing, err, uhm, borrowing some ideas.

And your English is impeccable.  I only wish my written German could come close to your skill with English.  Looking forward to more...


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## Lars Frehse

*Chapter 3: The squirrel and the scorched ones (Part1)*

The squirrel and the scorched ones

Years passed and even though the refugees tried to keep in touch, they never managed to get all five of them together again.

Yet, on the first of Tanot in 150, it was time for Morte to get fully accepted among the ranks of the Fists of Mithril. The boy had grown to be a dark and thin man, and after his master, Brother William, had fulfilled the little ritual, and Morte took up his monastrial name of “Niklas”, they both went up to a nearby hill that was a common meeting spot for the citizens of Durrover.

As they went up the hill, Niklas once again looked at the familiar face of his master. He was greyhaired and had steelblue eyes that sparkled with intelligence and humor and under his high cheekbones, there were, as always, small wrinkles at the edge of his mouth, as if he was constantly trying to hold back a radiant smile and losing the battle.

It was brother William who had taken the young man under his wing, when it turned out, that in spite of his fervant worship of Corean, he wan’t quite Paladin material. And it turned out that he made a much better monk then anybody could have hoped for.

Now, they had reached the meeting spot on the hill and there, to his surprise, Niklas saw that his master had summoned all his old friends: 

There was Jan, who had stayed with the Paladins and was now proudly bearing the insignia of a Paladin of Corean. 

Next to him, unpacking food and wine was Torn. No more a little boy, the Half Orc was now the height of Niklas’s brother while being the double in width. Even though he was the youngest of them, he already had some scars and a broken nose. After he got expelled from the militia, he had turned to a life on the street, making his fortune among the criminals and outcast.

And then, there were Ben and Trepat. Both hadn’t changed much since they had escorted the kids out of Oreirover, even though they had both found their destinies: The Elf had become a sorceror and the halfling an Incarnate.

They all greeted each other heartily, for even though their paths had gone their separate ways, they had managed to stay friends throughout the years.

After a while of food and wine, brother William raised his voice: “I am really glad you all were able to make it here. Not only is it a great day for Novice Niklas, but I also have work for you!”

“Some of you know that I am not only a faithful monk of corean, but also a scholar and wizard. Now, there is something I would like you to do for me. This here”, and he held up four heavy looking square packages that were sewn into some leathery material, “are four rare books. Each of them is worth quite a bit for scholars, and I would like to deliver them to their final destination myself, but I was dispatched on a diplomatic mission to Hollowfaust, the city of Necromancers. So I want you to bring it there. Oh, and Jan, your sire Knight Hawkings has told me that you are free to go on this mission, as well.”

Niklas interrupted him: “But where do you want us to deliver those books to?”.

“Didn’t I mention it? Well, to the heart of our church, of course. To Mithril!”

The group gasped. Even if they would be able to fly like a bird, it would be a trip of a thousand miles. But given the countless obstacles on the way,  the Kelder mountains and the mourning marshes being just two of them, they would easily have to walk twice as far on foot.

“Well, don’t worry, you will be fine! Also, this will be your chance to see a good part of Ghelspad and gain valuable experience, while you are at it.

“The best part of it is, that you can take your time. I predict you will need about a year or so, but time doesn’t really matter. Books are not like milk: They don’t  turn into cheese, if you keep them too long. They are much more like a family heirloom: When they are lost, it is a tragedy.”

Ben stood up, patting his dog, and asked: “But how much will we get in return, apart from the experience?”

“Good question young halfling. Well, I will pay you 100 pieces of Gold now, and I guarantee you will get 300 pieces, once you reach Mithril. Furthermore, I have some gifts for you wrapped up here. So, who is in?”

All of them nodded in agreement.

“Good, then. Well, Jan, you take the money, I trust you to fairly distribute it. Oh, and here is something your Sire gave to me, so that you can have it.”

And with these words, he pulled an oversized sword out of his canvas roll and handed it to the young Paladin.

“As you can see, there is silver worked into the blade itself. With it, you will be able to fight the servants of Belsameth, since they may not fear steel, but they can be killed with silver.”

And then Brother William distributed the other gifts: A scroll with Arcane magic for Trepat, A magical bullet that can explode into a fireball for Ben’s sling, a potion of invisibility for the Half Orc and at last he turned to his student.

”For you, I have two gifts. The first one is an empty book: You will be able to keep your notes and whatever you deem worthy there. Second, there is this little flask. It is called an “Armor in a bottle”. If you pour it over your body, you will be enshrouded in a magical mist that will protect you from blows, much like a metal armor does.”.

“And now, I have to leave. Let the gods and the earth mother guide you, and let reason be your guide at all times. Don’t let your own righteousness blind you. And remember:

The enemy is not the Prince of Matter; the enemy is the arrogance of the spirit, faith without smile, truth that is never seized by doubt.”

And so, after a cheerful goodbye from all, Brother William left. 

On the next day, after buying provisions and a donkey, they set off on their long journey northwards. Every now and then, it rained, but the weather cleared up after a few days, as they entered a wood.

It was noon, and the party had crossed about a quarter of the length of the wood, as a Squirrel jumped onto a twig in front of the adventurers.

“Greetings Wanderers!”, the squirrel said with a thin but audible voice.

The young men looked at each other in surprise, except for Ben, who recognized him for what he was. He bowed down and said: “Greetings and well met, Herald of Denev.”

“You don’t have to bow down in front of me, Incarnate.”, he said to Ben and then turned to face the rest of the group: “My name is Squirrel Nutkin, and I need your help!”.


_to be continued..._


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## Nightfall

Yes!  Another fine posting from what I feel is one of the better story hours out here! *Just my opinion of course!  *


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## Horacio

*Re: Chapter 3: The squirrel and the scorched ones (Part1)*



			
				Lars Frehse said:
			
		

> *“You don’t have to bow down in front of me, Incarnate.”, he said to Ben and then turned to face the rest of the group: “My name is Squirrel Nutkin, and I need your help!”.
> [/i] *




Squirrel Nutkin? Squirrel Nutkin!?!?!?
What does HE do here? 

BTW, I've just discovered your story. Wonderful! I've loved it inmediatly.


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## Snoweel

I think he's going to try to insidiously convert them to Communism.

Failing that he'll pull out teh banhammer...


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## Nightfall

Some how I always thought of Denev as being a Marxism!


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## KidCthulhu

Ooooh, that Squirrel Nutkin, you watch out for him.  He's up to mischef for certain.


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## Lars Frehse

*The Squirrel and the scorched ones part two*

“Titanspawn are lairing in an old ruin here in my wood. They are foul beings, whose mere presence defiles the very land. They smell like burnt meat, and every now and then, they come into the woods and try to burn it. Fortunately, so far, it had been rainy, but now the sun has been shining for two days and it doesn’t look like there will be rain soon. Yet, I fear that they could burn down the whole forest. Will you help me?”

Even though helping a talking squirrel felt like a strange thing to do to some of them, all of them agreed.

So, the squirrel lead them into the forest. As he jumped from branch to branch, the flowers seemed to turn their heads, and follow the little red rodent as if he were the sun. They went to an old oak tree that served as a home to Nutkin and stashed away the books. Since it was already dark, they put up their tents.

Nutkin used Niklas’s book to draw a map into it. It was  a sight that raised a smile, in spite of the anticipation of upcoming battle. He used a feather that was as tall as he was himself and held it with both of his little paws. As he painted, he frantically jumped around on the page in order to draw all details.

When he was done, the men could see that the ruins were on top of an old hill. Apparently, it was a castle that had burnt to the ground centuries ago. Squirrel Nutkin didn’t know which side it had served in the titan’s war, but ever since, it was an empty ruin, with some parts of the old wall still standing and only two buildings that were intact enough to keep standing: An old longhouse and a stonetower.

The hill itself was made of vulcanic rock, and only moss and shrubbery grew on it.

Also, he described the charfiends, as he called them, to the young heroes. They looked like humanoid reptilians with huge jaws and long, fierce claws. Their scaled bodies were covered with patches of burnt fur.

As the sun set, they all went to sleep, and only Ben stayed up in order to talk with the herald of Denev.

At night, Torn dreamt of his father. In this dream, he was sitting opposed of his father at a camp fire, and he was a kid again.

“Look”, his father said, thrusting a dagger into the fire, “no matter how hard I stab at the fire, I won’t defeat it.”.

Then his father turned around, got a bucket of water, and poured it over the fire, extinguishing it with an angry hiss:” You see, depending on who you fight, the least dangerous looking weapon can be the most effective one!”.

And then, the clarity vanished from Torn’s dream, and he drifted off into insubstantial dreams.

On the next morning, Trepat send his familiar raven of to scout over the hill and the ruins. On top of the abandoned tower, he saw one of the Charfiends looking around. After a few hours, the one left the top of the tower, and after a while another one came up.

So, a plan was formed: The group would sneak up the hill during the change of guards and hide in the shadow of the tower. There, one would sneak up the old freestanding stairways that lead to a door at half the height of it.

In the evening, the guards changed. Squirrel Nutkin wished them luck, and all of them went up the hill. There, they stopped for a while, and once they were certain no one had heard them, Torn climbed up the stairs. 

As he had just reached the top, the uppermost step in the free standing spiral stairway gave way and fell down 20 feet, crashing loudly to the ground. The group stood paralyzed, knowing that the noise was loud enough to wake up the dead.

Everything happened rather fast now: The door of the tower burst open, and three of the charfiends charged out of it, attacking the group with their claws and teeth. A fierce battle ensued, and most of the young men were nauseated by the smell of acrid smoke and scorched flesh that the monsters spread. For a while it looked as if the demons would gain the upper hand, and they struck down Jan. But just as they pressed on at the other heroes, Nutkin appeared from nowhere, and touched Jan’s forehead with his paw. Mystical energy engulfed the Paladin and his wounds closed. Now, our heroes regained their footing and defeated the Charfiends.

Their enemies defeated on the ground, Nutkin went on to take care of some other wounds. Ben, who had been shooting his sling, was just on his way to help on some injuries himself, as the door of the main building opened, and five more fiends came out. One of them, apparently their leader, wore armor and held a Spiked Chain in his claws.

For seconds that felt like hours, both groups stared at each other, evaluating the strength of the opponent. Nutkin stood the shoulder of Jan, and pointed at the woods, since he had spent most of his healing powers for the day, he wanted to continue the fight another day. But Ben had ana different idea: he dropped his explosive bullet into his sling and fired it towards the group of fiends. A fireball exploded and the area was covered in smoke.

As the smoke lifted, the five fiends still stood there, unharmed, and the leader shouted: “You think you can hurt us with fire? Our lord would never hurt his devout followers”. And then he screamed in an inhumane voice as the rage of his Titan creator took control of him.

All fiends charged, concentrating on the Paladin, for the symbol of Corean, who was their hated nemesis, instilled a frenzy in the cruel fiendy. The friends rushed forward to help their brother in arms, and the halfling and the elf fired magic and bullets from a distance, so that only the wielder of the Chains could get into melee with Jan.

Human and Titanspawn were locked in a deadly battle. Jan tried to keep calm like he was tought, but the fiend screamed, showing his huge jaws, and he slashed at his enemy with an unearthly fury. Jan used an opening of his enemie’s defense and struck him with his sword. But even though his blow should have been lethal, the Charfiend didn’t fall. It looked as if only his hatred kept him from dying, and he struck down the Paladin, who fell to the ground bleeding.

The leader then charged the freestanding halfling, hitting him square on the dead, and Ben fell down, unconcious.

Now, only Torn and Trepat were left standing, and even though they had by now defeated all their enemies but one, and Nutkin had taken care of Niklas’s wound, they were shocked to see the leader turn to them. The charfiend growled like a lion and started to run towards them and… collapsed, dead. Even his hatred could only carry him so far, and at last his injuries took their toll.

Now, Torn smahed the skull of the last of the fiends with his morningstar, and then, the two of them and the squirrel took care of the wounded.

On the next morning, the squirrel healed Ben and together and with the help of the Paladin, they used their combined divine powers to make the wounds of last days battle disappear. Then they went back to the ruin. In the tower, they found a secret door leading to an ancient basement. There, ontop of an old cold forge was a little flame. As they went closer to it, they saw that it had the form of a little man.

Jan said: “Hello”, and the answer of the little entity came immediately: The paladin’s armor turned red hot.

Jan screamed in pain and ran for the ladder leading up, but the heat remained, and he tried to undo his scalemail, as Niklas poured the content of his waterskin over the armor. At the same time, Torn remembered the dream and poured water over the flame-man, extinguishing it.

Ever since the castle had been abandoned centuries ago, the ghost of the forge had remained, angry at the humans who had left him there. Then, when a few weeks ago, eight charfiends had come out of their subterran home. They discovered the spirit, and worshipped it, seeing in it the destructive force they admired. They had fed the spirit and had the heroes not intervened, they would have probably torched down all of the forest in the summer. There is nothing a charfiend loves more then life destroyed in fire. And the inhabitants of the forest would have been just enough victims to a fire to please those perverted creatures.

Nutkin told Ben that subterran creatures had told him that the old mine lead to seemingly endless tunnels. And so the  monk, the elf and the Paladin started to block up the entrance of the old mine and Ben and Torn went to explore the old mainbuilding.

The Charfiends had used it to lair in there, but they had never dared to climb right under the roof. The supporting pillars there were charred and weakened by the passage of time. Still, Torn took the challenge, and nimbly like a cat, he balanced over the supporting beams to where he saw an old chest. Quickly, he unlocked it, and in it, he found old coins and a wand.

As he just went back a few steps, the beam he was walking on broke, and he fell one storey. Fortunately, he was able to turn while falling, softening his fall- living on the streets for years had tought him to survive.

The group stayed for a few more days in the wood, and Nutkin made sure that there were enough berries, nuts and mushrooms for them. They blocked up the old mine and Trepat identified the wand as a wand that was used to cure wounds.

Then, they marched on, and the squirrel accompanied them to the edge of the forest, where they said goodbye to each other.

For a few more days, they wandered through hills, until they reached Weddafurt, a village that was close to the pass through the Kelders, towards which they were heading. They took a hearty meal, and went to bed in “the happy boar”, the only inn there.

On the next morning, a woman, one of the traders who stayed at the same inn, came down into the mainroom, screaming hysterically.

”My husband! He’s dead!”

Jan and Torn were in the room, eating breakfast at that moment. They ran up the stairs, and saw the dead trader. It looked as if he had aged years in the last 12 hours, since they had seen him in the dining room. His hair was grey, his cheeks had fallen in, and his lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling with a look of mortal fear while his mouth was wide open in a toneless, eternal scream.


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## Olidammara

Squirrels rock!


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## Horacio

I didn't know Nutkin was able to cast Divine Magic 

Great update!


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## Nightfall

Well he IS a Herald of Denev. So casting healing/divine magics DOES make sense.  Especially to aid those trying to rid the land of titanspawn/disruptive unnatural elements. Btw, I have to say I'm VERY stoke with the way Lars and his crew is going about this.


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## Lars Frehse

*Thanks, and some background stats of my campaign*

Thank you guys!

I used the "Herald of Denev" template from "the divine and the defeated" on the squirrel as printed in one of the Dragons. (Thanks to Nutkin for pointing me towards the article.).

Here are his actual stats:

*Squirrel Nutkin, Herald of Denev, the Earth Mother

CR --; Diminutive Outsiderl; HD d10; hp 12; Init +5 (Dex); Spd 15 ft., climb 22 ft.; AC 24 (+5 natural, +4 size, +5 Dex); Atk +2, Damage: d4-3, SQ: Scent, Aura of Denev, Blindsight, Damage Reduction 20/+2, Fast Healing 10, Immunities, Lowlight Vision, Resistance to Energy (10 against cold, electricity and fire), Spell like abilities, Spell Resistance 20, Tongue of the wild; Face 1 ft. by 1 ft.; Reach 0 ft.; SV Fort +4, Ref +7, Will +3; Str 4, Dex 20, Con 15, Int 10, Wis 16, Cha 20. 
Skills: Animal Empathy: 13, Balance: 14, Climb: 14, Concentration: 12, Diplomacy: 10, Handle Animal 14, Heal: 13, Hide: 27, Intuit Direction: 13, Jump: 15, Knowledge Nature: 15, Listen: 8, Move Silently: 27, Scry: 5, Search: 5, Sense Motive: 8, Spellcraft: 5, Spot: 13, Swim: 5, Wilderness Lore: 18

Feats: Alertness, Combat Casting, Dodge, Endurance, Mobility, Multiattack, Run, Spring Attack, Track
*

His spell like abilities include things like the ability to cast cure moderate wounds once per day and cure light wounds three times per day like a Druid of 10th level. 
I also gave him some "cure minor wounds" orisons, so that he could stabilize the downed characters.

Both types of critters, the Charfiends and the forgewight, are from the first Monster Manual by Sword and Sorcery.


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## Nightfall

Just curious Lars, but any chance you'll try out maybe a swarm of blood flies, (CC2), or perhaps blade beast or two? I'm trying to keep the CRs for them low and/or at least reasonable.


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## Nightfall

Yes this a bump but only cause I like this story!


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## Lars Frehse

Thank you!
I am writing the next installment right now, and I think I will be able to post the first half of it tomorrow, so that I will have all of it posted by Saturday.

The title will be "Father Figure" and in it our heroes will try to solve the horrible death of a merchant.

Will they succeed? Soo you will know!


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## Piratecat

I can't wait!


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## Lars Frehse

*Fatherfigure*

Torn turned to the woman and gave her all the comfort he could as Lorian, the lord of the village entered the room. He was a good looking Half Elf who’s face kept it's calm as he looked at the terrifying sight of the withered corpse.

After a few seconds he turned to Jan: "Paladin, may I talk to you in private?"

"Of course, Sir.", Jan answered.

The big innkeeper opened an empty room for them, and once they had entered and were by themselves, Lorian turned to Jan:" I am honored to make your aquaintance, Paladin, even though I would have wished for a happier occasion. My name is Lorian and I am the lord of this village and the lands that surround it.
"I am worried about the death of that merchant. I am aware that a mundane cause of his death seems unlikely. And if the cause was supernatural, or violent in any form, I want to know what had caused it- and make sure that it won't happen again. This village, we call it Weddafurt, is not used to things like that. We may be a bit backwards here, but at least we have always had a comodity that is rare in most of Ghelspad: Peace. I think it is no accident that in a dark hour like this, a champion of Corean and his noble friends found
their way here. Please help us.".

"Sure", Jan answered: "But I can not speak in the name of my friends, so even though you can count on my help, I would have tospeak to them first."

Lorian of Weddafurt nodded in agreement:" Sure, do what you must. I will be back in a few minutes, so you have time to talk to your friends first."

The half elf left, and Jan walked back into the room with the corpse. By now, Vasili Petorn, the big innkeeper had lead the widow into a seperate room, and still the room was crowded. All of the heroes stood there, speculating about the cause of death, and Tore Krofak, the local Hedrada priest, was performing a ritual enbalment. Jan told them about the lord's offer, and after some debate, and Lorian's offer of a paper that was worth 200 gold pieces at the local merchant, all of them agreed to solve the case.

Torn and Ben examined the body and Ben said: "One thing is clear- there are no natural herbs or diseases that could have done that."

"Neither any poison I know of", added Torn.

They undressed the body. Culan Hayworth had been a big man in life, but whatever had caused his death had made some of his fat disappear. His grey skin was cold to the touch- much colder then the air of the room, and there was no visible wound. His dead eyes were
bloodshot and his mouth stood wide open.

While the others examined the body, Ben talked to the widow, Tari Hayworth.

"I hope you don't mind if I ask you some questions.".

She waved her hand and wiped some tears away with her  handkerchief: "No, no, it's alright. Go ahead."

"First, I have to know whether you have any enemies you know of.".

She seemed genuinely surprised:" No, why should we?"

"Well, could you tell me what you are trading with?"

"We are delivering medical herbs and spices from Durrover to Burok Torn and buying gems and art there. Usually, we are travelling light in order to bypass the Calastian siege. That is
easier done with two horses then with a wagon full of goods."

Ben knew about Burok Thorn, of course. The city of dwarves was one of Durrover's allies in their struggle against the juggernaut,that was the Calastian empire. Even though the Calastians had conquered the major surface pass to it over 60 years before, the
dwarves were still defiant in the face of an overwhelming opposition.
But since Irontooth pass was held by the enemy, traders and travellers had to use ways through the kelders which were much more hazardous then the Irontooth used to be. Not only was there still Titanspawn lairing in the Kelders and praying on unwary travelers, but the land itself was dangerous. Landslides, falling rocks or avalanches were but a few of the dangers there.

”Do you think that your goods could be of such importance that the Calastians could want to see you dead?”, Ben asked.

“No, I don’t think so. We may be from Durrover and trading with their enemy, but we are surely too insignificant to be noticed.

“ Have you noticed anything unusual about your husband lately? Did he seem anxious or maybe he wasn't feeling good?"

"No, nothing I remembered", she mused. Then something came to her mind:" Wait! Last night, we had already been staying at that inn,he had a horrible nightmare. He told me the next morning that he had dreamt of our son, Jerole..."

Her voice fainted and she stopped talking. When she didn't continue Ben asked: "Is something wrong?"

The widow was now fighting to hold her tears back:" Jerole, our son, he was our only son and after his birth, the midwife told me that I would never have a child again. When he was four, there was an epidemy in Durrover, and he died. "Last night, my husband had a nightmare about him. He told me that in his dream, he felt a loneliness and desperation that was unbearable…”

Now it was too much for her. She let her tears flow freely and Ben stayed to comfort her.

During the day, the group split. But there were no tracks under the window of the Hayworth's sleeping room, and none of the villagers theyspoke to remembered anything similar in the history of Weddafurt. 
Tore Krofak, the priest of Hedrada had taken the body into the church of the eight gods and the Earth mother, since the burial was planned for the next day. But, as he explained to Niklas the monk, he didn't know too much about the supernatural- he was just a lowly village priest who tried to do his best, so that the gods looked favorably upon Weddafurt.

During the night, the group decided that Ben and Torn would watch over the widow, who would spend one more night in the village, and the others would stay in the church. There, they sat in the main hall,which had statues of all the major gods in it. Here, cruel Belsameth
stood peacefully facing her peaceful sister Madriel and Vangal, the god of slaughter stood opposite of Corean, the paladin. And in thebeautiful colored glassdome of the curch, Denev, the eartmother looked down on the children which she had supported in the struggle with the other titans.

When it got dark, Tore Krofak lit up the candles, and then retreated to a little room in the back of the church where he went to sleep. In the meantime, Ben and his dog sat in Rita Hayworth's sleeping room while Torn slept in the neighboring chamber. While the widow was sleeping, Ben sat and watched. Minutes crawled by, and soon each minute felt like an hour. Through a little window, starlight illuminated the room a little, and after a while, the moon rose and filled the room with it's pale light.

Ben was nodding off, when all of a sudden his dog started to growl. The incarnate jerked awake and looked down at his dog who’s hair was standing up. He followed the dog’s gaze, and there, next to the bed, he saw the transparent shape of a little boy with short, unruly hair and a sad face. The clothes of the child were rags and he looked at the empty part of the bed with a puzzled expression.

Ben held his breath. The ghost turned around and looked at Ben for a short while, and the halfling tried to catch it’s attention by waving at him, but already the transparent boy turned towards the wall at the head of the bed and walked right through it, as if there was no barrier at all.

Ben jumped up, and knocked against the wall of the room in which Torn was sleeping lightly, waking both the Half Orc and the widow in the process. He jumped up and ran to the door of the room which the ghost had entered. Finding it locked, he hammered against the door with his little fists. Shortly afterward, his hammering was answered by a panicked scream.

Just as Torn was about to throw his weight against the door, it was opened from the inside, and a sweat covered and redfaced overweight merchant in nightie stood in the door:” There, there, there… There was a ghost!”, he stammered.

“What did he look like, what did he do?”, both Torn and Ben asked him at once.

“He looked like a little boy, and I must have had a bad dream, but then there was this noise at the door, and there, next to me in my bed, there was a ghost! I was face to face with him, and his eyes were just a few inches away from mine!”

Torn pressed on, fearing the man could give in to his panic soon: “And that dream you had- did it make you feel lonely and desperate?”.

The merchant was surprised: “Why, yes, that is what I felt like.”

By now, the corridor had filled up with lodgers and the Innkeepers who had been woken up by the noise.

After sending the lodgers back to bed, Torn and Ben took the Innkeeper aside.

They explained to him what had happened, but the Innkeeper was as surprised as they themselves. He had heard stories about ghosts, but certainly, there have never been any in this village. But when Ben described the ghost to him, Vasili Petorn said:” Hmmmm. How odd. He looks exactly like the son of the witch upstream.”

“What!?”, Ben exploded:” You have a witch here, and you tell us only now?!”

Vasili Petorn was surprised by the outburst: “Why, I didn’t think it would be important. She is just a woman that was banned from the village society and who tries to make a living on here own.”

”Then why do you call her a witch?”

“Everybody does. Her name is Sara Lanka. She was born with six fingers to each hand, which was interpreted as a sign or Mormo the witch. She lives a miserable life upstream and can’t enter the village. But I don’t think that she is really a witch… Just a victim to some of the more superstitious villagers.”.

“And she has a son?”

“Yes, he was born three years ago. Poor lad, having no friends to play with. I sometimes give them some flour or salt to help them.”

Vasili told them, that in order to get to Sara’s cottage, they would have to walk upstream for about half a mile, and they decided to try that in the morning. Torn then continued the watch in the widow’s room and the frightened merchant left, swearing to never come back to this ghosthouse. Apart from that, nothing happened that night.

On the next morning,  our heroes met for a hearty breakfast. Ben and Torn told the others what had happened, and soon it was decided that Ben and Jan would go to speak to the so called witch. They didn’t want to frighten her by going there together. Five foreigners could be considered bad news by a lonely living woman. 

Jan and Ben walked along the Wedda while their friends waited at the inn. The sun was shining and the clean air and the fresh smell of springtime almost made them forget that just one night ago, a man had died a horrible death.


… to be continued.


----------



## Nightfall

As always Lars, this keeps getting BETTER and BETTER.  Possible half-hag?


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## Horacio

As Nightfall said, better and better!
I want more


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## Lars Frehse

*Father Figure part 2 (of 3)*

The lodge itself was wedged between a small forest and the riverbank. It was rather small, only ten by ten foot, and in front of it, there was a small garden for herbs and vegetables. On one of the walls stood a little external fireplace with a kettle hanging over it. Obviously the hut was too small to accommodate such luxury as an oven.

As they walked up to it, they saw that the door was barred from the outside with a wooden plank and the garden seemed abandoned. Ben sat down, and seeing that the plants looked as if the last time they had gotten water must have been during the last rainshower a week ago, he started to take care of them, getting water from the river. After a short debate whether or not to enter, Jan decided to take the risk and invade the woman’s privacy.

He entered the hut. There were two beds, the smaller one probably being for the son, a wooden chest with a lock and boards on the wall. A quick inspection revealed that the earthen pots on the boards had flour, salt and dried vegetables in them. Except for the bed and the chest, everything in here was self made by crafty yet unprofessional hands. Jan walked around the hut, and checked the ashes of the fireplace. It looked as if there hadn’t been a fire in a while.

Ben and Jan decided that since it looked as if neither mother nor son had been to the hut in while, it would be good to get the other ones. So, Jan went back to the Inn and Ben took care of the garden and the flowers, in case the woman would return.

Torn the half orc didn’t wait for an invitation, once he arrived at the hut. Expertly he opened the lock of the chest with his locksmith tools and found, to their mutual surprise, beautiful dresses. Some of them were obviously tailored to arouse and all of them were well crafted from expensive materials, which made them look out of place in this poor hut. How was this woman able to afford such dresses when she had to beg for a cup of flour?

Again, they decided to split. Jan and his brother Niklas would talk to the innkeeper, while the others would go to Hayworth’s burial.

Jan found the innkeeper preparing lunch:” Good man, may I ask you some questions again?”

”Yes, yes, go ahead!”.

”We went to Sara Lanka’s hut today, but it looks as if she wouldn’t have been there for a while. She must have been gone since the last rain at least.”.

Vasili looked genuinely worried: “Oh, dear. I hope nothing happened to her. But now that you mention it, yes, it has been a while since I saw her for the last time.”.

“What surprised us is that she had some beautiful dresses in a chest. We think they are worth many gold pieces.”.

”Are you sure? She is such a poor woman… Also, she can’t go to the village’s merchant… That is mysterious.”.

Niklas asked the next question:” Do you know how the father of her child is?”

“I don’t know. Some passing trader, I think. You know, I started giving food and other things to her, when I saw her selling her body for a few copper pieces to one of my guests. Poor thing. Then, four years ago, she got pregnant. So, I think that it was probably somebody who passed through and gave her a few coins in exchange for hollow pleasures…

“Please don’t mention this to any one, but secretly I worship Madriel. As a businessman, it would kill me if too many people would find out, since being compassionate and caring can be considered a weakness that some may want to exploit. Anyway, I tried to do my best to help her, and three years ago, when she gave birth, I gave her food and other things necessary to survive. But no fancy dresses. I sure hope nothing bad happened to her.”.

“Could you tell us who is the eldest man or woman here, who knows all the gossip and knows about Sara”, Jan inquired.

“Well, there is my mother in law, old Jule. You can talk to her.”

And after he memorized the way to her house, he went to her place and Niklas went to the cemetary, just in time to join the ceremony.

As the casket was set into the earth, the priest held a sermon. The lord of the village, the innkeeper and his family and the heroes were there and spoke their condolensces to the widow, who took her horses and rode away to Burok Torn right afterwards.

When they were alone, Niklas asked the priest what he knew about Sara.

“The witch? Well, she lives upriver with a little boy, as far as I know.”

”And you never contacted her on your own account?”

The fat priest got agitated: “Why should I? It is my duty to offer spiritual counseling to those who come to me. I am not here to convert anyone. After all, I am serving all gods here.”.

“I see. And she never came to you?”, Niklas asked.

“No. Apart from that, if I would have ever had evidence that she really is a servant of  Mormo, I would have had to inform the mainchuch anyway. I am not strong enough to battle the agents of the Titans, and this would be a job for an Inquisitor, anyway.”.

Niklas nodded. His master too had once been an Inquisitor: “Hmmm. And is she local?”

“Yes. She was born here, as far as I know. I only came here six years ago, and by that time, her parents had been long dead.”.

Niklas thanked him and went to look at the modest tombstone of the Lankas, Sara’s parents.

In the meantime, Jan sat in the dining room of the inkeeper’s mother in law, and listened to her endless ranting on the wickedness of Sara Lanka, her devilspawn, as she called little Sasou and on how the newly arrived half orc in town would certainly steal everything, commit murder and molest defenseless old women like herself. (Even though she didn’t seem to object to the prospect of being molested quite as much as she should.). She then continued to tell Jan, who tried to stay polite, just how she wanted the witch to die: First on the wheel, and then the witch should be burnt in a way that she wouldn’t suffocate first. Hours later the sun went down and he was able to go back to the inn.

There, Ben had exciting news for them:” I know who bought the dresses. I bribed the trader in town, and he told me that he sold those arousing fancy dresses to the priest!”

Now, Jan remembered something: “Well, the old woman I talked to was quite mad, but she did say that she likes to take long walks at night. I think she is just snooping around. Anyway, she told me that she has seen Sara sneak into the priest’s house at night at several occasions.”.

Trepat said: “Well, if he had an affair with her, and it was his son, maybe he killed them… Probably a love affair with a witch wouldn’t reflect too well with him. And the little boy is dead and is indeed a ghost now… But why is he here in the inn?”

“We should confront him in the morning”, Torn offered. “Tonight, I will keep an eye on the priest. ”.

Torn left the Inn, and the others prepared for another night watch. Maybe they could contact the spirit of the little boy this time.

As Torn entered the church, the priest welcomed him and then went into meditation for an hour. Afterwards, he went into his little room and stayed there all night, for all Torn could tell.

The moon rised, and again, the ghost appeared. Now Niklas, Trepat and Jan saw the ghost, too. But again, the boy ignored them and walked through the wall. In the next room, which was empty, he turned around and went through the rooms until he reached the stairway, ignoring a sleeping half elven couple on the way.

The men followed him through the empty rooms. They opened the door to the half elves who slept soundly and then followed the ghost downstairs. There, he walked through the door of the Innkeepers sleeping room, from where they heard loud snoring.

Niklas opened the door silently, and saw the Innkeeper and his wife sleeping. They were both snoring in concert. The boy now walked up to the bed, lifted the blanket and cuddled himself against the obese shape of Vasili Petorn.

All of a sudden, the snoring stopped. Beads of sweat appeared on the Innkeeper’s paling face , and his breath was irregular. Ben shouted :”Wake up!”, and man and wife did wake up with a confused look on their face.

The ghost of the boy in turn, now jumped on the floor, and stomped with his little right foot, obviously angry. With a gesture of his hand, he made a plate, a heavy book and a mug that stood at the nighttable, flew at Ben and Niklas, who stood in the door. The mug hit Niklas square on the head, creating a bleeding wound on his forehead, as the two of them charged into the room.


… to be continued


----------



## Lars Frehse

I hope I will be able to finish this chapter by tonight. After all, tomorrow we will play again, which means that a new chapter is coming up.
Again, I want to thank you guys for all your encouraging comments. 

And now back to the soccer game, and then back to writing.


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## Calaveth

Good work, as usual.


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## Lars Frehse

*Fatherfigure (part 3 of 3)*

Niklas ushered the Petorns out of bed, and Ben enchanted the monk’s fists, so that they took on a green glow. The ghost was still angry, and with his next gesture, he toppled over the large cupboard, which crashed on Niklas.

Niklas now turned around, and tried to punch the ghost, but his fists, even though they were enchanted, pushed through him. Ben used his divine magic to cure Niklas’s wound, as the boy turned around, and left through a wall.

They ran outside, but the ghost was nowwhere to be found.

The Petorns were up and about now and cooked a big pot of tea for them and the young men. After he had eaten some bread, Vasili said: “One thing is for sure. That was little Sasou.”

Now, if the ghost was really little Sasou, what had happened to the boy? They debated what to do next, and came to a conclusion: They would not tell the priest about what they had found out just yet. Instead, they would ask him to come over next night in order to attempt to use his powers against the undead. Then, they would see how Sasou would react when he saw who was supposedly his father.
That seemed like a logical reason for the boy to attach to fat men: He wanted to be with his father. And from what they had seen, they gathered, that the boy wasn’t even acting in order to take revenge. It much more looked like he needed a father to cuddle with and forget his loneliness… Only that this unnatural sadness and desperation was enough to kill a mortal man who was in contact with it for too long.

The next morning, Ben and Niklas went to the church and told the priest that they would like to have him in the inn at night. Krofek agreed and so they went back to the inn, leaving Torn behind in order to keep an eye on the church.

Around noon, some of them were just having lunch, a farmer walked into the inn and said to the Innkeeper:” Vasili, do you have any idea where the priest is? He sure ain’t in his church!”.

Right away they jumped up and ran to Torn, who sat in front of the church, eating bread with sausage and drinking wine. He told them he saw a farmer going in and out of the church, but no priest.

They went into the church and looked for a secret passage, but found none. But a quick search revealed, that there was an empty wallsafe- Krofak seemed to have taken the church’s money. Next, they walked around the church to his house, which they found locked. After Torn had opened the door they searched the house. It looked as if noone had been in there for at least a week. And really, now they remembered that for some unknown reason, the priest had always slept in the church itself.

In the basement, Trepat noticed that some of the pressed earth that the floor was made of seemed a little bit disturbed, as if someone had dug a hole and then tried to made the evidence disappear without quite succeeding. Fearing the worst, Torn grabbed the coal shovel and started digging. Soon, his shovel hit resistance, and he unearthed the body of a woman with six hands and a little boy with unruly hair.

Now, they ran back to the church, where Ben gave the priest’s robes to his dog who was supposed to pick up the scent. For a short wile, the dog was unable to pick up a trail. Just as it looked as if they would have to rely on other means to find the murderer, Trepat and Torn noticed how the statue of Belsameth, the slayer goddess, turned her head towards the dog. She gazed at the dog for a moment and then returned to her original position.

The beast’s eyes flared up and he picked up the trail. Now, fueled with the instincts of Belsameth, he had the senses of a bloodhound. He was heading down the road back south and Trepat and Niklas ran ahead in order to get horses from the lord’s mansion. Once on horse, they rode south, down the road, the dog running ahead with his nose close to the ground.

Then, as they had a part that led through a wood, they caught up with the killer. He was still half a mile ahead, as he seemingly completely disappeared. They galloped ahead, and as they reached the part of the road where they had last seen him, the dog turned right into the wood.

After a while, they reached a small stream, and now, at last, the dog lost the trail. After just a few words, two groups were made. Trepat and Jan went upstream and the others downstream.

He had just walked a few hundred yards, as Trepat saw a shape in a tree, about a hundred feet in the woods. He walked on, silently signaling Jan that he had seen the priest, and sent his speaking raven to the others.

The raven told them to catch up with it’s master, and soon the group was back together, but at the same time, Tore Krofak had understood that he was discovered. He cast a spell, and all of a sudden, all around the men, the air was filled with glitter dust. Jan and Torn were able to close their eyes in time, but the others were blinded by the sparkling dust.

Now, the fat killer jumped down the tree, as Torn and Jan charged into the woods. Here, the half orc was much faster, since his armor was lighter, and so he soon caught up with the priest, who turned around and shot balls of energy at Torn. The half orc was hit hard, but he was too tough to stop now, he ran after the man, hitting him with his mace.

Now, the fake priest ean further into the woods, but Torn kept close behind and Jan was closing in.

By now, the effect of the glitter dust had worn of, and Ben cast an entangle spell into the area from which he heard the noise. All, Paladin, Rogue and killer were caught by the grasping plants, and Torn finished him with his mace.

With him, they found a ring, which, as they later found out, made the true alignment of it’s bearer undetectable, a book of arcane spells and the church’s treasure. Not even Torn wanted to keep that one, though. Bringing down the wrath of the gods upon yourself wasn’t a wise decision in a world, in which the gods took such active interest in the lives of mortals.

They went back to Weddafurt with the body and explained everything to the lord. After giving them yet another paper that was worth goods at the local trader place, he thanked them thoroughly, and asked Ben and Jan, whether they could bury the dead and take care of the church for as long as the village waited for replacement.

They agreed and stayed in the village for two wonderfully uneventful weeks, until one crisp morning, Ilena Lohberg, a dwarven priestess of Madriel, arrived, and they were free to go. Among good cheer and waving they sat of to brave the Kelder mountains, which towered majestically in front of them.

But now, that our heroes are off to new adventures, let me remain here in Weddafurt for a short while. I would like to shed some light on the mysterious events that led to the appearance of the ghost in the first place.

Tore Krofak, priest of Hedrada, had been dead for six years already. He had been killed by an illusionist who wanted to take the comfy position of a village priest, since he had considered it wise to diappear for a while. He himself had gotten into trouble with an organization called “the scaled ones”. So he got rid of the priest and assumed his role. He used his arcane tricks to make a good impression, and occasionaly, he used potions and salves to perform “miracle healings”. Apart from that, he did his duties as well as he could, in order to keep the gods of his back, as he put it.

Then, two years later, he started an affair with Sara, who by the way, had never been a real witch. Sasou was born and they maintained their relationship for three more years. Then, one night, Sara made an ultimatum: Either he would marry her, or she would show the villagers that he was a sham.

“Tore” was in a fix- if he said yes, then the villagers would probably not support him and he would have to leave. But by now, he had gotten to feel rather comfortable in his position. If he said no, then his only option would have been to get the inquisition, who would surely have found out that he was not what he claimed to be.

So, he killed both of them. He smashed the head of his lover and suffocated his son, showing that men can be as cruel as titans.

But it wasn’t over then. One week later, the spirit of his son appeared, and the father fled to the church, knowing that undead can not enter sacred ground. So, the ghost searched, desperately, and went to the place where he sensed a lot of man. There, he found Hayworth the merchant, who resembled his father, and embraced him two nights in a row, killing him in the process.

And the rest you know already. At the end, he made himself invisible as he feared confronting the ghost of his son.

And now, you ask me, who _I_ am? Well, I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise, really. 
But let me say this much: I, like you are doing as well, am having an eye on the young heroes. And like some of you surely do, I too believe that they will play an important role in the fate of Ghelspad in the future. But for now, I prefer to stay in the shadow, and just watch…


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## Nightfall

Perhaps it's the mighty sage of the Scarred Lands, Yugman?  Btw LOVE this stuff Lars! Great stuff! A wizard impersonating a village priest, good stuff!


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## KidCthulhu

I was so upset when Yugman started taking on the "sage of the Scarred Lands" role.  I like the campaign world, and it needs an Elminster clone like it needs Spelljamming hippos.

Nice work, Lars.  I was going to do something similar to this in my campaign, and you beat me to it, dang you.


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## Nightfall

Well he's a sage, but unlike Elminster, he won't butt in unless it's something that affect him personally. Besides he's CN. That means he's got his own agenda no matter what.


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## Lars Frehse

Nightfall, the funny thing is that in a mail to Kid Cthulu, I used the same defense of Yugman: He is a sage and he is CN. That puts him into an alltogether different league then Elminster.


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## KidCthulhu

I know he's not E.  It's just when I see a sage get increasingly quoted in the reference materials, my Elminster alarm goes off.  I'll be the first to admit that I have something of a bee in my bonnet about Elminster, however.  I just hate that cult of personality thing, and hope it doesn't happen to Yugman.


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## Lars Frehse

KC, I see. You see, I have always been an Earthdawn fan, and what I liked most about the Earthdawn sourcebooks was that they were all written from the point of view of the Earthdawn universe.
So, naturally, I like elements like that in the Scarred Lands sourcebooks as well. It makes reading those books much more fun when they read as an account of an individual. You know, some of the Realms material always reminded me of the CIA world fact book, and like it, it was basically boring reading material.


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## Nightfall

Well that's understandable Kid. But I think what needs to be stated here, is that, like all the others in this book, Yugman ISN'T objective, or at least he's objective to a degree. He's not one to pass judgements on the rightness or wrongness of an act, like Elminster. He also won't put any stock in mortality or even ethics, except maybe about change. Regardless of that fact, even HIS perceptions of history are just that, perceptions, and not always perfectly accurate. He's accurate yes, but he's still just a powerful mortal. (At least I HOPE he's just that!)


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## Ancalagon

The writers will have to be carefull for him not to become as irritating as Elminster, but that sould be easy.

Anyway...

Very nice story Lars!  Clasical murder-gost mystery, and very well done!

Ancalagon


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## Lars Frehse

Glad you like it!
I will post the next update within this week.


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## Nightfall

Sweet!  I can't wait! I REALLY enjoy this story hour Lars! Btw, good luck with your fan site!


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## Lars Frehse

*Passing on part 1*

Passing on through


The men entered the river valley of the Dardale on a sunny morning. The river cut through the Kelders and the group walked along it's bank towards it source in the north.

Days passed peacefully, as the Kelders towered higher and higher to their left and right. The river was running strongly, since the spring sun had melted the snow in the mountains, and an 
occasional rain forced the travellers into the mountains, since the river was full enough to go over it's banks when the river had to carry the rainwater, as well.

Apart from that, it was a pleasant march. The sun was shining most of the times, the air was crisp and clean and in the evenings, there was usually plenty of fish for dinner. As the days passed, they were ready to forget the pain and horror the land had gone through during the titanwars and afterwards- here, nature and the world seemed at peace and in order.

It was on a sunny day like that, when the group marched along a rocky part of the riverbanks. Here, boulders that were taller than a man were laying on the beach as if a child of a giant had tossed them around in a violent rage. With the sun in their back, they walked along, as Ben, who was leading a mule on a leash, saw a glint of metal behind a big rock ahead of them. Squinting his eyes, the halfling was able to identify the tips of two blades.

Slowing his pace, he signaled to Trepat, who marched next to him, leading the other donkey of the party. The elf too saw the weapon tips, and in turn tapped lightly on Jan's shoulder, pointing at the rock. The young Paladin, who walked in front of them, now saw the blades, too and shouted: " In the name of Corean, show yourselves!".

Ben slapped his forehead, cursing under his breath, as something unexpected happened. While he, like the others, focused on the left and right side of the rock, a feline creature leaped straight over the boulder and charged at the Half Orc Torn, who had walked up front.

The creature that was now closing in with vicious speed looked like a panter that was made of obsidian. Sticking out of it's shining black back were swords and axes, their wicked blades protecting the beast's body in the way a hedgehog is protected by it's spikes.

Initially, the fearsome beast clawed away at it's chosen enemy, ripping open Torn’s leather armor and tearing into the flesh of his right shoulder. But already, the others came to his help. Jan swung his sword at the beast, but as he hit, he felt the blade being pulled into the predator! Fortunately, he was able to hold fast to his sword and free his blade. Now, from the other side Niklas approached the beast, and ignoring the blades that cut his fists, he punched at the cat.

Soon, they surrounded the beast, but the predator seemed to be tireless. Heedless of it's injuries, it struck down Torn and then shot one of the longswords in it's body at Trepat, who had been tormenting it with his magic missiles.

Eventually though, they managed to overcome the beast, surrounding it and overbearing it with their weapons and magic. The blade beast, as it was called, now lay still in front of them, and with it, another of Golthagga, the titan smith's, minions was defeated. Trepat cast a spell that enabled him to detect magic, and to their common surprise, he found that two of the longswords- the one that the beast had propelled out of it's body and another that was 
still stuck in it, had magical properties. So, they put those swords on their mules and after disposing of the body in the river, they marched on.

The scenery was beautiful, but after a few more days, some of our heroes would have wished to meet others of the divine races. While Ben and Trepat were enjoying the calm, the humans and the half orc were getting restless and wished for some faces other then their own to talk to.

But all they encountered were mountaingoats and other animals that were at home in a mountain range. At least fresh water was no issue, but the river valley, that had been wide and sandy close to the sea, got ever narrower and rockier, the farther they marched on.

A week after the encounter with the bladebeast, there was merely 20 feet of riverbank left. To the right of them, the Dardale river was turbulent. Here, the valley was rather small and shallow, so that the water was racing past, tearing everything that fell into it along in a mad rush down to the ocean. To the left, the rock was forming a sheer wall of 10 feet height that seperated the banks from a plateau.

Jan and Torn were sunken in conversation, as they walked along that area, as all of a sudden a rock fell down on them. Both reacted quick enough- the one protected by his faith and the other by years of living on the street and watched the rock bounce past them into the river, as several creatures jumped screaming down the plateau.

They were Sargons. Fierce and merciless, these skinny greyskinned humanoids had forsaken the trappings of civilization centuries ago and were now  nothing more then cruel bipedal animals. They were naked and almost indistinguishable, since they had no visible sexual organs or individual characteristics to distinguish them.

All of them had long, strong fingernails, which were about as long as their forearms, so that they were forced to either lift their arms up or drag the claws over the floor.

Now, they attacked the group, craving the one thing the heroes had to offer them: fresh meat. And there is only one thing a Sargon likes better then fresh meat: the fresh meat of a member of the divine races. The Sargons were everywhere. Soon, they had the heroes surrounded, and were slashing with their long curved claws at their opponents.

Fortunately, they weren't wearing any armor, nor was their grey skin especially thick, so that Torn Jan and Niklas were able to score some good hits, and when they hit, they usually killed with one blow against the Sargon's unprotected heads and bodies.

But there were eight of the Sargons, and they knew how to wield their vicious claws, so that for a long time, the battle raged evenly, until the remaining four titanspawn overcame Ben and Torn. Now, the situation was dire. Trepat, Niklas and Jan had received wounds from the Sargons as well by now, and even though Jan smashed another skull of one of their attackers, another Sargon bypassed Jan's shield, cutting him deeply over the face, slashing open a deep bleeding wound and knocking the Paladin out cold.

The Sargon turned to face the monk and the sorcerer who were still left standing, as out of nowwhere a raven who seemed to have a body made of shadow dived down on the creature and attacked him. 
He hit with his beak, and under the skin of the Sargon, expanding through his vein, there was shadow. The titanspawn looked down in horror, as he saw this dark web reach for his heart. Then, as the shadowpoison reached his heart, he dropped dead.

Niklas now used the momentary panic of the two remaining Sargons and kicked one in the face, breaking the spine, and Trepat, having used all his arcane might for the day, shot an arrow at the other one, hitting his heart.

The raven, in turn, flew up and disappeared again.


To be continued…


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## Nightfall

Nice! A Blade beast AND some Sargons. Btw, that might have been a little TOO many Sargons there Lars. Five or six would have worked out fine. But I'm glad the Valraven/Shadow raven appeared. Guess even Golthain's minions can help out on occasion!


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## Lars Frehse

*Chapter 5 / Part Two - Passing on through*

Only the two of them still standing, they warily prepared camp. Niklas was carrying a potion of healing with him, but that one potion had already cost them a good part of the reward that they had received in Weddafurt. So, after a short debate, they decided to keep it for an emergency.

After they had made certain, that their brothers in arms were resting well and after they had disposed the Sagons in the running river, they prepared for nightfall. Darkness came swiftly in the mountains and Trepat took the first watch as Niklas layed down to get some sleep.

Hours inched by and the elf stared at the small fire they had built, as all of a sudden his sharp ears picked up bird cries. He stood up and turned his head- when the Sagons had attacked earlier, they too had been using animal sounds to communicate.

Instantly, he was over Niklas and shook him. Now, the monk too heard the sounds over the noise of the river and gave the potion of healing to Ben the Druid. As Ben regained conciousness, he didn't need much instructions. He used the wand that they had found when they had helped Squirrel Nutkin to heal the others.

Now, each of them stood up with readied weapons, and as Trepat heard the fiends approaching, he blindly cast a sleep spell to the area where he expected the Sagons to be. A moment passed an then the birdcalls were substituted by angry growling and screaming, and again Sagons came down upon them.

This time, though, our heroes were prepared. They slashed at the Sagons the moment one of them jumped down, and succeeded in hacking down two of them before the actual fight started. If it was possible, then the Sagons were even more ferocious now,  and everyone was locked in a deadly battle as again out of nowwhere the shadowraven appeared.

But after a while, their discipline gained the upper hand against the Sagon's wildness and Torn climbed up the wall to the plateau, were he saw two Sagons which had been put to sleep by Trepat's spell. Without much fuzz, he smashed their skulls with his mace and then tossed the bodies into the river.

Back down with the others, Ben told them what he knew about the raven that had helped them:" They are called shadowravens. Another name for them is "Eyes of Golthain", but I have never heard about them helping travellers.".

"You mean the titan Golthain?", asked Jan.

"Yes, exactly. The only titan who accepted redemption by Madriel and is thought to be truly dead. What I know is that he seems to be a titan who was able to be compassionate, and the other titans, except for Denev, of course, punished him harshly. They took all his senses from him.

"So, he made certain creatures his ears and eyes. Those ravens made out of shadow used to be his eyes, when he was still alive".

Jan scratched his red beard:"Odd. Anyway, I think I want to go and see whether there are more of these demons in the hills tomorrow. Will you come with me?"

They all voiced their consent and put up new watches.

The rest of the night was uneventfull, and on the next day, the sun was shining as brightly as every, illuminating ugly spots of blood and gore on the rocky floor where the party had camped. Cautiously, they climbed up to the plateau and marched towards the entrance of a cavern they saw ahead.

Close to the mouth of the cave, Torn volunteered to scout ahead. Cautiously and nearly soundless he moved ahead and peeked into the cave, from which a smell of feces attacked his nose. All he saw was one big natural cavern. There were eighteen spots with mosses and shrubs that could have been used as sleeping places for the sagons, and  in the middle of it there were countless bones, neatly piled up into a small pyramid.

Since the cave appeared empty, the others entered as well, shuddering at the ghastly sight of the bone pyramid. Several bones and skulls of humanoids and beasts of burden were piled up. And for whatever reason the Sagons had built this bone pyramid, these seemed to be the only remnants of their victims the Sagons had kept- there were no traces of coins, clothing or equipment to be found.

As Trepat walked around the ebonycolored monument to the Sagon's primitive cruelty, there was something he saw from the corner of his eye: A thin long fissure in the wall at the back of the cave. Walking over, he now saw that the line marked a rectangular, doorlike form.

He called for Torn, who examined the secret door, and after considering it safe, he pushed it open. The door circled around it's axis in the middle, opening a doorway, and under him, a trapdoor opened up, making him fall into a 20 feet deep shaft. Torn was able to utter a short shout of surprise, before he smashed on the ground, breaking his leg and loosing conciousness.

After the group had evacuated their unconcious friend and healed him, they walked into the dark passageway.

There was no sign that the Sagons had ever discovered this secret passageway. Whereas the cave had been filled with old feces and other "signs" of their inhabitants, this straight rectangular passageway was clean, alas the air smelled a little bit old and stale. It ended in front of a stone door, which, in spite of it's heavy built, offered hardly any resistance when pushed open.
Now they entered an empty rectangular room. Like the corridor it was an artificial structure, and the light of their lamps illuminated drawings on the wall which most likely depicted the creators of these halls.

The humanoids shown were not of any race known to the heroes. They seemed taller and thinner than humans, and they had long necks. Their heads appeared to be long and hairless, while their foreheads were wrinkled in a way that looked as if the skull itself had a wrinkled structure. They were clad in ornamental clothing and their facial expression appeared cold and haughty.

Beneath the pictures, there were strange signs, possible the writings of the humanoids. Trepat tried to use magic on them in order to decipher the symbols, but it felt as if their meaning was slipping away from him.

Now, they explored the rest of the structure and found three similar rooms, all empty except for the paintings and some stone chairs and one closed door. After some searching, Torn discovered a small plate-trigger. He pushed the trigger and the door slid upwards, disappearing into the wall.

Now, from behind a short corridor, and unearthly light shone at them. They walked towards it and entered a huge room, 90 feet long and 40 feet high. On the wall opposite of the entrance, there were faintly glowing pictures and symbols covering the entire wall. The strangest thing about it was that some of the symbols were moving, flashing or changing.

On the left half of the wall, there were collums of symbols which looked like the writings in the previous room which slowly moved upward in an endless stream. Every now and then, a symbol appeared, showing strange and unknown objects.

To the right, there was a big picture of...

"The solar system", Trepat said.

He now recognized it from his studies of arcane knowledge:" You see, there, in the middle, that is the sun. The small dots on the circles are the planets. The third dot is Scarn, and you can even see the twin moons circling around our world.".

He cast a spell and then continued:"Well, this moving picture is magical, alas that is no spell I have ever heard of. And those beasts there", he pointed to the upper left and right corner:"are dragons. All I know about them is that they were supposed to breath fire and they had the habit of stealing virgins. Fairy tales, mostly. But they were wiped out in the titanswar.".

Torn stood a few feet behind the elf, listening to his explanations and looking at the wall. As he gazed at Trepat again, he saw something strange in the pale light that the wall produced: Trepat's shadow didn't look like an elf shadow anymore...

His shadow looked like the shadow one of the humanoids on the pictures would have. He tapped on Jan's shoulder, putting his index and middle finger over his lips, thus signaling him to remain silent, and then pointed at the strange shadow.

Jan saw the shadow too, and heeding the Half Orc's advice, he signaled to Ben, pointing at the shadow.

Ben held a lantern himself, so his eyes weren't well enough adopted to the darkness. Seeing nothing, he asked: "What?"

Jan whispered:"There, Look at Trepat's shadow!".

Ben looked again, but still seeing nothing, he asked: "What do you mean?"

And indeed, now Trepat's shadow looked just fine, and there was no sign of the strange form left.

Suspiciously glancing around, they turned to leave and return to their mountain path, since it didn't look as if there was much left for them to do there. Looking back to the illuminated wall one last time, Jan saw a little dot moving away from the innermost planet. Turning back, he watched it moving to the second planet and then disappear. Shrugging he followed the rest.

As they walked back through the underground structure, Trepat now saw the strange shadow that Torn had described to him earlier attached to Jan's body. He nudged Torn who, remembering the dream in which his father had told him to adopt his weapons according to the enemy, wouldn't let the opportunity slip away again. "Light, we need light!", he shouted, and he ignited one of his sunrods, which bathed the room in a white light.

The others followed his example, and this time the shadow leashed out with it's arm towards Jan, who in turn felt the strength being drained away from him. Now, they were over the shadow with their sunrods, and the shadow futively tried to wiggle out of the light's way, but without much success- whenever it was in the direct vicinity of one of the sunrods, it melted away a little. And even though each time the shadow hit one of the heroes with his arms, they felt their strength lessened, eventually though, the shadow had been dissolved by the light.

Now, the heroes ran out of the halls with the last strength in their legs, hoping to avoid other terrors of the kind they had just defeated. Once outside, the mountainair seemed clearer and fresher then ever.
Deciding to put as much space between themselves and the cave as possible, they set off and marched northwards till dusk.

Fortunately, the next days were uneventfull, until they reached a small dwarven fortification worked into a natural pass. Staring down from the walls were the faces of grim dwarven warriors.

At last, they had reached an outpost of the dwarven Kingdom, Burok Torn.


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## Nightfall

Sweet! Slacerians AND Vertigen! Or was that just Slacerians?


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Chapter 5- part 3*

After parlaying with the commander of the outpost, the dwarves opened the gate, and two dwarven warrior escorted them along a rocky path towards the halls of Burok Torn. Once inside the citadel, the heroes had the opportunity to behold the marvels of the dwarven city state- the 700 feet cascade being one of them.

One of the dwarven warriors now turned to him. His name was Tarek Borthammer and he was a rather young dwarf who so far had merely escorted them, answering their questions politely but with short and clipped sentences: “Good sirs. I would be honored if you would allow me to invite you to my family’s stronghold while you are staying here in Burok Torn. My father is a scholar who is interested in the world outside and the tales of travellers, and since you are stout warriors from our ally Durrover, some of you serving Corean none the less, we would all love to have you as our guest of honor.”.

Gratefully, they accepted, and Tarek lead them to a place at one of the great walls of the great hall, where he gently levitated upwards. Following in the dwarf’s footsteps, they followed him until they had reached a balcony where their ascent stopped and they were able to enter the stronghold.

Once inside, they were eyed curiously by other clan members and soon surrounded by  dwarven children, who were delighted to see such unusual creatures. The adventurers and their animals were after all the strangest sight of their young lives. Tarek lead them to two rooms that were connected by a door and told them to wait here while he announced their presence to his father.

The next day, they spent sightseeing, and in the evening, Varus Borthammer, rune master and elder of the Borthammer family, sat down for a lavish dinner with them. He was an old dwarf with wrinkles around his mouth and his eyes which made his face look as if this dwarf had smiled and laughed most of his life, so that the happiness was forever etched into his face.

”Welcome! Sit down, eat, drink and be merry, and while we will stuff ourselves, tell me about your travels.”.

Feeling at ease and comfortable, the heroes told him about their adventures so far, and the dwarf listened, commenting every now and then when he considered something to be truly remarkable.

When they had described the Sagons to him, he explained:” Ah, Sagons! There used to be some of their clans in the proximity of Burok Torn, once, too, but I think we have succeeded in wiping them out…

“I think they had a civilization, once before their master, whichever titan it was, fell. Ever since, they have decayed, though. Another theory, brought forward by Yugman the sage, is that they are some sort of Demon Spawn. Oh, but I didn’t want to interrupt you. Please carry on!”.

So, they went on to describe the strange underground structure they had found and the encounter with the fearsome shadow.

“Sounds like the Slarecians to me”, Varus explained.

None of them knew about the Slarecians, and they asked Varus to elaborate.

Now the dwarf smiled broadly, lit up a pipe and leaned back in his chair:” Ahhh… So you want to know about Slarecians…

“You know, I am a bit of a scholar myself. No Yugman, but on some fields I am rather knowledgeable. Still, there is more we don’t know about the Slarecians then what we know about them.

“The slarecians were wiped out by the titans and the gods before the divine war. It is unknown today what they had done to deserve getting wiped out by such a powerful alliance, but the fact is that they seem extinct.

“They lived in subterrean structures and seemed to be obsessed with death. Whether they were benign doctors or dark necromancers is unknown as well. Their writing is undecipherable, and there are only very few texts which don’t defy even magical means of translation.
Once, when I was still a young wizard, I ventured forward with a human friend of mine, and we explored some slarecian ruins. There, after struggling with ghouls, gargoyles and shadows of the kind you have described, we discovered a tome, which was written in a way, that we were actually able to translate it. It was supposed to give it’s student power over life and death, and it was called “The power of death”.

Now Torn was all ears. That was the book his father had told him about all those years ago:” What has happened to it?”.

“Oh, my human friend, Silian of Mullistown, took it with him. Then, some 40 years ago, it was stolen from him. From what Silian wrote me, the thief must have been great at his profession, since both mundane and magical means protected the book.”

Now Torn had to surpress a proud smile. Although he had never met his grandfather, he felt pride at a tradition of formidable rogues.

For the rest of the evening, they talked, and they stayed two more weeks in Burok Torn, since they decided to sell one of the magical blade, and among other things, purchase a plate mail for the paladin with the money gained from the transaction.

Then, after promising the Borthammers to come for another visit one of these days, they set of northwards, towards Adurn’s tear.

Coming up next- The serpent amphora


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## Lars Frehse

First, I have to apologize that it had been a while since the last update.
But either later tonight, or tomorrow, I will post the first part of the "Serpent Amphora" chapter.
So, for all those of you who are players in the Scarred Lands and who's DMs intend to run the adventure, themselves, here comes a big, fat:


*SPOILER!!!*


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## Lars Frehse

*The Serpent Amphora -part1*

Chapter 6- The serpent Amphora

After weeks in the dwarven citadel, all of them were happy to be back on the road again. They left the gates of Burok Torn behind and marched northwards.

For the next days, each mile they marched brought them a little higher in the mountains, and the air grew ever thinner, and in spite of the summer that had reached the valleys and the plains, here, so close to the stars, it was freezing at night.

At noon of their fifth day, they had reached the highest point of their journey. They were between two majestic mountains and to their north, miles below them,  Adurn's Tear was laying peacefully like a mirror in a frame made of rock. All of the heroes stared down intently, captured by the beauty of that sight. Not only was the view beautiful to behold, but it also showed, that the streinous journey through the Kelder mountains was finally drawing to an end.

Their revery was abruptly interrupted as a shriek echoed through the mountains. They looked upwards, and above them, they saw a reptilian predator diving down at them!

The beast had a long and toothy beak and leathery wings, and at the end of it's tail, there was a vicious tip. Niklas raised his glaive just in time to thrust it at the attacking beast. He missed it, and was hit by one claw and the tail. As the beast hovered for a moment, getting ready to fly up again, it was hit by one of Ben's bullets. Again, it shrieked loudly, deafening the heroes for a short while until it had risen beyond the reach of their bows and crossbows. There it used the updraft to circle over it's prey., lazily beating it's wings every now and then...

Meanwhile, the poison from the beast's tail had paralyzed Niklas who was now standing stiff as a statue. Fearing a return of the beast, the other ones kept their weapons, bows, crossbow and sling aimed at the sky, as Ben explained: "That predator is called a spirewyvern. It's poison paralyzes for some hours, but afterwards, Niklas should be fine. I am surprised it attacked us- it must be having young ones to attack a group of our size..."

Still aiming his Crossbow to the sky, Jan asked:"And, do you think it will come back?"

Ben shrugged:" I really don't know. Usually a spirewyvern waits for it's prey to be completely paralyzed... Now, in this case, our presence probably confuses it. After all, a flock of mountain goats would have run away in fear, leaving the victim of the initial attack behind. It really depends on how hungry it is...".

Then, anticipating the next question, Ben added: "And I really can't tell how hungry it is from looking at it!".

They were still debating as the Spirewyvern decided to give an answer itself by diving down at them again.

As soon as it was in range, they shot their missiles at it, but only a bullet hit and before they could shoot again, it was already over Bristian, one of their mules. Again, it used it's sting on the poor beast of burden, which was screaming in terror, and dodging yet another volley of missiles, it flew up again.

Again, it circled high above them, and Jan, annoyed by the hit and run tactic the beast had used so far, walked away from the group, banging his sword against his shield and shouting up to it, all the while. Seeing one of it's prey seperate from the group, the spirewyvern dove down again. This time, an arrow and a bolt hit the creature in the body, and Jan too was able to hit it with his sword before he was struck down by it's mighty talons.

Again, the beast flew up, and deciding that these strange creatures were too much trouble, circled only once and then returned to it's nest high up in the mountains.

Relieved, Ben turned his attention to Jan, who had lost conciousness. Then, after Jan had recovered, they wrapped Bristian and Niklas into blankets and waited till they had regained control of their limbs. Keeping a wary eye on the sky, they marched on.

For the next days, they went downwards, and after a while, there were plants again, and soon they had to shed some of their clothes, since the heat of the young summer made them sweat under their coats and scarves. As they went down, they at last saw signs of civilization again, as well. A shepherd leading his sheep up to a meadow and a forager of healing herbs were the clearest sign that they were among the divine races again.

Then, one evening, they reached a small village at the shore of Adurn's tear, and there were busy people everywhere. Some peasants were putting benches and tables on a field outside of the village, while others were carrying heavy kegs of beer and wine. There were boats in the small harbor, but none looked as if they were leaving soon. It seemed as if everyone was busy preparing a festivity.

Niklas turned to one of the farmers who had just helped putting up a small tent: "Greetings god man. What is the name of this village and what are you all doing here?"

The peasant answered:" Ah, you don't know? Well, this village here is Trela. But you sure must know what day it is tomorrow?"

Jan shook his head:" No. You see, my friends and me had spent a long time in the Kelders, and I have to admit that there we had lost track of the passage of the days..."

"Ah! Well, sir, tomorrow will be the first corday of Chardot- divinities day! There will be a big feast and several contests. There will be footraces, duels, an archery competition, horse rounds, and a bardic competition. All in honor of Chardun and Corean!".

After a long trek through the mountains, the young adventurers congratulated themselves for such good luckwith their timing. Of course they would use this opportunity and join the fun!

They got rooms for the night, and on the next morning, Niklas stood ready to participate in the first event, the footrace.


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## Ancalagon

This is the third time I'm trying to post so I'll be brief.

Ah, footraces, looking forward to the rest!

Ancalagon


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## Lars Frehse

Are the boards acting up again?
Anyway, I am glad you like it. Because of the world cup final, we didn't play this weekend. I plan on continuing the current chapter on monday.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Serpent Amphora- pt. 2*

The track made a circle around the village, leading up into the hills in the south and along the beach of Adurn’s Tear in the north. It was a mile long, and the runners were supposed to run four laps.

Apart from Niklas, there were four other runners, three men and one woman. All were young humans from Trela, and their families and friends were cheering for “their” runners, so that Ben, Torn, Jan and Trepat were the only supporters of Niklas.

As the sun had just risen over the Kelder mountains in the east and was only starting to burn away the chill of the night, the captain of the militia, Jonegar the half-orc, banged his axe against his shield, thus signalling for the competitors to start running.

Niklas had a good start. Giving all he got, he was making good progress, and soon, after the first lap, he didn’t feel the morning’s chill anymore and he was leaving the locals behind. As he went into the second lap, he felt his heart beating in his ears, yet he kept on running, while the other runners were being cheered on by their family and friends.

Meanwhile, a black robed priest of Belsameth, the slayer, approached Jan, who was cheering and yelling for his brother: “ Welcome good sir knight. My name is Radraan and I am the local priest. As you can see, I serve the lady of the night, Belsameth.”.

“Good morning”, Jan answered, “My name is Jan Palek, and I am a Paladin of the great champion Corean.”.

The priest was now smiling broadly, yet somehow, the radiant smile didn’t quite find it’s way, to his eyes: “Ah, fate must be smiling on our village! On the day of the two champions, one of their chosen ones finds it’s way here! But, alas, it looks like two of our own are catching up on your friend!”.

And indeed, there the woman and one of the men were now slowly getting closer to Niklas, who was now, in the third lap, feeling the long treck through the mountains in his legs. His heart was hammering in his chest, and in spite of the coolness of the morning, he was now sweating profusely. Still, he was leading the field, and mustering his last strength he entered the last lap, intending to win the race.

After Niklas had turned around the corner into his last lap in the hilly part of the track, Radraan turned to Jan again: “Anyway, it is always a pleasure for me to welcome defenders of other divine faiths here in our village. If you like, you can always come and visit the midnight shrine”.

Niklas looked over to the small windowless building at which the priest was pointing- the midnight shrine, dedicated to the goddess of murder. Supressing a shudder, he said: “Thank you for the invitation.”.

By now, Niklas was running towards the finishing line. On his side, there was the local woman, who looked as exhausted and determined as he was. Then, as there were only a few yards left to run, the woman seemed to summon extra strength from nowhere, and she left Niklas behind, winning the race.

Niklas came in second and lay down on the cool grass, panting heavily. Already his friends were around him, congratulating him for his good performance, and after he had recovered, he gratefully received the second prize: A pair of masterwork boots.

Now, that the race was finished, there was a hearty breakfast for everyone. Happy to have fresh food after living on trail rations for so long, the heroes stuffed themselves with bread, cheese and smoked sausage, chasing it down with milk.

Then, Jan and Torn signed up for the bamboo rod duels which were being held in the town’s square. They were given padded armor and rods and had to face their enemies.

With a combination of luck and skill, both managed to defeat their opponents one by one, until only the two of them were left.

By now, both had bruises and small wounds from the previous fights. Again, Jonegar gave the signal to start.

Both, half-orc and human were now circling each other, waiting for the other to loose his concentration. Many times had they fought side by side, but never had they matched their fighting prowess with each other.

The sun had reached it’s Zenith by now, and as Torn had to squint his eyes, Jan attacked him with his rod, hitting his leg. But Torn didn’t let the moment pass and hit his friend on the shoulder with his rod. Now, they were opposing each other, striking and parrying. Then, Jan fell for a feint and was hit on the side of his head.

Now, the paladin’s head was ringing and he was hardly able to see straight. Instead of giving up, though, he threw all his might into one last desperate blow, hitting the half orc on the head and knocking him out cold. Yet, he wasn’t able to gloat over his victory, since the exhaustion made him pass out as well, and both, Half Orc and Man hit the dusty ground at the same moment.

The crowd that had been cheering and yelling before were now transfixed in an awed silence. Both friends lay side by side in the dust for a moment, until two buckets of water were emptied over their heads, and they slowly regained conciousness, their head hurting as if they had had a night full of wine and ale.

Jonegar, the half orc, pulled both of them upwards and raised an arm of each of them into the air: “We have two winners!”. The crowd showed it’s approval by clapping and cheering.

Groggily, they both accepted the laurel and merely registered the local mayor telling them that they could pick up their prize at his warehouse.

Now, it was time for a large lunch. The villagers and the visitors all sat down on the benches in the meadow in front of the village, and as the meal went on, many villagers congratulated those who had participated in the competitions so far. No one in the village was able to remember a Bamboo rod duel in which there had been a draw.

Afterwards, there was an archery competition, in which Ben came in second. Only a local halfling had been better and then all of the heroes enjoyed the horse races and in the evening the bardic competition in which the Corean’s and Chardun’s deeds during the titan’s war were praised.

Then, after the sun had set, everyone returned to the meadow. There was wild boar and plenty of beer and wine for everyone, and the night was clear and beautiful and full of song. Even though it had been a long day, nobody wanted to go to rest early that night.

Late at night, while the feast was still in full swing, Torn went to some bushes out of sight of the tables to relief himself. As he was just done buttoning himself, an ill-shaven man in tattered clothes stumbled out of the underbrush. He looked exhausted, sick and desperate and grabbed Torn’s shoulder, keeping himself on his feet with his last strength: “Quick, I need a priest!”


----------



## Nightfall

Ah sweet!  The start of the fun just arrived!  Can't wait to see how old Radraan feels about Chardun visiting him.


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## The It's Man

Yes, I like it. Too bad I live a 4.5 hours trainride from you Lars


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## Lars Frehse

*The serpent Amphora- part 3*

Storyhour 6-3

The man broke down, and Torn saw that there was blood seeping through his torn cloak in the back. Picking the wounded man up, he ran back to the feast.

At the sight of this emergency, a hush fell over the crowd. Ben cast a healing spell on the Ranger, who recovered. Resting him on a bench, Ben examined the puncture wounds of the man.

"Poison", Ben said. "I can try to help him with some of the herbs I found in the mountains. But my magic is not strong enough to cure him.".

By now, a small crowd had gathered, and the wounded man spotted Jan. Upon seeing Corean's insignia, the man seemed to gather his last strength, and he signalled Jan to come closer.

The man now started speaking frantically, with the conviction of a man, who knew that he was living on borrowed time: "I thank the gods and the mother for your presence here, servant of Corean. My name is Eochaid, a Vigil of Vesh. We learned of a small covey of hags on the edge of the Hornsaw and the Blood Steppes. They had come into posession of a vessel that contains part of the essence of Mormo the Hag-queen."

The man coughed heavily, blood flecked his lips and his body was shaken with spasms. Then, after he was able to breathe again, he continued: " We, we raided their encampment. We lost two... But we got the amphora and then we were pursued all across the Blood Steppes, and the servants of the hags caught up with us over and over again! And each time, they got some of us... One or two at a time... My brothers in arms, my friends... They sacrificed themselves to buy us time with their very lifes..."

For a short moment, it looked as if grief and exhaustion were keeping the ranger from continuing. But then, he motioned for his backpack, and after Niklas had handed it to him, he pulled an Amphora out of it. It was crafted of lead and had a metal seal impressed with the scepter and laurel wreath symbol of Chardun. The amphora itself was decorated with a twisting, intricate pattern of intertwined snakes, and as Jan focused back on Eochaid the Ranger, it seemed as if the snakes were moving at the edge of his sight.

Eochaid grabbed Jan's shoulder, and pulled himself halfway up to him:" This must be returned to Vesh. Don't let all those lifes be wasted for nothing- guard it with your life now until it has reached the hands of the Vigils of Vesh. Swear you shall do this, in the name of Corean!".

And as Jan swore, the poisoned Ranger settled back with a reliefed smile, closed his eyes and fell asleep.

By now, some villagers had brought a stretcher and the heroes carefully put the wounded man on it and carried him to Radraan. When they reached the midnight shrine, the priest of the slayer was waiting for them in front of the windowless shrine.

"Ah, you brought the wounded man! Some villagers already told me about him and the prize he brought. Well, carry him inside, I will take care of him and the amphora.".

"I am sorry", Jan objected:" But I have promised this man to bring the amphora to Vesh!".

Radraan kept on smiling but his eyes got even colder:" Now, certainly you won't consider the words of a delirious man to be binding, no? I would make sure that the Amphora reaches the hands of king Virduk himself."

Jan shook his head:" He is a Vigilant, so I don't think  that his wish to have the amphora delivered to Vesh can be considered to be delirious.".

"But certainly, it is much safer in the heart of the Calastian empire then it could be in a land that is besieged by titanspawn on all sides. And of course, I am certain that his imperial highness would be more than grateful.".

Now Ben spoke up. The little Halfling had never forgotten that he came from a country that had been raped by Calastia:" No way. We will take care of the poisoned man and the amphora ourselves. Let's go:".

They turned around to the hut they had slept in, and Radraan kept on staring coldly at their backs, as if his gaze was a dagger, poised to strike them down.

Back in the hut, they decided to leave the next day, after Ben had tended to the Ranger's wounds. For the next hours, he kept on taking care of the wounds. Fortunately, the herbs he used countered the poison, and it looked as if his patient should be able to recover after a couple of days rest.

Niklas was examining the amphora, Ben checked the Ranger's pulse and the others were sleeping in cots on one wall, as the door burst open, and two lizardlike creatures were standing in the doorway.

They had long necks and were as slender as an elf while being as tall as a human. Their scaled skin was deep green and their golden eyes were burning with a rare mixture of intelligence and hatred. Both scanned the room for a short moment and then regained their motion when they spotted Niklas holding the amphora.

Niklas and Ben in turn recognized the creatures from countless stories and legends: They were Asaathi- an ancient race of reptilian warrior-wizards who had once, in an ancient past, ruled an empire that covered half of Ghelspad. Their once proud cities were now in ruins, but they were still serving their maker, Mormo, the serpentmother, as fanatically as they were back when their cities were still filled with life.


----------



## Lars Frehse

Oh, and Itsman- if you stay long enough on the sunday after my wedding, you can make a guest appearance. I think I could always integrate a pitchfork wielding Paladin into my campaign...


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## Nightfall

Ah and here come the Assathi!  Man I'm SOO loving this.


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## SSS-Druid

Once I get back to my home computer (I am on working vacation right now), I'll post some of the better images from the Serpent Amphora art contest we held on the SSS site a while back.

Thanks for the story!


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## Nightfall

Do you mean there were some that didn't make it in...or just the ones that were on the site Joseph/Dru?


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## Lars Frehse

One of the two Asaathi now cast a spell, and the amphora was covered with grease and it slipped out of Niklas's hand. The other one placed himself in front of the spellcaster, brandishing his scimitar and blocking the doorway.

Ben started shouting, waking the others up and Niklas dived for the amphora, but before he could reach it, it flew towards the far Asaathi, moving through the air as if carried by an invisible hand.

Now, Ben pulled out his sling and shot a bullet at the Asaath in the doorway, missing him and Niklas charged him. The Asaath dodged the blow and tried to bite the monk, and greenish spittle spew forth as his jaws snapped close on thin air.

Torn grabbed his mace and ran towards the window, and not bothering to open it, he jumped through it, glass shards exploding outwards along with him. By now, the Asaath who was holding the Amphora ran into the night, his body almost parallel to the ground, and soon Torn realized that he wasn't able to catch up with the creature.

The other one, who was now keeping Niklas and Jan at bay, turned around, parrying another one of Jan's swordstrokes and ran into the night as well. And as suddenly as the lizardlike creatures had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, as suddenly they were gone again, and the night looked as if the intruders had never been there.

Ben blinked, and all of a sudden it felt as if two iron hands were pinching his eyes closed. As each of the other ones blinked they felt the same sensation. Helpless they were forced to stare at the back of their eyelids, which turned into screens for a horrible projection.

Right in front of their closed eyes, bathed in flames, they saw a majestic figure in a white toga. His eyes were burning with rage and sadness and the scepter in his hand, like his sandals were splattered with blood. They all recognized him right away: It was Chardun the Slaver, himself.

Chardun spoke to them, and his voice was exploding in their heads: "Fools! You have lost that which is mine. Now you will go and regain it or die while attempting to do so. There is no choice for you. You will be on your way as soon as the sun rises."

Then, the vision was gone, but everytime they blinked, they saw an afterimage of the god. Like the sun left a reminder of itself on the eye when you stare at it for too long, so did the radiant deity burn itself into the eyes of those who he had chosen.

As they gathered on the square in front of the hut, Trepat's raven returned and reported that he had watched the two intruders gather with four others of their specie. "Kraa!", he continued: " Then, they ran down along the shore of the river".

By now, villagers who had been woken up by the ruckus were gathering in the square as well, and Torn frowned:" We will definetly need horses to keep up with these beings. They are fast as lightning.".

As they were debating, Radraan approached the square. He was visibly shaken. Sweat was running down his forehead and his near constant smile of the day had disappeared and was replaced by an expression of sheer terror. His eyes were wide open and it looked as if he was avoiding to close his eyes at all costs.

He walked up to Jan, who he seemed to consider to be the leader of the party and said:" I, I had a visitation... I know you will need horses soon. My helper, he is getting horses for you right now. Oh, some of you are wounded. Let me tend to their wounds.".

He healed the wounds and then, after bowing reverently, he walked off. Ben stayed with the poisoned Ranger as the others tried to catch some sleep. Just before dawn, a young apprentice of Radraan walked up to the cottage and handed over five horses.

At dawn, Ben woke his friends up, and after they had made certain that Phuram Dayal, the mayor, and Jonegar would help the Vigilant until he had recovered in peace, they set off to follow the trail of the Asaathi.

Picking up the trail was easy. Apparently, the titanspawn were travelling as fastly as possible and not taking  too much care to remain secretive.  After a few hours, they reached a shallow part of the river where they crossed it. There, the trail lead into the hills up ahead.

"The Blod Steppes", Torn said.

They all sat on horseback and Torn explained:" My father told me about this place. He said that it is named that way, since over and over armies clashed here, soaking the land with blood. I think there is even a titan or two supposed to have been defeated here...

"Anyway, not even the Calastians have tried to conquer this place. All there is are strange plants and titanspawn...".

Niklas nodded darkly: " It is not as if we have much of a choice...".

And so, they dug their heels into the flanks of their horses and proceeded into this unknown terrain. As the day passed by, the trail lead them over rolling hills , past weird rock formations and ever westwards, deeper and deeper into the Blood Steppes.

At night, they made camp on a hill. They talked for a little while about the events of the last two days and then, they planned their watch: They would have two double watches and Ben, who had taken care of the Ranger throughout the previous night, would sleep through.

So, Jan and Trepat stayed awake, talking silently, and the other three fell into a deep and exhausted sleep. Over them, the nameless orb was shining, so that even Jan was able to see in the night. Then, towards the end of their watch, after midnight, Trepat heard the sound of a snapping twig in the underbrush. He motioned Jan to listen, and now they both heard moaning and grunting noises from behind some bushes in their back. Both jumped up, and facing the bushes, they woke up their sleeping friends, who grabbed their weapons.

They stood up, and now, five zombies broke through the bushes. Their rotting flesh was clad in rusty armor and they were wearing old weapons. Once, in a war long forgotten by now, those five had been soldiers in a large army. They had gotten killed in a battle that had seemed of utmost importance back then. Their corpses had been thrown into a bog and after centuries the  wickedness and cruelty of the land surrounding them had filled them with an unholy unlife.

They battled fiercly on the campsite, and the heroes were able to use their agility and speed against their undead opponents. And then, all of the Zombies were hacked to pieces. The friends now cleaned up the site, and after making sure that there weren't any more of the undead near, and after the excitement of battle had vaporated, Jan, Trepat and Ben layed down to get some well needed sleep.

On the next day at noon, the trail lead to a small clearing under a so called "fang"- a hundredfifty feet high sharp and twisted spire of rock. There, it seemed as if the asaathi had had a camp in the previous night.

All of the heroes dismounted, and they examined the fireplace and the tracks. Then, Trepat, who was standing close to some scrub bushes, shouted:"Come here, I think I found something!".

They walked to the bushes and now they saw it, too: There, dragged away from the main site and abandoned under some bushes lay an Asaathi. Ben recognized him as the one who had cast the greasing spell on the Amphora. His golden eyes were no longer shining with a hating intellect- they were, like the rest of him, quite dead.


----------



## Lars Frehse

Thank you for the feedback!
As you see, I made some minor modifications to the original adventure, but then I think every DM does that with an adventure that comes "out of the box". 
Oh, and I think I forgot to mention earlier: You can download this excellent adventure at: www.scarredlands.com .

In spite of being for free, it is more fun then a lot of adventures I had paid money for in the past, so I highly recommend it.


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## Nightfall

Not to mention it's a great little introduction to the Scarred Lands!  But yeah this rocks!  I love the Blood Steppes. Not a nice place and it shows!


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## SSS-Druid

Lars Frehse said:
			
		

> *Oh, and I think I forgot to mention earlier: You can download this excellent adventure at: www.scarredlands.com .
> *




That is to say, it's available at www.swordsorcery.com , under the free downloads.

Enjoy!


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## Lars Frehse

*Serpent Amphora part 5*

Ben went on his knees and examined the corpse: "Hmmmm. There are no wounds. No evidence that any weapon was used. Wait!".

He pointed at a part of the Asaath's chest that had been burnt:" Maybe magic. Looks like some form of an energy attack.".

Jan scratched his beard:" I wonder whether it was another Asaath who had killed him...".

"I don't think so",  Trepat said. He was back at the campsite and was pointing to some tracks:"There was another creature here. From the looks of this camp, this creature had been waiting here for quite a while. I think I even recognize the footprints: it looks like those of a rat. But this rat walked on two legs and was the size of a man!".

The friends examined the tracks and came to a conclusion, that this bipedal creature with rat feet had confronted the Asaathi here, and after a little commotion, it had marched on together with the five remaining Asaathi. Not wanting to waste any valuable daylight the heroes now mounted their horses again and rode on in pursuit of the tracks.

They rode on until the sun set, and then, by now deep in the Blood Steppes, they settled down for yet another night. All of them were exhausted, and in spite of the horrible encounter last night, they decided to go for single watches this time. After all, now, merely a month before summer solstice, the nights were too short for a good sleep already...

Late at night, Trepat, who had the midnight watch, was humming a song, as he noticed something small moving close to Niklas. Taking it for a hedgehog or some other harmless animal, he nonetheless got up to get a closer look. He walked a few steps and gasped in surprise: The small being approaching Niklas was neither a hedgehog nor any other animal. Instead, Trepat saw a tiny puppet that was made from sticks, leaves and stones. The puppet stretched out it's hand, reaching out for the sleeping human and Trepat shouted out a warning.

Niklas jerked awake as the puppet touched him and immediatly, electricity raced through his body, almost knocking him out cold. Woken up by the commotion, Torn and Jan now saw that they too were being approached by similar puppets. They jumped up, and, after some of them got shocked by the tiny creatures, they were able to hack and stomp the puppets into the parts they were made of.

Looking around, they saw that the saddlebags next to one of the horses were opened. It looked as if the strange puppets had crawled out of them.

Carefully touching the remnants of one of the puppets with the tip of his sword, Jan asked: "But when and where did they get in there?"

Torn answered:" The only logical possibility is the Asaathi's camp. Maybe they were aware that they were being chased and either they or the "rat" had left those things behind as a little surprise. Those tiny things had plenty of chances to get into the saddlebags when we examined the campsite..."

Niklas rubbed the spot of his arm where the construct had touched him and nodded in agreement:" I am only glad you saw that thing in time, Trepat. I sure wouldn't have wanted that little devil to get a better hold of me while I was asleep!".

They checked the other saddlebags and once they were certain that there were no more of the constructs, Torn got ready for his watch and the others went back to sleep. It dawned much too early for their taste, but still they got back on horseback and resumed the hunt.

For two days they kept on riding, and thy had to settle down for sleep in dangerous terrain for two more nights. Then, on the third day after the assault of the puppets, Trepat noticed a huge, yet almost invisible net between two trees close by. He called out for his friends, and all of a sudden a web was shot from within the crown of the right tree, completely engulfing Jan and his horse who crashed to the ground, caught in the net.

The others prepared themselves for more to come as a black spider that was as big as their horses raced towards them. It attacked Niklas, biting him, and the other ones surrounded the beast. Where they hit it, green blood splattered them, but the beast was relentless. It randomly bit at it's attackers, until it was lethally wounded and broke down.

After liberating Jan and his horse from the sticky web, the friends approached the trees. Ben embraced the memories of his previous life as a spider, and he climbed up the tree with the precise and deliberate movements of a spider.

In the crown of the tree, he found the spider's nest and the mummified remnants of three animals and two humanoids. Ben dislodged those mummies from the branches that kept them in place, and they crashed to the ground.

One of the humanoids had been a goblin with six arms and spider eyes, and the other one looked exactly like a humansized rat on two legs. Excited, Torn removed the net- this have must be one of the species that had met with the Asaathi days before.

All there was left of the creature was it's dark brown fur and the skeleton. The spider must have sucked all the liquid out of her- a quick glance showed that she had been female. She wore leather clothes and in a belt, she had a dagger- apparently she hadn't been able to draw it when the spider had gotten her.

Ben focused on her neck and gently picked up an amulet that was tied to a leather string. The amulet depicted a writhing serpent and Ben said only one word: "Mormo.".

Neither one of them spoke much for the remainder of the day, and around noon on the day after, they approached another rock formation. Niklas and Torn scouted ahead, and they came to a small gulley with a cliff-face at the furthest end. There was a small waterfall and it's base there was a small lake with three small slipshod huts. 

The monk and the rogue hid behind some bushes and observed the area. Now, they saw more ratmen like the dead one they had seen on the previous day. These ones, though, seemed very alive. On top of the cliff, there were two ratmen patrolling, and another two pairs were patrolling the ground. Each of them was equipped with leather armors, scimitars and crossbows.

After a while, they returned to their friends, telling them about what they had seen. One thing was clear: if they wanted to get the amphora, they would have to somehow get into this camp.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Chapter 7- The Struggle for the Serpent Amphora part 1*

The sky darkened in the east and a storm was building up and moving towards the friends.

Ben frowned: “This doesn’t look like a natural thunderstorm, there… Whatever the cause, it is not just bad weather.”

“All the more reason for us to hurry up”, Torn said.

Niklas nodded: “What do you think? We two could try to sneak to the ratmen on top of the cliff. If we kill them, we should be able to take care of the two patrols. After all, if the Asaathi are still in that camp, I doubt we would have a chance against all of them at once.”.

The half orc stood up and fastened his axe to his belt:”Alright then, let’s go.”.

Niklas and Torn circled around the cliff, leaving their friends behind. Then, after half an hour, they had reached the top of the cliff. Carefully crawling under the protection of some bushes, they approached the two watchers. They were sitting on some smooth rocks, chatting idly. Torn and Niklas inched themselves carefully closer, and when they were mere feets away from their intended victims, they jumped up and Torn split the skull of the ratman closer to them. The other one jumped up and tried to grab his scimitar, but before he could pull his weapon, the monk and the rogue were already close to him, attacking him with axe and fists and Niklas broke the ratman’s neck with a well placed kick.

After hiding the bodies, they examined the campsite, and found nothing but a rope leading down to the main camp and a wineskin that was half full with sour wine. Then, they returned to the camp and told the others of their success.

Now, they went into the gully where they hid themselves in order to ambush one of the patrols. By now, single drops of rain where falling from the sky and in the distance, there was thunder. After a short while, one of the patrols indeed walked up to the spot where the friends where hiding.

It looked as if they were unaware of the ambush, but Niklas saw one of the ratmen nudging the other one. The humanoid rat slightly pointed his head towards where Jan was hiding and the other one nodded in agreement- some of Jan’s platemail was shining through the leaves of his hiding spot.

Now Niklas crawled over to Jan, intending to warn him without giving the entire ambush away. But before he could reach him, both ratmen had raised their crossbows and they fired bolts at the surprised paladin. Jan screamed out in pain- even though one of the bolts was deflected by his dwarven craft armor, the other one punched a hole into the plate protecting his shoulder and entered his flesh there.

Everything happened rather fast then. As the thunder roared, the ratmen reloaded their crossbolts, but as they were just shooting their next volley, Jan had raised his crossbow in turn and shot one of the ratmen into his throat. As the hit one sank to the ground, grasping for the bolt while blood was shooting from his neck, the ambushers charged the remaining ratman.

Seeing that he was surrounded, he shot his last bolt at Jan, hitting again, and then he pulled his scimitar, facing his opponents. But against the heros’ superiority in numbers, he had no chance and Niklas ran him through with his glaive.

As the friends stood over the corpses of their enemies, there was lightning which was shortly afterwards followed by thunder. The air was now rapidly getting colder and the wind was blowing stronger with each passing minute. At the same time, the rain had gotten stronger, too, and the occasional drops of rain had now been replaced by a real downpour.

Trepat wiped his wet hair out of his face: “ Let’s get the last patrol. Jan, I am sorry, but I think it would be best if you would stay behind. You are just too loud and shiny for ambushes…”.

Jan nodded in agreement and while he was taking care of his wounds, the others sneaked towards the camp.

They saw the remaining two ratmen at the edge of their encampment. They were agitated and talking with raised voices in order to be audible over the noise of the thunderstorm.

“Listen”, one said: “ Ygran and Wookas should have returned by now. And I haven’t seen Lok and Onnat up there either!”.

The other one was holding his crossbow nervously:” So, you think the Asaathi had been followed?”

“Could be. Something is foul here. And even if they are just hiding away from the rain and the “visitor”, then we can’t allow that lack of discipline. I think it would be best if I would go and tell Storm of Blood.”.

“Good. I will stay here and hold watch.”.

Not willing to wait for whoever this “Storm of Blood” was, Trepat decided to take out the messenger. But the driving rain spoiled his aim and he missed both of the ratmen, who were now fully alerted.

Both shouted:”ALARM!!!” and shot their crossbows at Trepat, but they too had problems shooting straight in the storm and missed him.

A hundred yards back, Jan heard the cry of Alarm and figuring that the time of ambushes was over, he started to run as fast as his full plate armor allowed him to towards the encampment.

The others now left their cover and charged the ratmen. A fierce battle ensued, and just as they had defeated the two ratmen, one of the huts opened and two of the Asaathi came out. Also, there were more ratmen coming from under the waterfall.

As Jan charged into the frey, a tree next to him was struck by lighning, catching fire in spite of the rain and as he was battling Asaathi and ratmen, the echo of the exploding tree was still humming in his head.

The battle was fierce, and just as it seemed that the adventurers were gaining the upper hand, Trepat noticed a figure swooping to and fro among the clouds and peals of thunder.

As the figure swooped low, all fighting ceased, since both, divine folks and titanspawn were looking up to it. Squinting in the rain, they saw that it was a vaguely feminine form some nine feet tall. Her ugly and warty face was framed by whipping and writhing hair that seemed to have a life on her own.

Her cackling was louder than the thunder and it made the blood freeze in the veins of the terror stricken heroes: “ Fool servants of the ursuper gods! Your end is at hand!”.


----------



## Nightfall

Oh crap! The Storm Hag!! I hope they can manage it! (*wink*) Still nice fight. I do wish Trepat had rethought his original idea. That might avoided this skirimsh.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Fight for the Serpent Amphora part2 of 4*

Desperate, the adventurers prepared for the hag’s attack, when suddenly the wan light of the area turned a deep purple. It was exactly the color they remembered from their vision of Chardun in Trela.

The hag now looked around in confused surprise and fear, as if searching the surroundings for an invisible foe. Then, with a clap of thunder, two devils appeared out of nowwhere. They were as tall as the hag and covered with hideous scales. Each of them was holding a giant whip in it’s hand and as they were flying with their huge wings, their snakelike tails were wiggling in the air. One devil engaged the hag and the other one dived down, hunting the scattering asaathi and ratmen.

The hag flew up into the clouds, the devil in hot pursuits, and the rest of the battle between them was hidden from the viewers on the ground, since it all seemed to happen within the clouds. The battle and the clouds, however, soon moved rapidly westwards, back to where they had come from.

Torn, who was among the Asaathi at that moment summoned all his will to get out of the murderous frenzy he had been in and ran towards his friends who were standing close to the waterfall, carefully avoiding the devil on the ground who was laughing madly as he slaughtered the Asaathi. Then, Jan and Trepat noticed two ratmen who left the cliff through a small, previously unnoticed crevace. They were both moving towards the rope that lead to the top of the cliff, and while the smaller, unarmed one positioned itself at the bottom of the rope, the other one climbed up. Trepat noticed that the climbing ratman was wearing a canvas bag through which he could see the form of the amphora.

Trepat called his friends, pointing to the Amphora, and told Nebrot, his speaking raven, to harass the climbing ratman. Meanwhile, the rat at the bottom of the rope had finished a spell that surrounded it with a multicolored energy shield.

As the adventurers were running towards the rope, Nebrot flew ahead and started picking at the climbing ratman. The climber was now unable to climb on, since he had to use one of his clawlike hands to fend off the raven while he needed the other one to stay in place- not only were the rain and the wind making it hard to climb, but the wet rope was also very slippery already.

The spellcasting rat at the bottom cast a spell which Trepat recognized- it was a magic missile, and she directed the force of the arcane energy at the raven that had been attacking her partner, killing it instantly.

As the raven plummeted to the ground, Trepat felt the pain of the death of his companion with every cell of his body. He fell on his knees in the mud, screaming out loud. For a few seconds, the pain was overbearing. Then, as soon as he was able to see again, he got up again, pulled his sword and ran towards the wizard all the while screaming in anguish and rage.

His friends were there, before him, though, and Torn went up and climbed after the ratman as his friends battled the spellcaster. She, in turn cast a spell and tried to touch Jan, but she lost her footing in the mud and fell down. Without hesitation, Jan thrust his sword down, cutting through her neck.

For Trepat that wasn’t enough. Enraged over the loss of his friend, he kept on hacking at the wet corpse that was laying in a puddle in which her blood and the rain were quickly mixing up.

Meanwhile, Torn was closing in on the escaping ratman. Further down the rope was Niklas, trying to close up, but failing to do so. By the time the ratman had reached the top of the cliff, Torn was already right behind, and before his enemy could cut the rope, he was already on his feet, facing him.

The ratman pushed Torn, trying to toss him down the cliff into his certain death, but in spite of the muddy earth on which he was standing, he was able to keep his ground and step sidewise, getting away from the onehundred feet deep drop behind him.

Both pulled their weapons now, and with a surprisingly quick attack, the ratman had slashed at Torn’s arm, drawing blood. There was thunder, and the half-orc slashed at his opponent, but the ratman had sidestepped and was now attacking with his scimitar, again wounding Torn.

The situation was getting dire now. The rain was washing his two bleeding wounds and the ratman was looking at him with cool calculation in his eyes. They were circling each other, as Torn saw Niklas’ hands on the edge of the cliff- he too had reached the top by now. Following the half-orc’s glance, the ratman now saw his hands, too, but the slight turn of his head offered Torn enough of an opening for one desperate lunge.

His axe hit the ratman right in the jaws, splitting it, and as the rodent was spitting blood, Torn finished him with another axestrike at his skull.

After Niklas had helped him stop his bleedings, they picked up the amphora and climbed back down. By now, the rat-wizard had been hacked to pieces and Jan was comforting Trepat, who sat next to his raven in the mud.

Ben cured their wounds, and they searched the camp. It indeed looked like all the inhabitants had ran away. Behind the waterfall, there was a damp cave that was full of wet furs which smelled like a wet dog. There were several niches which were filled with scraps of cloth, fur and foliage and one larger nest that had probably belonged to the leader.

They plundered it, finding gold and silver and an arcane scroll in a chest. When they were done, they saw that the rain had passed westwards with the hag, and now the sun was shining through rips and openings in the blanket of clouds. It looked like it could be a beautiful evening again.

They changed into dry clothings and then they gathered dry wood from within the huts. With it, they built a small pyre and gave the raven a hero’s funeral.

Then, they returned to their horses and set off to ride back home, since they wanted to get some space between themselves and the encampment before they would settle down for the night’s rest.

During the next days, they saw gigantic beetles, spider and other monstrous vermin, but since they were careful, they avoided those. At one point, they almost ran into a group of goblins, but deciding it was wiser to make no contact on their way out of blood stepped, they rode in a wide arch, remaining undetected by the titanspawn, as well.

At nights, they had to deal with giant centipedes and other oversized nasties, but fortunately, they encountered no undead or ratmen. Then, after four days, they had reached the river again, and in the evening they were back in Trela.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*The struggle for the serpent amphora- part 3 of 4*

Eochaid, the Ranger, had full recovered by now, and he greeted them as they entered the village:” Greetings! I am glad to see you back. Did you succeed?”

Torn patted the saddlebag that was holding the amphora now and nodded.

“Ah, good. Well, come to the tavern, then. I owe you a dinner at the very least for now.”

They accepted his invitation and had a pleasant evening with the ranger. At some point in the evening, after they had had dinner he asked:” Well, good gentlemen, I don’t know where you are heading, but I intend to bring this amphora to Lave, the capital of my homecountry, Vesh. I know I have already asked more than enough from you good people, but maybe you could accompany me on the way there?”.

They checked the maps and seeing that it was on the way to Mithril, anyway, they agreed.

“Besides” said Jan, “we have risked so much already, we too want to make sure that the artifact reaches a safe place.”.

Eochaid was now grinning broadly: “Great! I have already purchased and prepared a boat that should take us over Adurn’s tear.”

They sat merrily together for a few more hours and at midnight, Radraan, the priest of Belsameth entered the hut that was serving as the village’s tavern.

He raised his hands in a greeting gesture:” Ah, I am glad to see that you all made it back alive! You are mighty heroes, indeed. You have entered the lion’s den and remained unscathed! Indeed, the gods are smiling upon you.”

Jan got up and greeted the priest with equal politeness: “Greetings to you, too, good priest. Now, may I be frank and ask what brings you here?”

The Belsameth priest was smiling his frozen smile again: “I came to give you a chance to reconsider your initial plan. After all, it is clear that Chardun wished to retrieve the Amphora that bears his seal. So, the only logical consequence would be to bring it to Calastia, where his royal highness King Virduk rules with the scepter and the laurels of the Great General himself!”.

“True enough”, answered Jan:” But all The Overlord wished was that the amphora that bears his seal should be taken away from the titanspawn. And this is what we will be doing by bringing it to Vesh.”

Now Niklas got up, too:” Besides, there is really not much we have to decide about it anyway. It was originally retrieved by the vigils, so it is Eochaid’s right to decide where the Amphora should be brought. And also, my brother had sworn an oath in the name of Corean to bring the Serpent Amphora to Vesh. And you can surely not expect a paladin of the champion to break his word now, can you?”.

Radraan nodded shortly, and there was fake regret in his voice now:” Well, then, I see that you have made up your mind. I only hope that you will not regret your decision. Good night.”.

And with these words, he disappeared into the night.

Torn emptied his tankard of wine and said:” Looks like there is one more enemy we’ve got to watch out for.”.

Eochaid agreed:” Yes, but then I would always rather have a priest of Belsameth as my enemy than as my friend… Anyway, I will only feel comfortable when the Amphora is safely in the Hall of Command in Lave.”

And with these words, they ended their feast and went to bed.

On the next morning, they set sail with the small boat Eochaid had prepared. They left their horses behind, but fortunately there was enough space for their two pack mules.

It was a nice day for sailing a boat. There was a fresh breeze and the blue of the sky was mirrored in the crystal clear water of Adurn’s tear. As the sun had reached it’s peak, Niklas approached the ranger and asked him about the ratmen they had encountered in the blood steppes.

“Yes, I know them. In fact, some vigils consider them to be the greatest danger Vesh is facing. They appeared out of nowwhere after the titanswar and by now, we even had to face them in full scaled battles! But maybe I should start at the beginning.

