# Dreams of Erthe



## Richards (Jun 27, 2020)

The current 3.5 campaign I run as DM, "The Kordovian Adventurers Guild," has only one more session before we close it down.  (We should be playing that session on 11 Jul 20.)  The campaign before that, "Wing Three," ended with the PCs finding the pieces to a "universe seed," which would allow for the creation of a new universe once their current one got too old, and the deities of that nascent universe were to be patterned after the PCs who had gathered the seed.  Then we moved forward 20 years in the "Wing Three" campaign with new 1st-level PCs and ran "The Kordovian Adventurers Guild" for about five years in the same game world.

So, I've decided my next campaign is going to take place in that "future universe," which means this will be the first truly home-brewed campaign I've ever run; my previous D&D 3.5 campaigns have taken place in a modified Greyhawk setting, with tweaks made here and there as needed.  But this one I'll be building from the ground up.  (At least I already have the pantheon pretty much figured out, as I just had to divvy up the domains among the Wing Three PCs and their prominent NPCs, after whom the gods and goddesses will be patterned.)

The first thing I decided I wanted to do was have dreams play a major role in the campaign.  In fact, I intend to have some adventures take place entirely within the Dreamlands, with the PCs in their dream-bodies in a shared dream.  I actually plan on the PCs meeting up for the first time in the Dreamlands, as they'll have been gathered together by the Queen of Dreams for the specific purpose of them becoming her agents in the Mortal World, as she exists only in the Dreamlands and has no physical presence.  But there's a "dream plague" spreading across the continent, where people fall asleep and enter into a sort of suspended animation coma, stuck in their dreams and unable to escape without outside assistance - which is where the PCs will come in.  I envision at least the first half of the campaign involving the PCs traveling the continent, coming to the aid of those stuck in their dreams.

So, the reason the Queen of Dreams chooses the PCs will be because they're special: not only were they born with an inherent ability to cast a 0-level spell (from any spell list, regardless of their starting class) once per day, but they're some of the few people in the Mortal World who can wake up from a night's sleep (even the elves will sleep in this campaign, which is good because one player eventually decided to play an elf PC) having remembered their dreams.  This is imperative for an agent of the Queen of Dreams, who can only speak to her minions as they dream; she's had several frustrating attempts with others where she trains them as they sleep and then they don't remember anything about any of their training when they wake up.

So, here are the PCs my players have come up with, in the order of their creation.

My son Logan decided he'd try playing through a D&D 3.5 campaign in "hard mode," so he went with a half-orc cleric/paladin named *Wakuren* who wields no weapon, merely a shield.  Logan wants Wakuren to start out as a 1st-level cleric of Cal (God of the Air and Healing, and the primary god of the pantheon - kind of like Zeus), then take alternating levels of paladin and cleric from that point on.  We've decided he'll forgo having any paladin spells at all, but will gain cleric spells as if all of his paladin levels count as cleric levels.  (So at level X, he'll cast spells as an X-level cleric.)  Wakuren's 0-level ability is _disrupt undead_.

Here's Wakuren, as envisioned by Logan:




Next up, my 13-year-old nephew Harry who lives with us decided he wanted to try a human bard who played the lute.  He usually needs some help with coming up with a name for his PCs, so together we decided on *Xandro Silverstrings*.  Xandro wields a rapier and has the 0-level _ghost sound_ as his spell-like ability.

Here's the image Harry chose for Xandro:



Vicki, our only female player, decided she wanted to try running a dwarven cleric and came up with the name *Alewyth Putterpye*.  She's a cleric of Aerik, the God of Earth and Protection (as are most dwarven clerics in this campaign - he's the primary dwarven deity), but since "cleric of Aerik" sounds silly we decided they prefer being called priests and priestesses.  Alewyth's 0-level ability is _ray of frost_.

Not finding a female dwarf mini she liked, Vicki had one made for her in Hero Forge.  Here's the Alewyth mini, which is the image she decided on for her initiative card (note that female dwarves do not have beards in this campaign - Vicki has no desire for her PC to have a beard!):



Vicki's husband Dan had an idea he wanted to try out, similar to Logan's cleric/paladin: he wanted to alternate between fighter and wizard, possibly taking a prestige class later on that would advance both his swordsmanship and his arcane spellcasting (right now he's leaning on spellsword).  He was originally leaning towards making his PC an elf (as the elven fighter/mage is an old concept from AD&D 1st Edition, which is when he started playing), but then decided on a human named *Thurloe Pulver*.  His 0-level spell-like ability is _touch of fatigue_ and his first level will be as a fighter.

Dan also went with Hero Forge to have a custom-built mini for Thurloe:



And that left Dan and Vicki's 16-year-old son, Joey.  Joey has had a history of not being able to decide what he wants to play, and then when he finally gets that ironed out he has a tough time coming up with a name for his PC.  Literally months after the other four players had decided on their PCs, Joey finally decided he'd run an elven sorcerer...and then spent another month or so trying to come up with a name for his PC.  Finally, during our most recent Kordovian session, I sat him down in our family room with a pile of Scrabble vowel tiles and another pile of Scrabble consonant tiles, all turned over so he couldn't see them.  He picked four consonants and two vowels and then started rearranging them to see if he could come up with a name; when he couldn't, we started adding and jettisoning letters.  He finally ended up with CWILSON, which he immediately decided to re-spell "QUILSON" (fair enough - the Scrabble tiles were just a prompt to get the creative juices flowing), and then decided on the spot his PC would be named *Zander Quilson*.  Of course, I realized right away that "Zander" was an awful lot like "Xandro," but I think we'll probably have people refer to his elf PC as "Quilson" more so than "Zander."  In any case, Zander's 0-level spell-like ability is _cure minor wounds_.

Joey designed his elven PC via Hero Forge like his parents did.  Here's Zander Quilson the elven sorcerer, with a somewhat incongruous patch of beard on his chin (perhaps there's some human blood in his ancestry):



So, that's our lineup: a pacifistic half-orc cleric/paladin, a human bard, a dwarven cleric, a human fighter/wizard, and an elven sorcerer.  Our first gaming session in this new campaign won't be until July (specifically, after the 11 July end to our Kordovian campaign, so probably on 25 July as we usually play on Saturdays and we've been trying to shoot for every other weekend).

One other thing I've decided on for this campaign is to do away with tracking XP; instead, I'll have five adventures at each level from 1st to 20th, making for a nice, even 100 adventures - the same number as our "Wing Three" campaign had.  That will likely take some getting used to, but I want to give it a try.

Johnathan


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## Richards (Jul 3, 2020)

Here's the pantheon of the Erthe campaign, where each of the gods and goddesses is patterned after the prominent PCs and NPCs of the "Wing Three" campaign:

- The primary god is *Cal*, All-Father and Ruler of the Skies overlooking the entirety of Erthe. He is also the God of Medicine, and those seeking healing often find their way to one of his temples. Cal's domains are Air, Good, Healing, and Strength.  

-* Aerik *is the God of Earth and Stone, built as if carved from solid rock himself. Aerik's primary areas of concern include Protection – for what could protect better than a fortification built of solid stone? – as well as Loyalty, for his dedication to any task he performed was a strong as a rock. Aerik's domains are Earth, Good, Law, and Protection.  

-* Galrich*, the God of the Sea, has two different aspects: at times he is as calm as a lake on a windless day; at others, he roars and rages like a tsunami against a cliff. Galrich is also the God of Combat Prowess; it is said he could slip past his enemies' guard, as unstoppable as a wave. He is often depicted in a form said to be half human, half orca. Galrich's domains are Strength, Travel, War, and Water.  

- Often found in Galrich's wake, *Clem* is the Demigod of both Bravery and Fishing. As it tied in with both of his primary attributes, he is also the Demigod of Bluffing; many a card player whispers a silent prayer to Clem at the gaming table. Clem's domains are Animal, Luck, Trickery, and Water.  

- The God of Fire is a gaunt deity named *Telgrane* with flames burning from his eye sockets. He is associated with the Sun, the ever-burning orb of flames that cross the sky each day, as well as Knowledge, for it is said the desire for knowledge also burns within him. Telgrane's domains are Fire, Knowledge, Magic, and Sun.  

- The Goddess of Nature is *Feron*, Forest-Maiden, Queen of the Harvest. It was she who had first formed life upon the Erthe, and it is she who looks over her creations with a mother's love. Feron's domains are Animal, Healing, Plant, and Sun.  

*- Delphyne* is the Goddess of the Mysteries, the Rune-Queen, who first set forth the ways of magic. It was she who patterned the ley lines across the world, she who reads the future in the shapes of clouds and the patterns of the stars, she who first brought the magic of the written word to the inhabitants of Erthe.  Delphyne's domains are Knowledge, Law, Magic, and Travel.  

-* Rale* is the God of Night, the black-clad Master of Shadows and Secrets. He is associated with the Moon and with Stealth; when the fiery orb of the sun sinks below the horizon, Rale's power encompasses all those beneath the midnight sky. Rale's domains are Air, Chaos, Protection, and Trickery.  

- *Desdemona* is a lesser deity, the Demigoddess of Fertility. Farmers pray to her for a good growing season; would-be mothers pray to her for healthy babies to spring up from their bellies. Desdemona's domains are Air, Animal, Earth, and Plant.  

-* Infernia* is the Demigoddess of Love and Burning Desire.  She is often depicted as a beautiful woman whose entire body is sheathed in the flames of her passion.  Infernia's domains are Fire, Good, Healing, and Luck.  

- *Farthingale* is the Demigod of Wealth and Prosperity.  He is often depicted as a cheerful, overweight man and his temples often double as banks, moneylenders, and currency exchanges.  Farthingale's domains are Earth, Law, Luck, and Travel.  

- But Erthe is no primal paradise.  *Thunderwolf* is the fierce God of War, the Master of Weapons, and soldiers pour libations of blood to him before heading off into battle against their enemies. Thunderwolf's domains are Death, Destruction, Strength, and War.  

- Another god tied to a specific aspect of weapons mastery is *Chalkan*, the Bow-Lord, the God of Archery and Hunting. He is also the God of Innovation, always striving to seek new ways of doing things and combining multiple skills together. Chalkan's domains are Air, Animal, Knowledge, and War.  

- The fierce God of Death and Undeath is a skull-faced deity named *Akari*. It is said he was once a benevolent god of weapons, but fell from grace and turned to evil. As such he has minor sway over both Illusions and Transformation. Akari's domains are Death, Destruction, Evil, and Trickery.  

- The evil *Kazmira* is the Goddess of Theft and Seduction, said to be as capable of stealing a man’s heart as his purse of gold. Kazmira's domains are Chaos, Evil, Travel, and Trickery.  

- At Kazmira’s side is often found *Gareth*, the God of Betrayal. He is the craven personification of Envy, the Maker of Excuses, the Fault-Finder. He is worshiped primary by assassins and those who dare not face their opponents in fair battle. Gareth's domains are Chaos, Death, Destruction, and Evil.

So far, two of the PCs have chosen to play clerics, one of Cal and one of Aerik.  Interesting that neither player created a PC dedicated to the god or goddess of their own former PC: Wakuren, who'll be run by Logan, worships Cal, who was run by Dan; Alewyth, who'll be run by Vicki, worships Aerik, who was an NPC follower of Galrich, who was run by Jacob.  (Jacob is Dan and Vicki's older son, who no longer plays with us as he moved far enough away that it's easier for him to run his own game with his local friends than travel back home to game with us.)

I've also decided these are all the gods there are in the Erthe campaign.  There are no specifically elven or dwarven gods, for example; every race tends to depict the gods to look more like themselves (although Aerik is quite often given a dwarven aspect even by members of other races).  So a gnome and a goblin could very well worship their own versions of the very same god, both races praying to the same deity before waging war against the other.  I haven't decided about demon lords and archdukes of Hell and so forth; I may keep the titles but there won't be an Orcus, or a Demogorgon, or a Beelzebub, for example.  (Definitely no Lolth, as I've also decided the drow were the elven progenitor race, with a fallen, surface-dwelling empire on another continent.)

My son Logan created a variant paladin class for followers of Telgrane (one of his "Wing Three" PCs, who ended up becoming a half-fire elemental): they swap out the ability to turn undead for the ability to spontaneously set themselves ablaze an equal number of times per day, the flames encompassing their bodies extending to their weapons, so they both (bodies and weapons) deal fire damage to those struck.  He also decided the holy paladins of Telgrane's healing abilities do not remove burn scars, as they see burn scars as holy and a mark of honor.  I fully intend to use a few of these holy paladins of Telgrane in an encounter or two in this campaign; they're too cool of a concept to not use.

Johnathan


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## Richards (Jul 11, 2020)

So my nephew Harry is a big fan of console games, as my grown son Logan introduced him to them years ago and it was love at first sight - in fact, it was the Skylanders game that finally convinced Harry to give D&D a try when we persuaded him Logan could DM a campaign set in the Skylanders universe.  So towards the end of the Kordovian Adventurers Guild campaign I added some viera into an adventure; viera are women with bunny ears from one of the _Final Fantasy_ games.  (Harry would be able to rattle off which specific edition of the game and which viera are available to join your party in the game and so on; I'm just lucky to remember it was a _Final Fantasy_ game.)  But he enjoyed their inclusion (although not so much the fact they were enemies the PCs had to fight), so I decided I'd do something similar in the "Dreams of Erthe" campaign, only on a much bigger scale.

Without a doubt, Harry's favorite race in the _Final Fantasy_ series are moogles.  A moogle is a humanoid kitten with tiny little bat wings and a single antenna growing out of its forehead, from which dangles a pom-pom.  They usually end their sentences with the word "kupo."  Harry thinks they're the cutest things ever.  Here's one now:


(Apparently in some _Final Fantasy_ games the moogle has been redesigned to have rabbit features instead of kitten features, and in some games the moogles don't even have any arms!  But Harry views those as aberrations: in his mind, a _true_ moogle looks as depicted above.)

So I decided I needed to add moogles into the "Dreams of Erthe" campaign and I felt the best place to put them is in the Dreamlands.  Since there are going to almost have to be some obvious similarities between the Queen of Dreams and Dream of the Endless (the main character of Neil Gaiman's excellent _Sandman_ comic book/graphic novel series), I figured there should be some "dream workers" who set up the landscapes for individual dreams, and that's where the moogles will come in - they're the Queen's hirelings and helpers, so to speak.  And, just like her, they'll only appear in the Dreamlands, not having any sort of corporeal existence.  (That was another design choice on my part to try to differentiate the Queen of Dreams from Dream of the Endless; in addition to making her female, I also heavily scaled back her abilities: Dream of the Endless is more powerful than even the gods and can walk about in the Waking World and affect events as needed.  I actually need the Queen of Dreams to not be able to have any direct effect upon the Waking World, so there will be a need for the job the PCs will be tasked with doing.)

So I've already crafted the individuals dreams the PCs will start out in during their first adventure, and each of them involves a moogle.  I'm sure Harry will enjoy their inclusion into the campaign, and by keeping them as members of the Dreamlands only I avoid having to take the goofy-looking fuzzballs seriously.

By the way, we're scheduled to finish off our Kordovian campaign this afternoon.  So we may well be starting up "Dreams of Erthe" in two weeks!

Johnathan


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## Richards (Jul 28, 2020)

*ADVENTURE 1: GOTTA FIND THE QUEEN OF ALL MY DREAMS*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 1​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 1​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 1​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 1​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 1​
Game Session Date: 25 July 2020

- - -

Xandro stood behind the stage curtain, waiting for the tavernkeeper to announce him.  A young man in his early twenties, he'd been up and down the western part of the small continent, stopping off at inns and taverns, paying for his room and board and perhaps a bit of travel coin by performing songs for the customers.  A bard by trade, he specialized in the lute and had a prodigious memory of hundreds of songs; he also was pretty good at reading a crowd and performing the songs and ballads they'd best like to hear.

In a booming voice on the other side of the curtain, the tavernkeeper called out, "Ladies and Gentlemen, we are proud to have with us here tonight the incomparable Xandro Silverstrings!"

That was his cue.  Stepping forward onto the stage, lute in hand, Xandro smiled out at the crowd and was ready to sing the first ballad of the evening.  But something was wrong: the audience, instead of settling down in expectant silence, began to laugh.  The laughter built up and everyone started pointing at Xandro, some of them laughing so hard now tears were streaming down the sides of their faces.

Looking down, Xandro saw at once what was so funny: he'd apparently forgotten to put on any clothes before tonight's performance – he was standing up on stage completely naked!  His face flushed with embarrassment as he found himself suddenly paralyzed with indecision about what to do - should he cover himself as best he could with his lute, or run off stage?  How could he have forgotten to get dressed?  It didn't make any sense!

"Pssst!" came a sudden voice from behind the curtain.  Xandro looked over and saw a strange being hovering in the air: a humanoid figure with kitten features and covered in white fur, with a pair of tiny wings on his shoulders and a large, red ball suspended from a single antenna on his forehead.  "Quick, this way, kupo!" the creature called out, holding the curtain aside with one kittenish paw and motioning for the bard to follow him.

Without further hesitation, Xandro rushed off the stage behind the curtain, following behind the flying kitten-thing - only to find the two of them in a meadow filled with colorful butterflies fluttering all around.  They flocked to the startled human - how had they gotten here? - merging together into a normal set of clothing as they alighted upon his naked flesh.  In mere moments, it was as if Xandro had never forgotten to get dressed before his performance.

"What manner of being are you?" Xandro asked the flying kitten-thing.  "Are you...some kind of angel?"

"I'm a moogle, kupo!" replied the strange little being - for had he been standing beside the bard, it's likely the top of his fuzzy little head wouldn't have reached more than halfway up the human's thigh.  But he remained hovering in place, his little bat wings flapping furiously.

"Where are we going?" Xandro asked his strange guide as the moogle led him through the meadow.

"We're off to see the Queen of Dreams, kupo!" answered the moogle, as if that explained everything.  Oddly enough, it explained enough; Xandro relaxed in the comfort that he hadn't just walked naked onto a stage before an expectant audience after all - it had been (and apparently still was) just a dream.  Contentedly, the bard followed the flying moogle across the field of waving grasses.

- - -

Zander Quilson found himself standing in the middle of a field of tall grasses and experienced that odd sensation of having forgotten exactly what it was he had just been doing.  Then he raised his hands to the sides of his mouth and called out a name as if expecting to get an answer - but nobody replied.  He recognized the name he'd been calling, though: it was the name of a cooshee he'd had years ago as a small child.  It was odd that he'd be out here in a meadow looking for him, though - that elven dog had died many years ago.

Suddenly, a sharp, canine bark came from some distance away.  Zander recalled how far a cooshee's bark could carry and he called the name out again, hearing a faraway bark in reply.

Suddenly the grasses parted before the astonished elf.  While he had fully expected the great head of his childhood cooshee to pop out of the tall grasses, what he saw instead was a kittenish face, with a lone red ball dangling from its sole antenna.  The gray-furred creature rose up from the grasses, propelled by rapidly-flitting bat wings.

"Don't worry about your elven dog," replied the moogle, "we're off to go see the Queen of Dreams, kupo!"

Oddly, this didn't seem any less plausible to the elven sorcerer than the far-off call of a cooshee who had been dead for decades, and he allowed the moogle to take him by the hand and lead him out of the meadow.

- - -

Wakuren washed his face from the water in the basin and dried it with a towel.  Then, stepping outside the washroom, he took a right and headed for the men's barracks shared by the aspirants seeking to follow Cal's calling and enter the priesthood of the God of the Heavens.  Tomorrow, he knew, would be the initiation ceremony, where the new aspirants would be formally entered into the priesthood of Cal.

"Hold up a moment," called a voice from behind the half-orc.  Turning, Wakuren saw a trio of the other aspirants in his class climbing up the stairs, all three of them full-blooded humans.  They hadn't been friendly to the half-orc during their months of training, barely deeming to talk to him at all; it seemed odd to Wakuren that they wanted to talk to him now.

But talk wasn't apparently on their minds, given one of them threw a sudden punch to Wakuren's face as he turned in their direction.  The other two raced to Wakuren's side, flanking him in the wide hallway.

Wakuren had done his best to restrain his orcish heritage; he knew he had a fearsome face and constantly did his best to counterbalance his physical appearance with a calm, pleasant demeanor.  But that didn't mean he was a pushover; he countered in kind and smashed his fist into the eminently punchable face of the human who'd just sucker-punched him.  Blood flew from his nose as consciousness fled his body; that was one down, Wakuren thought grimly to himself.  Two more to go!

But then the two multiplied into four as a pair of burly dwarves exited the room into which Wakuren had been heading: their shared bunkroom during the time they were in training as clerics of Cal.  If Wakuren expected any help from this quarter he was in for an immediate reawakening, for they punched at the half-orc with their full strength behind their fists.  Under such concentrated attack by so many foes, Wakuren was quickly brought to unconsciousness himself.

But not for long, for he fluttered his eyelids after what seemed like only a moment and saw a strange face looking down at him.  This creature was neither human nor dwarf: it had the face of a kitten, with a dangling antenna emerging from his forehead, at the end of which hung a red ball.  The moogle hung suspended in the air over the half-orc, wings flapping to keep him in place.

"There you are, kupo!" he said, helping Wakuren to his feet.  The half-orc noted with puzzlement he was no longer where he'd been, for the hallway outside the aspirants' barracks in the training quarter of the temple of Cal had given way to an opulent building with elaborate white marble columns; if this was still the temple of Cal it was likely the interior of the head cleric's section, a place Wakuren had never seen before.

"C'mon, we don't want to keep the Queen of Dreams waiting -  do we, kupo?" asked the moogle, leading Wakuren down a series of strange corridors to an audience chamber.

- - -

Alewyth Putterpye knew without fear of possible contradiction that she was hopelessly lost.  She wasn't sure where she'd taken the wrong turn, but the familiar tunnels of her underground dwarven city had somehow given way to strange corridors that branched off in all different directions.  And the doors!  There were more doors than she'd ever seen clustered together before; she doubted they could contain anything but narrow, parallel corridors, so closely were they butted up against each other.  Worse yet, each seemed to be locked, not that entering them was likely to help her find her way back to her own familiar home tunnels.

No, backtracking the way she'd come seemed eminently more sensible, but every time she turned around and went back the way she'd just come the way seemed strange, completely different from what she'd just seen.  She was starting to wonder if there was something wrong with her; thinking back, she tried to recall if she'd been hit on the head or something.

After what seemed like many hours of frustrated wandering, the dwarven woman finally met another living person in the tunnels.  But what a strange being this was: an upright kitten with tiny wings on his shoulders and a red ball dangling by an antenna from his forehead.

"_There_ you are, kupo!" the moogle exclaimed, grabbing an astonished Alewyth by the hand.  "I've been looking _everywhere_ for you, kupo!  Come on, we need to get to the audience chamber before the Queen of Dreams shows up – it wouldn't be very polite of us to be late, now, would it, kupo?"  Even more confused now than she'd been mere moments before, the priestess of Aerik allowed the moogle to take her through various twisting, turning tunnels, hoping he at least knew how to get her to where she was supposed to be.

- - -

Thurloe Pulver stepped boldly into the combat circle under the glowering eyes of his combat trainer, *Donegal Garabedian*.  Across the way from him, his opponent stepped over the edge of the circle into the arena.  This, Thurloe knew, was the test that would send one of them to the next level of swordsmanship training by the grizzled instructor, and the other one home in disgrace.

The young human glared at his opponent: a man his own age, with roughly the same level of training.  He nodded at Thurloe and then, at Donegal's curt "Begin!" pulled the bastard sword smoothly from the scabbard on his back.  He took the weapon in a two-handed grip, holding it up straight before him.

Thurloe moved his hand to his opposite shoulder and went to do the same - but grabbed only empty air.  With a shock of horror, he realized he'd stepped into the combat ring without bringing his own weapon with him!  A quick glance at Donegal showed the instructor's complete disdain for such a boneheaded maneuver and a complete disinterest in stopping the combat to allow Thurloe to go fetch what he should have brought with him in the first place.  How could he have been so stupid?

But then all such thoughts had to be pushed to the back of his brain, for Thurloe's opponent was upon him, his blade slashing down at the young fighter.  Thurloe just barely managed to dodge out of the way of the slashing blade; it was going to take everything he had to defeat his opponent without the use of his own bastard sword!

However, there was one obvious ploy Thurloe could use.  Channeling energy into his hand, he struck out at his opponent, activating the _touch of fatigue_ power into his foe's body.  The wince it elicited told Thurloe the maneuver had worked; his enemy would find it just that extra bit harder bringing the full force of his bastard sword into play!  Now, if he could somehow maneuver to wrest his foe's sword away from him somehow....

Thurloe dodged another blow, this one coming at him laterally - he was pleased to hear the grunt of effort that accompanied the swing.  Thurloe stepped inside the foe's reach, punching him right on the nose.  He'd hoped the surprise maneuver would have loosened his opponent's grip upon his sword - enough for Thurloe to pull it away, in any case - but it turned out not to have been necessary: the force of the blow knocked his combat foe into instant unconsciousness, his eyes crossing before they closed and he plummeted to the floor.

Behind the foe, though was another creature: a flying kitten-thing with a large red pom-pom dangling at the end of an antenna jutting from the creature's brow.  Incongruously, he held a ceramic flowerpot over his head.  "Oh, I thought you needed me to help you - never mind, kupo!" the moogle said, setting down the flower pot he'd been ready to smash over the other swordsman's head at the edge of the combat circle in which Thurloe had just been victorious, without the aid of a weapon of his own.

"In any case, we've got to get going, kupo!" the little moogle said.  "We don't want to keep the Queen of Dreams waiting, kupo!"  And then, grabbing the fighter's hand, he led Thurloe away from an astonished Donegal Garabedian's training center.

- - -

The five dreamers met up in a large chamber, each of them having been led there by their own personal moogle guide.  "Where exactly are we?" asked Zander, looking around him.  He couldn't recall when they'd left the meadow and made it indoors.

"We're in the Dreamlands, kupo!" explained his guide.

"Then this is all a dream?" asked Alewyth.  That actually explained a lot.

"It sure is, kupo!  And we're about to go see the ruler of the Dreamlands - come on, kupo!"  A pair of double doors opened up and the ten beings entered the room beyond, half of them by air and the other five on foot.  A wide chamber stood on the other side of the doors, with dark marble floors streaked with swirls of colors.  Seated upon an elevated white throne in the back of the room was a young woman with delicate features.  She wore a silver tiara over her jet-black hair and a fancy gown of midnight blue with a butterfly pattern; it may have only been a trick of the light, but on occasion one or more of these butterflies seemed to flap their wings.  Xandro looked down at his own clothes, recalling how a flock of butterflies had merged together to form them, but they appeared to be nothing more than his own normal clothes.

"Welcome," said the woman, smiling down at the five visitors from her lofty perch.  "I am the Queen of Dreams.  I have brought you here, to my realm, to set you on a task only you – or those like you – can perform in the Waking World."

"Us...Your Majesty?" stammered Alewyth, wondering if that was the proper way to address the Queen of Dreams.  Apparently it sufficed, for the dwarf was offered no corrections.

"Yes, the five of you.  You may not know it, but each of you is special, a type of person very uncommon among the races of the Waking World.  Not only can each of you use a spark of magic in a special way, completely differently than the spellcasting some of you are also capable of performing, but more importantly: you recall your dreams when you awaken in the morning.  Not only sometimes, not just on special occasions: always.  Is this not true?"

The five looked among themselves and admitted that yes, it was true.  "But what of it, Your Majesty?" asked Xandro.  "How does this aid us in this task you mentioned?"

"Because you can be trained - here, in the Dreamlands, as your bodies rest in slumber - and upon awakening, you will have retained the lessons you have been taught.  I have taught many others in the past, but almost without fail, upon awakening their dreams fade away to nothingness and all the knowledge imparted upon them - gone.  It is, I must admit, very frustrating."

"What will we be trained to do while we dream?" asked Thurloe.  He wanted to hear more about the specifics of this "task" they were being given.

"There is a strange disease making its way known in the Waking World, one in which people are falling asleep and being trapped in their dreams: they cannot awaken on their own and cannot be forcibly awakened by others, not even by those in the Dreamlands.  I know: we have tried.  I will have my moogles train you in dream manipulations, so you may enter the dreams on your own and learn to interact with them, perhaps even shape them to your own will and rescue the dreamers caught within like flies in a spider's web."

"Dream warriors," mused Xandro.

"In a manner of speaking, yes.  During the night, we will see to your training in dream manipulation, while in the Waking World, you will travel to the sites of those who have already succumbed to the dream-sickness.  I believe in many cases it will become necessary for you to enter the dream from the source, at the side of the actual dreamer caught in his or her own dream."

"What else can you tell us about this sickness, Your Majesty?" asked Zander.

"It appears to be confined to your own continent - at least for now.  It does not seem to be communicable; you cannot 'catch it' by being in contact with someone already under its influence.  And this is a strange thing: those afflicted seem to undergo a sort of stasis - they do not waste away from lack of food, nor do they die of thirst, despite taking in no sustenance at all.  But as to how it came to be, we do not know.  In time, as you learn to combat the disease, perhaps we will learn more.  In the meantime, please approach the throne."

The five did as asked; the moogles all stayed back, apparently realizing the request had not been made to them.  Oddly, the walls of the throne room began melting, as the floor began flexing and shifting, bucking up as if in the throes of an earthquake.  Alewyth looked up at the ceiling, aware of the dangers of a collapse during an earthquake, but the ceiling was gone; in its place was a vast field of stars and entire galaxies.  Then, as the last of the walls melted away, the butterfly wings formed by the throne room floor fluttered and the throne took off into the night sky.

A star-field loomed ahead; as the enraptured visitors watched in awe, the stars each grew in size and took on the appearance of individual bubbles.  "Each of these is a separate dream," the Queen explained.  "Each an entire world unto itself, playing out in the mind of the one dreaming that particular dream.  Come, we will explore."

The butterfly throne pierced the skin of a dream-bubble, disappearing as everyone stepped cautiously into the dream itself.  A little girl of about six years old sat swinging back and forth on a swing situated at the very edge of a cliff.  She did not appear to see any of the visitors to her dream, content upon her swinging, nor did she seem overly concerned by her proximity to the cliff's edge.  "Right now, we are merely observers," the Queen explained.  "In time, you will be taught how to enter another's dreams fully, to interact with the dream images directly."

"But what about--" began Wakuren before suddenly vanishing, as if instantly teleported away.

"I see one of you has awoken," the Queen of Dreams said sadly.  "Very well, we will continue this another night.  In the meantime, it would perhaps be best if you decided among yourselves where you should meet in the Waking World, for it would be to your advantage to travel together as a group.  Two of your number – Thurloe and the now-missing Wakuren – are already in Port Duralia, and Aelwyth is headed there directly.  I would therefore recommend that be your point of introduction.”

"I'm at an inn ten hours or so away by foot," said Xander.

"Same here," said Zander.

"But I've been to Port Duralia before," added the bard.  "Where shall we meet?"

"How about the Pantheonic Temple, under construction?" suggested Thurloe.  "Alewyth here's headed there anyway, and it'll be easy for those of you who haven't been there before to find."

"Sounds good," agreed Zander.  "But what about the half-orc?  He doesn't know where we agreed to meet up."

"That was the holy symbol of Cal around his neck," Alewyth observed.  "I'd imagine he's at the temple of Cal, if he's already there in Port Duralia."

"Makes sense," agreed Thurloe.  "Okay then, Pantheonic Temple at, say, dinner time?"  The others agreed - and just in time, too, for one by one they began disappearing from the Dreamlands.

"What's happening?" asked Zander, finding himself suddenly alone with the still-swinging girl at the edge of the cliff.

"That's easy," said a kittenish voice from behind the elf, "You're all waking up, kupo!"

- - -

The next morning, Xandro got up, dressed, and said his farewells to the tavernkeeper and his wife.  He now recalled, while he was awake, that the previous evening's session had gone perfectly well; there had been no neglecting the wearing of clothing during his performance and the tavern owner had been pleased enough by the extra business the bard had brought in that besides the free room and board they'd agreed upon he also handed him a small pile of silver coins.  Xandro scooped up his bonus earnings and promised to swing by the tavern for a repeat performance the next time he was passing through this way.

A half hour down the road, though, he was accosted by a pair of leather-armored men riding upon horseback.  "Well, what have we here?" asked one of the horsemen before answering his own rhetorical question.  "Looks like a lone traveler who forgot to pay his tax!"

"What tax?" demanded Xandro, although he was sure he knew what "tax" the man was asking about.  The bard knew full well there was no tax levied for using the common roadways between towns and cities in this part of the kingdom.

"How much have you got on you?" demanded the other horseback rider.  Xandro didn't fail to notice the rogue's hand had dropped to the hilt of the sword he wore at his belt.

Deciding to play along for now, hoping if he stalled long enough another passer-by might come within sight on the stretch of road, Xander replied, "Ten gold."  That was true, too, for besides the ten pieces of silver the tavernkeeper had just given him he had another nine gold crowns in the coin purse he wore at his own belt.

"Well, ain't that a coincidence?" sneered the first horseman.  "Ten gold, that's the cost of the tax."

"And that fancy rapier you got," added his partner.  "And that dagger, too - you can keep the lute; don't none of us play no lute."  If he had any concerns that this "tax increase" completely destroyed any credibility of their status of actual tax collectors, they never actually made it all the way to his brain.

"Well, I'd be more than happy to pay the coins over," replied Xandro, again stalling for time, "but I've never heard of a tax to include weapons."

"Well, this one does," answered the second thief.  "Now hand 'em over!"

Down the way a bit, Zander Quilson stepped back from behind a tree, where he'd been relieving himself - "replenishing nature," as he liked to call it.  He'd heard the conversation behind him and had no doubts that this was two highway thieves shaking down a poor traveler.  More likely than not, if the victim turned over his weapons they'd kill him on the spot so he couldn't pass on their descriptions to the law.

But Xandro had come to a similar conclusion on his own.  "Here!" he called, hurling his coin pouch at the first thief's face, who had to duck and swipe at the pouch before it fell from his grasp.  And that kept his attention focused long enough for the young bard to whip out his rapier from its place on his belt and send it stabbing at the distracted thief's leg.  The robber cried out in pain, then both thieves sent their horses forward, their own short swords in hand ready to strike down the upstart traveler.

Xandro ducked below both sword-strikes as Zander cast a _magic missile_ spell at the thief Xandro had stabbed - the one with the bard's money grasped greedily in his hand.  The thief whirled his horse around at this sudden attack, saw the sorcerer standing in the road behind him, and sent his steed charging at him.  He leaned over to stab at the elf as he passed, but Zander easily dodged the man's clumsy blade.

The other thief had better luck, his blade cutting a nick across Xandro's sleeve.  "Never shoulda fought back," the thief called down to the bard.  "Now, we _gonna_ kill ya!"  But his bravado was punctured as rapidly as Xandro sent the point of his rapier into the man's meaty thigh, and he squealed like a stuck pig - which, as Xandro thought about it, wasn't an entirely unfair comparison.

Zander brought down the first thief with another casting of a _magic missile_ spell, causing the man to topple off the saddle to land in a lifeless heap on the ground.  Zander curbed his immediate impulse to go after the horse, figuring he'd better help the guy the two thieves had been shaking down.  The heavier of the two thieves struck down at Xandro with his sword, getting in another successful strike, before Xandro pushed the point of his rapier straight through the man's torso, piercing his heart.  "Urk," gurbled the thief, and as last words went it wasn't particularly memorable.  He fell off his horse and the bard caught up the horse's reins, calming it as best he could.  Seeing all was well, Zander got the other horse back under control and leaped up into the saddle, riding to go see if the other guy was okay.  It was only when they met up that they recognized each other.

"Xandro!"

"Zander!  Boy, your name's going to be easy to remember!  I didn't realize you'd been staying at the same inn as I was!"

"Yeah, that'll make it easier for all of us to get together; at least two of us have managed to join up already."

"And we each got a free horse out of the deal," replied Xandro.  "Hang on, I want to go get my coin purse back from that guy.  Then we can make much better time to Port Duralia than I'd planned - I know this really nice tavern we can wait in until it's time to go hit the Pantheonic Temple."

"Sounds like a deal," replied Zander.

- - -

Alewyth Putterpye sat in the one-seat cart behind the goat trotting down the road from the north, squinting at the sight before her.  A pony, complete with saddle and loaded saddlebags but missing a rider, came trotting up to her from the opposite direction.  Just beyond, the dwarf could see a man sitting by the side of the road, wincing in pain and holding the back of his head, his fingers wet with blood.  Just beyond the man was a large pile of rocks of various sizes, likely having toppled down the nearly-sheer side of the mountain to the right of the road.  A groaning sound seemed to be coming from the rock-pile, if it wasn't coming from the bloody-headed man.

With a word, Alewyth brought the goat to a halt; with another, both goat and cart reverted to their statuette form.  The dwarven priestess pocketed the ivory figurine and made calming motions and gestures to the obviously distraught pony, who eventually allowed the dwarf to turn it around and lead it back south towards the bleeding man.

"Are you okay?" Alewyth called to the man.  She could see very well that he was not, and while she could very easily stop his bleeding with a simple healing spell she was first and foremost an adherent of Aerik, God of Earth and Protection, and there was no sense in trying to protect anyone else if you couldn't protect yourself first.  Alewyth didn't believe this was a form of subterfuge in support of an ambush, but she recognized it as at least a possibility.  "What happened?"

"I was headed south, on my pony, when out of nowhere a rock came crashing down in front of us.  The pony was startled and reared up; I fell off the back of the fool thing and hit my head."  Alewyth had cautiously approached during his tale and now stood by the man's side.  His tale was likely true; she could tell, as could any dwarf, just by the sight of the rocks ahead that they'd fallen into that position only recently.  She pried the man's fingers away from his head, his hair sticky with his own blood, and cast a _cure light wounds_ spell on the gash.  Her cautiousness was now dismissed; this was no ambush but a fellow traveler in need.

But the moaning continued further to the south.  Helping the man up and giving him back the reins to his pony, Alewyth walked south with him to find a pair of limbs jutting out from beneath the fallen rocks.  The man pinned under the slabs of stone wore nothing more than simple furs, which puzzled the dwarf - the barbarians didn't usually stray this close to the roads, preferring the untamed lands at the continent's center, not along the Shieldwall Mountains that ringed the edges of Armaturia, where the civilized towns and cities were found.

Still, whoever he was, he obviously needed assistance.  "Give me a hand with this, if you would," asked Alewyth.  The merchant scrambled into place to help, and with a voiced countdown, they lifted a heavy slab of rock off of the fur-clad individual who had been pinned beneath it.  With a grunt of effort, they shoved it off to the side.

The figure crawled away and stood up, looking fearfully at the dwarf and the human with darting eyes.  He stood hunched over, and with a shock Alewyth realized that, despite the fact this person stood almost a head taller than she did, this was just a child: a hill giant child!

Alewyth had no love for giants; no dwarf did.  But this was just a mere boy, probably a lad of no more than a dozen years, if even that.  "GYAH!" Aelwyth yelled, raising her arms to make herself seem bigger.  It had the intended effect: the young hill giant scampered off, looking up at the steep mountainside to find the best location with which to regain his higher perch.  For though his face burned crimson with the thought of it, *Jarbok* knew this was all his fault: he'd been throwing rocks down at the passersby below and had almost hit the human on the pony, when he lost his footing and came tumbling down the mountainside himself, bringing a landslide of stones with him.  But to have been rescued by a dwarf!  His clan, he knew, must never hear of this - or he'd never hear the end of it!

Alewyth turned back to the merchant she'd helped.  "Just a fool kid," she replied.  "You going to be okay, then?"

"I will indeed, thanks to you," he said, opening one of the pony's saddlebags and rummaging around in it.  "But here, I want to give you something to repay you for your assistance," he added.

"That's not necessary, sir," Alewyth replied, but the merchant was quite insistent.  It ended up being simpler to just accept the man's gift and see him on his way than to try to argue him out of it.  But then, once he'd gone his way, the dwarven priestess pulled the _ivory goat cart_ figurine and brought it back to life with a command word.  She sat back down in the seat and urged the goat forward.  Hidden inside the storage compartment with the rest of her gear was the keystone her Temple had crafted for the Pantheonic Temple of Port Duralia, and the dwarf was eager to get it handed off.  Then she could meet up with these other four men - in person this time, not just in a dream - and see what she could do about these people caught up in this dream-sickness.  The priestess had never imagined dreams were something from which a person might need protection, but if that was Aerik's will for her she was nothing if not a dutiful dwarf.

- - -

A knock upon the door brought Thurloe begrudgingly back to consciousness.  Despite his earlier dream, he'd been quite successful in the elimination arena the day before - he'd brought his bastard sword into the ring with him and everything - and had graduated from Donegal Garabedian's combat school with top honors.  To celebrate, the young fighter had perhaps imbibed a bit too much ale last night and now his head pounded.  "Hang on, I'm coming!" he called out, rising up from the bed and seeing he was still fully clothed from the night before.  Yeah, that seemed about right.  He shook his head to clear the cobwebs and opened the door to the room he had rented in a tavern in the low quarter of Port Duralia.  And there before him stood a goblin.

"Oh, hello, *Borlick*," Thurloe said.  "What are you doing here?"

Borlick held a large book in both hands and passed it over to the human.  "*Mistress Jandoval* expresses her regrets, but she has been suddenly called away for an unknown duration," the goblin stated.  "She has left you with this: a book of simple spells, with several annotations as to their practical application.  She believes you should have the required ability to train yourself in their use, given sufficient study."  The slight sniff the goblin gave at the end of this statement belied the fact he had doubts as to Thuroe's abilities in that regard.  Nonetheless, he dutifully passed over the leatherbound tome, then turned and exited the fighter's rented room.

"Yeah, thanks," replied Thurloe, dropping the book on the table and turning back to his bed.  He'd no sooner flopped back onto the mattress when he heard signs of a scuffle outside.  Groaning in weary resignation, he opened the door back up and looked outside.

A group of kids were amusing themselves by throwing rocks and insults at Borlick and calling him names; they apparently thought he was acting “above his station” given many goblins were slaves and this one was dressed in elegant clothing - as befit the personal servant to a wizard, as he'd been a willing vassal to Mistress Jandoval for as long as Thurloe had known them both.  Borlick tried to ward off the blows but steadfastly refused to fight back, no doubt realizing the law wouldn't take his side if he hurt a human child.

"Hey!" yelled Thurloe, stepping outside and waving his bastard sword around threateningly.  Then he felt somewhat foolish, for the hand-and-a-half sword was as long as some of these kids were tall and there was no way a fight between a bunch of gutter-rat kids armed with pebbles and an adult human male in his prime wielding a bastard sword was going to make the adult look like anything more than a bully.  "Get out of here, you little snots!" he added.

This only had the effect of making him a secondary target, as some of the little snots started throwing rocks his way.  "Go on, get in the room," Thurloe called to Borlick, who instantly complied.  "I'll handle these weasels!"

"You think?" called back the leader of the kids, this one sporting a long dagger he'd picked up from somewhere.  "You and what army?"

Thurloe sprinted forward, his sword on his shoulder as if ready to strike, but then he kicked out - hard - at one of the kids, catching him between the legs with the toe of his boot.  The lad crumpled over in white-faced agony as his other two guttersnipe companions high-tailed it.  So did the leader, but not without calling back, "Ooh, big man, picking on a bunch of little kids!" as he ran away, brandishing his middle finger towards Thurloe.  Thurloe mirrored the gesture right back at him.  "...and stay away, if you know what's good for you!" he called back, immediately regretting making threats to a kid not yet old enough to need to shave.  Aah, screw it, he needed a drink.

Walking back inside his rented room, Borlick met him with the dry observation, "It's a good thing you have your sword to fall back on, in case your arcane studies prove to be beyond your capabilities."

"Yeah, well, you're welcome," replied the fighter as the goblin butler left his room, closing the door behind him.  Then he went back to bed, certain he'd have plenty of time to meet up with the others at the Pantheonic Temple.  They weren't scheduled to meet there until dinnertime, after all.  Before long, Thurloe was back asleep - and snoring.

- - -

Wakuren woke up with a start – he was sprawled on the floor at the bottom of a set of stairs, being slapped awake by a stern-faced cleric of Cal.  “Disgraceful!” sneered the scowling old man, looking down at the wine stains on the half-orc's robes and the empty bottle in his hand.

Frowning, Wakuren struggled to recall what had happened.  With dawning awareness, he realized his dream the night before - about being ambushed by the other aspirants to the priesthood of the All-Father, Cal - had been no dream at all.   He had been beaten up by the other aspirants and left at the bottom of the stairway; anyone questioning the bruises on his face and body would no doubt assume he'd gotten them from falling down the stairs in a drunken stupor.  The half-orc could smell the reek of wine on his clothes and could taste it in his mouth – it had been poured liberally on the front of his robes and the aspirants had no doubt filled his mouth with wine once he was unconscious at the bottom of the stairs.

The old man marched Wakuren straight to the head cleric of the temple and sternly explained how he had found the half-orc, passed out after having gotten drunk on stolen wine and crashing senselessly down the stairs.  He passed the empty bottle to the head cleric.  "This was in his hand," he told him.

The head cleric, *Father Peartree*, frowned intently at the half-orc.  "I believe," he informed Wakuren, "that under the circumstances it would perhaps be best if you left the temple without undergoing the graduation ritual, which would make you an official cleric of the Church of Cal."

"Don't you wish to hear my side of the story, Holy Father?" asked Wakuren.

"I don't think anything you might say would erase the evidence before our eyes," replied the old cleric who had found the half-orc at the bottom of the stairs, but Father Peartree raised his hand and the man drew silent.

"I don't think it would matter as much as you might imagine," Father Peartree told the half-orc.  "On the one hand, you might be a drunkard, drinking yourself into a stupor on stolen wine.  If not - if we ignore the evidence before us and assume, as you will no doubt attest, that this was a cruel hoax played upon you by others - it only shows that you are a disruptive influence on the other members of the church.  Therefore, for the sake of the overall harmony of this organization, either way the end is the same: it would be best for you to depart from our ranks."

"You know a _zone of truth_ spell is well within the ability of the church," countered Wakuren.

"Indeed it is," agreed Father Peartree.  "Even so."  And that was apparently that.

Wakuren fought back the indignant fury that threatened to erupt from his orcish frame.  Instead, swallowing down the roar of rage he felt wanted to burst from his throat, he merely turned his head to the side and asked, "Would you like to strike the other cheek, before I go?"  When that got no response from either of the men, Wakuren merely said, "Karma has a way of returning to the fold."  With that, he turned around and made his way back to the aspirants' barracks, back on course on the trip he had started the evening before but had yet to finish.  He found he had the place to himself; all the other male aspirants had already dressed and gathered in the main temple in preparation of the ceremony ushering them officially into the Church of Cal.

The half-orc dressed himself in his best robes, wearing his highly-polished armor and picking up his heavy metal shield, also lovingly polished to a high sheen.  He wore no weapon at his belt; knowing his fearsome appearance already put others ill at ease he'd sworn he would wield no weapon save his shield, a symbol of defense only.  But he wore the holy symbol of the All-Father around his neck just as if he'd been inducted formally into the church; he'd already paid for all of these items with the money he'd earned over the years working for the church, where he'd been abandoned shortly after his birth by a human mother no doubt too ashamed to be associated with a mongrel son she'd never wanted in the first place.  Then, all of his other worldly possessions placed into a simple backpack, he straightened his shoulders and walked proudly through the halls of the temple building that had been his home for most of his life.  If he was forced to leave this place against his will, then by the All-Father he would walk out with his head held high, and through the front door, daring anyone to try to stop him.

No one dared; the halls were empty, with everyone preparing for the induction ceremony for the other aspirants.  Wakuren stepped outside through the front doors, not sure where to go and what to do with himself.  He needed to meet up with the others from the Dreamlands, but he'd been pulled from the shared dream when the old cleric had slapped him awake and he had no idea where they'd planned on meeting in person.

On a whim, Wakuren closed his eyes for a moment of silent meditation and then placed his finger in his mouth.  Biting down hard, he felt one of his lower tusks pierce the skin and he tasted blood on his tongue.  Removing his finger from his mouth, he looked at it for a moment, watching the blood ooze slowly down the side of his finger.  Then, with a deep breath, he intoned the litany of a _cure minor wounds_ spell, touching the open cut with the pointer finger of his other hand.

He gave it a moment, then removed his finger from the self-inflicted wound.  The wound, as he'd hoped, had sealed up completely.  The Church of Cal might have abandoned him but he knew the All-Father had not and that thought, he realized, would see him forward on the path his life would take from this moment on.

- - -

"There's Alewyth!" Thurloe called out as he spotted a goat cart trundling down Temple Lane, the wide road upon which most of Port Duralia's existing churches, temples, and shrines had been built, and was the site of the half-constructed Pantheonic Temple that would give praise to all the known gods and goddesses in equal measure.  Alewyth studiously ignored the others until after she'd handed over the keystone of Aerik with which she'd been entrusted - then, her official duties finished, she deactivated her _ivory goat cart_ and headed over to meet up with Thurloe, Xandro, and Zander.  "Any sign of Wakuren?" she asked.

"Not yet," Zander replied.  "But then, he vanished from the dream before we made our meeting arrangements.  I figure we should probably head on over to the Temple of Cal - he's probably there now."

But when they stopped at the Temple of Cal and made inquiries, they were brusquely told that there was no cleric or aspirant at the temple named Wakuren, nor were there any half-orcs there.

"But he used to live here, right?" pressed Thurloe.  With a look of irritation, the cleric of Cal admitted that yes, there was a half-orc aspirant named Wakuren who used to study here at the temple.  "But he is no longer officially associated with the Church of Cal."

"Any idea where he might be?" Thurloe pressed.

"I really have no idea," replied the cleric sternly.  "Now if you will excuse me, I must be about my duties."  And he closed the door in their faces.

"Friendly sort," snorted Alewyth.

"Now what?" asked Zander.  "How are we going to find him in a city this size?"

"We can always wait until we're all asleep," offered Alewyth.  "We're sure to meet up with him in our dreams - those moogle things will probably gather us all together again like they did last night."

"Nah, that'll take too long," countered Xandro.  "How many half-orc clerics of Cal can there be in one city?  Let's ask around - I know some places we can hit up for local gossip.  Somebody's got to have seen him recently."  And sure enough, within an hour the friendly bard had tracked down Wakuren to a park, feeding crusts of bread to the pigeons.

"Oh, hey, guys," said the half-orc, looking up at their approach.  "There you are."  He had a happy, contented look upon his face - it was a look he'd worked hard at mastering, the better to smooth off the rougher edges of his half-orcish countenance, but for once the feeling had come to him naturally.  He'd completed his training and was a cleric of the All-Father, induction ceremony or no induction ceremony.

"Yep, the team's all assembled," Thurloe agreed.  "Now, let's go find us all some decent lodging and see about starting that dream manipulation stuff!"

- - -

And that was the first adventure of our new campaign.  I knew I wanted to give each of the PCs an individual dream, only to have them meet up in the Dreamlands and then have a little solo adventure on the way to meeting up in person; it meant chunks of time when four of the five players were mere spectators, but it was an opportunity to do something different and it worked out just fine, considering it took us only a little over an hour and a half to run through this.

Harry allowed me to borrow his stuffed animal moogle, "Mog," as a prop for the initial dream sequences.  And as his dream was first, I had him wait in the hallway to be introduced (I told him we were going to try a bit of live-action role-playing), then instructed the other players, in the game room, to start laughing at him when he first appeared because he was unknowingly walking on stage naked in his dream.  Harry was actually okay with that part, especially after I had already assured him ahead of time he wasn't going to have to actually role-play singing on stage - I think that would have been a step too far.

I also got the "that part wasn't really a dream" trick past Logan, which had had me worried; we often kid about the shared "wavelength" between us and I was afraid he'd deduce my trick beforehand.  But his backstory for Wakuren was that he'd been abandoned at birth and raised in the temple of Cal, fully expecting to become a cleric when he came of age; he'd decided on Wakuren refusing to wield weapons to counter his fearsome appearance, so I wanted to play upon the fact that he was universally feared and shunned by making him a target of prejudice even among his own ranks.  (But I also didn't want to mess up his ability to play his PC as a full-fledged cleric/paladin.)  He took it better than I had anticipated, staying well within character despite getting screwed out of an initiation ceremony and official recognition from his own church.  (Although there won't be much they can say about the matter when the All-Father grants Wakuren his spells despite their best efforts to keep him out of their temple in an official capacity.)

I had Thurloe be given a spellbook by an absent wizardly mentor to explain how he's going to suddenly gain a level of wizard at second level when he won't have been doing any studying along those lines in the meantime; now that he's graduated from a fighter academy I figure he can be studying his "training spellbook" between adventures.  (I plan on the group being on the road, so a wizardly mentor accompanying them would be problematic to explain.)

Alewyth won't get to keep that _ivory goat cart_ - it's a "loaner" from her temple that will need to be returned if she'll be taking a leave of absence from her dwarven home city.  (Fortunately it can be sent home on its own.)

- - -

T-shirt worn: My Einstein shirt, with the smoke from his pipe becoming galaxies.  It seemed a good representation of the Dreamlands.


----------



## Richards (Aug 4, 2020)

*ADVENTURE 2: THE SINISTER SCRIPTORIUM*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 1​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 1​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 1​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 1​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 1​
Game Session Date: 25 July 2020

- - -

Sleep came easily to the five new friends and adventuring companions: the previous day had been eventful but they'd found comfortable quarters near those Thurloe had already booked for himself for the duration of his training with Donegal Garabedian.  So now they slept, and as they'd each expected, they met up again in the Dreamlands, having been guided by individual moogles who were there waiting for each of them.

"Hey, kupo!" was the greeting each received, before the moogles guided them through the Dreamlands to the throne room of the Queen of Dreams, where they all assembled together as a team.  The first thing they noticed was the Queen looked slightly different than she had the previous night: she still wore a gown seemingly fashioned of living butterflies, still carried a silver staff, and still sat upon the same Butterfly Throne, but her hair was blonde now and her face, while recognizably mostly the same as it had been before, was very slightly different: her nose a bit longer, her eyes a touch farther apart.

"Such is the nature of dreams," replied the Queen to their unspoken question.  "This is a completely different reality than the Waking World to which you are accustomed and it plays by different rules."

She smiled down at them from her throne.  "In the meantime, since last we met I have had my servants" - and here she indicated the kittenish moogles who hovered in place around the throne room, their little batlike wings flapping nearly soundlessly - "make inquiries into the dreams of the mortals near your present physical location, specifically seeking out anyone dreaming about the mineral _dreamstone_.  I believe they have found one dreamer near you who has recently encountered a source; if its dreams are accurate, then I believe there should be a collection of dreamstones inside an underground cavern complex in the mountains to the north of the city in which your bodies currently reside."

Rising from the Butterfly Throne and walking gracefully down the steps before it, she approached a wall of the throne room, which at her touch became a vertical map of the local area to the north of Port Duralia.  She indicated a spot on the map along the Shieldwall Mountains.

"Tomorrow, when you awaken, you should make preparations for an excursion into a cavern complex, located here," she said, a thin finger pointing to a location between two peaks.  She then opened her other hand, revealing a smooth stone, black with flecks of white and gold.  "This," she explained, "is dreamstone.  You should try to gather a dozen or so of these.  I have an idea as to how they might be used to aid those who have succumbed to the dreaming sickness."

The Queen of Dreams motioned for a moogle to approach.  “For now, though, *Mogo* here will begin your initial training.  Mogo, please instruct them as we discussed."

"Sure thing, Your Highness kupo!" agreed the moogle, leading the five dreamers out of the throne room.

Mogo took them down a narrow hall filled with paintings whose figures moved about, giving them the appearance of windows into other places.  "What will we be learning tonight?" asked Alewyth eagerly.  She wanted to learn everything she could about dream manipulation - it sounded fascinating.

"Tonight we start with the basics: how to fall asleep, kupo!"

"Seriously?" asked Xandro.  "We already _are_ asleep - that's how we're even here in the first place."

"Oh, sure, it's easy enough to fall asleep at bedtime, kupo," agreed Mogo.  "But the only time you can communicate with the Queen of Dreams or with any of us is when you're dreaming, kupo!  Don't you think there are times you might need to ask us questions in the middle of the day or something, kupo?"

"I suppose so," allowed Xandro.  Mogo proceeded to instruct them on a calming ritual that would assist them in preparing their minds to fall asleep, even at times when neither their bodies nor their minds yet required the rest of slumber.  "Unfortunately, you can't practice this lesson now, kupo!" replied Mogo after going through the paces of the ritual several times.  "But you should practice it every night when you go to bed - and then sporadically throughout different times of the day, too, kupo!"

"I suppose practice makes perfect," admitted Alewyth.  She was somewhat disappointed that the first lesson was on so mundane a topic, though - she was eager to get to the good stuff!

But the next morning they awoke, refreshed, and set about getting themselves prepared for a journey to the mountains.  "We'll want mounts," replied Thurloe.

"Xandro and I already took care of that," answered Zander.  "And Alewyth has her goat cart."

"Actually, I don't," interjected the dwarven cleric.  "The _ivory goat cart_ was loaned to me just to get the keystone delivered; I sent it back to my temple with a note that I was taking a leave of absence.  That was one of my options for after I delivered the stone."

"Well, then the three of us will need mounts," amended Thurloe.  "I know a dealer in the area who can give us a good price."

"I do not need a mount," offered up Wakuren.  "I can walk."

"Don't be silly - it's a long way to the mountains and a long way back.  Plus, with any luck, we'll have some treasure to load up on the trip back - besides the dreamstones, I mean."

Wakuren was silent for a moment, then, not having found a means by which to sidestep the argument, came right to the point: "I do not have any funds with which to purchase a mount.  I spent all I had saved on my armor and shield, in preparation for my...becoming a cleric."  He'd been about to say "for my initiation ceremony," but he'd been cheated out of that at the last moment.

"Tell you what: I'll buy one for you and you can pay me back later," offered Thurloe.  Wakuren tried to argue his way out of it, but the human fighter wasn't having any of it.  "If we need to get going somewhere quickly, for whatever reason, a horse'll go a lot faster than a tired half-orc in heavy armor."

"I'm getting a mule," offered up Alewyth.  Eventually, Wakuren agreed to allow Thurloe to purchase him a mule, once he learned that mules were less expensive than riding horses.  "You sure?" Thurloe asked again.  "I'm getting a horse."

"I will take a mule, with thanks - and I will pay you back when I can," agreed Wakuren, and that was that.

Thurloe, never big on sentimentality, ended up picking up a riding horse he simply named "*Horse*."  Alewyth named her mule "*Mica*" - a good, dwarven name if ever there was one.  Wakuren picked out his mule but dithered over a name, eventually deciding he was in no particular hurry and could wait until he found a name he really liked.  They purchased saddles for their mounts and saddlebags to go with them.

"Did you guys ever name your horses?" Alewyth asked Xandro and Zander.  The horses they'd taken from the thieves who'd tried to rob the bard on his way to Port Duralia were both black, each with a white star on their muzzles.

"I'm calling mine '*Eddy*,'" the elf responded.

"I'm naming mine '*White*,'" answered Xandro.

"What else will we need?" thought Thurloe aloud.  "Rope?  Pitons?  It's a cave network, right?"

"Some of you are probably going to want light sources," Alewyth pointed out.  She and Wakuren had darkvision and thus could make do without any sources of illumination but the two humans and the elf weren't going to get very far without some way of seeing while deep inside a cave network.

"Yeah, good point," agreed Thurloe.  "I got a sunrod, but just the one.  Okay, let's head this way.  I know a shortcut to a place where we can get what we need."

Thurloe's shortcut took them through back alleys, some of them narrow enough they needed to ride single file.  But it was in a wider section of alley that they saw a man stagger through a solid wall, blood spraying down his front.  He collapsed onto the street in the alleyway, his finger moving erratically as he desperately tried writing a message in his own blood.

Thurloe urged Horse forward at his best speed and leaped from the saddle once he'd approached the dying man.  The man's hand trembled one last time as a gurgle of air escaped from his very obviously slit throat, bubbles forming in the blood flowing out of the gash.  The fighter saw the exact moment life left the poor man's body.

He also looked down at the street where the man had died and saw his last, desperate message.  There, finger-painted in blood, was written the following:

​


> *S IN I30I2 N*





Thurloe put his hand up against the wall the man had staggered through and was surprised to feel it as solid as...as a solid wall, actually.  He'd heard of a spell that allowed you to walk straight through a wall; _passwall_, he was fairly certain it was called.  If that was the means by which the man had exited the one-story brick building, the spell was apparently no longer in effect.

Alewyth dropped down from Mica's saddle and approached the dead man in the alley, saddened to see there was nothing she could do to help him; the _cure light wounds_ spell she'd planned to cast was very obviously not going to do anything for a man clearly already dead.  She looked down at the man's message.  "Any idea what that means?" she asked Thurloe.

"Address, maybe," Thurloe hazarded.

The others approached and all but Zander dismounted from their own animals.  Xandro looked the message over and said, "I'm fairly familiar with this city - I don't think that's an address."

"South in 13012 north?" Zander tried.  "That last part isn't an address?"

"I don't think so, no."  The bard bent down and lifted the dead man's hand, examining his ring.  "Look at this, though: it's a signet ring.  That's the crest of the Theringold family; they're minor nobility."

"Not too well off, either," added Alewyth, "judging by the threadbare state of his clothes."  Sure enough, the man's outfit was of top quality but it had seen much use; most noblemen wouldn't be seen in a set of clothes that had seen that much apparent prior wear.

Wakuren examined the wall closer, seeking a secret door or something.  "There has to be a way in," he guessed.  "We all saw him pass right through this wall."

"_Passwall_ spell," suggested Thurloe.

"Then maybe this is the password," reasoned the half-orc, looking down at the message in blood.  "S in one-three-zero-one-two N," he said, feeling the continued solidity of the wall.  "S in thirteen thousand and twelve, N," he tried, to no avail.  Converting the "S" and "N" to "south" and "north" didn't get him anywhere, either.

From the other side of the wall, two robed figures watched the five people near the corpse of the man they'd just slain, one of them - a half-orc wearing the holy symbol of the All-Father around his neck - methodically tapping at the wall.  From the inside of the building the wall was transparent, giving the half-orc the appearance of a mime playing "trapped inside an invisible box" tricks.  The fact they couldn't hear anything being said outside only enhanced the illusion.

"You think they'll find their way in?" one robed figure asked.

"Doubt it," answered the other.  "But I'll go bring up the watchbeast, just in case."  He went to go do just that.

"Let's go check the front of the building out," suggested Thurloe.  "Maybe whoever owns this place knows how the secret door works."  He tied Horse's reins to the dead man's ankle, earning him a glare from Alewyth.  "I'll stay here with the mounts," she offered, untying the reins and moving them over to a drain spout.  "No respect for the dead," she muttered as the human fighter wandered off around to the front of the building.  The other three men followed, Zander the only one remaining on horseback, leaving the dwarven priestess with four steeds and the body of the dead man.  He was a human, so that would probably put him at...late twenties, thought Alewyth, mentally translating his appearance into human years.  That meant he'd been only a young adult when he'd been killed.

Rounding to the front, Thurloe saw the entire building was one shop: "Sandoval's Scriptorium," according to the sign painted on the front door.  Thurloe noted the high, narrow windows above the door and along the front wall that let light into the interior.  He and Wakuren entered the building, leaving Xandro and the mounted Zander outside to stand guard.

"Good morning," the young fighter said to the bearded man behind the counter in what was apparently the front of the shop, the only area accessible to customers; there were two doors leading further into the building but they were both behind the wooden counter that stretched across the width of the room.

"Can I help you?" asked the man.

"Are you *Sandoval*?"

"I am."

"Well, Sandoval, you seem to have a dead man in your back alley."

Sandoval just looked at Thurloe with a bored expression on his face.  Once he pegged that the fighter was waiting for a response, he said, "...So?"

"So, don't you want to do anything about it?  He looked to have had his throat cut, ear to ear."  Thurloe indicated the location of the man's cut with his own finger.

"Nothing to do with me," Sandoval replied.  "I run a respectable business.  So, are you here for anything?  Arcane scrolls, maybe?  We offer competitive prices."

"No, we're more interested in your dead guy."

"He's not my dead guy.  Take it up with the city guard; they'll deal with cleaning up the alley of any dead bodies hanging around.  Now then, you here to buy something, or are you just wasting my time?"

"Somebody's wasting somebody's time, all right," Wakuren said, jumping up onto the counter and swinging his legs around.  He landed beside Sandoval and headed for the door to the east.

"Hey, you can't be back here!" complained Sandoval.  At the half-orc's ankle, a hissing sound announced the presence of Sandoval's weasel familiar, *Sleek*.  Wakuren ignored both of them, kicking in the door.  The room beyond, however, was merely a storage area, with a writing desk and chair along one wall and a bookshelf containing all manners of scrolls and parchments, many of them rolled into leather tubes and stacked in neat rows.  Vials of ink and quill pens were stacked neatly on the desktop, beside piles of clean parchment.

Pushing himself past Sandoval, the burly half-orc approached the door at the other end of the counter; this one faced south and would lead further into the building.  Opening it, Wakuren found a short hallway with another door right beside this one, along the north wall.  He opened this door as well, exposing a bedroom likely belonging to the scribe.  The only other door in the room was in the northwest corner, and the area behind it was small enough it likely led to either a closet or a privy.  Growling softly to himself, Wakuren realized he'd just seen the entirety of the front of the building and found no way to get farther back into it, closer to the wall abutting the alleyway.

As the half-orc turned to retrace his steps, he missed the homunculus crawling out from beneath Sandoval's bed.  The thing leaped into the air and let its wings carry it across the room, striking out to bite at Wakuren.  Fortunately, the cleric of Cal heard the drone of the wings at the last moment and spun about, the homunculus's sharp teeth just missing snapping down on the half-orc's cheek.

"Out of the way, old man!" snarled Thurloe, as Sandoval tried blocking his access to the door Wakuren had just gone through.  He lifted the flap of the counter allowing one to move from the customer area to the back as he pulled the bastard sword from its scabbard on his back; then, when the scribe tried grabbing the fighter's hands he brought the blade down upon him.  Thurloe had no qualms about attacking this man in his own shop, for he was already convinced Sandoval was complicit in the murder of the Theringold nobleman in the back alley.

Shoving the now-bleeding scribe to fall on the floor beside his familiar, Thurloe pushed his way through the door and found Wakuren in combat with some little bat-winged thing that was flying in his face and trying to bite him with needle-sharp teeth.  It was a tight squeeze, as the narrow corridor was short and the half-orc stood in the doorway of the bedroom to the north, but Thurloe tried stabbing at the homunculus with the tip of his sword's blade over the half-orc's shoulder.

In the meantime, the robed figures - back together again now that the one who'd gone downstairs had returned with the watchbeast - saw Alewyth's back was turned as she said some last rites over the foolish human who had tried mounting a rescue attempt and ended up with his throat slit for his efforts.  This was too good of an opportunity to miss, for the dwarven cleric was alone in the alleyway save for four mounts and a corpse.  With short swords drawn, they said the command word that activated the _passwall_ effect and stabbed through the wall at the dwarven woman.  Literally stabbed in the back twice at once, Alewyth collapsed into unconsciousness and began bleeding out.

Zander's keen elven ears had picked up Alewyth's startled cry from the other side of the building; kicking speed into Eddy, he rode the horse around the side of the building, Xandro running behind in his wake.  The elf turned the corner just in time to see Alewyth's body being dragged inside the building through what had been a solid wall.  "What in the--?" he cried as he leaped from Eddy's saddle and rushed over to the wall, but it was still perfectly solid from this side.  He slapped the bricks in frustration.  Inside the building, the robed figures let Alewyth's bleeding body fall to the floor and readied their weapons to attack the elf if he should be able to pierce their magic wall.

Wakuren brought his shield crashing down upon the homunculus, but it flapped over to the side, flew up, and bit the half-orc on the side of the face.  The bite burned with a stinging sensation Wakuren figured was probably poison, but whatever effect had been intended the half-orc's rugged constitution prevent any further debilitation on his part.  But the attacks had forced Wakuren to step further into the bedroom, giving Thurloe enough space to enter the room himself.  With the extra room to swing his blade, he brought his bastard sword down upon the flying homunculus, practically cutting it into two.

"You okay?" he asked the cleric.

"I'll be fine," replied Wakuren.  "There's got to be a secret door or something leading to the back end of the building - help me find it."  He began slamming his fist against the southern wall, trying to hear if there were any hollow spots or anything that sounded different that might indicate a hidden passageway.  Thurloe started doing likewise.

"Where's that elf?" he asked.  "He's better suited to this sort of thing."

But Zander Quilson was in the back alley, frustrated at his inability to get through the solid wall through which Alewyth had been dragged.  He looked back to the finger-drawn message in blood at his feet, beside the corpse of the man who had written it.  "This has _got_ to be the way in!" he reasoned.

Xandro examined it as well.  "The guy was dying," he said.  "It's very possible he didn't have the coordination he would have had otherwise.  What if we ignore the spacing between the letters and numbers?  Maybe it's all supposed to be one word."

"A word with numbers?" argued Zander, but then applying Xandro's reasoning, if the spacing between the "1" and "3" were ignored, and likewise with the "1" and "2," and if that zero was actually an "o"....

"Sinborn!" cried Zander, slapping his hand against the wall.  It passed right through.

"Uh oh," said one of the robed figures inside the room beyond.  "Incoming!"

As Zander stepped through the wall he was immediately attacked by two robed figures wielding short swords.  The sorcerer instinctively dodged one of the blows and the other only grazed him along one arm.  But then Xandro had leaped through the wall beside him, his rapier in hand and flashing out at the one who had managed to cut Zander's arm.  Alewyth was unconscious on the floor beside the two men in robes, but there was some sort of large, predatory cat sniffing at her as if checking out its newest meal - not good!

The robed figures struck out as one, each choosing a target and sticking with him.  Xandro managed to put up a good fight with his rapier; Zander, armed only with a dagger, was at a disadvantage in a blade-fight due to the smaller reach of his weapon.  But he had no intention of meeting his foe in melee combat, not when he had the power of spellcraft behind him!  Stepping backwards, down a narrow hallway ending in a closed door to the east, he put enough distance between himself and his assailant to cast a _magic missile_ spell that struck his foe right in the face.

And what a face!  As the creature involuntarily flinched his head backwards from the magical attack, the hood of his robe flapped back and Zander saw the face of the man he'd been fighting.  From the nose down, his skin was green and he sported rather orcish features, whereas the left side of his face was covered with an orange-reddish skin and the right side seemed almost armor-plated.  Worse yet, his right eye grew at the end of a short stalk, like one you might find on a snail or a slug - or, Zander belatedly realized, a crab, which would explain the carapace around that eyestalk.  What kind of mishmash creatures were they fighting?

Xandro had gotten a glimpse of his own hooded foe's physical abnormalities, for the man's right arm was much shorter than his left and the left side of his head bulged out disturbingly, as if someone had tried making one head out of the halves of an ogre and a satyr; Xandro noted the small horn growing out of the right side of his enemy's temple.  But despite the oddities of his form, the creature had apparently adapted to the reality of his misshapen body, for he wielded his short sword with the adeptness of a professional.  It was all Xandro could do keep the malformed rogue's short sword at bay with his own rapier.

Not having found any hidden passageways in the bedroom, Thurloe had moved back into the short hallway and discovered the western wall likely held a secret door - he just couldn't find the triggering mechanism.  So, deciding to make his own doorway, he brought his bastard sword crashing down into the wall, cutting a deep slice into the camouflaged wooden door.  Hearing the noise caused by such activities, the mongrelman who'd been fighting Xandro backed off to go deal with this new threat, calling for their trained krenshar to attack the rapier-wielding human with the lute strapped to his back.

The krenshar growled, hunched as if getting ready to pounce at Xandro, and then - quite disturbingly - the skin around its face flipped up, revealing a feline skull covered in bands of sinewy muscle.  The bard didn't feel fear so much as disgust, but the distraction was enough to allow the krenshar to get a grip on the bard's left leg with its powerful jaws.  Xandro stabbed down at the beast's neck with the tip of his rapier, causing the hyena-sized creature to roar in pain and release his leg.

Zander sped past his foe and touched Alewyth's unmoving form, concerned she might be slipping closer to death with every passing second.  He activated his own unique spell-like ability, channeling a small burst of positive energy into the unconscious priestess, enough to close up her wounds and prevent any further bleeding.

Wakuren took over the door-making procedure, smashing his metal shield into the hole Thurloe had started with his bastard sword.  Then, kicking away fragments of the hidden door, he had enough of a hole to step through.  But there was a strange, hooded man waiting there for him, stabbing out with his short sword.  Wakuren managed to deflect the thrust with his shield, then stepped fully into the room, Thurloe entering behind him.

The mongrelmen each attacked their intended foes again; Wakuren deflected the blow successfully but Zander wasn't as lucky.  Still, he was better off than the mongrelman attacking Wakuren, for Thurloe's bastard sword - held in a two-handed grip that allowed the fighter to put the full force of his not-inconsiderable strength behind it - cut him down.

The krenshar cringed, growled, and then sprung again at Xandro, toppling him backwards and causing him to hit his head on the floor as he fell; unconsciousness swept over him almost instantly.  The skull-faced beast started chewing on the bard's leg, seeing no reason to wait for his prey to actually die before making him its next meal.

Zander knew he'd be following Xandro into unconsciousness if he let his mongrelman foe continue to attack him.  So, since the door behind him was locked, he saw the transparent wall he'd walked through to get into the building and, not sure if the command word was still in effect, called out "Sinborn!" and dashed back through the wall and into the alleyway with the horses and mules.  He allowed the words to another casting of the _magic missile_ spell come to the forefront of his mind, ready to send flying into the mongrelman rogue if he dared to follow the sorcerer back outside.

Wakuren dashed over to the fallen Alewyth and the unconscious Xandro and determined the bard was currently worse off - a rather easy determination, considering the krenshar was chomping on his leg like a chew toy.  The half-orc cleric cast a _cure light wounds_ spell on the downed bard, slapping at the krenshar with his shield in an attempt to drive him off.  The krenshar growled its anger at having been separated from his meal, but then he was slain by an overhand blow from Thurloe's bastard sword.  Xandro sat up, rubbing his sore leg but finding he was able to stand upon it.  "Thanks," he said to the half-orc cleric of Cal.

The remaining mongrelman ran outside through the wall in pursuit of Zander and the _magic missile_ spell hit him unerringly in the chest as soon as he entered the alleyway.  He stabbed at the sorcerer with his blade, hoping to cut him down, but the nimble elf backed up and kept his distance.  He blasted the rogue with another _magic missile_ and that was enough to send him crashing lifelessly to the alley ground, not far from the nobleman the mongrelman had slain just minutes earlier.

Wakuren knelt and healed Alewyth, bringing her back to consciousness with another casting of the _cure light wounds_ spell.  Looking around and seeing no further combatants needing to be dealt with, Thurloe announced his intentions to go see to Sandoval and backtracked his way through the hole he and Wakuren had carved through the hallway wall.  Sandoval was in a lot of pain but he was still conscious, his weasel familiar doing his best to lick his master back to good health (or perhaps he just enjoyed the taste of his master's blood).  But the scribe cringed upon Thurloe's return, thinking the fighter was there to finish him off.  "I've got powerful connections!" Sandoval cried out, thinking to prevent Thurloe from slaying him if he thought the guild of thieves with which he was associated would avenge him.  But Thurloe wasn't in a murdering mood; instead, he bound the scribe tightly with rope from his backpack.

"Now, I'm going to ask you again about the dead guy in the alley," began the fighter.

"Screw the dead guy in the alley!" spat Sandoval.  "I didn't have anything to do with anything like that!  I'm a scribe - I create scrolls, documents, okay, maybe the occasional forgeries if the price is right!  But that's it!"

"There were two...mishmash monster guys and a skull-faced hyena-thing in the back of your building who likely killed the guy in the alley.  You have to be aware of who they are."

"Hey, if the guild says let some of their members bunk in the back, who am I to argue?  I just run the scribe shop - that's it!  Now let me go and get out of here, if you know what's good for you!  Or I'll have the thieves guild on you so fast it'll make your head spin!"

Thurloe was getting tired of the same old protestations of innocence from a man who was obviously involved up to his eyeballs.  Before either of the good-hearted clerics interfered with his own sense of justice, Thurloe ran Sandoval through with his blade; it turned out he was in a murdering mood after all.

A quick examination of the ground level of the scriptorium building revealed a dining hall and a set of stairs leading down to a basement level.  But there was also the locked door Zander had found.  Unable to open it via normal methods - Sandoval didn't carry a key to the door on his person, nor could Thurloe find one behind the front counter - Alewyth took matters into her own hands by smashing through the wooden door with her warhammer.  A shriek of surprise accompanied her initial swings, but by the time she'd smashed all the way through and into the room, the startled screams had died down.  Entering the room, the group found a line of cells along the eastern wall.  They were all empty save for the northernmost one, which held a young woman in her late twenties.

"Who are you?" asked Alewyth, surprised to find a human woman in a cage inside this scriptorium manned by weird mongrelmen.

"My name is *Teresa Theringold*," replied the young woman.  "Did my brother *Bertram* send you?" she asked, hope in her eyes.

"Uhhh," began Alewyth, then realized there was no good way to deliver the information.  "I'm afraid he's dead, outside, in the alleyway.  But he had apparently tracked you down and was attempting to rescue you from here.  Why were you taken, may I ask?"

Teresa broke down into tears at the announcement of the death of her brother.  "R-ransom," she finally replied.  "They said if my family didn't pay them 15,000 pieces of gold by the end of the week, I'd be sold into slavery."  She took a moment to try to recover her composure.  "I'm afraid we no longer have that kind of money...my father has squandered most of it away, gambling."

"Well, don't you worry - we'll have you out of there in a jiffy," promised Alewyth, striking the cell door with her warhammer.  But the metal bars of the cell were much sturdier than the wooden door she'd smashed through to gain entrance into the room and she soon realized she wasn't going to be able to break the door to the cell down.

"I'm afraid we'll have to come back for you, after we find the key to your cell," Alewyth amended her promise.  "But we won't leave without you, this I swear."

Wakuren asked Teresa who had taken her hostage and who had been tending to her since - bringing her food and water, for example.  "Monsters," Teresa replied with a shudder.  "Stitched-together abominations from some mad wizard's lab."  That would be the mongrelmen, Wakuren reasoned.  And it explained the password controlling the back wall, as "sinborn" was a slang term for the patchwork creatures, many people believing anyone born as a mongrelfolk was being punished for sins committed in a prior life.

The group promised Teresa they'd be back and headed over to the stairs, which were lined up along the western wall of the building.  Alewyth cast a _protection from evil_ spell upon herself, sure that anyone they'd meet would likely be of an evil bent.  Seeing not even the faintest illumination coming from the lower level, Zander cast a _dancing lights_ spell that sent several marble-sized balls of illumination dancing around the top of his head.  And then they went down the stairs.

About halfway down, Thurloe activated his sunrod and threw it down the stairs, to have it skitter along the floor and roll forward down a hallway.  As he approached the lower level he picked up the distinct scent of cat urine; no doubt the krenshar normally spent most of its time down here.  He also held up his hand, signaling the others behind him to stop, and strained to focus on what he thought he'd heard: the labored breathing of someone hiding in one of the rooms nearby.  Moving forward again as quietly as he could go, Thurloe reached the floor and stepped into an open room with several open doorways.  The smell of cat-piss was strong here and the scattered bones of previous victims - humans and elves, by the looks of them - indicated they'd found the krenshar's lair.

But that wasn't all of note.  The room at the bottom of the stairs was at the northwestern corner of the basement level, with the doorways opening into some sort of maze network or something.  The walls of the maze were ten feet tall and made of stone, but there was a wooden set of rafters at the 15-foot mark, and the ceiling stood a good five feet above them, a full 20 feet above the floor.  A triangular platform of wood sat directly overhead, sitting in the corner of the rafter network.

Cautiously, Thurloe entered the maze, heading south to follow the path of the sunrod he'd tossed in that direction.  This was also the direction of the heavy breathing sound, and as the fighter approached a side passageway in the maze the source of the wheezing made itself visible: a bearded mongrelman with patches of green scales on the side of its face and a crab claw in the place of its left hand.  Almost without conscious thought, Thurloe swung his bastard sword at the abomination as it in turn snapped out with its claw; the fighter dodged the pincer but the mongrelman fell to the ground, dead.  One down, thought Thurloe, wondering how many more of these "sinborn" were down here in this maze.

Alewyth stepped into the krenshar's lair and headed east.  Zander followed in Thurloe's direction and cast a _detect magic_ spell, wondering if there were any magic weapons being used against them; if so, he might get a bit of a heads up from the casting of the spell.  Turning slowly to face different parts of the basement level, he got a magical "ping" from the wooden triangle in the northeastern corner; there was something magical stored up there!

Xandro was the next to enter the krenshar's lair and he pulled the lute from his back and began singing a ballad about a brave band of heroes facing their enemies, thinking his friends could probably use a boost to their own courage in this dark labyrinth.  He wove magic into the words of his song, inspiring courage into the minds of the fledgling heroes exploring this dark lair.

Wakuren brought up the rear and he also headed east, but by a different path than that chosen by Alewyth.  He soon ran into another mongrelfolk, this one sporting facial features reminiscent of both gnolls and lizardfolk.  He bashed it with his metal shield, dropping the sinborn to its knees, then using the side of the shield to crush its windpipe.  It fell dead to the floor.

But now the remaining mongrelfolk exploded into action, attacking the heroes from all directions.  Another crab-clawed sinborn snapped at Thurloe with its pincer, but this was just a distraction allowing him to strike the fighter with a wooden club the creature held in a hairy fist.  A stumpy sinborn with one normal-sized eye and the other three times the size of its neighbor slammed a wooden club over Wakuren's head from behind and the half-orc fell forward into unconsciousness, his metal shield striking the ground with a clatter.

However, there were more than mongrelfolk down here in this labyrinth; the four triangular corners of the rafters each held the nest of a kenku: a humanoid crow covered in black feathers and with talonlike claws on both hands and feet.  One kenku - the one from the northeastern nest - rose from its bed and crept cautiously across the wooden rafters, dipping an arrow into the glass vial of centipede venom it wore on its belt and nocking it into its shortbow as it did so.  It saw Alewyth creeping forward, oblivious to the kenku's position, and fired down at the dwarf.  The arrow struck true, piercing the cleric's shoulder and sending a burning sensation through the wound.  But dwarves are a hearty race and Alewyth was able to shrug off the effects of the venom.

The other kenku awoke from the sounds of battle and grabbed up its own shortbow from its nest in the southeastern corner.  The black-feathered rogue bounded across the rafters in a low crouch, gaining the central area of the labyrinth from where it could see Xandro playing his lute.  The kenku fired, hitting the bard a glancing blow that was fortunately not deep enough for the centipede venom to enter Xandro's bloodstream.

Thurloe slew the crab-clawed mongrelfolk who'd hit him with the club and rounded a corner of the maze; fortunately, with Zander's _dancing lights_ floating above his head there was enough illumination to reveal the kenku up on the rafters and the fighter called out a warning to beware of archers from above.  Alewyth moved forward to try to revive Wakuren, realizing the two of them were the group's primary source of healing and as such it was up to her to bring him back to consciousness.  However, she not only had to contend with the kenku firing from the rafters above her but also a hulking mongrelman whose torso, right arm, and lower face seemed to be composed of primarily ogrish traits.  It limped forward on mismatched legs, one of them sporting the scales and clawed toes of a lizardfolk, and swung its wooden club at the dwarf.  She dodged the blow and maneuvered herself such that the burly sinborn stood in the way of the kenku's bow-shots, hoping he'd move off - for she needed to slay this mongrelman to get to Wakuren but as soon as her "mongrelman shield" dropped she'd be in the sights of the kenku's arrows again.

Zander moved up to give Alewyth what assistance he could, but he was almost out of his more powerful spells and had pulled out his dagger, fearing he'd have to engage in hand-to-hand combat, his least-preferred method of fighting.  As he traveled east along the northernmost passage, his elven senses picked up the fact there was a hidden door along the left wall - no, make that two of them, spaced fairly closely together.  He also got a magical "ping" from the kenku nest in the northeastern corner; apparently these kenku liked to keep magic items stored away!  Having to ignore the secret doors for now - it sounded like Alewyth needed any help she could get, and quickly! - Zander vowed to remember to scramble up to the 15-foot-high perches to check out what all treasure the kenku had stashed about once this combat was done.

Xandro had to stop playing his lute and give more attention to his rapier, for another crab-clawed mongrelman stepped out to attack him.  He handily dispatched him and opted to swing the lute back over his shoulder by its strap for now, content that the magical effect it had provided his friends would linger for a bit once the music itself had stopped.  Then he darted forward into the maze, seeking out enemies - and making sure to check the rafters above him for the darting kenku.  Fortunately, despite the fact there was a nest in each corner only two kenku seemed to be about; it was possible the other two were off on some mission for the thieves guild with which these animal-men seemed to be associated.

Straddling the unconscious Wakuren, the ogrish mongrelman attacked Alewyth again.  And now, from a side-passage of the twisting maze, another sinborn stepped forward, this one feature a large, multifaceted insect eye growing out of the right side of his face.  Fortunately, the clomp of his right foot - which was hoofed, like that of a satyr or minotaur - provided the priestess enough warning to avoid the swing of his club.  But now she faced mongrelfolk on two sides and she still couldn't reach the downed half-orc cleric.

Fortunately, the kenku above her still couldn't get in a good shot, so he scampered over the haphazard rafters, looking for a better angle from which to assault these interlopers below.  He got in a good shot against Thurloe, firing his arrow into the fighter's upper chest.  Thurloe grunted in pain but remained on his feet, although he was now seriously thinking this might just be a fight they couldn't win at present.  This view was only reinforced when the other kenku hopped along the rafters and got in a good shot at Alewyth, hitting her in the upper arm from above and to the side.

Zander shot his final _magic missile_ of the day at the bug-eyed mongrelman, distracting it from Alewyth; this allowed Xandro to come up from behind it and run it through with his rapier, the point sticking out of the thing's chest before the bard pulled it back out and the sinborn fell lifelessly to the floor of the maze.  But the ogrish one kept up his attacks on the priestess of Aerik and the kenku above fired down another arrow into her back; she was now on her last legs and knew it, realizing also that if she were to fall in battle it would likely mean not only her life but possibly Wakuren's as well.

The other kenku, from his higher perch, fired another arrow at Thurloe, hitting him in the top of his shoulder.  That was it for the fighter; with a bellowed cry of "Retreat!" he followed his own advice, backing to the stairs leading to the upper level of the scriptorium and taking a moment to pluck the arrows from his body, crying out on pain as he pulled out the one piercing his chest.  But several steps up the stairs he was out of bow-shot range from the kenku archer; the angle was all wrong for the rafter-bound kenku to be firing up a slope.

However, Thurloe grimaced when Xandro called back, from deeper inside the maze, "Wakuren's down!"  Crap, that meant retreat wasn't really an option, then.  Steeling himself, he grabbed up his bastard sword and readied to run back into battle.

Fortunately, Alewyth managed to take out the ogre-blooded mongrelfolk with a desperate strike of her warhammer, which allowed her to scramble forward and cast a much-needed _cure light wounds_ spell on Wakuren, bringing the half-orc cleric to flickering consciousness.  Zander kept the nearest kenku engaged by casting a _ray of frost_ spell up at it, covering the priestess's ministrations.  Xandro also found the point of his rapier could reach up at the kenku's feet and he stabbed at it, causing the bird-man to leap and scramble away.

The other kenku, having lost Thurloe as his target, was leaping from rafter to rafter across the maze to line up another shot.  It wasn't yet in position, but it was gaining fast on those in the maze below.  But then, with a war-scream at his lips, Thurloe raced back into the maze and leaped into the air, bringing his bastard sword swinging wildly at the first kenku at the top of his jump.  The blade cut the legs out from the startled avian and he fell backwards off the rafters to land, lifelessly, in an empty passageway on the other side of a maze wall from the fighter.

There was now only the sole remaining kenku facing the five heroes, but he still had the advantage of height and a ranged weapon with which he could shoot down at them, whereas the five on the ground were better geared toward hand-to-hand combat than ranged attacks.  The kenku was also in a better position maneuverability-wise, for he could race across the rafters in pretty much any direction he wanted, whereas the ground-based heroes were forced to meander around the twisting passageways of the maze.

Zander, dagger in hand, started following Thurloe's earlier advice and began heading for the stairway.  Xandro saw the kenku approaching and stabbed up with his rapier, causing the archer to squawk in frustration and dart off in a slightly different direction before stopping, taking aim, and firing an arrow down at the troublesome bard.  Wakuren, back on his feet, took a moment to cast a healing spell upon Alewyth in return and then stalked through the maze, heading towards the kenku on the rafters above.  It was difficult for the kenku, even with his higher elevation, to keep track of all five of his enemies below, and eventually he strayed too close to Thurloe, who repeated his earlier maneuver and cut the archer a deep gash in the leg with his bastard sword from below, causing him to fall from his perch onto the maze floor beneath the rafters.  The others hurried to get to him before he could scramble back up the wall and onto the rafters, but when they got to the kenku it was already dead, its neck in an unnatural position from when he had fallen.

"Well, good," Thurloe replied with a weary sigh before heading off to find one of the clerics for some much-needed healing.

Their enemies dead, the five heroes set about seeing if there was anything of value to be found among the corpses of those they'd slain and, more importantly, up in the kenku nests.  They boosted Zander up - he was the lightest of the group - and he tossed down the various treasures the kenku rogues had accumulated.  The magic items the sorcerer had detected were mostly utilitarian in nature - two healing potions, an _everburning torch_ wrapped in a blanket - but they also snagged a tanglefoot bag, some tindertwigs and a candle, a vial of antitoxin, a smattering of coinage, and most importantly, a bunch of keys on a metal ring.  These proved to be the keys to the cells in the room in which Teresa Theringold was being kept prisoner and she was grateful when the five returned to free her.

But before they did that, Zander wanted to check out what was behind the secret doors he'd sensed.  One led to a small room with a terrarium filled with several centipedes as long as the elf's arm, along with heavy gloves and metal tongs that were apparently used in venom extraction; this was where the kenku got the poison for their arrows, it seemed.  Another tunnel led to what appeared as a shrine of some sort, missing only the statue of the god to which it would normally have been consecrated; nevertheless, the assembled treasure of the mongrelfolk was apparently stored here, meager as it might be.  Then, further down the wall, Zander discovered yet another hidden passageway he hadn't noticed before; this one led to the sewers even lower down and likely served as a means for the misshapen sinborn to move about the city unseen.  But it served a different purpose this day, for at Thurloe's direction all of the kenku and mongrelfolk corpses got dragged to the sewer access hole and dropped down the shaft, to disappear into the rancid waters below.

Once freed, Teresa asked to be taken to the body of her brother immediately.  Taking her through the oddly transparent wall (transparent from the inside only, as became evident once outside in the alleyway), Teresa identified the body laying there as her brother Bertram.  "If you would help transport his body back to our estate, I will pay you what I can," Teresa offered.  The group lifted Bertram's body and placed it across the broad back of Mica the mule and Alewyth walked her mount beside Teresa, who led them to the Theringold estate.  There she insisted upon paying the group 500 pieces of gold for their assistance, Wakuren insisted that they needed no such payment, and Thurloe insisted that Wakuren was being a dumbass and of course they were happy to help but equally happy to be paid for their services.

And then the group mounted their horses and mules and returned the way they had originally been going, to stock up on the other supplies they'd need for their trek into the mountains, to try to find the dreamstones they'd been briefed about in the Dreamlands.

"You think of a name for your mule yet?" Xandro asked Wakuren.

"I'm thinking '*Perseverance*,'" Wakuren replied.

- - -

This was an opportunity for me to put the PCs in combat against some creatures who might reasonably be expected to be found inside a city, since I imagine the vast majority of the campaign will be spent on the move, as the PCs travel about the continent coming to the aid of those who have fallen victim to the dream-sickness.  But as they still need training on dream manipulation, I wanted to keep them in Port Duralia for a bit and this was a means to have an adventure take place entirely within its confines.  I'll be sending them on the road before too long, which will make it difficult to have many repeat visits by established NPCs.  Now at least they have earned the respect of a minor noble family; I may be able to do something with that in the future.

I figure Bertram Theringold had tracked down one of the two kenku who had kidnapped his sister and tortured the location and password out of him before killing him.  That explains how he tracked down his sister's whereabouts, made it through the _passwall_, and got himself killed - but at least had the presence of mind to try to write the password to the wall down before he died.

Incidentally, Harry absolutely _hated_ the fact that I had given Sandoval a weasel familiar and had the audacity to use the same mini he had used for his own half-orc sorcerer's familiar in our previous campaign.  Harry demanded we kill Sleek for the simple crime of not being Wezhley.

- - -

T-shirt worn: My Einstein shirt, as it was the same game session as the first adventure.


----------



## Richards (Aug 6, 2020)

*ADVENTURE 3: THE DREAMSTONE CAVERNS*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 1​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 1​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 1​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 1​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 1​
Game Session Date: 1 August 2020

- - -

Suddenly finding themselves with more money to spend, the group decided to forego their immediate departure to the mountains north of Port Duralia and further stock up on supplies.  With his share of the reward for rescuing Teresa Theringold, Zander purchased a sturdy wooden wagon and the tack needed to hitch up the two mules, Mica and Perseverance.  Of course, that meant Alewyth and Wakuren were suddenly without riding mounts.  "No problem," Zander replied.  "You guys get to ride in the wagon.  Better that the two clerics capable of keeping the rest of us hale and hearty get to ride around in style!"

If either if the clerics doubted that riding in a mule-drawn wagon was considered "riding around in style," they didn't mention it to the overeager elven sorcerer.

Thurloe thought it a good idea to pick up a few healing potions, just in case anybody needed immediate healing and had gotten separated from the clerics.  "I know a guy," he promised, but when he led them to the potion-maker's shop he found it closed and locked.  "Never mind," he said.  "He's probably out making the rounds on his cart.  C'mon, let's try some of his usual stops."

Finding the potion-maker was presaged with the laughter of children.  Riding into a cul-de-sac, the group spotted a little gnome sitting behind an odd contraption: the front half looked rather like a large desk on wheels, and the back half had a place for the gnome to sit above a large wheel and gears he pedaled with his feet to get the vehicle to move.  But the contraption was currently parked and the gnome was doing a brisk business selling penny candy to a cluster of eager children holding up their copper coins.

"You buy your potions from a candy man?" Alewyth asked, puzzled.

"Oh, yeah - Aenus is one of the best in the business.  He sells the normal stuff - potions, oils, salves, and the like - or you can get the same stuff in candy form or sometimes even chewing gum.  The chewy stuff kicks in right away, but some of the hard candies have a spell effect in them that lasts for as long as you keep sucking on the candy."

"The guy's name is 'Anus?'" Xandro asked, wanting to make sure he'd heard correctly.  But by that time they'd ridden into earshot of the gnome, and he turned to introduce himself.

"*Aenus Feysputter*, at your service," he said with a mock bow from the seat of his vehicle, lifting a flap on the top of his "desk" area and pulling out a piece of toffee, which he exchanged with a small child for his copper piece.  At the bard's confused expression, the gnome pointed to the side of his vehicle.  "Like it's spelled, not like it sounds," he grinned, for he was pretty sure the human had heard his name as "Anus Face-Butter."

Aenus took another child's order, took his penny and gave him his candy, and watched as the flock of children scampered away.  "Now then, what can I get for you?"

"Two _potions of cure light wounds_, for a start," Thurloe answered.

"Very well: liquid or toffee?" Aenus asked.

Thurloe thought it over.  "Potion vial," he replied, then added on a vial of _oil of bless weapon_ and a _potion of shield of faith_ as well, which pretty much took up the majority of his share of the earnings from their exploration of Sandoval's Scriptorium.  A few of the others purchased a potion or two from the gnome's cart, then he was off, pedaling his contraption to the next part of town where he often did his business.

"Odd guy," Zander remarked.  "Hey, is there anywhere around here I could pick up a couple of scrolls?"  Thurloe knew of a respectable arcane scroll scribe and led the group to his shop.  And then, all of their goods and provisions loaded into the wagon, they headed out of Port Duralia and north up the trade road for nearly seven hours.  They met several merchants headed both ways, for Port Duralia was a major trade hub on the western shores of Armaturia and the goods brought in by sea were sent via caravans along the trade routes to towns and villages all along the small continent.

At the sixth hour the group diverged off the main road, vectoring off to the left, headed to a gap between two mountains that made up this part of the Shieldwall Range ringing the continent.  Alewyth led the mules without hesitation, sure that this was the way they were to take, for she'd studied the map in the throne room of the Queen of Dreams very thoroughly.

A short hour later, the priestess of Aerik pulled the mule-drawn wagon to a stop at the foot of a mountain of stone.  There was a cave just ahead, the opening about seven feet wide and maybe five feet high, if that.  But with her darkvision Alewyth could see the cavern walls inside seemed to rise higher than the cave opening; likely the ceiling height would permit them to stand normally once inside the cave.

The three men on horseback drew their mounts to a halt, then leaped down from their saddles and tied their horses' reins to the spokes of the wagon wheels.  Alewyth and Wakuren stepped down from the wagon and everyone cautiously approached the cave, weapons drawn and ready.

"You're sure this is the right place?" asked Xandro.

"It looks like a cave opening, in the right place the Queen said it'd be," replied Alewyth.  "Pretty sure it's the right one, but if it isn't we can scout around a bit and see if there's another one nearby."

"Ladies first," offered Thurloe, waving the priestess ahead of him.  She scowled at him, thinking he was merely offering to allow her to be attacked first by anything that might be guarding this cave, but then she decided it made sense that one of the group's two clerics should be the first to enter the cave: they were the only two capable of seeing perfectly fine in absolute darkness and there was no light coming from inside the cave.  It was probably only about five hours or so past noon, but the mountains cast plenty of shadows and there was not a whole lot of light available with which to see inside dark cavern openings.

"All I see so far is a bunch of scattered bones," she whispered to those behind her as she approached the cave.

"Human?" asked Xandro.

"Nah, smaller: bunnies and squirrels, more likely."  By now, though, Alewyth could detect a distinct animal musk emanating from the cave - that, and the unmistakable coppery scent of blood.  She gripped her warhammer tighter and stepped fully inside, ducking her head as she did so to ensure she didn't bonk her metal helmet on the top of the cave opening.

There was a growl from the right; spinning in place, the dwarven priestess saw a pair of timber wolves in the back of the cave.  Both were growling now, the fur on their backs standing up, one of them approaching.  Then that one - the male, Alewyth surmised - pounced to the attack, trying to bite her leg and drag her to the stone floor where he could more easily rip out her exposed throat.

Xandro and Thurloe raced forward into the cave at the snarls and growls, followed by Wakuren, although it was a tight fit getting them all inside for the entryway was somewhat small.  From outside the cave, Zander saw the timber wolf try to bite Alewyth and, with a good line of sight on the beast due to his low-light vision, the elf cast a _magic missile_ spell, sending a dart of pure energy striking the wolf in the side of the head.

Wakuren decided he didn't necessarily want to kill the wolf; this was, after all, his own den and the half-orc assumed the other wolf was his mate and the adventurers were the ones trespassing into the wolves' den.  So rather than bring the side of his shield crashing down on the wolf's skull, he tried punching it with a gauntleted hand, hoping merely to knock the thing senseless rather than slay it outright.  The wolf let out an involuntary whimper at the half-orc's blow, sounding more like a dog than Wakuren was comfortable with.

Alewyth, however, was the one getting bit and she had no compunctions about fighting back with all of her might.  Her warhammer came crashing down upon the wolf's head, knocking it in a heap upon the stone floor of his own den.  Wakuren noted the wolf was still breathing and turned to look at the other one.  This was apparently a female, for her belly seemed swollen in pregnancy.  She belatedly leaped to the attack now that her mate was down, determined to fight for her unborn litter.  Her teeth bit at Alewyth, the nearest foe and the one who had struck her mate into unconsciousness.

Xandro stepped forward, rapier in hand, and thrust his blade into the wolf's flank.  Thurloe stepped up beside and mirrored the maneuver, but his bastard sword was a much heavier weapon and the blade slew the female instantly.  She collapsed to the floor in a pool of expanding blood, causing Wakuren to wince in empathetic pain.

The wolves taken care of, Zander walked around the perimeter of the cavern interior, looking for secret passageways.  "I hope this is the right place after all," he said.  "But I don't see any dreamstones lying around."

It was Alewyth, with her darkvision, who spotted the way forward.  "Up there," she said, pointing to the east side of the cave, but higher up the nearly vertical wall.  About 20 feet up, the stone wall looked to level off, with a ceiling some 15 feet or so higher than this upper ledge.  The dwarf could see stalactites hanging from this higher ceiling; the wolves' den didn't seem to have much in the way of stalactites.

After some discussion, the group came to their first decision: Thurloe would climb the stone wall with the _everburning torch_ providing him the illumination he needed on the way up; once there, he'd hammer a piton into place and lower a rope for the others to climb their way up.  Wakuren went to fetch the fighter's silk rope from the wagon, and while the half-orc was out of visual range Xandro stabbed the male wolf in the head with the point of his rapier, killing it.  "Just thinking ahead," he told Zander.  "We'll want to bring the mounts in here while we go looking for those dreamstones, and we can't have the wolf waking up and deciding to eat our horses."  Zander nodded in agreement.

Thurloe resheathed his bastard sword, looped the coils of rope over one shoulder, tucked the _everburning torch_ between his armor and the leather strap holding his bastard sword scabbard on his back, and looked about for the best hand- and footholds.  Then, plotting his course, he began climbing up.  He took his time; there was no hurry and no reason for a careless fall from a great height because he was going faster than he needed to.  It took him some time - during which his new friends worriedly watched his progress, Wakuren standing directly beneath him so he could try to catch him if he slipped - but the determined fighter made it to the top without incident and pulled himself over the edge.  Then, on the sloped rise, he pulled out a piton and attached one end of the silk rope to it.  He tossed the other end over the edge into the wolf den to get it out of his way, positioned the piton in a solid area where he could pound it in good and secure, and started hammering it into place.

The bats roosting among the stalactites up there above him did not like his hammering at all.

An entire swarm of bats dropped from their ceiling perches and flew about in a panicked frenzy.  Thurloe, very much aware he was balanced at the edge of a 20-foot drop, hunkered down low on the stone floor of the elevated area and started crawling away from the edge.  Down below, Alewyth heard the frenzied screeches of the bat swarm and cast a _sanctuary_ spell upon herself, ensuring she'd not be a victim to their mad rush to attack anybody and everybody in the area.  Thurloe made it to the side wall and crawled further east, while the bats flitted about above him in a blind panic.  Eventually, instinct if nothing else led them down to the wolf den, which was their normal exit into the outside air; it was earlier than they normally went out to hunt but the light wasn't bright enough to bother them; the dreamstone hunters wisely dropped to the cave floor and let the bats exit without incident.  Then, once they'd all trickled out in waves, Alewyth called up to the higher ledge, "Are you all right up there, Thurloe?"

"I'm fine!" he called back.  "You guys can start climbing up!"

They sent Zander up first as he was the lightest, while Wakuren and Xandro went to go fetch the horses.  They dragged the bodies of the wolves outside and far enough away from the cave entrance that carrion eaters hopefully wouldn't find their way back to the cave, then untied the horses' bridles from the wagon wheel and brought them inside the cave.  The mules were used to maneuver the wagon adjacent to the cave opening, then unhitched from the vehicle and brought inside as well.  Finally, Wakuren and Xandro tipped the wagon over, blocking the cave entrance, then scrambled over it to climb their way back inside.  It was crowded, but hopefully the steeds would be safe inside from any predator who might show up while the adventurers were inside the cave network.  With any luck, they'd pop inside, find the dreamstones, and be back before that became an issue.

One by one, the remaining three climbed up the rope after Zander and followed Thurloe east so he could show them what he'd discovered: the bat ledge connected the wolf den to a much larger cavern, with a natural vertical tunnel plunging down into darkness.  A series of natural stone steps wound around the interior of the shaft, looking very much like simple elevation changes worn about by water over the centuries but just a little too even to consider that some guiding intelligence hadn't influenced the design of the winding stairway.  "Could be there was mining done down here at some point," suggested Alewyth.

"There's no telling what all we might find down in these lower depths," warned Wakuren, looking over the edge of the vertical shaft and seeing it went straight down for almost 50 feet before flattening out at the bottom.  He could see a pile of bones on the floor in the center of the shaft; obviously, others had come this way before and not made it back out.  "I think it might be best if we readied our magical protection."  So saying, he cast a _shield of faith_ spell upon himself.  Thurloe drank down his potion with the same effect, then spent a moment rubbing his _oil of bless weapon_ onto the blade of his bastard sword.  Alewyth, in the meantime, cast a _bless_ spell upon the assembled group.  "May Aerik's watchful eye guide our attacks, that they be true," she intoned.

After checking around this upper cave for dreamstones and finding none, Wakuren led the expedition down the winding slope.  Aelwyth walked directly behind him, the only two with darkvision taking the lead.  Xandro came next, his lute on his back and his light crossbow in hand, armed with a quarrel and ready for action should it be needed.  Then came Thurloe, providing illumination with the _everburning torch_ for those who needed it, while Zander brought up the rear.  The steps made several full clockwise circuits around the central shaft before Wakuren got close enough to the thin strands to see what had been all but invisible from the top of the shaft: a spider's web, spanning the entirety of the vertical tunnel about 10 feet above the floor below.

"Spider web," he called back to the others, then looked at the single strand of webbing stretched across the twisting passageway, right where he'd been about to step.  The web's crafter, no doubt, used this to trip any prey who didn't otherwise fall into its web.  Not wanting anyone to trip over it, he stepped over the all-but-invisible trip-line and then bent down to break it in his hands.

But breaking the trip-line was, to the spider who had laid it there, the same as having potential prey trip over it as intended: it caused the whole web to quiver from the impact, alerting the arachnid there was prey at hand.  It scurried up from its hiding place, on the ceiling of a section of spiraling passageway the heroes had yet to traverse, and came scrabbling towards Wakuren.

Alewyth cast a _magic stone_ spell on the handful of sling stones she pulled from a pouch at her belt, dropping the first into her sling and whirling it about her head, ready to fire.  Xandro raised his light crossbow and tried to make out the black form of the spider against the deep shadows of the vertical shaft and the steps spiraling down its inner surface.  Thurloe resheathed his bastard sword, activated a sunrod and tossed it into the center of the web - a light source not in constant movement like his _everburning torch_ would help them all see the spider they were about to fight -  and readied his own shortbow, nocking an arrow and pulling back the bow, sighting along the arrow's length to line up his shot.

But the spider dashed up to Wakuren faster than the half-orc had expected a creature that size to be able to move; its torso was about as long as he was tall, with long, spindly legs adding to its overall bulk.  The half-orc's torso was crushed in the spider's mandibles and poison dribbled into the wounds pierced by its sharp mouth-parts.  Wakuren could feel the strength start to leave his limbs but vowed not to be slain by a giant spider, of all things.

With a series of arcane syllables, a _magic missile_ spell went streaking from Zander's finger to strike the spider's bloated abdomen.  Wakuren slammed the bottom point of his shield into the top of the spider's cephalothorax, right between some of the smaller eyes ranging above the central, forward-pointing pair.  Alewyth's magic sling stone went flying into the spider's side, just above the junction where its legs grew out of the underside of its abdomen, while a crossbow bolt shot into the spider's side at full force, burying itself up to the feathers on the end of the shaft.  Then Thurloe's arrow followed Xandro's crossbow bolt and the spider died from its many wounds, what passed for blood in its arachnid body leaking out of the many rents in its shiny, black exoskeleton.

"Are you okay?" Alewyth asked Wakuren as he extricated himself from the dead spider's mandibles.

"I will be," answered the half-orc, pulling out a scroll of _cure light wounds_ he'd purchased earlier in the day, back at Port Duralia.

"Do you want the vial of antivenom we found in the kenku nest?' she asked.

"No, thank you - we'll save that for some time when we really need it; that spider's venom didn't do that much damage to me."  And he was right: while he wasn't up to his full strength he was already feeling pretty much like his old self now that he'd healed himself from the scroll.

Continuing their spiraling journey down to the bottom of the cavern floor, the group examined the pile of bones and assorted junk that had been piled at the bottom of the vertical shaft.  There was a rusty sword and a backpack covered in mildew; even the bones were glistening with wetness.  That in itself was odd, for although Zander's elven hearing picked up the distant sounds of water dripping, it was from some distance away and the area here at the bottom of the spiraling slope was otherwise completely dry.  "I don't like those bones," he muttered to the others.

"What?  Why?" asked Thurloe.  "They're just bones.  Probably former victims of the spider."

"You just watch: they'll animate or something as soon as our backs are turned."

Wakuren raised his hands to his holy symbol, preparing to channel a wave of positive energy through it should the skeletons turn out to be undead, but after nothing seemed to happen he turned to the nervous elf.  "I think you're just being--" he began.

"It moved!" Zander called, pointing.

Wakuren turned his head and sure enough, there was some slight movement over in the pile of bones.  One human arm was rising up, setting its hand down as a support as if to pull itself upright.  Wakuren raised his holy symbol but then noticed something: the skeleton getting to its feet was completely covered in a thick, translucent slime.  He recalled having heard of these things in his training: while turning undead was a powerful weapon in any combat cleric's arsenal, there were some creatures who gave every indication of being undead but were not and one of these "false undead" was a translucent slime-beast that used skeletons as a means of getting around faster and approaching new prey.

Alewyth, however, had readied her sling to attack the skeleton and she let fly with her second _magic stone_, not particularly caring whether this thing was truly undead or not.  The stone hit true, splashing through the nearly-invisible goo coating the thing's skull and striking bone.  Xandro shot his crossbow at it and Thurloe fired off an arrow from his shortbow, both shafts hitting their marks as well.  Zander cast an _acid splash_ spell at the thing, not realizing the translucent goo was itself acidic in nature and the creature was immune.

By then, the goop ghoul had gotten its skeleton mount fully standing and it swiveled it in place, swinging a bony arm at Wakuren, who happened to be the closest.  The half-orc easily blocked the simple attack with his shield.  Then he used his shield as a weapon, bringing it crashing down upon the skeleton's skull, crushing the neck that supported it and smashing into the translucent slime granting the thing its mobility.  The slime lost its cohesiveness, causing the individual bones to scatter in a pile.

Making sure there were no other goop ghouls in among the other bones, Thurloe eventually declared it safe and stepped into the pile to root around for possible treasure; after all, a spider wouldn't have the sense to value the items left behind by its previous victims.  The others gave him a hand, unearthing a well-crafted dagger, a small coin pouch filled with several dozen copper pennies, and a gem looking to be much more valuable.  ("A dreamstone?" asked Xandro, but it was not.)  Then, seeing nothing else of value, Thurloe called for the group to move on.

There was a slight illumination coming from around the corner to the right of the cavern they were currently occupying.  Alewyth led the group around the corner, but Zander was squinting up the cavern wall just ahead.  He called Wakuren over.  "Is that a cave or something up there?" he asked, pointing.

Wakuren, with his darkvision, was able to confirm it was.  The opening was an area of darkness about 25 feet up the cavern wall, a wall about as steep as the one Thurloe had climbed to get them into the bat cave which had led them all here.  Wakuren brought the cave to Thurloe's attention as Alewyth and Xandro continued on around the corner.  But then, seeing the commotion going on behind them, they returned to the others.

"What's up?" asked Alewyth.

"There's a cave up there," Thurloe replied.  "I want to check it out."  Zander had another coil of rope from his own gear that he passed over to Thurloe and the fighter pulled out another piton and his hammer and shoved them into his belt.  Then, _everburning torch_ still in place with the strap to his bastard sword, he found his initial footholds and started his careful ascent.

Wakuren and Alewyth each decided they'd give climbing a try as well; they had darkvision and would have a much easier time seeing the rock face than either Xandro or Zander would.  But climbing - without a rope to guide them - proved to be much more difficult than it looked, and after each fell after ascending only a few feet they decided to let Thurloe handle it; he'd already proven he could climb nearly sheer vertical stone surfaces before, after all.

Alewyth, however, soon got bored watching Thurloe's slow and cautious ascent and decided to go check out the illumination; it was coming from the same direction as the occasional drippings sounds.  As she walked down the corridor, a beetle popped around the corner, exposing itself as the source of the illumination: glowing glands on its carapace and at the ends of its antenna were giving off a ghostly, white light.  The thing was smaller than the spider had been but was still as big as a decent-sized dog and it skittered towards the dwarf in hungry anticipation of an easy meal.

But its meal was not to be, for Zander cast a _magic missile_ spell at it and the thing was slain immediately.  "Wow, that thing's not very tough," he said.

As if summoned by the elf's disdain, two more fire beetles skittered around the corner, speeding down the corridor towards all but Thurloe, who by now was halfway up the slope.  Alewyth used her third and final _magic stone_, sending a pebble crashing into the lead fire beetle's head, right between its glowing antennae.  This wasn't enough to kill it, though, and it continued its hungry approach.  Xandro slew it moments thereafter with a well-placed shot from his light crossbow.

Zander cast another _acid splash_ spell, coating the head of the last beetle in corrosive fluid, but again it kept on coming.  This one actually made it to the line of adventurers, biting Alewyth on the leg with a set of strong mandibles.  But that just put it close enough to her for her to bring her warhammer smashing down upon the middle of its back, snapping its carapace and crushing its internal organs.  It oozed fluids as its legs twitched spasmodically in death.

Thurloe was almost to the top of the ledge immediately outside the cave opening when he heard a word being echoed inside the chambers beyond.  It sounded like, "Doom!" being repeated by numerous voices, as if this were some sort of battle chant.  But the voices increased in volume rapidly - more rapidly, in fact, than the fighter could pull himself fully up onto the ledge.  He had his arms straightened out and his waist level with the floor, about ready to try to swing up a leg, when the creatures rounded a corner and were upon him.

At first Thurloe thought these were more kenku, like the archers they'd fought in the basement beneath Sandoval's Scriptorium.  But while the kenku wore clothing to disguise their avian build, these creatures were completely naked.  Thurloe decided whatever they were they were probably still part of the kenku family tree, for their avian bodies were covered with oily, black feathers and their heads looked very much like those of ravens or crows, but these creatures had bulging chests and powerful arms - if they were kenku they were the primitive, savage part of the line - and they seemed incapable of saying anything other than, "Doom!  Doom!"

But it looked like there were at least three of them rushing him and Thurloe didn't want any part of trying to fight off barbarian kenku while balanced at the edge of a 25-foot drop, so he lowered himself back down, found the footing he'd just left, and started climbing back down again.  He started his descent just in time, for two sets of avian claws grabbed at his head; had he been a few seconds later he'd likely have been raked on both sides of his face.

Just as the fighter was congratulating himself on avoiding a whole lot of pain, a whole lot of pain came to visit him.  One of the dire corbies, intent upon not letting this human interloper invade its nest, leaped forward onto Thurloe, clawing at his back and shoulders.  Thurloe doubted he could hold both of their weight for long and realized he had but a split second to make a choice: drop from the wall and hope he could finagle a midair twist such that the kenku barbarian took the brunt of the landing, or cling to the wall and hope the bird-man fell off.

Almost without conscious thought, Thurloe instinctively went for the clinging-to-the-wall option.  That turned out not to be the optimal course of action, for he couldn't support the weight of the dire corby as well as his own and his fingers lost their purchase.  Both figures plummeted the 20 feet to the hard floor below, the dire corby turning it into some sort of acrobatic roll that ended up with him stumbling but at least still remaining on his clawed feet, while Thurloe just fell straight down and was knocked unconscious instantly from the impact.

Up at the cave opening, two more dire corbies fell to their feathered bellies and started climbing down the sheer rock face - but unlike Thurloe, they climbed down head first in the manner of lizards.  This was quite a disturbing sight for Xandro and Zander, who had never seen these dire corbies before and had expected them to act more like the kenku they resembled.  These things didn't even seem to have any weapons!

Alewyth and Wakuren, by this time, had wandered down the corridor in the direction the fire beetles had come from.  There was a sort of T-intersection up ahead; to the right was a clear pool, the source of the dripping sounds they'd heard (every few seconds another drop of water plummeted from the small stalactites overhead), while the left passageway opened up into a vast cavern covered in various stalks of mushrooms and other fungi.  A large rock sat in the middle of this fungal cavern, swirls of light and dark forming patterns along its surface; Wakuren wondered idly if this might be one massive chunk of dreamstone and if so, how they were ever going to get the thing back to Port Duralia, for it was wider than the half-orc was tall.

Xandro called to their clerics for help as he stabbed his rapier forward at the dire corby before him.  Zander cast an _acid splash_ spell at a fourth dire corby that had just appeared in the cave entrance and was flopping on its belly in preparation of beginning its headfirst climb down the cliff-side; the elf had hoped he might startle it into falling over the edge, but no such luck.  These things seemed much tougher than the kenku they'd fought earlier; the one Xandro stabbed merely cawed "Doom!" in his face and swiped at the bard with a set of sharp talons at the end of his hand.

The two dire corbies climbing down leaped to the ground and took up positions on either side of the one Xandro was facing off against, and now two more had taken their place climbing down the cliff wall.  With a look of despair, Zander saw a sixth creature appear at the top of the upper cave opening.  These things were not only tougher than the kenku, but they outnumbered the adventurers as well - and would have had Thurloe still been up and about to aid their side.

But at least Wakuren and Alewyth were running back to help.  By the time they caught back up, Xandro had managed to kill the first dire corby with another stab of his rapier, this time through the thing's heart - but still the others continued crying, "Doom, doom, DOOM!"  Zander bent low and grabbed the unconscious fighter by the strap of his bastard sword, dragging him farther back and out of the reach of the two other dire corbies already on the ground.  But these two had leaped forward to attack Alewyth and Xandro, slashing out with the talons on their hands, while behind them the next two leaped to the floor and advanced, one slashing out at Zander while he was preoccupied with his task.

Then Wakuren ran forward into a slide, slamming next to Thurloe's unmoving form and casting a _cure light wounds_ spell upon him.  The fighter shook his pounding head and looked about him, momentarily forgetting exactly where he was and what he'd been doing.  (The cries of "Doom!  Doom!" quickly refreshed his memories on that score.)  While Alewyth swung her warhammer into the one who'd attacked her and Xandro did likewise with his rapier, Thurloe whipped out his bastard sword and stabbed at the one who'd attacked Zander.  The elf, for his part, backed up even further away and cast an _acid splash_ spell at the one who'd clawed at him, wishing he had more powerful spells still at hand.

Still calling out "Doom!" the dire corbies rushed forward again, clawing at their enemies.  Xandro got hit with both claws from his foe and the dire corby rent his talons across the bard, cutting open deep gashes that spilled forth his blood.  He collapsed onto the hard floor, bleeding out at a horrendous rate.

Seeing this, Wakuren pulled out another of his _cure light wounds_ scrolls, casting it upon Xandro and seeing the bard's wounds heal up. But still the bard lay there unmoving, causing the cleric of Cal to worry he'd been too late for his friend, only to belatedly realize Xandro was faking, hoping to catch the bird-men unawares.

Alewyth continued swinging her warhammer for all it was worth, wishing these stupid avians had bones as light as most other birds did.  But no luck; these dire corbies had long ago lost the power of flight and their wings had formed into arms, their bones apparently hardening up at the same time.

There were now five living dire corbies on the ground with the heroes, arranged in an arc surrounding their foes.  Xandro suddenly stabbed upward at a dire corby almost standing over his prone form, apparently having fallen for the bard's ruse and believing him to be dead.  The point of his rapier went deep into the avian's body, causing him to squawk something other than "Doom!" for a change as he staggered backwards with a cry of pain, allowing Xandro to regain his feet and step backwards out of immediate range of any retaliatory strikes.  Thurloe swung his bastard sword with his full might, cursing the dire corbies' blasted resilience - why wouldn't they fall?  Zander stepped even further back out of range, realizing of the five of them he was the one probably least suited to physical combat; worse yet, he was rapidly running out of even his _acid splash_ spells and before too long was going to have to rely upon his dagger, something he did not look forward to at all.

And still the dire corbies surged forward, sending drops of the heroes' blood flying with each slash of their talons.  Realizing they were hopelessly outclassed, Wakuren cast an _obscuring mist_ over the entire area - maybe they could manage to get out while they were still all alive and mobile.  Immediately figuring out the half-orc cleric's stratagem, Thurloe called out "Retreat back to the stairs!" at the top of his lungs and hoped the damned barbaric kenku didn't understand the Common tongue - very likely, if all they could say was "Doom!"

Alewyth connected a solid hit with her warhammer against the dire corby directly in front of her and then stepped back and to the side; the dire corby vanished immediately into the dark mist.  Xandro couldn't see any of the avians but had a good idea where the stairs were, so he resheathed his rapier in his belt and pulled the lute from his back, playing an inspiring ballad that would hopefully grant an extra bit of courage to his friends - and hoping against hope that the music reverberating and echoing off the cave walls would help obscure his exact location to the dire corbies, who he figured couldn't see him since he couldn't see them.

The _obscuring mist_ took the dire corbies off their stride, since they couldn't spot their foes and spent some time stumbling around searching them out.  But every moment they spent seeking the heroes was a moment they weren't actively attacking, and the heroes could use as many of those moments as they could get.  Xandro's music fought against the dire corbies' continued cries of "Doom!" and both echoed across the cavern.

But then some of the cries of "Doom!" were cut short, as if the dire corbies were being hit hard.  As none of the heroes could see each other, each was glad at least someone from their team was able to get in a few good hits during their tactical retreat.  But one by one, they exited the confines of the _obscuring mist_ spell and still the sounds of combat came from within the dark cloud.  "Are they hitting themselves?" asked Alewyth.

"Who knows, who cares?" replied Thurloe, heading for the ramp, his _everburning torch_ lighting the way for the others - although his activated sunrod was still sitting in the middle of the spider's web above, where he'd left it.

A hulking dire corby stepped out of the _obscuring mist_, his talons dripping with blood - probably Xandro's.  "Doom!" he cried, heading straight for Alewyth who, judging herself the least wounded of the five, had taken up a guard spot at the base of the sloping ramp while her friends started their cyclical ascent.  The priestess of Aerik readied herself for the avian's attack, warhammer held out laterally before her like a shield.

But before the dire corby could attack her, a disk floated out of the mist.  This was a strange disk indeed, unlike anything the young priestess had ever seen before in her life.  As it flitted laterally through the air towards the dire corby, she could see the underside held what looked like tiny stalactites in miniature, although some of these wobbled and shifted and she realized those ones were actually tentacles.  Two more slender tentacles rose up from the top of the disk, an unblinking eye poised at the tip of each.  And the disk sped forward, only to drop down upon the dire corby's head, the stalactite-spikes piercing the avian's skull.  His repeated cries of "Doom!" came to an abrupt halt - as did his forward motion - as he turned to look at what had just attacked him from above.  But the flumph had jetted straight up after its initial assault, well out of range of the dire corby's swinging talons.

Another dire corby stepped out of the _obscuring mist_, but it was followed by an entire line of flumphs, hovering at about an 8-foot height and speeding forward with powerful blasts of air from a series of holes centered along the edges of the rims of their disk-like bodies.  These new arrivals, Alewyth noted, were a pasty white in color, whereas the first one had been of a more greenish-yellow tint.

The white flumphs dropped down upon the dire corby pair, breaking up into two flying wedges of three flumphs each and attacking in sequence.  The dire corbies swatted at the flumphs and tried raking them with their talons, to little effect.  Thurloe, seeing they now had reinforcements, took advantage of the dire corbies' attention being diverted by the flumphs to stab a dire corby through the torso with his bastard sword, dropping him instantly.  Alewyth attacked the other one with her warhammer, crushing his skull as he fended off the flumphs' assault.  And then the heroes looked expectantly back at the _obscuring mist_, waiting for more of the dire corbies to emerge.

None came.  Gulping in a mouthful of air, the yellowish flumph spat out a few words in a rather squeaky voice.  "No more.  All dead," it said.

Wakuren dismissed the _obscuring mist_ spell and saw the greenish-yellow flumph had spoken true: the other dire corbies lay dead on the stone floor of the cavern, their skulls pierced by the flumphs' spikes.  A few of the white flumphs maneuvered over to the dead avians, dribbling acid onto their bodies from their hollow tentacles and slurping up the slurried remains as the acid broke down their skin and muscle tissue.

Another gulp of air by the yellowish flumph and a query was squeaked out of one of its rim-holes.  "Why here?"

Alewyth stepped forward and decided to be their spokesperson.  "We were sent to find a pile of dreamstones said to be somewhere within this cave network," she answered.  She opted not to get into the whole deal with the Queen of Dreams - it would require far too much explaining if she started down that path.

Another gulp of air.  "Describe dreamstones."

"Black stones, smooth, with flecks of white and gold," the priestess replied, basing her description on the ones the Queen of Dreams had shown them in the Dreamlands.

Another gulp of air, and then, "Dreamstones yours.  We fetch."  The flumph swung its eye-stalks around to encompass each of the heroes in turn.  It waggled its tentacles about a bit and announced, "detecting good" - and Alewyth realized she was facing some type of cleric!  She absently wondered what god the flumphs might worship.

The flumph cleric lowered in elevation and approached Xandro.  "Not good," it squeaked, causing the bard to back away, wondering if this strange little creature was about to attack him.  But after some further tentacle-wiggling, it announced, "Not evil" in its squeaky little voice and was apparently satisfied.

Upon some unspoken communication that seemed to be a sort of tentacular sign language, the six white flumphs jetted up to the dire corbies' cave and had a look about, returning shortly thereafter and giving their report to the yellowish-green leader.  Their findings - likely that the dire corbies had all been taken out by the combined efforts of the flumphs and the heroes - were received with apparent satisfaction.  "Follow us," the flumph cleric squeaked, leading the heroes back towards the large stone Wakuren and Alewyth had spotted in the vast fungal cavern around the corner to the northwest.

Once there, the group saw the "large stone" had been in fact the calciferous shell of a flail snail, who had extended its head back out and was busily devouring a choice growth of lichen with a raspy tongue.  "Wait here," the flumph cleric squeaked, while the six flumphs darted high up into the cavern and disappeared for a few minutes inside a pair of narrow openings near the top of the cavern wall to the north.

When they returned, each of the six dropped two dreamstones onto the floor before the feet of the heroes.  "Dreamstones yours," the flumph cleric reiterated.

While the others bent down to gather up the objects of their quest, Wakuren looked over to the far wall to the west, for he'd noticed movement.  What he had at first taken to be lumpy outgrowths of stone from the side of the cave wall had likewise proven to be snail shells, only the creatures who bore them were not flail snails but snailfolk, human-sized gastropods who could maneuver their pliable bodies into the semblance of arms and legs.  They ambled over to say hello, emboldened by the fact their flumph guardians showed no fear before these five newcomers.  After having been told the heroes had slain the dire corbies who occasionally preyed upon the snailfolk, each insisted upon thanking each hero in turn, a process which involved placing a slime-coated right hand upon the heroes' left shoulder.  Alewyth looked at the sticky spot in distaste but kept any looks of disgust from her face.

"There are a full dozen," Zander reported back, taking stock of the dreamstones.  "Just like the Queen said."

"Then we should get back," prompted Thurloe, not wanting to spend any more time in these fungal caves - no telling what kind of nasty spores might be floating around.  They said their goodbyes and returned the way they'd come.

"Too late in the day for the full ride back," Xandro observed when they'd returned to the wolf den.  "We want to just camp out here for the night?"

"It's kind of cramped, isn't it?" asked Alewyth, frowning.  It was plenty spacious for five adventurers, but when you added five riding mounts into the mix....

"We're plenty safe in here," remarked Zander.  "And the horses and mules are safe as well.  We probably won't even need to post a guard - we'll hear anything trying to get past the wagon."  That seemed true, so the group spent their first night "in the field" camped in a crowded cave with a bunch of animals.  They practiced their meditative "fall asleep" rituals and were out like lights, reporting back to the Queen of Dreams of their success and sleeping contentedly until the bats returned in the wee hours of dawn, flying over the upturned wagon and into the wolf den, to flap up to their own nesting area to sleep the daylight hours away.

That was as good a signal as any for the group to reattach the mules to the wagon and start back to their own homes themselves.

- - -

We played this in a short session: just over three hours, in fact.  I had thought it might run short so I had the fourth adventure all prepped - as that one was definitely a short one, probably playable in a little over an hour.  However, Vicki had hurt her back two days earlier and was still rather sore; when I offered up a short adventure to follow this one, she admitted she'd really rather go back home and take some more of her pain meds.  So next time we play we'll probably run through adventures four and five in one go.

- - -

T-shirt worn: My white "Walking Dead" shirt, to represent the goop ghoul.  It would have also fit in nicely with the short adventure I had planned to run after this adventure, but we opted not to do that this same game session.


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## Richards (Aug 9, 2020)

...There will now be an intermission of unknown duration: this campaign is being put on indefinite hold due to the COVID-19 situation.

Here's the situation: this campaign contains five players and a DM from two families living in the same small town.  Both families have been more or less quarantined at home since March, and Dan and I are already exposed to each other at work (although we take all the normal precautions: masks, hand sanitizer, social distancing, ranged temperature scans upon entering our work building, etc.), so we had decided cross-contact between two otherwise quarantined family groups was presenting no further danger to each other and continued playing through our two campaigns.  And that was all fine and dandy...but next week both Harry and Joey start school.

Now granted, they'll be taking their own precautions at their respective schools, but there will now be a lot more opportunities for either one of them to pick up germs and bring them home to pass them on to their families.  And I have a doubly at-risk wife at home: she's 72 years old (high risk category) with on-going medical conditions (higher risk category).  So as much as we've enjoyed being able to continue on with our D&D campaigns, it's not worth risking my wife's life to keep playing.  And thus our hiatus.

I'm not sure how long we'll put these campaigns on hold.  We might be able to get in a game at the end of Christmas break, if it's long enough (and the two schools sync up their vacations) that we can get in a two-week quarantine period at our individual homes to ensure everyone's still doing fine and then fit in a game session towards the end.  Failing that, we'll probably start up in May again, once the schools have let out for the summer.

But school starting back up is going to affect us more than just putting our D&D campaigns on hold.  We're also going to have to break into two camps here at the Richards household; Logan's going to have to be the one with direct contact with my wife Mary (getting her pills, etc.) since they'll be the only ones at home while Harry's in school and I'm at work (right now, I work one week and then telework the next week), while I'll be the one in direct contact with Harry, since we'll need to limit his contact with Mary and also with Logan, as he'll be in direct contact with Mary.  (Harry's school does offer an option to do classes on-line but he's not eligible as he's in a special needs program and they want the continued daily physical presence with the special education teachers.)  So we've got some massive changes coming up over the horizon.

In any case, thanks for reading and hopefully I'll be in a position to continue this Story Hour before too long.

Johnathan


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## Azmarck (Aug 9, 2020)

Just wanted to say I wish you, your family and Dan's family a safe and healthy hiatus.  I will miss reading your wonderful posts, but I totally agree that risking your wife's health just isn't worth the risk.  Thank you for all of the time and effort that you have made to bring us stories so far.  Time to start some re-reads!

Best wishes,

A


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## Richards (Dec 31, 2020)

*ADVENTURE 4: INVISIBLE STALKER*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 1​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 1​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 1​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 1​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 1​
Game Session Date: 30 December 2020

- - -

Thurloe stood up and stretched, his back stiff and sore from a night lying upon the cold, hard stone of a cave floor.  As he climbed over the wagon, tipped on its side the day before to keep predators away from the cave's entrance, Wakuren woke up and saw him.  “Where are you going?” the half-orc asked.

“Takin' a leak.  Be right back,” Thurloe promised.

By the time he returned, the others had all awakened as well and Wakuren, Xandro, and Zander were carefully tipping the wagon back over to its normal orientation. Then Alewyth led the two mules, Mica and Perseverance, out of the cramped cave and into the restraints that allowed them to pull the wagon behind them.  The three horses, White, Eddy, and Horse (Thurloe didn't believe in wasting a lot of time on sentimentality when it came to naming beasts of burden), seemed glad to have been freed from the close confines of the cave in which the adventurers had all spent the night and they eagerly went grazing nearby while the others geared up in their armor and loaded up the wagon.

It was a seven-hour trip back south to Port Duralia, but the group wasn't in any particular hurry and let the animals trudge along at a comfortable speed.  Once they left the mountains and got back on the main road, they saw plenty of traffic; not unusual, for Port Duralia was a major merchant hub and goods brought in from sea were sent elsewhere throughout Armaturia via the numerous Trade Roads.  After stopping by the roadside for a mid-day meal (and several stops at the roadside stopping points that sported small shrines and – more importantly – covered latrines) they rolled into their home city just as the sun was about to go down.

The group had taken rooms in an inn Thurloe had recommended and they were headed that way when all of a sudden a white-garbed form came crashing into their midst, screaming in fear.  This was a young woman of some twenty-odd summers, with dark, brown hair and a white nightgown reaching down to her ankles.

“Help!” she cried.  “He's going to kill me!”

Wakuren slipped down from his perch in the front of the wagon and helped the young woman to her feet.  She looked in fear for a moment at his orcish features but then saw the holy symbol of Cal around his neck and painted on the front of his shield and any such fears were instantly dissipated.  Instead, she clung to his arm and looked fearfully back at the building she had just fled.  “He was there – in my room!” she cried.

The others slipped out of their saddles and formed a protective ring around the frightened young lady.  “Who's trying to kill you?” asked Alewyth.

With a deep breath – somewhat calmer now that she had five seasoned adventurers, two of them even clerics no doubt best suited to dealing with ghosts – *Jolinda* calmed noticeably and began her tale.

“It began several weeks ago.  A man approached me in the street and started making advances.  I told him I wasn't interested but he wouldn't leave me alone.  I ran back to the shop - I own a dressmaker's shop - and locked the door.  I thought that would be the end of it, but he began following me.  I would look out the window of my shop and he would be there, across the street, watching me.  I would go to the market and he would follow me - always at a discrete distance but close enough that I was aware of his presence.

"Last week, I don't know whether he got tired of waiting or felt that the time was right at last, but he grabbed me as I was returning from the market, put a hand over my mouth, and dragged me into a back alley at knife point.  I struggled and tried to pull away.  He grappled with me, trying to pull me to the ground.  I managed to wriggle away and when I looked back-- the knife was sticking out of his neck!  He was dead!

“I-- I ran.  I didn't know what else to do!  I locked myself in my room and stayed there until the next morning.  Later that day, I informed the city guard what had happened but by then the body had been taken from the alley.

"Several times since then, I could swear I've felt him nearby, watching me, or imagined I heard his voice, whispering to me.  I put it down to my imagination, ignored it, and tried to go on with my life.

"Then, tonight, after I closed up shop, I went upstairs and got ready for bed.  I was brushing my hair, when-- when I looked up in the mirror and saw him appear - THERE IN MY ROOM!  He said, 'I have come for you, Jolinda,' in a ghastly whisper and he held out his arms as if to grab me!  I ran - right into you!  Please, please, you must save me from him!  You must!"

“So you killed this guy, and now he wants to kill you right back,” Thurloe observed.  Alewyth gave him a stern look of displeasure; in her mind, Jolinda's accidental slaying of the man who had attacked her was completely justified.

“Where were you when the ghost appeared?” asked the dwarven priestess.

“Upstairs, in my room.”

“Can you show us?”

“Yes, if you'll be there with me,” replied Jolinda.  She led them back the way she'd come, through the front door of her shop - “JOLINDA – DRESSMAKER” was painted on the wood of the door, to the right of a display window with four mannequins displaying the quality of her work – and gave them all a quick tour of the place, half expecting to see the ghost pop out at any moment.  The lower level was the shop itself, with a payment counter up front, a work table in the middle of the room, a smaller room to the northwest where finished articles of clothing (some Jolinda had made herself, others that had been brought in for repair) hung on racks, a pair of fitting rooms, a fabric storage closet, and a small room under the stairs where she kept some of her supplies.  An unlit fireplace sat in the back of the room, beside a door that led out to an alleyway behind the building.  Up the stairs there was a small kitchen and pantry, Jolinda's bedroom, a bathroom, and a door to a rooftop garden that took up the western half of the building's upper level.  There were two windows on the upper level, one in the bedroom and one in the kitchen, but while neither had any glass they both had strong shutters and were barred from the inside.  Thurloe opened each in turn and looked outside; there was no ledge on which to stand so anyone breaking in through the window would have to do so while hanging precariously from the rooftop.

“A ghost wouldn't need to come in through the window,” pointed out Alewyth.  “It could just fly through the walls.”

“Is that what it did?” Thurloe asked the dressmaker.  “Fly through the wall?”

“No,” admitted Jolinda.  “I was here, at my desk, brushing my hair” - and here she indicated a mirror atop a small desk along the eastern wall of her bedroom - “when he just sort of...appeared behind me, out of thin air!”

Zander had cast a _detect magic_ spell and was giving the entire building interior a thorough once-over with his enhanced eyesight, while Alewyth had done the same thing with a _detect undead_ spell.  Neither one saw anything out of the ordinary.

But Xandro had a bit more luck in his investigations.  On a whim, he stepped outside into the back alley and examined the lock on the back door.  Sure enough, there were recent scratch marks on the lock – it looked as if it had been picked by someone trained in the arts of thievery.

“So what does this mean?” asked Jolinda.  “It's not a ghost trying to kill me?  But the way he just appeared--”

“I think your stalker's still alive,” Thurloe cut her off, then followed up with a question of his own.  “Are you sure you killed him in the alley?”

“Well, his knife was sticking out of his neck, and there was blood all around....”

“So he could have survived.  And there was no body there the next day.”

“No, but I just assumed it had been taken away by the city guardsmen....”

“A knife wound like that, it could have done some damage to his vocal cords,” pointed out Xandro.  “You said he was speaking in a ghostly whisper – maybe that's as loud as he can talk now.”

“But he appeared out of thin air,” argued Jolinda.

“That's easily explained by invisibility,” countered Thurloe.  “Maybe a potion, maybe a spell, maybe even a ring or something.  But no, I don't think we're dealing with a ghost here.  A ghost wouldn't need to pick a lock.”

“Then he isn't after me for killing him...” began Jolinda.

“No, it sounds like he's still coming after you for the same reason as before,” sighed Alewyth, shaking her head.

“Let's make sure the place is secure,” said Thurloe, leading Wakuren and Xandro back downstairs to check the doors.  The door leading out to the rooftop garden suddenly swung open, as if by a strong gust of wind, and a ghostly voice no louder than a whisper came from outside.  “I will have you before the night is out, Jolinda.  Any that get in my way, will die!"

Zander sped forward to the doorway, activating another _detect magic_ spell, hoping to catch the outline of somebody using invisibility magic.  But he saw nothing; if the “ghost” had been there on the rooftop he wasn't there any longer. The elf walked over to the metal railing ringing the rooftop area and looked down at the bricks of the building, recognizing that a trained thief would likely have little difficulty in scaling them.

And sure enough, while Zander looked over the western wall directly across from the doorway into Jolinda's living quarters, *Ialgo* was climbing down the northern wall, lowering himself down to the back alley.  So, the little wench had gotten herself some protection, had she?  Well, two could play at that game!  Ialgo would go round up a few of his most trusted lads; they'd do whatever he said, especially it if meant they'd get to have a go at Jolinda after he was done with her!  With an invisible smirk on his invisible face, he headed down the alleyway to go gather his reinforcements.

Jolinda's guardians, in the meantime, were doing what they could to reinforce the security of the building.  The two doors on the ground level were both closed and locked and they started up a nice, blazing fire in the fireplaces on both levels, for they shared a chimney and while Xandro judged a man could fit down the chimney and enter the dwelling by that method, it wouldn't be a very good idea to try it with smoke rising up the narrow chimney and a fire waiting for him at both floors. Wakuren had a small pile of caltrops, which he scattered on the floor in front of the back door, given that had apparently been the prior means of entry.  Upstairs, Alewyth and Zander had stacked a pile of furniture in front of the door to the rooftop, so even if the “ghost” managed to open the door he couldn't just rush right in.

And then they waited.  At Zander's insistence, Jolinda stepped into the pantry and closed the door; the elf stationed himself at the top of the stairs where he could keep an eye on the pantry door.  The dressmaker's cat, *Mr. Frisky*, was placed in the bathroom where he was out of the way, but his indignant howls let everyone know what _he_ thought about this particular plan.  Alewyth stood in the kitchen, a final guard against anyone trying to get to Jolinda's hiding spot in the pantry, the dwarf's warhammer out and ready for business.  From her position she had a good view of the door to the rooftop.  Thurloe stood at the bottom of the stairs, a tanglefoot bag in hand ready to throw and his bastard sword strapped to his back where he could reach it at once.  Xandro stood, rapier in hand and lute hanging on his back, facing the back door, while Wakuren was over by the front door – more specifically, he stood by the front counter.

Many minutes later, all at once as if by some pre-arranged signal, the heroes heard slight scratching sounds at the various doors; the intruders were making a multi-pronged attack, it seemed.  Zander quickly cast a _mage armor_ spell upon himself, now that combat seemed imminent.

The rooftop door swung open and the dark-clad rogue standing there swore quietly to himself at the pile of furniture blocking his way. At the same time, the furtive scratching at the front door continued; apparently the thief trying to pick the front lock was having a bit of difficulty.  But not so the thief in the back, who opened the door and stepped boldly inside – only to trod upon a set of caltrops that pierced the soles of his shoes and caused him to yelp aloud in pain.  His leaping around caused Thurloe's thrown tanglefoot bag to go wide; with a snarl the fighter pulled the bastard sword from his back as another human male stepped in behind the hapless rogue who had stumbled into the caltrop trap; forewarned, the lowlife streetfighter in studded leather armor stepped to the side, avoiding the hazards as he brought his longsword out to threaten the dress-shop defenders, heading towards Xandro.  Wakuren stepped up beside Thurloe and cast a _shield of faith_ spell upon his friend, certain it would come in handy in the upcoming fight.  The half-orc edged past the fighter, deciding he'd best check upstairs to see if the intruders were coming from that direction as well.  But by then the rogue at the front door had mastered the lock and barged into the room, the glint of a dagger shining by the light of the fireplace across the room.  He raced along the stairwell to slash his blade at Thurloe, who handily dodged.

As the rogue upstairs started climbing over the side of Jolinda's propped-up bed, Alewyth stepped forward and swung at the intruder with the full weight of her dwarven warhammer.  The head of the weapon collided with the head of the dark-clad rogue, crushing in the side of his skull with one blow.  He collapsed in a heap and Alewyth only noted too late the sounds of someone else – someone unseen – scrambling over the furniture they'd placed as an obstacle before the back door.

A silent prayer on her lips, Alewyth swung her weapon at the spot from where she thought the sounds were coming; Aerik, God of Protection must have hear her unvoiced prayers for her warhammer struck true a second time, hitting the invisible rogue attempting to fight his way to Jolinda, wherever she might be.

Bastard sword out, Thurloe stabbed it into the caltrop victim, piercing the man's clothing and slicing a wide gash along the side of his ribs, but the man was still in the fight, although not doing much but frantically trying to pull the spikes from the bottoms of his feet.  Xandro ran him through with his rapier, killing him, but then took a hit himself from the man's fighter compatriot, whose longsword blade slashed along the bard's left arm, drawing blood.

Zander saw a humanoid outline in his _detect magic_-enhanced vision and cast a _magic missile_ spell at the invisible assassin; Ialgo was surprised at the magical assault when he thought he was undetectable.  Hearing the sounds of combat from above, Wakuren raced up the stairs, looking about for foes but seeing only the dead form of the rogue Alewyth had slain.  But then Ialgo popped into full visibility as he sent his dagger stabbing into Alewyth's side.  The priestess winced in pain and dropped a hand over the wound, where blood was pooling between her fingers.  But rather than allow herself the relative luxury of a healing spell, the dwarven priestess of Aerik counterattacked, swinging her warhammer at her now-visible foe, clocking him a good one that nearly sent him sprawling.  Even knowing he was fully flesh and blood, the rogue had an unearthly look about him, his flesh very pale and his hair practically white despite his young age; it was no wonder Jolinda had so easily believed he was a ghost!

The intruders downstairs were having trouble hitting their respective targets, for the fighter was constantly wary (to the point of distraction) of not stepping on any of the nearby caltrops that had helped do in his friend, while Thurloe was just faster than the rogue had expected and his dagger continued to just miss.  With a practiced swing of his heavy blade, Thurloe skewered the rogue through the midsection, then pulled out his blade and watched as the man dropped lifelessly to the floor.  Xandro managed to hit his own foe with the tip of his rapier, drawing a line of blood across the fighter's cheek, but he hadn't yet managed to finish him off.  With a snarl of rage, the fighter swung his blade at the bard, but Xandro nimbly leapt aside in time.  And that allowed Thurloe to run the fighter in through his back, the blade erupting from the man's stomach in a spray of blood that drenched the front of Xandro's clothes.

Seeing how weak Ialgo looked after the dwarf's attack, Zander opted to cast an _acid splash_ spell at Jolinda's tormentor; his spell struck true but failed to drop the black-clad rogue, although he did look like he was barely managing to stand on his own at this point.  Staggering away from his foes, Ialgo reactivated the power of the magic ring he wore and once again disappeared from view, hoping the cover of invisibility would allow him to escape this deathtrap.  No stupid dame, not even one as good-looking as the dressmaker, was worth his life!

Wakuren surged forward, grabbing at where Ialgo had been when he turned invisible. The half-orc's grasping hands grabbed nothing but air.  He could hear the panicked rogue climbing over the furniture again, desperately trying to gain the freedom of the rooftop garden.

Alewyth did some mental calculations in her head and cast her _ray of frost_ – the special ability she'd apparently been born with, and which set her apart from her fellow dwarves, even those from the temple – at a likely area where Ialgo might be.  But no such luck; Ialgo had by that time staggered off to the side from the spot where the dwarf had aimed.

Wiping the worst of the blood away as he raced over to the stairs – careful not to step on any errant caltrops along the way - Xandro headed up to the second floor, Thurloe following in his wake.  There they saw Alewyth and Zander swinging wildly at the air in the doorway, Wakuren right behind them.  They rushed to follow the rest of the team outside onto the rooftop, where a lucky swing by Thurloe's bastard sword cut down the invisible rogue before he could stumble over the railing and make his escape.  Popping back into visibility as he died, Ialgo's body was saved an ignominious drop to the alleyway below by a quick snatch of the rogue's collar by Thurloe.  Then the fighter dragged Ialgo's lifeless body down onto the rooftop floor.

Alewyth turned back immediately and returned to the building interior, to tell Jolinda the danger was over and let her out of the pantry.  Mr. Frisky's frantic yowls from behind the bathroom door demanded he be extended the same courtesy, but the group decided to let Jolinda field that one.

In the meantime, Thurloe bent down at Ialgo's side and pulled an expensive-looking ring from the dead man's finger.  “Yep,” the fighter announced.  “Figured it would be something like that.”  He tossed the ring over to Wakuren.  “You might want to claim this,” he advised.  “Might not be a bad idea for us to have an invisible source of healing on the team,” he suggested.

“Well, there's also Alewyth...” began the half-orc, not wanting to claim what he recognized was a very valuable bit of magical treasure for his own without allowing the others on the team to stake their own claim.

“Don't take this the wrong way,” replied the young fighter, “but she's much more of a bad-ass than you are.  I think we'll let you stick to the healing and let her go crazy with that hammer of hers.”

Even Wakuren couldn't argue against that logic.

- - -

Jolinda wasn't wealthy by any stretch of the imagination, but she insisted on paying the group 50 gp for their assistance and offered to do any mending they might ever need for free.

Incidentally, we're planning on getting in as much gaming as possible between now and 11 Jan 21 (when Joey returns to school and we have to start worrying about COVID contamination again).  So I'm cranking out the “skeleton” write-ups the day of the gaming session but won't necessarily get around to writing up the Story Hour segments until later on; after all, we'll have another COVID break from 11 Jan 21 until two weeks after both Harry and Joey get out of school in May or June, so there will be plenty of time to write up the goings-on of the adventures we go through now (in both this campaign and my son Logan's “Raiders of the Overreach” campaign) during the enforced break.

- - -

T-shirt worn: I had originally planned to wear one of my “Walking Dead” T-shirts for this adventure (and the next one, as it would have been appropriate for both), but in the ended decided to wear a Duck Dynasty shirt with the image of Phil Robinson and his favorite saying, “Happy Happy Happy.”  I thought it was a  particularly good representation of the feeling we all had that we were once again gaming together, after an absence of gaming since August.


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## Richards (Jan 7, 2021)

*ADVENTURE 5: RACE AGAINST THE MOON*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 1​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 1​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 1​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 1​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 1​
Game Session Date: 30 December 2020

- - -

“I have determined the gemcutter best suited to carve the dreamstones you have gathered,” advised the Queen of Dreams.  “While his name is unknown to me – most people do not announce their names while dreaming – I have been able to determine the location of where he sleeps.”  She gave an address in Port Duralia, one Xandro recognized as being in a neighborhood of the upper classes.  “He is, by appearance, a dwarven gentleman who shaves the sides of his beard, leaving only the spaces around his mouth unshaven.  You should be able to track him down.  I will visit his dreams and reinforce the idea he should aid you, but alas I have no control over how much of it will be retained once he awakens.”

She walked over to a table that hadn't been there a mere moment before – for such were the ways of things in the Dreamlands – and highlighted an elaborate diagram showing the ways in which the dreamstones were to be cut and what runes should be etched into them.  “You will need a copy of this made in the Waking World,” the Queen of Dreams informed the group.  She looked over at Thurloe, who even in his dreams appeared in his full armor and with his bastard sword in its sheath upon his back.  Despite his appearance, though, the Queen of Dreams was well aware he had been studying the arcane arts in addition to swordcraft in his spare time, through a tome of magical spells his wizardly mentor had left for him before her sudden departure.  “As your magical studies make you the most familiar with carefully inscribing arcane writings, you will perform the copying,” she informed him, pulling back a chair from the table and indicating he should be seated.

At her urging, Thurloe sat down at the table and reached for the quill, parchment, and inkwell waiting for him there.  “Do your best to make an exact duplicate,” the Queen of Dreams instructed him.

“How exactly is this going to help?” asked Thurloe, studying the diagram and carefully inscribing a duplicate on the blank sheet of parchment.  “Is this supposed to help me remember it in detail, so I can redraw it when I wake up?”

The Queen suppressed a quiet smirk.  “Not exactly,” she said.  “Those of you capable of recalling the memory of your time spent in the Dreamlands upon awakening have several other abilities as well.  One is your ability to tap into the dream energy of this plane to cast your special abilities, like your own _touch of fatigue_.  Another is the ability to have your body in the Mortal World mirror the actions you take here in the Dreaming Lands.”

“You mean, like sleepwalking?” asked Alewyth.

“Very much so,” smiled the Queen of Dreams.  “Thurloe, in the Mortal World, has risen from his bed and is drawing a diagram quite exactly like the one he's drawing here.”  Thurloe looked down at the parchment before him and took extra care to get everything right in his duplicate.

“Take care with the handwriting,” advised Zander.  “We want to be able to read what it is you're writing.”

“Shut up and get out of my light,” grumbled the fighter, concentrating hard on his task.  The others left him to his drawing.

The next morning, sure enough when Thurloe awoke there was a completed diagram, in his own handwriting, on a sheet of parchment at the writing table in his room.  It looked, to his eyes, to be identical to the one he recalled inscribing in his dreams last night.  "That's pretty weird," he said to himself as he got dressed for the day.

Once everyone had gathered together and eaten a quick breakfast, and Alewyth and Wakuren had completed their morning prayers and prepared their spells for the day, the group as a whole mounted their horses and the mule-driven wagon and headed over to the house of the dwarven gemcutter, going by the memory of the location on the Queen's map in the Dreamlands.  Xandro, well-versed in the layout of the city of Port Duralia, had no trouble finding the exact building: a one-story stone dwelling in a good neighborhood.  The house was a small manor home, with a sturdy-looking wooden door at the building's front.  Everyone dismounted and Alewyth knocked boldly at the door, the group having decided to make her their official spokeswoman since they'd be dealing with a dwarven gemcutter.  Wakuren stood at the back of the group, not wanting his orcish features to be the first thing the dwarf might see upon opening the door.  But his gesture was for naught, for there was no answer to Alewyth's knocks.

"Nobody's home," Zander observed.  "Now what?"

Xandro made a circuit around the building, to make sure the dwarf wasn't out back or anything.  He returned, shaking his head.  "Nobody home," he acknowledged.  "Let's go talk to the neighbors."

The dwarf's neighbors were more than willing to talk to Alewyth, once they saw her holy symbol of Aerik and she explained they were worried about him.  They learned the man's name was *Kerndell Lapidarius*, he had lived there for at least the last 30 years, he owned a jewelry shop on the Trade Way, he'd been looking a bit haggard the last couple of days (something to do with a brother or cousin, the neighbor recalled), and his jewelry shop had been closed for the last three days.  They were more than happy to give Alewyth directions to Kerndell's shop, so that was the next place they hit up.

However, the shop was still closed, with a handwritten sign attached to the front door with a nail stating the shop was closed due to a family emergency.  No further details were given.

"Bummer," groused Thurloe.  "We're getting nowhere."

"So what do we do?  Break in and look for clues?" asked Zander.

"I'll not be breaking into a jewelry store," asserted Alewyth.  "That's a good way to be thrown into the city dungeons!"  Thurloe started rolling his eyes at the dwarf's good nature, but then she surprised him by adding, "...We'd be better off breaking into his house and looking around - we'd be more likely able to talk our way out of trouble there than breaking into a place of business."

However, upon returning to the Lapidarius home, it turned out that breaking in was no longer required; Alewyth knocked again at the door just in case and this time after a half minute or so an elderly human woman answered the door.  "May I help you?" asked *Mrs. Applegate*, a widowed housekeeper under Mr. Lapidarius's employ.  After they explained their prior visit, Mrs. Applegate apologized for not having been there earlier for she'd just now returned from the market with the day's purchases.  "But come in, come in," she said, leading the group into a well-maintained sitting room.  "I'm afraid Mr. Lapidarius is not at home, however - he appears to have stepped out this morning.  Skipped his breakfast and everything."

"Do you happen to know where he might have gone?" asked Alewyth.

"No, I'm afraid not.  Something to do with his cousin, I imagine."  Mrs. Applegate gave them the details of Kerndell's recent activities: three days ago, his cousin *Jorndell Craghammer*, a dwarven warrior, showed up to consult with Kerndell about something.  Jorndell's right arm was wrapped in bloody bandages, and whatever they talked about had seemed to upset Kerndell greatly.  They argued and Jorndell left; since then, Kerndell had been very agitated but Mrs. Applegate didn't know any specifics.  "You might try asking at the Temple, though," she suggested.  "Mr. Lapidarius is a frequent visitor and a firm supporter of the Temple of Aerik."  She gifted Alewyth with a wide smile, which the dwarven priestess returned.

"Thank you very much, Mrs. Applegate," said Alewyth.  "We will make inquiries at the Temple, then."

The temple clerics were more than happy to tell Alewyth, a fellow adherent of their faith, what they could.  "Brother Kerndell made some inquiries into the disease of lyncanthropy," the head cleric informed her.  "We lent him a tome on the subject, as he has been a strong supporter of the temple for many years."

"Did he mention why he was interested in lycanthropy?" pressed Xandro, although he was fairly certain it had something to do with Jorndell's wounded arm.

"No, but we did explain to him how the disease could be prevented and cured," the priest replied.  He explained to the group what he had told Kerndell earlier: a _remove disease_ or _heal_ spell cast upon the afflicted within three days of the bite that caused the disease would prevent it from transforming the poor victim into a werebeast; failing that, it would take a _remove curse_ or _break enchantment_ spell cast upon the victim on one of the three days of the full moon.

"When's the next full moon?" asked Zander.

"Tonight," replied the head cleric, grimly.

Heading back to the Lapidarius home, the group discussed what had likely happened.  "Jorndell gets himself bitten by a werebeast of some type, tells Kerndell about it, and now he's trying to get him cured before the full moon rises tonight," summarized Xandro.

"So where is he now?" asked Alewyth.

"And what were he and his cousin fighting about?" Wakuren wanted to know.

"Maybe Jorndell doesn't believe anything'll happen to him," suggested Zander.  "Or, worse yet, maybe he _wants_ to become a werebeast."  The others gave him querulous looks.  "What?  I could see some people thinking it might be a good thing, being stronger, faster, tougher."

"Yeah, and turning into an unthinking beast three nights out of the month," scoffed Thurloe.

"Not everybody thinks these things all the way through," observed Wakuren.

Mrs. Applegate ushered them back into the sitting room upon their return to the missing dwarf's house and they filled her in on what they had learned.  She had put the groceries away by that time and pointed out she'd found one of the knives missing from the kitchen.  It was one of a set of six, all with silver blades.  "He's out hunting the werebeasts that did this to his cousin," suggested Wakuren.

"Oh dear!" gasped Mrs. Applegate at the thought of her mild-mannered jeweler engaging in a fight with a lycanthrope.

"The temple clerics told us he had borrowed a book on lycanthropes," prompted Alewyth.  "Would you happen to know where Mr. Lapidarius might have it?"

"It'll be downstairs in his study, more than likely," guessed the elderly housekeeper, grabbing a candle and leading the way down a long set of stairs.  The one-story house was aboveground but Kerndell Lapidarius, a dwarf, preferred spending his free time under the ground level.  An extensive basement under the house above contained his bedroom, study, and a cellar stocked with kegs of dwarven ale, while Mrs. Applegate's living quarters were upstairs.  But the borrowed book was downstairs on a low table before a sofa.  Several pages had been bookmarked; Alewyth quickly noted these dealt with wererats in particular.

Wakuren, in the meantime, had found another book lying open on the table and looked at it.  It depicted the sewers beneath the city of Port Duralia, with two different sections circled with a question mark nearby.  "Looks like he's been narrowing down possible lair locations for the wererats who bit his cousin."

"It seems kind of risky, a gemcutter going into a wererat lair armed with a silver kitchen knife," pointed out Thurloe.  "Is he that much of a vengeance guy?"

"I should say not!" huffed Mrs. Applegate.

"More likely, he's gone to get his cousin back from the wererats and drag him to the Temple of Aerik to get cured," surmised Alewyth.  She turned to the housekeeper.  "Mrs. Applegate, do you think it would be possible for us to borrow the rest of the knives in your set?"

"Certainly, if it will help you bring back Mr. Lapidarius safe and sound."

"Thank you.  We have a dozen dreamstones we'll leave here as collateral," she said, handing over the small pouch containing the gems they'd gathered in the mountains to the north and which they'd hoped Kerdndell Lapidarius could carve into shape for them.  "Got a good idea where we should start looking?" the priestess asked Wakuren and Xandro, who were studying the sewer maps.

The bard put his finger down on one of the two circled areas.  "We ought to start here," he said.  "It's situated below a rougher section of town - it would make sense that the wererats would lair there.  Quite a lot of them are thieves; they'd have a better time of it blending in when they're in their human forms."

"Human?" Alewyth asked.

"Human, dwarven, elven - whatever.  As far as I know, anybody bitten by a wererat has a chance of becoming one."

The group said their farewells to the worried housekeeper and headed to the rough part of town, where the sewer map showed the wererat lair was likely to be located.  "No open flames," advised Thurloe.  He activated a sunrod and Zander removed the _everburning torch_ he'd recovered from a kenku nest, secure in the knowledge that its flames were merely illusory.  Then Thurloe pulled open a manhole cover and started climbing the ladder down into the sewers.  Wakuren activated his _ring of invisibility_ while Zander followed the fighter down into the sewers, casting a _mage armor_ spell upon himself as he did so.  Xandro followed the dwarf, unstrapping his lute from his back and playing a melody meant to inspire courage among his team.  He was glad to see that although the sewer waters were high, they didn't reach the ledge to which the ladder had led them.  Alewyth and the now-invisible Wakuren followed down the vertical shaft, the half-orc pulling the manhole closed above him before descending the rusting metal ladder.

"Which way?" asked Zander.  Thurloe started heading west and soon found a wooden board laying on the ledge.  From the light of his sunrod, he could see another ledge on the other side of the sewer waters; the board looked to be at least 12 feet long, long enough to span the 10-foot width of the sewers to get to the other side.  Judging this to be a makeshift bridge, he maneuvered the board into place and crossed over to the other side of the sewer waters, the slightly soggy board easily supporting his weight.  There was another board of similar size along the new ledge leading south, no doubt a similarly temporary bridge used by those traveling the other way.  There was a wooden door in the wall just ahead, beads of moisture coating its surface; Thurloe crept up to it, wary for enemies.  Wakuren crossed the bridge and slid past the fighter, scanning the area with his natural darkvision.  This new ledge went south for 30 feet or more and then rounded a corner.  Heading to the corner, Wakuren spotted a pair of zombies standing on either side of a more permanent bridge leading further south.  These zombies were motionless and not at all human; while humanoid in build their heads were those of large frogs or toads.  Each stared directly ahead and was quite motionless, obviously unaware of the invisible Wakuren's presence.  The half-orc cleric called over to Thurloe and told him of his discovery.

"Guards, huh?" murmured the fighter.  "Might be an indication we're in the right place."  He then kicked through the soggy-looking door before him, having already determined it was locked.  The door smashed inward in splinters, revealing a large room just beyond filled with crates, boxes, and assorted stolen goods - and a pair of startled wererats in their hybrid forms, humanoid rats wielding short swords.  Among them stood a dwarf holding a battleaxe, a dirty bandage with days-old bloodstains wrapped around his left arm.

By then, Zander had crossed the bridge and could see one of the wererats in the light of Thurloe's sunrod from his position just behind the human fighter.  The elven sorcerer cast a _magic missile_ at the wererat, still too startled to react to the smashing in of the door to their hidden lair.  The darting energy shocked the wererat into action and it leapt at Thurloe, short sword out and swinging.  Thurloe caught the blade with his own bastard sword and pushed it off to the side.

The other wererat grabbed a crossbow from his back and dashed away to the south, out through a doorway leading to the bridge whose southern edge was guarded by the pair of bullywug zombies.  The wererat leaned over the western edge of the bridge's stone rails, but he couldn't see the intruders on the ledge outside the door Thurloe had smashed through; the walls of the lair were blocking his sight.  (Wakuren saw him just fine, though: the wererat headed south past the zombies and went west up to another, much wider bridge that spanned a wider section of sewer waters rolling beneath, from where he'd most definitely be able to see the adventurers on the ledge.)

Alewyth and Xandro stepped across the makeshift bridge to stand behind Zander, waiting for an opportunity to enter the room once Thurloe got out of the doorway.  But the fighter was now not only battling the sword-wielding wererat but Jorndell as well, who was swinging his axe for all it was worth.  Defending against two foes at once, it wasn't surprising that Jorndell's axe made it past Thurloe's defenses, but Wakuren had sidled up behind the fighter in the meantime and cast a _cure light wounds_ spell upon Thurloe that healed up the worst of his damage thus far.

But the mere fact that he'd been attacked by the dumbass dwarf who Kerndell had apparently tried to rescue in the first place (which raised the question in the fighter's mind: just where _was_ Kerndell, after all?) was enough to cause Thurloe to see red.  Ignoring the wererat for the moment, Thurloe rounded on the dwarven warrior and brought his bastard sword crashing down upon him, dropping him unconscious and bleeding out with one powerful stroke of his blade.  Zander took the opportunity to scoot past his friend and fully enter the lair, casting a second _magic missile_ spell at the wererat he'd hit before with such a spell.  Hissing in pain, the wererat lunged at the elven sorcerer, stabbing out with the blade of his short sword.  The elf managed to avoid the strike - but it had been close!

The second wererat was climbing the steps to the longer bridge as a squeaking sound was heard by Alewyth and Xandro, still standing along the ledge outside the lair's western entrance door, now in smithereens.  Looking aghast at the filthy sewer waters behind them, they saw what could only be hundreds - if not thousands - of rats swimming determinedly through the nasty waters like a great, furry mass.  They were being propelled forward not only by their own efforts but also by the sluggish current of the sewer waters, coming from the west and then heading south past the wererat lair.  Alewyth's mouth curled in distaste at the thought of the rat swarm advancing upon her and covering her in a multitude of sewer-drenched vermin.

But then a half dozen tiny spears came hurling in her direction, some of them hitting her and some striking Xandro, who had been continuing his tune upon his lute.  Squinting at the approaching mass of swimming rats, the dwarven priestess saw a half dozen tiny little men riding upon the backs of a few of the rats in the teeming swarm, their hairless bodies seemingly misshapen and covered in wrinkles.  Each of these jermlaine had plenty more weapons strapped to their backs and with evil grins each pulled out another tiny spear, ready to launch them at the enemies of their wererat allies as needed.  Alewyth cast a _protection from evil_ spell upon herself, certain of the approaching swarm's evil intents.  Xandro crossed back over the wooden plank bridge, getting back to the original ledge.  He continued playing his lute, hoping the magical effects would prove beneficial to his friends in the combats ongoing and to soon follow.

The wererat fighting Zander backed away in a tactical retreat, the _magic missiles_ seemingly haven taken a bit of the fight out of him.  But by now his partner was at the top of the southernmost bridge and had a good view of Thurloe's broad back.  He fired his light crossbow and hissed in irritation as the bolt went wide, striking the side of the brick structure to the right of the doorway.  Wakuren, still invisible, stepped into the room and stabilized the unconscious Jorndell with a _cure minor wounds_ spell, just enough to close up his wounds but not enough to restore him to consciousness just yet - the half-orc wisely decided it was best if he remained out of the rest of the fight if possible.

Thurloe, unaware of the botched crossbow bolt attack behind him, crossed the room and brought his bastard sword crashing into the wounded wererat cowering in the corner.  It cried out in pain, collapsed to the floor, and reverted to its human form upon death.  "One down!" Thurloe called to his companions.  Zander scooted over to stand beside the fallen wererat; it was away from combat and the sorcerer would greatly prefer not getting involved in any direct melee conflicts if he could help it.  While looking around for potential hidden enemies, Zander noticed a silver knife on the floor, looking suspiciously similar to the one he himself held.  Closer examination showed they were both from the same cutlery set - Kerndell must have made it at least this far.

As Alewyth had expected, the rat swarm veered sideways from the current and headed in her direction, already dozens of furry bodies crawling up from the slimy sewer water and onto the ledge upon which she stood.  She had her warhammer out and was crushing the soaked bodies as fast as she could, but with every one she smashed it seemed another three took its place.  She felt the bites of multiple teeth piercing the skin of her legs through her armor and winced at the thought of the disease many of the rats were likely carrying - she'd just have to hope her sturdy dwarven constitution was up to the task of fighting off whatever bugs these filthy rats might carry.  But the jermlaine were still active, hurling their tiny weapons at both Alewyth and Xandro, almost causing the bard to stop his song in frustration.  There were now enough rats on the ledge around Alewyth that heading back over by her side was no longer an option; he was pretty much stuck here.

Seeing the rats likely had the others taken care of, the second wererat ran back the way he'd come and raced to defend his lair, ordering the bullywug zombies to accompany him.  They complied wordlessly, stumbling after the wererat over the smaller bridge leading to their stash of stolen goods.

Unseen by any of the current combatants, another force was fast approaching the wererat lair by a different side tunnel than the ones the rats and jermlaine had taken; this one ran parallel but was some 30-40 feet south.  Down its length swam a quintet of bullywugs, nearly all but their bulging eyes below the surface of the sewer waters.  They entered the south-flowing stretch of water and swam determinedly to the east, over to a section below the bridge the wererat and zombies were just now traversing, to a different entry door into the room of loot than the one Thurloe had smashed open, this one in the southeastern corner of the room.  The wererats and bullywugs had been fighting for ages it seemed, each wanting to rule over the sewers beneath the city and neither fully able to defeat the other, but now the wererats had taken it too far, for bullywug scouts had reported the wererats had had their own fallen dead reanimated as zombie corpses.  Using their own dead against them - that was going too far!  The bullywug cleric and his four fighters would see an end to these wererat vermin once and for all!

Wakuren had gone back outside to the ledge - just barely missing the last of the bullywugs as they swam on by - at the sound of Alewyth's cries.  Bringing his shield to bear, he used it to full advantage, crushing rat bodies beneath it with each swing.  The attacks against the swarming vermin canceled out his magical _invisibility_, but the half-orc wasn't concerned - it was more important aiding his friends.

With battle having stopped for now in the loot room, Thurloe looked around and saw a pair of silver candlesticks - probably worth a bit of coin in their own right, but also decent bludgeoning weapons to be used against any other wererats they might happen to encounter in this den.  Zander dragged the wererat corpse out of the door Thurloe smashed in, thinking perhaps if there was "free food" available the rat swarm would take advantage of it instead of trying to eat them.  But the rats were into a frenzy already, biting at Alewyth and now Wakuren as well.  However, the jermlaine had mostly stopped throwing their spears at the heroes, for they'd spotted the bullywugs and knew them to be a much-hated enemy of their wererat allies; they directed their javelin attacks toward the bullywugs instead.  Xandro swapped his lute for his crossbow, sending a bolt into the furry mass, fully realizing it wasn't going to do the swarm as a whole much damage but it was at least _something_ - he felt helpless, trapped on this side of the far ledge but unwilling to wade into the mass of furry bodies.  Fortunately, a few of the rats at the southern edge of the swarm had discovered the lifeless form of the slain wererat and decided to go chew on him for a bit.  Alewyth took advantage of their redirected attention to slay one of the jermlaine with her warhammer and that was all it took for the other jermlaine to decide they'd had enough: at their direction, five rats broke off from the swarm and swam south, each ridden by one of the wrinkly-skinned humanoids.

The lone remaining wererat and his zombie guards didn't see the approaching bullywugs on their way back into the loot room.  Upon the wererat's orders, the shambling zombies preceded him into the den.  Zander was the first to spot them and called out a warning; Wakuren activated his _ring of invisibility_ again and headed back towards the loot room, confident that Alewyth and Xandro could deal with the rat swarm and their jermlaine allies.  Thurloe held his bastard sword at the ready by the doorway and waited for a zombie to stumble into range - it wasn't as if these things were known for their tactical brilliance.  He didn't have long to wait, either - but long enough to try to recall at the last minute whether zombies were easier taken down with slashing or bludgeoning weapons.  At the last minute, he sheathed his bastard sword and used a candlestick as a club to bash into the skull of the first bullywug zombie to enter the room.  The side of the skull caved in a bit but the undead thing barely seemed to notice, continuing its stagger into the room.  With a curse, Thurloe recalled it was _skeletons_ who didn't like bludgeoning damage, not zombies - before you actually entered combat with such undead yourselves, it was hard to remember this kind of stuff!

The wererat leaped into combat behind his zombie, striking at Thurloe with his short sword.  Alewyth, having heard Zander's warning about approaching zombies, waded through rat bodies and entered the room past the smashed-in door, her holy symbol of Aerik held before her.  She tried turning them, blasting them with Aerik's holy energy, but she failed to focus her attention correctly the first time and the attempt failed.  Xandro continued shooting at the rats and eventually they lost interest, although a few of them took a few nibbles out of the corpse of the dead wererat before departing back into the filthy waters and following their jermlaine leaders out of combat.  Breathing a sigh of relief at their departure, the bard crossed back over the makeshift bridge to meet back up with the rest of his group.

By the time Wakuren, now invisible once again, had re-entered the wererat den the bullywugs outside had all crawled up onto the southern ledge and surrounded the door.  But inside the room, the combat was blazing hot and furious.  Zander stabbed forward with his silver knife at the wererat, ignoring his distaste for hand-to-hand combat because he wanted to pull his own weight in this battle (and fearful of casting his last _magic missile_ spell - he had just enough arcane energy remaining for one final use of the spell - in case he might need it later).  The silver blade sliced open a wound in the wererat's fur that seemed to burn the lycanthrope.  Thurloe wheeled on the rat-man and clonked him a good one on the side of his furry muzzle with his silver candlestick, knocking loose a tooth or two in the process.  But then the first zombie brought a web-fingered hand slamming into Thurloe's head, knocking him off to the side for a moment as the second bullywug zombie staggered into the room.  But then Alewyth tried turning the zombies a second time and this time it worked: with low moans, the undead forms flinched from her holy symbol and slouched away, back the way they'd come.

Wakuren popped back into sudden visibility, a silver knife sticking into the side of the astonished wererat, who spat blood from his mouth and fell to the floor, his body still very much furred and his pink tail sticking out of his breeches, indicating he was merely unconscious, not yet dead.

"That looks like it!" crowed Thurloe, glad to have finally overcome their foes.  But his celebration was premature, for at that very moment the southern door of the lair exploded inwards and five burly bullywugs stepped into the cluttered room.  "Kill everyone!" bellowed the bullywug cleric.  "They're likely wererats!"

Wakuren stepped forward, his shield held to the side and his bloody knife, with which he had just brought down the second wererat, held out before him by its silver blade.  "We are not your enemies!" he called to the bullywugs.  "Look: the silver of this blade does me no harm!  And we have just slain the two wererats we found lairing here!"

"Well, we almost have," countered Thurloe, standing above the fallen wererat who had yet to revert to human form.  But with one final swipe of his bastard sward, the fighter parted the wererat's head from its body and both changed form in an instant.  He tossed the now-human head over to the bullywug cleric.  "Here you go," he said.  "A token of our good intentions.  We got nothing against you guys."

"Where is cleric?" demanded the mudlord - the bullywug spellcaster leading the small troupe of frog-man fighters.  "These rats" - here he indicated the two dead humans on the floor before him, each of them apparently known to him personally - "didn't have the power to raise our dead as zombies!"

"As to that, we cannot say," Wakuren promised the mudlord.  "Perhaps he is elsewhere.  But we have encountered no cleric allied with the wererats we slew."  The mudlord narrowed his bulging eyes, huffed in irritation, but spun about and indicated for his troops to follow him.  "We leave," he announced to the heroes.  He fully intended to track down the bullywug zombies Alewyth had turned and put them out of their miserable undead states, so they could be returned to the soothing sewer waters of their birth.

Combat having been averted, the heroes gathered together and the two clerics tended to the wounds of those who had been hurt.  Zander pointed out the knife he'd found, opining it was undoubtedly Kerndell's.  "He's got to be around here somewhere," the elf stated.

As a group, the heroes headed south the way the wererat and his zombie bodyguards had come, turning west at the end of the smaller overpass and then going over the larger bridge spanning the flowing sewer waters.  There was a side room just ahead and Wakuren, in the lead, spotted a pair of skeletal frog-men standing guard before a metal door.  "Good thing those bullywugs didn't know about this," he told the others.  They'd been itching for a fight and Wakuren was well aware fighting off five unharmed bullywugs might have been more than the group would have been able to handle after their previous sewer battles.

"So what's the plan?" Zander asked.

"Bludgeoning weapons is the way to go against skeletons," Thurloe advised, wanting to get full credit for that piece of knowledge.

"We could just turn 'em," suggested Alewyth.  "That worked fine against the zombies."  Eventually it was decided Wakuren would enter the room invisibly, get into position on the far side, and then try turning them from there - so that when they tried to flee, they'd exit from the side doorway which looked to be the only way into or out of the room.  "And we can all give 'em a good whacking as they try to pass on by," chuckled Alewyth.

It was a good plan - but one that failed once Wakuren's first attempt to turn them failed, just as Alewyth's first turning attempt against the zombies hadn't worked out.  Turning undead, it seemed, was something that took a bit of practice when you weren't used to it.

"Guess we'll do this the old-fashioned way," commented Thurloe wryly as he stepped into the room and sent a silver candlestick crashing into the skull of one of the bullywug skeletons.  The sudden attack caused the skeleton to collapse into a pile of unmoving bones, whatever necromantic energy had been holding the thing together dissipating upon the creature's "death" - if you wanted to call it that.  (Thurloe certainly did; "causing a skeleton's death" sounded so much cooler than "causing a skeleton to fall apart.")  The other skeleton surged forward at Wakuren, the half-orc now fully visible after his turning attempt, swinging a rusty scimitar at the cleric's head.  Wakuren deflected the blow off of his shield.  Then Zander stepped up and slew the skeleton with the other silver candlestick, which Thurloe had handed to him since he lacked a good bludgeoning weapon.

Xandro entered the room and saw the door was locked.  Looking about, he spotted a keyring on a hook in the far corner and used it to open the door.  Inside, as expected, was Kerndell Lapidarius, his combat expertise nowhere near his skills as a gemcutter, and though he'd successfully tracked the wererats to their lair he had been unable to overpower them and rescue his cousin - who, it had turned out, didn't want anything to do with "rescue" in any case, as he fully planned on joining the wererats as a hired sword and saw lycanthropy as a set of bonus powers gained as an admission rite in joining a select group.

"Your cousin's an idiot," Thurloe told the gemcutter.

"In this, I fear, we are in full agreement," replied Kerndell.  "But he's okay?"

"He's unconscious but still alive," Alewyth promised him as she helped him from the cramped cell in which he'd been imprisoned since his capture.  Jorndell had at least argued against killing his cousin, but only because he'd convinced the wererats there might be a way to get some money off of him - he was a well-respected jeweler, after all.

The group returned to the room with the stolen goods and they maneuvered Jorndell's limp form onto Wakuren's heavy steel shield so they could carry him back to the ladder to the surface.  Then they'd help Kerndell bring his cousin to the Temple of Aerik to be cured of his lycanthropy - and just in time, too, for the full moon would be rising this very night.

"Sounds like you guys ought to be able to take it from here," Thurloe told Alewyth and Wakuren, seeing them off with Kerndell and his unconscious cousin.  "We'll catch up with you later!"

"What's going on?" Zander asked once the clerics had departed with the dwarven cousins.

"We're going back down there!" the fighter informed the other two.  "There's some good stuff in there among the stolen loot - no sense in it going to waste!  Xandro, you go get the mules and the wagon and bring 'em back here while Quilson and I start piling up the good stuff on the ledge by the ladder!"

"Alewyth and Wakuren aren't going to like this," Xandro pointed out.

"Yeah, well, that's why they're not here!" Thurloe replied.  "Now get going!"

- - -

In gratitude for helping him save his cousin, Kerndell Lapidarius agreed to carve runes onto dreamstones as indicated in the hand-drawn diagrams with which Thurloe provided him.  The gemcutter told the group they'd be ready in two days and refused to discuss any offers of payment.

And after this, having been the fifth adventure in my new "let's not track experience points" experimental campaign, we then proceeded to upgrade the PCs to 2nd level.  Joey tempted Fate by pointing out how sucky it would be to roll a "1" for his new hit points and then did just that, bringing Zander Quilson up from a 1st-level sorcerer with 4 hp to a 2nd-level sorcerer with 5 hp.  (Fate apparently doesn't like being mocked!)  Dan decided to have Thurloe continue on as a fighter; he'll pick up his wizard levels later (possibly much later) before becoming a spellsword, having decided this party could use a tough front-line fighter more than another spellcaster.  Logan had Wakuren add a level of paladin, and I realized I had originally misunderstood (or forgotten) his concept: he'll only be adding half of his paladin levels when determining Wakuren's clerical spellcasting level.  So now, as a Cleric 1/Paladin 1, Wakuren casts cleric spells as a 1st-level cleric; he'll cast cleric spells as a 2nd-level cleric at 3rd level (Clr2/Pal1), but then at 4th level (Clr2/Pal2) he'll cast cleric spells as a 3rd-level cleric.  All clear?  It took me a while to grasp the concept, too.

- - -

T-shirt worn: It was still the same gaming session as adventure #4, so I was still wearing my “Happy Happy Happy” T-shirt.


----------



## Richards (Jan 13, 2021)

*ADVENTURE 6: FOX HUNT*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 2​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 2​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 1/paladin 1​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 2​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 2​
Game Session Date: 9 January 2021

 - - -

The five adventurers stood in a forest clearing, the full moon shining down upon them.  Dark shapes loomed overhead on either side of them, ancient trees pooling shadows on the ground below their branches, leaving the dirt path standing out in the moonlight.

Suddenly, a man turned the corner on the path just ahead.  He wore the robes of a wizard and had a look of abject terror on his bearded face.  "Run!" he cried as he veered off on a side path before the fledgling heroes.  "It's coming!"

Thurloe stood in the front of the group's huddled formation, his bastard sword out and in a defensive position before him.  He heard a rustling in the woods to his left and then suddenly, appearing as if by magic before him on the moon-lit path, stood a fox.  It cocked its head as if surprised to see the heroes, then surged forward with remarkable speed - one moment it was a good twenty feet away and then the next it was leaping up at Thurloe and clamping its jaws around the startled fighter's throat.  Belatedly, Thurloe swung his sword at the fox but by then it had released its grip, dropped back to the forest path, and dashed off to the pool of shadows beneath the trees to Thurloe's left.

Xandro had his lute out and immediately began singing his most inspiring song, hoping to give the members of his team a much-needed boost of courage when fighting against such a supernatural foe.  He hung back a bit from the others, realizing his song was effective as long as the others could hear it, which meant he didn't need to be in the front lines.  Zander saw a blur of motion as the fox darted from one group of trees to another and cast a _magic missile_ spell at the swift form.  He thought he heard a faint, barely audible yelp of pain and surprise but couldn't swear it was more than his hopeful imagination.

Alewyth said the words to a _bless_ spell, granting the group Aerik's combat blessings, hopefully helping to protect them in the most direct fashion possible: by aiding them in defeating their enemy quickly.  The fox dashed by Wakuren and the half-orc scrambled to bring the bottom edge of his shield crashing down upon it, but his foe was too quick for him - and too quick for Thurloe's reflexes as well, for his bastard sword came slicing down on the space the fox had inhabited a fraction of a second before its jaws were clamped on the fighter's left arm, causing blood to run down his forearm.  In the span of a few heartbeats, Thurloe Pulver - perhaps the group's toughest member - had been brought down to staggering about and trying to remain standing upright.  And the fox had once again dashed off into a stand of trees, its reddish fur obscured by the deep shadows beneath the oaken branches.

Zander turned his head, straining to hear the fox among the undergrowth and hoping to be able to pinpoint its location.  In the meantime, Alewyth stepped up to Thurloe and cast a healing spell upon him.  Glad at receiving the dwarven cleric's healing, Thurloe opted to enhance it even further by drinking down one of his own healing potions, recently purchased from his gnomish supplier, Aenus Feysputter, when back in Port Duralia.  Wakuren, in the meantime, went sprinting off on his own, chasing after the fleeing wizard who had warned them of the fox's coming approach.  "You can help us to defeat this foe!" the half-orc called into the trees.  "Fight against it!"

In a blur of motion, the fox sprung out from a stand of trees and ripped Zander Quilson's throat out, dashing back to the safety of the shadows as the elven sorcerer fell to the ground, blood spilling down the front of his robes.  That was enough for Xandro to stop his song of courage; he put the lute back over his shoulder by its strap and pulled out his rapier; it seemed weapons would be more useful than any inspiration he might be able to give.  Alewyth gripped her own warhammer tightly, coming to the same conclusion.  They needed to kill this damned fox - and the sooner, the better!

Wakuren caught up to the panicked wizard.  "Why is this fox after you?" he asked.

"I've no idea!" gasped the mage, stopping to catch his breath, bending forward and supporting himself with his hands on his knees.  "It just came after me, out of nowhere!"

"We'll protect you," Wakuren promised, unaware that one of their number had already been slain.

But that number almost immediately rose to two, for the fox dashed out from beneath the undergrowth and ripped out Xandro's unprotected throat before he even had the time to raise his rapier in a defensive position.  He fell backwards, smashing the lute he'd no longer be able to play as he landed lifelessly on the forest path.  Alewyth was the next to fall, the fox leaping out from behind her and dropping her prone to the ground, where it snapped at the back of her neck and severed her spine, dashing off back into the trees before Thurloe could hit it with his bastard sword.  The fighter fell next, the fox exploding from the trees with a grin on its muzzle - as if enjoying taking these heroes down, one by one - to leap straight at him, twist in midair as Thurloe brought his sword to bear, dash away, and somehow get behind him before he could spin about to face his foe again.  The fox knocked Thurloe's feet out from beneath him and he landed hard on his back.  His throat was exposed for just a moment - but a moment was all the fox needed.

Wakuren and the unknown wizard stood side by side in a clearing when the fox ambled up, no longer needing to use its impressive speed, a bloody grin on its muzzle.  It faked to the half-orc's left, Wakuren held up his shield to ward off the attack, and then the fox was suddenly there at the cleric's right, snapping at his arm and dragging him to the ground.  Wakuren struggled to breathe as his throat was suddenly filled with blood, and then--

--Wakuren sat upright in bed, a scream strangled in his throat.  He was covered in a sheen of sweat and it felt like his heart was going to explode in his chest, but after a few moments of quiet, calming breaths and a repetition of a mantra the dream-guide moogle Mogo had taught him, he settled down enough to be able to lie his head back down on the pillow of his room at the inn and will himself back to sleep.

His personal moogle guide, *Kupek*, was there to meet him.  "How'd it go, kupo?" he asked Wakuren.

"Got myself killed," the half-orc grunted.

"Yeah, that happens sometimes, kupo," the moogle agreed and led the cleric back to meet up with the rest of his group in the dreamlands.  The rest of his team had each been met in the dreamlands by their personal moogle guide - Alewyth by *Calliope*, Thurloe by *Doc*, Xandro by *Mogchamp*, and Zander by *Moki* - and taken to Mogo, the moogle assigned by the Queen of Dreams to train them in dream manipulations.

"Well, that wasn't very impressive, but it hopefully taught you all two things: that dying in a dream doesn't really cause you any physical harm, and that there could be times when you might want to wake up at will on your own, right, kupo?  Let's work on that second point first, okay, kupo?"  The rest of the night's lessons consisted of the moogle training his proteges how to force themselves awake, then use the training they'd learned earlier to force themselves to fall back to sleep.  As a result, none of the five got a very good night's sleep that night, as it came in small chunks.  Their training ended with another session in the same dream in which they'd all been killed: it even started off in the same way, with the five heroes on the forest path and the frightened wizard warning them that "it" was coming and to flee.  He gave no indications of recognizing any of the heroes - and didn't even acknowledge the fact this time there was a bat-winged kitten hanging in the air beside them.

"See, kupo?" asked Mogo.  "The dream just starts over again each time - it's been about a month now, kupo!"  He gave a heavy sigh.  "It looks like we're going to need those dreamstones after all, kupo."

In the morning, Thurloe was awakened by a knock on the door to his room at the inn where they were staying.  He opened it to see one of the messenger boys who earned a bit of coin delivering letters around the city.  The lad held out a piece of folded parchment, sealed with a blob of wax.  "Got a message for you, if you're Thurloe Pulver," the boy said.

"I am - give it here," Thurloe demanded, reaching for the message.

"It's traditional to tip your messenger," the boy pointed out, holding out his other hand expectantly.  Thurloe well knew the lad had likely been paid by whoever sent the message, but he dropped a silver coin into his hand and snatched the message away before there could be any further argument.  The boy frowned at his meager reward but turned away, realizing that was all he was likely to get from the cheapskate.  Thurloe closed the door and looked at what had been brought to him.

The emblem embedded in the wax looked familiar, and it took the fighter a moment to recall where he'd seen it before: it was the Theringold family crest, the same one they'd found on the ring worn by Bertram Theringold, the poor sap who got his throat slit while trying to rescue his sister Teresa from the thieves guild who had kidnapped her and imprisoned her inside the scriptorium building.  He broke the seal, opened the letter, and read:



> I beg of you – please come to the Theringold estate at once.  I have immediate need of your services.  Please hurry – my brother's life is at stake!
> 
> Teresa Theringold




_Another brother in trouble?_ Thurloe thought to himself as he went outside to the hallway and pounded on the doors of the rooms his friends had taken.

Everyone gathered together in the fighter's room and read the letter.  "Could be a trap," Thurloe warned.

"That _is_ the Theringold crest," Xandro pointed out.  "Although..."  The bard rubbed his chin in silent thought.

"What?" Alewyth prompted.

"I don't recall for sure," Xandro admitted, "but I'm fairly certain Teresa only had the one brother, Bertram."  As a bard, Xandro made it a habit to learn as much as he could about the local nobility in whatever city he spent any amount of time in, and Port Duralia was no exception.

"The dead one."

"Yep," the bard replied to the ever-suspicious fighter.

"Let's go see what the story is," suggested Wakuren, and the group gathered up their armor and weapons and departed for the Theringold mansion.  Despite having learned the Theringolds were having some financial difficulties, none of that was evident in the appearance of the manor, which was in one of the higher-class sections of the city.  However, upon knocking upon the mansion's sturdy wooden double doors, it was somewhat telling that Teresa herself answered the door, not a servant - for the Theringolds had been forced to let all their servants go recently, not that that was common knowledge around town.

"Thank you all so much for coming so promptly," Teresa Theringold said, ushering the group inside and leading them to the library, where there were enough seats for them all to talk comfortably.  "You were so very helpful in rescuing me from those kidnappers, and bringing Bertram's body home after he'd been slain.  Now I must ask for your aid again, if you are willing to help me."

"What seems to be the problem?" asked Wakuren.

Teresa explained that despite the current state of her family's finances, she had managed to scrounge up 5,000 pieces of gold and used it to purchase fine diamonds, which *Father Bones*, the head cleric at the Temple of Akari, God of the Dead and Undead, had assured her was required to be able to raise her brother from the dead.  But there was a catch: he had to be raised soon, for there was a limit in how long after death a body could be restored to life.  His body was currently stored under the effects of a _gentle repose_ spell at the Temple of Akari, but she'd need to get the diamonds there in the next two days or it would be beyond the clerics' abilities to raise Bertram.

"I had finally managed to purchase enough diamonds last night," Teresa explained.  "I was going to bring them to Father Bones this morning - but when I awoke, they were gone!"

"Where were they kept?" Thurloe demanded.

"In my top dresser drawer, in my bedroom," Teresa explained.

"In your--?" the fighter spluttered, aghast at the carelessness and stupidity of aristocrats.  But Wakuren put a warning hand on the fighter's shoulder and addressed Teresa.  "Perhaps you can show us?" he suggested.

"Certainly," agreed the young noblewoman, leading them to the back half of the manor house where her bedroom sat, sandwiched between those of her late brother and her father.  While Alewyth examined the stonework of the outer wall and Zander made himself busy searching for possible secret doors, Teresa explained further.  "I turned to you because my father has forbidden me from alerting the city guard of the theft - he doesn't want our current situation to be made public knowledge.  But I thought I could reach out to you, as you already know about our current financial difficulties."

"Who knew you had the diamonds here?" queried Thurloe.

"No one, not even my father," Teresa replied.

"Well, the Temple of Akari knew you were raising the money to have your brother raised, so they could have suspected you'd have the money on hand," Thurloe theorized.  "They could have sent someone to burglarize your bedroom last night...."

"What's this?" called out Wakuren suddenly.  He'd been searching Teresa's dresser drawers and was holding up what looked to be a playing card.  But instead of any of the traditional cards of a standard deck, this one had what looked to be a paw print drawn on it in black ink.

"Let me see that," Xandro asked.  Wakuren handed it over.  "I found it in her top drawer, where she said she had kept the diamonds overnight," the half-orc explained.

"What's it mean?" Alewyth asked.

"It's the paw print of a fox," Xandro explained.  "This is a calling card - these have been left at the sites of burglaries all around the city, usually among the nobility," he added.  "They call the thief 'The Fox,' but nobody knows what he looks like.  He's never been spotted, let alone caught."

"The Fox, huh?" replied Thurloe.  "You think this has anything to do with that fox we fought in the dreamscape?  Maybe he takes human form or something."

"That seems unlikely," Zander contributed.

"It's a theory I'm still working out," replied Thurloe.  "Lemme think on this some more."

"Well, somebody - presumably this Fox character - snuck in here and stole the diamonds, that much is obvious," reiterated Wakuren.  "The question is: why here?  And why now?  Was this random, or is someone out to harm your family?"

"Does your father have any enemies?" suggested Zander.

"Well, my father's never been the most pleasant person to deal with," admitted Teresa.  "And he's been increasingly stressed out of late.  He seemed in something of a panic this morning: jumpy and jittery, looking all around him as if for enemies.  I imagine he's worried that somebody got into the house - what with my own recent kidnapping, he's likely worried someone will do the same to him.  But actual enemies?  None that I can think of.  Just a few people at his club he managed to get mad at him."

"Where is he now?" demanded Thurloe.

"At his club," Teresa replied.  "He spends quite a lot of time there - too much, if you ask me, because he gambles a lot there and that's been the cause of our change in fortune."  She looked down, embarrassed to have admitted this to mere adventurers, but knowing that providing them with everything that might have any bearing on the theft might be necessary for her to recover the stolen diamonds in time.  "He had run up quite a gambling debt there, but I think he's made good with all of his debts thus far."

"Where is this club?" asked Xandro.

"It's the Black Eagle - it's within walking distance, but it's for members of the nobility only.  Men only, though; I wouldn't even be allowed in."

"No, but they might let an enterprising young bard in who was angling for a job as a musician," Xandro guessed.  "Let's go!"

The group set off, leaving Teresa behind; she didn't want to run into her father at the club and have him raise any questions about her presence there.  Fortunately, he'd never met the adventurers when they brought Bertram's body back from the alleyway outside the scriptorium where he'd been slain.  They approached the building, saw a fine-dressed doorman standing outside and realized he'd never let the likes of them in, so they skirted around the building to find a back door.  There was one - there would almost have to be one, Xandro realized, to allow for deliveries and the like, as well as a means for the workers to arrive without getting in the way of the aristocracy.  He knocked loudly on the door.  Wakuren, on a sudden impulse, activated his _ring of invisibility_ and disappeared before the employee manager opened the door and asked the group their business.

"I was wondering if you might be hiring musicians," Xandro said, giving the manager his best smile and pulling the lute from his back.

The manager thought it over.  "Well, we are a man short today," he admitted.  "Tell you what: we'll try you out on a provisional basis.  You go on in and play quietly in the background.  No singing, though: the noblemen don't want to be disturbed at their business with a bunch of tawdry tavern songs!"