”They call themselves slitheren, and from what we found out about now, this is how they came into being:

”After the titans fell, the rats came, and they gnawed at the titan’s remains. Right from the start, the dark magical energies transformed the rats, making them bigger, smarter and more like the titan they were feasting on. They bred and each generation grew more humanoid. This is how they came into being.

“Other rats became like other titans, without actually feasting on them, and from what we know now, there are now twelve distinct races among them, each one representing the titan that had instilled them with their dark energy. The one that killed your sorceror’s raven, for instance, would most likely be a “red witch” one of the brood that is instilled with the spirit of Mormo.”

“There are several broods operating from withing the mourning marshes, and they are now endangering the entire south of our country…”

They sailed on in silence, and at night, they anchored at a shallow part of the lake.

As Jan held watch, he lay down on his back and watched the stars. Then, contrasting against the background of the sickle of Belsameth’s moon, he saw four vultures. He squinted his eyes- he had never heard of vultures that were out at night. The moment he got a better view, he got up and woke his companions- the “vultures” were really winged women who were armed with scythes, and they seemed ready to dive down at them!


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Struggle for the Serpent Amphora part 4 of 4*

The harpies folded back their wings and shot down, their scythes ready to mow down the young heroes, but they merely inflicted fleshwounds.

After the initial attack, the friends took up a defensive formation. Niklas, Torn and Jan held their melee weapons ready in case that the winged women should dive down again and Eochaid, Ben and Trepat pulled out their bows and slings and shot at their airborne targets.

The harpies dived down again, but the combination of Niklas reach with his glaive and Torn’s highly trained reflexes made it impossible for the women to swing a good hit, while they, in turn, were forced to loose feathers.

Now, back to a height of 30 feet, they changed their tactics and threw javelins down at them, hitting Niklas and Torn, but both were still able to stand, even though they were heavily wounded by now. But Eochaid proved to be a good marksman and hit one of the winged women straight into the chest. Mortally wounded, she crashed into the lake, dead.

Furious that their opponents proved to be so tough and out of weapons to throw, the three remaining harpies dived down again. Niklas put up his glaive, and one of the women impaled herself with all the force of her dive, so that the blade of the weapon stuck out of her back. Jan scored a good hit, but was then hit himself and the impact knocked him out.

Torn, who had missed with his first swing now backhanded into another harpy as she flew by to gain height again, and he hit her square in the abdomen. While the other harpy flew up to hover over the group again, the wounded one tried to flap her wings twice, but then she lost her strength, and, bleeding heavily, she crashed into the lake as well.

Now, there was only one harpy left. Ben took care of the wounded Paladin and Trepat and Eochaid shot arrows at the rangers, and hit one wing and her neck. The harpy furiosly flew down to attack again, but because of the wounded wing, she missed her target and shot into the lake.

After minutes, she hadn’t surfaced again, and the adventurers were pretty certain, that she was now dead as well.

Niklas used his boot to free his glaive of the harpy, and after sufficient wriggling and pulling, he had torn his weapon out of her body. Jan helped him toss the corpse overboard and asked: “What in the name of all heavens were those creatures?”

Niklas watched the dead fiend slowly submerge in the calm waters of Adurn’s tear and said: “My master William once told me about those creatures… To tell you the truth, I never thought I would really meet a creature like that.”

He scratched his chin, and continued: “They are called harpies. Once, two hundred years ago, there was a female cult called “The Sisterhood of the sickle moon”. They worshipped Belsameth, and mostly specialized in Assassination and espionage for their goddess. But then came the titanswar, and it soon became clear that the time of subtle approaches was over for a while. 

“So, they prayed the Slayer to give them a gift that would enable them to serve her better in rough times like those. And Belsameth gave them talons and vulturelike wings- turning them into a new species: The Harpies.”

“Belsameth, eh?” Torn said, “Looks like Radraan called some friends, after all.”.

Eochaid nodded:” Yes. And the problem is, if he called some friends, he could have called more. I am only glad they got no better aim at us with those scythes.”

Torn smiled wryly and rubbed his neck. Turning to Jan, he said:” There are still some hours of night left. Go to sleep now, it is my turn.”.

And with that, they went back for the night’s rest.

During the next two days, nothing remarkable happened. Even though they feared another attack, they were able to enjoy two more beautiful days on the lake, while the sun was shining, the water was placid and the fish was plenty. As the day passed by, they relaxed a little and enjoyed the beauty of those summer days.

Then, on the evening of the second day after the attack, they reached a small village at the northern edge of the lake. To the east of it, the lake was going over into marshland and to the north were the Kelders.

“This is it!” said Eochaid, “From here we will either have to make a raft or march on by foot.”

They secured their boat at a small wooden quai and then jumped on the wooden planks. Just as they were about to enter the village, small dark figures stepped out of the shadow and blocked the way, grinning viciously.

The creatures were Belsamaugs: four feet tall goblinoids with long and narrow implike features. Each of them was holding a dagger and they were wearing skintight black leather costumes. 

Before either the adventurers nor the imps could say anything Radraan stepped up behind them. He was now wearing half plate armor and next to him was Paransala, a beautiful dark haired wizardress from Trela.

Radraan was wearing his haughtiest smile for the occasion:” So, we meet again, dear gentlemen. Well, I think I will rephrase the deal I had offered you before. Hand over the amphora, and you will live.”.

Jan’s only answer was that he pulled his bastardsword from it’s scabbard on his back.
“Well, I didn’t think so, anyway”, said Radraan and cast a spell.

Torn felt a mental hand grasping for his body, trying to freeze him in, but his stubborness won over the evil magic of the priest, and he remained free. He charged forward, and soon Niklas, Jan and Torn were fighting with the impish creatures, which proved to be exceptionally tough for their small size. Eochaid helped by shooting arrows through any openings, but for now, both the evil priest and the wizardress remained safely in the back.

As the battle raged, the adventurers were able to fell the Belsamaugs, but Niklas, Jan and Trepat got heavily wounded as well, and Ben was busy saving the lives of his friends. As the situation got more desperate, Eochaid hit the wizardress right in the eye, killing her instantly.

Now, the way was free and Torn charged at Radraan who cast a spell and disappeared.

Warily, Torn turned around, trying to anticipate where his enemy would appear again, as he heard the swish of air in his back. He moved sideways just in time to get his head out of the way of the mace that the powerful priest swung at him, but he was hit on the shoulder none the less. Trying to ignore the insane pain in his left shoulder, the half orc turned around, and battled the priest.

Eochaid helped by carefully shooting arrows, and as the priest had to block one arrow with his shield, Torn used the opening to swing his axe between the helmet and the armor at the neck of his opponent. He hit, and after a few seconds, in which Radraan tried to stop the flow of blood out of his neck, the evil priest died.

As the battle had ended, some villagers carefully approached. By now, Ben had healed his friends so that they were at least concious again.

An old man raised his hands in a pacifying gesture and said:” Good gentlemen. We are sorry we did nothing to help you, but we are a small village of merely a hundred souls, and when those six approached us earlier this evening, there was nothing we could do but what they told us to. We are sorry, please don’t punish us.”.

“Don’t worry” Jan answered, “we understand your trouble, so you don’t have to fear us.”.

There was relief in the voice of the villager:” That is very kind of you. My name is Joran, and I am the elder of this village. You are welcome to stay here as our guests until you have fully recovered.”

The heroes thanked the old man and settled down, and for the next three days, all they did was wait until their wounds were fully healed. By then, they were rested and ready for the second part of their journey with the Amphora which would take them through the marshes and through Vesh.


----------



## Nightfall

Harpies!  Radraan and Belsamaug!  Man this soo good Lars! I love it! You have a great story hour. Btw, I guess this means you'll probably run Serpent in the Fold when it comes out huh?


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## Lars Frehse

Wow! This is your shortest comment, ever.
Incidentally, I will start writing the next chapter tomorrow. It will be called "A Veshian Voyage". I will get married on friday, and I plan to be done with the current chapter before that.
With this one exception, I was able to always able to stick to the rule "one chapter between two sessions", and I don't intend to break that rule now!


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## Lars Frehse

Oh, you edited when I answered. 
Thank you for the praise. 
 Regarding "Serpent in the Fold", I don't know yet. After all, the group is heading towards Mithril right now, so I will have to check out the adventure and see how it will fit into my campaign. But considering how much I enjoyed this adventure, I will probably run it.


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## Nightfall

Sounds good Lars.  I just edited it because I only read part 3 and hadn't gotten to part four JUST yet.  Btw, congrats on the marriage and I can't wait to see more.


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## Ancalagon

Still reading Lars, and it is still good!

I love how chardun interveened to stop the titan spawn, yet still needed the heroes to retrieve the amorpha.  

Your PCs are lucky that ranger is around... he seems to score a lot of crits... 

Ancalagon


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## Lars Frehse

Glad to hear you are still around!  

Regarding that Ranger, actually in the battle against the harpies, the player of Torn, the half orc, complained that Eochaid was stealing all the kills- the harpies he shot down had all been heavily wounded by the time he killed them. 

Apart from that, Eochaid worked well as the character to hand out when one player passed out during a battle- this way, they still had part of the action.

Anyway, without further ado, here comes the next chapter: A Veshian Voyage!


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## Lars Frehse

*Chapter 8- A Veshian voyage part1*

Once they were all healed and rested, Torn approached Eochaid, who was just mending his leatherarmor by the lakeside.

“You had mentioned that there is mostly marshlands between here and the next town.”.

The ranger let his tools sink to his lap and said: “That is correct. The town is about sixty miles from here, and more then three quarters of the way are marshlands.”

“Do you think we could build us a raft and use that one to get there? There will be plenty of mosquitos, ticks and bugs already, I could very well do without wading through bogwater full of leeches.”.

“Sure, but unless one of you guys knows how to build one, we will need help from some locals.”

They went back to the village, and after asking around, they found two young men who were willing to help them. Jan put a few goldpieces into their palms, and they eagerly got to work.

After three days, the raft was ready: It was measuring some twenty five by twenty five feet in length, and there was one tent set up in it’s middle. Next to the tent were the mules and the equipment was fastened to the raft in small, rainproof bundles.

Niklas and Torn used long stakes to move the raft, and after waving goodbye to the good villagers who had treated them so well, they slowly moved into the marshes.

The heat was oppressive. There was hardly any wind at all during that first day, so the air was humid and the water was reeking. By the end of that day, all of the adventurers had been served as feasts for various mosquitos and other bloodsucking vermin and at night, it hardly cooled off, causing uneasy and feverish dreams.

On the next day, they avoided an island of bloodstools, fistsized mushrooms that exploded when approached, dousing everything in range in a highly poisonous bloodlike liquid. As they carefully moved their raft around the colony, Ben silently thanked his mentor for the good training he had received.

As the adventurers moved the raft through the marshlands, the heat remained, until on the following day, the wind picked up and thunder roared in the distant. At the prospect of rain, the general mood on the small raft generally improved and all were waiting now, anticipating the first drop of cooling rain on their skin.

Torn and Niklas kept the raft stable in the strong wind as at last the rain started falling in fat drops. Trepat was hit by a drop on his arm, and as he was about to tilt his head into his neck in order to catch all the drops he can, he saw that the drop of rain on his arm was no ordinary water. Instead, it was a drop of blood.

His eyes widened: He had been in Durrover, behind a protective range of mountains for decades, but he had never forgotten the terrible blood monsoon that had destroyed his home almost fourty years ago. Even though this weather right now was nothing compared to the catastrophe back then, he nonetheless realized the danger of even such a small bloodrain.
“Don’t drink it!” he shouted, “This rain is tainted by Kadum’s blood!”

Seeing that he had the attention of his fellow travellers, he continued:” This rain comes from the blood sea, and we should by all means avoid ingesting it in any form.”

Ben answered and had to shout over another thundering of the approaching storm:” We all have tiny wounds from the insects here, we should go into the tent.”.

Torn shook his head:” No, you go into the tent, I will stay out here, and make sure we don’t run into floatsam or tilt in the storm.”.

Niklas took another stake and got up to help Torn, and as the others went into the tent, the two of them maneuvered the raft. The storm got stronger and there were small waves that washed over the small raft, and for an hour that seemed to last for a day, they were busy keeping the raft in one piece- they had to avoid whole trees that had gotten uprooted and make sure that they stayed within the area that would still be flooded once the rain and the storm had stopped.

Eventually, though, the thunderstorm passed by, and after they had cleared the raft and themselves of the blood, they went into an exhausted sleep and Eochaid and Jan took over in moving the raft.

On the next morning, Niklas awoke screaming. He had had unsettling dreams of terror and destruction during most of the night, and even now he thought he saw the shape of Kadum the Mountainshaker in a nearby tree. He was shivering and sweating even more profusely than the days before. Even worse, he was not merely sweating- he was sweating blood.

Ben examined him, worried about his friends, and after a short while, he swallowed and said: “I am sorry to tell you, but you’ve got a disease called “blood fever”.”.

Eochaid, who knew the disease, worriedly bit his lower lip, and Niklas, who was still shaking, asked Ben:” And what does that mean?”.

Ben, who was used to accepting diseases as a part of nature, answered:” As you are experiencing now, the disease starts with trembling and sweating blood. Then, after some days, you will become fully evil and corrupted, and after that, you will fall into a homicidal rage, and attack everyone in range.

“I am sorry, but I think it would be for the best if we tie you down and fix you to one place for the time being.”.

Niklas nodded and laid down on a cot where he was tied down. After having rechecked the ropes and knots for the third time, Ben asked Eochaid: “How long do you think it will take until we reach that town?”.

“Five or six days”, the ranger answered.

Ben lowered his voice: “Good, I will try to see what I can do. But he needs to get to a temple- mundane means will only get us this far, here... I think it is unlikely that I will be able to cure him here, without the aid of a more experienced druid than myself.  No matter what happens though, as long as the ropes hold, he should have a good chance of survival. If there is one thing I have learned back in Durrover is that his people may lack in charm, but they are a tough people…”

Ben returned to the side of his friend and fixed him a cup of tea that would lower the fever a little. After he had given Niklas the tea, he continued treating him as well as he could, using herbs he had found in the mountains and here in the swamps while Jan, the monk’s half brother, made sure that his brother was resting well and he used a small towel to wipe the bloodsweat of his forehead.

They both knew that except for that, all they could do for now was wait and hope.


----------



## Nightfall

Poor Nicklas! Man I always hated the Blood Fever. Even more now! But still let's hope our intriped band can wade out this crisis.


----------



## SSS-Druid

This is spectacular, Lars!  I must admit to really enjoying your Story Hour.

It sounds like everyone is having quite a bit of fun.


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## Lars Frehse

Nightfall- you will see how they handle the crisis right next!

And Joseph, thanks! We are all enjoying this campaign quite a bit. My players all enjoy the Scarred Lands setting quite a lot, and I think that it will only be getting better now.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*A Veshian Voyage part 2*

During the day, it got even hotter than the days before, and everyone was now visibly suffering from the heat wave, worst of all Niklas. The monk drifted in and out of conciousness, and whenever he fell asleep, he eventually woke up screaming.

In spite of the disease, he was able to retain his sanity, though, and on the next morning, he was visibly recovering- his stamina and Ben’s tea seemed to be working just fine. Jan used his divine powers to check on his brother, and saw that Niklas hadn’t been conquered by the evil taint of Kadum just yet.

So, Ben was able to leave the raft, when in the afternoon, they discovered a small beautiful island, that seemed untouched by the taint of the surrounding land. Here, the halfling was able to replenish his collection of healing plants, and as he looked around, he excitedly noticed some white and green blossomed orchids.

He recognized them for what they were right away: they were Orchids of the Earth mother- rare plants that were used for all kinds of magic by the druids of Denev. Carefully, he plugged four of the flowers, making certain that enough plants were left behind to grow back. Then, he returned to the raft, and they moved on.

On the next morning, Niklas seemed to be doing even better then before. He was hardly shaking anymore and the blood sweat was gone as well. They considered freeing him, as Jan used his power to look into the heart of men on him, and he saw that the monk was now purely evil.

So, while Niklas was screaming obsceneties at them now, they let the ropes remain, and after they had gotten tired of his unending blasphemies and mockeries, they gagged him as well, only occassionaly removing the gag to give him food and drink.

It was a depressing journey now. Their friend was possessed by the evil of Kadum, who was chained to the bottom of the ocean and they were still far away from the next settlement of divine folks, while their sturdy raft was frustratingly slow in bringing them back to civilization.

Another day and another night passed, as they slowly moved to the northeast, and finally, on the eighth day of their journey through the marches, they reached secure land.

They took their equipment of the raft that had served them so well, and packed together all their stuff. As they picked up the stretcher that they had tied Niklas too, the monk’s eyes flared up with hatred and bloodlust, and he struggled against the rope and tried to wiggle free.

However, the ropes held, and all he did was cutting and hurting himself with the ropes, until he was bleeding badly at his wrists and ankles, where he was tied to the stretcher. He had reached the final stage of the disease now- homicidal mindless bloodlust.

The adventurers put the stretcher between their two mules, and marched towards the small town of Vigont.

By the time they reached the town in the evening, the monk was unconcious from exhaustion, and after Eochaid exchanged some words with the guards, they were let inside and guided to the local temple of Madriel, the redeemer.

The houses of vigont were pressed into a small, walled area, and so it felt rather crowded, in spite of the fact that it’s mere 2.500 inhabitants made it look small when compared to cities like Lave, Durrover or Mithril. It was surrounded by a strong wall and even a moat filled with water from a nearby river, since it’s proximity to the mourning marshes made it more likely to be attacked then the towns in the heartland.

The adventurers lead the mule with Niklas through the narrow roads to the temple, which was on the central square, opposite the fortress like town hall. As they entered the temple, they saw that parts of it were used as a hospital. The patients on the beds were mostly tied down, and they too were sweating blood and cursing and screaming- obviously Niklas wasn’t the only one infected with Kadum’s fever.

Between the beds, there were several priests and helpers going to and fro and they were treating the ill and taking care of all the chores that have to be done in a hospital, creating quite a chaos in the crowded hall.

As the heroes were standing there with their mules, they were approached by a young priestess who looked compassionately down at Niklas: “Greetings, gentlemen. My name is Lona, and I am a priestess of Madriel. I see that  you brought another infected one.”

Jan bowed politely and after introducing his friends and himself, he said:” My brother has the blood fever, so we were wondering whether you could cure him?”

“Certainly” Lona answered:” But I am sorry, I’m afraid that unless you are ready to make a contribution, we will have to treat him with mundane means in here. After all, there are many sick, and we need to take care of them all, while our power to cure with out divine gifts doesn’t suffice to help all of those struck by this epidemie.”

“And how long do you think this would take if you would cure him by mundane means?”, Torn asked shrewdly.

“With a young man like him, it should take about a week until he has fully recovered.”.

Trepat shook his head:” There is no way we can wait for so long.”, and after lowering his voice, so that only his friends could here him he said:”We don’t know who else might be after the Amphora. There could still be Slitheren or worshipers of Belsameth. Let’s pool our gold and see what we got.”.

They pulled out their purses, and after some checking and rechecking, they saw that they had just enough gold for his magical cure and the fees for a few nights in a guesthouse. Jan put the correct amount into a purse and handed it to Lona.

The priestess apologized once again:”Thank you very much, good gentlemen. Let me assure you once again, that normally the servants of Madriel don’t demand pay for curing the sick.”

And with that she knelt down in front of the stretcher, and after a short prayer to Madriel, she gently put the palm of her right hand on Niklas’ forehead, who instantly stopped straining against the ropes and let his head peacefully sink back.

“His mind and his body are cured now. He may need some time to recover from the fatigue, but otherwise he is fine.”.

Gratefully, the others tied Niklas loose who was finally freed of the nightmares and the madness and shakily, he stood up.

They all thanked Lona and went out into the late evening to find an inn. Once they had found one, they all took long and soaking bathes, washing away the sweat and dirt of their long journey. After that, they listened to a Veshian bard in the dining room where they had a long and hearty meal. Then, filled with food, wine and music, they went to their rooms, and gratefully hugging their beds and praising the heavens for a floor that wasn’t rocking and a room without mosquitos, they all fell into a long and refreshing sleep.

The next morning, they stayed at the inn, while Eochaid went to the local Vigils in order to get them horses. At noon, Eochaid was still out, reporting to his superiors, as they all settled down for a hearty lunch. 

As they were eating, a dark haired man in elegant clothing approached them:” Good sirs, I am sorry to disturb you at your meal, but would you mind if I join you?”

Not ready to stop with their meal, they ate on and gestured for him to take a seat. The man took a chair, ordered some of the house’s best wine, and after the bottles had been served and he had poured a glass for each of them, he said: “My name is Karst, and I have a business proposal.”.


----------



## Nightfall

Lars Frehse said:
			
		

> *Nightfall- you will see how they handle the crisis right next!
> 
> And Joseph, thanks! We are all enjoying this campaign quite a bit. My players all enjoy the Scarred Lands setting quite a lot, and I think that it will only be getting better now. *




Especially when R&R2 comes out and Calastia huh?


----------



## Nightfall

Mmm well I'm glad Nicky is better. I was rather worried about him. Glad the taint didn't get too bad for him. In any case, should be interesting to see if they take up Karst's offer.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*A Veshian Voyage part 3*

Feeling generous, Ben motioned for the man to go ahead: “We are always interested in offers. So, go ahead!”

Karst smiled at them and said: “Now, my employer has heard of a certain item you are carrying with you, and he is willing to pay you the item 600 pieces of platinum for it.”.

Jan pushed back his glass of wine, and Niklas said:”That is very kind of you, but we can not sell this item, if we are talking about the same thing.”

“Ah, naturally you would have to make sure we are talking about the same object. Well, we know you are in posession of a vessel that is used to hold a rare substance. Anyway, since I understand that you are reluctant, I raise the offer to 700 pieces of platinum.”.

Ben took another sip of wine, and said:” That does sound interesting. But at the very least, we would have to know who your employer is.”.

Ignoring Jan, who was about to protest against any kind of negotiation, the dark man shook his head in regret: “Well, I am very sorry, but I am not free to divulge that piece of information.”.

Before Jan could answer, Torn said:” In that case, I am sorry, but I think we would have to know who would end up with the object, first.”

“I understand your concerns. But maybe 800 pieces of platinum could lessen your worries?”

Except for Jan, the adventurers were taken aback now. This was quite a lot of money. However, the Paladin was consternated by his friends’ consideration: “Hello? There is no way in hell we are going to sell the Amphora!”.

Karst gently touched Jan’s arm and lowered his voice conspiratively:” Sir, I hate to interrupt you, but you really shouldn’t say so much in a public building. After all, you never know who is listening. Let’s just call it the item, allright?”

Jan nodded:”Right. But, as I said, the “item” is not for sale.”.

Karst looked at Jan with admiration:”I applaud your sense of duty. So, let me simply tell you and your friends that my employer allowed me to offer up to 1.000 pieces of platinum for the item. And if you would agree, we could do the transaction by this evening.”.

“ I am sorry. But no matter how much money you offer, we can’t just sell it to an unknown bidder.”, Jan answered.

“ Right. But just like you are bound by your word of honor and your duty, so am I, and I have sworn not to reveal who my employer is. However, I can go and try to persuade him to meet with you, so that you can consider his offer then. I do not want you to rush any decisions, after all!”.

The adventurers agreed to consider his offer, and after they had chatted for awhile about the weather and local fashion, they told Karst to meet him again next noon. Then, after the mysterious negotiator had left, they retreated into a backroom.

Once the door was closed, Niklas said:” We gotta get out of this town before this night. Whoever is willing to pay 1.000 pieces of platinum for the amphora, will likely pay the same amount of money as a reward on our heads and get the prize this way!”

They all agreed, and when Eochaid arrived, they told him what had happened, and that they wanted to get out of town as quickly as possible.

“Good plan, but the commander of the garrison told me it would take a few days to get some horses.”, said the Ranger.

“But this is an emergeny!”, Ben said and Trepat asked:” Maybe if we tell him that we need them now, he could give us horses that are in use by the local guard.”.

The ranger shrugged: “We could go and try, of course.”

And with that, they went to the local garrison, and with Eochaid guiding them, they were able to pass through to the commander, a wild elf Vigilant called Lamberton.

They explained the situation to him, and once he understood the urgency, he was able to give them five horses that were currently in use by local troops. After that, he and Trepat had some time for themselves, and they talked about the growing xenophobia in Vera Tre, the city of the elves. Lately, the center of Elvish culture in Ghelspad was redrawing more and more from their former allies.

Then, at dusk, Lamberton showed them a secret passage out of the city and lead them to the horses, which were already waiting for them near a small forest outside of town. He wished them luck, and the heroes rode off into the evening.

There was one thing our heroes were certain about: Whoever tried to contact them in Lave had either a spynetwork, supernatural abilities or both. After all, they had been in Vigont for merely one day when they were contacted. And before that, they had traversed the unpopulated marshes for two weeks. Even if titanspawn from the bloodsteppes had been chasing them, it would have been almost impossible to track them through the marshes. Another alternative were Calastian agents- but still it was odd that they were contacted no twentyfour hours after reaching the small town.

So, for the next days, the heroes kept to the backroads and paths. They avoided all major villages and roads and hoped that they could shake all possible pursuers and reach Lave without getting in touch with any possible “network”.

So, they rode through the hilly countryside, and occasionaly, they took some fruits and vegetables from local fields to replenish their rations. Even Jan went along, since he too understood that they couldn’t talk to any farmers who would remember them.

After a week, they had crossed half of Vesh, and they put up camp in an apple orchard. Then, late at night, Ben heard the sound of metal grinding against metal. The sound was exactly like the Paladin sounded, when he tried to move silently, and so he was on his knees immediately, and he woke up his friends.

Just as all of them were standing, six ratmen walked up through the underbrush. They were surrounding the camp, and each of them was equipped differently. Two of them were wearing half plate armor that was customized for their rodent bodies, and they were wielding bastard swords and a shield, two others were wearing light armors, and they were sporting rapiers and bows, and another one was wearing a bear’s fur as an armor, and he was adorned with the symbols of Chern, the diseased Titan.

The sixth one, was wearing no armor, but elegant clothes instead. He was standing behind one of the heavily armored Slitheren, and when he spoke, all of the adventurers recognized the voice of Karst, the “man” they had talked to in Vigont!

He said:” Too bad. You should have taken the money when you still had the chance to.”.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*A veshian Voyage*

The armored slitheren charged into the adventurers and engaged in melee while the two bowmen shot arrows. Torn and Jan tried to get to Karst, but one of the armored ones kept blocking the way.

Torn fell into a rage and swung his axe. He hit him with the rage of Kadum in his body, and hitting his neck, he chopped off the slitheren’s head. Then, he charged at Karst, but the slitheren cast a spell and disappeared. 

By now, the other armored ratman had wounded Niklas, and as Ben healed the monk, Eochaid crossed his sword with the blade of the slitheren. Meanwhile, the rat-druid had cast a spell, and he was throwing small balls of fire that kept appearing in his hand at the adventurers.

Jan defeated one of the bowwielding rats with his sword and Trepat killed another one by magic, but then Karst reappeared behind the druid and cast a spell at Eochaid, knocking him out with a magical missile.

Torn and Jan now engaged the remaining fighter. This one was obviously more experienced and disciplined then the ones they had fought untill then. On his shield, he was wearing the sign of his brood- a white ratskull on a black background.

He blocked Torn’s axe and then used Torn’s rage against him- the half orc had opened his defense, and the ratman struck him at his neck. Torn fell down bleeding, and Ben circled around to close the wound of his dying friend.

Trepat cast a sleep spell at the druid and the wizard who had posed as a human earlier, and the wizard fell asleep. Now, the other rat cast a spell, and a scimitar of fire appeared in his hand.

Just then, Jan succeeded in finding an opening in his tired opponent’s defense and struck him down, just in time to face the druid of Chern. Trepat and Ben where holding their fire, since they didn’s want to hit their friends, and Jan struck the remaining rat, but as the rat attacked in turn, they saw that his armor offered no protection against the fire of the blade. Heavily wounded, he went down.

Now, Ben and Trepat shot their sling and arrow, and they hit him again. The druid was heavily wounded but still standing by now, and he went after Ben. The little halfling dodged his blows, and as he was avoiding the blows, Trepat hit the rat again, felling him.

All their enemies were defeated by now, and not losing any time, Ben went around and healed his companions while Trepat walked to the sleeping wizard, and chopped of the slitheren’s head with his scimitar.

When Eochaid was healed, he pointed at the symbol the rats wore:” Those are Chern’s followers, the diseased ones. They seem to be interested in uniting the other slitheren under their fist, and they are also the most civilized ones. As far as we know, they have entire towns and cities in the mourning marshes.

“Actually, we have waged full scaled battles against them, and not won all of them. I can imagine that they intended to strengthen their ties with the blood witches with the amphora…”

Once all off the companions were doing well enough to be standing again, they thanked their gods for victory and then went over to looting their defeated enemies. Then, they followed the slitheren’s trail, and turning around a corner, they stood in front of six strange beasts.

They were horsesized rats, and they wore saddles and bridles. Obviously, they were the riding animals of the heroes’ purchasers. Ben cautiously approached them, making calming noises, and after a little while, he had succeeded in putting the beast at ease about his presence.

He examined the animals that towered above him and seeing, that their front legs were shorter than their hindlegs, he figured out that those rats seemed to walk on their hindlegs and run with their bodies almost paralell to the ground.

“I could ride one of those”, he said, smiling brightly and then went over to examine the animals in order to find the strongest and kindest one for himself.

Once he had picked a female as his riding animal, he cut the others loose, sending them of into the night.

Niklas approached him:”You know that we are in the grainbelt of Vesh, here?”

“Sure. This means that they won’t have to suffer from starvation, at least!”.

Niklas shrugged and after Ben had cut them loose, the sun was already rising, and they rode towards Lave. Ben used his druidic powers to bond his horserat to himself, but the horses of the others were still nervous around the rat, and so Ben stayed in the back, happy as a clam about his new companion.

The sun was shining down at them and later that day, when Torn was riding next to Jan he asked the Paladin:”And, you don’t mind he let those rats lose here in the middle of all those farms and villages?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I have checked, and they aren’t evil”, Jan answered.

But this doesn’t dull their claws and teeth, Torn thought. He was pretty certain that a farmer or a cow was no match for a rat like the one Ben was riding now. Jan had a good heart, but sometimes he was a rather naïve man…

For the rest of their journey to Lave, nothing exciting happened. The only hostility they encountered were occasional farmers who weren’t happy to see a rat that was bigger then any of their farm animals. But seeing a Paladin and a Vigilant usually convinced them that everything was under control.

So, after another week, they reached Lave, the capital of Vesh. The city was built with granite and marble and it’s rooftops were shining in the sun. Leaving Ben, who’s rat wasn’t allowed inside, behind, they walked straight to the Hall of Command.

After stating their purpose, they were shown directly to Vigilant Marshal Kinthas Ardante Silverblade, the highest ranking Vigilant. The seasoned veteran thanked them, and at last, they were able to give the Amphora out of their hands, and for all of them it felt like rocks that were no longer pressing on their heart.

They were rewarded with gold and a wand that enhanced the strength of a man, and then after a small dinner in their honor they were free again, and they could resume their journey to Mithril at leisure.

The next days, they relaxed and recovered, replenished their provisions and bought some scrolls and a new wand of healing, since the one they had found in Squirrel Nutkin’s forest was almost emptied by now.

Then, they said good bye to their new friend Eochaid, and left Lave, following the Hornswythe river towards Mullis town.


----------



## Ancalagon

ooh, a rat-horse!

How good are they, compared to a normal horse?

I bet the heroes are glad to thave that bloody thing (pun intended) out of their hand.

Ancalagon


----------



## Nightfall

Yes MORE Slitheren/Ratmen!  Good thing they didn't trust Karst. But one wonders WHERE they could get that much platinium?  Still great stuff, the Amphora is now out their hands (thank the gods!) and now off to find new adventures!


----------



## Nightfall

A bump for goodness! And the hopeful update of this story hour soon!


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## Nightfall

A bump for goodness! And the hopeful update of this story hour soon!


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## Lars Frehse

Thank you for the bump!
Anc, a horserat is much stronger then a horse. It can attack with it's claws and bite and it can use the pin feat. Those five rats can overcome any low level opposition... Incidentally, when the druid released those horserats, I was glad to see how the player of the Paladin played out his character's low intelligence score...
Anyway, tomorrow I will go into my honeymoon and my wife and me will spend two weeks in Bulgaria. So, since we will swim in the black sea and go sightseeing. This is good, but it means no updates from me in the next two week.
I want to post one small part today, though. When I come back, I will update my storyhour accordingly, so that it is up to date prior to the next session.

In the meantime, my players told me they intended to put their characters online. As soon as they are done making a small website, they will post the link here.

But now I am off to writing the next part, and I will definetly post it before I start packing.


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## Lars Frehse

Before I post the next actual update, I would like to say a word about it's origin.

The first half of the chapter is based on *The Trembling Hill* by John Tynes. 

It is a small adventure that was published in The Campaign Magazine, a d20 magazine by Corsair Publishing.
It was also published in "En Route", a sourcebook by Atlas Games.


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## Lars Frehse

*Free your mind part 1*

Free your mind

It was a pleasant summerday as the adventurers left Lave. The sun was shining, the sky was blue and there were enough small streams and lakes along the way to refresh from the heat. In the evenings, they stayed in small inns along the road to Mullis Town and enjoyed Veshian songs, food and hospitality.

After a few days, they had covered about half the way between Lave and Mullis Town, and their horses got nervous and the more the men pressed their steeds to ride on, the more they balked. Clearly, they didn’t want to ride the road any further.

So, the heroes dismounted, and now they noticed a faint vibration in the ground. It almost felt like something was humming in the earth. And after looking around for a while, they noticed something even more peculiar: The air around them was distorted.

The distortion looked like heatwaves on a hot day on a road, but there was a pattern to the flimmering air. It looked as if a giant net made of air was covering everything in sight.

Torn climbed up a tree, and looking at the “net” from above, he saw that it seemed to have the form of a vast, circular spiderweb. And the center of it seemed to be further along the road in the direction they were heading to.

After getting back to his friends, he told them about what he had seen. There was a short discussion whether they should circle around the strange phenomenom or go to the center to investigate it further. After all, no one of them had ever heard of anything like it, and it was on the way, anyway. On the other hand, it could also mean danger, here in the sparely populated hilllands of northern Vesh.

They debated for a while, as their mounts were nervously waiting for their masters’ decision, and eventually, curiosity got the better of them, and they left all their mounts but the apparently fearless horserat, behind.

After two hours, as the sun was setting, they reached the source of the vibration and the net. By now, they could actually hear the buzz. There was a great quarter mile furrow in the earth that ran from a grassy field to a house sized hill of disturbed earth. The hill was visibly vibrating and at the point where the furrow reached the hill, there was a small rectangular opening.

Trepat looked around and noticed that the shimmering net formed a funnel whose curves were folding directly into the mouth of the cave. He pointed it out to the others and Niklas drily commented:”Maybe that is a trap for curios people.”.

Torn shrugged and climbed down the furrow towards the entrance:”Well, if it is, then it is really a success.”.

The others followed him, and then they entered the cave through the small opening.

Once inside, they all noticed that something was definetly wrong in there.The air was much thicker in there than it was outside, making it difficult to breathe. And once they had adjusted to the air, they all noticed, that the three strange corridors, that were leading ahead and to the left and right were much longer then they could possibly be. They were longer then the small hill they were in was big.

The ceiling was ten foot high and there was a layer of greenish mist partially obscuring the floor about a foot of the ground. The walls were azure, uneven and slightly soft to the touch.

Ben pulled out his knive, and cut into the wall, which to their mutual surprise started “bleeding” grenish blood right away. Then, just as Jan was about to lay his healing hand on the “wound”, it closed again, leaving no scars behind.

Puzzled they looked at each other, as they heard a cow mooing. The sound was seemingly coming from all three corridors.

Ben was disturbed:” Let’s get out of here again!”. And with that, he turned to leave through the hatch again.

Jan held him back:” Let us look around a bit first. After all, nothing bad has happened to us yet.”

“Yes, and there will only be something bad happening if we stay long enough for it to occur in the first place!”, Ben answered, but he stayed nonetheless.

Jan walked into one of the corridors and the others followed him, guarding his back. As he came to a part of the corridor with an opening to the right and left, he looked into the right doorway.

Behind the doorway, there was a huge chamber that looked like the inside of a collosal gibbering mouther. It was piled high with mounds of shifting, mewling, protoplasmic flesh that was constantly spawning and collapsing eyes, tendrils and mouths while small ripples of lighting rippled over it’s surface.

Jan tried to hide his surprise, and greeted the mass of flesh, but whatever it was, it seemed to be oblivious of him. As his friends closed in to stare at the strange thing, Jan turned around. The room behind the other doorway was almost empty except for five transparent spheres of about mansize that were floating in the air.

He turned around again and saw Torn poking his head around the doorway. After he had pulled his head back, the half-orc said:” Whatever this thing in there is, the hall it is in should cross the corridor we are in. Apart from that, it is higher then the hill we are in…”.

Trepat cast a spell and added:” The weirdest thing is that it is not even magical.”

Now, Jan poked his head in as well:” Neither is it evil.”.

Ben seemed to be ready to leave:” But it sure as hell is spooky in here.”

Torn turned around and went into the beginning of the opposite corridor, there he looked right, and to his surprise, he looked into the same room that his friends were looking into the room with the shifting flesh as well. Now, he even saw his friends in an opposite doorway, talking about what to do next. He turned around to look into the corridor again, and there they were, too!

Having decided, that the “doorways” were in fact most likely portals to separate structures somewhere, he turned around. And there, in a room that looked like an alchemist’s labatory, he saw a cow floating in the air. It was mooing dreamily, and around it, there were five five feet tall, naked humanoids with grey skin and big jetblack eyes.


----------



## Nightfall

Sweet! Thanks for update Lars! I certainly hope you and your wife have a nice time on the Black Sea! Anyway I'm glad you used the Trembling Hill. It's one of my favorites.


----------



## Lars Frehse

Hi!
I found a little Internetcafe here in Bulgaria and just wanted to wave hello from my honeymoon!


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## Nightfall

Hi Lars! We miss you! Well your Story Hour at least!


----------



## Lars Frehse

Cautiously, Jan stepped into the room and slowly waved his hand: “Greetings! We come to you in peace.”.

Now, the creatures turned around to face the Paladin. They appeared puzzled but calm and after a short while, they started mewling to each other. Having made contact, Jan smiled at them, showing them his empty hands. But the grey humanoids seemed to be unimpressed and after they had apparently finished their conversation, they turned away from the human intruder and returned to examining the floating cow.

Jan turned to his friends, who were now crowding the entrance and looking into the room: “It doesn’t look like they would exactly mind us being here.”.

Ben rolled his eyes: “They are not exactly welcoming us either. I will wait outside. This place is just wrong.”.

Torn nodded:”Alright. I want to explore some more.”.

And so Ben and Trepat left the cave while the others went on to explore it further.

Outside, the elf and the halfling saw that they weren’t alone anymore: Up on the edge of the furrow, they saw three ratmen in the dying light of dusk. Each of the slitheren was wearing a simple long robe and the only weapons they seemed to be carrying were mansized staffs. They seemed to be blind, and they were radiating an air of peace.

The middle one of them nodded slowly and then spoke to them with a strong and serene voice:” Please, don’t be afraid. One of you serves Denev, so we hope you understand. We are the Unseeing- Slitheren of the brood of Golthain.”.

Ben raised his hand in peace:”We mean you no harm either.”.

“Good then. My name is Warken and these are my fellows Shugen and Sisimia. We have come here because whatever has created this mound was made by neither titan nor god. If you don’t mind, we would like to take a closer look.”.

Trepat nodded in agreement and Ben said:” This is my friend Trepat and my name is Ben. There are three more friends of us in the structure right now, but they are reasonable as well, so you don’t have to fear them, either.”.

As the ratmen went down into the ditch, a shadowraven materialized out of nowhere and landed on the shoulder of the leader of the ratmen. It looked like the one that had mysteriously helped the heroes against the Sargons back in the Kelder mountains.

After the Unseeing had climbed down and were now facing the two friends on the ground of the ditch, Trepat adressed Warken:” We once encountered one of these ravens before, and he helped us when we were in dire trouble. So, I wonder whether there is any special connection between your people and the shadowravens.”.

Warken seemed to be genuinely puzzled:” This is the first time I hear of a shadowraven interfering on behalf of divine folk… This is odd…

“But let me answer your question. As you may know, Golthain was filled with compassion for all living beings. To him it didn’t matter whether those beings were “monsters”, animals, Titanspawn or divine folks. When he created beings, or relied on creatures as his ears and eyes, he infused those creatures with that compassion and understanding. That is why shadowravens, which he created, and we, the unseeing, who he had used as his ears, are infused with the same spirit.

“Tok, the one who sits on my shoulder right now, is my familiar. He serves as my eyes, so to speak.”.


Meanwhile, in the mound, Jan, Niklas and Torn had moved further along the corridor. There, they saw a large cave in which there were thousands and thousands of small orbs floating on the ceiling. In each of them, there were gray ones like the ones they had encountered before, but smaller. All of them were about one foot tall and seemed to be sleeping.

After some debate, the friends turned around, and found themselves looking into the chamber with the seven spheres into which they had already peeked from the opposite corridor.

More confused then ever, they walked further down the corridor and turned into a long chamber with a long glass tube, ten feet in diameter and fifty feet in length that floated unsupported in the middle of the room. Each end was capped with a morass of slightly damp, pulsing material that looked more than a little alive. The tube pulsed with a strange light and again, the three decided to be cautious lest they end like the proverbial curious cat.

They turned around and entered another hall. This one, though, contained some familiar things,although in unfamiliar surroundings.

In this hall there were dozens of transparent spheres like the ones they had seen everywhere in this hill. Yet these spheres were filled with all kinds of creatures. Some of them were familiar, of some they had heard and others were completey unknown.

Among the creatures they knew were two orks, a spider eyed goblin, a giant ant, a blade beast and many more. There was also a dwarf wearing leather armor floating ten feet over them.

After a little talk, they decided to get the others and try to free the dwarf. They went back into the corridor just as Trepat and Ben entered the hill with the three ratmen.

“Don’t worry, they are Golthain’s brood!”, said Trepat and his three friends down the corridor relaxed.

The three ratmen, though, suddenly lost their calm and got agitated.

“Do you think it is him?”, one of them asked, and another answered:” But this can’t be. It had been far away from here.”.

Warken quieted his two fellows and said to them:” Best if I ask him.”.

He turned to Jan, who, like his friends, was wondering what this frantic exchange had been all about: “Greetings, good Paladin. Tell me, how did you get into posession of this small amulet you are wearing?”

“My mother had it before me and she wanted me to have it when I am grown up.”.

“I see. And where do you come from?”

“Oreirover, a small village in western Durrover. But why do you ask?”.

Warken was visibly moved:” Because I was there when you were born and I was the one who crafted the amulet you are wearing right now.”


----------



## Ancalagon

Now that is a twist I did not see coming...

If I was them though, I would SO be geting the hell out of there...

Ancalagon


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Free your mind part 3*

Jan was speechless, and Warken continued:" I would love to tell you more, and I am ready to answer all your questions, but I would like to examine this hill here first. Something tells me we should hurry.".

The Paladin nodded in agreement:" Yes, you are right. We should focus on this place for now".  And with that, Jan summoned all his discipline to calm his racing mind and concentrate on what was up ahead.

Even though the ratmen were blind, they seemed to compensate their lack of sight with other, supernatural senses, for they moved around with the confidence of seeing creatures. The Unseeing examined everything with an air of calm curiosity and then walked into the room with the many suspended creatures. There, the adventurers were debating what to do in order to free the dwarf. Entering the risk that the dwarf could get hurt, Niklas threw a dagger at the sphere in which he was hovering, but it bounced back, not leaving a scratch in the sphere.

Warken, who had "watched" the dagger falling to the ground, turned his blind face to Niklas and asked:" Do you want to free that one up there?"

"Yes."

"Let me try, then"

The Unseeing gestured while uttering some arcane words and a thin, green ray sprang from his finger towards the sphere. Immediately, the sphere disappeared, and the dwarf, who was still unconcious, crashed fifteen feet to the mist covered bottom of the cave. Except for Trepat, all of them surrounded the dwarf in order to see how he was doing. The elf was the only one who had recognized the sheer magical power Warken was wielding, which was far beyond anything Trepat had witnessed so far, and he curiously studied the calm leader of the slitheren.

Jan knelt down in order to heal the damage the fall had done to the dwarf, as he, in turn, groaned and slowly regained his conciousness. He was just getting up, as the wall to their right started to move. It quickly grew two mansized boils which transformed into green, amorphous creatures, with several tentacles, on which they now moved menacingly towards the group. At the same time, two grey ones came out of the entranceway. Both were carrying small metallic objects in their hands, and they seemed to be upset about the recent liberation of the dwarf.

Torn raised his axe, and one of the greys activated his metallic object. A small ray shot forth, and the entire head of his greataxe was transformed into gold. Even though it was nice to look at, it was now completely useless in a battle, so the halforc lowered it again while taking a step backwards.

The amorphous creatures where now threatening the intruders with their tentacles and the other grey one transformed Trepat's bow into silver. Seeing no other alternative, the divine folks and the Slitheren ran out of the cave.

Outside, the trembling got even stronger then before, and all of them ran down the ditch, away from the hill. Just as they had reached the end of it, the hill exploded and a housesized triangular disc appeared. It flew up and hovered a few yards over the ground for a few seconds and then shot off, disappearing into the nightsky.

When the little shining dot had completely disappeared, Trepat was the first one to break the silence: "You remember the slarecian structure we found in the Kelder mountains? There, on the moving picture in the big hall, there was a small dot moving from one planet to another. Maybe that was it.".

Warken kept his head raised to the sky as he said:" Travellers between the planets, you mean? That would make sense. After all, these visitors were neither titanspawn nor divine folk..."

The adventurers nodded and remained silent. After all, the day had been full of surprises. The flying object and the strange, peaceful slitheren were so stunning, that they had completely forgotten about the dwarf they had rescued. He in turn, now adressed them:" I think I have to offer you my thanks.".

Niklas was the first to react:"Yes, sure. Nevermind.".

"Still I wonder what a champion of Corean has to do with some Slitheren."

"Oh, don't mind them. They are of the brood of Golthain and peaceful", answered Ben.

"Yeah, whatever, anyway, where am I?"

"We are halfway between Lave and Mullistown.".

"What, you mean we are in bleeding Vesh?".

Jan answered:"Yes, where did you think you were?".

"When those grey ones picked me up, I was in the Ukrudan desert. You gotta know: I am a freelancing adventurer, and I was exploring some ruins in that desert. I like working alone, and a dwarf can be really alone in that desert. Anyway, I had been in the middle of nowhere, marching through the night, because during the day, it is too bloody hot to move, as there was this light over me. And, before I could do anything, I was stunned and those freaks had picked me up!".

The dwarf stopped in his narration, and noticing that they didn't even know his name, Niklas introduced his friends and himself. Then, he asked how much time had passed since then and and what had happened on board of the strange vessel:" Oh, my name's Grom by the way. I dunno how long they kept me up there... But I remember that they examined me... I definetly remembered that they stuck things up my ass... Those freaks... Come to think of it, that seemed to be the only thing they were interested in: Sticking long metallic objects up my hairy ass!".

Ben asked him what he planned to do now, and Grom told them that he wanted to get back to the desert as fast as possible. So, after a short goodbye, he walked southwards towards Lave, where he wanted to take a ship.

The heroes were now alone with the slitheren who invited them to spend the night in their lair with them, so that they could tell them about Jan and his mother there. They thanked their newfound friends and, after  examining the crater, where they found a few tiny diamonds which seemed to have been left behind by the flying object, they picked up their animals, and followed the slitheren to a small grove in a nearby wood.

There were some small huts and tents and about a hundred of the unseeing who curiosly moved their heads towards the visitors. Everything here radiated peace and calm and even the heroes' steeds were now loosing the anxiety the vessel's vibrations had instilled in them.


----------



## Ancalagon

probing, bwahaha!!!

ahem

Wow, that "gold ray" is quite nifty.  A great axe weights 20 pounds.  Now, let's supose the head weight half that (10 pounds).... 10 pounds of gold = 500 gp!  bling bling!

Ancalagon


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## Lars Frehse

Bling, bling, indeed. And we decided that 18 pounds make the head. When you look at the picture in the player's handbook, a greataxe seems to be a huge metal head on a rather small wooden handle. So, the player lost a masterwork greataxe (which he won at the elder rod duels)and effectively gained 900 Gold Pieces.

The hardest thing in this session was playing that dwarf with a straight face. Especially the part in which he mentioned that the grey ones had probed him...


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Free your mind part 4 of 5*

Warken motioned them to sit down around a small campfire in the middle of the camp. The stars and the moons were shining down at them, and the Unseeing brought them fruit and vegetables which they served with cidre and fresh wine.

Once they had eaten, Warken cleared his throat:" Jan, I know you must be burning with curiosity. So, I will tell you how we met your mother and what we know about her.

"It was about twenty years ago, when we lived at the western fringes of the Kelder mountains between Lageni and Durrover. You see, we never stay long anywhere. After all, we have to fear both the divine races and what you call "titanspawn". The other slitheren broods mistreat and ridicule us like their creators did with Golthain, and the "Divine races" hunt us because we are what we are: Ratmen.

"So, we move through the lands, trying our best to stay aloof of the conflicts that rage all over Ghelspad.

"Twenty years ago, I was just patrolling the proximity of our camp, when I found a single human woman. Her fur was as red as yours is now, Jan, and it was clear that she was pregnant and sick. Ususally, we don't interfere with the dealings of other species, but I felt compassion, and so I decided to bring her back into our camp.

"There, we cured her of her diseases, and we helped her give birth. You were a healthy little lad".

The face of the ratmen, who had been cheerfully relating the story so far, darkened, and sadness creeped into his voice:"But your mother, she was wasting away. We used all of our druidical and arcane powers, but nothing seemed to help her. She couldn't have been much older then you are now, yet it seemed as if the time that was given to her in this world had ended, like it does for old beings, who have lived a long and fulfilled life... Though young, she died of old age."

"But how can that be, when she was young?", Jan interrupted.

"Well, I don't know how to tell you this. But one of the things we noticed when we examined her was that she was engulfed in an aura of magic."

"What does that mean?"

"It could mean many things. She could have come from another plane of existence, like the Heavens or from Hell... Or the reason could be completely different. One thing is clear, though: She was not a human being.".

Jan was stunned. At last he had found out more about his mother and now he found out that she turned out to be even be more mysterious then she had been before. After he had regained his calm, he ended the silence that had settled around the campfire:"I see. Please tell me more.".

"When you were old enough to be carried, we helped her cross the Kelder mountains so that she could get to a village of which we knew that there were people with a kind heart. We gave her this good luck charm that I had crafted and left her outside that village. Then, after we were sure that some villagers had taken care of her, we left again, never to see you again until this day.".

"What did she look like?".

"She looked like a beautiful human woman. Her long red hair fell down to her round buttocks and she was well shaped. Her skin had the color of milk and she had green eyes. But wait, I will create you a picture.".

Now, Warken cast a spell and then uttered a wish for a picture of the woman. He had just pronounced the last syllible, as a piece of parchment appeared in front of his. On it, there was a realistic picture of a beautiful, sensual redhaired woman.

Warken picked it up and handed it to Jan, who was silently admiring the image of his mother. After burning the image into his mind and when he was sure that he would never forget it, even if he lost the picture, he carefully rolled it up and put it into a scrollcase that Trepat handed him.

Jan said:"I think I have to thank you. Both for saving me and my mom back then and for being so kind now.".

Warken shook his head:" There is no reason to thank us. We only did what we had to do. There is one favor I would like to ask you and your friends in return though: When you are back in touch with your people, please don't mention neither us nor our camp.".

All of the adventurers agreed, and they all settled down to sleep peacefully in the emcampment of the Unseeing. On the next day, they said goodbye to their hosts and rode of to Mullis Town which they reached after a few uneventful days.

Mullis Town was a bustling Trading Town, on the route between Vesh and Mithril. It was a town where money got you everything and everyone, and apart from trade, there was money to be made in the mines and the archeological sites. For Torn, there was something even more interesting about Mullis Town though: It was here where his grandfather had stolen the legendary "Book of Death" some decades ago...


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Free your mind part 5 of 5*

They crossed the Hornswythe river by ferry and entered the town. After getting rooms in an inn and a good meal, Niklas set off to find a forge. After talking to some smiths, he found a workspace where he could craft a new axe for Torn, who had sold the gold from his old axe that had been transformed by the grey ones.

They settled down for the next two weeks, and Niklas and Jan worked hard in that time: Repairing their old arms and armor and forging new masterwork weapons. None of them had lost any of the skills their father had tought them back in the family's forge in Oreirover.

Meanwhile, Trepat and Ben soon left the teeming streets in order to look around in the surrounding lands, while Torn spent his time in the town. There, for the first time, he encountered full blooded Orcs.

He was surprised. Even though there were five full grown and armed orcs walking down the busy shopping street, nobody seemed to mind. The orcs, in turn, were joking with each other and went to a blacksmith's stand, where they carefully examined the weapons he had on display.

If he ever expected to meet any fullblooded orcs, he expected to do so in the plains, or, if in a city, in the middle of a pitched battle. But here they were, bartering and joking with a human merchant while the locals weren't giving them any more suspicious looks then they were giving him.

He took a closer look and saw that they all seemed to be wearing some sort of uniform with a badge that showed a fist that was crushing a stone.

Driven by curiosity, he walked up to them and said in the coarse orcish language his father had taught him:" Greetings! My name is Torn and since I am from lands far south of here, I am surprised to see orcs in a human town.".

A female orc, who seemed to be the leader of the small troupe answered:" You must come from far away indeed, little brother, that you have never heard of the Gravelfists. We are the proudest tribe here in the plains of Lede, and we have decided to cooperate with the humans when it suits us.".

"I have never heard of any arrangement like this one.".

"Of course not. But we are following the words of our prophet Gortak, who told us that the only future for our people lies in cooperation with the humans."

"And how do you deal with them?".

"We live on the plains and we have big herds of cattle and other animals. So, we have furs, meat, livestock and whatever we capture from the other tribes to trade for things we lack, like salt, iron, some weapons and other things like that.

"But, listen, I would like to chat on like that, but we gotta get going. We want to be back in our camp before the sun sets.".

"I see. Farewell.".

"Farewell.".

The orcs left, and now there was one thing left to do for Torn: He wanted to talk to Silian, the sage from whom his grandfather had stolen the book of death.

He asked around, and soon found out that Silian was a respected member of the community: An old wizard who spent most of his timei n the archeological dig site in the middle of the silt beds called "the morass" just outside the western edge of the town.

There in the middle od the gloomy and treacherous swamp, dozens of scholars with their workers were excavating the site, searching for artifacts of an ancient civilization that had once covered all of the plains of Lede.

Torn took a raft to get there, and after asking around, he was introduced to an old man who was both tall and thin, and who's eyes were burning with enthusiasm, making everyone he talked to forget that he was eighty years old. When he was approached by the half-orc, he turned away from the site where he had been directing several workers: "Good afternoon, young man, what can I do for you?"

"Good day. I wanted to ask you about some occurences that happened decades ago. Do you have a short moment?"

"Yes certainly."

"About four decades ago, a book was stolen from you, right?"

"Yes,", Silian looked around, and seeing that they were alone, he continued:" the Book Of Death. Why do you ask?"

"Well, because it was my granddad who had stolen it.".

Silian seemed to be genuinely amused by this information:"Is that so? Then you must be very proud of your granddad because he was an excellent thief then. Now, why are you telling me this?"

"Thanks for the praise. Unfortunately, my grandfather died before I was born, but he told my father something about what he did with that book, so I want to go looking for it, and after I found it, I would be willing to return it to you in exchange for your information.".

"Now that is quite an offer. But I have to decline, I am afraid, because I am not interested in that book anymore. It only brings trouble to it's owner. Still, I think your quest is worthwhile for a young man, so I will tell you what I know. How can I help you, after all those decades?"

"Thank you. What I know is that he stole it for an organization that was called the "Guild of the ancients", or something..."

Silian interrupted him:"That would be the "Cult of Ancients...". So, my suspicions were true..."

He motioned Torn to sit down next to him on the raft from which they were watching the digging workers, after making sure that they werer still alone and noone could hear them talking, he said:" When I was a young wizard, I was part of an organization called "The order of the ancients". We were an organization of gentlemen and -women who were interested in the civilizations that had existed before the divine war.

"Of course the civilization that intrigued us the most was the slarecian one: After all, it was so elusive and mysterious... As the time passed, we discovered secrets like that book, and there were some who weren't interested in sheer knowledge, but the application of that knowledge. Now, knowledge gained through the slarecians, meant knowledge about death, so you can guess where it lead to.

"Soon, we saw the folly of our research, and stopped it, but by now, there was the faction that had decided to use the knowledge: the cult. And they were no longer scholars and gentlemen, but assassins. From what I heard, the Cult that I encountered back then is now torn into two factions: Those who want to stay independent, and those who serve Belsameth... Yet, all call themselves "The order of the ancients", the name that we once used for our peaceful cause...

"Anyway, the book is useful for the cult, because with it, you can skip years of training in order to become a skilled assassin... Nowadays, the cult is everywhere in Ghelspad, like a disease that has spread in every part of a body. You would have to start your search where your grandfather brought the book. Do you know that."

"Yes, sir. He brought it to Mithril."

"Mithril! So they don't even fear the might of the golem", the old man exclaimed, shaking his head.

"Good luck, though. If you need help, you may want to turn to a former student of mine, who now lives in Mithril. He too was a member of the original order, but unfortunately, he wasted away his talent as a wizard in order to join the Fists of Mithril... His name is William."

Torn chuckled:"Actually, I know him. He was the teacher of a friend of mine!"

"Ah, and that friend of yours, is he a wizard?"

"No, a monk".

The old wizard now stomped his feet like a little boy would do:"Damn. All this waste of talent!".

Having learned what he wanted, Torn left Silian to his work and left the morass. Then, after Niklas and Jan were done with their forgework, they all left the town and rode on towards Mithril.

Mullis Town was connected to Mithril by the Codrada Corridor, a magnificent paved road that stretched uninterrupted between the two cities. It was wide enough to accomodate two horse drawn carriages in both directions and was named after the famous hero from Mithril who had originally conceived it.

For two days, they rode uninterrupted, as at the evening of the second day, they noticed a commotion in some nearby shrubs.

Immediately, they unsheathed their weapons as a dozen orcs charged towards them. They fought fiercely, and after a while, they gained the upper hand over the opponents who attacked them with huge axes and javelins. But just as they thought they had won, more orcs ran towards them from further down the road- apparently they had planned to wait until the adventurers were between the two groups, so that they could attack them from two sides.

Then, from the north, ten riders attacked the approaching orcs. Those riders, too, were orcs, but they were wearing some sort of uniform, and Torn recognized the symbol of the gravelfist tribe. Their leader rode a dire wolf and his followers were all on horseback, and they quickly slaughtered the remaining attackers.

Then, the leader rode up to the heroes while the wolf he rode on was curiously eyeing Ben's horserat. He adressed them with his soothing deep voice" My name is Donnangar. We are sorry that you were assaulted in our territory. As a compensation, we would like to invite you to spend the night in our camp."

Ben bowed:"We would be more then honored.".

And without further ado, they rode along with the gravelfist orcs towards their encampment.


----------



## Nightfall

I have to I burst out laughing reading about the dwarf getting probed!  That was great.

Best parts: Meeting the Unseeing and finding out the good ole Jan boy might NOT be as native as some might think!  

Plus more Slacerians, more Cult and definately more FUN!  Great stuff Lars! Definately great stuff!


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## KidCthulhu

Hee-hee.  Anal probing is just always funny.  Unless you're on the receiving end.

Er.  Um.  Not that I'd know.

Nice stuff, Lars.  Keep it up.  How was the Honeymoon?


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## Nightfall

Yeah Lars you rock!  I hope the honeymoon was very good for you, cause the story is definately picking up.


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## Lars Frehse

Thank you for your nice comments!  

I am glad you are enjoying it.

Anyway, the honeymoon was beautiful. Bulgaria is really worth a trip- there is a beautiful landscape, the black sea, a lot of sights and really good food and drink. Best of all, though, is that ever since we got married, my wife and me are feeling like we did when we fell in love with each other three years ago, so it is really a great time I am having now to.

Regarding the storyhour, the whole "free your mind" session took place before I flew into my honeymoon, so this week's updates will be about the first session after the honeymoon. It will be called "The plague" and I hope that I will get around to posting the first part tomorrow.

Anyway, thank you both (and all others who have written a comment before) for your encouragement. Those occasional comments really make this very enjoyable to me, because this way I know that not only my players and friends from Germany are reading this.


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## Nightfall

Yep Lars, there are OTHERS.  And I can't wait to see what Plague brings us. Not to mention if this ties in with finding out more of Jan's past.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*The plague- part 1*

The plague

They left the corridor and turned north into the hills.

For the next hours, they rode side by side with the Gravelfist orcs through the hills. Some of the orcs seemed to disapprove of members of the divine races coming to their encampment, but none of them spoke up against their leader. So, while their obedience to their charismatic leader kept their chaotic natures in check, some of them nonetheless shot hate-filled looks at them. However, when Jan checked their auras, he found that none of those orcs was genuinely evil.

Except for the "Clack-Clock" of their steeds hooves, it was a silent ride. Neither Donnangar nor his followers adressed the adventurers, and they, not knowing what to say, remained silent as well. As they rode on, the nameless orb rose, covering everything with it's pale light.

The monotony of the ride had made the friends drowsy, and they had started to wonder just how long they would have to ride on, as they saw the glow of a large fire and a collum of smoke behind the next hill. Immediately, the orcs dug their heels into their steeds and rode up the hill, with the heroes following close behind.

From their, they saw an orcish camp. There were dozens of tents which were encircled by a circular ditch on a hill some hundred yards away. Close to it, there were several animals, mostly horses and cattle, surrounded by large, wooden impromptu fences. Everywhere, there were Orcs, fighting back groups of attackers, while three of the tents were burning.

The attackers were six legged lions. Their bodies were bent in a way that the front portion was in an upright position, and they were wielding primitve spears, while they used their "middle" paws to claw at their opponents. They looked like feline centaurs, only that their upper body wasn't human, but still those of lions except for their front paws, which were formed like human hands.

The orcs at the camp seemed to have a hard time driving back the attackers, and Donnangar spit out their name:"Proud!".

 Just as they were about to ride to the camp in order to help the pressed orcs, they saw two additional groups charging through the plains. Donnangar and his men rode down to intercept the right group, and the heroes rode down the left side of the hill to intercept the other one.

As that group of proud ones saw, that the friends were blocking the way to the camp, they lowered their spears and charged the heroes.

Some of them hit during that initial attack, and as the adventurers  fought back, they soon saw that those "Proud" were indeed ferocious and formidable opponents. In melee, they got back on their hindlegs and towered over them, while they were thrusting their spears and slashing with their claws.

For minutes, they fought, and each time they managed to defeat one of their feline enemies, another one of the adventurers was wounded by a spear or a claw, until only Ben, Jan and two of the proud were left standing.

Fortunately, Ben had by now taken care of his wounded and unconcious friends, knowing that they were stable, and he was dodging the blows of one of the proud while Jan fought another one. Even though the Paladin was heavily armored, he too was by now bleeding from several small cuts and bruises, and as he saw as the other Proud tossed Ben through the air like an oversized toy, he knew that he was in dire distress.

Jan was now battling the two remaining proud. He hardly got to striking any blows himself, since he was busy keeping them in his front. He knew that once they would be flanking him, he would be doomed. But then, after he had been hit again, he wounded his opponent and suddenly, Donnangar was there.

The orc jumped down his dire wolf, drawing his falchion in one swift motion and with a speed and agility that was astounding for such a massive humanoid, he quickly cut the proud in half.

Now, with his back free, Jan struck down his remaining opponent and immediately afterwards he and Donnangar checked on his friends in order to tend to their wounds. As he used his divine powers, Jan was surprised to see that Donnangar too was wielding divine powers- the orc uttered short mantras and the wounds of the unconcious heroes closed.

When they had all regained their conciousness, Donnangar cleared his throat and spoke with his deep and harmonic voice:" You have gained my gratitude. The battle is over, and you have almost risked your lives, trying to defend our settlement. Gortak is right, indeed, there is nobility in some members of the divine races.

"Since you have risked your life fighting the enemies of orcs, you shall celebrate like orcs, as well. Come, and we shall drink beer from the skulls of our vanquished foes!"

As they rode down to the encampment, Ben asked the orcish chief about the Proud, and Donnangar explained, that the proud were a race that had once been created by Hrinruuk, the hunter. During the divine war, they had lost whatever culture and civilisation they used to own and were now savage humanoids who only lived for the battle. Worst of all, their favorite food were humanoid babies and children, while they didn't make much difference between Goblins, Orcs, Humans, Elves or any other species, as long as it was humanoid.

They went into the encampment, and now, the resentment of the orcs had disappeared. Considering their visitors to be brothers in arms, there was much backslapping and cheering and they were offered places of honor next to Donnangar.

They all sat down in a big circle around a bonfire that was lit for the occasion, and Donanngar adressed the orcs in their own tongue while Torn translated for his friends:" We have fought a great battle tonight. Tomorrow, we will burn and mourn our dead, but tonight, we will celebrate the living!".

And with that, he raised his cup, which was crafted from a Proud's skull and the actual party started. For hours, the night sounded with drunken orcish songs, and they sang and drank until the sun rose again. By then, all of the heroes had laid down to sleep and only Torn celebrated along until he fell into a drunken stupor.

On the next morning, Jan was the first to wake up. Now, he saw that there were several tents which were removed from the rest of the camp. As he walked past one, he saw an orcish druid opening the tent. In the tent, there were six orcs who were all covered by patches of green fungus.

He waited outside until the druid was back and asked him what was wrong with those inside. The druid seemed surprised that anyone could not know and he said:"It is the plague, of course.".

"What kind of plague? I have never heard of it?".

"Now, it seems that is is some kind of fungus that starts to grow on the skin and eventually enters the body through the orifices, where it grows in the intestines and the lungs, and so on, until the infected one dies. Unfortunately, we have only one druid who is powerful enough to cure this disease, but he can only do so once per day... Unfortunately the disease is killing faster then we can heal the infected ones..."

Jan nodded gravely and went back to the tent that had been given to him and his friends where he told them what he found out.

As they walked out together, they encountered Donnangar and asked him about the plague.

"Ah, I wanted to talk to you about that, myself. You see, for about a month or so, we had been suffering from the plague. Some of us are spared while some of us get ill and die... You can probably understand, that for a people of warriors like us, it is even more horrible to die like that, without honor...

"Anyway, the first who had been infected had been Orcs who had been in Mullis town before. Now, I wonder whether the cause of this disease lies in Mullis Town. We would like to investigate their, but no human trusts an orc...", said Donnangar and shrugged.

"It is highly unusual for me to ask you this, but our prophet Gortak says that the future of my people lies in cooperation with the likes of you, so I humbly ask you to go to Mullis Town for us and find out what causes this plague".

They didn't have to think long and after looking around and seeing that his friends agreed, Torn said:" We are more then willing to do this. We would like to look around a little more here, and then we will be off.".

Jan had another question:"What I don't understand is that you are such a friendly people. I don't want to insult you, but I have never expected to find orcs who are not only motivated by their own wild natures!"

"I do not consider your question insulting. It is true- we orcs are filled with the rage of our creator: Khadum. And he created us for a life of war and bloodshed. Yet, when the Paladins of Mithril created the Windspires, more then a hundred years ago, there was a time, when all of a sudden the weather here in the plains improved. 

"All of a sudden, the land blossomed, and many of us, among them my tribe, the Gravelfists, were able to settle down and live lives as farmers or artisans... Unfortunately, the Vengaurak and the Blood monsoon destroyed many of the spires and the weather got hostile again. Yet, for once we had tasted a life that was better then the one Khadum had planned for us... We have changed. And though we Gravelfists are now hated by many other tribes because of our relations with humans, most of believe that this is the way to go."

Donanngar paused shortly and then added, like an afterthough:" But of course we are still warriors, do never forget that."

They shook hands, and the heroes went back to the infected ones in order to learn more about the plague.

As they walked there, Ben said:" While we are still here, we should be careful not to touch the infected orcs or their clothing. I don't want to turn into a mushroom, and I am certain neither do you.".


----------



## Nightfall

Bloodtainted Mushrooms? Mmm nasty little plague. I hope the fellas can find the source of this plague. I'm betting Slitheren. This has the earmarks of the Diseased.


----------



## Lars Frehse

They talked to victims of the plague, and learned that even though half of those who got infected eventually were able to shake the disease, never to get infected again, the other half died. Some of the ill ones weren't willing to talk to the divine folks- Torn soon learned that there were many who thought that Khadum was punishing the Orcs because they weren't fullfilling his his will by fighting the humans and their allies.

There was one little girl who was covered by the fungus and mould and she was clinging to her rag doll. Regretting that he could not help more of the poor victims now, Jan summoned Corean's powers and cured her of the disease. Immediately, Krinkra, the little girl, was up and hugging Jan's armored legs. He raised her up, and after he had endured her happy kissing, she became very serious and held out her doll to the Paladin:" Thank you, good sir. I want you to have Vrraspa".

Jan accepted the doll, but as soon as they were out of her earsight, Ben told Jan that he should get rid of the doll, because he knew that it was best not to touch anything that had been touched by a diseased one, because the plague could spread this way. With a heavy heart, Jan wrapped the doll up and decided to dump it once they were out of camp while Ben retreated to his tent, where he secretely crafted a new rag doll for the little girl.

On the next morning, they rode to Mullis town. Once there, they headed for the local Tanil temple and after waiting until the current service had ended, they talked to the priest Andalus.

Andalus was a cheerful man, who's good cheer wasn't even dampened by the epidemy. He told the heroes, that apparently the disease only affected orcs and half-orcs, and so he hardly got into contact with it. Most worshippers who came to pray in his church were the well off and succesfull of Mullis Town, and since the Half Orcs of Mullis Town were usually simple workers at best, they weren't able to give an appropriate amount of money. There was one exception, a succesfull Half Orcish trader, but that one had been able to pay the onehundredfifty gold pieces once the fungus appeared on his skin.

"If you want to talk to the victims of the plague", Andalus explained:" You should go to Old Town. As the name says, it is the oldest part of Mullis Town, and that is where most of the Half Orcs live.".

Old Town was comprised of old wooden buildings and their age was showing. Most of the houses were merely still standing because they were leaning on the structure next to it, which, in turn, was leaning on the house next. On the ground levels of the houses, there were numerous inns, taverns and small shops and rooms and small appartments lay in the levels above.

The narrow streets were crowdes with humans and half-orcs and many of the latter had signs of the plague. Torn adressed one of the Half-Orcs with fungus in his face, and after some talk, they found out that Old Toby, one of the first ones who had gotten infected, was still alive.

They followed the instructions they were given, and after going through three backyards and climbing several creaking wooden stairways which were in bad repair, they reached the appartment. A half orcish woman opened the door and after explaining their cause, they let them into a small room with an even smaller window, in which six children, some of them obviously infected, were playing on the wooden floor.

The woman opened one of the two doors at other side of the room. In the room, laying on the bed, there was an orc who's entire skin was covered by fungus, like an old bread, that had been laying in a damp cellar for too long. Cautiously, they walked up to his bed, as the Half-Orc started to cough, green phlegm flying from his distorted mouth.

His voice was coarse and obviously he every word he uttered caused him pain:"What do you want?".

Torn stepped into Old Toby's vision:" We heard that you were among the first who had gotten infected. We want to find a way to end the disease, so we need to know whether you have met foreigners before you got infected or whether anything else that was unusual happened to you.".

Old Toby closed his eyes, and, just as the heroes started to wonder whether he was still concious, he spoke again:"I tell you what I know if you get me to the temple and pay for my cure there.".

None of the heroes disagreed, and after checking whether they had enough money between them, they made an impromptu stretcher out of a bedsheet, and then, after explaining to the grateful wife, that they were taking him to the temple, they carried him through the city.

At the temple, Andalus took the money and, with a short prayer, cured the dying Half-Orc. With the mould and fungus gone, the heroes now saw that Old Toby was in his forties and his dark leathery skin was stretching over strong muscles. After checking his body, and seeing that he was fully cured, he said: "Thank you. Now that I am healthy, maybe there is a chance I can get a cure for my children... But I promised to tell you my story, so listen up:

"Five weeks ago, or so, I was still a miner in the mines south of here. The ones that are owned by house Asuras. Anyway, one day, me and two mates were digging a shaft into the rock, as we broke through into a large cavern!

"The cavern was damp, and there were mushrooms everywhere in there. Ain't never seen anything like that, and I have been a miner since I was a little boy! Anyway, the next day, Woktok, one of my mates, got ill. Soon, the other lad and me got sick too.

"So, we were thinking: "Hey, the mushrooms made us sick!". And Woktok said:" Let the Asuras pay for it, it's their fault! ". And I say: "No, don't mess with them", and he said: "Well, I will go and ask".

"So he went, and the next day he disappeared, so I just though:"Toby, better if you are silent.". And that is my story.".

"Do you think that your employers have killed your friend?", asked Trepat.

"I don't know. But you never know, do you? Being careful can't hurt, though.", answered Tobi.

Torn asked:" But do you think that this House Asuras would be the kind of people who would do that? And if so, why? After all, hardly anybody cares about Half-Orcs like us...".

Toby shrugged:" I am just a plain worker. I don't know stuff like that. But there is a friend of mine called "Sorketch", who knows a lot of things about those in power... He walks a shady path, if you know what I mean. I tell you what. Come to the "Bellybasher" pub later tonight. I will tell him to expect you and he will be in the backroom there.".

They waved Toby goodbye who went back to his family, and after renting rooms for the night and eating, they went to the pub.

The "Bellybasher" was a crowded small pub where dozens of humans and half-orcs were drinking beer from greasy kegs. In the backroom,  Sorketch was waiting for them. He was a muscular halforc who's bare arms were criss-crossed with scars. He stared at them evenly for a moment and then gestured them to sit down:" Old Toby has told me what you have done for him. He owes you a favor which means I owe you a favor, since his friends are my friends.".

They took a seat and Niklas said:" We would be interested to know what you know about the House Asuras and their local operations." .


----------



## Nightfall

Bloodtainted mushrooms!  Or else it morgaunts! Ugh! I hate those things!


----------



## Lars Frehse

*The plague- part 3 of 4*

Sorketch leaned back in his chair:“ You never heard of the house Asuras? Hmmm, maybe you people think that it is kings and bishops who hold all the power. If that is what you think, you are wrong.

“ House Asuras is a trading company. It dabbles in anything that makes money, legal if necessary, illegal if possible. It owns trading houses, mines, caravans and many other things in every major town in Ghelspad, and in a lot of the smaller ones as well. I bet they are making more money in a year then Calastia can press from it’s hegemony in two.

“They were already powerful before the divine war, but back then, they really prospered: They dealt with both sides, and since neither side wanted to lose their supplies and the House is rich enough to pay enough officials, they never got into problems. And they are getting richer still ever since- selling slaves and black market goods when that makes a bigger profit then an honest deal…”

The Half-Orc shook his head:”And people are calling me a thief!”

He chuckled shortly and then continued:”Anyway, on the top of that house, there is one Telos Asuras. He is older then a hundred years, and they say that he is bribing Belsameth each day, so that she doesn’t take him with her.

“As far as I know, that man has more than twohundred children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. And the local descendant of him is one Viando Asuras. He is a young lad who is more interested in drinking and gambling then in business. Word is, that he used to have a position in Mithril, but since the family was not content with him, they sent him here to take care of the mine as a sort of a “punishment”.

“You see, for a man of his family, overseeing a mine here, far from the shining centers of Ghelspad, is a rather low job. I was told he is supposed to learn humility here. Still, I saw him in some gambling dens and drinking halls many times before. Looks like this lesson isn’t working…”

Ben got up:”I see. Thank you. Do you think we could talk to him?”

“Sure. You got a Paladin with you. You see, some decades ago, the Paladins kicked the House Asuras out of Mithril, after they broke their laws, or something. You see, bribing a Paladin is a hard task. They are back, but ever since they try to do their best to please any Paladin they meet.”

They thanked Sorketch, and went to the local mansion of the house Asuras. A butler opened, and it was like the half-orc had said: Once they mentioned that they wanted to talk to Viando, the butler invited them to come to dine with his master that evening.

Except for Ben, they all bought new clothes, and in the evening, they returned to the mansion. The butler opened again and lead them through the lower parts of the mansion, which were obviously used as offices and workspaces, since there were still clerks walking around. In one of the rooms they passed, they saw documents and other material stashed up against the wall and a secretary, who was sitting at a desk in the middle of the room, looked up as they passed.

In the other upper part of the house, thick carpets were swallowing the busy noise from below, and it was pleasantly silent there. Viando awaited them in a luxurious dining room. He was a handsome young man with bloodshot eyes who’s excessive lifestyle was showing. Already, his muscles seemed to be turning to fat, but he smiled nicely as he was waiting for his visitors to sit down, and after the general introduction he told them to “dig in” and started entertaining his guests with jokes and anecdotes while they were eating.

The meal was fantastic. They had fowl and vegetables which they washed down with imported dry red wine. Each time they had emptied their cups, a servant would appear and refill it. Once they had noticed that, most of the friends decided to merely drink little, and only Ben drank along with Viando who emptied a cup in each of his breaks of his small talk, which was a lot.

For the little halfling, for whom every halfling fairy tale there was had come true, however, the wine soon had an emboldening effect and he introduced his cunning plan to Viando:” You see, we came because of the orc disease, and we would like to propose a deal.”.

“Oh, tell me about it!”.

“You know about the orcish disease, don’t you? We have done some research and we found out that it originated in that mine of yours. It looks like the mushrooms your miners found caused it!”

Now Viando seemed genuinely surprised and he put his cup of wine back to the table:” Are you serious? I had never considered a connection between those two events… We had burnt all the mushrooms after discovering the cave, and then I forgot about it… You are certain about that?”.

Niklas nodded:”Yes, sir, we are certain. And we also think that soon everyone will know and…”.

Ben interrupted him:”Yes! That is where we come in! You see, we will investigate this disease, and ultimately, we will find a cure. Now, if you finance our efforts now, you will be able to claim the cure of the plague for yourself and gain the prestige!”

“Hmmmm”, Viando said, drinking another mouthfull from his cup:” I don’t know… Let me think about it, and I will tell you about my decision tomorrow. Why don’t you come to the happy ram in the evening, since I will be meeting some, errr,  business friends there anyway!”.

As they were about to get up, Jan added:” But of course the money is not necessary. Working in your name would be enough”.

As Ben furiously kicked Jan under the table, Viando added that he would consider this offer, and they got out.

Outside, the druid was raging: “Listen, bigman, you may roll in money, but I blew all I got on the last healing wand we got and that shiny metal armor you are running around in. We should at least get compensation!”

Jan shook his head:”But it is not his fault that the miners found those mushrooms.”

“But he could at least have paid for a cure for his workers.”

“Why should he? There is no law that would obligate him to.”

Now Ben was getting even more furious: “Well, maybe there is no law, but if he had cured his first workers, the plague wouldn’t have spread in the first place. The wine we were drinking was probably more expensive then a cure at the temple. The thug, Sorketch, had told us that the house is rich! And what about that friend of Old Toby, who had disappeared?”

“There is no proof that Viando has anything to do with it. To me, the man looked genuinely surprised you know…”

“Proof, shmoof”, Ben muttered as they arrived at their hotel.

On the next evening, they went to talk to Viando. The happy ram was a gambling den, and he was playing cards as they arrived. With short words, he explained to them that he wasn’t interested in their investigation, since he saw no profit for him in it, and after some heated debate he told them that they had his permission to examine the cave in his mines, but that they shouldn’t spread their unproven theory about a connection between his operations and the disease.

It was already dark outside as they walked out of Mullis Town to examine the mine. The armored guards let them pass, and when they reached the cave, they saw that it’s floor was indeed covered with ashes.

Already, there were new shafts driven into the far end of the cave, and after looking around, Ben found a mushroom in the ashes. Immediately, his mystic druidic senses told him everything there was to know about it.

He called for his friends:” This is the Groster Mushroom. It is supposed to be extinct, but here it is! It used to cause a plague among Orcs before the divine war, supposedly Chern had a conflict with Khadum at the time…

“Anyway, the plague was quite deadly, but I think that the Orcs had found an antidote back then…”

“And do you know the antidote?”, Niklas asked.

”Sorry, no. If I would hold it in my hand, I would recognize it, but I don’t know it now…”.

Back at the hotel, Char-Kassa was waiting for them. She was one of Donnangar’s lieutenants and she was agitated:” Have you found out about the cause of the disease?”

They answered like one man:”Yes.”.

“Good. Gortak is in our camp, and he said that he knows that you know the cause by now. There is a meeting right now, and Gortak wants you there!”.


----------



## Nightfall

Sounds like things are getting tense there. Figures Chern would have SOME root in this trouble.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*The plague- part 4 of 4*

After waking a sleepy stable boy, the friends got their steeds and rode with Char-Kassa to the encampment. When they reached it, they were surprised to see that the Gravelfists had moved closer to Mullis Town- they were now a mere three hours ride away from it.

Even though it was in the middle of the night, as they rode into the encampment, it seemed that all the orcs were awake: There was a huge bonfire in the middle, and every member of the Gravelfist clan, be it man, woman, child, infected or healthy were surrounding the fire.

There was quite a commotion- the Orcs were heatedly debating with each other, and Torn was able to hear that some of  them were arguing in favor of attacking Mullis Town, which they identified as the source of their misery. Char-Kassa lead the heroes through the throng, and a silent corridor opened up for them in which all of the orcs were staring at the friends. Some of the stares were filled with hope, but others showed open hatred.

Suddenly, they were in the middle of the camp, next to the bonfire, and in front of them were Donnangar and a blind, white haired albino Orc. Donnangar was nodding shortly, and then he glanced around at his enraged followers, staring those down who were the loudest. And with each pair of eyes he caught, he succeeded in staring another Orc into submission.

The Albino Orc smiled warmly at the group and said with a pleasant and friendly voice:” Welcome! My name is Gortak, and at last I can meet you face to face. You see, often I have seen you in my visions and my dreams. May I touch your faces?”

A bit surprised, they agreed, and the blind prophet walked up and tenderly explored the forms of their faces with his fingertips, thus “seeing” them for the first time. When he was done, he said:” I suppose you know the cause of the disease now.”

“Yes. It is caused by a mushroom called “Groster”.”, Ben answered.

Gortak nodded his head repeatedly and said:” Yes, yes, this makes sense, of course…”.

“Now”, he said, and all of a sudden his gentle and kind voice was strong enough to silence the crowd surrounding them, and it carried his words far into the night:” I know what we have to do.

“In order to cure our people, and save Orcs and Half-Orcs everywhere, we shall not fight against the divine people. Instead, it will be Orcs and Divine folks together who will bring salvation! I know where the cure can be found, and the best one of us will go there.

“Donnangar, are you ready to go on this quest?”

The massive orc humbly bowed, showing his servitude, and Gortak turned to adress the group of heroes:” And you: Torn, Trepat, Ben, Jan and Niklas, are you ready to go on this quest as well?”

All of them answered with yes, and Gortak now dismissed the crowd to return to the tents, and each of the orcs, who were usually so unruly, did as they were told by their prophet, content for the moment.

When they were alone, Gortak explained to Donanngar and the heroes what they had to do: They would have to travel to Thalien, the easternmost island of the Toe Islands in the Blood sea. There, in the ruins of  Hor’kung, a former Orcish city, they would find the cure, which they would recognize once they would see it.

First, though, they would have to get a map or an exact description, since the exact location of that city was long forgotten and the island the biggest one of that group of islands. Donnangar would come along, while Gortak would stay with the Gravelfists in order to prevent them from randomly seeking “revenge” by raiding human settlements.

Before they all went to sleep, the heroes decided to return to Mullis Town in the morning, though. There, they wanted to get at least some money from the House Asuras, or a city official to finance their voyage- after all, they were effectively preventing an Orc Attack on the city, so it would be only fair if someone there would help them in turn...


----------



## Nightfall

Well that was a narrow shave. Fortunately I think Gortak might be the only one capable of keeping the peace. Gods help Mullis Town if he fails.


----------



## Ancalagon

Very good Lars.

You know, most seting have an "in the old days of yore, some great catastrophy /war happened that changed the world"... and then it either ends there, or said bad thing returns and the heroes must fight it.  Either way, the world has settled down.

The fact that this seting is only a bit more than a hundred years or so after the big catastrophy makes it a lot more interesting... in a way, the disaster is still going on.

Ancalagon


----------



## Lars Frehse

Nightfall, Yes, it is a close shave. Especially when the other, less peaceful Orc tribes find out.

Ancalagon, this is one of the things I like about the Scarred Lands, as well. It is a world that is changing and the ultimate victory of the divine races isn't completely secured, yet. Also, there are many ambitious factions who are changing the face of the world. It is a much more dynamic setting than most settings out there.
Within this campaign, I ultimately hope to involve the characters in epic events, and since the world is so "young" this is still possible.
One of the things I never liked about the Forgotten Realms was that it is so static that it is almost impossible to make a permanent mark as a player character there. Ghelspad, however is so young, that the "clay" is soft enough for the PCs to make a mark that will be remembered.

Right now, I am enjoying this campaign very much. It could become my favorite one of all the ones I have done, but only time will tell that.

Anyway, thanks for your comment (and of course thank you for your comments to Nightfall, too). Later tonight, I will post the first part of the next chapter: "Strange Bedfellows".


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Chapter 11- Strange Bedfellows- Part1*

They were riding back to the camp through a wooded part of the corridor, as a human male in scalemail stepped onto the road, and since he was blocking the way, the four heroes reigned back their horses.

He was holding a waraxe and a shield and his voice was booming from under his helmet:" Tell me what you have told King Jaren, and maybe I will let you live.". 

Trepat thought back to the events of the day. After a short sleep, all of the heroes, except for Jan, who had stayed in order to help the sick orcs, had gone into Mullis Town. There, they had reconsidered and instead of visiting Viando Asuras again, they decided to go directly to the ruler of the city: King Jaren. They knew that he was the one who had granted citizenship to the half-orcs living there, giving them more priviliges than their kind was enjoying in most of the rest of Ghelspad.

Ben answered:" And why should we answer one single man?"

King Jaren had indeed been helpful. He was a merchant who had bought the title at an auction once the old "king" had died,  and even though he, like all of those who followed his profession, was mostly driven by greed, he seemed to be genuinely concerned about his "kingdom" and his subjects. After they had told him what they had found out, and what they were planning to do, he decided to hire more mercenaries in case that the Orcs would indeed attack the settlement.

"Well", the fighter said:"All I can tell you is that you should tell me know. Else, I will make sure everyone but one of you will die, and then I will ask the last survivor, before I will slowly kill him."

Now, all four of them were wondering what the man had up his sleeve. It didn't look like he was bluffing. Trepat thought back to how King Jaren had decided to talk to House Asuras directly, since it would have been their duty to inform him when the epidemy started. Then, Jaren had even given them some gold, after the priest Andalus had used his divine powers to make sure that they were speaking the truth.

And now, as they were riding back to the Orcish encampment, where they wanted to pick up Jan and Donanngar, this man had stepped into their way. After their short exchange, they stared silently at each other for a while and nothing happened. Seeing no point in waiting any longer, Torn grabbed the Spiked Chain which he had taken from the Char Fiend months ago- months of training had let him master the exoctic weapon.

The moment the fighter saw Torn moving, he slammed his axe against his shield and all of a sudden all hell broke lose. From the surrounding bushes, two crossbowbolts and a slingbullet shot at the heroes, severly wounding Niklas and Trepat, a magic missile hit Torn and another Spellcaster cast a sleep spell at Ben, who fell asleep but immediately woke up again as he fell of his rat. As Ben opened his eyes again, a druid of Chern stepped out of the underbrush, and he was grinning madly at the halfling as he waved his scimitar that was made entirely of flame.

In the underbrush of both sides of the road, they were now able to identify their attackers. There was a human and an elvish spellcaster, a halfling with a sling and a shortsword and a human and a half-elf with a crossbow in additon to the two humans who had now stepped on the road.

A fierce battle ensued, and it soon turned out that the attackers had relied on the force of their initial surprise attack and they weren't able to hold their ground in the fight man against man while the spellcasters had soon used up their spells. None of them was able to overcome Torn,, who was raging with the Khadum's fire in his veins as he dominated the field with the superior range of his chain.

As the battle turned, Ben saw that one of the Half Elves, who had been called Ronczyk by one of the ambushers, was a member of the Asuras household. He was the one whom they had seen through an open door when they had been invited for dinner . This Halfelf now raised his hands as he saw that except for the two spellcasters, who were out of spells and clumsily using their crossbows now, he was alone.

The two spellcasters tried to run away, but Ben, who was by now wielding a Flame Blade, and Torn each killed one. Seeing, that he wasn't watched at the moment, Ronczyk grasped his last chance of escape and he jumped onto the back of Niklas's horse. The monk and Trepat were both too heavily wounded to act at the time but Ben, who was closer, stepped to the horse before the man could ride off, and gently whispered into the steeds ear.

Ronczyk tried to spur the horse on, but it didn't react and as he saw that Torn was coming back as well, he dismounted.

He was now sweating profusely and trembling as well:" Please, noble sirs, if you spare me, I will make sure that you will not regret it!".

Torn, who was still raging bellowed:" Better give me a reason not to kill you right now!"

The man was now totally intimidated and begged on his knees:" I can get you money and valuables if you let me live. Please, give me a chance to buy my life!"

Ben stepped between Ronczyk and his raging friend:" Well, first you should tell us everything. We know you work for House Asuras. Did Viando send you?"

"No, Viando is an idiot. You see, the reason I tried to have you killed, and the reason I had this one half-orc killed was that I didn't want the House to become too interested in our business here in Mullis Town.

"I am basically the one who runs the mine, and Viando spends his time drinking and gambling. So, while I was running the thing, I was also grabbing what I could get- this is much easier than the thieving I used to do. Anyway, when the trouble started, I wanted to make sure that the House doesn't send any representatives here, since even a casual glance would show that I was directing their money into my pocket.

"Now, if you let me live, I gotta get out of here as fast as possible. You can come with me to the Asuras mansion, and I will give you all the valuables I can grab.".

Torn, who's rage had ended by now, nodded slowly:" Yes, but if you will try to cheat us, you will be dead.".

And so they all rode back to Mullis Town, while the heroes thanked the gods that Jan, who would have never agreed with such a deal , was still back in the camp. When they reached the mansion, the grateful thief handed them a bag that was bigger on the inside than on the outside with fourhundred goldpieces in it and then he rode out of town.

They arrived back at the camp in the afternoon, and not wanting to lose any time, they picked up Donnangar and Jan and rode to Mithril.


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## Nightfall

Figure Viando could tell a gold piece from the part of his butt.  Very nicely done Lars!  I like that ambush!


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## Lars Frehse

*Strange Bedfellows- part 2*

As soon as they were back on the Corrada Corridor, they picked up speed. Occasionally, they overtook caravans, but even though Donnangar usually hid his head with the hood of his coat, their horserat and the dire wolf attracted more than enough attention.

Then, one night, they camped together with a heavily guarded caravan. As the night dragged on, and some of the guards got bolder, their captain challenged Donnangar to a fist-fight. The Orc was reluctant at first, but when the human started throwing insults at him, he shrugged and accepted the challenge.

The two opponents unstrapped their weapons and got out of their armor and after the merchants and guards had formed a circle around them, the captain of the guard started to throw punches at Donnangar. He was a massive man, and almost as burly as the orc, but as he was swinging wildly at his opponent, Donnangar dodged each and every blow. He didn’t even raise his arms- his fists were dangling on his sides as he was moving with the grace of a cat and nimbly shuffling his feet.

The human got more and more furious as Donnangar was outwitting him with a sly smile. But then the warchief seemed to get tired of the fight, because now he was shooting his hammerheadsized fists at the human. After a quick combination, which made the captain’s head fly around like a piece of wood in a storm, Donnangar hit him in the stomach. The human doubled over and broke down, breathless and unconcious for now.

The fight was over, but Torn saw one of the guards to his right pulling a knife from under his coat. Donnangar was facing away from them at the moment, and the mercenary moved forward in order to attack him from behind, but Torn grabbed the man and shoved him back.

For a few moments, they were staring at each other, but then the human backed off- apparently he didn’t have the guts to attack Torn. He put his knife back under his coat and sneered in broken Ledean:” Yeah, youse Orcs always shtick together…”.

Torn grinned and nodded: “You know, that is actually correct.”

As Torn turned to gratulate Donnangar, Niklas adressed the guard: “Hey, you know that my pal just saved a life, don’t you?”

The guard spat and looked up to the monk:” Yeah, saved the filthy orc’s hide, he did.”.

“No, actually, I meant he saved your life. You saw that orc fighting? You don’t think you would have had a chance, do you? Not even with a knife…”

Some of the other guards were now grinning openly, and he only said:” Whatever”, as he left the campfire and disappeared into the night.

For days, they rode on, and now the nights were getting colder, signalling the end of summer and the coming of autumm. As they were getting closer to Mithril, the number of patrols they encountered grew from day to day. Some of the Vigilantes and Paladins they met knew Donanngar, but even those who didn’t recognize him used Corean’s gift of detecting evil and they looked into his heart. Since they saw no evil in him, they all let him pass.

Eventually, they reached Mithril. They approached the single massive gate to the city, and even from there, they saw the gigantic form of the namegiving Golem. Dwarving even the biggest structures of the metropolis, the Mithril Golem stood upright in it’s eternal guard. It had been crafted by Corean himself, and after the construct had helped imprisoning Khadum at the bottom of the ocean, it had walked back to the shore where it was standing ever since. Later, the worshippers of Corean had built a city around it, which had attracted thousands and thousands over the time.

After they had passed the Paladins at the gate, which had made certain that they were truly the masters of the direwolf and the horserat, they found an inn that accepted their steeds. Once inside, they went to the large complex that was built around the Mithril Golem: Corean’s temple. There, they went to the small monasterie of the “Fists of Mithril”.

They were greeted warmly by Brother Juverus, an old monk who happily greeted Niklas and his friends and handed them their reward after they delivered the books which Brother William had given them back in Durrover.

Ben and Niklas stayed in order to look for maps or travel logs of Thalien, hoping to find out where “Hor’ Kung”, the ancient Orc city was located. Meanwhile, Torn and Trepat headed down to the harbor.

Mithril was divided into two parts: Temple City and Harbor City. In Temple City, beautiful multistory houses made of marble were there rule. Here, under the shadow of the golem, the priests and paladins of Corean were living along with the rulers of the city, who usually came from their ranks. Harbor City was a lawless sprawl. Here, the poor and destitute were living, as well as the middle class and the succesfull merchants. The houses were mostly made of wood, and small alleys and sidestreets were crisscrossing the district.

As they reached the harbor, Torn saw the Blood Sea for the first time: The whole ocean had the color of Khadum’s blood, and they weren’t quite certain whether the salt they were smelling was simply the mundane salt of the ocean or if it was the salt of the titan’s blood…

Clouds were darkening the sky now, and rain was falling down as the wind picked up and was blowing landwards.

They walked from ship to ship, asking whether they could charter it for a trip to Thalien. Most captains told them off right away: There were pirates lairing in the toe islands and the waters between Mithril and Thailen were dominated by Pisceans, evil fish-creatures who had been transformed by Khadum’s blood. And even those who were ready to take the risk waved off when they found out that one of the passengers would be an orc.

As they were about to give up hope, Trepat and Torn approached a middlesized sloop which was being trimmed by what appeared to be a crew that consisted solely of forsaken elves. The most striking feature of the ship was a figurehead, which was carved in the shape of a willowy, pale-skinned, sad eyed elf woman.

Both stood in the rain and looked at the ship and it’s busy crew, as an Elf who was dressed in elaborate and expensive velvet and silken clothes approached them:” A beauty, isn’t she?”.

Torn didn’t know whether he meant the ship or the figurehead, he nodded in agreement: “Actually, we are looking for a ship. Do you know the captain?”.

The Elf smiled warmly:” Of course I know him! My name is Ith’laen Khemaitas, and the Ghost maid, which is the name of the vessel you are looking at right now, is my ship.”


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## Ruined

Yayy, the group's in Mithril now. Looks very cool, Lars. I especially liked the campsite scene with Donnager and the guards. Good stuff.

I'm eager for more SL!


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## Lars Frehse

Thank you. From now on, Mithril will most likely become the player's homebase. Unless they do something completely unexpected, of course. (But then again, sometimes my group DOES act rather unexpected.).


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## Lars Frehse

*Strange Bedfellows-- part 3 of 4*

Khemaitas bowed foppishly while the rain and the wind got even worse, and as Torn was about to introduce himself, he straightened up again, and pointed to the deck:” Let us go into my cabin. We can properly get to know each other there. I am afraid that my hair is already in disarray and my clothing is not made for the water.”.

They went on board and into the captain’s cabin. It was a small and comfortable place with a small ebon table with maps on top and chairs that were cushioned with red velvet. A small oven was radiating heat so that they could get out of the heavy coats that had been protecting them against the cold of the evening.

After they had closed the door behind them, Kemaitas got a bottle of wine and three glasses out of a small cabinet and as he used one hand to absentmindedly dry his long blond hair with a towel, he put the three glasses and the bottle down with his other hand.

He rolled up his maps and put them into a drawer and then, he leaned back in his chair and threw his feets on the table. He called for one of his crewmen to fill up the glasses, and when they were alone and everyone was holding a full glass of red wine in his hand, he said:” Now, please tell me good gentlemen, how can I be of service to you?”

“Captain, this here”, Torn said, pointing at his friend:” is Trepat and my name is Torn. We are on an important mission, and it could take a while to tell you what it is all about.”.

“I have time to listen to you. My men are overhauling the Ghost Maid now, and it will take at least four days until she is ready to sail again. Until then, you have my ear.”

Torn told him about the epidemy and Trepat added something when he thought his friend had forgotten something important. They talked for an hour and Khemaitas listened intently, rarely asking clarifying questions.

When they were done, the forsaken elf nodded slowly:” So, unless you get to Thalien with this orc, more and more of the orcs will get killed by the epidemie…”

It was a rhetoric question, but Torn said:”Yes” nonetheless.

“The balance is in danger”, Khemaitas said and his voice was barely audible:” There are too few orcs already…”.

Then his voice got louder again:” Sure, I will take you for onehundred goldpieces each. Each passenger may take one “steed” along for free.”.

Torn and Trepat were delighted. And since the elf was already offering the passage for much less than it was worth, they agreed right away. When they told him that they would still have to search the archives, Khemaitas told them that they shouldn’t have to worry- his crew would actually be glad if the search would take a little longer, since they hadn’t had a decent shoreleave in a while.


For the next days, Ben and Niklas searched through the archives, but it seemed that the library of the Brothers was built in order to keep knowledge within it’s walls instead of passing it on. They searched and searched, but everytime they found a book that looked promising, it never contained anything about Thalien or the ancient orcish culture that used to live there.

After they had spent almost a week looking for a clue, brother Juverus had pity with them and said:”You know, there is a layman we always go to when we see that our library is keeping it’s secrets from us. He is a bit strange, but he has a lot of tomes with rare knowledge and often before he procured books of which we thought that they would have been lost forever.”

Niklas and Ben were both interested:” Who is he?”

“His name is Chel Azatam and he owns a bookstore down in Gull Street in Harbor City. The store is called “Rare Books”.”

The two friends were happy for an excuse to leave the dusty library for a while and went downtown. There, they soon found the bookstore and after Ben decided to take a walk, Niklas entered alone. Each of the walls were boasting shelves which were filled to overflowing. Everywhere, there were piles of books: on tables, on chairs, on the floor and even on the stairs that was leading up to a single bedroom.

In the middle of this chaotic mass of books, Niklas was greeted by a thin Calastian expatriate: “Welcome, welcome! My name is Chel Azatam! How may I help you?”

“Greetings. My name is Niklas and I am a member of the Fists of Mitril. I am searching for a map of Thalien with the Orcish ruincity on it.”.

“Ah, Hor’ Kung you mean… Yes. Yes… Yes, I do have such a book. After Mithril was founded, missionaries went out to the toes, and one of them made a map of Thalien on which he marked Hor’ Kung!”

Niklas was surprised: They had searched for a week, and it took this man less than a minute to get the needed information. Chel pulled out the book from under one of the piles, to him, there was a perfect order in the chaotic pile of books, and Niklas asked:” How much?”

Chel pushed the book against his chest, and his voice became protective:”You know, actually, I wouldn’t want to part with this one here.”

Niklas was surprised: “But I thought that this was a bookshop? Why wouldn’t you want to sell a book?”


“Yes, yes, you are right. But, well, take a look around… Everytime I buy a book, I say to myself:” Chel Azatam, you will sell this one”. But then the books grow on me and I don’t sell them… Sometimes I sell them, of course, but I buy more often than I sell… 

“That is why this store looks like that. Fortunately my cats are all out right now. Else it could get really crowded. But, hey, I can make a copy of the map inside it.”

Niklas agreed, and before Chel started to draw a copy of the map, he served tea and cookies to his cutomers. As Niklas drank tea, the bookshop owner told him that for a while, after the foundation of Mithril, Thalien had been where Mithril had gotten it’s marble. But then, the bloodstorm, the pisceans and the pirates made the operation of a quarry unpracticable.

After he had the map, that showed the ruins of Hor’ Kung between a forest and a magroves swamp, he asked Chel whether he had any books about meditation and combat techniques, he was shown a book that had been written by an Exemplar.

Exemplar’s were the chosen ones of Hedrada. Like the fists of Mithril, they were striving for perfection of their body and mind, and to help them, Hedrada has even granted them the gift of reincarnation: Everytime an Exemplar was reborn, he immediately knew of his old self, so that he could go on perfecting himself.

This book now described techniques he had never heard off before. Leafing through the pages about meditation and discipline, Niklas saw that there were many things in there that he could use in the future. He bought the book and the next time he met his friends, he showed them the map.

Now, they were ready, and a few days later, their journey on the “Ghost Maid” began. As they left the harbor, the wind blew up the sails, and they left the harbor and sailed out to the red ocean.


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## Lars Frehse

*Chapter 11: Strange Bedfellows- part 4 of 4*

Once they were out on the open sea, they picked up speed. Each of the crewmen and -women were able to fulfill their tasks without much talk. They were efficient enough to make it look like they had worked together on this ship for over a century- and since they were forsaken elves, this wasn't even that unlikely at all.

For the heroes, the time on the ship was pleasantly boring. All there was to see for the first days was the endless red ocean and the only thing they had to take care of was to not stand in the way. Meanwhile, Captain Khemaitas was mercurial like the sea- one moment he would be friendly and likeable just to turn cold and and distant the next moment.

During the first night on sea, Trepat left his cabin in order to pass water overboard. As he reached deck, he noticed something peculiar: Captain Khemaitas seemed to be talking to someone who was just below and beyond the front of the ship. Then, Trepat saw that the captain was actually talking to the vessel's figurehead, the Ghost Maid herself and that she was talking as well. Her sad and elegant face was turned to face the captain, and she seemed to be chatting amiably.

The noise of the water and the creaking of the masts was louder than their talking, and the moment they noticed Trepat's presence, the figurehead reverted to it's original, lifeless form. Khemaitas turned casually around, and, acting as if nothing had happened he said:" Beautiful night, ain't it?"

Trepat, who decided to play along, nodded:" Sure. After the stench of Mithril, the air is especially nice.".

"Yes, of course. I can't stand that place for too long, either. There is nothing that beats living on the sea... You are lucky, though. There are usually fierce storms raging over the bloodsea in the autumm... But if you do whatever you have to do on Thalien swiftly enough, we might make it back to Mithril before the storms.".

They watched the sea together for a while, and then, Trepat returned to his cabin.

On the next day, the weather remained calm and they were swiftly cutting through the waves. Donanngar and Khemaitas where standin right where Trepat had seen the elvish captain in the night before and they were deep in conversation.

All of the heroes were on deck, enjoying the sun, as all of a sudden they noticed several huge fins cutting through the water alongside their ship. They could hardly see the shapes of the creatures under the backfins, but each of them seemed to be about eight feet long.

Apparently, the crewmen had noticed the fins as well. They all armed themselves with composite longbows- it was obvious that they were expecting trouble. Warily, the heroes pulled out their ranged weapons as well, as all of a sudden the wind stopped blowing. With the sails hanging limp, the boat soon lost all speed until it was lazily rocking on the sea.

The creatures in the water slowed down alongside the ship, and after they had stopped, they emerged with their upper bodies out of the water. They were green colored fish-like creatures who's red eyes were burning with the fire of a cold and cruel intellect. In their arms, they were holding large harpoon-like spears which they were holding up in their hands, ready to throw. Here they were, the creatures that they had heard so many gruesome tales about back in Mithril: Pisceans.

Among them, in front of the ship, there was a black scaled  Piscean, who was two feet taller than the rest and who seemed to be their leaders. Half of his body was above the water as he shouted:" Give us your gold or we will take your ship and your lives.".

Khemaitas started to answer, but before he could utter the first word, Donnangar was already holding his composite bow in his hands. He shot rapidly at the black scaled piscean, and each time one of the arrows was let loose, he was already cocking the next one. Soon, the Orc had spiked his enemy with arrows and a general battle ensued.

The Piscean's tactic was simple: They used their harpoons to pull their victims into the ocean, where they could easily drown them. Meanwhile, everyone on board was shooting back, occasionaly helping their neighbors when they got hit by a harpoon. Two of the crewmen were wizards, and they shot lightning into the water. The electricity exploded once it hit the water, injuring several of the surrounding Pisceans at once.

The heroes fought as good as they could as well. Then, Trepat and Niklas were both hit by one of the Pisceans. Immediately, their friends were with them, cutting the ropes of the spears. Now, both weren't in danger of getting pulled into the ocean anymore, but the weapons were still sticking in their bodies.

Torn pulled the harpoon out of Niklas, and after Ben had taken care of the deep wound that was bleeding where the harpoon used to enter his shoulder, he went over to Trepat. The elf was hit in the stomach and was barely concious anymore. With one violent motion, he jerked the harpoon free. Fortunately, mercifull darkness surrounded Trepat then, saving him from the pain.

The battle raged on as the heroes were trying to fend for themselves. Already, two of the crewmen were overboard, their bodies drawn into unfathomable dephts. Each of the Pisceans who lost his harpoon disappeared underwater only to reappear after a short while with a new one. Then, everything grew silent. Donanngar had hit their leader, who had been flinging spells against the ship, right between the eyes, and the giant Pisceans fell backwards, dead.

Since they had already lost almost a dozen green pisceans as well, this was enough to break the attacker's morale, and as soon as the Pisceans had disappeared, the wind picked up again and they were able to sail away.

For the next day, they were wary about a new Piscean attack, but it never came, and eventually, they reached Thalien, where they hid the ship between some small islands within the delta of the island's biggest river.


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## Nightfall

Yes!  When Pisceans Attack! Great stuff Lars! Can't wait to see what else they bring home with them.


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## Lars Frehse

Thank you, I am glad you like it.

The next little chapter, which I am about to post now, is unique in a way. For the first time, I am not posting an actual log, but rather a little story that will become relevant for the characters soon. It took place long, long before the events in my campaign.

I hope you will like it.


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## Lars Frehse

*A sort of homecoming*

When Charkowar returned from his trip, he expected a welcome that was quite different from the one he would get. As he had been travelling around the globe, encountering more new cultures and new dangers than most mortals ever had, there was always one thing that kept him going: The thought of home: Hor'Kung.

It had been the same everywhere: In Termana, where the Charduni had captured him it was the thought of home that kept him going. Likewise, when the princess of Indrisa had offered him her hand and her kingdom, he had to tell her that he could never settle down anywhere but home.

Charkowar had left Hor' Kung when he was merely twenty years old, and now he was fourty, which was already old age for an Orc. In spite of the years, though, he was still in good shape, and his tusks were still strong and even. And even though he didn't look like the scrawny young wizard apprentice he had been twenty years ago anymore, the change to his outside was nothing compared to the changes within him.

He was most likely the first orc, if not the first mortal, who had travelled around the entire globe. The knowledge he had gathered in the meantime was far beyond that of any of his contemporaries, and the arcane arts he had mastered by now where second to none.

However, as he was flying low over the water on his flying carpet and he saw Thalien's mountains appearing over the horizon, he sensed that something wasn't as it was supposed to be. He stopped the carpet and cast a spell. Immediately, there were over a dozen of semitangible orbs hovering around him. He gave each of the orbs instructions to scout a part of the island and return to him afterwards.

After a few hours, the first orbs were back. With each of the orbs that landed on his palms, he absorbed what the "prying eyes" had seen. Soon, he knew why there were no sign of his people at the edge of the islands- no fisherboats, no young couples picknicking by the lake and no other signs- There were no orcs left...

He saw that there must have been a big war on the island. Hor'Kung, the city that used to be a home for over onehundredthousand orcs was destroyed. It's proud walls that were build with boulders that were the size of houses were torn down and all there was left of it's beautiful white marble houses was rubble.

Charkovar was stunned. He didn't know what to make of it. He remembered that the city state of Hor'Kung had been in constant trouble with a growing human empire on Ghelspad. But he never thought that the humans, who had always seemed to be a tad helpless to him could manage such a feat.

For a while, he considered jumping into the blue ocean under him. After all, there was nowwhere left for him to go. Each and everyone he ever knew here was dead. The alleys, the parks and the marketplaces where he had played as a kid were all destroyed. Likewise, everyone he knew here was dead, as well. Ending it all looked very appealing to him now.

Charkovar had never considered giving up before. Neither  when he was suddenly attacked by a red dragon in the Qu-Wack desert nor when he overheard his Charduni captors discussing whether they would kill him outright or sacrifice him to Chardun. But now, there was simply nothing left to do and nowwhere left to go. All that had been dear to him was gone.

He might have been about to jump off the carpet as a last eye returned to him. Absentmindedly, he opened his fist, and the small orb landed in his palms. Within seconds, it transmitted to him what it had seen in hours.

And all of a sudden his life had a purpose again.

The humans who had destroyed his home had left four small forts behind. Most likely they were to make sure that Orcs would never return here. In each of the forts, there were hundred soldiers, and the banners of the Ledean Empire were flying proudly in the wind on top of the masts.

He now knew what he had to do, although he was feeling nothing. He flew into a small forest where he spent the night. The next morning, he methodically prepared the spells he needed for his revenge. When he was done, he walked to the first camp, which was to the south of the ruins of Hor'Kung. 

He had almost left the forest, as he was hailed by a patrol of six soldiers. In spite of his archmage robes, the soldiers seemed to mistake him for a harmless survivor. He stopped, and their commander walked up to him, his selfconfidence showing with every step:"Now, now, now. What have we here... Another Orc... Well, we can take care of him right here, right now, can't we boys?"

Before the "boys" could answer, however, Charkovar answered instead by shooting lightning through the officer which then flashed over to the other soldiers, killing them all. He stepped over the bodies and left the forest. There, he saw the fort with his own eyes, some hundred yards ahead of him, right in the middle between the wood and the ruins of the city.

He summoned an elder Earth Elementar. It looked like a walking hill, and as it shambled towards the fort, the defenders' arrows bounced off it's rocky skin. It ignored the futile attacks of the soldiers as it destroyed the fort and killed each and everyone therein, just like a child with a cruel streak might ignore the desperate ant-attacks while he would destroy their hill.

Charkovar cast another spell, and he and his flying carpet turned invisble. He visited each of the three remaining camps like an invisible angel of death and most of the soldiers died without knowing what had hit them. Then, he hunted down every remaining human on the island and killed them all, men and women alike.

The whole operation had taken him merely half a day, and now, at last, the time had come for the mourning and loneliness to get a hold of him. For days, he walked aimlessly through the ruins of his city. He saw skulls and corpses everywhere, and eventually, he used his magic to animate the corpses so that they would collect all bones they found. Finally, when the corpses where done and they had built a huge pile in front of the great pyramid, which served as the main temple to Khadum, they laid themselves on top of the pile.

Now, as the sun was setting, everything that was left of the former inhabitants was piled up in a form that mirrored the pyramid. Charkovar summoned several fire elementals which burnt the bones to ashes and then they burnt the ashes until nothing was left...

Charkovar didn't watch the pyre. Instead, he walked up to the top of the pyramid. He wanted to check whether the secret door that lead inside was still untouched, but before he could enter the small building on top, he saw something white among the rouble to the east. Since he wasn't able to see what it was, he used magic to get a better picture, and to his surprise, he saw that there was still a statue of "the angel".

"The Angel" was a mythical figure. On pictures and statues, she was always depicted as a beautiful orcish woman with an even face and small ebony colored tusks. She had white swanwings and she was always holding her orcish doubleaxe that she used to punish those who harmed her charge: Orcs. Noone knew where she had come from, but it was widely supposed that she was a daughter of Khadum and one of the gods... Among the orcs, she was widely revered as the founder of Hor'Kung and the bringer of civilization.

He flew down to it. The statue was about eight foot tall and half buried under some rubble, yet it had survived the ravaging humans without a scratch. It was a miracle.

Charkovar animated some of the bigger rocks, which grew arms and legs, and he had them drag the angel up to the pyramid. There, he went into the small building that was really just four giant slabs of rocks as walls and another one as a roof. To his great relief, he saw that the humans had never discovered the secret shaft that lead into the interior of the temple.

He climbed down into it and activated a mechanism that moved some rocks in order to hide the shaft again. After that, he made sure that the statue was placed in the deepest room which also held the city's stock of antidote against the plague that had devastated the lands a century earlier.

The Orcish archmage then added a picture of the end of the city to the pictures that were lining the long corridor that lead to the core. The pictures showed several scenes from the history of the city, starting with the foundation. And after looking into the future, he also added a picture about the events that would take place in a year.

Then, he sat down on a chair that was facing the shaft, straightened his purple robes and slashed his wrists.

This is also where the story would end, if the soldiers had not sworn an oath in the name of Chardun...


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## SSS-Druid

Absolutely beautiful, Lars. That story was inspired.


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## Nightfall

LOL! Great stuff! I hope the poor Archmage orc finds some happiness. But yep upcoming ladies and germs, Chardun-slain!


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## LRathbun

*A little Praise*

I just wanted to chime in and say how much I like this story.  I have been reading it almost from the beginning (being a huge fan of the SL), and just thought it might be encouraging to you to know how much I've been enjoying it.  

Thanks much Lars!

LR


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## Lars Frehse

Thanks a lot. This encouragement really does mean a lot to me. 

I hope that I will be able to write another update untill wednesday- today I was at the dentist, and I still feel a bit weak on my knees.


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## Duncan Haldane

Lars Frehse said:
			
		

> *Today I was at the dentist, and I still feel a bit weak on my knees. *



Your dentist makes you kneel?  Mine has a chair for me to sit in 

Anyway, just wanted to say that I too am really enjoying this story.  

Duncan


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## Lars Frehse

Thank you, Duncan.

The next update will be a rather short one, but I hope that I will be able to post more by this evening. (If work is slow).


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Chapter 13: A new Hope- part 1*

The Ghostmaid was rocking gently in the river delta and the sun was rising into the clear blue sky as the heroes went ashore. Since the eastern bank of the river went over into mangroove swamps, making it hardly passable, they landed on the other bank, hoping to find a ford further upriver.

The only steeds they took along were Donnangar’s dire wolf and Ben’s horserat, since they weren’t sure whether their horses could manage the terrain they were about to cross. For hours, they walked through marshland, and the sun burned down on them while the ponds and swamps around them were stinking of decomposing plants and animals.

The climate around them was much warmer than they expected this far up north. It seemed that Kadum’s blood was warming up the water and the air of the blood sea, so that the toe islands had mangrove swamps and other features one would only expect in tropic areas.

Around noon, the stench around them was almost unbearable. At some point, the marsh gas made them gag and they wondered whether they would have to go back and circle around this particular part of the swamp, as a tentacle shot from out of the reeds around them and wrapped itself around Jan. Before he could react, the tentacle pulled Niklas towards the reeds, and now the heroes saw their attackers: They were being attacked by three headed horse-sized toads, and the tentacle was actually a tongue…

Immediately, four more got out of the swamps, attacking the heroes with their tongues, which they shot at them in order to wrap them up and swallow them. Jan was able to rip himself free, but Trepat was less lucky. Just after he cast a spell, he was swallowed by one of the toads. At that time, all of his friends were busy with toads that had engaged them.

It was dark within the huge toad and the elf felt the beast’s digestive acid burning into his flesh as he was mangled as the internal muscles around him were contracting. Fighting down the feeling of claustrophobia, Trepat remembered that the spell he had cast enabled him to transmit negative energy with his hand.

He forcefully moved his hand so that he touched the stomach wall with the palm of his right hand, and as he felt the dark energy streaming through him, the toad’s flesh close to his palm started to wither away. He kept on pressing against the spot as he felt the acid burning ever deeper into him until the toad’s muscles and skin tore apart and there was an opening through which he was able to press himself.

It was like a parody of a birth, as he exited the toad’s body, and like a newborn, he was covered in blood. Bile and blood gushed out of the wound which shortly afterwards closed again.

By now, his friends had gained the upper hand, and Donnangar came to Trepat’s aid. After he killed the toad with his falchion, he healed the elf.

The stench toads were all killed, stinking even worse than before (if such a thing is possible), and they all agreed to leave the swamp as quickly as possible, and a few hours later, they had finally left the swamps and were now in knee-high grassland. They walked along the river’s bank for a few more hours, but since they didn’t find a ford before sunset, they set up camp, intending to look further on the next day.


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## Lars Frehse

*A new hope- part 2*

The night was warm and damp just like the day had been, and bugs and mosquitos were feasting on the adventurers' blood.

In the morning, they marched on, and after a few hours, they discovered a shallow and calm part of the river, where it could be crossed easily. Once on the other side of the river, they marched eastwards, and there was a forest to their right and a formation of white rocks to the left. Less than a century ago, there had been quarries and small settlements of workers and craftsmen at the western edge of the rockformation, mining marble for the temples of Mithril. But than, the blood monsoon and the growing threat of pirates had made it almost impossible to maintain an outpost in the middle of the blood sea, and so it had been abandoned eventually.

All through the day, they could see the formations to their left. The shining white of the marble and basalt was gleaming like pure white snow in the sunlight, and it looked oddly out of place, like giant blocks which had been dropped into the plain. When they got tired of looking into the light to their left, they could rest their eyes by turning their head to the wood to their right. Even though it was still warm, the trees felt the coming of autumm and were getting ready to shed their leafy skirts. Everywhere the friends looked, they saw beautiful autumm colors, and the leaves were covering the wood in every shade of orange and red.

The mosquitos were left behind with the river and the marsh, and the day was so pleasant, that they were able to forget their worries for a while. When the sun set, they were all in a rather cheerful mood, and they settled down for a peaceful night.

In the morninglight of the next day, the heroes discovered a breach in the forest to the south. Looking into it, they saw that there was a corridor leading southpark with wheel-tracks visible in the grass covered ground. Since there were no new trees or bushes there, it was clear that this path had been used until not too long ago.

Trepat took a closer look and found boot imprints as well. He told the others and Jan said:" Well, maybe some pirates were pulling marble here... After all, they are supposed to hide somewhere here in the toe islands."

Niklas  pulled out the map:" The strange thing is that it looks like the breach leads down to the ruins of Hor'Kung... I wonder what that could mean..."

"If there are really pirates at the end of this corridor, I wonder how they will welcome visitors", said Trepat.

Niklas shrugged:" We want nothing from them. So, if they ask us, we can tell the truth. In any case, I think it would be best if we would avoid them. Especially since they wouldn't be too happy to see a Paladin around...".

They turned into the breach, Donanngar and Ben on their steeds and the rest of them on foot. The corridor was about twenty feet wide and over it, the branches of the flanking trees were meeting, making the path feel like a wooden tunnel. The sound of their steps were muffled by the leaves and grass on the ground and they only talked in whispers with each other, so that their own noises were drowned by the sound of the leaves in the winds.

In the afternoon, Trepat was the first to hear it: In the distance, the sound of axes hitting wood was echoing through the forest. He signalled his companions to stop, and now they all heard the sound of a tree crashing to the ground, accompanied by a shout.

When the last echo of the crash had gone, Trepat said:" I think that was Ledean for "Timber"".

Ledean was the language of an empire that had once, before the divine war, covered almost all of Ghelspad. The empire was long gone, but their language still served as a lingua france.

"Makes sense," Niklas said,"if those are really pirates, they probably come from all kinds of different countries..."

"But we are in the middle of the island here. It doesn't make much sense for pirates to stay so far away from the coast...", Ben added.

Niklas nodded in agreement:"Who knows. Anyway, I will go and take a look now".

And with that, he left into the woods. The monk moved swiftly southward, gingerly avoiding twigs, branches and other things that might give him away, if they would break under his feet. As he scouted ahead, the sounds of the axes chopping down trees grew ever louder, until he reached a clearing.

He hid low in the bushes and peeked through branches and leaves and with a shudder, he now saw the "woodworkers" for the first time.

They were dead.

There were a dozen of them. All of them were moving and except for two, they were all chopping wood or preparing a log for transportation, but each of them was in a shape that shouldn't allow him to live on. Some of them had open skulls, or bones that were showing through rotting flesh, while others looked like they had been immolated or smashed. Furthermore, each of them looked like their flesh had decayed for a while until the process of decay had stopped and they were conserved in this state.

Each of them seemed to have been a soldier in life: they were wearing a uniform-armor, which was oldfashioned and worn but in good fighting shape. And even though they looked like the zombies the friends had encountered back in the blood steppes, those undead didn't seem as clumsy and mindless as those brainless living dead at all.

These undead behaved every bit like professional soldiers, and from the looks, the two who weren't doing the physical labor were their officers. And now that Nikas took a closer look, he saw that the ones he considered to be officers were actually wearing different badges on their shoulderpads than the other ones. 

Niklas watched them preparing two logs for a little while. When the undead soldiers talked, or when the officers gave orders, they spoke a strange form of Ledean, the likes of which Niklas had never heard before. Once he had seen enough, he crawled away as silently as he had come and returned to his friends to report to them what he had seen.


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## Nightfall

Chardun-slain woodsmen!  I love it Lars!


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## Lars Frehse

*A new hope- part 3 of 5*

His friends were stunned. They would have been ready to deal with any pirates if they would have run into them, but undead soldiers who were acting like a troop of pioneers, now that was something completely different.

Jan was agitated:” What are we waiting for then? We should attack these abberations right now!”

“Are you insane? There are a dozen of them, and we don’t know anything about their strength! Attacking them could turn out to be suicide!”, Trepat exclaimed.

The heroes debated heatedly under their breath whether to attack the undead or not, until Donnangar interrupted them, his deep and calm, yet strong voice silencing them for the moment:” I think the elf is right. It is unwise to attack an enemy about which you know nothing. You see, right now, we are at an advantage: We know they exist, but they don’t know we do.

“So far, we don’t even know anything about their numbers or their organization, if there is any. But from what you describe, the ones you saw behave like pioneers. Were they alive, this would mean that they would merely be specialists within a much larger organization. In any case, we should watch them, and maybe find a better opportunity to destroy them this way.

“Ultimately, though, the mission Gortak assigned to us is more important than ridding an uninhabitated part of the world of undead. If possible, I would like to make sure we get the cure and get it back to my people. Everything else is secondary to that.”.

Even Jan aknowledged that the orc was right, and they agreed that he had a good point. They left the path for good now and went deeper into the wood, where they settled down for the night. Time went by without much happening, until around midnight, when Trepat and Donnangar were on watch, they saw torchlight on the path.

Trepat sneaked up back to the path, and now he saw more of the undead himself. There was a nightpatrol of what appeared to be six regular soldiers and one officer. Two of the soldiers were carrying torches and they were marching with the routine of men who were very familiar with their surrounding terrain. He pressed his body low to the ground, and when he was sure that he was out of earshot, he crawled back to the camp.

On the next morning, they walked southwards through the woods. They found several clearings which were in different states of regrowing. There was the new clearing, where Niklas had seen the undead working the other day but also other ones where no trees had been chopped in years. It appeared that the soldiers had already spent at least decades on the island, carefully using it’s resources.

They reached the edge of the forest around noon. Peeking out of it, they saw a plain and about two miles away were the remnants of Hor’Kung. The once proud city that had been a home for a hundredthousand orcs once, was now nothing more than a gian field of rubble, with vines and other plants growing over it’s tumbled stones. From their vantage point, the heroes also saw two wooden forts with marble foundation just outside of the city-ruins, about three miles from each other.

All in all it looked, as if the plain was not grown with trees by now, because the vegetation was burned down every few years- the trees behind which they were hiding were slightly charred, and the earth was definetly mixed with ashes.

Donanngar, however, didn’t pay heed to those details at the moment. He was speechless and stared at the ruins. Ever since he had heard the legends of the old Orcish culture for the first time when he was a kid, he had dismissed them as nice legends without much truth in it. After all, raiding and herding was all there was to an Orc’s life, while the nicer aspects of it, like a hearth and a solid home were reserved to the winners of the divine war: humans and their allies.

Here, however, he saw the proof that Orcs were in fact capable of much more. While the adventurers saw nothing but rubble, Donanngar was able to imagine what this city must have looked like once... Were it still standing, it would be equal to Mithril in both size and splendour…

Donnangar was unaware of his surroundings as Trepat shook his shoulders:” Donnangar, you see that there?”

He followed the elf’s pointed finger and saw a patrol in the plain. After a while, he saw a second one.

“It would be best if we go at night, I think” Niklas said,”After all, they are human corpses, and they were carrying torches. So it is likely that their eyes are not any better at night than Jan’s or mine.”

Ben nodded in agreement:” Makes sense.”

The adventurers waited at the edge of the forest until nightfall, and once the sun’s last afterglow had vanished, they walked out on the plain, slowly calculating the movements of the two patrols that they could see. When the patrols were the farest from each other, they fell into a slow run, covering the two miles between the wood and the ruins with their bodies bent forward in order to be less visible.

Fivehundredyards before they reached the ruins, however, one of the patrols sounded a horn. The adventurers saw the torches of the two patrols bopping up and down- clearly they were now running towards them. Now, the heroes ran as fast as they could in the dark towards the ruins, which were about as far from them as the patrols.

As they reached them, they climbed over the rubble of the former city walls, until they found some roads which were still intact enough to run on them, and for an hour, they zig-zagged into the city until they found the ruin of an old house into which they crawled and hid for the night. Outside, every now and then, they could hear several distinct horn signals echoing through the ruined streets.

The undead soldiers had sent several patrols into the city, searching for them.


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## Nightfall

Yeah!  Must have more!!


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## Lars Frehse

Before I post the next update, I just wanted to give a little explanation as to why it took so long.

As you probably know by now, I like to keep up with my campaign in my storyhour, and so a week without updates is highly unusual. My honeymoon was an exception to the rule obviously.

However, last week, I got an inner ear infection which had been torturing me for over a week- in spite of medication it spread to both ears, so that at one point, I was both in pain and almost deaf to boot.

By now, my ears are almost back to normal, and so I can resume my regular schedule. And since I won't DM this weekend, I am optimistic that my story hour will be up-to-date again by the next session.

So, thanks to all my faithfull readers for waiting on me.


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## Lars Frehse

*A new hope- part 4 of 5*

Meanwhile, Donanngar and Jan took the first watch. The orc would have liked to go on, but he didn’t even know what they were looking for. He was certain that he would recognize whatever it was, when he saw it, but for now, all he could do was wait with his newfound friends. His back was leaning against the side of Plainsrunner, his horsesized dire wolf as he watched Jan, who was laying low on the pile of rubble that blocked the entrance of their hideaway, and he silently cleaned his weapons.

Even though Jan was hardly able to see anything in the night, he was hiding crouched behind the pile in hope of using his ability to sense evil, should one of the patrols come through the old alley in front of him. After all, even though he was as blind in the dark as any other human, his perception of evil auras wasn’t hampered by the darkness, and not even stones could block it.

An hour that seemed like a small eternity crawled by, until he heard several bootsteps marching into the alley. They were coming towards his position and their torchlight was reflected by the upper beam of the doorway above him. Jan pressed himself against the rubble, as the undead soldiers finally reached his supernatural view and he saw that they were indeed shrouded in an aura of evil.

Immediately, Jan crawled down in order to tell his friends, but his plate armor made him clumsy, and so some of the rubble got unwedged and tumbled down the pile. Unaware of the noise he had created, the Paladin walked up to Donanngar in order to tell him of his discovery, as the Orc shouted out a warning.

Now, the adventurers woke up, grabbing for their weapons, and they saw six of the undead soldiers jumping down the pile of rubble into the large room in which they were in. Except for their officer, who was wearing a shining set of plate mail, a shield and a bastard sword, they were all wearing an antique form of scale mail and wielding warhammers, while they held torches in their left hands.

As the soldiers charged at the adventurers, one of them staid behind. He pulled out a horn and sounded it and before the last note of the triumphant signal had echoed away, the soldiers had already clashed into the intruders.

They fought with the mixture of determination and routine commonly found in well trained soldiers, and they were more than a match for their enemies. Except for Donanngar and Jan, none of the friends were wearing armor, so they had to be double careful to avoid the brutal warhammers. Niklas, who’s martial arts training had taught him to fight without armor, formed a line with the Orc and the Paladin, while Ben and Trepat supported from behind.

As the fight wore on, Ben used his wand of healing to take care of the wounds of his friends while they were still fighting and Trepat shot magic missiles at their undead enemies. However, by the time Donnangar had defeated the officer, Jan went down and there were still three soldiers, one of which used the breach in order to get at Trepat. Before the Elf could react, the Undead’s warhammer hit him square on the head, and he fell down, unconcious.

Niklas and Ben, who had summoned a flamesword by now, fought on, as Donnangar used his healing powers to fully restore Jan. Now, the field was evened again, and after the Orc had healed Trepat as well, he aided the heroes against the remaining two soldiers. And then, as quickly as the battle had begun, it was over, and they stood panting and sweating over their defeated foes.

Ben took his horserat by the reigns: “We got to get out of here! There should be patrols coming in from all over the city right now!”

“You’re right”, Niklas answered as he picked up his pack. As they were about to leave, Trepat cast a spell to detect magic among the equipment of their defeated foes, and really, the officer’s bastard sword was glowing, showing him that it had been enchanted. He picked it up and they stumbled out into the night.

For another two hours they walked through the ruined city. Donnangar scouted ahead, since his experience as a ranger and his orcish nightvision made him the logical choice, and they took good care that they avoided the other patrols out there.

Again, they heard the horns resounding in the night, and the humans and the halfling had to be double careful as they walked- the light of the halfmoon provided hardly enough light for the vines covered rubble on which they were moving most of the time. It was hard enough to avoid stumbling and much more difficult to remain silent.

But luck was one their side, and at last, when they found another hidden shelter in what seemed to had been a mansion a long time ago, they had time to settle down for some more sleep. However, after the events of the day, sleep didn’t come easily for all of them, and Ben asked:” How in the name of the mother did they find us?”

“I got no idea”, Jan shrugged.

Donanngar grunted:”But I have. The Paladin had moved from his lookout post while the patrol was still in the vicinity. The sound of his armor and the rubble that he set loose was enough for the soldiers to find us.”

Ben was flabberghasted and he had to summon all his will in order not to shout out:” Why did you do that?”

“Oh,” Jan answered and he seemed to be genuinely surprised about the reaction of the halfling:” I wanted to see whether they are evil. And when I was able to see that they really are, I returned to you, so that I could tell you?”

Now Ben was fuming:” I thought you had military training, tall guy! Don’t ever do that again! Next time when you are hiding, stay hidden until you are sure you are alone!”

“I apologize. Next time, I will be more careful. I didn’t think that undead ones would be so perceptive…”

Ben accepted the Paladin’s outstretched hand:” Good then. Just don’t let it happen again”.

The halfling now went to sleep, and as he was drifting into the lands of dreams, he thought back to when he had first met the redhaired boy in Oreirover all those years back, and he silently wondered just how much longer he would have to look out for him.

When the sun rose on the next morning, the adventurers went to a big heap of rocks that looked like a hill that was made of marble stones and grown over with vines. Carefully, they climbed it, and from there, they could see a good part of the city stretching out into all directions in the morning light. As they looked around, they saw a big pyramind about a mile away which seemed to be still intact.

Donnangar was transfixed. He had seen this pyramid in his dreams, many times before: ”There. That is where we will find the cure.”.


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## Duncan Haldane

Good update Lars.

I'm glad to hear you are feeling better - having had lots of ear problems when I was young I know what it's like.

I was wondering what level the characters are now.  Could you please let us know?

Thanks

Duncan


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## Lars Frehse

Thank you. 

Right now, they are all at level three, closing in on level four. I think I will simply cash in their character sheets after the next session, so that I can post their stats in the Gallery. Two of the characters are dual class: Trepat is a ranger/sorceror and Torn is a rogue/barbarian. Jan is a Paladin, Niklas a monk and Ben a druid.

They were all done with the point buy method in the DMG and we went for "high powered campaign", meaning 32 points.

The amount of EPs I hand out is slightly less than suggested in the DMG. I hand out about two third of the intended amount, since in my last campaign, I felt that the characters were rushing through the low levels way too fast, thus hardly allowing for any feeling of achievement.

As I said, I will try to post their stats sometime soon.


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## Lars Frehse

*A new hope- part 5 of 5*

Getting to the pyramid was a time consuming process, since some parts of the ruined city were impassable, forcing them to backtrack half of the time. Since they also had to avoid the patrols which were by now swarming the city, it was already afternoon when they finally reached the Orcish monument.

In front of it, there was a large plaza that was mostly free of rubble. Even though it had been untouched for centuries, there were still scorchmarks on the marble floor and the surrounding structures. Apparently, a gigantic bonfire had burnt here long ago.

The pyramid itself was a hundred yards high, and the side the heroes were facing was slightly longer than the other three sides. In the middle, there were stairs leading up and on top of it, there was a platform with a small but massive building made of black rock.

Donanngar pointed to the stairs:” Do you see the furrows to the left and right of the stairs? I don’t know how I know this, but the Orcs who lived here eons ago used to round up their captives on a special day on which they celebrated Chardun. Then, they would behead them on that platform up there, and the blood would flow down the furrows. They considered it bad luck when they hadn’t had enough captured soldiers for the blood to reach the square, and if necessary, they would fight each other until they had the minimum number of warriors to sacrifice.”.

The adventurers looked at the Orc who had told them his people’s lore with a neutral voice, as if he was talking about some harmless harvesting ritual. In the time they had spent together, they had completely forgotten that Donnangar did indeed come from a culture far more violent and harsh than any of theirs.

Climbing the city in daylight would have made them visible from afar, and so the friends decided to wait once again until the sun would set. They searched the ruins around the grand plaza for a suitable hideaway for the horserat and the dire wolf and once they found one, Donnangar and Ben explained to the animals that they would have to wait there.

At last, night came and they walked up the stairs with bent down backs, making themselves as small as they could. The small temple on the platform was basically four upright slabs of rock with another one square on top and there was a rather small entranceway into the lightless structure.

The temple itself was nothing more than one big room. If there had ever been anything in there, it had been long gone, and the room was empty except for one small lizard which wiggled it’s way out of the room as the adventurers entered it.

“This can’t be it”, Donnangar said,”there must be a way into the pyramid.”.

Trepat nodded:” Yes, let’s look around, then!”

The elf and the orc started examining the floor and the walls while the others had to wait. They didn’t dare to light up a torch or a lantern, fearing that any light streaming out of the entrance could attract the attention of their undead pursuers. So, the two who were able to see in the dark carefull searched the structure inch for inch, and after a while, in which the humans and the halfling looked out of the entrance, where they saw occasional spots of lights giving away patrols in the debris below, Trepat found something.

“There are two parts of the wall at opposite sides of the room that seem to have been added into the rock. They look slightly different than the rest.”, he said and after a short pause, he asked Donnangar:”Please, press there, while I will press here”.

Trepat and Donnangar pressed, and in the middle of the room, a slab of rock moved into the floor and gave way to a rectangular shaft that lead down into the darkness. There were iron rungs set into the stone, and Jan climbed them down. The shaft was about twenty feet deep and under it was a ten foot high room.

Jan, who had hooked his lantern to his belt, climbed down until he was hanging on the lowest rung and then dropped the remaining two feet. Now he was in a room about the size of the temple above him, but obviously, this one had never been looted, since there were beautiful multicolored tapestries on the wall and the floor and the ceiling was covered with more colorful paintings.

In front of him, he saw the skeleton of an orc sitting on a small throne. The skeleton was wrapped in a purple robe that was embroidered with golden arcane and orcish runes. After the days in which they had dodged undead, and Jan used his supernatural sense of evil to determine whether the one in front of him was another one, but there was no aura enshrouding the skeleton- apparently this one was truly dead.

He told his friends that everything was clear, and after they had all climbed down, they discovered a lever with which they could close the secret door on top of them again. Now that they were all in the chamber, they had a chance to look at the tapestries and pictures. All of them showed orcs fighting battles or building the city. On some of them, there was a picture of Khadum, but there was only one thing all of the pictures had in common: On each of them, there was the image of a beautiful Orc-woman with white swanwings. She was clad in a shining plate mail and was wielding an orcish double axe.

Her picture was so striking, that even Trepat found her to be beautiful- and beauty was something he never expected to find in the face of an orc. He turned to Donnangar:” Do you know who that angel is?”

Donnangar shook his head:” No. But, she sure is incredibly beautiful.” 

“And what do you want to do with the skeleton’s robe? I just checked and it is magical.”.

“I don’t know. Let us decide on our way back out, shall we?”, and with that he turned to the only doorway that opened to a corridor that lead down and deeper into the pyramid.

The corridor was a gallery that was twenty feet high. On both walls, there were successive pictures of what seemed to be the history of Hor’ Kung. First there were orcs fighting wars. Then, the angel appeared and seemed to help them fighting their wars and constructing their city. The further the heroes walked along the gallery, the more progress the orcs were making with their city. The wallpictures were showing battle scenes half of the time, but occasionaly, there were peaceful activities depicted as well.

After a few dozen yards, the gallery, which had lead down paralell to the stairs outside for thirty yards turned around and lead down into the center of the pyramid. Again, there were pictures, until finally, right before the corridor ended in front of a huge bronze door, the pictures changes.

On the last pictures, there were human soldiers who were dressed and equipped like the undead ones the heroes had encountered themselves. This time, the angel wasn’t there and the pictures showed the Orcs loosing the battle.

The last two pictures showed the city in ruins. There was a single orc in a robe like the one the skeleton was wearing in the entrance chamber who was using all kinds of arcane magic to kill hundreds of soldiers. And finally, there was a picture of the plains in front of the city. Dead hands were clawing their way out of the ground while undead were pulling themselves out of their graves. The sky on that picture was dark, except for the starsign of Chardun’s sceptre, which was bathing the dreadful scene below in an unholy light.

The bronze doors weren’t locked and in spite of their weight and age, they swung open with the slightest resistance. The final chamber was again as big as the upper one and the temple and the only things in there were marble shelves with packages on them and an eight foot tall marble statue of the angel they had seen on the pictures before.

Ben went to the packages, which seemed to be untouched by the passing of years, and immediately, he recognized the herb inside as the cure for the Orc plague. His druidic knowledge told him that a few leaves in a big kettle would suffice in healing an entire Orcish tribe.

Meanwhile, Donanngar meekly walked up to the statue. His head was bowed and he stretched his open hands out with the palms showing up. Then, all of a sudden, the statue moved it’s head. It’s already benign face was now full of love and compassion and the room filled with a warm and pleasant light while there was a barely audible angelic choir singing somewhere.

There was a short flash of light, and a full bag appeared in Donnangar’s arms and next to each of the heroes. The statue, however, had reversed to her original lifeless form and the light and the faint music were gone again..

Ben looked into his bag, and again his ability to discern the qualities of all plants, whether they are known to man or not, helped him. The bag was filled with seeds, and Ben grabbed a fistful of it:” This is wheat, but a form of wheat I had never heard of. It is so tough, it should be able to thrive and grow even in the plains of Lede.

“Donanngar, you told us that you think that there should be a better life for your people. I believe that this better life is in these bags here!”.


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## Nightfall

Yes!  Wheat and a CURE! Looks like the Plains orcs will have some bread to munch on their kills with!


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## LRathbun

*Great Story*

That last segment of the story (a new hope) was the best so far.  Keep up the good work!

LR


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## Lars Frehse

Thank you, I am glad you are enjoying it. 
The idea for this plot line comes from the Mithril sourcebook, by the way, and I mixed the ideas from the book with some of my own.


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## Lars Frehse

*Carrying the Cure- part1*

The heroes stood in the hall for a while longer.

Torn was the first to speak again:" I think we should get going now. This way, we can get back into the forest before the sun rises again."

He pulled out the map that Azaton had made for them and after his friends had gathered around him, he pointed at the forest to the north of the ruin:"Now, this is the where we found the path. However, I think we can be certain that the undead will either be blocking it or they have prepared an ambush there. If we cut through the wood to the west of the path and head northwest, we shouldn't loose much time and we would be able to shake any persuers as well."

His friends agreed, and after he had rolled his map up, they put the bags of wheat and the medicine into the bag of holding and left the room. Donanngar stayed back for a moment and stared at the statue for a little while. He sighed deeply and then followed his newfound friends.

In the upper chamber, Donnangar went to the skeleton and carefully picked up the robe, but the moment he touched it, the skeleton fell apart, and it's bones fell clattering to the floor. With a slow movement that looked like revery, the orc picked up each of the bones and wrapped it into the robe, which he stored away in his backpack.

They left the ruins and picked up the horserat and the direwolf. Then, they headed northwest, and again they took care to avoid any patrols. The night was chilly, giving the first hint that winter was finally about to reach this island inspite of the warm titan's blood in the sea and Belsameth's pale moonlight made their breath visible in front of them.

They were almost halfway through the city, as Jan stumbled over a loose rock in the cracked pavement under him and fell down. The sound of his full platemail crashing on the rock disrupted the night's silence like a churchbell and they all stood frozen. Then, as Donnangar and Niklas helped the Paladin up, they heard the sound of horns.

There was nothing they could do but get to the crumbled city wall as quickly as possible. As they hurried through the night, they heard more horn signals every now and then, and each time they seemed to be just a little bit louder than the previous time- their pursuers were closing in.

Finally, though, they reached the remnants of the wall. Jan got out of his armor and stored into the bag of holding with the wheat and put on a leather armor. Beyond the wall, they saw the torches of two patrols between the forts. It appeared as if the two patrols had just met each other and were now moving away from each other.

Knowing that there were pursuers somewhere behind, the adventurers waited as long as they dared to between the rubble. Then, when the patrols had ample space between them, they started to sneak out into the night.

For a few hundred yards, they remained unnoticed. Then, the patrol to their right sounded their horn and immediately both patrols turned around to intercept the adventurers.

There was still a mile and a half between the heroes and the forest and several hundred yards seperated them from the patrols. They fell into a wild dash: Ben and Donnangar rode ahead on their steeds and Niklas and Torn, who were fast runners, kept up. Jan and Trepat were forming the end of the field, and even though they were running at full speed, they couldn't keep up with the other ones.

They ran as fast as their feet would carry them until they left the soldiers far behind them and they felt that they couldn't run anymore. Their blood was hammering in their temples and inspite of the night's chill they were drenched in sweat. Yet, even though they would have wanted to lay down and recover on the grassy ground, they fell into a doublemarch and closed in on the wood.

The patrols behind them, who were hampered by their scale mails, weren't able to keep up and they sounded their horns which now seemed to carry a note of disappointment. However, the pursuers lit up arrows and sent two last volleys of flaming arrows after their prey. Jan and Trepat were wounded, but they were still able to march on as they pulled out the arrows. However, some of the small bushes nearby caught fire and now the reinforcements which were streaming out of the two forts behind had a clear indication as to where they had to march to.

At last they all reached the edge of the forest. Behind them, on the field between the city and the forest, there were now dozens of torches moving towards them. It was clear, that there was no time to rest yet, and they set of into the wood.

For hours, they marched in silence and they waded through a small stream and passed around any deep underbrush they encountered in order to leave as few tracks as possible. The morning came and they all felt tired and exhausted. Staying awake in the grey morning light became a struggle on top of having to march on. Even though all of them would have loved to close their eyes and embrace the realm of dreams, they had set their minds on reaching the small river to the west first. There, on the other side in the high grass, they could settle down- should any of their pursuers approach them there, then they would have to cross the river first-giving the friends ample time to either fight or run.

However, as they marched and rode through the wood, that goal was still at least a day's march away. Their feet carried them on and some of them fell into a halfwake state as they trudged on.

Around noon, they reached a glade. The sun was shining down at them, but they were hardly aware of their surroundings. Suddenly, behind bushes around them, six undead stood up. They were all wearing light armor and they were holding bows. Each of them shot an arrow at the group, injuring Niklas, Jan and Trepat and before the heroes could react, they dropped their bows and pulled out a long- and a shortsword each.

As the friends pulled out their weapons, the undead rangers had approached and started the melee.


----------



## Ruined

Eesh, undead rangers. No fun!!

Good work, Lars. Keep it up!


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## Nightfall

Yeah Lars that's just disturbing! Let the poor guys rest!


----------



## Lars Frehse

Ah, I couldn't give them a rest. After all, the group has encountered remnants of the Ledean legions... And the ledeans didn't conquer the continent by doing a half-assed job. (Can I say half-assed here?)

Anyway, a little bonus information: When the troops were left behind to make sure that no Orcs would resettle, another civil war disrupted the Ledean empire, so that the small outpost was basically forgotten in the chaos.

And now, on with our scheduled program.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Carrying the cure- part 2*

The scouts were professionals like the other undead soldiers on the island, and they tried to seperate single members of the group in order to attack them from two sides at once. However, the friends countered those maneuvers- they, too were by now able to coordinate themselves without the need to talk much.

Donnangar fought the one who was apparently the leader of the rangers while they all tried to shield Trepat from the attackers, so that the elf could support them with magic missiles. For a while, the battle raged evenly, but then both Niklas and Donnangar had defeated their foes and once the heroes had the strength of numbers on their side defeating the remaining ones was easy.

After Donnangar, Jan and Ben had healed the wounds that they and their friends had received, Ben scanned the equipment of their vanquished foes and discovered that the grey, unadorned hooded coat of the leader was indeed magical. They picked it up and once their pulses had returned to normal and they had recovered from the strain of the battle, they marched on.

The remainder of the afternoon passed by without much happening. Ben fell asleep in the saddle and Trepat lead the horserat by the reigns. At last, in the afternoon, they reached the edge of the forest. To their north was the marble rockformation and in the west, just on the edge of the horizon, they could see setting sun reflecting golden in the river.

By now, it took all their strength of will to march on. They had been awake for almost fourty hours by now- fourty hours that had been spent climbing ruins, exploring an old temple, running at full speed and doublemarching through the autummleaves covered forest. Yet, they walked on, secretly envying the halfling who was sleeping peacefully while he was hugging his companion's back.

It got dark as they marched on through the plain and at last, deep at night, they had reached the ford at which they had crossed the river before. Torn, who's orcish eyes enabled him to see even as clouds were covering the dark sky above, crossed it and fastened a rope to a tree at the other side of the river. Then he returned, and Donanngar and him carried the others on their backs over the river. Even though the water was shallow here, there were still enough holes and rocks which made crossing the river tricky if you couldn't see properly.

At last, they were all over on the other side, and Donnangar volunteered to take the first watch. Hours passed and when his turn was over, he woke up Trepat and Torn. During their watch, Trepat saw the reflection of torchlight on the far end of the white rocks. It looked like the undead soldiers had sent their main contigent through the corridor.

Trepat pointed it out to Torn, but the reflection was so faint that the half-orc wansn't able to see it. However, both were relieved- the light meant that their force marched had given them a full day advantage over their pursuers. Since it would take merely a day through the swamps to reach their ship, they seemed to be safe.

Then it was Donnangar's turn again- the orc had insisted that he would take two watches. He claimed that his life in the Plains of Lede had long ago taught him to deal with little sleep, and the friends were ready to believe him.

In the morning, which came much too early after the exhaustions of the past days, they turned south into the swamps. It was a grey day- there was a constant drizzle all through the day, and as they moved through the marshland, they were soon all soaked to their skin.

Whenever the smell around them was becoming too overpowering, they took a detour. Even though they couldn't discern whether the stink was created by stenchtoads or just regular swampgases, they didn't want to take a risk.

In the evening, as the rain and the wind was getting worse, they finally reached the delta. There they saw the Ghostmaid anchored where it had been when they had left it. But, to their mutual surprise, they saw that the sloop wasn't alone- there was another ship of similar shape moored a hundred yards from it, and a rowboat was rocking on the water next to the Ghostmaid.

 Not knowing what to make out of it, Ben volunteered to swim ahead with his horserat and get a closer look. After all, it was possible that the elven crew had fallen victims to pirates. Having a hunch about the ranger's coat that they had salvaged on the previous day, Ben tried it on. At first, nothing happened, but as he pulled the hood over his head, he immediately started to blend in with his surrounding.

Now that he was camouflaged, he mounted his steed and directed it into the water. Like it's smaller cousins, the horserat was an apt swimmer, and it swiftly moved to the Ghostmaid. There, Ben saw that everything seemed to be in order- two elves were idly talking above him  He climbed up and explained to the surprised elves that his friends were waiting on the beach.

They picked the group up with another rowboat than the one that was currently starboards of the ship, and as Ben asked the elves about the other ship, all they said was that the captain of the new vessel was a friend of Captain Khemaitas.

On board, the captain was just leaving his cabin, and with him there was a flamboyant woman who was followed by two humans, a half orc and a slender humanoid with almond shaped eyes and ears that were twice as long as those of elves.

He spread his arms in greeting:"Ah! I am glad to see that you all made it back just fine! Meanwhile, we had the great fortune, that the "Wavecutter" sailed into this bay as well to fetch water! May I introduce: This is my esteemed colleague, Saleen Valka and some members of the crew.".

Khemaitas introduced them all to each other, and Jan noticed that the half orc and one of the humans was clearly evil. He asked Captain Valka:" What brings you here? After all, it is a dangerous place, with all those pirates around.".

The woman smiled warmly:"Ah, don't you worry. We are more than capable of dealing with pirates.".

"Yes, but you are far out. We were told that there are many pirates supposed to be here. What brings you here."

Khemaitas was flashing an angry look at the naive paladin, and before the woman could answer, Torn interrupted:" Anyway, we need to get out of here tonight. We are being chased.".

Khemaitas seemed both genuinely concerned and jumped at the opportunity to change the subject:" Chased? By whom?"

They told him about the undead soldiers and Niklas added:" The biggest danger is that those undead are rather cunning. They had used flamearrows before, and since we are still in the range of longbows, we should leave immediately."

Khemaitas turned to Valka:" Do you think you could lead the way out of here in the dark?"

"Sure", she answered:"We had been in this delta often enough. You just stay right behind us."

She gave Khemaitas a short kiss and waved the rest of the crew and the adventurers goodbye. Then, both she and her entourage rowed back to their ship.

Both ships unrolled their sails, and the Ghostmaid followed the Wavecutter. The captain was standing at the helm, and Jan told him:" Sir, I need to tell you this: I have the suspicion that Captain Valka and her crew are pirates!".

Khemaitas swallowed a chuckle and his face turned serious:" In the name of Tanil! Those are hard accusations! Believe me, she is a venturer like me, and I am certain she would never do anything I wouldn't."

Jan didn't notice that the captain wasn't exactly denying that she could be a pirate, and before he could raise the ire of their host, his friends took him along with him to their cabin.


----------



## Nightfall

Poor Jan! The guy never seems to catch a break.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Carrying the Cure part 3 of 3*

They left the bay, and the Wavecutter turned south while the Ghostmaid sailed west. As they left the island and the undead behind, the wind got stronger and turned into an outright storm, so that there was no sleep to be had for the friends.

Fortunately, the Ghostmaid had endured many bad weathers like this one and the crew was used to situations like that, so that the ship rode the church-high´waves with ease. Then, around noon, wood crashed against wood. In the middle of the storm, the Ghostmaid had crashed into another, much larger ship.

The storm raged on and as everyone on board pulled out their weapons, the crew of the larger ship was still not to be seen. Then, ropes came down over the rail and all of a sudden, bloated corpses with cutlasses between their teeth slid down.

The elves stayed calm. It almost seemed as if they had expected an assault like that, and they faced the attackers with an air of cool determination in the storm. Unlike the soldiers on the island, these undead were mindless raging beings, and soon they were repulsed.

As the last of the Zombies was defeated, their ship sank. Still surprisedabout the calm reaction of the elves, Niklas turned to Khemaitas:"What was that?"

The elf ushered the adventurers into his cabin, where they were safe from the storm outside:"We call them Bloodzombies."

He leaned back in his chair:" There are many dangers that we who sail the blood sea must face. The taint of Khadum has changed many once harmless creatures into horrible monsters, like the pisceans, for instance. Then, there is the unpredictable nature of the weather and many pirates make their home here as well. 

"However, some of the threats here are more subtle, and all the more deadly because of it. Sometimes, you don't have to get into actual contact with the blood of Khadum. It's proximity can be enough.

"There is a sort of a mold which attaches itself to the hulls of ships.This slimy substance, which we call "blood barnacles" can imbue the crew of an infected ship with the spirit of Khadum, instilling a mindless bloodrage. Once the process started, the sailors are doomed, since they will slaughter each other to the last man, woman and child.

"However, it doesn't end then. A while after their demise, they rise again. They are still full of hate and rage, however they concentrate their hatred on everything that lives... These are the bloodzombies. Fortunately, all we have encountered so far are brainless, and since we are used to fighting worse foes, they are not much more than a nuisance for us. And don't worry- once the sea has calmed, some of us will dive under the ship and remove all barnacles, should there be any.".

The rest of the journey was uneventful. The weather calmed down, and once the small damages caused by the Zombies woodwarping abiliy were removed and the hull was cleansed, they rode on a swift breeze homewards.

Back in Mithril, Niklas gave a report to his superiors and introduced himself to Barconius, the legendary leader of the Knights of Mithril. Upon hearing that the warchief Donnangar was in town, Barconius had a short conversation with the orc. It was the first time that the two legendary heroes encountered each other, and in spite of the general goodwill, there were still many differences, and the meeting was held in a polite but cold atmosphere.

There was no time to loose, and so they rode on to the Gravelfist encampment on the day after their arrival in Mithril. There, they were welcomed by Gortak.

Donnangar handed the robe of the archmage to the blind prophet, who was delighted upon hearing about their exploits. Gortak carefully explored the runes on the robe with his fingers, and after a short moment of contemplation he put them on.

He turned to the adventurers:" I can not thank you enough. You have given us something we thought we had lost forever: hope. Now come with me, my friends, for I shall adress the tribe.".

After Gortak had summoned the Orcs and the herbs were boiling in a large cauldron, he raised his voice, and again, his frail body was forgotten and his words were heard everywhere in the encampment:" At last, the cure for the plague has arrived. And not only that. Donnangar and our newfound friends have brought us even more! A future!

"They brought us a grain which will survive here in the plains. No longerwill we be dependant on herding and raiding. We will plant the seeds and harvest in the autumm. This will provide us with food and even more seeds for the next year- and with each year, we shall be more prosperous than before!

"In time, we will be able to build a civilization like our ancestors had, and we shall no longer be denied what the humans have: Cities and Empires! Once we have established a new nation here in the plains, nothing will stand in our way when we take our deserved place among our neighbors!"

There was a loud roar and the orcs clapped their hands and stomped their feet. When the noise had died down, Gortak continued:" None of that would have been possible withuot these members of the divine races here. So, let it be known that from now on, all five of them shall be treated as Orcs of the Gravelfist tribe. They are free to stay with us, and they are protected by our laws. If they are harmed, the one who harmed them shall be treated as an enemy of the tribe."

Again, the orcs roared in agreement, even though the roar wasn't quite as loud this time. There was much backslapping and at the big celebration in the evening, with beer, hurlg, which was a beverage made of fermented animal fat, and meat, the orcs made the heroes feel as members of the group.

For the uprooted heroes, who were either orphans or had lost touch to their homes long ago, it was a beautiful night. Here, among those savages, they had found unlikely friends. And these were friends, who even made them feel like part of a real family. It was a night in which mutual respect finally turned into trust and friendship.

The next morning, messengers were send to the other tribes in order to deliver the cure, while not mentioning the grain, and the heroes went to Mullis Town were they handed the cure over to the king. They received a small reward and since the king made sure that the leaves were put into all the wells, the plague disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Now that everything was said and done, Trepat and Ben returned to the Gravelfists. They had decided to stay with them for the time being, while Jan, Niklas and Torn rode to Mithril. There, the Paladin and the monk joined with their orders and Torn rented an appartment in Shack Street.

The next few months, Trepat and Ben spent with the Gravelfists in their wintercamp, which was just a two days ride from Mithril. Jan served in the ranks of the armed forces of Mithril, and he patrolled the CorradaCorridor or served on guard duty at the fortress or the gate. Niklas stayed in themonastry most of the time, where he trained his mind and his body, and Torn was getting accustomed to the new town and it's opportunities for easy money.

Donnangar rode out to a small hill one morning. There were two bundles strapped to Plainsrunner, his faithful dire wolf. With carefulelaboration, he unwrapped the first package, which was filled with wood. He then build up a small furnace with stones and he used mud to close the holes between. Into this little construction, he put the wood, and lit it. Thenhe added the bones he had found in the pyramid and covered it all with a special powder that made the small fire hot enough to burn the bones to ashes.

Then, he sat down, and when the evening came, and the fire had burnt down, he kicked down the furnace. Immediately, the wind picked up the ashes and dispersed them over the plains. Donnangar waited a little longer, and when the last of the ashes was gone, he rode home.

Charkovar had found his final resting place at last.


_---edited since some errors occured after formatting ---_


----------



## Nightfall

I hope this doesn't mean it's end to their adventures! I'd love to see more of them! But still bravo to the bold heroes of the Gravelfists!


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## Lars Frehse

Hooray for them indeed. 

Nah, this isn't the end, only the end of the first big story-arc. You know, it all started with the heroes losing their homes and families and now they found new homes and a new family. The monumental event in their personal lives is mirrored by the events in the outside world- there is a new place for the heroes and for the orcs as well.

To set this even more apart, some months will pass between this and the next chapter. It will take place in the month of Hedrer, a few weeks after Grim Day. I hope I will be able to post the first part tomorrow.

In any case, the title will be "Shadows of the Slarecians". I hope this is enough of a teaser for now.


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## Nightfall

Sweet! Does this mean we'll get some hints of Penumbral Lords perhaps?


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## Ruined

Very good story so far, Lars. Glad to see some goals accomplished, giving the characters time to advance and grow. Keep it up!


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## Lars Frehse

I am now posting the stats of the PCs in the rogue's gallery. Ben is the first, but the others will follow this weekend:

http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&postid=418162#post418162


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## Lars Frehse

*Shadows of the Slarecians part1*

Winter had come, and even on a cloud free day, there just a few hours of light during the day. Now the friends noticed for the first time just how far north they had travelled: Even the bloodsea was frozen solid, locking the ships in the harbor while snowstorms had blocked all roads out of the city.

It was the month of Hedrer, and Trepat and Ben were stuck in the city, since they had escorted Gortak into it. The prophet had wanted to meet Emili Derigesh, highpriest of Corean and leader of the city, since he recognized the necessity of friendly relations to Mithril. He was especially interested in help- there hadn’t been an Orcish farmer in centuries, so instruction and equipment was needed to make sure that the start of an agrarian society could work.

The talks went unexpectedly good- Derigesh was glad to see his estimation, that the Gravelfists were “orcs with souls” was confirmed, and the two spiritual leaders felt comfortable with each other. Because of that, Gortak wasn’t exactly disappointed about the delayed stay in Mithril.

Meanwhile, Trepat and Ben stayed with Torn, who had recently started to train at the Shadowguild, planning to master the basic arts of a wizard.

One morning, as Niklas was training in the courtyard of his monastry under the shadow of the Mithril Golem, he was approached by Chel Azatan, the owner of “Rare Books”. Niklas stopped his physical exercises which had kept him warm in spite of the freezing air, and as the Calastian bookcollector adressed him, his sweat was evaporating enshrouding him in an inch of mist.

“I am glad to meet you again, Niklas. Something weird has occurred, and I think I need your help”.

“I see”, answered Niklas, “ but maybe we should talk in my room”.

They went to Niklas’s small cell that was furnished with a bed, a stool, a table and a closet, and after Azatan had gotten out of his furs, he sat down on the stool:” A couple of days ago, a strange man who’s features were hidden by the hood of the cloak he was wearing came into my shop. He asked for a strange book which I had never been able to decipher. The letters on it and in it are constantly shifting and moving, making it impossible to read it.”.

Niklas listened up. After all, he had seen letters like that when he and his friends had crossed the Kelder mountains:” Do you think it could be Slarecian?”

“Most likely, yes.”.

“And I assume it is one of the books you don’t want to part with.”, Niklas stated matter-of-factly.

Azatan nodded:” Yes, exactly. I may not be able to read it, but it is definetly one of a kind- in all my years in the business, I have never seen anything quite like it.

“Now, that is what I had told the strange man, as well, but he didn’t seem to care. After a while, however, he left my store, and I thought that that was that.”

“But it wasn’t”, Niklas proposed.

“No, unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of that. Last night, the same man stood next to my bed in my room over the store and woke me up. He held a dagger to my throat and told me to give him the book. I was in panic, but I succeeded in stalling him: I explained that it would take me at least one day to find it, since my bookstore is in such a mess. He accepted that, but told me to deliver it tonight. And then he added, that paper is always in danger of burning…

“That is why I am here. I intend to hand over the book, but maybe you and your friends could follow him and get it back for me? I don’t want to endanger my books and my cats, but I don’t want to simply give it away. Maybe you could help me.”

Niklas thought about the proposal for a while, then he answered:” Yes, I can of course try to help you, but I am not sure whether I will be succesfull. After all, it could be that this man is merely part of an organization. But if that is what you want me to do, I will give it a try. I have to pick up my friends, though.”

They both wrapped themselves into cloaks again and walked outside to face the chill. They went downtown, to the shabbier part of the city, where they went to Torn’s appartment.

There, Niklas introduced Chel Azatan to Trepat, Torn and Ben. Azatan explained his problem to them, and they agreed to help out. The mysterious intruder had told Azatan to hand the book over to him at The Bawdy Wench, one of the more popular taverns in Shacktown, just a few blocks from Torn’s appartment.

In the evening, after they had picked up Jan, who had received permission from his superiors, they went to the Bawdy Wench. The thatch-roofed building stood in a part of Shacktown that was even worse than the street Torn lived in. Jan and Trepat waited in front of the tavern, and Niklas went to the alley behind, where he watched the back-entrance. As Torn and Ben entered the Wench, a wave of heat, generated by several ovens in the drinking-hall hit them like a wall.

The place was crowded, but comparatively clean inspite of it’s cheapness and location. Several customers were sitting at the tables and the bar, eating fishstew and washing it down with Vodka. Since the two friends still had an hour to kill, they ordered food and drink and settled down.

After a while, Azaton came in. He went to the back of the tavern, ignoring the two heroes and when he saw a hooded figure, he sat down next to it. He handed over a small package, and after the receiver had looked into it, he nodded and left through the back entrance.

Torn and and Ben got up to follow him, but as they neared the back entrance, three burly humans blocked the way. The biggest one of them filled the whole doorway with his massive body and said:” Sorry, folks, but this way is off limits for you.”.

“Ah, come on”, Torn answered,” I gotta whizz!”

“Then you gotta do it in front of the Wench like everyone else.”

Seeing that starting a brawl might take more time than simply leaving throught the front exit and going around the building, they turned around and headed to the exit, where they could pick up Jan and Trepat as well.

Meanwhile, Niklas, who was standing in a doorway, hugging himself and stepping from one foot to the other in order to keep warm, saw the backdoor being opened. A hooded humanoid who was hugging a small package came out of it and swiftly walked past through the alley.

As the monk wanted to follow, a dwarf came out of a neighboring doorway. He placed himself in front of Niklas, with his arms crossed in front of him: “Hey, ugly, where do ya think ya’re goin’?”


----------



## Nightfall

Mmm sounds like adventure comes for our boys again! I hope they have enough mental fortitude to withstand any Slacerian foes!


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## Snoweel

You rock Lars!

So, is Niklas gonna flip over the dwarf, ninja-style or slap that b*tch down?


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## Lars Frehse

Glad to see you back, Snoweel. The answer to your question will come right now, in the next post. (I wanted to post it earlier, but couldn't...)


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Shadow of the Slarecians, Part 2*

“None of your business, now let me pass.”.

The dwarf sneered:” You know, I don’t like your face. So I am making this my business”.

Suddenly, the dwarf threw a punch at Niklas, but the monk’s training kicked in and he moved his body out of the way, and all the attacker hit was thin air. Niklas hit back, using the palm of his hand to knock out the air out of the dwarf’s lung, but the sturdy humanoid was tough- usually a punch like that would have stunned any opponent, but the dwarf merely sneered and punched him into the stomach.

Noticing the commotion, the hooded humanoid started to run down the snow covered alley, and Niklas, intending to keep up with him, tumbled past the dwarf, who had pulled out a dagger by now.

Niklas ran after the man with the dwarf in hot pursuit, but as the cloaked man reached an intersection, he feinted to run left just to jump right as Niklas eyes were still looking where he expected the man to be and not where he actually was.

The short diversion was enough for him to hide in the shadows somewhere in the dark alley, and before Niklas had a chance to check out the several doorways and side alleys, the dwarf had kept up with him.

He was panting heavily, and charged Niklas with his dagger. Turning around, the monk didn’t sidestep fast enough and was cut into the arm. Seeing that there was no point in running on, Niklas faced the attacker and covered him with a flurry of blows. Without getting injured any further, he beat the dwarf unconcious and hoping that his friends were at the Wench, he slung the bully over his shoulder and went back to the Tavern.

The others had already made it to the back entrance, and after Niklas had told them what had happened, they went to the junction were Niklas had last seen the hooded man. It had been a day since it had snowed the last time and there many feet had stomped it solid. However, Torn managed to find tracks which were fresher than any of the others.

They followed the tracks, which ended in front of a small house. Assuming that their target had resumed his flight on the roof, Niklas and Torn climbed up where they indeed found footprints in the snow.

Guiding their friends from the rooftops, the monk and the rogue followed the tracks. From time to time, they had to jump over small alleys, and once Torn slipped and fell down, but since the ground was covered with snow and he was able to lessen the impact by rolling with the fall, he didn’t hurt himself and continued the chase.

Eventually,  with their friends far behind by now, they reached a part of Shacktown where some buildings had collapsed into the ground. Apparently, the ground under the houses hadn’t been solid enough and it had fallen into a crater. The ruins had been stripped of all materials that could be used to build new houses in the chaotic mass of shacktown, and all that was left was a circular, rubble filled ditch with a radius of about thirty feet.

This is where the tracks lead. They climbed down into it, and saw that the tracks lead into a small opening and beyond it, a corridor.

Under Mithril, there was a net of catacombs. Years ago, they had been used as a burial ground for the dead. However, the Penumbral Pentagon, a sinister organization of shadowmages, had used it as their base from where they were plotting the downfall of Mithril. They were eventually stopped by the then young Paladin Barconius, but the known entrances to the catacombs were sealed of as a matter of precaution.

But here, in the middle of a district where hardly a Paladin was ever seen, they had discovered a new entrance to the catacombs, and it was clear that they would have to go into it. After a short exchange, they decided that Torn would carefully scout ahead- his orcish darkvision gave him a valuable advantage here, while Niklas would run back and lead their fellows to the entrance.

Once he was past the rubble in the entrance, Torn saw that the catacombs were mostly intact here. He could only hope that the builders over the parts he would come through were more thorough then the ones who had caused the collapse.

The catacombs were a real maze. Fortunately, there was merely one set of tracks- it didn’t look like there were many people down here. And since there were occasional puddles of water, following the wet tracks on the dry parts was easy.

Eventually, Torn reached a thirty feet chasm. Twenty feet below, there was a sluggish mass slowly drifting by, and by the foul smell of it, the halforc could easily guess what that mass was. The chasm was bridged by a long plank of wood, and there was a corridor on the other side.

Carefully, Torn tested the plank with his foot, and seeing that it could carry his weight, he walked onto it. Then, as he was about in the middle of it, he felt a sensation of vertigo. Everything was spinning around him and he felt sick, but he willed himself to keep on standing upright. He was just about to feel better again, as a hooded figure stepped out of the shadow at the other side of the chasm and kicked at the board.

Immediately, the board fell into the chasm, and Torn fell into an ice cold mixture of feces, urine and water. He completely submerged in the sewage, and when he resurfaced, he couldn’t say whether the stink or the cold was worse.

He swam to the wall and climbed out of the chasm, pulling the weight of his wet clothes with him. Then he stood in the corridor again, dripping and stinking. He turned around, but there was no sign of the hooded man anymore.


----------



## Snoweel

> Originally posted by der Fledermaus:*Torn fell into an ice cold mixture of feces, urine and water. He completely submerged in the sewage, and when he resurfaced, he couldn’t say whether the stink or the cold was worse.*




Dude! 

Tell me he made his fort. save?


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Shadow of the Slarecians- part 3 of 4*

There was nothing left to do but return to the entrance where his friends had arrived by now. He was shivering badly in the cold, but Trepat used  magic to clean and dry him. They put the tied up and unconcious dwarf into the entrance where they wrapped him up with his coat. Then, they entered the catacombs.

They reached the chasm unchecked, and after some looking, they found metal rods sticking out of the stone on both sides, which may have been used as a foundataion for a small bridge before. Using Lassos, they crossed the gap, and entered the corridor on the other side.

After a while, the corridor’s ceiling sloped down to five feet high and a cold breeze blew out from the cramped passage ahead. Moving into the corridor, they noticed that there seemed to be an unnatural darkness ahead, swallowing the light of their lantern, and then the breeze blew out the light itself.

Now, they were stuck in darkness, and even Torn wasn’t able to penetrate the blackness ahead. Suddenly, a bolt flew out of the darkness towards them, and hit Jan in the shoulder. Without waiting any longer, Torn charged into the darkness, expecting the attacker to be hiding in there.

However, after he had just taken a few step into the darkness, he fell for the third time that day- suddenly, there was no ground under his feet anymore and he stumbled into water. As he resurfaced and pulled himself back onto the stonefloor, Trepat and Niklas went down to their knees and carefully crawled into the magical darkness.

Meanwhile, every few seconds, another crossbowbolt flew through the corridor, endangering the friends. Since they made too good targets and the corridor ahead was crowded now anyway, Ben and Jan retreated to the beginning of the corridor, where they relit their lantern, listening for any signs that indicated that their help was needed.

Torn carefully groped for the wall to his left, and as he heard the sound of a bolt missing his face by just a quarter of an inch, he felt that the wall was as rough as the ones he had walked past before. Carefully, he raised himself to a halferect position- the ceiling was too low for him to fully stand up here.

The wall offered enough footholds for him to climb along it, and after he tenderly put his foot down after twenty feet to see whether he was still over water, he felt the solid ground again. All the time, at the rate of one man shooting a crossbow, bolts flew through the darkness, sometimes hitting one of the friends.

Torn stumbled along the corridor, and all of a sudden, there was light again. He could now see the corridor’s roof rising up again, and behind a small, three foot tall wall stood a slender humanoid with a crossbow in his hand. The man was tall and thin, and he had long, pointed ears and almond shaped eyes. He reminded Torn of one of the henchmen of the piratewoman they had encountered offshore Thalien. This humanoid seemed to belong to the same species.

There was no time for musings at the moment: Torn jumped over the wall, striking at the humanoid with his spiked chain. As the humanoid pulled out his rapier and Trepat and Niklas, who had taken the same way as Torn, emerged out of the darkness, something strange happened. Instead of attacking, the man jerked his head in direction of the floor, as if he wanted Torn to take a look at something. His eyes were pleading for mercy and help, and so Torn took the risk, and as he looked down, he saw something he hadn’t seen in months: the shadow of the man didn’t look like his shadow at all. The shadow had a long neck, and on his top there was a long head with a ribbed forehead. It was a Slarecian shadow.

Torn nodded, and as Niklas and Trepat moved over the wall as well, he shouted: “SLARECIAN SHADOW!”, and lit up a sunrod. His friends understood right away and did the same.

Suddenly, the eyes of the man lit up as he realized what his attackers planned, and he too pulled out a sunrod from his coat, but before he could light it, something happened: He screamed out in pain, and sank down on his knees, holding his head in his hands.

They fought the shadow with their sunrod, the way they did in the Kelders, and again, they suceeded in burning away parts of his darkness. After a while, the humanoid got back on his feet, and even though he seemed weakened and confused, he helped the friends.

Eventually, the shadow fled down the corridor the friends had come from. Remembering that his brother and Ben were still back there, Niklas shouted them a warning, and Jan lit up a sunrod while Ben held his lantern ready. 

Then, suddenly, the shadow slid over the floor of the corridor towards them. Ben and Jan tried to hit him with their rays of light, and the Paladin envoked his holy power to smite evil along with it, “burning” away another part of the shadow.

The shadow slid over them, and as it did, it shortly lingered on Jan. Immediately, the Paladin felt how his strength got drained from him, and while the shadow fled over the chasm Jan was left behind, barely able to support his own way.

It turned out that there was a little walkway over the waterpit that could be lowered with a lever. Ben and Jan, who was supporting himself by resting his right hand on the halfling’s left shoulder joined up with their friends, who were by now interrogating the humanoid.

His name was Shyle Dow, and he belonged to a species called Vertigen. They were the last race of titanspawn created by Mesos, and their creator had granted them the gifts of fluid grace and agility. They were also able to induce vertigo in others- as Torn had noticed when he crossed the beam over the chasm. Before Mesos could tell his creation what their reason of living was however, he was destroyed by Corean and other gods. Ever since, they lived mostly as thieves and assassins, using their abilities to survive by all means possible.

While Shyle was able to tell the history of his people with ease, he had problems when it came to his reasons of aquiring the book. He turned to Niklas, scratching his head:” Did I steal it from you?”

“No, but if you give it to me, I will return it to it’s rightful owner.”.

“Good. You see, I can hardly remember anything about the last days… There was this pain in my head when I lit that rod… The shadow…”

He lead them into his hideaway behind a door in the corridor, where he told them what he remembered. It seemed that many of his memories were destroyed when he attacked the Slarecian Shadow.

“I had this shadow for quite some time, I think… For some time, it was simply there, but then, it made me do things… After a while, I knew what it wanted and then… I don’t know… But I remember it wanted me to get this book. And I remember that when I didn’t do what it wanted, I felt weak, and it took me days to recover.”

He opened a chest from which he took the book. He handed it to Torn and continued:” It seems like I did get it… Fortunately I got rid of it and the shadow now.”

Niklas said:” Looks like it is not your fault you attacked us… But do you remember hiring a dwarf?”

“Oh, yes, there is Graff, a guy with whom I work from time to time!”.

Niklas told him that he was laying outside in the corridors, and Shyle came with them to pick up his friend.


----------



## Nightfall

Slacerian Shadow AND Vertigen!  Two favs!


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Shadow of the Slarecians part 4 of 4*

As they went back to the entrance, Jan checked Shyle Dow's aura again, and he found no evil in it. The Vertigen liberated the dwarf, who was shivering and had regained his conciousness, and after he had grudgingly congratulated Niklas on his combat prowess, the friends decided to let them both go. After all, they had regained the book, and there was no real harm done. 

The dwarf and the Vertigen returned into the depths of the catacombs, and the heroes crawled out into the darkness. Back under the nightsky, everything in the crater was covered with snow and bathed in the pale light of Belsameth's moon. Trepat turned around to take one last look at the entrance, and as he glanced past Torn, he saw that the long shadow the half orc was casting did not look as massive as it should. The elf stopped dead in his tracks, and as he pointed to the shadow and lit his sunrod, no words were needed anymore. 

They surrounded Torn's thrashing shadow and fought it with light. It fought back, and each time it hit one of the heroes, the victim felt weaker. It stayed attached to Torn, and after it had hit the already weakened Jan, the Paladin crashed to the ground, and he needed all his strength just to keep on breathing. 

After a while, only Niklas and Torn were left standing. Their friends were too weakened, and they had retreated, fearing that one more hit might suck the last strength of life out of them. One of the arms of the shadow lengthened in order to touch Niklas, but the monk had learned to rely on his reflexes instead of armor for protection, and he easily avoided the arm. This gave Torn the opening to hold his sunrod into the centre of the shadow, which at last dissipated, leaving nothing behind but the mundane shadows cast by Belsameth's moon. 

Now that everything was sad and done, the friends helped Jan getting back to temple city, where he had to report to his superiors. There, the priests cast lesser restoration on them to help them regain their strength in time. 

On the next morning, they returned the book to Azatan. The Calastian welcomed them in his store among his books and cats, and hewas eager to listen to their story. As a reward, he procured a small chest with two scrolls and a wand that could cure wounds. 

There may have been more Slarecian shadows or other spawn of that mysterious race in Mithril, but for now, the friends were just happy that they had survived it all unscathed. However, they told Azatan that keeping the book would probably only spell trouble for him in the future. With a heavy heart, the merchant decided to get rid of it. 

"But at least, it wasn't stolen", he told them and let the friends know that if they were looking for any information in the future, they should get in touch with him. 

One week after that, Torn had his exam at the guild of shadow, the local guild of wizards, and on the same evening, he was allowed to call himself "apprentice wizard". And a few days after that, they all received invitations to the new-years ball that was to be held at the estate of Barconius.


----------



## Nightfall

Party time!


----------



## sparhawk

*Great Story Hour*

Great story LARS keep it coming.


----------



## Ancalagon

hey, nice story as always lars!

I hope the group is going to report this entrance to the catacombs to the proper authorities.

Ancalagon


----------



## Lars Frehse

Thank you guys. 

Anc, yes, Jan reported it when he went back to temple city, so that will be taken care off.

The next story will be partially based on a plot idea from the Mithril sourcebook called "Dance of the Dark Lord". However, I don't think any spoilers are necessary. I took some of the ideas presented there and modified them until a new story developed.

So, without much further ado, here comes the first part of "A different kind of shade".


----------



## Lars Frehse

*A different kind of shade. Part 1*

On the first morning of the year 151 After Victory, Trepat woke up with a bad hangover. Slowly opening his eyes, he looked at an alabaster ceiling. He slowly, painfully moved his head to see the covers his hands were laying on: Black Velvet. By and by, memories of the night before came back and as he turned his head to the left, his suspicions were confirmed. He hadn't spent the night alone...

Next to him slept a beautiful human woman in her mid-twenties with black hair and pale skin. She was facing towards Trepat and he full lips were half opened, showing teeth that were as shining and perfect as pearls.

He pushed himself up on his elbows. Looking around, Trepat saw that his hostess seemed to be wealthy- the furniture was made from exotic woods and the floor and the walls were covered with precious carpets. There were cupboards full of what appeared to be priceless tomes and the blue sky that was visible through the window indicated that the room  was somewhere above the houses of the city.

He layed back again, and after a while he suceeded in remembering the name of the woman he had spent the night witt: Danye. Furrowing his eyebrows, Trepat was now able to recapulate what had happened the night before.

Except for Jan, who had been assigned for duty on Sky Tower, a defensive citadel on the west harbor, they had all had all gone to the DeBronis estate in Temple City. The new years ball at the mansion of Barconius’ family was the central event of Mithril’s society, and everyone who had made a name of him or herself had come. There were church leaders, mundane members of the Shining council, distinguished Paladins, succesful merchants, famous artists and many more of those that constituted Mithril’s “High Society”.

The heroes had been invited because Barconius and Emili Derigesh were sure that their aid to the Gravelfists had prevented an all out war. Except for them, hardly any other newcomers to the city were invited, and even those were usually nobles or members of important organizations.

Trepat remembered that Ben had befriended the only other halflings on the ball, a middle aged couple called Lutz and Maria Fahlfuss. They were vodka manufacturers, and from how they drank that evening, the elf gathered that they were their best customers.

Torn had befriended Baron Yurik Vogas, a nobleman from Albadia while Niklas had spent most of the evening along. He had never refined his ways and was at a loss at an occasion like this one.

Among the guests were some members of the Asuras family. The luckless Viando Asuras shot an angry look at the heroes, but once Niklas had stared back, the weak man turned away. Telinya Asuras, his sister, even thanked those adventurers she encountered. She claimed that she and her family were of course glad that careless activities like those her brother had allowed in Mullis Town were against the honorable policies of the house Asuras. She ensured Niklas, that the house Asuras would never consider a profit to be more important then the lives of innocent, like those her brother had endangered by not reporting the deadly fungus in the mines.

Even Khelarian Asuras, the local elder of the house, congratulated them, telling them that they were still waiting for a decision from his father regarding the punishment of Viando. And then, he ensured them that his house was grateful and that it never forgot those who had been of help to them.

At midnight, there was a ceremony to welcome the new year, and after that, the whole ball was more relaxed. The dances were less formal then before and it had gotten easier to mingle. Trepat had wanted to introduce himself to the leader of the shadowguild, Danye Blackburn. He walked up to her, and after they had exchanged some words, dismissed the crowd of men that had surrounded her all night to leave. When they were alone, she took him home with her.

Danye Blackburn took him to her “official” appartment on top of the guild of shadows. There, Trepat saw that she had the body of a human in her midtwenties. He knew that it was very unlikely that she was really that young- after all she was an archmage, from what he knew quite possibly the most powerful mage of Mithril, but since he too was over a hundred years old, he didn’t let that stop him.

Now, on the next morning, Danye woke up slowly. She greeted him with a peck on the cheek and then, with a flick of her hand, a little table with tea and fruits appeared next to the bed. When they were done with breakfast, she told Trepat that she had important things to do: ”And surely you understand that I’d rather take care of them alone. Don’t you, dear?”

Trepat nodded. He had expected no less. He got dressed and went to Torn’s appartment where he picked up his friends. The Gravelfist tribe had invited them to a new year’s ceremony too. It would take place in four days, and so they had decided to get going on new year’s day in spite of the hangover. After all, there was hardly anything better to clear the head then fresh air.

As they rode out into the snow covered plains, Niklas, who had refrained from drinking alcohol, was the only one in a cheery mood. The others were still recovering from last night, and especially Ben was going through a hard time. Maria and Lutz Fahlfuss had encouraged him to drink vodka with them all through the night and since he was lacking their training, he was now paying for it.

Fortunately, the day went by without anything happening, and after a good night’s sleep in their tents, they all felt revitalized on the next morning. They rode on for a little while, as they saw two wagons standing in the middle of the road. There were corpses laying on the ground and on top of the wagons, and two mules were standing shivering in the snow.

There had been an ambush here.


----------



## sparhawk

*Guild*

So did Trepat get accepted into the Guild or was he having to much fun to remeber to ask?


----------



## Lars Frehse

Sparhawk- ooops, I seem to get sloppier and sloppier in my narration...  

Actually, he had signed up when he first stayed in Mithril for a while. It is mandatory for any arcane spellcaster in Mithril to register with the shadow guild. At that time, however, he had naturally merely encountered some low level clerks.

Given her taste for young gentlemen, and his charisma score of 19, they were bound to have a good time together, though.   (In spite of her assumption that sorcerors aren't "proper" spellcasters).


----------



## Lars Frehse

*A different kind of shade- part 2*

The friends rushed forward to see whether there were any survivors who needed immediate attention. However, as they got to the ambush site, they soon saw that all the men, guards and drivers alike, were all dead. 

There were six corpses alltogether. Four guards clad in chainmail and two cartdrivers. Some of the bodies,  the carts and the snowfree ground, were scorched. Two of the guards had crossbow bolts sticking out of them and they had other wounds which had been caused by slashing weapons. One of the drivers and one guard, however, bore no obvious wounds. They were neither scorched nor wounded by bolt or sword but their skin was stretched taut over their skulls and their whole bodies looked as if all life had been sucked out of them.

Trepat looked around:"I am quite certain that the magic that blasted away the snow and scorched the humans and the wagons was an arcane spell called "Fireball". Apparently, it only killed two of those six right away. However, I don't know any particular magic that sucks the life out of a victim like it has happened with those two."

Torn and Niklas checked the carts, and it turned out that they had been searched. bundles of woolen cloth and rolled up carpets had been tossed aside. Apparently, the attackers had been loooking for something specific.

"I think it is odd that so much power was used to raid such an insignicant and small caravan. I wonder what they had been searching for.", Torn said.

Meanwhile, single snowflakes started to fall from the grey sky. Looking up, Ben said:" We should try to find some tracks before the snow covers them up. We can leave the mules behind. They should be able to find enough grass where the fireball had melted the snow and they look sturdy enough to cope with the cold."

They looked around and soon they found tracks. Whoever had ambushed the caravan seemed to have relied on the weather to cover the tracks. Judging by the falling snow, the friends estimated that the tracks would have been filled with snow in two more hours. And given the time of the year and the little traffic on the corridor before spring thaw, there really hadn't been much of a likelihood of anyone finding tracks of the ambushers.

There were tracks of at least eight individuals. Three of the tracks were made by human sized boots, but  the rest of them were longer and thinner than human tracks. Indeed, they looked like they were made by bipedal, humansized rats. There was no doubt, the tracks were made by Trepat's chosen enemy: Slitheren.

The tracks lead to the north, away from the corridor, and after deciding that informing the Paladins of Mithril would take too long, they followed the tracks themselves. Again, the heroes had accepted that fate seemed to be frequently throwing them into dangerous adventures ever since they had left Durrover.

The snow in the plains was packed enough to carry them and their steeds without problems. As they rode through the snow, the snowfall got stronger, cutting down visibility to a few dozen yards. After a while, they were forced to dismount in order to follow the disappearing tracks.

Then, just fifty yards ahead of them, they could make out the shape of a structure in the snow. Whispering, they decided that Torn would scout ahead while the others would wait behind.

The halforc pushed forward through the driving snow until he reached a stone wall. The stonework looked old and cracked and the wall seemed to be about 10 feet high. Left and right, behind  the far ends of the wall, he saw two wooden towers behind and the wall, and on the right one, he was able to make out a humanoid figure. The towers were simple structures. Each side consisted of two straight and two crossed beams, which were supporting one platform. On the platform was a rail and the whole thing was covered by a small roof.

Torn moved along the wall while the humanoid seemed to remain unaware of him. Getting close, Torn was finally able to make out the shape on the tower. It wasn't human but it looked like the animate skeleton of a Slitheren. It was holding a crossbow in it's bonehands and seemed to try to pierce the curtain of snow with it's empty sockets.

Registering it, but staying calm, Torn looked around the corner, where the wall continued. In a gap in the wall, there was a makeshift gate, and it appeared that the towers and the gate were much newer than the original walls. Carefully making sure that he wasn't seen by the skeleton, he returned to his friends.

A short heated debate ensued regarding how they would proceed. Torn wanted to try and take out the skeleton on the watchtower before he opened the gate, while Ben argued that the undead would probably be warned no matter what, and so he favored a full frontal attack.

In the end, they decided to let Torn give it a try while they hid close to the makeshift gate. Cowering behind a pile of snow, they could make out the shape of their friend climbing over the wall, where he disappeared from their sight. Then, they saw him again climbing up the wooden tower. With the grace of a feline predator, he slid onto the platform, where the skeleton faced the other way, and he shot his spiked chain at it. However, he slipped in the snow and missed his target.

The skeleton turned around, but before it could react, Torn slashed at it with the other end of his chain. This time he hit, and his defeated opponent fell into the snow below. Torn jumped down and opened the gate for his friends, and as his friends entered, he whispered to them:" Those aren't skeletons. They do have some sort of flesh and blood. However, all that is transparent as glass. Wouldn't it be for their bones, they would be virtually invisible.".


----------



## Nightfall

*chuckles*  Yes Dayne as bit of a snob, but she's not that terrible. Nablia on the other hand ROCKS!


----------



## Lars Frehse

They have only encountered Dayne yet... 

And now for something completely different: a little announcement.

_Lars clears his throat_: I have uploaded the text file of my story hour to Morrus' server today, and you can download it at: http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/news...e=Downloads&file=index&req=viewdownload&cid=4

All in all, it is 120 pages long by now, and growing!


----------



## Nightfall

Cool!  Good for you Lars!


----------



## Lars Frehse

I noticed that there is a typo in my Story Hour's description...  

Oh, well, next time I do an update, I will correct that mistake. Or maybe Morrus will have mercy on me...

Anyway, here is another small update. I will post a bigger one, ending that chapter, tomorrow.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*A different kind of shade, part 3 of 4*

However, there wasn’t much time to wonder about slitheren with invisible flesh right now. There was an open stable and a two-story house made from wood. In front of the house, there were three tents which seemed to have been abandoned a while ago, since the snow and the wind had tilted them to a side. Through the windows of the house, warm light was streaming out into the darkened day.

As the wind picked up, howling through the gaps of the ancient walls, they walked to the windows, and Niklas and Torn peeked inside. It was one large room with doors to the left and right. There was a fire place burning on the far side in front of which there were three make-shift beds.

There was more furniture in the room, and close to the fireplace were two humans and three slitheren skeleton. It appeared as if the five were engaged in idle conversation, and from what could be gathered by a short glimpse, it even looked as if the humans were treating the skeletons as their equals.

The friends gathered in front of the front door. Torn counted to three and after he had kicked in the door, they all charged into the room. While the attacked ones were still stumbling to get up from the chair, Torn already shot his spiked chain at one of them, while Ben used the effects of a spell he had cast before entering. His tongue was now several yards long, and he slung it around one of the humans, making him look like an oversized toad that had captured a bug which was too big for it's mouth.


Charging into the room, the heroes soon gained the upper hand. Niklas tumbled into the room and knocked out the human, while he was attempting to cast an arcane spell, while Ben and Torn held the Slitheren and the other human in check. Two of the skeletons seemed to have been trained as battle-monks, and like Niklas they were fighting with only their bare hands and feet.

After Trepat had used his arcane power for the day, the remaining rat-skeleton, who was wielding a scimitar was pushing him outside of the door, and the two fought on in the snow. Meanwhile, all the enemies except for one of the monks were defeated, as the door at the wall to the left of the entrance opened.

A man dressed in dark robes stood there, and two insubstantial humanoid forms stepped ahead. They looked like shadows, but unlike the Slarecian shadows, these ones were truly three-dimensional, and they stood there without being cast to a wall or the floor.

The Shadows took up a defensive stance in front of the dark robed man, who gestured towards Niklas. At his command, a spectral hand moved forwards and touched the surprised monk. Now Niklas felt a part of his life force sucked out of him, and looking at the spellcaster he noticed how he seemed to “drink” the essence of life that he had robbed from the monk.

This must have been the magic that killed the guards of the caravan without leaving any wounds.


----------



## Nightfall

Shadows and White Wraiths! Nice combo!


----------



## Lars Frehse

*A different kind of shade, part 4of4*

Torn slashed at one of the shadows with his spiked chain, but the weapon passed through, as if the creature wasn't there at all. Then Ben, who had summoned a flameblade before, attacked the same shadow, and this time the humanoid shape shrieked in pain.

Meanwhile, as Trepat kept on battling his opponent out in the snow, the necromancer guided his spectral hand, threatening the remaining three heroes inside. Niklas commenced fighting the remaining Slitheren. They both used the terrain for the advantage, jumping on chairs and tables, as they pummeled and kicked each other, but the human was slightly quicker and because he was calmer and more focused, he eventually defeated their last opponent in the room.

Torn dropped the chain, seeing his only chance in his magical mace. In order to get to the necromancer, who was standing behind the doorway, they had to defeat the shadows. But this turned out to be harder than it looked. Even though Torn's mace had been enchanted, it still wasn't guaranteed to hurt the undead. Ben was making better progress, however after he got hit, he felt his strength getting drained from his body, and he had trouble supporting his own weight.

As Torn fought on, his shield spell kept the shadows at bay, but since he had cast it when he had stormed the house, and since it was destined to expire after just one minute after having been cast, he was in a sticky situation. His shield flickered and disappeared, and the two shadows moved to flank him as the necromancer bellowed a triumphant laughter.

By now, however, Ben had engulfed Niklas's fists with magical energy. The halfling went outside to help his elven friend as the monk jumped forward and hit a shadow square in the centre. There was an unearthly scream and the shadow lost it's substance.

At last, there was an opening. Dodging the spectral hand, Niklas jumped into the breach and delivered a stunning attack against the mage. Torn, who had been hit by a shadow too, but still retained some of his enormous strength, bashed away at the remaning shadow.

Outside, Trepat had managed to defeat the skeleton, just as a new one turned around the corner. Ben came out to aid, but they were both weakened by now and their opponent was still unscathed. He shot his crossbow at the Elf, missing him by an inch, and then as he dropped it to pull out his scimitar, he charged at them.

As the halfling and the elf fought desperately outside, the necromancer inside recovered. But before he could complete his spell, his concentration slipped and the monk covered him with a flurry of blows. Staggering and at his wit's end, he guided his spectral hand to attack Niklas one last time, but he missed and collapsed. After all the damage he had received, the strain had been too much at last.

At the same time, Niklas and Trepat had defeated the remaining ratman and Torn was done with the shadow. Ben came in and after making sure that the necromancer would live, he took care of his injured friends. Even though he was able to cure the wounds, it was beyond his powers for the moment to give himself or them their lost strength back. However, he was able to assure them that they would regain their full power eventually.

After making sure that all enemies were defeated, the adventurers searched the house. There were some simple sleeping rooms, and one room that was fully furnished. In there, they found a chest with several golden statues depicting Corean and his steed, and a holy symbol crafted from ebony and studded with diamonds.

Even though these objects weren't magical, they must have been worth a fortune. The materials used were already priceless, and the craftmanship was excellent. After searching a bit more, they discovered a secret compartment with a small note:

"Expect small two carriage caravan around sunset today. Hidden among cloth you will find sacral art dedicated to Corean. As usual, leave no witnesses. D."

The message was signed with a magical rune. Trepat cast a spell and after a short moment, he uttered the name that belonged to that rune:" Dar' Tan".

None of them said anything for a while. Everyone had heard the name before, but all they knew were rumors. Dar' Tan was a dark elf, a race that was rumored to be extinct except for him, and he had once lead an organization called the Penumbral Pentagon that had wanted to destroy Mithril. He had been stopped by Barconius, but escaped. Noone knew much about the motivations of that organization. Some said that they were ultimately using their shadow magic to end all life while others believed that they were continuing the dark machinations of the Slarecians.

Whatever the implications were, they had to get in touch with the authorities. Searching the rest of the house, they found carrier pigeons, which they took with them. They disposed of the bodies, once again puzzled about the slitheren with invisible flesh and waited in the main room until the darkness of the night was disposed by the grey light of yet another winter day. Then, they took their findings, their still unconcious hostage and the pigeons and rode back to Mithril.

It looked as if they would miss out on the Gravelfists' new years celebration.

They reached Mithril in the evening and went directly to Barconius. Upon hearing that hisarch enemy was active again, he smashed his fist down at his desk:" I knew it. I will have that rune checked. Unless this is a fake, this means we have definite proof that Dar' Tan is still as alive and as active as he ever had been before!"

"You see, at the ball, Khelarian Asuras took me and Emili Derigesh into one of the side rooms. There, under six eyes he told us that his house wanted to make a gift to the city of Mithril. I think he is still worried that we will kick them out after the incident at Mullis Town. Anyway, he told us that several icons will be brought in a small two carriage caravan, hidden among more mundane articles."

He then took care of the Necromancer, but all the captive said was that Dar' Tan will take revenge eventually. Barconius had him taken to the dungeon and after a while both Emili Derigesh and Khelarian Asuras arrived in spite of the late hour.

Khelarian was certain that noone in the organization could have possibly been the leak of information, since he himself had received the news about the gift from his grandfather on the day of the ball. He wasn't willing to say just how he had received the information, but he assured them that it had been direct, and there were no middlesmen involved.

Likewise, neither Barconius nor Emili Derigesh had told anyone about the pieces of sacral art just yet. So, the only way anybody could have possibly found out about the valuable freight was at the ball itself. After all, the writer of the message even knew the exact time when the small caravan would be close to the raider's camp. Even if the informer would have hailed from Mullis Town, he wouldn't have been able to give such a precise estimation of time.

Since they were already involved, Ben decided to talk to the pigeons on the next day. Maybe they would be able to tell them where in Mithril they had their home. Likewise they would check Barconius' manor and the room where Asuras had told them about the gift.

But for now, a well deserved night of rest was waiting for the heroes. The way things looked, there would be more than enough to do on the next day.


----------



## Nightfall

No kidding there would be a lot to do tomorrow. House Asuras in bed with the Prince of Shadow?! They're lucky that Barconius himself doesn't rip Khelarian head off, and then proceed to do the same to Dar'Tan...if he can find him. 

Good stuff Lars!


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## Lars Frehse

Thank you.

Oh, since it was House Asuras's caravan that had been raided they are safe. For once, they can even look good: They wanted to make a gift to the leaders of Mithril and became victims. But of course, the common interest of all is what their trading house really cares about. 

I probably wasn't clear enough (comes from only telling parts of what occured). House Asuras sent the two carriage caravan with the icons, in order to distract raiders. They had decided that it was a good time to maintain Mithril's good will by making a pious donation. The icons were purchased at some point during the divine war, and there is nothing illegal involved on their part.

Alas, by some means, the raiders, possible Dar Tan himself, had found out about it. Maybe he wanted to cause frictions between the house and the city. Maybe the reason was a different one.


----------



## Nightfall

Ah, sorry then Lars. I guess I misunderstood. In any case, it's still pretty devious of Dar'Tan to pull something like that.


----------



## Lars Frehse

Before I go on, I have to say something that is pretty embarassing for me.

When I had spoken of doves earlier, I meant carrier pigeons. I will go and edit it now, and I just wanted to let you guys know. To my defense, I can say, that in German, both pigeons and doves are "Tauben", so I simply used the wrong word because we make no difference in German.

Sorry about that, it must have been confusing. I will post the next update now and edit the previous text.


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## Lars Frehse

*Shadows of Mithril, part 1*

The sky was clear and the sun was shining, as the heroes rose to another busy day. For the first time, a hint of spring was in the air, and the snow in the streets and on the roofs started to melt.

Ben talked to the carrier pigeons they had brought with them, and one of them told him about her home in the city of Mithril. She lived in a tower with other pigeons, and every now and then, a halfling who was as nice as the incarnate came to visit her and the other ones.

“If I let you free, could you fly slowly back, so that we can follow you?”, Ben asked.

The pigeon answered:” Yes, you are a nice man, and I would be glad if you would visit. Just let me go, and I will slowly fly over the roofs back home”.

Except for Torn, who expected to be faster on foot, the friends mounted their steeds, and Ben freed the pigeon. It flew up and eastwards, but even though it was flying slowly, they had to dash through the streets to keep up with it. It turned out that it’s idea of “slow movement” was still pretty fast, and since it was able to fly in a straight line, while the friends had to crisscross through the sidestreets and the alleyways, they had to spur their horses to keep up.

By now, the streets of Mithril were rather busy, and on more then one occasion, they had to jump over the cart of a horrified merchant, or shout at pedestrians to keep out of their way. However, they never lost the pigeon.

Eventually, they arrived at the Caravansery. It was placed close to the West Gate, which was the major departure point for Caravans bound for Mullis town, and it was a sprawling complex full of stables, small stands for food and drink, dormitories, storing spaces and much more. From what they had seen, the pigeon had headed for a wooden tower in it’s middle.

There was a lot of activity there. A big caravan was preparing to leave, and there were teamsters directing their animals through the mud, and shouting at each others, while merchants checked the wagons one last time and mercenaries were trying to get one last drink before leaving.

Ben sat down at one of the stools at one of the small roofed stands where mulled wine was sold, and he turned to the mercanaries sitting to his left. To his surprise, it was Old Toby from Mullis Town, and next to him was Kalle, Toby’s friend who had directed the heroes to him when they had first investigated the plague.

Ben was surprised:”Hey, what a surprise!”

The halforc recognized Ben right away, and his leathery face was beaming:” Ah, it’s you! I am glad to meet you! I always felt I never thanked you enough for what you did for me!”

“Never mind that. What brings you here.”

Old Toby took a deep gulp from his tankard:” You see, when you had me cured, I still faced the problem of my kids being ill. You may remember that you had given Kalle some money when you had asked where to find one of the first plague-victims, well, me, ya know.”

Now the halforc looked around, and after seeing that they were alone at the moment, he continued with a lowered voice:” Kalle needed the money, since he was already infected. So, he got himself an axe and a leather armor and went out to get the money, no matter what, if ya know what I mean.”

Old Toby waited for a moment, and seeing that Ben nodded understandingly, and that he wouldn’t judge him, he continued:” When I was cured, I armed myself, and together we got the money to cure my family. By then, neither one of us had the taste to get back to the mines, even though the plague was gone by then. So, we decided to switch sides- after all, I have a family to feed and I can’t risk my life on a daily basis, trying to rob people. So, I signed up as a mercenary in Mullis Town about three months ago, and that is what he have been doing ever since.”

“Good for you”, Ben said:” Are you already familiar with this place?”

“Sure.”

“Can you tell me something about that building with the tower?”

“Oh, the pigeon place. From what I know, you can put your carrier pigeons there, and you can even rent them. Actually, we are going to have some on our caravan as well. It seems to work this way: you can rent a pigeonry and buy pigeons there. When the pigeons get back, you get part of your money back. This way, if something happens to our caravan, we can inform the headquarter of the trading house we are working for.”

“Can only trading houses rent pigeons and pigeonries there?”

“Ah, I wouldn’t that. Even though I had been thinking about buying one or two young ones, and raise them at home in Mullis Town, so I could send messages home to my family…”.

By now, the commotion at the caravan had calmed now, and they were ready to leave. Toby and Kalle got up and said goodbye, since they had to join it now.

Ben walked back to his friends, and together they went to the wooden tower. On the way, their boots were heavied by the mud and they had to be double careful to avoid the droppings of the horses that had just left. Over the entrance there was a sign saying “Torkinus’ Carrier Pigeons” and inside, there was a balding man behind a counter, and some employees were going up and down the stairs that lead up.

Seeing Jan, who’s armor and emblem of Corean showed that he had the power of a guard and judge, the  man behind the counter greeted them with the utmost respect:” Greetings, dear gentlemen! My name is Tak Torkinus and I am the owner of this humble enterprise. How can I be of service to you?”

Jan stepped ahead:” We are currently leading an investigation, and your pigeons are a lead that could get us ahead. Do you have a list of your customers?”

“Sorry, sir, but we don’t. You see, a lot of our customers value their privacy. There are those with romantic affairs, that have to remain secret, or trading houses who want to act without other houses knowing what they are doing and many others. Of course, all this is legitimated, and I have a license that was signed by the high council. If you would wish, Sir, I would be more than happy to show it to you.”

Jan shook his head:” This won’t be necessary. How do you make sure that only the right people get to their pigeons then?”

“Ah, when a customers rents a pigeonry, he pays it’s rent in advance. He also pays for the pigeons he purchases of course. Then, the customer can get as many metal plates with the number of his pigeonry as he wants. You see, those plates are almost impossible to forge, except for magical means, maybe. Anyway, then showing the plate suffices to get to the pigeons, or get money back for returned pigeons, or paying further rent.”.

Since Jan was busy contemplating what the man had told him, Niklas stepped in:” And is there a chance you could tell us something about the owner of one of the pigeonries, if we told you which one it is?”