"Very well," agreed Xandro, and was ushered through the door into the lounge.  Unseen, Wakuren snuck in behind him before the door closed.  As Xandro headed east to the roaring fireplace, playing a quiet tune upon his lute, Wakuren went the opposite direction, over by the bar where he could stand in the corner and hopefully not get bumped into by anyone.  They were both well aware that at the table in the middle of the room, one of about four, sat none other than *Berthold Theringold*, playing cards with another nobleman.  The dark scowl on his face told he wasn't having much luck at the game.  Both listened intently to hear what they could of any discussions; maybe they'd pick up something worthwhile.

Thurloe, however, was ready for a more direct approach.  "I understand Lord Theringold is a member of this club," he said to the employee manager.

"That is correct."

"We've done some work for him in the past," the fighter admitted, not bothering to go into details.  "He's quite the character."  He smiled and shook his head, as if in disbelief.  "Is he as bad at cards as I've heard he is?"

Jumping at the chance to engage in some gossip about the members of the upper class, the manager led the three heroes into a side room - a storage closet, where they could talk more privately.  "You don't know the half of it!" he smirked.  He's lost quite a considerable sum to *Lord Baskindale* over the past several weeks.  He finally threatened to have Theringold barred from the club if he didn't pay up what he owed, and he finally did that just recently."

"You'd almost be forgiven for assuming he wasn't a noble at all!" Zander suggested.

"I know!  Have you seen the state of his clothing?  His clothes haven't been pressed in some time, and he's gotten stingy in his food and drink purchases here at the club - almost like he's suddenly become hard-pressed for money.  There's even a rumor," the manager said, his voice dropping down to a mere whisper, "that Lord Theringold has been spotted at a lesser gaming establishment, open to commoners!  It seems he's become somewhat desperate of late to gather up some extra coin!  In fact--" but then the manager caught himself, as if wondering whether spreading gossip about the members of the club for which he worked was in his best interests.

Thurloe saw his hesitation and reached into his coin purse, holding out five gold pieces.  "I'm really interested in hearing what you were going to say," he told the manager.  "Please, this has been most interesting - I'd be willing to pay you to hear more."

The manager snatched up the proffered coins and had them tucked away in the pocket of his jacket in a well-practiced move, continuing on with his gossip as if he hadn't interrupted himself.  "Word is that Lord Theringold lost several thousand pieces of gold to *Lady Arabella Vulpina* at that very establishment just yesterday!  She's every bit as good at cards as Lord Theringold believes himself to be - why, if the Black Eagle allowed women members, she'd likely clean up in here, or that's what I've been told.  But in any case, there was a bit of a scene when he decided he'd finally had enough and didn't have the cash on hand to pay what he had wagered.  She chewed him out but good, and he promised her he was good for the money, but it didn't look like she was very impressed with his promises."

Xandro returned to the employee back area soon thereafter, his lute back in place over his shoulder.  Wakuren, seeing the bard head for the door to the back area, quietly approached behind him and slid through the open door as well.  "I'm afraid I broke a string," the bard apologized to the employee manager.  "Another day, perhaps."  The group went back outside the Black Eagle Gentlemen's Club and compared notes.  "Sounds like the Vulpina Estate is next on our list," Xandro said.  "I know where it is - it isn't far.  Lady Arabella lives there with her parents."

"Let's swing by and fetch Lady Teresa," suggested Alewyth.  "We might do better with her with us.  They'll be more likely to let us enter the mansion if we have a noblewoman with us."

Twenty minutes later, the group of six was knocking upon the front doors of the Vulpina Estate.  "'Vulpina' means 'foxlike,'" pointed out Zander.  "I'm just saying."

Before anyone could respond, the doors opened and a servant stood there, asking them their business.  They asked for an audience with Lady Arabella if she was available, and the servant ushered them into the library to wait.  This library was easily twice the size of the one in the Theringold manor, and the books here were all top quality volumes (whereas Berthold Theringold purchased his books in quantity, not quality - he was more interested in having shelves of books visible in his home than actually reading any of them).  A maid brought in a tray of fruit, cheeses, and tea and said Lady Arabella would be there shortly.

"You think Lord Vulpina's the Fox?" asked Thurloe once they were alone again in the library.

"No reason it has to be the father," pointed out Alewyth.  "If nobody's seen the Fox, they couldn't say if it was a man or a woman.  For all we know, Lady Arabella herself--" she stopped herself in mid-sentence as the library doors opened and Lady Arabella Vulpina stepped into the room.  She was a young woman in her mid-twenties, perhaps a half decade or so older than Teresa, with a striking head of red hair.  She wore an elegant gown and took a seat at one end of the table.

"How may I help you?" she asked, looking around the table at her visitors.  She focused on Lady Teresa, who made the introductions, and who let on that the adventurers were her personal bodyguards.  Lady Arabella was silent throughout the introductions, but once they were done she got straight to the point and asked, "Are you here about the money your father owes me?"  Her face was flushed at the memories of what she considered to be boorish behavior: gambling without being able to immediately pay his losses.  To her credit, she allowed Teresa to tell her full story, about her recent abduction, her brother's death in trying to rescue her, the group now serving as her bodyguards having rescued her, the theft of the diamonds she had collected to have her brother restored to life, and the time limit before the _raise dead_ spell would no longer be a viable option.

"How much were the diamonds worth?" asked Lady Arabella.  Upon being given the figure, her eyes flashed in anger.  "You mean Lord Theringold had five thousand pieces of gold in diamonds and refused to pay me the three thousand he owes me?"

"No, I had the diamonds," corrected Teresa.  "He didn't know I had purchased them.  I used my own money, selling some of my own possessions."

"And why are you here, then?  I am sorry to hear about your brother, but do you expect me to pay for the return to life of the son of the man who has swindled me?"

"Oh, no, not at all!" assured Teresa.  "I just thought...we were looking into who might...."  Her voice gave out, clearly embarrassed to be seeming to accuse Lady Arabella of any wrongdoing.

Xandro came to her assistance.  He pulled out the fox print card that had been left behind in Teresa's dresser drawer.  "This was left in place of the diamonds," the bard explained.

"And?" prompted Lady Arabella.  "Are you insinuating there's some connection between that card and my family?"  A dawning look of comprehension crossed her face.  "Ah!  'The Fox,' is it?"  She stared at Xandro, the fierceness of her gaze seeming to bore a hole through him.  "If you are implying this 'Fox' is in any way associated with the Vulpina family, I do hope you have some proof to back up your baseless accusations, because that kind of scurrilous talk against a noble family could quite easily land a person like you in jail!"

Xandro quickly placed the card back into his belt pouch.  "No, my lady - nothing like that," he hastily assured her.

However, a smirk crossed Lady Arabella's face.  "However," she said, "all this talk of cards has given me an idea.  We'll let Fate decide."  She rang a bell sitting on an end table and a maid entered the room.  "Bring me a deck of cards," she told the servant, who nodded her head and hurried off to comply.  Upon her return, Lady Arabella handed the deck to Xandro.  "Please: shuffle it and cut the deck."

"What are you proposing?" the bard asked as he did as she requested.

"One round of cards, between Lady Teresa and myself.  If she wins, I will forgive the money her father owes her, and pay for her brother's restoration to life as well."  Teresa's eyes lit up at the offer.

"And if you win?" asked Teresa.  She was no gambler, although she knew the basics of a number of card games.

Lady Arabella smirked all the harder.  "Should I win, I shall want your bodyguards to picket outside the Black Eagle Gentlemen's Club - naked - carrying signs stating 'Lord Berthold Theringold is a welcher.'"

"That'll likely get us arrested!" pointed out Alewyth.

"I'm not stripping down naked for anyone!" Thurloe announced.  "I'm not part of this bet!"

Wakuren silently removed the _ring of invisibility_ from his hand and palmed it, passing it over to Thurloe in the act of shaking his hand.  "Then maybe you had best wait for us outside," he suggested.  Thurloe felt the ring and immediately guessed the half-orc cleric's intentions: that he wear the ring and observe the hand of cards without Lady Arabella aware of his presence.  He thought the cleric of Cal might have been suggesting he use his invisibility as a means of reading Lady Arabella's hand of cards and somehow passing that information to Lady Teresa without being detected, but he wasn't sure how exactly he was going to do that - it would have been nice if they had had time to plan this all out ahead of time!  But he found himself being ushered outside by a butler and just barely had time to activate the ring when the man's back was turned and sneak back in through the door before it closed.  Then the fighter waited for the butler to leave the entry hallway and go about his duties before he tiptoed back over to the library, glad for the sound-dampening carpet in the room.

By then, the other four heroes had convinced Teresa to take the bet.  She didn't like the fact that they were taking all of the risks, but it warred with her obvious desire to be able to have her brother raised from the dead.  "Go ahead," pleaded Alewyth.  "We'll all be watching, to make sure there isn't any funny business."  If Lady Arabella took offense at the suggestion she might somehow try to cheat, she didn't let it show on her face.

"All right," Teresa said.

Everyone leaned forward as Lady Arabella dealt out a hand of cards to the two noblewomen.  Wakuren had been studying Lady Arabella and had a good feeling about her; it was hard to put his finger on it exactly, but she somehow seemed to be like one of them...sure, she was a member of the nobility, but she seemed more down-to-earth than some of the stuffed shirts in the upper classes.  Much like Lady Teresa, the Vulpina daughter seemed like she was okay.

Alewyth had been studying Lady Arabella closely, but with a different purpose in mind: she wanted to make sure she wasn't doing anything with the cards as she dealt them out.  The cleric frowned; it had almost looked like Lady Arabella had done some fancy finger-work when dealing.  Had she pulled a card from other than the top of the deck while dealing?  It was hard to tell for sure.  Belatedly, the dwarven cleric wished she knew more about card games; such things weren't really part of a hard-working dwarf's background.

But any worry Alewyth had about any sleight of hand shenanigans the noblewoman dealer might have tried to pull were unfounded; flipping over their cards, Lady Teresa had easily won the hand.  "Very well," Lady Arabella replied, if anything smirking all the harder.  "Congratulations, Lady Teresa.  You have won, but I have bought with my money a quite vivid and amusing mental image.  I will have the monies delivered to your family's estate this very afternoon - and you will find the Vulpina family pays its debts."  With that, she stood, an indication that the visitation was over.  A servant escorted the group back to the front door, an invisible Thurloe following behind.

"Whew!" sighed Teresa Theringold upon standing back outside on the street.  "I'm glad that's over!  Could I prevail upon you to wait with me for the delivery, and then escort me to the jewelers and the Temple of Akari?  I'd hate for anything to happen to the money in the meantime!"  Wakuren assured her that they'd be happy to help her.

While waiting in the much less impressive Theringold library, the six made small talk among themselves and found out Teresa had gone to Kerndell Lapidarius to purchase the diamonds that had been stolen.  "I wonder if that idiot Jorndell is involved in this somehow?" Thurloe mused aloud.

"You like throwing accusations all over the place, don't you?" asked Zander.  But then, before the fighter could answer, the elf asked, "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"I thought I heard something.  A door opening."  He turned to Teresa.  "We're here alone, aren't we?"

"Yes," Teresa relied, looking frightened - understandable, given she'd been kidnapped not too long ago.

Thurloe pulled the bastard sword out from its scabbard on his back and advanced down the hallway to the west, where Zander said he'd heard the noise.  There was another hallway perpendicular to the one leading from the library, with the southern end of that one leading to the front doors.  Thurloe verified they were still both closed and locked, as Xandro exited the library, his lute out and ready to support his magic.

A door straight ahead - which according to Teresa led to the kitchen area and a side door to the manor house - suddenly opened and a pair of dark forms stepped forward, each holding a shortbow at the ready.  They matched gazes with Thurloe and Xandro and the two heroes identified them immediately as kenku, just like the pair of thieves they'd fought in the basement level of Sandoval's Scriptorium.  (They didn't realize it yet, but this pair was indeed the two kenku whose lair nests the heroes had plundered after slaying the other two kenku and their mongrelmen associates.)

Xandro ducked back around a corner and began playing an inspiring tune upon his lute, as the kenku both fired their shortbows at Thurloe.  The fighter tried to dodge, but the arrows went whizzing by, slicing lines of blood across his left arm as they passed.  Worse, the heads had been envenomed, but the fighter was able to shake off whatever effects the poisoned arrows might have had.

Hearing sounds of combat, Wakuren activated the _ring of invisibility_ - Thurloe had returned it after they had left the Vulpina estate - and strode down the hall.  Zander popped his head out of the library doorway, saw the kenku pair, and fired off a _magic missile_ spell at one of the dark-feathered bird-men.  Then two more figures approached, a man and a woman, both wearing black combat leathers and wielding short swords in their hands.  "What the Hell?" complained the male rogue, seeing the heroes assembled before him.  "Theringold's hired bodyguards now, has he?  Bad enough he sold us his daughter and then had her stolen back from us somehow, now he's trying to keep us from what's rightfully ours?"

"We'll add him to our list," promised his female counterpart.  "Let's take these hirelings out, get the girl back, and then we can deal with him!"

Alewyth had been in the middle of casting a _bless_ spell upon her team when she heard the rogues' chatter.  A look of fury crossed her dwarven features and she practically snarled in rage.  Her warhammer gripped in one fist, she stormed forward, ready to deal some serious damage to these kidnapping thieves.  But Thurloe was there before she was, swinging his bastard sword for all it was worth.  The male thief ducked back beneath the swing, though, the blade passing by him and leaving him unharmed.  Thurloe swore in irritation.

Both kenku fired their bows again, this time aiming at Alewyth and Zander.  Of the two, the one striking Zander was a slightly better aim, hitting the sorcerer squarely in the shoulder and getting the venom coated liberally on the arrowhead well within his system.  A combination of a slightly less centered hit and the cleric's rugged dwarven constitution ensured the venom did nothing to hinder Alewyth's steady progress down the hallway, her eyes blazing in fury.

Wakuren cast an _obscuring mist_ spell centered in the area where the two perpendicular hallways met, then stepped into the edge of the spell's area of effect.  He wasn't concerned that the mist would give away his location; although he was invisible and thus was forming a humanoid shaped "gap" in the swirling mists, anyone looking at him would see straight through his invisible body and the mists on the other side of him, effectively shielding him.  He was pleased with his strategy, for now the archers couldn't fire their arrows at anyone, not being able to see their targets.

Of course, this meant Zander couldn't see _his_ targets either, but he took a moment to pull the arrow from his shoulder first in any case, grimacing in pain as he did so.  Then, unable to do much else at the moment, he cast a _mage armor_ spell upon himself, hoping the protective spell would shield him from any further arrows that might end up heading his way.  Thus girded, the sorcerer braved the mists ahead.

The human rogues inched forward cautiously in the thick fog, both catching sight of Thurloe when they were almost upon him and stabbing out straight with their blades.  Thurloe grunted in pain as their attacks pierced through his armor and he counterattacked the male rogue.  Hitting only air with his strike - the nimble bugger had ducked back in time again! - he backed up around the corner, headed north, directly away from the front doors.  Off to his left, Alewyth advanced, her warhammer ready to strike as soon as she could find a target, for her innate darkvision wasn't able to pierce the _obscuring mist_ spell any better than could the eyesight of a human.

Xandro continued playing his tune upon his lute, the bardic magic aiding his companions in their combat efforts.  The kenku advanced slowly through the dark mists, one of them obliviously passing right beside Wakuren.  The half-orc raised his shield and brought it crashing down upon the avian rogue, the attack undoing his invisibility but well worth it, Wakuren thought.  The other kenku advanced until he and Alewyth almost ran into each other; both attacked immediately but Alewyth's warhammer caught the kenku a second before his own blade could stab out at her, for in the dark mists the avian rogues had both realized their shortbows were all but useless.  Wakuren spun about and brought his shield crashing down upon the first kenku's head, staggering him where he stood.

Both of the human rogues stepped forward, side by side, their blades slashing out at Thurloe now that they knew where he was.  The numerous cuts were starting to take their toll, blood now dripped from several wounds the fighter had taken and he could feel his strength starting to wane.  He backed up further, suddenly finding himself completely out of the radius of the _obscuring mist_ spell.  Hurriedly, he fumbled at a healing potion from his belt and guzzled it down while the rogues were still stepping cautiously forward, unsure yet of exactly where the spell's effects ended.

Alewyth slammed the kenku before her again with her warhammer, enjoying the solid connection of her metal weapon against the bird-man's feathers, flesh, and bone.  Beside her, Xandro stepped forward, his lute now swapped out for his rapier, trusting in the ongoing effects his bardic music would sustain for a bit longer even after he had stopped playing.  He found the male rogue and thrust the point of his weapon into the leather-clad kidnapper's body until it exited from the other side; when he pulled it back out, the man fell to the floor, dead.

The kenku backed furiously away from the crazy dwarven woman before him, stepping deeper into the obscuring vapors and making a bee-line for where he believed the front doors to be.  But he ended up right next to Wakuren, and the half-orc brought his shield down upon this kenku's head in the same fashion as he'd done to his partner.  Zander, hearing the commotion in the darkness of the spell's effects, started cautiously heading that way as well.

The female rogue stepped out of the _obscuring mist_, saw Thurloe before her, and charged him.  Despite having healed some of his earlier wounds by drinking down a potion, her newest attack sent the burly fighter falling backwards, unconscious and bleeding out, the hilt of his bastard sword spilling from his unfeeling fingers.  Afraid of allowing any of the other heroes to get the drop on her, she spun in place and faced the swirling mists blocking the rest of the hallway before her, ready to attack any who might follow her back into an area of full visibility.  As it turned out it was a good call, for Alewyth came stomping out of the mist, warhammer in hand, and headed her way.  The rogue charged at the dwarven cleric and their weapons came striking out at each other, but at the end of the encounter Alewyth had gained a new cut in her side - easily healed - while the rogue had taken the worst of the deal, barely managing to stay on her feet.  Zander stepped out of the mist behind Alewyth and finished the rogue off with a _magic missile_ spell.

Xandro stabbed at a kenku he had nearly bumped into while searching for enemies inside the _obscuring mist_.  And then, in the midst of battle, there was an incongruous knock upon the front door.  The kenku raced towards the sound of the knock - for it indicated the way to freedom - but Wakuren caught up with him and brought him down with another smash of his shield.  Then he opened the door, dark mists spilling out of the doorway as he saw a liveried servant standing before him, holding a small box.  "I have a package for Lady Teresa Theringold," he announced.

"I'll send her right out," Wakuren promised.  "Please wait here - we're in the middle of something."  Then he closed the door and started feeling his way down the hallway, finding his way back to the library.  "Anybody still in combat?" he called out, for he couldn't hear the clash of weapons anymore.  After hearing that the four rogues had all been slain, he escorted Teresa out of the library and over to the front door, steering her around the dead bodies in the hallway.  As expected, the package was from Lady Arabella, which included a note explaining she'd opted to pay her in diamonds, knowing that was Lady Teresa's final intentions.  She thanked the servant and sent him on his way.

By then, the _obscuring mist_ spell had run its course and the group told the young noblewoman what they'd learned: that she hadn't been kidnapped, her father had actually sold her to the rogues in a desperate bid for money to pay off his gambling debts.  "I don't think you're safe here any more," Alewyth advised.  Zander ran back to fetch the mules and wagon while the others helped Lady Teresa pack up her meager belongings.  Then, her bags of clothing loaded onto the wagon, the group took her to the Temple of Akari to have her brother raised.

Father Bones himself presided over the ceremony.  He was a strange figure: a walking skeleton wearing black robes and a black top hat.  Word was he was a lich, a type of undead spellcaster who continued serving his god after his own mortal life had come to an end.  He accepted the pouch of diamonds and had several of his clerics wheel the preserved corpse of Bertram Theringold out on a cart.

"My Lord Akari does not idly allow the dead to return to the lands of the living," Father Bones intoned.  "Two deaths in exchange for one life - that is the tally He demands in this case."  He nodded off to the side and two prisoners were escorted forward, each wearing shackles and leg-irons.  They stared fearfully at Father Bones as he lifted a black-bladed sacrificial knife from the proffering tray held by one of his clerical subordinates.  With a practiced efficiency, Father Bones slew the prisoners, who slumped to the ground.  Almost at once, Bertram's wrist started flickering with movement and he soon after sat up, dazed at his current surroundings.  Teresa ran up to her brother's side, hugging the one family member willing to risk his life to see to her safety - as opposed to sell her off to pay his gambling debts.

Father Bones nodded to the small group who had assembled and stepped back inside the temple.  His aides followed.

"You did a good thing here today," said a voice behind them.  Turning, the heroes saw none other than Lady Arabella Vulpina, dressed all in black and raising a veil from her face.  "I will keep your names in mind should I ever find myself in need of capable adventurers.  In the meantime, please accept these as retainers."  She passed over a series of small envelopes, smiled a farewell,  and walked away.  Opening them, the heroes saw each contained a small gem valued at a thousand pieces of gold.

"What are we going to do about Lord Theringold?" asked Zander.

"Us?  Nothing," replied Xandro.  "We're not nobles.  We can't go accusing a nobleman of selling his daughter into slavery, especially without any proof but the word of a member of a thieves guild.  But don't worry, I'm sure things will take care of themselves."  The bard looked over at the adult Theringold children and the looks of astonishment and then burning anger crossing the face of Bertram.

 - - -

Eventually, Teresa was brought to Kerndell Lapidarius and the dwarven gemcutter agreed to hire her on as an assistant housekeeper, under the tutelage of Mrs. Applegate.

We had enough time to squeeze in a second adventure during this game session (knowing full well this was it for our group until May or June), so we pressed on immediately with the next one.

 - - -

T-shirt worn: My blue shirt that reads, "Dad: cleverly disguised as a responsible adult."  I picked it for several reasons: Teresa's dad played a prominent role in this adventure, plus there's the whole "disguised" aspect of the notorious thief, "the Fox."


----------



## Richards (Jan 21, 2021)

*ADVENTURE 7: WITH MINIMAL DANGER*

PC Roster:  Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 2
            Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 2
            Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 1/paladin 1
            Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 2
            Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 2​
Game Session Date: 9 January 2021

 - - -

The five adventurers stood in a forest clearing, the full moon shining down upon them.  Dark shapes loomed overhead on either side of them, ancient trees pooling shadows on the ground below their branches, leaving the dirt path standing out in the moonlight.

Suddenly, a man turned the corner on the path just ahead.  He wore the robes of a wizard and had a look of abject terror on his bearded face.  "Run!" he cried as he veered off on a side path before the fledgling heroes.  "It's coming!"

To the five adventurers, this was an almost identical repeat of the dream sequence they'd been in earlier, but the frightened wizard seemed to have no recollection at all of ever having seen them before, nor did he pay any attention to the moogle fluttering beside Thurloe's shoulder.  In a panicked frenzy, the wizard darted off along a path to the group's right, just as the dream fox came popping out of the forest undergrowth ahead at such a speed as if suddenly appearing by magic.

"It's the same thing, over and over again, kupo," observed Mogo as the dream fox tilted its head curiously - it, too, apparently had no recollection of meeting up with the group of dream explorers before.  "You can try killing him again, but it won't do any good - the dream just always starts over, kupo.  But now that the dreamstones have been carved and are ready to go, if you show up at the side of the sleeping wizard having this dream and enter the dream from there, you'll have a much better chance of waking him, kupo!"  Quick as a wink, the fox darted forward and snapped at Thurloe's unprotected neck; the fighter swung his bastard sword at the beast but it had already dashed off to the forest shadows beneath the overhanging branches to the fighter's left.

Mogo waved a paw and the dreamscape vanished, to be replaced by a richly-furnished study.  The moogle indicated a map on the table before them.  "Here's where he's located, kupo," Mogo said, indicating a point on the map in the mountains several days north of Port Duralia.  He then explained how the group should approach the dreamer and enter his dream: by placing a dreamstone upon the sleeping wizard's forehead to help him focus and then surround the dreamer on all sides, in a circle, with each of the adventurers holding a dreamstone in his or her hands to help focus their own power over the dreamscape.  "That ought to give you enough of an edge to slay the dream fox, hopefully for good, kupo!" Mogo informed them.

As to what they'd try next if that failed to wake the wizard, Mogo was silent - hopefully the plan would work as envisioned.

Upon awakening in the morning, the group saddled up their horses and hitched the two mules to the wagon, then headed off to the north with their provisions and gear.  Thurloe spent a good part of the time sitting in the back of the wagon reading through the beginner's spellbook his arcane instructor had left with him, practicing the hand gestures needed to cast the most basics of cantrips.  It soon became apparent to the young fighter that mastering spellcraft was going to be as difficult, if not more so, than mastering the use of his bastard sword.

The three days passed by rather uneventfully - save for a curious dire badger poking about looking for food on the second night's camping out - and in the late afternoon of the third day the group saw a stone structure ahead on the mountain pass they'd taken, the building long and low for most of its length save for a two-story tower off to the right.  Two sets of double doors to the far left hinted at stables and possibly wagon storage or the like, but the front door was right in the middle of the structure.  Glad to be done with traveling for now and eager to put her dreamwalker training to good use, Alewyth strode boldly to the front door and pounded upon it with her fist.  It took nearly a minute before the door was opened, revealing a rather rotund halfling dressed in a butler's finery.  "May I help you?" he asked.

"It's possible we may be able to help you - or rather, the wizard who dwells here.  Has your master been in a state of sleep for the better part of a month, by any chance?"

The butler gasped, surprised at the dwarf's knowledge.  "Why--why, yes," he exclaimed.  "How ever did you know?"

"It's been happening all across the continent," Alewyth explained as the butler stepped back and bid them to enter.  "We've been sent to try to free the dreamers from their sleep."

"Have you had any success?" asked the butler, one *Humberto Bugcatcher* who went by the nickname *"Humbug"*.

"Not yet - but this is our first case," Alewyth informed him.

Humbug led the group down a hallway, into a small library, and from there into a bedroom, in which slept a bearded human the adventurers immediately recognized as the wizard being chased by the dream fox they had met up with several times already in the Dreamlands.  "My master, the wizard *Grimboldt*," Humbug announced.

"We should pull the bed into the middle of the room," suggested Wakuren, grabbing the foot of the bed.  Thurloe took the head of the bed and they did just that.  Alewyth opened the bag of dreamstones and pulled one out, placing it onto the center of Grimboldt's forehead.  The wizard whined in a low tone, frightened of something he was experiencing in his dream - but being constantly stalked by a vicious fox for four weeks was likely to do that to you.  Fearful that his movements might dislodge the stone from his head, Alewyth wrapped a piece of cloth around his temple like a headband, binding the dreamstone in place.  She then passed a gem to each of the four men beside her.

"What should I do?" asked Humbug, looking nervously around at the five strangers who had showed up out of the blue and were apparently about to work some magic on his employer.  He belatedly began worrying that he only had their word they were trying to aid Grimboldt - perhaps he shouldn't have let them into the manor so quickly, as that half-orc looked particularly fearsome.

"You can make sure nobody bothers us," Thurloe replied, as the five strangers each took a seat around the bed, sitting around it at the five points of a star.  They had their eyes closed and looked as if they were meditating.

"Very well," answered Humbug, closing the bedroom door behind him as he stepped back into the library.  He supposed this ritual - or whatever it was - would take a bit of time to complete; perhaps he should use that time cleaning up the mess in the master's arcane laboratory.  After all, four weeks with a comatose master had given him plenty of time to root around in the wizard's lab, experimenting with his various arcane items of power....

One by one, the adventurers succumbed to sleep, their training coming into play.  As each entered the Dreamlands, he or she was met by their assigned moogle guide, who led them to Mogo.  "Is everybody ready, kupo?" he asked, standing in a hallway of doors and opening one door in particular ushering them in.  "Good luck, kupo!"

The five adventurers stepped through the doorway and into a forest clearing, the full moon shining down upon them.  Not surprisingly, dark shapes loomed overhead on either side of them, ancient trees pooling shadows on the ground below their branches, leaving the dirt path standing out in the moonlight.

On cue, Grimboldt turned the corner on the path just ahead.  He wore the robes of a wizard and had a look of abject terror on his bearded face.  "Run!" he cried as he veered off on a side path before the fledgling heroes.  "It's coming!"

The heroes already had their weapons out and spells at the ready, but even here in Grimboldt's recurring dream they each also wielded the dreamstone they held back on the Material Plane in their hands.  They held these stones up as protective wards when the dream fox made its sudden appearance on the path before them.

Once again, it cocked its head in puzzlement at the sudden arrival of these strangers, but this time it was more than just their unexpected intrusion into the dream; it was also the strange sluggishness that was passing over its body.  Without any discernable source, the strength seemed to drain from its limbs, its unnatural quickness depleted somehow, leaving it hardly any faster or stronger than a normal fox of its size.  Soundlessly, it shook its head as if trying to dissipate the weakness by waking up from a dream of its own, but the attempt was fruitless.

While it was puzzling out its new state of being, Thurloe dashed forward - he was now about as quick as the fox - and sent his bastard sword crashing down upon its fur-covered body, the blade drawing a line of red pain across its back and side.  It yelped and dashed off into the undergrowth, giving Alewyth the time to cast a _bless_ spell upon the group.  "We got first blood this time," she pointed out.  "Surely that's a good sign!"

The fox dashed out at the heroes again, noticeably much slower than in previous visits to this particular dream, and Zander was ready with a _magic missile_ spell that struck it in its vulpine muzzle.  Xandro stabbed forward with his rapier, piercing its shoulder as Wakuren cast a _doom_ spell upon their foe.  He wasn't sure exactly how the fox had kept Grimboldt imprisoned here in his own nightmare for a month, but so far things were looking like they'd be able to defeat the fox in combat without any difficulties.  This belief of the half-orc cleric's was only reinforced when the fox snapped its jaws at Thurloe and the fighter managed to successfully dodge out of the way.  _That certainly beat having your throat ripped out!_ the fighter thought to himself as he brought his bastard sword crashing down upon the fox for a second time.

Alewyth attacked the creature with her warhammer, but the bedraggled beast managed to avoid her blow.  There was no dodging another _magic missile_ spell from Zander, however, although the fox just barely avoided subsequent attacks from Wakuren's shield and Xandros' rapier.  In a sudden panic, the fox looked all about him for a way out of this fight, dashing at its best current speed past its attackers in an attempt to hunt down Grimboldt, its original target.  It snapped at Zander when he cast a third _magic missile_ spell at him, the time it took for the fox to do so allowing Alewyth's hammer and Thurloe's sword to deal additional harm to the beast.  Seemingly on its last legs, it leaped up at Zander as if determined to bring at least one of these heroes down with it before it fell, but the elf was still on his feet - if wobbling somewhat - when Alewyth's warhammer crushed the fox's skull, slaying it at long last.

Everyone immediately assumed a defensive position, looking about to see if the dream would reset again as it had in the past.  Thurloe looked ahead at the path, half expecting Grimboldt to run towards him warning that "it" was coming.  But instead, the moonlight intensified as one by one the trees of the forest started fading away to nothingness.  Then the stars started going out as the rest of the dreamscape surrounding them vanished, leaving the heroes standing once again in a hallway filled with doors as far as the eye could see.  "Great job, kupo!" Mogo said in uncommon praise.

The heroes each put one of their latest lessons to good use and concentrated on waking themselves up.  One by one, they snapped awake, finding themselves back in Grimboldt's bedroom, where a rather puzzled-looking wizard sat up in bed, looking at them.  "You were there," he said.  "I saw you, in my dream!"

"That was quite a dream, too," Wakuren agreed, standing up and making the introductions as the others joined them in wakefulness.  The bedroom door opened and there was Humbug, alerted by the unmistakable sound of his master's voice.  "You're awake!" he gasped in surprise.  These strangers had done exactly as they had said they would.

"Humbug: make preparations!" Grimboldt exclaimed.  "We're having guests over for dinner!"

Over dinner, Wakuren described the sleeping sickness beginning to spread across the land and how they had been recruited to try to put a stop to it.  Grimboldt exclaimed once again, "I cannot thank you enough!"  But over the course of the meal - which was quite excellent, considering Humbug had had little advance notice that not only would his master be awakened but they'd have five additional guests - it became quite evident the wizard was exhausted by his ordeals.  "I know it doesn't make a whole lot of sense," he admitted, "but despite having been asleep for the better part of a month, I'm wiped out!"

"It makes perfect sense," Alewyth replied.  "Being hunted by a dream fox does not make for restful sleep at all."

"I will have Humbug put you up in the guest rooms in the tower," Grimboldt declared.  "In the morning, I insist upon rewarding you for what you have done for me this day!  In my earlier days I, too, was an adventurer and I have some items I think would suit you all well.  I'll have Humbug help me find them - they're packed away.  But if you will please excuse me...?"  The halfling butler helped his master out of his chair and back to his bedroom.  "I'm actually a little afraid of falling back asleep," Grimboldt added as he was led back into his room.

"We'll be here in the morning to help you if you have any troubles waking from your dreams," Alewyth promised the wizard.

There were only four guest bedrooms, each with a single bed, so Humbug insisted upon giving up his own room upon the second floor.  "I will be fine on the sofa in the library for one night," he insisted.  "It's the least I can do to express my thanks.  I've made the beds with fresh linen.  If you need anything, please just call me - you all know where the library is located."  And with a smile, he bid them a good night and headed back down the stairs.

Humbug's bed was fitted for a human or a dwarf, in any case - the only halfling-sized furniture in his room was a desk and a chair - and the dwarven priestess volunteered to take his bedroom for the night.  "I'll see you all in the morning," she said, closing Humbug's bedroom door while the others all picked their own rooms and got ready for sleep themselves.

As expected, they were in for another night of training during their own dreams.  After reporting their first success to the Queen of Dreams and having her congratulate and thank them for their initial efforts, she released them to Mogo for the night's instruction.  "Tonight we're going to learn how to enter the space between dreams, kupo!" the moogle exclaimed.  He then showed them the different ways the individual dream-bubbles could be visualized: either as open space, as they saw when the Queen of Dreams flew her butterfly throne through the cloud of dream-bubbles, or as the series of hallways filled with doors Alewyth herself had accidentally discovered before first encountering a moogle.  "Eventually you'll learn how to differentiate which dream is which before entering it, but that's for later, kupo!" Mogo told them.  The rest of the night's dream-time was spent going from a random dream back to the space between dreams - sometimes in the endless hallways of doors, sometimes in what seemed like in a cloud of bubbles.  But eventually the night's training session came to an end and Mogo released them to continue their own individual dreams until they woke up on their own - naturally, or in the manner in which they had learned they could force themselves awake.  None of them chose to force themselves awake; it had been a hard three days of travel and they luxuriated in the opportunity to sleep as late as they wanted in Grimboldt's guest bedrooms.

However, when they did awaken on their own, things were not as they had expected them to be.

Zander awoke with a strange feeling in his head, almost as if he had been drinking heavily the night before.  But that made no sense - they'd each had but a single glass of wine with the evening's dinner, nothing more.  Sitting up groggily, the elf was surprised to find himself on the hard floor, in a room he didn't recognize at all.  That wasn't all that was unrecognizable, either, for the sorcerer was clad in a poncho-like garment, a white square with a hole in the center where his head stuck out, the rest of it folded around him and tied at the waist like a toga.  "What...?" he croaked to himself, thoroughly confused.

He wasn't the only one to awaken in such a state, however; in separate rooms in this strange building with no furniture, each of the other adventurers woke up in a similar state, all dressed in the same manner.  Alewyth's hand went to her throat at the realization she was in a strange garment; her holy symbol of Aerik, God of Protection, which she habitually wore around her neck since the day she had been confirmed as a priestess, was missing!  Looking around at the otherwise empty room, she saw no sign of her other items: her armor, her warhammer, her pack - all were missing as well.

None of the rooms had doors, merely doorways.  As one, the group stumbled out into a larger, central room and took stock of the situation.  "Anybody know what happened?" Thurloe asked the room at large.

"I don't think we're on the Material Plane anymore," Wakuren theorized, lifting his arms and letting them fall.  "The gravity seems different."

"What plane are we on, then?" asked Xandro - as a bard, he focused his area of expertise upon the cities and towns he visited, not on any of the myriad other planes of existence that were said to abound outside the Mortal Realm.

Thurloe had his eyes closed and was concentrating hard.  He opened them back up and looked around.  "I don't think we're dreaming," he said.  "At least, if we are I can't seem to wake myself back up."

"You don't think we're all stuck inside a dream, like Grimboldt was, do you?" gasped Alewyth.  She too tried using the training she'd received from Mogo to try to wake up, to no avail.

But then a voice boomed from outside the building.  "ARISE, MORTALS!" it demanded.  "EXIT YOUR DWELLING AND STAND BEFORE THE TITAN *KORDIAN*!"    

"The who now?" asked Thurloe, but he led the group outside the front doorway and got a good look at the local area outside the building they'd all been in when they awakened.  Seated before them, across a wide plane of stone, was the titan who had called out to them.  This Kordian was an imposing figure, seated upon an elaborately carved wooden throne, wearing a toga of much more intricate design than the simple tied-off ponchos the adventurers wore.  His muscular legs were wrapped in leather straps leading down to his sandals; upon his brow he wore a wreath of leaves.  His every feature was of utmost perfection as he looked down upon his audience of five.  Behind him, a massive stone wall encircled the floor in all directions, leaving an open sky of vivid blue with white clouds drifting lazily by.  Thurloe took his best guess at the distance between the titan and them, then used that to try to gauge Kordian's size.  He had to be at least 25, maybe even 30 feet tall!  He looked over at his companions, a "What's going on?" expression plastered on his face.

"I HAVE LIFTED YOU FROM THE DRUDGERY OF THE MORTAL REALM TO LIVE HERE WITH ME IN THE OVERWORLD," Kordian announced.  "HERE YOU WILL NOT AGE OR GROW INFIRM; YOU NEED ONLY BASK IN MY RADIANT GLORY AND SING ME SONGS OF WORSHIP."

Everyone looked expectantly at Xandro.  "I don't have my lute," he choked out.

"Can't you summon one?" hissed Zander.  "Let's not get the giant guy mad at us!"

Xandro cleared his mind and activated a _summon instrument_ spell, which would in theory cause a lute to appear magically in his hands.  He'd never had cause to cast the spell before since becoming an adventurer, but it was one of the first bard spells he had learned and had used it several times before initially meeting the others.  However, to his surprise, nothing happened.  Embarrassed at his failure, he turned to Kordian and admitted, "I don't have my lute with me, nor can I seem to summon one."

"NO MATTER!" boomed Kordian, a smile on his face.  "YOUR VOICES WILL SUFFICE!  SING ME A TALE OF THE EARLY DAYS OF MANKIND, WHEN I HELPED RAISE YOU TO YOUR CURRENT POITION OF PROMINENCE IN THE WORLD!"

"I, uh, I'm afraid I don't know any songs...about you," Xandro replied.

"WHAT?" boomed Kordian, a stern look crossing the perfect features of his face.  "DO YOU NOT KNOW HOW I SLEW THE MONSTER-GIANTS, PAVING WAY FOR THE GODS WHO CAME AFTER ME?  OR HOW I CRAFTED THE SHIELDWALL MOUNTAINS, RISING THEM UP TO KEEP THE MORTAL RACES SAFE FROM THE INVADERS ACROSS THE SEA?  OR HOW I--AAAH!  KILL IT!  KILLITKILLIKILLIT!"  These last instructions were given as Kordian leaped up from his seat and jumped up to stand upon the throne, pointing in panic at the ground between him and his five new worshipers.  There, wandering absently was a fat-bodied spider, maybe three feet around, counting its leg-span.  It seemed to notice neither the five assembled heroes nor the panicked titan, who was still pointing down at it and demanding the spider be killed at once.

None of the heroes had their weapons or armor at hand; none of the spellcasters had any of their component pouches or holy symbols.  Still, Thurloe decided he'd rather fight a three-foot spider barehanded than a titan who could easily stomp him underfoot.  He sprinted forward, catching up to the plump arachnid from behind and slamming his fist into its bloated abdomen with every ounce of strength he could muster.  He found Alewyth had come to the same conclusion and sprinted forward beside him, adding her own dwarven fist to the mix.  Zander, however, did a quick mental inventory and realized most of the spells he was able to cast required only the correct verbal and somatic components, and thus cast a _detect magic_ spell on his eyes, examining the spider intensely.  Was there something special about this arachnid, to put so much fear into a titan?  But despite his scrutiny, there was nothing inherently magical about the eight-legged creature.  The elf shrugged to himself - this day was turning out to be all kinds of weird.

Xandro, worried about not getting the titan any angrier at him than he had already seemed to be, ran up beside Thurloe and Alewyth and likewise punched the spider, wishing he had some kind of a weapon - any kind, really.  But Wakuren was there beside the bard punching at the arachnid's bloated abdomen as well, and the spider's legs faltered as the beast fell over to its side.  Not ever having been this close to a giant spider before, Xandro wasn't sure if it was dead or merely stunned, but he was willing to bet it was just the latter, for the four heroes had only been able to punch it a couple times with their fists - surely that wouldn't have slain it, would it have?

Still, dead or only knocked out, the motionlessness of the spider was enough to get Kordian to step down from on top of his throne.  "DRAG IT AWAY!" he demanded, pointing off to the side of the dwelling from which the heroes had emerged.  The four each grabbed a spindly leg and lugged the arachnid away as indicated.

But that was apparently it for the day's titan adoration session, for Kordian immediately ordered everyone back into the house.  They obeyed at once, barely making it into the central chamber before the whole structure dipped to the side, spilling several of them to the floor.  There was a weird sensation in everyone's stomach as the house was lifted into the air and carried away.

The house trembled and shook as Kordian walked away with the structure in his hands; inside, it felt very much like the heroes were experiencing an earthquake.  But finally there was a soft thud as the house hit ground - again spilling everyone to the floor - and all movement stopped.  They could hear the sounds of footsteps echoing away; after several minutes of relative silence, Wakuren dared to peek his head out the front doorway to the exterior of the building.

They were no longer in the stone receiving area with the open skies above; now they were in a field of dirt, with several leafy plants towering above them.  Exploring the area, they found they were imprisoned in a rectangular box of invisible walls on three sides, with a solid wooden wall behind them.  Looking up, they could see no sky overhead but rather the faraway ceiling, a slanted structure made of metal struts and enormous panes of glass.  Xandro made a go of trying to climb up one of the plants and it supported his weight just fine, but it wasn't anywhere near tall enough for him to reach the top of the walls, which the bard could see were topped with a walkway of sorts or what might be wood - it was too far away to tell for sure.

"You know where we are?" Thurloe asked the others.  "We're in a terrarium!"

"But how'd we get here?" Alewyth demanded.  "That titan couldn't have taken us like he said he did, could he have?"

"I really don't think that was a titan," Wakuren pointed out.  "Scared of what would have been a little spider to him?  I doubt it."

"So if that wasn't a titan, who was it?" asked Zander.  "What else is that big?  A cloud giant?  A giant wouldn't be afraid of a little spider, either, would it?"

"I don't think he's that big at all," Wakuren said.  "I think we're small!"  He turned around, indicating the terrarium all around them.  "And I don't think this is a giant terrarium, either - it's probably no bigger than any other terrarium you've ever seen before.  I'd bet we're all probably just a couple inches tall."  He held his arms out to the side and let them drop.  "That would explain the funky gravity, too," he surmised.  "It would feel different at this size."

Some time later, after Xandro had pulled a couple of leaves off one of the plants and tossed them down to the others, deciding they looked safe enough to eat, there was a thunk as something hard hit the rooftop of their building.  Looking up, they could see there was now some sort of giant wooden pole - rather like an uncarved totem pole, Xandro decided - lodged diagonally from the rooftop to the upper edge of the front wall.  "Hey!" he called to the others.  "If we can get to the rooftop, we can climb up that pole and get to the top of the terrarium!"  Wakuren and Thurloe helped the lithe bard climb up onto their shoulders and he grabbed hold of the top of the roof.  Then he struggled to pull himself up - until he saw the face of a giant, white-furred rat looking down at him from the top of the pole.  Then he scrambled back down to the ground as quickly as he could go.

"Giant rat!" Xandro said, pointing up at the top of the pole.  The others backed away so they could see, but there was no rat visible.  "It was right there!" the bard insisted.

Zander, being rather slender himself, was the next to try to climb to the rooftop once Xandro declared he wasn't going up there with a giant rat somewhere about.  The elf cautiously grabbed the top of the roof and pulled himself up.  He stood up, looking up along the edge of the terrarium wall - no rat.  "It's clear!" he called down to the others, just seconds before the giant rat reappeared.  This time it had several slender bits of metal in its mouth.  Scurrying along the top of the terrarium wall, it peered down at the heroes and scampered along the pole onto the roof - causing Zander to leap back down to the safety of the ground just as Xandro had done.  The rat poked his head over the side of the roof, opened his mouth wide, and allowed the metal rods to fall over the roof's edge, landing in a loose pile in the dirt.  It then waited patiently as the group cautiously approached the metal rods.  Each was the size of a shortspear, with an oblong hole in the side opposite the pointy end.

"These...are needles," Alewyth said, lifting one and feeling its heft.  "Yep, we've been shrunk, all right."  She passed the weapons out to each of the other heroes, not at all surprised to see there were exactly five needles in all.  She looked back up to the rooftop and said, "And that's not a giant white rat.  I'll bet that's a little white mouse - probably Grimboldt's familiar."  She waved up at the white-furred rodent; after a moment, *Squeaky Cheeser* waved back.  Then he busied himself tugging the pole down from the edge of the terrarium wall until it angled down from the rooftop to the ground below.  Everyone backed away and gave the mouse plenty of room as he scampered down the pole's length and plopped down on the ground.

"Can you understand us?" Alewyth asked, her needle-spear held at her side in a nonthreatening way.  Squeaky Cheeser nodded in reply.  Then, hesitantly, he approached the group and began drawing figures in the dirt.  The first was a simple stick figure of a man, then an arrow leading from him to a much smaller stick figure.  "We were shrunk," Alewyth guessed.  The mouse nodded again and resumed drawing.

His second drawing was of a stick figure reclining in bed.  "That's us, sleeping," Xandro guessed.  The mouse then added a blanket over the sleeping figure, then pointed back to the shrunken stick figure from the first drawing.  "The blanket shrunk us," Wakuren guessed.  "But who did this?"

Squeaky Cheeser began another stick figure drawing; this one had a beard.  "_Grimboldt_ shrunk us?" snarled Thurloe in disbelief.  _Of all the ungrateful...!_

But the mouse was shaking his head vigorously from side to side.  Next to the stick figure of his master he drew another one, this one about half the size.  This one he circled.

"Humbug!" the heroes cried out as one.

"I'll bet that was him disguised as the titan!" Zander added.  "All it would take was an _alter person_ spell - not even a spell, he could have just drank down a potion.  Why, that little weasel!"  He silently kicked himself for not focusing his attention on the "titan" when he'd cast his _detect magic_ spell activated to check out the spider.

"Where's Grimboldt?" Alewyth asked.  "Is he okay?"  That led to another drawing, this time of just a stick figure head - complete with a beard, indicating it was the familiar's master - sticking his tongue out.  Then Squeaky Cheeser drew a slash across the tongue before erasing it by rubbing his front paw over the part of the dirt in which it had been drawn.  He drew another tongue off to the side of Grimboldt's head.

Thurloe caught on at once.  "Humbug cut his tongue out, so he couldn't cast spells," he told the others.  "Was he shrunk as well?"  The mouse nodded in the affirmative.

"Where is he now?" Alewyth repeated.  In response, Squeaky Cheeser drew a rectangle in the dirt, then another beside it, and another.  He pointed to each of the group in turn, then stuck his paw on the first rectangle.  Then he pointed to the Grimboldt stick-figure head and over to the farthest rectangle.  "...He's in a terrarium two over from the one we're in," she translated.

"We need to go get him," Wakuren said.  "But then what?"

Squeaky Cheeser answered with more drawings in the dirt.  He drew a hand, then put a ring on one finger, and then drew a bookshelf filled with books.  Pointing to the ring and then a book on the top shelf, the group figured out there was a magic ring hidden in one of the books in Grimboldt's library.  When the mouse pointed to the ring and then drew Grimboldt's tongue back in his mouth, the group figured the ring would allow the wizard to be restored, after which time he'd certainly be able to undo the size reduction to which the heroes had all been involuntarily subjected.

Done with his stick-figure drawings, Squeaky Cheeser pushed Alewyth's needle-spear in the dirt touching the tip of the wooden pole leading up to the roof.  Then, motioning for Zander to follow him, he scampered up the pole.  Once the elf had followed, the mouse pointed out a series of letters carved into the side of the wooden pole.  When Zander spoke the word thus formed aloud, there was a zap of energy and Alewyth called up to him that her needle was glowing slightly.  It didn't take Zander long to work out that the "pole" was a wooden _wand of magic weapon_ and that Squeaky Cheeser had not only found a way to arm the miniscule heroes, but to provide them magic weapons as well - even if the magic had a time limit.  Zander tossed his own needle-spear back down to the others and then used four more charges from the wand to enhance all five of the makeshift weapons.  Then, one by one, the heroes climbed up onto the roof and helped maneuver the wand back up to the edge of the terrarium wall.

The view from the very top edge of the terrarium helped the group see exactly where they were.  It was a long greenhouse of sorts, filled with a row of terraria on either side of the long, central aisle and a large fish tank at the far end.  They could even see some of the creatures in the glass cages on the other side of the aisle from them: a trio of cows and a bull directly across from them and what looked to be a black bear in the one beside that.  The animals looked to be "normal" sized to the shrunken heroes, meaning they too had likely been reduced in size by whatever magic Humbug had employed during the night while the heroes slept.

Crossing from one terrarium to another wasn't that difficult due to their close proximity; Squeaky Cheeser had managed it without any makeshift bridges.  The edge of the glass wall was as wide as a balance beam - easily crossed if you didn't look down or think about what might be down in the terrarium below you.  (Thurloe peeked: it was a boar, not something he'd want to fight with only a needle-as-shortspear, _magic weapon_ spell notwithstanding.)  One by one they made their way across the boar's glass prison and over to the next one after that.  This one had a lot of plants in it, but close scrutiny allowed the group to spot not only Grimboldt, perched in what looked to be a small tree (but which had to be some kind of smaller plant, likely a fern or something), but also the crocodile waiting for him at the bottom of the plant should he - or any of them - happen to fall.  Grimboldt looked to be unconscious, with a smattering of blood smeared around his mouth.

"He's too far down for us to reach him from here," Thurloe pointed out.  "Suggestions?"

"We need rope or something," Wakuren suggested.  He looked down at the belt holding his poncho-toga closed.  "Do you think if we tied these together...?" he hazarded.

"What is this anyway - thread?" asked Alewyth, examining her own "belt."  "Do you think it would be strong enough?"  But Squeaky Cheeser, hearing their requests, scampered off the way he had come, along the edges of the terraria.  Several minutes later, he returned - this time with a length of yarn in his mouth; apparently he'd partially unraveled a scarf or something.  But Zander, being the lightest of the group, was lowered down with his foot in a loop at one end of the yarn until he was level with Grimboldt; then, stepping off onto the plant's branches beside the wizard, he carefully woke him up and tied the yarn around the wizard's waist.  The others heaved him up to their level, then lowered the yarn loop back down to Zander and helped pull him back up as well.

"Now we need to get down off of here and over to the library," Xandro said.  "Any ideas?"  Squeaky Cheeser had the answer to that as well: skirting over to the front of the terrarium, he pitched himself over the ledge, landing on the floor below.  While from this height it looked like several stories down, Thurloe figured he was only at about shoulder height at his normal size - maybe four feet?  Less than five, in any case.  Shrugging, he tossed his needle-spear down before him and then followed the little white mouse over the edge and rolled when he landed.

"It's okay!" he called back up to the others.  "At this size, it's not as bad as it looks!"

The others leaped over the edge as well and everyone made it in one piece, Grimboldt included.  Then Squeaky Cheeser led the group back toward the rest of the manor - for the greenhouse area had been tacked on to the dwelling years after its initial construction - and through a hole in the wainscoting, into the wizard's arcane lab.  From there they were able to squeeze beneath the door and make it into a hallway leading to Grimboldt's bedroom.  Then it was a simple matter to crawl under the door into the library.

"We're here," Xandro announced.  "Now, where's that book with the ring?"

There were several bookshelves in the room; Grimboldt pointed to the leftmost one of a set of three set side by side.  The shelves were each a bit taller than twice the size of any of the heroes in their current size.  "How are we going to get up there?" Zander asked.

Thurloe gave it some thought.  Climbing up onto the bottom shelf, he examined the sides of the bookcase.  They were in luck: the shelves were adjustable, each wooden shelf balanced on four metal pegs placed in holes along the inner sides; the unused holes would make it easy to climb, using them as hand- and footholds - at least until they hit the shelf above.  But Thurloe figured out the best way to approach that hazard as well: if two people climbed up one side, one behind the other, the bottommost could help steady the topmost while he released the holes with his hands and got a good grip on the edge of the shelf to pull himself up.  Then, once firmly on the ledge, he could reach down and help pull up his climbing partner.  Thurloe was the group's best climber so he was definitely going to make the ascent; Wakuren volunteered to go with him.  Alewyth and Xandro opted to give it a go on the other side of the bookshelf, with Zander staying with Grimboldt and Squeaky Cheeser to keep watch.

The bookcase they were climbing had six shelves; the ring was hidden in a hollow book on the top shelf.  (Grimboldt had never imagined he'd only be several inches tall when he'd need to fetch it.)  Thurloe and Xandro had made it to the third shelf from the bottom and were leaning over to help Wakuren and Alewyth up when Zander gave a startled cry from below.  He, Grimboldt, and Squeaky Cheeser had climbed up onto a footstool across the room so they could see better and they had spotted an intruder enter the library on a multitude of legs: a centipede, probably a normal one but much longer than the heroes in their current state.

The centipede didn't seem to notice the trio on the footstool, but made a beeline for the bookshelves and started climbing up the front of the bookcase the other four heroes were ascending.  Warned by Zander's frantic cries, Alewyth and Wakuren were pulled up onto the shelf and the four grabbed up their needle-spears.  Looking over the edge, Thurloe saw the shiny, black head of the centipede as the otherwise red-bodied creature scampered up the side of the bookcase.  He stabbed at its head with his needle as soon as it got within range and it stiffened and dropped to the library floor.  The fighter was surprised at how easily he'd slain it, unaware that Zander had brought it down with a _magic missile_ spell from his footstool perch.  Despite his current size, he channeled as much energy in a _magic missile_ spell as he did at his normal height and the centipede hadn't been able to survive the arcane assault.

Seeing no other threats at the moment, the four heroes continued their bookcase ascent.

Once all four of them had made it to the top shelf, Grimboldt pantomimed whether they needed to go left or right until they hit the correct book.  Thurloe boosted Xandro up to the top of the books, where he helped wrest it free from its place on the shelf.  Alewyth, Thurloe, and Wakuren managed to turn it in place and set it down flat; then, opening the top cover, they saw the pages were blank but a hole had been cut into the pages, creating a space for a ring to be hidden.  The ring was the size of a dinner plate, but knowing it had to be magical in nature and most magic rings resized to fit the wearer, Wakuren stuck his finger into the middle of the ring's interior and smiled in satisfaction as the ring shrunk down to fit his tiny finger.  Once in place, the magic of the ring revealed to the half-orc its true power: it wasn't a _ring of regeneration_ as he had at first thought, but a _ring of three wishes_ with but a single wish remaining.

Immediately, thoughts of other potential wishes crossed the cleric's mind - but then he brushed them off.  _Better to stick to the original plan_, he decided.  "I wish Grimboldt's tongue was restored," he said.  The four on the top shelf looked down over the edge at the trio on the footstool.

"Thank you once again," Grimboldt called up to them.  "Climb on back down, and we'll see about getting ourselves restored to our original size."

Climbing down carefully - for none of the heroes was willing to risk what looked like an eight-story drop - the four made their way back down the bookcase and gathered together with the others once back on the library floor.  "We'll likely have a difficult time with the stairs," Grimboldt advised, saying the words to a _teleport_ spell.  Immediately, the group found themselves in one of the guest bedrooms.

"Humbug used the _sheets of shrinking_ I used to create my minimals - minimized animals, the creatures I keep in the terraria in the greenhouse - to reduce us to one-twelfth of our normal size," Grimboldt said.  "One at a time, I can restore us all to our normal sizes.  Climb up underneath the sheet and remove this...toga-garment thing, for the size change only affects living tissue."  Alewyth volunteered to go first and was restored to normal size.  She wrapped herself in a blanket and lifted the next person onto the bed to be restored, then went off to get dressed in her normal clothes and armor.  Fortunately, all of her gear was still in place in Humbug's room; the halfling butler apparently hadn't gotten around to going through their stuff yet.

Once restored to normal and geared back up, the group made their way back down the stairs, where they could hear whistling coming from the kitchen.  Humbug was in the midst of kneading a ball of dough, no doubt the beginnings of a halfling bread loaf, when his wizardly master and the five visitors stepped into view.  Humbug's eyes grew wide with shock as he realized the jig was up.

Xandro couldn't help saying, "Hello, Kordian - how are things in the Overworld?"

"I--" Humbug began, but couldn't think of anything to follow; there was really no excuse he could give for the things he had done to his master and the five guests who had come to aid him.  But then Grimboldt touched the halfling butler on the shoulder, invoking a few choice arcane syllables.  The halfling found himself suddenly being reduced in size - not only that, but changing his physical shape as well during the process.  By the time Humbug had reached his new size, he'd attained his new shape as well: that of a bullfrog, which Grimboldt scooped up before he could hop away.  "I think you'll go into one of the plant terraria for now," he told his erstwhile employee.  Then he smiled.  "It would seem 'Bugcatcher' was a somewhat prophetic surname," he said.

Returning from the greenhouse, Grimboldt led the heroes back into his arcane laboratory.  "It would seem Humbug was playing about in here while I was trapped in my dreams," he said, looking around the lab and seeing how things had been moved around during his recent absence.  "Nonetheless, I have a few items I would like to pass on to you."  He gave Alewyth a _lesser metamagic rod of silent spells_, explaining its use to the priestess.  To Thurloe he gave a _torc of the titans_, a thick metal band worn about the neck that would allow him to channel extra power through his sword-strikes several times a day (and, the fighter considered, protect him from having his throat ripped out by dream foxes...).  Wakuren received an item once used by one of Grimboldt's adventuring cleric friends, a _ring of mystic healing_ that allowed a cleric to channel more healing energy through his _cure_ spells.  Xandro was given a pair of _true strike gauntlets_ that would guide the point of his rapier when he absolutely needed it.  Zander was given a _scout's headband_, which enhanced the wearer's eyesight in a variety of possible different ways.  He also gave them each a small pile of gemstones valued at 2,000 pieces of gold.

"I can never thank you enough for what you've done for me, literally saving me twice in less than 24 hours!" he said.  "If you ever pass this way again, by all means stop by - you'll always be welcome here."  He turned to Thurloe.  "And if you ever decide to spend some time delving into arcane spellcasting and would like a mentor, I will make myself available."

"I'll keep that in mind," Thurloe promised the wizard.  "For now, though, I think my sword is of better use to the group at large - we've got the elf for arcane spells."

"And the bard!" piped up Xandro.

"Yeah, and the bard," agreed Thurloe.

 - - - 

Knowing this was going to be our last gaming session for several months, after we finished up running through "Fox Hunt" we decided to plow through the next adventure as well.  However, with time as an issue, I kind of fast-forwarded through some of this adventure.  There was a travel encounter with a dire badger I just hand-waved away; it had been intended as a combat with something they hadn't fought before but had no real bearing on the adventure as a whole.

The _sheets of shrinking_ were a standard magic item in earlier versions of the game; for whatever reason they seem to not have made it to 3rd Edition.  (Neither, incidentally, were minimals, which originally appeared in the AD&D 1E _Monster Manual II_.)  But I liked them enough to build a whole adventure around them.  In fact, "With Minimal Danger" was originally an AD&D 2E adventure I wrote up for submission to _Dungeon_ magazine, but it didn't make it past the query stage, especially when it became apparent to the editors that the spellcasters would be seriously nerfed once they'd been shrunk and would lose the ability to cast any spells requiring material components.  (By the way, the reason Xandro's _summon instrument_ failed was the spell would have summoned a full-size lute into existence, which at Xandro's current six-inch height was more than he could manage.)  But I no longer had any of the work I had done on the original version, so I rewrote the adventure (and redesigned the maps) from scratch.

There would have been Balance checks to avoid falling into a terrarium, but I hand-waved those away in the interests of saving time.  I also made Grimboldt's location in the crocodile terrarium closer to the PCs' terrarium than originally intended, again just to speed things up.  So nobody had the opportunity to fall into a terrarium and have to fight the "minimals" kept there, which could have been the crocodile, timber wolves, boars, a black bear, cows and a bull, or light horses.  (Some of the other tanks just had plants in them.)

For the bookcase climbing section, I passed out some of Harry's Marvel superhero action figures to represent the PCs (Black Widow for Alewyth; Punisher for Thurloe; Iron Man for Wakuren; Hawkeye for Xandro; Doctor Strange for Zander) and had them stage their exact locations on the bookcases in the man-cave where we play.  The action figures were all more or less the "actual size" of the PCs at that point in time.  (The _ring of wishes_ was stashed inside Scott Adams's Dilbert book, "The Joy of Work.")

By the way, Humbug's cooking expertise allowed him to add a slow-acting poison to the meal he served, causing a deep slumber several hours after having been imbibed.  That allowed him to shrink each of the heroes (and his master), dress them in his modified handkerchiefs, and place them in the "travel house" where they woke up the next morning without any worries they might wake up earlier than he had anticipated.  The "Overworld" was just the roof of the tower of Grimboldt's dwelling.  And had Alewyth investigated Humbug's desk (she didn't), she'd have found a book on the titans, whom Humbug revered for their power and size.

And now we're back on COVID hold until May or June.  But at least the heroes have one dream-success under their belts; for the next big chunk of the campaign, I envision them roaming the continent helping dream victims escape from their dreams, while they slowly try to figure out what's causing this unusual plague.

 - - - 

T-shirt worn: My blue shirt that reads, "Dad: cleverly disguised as a responsible adult," mostly because we played this adventure immediately after the previous one, but it was also thematically appropriate in that Humbug was "cleverly disguised" as the titan Kordian.


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## Richards (Jun 7, 2021)

*ADVENTURE 8: ANIMAL, VEGETABLE, AND MINERAL*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 2​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 2​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 1/paladin 1​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 2​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 2​
Game Session Date: 5 June 2021

 - - -

The group had been on the road for several days, but at long last they passed a wooden sign at the side of the road welcoming them to the small farming town of Moon Creek.  This, they well knew, was the location of the next dream victim they were to rescue, according to the instructions they'd received in the dreamlands from the Queen of Dreams herself.

Unfortunately, while the Queen could sense the locations of each of the dreamers entering her realm - and could step into any dream she chose to observe it playing out - not even she could always get a good look at the actual dreamer or learn his or her actual identity.  "Our best bet's to check in at the local tavern," suggested Xandro, astride his black horse White, named perhaps because of the white patch on the beast's muzzle but more likely because the bard had an unusual sense of humor.

His strategy paid off, though, for the tavernkeeper was indeed well aware of someone in town who had fallen asleep weeks ago and had not been able to be awakened since.  He gave Xandro directions to the home of one *Olliffer Pelham* and the bard thanked him for his time, tipping him a silver piece and returning to tell the others what he'd learned.

The door to Olliffer's home was answered by a good-looking young woman of about twenty summers; she introduced herself as Olliffer's granddaughter, *Jervilla*.  "He's back here, in his bedroom," she told them, leading them down the short hallway in the rear of the small dwelling after they'd explained why they'd come.  There in bed lay a man in his early sixties, tangled in his bedsheets and blanket.  "He tosses and turns quite frequently," she informed the group.  "And sometimes he lets out this weird moan.  But he's been asleep now for...it must be four weeks by now!  He's had nothing to eat and nothing to drink in all that time, but he doesn't look to have lost any weight at all.  I try moving him from one side of the bed to the other on occasion, so he doesn't get sores, but other than that there's not been much in the way of caring for him.  Just, you know, keeping his house and his farm in order while he sleeps.  Did you say you thought you could wake him up?"

Wakuren smiled his best smile at the young woman - he'd practiced it quite often in the mirror, hoping to lessen the impact of his bestial features - and explained how they'd already rescued a wizard from a similar situation several days back.  As he recounted to Jervilla what they'd be doing, the others pulled the old man's bed into the middle of the room while Alewyth set about affixing a dreamstone to his forehead, binding it in place with a bandana.  Then she passed a dreamstone to each of her companions as they took up positions around the bed, at the five points of a star.

"What shall I do?" Jervilla asked.

"Just see that we're not disturbed, please," Wakuren replied.  The young woman nodded her agreement and stepped back into the doorway, watching as the five adventurers crossed their legs where they sat and closed their eyes, their hands each cupped around a shiny stone.  Their breathing slowed and silence covered the room, broken only by Olliffer's occasional grunt or moan.

In the dreamlands, each of the adventurers suddenly manifested in their own individual dreamscapes and were met by their own private moogle guides.  "Hey there, kupo!" called out Doc as Thurloe Pulver suddenly appeared before the flying kitten-thing.  How Doc knew exactly where the young fighter would show up was a mystery to Thurloe, but he'd learned things were often pretty strange in the dream-lands.  "Lead on, Doc," he said and without any further discussion the moogle spun about in mid-air and started flapping off in a random direction.  Thurloe followed.

Eventually, all five of the dreamwalkers met up with each other as their five moogle guides brought them to the endless hallways of doors - where each door opened to a specific dream currently being played out.  There was another moogle waiting there for them and with a nod of his fuzzy head (which set the pom-pom at the end of his antenna bouncing) he dismissed the other moogles, who each then flapped away down the hallway, chatting with the others.

"This dream's in a kind of continuous loop, like the last one with the dream fox, kupo!" said Mogo, their primary dream instructor.  "But the people keep changing around - you'll see, kupo!"  Mogo opened the door and ushered the five inside.

"Aren't you coming with us?" Xandro asked as he followed the others into the dreamscape of Olliffer Pelham, practically walking straight into Zander Quilson, who had stopped short at what he saw before him.

"I'll wait out here, kupo!" Mogo replied, closing the door in the bard's face.

Xandro turned around at the sound of Alewyth's stifled gasp of surprise - and found himself stifling one of his own.  There, standing before him, were twenty beautiful young women, all human but otherwise looking nothing like each other, for there were blondes, brunettes, redheads, and those with raven-black hair; a bevy of various skin tones; some wearing elaborate makeup on their faces and some with faces as natural as the day they were born.

And not a one of them wore even a scrap of clothing.

Xandro turned away, embarrassed.  The women were grouped in a tight circle, watching in awe and anticipation at the coupling going on in the center of their ring; Thurloe immediately recognized Olliffer's grunts and moans as the old man got about to the business at hand.  None of the figures seemed aware of the entrance of the five dreamwalkers into their midst.

Wakuren was the first to snap out of the sudden shock of the dream orgy going on before him.  Focusing his vision as he'd been taught back at the temple of Cal, he did his best to try to discern any evil in the auras of those assembled before him, worried at the possibility these women might actually be a score of succubi or something similar.  But while he detected no evil emanations coming from them, he also knew he could not count on these senses giving him accurate readings while in the midst of a dream, for each dream had the opportunity of making up its own rules on how exactly things worked - in a dream, a succubus might truly seem as innocent and pure as she wanted others to believe.

Thurloe unsheathed his bastard sword, just in case (idly recalling having his throat ripped out by a dream fox), and started circling the group of women in a counterclockwise direction.  He tried to see if any of them were identical, but each of the twenty seemed to be a unique individual.

Alewyth was the first to try to break up the dream.  "Excuse me," she said to Olliffer.  "Olliffer Pelham?  We're here to--"

She was cut off in mid-sentence.  "You'll have to wait your turn, just like the others!" Olliffer called back to the dwarven priestess, not even once glancing in her direction - focused, instead, on the rhythmic coupling with the gorgeous redhead currently beneath him.  A beautiful brunette at his side could no longer keep away from the sixty-something man before her, rubbing her hands over his bony shoulders, as if encouraging him in his efforts.

Zander finally stepped forward and tried to pull the woman away from Olliffer.  To his surprise, as soon as he touched her she popped like a bubble, much in the same way he'd read happened when one dealt with an illusory _mirror image_ from the spell of the same name - one moment she was bending over Olliffer Pelham, stroking his shoulders, and the next it was as if she had never existed.  Zander stumbled, nearly falling over at the sudden disappearance of the woman he thought he'd be pulling away from the sixtyish grandfather.

"What the--?" exclaimed Thurloe, who had seen the woman disappear.  He touched the shoulder of the blonde standing before him and she too vanished without a trace.  Alewyth stepped forward and touched the two women to either side of her, popping them out of immediate existence as well.  She nodded in appreciation; it would be very useful indeed, she thought, if she could get rid of irritating people in the real world as easy as it was in this particular dream.

But now the remaining women finally broke away from their fascination at Olliffer's sexual exploits and noticed the strangers standing among them.  With a unified shriek of terror and surprise, they backed away and started running in all directions.  Neither Olliffer nor his current partner seemed to notice their distress, however, their focus solely on each other for the moment.

Zander dashed forward and popped away another two women, causing the others to veer away from him, shrieking all the while.  Thurloe thought about giving pursuit but then decided he'd do what he could to get Olliffer's attention; this was, after all, the old man's dream and as such he should be their main focus.  Thinking it the best way to get Olliffer to shift his attention to Thurloe, the fighter bent over and touched the woman beneath the old man on the head.  She vanished at once and Olliffer collapsed in a heap on the ground, no longer supported by a young, supple body bearing his weight.

Alewyth tapped him on the shoulder as he struggled to his hands and knees, indignant at the interruption.  He whirled around, caught the dwarven priestess in his sight, and demanded, "What the Hell, woman?  Why ain't you nekkid?  Get to it!"

Zander, Wakuren, and - at the urging of the other two - Xandro chased down the remaining women, popping them into nonexistence with a mere touch, while Thurloe and Alewyth confronted the furious Olliffer.  But before he could get out a word, the last of his dream harem disappeared and just like that his dreamscape started disappearing around him as well.  "He's waking up!" Thurloe warned the others.  "Let's go!  Awaken, everyone!"

Using the dream training they'd received from Mogo and had practiced ever since, the five dreamwalkers awakened themselves from the vanishing dream and found their consciousnesses back in their bodies in the mortal world, sitting in a ring around Olliffer Pelham's bed.  "Grandfather!" exclaimed Jervilla, beaming with joy.  "They did it!  You're awake!"

That was certainly the case, for Olliffer Pelham was now sitting upright in his bed and staring down at the five interlopers blinking awake all around him.  "You _bastards!_" he screamed.  "What in the--?  Why the Hell did you--?  Of all the--!"  He sputtered over his words in his anger, unable to complete a sentence so great was his fury.

"Grandfather!" chided Jervilla, then turned to the five heroes as they stood up.  "I'm so sorry," she apologized to them.  "I don't know why he's like this!  He's usually very soft spoken...."

"Get the Hell out of my house!" roared Olliffer, his fury giving him the voice of a man half his age.  "If I ever see you again, I'll string you up myself!  Of all the--!  I was--!  Now I--!"  He started sputtering again as the five heroes got to their feet and with a look askance at each other, wordlessly slid out of the old man's bedroom, Alewyth taking the opportunity to slide the bandana off the old man's head as she passed and recovering the dreamstone in that fashion.  Then they were out of the old man's house and leaping back onto their horses, Alewyth and Wakuren climbing up onto the mule-driven wagon instead.

"Now where?" asked Zander.  They hadn't had the opportunity to pin down their next dream victim yet; they'd expected to do that this coming evening, perhaps at the tavern in the center of Moon Creek whose owner had helpfully directed them to the Pelham house.  But not now; now it seemed best to put as much distance between themselves and Olliffer Pelham as possible.

"Let's keep going on down the road in the direction we were heading," Thurloe suggested, leading the way astride his horse, Horse.  "I doubt if the Queen would have us backtracking.  We'll hole up in the next town and get directions to our next assignment from there."

The fighter mused silently to himself for a bit, then threw out the following question, which had been bothering him since exiting Olliffer's dream: "Why would somebody want to trap an old man in a dream about having as much sex as he wants with a whole ton of hot women?  That doesn't make a whole lot of sense."

"You're assuming somebody's doing this purposefully," pointed out Wakuren.  "It could be something that occurs naturally."

"What, like some sort of weird disease?" asked Thurloe.  "Nah, can't be - the Queen of Dreams already said you can't catch it from somebody else."

"'Don't seem to be able to,' you mean," corrected the half-orc.  "So far, I don't think that's definitely been proven."

"Well, whichever, we now have two data points," Alewyth interjected.  "As we rescue more people from their dreams, maybe some sort of pattern will emerge."

"Give me a choice between being chased by a dream fox and being surrounded by a bunch of naked women, I know which dream I'd want to get stuck in!" added Zander, turning to the bard.  Xandro's face just reddened and he remained silent.

Before the group made it out of town, they were hailed by a man approaching them from the side of the road.  He had jet-black hair just starting to gray at the temples and introduced himself as *Counselor Lugendorf*.  "I was told we had visitors," he said, being drawn to the emblem on Wakuren's shield.  "A cleric of Cal?" he asked.  "Are you here to follow up after the other one who was by here last week?"

Wakuren admitted he was unaware of any other members of his order in the neighborhood and Counselor Lugendorf filled him in.  A week or so ago a cleric of Cal came into town, accompanied by a  fighter; both were human and fairly young.  The Moon Creek Council hired them on the spot to deal with their recent needlefolk problem, for in the prior several weeks a few of these strange, cactuslike plant-people had wandered into some of the fields and attacked the farmers working there on several occasions.  In the week since the two men had gone off to deal with the needlefolk, sightings of the creatures had greatly diminished, although every couple of days one or two of the plant-men had still been spotted.  "Seems like they must have gotten most of the pack, but they never came back for the reward yet.  I figure, good folk that they are, they want to make sure they've taken care of every last needlefolk before they return for their earnings."

"Out of curiosity, how much were these earnings?" asked Thurloe.  He was already working out a way to get the five heroes tucked into the agreement as an auxiliary needlefolk eradication force, but Wakuren nipped that in the bud by reinforcing they had not been sent by the other two, merely crossing paths out of sheer coincidence.  Thurloe fumed silently at the half-orc's irritating default of full-fledged honesty; he'd have to have a talk with him later about not turning down lucrative opportunities that insisted on just throwing themselves in their way.

But Counselor Lugendorf volunteered the information anyway.  "It was 50 pieces of gold, about all we could afford," he said.  "Like I said, we still see the occasional needlefolk, so maybe those other two fellows could use your help - I'll leave it to you all to decide how to split up the payment.  But every encounter with them plant-people has started with them coming from the direction of the old silver mine."  He gave them directions to the mine, long since abandoned after the veins of ore dried up.

Wakuren had one additional question before they left.  "What were the names of the two men?" he asked.

"The cleric was *Peter Dublinson*," Counselor Lugendorf replied, "and the other one just went by *Gryff*."  At that, Wakuren's face froze in a grin, the half-orc not wanting to let his true feelings to show.  Instead, he smiled at the town councilman and thanked him for the information.  Then they turned their wagon and horses and headed off towards the old silver mine.

"Those names mean anything to you?" Alewyth asked.  She'd caught on to the half-orc's sudden facial paralysis as he held back a grimace.

"Not the Gryff guy," replied Wakuren.  "But Peter Dublinson was one of the adepts who beat me up and got me kicked out of the temple right before we were to all have become ordained as clerics."  He didn't mind helping out the Moon Creek Council - or even Peter - with their needlefolk problem, but he planned to have a few choice words with his fellow cleric when he saw him!

The mine was easy to find, about forty minutes of riding down the end of a little-used road now becoming clogged with weeds as nature slowly took back what had been hers.  There were several sun-bleached, wooden buildings scattered around a dark opening into the side of a hill, what could only be the main mine entrance.  Off to the side of the entrance was a statue of a dwarf, much taller than any dwarf or any human who had ever lived.  Alewyth halted the mules off to the side of the road and the others dismounted their horses, leaving them tied to nearby trees with plenty of lead so they could graze contentedly while the adventurers checked the place out on foot.

Zander headed over to the well to see if it still had a bucket at the end of the rope dangling down its shaft, for he was thirsty from the ride.  The others spread out, each heading to a different building.  But before any of them reached their intended destination a group of four bodies entered the area, each slipping around the edge of a different building.  These were skeletal-thin bodies wrapped in hard, green flesh, from which protruded hundreds of spikes and spines of various sizes: the group was meeting up with their first needlefolk!

Almost as one, the plant-men stiffened, turned their heads to face Zander Quilson, and then started sprinting in his direction.  Their faces held no expressions but the elf nonetheless got the impression they wanted him, specifically, dead.

Zander ducked as one reached within striking distance to the elf and brought a spine-covered hand swiping at him in a lateral swing.  Another ran up beside the first and tried bringing its two fists crashing down onto the elf's head.  Zander scrambled backwards and quickly cast a _mage armor_ spell on himself, wanting the extra protection it afforded, as Thurloe stepped forward, bastard sword in hand, and interposed himself between the two needlefolk and their intended target.  He wasted no time in bringing his blade swinging forward and slicing through the torso of the first needlefolk, ripping it open and letting a fibrous filling spill out, as well as watery juices no doubt serving the plant as some sort of blood equivalent.  But even split open as it was, the creature retained its footing and clawed feebly at the fighter, trying to rip out his eyes with the thick thorns at the end of each finger.

Xandro, seeing combat was already in full swing, brought out neither of his primary weapons - the rapier he wore at his hip nor the light crossbow he wore on his back - but instead brought his trusty lute to bear.  He began the words to a song of inspiration, knowing the subtle magics he wove into his song would aid his fellows in their combat endeavors, allowing him to contribute to the entire group's success in an almost background fashion.

And it worked; Alewyth felt buoyed by the song's magic as she brought her warhammer crashing down upon another of these needlefolk who seemed so intent on slaying Zander.  (_Why him?_ she wondered briefly in the back of her mind, before dismissing her curiosity as a needless distraction.)  Her weapon crushed the spines of the plant-monster she fought, cracking open its hardened outer shell and causing it to likewise leak its watery life-fluid.

Wakuren stepped beside Zander and cast a _virtue_ spell on the frightened elf, hopefully keeping him in the fight just that much longer.  The elf stepped behind the powerfully-built half-orc, feeling safer now that there were two of his friends these plant-things would need to get past before they could get to him.

The two needlefolk who had originally tried killing Zander were now both focused on Alewyth and the dwarf grunted in pain as thorns cut the flesh of her hands where she gripped her weapon.  The other two tensed their bodies and suddenly flung needles at Thurloe, but those which hit glanced off his armor to little effect.

Zander spoke the words to a _magic missile_ spell and slew one of the needlefolk fighting Alewyth, the one Thurloe had cut wide open with his blade.  Thurloe closed the distance between him and one of the needlefolk who had just flung needles in his direction, getting in a glancing blow that nonetheless had spines and quills flying off to the side from the strength of his blow.  But seeing as how these creatures could throw their needles about, Xandro walked cautiously behind a weathered building, still playing his tune - but out of direct line of sight of any of the plant men.

Alewyth's warhammer slew the other needlefolk attacking her and as it collapsed in a heap she looked about her for new foes.  Wakuren slammed his shield into one of the two remaining needlefolk and in return it staggered backwards and launched a volley of needles in his direction, most of which the half-orc cleric blocked with the shield that was both an important part of his defenses and also his primary weapon.  The other one shot more needles at Thurloe, but was subsequently blasted by a _magic missile_ from Zander's fingertip and then taken down by a final blow from Thurloe's bastard sword.  The last one still standing was soon thereafter slain by Alewyth's warhammer and the five heroes looked about them to see if there were any more of these cactus-people wandering about.  It didn't look to be so.

Xandro finished up his tune of courage as Wakuren and Alewyth applied healing spells to those needing them.  Then they split up again, wanting to check out the various abandoned buildings.  Zander went back to the well and was pleased to see it was in fact fully intact; he applied himself to the hand-crank with full vigor, raising up a bucket of cool, clear water.  While Xander poked at the needlefolk corpses, Thurloe opened the door to what must have once been a shed full of tools but was now home only to a few dismal spider webs and the long-since-drained carcasses of flies.  Alewyth walked over to examine the statue outside the mine entrance, confirming to her satisfaction this was a depiction of her god, Aerik.  It made sense to her, for Aerik was the god of both protection and of earth and stone, a fitting patron guardian for a mining expedition.  She idly wondered if it had been dwarves involved in this mining endeavor; the statue of Aerik definitely sported dwarven features, but that in and of itself meant nothing, for Aerik was often thus depicted even by members of other races and she hadn't seen any dwarves in the small farming village of Moon Creek or anywhere along the road to the mines.  The carving had been nicely done, though, with a fine attention to detail.

A brief motion caught the corner of Alewyth's eye and she looked down the dark shaft of the mine, seeing something she hadn't expected to see: a flowering shrub of some sort, deep within the shadows of the mine.  There was a human-sized figure even further back, behind the plant, but he shifted to the side and was lost to her view.  "Hello?" she called out tentatively to the figure she'd seen, but got no reply.  Behind her, Zander was trying to open a door to a building off to the left of the mine entrance, but the wood had warped in place and he was having a difficult time forcing it open.  Seeing the dwarven priestess's attention at something down the mine shaft, he cast a _dancing lights_ spell that lit the place up, revealing the yellow-flowered plant whose fronds waved back and forth as if in the wind, although there was no wind present the elf could detect.

Wakuren, in the meantime, had been about to open the door to a weathered building when a horse suddenly rounded the corner from behind it.  The horse was saddled and ready for riding and, incongruously, seemed to have a row of yellow flowers pleated into its mane - not something he would have expected either Peter or his fighting partner to have spent the time doing.  Then the half-orc noticed something that has escaped his initial notice: one of the flowers was not poking out between the hairs of the creature's mane like the rest of them but was actually growing out of the horse's neck.

"Guys?" Wakuren called to the others.  "Weird horse over here!"  Then he activated the _ring of invisibility_ he wore and faded from view.

Thurloe had sheathed his bastard sword and gotten out his bow, an arrow nocked and ready to shoot.  Seeing the horse as it approached from behind the building, he raised his bow, took aim, and sent an arrow flying into the creature's neck, striking within inches of where the flower's stalk erupted from the equine flesh.  The horse barely even noticed, but Wakuren could clearly see a greenish sap oozing out of the wound instead of the red blood he'd expected.  Whatever this thing was now, it was clearly no longer a horse!

Xandro started playing his song of courage again, seeing as how combat had apparently started back up around him.  The horse-thing continued its approach, bumping into the invisible half-orc.  Wakuren replied with a bash of his shield, returning to visibility as he did so.  The horse lashed out with a sharp hoof in retaliation, but it was a half-hearted assault the cleric of Cal easily avoided.  But as the yellow-flowered plant didn't seem to be doing much in the mine shaft and the hidden figure behind it gave no indication of wanting to come forward, Alewyth left the mine entrance and headed over to help fight this odd horse Wakuren was going on about.

By the time the dwarven priestess had made it over that way, though, the creature was dead, brought down by a second arrow from Thurloe's bow, this shaft going straight through one of the horse's eyes.  Alewyth noted with puzzlement the flowers growing directly out of the slain horse's body and the greenish sap oozing from its wounds.  "Is this some sort of needlefolk thing?" she wondered aloud.  The horse's body didn't seem to have any thorns or quills growing out of it, just those few stalks ending in the yellow flowers.  But she explained to the others the plant growth she and Zander had found inside the mine entrance and everyone headed back that way, this time as a group.  Xandro, not trusting that combat was truly over, continued the tune upon his lute as he took up position behind the building with the stuck door.

The door didn't remain stuck for long, though, as Wakuren's broad shoulders were more than up to the task of bursting it open.  Inside, the building proved to be one large room - no doubt the main office when the mine had still been in operation, for there were a few desks and chairs, a cabinet for notes and reports and whatnot, and - most importantly to Wakuren - a map of the mine nailed to the back wall on yellowing paper.  Most of the mine consisted of parallel and perpendicular shafts carved into the hillside, but a natural chasm had been pierced at two points by tunnels that broached the diagonal structure at its westernmost end and about three-fourths of the way down its eastern side.

While Wakuren and Zander examined the office interior, Alewyth returned to the front of the mine entrance, peering mistrustingly at the yellow-flowered plant that had no business growing deep in the dark of the mine shaft, for it was a good thirty or forty feet back from the tunnel entrance, where no sunlight could ever reach it.  She also kept an eye out for the figure she'd seen behind the plant, but he made no attempt at stepping back into view.

Just then another figure came darting into view, popping around a side corridor branching off from the main shaft.  This was an armored human wearing a chain shirt and wielding a sword as long as the one Thurloe wielded.  Saying not a single word, the figure brought his bastard sword crashing down at Alewyth, who managed to deflect the majority of the blade's momentum off the side of her own armored forearm, raising a clatter of metal on metal as she did so.

Zander stepped back out of the doorway to the mining office and wasted no time in firing off a _magic missile_ at the man attacking his dwarven friend.  Alewyth responded with a strike at the armored foe with her warhammer, catching him in the chest with a blow powerful enough, the dwarven priestess hoped, to break a rib or two.  But no expression crossed the man's face at the wounds he'd just received, nor did it change in the slightest as his shoulder suddenly sprouted one of Thurloe's arrows, the arrowhead finding its way between the chain links of the fighter's armor.  Wakuren stepped up to the man and slammed his shield into his side, the blow spinning him around and revealing the yellow flower growing out of his lower back, just above his belt.  Not sure if this man had been transformed into a plant or some undead mockery of life, the half-orc raised his holy symbol of Cal and channeled a blast of positive energy at it.  The man gave no reaction, leading Wakuren to believe whatever it was, it wasn't some strange sort of undead.

His song finished - and its magic still certain to buoy up the heroes' efforts for a bit longer after the bard had finished playing - Xandro pulled the light crossbow from his back and set a bolt into place.  But before he could fire, Zander finished the man off with a second _magic missile_ spell.  He collapsed face-first onto the ground, the bastard sword spilling from his unliving fingers.  Thurloe couldn't help but notice the sword's fine craftsmanship and bent over to retrieve it; after a moment he sheathed his own sword and hefted this new one, liking the feel of it.

Zander was intrigued by the plant's role in all of this and stepped forward to get a better look at it.  He crossed some sort of proximity trigger in doing so, however, for the plant responded by turning one of its flower-fronds over in his direction and disgorging a long stream of yellowish pollen, causing the elf to double over, coughing.  Alewyth stepped up beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder and asking if he was all right.  Zander didn't answer, continuing to cough and sputter.  Alewyth started to try to pull him back and then noticed the plant's roots, which weren't sunken into the stone of the mine interior but were instead sunken into the festering corpses of several people all piled in a heap at the creeper's foot, while various vines and fronds branched out from the plant's core, terminating in thick, dark leaves and the occasional yellow flower.

"We ought to burn that thing," Wakuren suggested, lighting a torch with a tindertwig.  He used it to light another torch, passing it to Alewyth.  But as the dwarf turned to take the proffered torch from her fellow cleric, Zander shrugged his shoulder out from beneath Alewyth's hand and wandered slowly down the mine tunnel, headed directly for the plant, which almost seemed to quiver with anticipation.  Before the others had noted his disappearance, he had made it to the side of the plant and it had dropped a frond onto the elf's face.  Zander stood motionless and unconcerned as it drained away part of his own intellect.

And now the figure stepped from behind the plant, its last line of defense: a man Wakuren recognized immediately as Peter Dublinson, wearing full plate armor and holding a heavy mace and a shield bearing the image of Cal's holy symbol.  Peter, Wakuren recalled, had been from a wealthy family and apparently only the best was good enough for their son, even if he was entering service as a cleric and should have been above such things as material wealth.

"We got t' get Zander out o' there," Alewyth said to the others, her dwarven accent coming to the forefront as emotion roiled over her - she wasn't sure what exactly the plant was doing to the elven sorcerer, but it couldn't be good!  She cast a _bless_ spell over the group in readiness for a concentrated assault.

Thurloe charged forward down the mine entrance tunnel past Peter - who swung at the fighter with his mace but missed - and used his new bastard sword to slice down through the frond connecting Zander to the yellow musk creeper.  No longer tethered to the creeper, Zander nonetheless stood there in a dazed stupor.  Seeing this, Wakuren ran past Peter as well and grabbed up Zander in his arms, dragging him back out of the mine - for Peter had stepped forward to engage Alewyth in battle and the dwarven priestess had strategically stepped away from the mine entrance, luring the yellow musk zombie that had once been one of Wakuren's tormentors out into the sunlight and open air.

The creeper hadn't been inactive during this time, however: sensing another potential recruit within range, it blasted a puff of musk into Thurloe's face, causing the fighter to bend over, choking and coughing.  When he stood back fully upright, though, he felt much better: not a care in the world bothered him, now that he was in the presence of his new master.

Alewyth seemed to be handling the plant-zombie-thing okay and Wakuren had pulled Zander back to safety, so Xandro decided to take out the root cause of this fight and sent a crossbow bolt flying directly into the center mass of the yellow musk creeper.  But then Wakuren cried out in alarm, for as soon as he'd gotten Zander to safety outside the mine and released him, the elf started wandering back towards the plant.  Seeing this, Alewyth backed off from combat with Peter, pulled at a tanglefoot bag from the back of her belt, and hurled it at Zander's feet.  It burst as it hit and exploded in all directions, covering the elf's boots and pants with a sticky substance that quickly hardened in the air, cementing the elf in place - she didn't have time to deal with him, as Peter was once again bringing his heavy mace down upon her.

Wakuren sighed in frustration: they had just rescued Zander and now it looked like Thurloe had fallen sway to the yellow plant's mental influence.  He pulled the cloak from his back as he raced back down the mine entrance, setting it ablaze with his burning torch as he did so.  Then he flung the entire burning mass onto the yellow musk creeper, right as it had been about to attach a frond to the unmoving fighter's head.  The fiery cloak began burning the creeper's leaves but it wasn't out of the fight just yet, blasting another stream of pollen-spores into the half-orc's face.  A few moments of choking and coughing and Wakuren had joined Thurloe among the ranks of willing victims to their new vegetable master.

"Crap!" Xandro cursed, firing another bolt into the yellow musk creeper.  They had to take this thing out - and fast, if they weren't going to all fall under its dominance and become no better than this half-plant thing currently trading blows with Alewyth.

Fortunately, Zander soon regained his senses and was able to rejoin the fight - although he had to do so from where he was standing, for he seemed to have been glued into place by a hardened shell around his legs!  He fired the last of his _magic missile_ spells at Peter, hoping to take him down so Alewyth could go rescue Thurloe and Wakuren.  Alewyth mirrored Wakuren's attack, faking a strike with her warhammer just to get her burning torch into play, setting fire to the tabard Peter wore over his armor.  But she also realized the urgency of the situation, for even now the creeper was placing a frond onto Thurloe's forehead, draining him in whatever way it did.

Xandro cursed as his next crossbow bolt went flying over the yellow musk creeper without so much as parting a leaf.  But while he was doing his best to take down the creeper, Alewyth and Zander were still concentrating their attacks on Peter, although the elf sorcerer was now out of _magic missiles_ and was resorting to _acid splash_ spells instead.

Finally, Alewyth realized they were running out of time and taking down Peter Dublinson was taking far too long.  Pushing her way past the cleric (who swung at her one last time with his mace as she sped past him), Alewyth tried to tackle Thurloe, hoping to pull him free from the frond still draining his intellect.  Behind her, Peter's tabard was now burning fiercely, engulfing him in a cloak of flames, but he hardly noticed, following the dwarven priestess back towards his master to protect it as best he still could.  Alewyth had knocked Thurloe aside and was doing her best to pull the fronds from his face when she too succumbed to a musk puff from the still-burning creeper, not even her dwarven constitution tough enough to withstand this big of a dose from this close of a range.

Back outside the mine, Xandro fired a final bolt at the creeper before deciding he'd have to go into the mine himself and try to save the others.  Zander had no better way of extracting himself from the hardened tanglefoot bag than to wriggle out his boots and climb out of his pants, leaving behind the lower half of a bizarre sculpture as he ran toward the mine entrance in his bare feet, his short robe flapping behind him.  The sorcerer sent another _acid splash_ spell into the back of Peter's head, hoping to take him out before he could put out the fire that would eventually (or so Zander fervently hoped) engulf the yellow musk creeper.

The creeper was slowing down now, as more of its body was engulfed in flames.  It was still attached to Thurloe and it concentrated on making him one of its minions before trying to attach one of its remaining fronds to the other two potential slaves standing patiently before it, awaiting their turns at transformation into plant creatures focused solely upon the creeper's survival.  But the connection was suddenly severed as Xandro's rapier cut the frond connecting Thurloe to the yellow musk creeper, and shortly thereafter the fighter regained his own mental freedom, although his mind was fuzzy and he had no idea exactly what was going on all around him.  Had he been drinking again?  It was hard to remember.

Peter was now a blazing inferno, his hybrid body - part plant but still partially animal - all but consumed in the flames.  It approached the creeper, trying to find a way to put out the flames consuming its master without making matters even worse by the touch of his own blazing body.  Zander sent another _acid splash_ spell his way, as Thurloe suddenly cut loose and raced down a side corridor, to the east.  Once out of spore range, he shook his head, frantically trying to recall where he was and what he was doing, when his attention was diverted by a commotion behind him.  He recognized several of the figures as his friends; the dwarven woman was standing unmoving while some burning plant thing attached a frond to her forehead.  Thurloe couldn't remember why that was a bad thing but he was pretty sure it was, so he went racing back the way he'd come, bastard sword held over his head in both hands for an overhead blow.  A man he remembered was called Xandro was stabbing at the plant mass with his rapier.

Zander, now out of even his least powerful spells, threw a dagger at Peter Dublinson's burning form - why the Hell wouldn't he just die already?  But then the thing that had been Peter did finally collapse to the floor, although whether it had been the result of Zander's thrown dagger or the fire finally engulfing him totally was difficult to say.  He dropped his mace and his shield, the fire not having done anything to either yet beyond warming them up considerably.

With a roar of fury, Thurloe charged into the yellow musk creeper, his new bastard sword slicing it from top to bottom, cleaving it in twain as half of it burned away to nothingness.  Upon its destruction, Alewyth and Wakuren snapped back to full consciousness, shaking themselves out of their stupors.  "Let's get out of here!" suggested Xandro, leading the way back south to the open air.  The others followed suit, Wakuren taking the time to grab up Peter's fallen shield on the way - no reason for a shield of such quality workmanship to go to waste!

Once back outside, the five heroes took stock.  Both Zander and Thurloe had been drained of a portion of their intellect, the elf having fared much better on that front than the human, while Alewyth had been completely able to resist the creeper's efforts even after it had attached a frond to her face.  After having examined the two of them, she announced it was likely they'd gradually be restored to their normal level of mental acuity, although it was possible the recovery time would be measured in days.  "There are spells that can speed up the process, but they're currently beyond my ability to cast," she explained, and Wakuren admitted they were currently outside his own spellcasting abilities as well.

As a group, they decided to give the outer buildings a thorough exploration, partly because they had yet to hit them all but mostly to allow the yellow musk creeper and its minions a chance to burn fully to the point there'd be no chance of any of them reviving.  There wasn't much to see, though; the unexplored buildings proved to be the abandoned remains of a bunkhouse, a mess hall (with attached kitchen and pantry, both bare save for some old stains), and a latrine pit.  Zander discovered a deck of playing cards tied together with a bit of twine and was pleased at his discovery, pocketing them into his robes.

"Do you want to take time out to go get some pants?" Alewyth asked, and the elf looked down at his bare legs.  "Oh yeah, good idea," he answered, trotting back to the wagon to fetch a spare pair of trousers from his gear.  He didn't have any spare footwear, though, so he'd have to go barefoot until they could find a pair for purchase somewhere.  Wakuren set down his old shield, wielding the one Peter Dublinson had carried; it was of much finer craftsmanship and the half-orc considered it just payment for the treatment he'd received at the hands of Peter and his band of like-minded bigots who couldn't stomach the idea of a half-orc mongrel being initiated as a cleric of the All-Father.

Once Wakuren and Alewyth had seen to any necessary healing spells, the group opted to check out the rest of the mines, just in case there were any needlefolk still about - or worse still, any other creatures hanging about with yellow flowers growing out of their bodies.  But once at the ashes of the yellow musk creeper, Thurloe opted to go to the right - the same way he'd run when first freed from the creeper's embrace - while Alewyth, Wakuren, and Xandro wanted to check out the natural chasm.  Zander opted to go with Thurloe, despite being warned it would be better to stick together.

As a result, while the other three climbed down into the lower chasm that had been breached by the mine tunnels, Thurloe and Zander struck off on their own, going first east and then north along another perpendicular tunnel.  This one would have also pierced the natural chasm had it extended another 20 or 30 feet or so, but it came to an abrupt dead end, the vein of silver apparently having given out there.  And thus it was they were off by themselves when the two intruders who had made the abandoned silver mine their temporary lair came to see what had been causing all of the racket here at the front of the mines.

Thurloe and Zander were facing the dead end when they were made aware of the presence of the other two by a javelin crashing against the dead end wall, missing Thurloe's ear by a matter of inches.   Spinning around to face this new threat, the sorcerer and fighter saw a strange sight indeed, for blocking their way out of the dead-end tunnel was a hulking bugbear, morningstar in one hand and another hand raised at shoulder level.  Behind him, riding in some sort of leather harness, was a green-skinned woman of hideous countenance, passing another javelin to him from a quiver she wore on her back.  The bugbear took the proffered javelin and readied his arm for another throw.  Thurloe couldn't reason why this should be - it was so hard for thoughts to flow since he'd been fighting that plant thing! - but both the bugbear and the hag on his back had a stripe of thick paint or something down their foreheads.