“Sure, if it is a regular customer, I would probably remember him. After all, I would like to help the government in every way I can”.

Ben nodded, and after walking up to the roundway with several pigeons, he recognized the one he had talked to earlier that morning. He showed it to the owner, and Torkinus’ face lightened up:” Ah! There is a halfling who comes to this specific one twice a day. In fact, you have missed him by merely half an hour! But he will most likely be here again before sunset”.

The friends talked to each other. They would use the day to investigate the DeBronis estate, where the culprit must have found out about the transport of the artifacts. Then, in the evening, Torn and Niklas, who were the stealthiest, would try to follow the halfling after he had been to the pigeonry. 

Once they had decided about their next steps, they told Torkinus to keep silent about their investigation and went up to Temple City


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Shadows of Mithril, part 2*

In the DeBronis estate, the majordomus welcomed them. He showed them to the room where Asuras had told Derigesh and Barconius abou the gift the house wanted to make to the city.

It was a nice room with a big picturewindow to the south side, giving a view of Mithril below. There were some comfortable chairs, shelves with books on the wall and a fireplace in which a small fire was burning away. There was definetly no space in here for someone to hide.

They checked whether it was possible to listen to a conversation in this room by listening in one of the adjactent rooms, but even where the shaft of the fireplace lead upwards, there was no way to hear what happened in any other room.

Talking to some servants, they found no further clues on how anybody could have obtained the knowledge. There was of course the possibility of magic, however they were certain that a man like Emili Derigesh would have made sure that there were no scrying sensors and no magic around before having a confidential talk.

Meanwhile, the sun was nearing the horizon on the west, and so it was high time to return to the pigeonry. Trepat and Jan went to a pub where they had a meal and waited for their friends to fetch them.

Ben went into the wooden building, where he lingered near the counter. After a while, a young, dark haired halfling entered, and the owner nodded to Ben, signalling him that this was the halfling they were looking for.

Ben left the building, and now Niklas and Torn, who were waiting outside near a stand where mulled wine was sold over a counter that consisted of a bar between two barrels, knew that the next halfling who would leave the building was the one they were looking for. They finished their drinks, and soon they saw the halfling. He was happily whistling a song, gingerly sidestepping horsedroppings and ponds on the way, and he was heading out of the caravansary compound.

As the halfling walked down the road that lead southwards between the merchant quarter and the harbor, the last rays of the setting sun were gone, and Niklas and Torn took turns following him through the evening. Then, as Niklas was falling back, he noticed that they weren’t the only ones moving through the shadows.

It appeared that there was a woman with a green coat following Torn. She seemed unaware of Niklas, so that she was staying out of Torn’s view but stayed visible for the monk. Like the two heroes, she was expertly using doorways and other shadows to stay invisible for the one she was following. Niklas decided to stay behind her and see what she was up to. After all, she could very well be an accomplice of the halfling.

Eventually, the halfling reached the Demon Whale, a former warehouse that had been converted to a huge tavern with a sailor’s rooming house on the upper floors. The halfling entered the building, followed by Torn, followed by the woman, followed by Niklas, and except for Niklas all of them were unaware that they were being followed. Each one was greeted by a wall of heat and smoke as they went into the one big tavern-hall that was stretching out on the ground floor of the structure. There were over a hundred sailors in there, drinking, dancing, singing and pinching the barmaids’ bottoms.

Yet, the tavern wasn’t completely full yet. At this time of year, the seaways to Albadia were still blocked by ice, and so it was actually offseason in the Whale. The halfling went to a free table close to the middle of the hall, where he sat down and hailed a barmaid. After a short while, he was given a bowl of steaming soup and a tankard of ale. Niklas watched as Torn settled down near him and the woman did the same. He positioned himself to be able to watch all three of them, leaning against one of the beams that supported the ceiling of the drinking hall.

The halfling finished his meal, and as he reached for his tankard, something strange happened to him. First, his right hand got darker, and insubstantial. He looked at his hand in horror, but before he could even shout out, his whole body transformed. The flesh disappeared, and his clothes fell to the ground, no longer held up by any substance. Where there had been a halfling before, there was now an unattached shadow, similar to those the heroes had encountered at the raiders’ camp.

Torn was up on his knees, and he ran forward, but it was too late, and now he was standing face to face with the shadow, which attacked him. Meanwhile, panic rippled through the room, starting near the transformed halfling and then expanding like the waves in a lake after a stone had been thrown into it, until all of the hall was caught, and people were running around in a mad rush for the exit, knocking over tables and stepping on the unfortunate who had fallen down.

Niklas was bracing himself against the beam. He had noticed that the woman seemed to be as surprised as him, and she too stayed. He was pretty sure that when the halfling was transformed, she had been looking into the crowd to her right, as if she had seen something peculiar there.

As sailors and barmaids were trampling over each other, the shadow attacked Torn, draining strength out of him. The half orc pulled out his mace, but he was barely able to wield it with so many people running into each other. Then, the woman cast a spell. Before Niklas was there to intervene, she had finished it, and two magical missiles flew at the two combatants, both hitting the shadow.

Torn used the advantage, but he wasn’t able to hit his transparent opponend. Barely noticing another pair of missiles hitting the shadow, he fought on. Then Niklas and the woman, who he hadn’t seen before, were next to him. Niklas punched at the shadow without any effect, and the woman cast another spell and flames burst forth from the tips of her fingers which she had fanned out in front of her.

This was enough. The shadow dissipated and before Torn could thank her, the woman was heading for the exit.

“That woman, she had been following you ever since we left the pigeonry”, Niklas said, panting.

“Let’s not lose her, then!”, Torn said, and they both headed to the exit, catching up with the mysterious woman.


----------



## Nightfall

Mm I always did love that spell, transmute flesh to shadow.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Shadows of Mithril, part 3 of 4*

They ran out of the Demonwhale just in time to see the green hooded woman turning around the corner of the drinking hall. Anxious to keep up, they sprinted to the corner, and there she was, seemingly oblivious to her pursuers, entering one of the streets of the merchant quarter.

Niklas and Ben walked up to her, and when they had caught up, Torn positioned himself into the woman's way and said:" Good evening, m'lady. My name is Torn and my friend here is called Niklas Anson Palek. I hadn't had the chance to thank you for your intervention against the shade back in the tavern.".

For the first time, they were able to get a good look at the woman. Standing in front of the burly human and halforc, she seemed rather small in her green coat which she had wrapped around herself, but her big brown eyes were eyeing the two steadily, showing that she was not in the least afraid of them. She nodded graciously and said:" That is not necessary. Seeing that you were attacked by the supernatural, it was my duty as a citizen to intervene to the best of my meager abilities."

Before she could walk around them, Torn intervened:" I see that you have a good heart, m'lady, but I am honor-bound to at least invite you for a drink." He pointed at a tavern a little bit down the road:"Why don't you join us for a glass of wine?"

"Alright", she answered in resignation and they went to the pub.

When they were seated around the table in the small comfy taven, Niklas adressed her:" Alright, let's get to business. I know for a fact that you had been shadowing my friend here for a while. Who do you work for?"

She raised her eyebrows in insulted consternation:" I don't know what you are talking about.".

"I have watched you following him from the cavansary to the Demon Whale".

If she was surprised about Niklas having watched her, she wasn't showing it:" Why, sure. I had business to attend to in the caravansery. When I was done, I walked down the mainroad along the sea and went to the Demon Whale for a meal and a pint. Surely there is nothing illegal about that?"

Niklas bent over the table, his distorted face close to the woman:" Don't try to fool me. I saw you, there is no doubt about that. And I will not let you go until you tell us who you are working for."

The woman leaned back, sighed, and turned to Torn:" Could we speak in private? I will tell you who I work for but I would rather do it with merely four eyes and four ears around."

Torn nodded. Niklas, content about his performance as bad militiaman, walked outside, keeping an eye on the two through the window. When they were alone, the woman introduced herself:" My name is Nadezhda, and I have been observing you for an organization called the Scaled Ones.".

Torn tried to hide his surprise. He had heard about the Scaled Ones. Originally, they were founded by rogues and illusionists in Hedrad, ever challenging the rigid order there with their magical and mundane skills. In the beginning they viewed themselves as a force of chaos in a lawful society. As time passed they found out, that you could make money with those skills as well. And so they spread, turning into a criminal organization that spanned all of Ghelspad. They were involved in smuggling, thievery and the likes but stayed out of the more violent business like extortion, slavery and downright murder.

That was all Torn knew. There was probably more to them, but he didn't know. When all was said and done, the Scaled ones were as elusive as they were famous, and so most things known about them weren't much more than rumors.

"I see. And why are the Scaled Ones interested in me?", he asked.

"I was told that you look like a candidate for the future. Since we like to get an impression of future members first, I had been looking for you, and so I was around when the halfling you were following was turned into a shadow. I think I even saw who did it.".

Now Torn was on the edge of his seat:"Who?"

"I will tell you if you tell me what you have been doing in turn."

"Deal."

Nadezhda told him that when she had settled down in the Demon Whale, she had seen an Albadian merchant gesturing with his hands and uttering some words. She didn't recognize the spell, and when nothing happened, she had already dismissed this as some sort of hedge magic with little effect. But then, as the merchant turned to leave, the halfling was transformed into a shadow. Looking back,  she was pretty sure that the Albadian had modified a spell in order to work after a short delay, so that he could be up and about once it had started to work it's dark magic.

Torn asked her to describe the Albadian to him in all details she could remember, until his suspicions were confirmed:" I believe I have met him... His name is Baron Yurik Vagas".

It all made sense. He had been around on the new years's ball, and if he was able to turn a man into a shadow, he could have had the means to eavesdrop on Derigesh, Barconius and Khelarian Asuras that night. Torn told her about it, and after she had promised to try to find out all she could about the halfling and the Albadian Baron, she left, waving goodbye to Niklas as she cast a spell and turned invisible in the middle of the road.

Torn dropped some coins on the table and left as well, telling his friend that the woman would help them. However, as Niklas wanted to know more about her, the halforc told him that he had promised to her not to tell anyone. Her intentions were good, and his word had to suffice as proof.

They picked up their friends and told them what had happened so far, and together, they returned to the Demon Whale. Except for the waiters, bouncers and the owner, the place was deserted now. The sailors had gone to other places for the night, and there was plenty of cleaning up left in the wake of the panicked flight earlier.

However, noone could tell them anything about the halfling. The Innkeeper claimed that it was impossible for him to keep track of all his hundreds of guests, and the one waitress who said that she knew that he was a regular guest was silenced when one of the bouncers walked up to the table that she had been cleaning with a rag.

After a while, two Paladins appeared and questioned the owner and the employees as well, however by the time, the adventurers were pretty certain that official means wouldn't get them far.

So, late at night, Torn intercepted the barmaid that had been silenced by a bouncer on her way home, and after he had pressed some gold into her palm, he found out that the halfling's name was Joey and that he was part of an organization of thugs, called "The Reapers", Mithril's very own club of cut-throats and murderers.

Back at Torn's appartment, the friends talked about what they had found out. It was unlikely that the Reapers were responsible for what had happened tonight. They were a gang of brutal bashers and murderers, and they did not have the necessary magical force for a spell like the one the night before. It was much more likely that the halfling had been a member of the gang since he had little chance of making it on his own, and that he was working for yet another organization: The penumbral Pentagon. Since he was dead, they didn't know whether he even knew who he had been working for in the first place.

Niklas and Jan returned to templecity, and the others settled down to sleep in the appartment. Fearing the worst, they put up watches, and at the first light of the new morning, Trepat heard a rap at the window. Torn lived on the third floor, but Trepat saw a woman's face through the window, nonetheless. Immediately, Trepat made the connection between Torn's narration and the female face up here, and he opened the window. Nadezhda thanked him and climbed in.

They woke up Ben and Torn, and told him that she knew where the Baron lived- furthermore she was able to confirm that the halfling did indeed work for the reapers. She drank a cup of hot tea, and when she was done relaying what she knew, she said:" I would like to help you. If you don't mind, I will aid you while you are confronting that man. After all, he seems to be very dangerous, and I believe you need all the help you could get."

Trepat looked around, and seeing that his friends agreed, he stretched out his hand:" We would be glad to have you!".

"Good. There is one thing I have to ask you, though. Don't tell your law-abiding friends anything about the Scaled Ones".

Trepat nodded:" That shouldn't be a problem. The monk knows when to ignore things, and the other guy will need a week to even figure out that there is one more person than usual in the group.".

Torn got up:"Allright, let us pick up the others then. I think it is time to find out more about Baron Yurik's estate.".


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## Nightfall

The Scaled and the Penumbral!  Nice combo.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Shadows of Mithril, part 4of5 (Yes, yes, I know, I had spoken of four parts earlier)*

They went uptown and met their friends at Mithril Keep. They decided to have two of them watching the house at any time. Torn and Niklas were chosen to take up the first eight-hour watch, after which Trepat and Ben would take over.

Yurik's house was a three story building in moon street, close to the shrine of the lost. All the houses there belonged to succesul merchants and the like, and there was hardly any traffic on the cobbled street. The only means to stay close to the house was to either hunch into one of the opposite doorways, hoping that none of the people in there would notice them or walking up and down the road. From what Nadezhda had told them, it seemed that there was only one person living in the house, but that one person looked different every time he or she left it. One time, it would be a woman leaving, and a man returning, or vice versa. But there was never more than one person inside, and so the Scaled Ones had surmised that there was really only one single individual who had the power to change his appearance in there.

Around noon Niklas and Tornn  were sweating in their winterclothes. The springsun was melting away the last snow on the roofs and streets, and after a while they were both holding their wrapped up coats in their arms. Then, the door of the house opened, and a young red haired woman came out. Torn followed her, and Niklas stayed behind, keeping an eye on the house.

The young woman went to a storagebuilding down by the harbor, and Torn waited outside. As the hours passed, Niklas grew more and more worried about his friend not coming back, until, in the afternoon, he was walking up in front of the merchant's house, as suddenly he stood face to face with Baron Yurik Vagas. Both stood there, puzzled, just ten yards from each other, until the Baron was the first to react.

He chanted a short formula and strechtched his arms out towards the surprised monk. Immediately, Niklas felt how a dark force tried to get a hold of his body, and for a terrifying moment that seemed to last an eternity, he could see his hand getting darker and almost insubstantial. Surpressing his panic, he willed himself to stay calm, and with all the mental strength he had, he forced his body to remain solid.

The shadow disappeared, and his flesh became as solid as it had been before, and now Niklas jumped into action. Running as fast as his feet could carry him, he dashed down the road and around the corner, out of the sight of the Penumbral Lord.

Around the corner, he decided to get back to Mithril Keep. All this seems to be too much to handle for him and his friends, and he knew that he had to tell the Paladins all he knew, so that they could come to the house in force. Having made up his mind, he went uptown, as a call from the roof stopped him.

It was Nadezhda, who came crawling headfirst like a spider down the wall of the house to his right:" I have seen the man attacking you. When you ran, he stepped into the shadow of his house, and disappeared."

"Alright. I will go get the Paladins. Meanwhile, stay behind and tell Torn what has happened if he comes back". He hesitated for a moment, and then added with a reassuring tone:"When he comes back, I mean."

After Niklas had reported about the events at the keep, it was a matter of minutes until a small troop of Paladins was ready. Niklas lead the way down, and together with Ben, Trepat and Jan, he showed them the way to the merchant's estate. Meanwhile, Torn was back as well. He had stayed outside of the building for hours, and in spite of many men and women coming and going, the red haired woman hadn't been among them.

The Paladins knocked hard against the door:"Open up in the name of the shining council!"

When nothing happened for a while, they bashed the door down and stormed into the house, their mithril swords drawn. The heroes waited outside, and for minutes, all they heard were the Paladins ravaging the house. Eventually, the Paladins came out again. Their leader reported that the house was deserted.

While the Paladins returned to the keep, the heroes were on their own again. They went into the house, and looking around, they found no evidence that anyone had really lived in there. There were guestrooms and representative rooms on the ground floor, but the kitchen-stove looked like there had never been a fire in it, and the upper rooms were all empty.

Most of the furniture had been turned over by the searching Paladins, and it looked as if the whole building had merely served as a front for whoever was behind all this... Maybe it had been Dar' Tang himself...

They searched through the house once more, even though they thought it was unlikely that they would succeed where the Paladins of the order of Mithril had failed. They started on top, where they found a few pigeon feathers, and worked their way to the basement. There was a winecellar.- Here, too, they gained the impression that the place hadn't been used in a year. Most of the bottles were empty, and even the wine Ben tried was corked.

The bottles were lined up in the wall, each one in a small seperate shaftlike compartment that was hewn into the rock of the basewall. As Ben was complaining about the bad wine he had just tried, Trepat noticed that one of the bottle looked different then the others. Unlike the other bottles down here, it seemed clean, and it was neither covered by cobwebs nor dust. The elf reached for the bottle, and when he tried to pull it out, he felt a resistance- and has he pulled on, a trapdoor opened in the middle of the room.

The trapdoor opened a shaft that lead further down into the darkness.

Niklas and Nadezhda stayed behind, in case anyone should come from behind, and the others climbed down. The shaft lead to a damp, rectangular room that was totally empty. The walls and the floor were moist, there were small puddles of dark water on the floor and there was a heavy closed door at the far side of the room.

The friends looked carefully around, as all of a sudden three things happened:

The trapdoor above them slammed shut, Trepat's and Torn's shadow fused together, keeping the two tied together as strongly as a chain around their ankles could have done, and large black leathery tentacles grew out of the floor, lashing out for anything they could grasp.


----------



## Ancalagon

I wonder what the scaled want with this...

Ancalagon


----------



## Nightfall

They're probably concerned that Dar'Tan's schemes will disrupt trade. Not to mention he might be trying to get a monopoly on illicit activities.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Shadows of Mithril- part 5 of 5*

Whenever one of the tentacle got hold of one of the heroes, it wound itself around it's victim and started to squeeze tightly, pushing out the air out of lungs and crushing bones in the process. Fortunately for the adventurers, though, those tentacles were solid, and they could be hurt with physical weapons.

Torn was the first to get caught by one of the tentacles, and Trepat, who's shadow was attached to his, was pulled along. Those adventurers who stayed free of the tentacles' grasp hacked at those that had caught up a victim. Usually, two or three good blows sufficed to destroy one of the leathery black arms, but more often then not, help came at the last possible moment. By the time Niklas had succeeded in opening and blocking the trapdoor above, Trepat and Torn were already unconcious on the floor, but in the end, they succeeded in defeating the last of the tentacle.

Ben and Jan took care of the wounds, and when they were all back on their feet, bruised, but alive, Torn took care of the door, with Trepat, who was still magically chained to him, close by. Recognizing the design of the lock, opening was easy for him.

Behind the door, there was a corridor that lead into the catacombs. At an intersection, Trepat found tracks that lead further down, and eventually, they reached another door. As Torn examined it, the rest of the group retreated a little back into the corridor they came from.

Torn found no trap, and so he started to work at the lock, but as he inserted his lockpick tools, he heard a short *click* and before he or Trepat could react all hell broke lose. The world around them exploded in heat, noise and light, as a Fireball was triggered. Fortunately for Trepat, Torn's body shielded him from the main force of the impact, so that they were both badly scorched but still concious afterwards.

Fortunately for them, the door was blasted open as well, so that after Ben took care of them, they were all able to enter the room behind it without triggering any further traps. The room was empty, except for one marble portal in the middle of it. Between the white frame, there was a flat field of utter blackness that absorbed all light around it. In a way, it was in every aspect, the exact opposite of a mirror.

Jan pulled out his sword:" Allright, I will go first then!"

"What? Are you insane? We are all badly wounded and there is most likely a powerful wizard behind that door!", said Trepat, infuriated by the paladin's unstoppable optimism.

Jan was about to answer, as a black, shadowy arm materialized out of the field and touched him. Suddenly, everything was like when the Slarecian shadow had hit him all over again. He was severly weakened and hardly able to carry the weight of his armor anymore. He crashed down, fell forward and as the black field disappeared, leaving behind only an empty, pointless doorway in the middle of the room, he hit the floor.

There was nothing left to do now, except for carrying poor Jan out and informing Barconius. Back at Mithril Keep, the leader of the Paladins was agitated. He sent out squads of Paladins with backing from the shadow guild. All local forces were mobilized, tracking down associates of the shadow mage and sweeping through the streets, doublechecking all contacts of Jurik Vagas.

Meanwhile, Torn and Trepat remained chained together. It took Emili Derigesh, who worked a powerful ritual, to tear apart their shadows. Days went by, but there was no trace of the disappeared nobleman. He had definetly been a member of the Penumbral Pentagon, and maybe he had even been Dar Tang himself... Yet, he had slipped away. But still the deeds of the heroes had destroyed many months of work- if he was to return, he would have to build all his cover identities fromscratch again.

Eventually, Ben and Trepat returned to the Gravelfists, and soon afterwards, Jan and Niklas were sent after them to help them negotiate for farming tools, animals, and the like. Torn, who had been informed by now that he would be able to join the Scaled Ones in due time, decided to come along. A little spring trip to Mullis Town sounded like a nice change of pace.

Little did they know, that soon they would be endangering their life because of The Serpent Amphora again...


----------



## Lars Frehse

Coming up next:


Our stalwart heroes against "The Serpent in the Fold".

So, some spoilers are in order, since SSS Druid's adventure "Serpent in the Fold" will come next.


----------



## Nightfall

Sweet!  Can't wait to see what you do then Lars!


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Eve of the Taurosphinx - part 1*

It was the first of Tanot in the year 151, exactly one  year after they had left Durrover, when the adventurers were finishing their negotiation in Mullis Town on behalf of the Gravelfist Orcs. Niklas and Jan were there to give the merchants a guarantee on behalf of the city of Mithril, so that the orcs were able to purchase much needed goods on credit, and Ben, Torn and Trepat served as middlemen. After all, the merchants, who were mostly humans, felt much more comfortable doing their business with an elf, a halfling or even a halforc, than with Orcs.

It was a warm afternoon, and the sun was shining brightly in a sky that was as blue as the sea as they settled down for  dinner with Donnangar. They sat down in front of their inn on wooden benches and ate outside, watching the busy pedestrians and carts on the street, as a young human approached them.

He was grinning happily and as he arrived at the table, the friends recognized him: It was Eochaid- the Vigilant who had, in the previous summer, handed to them the Serpent Amphora, a leaden vessel, that held some of the essence of Mormo and which was protected by the seal of Chardun. When they had first met, he was on the brink of death from Asaathi poison, but Ben's herbs and medicines had saved him. Together, they had brought the Amphora to Lave, the capital of Vesh, all the while hunted by Belsamites, Ratmen and other agents of evil.

It was a cheerful reunion, and soon they were drinking wine and telling each other what had happened in the year since they last saw each other. After a while, Eochaid explained why he was there in Mullis Town: "Originally, I was sent to deliver a message to Mithril. But as I had just sattled my horse, and was about to leave Lave, I was stopped by Home Commader Kelemis Durm himself.

"He told me that I would find you here in Mullis Town, leading negotiations for an Orcish tribe, and that I was to deliver letters to you."

And with that he pulled out five identical looking letters from his bag, which he had put in front of his chair. They opened the letters, and read them:

_My friends,

Please forgive the suddenness of this message. 

It is imperative that I speak with you, since a situation has arisen that demands action, but I fear that my vigilants are hampered- quite frankly, they are too well known. We need someone of strength and dedication of the kind which you have shown in the past.

I would ask you that you come as quickly as you might to the Hall of Command in the Veshian capitol of Lave. Present yourself to the Majordomo there, a man named Trophion. Time is of the essence.

I thank you.

With kind regards,

Kelemis Durn,
Home Commander of Vesh_

After they had read the lettters, all of them were silent. Each of them thought back to his own part in the adventure that had revolved around the Serpent Amphora. The good cheer that had prevailed just a few minutes earlier was gone, and they all felt sobered up.


Five days later, they were in the sun room in the Hall of Command. It was a large and beautiful chamber  with huge picture widows that transformed the sunlight into beautiful golden rays which were bathing the room in a warm golden light. With them were two Vigilants and one priest of Tanil. There was Kelemis Durn himself, his lieutenant, Amra Varith, a young woman with a face that was both stern and sensual, and Erem of the Huntress, a scholar who served Tanil.

After they were formally welcomed and Kelemis had thanked them for coming on such short notice, Erem cleared his throat, and with a shy and nervous smile he handed out some scrolls to the heroes.

"As you will see", he started," these scrolls are copies of an account of Lilliandel, a legendary archer-bard who had fought for Tanil in the divine war. She reports about how the gods fought Mormo. Apparently, Chardun pulled out the witch queen's heart and afterwards, he had captured parts of her essence in a leaden amphora which he sealed with the powers that he commands as the god of binding."

Kelemis nodded towards the scholar and continued:" This vessel is the Amphora which you have taken from the Titanspawn and brought here last summer. Ever since, titanspawn activity has gotten much stronger in Vesh- especially servants of Mormo, Asaathi and Slitheren are found deeper and deeper within the borders of our realm. It looks like the servants of Mormo have gotten stronger and bolder in the past, and they seem to crave this vessel that holds the essence of their mistress. 

Now we intend to send you and and three other groups, some of which you had met on the way in here, on four seperate missions with the goal to learn as much about the serpent amphora as it is possible for mortals. Before I continue, I need to know one thing though: Will you accept this mission?".

Without any hesitation, they all agreed. Not only had the Vigilants proven to be grateful employers with good intentions in the past, but they, too, were curious just what the true significance of this artifact was.

He smiled contently:" Very well, then. I want you to go to Hedrad. The city of The Lawgiver is also home to the most extensive libraries and wisest sages in this part of the world. There, you should be able to find more information about the amphora. Meanwhile, small parties of known vigilants, complete with false amphorae, will try to draw out Mormo's forces in the open."

When they were finished in the Hall of Command, and after they had said goodbye to the two vigilants and the priest, they went to the market to buy provisions. After all, a long journey to the city in the east lay ahead of them.

Then, as Niklas was talking to a shopkeeper on the market, he felt something tugging on his backpack. Turning around, he stood face to face with a scrawny brown haired human, who was just pulling his hand out of Niklas' backpack. Seeing that he was caught redhanded, the thief turned around and ran down the market, with Niklas in hot pursuit.


----------



## Nightfall

And thus it begins!


----------



## Ancalagon

are they bringing the real amorpha with them?  Because if so, this will be incredibly dangerous.

Ancalagon


----------



## Nightfall

No the Amphora is staying in Vesh, Ang. They however brought from Trela to Lave and are now questing to find out more about the Amphora.


----------



## Ancalagon

Ok, then why send out fake amphoras?  Isn't that puting the veshians on those missions at extreme risks?  It seems too "big " a distraction.

Ancalagon


----------



## Nightfall

Yes but this way if they fail, the losses are slight compared to losing the Amphora itself along with said party.


----------



## Lars Frehse

That is right. Furthermore, the Vigilantes plan to  lure Mormo worshippers out in the open by carrying fake amphoras around...
Of course this plan is not exactly fool-proof, but which plan is?

And now to the next part. Sorry it took so long, but real life kept me from writing and playing. However, the story is back on track- both in the game and in the storyhour.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Eve of the Taurosphinx part 2*

Torn, who was close by, noticed the commotion and reacting fast, he too joined the pursuit. The rogue tried to shake the two by jumping over vendor's stalls and recklessly dashing through throngs of people, but in spite of the chaos he created by pushing over crates of fruit, he only made it to the end of the market square, where Niklas and Torn caught him.

Once the half-orc got a hold of him, the thief stopped in his tracks, not bothering to try to get away anymore. His shoulders and his head was hanging, showing that he wasn't ready to fight. While Torn held him, Niklas checked his backpack, but to his surprise, there was nothing missing. Instead, it looked like the thief had even added something: rummaging through the pack, he found a small silver brooch in the shape of a horseshoe.

Holding it up in front of the cutpurse's face, he barked: "What is this?"

The thief shrugged:" Dunno."

"We'll find out", said Torn. He lifted the skinny man from the ground, and together with their friends, who had just caught up with them, they went into a nearby alley.

There, Torn took the cutpurse by the collar, and using only one arm, he raised him against one of the walls. "Now, you will tell us why you planted that brooch on my friend, or else...", he snarled, his rage barely contained.

Seeing the halforc's face getting red with blood was enough for the man:" Allright, allright. I did put it into his backpack.".

Still holding him up, Torn ordered: "Tell me your name and tell me why."

"My name is Sangrus. Some merchant payed me to do it. He told me to wait in front of the Hall of Command for a group that consists of a halfling, an elf, a halforc and two humans and to plant that brooch on them before they leave. But I swear, I don't have the faintest idea why he wanted me to do that. All I know is that he payed me handsomely."

That really seemed to be all Sangrus  knew. The friends questioned him for a while longer, but all he could do was describe what the merchant had looked like. Niklas wanted to bring him to the militia, so that the local authorities could deal with him, while Ben argues that they could rather use him as a bait to whoever had hired him in the first place. 

After all, they were all puzzled. Maybe the brooch was a sensor for their enemies, but Trepat checked it, and didn't seem to be magical. And who had wanted to plant it on them in? If it were the servants of Mormo, this could only mean, that they had either shadowed them all along, or  that they had an informer within the walls of the Vigil's Hall of Command itself...

After a klot of arguing, they decided to split. Niklas and Torn would go to the Vigil's Hall of Command while the others would take him to a quiet room in an inn. 

After leaving the alley, Trepat Ben and Jan took their captive with them, but before they reached an inn, something unexpected happened. When they encountered a patrol of militia-guardsmen, their captive suddenly started screaming at the guards:" Hey! Arrest me! I'm a thief."

The guards turned towards the small group, all of them obviously puzzled at a potential thief turning himself over, as Ben interjected:" Good day, sirs. Don't listen to him. Our friend Sangrus has had one too many, and when he's drunk, he likes to rattle some cages..."

"No, no, no, don't listen to them!", Sangrus interrupted:" I have proof that I was the burglar of the house at the corner of pilfer-street and cobblerroad last week! If you want to check, there is still some of the loot at my home!".

The officer nodded, hiding his surprise:" Very well, then. You are arrested. And I must ask you, gentlemen, to come along as well."

Jan raised his hand:" I don't think this is necessary. You know, I am a paladin of Corean, and so I am an authority figure myself. And I can assure you that we have everything under control".

"Sir, I can see the emblems of Corean", the guard answered:" But here, in the city of Lave, you are first and foremost a guest. Please come along, sir.".

Jan wanted to carry on, but before he could continue, Ben flashed him an angry look. After all, their work for the Vigilantes was supposed to stay a secret. They followed the guards back to the militia-headquarter, where they told them everything that had happened, except for the things that had happened in the hall of command.

Then, they went to meet their friends. Torn and Niklas told them that the Vigilantes were taking the threat that the servants of Mormo posed very seriously and that they would investigate both their own organization and the background of Sangrus. However, there was little the heroes could do here, and so they decided to leave town and catch a boat to take them down the Hornswythe river.

Still, they were puzzled. The whole episode with the brooch didn't make much sense. And quite clearly, Sangrus the thief feared the people who had ordered him to plant the object more than the group. And why was he so willing to go to jail?

It all remained mysterious, so they sold the brooch, which neither the milita nor the Vigilantes had wanted, and then headed down to the gate. There were many people coming and going, and they had to stand in line since the guards were giving everyone who was coming and going at least a casual inspection.

As they were standing in line and waiting among traders, peasants and other travellers, a sudden shout behind them made them turn around. "Stop! Thieves!", it sounded behind them, and they saw a fat middle aged merchant with a balding head and sweat-drenched clothes puffing his way towards them. As he reached them, he used his last strength to raise a finger at them:" They... stole... one of my... best pieces!".


----------



## Nightfall

*chuckles* I love this little bit. Probably one of the best parts of the module.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Eve of the Taurosphinx, part 3 of 4*

Torn shouted out:" Don't listen to him, he is trying to frame us!". 

But the guards were taking hold of them, and their leader said:" That may be, but for now we have to ask you to come along to the gatetower with us. We will check whether the merchant's claim is true, and if not, there is nothing you have to fear.".

Hoping for a chance to get a hold of the "merchant", the friends went along. In the tower, the winded fat man described the brooch, which had been planted on them by Sagrus. But of course the guards found nothing when they searched the heroes- after all they had already sold the brooch. So, the guards turned to the merchant again:" Sorry, sir, but there is no evidence. That means that we will have to let those gentlemen go on their way.".

"Well, they must have hidden it somewhere", the merchant said with a consternated voice.

"Sir," the guard answered:" we are not able to check this. So, we have to ask you to be on your way then, as well.".

Grumbling and muttering, the man left. Meanwhile, the heroes gathered their things and ran out after him, seeing him turn into a sidestreet just as they got out of the guardtower. Walking briskly, they caught up with him, and keeping just a few feet behind him, they made sure that he knew that they were there.

Eventually, the man entered a tavern. Torn followed him in, while the others split: Ben and Niklas went around to the back, while the other two waited up front. In there, the man ordered a meal, and then, all of a sudden he vanished. A general commotion ensued, and Torn jumped up, keeping an eye on the door. As the door opened, he ran right to the doorway, but there was nothing there, and even though there was a muddy puddle in the entrance, there were no tracks in it.

Realizing that he had been tricked, he ran back into the tavern and to the back entrance, where he asked Ben and Niklas whether the backdoor had moved.

"Why, yes, there must have been a draft or something. It opened two or three minutes ago", Niklas said.

Torn cursed, but looking around, he found no tracks on the cobblestone street. Again, he went through the tavern to pick up Trepat. But even the Elf was unable to find any fresh tracks to follow... They had been tricked again, and it didn't look like there was a fast way to find out what was behind all that. 

Trepat sighed, mirroring the frustration all of them were feeling:" We might as well leave now and find out whethere there are still any boats leaving this late in the afternoon...".

Again they went to the gate and this time they were able to get to the port without getting stopped. There was still one flat-bottom riverboat that would leave on the same afternoon and make use of the few remaining hours of daylight. After a short negotiation, the heroes booked a trip down to Barel near the mouth of the Hornswythe and soon they were on their way down the river.

It was a pleasant trip. The river was meandering through the countryside and the trees and flowers to the left and right were growing leaves and petals, displaying them in all their spring glory. Captain Yengly, an unusually short human, and his four crewmen were simple but pleasant companions and the Skiprock was calmly drifting down the water. At nightfall, they would beach the boat along the bank, and settle down to rest in the meadows or fields next to the river.

For three days and three nights, nothing happened. The wheather was mostly pleasant, and there were only few short rainfalls in between. Still, they put up watches at night. Even though they were in one of the tamer regions of Ghelspad, none of them had forgotten their previous encounters in Lave. Someone, or something, was after them. And if their foes knew when to expect them coming out of the Hall of Command in Lave, it was more than likely that those invisible opponents knew where they were heading as well.

In the middle of the third night, Trepat jerked up with a gasp, as he awoke from a troubled dream. Looking around, he saw that all his friends were asleep- and even Torn, who was responsible for the midnight watch, seemed to be dozing on the side of the camp.

As he got up, intending to wake up his friend, he suddenly stood frozen as an ear-splitting roar reverberated out of the night sky. The clouds were now swirling about violently and there was thunder shaking the earth and lightning cracking the sky overhead, and yet, in spite of this noise that was forceful enough to wake up a Titan, his companions and the crewmen of the skiprock remained asleep, unaware of their surroundings.

Trepat kneeled down and shook Torn, who remained asleep, as suddenly, looking up, he saw that the clouds were parting like curtains. An enormous beast, with the body of a lion, giant wings of a bird of prey and a gargantuan darkhaired head of a bull was plunging down. Frantically, Trepat slapped Torn, shouting at the top of his lungs at him to wake up, but the half-orc didn't react.

Then, the monster was down in the camp, and as he landed, he rammed the claws of his mighty front paws through Jan's body. Trepat saw the blood shooting out of the wounds, but except for a groan, there was no sign that the Paladin even felt the pain.

The elf decided that the sleep must have been magical, and hoping that he had a chance to wake up Niklas, he went over to the monk and kicked him. Meanwhile, the Taurosphinx rammed it's horns through Torn, and like a child would toss a potatoe with a fork, he threw the half-orc into the nearby river with a flick of his head.

With Niklas unresponsive but not yet ready to run, Trepat summoned his arcane powers and threw two magic missiles at the beast, but the energy missiles simply fizzled as they hit it's fur... The roar of the monster sounded almost taunting now as it bent down and picked up Ben between his mighty jaws. After biting and crushing the halfling once, he tossed him into the river as well, making sure that even if the bite wasn't sufficient, the water would be sufficient to kill the incarnate.

In spite of all the horror, something within Trepat hardened. A cold reason dictated him that there was hardly a point in running away now- this thing was winged, after all. With a smooth precision, he picked up his bow and shot an arrow at the monster. Again, he didn't pierce the beast's hide, and as it crushed Niklas chest, caving it in by throwing all his weight on the monk with his front paws, there were now only the two of them left.

With a sadistic grin further distorting it's obscene head, the beast now turned to Trepat and the expectation of another easy kill was giving it's eyes a deep, red glow...


----------



## Nightfall

I so love this part!  *won't say more than that.* I just can't wait until the other shoe drops.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Eve of the Taurosphinx part 4 of 4*

Suddenly, he felt a slap to his face, and heard Torn's voice:" Wake up, wake up, and stop screaming!"

Trepat looked around, and there he was, in the middle of the camp, and all his friends were still alive. Except for Torn, all of them seemed to have been asleep. In spite of the cool spring night, he was drenched in sweat- even though he was over a hundred years old, he could not remember any dream that had been even remotely as intense... It all had felt real- the wind on his skin, the way the beast had looked and he had even felt the feathers of the arrow as he let it fly...

Trying to remember all details, he told his friends about the dream. When he was done, he added:" I am most certain that this was no ordinary dream. This was different- maybe a divine warning...".

"Odd,", Niklas said,"but what you have been calling a beast looks like the Taurosphinx, the herald of Hedrada. I can not think of a reason why the herald of the Lawgiver should attack us so viciously.".

Poking a stick into the glowing embers of their campfire, Torn said:" Maybe it wasn't a divine sending. After all, someone seems to be interested in stopping us, or at least slowing us down. I think that even if we would have been aprehended in Lave for stealing that brooch it would have only cost us a few days. So, that would have delayed our progress. And now, Trepat is having this dream... Could be that it is supposed to make us afraid of going to the lawgiver's city..."

They all agreed, even though Trepat was still feeling uneasy, then Niklas said:" You know, I had a dream, too. It is not as dramatic as the one Trepat had, but maybe it does have a special meaning. I was in a corridor with many doors. Then, I heard the voice of my father calling for me. He seemed to be searching for me, since I heard doors being opened and slammed again."

Niklas sighed deeply, and then continued:" I  tried to find him myself- but whenever I opened a door, there was another corridor with lots of doors, similar to the one in which I had been. All the time, I heard my father searching for me, but I wasn't able to find him..."

Niklas fell silent. It had been years since the Black Dragoons had turned him into an orphan, but the wound had never fully healed. His friends looked at him with compassion, but none of them was able to say whether the dream had any meaning in their current situation.

Eventually, they went back to sleep. The rest of the trip down the Hornswythe was uneventful, and checking in Barel, they saw that they would have to cover the way to Lake Repose on foot. They said goodbye to Captain Yengly and the crew of the Skiprock and headed east.

In the first night, they were attacked by strange skeletons, which seemed to be animated by vines. The way it looked, it was the wines moving the skeletons and not the skeletons themselves. However, they quickly dispatched that threat. The adventurers had fought tougher foes before, and their experience and training made them far superior to those mindless monsters.

On the next day, they moved on, already forgetting about the fight of the previous night. After all, they were travelling through rather untamed wilderness- and plant-skeleton-hybrids didn't seem to be Mormo's style. It seemed much more likely that they had simply encountered one of the every-day nightmares, which was still making life so dangerous and hard for the divine races of Ghelspad.

They reached Sheer Falls just before sunset. From atop an enormous wall, the waters of  Lake Placid where thundering earthward. The soaking spray around the waterfall were shimmering in all colors of the rainbow, as the clouds suddenly blocked out the sun's light, leaving only a single shaft of light that striked at the base of the falls.

As the heroes stood and looked in awe, the waters at the base of the fall split, and an enormous form launched itself into the air. It was the Taurosphinx, which Trepat had seen in his dream. As it circled once overhead and landed with a majestic flourish at the bank of the river next to them, Trepat stood paralyzed- the memory of his dream filled him dull desperation. There was no doubt for him that resistance was futile.

The Taurosphinx's wings shook once to get rid of the water and then folded primly along it's flanks.

"I have been seeking you", it announced with a thunderous voice.

Slowly, it approached Trepat, who stood absolutely rigid. " You have been beset by illusion and nearly unmade by falsehood", it said, "You labor on behalf of the Mother of Serpents, although you know it not.".

Now it stood in front of Trepat, and with it's huge right paw, it gently touched Trepat on the forehead, who was now able to see that his entire nightmare had been an illusion. Then, it continued to speak:" The dream you have suffered was a sending, inflicted upon you by the Witch Queen's servants, that you would be disinclined to trust my good council."

Niklas was the first who summoned the courage to adress the Taurosphinx:"Herald of Hedrada, I too have had a dream, in which my father was calling for me. Dou you know the meaning?"

It nodded:" Yes, that was me. I used the voice of Hedrada, which sounds like the voice of a father to all mortals, to call for you, but the magic of the witch queen's servants had blocked me from you."

"We fear that there are servants of Mormo among the Vigilants' ranks, since it seems to be the only way that they could know about our mission..", Torn said.

"You are right. You have all been deceived. There is indeed one of the Hag's vipers amidst the ranks of the Vigils. I know not who he is, for the servants of the Witch Queen are elusive, but I know that he exists. 

"You have been send on a fool's errand- the information you are seeking can not be found in Hedrad. You were sent to the wrong place in order to ensure the Witch's servitors to get what you should seek.

"But all is not yet lost. High up in the Kelder Mountains, scattered about the peak of Mount Croiganne lie the ruins of Sky Keep. It once had been a flying fortress, but now it is nothing more than a wreckage. There you will find the Vault of Chardun, where you will find a manuscript that will tell you and the Vigils what you must know".

Meanwhile, night had fallen, and a strong wind was blowing from the south: "The children of the Serpent Mother are on their way to Sky Keep, too, but knowing the importance of what you face, my master and his brother Enkili have arranged top speed your way.

"There is a great storm stirring out at the sea. By tomorrow, it will make the Hornswythe reverse it's flow. If you hurry and get a boat, you can use this to your benefit. We can only reverse the river's flow for a short time, though, since we cannot risk the Bloodbasin grow once more and corrupt the land around it."

Seeing that the adventurers had understood, the Taurosphinx spread it's magnificent wings again:" But I have my own tasks to perform, even as you do, and I have already tarried too long with you as it is. Take to the road by dawn, and be swift! The fortune of all gods be with you!"

And with that, the Herald of Hedrada leapt into the air. Riding the growing winds, it disappeared into the nightsky, leaving the adventurers behind.


----------



## Nightfall

Yes!  Off to Sky Keep and finding more about the Amphora!


----------



## Ancalagon

Wow

Now that is pretty darn neat.  Of course, at that point I would question "well, maybe the taurophinx was just an illusion of Mormo sent to us to send us in the wrong direction", but I'm known to be too paranoid... 

Ancalagon


----------



## Nightfall

True but it's not, since it's solid and it's how this part is supposed to go Anag. (Hopefully that won't spoil too much of the module...)


----------



## Lars Frehse

*The witch is back part 1*

By the time they had returned to the Hornswythe, the wind from the south had turned into an outright storm, just like the Taurosphinx had promised. As they reached the riverside of Barel, they saw that the skiprock was still there. Captain Yengly and his crewmen were all on board, fastening the cargo to the boat and covering it all with waterproof sheets, trying to add additional protection against the elements for both the cargo and the men.

After a short negotiation, they convinced the captain to go up north to Mansk, and after some additional coins had changed hands, Yengly agreed to go during most of the night, as well. The adventurers settled down under a sheet with their back to the cargo crates and chests as they began their journey to the north.

The horserat was in the back of the boat- Ben had covered her with a sheet, too, and after he saw that the crewmen weren't feeling comfortable around it in spite of his reassurances of the animal's tameness, he stayed with here.

With the storm blowing strongly and steadily from the south, and the river's flow reversed, they moved ahead much swifter than they had on their way south, so that their lack of comfort was more than compensated by a gain of speed. However their spirits were soon dampened by the wetness creeping into everything- their clothes were permanently damp, making them shiver as they huddled under their protective sheets.

As one rainy, stormy day was followed by the next, and their mood changed for the worse, the Hornswythe river began to change as well. When they had travelled down the slow-moving, peaceful river, it had been a calm stream of grayish-blue water with a surface that gently reflected the golden sunlight. Now, however, the Hornswythe looked like a completely different river. The peacefulness had gone, and it was now in constant turmoil, and the color had changed to a dirty dark brown. Furthermore, there was something even more troubling slowly taking place- with each day, the river got redder. At first, the taint was hardly noticeable, but slowly but surely the red stain was getting stronger and stronger as the tainted water of the Blood Sea replaced the water of the Hornswyther itself.

Apart from that, one day looked like the other. Sitting in the confined spaces of the boat all day, each of them wished to be apart for awhile, while their only duty during the day was to keep out of the way of the crewmen. So being on watch at night was a pleasant change, since it at least gave them something of importance to do.

It was on one of those nights, on the third one after leaving Barel, to be more precise, that this nerve-wrecking monotony was interrupted. They had beached the boat on the muddy bank and Niklas was on watch, idly trying to keep their small fire going that they had lit with wood which they had kept dry on the boat, as he heard a sound behind him.

Turning around, he saw three Asaathi with their scimitars drawn in hand. Reacting with lightning speed, he rolled out of the way, just in time to avoid getting hit in lethal spots. Still, he was cut three times, but even though he was badly wounded, he managed to get up while he was shouting for his friends to wake up.

Immediately, they were on all their toes, ready to fight back, as Niklas was bit by one of the Asaathi. Before he could strike back, he was utterly paralyzed, standing stiff as a statue.

In spite of this, it was soon clear, that the Snakemen were no match for the heroes. Once their plan to murder the sleeping passengers of the boat was disrupted, they didn't stand much of a chance. In the end, they were defeated, and when Niklas had recovered and they were all healed, the dug out a ditch where they buried the Asaathi.

After about another week of uninterrupted storm and rain, the winds lessened, and eventually the cover of clouds tore apart and first sunrays broke through to the drenched ground. As they reached Mansk with the last bit of water that was running up the Hornswythe, the dozen days of rain and cold were just a memory of the past, and the sun was burning with the full force of sommer amidst a clear, blue sky.

In Mansk, they bid farewell to the men of the Skiprock and explored the city.

The Gravelfist Orcs had told them about this city. Set on the eastern side of the Blood Basin, Mansk had been founded by some of the human barbarian tribes from the Plains of Lede. Accordingly, it was a rather chaotic place full of wooden and even canvas structures inhabited by wild and free people. Half of the city consisted of tent camps where the semi-nomadic people, who came here to trade, lived, while most of the city dwellers weren't much more than barbarians themselves, having settled down only one or two generations ago at the most.

Still, the adventurers were used to rather rough manners from their relations with the Gravelfists, so that they were able to adapt to the local customs rather well. After a day in the city they were ready to travel on, and they went down to the harbor.

There was only one ship at the docks: the "Dojann Ahklain", a dual mastered sailing ship that belonged to a half-elven woman called Tamalaine. They booked a passage to the mouth of the northern branch of the Hornswythe, from where they would go on by foot. (Or in Ben's case, by rat.).

By noon they set sails, and the next three days offered a nice change of pace. The sky was cloudy, and the water slightly brown and a bit turbulent, but the air was clear and at last it was dry and warm. The adventurers were free to relax and take care of mundane tasks like mending their traveller's clothes or oiling their weapons and everybody cheered up. Of course they were aware that they were still in the middle of a race against the minion's of the Hag Queen, but after their speedy journey up river, they were confident that they would win.

Then, on the morning of the fourth day, the sky grew increasingly dark and oppresive, and the winds picked up again. All through the morning, captain Tamalaine was barking orders and her crew was tying down hatches, loosening sails and preparing for the worst.

As the adventurers stood on deck, Ben took them aside:" I don't want to tell the crew, they are busy enough, but I do not believe this storm is natural. As a matter of fact, it reminds me of the thunderstorm the Storm Hag had summoned when we fought at the Slitheren camp in the Blood Steppes last year...".

Noone said anything. They had all feared something to that effect ever since the weather had taken a turn for the worse in the morning.

Niklas was the first to react. He climbed up the mainmast, gripping it tight as it swung like an upside-down pendulum. Once in the crownest, clutching the rail, he stared towards the center of the storm. And there, sure enough, he caught a glimpse of a huge wild-haired female figure, flitting back and forth in the heart of the storm. And now that he saw her, he could even swear that he heard her cackling laughter amid the thunder and the lightning. 

At last, the Storm Hag had caught up with them.


----------



## Nightfall

Yes!  I love this part!


----------



## Lars Frehse

*The witch is back- part 2*

The winds got stronger, hitting the ship like a gigantic invisible fist, and all on board got whipped by the driving rain. Niklas shouted:" It's the stormhag!", and even though his voice was barely audible over the noise of the raging elements, all his friends looked to where the monk's outstretched hand was pointing, and now they saw her, too.

As the witch rode on the currents of the storm, it grew even fiercer then before. The crewmen were frantically moving on deck in a panicked effort to save the ship, and it was clear to all of the friends, that the situation was worse than during the storm that they had endured on the bloodsea the autumn before. Back then, none of the elvish crewmen had seemed bothered or worried by the tempest, so that even though none of them had any experience regarding ships, they had felt safe and sound none the less. This time it was different.

This was worse than any assault or danger they had encountered yet. There was no way for them to battle the tempest like they would battle any titanspawn, and they felt powerless to change their fate. Even the hag stayed hundreds of yards away from them, out of reach of any arrow they could shoot or any spell that they could cast. 

Torn was the first to shake the opressing feeling of hopelessness and remembering that most of their equipment was still under the badly groaning deck, he dashed down underdeck. There the creaking of the planks was even louder and he saw water pooling on the far side of the corridor. Just as he was about to turn into their cabin, he heard the banging of fists against the far door. Someone was trapped behind it!

He stormed down the rocking corridor and using his shoulder as a battering ram, he burst through the wooden door, opening a path for five grateful sailors who had been trapped behind.

On deck, Trepat started to tie himself to the mast, but as the creaking of the abused ship grew louder, he cut the rope again and turned to one of the longboats, intending to lower it with Niklas's help. As they slidded over the heaving deck, Ben screamed:" Swift Jane!". His rat was still below the now worrying tilting deck, and he ran down as well.

On the stairs, however, the ship rocked violently, and he was lifted of his feet and shot down the stairs and the corridor. Right at that moment, as he slidded down the momentarily almost vertical corridor and as he saw the water downthere rushing towards him, a huge hand shot out of the doorway to the right and grabbed him by the collar. It was Torn, who had put all their belongings into their bag of holding and who was grabbing the doorway with his right hand as he held up the halfling with his left.

"My rat", Ben said, and Torn understood immediately. Together, they went to the cabin that had been turned into an improvised stable, and the moment they opened the door, Swift Jane came running out, all her instincts screaming at her to leave the ship. Ben, who got hold of her as she turned around the corner, was taken along on her frantic sprint upstairs with Torn running after them.

Once on deck, the rat headed right for the railing, where she jumped into the foaming water without even a moment of hesitation while Ben was still clinging on to her back. He was underwater, and for a moment, he did not know whether he was on up- or downside of his horserat, to which he was clinging with desperate determination. Then, his head was up above the water again, but the high waves, the thick rain and his wet hair were obscuring his sight so that he lost view of the ship as his rat struggled to stay afloat.

His friends were still on board. While Torn and Ben had been below deck, Trepat and Niklas had succeeded in lowering one of the longboats into the water. They called out for the ship's hands to come to the longboat, but those who hadn't gone over board yet were all desperate to save the ship, which was both home and source of income for all them.

Then, as Torn fought against the rocking ship, the wind and the rain, ever inching towards his friends and the relative safety of the longboat, there was a deafening crack, louder than the thunder and the constant drumbeat of the rain on wood, and the mainmast toppled towards the back of the ship like a felled tree.

 As the mast fell, all activity on board stopped for a moment- and all eyes were fixed on the mast, all mouths were ajar, and everyone was oblivious of everything else around them. One of those who stood and watched in trance, was Captain Tamalaine. She stood motionless as the mast fell right towards her, and as it hit her and crushed her frail elvish frame in an instant, she never as much as flinched.

Now, with their captain dead, the remaining hands scrambled for the longboat that had already been lowered while other crewmembers lowered the other boat. As Torn, Niklas and some of the stronger crewmen rowed away from the quickly sinking ship, they saw how the other boat hit the surface, and then the curtain of rain and the waves which were as high as multi-story houses obstructed their view.

They had no time to regret this, though. Keeping the boat afloat was hard enough as it was. There were all in all ten men in the boat now, and as four rowed, the other six used buckets to get the rain- and lakewater out of the boat, when they weren't clinging on to the boat for their sheer lives.

Everything was water. The rain fell with such ferocity, that it ricocheted back from the watersurface and the boat, so that they were drenched from all directions, as wave after wave spilled into their boat. Soon, they had lost their sense of time along with their sense of direction. All that was left was an endless effort to stay alive: with each pull of an oar or another full bucket lifted over the railing, their arms felt heavier, but they kept on nonetheless, and they all worked in silence, with the exception of an occasional grunt or monosyllabic comment.

The hag was nowhere to be seen or heard. Apparently she had relied on the storm to do her work for her, and eventually, long after they had ceased noticing their aching limbs and backs, the storm weakened. At first, the waves got lower,  then the curtain of rain thinned, and as the storm died down, so did the rain.

Their boat rocked on the lake, which was now calm again, and occasional pieces of driftwood were the only reminders of the recent storm. Gratefully, they reclined, too tired for now to take care of their soaked clothes, bleeding hands or general injuries.

For a while, all on board were resting, and noone said a word until the sun broke through the clouds and a young blonde sailor with the hint of a mustache smiled, pointed at the first rays with his right hand and said:"Look!".

Once the sun had cut a hole through the clouds, the rest of the cover tore apart as well, and eventually they were bathed in sunlight. It was hard to imagine that only hours ago a terrible storm had almost drowned them all. But now, there was nothing left to do but row the boat to the mouth of the northern part of the Hornswythe, and navigating by the setting sun, they reached the small village there by the evening.

There were many villagers who had friends or relatives aboard the Dojann Ahklain, and there was great relief among those who saw their loved ones on the boat, as they rowed into town. The adventurers and the sailors tried to calm down those who were still worried- after all, they had seen the other boat slamming into the water, and there was a good chance the other longboat would come later.

At night, the other boat arrived, marking a time of relief and utter desperation. All in all, seven of the hands of the ship were lost, among those seven the captain. Still, the friends were all invited to stay in the homes of the survivors. The villagers considered the friends to be heroes, since nobody knew how many more would have been lost, had Torn not opened the door below deck and hadn't the others lowered one of the boats.

However, all three of them felt the sting of guilt. After all, it was their presence that had attracted the storm hag, that much was certain. No matter how many they had saved, those who had died would still be alive, hadn't Ben, Niklas, Trepat and Torn on board.

And of course, they were all worried about Ben as well. They were all certain that his horserat was a good swimmer, but the ship had sunk several miles offshore. But then, shortly before dawn, he came riding into the village. He had clung to the rat until she reached the western shore. Since they had both been soaked, he had gathered some dry wood which he lit with his flameblade-spell. There, both Swift Jane and he had remained until they had been reasonably dry, which had taken them most of the night.

Only then did he mount his rat again and rode to the village, where he had hoped to find his friends. Reunited, they slept long, recovering from the perils of the day, and after buying sufficient provisions and equipment, they headed off to Mount Croiganne- if anything, the storm had only strengthened their resolve to get to sky keep before the Witch Queen's pawns did.


----------



## Nightfall

Yeah! Go my heroes!


----------



## Lars Frehse

*The witch is back- part 3 of 4*

The mountain loomed before them. It's peak was covered in clouds, and at the uppermost edge that they could see, there was snow. There were stories among the villagers that the keep lay just over where the snow started, but everything they could tell them was vague, since none of them had been so far up there in their lifetime. Every piece of information hailed back to someone's grandfather or greatgrandmother, so each story was different from the next one.

There was one thing all villagers agreed upon, though: There was Titanspawn in the mountains. This meant that no one in the village could tell them anything about any part of the way that was further away then an hour's march.

So, they took out on their own. Soon they left all signs of the divine races behind and entered an untouched light pineforest. The fresh smell of pineneedles and moss and the soft ground made them feel grateful after all those days on the riverboat and the ill-fated Dojann Ahklain, and they only encountered Denev's creatures of the wild and there was no sign of Titanspawn to be seen.

Around noon, the wood got replaced by some steep rises and occasional green meadows. Up here, Denev had healed many of the scars of the divine war already, and the land was still unspoiled by civilization, so that they were witnesses of a beautiful scenery in which they could drink from clear, untainted mountainsprings. They marchen on well uinto the evening, without having to scale up any sheer drops. Then, they spent the night in a cave which seemed to be uninhabited, and then they continued to hike further up.

On the second day, getting up the mountain got harder. The farther they got up, the less vegetation there was and even though the air was fresh and cool, the exhaustion of scaling the sheer rock walls and hiking up steep slopes had them drenched in sweat. In the evening, they were high enough to be marching through snow, but fortunately, Ben's and Trepat's experience in the wild enabled them to find a wide crevice where they were protected from the elements as they settled in for the night.

 When they got up the next morning, they fixed a cold breakfast, since they didn't dare to attract Mormo's servants, who had to be close by somewhere or any other titanspawn, and then scaled the last part of the mountain's steep rock-face. They estimated that once they had climbed up this rock-strewn part, they should arrive at the plateau on which Skykeep had crashed.

Everything went smoothly, until there were only a few hundred yards left to climb. Torn, Trepat and Niklas were roped to each other, and Ben was tied to the back of his rat, as Ben felt how the hairs on Swift Jane's back stood up and she cocked her head slightly as she raised her snout and her ears. Then, Ben felt and heard it too, as his horserat darted behind a big rock to his right: there was a rumble in the distance and a tremor in the earth.

With a surpressed shout, he told his friends: "It's an avalanche!", and already, first stones came rolling down. Frantically, each of them sought what little cover they could find behind jutting-out rock formations and boulders which were wedged into crevaices, as more and more stones and rocks came tumbling down, ranging in size from mere pebbles to mansized rocks. As they held on with grim determination, their hands dug like claws into any opening they could find while the avalanche thundered by, louder even than the storm on the bloodbasin had been, and they all got hit by those stones from which their shielding rocks didn't protect them, and each of them received several bleeding slashes and bruises.

Then, just as it seemed that they had made it through the worst of it, Trepat got hit by a sharp rock on the head, and momentarily dazed, he lost his grip and started to tumble down, just one more mansized object in the middle of the tumbling chaos all around them. After a few feet, however, he felt the rope around him tear into his body. He was still connected to Torn and Niklas, and the Halforc and the Human had held fast even when Trepat fell down and his weight suddenly jerked at them, trying to pull them down along with his friend.

As quickly as the avalanche had started, it ended again, and after they had pulled Trepat up to them, they saw that he was badly cut and bruised, but none of his injuries seemed to be too serious for Ben to heal with his wand of healing. The halfling took care of his horserat, his friends and himself, and after he had commented on how they were running out of charges of their wands, they scaled up the rest of the steep slope.

Torn was the first who pulled himself onto the plateau, and thus he was the first to see that they had indeed reached their goal. He stood on an enormous ledge, a plateau that occupied much of the width of the mountain, except for a hill-like spur that continued upwards from this open space.

But Torn was oblivious of the spur- his eyes were feasting on the ruins of Sky Keep. Random heaps of stone, cracked masonry, shattered sculptures and other parts of the keep were lying all over the landscape, like playthings of an untidy gigantic child, and the central structure even seemed to have survived the fall of the fortress from the heavens. It was leaning on the central spur, tilted, but from what he saw, still partially intact. From what he could see, he could imagine just how vast the fortress must have been and how great the magic, that kept it afloat.

He was disturbed in his reverie when Trepat called for him. He and the others had by now reached the plateau as well. The elf sat on his heels over what looked like charred bodies of thin, leathery eight-foot tall humanoids. Among them, he now saw what Trepat was pointing at: There was a handful of badly mangled Slitheren.

Looking up to him, Trepat said:" The bodies are not stiff yet. Looks like they won the race up here by a margin.".

"Still", Ben added:" That doesn't mean that they got to the vault already. Let's go!".


----------



## Nightfall

Looks like the managed to get pass most of the guards, at least the avalanche without too much trouble. Go get em guys!


----------



## Lars Frehse

Well, as they scaled the mountain, I really skipped the random encounters there. After all, there was more than enough combat awaiting them once they were up in the ruins.

All in all, I don't really like random encounters. I think, so far in my storyhour, there hadn't been even one random encounter yet. Even the monsters they had encountered on the way had been planned- like the blade beast in the Kelders or the giant spider in the Blood Steppes.

I think that too many battles can get tedious, and they can make the important battles look like just another hack down the road, so I use them sparingly. (Usually once or twice in a session). We did play out the part when they had to scale difficult parts of the mountain, though, I thought this would be much more interesting.

Furthermore, I liked the contrast- after the storm and their struggle to stay alive, they had a rather calm stretch until they got  to the avalanche.

Don't worry though- there will be plenty of hack'n'slash in the next chapter, which will take place within the keep. Actually, there will already be combat in the next update, which I will post once I am at home.


----------



## Nightfall

Ah I see Lars. Well your the Dm so you know best. I personally liked the random wilderness encounter charts in the module. But that's just me. Certainly I'll agree, they will face a LOT of perils in side the keep.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*The witch is back- part 4 of 4*

"I'll scout ahead", Torn volunteered, and barely making a sound, he proceeded into the field of granite blocks and wall-fragments ahead. Then, just as he was about to enter the remnants of a corridor and turn out of his companions' view, four Ratmen with arrows already readied in their shortbows jumped up from behind the cover that the walls had been offering them, and before Torn could react, they let loose.

Two of the arrows bounced of his chainshirt, but the other two hit him. Wincing with pain, Torn got out his spiked chain, while Trepat shot the first of the Slitheren archers and the other two charged ahead.

Seeing that he was surrounded and that his enemies had the advantage of their heightened position, Torn stepped back a bit and swung his chain at one of the slitheren who was just then shooting another arrow, but his chain bounced off the cover.

As he doged more arrows, Ben and Niklas arrived. The monk made one giant leap up to the wall and using the momentum, he landed a flying kick to the head of one of the Slitheren, who was momentarily stunned by this display of acrobatic prowess, breaking his spine. Ben, in turn, unrolled his frogtongue, and pulled down another one.

Now, there was only one of the Slitheren left on the wall. Seeing how the tables had turned, he dropped his bow, ready to run, but Torn hit him with his spiked chain, which tore through the neck of the helpless slitheren. With one quick jerk, the half-orc freed the chain, and a fountain of blood spurted out of the Slitheren's neck, who collapsed to the ground.

Now there was only the one Ben had trapped left. The ratman swung his scimitar at Ben, cutting him, but the halfling slashed back with his sickle. In spite of being held fast by the oversized tongue, the Slitheren kept on fighting, and he showed no sign of giving up, until Niklas, who had stepped up from behind, landed one brutal punch with his fist to the ratman's head, shattering his skull in the process.

Seeing that they had defeated their enemies for now, Niklas said:" I think it would be best if we stick together for now. There could be more ambushes ahead.".

They all nodded in agreement, and proceeded cautiously. The ruins lay still around them, and again, there was no sign of any of the slitheren. Hadn't the adventurers known for sure that their enemies were up here with them somewhere, they could have sworn they were alone. The only sounds they heard was the wind blowing through and around the cracked stones all around them.

For a while, they walked through the labyrinth of the ruins, always looking out for the central spur where they had seen the intact part of the keep still standing. Then, as they were standing in front of a wall segment that was blocking their view, Ben picked up a voice from behind the wall.

Signalling his friends to be silent, he climbed onto Torn's shoulders. Peeking over the wall, he saw a plateau in front of him. The ground dipped a bit, forming a large, shallow depression beyond which the intact part of the keep was nestled against the base of the spire of Mount Croiganne.

In the center of the depression, where he could see them while he was protected from sight by the wall and the slope of the ground, there were about twenty Slitheren standing in a rough circle, scimitars and shortbows ready in their furry hands. In the middle of the circle, he saw a small cooking fire and two additional forms: one very large ratman with dark fur who was more than a head taller than any other of the slitheren and another crouched low figure who was almost completely hidden by a hooded cloak the color of old blood.

The smaller figure was leaning over a small pool of water, and she was speaking to an image of the pool. Straining his eyes, Ben could make out the face she was talking to: It was Amra Varith, the lieutenant of the Home Commander of the Vigils! She had even been present when they had received their orders in the hall of command!

Quickly recovering from the shock, Ben picked up the voice of Amra. "...at all with your current progress," she said with barely repressed anger. "Do you understand the consequence of failure here, you little rodent?"

"I understand better than you, I think", the robe-covered slitheren hissed back.

"I don't think you do. I've placed my position here in jeopardy, ensuring that you and your stupid minons would know where they are at every step of their way. Now I learn that they are not only alive, they are headed your way! They could be in the ruins right now, yet you-"

"They are", the slitheren interrupted with a hiss,"and I have better things to do than listening to your sniveling".

Before Amra could answer, she ended the conversation with gesture of her hand, and the pool lay still again. It took only another gesture for he companion and the other slitheren to fall in line and follow her into an entrance of the nearest intact part of the keep. As most of the Ratmen went into the keep, four stayed behind. Unaware of being watched, they positioned themselves behind huge chunks of granite. Apparently they planned to ambush the adventurers once they reached this entrance.

Ben had seen enough for now. He climbed back to his friends, and whispering, he told his friends what he had seen and heard.

Torn cursed under his breath:" So it was the woman! At least now we know why that thief had known who to plant the brooch on."

Trepat nodded:" Yes, it all makes sense now. We should definetly speed back to the Hall of Command once we are done here. Who knows what harm she will do in the meantime."

"Yes," Ben said. And grinning wolfishly, he added:" At least we know where the four Slitheren are hiding. They want an ambush? They will surely get an ambush...".

And as they planned how they would dispatch the slitheren, Trepat never stopped watching the Incarnate's predatory look in his eyes. For a moment, the Elf wondered just what kind of predators the innocent looking halfling had been in his prior incarnations. He didn't know that he would see one of those incarnations within the day...


----------



## Nightfall

Ooh ben showing off his wide side.  But great! They have found the Serpent! Now let's see if they can handle the minions.


----------



## Lars Frehse

And, incidentally, he got his first level in the Incarnate Prestige Class at the end of that session, so that he was able to turn into his first past-life form in the next session...


----------



## Nightfall

Cool!  So what form is he choosing then? I can't wait to see it.


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## Snoweel

Beautiful Lars, as always.

The Scarred Lands are a great setting, aren't they?


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## Lars Frehse

Glad you are still enjoying it.
The setting is really great. It offers a vastness of storytelling opportunities without being overwhelming. That the sourcebooks and adventures are a fun read helps a lot as well, of course.


----------



## LRathbun

Good job on the continuing story Lars.  Things seem to be getin' good!


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## Nightfall

Yes I am.  Believe me your players are doing a great job and so are you.


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## Lars Frehse

Thanks for your praise, guys. As I had said before, sometimes keeping up with my storyhour can be quite a hassle. It is a very rewarding experience, as well, but sometimes there is just too little time inbetween all the other things I gotta do to take care of the story hour as well. After all, there is Real Life, and I have to prepare the upcoming adventures, as well. (Even though that had been easy lately, given that I am running a module). Furthermore, writing it takes a little more time than it would do if I would write it in German. It is not much of a problem, but it means that I sometimes can't write as smoothly as I would like to.

So, I just wanted to thank you guys again for your remarks and encouragement. It really means a lot to me.

Alright, I intend to have no lag between my Storyhour and the actual sessions. This means, I have to post one chapter (three to four updates) before sunday.

So, without any further ado, Here comes "Ruins of Sky Keep, part 1"


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## Lars Frehse

*Ruins of Sky Keep- part 1*

Their plan to defeat the ratmen was as simple and effective. Trepat and Ben positioned themselves on the wall,and hiding from the ratmen's sight, they had their opponents' heads and torsos in plain view. When they were ready, Niklas and Torn went to the right side of the wall, and casting a spell Torn had learned in the Guild of Shadows, he turned invisible.

The few seconds the spell lasted were enough for the half-orc to approach the closest of the Slitheren unnoticed, and before the Ratman knew what hit him, Torn's spiked chain shot through his spine, killing him instantly. The gurgling sound of death out of the slitheren's throat worked as a starting signal for the others, and as Ben and Trepat started to fire arrows and bullets at the enemies, Niklas charged around the corner.

It was a quick battle in which the ratmen never truly had a chance. Their ambush had backfired, and in the short moments they had, they weren't able to react or even retreat into the entrance behind them. So, a few hectic moments after the battle had started, it was over again already. Relieved by how smoothly everything had worked out, they hid the bodies of the ratmen behind a rock and entered the keep.

The whole structure looked like it had been shattered even worse originally, but someone seemed to have done some crude repairs to the outerwalls: gaps in the walls had been filled in by loose stacks of haphazardly placed stone. It was obvious that whoever had done the repairs had done so with merely primitive craftmanship.

Going through a short, improvised tunnel, they entered what appeared to be the remnants of the keep's church. Stone pews, cracked and in some cases broken into tiny chunks were littering the dust-covered surface and on those walls that had survived the crash relatively intact, there were fantastic carvings of Chardun and other gods battling unseen foes.

Looking around, they found the rusted remnants of iron brackets in the floor, which had once held something very large. Kicking one of the brackets, Torn said:" Looks like the vault could have been here once".

"Yes," Niklas answered "but I wonder why there are no tracks of the slitheren in the dust. After all, they must have passed through here just minutes before us.".

Trepat made a dismissive gesture and said:" Ah, there is a simple spell called _"prestidigation"_ which is actually among the most basic of arcane magic. It would be no problem to upset the dust sufficiently to settle over your tracks once you have passed  through. And since that one Slitheren was even able to communicate to a place as far as Lave, she should be able to do the trick easily...".

Having no clue whether their enemies had passed through the irondoors to the right or through the corridor to the north, which seemed to lead to natural tunnels within the spire itself, they decided on a whim to head north.

After a short corridor, they entered a long and winding tunnel. It seemed to be mostly natural, but unseen hands had apparently widened the passage at some point or hewn steps into the rock when it was too steep. Then, after a few turns, there was one particular long and straight part of the path.

At the end of the tunnel, Trepat noticed the tip of a bow in the light of their lantern. He gestured to his friends, who's eyes weren't as well adapted to the dark as his, and trusting him, they returned around the corner.

"There is at least one archer behind the rubble at the end of the corridor", Trepat told his friends in a low voice.

Torn asked:"How far is the end from here?"

"About a hundred feet, I estimate.".

"If we still got the element of surprise, I could charge down the corridor at full speed, I am certain they wouldn't have the time to shoot many arrows before I stand in front of them. Once I am close, I should be able to see them pretty well."

"Can Slitheren see in the dark?", Ben asked.

"Don't know. But I am sure we will find out soon...".

They agreed, and Trepat and Ben decided to shoot into the enemies direction once Torn would start his sprint. "Once you have gained some ground, I will start a sunrod and come after you. I think I am fast as you are, and I should catch up with you quickly.".

Torn nodded, and then he took three deep breaths. Then, he turned around the corner, and charged at full speed down the corridor. Just as the pile of rubble came in view, he saw two Ratmen getting up on their knees and behind them two more who stood up. Each of them had an arrow cocked, and like one man, they let fly.


----------



## Nightfall

Yes!  Fight time!


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Ruins of Sky Keep- part 2*

In the narrow corridor, all arrows hit the Halforc. Fortunately, three of them got stuck in his armor and only one found a way through the chainshirt. Ignoring the pain for now, he came down upon the Ratmen like a force of nature. While his friends caught up, he kept the ratmen at bay with the chain’s superior range.

Once the Slitheren had lost the advantage of their cover, they were no match for the adventurers, and even though Niklas and Torn got wounded, they never lost control over the situation. By the time when Ben had crossed half of the corridor, looking for openings for him to shoot bullets with his sling, Niklas kicked down another Slitheren,  and there was only one ratman left standing. Already, this last slitheren was bleeding badly from the shoulder, where he had been hit by the spiked chain. Darting around with his eyes in desperation, he dropped his sword and ran down the bend of the corridor.

Torn wanted to follow suit, but Trepat layed a hand on his right shoulder:“ Don’t. We should wait for Ben to catch up. There have been too many ambushes so far. He could lead us to just another one.“

„Sure,“ the halforc answered „but I don’t want to take the chance of him telling his boss either. Those ratmen here aren’t exactly a real danger. About as trained as fresh recruits in an army... But I am certain that spellcaster and the big guy are much more of a danger.“.

As Ben had almost reached them, Trepat nodded:“ Sure. But it is not as if we would lose this Ratman, here either“. 

And as Torn followed the outstretched finger of his Elven friend, he saw a fresh trail of blood that the fleeing Ratman had left behind, and nodding in acknowledgement, he smiled. Following him would be easy, indeed.

They turned around the corner, and saw that the tunnel split into two. Here, the walls were covered in a slick, translucent slime. As they followed the trail, they were soon happy to have this lead, since the corridors were coming together in various twists and turns, forming a labyrinth.

Then, as they turned yet another corner, they stood in front of the lifeless remnants of the ratman who they had chased. He was laying facedown in a pool of blood, his killers still crouching over him, intent to feast on their victim.

The killers were small goblinoids with four arms and several facetous eyes, and all of the friends recognized them as Spider-Eyed Goblins right away. Yet, something was wrong with them- their flesh was rotting away, they all had wounds which no humanoid should survive, and they were stinking of death and decay. These goblins had ceased living long ago, and had now returned to a state of unlife.

Sensing new flesh, the zombies got up, but before they could even lay a claw on any of the friends, they were all ready chopped and hacked down. Yet, now, something was changing in the corridors. When they had entered, all had been silent here, but now the heroes could hear hectic shuffling of feet, groaning and the sound of bodies bumping into each other in a mindless, frantic run for fresh flesh coming from all directions.

Niklas, Ben and Torn took position at each of the entrances to the intersection where they were standing, and as Trepat cast a spell of mage armor on the monk, they got braced themselves for the upcoming battle, trying to shield the sorceror. 

And then they came, each of the zombies throwing themselves forward without any plan, only motivated by their mindless greed for flesh. For everyone who got his head split before he arrived, another zombie made it through, clawing and biting at their opponents. As wave after wave of the undead hit them, the heroes were soon bleeding from too many wounds to count, and their arms got heavy from swinging their weapons.

It seemed like there was no end to the number of spidereyed goblin zombies the corridors around them could spawn, and as the battle raged on, each of the friends fought his own battle against a rising feeling of panic and despair.

The smashed, cut, pierced or burnt remnants of the zombies piled up around them, and still more came. With more and more of the mindless creatures coming, and some of them squeezing through to Trepat who collapsed from the many wounds and the loss of blood, they had to change tactics. For a while, Niklas and Torn fought on alone, as Ben first took care of Trepat, and then made sure that the others would be able to keep on fighting by magically healing them.

They hardly noticed how the flood of zombies coming towards them became weaker and weaker until no new arrived anymore. They were so focused on the automatic movements of striking and dodging that they were surprised by the sudden end of the battle that was marked by Torn splitting the head of a zombie. The corridors were silent again.

For a while none of them spoke a word. They were panting heavily in the middle of the piles of reeking corpses until Torn was the first to come to life. He grunted with disgust as he kicked at the pile in front of them, and when he had made a path without having to resort to touching the dead, he said:“ The ratman headed this way. I guess we will find his boss there.“.

Stepping over the rotting flesh, trying not to touch anything, they headed down the corridor. After the first turn, when the stench had gotten less, Ben took care of their wounds before they moved on. They all had the feeling that they weren’t through the worst just yet...


----------



## Duncan Haldane

*Re: Ruins of Sky Keep- part 2*



			
				Lars Frehse said:
			
		

> *The smashed, cut, pierced or burnt remnants of the zombies piled up around them, and still more came. With more and more of the mindless creatures coming, and some of them squeezing through to Trepat who collapsed from the many wounds and the loss of blood, they had to change tactics. For a while, Niklas and Trepat fought on alone, as Ben first took care of Trepat, and then made sure that the others would be able to keep on fighting by magically healing them.*




I think one of the Trepats in that paragraph should be a Torn ;-)

Great story, Lars - any chance we could get  a  summary of the characters at the moment?  Just Race/Class/Level would be good for any newcomers.

Thanks,

Duncan


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## Lars Frehse

Thanks for the pointer! 
The PCs at the end of that adventure:

Torn: Half-Orc Rogue 3, Barbarian 1, Wizard 1*
Ben: Halfling Druid 4, Incarnate 1
Niklas: Human (Durrover) Monk 5
Trepat: Ranger 1, Sorceror 4

and Jan, who hadn't been in the last few sessions: Human Paladin 4

And I had posted the stats of the characters a while ago, here is a link to it:

http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=27433

As you can see, I have added a fuzzy herald of Denev by now.


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## Nightfall

Sounds like the boys are doing well.  Can't wait to see them in the mid-upper levels.


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## Lars Frehse

*Ruins of Sky Keep, part 3 of 4*

As they marched on, Trepat was the first to hear sounds of a fight echoing through the corridors. There was the sound of steel hitting steel and occasional shouts and screams of agony. Immediately, he started walking quicker, and as his friends heard it too and they were getting closer to the source of those sounds, they ran ahead as far as they could without losing Ben.

The light of Niklas’ lantern was shining on the walls, as they turned a corner and saw the source of the noises coming from a large cave of about fourty by fifty feet. Near the centre of this cavern, there was a hideous creature. It was an about six foot tall humanoid, who was covered in moist slime from it’s high, pointed ears to it’s long twitching tail, and who’s face was covered with a mass by a disgusting beard that was matted into clumps by the slime.

It was wielding a blood-drenched, toothed polearms against several ratmen. It looked like most of those ratmen were merely trying to distract the diabolical creature, as the huge ratman was wielding two shortswords against it and the sorceress was casting spells.

Meanwhile, several feets to the right of the battle, five other ratmen were studying and fiddling with an enormous steel-box that looked a bit like an upright giant casket, engraved with ancient writings and potent symbols.

„This must be the box!“, Niklas shouted over the noise, and as Trepat was shooting an arrow and Torn and Niklas were charging ahead, intending to stop the ratmen at the vault, something odd happened: One of the ratmen who was fiddling with the door disappeared without warning, leaving behind nothing but the clap of the air as it crashed into the space that the Slitheren had occupied.

Ben remained unaware of this, though, for he felt a part of his past coming alive. For the shortest moment, that felt like an infinity for him, he forgot the world around him and felt the memories of a life lived long ago take hold of him.

Ever since he could remember, he had had the same dreams. In those dreams, he thought, felt and lived like a spider. And never in his sleeping hours had this felt anything but perfectly natural. Of course, he had pushed those dreams aside in the morning again- after all, life in the Heteromony of Virduk hardly allowed for dreams.

So it took him till he was forced to flee from home until he did trust those dreams. By the time Iellena told him that he had alrlived many times before, it merely reconfirmed something he already knew.

Still, the memories of his past lives had been just that: memories. There was nothing Ben could do to actually live like a spider again, since he had been trapped in the body he had been reborn into.

Until now...

His mind was taken over by primal urges, as his body changed. His clothing melted into one substance with his body, and as his body bloated up and grew in size, his arms and legs changed form and four additional appedages grew out. His head got rounder, his mouth was replaced by poison-dripping mandibles and where his eyes had been, thousands of black facetous eyes were now reflecting the light of the torches and lanterns in the cave.

Within moments, he had fully transformed into a deadly, hairy hunting spider the size of a wolf.

Seeing the cave in it’s entirety now, he merely divided those within into what was prey and what was not. Dodging the fight between his friends and the ratmen to his right, and the fight of the devil versus the huge slitheren, he charged directly at the spellcasting Slitheren.

She had been supporting the dual shortsword wielding Slitheren by casting spells, but by now, she had refocused her attention to Trepat, who was attacking her with Magic Missiles. When the Spider attacked here, she was completely taken by surprise.

Ben sank his fangs into the Red Witch’s leg and injected poison into her bloodstream. Weakened and surprised, the Slitheren backed away, and after casting a quick spell she turned invisible. Ben would have lost her, but his newly gained spider senses were far superior to those of his halfling body. Concentrating on the vibrations of the floor, and the subtle shifting of the air, he had an idea to where she had backed up, and so he turned around and thrust his body forward with the full strength of his eight legs.

He saw nothing, but as he smashed into the invisible Ratwoman, he knew that trusting his instincts had been right. She turned visible again, and casting another spell, magic missiles appeared and smashed into Ben’s body. But his senses were focused on his prey, and so he bit at her again, merely missing by an inch.

Meanwhile, Ben’s friends had defeated some of the Ratmen, while the devil had dispatched the others. The woman cast another spell at Ben who bit at her in turn, again, but just then the devil impaled the large ratman with his glaive, and his evil laughter echoed through the cave. This was enough for the woman- she touched a ring on her left hand with her right hand and disappeared, the sound of air clapping indicating that this time she wasn’t merely invisible but had vanished alltogether.

Looking at the devil, he decided that he didn’t want to bite into the fiend, and as easily as he had turned into a spider, he now changed back into his halfling form. As he did, he saw how Trepat’s magic bounced off the devil without showing any effect, Torn held his magical mace in both arms and how Niklas, who was bleeding from several wounds, picked up one of the shortswords of the dead Slitheren.

Then the devil made a dismissive gesture, and the Ratman, who was laying behind Niklas, rose again, oblivious to the many wounds he had received. Ben shouted to Niklas, who turned around just in time to see the newly risen Zombie slamming his fist at him. Niklas dodged the blow, and kicked at the ratman who was almost double his mass, but it wasn’t enough to bring it down, and as the Zombie swung his other fist with brainless efficiency at him, he wasn’t quick enough to dodge, and as he crashed to the floor, everything turned black around him.

Meanwhile, Ben had approached the monk, but now he saw that there was no time for him to heal the monk, and so he summoned a flameblade and got ready to fight the undead opponent. He dodged a clumsy strike and hit the zombie, which didn’t care to defend itself, cutting a nice chunk of dead flesh out of it, and then two magic missiles, cast by Trepat, smashed into the undead’s skull, letting it explode and covering Ben in blood and pieces of brain.

The battle wasn’t over yet, though. The devil looked badly wounded, but so did Torn, who was fighting the fiend. The halforc was swinging at his supernatural opponent with all the fury that the blood of Khadum in his veins instilled in him, but Ben saw that he wouldn’t make it much longer.

Dodging the devil’s glaive, he approached Torn from behind. Trepat, who had seen by now that both his mundane arrows and his arcane spells had remained harmless against the fiend had drawn his magical sword and was now approaching as well. He seemed to be ready to face the devil in hand to hand combat, even though he knew that he wouldn’t last half as long as the halforc.

By now Ben had succeeded in magically closing some of Torn’s wounds, and he fought on relentlessly, and then, just as Trepat had approached, he hit the devil square in the middle of it’s chest, caving it in. The devil screamed with an unearthly voice that seemed to be made of pure hatred, and then he disappeared, leaving behind only his blood and the smell of sulphur.

Torn looked around, the rage that had fueled him slowly being substituted by exhaustion. All their enemies had disappeared or were dead and Ben was taking care of Niklas, who was already regaining conciousness. Glancing warily at the vault, he realized that his work here wasn't done just yet.


----------



## Nightfall

Nice job guys! Especially ben! What kind of spider is he?


----------



## LRathbun

Any update coming soon?


----------



## Lars Frehse

I want to post an update by tomorrow. I have just been to the Netherlands for a week, visiting the Itsman, so there hadn't been any updates during this period. But tomorrow I want to finish the chapter and post the rest during the week. That would sum up the adventure then, as well.


----------



## Nightfall

Figured that would be the case since they now have what they came for.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Ruins of Sky Keep - part 4 of 4*

„Alright then,“ he said „ I think it would be best if you would leave me some space. The ratmen who were fiddling with this vault have disappeared. Maybe the trap just teleports you into the sky, so that you plummet to your death...“.

Trepat took of his backpack, and after rummaging through it for a while, he held three scrolls in his hand. He handed one of them to Torn: „This is a scroll of featherfall. If you really find yourself in the sky, falling towards the earth, you should cast it. You will fall gently like a feather then.“

Torn took the scroll and then Trepat continued:“ I will also cast two spells on you which will make you smarter and more dextrous for a while. I think you can use it.“

Ben and Niklas waited as Trepat cast the spells and then, after wishing Torn good luck, they retreated to what they considered a safe distance, where they watched as their friend started to carefully examine the vault.

As he went to work, Torn forgot everything around him, and the vault became the monothilitic center of his universe. The runes on the vault were apparently runes of protection, some of them summoning the force of Chardun, the god of binding for further divine strength. The lock seemed to be complicated, but he was confident that he could pick it. But the real problem wasn’t mechanical in nature, but magical. No matter how well he would pick the lock, that wouldn’t help him against the magical protection, which would teleport him to Erias knows where...

The only way for him to overcome the lock would be to somehow block the magical trap without setting it of. He took another look at the lock. It seemed to be made of an alloy of lead and iron and there was a connection between it and the runes, with a small gap between the lock and the frame. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he searched through his pack, where he found a crossbowbolt made from the same material. If he would succeed in blocking the magical trap by wedging the bolt between lock and trap correctly, he should be able to open it. If the trap was triggered to the proximity of that alloy, that was... It was a long shot, but there was nothing else he could do.

He used the back of his hand to wipe his forehead, which was sweaty in spite of the cold air in the cave, and holding his breath, he inserted the bolt into the space between vault and lock. For a moment he thought he had trembled too much and not inserted it evenly, but nothing happened: neither did he find himself in the fires of hell nor in an endless blue sky- he had succeeded.

The rest was easy. He used some pitch to make sure that the bolt would stay even if he opened the door, and then he set to work on the lock. It was truly complicated, but now that he could take his time and didn’t have to worry about being taken to a possibly deadly place, he started to work on the lock with an air of confidence.

After a while, surrounded by his friends, he had succeeded, and pulling the door, he opened the vault that now, more than ever, looked like an upright giant coffin. They almost expected to find a carcass in there which fitted in size to the coffin, but as the door swung open, they saw that the vault was almost empty.

In it, there was only a small pedestal on which a large tome was resting. The tome itself was bound in burgundy velvet and locked with an iron clasp. Inspite of the rough end of sky keep and the passage of many years ever since, it looked as if it had been placed on the pedestal merely minutes ago.

Torn wasn’t sure about any further traps, and so he scanned the vaultfloor, the pedestal and the book first, and only when he felt certain there was no trap, he picked it up to study the lock. He found no way to open it, and handed it to Trepat who found out that powerful magic was keeping the book close. „Definetly too powerful for us“, the elf said „ but I would bet that the Vigils have the means to get it opened.“.

Now that they had the book, they talked for a while and decided to take a look at what where the opposite corridor lead first. Even though they were tired and hurt, they would probably never climb up here again, and having defeated the Slitheren, there should be no harm in exploring the ruins, after all.

They found further caves, of which most were empty. Then, as they turned a corner, they stood in front of a cavern that was completely covered in green phosphorescent slime, which was flooding the cave in a sickly light. In the slime, they saw remnants of leather, bones and metal, which were being dissolved by the slime as they were watching.

Several humanoids were being dissolved right now, and it looked as if for some reason they had been dropped into the slime in the middle of the cave, not too long ago. There were bits of fur as well, and soon they realized that those were indeed the remnants of slitheren.

„I think this is where the ratmen had been displaced to.“, Niklas said, looking Torn, who was staring at the slime.

The Halforc swallowed and pulled out the scroll of featherfall which he handed over to Trepat: „ I think you can have it back now. It wouldn’t have done me much good after all...“.

Except for one place, they found nothing more of interest anywhere. However, there was one cave where a strange scar-covered humanoid creature that shot sinews from it’s arms and mouth threatened them. It wanted the scroll, and just as the others were about to turn, Ben attacked it with his sling. The being pulled itself under the ceiling of the cavern, some 40 yards over the floor, from where it shot it’s sinews at Ben and Trepat and using it like a form of infernal fishing rod, started to pull them upwards with the hooks set into the friends’ flesh.

Torn used a scroll that allowed him to climb the walls like a spider, and hanging upside down, he approached the fiend. It dropped Ben and Trepat, who crashed to the ground and fought Torn, but the halforc hit it square in the chest, so that it lost it’s grip on the ceiling and crashed to the floor, where he remained, twisted and lifeless.

They tended to their wounds, and then, after finding nothing but empty caves and castle structures, they went back to the plateau.

There, Swift Jane had been feasting on the cadavre of one of the ratmen they had killed there. As the others turned away in disgust, Ben petted her and then, looking at the remaining three corpses, he came up with an idea.

„I think I could skin them. There should be enough fur intact for a coat and a cap. And maybe I could use the skulls for bowls...“

Niklas was flabberghasted: „ What? Are you insane? These were feeling and concious beings!“

„ I don’t see any difference between _sentient beings_ and animals. Furthermore, they are dead anyway, so I might as well make their death more useful.“

„But I thought halflings were more civilized!“, Niklas offered.

„ The Gravelfists took me into their tribe, so I am an orc. And I like the fur of these here, so I see no reason why I shouldn’t use them. You weren’t above drinking from a skull there after we had defeated the Proud, either. I will do it.“.

Trepat shrugged: „ Well, it is alright with me. But you know that once you are wearing a coat and a cap made from slitheren fur, there is no chance we will ever encounter ratmen peacefully again.“

Ben, who had already started to skin one of the Slitheren, looked up: „They always attack us, anyway. Slitheren-fur coat or no.“

Now Torn interjected: „ The brood of Golthain didn’t attack us. They even helped us.“

„Yes, I suppose so“, Ben answered „but they are blind, so it doesn’t matter with them.“.

Seeing that there was no chance to change Ben’s mind, the others gave up. They made camp in the entrance of the caves before the peak in their back threw it’s mighty shadow at them and it turned night. Then, they went asleep- they would start their descent at first light of the morning and so they were eager to get as much sleep before that as was possible.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Serpent in the fold- part 1*

As the spider went after her relentlessly, Tears of Her Enemies grew anxious. Behind the spider which had been a harmless halfling just a few minutes ago, she saw that Spineback, her companion both in battle and under her blanket was fighting a losing battle against the Barbazu and her other followers, who had intended to open the vault, were being defeated by the followers of gods who had found them up here, in spite of all their precautions.

She felt the spider's poison weakening her, and swearing revenge, she left her friends and followers, and touching the ring Hielaa had given to her, she wished herself to the base of the mountain.

Suddenly, she was out of the damp cavern and away from the battle, and she fell from a height of ten feet into brushes under her. She brushed herself off, and looking around she saw that it was only noon outside. Only a few hours ago, everything looked as if she would hold the tome in her hand any minute now, and now this: Defeat.

Tears of Her Enemies sat down, and while she was massaging her hurt limbs and her tail was twitching as if it had a will of her own, she contemplated her option. There was no point in returning to her superiors empty-handed- she would end as a sacrifice to the Witch Queen at best, and even though she was a devoted follower of Mormo, her will to live was still strong. It was all Amra's fault, she thought, slamming a fist into the ground. While she, Tears of Her Enemies, the red witch, was endangering her life here in the field, the Lady of Serpents was playing it safe among the other humans.

The red Witch spit out. They shouldn't have relied on humans in the first place. No matter where they pledged their allegiance, they were just too unreliable. Amra had promised that none of the groups the Vigilantes sent out would achieve anything. And yet here she was, last survivor of her troop, and the godspeople up there were probably holding the tome in their hands already.

But not all was lost just yet, Tears of Her Enemies told herself. After all, she had been given the command over the troop because she was flexible and creative. Think! She told herself. There must still be a way to get hold of the document.

It was then that the Slitheren took the time to look around. Above her, in the west, she saw the towering mass of Mount Croiganne and ahead of her, down some slopes, there was the Blood Basin, laying calmly like a gigantic mirror in the sun. She shaded her eyes with her hand and looked down to the lake, searching for anything that could be an advantage for her, until she spotted a small cluster of houses at the point where the northern branch of the Hornswythe River was running into the Blood Basin.

If her enemies wanted to travel back to Lave either on horseback or on boat, they would have to go to that village. There was no other settlement nearby, and there were many dangers for the divine folks in this region, so that they would most likely prefer to leave these ragged hills behind and return to Vesh.

Tears of her Enemies was still in pain and feeling sluggish because of the poison, but at least she knew what she had to do now. When she had scaled the mountain, she had noticed signs and hints that indicated many titanspawn living here in the hills and mountains. If she could find some of them and convince them to help her, she would have a chance. Of course there was no guarantee that who or whatever she would find wouldn't kill her right away. But she was ready to take the chance.

She spent the rest of the afternoon looking for a cave to sleep in, and on the next morning, she took two potions, which restored her health and weakened the poison, so that she had at lest the strength to go searching for possible allies.

Meanwhile, the heroes were descending from the mountain. They had had a good night's sleep and were no coming back the way they had come up. This didn't make it easier, though. In fact, some of the steeper parts of the climb looked even more daunting when you were looking down, seeing the next plateau far, far below you than when you were looking up.

Still, they got down, slowly but surely, and on the second evening of their descent, they were already happily talking of sleeping in a bed in the village down below on the next night. By the time it took them to reach the little pinewood that seperated the last slope from the village, the sun was already setting to the west, Mount Croiganne's mighty shadow covering everything in darkness. 

Jan was the first to notice that something seemed wrong. In the low hanging clouds above them, he saw the hint of an orange glow. Yet, the clouds were too low for the sun to be reflected in them, so apparently there was a source of light somewhere else. He told his friends and now that they stood still and looked up, they caught the scent of smoke mixed with the smell of the pinetrees around them.

Their view was still blocked by the trees around them, so they decided that one of them would have to climb up. "I would like to go up," Torn said "but I doubt that the trees would carry my weight if I went up to the top".

Ben looked at the trees, and seeing that they were really rather thin, he unstrapped his backpack and dropped it on the moss- and needle-covered forest floor. Focusing on his memories of his life as a spider, he climbed up with the slow and exact movements of a spider. Up there, he saw the source of the fire. The forest ended after a few hundred yards, and beyond that, maybe two miles from where they were, he saw two bonfires burning side by side. He hardly saw anything else, but from what he remembered, he was rather certain that the fires were burning in the village where he had caught up with his friends after the storm.

He climbed down and told his friends, who started to speculate right away. Maybe the village was under attack? Maybe some Mormo-worshippers were laying a trap for them, or maybe the villagers were simply celebrating a local holiday? But all speculation got them nowwhere, and so they proceeded to the edge of the forest.

There, they could all see the two fires now. Between them and the village there were only a few fields, and they had a good view. Squinting his eyes, Trepat said:" I think I can see two humanoids in front of the fires... If I am right though, those must be giants: they are larger than the huts there.´"

"Maybe Torn and me should scout ahead", Niklas said.

The others agreed, and soon the monk and the rogue were using haystacks and other obstacles as cover to get nearer to the city. As they got closer, they were able to confirm what the elf had said. There were indeed two giants standing in front of the bonfire in the village square, and each of them had the height of a two story house. When they had almost reached the perimeter of the village and the animal pens, they got a good view on the giants.

They were massive humanoids with bulging, distorted musculatures which were constantly spasming and twitching, seemingly causing the giants pain. They looked like they had much more muscles than their bodies had been originally designed for, and their right arms were ending in a completely oversized fist, making it look like a huge battering ram.

The giants were standing in what looked like a pen, surrounded by a wooden fence. In the pen, with the giants, there were many smaller humanoids. Niklas stood up to get a better look, and now he saw that the smaller humanoids were indeed the women and children of the village who were fearfully pushing against the wooden fence, trying to keep as far away from the giants as possible.


----------



## Nightfall

First of all, I have to make the comment on Ben. Skinning the ratman!? Geez...Well I hope he doesn't expect too many others to be as appreciative...I was a little shocked that Tears made it, but good for her!  Another enemy to deal out retribution later.

But my last comment, SURGED Giants!  I hope the guys don't mind taking a beating...


----------



## Lars Frehse

When Ben's player announced that he would skin the Slitheren now, I, like all the other players, went slackjawed. This was definetly one of the moments when something happened I wouldn't have considered happening in a million years.
Right now, he still has to find someone to actually tailor the skins into something useful for him... Let's see what will happen then...


----------



## Nightfall

Yep that WOULD be interesting.  Can't wait to see the tailor's reaction.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Serpent in the fold- part 2*

Before Niklas could duck down again, he and Torn heard the sound of a whistling arrow which was flying towards them. As they turned around, Torn noticed that the arrow had landed just a few yards away from them and that there was a piece of paper wrapped around it's shaft.

He grabbed the arrow, and as he returned to his friends, he read the letter to Niklas, who was walking next to him.

_Good day again,

as you can see, we hold the villagers hostage. If you want them to live, one of you shall go ahead and hand over Chardun's tome on the market square. If you do not comply, each and everyone of the villagers will die. We will start by killing the mothers in front of their children and then let the fathers watch their children die before they, too will die. This means that unless you hand over the tome, their blood will be on your hands.

Any attempt to fool us will result in the villagers' death as well. Decide quickly, for we will start killing one hostage with each hour that passes within one hour.

Tears of Her Enemies_

For Tears of Her Enemies, everything had worked out even better than she would have dared hoping for. She had succeeded in winning over the pair of Surged Giants who were living in the hills. She knew that it would take the giants only one swing with those oversized fists of theirs to kill her in an instant, but she succeeded in winning them over. Apparently, the pair had wanted to attack the village for quite a while, but they were afraid of the watchmen's arrows and pikes. So she walked ahead, protected by an invisibility spell, and casting sleep spells at the village's defenders they took the village by surprise. From then on, locking away the men and finding a new use for the fences around the village to put the weaker hostages on display for anyone who approaches had been easy.

When she had discovered one of her hated enemies next to town, she slightly raised from her position on a roof and shot the arrow with the message into his vicinity. She watched him and the halforc returning back to the edge of the forest with the arrowthen, and she knew that they had taken the bait.

Half an hour later, she saw the Paladin of Corean coming down the path between the fields, his shining armor glowing with the red light of the fire in her back. There was none of the others of his group with him and when he was standing merely ten yards from her, she signalled him to stop. In her back, each giant was holding up one woman in his functioning hand, and they were waiting for her signal to squish them in their hands, the way a human would squish a tomato.

"I think there is no need to waste time with any formal talk", she hissed, smiling gleefully at the expression of worry in the human's face:" Hand over the tome, and the villagers will live.".

"The giants should put the women back to the ground first!"

Tears of Her Enemies was infuriated. What was this human thinking, giving orders to her, a proud woman of the Red Witches? It was time to teach him a lesson in humility. After all, they had more than enough hostages, so that one more or less wouldn't matter. She raised her left hand over her shoulder and snapped her fingers.

Recognizing the signal, one of the giant's faces was further distorted by a sadistic grin. He pressed his hand, and amidst the sound of cracking bones and her screams of agony, he pressed until her intestines exploded and her head fell of like a doll's.

By that time however, Ben tumbled out of the air in the middle of the pen, and then Niklas appeared, who kicked at the giant's leg. At the same time, Jan drew his sword, moving forward to attack Tears of Her Enemies, and Torn charged around the corner of one of the huts.

In spite of the surprising development of things around her, Tears of Her Enemies was ready. She knew that the godsfollowers were likely to react irrationaly, and so she was able to cast a quick spell just before the Paladin could reach her. Three magic missiles hit Jan, but he ignored the magical effects crashing in him, and focusing his divine wrath, he hacked at the red witch, wounding her severly at the shoulder.

Meanwhile, Niklas landed two more punches against the giant in front of him, who roared up in pain and then smashed the monk with his fist. Niklas rolled with the punch, but still, even though he was able to dodge the fist itself, it's knuckles caught him in the side, and as he heard a sickening, crunching sound from his chest, he felt how all air was knocked out of him and he tasted blood in his mouth.

As the other giant rampaged through the village's women and children around him, killing at random, panic broke out. The  women and those children old enough desperately climbed the fence, some of them holding up their toddlers or dragging other children along them. The screams and wailing drowned all other sounds and flooded all senses like a frantic cacophony. Then, on one part were several women were trying to climb the fence at once, the wood gave away, crashing outward and immediately all survivors in the pen streamed towards the opening, oblivious to what they were trampling over underfoot, as if they were a mass of water that had been held back by a dam which had now broken.

By then, Niklas had Tears of her Enemies with her back against a remaining wall. Her only route of escape had been blocked by Torn, so she cast a spell of invisibility again. Torn slashed his chain at where she had disappeared, but his metal hit nothing. At that moment, however, Jan noticed how the dirt of the ground was moved. Guessing that it had been caused by the Red Witch who had dodged the chain, Jan thrusted his sword at where he expected her to be, and with grim satisfaction, he felt how his blade hit on resistance for a moment, only to penetrate it. Then, he saw blood running down the blade, and a second later the Slitheren got visible again: impaled on his sword like a fish on a stick, ready to be held over the fire. Looking up, he saw that her toothy mouth stood open, and her dead eyes still had the look of surprise to them.

Niklas and Ben kept on fighting, unaware of the fleeing villagers around them. While Niklas concentrated on avoiding the giant's brutal fist, Ben kept on healing him whenever he was hit. Then, as the other giant stepped over the fence, going after the killers of the Slitheren, Niklas jumped up and rammed his fist deeply into the giant's abdomen. Surprisingly, the skin, which was already way too tight over too many muscles ripped open and the Surged Giant watched helplessly as his intestines spilled out, covering both Ben and Niklas in stinking blood and gore.

The dying giant fell backwards as his mate reached Torn and Jan. He hit Jan, and as if he were nothing more than an empty can, he smashed the armor, leaving the knocked out Paladin in his now useless armor on the ground. Now, it was only Torn left. The Halforc attacked the giant, cutting open an arm of his opponennt and then he braced himself for his opponent's answer.

At one of the larger houses, the door burst open and the villager's men, hollow-eyed and weakened after having been locked in there for two days now, came out. Immediately, they headed for their homes, where they would pick up their bows. Torn didn't have the chance to watch their escape, though. The giant's fist came at him with unearthly speed and as he was punched into the ground, several bones snapping, a merciful darkness embraced him.

Niklas was heavily wounded, but he saw no other chance to gain time for his two dying friends, and so he tumbled to the remaining giant and hit him in the leg. He focused all his attention at his superior opponent as the giant, unexpectedly, turned away and ran. The loss of his mate and the witch was too much for him, and even though he was dimly aware that he could take many more of those pesky smallish people with him, he keenly remembered the pain of arrows hitting him when he had approached the village in the past.

As the giant ran away, all in the village forgot their many losses for a while. There would be time and need for grief and desperation later- now all those who could shouted and screamed as the basic animal joy of having survived took hold of them.


----------



## Nightfall

Sweet! They beat up the Surged Giants!


----------



## Lars Frehse

Oh, Nightfall, I am sorry I forgot to answer your question regarding Ben's Spider Form! In this form, he is a medium sized hunting Spider, as it is presented in the Vernim appendix of the first MM.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Serpent in the fold- part 3*

Niklas looked around, at the dying bonfires, the gigantic corpse in front of it and the villagers: men who were embracing their women and children again, and mourning men at the bodies of their dead wives or both men and women weeping at the remnants of their children. It had been a close call, he thought, and one more hit from the giant, and Niklas would most likely be as lifeless as the other dead now, but their plan had succeeded in the end. 

After he and Torn had brought the message back to their friends, they had worked out a plan. Torn had sneaked into the village, protected from all eyes by his cloak of elven kind. But before he had set of into the darkness of the evening, he had given Niklas a potion.

It had been the priceless potion of invisibility that Brother William had given to Torn at what appeared to have been a completely different life now, back when they had left Durrover city. Then Ben, who was the only one small enough to do it, had crawled into their bag of holding, disappearing into the tiny pocket dimension and after picking up the bag, he had drunk the potion, turning invisible.

Still invisible he went into the village, and mustering all his physical prowees, he had jumped over the six foot tall fence into the pen. The moment Jan had attacked Tears of Her Enemies, he had emptied the bag, spilling Ben onto the floor and had sprung into action himself.

Now, after the battle, Ben took care of the injured, and with the help of his wands, he brought Torn and Jan. Jan back to conciousness, and he then proceeded to take care of the villagers, but for seven women and four children, all help came too late.

Each of the friends was painfully aware that again they had brought pain and misery upon the friendly people of this village. And again, the villagers were unaware of this and celebrated them like heroes. Their victory felt hollow, but still they accepted when one of the fishermen offered them to take them over to Mansk on the next morning.

There isn't much to say about their journey back to Lave. They identified a magical ring which they had torn of the cold dead hand of Tears of Her Enemies and found out that this insignificant looking item was indeed a rather powerful treasure: It had the power to store magical spells that had been cast upon it so that anyone could use them again.

Many days, first on their trip to Mansk and later on a riverboat down the Hornswythe, they discussed the many possible uses of the ring, and how they could get the biggest advantage out of it. It kept their minds from lingering too long on the many horrible events of the last days and weeks and kept them busy when there was nothing for them to do but waiting while they were being taken to Lave.

On the last day of their journey, however, when they were merely hours from Lave, something else captured their attention. To the south, behind the rolling hills where they expected to find the capitol of Vesh, they saw a thunderstorm brewing. And from all they could tell, this was no natural storm. Instead, it looked like the ones they had witnessed when the Storm Hag had appeared...

As the first fat raindrops fell from the darkening sky above them, creating single, isolated circles in the surface of the river, they urged the crewmembers of the riverboat on to go faster down the meandering river. The sailors were as eager as they were to get home to Lave, but still it took them hours until they finally turned around a bend and they saw the harbor of Lave in front of them.

Meanwhile, the day was as dark as night, and they saw crimson lights beyond the citywalls, indicating fires in the city itself! From the skies, lightning and fire was raining down, and occasionaly, they saw gargantuan dark shapes moving in the cover of the clouds. On the walls, vigilantes, priests and wizards were returning the fire, shooting fire, lightning and arrows skywards.

The rain was pouring down, and the boat had barely reached the pier, as several refugees pressed forward, offering gold and jewelry for a place on their boat, pleading with the crewmembers to take them away. In all this confusion, fighting against the stream of refugees who were pushing out of the gates towards the harbor, the friends fought on to make it to the gates.

They stopped several refugees, who were all panic-stricken. "Don't you know?" a wildhaired man with a crazed look in his eyes shouted at them:" Dragons! There are Dragons! We are all going to die!"

Other too told them of horrible news: There were Snakepeople and Ratmen in the city itself, torching the houses, why dragons, hags and other titanspawn were raining down death from above. If they wanted to live, they should better run!

But for the heroes, running away was no option. They needed to get to Amra Varith- the gods knew what damage she could do in a situation like this, with the Home Commander himself trusting her...

They passed the city gates, which stood open and blackened, twisted and cast aside by a mighty force and the corpses of two dead city guards lay nearby, as blackened and twisted as the gates they had once guarded. From there on, they headed straight to the Hall of Command, as people were running around, some extinguishing fires which were burning at several points in spite of the heavy downpour, others were fleeing from small bands of titanspawn, Slitheren and Asaathi mostly while others, guards and stronger townspeople were facing those invaders in the alleys and streets where they found them.

As they got closer to the Hall of Command, the streets got emptier, though, and soon all they heard was the far away thunder and the staccato of the rain hitting on the pavement. Niklas, as soaking wet as his companions with his hair clinging to his balding skull in wet patches and his robe sticking to his body, stopped them for a while, and speaking loudly over the rain, he said:" It looks like the Titanspawn are drawing the defenders away from the Hall of Command!"

"Let's go then!", Torn shouted and they ran up the wet and slippery roads to the hill on which the hall of command was standing. The doors of the former lavish manor house were closed, but not locked, and the friends burst into an empy Foyer.

There was a massive staircase directly opposite the entrance doors, and right after they slammed the double doors closed behind them, Torn noticed that the dark green rug was soaked with blood in the middle, and there was a trail of blood leading to the watercloset to the right of the stairs.

He motioned his friends to remain silent, and after pointing at the blood trail he went to the closet's door. After his friend had taken position to attack whatever may lurk therein, he jerked open the door. Once the door was open, the two corpses of the guards which had been shoved into the closet fell outwards, one with his throat slit and the other stabbed multiple times from behind.

They didn't need much time to recover from the shock. Hunkering down, Niklas discovered that there was a second trail leading away from the corpses. Apparently, whoever had killed the two guards had taken some blood with him.

The trail lead them upstairs, through secret doors, some rooms and more stairs up into one of the towers of the mansion. They climbed up into the tower, and on the second landing, they made a horrible discovery. As the lightning outside sent it's white light into the tower, making a snapshot of the moment that was underlined by the rumbling thunder, the heroes stumbled over the still bleeding but quite dead bodies of two Veshian guards.

Rain was drumming against the picture windows as more lightning cracked through the sky. The guards were obviously killed very recently, with precise striked of a short blade to vital areas. Blood was tracked further up the staircase by delicate, booted feet, like those of an elf or slight human woman. Jan said one word, and it summed up what they were all thinking:" Amra!".

They ran up the last stairs, taking two and three steps at a time, and as they reached the top of the tower they found themselves in an attic where large furniture, statuary and the like was stored. It all looked ghastly in the shifting lights of the thunderstorm around and above them, and there was a doorway with iron door which was standing wide open that lead to a vault.

In the middle of the vault, that was full of chests and glass displays with strange artifacts, Home Commander Kelemis Durn was laying in a pool of his own blood. Behind him, in front of an opened display, Amra Varith was just flinging a backpack over her shoulder. She was about to jump over the body, giving it no more heed than any inanimate object, as she noticed the men coming up the stairs. Her eyes lit up and she grinned like a cat that was ready to play and drew her two swordshorts, confidently stepping forward to meet her enemies.


----------



## Nightfall

Amra  = "Jump Around" and "Bring da Noise"

The gang = "Another One bites the dust."


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## Talix

*Woohoo!*

Hey there Lars, I've been enjoying your storyhour for a while now, and just caught up to the present.

I especially like the background you've painted for this encounter - the lightning and storm is very exciting and lends a really intense mood to this fight.  Great job!


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## Nightfall

*hates to spoil it...but...* That's the way the adventure is designed. Lars just was kind enough to hype it up.


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## Lars Frehse

Thanks for your comments, and I am especially glad to see a new face here, too, Talix.
Well, the final part is supposed to take place during a thunderstorm, and I merely focused on it quite a bit. Glad you are enjoying it, though.
Unfortunately, I wrote the final update for this chapter at work, and there was a glitch when I sent it home. Since I have this week of, I won't be back to work till tuesday. This, in turn, means that I will post the next update on tuesday, but by then I will be able to several updates on a daily base, since I am already writing the newest chapter.
I hope you guys can wait this long.


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## Talix

Hey, whenever you want to post, we'll be here.


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## Kiracat

As long as Talix has spoken up, I'll add my kudos . . . You've made some excellent, excellent tales!  When I got the Mithril book, I recognized some skeletons for a couple of your plot ideas (for those who don't know, the Mithril book contains some EXTREMELY BRIEF plot suggestions, which a DM has to flesh out to suit his interpretation of the world and his party's level and interests - this makes for some extra work on the part of the DM, but the story created will be unique).  You made these little plot "suggestions" into extremely compelling stories for your players!  And for your readers, too!  I LOVE the unexpected directions you've gone with them.  Thanks for posting them, so we can see how some of these play out in the hands of a creative DM . . . . your players are obviously very, very lucky!


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## Lars Frehse

Thank you very much. I am very glad to hear that you are enjoying it.  

I will do my best to keep entertaining you.


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## SSS-Druid

Heya, Lars.

Definitely looking forward to the final confrontation with Amra. It has been quite a thrill reading through this telling of an adventure I co-wrote - quite satisfying, let me tell you.


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## Lars Frehse

Thank you, Joseph. I will be able to post the final confrontation by tomorrrow. Then, the next chapter will pick up and tie up some lose ends of Torn's biography, and after that, the Serpent Amphora cycle will continue. (Since I haven't updated this for a week, I feel obliged to give you guys at least a brief preview. )


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## Lars Frehse

*Serpent in the Fold- part 4 of 4*

She moved forward to block the entrance way, so that only man could face her at a time. Jam was the first to step forward. As Ben was transforming into his spiderform in the back, Amra slashed at the Paladin with both her short swords. Her right sword found a gap in his armor, and apart from the immediate pain, Jan felt weakened. He struck back, but merely inflicted a light fleshwound on her elbow.

As Torn now stepped into the way, Niklas jumped up, and using the small space between the doorframe and the woman, he saltoed over her, and was now standing behind her. Amra thrust the sword that hadn't drawn blood yet at the passing monk, and she hit him as well, poisoning him.

However, Torn hit her, and this time, she got wounded in the leg. Realizing that her position was precarious now, she thrust both her swords at the halforc. However, he had summoned a magical shield, which deflected her swords. With the monk in her back, she suddenly realized that there was no point in fighting on. Wheeling past Torn, she tumbled towards the large picture window, and sending a shower of shards out with her, she bursted through it, falling down to the roof below, where she landed in the crouched position of a cat on the wet surface.

A moment later, Torn was behind her. As the lightning cracked through the skies again and the thunder exploded all around them, he jumped down the three stories between towerchamber and roof, his spiked chain whirling over his head.

The moment he reached her, he let the heavy anchored end of the chain shoot towards the traitor. Amra hadn't gotten up to a fully upright position, as the sharp anchor-like weight shot into her back. Crying out in pain, she lost the footing beneath her and slid down the angled roof.

Before she could grab anything, she was already falling down over the edge of the roof. As quickly as he dared on the slippery surface, Torn went to the edge where she had fallen down. There she saw her, as the rain was pouring down and the lightning flooded the scene in white light: she had fallen back-first down on one of the steel spikes of the iron fence that surrounded the manor and was pierced onto it like a dead butterfly. Her dead eyes were staring up, but Torn couldn't tell if they were looking up to him accusingly or searching the skies for any help...


When Kelemis Durn summoned them, the sun was shining again. They had brought his corpse to the local Tanil temple which had been crowded with injured and dying people, where they had brought him discreetly into some back-rooms, for the knowledge of the death of the Home Commander would have shattered the people's morale. The priests promised to bring him back from the dead first thing in the morning.

By the time the adventurers had left the church, the attack was already over. It looked like the Titanspawn had payed a heavy toll for their attack- for every dead human, there were two slitheren, Asaathi or other titanspawn dead in the streets. For a few days, they helped in the hospitals or rescuing survivors from collapsed houses, until they received an invitation.

Now, in the Sun Room, Kelemis Durn was sitting behind his desk, only rising briefly to welcome and congratulate them. He looked older than he had, his shoulders were slumped and there was a trace of a beardstubbles on his once clean shaven face. All in all he seemed weaker and less lively than the energic and optimistic leader he had used to be. He looked deeply melancholic, but whether this sadness was due to having returned from the realm of death just recently or because of the treason of his trusted adjutant, they couldn't tell.

Finally, after long moments, he spoke, and his voice that had once been booming with good cheer was now subdued and trailing away every now and then:" I thank you in the name of all Vigilantes and the whole country of Vesh. Tanil knows what the servants of Mormo could have done with the amphora. The all-over assault a few days ago is the final proof that it holds unestimable value for them- they wouldn't have sacrificed so many of their numbers for a mere bauble.

" Yet, I can not give you the public recognition for what you have done just yet. I would like to rely on you again in the future, and since you are among the very few I can truly trust, it is better if you stay in the shadows for now.

"As a reward, I can order to have magical weapons crafted for each of you, Niklas and Torn. For you Ben, there is a robe for which he have no use: the way I understand it, it will allow you to change shape more often. 

"For you Jan and Trepat, though, I have something else to offer. From what I heard, your body hasn't developed to become as resilent as it could be. If you like, I could arrange a meeting with a priest of Enkili- he could change your physical past to a degree that the way your body has formed will be as if you have lead a different life. But it could as well turn out for the worse for you, since Enkili's favors often end up as curses..."

Jan thought for a while until he decided:"I will take this chance, though. If Enkili favors me, this will only help me to be a more useful servant of Corean.".

Trepat, who relied on Tanil looking out for him, simply nodded, indicating his acceptance of the proposal.

"So be it, then", Kelemis Durn said, standing up:" It will take some days till your weapons are crafted, and you, Jan will need to ride out to the priest's temple, which is placed on a cliff near the coast."

He then asked them to remain in Lave for the time being. Once the vigilantes had opened the tome of Chardun, they would inform the adventurers about what they found out, and maybe they would need their help again.

Then, the friends left, and Niklas, who was last closed the door behind himself. Just as he was about to leave the door behind to catch up with his companions, he stopped in his step for a second. He was certain, that even through the oakwood door between them, he heard the soft sound of Kelemis Durn sighing deeply, as if under the pressure of a ton of sorrows and worries...


----------



## Talix

Aw, poor Kelemis!    It must be really hard to come back from the realm of eternal peace to have to deal with this mess, and betrayal on top of it, just because you feel it is your duty.  No wonder he's all bummed out.  

Nice ending to this particular storyline!  Did she just roll really badly on her tumble check, or was it more of a theatrical element?  Either way, well done.


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## Nightfall

I have a feeling good ole Amra failed her tumble check. Still nice theatric touch Lars. Btw what's the deal with the Enkili thing and Jan?


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## Lars Frehse

Amra really got a lot of damage that round, since Torn was raging and Trepat had used his wand of bullstrength on him when they went into the Hall of Command. Then, she failed the tumble check, and I added the fence as a nice theatrical touch.

Regarding Enkile: Both Trepat's and Jan's players had rolled incredibly bad when it came to their hitpoints. Especially Trepat rolled straight 1s ever since he started raising in levels. So, I created a ritual for Enkili priests that allows to reroll for Hitpoints, showing what the body would have matured into under different conditions. Of course, with Enkile being the fickle god he is, the rule is: whatever you roll, you get. (Fortunately both rolled rather nice HPs this time).


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## Nightfall

I thought it sounded like both Torn and Trepat did some heavy damage. But I do like the gateway death. Very nice touch.

Btw thanks for explaining that HP thing. I have my own house rule. You can reroll 1's and 2's. This way you don't have low HP characters.


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## Lars Frehse

*The bat and the dream, part 1*

The days after the attack were busy ones. The heroes helped saving trapped survivors from ruins, used their healing-powers in the make-shift hospitals and tried to fill gaps wherever they were needed. Meanwhile, they were informed that the opening of the book might take weeks, since the power that sealed is was indeed great, and they were treated to comfortable rooms in a wealthy inn.

One afternoon, having spent his magical healing powers for the day, Ben went to a tanner, his slitheren hides strapped to the back of his horserat. After a short introduction, the tanner agreed to take a look at the hides to see whether he was able to do something with it, but once Ben had unrolled the bundle in the tanner’s shop, he grew clearly agitated: „What? Is this the skin of a slitheren?“.

Ben shrugged: „Well, sure.“

The short, lean tanner had been agitated before. The halfling’s calm didn’t do anything to calm him down in turn, though. Rather, his surprise was now turning into a feeling of insult: „You can hardly expect me to tan the hide of a being that had once been concious.“.

„Why not“, Ben asked, irritated by the tanner’s emotional outburst: „They are your enemies. So, what’s the big deal?“

„What the deal is? What the deal is? I will tell you what the deal is. The deal is, not even Calastians would take the skins of people from Vesh and make coats out of them“.

„Well, obviously, you don’t have no fur like a slitheren, so there is no way anybody could make a furcoat out of that.“.

Now the man was furious. His face was turning crimson red and he was frantically waving with his arms: „That is not the point. They are not using our skins to make boots out of them, either.“.

Ben was unmoved: „Whatever. Listen good man, I am getting tired of this. Are you going to tan those furs now? I can see your angle, and I will give you a little extra for the work, as well.“.

„Angle? No! I would never do something as terrible as tanning the skin of any sentient being, be it friend or foe! And now leave my store or I will call the guards!“

„Your loss“, Ben said, wrapped up his furs and left the tanner.

Back at his room, he removed the arms and legs from the skins, taking away their humanoid look. This way, he succeeded in convincing another tanner that he had been hunting giant rats, and once the skins were prepared he brought them to a tailor who made him boots, a coat and a cap out of them.

On the evening after Ben had received his new, gray set of winter clothes, with which he was sufficiently content to tip the tailor rather lavishly, Torn was in his hotelroom, studying a new spell. As he sat hunched over a small table, reading the parchment scroll by candle-light, there was a light rap on the door.

Not knowing who was coming, he rose from his chair, checking that his chain was in grasp’s reach and said: „It’s open!“.

The door opened and a hooded female humanoid stood in the door. „May I enter?“, she asked with a chirping voice.

Torn gestured, waving her in: „Sure.“.

The woman entered and closed the door behind her. „I will remove this cloak now. Please, don’t be afraid.“, she said, and slowly she pulled back her hood, revealing the face of a mansized bat! She waited for a moment, making sure that Torn wouldn’t react in a hostile way, and removed the rest of her cloak.

She was wearing the clothing of an adventurer: Sturdy materials that offered protection against the weather while sporting a lot of pockets to store away small items. But except for that, there wasn’t much normal about her: Her entire body was covered with fur, except for her face and her leathery wings, and her whole body looked like that of a humanoid bat. Her feet were bare, and they looked as agile as those of a monkey.

„My name is Lithia“, she said with her high voice „and I would like to ask you for a favor, Torn.“.

„How do you know my name.“.

„A mutual friend of ours told me a lot about you. Nadezhda of Mithril told me that she was very impressed by your abilities“.

Now that Lithia had mentioned Nadezhda, his suspicions were eased. If the bat-woman knew about the sorceress from Mithril, she was probably a member of the Scaled Ones as well. However, there was still one thing he had to know first: „I don’t want to be impolite, but I have never seen the likes of you...“.

Lithia nodded, and answered pleasantly: „Well, I belong to a species that is called „Bat Devils“ in vulgar ledean. However we are no devils, but a species from this world, just like yours, humans or any other. I know that we look strange to most of the divine races, and so we got this rather unfriendly name.

„Now“, she continued „I come to you because I would like to offer you the opportunity to join the guild. You would have to do one little task for the guild, and you will be one of us, with all the advantages this brings. What do you think?“

„I would love to hear what the task is“, Torn answered noncommitingly.

As far as Torn could read her bat-face, she was smiling now: „Of course. Tomorrow morning, a group of five will leave Mullis Town and head south on the road that leads them to Lave. Those five, two halflings, two halforcs and one elf, are all member of a group called „The Cult of the Ancients“. Are you familiar with them?“

Torn nodded. After all his researches about the book „power of death“, he knew that they were a group of murderers and assassins.

„Good. Then I don’t have to explain to you how dangerous they are. Anyway, we are fairly certain that they have a copy of a Slarecian book that was actually written in Ledean. This book allows anyone who reads it to gain the powers of an ultimate assassin. Now, we would like you to get it for us, and as a reward you may study it yourself and become a member of our guild.“

She didn’t have to ask. Torn didn’t know whether for some reason the batdevil knew about his link to the book or whether it was just a fancy of Enkili that brought them together, but there was no question for him whether he wanted to get the book, hold it in his hands, and study it.

Once he had agreed to do it, Lithia pulled a small crystal ball out of a small bag that she had carried over a shoulder. With it, she showed the five to Torn, explaining to him who was who: The male halforc, who looked good even if he had been a human, was a bard, while his female companion, clad in full plate even at the inn table at which all five of them were sitting right now, was a warrior. The female halfling wore a symbol of Belsameth around her shoulder- she was a priestess of the godess of murder, while her companion, a slick halfling with a sneer, was a sorcerer. The fifth person on the table was a tall elf- he was a thief, she told him, and the only one likely to have accepted the teachings of the book.

While he could see the faces of the cultists in the milky crystal ball, he did his best to memorize each of them. Then, he thanked Lithia and once she was gone, he thought that he wouldn’t be able to make it alone. It would be best if he would get his friends to prepare an ambush at some part of the road where they would be by themselves. After all, the Vigils wouldn’t exactly like an unmotivated attack on anyone within their borders, no matter who the target was. They would have no right to attack the cultists as long as they commited no crime within Vesh... And since they were probably not totally stupid, they would keep a low profile, being couriers for their organization.

No, it had to be an ambush at some isolated spot. That, however was possible- the road lead along many deserted hills and small woods. He would get his friends to help him too: Jan and Niklas would gladly help when it came to fighting evil, just like Trepat would, and Ben would probably enjoy the challenge of facing off against evil cultists, anyway.

He was right. Getting his friends together was easy, and two days later around noon, they were setting up their ambush at a point where the road was flanked by a forest on one and by the river on the other side. As Jan and Niklas took up their position in the middle of the road, they had decided that they would give the cultists a chance to hand the book over without a fight, the other three had each found a hiding place in the bushes and on the trees.


----------



## Nightfall

Time for do some Cult hunting!


----------



## Lars Frehse

*The bat and the dream- part 2*

While preparing their ambush, Ben noticed the tell tale signs of druids in this forest. Nothing here looked older than a century, and so he came to the conclusion that this was another place that had been healed by Denev and her followers after having been utterly ravished during the divine war. Still, there was nothing the friends had to worry about

Torn had wedged himself in the crown of a tree, and from there, he was able to view several hundred yards of the meandering river and the road next to it. When he started his watch, the sun was standing high, bathing the roof of the forest, the river and the path in it's glorious light. After all, it was merely a few days left to summer solstice and after a while, Torn started to sweat. 

The heat was getting even more oppressive, and after some hours, several mosquitos had feasted on him. He felt the roughness of the tree under him, and as the trees were already throwing their long shadows over the path and the river, and he was thinking of climbing down for a bit to stretch his limbs, he saw five riders turning around the corner.

They were still about three hundred yards away, but he could recognize three human sized figures and two riders who seemed to be much too small for their mounts. They seemed to be riding at a small pace and were engaged in conversation. Torn whistled, signaling his friends that the confrontation would soon begin. Jan and Niklas, who were fishing on a rock by the river, rammed their rods into the soft ground and took up a standing position, side by side in the middle of the road. In front of them, Trepat and Ben climbed into the trees, covered from view by leaves and branches.

As the approaching riders were still about a hundred yards away, something peculiar happened. The elf, who seemed to be wearing some sort of a helmet made out of a wolf’s skull sniffed the air, like an animal that had noticed an unfamiliar scent. Then, he gestured to the other riders, and all dismounted and drew their weapons.

Now Torn climbed down, and hid behind some bushes. Just as he had found his position, the five cultists turned around the corner. They stopped in their tracks, seeing the Palek brothers standing in the road about fifty feet away from them, but before anybody could say something, a sphere of fire appeared amdist the cultists.

Ben had decided that he would wait no longer and released the spell at the halfling woman, who was openly showing her symbol of Belsameth. Except for the priestess, no one moved for a short moment, the adventurers as surprised about the turn of events as the cutlists were. Then the elf stepped forward and with one, fluent motion, he had an arrow cocked and aiming as he walked up, he shot it at Jan, hitting right into a gap of the surprised paladin's armor.

Now the former peaceful corner of the wood exploded, and the sound of the trees and the gurgling river were substituted with the clanging of metal against metal, the pronounciation of arcane formulas and the screams of the wounded and the dying.

The priestess was the first to fall. As Torn, Niklas and Jan went into the melee, Ben and Trepat helped from their position in the trees. The halforc woman fought ferociously, expertly wielding her axe while protected by her full plate, her mate cast a spell and levitated up, shooting  electrically charged arrows from his heightened position while the elf tried to maneuver in order to get into the back of whoever was fighting the woman. The remaining halfling cast a spell, and Torn turned into a helpless crying shadow of his former self. The massive halforc could not move anymore, as he was wrecked by feelings of sadness and regret, and as he crawled on the floor his body was trembling from his spasmic crying.

Before the halfling could enjoy the victory, however, he was hit by the flaming sphere and an acid arrow, cast by Trepat. He ran into the river, leaving the fire behind and washing off the acid, as Trepat hit him with another magical missile. The impact was enough to knock him out, and unconcious, he drowned.

All in all, the cultists had no chance. Having been initially caught unaware, they were at an disadvantage which they couldn't counter anymore. Soon, just about as Torn felt the unnatural sadness lift, the two remaining foes on the ground were defeated, and as the remaining halforc tried to levitate ever higher, he was shot down by Trepat's magical missiles as well.

Most of the friends were wounded, but nothing so severe as it couldn't be healed. They picked up the pieces of equipment they found interesting, there were scrolls and potions, and the wolf's skull the elf was wearing as a helmet was magical, intending to identify them when they got the leisure to do so.

Most precious of all, however, was the book: the Power of Death. Torn found it in the priestess' satchel, and leafing through it, he found that the pages in there had a magical force. Each word , even though Ledean like the words he used, had a special power and was burning itself into his memory, and he had a faint idea of dark and arcane powers. Stroking the black velvet of the cover, he closed the book again. He would have time to read it later.

They disposed of the bodies and took the road back south, and as the sun set, they set up camp by the riverside. After his watch, Torn leafed through the book once more, cherishing the delicate texture of it's paper in the flickering light of the campfire, and then went back to sleep.

A moment later, he was sitting in an innroom. With him, at a round table of old seasoned wood, were to other half-orcs. Both were about his age, and just as big, and he immediately recognized one of them.

"Dad!", he said.

His father nodded. And, with the certainty that is only possible in dreams, he knew that the other half-orc was his grandfather, who had originally stolen the book. "We are very proud of you", his grandfather said.

"And so is Erias", Torn's father added, sitting at a fire near the small lake of the oasis, the camels sleeping in the back. "Now, that you have truly picked up your legacy, we will be able to see you more often."

Torn leaned back contently. He knew that his family had never been completely gone, and now here he was sitting side by side with his father and grandfather.

Torn's father looked more serious now: "However, there are people who need your help". By now they were sitting in a cellar, the walls were rough, hewn stone, and they were sitting on benches opposite of each other.

"When the castle of Oreirover fell, shortly after you escaped with the two humans, the elf and the halfling, a young pries of Chardun cursed the villagers, that they would never reach Corean but be caught in an eternal dream. Now, the villagers are caught in the realms of dreams, kept from their destination.

"Now, for people like us, who worship freedom and Erias, there is nothing bad about this place. We change along with it. But the followers of Corean are not like us. Eventually, they will fall into the dream's core and their souls will be destroyed."

His father leant back, hardly visible now on the dark bridge of the ship, and as he took care of the helm, grandfather continued, merely whispering over the sound of the waves and the ship:" They need guides, or their souls will be lost. Tell your friends about it. And tomorrow, if you agree, we will pick you and your friends up, and together you shall lead the villagers to their destined after lives.".

Torn wanted to answer, but he felt that he was alone again, and he found himself back in a tent at the riverside, and through the entrance of his tent, he saw the familiar sight of Trepat boiling tea in a pot over their fire in the morning light.

"Are the others awake already?", he asked the elf.

Trepat turned to him:"No, they are all still asleep.".

"Well, there is something I need to tell you all once they are awake.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Re: The bat and the dream- part 2*

Sorry-hit the wrong button. (I wanted to edit, but pressed "quote" apparently....).


----------



## Nightfall

Yah!  Cultists dead and now time to jounery into Erias's domain. Hopefully the god will be understanding and help they out. After all he might care much for Corean's order, but he and Corean probably WOULD want his faithful with him.


----------



## Talix

Woot, the Book of Assassins!    Can't wait to see how well that works!


----------



## Nightfall

I believe it gives you access to killing someone for profit...at least I believe so.


----------



## Lars Frehse

The Power of Death (from the Secret and Societies sourcebook, IIRC) gives you the ability to pick up the Assassin prestige class, without having to kill someone for the sole purpose of joining, and you don't have to be evil. In other words, Torn can now take the prestige class and use rise in levels as an Assassin while keeping his CN alignment.

Furthermore, once he delivers it to the Bat Devil, the Scaled Ones will be able to do the same... Making them even more powerful than they already are.

And now, on to the next update!


----------



## Lars Frehse

*The Bat and the Dream- part 3*

The news came as a shock to all of them. None of them doubted that Torn's dream had indeed been sent by his ancestors. For Jan and Niklas this brought up horrible memories. After their escape from their home, concentrating on learning their new professions as refugees in Durrover city, they had cradled the hope that their parents had escaped somehow as well.

Many nights which they spent on hard bunks in the fortress and the monastry, as they were slowly growing from boys to men, each of them had fantasized that any time now the door of the small cell would burst open and the burly figure of their father would come in, hug them and tell them an ecxiting and unbelievable story on how he had bested the Dragoons and made it here. But with each night that the doorframe remained empty, a little bit of hope had melted away, like polar ice that had drifted too far south, and eventually, they moved on, leaving the fantasies and hope behind.

But now they heard that it wasn't over yet after all! They had a chance to meet their father. No, it was more than a chance- it was their duty to safe him. 

They took their horses and rode south to the nearest village with an inn. There they rented a room, and impatiently waited for the sun to set and night to fall. And when it was dark, they went to their rooms and to all of them, sleep came like a drug.

The next thing they knew, they were all standing in the middle of an grove of apple trees at night, and with them were two halforcs who both looked a lot like Torn. From what he had told them, they recognized them as his father and grandfather, and grandfather was the first to speak:" So, do you want to go into the realms and save the villagers.".

He waited until all five of them had expressed their agreement and then continued:" Good then. Are there any questions?"

"Yes,", Jan answered "how can we safe our parents and the other villagers?"

Torn's father answered:" There is no one single way to do anything here. This is the realm of dreams. There are no rigid rules or structures. You will have to find a way.".

"There is one more thing I would like to know before we move on", Niklas said."Who spoke that terrible curse?"

"I don't know his name, but I saw him. He was a tall and broad shouldered human, and he had a thick, red and wild beard. He wore a black fullplate like the Dragoons, and he was wieding a huge warscepter."

Seeing that they had no further questions for now, Torn's father nodded and suddenly the heroes found themselves standing on a green field flooded with sunlight. Blinded by the sudden light, they shielded their eyes, and once their sight had adopted, they saw that they were standing in front of a metal gate.

Everything seemed real: they felt the heat of the sunlight on their clothing, a light breeze ruffling their hair and the ground beneath them felt as real as it did outside of the dreamworld. They were all dressed and equipped like they would be in the real world, too: Jan wore his shining suit of platemail with the proud symbol of Corean on front, Niklas wore his monk's robe, and so on.

Remembering that he was practically in a dream, Jan focused his mind on a horse. If he concentrated hard enough, he should be able to shape this dream according to his wishes. He closed his mind, but then, just as his mind was about to fully imagine a horse, for some reason his concentration slipped, and he thought of the duck he had for dinner before going to bed. And as he opened his eyes again, there was a living duck standing in front of him. The bird looked at him inquisitively and quacked once, as if to make a point.

"Now where did the duck come from?", Ben asked.

Jan gestured in apology:" I wished myself a horse, but somehow my mind slipped, and now I have this duck."

"Quack!", said the duck, offering it's own point of view.

Immediately, the others picked up the concept, and so the following happened in quick succession: Niklas, who was annoyed by his brother's playing around in a situation like this, succeeded in making the duck agressive, and the duck, in turn, flapped it's wings and quack-quacked repeatedly and angrily at the Paladin. While Jan tried to make the duck disappear with the strength of his will, Trepat did the same thing, but his fantasy ran wild for a second, and suddenly there were twenty very upset ducks creating a pandemonium of noise and fluttering feathers.

Ben stomped his foot, trying to shout over the noise of the ducks:" Could you guys please let those who have experience in mental discipline handle this? Thank you!"

And then, he went into himself, forgot the noise around him, and made the ducks disappear.

"Now, let us please go and search the villagers. And stop that nonsense", he added.

They went through the gate and now they all recognized where they were. To the west, beyond the fields they were standing in, they saw the Kelders, their peaks apparently stripped of their white cloaks by a long heatspell, and closer to them, there was a village at the foot of a hill on top of which there was a small castle. 

They were standing just a mile outside of Oreirover, however here, the houses were still standing, the fields weren't abandoned and the castle was no ruin: This was Oreirover the way it had been the summer of the attack, and nothing bad seemed to have ever happened to this place.

The dusty road to the village lead through the fields, and after they had passed half the distance, they came upon farmer Rowan. Jan and Niklas remembered him: he was a nice guy in his fifties who had stayed unmarried throughout his life and he was taking care of some fields which belonged to the Baron. Like everything else, he too looked like he had in the Vangalot of 142 AV.

Leaning on his pitchfork, he looked calmly and curiously at the visitiors, until suddenly, recognition lit his lazy eyes up a bit:"Hey Mr Elf, sir! Trepat, right?"

Trepat, who suddenly realized that he was indeed the only one who pretty much looked the same as he had looked nine years ago, at least to human eyes, raised his hand in greetings:" A good day to you, too!".

"It's been a while, hasn't it! Glad you found your way back here."

"Good to see you, too, Rowan", Jan said cheerfully.

The farmer seemed unfazed by having his name being mentioned:" Sir Paladin, I am sorry, but I don't know you. And I am sure that I would recognize you had I ever met you before, what with your shiny armor and your red beard."

"But I am Jan, the smith's son!"

Old Rowan scratched the dark stubbles in his face:" His son? You are here because of the son? Wait, yes, now I see. You do look alike. You must be the real father, coming here to pick him up! Well, that is news. You can be sure that the smith raised him in the ways of Corean, yes, sir, he did. Now, that is...".

Jan interrupted the man:" No. Don't you understand? I AM Jan.".

Rowan now looked at him without any understanding:" Good sir. Don't try to make fun of me. The two boys are with their father now."

"But we were boys nine years ago, when the Dragoons attacked, don't you see?"

The farmer now shook his head, reacting the way he would have reacted to an April's fool:" Ah, you shouldn't jest like that, sir. Why, the battle had been a while ago, but nine years. No. Certainly not. Else, the boys wouldn't be boys anymore, now, would they?".

Before Jan could go on, Trepat and Torn tucked at his sleeves. "Ah, there is no point to that", Torn said."We should rather try our luck with your father himself".

Jan agreed. There was no point in debating any longer with old Rowan. They waved goodbye to him, and he returned to his fieldwork, and then they walked into the small village square. There, in front of the smithery, they saw Harket Palek, the man who had raised them, hammering away at a plow. With him, holding the plow in position with pliers, there were the twelve and thirteen year old selves of both Jan and Niklas.


----------



## Nightfall

Lars Frehse said:
			
		

> *The Power of Death (from the Secret and Societies sourcebook, IIRC) gives you the ability to pick up the Assassin prestige class, without having to kill someone for the sole purpose of joining, and you don't have to be evil. In other words, Torn can now take the prestige class and use rise in levels as an Assassin while keeping his CN alignment.
> 
> Furthermore, once he delivers it to the Bat Devil, the Scaled Ones will be able to do the same... Making them even more powerful than they already are.
> 
> And now, on to the next update! *




Must have missed that...I thought it turned people evil...but I could be wrong.


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## Talix

LOL, I loved the ducks!    I am so yoinking that for when I do a campaign with a dream world.


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## Lars Frehse

Glad you liked it! I basically made up a house-rule for changing your surroundings in the realm of dreams.
If you want something, roll Willpower, DC 15: On a success, you get what you want. If you miss by more than 10 (that is if you get below 5) something weird happens. (Like the duck). If you roll a natural 1, something bad happens. (You can't walk, or you are naked, or you are falling... Random nightmare stuff).

And now, back to the story. The strange thing is, that even though the session was rather short, I have to do a lot of writing to tell what has happened. Describing concepts like a dream-world do take more explanation than a dungeon crawl, it seems... This means that this chapter will take five updates, and here comes number 4.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*The bat and the dream- part 4 of 5*

For a moment, the friends exchanged puzzled looks as the old Palek put down his hammer next to the anvil, wiped his sweaty hands on his Schürze and then asked: "Good day! Can I help you?"

From then on, the conversation quickly deterioated. The smith was not ready to believe that the grown men in front of him were his sons, sins his sons were standing right next to him, and Jan's offer to "Take the villagers to Corean" was interpreted as a threat as well. It was then, that the smith ordered them to leave or else, and they went over to the village's inn to consider a new strategy.

In it, there was only Sorly, the owner, and after a quick talk, all but Niklas decided to go up to the castle and try to convince the Baron. If they could convince him, he should be able to use his influence on the villagers. Niklas, however, wanted to stay in the village. He couldn't accept that his father had not recognized him, but he felt that his mother would recognize him. She was his mom, after all, and she just had to see the truth.

So, they split. Niklas went around the his family's house. In the front, there was the smithery, but in the back was the little two story house in which he had grown up. And there, leaning out of the kitchen window, watering the flowers in the baskets that were dangling next to the window.

He swallowed hard, and when he was sure that he had succesfully battled the tears that were welling up inside of him he greeted her.

His mother looked up, and then he started telling her everything he could remember that only he and his mother could know. He started talking, and she listened, as he poured out the many secrets that only they had shared.

Meanwhile, the others arrived at the castle gate. The guards, seeing the symbol of Corean on Jan's chest, saluted and let them pass, informing them that the Baron was in his banquet hall in the keep. They went over the courtyard, noticing that ever since their arrival the sun hadn't moved one inch from it's midday height.

The Baron sat in a cool, sparsely furnished hall, where he welcomed them. He remembered both Trepat and Ben, and being a devout follower of Corean, he was especially happy to welcome Jan. After having ordered his servants to prepare rooms for his exalted guest and his retinue, he settled down with them around a big table, on which servants were putting wine, ale, fruit, bread, meat and cheese.

Once they were set, Jan asked the Baron whether he had noticed anything strange lately, and the Baron answered: „No. You know how it is here, one day is pretty much the same as any other one. It is a repetive, boring life. I am certain you could tell much more exciting stories than I could!“

„If I may speak, sir,“, Torn asked Jan, and after the Paladin, who was surprised by the halforcs manners, nodded, he continued: „Sir, we came here with a mission, and if you give us the opportunity to ask you some questions, we may fulfill our mission.“.

The Baron agreed, and for the next hours, they systematically questioned the nobleman, disturbing him more and more. How long has it been since he had celebrated new years day for the last time? Could he remember his last birthday? The time when the harvest was brought in? Surely many summers must have past since the attack on the castle, but could he really remember any winters?

Meanwhile, Niklas was finished listing all the intimate moments he could remember to his mother. While he had been talking, she had been listening intently, not interupting once. As he stood there, at the back of his old house, his mother leaning on the windowsill, he began to wonder whether his mother would react at all, as she finally spoke: „Listen, I don’t know how long you must have been sneaking after me and my family to find all this out. But let me tell you this, and I will tell you only once: My sons are working with their father right now, and I want you to leave right now.“

„But mother!“, Niklas cried out, but she was already closing the window, locking them shut. As he should there, powerless, he saw how she shouted something, and soon afterwards, his father and the two kids were in the kitchen. As his father spot him, he tore open the backdoor, and while he was threatening him with his sledge hammer and his head was red with fury, he shouted: „Get away from here right now! Or I will have to use this hammer on your head!“.

Niklas turned away, his arms useless weights which were pulling down his shoulders, and step by step, he walked off. In his back, he felt the furious presence of his father receding behind him, and he walked to the small stream between the castle and the village.

This wasn’t how he had imagined the reunion with his family would be like. When he was a kid, he had always been jealous of the affection and kindness his brother would attract. He never let that jealousy get the better of him, and he loved Jan like he would love him were he his brother in blood as well, yet he had always been vulnerable to rejection.

And now here he was. He had met both his parents again, and his mother had closed the window on him, and his father had threatened him with a sledge hammer. No, this was definetly much worse than anything he could have thought of.

Niklas sat down next to the small streamlet for a while and watched the water merely wetting the stones in the middle of it’s bed. This had been his private place when he had been a kid, insecure whether his parents maybe loved his strikingly charming adopted brother more than they did him, and now he sat there again, the same old question coming up again after all those year.

He sighed deeply and then got up, walked over the small bridge and up the path to the castle on the hill. He payed no heed to his surroundings, deeply lost in his thought, as suddenly, he heard a faint hissing, gurgling sound coming from the right. Still walking, he turned his head, and there, amidst bushes, grass and small stones, he saw a strange vortex that was made of grey oozy matter and about a foot in diameter.

The vortex looked strange, alien, and every bush, stone or patch of earth it touched was sucked into it, completely disappearing. Niklas stood still, mesmerized by the alien phenomena, as suddenly a multicolored bolt shot out of the vortex, towards him. Immediately, his training took over, and he rolled out of the way, as the bolt shot past him and made the tree it hit completely disappear. He turned around again, and the vortex was gone, but where it had been and around it, the land had been replaced by the shapeless, alien oozy material the vortex had been made of.

He got up, and after dusting off his robe, he ran up the hill. He had to run threehundred yards up the hill to get to the castle, and as he ran through the gate, he was panting heavily and his cloak was soaked with sweat. In the courtyard, Niklas saw his friends and the Baron just coming out of the front door.

He ran the last yards and after greeting the Baron he said: „It has begun! This place is falling apart!“.


----------



## Nightfall

Time to say good bye to Dreamland.


----------



## Talix

Oh no, it's the Nothing!   

I was thinking of making it a concentration check, with a slightly higher DC, but then I realized I didn't want to make it impossible for those without any ranks in it, while making it not super-easy for those that do have ranks in it.  Maybe your Willpower check is best after all.


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## Talix

Oh no, it's the Nothing!   

I was thinking of making it a concentration check, with a slightly higher DC, but then I realized I didn't want to make it impossible for those without any ranks in it, while making it not super-easy for those that do have ranks in it.  Maybe your Willpower check is best after all.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*The bat and the dream- part 5 of 5*

"Then I should waste no time", the Baron said, and afte he excused himself for a moment, he went off to call together all his knights and guards.

Before Niklas could show his surprise about the Baron's reaction, Torn said:" He knows now that he is not in Durrover anymore.

"We asked him to remember his last winter and many other things, and eventually it turned out that he didn't even remember the last night, either. Looks like this place is locked in an eternal noon. Yet, the people never really actively think or wonder about it. They have just proceeded living and working for all those years without noticing the strangeness of it all. Looks like the magic of the place never made them realize it. Or maybe their rigid minds didn't allow them to notice that what can not be according to their views...

"Now, if he does the convincing, his soldiers should accept his world view simply if he tells them to. It really turns out to our advantage that all those Corean worshippers are so obedient to their superiors.".

Before either Niklas or Jan could comment on this, they noticed a commotion, and soon all twelve man at arms were lining up in the courtyard. Those twelve were the complete local military force, and even though mercenaries had doubled their number at the time of the attack, it was again clear why they never had a chance against the assault of the Dragoons. All in all, their had been more dragoons than villagers back then, and most of the soldiers probably don't even remember the place anymore. It had been just one more point on the map to conquer, pillage and loot during an insignificant campaign twelve years ago...

Now after Torn rammed a stick into the packed earth of the courtyard, which was casting merely a short shadow in the noon's sun, the Baron started speaking to his men. At the beginning, he ordered them to keep an eye on the stick and it's shadow, and to memorize the position of the shadow.

And then he explained to the soldiers what he had been told himself, and again, he listed all those inexplicable peculiarities to his men. They listened to his explanations, while the stick's shadow didn't move an inch, and as they started to understand, small details of the castle started to disappear. Colorful windows were gone, a family sword strapped to their sides and many other items that had only remained as long as someone had believed in them.

Again, their discipline proved to be immensly valuable. They heard the world-shattering news, and even when the Baron explained to them that they were dead, each of the twelve men and women kept their rigid positions. Their training was stronger than even the worst shock.

When the Baron was finished, and after he had ordered his soldiers to be at ease, they started to talk excitedly to each other. Then Jan raised his hand, and the sunlight that was reflected in the polished steel of his gauntlet caught their attention again.

"There is good news, however", the Paladin said. "All those who are still in this realm are followers of Corean, since the curse of the fiendish priest of Chardun was only directed at them. That means that once we have lead you away from this realm of trickery and illusion, you will be able to reap the rewards of your lives lived honorably on the side of Corean himself!".

Now, the insecurity and shock was substitued by general joy and excitement. As the prospect of paradise lifted the spirits of the men and women, Jan's friends were once again reminded just how easy it was for him to make people trust him.

They left the castle behind, after the soldiers had reminded each other that there was no need to take anything with them, since nothing was real after all. Then, suddenly, the path disappeared right in front of the small troop, and another vortex appeared. This time, it was several feet in diameter, and there were several bolts of chaotic energy shooting out of it.

Frantically, they ran away from the growing vortex, struggling as the land and the very matter of reality was pulled from under them like a rug. Consequently, they hardly got ahead, and for a short moment, reality around them turned into a nightmare in which everyone was running at full speed but not moving ahead an inch, and then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the vortex was gone, leaving another large circular patch of grey gooey material behind.

Now, with the immediate danger gone, they all ran down the hill to the village. There, they spread out, gathering each and every villager in the villagesquare which was dominated by a large, ancient oaktree.
Fortunately, no further vortexes appeared at that time, and after a while all onehundredfifty souls, men, women and children were looking at them, wondering why they had been summoned like that. There was a murmur over the crowd, since no one was able to remember how long it had been since they had been gathered together like this the last time.

When the Baron greeted them loudly, there was a short murmur of approval, and then the crowd fell silen. Like he had told the soldiers before, he now adressed the villagers and with a lot of determination and patience, he explained to them what had happened. Like Jan's moral authority had ultimately convinced the Baron, and the Baron's authority in turn had enabled him to convince the soldiers, the truth was now dawning on the villagers as well. Trusting their lord came easily to them, and it was as natural to them as breathing.

Again, things were disappearing, like they had done on the courtyard, as more and more of the villagers were convinced of the truth and let go of what they had considered the truth just hours ago. But then, there was an uproar, as the smith stepped ahead. He was agitated, and he was pointing a meaty indexfinger at the friends:" Don't listen to them!

"They had tried to fool me and my wife before, and I don't know how they had convinced the Baron, but whatever they are trying to achieve, it can only be foul!"

"But father", Jan said, his hands outstretched:"Don't you remember how you came to us in the castle, that fatal night before the Dragoons attacked? You had tried to cheer us up as you handed us over to Ben and Trepat, and you gave me this".

Jan pulled out the amulet which he had worn as a charm ever since that day, and now his father looked stunned. Then, his mother stepped ahead, the two kids at her side, and after she had looked at the amulet, she looked up into her adopted son's eyes. Nobody spoke a word, and then, she let go of the children and stepped up to embrace Jan and Niklas while tears were running down his cheeks.

The children, left behind, faded away and disappeared and then the smith stepped ahead as well, embraced his true children, and apologized over and over while tears were running down into his beard as well and his voice was choked down with sobs.

Now, that the illusion of the village and it's fields was no longer mantained, everything around them disappeared and they standing in what seemed to be an endless grey plain under a grey sky. After a short exchange, all of the heroes concentrated like they had done when the ducks had appeared, only that this time they all concentrated on one thing: A gate to the realm of Corean.

They all had their eyes closed, and soon they heard the villagers around them praying to Corean, faintly they heard the roaring of a chaos vortex, but soon the roar was substitued by angelic music. They opened their eyes, and there, in the middle of the grey nothing, there was a gilden gate through which a light was streaming, and it was bright enough that they were forced avert their eyes.

Looking up, they noticed that the villagers seemed to have no problems looking directly into the light, and since all their faces were enflamed by ecstatic joy, they even seemed to be seeing wonderful things as they walked through it.

The Paleks were the last to go. Shortly before the gate, they turned around once again, and thanked Ben and Trepat for having taken care of them in the time of danger. Then, they hugged their children one last time, and finally turned around. After leaving through the gate, it closed and then disappeared.

Now, the five friends were left behind in the grey nothing, which was rapidly falling apart around them. The villager's presence had given the dreamsphere the stability to float slowly towards the dream core, but now it was falling straight towards it, becoming one with the stuff that all dreams were made of.

Vortexes appeared everywhere, and every dreamer concentrated on waking up. First, Niklas and Ben jerked out of sleep in the communal sleeping room that they had rented. They felt like they had been asleep for an eternity, and there was the innkeeper and a Tanil priest in the room as well.

"At last you were awake!", the innkeeper said:"You still owe us money for all the days..:"

Niklas brushed her aside as he ran for a pitcher of water while Ben jumped on top of Jan and started slapping the Paladin. As the innkeeper rambled on, Jan, Trepat and Torn were shook in their sleep, moaning with pain, and a bleeding slash appeared on the halforc's cheek. In this chaos, they succeeded in waking up all their friends but Torn. Meanwhile, curious patrons were standing in the doorway, and as more spectators arrived, those who had arrived early were pushed into the room.

Eventually, though, Torn woke up too, and Ben cured his wounds. They talked to the patrons and found out that they had been asleep for over a week. So they payed the excited innkeeper their dues and then, finally realizing that they were hungry like they hadn't eaten in a week, which they hadn't, they settled down to several courses of dinner.

Still, they tired early, and as each of them went to bed, both Niklas and Jan looked to their doorways, unaware that they were both thinking the same: Never again would they dream of their father bursting through the door of their sleeping quarters, knowing that he was indeed in a better place now.


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## Lars Frehse

Again it is time for a little spoiler warning.

The next updates will be about "The Serpent and the Scepter" by Sword and Sorcery, continuing the Serpent Amphora Cycle. So:


- - - S P O I L E R - - -


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## Lars Frehse

*Southwards- part 1*

Kelemis Durn was looking better than he had a month earlier, after his resurrections. Still, every time he smiled it looked as if it would take him a lot of effore to do so and there was the faint hint of his muscles turning to fat.

After weeks of waiting, in which Torn had become a full fledged member of the scaled ones and memorized a list of contact people in most major cities of Ghelspad, they were finally informed that the Vigilantes had succeeded in unveiling the secrets of the tome, and so they were once again summoned into the sunroom in the Hall of Command.

He told them that their worst fear had been confirmed: With the proper rituals, the servants of the Witch Queen could indeed access and use the power contained in the Amphora. He paused, and once he was certain that they all understood the terrible implications, he continued:" Unfortunately, the book doesn't tell us how to destroy the damned thing. The only thing it does is mentioning a ritual powerful enough to destroy a god-created artifact."

"This means that the priesthood of Chardun might hold this secret, and by far the nearest man who might have the answer we require is Archfiend Fiarun at Castle Durn in Lageni. That means you would have to take a long journey through hostile territory but given the threat that the Serpent Amphora poses as long as it exists, it has to be done.".

"Of course we would be honored to work for you again", Niklas said, "but why do you trust us with this mission?".

"Isn't that obvious?", the commander of the Vigilantes answered:" Unfortuntely I have to be wary even of my own men and women. You, however, have repeatedly been in the position to gain posession of the Amphora. Yet, you never once did that, but instead brought it here and later even risked your own life protecting it, and even saving my life. You are the only ones who have proven to me that you are absolutely trustworthy."

They talked a little longer. Kelemis didn't know how they should approach the archfiend- but surely he would remember that all divine people should remain united against the titans and help them, no matter what other differences they had, wouldn't he? And yes, he knew that they came from the country that had been raped by Lageni over and over again, and if he could think of better people to send, he would do so, but they were the ones he would trust with such a mission.

On the next morning, the five friends were back on their horses and horserat, riding southwest through Vesh towards Denev's Aquifer. Days went by as they rode past fields and orchards, and every night they arrived at some village where they could stay in an inn. Here, far away from the scars and taint of the Titanswar, they could almost forget about the bad state their world was in.

One afternoon, as they reached a small village in the heartlands which looked just like any other they had passed through on their journey, a bearded, suntanned farmer stepped into their way. There was a kid next to him, who seemed to be the farmer's son. He was wringing his widebrimmed hat in his hands, obviously uncomfortable to approach what he considered a knight and his retinue:" Good sir knight, I am sorry that I stop you like this, but there is something I have to ask you.".

Jan nodded and getured for the farmer to continue, who gestured towards Swift Jane and then burst out:" Are those animals dangerous? And is this one tame? What are they?"

Seeing that it was about his mount, Ben leaned forward in his saddle, resting his body on the pommel and said:" This is called horserat, and, yes, even though this one is tame, they are indeed fierce creatures, so you should better not mess with it.".

"Thank you", the farmer answered:" You see, eight days ago, we found the terribly mutilated body of an old, lonely farmer in his field. It looked like giant creatures had torn parts out of his body. We were worried whether a werewolf or another spawn of Belsameth had killed him, since even though we have a small shrine in her honor here in our village, we have hardly made any sacrifices for her. So, we killed a lamb in her name and burnt precious incense, and since nothing bad has happened again, we felt safe again.

"However, last evening my son here told me that he had seen creatures just like the one here. At first we didn't believe him, thinking he must have imagined it, but now that I see them with my own eyes, I am afraid that those "horserats" as you call them might strike again. Could you plese help us? The nearest soldiers are days from here.".

"Give us a second to discuss this, please", Trepat said, and they went back to the shade of the tree, and as some villagers, who had been fed the details by the farmer watched them, they huddled together.

"Do you think what I am thinking?", he said, once he was certain that no one was listening to him.

Niklas and Torn nodded while Ben began brushing Swift Jane's fur. Jan said:" Yes, those people are lucky that there are no werewolves here but merely horserats!"

Torn shook his head:" I don't think that that is what Trepat meant. And apart from that, for farmers like those people here, it doesn't make that much of a difference: Whether they are attacked by werewolves or horserat, the effect is the same: they get killed.

"Anyway, when we brought the Serpent Amphora to Lave last year, we were attacked by Slitheren here in the heartlands. Then we found their horserats and after Ben had chosen one for himself- Swift Jane over there, he had released the others. I would bet that those are the same horserats that killed the farmer.".

Ben nodded:" I had thought that once they are set free they would stay away from humans... Unless they have children to feed and defend of course!".

"Alright then", Niklas said, "let's go to the farm then and see if we can take care of the mess we created!"


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## Nightfall

Figures they should have killed the rest. But oh well.


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## Talix

Nice tie-in with previous events!

Still enjoying your story.


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## Lars Frehse

Glad to hear it! 

Incidentally, I have updated my storyhour in the download section: http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/news...wdownload&cid=4


It now includes all chapters up to the end of the Serpent in the Fold. The whole text is slightly over 170 pages and in Rich Text Format.

And now, back to the scheduled update!


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## Lars Frehse

*Southwards- part 2*

The farm itself was a small wooden house that needed a new coat of paint which was dwarved by a giant barn which was easily four stories high and as big as any mansion in Mithril. They arrived there on Septimo's cart, and he told them that the farmer who had been killed had lived there alone, since his father had only died last year and since he had been busy, he had had no time to find a wife and start a family himself.

"At least", Septimo said with his booming voice, his initial shyness gone, as they approached the buildings on a small road that cut through wheat fields left and right:" this means that he left no widow or orphans behind."

"Could you stop, please?", Trepat asked, and after the farmer had pulled the reins, he jumped down. There, in the cracked mud of a dried out irrigation ditch, he saw several paw-prints. He thrust his hand into the mud, and seeing that it was still wet under the dried out surface, he concluded that the paw prints were most likely not older than a few hours.

He told his friends, who all jumped down from the cart as well, and now Ben sniffed the air. He was wearing the wolf-skull that they had taken from the Cultists. It maginified his sense of smell manyfold, and now, he scented the smell of wolf-rats coming from the barn.

"They are in there", he said, and cautiously they walked up to the hill-sized structure. There was a huge set of double doors in it's front, big enough to allow a cart with stacks of hay to drive in and out, and in one of the huge gates, there was a smaller, mansized door. This door was standing ajar, and the friends had to strain their eyes to make out details in the dark interior while they were still being bathed by the gleaming afternoon sun in the open yard.

When they were done casting their preparating spells, protecting Niklas with an armor of invisible energy and creating a shield of force in front of Torn, Ben said: " And remember: If there are horserat-welps, don't kill them. The villagers could possibly tame them."

Torn walked in first. The only light in here was the one solid shaft that was falling through the doorway in his back. Particles of dust were dancing excitedly in it, freshly disturbed by the disturbance caused by the movement of the massive half orc and the air smelled of dry hay and rats.

To his left and right, he was flanked by stacks of hay, and now he saw there were more stacks of hay ahead of him, towering as high as the roof of the barn towards the end of the structure. Seeing no imminent danger, he turned to wave in his friends, as suddenly, from the stacks at his sides, two large creatures dropped at him, catching him unaware.

The horserats were at him, and for as they pounced on him, attempting to bury him beneath him, he almost fainted from the overpowering smell coming out of their mouths, which were far open, ready to bury the mighty rodent teeth into his flesh. But he managed to fend them off and move farther into the barn, giving his friends an opening to come in and help.

A fierce battle ensued and from within the depths of the barn, the other three rats approached and joined the battle. Ultimately, however, their size and wild fierceness was no match for the well trained and coordinated heroes. By now, they were so used to fighting at each other’s side that they were able to intuitively know what the others would do and act accordingly.

After a while, the barn was dead again, and the four humanoids and Ben in his giantspiderform stood infront of the dead corpses of the horserats. They were wounded where the giant rodents had hit them with tooth or claw, but it was nothing that couldn’t be healed by Jan and Ben.

Once cured, they searched the barn, and sure enough, there was a tunnel leading into a huge stack of hay. There, in utter darkness, protected by the hay like a natural cave was protected by the motherrock, there was a hollow portion, just high enough for Ben to stand in, and there, about the size of wolf-puppiess, there were eight horserat babies, their eyes still closed. Ben made soothing noises and soon they were crawling towards him as good as they could, inhaling the strange, unknown smell.

Ben picked one up, cradling it in his arm while making cooing noises, and then brought it outside. There, he handed it to Trepat who brought it out to the cart where he covered the puppie with straw, and soon they had loaded all of them onto the cart.

Back in the village, after having gotten some goat milk to nurse the helpless horserat babies, he talked to the local teamster, who was also experienced at breeding rats. After talking about the intricacies of raising and taming horserats, the man was pretty certain that he could tame those orphaned horserats as well. After all, they could turn out to be very useful for the village: Not only were they powerful beasts of burden, who, like rats could feed on anything, they were even powerful enough to be used to defend the village.

For three days, Ben instructed the teamster and the local villagers, and in this time, they were treated like royal guests- after all, the villagers were unaware that the horserat plague had been brought upon them by their very guests, and they only saw their selfless protectors in them.

Then, when Ben was sure that the puppies would be fine and grow into domesticated horserats, they moved on to Denev’s Aquifer, where they got a boat from local vigilantes. The rangers promised to make sure that their mounts would be returned to lave, with the exception of the horserat, which just about fit into the boat with themand from which Ben wouldn’t part at no cost.The crossing of the lake itself merely took them a few days- although they weren’t used to handling a boat themselves, the weather was pleasant with a steady, slight breeze in their back, letting them get ahead easily, if a bit clumsily.

The weather was still warm and sunny when they reached the village of Trela, and they were welcomed by a lot of the villagers. Some of the people of Trela still remembered how they had fought the Asaathi over a year ago, but most of them recognized them because of the now legendary elder rod duel, in which both Jan and Torn broke down at the same moment, resulting in the first time ever that there had been a tie in the final match of this contest.

Amidst good cheer they met the new village priestess and the new village wizard (after all, the old ones had been killed by the party a year before) and after a night in which the villagers many stories of their adventures up north, they restocked their provisions and took their little boat to the Eni, sailing on south.

Once on the river, the pleasant landscape was substituted by the hostile and depressing badlands of the bloodsteppes to their right and the majestic, and just as hostile, Kelders to their left. Their good cheer left them during the day, and around noon, Trepat noticed what appeared to be a small crows among the peaks of the kelders, which almost looked as if they were slowly moving south, paralell to the course of their own little boat.

He pointed it out to his friends, and Ben told them, what the elf was already thinking: „I have never heard of flocks of crows flying betwen such high mountains- after all, there should hardly be enough food for them. And the way they slowly move southwards with us is highly unusual as well... This is definetly not natural“.


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## Nightfall

Yep the crows are mighty odd...  But wait until they see what happens near Durm. Now that's disturbing!


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## Lars Frehse

*Southwards- part 3*

The crows stayed with them as they sailed down the Eni. At nights, they didn't dare going ashore and stayed on their boat instead, and at that time they sometimes saw strange eyes among the rocks of the blood steppes looking back at them, and they were weary of every distorted shadow, of which they were many.

The days weren't any more pleasant. While a cloud of crows moved south with them, always staying far out of range of their bows or any of their spells, the shores looked even more hostile than imagination made them look at night. The wheather changed to a steady drizzle and a constant wind down the Eni made them shiver, even though it was the month of Hedrot, which was usually known for it's scorching heat.

On the third day, as they had left half of their river journey behind, they were attacked by a pair of Cathedral beetles. The pony-sized pests hovered over the river, as they sprayed the boat and everyone in it with an acid which they sprayed out of their behinds and then attacked with their scythe like mandibles. The friends killed the beasts, and it turned out to be the only time they were attackes on the trip down the river Eni.

Eventually, the Kelders retreated from their left and the land opened up to pleasant fields. They had reached Lageni, and at last there were signs of civilizations again: first, there was a bleak fortress over which the banners of the Black Dragoons were proudly flying in the wind, and then they saw farms, fishermen, windmills and other indications that they had reached Lageni.

They went ashore in small backwater called Kulomi and payed an old crone to keep an eye on their boat while they were gone. The village was too small to get any horses there, and the villagers were too poor to maintain any store that the friends could have needed to replace some equipment that got damaged during the attack of the Cathedralbeetles.

From the moment they set foot on Lageni soil, they noticed that they were eyed suspiciously. None of them, not even the humans, looked like the locals, who were mostly olive skinned and slender, and Trepat and Ben were looked upon with open fear and hatred by a lot of the locals, while Torn, to his surprise, wasn't being payed any special attention to at all- if anything, he seemed to be the one who received the least resentment of all of them.

For Torn, this was a completely new experience. Ever since he was a kid, he remembered vendors eyeing him suspiciously when he was glancing at their wares, women speeding up in alleys, when he went on a stroll at night, and millions of other occasions in which prejudice and fear towards his species formed the behavior of ordinary people towards him, Torn. Since he had never experienced anything else, he eventually started noticing all the little slights he was exposed to in his daily life, but now, the roles were reversed: now his friends were the unwanted, those who could not be trusted, and he was treated with indifference. And for him, indifference was all he had ever wanted.

In fact, within the Calastian empire, foreigners and non humans were all treated with mistrust. Dwarves and elves were considered not much better than titanspawn, and halflings were viewed as a failed experiment by some demented titans, and they should best be used as slaves. On top of all that, the people of Lageni considered everybody from Durrover a grumpy buffoon and a dwarf in human form, and since it was obvious that Niklas was a Durroverian, he was hit by the full force of the local's spite. Jan was treated little better, since his fair skin, blue eyes and red beard clearly showed that he was a foreigner, so that he too was treated like a subhuman form of life, even though he hid his holy symbol of Corean, knowing that he would achieve little by openly displaying it.

This left Torn. Fortunately for him, King Virduk of Calastia had realized early on that if he gave a home to the half orcs within his realm, he could easily gain fierce warriors who would be bound to him by the bonds of gratitude and obedience. So, as the decades went by, the people of all parts of the empire got used to the sight of well fed and well armed halforcs. For Torn that meant that this time, it wasn't him who raised suspicions, but his friends.

Since they had no horses, they had to walk to Durm, and seeing no reason to stay in Kulomi any moment longer then necessary, they left on the same day on which they had arrived. The dusty road was flanked by fields on both sides, and it meandered eastwards, around small hills and ponds.

As far as the weather and the crops were concerned, it looked just like in Durrover, but soon, they noticed differences. The peasants were often haggard, as if they didn't get to eat much of their own harvest and they lived in small structures. Every now and then, they saw splendid mansions owned by the noblemen- whereas the peasants were much poorer here than at home, the noblemen seemed to live a much richer life in contrast.

They camped on the road side and got going again by the first light of morning- they didn't want to attract too much attention to their attention here, and walked on. The march was rather dull. The rainclouds had disappeared in their back with the Eni and they were now bathed in sunlight.

As the shadows they threw ahead of them grew longer and longer, and they reached yet another hill to climb, their dull boredom was suddenly interrupted. There, on the road up on the hill, there was a man staggering towards them and constantly glancing over his shoulder as if he were running from something.

As he came down, the heroes saw that he had been badly treated: his face was battered and bruised and his body was covered in minor wounds. Jan ran forward, intent on helping the man, and suddenly he saw something that made him almost stop dead in his tracks: the tattered rags the man was wearing had clearly once been the uniform of a Lageni soldier!

Now, seeing help coming, the man limped forward a few steps, while he was grinning madly and waving at the fiends, but then his tortured body didn’t stand it anymore, and he collapsed.

Immediately, Jan was over him, and channeling the healing powers that Madriel lent to the followers of Corean, he healed the man. As some of his wounds closed, he started awake and rasped: „Quickly! You’ve got to get off the road! If they see you with me...“

Jan, surprised by the urgency of his patient, was about to ask who the strange man was talking about, as the answer was presented to him. Hearing hooves, he glanced up and saw twenty soldiers on war horses coming over the hill. Recognizing the black plate mail, Jan instantly saw that they were lead by a broad shouldered man with a shaven beard and an arrogant smirk who was wearing the black plate mail of the Black Dragoons.

Still resting the fugitive’s head in his lap, Jan looked up as the Black Dragoon rode right up to him, until he was towering over him. Still smirking, the Dragoon said: „My name is Colonel Gihjan. The man you have here is a wanted fugitive from Duke Traviak’s justice. May I assume that you have stopped him here with the intent of turning him over?“


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## Nightfall

And now they get to see some of the "vaunted" justice of Duke Travik. The guy that could teach Virduk a few things and probably scare the piss out of most Blackguards.


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## Talix

Hmm, this could slow their diplomatic mission down in a big hurry.


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## Lars Frehse

*Southwards- part 4 of 4*

Jan looked up and around- his friends were as frozen as himself. For a moment, everything was possible: if they burst out in sudden violence now, they would surely get the Dragoon and the soldiers by surprise, and maybe, they could rescue this man from their clutches. But on the other hand, they had a mission, and not only would they endanger their own lives, but the ritual of how to destroy the amphora could stay unknown for too long, until the servants of the Serpentmother would get a hold of the terrible artifact again...

The moment passed, and Torn said: „Yes, of course, sir“. Jan didn’t object and hung his head to hide his shame and anger, and the moment of choice had passed. There was nothing they could do.

„Very well, then“, the Colonel said, his smirk resounding in his haughty voice: „I will have to ask you to accompany us briefly. We need merely take him back to the site of his crime, so he may be judged. If you are actually his accomplices, we will find out, and you will be dealt with. If however, you are truly innocent travelers who just stumbled over him, you are of course free to go.“

Gihjan gestured his soldiers and immediately, they surrounded the adventurers. There was nothing for them to do but go with the soldiers. Fortunately, it was merely a two miles march and then they found themselves in an open pasture in the middle of a field of wheat. Gathered around, there were ten more soldiers, and about a dozen men, women and children who were dressed in the simple garbs of serfs.

One of the families was shackled together at the ankles and in the middle of the pasture there was a wooden framework in the middle of the pasture with a pair of manacles hanging from the crossbar at the top. Before the friends could take in the entire scene, however, two soldiers had already taken the runaway soldier and after having dragged him to the structure, they chained him to the structure.

The soldiers were taking their time, while Colonel Gihjan orchestrated their work, and one of the soldiers who was watching over the group stepped up between Torn and Jan. Looking straight ahead past them to the frame, he asked with a hushed voice: „How did you poor devils get caught up in this?“.

Torn and Jan turned to him shortly: the soldier had the olive skin of the south combined with the stocky frame of the Kelders, and even though he seemed to be not much older than they were, his brown eyes looked tired and world-weary. Turning his head back to the scene of how the man they had met just an hour ago was manacled to the frame, Torn said: „We were travelling to Durm when he stumbled over us and broke down the moment he saw us. What is going on here?“

The soldier stared forwards, and hardly moving his lips, he said: „The people here have been gathered for one of the Colonel’s lessons in obedience, as he calls it. The old man in the middle of that chained family said something to the Colonel. I wasn’t able to hear what it was, but the Colonel didn’t like it. No, not at all.“

The two soldiers had the semi-concious man hanging in the manacles now, but for some reason Colonel Gihjan didn’t like it. He scolded one of the soldiers with cold fury in his eyes, his voice too low for the friends to hear, and the men hastily opened the shackles again, hurridly trying to fixate the man in a way that would please their superiors.

Meanwhile, the soldier who had been talking to Jan and Torn, though the other three were close enough to listen as well, continued: „ So he starts whipping them for minutes, and after the poor sod’s back was crisscrossed with bleeding stains, the girl steps in and insults the Colonel, calling him something you never want to call a Dragoon. He was furious and so he...“

The soldier swallowed drily, and then went on: „He ordered the nearest soldier to rape the girl, in front of her father, and then slit her throat. The soldier was Zedris... You met him...

„Anyway, I have seen many things in battle, but this? This is not what I signed up for, and neither did Zedris. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, so he ran... And now he is back here, poor bugger. Let’s just hope he will get a quick death.“.

By now, Gihjan and the soldiers were done tying Zedris to the frame, and they stepped back from the frame. Zedris was hanging spread-eagled, suspended by his wrists while his legs were tied to the side-beams of the frame and there was already blood running down fromt where the manacles were cutting into his arms.

Colonel Gihjan positioned himself in the middle of the pasture, where he waited until he was sure that he had the attention of all villagers, soldiers and foreigners: „This“, he announced with a booming voice, „is the fate of all traitors to Duke Traviak and the chain of command!“

He turned to the shackled family: „You people drew the rightful wrath of the Black Dragoon. I am within my rights to execute you all along with the traitor.“

„However“, he continued after a small pause, „I am prepared to grant mercy to you. After all, in a way, I have to be thankful to you: Unwittingly you have exposed a much more dangerous criminal in my own ranks by your actions.“

Still staring at them with his menacing dark eyes, he gestured with a black-gauntleted hand, which prompted nearby soldiers to remove the family’s manacles. Then, with another gesture he summoned other soldiers which brought in three wheelbarrows full of stones and heavy branches, which they put in front of the dazed family.

Turning his back to the family, Colonel Gihjan adressed the rest of the crowd: „The sentence for treason is death.“

Then, he suddenly spinned around, and now he was staring at the family again: „You  may now prove your loyalty to Duke Traviak and your own sentence shall be deferred.“.

For a few seconds, nothing happened, and the pasture was absolutely silent. Then, the man who had been whipped by Colonel Gihjan, his daughter who had almost been raped and murdered and all the other members of the family picked up sticks and stones...

They didn’t have the heart to use all their force against Zedris, and thus it took them minutes which felt like hours to kill the very man who couldn’t bring himself to harm them. Meanwhile, tears of rage were burning in the eyes of the friends. There was nothing they could do but watch- they knew that even if not all of the soldiers approved of their colonel’s behaviour, they would immediately attack them should they try to interfere.

So, as Zedris was slowly being killed and his cries of pain and agony were reaching out for heaven, the friends could just as well have been chained to the ground, and each of them knew that no matter what else was going to happen in their further lives, these moments would haunt them in their nightmares forever.

When it was over, Colonel Gihjan instructed the peasants to not take off the corpse of the deserteur from the frame until it had been picked clean by the birds, and then, when they were gone, he went over to instruct his soldiers about future operations.

Not being dismissed, the friends waited, until, almost as if in an afterthought, the Colonel turned to them: „Oh, Zedris confirmed that you were chance encounters. You are free to go“. And with that, they were already gone and away for all that he could care.

Silent, the friends moved on. Soon, the sun set, and they set up a silent camp, all of them too consumed by their own thoughts to talk much. They had seen that the divine folks didn’t necessarily act less wickedly and cruelly than any titanspawn, and their journey through these lands of worshippers of the tyrant god was far from over just yet...


----------



## Nightfall

And that was just the low level one.  I have to say I really enjoyed that part. I'm sure the party was pretty shocked by it.


----------



## Lars Frehse

Oh, they were. This was really one of the best parts of the adventure, and I hope we will get to my other favorite part this sunday. (I am one week behind right now).

And regarding that other part: Shadow, I will tell you then, which part I mean. You probably know which one I mean: a rather innovative thing I hadn't seen anywhere else before. But: hush! Don't say it! At least one of my players is reading that, so we don't want to spoil the surprise! 

There is one thing I would like to say about this next update: Usually a chapter starts at the beginning of one session and end with the end of a session. This time, however, Jan had risen in level at the end of the session, so we had played a little more in order to integrate something pretty important for him. However, I wanted the other chapter to end with the execution, so this time, the chapter starts with something that had actually had happened at the end of the session before, after EPs had been distributed.

Enjoy!


----------



## Lars Frehse

*An audience with the archfiend part 1*

The next morning, Jan was woken up by a strange sensation: something wet was touching his face again and again. Resistant to open his eyes just yet, and vaguely guessing that one of his friends was playing a practical joke that had something to do with a wet towel on him, he turned around but the sensation remained.

He opened his eyes, and there, right in front of his face, in the middle of a wheat field that was still moist with the morning dew, there was the face of a horse staring back at him and apparently it’s slightly wet nose had caused the sensation that woke him. Fully awake all of a sudden, he got himself up in a sitting position, and the horse stepped back two steps, still eyeing him.

There was gray dust of the road on the horse which seemed to be of perfect white beneath the dirt, and even though as big as a warhorse it looked too thin, as if it hadn’t been fed well enough. There were the tell tale marks of a yoke around it’s neck and there were freshly healed scars on it’s flanks, showing that it had been frequently whipped in the past.

Jan got up. The horse seemed very young and it’s eyes were full of wisdom and intelligence. He gently caressed the horse’s forehead with his right hand, and as he removed the dirt, he saw it:  A silvery mark in the form of the eight swords of Corean on the horse’s forehead, and it shimmered so brightly in the morning light, that it almost looked as if the hair was made of silver.

For a moment, he was tossed back into his peaceful and pleasant childhood. Then, his favorite bedtime story had been the story of Permenthes, and so often did he make his father or his mother tell it to him, that Niklas, who slept in one bed with him, had gotten tired and even annoyed with it after having it heard over and over again.

Long before the Titanswar, Permenthes had been a Paladin of Corean, who, after having commited many noble deeds for Corean, he raised a temple in his name. However, so eager was he to raise this temple, that he completely ignored the needs of the people who worked on it. One day, a man too old and feeble to work on the temple came to Permenthes, asking for shelter, but Permenthes merely cursed the man for not working on the temple.

Then, Corean dropped the disguise, and Permenthes was shocked, as he realized how pride and ambition had pushed him onto a path that was against the ideals of his god. Corean cursed him, and turned Permenthes into a horse, so that he should learn humilty.

But Permenthes, having learned his lesson and accepting the judgement of the great champion, continued to serve Corean as good as he could. He wandered the lands and helped the servants of Corean as a mount, fought the enemies of his god, and even when he saw farmers who could need a strong steed to pull the plow, he wasn’t above doing that.

Then, one day, he walked through badlands, where he came upon a deserted village. There he was attacked by an old woman with a pitchfork, whom he smote to the ground. Now, the old Permenthes would have killed the woman who had dared attack him, but now, he paused, and so he found out that the reason the woman had attacked him was that she was merely trying to feed her starving family.

He offered her to lead her out of the wasteland, and after having drawn the family on a rickety wagon to the plains, he stopped and contemplated the situation. He saw that they were safe, but without food they wouldn’t make it to the nearest settlement, and so he told them to kill and eat him in order to survive. The family did so with a heavy heart and survived, and the old woman prayed for Corean to forgive his cursed son.

Permenthes soul travelled to heaven, and having redeemed himself in the eyes of the Avenger, Corean offered him former position of glory. But Permenthes refused, asking only to continue to serve as he had done for so long now. And so he returned, in the form of a warhorse, serving as the herald of Corean.

Ever since, he had given birth to a new line of horses: the coreanic steeds: noble horses filled with the spirit of their ancestor who served Paladins who had proven that they were worthy of their service. And here, in front of Jan, in the middle of the cursed lands of the followers of the slave-driver, one such coreanic steed had found and chosen him.

He couldn’t remember a happier moment. All the horrors of the last day were wiped from his mind as he first embraced his new companion and then began to concentrate on taking care of it’s fur, watched by his puzzled friends, who had only now gotten up.

They marched and rode on and Jan was too focused on his newfound friend to notice much of the other things around him. Then, on the next day, as they were moving a long the road to Durm in a constant rain, they ran into Colonel Gihjan again, this time only with two soldiers. For a moment, they thought of attacking him, but seeing how they were already so unusual looking that most peasants which had seen them would remember them, they didn’t take the risk. And so, they simply waited on the side of the road as he and his guards rode past them in the rain.

Except for one further incident, the journey to Durm remained uneventful. For all the terror Lageni spread in the neighboring countries, it was almost boring within. So they were almost happy to see a diversion on the road in form of  a single woman- the road had been far from empty, but a blackhaired beauty like her was sure to raise a smile from most of the men. She was dressed in a well worn leather armor, and there was a light mace hanging from her belt and she wore her beautiful hair in a single long braid.

As she passed the party, she nodded a polite greeting, and then stopped, staring above and beyond them: „Odd. Those are northern crows that live around here are much larger, with more of a curse to the beak. I wonder what they are doing this far south?“.

The men turned to look, and seeing that the crows were still far too far away for her to possibly see so much detail, they turned back, but she was gone. Checking the ground, they saw that her tracks had vanished, too, and all Ben found with his wolflike sense of smell was the lingering smell of sandlewood.

„Now, what was that all about?“, Trepat asked, voicing what they all were thinking.


----------



## Nightfall

Two cool things I must admit. One, Jan got a Coreanic Steed. (BIG plus! Probably one of my favorite mounts and I'm glad Jan was worth of such a deed. And gaining a level rocked too.  ) Two, that encounter with the Lady...mm well I can't wait to see what part Illthusa(sp) plays in the final chapter. (Willing to bet it's a signficiant one.)


----------



## Nightfall

Lars Frehse said:
			
		

> *Oh, they were. This was really one of the best parts of the adventure, and I hope we will get to my other favorite part this sunday. (I am one week behind right now).
> 
> And regarding that other part: Shadow, I will tell you then, which part I mean. You probably know which one I mean: a rather innovative thing I hadn't seen anywhere else before. But: hush! Don't say it! At least one of my players is reading that, so we don't want to spoil the surprise!
> *




Personally I hope you use the Archfiend after the Cycle is done. He's a really interesting character AND make a great foe for the party.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*An audience with the archfiend- part 2*

In the evening, they reached Durm, where Lagenian noblemen paraded the cobbled streets with their halfling-slaves in tow and where gas-lanterns where keeping the streets light and safe well into the night. Soldiers were patrolling the streets, and here, along the main road, all they could see were signs of prosperity and strength.

They slept in an inn, and then climbed the hill to Castle Durm, where they had to wait in a queue well into the afternoon. Then, after stating that they wanted to see the archfiend, they were ushered to a building within the fortress’s wall, which seemed indistinguishable for the other buildings within the concept except for the graving of the warsceptre of Chardun engraved in it’s doors.

As they approached the gate, they were ushered in by young priests of Chardun, who told them that the service was just about to begin. Inside, there was one massice chamber, with hard stone benches and a raised altar with a fireplace burning behind it. Weapons of all sorts and tapestries depicting Chardun battling all kinds of foes were hanging from the front wall, and there were about 150 people in the church, leaving about one third of the seats empty.

Feeling slightly uncomfortable among the devout followers of the Great Slaver, they sat down in the back of the hall, as a man stepped up to the altar. He was a broad shouldered, scarred man in his forties with a wild read beard and the top-knot of a warrior. This, wearing the black platemail of the dragoons with a white vestment that was stained bloodred at the bottom, was Archfiend Fiarun, the man they had come to see.

After one long look at his congregation, one hand resting on his huge battlemace which was hanging on his side, he raised his other hand and began his sermon:

“Greetings!

Again we have gathered here to praise our lord and show him that our hearts are pure and that we, his faithful, will happily continue to serve him, no matter what shall happen!

Chardun is our lord, and King Virduk and Archduke Traviak are his most loved servants on our world. Chardun is the one who gives us power and instills our hearts and arms with the force we need to smite our foes.

And truly: Now, more then ever, we are in need of his strength! Now that we are beset by the selfish and unbelieving from all sides! Even now, as I speak to you, they plan our downfall and try to strangle us with their plots and viciousness!

Without the strength of Chardun, and the strength of heart to fight relentlessly against our enemy we will give them the breathing-space to throw a web of intrigue and hatred over us, in which we would be caught like helpless salmons caught by a fisherman. Sure: We may not fall today. Maybe not even next year. But eventually, we will: And the ones who will suffer the most are those who can't defend themselves: Our children!

I am telling you: those who don’t want to be merciless against our foes now, those, who speak of peace, those, who think that we can live on friendly terms with the people of Durrover, Burok Torn, and our many other enemies, those are the ones who ultimately want our downfall. After all, there is only one thing that makes the dwarves and their half-human cousins carry on their futile and stubborn battle against us: it is their deep and ingrained hatred of us! They hate everything we stand for and everything we believe in. For them, peace and respect is not an option! They don’t even have a word for „respect“ in their languages!

Instead, they continue to fight, and while they could have long ago given peace to the world by surrendering to our terms, they are wasting the lives of many good soldiers and innocents with their stupid pride and destructive stubbornness! And because their mindless hatred of our superior ways and superior beliefs has cost so many lives already, we shall not falter and let up until they are defeated and the unneccesary bloodshed will end! After all, we are serving him who had defeated many titans with his own very own hand, and we shall continue his struggle against chaos and disorder.

For what is this freedom our enemies seek? It is the freedom to live up any twisted and perverted act their sick minds would fancy! It is the freedom to let the threat of the titanspawn spread again! It is the freedom to abuse and even persecute the faithful of Chardun! It is the freedom to destroy and subvert everything Calastia and Lageni had built up and defended vigilantly until this very day and in all eternity.

I ask you: Is this the freedom that we want?“

He paused for a moment, and the crowd, already agitated and excited, roared back at their leader, their master, and their voices were melting together into one deafening roar that left no space for second thoughts or doubts:“ NOOOO!“

The speech continued like that for another two hours. Archfiend Fiarun mostly concentrated on the need to grow strong in order to rule over the weak and the duty that the strong had to rule over those who were below him. He was a gifted orator, but still the friends saw that Fiarun was twisting every concept of what was good, right and true. What he was teaching was embracing evil and violence with the goal to fight evil and violence. He was skilled enough to make those who wanted peace look evil while the ones who pushed for war at any price were heroic.

Listening to him, you could almost believe that it was really Calastia and Lageni who were pushing for peace and order, while nations like Vesh, Burok Torn and the Knights of Mithril were basically throwing Ghelspad into chaos. Fortunately, the worshippers were too caught up with the speech to notice the friends’ lack of enthusiasm.

When it was over, they were granted an audience by the archfiend. Seeing no alternative, they told him the truth, that they were sent to find the ritual to destroy an artifact that had the essence of Mormo in it.

Fiarun told them about a wizard and priest who had indeed developed such a ritual, and upon his death he had risen from the grave and enslaved the people of several nearby villages to engrave this ritual and others into the walls of his tomb. As the archfiend told this grisly story he got excited by his admiration for this kind of strength of will, but suddenly stopped: „No. No! No, I will not have the tomb of one of our greatest sages and most learned saints defiled by a band of nonbelievers! Not even to destroy one of the Bitch Queen’s relics. I am sorry, but you will have to find another way.“.

Torn tried to convince the archfiend of the urgency of their mission, but the Archfiend interrupted him with a wave of his hand: „Enough. Unless you swear fealty to Chardun and learn his ways, it can’t be gone.“.

Staring at each of them menacingly for a moment, he continued: „That doesn’t seem to be the case. Be gone now.“.

All of them heard the threats in the evil priest’s voice, and so they left the temple. Outside as they were briskly walking to the gate of the fortress Torn said: „You guys noticed it too, didn’t you?“

“Yes, he slipped up and mentioned the name of one of the villages“, Jan answered „did you catch it.“.

„I got it“, Niklas said after they had silently went through the gate and out of earshot of the guards: „Vauldell.“.


----------



## Nightfall

Thus it's off to the Vault.  I hope they manage to do alright!


----------



## Lars Frehse

*An audience with the archfiend- part 3 of 4*

It took them most of the rest of the day to find a map with Vauldell in it, and after they had bought that one from a greasy trader, they left Durm without spending any moment longer there than necessary. Since it had taken them quite a while to even find a proper map and they didn’t want to stay in this Corean-forsaken town any minute longer than necessary, they didn’t even bother to haggle anymore, paying twice what it was worth.

Their journey to Vauldell took them northeastwards, well into the spread-out foothills of the Kelders. Throughout the trip it was raining in a slow but steady downpour, so that they were damp and wet all of the time. They were now closer to Oreirover than they had been ever since they had fled the assault of the Dragoons, and if it weren't for the almost impassable barrier posed by the Kelders, they could even reach it in just a few days.

On the evening of the third day, they found the town that the archfiend had mentioned. However, the term "town" was clearly an overstatement. There were only a few houses huddled around a small square, but the remaining foundations which were jutting out of the ground occasionally hinted at a much more populated past of the place. The way it looked, there had once been well over a hundred houses here, whereas now merely a dozen remained.

It appeared that after the village had lost a good part of it's population and the years went by, the remaining villagers had used the empty houses for the building material- walls between the fields, fortifying irrigation ditches or for repairs of their own homes. All in all it was a depressing place, and the lowhanging and opressive looking grey sky didn't do much to make it look any better.

On one muddy plot of land in front of the village, there seemed to be a single and lonely cemetary. There, in front of a fresh grave that was covered with flowers which were being washed out by the steady rain, they saw a single man in a wet, mudstained robe. He was praying, and only after Niklas cleared his throat, did he seem to notice the group of men behind him. He turned around, and they saw that he was an old grey-haired man who, to their surprise, wore the symbol of Hedrada.

"Welcome travellers! What brings you to our humble village?"

"We are just passing through", Niklas said.

"Well, you must certainly be on an unusual route to come through this forsaken place.", the priest answered, showing nothing but friendly curiosity."But forgive my lack of manners. I am just not used to making new acquaintances anymore! My name is Elam, and I am the priest of Vauldell, as we call our little place here.".

Torn introduced himself and his friends, and then, as if on second thought, he added:" And what has happened to this place? It looks like something bad has befallen it at some point".

"Ah, you saw the old foundations. Yes, you are right- something bad indeed had befallen this place. Many decades ago, when I was still a young lad who was just about to turn into a man, we had been enslaved by a priest of Chardun who had returned from his grave.

"He forced his will on every single soul in the villages, be it man, woman, child or the old and weak. For a long time we worked on his tomb. I hardly remember anything from that time, it is all covered by a haze, but in the end, many of the workers had died from exhaustion. And among those who survived and returned to their villages and towns, most didn't stay for long- they left for other parts of the country, fearing that the fiend may come for them again. And so this once thriving town was deserted and we are now merely a poor little village of less than a hundred souls."

"Have you ever heard from that evil fiend again?", Jan asked.

"No, but about twenty years ago or so, a little group of adventurers asked for the way to the tomb. Apparently they were graverobbers, or something foolheartedly like that. I told them the way, and they never returned. But, see, it is getting dark and we are all wet. If you like, I will speak to some of the villagers for you so that you can get a place to sleep at.".

The next morning, after having gotten breakfast from overjoyed villagers, for whom the silver and gold the friends had given them were real treasures, they met on the townsquare. At last, the rain had stopped and the sun was now shining with all it's glory and reflecting a hundredfold in every small dirty puddle. After a quick exchange, they decided to tell the priest what they had come for. This looked like the best way to have him tell them where the tomb was.

They walked to his house, which was just a little bit bigger than the other buildings in the villages, and had the scales of Hedrada over it's doorway. After knocking and seeing that he wasn't in it, they went around it, and there in a small herbal garden, he was kneeling in the dirt and taking care of his plants.

Ben took a quick glance and saw that Elam was mostly growing medicinal herbs. They greeted the priest and thanked him for getting a place to sleep for them, and then they told him the truth about what had brought them here. He listened intently, and after warning them about the dangers that would certainly wait for them in the tomb, he told them how to get there.

Niklas, who felt with this man who was clearly trying to live a good life caring for his fellow villagers in this evil land handed him a bag with twohundred pieces of gold. It took some prodding, but ultimately, Elam accepted the gift: this was enough to buy enough grain and other needed things for the village to make it through an entire season, should they have bad luck with farming or if some other misfortune should happen to them.

He blessed them and they left, following the instruction the priest had given them. Around noon, they reached the valley he had described to them: a wooded, circular area free of hills, with only one hill that was topped with a crown of rock in the middle of it. The valley was rather peaceul, and the biggest living creature they encountered was an excited squirrel that ran up it's tree as the friends turned around a corner.

They climbed up the hill and the ledge of which the friendly priest had told them, but as they reached the plateau with the entrance, they stopped dead in their tracks. There, strewn all over the rock, they saw the remnants of several skeletons. Trepat knelt down, and looking at the remnants of the skeletons:"The battle happened days, maybe just hours ago. They have already been skeletons when they were battling..."

He went over to one skeleton that had it's bones connected by vines:" It looks like a bunch of the skeletons here were of the variety we had encountered on the day before we met the Taurosphinx. As weird as it may sound, they seem to have wiped out each other!".

"Strange", Niklas said:"Can you find any other tracks?"

"Yes, here. One humanoid, rather small. An elf, maybe or a human woman. And it looks like these tracks lead nowwhere, but rather disappeared here in the middle of the ledge.".

"Let me take a sniff at this", Ben said, putting on his wolf-skull. He went to the spot where the tracks disappeared and smelled the ground:" This smells like sandlewood. It is the same smell the woman who had pointed at the crows had left behind...".


----------



## Nightfall

Mmm mysteries deepen...can't wait until they make it to the Cave. Oh what fun awaits them THERE!


----------



## Lars Frehse

*An audience with the archfiend- part 4 of 4*

There was nothing they could do right now to solve this mystery, so Niklas and Jan lit up their lanterns and went into the big halfcircular caveopening that was the entrance of the tomb. There was one artificial tunnel leading further into the tomb, and there was a chest on a pedestal over the tunnel. The walls of the cave itself were covered with abstract symbols, depicting gods, old people looking after kids, scribes writing tomes and skeletal and partly skeletal men and women, which gestured to the open hallway, as though ushering in visitors.

"Immortality", Trepat said, and as he saw that his friends didn't seem to understand, he continued:"All the images in here have something to do with immortality. Either as a gift from the gods, or as living on in your descendants or your work, or as immortality in unlife...

"And there is a spell hidden among the symbols as well. I think it enables you to tell the age of one person or creature.".

Torn nodded. It certainly made sense:"What do you think about that chest there, should we take it?"

"I would rather not", Niklas answered," after all, we didn't come here to loot this place. I don't think it would be wise either. If the sage had been able to return from the grave once, he could probably do so again...".

"You're right", Torn said and then, after making sure that the corridor wasn't trapped, he walked into it, his friends right behind him.

The tunnel lead them to a fork, and as they were about to turn left, Trepat noticed something odd with the wall that was opposite the corridor through which they had entered. Together with Torn, they figured out the opening mechanism, and having opened the secret door which lead to a further corridor, they entered it without much further ado.

The corridor lead them to a temple-like hall. Here the ceiling was twenty feet high, giving the structure a lofty feeling, and each of the six pillars which were supporting the vaulting ceiling were carved with the likeness of one of the gods. To their surprise, each of the heroes, even Ben, saw the six gods that were closest to his ideals due to the innate magic of the collums. The walls were adorned with another spell that seemed to somehow bolster undead servants, as Trepat concluded after reading it's magic.

At the end of the temple, there was a massive marble altar with a bowl shaped depression around which this statement was carved in Ledean:"Whosoever would seek the favor of the gods on high must prove his devotion.". Jan, who walked into the temple, surprised at it's spartan and simple beauty, sent a short prayer to Corean and then placed some coins into the depression. To their surprise, the coins disappeared and with them, some small scratches he had gotten while climbing the hill magically healed up as well, until there weren't even any scratches left.

Behind the depression, there was a tome named "Divine Wrongs". Jan picked it up and took a casual look. It appeared to be about all the gods but Chardun, and after he read enough to make his head swim- clearly the author didn't care much about making his knowledge easily accessable, he put it back.

"We should check the walls and the floor. Maybe there is yet another secret door", Torn said, and as Niklas positioned himself at the entrance of the temple to take care of the rear, they they started to systematically examine the wall.

It was then that they noticed that they weren't quite as alone as they had thought. Two ghastly, dark and insubstantial figures stepped out of two pillars, all the while babbling and whining in what sounded like maddening, crazed self-pity. Except for Niklas, who did not find the stomach to attack those pityful and tortured souls, the others entered the fight, and those who were touched by the allips, as that particular form of ghost was called, felt their very own strength of will waning. Then Jan summoned the force of Corean through his sword, and as he held it up, it shone with a bright light from which the undead fled in terror.

Thinking that it was the end of it- neither Jan nor his friend had ever seen anything like that before, they continued their search, but after a while, the fear that Corean had planted in the allips' hearts wore off and they returned again. This time, the friends defeated the mad creatures and after being sure that there were no secret doors left, they returned to the fork in the corridor and headed right where they had originally intended.

There, after a turn, the corridor went straight ahead, except for two pits in it. Feeling suspicious, after all an open pit was hardly the kind of defense a mad and wicked undead sage would construct, they carefully examined the pit, and after finding nothing, Niklas volunteered to jump over the pits.

As he jumped, he worried whether there would really be solid ground on the other side, or rather another concealed pit or something even worse. But nothing happened, he landed safely after the first pit and then after the second one as well. He shrugged: at least he stood in front of the door now, even though he was puzzled what this had been all about. Then he fastened a rope and waited till his friends had climbed over the two pits to his side of the corridor.

Trepat was last to go, and as he was hanging from the rope in the second pit, he suddenly called out: "Wait a minute, I think there is another door here!"

He was right. The pit was twenty feet deep, and about ten feet deep, there was a hidden doorway leading north. Leaving Ben behind. who wanted to stay with Swift Jane, they climbed down on a rope and then swung themselves into the corridor beyond.

After a short corridor, they found themselves in yet another natural cave. Here, the walls were engraved with symbols of the elements of water, fire and air, while earth was obviously represented by one unadorned wall. Like in the other rooms, there was a spell engraved into the walls hidden among the symbols, another one of Marilvaz's inventions called protection from elementals.

Suddenly, the lanterns of both Jan and Niklas's lanterns exploded simultanously, and the fires in them turned into vaguely humanoid shaped creatures of about halfling-size, attacking the former lantern bearers right away. In spite of the absurdity of the situation, all of them were too experienced by now to let a surprising turn of events slow them down in any way. With the firmness of sleepwalkers, each of the friends immediately took up his standard position in a battle: Torn came in swinging with his magical chain, while Niklas, not wanting to burn his fists pulled out his glaive. His brother had his shield and sword ready in one swift motion and Trepat started attacking the small elementals with his spells, trying to get out of the actual melee.

But then, their waterskins exploded, and along with the two fire elementals, they had to deal with four small water elementals as well. They fought on, until suddently out of Trepat's and Torn's mouth, the elf had cast a spell at the moment and the halforc shouted a warning, the air compressed and formed two vaguely cloudlike entities.

Outnumbered, they fought a tiring battle, and thanks to Niklas's quickness of mind, they didn't have to fight in the dark. After all, with the lanterns broken, the two fire elementals were the only source of light they had. As he saw that the second one was about to be defeated, he lit one of his sunrod and threw it to the ground before going on to attack the next elemental. 

Eventually, though, suffering from many small wounds, they had defeated their supernatural foes. Still there was no trace of the ritual they were searching for, and they could only guess how many other surprises the evil sage Marilvaz had in stock for them.


----------



## Nightfall

Marilvaz is definately one sadistic SOB!


----------



## Lars Frehse

*The tomb of Marilvaz the scribe*

"Since there had been a secret door in this pit, I would like to check out the other one as well", Torn announced, and shortly after, he was in the first pit, searching the walls for hallowed spaces. It didn't take long until he called up to them:"Found it!".

In this pit, the secret door opened up to a corridor. It ended after a turn in front of a spiral staircase which lead into an irregular shaped room with mirrors coverin every wall. Niklas noticed that every bit of furniture in it, two couches, two tables and six chairs were all exactly mirrored along an imaginary line that went diagonally through the room. He wondered whether there was any item that was breaking the symmetrie, but as he looked around and saw his image reflected on one of the mirrors to his left, he felt an odd tugging feeling. Within the timespan of a blink of the eye, he was sucked into the mirror, disappearing and leaving his clothes and equipment behind, which crashed to the floor.

For a moment, noone dared looking up. After all, if Niklas had been sucked into one of the mirrors, the same fate could happen to one of them as well. Then, Torn looked up and looked to the mirror through which the monk had disappeared, and nothing happened. He turned around once, looking at each wall, and in each of them, he saw himself being reflected a thousandfold, because every mirror not only reflecting the interior of the room, but countless other mirrors as well.  "I think it is safe now", he said.

"Where could he have gone?", Trepat said, looking around now as well.

Torn, who had just opened the door to the left of the mirror through which Niklas had been sucked closed the door again:"He is not in here. There is only a corridor behind this door.".

"I think I've solved it", Jan said. As Trepat and Torn turned around, neither one of them bothering to hide the surprise at their companion who hadn't overcome many intellectual challenges in the past, he started to lecture:" This room has the form of two overlapping rectangles, right? The overlapping part, if visualized, would have the form of a perfect square.

"Now, there are two corners of the room, which are not directly mirrored, because the imagined mirroring line disappears in the wall. Those parts of the room, if looked at seperately, are triangles, which again, if put together would form yet another perfect square, of exactly the same size as the first square!".

He looked around in triumph. At last he had shown that he was as good at solving puzzles as anyone of them.

"And what does that have to do with our monk getting sucked through that mirror or with how we can get him back?", Torn asked.

"Err, I don't know. I have just noticed the geometrical form of the room and thought back to the time when the monks taught us aspiring knights just that", Jan answered, the look of triumph in his face now substituted with confusion.

Trepat rolled his eyes up to the ceiling:"In the next village, I will get you a fingertrap to keep you busy in situations like that!".

Before Jan had time to figure out the implications of Trepat's last comment, Torn said:"I will try to shatter the mirror that is the duplicate of the one through which Niklas has disappeared." When none of his friends objected, Trepat agreed, and Jan was still trying to finish his thought about the geometrical form of the room, he went ahead and smashed the mirror.

It shattered and it's fragments fell to the floor, and in the wall behind it, there was a small niche, but still there was no sign of their lost friend. He turned around and went over to the mirror through which Niklas had been sucked.

If this was a portal, then shattering could mean that they would be cut off forever from their friend. And if his soul was trapped in there, shattering the mirror could shatter his soul... For a moment, Torn halted, staring at and through his reflection in the mirror. Then, without thinking again, he raised his axe and smashed the mirror.

Again, it shattered, and again there was a niche behind it. This time, however, three things were different from the other mirror. First of all, in the niche, there was yet another tome. Secondly, Niklas fell naked to the floor among the shards of the mirror. The third difference, however, immediatley focused all the attention in the room on it: a well built, young and attractive woman fell to the ground as well.

As Niklas picked himself up, she said:"Thank you, noble heroes! At last I am free!".