But although Thurloe's reasoning capabilities were currently hampered, his combat instincts were still very much in place.  Before the bugbear could throw his second javelin, Thurloe had charged down the tunnel and sliced down the bugbear's torso with a sword-strike that cut him diagonally from chest to hip, blood spurting from the wound like a fountain had just been activated.  He stepped back, not wanting to be painted in the bugbear's blood or slip on it beneath his feet, and as he did so a dagger came flying from behind him to strike the bugbear in the throat.  Just that quickly, *Skullcleaver* fell onto the stone floor of the mine, quite dead.

Over in the chasm, the other three heroes were exploring; Alewyth's keen darkvision had picked up a natural pool of water and they were heading over to check it out, when all of a sudden the ground before them split silently open and a strange monstrosity was vomited forth from the earth.  The squat thing was built like a barrel, with three thick legs, three sturdy arms, three eyes spaced equidistantly around its body, and a single, gaping maw filled with sharp, almost crystalline-looking teeth at the top of its body.  Its dark eyes gleaming in the light of the clerics' torches (for Xandro, being a mere human, lacked the darkvision both of the clerics enjoyed as part of their respective racial heritages), it bent towards them and rasped in a barely-discernable version of the common dialect, "Eat you?  Eat you leg?"

"No, you may not eat my leg!" Alewyth replied, but Xandro wasn't in the mood for any discussions; he let fly with a crossbow bolt that bounced harmlessly off the xorn's thick-plated exoskeleton.  Wakuren crossed the distance between them and tried bringing his new shield crashing down upon the xorn's head, but the odd creature was surprisingly spry for having such a squat, bulky build and it easily dodged out of the way.  "Eat you shield?" it suggested, perhaps thinking the half-orc's actions had been nothing more than the offering of a snack.  Xandro shot another bolt at the thing but missed it entirely.

*Grindelzia* the green hag looked up from the harness on the back of her just-slain bugbear companion and complained at Thurloe and Zander, "You little idiots!  You just killed my riding mount!  Which one of you two is going to take his place?"  And it was at that moment the two heroes looked down at the hideous crone's legs and saw both ended just below the knees.

Thurloe's instincts kicked in again; in some ways the lack of being able to overthink things was almost an advantage.  Without fully processing the concepts that hags were generally of an evil bent, Thurloe decided this one needed to die and he brought his sword crashing down upon her.  But the leather harness had a quick-release strap and Grindelzia had it in hand as she'd spoken; quick as a wink, she had scrambled across her slain mount's body and Thurloe's bastard sword did nothing more than further desecrate Skullcleaver's already sliced-up body.

Thurloe hefted his sword back over his shoulder for another overhand swing when he saw the green hag was no longer anywhere to be seen.  Instead, there on the floor before him was a little girl of maybe eight years.  "Oh, thank goodness!" the little girl cried.  "I thought that big, hairy man was going to eat me!  He put some kind of spell on me to make me look scary, but you saved me from him!  Thank you, oh, thank you!"

Zander scowled down at the little girl and pointed a thumb at Thurloe.  "He may have lost most of his marbles," the elf said, "but I've got enough common sense left to know you're not pulling a fast one on us that easily, witch!"

"Yeah, and even I know you're the witch!" Thurloe added, before turning to the sorcerer and asking, "She is, right?"  Zander nodded in response.  "I knew it!" Thurloe declared triumphantly.

Back in the chasm, Wakuren had come to the realization the xorn wasn't trying to eat them, it was just hungry - and hungry for metal, not for flesh.  Alewyth pulled a handful of silver coins from her purse and tossed them to the xorn, who gobbled them up greedily.  "Silver good," it enthused.  "Gold better," it added, hoping these fleshy beings could take a hint.  It turned out they could; Xandro and Wakuren each fished out four pieces of gold and tossed them at the xorn, making themselves its new best friends in the process.

"I'll bet you this guy's the reason the mine closed," Wakuren opined.  "He probably ate the veins of ore!"

"No," the xorn answered.  "Flesh things gone, I come.  Scraps left only.  Lost, no home."  The xorn's vocabulary was limited, but it managed to get across the idea it had come to this world by accident (probably through a temporary rift between the planes, Alewyth suggested) and that the mine had already been abandoned when it arrived.  It survived by eating the unmined scraps left behind when the miners shut down their operations.  Wakuren decided he didn't like the way the xorn kept looking at his and Alewyth's metal armor or his new shield, and offered up there was a set of armor available on the body of Gryff, if the xorn was interested in a little variety in its diet.  "It's steel, not silver," the half-orc promised.

"Steel good," the xorn agreed.  The trio returned the way they'd come, their new friend in tow.

Zander, in the meantime, had tried slipping past the "little girl" but Grindelzia was having none of it.  She swiped at him with her ragged claws, her body dropping the illusion she'd summoned.  Not only did her claws strike true, but Zander felt the strength draining from his body.  "You!  The other one!" Grindelzia called to Thurloe.  "I'll gut your pal here if you don't do as I say!"

But Thurloe was beyond simple reasoning at this point and answered with the blade of his weapon.  "You wouldn't hit a poor, defenseless cripple, would you?" pleaded the green hag, putting every ounce of pathos into her voice as she could.

"Yep, I would," Thurloe replied, raising his sword for another strike.  Zander took the opportunity to scramble backwards out of range.

"Wait!" called Grindelzia, scrambling for another tactic.  "If you kill me, you'll never find the hidden treasure!"

"What treasure?" Thurloe asked, curious despite himself.  Even with his limited intellectual capabilities at present, he recalled very distinctly that money was a very good thing to have.

"Thousands of gold pieces!  All buried away where you'll never find it!  But I know where it is, and I can get it for you!  But I can't do that if I'm dead, can I?"  Thurloe gave it some thought and try as he might, he couldn't dispute that logic at all.

"Where is it?" Thurloe demanded.

"It's at the bottom of the xorn's pool of water!" Grindelzia explained, wanting more than anything to gain the freedom of the pool of water, where she knew they wouldn't be able to follow but where she, with her waterbreathing capabilities, could easily wait until they went away, frustrated.  But first she had to explain to these two idiots what a xorn was and how to get to the pool of water.  "One of you will have to carry me, though," the green hag added, putting all the sadness and helplessness she could into her voice.

Fortunately, although it was hard to say whether the mentally-drained pair of heroes were about to be convinced to follow the green hag's scheme, the other heroes (and their new xorn friend) arrived on the scene.  Alewyth scowled in puzzlement at the sight of the crippled green hag - surely Thurloe and Zander hadn't done that to her?  "What's going on here?" the dwarf demanded.

Zander had his dagger out, having retrieved it from the bugbear's throat.  "This witch is trying to trick us," he said almost nonchalantly, before advancing upon Grindelzia with his dagger in hand.

"Wait!" demanded Grindelzia.  "Let me say one last thing in my defense!"  When the heroes hesitated, the green hag smirked and called out, "_Aktivatikus!_  Destroy every living thing with feet in the mine complex!"

"What's that?" Alewyth cried out, hearing the heavy tread of footsteps echoing from behind her.  Then, sudden realization dawning upon her, she ran back to the intersection where the side tunnel hit the main entrance and sure enough, the statue of Aerik had come to a modicum of life, clomping down the tunnel to slay all within - all but Grindelzia, that is, who had no feet and could easily prove it.  "That's just not right!" the priestess swore, as Xandro fired a crossbow bolt at the animated statue of Alewyth's god.

"Give me safe passage out of here and I'll shut it down," the green hag promised.  Wakuren activated his _ring of invisibility_ and started a slow and careful approach towards the green hag.  Thurloe advanced upon the green hag with sword held high, but a swipe at his ankles with her jagged claws kept him at bay.  "Ah-ah-ah, naughty boy!" Grindelzia chided.  Then, not wanting to wait for these clowns to realize their best interests led to keeping her alive, she started crawling in the direction of the natural chasm and the pool of water that would likely become her only salvation in this situation.

"I can't keep it back!" Xandro called to the others as the animated statue reached the ashes of the yellow musk creeper.  The bard backed away as the Aerik statue stomped into view.

"Make it stop," Thurloe told the green hag.  "We'll agree to your truce."

"I don't think so," Alewyth interrupted, casting a _sanctuary_ spell upon herself.  The spell, she realized, had one chance to work upon anyone wanting to attack her - it could work fine on one person but be completely ineffective against the next.  But if it held against any one individual wanting to cause her harm, that person would be unable to attack her from that point on until the spell's full duration ran out.  Of course, if she herself attacked anyone while the spell was still in effect the magic drained away at once, but Alewyth wasn't planning on attacking anyone.

Instead, she stepped directly into the path of the animated statue of Aerik, God of Earth and Protection, her patron deity.  In her heart, she was certain her god would not let a dutiful priestess in His service die in such a manner.  And in that she was correct, for the statue was apparently unwilling to strike at her as it had been commanded to do, and with Alewyth standing in the middle of the tunnel it was unable to get by her to get to the others it could clearly see behind her.  Unable to follow its instructions, it remained motionless before the priestess wearing the same holy symbol around her neck as the statue had carved into his stone armor.

"Uh oh," Grindelzia said, knowing what this event presaged.  And she was right, for Thurloe's bastard sword came crashing down, slaying her instantly.

"The armor's out there, outside of the mine," Xandro told the xorn.  "You'll need to get past the statue thing, though."  Without another word, the xorn slipped into the rock at its feet (and the stone floor sealed up seamlessly above it, the bard noticed with puzzlement), and the xorn earth glided its way beneath the Aerik statue, not rising until it had found it way outside, where it happily began dismantling Gryff's charred chain shirt armor one bite at a time.

Alewyth, knowing the limited duration of her _sanctuary_ spell, volunteered to lead the animated statue on a merry goose chase if the others wanted to give the rest of the mine a quick check-out to ensure there were no other needlefolk about.  She ran back towards the natural chasm, secure in the knowledge that as the person currently closest to it, it would naturally come after her first.  She slid down the side of the chasm, hearing the statue clomping behind her as she ran down the length of the chasm.  She scrambled back up the rise, knowing her weight was nothing compared to that of the statue, which she hoped meant it would have a slightly more difficult time in climbing back up out of the chasm, as the sloping rock face broke away beneath its greater weight.  Sure enough, events played out as she'd envisioned and she met back up with the rest of the group some scant minutes later.

"Let's go!" Xandro enthused, eager to be back out in the sunshine.

"Find anything else?" Alewyth wanted to know.

"The hag had some stuff," Wakuren answered as they exited the mine.

"What's going to happen to the statue?" Xandro wanted to know.

"Eventually, it'll get out of the chasm, discover there's nothing inside the mine with feet, and it'll resume its post outside the mine," Alewyth answered, hoping she was right.  She hated the idea that she'd been responsible for trapping an animated statue of her deity inside the chasm.  Even if the mine was no longer in use, a statue of Aerik deserved to be stationed outside the area it was protecting.

"Now where?" Zander asked as they returned to the horses, mules, and wagon.  He was hoping the next town over would have a place he could buy another pair of boots, or failing that, at least some sandals.

But even Thurloe's currently diminished intellectual capabilities weren't enough to allow him to forget something as important as money.  "No!" he called out.  "We have to go back to Moon Creek - they still haven't paid us for taking care of their needlefolk problem!  That money's all ours now!

 - - -

Ah, it was good to be back to our gaming sessions!  Now that school's out and we've all been vaccinated, we're going to try for a weekly schedule as the default, skipping weeks as needed as events come up.  (Case in point: while we're planning on gaming next Saturday, on the one after that Dan and Vicki will have relatives visiting so we'll skip that weekend.  And Logan's "Raiders of the Overreach" sessions will start back up this Wednesday, but then skipping the week after that because I'll be out of town on a trip for work.)

Much like I did in the "Kordovian Adventurers Guild" campaign, I decided I wanted each PC to have a sort of "signature magic item" fairly early in this campaign.  Thurloe's _+1 bastard sword_ and Wakuren's _+1 heavy steel shield_ are the first two such items, with others to follow in the next couple of adventures.  And all five of these items will increase in powers and abilities over the course of the campaign.

This was a fun adventure to run to get us back into the swing of things after a five-month break.  I was somewhat surprised that the yellow musk creeper and zombies gave the PCs as much of a problem as they did, and then that the bugbear and green hag combo went down without much effort at all.  But we all had a good time with the adventure, even if Thurloe ended up with a 5 Intelligence and Zander had a 10 Intelligence and a 7 Strength after running up against not only the creeper but the green hag as well.  Still, despite not having access to _restoration_ spells, the way this campaign is set up we can easily fast-forward a sufficient number of days having passed before the next adventure for everyone to be restored to their normal ability scores.

Incidentally, the stripes on the foreheads of the bugbear and green hag were made up of an alchemical paste that granted them the equivalent of a _hide from undead_ spell effect that worked against plants instead of undead.  Thus, with their paste in place, they could pass right by their yellow musk guardians without triggering any attacks.  The PCs gathered up a jug of the stuff; we'll see if it comes into play at all in the future.  They also gathered up the hag's notebooks, where she'd been working on a regenerative formula she hoped would grow back her legs, which had been bitten off by the bulette that wiped out her covey, leaving her as the only survivor.  Some of the ingredients were needlefolk plant matter and the remains of a human slain and subsequently transformed into a yellow musk zombie, that had subsequently collapsed into deliquescence.  I doubt _that's_ going to be of much use the PCs, but if they ever need a yellow musk creeper there's one growing, unnoticed, out of the corpse of the horse the PCs slew....

 - - -

T-shirt worn: Lacking anything more appropriate, I went with my "Chaotic evil means never having to say you're sorry" T-shirt - it meshed well with the bugbear and green hag that were the main opponents in this adventure.


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## Richards (Jun 20, 2021)

*ADVENTURE 9: NO BONES ABOUT IT*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 2​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 2​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 1/paladin 1​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 2​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 2​
Game Session Date: 12 June 2021

 - - -

Life as an adventurer was beginning to show it wasn't all daring exploits and violent combat - there were, on occasion, weeks-long stretches where nothing much seemed to happen.  This was especially true when you were a dreamwalker dealing with a dream plague that was spread across a continent and you traveled only at the speed of your mule-driven wagon.  It had been over a week since the group of dreamwalkers had dealt with the plant monsters - the needlefolk, yellow musk creeper, and the shambling monstrosities it had made of those who had first tried to slay it - in the abandoned silver mine outside of Moon Creek.  In the days since, it had been a steady trek along various northbound roads, the westernmost peaks of the Shieldwall Mountains always within view as they camped each night in a different inn or tavern, just to head out again the next morning.

Part of the problem, as the Queen of Dreams explained during one of their nighttime training sessions, was that while the adventurers could access any dream they wanted while in the dreamlands, experience had shown they weren't going to be able to awake the dreamer from his slumber unless they were there at hand, using the dreamstones they'd gathered and had had shaped into focus items by the dwarven gemcutter Kerndell Lapidarius while back in Port Duralia.  Otherwise, the heroes' task would be greatly eased, for they could simply flit from dream to dream and deal with each in turn.  Stuck having to go to each dreamer on the Material Plane meant the task took that much longer.  All the Queen of Dreams could to was to track each dreamer back to his or her point of location on the Material Plane, and while she had no way of determining who exactly was having that particular dream she could at least steer her team to the location of the next-nearest dreamer.  Fortunately, the continent of Armaturia was more heavily populated along the edges, near the Shieldwall Mountains that ringed most of the land mass; much of the continent's interior was unpopulated.  That meant the team could make a clockwise circuit around the continent, rescuing those people trapped in their dreams in a somewhat orderly fashion.

At the moment it was nearing midnight on the group's eighth day of travel since the silver mines and each was fast asleep in a separate room in an inn nestled just inside the border of the small town of Bastlethorpe.  But though their physical bodies were resting, their minds were fully active, currently housed in dream-bodies made of the same stuff forming all dreams, and they were receiving their nightly lesson from Mogo, the moogle who was their primary dreamwalking instructor.

"Okay, listen up, kupo!” said Mogo to the five heroes assembled together in the Dreamlands, each in a body looking identical to their real bodies back on the Material Plane.  "Tonight we're going to learn to do something one of you has already done once by accident, kupo!"  He took the group through a door and ended up in a long hallway filled with closed doors butted one right next to each other.  Indeed, Alewyth instantly recognized this as the area she was lost in when her moogle guide Calliope first found her and introduced her to the Queen of Dreams.

"Remember when the Queen flew us to the field of floating dream bubbles on her Butterfly Throne, kupo?" Mogo asked his students.  "Well, that's only one way to visualize the dreamfields and this is another way, kupo.  Behind each of these doors is an individual dream, kupo!"

At Mogo's urging, each hero opened a nearby door and saw a different dreamscape beyond the doorway.  "Finding how to get to the hallways is the easy part, kupo!" warned Mogo.  "Tonight we're going to learn how to navigate through the hallways to find individual dreams, kupo!"

And that's what the group did for the next hour or so: trudged endlessly up and down various hallways, learning how to find specific dreams based on a number of things: the general type of dream, or the origin of the dreamer (Thurloe was surprised to learn there were entire hallways of doors dedicated to dreams from people on entirely different planes of existence), the emotions behind the dream, or even some of the primary aspects of the dream.  The hallways were sometimes - but not always - marked; Alewyth furrowed her brow as they took a shortcut through the Hallway of Dreams About Penguins to get to the Hallway of Dreams Where You Forgot To Study For Your Exam.  The locations of the hallways compared to each other didn't seem to make a lot of sense but Mogo explained the hallways could be reordered however you liked with a strong enough will behind it.  He demonstrated by having the Hallway of Sexy Dreams fall away and be replaced by the Hallway of Dreams of Dancing Animals.  Xandro caught himself looking wistfully for where the old hallway might have had gotten off to, then started blushing fiercely.

And then, just that quickly - he vanished.

"Hey, kupo!" Mogo complained.  "We're not done with the night's training, kupo!"

Alewyth opened her mouth to offer a word of defense for the young bard but then vanished before getting even a single word out.

"Oh, I see what's happening, kupo!" Mogo sighed.  "Something's waking you up in the Mortal World, kupo!  Oh well, I guess that's all for--"

Thurloe didn't get to hear the rest of the moogle's sentence, for he found himself back in his small room in the inn, being awakened by a frantic knocking on the door.  He threw off his bedsheets and unlocked the door, after ensuring his bastard sword was well within reach should he need it.  "What's the bother?" he grumbled at the panicked-looking man standing in the doorway before him.

"You're the adventurers, right – the ones with the clerics?" the man asked frantically.  "You gotta head on over to the graveyard – there's a sinister-looking fellow down there, breaking into the Scarsdale Mausoleum, and he's got some kind of bone-dog with him!  I dunno what all he's up to, but it can't be good – don't nobody goes into the Scarsdale Mausoleum in the dead of night without a member of the family present, and this guy's no family member I ever seen before!"

Thurloe buckled on his armor as the man woke the rest of the team.  It turned out the man, *Jurgas Gremblin*, earned a little extra money on the side tending to the grounds of the graveyard.  He had heard there were adventurers in town and figured the clerics would want to know about someone trying to disturb the dead.  The graveyard was merely a few blocks away from the inn, so the group didn't bother with their mounts or wagon, merely gathered up their gear and let Jurgas lead them to the graveyard.  On the way there, he explained the Scarsdales were an old family that had been founders of the town; most of their dead were buried in their own mausoleum at the graveyard, and that there were no longer any Scarsdales living in Bastlethorpe; Jurgas thought there might be some distant cousins living in Baron's Haven who came and paid their respects when they were in the area, but that was about it.  Once the graveyard was within sight Thurloe thanked the groundskeeper for alerting them to the situation and warned him he'd best hang back, out of trouble.  Jurgas was only far too willing to agree.

The moon was hidden behind a thick bank of clouds, leaving most of the graveyard in darkness.  Of course, this meant nothing to Wakuren or Alewyth, whose racial heritages allowed them to see perfectly fine even in the darkest of environments, but Zander pulled his _everburning torch_ out of his pack and gave it to Xandro, knowing the human bard's vision wasn't anywhere near as capable of seeing in areas of poor lighting as the elf's own low-light vision.  Plus, the elven sorcerer wore a _scout's headband_; he could activate its powers and grant himself full darkvision for an hour if he wanted to.

"Anybody see anything?" Xandro asked as he tucked the _everburning torch_ behind the strap holding his crossbow in place across his back; the flames were pressed flush against his shoulder but couldn't possibly burn him, being merely illusory in nature.

"I see the bone-dog," Alewyth replied, squinting ahead into the darkness.  "He's standing at the foot of the steps leading down into the large building at the back of the graveyard, what must be the Scarsdale Mausoleum."

"Is he doing anything?' the bard pressed.

"Nope, just standing there.  Moving his head back and forth - keeping guard, would be my guess."

The team moved forward as one, taking it slow and cautious in case there were any other potential foes about.  Once he could see the "bone-dog" - a skeletal wolf with the odd scrap of muscle or skin hanging off its otherwise stripped-clean carcass - he pulled the crossbow from his back (shifting the _everburning torch_ to the strap holding his lute on his back in the process), and sent a bolt flying at the undead guardian.  It hit the skeletal wolf in the base of its cranium but bounced off, seemingly without causing the undead guardian any concern.  But the wolf had already seen the approach of the five, for the gaze of twin red lights in its otherwise empty eye sockets were already focused in their direction.

Alewyth continued advancing along with the others, her warhammer gripped in both hands and ready to bring to bear as needed, but she let the prayers of a _bless_ spell spill from her lips as she stepped forward.  "Aerik the Ever-Watchful, guide us and watch over us as we willingly enter ourselves into unknown dangers," she intoned.

As if triggered by the priestess's spell, the skeletal wolf sprinted forward, jaws snapping at Alewyth.  But the dwarven cleric easily dodged the incoming attack, pivoting off to the side so the lupine teeth clamped onto nothing but air.

Zander Quilson hung back from the others as combat commenced, taking a moment to cast a _mage armor_ spell upon himself as he had no illusions about his own capabilities as a front-line combatant.  At his side, Thurloe Pulver dashed forward, his bastard sword swinging in a graceful arc as he ran, ending in a powerful stroke that chipped bone as it hit.  The wolf involuntarily slid back from the blow, even as Wakuren ran up from the beast's other side and tried sending his new shield slamming into the undead thing's side.  But the undead wolf skeleton ducked low beneath the half-orc's strike, the shield's bottom edge making a scraping noise across the wolf's spinal column in passing.

Another twang from the side indicated Xandro's next crossbow attack, but this bolt got caught up between the wolf's exposed ribs to little effect.  Alewyth sent her warhammer crashing down towards the wolf's head, hoping to crush its skull, but it was a nimble little thing despite being dead and all.  It snapped at the priestess again but Alewyth showed the undead thing it wasn't the only one capable of dodging from incoming attacks.

Another bolt came streaking in from behind the combatants, this last one a _magic missile_ hurled by Zander Quilson, opting to remain far away from the snapping jaws of the undead wolf.  But he needn't have worried, for Thurloe made quick work of the thing with another swing from his new magic bastard sword, _Spellslicer_.  Alewyth and Wakuren glanced around in all directions, making sure there were no other undead abominations about, the dwarven priestess even making a circuit around the Scarsdale Mausoleum to ensure they were still alone; such seemed to be the case.  Wakuren cast a _virtue_ spell upon Zander, as was becoming his habit when anticipating further combat.  Then, activating the power of his ring, the half-orc disappeared from view and stepped invisibly down the steps to the below-ground doors to the mausoleum.

The twin doors were made of thick wood bound in heavy iron and Wakuren found them to be locked.  Zander stepped forward to investigate, wondering if there might not be a secret way into the building.  Alewyth made another circuit around the building, this time examining the marble walls of the structure itself, seeking a hidden way within.  When her excursions brought her back to the building's front, she shook her head.  "Looks like just the one way in or out," she told the others.

"There's a keyhole here," observed the still-invisible Wakuren.  "Anybody have any skills in picking locks?"  Everybody looked around to their neighbors, but lockpicking was a skill none of them possessed.  "_Knock_ spell?" Wakuren asked Xandro and Zander, the only two who might be able to cast the arcane spell.  They shook their heads in negation.  "_Chime of opening_?" Wakuren added, having heard of such magical devices.  Again, nobody had anything of the sort.

"Well, this is ridiculous!" snorted the half-orc, pounding a gauntleted fist on the doors three times in rapid succession.  Then he bent his head forward, an ear to the thick wood.  He smiled an unseen smile as he heard the sound of metal on stone - possibly a crowbar dropped in surprise or something similar - and a muffled voice on the other side of the door asking something that sounded very much like "Um, you want me to get that?"  Wakuren warned the group there was more than one person inside, then called for Alewyth to smash down the doors with her warhammer, stepping to the side as he did so to give the dwarf room.

Alewyth gave it her everything and the warhammer crashed into the door, sending it rattling in place but holding firm.  Still, she reasoned enough blows would eventually allow her to gain entry and she set herself to the task, realizing whoever was in there was now well aware of their attempts to break their way in and the longer it took for her to smash in the doors, the longer they'd have to make their preparations.  Indeed, *Gnoxos the Ossophile* took the opportunity to cast a wide variety of spells in the time it took for Alewyth to finally burst her way into the mausoleum.

Inside, the heroes could see the mausoleum was a single, large chamber the size of the entire building above, with a 20-foot ceiling.  Double doors stood along the middle of both the east and west walls.  Each of the four walls in the chamber held memorial plaques with the names of the Scarsdale family members entombed behind that wall.  Directly ahead, a stone sarcophagus stood on a raised platform at the back of the room, behind it standing a 12-foot-tall statue of a rearing griffon.  The entire place was lit by torches in sconces along the walls.

But the five heroes were not alone in the mausoleum.  Standing along the west wall was a man in black robes, Gnoxos, bending over a row of skeletons laid out on the floor beside their coffins, recently pried free of their burial niches.  A large, sealed urn stood on the ground beside the man.  Two other men looked up at the newcomers over the coffin they'd just now pulled from another niche in the eastern wall.  At their feet were the crowbars they'd used to pry open the sealed hole in the wall where the coffin had been entombed.

Worried about possible invisible enemies in the mausoleum with them, Zander activated his magic goggles and allowed his vision to gain _true seeing_.  He gave the place a quick scan but the only invisible entity that showed up was Wakuren.

Thurloe raced into the mausoleum, charging directly at the nearest figure: one of the workmen lugging the latest unearthed coffin to the floor.  His bastard sword cut the man down before he even fully registered the fighter's presence.  And Thurloe had no qualms against slaying the worker in cold blood, as in his mind anyone willingly desecrating a place of rest of those who had passed on from this mortal coil deserved a quick push off said mortal coil themselves.

Invisible, Wakuren slowly stepped into the room, looking all about him intently.  His ability to _detect evil_ came in handy, as not only the auras of the black-clad spellcaster, the sole remaining worker, and the six human skeletons even now rising up from beside the spellcaster reeked of evil - as fully expected - but strangely, the head of the griffon statue itself.  Squinting as he focused his darkvision, the half-orc cleric realized the evil emanations weren't coming from the carved griffon's head (one eye of which, he noted, was the center of three parallel grooves as if the claw-marks from a distant combat) but the skeletal bat perched upon it.  That in itself was telling, implying the spellcaster was more likely a wizard or a sorcerer than a cleric and the skeletal bat his familiar.  Wakuren informed the closest members of his group of his findings, then became fully visible as he channeled positive energy through his holy symbol of Cal.

The effects of this latter action were instantaneous; as one, the animated skeletons turned and fled away from the outthrust amulet holding the icon of the All-Father.  They bunched along the western wall, getting as close to the far corner as they could.

Alewyth's dwarven vision gave her a good look at the necromancer at the far side of the mausoleum and she didn't like at all what she saw, for the man's skin was an unhealthy pale.  "We might be up against a vampire!" she warned her companions, causing Gnoxos the Ossophile to smirk quietly to himself.  He knew perfectly his complexion was due to keeping nocturnal hours and not any undead status, but if these interlopers were going to ascribe vampiric powers to him, he for one was not going to disabuse them of their foolish notions.  After all, he'd much rather they try coming after him with cloves of garlic or hand mirrors than, say, that fighter's impressive-looking bastard sword that had already slain one of the men he'd hired on to do the heavy lifting in this midnight venture of his.

Xandro got a good feel of the group's overall discomfort at the thought of coming up against a vampire this early in their adventuring careers and switched from his light crossbow to his trusty lute, singing loudly his song of brave inspiration.  He was pleased at the acoustics in the large, open chamber, backing himself into the open doorway as he sang, keeping away from the potential melee combatants.

Gnoxos spoke some arcane syllables and made a summoning gesture with his hands.  Almost immediately, the sound of the flapping of numerous leathery wings came from behind the heroes.  Then, with a series of high-pitched shrieks, a swarm of bats erupted through the smashed-open doors of the mausoleum and flapped around Alewyth, Xandro, and Zander, needle-sharp fangs piercing exposed flesh as the creatures dashed in and flitted about all around them.  "Vampire!" Alewyth cursed, swatting at the bats and now suddenly sure of her initial declaration.  She mentally tried recalling the various ways vampires could be permanently slain; exposure to sunlight was one of them, she knew, but she realized that option wouldn't become available to them for another four or five hours or so.  Unseen by the priestess, the skeletal bat on the griffon statue took flight as well, but not to join its living brethren - rather, it landed upon the left shoulder of its master, Gnoxos.

Alewyth ran forward out of the swarm of flitting bats, casting a _protection from evil_ spell as she did so - it certainly couldn't hurt when facing a vampire!  Zander stumbled forward as well, temporarily escaping the bats long enough to cast a _magic missile_ at Gnoxos; vampire or not, he knew the spell would affect him regardless.  The necromancer winced in pain as the arcane missile hit home.

Thurloe ran across the open room, swinging his bastard sword at the last skeleton cowering in line; as he understood it, they were fair game so long as Wakuren, the cleric who had turned them, didn't attack the skeletons.  It practically exploded beneath his blow, the various bones making up its animated body falling away from each other to clatter along the floor.  Wakuren reactivated the power of his ring and faded from view, stepping forward so Gnoxos wouldn't know his exact location.  If Alewyth was correct and this was a vampire, they'd need every advantage they could get in this fight!

It took extreme effort on his part, but Xandro resisted the urge to swat at the bats flitting all around him, dipping down below the majority of them and stepping to the side without breaking the flow of his magical song.  He looked over at Gnoxos as he did so, wanting to keep what he assumed was their primary enemy well within view.  The necromancer cast some sort of spell upon the skeletal bat on his shoulder, then stepped forward and stood beside the sealed urn on the floor before him.  Following his master's whispered orders the undead bat familiar, *Vespertilio*, flew directly at Thurloe. swooping down at his head and triggering the _vampiric touch_ spell Gnoxos had imbued upon him mere moments earlier.  Life energy leeched out of the fighter, flowing through the undead bat's skeletal body and channeling directly into the black-clad necromancer.  Zander, however, broke ranks and dashed back up the stairs to the surface, fleeing the numerous bats and their wicked fangs.  He fished a healing potion from his pocket as he ran, unstoppering it once he got back out into the open air and he verified none of the bats had followed him back outside.  The, swigging back the potion's contents, he sighed as the dozen or so wounds all over his exposed flesh healed up.

The swarm of bats flapped around in the same general area for a bit before heading over to Alewyth, the physically closest target.  By now she had blood dripping down from a dozen tiny wounds, mostly on her face, neck, and hands.  Once again racing from her leathery-winged tormentors, the dwarven priestess cast a _doom_ spell upon Gnoxos, certain that such a spell would be just as effective against a vampire as it would be had the necromancer still been counted among the living.

Thurloe, angered at the life-draining spell triggered on him by the skeletal familiar, raced up to the necromancer (who was bent over the urn now, unscrewing its top for some reason) and attacked him with his bastard sword.  Gnoxos looked up in time and managed to avoid the worst of the blow, but still his left sleeve was nearly sliced off his robe and his left arm now trailed a line of blood.  Alewyth looked at the spellcaster's bleeding arm in puzzlement; was it possible he wasn't a vampire after all?

Wakuren decided he was going to take the necromancer's familiar out of the picture and swatted at the thing as it flew overhead.  As his fingers brushed the bat's bones, he channeled power through the other ring he wore - a _ring of mystic healing_ - and flooded the beast even with more positive energy than the _cure light wounds_ spell he used as the basis of his attack.  But surprisingly, even this surge of positive energy wasn't enough to slay the familiar - both it and its master were much more powerful than the half-orc had anticipated!  Seeing the bat survive Wakuren's attack - for the cleric popped back into visibility as he channeled energy into his foe - Xandro stopped playing his lute, pulled the rapier from the hilt at his hip, and slashed at the skeletal bat.  It dodged the bard's blade, aided no doubt by its erratic aerial weaving immediately after the half-orc's attack.

In the meantime, the other hired hand, seeing himself being temporarily ignored, took the opportunity to slink along the eastern wall and over to the open doorway, where he hoped to escape into the night.  It was one thing to break into the Scarsdale Mausoleum for a bag of coins but he wasn't willing to give his life for what was to have been a quick night's work and some easy money.  Unfortunately for him, right as he got to the doorway leading up to the graveyard above he was noticed by the bats summoned by Gnoxos's _summon monster_ spell.  He screamed as the bats covered his body, nipping at him with their sharp fangs.  The worker collapsed to the floor and the bats dropped down upon him, feasting for all they were worth.

Thurloe pulled his bastard sword up over his shoulder for another downward slice, but before he could complete the attack the necromancer pulled the lid off the urn and stepped back - and the fighter was momentarily shocked into temporary immobility at what crawled out of the container.  It was human in both form and coloration, but it slithered out of the top of the urn with the sinuosity of a serpent.  The thing was bald, with human facial features - two holes where the eyes would be, a gash of a mouth, a nose, two ears - but it was ridiculously thin, more like a human costume somehow brought to life.  As the boneless creature slithered all of the way out of the urn, it flopped onto the stone mausoleum floor with a wet plop, then pulled itself forward with rubbery arms ending in wayward fingers sticking out in random directions.  There was a slit down the creature's front, from neck to crotch; not only its bones were missing but all of its internal organs.  It pulled itself forward, a baleful moan emanating somewhere from the creature's hollow interior.

While Thurloe stood aghast at the sight of the horrific creature before him, Vespertilio tried flying back to its master.  One skeletal wing entered Thurloe's field of vision and it snapped him out of his trance; with a crash of metal on bone, he brought his sword down upon Gnoxos's undead familiar, nearly shearing off an entire bony wing.  Wakuren finished it off with a bash of his shield, individual bones scattering across the floor as its corporeal body shattered.  Outside, Zander gathered up his courage and sprinted back down the stairs, straight through the flock of bats, and re-entered the mausoleum.

Not having any idea what might affect the boneless undead thing, Alewyth tried the inherent _ray of frost_ ability with which she'd been born but missed entirely.  The boneless splortched forward, making a swipe at Thurloe.  He stepped backwards - quite involuntarily - then steeled himself and swung at it, his blade slicing across the thing's chest and carving a horizontal gash along its front.  The thing had no blood to bleed, but now its front gaped open even further as it crawled across the floor.  Thurloe's face drained of color as he imagined the thing getting a hold of him and wrapping itself around him like an undead cloak, until he was wearing the boneless monstrosity.  The very thought made him cry out in anguish.

Wakuren likewise wasn't sure of what to make of this unusual and unknown undead, but he figured positive energy was the way to strike it down, so strike it down he did: channeling another bit of enhanced positive energy through his _ring of mystic energy_, he cast a _cure light wounds_ spell through that hand and touched the flopping skin before him.  Its undead flesh burned at his touch, falling to the floor and lying there motionlessly as flakes of its burning skin dissolved away, leaving little more than a puddle where it fell.

Gnoxos screamed at the thing's death, all of his plans here having been dashed upon its destruction.  After all, Gnoxos had specifically brought the boneless - formerly a form of undead called a necropolitan - to this mausoleum with the specific intention of fitting it upon one of the animated skeletons of the entombed Scarsdales to grant it greater mobility.  Gnoxos longed to join the necropolitans in their undying forms and had hoped by gaining the boneless's favor he'd be well on his way to immortality.

Now all of those hopes were dissolving on the floor before him.

Xandro stabbed out with his rapier at the black-clad necromancer standing dazed before him.  He hit solid flesh, causing a rent in the necromancer's robes and another bleeding gash in his torso.  Gnoxos barely felt the pain in his mortal form; instead, he glared at Wakuren and promised, "You'll pay for what you've done this night, half-breed mongrel!"  Then the words of a _dimension door_ spell spilled from his snarling lips and he was gone (but not before Xandro gave him another poke with the tip of his rapier for good measure).  The others looked around to see where he might have gone to, but saw nothing.  Zander looked around with his _true seeing_ goggles and announced the wizard was not anywhere within the confines of this chamber.

Outside in the graveyard, Gnoxos stormed off into the night, vowing revenge on the half-orc cleric who had not only slain his familiar but the boneless necropolitan as well.

The bat swarm dissipated soon thereafter, each individual bat making its own way back up the entry stairs and out into the night.  They left behind the body of the second worker, his lifeless form bleeding from dozens of wounds.  That left nothing in the mausoleum chamber to fight but the five remaining cowering skeletons and Alewyth took care of them with a single blast of positive energy from her holy symbol of Aerik.  The skeletons exploded into bone dust.

Wakuren and Alewyth took the time to cast healing spells upon those who needed them as Thurloe bent over one of the coffins and pulled out a ring.  "What have you got there?" Alewyth asked suspiciously, hoping she wasn't going to have to talk her fighter friend out of looting the coffins of those who had been put to rest.

"Signet ring," Thurloe answered, putting it on his finger.  The fact that it didn't automatically resize indicated it wasn't magical in nature.  It did have the Scarsdale crest upon it, though: the head of a griffon, upon which three parallel scratches could be seen across one eye.

"I hope you aren't planning on keeping that," the dwarf cautioned.

"Not forever," Thurloe replied.  "But this is where the Scarsdales are buried, right?  So if there are any traps laid out to guard against tomb raiders and the like, it stands to reason they might be magically warded not to activate by someone identifiable as a Scarsdale - like, say, someone wearing the family signet ring."  Even Alewyth had to admit the fighter's logic was impeccably sound, so she said not a word as the others rummaged through the rest of the exposed coffins, finding enough rings for each of the heroes to wear one.  Alewyth slipped a ring over her own finger, reminding everyone that these were just being borrowed and would be returned upon their exit.  "Works for me," Thurloe replied.

With two sets of double doors to explore and the necromancer possibly behind either set, the group randomly selected the pair to the west.  Like the main doors to the mausoleum, they were locked.  "We're going to have to restore these doors, too," Alewyth sighed as she got a grip on her warhammer and prepared to bash her way through.

"I know the _mending_ spell," Zander reassured her.

Once Alewyth's hammer-blows had shattered the doors, the group saw the room on the other side - and it was not at all what they had expected.  The necromancer was not there, for one thing, but neither were there coffins or tombs on display in the small room just beyond.  Instead, there was merely an open toybox filled with various dolls and stuffed animals, with a dark-haired human girl sitting on the floor before it, a mangy-looking stuffed bear cub grasped in one hand.  The bear only had one button eye; the other was missing.

"Do you want to play with me?" *Eva Scarsdale* asked, tilting her head to one side and putting her hands behind her back - but not before Alewyth's dwarven eyesight picked up the dried bloodstains from fingertips to elbows.

The torchlight didn't reach all the way into the room but Xandro had seen and heard enough to be wary; he held his rapier out towards Eva in case she came too close.  Thurloe did likewise with his bastard sword - no sense in talking any chances in this place of the living dead.

But Eva didn't seem to notice the heroes' distrust.  Her eyes gleaming mischievously, she said, "I know _lots_ of good games!" as she rose to her feet and advanced towards the group.  At the last second she darted forward in a burst of incredible speed, getting past Thurloe's defenses and calling out "Tag!" as she touched him on the leg with a bloodstained hand.

Thurloe said nothing in response but it wasn't from lack of trying.  Of the group, only Zander saw the spooky mist spilling out of Thurloe's mouth and cascading down to Eva, who slurped it up between her dainty teeth.  Not sure what was happening but convinced it couldn't possibly be good, the elf sorcerer cast a _magic missile_ at the little girl and the slaymate hissed in anger at the attack.  Wakuren used the final daily charge from his _ring of mystic energy_ to channel an extra-strong _cure light wounds_ spell on Eva, pushing her away from Thurloe while calling out, "She's evil!" to the others after having read her aura.  Alewyth ignored the fact that this particular undead thing took the form of a little human girl and swung her warhammer at Eva with all of her strength.  Eva's dainty little upturned nose shattered in her face as she staggered backwards from the power of the dwarf's blow.  "Let's leave her alone and get out of here!" called out Thurloe's voice - but little Eva wasn't fooling anyone, for the fighter's stolen voice had come from her own mouth.  Xandro stepped forward and finished off the slaymate, the undead body of an eight-year-old girl whose family used her toys to lure her here to the mausoleum so she'd stop haunting them.  Upon her destruction, Thurloe's stolen voice went floating from Eva's mouth and back into his own.

"Ugh," he said, clearing his throat.  "Let's get out of here, for real!"

"Not all the way out of the mausoleum, surely?" asked Zander.  "That necromancer guy could still be behind the other set of doors."  He stepped inside Eva's playroom and did a quick circuit of the room, until he was convinced there were no secret passageways out of the chamber.

Alewyth was prepared to bash through the pair of doors to the east but upon checking them Thurloe found they were unlocked.  Opening them, he saw a mirror image of Eva's room, only this room had a set of leather-bound books on a long table across the back wall and niches in the walls to the north and south.  These niches all held smaller urns, much too small to house a boneless undead but the perfect size to hold the ashes of someone who had been cremated.  Wakuren examined the name plates beneath each urn and suggested these were likely the remains of the servants who had worked for the Scarsdale family over the years.

Thurloe looked up from the book he'd been examining - it was a history of the Scarsdale family - and grunted.  "Nice.  The Scarsdales get buried in fancy coffins and the servants get burned to ashes.  That's typical."

Alewyth was examining another of the tomes at the fighter's side when she suddenly felt a bite upon her leg.  She and Wakuren gave identical cries of pain as the two tomb motes bit them on the ankles.  Wakuren instinctively set the bottom edge of his shield crashing down upon the head of the creature biting him, squashing it almost flat.  But as the half-orc stepped back, the tomb mote crawled up from its hiding place under the table and the cleric could see its vaguely humanoid body was made up of dust, ashes, and dirt - and a squashed-in head made little difference to a creature not truly alive.

Xandro's blade went stabbing into the tomb mote's chest with little effect, while Zander Quilson sent a _magic missile_ spell flying into the one that had bitten Alewyth.  Thurloe proved the creatures could be killed with a single swipe of his bastard sword, causing the body of the mote fighting Wakuren to explode into its component parts.  Alewyth swung her warhammer down upon the remaining mote but it dodged around the weapon and darted forward again to bite the dwarf a second time.  Out of _magic missile_ spells and not wanting to resort to _acid splashes_, Zander threw his masterwork dagger at the remaining mote, hitting it where one of its eyes would be if it had any.  But that was enough to cause the tomb mote to discorporate, falling into a heap of detritus.  Zander retrieved his dagger, sheathed it, and gave this small room the once-over as well, for it too looked like it had no other exits.

But unlike Eva's playroom, this one _did_ have another way out: a section of urns to the south could be pulled forward and then moved aside to reveal a narrow passageway leading down several steps to a lower elevation.

Wanting more than an _everburning torch_ to light their way, Thurloe activated a sunrod and tossed it down the narrow steps, illuminating the room below.  He started down the steps and was immediately surprised at the blast of cold emanating from below; he warned the others and took the time to put on the fur-lined cloak from his cold weather gear before continuing.  Even thus protected, Thurloe could tell the temperature decreased with each step downward.

"Let me see," Alewyth commanded, calling the human back up the steps so she could check it out for herself.  Sure enough, she immediately saw and recognized the culprit: "It's brown mold," she told the others.  Having grown up in a subterranean city of dwarves, the priestess was well acquainted with brown mold, a fungus which often grew in large patches in hidden corners of the Underdark.  There was a large patch of the stuff on the floor, immediately before three closed chests ringed with frost from the mold's heat-draining abilities.  On the wall above the chests hung a longsword, a battleaxe, an exquisite-looking warhammer, and a heavy steel shield bearing the Scarsdale family crest.

"How do we get rid of it?" Xandro asked.

"Cold'll kill it," Alewyth replied, "but I don't think we have anything that'll freeze it, do we?"  She'd already cast her daily _ray of frost_ and she doubted a spell of that low power would have been strong enough to slay the mold.  The rest of the group acknowledged their lack of cold-based attacks.  "Then we'll just have to scrape it away," she decided.

"I can do that," Xandro offered, using his own dagger and a _mage hand_ spell to scrape the offending mold away to the far corner of the treasury.  Once it was safe to do so, Alewyth stepped forward and pulled the warhammer from its support hooks on the wall, marveling at its fine craftsmanship.  It felt perfectly balanced.  She peered at the writing in the middle of the hammer's weapon-head - in Dwarven script, no less! - and read "_Sjondra, the Sunderer_."  Alewyth stepped to the side to marvel at the weapon, allowing the others into the room to check out the rest of the treasury's contents.

Xandro used his _mage hand_ spell to open each of the three chests, triggering a _fire trap_ spell on the first and a poison needle on the second.  Each of these chests held golden coins, likely numbering into the thousands.  When the bard opened the third chest in the same manner, though, a moaning erupted into the room and a score or more of pasty-white, wriggling worms crawled out of the chest.  Disturbingly, each maggot-thing had a human face.

Thurloe wasted no time bringing his bastard sword to bear upon these writhing larvae.  But his blade had no sooner touched one of them than the whole bunch disappeared from view with an audible pop.  "I'll be darned," the fighter commented to himself.  "The whole thing was just an illusion."  His new bastard sword, he knew, had the ability to slice through illusions upon a single touch.

"What's inside?" Zander wanted to know.

"More coins," Xandro replied, "and this."  He pulled out a jade carving of an animal - a dog, it looked like, with pointed ears and a curving tail.

"It's a cooshee!" the elf exclaimed.  "We used to have a pet cooshee when I was a kid!"

"So what do you say?" Thurloe asked Alewyth.  "Are we keeping this stuff?  We did kind of earn it."  He hoped he'd be able to convince the stubborn priestess that when something good came your way, it was foolish to turn your back on it.

But he needn't have bothered.  "We were meant to have this," Alewyth replied.  "A cooshee statue for an elf who had a cooshee, and a warhammer of dwarven build for a dwarven priestess whose martial training was focused upon the warhammer?  Aerik must have set things in motion for us to find these items."

"Including the money?" Thurloe pressed.

Alewyth gave it a moment's thought.  "It was all found together - I suppose it only makes sense that we were meant to take it all."  Thurloe's mouth gaped open at the dwarf's uncharacteristic reasonableness, but then he broke out into a broad grin.  "_Now_ you're thinking straight!" he approved.

 - - -

I wrote this adventure after having realized I had two clerics in the party and they had yet to meet up with much in the way of undead, with the exception of a few skeletons and zombies in the sewers under Port Duralia.  I decided I might as well throw in a few oddball undead to keep things interesting - and did I ever succeed on that front!  Harry was unnerved by Eva the slaymate (I guess he's encountered plenty of creepy little girls in the anime shows he and Logan watch at night) and the whole group was freaked out by the boneless.  They wanted that thing dead quick, before it could get it into its floppy head to make one of them wear it like a second skin.  (As a mini, I simply cut a human-shaped blob out of paper and drew on a pair of eye-holes and a mouth, then bent it into shape so it was kind of supported by its arms.  They hated it!)

And, quite unintentionally, I got a big plot hook out of how this adventure worked out, for Gnoxos the Ossophile ("Bone-Lover," heh) now has a two-fold reason to hate Wakuren.  I'm not sure when or how, yet, but I'm almost positive he'll need to make another appearance at some point in this campaign.

_Sjondra_ and the _jade cooshee_ (the latter a _figurine of wondrous power_) were intended as Alewyth and Zander's signature items, and had Vicki not come to the conclusion she did I was going to have a friendly apparition of a Scarsdale elder appear before them and hand over the contents of the treasury in any case.  Harry's only slightly miffed that he's now got the only PC without a signature item, but I told him there's a _very good chance_ that his own item might be appearing as early as in the next adventure (as indeed it will be).

 - - -

T-shirt worn: My "WWDD?" T-shirt with Daryl Dixon from "The Walking Dead" pointing his crossbow and ready to shoot - it's one of my go-to shirts for adventures which feature fighting the undead, since that's what Daryl does (living as he does in a zombie apocalypse).


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## Richards (Jul 2, 2021)

*ADVENTURE 10: DEATHBED*

PC Roster:  Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 2
            Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 2
            Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 1/paladin 1
            Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 2
            Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 2​
Game Session Date: 26 June 2021

 - - -

The sun had set over an hour, perhaps even closer to two, before Alewyth pulled the mule-driven wagon into the village of Potter's Creek.  Somewhere in this small village, she knew, they would find the next person who had been trapped in their dreams, unable to escape without help.  But that would likely have to wait until morning, for this looked to be a small farming village and there probably wouldn't be a whole lot of people up and about to ask if there were anybody around the area needing the special kind of assistance only a dreamwalker could provide.

So the best course of action would be to head for the nearest inn or tavern, for in such a building would they not only find the most likely source of information about the location of any trapped dreamers, but also some overnight lodging.  Alewyth's darkvision allowed her to see fine even in the dark of the cloudy night and she spotted a sign ahead above the door to a sturdy wooden building.  "'Smokey Joe's Tavern,'" she read to the others.  "Looks like we found our rooms for the night."

"If they still have any," grumbled Thurloe.  He'd been all for making camp an hour back, even if it meant sleeping in the back of the wagon again; he didn't much like riding by moonlight, where the _everburning torch_ Zander Quilson held for the benefit of the horses and mules made them a target for any bandits who might be lying in wait.  But Alewyth had held firm, certain the directions given to them by the Queen of Dreams herself would get them to Potter's Creek and a decent bed for the night.  The dwarven priestess didn't mind roughing it now and again, but she'd had far too many days sleeping in the back of the wagon and wanted the comforts an inn or tavern could provide.  Plus, in an inn you didn't need to set a watch all night; you could lock your doors and sleep in relative safety and comfort.

"We'll find out soon enough," Alewyth replied cheerily, refusing to succumb to the fighter's grumpy mood.  She steered the mules, Wakuren's Perseverance and her own Mica, to a halt before the building and leaped down from the driver's seat, Wakuren stepping down beside her.

"Stables across the road," pointed out Zander Quilson.  "We can probably keep our wagon there overnight as well."

For now, Thurloe stayed with the horses while the others stepped inside and made their inquiries.  Alewyth was pleased to learn there were three rooms still available, two doubles and a single.  "Well take them," she said, calling dibs on the single room as was only fitting for the sole female member of their little troop.  She passed over the payment from a small pouch of coins at her belt; the rest of their money was stored in a large chest out in the wagon, the main reason Thurloe had opted to stay behind and keep an eye on it.  It was hidden beneath a woolen blanket, but it was much better to be safe than to be sorry in the fighter's estimation.

"I'll bunk with Wakuren," Zander decided, leaving Xandro stuck with the grumpy Thurloe for the evening.  Xandro said nothing about the sleeping arrangements, for his focus was centered on the man playing the lute in the corner of the tavern.  It seemed Xandro had been beaten out this evening, for he often picked up some spare coin providing entertainment in the inns and taverns where they stayed during their travels.  But Xandro wasn't overly disappointed, for the bard - a human looking to have seen forty summers or more - was quite good.  Right now he was playing a wordless melody while the few customers drank their ales at the bar or dined upon the evening's fares at one of the long tables.

"You come with me to see about the wagon and mounts," Wakuren said to Zander, nodding him back outside.  The two of them and Thurloe made arrangements for the overnight care of their mounts and the owner of the stables agreed to let them keep their wagon off to the side of the stables.  Once that had all been taken care of, Wakuren hoisted the chest up onto a burly shoulder and activated his _ring of invisibility_, both he and his heavy burden fading from view.  "Let's go," he said to Zander.  "You open the doors for me - I don't want anybody seeing this chest going inside to our room."

Once everyone had gotten settled into their rooms, they all agreed to meet in the common area and see about some dinner.  There were three barmaids tending to the customers' needs and they brought out a thick venison stew and some hard rolls.  While the others sat at one of the few tables for four, Thurloe went across the room and sat down at a long table and bench, next to a good-looking woman with flowing blond hair.  He introduced himself and asked if she minded if he sat there; she waved him to the bench beside her, giving her name as *Valoria Costernackle*.  She was just passing through town on her way to visit a cousin, several villages to the east.  Thurloe had hoped she might have been a local, for he had wanted to ask her about any potential sleep victims in the area, but now that he was seated here beside her he decided it would be rude of him to leave.  So he started plying her with his best stories of his exploits, hoping to impress her.  She smiled at his tales but seemed rather distracted, her eyes darting away from the young fighter.  With a frown, Thurloe realized she kept looking over at the bard in the corner.

Turning to see what all the fuss was about, he looked at the bard playing the lute.  Okay, so he was a fairly good-looking sort, with a dashing mustache and a goatee that came to a point, and he had a nice singing voice - for he had now started upon a popular ballad about the far-reaching love between a princess and a commoner from the next kingdom over - but dang it, Thurloe was a fairly good-looking sort as well, even if his face was shaved smooth and he couldn't sing worth a darn.  With a sigh, he realized any hopes he might have had at any dalliance with Valoria were unlikely to materialize.  Instead, he dipped his fingers into his bowl of stew, pulled out a decent-sized chunk of venison, blew on it to cool it off, and whistled for the dog sitting by the fire along the eastern wall, on the other side of a suit of full plate armor on display.  The dog trotted over and accepted the treat with a wag of its tail.  Thurloe noticed the dog had several scars on its muzzle; it had seen some combat of its own in previous years.  He gave it a good scratch behind the ears.

"His name's *Devil*," supplied the tavernkeeper, a grizzled old sort who introduced himself as the eponymous *Smokey Joe*.  "We been together since my own adventurin' days, but that's a younger man's game.  Now runnin' this tavern's all the adventure we need, ain't that right, boy?"

Taking advantage of a conversation with the man most likely to know about the local inhabitants, Thurloe asked him if he knew of anybody who'd been stuck asleep for any amount of time.  Smokey Joe scratched his balding head, moved his cigar from one side of his mouth to another, and shook his head.  "Stuck asleep?  Naw, I haven't heard nothin' like that.  Closest I can figure is the old Widow Greene - she been taken to bed for some months now, but then she's gettin' on in age.  Her niece looks after her, so I hear."  Thurloe asked how to find the Widow Green's house and was given directions.

Wakuren was giving the common area a good look-over as well, but in his case he was focusing upon the auras of the people around him.  The bard playing the lute in the corner seemed a decent sort, as did the woman seated by Thurloe and the few late-night visitors to the bar, engaged in drinking and tale-telling.  The tavernkeeper's aura was a bit dark, though, as if evil wasn't anything with which he was unfamiliar; the half-orc vowed to keep an eye on him.  Having been raised in the temple of Cal in Port Duralia, Wakuren knew that simply detecting the presence of evil in a person's aura didn't give one the right to accuse that person of anything, but it was a good indicator of who you might not want to turn your back upon.

Alewyth chatted up the barmaid who brought them their food and drink and got pretty much the same answer Thurloe had received: she wasn't aware of anyone stuck in their dreams, but she did know that *Lavinia Greene*'s elderly aunt, *Hortence Greene*, had been bedridden for some time now.  That seemed like their best bet, so Alewyth vowed to track down this Hortence Greene in the morning and got directions to her house.

Xandro excused himself when the lute player took a break and grabbed a glass of mead.  He went over and introduced himself, shaking hands with the man who gave *Scandolucio* as his name.  He was a traveling bard, much like Xandro had been before being trained as a dreamwalker and sent across the continent to rescue those who couldn't escape from their own dreams.  "That's a marvelous instrument," he said, looking at the lute Scandolucio had been playing.

"This," said the older bard, pulling the lute's strap from over his shoulder and passing it over to Xandro, "is the _Dardolian lute_.  Elven make, several centuries old.  Magic woven right into its wood, or so the legends say; I've been working for years plucking at some of its hidden abilities and figuring out how to make them work."  Xandro gave the strings a few strums, closing his eyes and listening to the perfect tuning each had received.  He handed the instrument back to Scandolucio wistfully.

"I've been enjoying your performance," Xandro said.

"That's good to hear - it's the only reason I perform in the first place," Scandolucio replied.  "Well, that and the occasional free room and board.  And the odd fringe benefit now and again," he added with a slight smirk, making eye contact with the good-looking blonde wearing the travel cloak, sitting by some goof feeding a dog.  They chatted a bit longer, Xandro learning the older bard had also just gotten in that afternoon; he planned on staying a few more days in Potter's Creek before moving on.

Xandro returned to the table and finished his stew when Scandolucio's break was over and he resumed his music.  But eventually the set was over, the food had been polished off, and it was time to hit the sack.  The five heroes said their goodnights and wandered off to their rooms.

Alewyth removed her armor, set her warhammers by her backpack, and sat on the edge of her bed saying her bedtime prayers to Aerik, God of Protection and Earth.  She asked Him to look over their little band and to keep them safe in their travels.  Then she set her head down upon the comfortable pillow and was fast asleep.

"Are you seriously going to sleep in your armor?" Xandro asked Thurloe, who had laid down upon his bed holding his bastard sword in a two-handed grip, the blade's scabbarded tip between his still-booted feet.  He looked, the bard decided, like the ornamental carving one found on the stone coffins of rich warriors.  "That can't be comfortable."

"You know what else isn't comfortable?  Getting stabbed in your sleep because you decided _comfort_ was more important than _protection_," Thurloe retorted.

"You really need that much protection?  In a room with only one entrance, that locks from the inside?"

"You get as comfortable as you like.  I prefer not slipping into bad habits, that's all."  And with that, Thurloe closed his eyes and refused further conversation, determined to go to sleep with armor on and his weapon at the ready.  Xandro shrugged, slipped off his own armor, got himself nice and comfortable and blew out the candle on the nightstand beside him.

In the room between Alewyth and the other two men, Wakuren had likewise removed his armor and crawled into bed.  Zander sat on his own bed, his back against the wall, and closed his eyes.  Elves often slept fully and in such cases usually laid down when doing so, but every once in awhile they preferred entering a reverie, where they could sort through their memories and put them into some sort of order.  Wakuren mentally shrugged and went to sleep.

All was quiet in the tavern until the screaming began.  Xandro awoke at once, sitting upright in the dark of his room.  The snores coming from Thurloe's bed told the bard the fighter hadn't heard anything, so he shook him awake.  The next door over, both Zander and Wakuren snapped out of their own night training (all five had been put to work practicing finding specific dreams inside the endless hallways of dreams).  Wakuren grabbed up his shield while Zander buckled his belt with the dagger sheaths around his waist, over his robes.  One room further down, Alewyth was asleep by herself when she found her consciousness all alone in the hallways of dreams, where only a moment ago her four fellow dreamwalkers had been beside her.  She knew what that meant, though - something had awakened them and it was probably in her own best interests to wake up immediately as well.  Putting to use the training she'd practiced for weeks now, she did just that, found herself back in her room, and grabbed up the first warhammer at hand, not wanting to waste time bothering with her armor.

Zander opened the door, stepped into the hall, and pulled a jade figurine from his pocket.  There was a narrow window above the door at the far end, which the elf knew led outdoors to the two outhouses and could only be opened from the outside with one of the room keys.  As expected, the door was closed and didn't look to have been disturbed.  But the screams were coming from that direction, at the far eastern end of the hallway.  Zander dropped his figurine on the floor before him and the canine carving grew in size, becoming a full-size, living cooshee.  The elven dog looked ready and eager for action, its pointed ears erect at the sounds of the screams ahead.

Behind the elf, the door to Thurloe and Xandro's room opened and the fighter stepped into the hallway, fully armored and lighting a torch the better to see by.  Wakuren entered the hallway behind Zander and immediately faded from view, activating his _ring of invisibility_.  He passed by Thurloe and Xandro's room and tried the door at the end, the door to Room 5, where it sounded like the screaming was coming from.  But the door was locked.

Xandro had taken the time to gear up if not don his armor; he had his lute and crossbow over his back, his quiver of bolts at one hip and his rapier belted at the other.  He pounded on Alewyth's door as he passed, just in time for it to open up and the priestess join their hallway procession.  "We know what's going on?" she asked.

"Door at the end," was all Xandro could offer her.  But that was all Alewyth needed to know; skirting past the others, she brought the head of her old warhammer crashing into the wooden door, near the knob.  The wood splintered but the door still held firm.  Behind her, Zander stiffened: among the screams - which definitely seemed feminine, and filled with pain and terror - he thought he could hear crunching sounds and a masculine moan.

"Go get Smokey Joe!" Thurloe called to Zander, pointing to the door at the other end of the hall, where the tavern owner slept in a room with his dog.  While the elf hurried to comply, Thurloe tried opening the door to Room 4 and the knob turned without hesitation; from the light of his torch the fighter could see it was unoccupied, the bed not having been slept in.  Leaning against one wall was a backpack, though, and the _Dardolian lute_ sat perched on the middle of the small wooden table within the room.  This, then, was Scandolucio's room.

The elven cooshee sat crouched on his haunches, head aimed at the door to Room 5.  Thurloe readied an arrow, its head also pointed in the same direction, as Wakuren shouldered the door open and spilled inside, still invisible.  He gasped at what his darkvision let him see of the room inside.

There were two figures on the bed, although _in_ the bed was probably more accurate, for only Valoria's top half still emerged from the bed, while a pair of hairy legs and arms were all that could be seen of the other figure.  Blood stained the sheets and blanket on the bed...which Wakuren was surprised to see had somehow sprouted teeth and was using to try to chew up the two people caught inside its body-wide mouth.  A word popped into Wakuren's mind: _mimic_, a creature capable of changing its shape into any of a number of innocuous shapes, a bed apparently one of them.  _But how in the name of Cal did a mimic get inside the tavern?_ the half-orc wondered.

Wakuren didn't let his puzzlement slow him down, however.  Dashing forward, he grabbed Valoria by the shoulders and pulled, the body of the man beneath her preventing the mimic's teeth from getting too much of a purchase on her.  _That's what happens when you chew with your mouth full_, Wakuren thought to himself as he dropped Valoria over a shoulder and started backing out of the room, his first thought getting the young woman to safety.

Xandro stepped into the room beside what he assumed was an invisible Wakuren - it was the only explanation the bard could come up with as to why there was a naked woman floating, bent over, through the air - and stabbed the tip of his rapier at the "bed" that was busy chewing up another body.  The mimic didn't particularly like that and sent a hastily-formed, sticky pseudopod slamming into the bard, pulling him forward to be crushed against the mimic's body.

Alewyth then stepped beside the bard, her warhammer crashing down upon the mimic as it pulled the naked man further into its gullet.  Her hammer almost got stuck in the  mimic's adhesive, but she gave it a good tug and it pulled away.

Zander, in the meantime, was pounding on the closed and locked door to Smokey Joe's quarters.  "Something's going on in the room at the end of the hall!" he shouted through the wooden door.

"Probably just somebody havin' a bad dream," Smokey Joe's voice came from the closed door.  "Not my problem.  I ain't responsible for people's dreams.  Just leave 'em alone and they usually go back to sleep soon enough, that's my advice."  But Smokey Joe was sweating at the fact that the five overnight adventurers were apparently all awake and investigating the mimic in Room 5, and just how was he going to explain _that_?  He'd assigned Valoria Costernackle to Room 5 because she was just passing through and her garments said she was fairly well to do; likely she'd have some cash or jewelry on her and she likely wouldn't be missed.  And he could always claim she'd taken off early the next morning if anyone here asked about her.  But somehow these adventurers were now in the thick of it, and that wouldn't do at all.  With nervous fingers, Smokey Joe grabbed the amulet he wore around his neck and summoned the dread guard he kept out in the common area, where everyone just assumed it was a suit of decorative armor.  Upon hearing the mental summons from its master, the dread guard sprang to a semblance of life and started clomping its way through the dining hall, heading for the residential quarter of the tavern.

Back in Room 5, the cooshee had entered the room and bitten the edge of the blanket hanging over the bed, pulling on it as if trying to remove it from the structure.  But as bed and blanket were both part of the same living creature, the cooshee's efforts were for naught.  Thurloe shot another arrow at the mimic, missing again; the arrow stuck into the back wall above the ersatz bed.

Wakuren opened the side door and dropped Valoria to the ground.  He examined her wounds briefly, coming to the conclusion they were mostly superficial; apparently the mimic couldn't do too much damage to her with a mouthful of 40-year-old bard already taking up space.  He cast a quick healing spell on her and suggested she go wait in one of the outhouses, out of harm's way.  Valoria hastily agreed to the idea, slamming the outhouse door behind her and latching it into place.

Xandro struggled to pull himself away from the mimic's embrace, but the adhesive was too strong and the pseudopod had too strong of a grip upon him.  In response to the bard's struggles the mimic tightened his grip even further, expelling the breath further out of Xandro, to the point it was getting difficult to get in a decent breath.  Black dots started forming along the edges of Xandro's vision - that couldn't be good!

Alewyth swung again at the mimic, striking a solid blow with her warhammer and pulling it back before it could get enmeshed in the creature's sticky adhesive coating.  And down at the opposite end of the hallway, Zander gave up trying to convince Smokey Joe to come check on his guests and returned back to where the action was happening.  He cast a _mage armor_ spell upon himself for good measure as he did so.

The cooshee kept his teeth clamped on the "blanket" in his jaws and scratched the mimic's surface with its front claws.  It was getting crowded in the room, so Thurloe pulled back rather than risk hitting one of his friends with his next arrow.  Instead, he headed down the hallway and aimed his arrow at the door to Smokey Joe's room, for the fighter had at this point figured out the tavernkeeper had to be complicit in the mimic's attacks.  As soon as Smokey Joe made an appearance in his doorway, Thurloe intended to send an arrow shooting at his center of mass.

Wakuren stepped back into the hallway and from there into Room 5.  It was too crowded to be able to be able to do much in the way of fighting the mimic, but he could easily reach out and touch Xandro, so he did just that - sending Cal's healing energy into the beleaguered bard through a _cure light wounds_ spell.  If he couldn't help kill the mimic, he could at least prevent Xandro from being its next victim!  With renewed energy from the burst of healing, Xandro tried pulling himself away from the mimic, but he seemed to be stuck fast.  And by now the beast had completely swallowed up Scandolucio, so his mouth was empty enough for the next victim in line; Xandro only hoped the first meal had put off the mimic's appetite for any additional food for some time.

The mimic didn't try biting Xandro, which was a definite plus in the bard's view, but it continued squeezing him, apparently trying to at least kill him and perhaps set him aside as a future meal.  Alewyth attacked again with her warhammer, this time not pulling it away in time - it was stuck fast!  Snarling at her misfortune, she realized her other warhammer, _Sjondra_, was still back in her room.  But by that point Zander had made it back as far as the doorway to Room 5 and was able to cast a _magic missile_ spell directly at the mimic, despite the other combatants there in the room between him and his target.  That was the good thing about the _magic missile_ spell, the elf decided: you just had to be able to see even a portion of your target for you to be able to strike true.

The cooshee continued biting and clawing at the mimic, dealing enough damage to have pierced the beast's flesh in several places, assuming the blood dripping down wasn't Scandolucio's.  Wakuren grabbed Xandro at the shoulder and tugged with all of his might, but even the half-orc's strength wasn't up to the challenge of freeing the bard from the mimic's embrace.  As if finally realizing the futility of trying to escape from a creature much larger and stronger than himself, Xandro suddenly switched tactics altogether.  He got the tip of his rapier aimed directly at the core of the mimic's body (still more or less in the semblance of a bed), and leaned into it.  If he couldn't pull away from the mimic, he'd put all of his strength and effort into pushing toward the mimic as far as he could - with the point of his rapier leading the way!

Alewyth tried futilely to pull her warhammer free of the mimic, but it just wasn't going to happen.  She gave it one final tug and when that didn't do anything she gave up the effort as a waste of her time.  Instead, she cast a _cure light wounds_ spell on Xandro, who was continuously getting crushed by the mimic's pseudopod.  Another _magic missile_ spell went crashing into the mimic and for the first time Zander felt they had a decent shot of slaying the shapeshifting beast before it killed Xandro.  Hopefully, once it was dead it would be much easier extracting the bard - and Alewyth's warhammer - from the fake bed.

But then the door opened at the end of the hallway - not Smokey Joe's door, but the one leading out to the bar area.  Into the hallway stepped the suit of armor that had been on display by the fireplace earlier that night.  It turned the corner and started walking at its unhurried pace down the hallway.  Thurloe released the bowstring of his composite longbow, sending the arrow flying down the hallway to strike the dread guard's armored chest, for he had seen the animated armor draw the sword from the scabbard at its hip and knew it had been sent here to slay those who had witnessed the mimic scam.

Zander cast yet another _magic missile_ spell at the mimic as the cooshee, perhaps sensing the creature's imminent demise, pulled back from the room and ran down the hallway toward the dread guard, whose pace had not slowed after having been shot by Thurloe's arrow.  Wakuren cast another healing spell on Xandro, who was putting his full weight onto his rapier, slowly stabbing it deeper into the mimic's bulk.  In desperation, the mimic formed another pseudopod and slammed it into Wakuren, sticking to the half-orc and pulling him in tighter for a crushing embrace - and away from Xandro, so he couldn't keep supplying him with healing energy.  It might be necessary to kill the half-orc before it could kill the bard, although by this point the mimic was up against far more than it could eat at one sitting; it would have to have the tavernkeeper hide the bodies somewhere before the mimic could dispose of all of them.

Wakuren let out a grunt of pain as the mimic's crushing embrace forced the air from his lungs and his ribs started to feel like they were beginning to crack.  Alewyth, unable to free her warhammer, followed Wakuren's previous strategy and cast a _cure light wounds_ spell on the half-orc, keeping him alive enough he'd hopefully be able to cast his own spells upon himself while the dwarven priestess of Aerik moved over to take over "keep Xandro alive" duties.  Behind her, Zander cast another _magic missile_ spell at the mimic, slowly but surely inching it forward to its eventual demise.

The dread guard kept moving forward and attacked the closest enemy at hand - which turned out to be Zander's elven dog, the as-yet-unnamed cooshee.  It let out a yelp of pain as the construct's longsword cut a gash across its fur-covered back.  Thurloe got in one last shot at the dread guard before dropping his composite longbow in the hallway and advancing, pulling his enchanted bastard sword _Spellslicer_ from his back.

With a roar of defiance, Wakuren broke free from the mimic's adhesive embrace and then - seeing the mimic just about dead by this point - backed away from the room, activating his ring and running invisibly past Thurloe and into his own quarters in Room 2.  He hoped to let the dread guard pass by his doorway and then he'd be able to attack the construct from behind, hopefully catching him in a pincer maneuver with Thurloe and the cooshee.

Xandro continued leaning into his rapier, stabbing it deeper into the mimic's flesh.  At last it realized this was a fight it could not win and it did something it didn't do very often: it spoke, in a deep, halting voice:  "Stop.  No fight.  Release you."  Xandro found himself no longer sticking to the mimic's pseudopod and pulled himself and his rapier away from the shapeshifting monstrosity.  It also spit out Alewyth's warhammer and the dwarf stepped forward to grab it.  "Go now," the mimic suggested.

"Got one wee thing to do first," Alewyth replied, bringing the warhammer swinging up over her head to crash down into the center of the mimic's mass, breaking off a tooth or two in the process.  It was as she had suspected: the mimic's sudden willingness to let them all go was prefaced by its nearness to death - and the dwarven priestess was more than happy to push it over the edge into whatever waited beyond.  The mimic died instantly, its faux-bed form losing cohesiveness upon its death, slowly flowing outwards as if melting into a featureless, sticky mass of goo.

"You okay?" Alewyth asked Xandro and he nodded in the affirmative, too winded from being crushed to catch his breath.  "Then let's go!" the dwarf replied, running back into the hallway to see what the others had been fighting, for she'd heard the unmistakable sounds of combat coming from the hallway behind her.  Xandro followed.

The dread guard swung its longsword at the cooshee again but this time the dog backed off in time, barking furiously at the animated enemy.  But it had continued advancing down the hallway as it attacked, and now Wakuren popped back into view as he brought the bottom edge of his shield crashing into the dread guard's lower back.  He caused the magical construct to lurch forward and almost lose its footing, only to be struck by Thurloe's sword in a sideways swing to the chest.  As it tried swinging its sword at the fighter in return, the cooshee darted back in underfoot and set the dread guard toppling backwards in the hallway, where Wakuren crushed the front of its helmet with his shield and Thurloe stabbed down into its chest plate, piercing the armor.  Together, this assortment of attacks caused whatever magical powers were animating the armor to dissipate away and it lay unmoving on the hallway floor, the longsword dropped from its gauntleted hand.

With nobody visible to fight anymore, Thurloe and Zander made a dash for it down opposite ends of the hall.  The elven sorcerer dashed out the exit door into the crisp night air, heading over to the outhouse to make sure Valoria was still okay.  "I'm fine," she reassured the elf, "but could you bring me my clothes?"  Zander returned to her room to grab up what he could find.

Thurloe, in the meantime, sped through the open doorway to the bar area, verified it too was empty of enemies, and spun about, ready to attack Smokey Joe when he exited his bedroom - for in the young fighter's mind the tavernkeeper had to be the one behind all of these attacks.

Wakuren took a more direct approach.  Stepping up to the tavernkeeper's door, he knocked politely.  "Smokey Joe?" he called.  "We've slain your mimic ally and destroyed your animated armor.  Would you care to come out here and explain yourself?"

There was a moment's hesitation before Smokey Joe answered.  "Mimic?  What mimic?  I dunno what you mean - I don't got no mimic.  And if you're talking about that armor over by the fireplace, it don't move!  Unless maybe there's an invisible wizard mucking about with us!  Yeah - that's probably it!  An invisible wizard!"

"Very well!" Thurloe called out.  "Then we'll just have to spike closed all of the doors to this tavern and burn it to the ground!"

While all of this shouting back and forth was going on, Xandro decided to check out Room 4.  It was unlocked, and sure enough, there against the wall was Scandolucio's traveling pack but more importantly, lying upon the wooden table was the _Dardolian lute_.  Xandro picked it up tentatively, realizing its excellent craftsmanship marked it as a masterwork instrument - even magical, if what the elder bard had said was true.  He put the strap around his shoulder, held it in place, and began strumming the strings with his fingers, beginning the song of courageous inspiration.

Alewyth returned to her room as well and grabbed up _Sjondra_, stuffing the pieces of her armor into her own pack - it sounded like that fool Thurloe was planning on burning this place down and she didn't put it past him to set it on fire before they had a chance to talk him down.

Wakuren was still holding a conversation with Smokey Joe.  "If you choose not to open this door and come talk with us, then I'm afraid I'll have no choice but to smash down the door and drag you out," he warned the tavernkeeper.

"No, no need for that," Smokey Joe's voice came from inside.  "Hang on, I'm coming out!"  By this time Smokey Joe had gotten his old adventuring gear on, the studded leather armor a lot tighter than it used to be back when he was a full-time adventurer, many years ago - back when he still had a full head of hair.  He made a point of noisily putting the key into the lock and twisting it, then swung open the door and falling back, his short sword in hand as he called out, "Kill them, Devil!"

Devil had been well trained by his master.  He leaped forward, biting down on Wakuren's leg and nearly bringing the half-orc crashing to the floor.  But just as quickly the cooshee darted forward, snapping at the guard dog without having even been instructed to do so, for Zander was outside handing Valoria her clothes through the outhouse door.  Thurloe finished off the dog with a powerful downward stroke of his bastard sword, wistfully recalling that a scant hour or more ago he'd been feeding this same dog scraps of venison from his bowl of stew.  Then, a fierce scowl on his face, he stepped through the doorway to Smokey Joe's bedroom, looking for blood.

Wakuren followed Thurloe into the bedroom, swinging around the tavernkeeper and dodging a strike from his short sword as he did so.  The blade glanced off Wakuren's shield, and then he struck that shield smartly into Smokey Joe's face, breaking his nose in the process.  Behind him in the hallway, the sounds of Xandro's tune continued, the bard doing what he could to aid his friends in their fight against the true evil in this tavern.  Alewyth exited her own room and went to see what this latest commotion was all about.

Seeing Wakuren held no weapon, Smokey Joe assessed Thurloe as his biggest threat and tried to take him down fast.  But the years had not been kind to Smokey Joe, nor had the smelly cigars he habitually smoked, and the much younger fighter had no trouble avoiding the older man's slow stab forward.  But the tavernkeeper was focusing on Thurloe while trying to keep Wakuren in his field of vision, and thus missed seeing the cooshee dart forward around Thurloe's feet and snap at Smokey Joe's ankle.  He fell to the floor with a crash, knocking his head against the side of the hard wooden bed on the way down.  It was no trouble at all for the heroes to overpower the overweight man and truss him up with rope fetched from Thurloe's pack.

"Now then," Thurloe began, sticking his snarling face into that of his overweight captive, "let's see about getting some answers.  Start spilling your guts, tubby, or I'll be more than happy to spill them for you."  He hefted his bastard sword to make sure Smokey Joe didn't fail to catch his meaning.

"I don't know what you think I've done--" the tavernkeeper started to sputter, but Wakuren cut him off.  "You're a murderer!" the half-orc spat out.

"I never killed nobody!" Smokey Joe pleaded, then saw that Thurloe wasn't buying his act for a moment.  "It was the mimic what killed them!  And they was only ever vagrants what was just passing by and wouldn't be missed, anyways!"  He gulped and decided to try his luck with a false equivalency.  "And you killed my dog, so that makes us even!"

"Can you believe this crap?  Let's just kill him and be done with it!" suggested Thurloe, raising his bastard sword.  Wakuren placed a hand over the fighter's trying to calm him down.  "We do not slay helpless captives," he cautioned Thurloe.

"Maybe you don't," Thurloe argued and would have gone on had Alewyth not entered the conversation at that point and impressed upon the hot-headed human that they were not killing Smokey Joe in cold blood and that was the end of the discussion.  Thurloe gave the dwarven priestess his very best scowl (and it was, if truth be told, a very impressive-looking scowl indeed) but backed down, sheathing his bastard sword.  Smokey Joe let out a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding - maybe he could talk his way to freedom after all!

But no luck on that front; Alewyth insisted they'd stay watching over their bound captive until morning, when they'd have one of the local townsfolk fetch the sheriff, or whoever represented the forces of law and order in these parts.  That turned out to be a sheriff over in the next village, who was responsible for six or seven villages in all, according to the first of the barmaids who showed up for work the next morning.  Alewyth sent her to go have somebody go fetch him and they all waited for his arrival.  And when he did show up, they were able to give him plenty of evidence as to his past behavior, having spent the evening scouring the entire tavern for evidence - and finding the hidden storage space behind a false crate in his wine cellar where he put the belongings of the people he fed to his mimic.  (Of course, despite there having been dozens of leather and silk coin purses in with the previous victims' clothes in the secret storeroom, Smokey Joe kept the coins he took from his victims in a strongbox under his own bed - a strongbox the heroes had broken into and whose contents they'd taken as their own.  They reasoned it was a way for the previous victims to posthumously thank them for their assistance in ensuring the mimic would take no further victims - and it wasn't like they had any use for the money themselves, nor would it be easy - if even possible at all - to track down the identities of the mimic's prior victims, to see if they had any relatives.  This way was easier and it was logical enough reasoning for the heroes to take the money as their own without any feelings of unease.)

That, plus Valoria's testimony and the body of the mimic was all the sheriff needed to see.  He took custody of the bound tavernkeeper and promised the heroes he'd pay dearly for his crimes.  "I'll have him before the judge in less than a week, and he'll likely be hanged before the week's out," he told them.

"Well," Wakuren said, "I supposed we'd better gather up our mounts and wagon and go check out this Widow Greene's place."

They had no trouble finding the place; the barmaid's directions had been spot on.  Knocking on the door, Alewyth was greeted by *Lavinia Greene*, who expressed surprise at the heroes' presence but admitted that yes, her elderly Aunt Hortence had been bedridden for months, but several weeks ago had fallen into a deep sleep and she'd been unable to awaken her since.  "She's been no bother at all to care for," Lavinia admitted.  "She doesn't even wake to eat or drink, or to use the chamber pot.  You say she's stuck inside a dream?"

Alewyth explained the situation as best she could and told Lavinia what they planned to do.  The young lady agreed to let them go about their business, more than happy to see her Aunt Hortence back awake again after all these weeks.  A dreamstone was fastened at Hortence's forehead by a bandana and each of the five dreamwalkers sat around her bed in a circle, clutching a dreamstone in their hands.  "We'll meet up in the Dream Hallways, as before," the dwarven priestess told the others.  Then they each closed their eyes, calmed their spirits, and one by one went to sleep.

"Hey, kupo!" greeted their individual moogle guides as they entered the dreamlands.  "Here's the dream you're looking for, kupo!" they said, opening one particular doorway in the endless Hallway of Doors.

Stepping inside Hortence's dream, the group was surprised to see Lavinia there, sitting in a fancy gown at an elegant table with a finely embroidered tablecloth.  Hortence was sitting beside her young niece, pouring tea from a swan-necked teapot into a dainty cup.  She too wore an elegant gown, much fancier than the simple homespun nightgown she wore back on the Mortal Plane.

"Good day to you," Hortence said, inviting the heroes to take a seat.  "You are more than welcome to join us...although I don't recall ever having met you before.  It seems odd that I would be dreaming about you."

Alewyth's brow furrowed as she took a seat beside the elderly woman.  "You are aware this is all a dream?" she asked, puzzled.  She'd never encountered anyone who was aware they were in a dream while dreaming; most people threw themselves fully into whatever dream they might be having.

"I have suspected it for some time, yes," Hortence replied.  "But I am also aware that I'm dying.  I have a weak heart, you see, and it's been doing its job for quite a few years now.  All of this," she said, waving her hands to indicate the elaborate tea room around them, "I know quite well this is all just a dream.  And I know I'm really back in my bedroom, fast asleep – in what is no doubt my deathbed.  What I don't know is who any of you are, or what you're doing here, or why I should be dreaming of such complete strangers... unless you're the representatives of Death, Akari's foot soldiers, come to tell me my time is up.  But you're welcome to stay here with me if you like as I say my final farewell to Lavinia, even if it is only here in a dream.  I fear if I wait until I wake up I shall have put it off until too late.  And perhaps you can help me to help my niece in some small way after the dream is over."

Hortence described to the group the location of a small wooden barrel of money buried in her back yard and asked that they dig it up and give it to Lavinia – it was all she had to pass on to her for her years of taking care of her as her health declined.  "It isn't much," Hortence said, "merely 68 pieces of gold, but that's quite a lot to mere commoners like ourselves."  Alewyth agreed they'd do as she asked and explained about the dream plague and how they'd been helping people out of their dreams.

"Very well, then," Hortence agreed.  "Let us finish our tea and then we can go."  She passed tea cups to the others, who all took a seat at the table and spent a few moments in conversation with her.  When all of them had finished their tea, Hortence nodded her acceptance.  "What do we do?" she asked.

Alewyth took her by the hand.  "Just come with us," she said, "through this door."  Xandro had concentrated on making the exit door to the dream visible and he opened it for the elderly lady.  One by one, they exited the dreamscape.  Wakuren was the last to leave and he hung around a bit, wondering what would happen to the dream when the dreamer herself left it.  As expected, it started fading away until he stood in a vast, white emptiness.  Nodding to himself, he stepped through the door as well.  The others were already gone, so he concentrated on waking himself up - and soon found himself back in Hortence's room, sitting in a circle around her bed with the others.

Lavinia was there in the doorway, looking in at the group as they rose to their feet.  "Is she--?" the young woman asked.

"She's passed on," Alewyth informed her.  "She was ready to go but unable to do so on her own.  We merely helped her on her way."

Lavinia looked over at the body of her Aunt Hortence.  A thin smile lie upon the older woman's face.  "She'll be reunited with her dead husband, then," Lavinia said.  "She'll be glad of that."

Thurloe walked outside without a word.  Concerned, Zander followed him.  Sure enough, the fighter grabbed a shovel from their gear in the wagon and went straight to the spot in the back yard where Hortence had told them her treasure was buried.  "Um, what are you doing?" the elf asked.

"Digging up the old lady's treasure," Thurloe answered him, proceeding to do just that.

"You're not thinking of helping yourself to her 68 pieces of gold, are you?" accused Zander.

Thurloe's brows dropped into a scowl.  "Just what do you take me for?" he asked, pulling up the buried wooden barrel and popping off the lid.  Sure enough, the bottom of the container was filled with gold coins.  Thurloe then carried it back to the wagon and dropped in enough coins from his own stash to top the barrel off at an even 300 pieces of gold before placing the lid back on and taking it in to Lavinia.

"You really surprise me sometimes, Thurloe," Zander told him.

"Yeah?" grunted the fighter.  "Best way to prevent that is not to make assumptions ahead of time."

 - - - 

This adventure was fairly short, but that was okay because immediately after it had finished we leveled everyone up to 3rd level.  And Fate decided it wasn't done with Joe just quite yet, for his elven sorcerer, who started game play with 4 hp at 1st level and advanced all the way to 5 hp at 2nd level, now managed to get stuck with 6 hp at 3rd level when Joe once again rolled a "1."  "That's it!" he declared.  "I'm taking Toughness as my 3rd-level feat!"  So Zander Quilson now has all of 9 hp and is guaranteed to definitely hit the double digits on the hit point front...after five more adventures.  I helpfully pointed out that this was simply karmic fate for his PC in "Raiders of the Overreach," a 12th-level (at the time of this adventure) dwarf barbarian with 204 hp, thanks in part to his whopping 29 Constitution.

 - - - 

T-shirt worn: My red "Coke" T-shirt.  I didn't have anything particularly relevant to this adventure so the best I could come up with is Coke is a refreshing drink and the bulk of the adventure takes place in a tavern, where they serve refreshing drinks.  Plus, one particular Coke slogan is "It's the real thing," which exactly what the mimic disguised as a bed wanted everyone to believe.


----------



## Richards (Aug 10, 2021)

*ADVENTURE 11: FARTHINGALE'S FORTUNES*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 3​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 1/paladin 2​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 3​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 3​
Game Session Date: 7 August 2021

 - - -

"You folks headin' into the barony?" asked the merchant, walking beside an overburdened mule pulling a cart loaded down with merchandise.

"We are," Thurloe Pulver replied from astride his horse.

"First time?" pressed the merchant.

"Yes," Thurloe admitted.

"For the rest of them," Alewyth corrected.  Having been born in an Underdark city beneath the mountains to the north and west of their present location, she'd passed this way once before in delivering the keystone carved by her Order to the Pantheonic Temple in Port Duralia, where she first met up with the others in her group of traveling dreamwalkers.  And the only reason they were heading back the way she'd originally come was that the next person trapped in a dream was down there in the Underdark, in the sister city to the one in which she'd been born and raised.

"Well, word of advice, then," suggested the merchant.  "Once you get into the first town - Maluka - head on over to the Temple of Farthingale and get some of your coins changed over to the local currency.  *Baron Franco Kornak*, he's got his own currencies in place in his lands.  He'll accept foreign coins, but they'll charge you a good 20% over and above the cost of things.  Over at the temple, they'll convert your coins for a mere 5% charge.  Save you some money - and hassle - in the long run."  He gave the group directions on how to find the Temple of Farthingale once they arrived in Maluka.

The group thanked the old merchant and he bid them a good day, leading his mule south while they followed the road north.  Before too long they passed a sign denoting the border to the Barony of Kornak and not soon after that the city of Maluka became visible.  Sure enough, the Temple of Farthingale was right where the merchant had said it would be: a stone, single-story structure, built in a completely circular shape - just like a coin.  The holy symbol of Farthingale hung just above the pair of sturdy-looking iron doors, a pile of loose, golden coins.  "They've got gold coins as part of their building?" marveled Zander Quilson.

"Not necessarily real gold," pointed out Thurloe.

"Plus, who'd be dumb enough to try to steal coins from the outside of a holy temple?" Xandro mused.  Thurloe just smirked at the young bard's naivety.  He knew plenty of folks who'd think nothing of scaling the wall with a pry-bar to see if they could get a few gold coins out of the deal, holy temple or no.  He figured either the gold was fake - there were plenty of ways he knew of to give something the appearance of being solid gold, and not all of them relied upon magic - or the temple had ways to protect its holy symbol from theft.  In any case, he didn't give it any further thought, merely dismounted from Horse and tied his reins to one of the many posts outside the temple for that very purpose.

Wakuren parked the wagon and tied the reins of the mules to a post, while Xandro and Zander did likewise with their own mounts.  "We're not thinking of converting _all_ of our money, are we?" asked Zander.

I figure 100 pieces of gold ought to last me for awhile," Thurloe answered.  Seeing the elf's attempts at processing that information he offered up, "That'll cost me 5 gold."  Zander nodded as if having come to the same conclusion and started counting out 105 pieces of gold.  The others rummaged through their own sacks of money, coming to their own decisions of how much money to convert to the Kornaki currency.  Once they'd all made their decisions, they strode in through the double doors.

Immediately inside the temple doors was a short hallway, some 15 feet long and 10 feet wide.  There was another set of double doors at the far side, but before they got there Thurloe couldn't help stopping to stare at the pair of daggers hanging, by no apparent means, to the wall.  "Weird," he declared.

"Not so weird if you read the signs," Alewyth pointed out, indicating a sign on the opposite wall that directed all weapons were to be left along either of the two side walls.  According to the notice, only those who placed their weapons there would be able to retrieve them.  The notice also helpfully pointed out that no weapons of any kind were to be permitted inside the temple proper.

Thurloe, of course, was skeptical of the claim but he removed his bastard sword and placed it up against the wall.  Once he had Wakuren try to remove it and fail, and then only after Thurloe had easily removed his blade from the wall did he trust that this wasn't some type of trick.  "Okay, then, I guess this makes sense - no weapons inside where they keep all of their money."  He removed the rest of his weapons and adhered them to the wall as the others followed suit.  Wakuren just watched, smiling slightly.

"What about your shield?" Alewyth asked the half-orc.

"Not a weapon," Wakuren answered her politely.  Alewyth only snorted and pointed out she'd seen him use it as a weapon on many an occasion.  "True," admitted Wakuren, "but then anything _can_ be used as a weapon - your fists, for example.  I don't imagine they want us all to leave our hands here on the walls while we head inside."

"Eh," Alewyth shrugged, as close as an agreement as the half-orc was likely to get.  Then, all weapons stowed, the five adventurers stepped through the inner doors.

Inside, the Temple of Farthingale was less a temple and more of a bank.  The building's interior was one large, open circle, spanning a good 50 feet across.  There were a few wooden benches along parts of the wall, while off to the left was a spraying fountain, behind and above which rose a statue of Farthingale, Demigod of Wealth, counting his vast fortunes.  Four wooden doors along the curved inner walls led to elsewhere in the building, while straight ahead stood a bank of four teller's windows, two of them manned by young female acolytes earning their way up the ranks of the order.

"May I help you?" asked another young woman in the robes of the order.

"We're looking to convert some of our coins to the local currency," Xandro explained, smiling at the young woman.  She directed them straight ahead, where the two tellers were each already helping a customer.  Xandro thanked her and went to stand behind the man in the left line, while Wakuren went over to the line on the right.  Alewyth meandered, following them but doing so slowly, looking around at all of the finely-built construction of the building.  As might have been expected for a temple to the Demigod of Wealth, they had spared no expenses in the building of their temple, for the woods used were exotic, the fountain quite cleverly constructed, and the statue elaborately carved.

There was a man standing beside the fountain and Thurloe and Zander wandered over to see what he was up to.  He had tossed in a few copper pieces, watching each of them plunk into the scant few inches of water at the bottom of the fountain, at the bottom of which could be seen several dozen similar coins.  "It's said to bring luck," the man offered, smiling over at Thurloe.

"Well, I'm always willing to have some good luck head over in my direction," the fighter replied, fishing a few copper pieces from the coin purse on his belt.  He was pretty sure Farthingale wouldn't care that these weren't Kornaki coins he was tossing in as an offering; the Demigod of Wealth, no doubt, had interests spanning the entire globe, not just this one small barony on the small continent of Armaturia.  Zander tossed in a copper penny or two himself.

Just then, an unseen voice from the middle of the ceiling called out in an ominous voice, "Weapons detected!"  From his own magical readings, Thurloe surmised it was likely a _magic mouth_ spell or something very similar.  Spinning about to see what had caused the sudden announcement - as was just about everyone inside the temple - Thurloe saw a group of five rough-looking customers enter the temple.  Sure enough, they were all brimming with weapons, from the short sword in the right hand of the leader (his other hand covered in what the fighter assumed was some sort of brass knuckles), to the greatclub perched on the shoulder of the hulking brute, nearly seven feet tall, who simply had to have some ogre blood in his ancestry.  Another man held a pair of leather whips at the ready, a fourth held a pair of sharp-bladed daggers, and the last carried a wooden quarterstaff above which floated a burning flame.

"Everybody stay where they are!" called out the leader.  "You behind the counters: hands in the air where we can see them!  Everyone else: down on the floor, face down, hands extended!  This is a robbery, but if everybody does as we say there's no need for anybody to get hurt!"

As he was giving his commands, a man stepped out of one of the doorways leading into inner offices or whatever.  Apparently on hair-trigger alert, the man with the staff, *Heindrich Snyder*, flinched and a bolt of energy went blazing from the fire at the tip of his staff straight at the newcomer stepping into the lobby.  He was instantly engulfed in a bright light and then was gone before he'd even had a chance to utter a sound, leaving behind only an ashy stain on the floor where he'd stood.

"Well, there's a fine example of what happens when you don't do as we say!" roared *Zeke Decker*, the bandit gang's leader.  "Now, everybody DOWN ON THE GROUND!"  The customers at the heads of the lines before Xandro and Wakuren hurried to comply, as did the young woman who had greeted them as they entered.

Thurloe, however, wasn't in much of a compliant mood.  Disgusted that the temple's "defenses" seemed to be a verbal announcement of something that was already all too apparent, he decided he'd have to do what he could to take out these clowns - only without his own weapons at hand, thanks to the temple's ridiculous policy that only disarmed the law-abiding.  Fortunately, he'd taken Wakuren's conversation about what constituted a weapon and what did not to heart.  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a thunderstone - not technically a weapon, he'd decided, as it wasn't used to inflict physical harm - and hurled it at the middle of the group of robbers.  Alewyth was standing right before them, but he hoped he'd be able to hit the floor with his thunderstone far enough back that she wouldn't be affected.  And if not, too bad, because the main thing was to take out that spellcaster with the _staff of disintegration_ or whatever it was, before it could be used to kill anybody else.

Thurloe threw the thunderstone - and overshot his mark by a great deal, sending it far too high, to crash against the back wall by the front doors.  Still, judging from their confused expressions and attempts to unblock their ears after the cacophonous explosion of noise caused by the thunderstone exploding, the leader and the guy with the whips at least had been deafened.  Thurloe sidled sideways, hoping the waters of the fountain would shield him from view.

Snyder, still holding his staff in one hand, saw the dwarf woman in front of him hesitating and helped her with her decision.  "On the ground!" he snarled, grabbing her shoulder and giving her a push.  Alewyth complied for now, wishing she had her warhammer _Sjondra_ in hand.  A black form dashed from Snyder's shoulder; it was a raven, his familiar *Stygian*, who flew across the room and perched at the top of Farthingale's bald head behind the water fountain, keeping watch over the proceedings and ready to warn his sorcerer master from his aerial view of any shenanigans the temple's victims might be plotting.

Wakuren, like Thurloe, had decided instant compliance with the robbers' orders was not the right call for the situation.  He likewise came to the conclusion that the sorcerer wielding the dangerous staff was the primary threat and, with a roar, charged at Snyder.  One half-orcish hand covered the sorcerer's mouth in an effort to keep him from spellcasting while the other tried yanking the staff from Snyder's hands.  Together, they struggled to wrest the staff from the other's hands, although the sorcerer realized the weapon's only true power was in the belief it generated to those who saw it that it was deadly; in actuality, the person suddenly stepping out of the doorway to get instantly obliterated was part of the same _minor illusion_ that made it look like a blast of energy had fired from the tip of the gnarled piece of wood in the first place.

Seeing his fellow adventurers were giving a go at taking down these bandits, Xandro pulled the lute from his back and started strumming, beginning the words to his magical song that inspired courage in his compatriots.  He too sidled over by the fountain as he did so, the better to remain out of view from the rough-looking would-be robbers with all the weapons.  His song, however, reverberated across the circular lobby, adding strength to his friends' limbs and accuracy to their blows.