Jan was the first to react:"Have you been trapped in that mirror?".

She was about to answer and Niklas interrupted her:"Yes, we have both been trapped in there." Then he got up and after picking up his own robe he handed her his spare robe with which she covered herself. Now, that speaking was easier again, Torn asked her:"How long have you been in there?"

"What year is it?"

"151 AV.".

She paused for a moment:"Oh, that is indeed longer than I had thought... Looks like I had been trapped in the mirror for twenty years!".

She then told them that her name was Mia, and that she had entered the tomb with some companions in order to get the tomes and spells hidden in there. She was merely a rogue and not trained in the art of spellcasting, but the sheer value of the books had made the risk worthwhile for her. The Chardun priest among the adventurers had explained to them, that Marilvaz actually wanted people to try and get the knowledge therein. The traps and riddles within were to make sure that only those who were whorthy of it would get it. After all, Chardun only rewarded those who overcame great obstacles and acted ruthlessly to achieve success.

It certainly made sense, and since she said that she didn't want to spend any more time in the tomb, they lead her to the exit. On the way, however, they picked up all the books and put them into their bag of holding for future use. Outside, Mia again thanked the heroes for her rescue and after Jan had given her some food and a couple of coins, she gave him a quick kiss and turned away to climb down the hill, leaving Jan behind with a sheepish grin and a crimson head.

Back in the dungeon they went into the mirrored room and through the door to the right. What they saw in their made Jan blush again, and while his brother did the same, Trepat and Torn were unable to wipe a smirk from their face: here the walls were covered with very detailed and realistic erotic murals showing members of all the divine races in every manner of intimacy. Furthermore, there were several life-sized marble statues, which were perfectly carved and like the murals on the wall, they were forever held in the throes of eternal passion.


----------



## Nightfall

Mia's free huh? Oh well can't blame them for not noticing. Freeing Niklas was more important. *shrug* Still hope they can get to the crypt soon.


----------



## Talix

Nightfall said:
			
		

> *Mia's free huh? Oh well can't blame them for not noticing. Freeing Niklas was more important. *shrug* Still hope they can get to the crypt soon.  *




Darn your cryptic comments that I don't understand because I haven't read the module!   

Oh well, great story!  Got some real evilness going on with the commander of the guard and the priest - very nitty-gritty, and realistic!  It's good for parties to occasionally realize that they just can't fix every situation.


----------



## Nightfall

Sorry Talix. It's not entirely intentional. But in any case think you'll be pleasantly surprised as how this all turns out. Sort of.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*The tomb of Marilvaz the sage- part 2*

Once they had recovered from their embarassement, they searched the room and while Torn and Trepat openly admired the murals and statues, Niklas and Jan tried to avoid looking at anything they considered pornographic- given the nature of the room, an almost impossible task.

All they found in the room, however, was another spell inscribed in the walls and a book about all forms of love. Since none of that seemed to help them on their mission, Torn put the book into his bag, and they went through the wooden door to the next room.

The room behind the door was vaguely diamond-shaped and filled with riches. Expensive tapestries lined the walls, the floor was covered with expensive rugs, there were messy heaps of coins in each corner and in the center of the opposite wall stood a marble fountain.

Amidst all that, ignoring the heroes, there was a ghostly figure, floating from one pile of coins to the next, gently moving his intangible fingers through them as if caressing the money. It was moaning softly, obviously gaining great pleasure from the coins which it could never spend, even though it’s face was too blurry to show any distinct features.

Carefully avoiding the ghost, they walked to the fountain, and as they started examining it, the undead kept on ignoring them, seemingly entranced by his wealth and oblivious to anything else. The water contained many tiny sparkling jewels, and around the base of the fountain, there was yet another spell inscribed. Trepat checked it and saw that it instills greed in the heart against whom this spell was cast.

„I can’t believe that there isn’t another exit in this room“, Niklas said, and they started searching the room for secred doors. As it turned out, they didn’t have to go far. „There is a trapdoor right beneath us“, Torn said pointing at the floor under him.

Still they didn’t find a mechanism to open the door, and so Trepat, who was looking for a clue, reached into the water of the fountain and grabbed a couple of gems, intending to take a closer look at them.

However, he didn’t have much time to analyze it, since at the very moment he pulled his fist full of gems out of the water, the behavior of the ghost changed. It screamed in a mixture of insanity and rage and rushed at the surprised elf.

As the wraith touched him, he felt a deadly cold creeping towards his heart. Instinctively he jumped back just in time- weakened but alive. Immediately his friends started attacking him and he shot a magical missile at the ghost. But still, the ghost was there, reaching out for Trepat again. Trepat took a step backwards, but now he felt the rim of the fountain drilling into his back. There was no way for any further retreat, so he jumped to the side, and the wraith (for that’s what the undead creature was) missed him.

Again, his friends attacked it with their magical weapons, hoping to draw it’s attention towards them, but it wasn’t defeated yet. Again, it reached out, and sending a silent prayer to Tanil, Trepat cast another magical missile at the ghost. The energy blast hit it right in the centre, and as it’s intangible hand was merely an inch from Trepat’s chest, it completely dissolved. Trepat had been saved in the proverbial last second.

Now that the wraith was gone, they searched through the room. The piles of coins turned out to be mostly coppercoins which were covered with just a few gold and silver coins, and the „gems“ in the fountain were merely glass or too small to be of any worth.

„Maybe the fountain is the key“, Jan said. „After all, it seems to be a wishing fountain. Hold on!“.

He pulled out a gold coin, closed his eyes, wishing for the trapdoor to open, and dropped the coin in the fountain. The coin disappeared, but the door didn’t open.

„Maybe it is the amount of money we have to throw in there. One gold piece may not suffice“, Trepat said.

Niklas, who had been watching silently so far said:“ We could try the gold and silver coins we got from those piles. It would make sense, since I wouldn’t expect the sage to put any treasures into his tombs except for his books and spells. He probably has devised this thing as a means to make sure that the gold and silver will stay here.“.

„Alright“, Torn said and poured the gold and silver coins into the fountain. Like the single coin before, all of them disappeared now and the trapdoor in the floor lifted and opened itself, giving way to a shaft that lead down into the darkness below.

In a small niche in the shaft, there was yet another tome by Marilvaz, called „Ravages of Wealth“ and below, there was yet another dark corridor. It went around two bends only to suddely end in front of an area of magical darkness, which the lanterns and torches of the group couldn’t fight back and which was even impenetrable for Torn’s orcish eyes.

They tied a rope around Niklas who volunteered to go ahead. Using his glaive as a pole to feel for walls and pits he went in, and right after entering, he noticed something strange- suddenly, he wasn’t in a corridor anymore and as he tentatively probed his surroundings with his glaive, he felt that there were no walls to his left or right anymore.

He turned around, and after merely one step, he was abruptly back in the torchlit corridor.

„There is something strange in the darkness“, he said and then, as he saw that his friends were pulling their weapons he turned around- but there was nothing behind him that could have promted that reaction.

„What is wrong“, he asked.

His brother surprised him, as he asked him:“Is it you, Niklas?“

„Yes sure.“.

„It is his voice“, Torn said, and nodding to Jan, he asked:“Is he evil?“.

Jan shook his head and Niklas saw with relief how his friends resheated their weapons: „What is wrong with you?“

„There seems to be some sort of illusion on you. You look like a ghoul, or some other undead creature. Hadn’t you spoken out and if the rope wouldn’t still be around your waist, I would have been fooled enough to attack you.“, Trepat said.

„Ah. Alright then. There is another problem: In the darkness, there is a labyrinth without walls.“, Niklas said, and then he explained to them what he had experienced.

Torn rolled up his eyes: „That „labyrinth without walls“ is called a hall. If you stick to one of the walls, you should be able to get around.“.

Realizing his misperception, Niklas walked back in. This time however, he returned after having turned merely two corners, and Trepat figured that there may be some sort of displacement device at the walls which took it’s victims to the opposite wall and turned it around: This would explain how Niklas had returned even though he would have had to turn four corners, not two. Maybe Niklas would have more success if he walked straight forward, Trepat suggested, and again the monk walked in.

Somewhere in the darkness, he stumbled over another tome which he picked up. Immediately, he could see a magical writing on the walls. Yet another spell, he thought, and now that he knew the size of the hall, he confidentely walked forward and suddenly he found himself in another forked corridor, the darkness behind him.

As his friends caught up with him, guided by his rope, he saw what they had meant, since each of them looked like a terribly deformed Zombie. But at least they were together again, and as they walked left to a spiral staircase that lead up, the illusion already started to wear off. They resumed their marching order with Torn up front and walked up to what turned out to be the gambling room of the tomb.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*The tomb of Marilvaz the sage- part 3 of 4*

The floor of the gaming room was covered with black and white tiles, giving it the look of an oversized chessboard. The only furniture in it were four tables and some chairs positioned around them.

On one table, there was the inevitable heavy tomb, on another several hands of cards lay facedown across from one another, and on the two other tables, there was a chessgame and the dwarvish game "brunholk". Curios about the cards, Niklas picked up a hand, and immediately, he felt the need to play a game.

He sat down and immediately the other hands of cards levitated up, as if held by invisible players. He played a card, and the other hands played themselves- and soon he forgot the strangeness of the situation and let the fascination and concentration that came with the game guide him. However he lost, and as he played his last losing card he felt an invisible fist punching him in the stomach, taking him by surprise. Breathing deeply for air and holding his stomach, he got up, as already Torn sat down, saying:"I wonder what happens if a game is won.".

The cards reshuffled themselves in the middle of the table, and as he picked up his hand of cards, the other hands went up and hovered over the table just like before. Unlike Niklas, however, he won the game, and as he got up, he felt that he was now slightly swifter than he had been before.

The game room was connected to another room by a short corridor. That room looked like a barracks in a normal stronghold, full with beds and even fake windows that gave a "view" to a training field. Immediately, three Chardun-slain, undead of the kind they had encountered near Hor'Kung, rose and attacked them. However, since they shied from Jan who channeled the divine power of Corean, they posed no real danger and were quickly dispatched.

Now, however, they had a problem: All of them were wounded and Trepat had spent his arcane energies for the day. After a quick exchange they took a look at the spell that was hidden in the picture windows- it's magic was intended to literally "salt the earth" for years and then, after bagging a tome on warfare, they went back to the game-room, where they set up camp.

Fortunately for them, their rest remained uneventful and so, after having taken care of their wounds, they doubled back to the last fork at which they had originally gone left. There they went straight ahead, and at yet another fork, that lead ahead and left, they turned left again.

For the third time since they had entered the tomb, they found themselves in a natural cave again. This time, however, it was obvious right away that there the cave had been manipulated.

In this massive cavern, several scraggly trees were clawing at the ceiling, owls were calling out from among the branches, while there was the howling of wolves somewhere in the distance and a pale moonlight filtered down from the cavern's ceiling. Rows after rows of of headstones were jutting out of the earthen floor, forming a stereotypical gothic graveyards.

They walked up to the gravestones, and for a moment they were set back: Each of them saw the names of their friends, family and even themselves on the graves! However, after they told each other, they soon figured out that it was merely a tasteless illusion. There weren't any names on the tombstones, but rather fragments of the language of magic.

As they examined the fragments on various gravestones, Trepat found out that it was actually a large, elaborate puzzle which, when put together, produced a spell that helped in the creation of undead minions. "Now that we have the spell, I wonder where the book is.", Trepat said.

"I think...", Niklas started, never to finish the sentence. Suddenly, all their attention was captured as from all graves but one, several bone fragments flew towards the center of the cave, close to them, making them feel as if they were witnesses to an explosion in reverse, in which cause and effect had been replaced with each other.

Within a few seconds, the pile of bones had the form of a giant-sized humanoid with several heads and limbs. Immediately, it lashed out at Niklas, hurting him dearly, and while Trepat shot acid arrows at the undead abberation, the others entered the melee.

Even though they hacked away at it with all their might, it didn't seem bothered by the attacks. Indeed, with every moment that passed, it grew yet another limp that lashed out at the heroes, making it more deadly with every second that passed.

Each time it hit, they felt an immense force behind the bony claws tearing through skin, muscles and sinews. Niklas was tossed back a few yards, leaving behind only Jan and Torn close to the thing, and both were heavily wounded. They kept on coming at the thing from two sides, but with it's several heads it was able to keep them in check even then.

Then the thing found a gap in Jan's armor and rammed it's claws into his flesh. As it pulled out, the blood came shooting out of his shoulder in a burst. Everything turned black for him and he heavily sank down on his knees. Trepat shot even more acid at it as Torn hit it square in the centre and the skeleton fragmented into many small bones again. Finally, it was defeated.

They took care of their wounded, and then they recovered using one of Ben's wands of curing. Then, they set of to a square room with a single spiral staircase that lead up. They climbed the stairs and entered a massive chamber. It's walls were inscribed with infernal letters, and there two alcoves with seven odd looking mirrors in each of them. In an angled niche in the middle of the west wall lay a stone sarcophagus that was adorned with the symbols of Chardun.

At last, they had reached Marilvaz’s final resting place.


----------



## Nightfall

Now the REAL fun begins!


----------



## Lars Frehse

Nightfall, you are right. The next chapter will be about the part to which I had been looking forward to ever since I had read the adventure for the first time. I only hope that the third part of the trilogy will be out soon.

Talix, I hope you will like what comes next!


----------



## Lars Frehse

*The tomb of Marilvaz the sage- part 4 of 4*

No one of them was able to decipher the writing on the wall. However, since it's mere letters were looking wicked, it seemed plausible that it was the language of hell. This was most likely the ritual. Jan looked around, seeing if there was anything with an evil aura, and as he looked at the sarcophagus, his fears were confirmed. Indeed, there was a pulsating aura of darkest evil shining through the massive stone.

He told his friends about it who decided to copy the ritual on the wall and then leave as swiftly as possible. Before that, however, they took a look at the mirrors.

Each of them enabled them to look at one of the other rooms. There were fourteen mirrors and fourteen rooms and corridors, and above and below each mirror a pair of words was inscribed.

"Maybe the words hold a clue to the ritual", Torn said.

Niklas took a look, too:"Or maybe they are the key to a spell if put together."

Trepat shook his head:"I don't think that there would be another puzzle, after there had been one in the graveyard. But these words are complete nonsense." He pointed at the one that stood over the miror that showed the temple in which they had been attacked by the allips. "I mean, what is "Warwoople" supposed to be? An elaborate hoax maybe? Or perhaps...".

Torn interrupted him:"Look at the mirror!".

Trepat turned around and now he saw it too: Through the collums in the hall, he could see the shapes of the allips again. He furrowed his brow:"When did they come back?".

"The moment you said Warwoople", Torn answered.

Now Niklas walked up to the mirror, looked at the word below the mirror and said:" Parkaul.".

Immediately, the allips disappeared. He said Warwoople again and the allips reappeared. Now they took a closer look at the two rooms which they hadn't entered: A greenhouse and a room full of skeletons. They used the words to deactivate the rooms and then they picked up the tomes therein.

Now all that was left for them to do was to copy the writings on the wall word by word, which turned out to be a tedious task, since the writing was completely unknown to every one of them, and they had to copy it letter for letter, doublechecking to make sure that every single stroke or dot was identical to the ones on the wall.

Each of them took a part of the wall to copy and they worked in silence, only speaking to each other when they weren't able to make out a letter properly or when they discovered a mistake in the work of someone else. Still, this was as exhausting as any hard labor they knew- especially since soon their eyes were hurting from the strain and they needed all their concentration to keep the unknown letters from blurring into each other.

Hours passed, as suddenly the silence was disturbed by footsteps and human voices. They turned around, half expecting to see a group of intruders coming up the spiral staircase, as they saw that in fact the voices were coming from the mirror that gave them a view on the entranceway. 

There they say nine humans in leather armor who were accompanied by a mansized writhing mass of darkness. Trepat noticed that the writhing darkness was in fact hundreds of black snakes which were writhing and moving around each other, giving the multitude the superficial look of one solid object.

The strange group entered the tomb without hesitating in the entrance cave, and Ben pointed at their leader:" That one is definetly a druid of Mormo.".

The group reached the first fork in the way, and there the leader split the group: three of his followers would turn left, three right and two would stay with him. Then he said something to the writhing mass of snakes, and that too split in three- one "heap" stayed with the leader and the other two parts went with one of the groups each.

Meanwhile, the friends started to frantically debate a plan regarding what to do In the end they came up with this: Torn and Trepat would wait in the corridor behind the secret door in the  first pit. There, they would shoot their arrows, which Trepat had charged with electricity, at whoever opened it and then run for it. Niklas and Ben stayed back in the room with the magical mirrors, where they would activate all the rooms through which the Mormo worshippers came, while Jan would wait in the gaming room in case they needed immediate help- he was definetly too slow for the hit and run tactics they wanted to apply.

Even though the friends were outnumbered, they had one vital ally, and they would use that one for their greatest advantage- their ally was the tomb of Marilvaz the sage itself.


----------



## Nightfall

Lars, if things stay on course, only four weeks after March 17th. (April 14th) So then you can have fun and enjoy that last bits.


----------



## Nightfall

Let's see how well the Dar al Annot make out folks! I'm betting massacre.


----------



## Talix

Sweeeeeet.    Nothing like using the control center of the bad guy against the other bad guys!  8)

Sounds like a fun place to be!


----------



## Nightfall

This is my favorite part of the adventure.


----------



## Lars Frehse

So it looks like I will be able to conclude this trilogy sooner than I had thought! Alright, guys, of to the truly fun part of the adventure- and I liked the whole adventure, but this was truly something special, I think.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Unwelcome Visitors- part 1*

The intruders walked through the entrance chamber without faltering once. They simply ignored the carvings in the wall- obviously they hadn’t come to the tomb in order to admire the craftmanship.

When they reached the fork the leader paused. He examined the wall for a moment and then gave orders to his followers, who split up into three groups. Two stayed with him and two groups with three Mormo-worshippers each went into the corridors left and right. Then, however, something unexpected happened: The mass of black writhing snakes split in three and where there had been one big mass before, there were now three smaller masses.

By now, Ben and Niklas were alone in the control-room. When he saw that the intruders were looking for traps at the fork, Ben spoke the command word to turn the trap there off. If they would find it now, they would see that it was defunct and probably think that the heroes had disarmed it earlier (as Torn really had). However, if they went into the temple, they would probably not check for traps again once they returned.

When he saw movement in the mirror showing the greenhouse, they changed their position to watch how the worshipers of the serpent queen would handle that. Even though the adventurers had initially avoided that room, they now knew of the insidous trap within: on a desk in the greenhouse, there was a bottle with poison under which there was a piece of paper describing it as an antidote. Once anybody went close to the desk, a force field would seal the room and a gas cloud would fill the room. However, the cloud was harmless: the only poison was in the small bottle.

As two men who were lead by a stern looking tanned and darkhaired woman entered the room, exactly that happened. The room got sealed, gas started to fill the room, and one of the men grabbed for the bottle- only to get his arm grabbed by the woman, who effectively stopped him as he was merely inches from the bottle. Looking around suspiciously, she shortly inhaled and then as she filled her lungs, a grin spread on her face. She pointed at the bottle and said: „_This_ is the poison!“.

Meanwhile, the other group that had been sent out had crossed both pits in the other corridor, and they were now entering the room full of bones. That was the other room the group had only entered once they had used the proper deactivation word. It was a cell-room full of old bones, and a moment after the three titan-worshippers had entered, a horrible entity rose among the bones.

The three intruders and the small pile of snakes found themselves opposed to a tall humanoid skeleton with glowing green eyes and an oversized collarbone from which three long iron chains which ended in manacles. They turned around to leave, but the Shackledeath, as it was called, shot it’s chains at one unlucky man catching him with all four. Now the others turned around and attacked the undead as their companion tried to free himself. However, they saw that their weapons were useless against it- their swords just bounced off without even splintering the bone and so they turned around and ran for it.

Ben and Niklas watched and suddenly the one they had left behind fell to the ground- even though the shackledeath hadn’t touched him once, he was quite clearly dead. After a while, while the monk and the incarnate grimly thought that now they wouldn’t have to fight this one anymore, the shackledeath sank to the ground again, hiding among the other bones in the room as if nothing had happened.

Again they switched their attention and watched through a mirror how the three groups reunited at the fork. By now, the druid and his cronies had found the mechanism for the door and after listening to the reports of his two sub-commanders, the now reunited troop entered the corridor to the temple.

As they entered the temple, the behaviour of the intruders changed remarkably. So far, they had pretty much behaved like disciplined and seasoned soldiers- avoiding any unneccessary risks and going about their business with the impassionate professionality of the experienced veteran. Now, however, seeing the images of the gods, they weren’t able to contain their hate and immediately started defacing the walls and collums, intent on destroying all images of the gods.

When the allips came, they were hit by surprise. The druid ordered his troop to retreat, but it was already to late: half of the intruders stood around numbly, temporarily having lost their minds due to the babbling of the undead. The cultists fought with magic and the snake-construct. To the surprise of it’s invisible watchers, who were still looking through the mirrors, the construct was even able to hurt the intangible ghosts by forming strong arms which were hard as steel. It used two of those „arms“ like spears, thrusting at the alips.

But even with the druid’s magic and the strength of the serpents there were losses. When the allips were defeated, one of the men was completely catatonic. He had been touched a few times by one of the allips, and now he had completely lost his mind, and he had to be taken by the hand in order to leave the temple with his fellow titan-worshippers.

As they returned to the fork, Niklas spoke the command word for the trap in the fork and the first Mormo-ranger was surprised by a spike that shot up and drilled itself into his leg. The druid walked up to the wounded man, and after looking around suspicioulsly, he healed the man.

Now the woman that had lead the troop in the greenhouse spoke to the druid: „Saddayat, I don’t understand that those undead and traps are still here. Are you sure the scum went in here?“

He nodded: „I am sure, Jhevarra. The crows had watched them ever since those _Kharkets_ had left Vesh. They went in here this time yesterday, and either they are dead or still alive somewhere in here. I think that they had simply not entered neither the temple nor any of the other rooms. This means they must have found a way we haven’t. Let’s search the corridors“.

That’s what they did and after finding the elemental cavern and fleeing it after the first elementals appeared, they finally found the secret door in the first pit. Jhevarra and another ranger went down into the narrow pit, and after looking for traps, they opened the door. 

Little did they know at that moment that in the corridor right behind the door, Trepat was kneeling in front of Torn and both had a bow ready . The sorceror had enchanted their arrows with the shocking missile spell in preparation, turning their arrows into deadly electrically charged missiles.


----------



## Nightfall

Coolness Lars!  I can't wait to see how you do it all. (Course it would be nice if I HAD Serpent Citadel to critique you...but that's something for another time.) Alright party time!


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## Lars Frehse

Oh, and here is a little background information I think I hadn't given before. When I had finished the introduction and first chapter of my storyhour, I was thinking of a name.
At that time, for some strange reason, I was listening to the song "Jeanny" by Falco, since it came up in rotation in my winamp program.(An Austrian pop-musician who had died a couple of years ago. He had some international hits, like "Rock me Amadeus"). Anyway, in this song, there is a line in which he sings "struggle and strife". I liked it, and the name stuck.

I had completely forgotten about this, but now, while writing my newest update, this song came up again, and I remembered. And, since I think it is a funny little story, I thought I would share.


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## Nightfall

Cool! Like such stories. (I just choose mine at random mostly.)


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## Talix

Fun usage of the traps!  

Are the bad guys' actions and/or battles scripted in the module?  Or did you have to roll out the encounters between them and the traps?


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## Nightfall

*has the module.* They are unscripted in the module so I imagine Lars rolled for it for real. 

I also have to agree, the traps in the tomb are some of the most deviously devised ones I've seen in some time. (Course they don't hold a candle to some Necromancer traps but hey few can.  )


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## Lars Frehse

Talix, it is suggested in the module to let the players roll for the monsters if they use the dungeon to their advantage. So, they did that- one player read the description in the Monster Manual aloud, and then they decided together what the monsters should do. The players were fair enough not to give the monsters any unduly advantage, trying to play them in a way that they thought realistic.
And Nightfall, I agree. There are really some devious traps in there. Fortunately, they are not supposed to be utterly lethal- I hate traps that basically mean that if you fail one reflex roll you die. It is just not fair to have the life of a character depend on one single die roll...


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## Lars Frehse

*Unwelcome visitors- part 2*

The moment the door was fully opened, Trepat and Torn let their arrows fly and Jhevarra was hit in the chest by both arrows. There was a short flash of light, as the electricity discharged, and she crashed forward, dead. Trepat turned around to the spiral staircase and Torn shot one more arrow, killing the other ranger in the pit before he even knew what was happening around him.

As they reached the mirror room, they slammed the door shut behind them and then right through to the next room.There they closed the door again and swiftly crossed the room with the erotic murals in order to position themselves next to the fountain in the hall beyond it. There, next to the trapdoor they readied their bows again- whoever would open that door would get hit again.

Niklas and Ben watched as the now reassembled serpent construct glided into the pit, oblivious of the two corpses in there, and it moved into the corridor in which Torn and Trepat had laid there ambush. However, after moving in, it stopped. The druid and the remaining troopers climbed down ropes into the pits and after checking that their companions were beyond help they caught up with the dark golem.

Carefully, they climbed the stairs and went into the mirror-room. There, the same thing happened to one of the rangers that had happened to Niklas- he got sucked into the magical mirror which had magically rebuilt itself when Ben had spoken the command word after Trepat and Torn had passed through. For a short while, the Mormo worshippers were confused, but then the druid smashed the mirror, freeing the ranger again.

By now, some of the rangers had found tracks leading to the southern door. They entered the next room, and at the sight of members of the divine races embraced in passion, the druid had to remind them that they could destroy those images later. Saddayat ordered them to go to the next door and a ranger opened it- only to get shot by Trepat and Torn. He fell backwards, dead before he hit the ground- two arrows stuck in his chest and the tip of Torn’s arrow had even smashed through the lung and was sticking out of his back.

Immediately, as the remaining rangers, the serpent golem and the druid charged after their dead companion, both Trepat and Torn jumped into the trapdoor. Just as Torn’s head had disappeared, Ben and Niklas, who were watching reactivated the room, and the surprised titan-worshippers found themselves in a room with the trapdoor gone and a wraith going from one illusionary pile of coins to the next.

Saddayat was determined to follow those who had killed his henchmen, and so he ordered his remaining followers to step back. Then he summoned a flameblade, and simultanously with the serpent golem, he attacked the wraith. The ghost struck back once, but the druid dogded the blow, and then they had defeated it.

Not wasting any words, Saddayat commanded two of his followers, who had pickaxes strapped to their back to force the trapdoor in front of the door open. As Trepat and Torn heard the noise of the stone being smashed, Niklas came running to them:“ I think we should prepare our final ambush behind the field of darkness. I have just heard the druid say that he will send in the golem first this time.“

„Alright“, Torn said and turned around.

Niklas nodded: „Good then. I will go tell Jan and then send down Ben. I will come last- after all, I am the fastest“. And with that he ran down the corridor, his already extraordinary speed made superhuman by his boots of striding and springing.

They positioned themselves in the fork behind the field of darkness. Ben had turned into his spiderform again, and everybody else was ready and spells had been cast in preparation. After a while, the sound of steel hacking at stone were substituted by the sound of the trapdoor.

Then, there was nothing. Only the black, impenetrable darkness in front of them. Nothing could be heard, until, suddenly, they heard a human voice shouting: „I order you to wait!“. And then, out of the darkness, a more material darkness emerged: it was the serpent golem rushing towards them, as if it hadn’t been fooled by the magical darkness.

Torn, who had positioned himself in the middle in order to fully use the advantage the length of his spiked chain offered him. This, however, turned him into the target of the golem as well, and it shot two armlike spears at him, wounding him deeply. 

Ben stayed behind Torn and healed him, as the massive half-orc lashed back. Then, drawn by the sound of combat, the rest of the intruders emerged from the darkness, their looks turned into that of hideous monsters by the magic of the dark room. 

While the golem kept on fighting Torn, who only kept on standing because Ben healed his wounds over and over again, the intruders tried to surround Jan as good as they could. Obviously his obvious allegiance to Corean focused their hatred on him. Niklas tried to help his brother, but they just defended against the monk, trying to bring down the heavily armored Paladin first.

Trepat supported from behind, but he had already used a lot of his magical powers of that day against the bonelord in the graveyard, and so he soon had to switch to his old, battle-proven bow, shooting whenever he found an opening.

Even though there were only four of the nine humans left, the battle was deadly. The Serpent Golem turned out to be a vicious opponent- not only did it attack with the strength of two men, tearing deep wounds, but with each attack, it shot poison into Torn. Jan and Niklas were superior to the three ranger they were fighting, but as the druid cast a flamestrike at the already injured Paladin, he felt that he was at the end of his strength- the tables seemed to turn.

Then, Trepat hit one of the rangers in the neck, defeating him and Niklas whirled around in a circle kick, hitting the head of another one and breaking his neck. Now, as Jan was free to battle the last ranger, Niklas tumbled past them and stood in front of the druid who pulled out his scimitar. Still, he was no opponent for the battle-hardened monk, who dodged every time he slashed at him and then punched and kicked the druid with deadly precision.

Meanwhile, Jan had defeated the last ranger and together with Torn, they defeated the Serpent golem, which fell apart into nothing but a pile of dead snakes. And as they turned around they saw that Niklas needed no help anymore. Saddayat stood with the back to the wall, and as he wanted to cast one last spell, the monk used his fist to crush his chest.

The friends stood panting heavily over their defeated foes. Except for Trepat, all of them were wounded, and Ben took care of those who had been hit by the golem or the poisoned blades of the Mormo-rangers. They were covered with blood- both their own and that of their enemies and their weapons, and in Niklas’s case hist fists, were crimson with the blood of their enemies as well.

Nobody said a word for a long while, as each of them just rejoiced of being alive, even though they were hurting. Ben was the first to speak: „Let’s get back to the last room. Trepat and I can continue to copy the ritual while you guys get some rest“.


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## Red Baron

Keeping on with the great job, here, Lars!

I see you upped Saddayat's level, eh? (_Flamestrike_, indeed! 

Shame you didn't go with the crow-form escape tactic -- that was a personal favorite device of mine...

Cheers and Good Gaming,
Scott Holden-Jones


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## Nightfall

Yeah flamestriking from the druid OUCH! Glad the boys survived that one.


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## Talix

Sounds like it was an exciting fight!


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## Lars Frehse

Scott, I am glad and flattered to hear you like it!  I had to up Saddayat's level. At the time of the encounter, some of the player character had reached sixth level. Since I think that major villains should be at least a little bit more powerful than the players, I raised Saddayat's level to 7. Unfortunately, when the time had come for him to fly away, he would have had to fly over the heads of all melee-combatants, in that case Niklas, Ben and Torn. The ceiling was merely 8 feet high, so he would have gotten attacks of opportunities from all of them. So, there was no real chance of escape for him anymore.

Nightfall and Talix, the fight was really pretty exciting. Ben's player had been cursing that he had no chance to go toe to toe himself, since he had to heal Torn and Jan every round. Without that, both would have been defeated for sure.

Thanks for your comments, all. I will post another update tonight.


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## Nightfall

Yeah it sounded like it Lars. Just remember three more weeks until Serpent Citadel!


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## Lars Frehse

*Unwelcome visitors- part 3*

Throughout the night, they took turns copying the ritual from the walls of the tomb. While some of them laborously copied sign by infernal signs, the others slept, and except for Niklas, they took turns. 

The monk had by now mastered a technique he had learned from a tome that he had bought from Azaton in Mithril. The technique had been developed by the exemplars of Hedrad and it enabled him to go without sleeping for an unlimited time, as long as he meditated for a short while in the morning.

Outside again, morning had already broken. They were greeted by Swift Jane and Jan's horse, who had hidden from the Mormo-worshippers until just now. From the looks of the blue sky it promised to become a beautiful summer day, and the green treetops below them in the valley gave the land a peaceful and healthy look.

Trepat was the first to look on the ground of the plateau on which they were standing. Several stones and rocks had been piled on top of each other, and there was a dried leaf looking out from under the top stone. Curious, he picked up the stone and picked up the leaf, seeing that to his surprise, there had been something written on it in a lofty and functional way.

_Troops sent by the church of Chardun wait for you in Vauldell.
A friend_

Trepat showed it to his friends and Jan turned to his horse, asking it whether it had seen anyone placing this note. Through the mystical connection of Paladin and his mount, the horse told him that there had indeed been a woman clad in worn leatherarmor with a single long black braid, who had put the leaf there under the stone a few hours ago. Ben, already expecting sandlewood, put on his wolfskull and indeed he smelled that particular smell again. It looked like the mysterious woman had helped them for the third time ever since they had entered Lageni.

"But why?", Niklas asked. "After all, going in there and gaining the knowledge stored within seems to be the very point of the tomb!"

Trepat shrugged:"Sure. However we are still nonbelievers. From their point of view, we may very well have defiled the resting place of a devout follower of their god. I can even understand them- after all, you wouldn't want followers of Chardun, Belsameth and Vangal looting a temple of Corean, either...".

Jan still didn't seem content. There were too many mysteries: "But how did they find out we went here in the first place?"

Torn, who had just dropped his backpack, straightened again: "They could have found out in Vauldell- after all, it looks like we had been the first well armed and armored people there in quite a while. And since there is nothing else here, it doesn't exactly need a genius to figure out we came for the tomb- even if the Hedrada priest stayed quiet.

"And then the archfiend himself may have figured out his mistake in the end. Or he did only tell us about it in the first place, so that we would either get killed by the tomb or that he would have a legal reason to have us executed afterwards"

He shrugged:" Actually, though, I don't really care about the whys of all this. I am more concerned about getting out of here again alive.".

Torn pulled out his map and they all huddled around it. Torn pointed at it with one big index-finger:" We are here. I don't think we will make it back to our boat but if we head northwest, keeping the Kelders to our right, we should reach the Eni river after a few days. From there, all we have to do is walk north along the banks of the river."

They all agreed on this and soon afterwards they were heading out northwest through the foothills of the kelders. For the next days, they avoided all signs of civilization, circling around villages and hamlets, since they wanted to leave no trail behind that could be picked up by the soldiers in their back.

Eventuallly, they reached the Eni, and soon enough, they were happy that they were on the eastern bank of the river, since the river protected them from the dangers of the blood steppes to their west. Their biggest problem was that often, there was hardly much land to walk on, since the river was flowing right next to the steep granite mountains at times. Then, they had to wade through the sluggish river.

At least they often found caves to spend the nights in, and if there were no caves, there were at least crevices that offered protection from the elements at night. It was in such a huge crevice where they set up camp on the third night of their journey along the Eni when Niklas was watching over his friends, next to a small campfire.

He was looking out over the Eni, watching the strange shadows in the Blood Steppes, or at least what the star light and the thin scythelike blade of Belsameth's moon allowed him to see. Suddenly, at the edge of his vision, he saw a humanoid shadow pressed against the rock at the left entrance to the crevice. Trying not to alert the watcher, he yawned, and then slowly got up. Hoping to look as unalarmed as possible, he slowly walked the few steps to Torn's sleeping back.

He bend down and shook the sleeping half-orc, saying quietly, but loud enough for their watcher to pick it up: "Hey, it's your turn now". Sleepy eyed, Torn got up, and then Niklas said:"Before I go to sleep, I wanted to talk about tomorrow's route first.".

Torn was surprised without showing it. After all, there weren't any options regarding their route but following the river, and Niklas hadn't slept for weeks now, anyway! Still, trusting his friend, he went to the campfire with him, and they sat down at the map.

Niklas pulled out a feather and ink, and while he was talking about possible ways, he painted an arrow on the map, which pointed to the figure he had seen, he wrote:"_Keep talking. One person watching._". Torn understood, and after nodding to his friend, he said:"Alright then. Let's do it this way. You can go sleep now"

He got up, stretching himself, and then he slowly walked to the bank, keeping himself from looking at the point at which Niklas' arrow had pointed. He opened his pants and stood broad-legged in the universal known posture of a man who is about to pass water. When he was done, he suddenly whirled around and sprinted a few steps to where the arrow had pointed, and indeed, Niklas hadn't been wrong- there was a halfling woman dressed in studded leather looking at him with surprise.

He tried to grab her, but he held on merely for a few seconds, since she turned out to be as flexible as a cat and as slippery as an eel. As Niklas shouted: "wake up!" and came running, she ducked away from Torn, swallowed a potion and disappeared.


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## Corwyn

Verry nice story Lars.

I discoverd it three day's ago and just finished reading it all.

Exelent and gripping narration.

Looking forward to more!!


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## Lars Frehse

Thanks a lot, Corwyn! I am flattered and happy to hear that you are enjoying yourself!


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## Lars Frehse

*Unwelcome visitors- part 4 of 4*

Torn and Niklas stood still, trying to find tracks in the sand of the bank. Then, Torn saw a new footprint appearing out of nowwhere, started running and pointed in the direction. Niklas picked it up, ran and slammed into something small and invisible, and Torn saw where she hit the ground, since sand sprayed up where she fell.

He jumped forward, like a cat pouncing on a mouse, but when he landed, there was nothing under him but sand. Meanwhile Trepat, who had drawn the right conclusions, cast a spell from one of his scrolls that allowed him to see invisible creatures, and now he saw the halfling woman getting back on her feet and running along the banks. He cast a melf's acid arrow and hit the woman, and then as he ran up, he gave directions to Torn and Niklas who were moving through the darkness trying to corner the invisible woman according to the elf's orders.

Just as it looked that the they had her, Trepat saw how she swallowed another potion. Now, she went to the rock wall and crawled it up as easily as if it were a ladder. He shouted:"Niklas, she's going up the wall!" and the monk reacted immediately. With lightning speed, he turned to his right, and grasped into nothing, and now he felt her, squirming in his arms. Torn pulled out a dagger and held it close where he expected the halfling's head to be and said:" I think it is time to give up".

Indeed, the squirming stopped, and after carrying her back to the camp and tieing her up, she became visible again as well. Now, for the first time they got a good look at her. She was a brown haired halfling woman with short brown hair and a long scar under her right amber eye, and she was equipped with a masterwork chainshirt and a shortsword and an armbrust of comparable quality.

"What's your name", Ben asked.

Her eyes were moving around, examining her surroundings, giving her the look of a cornered cat that wanted to break out:" My name is Lily.".

"Alright then, Lily", he continued:"what are you doing here?".

Her experssion changed into one of curiosity:" You sound as if you come from the heteromony of Virduk as well!".

"Yes, that's right. I had to leave it though.".

"Ah, what a shame.".

Jan interrupted them:" That is not important now. Why have you been watching us?".

She turned her head away from Ben and looked at the Paladin now:" I am a scout of the Calastian army.".

"How far away are the ones you scout for and how many are there?", Torn asked.

She smiled:" I will tell you that. If you swear in the names of your gods to let me go unharmed with my equipment, that is.".

"Why should we trust you? Even if you tell us the truth the troop could be too strong for us anyhow.", Niklas wanted to know.

In spite of her situation, she retained an air of confidence:" Well, I can assure you for once that if you attack them, you do stand a chance. And there isn't much you can lose, anyway. And you can rest assured that I wouldn't return and warn them either- after all, that I got captured means that I failed, and the Calastian army does not look kindly on failures...".

The friends turned away from Lily and huddled together. After some frantic whispering for a few minutes, Trepat turned back to Lily:" Alright. But you have to tell us all the details you know abou the members of that troop."

An hour later they reached the dome-like cave that Lily had told them about. The wily scout was already far in the mountains somewhere, heading to a new future far away from Calastia, and it looked like she had told them the truth. Torn had scouted ahead and saw the priest of Chardun he knew about from Lily's information sitting next to a campfire with two regular soldiers. In the back of the cave, there were several filled sleeping bags from which Torn could hear a faint snoring sound- those were the other soldiers, the mage and Colonel Gihjan.

He still wondered why the dragoon was among their pursuers. Maybe Fiarun had heard about the encounter of the dragoon and the adventurers, and sent him along because he knew what they looked like, at least... Or maybe Enkili was playing tricks on them, bringing their paths together for the third time for reasons that only the god knew.

Knowing that his friends were behind him at the bank of the river, he watched as Ben, now in his spiderform, crawled up the ceiling of the cave, trying to get over their enemies. Then, however a small rock fell down and one of the soldiers looked up. He didn't seem to see the giant spider, but he told the priest and his fellow soldier none the less. Then he went to the back of the cave- apparently he wanted to wake his companions, and Torn decided to wait no longer.

He charged forward, surprising the priest and swinging his spiked chain, he hit him in the chest, right where it hurt. Reacting to his friend, Ben dropped from the ceiling and faced the soldier who had walked back and who's wake up call had now, that the sounds of battle echoed through the cave, become pointless.

As the soldiers who had been asleep got up, grabbing their shields and swords, Trepat, Jan and Niklas ran up to the cave, attracted by the combat noise. The camplight threw their shadows to the walls, and to an observer on the other side of the Eni, who only saw those shadows, it must have looked as if flickering giants were battling each other.

Among the six humans who were only getting up now, they saw Colonel Gihjan and one who didn't go for a weapon. Recognizing him as the wizard Lily had told them about, Torn stepped back from the cleric who was now being attacked by Jan and used the ring of spell storing they had taken from Tears of her Enemies to vanish for a short while. Invisible he approached the mage who was about to cast a spell and then he appeared seemingly out of nowwhere and killed him with one single strike.

Fortunately for them, only the cleric and the two soldiers who had been on guard were wearing any armor. Torn, who was a bit ahead of the main battle kept the soldiers around him at bay with the superior range of his spiked chain until suddenly he stood face to face with Colonel Gihjan. The Black Dragoon was still wearing his woolen shirt and long underpants but he wore his steel shield with the symbold of the dragoon and his sword, and his face was frozen into a mask of hatred.

Ever since Torn had been a child, he had been able to rely on his brute strength that had never failed to give him an advantage when he grew up in the backstreets of Durrover-city. But this time, he had found his equal. As they fought, Torn forgot the world around him, needing every bit of his concentration just to ward of the Dragoon.

Locked in a struggle of life and death they fought until Torn, who was bleeding from several small cuts and bruises, found a vital opening and rammed the end of his spiked chain into Gihjan's gut. For a second, their eyes locked and Torn saw the mask of hatred smoothing and changing into the look of puzzlement as his miserable and hatefilled existence finally had found an end.

By now, his friends had defeated the priest as well, and after a short while, when only two soldiers were left, those two threw away there weapons and surrendered, not wanting to sacrifice themselves now that the battle was lost anyway.

For now, the friends had escaped the wrath of the archfiend Fiarun.


----------



## Nightfall

Nice stuff! I was wondering if you'd use the Archfiend or not.


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## Lars Frehse

*A short respite- part 1*

The friends took the horses of their enemies and the full plate armors from the priest and Colonel Gihjan and put them into their bag of holding. This, however, forced them to spill out a small mount of copperpieces which they had looted from Marilvaz's tomb. As he saw the heap, Torn had an idea.

He turned to the two remaining soldiers who they intended to send home to Lageni on foot:"Do you want those coins?"

One of them answered:" Well, sure, sir!".

"Good then. You can fill up your saddlebags and carry as many coins home as you can.", he told them.

The soldiers were stunned with surprise. On one evening they had been ambushed and faced certain death, and no the same ones who had almost ended their lives were heaping coins on them. However, none of the two wanted to waste too much time questioning the motives of their benefactors and each of them filled up a pair of saddlebags each, which they carried heavily on their shoulder as they slowly walked back along the banks until they turned around a bend and were gone.

"This should slow them down", Torn explained to his puzzled friends "with that kind of weight, we should be already close to the Veshian border by the time they reach the next Lagenian fortress to report what had happened.".

Torn was right. For whatever reason, they didn't encounter any further opposition on their way north and wouldn't it have been for the depressing sight of the Blood Steppes beyond the river, it could have even been called pleasant. At last they had left Lageni behind, none of them too keen on returning there anytime soon, and the weather gently switched to that of a pleasant indian summer.

Eventually, they reached Trela. The river looked as peaceful as ever, and they were greeted warmly by the farmers. They were told that unlike the bad weather they had experienced in Lageni, it had been unusually dry here, and that at times the farmers had trouble to bring their crops through the drought. Hearing that, Ben cursed heartily that they had to spend the best part of the summer in the rain, and then they had to deal with another problem: and that was which route they would take to come back to Vesh.

Lacking boats big enough to carry all their horses, they had the alternatives of either circling around Denev's aquifier on it's eastern bank and then going through the blood marshes or taking the western routes and entering Vesh via Ontenazu. The mountains of the western route were notorious for it's deadly winds, which were strong enough to smash unwary travellers to death against the rock walls. But there were scouts who knew the winds and who would guide them.

Still, they decided to take the eastern route. Especially Ben wasn't ready to lay his life in the hands of strangers, and he rather wanted to brave the swamps, where at least he would have his fate in his own hands. In this, Trepat and Torn, who were both rather relying on themselves then on anyone else, supported him, and even though Jan and Niklas would have liked to get to know the mysterious lands of Ontenazu, they accepted the decision of their friends.

After resting and relaxing for the day, and hearing that some months ago, a priest of Belsameth had inquired about the death of his fellow priest at the hands of the group, they continued their journey in the early next morning. The whole time they kept the Kelders to their right, and for the first three days, in which they had covered about half the way, the sun kept shining. Then, on the third night, the weather changed. It got colder, the wind picked up, blowing down from the mountain, and during the midnight watch, it started raining as well. First, single fat drops fell down only to soon turn into an outright downpour.

It looked as if the sky had held back it's waters only to pour them down on the friends again, and Ben reacted accordingly in the morning. For the whole day, he kept on cursing the heavens and their bad luck that seemingly lead them to travel from one patch of bad weather to the next.

At nights, they were still damp, and their animals and themselves never got really dry, since the rain kept on, and in their tents at night, their wet, damp smell was almost unbearable. On the third day of the constant rain, there was hardly any dry land left, and they had to lead their horses over the rock of the foot of a giant mountain when they saw before them the wet marshlands of the swamps. Most of the lands were at least covered with puddles of water, and the hills that raised above the wet plains looked like islands in a lake.

Then, suddenly their steeds became nervous, and Trepat heard a distant rumble coming from behind. Immediately he knew what was causing this, and he shouted:" Avalanche! Quick! To the nearest hill!". And really, now that he had shouted it, they heard the distant rumbling too, slowly growing in volume until it drowned out all other noises, like those of the rain drumming down and their feet and hooves running through the mud.

They all headed for the nearest hill and they were whipped by the wind and the rain as they now felt the very earth tremble under them as well. Then, as they struggled up the side of the hill, running and grabbing for sticks and stone, hopefully elevating them above the flood of mud and, they saw it in the faint light of the darkened day: Behind them, as high as one of the higher houses of Mithril, the elements were rushing towards them. A brown muddy whirling mass of water full of rocks and all kind of vegetation from brushes to full trees came whirling, seemingly growing as it came closer and closer.

Niklas, who had helped the animals and his lagging friends was last, and in the last second he jumped up to get on the safe harbor of the top of the hill- but he was too late. Suddenly he felt how his legs were torn away under him and in an instant, he was taken away. All around him, there was the chaotic, thundering flood and he had completely lost all orientation, not even able anymore to tell up from down.

Then, he was knocked against something hard, and instinctively, he grabbed for it. Clinging tight, as the mud and the water streamed around him, he slowly regained his orientation, and then, gratefully he had succeeded in raising his head over the water. He saw that he was clinging to a ragged old tree, and as he pulled himself into the crown, which raised over the rushing masses under him, he shouted for health.

Trepat was the first to saw him some fifty yards away from the hill. Like his friends, he had been saved from the flood by his raised position. Oblivious to the rain, he whipped out his scroll of fly, and cast the spell on it. Now, that he was able to fly, he raised above the flood and moved over to where Niklas was clinging on to the tree for his very life.

He reached the monk and grabbed for him, but he wasn't strong enough to lift the burly human. "Hold on a little longer!", he shouted over the deafening roar of the raging elements. He flew up a few yards, and as Niklas felt the tremor of something huge and heavy hitting the tree somewhere under the muddy surface, Trepat used his wand of bullstrength on himself. Now he sank down again, and as the tree was slowly bending over, finally giving in to the stream of mud around it, Trepat had him. Somewhere, on the hill, Jan was praying to Corean for the rescue of his brother and now the elf suceeded in lifting Niklas over the water.

Sluggishly, they moved over the water, and the strain of Niklas' weight strained Trepat's arm, and he felt a burning pain in his shoulderjoint, as if his arm was about to be torn out of it's socket, but then they were over the comparatively dry land of their island, and they both dropped to the muddy ground. They were wet, dirty and exhausted, but at least they were alive.


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## Lars Frehse

*A short respite- part 2*

They set up camp as they waited for the skies to clear up and the water to drain into the lake and the swamps. They lacked dry woods and other commodities to get a good fire going, and so they spend the first day cold, wet and miserable. However, in the evening the constant drumming of the rain on the canvas of the tents lost it’s raging violence and in around midnight the rain had finally stopped.

Around them, the land had disappeared. All they could see where other islands in the distance and occasionaly treetops were peaking out of the brown and muddy water as well. But that was already all that hinted at solid land having been there just this morning. Gazing over the depressing sight, they realized that they would probably have to wait days until they would be able to continue their journey.

After three such days of mindnumbing waiting on confined space, that time had finally come. The ground was still covered with water, and they had to be careful to avoid holes and other obstacles as they waded ahead, but at least the waterlevel didn’t go over their steeds knees.

By the time they reached the little village at the north of Denev’s aquifer, most of the water had gone. The villagers, who still remembered their liberation from Radraan, the priest of Belsameth, greeted them enthusiasically and after the friends had explained that they were heading back to Vesh, the villagers offered them to aid them with constructing another raft, like they had done over a year ago.

It soon became clear, however, that they weren’t able to construct a raft that was big enough for all them and all their steeds. The friends knew that the villagers didn’t have the money to buy the horses they had gotten from the calastian soldiers from them, and so they handed them over to the peasants and fishers as a gift, keeping only Swift Jane and the coreanic steed.

If it was at all possible, the lavish gift made the villagers even friendlier, and they did everything to make the days the adventurers spent there as pleasing and comfortable as possible. When the raft was finally done, the villagers told the group that they would always be welcome in their humble village, and they waved to them goodbye until the friends had pushed the raft out of sight.

The journey through the swamp was pleasantly uneventful- the lands here were still flooded and the hostile creatures that made it their home had to deal with the effect of the flood themselves. Without their knowledge, the flood was actually a blessing in disguise for the heroes.

When they reached the southern border of Vesh, they were greeted by the same Vigilantes who had given them the boat for their journey south, and they escorted them on their journey through Vesh, until one afternoon they reached Lave. There, homecommander Kelemis Durn welcomed them in the hall of command, and after listening to their report and taking the transcript of the ritual, he congratulated and thanked each of them.

He had changed for the better. Even though there were still subtle signs that he would never forget the tragic events of his murder at the hand of his own second-in-command, he at least seemed to have found a way to deal with it. Again, he was the powerful, cheerful and optimistic man they had met when they had brought the serpent amphora over a year ago.

„I will give this transcript to our scholars. It looks like at last we will be able to get rid of the damned thing! And I don’t think I have to tell you just how much I am looking forward to having this lodestone of my mind.

„Of course I will keep you informed regarding what we will find out. Now, however, I have a much more pleasant task to do. You know, usually it would be customary for me to give land or title to deserving men like you. At least a public ceremony would be in order, considering what you have already done for Vesh. However, since I think I will still have to rely on you in the matter of the amphora in the future, I would like you to remain as unknown as possible.“

He paused for a moment, the cheer gone for now: „After all, I am worried how the servants of the Serpent Queen could have tracked you so easily. And the black haired woman you told me about worries me as well. Even though she was benign, she seemed to know what you were after... Else she wouldn’t have been able to help you at Marilvaz’ tomb. All that is disturbing, and I would like to prevent any further factions finding out about your importance, skill and tasks.“

Kelemis Durm took a drink and then he continued with a big smile: „So, I had wondered how I could possibly reward you. This time, I had been certain that you would return succesfully, and so I had some things prepared.“

He got up, rang a bell and after a servant brought in a large wooden chest and he had dismissed the servant, the homecommander opened the chest and pulled out a small, black crossbow, which he handed over to Torn: „This is for you, Torn. It is called a crossbow of the Assassin, and it is enchanted in a way to enable you to use your skill of hitting vital spots even more effectively and at longer range.“.

Torn took the crossbow and thanked the commander who then pulled out a pair of leather boots: “Trepat, those are for you. They are called „boots of the huntress“ and they were enchanted by a priest of Tanil to strengthen two of your abilities. Not only will it be harder to track you and the people you are travelling with as long as you are wearing them, but it will also make you better at tracking your enemies as well!“

„For you, Ben“, he continued after he had handed the boots to the grateful elf: „I have this periapt. As long as you are wearing it, your wisdom will be even greater than usually. This way, you will be an even more effective servant of the earth mother“.

Ben took the periapt of wisdom, grinning broadly and Kelemis Durm had already turned over to Jan: „For you I have a gift crafted by the servants of Madriel. It is called the „ring of Madriel’s blessing“ and with it, your abilities against undead will be strengthened- it will be easier to turn or smite them, since you will be infused with the force of life granted by Madriel the healer.

“For you, Niklas I have nothing in my chest. However, the same priests who had crafted this ring had learned from our elven friends in the Ganjus how to create magical tatoos. If you want, they will inscribe a tatoo that will give you Madriel’s blessing- and it can’t be taken from you“.

Niklas accepted and after Kelemis told them to stay in the finest inn at his cost until he could tell them what the scholars had found out about the, he wished them a pleasant stay in the city. Once outside, they had time to look around- the people of Lave had used the time to rebuild the damages of the titanspawn attack and it looked that like their homecommander, the people had overcome the shock and were now going on about their daily business like they had done before.


----------



## Nightfall

Good stuff! Finally the guys get some rewards for their good deeds!


----------



## Lars Frehse

*A short respite- part 3*

Eventually, Kelemis told them that there were complications regarding interpreting the ritual. According to the scholars, it would most likely take all autumm and spring at the very least. „If you want to return to Mithril and the Gravelfist tribe that would be no problem. I will send messengers as soon as we have found out more. I am sure you are as curious about it as I am, so I will of course keep you informed. Furthermore, as I had told you before, in case new complications arise, I would love to come back to you.“.

It took them merely a day to prepare for travelling on. For many of them, their newfound home was in the north, and so they were eager to journey there. During their trip, they saw farmers bringing in the harvest of the year and they turned into inns at night, enjoying the luxury of a soft bed after their rough trip to Lageni.

Mullis Town was as busy as ever, and the friends took the same inn they had stayed at the times they had been there before, feeling comfortably familiar with that place. On the next morning, they went to the market, buying provisions and replacing gear that had been broken.

When they were almost done, Ben went to a stand that sold medicinal herbs, and his friends stood close by, taking in the many colors and smells of the market. There had been a short rain at night and now the sun was reflected in small puddles of water which rippled every time a boot or the hoof of a beast of burden stepped into them.

As Ben talked idly with the shopkeeper, a fat, bald and cheerful human, he was suddenly pushed to the side by a grotesquely clad man with greasy black hair. He was dressed in what seemed to be a tight fitting suit of armor made of rotting flesh and bones- and parts of human flesh on top of that.

„Alright now“, he told the shopowner: „I got a list of things I want and I want them quickly. I don’t want to waste my precious time with the likes of you, and I am sure you don’t want to upset me, either.“

The fat man was indignant:“ I am sorry, sir, but I am dealing with this gentleman here right now. He was here first.“.

„I don’t care“, came the retort: „I am an impatient man and I demand service now!“.

Now Torn stepped ahead, bringing Trepat, Niklas and Jan with him to back up Ben: „We are quite sure that our friend has come here first, and that you’ll have to wait.“

The grotesque man wanted to answer but then paused. Apparently, he realized that these were no commoners he could easily push around, so he swallowed what he intended to say and simply hissed: „Allright then, I’ll wait.“.

Now Ben and the shopkeeper continued their haggling and chatting about herbs while the others kept a watchful eye at the obnoxious man. He was barely able to contain the rage he seemed to be feeling and he stared at them evilly.

Then, a little girl of five years, at the hand of her mother came along, and as she saw and smelled the man, she cried out:“ Mama! This man is ickie!“.

Immediately, the man turned around and kicked her like a ball. The girl cried out and was torn from the hand of her mother to fly for several yards where she hit the cobbled, wet ground of the market square. People shouted out in idignation, but no one dared coming close to the cruel looking stranger.

The only ones who came to action were the adventurers themselves. Trepat readied his bow and then he saw how the man cast a spell and was flying upwards. Now, that they saw that the man wasn’t able to stick to his responsibility to the little girl, Torn whipped out his crossbow and shot a bolt, which dug itself into the flesharmor of the mage.

As his friends opened fire on the mage, Ben ran over to the little girl. Her mother was cradling the girl’s head in her lap as she cried for help. Ben checked and saw that the girl was unconcious and had a concussion but at least she wasn’t mortally wounded.

The wizard, who was still raising and flying southeastwards at the same time cast another spell while Trepat and Torn kep firing and Niklas was running under the man, trying to find out where he was heading. Meanwhile Ben healed the girl who came back to conciousness, only to experience all hell breaking lose around her in the final seconds of her young life.

The market was already emptying as people ran away in the general panic created by the actions of the wizard and the friends’ use of their weapons. Carts were being tipped over and marchendise spilled over the cobblestones and into the puddles and then the wizard cast another spell and a fireball exploded right in the centre where Trepat and Torn were shooting at their enemy.

The commoners who were still around, including the little girl and her mother, who’s names Ben would never learn now, were all killed instantly. Ben, Trepat and Torn, who were all in the blast radius were burnt as well, but being used to attacks like that, they rolled and turned so that they could survive the fireball.

Now all five of them picked up the chase. Jan’s horse came running, having sensed the trouble it’s master was in, and the paladin grabbed Ben as he swung himself onto the back of his mount. Niklas, Ben and Torn followed on foot, shooting a few more times at the wizard until he had gotten out of range.

Once out of the city, they saw that the wizard was heading to the towerlike ruin that was called „The Ruined Pillar“. The weathered structure was one of the remnants of the mysterious civilization called „the ancients“ and the friends saw that their enemy landing in it’s shadow.

Together, they followed him, and when they finally reached the pillar, Trepat and Ben cast some preparatory spells. The pillar was basically a ruined tower. At one point, the wall had completely crumbled, creating a fifteen foot wide gap, but apart from that, the remaining walls were at least twenty feet tall.

They crouched against the outside of the wall close to the gap, and then, at a prepared sign, they all charged in, Torn taking the lead. To their surprise, the evil wizard wasn’t alone- there were four heavily armored humanoids. The only thing that could be seen in the darkness under their helmets were pairs of eyes which were glowing crimson red.

Worst of all, though, was that the evil wizard seemed to have been expecting them. He stood in the back of the ruin and as Torn jumped in through the gap, he cast a spell at the halforc.


----------



## Talix

D'oh!  Attacking prepared wizards is never the brightest of ideas...  

Lots of fun updates since I last read, yes I'm still here!


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## Lars Frehse

Glad to see you are still around, Talix! 

Anyway, I would like to mention that I have modelled the beginning and other elements of the current adventure after the story idea "Last Hold of the Fallen" in the Mithril Sourcebook. However, as you will see, I have changed around a lot of things, turning it into something different alltogether.

Still, since the inspiration is there and some parts (especially the beginning) are very close to the original adventure-idea, I thought I would give credit where credit is due!

And now, to the next update!


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## Lars Frehse

*A short respite, part 4 of 4*

As the arcane powers of the wizard's magic hit him, Torn felt the strength draining out of him. And not only was he feeling weaker, but clumsier, more fatigued and stupider at the same time. Trepat, who came around the corner at the time noticed that he had never seen this particular spell, „affliction“ before- and kept it in mind in case he would want to use it himself, one of these days.

The rest of the friends rushed in and the armored humanoids intercepted them, positioning themselves between the adventurers and the evil mage. Ben, who was in his spider form, the weakened Halforc and Jan engaged them in melee and their opponents fought with an effective but soulless precision.

While Trepat supported the others with spells, Niklas tumbled past their direct opponents, too quick for them to react and now he found himself in front of the wizard. Before the spellcaster knew what was coming he hit him with his steel-like fists. In return the mage, who was now standing with his back to the wall cast another spell. Now the monk felt magical powers tug at him and as he was overcome by a feeling of vertigo he noticed that the wizard in front of him was growing rapidly to gigantic proportions. But no- the buildings were growing as well. The wizard isn’t growing, I am shrinking, Niklas mind screamed at the monk. In spite of his training he wanted to scream out as well, only to find that his voice failed him and he barely managed a croaking sound. Looking at what had become of his hand and being able to look at everything around him, Niklas realized the truth- he had been transformed into a toad.

Meanwhile, Jan had managed to defeat one of the armored opponents, and to his surprise, he saw that the pieces of armor simply fell loudly to the ground- empty. In fact, the armors seemed to have a life of their own!

Seeing that the wizard had dispatched of the monk, Ben used the gap that had opened up and attacked the spellcaster now as well, biting at him with his poisoned fang, while from behind, Trepat kept on attacking the wizard with his melf’s acid arrow, knowing that the constant burning agony that the acid created made it hard to concentrate on properly casting spells.

Jan kept on fighting with the animated armors as Torn advanced on the spellcaster as well. He simply tried to tumble past his opponent, as he had done many times before, but since he was still suffering from the magical affliction, he slipped on the wet floor and the animated armor cut him a deep gashing wound into his arm with it’s blackened sword.

He ignored the pain as good as he could and as he swung his chain, the wizard started to cast yet another spell. However, the acid seemed to distract him enough that he slightly mispronounced one of the arcane syllables, and the spell fizzled. 

Now, for the first time, real fear crept into the eyes of the wizard. Until now, his face had shown a confident sneer- and it was the kind of arrogant confidence based on many won battles. Before, all fights had had one thing in common: no matter how they had developed, the end was always the same- his enemies would beg Jhovintus the necromancer for mercy and receive none. This, however wasn’t going according to plan at all...

The automaton that had battled Torn was now attacking Jan as well, who now had to deal with three of the things. He kept them at bay, but soon he was tiring from blocking their repetitive blows, and every now and then they found a gap in his armor as well.

Then, however, Ben had sunk his jaws into the jugular vein of the magician who died screaming while the incarnate was mercilessly pumping his poison into him. Already, Torn turned around and together with the aid of Trepat, Jan shortly afterwards defeated the armors. Ben tossed the stinking corpse of the wizard to the wall, already turning into his halfling shape again, as something odd happened.

As the blood of the necromancer hit the wall of the pillar, a part of it started to glow, forming strange runes. The friends recognized them as oldfashioned, but still legible Orcish, saying:_ „Beware the sunkiller who shall...“_

Suddenly, an excited female voice shouted out behind them: „This is fantastic!“.

They turned around to see a petite, youthful woman of fair complexion who was dressed in simple, dun-colored clothes. She stood in the gap and smiled to the men: „Oh, I am sorry. You must wonder who I am! My name is Ara Koska Tabir and I am one of the scholars who work at the digsite near town. I have followed you with due distance after I saw what the wizard had done... The guards of the town are already on their way as well, only I was a bit faster, not wearing any heavy armor, you know...

She stopped shortly in order to get some air, and then she continued: „And now I am of course intrigued by that writing there! I think you have helped us a great bit!“.

Ben was flattered and offered to help her find more stones, so that they could maybe complete the message. She agreed, openly showing a fondness for the halfling, and the two of them started working. Niklas, a toad sitting on one of the wet rocks, croaked sadly, and Torn showed mercy on him by adressing Ara: „Say, is Silian still leading the scholars here?“

„Oh, yes, of course he is!“.

„Fine. I know that he is a competent wizard. See, our friend here would probably like to be a human once again, and since we obviously did him a favor, maybe he could transform him back out of pity and as a form of reward?“

„I am so sorry I forgot about that! Let’s go now!“

They went past the guards whom they promised to give a full report later that day and came to Silian’s house again. The old wizard looked just like the last time Torn had seen him and remembered him right away. After Ara had told him what had happened he not only promised to return Niklas to his old human self again on the next day, but also hinted that there would be something else he would like to talk about.

So, on the next day, after Niklas was finally a man again, after having spent an entire day as a toad, Silian and Ara lead them around in his mansion, showing them a vault where the scholars stored artifacts of the mysterious ancients and then he sat down with them for a hearty lunch in the library.

„We could use the help of competent young folks like yourself. You see, we are searching for an entrance to what is called the halls of Dunai. If you would find them, or even better, enter the halls yourself, we would be willing to pay you with some of those priceless artifacts we had shown you or money, if that is what you prefer. Before I go on, however, I would like to know whether you would generally be interested in that kind of work.“

All of them nodded, and he handed out pergaments to all of them, sighing heavily as he leaned over the table. On each of the pergaments there was a handwritten text of a transcript. It seemed to be a translation of a slarecian text about a three headed guardian of the Halls of Dunai.

When he saw that all of them were done reading, Ara, who sat next to Ben, spoke up: „ Even though the text was written in Slarecian, we are pretty sure that the Ancients weren’t serpentine creatures like them, but something else altogether. Furthermore, we are certain that by the time the Slarecians ruled the lands, the time of the Ancients had already been long, long gone.

„ Anyway, we are byy now pretty sure that the heads are in fact entrances. However, we only know that one of them is somewhere in the Kelders. We are all pretty much stuck here, so you may find out more if you would travel. So, your task would be to find at least one entrance, enter it, and find out as much as you can.“

They talked for a little while longer, discussing details of their contract and then, when they were alone, the friends decided to start out their search in Mithril. After all, they could ask Chel Azatan and if he couldn’t help them, they could try the library of the brotherhood of the fist, even though that was pretty much a labyrinth with little apparent logic to it.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*A clever device- part 1*

A week later, they stood in front of the gates of Mithril again. In the middle of their journey along the Codrada Corridor, they had been attacked by a pack of proud. The initial onslaught of the lion-centaurs had been rough, and the speed of the beasts allowed no escape, but after a tough battle, the friends defeated the titanspawn and Trepat had taken their fangs in order to have a necklace crafted out of them.

When the Paladins at the gate saw Jan, they waved them through and once inside, the friends split up. Jan went to his headquarter to make a report and the other three headed directly to Azatan.

The calastian bookmerchant was as friendly and as confused as ever. The store was still a chaotic mess- the whole room was full of books, some of which were piled up to the ceiling of the room, and in order to cross it, the friends had to squeeze themselves through small corridors which lead past the towers of books. After Azatan had offered his guest places to sit by clearing books and cats from chairs in the cramped room and after having made them tea he inquired how he could be of help.

First, Trepat offered him two of the books which they had recovered from Mailvaz’s tomb. Both seemed to have no academic use for them, one being a collection of immoral stories and the other one being pornographic in nature, and so they handed them over to the excited merchant. He cracked the books open, put his nose between the pages to smell them and then leafed through the pages, looking at the quality of the writing and the material, all the while muttering to himself.

After having thoroughly examined both tomes, he slammed then shut and said:“ I will give you 1.500 pieces of gold for both. What do you think?“

Surprised at the high value of the books, they nodded in agreement, accepting the offer without haggling. After all, they had come to trust the man after their past adventures and furthermore they still wanted him to help them.

Chel Azatan promised them to give them the money on the next day- obviously he didn’t keep that kind of money in his house- and then it was Niklas’ turn to tell him what kind of knowledge they had come for. The merchant listened intently. It was clear that for some strange reason the eccentric Calastian was especially fond of the monk, even though Niklas lacked in manners and had the tendency to make other people feel uncomfortable in his presence. 

When Niklas was done, Azatan hugged himself, bit his lower lip and moved his upper body back and forth on the chair, humming deeply as he was lost in thought. Then, suddenly, he jumped up and stepped to one of the piles of books with the dreamy certainty of a somnanbulist and pulled one heavy leatherbound book out of it.

He returned to the small stool on which he had been perched all along, leaving the more comfortable chairs to his guests, and before he turned his attention to the matter at hand he excused himself for being such a bad host and refilled their cups with more tea. Then he cracked open the book and after leafing through it for a minute he suddenly stopped and nailed a line in it with his outstretched right indexfinger.

„Hah!“, he cried out: „I knew it. Yes, you were right- the three heads are indeed three entrances... And I can even tell you where each of them is! The drowned head is in the swamps close to where Mullis Town was built. The burning head is on the island of Cyri and the howling head is in the howling valley in the Kelder mountains!“

„Great!“, Niklas said, ready to get up and shake hands: „This will be...“.

„I am sorry, but I think it is not of as much help as you think“, Azatan interrupted him: „You see, it says here that each of the heads will only open if the proper riddle is solved. And unfortunately, I don’t know what those riddles are...“.

Niklas sat down again: „That’s too bad. Do you know anyone who might know the riddles?“.

„No... That is, yes, there is one. An elf who had been cursed by the gods. He is called the „Keeper of Secrets“ and he lives under a mountain of iron near the coast of the village of Louitz at the northern coast.“.

Trepat saw that Azatan seemed lost in thought again and asked: „Why had he been cursed, and what kind of curse is it?“

„Oh, he had been investigating the secrets of the gods. Then, at one point Hedrada warned him, but the Keeper, who was then still known under a name that is long forgotten now, kept on disclosing the gods’ secrets. Worst of all, he told others, and so Hedrada punished him with the help of Enkili. A more than unusual case, that the god of order would work together with the god of chaos, but probably the Keeper had enraged both gods- and as you know, nothing bonds quicker than a common foe“.

The Calastian chuckled a little about his own joke, and then continued: „So, Hedrada imbued the heretic with the knowledge of all secrets and at the same time, he cursed him in a way that he would never be able to tell any of the secrets he knew, giving him the mocking title „Keeper of Secrets“ on top of it. As bad as this may be for the Keeper, this means that he would know the riddles you are looking for, even though he won’t be able to tell you the solutions, since they are most likely intended to be secrets.“.

Niklas nodded and said:“Thank you, so we will go to his mountain. Is there anything known about the entrance?“

„Yes“, Azatan answered, „the entrance is underwater. And close to the entrance, for almost a hundred yards, the water is constantly boiling. But don’t worry! I have already thought of a way how you can overcome this obstacle as well! One moment, please!“.

Again, he got up and after climbing over a pile of books, he procured a leaflet from a shelf behind the pile. Coming back, he flipped it open and handed the book over to Niklas so that all of them could take a look at the illustration in it. It looked like a laying down iron barrel with lobster like claws in front of it and small iron legs under it. At the front of the strange item, there were two tubes which were shaped a little like crabeyes.

„This my friends, is the apparatus of Kwalish! You could crawl in there and make it through the boiling water alive- which is what distinguishes it from a real lobster. A real one would certainly turn quickly into a nice dinner under such circumstances!“.

He chuckled again, and then continued: „ As it happens, I know where Kwalish had been to for his last expedition. The apparatus is most likely still there, on the ground of the ocean!“.


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## Red Baron

Lars Frehse said:
			
		

> *Scott, I am glad and flattered to hear you like it! *



Dear Lord, no need to be flattered by my lowly presence here! 

You run a good game, Lars. Keep up the great work. I look forward to my little stops in to check up on you. Yours is one of only two or three story hours I follow with any regularity...


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## Lars Frehse

Thanks. I aim to please. 

And nightfall, you had been unusually quiet lately. Bladebeast got your tongue?


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## Nightfall

Nah, just been a little busy of late but so far I'm loving it. Course what I'm dying for is the last third of the Cycle. And according to the Insider (posted today on S&SS's site), it might have the capacity to change the face of the Scarred Lands as we know it.


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## Lars Frehse

Cool! 
I am definetly looking forward to it. The way it looks, I will get around to write another update today, as the group will go out looking for the apparatus of Kwalish.


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## Nightfall

Sweet! Yeah not much longer now my friend. Come monday, the last piece will fall into place.


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## Lars Frehse

*A clever device- part 2*

Chel Azatan provided them with the name of the captain who had brought Kwalish to where the archmage had disappeared in the red dephts of the blood sea. This had been over fourty years ago now, but fortunately for them, this captain, a man called Strohman, had even been a resident of Mithril at that time. With that information, the friends went down to the harbor and asked around whether anybody knew him. Immediately, they were pointed to one big fisherboat in front of which four sailors had their catch of the day examined by two paladins who were checking the fish for signs of the taint of Khadum.

After the paladins had their assistants remove the tainted fish, about one fifth of the catch, the captain, a big, redhaired man in his thirties, started bartering with the local merchants who would eventually sell it on the fish market to the people of Mithril. When they were done, and after the captain had passed some of the silver on to his men, Jan adressed him:" Good day! We had been asking around for Captain Strohman and were pointed to you. Is he still under deck?"

The red bearded man laughed:"Why should he be standing under deck? I am Captain Strohman!"

Jan was confused:" And you have been ferrying the archmage Kwalish fourty years ago?"

"No, of course not. That was my father, may his sould rest in peace. Why do you ask?"

Hoping to prevent any further blunders of their Paladin, Trepat took hold of the conversation: "We would like to go to the point of the sea where he had dropped Kwalish and his apparatus into the ocean, since we would like to reclaim it."

:"I see. Well, I still got a copy of the journal of my father... Used to have the original, but then this strange Calastian bookworm offered me good gold for it...", Strohman said, his voice trailing away as he wondered how anybody in his right mind would pay so much money for the log of a fisherman. 

Suddenly, his face lit up with cheer, as he had an idea:" Anyway, I will be able to tell you as precisely as possible for a mortal where they had stopped. The wizard had given rather precise orders, but since there are no real points of orientation of the high sea, I can only lead you to the approximate position where the Apparatus had been dropped. But I am wondering: Have you got a boat to retrieve the apparatus with?"

Trepat shook his head and the captain went on:" We could use the Nelly 2, the spitting image of my father's ship, the Nelly.. I still have the plans how my dad had modified his Nelly with a crane to lower and pull the heavy iron apparatus. I could modify my ship and without any fish in it's haul, there will even be place for bunks for you men under deck. What do you think?"

Coming to terms with the cheerful fisherman was an easy and friendly affair. Obviously, all four of them were looking forward to have a change from their daily lives, and waiting for people who were moving around was far easier than the back breaking work of pulling in the heavy nets full of fish. 

This left the friends with one week in which the Nelly 2 would be modified. It was another break from their near constant travelling of the last two years and well needed. But when the week was over, they all were eager to get going again and met in the harbor at the first light of dawn.

The fisherboat was twentyfive feet long and looked round and chubby. It had one mast in the middle and it was here that the modification had taken place. Originally, there had been two long poles to which the nets had been attached. Out at sea, the poles would be folded out and the nets would hit the water. Now, there was one movable rod sticking out a right angle from the mast. At the end of it, there were two block and tackles. The idea was that once the friends had found the apparatus, they would fasten the ropes around the apparatus and that it would then be lifted with this crane.

They sailed out into a clouded morning, the morning sky as crimson as the ocean below them. As the sun rose, the weather held and it turned out to be a cool but calm autumm day. The air smelled of salt and the ship was rocking gently in the water when the captain decided that they had reached their target.

An anchor was dropped and Ben turned to his friends, telling them he would take a look. They knew what would happen next, but since they forgot to tell the crew, the fishermen all gaped in awe as the halfling suddenly jumped over the rail into the cold water, and then, just as he was about to hit the surface, changed his form into that of a fifteen foot long shark.

 By now Ben had remembered another one of his pastlife forms, an incarnation in which he had hunted in the depths of the oceans as a cold, remorseless predator. Now, as he hit the water, he took hold of those long lost instincts as confidently as if there hadn't been ages between his life as a shark and his life as a halfling.

He swam down into the depths of the sea until he reached the oceanfloor at about threehundred feet. It was dark here- hardly any light penetrated that deeply through the bloodred oceanwater, and he had to rely on his sense of smell. After looking around for a short whil and finding nothing of interest on the muddy ocean ground, he approached a squi.  The creature showed no sign of fear of the shark since the wolfskull, which retained it's powers even when Ben changed his form, made all animals see a wolf when they saw Ben- and since the squid had no idea what a wolf was, it did not think of hiding away from the predator.

When Ben asked him whether there was anything unusual nearby, the squid described an area of collums and domes nearby, but when Ben described the apparatus, the squid couldn't remember having ever seen anything like that.

Following the squid's directions, Ben finally reached a valley on the oceanground. There, hardly visible in the dim light, Ben saw towers, spires and domes. Right away, he noticed that the place had fallen to ruins- the towers and spires were broken, the stones of their upper parts strewn over the ground and the domes were all cracked open. Cautiously, he swam into the ruined city, and now that he was able to take a closer look, he soon found the tell tale signs of a battle- there were broken weapons and armor, and every now and then, there were skeletons of froglike humanoids.

Then, around one corner, crushed under a fallen column, he saw the skeletal remnants of pisceans, their broken harpoons still clutched in their fleshless hands. From that and what he had seen elsewhere, they must have been the attackers, and since there were many more remains of the frog-creatures and the city was completely ruined, they must have delivered a crushing defeat to the froglike creatures.

The ruins, the broken weapons and pots and the skeletons were all covered by corals of different shades of red and brown- whatever the battle had been about, it had been decades ago, possibly forgotten by all but those who had participated and survived to remember. 

As he swam deeper and deeper into the maze of ruins, Ben suddenly noticed a faint, but unpleasant humming in his head. He turned and swam a bit towrds a big square structure that was crowned by two pointed towers, and the humming became stronger. He was still at least two hundred feet away from it, and in the darkness he could hardly make out any details, but there was no evidence that it had taken any damage whatsoever, and it looked like it was the only intact building down here.

At the very least, the unknown source of the unpleasant sensation in Ben's head was in that building, and he had a hunch that if he wanted to find the apparatus of Kwalish, he would have to search there.


----------



## Talix

Congratulations on finding a plausible excuse for using the Apparatus in your game!  That's something I've never seen before.


----------



## Lars Frehse

I basically started out with creating the Keeper of Secrets. An online friend from another board is called that way, and I thought it would be a nifty name for a source of informations. So, once I came up with a raison d'etre for the name and the punishment involves, I was thinking of a way for the heroes to get to them. And suddenly it struck me: The apparatus of Kwalish. I had been thinking of integrating that thing into one of my campaigns for years now, and finally I had succeeded! In the meantime I had left the original plot idea presented in the Mithril sourcebook far behind, but who cares as long as everybody is having fun!

So, thank you. I am in fact very proud of myself!


----------



## Lars Frehse

*A clever device- part 3*

The pain in his head got worse and worse as he closed in on the complex. First, the humming turned into a throbbing sensation. A few seconds later, this throbbing turned into a hammering pain which soon became the very centre of his being.

As he was merely twenty yards away from the structure, he couldn’t go on any longer and swam away as fast as he could. Behind a building, he realized that the pain was gone again. For a short while Ben considered swimming up and telling his friends about what he had found, but eventually he came to the conclusion that he would have to come with something more than that.

So he steeled himself and swam with predatory elegance to the perimetre of where he expected the pain to kick in again. Then he thrust himself forward at full speed as the pain exploded in his head again. This time however, he kept on going until he saw a large, tunnel-like opening in the square structure that connected the two towers.

Blocking the pain from his conciousness, he swam into the tunnel which lead straight into the complex and turned upwards after a dozen yards. He followed it, swam up and after a few more yards, his sharkhead suddenly poked out of the water. He found himself in a small hall and to his relief, the headache was completely gone the moment his head left the water.

Ben changed back into his halfling form and pulled himself out of the water. The tunnel through which he had came was a pool of water of about ten feet in diametre in a square hall which was about ten feet long and wide. Under the ceiling, there were four incorporeal orbs of light, illuminating the hall with a cold, bright light.

It’s walls, floor and ceiling were equally covered with small lightgrey tiles, and there was one steel door which was apparently opened and closed by means of a big metal wheel which was fastened to it’s front. Apart from that, there wasn’t much of interest and Ben decided to pick up his friends before he would continue, and he jumped into the pool, changing back into his sharkform.

An hour later, he lead his friends, on whom he had cast a spell so that they could breathe water, into the hall. They had to hold to the shark’s body, since they were blind in the darkness of the ocean’s bottom. All of them had suffered from the pain again, and Jan was even bleeding from the ears, but he too was able to go on after a cure spell from Ben and a few minutes of breathing air again.

Behind the steel door, there was a short corridor with the same tiles as the first room. At the end of the corridor, there was another steel door. At first it seemed locked, but eventually they figured out that it could be opened if the first door was closed shut.

They entered a big room with a high ceiling. At the far ends, to the left and right, there were doors, and a huge marble spiral staircase lead up. In the centre of the room they saw the inhabitants of the towers for the first time.

There were six mansized humanoids with long arms and short legs and a frog-like head and they seemed oblivious of the presence of the heroes. Instead, all six of them were pushing and pulling on a huge iron lever which was connected to an wagon-sized hissing apparatus from which tubes lead to the floor and the ceiling.

While they were working on the strange machine, the six stared ahead with dead eyes and the only parts of their bodies that moved where their arms, which went evenly up and down. Not even once did they shift their weight or talk to each other- instead they were eerily silent.

Jan stepped towards them and raised his hand in greeting, but even as he cheerfully said „Greetings!“ in a voice that was way too loud in his own ears, they didn’t react. Cautiously he walked right up to one of the frogmen. All of them were uniformly dressed in light blue suits made from a slick and shining material.

„Maybe they are golems“, Jan said: „They are definetly not evil“.

Trepat shook his head: „Looks more like well-preserved Zombies to me. I wonder what this machine is for, though.“

„Maybe it pumps air“, Niklas offered. „We should leave them alone, I think.“

Ben agreed: „Sure. Let’s look around. I don’t think that they are any danger for us.“.

The towers seemed deserted. There were large messhalls with row after row of stonebenches and –tables, but the friends found no sign of any recent habitation. As they went up level after level, they occassionaly encountered further frog-zombies. All of those were as unresponsive as the ones they had encountered at the pump, and they were all doing simple menial tasks like cleaning the floor with a mop or polishing the stone furniture.

The only sounds they heared where those they made themselves or of an occasional undead janitor. It was all rather bizarre. „But why would anybody create those Zombies in the first place?“, Jan asked

„ Maybe Kwalish didn’t die those fourty years ago and settled down here insted“, Trepat said.

„That would make sense“, Ben said: „After all I could hardly imagine an archmage mopping up the floors. So he created things to do that for him.“.

Niklas looked around: „It doesn’t look as if he would be exactly euphoric about our arrival, then.“

„Either that“, Trepat added, „or he isn’t aware of our presence. Or maybe he is gone or dead. In any case, we won’t find out by sticking around in here!“.

They walked on, searching around and going higher and higher in the process. Eventually, after having swept through countless deserted hallways, rooms and halls, they climbed yet another iron spiral staircase. It lead them to one huge circular chamber which seemed to cover this entire level of the tower.

It was barren, apart from a spiral staircase in it’s middle and eight iron machines in front of it. Each of them was about mansized and mounted on two legs and they all looked roughly humanoid. Four of them had one arm which ended in a hammer which was about as big as it’s body and the other arm ended in an equally huge lobster-like claw. The other four had no heads- instead, their bodies ended in turrets and their arms ended in what looked like big drills.

Before the adventurers had time to fully take in that scenario, however, a greenish forcefield appeared around the spiral staircase in the middle of the hall and over the opening through which they had come. Then, a dark, full voice came from nowwhere: „You have one minute to utter the password. If you fail to utter it within this timespan, you will be destroyed. I am sorry about any inconvinience this my create.“.

For a few seconds, no one said a word. Then, Ben shouted: „Kwalish“ and seeing that nothing happened, everyone shouted the words that came to his mind, creating a kakophonia in which such words as „Apparatus“, „Mithril“ and „Donnangar“, among others were shouted at random. The friends frantically tried to come up with the word that would keep the automatons from coming to life- they looked bad enough as they were, and they didn’t intend to see them spring in action.

But then, just as the last syllable of the name „Captain Strohman“ was dying on Niklas lips, the automatons came to life. Their minute was over.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*A clever device- part 4 of 4*

The moment the automatons sprang to life, Jan charged forward, his bastardsword raised high over his head. He hacked at one of the hammerers and sparks flew where his sword hit the iron body. Then, however, the automaton swang his giant hammer at him and suddenly Jan realized that he had charged ahead on his own and that his friends were still several yards behind him.

As three of the automatons swung their giant hammers at the lonely paladin, pummeling him bad and denting his steelarmor as if it was nothing more than a can made of tin, one of the turret-shaped golems stepped ahead and uttered a deep, thundering booming shockwave, hitting Ben, who had just summoned a flame blade, throwing him back a few feet.

The remaining four golems started to move, about to shoot at the stragglers and hit the Paladin, but suddenly, they stopped in mid-movement, as if uncertain of what to do next. Meanwhile Niklas attacked the turret-golem that had attacked Ben while Trepat helped with his arrows and Ben struggled forward in order to heal the heavily injured Paladin.

As they fought, the automatons continued to act inconsistiently- one moment they would strike or attack with full force, moving around to get into battle, and on the next they would stop acting in mid movement, even if their foe was standing right in front of them. Then, apparently randomly, they sprang back into action, continuing where they had stopped several seconds before only to stop moving a few moments later.

Nonetheless it was a tough battle. The golems used their hammers with a force that could shatter the strongest stones or metals, let alone flesh and bones and the walking turrets repeatedly knocked the wind out of Trepat's lungs with their sonic attack, keeping him too stunned to fight back most of the time. When they weren't shooting, they used their drills to stab at the adventurers.

Just when Ben was done taking care of Jan, who succeeded in destroying two automatons, which shattered into motionless scraps, he had to run over to Niklas who took care of the turrets in attempt to help Trepat. Then, Trepat and Jan seemed to have things under control and Ben ran back. Trepat hadn't gotten back up after one especially vicious sonic attack and was now laying on the floor.

Sighing with relief as he saw that his friend was unconcious but still alive, Ben used his magic to revive Trepat. Now the elf shot arrows charged with electricity at the golems and Ben charged them with his flame-blade. The tide of the battle turned now, and the friends defeated the last of the golems. Each of them was wounded, but they all ignored their pain for the moment since they were still facing the dilemma that they were trapped.

Niklas cautiosly poked his glaive at the forcefield in the floor, but it was blocked as solidly as if he had hit the wall. Just as he was about to thrust with more strength, he wheeled around as he heard a voice behind asking:"Why have you come here?"

While they had concentrated on the opening through which they had come, a human had walked down the spiral staircase in the middle of the hall and was now standing ten feet high and facing them. He looked like a man in his fifties with well combed black hair that was greying at the temples, and he was dressed in a leathery robe of redish-brown. Instead of a hand, his left arm ended in a slightly oversized lobster-claw and he looked at the intruders expectantly.

Niklas was the first to speak:" Kwalish, I presume?"

The man nodded and his dark voice was more puzzled than menacing :" That's right.Now, tell me, what are you doing here?"

"We came here to look for the fabled apparatus of Kwalish, sir.", Ben said.

"Ah! Well, "fabled" sounds good to me... But first I have to know: where do you come from and what do you need it for?".

They told him about their quest and once they had mentioned that they came from Mithril he broke a smile: "Very well then! I have already figured that you couldn't be so bad, given that you have a paladin of Corean with you..."
He waved his claw and the shimmering forcefields disappeared:" In that case I am sorry you were attacked by my creations, but I really didn't expect any visitors and I had been busy myself. If you like, you may rest in my chambers upstairs, and tomorrow I will lead you to the apparatus. I have parked it somewhere outside and it has been a while, but I am sure I will find it again. You can have it to visit the keeper of secrets if you promise to bring it back when you are done"

They thanked him and after he had assured them that it would be the least he could do, he lead them upstairs into his living chambers. Here the floors were covered with soft rugs and the rooms were furnished with pieces of furniture from all over Ghelspad without any consideration of composition of style or color. For example, a heavy Albadian bench stood next to a light and intricately decorated Shelzarian cabinet which was filled with roughly crafted mugs from Darakeene.

Once they had settled down in a room with cushion covered floor Kwalish answered all their questions. He had originally come here to settle down with the original inhabitants of this underwater city. They were called "Kuo Toas" and according to the half-crustacean archmage they were "nasty people" but they had offered him a deal that had allowed him to work on his automatons and other inventions.

Ten years after he had settled down and shortly after the blood-monsoon, Pisceans attacked the city. He had offered the Kuo Toas to seek refuge in his towers, but they were eager to fight and in the process all of them, including children and the old, were killed. Some pisceans had entered the towers, but he had "persuaded" them to stay away.

Then he had reanimated some of the dead in order to take care of menial tasks around the towers and settled down for his research again. Ever since then, noone had come to visit him, and he had even forgotten about the password and the automatons.

"And what is the password?", Niklas asked.

Kwalish shrugged: "I don't know anymore. I bet I have it written down somewhere, though. But I think it is time to go to sleep now. You may settle down anywhere in this level. But please don't go any further up, since there are some experiments there which could prove fatal for you."

With that he waved them goodbye with his claw and went through the door. Finally alone, Jan said:" He seems like a nice enough fellow".

"Yeah", Ben said, "and still he almost had us killed. I think we should stay together tonight, lest we stumble over another of his forgotten inventions.".


----------



## Talix

Sure doesn't seem too upset that they just trashed his golems.  Oh well, hope he turns out to be a good guy after all.


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## Lars Frehse

Oh, I forgot to mention that they had been faulty to start out with! I used the automatons from the MM2, and they have some sort of a "motivation-problem". Every round, you roll a D20 and if you roll below 11, they don't act! 

So, for an archmage like Kwalish, those can be considered failed experiments, and he was actually glad to be rid of those embarassing failed prototypes. 

I will definetly add a little line about that to the next update (which will be coming in the next hour) though.


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## Lars Frehse

*Secrets- Part 1*

On the next morning, Kwalish lead them through the ruins. While they were going down to the first chamber, he explained to them that he was actually glad that they had destroyed his constructs: „As you probably have noticed, they have some sort of motivation problems, so that they sometimes fail to act according to their duties... So, it is a good thing that you got rid of them in a way. You know, I think they are a bit, well, embarassing for an archmage of my standing.“

When they entered the pool, Kwalish cast a spell, and this time, the friends were able to go ahead without the splitting headaches of the previous day.

Two hours later, they were still walking through the submerged ruins. After walking around for a while, the archmage suddenly exclaimed that he now remembered where he had parked the apparatus. But as they turned around the cracked granite dome behind which he had expected it, there was nothing there but rubble and corals. All in all, Kwalish appeared like a man who had misplaced his keys somewhere in his messed up house, only that in this case, they "key" was an iron barrel the size of a wagon and the "house" was a ruinfield of several square miles.

This, of course, didn't make the search any easier. Kwalish was often distracted and soon the adventurers were having trouble at hiding their rising impatience. Suddenly, however, the archmage stopped dead in his track. He slapped his forehead in slowmotion- the water made everything much slower here than over the surface- and he cast a spell. Trepat recognized it as a divination spell that was used to locate objects.

With this magically gained knowledge, he now stepped ahead with the confidence of a carrier pigeon on it's way back home. Soon, under a broken marble collum, they saw it, apparently unharmed by the passage of decades and the destruction of the Kuo-Toa-city: The apparatus of Kwalish.

Kwalish walked up to it and pushed the heavy collum away with his claw, as if it were nothing more than a broken branch. Then he fiddled around a little with the hatch at the back of the machine and opened it. There was barely enough space in there for all five of them, and the front two would have to work the levers inside of the machine in order to move it around.

After reminding them to return the apparatus once they had used it, he waved them goodbye with his claw and walked away, already seemingly oblivious of them. Ben went up and after having lead the ship to a position directly above the apparatus, he brought down the rope between his jaws. His friends tied it around the rump of the machine, and after jerking the rope three times, the crew on the Nellie 2 pulled it on board.

Three days later, they were sailing along the ragged eastern coast of Lede. The wind was blowing and the waves were crashing against the black rocks which were jutting out of the water close to the hostile looking coast. Captain Strohman kept the Nellie 2 cutting through the water against the wind and then, as they circled around a cape of black rock, they saw the iron mountain Chel Azatan had told them about.

It was dark grey, cone shaped and it's peak was about three hundred yards over the water. It was hard to make out any details on the rock itself, since it looked uniformly irongrey and it was engulfed in misty vapors. As the ship approached the mountain and the mist, the friends noticed a roaring sound. With his elven eyes, Trepat realized that indeed the water ahead all around the mountain was boiling, creating the shroud of watervapor that covered the mountain like a cloak.

He told Captain Strohman about it and he gave order to turn around. Eventually, they dropped their anchor to the north of the mountain and away from the boiling water. Chel Azatan had told them that the entrance lay in the north at the base and so they lowered the apparatus into the water there.

This time, only Trepat and Torn had entered the apparatus, and it was already claustrophobically cramped inside. They were perched on a little bench next to each other, moving levers and alternatively looking through the periscope-eyes. The ocean floor was barren here and after some attempts at figuring out the controls, they found a way to coordinate their movements.

Since the apparatus was faster when it moved backwards, much like it's living counterpart, the lobster, they walked backwards to the mountain. As they were nearing the boiling water, it got hotter and hotter in the small barrel, and soon both of them were sweating profusely while the moisture of their breath and their sweat was condensing on the inside wall of the apparatus, which stayed comparatively cool.

When they reached the boiling water, it got even hotter, but at least it was still bareable in the apparatus and the stale air didn't get too hot for breathing. They were furthermore reliefed by how the ground remained solid under them. Due to the boiling water, their range of sight through the periscopes was naturally limited, but they simply went straight backwards until they felt the iron lobster bump against the base of the mountain.

Then, they began to feel their way around until suddenly they were able to move even further. Now it was dark, but turning on their outside lightsource, they saw that they were now in a tunnel and that the water wasn't boiling anymore.

Switching two levers at once, they moved straight forward until they saw Ben roaming through the water in his sharkform. Ben took the Nellie's anchor between his jaws and carried it over to the apparatus where Torn worked one of the claws with his levers and grabbed for the anchor. Then, holding fast, they were pulled up again.

Back on the ship, Trepat and Torn opened the hatch and scrambled outside, eagerly gulping the fresh air. Both were covered in sweat, most of which was Torn's, and after a few minutes of cool, fresh air on the rocking boat, all five of them crawled into the apparatus. It had been cramped with two in there, but now, with all five of them it was almost unbearable. They were pressed together and the Niklas' and Jan's knees were drilling into Torn's and Trepat's back while Ben sat on their legs, in the small space between the four.

Everytime Trepat or Torn had to move a lever, it lead to all kinds of contortions within the confined space of the lobster. As it got hotter, the air grew worse and worse and all of them were covered with the sweat of everyone else. Especially for the three behind, it was unbearable. Without having any way to find out just where the apparatus was positioned, they could only wait for the two in the front to tell them to wait just a little longer.

Finally, Torn told them in between moving levers and everytime he looked through his periscope:" We are in the tunnel now.. Going ahead... Still going straight ahead... I think we are going up now... Out of the water..."

Then his voice changed, and he shouted:" We are on land! Quick, open the hatch!".

Niklas, who had the lever of the hatch drilling into his back, reached behind himself and fell backwards as it opened up. Soon his friends tumbled out as well, all of them drenched in sweat and breathing deeply.

They were standing in a natural cave now and the apparatus had crawled out of what looked like small pool behind them. Even though it felt cool and dry to them, it was still as hot and humid as a Shelzarian steambath, and the walls of the cave were all wet from the warm water in the pool. Opposite of them, in the cave wall, there was what appeared to be an opening which was covered with a curtain consisting of beads made from little shells.


----------



## Nightfall

No offense Lars, but I hope you get Serpent Citadel soon.  Something about finishing out the trilogy appeals to me.


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## Lars Frehse

Nah, no offense taken. If so, only a little. 
As you will see, this will soon lead to a continuation of my "Orcs of Lede" storyline, so it does have a relevance for my campaign.

Anyway, for the following update, I had been using ideas from the book of challenges, so again, credit to those who deserve it!


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## Lars Frehse

*Secrets- part 2*

Behind the curtain, there was a dry and cool corridor that lead them to the middle of the mountain, where it ended abruptly. Instead, it opened into a shaft which lead roughly eighty feet upwards.

Ben transformed into his spiderform and scaled up, noticing that shortly before arriving, he felt weaker. Apparently, the bullstrength that Trepat had cast on him had been dispelled by a trap that was supposed to kill off people who went up the shaft by means of magical flight. While the effect was merely a nuisance for Ben as it were, it would have been downright lethal had a „fly“ or a „spiderclimb“ spell been dispelled.

The shaft lead to yet another corridor with three doors: One at the far end and one to the left and right in the middle of it. After the friends had climbed up on a rope which Ben had fastened to one of the doors, they first tried the left door. However, they found no apparent means of opening the door and so they turned to the right one which could easily be opened with a door handle.

Again, there was a corridor, this one turning left after a short while. However, the friends soon realized that unlike the previous corridors, this one was far from empty. In fact, as they followed it’s path, which was an inward spiral, they saw several traps that had been previously activated. There was a blade on a pendulum hanging from the ceiling, open trapdoors, scorchmarks where fireballs had been set off, and so on.

In the center of the spiral, there was a small room which was empty except for one thing: a big, iron lever that was attached to the wall.

„Well...“, Trepat said, slowly backing out of the room: „I think you can deal with that yourself, Torn. I will just wait outside.“

Torn nodded, his face turning sour: „Yeah, you’re right. If this lever really does what we both seem to think it does, you might as well. You couldn’t help me and so you guys shouldn’t take the risk.“

„Huh? What do you think the lever does?“, Jan asked.

Torn rolled his eyes: „I think we all think that if this lever is pulled the door opposite this spiral corridor gets opened. But probably the traps get primed again as well. So you might as well get out of here now and let me do my work.“

Jan’s face lightened up as he understood but then it darkened again. It wasn’t like him to leave a friend behind in order to face dangers on his own, but he was aware that there was nothing he could do to help. His strong arm and his sword weren’t able to fight more open enemies than those traps.

„I will stay behind though“, Ben said and as he saw the puzzled looks of his companions, he added: „I will stay at a good distance behind Torn, of course. But in case he is unlucky, he might need my healing abilities in order to make it through.“.

And so it was decided. Jan, Niklas and Trepat walked back past the traps through the spiral to the main corridor. Then, after having left them enough time to get out Torn pulled the lever and immediately, they knew that at least part of their theory was right: from the corridor behind them, they heard whirring, clicking and grinding noises, as whirring blades went back into their hiding places in the wall an, pits closed up again and every other trap got primed as well.

Not expecting any success, Torn tried to move the lever again, but it was stuck and all he could possibly achieve by pulling it any further would have been breaking it. Torn sighed, regretting for the moment that situations like this were his job, and then he started walking back the spiral walkway, carefully checking for tell tale signs of traps in the corridor while Ben leisurely stayed behind him.

He turned around the first corners when suddenly he felt the mental grip of a magical trap in his mind. He wrestled with this force for a moment, and then, he had conquered it. Then he continued on to the next corridor where he disabled a set of whirling blades, which would have cut him into many slices.

Next, around yet another corner, he went to where he remembered that there had been a pit before. Now, however, it was completely covered and as he hunkered down, trying to see where exactly the pit began, he suddenly felt the ground under him give away. Before he could react, he was falling down eighty feet, crashing right onto the spikes on the pit floor.

Severly wounded and aching, he climbed out of the pit again where Ben healed him. He grunted, leaving Ben to wonder whether it was meant as a thanks for the healing or a surpressed curse at Torn’s own profession and then he went on down the corridor.

Next, he stood at the corner where scorchmarks on the floor over the entire length of the corridor indicated that something dangerous would be triggered there. Carefully he bent into the corridor, not touching the floor and examined the corner wall for a mechanism that could have caused the marks. In an instant he felt his hair on his arms rising, and fearing the worst he rolled back into the corridor from which he had come as just at that moment a huge bolt of lightning cracked through the other corridor.

He closed his eyes and silently thanked Erias before getting up and continuing dorn the corridor. He turned right once again, but even though he carefully looked for signs and he had seen no traps there, he triggered yet another one. Again, he became victim of a magical trap and a shattering noise hit him from both sides, leaving him winded, bruised and a whistiling in his ears. Again, the unharmed halfing walked up to him again and healed him.

Eventually, after Torn had been slashed by a scythe, blasted by a fireball, and cut by a pendulum blade they made it out of the spiral. Their friends welcomed them in the main corridor, showing their concern about the bruised, scorched, cut and all in all badly pummeled looking half-orc.

The next door lead to another corridor which ended at a fork. Torn, who walked up front saw that the corridor there was a dead end. To his left, it penetrated merely ten feet into his mountain and to the right it was only twenty feet long and ending in a pit. Before he could tell his friends about that, however, an iron portcullis crashed into the ground, seperating him from his friends.

However, he now noticed that that wasn’t even the worst about his situation yet. To his left, where he had thought that the corridor had been empty, he now saw something moving. Something that was exactly filling up the corridor and which was transparent. There was a gelatinous cube moving towards him and there was no way for Torn to dodge that thing...


----------



## Talix

D'oh!  

I love traps and challenges - they're difficult to work plausibly into the plot very often, but they're so fun!


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## Lars Frehse

Glad to hear you like it! I like them as well, especially if they are not downright deadly. In other words, I always hated traps that  meant save vs poison or die.
Anyway, the group enjoyed those traps quite a bit, especially since Torn got hit over and over again, like a character in a cartoon show like Roadrunner or Tom and Jerry.


----------



## Nightfall

Poor Torn. I bet though he's getting a mit tired of insane wizards leaving dangerous traps lying around...


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Secrets- part 3*

With lightning speed, he simoultanously shouted:"Help me!" and dove down to the portcullis, grabbing it's lower bar with both hands. Niklas understood and dove down as well, and both strained against the weight  of the portcullis until every vein on their arms and their necks stood out and their heads were crimson. For a moment, they felt the portcullis grinding up, but then Torn's hands, which were wet from his sweat, slipped, and the tiny fraction of an inch they had gained with so much effort was lost along with Torn’s hope of a quick escape.

The next thing Torn knew was that he was laying in a pool of water and his friends told him about how the gelatinous cube had swallowed him up and how they had then defeated the thing with their magical weapons and spells. The halforc himself was sore all over his body- the digestive acid of the thing had eaten away most of the upper layer of his skin.

Again, Ben had to treat his wounds while Torn was cursing:"Is this keeper of secrets guy mad? Why in the names of all gods would he devise all those traps? The fellow already has the boiling water to keep people away. If he doesn't want any visitors, he might as well have closed the first corridor with bricks or something. I can't wait...

He screamed out and turned to Ben who had just put some lotion on an especially sore part:" Ouch! Be more careful, will ya? Anyway, I can't wait to lay my hands on the man!".

Ben was finished bandaging him:" I can see that. Still, don't forget that we have to talk to him first.".

"I know", Torn said, most of his fury gone already once he had aired it:" I know.".

Hanging on the wall in the thirty feet deep pit, they found a key and a potion that was neatly labeled "spiderclimb". The idea seemed to be that whoever entered the corridor would get locked in by the portcullis. Then, becoming aware of the homicidal gelatinous cube, the intruder would run for the pit. The cube would follow, neatly filling up the proportions of the pit. Then, once it would start to digest the intruder, it would digest the cork in the potion as well, and once the effect would kick in, it would simply climb up the walls again and return to it's initial position, effectively "rearming" the trap.

The key opened the door at the far end, and for the first time in the mountain, the friends entered a furnished room. It was a long hall with mirrors on the far end, crystal chandeliers under the ceiling and a red carpet on the floor. The walls were covered with flowery tapestries, making the contrast to the previous, uniformly grey corridors all the more outstanding. Flanked by the mirrors, there was an ornamented wooden door.

Cautiously looking for traps or surprises, they walked through the hall to the far door. Even though they expected traps to be triggered or other devious surprises nothing happened, so that they relaxed a little when they had been almost through the room.

As they were merely a few yards away from the door, seeing their images in the mansized mirrors, Trepat stepped ahead in order to check the door for traps. Right then, it became clear to them, that the room did have something in store for them. Suddenly, their reflections developed a life of their own- instead of just aping what the original did, they started to move on their own instead and, worst of all, they actually stepped out of the mirrors with murder in their eyes!

Immediately, the friends saw that their doubles weren't full copies of themselves. Trepat's double, for instance didn't cast any spells. Instead, they were all moving with lightning speed slamming at their respective originals with their fists.

Torn, who stood up front, positioned himself in the middle, intending to gain an advantage with the superior range of his chain. When he hit his own reflection, he was shortly stunned though. His chain sunk into the enemy, and where he hit it, he now saw that their opponents seemed to be composed of quicksilver, since they were liquid and a part of the liquid shot to the floor.

Then they were at him, hitting him hard with their fists. Torn had had a bad day already, and he was far from being totally recovered. So this was enough and he collapsed, his mind being engulfed by merciful blackness.

Outnumbered, Niklas had an idea. He tumbled past his double and jabbed his glaive at the mirror. It seemed to have been worked from silver, but still he dented it a bit and a small, corresponding dent appeared on his reflection. His friends understood, and Trepat, who was backing away from his "reflection" cast an acid arrow on the dented arrow while Ben kept on fighting the strange things. Incidentally, he had transformed into a spider once the battle had begun, but the thing that had taken his form remained in it's halfling shape.

Niklas smashed the already badly damaged mirror with a circle kick, smashing it, and his double exploded in a small mercurial shower. This evened the odds again, but still they had to fight an equal number of enemies. Even though their enemies only struck with their fists, they were incredibly strong and they had a knack for hitting where it hurts.

Trepat was knocked around by the thing that had taken his forms, and then it landed a hit at his temple, making his head feel like a thundering bell. He was barely able to keep standing and there were green spots dancing in his field of vision as the thing moved in for the kill and- exploded into yet another shower of quicksilver. Just in time, Niklas had smashed the mirror Trepat's enemy had come from.

Still feeling weak, Trepat fought down his nausea and drank one of his healing potions. Immediately he felt better and using his acid arrows, he helped Niklas destroying the remaining mirrors. Eventually, when the last mercurial opponent was destroyed, Ben healed Torn and they decided to rest here in the hall before moving on.

To their relief, they weren't disturbed and after they had all had some time to recover, they opened the door and walked up the stairs behind it. As they walked up, the stairs widened until they ended in front of a pair of huge doors. They pushed them open and right away the air changed. The stale air of the tunnels was immediately substituted by the fresh smells of plants and life and the looked into a huge cave in which all kinds of vegetables, flowers and herbs were growing. From several openings in the caveceiling sunlight was streaming down on what looked like a huge garden and in the back of the cave stood an elven house with a porch.

On the porch, turned in their direction, they saw a lanky elf in a tight green suit. He seemed to be expecting them, even though he was still too far away for them to make out his facial expression.

A meandering path lead past the plants until they found themselves flanked by towering sunflowers right in front of the porch. The Keeper spread his arms in a universial gesture of greeting and gingerly danced down the stairs to them, smiling noncomittically.

"Welcome Torn, Niklas, Jan, Ben and Trepat. I am the one who is called the keeper of secrets and it certainly is no secret that you have many questions. Come inside, we can talk about everything over breakfast."

He turned around, and walked back inside, but then, suddenly he turned his head over his shoulder and looked straight at Torn:" And you really shouldn't think of bashing in my skull. For two reasons, really. First, it wasn't me who had constructed those traps. Everyone who visits me encounters a number of hazards- rest assured that I devised none of the traps you had run into. So, probably that is part of my curse, and if I had any money, I would bet that this part of it is was devised by Enkili.

"And secondly, and more importantly to you, the gods don't like it when mortals try to interfere with their plans. And since the gods don't wish my death, it wouldn't be wise of you to be the cause of it.".


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Secrets- part 4 of 5*

The front room had been prepared for breafast. There was a big oaken table which was covered with freshly baked bread and there was plenty of fruit and vegetable.

"Sit down and eat", the keeper announced while waving his arm in an inviting gesture "All provided by the garden through which you have come.".

The friends accepted the invitation and after silently eating and drinking for a while, enjoying the delicious freshness of the food in spite of the season outside of the mountain.

"So," Ben said, in between two bites:" Can you tell us the three riddles we are looking for?".

The keeper had been watching his guests eat and drink, only occasionaly sipping from a small cup of tea. "Of course" he said and then he cleared his throat and recited from memory:"These are the three riddles of the three heads:

"The burning head shall aid the one who eases it's pain. The drowned head shall aid the one who brings it the breath of life. The howling head shall aid the one who brings the song of the winds and turns it's pain to joy.".

Niklas, who had written down the riddles, looked up:" And the burning head is on Cyri, the drowned one close to Mullis Town and the howling one is in the Kelders, close to Ghest Ghanest... Thank you. Is there anything we could do for you in return?"

The keeper smiled and shook his head:" No, thanks. I am provided with everything I need to here in my exile."

"I hope I am not being rude, but is there any way for your curse to be lifted?", Niklas asked him.

"Oh, no, you are not being rude at all. And since it is not intended to be a secret either, I can indeed tell you about the condition that would lift the curse: That is if I would worship the gods."

Now Torn was surprised:" You don't worship them?".

Now the keeper laughed out:"I certainly don't! Now, there is no doubt that they are indeed extremely powerful beings, with abilities far beyond the grasp of us mortals. But power and strength alone don't warrant worship to me. For example, we all are far more powerful than any mouse there is. Yet we don't expect the mice to worship us, do we?

"And I don't think that their personalities make them worthy of our worship, either. For example, while Corean and Chardun have a truce, not harming each other, they allow their worshippers to endlessly fight and kill each other. Instead of fighting themselves, they delegate the actual suffering to their delegates."

"But the gods defeated the titans!", Niklas said.

The keeper smirked, indicating that he was well aware of that argument:" Indeed they did. But what will the effects be. You see, there are indications that the previous ages had been linked to one titan each. Now, after a number of other ages, it was Denev's turn. Maybe this cycle had a function that we can't see... The way it is now, we will forever stay in the age of Denev.

"Sure, the titans were lethal for us, and hadn't they been defeated we would have probably all been wiped out. But the titans are like mindless forces. But just like a fire in a forest is a catastrophe for those who are in it, plants, animals and sentient beings alike it is ultimately necessary and leads the forest into a new cycle. I might even go as far as saying that occasionaly, those fires are even necessary. Maybe it is the same with Scarn. Maybe the destructive powers of the titans were ultimately necessary for the universe to go on..."

Ben turned to the others and rose in his seat:" I think we should get going now. We have what we had come for.".

"Let's just stay for a little longer", Torn said:" And what makes you think that?"

"Oh, just reflecting on the well known facts. After all, it is not as if I would be able to tell you any secrets. It is well known that there had been different ages before the current one, and it looks like that in each age, the druids had the powers of the titan who was in charge. But all druids, no matter which titan they follow, now have pretty much the same powers, which all seem to come from Denev. So, I wonder whether there will be any consequences because of that."

While his companions were already rising, unsettled by the blasphemy, Torn pressed on:" And even though all you would have to do is bow your head in order to get rid of the curse, you don't do it?"

"That is right. I am not willing to give them this pleasure. And this way, by enduring the penalty without letting it dominate me, I am truly free. I won't let the outer circumstances of my existence dictate the state of my mind. All that matters is that I exist. Hence this punishment is irrelevant to me and I can laugh into the face of those who had devised this confinement.".

Torn and Trepat shook hands with the keeper and the others waved him goodbye, and soon afterwards, they were back on the Nellie 2, sailing south to the island of Cyri.

On their way there, they were stopped by pisceans, but Captain Strohman seemed to be used to situations like these, and after throwing a bag filled with coins down to the fishmen, they were free to sail on. Furtunately for them, he not only knew how to deal with the pisceans, but he also knew the blood sea like his own vest pocket. So, he safely brought them around the deadly cliffs and reefs around the island and safely landed them on the southern black shore of the uninhabitable volcanic island.


----------



## Nightfall

Well now does this mean what I think it means...The Citadel and thus the end of the Cycle for the Serpent Amphora?


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## Talix

Heh, I like the Keeper.    Sounds like a fun NPC to play.


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## Lars Frehse

Nightfall, I am currently lagging behind a little in my storyhour and I have only gotten the third part of the trilogy today. This means, you will have to wait a little bit longer until I can continue that. The only other way would have been for me to make up the third part...

Talix, yeah, he was fun. It was a little bit like playing an existentialist in a fantasy world, which was especially gratifying since I do like existentialism.


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## Lars Frehse

*Secrets- part 5 of 6*

They entered the open maw only to find themselves in what looked like a natural cave, even though it was highly unlikely that a natural cave would survive the millenia in the foot of a volcanoe. It was huge, and the walls and the ceiling were lost in darkness far beyond where the light of their lanterns went.

In it's middle, there was a pedestal with what looked like several strange runes next to each other. The runes looked a little bit like the orcish ones they had seen in Hor' Kung but made no sense. Torn copied the runes and after exploring the cave a little, they discovered a huge tunnel, which was as wide as the Kodrada corridor and at least thirty feet high. The floor here was smooth, giving the tunnel the look and feel of a big subterrean highway.

The road went on for several miles in a straight line until it eventually opened up again to another vast cave. It was even bigger than the previous one, and there was an entire town spread out in it! Small one storey flatroofed houses made of grey metal stood in a neat pattern everywhere they looked. However, all of the houses were completely empty, and no furniture, clothing or any other indication of a habitation could be found.

As they walked through the deserted streets, the friends became more and more aware of the total silence around them. The only thing they heard where their own steps, their breath and an occasional hushed words. They even whispered themselves, somehow sensing that booming talk would be innapropriate.

They went further ahead, and soon they reached another big tunnel. As they went on exploring, they discovered further vast caves. In one, there were hundreds of solid towers standing in irregular intervals. They were crowned with housesized pearly orbs, and lightning bolts were constantly and randomly jumping from one orb to another, occasionaly flooding the entire cave with bluish light. Sometimes the bolts of lightning were merely jumping the few dozen yards between two towers which were standing next to each other, but sometimes, without any apparent reason, the lightning would arc through the entirecave from one tower at one far end to another one at the other end, spanning almost 600 yards.

The next giant cave had collapsed. Whatever wonders had been there once were gone now, but the friends found that there still way that lead past the boulders and debris until they found themselves in yet another giant tunnel. This one lead to the next cave, filled with livesized statues of all sorts of beasts.

There were statues of such mundane threats, such as lions and wolves, but also more sinister predators, like bladebeasts and Vengauraks, among others. As the friends crossed the cave, they couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched, and Niklas even thought he heard a barely audible grawl when he examined the statue of one especially vicious looking wolf.

This time, they didn’t stay for long and quickly made for the exit on the opposite side of the cave. Again, a tunnel, but the cave behind this one looked distinctively different than the ones they had been in before.

For once, it was much smaller than the previous ones: merely twenty yards in diameter and about as high. Along it’s wall, there was a walkway spiralling up to right under the ceiling, and in regular intervalls, there were mansized crystal-mirrors standing there. The friends looked at them: Some of them were simply dark, other glowed with crimson fire and yet others were merely glowing faintly, as if filtering light that had made a long journey. But most astonishingly, some of the crystals seemed to show parts of Ghelspad as they were now.

Through one crystal, they saw a plateau in the mountains, another one showed what appeared to be a scorched looking hill, and there was the ocean side and a forest as well. Through one, however, they saw a market place on which healthy and industrous people where just closing up their stalls. Even though the friends couldn’t hear the voices, since the crystals only seemed to transport pictures and no sounds, they soon realized from the fashion and the architecture of the buildings, that they were looking at the marketplace of Lave.

„Interesting“, Trepat said. „Probably the other crystals were showing other places of Ghelspad as well, but ever since the era of the ancients, time and the titanswar had probably changed the face of the country so much that places which had been once on the surface are now covered by earth, oceans or even lava...“.

„That sounds about right“, Niklas said who was just looking through the final „active“ crystal. This one seemed to show what looked like a mountain pass, and just as the monk started to continue talking, two figures walked into the visible picture. They were both soldiers, and on their shields, they bore the dragon of the Calastian empire. „Wow!“, he shouted out: „this one is even showing some part of Calastia!“.

His friends walked up in order to take a good look as well, and Niklas said, half to himself:“ I wonder if those crystals are maybe more than just scrying devices... Maybe they are portals as well...“.

„It could be“, Trepat said:“ That would definetly have been a nice and fast way of moving around in the land... But I would like to look around a little more before we try that“.

Niklas nodded:“ Sure.“. 

Apart from the exit through which they had come, there were two more, one leading west and the other south. The friends decided to take the southern one, and again they crossed deserted caves of giant proportions. One was entirely empty, except for the moonlight which was seemingly coming from nowwhere and everywhere at once, and the other cave was full of spires, arches and towers which were making eerie noises in the winds which were constantly blowing in this one.

By now, they were certain, that they wouldn’t find any sign of life in the caves, but then, even though they were still within the caves, they were in a dense forest. There was solid rock above them, yet the entire cave was flooded in sunlight, and they walked on moss and grass. In the trees, there were squirrels scurrying around and they heard the tock-tock-tock of woodchippers and the singing of more musical birds.

Surprised by the abundance of life around them, the friends walked into the forest. Trepat saw signs of all kinds of animals, even wolves, and they soon found that the forest looked stronger and healthier than many they had seen on the surface. There was definetly no sign of the scars of the divine war here.

Just as they were about to relax, they heard a deep voice from behind and above them, speaking to them in a strange language, which only Ben understood: „ Hurr-humm, welcome, orcs!“

They turned around, and there was a walking and talking tree, or rather, a tree-ent, as Ben would correct them later. He was surprised. Not only did the ent use the secret language of the druids, but he also adressed them as orcs. But then he realized, that since they had all joined in the ritual of association after having helped the Gravelfist Orcs, they were technically orcs, as well!

„Greetings, keeper of the forest“, he said, bowing respectfully. „I hope you don’t mind orcs passing peacefully through your ward“.

„No, not at all“; the ent answered, speaking slow enough to give Ben the chance to translate for his friends. But then he said something which made Ben too surprised to continue right away.

„What did he say?“, Torn prodded.

„He said,“ Ben said, swallowing down his surprise,“ that it was good that we were orcs, since he would have had to kill us if we weren’t!“.


----------



## Nightfall

Nice! Still can't wait though to see how they handle the challenge of the Serpent Amphora.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Secrets- part 6 of 6*

Like his friends, Torn was stunned: „ Does that mean that Orcs built the Halls of Dunai?“

Ben translated and the Ent answered:“ I don’t know who had built these halls. All I know is that long, long ago one of my ancestors had gotten this forest as his sphere of protection. He had passed it on to the next of his kind, who passed it on, and so on. Those who had built this hall, enabling it to host a forest, only had one order, which had been passed on as well. And that is that only Orcs shall pass through this wood.“.

„And what is your name?“, Ben asked.

„A name? Oh, since I am the only one of my kind here, I am afraid I don’t have one. You see, the oak that came before me had planted me when he knew that his time would soon be over. Then, when I was a young sapling, he told me of my orders and taught me this language, and then he died. So, since I am the only one of my kind here, and I will be until I know that my time has come, I have no name. But you may call me Ent, if you like.“.

Ben bowed and introduced himself and his friends: „And have you ever encountered any intruders except for us?“.

„No, my friend Ben, I haven’t. But one of my ancestors once had to deal with lizardpeople“, the tree answered with his slow and deeply resonating voice.

After Ben had translated, Niklas said:“ Asaathi. Of course! The document with the information about the three entrances had been written in an Asaathi dialect, after all. They must have tried getting in here at least once!“

Ben nodded and switched back to the druidic tongue, adressing Ent again: „Those lizardpeople, did they get past your ancestor?“

Ent made the sound of small, dry branches snapping. Apparently, he was laughing: „No, of course not. My ancestor, like me, had been a master of the forest. And when he sensed the intruders, the whole forest stood up and fought the strangers until all of them had been defeated or dead. I could not possibly think of any way to defeat an entire forest...“

„Well, there is always fire“, Trepat said after Ben had translated again. „Ask him whether he had ever been to any other part of the caves.“

„You ask whether I have ever left my forest?“, Ent said in answer of the translation: „No, certainly not. The reason of my existence is protecting this forest, and I wouldn’t want it to be endangered while I am away. Of course, there are hardly any visitors, you being the first after millenia, but nonetheless I wouldn’t want to take the chance.“

„Besides,“ he added after a short while in which he had hummed to himself: „ I really wouldn’t want to leave my forest. After all, I am a part of all this, and I can’t imagine that I could feel happy and content anywhere else.“.

Seeing that none of his friends had any further questions for the time being, he promised Ent that they would return soon and then walked on with his friends.

All of them were by now utterly confused by what they had seen. Apparently, there was none of the ancients left. Not even a picture or a statue that would let them guess what they had looked like. Yet, for some strange reason, they had made sure that orcs would be able to enter these caves. And not only that- the entrance through which they had come, the burning head, had even looked like the open jaw of an orc...

They reached yet another cave which looked pretty much like the one through which they had come. Like the first one, it was natural and in it’s middle there was a pedestal with the same runes as the ones on the first pedestal. The only difference was that there was no open exit, but a pool of water opposite of the tunnel through which they had come.

They walked to the water, and Ben made a cup with his hands and tasted some of the water: „It’s sweetwater... But definetly muddy.“.

„Odd“, Trepat said:“ I don’t think that there is a lake supposed to be on Cyri...“.

„I should go take a look then“, Ben said and jumped into the water, transforming into the shape of the shark he had been many incarnations ago.

The pool widened, and as he turned around in the water to get a look, he saw that from here, the pool looked like an entrance, and it was formed like the open mouth of a lifeless orc. „The drowning head“, he thought and turned around again.

The water was full of reeds and mud, feeling like a slow river or a pond. He dove up and after about five yards, he peaked through the surface into the moonlit night. Looking around, he guessed that he was probably the first shark to show up here: he was indeed in a swamp by a river, and beyond the banks he could see the wall and lights of a town which was merely two hundred feet away from him.

Ben moved to the shore and turned into a halfling again. Looking around, he saw that he seemed to be right next to a dig site, which had been left for the night. But now that he took a second look, he recognized the site. He had been here before, and not too long ago, as a matter of fact: He was right in the morass near Mullis Town!

Within a day, he and his friends had traveled over threehundred miles! And all that by crossing the halls of Dunai. All in all, with all tunnels, they had maybe walked ten miles at the most, and yet now they were here, right next to Mullis Town. 

His stray thought regarding the drowning head returned to him- if they could cover those hundreds of miles so easily, they should be able to reach the „howling head“ in the Kelders on the same way as well.

As he stood there contemplating, he suddenly noticed that his teeth were chattering on their own volition. He was wet, after all, and it was a night in autumn- he was lucky the water wasn’t freezing over.

Ben pressed his mouth shut and jumped back into the water, diving back to the head, which had the form of an overhanging cliff and which could only be entered from below. He had completely forgotten just how badly adjusted his halfling body was for living underwater, but he surpressed the urge to turn into a shark again, knowing that there was something he had to do.

And indeed, as he wanted to enter the „mouth“, diving up to the friendly light of his friends lanterens, he felt an invisible forcefield holding him back. „The drowned head shall aid the one who brings it the breath of life“, he thought to himself, and then, even though everything in him screamed at him not to do it, he exhaled, losing the last bit of precious air in a bubble which floated upwards in the mouth to the surface.

Fighting down the rise of panic, Ben transformed into a shark again, thankfully filling his „lungs“ with water. This way, he swam up the last few feet to his friends. He crawled out of the water in his halfling form again and said: „You won’t believe where we are right now!.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Plans- part 1*

They found Donnangar in the backroom of the „Drinking Hog“, seeing that among other things, they shared their taste in inns with the orcleader, since it was their favorite place to stay in Mullis Town as well.

The burly chieftain was happy to see them- not only had it been a while since he had last seen his subjects of honor, but it also offered him a chance to break away from tedious paperwork. He had come to Mullis Town in order to barter for the excess of the first harvest with the local merchants, and now he had to figure out his gains and make sure that noone would take advantage of him as well. Even though he was a learned orc, certainly smarter than most of the merchants he had to deal with, his life in the plains had taught him more about the lay of the land and the history of his people than of numbers.

He pushed away the papers, telling his overworked officers to calculate the numbers once again, and then took the group of heroes with him to another table, ordering food and ale for dinner.

„And“, he said eventually between two bites, „what has brought you here?“

„Well, it all started when we went to the market here in Mullis Town, about two months ago.“, Ben started: „We had just gotten back from Vesh, planning to visit your new camp at the shores of the Bloodbasin“, he continued, and then he and his friends took turns telling him everything that had happened ever since they had battled against the necromancer. During their dinner, they told him about their journey to Mithril, the meeting with Kwalish, the many traps on the way to the keeper and, finally, about the halls of Dunai himself.

Donnangar grew more and more agitated as they told him about the orcish runes, and the way the entrances resembled the mouths of orcs as well. His wheathered and scared face was completely filled with wonder by the time they related to him how the ent had told them that only Orcs were allowed to pass.

When they were done with dinner and the waitress had just brought them fresh ale, Donnangar asked: „ So, what happened after Ben had returned from his short swim in the morass?“

„Well,“ Ben said, „we decided to rest right there. After all, there was still a third way leading away in the central chamber. We were sure that it would lead to the howling head in the Kelder mountains, and so we thought that we would take a complete look around first before we returned to the scholars. Also, there was still nothing we could bring them. And as we had learned, we couldn’t take the scholars either.“.

Niklas took over: „Even though we could try taking them to the entrance at the island of Cyri, we figured that probably the predator statues in that one hall would come alive and devour them, or something to that effect. Anyway, on the next morning, we went back to the central chamber and went into that other tunnel. First, there was a huge building...“

Trepat interrupted the monk: „No, you’re wrong. First we got into a huge hall that was totally dark. Not even Torn’s or my eyes were able to penetrate it, and the same was true for our torches and lamps. Having dealt with magical darkness before, we used a rope to bind us together, and then we ventured through the hall and through a tunnel to the next hall. And _that_ is where we saw the giant building.“.

Now that the elf was finished, Niklas continued: „ As you can imagine, everything we had seen so far had been pretty amazing, and this hall was no different. Again, it was several hundred yards across, and almost filled by one single, large building. It was almost as spacious as the entire cave and several stories high. There were countless entrances and windows, and yet when we went in there, it was clean, and as good as new, but entirely empty.“.

„And what did it’s architecture look like? Did it in any way resemble the ruins of Hor’ Kung?“, Donnangar asked.

„No“, Torn said, before the monk could start again. „If it reminded me of anything, it was modern Veshian architecture. Light but efficient, you know?“

He emptied his ale and after a silence, in which the barmaid refilled their tankards, he said: „We took a quick look into one of the entrances, but after passing through a few doors, we returned. That thing looked like a giant labyrinth.“ He paused shortly, and then added, looking at Niklas: „And this labyrinth had walls, to boot!“.

After his friends had finished chuckling at this little private joke, which referred to how the monk had thought that the empty dark room in Marilvaz’ tomb had been a „labyrinth without walls“, he went on: „So, we turned around, went to the next hall, and I am telling you, this one beats ’em all.

„The hall was lit- like the one where we met the keeper of the trees. And in a way, there was a forest as well, but this one, you know, this one was different.“

Torn seemed to be lacking the words right now, and Donnangar asked: „In what way?“

Ben took over: „Well, it was made entirely made of crystal and gems, just to mention one thing. If you can imagine it- the „grass“ was made of green crystals and there were cherries made of rubys hanging from the trees. Everything in there was a little translucent, so wherever we looked, we saw the colors of the rainbow.

„It was beautiful. Everything looked natural, and right away we all had the feeling that indeed this crystalforest was „alive“ and not merely created. It’s beauty was too wild, too free to have been made by mere beings, no matter how highly their civilization had ascended. So, none of us touched anything or tried to take anything, as was for the best, as we were to find out soon enough“.

Jan, who had been eager to add his own version for quite a while now, continued: „Yes, because just like there had been a guardian in the forest of wood, there was one in the forest of gems as well. And this one was a dragon!

„It was as big as a house, and like everything else in that cave, it was made entirely of crystal, and it was even kinda transparent. However, I saw no organs, or anything else I would expect to see if I could look into a living being, like organs or bones or...“

Trepat rolled his eyes and before Jan could list all the things he would expect to see if he had the ability to look into living beings, he said: „Anyway, the moment we laid eyes on him, he turned his crystal eyes towards us and I felt a fear which was stronger than anything else I had ever felt. I was frozen with panic and even though everything in me screamed at me to run as far away from this, this thing, I couldn’t. I was vaguely aware that all my companions were likewise paralyzed, but I didn’t care, because I felt the certainty that my end was near. And then the beast spoke.“, the elf ended, adding an artful pause in order to excite his rapt one man audience even further.

However, the pause didn’t last for long, because before Donnangar could ask what it was that the dragon had said, Jan was already imitating the deep and yet airy voice of the dragon that reminded of the wind amidst the spires of the Kelders: „„_Why have you come here?_“, the dragon said, only that he didn’t so much say it but that his voice was in our heads.“.


----------



## Nightfall

Gem dragons, you know I love em.


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## Talix

Sounds exciting!  I like the Orcs Only angle.


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## Lars Frehse

Glad you guys like it! 
This week I got around to write some updates already, but unfortunately the board was down yesterday. So, when I am back from work tonight, I will post another update. I am still three sessions behind my current game, but I hope that I will be able to catch up.


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## Nightfall

Can't wait to see the updates then Lars. (Btw are you going to use the last part of the cycle or not?  )


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## Lars Frehse

Actually, we are already right in the middle of the final part of the trilogy. 

And here comes the next update:


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## Lars Frehse

*Plans- part 2*

Niklas remembered vividly how the fear had left him just enough for him to speak through clenched teeth:" Curiosity brought us here!"

The dragon had nodded with it's gigantic head, and suddenly, the supernatural fear was gone, replaced by the natural awe and respect that a being like the ancient crystal dragon inspired in them.

"You must excuse me", the dragon had said by transporting his voice into the heads of the adventurers. "But I am one of the guardians of the halls of Dunai and I have to make sure that only those enter here, who are welcome and who know how to behave themselves properly.". 

When the monk told Donnangar about that a few days later, seeing how his friends were getting more and more lightheaded from the ale, Donnangar asked:" And what is proper behaviour, according to the dragon?".

"When we asked him, he told us that we shouldn't take anything with us. Neither should we damage anything.", Niklas said.

"Anyway", Torn interrupted, his tongue getting heavy," again we made it because we were orcs. From what Trycs, that's how the dragon called himself,  said, he had been in this cave even when the ancients were still around! Unfortunately, he told us that whatever had wiped out the ancients had wiped out his memory of that race as well. It is as if whatever had destroyed them had also destroyed all memories of them as well, leaving behind only their monuments..."

By now, Donnangar had ordered the waitress to leave them a keg of ale at the table and leave them alone. He refilled the tankards and announced:" What a shame. I would love to find out what their connection with my race had been... And who knows whether whatever had destroyed them may still turn out to be a danger for us as well... But please, don't let me interrupt you. Do continue.".

Trepat took over: "Even though that had been disappointing, the dragon turned out to be quite a source for fascinating information. He told us about a kind of power that closely resembles magic. He called it Psionics, and he said that the ancients, and much later the Slarecians, had been masters of that supernatural art. Then, when the slarecians had been defeated, psionics had been gone from the world, as well, and Trycs was the only one left who mastered that strange art."

"But that is not the end of it", Niklas said, getting excited now. "Apparently, Trycs sensed how psionics seemed to be returning all over Ghelspad for the last few decades, and we soon found out how as well. He offered us to check whether anyone of us had the talent to master the arts of PSI. Naturally, we accepted. 

"Nothing seemed to be happening, as the dragon probed our minds. Then, suddenly, I felt something give away in my head. It felt as if there had been a knot somewhere in my mind, and suddenly, the knot snapped and straightened out, if that makes any sense. So, I turned to my friends to ask them whether they had felt it as well..."

Jan slammed his tankard to the table:" But all that came out was argle-bargle that made no sense whatsoever.".

Niklas nodded:" That's right. For some reason, I wasn't able to speak properly anymore. Try as I might, all I said came out as meaningless and maddening nonsense.".

"What was worse was that his rambling was affecting us in a strange way as well", Trepat said, passing on the opportunity to comment on Niklas's last remark:" Personally, I only felt a short splitting headache, but Torn started babbling in those strange tongues as well!".

Ben said:" The dragon explained to us that he had accidentally triggered some kind of psionic disease that had been dormant within Niklas for quite some while. I cured them, enabling them to speak  normally again, and after talking to the dragon for a while, we figured out that he had probably infected himself when we had contact with slarecian shadows and artifacts in the past. The disease must have survived the defeat of the slarecians and the titanswar this way.

" Trycs explained that there was a sideeffect to the disease. With a little guidance and dedication, Torn and Ben would now be able to develop their own psionic abilities, becoming psionicists themselves. That would also explain why the dragon sensed new psionicists in the lands as well. There must have been others who had gotten infected and have developed their abilities."

"And what do you guys plan to do with that new potential now?", Donnangar asked.

Torn said: "We will both probably return to the dragon at some point so that he can teach us how to use those newfound powers. So far, nothing has manifested- that is, I can't suddenly read minds or move objects by sheer force of will alone. And neither can Niklas, unless he is keeping it from us, that is.".

"And that is almost it", Trepat explained, "After that, we found the howling head in the kelders. Ben left through that exit, standing on a plateau in the northern mountains. This time it took us a little while to figure out how to pass it, until I carved him a hollow branch that would make a whistling sound in the wind. Once the wind had made some music on it, Ben was able to come back inside. After all:“ The howling head shall aid the one who brings the song of the winds and turns it's pain to joy.“.“

"We returned to the drowned head then, surprising the scholars who were working at the dig in the morass. We went to Silian, who gave us some devices which will help Torn when examining and disabling magical traps as a reward, but when we asked for the meaning of the runes, he couldn't help us. But he told us that you were in town, so here we are!".

Even though Donnangar, like his  friends, was pretty drunk, he was nonetheless eager to take a look at the runes. So Niklas pulled out the parchment on which they had copied the mosaic they had found in the three entrance halls.

Donnangar straightened out the parchment, and after focusing for a little while, he explained:" Those are ancient runes, but I am familiar with them. They even predate the orcish culture we found at Hor' Kung! But, anyway: I think that this is some sort of a map to the Halls of Dunai. You see here, this tile means "lightning" and it is roughly where you would have entered the hall with the lightning towers. Here, where you met the ent, there is the symbol for wood. The same here, you see- this is where you met the crytal dragon, and the symbol means "gems".

"The symbol in the middle, where you had seen those scrying-crystals, or whatever that was, means "Nexus". You know, I would love to take a look at that myself. So if you don't mind, I would like to go in there with you.", Donnangar said and after folding the parchment and handing it back to Niklas, he raised his tankard much too fast, spilling ale over the table and onto Jan's lap:" But now, let's celebrate our reunion!".


----------



## Nightfall

Well nice to see some of the group gaining new powers. Hope they can find a use for them against the rising powers in the Hornsaw.


----------



## Red Baron

Still checking in occasionally and still enjoying your story, Lars. Kudoes.

Game on!


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## Lars Frehse

Thanks for the encouragement, guys!


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Plans- part 3*

On the next morning, everyone but Niklas was badly hung over. They had celebrated with Donnangar throughout the night, rejoicing that in spite of all adversity they were still alive and well. Torn vaguely remembered that at some point, they all walked through the alleys of Mullis Town, supporting each other by leaning on each others shoulders, arms slung around their neighbors. Chamberpots were thrown after them as they chanted orcish songs and battlehymns.

Now they had to pay for it, and it took them well until noon until they had returned to the digsite and entered the Halls of Dunai through the underwater entrance. They lead Donnanangar through the halls, and the warchief told them that he was certain that orcs weren't the creators of these halls. After all, everything was way too orderly for orcs- no matter how advanced his people may have once been, they should still have felt the rage of Khadum in them, and even though that made them a fierce and independent people, they would never construct something that was so orderly.

However, like his friends, he had no idea why Orcs were allowed access to those halls and why orcish runes had been applied here. Maybe the orcs of those days had been allies of the slaves. "Or maybe worse: Slaves", Donnangar said. "That could explain why I can read the runes. Maybe when the ancients had been defeated, their former slaves picked up elements of the culture of their former masters- like the written language.".

Torn nodded:" Or maybe the ancients had worked some magic or psionics on our ancestors. Maybe they have prepared the race to become like them at some point in the far future, when the danger of their opponent would be gone..."

"There is nothing we can do but speculate right now, though", Trepat said, "As long as we find no further evidence of what had happened here long ago... However, whatever this "sunkiller" had been, it must have been incredibly powerful to destroy a people that could build something like these halls...".

Eventually, they reached the central hall. Looking around, Donnangar found more orcish runes beneath each of the scrying mirrors.

"That is fascinating", he said "you see, here this one, in the pass where you had seen the Calastians, is the old orcish name for the irontooth pass. Likewise, this mirror, that shows the shore of the bloodsea, seems to point to a former rockformation which had been destroyed in the titanswar. Oh, and this one, showing a hill in the plains, is the scorched rock... Maybe the most significant point for us orcs in the plains of Lede."

"How so?", Jan asked.

"There is a prophecy, that says "The ruler of the scorched rock shall rule supreme.". Right now, the Scorchskulls are ruling over the rock. This gives them great prestige, and because of that, many of the smaller clans swear allegiance to the Scorchskull. However, if we would be able to take it for us, I am certain that many of those clans would fall from the Scorchskulls and join us..."

"And do you think that you could take it?", Niklas asked.

"I am not sure... We are outnumbered by the Scorchskulls. For each of our warrior, there are two of them. If we would mobilize all those who have sworn loyalty to us, I should be able to gather about tenthousand warriors. The Scorchskulls are about twice as many... It would depend on us getting to the rock quickly. I think that once we would be on top of it, we could win the battle. After all, most of it is pretty steep, and there are only a few ways to get up there."

Donnangar fell silent, brooding:"I would like to try whether this crystal is a portal as well. What do you think?".

Trepat, Niklas and Torn were eager to join Donnangar, but Ben and Jan decided to return to Cyri. After all, someone had to inform Captain Strohmann that he could return to Mithril, and furthermore they both still had their mouns in Mithril.

So, they decided to meet at the Gravelfists' wintercamp and the four of them stepped through the crystal, which indeed turned out to be a portal to the Scorched Rock.

Immediately after touching the mirrors, they were transported to the middle of the oval shaped hill. The scorched rock consisted of dark stone that was almost barren of plantlife, except for some hardy shrubs and mosses. It rose about thirty yards over the flat plains, and was a few hundred yards across. From where they looked now, the adventurers saw nothing but the endless horizon- the plains were so flat here that they were able to see as far as if they were on the high sea, and only the deephanging and dark autumnclouds prohibited them from scanning the entire plains.

After searching the horizon for possible threats, like patrolling platoons of Scorchskull orcs, and seeing that they were the only souls within a radius of several miles, they looked around on the rock. In it's middle, there was a circular hole that was about twenty feet across. About ten feet down, there was water, and Donnangar told them after casting a spell, that it was clearly potable.

Mostly, the rock was very steep, and there were only four paths that allowed easy access to the level plateau of the rock's surface. After looking around, Torn adressed Donnangar:" You are right. The rock could indeed be held against a stronger foe... All that would be needed would be little walls here at the entrance of each path, and it might just work.".

"You are right", Donnangar answered, "we should talk about that with my advisors once we had reached our camp. But I think we should get going- we don't want the Scorched Skulls to know that we took a look around here...".

And with that, they went down the western path, leaving the rock behind. As they turned around about a mile away, it hit them for the first time just how out of place the scorched rock looked. Everywhere were monotonous steppes, and the biggest things jutting out of them were occasional weak looking trees. The rock looked like it didn't belong in a strange way- as if it had fallen from heaven and came to rest in this enviroment.

Donnangar lead them westwards with a hurried pace, and the friends were soon glad that they had left the slower Jan and Ben behind- without their steeds it would have been nearly impossible to keep up with them. The night was rough and cold. The earth had already begun to freeze and some snow fell down on them, covering everything with a white blanket.

On the next morning the wind picked up, and like a gigantic broom, it blew together the snow, making some patches snowfree and heaping up small hills at other places. Soon, the cold wind had penetrated their clothes and the only way for the friends to keep reasonably warm was to keep up their high pace.

But that wasn't the worst of it. Where the snow was freezing over, their tracks were similarily frozen, making them easily detectable by any scout. And so, in the afternoon, when they had almost left the territory of the scorchskulls behind, they finally noticed that they were being followed. Their, behind them, ten orcs were running towards them, their breath like steam in front of their faces and their battleaxes ready.

Seeing that there was no chance that the friends could outrun the orcs, they turned around and got ready for the battle.


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## Lars Frehse

*Plans- part 4*

The tribesmen, used to life on the plains, came running towards them at an even and seemingly tireless pace, like a pack of wolves chasing it's prey. Before they had reached them, however, Trepat had already thrown an acid arrow and a lightning bolt at them, dropping down one of the barbarians.

 A moment later, the Scorchskulls, who were all clad in furs which hung over chainshirts, had reached them. Donnangar fought like three men and Niklas and Torn warded off the others while Trepat supported from the rear with spells. Their opponents were all raging with battlefrenzy, swinging their axes with brute force as they were fueled by the fire of Khadum that was burning in their veins.

Even though the heroes were outnumbered they stood their ground. While the Scorchskulls were superior to them when it came to sheer strength and brute force, they had better discipline and equipment on their side, and eventually, they overcame the opposition, the dead bodies and the gore spread out over the dirty melting snow.

In the evening, they passed several mounds made of scorched humanoid skulls- marking the border of the Scorchskull territory, and late at night, they reached the camp. It stood at the shores of the Blood Basin, about fifty miles from Mansk, and it was basically a small ramshackle town which was surrounded by wooded palisades and overlooking the now harvested fields.

It was here that the orcs had planted and harvested the special seed that the heroes and Donnangar had brought The harvest had been a great success, and there had been plenty of surplus which the orcs had sold to Mullis Town and Mansk. The houses in their town were mostly made with heavy logs and the roofs were covered with reeds. They usually consisted of one big room in which both the orcs and their animals would sleep- often only seperated by curtains which were hanging from the roof and there were no windows.

When the friends arrived, they were waved right through by the guards at the gate, and they walked over the packed dirt that made up the grounds, past puddles of mud and sleeping pigs. Donnangar's own house was just a little larger than the rest, and except for that, it was the same cruel affair as every other house. When they entered it, they were enthusiastically greeted by Plainsrunner, Donnangar's dire wolf.

The roughly horsesized wolf immediately pounced on his master, and resting his forepaws on the chieftain's shoulders, he licked his face. After Donnangar had rolled around on the floor  with his animal for a while, they all entered the house.

It's inside was more refined than the other houses. For once, there were seperate rooms and rugs made from animal hides covered the floor. The first room was dominated by a large table, but Donnangar lead them on through the house to a small shed in it's back. In there, he had a large wooden tub, and after he had heated the water, they all took a bath, feeling how the cold was driven out of their bones.

That night, they slept long and well.

They settled down for the winter and helped them negotiate for needed goods and weapons with the traders of Mansk. Two weeks later Ben and Jan arrived, and together they started planning an offensive in the spring. 

Then, one day one of the officers challenged Donnangar for leadership. Many members of the tribe were unhappy- to them farming was something that had to be done by those who they raided and not by them. And even though Trepat, Torn, Jan, Ben and Niklas had gone through the rite of associatons, many were sore about there mere presence. To them, you had to be born an orc or an enemy- there was nothing inbetween.

As Donnangar entered the circle in the middle of the camp, the adventurers knew that he was not only fighting for his life or his leadership, but for their lives as well. All orcs of the camp, young and old alike, had gathered to watch the fight, and those who didn't find a place on the place had climbed onto the snowcovered roofs around.

The challenger was a huge orc. He was almost seven feet tall and as broad as a bear. It looked bad as he towered over Donnangar, clad in a black breastplate and his hands clamped around his doubleaxe. The battle would be to the death, or until one of the contestants would admit defeat, in which case he would be exiled. But, as Gortak had explained to the friends, that almost never happened.

The fight itself went over surprisingly quick. Neither the challenger nor Donnangar wasted any time apprasing their opponent and whereas the challenger was the stronger of the two, the chieftain was more agile and quicker. For each time he had to block an attack of the doubleaxe, he was able to swing his falchion twice. After less than a minute, Donnangar, who was already bleeding and bruised himself, slashed the shaft of the doubleaxe, breaking the axe. The challenger fell backwards, and just as Trepat noticed that he was about to beg for mercy, Donnangar's falchion came down on him, neatly cutting of the head.

After that, Donnangar's position was as strong as ever before again, and he promoted all of the heroes to officers for the upcoming military campaign. In private, he admitted to them that he had noticed that the challenger was about to give up. But Donnangar couldn't risk a powerful barbarian like that to switch sides, and maybe even join the Scorchskulls, and so he decided to kill him right then and there, even though he was surely not proud of it.

With the portal in the halls of Dunai, an advance troop could secure the Scorched Rock while the main force would march overland. If the advancetroop would get merely three days, they should be able to fortify all four paths that lead up to the plateau of the rock. Eventually, by the time snow covered all of the plains and the bloodbasin was frozen over, they decided that they would indeed go ahead and invade the scorchskull's land by the time of the spring thaw. This way, they should be able to cross the plains when they were still hard and frozen, but any opponent would have to deal with the muddy spring ground when the Gravelfists would be on thehard surface of the Scorched Rock.

Of course there were many unpredictable factors, but Donnangar was willing to risk it. After all, if his and Gortak's vision of a unified nation of orcs were to be become reality, they would have to risk it all. Like his friends, he knew that in a few months they would all be victorious heroes or rotting corpses.


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## Talix

Thinking on a larger scale now, are they?  

Interesting way to introduce psionics into your campaign - did the characters agree beforehand, I'm assuming?  Will Niklas give up the way of the Monk forever, or are you going to allow him to multi-class back and forth?


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## Lars Frehse

When I introduced Psionics to the players, I basically told them that they can now pick up psionic classes, but that they don't have to. The dragon simply discovered a potential.

Back when the characters fought against the slarecian shadow under Mithril, I secretly made saving throws for them. Niklas was hit by the thing and failed his saving throw and got the language virus then. However, I decide to make it dormant, for I wanted to wait a little longer until I introduce pisonics. (After all, I intend to let that discovery have quite an impact on the campaign. In a way, it constitutes a piece of the puzzle of the slarecian legacy).

So, when the dragon probed the characters, he uncovered the potential, triggering the language virus. Then Torn failed his saving throw, getting infected and gaining psychic potential. (However, if one of the other characters will mention that they are very keen on getting psionic abilities, I will let them have that as well, of course).

Niklas will be able to freely multiclass. I think the restriction for the monk is a little bit silly, anyway. It is not as if the class would be too powerful and has to be curbed in because of it. Incidentally, at the point where we are now, Niklas has already picked his first level of psychic warrior, making him Monk lvl 7/ Psychic Warrior lvl 1. And that is quite a neat combination.


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## Lars Frehse

*Battle of Scorched Rock, part 1*

In the late morning of the second of Tanot in 152 AV, the Gravelfists crossed the border, entering Scorchskull territory.

About tenthousand pairs of hooves and boots trampled down the newly fallen snow and the breath of the warriors and their mounts formed small clouds in the cold air. Most of the orcs were on their feet, but there was cavalry as well- about half of them on horseback and half on the backs of dire wolves. The sky was blue and there was no cloud to be seen. The wardrums were beating a steady rhythm as the juggernaught made of thousands was slowly marching ahead.

Wherever they found the pyramids of skulls which marked the border, they tumbled them down, sometimes fooling around and playing football with the skulls. There was a feeling of expectation and excitement throughout the ranks. No matter how young or old, novice or experienced, man or woman, everyone was held together by an invisible bond and they all shared the same lightheaded feeling of what the orcs called "Shoor-Tak", best translated as "joyous excitation before the fight". Jan, Niklas, Trepat and Torn, who were all leading units of fivehundred warriors each couldn't help but share the feeling as well, and their connection with the tribes of which they were honorary members had never been stronger.

The storms of the late winter had gone and were now substituted by constant fresh winds, which kept the banners flying in the air making it look as if even the lifeless equipment was sharing the optimism of their carriers.

Around noon, two of the scouts came riding back towards the main army at full speed.They had seen a large Scorchskullarmy to the north, which they would encounter in an hour. Immediately the word spread among the warriors, and soon there was no holding back. As the orcs were seeing that their first battle was merely and hour away, they moved at ever greater speed, changing their direction to where they expected the enemy to be.

And then, as they saw the first tips of the Scorchskull banners on the plain ahead, the mass of warrior turned into a tidal wave as they all rushed ahead at their enemies, tearing their non-orcish friends with them. Now, that they had been fully taken by Shoor Tak there was nothing that could possibly stop them and they had turned into a force of nature.

The ground trembled as the two armies thundered towards each other, the sound of thousands of hooves and boots almost drowning the battle shouts and wardrums. From what the friends could see, the scorchskull army was significantly smaller than their own force- maybe half the size. Still, there was no indication that the scorchskulls would act with special consideration because of that disadvantage. If they had noticed that at all, it merely seemed to spur them on to be even wilder and more savage than normal, if that was possible at all.

Meanwhile, about sixty miles to the east, Ben was supervising the construction of the fortification of the four paths that lead up to the flat surface of Scorched Rock. At each of the points where the path reached the plateau, they were building up brick walls which they were reinforcing with heavy beams. Behind those, they were assembling small trebuchets which would be used to fire several fistsized rocks in the case of an attack.

At that point, Ben and his fivehundred pioneers had been working straight for three days, sleeping in shifts. Near Mullis Town, he had influenced the scholars to do him a favor by faking an emergency at the dig site, sealing of the entire area. Then they had constructed a make shift tunnel through the morass to the drowned head and taken bricks, mortar, beams and everything else they needed down there.

Next, Ben lead the awestruck orcs through the halls of Dunai, right to the central chamber, where they stepped through the proper crystal and began their work.

Now, as he watched the orcs put the last finishing touches to their improvised fortifications, while  the main force which he expected to arrive in two days fought the first battle of their war against the Gravelfists, he was approached by one of the scouts.

The orc was about as old as Torn and even broader than the halforc. As he made his report, Ben remembered his name: Tak' Rath:" Sir, there is a small troop of maybe four hundred gravelfists marching towards our position. They are marching ahead at a rather leisurely pace, so I suppose there is no indication that they know we are here."

"Very well", Ben replied, being fluent in orcish by now:" Then we should have a little surprise for them, once they are here!".

In the afternoon, the Scorchskulls arrived. H'Treck, the chief of a small tribe that paid tribute to the Scorchskull clan, had been sent there with his men in order to build up a defense while another army would delay the Gravelfists. In a way, H'Treck was glad for this assignment, even though he wouldn't admit it, because his reasoning was highly dishonorable for an orc. 

He was already old and weary, and the way he saw it, the assignment to guard the rock would keep him away from all major battles, giving him the chance to spend the last bit of his life in peace and quiet. H'Treck knew that if any of his men would find out about his dreams of peace he would be slain right away. His attitude would be considered cowardly by most orcs, but for the Scorchskulls it was more- it was a sign of godstaint, as they called it.

As the sun was setting, he lead his men up one of the paths, thinking of building a camp around the waterhole up there. He never quite finished contemplating the layout of that camp, though, for suddenly arrows and fire rained down on him and his men. H'Treck was among those hit by the first volley, and pierced by several arrows, he died right away, never knowing what had hit him.

In the end, in spite of his contrary nature, he had died as was proper for a Scorchskull.


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## Corwyn

Now we can't have this exelent story dangling down here, so let's prod it onwards!!


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## Lars Frehse

Thanks! 
Anyway, I had been pretty busy lately, however I will be able to post some updates this week, starting with tomorrow.


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## Talix

Cool, I like the occasional alternate perspective, like H'Treck.


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## Lars Frehse

*Battle of Scorched Rock- part 2*

Those Scorchskulls who weren't killed right away tried to save themselves by running away. After all, half of the soldiers and their chieftain were dead before they even knew what was going on. As far as they were concerned, it was impossible that any enemies could have gotten to the scorched Rock. After all, there were scouts all along the border, and they would have had to be invisible to get there in the first place.

Nothing had prepared them for the slaughter they were now experiencing. There wasn't even a real chance of fighting back, since their opponents were killing them from fortified positions above. So, they ran, carrying their wounded among them.

Ben and his pioneers cheered as they shot a few last arrows after their fleeing enemies. Their first battle had been a full success and they hadn't even lost one orc. When the enemies were gone, Ben's orcs looted the dead that had been left behind and seeing that there was little chance that more enemies would come this night, they celebrated well into the night, using the beer that they had brought through the portal as well.

Two days later, they saw the main force of the Gravelfists approaching from the west. Niklas, who had scouted ahead, was the first to arrive on the rock, and immediately he told the incarnate about the battle he had witnessed himself.

The orcs had attacked their enemies with the unstoppable force of a tidal wave, and for two hours, he and everyone else wasn't able to judge just how the battle was working out. Like all other officers, Niklas had fought alongside the men in the front row, and there was no tactic or planning. The only rule was that whenever you saw an enemy, you attacked him.

Eventually, though, there were less and less enemies to attack, and the only ones left standing were Gravelfist orcs. When the battle had died down and the sun was setting, they roughly estimated that they had lost about a thousand orcs and another thousand were severely wounded and would need at least a few days to recover.

For the Scorchskulls, however, the battle had been a disaster. Most of the five thousand warriors who had attacked were dead. Those who were wounded were killed as well, for even though the Gravelfists had reached some civilization, they were still orcs, and just like they would never expect mercy from an enemy, they would never think of giving any either. They considered mercy to be a sign of weakness and for them, taking prisoners was just wrong and against nature.

Once they had climbed onto the rock, the army settled down. Even though the plateau of the scorched rock was big enough for a town to be built there, it was still crowded when the nine thousand remaining Gravelfist-orcs settled down there. Fortunately, the waterhole in the middle seemed to offer an unlimited supply of water and their food would last them for several weeks as well.

After sunset, Jan was approached by one young orc who had been close to him ever since he had settled down in the camp. His name was Chirra, and to the paladin's surprise, he seemed to be genuinely interested in Corean. "Sir", he said breathlessly, "I and some other of the orcs had seen strange lights in the waterhole."

"What lights?" Jan asked in common, since he was the only one of the friends for whom the orcish tongue appeared to be unpronounceable.

Chirra spread his arms, indicating his own puzzlement:" I don't know. It looks like there are eerie lights deep down in there"

Jan, who had been sitting on a stool in his small tent, pushed his hands on his knees and got up: "Alright, I will take a look, then. Come along".

He picked up his friends and Donnangar, and together, they went to the waterhole. And really, there, somewhere deep in the water, they saw pale lights, which seemed to be slowly moving. However, from up there, it was hard to tell whether the lights were right under the surface or somewhere in the far deep of the unexplored water reservoir.

"I'll take a look", Ben announced and jumped down, turning into a shark as he hit the surface of the water.

For a while, the shaft went straight down. Then, after a couple of dozen yards, and well under the surface of the plains, Ben suddenly found himself in what seemed to be a giant underwater cave. Except for the rock above him, he saw no end anywhere.

The dancing lights were still far away, and for a moment Ben wondered whether he had discovered an underwater ocean. Lead by an impulse, he decided to swim deeper towards the lights, and soon he reached the first swarm of white and blind fish.

He ate some and noticed that he liked their taste, and then he noticed that there was something strange here. There was a scent, which he had never smelled before. It was almost as if everything down here had taken on the scent of something living, as if this one living being had been around for long enough that even the fish had taken on it's smell.

It was then that he saw the giant tentacle shooting towards him.

The thing was about as thick as he was, and he was a big shark, after all, and it moved at a speed much faster than his own, that much was clear. Yet, something in Ben kept him from running. Somehow, this whole situation seemed to be of no threat to him. In a way, it was almost familiar.

"So, you have returned, as you have promised", a voice suddenly boomed in Ben's head.

Staying calm, Ben thought, addressing the source of the voice:" You know me?"

"Yes, sure", the voice boomed, and then it "said"  something that no humanoid tongue was supposed to pronounce- it was Ben's shark name.

Now Ben understood. He must have been here in one of his previous lives, and assumed his shark form back then as well. "Well", he thought wistfully, "So much about discovering this ocean.".

"Pardon?" the voice boomed again, and Ben realized that the thing must have thought that he had addressed it.

"I am sorry", Ben thought, "but I don't have any memories of the last time I was here. So, who are you?"


----------



## Nightfall

So let me guess Ben was a shark that served Queen Ran huh?


----------



## Lars Frehse

Well, no comment on that, but on to the next update instead!


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Battle for Scorched Rock - part 3 of 4*

There was something like a soft laughter in Ben's head before the voice answered:" I am the Warden and I have been here for all eternity. Once, there was a city of orcs on top of this rock up there, but it was destroyed by humans, since even though I was their warden, there is only so much I can do above the surface."

"When was that? And what was your relationship with those orcs?", Ben asked.

"I was their friend and protector. They gave me gifts- jewels, gold and other sacrifices and I would grant them wishes if I felt like that. I was the kind spirit of their city. But then humans came and destroyed the city and since this place held no special meaning for them, they never settled down on the rock."

The voice paused shortly: „For you humanoids, expect for incarnates like you, of course, it was long ago. Long before what you call the titans war."

"And I was there, too?"

There was something like the telepathic equivalent of a nodding:" Yes, when the city fell, you were here and we talked. And you said that one of these days you would return and lead orcs back to the rock."

Ben was surprised. He had indeed come here with thousands of orcs, yet he had never seen it as part of a mission. In a strange way, he seemed to have been destined to come here with orcs... Or was it just a strange accident? That seemed unlikely in a world so full of destiny shaping powers.

For now, Ben pushed the thought of the reason of his presence aside. He communicated further with the being that called itself the warden, and he promised it to bring Donnangar close to the water site, since the warden had a little surprise. The Warden was looking forward to new sacrifices, however this time, he told Ben, he wanted none of this sacrifice of sentient beings. After all, all they did was rot here in the water, and what was the point of that?

Before Ben went back up to the surface, he asked the Warden for one look at it, and the tentacle gently lead the shark down to where his body was. There, Ben looked into an eye that was bigger than himself and a beak that could swallow whales whole. The Warden was an octopus the size of a mountain.

Back on the surface, Ben told Donnangar and his friends about his encounter, and suddenly they all heard the voice in their heads.

"DONNANGAR", it boomed, apparently aiming for effect. "DONNANGAR, NOBLE LEADER OF THE GRAVELFISTS! STEP UP TO RECEIVE A GIFT WORTHY OF A LEADER LIKE YOU!“

Donnangar stepped to the waterhole and just then a head-sized object shot out of the water, which Donnangar, with his well-trained reflexes, caught immediately.

It was a long helmet, which seemed to be made of platinum. It had no visor and the only protection for the face was a ridge that went down between the eyes. It was long and over the top of the skull, there was a sharp edge and at its neck, there was a mesh of mithril chain.

Donnangar put it on, and for all those around him, there was an immediate effect. Donnangar had always been unique because of his majestic posture and his magnetic personality. Now, however, he looked like one of the heroes of old: much larger than life.

At the same time Donnangar felt a strange connection to all his subjects and his officers. He knew where all of his officers were and he even had a feeling for the general mood among his followers (which was excellent). When he had recovered from the surprise of the feeling, he looked around and mirrored in the eyes of his followers he saw the majestic figure that he was now.

And then the Warden explained the other powers of the helmet to him.

The next few days, the weather improved remarkably. Throughout the day, the sun kept shining, offering a first taste of its summertime splendour. As the warriors relaxed and waited, enjoying the sun on their fur like body hair, their bodies weren't the only things affected by the change of season. Just like the sun was heating up the people during the day, it did the same to the plains- turning the frozen earth into mud.

Soon, mosquitoes and other insects were bothering the soldiers who grew more and more restless. For five days they had been waiting now, and still there was no sign of the enemy.  But then, on the afternoon, the scouts returned, reporting that the army of the Scorchskulls was approaching, and that in spite of the heavy losses they had sustained, they still had twice as many warriors as the Gravelfists.

When the army came into sight, it was truly mortifying to behold. The Scorchskulls marched in close ranks, making it lock like one huge monolithic block of flesh and steel, and the lances and banners stood out like a leafless forest.

As the defenders prepared themselves for battle, the army kept on marching evenly until they had gotten almost close enough to get hit by arrows. Then the one army split up into four evenly sized portions which then proceeded to build up camps about five hundred yards from each of the pathways that lead up the scorched rock.

There was a general feeling of nervousness among the defenders. It was clear to them, that Shikh Yarr, the leader of the Scorchskulls had his people well under control. Normally, the orcs would have simply charged up the hill, oblivious of the dangers of such a course. Yet now, all the Scorchskulls did was building up small camps while their drums were beating a slow but steady rhythm.

Hours went by while four small forts went up in the plains. Then, as the sun was setting, torches and fires lit up the night at each of the camps, and the volume and speed of the drumbeat was slowly rising. Belsameth's moon was a cold sickle in the sky and the countless stars were mirrored by the countless fires lit by the armies on the ground.

Since they were not hampered by the lack of light, like human armies would be, all four armies advanced as one towards the Scorched Rock. Their war drums were hammering a frenzied beat now, and the defenders almost felt how the earth was trembling as the enemy ran towards them.

Arrows, rocks or spells like Trepat’s lightning felled many of the attacking orcs, but that didn't slow the Scorchskulls down. After all, for each one who fell, two would fill up his spot and even though dozens died, they hardly mattered among the thousands who came through.

When they reached the fortifications, those Scorchskulls who weren't killed by the defenders tore down the feeble fortifications. Still, they were limited to the small spaces of the paths that lead up, and so they weren't able to apply their superior number. Instead, one-on-one melee ensued.


----------



## Nightfall

Well know that the war is slightly over, can we get to the Serpent Amphora conclusion?


----------



## LRathbun

I have to say that I like this more epic questing (to help rebuild a once proud nation) much more than the amaphore stuff.  The amaphore story arcs are ok but I would much rather be a part of a something epic is scale, or at least something that will last (like a nation).  All that to say, great story Lars!!

Luke


----------



## Nightfall

Obviously I don't have the last third but I have  feeling that something involving Dar Al Annot isn't exactly something you sweep under the floor. I just guess we have different definitions of what counts as epic. (Gee an nation of orcs. Sure they might make it...if another Blood Monsoon doesn't come along and Pisceans come along.) This not to say I don't like it Lars. It's good. I like it. I guess for me, nations come and go. They don't last. Part of the point I suppose.


----------



## Lars Frehse

Well, first I would like to thank you for your comments.
It is like Lrathbun said: there is a special attraction to being an active part in shaping a newborn nation. Of course the things that the Amphora trilogy (which I like a lot) are about are very important for the future of Ghelspad. Yet, the possible outcomes are limited. I guess you simply can't write an adventure in which you shape the form of a new culture, a nation, maybe an empire eventually. It is done differently. But for the characters, this offers a lot of opportunities to bring in their ideas and really shape things according to their wishes. In an adventure like the trilogy, the characters have to react mostly- to orders from above, to threats, etc., but they are not the ones who shape and build. The trilogy is the best adventure I had seen for 3e so far, but there are other things I like about Roleplaying as well. Things a computer game couldn't do, for instance.
(Incidentally, this gave me the opportunity to dig out the massbattle system from OD&D as well. )
When this chapter is done, I will write down the third part of the trilogy, so everybody should be happy then.


----------



## Nightfall

Okay well if you don't mind then, PLEASE hurry.  Thanks Lars. You know I love your stuff man. Otherwise I wouldn't post as much as I do.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Battle of Scorched Rock- part 4 of 4*

In the beginning, the squads of Jan, Niklas, Ben and Trepat held one pass each. Those squads consisted mostly of Gravelfist-barbarians, but were supported by druids and sorcerers as well. After a while, though, their numbers were getting smaller and smaller, and the heroes themselves were wounded as well. As they retreated, leaving behind piles of bodies, new units filled the gaps and battled on.

After they had tended to their basest needs, they took up administrative work and deployed the new troops. Donnangar and his elite soldiers, however, stayed behind. The plan was that he would get into action in case any of the four defensive positions should break. Then it would be their job to push the attackers back and resecure the pathway.

The battle raged for many hours. Even though the attackers were receiving heavy losses, and their corpses were littering the side of the scorched rock, they kept on coming. Of course they were driven by their untameable lust for battle, but there was more to it as well. After all the Scorchskullleaders knew that even though their losses were higher than those of their enemies, they were able to compensate that by their superior number

After midnight, the constant noise of battle was still drowning out the moans and cries of the wounded and dying. For the heroes it was clear that their numbers were about to run thin. They had lost many soldiers, and just as many were wounded. And even those who were still standing, about one third of their army, were severely fatigued and weary.

It was then that there was a commotion at the northern flank- at last the Scorchskulls had broken through. Immediately, Donnangar set out with his hand-picked barbarians, rangers, druids and sorcerers, and they soundly defeated the already weakened attackers, killing them and driving them back until the path was secure. 

For a little while longer, the attackers pressed on, but without success. Eventually, when the first stars where fading from the sky and the first hint of the coming morning was in the sky, the drums fell silent and by and by, the Scorchskulls fell away from all four paths. The first wave had been thrown back.

There was muted cheering among the defenders. Even though they had won this battle, they had suffered severe losses, and many of the orcs who had fought bravely that night were now either too wounded or too tired to celebrate. The druids and shamans were busy taking care of the wounded and as the sun rose up, it became clear that the Scorchskulls weren't about to give up just yet.

The slopes and the plains around the rock were littered with bodies, and both sides weren't able to retrieve their bodies, fearing the archers of the enemy. By noon, when the sun was burning down from the clear blue sky, the air was filled with the sweet odour of the corpses. The only relief came at night, when the cold stopped the rotting process, but on the next morning, it got even worse.

No one knew where they had come from, but millions of flies appeared. It almost looked as if they had been hiding somewhere, waiting for this extraordinary feast, and the healers had another problem. Not only did they take care of the wounded, but they had to keep the flies from the open wounds as well. Where they couldn't prevent it, the flies placed their eggs into the festering wounds, and when new flies hatched, they caused limitless agony to their victims.

Fortunately for the Gravelfists, the Scorchskulls in their camps below seemed to be encountering similar problems. At least they didn't attack that day either.

Another night and another day passed, and even for the savage orcs the stench of the thousands of rotting bodies became unbearable. At the following night Enkili had mercy with them, and the winds picked up, bringing clear and fresh air to them. It was then that the drums started beating again. 

Once again four columns of orcs were running up the paths, trampling over the decomposing bodies under them, and again they battered against the defences. Both sides fought fiercely, but even though most of the Gravelfist warriors were wounded, the confidence that their previous victories had given them gave them an additional edge, and after a few hours, after a new layer of fresh corpses had covered the rotting bodies, the Scorchskulls retreated again.

This time however, they packed up their camps and retreated completely, as every surviving Gravelfist cheered and hooted. At last, the battle of Scorched Rock was won.

Throughout the night, they celebrated, drinking ale and spirits and singing and dancing. They lit up huge bonfires and never had life tasted so sweet to them.

At some point, Ben left the celebrating orcs behind and went to the central water hole. He pulled out his moneybag and poured the golden and silver coins in it into the water. Immediately, he heard the voice of the warden's voice in his head:" Ah, the first sacrifice. Very well, Incarnate. Bring some orcs for a miracle.“

That wasn't what he had intended, but since it couldn't hurt, Ben picked up Donnangar, his friends, and all officers and warriors he could find who weren't too injured or too drunk to walk. Back at the waterhole, a small iron cube appeared in front of him and he heard the voice again, ordering him to put the cube at one of the pathways.

There, the cube changed and, to the wonder of those who watched, turned into a solid tower with a protective layer of adamantium. Then, Ben explained that Donnangar and those he designated could enter and leave the tower, and it would be the first defensive structure of their new town.

On the next day, the corpses were pillaged and then burned in huge bonfires. Jan found a plate mail that absorbed all light, making it hardly visible in the dark and which seemed to absorb sounds as well. When Jan left, intending to join the rank of the Mithril knights, Chirra and two friends came along. The three orcs were devoted to Corean and intended to become paladins in Corean's own city. If they would pass the tests, they would be the first full-blooded orcs who became paladins.

In the next weeks, after Jan, his apprentices and his friends had left after having been named nobles of the Gravelfists, Donnangar laid down the sword and picked up the pen of diplomacy. More than one third of the tribes that had been part of the Scorchskulls changed allegiance in the following weeks, and their chiefs acknowledged Donnangar as their supreme leader. Over night, the Gravelfist had become the dominant tribe in the plains, and as they started to build up their new capitol on Scorched rock, the dream of an orcish nation became more and more tangible.

 However, there was still a long way to go until they could claim the plains. The path in front of Donnangar and his people was still a stony one, to say the least, but another major step had been taken.

In Mithril, after some debate, the three young orcs were given a chance and in a solemn ceremony, Jan became a member of the Mithril Knights, the most august order of servants of Corean. One of the guests was Eochaid, the young Vigilante whom they had met during their first encounter with the serpent amphora. He congratulated Jan, and then he told the Paladin and his friends that he wasn't merely in Mithril to celebrate with him.

Home commander Kelemis Durm had sent him- there were news about the amphora.


----------



## Nightfall

And so the last act begins.  I can't wait!


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Bosom of the Mother- part 1*

Once again, Kelemis Durn welcomed them in the sunroom. 

For a moment, while they were exchanging pleasantries, Jan's mind wandered back to their trip to Lave. They had travelled down the corridor, where Vengauraks had ambushed them. When afterwards Jan had used his powered of healing to heal himself first, he had felt how his connection to Corean had wavered...

As Kelemis started briefing them, the paladin was suddenly jerked back into the presence. "... so your previous mission has turned out to have formidable results" the home commander said ". However, we cannot simply perform the ritual here in Lave. We need a place of power, and the nearest such place is in the Ganjus Forest. There the Amphora can be destroyed- and we will be rid of that damned thing once and for all."

He continued to tell them about the elves of the Ganjus, and once again, Jan felt how his mind left the lecture and wondered away. It was just the same as in the times of his training, when he had often spent the endless lectures about religion and history dreaming about his future heroics.

When the connection had failed him, he had lost the ability to heal and cure, among other things. Even though Jan was far from being book smart and it often took him a long time to understand complex issues, he nonetheless realized that Corean had left him because he wanted no selfish servants.

So, for the rest of the trip, he had stopped whenever he could to help out farmers, using his powers to cure livestock or forging small items when needed. By the time they had reached Lave, he was back in Corean's grace.

But now, in the sun-room, Jan focused his attention back to Kelemis Durn's speech:"... but you shouldn't worry about the Jordeh. One of the men who will come with you has had experiences with them and he had gained their thrust. Furthermore, they will certainly respect an incarnate and a fellow elf."

He personally refilled their glasses with the light wine the steward had served upon the heroes' arrival, and then continued:" To make a long story short, I would like you to accompany the Amphora and the True Ritual to the Ganjus. The route itself isn't precisely hostile territory, but of course it can be dangerous and we're all but certain that someone will make a play for the Amphora along the way. So be wary."

All of the friends agreed to go on that journey without thinking twice about it. After all, they had been involved with the Amphora for so long now, and they wanted to see this threat gone. Kelemis Durn told them to meet with a dozen handpicked soldiers and Vian Piridur, the officer who had dealt with the Jordeh, the keepers of the Ganjus, in the morning and begin their trek then.

Their two weeks journey through Vesh was pleasantly uneventful. They travelled on horseback, and the amphora was kept in a heavy, magically sealed chest, which was kept in an oaken wagon. Everywhere in Vesh, the farmers were planting and sowing. Shepherds were lazily sleeping next to their flocks of sheep and spring lambs while the bees were busy buzzing from flower to flower.

Still, the friends and the soldiers kept their guard up. After all, the friends knew that agents of Mormo could be anywhere, just like they had in the past. Even the friendliest farmer boy could be a sinister agent of the witch queen, and so they never dared to let the idyllic surroundings lull them into a false sense of security.

Still, after two weeks they saw the kelders towering in front of them, and nothing exciting had happened to them until this point. At the foot of the mountains, near a path that lead downwards into a deep and rocky gorge, they came across an encampment. The bulk of the camp was formed by tents, which were solidly staked to resist the gust of wind that blew up from the valley and there was a handful of wooden buildings as well. 

The men and women were Ontenazans, the people who had found a way to live in and between those mountains, in spite of the unpredictable and often-lethal winds that were blowing there. They were dark skinned and both men and women wore the same loose tunics and leggings.

Trepat had been briefed by Piridur before on how to behave towards the Ontenazans, and he approached one windwalker, a young dark-skinned woman called Aisha. Since Ontenzans didn't haggle and considered the whole procedure to be uncouth, the negotiations were short, and after one hundred gold had changed hands, she lead them to some tents.

"Make yourselves as comfortable as you can, and try to sleep," she said her melodic voice tingling slightly with with the accent of her people. "We'll set out first thing in the morning.“

Shortly before dawn, Aisha and the soldiers got up. Niklas, who hardly ever slept anymore ever since he had acquired a technique that allowed the monks of Hedrada to stay awake all day, woke up his friends, and by the first light of dawn, they were ready to go.

The path ahead of them looked daunting. The earth was hard and rocky and the footing was so precarious that the horses had to be walked, not ridden. The walls of the canyon were rough and unyielding, and as the sun rose up, they reflected the heat downward, heating up the surface and the air and blinding the eyes.

The next days were a miserable experience. The winds turned out to be truly hideous, making speech nearly impossible, and only by screaming at the top of their lungs could they shout over the constant noise. The direction of the winds changed randomly, and it often happened that a hero or a soldier who was leaning heavily into the wind fell flat on the face when suddenly the wind changed direction and pushed them to the ground.

Split lips, chipped teeth and bloody noses became a universal part of the soldiers' uniforms. Even though the horses were well trained, they nonetheless pulled and strained against their halters, with their eyes rolling in constant panic.

Since no tents could stand against the wind, night-camps consisted mostly of sleeping bags stuffed behind rocky outcroppings. And since the winds never ceased, sleep was hard to get, and they were constantly woken up whenever they had drifted into the deeper regions of their dreams.

Even more frustrating, Aisha refused to a straight course. Often, she doubled back, paused for hours on end and made turns that took the expedition into what looked like the wrong direction. The heroes knew that all windwalkers worked like that, avoiding the worst of the winds this way, but still it didn't make the trip any either, especially since they wanted to spend as little time in this hell made of rock and winds as possible.

Then, on the fourth day, disaster struck in form of an avalanche.


----------



## Red Baron

Still going strong, Lars! FWIW, I loved the Gravelfist/Scorched Skull scenario. Very epic and heroic. The Warder was a nice touch, as well -- you do a nice job of working each PC's personal story into the ongoing events. A very subtle storyteller's touch.

Right, now carry on.


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## Nightfall

Yes good job so far. Can't wait for more. (Btw what did Jan do ingame that he lost his connection to Corean?)


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## Lars Frehse

Thank you.

Nightfall, Ben's player wasn't there during the session, and after the fight against the Vengauraks, everybody was wounded. However, Jan used his "lay on hands" only on himself, burning the ability for the day. Now, I would expect a servant of Corean to be selfless and to take care of his friends first, and so I had him lose some abilities. However, when he started to take care of curing milk-cows, etc., he got his powers back for that until he had been fully restored.


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## Nightfall

I see. And yes you are right, if you're a paladin you treat others BEFORE treating yourself.


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## Lars Frehse

*Bosom of the mother- part 2*

One side of the canyon came alive with stones, dust and rubble, which tumbled down on their miserable little caravan. The horses, noticing the imminent danger first, tore lose, trying to get away from the immediate vicinity of the impact, but still three of the animals and two of the soldiers were buried underneath.

There wasn't a glimpse of the buried victims, and it was unlikely that anyone could have survived such an impact, but the friends wanted to at least try rescuing them. However, Aisha shouted over the noise of the wind:" We don't have time for this! If we stay here, we will all get killed. There is nothing we can do."

They had to rely on their guide's knowledge, and so they had to move on with a heavy heart, wondering whether some unlucky soul was dying miserably under the rubble.

A couple of days later, when everybody was weary, tired and nearly deaf, Gren and Titian, two especially young soldiers were dragged to death when the floor of the walkway beneath their mounts gave way and they all crashed to the canyon floor ninety yards below.

Eventually, when everybody was secretly wondering whether they would ever leave this lethal maze, they found themselves in front of Featherweb Bridge, a network of ropy strands, pulleys and enormous buckets. They all were tired and chose to be transported in the buckets. It wasn't worth crashing to death at the end of their journey out of pride.

Now that they had the worst behind them, they spent the night in Featherweb Camp, the lofty ontenazan town, as their hearing came slowly back. All of them would have loved to have a few more days to take care of their bruises and exhausted bodies, but they didn't dare to waste any time and moved on the next morning.

For the next few days, they travelled through the foothills of the Kelders until after four days, they went over another chain of hills and there it was, covering the entire land ahead of them: The Ganjus forest.

Majestic trees were towering up to the skies and everywhere small animals were scurrying around and birds were singing. Everything looked healthy and pure, and there were none of the barren patches or twisted trees, which were a part of the land everywhere else in Ghelspad. The Ganjus instantly gave them an idea just how Scarn must have once looked before the Titan's war.

They camped on the grassy plain in front of the forest, and on the next morning they entered the forest. Progress was difficult, but nobody minded it. Instead, they enjoyed the rich beauty all around them. When they settled down in a pleasant grove near a small streamlet, they had hardly made any progress, but as Piridur had told them, they could expect elves to show up soon enough.

His words became true shortly after sunset, when a tattooed wood elf approached them. He had long black hair, wore only leather leggings and held a bow in his hand, an arrow pointing to the forest floor.

He looked around shortly, and then announced with a soft voice: "I will speak with your leader.“

Seeing that Piridur preferred to stay behind for now, Trepat stepped up and said in elvish: "That would be me, then.“

The elf nodded: "Of course. I assume you brought the humans and the others here deliberately. Why have you come?"

Knowing that there was no point in lying, since they would need the elves assistance anyway, Trepat told him about the amphora, it's significance and how they intended to destroy it here.

After he had listened intently, the elf introduced himself as Inaciel, and four young elves stepped out of the darkness, introducing themselves as well. Then he said:" I myself can't give you permission to enter any of our sacred places. I can, however, take you to see the Jordeh. They will decide whether or not you will be permitted to continue."

For the next three days, they were lead through the Ganjus. Inaciel and the other elves treated them politely, and the younger elves were even showing a good dose of curiosity. Apparently, they had never met any non-elvish divine races, and because of that, a lot of the customs of the Vigilantes and the friends were highly intriguing to them.

Just after noon on the third day, the elves lead the expedition into a clearing that was big enough for the expedition and their carts. Just when they had settled down, Tamlaine, one of the leaders of the Jordeh, stepped out of one of the trees. She had grey hair and wore a simple brown tunic and her brown eyes were full of wisdom and compassion.

After Inaciel had formally greeted her, she said: "I will speak with their leader."

This time, Piridur rose up and greeted her in Middle Elvish. Tamlaine nodded, and together they disappeared between the trees to speak in private.

Now that there was nothing to do but wait, everybody settled down. Trepat talked with Inaciel about the development of elvish politics, while the soldiers watered their horses and grabbed a bite, here and there exchanging a few words with the elves with whom they had made some connection in the last couple of days.

Suddenly, though, Trepat noticed that something was wrong. Looking up, he noticed what was different. For the last few days, the sky had always been blue and the sun had been shining down on them. Now, however, dark clouds were blocking out the sun. That alone wasn't unusual, but Trepat knew that there hadn't been any indications of a change of weather. This allowed only one conclusion...

"Attention everyone!“ he shouted: "I am afraid a storm-hag is coming!"


----------



## Nightfall

She's baaaaaccccckkkkk!


----------



## Red Baron

Here's where it gets good -- this is one of my favorite parts of the whole trilogy coming up right here... Can't wait to see how it turns out for your group.


----------



## Nightfall

Same here...at least my anticipation is pretty high even though I've not read the last module.


----------



## Talix

Geez, it's like you guys read the last page of the book first!  

Man, a lot has gone by since I've had time to stop by here - I loved the orc war, and the guardian was a very nice touch.  If you don't mind my asking, how much wealth was sacrificed for that particular miracle?  Seems like a pretty powerful thing, and too bad they didn't have it before the battle!  

Anyway, I'm definitely enjoying your updates as always, thanks!


----------



## Red Baron

Well, I sort of can't help having read the book, since I edited it...


----------



## Lars Frehse

Thanks for all your comments.  I intend to post another update tonight.

Talix, Ben had sacrificed a little more than 1.000 GPs, IIRC. The guardian gave such a big gift in order to ensure future sacrifices. At the same time, he made clear, that he won't always grant a wish after a sacrifice, but merely when he decides to do so. This way, you will never be sure whether your sacrifice will do any good, and that is exactly the way the guardian wants it. He wants to be revered as a helpful spirit, but he doesn't want to be worshipped.


----------



## Nightfall

Can't wait Lars!


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Bosom of the mother- part 3 of 4*

Immediately, the soldiers stopped whatever they were doing at that moment, and readied their weapons and shields. Inaciel shouted over the rising wind: " Hold there, if you can! We're going to warn Tamlaine!", and the six elves vanished into the trees, ducking to avoid the branches which were now thrashing about in the wind.

"We have to shield the wagon!“ Torn shouted to Niklas, and they pushed their bodies into the wind as they ran to the wagon. Once there, the monk jumped on top of it, landing on his feet, and pulled Torn up to stand at his side on the hard wooden top of the wagon.

Trepat and Jan stayed with the soldiers, who were looking anxiously around as the howling storm got stronger, shaking the treetops and whirling the clouds into a huge vortex above. For a few moments, nothing happened, and the scene in the clearing was frozen, until two large hags broke through the clouds and a construct made of wood and thorns came lumbering into the clearing from amidst the trees.

Immediately, Trepat cast a lightning bolt, and since he feared that the hags couldn't be harmed by electricity, he altered the spell in a way that substituted the lightning with acid. Both were hurt, and in return, they let lightning strike from the clouds, killing one of the soldiers, and badly injuring Trepat.

The soldiers surged forward in order to fight the golem, but after a few strikes, they saw that their swords couldn't hurt the thing. Jan healed Trepat and then ran as fast as his heavy armour allowed him to, swinging his bastardsword and charging at the golem.

Meanwhile, Torn shot at the descending hags with his crossbow while Niklas held his glaive ready, daring them to come closer. In return, the hags shot fire at them, but then Trepat shot another acid lightning at the Mormo-witches, scorching away their flesh, and they both crashed uncontrolled and screaming to the ground, breathing their last upon their impact. 

Whenever the golem hit a soldier, the poor Veshian was tossed backwards several feet, since the strength of the thing seemed to derive from the power of the very oak it was made of. With the hags gone, Torn and Niklas shortly considered leaving the cart and helping the soldiers, but then their process of thought was suddenly interrupted, as they noticed that it was getting even darker, as something huge was blocking out the last light that had managed to penetrate the dark clouds above.

Both looked up simultaneously, as if their heads were attached to invisible strings, which were jerked up by an unseen hand at the same time, and their eyes widened as they saw the huge form of a wooden dragon plummeting towards them. 

On it's back, they saw a storm hag, and over the noise of the storm and the rushing sound of the dragon, they heard her cackling, which sounded uncomfortably familiar. In a flash, they saw scenes from when had met her before: at the asaathi camp in the blood steppes fighting Chardun's servants and over the blood basin summoning the storm that had sunk their ship.

However, there was no time for idle recollection, since the dragon seemed to have no intention to slow his flight and was crashing towards them. Torn jumped as far from the cart as his powerful legs would push him, rolling away once he had hit the soft ground, but Niklas stayed for the merest fraction of a second longer, raising his glaive and intending to impale the thing on it. There was no time to make a real decision, but he knew that there was too much at stake, and the servants of Mormo should under no circumstances gain possession of the amphora, even if it cost him his life.

The dragon fell down with his front paws stretched out, and the glaive did not even puncture the dragon's skin. Then it had reached the wagon, which exploded into a shower of wood and iron, Niklas being just one item of many. One claw had ripped his side open and he was tossed in a high arch over the clearing, slamming to the floor some twenty yards away.

Before Ben had reached the ground, however, the storm hag shot a long frog tongue at the now revealed chest that held the amphora. Right before the dragon would have hit the ground, her tongue was wrapped around it, and the dragon cast a spell with supernatural speed, finishing it just as the first of his talons had just entered an inch wide into the soft ground, and then the dragon was gone, nowhere to be seen.

Niklas, who was hurting all over and barely alive, used his powers of inner healing, and he thought for a moment that from somewhere over the clouds he heard the faint cackling of the witch. As he was closing his wounds, ignoring the pain the way he had been taught, he saw Torn helping Jan, Trepat and the soldiers defeat the golem. Looking around, he noticed that for three of the soldiers, all help came too late- two had been killed by the golem and one had been fried by lightning.

Again, he heard the cackling, and this time he was certain that the hag was indeed still close by. "Trepat, come here, I need your help!“ he called.

The elf came running through the wind and rain, his friends in tow. The remaining soldiers had stayed behind, taking care of their brothers-in-arms.

"Trepat", Niklas explained, "we should get to Piridur- he still has the ritual, and I am certain that the dragon and the hag haven't completely gone from here. Do you think you can find his tracks in this weather?"

"I can always try", Trepat answered, and he hunkered down low where he had seen Piridur and Tamlaine disappear between the trees. Soon, he found one set of tracks- and seeing that heavy boots had made them, he was sure that the ranger had come this way. Tamlaine, being an elvish druid, had not so much as bent the grass she had walked on.

After having followed a trail for about a minute, they turned around a corner to stand in front of Inaciel, who was apparently heading towards them. The haggard looking elf stopped dead in his tracks and said: "Come with me. Quickly."

Without any further explanation, he turned to sprint into the wood, and the friends ran after them with Jan lagging behind. After a short but exhausting run, which was spent pushing through thick scrub and between heavy trees while they were sinking into the muddy ground, they broke through some bushes into another clearing.

The earth of the clearing was torn and strewn in lumps, as though something large and clawed had recently stood there, and in the middle, several elves were crouching low, tending to someone. Seeing the four adventurers, the elves drew back, and now the friends could see whom the elves had tended to.

There, lying in the mud, which was darkened by her blood, herself deeply wounded, was the druid Tamlaine. As the friends stepped into her view, she croaked:" Dragon! Come from...your direction. Couldn't... stop it. It took... it took your companion, Piridur."


----------



## Nightfall

Wow!  Not only did we see Hieela again but she brought a WOODWRACK too! That's pretty nasty man.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Bosom of the mother- part 4 of 4*

Jan went down on his knees and used his healing powers on the injured druids. Some of the wounds closed and the bleeding stopped, but Tamlaine's injuries were too severe for Jan to completely heal them. Still, she was now strong enough to prop herself up on her elbows, wincing all the while:" The dragon flew southwest. We can… call upon the birds and the... beasts of the woods, to learn… where it went. You may yet… be able... to retrieve what you have lost.“

Jan told her to stay silent for her own good, and while he tended to her wounds as good as he could, the remaining five soldiers came through the brush, looking shattered. Of the twelve soldiers they had started out with at Lave, four had died in the canyons of Ontenazu and three more were lost in the last battle. Niklas was at a loss at what to say to them. It seemed as if their losses had been for naught.

Just as he was struggling for words, several elves entered the clearing, and one of them reported to Tamlaine that the dragon flew directly towards the Hornsaw forest, passing swiftly out of the Ganjus and over the Haggard hills.

Tamlaine frowned, but at least her breathing was coming more steadily now:" The Hornsaw Forest is a hideous, dangerous place with much room for even a dragon to hide. I fear that you have much toil ahead, if you would recover the Amphora, for I cannot even tell you where in the Hornsaw to begin.

"I can assure you," she continued, "that the Jordeh will only be too happy to perform this ritual for you, now that we have seen what is at stake. If you survive the Hornsaw and the citadel of the Dar al Annot, return to the southernmost point of the Ganjus, southwest of the healing circle. My brethren will await you there.“

The friends looked at each other, and every one of them saw his own determination mirrored in the eyes of his companions. Niklas turned to the soldiers: " I believe it is best if you would stay behind. If we do not return, someone will have to inform the Home commander."

Lirana, the most experienced of the remaining warriors who had now, in Piridur's absence, become commander, nodded in agreement: "We would rather come with you, of course, but we will ask the elves for a place to stay for the time being."

"That will be no problem, of course", Inaciel offered. He told one of his men to guide the remaining soldiers to Vera Tre, the elvish capitol, and then he turned back to the friends:" Do you feel ready to leave now? We will guide you to the southern edge of the Ganjus, and that will be quite a long journey."

They agreed to leave now and ignore their aches and wounds for the time being. Soon they were travelling again, west and southwards through the Ganjus.

After a week, in which a lot of the beauty of the Ganjus had lost its appeal, the trees began to thin and the terrain grew more and more hilly. Soon afterwards, they had reached the edge of the forest, and ahead of them they saw the barren, blasted wastelands of the haggard hills.

Inaciel sighed deeply, showing how he regretted that they weren't able to be of any further help, and said:" This is where we will leave you. Should you succeed, return to the Healing Circle, or as near to it as you are able. The Jordeh will await you, and offer sanctuary."

With a brief bow, he and his companions were gone, fading away into the forest, and the friends took the time to get a good look at the land they were about to cross. The hills rose like boils on the skin of the earth and the rocks and scrubs that covered them were scorched by the merciless sun above.

Yet there were also faint but recognizable signs of healing. For every barren hill, another was covered in a coat of grass, often brown and feeble, but living nonetheless. Occasionally, there were some animals as well: a snake, a rabbit or a thin raptor flying overhead. The land was not lush, but it was living and breathing, and it grew stronger with every passing season, slowly healing the scars of the divine war.


----------



## Nightfall

The Haggard Hills..and soon the Blood Steppes!  Then finally the Hornsaw! Should be fun when the reach the heart of the forest.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*The heart of darkness- part 1*

They rode out into the hills, leading their mounts by the reins whenever the ground became too rocky for their steeds. Looking at the maps the elves had given them, they saw that they had to cross merely 100 miles of these badlands. The bloodsteppes ended somewhere to the east, but they found that the lands weren't any more hospitable here.

Occasionally, they saw indications of giant spiders and other monstrous predators, but they succeeded in avoiding all of them. The air and the ground were hot and the winds were dry and blowing fine sand, which constantly whipped against all exposed flesh, roughing it up like sandpaper.

It took them over four days to cross the hills, never encountering any truly dangerous foes. It was almost as if the world around had gone into a lull in order to spare them for the horrors that lay ahead of them.

On their first night, around the campfire, as the air was quickly cooling down around them, Niklas said:" My teacher, Brother William, had once told me about the Hornsaw. Before Mormo had been killed there, it had supposedly been the most beautiful of all of Ghelspad's forests. Back then, it was still called the Broadreach Forest. But with her foul essence spread everywhere, it transformed into something wicked and twisted...

" For several years, all divine life in there was on the retreat, until the elves of the Ganjus had offered the remaining Broadreachelves to join them. Most of the dwarves were already gone by that time, of course."

"I didn't know of any mountains within the Hornsaw", Ben said.

"Oh, you mean because of the dwarves?" Niklas said and laughed shortly, " Well, William told me that there had been a different kind of dwarves. They had no affinity to the mountains but to the forests instead, and they were supposed to be fabled woodworkers."

Ben's brow furrowed and he shook his head: "I find this hard to believe.“

"Well, I don't think that my teacher lied to me. Anyway, the Broadreach elves decided to stay, even though the forest had been fouled and there was Titanspawn everywhere. In order to save the forest, they decided to melt with the forest, and after a major ritual, they were all gone, their souls merged with the spirits of the forest:"

"Do you mean that they merged with a tree each, like dryads?“ Torn asked.

Niklas shrugged:" Even William wasn't sure about that, and you know that there was very little about which he admitted his ignorance. The way it looked, they merged with the entire forest, slowly healing it to a certain degree. And there are reports of elvish spirits who came to aid divine people within the forest.

"Then, after a century, the elves returned, and they are living within the forest until this day. However, it is still a wicked, evil and very deadly place. But supposedly, it would have been even worse, had the elves not merged with it."

Nobody said a word for the rest of the night, as they looked up to the stars and each of them wondered about what lay in store for them.

When they finally reached the Hornsaw, it looked even more horrible than they had expected. The trees loomed menacingly, their branches scraping together in breezes, which should have been too weak to move them and their shadows stretched before them in directions, which were completely at odds with the ambient light.

The heat was oppressive, and the soil was thick sticky, as though the blood of Mormo was still moistening and corrupting it. There was no birdsong to be heard; instead the only sounds, which weren’t swallowed by the ground and the bushes, were the screeches and screams of twisted animals born to a life of endless pain.

Right when they entered, Ben had to put down the wolf-skull he was wearing as a helmet and which gave him the fine olfactory senses of that predator. The sickly stench of rot was everywhere, as if behind every tree and every bush a decaying carcass was hidden from view, and it threatened to overpower the incarnate when he first entered.

After they had entered the forest in silence, Torn commented: “Niklas, are you sure about the stories your teacher taught you? This place is horrible.“

Niklas was at a loss of words: “ Well, he sure told me about it. The forest probably would have been even worse without their effort.“

“I wouldn’t want to see how it could be any worse”, Jan said, stepping out of what looked like an inch-deep puddle of blood.

They walked deeper and deeper into the forest, hoping for some clues that could lead them to the citadel of the Dar Al Annot. They all of them felt the futility of their search, after all the broadreach was huge enough to hide almost anything. And even if they would find it, there was no guarantee that they would find it in time. Still, none of them gave up, and they tried to be as cheerful as possible, trying to at least create some hope for their companions.

In the afternoon, as they were just walking past a dark, muddy pool which smelled even worse than the rest of the forest, something stirred in the water. Trepat, who walked at the rear, was just about to shout a warning, as two huge crustaceans with giant claws shot out of the water, one of them grabbing Niklas, who was caught completely unaware.


----------



## Nightfall

Time to fight!  Can't wait to see what they think of the home of the Dar Al Annot.


----------



## Lars Frehse

Well, they will need to get there first.  
Anyway, I have just finished a new update. Once at home, I will do the spellchecking, so that I will be able to post it in two hours or so.
Incidentally, I will use a cliff-hanger that is presented between the first two chapters of the actual adventure to end this update. I wanted to post that ahead, so that the credit goes where credit is due.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*The heart of darkness- part 2*

As Niklas tried to free himself from the vice-like grip, he remembered his teacher telling him about those monsters. They were called "Chuuls" and he distinctly recalled Brother William talking about the tentacles, which hung under the crustacean's head like a beard. They were strong enough to wrap around a horse and injected a paralysing poison into the Chuul's victim.

Niklas doubled his efforts, as the chuul moved him to his tentacles, but the claws were as immovable as if they were forged with steel. When he reached the tentacles, they wrapped around him and he felt their tips pushing under his skin, immediately pumping their poison into his veins.

Meanwhile, Jan swung had jumped down from his horse, and while his steed attacked the chuul with it's hooves, he swung his sword at it. But to his surprise, the carapace proved to be harder than he thought, and his blade bounced back, merely denting the hard chitin.

The others joined his efforts, hardly hurting the monsters, while Niklas felt how his spirits left him. The poison was working now, and he felt more and more detached from his body, and as the chuul's mandibles started to chew on him, he was already too far-gone to notice it, drifting away into a land of dreams...

In those dreams, he was five years old again, and playing hide and seek with his brother and his father. There was no problem in the world as he hid behind the forge and the sun was slowly sinking behind the window...

Then, his brother stood behind him and emptied a bucket of water over his head.

The next thing he knew, he was surrounded by water. Immediately, his spirits returned, and he pushed himself up, bursting out of the muddy pond water in which he had been dropped. After vomiting what felt like half of the pond's dirty and reeking water, he looked around and saw that the Chuul that had held him was now killed, and he quickly thanked Corean, for he was sure that he had been close to really meeting his father again. He was severely wounded, and still groggy from the paralysing poison, but the fight wasn't over just yet.

The remaining Chuul had just tossed Torn against a tree, and the halforc dropped to the ground, limp like a lifeless bag of potatoes. To his right, the monk noticed Trepat, who was bleeding from a chest wound and who was slowly sliding from the muddy ground into the pond.

Niklas waded through the water as hurriedly as possible while pulling out a potion of healing, and after a few steps, he had reached Trepat. Holding up the elf's head, he filled the potion into his mouth, and immediately, Trepat's eyes started to flutter and the sorcerer was back.

Ben, Jan and their steeds were still fighting the Chuul. Thinking quickly, Trepat noticed that the only one standing in the water was the chuul, and he shot a lighting bolt into the water. There, the electricity exploded in a burst of light and steam. The Chuul, who was already wounded, jerked in spastic motions as the current ran through his body and then, when it was over, he crashed forward to the ground, his small brain completely fried.

After healing Torn and the others who were wounded, Ben stood scratching over the two carcasses:" I wonder whether someone could make an armor out of their carapaces...“

"We could try. There is still space in our bag of holding", Torn said, and pulled out his hatchet.

His friends working on the carcasses, Trepat looked idly onto the pond when he saw something glittering. Carefully, he stepped in, and pulled a silver coin out of the water. After rubbing it against his pants, he turned the coin in his hand. On one side, it had the head of a jester, and on the other a skull.

Wondering about the strange design, he called for his friends, and after looking around, they found three humanoid skeletons, more coins and a sceptre that was topped by a jester's head. The sceptre was magical, but here in the forest, Trepat had no time to settle down and ascertain the properties of the item.

When they were done, they went deeper and deeper into the forest. At night, they were assaulted by a group of slitheren, regular soldiers and red witch sorcerers, and when the next morning came, none of them had slept well, since the screams of pain were audible throughout the night as well.

They packed up their things and moved on. After an hour, they heard a loud rustling within the nearby bush, and all of the friends grabbed for their weapons. To their surprise, a creature of which all the friends considered extinct stepped out of the bushes: a unicorn. It looked like a large warhorse, which was covered, in shaggy, walnut-hued fur. It's hooves, sharp teeth and the name-giving horn glinted in the dim light and it snorted angrily and pawed the earth.

For a moment, no one said a word. They all had heard stories about those fabulous creatures, but they were supposed to have been a part of Ghelspad that the titan's war had irrevocably destroyed. Suddenly, a low female voice called out from the trees to the creature's right:" I suggest you make no sudden moves. Duzghul isn't looking for a fight, but he is edgy..."

The friends still held their hands to their weapons, as an elfish woman appeared from the trees. Her hair, skin and clothes were all covered with layers of caked-in dirt; the only bright spot on her face were her glinting blue eyes. 

"What are you doing here?“ she asked, holding her two curved blades, which looked like they were fashioned from horns like the one of her unicorn.

"We came here for we have to retrieve something the witches of Mormo had stolen from us", Trepat answered in elvish and he caught her eyes with his gaze.

"Maybe I can help you", she snapped, her eyes looking out from a small slit.

"Why should we trust you", Niklas asked.

She snorted:" Because you are deep in the Hornsaw, and unless someone helps you, you will be dead soon. So, even if I mean you harm, I would simply be the cause of the fate that will come to you in any case. Unless you find an ally who knows this forest, that is."

Trepat nodded:" All right then. We would be honoured to accept your help. We are looking for the Dar Al Annot"

"Alright. May name is Leral, and I can show you the way to the citadel, and keep you out of harm's way as long as you stay close to me", she said, still not smiling " The Annot Kalambath is the centre of their power, and it lies deep in the forest. I know the fastest way, and I know that their leader, the Blood Crone, is away at the moment. That doesn't mean the citadel is unguarded, but at least anything you attempt isn't guaranteed suicide."

Seeing that the heroes were ready to follow her, she lead them westwards. Over the next couple of days, it showed that she was indeed able to lead them in a way that let them avoid any further lethal encounters. However, she turned out to be extremely bad company as well.

She was rude, arrogant, unfriendly and spiteful. Whenever she was asked just what her relation to the other elves was, she simply avoided the issue, mentioning only that she belonged to an order that preferred to stay away from the major elvish settlements, since they believed to be the most efficient on their own.

Finally, after a nightmarish trek of several days through the outlandish and corrupted wood, Leral pushed aside a thick cluster of hanging, vine-like tendrils with the tip of one of her blades.

"We are here,“ she whispered, and her hoarse voice showed the first hint of uncertainness ever since they had met. "Annot Kalambath."

Leral stepped aside, allowing the friends to move forward and see close up just what it was they had taken on...


----------



## Snoweel

Hej Lars!!!

Good to see your campaign is going stronger than ever. You're really blessed with some creative players.

Can you give classes and levels at this point in the game?


----------



## Nightfall

Mm...Annot Kalambath. Now THERE'S one scary ass tree!


----------



## Lars Frehse

Hello Snoweel, good to hear from you again.
At this point, the characters had the following levels (I think).

Ben: Druid lvl 4, Incarnate lvl 3

Torn: Barbarian lvl 1, Rogue lvl 3, Wizard lvl 1, Assassin lvl 2

Trepat Ranger lvl 1, Sorcerer lvl 6

Niklas Monk lvl 7, Psychic Warrior lvl 1

Jan: Paladin lvl 6, Mithril Knight lvl 1

I am lagging five sessions behind with my storyhour, and by now, they have all reached about nine total levels each. And to everybody's surprise, Torn still has merely four jobs.  After the next session, I will take their character sheets again and post their current stats. Thanks for the idea.

Nightfall, it surely is a scary place, but the characters are "lucky" since the crone isn't there...


----------



## Talix

Well, obviously the monk isn't high _enough_ level yet, since I was disappointed that he was affected by the poison.  

I really liked the ambush and stealing scene - I keep trying to picture what would have happened if one of the PCs had cast a hemisphere Wall of Force around the wagon at the last minute.


----------



## Nightfall

I guess you and I have differing ideas of what "lucky" is Lars.  I mean sure it's great the Blood Crone isn't there. She's wipe the floor with all them. But still, you're talking about the WHOLE of the Dar Al Annot being there with hags a plenty, ratmen, possibly even High Gorgons! But hey if they want to assault it, be my guest.


----------



## Lars Frehse

Well, luck is always relative, I guess. And since I had mentioned earlier that now, a few sessions after the events I am describing, the characters are still alive, it is safe to say that they didn't try a frontal assault on the citadel! 

Talix, fortunately, none of the characters had the wall of force spell. Strangely, the adventure gives ideas on how to proceed in case the characters defeat the woodwrack dragon!  I don't have the faintest idea how any group of that level could pull of a stunt like that...


----------



## Lars Frehse

*The heart of darkness- part 3*

Peering past Leral through the opening in the foliage, they finally saw the mighty Citadel of Serpents in all its horrid splendour. There, in the middle of a massive bowl shaped depression, which was surrounded by a ring of foliage in which the heroes were now hiding, rose a tree larger than any of them could have believed existed.

Due to a green mist that spread its pall over the entire area, they weren't able to see the uppermost branches of the enormous plant that rose into the sky like a defiant claw. The sickly mist got thicker in the higher reaches of Annot Kalambath, but the friends were sure that on a cloudy day, the crown would scratch the clouds.

With the massive crown of the tree blocking the sun, and the mist further diffusing the light, the area around the citadel was dark in mid-day. Gazing through the mist, they saw what looked like humanoid bodies hanging from the branches of the trees, high above the ground, and giant scavengers seemed to be feasting on this grisly meal...

 Around the base of the tree was a latticework of lichen bowers, which was grown over with tough, thorny vines and dusty lichens and molds, and the friends were only able to guess just what kind of creatures these bowers were housing.