From her prone position on the floor, Alewyth cast a _bane_ spell, hoping to have the exact opposite effect on the other half of the active combatants: while Xandro's magical tune gave aid to the five heroes, her spell sought to decrease the fighting abilities of the bandits here to rob the temple.  She couldn't see the results right away, but Snyder was affected by the priestess' spell, as was *Mando Fozzlewith*, the rogue with the long sideburns wielding the twin daggers.  Mando was approaching Wakuren with both daggers out, ready to stab at the armored half-orc grappling with Heindrich Snyder.  But Wakuren saw the approaching rogue from the corner of his eye and spun the sorcerer about, using Snyder's body as a shield instead of the one held in place on his own right arm.  Mando was too far into his swing to make any course corrections and the blade went deep into Snyder's back with a wet _thuck!_  Wakuren merely grinned a tusked grin at the hapless rogue who had just backstabbed his own partner in crime.

Zeke Decker wasn't sure who had thrown the thunderstone that had robbed him of his hearing, but he knew the direction it had come from and there in that direction stood a robed elf - more than likely the culprit.  Not able to even hear his own words as he yelled them, he called out again for the elf to drop to the floor.  Zander calculated his best chances for survival and did just as the furious fighter had directed, laying flat on the floor beside the fountain.

*Bussard "Lash" Badlander* was currently deafened from the thunderstone explosion but he went over to the front desk and shrugged out of the wooden box that he'd carried on his back by means of a pair of ropes.  "Fill it up with coins!" he commanded to the terrified acolyte behind the counter, and if he couldn't hear his own words it was apparent that she could, for she bent over and hurried to comply.

And that left only the tallest of the bandits, the half-ogre who went by the name *Gronk*.  Stepping over to Alewyth, laying prone on the floor, he bent over her and said, "I like your necklace."

The priestess of Aerik wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly, or that he was even speaking to her among all the confusion.  Gronk made sure his meaning was clear by kicking the dwarf in the side with his booted foot.  "Hey!  You!  Dwarf.  I like your necklace.  Give it here."

Alewyth looked to her side and saw her holy symbol of Aerik was lying on the floor, although still connected to the chain around her neck.  "It's the symbol of my god," she told Gronk.  "I cannot give it to you."

That was not the answer Gronk wanted to hear.  Grabbing the dwarf by the shoulder and lifting her off her feet as easily as if she weighed no more than a kitten, he reached out with his other meaty hand and imprisoned the holy symbol within his massive fingers.  One quick tug and the chain snapped.  "Said I wanted it," he explained.

Looking up to see the deafened fighter wasn't watching him now that he had seemed to comply, Zander did a few quick rolls off to the side and tossed out his _figurine of wondrous power_, calling out its command word.  Immediately, the statue disappeared and was replaced with a living, full-size cooshee, the green-and-brown mottled fur identifying it immediately as one of the fabled elven dogs.  "Sic him!" Zander commanded, pointing at Zeke.  With a snarl, the cooshee complied, crushing the fighter's leg between his powerful jaws.  Zeke screamed in pain and swatted at the elven dog with his short sword.

One of the doors along the front of the lobby opened, and *Foster Shillingsworth* popped out his head.  Seeing the melee going on in the lobby as several of his temple's customers fought off a band of thugs, he called out a command word and then signaled for the young acolyte, *Chandra Coinbee*, to crawl over to the relative safety of the conference room.  She hurried to comply.  "We'll let things sort themselves out," the heavyset cleric promised his employee, the woman who had greeted the adventurers upon their entry into the temple.

But Father Shillingsworth hadn't meant he'd let the adventurers handle the robbers, although he was perfectly willing to let them lend what aid they could.  Instead, his command word activated the temple's true protective measure: with a sudden spurt, the fountain hiccupped and then the water cascading down started taking on a humanoid form.  The water elemental gathered up all of the water at the bottom of the fountain, increasing its size, and then stepped out onto the lobby floor with righteous intent.  Zeke Decker was the closest armed person in view, so the water elemental stepped over his way and the deafened fighter had no warning when a watery fist suddenly clubbed him from behind.

Thurloe saw Alewyth's predicament and realized without her holy symbol she'd be unable to cast many of her spells; he also recognized in himself a latent chivalry in the realization that the sole woman on their team was in trouble.  Since Zeke seemed to have his hands full fighting off the cooshee and the water elemental that had just erupted from the fountain, Thurloe deemed it safe enough to brush past him to go try to save Alewyth.  That was a mistake on his part, for Zeke was wary enough to stab out at Thurloe with his short sword as he passed, cutting him along the arm.  But Thurloe ignored it, channeling his own inherent magical energy in his hand and slamming his open palm onto Gronk's broad back, hoping to siphon off some of the brute's strength with his _touch of fatigue_.  But no luck on that front: the half-ogre didn't seem the slightest bit fazed by the fighter's attack, other than to identify Thurloe as a more fitting opponent than a little dwarf woman.

With a snarl, Snyder tried breaking free of Wakuren's grasp but the burly half-orc was more than a physical match for the frail sorcerer.  As they each tried pulling the staff from the other's grasp, Wakuren suddenly changed course, smashing the staff forward into the sorcerer's face with the satisfying crunch of bone as it broke Snyder's nose.  Blood rushed down out of his nostrils and over his lips, then a head-butt from Wakuren sent him slipping away into unconsciousness.  Wakuren looked at the staff in his hands and waited to see if it would fill him with a sudden understanding of its powers (as he had heard sometimes happened with powerful magic items), but when it didn't he tossed it aside, well aware that the water elemental - obviously part of the temple's defenses - was targeting those with weapons.  Best he not be wielding a weapon, then, he decided, especially since it seemed the sorcerer he'd just knocked out was the only one of the five bandits likely to be able to use its _disintegrate_ powers.

Using one of the powers of his Dardolian Lute, Xandro altered the words to his song of courage and interwove a _charm person_ spell aimed at the ranger with the two whips.  Lash, still deafened, couldn't hear the words to the bard's song but he felt the mental intrusion and the attempt to take over his will, and he knew someone had been trying to capture him in some magical enchantment.  He spun about, made direct eye contact with Xandro, and headed his way, whips whirling about in readiness for some retribution.  Zander saw the whips slash forward with blinding speed and strike the young bard (who, to his credit, took the blows without altering the cadence of his song which he knew was aiding his friends) and responded with a _magic missile_ spell that sent a pair of missiles streaking across the lobby to strike the ranger full in the chest.  Lash snarled and turned to fix the sorcerer with a look that promised vengeance in the very near future.

Alewyth was still dangling in Gronk's meaty grip.  In an effort to extricate herself, she kicked out at him, the toe of her boot hitting him in one of his tree-trunk thighs (which was _almost_ where she'd been aiming).  Angered, Gronk threw her to the ground and then brought his greatclub swinging down at her head - but her dwarven training against fighting giants kicked in and she just narrowly avoided getting the side of her head caved in.

Mando stabbed at Wakuren again with one of his daggers, catching the half-orc in the side of the hand and drawing blood.  Zeke stabbed his own blade at the cooshee snapping at him, likewise drawing blood that matted the animal's mottled fur.  The fighter then stepped back from the elven dog, practically bumping up against Wakuren as the cleric of Cal fended off Mando's quick attacks.  But the cooshee was single-minded in his attacks, biting at Zeke and clawing at him with his front paws.  Of all the potential results of robbing a temple of Farthingale, getting into a life-or-death battle with an elven dog was not anything that Zeke had even considered as a possibility.

The combatants having shifted around during their various fights, Gronk was now the closest armed figure to the water elemental, so he became the aquatic being's next target.  A watery fist hit the half-ogre in the side of the head and even Gronk was surprised at how much a slam from a fist made from water could _hurt!_  Thurloe, at his side, grabbed up the staff Wakuren had dropped to the floor and wielded it in a two-handed grip, bringing it crashing down upon Gronk's head - only he was careful to keep the half-ogre between himself and the water elemental, realizing that by wielding a weapon he was likely being added to the elemental's mental list of potential foes to be brought down.  Down on the ground where Gronk had thrown her, Alewyth darted forward and brought her arms around the half-ogre's ankles, hugging them to her and hoping to topple the giant to the ground.  But a swat from his greatclub sent Alewyth reeling and her grip subsided.  Gronk stepped free, turning to face the water elemental fully.

Wakuren, at this point, was quite tired of the rogue stabbing him with his daggers.  With a roar of rage, he sent his shield crashing into Mando's face, sending the dark-clad sneak-thief staggering off to the side.  Over by the fountain, Xandro continued playing his song and the half-orc realized it _was_ having an effect upon his combat prowess.  Mando kept himself from falling over and slashed at the half-orc with a wide arc of bloodied blade, but Wakuren easily dodged the frantic swing.  Behind him, Zeke was stabbing at the cooshee again, who didn't allow a few stabs here or there to stop him from continuing to bite his opponent.

Lash lashed out with his whips, this time aiming at both Xandro and Zander Quilson but only hitting the elf.  Zander accepted the blow and cast another _magic missile_ spell, not at the whip-wielding ranger but rather at the hulking half-ogre who at this point was looking rather winded.  The elf's assessment had been quite accurate, for the pair of zinging missiles was all it took for Gronk to be felled like a tree.

With the half-ogre out of the picture, the water elemental found itself more or less equidistant from two potential targets: Thurloe Pulver and Zeke Decker.  For whatever reason it went for Thurloe, who ducked beneath the elemental's blow and then immediately dropped the staff he'd been wielding.  "I surrender my weapon to the temple of Farthingale!" the fighter called out to let there be no misunderstanding and the elemental turned away.  But then Thurloe decided enough was enough and he turned back to the front entrance to the temple - and its only direct exit from the lobby.  Pushing his way through the doors, he grabbed up his bastard sword and it pulled away from the wall without any resistance at his touch.  "Now that's more like it!" the fighter enthused, turning back to face the lobby.

Wakuren hit the rogue with his shield again, the blow in tune with Xandro's inspiring music.  Alewyth reached over the unconscious Gronk and pulled her holy symbol from his unfeeling fingers.  She'd have to get the chain repaired, she frowned to herself, but in the meantime she had the divine focus for her spells back!  Just to test the waters, she cast an _inflict minor wounds_ spell on the rogue Wakuren was fighting and was pleased to see it take immediate effect.

And now it was Mando's turn to decide enough was enough.  He pushed open the doors to the exit and saw Thurloe standing there with his bastard sword in hand, blocking the way.  Mando pulled back and let fly with one of his daggers, hoping to impale its blade through one of Thurloe's eyes, but the young fighter dodged his head to the side just in time and the weapon flew harmlessly over his shoulder.  Behind Mando, Zeke called to the rest of his team still standing, "Let's go - this isn't worth it!"  Retreating now meant leaving Snyder and Gronk behind to be captured by the authorities, but better that than all five of them getting caught - he honestly hadn't expected there to be this much resistance in this podunk little town.  He gave the elven dog before him a final stab with his sword, then turned to flee.  The cooshee was having none of that, clamping onto his leg again with his teeth and pulling the fighter back.

Lash couldn't hear anything Zeke was saying but he saw him turning and heading for the door.  Grabbing up his box from the teller - it wasn't all the way filled but it would have to do - he closed it up and started shrugging it over his shoulders.  However, before he got it fully settled Zander cast another _magic missile_ spell his way and the ranger was immediately knocked out, falling to his face on the floor.

The water elemental looked about him, saw Zeke was the closest armed target, and stomped his way.  Still kicking his leg free from the cooshee's mouth, Zeke turned to face the oncoming elemental and Wakuren managed to bash his shield into the fighter's back, propelling him forward, straight into the water elemental's rushing fist.

Alewyth channeled her own inherent bit of magic and sent a _ray of frost_ at Mando.  It struck him in the back but had no immediate effect, other than convincing the rogue his only hope was to somehow get past the fighter's bastard sword and out into the open air.  He faked a stab at Thurloe with his remaining dagger, feinted to the left, and then tried rushing past him to the right.  But Thurloe wasn't tricked, and his blade cut the rogue down in a single strike.  There was no doubt about it: Mando Fozzlewith was dead, his life's blood seeping out onto the floor of the entry hall to the temple of Farthingale.

That left only Zeke, the leader of the bandit gang only now without any followers to lead.  He backed up, grabbed Lash's box of coins (no sense in not making it out of here without some payment for all the pain he'd endured), and cautiously made his way around the periphery of the lobby, headed for the exit door while trying to keep an eye on each of the adventurers there in the room with him.  The bard was still strumming his lute; no problem there.  The dwarf woman was fumbling with the holy symbol necklace, trying to tie the ends of her chain together; no immediate threat there, either.  The half-orc stood between him and the door, but he didn't look to be armed and would likely be no problem.  Zeke had lost track of the fighter, who had probably made it back outside; okay, a problem to be dealt with once he got back out of the lobby.  And that left only the skinny elf - where had he gotten to?

Zander's _magic missile_ spell hit Zeke square in the chest, answering his last mental query as the consciousness left his body and he slumped to the floor.

Wakuren took charge of the cleanup.  "Minimal healing," he suggested, casting a _cure minor wounds_ spell on the fallen bandit leader.  "We don't want them to bleed out, but we don't need them waking up, either."  Alewyth dealt with Gronk and Lash while Wakuren tended to Snyder.  Thurloe poked his head back into the lobby, saw the others had been dealt with, and reattached his bastard sword to the wall before joining the others.  "The one out here won't need no healing," he announced.  "He's dead."

The attempted robbery having been halted, the water elemental returned to the fountain and discorporated.  Seconds later, the fountain started back up, as if nothing had happened.  Stygian shrieked and flew from his perch, hoping to flee, but Zander put an end to that with one final _magic missile_ spell of the day, killing Snyder's familiar outright.  The raven plummeted to the floor.

"Well done, well done," enthused Foster Shillingsworth, stepping back out of the conference room.  "I'm prepared to offer you a reward of 100 pieces of gold for each of these bandits, for the service you have provided to this temple!"  He paid out the reward in Kornaki currency, alleviating the need for the group to convert any of their foreign coins which had been their only reason for entering the temple of Farthingale in the first place.  And as it turned out, there was an even bigger reward for bringing in the gang, once they had been bound with ropes from the wagon and the authorities had been summoned, for Zeke Decker's gang had amassed quite a reputation as wanted criminals for similar crimes in other towns and cities in the area, as well as for preying upon travelers along the roads.

"Not a bad start to our time in Kornak," Xandro observed, putting away his lute.

 - - -

Besides the monetary awards, Wakuren ended up with a pair of _boots of striding and springing_ he stripped off of Mando Fozzlewith and Zander inherited a _+1 ring of protection_ and a _wand of magic missiles_ he took from Heindrich Snyder, whose "_staff of disintegration_" turned out to be nothing more than an impressive-looking length of wood atop which had been planted an illusory flame.

Also, the water elemental hadn't been the temple's only defenses.  As the acolyte had been filling Lash's box with coins, she'd activated a _bestow curse_ effect that would have kicked in once the coins made it outside: for each 20 feet away from the temple, the weight of the coins would have doubled, so the robbers weren't going to have been able to get very far.  (In fact, I had anticipated them getting outside the temple and the PCs fighting them out there, but I failed to recognize the fake "disintegration" of the illusory victim wouldn't cow the players so much as spur their PCs into immediate action.)

This was a short adventure, lasting less than two hours of our normal 5-6 hour Saturday session.  I was willing to let that be an end to the session - Dan and Vicki's 24-year-old son Jacob had recently broken his leg and was at their place and I knew Vicki was worrying about him.  But she was game with pressing on with the next planned adventure immediately after this one was finished up (after texting Jacob to make sure he was okay - he was fine), so that's what we did.

 - - -

T-shirt worn:  A Mello Yello T-shirt, one of two that I own.  It's kind of a stretch, but I wore it because of the admittedly tenuous connection between the "yellow gold" of the standard gold piece that played a major role in this adventure and the golden-colored soda, a favorite at the Richards household.  (Not all of my T-shirt match-ups are particularly strong; this was one of those cases.)


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## Richards (Aug 14, 2021)

*ADVENTURE 12: UNDERDARK DREAMS*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 3​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 1/paladin 2​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 3​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 3​
Game Session Date: 7 August 2021

 - - -

"Hold it right there!" commanded the dwarves, stepping into the path of the mule-driven wagon.  Wakuren brought the draft animals to a halt, while beside them Thurloe, Xandro, and Zander Quilson likewise pulled on the reins of their horses, bringing them to a stop just before the entrance to the dwarven city of Stonehold, dug deep into one of the Shieldwall Mountains.

"What seems to be the problem?" asked Alewyth, who had been born and raised in Stonehold.  She well knew her people were often standoffish and many preferred to stay among their own kind, but they had plenty of trade with the human cities and towns in the Barony of Kornak just outside their own mountain dwelling.

"_He_ is," one of the dwarven guards said, pointing a stubby finger at Wakuren.  "Surely you weren't planning on allowing an _orc_ into the city?"

Alewyth looked over at the half-orc sitting beside her at the front of the wagon.  Wakuren was certainly a fierce-looking specimen, with seemingly more of his unknown orcish father in his facial features than those of his equally unknown human mother, who had abandoned him at birth to be raised in the Temple of Cal in Port Duralia.  But in the months that she'd known him, she saw in him a gentle spirit - one so willing to do everything he could to overcome his fearsome appearance that he refused to carry a weapon upon his person, relying solely upon his shield in those cases where a fight was unavoidable.  But she realized not everyone knew Wakuren as well as she did and the racial animosity between orcs and dwarves ran deep on both ends.

"I vouch for him," Alewyth declared.  "He has received training as both a cleric and a paladin of Cal and will cause no trouble while within our city."

The guards looked at each other, then at Alewyth (and the holy symbol of Aerik on her armor and on a chain around her neck), and finally back at Wakuren, who likewise wore the symbol of Cal on a chain around his neck and on the large steel shield he carried at his side.  Finally, they relented.  "Fetch the symbol of acceptance," one of the guards said to another behind the massive doors that could close the entrance to the city in case of attack.  While a dwarven guard of lower rank went to do what he had been commanded, the one who had given him his command turned back to Alewyth with a solemn expression on his face.  "You will be personally responsible for the orc's behavior," he warned her.

"Half-orc," Wakuren corrected gently.  "And half-human."  When that got him nothing more than a glare, he added, "It's not like I had any say in my heritage."  He held out one arm to the guard.  "But if you like, you may cut my arm and watch as I heal it, channeling power from the God of Healing."

By that time the lower-ranking guard had returned with a circlet of burnished bronze.  The holy symbol of Aerik, God of Earth and Protection, was etched in its front.  The dwarf handed it to Wakuren.  "You will wear this while inside the city of Stonehold," the dwarf commanded.  "It will show everyone that you have been properly vetted and allowed into the city."

Wakuren placed the circlet upon his brow.  "As you wish," he said, knowing his own patron god would have no issue with him temporarily wearing the holy symbol of an allied god upon his head while visiting the dwarven city for whom Aerik was its patron deity.  Without another word, the two guards stepped aside and allowed the five adventurers to enter Stonehold.

The first thing Wakuren noticed about Stonehold was that just past the gates a massive crevice in the mountain formed a sort of natural central square, with doorways carved into either side of the gap.  Above were other openings carved into the stone at higher levels, some of them serving as windows for the rooms carved within and others as doorways leading to stone bridges which spanned the crevice.  He knew, from Alewyth's description of the city, that the majority of Stonehold had been carved by the industrious dwarves directly into the stone of the mountain; this central crevice was one of the largest natural openings to be found within the entire city.  And it was as wide as several streets side by side, allowing for easy travel via horses and a mule-driven wagon.  But they would need to be stabled inside one of the structures adjacent to the crevice, for the majority of Stonehold was accessible only to those creatures not much larger than a dwarf.  Alewyth found the close quarters comforting; to the other adventurers, it was a bit claustrophobic once they had stabled the animals, left the wagon behind, and were prowling the narrow tunnels on the way to the home of Alewyth's parents.

*Alewald* and *Edgyth Putterpye* welcomed their daughters' companions - even Wakuren, after an initial shock at his orcish appearance.  Alewyth's father was a gem miner and cutter, while her mother was a baker.  They made room for the four guests in their home, although it meant two of them sleeping in a small guest bedroom and the other two camping out in the living room, for living space was at a premium when every square inch of it had needed to be carved from the stone of the mountain.  It made for somewhat cramped quarters, but the guys were polite enough not to mention it and Alewyth was oblivious to what to her was completely normal.

The next morning, after a fantastic dwarven breakfast, the adventurers did a bit of quick shopping, Zander picking up some scrolls, Thurloe and Alewyth each buying some potions, and Wakuren putting in an order for a suit of magical plate mail, ostensibly for Thurloe since he figured the dwarven armorsmiths would have less qualms about crafting magic armor for a human than they would for a half-orc, and the crafty cleric knowing full well the magical nature of the armor would allow it to resize to fit his build despite it allegedly having been built for Thurloe.  Then, their purchases completed, Alewyth led them through the city and out the back gates, following a tunnel she said would lead to the location of the next dreamer: Deepshaft, the neighboring dwarven city to Stonehold.  Deepshaft, as the name indicated, was a mostly vertical city that plunged half a mile or more down both sides of a wide chasm; it was situated much deeper into the mountain than was its sister city, with more of its populace involved in mining than held true in Stonehold, many of whose citizens spent the majority of their lives on the surface of the mountain, farming and raising goats.

The group got its first bit of excitement several minutes out of Stonehold, when a choker dropped silently down behind Thurloe, who had agreed to bring up the rear as the tunnel had narrowed to where only two could comfortably walk side by side; as the only two with darkvision, Alewyth and Wakuren were in the lead with Zander and Xandro just behind them, the elf carrying an _everburning torch_ for the benefit of those who _couldn't_ see perfectly fine in absolute darkness.  The lanky being, half-starved and desperate for a meal, slipped its boneless fingers around Thurloe's face, hoping to both prevent him from crying out and choke him into unconsciousness so he could scurry off with his meal before the others were even aware of the fighter's abduction.  Unfortunately for the dark-skinned abomination, Thurloe wore a metal torc around his neck which had been given to him by the first dreamer they'd rescued, a wizard by the name of Grimboldt, and it was this metal torc that no doubt saved Thurloe's life, for the choker found it hard to crush a windpipe so protected.  Unable to drop his prey as quickly as he had hoped, the choker's desperate gamble cost him his life as Thurloe wrenched away from the creature's grasp, spun about, and cut him across the torso with a swift swing of his bastard sword's blade.  On the plus side, the choker wasn't hungry anymore - nor would he ever be again.

"What--?" sputtered Zander, spinning around to see what the commotion was behind him and surprised to see Thurloe Pulver standing over the corpse of a creature the elf had never seen before in his life - nor had he heard its stealthy approach.

Alewyth walked over to examine the body.  "Choker," she said matter-of-factly.  "Fortunately, they tend to be solo."  She and Wakuren gave their surroundings a quick scan in case there might be others about, but it didn't look like such was the case.  "Let's keep moving," she suggested, and Zander was only too happy to put the creepy-looking thing behind him.

Another hour later, though, they ran into their second ambush of the day.  The tunnel they were traversing had dropped in elevation several times and sometimes had widened and others had narrowed; they were currently walking single-file through a narrow section where doing so was pretty much their only option.  Wakuren had volunteered to take the lead after Alewyth had informed him the tunnel wasn't going to branch off for a bit yet.  There was the sound of running water just ahead and the cramped tunnel opened into an oblong cave, the floor of the tunnel becoming the top of a natural stone bridge traversing the open space of the cave above and below them.  A rather quick-moving stream ran from right to left some 20 feet below the bridge.

As Wakuren described the scene to the others behind him, he stepped out onto the bridge - only to see a form pop up out of the stone itself, directly before him.  This was a squat, bulky creature made of solid rock, vaguely humanoid in shape with two arms and two legs, although what served as a head mostly grew out of the torso without the benefit of a neck.  The half-orc recognized it as an earth elemental right away and instinctively raided his holy symbol of Cal before him, for as an adherent of the God of the Air, Wakuren was capable of turning away creatures made of earth as easily as most clerics could likewise turn undead creatures from their path.  "Begone with you!" Wakuren called out, channeling a blast of energy through his holy symbol as the creature raised a stony fist to strike the half-orc.  It just barely finished its swing before turning about and fleeing back the way it had come, sinking back into the stone of the bridge seemingly without affecting the natural structure in the least by its passing through it.

"It was probably summoned," Wakuren warned the rest of the group behind him.  "That probab--"  But the rest of his sentence was cut off in mid-stream as the _silence_ spell took effect, confirming Wakuren's suspicions there was likely a spellcaster nearby, for he had no doubt the earth elemental's sudden appearance wasn't just an unfortunate happenstance but rather a deliberate act by someone hoping to benefit from travelers being tossed down into the underground stream below.  And in this supposition he was absolutely correct, for off to his right, on the ground beside the stream, a troglodyte cleric had just cast the _silence_ spell after recognizing the emblem on the half-orc's shield marking him as a spellcaster; with the spell focused on the far end of the bridge, the troglodyte had just ensured there would be no spellcasting at all by anyone up on the bridge, without impeding his own ability to cast spells down at the bottom of the cave.

Nor was the troglodyte cleric alone down there; further downstream from the cleric were two others of his race, armed with javelins and clubs, as well as a monitor lizard the trio used as a guard beast and tracker.  The closest of the troglodytes cast his first javelin up at Wakuren, the point of the weapon being silently deflected by the half-orc's shield.  The other troglodyte and the monitor lizard both moved up, alerted to the presence of potential prey.

Alewyth couldn't see what was going on but she had seen the javelin bounce off Wakuren's shield, noticed the lack of sound, and deduced it had been a _silence_ spell that had cut off Wakuren's warning.  She began the words to a _bless_ spell and was pleased to hear her own words being vocalized normally; she was apparently outside the area of effect of the _silence_ spell, then - good to know.  Behind her, Zander cast a _mage armor_ on himself while he still could.

Thurloe raced past Wakuren and high-tailed it to the far side of the bridge, standing just inside the cave tunnel formed by the far wall rising up from the cavern below.  He pulled out his composite longbow and scanned the shadows for signs of the enemy below, using only the flickering light of Zander's _everburning torch_ by which to see.  Spotting movement below, he shot an arrow down at the second troglodyte, even though he wasn't entirely sure what it was he was attacking at this point.  Wakuren followed suit, crossing the stone bridge to squeeze past Thurloe, knowing he'd need to get past the _silence_ spell's area of effect if he were to be able to cast any of his spells, which were his only means of ranged combat since he refused to carry any weapons.

Below, the troglodyte cleric cast a _shield of faith_ spell upon himself, readying for battle with these interlopers, for he could see these were likely surface people having come down into the Underdark.  While he cast his spell, Xandro stepped out onto the bridge and fired his light crossbow down at the same troglodyte Thurloe had shot, his bolt catching the reptilian humanoid in the head just above his eye, killing him immediately.

The other troglodyte threw a javelin up at Thurloe, causing the fighter to duck back into the safety of the cave.  In the meantime, the monitor lizard crossed the stream to get to the side of the dead troglodyte, where it wasted no time biting off hunks of the creature's flesh and gorging himself.  The lizard played no favorites; this meal was as good as any other it might expect to find.

Alewyth and Zander crossed the bridge quickly, squeezing past the others to get to the safety of the other cave tunnel and, more importantly, to an area where they could hear noises once again and were therefore assured of being able to cast their spells as needed.  Wakuren decided Thurloe was sufficient to provide for the group's defenses against any threat coming from the direction of the stone bridge and continued on down the tunnel to see if there were any dangers to be had from this direction.  A set of natural stone steps dropped off to his left where the tunnel widened out and he could hear the sounds of rushing water coming from that direction.  Carefully making his way down the uneven steps, he saw before him a wide cavern where a waterfall cascaded into a pool of water that covered more than half of the back end of the cavern.  Facing the waterfall were three more troglodytes, javelins at the ready to throw at anybody who might fall down the waterfall - no doubt expecting the earth elemental to have been able to toss in a few potential meals by now.  Due to the sounds made by the cascading water, they didn't hear Wakuren's approach.  Sensing it was safe to do so, Wakuren cast an _entropic shield_ spell upon himself, hoping to deflect some of the damage those javelins might do to him.

Back at the first cavern, the two remaining troglodytes rushed to the back wall and tried climbing up to the stone bridge; of the two, only the cleric was successful on his first attempt, the other one losing his footing and sliding back to the ground level.  Thurloe shot an arrow at the troglodyte cleric, who hissed in silent pain at the wound, his own spell absorbing the sounds he made.

In the waterfall cavern, Wakuren rushed at the three troglodytes, slamming the closest with his shield as he spun to face the charging half-orc, having heard his clomping boots over the sounds of the waterfall at the last moment.  Alewyth mentally calculated the distance involved and planted a _sound burst_ spell far enough behind the troglodytes that it should affect two of them without encompassing Wakuren as well; fortunately, her aim was true and the cleric of Cal was not hit with the cacophonous burst.  Then Zander stepped into visual range and sent a _magic missile_ spell streaking over to hit one of the reptiles Alewyth had just hit with her own spell and it was enough to slay the troglodyte outright.  As the other one seemed to have gotten the worst of the _sound burst_ spell - and was momentarily stunned into immobility - Wakuren spun about to face the third troglodyte, who at this point had not been targeted at all, neither by spell nor by blow.

By this time, the physical combat had stirred whatever glands were responsible for the troglodytes' unholy stench and Wakuren was easily close enough to detect it.  His face wrinkled in disgust but he managed to overcome the worst of the effects, as did Alewyth, who was further back and just barely in range to even detect the foul odor; Zander was still far enough back that he didn't have to worry about it just yet.  And now Xandro stepped into view, his crossbow stowed on his back and his lute out, as his fingers began the first strumming chords of his song of courageous inspiration.

Back in the first cavern, the troglodyte cleric had pulled himself fully up onto the bridge while Thurloe readied another arrow into his bow and pulled back the drawstring.  The reptile charged forward silently, dodging the arrow as Thurloe released it.  Behind him, the other troglodyte ran up the wall and pulled himself up onto the bridge as well.

Wakuren found himself surrounded by a troglodyte on either side of him, slamming him with their stone clubs.  He brought his shield around to block one of them, but that only left him wide open to the attack from the other one.  Alewyth, seeing his predicament, raced forward and brought her enchanted warhammer _Sjondra_ to bear, bringing it crashing down upon the skull of one of the troglodytes - and getting a much bigger whiff of the creature's stench at this closer range; fortunately, dwarves were made of stern stuff and she managed to resist its debilitating effects.  But at this point Wakuren had held out for as long as he could and he felt the strength pour out of his limbs as his stomach rolled and turned at the vile stench filling his nostrils.  He slammed again at his reptilian foe but his shield bash was not at its full force.

Thurloe dropped his bow and took several steps back, trying to keep as much distance as he could between himself and the charging troglodyte cleric, at least long enough for him to pull the bastard sword from the sheath on his back.  By then, Zander had brought down one of the two remaining troglodytes fighting Wakuren and Alewyth with another _magic missile_ spell, and hearing Thurloe's warning cry - for the fighter had backed out of the area of effect of the _silence_ spell - he turned to face the threat approaching from the bridge.  Xandro turned to face that way as well, still playing his lute and empowering the limbs of his friends as they fought off the troglodyte menace.

Wakuren had taken quite a beating by now and felt the need for some quick healing but knew that doing so while standing too close to the remaining troglodyte was just asking to be bludgeoned again by the reptile's club.  With nowhere else to go (at least if he didn't want to risk tripping over the corpse of a slain troglodyte), he stepped into the pool of water, casting a _cure light wounds_ spell upon himself while keeping a wary eye on his foe.  Fortunately, said foe was concentrating on Wakuren as well and stepped into the pool after him, learning only too late that it wasn't a smart idea to turn his back upon Alewyth Putterpye.  _Sjondra_ crushed his skull as well and he fell face-first into the water, sending a wave splashing over Wakuren.  But the half-orc was fine with getting a little wet if it meant not being attacked any longer.  He cast a _divine favor_ spell upon himself and started wading back to the shore.

The troglodyte cleric went all primal on Thurloe, slashing at him with his claws and snapping at him with his teeth.  Thurloe's nose wrinkled at the stench of his foe and his stomach churned, threatening to release Edgyth Putterpie's wonderful breakfast back out into the wild.  But the fighter swallowed down his gorge and sent his bastard sword glancing off the cleric's scaly hide.  The reptile snarled at the blow, looked about him, and saw far too many enemies and far too few of his allies.  He turned, bumping into the troglodyte that had just made it across the stone bridge and spun him about, the two of them racing back across the bridge the way they had come.  Unlike with the choker, food had not been so scarce lately that winning this fight was a matter of life or death and the cleric chose to flee and survive to spring other ambushes on other days in the future.

Thurloe, however, was a firm believer in making sure your enemies never got a chance to attack you again on a different day in the future.  He raced after the fleeing reptiles, scooping up his abandoned longbow in passing and then taking careful aim as the troglodytes scurried down the sides of the cavern wall.  Neither made it down to the ground level alive and the monitor lizard had himself a choice of banquets that day.

After regrouping, assessing their wounds, and casting healing spells upon those who needed them, the group pressed on.

They reached the outskirts of Deepshaft less than an hour later.  As Wakuren still wore the circlet with the symbol of Aerik on his brow, the dwarves of Deepshaft barely gave him a second glance, accepting that if their Stonehold brethren saw fit to let him into the dwarven lands then he must have already passed muster.

Naturally, Alewyth took up the role of party leader when dealing with her fellow dwarves.  "We're lookin' fer someone caught up in 'is or 'er dreams," she told the guardsdwarves, and the other dreamwalkers couldn't help but notice her dwarven accent was more pronounced when among her own people.

"Ah, yer after th' lazy one," one guard snickered.  "Ye c'n find 'im in th' 'ospital tent, down on level two o' th' southern mines.  *Bjuennar* 'ere c'n take ye, if'n ye like."

Bjuennar, a scar-faced veteran, was more than happy to escort a pretty young dwarven cleric of the God of Earth and Stone (and her four companions, although he barely gave them a glance) to the southern mines.  He took the group straight to see the foreman of the mines, who was intrigued when Alewyth told him of their plans to try to wake him.  "Well, ye're welcome t' try," he offered.  "Feller's name is *Altum Deepdelver*, 'e just fell over asleep on th' job one day and we've not been able t' wake 'im since.  Nobody had any better ideas, so we drug 'im over t' th' 'ospital tent and th' clerics've been lookin' after 'im since.  Most o' th' miners figger he's just fakin' and lazin' about, th' slothful bugger."

"I c'n assure ye, we've met up with others caught up in this dream sickness," Alewyth replied.  "We still don't know what's causing it, but we've been able t' rescue three others before 'im."  The foreman just shrugged and led them to the hospital tent, where he left them in the care of the two dwarven clerics tending to the medical needs of the miners.  After explaining the situation and what they intended to do, the group was allowed to drag Altum's cot into the open where there was more room, wrap a dreamstone in a bandanna and tie it around Altum's head, then sit around his sleeping form in a circle, each dreamwalker holding a dreamstone of their own in one hand.  The two miner clerics watched them for a bit, but when it became apparent all these five strangers were going to do was fall asleep sitting upright, they quickly lost interest and went about their other duties.

"Hey, kupo!" Mogo greeted them in the dreamlands when, one by one, each of the five fell asleep and sent their dream-forms out of the Mortal Plane altogether.  "Is everyone ready, kupo?"  Mogo fluttered in the air beside one of the seemingly endless doors in the Hallways of Dreams.  At their acknowledgment of readiness, the moogle opened the door and ushered everyone into Altum Deepdelver's personal dreamscape.  "Good luck, kupo!" Mogo called, closing the door behind them and then looking through the window he'd caused to materialize in the top half of the door so he could monitor their progress.

The quintet stepped onto a flat, desolate land with only the blackened, burned remains of trees and shrubs scattering the otherwise lifeless ground.  "Not much here," Zander observed.  "Where's Altum, and how are we supposed to wake him?"

"He won't necessarily be present," Alewyth pointed out.  "Haven't you ever had a dream about other things, when you didn't even appear in them?"  Zander shrugged his acceptance of the possibility.

"Still, it's not really apparent what all we're supposed to do," Thurloe observed.

Suddenly, the flapping of powerful wings alerted the group to a presence dropping down from the skies above: a massive, three-headed dragon with twin, spiked tails trailing behind him.  With a roar of challenge coming from three separate throats, the dragon landed on the desert ground, causing a small explosion of dust and grit as he landed.

"I think that's a gorynych!" exclaimed Xandro, identifying it from tales he'd heard as a child.  "But I didn't think they got that big!"

"Maybe not in real life, but this is a dream!" Alewyth reminded him, raising the dreamstone she held in her right hand.  She presented it to the massive gorynych as she'd raise her holy symbol of Aerik to an undead being she intended to turn away.  Had it been her holy symbol, she'd have channeled positive energy through it; on the dreamscape, she merely used it to focus her will as she imagined the gorynych being reduced in size and strength, hoping to make it a much more manageable foe like they did with the dream fox, the first dream-foe they had overcome with their dreamstones.  Beside her, the four other dreamwalkers did the same.

It made not a lick of difference.  With a three-throated roar, three draconic heads opened wide three enormous mouths and sent forth three bursts of lightning.  Alewyth, Wakuren, and Xandro, standing in the middle of the group of five, were each instantly obliterated, their dream-bodies dissolved into nothingness in the blink of an eye.

"Run!" Thurloe cried, taking off at full speed to the left as Zander likewise fled to the right.

That also made no difference, other than causing the gorynych to have to track them down one at a time to slay them.  It hopped towards Thurloe, its wings gliding it to an easy landing as it bent forward and snapped at him with three sets of teeth.  The fighter's body was pulled apart into three messy chunks and each head swallowed down its own morsel before spinning in place and setting its triple gaze over at Zander.  It then repeated its performance, gobbling the elven sorcerer down before roaring its defiance to the sky above.

"Kuuuuuupo!" swore Mogo, his eyes as wide as saucers as he watched the five dreamwalkers get killed in a matter of mere moments.

Fortunately, the only effect their dream-deaths had was to force each of the five back into wakefulness on the Material Plane.  Zander, as the last to have been slain in the dream, was the last to wake back up in his real body.

"What the Hell was _that?_" he demanded.

"I told you: a gorynych," Xandro explained.  "A really, really big one."

"Did anybody feel like they were successful in weakening it in any way?" Alewyth asked the others.  The universal feeling was that their dreamstones had been useless.  "Try it again?" she offered.  Enthusiasm wasn't particularly high but failing anything else, they decided to give it a go.  It took them a while to calm their heartbeats down and get themselves composed to where they could fall back asleep, but eventually they all managed it and met back up in the Hallway of Dreams.

"Holy crap, kupo!" Mogo exclaimed once they were all five back in place.

"Yeah, tell me about it!" Thurloe agreed.  "So how come our dreamstones aren't helping?"

Mogo had no idea.  "Maybe concentrate on weakening the creature before you even enter the dream, kupo...?" the moogle guide suggested, but it was fairly obvious he was just clutching at straws here.  Still, they followed his suggestion - and it made no difference.  The gorynych ripped them apart just as easily as it had before.

So the next time they entered the dream, they started running off in five different directions so it would be harder for the three-headed dragon to blast as many of them at one time.  It landed in the middle of them, while they formed a five-pointed star around the creature in much the same way they were surrounding the sleeping form of Altum Deepdelver on the Material Plane.  It did no good, the only change being it took the three-headed dragon almost a minute to slay them.

At Mogo's suggestion, the next time they entered the dream they were each wielding two dreamstones, one in each hand.  That gave them a valuable piece of information: two dreamstones were just as useless against the gorynych as one had been.  Their dream-deaths were just as swift that time.

"I'm getting kind of tired getting killed over and over!" complained Thurloe Pulver as the group met up in the Hallway of Dreams yet again.

"Yeah, this obviously isn't working, kupo!" agreed Mogo.

"Any ideas why?" asked Alewyth.  Mogo just shook his head, sending his pom-pom antenna waving back and forth.  "No, kupo.  I have an idea, but you're probably not going to like it, kupo."  He looked at each of the dreamwalkers in turn.  "This dream-dragon is much too powerful for you now, but if you leave the dreamstone on the dwarf's forehead, over time he will bond more strongly with it and maybe that will help you to tap into your own dreamstones, kupo."

"You mean just give up?" asked Thurloe.  "Walk away, after all the time we spent to get to this Altum guy, and come back later on?"  Mogo just shrugged and nodded, sending his pom-pom antenna fluttering about again.

"Works for me," Zander offered.

"Me too," Xandro admitted.  "We can always come back later, after we've gotten more powerful and more used to dream combats.  After all, this is only, what? - our fourth dream battle."

Thurloe sighed.  "Yeah, all right - I just hope that thing doesn't get any stronger over time than it already is."

"Then I guess you guys can wake back up and go back the way you came, kupo.  You'll need to head back out of the mountain and travel east; the next dream victim is that way, kupo."

It was a dejected group that woke back up around the still-sleeping Altum Deepdelver.  "I guess we can't win them all," suggested Wakuren.  But the dwarven miner clerics weren't at all disappointed in the lack of results, for nothing they had tried had worked, either.  Alewyth instructed them to keep the bandanna in place on Altum's forehead, so he could better attune to the dreamstone, and promised they'd be back later to try again.

"Possibly _much_ later," piped up Thurloe.

After getting the clerics to promise to send word to the Temple of Aerik in Stonehold if there was any change in Altum's status - especially if he happened to wake up on his own - the group took their leave of Deepshaft and returned back to Alewyth's family home in Stonehold.  Fortunately, their way back was much more uneventful than their trek to Deepshaft had been.  They spent the evening with Alewyth's parents and hunkered down to another claustrophobic night sleeping in their cramped quarters.

The next morning had the benefit of starting off with Edgyth's marvelous pastries as a major part of their hearty dwarven breakfast.  But before they could say their goodbyes to the Putterpyes - and Wakuren could fetch the armor he'd ordered - there was a knock on the door and a sheepish-looking Priest of Aerik asked to see the five adventurers.  "I hate t' bother ye, but there's a matter that might be could use yer expertise..." he began, before explaining that one of the dwarves in the city had been unable to be awakened this morning.

"Th' lad's name's *Brokar Herdson*," the priest of Aerik explained, "an' 'e normally tends t' th' rothé 'is family raises in th' city."  He led the five heroes to the Herdson residence, where the non-dwarven among them got their first whiff of "stench kow" - not as pungent as troglodyte stench, but not far off.  Alewyth took charge, handing out a dreamstone to each of the dreamwalkers (and noting they were now down to eleven) and setting them up in a circle around Brokar's sleeping form.

"Oh, good, kupo!" Mogo exclaimed upon seeing the five appear at the Hallway of Dreams.  "We just got a new dreamer stuck right by your present location, kupo!  I was afraid we'd have to send you right back there when you reported in tonight, kupo!"  As creatures that existed only in the dreamlands, the moogles - and the Queen of Dreams who ruled over them - had no way of communicating with the dreamwalkers except when they were asleep.  Mogo led them to another door and activated the window that allowed them to look into the dreamscape before entering it.

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Thurloe.

This dreamscape looked very much like the one in which they'd fought - although "been slain by" was a more apt description - the gorynych in Altum Deepdelver's dream.  Fortunately, there were a few differences: while this was also a desolate landscape, it came complete with scattered boulders of various sizes.  It was also apparently underground, as opposed to the open-air desert of the gorynych's home ground.

"There better not be any damned three-headed dragons in here..." muttered Thurloe as the five dreamwalkers entered the dream.  As before, Mogo's touch attuned them to the dream so they'd be able to interact with it.

They heard a muffled cry from the left; looking that way, they saw a dwarf - easily identifiable as Brokar Herdson - scrambling back to his feet after a fall.  He looked in panic over his shoulder at whatever it was that was after him.

His pursuer was quite distinctive.  Towering as tall as a storm giant, he had the build and garb of a rather thin hill giant: hard, firm muscles instead of sloppy fat, and wearing a wrap of cured animal skins around his hips and leather sandals upon his feet with criss-crossed straps reaching up his calves.  The biggest difference was his head, or rather his lack thereof, for sprouting up from his neck was an oversize hand, its fingers curled in an attempt to grab onto the fleeing dwarf.

Expecting trouble of the same sort the gorynych had given them, each of the dreamwalkers had a dreamstone clenched in their hands, even here in the dreamlands.  As one, they raised their dreamstones and pointed them at the nightmare hand-beast, using their limited powers of dream manipulation to will the creature to become weaker.

Surprising all five of them, it worked.

The hand-beast shrunk in stature as it chased after a panicked Brokar.  The fleeing dwarf passed them by, and by the time to pursuing monstrosity caught up to where the heroes were standing it was little taller than an ogre.  "That's more like it!" enthused Thurloe before cutting down the beast with his bastard sword.  Upon the nightmare hand-beast's passing, the dreamscape started fading out of view as Brokar Herdson began waking up.  Hurriedly, the dreamwalkers followed him into wakefulness.

"Ye did it!" cried out Brokar's parents, *Hilda* and *Hongar*, upon seeing their son arise from his too-long slumber.  "We were worried about ye, son!"

"What happened?" asked Brokar, rubbing his eyes and stretching.  "What time is it?"

A grateful family of rothé herders rewarded the group with a bag of fermented stench kow milk.  Alewyth accepted it in gratitude on behalf of the group before anyone could decline and embarrass the family.  Once they had left the Herdsons, the Aerik priest passed over a bag of coins to his fellow adherent.  "This's fer doin' what th' others in our order could not," he told Alewyth.  "Use it as ye need, and no arguments."  Alewyth thanked the elder and they returned to her parents' dwelling to fetch their belongings.  There she said a tearful goodbye to her folks, gathered their mounts, and went to fetch the magic armor Wakuren had ordered.  Thurloe took custody of it for the time being to foster the illusion it had been made for him and stowed it in the wagon.  As they left Stonehold, Wakuren returned the circlet he'd been ordered to wear while within the dwarven Underdark lands.

"I thank you for the temporary use of your token," he said, handing the circlet to one of the guards.  "May Aerik bestow His blessings upon you."

"Hrrmph!" snorted the guard, not sure of what to make of a civilized orc.

 - - -

Once outside the city, Wakuren switched over to his new _+1 full plate armor_, something he'd been itching to buy as soon as he had the cash.  He passed his old armor - a _+1 chain shirt_ - to Alewyth, as it was better than the armor she'd been wearing, and since we're using the rules that magical armor shifts and alters to fit the body of whoever's wearing it (as long as they're the correct size category).  In addition, Vicki had stated a desire to have Alewyth purchase a dire goat as a riding mount, and I had told her the best time to do that was when she was back at home in Stonehold.  I also suggested that the prices for a saddle, saddlebags, barding, etc. would be the standard prices from the _Player's Handbook_ in Stonehold, but if she waited until she was back in the "human lands" she'd have to pay the "exotic" prices as dire goats aren't quite as commonly seen there.  So she opted for a military saddle, bit and bridle, and saddle bags for her dire goat, which she decided to name *Pyrite*.

Joe, in the meantime, is still deciding on a name for his cooshee.  He...tends to take his time coming up with names.

 - - -

T-shirt worn: This was the same game session as "Farthingale's Fortunes," so I was still wearing my Mello Yello T-shirt.  Lame tie-in: the Ghidorah figure (from my Godzilla figures collection I have displayed in my man-cave and the bookshelf in the hallway just outside it) has golden scales, not unlike the golden color of the soft drink.  Tenuous, yes, but a tie-in nonetheless.


----------



## Richards (Aug 30, 2021)

*ADVENTURE 13: INVASION FROM AFAR*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 3​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 1/paladin 2​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 3​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 3​
Game Session Date: 28 August 2021

 - - -

Alewyth was getting used to riding on her new dire goat Pyrite; it was quite different than sitting beside Wakuren in the front of the mule-driven wagon, that was for sure!  The group was three days out of Stonehold and had perhaps another half-day before reaching the small village of Pendlewick, the location of the next dream victim they'd try to rescue.

As the group ambled down the road on their respective mounts they saw ahead of them, off to the side of a road, a canvas tent: large, circular, with a pointed top, of the types often used in circuses.  A young man in the robes of a wizard stood just outside it, holding a rather elaborate-looking staff with a large lens on top.  The staff had several small projections sticking out of it, giving it the appearance it wasn't quite sure if it wanted to be a wizard's staff or a coat rack for dolls.

"Come one, come all!" the young wizard called out to the group as they got nearer.  "For the paltry sum of five silver coins, you can see strange beasts from exotic lands, all in the safety and comfort of a shaded tent!  Do not pass on the opportunity of a lifetime!  What do you say, my lady, good gentlemen – will you enter the tent and be astounded by the creatures I will show you?"

The adventurers looked among themselves to discern the level of interest.  "What do you think?" asked Alewyth.  "We're making good time, and it's not likely to be that long of a diversion."

"The price is pretty low, too," agreed Thurloe.  "Sure, why not?"

"You guys go ahead," replied Xandro.  "I'll stay out here and look after the animals."

Wakuren had the mules pull the wagon off to the side of the road and Alewyth, Thurloe, Xandro, and Zander followed suit with their own riding mounts.  The three horses and the dire goat were given free rein to take the opportunity to graze among the grasses and plants along the side of the road; Xandro pulled the waterskin from his belt and helped himself to a long drink.  The young wizard, in the meantime, was collecting silver coins from the other four and ushering them inside the tent.  "Are you sure you will not reconsider, my good sir?" he asked Xandro.  "Inside you will see wonders nearly beyond belief!"  Xandro merely shook his head and waved him off, turning to give his horse White a good rubdown.

"Very well then, come inside, line up along the edge if you please," the young wizard said to the others.  "Form a single row, so everyone can see the wonders to come!"  There were already ten people lined up along the inner surface of the canvas tent, mostly farm-folk by the looks of them, although there was at least one traveling merchant among them, which explained the small pony and cart parked outside on the other side of the tent.  Thurloe noticed there was no central tent pole, the outer poles each angling up and meeting in the middle at the top point.  There was an easy eight-foot clearance along the edges of the tent, while the middle had to be around 12 feet high.

Once everyone had been positioned to his satisfaction, and after having peeked back outside to see there was nobody else within view who might be coaxed inside, the young wizard began his spiel.  "For those who do not know me, I am *Dolmarr Vingerman*," he said, "apprentice to the local wizard here in the village.  I have learned the ways of mighty magics, which allow me to summon forth visions of faraway lands and the strange and exotic denizens that exist therein!"  As he was saying this, he was peering through the lens at the top of his odd little staff, concentrating on tweaking a few of the knobs and projections.  And suddenly, there in the middle of the tent, an image began to form.  With the flaps closed, it was already dark inside the tent but the image taking shape was darker still, as if capturing the picture of a landscape seen at nighttime.  It wasn't anything particularly interesting, though, merely a collection of broad-leafed plants, quite low to the ground.

"Pfeh!" snorted one of the farmers.  "For this I paid five silvers?"

"One moment please, while I focus in on a few of the wonders I have promised," replied Dolmarr, peering through his lens and twiddling knobs.  The plants in the circle at the center of the tent whisked forward and out of view, being replaced by others who seemed to slide sideways into the circle.  Zander realized this was probably some sort of _scrying_ device that projected the image of the area upon which it was focused.  He squinted down at the floor of the tent and saw no runes or glyphs, no magic circle, merely the dirt of the surrounding area.  So the image was being projected from the staff somehow.

But while the sorcerer was puzzling out how the staff might work, a sudden gasp from the rest of the audience brought his attention away from Dolmarr and the staff and back toward the dark image in the middle of the tent.  There were more of the broad-leafed plants in view, but more importantly, there was now a hideous, reptilian monster standing in the middle of the tent eating them.

The creature stood on a pair of powerful hind legs with a tail sticking out behind it for balance.  From head to tail it had to measure close to 15 feet long - and what a head it had!  Its cranial dome was covered in thick warts and protrusions, rather like the head of a heavy mace.  It placidly continued eating its meal, ignoring the people surrounding it and staring at it in wide-eyed fascination.

"It can't see us, can it?" whispered a frightened old farmer.

"Not in the least," reassured Dolmarr.  "It is far away on the continent of Talonia, where it cannot harm us."

"It's so dark," complained another observer.  "Can't you make it lighter, so we can see it better?"

"I should be able to," mumbled Dolmarr to himself, fiddling with some of the knobs on the staff.  He now wished he'd had more time to practice with the staff (although since his master hadn't realized Dolmarr had "borrowed" it for this money-making venture and he'd need to return it before its presence was missed, it wasn't as if he'd had a lot of time to figure out all of its workings)  and that he'd factored in the nighttime status of the continent of Talonia.  Still, one of these switches ought to be able to cast some more illumination on the scene....

Dolmarr Vingerman never did realize what exactly he'd done that got the image focused so much better, but all of a sudden the dinosaur before them was in much clearer detail; it was much easier to make out the banded patterns on the creature's scaled back and the intricate veins on the leaves it was eating.  Of course, the sudden sounds of insects buzzing and the grunt of astonishment coming from the pachycephalosaurus standing in the middle of the tent was an indicator that the reason for the image's much-clearer focus might not have been the one Dolmarr had intended.  There was now an earthy smell in the tent as well that hadn't been there a moment earlier.

With a bleat of panic, the knobby-headed dinosaur raised its head from the plant it had been eating and looked about him at the strange creatures who, in its mind, had suddenly appeared in a ring all around it while it ate.  This caused the villagers to panic in return, and several of them yelped aloud; those closest to the tent flaps made a hurried dash toward it while Dolmarr frantically started flipping switches trying to undo whatever he'd done to project the creature across the miles to end up inside the tent with them.

Zander had no idea what kind of creature this monster was, but he didn't like being trapped inside a tent with it.  He pulled the _figurine of wondrous power_ from his pocket and dropped it to the ground in front of him, calling out the command word that brought the cooshee to full size and apparent life.  Thurloe, beside him, pulled the bastard sword from the scabbard on his broad back and readied his blade for action.  Alewyth started the words to a _bless_ spell, realizing combat was likely imminent with this unknown monster.  Wakuren tried the opposite approach, casting a _bane_ spell upon the monster, hoping to lessen the impact of any attacks it might make upon those trapped inside the tent with it.

But panic was now underway: the villagers were screaming in terror, some making a mad rush towards the closed tent flaps and others trying to climb underneath the bottom of the canvas walls.  The pachycephalosaurus was in just as much of a blind panic and it lashed out in the way it knew best, by lowering its head into battering ram configuration and dashing forward.  Its thick skull crashed into the skull of a commoner who had dropped to his knees in an attempt to scramble under the tent and he was slain instantly, the entire side of his head caved in from the impact.  Naturally, this caused the villagers to scream even louder in terror, which put the pachycephalosaurus into even more of a panic....

From outside the tent, Xandro heard the screaming and rushed over to the tent flap to see what was going on.  He was nearly bowled over by the sudden exit of a townsman who had found his way to the flap and wasn't going to let anything get in his way of an immediate exit.  As the light from outside momentarily illuminated the scene inside the darkened tent and the bard saw some sort of lizard-monster in there with his friends, he pulled the lute from his back and started his song of courageous inspiration, knowing from past experience it was one way he could aid all of his friends at once while they faced danger.

The cooshee darted forward and snapped his teeth at the pachycephalosaurus, getting no purchase on the reptile's thick hide but attracting its attention.  Zander cast a _mage armor_ spell upon his elven dog, hoping to protect his combat avatar - for the delicate sorcerer had no desire to wade into combat with the dinosaur himself!  Thurloe stepped over and, while the creature's focus was on the cooshee, brought his bastard sword down in a two-handed blow upon the scaled back of the mighty lizard-thing, but it swerved at the last moment - an accidental repositioning to better face the cooshee, nothing it had done on purpose - and the fighter's blade skittered off the creature's scales at an angle, deflected off to the side.  Over by the tent flap, Dolmarr continued trying to fiddle with the staff, desperately attempting to undo the damage he'd done and send this monster back to Talonia.  His face was white with terror and disbelief that things had somehow gone so wrong.

Alewyth cast another spell, this time a _doom_ spell focused on the pachycephalosaurus which she hoped would lessen its combat prowess.  Wakuren also cast a spell, a _divine favor_ on himself, in preparation for him wading into battle armed only with his shield.  By this time, about half of the farmers had escaped the tent, a few by the tent flaps and the rest by scrambling underneath the canvas walls on their stomachs.

The panicked dinosaur focused on the one foe that best fit its preconceived knowledge of a predator species, striking the cooshee with its knobbed skull.  The dog yelped in pain at the blow and darted off to the side, then rushed in and snapped at the reptilian beast with its teeth again, slashing a set of front claws at it as well for good measure.  Zander cast a _magic missile_ spell at the dinosaur, the twin blades of force striking unerringly into the beast's shoulder.  Another farmer went racing out through the tent flap and this time, giving up on figuring out the staff's workings in time, Dolmarr went with him, fleeing to the relative safety of the world outside the canvas tent, whose interior now included a 30-foot-diameter patch of the continent of Talonia.  The wizard's apprentice started sprinting as fast as he could back towards his master's cottage; maybe *Grimblegrack Fishmelon* could find a way to put this whole fiasco to rights!

Activating the power of the magical torc he wore around his neck, Thurloe brought his bastard sword crashing into the scaled body of the pachycephalosaurus and this time he was rewarded by the sudden appearance of a large gash across the creature's broad flank and the welcome gushing of its life's blood spattering across the broad leaves of the plants underfoot.  That answered one of the fighter's questions, for he knew the power of his sword _Spellslicer_ would dissipate the monster had it been nothing more than an illusion.  Alewyth, too, had decided on joining the fight in person, having cast the spells she had on hand that were likely to be of use; now, she brought her warhammer _Sjondra_ crashing into the side of the dinosaur's head.  Behind it, Wakuren's shield went slamming into the base of its tail.  But the simple-minded dinosaur was still focused on the cooshee, butting its head in the canine's direction while the elven dog ducked under the blow and scooted off to the side again.

But now the cooshee was getting new orders from his master, for Zander had seen Dolmarr flee the scene and realized that weird staff was the key to getting the dinosaur sent back to where it had come from.  "Go get the staff, boy!" he called to his elven dog, and in an instant the cooshee had darted out of the tent, running down Dolmarr before he had gotten too far down the road.  He snapped his teeth over the end of the wooden staff and tugged it out of Dolmarr's grip; in truth, the wizard's apprentice wasn't willing to put up much of a fight.  He continued his staggered run back toward Grimblegrack's cottage, while the cooshee, tail wagging, trotted back with the staff held proudly in his grip, realizing he was indeed a very good boy.

A final _magic missile_ spell from Zander's fingertips finished off the pachycephalosaurus and it collapsed to the ground on its side with a solid thud.  Seeing it lying lifelessly on the tent floor, the elven sorcerer backed out of the tent flaps to meet up with his eager cooshee.  Back in the tent, Thurloe and Alewyth held their weapons at the ready, not sure if the danger was indeed over with, for they could still hear the sounds of unseen buzzing insects emanating from the parts of the Talonian jungle they still couldn't see.  That idiot wizard had somehow turned a _scrying_ device into a _teleportation circle_ and as far as anybody could tell the circle was still in effect.

The last of the panicked villagers finally fled the tent, bumping straight into Xandro in his haste and falling backwards to land on a displaced Talonian plant.  And it was at that moment that Thurloe and Alewyth's fears were proven to be valid, for suddenly manifesting along one side of the circle of vegetation came three more dinosaurs, creeping stealthily.

These three had the same general build as the pachycephalosaurus - bipedal, with a tail held aloft behind them as a counterbalance - but there were several differences.  These three were much smaller than the knobby-headed monstrosity they were hunting, each with a mouth of sharp teeth denoting their carnivorous nature.  In addition, a large, curving talon rose from each foot like a displaced scythe.

The body of the pachycephalosaurus was over on the other side of the tent, but there was other living prey much closer at hand.  While two of the velociraptors snapped their wicked teeth at Wakuren, who was hard-pressed to keep them at bay behind his shield, the other darted forward and ripped the throat out of the prone villager lying on his back near the tent flaps.  This was the second death brought about as a result of Dolmarr Vingerman's ill-advised moneymaking scheme.

Wakuren went immediately on the offensive, slamming his shield into the side of the head of the first velociraptor to try to take a bite out of him.  Thurloe stepped forward and attacked the same one with his bastard sword, thinking to try to focus all of their attacks on one dinosaur at a time the better to take them out of the fight as quickly as possible.  Alewyth, however, was closer to the middle of the three velociraptors and chose to attack that one with her dwarven warhammer.  Shrieking in fury, the two dinosaurs snapped and clawed at Wakuren and Alewyth, the third one wandering back over to help his hunt-mates by attacking Thurloe instead of dining upon the villager whose throat he'd just ripped out.

Zander examined the staff his cooshee had just obediently dropped at his feet.  He'd seen a variety of magical devices in his lifetime and this one was without a doubt of gnomish design, for it lacked the sleek elegance of elven workmanship or even the detailed and no-nonsense deliberateness of those crafted by dwarves.  This, however, had "gnome" written all over it, from the short knobs that stuck out at the staff's top near the wide glass lens (some of which twisted, some of which could be pulled into different positions, and some of which could be pushed in or pulled out to different lengths) to the gems embedded at seemingly random places along its length and which glowed to different degrees when the various knobs and levers were fiddled with.  None of it made any sense to the elven sorcerer, who realized it was probably going to have to be a process of trial and error to figure out how to reverse the _teleportation circle_ effect or at least shut it off.

Wakuren sent his shield slamming into his velociraptor foe once again, eliciting a hiss of pain from the dinosaur.  He barely registered the sound of Xandro's tune of inspiration, as the bard had continued his performance-enhancing magical song to aid his friends in their various combats and had managed to keep playing even after having been nearly run over by the fleeing villager who had become prey to these savage dinosaurs.

Zander decided it would be best not to experiment with the staff until all of his friends were outside the current circle of effect; he didn't want to send them over to the savage continent of Talonia with no way to get them back.  With that thought in mind, he called out another order to his cooshee and the elven dog immediately complied, grabbing up the side of a tent flap in his teeth and pulling it aside so his master could see inside the tent's otherwise unlit interior.  Seeing the three small dinosaurs snapping at the other three heroes, Zander cast a _magic missile_ spell that finished off the velociraptor Wakuren had been fighting.  Thurloe activated another use of his _torc of the titans_, feeling the added strength flow through his limbs as he brought his blade slicing into the side of the velociraptor he'd been fighting off.  Alewyth sent _Sjondra_ slamming into the side of her own reptilian foe, which clawed back at her and tried grabbing her arm between its pointed teeth.  Wakuren brought the side of his shield slamming into the ribs of the velociraptor biting at Thurloe.

A whine from the cooshee denoted his desire to join in the fray, but Zander cautioned him to stay in place holding open the tent flap and fired off another _magic missile_ spell, slaying the second of the sleek predators.  Thurloe, no longer under attack, spun about and brought his bastard sword crashing down into the skull of the one attacking Alewyth, cleaving the beast's head in two.  Then, the current batch of reptilian monsters slain, Zander called for everyone to exit the tent so he could see about reversing the _teleportation circle_'s effects.  Staggering back outside, Alewyth and Wakuren took the opportunity to cast _cure light wounds_ spells upon themselves, healing up the worst of the bites and scratches they'd received during combat with their prehistoric foes.

But before Zander could even begin to try his experiments with the oddball staff, another figure came bursting into the circle of vegetation - and reptilian corpses - currently covering the tent's interior.  This was another dinosaur, smaller in size like the velociraptors but lacking their fearsome teeth and scythelike claws; this one was built more like a sleeker version of the pachycephalosaurus, likely also a planteater by nature.  However, this particular dinosaur was mounted by a strange-looking humanoid the heroes immediately mistook for a gnome, for he was the same general size and build of a gnome but with features (especially the nose) more to scale with that of a human or elf.  He was dressed in combat leathers and had some sort of face-paint covering his exposed skin, while his hair was entwined in thick clumps more than a little bit reminiscent of tentacles.  "Bondo quintessy?" the startled halfling called out as his riding mount slammed into the canvas tent, rebounded off, and started circling the interior looking for a way out of this structure that had suddenly sprung up around it.

"Hang on, we'll try to get you back!" Zander called to the little fellow, but the halfling gave no sign of having understood.  While Zander poked about with the staff, the halfling ranger tried to warn the strange elf (whose skin was much lighter than any elf he'd ever seen before in his life) of the danger rapidly approaching.  "Ziggurakk!" he cried.  "Bantu nobishky!"

Despite the unbridgeable gap in their respective understanding of foreign languages, the halfling's desperate warnings soon became evident when another pair of dinosaurs rushed onto the scene.  This was the pair of deinonychi who had caught the scent of the halfling's mount and had been chasing after them.  The deinonychi were in all respects save size built along the same frame as the velociraptors had been, right down to the curved toe claw sprouting up from each foot, but they towered over the halfling and his pony-sized dinosaur mount; they towered over even Thurloe, the tallest of the heroes.

Their momentum sent the deinonychi crashing into the same patch of tent wall the halfling's mount had ran into, but the predators' claws made quick work of the canvas and they popped out the side of the tent and in the midst of the horses and mules grazing contentedly while waiting for their trip to resume.  Pyrite saw the vicious carnivores and dashed off behind the wagon, while Horse, White, and Eddy ran off it different directions at top speed, one deinonychus snapping its wicked teeth at White as he passed but fortunately catching nothing more than a clump of mane as the panicked horse fled.  The mules, Mica and Perseverance, were still hooked up to the wagon and they started trying to flee in opposite directions, but fortunately they soon came to an agreement about which way they were going and the wagon lurched off to the left, across the road they'd been traversing and then onto the adjoining field on the other side.

Thurloe sighed in frustration at this fourth wave of reptilian intruders from afar, this pair the most dangerous-looking of the bunch.  He charged forward with his sword raised, channeling the last daily use of his magic torc to put as much power into the blow as he could.  The sword's blade sunk deep into the dinosaur's flesh, causing it to cry out in a roar of pain that could easily have been mistaken for the cry of a dragon.

Alewyth cast a _spiritual weapon_ spell and a hammer, very similar in size and shape to _Sjondra_ but composed entirely of force energy, manifested in the air before her and at her mental command went streaking to slam into the ribs of the second deinonychus.  Wakuren dashed back inside the tent to attack the first dinosaur - the one who had snapped at the horses - to hopefully draw its attention to him instead of their beasts of burden.  His shield slammed into the creature's tail, right where it joined the beast's torso.  Xandro's eyes bulged at the size of these new attackers but he steadfastly continued playing his melody, inspiring the others to greater and greater acts of heroism.

The cooshee dropped the tent flap from his mouth and darted forward to snap his teeth at the tail of the second deinonychus.  Zander cast another _magic missile_ spell at the same creature, hoping to bring it down quickly.  But the deinonychi had each decided upon a primary foe among these strange creatures attacking them in this strange land where suddenly it was full daytime, with one focusing on Thurloe and the other spinning about to snap at Wakuren, still back in the ripped tent.

Thurloe's blade and Alewyth's summoned _spiritual warhammer_ crashed into the same deinonychus at the same time, the dwarven priestess following up her mentally-controlled attack with a solid blow from _Sjondra_ after she charged at her reptilian foe.  The combination of attacks slew the massive dinosaur, who collapsed in place half outside the ruined tent.  Wakuren didn't notice the creature's demise, intent upon fighting off its partner without getting bitten in half.  The cooshee came to aid him, biting and clawing at the dinosaur's nearest leg while the massive beast snapped its jaws at the half-orc combatant before it.  And then Thurloe's blade struck it from the other side, as Alewyth redirected her _spiritual weapon_ before it blinked back out of existence after having struck a final blow at the remaining deinonychus's head.  _Sjondra_ went slamming into the monster's leg and Xandro, seeing that this was the last remaining foe and it looked to be losing steam quickly, set down his lute, pulled out his rapier, and charged it.  He buried the blade into its body up to the hilt, pulling it back out just in time to see it fall over like a felled tree.

The halfling and his dinosaur mount had made it outside through the tent flap and the little humanoid was babbling excitedly in his strange language.  "Anybody got a means of translating what he's saying?" asked Xandro.  "Or making him understand what we're saying?"  The spellcasters among them all searched their spell inventories and came up short.

"You got that blasted staff figured out yet?" called Thurloe, wanting to shut the _teleportation circle_ before anything else got shunted over.  Zander was having no luck with it; what probably seemed completely straightforward to a gnome wizard was nowhere near to being obvious to the frazzled elven sorcerer.

But then a pair of figures approached from the north.  One was an angry-looking gnome stomping down the road with one arm raised above his head; the other was Delmarr Vingerman, hobbling in a bent-over posture but only because his master had a death grip upon his right earlobe and was dragging him along.  Fluttering beside the gnome was his familiar, a hummingbird who flitted about this way and that in apparent agitation.

"What the Hell is going on over here?" demanded Grimblegrack Fishmelon upon seeing the shredded tent and the corpses of various dinosaurs laying strewn about on the dirt.  Alewyth veered over to fill him on his apprentice's role in accidentally bringing a series of dinosaurs across from one continent to another.  The gnome wizard looked at the carnage - including the two dead villagers - and closed his eyes, holding his fingers at the bridge of his prodigious nose as if fighting off an extreme headache.  "Okay, you, elf: give me the staff," he demanded, holding out a hand.  Zander passed the staff over to Grimblegrack without a word.  The gnome held it up, focused it on the circle of vegetation and dead dinosaurs, and started pulling levers and twisting knobs.  Various gemstones lit up and blinked on and off, and with a pop of compressed air the center of the damaged tent was once again as it had been.  One of the velociraptors, and both of the deinonychi, however, were still lying where they had fallen as they were outside of the circle.

The heroes were quickly dispatched to fetch their fleeing animals and bring them back, in part so the horses and mules could be used to drag the bigger deinonychi into the center of the tent so Grimblegrack could reverse the _teleportation circle_ effect and send them back to Talonia.

"What about the other gnome?" Alewyth asked.

"What other gnome?" Grimblegrack demanded.

"The one on the dinosaur," the dwarven priestess replied, pointing at what she considered to be a gnome in dreadlocks.

"That's a _halfling!_" sputtered the gnome wizard, clearly offended that these heroes couldn't tell the difference between a dinosaur-riding savage and a noble gnome schooled in the wizardly arts.  But through a series of pantomimes they convinced the halfling to enter the tent.  In a flash he was gone, returned to his home continent once more.  "I'd've thought the nose was a dead giveaway," grumbled Grimblegrack to himself.

In the end, though, he thanked the heroes for their assistance in taking down the dinosaurs his idiot apprentice had inadvertently brought over, and in keeping the subsequent deaths to a minimum.  "You realize we're going to have to pay to have them both _raised_ if we expect to keep your neck out of the hangman's noose," he said to Delmarr, who blanched visibly.

"Can you use that staff to _teleport_ anybody anywhere?" asked Thurloe, already thinking of a way he might wheedle the gnomish wizard into helping them along on their way.

"Within some limits," Grimblegrack answered.  "I'd need to scry on the other end of the _teleportation circle_ first to establish the link.  Why?  Do you need to be somewhere?"

In the end, Grimblegrack agreed to set up a _teleportation circle_ the group could use to travel immediately to the outskirts of the village of Pendlewick, where their next dream victim was supposed to be.  There was no real hurry, but Thurloe was eager to shave off any time he could from the trip.  And the gnome gave them another token as thanks for their assistance in slaying the dinosaurs and helping to clean up the mess afterwards: a small metal chest, the size of a loaf of banana bread.  Opening it, Thurloe saw it was filled with an assortment of hard candies that had apparently been there for so long they had fused into one connected mass.  "Uh, thanks," he said to the wizard, not wanting to offend him.

That finally brought a smile to the sour gnome's face.  "The candy's an illusion," he said, chuckling.  "It's an extradimensional space inside.  It won't be useful in carrying any large items you might have, but I've found it to be a good method of transporting large quantities of coins and gems."  The fighter's eyebrows raised at that; it would be _much_ easier carrying around their collected treasure in such a small chest than the larger ones they had in the back of the mule wagon.

"And I believe my idiot apprentice Dolmarr has the first of the coins you might wish to take with you," prompted Grimblegrack.

With a sheepish look, Dolmarr reached into his coin purse and returned the twenty pieces of silver he'd collected from Alewyth, Thurloe, Wakuren, and Zander as payment to see the wondrous creatures he'd promised to show them from inside the tent.

 - - -

We had some scheduling issues with this session; Harry had a school chorus picnic from 11:00 to 1:00 and Dan, Vicki, and Joe had a birthday party they needed to hit in the early evening so they wanted a "no later than" finishing time of 4:30.  So, rather than run the original adventure I had planned for this session, in which they'd meet up with the next dreamer trapped inside their own dreams, I swapped it for this one which was to have taken place after that one.  I knew this adventure was a much shorter one, basically one extended encounter stretched out in waves at a single location, and figured we should be able to finish it off in about two hours.  I was pretty close: we started at 1:30 and finished up at 3:35.  So the next time we play - in two weeks, as both families will be out of town next Saturday - we'll run through "Middlewich Manor," the adventure I had originally intended to be adventure #13.

 - - -

T-shirt worn: My "Duck Dynasty" T-shirt, if only because it shows four bearded faces, any one of which could have stood in for the gnome wizard Grimblegrack Fishmelon, if you squinted hard enough.


----------



## Richards (Sep 13, 2021)

*ADVENTURE 14: MIDDLEWICH MANOR*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 3​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 1/paladin 2​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 3​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 3​
Game Session Date: 11 September 2021

 - - -

Riding their various mounts and the mule-driven wagon through Grimblegrack Fishmelon's _teleportation circle_, the group of adventurers found themselves miles ahead down the road and just outside the edge of the village of Pendlewick.  "Ah, good," observed Thurloe with a sense of satisfaction (and not a little relief) in his voice; the fighter tended to be distrustful of people he didn't know well and wouldn't have been too surprised if the gnome's magic had ended up sending them far off their intended course.

But such was not the case; this was indeed Pendlewick and now the only problem was in finding the sleeping victim Mogo said was isolated somewhere in the village.  They stopped in at a local pub, not only because it was usually a good source of gossip but also because the team was ready for a hearty lunch.  Talking to the regulars there, though, produced no specifics, for nobody was aware of anyone in town who'd been asleep for a span of time and couldn't be awakened.

The team expanded their circle of inquiries as they explored the village, getting no definite answers.  Eventually Xandro expanded their questions to see if there was anyone in town who hadn't been seen for some time; after all, a dream coma would be a possible explanation for someone's sudden removal from daily life.  That got some supposition, if nothing else: there was a widow woman, *Lady Camilla Middlewich*, who lived in an old run-down manor at the far edge of town who didn't get out much; she lived there in her husband's estate with a housekeeper and small handful of maids.  "Come to think of it, I know a few of them maids by sight, and none of them have been around the marketplace for some time now," recalled an elderly merchant running a vegetable cart in the market.

"That might be worth checking out," agreed Alewyth.  They got directions to the Middlewich estate but then Thurloe suggested they check it out the next morning.  "It's getting late, we're all tired, and you spellcasters would be better off getting a good night's sleep and having a fresh batch of spells in the morning - you never know what we might meet up with."  Reluctantly, Alewyth agreed with the fighter; she'd cast most of her most powerful spells in fighting off those dinosaurs earlier that morning and Zander was in no better shape.  They found an inn, got rooms for the night, and started out fresh the next morning heading out to Middlewich Manor.

The manor house had seen better days, for there were shingles missing from the roof and the place could use a fresh coat of paint.  What had once been a lovely bed of flowers on either side of the front steps were now starting to be overgrown with encroaching weeds.  Still, Wakuren had high hopes that this would be an easy mission; he strode up the steps to the front door and boldly knocked four times, standing in the alcove and waiting for the door to open.  He stood there waiting for some time before knocking again, holding his ear to the door to see if he could hear any signs of life inside the manor.  "Anything?" asked Alewyth.

"Nothing," admitted the half-orc.  "Doesn't sound like anybody's home."

"Maybe they're _all_ in a dream coma," suggested Xandro, only half seriously.

"I'm sure Mogo would have noticed that," Thurloe replied, kicking his horse Horse into moving around the manor house; maybe they were out back or something.  There was a vast, open field behind the manor house and Thurloe spotted a deer over by the small forest at the edge of the field.  But after having determined the deer was no threat, he focused his attention back to the manor house - and immediately saw one of the two ground-level windows leading into the basement was broken.

Dismounting from Horse, Thurloe hunkered down and peered in through the broken window.  The basement level inside was unlit but for the light streaming through the two windows, and it wasn't much at that for not only was Thurloe blocking most of the broken window with his body but the other one was streaked with dust and dirt.  He could make out a small pile of crates and boxes stacked up between the windows and some sort of shelving off to the left, and that was about it.  Still, it provided a means of entering the manor house; walking Horse around the rest of the dwelling Thurloe found another door - opening into a kitchen, from the looks of it - but it too was locked.  He returned and met back up with the others, still waiting at the front door.  "No answer?" he asked, realizing after he'd said it that the answer to that question was patently obvious.  Before anybody could respond he told them about the broken window he'd found out back.

"Well, I suppose if we're going to break in it makes sense to go in the same way somebody else has already broken in," Wakuren opined.  He wasn't exactly thrilled with the concept of entering a house uninvited, but now there was a bit of concern about what might have happened to the ladies living inside this house.

"I hope everyone's okay in there," Alewyth worried, echoing Wakuren's concern.

The group tied up their mounts to trees flanking the walkway to the manor house and Thurloe led everyone to the broken window.  Zander squatted down, stuck his head inside, and his keen elven vision picked up a few more details that Thurloe's limited human vision hadn't been able to make out.  "Racks of wine bottles off to the left," he said.  "Covered in dust and cobwebs.  But it looks to be deserted."  He began pulling shards of broken glass from the window frame in preparation of climbing into the basement.

"Window was broken into, not out of," observed Xandro, noting the lack of glass shards in the dirt outside the house and the glint of broken glass on the basement floor.  But then the elven sorcerer had cleaned out the window frame to his satisfaction and slipped inside, dropping down into the dark basement.  He immediately detected movement off to his left.  Looking down, he was startled to see what he first thought to be a length of intestine crawling his way.  Involuntarily stepping back away from the animated organ, he saw another one creeping forward on his right.  Suddenly the steps away from the crawling creatures was no longer involuntary; Zander ran to the other end of the basement, away from what he now realized were some kind of worm-things, rather like a carrion crawler without the writhing tentacles around its mouth.  "Look out - some kind of giant worms in here!" he called back to the others.

Thurloe fished a sunrod from his backpack - if he was going to go fight giant worms in a damp basement, he was going to go in at least able to see his foes.  But Xandro shimmied into the window, dropping down to his feet and pulling the rapier from its scabbard at his hip in one fluid motion.  One of the gutslugs was practically at his feet so he stabbed forward, piercing the tip of his weapon into the gastropod's side.  A wide maw opened at the front of the thing, revealing rows of sharp teeth, but it made no sound.

With a much louder noise, Wakuren dropped down from the window opening.  He saw Xandro fighting one of these slug-things and spun around to try to find the other, his darkvision allowing him to see just fine even in the dim lighting.  Spotting it, he slammed the edge of his shield down upon the second gutslug, cutting a gash along its top that oozed some sort of blood or ichor.  But when he raised his shield back up, the gutslug darted forward with a greater speed than the half-orc would have credited it with; he dodged the strike at his legs and stepped over the thing, only to have it bite him from behind, catching him in the gap just below the bottom of his upper armor.  With a sickening feeling, Wakuren felt the rows of sharp teeth pierce through his skin as the vile creature began sucking out his blood.

The second gutslug had similarly bitten at Xandro but the nimble bard managed to back off before the vile worm could get a firm grip on him.  But then Alewyth dropped into the basement through the window and saw Wakuren's predicament: he was thrashing about but unable to strike a creature adhered to his own back.  She swung Sjondra at the vile worm but the half-orc's wild thrashing around caused her to miss completely.  Fortunately, Zander had by this time conquered his fear and stepped forward, casting a _magic missile_ spell at the gutslug adhered to Wakuren's back.  And then a lit sunrod was tossed into the basement, followed almost immediately by Thurloe, bastard sword in hand.  One careful stab with his blade cut through the gutslug without piercing Wakuren as well.  The creature fell to the ground in a pool of blood, some of it no doubt Wakuren's.

Xandro managed to pin the other gutslug in place with his rapier and cut through it with a twist of his wrist.  It too died, lying motionless on the basement floor as Thurloe cleaned his blade and retrieved his sunrod.  Then the group gave the basement a cursory examination, finding no additional gutslugs crawling around anywhere.  Wakuren opened a door leading to shelves of canned goods and rotting vegetables, a root cellar of sorts.  Alewyth stepped up beside the half-orc and pointed out the footprints in some spilled flour on the floor.  "Rats, by the look of it," she said.

"Lovely," replied Wakuren.  "This is quite the manor house so far."

There was a set of stairs over on the side of the basement across from the windows.  They led up into the kitchen, which both looked like it had seen plenty of use but at the same time not very recently, judging by the light scattering of dust covering the counters and the table.  "The maids haven't been doing their jobs," Wakuren pointed out.  Then he led the group into a dining room, a living area, and back to the front door just to make sure they'd covered the entire ground floor before taking another set of stairs up the second floor.  The layers of dust on everything told that nobody had been here recently to disturb anything.

"This is kind of creepy," Alewyth admitted, gripping her warhammer _Sjondra _tightly.

Heading up stairs, Wakuren in the lead, the first door they came to was an empty bedroom.  The bed had been made and once the half-orc peeked inside a closet and found a series of dresses and aprons, they deduced this had been the housekeeper's room.  But it was as empty and dusty as the rest of the house.  Wakuren moved on.

The next door down the upper hallway seemed to be stuck, and when Wakuren forced it open he saw why: it had been trapped, causing a full-length mirror to be pulled from the wall to come crashing down upon his head.  He shook his head, flinging shards of broken mirror in all directions.  "Great: now I have seven years of bad luck," he commented wryly.

"Who would have done that?" asked Zander, puzzled.

"Yeah, and why?" added Alewyth.

"More importantly," pointed out Wakuren, "how did they get out of the room after setting the trap -- or are they still here?"  He entered the room cautiously, shield held before him.  But after finding two single beds (both made) and maids' uniforms hanging in the closet, Wakuren had no idea what was going on.  He examined the twine that had been attached from the doorknob to the mirror and asked Zander to step inside with him.  "There aren't invisible creatures in here with us, by any chance, are there?" he asked the elf in a quiet voice, recalling there were pixies or some other type of fairy that could turn themselves invisible and had a penchant for playing tricks.  Zander activated his magic goggles as he pulled them over his eyes, giving the whole room a quick scan.  "Nothing," he reported back.  As long as the _see invisibility_ powers of the goggles were active, he backtracked into the housekeeper's room as well but found nothing there either.

Wakuren, in the meantime, had come up to the next door in line.  It too didn't want to open, but the half-orc didn't feel like having another mirror shatter on his head so he took a step back and kicked the door in with his booted foot.  Surprisingly, this only produced a scraping sound from off to the left of the room's interior, as the half-orc noted there was a length of twine attached from the doorknob to a bedpost or something preventing the door from being fully opened.  He thought briefly about trying to squeeze in through the gap in the door, then asked for a dagger.  Zander passed him over a dagger and Wakuren used it to cut through the twine, allowing the door to open fully.

And that's when the dozen creatures inside the second maids' bedroom attacked.

Scrambling out from underneath the two beds were half a dozen rats, each of them mounted by a wrinkly little man no more than a foot tall.  They swarmed up to the surprised half-orc, the rats biting with their wicked little rodents' teeth and the jermlaine in the front ranks stabbing out with their tiny little spears while those behind them threw darts at the follower of Cal.  Wakuren staggered backwards a step under the surprising assault, but Zander stepped forward with a scroll in hand and cast a _color spray_ at the assembled horde.  The spell took out half of the rats and their riders, the spell's energy both blinding them and stunning them into sudden immobility.

Thurloe, however, was at the end of the single-file line going methodically down the hallway and by now he was bored.  There was another door on this side of the hallway and on a whim he opened it.  It opened into a sitting room, complete with a comfortable-looking sofa and low table before it, a pair of chairs and footstools, and more importantly to the fighter a well-stocked bar with a dusty bottle of brandy atop it.  Thurloe unstoppered the brandy bottle, sniffed it, and took an appreciative swig - not bad!  Then he passed through the room and opened the door at the far end.

That was more like it!  This next room was the master bedroom and there on the double bed was no doubt Lady Camilla Middlewich herself.  Thurloe wasn't sure what he had expected the noblewoman to look like, but one thing he hadn't anticipated was her being completely bald.  But bald she was, the skin of her head shiny in the light of Thurloe's sunrod, for the curtains were all pulled on the windows of the bedroom.  Thurloe stepped inside and gave a quick check to the two other doors in the room - a walk-in closet and a bathroom, respectively - before absently commenting to the comatose noblewoman, "Well, your hired help seems to have left you to fend for yourself, my lady.  Nice bunch, that.  But don't worry, we should have you up and about and hiring replacements in no time."

Xandro, in the meantime, had begun playing his song of courage on his lute, hoping to aid those of his friends able to fight of whatever was in the room at the end of the hallway.  Wakuren had crushed a pair of both jermlaine and rats beneath his shield, putting all of his weight upon it.  Alewyth scooted into the room and used _Sjondra _to crush another rat and its rider into pulp, while Zander cast a _magic missile_ spell into the room, sending one missile into the body of a fleeing rat and another into the wrinkled body of the jermlaine riding bareback upon it, sending both skittering lifelessly into a heap upon the bedroom floor.  That left only two of each remaining, and without any hesitation they made a dash for the far closet, the jermlaine leaping from their rodent mounts' backs and all four squeezing beneath the closed closet door.

Thurloe called down the hallway that he'd found their dreamer, but Wakuren took the time to open the maids' closet door and crush the remaining rats and jermlaine underneath his shield before going to go see Lady Middlewich.  The group convened inside the master bedroom, looking down at the bald noblewoman.

"How do we want to do this?" asked Alewyth.  "I don't want any more of those little buggers sneaking in here while we're all asleep, getting the Lady Camilla out of her dreams."

"We could take her outside to the wagon," suggested Xandro.  "I'm sure the horses and the goat could handle any jermlaine that might show up."

"Nah," scoffed Thurloe.  "Close the door and stuff some towels or something underneath the door so they can't get in.  It's not like they're tall enough to use a doorknob."

"It's not like they couldn't pull the towels out from underneath the door," countered Alewyth, looking nervously at the noblewoman's bald head.  She wasn't particularly vain, but she sure didn't want her own brown locks sheared off like she was a sheep or a rothé!

"Here we go," offered up Zander, pulling out his _figurine of wondrous power_ and activating it with a command word.  In an instant the statuette became a full-sized elven dog.

"You ever going to name that thing?" Thurloe asked.

"There's no rush," Zander replied.  "Better to wait for the perfect name to come to me."  _But then_, the elf thought, _what else could one expect from a short-lived human, who always seemed to feel the need to rush-rush-rush about everything, let alone one with the overwhelming creativity to name his horse "Horse"?_  "In any case, he can stand watch over us as we go into the dreamlands."

That decided, the group pulled Lady Camilla's bed into the middle of the room while Alewyth tied a scarf from one of her dresser drawers around the noblewoman's head, placing a dreamstone up against her brow.  Then she passed a dreamstone to each of her companions and they positioned themselves around the bed in a circle, each sitting cross-legged and slowing their breathing in the way their moogle guides had taught them.  One by one, they fell into sleep and found themselves standing in the dreamlands, where their individual moogle guides led them to the Corridor of Dreams.  Mogo fluttered in the air, waiting for them.

"In you go and good luck, kupo!" called Mogo, and the five entered Lady Camilla's dream.

"Oh dear," said Alewyth upon seeing this particular dreamscape for the first time.  The light was a hellish red, spilling up from a crevasse ahead of them that was apparently filled with molten magma.  Hanging on a thin strand of webbing over the chasm was Lady Camilla, her body bound up in a tight-fitting cocoon and hanging from a line of webbing being held by the biggest spider the dreamwalkers had ever seen.

"Don't let it get me!" sobbed Lady Camilla as the spider grabbed up the web in its hindmost pair of legs and began pulling her toward it.

As one, the five dreamwalkers grabbed up the other end of the web-line (which was just sitting on the ground by their feet, in direct violation of normal physics - but dream logic was freed from the realities of the Mortal World) and tugged on it, halting the noblewoman's movement towards the massive arachnid.

"Pull!" commanded Thurloe, in the front of the line of heroes.  He realized if they lost this particular tug-of-war he was going to be the first one to fall over the edge of the chasm into the magma below.  Sure, he wouldn't actually die if he "died" in a dream, but he still didn't want to experience plunging into lava, dream or no dream.

The heroes strained with all their might and managed to pull Lady Camilla back into the center of the chasm.  "We can't use our dreamstones with both hands on the rope!" pointed out Alewyth.  In the past, they'd occasionally been able to channel power through their dreamstones to weaken their dream-foes, going all the way back to their first battle against the dream fox chasing down the wizard Grimboldt.  But to use their dreamstones they needed to hold them out at their foes, in much the same way a cleric held out his or her holy symbol when turning undead.

Wakuren had an idea.  "Zander!" he called out.  "You're the weakest of the five of us!  Drop the web-line and use your dreamstone to try to weaken the spider!"  The elven sorcerer dropped the line and held out his dreamstone at the spider, somewhat embarrassed at having been pointed out as the group's physical weakest member but stoically acknowledging it was the honest truth.  He focused his will against the spider but failed to hold his concentration enough; Lady Camilla was yanked closer to the spider.

"Again!  Try harder!" commanded Thurloe, tugging at the line for all he was worth.  The others behind him did likewise as Zander concentrated on weakening the spider across the chasm from them.  This time it worked and the noblewoman was pulled closer to their side of the gap.  There was a bit of back-and-forth for a bit, but eventually Lady Camilla was close enough for Thurloe to pluck her cocoon from the web-line and drop her onto solid ground on their side of the magma crevasse.  Then it was a matter of cutting away the cocoon before she stood on her own, safe and sound.  It was only then that Thurloe realized this dream version of Lady Camilla Middlewich had a full head of white hair piled high on her head in an elaborate style.  She was going to be in for a bit of a shock when she woke up....

And she was waking up, for the dreamscape around the heroes started fading.  "Back to the Waking World," Thurloe told the others, using the dreamwalker training he'd received to instantly wake himself up from the noblewoman's dream.  Around him, the others started blinking out as they forced themselves awake, until finally only Xandro was left standing there by himself.  Across the chasm, the spider had turned around and was glaring at him in the fading light, its eyes eight pinpoints of reddish light as the illumination from the dimming magma below started to fade.

"Um guys?" the bard called out nervously.  "I can't seem to wake up.  _I can't wake up!"_

The dreamscape went to total blackness all around him, leaving only the faint outline of a doorway in view.  Xandro scrambled over to it, pulled the door open, and stepped back into the Corridor of Dreams.  "Good work, kupo!" praised Mogo, before a frown crossed his kittenish face.  "...but, why are you still here, kupo?  Shouldn't you get back to the Waking World with the others, kupo?"

"That's just the thing -- I can't!" Xandro answered, starting to worry about what might have caused him to be unable to leave the dreamlands.

Back in Lady Camilla's bedroom, the elderly noblewoman was quite startled to find herself surrounded by a group of strangers she'd never met before - for the details of her nightmare were starting to fade now that she was awake.  "Who are you?" she demanded, a hand raising instinctively to hold the top of her nightgown closed at her throat.  "What do you want?"  And then she shrieked aloud, having made a disturbing discovery.  _"And what have you done with my hair?"_

"Guys: problems!" Zander warned, looking over at the open door to the bedroom and the statuette of the cooshee lying on its side.  He wasn't sure how they'd done it, but apparently the jermlaine had overcome his elven dog and forced it back into statuette form.  Then he looked around the room, and added, "Hey!  Where's Xandro?"

But Xandro was not in the room with the rest of the group and the hysterical noblewoman.  Alewyth did her best to calm her down and catch her back up to speed about how much time had passed while Thurloe sprang into action.  "Look: drag marks!" he said, pointing down at the floral carpet in the bedroom and adjoining sitting room.  "They took Xandro this way!"  And with that the three men were off, leaving Alewyth to promise Lady Camilla that things would be okay and that they'd be back to explain everything.  Then she raced off to try to catch up with the rest of the group, realizing wryly she had the shortest legs of the five of them.

Thurloe followed the drag marks down the stairs, across the library and dining room and into the kitchen.  From there, he could hear the clunking sounds of something - likely Xandro's head - hitting each of the steps leading down into the basement as he was dragged by his enemies.  Damn those wretched jermlaine!  The fighter sped on down the stairs, Zander right behind him; Wakuren, in his heavier armor, was falling a bit behind.

Clomping down the stairs, Thurloe saw Xandro being pulled by a rope around his ankles across the basement floor.  But it wasn't jermlaine towing him; instead, these creatures were twice the size of the little foot-tall jermlaine, although they hunched forward to the point their clawed pincers nearly dragged on the floor.  They had tiny legs and twisted pincers in place of hands, with large eyes and a bristle-headed countenance giving an insectoid appearance.  Thurloe had no idea what these creatures were, but they didn't bode well for poor Xandro!

They didn't bode well for Thurloe either, as it turned out.  As one, the eight meenlocks turned to face the human fighter and blasted him with their mind-rending attacks.  Zander, rushing in behind Thurloe, didn't actually see the eight figures do anything but stare at Thurloe, and all of a sudden the fighter was collapsing into an unconscious heap at the foot of the stairs.

To his credit, Zander Quilson didn't hesitate a moment before leaping into battle against a troop of foes that had managed to take out two of their number already.  He dashed to the side of the meenlocks, lined up in two rows of four on either side of the rope tied around Xandro's ankles, and repeated the same tactic that had worked so well against the jermlaine upstairs: reading the words of a second _color spray_ spell from another scroll.  This time the effects were even better than they had been against the jermlaine, for a full five of the eight meenlocks froze up, blinded and stunned into temporary immobility.

By then Wakuren had made it to the kitchen stairs and was clumping down the steps.  He leaped over the unconscious Thurloe and stabbed down at the closest meenlock, not even wondering why the thing just stood there instead of trying to dodge the bottom edge of the half-orc's shield.  The meenlock's skull split open from the force of the shield's blow and it died immediately.  Behind him, he could hear Alewyth's booted feet on the floor of the kitchen.

Unable to immediately use their mind-rending attack again, the three still-mobile meenlocks made a rush for Zander, hoping to tear him apart in their claws.  Their sharp pincers snapped at the sorcerer's legs, causing the elf to cry out in pain, but he quickly shook them off, took a step back himself, and blasted one of them with a _magic missile_ spell.  It fell backwards against one of its still-stunned partners, the two of them collapsing together in a heap.

Wakuren took out another stunned meenlock with his shield when he heard a confused grunt from behind him.  Sparing a moment from his frenzied combat, the half-orc saw with some relief Thurloe was pulling himself into a sitting position, one hand holding the side of his head.  "Wh' 'appen?" he mumbled in confusion.

Alewyth dashed down into the basement and lent Sjondra to the meenlock-bashing party.  The warhammer slammed a stunned meenlock flat against the wall, crushing it instantly.  At that point, the two meenlocks still capable of movement made a run for it, dashing into the shadows of the back wall near the rows of wine bottles - where, Zander noticed, there was hole burrowed into the side of the brick.  Zander, Wakuren, and Alewyth took out the remaining meenlocks still blinded and stunned from the elf's spell before bringing a befuddled Thurloe up to speed.  They tried waking Xandro, but the poor bard was out cold.  Alewyth took it upon herself to look over him while the others decided on their next course of action.

Eventually, given the cramped size of the tunnel in the side of the basement wall (which would require a person to crawl forward on his or her belly and which would make wielding a weapon all but impossible), it was decided their best bet was to send in the elf.  After all, Zander didn't need a weapon; he could fire off a _magic missile_ spell even inside the cramped confines of a meenlock tunnel.  So Wakuren healed up all of the elf's wounds (and even cast a _virtue_ spell on him to give him that extra little bit of staying power), then Zander crawled forth into the tunnel for some solo combat.  He was in there for quite a while, causing some initial worry, but when the sorcerer returned it was with a small bit of accumulated treasure, the few valuables he'd found in the small side caverns he'd unearthed after having slain the two remaining meenlocks with his spells.  There was a silver ring, a holy symbol of Infernia, Goddess of Love, and a few coins.

"And that's not all," Zander told the others.  "I found some rags in their living quarters, from the clothing some of them wore before being transformed into meenlocks.  It was maids' outfits, with their aprons and everything."

"You mean...?" began Alewyth, a look of dawning horror on her dwarven features.

"Yeah," admitted Zander.  "Lady Camilla's maids didn't abandon her - they were probably taken, one by one, and turned into those...things."

Shortly thereafter Alewyth was successful in finally rousing Xandro, who was as woozy as Thurloe.  But they returned to Lady Camilla and Alewyth took the lead in explaining everything to the elderly noblewoman.  Lady Camilla's eyes widened in horror at the tale of what had happened to her housekeeper and maids.  "Oh, poor *Agnes*," she said, thinking of the housekeeper who'd been with her since Lord Middlewich had still been alive.  "And to think the same thing would probably have happened to me..." began Lady Camilla, running a hand over her bald head.

"Yeah," agreed Wakuren.  "But the jermlaine probably fought them off, not wanting to lose their source of hair.  You, stuck as you were in a dream coma, were the perfect source of hair for the jermlaine."