There was also a network of burrows, which were dug deep into the heartwood of the tree. The friends saw no obvious activity at the moment, but it was clear that they served some sinister purpose for the citadel. Furthermore, there were several enormous thatched mats at regular intervals along the surface of the tree's mighty roots, looking like they were covering entrances to subterranean tunnels within the tree's gigantic root system.

It was a truly depressing sight. It was clear that there was no point in simply storming the citadel. Even though the friends were seasoned veterans by now, they would stand little chances against the masses of foes this gigantic citadel was likely to harbor.

They looked around, trying to find an indication of where they could enter, when Trepat nudged Ben. "There", he said, pointing to a patch of grass next to the closest of the thatched mats. "Do you see the way the grass is pressed down there?“

Ben strained his eyes and then he nodded excitedly:" Yes. There is a rectangular shape. This could have been where they dropped the chest."

They pointed the others to their discovery and Torn agreed to scout ahead in order to check for guards. Close to the entrance, there were three big stakes of woods against which three lifeless bodies had been tied.

Torn moved ahead, his elven cloak hiding him from sight. He moved among the shadows towards the mat, but as he swiftly went past the three stakes, one of the three limp humans jerked to life.

"Help me", he croaked, his voice raw from dehydration. Torn turned around and looked at the dying man. His skin was parched and stretched tightly over his bones and he looked pleadingly at the halforc from eyes which were set back deep in their sockets.

Torn stayed suspicious:" Why were you put here?"

"I am Boaz, and I was a guard, and after servants of Denev had entered the citadel, I and my friends were put out here to die of thirst. If you don't help me, I will end like my friends.“

"All right, then", Torn said. He stayed cautious, but even if the former guard had bad intentions, he was surely too worn down to be of any harm. And even if he would turn out to be a threat, Torn felt he had no choice but to free the man. Even though Torn was an assassin, he didn't enjoy seeing a suffering creature. When he killed, he did so swiftly. He was a murderer, but no sadist.

He cut the man lose, and the moment the strands of roped dropped to the ground, Boaz went berserk and attacked Torn with his long, dirty nails. Torn fought back, and with the help of his friends, who came running from their hiding place, he defeated the ghoulish creature.

Boaz lay on the ground, now finally put to rest, and Ben quipped:" Now that we are all here anyway, we might as well go under the mat together as well."

They raised the map and looked into a dank earthen corridor, which was poorly lit and measured less than five feet across. The tunnel twisted and descended erratically, following the shape of the peripheral roots of the tree.

Some of the finer roots had been hollowed out, and they worked as a ventilation system. However, there was an additional effect as well. The moment the friends crawled into the tunnel, they heard the far cries of prisoners who were held somewhere in the tree. As they crawled deeper and deeper, they all tried to block out the echoes of the shrieks, moans and sobs of the poor souls somewhere else in Annot Kalambath.

Then, just when they thought they couldn't bear it any longer, the tunnel opened into a large, irregular shaped chamber, where the voices of the tortured ones were hardly audible anymore. The smell of foliage and damp soil was more pronounced here and a gorgeous eave of vine dangled over the entrance through which they came.

Except for one patch of solid rock, all of the walls, like the ceiling, were covered with overgrown roots, brambles and vines and there were four exits on the other side of the room. The one patch of rock that wasn't overgrown depicted a well-rendered mural of Mormo. It showed the witch-queen towering over all the major races of Scarn. In one hand, she held a wicked scourge and in the other an enormous brass key, and the twin eyes of her eyes were the only source of light, suffusing the entire area in a dim pall of unearthly green light.

Slowly they went ahead towards the four exits, as Trepat noticed that there was neither earth nor rocks behind the brambles to his left. He told his friends, and Ben said:" I think I can pass through the overgrowth without disturbing it and take a look at whatever is behind..."


----------



## Nightfall

Well they got in the back way...let's hope no one notices them.


----------



## Talix

So much for charity in the home of the enemy!    Oh well.

This certainly seems like an exciting infiltration!


----------



## Lars Frehse

Well, the poor undead really had no choice but to follow his nature. But in the afterworld, Torn's act of charity will surely be considered.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*The heart of darkness- part 4 of 4*

Using his druidic powers, Ben walked at the wall of thorns and, twisting slightly sideways, he passed through it as if there were no barrier at all.

He stood in an earthen corridor that ran parallel to the room he had just been in. At its end, there was a small, natural stairway that consisted of big roots that spiralled their way down deep under the ground. However, all he found down there was another corridor which ended at a point where it had collapsed, and the masses of earth, rocks and roots made it impassable even for him.

Back with his friends, they decided to take a look around. The first exit of the big room lead to a much smaller one, which looked like a smelly, damp and messy bedroom. A casual glance didn't make the room look like there was anything the friends were looking for, and since they felt that time was running out, they headed to the next room.

This one looked different, and a short glance gave them all the impression that it served for a sinister combination. Most of the room was filled with vile instruments of torture. A wall rack contained several whips, scourges, thumbscrews, eyehooks, prods, pincers and knives of every kind and there were even more instruments of tortures on tables in the room. The sight was shocking enough, but what was truly sickening was that the table that obviously served as a place to fixate the victims had lastly been used as a dinner table. There were still scraps of cooked meat on it, and the friends didn't dare check just what kind of meat it was...

In the northeast corner of the room, there was another passage that lead down. They peered down, but it was too deep for them to see anything. However, they saw that there were enough foot- and handholds for them to easily climb down there. 

"Let's look around in the other rooms up here, first", Torn said, "I have a bad feeling about this passage."

For the heroes, a hunch was good enough by now. The many lethal situations they had survived together ever since they had left Durrover had taught them that acting according to hunches can often save lives...

They walked back into the main room. Of the four visible corridors, they had now checked out two. They entered the next one, which was about fifty feet long and then found themselves in a large, vaguely hemispherical chamber about 25 feet wide. A dozen cots lined the far wall and the stench of human filth was nearly overpowering. 

In the middle of the room stood an enormous three-legged cauldron made of iron. The legs were fashioned in the form of snakes and the coals beneath were still spreading warmth, as if not too long ago they had been glowing brightly. A long wooden ladle protruded from it's open top and the green-greyish liquid within was quietly bubbling away.

Appalled by the stench and weary from what they had seen so far, none of the friends dared taking a closer look at the pot or anything else in the room and they turned around again. They went into the remaining corridor, which lead into a room with a wooden door set in the northern wall, the first door they had seen in Annot Kalambath so far.

On one wall there were three sets of manacles and a small wooden table was leaning against the other wall. The table was covered with what looked like a bunch of rubbish and a scroll case. Seeing it, Torn immediately grabbed it and opened it- and really, there was the scroll with the ritual inside.

"Only one more to go", Torn said. He silently thanked Erias and pocketed the scroll into his bag of holding, and only then did he take the time to take a proper look at the rest of the room.

Next to the wall, there was another scroll set into the wall. On it, there were several numbers in titan speech, which were faintly glowing. In the door, there was a small round mirror, which didn't reflect any light, and after some fiddling around, the friends figured out that there was a connection between the mirror and the numbers on the wall. Whenever a number would be pronounced, the mirror would show the interior of one of the cells behind the door.

All of the cells were empty, but in one, there was an elvish woman.

Fortunately, the front door wasn't locked but merely barred, and after removing the bar, they found themselves in a small corridor with seven similarly barred doors. There were no numbers on the doors, so they had to open the cells randomly, at first finding nothing but the same old straw and wooden cots.

After tearing open the fifth door, however, Jan saw the woman. She had stringy brown hair and terrified, pale eyes. Upon seeing Jan, she shrieked and scuttled backwards to the rear wall of her cell.

Jan rose his hands, indicating his good intentions, and after a little while in which Jan calmly told her that they would help her, she said:" You are right. The others don't wear shiny armour. Or have any symbols of gods with him.“

She got up and greedily accepted the friends' offer of food and water. After she had taken care of her immediate needs, she introduced herself as Mina, and she told them that she had been kidnapped by a Dar Al Annot patrol when she had left her village in order to get some rare berries. In return, Jan told her that they were here on an important mission and that their steeds were waiting outside.

"I think it would be safest if you stay behind us", Jan said. "But for the meantime, I have some extra protection for you".

He put down his backpack, and after a short while he pulled out what looked like a rolled up shirt that was shining a little in the lamplight. As he unrolled it, it soon turned out to be no ordinary shirt- it was a mithril chain shirt.

He handed it to Mina when he suddenly felt Torn's huge hand on his shoulder. The half-orc pulled him around, and when Jan was facing him, his face was merely inches away from the human's and he snarled:" You have a mithril-chain shirt?"

"Sure. I bought it a while ago back in Mithril. I thought it would be good to have it to wear under my night clothing. This way, I am protected when we are attacked at night.“ Jan answered, puzzled by Torn's anger.

" I am wearing this stinking leatherarmor day in and day out. And I have to wear it during the day as well. And you have a mithril shirt as a night-shirt?“ Torn said and now the veins in his neck were bulging as the blood was pumping faster and faster through his veins.

"Calm down, please", Mina said pleadingly, but Torn had already stepped back a little and before anybody could react, he was holding his assassin's crossbow in his hand and shot at the Paladin. His bolt hit between the plates of arm and shoulder and Jan screamed out.

"What the hell is wrong with you?“ he shouted, still not ready to attack his companion. Torn himself seemed puzzled about his sudden anger, but before he could apologize, he heard Trepat, who stood behind Jan say:" Quit your whining, cry-baby".

The next instant, Trepat's scimitar bounced back from the armour. Mina, who looked worried, turned around and shouted: "I will wait for you outside by your steeds!"

Everybody was confused and they were eyeing each other suspiciously, and Ben cast a spell that made all the roots entangle everyone, keeping them from further hurting each other.

While they were entangled, both Trepat and Torn excused themselves. Neither of them knew what had made them attack Jan in this way, even though Torn was still sore about the mithril-shirt.

When the spell was over, Ben announced:" All right. From now on we cannot afford any more fooling around. We shouldn't do the Dar Al Annot's work for them, after all..."


----------



## Nightfall

Strife elemental. You know I love it.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Out of the fryinp pan- part 1*

When they had calmed down, there was only one way left to explore, and that was the shaft that lead down. Swallowing his apprehension, Torn went first, using the many branches as foot- and handholds. 

As he climbed down the small shaft, he heard a humming and chanting from below. The chanting rose in volume, and after a while, he could make out the flickering light and shadows of large fires shining into the shaft.

Upon reaching the ground, he turned around and found himself in a gigantic chamber, which was over one hundred feet in diameter wide. On the far wall, there was a huge construct made of wicker. It was shaped like a giant and apparently, it was hollow and from the way it looked, it was filled with prisoners. Here and there, Torn could make out a human face or limb.

Two dozen cultists were gathered around the wicker man, performing some cruel ritual that would undoubtedly climax in setting the wicker man on fire- thus turning all within into a sacrifice for their mistress Mormo. Fortunately for Torn, all of the cultist's eyes were turned towards the wicker man and away from him.

He signalled Jan, who was above him and in the process of coming down. After a silent exchange, Jan went back up and Torn followed him. Up in the torture chamber, he told his friends what he had seen, finishing: "There were too many of the cultists. Even with surprise on our side, I doubt that we could win a fight against all of them. Maybe we should check out the corridor Ben had examined again. I just can't believe that the cultists would hide a corridor that leads nowhere..."

"But Piridur could be one of the victims", Niklas said.

"We don't need Piridur anymore", Torn answered and after padding on his bag of holding, he added:" We already have the ritual."

Niklas wasn't ready to let the matter drop: "Maybe Trepat could at least use his lightning to end the suffering of the ones caught in the wicker man, then."

"And in return, we will be dead as well. Great.“ Ben answered and then everyone was talking at once. Niklas and Jan argued in favor of attacking the druids and the others didn't want to endanger their lives and their mission, since for them, the only advantage they had was that the cultists were busy. Once they would have to fight the cultists, they would fail...

In the end, Niklas and Jan agreed to go along with the rest of the group. They hacked their way through the wall of brambles and then went down that corridor. They looked at the part of the corridor below where it had collapsed, when Trepat noticed that there was something strange about the wall at the corner where it took a turn to the right.

The wall looked unnaturally smooth here, and when he touched it, he noticed that it seemed to be made of wood. He called for Torn who looked at it with his magical instruments, figuring out that this was really a magical door. After a little while, he had opened it, paving the way to a vaguely oval-shaped chamber.

The whole room was empty, except for one item. In the middle of the room, lying on the wooden floor, which was made mostly of roots and thorns, seemingly unguarded, was the serpent amphora, resting easily in an open chest.

Carefully, and still not entering the room, Torn looked around for telltale signs of traps, but there was nothing suspicious to be seen. Of course the fact that this artifact was simply laying around was suspicious in itself. But then again, the ritual had been similarly lying around. Maybe the cultists considered their citadel and the Hornsaw to offer sufficient protection for the artefact.

But all that didn't really matter. After all, they had little choice, and so Torn entered the room, intent on picking up the amphora. The moment he stepped inside, however, the small cavern changed. Within an instant, the chest had sunk into the floor and its place a giant maw filled with razor sharp branches and long thorns manifested itself.

The tendrils lashed at Torn, injuring him, as he scrambled backwards over the now living ground. The maw tried to swallow him, but he rolled out of the maw's reach just in time. Standing on his feet again, he used his chain to slash at everything in the room that seemed to live now. In the background, Jan saw that this room seemed to be a nexus of the evil essence that was present everywhere in the citadel.

They attacked the tendrils and the maw with all they had, but the plants showed a surprising power of regeneration, quickly healing the wounds that the friends struck. The Nexus itself fought like a force of nature, attacking everyone in the room.

After a while, Torn had to retreat since he was badly wounded and feared that the next hit could be his end, and after that Jan followed. As Ben and Jan healed the two, only Niklas was left in the room and Trepat shot lightning bolts into the maw from the entrance.

As Jan and Torn charged back into the living room, Ben aided with magical stones. A lot of the plant mass had been chopped away by now, and there were bits of roots and earth everywhere. Then, as Torn hit it viciously into the center, the central maw yawned wide and the room shuddered in it's death throes. A moment later, it spit out the amphora, which Niklas caught in mid-flight.

They were sure that the cultists would soon come upon them and so they all ran to the exit. Just then, they heard a loud roaring and smashing noise through the wall. They were on the same level as the wicker man, and as the Nexus was destroyed, the cultists had lost their grip on the ritual. The wicker man, in return was running amok now, fuelled by the dying spirit of Piridur within who used this fiery construct as a means to defy his enemies and help his friends.

Upstairs, Trepat took Torn, and instead of running straight for the entrance, they turned right and tumbled the large table over the shaft that lead down to where the cultists where now fighting the out-of-control wicker man. Then they threw all items that seemed heavy enough on a hastily built pile, which further pressed down the makeshift barrier.

Ben had changed into his spiderform and together with Niklas, he ran for the exit. Just as they reached the dangling roots in front of the exit, those roots grabbed for them. Both dodged the suddenly agile plants, but one root wrapped itself around Jan's neck, as the paladin came after them.

Immediately, the roots pulled him up, letting him dangle like a poor soul on the gallows.


----------



## Nightfall

It's coming!!  The climax and end are near!


----------



## Nightfall

Well maybe not the actual climax...since I now got the module.  But still I think people will sincerely enjoy THIS part after the return. All I have to say is Woodwracks, cultists and Titan's Blood oh my!


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Out of the frying pan- part 2*

Coming out of the corridor, Trepat saw the Paladin dangle, his head getting red, and with one fluid motion, he pulled out his bow and shot the vine, cutting it. Jan crashed to the floor and as Trepat and Torn caught up, he scrambled back to his feet and jumped into the exit tunnel.

Outside, they all ran for the bushes where the sentinel and their steeds were waiting. Outside, under the shadow of the giant tree, there was no visible activity yet. The heroes didn't know that, but the wickerman was right then killing all of the druids in that part of the citadel, and it would take hours till any alarm would ring.

Still, they moved as hurriedly as possible, pulling their animals by their reigns. Lead by Leral, and with Mina in their tow, they soon started bickering again. Old sores broke out and soon everybody was airing everything that annoyed them about their companions. They were all friends, of course, but since they had spent so much time closely together for so long now, each of them had issues with everyone else. Those issues were all rather irrelevant, like how the other one ate, or the stupidity of his behaviour or how the other one breathed at night.

But now those little things grew and grew in the minds of everyone involved- right then when they should be busy getting out of the grasp of the Dar Al Annot. Just when the first blows were about to fly, Mina shouted and got everyone's attention for the moment being.

"Enough", she screamed and threw Jan's chain shirt to the ground. Now, she was standing merely in her linen, and she continued, calmer now:" I thank you for what you have done for me. But now, I have to leave you. Believe me it is for your own best."

She smiled shyly one last time, and then turned into fog. Before any of the friends could react, the fog was whirled around by a tiny vortex and then disappeared in a flash of light.

They all stood stunned for a moment, staring at the empty bit of forest where the elf had stood, and then they turned to each other, intend on continuing their debate, but the fight had gone out of them. It was almost as if their strife had been connected to Mina and gone with her.

For a minute, no one said a word. But then Trepat broke the silence:" I think I know what she was. I once read about a kind of elemental that doesn't consist of a material element but of condensed emotions. One of those were called "Strife Elemental" and they spread the negative emotion they are made of..."

"And you think Mina was such a Strife-Elemental?“ Torn asked.

Trepat nodded:" Yes. Either that or you and me are really out to kill Jan. And I can say about myself that that isn't the case..."

They all knew that it was vital for them to get as far away from the citadel as possible before Nightfall, and so they marched on, their comradeship restored.

Thanks to their guide, they made it to the border of the forest with only one encounter, when several trolls attacked them. But apart from that, she lead them with an almost uncanny precision past all dangers and away from their enemies of the Dar Al Annot.

After a week, they had reached the border of the forest again, and she said:" Now all you have to do is head north. In a few days, you will be back in the Ganjus".

The friends wanted to thank her, but already she had turned around and disappeared between the trees. She certainly had helped them, but in a way, they were all glad that she was gone now. After all, she just wasn't a very likeable person.

It was around noon then, and the friends decided to get as far out into the hills as possible. Even though they were entering badlands now, they were only too glad to leave the Hornsaw and it's horrid deformations behind. 

It was in the late afternoon when the heat of the day was being swept away by a cold breeze and the first fat drop of rain splashed on Niklas' nose. Soon, the one drop was followed by many and dark clouds were racing over the sky.

"Oh, no...“ Niklas said, and looking how his friends were dismounting, unsheathing their weapons and casting spells in preparation for an upcoming battle, he knew that he didn't need to tell them that he had the feeling that they would be visited by the storm-hag again.

Just as he swung himself from his horse all other sounds were drowned out in a sudden, near deafening clap of thunder and a massive bolt of lightning slammed down between the monk and his brother. Jan's horse was tossed to the side and the paladin himself was thrown of it, landing on the ground a few feet away. Niklas had been taken by surprise as well, and he too was thrown back and badly fried.

Lying on his back, he kept his eyes closed for a moment, his mind focused on ignoring the pain that every fibre of his body was experiencing. Right then, he heard it: in spite of the noise and uproar of the storm, there was the mad, screaming cackle of the hag.

Niklas jumped up back on his feet and opened his eyes. There she was, swooping from the clouds, but still much too high for him to reach her. Trepat shot a bolt of acid-lightning at her, as three manta-like creatures came down from the clouds as well.

As the creatures flew down towards Jan, seemingly attracted by his metal-armour, Torn downed his potion of flight. As the magic of the potion began to work, he took of and rose through the storm, his crossbow ready. 

The name of the hag was Hielaa. Over and over again, the godspawn had messed with her plans, and for some strange reason, they were still alive. At least when she had sunk their ship, she should have killed at least some of them, but now they were all there again.

However, this meant that now she could get her revenge, and regain the serpent amphora as well. The puny godspeople had little means to fight her as long as she stayed high above, and she still had her lightning javelins. There was this elvish sorcerer, but the ice storm she had just summoned should take care of him.

Suddenly, a bolt hit Hielaa, and she saw one of her enemies, the halforc, flying up to her. Seeing that he was already pulling out his spiked chain as he was approaching, she cast a spell to dispel the magic that allowed the halforc to fly.

The spell worked, and she cackled contently as the half orc fell helplessly towards the ground 80 feet below him…


----------



## Nightfall

Hehehee... You capitalized Nightfall...when it's not referring to me!  But yeah! Fight time! Hieela is going down! (We hope...)


----------



## Talix

Yikes, intelligent enemies!  

Lookin' good so far!  The Strife Elemental was pretty cool.


----------



## Lars Frehse

Thanks!
I haven't had any updates lately, since I am on vacation and spent a lot of time with my wife, but from tomorrow on, I will post new updates.


----------



## Kiracat

*New updates?*

Tease.


----------



## Nightfall

I'm sure Lars is just enjoying a vacation before he starts posting.


----------



## Lars Frehse

Sorry it took me so long.  

But as Nightfall had guessed, I am still on vacation, even though I am at home. We had been to Heidelberg and spend the rest of our vacation here at home in Hamburg. But for the first time in a year, my wife and me had plenty of time off together, and so we spent the weeks together, enjoying just being close to each other. 

But here is a new update!


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Out of the frying pan- part 3 of 4*

As Torn plummeted to the ground, Hielaa saw her thunderkites attack the Paladin. Even though he cut one of the small elementals down, they discharged their electric charge into him, which proved to be too much for his already tortured body, and he collapsed to the ground.

Right then, Niklas jumped forward and fought the thunderkites. The magical snowstorm had subsided and Ben healed Trepat, who was unconscious as well. Back on his feet, the sorcerer cast another bolt of acid lightning at Hielaa, just as she created an ice storm down on the ground.

The magical storm froze Trepat to the bones and he was pummelled by the hailstorm. He felt like blacking out, but above, he saw the shape of the hag, and he summoned all his inner strength to stay conscious. Once more, he focused his magical energies to summon another acid lightning, but he never saw it hitting it’s target since at the moment when the spell worked, he felt like he was falling into a deep, black well and his body dropped to the ground.

He didn’t know how long he had been out, but when he came back, it was still raining, his friends were surrounded around him and Ben’s face was there right above his own. “You did it! You killed the witch”, the halfling said.

Trepat raised his head, and still lying on his back in a puddle of mud, he looked around. Somewhere in the back, he saw the carcass of Hielaa and all his friends were wounded. At least they would live for now, and he felt that their lives have just gotten a little bit safer.

They rode a little further and then settled down for the night in a small cave, which was hidden in the side of a hill. On the next morning, they took further care of their wounds and continued their trek through the Haggard Hills to the Ganjus.

The journey wasn’t easy but it was mostly uneventful. The small animals and raptors they had seen on their way to the Ganjus were gone and there wasn’t even the buzz of insects in the air anymore. It almost felt as if the land of the Haggard Hills was holding its breath.

After four days, they finally saw the first treetops of the Ganjus protruding above and between the hills. At last, the safety of the Ganjus was in sight again, and Trepat lazily turned around on his horse to get a final look at the bad lands they had left behind. He shielded his eyes with his hand from the glare of the sun, as he noticed something peculiar. It almost looked as if there was something in the sun.

He clenched his eyes together, and through the little slit that was left, he saw that there was indeed something. Whatever it was, it was huge and it was flying towards them…

“Quick! Something is after us”, he shouted and after his friends had looked over the shoulder, they too dug their heels into the sides of their steeds and rode as quick as they could, with the only exception of Niklas, who was running, since he was faster on foot then on horseback.

They raced towards the sanctuary of the Ganjus, but looking over their shoulders, they saw that the creature was catching up, and now it was even close enough for them to recognize their pursuer. It was a woodwrackdragon, probably the same one who had stolen the Amphora with Hielaa.

Now that they realized the danger they were in, the border of the forest, which had seemed so close just moments ago, seemed to be much too far away. Frantically, they pushed their steeds on, but the parched earth and rock beneath them was treacherous, and they had to be extra careful to avoid tripping or falling.

As the barren hills flew past them, they were soon riding in a giant cloud of dust, and everyone was inhaling the dirt those in front of them were whirling up. And still, with each hill they climbed, the forest hardly seemed to be getting any closer, while the dragon in their back was catching up.

Just as they struggled up the final hill that separated them from the forest, Torn was able to make out the sound of the giant beast’s wing over the thunder of their hooves, and as he whipped his head around, he saw how the dragon was exhaling lighting! The next moment, he felt the world around him explode in thunder and light, and when he opened his eyes again, he saw that his horse had turned into charred meat beneath him. 

The dragon was now really close, but Torn knew that there was no point in fighting it, and so he turned and ran on his feet, hoping to join his friends who had already reached the forest. Just then, when he was sure that this was the end, something happened that turned the tables again.

Suddenly, everything seemed to be buzzing, as swarms of biting and stinging insects and birds shot out of the forest and attacked the dragon, who disappeared in this living cloud within moments. As Torn ran on to the forest, he saw fire raining from the sky, impacting on the vaguely visible shape in the cloud.

He reached the first trees, and saw how the cloud moved away and the weakened dragon eventually broke lose and flew back into the direction of the Hornsaw forest.

Now Torn felt the deep exhaustion and fatigue and he supported himself with one arm against a tree as he bent forward to breathe deeply and greedily. When he looked up again, he saw that he and his friends weren’t alone. With them were several elven druids, who had just saved their lives.

One of them, a grim looking elf who was garbed in a robe and only equipped with a long staff, a sickle and some mistletoe hanging from his belt, stepped forward:” As Tamlaine promised, we have awaited your coming. I greet you in the name of the Jordeh and the elves of Vera-Tre. I am called Enascine”.

“Is Tamlaine near, as well?“ Ben asked.

Enascine shook his head, his eyes darkened by a cloud of worry: “ Her injuries were quite severe. Fortunately, she is slowly recovering, but she is not well enough to meet you herself.

“At least you have all returned safely. We will take you deep into the Ganjus, to the place of power. Only there can that…, that _thing_ you brought with you be destroyed”.


----------



## Nightfall

Yes!  Hieela is dead! I always disliked that witch. But in any case folks if you think the worst is over...you'd be surprised.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Out of the frying pan - part 4 of 5*

Their journey through the Ganjus took several days. After all the horrors that lay behind them, the friends were grateful for the relative ease of this journey. After all, there would be no titanspawn lurking in the shadow or fiendish beasts preying on them in the realm of the Earthmother.

Eventually, they reached a tightly packed cluster of trees that formed the walls and beams of a small hut. Around it, the ground was littered with fallen leaves and branches, indicating that this place hadn't been in use in a long time.

"This is as far as we can take you," Enascine told them. "We must proceed alone from here with the Amphora, for non-Jordeh would weaken the power of the ritual. Meanwhile, I would like to ask you for one final service: To act as our guards.

"This path here, past this hut, is the only easy route into the grove. It is vital that you won't allow anyone to pass. Even though we are deep in the Ganjus, the servants of the Serpentmother may be desperate enough to venture even here- just like you have ventured into the realm of their realm. I fear they could try to disrupt the ritual and regain possession of the Amphora once again."

The friends nodded, indicating their agreement. The forest was beautiful and peaceful, making it hard to believe that titanspawn would venture here. But like Enascine had indicated, they too had dared to enter the heart of the lair of the followers of the Serpent-mother. Their enemy might just do the same thing.

With a final wish for good fortune and Denev's blessing, the elves went into the woods to the north, and the friends settled down for their watch. For hours, the friends noticed nothing bigger or more threatening than an occasional squirrel, until, just as the evening was about to fall, there was movement between the trees.

Ben and Niklas were on watch, and the movement didn't come from the south, from where they would have expected any enemies to approach, but from the north, where the druids had gone. The incarnate and the monk got up and several of the Jordeh staggered out of the woods towards the hut. They were all badly burned, their flesh blackened and their clothes scarred.

Ben called for the rest of his companions in the hut, and Niklas stepped forward to support a collapsing elf-maid who had been beautiful before something had cooked her flesh and burned away her clothes. In a flash, Niklas remembered the name of the woman he was holding: Jahana.

"We were betrayed", she rasped. "Enascine must have been corrupted. He... He told us to gather in one spot and pray to Denev while he cast a spell to summon our brethren. But he lied! He called down fire upon us!

She looked like she was about to break down crying, but then she forced herself to go on:“ Some of us were killed right away, and we others were badly injured. Before we were able to do anything at all, he had taken the Amphora and merged with the great oak in the centre of the grove to which he had led us."

Ben was shocked. In all of the lives he had lived, which he could remember, there had never been a betrayal by a servant of Denev. Surely this was without precedence. "Where did he go?“ he asked.

Jahana wipe her tears from her cheek with her dirty sleeve, smearing ash over her burnt face: "I don't know. I think the only thing we can do now is contact Tamlaine. We did not wish to disturb her until she has fully recovered, but we have no choice now. At least we know that she can be trusted".

Ignoring the pain and agony of their abused bodies, the Jordeh gathered and prayed aloud. After a short moment, a small flock of birds descended into the clearing, landing on outstretched arms.

The Jordeh attached small pieces of parchment with messages to the birds' legs and whispered into their ears. Then, with a shake of their wrist and a bit of prayer, they sent them flying again, and all of the birds turned eastwards.

"Now," Jahana said, "there is nothing we can do but wait".

All of the friends felt uneasy. Minutes felt like hours as they waited. After all, every minute Enascine had the Amphora could be one minute too many, since it was impossible to tell what the traitor was planning while they were doing nothing. 

An hour passed, and the sun was setting, as finally Tamlaine stepped out of one of the trees. There were no signs of the injuries inflicted upon her by the woodwrack dragon and she was furious.

“Why did you not summon me when you went to meet our guests?“ she asked Jahana angrily. “I might have prevented this!”

The elven maiden jumped up: “Enascine had told us that you were still recovering and too weak to travel!”

Tamlaine nodded, her fury transforming into cold determination: “Another of his lies. I have been fine for days now. I still cannot believe that one of our own would betray us like that, but he shall pay for this. I have sent messages to my brethren. They will soon join us.“

She paused shortly, and after a deep sigh, she continued: “The bringers of autumn, a sect of Mormo worshippers, have corrupted a small number of Jordeh to their ways of thinking, and it looks like Enascine would be one of those traitors. Their leader, the autumn king, may already be in possession of the Amphora.”

“Do you think that it is possible that this sect had worked against the Dar Al Annot at times?“ Torn asked.

Tamlaine shrugged:” It is possible. The Autumn King has often acted in ways, which seemed contrary to the goals of Mormo. And maybe he wanted the Amphora for himself to gain special favours from his mistress. Why do you ask?”

Torn told her about the time when the strange woman, who had smelled like sandalwood had helped them in Lageni when they had been on their quest to gain the ritual that would destroy the amphora. Her described the skeletons which had been animated by vines, which had cleared the path at the entrance of Marilvaz’ tomb, Tamlaine interrupted him.

“The constructs you are describing are vinedead, and they are creations of the Bringers of Autumn. It really looks like agents of the Bringers of Autumn had aided you in the past in order to gain the ritual. I don’t know why they had done it, but this can’t be good…”

While they were talking, the grove filled with druids. Some stepped out of trees, some came in flying as birds and changed into their elven form them and some came in walking on foot. All in all, about two dozen druids arrived this way, filling up the grove.

A grizzled, thick bearded old man, clad in leather armour and a heavy cloak, stepped forward to Tamlaine and the companions. Unlike the other Jordeh, he was no elf, but a half-elf.

With a noise that sounded like rocks grinding against each other, he cleared his throat: “We came as swiftly as we could, sister. I am afraid we can tell you where the traitor has gone. He has gone to the Grove of the Mother, and even Denev knows not what he may do there!”

Tamlaine turned pale and turned to the friends:” We need your help more than ever now. But first you have to take an oath to not reveal what you are about to hear.”

All of the companions did so, feeling the sincerity and importance of her request, and she continued: “The Grove of the Mother is the spot where Denev had returned, exhausted, to the earth in the aftermath of the Titan War. If the Amphora is destroyed there, Mormo’s corruption will be released into the soil where Denev slumbers. I cannot imagine what will happen then. Maybe nothing. But they may poison the essence of Denev herself.”

She paused for a moment, scanning the friends’ faces to make sure that they were fully aware of the significance of her words: “It could be even worse, though. If they succeed in pouring Mormo’s essence into Denev’s sleeping form, the consequence would be the death of the Earth Mother and the resurrection of the Serpent Queen!”


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Out of the frying pan- part 4 of 5*

There was no time to lose. The druids and the adventurers set out on foot, since the Grove was protected by special magic that made strangers turn away and prohibited any magical means of transportations. Night had fallen, and they were marching through the darkness, the humans and the halfling being led by those with nightvision.

Around midnight, the trees cleared and the druids and the heroes stood before a magnificent site. The Grove of the mother was a vast expanse of greenery, surrounded by the most ancient of boles, shaded by leaves of the deepest green. The entire area was illuminated by small magical flames that flickered from many of the surrounding trees and the grass was almost unnaturally lush, the soil soft. 

In the centre of the grove, about 300 feet from its fringe, surrounded by rock, there was a small pool, which was fed by a small stream. The stream and pool, which normally were filled with the purest and clearest water, were tainted, however. The corpses of several elven druids were scattered about, their blood tainting the water. Thirteen men and women were surrounding the pool, garbed in ceremonial robes of deepest crimson and darkest green and their voices rose and fell in a chant of hypnotic rhythms.

Stunned for a moment, the Jordeh and the friends noticed Enascine at the edge of the pool. He held a dagger in his bloody fist and he was about to cut the throat of a Medusa who had had her eyes ripped out already. With one swift motion he cut her throat, and the only thing that prevented her from falling into the pond, in which there were already two corpses of two of her kind, was his iron grip on her snake-hair.

At the edge of the pool sat the Amphora, and as the blood of the third medusa dripped into the pool, and the bloodied water lapped against the Amphora's base, the artefact gave a great toll with the sound of a tree splitting beneath the woodman's axe, as of a bell under great strain.

"We must attack now!" Tamlaine whispered. "The ritual is but moments away from completion. It requires eleven of them to complete it, so we only need to defeat three. If they..."

Just then, the medusa's blood entered the first of the minute cracks of the Amphora, and all around the companions, the very earth screamed out in agony.

In the centre of the grove beside the pool, the earth itself buckled outward and an enormous rock breached the surface. The earth shook, and the rock spread itself, forming into fingers and a thumb. "It's Denev's hand", Ben shouted in disbelief over the rumbling of the earth, as he remembered he form from one of his previous incarnations. 

Ben felt nauseated, and all around, he saw the Jordeh falling to the earth, their bodies writhing and thrashing. Many began vomiting putrid and clotted gouts of flesh. Their flesh bulged, and with growing horror, the friends saw hideous serpentine shapes moving beneath the Jordehs' skin. Niklas and Torn charged ahead at the two robed humanoids, which stood between themselves and the pool, and Jan rode ahead on horseback, as Trepat and Ben started casting spells.

Meanwhile, snakes rose from the earth besides the amphora and moved to the gaping hole from which the hand was rising. Then, Jan had impaled one of the hooded humanoids with his lance, killing it instantly, and as the hood fell from the head, he saw that the guard he had just defeated was a medusa as well.

The other one turned around while the thirteen in the background were still chanting, and Jan shouted a warning. Right then Niklas, who was running faster than a horse, had reached the remaining medusa, and turning away his gaze, he kicked her right in the centre. The aberration was tossed backwards, and suddenly, Torn appeared in her back and cut through her spine with his axe.

As the second medusa crashed to the ground, the stony skin of Denev's hand turned to mottled green scales. The air grew hot and heavy, and the stench of diseased meat permeated the grove. Just then, all of the friends heard a deep feminine voice in the back of their minds. It was a powerful voice, the voice of a titan, and quivering in pain, the voice uttered two words: "Help me!"

Two of the druids turned around, and as they cast a spell, two giant snakes appeared in front of Torn, Niklas and Jan. In the back, Trepat, who had turned Torn invisible before, cast an acid arrow, which hit one of the remaining eleven casters. For a moment, the traitorous druid was distracted by the injury of the burning acid and for the shortest moment, he lost his concentration, and mispronounced one syllable.

It was the tiniest error in his chanting, but in effect, one mispronounced syllable changed everything. All of the friends fell to their knees, instinctively covering their ears with their hands, as a deafening, high pitched screech reverberated out the deep pit in the centre of the grove. The blood of the medusas erupted out of the water, flying towards the Amphora, and the relic shuddered as the surviving essence of Mormo tried to get back in.

For a few heartbeats, the Amphora shrunk and expanded as if it was a heart itself, before it exploded into nothing more substantial than dust. Mormo's blood swirled around a little longer and then sunk harmlessly into the soil.

The Jordeh ceased their thrashing and vomiting and rose to their feet, no longer tainted by Mormo's essence, whereas the Bringers of Autumn now collapsed, screaming in agony as their physical existence ended and their souls were already racing to hell. In the middle of all this stood Enascine, his arms hanging limp on his sides, and he stared around with wide eyes and an expression of utter disbelief.

The titan's hand protruding from the earth flexed once, and the scales that had covered it shattered and fell to the earth, where they swiftly decayed. The hand submerged, and the grove once again regained its tranquillity as the gaping hole closed. Immediately, new grass began to grow with supernatural speed on the upturned soil, and within moments, all indications of anything unusual at that spot had disappeared.

A cool breeze washed over the Jordeh and the heroes and it blew away all their pains and worries, scattered like a morning mist. Even there wounds were gone, and they all felt relaxed, rested and clean.

There was no haste now, and as the friends intensely felt their joy and appreciation of life, the earth began to shake once more, although with less force, as a walking tree, which was about fifty feet tall stepped into the clearing. Its face was almost hidden under moss and it glared directly at Enascine who was now cowering besides the pool.

"You don't understand!" he cried out with a breaking voice. "The natural order must be restored! The titans must rise again and the great cycle has to continue! It's nature! It's what you have taught me! It's what you want!"

As the tree shook it's crown in a slow, sad gesture, he turned to the companions, who had been joined by the now fully recovered Jordeh and addressed them with his deep, sonorous voice: "I must implore your forgiveness, Blessed Ones of the Mother and Jordeh both. I have taught him poorly. His errors are my errors."

His largest branches sank to the ground as though his shoulders slumped: "And now I would beg of you to leave me in privacy so that I can do what has to be done."

Touched by the boundless sadness of the noble being in front of them, the friends left the grove with the Jordeh. None of them looked back as they heard the screams of an elf. Neither did they look back when the screams suddenly stopped. And only when they heard the crackling of fire in their back and saw the trees weeping silently around them did Niklas glance over his shoulder to see a faint orange glow over the location of the grove.

They had fulfilled their mission, but none of them felt like celebrating.


----------



## Nightfall

Yes!  The good guys won! And now they can rejoice at being heroes...even if it's a Pyhrric victory of sorts.


----------



## Lars Frehse

And with that, the Serpent Amphora cycle ends. I wonder whether S&S will publish a high level trilogy any time soon, so that I can run my characters through that one, as well.


----------



## Nightfall

Not sure Lars, but if they do, I'll let you know.  Hopefully now you can continue onwards. Perhaps lead them to even greater glory fighting the pirates of the Blood Sea or perhaps searching for ancient Slacerian ruins in the Plains of Lede.


----------



## Red Baron

Hm... where to now, then?


----------



## Lars Frehse

> Hm... where to now, then?




For now, its back into the Hornsaw!


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Back into hell- part 1*

In the Ganjus, days go by like a dream and sleep comes like a drug. Days passed by pleasantly, and the friends were invited to the elves' festival of summer.

Trepat, who had talked to a lot of elves during those days, decided that he had to go to Vera Tre, the capitol of the Ganjus and the centre of elven life and culture. He had already heard that many survivors of the Bloodrains woods had come there after the Blood monsoon. 

Forty years ago, Trepat's home had been destroyed by the monsoon. Many elves were drowned right then, or killed by the abominations, which had come out of the sea. But others, like him, had somehow survived. However, back then, he had been separated from the others of his clan, the Redleaves. 

For the next decade, he had lived in the lands of man, working whatever job enabled him to get by, until he had been hired as a guard in the village of Oreirover. There, he had found a new purpose in his life, when he had saved three kids from the Calastians and discovered his own potential to master arcane magic.

Ever since then, he had found new friends and new tasks for his life. Having been accepted by the Gravelfists, he had even found a new identity, but still he had never forgotten about his people.

Three days after the solstice, Tirnonius, the old half-elven druid who had warned them about the significance of the Grove of the Mother approached him. Trepat was just packing his bags onto his mount, but when he saw the druid, he stopped and waved in greetings.

"So, I see you are getting ready to move on?" Tirnonius asked, stroking the mane of Trepat's horse.

Trepat nodded:" Yes. I want to go to Vera Tre. And since the others are now officially "Blessed Ones of the Mother", they wanted to come along. I hope that I will find members of my clan there."

The old druid already knew Trepat's story, and he answered:" Your clan is why I came here. I have travelled to Vera Tre, and found out that your sister Yorivana is still alive and well there!"

There were no words for Trepat to express his joy and acting on an impulse, he embraced the druid. After a while, he wrapped his hands around the old man's right hand. "That is great news. Thank you for telling me."

Trepat looked into Tirnonius' eyes, and to his surprise, he didn't saw his own joy mirrored there, but worries instead. "Is anything wrong?“ he asked.

"Hopefully not. But I found out about more of your clan. About three dozens of Redleaves have moved on. They had decided to move to the Hornsaw. There, they wanted to join a local tribe, called the Butterfly-clan. However, we have gotten word from the Butterflies that your clans people have never arrived, even though they are overdue for weeks now."

Remembering the horrors of the Hornsaw, Trepat said: "That doesn't sound good at all. Is anyone investigating their disappearance?"

"I am afraid not.“ the druid answered, shaking his head. "As a matter of fact, we were wondering whether you would look for them."

"Of course. But I will have to ask my companions whether they will come along, I can not speak for them".

His companions agreed. Even though they dreaded the Hornsaw, all of them wanted to help their friend. The old druid told them where the Butterfly clan was living in the northwestern part of the Hornsaw, and on the next day, after the druids had magically transported them to the edge of the Ganjus, they were once again crossing the Haggard Hills on their way to the Hornsaw.

It was even hotter and more desolate now than the last time, and at noon, the sun was almost right above them, and they cast hardly any shadows. As the sun set on the second day, promising the cool of night at last, after unbearable hours of scorching heat, they were attacked by a pack of what looked like deformed horse-sized hyenas.

Trepat recognized them as Abyssal Ravagers, a life form that had descended from hyenas and far more exotic entities from the depths of the Abyss, and he knew that the true danger of those creatures lay not in their powerful jaws or their razor-sharp claws, but in their poisonous sting, which protruded from their over length tails.

The companions spurred on their horses, but the predators from hell were faster, more agile and powerful than their steeds. They stung Niklas and Torn, severely poisoning them, but eventually, Trepat succeeded in frying them with his lightning, and with that aid, his friends were able to defeat the creatures, even in their weakened state.

At night, they nursed their wounds and injuries, and after two more days, they finally saw the Hornsaw looming in front of them again. Again, the ground had a muddy feeling to it, there was the smell of rotting meat, the plants were twisted, and somewhere far away and there were the screams of tortured creatures. But in spite of all this, they felt that here, something was different.

The plants weren't quite as twisted and the stench here wasn't quite as bad as it had been in the east. For all that it was worth, it seemed that the work of the local elves had lead to an improvement. This improvement was hard to be seen, and it was still a horrible and twisted place, but all in all here too there was change and a slow and steady healing of the lands.

The heat here was humid and oppressive, and the constant green roof of leaves above them offered little coolness. There was hardly a breeze and mosquitoes, lampreys and other bloodsucking parasites were everywhere.

By the time they settled down for the night, they were all stung and bitten many times. Niklas was the first on watch, and as he prepared a little fire for the night, two elves stepped out of the foliage. They were a man and a woman, both were scarcely clad and tattooed like Trepat and they held bows with small, razor sharp blades at the tips in their hands.

The woman addressed Niklas in what appeared to be elvish, but since Niklas didn't speak the language, he called for Trepat who came crawling out of the tent. Upon seeing a fellow wood-elf, the two locals relaxed noticeably, although they still held their bows ready.

The woman now turned to Trepat, asking him in the elvish tongue:" I have asked your ugly friend, and now I am asking you: What do you want in our part of the forest?"

Trepat opened his hands and held them away in an apologetic fashion:" I am sorry about the intrusion, but we did not know how to contact you. I am a Redleaf, and my friends and me came to search for a group of members of my clan who had come to join the Butterflies in their struggle to purify the Hornsaw forest."

A shadow of anger flashed over the elves faces, but the woman said:" We don't call our home that name. For us it is still the Broadreach. As a matter of fact, the name you use is an insult for us, but since you are a stranger, we will forgive you.

" We both are members of the Butterflies, and it is as you say: we have been expecting members of the Redleaves, but now we have a horrible suspicion. One of our druids had asked the plants and animals at the edge of the forest, and we are now certain, that they had entered the forest. At that time, it seems there had been a patrol of undead and necromancers nearby, and we fear that those vile defilers had captured the newcomers.“ the woman explained, while her companion remained silent and still all the time, merely moving his eyes to have a piercing look at each the heroes, one by one.

Trepat, who had been translating so far, stopped now:" Necromancers and Undead? But where could they have taken them?"

Now the Elven woman said only two words, and this time, even though Trepat had ceased to translate, all of them understood. For this time, it was the name of a place, a place about which all of them had heard horrible stories. She said:" Glivid Autel."


----------



## Nightfall

Lars Frehse said:
			
		

> *
> 
> For now, its back into the Hornsaw! *




WOWHO!!!  Hornsaw! Fun!


----------



## Nightfall

*Re: Back into hell- part 1*



			
				Lars Frehse said:
			
		

> *Now the Elven woman said only two words, and this time, even though Trepat had ceased to translate, all of them understood. For this time, it was the name of a place, a place about which all of them had heard horrible stories. She said:" Glivid Autel." *




Glivid Autel!  My home away from home!  Boy those guys must be thirsting for corpses these days. Can't wait to see what they've been up to.  Think also maybe someone better call in a Hollowfaustian cause it sound like they might need him/her.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Re: Re: Back into hell- part 1*



			
				Nightfall said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Glivid Autel!  My home away from home!  Boy those guys must be thirsting for corpses these days. Can't wait to see what they've been up to.  Think also maybe someone better call in a Hollowfaustian cause it sound like they might need him/her.  *




For some strange reason, they eventually did decide to go to Hollowfaust, but as a place for VACATION!!!! 
I don't want to put any spoilers here, but you will soon see what I mean...

Anyway, the heroes right away realized that they would have to act as they had done with the Annot Kalambath- dash in quickly and then head out even quicker! 

(And those were really enough spoilers for now, I think )


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Back into Hell- part 2*

His teacher had told Niklas about Glivid Autel, and he knew that the story of this place couldn't be told without the story of another place: Hollowfaust. Originally, there had been a gleaming and busy city at the place where Hollowfaust, the city of necromancers, had originally been founded. Then, at some point before the Titanswar, it had been devastated when it had been covered with the lava and ashes of the volcano that towered over it. However, the same force that had been the city’s doom had also preserved the buildings and corpses under a protective layer of ashes.

Hollowfaust remained a dead place until shortly after the Titanswar a group of Necromancers arrived. These masters of the arcane arts animated the skeletal remnants of the former inhabitants of the place to dig out parts of the city again. While doing so, however, war-refugees and others who were made homeless in the war or it's turbulent aftermath arrived, and soon Hollowfaust turned into a real city again, with citizens both dead and undead and Necromancers as its rulers.

However, for some of these new rulers, that power was not enough. They wanted more and they did not want to be hampered by the laws the strict but fair masters of death had established for themselves. 

When it came to describing what exactly had happened then, Brother William had to confess that he didn't know exactly- something that rarely happened with a man who easily fell victim to the sin of pride when it came to his encompassing knowledge. But a number of selfish and evil necromancers were expelled from Hollowfaust after some acts which their former companions wanted to punish but stay secret nonetheless.

These Necromancers in turn founded a city themselves. There, in the western part of the Hornsaw, on top of another ruined city, they built a place where they had to follow no rules and could commit whatever vile acts and morbid experiments their cold and evil minds could think of. And this was where the Redleaves had been taken.

"Does this mean that they are dead?" Trepat asked the two Butterflies.

For the first time, the male elf spoke, his voice deep and grating and resonating with hatred: " No, not necessarily. The wizards of Glivid Autel crave power, and in order to feel powerful, they entertain a people of slaves. For this, they catch free people, break them and turn them into slaves. Those who get killed, die of the harsh circumstances or who can't be broken, those are turned into undead servants.

"But this means that some of the Red Leaves may still be alive. Probably they are close to starvation and wasting away in some dark hole in the rock on which their city was erected. If you want to go there, we will lead you to the Broadreach River, from where it will be merely a dozen miles to Glivid Autel."

Trepat translated the elf's offer, wondering just how he had gotten those detailed informations, and once he was sure that all of his friends were ready to come along, he gratefully accepted.

"Good then," the woman said. "You better get some sleep now so that we can get going first thing in the morning."

Three days later, they had reached the eastern shore of the Broadreach River. By then, the friends had come to know their guides a little better. The woman was called Zona, the man Redoran and they were rangers of the Butterfly clan. When he had been younger, Redoran had been captured by the necromancers of Glivid Autel, but with luck and ingenuity, he had escaped from there, learning one important lesson in the process: The divine races where just as likely to be cruel and evil as any Titanspawn.

"This is as far as we can take you", Zona said as they looked over to the forest on the other side of the Broadreach River. "Our territory ends here. But here, the river is shallow enough for you to cross it safely, and we will be here with more members of our tribe when you return, in case you are being followed. May Madriel have mercy with you"

The companions said goodbye and waded through the river. On the other side, it was obvious that they were still in the Hornsaw-forest, and it looked even worse here than on the eastern shore. Looking back once more and waving to their guides, they stepped forward, soon being surrounded by lush and twisted vegetation once again.

After a while, they strongly felt the absence of their guides. They were able to move in the right direction, mostly thanks to Trepat's raven who gave them directions by looking down at the forest from high above, but still they felt uneasy.

Torn felt as if unseen and hostile eyes were watching them, and as if the entire forest wanted to see them dead. The trees seemed to be reaching out to claw into their clothes and flesh at every opportunity and the shadows seemed to be moving. But, hey, now that Torn was looking again: really- the shadows _were_ moving; at least the one of Niklas seemed to have developed a life of his own.

For a few moments Torn kept watching. This shadow here was definitely alive and acting on a will of it's own, even though it was connected to Niklas’ shape, just like a real shadow would be, but there were no indications of a slarecian shadow- no long neck and no spined ridge on the forehead. Silently, he pulled out his magical spiked chain, and then, as he slashed down at the living shadow, he cried out a warning.

His chain hit nothing but the murky ground, but right away, Niklas felt an immense force pulling his limbs, like a puppeteer pulling his strings- while was the puppet. He struggled and fought back, as he and the shadow were caught in a battle for control of his body.

As Niklas resisted the strange shadow, four three-dimensional shadows stepped forward, separating themselves from the general darkness amidst the trees. These too attacked the companions.


----------



## Nightfall

Shadow Lord!  I love them guys.  

Btw Lars Hollowfaust IS a nice place to visit...but not sure you want to live there long...unless you have a strong will.


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## Black_Kaioshin

Hello all!! I've been creepying in the shadows for a while now. I just wanted to say cool storyhour, Lars.


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## Nightfall

So Lars man! Where the heck are you?! I wanna update!


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## Lars Frehse

Black Kaioshin, thanks for the compliment.  I try to do my best.

Nightfall, I am sorry it took me so long. Things had been busy at work and in my life, but I hope that I will be able to update the story hour more frequently now.

So here is the next update!


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Back into hell- part 3 of 4*

As Niklas resisted the strange shadow, four three-dimensional shadows stepped forward, separating themselves from the general darkness amidst the trees. These too attacked the companions.

Trepat shot lightning into the first two of the approaching shadows, weakening one and destroying the other. As he dodged the arm of that shadow, feeling the supernatural cold breeze of death brushing past him, he saw how Torn, who was being attacked by the remaining two shadows, was hit by one of them. The black arm of the shadow seemed to simply pass through the halforc's armour, as if he were nothing more than a breeze going through a net. Torn jumped back, freeing himself from that arm, but he was noticeably weakened.

Meanwhile, the shadowlord and Niklas were still locked in their deadly struggle. As both, shadow and man, were trying to get control of his body, Niklas jerked around, dancing a comical and off-beat dance that belied his dire situation.

Torn was still battling his opponent, but Trepat had by now overcome his shadow, and at last he was in a position to help the monk. He stepped past Torn and then shot a barrage of magic missiles at the shadowlord. Where the projectiles of pure energy hit, they punched holes into the shadow, which was by and by substituted by the real one.

As the second volley of missiles hit the shadow, Niklas ripped free. The shadow moved over the jungle ground, heading for the underbrush, but Trepat shot his magical missiles once more, and with the sound of a very faint scream, the shadow dissipated.

They stood alert for a little longer, fearing more threats like the shadows, but as their breathing relaxed, there was no sign of any danger, except for the twisted forest itself. They took care of Torn's injury, which was invisible on the outside, and moved on.

For the rest of the day, all they had to fight were gnats, mosquitoes, leeches and other mundane nuisances. When night fell, they settled down, and on the next morning, they reached their goal at last: Glivid Autel.

From their position in the jungle, they only saw a sheer rock wall rising up in front of them and the foliage above them blocked away the view. But Trepat sent his raven up, and the bird was able to give them an impression of the place, which they wanted to enter.

Piercing out of the surface jungle, which was steaming under the morning sun, a gigantic stone spire rose into the sky. The spire was almost a mile high and on it's top, there was a circular mesa, which was about four hundred yards in diameter. On this mesa, protected from most of the dangers of the forest below by it's sheer elevation, was Glivid-Autel, the necropolis that was run by the vilest necromancers, diabolists and sadists in Ghelspad.

Only a quarter of the city, which had been founded within ruins, had been rebuilt. There, in dirty and poor surroundings the "citizens" of Glivid Autel were trying to make a living. In order to keep them in place, undead and necromancers were patrolling the rest of the ruins. There was little danger that anyone trapped in this place would flee anywhere else. Even if a refugee would somehow succeed in safely making it down the vertical rock face, he would still be facing the horrors the Hornsaw offered them. Instead, people stayed where they were, choosing squalor, poverty and fear of the rulers of the city over the downright terror that awaited them below.

Trepat's raven returned. After he had given his description of what he had seen, Torn said:" I think it would be best if we would scale up the spire."

Niklas nodded:" I still have two potions of spider climb... I could take Trepat on my back. I don't think we should waste any of those. If we find the elves, we will have to find a way to get them down, after all."

Trepat agreed, and shortly afterwards, they were climbing up the rock. As they scaled past the treetops, it was soon clear that even for a skilled mountaineer, the rock was nearly impossible to climb. About halfway up, Trepat, who was clinging to Niklas' sweaty back during their ascent turned his head to look down. The Hornsaw below looked like a green, misty ocean, and as Trepat felt vertigo creeping up his spine, combined with the realization of what would happen should they fall, he turned his head back to stare at the back of the monk's head.

Upon reaching the plateau, Torn sneaked a peek over the edge, and saw that there was nobody close-by right now. The walls of the inhabited part of the town were some one hundred yards to the right, and right in front of them were the partially standing walls of an ancient house. He signalled Niklas to take a look themselves, and they didn't need to exchange any words regarding what they were to do next.

Like one man, they pulled themselves onto the rocky surface and covered the few yards between the edge and the ruin in mere seconds. There, they finally had the chance to get a closer look. The ruins around were looted. The rocky surface was strewn with rocks, and in the cracks and fissures, mosses, grass and sometimes even small scrubs were growing.

For the next hours, they stayed in hiding while Trepat's crow took a look around. Judging by the bird's observation, it looked like the necromancers were lairing underground in the rock. At least every patrol of undead and necromancers either emerged or disappeared through one of the many trapdoors, which were at certain points among the ruins.

In the evening, when it was dark enough for them to feel a little safer, Niklas said:" The elf had told us that he had been held captured under the city. I think we have to go through one of these trapdoors."

"Sure" Torn answered, "let's hope that we will get the right one, though. I wouldn't want to end as an experiment in some fiendish laboratory!“

Again, they sent up the crow. When it signalled them that a patrol had just come past, and that they were now safe, they ducked amidst the rubble and headed to one of the trapdoors nearby. Torn sprinted ahead, and to his surprise, found the door open. He pushed the heavy wood up, and a few moments later, he and his friends had disappeared into the rock.


----------



## Nightfall

Lars,

Great stuff man!  Btw I know you've already run this adventure...but maybe if you want to get the PCs in deep trouble, have them face off against a death magic mage that was taught under Taason the Black...cause I just found out the old bastard is STILL alive.  (Taason is a favorite of mine. Anyone that kill an entire army with just a word is certainly my kind of fella!  )


----------



## Lars Frehse

Thank you for the praise. As you will see, this time it was only a short expedition into the place, which was all about avoiding any opposition. I think the characters still need to get a little bit stronger in order to really fight the big ones in Glivid Autel.


----------



## Nightfall

True. Taking on the forces of Glivid Autel is certainly not a job suited to near mid level character. 12-14th level, sure, but only then cause they'd be facing some weaker wizards and sorcerers along with demonlogists, and others.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Back into hell- part 4 of 4*

Torn slipped in after them and gently closed the heavy trapdoor. They found themselves in a corridor, which had been hewn into the rock, and stairs were leading down into the bowels of the spire. Torches were set in the walls at regular intervals, and the corridor was absolutely silent.

"I'll go first" Torn whispered to his friends and went down the stairs. After twenty yards, they ended in front of a corridor that lead left and right. Torn looked around and seeing no one, he signalled his friends to come down to him. Following a hunch, they turned right into a long, narrow and cool corridor. Twice they passed stairs leading up, until they saw the corridor taking a left bend.

Just then, they heard marching feet coming from that direction. Immediately, they headed back and went up the last stairs that they had passed, praying to the gods that whoever came marching wouldn't be heading into their direction.

Torn cowered in the shadows, and to his relief, he saw the patrol, which consisted of a dozen ghouls and two necromancers, walk past their corridor. The friends waited a little longer, and once they were sure that the patrol was gone, they continued their way down the corridor.

After the turn, it ended in front of another intersection. In front of them was a heavy metal door, and to the left and right, at the end of small, twenty feet long corridors there were two more metal doors. In front of both of these doors, effectively blocking each corridor, was a vaguely humanoid form. Both looked alike, were slightly taller than an average human, and it looked like they were made from ash.

Looking left and right, Niklas said:" I think we should try this door here first. Those two fellows don't look that inviting to me".

Torn nodded, but as just he hunkered down to get a good look at the lock in front of him, Trepat nudged him: "Shhh! Don't you hear that?"

The halforc stopped and listened, and really, there was the sound of a child crying. The crying stopped, and was substituted by what seemed to be a melancholic elven lullaby.

"I think it comes from behind that door", Trepat said and pointed down the corridor to their right.

Torn pulled out his spiked chain, and turned to Trepat:" All right then. Cover our backs!"

They stepped into the corridor, and immediately, the ash-construct in front of them came to life. It stepped forward and punched at Niklas, who felt the supernatural strength of the golem as he had all the air knocked out of him. The monk punched back, but wherever his fist hit his opponents, all they did was pass through lose ash. It seemed as if the thing was able to harden it's limbs when needed, like when it struck with it's fists, but stayed immaterial like ash in the rest of his body, making it nearly impossible to damage it.

Seeing that his chain merely pierced through nothing, Torn took Trepat's magical scimitar while Niklas took a beating. Trepat had meanwhile found out that his magic was without effect against the thing. So he boosted the strength of both the halforc and the human, but then Niklas was hit square against the skull, and he crushed to the ground.

Now only Torn could effectively fight this soulless and menacing opponent. He went into a rage and swinging the scimitar with both hands, he chopped away at the golem. He was oblivious to the crushed bones and bruised flesh where the construct hit him and then, suddenly, it was over.

The golem exploded in a cloud of ashes, and the corridor was silent again. Trepat had already nursed Niklas back to consciousness, and now he urged Torn: "Quick. Tanil knows how much time we have left".

Without losing any time, Torn examined the door, and after finding and disarming a trap that would have filled the corridor with poisonous gas, he picked the lock. Fearing a trap, he and his friends readied their weapons and pushed open the heavy iron door.

Immediately, they were hit by the foul odours of humanoids who had been locked into a confined space. There were about two dozen elves in there, fearfully crouching in one half of the room, and their filth and excrements was piled up in a corner in the other half of the room. All of them were dirty, starving and shielding their eyes from the weak light of the torches in the corridor.

"Don't be afraid", Trepat said, stepping into the prison cell, "we are here to help you."

One of the women, who was holding a starving child in her arms, looked up: "Trepat? Is that you?"

Trepat recognized her right away:" Cymola, yes. I am so glad to see you again".

He rushed forward, ignoring the dirt, and embraced his cousin. Soon, other elves stepped forward, and Trepat found that half of the elves who were captured here were his clan mates who he hadn't seen in four decades.

They had to keep their reunion short for now, though. Torn interrupted them:" I am sorry to disturb, but we are not safe yet. Are there any spell casters among you?"

One elf stepped up: „Yes, I am a wizard, but my spell book had been taken from me. If I would have it, I could cast some polymorph spells to transform me and some others into hippogriffons..."

"Actually", Torn interrupted, pulling out a tome out of his magical bag of holding" we do have a spellbook with those spells. Do you think you would have enough time to prepare the spells?"

"I do think so. The patrol had just been here an hour or two ago, and I estimate that they usually come here in once per day. At least I think so- the passage of time is hard to be judged down here. It is definitely worth a try".

The elvish wizard settled down to study the book, and after a few hours, the friends lead the prisoners out of the corridor and into the ruin at the edge of the city where they had hidden before. There, Trepat used three scrolls he had gathered over the years to turn three of the elves into hippogriffons. Then, the wizard transformed another elf, Torn, Trepat and himself into hippogriffons, too. Two or three elves mounted each of the griffons, and they flew of into the night.

When the sun rose on the next morning, they were just crossing the Broadreach River. On the far bank, several of the Butterfly elves were already awaiting them. The hippogriffons landed, and right away, the weakest elves rolled into the sand of the bank, and the butterflies took care of them. For now, they were safe. At least as safe as one could be in a place like the Hornsaw Forest.

Two days later, the wizard had transformed all the griffons back into their original form. They were all resting in a butterfly-camp deep in the woods, and one evening, as the friends were laying on their back, looking up to the stars above, Niklas said:" There is one thing I don't understand. How had we been able to find the elves so easily? That was a big place. It almost feels as if some unseen force had guided us... And I don't like that idea..."


----------



## Nightfall

*bad post* *very, very bad post*


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## Nightfall

Sweet! I love the fight with the Ash Golems. Hopefully they figure out what's going on. Cause I think I have an idea...but it's just speculation at this point.


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## Lars Frehse

Oh, don't worry, they will eventually find out... I am lagging behind with this storyhour, and just last session, an entity admitted prodding them in a certain direction...
But all in due time. Now, of to the next update!


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## Lars Frehse

*Vacation- part 1*

Looking up to the merciless sun above them, Ben once again silently cursed himself under his breath- after all, there was no reason at all for him to be here in the Festering fields.

He thought back to when the latest follies had started. It was back in the Hornsaw forest, in the camp of the Butterflies. Trepat and he had already decided that they would return to the Ganjus and go to Vera Tre. This way, Trepat would be able to look for his relatives among the elves there, and Ben could talk to his fellow incarnates, possibly even their leader.

However, one night a couple of days ago, they were settled around a cosy campfire, and Niklas and Torn had been studying a map of Ghelspad the monk carried around with him at all times. They were silently talking to each other, apparently discussing something on the map, and Ben didn't pay them much heed and looked up to the stars instead, enjoying the tranquillity of the summer night.

After a while, Torn called out for Ben, Jan and Trepat to join them, and when everyone had gathered around the map next to the crackling fire, Torn pointed the big and fleshy index-finger of his right hand to a spot on the map. At first, Ben didn't see what the orc was pointing at, and instead studied the cracks in the halforc’s dirty fingernail, but then Torn announced: "Hollowfaust!", and Ben saw that it was really the city of Necromancers Torn had been pointing at.

"You see" Torn explained "If we follow down the Hornsaw and then turn westwards, we will get there in no time at all. We had never been as close to this place before as we are now, and that would be a perfect opportunity."

Ben wanted to ask why they would possibly want to go to a city that was mostly populated by skeletons and other undead, but just as he was about to speak up, Ben said:" My teacher, Brother William, should still be there, as well. At the time when we left Durrover, he had been sent there by my monastry, and I would like to see him again after these years."

A breeze came up and it blew thick smoke from the fire into their direction, forcing them all to take a few steps to the right. "Alright, then" Trepat said "I had been waiting forty years to see my family, so I guess I can wait a few weeks more. I will come with you".

Ben looked to Jan, hoping that at least the Paladin would want to return to Mithril as soon as possible, but the human just said:" That's fine with me. I heard they are lawful there, so it should be a nice place".

Seeing that it looked like the issue was decided, Ben merely sighed and shrugged then, and on the next morning they were on the way along the banks of the Broadreach river.

On the map, the distance they had to travel through the cursed forest looked small indeed, however, in reality, it had taken them eleven days to reach the edge of the forest. Eleven days in which they had been attacked by all sorts critters, for example living plants, like shambling mounds or a tendrilous, which had swallowed up both Jan and his horse, before it had been hacked to pieces and the half-digested horse and human were liberated.

Then, when they had reached the edge of the forest and entered a little swamp, they had settled down for the night. Ben had been woken up rudely that night, and later Niklas had told him what had happened before that.

Late at night, when a black blanket of clouds covered the moon and the stars, Niklas, who hardly needed to sleep, and his brother Jan had been on watch. The hours crawled by, and nothing happened, until the brothers noticed two glowing lights dancing gently over the moor in front of them.

"Looks fishy to me", Niklas said after they had been observing the lights for a little while.

Jan nodded and rose to his feet. As he wrapped his right hand around the hilt of his sword which was still in it's scabbard he stepped forward and casually said over his shoulder:" Yes. I will go and take a look."

Niklas nodded, and by the time he had realized just what his brother was about to do, Jan was already wading through the swamp and all the monk saw was the back of his brother's fullplate as he headed towards the lights.

"Stop", Niklas called, but his brother was already on his way, and he paid no heed to his smarter brother. At least, Jan's exceptional luck lasted for as long as he was wading through the muck, since he always stepped on the firmer ground.

Eventually, he stood in front of the two lights, which were hanging in the air in front of him, and nothing happened. Just as he thought that maybe he was seeing a strange natural phenomenon, and wanted to turn around, arches of light and electricity shot out of the balls and hit him, almost frying him in his armour.

A moment later, he had his sword in his hand and he was swinging at one of the will o' wisps, as Niklas shouted for the others to wake up. And that was when Ben had been rudely woken up. He too got up, and as he saw the Paladin fighting in the swamps, he entertained the notion of not aiding him for a short moment. Then, however, he stepped forward and joined the fray.

After a while, with the aid of everyone of them, they had defeated the will o' wisps, even though they almost killed Jan, and now, on the second day after that night, they were riding into the rising sun, and Ben once again shook his head. After all, he could be in the cool shades of gentle Vera Tre right now, instead of swallowing dust with every breath.

They had decided to move through the hot festering fields at night and set camp during the unbearably hot day, but since the nights were rather short, they left the camp in the late afternoon, when the air around them was noticeably cooling down and rode until shortly before noon when the desert around them exploded in heat.

Every now and then, especially at nights, they encountered the residents of the Festering Fields. Skeletons, Zombies and Ghouls seemed to be everywhere, crawling out of the fissures in the ground, coming at them over the hills and dunes and attacking the friends seemingly at random. Fortunately, none of their undead opponents seemed to have any kind of organization, and so they were little more than a nuisance for the seasoned adventurers.

On their fourth morning in the plains, they finally saw the sloped shape of the Faust to the north of them. The volcano was calm that day, and only the faintest orange glow in it's crater indicated that it was alive. At it's foot lay Hollowfaust, the city of the necromancers, shielded from the outside world by 30 feet thick walls.

They approached the only gate that lead into the city, where they were eyed and questioned by the guards posted there. When the guards were finally content, they gave the adventurers a short introduction regarding the laws and rules of the city. One law especially caught their attention: If anyone lost his life within the city walls, the city would become the legal owners of said bodies.

"We should be extra-careful here", Torn said as they passed through the massive gate and entered the city. „I have gotten rather fond of my body."


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## Nightfall

Well just as long as they a) Don't leave after dark and b) don't commit serious infractions (like helping to raise the dead), they won't have much to worry about.


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## Lars Frehse

Well, they had always been good at getting themselves into trouble, so let's look...


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## Lars Frehse

*Vacation- part 2*

They checked in at the Weary Pilgrim, where the proprietess, Iontassa, offered rooms of all kinds. And so Trepat was able to sleep in a room that was a perfect replication of a tree-room in Vera Tre, even though he would still have to wait some time until he would actually get there.

After a hearty meal, the adventurers were ready to explore the city. However, when they stepped out of the hotel, the oppressive heat hit them like a brick wall. Torn turned to Javos, the son of Iontassa who had volunteered to be their guide for a little fee. "Is it always that hot here?"

Javos waggled his head in a gesture that meant neither yes nor no:" It gets more comfortable during the winter, and at nights, of course. But since all of you look like rather well-doing people, you might want to invest into clothing made from cold-weave."

"What's that?“ Trepat asked.

"It is a special magical kind of textile which is produced here in Hollowfaust. It is a heavy, dark cloth, which always remains slightly cooler than its surroundings. In a coldweave robe, you could cross a desert and it would feel like you are crossing a plain."

"Sounds great" Niklas said "please lead us to a merchant who has those robes".

Two hours later, they were all clad in coldweave outfits and after a brief encounter with the local clerks, they had found out where William lived. They visited them and soon sent Javos home, since they didn't need him for their recollection of the things that had happened ever since they had split in Durrover.

He was especially proud of the achievements of Niklas, his personal student, and he was especially fascinated by what the friends had discovered about psionics and its return into the world. In turn, he told them about his time here in Hollowfaust. When he hadn't been working on improving relations between Mithril and Hollowfaust, he had used the extensive libraries and laboratories to further his own knowledge.

At some point past midnight, when several empty bottles of wine were littering the tables and the floor of William's apartment, he announced:" Actually, I don't think that I will stay here much longer than two or three weeks now. I am basically wrapping up things right now. So, if you will stay a little longer, we can travel back to Mithril together!"

They all agreed and somehow, later at night, they managed to find their way back to the hotel. On the next morning, Jan and Niklas stayed in the hotel while Ben, Torn and Trepat all went into the city. The brothers were drinking tea and nursing their headaches, when the door of the inn-room opened up, and a worried looking woman in her late thirties entered.

She looked around quickly, shortly resting her eyes on Jan and Niklas, who were the only guests present at the moment, and then turned to the bar, where she exchanged some words with Iontassa in a whispering voice. Then, after she had apparently found out what she needed to know, she turned around, went to the table the brothers were sitting at, and asked whether she may join them.

Niklas merely grunted, but Jan jumped up and pulled back a chair for the woman "But of course, lady".

The woman sat down in one flourish motion, and Jan was able to see a faint memory of the beauty that had long ago faded in her eyes. "I am sorry that I intrude upon you like this", she said, "but the Weary Pilgrim is known as a place for adventurers who come through this city. And I am in need of experienced adventurers like you right now."

"We would be more than happy to be of service, my lady", Jan said, beaming all over his face.

"Good. My name is Vidola Bolte, and I am here because of my husband. He- he died last night. I have already contacted the guard, of course, but I am not sure that they will find out who had killed him. And killed, he was".

Niklas, who noticed how calm the woman seemed, considering her recent loss, said:" We can of course take a look. But please, tell us what you know about your husband's death".

"Last night, he came home late from his work at the local guild of exchange and trade, where he is responsible for the proper exchange of foreign currencies into our local currencies. Anyway, there had been a lot of work lately, so I was used to him coming home late at night, when I was already asleep."

"When I woke up this morning, I saw him laying there in bed. He was stiff and his neck was sticking out of his body at an odd angle... He must have slept next to me, and then he... he was murdered!"

Now, for the first time, the woman let out a grief-filled groan. Jan gently pulled her forward and offered his shoulder for her to cry on, while Niklas watched her through eyes like a slit- he didn't trust her.

When she had calmed down a little, Niklas asked, his voice hardly hiding the suspicions:" Have the guards already investigated.“

She swallowed hard, pressed her lips together, and after drying her eyes with a handkerchief Jan had offered, she answered:" Yes, they did. But the corps is still in our sleeping room. The guards said that they will pick up the body tomorrow."

"Good then", Jan said. "We will wait for our friends to join us and then we will come to your apartment and take a look".

Three hours later, they were still waiting for Ben. Torn had returned first, then came Trepat, and both of them were quickly filled in on the visit of the widow. Both were glad to hear that they would have some work to do while they were waiting for Brother William to finish his business here in Hollowfaust. Just when they were wondering whether something had happened to their halfling-friend, Ben walked in, his arm wrapped around a halfling-woman, who wore too much make-up and was apparently of questionable profession.

He quickly introduced her as Mina, but when his friends told him about the investigation they intended to start, he sent Mina out to wait for him in his room, and then he said:“ You know what? You guys can go ahead without me. The only reason I came here with you was that this was intended as a vacation. And I have decided to make the most out of that vacation!"

"But Ben", Jan said, "We should help that woman."

"Why? I heard they got a pretty good law-enforcement system going on here. Besides, I still got enough money, so that I don't have to earn it in a place that is confined, reeks of death and represents everything I distrust."

Niklas looked at the halfling with a puzzled look:" So that means you will rather spend your time doing nothing?"

"You can hardly call the stuff I plan on doing "nothing". Besides, it is terribly hard to find a decent halfling hooker anywhere, and I haven't seen one like her in a long time. So, you can just go and solve that case. I will enjoy my vacation in the meantime. My skills and abilities won't be much help in this environment, anyway."

All of the friends knew that it was almost impossible to change the incarnate's mind, once it was set on something, and so they went to the widow's apartment on their own.


----------



## Nightfall

LOL!  A halfling hooker!  Now that's interesting. Plus a murder! Man we have fun times ahead!


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Vacation- part 3*

Like most buildings in Hollowfaust, the large apartment building in which Bolte lived, hailed back to the time of Sumara, before all of all it's inhabitants were killed, and it had been excavated from layers of volcanic rock and ashes. It had been built with large granite slabs, had five stories, four apartments in each story and it looked so heavy and oppressing, like all the buildings around, that the friends felt dwarfed for a moment.

It was the kind of house in which the wealthy and successful citizens of Hollowfaust were living. And in spite of it's isolated location, Hollowfaust was generating quite a bit of money and wealth. The friends scaled the marble stairways and by the time they reached the floor of the widow, she was already standing in the doorway, waiting for them.

The friends exchanged some comments, and then Jan asked:“ So, could we speak to your husband now?"

As his companions turned to Jan with an unbelieving look, Vidola Bolte was mortified. For a split second, she didn't react at all. Then all blood left her face and he mouth opened wide. "What..what", she stammered, still searching for words, when Niklas interrupted her.

"What he means", Niklas said, "is that we would like to perform some magical investigations, or, as he put it, "speak to him"."

"I see", the widow answered, shooting an angry look at Jan.

Before Jan could say anything, Torn ushered them all past the woman and into their sleeping room. Before he closed the door behind them, separating them from the confused widow, he called back to her:" I think it is best if we take a look by ourselves for now. We will let you know when we have further questions to ask you".

The moment the door closed with a snap of the lock, he turned around to Jan:" Just what in the name of hell were you thinking?"

Jan shrugged:" I am sorry, but all I was thinking was that the first thing we do during an investigation is asking questions. And of course the victim would be a logical choice for such questions."

Niklas pointed their attention to the dead man who was laying in the bed to their right: "Anyway, it doesn't look like this one here is going to answer a lot of questions..."

They now took a closer look. The corpse was a dead human male who had been about 40 years old. He looked almost peaceful, except for the strange angle at which his neck had been forcefully broken. They found marks of fingers around his neck, the way it looked, this was what had killed him.

They looked around in the room, and after finding no evidence of breaking in or any other unusual traces, Trepat straightened himself up and turned to Jan:" Actually, I do have a way to ask some questions".

He dropped his backpack on a desk next to the bag. After sifting through it for a while, he pulled out a little scroll with a triumphant gesture:" This here, "Eyes of the dead" will enable me to see what he has seen right before he died!"

Resting one hand on the forehead of the corpse, he read the scroll and then, as the piece of paper crumbled to ashes, he slumped forward, suddenly taking the place of the dead man in his last moments on this world. Immediately, he was in the man's skull.

He lay in bed awake, the moonlight streaming in through a gap in the curtains. There was the faint sound of one of the boards in the floor giving in but as the man turned his head, there was no one there. He looked once to his wife laying next to him, fast asleep, then up to the ceiling again, apparently trying to get some sleep.

Then, suddenly, he felt the sensation of long, sensual fingernails stroking his neck, both left and right. The sensation was rather pleasant, but at the same time, Trepat felt panic rising in the victim's body. Then, even though he still saw nothing, the invisible nails and invisible fingers wrapped themselves around his neck, choking him and breaking his neck with an uncanny strength.

At that moment, the spell ended, and Trepat needed a moment to adjust to the fact that he was among his friends again. He told them what he had found out, and after some speculations, Niklas came to the conclusion that whoever had committed the crime was at least acquainted to the victim.

They questioned the widow further, but she didn't know of any enemies her husband could have had or any other motive anybody could have for the crime. Furthermore, she had noticed nothing unusual that night, which seemed believable since as Trepat had found out it had all been rather quick... Soon it was clear that there would be no additional evidence here, and so they decided to continue their work at the administration building at which Bolte had worked.

Asking around, they found out that there had actually been hardly any work lately. So the late returns of Bolte couldn't have been because of work. The way it seemed, the victim must have been to someplace else in the time span between the end of his work and his arrival at home.

When they were done with the questioning, and the building was about to get closed, Niklas said, referring to one of the superiors of Bolte, another human who was in his early fifties and had the posture and arrogance of a Calastian noble:" I think that guy had been lying to us. Furthermore, he seemed to have been much more nervous than was necessary..."

Torn nodded:" I agree. Maybe we will find out more if we shadow him."

"That would be easy, I think", Trepat said "I could send my raven to watch him, and we would see whether he will do something that will shed some light on all this."

Seeing nothing better to do, they sent out the raven. First, the man they followed went to his own apartment house, which he left after half an hour in order to head northwards, roughly towards the second gate.

Meanwhile, Ben and Mina were lazily getting dressed in his hotel-room. "So" he asked, gently letting a strand of brown hair slip through his fingers "is there anything fun to do at night in Hollowfaust?“

Mina turned around, looking at him with the cold and evaluating expression of a cat that tried to predict the actions of a possible prey, and after some considerations, her face lit up. She leaned in on him, giving Ben the advantage of her perfume and a good perspective of her cleavage, and whispered into his ears:" Yes. There is a very special place, where we can have all the fun you could possibly imagine.“

They left the hotel, Mina leading the way, until they reached the wall that separated the quarter of the living from what the locals called "the Ghosts' quarter". All Ben knew was that beyond this wall, there were only the ruins of Sumara, the city from which Hollowfaust had been carved. Especially now, after nightfall, only undead and necromancer were patrolling this area.

Ben looked to Mina with a puzzled look, silently asking her why they had come here. But before he could actually say something, she sealed his lips with a kiss, and then indicated a lose brick in the wall. Pressing it, a small secret trapdoor swung open, giving way to a tunnel that lead under the wall.

The tunnel was high enough for them to walk upright, even though Ben quickly estimated that a human would have to crouch in here, and it's exit was on the other side of the wall in the city of the dead. Ignoring the eerie silence of the moon-flooded ruins around them, Mina purposefully lead them past patrols to one ruin that seemed to be mostly intact. It was a large former mansion that was half covered with debris, and a trench led down to a wooden door.

She rapped on the door, which was opened by a sour looking half-orc who let them pass once he recognized the halfling prostitute. They went through a short corridor, opened another door, and immediately they were flooded by the sounds and smells of an orgy in progress.

The room they entered was dimly lit, covered with groups of cushions, and there were humanoids of all kinds and both sexes involved in all kinds of activity. Some of them wore masks, and more often than not, that was all they wore. While some of the guests were clenched in the grip of passion with other guests or maybe employees, others were drinking wine or smoking sweet smelling drugs from long pipes while they were lazily watching the more active guests.

Somewhere in the background, naked men and women were playing harps and two beautifully shaped human women with masks ushered Ben and Mina into an unoccupied corner of the room. There Ben was offered wine and a pipe, and after taking a deep drag of the heavy, red liquid he took the pipe and inhaled, drifting off into the world of dreams immediately...


----------



## Nightfall

Gee, 

Possible LoS and Ben out partying.


----------



## Lars Frehse

That was definetly one of the stranger sessions.
First of all, I had asked the players at the end of the previous session just what they would want to do next, and they all told me that they would go to Vera Tre. So, I prepared an adventurer that would take place there.
Then, on the next session, Torn's player looked at the map, saw that he was close to Hollowfaust, and convinced the others, except for Ben's player to go there, sightseeing. So, while I am throwing random encounters at them in the Hornsaw, I am frantically trying to come up with an adventure to take place there.
Eventually, I came up with a plot, and just when I was about to introduce it, Ben got himself a hooker, and the player announced that he would be spending his time in the city with her, and not participate in any investigation. Now, I considered that a challenge to the DM and came up with something to integrate him back into the storyline, as you will see...


----------



## LRathbun

Lars Frehse said:
			
		

> Now, I considered that a challenge to the DM and came up with something to integrate him back into the storyline, as you will see...



I thought that might be what was happening! Well done on that score (and most others). Thanks for a fun story to read.

Luke

edit: spelling


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## Nightfall

I'm sure it will be an interesting challenge Lars. Can't wait to see how you fixed it.


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## Lars Frehse

LRathbun said:
			
		

> I thought that might be what was happening! Well done on that score (and most others). Thanks for a fun story to read.
> 
> Luke
> 
> edit: spelling





Thanks. I hope I will be able to finish the next update by tomorrow, so you will see Ben back in the main story line by then. 


---edit--- Thanks, Nightfall.

Incidentally, does anyone know how I can turn HTML back on in my signature?


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## Nightfall

Lars,

Sorry, no idea. But I can't wait to see Ben's return.


----------



## Lars Frehse

*Vacation- part 4 of 4*

Back in the real world, Ben's friends were meanwhile standing in a doorway in the northern parts of Hollowfaust. They waited as Trepat listened to the telepathic messages from his familiar until the sorcerer looked up and said:" He went to the wall for some reason. There is no house... But now, he manipulates some stone or something- and there is a trapdoor!"

"Let's go there, quick!“ Torn said, and then added as an afterthought to Trepat:" And tell your raven to hover over the wall, so in case he comes out, we will know where!"

They hurried through narrow alleys, past closed shops and then reached the wall. Soon, Torn found a lose brick, and when he pressed it, a trapdoor opened up. They entered a small tunnel, which was just about big enough for one crouching man at a time.

On the other side of the tunnel, they were surrounded by ruins. "This is not good", Niklas said. "I heard there are undead patrols in this part of the city. And since we have no special tokens to move here, those undead would certainly attack us, too."

"Still, I am sure that this is the only way...“ Torn added.

"Good news!“ Trepat whispered, his voice barely audible in the silence that surrounded them "the man we are trailing has just entered a specific ruin. I can lead us there".

Jan smiled and wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword:" Very good!"

"And what are we going to do once we get there?“ Niklas asked.

Torn scratched his chin: "I could disguise myself as a human merchant, or something, and go in there and look around. In case that there are guards or anything, I should be able to come up with a plausible story, I think."

Trepat nodded in response:" Yes, that sounds like the best choice... I will keep your familiar here, so that it can warn us in case you get in trouble.“

After casting a spell, and using some props to make sure that he would pass as a human, Torn went into the little ditch and knocked on the door through which the man they had followed had passed. A sour looking Halforc opened. Upon seeing Torn, he blocked the entrance with the mass of his body, and said:" Yes?"

Torn extended his hand for a handshake, sneaking five gold pieces into the palm of the halforc:" A business-acquaintance of mine, Mr Bolte, had told me about this place two weeks ago, and now that I am back in town, I finally would like to see it myself."

The halforc nodded and stepped aside, opening the doorway to the corridor beyond:" A personal recommendation of one of our members is acceptable. Enjoy your stay, sir!"

Torn entered the corridor, and as he noticed that behind his back the halforc had closed the main door, he simply went ahead and opened the door. Immediately, all of Torn's senses were flooded with impressions. The room in front of him was dimly lit, but he was able to see that there were several humanoids engaged in carnal activities. There was music and the smell of perfume, incense and sweet smoke was almost too powerful for him to adjust to without coughing.

He looked around, trying to look inconspicuous, and walked into the room, avoiding the couples and triplets who were wrapped around each other in various positions on the floor. He was heading to what looked like a bar at the far end, but suddenly, his eyes were captured by something else. To his right, some twenty feet away, he recognized Ben, who was lying on a cushion with the hooker he had introduced to them earlier that day.

Ben was apparently far-gone, his eyes were just slits and he had the look of a dreaming man. Torn decided not to address his halfling friend here, and turned to the bar again. However, before he reached it, two women with masks hooked their arms into his to his left and right.

Both wore masks, but since they didn't wear anything else, he concluded that they were young, human and in rather good health. One of them asked whether he was new, and when he said that he was, they led him into a backroom in order to give him what they called a "nice welcome".

An hour later, Torn was back with his friends. "The place seems to be some sort of a brothel. Actually, I think I have just encountered the best hookers of my life! However, you give as much money as you like upon leaving or entering. I don't quite see how this is profitable... Oh, and the bouncer immediately recognized the name of Bolte, so we can say for sure that he had been a patron here."

They talked a little more and when Trepat warned them about someone coming, they hid in the shadows. It turned out that it was Siriak, the grey haired man who had led them to the place earlier.

Torn stepped out of the shadows. The human saw him, wanted to turn around, but already Niklas had positioned himself behind him, glaring darkly at him.

"What do you want?", he asked, trying to show bravery in spite of his quavering voice, which betrayed his fear.

Torn stared into the man's eyes until he had to flinch and turn away:" We know that you had lied to us. You knew that Bolte had spent his nights here. Why?"

Siriak sighed, and with his sigh, he admitted both his defeat and his resignation. He told the friends that the idea of the club was that you would use your relations in favour of the club and other members. Sometimes, the proprietess, a woman called Lel, would call in little favors. But never anything that would truly compromise any of the patrons, and usually you would only be asked for favors once you have become a regular.

When Siriak had told them all he knew, they dismissed him. They waited a little longer and at some point after midnight, they saw what they had been waiting for: Ben was walking back to Hollowfaust proper- arm in arm with Mina.

He was clearer now than he had been when Torn had seen him, and upon seeing his friends, he shouted cheerfully: "What the hell are you guys doing here!"


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## Black_Kaioshin

Go, Lars!! Bump!!


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## Nightfall

LOL!  Ben...Still nice to see the old brothel in place. Have to wait and see how this plays out.


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## Lars Frehse

Hi there,
I thought a little explanation for my absence would be in order.

Usually, I write my updates in my breaks at work. But two weeks ago, I got struck by tonsilitis. (Apparently, I am no Paladin). So, my material was at work, while I was at home, recovering. At least my tonsils stayed in for now- but if it becomes chronic, I will have to go the hospital*
Then, just when I had gotten better, my vacation had started and I was off to the Netherlands (still pretty sick- but there was no refund for my traintickets, so I thought it would have been a waste to stay at home. So, I was on vacation and now I am back and home. Either today or tomorrow, I intend to write a big update, which I will post in several portions.

I just want to say I am sorry that the storyhour grinded to a halt. I hope some of you guys will come back when I am posting new updates.



*Incidentally, when I was a kid I had always wanted to have my tonsils removed, since I knew that you got a bunch of icecream after that was done. But now I am 31 and I can get all the icecream I want anyway- without having to go to the hospital.


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## Nightfall

It's alright Lars. Can't expect you to be here 24/7.  But do appreciate you updating us. Hope you feel better soon and STAY better.


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## Lars Frehse

*The Grateful Dead- part 1*

_Creak..._

Niklas woke up, sensing that he wasn't alone. He was lying in bed in his hotel room, and even though he had been asleep just moments ago, he was now wide-awake. He concentrated and due to the psionic forces that the slarecian Virus had triggered in him, his eyes were now as sharp as those of any elf.

Looking through a small slit between his lids, he turned around, scanning the room, and to his relief, he saw that it was empty. Concluding that it had been merely an echo of a dream, he sank back into his cushions, looking forward to the luxury of drifting away into the land of dreams. Just then, there was another Creak.

He bolted up, sitting upright in his bed when he heard the swooshing sound of a blade cutting through air. Still, he saw no one, but he rolled to the side and from the bed nonetheless, and a sharp but invisible blade cut into his thigh while the bed was torn open by another blade.

Ignoring his pain, he jumped to his feet, and as the feathers that had come out of the bed like the blood of a living being were levitating around him, his fists exploded in a flurry of blows into the direction from which the attack had come. Twice he felt his fists hitting something, and he shouted for his friends, who were sleeping in the bordering rooms.

He kept on fighting his invisible enemy, who, in spite of being very silent, seemed to be much bigger than a normal human. Then, just as his arm was cut open by the blade of his invisible attacker, the door burst open and all four of his companions came streaming in.

Ben reacted immediately. He cast a spell, dispelling the invisibility. Now, they could all see the attacker. It was a massive, naked humanoid of about eight feet of height, with a muscular body and powerful hands, which were wrapped around a pair of strange small scythe-like blades.  The most remarkable thing about the attacker, however, was that he had no face at all- the front of his head was completely featureless.

Now all of the companions were able to fight the attacker, who kept on fighting even though he was clearly outnumbered, and after a struggle, Jan struck him with his sword in the middle of his forehead, defeating him. The faceless fell to the floor, now nothing more than a lifeless lump of heavy flesh, and the ground shook under the impact.

By now, there was quite a commotion in the hallway in front of Niklas' room. Some of the residents were peeking in, and they only made way when the proprietess arrived. While she asked what had happened, the body of the faceless attacker evaporated with a loud hissing noise.

She opened her eyes in shock at this, and said:" I have to apologize that this had happened in my hotel. Please, let me get you a new room, in which you will of course be free to stay for as long as you want without having to worry about the cost. I will also inform the guards, so that they can take a look at this...

"This..." she pointed at the puddle at the floor that was all that was left of the attacker"... this is clearly no mundane threat you are dealing with. I bet the necromancers will be able to make more of it than I possibly could.“

"All right, then", Torn said. "I think there are some questions we have to ask the necromancers, as well".

Half an hour went by, in which Ben treated Niklas' wounds, and eventually, a young human in a dark cloak appeared. "My name is Jorbas", he said, shaking hands. "Now, please let me know what exactly had happened".

Niklas explained how he had woken up and had been assaulted and Jorbas watched him, piercing him with eyes the colour of molten lead. When Niklas was done, Jorbas asked:" Do you have any idea why a creature like this one could want to attack you?"

"We might have angered some people last night.“ Jan answered, and then they all told the young necromancer about their investigations ever since they had arrived. They were as thorough as possible, but about two aspects they were silent, and that was Ben's visit to the brothel and the hooker who had lead them there. Mina had told them that she had been offered to bring along wealthy customers, but she herself was not much more than a guest- and they readily believed her.

After he had heard about the strange club in the Ghost Quarters and the possible connection with the murder of Bolte, he nodded and said:" I think I would rather let you report to the leader of my guild, Numadaya. Your attacker here was a member of a race of devils, which we call "the faceless". Apparently, they are an organization of assassins which operate from somewhere in the pits of hell. As far as we know, you have to travel to their fortress in order to make a contract with them. So it looks as if whoever had ordered this assassin had to have some fiendish connections..."

He shrugged:" All this, however, is too much for me. Please come with me to the Underfaust, since I think that the powers you are dealing with could be great enough to concern the council members."

After getting dressed and a quick breakfast, the companions followed Jorbas to the Underfaust. All they knew about the necromantic realm below the volcano were rumours, so they all felt a little exited and vulnerable.

The Underfaust was separated from the rest of Hollowfaust by a massive gate, which was guarded by living and undead guards. Upon seeing Jorbas, they were waved through and walked through a tunnel, which was big enough to allow siege machines to get towed through.

They followed the corridor deep into the mountain, and every now and then, smaller corridors intersected it. Undead Servants, Constructs and members of the guilds were everywhere, busily walking to and fro, giving the serene subterranean city the hectic feeling of an anthill.

Under the ceiling and along the walls, there were several pipes of different, and sometimes there would be a hissing or gurgling sound coming from those pipes. "What is the purpose of those pipes?“ Niklas asked Jorbas, who was hurrying ahead of them.

"Ah, all kinds of purposes actually. Some of them, like the big one there, is taking care of the sewage that is created here. The sewage is processed outside, and ultimately used as fertilizer for the fields in and around Hollowfaust. Other pipes are used to get cool air deep inside into the mountain, where it is uncomfortably hot even with Coldweave, yet others are used to transport small messages or to distribute water, and so on."

After a while they turned into one of the smaller corridors, and after a few more turns, they reached a small hall with tables and chairs. "Wait here, please" Jorbas said. "I will go and speak with Numadaya, the leader of my guild. Meanwhile, you will be served a second breakfast. So, please, make yourself feel at home. I will try to be back with you as soon as possible."

Jorbas left through a metal door and soon afterwards, skeletons with trays of tea and sweet bread appeared, serving them, and even though the service was ghastly, the tea and food was delicious. They ate, drank, and talked with hushed voices, the undead servants not helpful in making them feel more comfortable...


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## Lars Frehse

*Grateful Dead- part 2*

After more than an hour had gone by, and the patience of the companions had been put to a test, Jorbas announced that the guild master would now welcome them. He waved them into the room beyond the metal door, and it turned out that this was already the office of Numadaya.

Entering the room, the friends were surprised to see a young, attractive and fragile looking woman. All of them would have expected someone older to lead a guild of necromancers, and this woman looked far too innocent and vulnerable for this job.

The room was big, and the walls were covered with violet, purple and black tapestries. There was a thick black carpet on the floor and between the chairs and the desk, which were all made of ebony, there were small pots with orchids and trays with incense.

Numadaya herself had jet-black hair, which framed a face that looked like it was made of china. Whenever one of the friends looked at her, they were drawn to her big brown eyes, which dominated the face over a small nose and a pressed mouth. She wore a simple, loose black tunic, and as the friends entered, she was standing next to a small desk.

She greeted them with the melodic, little voice, of a young girl, and yet there was a firm quality to it, that gave a glimpse of the power that must have been at her command:" Welcome, travellers. Settle down, and tell me what brings you here."
The companions told her everything that had happened since they had arrived, again keeping Mina out of it, and Numadaya listened. She had a way to absorb information that urged the friends on to tell her every single detail. People just wanted to tell Numaday things ever since she had been a little girl, and soon she had found out that not only the living wanted to share things with her, and restless spirits had contacted her for all time since she could remember.

When the friends had finished, and it was clear that she had heard all there was to hear, she said:" Those are grave news, indeed. I will gather some Blackshields, our elite guards, and you will have to lead us to this brothel you told us about. I don't fully understand yet just what is going on here, but I will try to find out."

Again, the companions to ask in the waiting room, and after another long hour, in which they were served a little lunch by more undead servants, they were summoned again. This time, they met in the main-tunnel, which lead out of the Underfaust, and there were twenty men and women waiting for them. Some of them were necromancers, but others, the Blackshields, were clad in black armours and carrying black swords.

They left the Faust and went into Ghost town. It took the friends some time to find the right building. After all, most of the ruins looked alike in the light of day, and this part of the city was little more than a desert of rubble and grey dust under the scorching sun. Another problem was that they had entered from the north, and the night before from the east.

However, after some hours they had finally discovered the building where Ben and Torn had spent the last night. Several guards charged into the ruin- and came back empty handed after just a few minutes. The captain went up to Numadaya and announced:" The building is empty, madam. There are some indications of recent habitations, like empty, discarded bottles, some shards, and the like, but it is most certainly deserted.“

Numadaya turned to the friends: "Maybe somebody has warned them... I will go in and see if I can contact any spirits."

She disappeared in the ruin, and after a while she came back, a puzzled look on her face:" There are not even any spirits. I feel you are telling the truth, so whoever had organized the deserting of the building, must have found a way to make sure that the spirits stay silent as well..."

She shook her head: "I am afraid that there is little I can do for you now. If someone had tipped the cultists off, it might have been members of my own guild. Who knows, maybe even Blackshields..."


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## Nightfall

Gotta love them Belsamite Cultists!  They know how to handle "spirits" as well as the living.


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## Lars Frehse

*The grateful dead- part 3*

The companions were lead back into the living part of Hollowfaust, and as Numadaya said goodbye to them, they all felt that they had to start all over again. Somehow, the cultists had been warned. And even though this took them out of justice's reach for the moment, it also confirmed that there really was something sinister going on...

They stood in a crowded market, oblivious to the colours, smells, and noises around them, and discussed their situation. "We have to be more careful now, though", Trepat said. " We don't know how far the network of those cultists of hedonists, or whatever they are, goes. So for now we should try to avoid contacting officials. However, I don't know what else we could do next..."

"I know something, I think", Torn said, "We still have Siriak... If we use some pressure, he might help us. After all, he had been quaking in his shoes last nights".

They went to the guild house, where they were told that Siriak hadn't appeared to his job that day. Alarmed, they raced to his private house, a three-story merchant house in one of the better parts of the city, and knocked on the front door.

The door opened, and a grey and hardened human maid in her fifties asked:" What do you want? Master Siriak isn't at home".

"I see", Niklas said. "When do you think we can expect him back?“

"I don't know".

Jan pushed Niklas to the side:" When have you seen him for the last time?"

Cracks of suspicion suddenly appeared on the maid's forehead:" Who are you and why do you want to know?“

Trying to save things, Trepat interrupted Jan, who was about to speak:" Excuse me, mam, but we are private investigators who work with the Black Shields. Mr Siriak hasn't appeared at work today, and since one of his colleagues had been murdered recently, we are naturally worried."

The furrows on the maid's forehead remained, but at least she answered:" That is really worrying. He didn't come home last night, and I haven't seen him all day."

"Is there anything else of interest, for example, do you know where Siriak spends his nights?“ Trepat asked and immediately, the maid turned hard as stone again:" No, I don't. And unless you have some official papers to show me, I don't see why I should tell you in the first place!"

Seeing that there was nothing more to find out for now, Torn said:" I see. Well, let's hope that nothing had happened to Siriak, and in case there is anything you would like to tell us about, you can always find us at the Weary Pilgrim".

They left the entrance, and as soon as they were sure that they couldn't be seen, Niklas said:" I don't trust that woman at all".

Torn nodded:" Me neither. I think it is best if we keep an eye on that house." He turned to Niklas:" Maybe we should stay close together. We both can easily blend into the background".

Niklas agreed and they settled down in the surrounding to watch the house. Trepat's raven stayed close as well; ready to warn his master if Torn and Niklas should need help.

After a short while, the maid left the building. She looked to the left and right, and apparently unaware of the hidden eyes, which were resting on her, she turned to the right and swiftly left with long strides. Torn stayed some dozen yards behind her, followed by Niklas in turn.

Soon, Niklas noticed that Torn wasn't alone, and he once again felt glad that they had established a system of shadowing the shadower. Forming a row where the head was unaware of it's tail, they headed into a part of the town were warehouses and merchant-homes were standing side by side. The maid stopped in front of what looked like an abandoned warehouse, unlocked the door, and went in.

The two women who had followed Torn walked past the half-orc, and after a few turns, Niklas had followed them to the back-entrance of the warehouse, where they went in. Seeing that he would get no further here, he waved down Trepat's raven, and told him to tell his master to join him there. For the moment, Torn should wait at the front entrance, where they would stay in touch through the raven.

When his friends arrived, Niklas told them what he had seen so far. At least they could now be sure that the maid wasn't as innocent as she appeared, since she seemed to be in league with the mysterious pair of women. Eventually, they decided to enter the warehouse and ask for an explanation.

Torn, who ran over once the raven told him to, picked the lock, and together, they entered the warehouse. It was empty, and rays of sunlight fell in through the smudged windows and cut through the dust-filled air. The ground level of the house was one big hall and they could see the front door on the other side, and there was a spiral staircase, which led up through the ceiling.

Their nerves were strung as tight as violin-chords, and they pulled out their weapons. Signalling silently, they went to the staircase and climbed up, staying close together.

Jan was the first to arrive on the next floor, and expecting an ambush, he boldly jumped forward, his shield raised and his sword ready. However, what he saw didn't seem to warrant his attention: The three women were there, seated around a table, and from the looks of it, they were drinking tea.

The one Torn had seen at the door jumped up, and shouted in a firm voice:” What are you doing here? Get out, or I will call the guards!”

Jan folded his arms in front of his chest:” Well, if you really want to call the guards, go ahead! We know that you are up to no good, and the guards would probably be glad to hear about that, too!”

Ignoring him, the woman turned around and opened the window wide. She leaned out and shouted for the guards to come. And indeed, Hollowfaust being the lawful city it was, immediately a pair of guards arrived.


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## Nightfall

I could have told them calling the guards. Bad idea.   Oh well.


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## Nightfall

Yo! Lars! Where's that update?!!


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## Talix

As another reader who finally caught up after an absense, I am also very interested in finding out what happened with the guards of Hollowfaust!


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## Nightfall

Yes well I think Lars has given up the ghost...


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## Kiracat

Nooooooooo!  Come back, Lars!  Nobody does Scarn like you!


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## Nightfall

Yes sorry to say but I think this is end of Struggle and Strife.


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## Talix

Nightfall said:
			
		

> Yes sorry to say but I think this is end of Struggle and Strife.




Do you have some behind-the-scenes information to indicate that?  Just curious if I should really delete this off my bookmarks yet...


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