Lady Camilla insisted on rewarding the heroes for their help with bottles from her late husband's wine collection - two bottles each and she wouldn't take "no" for an answer.  She also gave them two dozen longbow arrows, explaining her late husband had enjoyed hunting but she'd never get any use out of them now.  "You might as well have them, if they'll be some use to you."

The heroes opted to spend a second night in the inn, since Alewyth was the only one capable of casting the spell necessary to fully restore Xandro and Thurloe's full faculties and she didn't have any _lesser restoration_ spells readily available at the moment.  "It'll probably take a couple castings each to get you both up to speed," she warned them.

"Don' matter," mumbled Thurloe.  "Be worth it.  Head feels all..."  He stumbled to find the right word.

"Mungly," offered up Xandro, feeling quite out of it himself and not really sure what he was saying.

"Yeah," agreed Thurloe.  "That."

 - - -

Harry was not a fan of Xandro having been drained down to 0 Wisdom (and thus forced into unconsciousness, although that wasn't really noticeable in the dreamscape) by the meenlocks while the PCs were all asleep and basically helpless.  (I hadn't counted on the cooshee, but that just meant it took longer for the meenlocks to knock him out first before getting into the master bedroom and picking their next target for meenlock conversion.)  I only had them pick on Xandro because he had the lowest Wisdom score and it made sense to me that a group of creatures who drained Wisdom would have some sort of innate sense of who would make the easiest victim.  But he was grumbling that he was out for the count for the rest of the adventure because Alewyth, the only cleric high enough to cast _lesser restoration_ spells, hadn't prepared one of those that morning.

So I implemented an impromptu rules change for meenlock Wisdom drains: every round, the unconscious victim got to roll a d10 and if it came up a "0", they would spontaneously "heal" back up to 1 Wisdom, at least allowing them back into the game.  (That nicely paralleled the rule for stabilizing when you're at negative hit points and "bleeding out.")  But Harry's dice didn't cooperate, and then to make matters worse Dan's did when he soon thereafter found himself in a similar position.

We finished this adventure up in about two hours, so we all opted to press on with the next one as well in the same game session.

 - - -

T-shirt worn: My "Red Cross" T-shirt that I got free for donating blood once.  Lacking anything more appropriate, I decided the "blood" connection tied in with the gutslugs the PCs fought in the basement at the beginning of the adventure.


----------



## Richards (Sep 16, 2021)

*ADVENTURE 15: OVERNIGHT VISITORS*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 3​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 1/paladin 2​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 3​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 3​
Game Session Date: 11 September 2021

 - - -

The sound of hooves racing towards them from behind caused Wakuren to lead the mules Perseverance and Mica over to the right hand side of the road, anticipating somebody needed to get by them in a hurry.  But as they got closer, the two riders slowed their mounts and matched the group's leisurely pace.  Thurloe, Alewyth, Xandro and Zander looked over from the saddles of their own respective mounts and saw the two newcomers were paladins of Telgrane, the God of Fire.  This was evident not only by the holy symbols and the fire emblems on the armor they wore and the shields they carried over one arm, but also by their horribly disfigured faces, for paladins of Telgrane found beauty in the marks seared into mortal flesh by the holy touch of fire, and their own healing spells left such burn marks as they were.

"Greetings," one called out to the group at large.  "Have you been traveling all this day?"

"Aye, since shortly after sunup," replied Alewyth, "stopping only for meals and the occasional relief break."

"We bring warning," the other replied, looking over at Thurloe with suspicious eyes.  "There have been reports of bandits along this stretch of road."  Thurloe looked right back at the scarred paladin, not liking the way the holy man was looking at him but not willing to be the first to break eye contact.  Eventually, the paladin looked away and the fighter mentally congratulated himself for having won this particular staring contest.  "Be alert," cautioned the other paladin, and then with a flick of their reins the pair brought their light horses galloping down the road ahead of the slower-moving group.

"Nice bunch," muttered Thurloe, who hadn't really liked the looks of either of them; _choosing_ to walk around with horrible-looking scars was just weird to him, even if they weren't painful to the paladins - it evinced a particular zealotry the fighter found distasteful.  But then they passed a sign advertising it being 10 more miles to the town of Shandoh Valley and his face lit up.  "Hey!" he said.  "My aunt and uncles live near here!  I bet we can stay overnight with them before pressing on in the morning."  It was late afternoon and he figured they could make it by suppertime, which would be especially fortuitous because his *Aunt Charlotte* was an excellent cook.

But the skied clouded over and the rains started not soon afterwards, and the going got slower in the downpour.  As a result, it was after sundown by the time the group rode up to the Pulver residence, where Charlotte and *Marten Pulver*, the couple who had raised Thurloe since he was little and his own parents had been killed, lived in their two-story house.  Marten's leatherworking shop stuck out of the side of the building's lower level.

Thurloe slid off of Horse and walked up to the front door, giving it a good solid knocking to be heard over the rain, which fortunately was starting to slow down and become a drizzle.  He was soaked to the skin, though, as were all of them, and couldn't wait to get inside and dry off.  And knowing his Aunt Charlotte, she'd be willing to whip up some vittles even though dinnertime had come and gone....

The door opened and there stood Uncle Marten.  "Thurloe!" he said, surprise in his voice.  "I didn't know you were going to be in town!"  His eyebrows, which had risen in surprise in unexpectedly seeing his nephew, now furrowed in a frown.  "You should have let us know you were coming, boy...this really isn't a good time for a visit...."

"No?" asked Thurloe, his own face taking on the semblance of a frown.  "Why not?"

"Well, we've got visitors," replied Marten, stealing a glance over his shoulder.  "From out of town.  Could mean big business for us, they're looking to order a whole lot of leather goods...say!  Why don't you head on over to *Claude*'s and stay the night there?  We can meet up in the morning, after our visitors have gone.  They'll just be here the one night."

"Yeah?" asked Thurloe.  "Okay, that'll work."  He turned back and motioned for Wakuren to come over to the front door by him and the half-orc complied, tying the end of the mules' reins to the wagon and stepping down.  "Hey, Uncle Marten, you don't think Uncle Claude will have any issues with having a half-orc stay overnight at his place with us, do you?  Wakuren here is a good guy."

"What?  No, no, of course not," assured Marten.  "Claude don't judge a man by his looks, you know that."

"Okay then, Uncle Marten, I guess we'll see you in the morning then.  We'll be over at Uncle Claude's."

"Sounds good, Thurloe my boy.  We'll talk in the morning."

"That we will," agreed Thurloe, but the older man was already closing the door on him.  The fighter turned to Wakuren and asked, "Well?"

"He's not evil, just really, really nervous," the cleric-paladin of Cal replied, knowing full well why the ever-suspicious Thurloe had called him up to meet his uncle in the first place.  The half-orc took a step back, gazing up at the house before him, concentrating on detecting the auras of evil as he'd been taught back in the Temple of Cal in Port Duralia.  "I am, however, detecting three separate sources of evil inside the house, all on the upper level."

"Okay, then," Thurloe said, heading back to Horse and pulling himself back up into the saddle as Wakuren climbed back into the wagon.  "Let's go, guys - Uncle Claude's farm is just over the hill!"

"What's going on?" asked Alewyth from the saddle of her dire goat, Pyrite.

"We're pretending to go to my other uncle's farm," Thurloe replied, leading the group up the hill and around a bend.  Once they were hidden behind a grove of trees, he motioned for Wakuren to halt the mules.  "But I want you guys to go back there on foot and keep watch on the house.  Zander and I are going to go make sure Uncle Claude's okay, then we'll be right back."

"What are we watching for?" asked Xandro, not having heard any of the conversation at Marten and Charlotte's door.

"Those bandits we were warned about," Thurloe answered.  "I think there are three of them upstairs in my aunt and uncle's house.  You guys see if they stay where they're at or leave on their own - or if any other bandits meet up with them here.  Once Zander and I get back from Claude's we'll sneak in and take them by surprise."  Then with a kick of his heels he sent Horse dashing forward to Claude's dairy farm, with Zander likewise prodding Eddy forward.

Alewyth dismounted from her dire goat and tied his reins to a tree.  Wakuren did likewise with the reins of the mules and Xandro climbed down from White.  "Okay, let's go," sighed Alewyth, already missing the warm fire and good food Thurloe had all but promised them would be waiting for them when they got to his Aunt Charlotte's house.  She wiped the drizzle from her face and stealthily made her way back down the road to the Pulver place, Xandro and Wakuren following in her wake.

Just up the road, Thurloe and Zander pulled their horses to a halt just outside the farmhouse Thurloe recalled with such fond memories from his childhood.  Uncle Claude Pulver, Marten's brother, had been an adventurer for a short while before deciding to settle down and raise cows and he'd filled young Thurloe's head with thrilling tales of his exploits - far too many exploits for them all to have happened in the short time Claude claimed to have been off on the adventuring life, but to little Thurloe at the time they were magical tales so awesome they no doubt led to his own desires to make his own fortune following in his uncle's footsteps.  And now here he was, not only an adventurer but a dreamwalker, saving people who got caught up in their own dreams....

Thurloe knocked on the wooden door to the farmhouse and it was answered much more quickly than Marten had managed back at his own home.  But then that was to be expected, for the main entrance into Claude's farmhouse was in through the kitchen, where the farmer spent a good chunk of his time when not out dealing with the cows or chickens.  "Thurloe!" called out Claude with delight in his voice and an expression of happiness on his face.  "Well I'll be!  Come on in - you too, you look soaked out in all this rain!"

"I can't stay too long, I just wanted to see if you're okay, then Zander and I are going to go back to Aunt Cheryl and Uncle Bob's house."

"Who?" asked Claude, a look of total confusion on his face.  "You got some aunts and uncles I don't know about?"  But of course Thurloe didn't; he was just being his usual untrusting self and thought he'd see if he could trip up his Uncle Claude; after all, a simple _hat of disguise_ could easily make any stranger look like the uncle Thurloe had known all of his life.

"No, of course not - I'm just messing with you," Thurloe said.  "But we gotta get back to Uncle Marten and Aunt Charlotte's - I think there's a group of bandits holed up there with them and we're gonna go root them out."

"Well, then you just hang on one minute, while I go gear up," Claude replied.  "I still got my armor and sword from my old adventuring days - I'm coming with you!"

"That's not necessary--" began Thurloe before getting cut off.  "He's my little brother and I'm coming with you, end of story!" Claude admonished.  "Now hang on, I won't be but a minute."  And with that he passed through the sitting room and into his bedroom, heading over to the closet where Thurloe knew he kept his old adventuring gear; as a child, Thurloe had often marveled over the cool longsword and the leather armor his uncle kept from his "younger days of glory."  Zander, in the meantime, stood by the kitchen stove, where the blazing fire dried off the worst of the wetness that had soaked him to the bone.

Claude returned as promised not too much longer, the leather armor perhaps a tighter fit than it had been in his younger days but still functional.  He wore his scabbard at a belt on his hip and in a practiced action pulled the length of the blade out with a _swish_ that Thurloe knew so well.  "Lead on, my boy," Claude said.

Thurloe turned to face the doorway back into the sitting room and was quite surprised when the point of his uncle's fabled sword went plunging through his back, cutting through his own armor behind him but failing to poke back through the front part; the blade was buried through his midsection, though, and blood welled in the fighter's mouth.

"Urggh," Thurloe said quite involuntarily, causing Zander to look over his way from the warm fire in the kitchen.  Seeing his friend under some type of attack, Zander rushed over to him, pushing past the staggering human fighter and into the bedroom, looking for the enemy.  By then, Claude had pulled the sword from Thurloe's back and plunged it into the elf's side as he pushed past him and into the room.  Zander fell to the floor clutching his side, his own life-blood gushing through his fingers.  His eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out from the shock and the pain.

Thurloe spun around and managed to get his own bastard sword in his hand as he faced his treacherous uncle.  And then a strange thing happened, causing the fighter to wonder if he was seeing things: the door to the bathroom opened up and out stepped another Claude, dressed in the overalls his uncle had been wearing when Thurloe and Zander first arrived at the farmhouse.  "Hey!" complained this second Claude.  "I thought we agreed I was going to be the farmer!"

Thurloe put all further thoughts to the back of his mind as he concentrated on one thing and one thing only: killing these imposters.  His sword struck out with as much strength as the fighter could muster; fortunately, despite having just been stabbed in the back (which tends to lower one's effectiveness a bit), he had his magical torc to boost his strength as needed.  His blade cut through Uncle Claude's armor and the farmer fell back toward his identical twin.  That was all Thurloe needed; trusting Zander wouldn't bleed out in the meantime, he staggered back into the sitting room, pulling the door closed behind him.  Then he staggered a few paces away, fumbling at his belt for the healing potions he kept there.  Flipping the cork out of the end of a _potion of cure moderate wounds_, he upended it and drank down the concoction, feeling a warmth suffuse through his body as the wounds in his midsection closed up.  Then, having gotten his second wind, he stepped forward again and pulled the door back open, having closed it just to slow down what he had assumed was to have been the inevitable pursuit from his two imposter uncles.

But his uncles were bent over Zander's unmoving form.  For one ghastly moment Thurloe feared they were slitting his throat to make sure he was well and truly dead, but they were more interested in looting his pockets.  The one Thurloe had stabbed in retaliation had pulled a healing potion from the elf's belt and was greedily drinking it down, while the "Claude" in overalls had discovered Zander's _jade cooshee_ and was trying to figure out how to activate it.

Before the armored Claude had a chance to finish the stolen potion, Thurloe's bastard sword had stabbed him through the forehead.

He fell backward, hitting the wooden floor with a solid _thunk_.  But by the time he lay flat upon his back, staring up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes, Claude's features had melded into the creature's face, revealing it to be a gray-skinned humanoid with narrow limbs, a bald head, and no visible nose or ears.  "Doppelganger!" Thurloe cried, for he'd heard of such monsters, shapeshifters who took the forms of others for their own benefit.

Now that he knew what he was up against, he turned to face the other "Claude" - and was surprised to see this one had somehow picked up a longsword of his own.  He swung his blade at Thurloe, but the fighter caught the strike on his buckler and cut him down with another torc-enhanced strike of his own weapon.  This second version of his Uncle Claude fell to the floor dead, its features blurring into another copy of the dead doppelganger lying on the other side of Claude's bed.

But Thurloe wasn't worried about them, sure that if they were both reverting to their normal forms it was probably because they were already dead.  Now he just had to make sure the elf wasn't dead as well!  Dropping his blade, he grabbed up another healing potion from Zander's belt and propped the elf up on his lap, holding his head back and pouring the contents of the flask down the sorcerer's mouth.  Zander swallowed involuntarily, coughed, and sat back up.  "You okay?" Thurloe demanded, and when Zander nodded feebly he said, "Good enough - we gotta get back to the other house!"  Now that Thurloe knew there were doppelgangers about he was worried those were no ordinary bandits hanging out at his Uncle Marten's and Aunt Charlotte's.  He pulled Zander to his feet and the two scrambled back out of the farmhouse and pulled themselves up onto their horses, then turned them back the way they'd come.

Back at the Pulver residence, the other three were not having a good time of it: they were wet (and it was still drizzling out, with no signs of letting up any time soon) and stakeout duty was _boring!_  At least Wakuren could still see the three separate sources of evil upstairs, but they had hardly moved the whole time they'd been watching the house.  The half-orc was behind the house, where he could see the kitchen window, while Alewyth was behind a tree where she could see the front door and Xandro was stationed off to the east, keeping a watch on the door that led to Marten's leatherworking shop.

But after a good long while, Wakuren was getting bored, for the sources of evil hadn't hardly moved and he was starting to suspect they were all asleep.  If that were indeed the case, then the sooner they went inside and dealt with the situation, the sooner the heroes could get themselves warm by a fire and maybe get some of that food Thurloe was bragging his aunt cooked so well.  Sneaking quietly over to the kitchen door, Wakuren tried the handle and just as he had suspected - this was farm country, after all - it was unlocked.  He stepped into the kitchen, closing the door quietly behind him.

But the opening and closing of the door hadn't gone unnoticed, for Alewyth had heard it and started creeping along the western side of the building to go check it out, even though that meant abandoning her post at the front door.  She didn't think that would be such a big deal, though, for Xandro could see the front door to the house as well as the door to the leatherworking shop from his vantage point, so if there were any changes to the status at either portal the bard should be able to see it.

Fortunately, Wakuren saw Alewyth creeping by the side of the house through one of the kitchen windows and opened it a crack.  "Pssst!" he called to her quietly.  She veered over to the window to see what the half-orc wanted.  "Go get Xandro," he whispered.  "I think the three of us can take them."  Alewyth gave her friend a silent thumbs up and went back the way she'd come, to signal Xandro to head over her way.

Unfortunately, by the time she got back to her original post she could see the bard had abandoned his; he'd seen her leave and was going to go see what was up, although he'd gone around the eastern side of the house to do so.  For a moment, Alewyth envisioned Xandro and herself running around the house in circles trying to find each other, but fortunately when she went over to the back door by the kitchen she could see Xandro approaching from the other direction.  "There you are," the bard hissed.  "What's going on?"

Alewyth brought him quickly up to speed and then they both silently entered the kitchen through the unlocked door, closing it quietly behind them.  The whole downstairs level was dark and quiet; apparently everyone was still upstairs.

By this time, Wakuren had made it up the stairs, activating his _ring of invisibility_ as he did so.  There was a short hallway ahead; Wakuren went straight to the closest door, walking slowly so the tread of his booted feet wouldn't be heard by whoever was on the other side of the door, for his _detect evil_ was still "pinging" an aura of evil just ahead.  Cautiously turning the doorknob and slowly opening the door, he saw a half-orc wearing leather armor sitting on a bed with a homemade quilt, rubbing his bare feet and expelling a sigh of intense relief.  His leather boots sat on the floor before him where he'd apparently kicked them off.  After determining the half-orc was alone (and that he was indeed the owner of the aura of evil he had detected), Wakuren closed the door with as much care as he had opened it.

The next door along the hallway was on the other side, and opening it as carefully as he had the first one, Wakuren saw a middle-aged woman sitting upon a full-sized bed.  Her head was held at the side at an uncomfortable angle, but this was so the much younger woman bending over her could nestle her face up against the older woman's neck.  Years of classroom training about the various types of undead came flooding into the forefront of Wakuren's mind as he realized he was very likely meeting up with a vampire feeding.  He assumed that was Thurloe's Aunt Charlotte providing the blood to the young blond vampiress; looking around the rest of the room, he saw Uncle Marten standing just beside the door, staring dazedly off into space.  _She's probably dominated the two of them_, Wakuren thought to himself.  But then he silently closed the door and backtracked to the top of the stairs, where he met up with Alewyth and Xandro, who by this time had made their own stealthy way to the upper level of the house.  Whispering as quietly as he could while still making himself heard to his companions, Wakuren briefed them about the half-orc in the one room and the female vampire in the master bedroom with Thurloe's aunt and uncle.

Alewyth cast a _protection from evil_ spell upon herself, while Xandro got a wooden torch from his pack and a dagger from his belt and started whittling himself a stake.  Wakuren told them to stay where they were while he checked out the third source of evil, in a different room around the corner.  Still invisible and as quietly as he could, he opened the door and looked inside, seeing everything perfectly fine with his darkvision despite there being no light source in the room, for the two bedroom windows had their curtains pulled tight across them.  This room was a guest bedroom, slightly smaller than the other one, but it also held a half-orc in studded leather armor, only this one had already pulled the quilt over him and was already well on his way to sleep.  Stepping slowly inside, Wakuren raised his shield and brought it down with full force upon the half-orc's throat.  He made a low gurgling sound as he died in bed, which Wakuren was fairly certain wouldn't have been heard by anyone inside another room with a closed door between them.

Alewyth cast a _bless_ spell upon the three of them after Wakuren reported back that he'd killed one of the bandits.  Then he indicated that he and Xandro would go deal with the other half-orc while Alewyth went in to face the vampire, since her _protection from evil_ spell would prevent the vampire from being able to take control of her mind in the same fashion she'd apparently already taken hold of Thurloe's relatives.  With that settled, Wakuren reactivated his _ring of invisibility_ (for he'd popped back into the visible spectrum when he attacked the sleeping half-orc) and opened the door to what had been Thurloe's room growing up.

Xandro wasted no time on creeping and silence, feeling fast and deadly was the way to go.  With only the moonlight streaming in from one of the windows to see by, he raced into the room, leading with the point of his rapier.  The blade caught the half-orc in the side of his neck as he looked up at the sudden noise of the bard's bootsteps on the wooden floor - and he managed to grab one of his throwing axes from his back and made a half-hearted attempt at retaliating against Xandro, but he was already bleeding too much by this point and he staggered forward, collapsing to the floor in a heap.  Xandro confirmed the kill with another stab at the back of his neck with his blade.  Seeing this, Wakuren changed course and went to go follow Alewyth into the master bedroom to face the vampire.

The dwarven priestess, however, had run into a bit of difficult there, for in opening the door to the master bedroom she'd run straight into Marten, who had apparently been given orders not to allow anyone to disturb his mistress's feeding.  Not wanting to hurt Thurloe's uncle, Alewyth cast a _cause fear_ spell at him.  His eyes widened in shock and horror and the leatherworker turned to flee - at least as far as the door to his own closet, which was all the distance the bedroom allowed.

But that opened the entryway into the bedroom and Wakuren took it, slipping past the priestess of Aerik and reaching out a hand to push the vampire away from Charlotte Pulver.  He had infused his hand with a _cure light wounds_ spell, the most powerful healing spell the cleric-paladin had been able to master thus far, and had further enhanced it with his magic ring.  The positive energy burned the vampire spawn, *Triska*, as if the half-orc's hand had been coated in acid.  "Ow!" screamed Triska in a petulant voice, "You little bugger!  That _hurt!_"

Triska pushed Charlotte away from her and the woman fell onto her side upon the bed, twin rivulets of blood leaking from her neck where it had been pierced by the vampire spawn's fangs.  The blond woman stared regally down her nose at Wakuren and commanded, "Cease your attacks upon me at once!"  But when Wakuren made no indication he was going to obey the undead's wishes she cried out again in her most put-upon whine, "No _fair!_  You half-orcs are supposed to be _easy_ to control!"

Alewyth had seen the effect positive energy had had on the undead monster before her and upped the level of pain by casting a _cure moderate wounds_ spell through her hand, reaching out to touch Triska and dealing twice as much pain and discomfort as Wakuren's lower-level spell had inflicted.  "Ow!  Stupid dwarven _bitch!_" Triska whined, pulling her arm away from the dwarf's touch; Alewyth couldn't help but see the smoke pouring out of the area where she'd made contact with the undead thing's arm.  And then Wakuren added to her pain, converting one of his prepared spells into healing energy and blasting the positive power into the vampire spawn's body with a touch of his hand.  Triska's verbal response - of an even fouler type than she'd managed thus far, the half-orc imagined - was ripped from her lips as she exploded into a cloud of mist.

"You got her!" Xandro exclaimed as he ran into the room to help fight the vampire; he'd gotten there just in time to see her body discorporate into a dark fog.  But the clouds of vapor didn't dissipate as the young bard had expected; rather, the mist drifted across the room, where it was siphoned into a small, wooden box lying upon a dresser pushed up against one wall.  Xandro examined it and saw it was in the form of a little coffin, about six inches long.

There was a sudden clomping of footsteps upon the stairs and the three heroes whirled to face the doorway, expecting possible reinforcements from among the bandits' posse.  But then Thurloe and Zander ran into the room, seeing Marten and Charlotte shake their heads as if coming out of a bout of sleepwalking.  "Is everyone okay?" Thurloe asked.  Everyone was, although Charlotte expressed surprise to see her nephew there in her house, not having been aware of his arrival earlier that night when Marten had been sent to get rid of whoever was at the door.

"Okay, this is going to sound weird, but now that I know you two are all right we need to get back to Claude's - Zander and I took out a pair of doppelgangers and we need to see if he's okay."  That caused all kinds of commotion and questions, but Thurloe said he'd explain everything as soon as they got back and the five adventurers raced back to Claude's dairy farm, where they eventually found him tied up and gagged in one of the cow stalls in the barn.  That wasn't all they found, either: inside the shed where Claude kept both his wagon and his horse they found two other horses, horses that looked somewhat familiar.  Exactly where they'd seen these two horses before became apparent when they discovered the two sets of Telgranian armor hidden in the back of the wagon.

"Sonnuvabitch!" exclaimed Thurloe.  "Those damned doppelgangers were the two paladins we met up with earlier today!"  In hindsight, he realized the one that had been staring at him funny had probably been reading his mind and finding out there was a dairy farmer named Claude Pulver whose farm would make a good place to stay overnight and ransack for any goods that might be on hand to steal.  Which meant there probably weren't even any bandits on the road as they had claimed, which in turn meant the vampire and her two half-orc bodyguards likely had nothing to do with the doppelgangers in the first place.  So what were they doing showing up at his aunt and uncles the same night a pair of doppelgangers decided to rip off a dairy farmer?

Thurloe had never met up with any doppelgangers before (that he knew of, anyway - who could really tell with shapeshifters?) but he decided right then and there that he hated the stupid things with a passion.

"Never you mind," soothed Aunt Charlotte upon their return.  "You saved us all, and that's what matters.  Now, how about we get you all into some dry clothes - and I bet you could all do with a bowl or two of some hot stew, couldn't you?"

That, at least, was an easy question to answer.

 - - -

This adventure I had intended to consist of two nearby locations with two unconnected sets of adversaries, taking advantage of the backstory Dan had given me about his aunt and two uncles.  But then the group (mostly Dan) decided it made sense to split the party, and they ended up going through the whole adventure in "hard mode," with two PCs taking on one threat by themselves and the other three taking on a different threat all by themselves, when I had intended for all five PCs to be fighting them one at a time in sequence.  But it worked out this way, although there were a couple of moments of nail-biting worry (especially when Joe hadn't been paying attention to who had stabbed Thurloe in Claude's bedroom and basically offered himself up - all 9 hp of himself - to the first doppelganger who took him out with an attack of opportunity).  But that's what makes it so much fun as a DM: seeing how the players react to the situations you present them with.

And the PCs are now at 4th level as a result of this adventure.  Everyone else took one more level in the classes they've each been advancing in thus far, but Thurloe (who wants to become a spellsword eventually) decided to take his first level of wizard; apparently he's been studying that beginner's spellbook he was given in the first adventure during his off-time.

 - - -

T-shirt worn: This was the same session as "Middlewich Manor" so I was still wearing my Red Cross shirt, but the "blood" aspect of it went well with the vampire spawn's blood drain attack, so it was just as appropriate if not more so (because Charlotte, Marten, and Claude Pulver are all Thurloe's blood relatives on top of everything else).


----------



## Richards (Sep 20, 2021)

*ADVENTURE 16: FOREST DREAMS*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 4​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 4​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 2/paladin 2​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 4​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 4​
Game Session Date: 18 September 2021

 - - -

"So where is this next dreamer supposed to be?" asked Zander Quilson, astride his horse Eddy.  He was riding directly behind the mule-driven wagon, since the forest path they were traversing wasn't wide enough to accommodate riding beside it.

"Somewhere in a clearing here in the Darkwood Forest," replied Xandro, who had paid attention last night during their dream session when Mogo explained where they'd be heading next.  "An area where two of these roads cross each other, leaving a wide area in the middle.  We're apparently on the right road, so we shouldn't be able to miss it."

Up ahead of the wagon, with Wakuren the only one riding in it now that Alewyth had her dire goat Pyrite, Thurloe Pulver sat astride his own hastily-named horse, Horse.  He scanned the sides of the trees as they ambled along, his ever-cautious nature making him the perfect point guard to check for an ambush.  But it wasn't an ambush the group ran into - not at first, in any case - it was a dire wolf, crouched as bold as you please in the middle of the road ahead.  His muzzle was covered in blood as he looked up from the body of the dead deer he'd been eating, locking eyes with Thurloe and growling a warning not to approach any further and try to take the wolf's meal from him.  Thurloe brought Horse to an immediate halt and held his hand up to signal Wakuren to do the same; the half-orc pulled on the mules' reins and brought them to a stop, veering them to the left in case any of the others behind him might need to pass.  From his vantage point he couldn't see why Thurloe had stopped them, but he assumed it wasn't on a whim.

And Thurloe would have simply had the group turn around and find a side road past the dire wolf and his deer feast had it not been for the humanoid figure lying sprawled on the ground beside the deer.  It was the size of a gnome, although beyond that it was hard to make out any features, for the figure was either covered in branches and leaves or else had them growing out of his body.  But from the distance between them, Thurloe couldn't tell if the little possible-gnome were even still alive or not.  And, of course, Thurloe being Thurloe after all, part of his mind measured the possibility that the gnome guy was in league with the dire wolf and this was some sort of trap.

In one smooth motion, Thurloe dismounted from Horse and brought his bastard sword out from its scabbard over his back.  He stepped slowly towards the humanoid figure, sword out and readied but not in an offensive stance; at this point he just wanted to get close enough to see if the gnome guy was still breathing or not.  "Easy, big guy, we're not here to hurt you," he said to the dire wolf, hoping the tone of his voice if not his actual words would convey his non-threatening posture.

The dire wolf was having none of it.  Standing over his meal, if not technically his kill (for he had come across the three-foot-tall humanoid and the deer shortly after the deer had been brought down by a well-thrown javelin), his growl deepened and his body tensed as if ready to pounce.  And it was at this time that Wakuren walked up to see what was going on, tensing at the sight of the downed humanoid and ready to go provide aid to him if he could.  Instinctively, he used his paladin training to sense the taint of evil among any of the present group and saw none; the dire wolf was merely a hungry predator attending to his needs and the humanoid was either still alive and not evil or already dead, in which case there would be no evil emanations from him even if he had habitually slain babies and bathed in their blood every day - a corpse was just a corpse.

Since Wakuren had pulled the mules over to the side, beneath the overhanging branches of the trees flanking the narrow road, Alewyth had enough room to ride Pyrite up to see for herself why they'd stopped.  Seeing the dire wolf, she cast a _bless_ spell on the group, just in case it was needed.  And it most certainly was, for there were now far too many enemies for the dire wolf's liking, too many who might try to take his meal for themselves.  He sprang forward, sinking his teeth into the nearest of these enemies.  Wakuren had tried to block the lupine head with his shield but merely shunted the beast's muzzle to grip his upper arm; fortunately for the half-orc, his armor held against the wolf's jagged teeth and he managed to keep his balance.

Thurloe was beside Wakuren in a heartbeat, his bastard sword swinging down upon the wolf's flank, causing it to howl in pain and release Wakuren's arm from its grasp.  Behind the wagon, Xandro and Zander slipped off of their horses and ran up to see what was going on - some sort of combat, it sounded like.  The bard pulled his lute from his back and started the chords of his song of inspirational courage, while the sorcerer cast a _mage armor_ spell upon himself.

And then an unseen attacker entered the fray from an unseen vantage point, attacking an unusual target: from somewhere overhead up in the trees came a flaming javelin to pierce none of the current combatants but rather the downed figure that lay unmoving by the slain deer.  The flames on the weapon's tip started the leaves and branches covering the figure ablaze.

And then more of these flaming javelins started raining down from the treetops, two of them hitting Thurloe and Wakuren, causing the fighter's suspicions about an ambush to harden in his mind, although he wasn't sure why the little gnome guy would have been the first target of the attack, since he was probably already dead and thus couldn't have been in on it.  Oh well, time enough to figure out the whys and wherefores after combat had been completed - right now, it was more important to stay alive!

Wakuren concentrated his attacks on the massive dire wolf before him, trusting in his plate mail armor to keep him relatively safe from the fire-tipped javelins from above.  He brought the bottom edge of his shield crashing down upon the wolf's head, cutting it open with the point.  Then he stepped back out of immediate range of his snapping jaws and dared a quick glance up at the trees, unable to see any enemies at all up there but distinctly seeing the evil auras of five different individuals.

Alewyth cast a _protection from evil_ spell on herself as she rode Pyrite closer to the dire wolf, her warhammer _Sjondra_ gripped in one hand.  The dire wolf changed targets suddenly and nipped at Thurloe, biting him on the leg but failing to pull the fighter to the ground, where he'd likely have an easier time of killing him.  Thurloe retaliated with another swing of his bastard sword, cutting a deep gash in the wolf's shoulder.  And now he could hear Xandro's tune behind him, inspiring him to greater acts of courage.

Zander cast a _ray of enfeeblement_ spell at the wounded wolf, draining off a bit of the massive brute's impressive strength.  The wolf, at this point, was starting to look very much the worse for wear, but he wasn't the only foe the group had to worry about for another wave of five flaming javelins came streaking down from the treetops; this time they had been better coordinated, with each of the five heroes being targeted by his or her individual missile.

Squinting up into the trees, Wakuren spotted a wooden face among the branches, with twigs and branches growing out of it from all sides.  He tried to recall if there were any fey creatures fitting that description and why they might be attacking him and his companions; in the meantime, on a more practical front, he cast an _entropic shield_ spell upon himself, hoping to deflect a couple of those flaming javelins being hurled his way.

Alewyth was also peering up into the treetops, trying to spot who it was hurling flaming javelins down at them.  She didn't have much in the way of ranged weaponry - just her sling - and preferred using her spellcraft in any case, but when she saw a wooden face peering down at her she cast a _doom_ spell on him, hoping to mess up his aim at least.  Unlike Wakuren, she had no idea how many of these hidden foes were up there, but there had to be at least five, given five javelins had been hurled almost simultaneously.

The dire wolf made a half-hearted snap at Thurloe's leg again and the fighter brought his blade down upon the beast's neck, killing it.  Then he looked up into the tree branches above him, trying to pinpoint who these hidden enemies might be.  In the meantime, Xandro cast a _cure light wounds_ spell upon Zander Quilson, as the elf was their physically weakest member and was easily taken out in combat, but he was also their most powerful source of offensive combat spells and it was always a good idea to keep him in the fight for as long as possible.

There was a sudden startled cry from behind the wagon and Zander thought it sounded like his horse Eddy.  Sure enough, there was another wolf back there attacking his mount!  The sorcerer wasn't sure if this was just a normal wolf or perhaps the offspring of the dire wolf but it didn't really matter; that was his horse the wolf was trying to kill!  Zander ran toward his horse and raised his hands, channeling a _scorching ray_ through his fingertips and sending the blazing flash of fire cascading into the startled predator.  Eddy took the opportunity to flee in terror down a side path, while beside him Xandro's horse White did the same thing.  The worg, in the meantime, snarled in fury at the sudden magical onslaught; he'd been trying to pace his master as he went scurrying about in the tree branches and hadn't expected to encounter spellcasters when he came across a pair of what he had thought were unprotected horses!

Another wave of flaming javelins came flying down from all directions above them and this time Wakuren, having spotted one of their tree-borne tormentors, had been able to see how that process worked: the wooden faces all had pipes in their mouths and dipped the tips of their javelins - no doubt coated in some type of flammable oil or something - into them to set them ablaze before hurtling them down at the adventurers.  Activating his _ring of invisibility_, Wakuren vanished from sight and took a few steps to the side so their assailants wouldn't know his exact location.

Sudden inspiration hit Alewyth and she cast a _spiritual weapon_ spell, causing a warhammer of solid force to materialize in the air above her.  She had spotted one of these tree-pests and could send her _spiritual warhammer_ to go deal with it while she sought out future targets for it to smash.  The force-hammer went streaking into the trees, hitting its target square on and causing it to plummet lifelessly from the branch upon which it had been perched to the ground below.  One down: a start, at least!

Thurloe sheathed his blade and brought out his bow, notching an arrow into place and looking up into the trees for a suitable target.  Once he spotted movement he shot at the tree-bound foe but failed to bring him down.

Not wanting a repeat of the fire magic that had seared his fur, the worg went sprinting at Zander Quilson, biting down hard up the elf sorcerer's leg and trying to bring him crashing to the ground so he could rip out his throat.  But even slightly off balance, Zander had no problem targeting another _scorching ray _ spell directly at the worg at that distance and the creature died immediately, its corpse ablaze.

Four flaming javelins came flying out of the trees above, this time focused solely on Thurloe and Xandro.  Wakuren, seeing the success Alewyth was having with her _spiritual weapon_, cast one of his own, his taking the form of a heavy mace, the weapon the god Cal wielded.  It went flying straight for the wooden-faced foe Wakuren had spotted among the trees, killing him instantly and dropping his body to the ground in a heap.  In his aura-sensing vision, the half-orc saw one of the remaining sources of evil scampering deeper into the clump of trees from which they had attacked their foes on the ground - he was apparently heading back the way they had come, paralleling the road the adventurers had taken.

Alewyth's force-hammer swung at another of these arboreal foes, smacking it good but failing to drop it.  She took the time to lean down and channel a _cure light wounds_ spell on Zander, healing up the jagged gash on his calf where the worg had bitten him.  But with the priestess's _spiritual warhammer_ all but pointing at a potential target, Thurloe had no trouble slaying it with his next arrow shot.  The dead enemy crashed through the branches to fall to the ground to the accompaniment of Xandro's courage-inspiring tune.

Zander saw a brief flash of light up in the trees and realized it was another javelin being lit on fire right before being thrown; now that he could make out the creature's shape up there, he cast a _magic missile_ spell flashing up there, slaying the assailant before he could let fly with his javelin.  Both body and javelin fell to the ground below.

There was now only one of these arboreal enemies left and he was in fast retreat.  Knowing he had to get word back to the tribe, he sent his owl familiar on ahead so that if he didn't make it back at least one of the other adepts could learn of this team's slaughter, for the loyal bird would easily be able to lead them back here and if the old stories were true, human marauders just left their slain enemies to rot where they fell.

But as this last survivor leaped and skipped from branch to branch, he didn't realize he was being tracked from the ground.  Wakuren was tracking the retreating figure in the branches through his aura of evil, which glowed in the cleric-paladin's vision like a beacon.  And that was enough to allow the half-orc to send his _spiritual heavy mace_ slamming into the fleeing figure.  In the meantime, the armored half-orc bent down over the burning form of the body by the slain deer the dire wolf had been eating.  Wakuren was intrigued by the thought this might be a humanoid plant of some type, like those needlefolk they'd met up in that old abandoned mine.  But no, the branches and leaves that had covered the form, now that he had a better look at them (and many of them had been burned away), had merely been sewn to the leather armor of the figure, whose "wooden face" was nothing more than a mask.  Flipping the body over with his shield and stamping out the flames still burning the body, he bent over and pulled off the mask, revealing the face of a green-skinned goblin.  That was a surprise, for as far as Wakuren knew there weren't any more goblins living out among themselves, they'd all been civilized and could be found as servants in the larger cities.  How strange to see a band of goblins running around in the trees, of all places!

Alewyth, in the meantime, had spurred Pyrite to enter the forest proper, skirting around the trees so she could keep her _spiritual warhammer_ actively attacking the last of the assailants; she caught a glimpse of the fleeing figure and her force-hammer gave one final blow before it winked out, the duration of its magic having expired.  But that last blow was all that had been necessary, for the tree goblin adept went tumbling off the limb he'd been traversing, falling in a lifeless heap upon the ground.  And just that quickly, the attack was over.

The group searched the bodies and found these odd tree goblins had nothing worth taking, merely a handful of javelins each, a lit corncob pipe, and that weird leather armor with leaves and branches interwoven in as camouflage.  The wooden masks they wore were crudely made, but the overall effect certainly did what it was supposed to: help them blend into the background while leaping from branch to branch and hiding the fact that these "tree-people" were in fact goblins.  The adventurers gathered up their mounts, Alewyth and Wakuren cast healing spells on those who needed them, and then the group moved on, back in the direction they had started, seeking out the crossroads opening in the Darkwood Forest where they were to find the next trapped dreamer.

An hour later they were certain they'd come to the crossroads, for it fit the description Mogo had given them precisely.  However, there were no buildings in the area at all to be seen.  "Tree house?" guessed Alewyth, shielding her eyes from the sun and scanning the trees for any signs of habitation.

"Watch it's one of those tree goblins, sitting up in a nest at the top of the trees or something," joked Zander.

"Better not be," replied Thurloe, dismounting from Horse and leading him in a clockwise direction around the edge of the clearing; maybe the house was camouflaged or something.  The others dismounted and did likewise, with Wakuren pulling the mule-wagon over to one side.  Thurloe saw a bunch of prints in the dirt of the intersection, mostly those of a horse without horseshoes and the bare feet of what was likely a young woman, given their size.  But no dwellings of any kind that he could see.

In was Xandro who first made contact, although in reality he was the contact recipient, not the instigator.  "Hello?" said a shy voice from the other side of a clump of broad-leafed plants.  "Have you come to help my friend *Belisandre*?"

Xandro peered between the leaves and saw the face of a beautiful young woman staring back at him, although it was one seemingly made of living wood.  "Well, hello," he said.  "Yes, we're here to help your friend - if she's been trapped in a dream, that is.  Can you take us to her?"  The young woman nodded shyly and stepped forward.

"What is your name?" asked Xandro, looking at the lovely vision stepping from between the undergrowth.  It was a woman of his own size and age, although her smooth, brown skin held the lines one found in the rings of trees; her head had a handful of branches erupting out of it in all directions like a crown and green growths of ivy cascaded down from her head like hair.  "My name is *Nyla*, she said, adding (perhaps unnecessarily), "I'm a dryad."

"My name is Xandro," replied the bard, taking her hand and bringing her out into the open to meet his friends.

After introductions had been made, Nyla told the group what she knew.  "Belisandre is a dryad, like myself.  She has been asleep inside her tree for three weeks now and I have been unable to awaken her."  After Alewyth explained how they had been able to help others who had been stuck inside their dreams, she asked if it was possible for Nyla to take them inside Belisandre's tree.  "No, I am afraid that is not possible," Nyla said with regret.  "As a dryad I can enter her tree as well as any other, but I cannot take others in with me to anywhere but my own tree."

That didn't seem like too much of a problem, though; Alewyth handed over a leather headband holding a dreamstone and asked Nyla to place it around Belisandre's brow, with the dreamstone aligned in the middle of her forehead.  "Once that's done, the five of us will sit around her tree and enter the dreamscape, rousing her from her dream.  We'll need you to stand watch over our bodies while we do that, though, because here on the Mortal Plane we'll be asleep."  Nyla instantly agreed, took the proffered headband, and walked into an oak tree at the edge of the clearing.

Zander activated his _figurine of wondrous power_ and instructed the cooshee to wake him if any danger approached while they were sleeping around the oak tree.  Alewyth brought her dire goat over as well, and while she had no way of communicating any instructions to him that he would be able to understand, she was comforted knowing he would be nearby while she slept.

"It is done," Nyla said as she stepped back out from the tree.  "Now what?"

"Now," replied Xandro, wearing a headband identical to the one they'd given the dryad, "the five us go inside your friend's dream and bring her back."  He flashed the young dryad a smile and received one in return.  "I will watch over you," Nyla promised.

One by one, the five dreamwalkers slowed their heartbeats and breathing and entered a dream state.  Their minds went immediately to the dreamlands, where they were each met up by their personal moogle guide who led them to the Hall of Dreams.  And there, as usual, hovered Mogo, his hand on one particular door in an endless hallway with doors all side by side for as far as the eye could see.  "Good luck in there, kupo!" Mogo called as the five dreamwalkers entered the open doorway.

None of the heroes had ever been inside a dryad's home in the middle of a tree before, but they judged that was likely where they were now, for the room they were in had no straight lines or right angles, just a flowing, organic shape.  But what was surprising - and not at all what they'd expected to see inside a dryad's living space - was all of the fungus sprouting all over the place.  White puffballs grew out of the walls, tangles of bluish-green tendrils dangled from the ceiling like the tentacles of a giant jellyfish, and blobs of green and brown and black mold and spores grew along the floor like overripe melons.  Large toadstools were growing all around the edges of the room, some of them extending purplish growths that swayed as if in an unseen breeze.  In the middle of the floor lay a pile of hardened growths in the vague shape of a humanoid figure.

Realizing this was all just a dream, Thurloe stepped forward and gave the lumpy growths in the middle of the room a hard kick with his booted foot, receiving a muffled grunt of pain from within the human-shaped mass.  "What are you doing?" demanded Alewyth.  "That's probably Belisandre in there!"

Zander closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to force the hardened growths to dissolve away with the sheer force of his will.  Mogo had told them that with sufficient training, a dreamwalker could eventually shape any dream to suit his own desires - and right now the elf desired the hardened fungus to get off of Belisandre, if that was indeed her underneath all of that.  He opened his eyes again and looked down at the vaguely humanoid shape, trying to see if his attempts to alter the dream had had any effect.  Maybe?  It was kind of hard to tell.

"I'm going to try treating this as a disease," Wakuren decided, casting a _cure light wounds_ spell on the pile of fungus before him.  Touching the fungus burned his fingers, but the healing energy of the spell seemed as effective against the intrusive fungus as if it had been undead.  Great clumps of it blackened and fell away, exposing a good portion of the sleek, wooden body underneath.

Xandro, in the meantime, had taken his rapier out of its scabbard and was going to town against the puffball fungus.  It crumbled and flaked away at the touch of his blade, causing great clouds of choking spores that didn't seem to affect the dream other than making it harder for them to breathe.  He quickly stopped doing that.

Then a pair of the toadstools shambled forward, slapping out with their violet tentacles at Xandro and Zander.  Alewyth came immediately to Zander's aid, slamming the violet fungus that had been attacking the elf.  Thurloe, who had been attacking some of the dangling tendrils (to little effect), saw the commotion and chopped his blade into the "head" of the fungus attacking Xandro.  Zander cast a _scorching ray_ at the violet fungus attacking him and it was immediately set ablaze, its violet tendrils waving around feebly as whatever strange life it possessed burned away.

But by now Wakuren had figured that completely freeing the imprisoned dryad was the key to waking her from her ongoing nightmare of decay and suffocation, and he cast another healing spell on the fungus still covering her body, this time using a more powerful _cure moderate wounds_ version.  That had the remainder of the rot sloughing off her and crumbling away to nothingness.  He held out a hand and helped her to her feet and the room around them started dissolving away as the dryad began to wake up for the first time in three weeks....

One by one, the five dreamwalkers willed themselves back awake (Xandro breathing a sigh of relief at finding out this time there were no difficulties) and back outside the dryad's oak tree.  "You did it?" asked Nyla.  "You were successful?"

"She should be awake now," Xandro answered, but before the dryad could reply Thurloe interrupted her.  "Uh-oh," he said.

"What?" demanded Alewyth, getting to her feet and lifting her warhammer into a defensive stance.  She didn't see anything to startle the fighter.

"Thought I saw some movement in the trees across the way,' Thurloe replied, pulling his bow from his back.  "Might be nothing but the wind..."

"...or it could be more of those tree goblins," finished Zander.  A flaming javelin came streaking across the way to hit him in the arm as if to settle the matter; the elf slapped the weapon away before the flames could catch his robe on fire.

"Back here, by me!" Thurloe commanded, for he was on the far side of Belisandre's oak tree from where the javelin had been thrown.  Zander hurried to comply while his cooshee barked his displeasure up at the trees.  He raced across the intervening road, barking up at the unseen menaces as if he'd just chased them up there himself, his tail wagging as if complimenting himself upon a job well done.  Nyla, in the meantime, raced around the oak tree and hunkered down beside Zander.

But then Belisandre sauntered out of the tree, directly in the line of fire of the tree goblins.  "What's going on?" asked the young dryad.  "I just had the strangest--"

Her words were cut off as a flaming javelin stabbed her in the stomach and took root, the flames trying to catch hold of her smooth-barked body.  With a shriek of surprise and pain, Belisandre tugged the burning weapon from her body as Wakuren pulled her to safety, then activated his magic ring to fade from view.  He moved over by Zander to see if he needed any healing from the attack and decided it was probably worthwhile to heal him up while he had the chance.

Xandro had, by this time, pulled out his crossbow and tried to hit one of the well-camouflaged enemies.  The bolt skewered its way through numerous leaves but there was no cry of pain by the time it had finished its flight path.  Alewyth spotted a tree goblin and instinctively cast an innate _ray of frost_ at it with one hand while she unpacked her sling from a pouch at her belt with the other.  The ray struck but didn't do enough damage to slay the tree goblin.

Thurloe's first arrow managed to hit one head on, though, causing it to plummet to the ground with a shaft piercing its wooden mask and the middle of its head.  But more incoming javelins came aimed at Thurloe and Xandro; once again the humans seemed to be the goblins' primary targets.  Zander cast a _magic missile_ spell at a tree goblin as soon as he could make it out among the surrounding trees, causing the second death in this wave of arboreal attackers.

On the adventurers' recommendation, Belisandre ran back inside her oak tree, while Nyla followed suit.  Off in the distance, Wakuren saw one of the tree goblins drop to the ground and run across the dirt road to the clump of trees off to the west.  As he didn't have much in the way of ranged attacks available, the half-orc sprinted in the direction of the tree goblin, hoping to catch him while he was still on the ground.  The cooshee had also spotted him, it seemed, and was racing over to catch him as well.  Wakuren put on a burst of speed and slammed at the fleeing tree goblin with the edge of his shield, missing him but popping back into visibility as he made the attempt.  Xandro, seeing the commotion there on the ground, shot at the fleeing goblin as he scampered his way up the nearest tree, but the bolt embedded itself in the tree's trunk, having missed the fleeing creature entirely.

Alewyth sent her sling spinning over her head to build up speed and then sent the stone flinging across the road up into the trees, towards the tree goblin she'd spotted moving among the branches.  It didn't sound like she hit him, though - a pity.  But Thurloe spotted another one among the branches and took him down with another well-placed arrow.  Beside him, Zander scanned the trees, looking for another tree goblin to shoot a spell at, but he couldn't see any.  Thurloe and Alewyth had each taken down another tree goblin before the elf found one he could target with a _magic missile_ spell, slaying it instantly.  Zander nodded appreciatively to himself, glad to be pulling his own weight in this fight.

The cooshee snapped at the tree goblin rapidly climbing up to the safety of the higher branches over across two dirt roads from Belisandre's oak tree.  But from his lofty perch, the tree goblin adept looked down upon the scowling half-orc that had chased him and sent a _scorching ray_ blazing down into its ugly face.  That caught Wakuren completely by surprise - he hadn't been aware these little pests could cast spells!  Angered beyond measure, Wakuren vowed he was going to climb up that tree and drag the goblin spellcaster down where he could give him the proper beating he deserved.  Tree climbing wasn't something Wakuren did often, and certainly not while in plate mail armor and with a heavy steel shield strapped to one forearm, but the cleric-paladin somehow managed it and pulled himself up onto a thick branch.

Of course, by that time, the nimble tree goblin adept had leaped over to a nearby adjoining branch from higher up in the same tree.  But Wakuren wasn't going to allow that to stop him; judging the distance between them, he leaped up at the goblin pest, hoping to topple him out of his perch even if it meant taking a tumble himself as well.  Unfortunately, tree combat was not the half-orc's forte and he went plummeting face-first back to the ground, without having managed to get a grip on the tree goblin adept who was now calling insults down at him in his Goblin language.

Xandro, having given up on trying to pick off tree goblins he could barely see with his light crossbow, had switched over to his lute and was beginning the song of inspirational courage - if he couldn't take them out himself he'd do what he could to provide magical assistance to those who were having better luck at it than he was.  But Alewyth's next sling bullet went wide and she saw why: the tree goblin was scampering away from her, apparently having come to the decision to live to fight another day rather than throw its life away in a battle it couldn't win.  After all, by this time there were half a dozen tree goblin bodies scattered beneath the clump of trees by which they approached their targets, and not one of their ground-borne foes had been taken down.

Thurloe shot at another departing tree goblin but missed.  Zander saw it just in the nick of time and managed to bring it down with another _magic missile_ spell, but he was about out of those and would soon be limited to his absolutely least powerful combat spells.  He sighed; it looked like the battle was just about over.

But over at the clump of trees to the west, battle was still raging.  The cooshee was still barking at the tree goblin adept, who seemed to enjoy taunting the elven dog below him.  However, at Zander's urging, the cooshee used Wakuren as a springboard and leaped up high enough to get its teeth on the surprised goblin spellcaster, magically ripping a spell from the adept and then running back to his master to infuse it into the sorcerer, tail wagging furiously at what a good boy he was.  Zander patted the dog's head and felt the spell energy seep into his being: power enough to fuel another _magic missile_ spell!  Now, if he could only find an appropriate target....

There was no movement within the original clump of trees, the few remaining goblins from the assault force having retreated.  That left only the spellcaster, but he too had retreated deeper into the clump of trees and Zander couldn't spot him.  But Alewyth and Thurloe were determined to bring him down, racing over that way and searching above them for telltale movement.  Xandro continued his song, hoping they'd be able to find their foe, while Wakuren cast a badly-needed healing spell upon himself - he'd nearly broken a tusk from his fall!  "There!" Alewyth called, sending a sling stone flying to cut a swath through leaf after leaf, to no avail.  But Thurloe spotted the fleeing spellcaster, sighted his arrow on him carefully, and let fly.  With a cry of pain, the tree goblin adept fell lifelessly to the ground below.

Alewyth and Thurloe exchanged congratulations as the heroes all regrouped.  Seeing it was now safe to do so, the dryads exited their tree homes and Belisandre was able to express her thanks for having rescued her, as Nyla had filled her in on what all had happened over the past three weeks.  Belisandre gave the group three doses of a healing paste, potions of _barkskin_, _lesser restoration_, and _remove paralysis_, as well as a vial of _stone salve_ and a magical silver dagger with the holy symbol of Feron engraved on the pommel, the latter a gift from a passing druid.

And then the group was back in the saddle, heading off to the location of their next dream victim.  "It's a shame we couldn't stay with them for a bit longer," sighed Xandro as they made their way back onto the road they'd been following.  "I wouldn't have minded getting to know Nyla a bit better.  She seemed nice."  Plus, as a bard, Xandro Silverstrings was always looking for ideas and new experiences that could be turned into new songs or ballads - it never hurt to expand one's repertoire.

"Bad idea," called back Thurloe from astride Horse at the front of the expedition.  He waited for the bard to object or ask why, and when he did neither Thurloe provided the answer anyway.  "You'd get splinters."

 - - -

Having finished up "Forest Dreams" in a little over two and a half hours - about half the time we allow ourselves for a Saturday afternoon session - we decided to plunge ahead and go through the next adventure immediately afterwards, as that one was about as long as this one and I figured we could get through it in time.

 - - -

T-shirt worn: My "Hanes Moore Family Reunion" T-shirt with the silhouette of a tree, representing the oak tree of the dryad Belisandre.


----------



## Richards (Oct 8, 2021)

*ADVENTURE 17: DOWN AMONG THE DEAD MEN*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 4​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 4​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 2/paladin 2​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 4​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 4​
Game Session Date: 18 September 2021

 - - -

"Really?  Breaking into a crypt so we can steal a dreamstone?" demanded Alewyth.  "I hardly think that would be the best use of our resources - nor is it respectful to the dead entombed in their hallowed resting place."

"You didn't mind gathering up those other dreamstones before, kupo," pointed out Mogo.  "And they've been very helpful in freeing all of those people you've already rescued from their dreams, kupo!"

"That was different," argued Alewyth.  "Those were just lying about with those flumphs.  Here we're talking about _breaking and entering_--"

"You don't necessarily have to break anything, kupo..."

"--into a family's crypt, to steal something that doesn't belong to us--"

"We could leave behind an equivalent amount of gold equal to the value of the dreamstone," suggested Xandro.

"--and it's something we don't really need," Alewyth finished.  "We already have dreamstones - twelve of them."

"Eleven," corrected Thurloe.  "We left that one back with the dwarf we were unable to rescue, remember?  With the dream about the three-headed dragon that continually kicked our--"

"Yes, I remember," interrupted the dwarven priestess.

"Well, we could very well come across a few more people we're not strong enough to rescue just yet," Thurloe continued.  "If we leave a dreamstone behind every time that happens, eventually we're going to need more dreamstones.  And it's not like the things grow on trees.  We should probably take whatever opportunities there are to harvest more."

"The Queen of Dreams suggested it, kupo.  Somebody was dreaming about a large dreamstone on the end of a sword-pommel and she traced it to somewhere there in the forest you're already in, not too far from your present location, kupo."

"It wouldn't hurt to at least check it out," Zander suggested.

Alewyth looked over to Wakuren, a cleric like herself.  "What do you think, Wakuren?  Are you up for some grave robbing?"

The half-orc frowned and wondered how best to voice his thoughts.  "While I can certainly understand your hesitancy to break into a family crypt," he began, "at the same time I agree that if the dreamstone is being used as simple ornamentation on a sword we can put it to much a better use.  We will, of course, do whatever we can to make amends to the family, perhaps by leaving behind coins of equal or greater value, like Xandro suggested."

"I didn't suggest _greater_ value," muttered Xandro.

Alewyth's eyes narrowed into slits as she reassessed her feelings towards the half-orc cleric-paladin, having fully expected he'd take her side of the argument.  She hoped he wasn't starting to become as gold-greedy as some of the rest of the guys in their little band seemed to be, and then gave a grunt at the thought that it was the _dwarf_ in the party arguing against going after the valuable gemstones...so much for racial stereotypes.  "Fine," she finally assented.

"Okay then, if that's settled, I think you should take the rest of the night off so you can be well-rested in the morning, kupo!" suggested Mogo, dismissing them from their dreamwalker training for the rest of the time they were asleep.  They were each sent to their own private dreamscapes, where their minds did what all minds did during sleep time, the only difference being these five would wake up the next morning remembering all of their dreams of the night before, unlike the vast majority of the members of the Waking World.  That, after all, was what made them so valuable as potential dreamwalkers.

And so the next morning the group packed their gear back up and resumed their trek through the Darkwood Forest.  Mogo had explained how to get to the tomb, which was at the northern edge of the forest, closer to the main road ranging from east to west.  The crypt, when they got to it, wasn't particularly impressive: a single story tall, 15 feet on a side, made of stone but with no visible seams as if the entire building had been carved from one giant slab of stone.  ("Probably built using _wall of stone_ spells," offered up Thurloe.)  One side held a set of metal doors; all four sides were covered in ivy growths.  It proved necessary to hack away at the ivy obscuring the door, revealing the Tannenheim family emblem engraved into the metal and a keyhole below one of the metal handles.

"Great - anybody got a key?" asked Thurloe.  "Lockpick?  _Knock_ spell?"  Nobody had anything of the sort, including him (as he'd studied Mistress Jandoval's beginner spellbook enough he had mastered some of the easier spells she'd provided him, but _knock_ was not among their number).  He looked over to Alewyth.  "...Warhammer?" he added, wincing since he knew what her reaction was likely to be.

Wakuren also knew the dwarven priestess of Aerik was not going to be happy about breaking into the crypt in this manner.  "I'll do it, if you'll let me borrow your hammer," he offered, holding out his hand.

"Nay, step aside, I'll do it meself," Alewyth frowned.  "In fer a penny, in fer a pound."  The others couldn't help but notice how her dwarven accent became more pronounced when she was upset.  But in her mind, if she was willing to be talked into breaking into a tomb she might as well go in whole hog - it wasn't like she was sinning any less by going along with somebody else breaking into the tomb...plus, it was her warhammer.

Taking a deep breath, Alewyth Putterpye hefted _Sjondra_ and brought it slamming into the metal doors of the crypt.  A loud reverberation echoed across the forest but the door held.  It held up against her second blow, and against her third...but by her fourth blow the locking mechanism inside the doors gave way and she was able to pull the doors outwards, revealing but a single stone sarcophagus at the back of the room's interior.  By its construction she could see the lid hinged upwards to the right, which was no doubt where they'd find the Tannenheim buried with a sword that had a dreamstone attached to its pommel.  "Aerik fergive me," she muttered as the others went inside.

Wakuren and Thurloe were standing on the other side of the coffin from the hinges and trying to lift the lid, but it wasn't budging in the least.  They strained until the cords in their necks stood out and Thurloe's face turned a bright shade of red, but they couldn't even lift it an inch.  Xandro, however, was examining the doors.  Along the bottom of each door was a metal arc, more or less showing the path of the doors' edges as they were opened, forming a sort of curved "V" shape that met in the middle and connected in the side of the stone below the level of the floor.  The bard experimented and confirmed that the metal arcs were preventing the doors from being opened more than 90 degrees...and, he was fairly sure, was probably latching the coffin lid shut.  "Wait a minute, guys," he said, pulling each of the doors closed, the metal arcs disappearing below the floor.  With the doors closed it was pitch black inside the crypt until Zander pulled out his _everburning torch_.  "Now try it," Xandro suggested.  The lid, much to Thurloe and Wakuren's embarrassment, opened right up.  Xandro just grinned at them.

The coffin interior, however, held neither body nor sword but rather a set of stairs leading down into darkness.  "Prep spells before we go down there," Thurloe suggested.  He'd purposefully left his buckler in one of Horse's saddlebags and cast a _shield_ spell upon himself to compensate.  And Mistress Jandoval's notes in the margins had been correct: it was tricky casting spells while wearing his armor!  Alewyth cast a trio of spells: _protection from evil_ and _detect undead_ spells upon herself and a _bless_ spell upon the entire group.  Wakuren cast a _hide from undead_ spell on himself, Xandro, and Zander, warning them that should any of the three of them attack an undead creature it would cause the spell to dissipate upon all three of them.  He then followed up with a _shield of faith_ spell upon himself.  Zander Quilson was content with just his standard _mage armor_ spell.

"Is everyone ready?" asked Wakuren.  He got nods to the affirmative and then climbed inside the empty coffin, taking the steps down to the true crypt hidden some dozen feet or so below the surface of the forest ground.  One by one the others followed him, the passageway too narrow for any to traverse save in single file.

At the bottom of the stairs the passageway opened up into a square room, fifteen feet on a side, with passageways continuing on perpendicularly on either side.  But Wakuren's attention was drawn to the niche in the back wall where a throne of sorts had been carved out of the solid rock, upon which was seated a skeletal being in rotting robes.  He was covered head to foot in spiderwebs.  Instinctively, Wakuren knew this wasn't just a skeleton left in place where he had died, but rather an undead guardian of some sort.  Instinctively, he used his paladin training to scan its aura and was surprised to see no tell-tale taint of evil.  Perhaps he was wrong, and this wasn't an undead creature after all?

But once Wakuren stepped foot into the room the skeletal being lurched forward in his seat, ripping through the delicate webs and sending a small flurry of tiny spiders scurrying in all directions.   Surprisingly, its aura was just as free of evil as it had been before it had animated.   "Halt!" the thing cried out.  "Who would enter the Tannenheim Crypt?"

"My name is Wakuren and I serve Cal, God of the Air and of Healing.  We seek only to fetch a dreamstone mounted on the end of a sword stored somewhere in this crypt, that it can be used to free many people currently trapped in their dreams.  In return, we would offer coins of equal or greater value."

"I never said greater!" hissed Xandro.

"Leave this place and never return!" commanded the undead being.  "I care nothing for your trapped dreamers - this crypt is for the Tannenheim family and their loyal followers only and you are trespassing upon their property!"

"I'm a member of the Tannenheim family!" called out Thurloe from the fourth spot in the single-file line.  He wasn't a Tanneheim by any means but he thought he might have found a loophole that would allow them entry without further questions.

"Liar!" accused the crypt thing, rising now from his seat and sending the spiders scurrying even faster as their webs were torn asunder.  He rose an accusing finger at the intruders and a flash of light exploded all around him.  In an instant, both Thurloe and Aelwyth (who had been standing directly behind Wakuren) had vanished, leaving the other three to deal with the enraged undead.

In a blink of an eye, Alewyth suddenly found herself elsewhere.  Gifted with dwarven darkvision, she could see perfectly fine in the pitch blackness of her new location, which was a wide hallway of sorts with alcoves of crumbling skeletons at waist level against the far wall.  There was a sort of splorching sound coming from her right; turning in that direction she saw a smaller tunnel running at a right angle from the larger corridor with the skeleton alcoves.  Peering inside, she saw an armory of sorts, with but a scant few weapons; one, a sword, lay in a pool of water in the middle of the room, its blade bubbling as if being eaten by acid.  (_So maybe that isn't water_, the dwarf amended.)  She turned back to the larger corridor and found another smaller tunnel some 25 feet or so away, and in the small room it led to she saw Thurloe standing with his back to her.  However, while the human could see nothing of the room into which he'd just been _teleported_, Alewyth could see the stone coffin in the room's center, covered to the top with soil.  The stone coffin's lid was off, leaning against a side wall, and the clumps of dirt on the floor by the coffin attested to the fact that whatever was in there occasionally got out....  There was another short tunnel on the far side of the room leading to another room with a sarcophagus in the middle of it - this one with its lid closed - but the dwarven priestess wasn't overly concerned about any other rooms just yet.

"Thurloe - it's Alewyth!" she called into the room.  "We've been _teleported_ away from the others!"  Thurloe responded by casting a _protection from evil_ spell upon himself, one he felt was even more appropriate as Alewyth started describing what was in the room with them and his mind started filling in all sorts of nasty ideas about what might be in that dirt-filled coffin....

Back on the entry stairs behind Wakuren, Xandro unpacked his lute and started playing his song of courage - in the cramped passageway, it wasn't like he could push past the half-orc and get into the room himself just yet.  Wakuren began combat against an undead creature with a tried-and-true combat strategy, casting a _cure light wounds_ spell whose positive energy could knit up cuts and bruises suffered by a living being but which acted like corrosive acid against the undead.  Sure enough, the crypt thing's bones started sizzling at the half-orc's touch.

But now that Wakuren had entered the room fully - he'd had to touch the crypt thing to channel his positive energy through it - Xandro and Zander stepped into the room and took position in opposite back corners.  The elven sorcerer cast a _scorching ray_ diagonally past Wakuren, hitting the crypt thing square on.  Zander knew many skeletal undead creatures were immune to cold energy but he'd never heard of one immune to fire, and indeed this one's bones started charring and burning from the heat of the blazing spell.  Wakuren kept his shield arm busy, smashing the metal shield into the crypt thing's body, while Xandro's tune fueled both of his friends on.  The crypt thing fought back with its claws, its magical offensive _teleport_ something it could only do but once a day - it just hoped the two trespassers it had managed to send away deeper into the complex were being taken out by the other guardians the Tannenheims had put into place.

Clumps of dirt fell aside from the open coffin as a skeletal figure rose up - a figure only Alewyth could see, for Thurloe was literally in the dark in the lightless chamber.  The dwarf saw right away it was some sort of animated skeleton, but one with some sort of weird hair...?  No, on second look the dwarven priestess realized that wasn't hair on the top of the creature's skinless skull, it was a mass of writhing earthworms.  But Thurloe was closer to the rising grave medusa than Alewyth, and thus it was the fighter who received the undead thing's horrific gaze.  Still not aware of what he was facing, Thurloe felt a cold aura wash over him as he was caught up in the grave medusa's unblinking gaze and all of a sudden he felt his limbs grow heavy.

And unseen in the next room over, the gray ooze that had been dissolving the weapons it had discovered in the armory started heading out of the short tunnel to the larger corridor but found its way blocked by something else oozing past.  Undeterred, it returned to its metallic meal and blobbed over the sword, its acidic body dissolving the weapon's metal.

Alewyth pushed past Thurloe and sent _Sjondra_ crashing into the side of the grave medusa.  The sound of warhammer on bone gave Thurloe an idea of where the enemy was in this lightless room and he brought his bastard sword crashing down upon the location, trusting Alewyth, with her darkvision, would be able to see the blow coming and get out of the way.  It also helped that part of the initial sword training he'd received from Dougal Garabedian involved fighting in conditions of absolute darkness.  He felt the impact of sword upon bone but was struggling to bring his blade to bear with his usual swiftness - something was slowing him down considerably!

Back in the front chamber, Xandro switched to his light crossbow and sent a bolt twanging at the crypt thing, as Wakuren cast another _cure light wounds_ spell on it, taking it down with positive energy.  Zander Quilson blasted it with another _scorching ray_ spell, hoping that would be enough to take it down but the crypt thing fought on, seemingly trying to push its way past the half-orc and escape to one of the side chambers but unable to push Wakuren out of its way.  It clawed at Wakuren's face enough that the half-orc finally stepped back and cast a _spiritual weapon_ spell, sending a heavy mace made of pure force enemy to do his close-in fighting for him.  Zander pressed on with his spellcasting, now down to _magic missile_ spells, while Xandro peppered the thing with crossbow bolts.  Finally, the trio's efforts brought the undead thing down, collapsing into a pile of bones where it stood.

The grave medusa turned its gaze upon Alewyth, hoping to start a transformation in her body in the same way it had done in the human's.  But dwarves were made of pretty tough stuff and the gaze attack had no effect.  Surprised at the lack of effect, the undead thing took an instinctive step backwards.  Alewyth followed, her warhammer swinging in for another powerful blow.  Thurloe could hear they had stepped away and reached into his backpack, feeling around for a sunrod.  Upon finding one, he activated it at once and was relieved to be able to see what it was they were fighting.  Then, once he'd gotten a good look at the grave medusa, he looked back upon the simpler time in life five seconds ago when he'd been blissfully unaware of such creatures.  Fortunately, he didn't have to look at it for much longer, for a final blow from _Sjondra_ crushed the creature's ribcage and it fell backwards, its bones clattering against the stone floor and back wall.  The worms crawling over its skull were still squirming around, though, and with a disgusted frown on her face Alewyth brought her warhammer up over her head and crushed skull and earthworms flat.

"Are you okay?" Alewyth asked Thurloe, whose limbs by this point were incredibly heavy - he could hardly even lift the weight of his bastard sword.  "I--think--" he began, but his sentence was cut off as his skin and armor started turning the same shade of gray.  In a matter of seconds he had become a stone statue, the light winking out from the sunrod as it and the fighter's bastard sword likewise petrified.  Alewyth was surprised at the light going out and looked over at the fighter - she'd been wiping worm squish from the head of her weapon on the back wall - to find him now a motionless statue.  She ran up to him, unsure of what to do...until she recalled the dryad Belisandre had thanked the group for rescuing her from her dream by giving them a small handful of potions and concoctions, one of which had been a vial of _stone salve_.  Opening the little box they'd gotten from the gnome wizard Grimblegrack Fishmelon, she put her hand into its extradimensional space and pulled out the vial of _stone salve_, rubbing it all over the petrified form of Thurloe.

"What happened?" Thurloe asked, once he'd been restored to his normal flesh and blood.  "What was that thing?"

"No idea," admitted Alewyth.

Wakuren walked over to one of the side rooms off the chamber in which they'd just slain the crypt thing.  There were three skeletons on each side of the room, lying in state in full plate armor, each gripping a longsword.  A quick perusal verified that none of the sword pommels had a dreamstone at the end of it and none of the skeletons gave off any evil auras to the cleric-paladin's senses.  Still, Wakuren was all but sure that as soon as they'd traversed the length of the room (or maybe got halfway through it) the half dozen would animate and attack.  So he walked the length of the chamber, exited into a wider corridor, then walked back to meet back up with Zander and Xandro.  "Seems safe," he said, surprised.  Just to be sure, he went in the other direction and saw an identical-looking chamber, also holding six armored skeletons lying in burial niches along the walls, the only difference being which way they were facing.

Still, curiosity compelled Wakuren to experiment further.  Walking back to the first chamber, he touched one of the skeletons on its armored chest plate.  The reaction was almost instant: it sat up, gauntleted hand gripping its longsword as it swung its feet over the edge of the niche and stood up, swinging its blade at the startled half-orc.  Wakuren caught the blow on his shield, noted the aura of evil blazing forth now that the undead skeleton had been brought to unholy life, and then Zander Quilson slew the thing with a _magic missile_ spell.  Wakuren spun to face the other skeletons in the room but they remained unmoving in their burial berths.

"Don't touch any of them," he advised the others.

"Wasn't really planning on it," replied Zander.

The three moved into the larger corridor, noting the skeletons lying in niches along the far side.  These skeletons were in much worse condition than the heavily-armored dozen in the two mirror-image halls of the honored dead behind them; these wretches must have been the low-ranking soldiers hired by the Tannenheim family, worthy only of short swords and leather armor that had not aged well over the many years they'd laid here in the tomb.  But Zander, holding his _everburning torch_, pointed down the corridor and shouted, "Look out - some kind of bug coming our way!"

"That's Zander!" cried Alewyth, standing in a T-section of narrow passageways leading into two separate rooms each holding a stone sarcophagus, although the one at the bottom of the "T" also held a gargoyle bent over the stone coffin that the dwarf couldn't determine as being either an unliving carving or a living creature waiting to strike.  But hearing the elf's call to his companions made her decide to come back to that room later on; in the meantime, she ran through the other sarcophagus room - this one's stone coffin holding a carving depicting a noblewoman - and popped out in the same hallway that Zander was in, casting an _aid_ spell on herself in the process.  He was pointing behind her, so she whirled around and saw a carrion crawler almost upon her.

Thurloe stuck his head (and sunrod) out enough to see the advancing grub-thing and called, "Back!" to the dwarven priestess.  They raced back into the lady-sarcophagus room, each readying their weapon of choice.  And sure enough, the carrion crawler, which had seen Zander and had been heading his way when Alewyth and Thurloe made themselves a closer-to-reach meal, altered course to pursue them instead.  Xandro got in a shot at the carrion crawler with his crossbow before it exited the larger corridor, and then Thurloe and Alewyth brought their weapons to bear.  The caterpillar-monster died before any of its eight writhing tentacles could try to get a grab on any of its intended prey.

Wakuren went in the other direction, following the wider corridor as it made a right angle and went back, under the entry stairs if the half-orc had his directions correct in his head.  He heard the same splorching sound Alewyth had heard earlier, immediately after having been _teleported_, and he managed to spot the gelatinous cube heading in his direction.  He sent a _spiritual weapon_ spell to go slam into it, knowing a floating weapon made of force energy couldn't be dissolved in the cube's acid.  Fortunately, while the cube continued its approach without slowing it wasn't traveling at a very fast pace and Wakuren got in a couple of good attacks with his _spiritual heavy mace_ before it winked out, its spell duration having run through its allotted time.

Zander cast another _magic missile_ spell at the approaching gelatinous cube.  "Borrow your crossbow?" Wakuren asked, and the bard gladly handed it over while he went back to his lute and his song of courageous inspiration.  It took several crossbow bolts and a few more _magic missiles_ (and steadily backing up so the slow-moving cube wouldn't catch up to them), but they finally slew it and it started its slow discorporation as its gelatinous body started losing cohesion.

Alewyth, in the meantime, had found another room from further down the larger corridor and, peeking inside, saw three large chests lined up against the far wall.  However, her innate stonecunning ability - an ability shared by all dwarves - warned her that the middle of the floor wasn't really stone.  She approached it cautiously and determined it was this wood painted to match the surrounding stone; she'd bet everything she had that anybody steeping foot on that patch of fake stone would be plummeting to a spike-filled pit or something.  But as there didn't seem to be any active threats in the room she decided to leave it for later, if at all.

Eventually, all five adventurers stood outside the room with the sarcophagus of what they assumed must be *Lord Tannenheim*'s sarcophagus, given the image carved into the stone lid was that of a man in plate armor wielding a longsword and it had a gargoyle (that Alewyth still glared at suspiciously) bending over from the wall above it.

"I still think that thing's alive," Alewyth insisted.

"Is it breathing?" asked Xandro.

"No, but I'm not sure if that means anything."

"Well, the dreamstone's probably on the hilt of the sword of the main guy in this twisted family, which means the guy who has a gargoyle standing watch over him, which means it's probably inside his coffin with him," reasoned Thurloe.  "Zander, you still got any _magic missile_ spells on hand?"

"Just a few, but yeah."

"Okay, keep 'em ready.  Wakuren and I will enter the room and lift up the stone lid.  Alewyth, you get ready to smack the gargoyle with your hammer if it even twitches.  Xandro, you're on grab-the-sword-as-soon-as-we-lift-the-lid detail.  Everybody got it?"  Everybody did.

Peering warily at the gargoyle the whole time, Wakuren and Thurloe entered the chamber which, fitting the head of the family, was slightly bigger than the other chambers in this crypt.  And while the crypt thing had activated as soon as a living person stepped foot into the room, the gargoyle remained perfectly still.  Thurloe shrugged; maybe it was just a statue after all.

Alewyth wasn't so sure - she held _Sjondra_ over one shoulder, ready to strike if necessary.

But the gargoyle was tricky; it waited until the half-orc and the human had their hands full lifting the heavy stone lid of Lord Tannenheim's coffin before darting forward.  It focused its attacks upon Thurloe, the less-heavily-armored of the two of them.  But while it managed to get in a few good strikes with its claws, teeth, and horn against Thurloe who was pretty much stuck in place without the ability to dodge before dropping the lid, it did so at the cost of an immediate _magic missile_ spell in the face - and then Alewyth had leaped up onto the coffin lid (just as Wakuren and Thurloe dropped it back into place to deal with the gargoyle) and swung _Sjondra_ into the winged guardian's face.  That made him back off enough that Thurloe was able to grab his bastard sword back up and for Wakuren to place his shield into attack configuration, and then the gargoyle found itself in a three-against-one melee combat with an elven sorcerer lobbing _ magic missiles_ at it and a human bard shooting it with a crossbow.  Just to shake things up, Zander tried a _ray of enfeeblement_ at the gargoyle, siphoning off some of its strength and diminishing the power of its own attacks.  The gargoyle continued focusing its attacks on Thurloe, apparently deciding to bring one foe down before attacking another one, but Alewyth slew it with a final blow from _Sjondra_ before it could take the fighter down.

"I _knew_ it was just faking!" Alewyth swore at the dead guardian.  Then Thurloe and Wakuren - after a few moments of the latter casting healing spells on the former - resumed their positions and lifted the stone coffin lid up.  Xandro grabbed up the longsword held in the grip of the long-dead Lord Tannenheim and they let the lid crash down back into place.  Sure enough, there was a sizable dreamstone on the edge of the sword's hilt.

"Well, we got it," Wakuren said.  "Let's get out of here."

"Wait," replied Alewyth.  "There's a treasure room just around the corner."

"Wait, what?" Thurloe gasped.  "You mean you're okay with looting this crypt now?  And not just of the dreamstone?"

Alewyth nodded.  "This family, anyone willing to bind their loyal followers into undead forms like that worm-medusa thing or that skeleton in the throne when we came in, they're just plain evil!  I've got no qualms about tearing this place apart and stripping it of anything we can use."

"Well, _now_ you're talking!" Thurloe whooped.  "Let's go!"

Alewyth not only led the group to the treasure chamber and warned them of the pit trap in the middle of the floor, she personally broke through the locks on the three chests.  There wasn't anything in them but coins and gems - to the value of several thousand pieces of gold, in all - but that wasn't too big of a disappointment; Alewyth poured each and every bit of treasure into their extradimensional box.

"Okay," Alewyth said once the last of the coins had been dropped into their box and she'd closed and latched the lid.  "_Now_ we can go."

"May I say, you have never looked lovelier than you do right now," pointed out Thurloe, more than a little pleased at her new attitude.  Then, recalling how she'd restored him to flesh and blood using the _stone salve_, he turned to the others and said, "Did I mention she rubbed her hands all over my body when we were separated from you guys?"

"Enough of that!" snarled Alewyth.  Thurloe was pleased enough at the extra money they'd snagged from this little plundering session that he gladly let the teasing drop.

 - - -

This adventure took about two and a half hours to run through, or maybe just a little over.  Joe got a call around 4:50, right as they were about to go into the chamber with the gargoyle; it was his boss, calling to see if Joe would come in to work at 5:30.  So then this turned into a speed session, with everybody rolling their attacks and damage dice together and doing everything possible to speed up the combat.  I offered to let Joe take off right then and there (he'd have to go get changed at home before going in to work) and I'd drive his parents home (and then they said they could just walk home; it's only like a 10-15-minute walk from their house to mine), but Joe said his boss was cool if he was a little late since it was such short notice.

The grave medusa was a creature I made up after imagining what a skeletal medusa would look like and then realizing earthworms would be more thematically appropriate than skeletal snakes to an undead skeleton who could slowly turn people to stone over the course of three rounds.  (And to be clear, a grave medusa isn't an undead medusa but rather something a human can be turned into after death with the appropriate necromantic rituals.)  In fact, when creating the grave medusa's stats I realized it was too powerful for this adventure and then made up stats for a _lesser_ grave medusa.

 - - -

T-shirt worn: Still my "Hanes Moore Family Reunion" T-shirt with the silhouette of a tree, since it was the same game session as "Forest Dreams."  But this time the tree was representing the Tannenheim family tree.


----------



## Richards (Oct 9, 2021)

*ADVENTURE 18: MONKEY BUSINESS*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 4​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 1​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 2/paladin 2​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 4​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 4​
Game Session Date: 2 October 2021

 - - -

"I have to turn in my spellbook?" demanded Thurloe.  He wasn't particularly thrilled with the idea of releasing custody of the spellbook Mistress Jandoval had given him to practice his novice-level spells, especially now that he'd actually started making sense of them.

"It's the rule," Xandro explained.  "Anyone entering Baron's Haven has to turn in all spellbooks and magic scrolls."

The group was far enough back in line that Zander felt he could still pass on his thoughts without being overheard by the armed warriors - hobgoblins, by the look of them, and wearing the tabards of the High King of Armaturia, no less! - who were interrogating everyone passing through the city gates.  "Would it fit inside the candy dish?" he asked quietly, referring to the extradimensional chest they'd received from the gnome wizard Grimblegrack Fishmelon.  When opened, it gave the appearance of holding nothing more substantial than hard candy.

"Nah," Thurloe answered.  "It's too big."  Zander had a handful of magic scrolls that would easily fit inside the extradimensional opening but he figured he'd follow Thurloe's lead.  Finally the fighter-wizard shrugged and said, "Okay, fine, I guess.  I assume we'll get them back when we leave?"

"They'll give you a receipt when you turn them in," Xandro reassured him.  He'd been through the city before and knew its ways - in fact, he even knew the innkeeper of the Merry Minstrel, the location of the next dream victim they were to rescue.  So when they got to the front of the line, Thurloe handed over his spellbook without argument and received a receipt so he could pick it up when he left the city.  Zander did likewise with his arcane scrolls.  The hobgoblins informed the group - as they told everyone entering the city - that unauthorized spellcasting was not allowed within the confines of the city's walls, by order of *Baron Korvail Devlin* himself.  Spellcasting could be performed under the supervision of one of the clerics of Delphyne, the Goddess of Magic, or at any of the various temples under proper observation.  But any other spellcasting would have consequences, from simple fines to immediate incarceration and confiscation of all worldly goods, permanent banishment from the city, or even death.

"Good to know," Thurloe observed as the group entered the city gates.  Then, once they were out of earshot of the hobgoblin security forces, he asked Xandro, "What's the big fear about people casting spells?"

"Nobody knows for sure," the bard replied.  "Some say the Baron has had his future foretold, in which it was determined he would most likely be slain by a spell.  Others claim he's plagued by recurring nightmares of someone killing him with a spell and has chosen to take matters into his own hands.  But I wouldn't want to push the rule - best if we refrain from spellcasting if we can help it."

"They'd seriously kill us for casting a healing spell on someone?" asked Alewyth.  That made no sense to the priestess of Aerik.

"Well, obviously the spell being cast would have some bearing on the punishment you receive.  I imagine you wouldn't get in as much trouble for having cast a _cure light wounds_ spell on an injured orphan as you would casting a _fireball_ into a crowded marketplace."

Xandro led the group through the winding streets of Baron's Haven until they reached the Merry Minstrel Inn, a large, single-story structure in the better part of the common sector of the city.  There was a reliable stable next door where the group's mounts could be cared for and their wagon stored until needed.  Then the heroes entered the inn and were met by the white-haired owner, *Jorbalee Bennicut*.  "Xandro Silverstrings!" she said with real delight in her voice.  "As I live and breathe!  It's been a while since you've been out this way!  Are you up for providing some entertainment in the evenings during your stay?"

Xandro agreed at once and then explained the reason for their visit.  Jorbalee expressed amazement that they knew of her sleeping guest and had a means to try to wake her from her weeks-long slumber.  "You're welcome to give it a shot," she told the group, "but we had a cleric of Cal in here to try to revive her and none of his spells had any effect."

After entering their names into the guest book and handling over their keys, Jorbalee led them to their individual rooms to drop off their gear and then took them to where the dreamer lay.  "She's a pretty well-known bard, a traveler like yourself," Jorbalee told Xandro.  "Name of *Carmen Melodius*."

"I've heard of her," Xandro replied.  "I've heard she's good."

"Well, I couldn't say as to that," Jorbalee sighed.  "I showed her to her room and then sent one of the maids to fetch her when she never showed up for her first session at evening meal.  She was passed out cold on her bed and we tried everything to wake her, to no effect."  She put the key into the lock of a small room, the size of the rooms each of the heroes had chosen for their own overnight dwellings: a small, square room with walls 10 feet to a side, which contained a single bed and a large chest for holding one's gear.  Opening the door, the group got their first look at Carmen Melodius.  She was a young woman, with chestnut brown hair that came to the middle of her back.  She was human, but with delicate features hinting at the possibility of some elven ancestry somewhere in her family tree.  She lay upon her back, breathing quietly.  Xandro noted the lute propped up against the room's storage chest; it was nicely made, no doubt of masterwork quality.

"We put her here in one of the smaller rooms once it was obvious she wasn't waking up any time soon," Jorbalee admitted.  "And that was nearly a month ago."

Alewyth explained the procedures the group would be using to try to revive the dreamer.  "You won't be casting spells, will you?" Jorbalee asked, a note of worry in her voice.

"Not at all," assured the dwarven priestess.  "But we'll need a larger room for us to make our attempt, as it works best if we sit around her in a circle and this room is kind of small for that.  Is there another room we could use?"  Jorbalee offered up a currently vacant room some 15 by 20 feet.  "That will do nicely," Alewyth agreed and Wakuren scooped the sleeping bard up in his arms to carry her to the new location.

Once in the larger bedroom, Wakuren laid Carmen on the bed and then he and Thurloe pulled it into the middle of the room.  Alewyth placed a leather headband around Carmen's head, in the center of which lay a dreamstone, which she positioned to sit in the middle of her forehead.  Then each of the group pulled out their own headband and tied it into place.   They took their places around the bed, sitting cross-legged with their backs straight in a meditation posture.  "What should I do?" asked Jorbalee.

"If you don't mind, you can stay here and watch over us as we sleep," Wakuren answered her.  "And please feel free to wake us up in an emergency."  The innkeeper agreed and watched as each of the five closed their eyes, slowed their breathing, and eventually fell asleep in a sitting position.  She wasn't quite sure how they accomplished it; that didn't look to be particularly comfortable and she doubted if she'd be able to sit in such a configuration herself at her age.

Carmen's dream was somewhat unusual in that she didn't seem to appear in it; while this wasn't unique in the dreams of the people the five heroes had rescued thus far, in most cases they'd appeared in their own dreams.  But the five stepped into the dream side by side, finding themselves in a strange jungle, with trees overhead covered in silvery-green leaves, while two suns beat down overhead in a purple sky.

"Weird place," muttered Zander, looking around.

A sudden crashing sound brought everyone's attention to a section of jungle up ahead and to their right.  Trees were being uprooted and tossed aside, while a deep roar echoed from all directions.  In a moment, a massive ape stepped into a clearing, contemptuously tossing aside a tree he'd just pulled from the ground for the crime of being in his way.  Then he roared again, beating his chest with hands that were each much larger than any of the heroes.

"Weaken him!" suggested Thurloe, holding up a dreamstone in his hand before him as if it could ward off the giant gorilla.  The others followed suit, each doing their level best to try to weaken the dream-ape, either by shrinking him down or siphoning off some of his impressive strength.  It was difficult to see whether their attempts were having any success, and then the 50-foot-tall gorilla locked eyes with Alewyth and rushed forward, running on his back legs and the knuckles of his enormous hands.  He crossed the clearing before Alewyth could even bring _Sjondra_ up to try to ward him off and his closed fist came crashing down upon the dwarven priestess, crushing her flat in one blow.

The others instantly panicked, dropping everything they held in their hands and fleeing at top speed as far away from the ape as they could.  But he was too big, too fast - one by one, he scooped them up and crushed them in his hands or stomped them into a pile of shattered bones and torn flesh beneath his feet.  In each case, they were snapped back awake as they "died" in the dream.

"Is everything okay?" Jorbalee asked nervously, seeing them flutter their eyelids and snap awake (often with a gasp or a stifled scream).

"It's gone better," admitted Thurloe.  Looking around the room and seeing everyone was now awake, he said, "Okay, that didn't work.  Let's go in again and this time we'll try to show up at different points in the jungle instead of all clumped together like we were last time."  Based on their past experiences, when they went into the same dream on subsequent attempts it would have "reset" to the same point it had been at when they'd first entered.

It took minutes of resettling themselves to readiness for sleep, and then one by one they each arrived back in the Dreamlands.  "Didn't work out so well, huh, kupo? asked Mogo.

"We have a new plan," Thurloe assured him as he stepped through the dream doorway and back into Carmen Melodius's dream.

Sure enough, the jungle had been restored and the dream-ape was just now destroying the northeastern section of trees as the other dreamwalkers popped into the jungle at various different points.  At least it would take longer for the ape to chase them all down this way - and now that they were prepared, Thurloe hoped they wouldn't be affected by the sudden panic the first sight of the massive ape, ten times taller than a man, had fostered in their hearts.

The ape beat its chest in the clearing and roared its defiance as the five dreamwalkers each tried using their lucid dreaming training to somehow weaken the beast.  The ape looked all about him, finally spotting Thurloe and racing his way.  "Oh, sh--" the fighter got out before the ape's massive fist crushed him into paste.

Alewyth decided to try a different tactic.  Lucid dreaming wasn't always as successful in every dream, as each dreamscape seemed to have its own set of rules, its own internal logic.  So she decided to treat this not as a dream to be manipulated to her own desired end state but rather to act as if it were happening in the Mortal World.  Thus, she fought it here as she would have fought it there, by casting a _spiritual weapon_ spell.  A dwarven warhammer formed of solid force materialized beside the startled gorilla and smashed him in the face.  He roared in anger and instinctively swatted at it but it dodged in the air and avoided his grasp.

Wakuren followed Alewyth's lead and a second _spiritual weapon_ took shape, this one a heavy mace, the weapon favored by Cal, God of Air and Healing.  It too slammed into the giant gorilla, while Zander tossed his _figurine of wondrous power_ over by the ape.  The cooshee took on full-sized elven dog form - and was crushed underfoot almost immediately by the massive simian.  Then the dream-ape ran over to Alewyth, scooping her up in one hand, biting off her head, and then spinning and throwing her headless body at Zander Quilson, snapping his neck by the speed of his throw.

Wakuren had activated his _ring of invisibility_ and crept up behind the ape, wondering if it might be possible to somehow crawl up his leg and back, so he could attempt a shield-strike against the back of the ape's skull.  But the creature spun around and snatched up the half-orc, who apparently hadn't been as invisible to the ape's senses as he might have hoped.  The cleric-paladin was crushed between the ape's hands and his crumpled body tossed to the ground, while the ape looked about until he found Xandro.

"Uh oh," gulped Xandro as the ape sped in his direction.  Using the training he'd received by his moogle instructors, the bard willed himself awake before he got to experience "death" again at the hands of the bloodthirsty ape.

"Well, that's no good," Thurloe complained when everyone was back awake.  They talked it out among themselves and decided this was another dream well beyond their present ability to handle.  Xandro explained their failure to Jorbalee.  "We've encountered this once before," he told her.  "We'll do with Carmen what we did with the other dreamer we were unable to save: leave a dreamstone in contact with her forehead so she can attune with it over time, and we'll be back later after we've had additional training.  Would it be okay if she stays in that other room where her gear was placed?"  Jorbalee agreed that would be fine and a dejected Wakuren picked Carmen back up in his arms and carried back to her own smaller room.

That done, the heroes decided to do some shopping now that they were in a decent-sized city, for most of their travels thus far, besides an excursion into a pair of dwarven Underdark cities, had been among smaller villages.  They'd each amassed a fair amount of coin and were eager to spend some of it, hopefully on magic items that would make their combats that much easier.  But other than a few scant potion shops, they were disappointed to find Baron's Haven hosted no major magic shops at all.  Wakuren stopped by the local Temple of Cal and spoke with the clerics there, paying them in advance to craft him a _wand of cure light wounds_.  Thurloe likewise ordered a _wand of magic missiles_ from the wizards at the Temple of Delphyne, who advised them they could craft the wand but would need to deliver it to him outside the confines of the city.  In each case, it would take three days of crafting to have the wands ready.  Figuring there wasn't a real rush to get to the next dream victim (and with Xandro eager to earn some extra coin playing for the guests at the Merry Minstrel Inn), they agreed to stay in town long enough to take delivery of the wands.

At dinner time that night, the other four were sitting at two tables facing the corner of the dining area, where Xandro played the lute and sang on a raised stage.  Jorbalee was bringing over a basket of rolls when all of a sudden she teetered, her eyes rolled up into her head, and she collapsed forward onto the floor, the dinner rolls bouncing along the floor.  Zander was the first to notice and he jumped up from the bench to see to her.  "She's not responding," he said when he tried waking her up by slapping her gently.

Xandro announced a brief intermission and joined the others in seeing to Jorbalee's condition.  It was just like all of the other dream victims they'd dealt with so far, although this was the first time they had heard of someone being affected while awake.  But they got one of the servers to fetch them the key to the larger room where they'd tried waking Carmen and Wakuren placed her on the bed, which was pulled back to the middle of the room.  With hungry guests to attend to, the server couldn't stick around so Zander activated his _figurine of wondrous power_ and commanded his elven dog to wake him up if there were any disturbances here in the room while the five dreamwalkers tried entering Jorbalee's dream to pull her back to wakefulness.

This time the dream almost seemed familiar, for it took place in some underworld lit only by the streams and rivulets of magma - very similar to the dream of Lady Camilla Middlewich, only instead of the dream-victim being suspended in a web-cocoon and being menaced by a giant spider, Jorbalee's wrists and ankles were bound and she had been thrown over the back of an ebon-skinned horse who was rapidly carrying her away.  This was no ordinary horse, though, as evidenced by the flames it had in place of a mane and those encompassing its hooves as it raced across the hellish landscape.

"Weaken it!" Thurloe commanded for the second time that day, raising the dreamstone he held in his hand like a magic talisman.  The others did the same, doing what they could to try to weaken the nightmare bearing Jorbalee away from them.  And this time it seemed to have an effect, for the creature, who had been running through the air several feet above the surface of the magma-cracked stone beneath it, was forced back down to ground level and its speed noticeably decreased - enough so that Wakuren and Thurloe were able to chase after it, even though that meant jumping across ever-widening streams of liquid magma.  Alewyth cast a _bless_ spell on the group and Xandro began his song of courageous inspiration, until the half-orc was close enough to slam his shield against the nightmare's flank, just as Thurloe cut it with his bastard sword from the other side.  Zander cast a _ray of enfeeblement_ spell at the hell-beast, weakening it even further.  The nightmare lashed out with his flaming hooves, but before too long the heroes had slain it.  It vanished immediately upon death, leaving a bound Jorbalee to fall to the ground - but not before Wakuren could leap below her and prevent her from getting burned by the magma.  She landed awkwardly upon the cleric-paladin's armored back, as his face was pushed into the burning lava...

...and then the dreamscape vanished all around them and everyone woke back up.  They were back in the inn, the cooshee wagging its tail at seeing them back to full wakefulness, Wakuren instinctively feeling his face to make sure it hadn't been burned.  "What happened?  Why are we here?" asked the innkeeper, a puzzled frown on her face as she tried to recall the dream that was even now starting to fade now that she was back awake.  She had been bringing out a basket of rolls, she remembered that....

Alewyth filled her in on what had transpired and then Jorbalee leaped to her feet and rushed back to see to her guests, embarrassed to have fallen asleep on the job as she had.  Thurloe and Wakuren pushed the bed back up against the wall while Xandro went back to finish his musical set back in the dining area.  The others followed and the rest of the evening was uneventful.  And Jorbalee returned the fees for the rooms overnight, furthermore insisting that their dinners were on the house.

It was the next morning, with the group at one of the dining tables eating a decent breakfast, when the next bit of excitement made itself known.  Thurloe was devouring his fourth piece of thick bacon when he heard a commotion just outside the inn.  There was a crashing sound, the unmistakable sound of horses crying out in fear, and a roar of anger and pain that sounded very much like that of the dream-ape they'd fought - twice - to no avail in the dreamscape of Carmen Melodius.  Thurloe leaped up from the bench and ran to the inn's front door, standing on the porch and looking to see what was going on.  There, on the street in front of the inn was an overturned wagon, with the enormous wooden crate that had been lashed to it laying in the street with a good chunk of the back side smashed open along the top.  The four horses that had been pulling the wagon were in distress, the rear two struggling to get back up onto their legs after the wagon - which looked to have overturned after one wheel hit a rut in the road - had pulled them over as it spilled on its side.  The wagon's driver had been thrown some distance and was holding his head in one hand as he struggled to stand up without falling over.  And running up from behind the wagon were two men and a mastiff dog.  The smaller of the two men was completely bald, carried a wooden staff, and wore a green hooded robe and laced sandals.  But he was by no means a small man, only seeming so in contrast to the hulking brute who came up behind him with his mastiff dog, for this hairy peasant looked to be nearly seven feet tall, with thick sideburns.

The bald man ran up to the crate making soothing noises while the large peasant approached the inn, where the other heroes had joined Thurloe to see what was up.  "Everything's okay," boomed the peasant.  "Sorry for any disturbance, but everything's under control now.  Please go back inside - there's nothing to see here."

That seemed particularly fishy to Zander, for everything did not seem to be under control: whatever was inside the wooden crate was still roaring and trying to pound its way out and the horses were still succumbing to panic.  On a hunch, the elf activated the _true seeing_ aspect of his _scout’s headband_.  And what he saw surprised him beyond all belief, for under the effects of the headband the elf saw not a towering peasant but a massive gorilla, and not a mastiff dog but a baboon.  Both wore collars and the gorilla was still talking, trying to convince everyone that there was no need for anyone to render any assistance.

Wakuren stood right behind Zander and he was using his paladin training to try to detect any evil in the area.  Sure enough, he was able to sense a source of evil, and while it would take him a moment's concentration to determine its exact location he was pretty sure it was going to be focused on the bald man over by the crate, who wasn't the least bit concerned by the cries of the horses or the bleeding head of the driver but was instead focused on the creature trying to break out of the crate - and just about succeeding, by this time.

Xandro pulled his lute from his back and began a tune quite different from the ones he usually played in combat; rather than inspiring courage in his friends, the better to aim their strikes with weapons and spells, he played a tune designed to fascinate those who might otherwise wish to do him or his friends harm.  And the tune worked, almost instantly, for the large peasant stopped talking and the mastiff sat down on his haunches, mesmerized by the bard's tune.

"That big guy's a gorilla," Zander whispered to the others.  "And that dog's a baboon."

"I'm going to go check on the driver," Thurloe announced, heading towards the horses, all four of which were now back up on their feet.  The driver was on the other side of them, so the fighter was going to have to skirt around them.

"Bald guy's evil!" Wakuren announced, having by this time discerned that he was indeed the source of the emanations of evil he'd been picking up.  He wound his way around the _fascinated_ apes in the collars that cloaked them in illusions so they could fit in among the people in a large city without drawing any attention to themselves.  The half-orc still wasn't sure what _that_ was all about, but he was more interested in confronting the bald man at this point.  As Wakuren approached, Zander stepped down off the porch and threw a thunderstone at the bald man, having assumed he was a spellcaster and hoping to mess up his ability to cast spells by deafening him.  The stone exploded in a cacophony of noise but it failed to deafen the bald man, who merely looked annoyed at the attempt.  He moved his hands and spoke something that Wakuren, who was fast approaching him at this point, could tell was some sort of spellcasting, although he couldn't determine the exact spell being cast.  It wasn't directed at him, in any case, rather at the creature inside the crate.

Only the creature wasn't inside the crate for very much longer.  With a final punch, the crate's side gave way and out stepped a dire ape - not as big as the dream-ape in Carmen Melodius's dream, but standing a good nine feet tall.  The bald man pointed at Wakuren and the dire ape obliged, smashing a simian fist into the half-orc's face and sending him reeling back.  Alewyth stepped down from the inn's porch and almost cast a spell to aid her friend, but looked around warily and saw a number of bystanders accumulating in the area (although one look at the loose dire ape in the city generally spun them about and had them fleeing at top speed).  She didn't dare risk it.  Instead, grumbling to herself, she fished her old sling from a belt pouch and started making her way towards the brawl.

Thurloe had gone around the horses and was now approaching the bald man from the west.  He pulled the composite bow from his back and readied an arrow as he moved forward.  Xandro continued his song, knowing full well his power to keep the two apes _fascinated_ would only continue to work for so long - still, it was a way to keep them out of the fight for a bit, so he was determined to make it last as long as he could.

With a look of irritation, the bald druid cast another spell, not in the least bit concerned about who might see him do so.  Immediately, thick briars rose up from the ground, forming a full _wall of thorns_ in the street blocking the overturned wagon from the inn.  Wakuren was already on the inner side of the curved wall and Thurloe was approaching from the west, but it would keep the others at bay, for it stood 5 feet tall and was twice that in thickness.  Alewyth, her path blocked by the thorny barrier, started heading east to go around it.  She loaded a thunderstone into her sling instead of a normal sling bullet.

Then the dire ape stood to his full height and Alewyth had a perfect shot lined up even despite the _wall of thorns_ between her and her target, who was pulling the bald druid up onto his shoulder.  She wound up and released her thunderstone, which struck the ape's back and exploded in sound, but likewise failed to deafen either the ape or the druid.  Still, it had been worth the attempt.

Wakuren, anger stoked, cast a _spiritual weapon_ spell, not caring if anybody saw him do so - this was obviously in the best interests of the city at large and he was sure he could talk his way out of any kind of penalty if it came to that.  A heavy mace of solid force manifested by the dire ape's back and the half-orc caused it to go slamming towards the bald spellcaster who was obviously behind this whole situation somehow.  But *Manu the Awakener* dodged the incoming blow and looked contemptuously down at the half-orc.  "Do not waste time trying to stop me!" he yelled down to Wakuren at a volume much louder than needed; perhaps the thunderstones had had some sort of an effect after all.

The dire ape roared in pain as it moved away from the overturned wagon, taking a moment to pull out the arrow Thurloe had just sent streaking into his side.  Then a cooshee suddenly sprang into being at the dire ape's feet; Zander having just thrown the _figurine of wondrous power_ over the _wall of thorns_.  The elven dog barked furiously at the dire ape, stopping only long enough to bite at a hairy ankle.  But then Manu cast another spell and suddenly there was an entire swarm of spiders crawling all around - and over - both the cooshee and Wakuren.  Both felt the pinpricks of innumerable bites on their flesh as spider venom started coursing its way through their veins.

But by now Alewyth had reached the eastern end of the _wall of thorns_ and had pulled a tanglefoot bag from her pack.  Winding up for a good throw, she hurled it at the dire ape's foot and it exploded in a puff of dust that quickly hardened in the air, adhering the ape's foot and leg to the cobblestone street.  With a grunt of surprise and dismay, the dire ape realized he was stuck in place!

Manu looked down to see what was preventing his _dominated_ riding mount from making any progress and in doing so got clobbered by Wakuren's _spiritual heavy mace_.  The half-orc had been chasing after the retreating dire ape, swatting away stray spiders and he ran, and had caught up to him now that the simian's forward progress had been halted.  Thurloe shot another arrow at the ape, causing it to roar in fury.  By then, Xandro's song had run its course and the two apes who had been _fascinated_ by it snapped out of their lethargy and looked about them at the chaos that had arisen while they hadn't been paying attention.  The gorilla - to all but Zander, a large, heavyset peasant - spun about and chased after Wakuren slamming him in the back of his head with a massive fist.  Zander chased off after Alewyth, heading for the eastern edge of the _wall of thorns_.

The cooshee exited the pile of spiders, took a moment to shake off most of the ones crawling in and on his fur, and then bounded after the stuck dire ape, snapping at his other leg as the giant simian broke free of the hardened goo by a massive effort.

And it was at this point the four hobgoblins showed up.

"What's going on?" one demanded as he approached Xandro, who was still over on the front porch of the inn where he'd been playing his lute.  "Who's responsible for these thorn bushes?"  Another approached Alewyth, stopping her from advancing past the _wall of thorns_ and demanding answers to the same question.  Both the bard and the priestess of Aerik gave the same answer, pointing at the bald druid riding on the shoulder of a dire ape - and then, as if to prove his own guilt, he blatantly cast another spell: an _animal growth_ spell that caused the dire ape to expand to twice his already considerable height.  With longer legs and a longer stride, it continued its flight from the others and had soon scrambled out of view, taking a corner onto a side street.

Looking back and seeing the hobgoblin guards, Wakuren quietly dismissed his _spiritual weapon_ spell, hoping it hadn't been noticed, and turned to face the peasant who was hitting him in the back.  The half-orc knew Zander had said this was really a gorilla, but if it was the illusion was very well crafted, for Wakuren would never have guessed he was fighting off anybody other than a very large human.  He brought his shield smashing into the ape's side, and then the baboon - still to all appearances a large mastiff dog - raced up and started biting Wakuren as well.

Thurloe had continued his advance and even though the dire ape and the bald spellcaster had gotten away, he now had two other targets within range.  Firing an arrow at the mastiff, he got it in the throat and it fell over, dead.  Even in death, though, it retained the illusion of being a large dog.

"*Bongo*!" cried the "peasant," enraged at the death of his companion.  Thurloe was still too far away to punish, but the half-orc was right here so *Ngoto* continued pummeling Wakuren with his gorilla fists.

"Those two are really apes," Zander explained to one of the hobgoblins, and when the guard looked skeptical the elf took off his magical headband and handed it over.  "See for yourself," he offered.  The hobgoblin put it on and cried out a crude exclamation of surprise.  "He's right!" he called to his three companions as the cooshee helped Wakuren fight off the gorilla as best he could, even though it meant being one of the closest targets to the swarm of spiders, which quickly encompassed the elven dog, Wakuren, and the gorilla - the spiders gave no preferential treatment to the allies of the man who had summoned them here.  That was enough for the gorilla, who decided it was time to high-tail it out of here and try to catch back up with Manu; unfortunately, to do so he ran close enough to Thurloe to give him time to pull the bastard sword from his back and bring it swinging down upon the "peasant's" head.  He fell to the ground, dead from the fighter's blow - and the illusion-dampening powers of the sword caused it to be revealed as the simian creature it really was.

After that, the hobgoblins started taking statements from the eyewitnesses.  Fortunately, nobody had seen any of the heroes casting spells, although there were plenty of eyewitnesses to Manu having done so.  Thurloe bent over the body of the "mastiff" and removed its collar, revealing its true baboon form.  Once the hobgoblins were satisfied they had enough information, they offered up a reward of 50 gold pieces for slaying the dire ape and 100 pieces of gold for bringing in the bald druid, dead or alive.  "We're on it!" answered Thurloe, eager for a second chance of taking the bald guy down.

The heroes headed out in the direction the dire ape had last been seen, picking up sightings by eyewitnesses who eventually led then to the edge of the city, where a bystander had said the ape climbed right over the city walls and was heading into the Darkwood Forest.  "We've likely lost them, then," lamented Alewyth.

"Not necessarily," remarked Zander.  "Cooshees are excellent trackers."

That certainly ended up being the case.  The group headed back to the city gate by which they had entered the previous day and Thurloe and Zander retrieved their spellbook and scrolls, respectively.  Then they walked along the outside of the city wall until the cooshee picked up the dire ape's scent - and then he was off like a shot, with the others racing to catch up with him.  The ape wasn't particularly difficult to track, either, for his greater weight meant he left quite deep footprints in the dirt and had left a distinctive trail of broken branches and pushed-aside smaller trees in his wake.  Eventually, they tracked the dire ape into a clearing after a mere 20 minutes or so of following the trial through the forest.

Zander grabbed his cooshee and held him at bay so the elven dog wouldn't go rushing right up to the bald druid before the others had had time to prepare for combat.  But in the meantime, they were puzzling over what he was doing, for the dire ape - now at its original size, a still-respectable nine feet tall - was stretched out on his back upon the forest floor and the druid was in the process of attaching heavy manacles to each limb.  The chains connected to the manacles had been fastened to the trunks of sturdy trees.  "This is necessary," the druid told his compliant dire ape (for the _dominate animal_ spell he'd cast upon the simian earlier was still in effect), "for the spell I must cast upon you to awaken you to your full intellect takes a full 24 hours.  But then you will have gained your full birthright and will join your brothers as one of us."  He snapped the third manacle in place around the dire ape's right wrist and moved over to do the same with the creature's other hand.  The heroes, watching silently at the edge of the clearing, decided not to do anything until the dire ape had been fully restrained.

Alewyth scanned the area for any other potential allies the bald druid might have hanging around but saw none.  There was a simple tent over by a clump of trees, small enough it would only hold the druid and no others.  She spotted a few nests on the ground, one large enough for the gorilla and a smaller one likely belonging to the baboon, but they had both been slain in the city and the lack of any other such nests bode well that there weren't any other _awakened_ apes in the vicinity.  Over on the other side of the clearing was a mound of dirt with a flat rock somewhat askew at the top of it, but no indications of anyone but the druid that they'd be facing.

In the meantime, Thurloe quietly cast a _shield_ spell upon himself, since he'd left his buckler back in the inn.  Then, once the dire ape had been fully chained in place, the fighter gave a nod to Zander and he cast the spell he'd been waiting to use.  Instantly, the _scorching ray_ leaped from his fingertips to strike Manu the Awakener, who cried out in pain and surprise at the unexpected attack.  Seeing that battle was now on, the cooshee darted forward and bit at Manu's leg.  Then, sensing uncast spells in the druid's prepared repertoire, the dog snatched one of them up and ripped it from Manu's inventory.  The latent spell energy, he knew, could be converted to be used by his sorcerer master.

Xandro had unpacked his lute during the wait for combat to begin and now he started strumming the chords to his most commonly-used tune, the one inspiring his friends to greater heights of courage.  Thurloe had his composite bow out and sent an arrow flying over to strike the druid before he could retaliate with a spell.  So far, the three attacks - Zander's spell, the cooshee's spell-ripping bite, and Thurloe's arrow - had all happened in a matter of mere seconds, before the druid had even realized the danger he was in.

But now a flash of movement caught Thurloe's eye.  Off to the right, a pair of burly figures stepped into view.  The fighter recognized them as bugbears right away, for they'd tangled with one of them back at the old abandoned silver mine where he had ended up taking his bastard sword _Spellslicer_ from the hands of its previous owner, who'd been transformed into a yellow musk zombie.  This pair had solemn faces that turned to anger as they looked down at the pile of dirt and the misplaced stone at their feet.  Then they stepped forward and each let a javelin fly, one aimed at Thurloe and the other at Zander.  Whatever had angered them, they had apparently decided the five heroes were a part of it.

Alewyth cast a _bless_ spell on the group, glad to no longer be under the ridiculous restrictions of Baron's Haven.  Wakuren cast a _spiritual weapon_ and sent it hurtling at Manu's head, then activated his _ring of invisibility_ and faded from view.  The heavy mace struck the druid on the side of the head, causing him to topple over on his side, unconscious, with his life's blood dripping onto the leaves of the forest floor below him.  Behind him, the dire ape struggled against his bonds, but the manacles and chains had been made thick enough to keep him bound.  He roared in fury, struggling to free himself to no avail.

But even though Manu, the man they'd been sent to take down, was out of the fight it looked like the two bugbears had stepped up to take his place.  Zander, not liking having been targeted by a bugbear javelin (even if it had just barely missed him), cast another _scorching ray_ spell, this time targeted against the one who had thrown his javelin at the elven sorcerer.  The bugbear erupted in flame for a brief moment, but luckily for him it hadn't lasted long enough to start his fur blazing.

The cooshee ran up and almost tackled his master in his exuberance, tail wagging furiously as he transferred the spell energy into Zander's frame.  The elf knew instinctively that he now had more spell energy than he'd had a moment before, and also how powerful a spell it would allow him to cast.  He smiled at the thought that he could now cast one more _scorching ray_ than he'd have been able to cast normally.  "Good dog!" he called down to his canine companion.

Xandro was continuing his lute playing when all of a sudden he was attacked from an unexpected direction: a small monkey dropped down from the branches overhead and started clawing at the young bard's face.  "Hurt master!" the monkey snarled.  Alewyth and Thurloe found themselves in the same predicament, with a snarling, shrieking monkey dropping on their heads and scrambling all around their shoulders and backs, pulling on their hair and scratching them with their claws.  Thurloe's adversary bent over and bit him on the ear.

Thurloe wasn't having any of that!  Realizing it was a dangerous maneuver and one likely to cause him a rather embarrassing self-inflicted wound if he missed, he dropped his bow at his feet and brought his bastard sword out of the sheath on his back.  Then he brought the sharp side of the blade up against the monkey, with enough force to poke into its furry body but not enough power behind it to continue on into the side of his own head.  It was, he thought to himself, somewhat like shaving, only he was trying to scrape off a deranged monkey from his face instead of several days' worth of whiskers.  Sadly, the monkey was too nimble to have been brushed away with such a slow attack and he perched himself on the top of the fighter's head, one hand pulling on the ear he'd bitten.

Alewyth, with _Sjondra_ in hand, wasn't foolish enough to use it to try to strike the monkey plaguing her - she knew she'd likely only bonk herself in the head in the process.  She instead tried grabbing the monkey with her free hand, but it was able to scramble out of the way, scampering across her back and ending up on the other shoulder.  It howled profanities in her face, something the dwarven priestess had never before in her life experienced.

Wakuren redirected his still-active _spiritual weapon_ at the bugbear Zander had fried with his spell, and the heavy mace bashed in the side of the creature's skull, slaying him instantly.  Zander cast another _scorching ray_ at the other bugbear, but unfortunately for the elf his target managed to duck under the fiery blast at the last moment.  But the cooshee snapped his jaws at the bugbear's leg, getting a good grip on his left leg.  He tried toppling the bugbear onto his back, but the foe had too stable of a footing for that to occur.  Instead, he brought his morningstar crashing down on top of the cooshee's head, causing him to howl in pain and instantly release his grip upon the goblinoid's leg.

Xandro dropped his lute to the ground and tried grabbing the monkey biting his face.  He was unable to catch the nimble foe and reached to his belt for the dagger he wore there in a sheath, at this point willing to risk a self-inflicted wound if it would get the hairy enemy to leave him alone.  Thurloe was able to catch his monkey with the blade of his sword, causing it to howl in pain.  Alewyth had likewise managed to clock her monkey a good one with a dwarven fist, then grabbed an arm and got a good grip on it.  But the monkey similarly had a good grip on her hair and wasn't about to be pulled off his victim that easily.

Wakuren had by this time positioned himself behind the remaining bugbear, noticing absently there were words carved into the lopsided stone on the raised pile of dirt.  He slammed his shield into the unsuspecting bugbear's back, popping back into visibility as he did so.  Zander, deciding the bugbear was likely being sufficiently taken care of by Wakuren and his own elven dog, decided to help the others who were being savaged by the little monkeys.  A _magic missile_ spell had three missiles streaking from the elf's fingertips, two of them hitting the monkey on Thurloe's head and killing it outright, the other one hitting the monkey on Xandro, causing it to squeal in outrage and hold still long enough for the bard to get a good grip on it and fling it away.  He then pulled the light crossbow from his back and - tempting as it was to target the little tormentor-monkey - sent a bolt crashing into the remaining bugbear.

Heavily wounded, the loyal cooshee snapped at the bugbear again, receiving for his efforts another blow from the bloody morningstar that almost killed him outright.  Xandro shot the bugbear again and Thurloe ran up to him and sent a powerful swing of his bastard sword slicing into the goblinoid's side.  This was enough to finally kill him; blood spilled from his lips along with some incomprehensible curse in the Goblin tongue.

Zander took care of the remaining two monkeys with another _magic missile_ spell.  _Scorching ray_ was a nice spell to have added to his repertoire but sometimes it was best to stick with the classics.

A quick check of the bugbears' bodies revealed they carried nothing on them but their own weapons and armor.  However, curiosity compelled Thurloe to pull the flat stone with the writing on it - the characters were in the Goblin tongue, although he couldn't read what it said - and saw a short, vertical shaft leading down to a small chamber where the bandaged body of another bugbear-sized figure had been laid to rest.  However, the wrappings had been cut away at the corpse's neck, no doubt to have gained the tomb desecrator access to whatever amulet or necklace had been buried with the body.

"What's that all about?" Alewyth asked.

"I got a feeling our bald guy there's been robbing bugbear tombs," Thurloe answered.  "These two have probably been tracking him and just assumed we were in with him when they showed up and found us here with him."  He dropped the heavy stone back into place at the top of the vertical shaft, sealing up the burial site of the bugbear entombed below.

Xandro had been checking out the body of Manu and found the key to the manacles on a thin chain around the druid's neck.  Thurloe investigated the druid's tent and found a bunch of fruit, which he carefully fed to the bound dire ape - who was hungry enough to be fed by a stranger.  Then, having established he was a friend - or at least not an enemy - Thurloe took the key and unlocked the manacles around the dire ape's ankles.

"There's a 50-gold-piece bounty on the big guy," Zander pointed out.

"Yeah, but he's just a dumb animal," Thurloe countered.  "He wouldn't have fought us in the city like he did if baldy here hadn't made him."  He released one of the dire ape's wrists from the manacle, ready to jump back out of range if the simian took advantage of his near-freedom to attack the fighter.   But when he failed to do so, merely held out his manacled other hand, Thurloe approached, unlocked it, and stepped away.  The dire ape got on all fours, rubbed each wrist in turn, and then knuckle-walked away.

"And it's not like we're in desperate need of the 50 gold, either," Thurloe observed.  "We're already getting 100 pieces for the druid."

"We should probably heal him," Wakuren offered.

"Nope," Thurloe insisted.  "He brought all of this on himself.  And since he's a druid, we'll let nature decide if he lives or dies."  He scooped up the unconscious figure and transferred him to one shoulder.  "You guys lead on: I'll take the rear.  I don't want any of you healing him when I'm not looking."

And thus, half an hour later, the five heroes returned to Baron's Haven with the corpse of Manu the Awakener.

 - - -

This was a rather lengthy session, going almost five hours.  I used a King Kong figure I picked up recently (when _Godzilla vs. Kong_ was in the theaters) for the dream ape in Carmen Melodius's dream.  And the second dream caused Joe (Zander's player) to speculate that if there was a Queen of Dreams, there might also be a King of Nightmares as well.  (An interesting premise, even more interesting in that I already have a "King of Nightmares" initiative card in my inventory for use in an upcoming adventure....)  And I had a blast with those awakened monkeys at the end, doing my best howler monkey imitation at full volume to those whose PCs had been targeted by them.

 - - -

T-shirt worn: Lacking any shirts with monkeys on them, I wore a "Spider-Man" T-shirt to represent the spider swarm Manu the Awakener cast inside the city to help try to escape his attackers.


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## Richards (Oct 22, 2021)

*ADVENTURE 19: DREGS*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 4​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 1​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 2/paladin 2​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 4​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 4​
Game Session Date: 16 October 2021

 - - -

It was noon in the Merry Minstrel Inn and the five adventurers were enjoying a hot meal.  Jorbalee Bennicut, the innkeeper herself, was bringing another basket of rolls to the table when she saw a young boy of perhaps eight summers enter the dining area of the inn and approach her guests' table.

"Are you the people who can wake people up who won't wake up by themselves?" he asked, tugging on Xandro's sleeve.  The bard couldn't help but notice the boy's eyes kept darting to the food on the table before them.

"Yeah, that's right," he said, handing a roll over to the boy, who grabbed it up and started eating it at once.  It was apparent he hadn't eaten in a while and the state of his raggedy clothes hinted at a life at or below the poverty level.  "Do you know of someone who needs help waking up?"

"My mom," replied the boy between bites of the roll.  "She fell asleep two days ago and I can't wake her up."

"What's your name, honey?" asked Alewyth.

"*Tommy*."

"Well, why don't you come sit over here by me and have some lunch, and then we'll go see about waking up your mom, okay?"  That sounded like a great idea to Tommy, who climbed up on the bench beside the dwarven priestess and grabbed up a slice of cheese.  He ate remarkably well for someone his age and asked Alewyth if it would be okay of he brought some food back for his mom.  The dwarf pulled out a handkerchief and helped him wrap up a nice lunch for Tommy's mom.  Then, after paying Jorbalee for the meal and promising to be back in time for dinnertime - during which Xandro would be providing the entertainment with his lute and his songs - they let Tommy lead them back to where he and his mother, *Greta*, lived.

This turned out to be in the poorer section of town, where the good buildings were made of thin wood and the less sturdy were little more than patchwork tents.  Grubby faces stared out at the heroes as they walked beside Tommy; they got the idea the local inhabitants didn't often see anyone with such fine clothing and equipment wandering around in the low section of town.  Thurloe stared belligerently at the curious locals, daring them to try anything.  Xandro kept a smile on his face so as not to look threatening but made sure his hand was close to the hilt of his rapier, just in case.

Eventually, Tommy led them to his home, a one-room structure of wooden struts, canvas walls, and a roof of thatch.  "She's in there," he said, pointing to a thin blanket hanging from a rope strung across the room to form a makeshift wall.  Thurloe couldn't help noticing the landfill next door, where all sorts of accumulated refuse had been tossed.  Hell of a place to grow up, he thought to himself, but that didn't stop him from giving the place a good once-over to make sure this kid wasn't leading them into an ambush.

Wakuren moved aside the hanging sheet serving as a front door and likewise pushed the hanging blanket aside so he could see to Greta.  She was lying motionless on a pile of rags in the corner which apparently served as her bed.  In the dark of the room (once the blanket fell back into place) Wakuren knelt beside her and placed a hand on her forehead.  He was immediately aware of several things: she was cold to the touch, had apparently been dead for two days, and yet occasionally twitched slightly.  He imagined this slight movement had convinced Tommy that his mother was still alive.

"Keep Tommy away from here for now!" Wakuren called to the others and Thurloe dropped a hand on the boy's shoulder and led him off to the side of the hovel.  None of the others knew the specifics but the worried tone in the half-orc's voice caused Zander to cast a _mage armor_ spell upon himself and Alewyth to cast a _bless_ spell on the group, each of them anticipating the possibility of combat.

"What are you doing?" Xandro hissed to the two spellcasters.  "You're going to be seen!"  Belatedly, Zander and Alewyth recalled the prohibition against casting spells within the city of Baron's Haven and guiltily looked around to see if anyone had seen them.  Xandro, in the meantime, took out his lute and started the tune that inspired courage.

"Is everything okay?" Tommy asked Thurloe.

"It's going to be," promised Thurloe, "one way or the other."

Inside the building, Greta suddenly lurched upright to a sitting position, her glazed eyes focusing on Wakuren as she pulled herself to a standing position.  Then, lurching and staggering as if in a drunken stupor, she slowly headed his way, an arm reaching out to the half-orc as if pleading for contact.  Wakuren stepped back, holding forth his holy symbol of Cal and channeling a blast of positive energy through it, hoping to turn the zombie away.  Surprisingly, it had no effect, as Greta stepped forward and slammed a stiff arm against the half-orc's armored chest.

Zander could see a little of what was going on inside the hovel through the gaps between the doorway and the sheet hanging in it, enough to determine it might not be a bad idea to activate his _figurine of wondrous power_.  Pulling the statuette from a belt pouch and dropping it to the ground, an elven dog sprang up in its place.  The cooshee needed no urging or instruction; it stuck its head into the doorway of the hovel, intrigued by the scent of dead flesh.  He bit at Greta's leg as she stumbled by but the woman didn't even seem to notice.

Alewyth stepped past the hanging curtain, saw the zombie attacking Wakuren, and brought her dwarven warhammer _Sjondra_ swinging into Greta's side.  And then, to everyone's surprise, a form burst out of Greta's chest, dark and wet and aimed in Wakuren's direction.  The half-orc bleated in terror and bashed the giant worm aside; it dropped to the ground and he slammed the edge of his shield down upon the dregworm, crushing it to death.

Tommy was getting worried about all of the screaming and yelling inside his house.  "Tell you what," said Thurloe, pulling a silver coin out of a pouch at his belt.  "Why don't you take this and go buy some garlic from that marketplace we passed, okay?  We'll need it to go help your mom wake up."  Glad to have something to do to help his mother, Tommy grabbed up the silver piece and sprinted off.

Greta, now with a gaping hole in her chest, swung a feeble arm at Wakuren but failed to connect; the sudden movement almost sent her crashing to the floor.  But then another dregworm came leaping out of the hole to slam against Wakuren's shield, while a separate hole burst open in Greta's side and a third dregworm leaped out at the cooshee.  Zander, not worrying at all if anybody was watching, cast a _magic missile_ spell at the slime-coated worm biting at his elven dog, and the cooshee finished the dregworm off with a snap of his teeth.

Alwyth swung _Sjondra_ at the shambling corpse and Greta sprawled in a heap onto the floor of the hovel, still as dead as she had been but now no longer moving.  Wakuren crushed the last remaining dregworm with the edge of his shield and then looked over at Greta to see if any more would crawl out of her body.  It didn't seem like there were any left.

"Where's Tommy?" Alewyth asked, stepping back out of the dwelling.  After Thurloe told her of his ploy with the garlic purchase, she grimaced and asked, "What are we going to tell him when he returns?"

"How about, 'Sorry kid - your mom's dead.  Let's go check out the orphanages,'" Thurloe suggested, which got him a lot of "What's wrong with you?" looks.

When Tommy returned with the garlic, Alewyth took him aside and said, "We weren't able to wake up your mom just yet, sweetie.  We're going to still try a few things, but do you have any relatives you can stay with in the meantime?"  Tommy thought it over and revealed he had an *Uncle Willick*, his mom's brother.  "But we don't see him very much.  I don't think he and Mom get along."

"Do you know where he lives?" Alewyth prompted.

"I know where he works: in the temple."

That gave Alewyth a little bit of hope.  "Which temple?" she asked.

"The one with the lady."  Tommy wasn't able to elaborate any further, but he said he could take them to where his Uncle Willick worked.  Alewyth wondered whether it might be the temple of Delphyne, Goddess of Magic, or maybe that of Feron, Goddess of Nature.  Either one would be a good environment for a young orphan to be raised in, she mused.  And in any case, she'd find out soon enough when they got there.

But they didn't head over to the Godswalk, where the majority of the temples and shrines were to be found in Baron's Haven.  Instead, Tommy led them to a run-down brick building in the low part of town.  "There's Uncle Willick!" he said, pointing to a fat-bellied man standing outside the building.

"You wait here," suggested Wakuren, walking up to Willick.  Thurloe decided he didn't want to miss out on this and went with the half-orc.

"Are you Willick, brother of Greta?" asked Wakuren.

"Yeah, maybe," answered the heavyset man.  Wakuren noted he had about three days' growth of beard on his face and smelled heavily of alcohol, despite the early hour.  "Who wants to know?"

Wakuren introduced himself and Thurloe and pointed over to Tommy, waiting by the others across the street.  "I'm afraid your sister is dead," Wakuren said.  "Dregworms - there were probably a few eggs in something she ate.  In any case, I assume Tommy's father is no longer around?"

"Died years ago," confirmed Willick.  Then sudden realization dawned on him.  "Wait -- you're not trying to pawn the kid off on me, are you?"

"I understand you might be his only living relative," Wakuren pointed out.

Willick scratched his stubbly beard as he thought aloud.  "Well...yeah, I suppose I could use him here at the temple.  I reckon he's old enough to stop shirkin' and start workin'.  Yeah, okay, I guess I can make this work."

Wakuren's eyes narrowed.  "This...is your temple?  Here?" he asked.

"Sure," Willick replied.  "We gotta tend to the needs of them what don't got lots of coin.  Best way to do that's to serve 'em where they live."  At this observation, Thurloe left the others behind and approached the shabby brick building.  There was no door on the front face of the structure; he found the sole entrance at the back end of a narrow alley, between it and the neighboring building.  There was no writing on the door, merely the silhouette of a well-endowed woman, which Thurloe recognized as the holy symbol of Desdemona, Goddess of Fertility.

Stepping into the building, Thurloe was met by a dark-haired woman in well-worn clothes that were somewhat fashionable years ago, standing behind a wooden counter.  The dim lighting in the room was provided by a pair of red-glass lanterns.  "Welcome to the Temple of Desdemona," *Maria Cuescu* greeted the fighter.  "Have you come to perform a sacrament in the name of the Lady?"

"I'm here to warn you that a relative of one of your workers was just killed by dregworms," Thurloe answered.  "Any of your employees feeling sick or anything?"

"All of our priestesses are clean," Maria replied, brows furrowed in irritation.

"They all willing?" Thurloe pressed.

"I don't think I like your attitude," Maria answered, giving a shrill whistle between her teeth.  A pair of hanging curtains parted in the wall behind her and a pair of hungry-looking dogs slinked out into the reception room.  "If you're not here to receive the Lady's blessing, I suggest you go elsewhere to stir up trouble."

Thurloe gave her a sarcastic salute and left the way he'd come, wondering what kind of legitimate house of worship kept their guard dogs underfed to increase their aggressiveness.  He returned to Wakuren and Willick.  "Place is a whorehouse," he announced without preamble.

"It's a legitimate temple of worship, providing a much-needed service--" sputtered Willick.

"We're not interested in hearing your excuses," Wakuren interrupted him.  "The boy's not coming to work for you.  He'd be better off in an orphanage."

"He's my own flesh and blood," Willick argued.  "_I'll _ decide what's best for him."

"You're not pimping out an eight-year-old boy!" snarled Wakuren, his orcish nature getting the better of him despite his best efforts to remain calm.  Then he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and slowly counted to three.  "All right," he said.  "We'll buy him from you.  You get a sum of cash up front, and he gets to go on to live a better life than the one you can provide for him."

"I dunno," Thurloe said.  "This chump's likely to take your money and then hunt Tommy down anyway."

"There ain't a place in this city I can't get to," promised Willick.  "And I got connections - I'll find him if I want to."  Then he rubbed his bristly chin again.  "But out of curiosity, how much money are we talking?"

Wakuren suddenly strolled away from the two men, walking up to the building, seeming to give the bricks a close inspection.  But it wasn't the bricks he was concentrating upon: it was the emanations of evil he was picking up from the other side of the bricks - three separate ones, in fact.  He'd already determined Willick's own aura reeked of evil and if anything it was the strongest of the four, although that may have simply been because Wakuren was able to get closer to the man without any intervening walls in the way.

When Wakuren returned, he'd made up his mind.  "Okay," he said.  "I think we can come to an arrangement.  Let's all go inside and work out the details."  He motioned for the others to accompany him.  Seeing this, Zander pulled out a copper penny from his pocket and gave it to Tommy.  "We have to talk with your uncle inside, okay?  I'll pay you this coin to stay out here and watch over my dog."  In reality, the elf knew it was the other way around: his cooshee would be watching over Tommy to make sure nothing happened to him.

"Okay," Tommy agreed, snatching up the coin before the sorcerer could change his mind.  "What's his name?"

"I'm still working on that," Zander admitted.  "Maybe you can help me come up with a good one."

Alewyth and Xandro were already walking down the narrow alleyway with Willick, Thurloe, and Wakuren; Zander hurried to catch up.  Thinking he had a pretty good idea what Wakuren had planned, Thurloe surreptitiously cast a _shield_ spell while in the alleyway, feeling pretty sure nobody would be able to see him do so.

Once everybody had made it inside the crowded reception area, Wakuren made a quick demand.  "I want any 'priestesses' not here of their own free will released immediately," he said.

Maria Cuescu took exception to that.  "What gives you the right to just barge in here--" she sputtered, then cut herself off short when Wakuren wheeled on her and bared his teeth.  He was _not_ in the mood for any arguments.  Cowed, the temple's "house matron" closed her mouth and instead reached down below the counter for something.  Wakuren half expected she'd bring out a weapon of some sort and was somewhat curious as to what she thought she could do to him, but to his surprise all she held in her hand was a metal bell.  "You'll be sorry, you self-righteous, half-breed bastard!" she sneered, clanging the bell back and forth for all she was worth.

That was apparently an alarm signal, for the door in the back of the room burst open and a pair of burly dwarves stepped up, each clad in studded leather armor and wielding a heavy mace.  This was no doubt the "temple's" security force, ensuring the clients didn't sneak off without paying and the "priestesses" didn't try escaping their employment.  "Kill them!" demanded Maria and the dwarves just grinned, having been given permission to do their favorite part of their job.  Wakuren was not in the least bit surprised to see the dwarves were responsible for two of the auras of evil he'd sensed in the building; more surprising was the fact that Maria's aura barely held any taint of evil - she no doubt believed she was truly taking care of those who worked in her temple and protecting them from intruding interlopers.

Safely inside the building with no witnesses they intended to let live, Zander Quilson felt it safe enough to cast a _scorching ray_ across the room to strike Willick.  The pervy lech already had his short sword out and was stabbing it at Thurloe, but the fighter had his bastard sword unsheathed and deflected the smaller blade away from him.  A furious growling presaged the appearance of the guard dogs from their curtained cubbyhole, but Xandro's magic longsword - taken from the Tannenheim crypt - stabbed at the first canine to poke his head out.  Alewyth likewise felt it safe enough for spellcasting and threw a _cause fear_ spell at Maria Cuescu, but the house matron shrugged off the worst of the spell's effects.  Still, possibly out of a sense of self-preservation, she backed out of the reception room through the door to her own private room and pulled the door shut behind her.  The sound of latching made it fairly obvious she was locking herself in where she hoped it would be safe while her security forces dealt with this threat to her temple.

Thurloe slashed his blade along Willick's arm, slicing through the man's leather armor and the flesh and muscle of his upper bicep.  Willick cursed aloud, making quite specific observations about Thurloe's likely ancestry.  The first dog dashed forward and clamped its jaws around Wakuren's leg, trying to topple the half-orc, while the other one maneuvered to get out of their small living area, given as how Willick was blocking the way.  But as Wakuren was the closest to the back door, he was also the target of both dwarven guards, and while he caught one heavy mace with his shield the other one got past his defenses and went crashing into the side of the half-orc's armor.  Shaking his foot to free it from the guard dog's mouth, Wakuren sent his shield slamming into the face of one of the dwarves.

It being fairly crowded in the reception area, Zander scrambled up onto the counter and over to the other side, where he was nicely lined up to send a _scorching ray_ spell straight at the dwarven guard who had hit Wakuren.  The guard cursed aloud as his beard was set ablaze, but then Alewyth sent a _spiritual weapon_ spell his way and the floating warhammer put the flaming dwarf out of his misery.  Willick stabbed at Thurloe with his short sword but was then immediately downed, the victim of Thurloe's bastard sword.

Xandro's longsword came slashing down and slew the first of the guard dogs.  The other rushed out of its chamber and snapped at Wakuren but failed to catch the half-orc's leg between its jaws.  The other dwarf managed to connect with his heavy mace, sending Wakuren reeling from the force of the blow.  But then he shook it off and gave back as good as he had taken, slamming his shield into the side of the dwarf's head.

Zander tried opening Matron Maria Cuescu's door but it was firmly locked.  Hoping there weren't any other exits from the room she was in, he tossed a tanglefoot bag at the door, gumming it up and with any luck preventing her from being able to open it back up.  That, he figured, ought to keep her out of the picture while the heroes dealt with what remained of her security forces.

Xandro tried stabbing the remaining dog but it dodged the point of the bard's blade, growling at the attempt.  Instead, it noticed Zander Quilson with his back turned, messing about with the Matron's door.  That looked like a much easier target for the vicious dog so he started heading towards the elf - but was then cut down by Xandro's blade, it having been a foolish tactic to give the bard a chance to strike.

Alewyth redirected her _spiritual warhammer_ at the other dwarven guard, who was still concentrating his attacks on Wakuren.  She pushed her way to the back of the room with _Sjondra_ in hand, eager to join in the melee herself if possible.  But with Willick now dead, Thurloe was able to turn his attention on the remaining dwarven guard as well and the look in the burly bouncer's eyes said he didn't particularly like the way the odds were turning against him.  But he swore to Thunderwolf, God of Battle, that he'd go down fighting if that was His will and he swung another blow at Wakuren's head; the half-orc just barely blocked the swing with his shield in time.

And then all of a sudden the dwarf had a combat partner at his side, appearing out of thin air!  This was a thick-bodied snake, easily 12 or 15 feet long, with reddish-black scales and a pair of small horns at the top of its eyes.  The fiendish constrictor darted out at Wakuren but the half-orc dodged the strike at the last moment.  He in turn kept his focus on the dwarf, preferring to concentrate on the already-wounded foe before turning his attention to a creature who had to have just been summoned via a spell and thus whose presence had a definite time limit, depending upon the spellcasting power of the person who had summoned it forth - presumably the other source of evil Wakuren had detected from outside the building.  With his paladin training he could detect the aura of evil emanating from the serpent; with his nose, he could detect the sulfurous stench coming off the snake's body.

But Wakuren didn't need to worry about the dwarven fighter for too much longer for a _magic missile_ spell from Zander brought him down, allowing Wakuren to turn his attention to the fiendish serpent.  Hoping the snake didn't have a means of detecting him, he activated his _ring of invisibility_ and vanished from view.

Seeing how crowded it was in the back of the reception area, Xandro opted to sheathe his longsword and pull the lute from his back.  He began the initial chords of his most common fighting tune, the one that magically inspired his compatriots to greater acts of courage in combat, deeming it the best way for him to contribute to the current fight.  Alewyth sent her _spiritual warhammer_ over to swing at the fiendish constrictor, then stepped up to mirror its actions with her own weapon.  But it was Thurloe who landed the killing blow, slicing its head from its body with a side-swipe of his bastard sword's blade.  Upon its decapitation, both head and body dissolved into stinking mist and dissipated; Thurloe wasn't thrilled by the smell but wished all of the bodies of those he slew cleaned up after themselves in so efficient a manner.

Thurloe crossed the hallway beyond the guards' station and positioned himself on the far side of the door, the logical place for an allied temple spellcaster to have cast the _summon monster_ spell that brought the serpent across the myriad planes and into existence here.  He held his sword at the ready, waiting to bring its blade down upon anyone stepping out of the room.  Wakuren stepped closer, making sure not to get in Thurloe's way, as he was quite aware the fighter couldn't see him in his present state.  Zander stepped through the doorway from the guards' station and readied a thunderstone for throwing, hoping to take out the spellcaster's ability to cast spells if he couldn't accurately hear himself speak.  Xandro continued playing his tune of inspirational courage, well aware this fight was not yet over.

Inside the bedroom, *Lenulus* had taken the time to prepare himself for combat, casting _magic circle against law_ and _shield of faith_ spells upon himself and readying his few combat spells as needed.  But Alewyth opted to put her _spiritual warhammer_ to good use before its duration expired and had it smash against the locked door.  Once it winked out, she completed the job with _Sjondra_, stepping through the remains of the shattered door.  There wasn't much to the room: a bed, a wooden chest, and a silver mirror and holy symbol of Desdemona hanging on the wall.  But standing there in the back corner was the spellcaster they'd been seeking, wearing nothing more protective than woolen robes.

Thurloe rushed inside with his bastard sword swinging, catching Lenulus as he tried stepping to the side to avoid the blade.  Zander's thrown thunderstone exploded by the cleric's head but he managed to avoid being deafened more by simple luck than anything else.  But then he cast the spell he'd had prepared, sending Thurloe jolting as if struck as the _hold person_ spell took effect (but not before the fighter was able to slash at the cleric again as he cast the spell).  Lenulus then used Thurloe as a human shield, hiding behind him as he readied his next attack spell.

However, Lenulus hadn't counted on an invisible half-orc cleric-paladin and Wakuren's shield slammed into the cleric's side as both he and his defensive weapon returned to visibility concurrent with the attack.  Zander cast a _scorching ray_ from outside in the hallway, and that was the end of Lenulus.  But he died with his greatest secret intact, for none of the heroes bothered disturbing the holy symbol of Desdemona hanging on the wall of his room; had they examined it, they'd have found an unholy symbol of Gareth, God of Betrayal on the other side.

A quick search through his room revealed a minimal amount of coins; what little Lenulus had was added to the silver pieces they took from the bodies of the slain dwarves and given to the six unwilling "priestesses" of the temple of Desdemona, who were each offered the opportunity to leave the temple if they wished to do so and to a woman they took the heroes up on the offer.

"What are we going to do about the woman who ran this joint?" asked Zander now that the security forces had been dealt with and the six young women freed.

"She's not evil," pointed out Wakuren.  "A little twisted, perhaps, but not evil - not yet, in any case."  Eventually, they decided to leave her where she was, trapped in her room by dint of the hardened tanglefoot goo sealing her door shut; she'd either work her way out or maybe be rescued by the clients who normally attended this "temple" - and her fate, after they found out there were no "priestesses" on hand any more, would be left in their hands.  Given the treatment she'd provided to her imprisoned "priestesses" - and her half-starved dogs - none of the heroes gave any further thought to her predicament.

Leaving the "temple," the group caught up with the cooshee, who was heavily invested in a stirring game of "fetch the stick that Tommy throws and bring it back to him" - and judging from the elven dog's wagging tail and the smile plastered on the boy's face, it would be difficult to decide which of the two was enjoying the game more.  "Let's go," Thurloe said in his usually brusque manner.

"Where to?" asked Tommy.  "I thought I was going to stay with Uncle Willick until you can wake up my mom."

"Yeah, about that--" Thurloe began but Alewyth cut him off before he could spill the beans on either front.

"We're going back to the inn where we got the food," the dwarven priestess said.  "I think we can get Jorbalee - the nice lady who brought the meal to our table - to let you stay with her until we get everything figured out."  She glared at Thurloe, mentally warning him not to tell Tommy about the deaths of his mother or uncle until they could find a way to do so gently.  Thurloe just raised his hands in surrender and let the soft-hearted dwarf have it her way.  Sheesh!  The mollycoddling Alewyth could perform was almost nauseating!  Hell, Thurloe's parents had been killed when he was little and he grew up just fine; he didn't see why telling the kid the news straight out was such a bad thing.  But he let the dwarf do it her way.

 - - -

It looks like I can add dregworms to the list of monsters my players absolutely loathe (along with the boneless from the adventure "No Bones About It" and the grave medusa from "Down Among the Dead Men").  And now that Willick's not around any more to bother Tommy, he'll be left with Jorbalee to be raised; the elderly widow was more than happy to take in an eight-year-old apprentice, since she and her late husband had never had any children of their own.

 - - -

T-shirt worn: My white "Walking Dead" T-shirt, to represent Greta, whose dead body was being piloted by the dregworms.


----------



## Richards (Oct 24, 2021)

*ADVENTURE 20: THE MISSING DREAMER (PART 1)*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 4​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 1​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 2/paladin 2​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 4​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 4​
Game Session Date: 16 October 2021

 - - -

"I think you'll be pleased with the way they turned out," said *Iriadorrista*, the elven gemcutter selected by the group to perform the necessary carving that turned the solid dreamstone they'd taken from the hilt of the longsword buried with Lord Tannenheim in his crypt into the smaller pieces needed to upgrade the heroes' signature items.  "If you have the selected items with you, I can get them mounted properly," she added with a smile.

Wakuren smiled back at the young-looking elf, wishing he wasn't as fearsome-looking as he knew he was to most people.  But whether through not wanting to insult a paying customer or simply due to an overall pleasant demeanor, the lovely elf didn't seem at all disturbed by having a half-orc in full armor in her shop.  At her request, he handed over his shield and watched as she attached a narrow sliver of carved dreamstone, oval in shape but pointed at top and bottom, to the upper part of its front surface.  "It won't get jostled off?" he asked warily.

"_Sovereign glue_," explained Iriadorrista.  "It'll take much more than a weapon strike to dislodge it."

In turn, the elven gemsmith attached all of the smaller dreamstone pieces she'd carved from the larger whole into the items as had been directed by the Queen of Dreams.  Zander Quilson's _figurine of wondrous power_, a _jade cooshee_, had a pair of tiny dreamstone eyes glued into place.  A round dreamstone was attached to either side of Alewyth's warhammer _Sjondra_, on the longer sides where they wouldn't interfere with the business ends of the weapon.  Thurloe's bastard sword_ Spellslicer_ received a dreamstone along the bottom of the blade, right above the cross guards.  And a final dreamstone, cut into the shape of an oval, was mounted at the bottom of Xandro's lute, just below the strings.  Well and truly satisfied with the work that had been done, the heroes happily paid over the money they owed Iriadorrista and the elf said she hoped they'd keep her in mind if they ever had any similar gemcutting needs.  That had been the last of the day's purchases, for earlier that morning they'd swung by the Temples of Delphyne and Cal and picked up the wands Thurloe and Wakuren had ordered three days ago, a _wand of magic missile_ for the neophyte wizard and a _wand of cure light wounds_ for the half-orc cleric-paladin.

As they exited Iriadorrista's shop, Thurloe almost collided with a man in a hooded robe headed his way.  He looked at the group - two humans, a dwarf, an elf, and a half-orc - and nodded to himself as if he'd found the right group.  But just to be sure, he asked them, "Excuse me, but are you the dream-wakers?"

"Never heard that exact term before," admitted Thurloe with a smirk, "but yeah, we're them.  Why?  You got somebody needs waking?"

"Yes, yes we do!" the hooded man exclaimed with relief in his voice.  "The head of our temple had heard of your exploits and asked me to find you and bring you back with me.  We've had a visitor collapse into sleep and we cannot awaken him."

"Which temple is this?" asked Alewyth.  She wouldn't be thrilled to find herself entering another Temple of Desdemona anytime soon.

"The Temple of Akari," the man replied, leading the way and making sure the others were following.  The group had worked with the Temple of Akari back in Port Duralia, where they'd overseen the return to life of a member of the minor nobility.  Their leader had been a rather impressive sort: "Father Bones," a walking, talking skeleton of a type they called a "lich," as was perfectly reasonable given Akari was the God of Death and Undeath.  He wore a distinctive black top hat as a badge of office.

"So what can you tell us about this dreamer?" asked Thurloe as they headed over to the Godswalk, where the majority of the city's shrines and temples were located.  "He a regular in your temple?"

"No, quite the opposite: he'd come in once or twice in the past week, but before that we hadn't seen him before.  And he never came in during the normal services, just sat himself in a pew and prayed quietly to himself."  The Akari cleric provided a description of the man, although he was fairly nondescript: light hair, gray eyes, average build, wearing dark clothes and a hooded cloak.

When they got to the Temple of Akari the cleric led them straight through the chapel and into the rooms in the back.  There was an office area off to the left at the back of the building and sitting behind the larger of the two desks was none other than Father Bones himself.  "What are you doing here?" sputtered Alewyth despite herself.

"My child, I am the head of this temple," Father Bones replied.  Then he realized her confusion.  "You have met another Father Bones elsewhere, haven't you?"

"In Port Duralia," the dwarven priestess replied.

"'Father Bones' is a title bestowed upon the head cleric of the God of Death and Undeath," the skeletal being explained.  "Every major temple of Akari will have its own Father Bones.  But thank you for coming."  He stood up from his desk.  "We took the sleeping parishioner downstairs so he'd be out of the way.  If you'd like to follow me?"

Father Bones led the group through a back door and down a set of winding stairs leading to a level beneath the temple.  Wakuren couldn't help himself; while it would have been rude to try to _detect evil_ in the presence of Father Bones in his office, the half-orc cleric-paladin felt more comfortable doing so when the lich's back was turned.  As he'd hoped, there was no telltale taint of evil in the head cleric's aura; Wakuren had heard there were good liches as well as those turned to the ways of evil and was pleased this Father Bones was of the former persuasion.

"He's in here," Father Bones said, stepping into the church's morgue.  There were four wheeled gurneys in the room, all of them empty.  "What?" gasped Father Bones.  "Where did he go?"

The others piled into the room.  "He was there, on that slab," Father Bones said, pointing to the gurney in the far corner.  "I saw him myself not half an hour ago!"

"Are you certain he was asleep?" asked Zander.  "Maybe he just woke up."

"He was fast asleep, and we tried everything from _remove paralysis_ to _neutralize poison_ to _heal_ - all with no success."

"Where did you first find him?" asked Thurloe.

"Upstairs, asleep in one of the pews," replied Father Bones.  He turned to the cleric who had brought the "dream-wakers" here to the Temple of Akari.  "Go back upstairs and see if anyone saw him back awake - and have the brothers search the temple for him."  Turning back to the five adventurers, there was an apologetic tone in his voice - Alewyth got the idea he'd be blushing if he'd had any skin on his skull.  "I'm terribly sorry about this," he apologized.  "I didn't mean to bring you here for nothing."

"Let's look around," suggested Thurloe, looking tellingly at Alewyth and Zander.  As a dwarf, Alewyth Putterpye had a preternatural understanding of stone construction and would have a pretty good chance of finding out if the stone walls in the room held any secret passages.  And with his keen elven senses, Zander Quilson was also their best bet at discovering any hidden doors in the area - although it was unlikely the room held any hidden passageways unknown to the head of the temple.  They found nothing and expanded their search out into the hallway.

"Found something," Alewyth called out at the bottom of the spiral steps.

"Hidden door?" guessed Thurloe.

"Blob of something," Alewyth replied, lifting a dab of something white she'd picked up with her finger.  Holding it up close, she grimaced.  "It's bat guano!" she complained, wiping it back on the edge of the step where she'd found it.

That got Thurloe thinking.  "I think bat guano's used in casting the _fireball_ spell," he said, recalling what he'd read in Mistress Jandoval's beginner's book of spells.

"So what are you thinking, that a wizard came in here and stole the sleeping guy?" asked Xandro.

"It's possible," Thurloe replied.

"It's also possible the wizard has a bat familiar who took a dump on the stairs," added Zander.  "That makes more sense than him dropping the spell component to a _fireball_ spell - which he'd have no need of casting in here."

"Nonetheless, it suggests an intruder was present in our temple," said Father Bones.  "I will cast a _commune_ spell and see what I can find out."  As the casting time for that spell took a good ten minutes, the others had plenty of time to talk among themselves and come up with ten good questions they wanted answered, ten questions being the limit to Father Bones' spellcasting abilities.  During that time, the results of the search throughout the temple came back negative: the missing dreamer was not anywhere within the confines of the building, on either of its two levels.

Casting the _commune_ spell was kind of creepy in any case, Alewyth and Wakuren knew, for during the spellcasting the cleric asked his questions and then another entity took temporary control over his body and answered using his own voice.  The creepiness factor only intensified when the caster was already an animated skeleton wearing a black robe and a tall, black top hat with a pair of crossed bones on the silk ribbon along its brim.

"Was the sleeper really asleep?" asked Father Bones, reciting the first of his questions.  Then he answered himself in a much deeper, booming voice: "YES."  Xandro jotted the answer down on a piece of parchment he'd prepared to record the results of the spell interrogation.

"Was the sleeper affected by the dream sickness?" Father Bones asked next, as it was possible he'd just been in some other type of heavy sleep from which waking him was difficult.  There was a moment's pause, and then the answer, "YES."

"Is the missing dreamer currently awake?"  Again, there was a moment's pause and then Father Bones answered "NO."  Xandro jotted down the answer as the head cleric asked his next question.

"Is the missing dreamer within the city of Baron's Haven?"  If this had been a simple kidnapping, there was every chance he was still here within the city, given the limited time the kidnapper would have had to work.  "NO."  Well, that meant there was probably some kind of magic at work - and in a city where unauthorized spellcasting was prohibited.

"Is the missing dreamer still on the Material Plane?"  If extraplanar travel were at play here, it would be very difficult to track the hapless dreamer.  "YES."  That made it somewhat easier.

"Was the missing dreamer forcibly removed from the Temple of Akari?"  This was a logical assumption, but it was always a good idea to confirm one's initial beliefs.  "YES."

There were four questions remaining to the spell.  "Was the missing dreamer taken for nefarious reasons?"  Again, it was likely that he had been but it was nice to confirm.  "YES."

The next question was a follow-on from the third, which had confirmed the dreamer was no longer asleep, and it had particularly importance to Father Bones.  "Is the missing dreamer still alive?"  Alewyth found herself leaning forward in anticipation of the answer.  "YES."  Well, that was a relief!

"Was the missing dreamer taken by a living being?"  If they were up against the undead, that would be worth noting.  "YES."

For the final question, Father Bones asked, "Did the missing dreamer and the one who took him _teleport_ out of the temple?"  After a pause, he answered in the deeper, foreign voice, "NO."  The head cleric's skull slumped in weariness as the spell finished, as if it had taken a toll on him.

Xandro read back the questions and answers to the others.  "Now what?" asked Alewyth.

"Now we go see if anybody in the local area saw anyone walking out of the temple with a sleeping figure over their shoulder," suggested Xandro.  It helped that the Temple of Akari had but the sole entrance, leading out onto the Godswalk.  And sure enough, they hit pay dirt almost immediately, for across the street sat a homeless man in the shade in the span between two buildings.

"Yeah, I seen a guy carrying another guy out of the temple," replied *Gilfrey*.  "I seen where he took him, too.  What's it worth to you?"

Zander sighed and pulled out a gold coin.  "Uh uh uh," Gilfrey replied, shaking a finger at the elf.  "You pay me in coins, I get robbed before I can use 'em.  Tell you what: I got a craving for some meat.  You go take that coin and buy me a pair of chicken legs, and I'll tell you what I know."

"I'll do it," offered Alewyth.  Gilfrey gave her directions to a local vendor who sold chicken from a hand cart a few blocks away.  When she returned, she had four chicken legs wrapped in a cloth.  She handed a pair over to Gilfrey, who gobbled them up as if his life depended on them.  And he ate his way down to the bone of each chicken leg, not letting a scrap of edible matter go to waste.  Then he wrapped the bones up in a dirty handkerchief and stuffed them in his pocket.

"Okay, then," Gilfrey said, his meal completed.  He pointed down the street.  "The guy took the other guy there into the Shrine of Delphyne.  And there ain't but the one way in or out of the shrine and I haven't seen 'em come back out, so they're still in there, far as I can tell."  He gave them a quick description of the man who had been carrying the missing dreamer - dark hair and beard, black clothes with silver skull symbols on his shoulders and knees, dark cloak - and then the group was off towards the Shrine of Delphyne, Alewyth lagging behind just long enough to pass over the other two chicken legs.  "You've been very helpful," she told Gilfrey.

The Shrine of Delphyne was fairly small - square, only about ten feet to a side, but two stories high due to the black marble statue of Delphyne in the back of the building.  The Goddess of Magic was on her knees before a _magic circle_ inscribed on the floor before her, with a staff in one hand.  The statue was about 15 feet tall and floating around in the air before her were several _driftglobes_, providing illumination as they flitted about (out of range of any would-be thieves).  The entire shrine was just one big room with a single open doorway providing access, and it was empty.

"There's nobody here," said Zander, pointing out the obvious.

"Maybe they _teleported_ away," suggested Xandro.  "All we know from the _commune_ spell is that they didn't _teleport_ from the Temple of Akari."

Wakuren stepped inside the _magic circle_ to see if it would _teleport_ him somewhere, with no luck.  Perhaps it needed a command word or phrase?  "Teleport," he tried.  "Delphyne.  Magic."  He tried another couple of words but quickly realized he was grasping at straws.

"Found something!" Alewyth said, examining the back wall of the shrine.  "There's a secret passage here - you can see the seam where this wall opens!"  However, try as she might she couldn't find the opening mechanism.  But after a few moments Zander had found it: a fake brick which hinged open, allowing the secret door mechanism to be activated.  The room beyond wasn't very big, though: not even three feet deep, although it spanned the full ten-foot width of the building.  It was pitch black inside, save for what light from the temple spilled through the hidden door.

Wakuren went in, as he had no difficulties seeing in little (or even no) light.  "There's a book on a pedestal at the end of the passageway," he called back to the others.  "Pages are made of metal.  There's a picture of a statue of Delphyne - just her head and shoulders - and some words carved above them.  He flipped through the book, keeping his finger in the place where it had been left open so he wouldn't lose his place.  "The whole book's that way," he said.  "Different statues, different words on each page."

"It's a means of teleportation!" hazarded Alewyth.  "Bring the book out here, so we can all look at it!"

"I can't," Wakuren explained.  "it's chained to the pedestal.  Hang on, though, I'll copy the words from the page it was open to."  Borrowing parchment and ink pen from Xandro, Wakuren meticulously copied the inscription on the page and brought it back for the others to see.  It read:

​


> ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
> ZAPPA PORTUX BUDESTICK FUGLEY UTWOUGH MUSEVENGU​





Wakuren tried reading the words aloud (with several different possible pronunciations, just in case) and got nowhere.  "Maybe you have to be touching the book when you say the command phrase," Thurloe suggested, so Wakuren tried that but it didn't help.  He tried saying the words backwards, but that was even harder to pronounce.

"We're missing something," Thurloe observed.

"Obviously," added Xandro.

"What are we missing?" the fighter-wizard mused.  He tried counting the number of letters in each word and then going to that letter in the alphabet, but that ended up with unpronounceable gibberish.  "That alphabet's got to be there for a reason," he thought aloud.

"Delphyne's the Goddess of Magic," Zander observed.  "Maybe we need to apply some magic to the puzzle."  He cast a _detect magic_ spell on Wakuren's hand-written copy and saw nothing, then realized it would make more sense checking out the original book itself.  Bringing along a lit sunrod so he could see better, he looked over the open page and called out, "Hey!  Some of the letters are just illusions - they're not really on the page at all!  Somebody bring me the parchment!"

Scribbling through the illusory letters - all of which had been in the alphabet section - the parchment now looked like this:

​


> A--DE---IJ-L-NOP-RST-VW-Y-
> ZAPPA PORTUX BUDESTICK FUGLEY UTWOUGH MUSEVENGU​





"So..." prompted Thurloe, not seeing how this was any better.

"So if we get rid of the illusory letters in the message below," offered Zander, scribbling through the appropriate letters, "We might get the command phrase!"  It looked like he was on to something, for the parchment now read:

​


> A--DE---IJ-L-NOP-RST-VW-Y-
> -APPA PORT-- --DESTI-- ---LEY -TWO--- --SEVEN--​





"Let's try that!" Zander said, taking the parchment back into the narrow passageway.  It looked plausible, for he knew "appaport" was an archaic word for "teleport" and "ley two seven" sounded like a coordinate on a ley line network.  "Appaport desti ley two seven" he called out with his hand on the book chained to the pedestal.

Instantly, all five of the heroes disappeared.  The hidden door silently slid back into place and locked.  To all appearances, nobody had been by to disturb the Shrine of Delphyne.

From the heroes' point of view, however, the Shrine of Delphyne disappeared around them, to be replaced by a similar building.  This one, despite having the same basic floor plan, was only a single story tall for the statue of Delphyne in the back was merely a bust, depicting the Goddess of Magic from the shoulders up.  It was planted in place on a raided pedestal.  Alewyth, Xandro, Wakuren and Thurloe were inside the shrine in the same places they had occupied in the shrine in Baron's Haven they'd just departed; Zander, however, was no longer in the hidden space behind the shrine but in the street just outside the open entrance.

There was a moaning sound behind him.  Looking back, he saw a zombie lurching in his direction, a look of undying hunger in the dead thing's eyes.  From the moans emanating all around them, the elven sorcerer guessed this wasn't the only zombie stumbling around in this city of the dead.  But it made sense that the necromancer who'd stolen the missing dreamer (for whatever unknown purpose) would make his headquarters in a place surrounded by undead forces.

"Guys?" Zander called out to his friends.  "We've got a problem...."

 - - -

Since "Dregs" had been a short adventure, I figured we would get this far into the adventure that followed and then call it a session.  The reason: the rest of this adventure involves exploring a city of the undead, because not only do they need to hunt down the necromancer and the missing dreamer but also the book of teleport command phrases because this Shrine of Delphyne is missing its copy.  (The players don't know this for sure, but the necromancer took it with him and has hidden it somewhere nearby to ensure only he can use the teleport network hidden in select Shrines of Delphyne.)  I figure this second part of "The Missing Dreamer" will likely go 4-5 hours.  Plus, as this is the last planned 4th-level adventure for this campaign; after we finish the adventure next session we'll follow up by advancing the PCs to 5th level.

 - - -

T-shirt worn: My white "Walking Dead" T-shirt, to represent the undead in the Deadlands - but mostly because I was still wearing it from the last adventure.


----------



## Richards (Nov 27, 2021)

*ADVENTURE 20: THE MISSING DREAMER (PART 2)*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 4​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 1​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 2/paladin 2​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 4​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 4​
Game Session Date: 20 November 2021

 - - -

The corpse shuffled slowly as it meandered over towards Zander Quilson, its rheumy eyes never once dropping from the elf's direction.  "Guys...?" the sorcerer repeated, not sure if his friends had heard him the first time.

But they most certainly had.  Stepping out of the small Shrine of Delphyne - a completely different one than the one they'd stood in moments before, until the correct passphrase _teleported_ them across unknown miles to this new location - Thurloe saw the zombie staggering towards Zander, its rotting teeth snapping as its gaze refused to leave the elf's neck and the life-blood coursing beneath its surface.  Casting a quick _protection from evil_ spell on himself as he stepped forward and unsheathed the bastard sword from his back, Thurloe readied himself for the zombie's approach.  He had plenty of time before it would reach them.

Zander wasn't willing to wait, however.  Saying the words to a _magic missile_ spell, he pointed at the approaching undead form and a pair of glowing darts burst from his fingertip to streak across the distance and explode into the zombie's chest.  It didn't even seem to notice, although there were burn marks where the missiles had struck its undead flesh.

Xandro Silverstrings saw the zombie and while he had full faith in Thurloe's ability to cut it down with his bastard sword, the bard knew where there was one zombie there was likely to be more and he also realized the group he was with tended to dislike fighting the animated remains of dead beings - not that he could blame them!  As a result, he pulled the _Dardolian Lute_ from his back and started strumming the strings, beginning the words to a song he'd use to magically inspire courage in his friends, that their blows would strike true and their determination remain strong.

Alewyth took a step outside the Shrine of Delphyne and stood transfixed at the sight immediately before her.  Not the combat with the zombie; the others seemed to have that well in hand.  No, it was the other open-air shrine directly across from that of Delphyne, Goddess of Magic.  If there had ever been any doubt the statue before her, carved as if wearing dwarven armor and gripping a dwarven warhammer in one hand and a raised shield in the other, had originally been a depiction of Aerik, God of Earth, Stone, and Protection, the caption carved along the front face of the platform upon which the statue stood left no room for disbelief.  The legend "MAY THE GOD OF PROTECTION PRESERVE THIS CITY AND ALL THOSE WHO WORK AND LIVE WITHIN IT" was carved in the Dwarven runic alphabet for all to see.  However, the statue had been defaced - quite literally - in the days since its original erection in the shrine, as evidenced by the pile of gravel on the floor before it; somebody had taken a hammer and chisel to the statue and carved away Aerik's beard and facial features, leaving the semblance of a crude skull in its place.  Whoever had performed this act of vandalism had no doubt intended to repurpose this shrine to the worship of Akari, God of Death and Undeath - and he likely didn't read Dwarven or he'd no doubt have defaced the inscription at the bottom as well.

Wakuren ran forward to aid in fighting off the zombie, noticing his paladin ability to detect the auras of evil beings was being overwhelmed by a miasma of evil covering the entire area.  He slammed into the bloodthirsty zombie with his shield held before him but while his impact pushed it back a step or two, the half-orc's attack didn't seem to do much to the undead flesh holding the corpse creature mobile.  Then Thurloe stepped up beside Wakuren and brought the blade of his bastard sword crashing down on the zombie's head, splitting it open like a ripe melon.  It collapsed to the street and moved no more.

But just as sudden, another zombie stepped out between two buildings, perhaps attracted by the noise of the fight against the first one.  It bit at Thurloe's arm but the fighter twisted away at the last moment and the rotting teeth merely clacked noisily against each other.  Deciding he had no idea how many zombies might be about in this strange city and he'd best conserve his spells for as long as possible, Zander pulled out his wand and activated it, sending a single _magic missile_ streaking into the zombie's chest.  He could send two missiles by casting the spell himself, but he had many more charges left in his wand than the number of spells he could cast in a single day.

Having started his song and hopefully filled his friends with enough combat assistance to let them "coast" for awhile, Xando drew his rapier from the scabbard at his belt and stabbed at the zombie.  Alewyth, in the meantime, had stepped away from the makeshift Shrine to Akari and saw an abandoned potion shop across the street.  Looking over at the others, who seemed to be faring fine with their second zombie, the dwarven priestess stepped inside the potion shop and gave it a quick perusal.  The dust on every surface showed there had been nobody in here for some time; passing through a door to the back of the building, she scooped up a handful of finished potions and placed them in her belt pouch before stepping back outside.  Then, gripping her dwarven warhammer _Sjondra_, she sent it crashing into the zombie's head, crushing the rotting flesh and bone to a pulp.

"We had it taken care of," commented Thurloe as he stepped forward, looking down a side street that went from north to south.  He saw no other undead forms but he could hear their moans and the sounds of feet shuffling through the dirt of the streets and alleys some distance away.  There were apparently plenty more undead they'd need to take care of in this place.

"Didn't mean to imply you hadn't," Alewyth replied.  "Just figured I'd land a hand."  As she said that, another zombie shuffled forward into view from further south down the main street.  With a look of determination, Thurloe stepped forward to meet it.  Zander followed but made sure to allow the armored fighter-wizard plenty of lead space so he'd be the zombie's primary target.  Thurloe seemed to enjoy hand-to-hand combat; Zander Quilson most adamantly did not.  Wakuren followed, casting a _spiritual weapon_ spell that took the form of a heavy mace, the chosen weapon of the half-orc's deity Cal, God of the Air and of Healing.

Xandro continued the tune of courage on his lute, having re-sheathed his rapier now that his own immediate combat was over.  He moved forward as well but continued east, heading for the corner of what was apparently one ward of a larger city.  He was sure a lone zombie wouldn't cause the others too much trouble and it seemed the sooner they searched this undead city the sooner they'd eventually stumble across the necromancer who had kidnapped the dreamer they were supposed to rescue - and hopefully the missing book from the Shrine of Delphyne which would allow them to _teleport_ back to Baron's Haven.  Without it they were screwed, for they had no idea where exactly they were or how to get back to the city they'd left.  Xandro didn't want to leave his horse White behind and he knew the others would hate being permanently separated from their own mounts, especially Alewyth, who had developed quite a bond with her new dire goat mount Pyrite.

The lone zombie snapped at Thurloe, seemingly eager to chew the living flesh from his bones, but the swordsman was having none of that.  Zander fired another _magic missile_ from his wand at the undead thing as Thurloe's blade sliced into the zombie's side.  The floating heavy mace slammed into the zombie's head and Wakuren was pleased to see a magical weapon created of pure force energy seemed to deal much more damage to zombie flesh than did his shield.  But he slammed his shield into it regardless once he'd reached the hungry undead and the shield-strike permanently took the creature out of the fight.

Xandro, in the meantime, checked out an oblong building and a smaller one the size of a shed beside it.  Neither held the missing necromancer; one was a long-unused bathhouse and the other a place to store towels and various soaps and powders.  Alewyth ambled up behind him, curiosity compelling her to check it out.  There was a trio of buildings across the street from the bathhouse and she headed over that way to give them a once-over, figuring as long as everyone stayed within shouting distance of each other they should be fine.  She put an ear to the door of the building before her and heard the shuffling and moaning that hinted at a zombie inside; leaving that one be she stepped up a short flight of stairs to listen at the door at the top of the steps, another one-room dwelling for rent, it seemed, directly above the other.  This too had the earmarks of a single zombie inhabitant no longer containing the intellect to operate the door knob and let itself out into the streets of the city.  Alewyth opted to leave both rooms alone, confident that what they were looking for would not be found in a pair of one-room dwellings each with a single zombie inside.

Two more zombies ambled out of a side street, heading toward Thurloe and the other pair of adventurers stepping up behind him.  He rushed forward to charge into the first zombie, leading with the blade of his bastard sword.  It ripped through the zombie's chest and stuck out its back, sending a wave of gore out behind the thing to spray upon the other approaching zombie.  Thurloe kicked his boot up against the zombie's chest to help tug his sword out of the thing's torso.  It snapped its teeth at the fighter's foot while it was within range but undead reflexes are notoriously slower than those of the living, at least among corporeal undead with bodies composed of rotting meat.

Zander cast a _mage armor_ spell upon himself, not wanting to take the chance one of these rotting zombies might manage to get up close and personal to the elf.  Wakuren managed to swerve his _spiritual heavy mace_ into the side of the first zombie's head before it winked out, the duration of the spell having run its course.  Wakuren then led with his shield, using the edge of the metal bottom as a rather dull blade instead of slamming its flat surface against the undead flesh of his opponent.  But it was Thurloe's bastard sword that drove in the killing blow, if the term can be truly used against a foe already quite dead at the start of the fight.

The other zombie shambled forward and tried grabbing Thurloe in its bent fingers to pull him in for a bite at his neck, but the fighter easily extracted himself from the creature's grasp before it could sink its rotting teeth into his flesh.  Zander abandoned the combat to go check out the door to a large building - a barracks, by the look of it - recalling their real reason for being here was not to rid the city of every wandering zombie inhabiting its streets.  The sooner they could find the missing dreamer and be about their normal business the happier the elf sorcerer would be.  The heavy door was locked and looked like it hadn't been opened for some time, judging by the dirt and leaves piled up against the door by the wind.  Zander opted to leave the barracks doors alone and cast an _expeditious retreat_ spell upon himself, then hurried to catch up with Thurloe and Wakuren.

The northeastern corner of the city ward having been a bust, Xandro and Alewyth started back the way they came and headed south down the street the others had taken.  Wakuren opened the large doors to a stable while Thurloe slew the remaining zombie with his blade.  Not surprisingly, the stables held a trio of ponies, each stinking of rotting meat and mostly skeletal in nature; they'd apparently been starved to death in the stables and remained here waiting for someone to open up the doors to their individual stalls.  Wakuren chose not to be that someone and closed the door to the stables back up.  Another nearby building held similar results, this larger construction holding eight horse stalls, half of them containing undead horses mostly skeletal with but a few scraps of flesh hanging down from their bones.  The nearest moved its head over the door of its stall and snapped at the half-orc but then Wakuren slammed the stable door back shut and moved on further south through the city.

"This looks more promising!" Thurloe declared upon seeing a large building just ahead, its construction of solid stone rather than the flimsy wood of most of the other buildings in the neighborhood.  The door was of sturdy wood with iron bands across the top and bottom.  Trying it, Thurloe confirmed it was locked.  "Over here!" Wakuren called to Xandro and Alewyth, hurrying to catch up.  Then, realizing he was also probably alerting the necromancer with his calls - if indeed this was the building in which he'd taken residence, a likely supposition given it was the largest and most solidly-constructed they'd seen thus far - the half-orc added, "You six cast _invisibility_ spells on yourselves before we break in!"  Hopefully _that_ would give the necromancer something to worry about!  Then Wakuren applied himself to bursting through the door, slamming at it again and again with his shield.  The wood creaked and groaned with each burst.

The others were focused on Wakuren's steady - and rather noisy - efforts, and thus they almost missed spotting the shadowy figure rise up out of the street's surface at the edge of the keep.  The ethereal being drifted over towards the group and Zander called out a warning as the shadow closed the gap between them.  He fired off a _magic missile_ from his wand, secure in the knowledge that force energy should affect the incorporeal shadow.

Xandro had reached the others by then and still had the _Dardolian Lute_ in hand, playing his song of courage.  He altered the lyrics, using one of the magical lute's secret abilities, allowing the bard to weave actual spells into his melodies.  A _cure moderate wounds_ spell was infused into the lute and Xandro pushed the instrument's neck into the body of the insubstantial shadow, the positive energy of the spell firing into the undead form and weakening its necromantic structure.  Alewyth, still catching up, cast a _protection from evil_ spell upon herself as she ran.

Seeing the efficacy of force energy against the shadow, Wakuren took time out from his door-smashing and cast a second _spiritual weapon_ spell, sending the heavy mace crashing into the shadow's weakened structure.  That was enough to dissipate it into nothingness.  "Nice job!" enthused Thurloe, then picked up where the half-orc had left off on gaining them entry into the stone keep.  He kicked at a weakened spot with his hard-soled boot and the door splintered inwards.

There were two skeletons inside waiting for him, clad in rusty mail and wielding longswords.  They sped forward at once, springing to the attack, but Thurloe managed to fend them off with his bastard sword.  Zander blasted one with another charge from his _wand of magic missile_, while Xandro, unable to get through the broken door (there was room enough for but one and Thurloe was currently occupying that space) contented himself with hanging back and playing his song of courageous inspiration.  Wakuren likewise couldn't fit through the partially-shattered door with Thurloe in the way - but he had no problem sending in his _spiritual heavy mace_.  It flew in over Thurloe's head and came crashing down on the first skeleton, obliterating it to a pile of clattering bones.

Thurloe stepped fully into the room and brought his bastard sword in at the skeleton in a sideways slash.  Wakuren entered behind him, slamming the skeleton with his shield now that he had room to do so.  But it was Thurloe's blade which destroyed the skeleton warrior with a final slice that severed its spine.  Then the fighter went south into what looked to be a kitchen, Zander following in his wake.  The elf sorcerer opened a door to a pantry and noted the foodstuff stored there was all in edible condition, with a barrel of fresh water sitting upright on the floor.  This was all a good sign that there was somebody alive in the keep, someone still taking regular meals.

Xandro entered the building and headed north into a dusty living room that gave the opposite indication: it didn't look as if anybody had spent any time in here for months, if not years.  Wakuren and Alewyth went that way with the bard, crossing over to an arcane library whose walls were covered in shelves containing all manners of tomes and volumes detailing a number of arcane topics: the outer planes, various summoning rituals, and other magical esoterica.  Alewyth made a note to point out what looked to be a set of spellbooks to Thurloe after they'd done what they came here to do; maybe he could use them in his own magical self-tutoring.

Thurloe passed through an unlocked door in the back of the pantry and found himself in a bathroom, complete with a privy and a small metal tub.  A door on the far wall entered into a bedroom with an unmade bed and a closet filled with a variety of black robes.  He smiled to himself at this discovery, as these were exactly the types of garment likely to be popular with a necromancer.

The other three, in the meantime, left the library and entered an arcane laboratory, with several tables containing a variety of magical projects in various stages of completion.  Xandro headed toward a cabinet to take a peek inside when a voice suddenly exploded into his head.  It was Father Bones casting a _message_ spell: <Undead creation scrolls stolen from temple.  Possible missing dreamer was involved.  If found, return immediately.  Do not allow them to fall into the hands of evil.>

Before Xandro could tell the others about the _message_ spell a door at the far end opened, but it was only Zander; the two groups had made a circuit around the keep's rooms in opposite directions and now there was only the middle of the building yet to be accounted for.  The elf stepped into the lab and opened the door leading into the center of the keep and there he found what the group had been seeking.

The center of the room contained a _magic circle_ inscribed in silver on the floor, in the center of which lay a black-clad adult male human, fast asleep.  In a corner of the room stood the necromancer *Vargendraal*, frantically flipping through a book he held in his hands and muttering to himself.  Belatedly, he noted the door opening and saw an elven face peering into the room from the arcane laboratory of the keep's original owner, an unknown wizard who had likely died when whatever event transformed the city into a dwelling-place of the undead.

"How did you get in here?" demanded Vargendraal.  "My skeletons--"  He was cut off as a _scorching ray_ spell blasted him in the front of his robes; Zander wasn't in the mood for answering questions or asking any of his own.  Vargendraal snarled in pain and retaliated with a _vampiric touch_ spell, siphoning off some of the elf's life energy and using it to heal up the wounds the necromancer had just received as a result of the sorcerer's fire-based spell attack.  Zander staggered on his feet, weakened by the draining attack.  Vargendraal cast another quick spell upon himself and it wasn't until Thurloe entered and swung his bastard sword into the necromancer's body that anyone learned what exactly it was: a burst of necromantic energy was channeled through Vargendraal's _death armor_ spell, down the length of the sword, and into Thurloe's body.  It was difficult to see which of the two had suffered more from the result of the sword-strike.

But Zander wasn't done with casting _scorching ray_ spells just yet.  Stepping fully into the room and stepping around the still-sleeping body of *Pietro Manicaldrian*, he sent another blast of fire energy at Vargendraal.  The necromancer's stolen energy was depleted in the attack and he too found himself woozy on his feet.  Surprisingly, it was Xandro who slew the evil wizard with a quick thrust of his magic longsword; Vargendraal had turned to face Thurloe and Zander and hadn't even noticed the bard's entrance into the summoning chamber.

Thurloe was quick to examine the necromancer's corpse for potential magic items, removing a ring that looked like it might hold some sort of arcane effect.  Alewyth examined the book Vangendraal had been referencing, finding a diagram of a skull-shaped pendant that matched the one the sleeping thief had around his neck.  Reading through the pages of the text, she explained what the necromancer had been doing.  "That skull pendant on our dreamer is linked to an extradimensional space," she explained.  "To retrieve whatever was placed in it, you have to touch one of the rubies in its eyes and say the command word.  The problem is, if you touch the wrong eye gem, whatever's in the extradimensional space gets dumped into the Astral Plane instead."

"So the wizard had a 50-50 shot of getting it right," Zander said.

"Must have been something important enough to not want to take the chance," Thurloe mused.  Then he started chuckling.  "That's probably why he came to fetch this guy in the first place: he was probably hired to steal something and stash it away, and then got caught up in the dream-plague before he could return with his goods.  That must have been irritating for our necromancer friend!"

"I wonder what's in there?" Alewyth asked.

"I think I know," replied Xandro and filled the rest of the group in on Father Bones' _message_ spell.

"Well, let's tie him up," decided Thurloe, pulling the skull pendant from around Pietro's neck and placing it in a belt pouch.  "We'll bring him back to Father Bones, give him the pendant, and try to wake Mr. Sleepy from there."

"You're forgetting: we have no way to get back until we find the Book of Delphyne," Wakuren chimed in.  So while Thurloe busied himself binding Pietro's arms and legs to his satisfaction, the others searched the keep for the missing Book of Delphyne.  They eventually found it in a desk drawer.  Wakuren flipped to the page with the statue from the shrine in Baron's Haven and read the inscription beneath it.  It read:

​


> B H R I N E H O V E N
> T A G O E S N A Y E L​





"Make anything of it?" Alewyth asked as she packed up the spellbooks of the necromancer they'd just slain and also those of the keep's original wizard inhabitant.  Wakuren traced the letters with his finger and finally exclaimed, "Got it!  You just bounce up and down between the two lines, from right to left and then back again from left to right.  'Baron's Haven Ley One Eight.'  It must be some sort of ley-line coordinates or something."

"Good," replied Thurloe, stepping into the library with a tightly-bound Pietro tossed over one shoulder.  "Let's get back; this guy's kind of heavy."

There were two zombies just outside the keep but the group made short work of them.  They made their way back to the Shrine of Delphyne without any serious opposition, and then everyone touched the shoulder of the person in front of them while Wakuren pried open the secret door and placed the Book of Delphyne on its dais.  "Baron's Haven Ley One Eight," he intoned...and the group was instantly _teleported_ back to the Shrine of Delphyne in the city in which they had started.  The homeless beggar Gilfrey was still sitting in the alley across from the Temple of Akari where they'd left him.  "Got your guy, I see," he said.

"Thanks to you," Alewyth answered, slipping him a few coins.

Father Bones was overjoyed to see the adventurers again.  "Yes, he's the parishioner who fell asleep in our pew," he said upon seeing Pietro.  "Did you happen to find the Black Scrolls?"  Thurloe passed over the skull pendant while Alewyth explained its workings.  "I'm sure a divination spell will tell you which eye gem is the right one to touch," she advised her fellow cleric.  She then explained what all would be required for the group to rescue the thief from his dreams and Father Bones immediately agreed to stand watch over their sleeping bodies as they entered Pietro's dreams.  He had a few of the other clerics join them to ensure there were no interruptions.

Alewyth placed a dreamstone headband around Pietro's brow as the five adventurers sat around him in a circle, each wearing their own similar headband and carrying a second dreamstone in their hand.  Then, one by one, they slowed their breathing and entered a dream state.  Their moogle guides were there to meet them in the Dreamlands and escorted them to the Hallway of Dreams.  "It's this one, kupo!" explained Mogo, opening a particular door.

Stepping through the dream-door, the five entered a dusty plane of whipping winds.  They could see Pietro quite clearly, running across a dusty field in a panicked frenzy.  The reason for this was quite evident, for following behind him was a pile of bouncing bones.  It was a strange thing to be worried about, but by now the group understood that while inside a dream, logic often took a backseat.

"How do we wake him?" asked Zander.  "Defeat a pile of bones?"

"Look!" Alewyth said, pointing to the bones trailing the fleeing thief.  As they bounced around in a line behind him, occasionally two bones would bump into each other and remain attached.  This happened more and more as time went by and soon the loose pile of bones had organized itself into the skeleton of a giant cat.

"Let's go!" commanded Thurloe, in pursuit of the skeletal cat.  He raised the dreamstone in his hand and focused his will through it, attempting to weaken the skeletal cat.  The other four followed his lead and the cat, which had picked up quite a burst of speed once fully assembled into skeletal form, slowed down considerably, to the point Pietro was able to maintain his distance.  "That's better!" Thurloe said, pulling his bastard sword from the scabbard on his back.  "Now let's go get it!"  Not wanting to wait until he reached the cat he dredged up the spellcasting abilities he'd been working on and sent a _magic missile_ spell streaking to hit the feline skeleton.  Despite it not having any vocal apparatus, it yowled in pain at the attack and whirled to face the five adventurers running its way.

But then it hissed its annoyance at them and returned to its original goal of running down Pietro.  The thief had turned to see what the commotion had been about and was amazed to see five rescuers in his dream; in his amazement, he stopped running until he saw the skeletal cat bearing down on him once again.  Turning to flee, he tripped and landed face-first on the ground and the cat pounced upon his back, raking him with its foreclaws.

Zander cast a _scorching ray_ spell at the cat, causing it to spin about again; Pietro took the opportunity to pull himself to his feet and resume his panicked flight.  "Over here!" Alewyth called, indicating he should run to them so they could better protect him; her dwarven legs were never going to allow her to catch up with him otherwise.  (How she wished Pyrite was here with her in the dreamscape!)  In the meantime, she cast a _spiritual weapon_ spell and sent the force-warhammer flying over to strike at the skeletal cat.

Xandro used a stratagem he'd just used for the first time in the city the group had taken to referring as "the Deadlands" - using the _Dardolian Lute_ as a means of channeling a _cure moderate wounds_ spell through his music.  The healing energy of the spell acted like acid against the undead cat, causing its bones to blacken and blister.  Wakuren cast a _cure moderate wounds_ spell directly from his fingertips to the skeletal cat's bones, furthering the damage.

Then Thurloe brought his bastard sword into play and was disappointed to see a skeleton in the dreamlands was as difficult to hurt with a blade as it was in real life.  But if nothing else it focused the cat's attention on him, for its claws scratched furrows across the chest plate of his armor and it caught the fighter's left arm in its teeth.  With the cat focused on these intruders to the dreamscape, Pietro made it successfully to Alewyth, panting from his exertions.  "Th-thank you," he gasped, bending over with his hands on his knees and trying to catch his breath.

Zander finished off the skeletal cat with another _scorching ray_ spell, and this time the blackened bones collapsed back into a pile but did no further dancing about.  He turned to look over at Pietro, but the thief was already fading away like a ghost.  "That did it - he's waking up!" the elf announced to the others.

"Yeah, no kidding," replied Thurloe, sheathing his sword as the dreamscape started fading around them.  One by one, the dreamwalkers woke themselves up and were back in their normal bodies, sitting in a circle around the bound - but quite awake - Pietro Manicaldrian.

"What's happening?  What's going on?" demanded the bound thief.

"You have been a very naughty boy," replied Thurloe, bending over Pietro who was struggling to get out of the ropes binding his ankles and wrists.  "Stealing from a church...very, very naughty indeed."

"Hey, no offense intended," Pietro whined.  "A job's a job, right?  Gotta go where the money's at, you know?"

"Oh, I know exactly what you're talking about," cooed Thurloe.  "The problem is, you didn't steal from me -- you stole from him!"  And he stood back up and pointed over to Father Bones.  Pietro's gaze followed to where Thurloe was pointing and he saw a skeletal being clad in black robes bending over him.

"I am Father Bones," intoned the temple's leader in as deep a voice as he could muster.  "You have stolen from the God of Death and Undeath!  Do you know the punishment for such a deed?"

"Think we're finished here," Thurloe said to the others in his group.  "We'll leave the lich to deal with his scroll-robber."

"I don't envy him," said Zander, his face drained of blood.

"Good thing we don't cross those in charge of the afterlife," Wakuren observed.  "You _really_ don't want to get on their bad side."  Pietro's screams of terror only emphasized the half-orc's point.

 - - -

And it doesn't hurt getting on the good side of those in charge of the afterlife, either; Father Bones rewarded the PCs with 100 gp and a _potion of cure serious wounds_ each.

This ended up being a much shorter session than I had anticipated, in part because I had built a random encounter table for the wandering undead in the the Deadlands and then scrupulously adhered to the die rolls at the start of each round.  That gave the group quite a breather when I rolled "no encounter" like three rounds in a row.  In hindsight, I should have piled on a nice group of 5-6 bloodthirsty zombies all at once; if you're going to have a custom-made city overrun by undead you probably should take advantage of the opportunity when you have it.  Oh well, maybe later in the campaign there will be another reason to enter the Deadlands.

The PCs all reached 5th level at the end of this adventure.  Wakuren took another level in paladin, Thurloe took his second wizard level, and Harry - getting a little bit bored of the "support role" of the bard - decided he'd start multiclassing Xandro Silverstrings into a bard/rogue.  Alewyth and Zander are now our only single-classed PCs.

 - - -

T-shirt worn: My white "Walking Dead" T-shirt, as that seemed the most appropriate for the adventure - and due to scheduling constraints, it had been five weeks since we played through part one of the adventure, plenty of time for it to have been through the laundry in the meantime (as I had also worn it during our previous game session).


----------



## Richards (Dec 12, 2021)

*ADVENTURE 21: HELL TOUPEE*

PC Roster: 
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 5​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 2​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 2/paladin 3​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 4/rogue 1​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 5​
Game Session Date: 4 December 2021

 - - -

"All rise!  The Honorable Magistrate *Jondir Duprayne* presiding!"

Everyone in the courtroom immediately stood up as Magistrate Duprayne entered and took his seat behind the desk on the elevated platform at the back of the room.  He banged the gavel three times in rapid succession on the desk before him.  "This court is now in session," he intoned.  "Who's first this morning?" he asked his bailiff.

"These five, Your Honor," replied his bailiff, a burly-looking man who looked like he could handle his own in a fight.  He indicated the five adventurers who had been taken away from a hearty breakfast at the Merry Minstrel Inn that morning by a band of hobgoblin city guards.  They'd been escorted into the courtroom, where a page had explained to them the courtroom had a permanent _zone of truth_ spell effect cast upon it, preventing anyone within its confines from telling a lie.  "They were observed casting spells within the city limits on several occasions."

Magistrate Duprayne glared down at the five.  Then his attention was diverted to Wakuren.  "Did you steal that armor?" he demanded.

"No, sir," Wakuren replied.

"You will address the Magistrate as 'Your Honor,'" chided the bailiff.

"No, Your Honor," amended Wakuren.

"Then you're really a cleric of Cal?"  The symbol of the High-Father was prominently displayed on the half-orc's armor and shield.

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Hmm.  You don't see that every day."  Then he turned back to the group as a whole.  "When you first entered the city, were you briefed on the prohibitions against spellcasting within the city walls unless under the direct supervision of one of the city's clerics?"

Thurloe took it upon himself to answer for the group.  "We were, Your Honor."

Magistrate Duprayne looked down at a sheet of parchment before.  "It says you were seen casting spells in the streets outside the Merry Minstrel Inn several days ago, and then again in the poorer section of town over by the dumps.  Is this correct?"

Wakuren confessed to having cast a _spiritual weapon_ spell against the druid who had unleashed dire apes upon the city and argued that it was done only in the interests of neutralizing a dangerous threat that could have harmed innocent townsfolk.  Alewyth likewise explained she had merely cast a _bless_ spell and Zander had cast a _mage armor_ spell before entering combat with the corpse of a woman who had been animated by a trio of dregworms that had inhabited her body - again, with the best interests of the city at heart.  The dwarven priestess felt she had made her case when a balding man in the back row stood up and addressed the Magistrate directly.

"If it please the court?" he asked, waiting for permission to continue.

"Yes?" asked Magistrate Duprayne.

"Your Honor, my name is *Byram Herschfeld* and I'm a structural engineer for the city.  I've been put in charge of clearing out the rubble from the wizard's tower that exploded last week.  I have a half-dozen laborers working for me and we've discovered there's a level below the keep.  One of the rooms we found down there indicates the wizard may have been associating with devils and now none of my men will go down there anymore.  City regulations require at least a two-man team exploring potentially dangerous areas.  I could greatly use people with the adventuring experience of these five.  Given the nature of the spells they cast - in the defense of the city's inhabitants, it bears repeating - I feel we can trust them into my care.  With Your Honor's permission and agreement, I would like to recommend they be sentenced to aiding me in clearing out the underground level of any potential dangers to the city."

"How long do you think it would take?" asked the Magistrate.

"I have no idea how extensive the underground level might be, Your Honor, or if there are any other levels beneath the one we've discovered thus far.  I would imagine probably a day or two - three at the very most - would be sufficient."

"Very well."  He turned to the five adventurers before him.  "You will each have a _lesser geas_ spell placed upon you, the duration to last no longer than a full week's time or until Byram reports back that any dangers to the city in the tunnels below the wizard's tower have been dealt with, whichever comes first.  Case dismissed."

"I hope you don't mind me butting in like that," Byram said to his new group of workers as they were escorted to a side room where a cleric would be casting the required _lesser geas_ spells upon them.  "Magistrate Duprayne has a reputation for coming down hard on spellcasting offenders - this job is likely a much better deal for you than whatever his original punishment was likely to be.  And I get the help I need to check out the lower level beneath the tower."

"Win-win," Thurloe agreed, not without a trace of suspicion in his voice.  This Byram fellow was certainly winning, but Thurloe wasn't entirely thrilled with any sort of magical compulsion - especially if it meant potentially being forced to fight devils.  He viewed this whole setup as a form of robbery - robbing the dreamwalkers of their liberty - and the fact that the ones doing the robbing were the law of the city didn't make it feel like any less of a violation.  Still, what was the option: take on an entire city, just the five of them?  Thurloe knew where that particular trail led.  Best to just get this whole thing over with and move on to the next town as soon as possible.

By the time they'd had their _lesser geas_ spells cast upon them and Byram led them across town to the site of the collapsed tower, Thurloe was feeling a little better.  The wizard's tower wasn't that big: a mere 30 feet to a side and all of two stories tall before the upper level collapsed down onto the ground level a week ago after some sort of explosion in the middle of the night.  With a keep that small, maybe the dungeon level would be similarly small and this task would be completed quickly, so the group could be on their way.

The workers were already in place and hard at it, lugging chunks of stone from the site and tossing them onto various piles out on the yard.  "How's it going, *Toby*?" asked Byram.

"We got a mostly clear path off to the room on the right," the worker replied.  He looked over at the new recruits, all suited up in their adventuring gear.  "You takin' them downstairs?" he asked Byram.  Upon his boss's acknowledgement, Toby stared Thurloe right in the eye.  "You be careful down there," he admonished.  "I don't care what anybody says.  I saw that devil move.  _I saw it move!_"  And with that, he turned back to his work, lugging a chunk of broken stone out of one of the gaps in what ground floor walls still stood after the collapse of the tower.

"Just exactly what happened here?" asked Alewyth, looking at the rubble and wreckage.

"Not sure exactly," replied Byram as he lit the end of a torch on fire.  "Middle of the night a week or so ago, there was a big explosion and the top of the building collapsed down upon the floor below it.  Owner was a wizard, an aloof sort name of *Revellius Bonesaw*, kept pretty much to himself.  Nobody's seen him since, so it's possible he was killed in the explosion, not that we've come across his body yet.  But if it's under there" - and here he pointed at the piles of collapsed stone still waiting to be removed from the area where the tower once stood - "we'll get to it eventually.  It's not like it'll be going anywhere."  He picked up a small cage, inside of which sat a canary.  "You folks ready to go on down?"

"We'd like to cast a few spells first, if that's okay with you," Thurloe replied.  Back at the Magistrate's courtroom, it was explained that Byram Herschfeld, as an employee of the city, was being made their official city representative and had the power to grant permission for the casting of spells as he saw fit in the accomplishment of the task to which he'd been appointed.

"By all means.  In fact, consider this an open invitation to cast whatever spells you need while we're downstairs.  We get ourselves into any kind of danger, I want you to be able to respond quickly without having to check with me first."

"Well, that's more like it!" Thurloe said and began casting a _protection from evil_ spell upon himself, an eminently practical spell if there was any chance they'd end up fighting devils below the wizard's tower.  Zander cast both a _mage armor_ and a _bear's endurance_ spell upon himself, then rifled through his scrolls until he found one containing an _expeditious retreat_ spell and cast that upon himself as well.  Wakuren cast a _virtue_ spell on the elven sorcerer, then activated his _ring of invisibility_ and faded from view.  Alewyth cast a _magic circle against evil_ spell upon herself and then a _bless_ spell upon the whole group.

"Nothing for you?" Byram asked Xandro.

"I'm good," replied the bard.

"Well, let's head on down then," suggested the structural engineer, lifting the canary cage and holding the torch before him.  "I'll lead us down to the room that caused all the fuss - we never did get to explore it very much."  He led the group through a clear path in the rubble, heading over to a set of stairs in the back corner of the keep - what was likely once the kitchen.  The stairs led down into an alchemist's lab, lit only by Byram's torch.  Thurloe activated a sunrod from his pack so he'd have his own handy source of illumination.  The lab contained a couple tables with various alchemical apparatus on it, none of it disturbed by the collapse of the tower above.  There was another door on the far side of the room and Byram headed straight for it.

"Here you go, see for yourself," he said, opening the door and stepping back.

Wakuren and Alewyth were the first to stick their heads into the doorway, for their darkvision allowed them to see just fine without any illumination.  One the floor before them, taking up most of the center of the room, was a silvery pentagram etched into the floor.  There was no furniture in the room and only what looked to be a closet door at the south end of the room, but that just made for plenty of wall space to devote to murals.  And of murals there were plenty: every available inch of wall-space had been painstakingly painted in exquisite detail, with scenes of leering devils torturing panicked humans and Hellscapes in the background: fire raining down from the skies, lakes of flame, horrible horned serpents and worse crawling in the background.  And Wakuren couldn't help but believe he had seen one or more of the devils move in his peripheral vision, as if it had turned his head towards the half-orc and then moved back into place once Wakuren turned his gaze that way.  "You see anything funny about these paintings?" he asked Alewyth.

"Funny?  Certainly not."  She saw nothing but depravity in the scenes depicted on the walls and didn't blame the workers above one bit for not wanting to enter the room.

But Thurloe followed them into the room and caught motion out of the corner of his eye, just as he'd been warned about by the worker upstairs.  Zander activated his _scout's headband_ and used up all of its daily power at once to grant himself _true seeing_ for a full minute.  "These paintings are all illusions!" he declared.

Thurlough pulled his bastard sword from its scabbard on his back and poked the blade into the middle of the head of a painted devil, one which the fighter-wizard could swear he'd seen move but a moment earlier.  One of the properties of his blade was the destruction of illusions it touched, and sure enough when he touched the blade to the devil it not only stopped moving but disappeared altogether.  Touching his blade to other parts of the walls caused the images to fade from view as well.  "Sure enough: these scenes are all just illusions," he announced.

"To what end?" asked Xandro.

"Who knows?  Just for fun?  To scare intruders into not wanting to venture any further?" Thurloe hazarded.

"There's not much further to go, though," said Wakuren, still invisible but obviously the one who was opening the closet in the back.  Unfortunately, it was filled with shelves containing spell components and a wide variety of small statuettes of various devils.  Wakuren tried pulling on the statues, hoping to trigger a secret door release mechanism, but none of the figures were attached to the shelves upon which they were arranged.  He picked up a statuette of what looked to be a shapely succubus with feathered wings instead of those of a bat, looking it over; to the others, they saw the statuette rising from the shelf seemingly of its own accord and hovering in the air.  Only Zander could see through Wakuren's invisibility, but then he focused his attention on the magic pentagram on the floor, looking to see (as Thurloe suggested) if there might be some secret way to raise it up and find a secret set of stairs below it or something.  That didn't pan out, but then Zander looked closer at the closet interior and noticed the thin slots along the floor at the closet's front and back: a sure sign that the whole closet had a way of moving to the side.  Sure enough, by merely pushing on the eastern wall of the closet, the whole thing moved about three feet to the area directly beneath the stairs leading up to the ground level.

Scrambling through the opening, Zander saw a corridor heading east almost immediately upon exiting the back of the closet.  But there were niches on either side of the narrow corridor about 15 feet down, and in each niche stood a suit of full plate armor holding a longsword pointed at its feet.  Zander knew what that likely meant: a pair of guardian constructs that would animate and attack as soon as anyone tried passing between them unless they gave the proper command word or wore the correct ring or something like that.  Not wanting to test his theory, he merely backtracked the way he had come and let the others know what he had found.

Thurloe pushed his way through the narrow passageway and advanced up to the suits of armor, examining them with his sunrod in one hand and his bastard sword in the other.  Sure enough, there were runes on the helmets, chests, and shoulders of the armor and if the young wizard was recalling his lessons correctly they had something to do with transmutation magic.  "These things are gonna attack anyone who tries passing by them," he said.

"Let's test that," suggested the still-invisible Wakuren, still carrying the statuette of the erinyes devil.  He passed between the armor without incident, the "floating" statuette seeing to fly right past their heads with no response.

Zander took that as a possible good sign and ran past the suits of armor as well.  However, while they hadn't detected Wakuren's invisible form and had dismissed the "flying" statuette as harmless, an elven stranger in the master's secret underground level was enough of a trigger to jolt them to a semblance of instant life.  They brought their swords up and out to swing at the passing elf, one of the blades getting in a lucky strike against Zander's shin as he raced by.  But then Thurloe was upon them with his own blade, allowing Zander to flee further down the tunnel and out of range of the dread guards.

Alewyth advanced down the corridor behind Thurloe and tried casting a _dispel magic_ spell at the one not currently trading blows with Thurloe (as it was the only one she could see at the moment).  Her spell didn't seem to have any effect.  Behind her, Xandro sent a crossbow bolt flying over her head to strike the same dread guard in the helmet.

But then the first dread guard stepped out of its niche and blocked any further traffic through the corridor.  It attacked Thurloe, standing directly in front of it, but the fighter dodged the thing's blow.  Byram entered the tunnel from the narrow passageway in the back of the summoning room's closet, but as instructed earlier he held himself back out of danger, allowing the trained professionals to deal with the real threats.

Wakuren spun around and went flying back down the tunnel the way he had come, slamming his shield into the back of the dread guard facing Thurloe.  His shield bash attack returned him to full visibility and it was enough - after Thurloe's successful blows - to reduce the guardian to a pile of loose pieces of armor which spilled apart and rolled around on the tunnel floor.

Despite the combat going on behind him, Zander decided his best course of action was to leave the combat to those better suited to it than the elven sorcerer; besides, he had a clock ticking on his _true seeing_ abilities and he'd best get the most mileage from it as he could!  With that in mind, he reached a cross-tunnel just ahead and turned north, poking his head into what could only be a sacrificial chamber - judging from the bloodstained altar in the middle of the room before a life-sized statue of some horned devil in the back of the room - and here he was immediately rewarded for the cleverness of his ploy for he could see the sacrificial dagger lying upon the altar was not just any old dagger but rather a bearded devil _polymorphed_ into that form.

However, since the dagger was just sitting there lifelessly, Zander judged it to be harmless for the moment and retraced his way back to the intersection and this time went south, opening a door into a library.  This had shelves of books and tomes, with a jumble of scroll tubes spilling out of a case and statues of devils carved into the very walls between the shelves.  But of the more immediate notice was the robed figure slumped over onto a table in the middle of the room, as if he'd fallen asleep reading the tome open before him.  However, on closer inspection, Zander could see the edges of the pages in the book the figure - who now that he paid closer attention wasn't breathing - had been reading were blackened and charred.  But then all thoughts of the robed man and his possible fate were dashed aside when a glowing figure rose up out of the floor beside the corpse.  It wore a robe remarkably similar to the one the dead wizard was wearing, and that told Zander this was probably the man's ghost or spirit or something - nothing he wanted to get involved with, in any case!  Hoping the undead spirit would constrain itself to the arcane library, Zander closed the door behind him and ran back to the intersection.  There was another door to the east but the elf opted to head back west, closer to his adventuring companions.

There was door there as well, just past the spot where the dread guards had stood their tireless watch and where one even now traded blows with Wakuren and Thurloe.  Zander opened the door, saw it was a small room containing three small cells, and deduced this was where Revellius Bonesaw kept his victims before sacrificing them on the altar in the first room he'd unearthed.  But as there didn't seem to be anything interesting in the cell room, he turned back without bothering to close the door.

That was a particularly bad idea, for there was an iron cobra behind the door and Zander had basically just set it free to attack him and his companions.  It came slithering out of the open doorway and bit at the unsuspecting elf, who at least had the good fortune of hearing the sounds it made as its iron body slithered across the stone floor of the underground level and thus had enough forewarning to avoid its sudden strike.

A dwarven warhammer suddenly manifested in the air above Thurloe's head and came smashing down upon the sole remaining dread guard.  While its attention was directed at the _spiritual weapon_, Thurloe got in another good strike with his bastard sword.  Xandro sent another crossbow bolt flying over Alewyth's head into the armored helmet of the guardian construct.  It lashed out again at Thurloe, its original target, as Wakuren slammed into its back with his shield.

But then, with everyone focusing on their current foe, the wraith flew out of the wall and sent a clawed hand into Zander Quilson's body, sending a wave of cold coursing through the elf.  Zander dropped the _figurine of wondrous power_ from his fingertips and said the activation word, allowing the elven dog to form into its full, living size.  "Take care of the cobra for me!" he commanded as he spun to face the wraith.  The cooshee leaped to the attack at once, snapping at the serpentine construct's iron body with his teeth.

Alewyth's _spiritual weapon_ drove the final blow on the dread guard and it too fell to pieces on the stone floor of the corridor.  The way now clear, she started heading towards the east, for Zander had said something about a sacrificial dagger that needed destroying and that certainly sounded like a job well suited to her dwarven warhammer, _Sjondra_.  Thurloe, in the meantime, had lowered his sword and pointed a finger of his other hand at the wraith, calling out the words to a _magic missile_ spell as he did so.  The bolt of force energy hit true - as the fighter-wizard knew it would - sending a flurry of energy erupting through the incorporeal creature's body. 

Stuck behind both Thurloe and Alewyth in the narrow corridor, Xandro put away his light crossbow and pulled out his Dardolian Lute, starting the tune of his inspirational courage; it was one way he could contribute to the fights against enemies he at the moment couldn't reach himself.

The iron cobra, metal hood flaring, darted in at the cooshee and caught him in the throat with its envenomed bite.  The rank poison started coursing through the elven dog's body, affecting him as it would any other creature of living flesh.  The cooshee felt his muscles weakening as a result but determinedly fought on.

Wakuren activated his other ring, channeling an extra burst of healing energy into his hand in addition to the _cure moderate wounds_ spell he called into being.  Then he rushed at the wraith, hoping to send a massive burst of positive energy at it all at once.  In this he was unfortunately disappointed for his body passed right through the undead spirit without affecting it at the least; always a danger when fighting incorporeal foes.  But the wraith darted a hand out and siphoned energy from the half-orc's body, causing an involuntary snarl of hatred to burst from Wakuren's fanged mouth.  Fortunately, the soldier of Cal managed to connect with his second strike, sending the accumulated positive energy cascading across the wraith's incorporeal frame, eliciting a howling wail of pain that brought a smile to Wakuren's lips.

The wraith was clearly on its last legs.  It dashed at Wakuren again, its face a rictus of hatred.  The half-orc felt his body go cold against the undead creature's touch but he fought off the worst of the effects and sent his shield swishing through the wraith's incorporeal body; it didn't do any good but it made Wakuren feel better to do so.  And then a second _magic missile_ spell, this one from Zander, sent the wraith's body dissipating to nothingness.  Off to the side of the elf, the iron cobra and the cooshee snapped at each other, mostly in vain.

Alewyth redirected her _spiritual weapon_ spell to attack the iron cobra as she entered the sacrificial chamber and scowled at the statue of the leering devil along the far wall.  Then she hefted _Sjondra_, lifted it behind her head for an overhead swing, and brought it crashing down onto the sacrificial altar, right where the dagger had lain...but was there no longer.  It was now somehow hanging in the air on the other side of the altar, much like the erinyes statue had seemed to fly when an invisible Wakuren had carried it around.  Alewyth scrambled up onto the altar and swung at the dagger again but it dodged in midair, darting around out of the way of the dwarf's warhammer.  Wakuren entered the chamber behind Alewyth and saw her predicament; he climbed up onto the altar beside her and tried swatting the flying dagger with his shield.

In the meantime, the battle with the iron cobra was raging and it now not only involved the cooshee and the metal serpent snapping at each other but also Alewyth's _spiritual weapon_ spell, Xandro shooting crossbow bolts at the iron cobra, and Zander casting a _shocking grasp_ spell from a scroll and then trying to touch the rapidly-swaying automaton with no success.  As this was all happening in a short side-corridor leading to the room of cells, Byram moved past the commotion to head over towards Alewyth and Wakuren, while Thurloe decided everyone else had their respective battles in hand so he might as well go check out that door at the eastern dead-end corridor.

As soon as he touched his hand to the doorknob Thurloe realized he'd made a mistake, for there was some sort of glyph inscribed above the handle and as soon as he even glanced at it it triggered.  The _symbol of pain_ sent a magical wave bursting throughout the underground complex, wracking all but Thurloe and Byram with agonizing pain.  The fighter had managed to fight of the worst of the spell's effects and looked back at the others with a half-apologetic grin on his face, then decided he might as well see what was worth protecting with so powerful a ward.  The corridor beyond the door continued for a dozen feet or so before spilling into a deep pit; looking over the lip, Thurloe saw half a dozen chests lined up along the pit's edge, in the center of which was a pile of human bones - no doubt the remains of those sacrificed in the chamber Alewyth and Wakuren were in - and a mass of goop that was likely all that was left of them besides the bones.  As the pit was a good 40 feet deep, Thurloe decided to leave it for last, as there was no point in climbing down there to check out the chests until all of the other dangers had been dealt with.  Therefore, he sauntered back out of the pit room (leaving the door wide open) and headed over to the sacrificial chamber to see if the two clerics needed any help in swatting down a flying dagger.

It turned out they had made almost no progress at all, for it was still doing aerial maneuvers around the room while the two clerics tried hitting it with their shield and with _Sjondra_, respectively.  But then, as Thurloe entered (he had to push past Byram to do so, who had stood in the intersection of hallways as if transfixed), a voice called out from the direction of the pit room, "Infernicus!"  This turned out to have been the command word which transformed the flying dagger back into its bearded devil form, and it had been uttered by the invisible imp Thurloe had just released from the treasure pit.  *Desecrus* had been playing his favorite game - taunting the ochre jelly his late master Revellius had placed inside the treasure pit as a guardian - when a stranger had gazed down over the edge of the pit; investigating this intrusion, the imp had been delighted to see a half-dozen strangers engaged in combat with several of the dungeon's inhabitants.  This, he thought, was going to be fun!

The iron cobra managed to get past the cooshee's defenses and gotten a firm grip onto Zander's thigh, pumping a dose of its venom into the elf's leg.  Zander grimaced but the attack gave him an opportunity to discharge the _shocking grasp_ spell he'd channeled into his right hand and arcs of electricity rippled down the construct's iron body.  The cooshee scraped his front claws against the thing's head and Xandro hit it again with a crossbow bolt and eventually their combined efforts took their toll and the iron cobra collapsed to the stone floor to move no more.

But in the sacrificial chamber, things were just heating up.  The bearded devil, a crafty smile upon his lips, said aloud the single word, "Agreed" as he swung his glaive at Wakuren, nearly toppling the half-orc from his altar-top perch.  Alewyth, now attacking a much larger target than a flying dagger, connected with a swing of _Sjondra_, hitting the devil in his broad chest.  Thurloe, now committed to helping the clerics fight an honest-to-goodness devil, ran around the side of the sacrificial altar and struck at the fiend with his bastard sword.  "Alewyth!" he called as he attacked.  "Apply the _silversheen_ to your weapon - it's one of his vulnerabilities!"

Zander saw the invisible imp flying down the corridor and hit him with a _magic missile_ spell, causing it to squawk in surprise that somebody had seen it at all.  Then the cooshee ran down the corridor, turning to snap at the imp after it had clawed at him and made itself visible in doing so.  Now it was trapped with a cooshee on one side and an elven spellcaster on the other.  Xandro didn't dare try to shoot at the imp with Zander in the way so he went back to playing his inspirational song of courage - maybe it would help counteract the effects of the _symbol of pain_ Thurloe had triggered.

As if suddenly cold, Byram flipped the hood of his cloak up over his head and retreated to the safety of the library containing the dead body of Revellius Bonesaw, closing the door behind him.  Zander thought that was a bit odd but didn't have time to dwell on it as he was still fighting the imp.  Its tail stinger hit the elf on the shoulder but it was fortunately a glancing blow and not a lot of the devil's venom made it into the wound, little enough that Zander hoped he could avoid the worst of whatever effects it might bring.  But he retaliated with another _magic missile_ spell, then ducked around the corner of the intersection, towards the arcane library, while his cooshee carried on the attack.

The bearded devil stabbed at Wakuren with his glaive, opening an infernal wound in the half-orc's side which hurt almost as much as the agony the _symbol of pain_ had delivered.  Alewyth stepped back from combat just long enough to pull out a vial of _silversheen_ from her pack and apply it quickly to the striking surfaces of her dwarven warhammer.  Thurloe hit the devil again with his bastard sword and then tried to retreat, forgetting the extra reach the fiend had with his glaive.  It was all he could do to avoid the fiendish blade stabbing his way as he retreated to the doorway.

The cooshee suddenly yowled out in pain, for it was unaware of what the imp had seen coming: the ochre jelly had oozed its way up the side of the pit and had entered the passageway through the open door.  Its acidic coating burned at the elven dog's feet as it slowly engulfed him like an approaching wave.  But with Zander around the corner Xandro now had room to enter physical combat himself and he did so by charging at the imp, leading with the point of his magic longsword.  The blade stabbed into the imp's back and skewered him right through the belly, killing him instantly.  But unlike summoned creatures whose bodies vanished when they died, Desecrus remained skewered on the bard's sword and he had to take a boot to the little devil's body to pull his sword back out of his nasty little hide.

Wakuren attacked the bearded devil with the bottom edge of his shield, where it came to a point.  The blow opened a wound on the devil's frame but he merely seemed amused by the damage.  He retaliated with another blow of his glaive, opening another infernal wound in the half-orc's battered body.  Alewyth saw her fellow cleric's predicament and rushed in, not to rejoin the combat but to cast a _cure moderate wounds_ spell on Wakuren, which healed all but the two infernal wounds the bearded devil had inflicted upon him.  Thurloe took the opportunity to try to cast a _shield_ spell on himself before re-entering the combat but he messed up the somatic component to the spell in his heavy armor and the _shield_ spell dissipated before taking effect.  He snarled in irritation but headed back into the chamber, bastard sword in hand.

Zander had popped his head back around the corner and saw the ochre jelly attacking his faithful (although as-yet-unnamed) elven hound.  The sorcerer cast a _scorching ray_ at the jelly, burning its acidic body as it had burned the cooshee.  Instinctively, the elven dog whirled and bit and clawed at the ooze monster, learning only after the fact that attacking a pliant blob coated in acid burned even when _you_ attacked _it_.

The ochre jelly repositioned its body mass, forming a pseudopod that lashed out at the beleaguered elven dog, finally killing it.  Of course, the cooshee's death merely resulted in it reverting to its statuette form, which plopped into the jelly's mass.  Before Xandro even gave it much thought, he darted his hand in and grabbed at the _figurine of wondrous power_, afraid of having the jade statuette get eaten away by the jelly's acid.  He turned to hand it to Zander, but the elf was now following Byram into the arcane library, to see what he was up to.  Xandro just gave a cursory wipe of the statue on the leg of his pants and dropped it into a pouch, hoping he'd gotten rid of most of the acid coating it.

Wakuren managed to finally land the killing blow on the bearded devil after a furious three-against-one fight.  Then he and Alewyth took a moment to apply healing spells among the three as needed, the half-orc concentrating closely on his spellcasting and managing to seal up the two infernal wounds the bearded devil had inflicted upon him.  Then, looking to see where everyone else had gotten off to, they crossed the intersecting corridors and saw the ochre jelly making its steady way in their direction.  Alewyth now had a silvered weapon but didn't want to risk using it against an acidic creature so she cast a second _spiritual weapon_ and allowed it to strike the ooze in her stead.  Thurloe flung a _magic missile_ at it in passing, then headed to the arcane library where everyone else seemed to have headed.  The ooze moved slow enough they could take a moment's breather while it caught up to them.

Inside the library, there was a bit of confusion going on.  Byram was frantically searching through the scroll tubes, while Zander was accusing him of something to do with his hair.  That was weird; the structural engineer had his hood up but Thurloe could see there was a thick body of hair on the top of the formerly balding man's head, strands of it peeking out from underneath the hood.  Zander lifted the corpse of Revellius Bonesaw to get a good look at his face, wondering if maybe the dead wizard had somehow taken over Byram, but while Revellius had a full head of hair and a neatly-trimmed beard, his hair looked nothing like that which Byram was suddenly sporting.

Alewyth stopped at the intersection long enough to see her _spiritual weapon_ tearing into the ochre jelly; it was quivering enough to make her believe the thing was almost dead.  Trusting in the temporary covering of the _silversheen_ she'd applied to the weapon's head to keep it safe from acid, she brought _Sjondra_ down in what turned out to be the killing blow.  Then she joined the men in the library.

Thurloe had entered and dropped a hand on Byram's shoulder, channeling a _touch of fatigue_ into the engineer's wiry frame.  The two were standing next to an intricate carving of an erinyes devil and Thurloe noted there was a seam along one side of the carving that might indicate a hidden door.  Byram tore his shoulder from the fighter's grasp and snarled a warning at him; after this uncharacteristic behavior, Xandro aimed his crossbow at the engineer as a warning but held off on actually attacking for now.

It was only when Wakuren entered the library and saw the commotion that he opted to do a quick _detect evil_ check.  Sure enough, there was now an aura of evil surrounding Byram Herschfeld - but oddly, the aura seemed confined only to the top of his head.  "He's got evil hair!" the half-orc cried out and crossed the room to bring a vicious slap to the back of the engineer's head.  Zander Quilson, knowing how precisely a _magic missile_ spell could be targeted, fired a spell at Byram's hair, killing it instantly.  It fell forward, dropping past the astonished engineer's face and falling to the stone floor of the library.  Byram took a step away from it as if afraid it would try to climb back onto him, but the animated hairpiece was no longer mobile; whatever animating force had given it energy was now gone.

"Oh thank goodness!" Byram gushed, stepping even further away from the now-harmless toupee.

"What in the world happened here?" Wakuren demanded.

Byram only blushed in response.  "It was back in the intersection, when you were still fighting the dagger," Byram explained.  "There was a voice in my head, offering to give me anything I wanted.  I..."  He placed a hand on his bald head.  "I immediately thought about how I'd had a nice head of hair in my younger days...and then, all of a sudden, there was hair on my head and a new voice in my thoughts, taking full control of my body.  I was helpless to stop it!"  He looked over at the pile of scrolls.  "It was looking for a specific scroll, I think...and it had plans for me to trap you into the secret summoning chamber behind this wall."

"Where?" demanded Xandro.

"Here, I think," replied Thurloe, tugging at the carving of the erinyes in the wall.  Sure enough, it hinged forwards, revealing a short passageway into a round room taken up entirely with a five-pointed pentagram inside a _magic circle_ inscribed on the floor.  At equal distances around the circle were five carved statues: a barbed devil, a bearded devil, an erinyes devil, a chain devil, and a red abishai, the latter looking rather like a draconic gargoyle.  Each of the statues had gemstones in place of their eyes, but were otherwise carved out of black marble.

"So," Xandro said, "now what?"

At Thurloe's insistence, their next move was to go explore the treasure pit, where they discovered Revellius had apparently placed most of his stock in the ochre jelly and the difficulties in even getting down there safely (Wakuren's _rope of climbing_ was put to good use, while Byram theorized Revellius likely used a _fly_ spell) in keeping his treasure secure, for there weren't even any locks on the chests.  Two chests contained gold coins; one a bunch of gemstones; a fourth trade bars of silver; and the last two were devoted to miscellaneous magical items and rows of various magical potions and elixirs.  Byram made an inventory list of everything but insisted on leaving the items in place.  "They'll want to bring the items out under guard, no doubt," Byram explained.  "No sense in bringing these all out into the open, to tempt the workers doing all that back-breaking labor hefting away stones."

But upon having Alewyth and Zander give every room a thorough once-over and detecting no other hidden doors or secret passageways, Byram declared the underground level to be free of danger - except for the contents of the arcane library.  "We'll have clerics from the Temple of Delphyne come take a look at the magical writings and such," Byram declared.  "Some they'll probably want to keep; some will probably be burned.  I'm sure Revellius had some rather nasty magics in that library, considering the things he got up to down there."

"So how did he die?" Alewyth asked.  "And what caused the tower to explode?  A rival wizard or something?"

"Probably _explosive runes_ or some other kind of magic in that book he was reading," Thurloe explained.  "And trusting guy that he was, I wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't figured a way of blowing up his tower in the event of his death to make sure nobody got to his stuff.  There are _contingency_ spells that can do stuff like that."  It was as likely an explanation as any. 

 - - -

And that ended up that adventure.  The PCs were each awarded 1,000 gp by Magistrate Duprayne upon Byram's testimony on their behalf.  Xandro opted to spend his reward money on a pair of magic gloves from the treasure pit; they allow their wearer to change the energy type of a magic weapon three times per day.  (Xandro recently gained a _+1 frost short sword_ which he can now use to change to deal fire damage, or acid damage, or so on for one round at a time.)

During our last gaming session in this campaign I had told the players the name of this adventure, but they of course had assumed I had said "Hell to Pay," which made sense given the opening sequence was them standing before a magistrate for having broken the city's laws about spellcasting.  Then, when there was the whole "trafficking with devils" aspect to Revellius's past, the name seemed even more appropriate.  It wasn't until they confronted Byram - now with an inexplicable full head of hair - that I asked them if they remembered what the adventure was called.

"Hell to Pay," they replied.

"What was it?" I prompted, showing them the initial initiative card I had made for Byram Herschfeld and then the other one I had made and switched during gameplay without any of them noticing.  When Joe had been surprised at Byram having hair I showed him the initiative card, pretending it was the same one I had started with.  When Dan had the same suspicions, I did likewise, playing it off as if they just must not have noticed his hair when they first met him (and when I had showed them the initial card with his bald head featured prominently).

"Hell Toupee," they grumbled, nowhere near as pleased with my trickery as I was.

 - - -

T-shirt worn: My "Duck Dynasty" T-shirt with four bearded men - not only to represent the bearded devil, but because together the four beards have the US flag colors superimposed on them and this was a good representation of "strange hair on one's head - like the "Hell toupee."


----------



## Richards (Dec 25, 2021)

*ADVENTURE 22: THE LEAGUE OF BEASTS*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 5​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 2​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 2/paladin 3​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 4/rogue 1​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 5​
Game Session Date: 18 December 2021

 - - -

"Hey, kupo!" said Mogo as the dreamwalkers assembled for their nightly session of training.  "Want to see the next dream you'll be entering, kupo?"  He led them through a door in the Corridor of Dreams.  This latest dream was pretty much absent of background details - as was often the case when a dream was focused solely on what was occurring within - but there was a wide circle on the ground and in the middle of it were two combatants: a trim-bearded human and a black bear, each engaged in trying to wrestle each other into submission.

"You're going down!" promised the man, his biceps bulging as he tried to push the bear back out of the circle and thus win the match.

"Don't count on it!" countered the bear.

"How long has this dream been going on?" asked Alewyth, watching the combatants struggling to no avail - they seemed pretty evenly matched.

"Only a couple of days, kupo.  But while there are other dreamers who have been caught in their dreams for longer than this one, the one dreaming this dream is the closest to your present location, kupo."  Using his impressive ability to shape dreams, he caused a map to appear out of nowhere and indicated where the dreamer was located: in a cave along the edge of the Darkwood Forest just to the east of the city of Baron's Haven.

"So that's where we'll find him?" asked Zander.

"You betcha, kupo!"

However, the group was in for a bit of a surprise the following morning when they said their goodbyes to Jorbalee Bennicut and her new ward Tommy and departed from the Merry Minstrel Inn.  The cave wasn't at all difficult to find, but lounging on a large rock before the cave entrance was a large tiger lazing in the sun.  It languidly raised its head at the sounds of the group's approach, then hopped off the rock and ambled into the cave, becoming almost immediately swallowed by the darkness within.  As Wakuren brought the mule-driven wagon to a halt, he saw a brief legend carved onto the rock the tiger had been laying upon.  It read simply, "THE LEAGUE OF BEASTS."  Off to the right about 30 feet or so was a smaller cave opening in which a horse stood eating hay from a pile before him, apparently unconcerned by the nearby presence of a large feline predator.

"What do you think?" Xandro asked.  "Druid?  Ranger?"

"Let's find out," Thurloe said, dropping down from his horse Horse and pulling his bastard sword from its scabbard - no point in taking any chances with a full-grown tiger in the area.  But as the others likewise climbed off their respective mounts (or the wagon in Wakuren's case), a figure stepped out from the cave the tiger had entered.  It was, inexplicably, the trim-bearded man from the dream they'd observed the previous night, dressed in combat leathers with a longbow and a quiver of arrows strapped to his back.  A golden-feathered owl sat perched upon his left shoulder.

"You're awake!" Thurloe gasped in surprise.

"I...am indeed," admitted the man, puzzled at the stranger's surprise that he should be awake - it was, after all, late morning.  "How may *Viktor the Beastlord* aid you?  Have you need of the League of Beasts?"

"We had come to wake you up," admitted Alewyth.  "We had reason to believe you had become trapped in your dreams."  She gave the ranger a quick explanation of the dream-sickness that had been crossing the small continent and their role in helping awaken those trapped in their dreams.  "Is there perhaps anyone else inside the cave that might be asleep?"

"Well, there's *Bobo*," Viktor admitted.  "And yes, a couple of days ago he started a rather early hibernation.  I thought nothing of it at the time."  He led the group into the cave network, past a timber wolf that looked at them warily and into a back cave where a black bear dozed.  After explaining their procedure, the five dreamwalkers wrapped a headband containing a dreamstone around the dozing bruin's temple, then sat around him in a circle.  As Viktor and his timber wolf *Moonshadow* stood guard, the five adventurers slipped into a gentle slumber, their minds slipping through the dimensions to the Dreamlands.

Mogo was there waiting for them and escorted them to the proper door in the Corridor of Dreams.  "Good luck, kupo!" he said.

Bobo and the dream version of Viktor were still at it.  "You're wearing down!" the ranger taunted.  "You're tiring out!"

"That's not what your mom said last night!" Bobo taunted right back.  The two figures were engaged in a shoulder hug as each tried dragging the other to the edge of the circle, so they could be thrown out and declared the loser of the match.

"Hey!  Bobo!  C'mere a minute!" yelled Thurloe, trying to get the bear's attention.

"In a bit!" called back Bobo.  "First I gotta throw this fool from the ring!"

"'Fool,' huh?" demanded the dream-Viktor.  "It is you who are foolish if you think to vanquish me!"

Alewyth rustled around in her pack, bringing out a few muffins wrapped in a piece of fresh linen.  "I've got honey muffins!" she announced.  "Come and get them, if you're hungry!"  Bobo's head snapped in the dwarf's direction and he was sorely tempted, but at the last moment he concentrated back on the task at hand, pushing Viktor back a few steps towards the edge of the circle.  But the ranger turned to the side and they merely pivoted, remaining pretty much in place.

"How do we wake him?" asked Zander.

"It's pretty obvious he's dreaming about winning the match but he's having a hard time of it," Xandro observed.  "Maybe we should help him to win."

"That would be cheating!" pointed out Wakuren, frowning.

"It's just a dream!" chided Thurloe, activating his _touch of fatigue_ as he patted Viktor on the shoulder.  "Go get 'im, Viktor!" he pretended to cheer as the strength was drained from the wrestling ranger.  Following the logic - and seeing that the dream-Viktor hadn't apparently noticed Thurloe's interference in the match, Zander cast a _ray of enfeeblement_ at the ranger, hitting him broadly in the back.  Viktor seemed to slump and Bobo took full advantage of his foe's weakness to scoot him closer to the edge of the circle.  Wakuren shrugged and cast a _doom_ spell on the ranger as well.

All in all, the attempts at interference piled up and Bobo was able to push his opponent out of the circle, where he fell on his back and didn't get back up.  Alewyth at first feared he might have been hurt but then noticed he was fading from view - as was what little background there was in this dream.  Bobo was waking up and his dream was dissipating all around them like smoke.

One by one the dreamwalkers awakened back in the cave.  Bobo was rousing, although in the manner of most bruins he was taking his time about it.  That was perfectly fine for the adventurers, who all got to their feet and readied their weapons in case the black bear awoke in a less than agreeable disposition - it was never safe to assume with wild animals.  Zander looked over to the cave entrance for Viktor, but neither the ranger nor his wolf animal companion was there where they'd stood guard as the five dreamwalkers went to rescue Bobo from his dreams.  Instead, on the floor of the cave where the ranger had stood, was a piece of paper.  Zander picked it up and read it aloud.  It read:



> Got word of a recent attack - witnesses described a pair of winged lions making off with a couple from the city.  They were heading for the mountains to the north in the general area of Windgate Pass.  Heading there now - join us if you can.
> 
> Viktor




"Where's Windgate Pass?  Anybody know?" asked Thurloe.  Everyone looked expectantly at Xandro, as the bard had been a wanderer before being brought into service to the Queen of Dreams.  But this was further east than Xandro had ever been and the bard shrugged and shook his head.  "Why would he assume we knew where that was?" growled Thurloe, irritated at Viktor for having left them in the dark.

"I think he left the message for me," replied Bobo, yawning and stretching.  "Hey!  I just had a dream about you guys!  ...And something about honey muffins."  A few of the adventurers were taken aback that Bobo spoke just as well in real life as he did in dreams; apparently Viktor or someone else had applied the _awaken_ spell to the black bear at some point in the past, raising him up to human intelligence.

"It sounds like Viktor might need our help," Alewyth replied.  "Do you know where this Windgate Pass is?"  Bobo did and he led the way, giving directions from the back of the mule cart as Wakuren drove the mules forward.  Alewyth rode her dire goat Pyrite and the men rode their horses, leaving the dwarf priestess's horse Mica to follow the wagon led by a rope tied to her bridle.  They went north along the road, up and over hills that got progressively higher the further north they went.

"I didn't see a wagon or anything when we first approached," Alewyth commented.  "Just a horse, and he was gone when we left."

"Yeah, Viktor rides *Blaze* and the rest of us keep up on foot."  He named the other members of the League of Beasts: besides himself and the timber wolf Moonshadow there was *Amber* the tigress and *Celeste* the owl.  After a few moments, Bobo said, "This is Windgate Pass coming up."

As they climbed the steep road they were met by Amber the tigress coming back down from higher up.  "We were ambushed," she said and at this point none of the adventurers was surprised to note she was speaking aloud in perfect Common.  "Blaze is dead.  Viktor's either dead or captured.  The rest of us scattered - we thought it best to escape and regroup; maybe we can attack when they're not expecting it.  But they seemed to know we were coming."  The tiger had long gashes down the side of her left shoulder, from which a pool of blood had matted her fur.  Alewyth immediately dropped from Pyrite's saddle and cast a healing spell on the tigress.  Amber told them the winged lions' cave was just ahead and the group decided they could trust the wounded tigress with their own animals while they went to the cave of the winged lions to go rescue Viktor and the couple taken from the road in the first place.

"Prep spells before we go in," cautioned Thurloe, casting a _shield_ spell upon himself.  Zander cast a _mage armor_ spell followed by an _expeditious retreat_ spell he cast from a scroll.  Wakuren cast the traditional _virtue_ spell upon the frail elf and then activated his _ring of invisibility_, sliding out of the visible light spectrum.  Alewyth cast a _magic circle against evil_ spell upon herself and then a _protection from evil_ spell on Zander, their weakest member when it came to hand-to-hand combat - anything they could do to keep him in the fight they usually did.  Then, deciding they were all ready, they climbed up the slope of the mountain from the side of the road, up to where they could see the shadows of a cave opening ahead.  Bobo accompanied them while Amber lounged in the back of the wagon, her head up and her ears alert for the sounds of danger.

Alewyth heard a low, moaning sound as they got closer to the cave.  It was coming from somewhere either in the cave or nearby but was difficult to pinpoint exactly, for it wasn't constant, but rather started and stopped in random intervals.  Thurloe, bastard sword in hand, stepped boldly into the dark cave and as he did so he could see a ghostly form rise up from the floor, a glowing skeleton covered in tattered robes that flapped in a wind that wasn't present there inside the cave.  The moaning and wailing continued, but now that Thurloe was inside the cave the wails almost sounded like they were coming from somewhere outside.

As a matter of fact, they were - as Bobo quickly figured out.  There was a glass bottle buried in the dirt along the side of the rock wall of the cave opening, and the wind blowing past its narrow lip caused the eerie moaning sounds.  Xandro followed the bear and plugged the top of the lip with a clump of dirt.  The moaning stopped immediately.  "It's a hoax!" he called to the others.

Thurloe had come to the same conclusion himself as the "ghost" rose completely out of the cave floor but then just stood there looking menacing.  He stepped right up to it and poked it with the point of his bastard sword and the blade's illusion-dampening properties caused the undead figure to pop like a soap bubble.  "Just a triggered illusion," he said.  "Probably just meant to keep the locals away."  Zander stepped up beside him and activated the full power of his headband, granting him not only _true seeing_ but the ability to see perfectly fine in absolute darkness.  Thurloe, not so equipped, lit a torch form his pack; he'd used up the last of his sunrods and hadn't thought to replenish his stock.  They could each see there were two passageways lowering down further into other caves in the cavern network, one to the north and one to the west.

But there was also another smaller cave entrance to the north and from it poked a tawny-colored head.  Its feline eyes narrowed at the sight of Xandro and Bobo messing around with its master's bottle and just that quickly it was off and running, charging straight at the bard.  The mountain lion leaped at Xandro, crashing down upon him in a flurry of fangs and claws.  Wakuren popped back into visibility as his shield came crashing down upon the mountain lion's back, allowing Xandro to crawl out from beneath it and struggle back up to his feet.  He pulled out his magic short sword and went on the attack.  Alewyth, in the meantime, regretted having left her sure-footed dire goat behind and whistled for it to come to her.  Pyrite, hearing his mistress's call, departed from the group of riding mounts under Amber's overall protection and the tigress allowed it, knowing the dire goat was a part of this other group in the same way she was a part of the League of Beasts.  Once Pyrite ambled up, Alewyth wasted no time leaping back up into the saddle; with her innate dwarven darkvision she'd have no trouble seeing inside the lightless cave network and now she'd be moving at a much faster speed than her own dwarven legs could ever hope to carry her.

The mountain lion had turned its attention to Wakuren but couldn't get a good grip on the half-orc's metal armor, nor could it find a way past the holy warrior's shield.  Bobo was adding his own teeth and claws to the mix so Xandro backed off, trading his sword for his Dardolian Lute, beginning the chords to his song of courageous inspiration.  Wakuren finally killed the lion by stabbing down upon its head with the pointed bottom of his badge-shaped shield, piercing its skull and slaying it instantly.

Zander started down the natural stone steps to the west, with Thurloe following directly behind and Alewyth astride Pyrite not too far behind them.  Xandro, Wakuren, and Bobo in the meantime checked out the mountain lion's cave, finding it too held a sloping passageway in the back that eventually led them to the same cave to which the northern passageway from the "ghost" cave led.

Turning a natural curve down the passageway, a scene of carnage appeared in Zander's magic-enhanced view: a pair of winged lions bent over the dead form of Blaze, Viktor's horse.  As they ripped hunks of bloody flesh from the horse's carcass, the elf saw the human features on the lion-beasts; that, plus the batlike style of the creatures' wings and the spikes jutting out from the tips of their tails identified the "winged lions" as manticores.  As only one had a shaggy mane flowing seamlessly into a thick beard, the sorcerer took these to be a mated pair.  Without making a sound, Zander reached inside a pocket of his robes and pulled out his _figurine of wondrous power_, dropping it on the soft leather of his boot rather than have it make noise clacking onto the stone steps before him and alert the hungry manticores.  The cooshee expanded to its full, living size in an instant and needed no prompting about his role in this upcoming battle.

"I can smell Viktor - he came this way!" Bobo said at the bottom of the natural stone steps leading into the cave to the north of the one currently occupied by feasting manticores.  There were two more passageways leading further down from this central cave, and according to the black bear's nose Viktor had been brought down the one to the west.  Wakuren and Xandro followed as Bobo sought out the ranger leader of the League of Beasts.

But the manticores by now had noticed the intrusion into their cave network.  The male was the closest to the natural steps and leaped up them, eager to tear into Zander.  But there was a cooshee in the way determined not to let that happen and the two clawed at each other in wordless fury.  Seeing the narrowness of the passageway - there would be no getting past the manticore to enter fully into the cavern where Blaze's body now lay - Alewyth activated the _amber amulet of vermin_ she wore around her neck, causing a giant bee to manifest in the air before her.  "Attack!" she called out to the bee and its wings buzzed furiously as it flew over the cooshee to try to impale the male manticore with its stinger.  Thurloe didn't care how cramped the fighting space was; he stepped up behind the cooshee, ready to strike with his bastard sword as soon as he found an opening to do so.  Zander sent a _scorching ray_ spell over the fighter-wizard's head, crashing into the manticore and eliciting a roar of fury.  But Alewyth saw it a lost cause trying to get in there to aid any further in this particular battle and urged Pyrite forward, heading down the northern passageway to meet up with the others.

"There he is!" called out Bobo, rushing over to one of two cages along the back walls of the cave to which his sense of smell had led him.  Viktor lay unconscious inside the cage, built of sturdy limbs and branches bound tightly with ropes and vines.  Another cage held a human woman, also unconscious but with a manacle around one ankle, binding her to the bars of her cage by a chain.  Bobo started chewing at the vines, trying to free his friend.  Wakuren approached, somewhat worried that the captors hadn't place a manacle around Viktor's ankle - might that mean he was dead?  But then why place him in a cage?  He reached a hand in between the bars and touched the ranger's throat, giving a sigh of relief when he felt a pulse.  He then channeled a healing spell through his hand, healing the worst of the ranger's wounds.  This also had the effect of waking him up and he sat up, confused in the flickering light of Xandro's torch - for of the members of his own group assembled in the cave, the bard was the only one who couldn't see in the dark and had lit a torch to remedy that problem.

"Wha--?" sputtered Viktor, looking around.  "Where'm I?  Where's Celeste?"  Alewyth approached about that time and started breaking through the young woman's cage with _Sjondra_.  After smashing through it enough that she could release that end of the chain, she fed a healing potion to the unconscious woman and learned her name was *Jacinda*.  "Where's *Lurec*?" the young woman asked immediately, explaining Lurec was her husband and they had both been taken by the winged lions together.  Alewyth promised they'd look for him but was silently discouraged that he hadn't been placed in either cage; she wondered if the manticores might have already eaten him before starting in on the horse.  Bobo, in the meantime, promised Viktor he'd have him out of the cage soon.  "Celeste's out looking for help," the bear explained.  "She'll be back soon."

"Want Celeste," Viktor whined.  Wakuren frowned, as this was not at all the demeanor of the battle-hardened ranger they'd met earlier that morning.

The male manticore, by this time, was almost dead.  He'd been trading claw-scratches with the cooshee and would have already slain the elven dog if he had been the only foe to worry about.  But even though getting hit by a few flung spikes from the female manticore in the cave below, Thurloe had been doing a fine job carving up the bearded male with his bastard sword and Zander had been casting ranged spells from far enough back he was in little danger himself.  Then there was that blasted bee, flying about the manticore's head and trying to sting him; it hadn't succeeded yet but it was quite distracting.  The manticore made the mistake of trying to swat it out of the air with a massive forepaw and while his attention was thus diverted - even just for a moment - Thurloe stabbed his blade into the beast's heart, killing him.

As the male crashed to the ground, Zander had a nice shot of the female manticore and let fly with another _scorching ray_ spell, catching her in the flaming blast straight on and causing her fur to singe from the blazing heat.  Without missing a beat the cooshee scrambled over the male manticore's corpse and charged at its mate, his fangs bared.  The female manticore found herself grappling with the elven dog as Thurloe ran down the stone steps to join in the fight, the blade of his sword red with the blood of her slain mate.

Zander didn't give the female manticore much time to live and decided he'd likewise do fine to move on, leaving the cleanup of this particular battle to the trained fighter, the elven dog, and the giant bee.  He followed the other passageway north and caught sight of the others helping free the people in the cages - and was then hit in the shoulder by an arrow that came whizzing up from another passageway leading north from the cage chamber.  With the darkvision provided by his magic headband he could see the sniper was an elf like himself, only one garbed more like Viktor in leather armor.  "We've got intruders!" the archer called back in Elven to someone in the cave down there with him.

Wakuren had moved on to explore a farther passageway, turning himself invisible again through the power of his ring.  The passageway was narrow, not wide enough to allow two people to walk side by side, and all of a sudden there was a blur ahead of him as a night-black creature came bounding up the stone steps to crash into Wakuren, not even knowing the invisible half-orc had been there.  Wakuren brought his shield crashing down onto the back of the summoned yeth hound, bringing himself to full visibility again in doing so.  Xandro, alerted to the sounds of combat from that direction, followed Wakuren's path and soon saw the two of them struggling to slay each other.

Alewyth cast a _spiritual weapon_ spell, sending a warhammer of solid force flying down the passageway to crash into the elven archer who had just shot Zander.  She slapped Pyrite's flank as she did so, telling the dire goat to return back to the other animals.  She'd dismounted to free Jacinda from her cage, but now that there was full-blown combat afoot she didn't want her goat to be slain.

Thurloe finally slew the second manticore after a fierce battle, cutting a sideways gash along the beast's neck that proved to be her undoing.  Then, seeing nothing of interest in the manticores' den besides the half-eaten corpse of Viktor's horse Blaze, he followed the side passageway to the cavern with the cages.  The cooshee and the giant bee followed.  Once there, the elven dog raced down the passageway, eager to tear into the elven archer.  However, there was a hidden pit trap on the floor just before where the archer, *Randalvael*, stood, covered in an illusion that blended seamlessly with the rest of the cavern floor.  Landing on a section of floor that wasn't actually there, the cooshee plummet down 20 feet to the bottom of the pit, his fall somewhat broken by the bodies of the swarm of spiders lairing down there.  Randalvael hadn't taken any chances on the spiders escaping, either; a permanent _repel vermin_ spell along the top of the pit's interior walls took care of that.

The cooshee howled in pain as dozens, if not hundreds of venomous spiders bit at his flesh; Zander stopped the pain by calling out the command word to revert his trusty elven hound back to his statuette form.  He'd have to remember to go pull him back out of the pit after they'd dealt with this elven ranger who was apparently in league somehow with the manticores.

Randalvael shot arrows at Alewyth, trying to either slay her outright or at least prevent her from casting any more offensive spells at him.  But in the meantime, his sister *Kaernadasha* followed the course of the yeth hound she'd summoned and saw Wakuren and Xandro fighting off the ebony canine - and now Thurloe came into view as well, attracted to the sounds of combat.  That was too good of an opportunity to miss out on, so she cast a _lightning bolt_ spell up the passageway, over the yeth hound's back but blasting into both Wakuren and Thurloe, the bard having dodged out of range at the last moment.  Then, to add insult to injury, the little follow-on arcs of electricity still flashing across his metal armor, Wakuren felt the yeth hound grab up his ankle in its teeth and bear down, trying to trip the half-orc into a prone position where it would have a better time ripping out the cleric-paladin's throat.  But Thurloe slew the yeth hound before it had a chance and the summoned creature departed the Material Plane for its own infernal regions.  Xandro applied some healing to the fighter, whose numerous bleeding wounds indicated he could undoubtedly use it.

Alewyth's _spiritual warhammer_ continued swatting at Randalvael, giving the dwarven priestess time to approach him with her own warhammer in hand.  Keeping mentally aware of the pit trap's location, she brought _Sjondra_ slamming into the elf's side.  He grunted, tossed his longbow to the side, and pulled out a melee weapon of his own: a gleaming, black-bladed longsword that somehow managed to look evil.  Behind her, Zander read the words to a _shocking grasp_ spell from one of his many purchased scrolls, imbuing his hand with electrical energy he could deliver at a mere touch.  He stepped beside Alewyth and lashed out at the enemy elf, but Randalvael easily avoided the sorcerer's touch, bringing his blade into Zander's side as he did so.  The elf felt not only the pain of the wound but a familiar energy-sapping sensation as the sword channeled some of Zander's life-energy into Randalvael.  The evil ranger's equally evil smile distinctively told what Randalvael thought about having a magic sword that provided him with the stolen life-energy of his opponents.

With the yeth hound gone, there was nothing preventing Wakuren from rushing down the steps and bringing his shield slamming into Kaernadasha.  She took the slam with much better grace than the half-orc would have thought possible for a skinny elven wizard, until he realized she'd probably had time to enhance herself with a _stoneskin_ spell.  Thurloe was down into the lower chamber right after Wakuren, but he was immediately brought to immobility by a _hold person_ spell cast by the elven wizard.

Knowing his mistress's _hold person_ spell was a temporary measure at best, *Podkin* stepped through the _illusory wall_ hiding the cave in which the elven siblings stored their treasure and flew up to the frozen fighter's shoulder, biting at his neck and hoping to inject enough venom into Thurloe's system to send him crashing to the floor, asleep.  But Thurloe, even immobilized, was made of tough stuff and the homunculus's venom failed to force him into undesired slumber.

Alewyth knew a one-on-one fight against a foe whose life-draining weapon put the odds in his favor was a losing proposition, so she brought _Sjondra_ swinging in against the ranger's vampiric blade, hoping to sunder it away.  Her first attempt failed, as did her second, and to make things worse Randalvael not only kept a knowing smirk on his face while he evaded her blows, he got in a couple of hits himself, healing his own wounds from those he was inflicting upon the dwarven priestess.  But at least her _spiritual weapon_ managed to clock the arrogant elf a few times before it winked out, its duration spent.

Xandro followed Thurloe's path into the elves' den.  Wakuren cast a _cure light wounds_ spell upon himself and maneuvered into position so the bard could catch the wizard between the two of them.  But then Kaernadasha cast a _Melf's acid arrow_ spell at the burly half-orc, catching him full-on in the chest and stomach, coating his armor and the skin at his neck in burning acid.  Wakuren cried out in agony as the acid burned through his flesh and he hurriedly cast more curative spells on himself in a desperate battle to outpace the damage the long-lasting acid was doing to his skin.  This kept him preoccupied long enough that - coupled with Thurloe's inability to overcome the _hold person_ spell by force of will - left Xandro up against the elven wizard and her homunculus familiar all by himself.

Zander finally managed to touch Randalvael and discharge his _shocking grasp_ spell into the evil ranger.  However, the vampiric blade flashed out again, drawing sustenance from one elf and channeling it into the other and most of the sorcerer's work had been undone in that short a moment.  Alewyth tried swatting the weapon from his hand again to no avail and convinced herself she'd have to take him out the much harder way, by beating him in battle without first depriving him of his vampiric weapon.  Disappointed in how quickly his _shocking grasp_ spell had been neutralized - and realized staying in close-quarters combat with the elven ranger was just offering himself up as a source of stolen life energy - Zander backed off, opting to go with much safer strategy of lobbing _magic missile_ spells at the ranger from a distance.  But that just allowed Randalvael to concentrate more fully on attacking Alewyth with his vampiric blade.

Xandro dodged around Kaernadasha, getting in a strike from his _frost short sword_ from an unexpected angle and making it through her _stoneskin_ defense.  The wizard staggered back and cast a _bear's endurance_ spell on herself, something she'd normally do _before_ entering battle, but this time she'd not had enough forewarning.  And to be caught fighting in melee against a hated _human_, of all things - disgusting!  It was bad enough they bred like rabbits and had pushed the other races out of the way when quietly taking over the continent, but having to stoop to combat with what looked to be a human bard, of all things?

Podkin switched over to attack Xandro, seeing him as more of a threat to his mistress than the still-immobilized Thurloe, whose forehead was now dripping with sweat at the attempts to unlock his own mobility from the spell that damned elf had cast on him.  The homunculus snapped its teeth at Xandro's throat but the nimble bard managed to duck aside just in time.  Wakuren, still staggering from the acid coating him, shambled into a half-hearted attempt to strike the author of his misery with his shield and that allowed Xandro to sneak in again with a rapid thrust of his blade, once again chopping away at the elven wizard's _stoneskin_ defense.  At this pace, he hoped to have whittled it away to nothing in no time at all.

Another flurry of _magic missiles_ came flying at Randalvael, who cursed at Zander in their shared tongue, little liking the fact he had no defenses against the spell while still having to deal with the dwarven priestess before him.  Zander's _magic missile_ spells were doing a fairly good job at balancing the scales against the ranger's vampiric blade, for the sorcerer's spells were dealing out more damage than Randalvael could replenish through attacking Alewyth with his black-bladed longsword.  And over on the other side of the cavern, Wakuren breathed a sigh of relief as the _Melf's acid arrow_ spell finally ran its course, allowing him to concentrate on the attack once again.  He brought his shield slamming into the wizard, finally overcoming the last of her _stoneskin_ protection.  Wanting now nothing more so much as to escape this horrid melee combat, Kaernadasha cast a _fly_ spell in preparation to seeking safety in the skies outside the cavern network she and her brother had set up as a means of capturing humans and selling them as slaves to races near and far - bugbears, gnolls, it mattered not to the elves.  Xandro and Wakuren each attacked her as she flew past them, heading for the passageway her summoned yeth hound had taken.  Podkin followed, snapping ineffectually one more time at Xandro as he passed the bard.

But then, just as it seemed they were going to get away, Thurloe finally freed himself from the wizard's accursed spell.  She was too far away for him to be able to catch up to her, but she was still within visual range in his torchlight, so he raised a hand, pointed at her flying form, and cast a _magic missile_ spell of his own, to the accompaniment of Xandro's tune of courageous inspiration, for once the wizard had gotten past him the bard decided his best role was to aid his friends who could still fight their attackers.  Kaernadasha fell to the stone floor of the cavern in a lifeless heap, much to Thurloe's pleasure.  With a gasp, her homunculus followed suit, its unholy life dependent upon the life force of its mistress.

Alewyth was still relying upon _Sjondra_ to try to take out Randalvael, and the elf was starting to look the worse for wear, but then he activated an as-yet-unused power of his vampiric sword and the blade infused his whole body with positive energy, healing him completely.  Astonishment - perhaps even bordering closely on despair - crossed Alewyth's face as she realized they were effectively starting their combat all over again, with all the work they'd put into wearing him down having been for naught.

Zander reacted by upping his combat spells from _magic missile_ to his last _scorching ray_ of the day.  He howled in disappointment as the rays struck the side of the stone wall of the passageway, missing the ranger entirely.  Randalvael laughed aloud at the frustration on the faces of his foes.  "What do you expect, hanging out with _humans?_" he taunted in Elvish, dripping disdain upon the final word in his sentence.

But now that Kaernadasha had been taken out, Wakuren had nothing preventing him from making his way to Randalvael and attacking him from the other side.  The evil ranger found himself in the middle of a pincer maneuver, with Wakuren's shield slamming him in his back (and very nearly toppling him into the spider pit, but the ranger kept his balance at the last moment) while Alewyth kept up the assault with _Sjondra_ at his front.  And now Thurloe cast another _magic missile_ spell of his own at the ranger.  He was still new enough to wizardry that he could only manage a single missile per casting but he deemed it him doing his part from so far away.

Xandro continue playing his lute; it was getting pretty crowded around the ranger slaver.  And Randalvael knew just how close he'd been to falling into the spider pit.  Wheeling around to face Wakuren, he sent his black blade cutting into the acid-scarred half-orc.  "I see the blood of humanity has made you even less worthy of life!" he snarled in the Elven tongue, but his words were meaningless to Wakuren, who didn't even understand the language of his unknown orcish father's people, let alone Elven.  He pretty much figured out the ranger's overall meaning, however, just from the look of disgust on his face.  He tried grabbing the ranger's wrists to see if he could fling him into the pit, but Randalvael was too nimble for such a slow-moving attack by a man in heavy armor for it to have too much of a chance of success.

But Randalvael soon learned that turning his back upon Alewyth was a bad idea.  She lowered _Sjondra_ to her side and charged at the ranger's back, hitting him just above the beltline with her shoulder.  He dropped his sword as he plummeted into the pit of spiders and only Wakuren grabbing Alewyth by the shoulder prevented her from falling down after him.  He cursed and shrieked as the spiders swarmed over his body, biting him countless times in mere seconds.

"We can throw you down a rope and haul you out of there," Wakuren offered.  "But we'll be turning you over to the authorities in Baron's Haven for your kidnapping scheme."  He received only Elven cursing for a response.  Thurloe wandered over to the edge of the pit and added, "And we killed the woman with you, in case you were wondering."  Randalvael's response was cut short by the spiders climbing into his mouth as he tried to talk.  Judging by the silence that followed, it didn't take long for the venom to claim his life.

Alewyth picked up the vampiric sword and brought it with her over in the cave the elven siblings had used as their own personal lair, judging from the two cots lined up along the back.  She dropped it on the stone floor of the cave, then used _Sjondra_ to sunder it into pieces.  The magic warhammer not only shattered the blade into shards, it absorbed them into itself.  Alewyth knew that as it absorbed magic weapons it would slowly be gaining in power itself, although the abilities of the weapons it destroyed in that fashion would have no bearing on its own future powers.

Thurloe scraped his bastard sword along the back wall until it found and shut down the _illusory wall_ spell that had been hiding the siblings' treasure cave.  While he and Xandro went inside to see what all it might contain, the other three looked at the other few items in the outer cave.  There was a small table and two chairs, upon which sat a journal of some sort and a magic wand in the middle of being recharged.  The writing in the book was in the Elven script; skimming through it, Zander saw it was a record of transactions the elves had made selling human slaves to various other races - some of them apparently living on nearby islands off the coast of the small continent of Armaturia.

Alewyth, however, was more interested in the small barrel along the wall opposite the cots.  Lifting the lid, she was surprised to see it about a third full of water - and half a dozen frogs.  A _detect magic_ spell showed the frogs were all magical in nature somehow, which didn't make a whole lot of sense until Zander worked it out from notations in the journal: Kaernadasha used _baleful polymorph_ spells to turn their human captives into frogs, which were then delivered to their new buyers, at which time she would undo the effects of the magic.  Among the chests of coins, spellbooks, and the gear just recently confiscated from Viktor (the latter of which would be returned to the ranger), Thurloe and Xandro discovered a transport device made of a wooden bucket with a sealable lid, no doubt the means by which the frogs were carried by the manticore to their new masters before Kaernadasha returned them to human form - and a life of slavery.  Unfortunately, while the journal detailed the humans by number and how much they were sold for, no specific names or their current locations were provided.

On the plus side, the wand was able to restore the six frogs back to human form.  One of them was Lurec, Jacinda's missing husband.  He was the most recent addition to the barrel of frogs; Kaernadasha's current mastery of wizardly spells only allowed her to cast one _baleful polymorph_ spell each day.

By the time the group returned back to the cage cavern - now accompanied by six additional people - Bobo had chewed through the vines keeping Viktor imprisoned inside the cage.  He stood dazed and blinking in confusion, until an owl flew into the cavern and alit upon his shoulder.  "Celeste!" Viktor cried out in obvious relief, returning to his normal self now that his owl friend had returned.  "I found Moonshadow," the owl said and sure enough the wolf trotted into the cavern.  "And Amber told us you were already in here."  The rescued humans huddled behind the adventurers in fear at the presence of the lupine carnivore, but Moonshadow just sighed.  "Quit worrying," he said.  "I don't eat people."

Celeste explained Viktor's condition to the adventurers as the rescued captives gathered together around Jacinda (the young woman especially pleased to see her husband safe and sound) and Xandro removed the manacle from around her ankle with the aid of his newly-purchased lockpicks.  Viktor, it turned out, had suffered a head injury beyond their ability to heal properly and since then had suffered from a much diminished intellect.  Fortunately, Celeste was not only a celestial owl but had studied wizardry and was able to telepathically communicate with the ranger, feeding him his lines to the point where he seemed almost like he was before the accident.  Of course, this was only possible as long as the celestial owl maintained contact with the ranger; once separated, Viktor was without his advisor and reverted to his lower level of intellect.

"I think it high time we returned these good people to Baron's Haven!" declared Viktor, once more seeming like his own self.  The group departed the cave network, glad to be out of its shadows and once more under the bright sun.  They got a bit of a surprise when the tigress who was supposed to be guarding their riding mounts was nowhere to be seen.  In her place was a short-haired blonde woman, wrapped in a blanket.  But then she dropped the blanket and pitched forward out of the wagon, landing on all fours and once again resuming her tigress form.  Alewyth had heard of druids of sufficient power and training being able to attain the forms of animals - she was pretty sure it was called "wildshaping."  The weretiger thought she could guess the dwarf's assumptions about her but said nothing.

The captives were loaded into the back of the wagon and Wakuren turned the mules around back the way they had come, in the direction of Baron's Haven.

 - - -

The authorities of Baron's Haven gave a reward of 2,000 gp for the rescue of the captives and the taking down of the elven slavers, which was split evenly between the two groups.  Viktor allowed the adventurers to keep the elves' loot taken from their cave as a reward for having rescued him, which contained two vials of _Keoghtom's ointment_.  Zander was also sure to retrieve his _jade cooshee_ from the spider pit, and they also managed to claim Randalvael's _boots of elvenkind_ and _cloak of elvenkind_.  The players haven't decided who gets what yet, but while it would probably cause Randalvael to roll over in his grave if they allowed one or both of the humans to make use of the elven racist's items, Zander will likely end up with both.  We'll see.

 - - -

T-shirt worn: I have a shirt with a wolf superimposed on an American flag in the background, so that was the one that made the most sense to wear during a session involving a league made up primarily of beasts, especially when one of them was an awakened timber wolf.


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## Richards (Jan 2, 2022)

*ADVENTURE 23: LAND OF THE WILD MOOGLES*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 5​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 2​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 2/paladin 3​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 4/rogue 1​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 5​
NPC Roster:
Calliope, moogle guide​Doc, moogle guide​Kupek, moogle guide​Mogchamp, moogle guide​Moki, moogle guide​
Game Session Date: 1 January 2022

 - - -

As was the norm during their nighttime training sessions in the Dreamlands, as each member of the five-person band fell asleep and had their consciousness make the automatic transition to the Realm of Dreams, they were each met by their particular moogle guide: Calliope meeting up with the dwarven priestess Alewyth Putterpye; the goateed moogle Doc greeting the human Thurloe Pulver, who was versed in arcane magics as well as handy with a bastard sword; Kupek approaching Wakuren as the half-orc cleric-paladin entered the Dreamlands; Mogchamp leading the human bard-rogue Xandro Silverstrings to their normal meeting place; and Moki doing likewise with the elven sorcerer Zander Quilson.  However, while normally the moogles would bring their respective charges together to be taught the nightly dreamwalking lessons by the head moogle, Mogo, this time they hung around with the dream versions of the five mortals in the service of the Queen of Dreams.

"Tonight we're going to do something different, kupo!" Mogo remarked once the five dreamwalkers were gathered together with their moogle guides.  "Twice now you've come up against dreams that resisted your best efforts to rescue the dreamer, kupo.  With any luck, the dreamstones you left on the dreamers' foreheads will charge up, allowing you to go back later on and have better luck - but we can't count on that, kupo!  So we're going to try going into the heart of the Dreamlands, kupo!"

Mogo explained that the heart of the Dreamlands lie past the vast ocean of dream-bubbles representing individual dreams of individual dreamers and was a land of fairly stable geography that resisted the reshaping efforts of those entering the land - unlike individual dreams, which could be altered by a sufficiently trained dreamwalker, the heart of the Dreamlands was immutable.  Some said this was due to it actually being the dream of a sleeping god, someone much more powerful than the moogles or their trained visitors from the Material Plane.  But Mogo hoped the stable nature of the area would work to their benefit, for there was a place there in the heart of the Dreamlands where any individual dream could be called up and analyzed; with luck, by observing the two dreams of giant monsters - a three-headed gorynych in one and a massive gorilla in the other - they might learn how best to overcome the dreams and free the two people trapped by them.

"But because the heart of the Dreamlands is so stable, there's a change I need to make here before you embark on your journey, kupo!" declared Mogo, waving a kittenish paw before the bodies of the five dreamwalkers.  As he did so, their bodies changed, altering from their normal mortal frames and taking on the appearances of moogles themselves.  Each now sported a humanoid body covered in downy fur, with a pair of batlike wings growing from their shoulders and a single pom-pom dangling at the end of an antenna growing out of their foreheads.  They were each now about half their normal height, but with enough wing-flapping they could maintain an aerial position where their eyes were about where they'd have been before their transformations.  They found wing-flapping to grow easily tiring, however, and thus frequently dropped to the ground for a rest before trying it again.  Their moogle guides all seemed to have no trouble maintaining their altitudes, so apparently with enough training the polymorphed mortals would pick up the hang of it.

"You're going to the land of the wild moogles, kupo!" Mogo informed the group at large.  "They're not as smart as we are, but they know enough not to attack a fellow moogle so they should all leave you alone, kupo!  But you'll need to be careful, because not everyone in the heart of the Dreamlands is a fan of moogles, kupo!"

"Interesting," observed Xandro, giving his new wings a try.  He was glad to see his equipment was all the same; despite now wearing the form of a moogle he still had his Dardolian Lute strapped to his back and his sword belted at his hip.  He looked over at the others and saw the same held true for them as well; despite their new forms the bard knew he'd have no trouble telling them apart.

"It'll take forever to go through the oceans of dream-bubbles, so we'll take the shortcut, kupo!" announced Mogo, leading the group of ten other moogles to the Corridor of Dreams.  This was a maze of door-filled hallways but the primary moogle instructor had no trouble finding the exact door he sought.  He opened it and it led not to a dream but to a set of stairs going down.  "It's much quicker if we go through the basement, kupo!"

The basement level was another set of seemingly endless corridors, but Mogo led the group to a dead-end hallway that sported a thick, wooden door looking much older than the others and somehow even a bit weather-beaten.  He opened it and flew to one side.  "I won't be going with you, kupo - I have too many other duties here - but your guides know the way, kupo!  I'll expect you to report back what you find upon your return, kupo!"  And with that he ushered the ten moogles through the open doorway, closing it behind them once they had all passed through.

On the other side of the door was an ancient city now in ruins.  The ten moogles were at street level among a vast array of crumbling walls and fallen pillars, all of it covered in tangling vines and thick growths of ivy and weeds.  The buildings around them were all of a single level; in the distance a few structures of two or even three stories could be seen.

"We need to head toward the mountains, kupo!" said Calliope, leading the way forward through the ruins of the fallen city.

"Hang on," said Zander.  "I want to cast a few spells before we go any further."

"_Kupo!_" cried Moki in a stern voice.

Zander was taken aback.  "What?" he asked.  "Isn't spellcasting allowed here?"

"_KUPO!_" echoed all five of the moogle guides.  "Remember to say 'kupo' at the end of your sentences, kupo!  There's no point in disguising you as a moogle if you're just going to give yourself away, kupo!" chided Moki, before answering his assigned mortal's question.  "But yes, you can cast spells here, kupo."

Zander hurriedly cast a _mage armor_ spell upon himself.  Xandro cast a _tongues_ spell on himself, not certain what types of creatures they might find in the land of the wild moogles and deciding it would be nice to be able to communicate with whoever they might encounter.  Thurloe tried casting a _shield_ spell but fumbled it; he was still getting used to being able to cast arcane spells while wearing armor and this wasn't the first time he'd messed up this same spell.  He cursed quietly to himself, then remembered to add a "kupo" at the end.  Then the group moved on, the five moogle guides remaining airborne on their tiny little wings and the other five alternately flying and walking in fits and bursts as their wings gave out.  Collectively, they decided it would be best if they didn't try to fly too high off the ground until they got the hang of it a little better.

As the ten moogles ambled down the silent streets of the long-dead city, a form strode into the intersection ahead of them.  It was simian in shape, maybe a foot and a half or two feet long, and when it turned its head in their direction they saw it looked somewhat like that of a mole with stubby, dangling tentacles hanging from its mouth area.  Unlike a mole, its eyes were rather large and they glowed fiercely as the creature gazed at the ten moogles - and then it charged.

"Uh oh - it's a zoog, kupo!" called out Calliope, flying up higher out of reach of the furry creature.  It bit Thurloe on the leg and the fighter-wizard in moogle form felt the zoog's unseen teeth dig deep into his flesh - the creature wasn't all that big, but its bite certainly hurt!  He kicked the creature away and felt a trail of blood oozing down his leg from the bite wound.  He brought his bastard sword out and down upon the zoog's head, cutting it deeply and dealing it much more damage than it had managed to inflict upon him, he felt.  But the thing was still in the fight, hissing fiercely.  Beside Thurloe, Doc followed Calliope's lead in flying straight up, but he continued on whereas the female moogle had just wanted to avoid the zoog's reach; Doc wanted a good aerial view of the area to make sure there weren't any other threats converging on them.  For Doc well knew where there was one zoog there were quite often others around....

Zander cast a _magic missile_ from his wand and slew the zoog before it had a chance to do any further damage.  He moved up beside Thurloe, who was reaching down to feel the bite wound on his leg.  "Damn thing's still bleeding...kupo," he added at the last moment.

"Might be something in the saliva, kupo," Alewyth added, moving closer to look at Thurloe's wound.  Wakuren flew up and landed on the fighter's other side, while his moogle guide Kupek joined Doc in scanning the local area from a high vantage point.  Xandro stayed in the back but pulled out his Dardolian Lute and began strumming the opening chords to his song of inspirational courage, for Mogchamp had warned the bard there were probably more of the zoogs around, waiting to strike.

And sure enough there were: eight of the little creatures spilled out of an L-shaped building to the group's left front while another half-dozen came rushing out of a gap in the wall of the crumbling building to their right.  They swarmed over Thurloe, five of them biting at him with teeth hidden by their stubbly little facial tentacles while two other pairs bit at Wakuren and Zander, those snapping at the elf fortunately missing entirely.  Thurloe's sword stabbed at one of the pests attacking him then took a step back, temporarily out of range.  He now had three or four new wounds to add to his original one, blood from all of them flowing freely.

Zander also took a step back and tossed a tanglefoot bag at two of the zoogs, hoping to pin them in place.  But the zoogs were quick little buggers and they avoided the bag; it exploded around them and some sticky particles got caught up in their fur, causing them only the minor inconvenience of not being able to move quite as rapidly as before.  Alewyth brought _Sjondra_ down on the head of one of the ones biting at Thurloe and it squeaked in pain and irritation.

"I've got a _sound burst_ spell ready if you all step back, kupo!" called out Wakuren, looking around him and worrying that were he to cast his spell right then, in order to affect the maximum number of zoogs he'd have to include quite a few of his friends in the spell's area of effect.  In the meantime, he swung the edge of his shield at one of the little pests, striking it a glancing blow.

Xandro continued his song as Thurloe hit another zoog and backed up out of range.  Alewyth did likewise, conking a zoog with her warhammer before retreating beside Thurloe.  Zander cast an _expeditious retreat_ spell on himself and darted away through a rent in the wall of a building on the other side of the street, putting a stone wall between himself and Wakuren's intended spell-effect area.  Then Wakuren cast his spell, the sonic wave blasting through the bodies of all but the two zoogs the farthest away and stunning over half of them - quite effective for a rather low-level spell, the half-orc thought to himself.

Doc and Kupek, however, saw another figure in a street one block over.  It was a human girl dressed in rags, looking to be only about six or seven years old.  Fearing she might hear the commotion and wander into danger, Kupek flew over her way and landed on the street before her.  "Be careful kupo--" he started to say but the sudden appearance of the moogle apparently frightened the girl, who gave a little shriek and then turned and bolted back the way she had come, dodging into a small building through a rent in its wall.

Xandro rushed forward, his _frost short sword_ in hand, and skewered one of the stunned zoogs, killing it.  He got bitten for his trouble by another zoog, as a few of those not stunned by Wakuren's _sound burst_ spell likewise snapped at Alewyth, Thurloe, and Wakuren.  Now all but Zander Quilson sported bleeding wounds, the nimble elf having managed not to even have gotten bitten once yet.  But he sped through the building in which he'd been hiding, popping out of a northern entrance and catching six zoogs in a _burning hands_ spell, frying them all to a crisp.  Thurloe and Alewyth each killed another with their respective weapons, as did Wakuren and Xandro a moment later.  Then Alewyth and Wakuren backed off, allowing the others to slay the remaining zoogs while they cast healing spells on those who needed them, for zoog bites didn't deal a whole lot of damage at first but the continued blood loss - from each individual wound - certainly started adding up in no time at all.

Kupek reported to the others what he'd seen of the little girl and led the rest of the moogles to the building she'd ducked into.  "She went in there, kupo," he said, pointing with a kittenish paw.  The building was partially in ruins, with three entrances in all.  The moogles spilt up and covered each of the entrances.  "Are you okay in there, kupo?" called Thurloe into the darkness within.  "We're not going to hurt you - we just want to make sure you're okay, kupo!"  There was no answer.

Doc peeked his head inside the ruined structure and didn't see any little girl - but he did spot a spider on the ceiling along the north wall and quickly told the others.  Wakuren poked his own head inside and saw the aranea just fine with his darkvision.  Using his paladin training to check her aura for evil, he found none.  "We'll leave you alone, kupo," Wakuren said.  "If you've a taste for zoogs, there's over a dozen dead ones a block or so to the southwest, kupo."  And with that, the group continued on their trek.

They made it through the rest of the ruined city without incident, reaching at last the base of the mountains.  It would have been an arduous climb ahead of them had it not been for the set of wide stairs carved into the side of the mountain.  "It's up this way, kupo!" said Calliope, leading the way.

Of course, even a nice, 20-foot-wide set of stairs started becoming a bit arduous after the first half mile or so.  Each of the five adventurers started giving their moogle wings a good workout, if only because the steps had been built at a scale more comfortable for their mortal forms, not these half-sized moogle bodies they were currently inhabiting.  Little moogle legs got pretty tired climbing step after step after step.  There were statues on alternating sides every 40 feet or so, but these had been subject to the effects of time, for some were missing a head or an arm and others had had their features weathered away over the centuries.  There were spaces where the stairs had worn away or had otherwise been broken, making for the occasional patches of somewhat problematic terrain.  But that's where moogle wings came in handy.

"Uh oh - look there, kupo!" called out Mogchamp, pointing off to the open air to the right of their position - the mountain they were laboriously climbing stood to their left - where five flying figures could be seen.  They were headed straight for the group of moogles.

"What are they, kupo?" asked Zander.

"Nightgaunts, kupo!" answered Moki.  As the figures got closer, the group could see they looked somewhat like slender gargoyles - only gargoyles without any facial features whatsoever, their faces as smooth as some of the wind-scoured statues on the steps they'd passed.  Each also sported a lengthy tail as black as the rest of the smooth-skinned creature.

"Are they normally found around here, kupo?" asked Alewyth as Thurloe frantically cast an _expeditious retreat_ spell upon himself, wanting the extra mobility and not trusting his little moogle wings to reliably provide it.

"Not until recently, kupo!" Calliope answered, and then there was no more time for further discussion as the five nightgaunts barreled in to the attack.

There were twice as many moogles as there were nightgaunts but despite having no visible sensory organs the nightgaunts seemed to have no trouble at all differentiating which of the moogles before them were real and which were impostors.  Without exception, each of the black-skinned gargoyles made a bee-line for the five dreamwalkers in temporary moogle disguise.  Each struck out with a clawed hand ending in fearsome talons.  Those attacking Alewyth and Xandro managed to scoop their victims into a tight embrace, leaving them all but helpless to attack and unlikely to break free from the much-stronger nightgaunts.  Thurloe, Zander, and Wakuren managed to avoid being swept up, but not all avoided the initial talon-swipe that drew first blood in this sudden melee.

Zander managed to stagger to the side away from his attacker and cast a _scorching ray_ spell into it, blasting it in a gout of flame.  Thurloe attacked his with his bastard sword, drawing blood but no indication of pain on the nightgaunt's part - without facial features it didn't wince or grimace at the wound inflicted upon it by the fighter's blade.  Alewyth and Xandro tried unsuccessfully to wrest free of their abductors' grasp, while Wakuren took a moment to examine the auras of the nightgaunts.  Seeing them devoid of the taint of evil, he called out to them, "Can you communicate with us?"  He had forgotten to add the "kupo" but at this point it was fairly evident they could tell true moogle from fake in any case.  He got no response but when he saw the two embracing Alewyth and Xandro take back off the way they had come, the half-orc realized there would be no point in fighting off the remaining three - best they all stayed together.  As a result, he lowered his shield to his side and stood rigid, telling the nightgaunt, "There's no need for us to fight.  We surrender.  Go ahead and take us where you will."  He allowed the nightgaunt to wrap its arms around him and fly off, headed in the same direction as the other two.

Zander looked over at Thurloe, not sure if he liked this idea.  "Are we doing this?" he asked.

Thurloe estimated the speed at which the nightgaunts were flying and determined it was faster than the moogles could fly - and he didn't trust either his or Zander's ability to stay aloft for very long in any case, plus it was a long way down to the ground from this altitude.  He sighed and sheathed his sword.  "Yeah, I guess we are," he said, allowing the nightgaunt to gather him up and fly away with him.  Zander did likewise and the nightgaunt he'd burned with his spell wrapped his arms around the sorcerer and flew off with him.  The five moogle guides followed at their best speed, and after a little while it became apparent the nightgaunts had slowed their own speed to allow the moogles to catch up with them.

After a brief flight, which the adventurers spent with their faces crushed to the chests of their nightgaunt captors, they were deposited on a ledge overlooking a mountaintop.  The five moogles fluttered to a halt beside them as the nightgaunts flapped their leathery wings and took to the air again, their mission complete.  They soon disappeared behind another mountain peak, lost to view.

"Hey, wait a minute, kupo!" cried Calliope, looking around.  "This is where we were headed in any case, kupo!  The dream-viewing pillars are inside that cave there, kupo!"  She pointed at a cave opening at the other side of the ledge, a full 15 feet wide and about 10 feet tall, leading into darkness.

And then a figure stepped out of the darkness of the cave opening.  As he advanced into the sunlight, all five moogle guides gave a unified gasp of surprise and disbelief.  The figure stood a good eight feet tall, with crooked antlers spreading out like a crown of tree limbs around his vaguely bull-like head.  He wore metal armor around his massive chest, while the lower part of his body was obscured by cloth robes that reached to his cloven-hooved feet.

"The *Nightmare King*, kupo!" gasped Calliope.

The antlered figure ignored this outburst, looking over at the five interlopers to the Dreamlands.  He waved his hand in the same manner as Mogo had earlier and the moogle disguises were rent asunder; each adventurer now stood looking like they did back on the Mortal Plane.  "You work for the Queen," snarled the Nightmare King, a sneer of contempt on his black lips.  "Your efforts will prove ineffectual against me," he warned.  "But by all means, go inside and see for yourselves.  You will at least learn something of what you're up against, for all the good it will do you."  And then he crossed his arms against his barrellike chest and faded from view, leaving only a hearty laugh behind which echoed for a moment and then was silent.

"So who's this Nightmare King?" demanded Thurloe.

"He's...we thought he was only a legend, kupo," admitted Doc, gulping nervously.  "Every so often, a herd of nightmares - those black horses with the flaming manes and hooves - goes racing through the ocean of dream-bubbles, turning the dreams into frightful, menacing nightmares for the dreamers involved, kupo.  There's always been talk that there was a Nightmare King behind it all, but the Queen of Dreams has always believed it to be just that, a legend and nothing more, kupo."

"We'll have to let her know it's more than a legend, kupo," pointed out Moki.

"Definitely, kupo," confirmed Mogchamp.

"Well, let's go see what's in the cave," decided Thurloe.  "If we're going to report back to her, it might as well be a full report."  He took a step towards the cave and stopped at the entrance, allowing his eyes to adjust to the gloom.  Without being asked, Doc cast a _dancing lights_ spell over the fighter's head, causing little balls of illumination to circle in place above his head like a halo.  The other four moogles did likewise for their own counterpart dreamwalkers.

Thurloe stepped into the cave, his bastard sword back in hand.  Off to his right was a pile of well-chewed bones, while straight ahead the floor dipped in a series of natural flowing steps, leading further down into darkness.  "Be carful, kupo," warned Doc, following his mortal partner.  Then, his innate darkvision allowing him to see farther into the cave than could Thurloe's human eyes, he called out, "Two wild moogles, kupo!"

"Where?" demanded Thurloe, who couldn't see them in the darkness at the back of the cave.

"There and there, kupo!" answered Doc, pointing with his kittenish paws.  "They won't attack us, but you five no longer look like moogles, kupo!"

Zander moved up beside Thurloe, Moki hovering right behind him.  The elven sorcerer cast a _bear's endurance_ spell upon himself, anticipating a near-future need.  He squinted into the cave, struggling to use his innate elven low-light vision to see further into the cavern than Thurloe could.  He could make out some sort of feline form - and then it was upon him!

The two wild moogles - a mated pair - rushed forward, charging into Thurloe and Zander.  Each was about the size of a black panther, albeit one sporting a pair of batlike wings and a single pom-pom from a thin antenna sprouting from the forehead.  Unlike the kittenish moogle guides, these seemed to be of no more than animal intelligence - and hungry animals at that.  Sharp claws ripped across the two dreamwalkers' chests. those ripping through Zander's robes dealing more damage than those scraping across Thurloe's heavier armor.

Alewyth and Wakuren reacted immediately with the same response and a pair of _spiritual weapons_ manifested in the air in front of them and then raced to attack the two feline foes, the warhammer from Alewyth striking the male attacking Thurloe and the heavy mace from Wakuren swinging (and missing) the female attacking Zander.  Seeing the somewhat cramped fighting space along the natural stone steps leading down into the larger cavern, Xandro started his song of inspirational courage on his _Dardolian lute_.

Thurloe's bastard sword swung into the male wild moogle's shoulder, eliciting a yowl of pain from the winged panther.  Zander had cried out in a yowl of pain himself from the female's attack with her claws; dropping the _figurine of wondrous power_ at his feet and barking out the command word, he stepped back as the _jade cooshee_ grew instantly to life and protected his elven master.

The male, angered at the sword-slice he had received, batted its claws at Thurloe and bit at him with the impressive set of fangs in its wide mouth.  The female did likewise to the cooshee before it, drawing parallel grooves of blood across the elven dog's back and side and clamping down on its neck with its wicked teeth.  In a matter of mere seconds the cooshee was already on its last legs.

Alewyth's _spiritual warhammer_ dipped down and struck at the male wild moogle, just barely missing.  The dwarven priestess opted to add another spell to the combat, casting a _summon nature's ally III_ spell that brought a celestial black bear into being directly behind the female currently savaging the poor cooshee.  The bear swiped its claws against the female wild moogle's flank, causing it to howl in surprise and pain.

Wakuren slipped past the wild moogles, accepting a strike from the female's claws as the price for him to get where he wanted to be: namely, directly behind them.  Then, positioned where he figured it would do the most good, he cast an _obscuring mist_ spell, enveloping both wild moogles on the edges of the spell's area of effect.  That, he figured, would make it more difficult for the winged felines to see their intended prey.  In the meantime the half-orc's _spiritual heavy mace_ swung and missed the female wild moogle for a second time.

Xandro brought out his light crossbow and sighted a shot at the male wild moogle, catching it in the shoulder.  Thurloe compounded its pain with another well-placed strike with his bastard sword, then stepped back, forcing the wild moogle to come to him to continue his own attacks with tooth and claw.  Zander cast a _scorching ray_ spell at the female who had clawed him up, while his loyal cooshee pressed on with his own attacks despite his terrible wounds.  But the elven dog's attacks were his last, as the wild moogle ripped his throat out a moment later and he collapsed back into his _jade cooshee_ form.

Alewyth's _spiritual warhammer_ clonked the male wild moogle but good on the head while she cast a _bless_ spell on the assembled group.  "You guys are doing great, kupo!" called out Calliope from the back ranks where the five moogle guides had assembled, staying well out of range of the combat.  They, after all, were mere dream guides, not used to having to fight for their lives.

The celestial bear attacked the female wild moogle again, causing her to leap fully out of the area of _obscuring mist_ and whatever unknown creature lived within there.  She focused her attacks upon Alewyth, who now stood before her.  Wakuren took a moment to heal himself with a _cure light wounds_ spell enhanced by the power of his ring, then dismissed his _obscuring mist_ spell which wasn't quite the impediment he had hoped it to be.  With the mist dissolved and his own _dancing lights_ spell orbiting above his head, he could see a pool of clear water off to his right.  Thurloe by this time had taken an incredible amount of damage from the wild moogle's teeth and claws and Xandro stepped forward, casting a healing spell though his Dardolian Lute to seal up the worst of the fighter's wounds.  Thurloe stepped further back and cast a _magic missile_ spell at the wild moogle while he caught his breath.

Another _scorching ray_ flashed out from Zander's fingertips, hitting the male wild moogle this time.  The celestial bear stepped forward, continuing its attacks upon the female wild moogle.  Wakuren activated his _ring of invisibility_ and tried slipping past the wild moogles again, hopefully to set himself up for a flanking maneuver with one of his friends.  It was then he learned that wild moogles have quite excellent senses, for despite his invisibility the female was able to discern his exact location and claw him along his side as he moved past into position.  His _spiritual heavy mace_ swung and missed for a final time before winking out, causing the half-orc to swear at its complete uselessness during this particular casting of the spell.

His healing successfully completed, Xandro stepped back and grabbed up his crossbow again, shooting another bolt into the male wild moogle.  Thurloe then struck the killing blow with his bastard sword, glad to have finally seen the end of the vile beast.  Zander cast a _magic missile_ spell at the remaining wild moogle while her focus was still on Alewyth, who was now facing the snarling beast with _Sjondra_ while her _spiritual warhammer_ got in a final blow before winking out as well, its duration having expired.  Wakuren popped back into visibility as he brought his shield crashing down on the female wild moogle, even as the celestial bear clawed her from the other side.  Xandro shot a bolt into her side and then Thurloe once again gave the killing blow, his bastard sword cutting deep into her flesh.  She crashed to the stone floor of the cavern as the celestial bear vanished from sight, returning to whatever heavenly plane it had come from in answer to Alewyth's summons.

"Great job, kupo!" enthused Moki as Alewyth and Wakuren cast healing spells upon the wounded.  Calliope led the moogles into the lower cavern, where a small opening on the far side of the pool of water led to the cave they sought.  Wakuren caused his _rope of climbing_ to attach from a stalagmite next to the pool of water with one end to a hanging stalagmite in the far cave with the other, providing a means of entry for those not currently sporting moogle wings.  Alewyth, not trusting herself climbing along a rope, guzzled down a _potion of gaseous form_, drifting across the pool and sliding through the opening to enter the far cave.

Thurloe and Doc were the first ones into the cave and the moogle gave out a cry of disbelief.  "It's been shattered, kupo!"  Sure enough, the back half of the cave was covered in shards of broken rock and there were two flat-topped ovals showing where the dream-viewing pillars had once stood.  A pair of sheared-off projections from the ceiling directly overhead showed where the pillars once connected.  "The Nightmare King made sure we couldn't use the pillars to affect those two dreams, kupo!"  Anguish was clearly noticeable in the elderly moogle guide's voice.

And then as Thurloe stepped fully into the cave and Wakuren came in, invisibly, behind him, Doc called out a much quieter warning: "I saw something moving over behind the ruins of the farthest pillar, kupo!"  Thurloe looked to where the moogle had indicated and saw the shape of a reptilian head glide to the side.  As it slithered forward and raised its head, Doc called out, "It's a hypnalis viper, kupo!"  Knowing these to be of mere animal-level intellect as well, Doc used a _speak with animals_ spell to communicate with the serpent.  "Why are you here, kupo?" he asked.

"I am the reception committee of the Nightmare King," replied the serpent.  "I am here to give the Queen's interlopers the reception they deserve."  And then the serpent lashed out, striking forward with such speed it almost seemed to float across the room, snapping its venom-dripping fangs at Thurloe, who only managed to barely avoid the creature's bite.

By then Zander had climbed into the cave and cast a _magic missile_ spell at the serpent.  Wakuren leaped forward and brought the bottom edge of his shield crashing down upon the serpent's back, returning himself to visibility as he did so.  Xandro entered the cave behind the elf and took up his song of inspirational courage, hoping to boost the combat prowess of those already involved in fighting off the massive snake.

Thurloe felt the bard's magic aim his strike as he brought the blade of his bastard sword slicing through the serpent's scales.  But then the snake was upon him, biting his neck and sending its venom coursing through the fighter's blood.  Worse yet, it kept its hold on Thurloe's neck and wrapped him up in the coils of its sinuous body, squeezing the very life out of him in the manner of a constrictor snake.

Zander cast a _ray of enfeeblement_ spell at the hypnalis viper, hoping to weaken its grip upon Thurloe, but the ray missed the writhing snake altogether.  Alewyth maneuvered her cloudlike body directly over the snake and released the _gaseous form_ spell effect, returning her to solid matter and allowing gravity to boost her swing of _Sjondra_ at the snake's head.  It was a good thought, but the warhammer also missed its mark as the serpent thrashed around with its prey.

Wakuren slammed his shield into the snake again and Xandro stepped up to the fight with his _frost short sword_ before the snake's prey simply...wasn't there any more.  Pinned tightly by coils of muscle he knew he couldn't overcome, Thurloe had used his magical _anklet of translocation_ to _dimension door_ himself 10 feet away from the serpent.  But the serpent wasn't particularly picky about its targets and randomly chose Xandro as its next victim.  It struck at the bard with the quickness of a cobra, injecting venom into his neck as it wrapped the coils of its body around the bard and started squeezing the breath from Xandro's body.  While part of Xandro's mind was reminding him this was all just happening in the Dreamlands and if he was "killed" here he'd likely just wake back up on the Mortal Plane, it was one thing to know that dispassionately and another thing entirely not to want to panic at the inexorable crushing of the hypnalis viper's sinuous coils....

Zander cast another _magic missile_ at the serpent, falling back on a spell he knew he couldn't accidentally miss with.  Alewyth hit it with _Sjondra_ as Wakuren bashed it with the edge of his shield and Thurloe applied his own weapon to the fight.  And eventually their combined efforts were successful and the hypnalis viper lay dead before them, its muscles relaxing in death to the extent Xandro was able to pull himself free.  He held a hand to the wounds at his neck, where the viper had bitten him and injected him with its venom.  "Let me look at that, kupo," said Mogchamp, frowning at Xandro's wounds.

The moogle guides spent a lot of time examining the viper's fangs (and the drops of venom dripping from them), as well as Xandro and Thurloe's wounds, to the point they had Alewyth and Wakuren hold off casting healing spells on the two until their examinations were complete.  "What's the concern?' asked Thurloe, frowning in puzzlement.

"This isn't good, kupo," replied Doc.  "This isn't good at all, kupo."

Calliope pulled the snake's mouth back so the others could get a good look at its fangs.  "Do you have something we can put some of the venom in, kupo?" she asked and Alewyth unpacked an empty glass vial that had once held a magical potion.  As the two women busied themselves extracting venom for further study, Moki picked up the discourse.  "You know how dreamstones are found on the Mortal Plane but can affect things here in the Dreamlands, kupo?  Well, it seems the Nightmare King has found a way to create a creature whose venom, here in the Dreamlands, can affect people in the Mortal World, kupo."

"You mean--?" broke off Xandro, holding a hand to his neck wounds.

"I mean, kupo, that if that venom had run its course there's a very good chance you'd have ended up in a dream coma like the other victims you've been rescuing, kupo," replied Mogchamp.

"Then heal me!" cried Xandro, and at Calliope's nodded acceptance Alewyth cast a healing spell on the bard's wounds.  Wakuren meanwhile did likewise to Thurloe's wounds.  Then, no longer bearing any puncture wounds on their necks and hoping the injected venom had done all it was going to do - Xandro felt a little woozy but not all that much the worse for wear - they decided they'd seen all they needed to see here.  It was time to return back to the Queen of Dreams and report back what they'd seen.

"She's not going to believe this, kupo," Kupek said.

"We all saw what we saw, kupo," Moki replied.  "She'll believe us, kupo."

"And at least we now know what's causing the dream sickness," Alewyth added.  "But what's the Nightmare King getting from all of this?  And how do we stop him?"

Those were good questions, but nobody had any answers for now.

 - - -

This turned out to be a good adventure to run on New Year's Day, as it gave some answers to what's been going on in the first quarter of the campaign.  And it was different enough - an adventure taking place entirely in the Dreamlands - that running it on our traditional New Year's Day session made it kind of special.  I printed out NPC stats for the five moogle guides, so for this adventure each player ran their normal PC as well as their own moogle guides.  And I made up special initiative cards for this adventure, too, incorporating the PCs' heads cropped onto a moogle body.

The zoogs were a lot more fun than I had anticipated, for despite their bite only dealing 1 point of damage (1d3-2), they continued to bleed for 1 point per round until healed and each wound added separate damage.  Thurloe took the record by having a condition of "bleed 6" at one point, so it became necessary to break off combat for a round to apply healing to those who might otherwise bleed out - that was a fun aspect that hasn't really come into play before.

And after we were done playing through the adventure and packing up, we headed upstairs to our living room and did our Christmas gift exchange, as has been our ritual for the past dozen years or so.  (Dan and Vicki and family usually spend Christmas with various out-of-state relatives.)  So all in all it was a good session, although we got the worst snow of the winter thus far and needed to shovel the driveway so Dan, Vicki, and Joe could head on home afterwards.)

 - - -

T-shirt worn: My Einstein shirt, which has him blowing colored smoke from a pipe which forms galaxies above his head  - it's my "go to" shirt to represent the Dreamlands.


----------



## Richards (Jan 20, 2022)

*ADVENTURE 24: HYENA ARENA*

PC Roster: 
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 5​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 2​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 2/paladin 3​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 4/rogue 1​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 5​
Game Session Date: 15 January 2022

 - - -

"I'm just saying," Thurloe Pulver continued.  He was sitting in the front of the wagon beside Wakuren, who held the reins to the mules.  Thurloe's horse, Horse, was tethered to the back of the vehicle by a rope and was plodding along, while the others rode their own mounts behind the wagon.  The road was little more than a mere suggestion by this point; Wakuren steered the mules over a shallow creek to stick to the smoothest section of land in a small gorge.  On either side of them, some distance away, the rocks rose up ten feet or so.  Scrub brush was everywhere, as well as a few stunted trees here and there.

Thurloe pressed on with his argument.  "Lots of adventurers have a name for their groups.  I just think we need a name for ourselves."

"I'm not inherently opposed to the idea," Wakuren said.  "I just don't know if I want us to be known by that particular name."

"Why not?  'The Pulverizers' is a great name!"

"For one thing, it makes it sound like you're our leader," piped up Alewyth from her dire goat mount.  "And I'm not sure if you realize it, but you're not."

"It also sounds inherently violent," Wakuren added.

"We are!" countered Thurloe.

"Some of us try not to be.  I don't even carry a weapon for that very reason."

Fortunately for the half-orc, their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a little girl calling from behind a clump of heavy scrub ahead and to the right.  "Hey, come over here and take a look at what I found!" the voice said.  "Leave your animals and weapons behind, you won't need them - it's safe!"  Along with the little girl's words, the heroes could feel a distinct twinge in their minds, trying to compel them to obey the implanted _suggestion_.

But the minds of the five dreamwalkers were tougher than that.  "Well, that's not at all suspicious!" scoffed Thurloe, pulling the bastard sword from the scabbard on his back.  Xandro notched a bolt into his crossbow and steered his horse White over to the right, since there was no room to pass it on the left.  Off to his right was another clump of thick scrub brush and it was from behind there that the first wave of ambushers made their presence known.  A humanoid hyena-man rode astride a dire hyena the size of a draft horse while behind him ran a hyena of a more standard size.  Xandro got a shot off at the gnoll as the dire hyena bit at White, catching the upper part of the horse's right front leg in its jaws.  Its bite prevented White from bucking but the dire hyena was unable to bring the horse to the ground.  At the same time, the gnoll was busy making hand gestures and barking out gruff syllables that the bard recognized as some sort of spellcasting; sure enough, a dire badger suddenly appeared before the mules and bit at Mica's legs.

And that was apparently the signal for the rest of the ambushers to make themselves known.  Up on a ledge to the right, eight gnolls popped up from behind a ring of boulders and scrambled to the tops of the rocks, pointing their shortbows down at the adventurers and their mounts.  Four arrows went flying down at the wagon, narrowly missing both Wakuren and Thurloe.  Two more gnolls dropped the clumps of brush they'd been holding up to shield themselves from view up on the ledge to the left and brought their own shortbows to bear.  Another arrow went whizzing past Thurloe's ear while one more actually hit Wakuren, only to be deflected by the half-orc's metal armor.

Zander pulled the _jade cooshee_ from his pocket and dropped it to the ground, activating it with a command word.  The elven dog sprang to life, took in the situation in a moment, and raced for the dire hyena.  His master brought his horse Eddy around to the right of the wagon to get himself into a better position.  Thurloe, in the meantime, leaped down from the wagon - which Wakuren had brought to a halt given the dire badger in the way of their progress - and raced into battle, bringing his blade down on the summoned creature clawing at Mica.  He activated his magical _torc of the titans_ to increase the power of his swing.  The dire badger hissed in pain at the blow and foamed at the mouth in outrage.

Alewyth jumped down from Pyrite and slapped her dire goat on his hindquarters to get him to flee back the way they'd come - she wanted him out of danger, especially given the presence of several carnivorous predators.  Then she made a quick prayer to Aerik, God of Protection, for a _bless_ spell to guide her friends' attacks against these gnolls and their animal companions.

It was at this point the "little girl" made an appearance: dashing out from behind the camouflaging bushes came a hideous creature with the head of a badger, the body of a hyena, and the legs of a stag, the whole thing as big as a riding horse.  "None of you came to see what I found!" it pouted in its eerie, little-girl voice.  Then its voice changed to sound more like that of one of its gnoll companions.  "So I guess we'll have to do this the hard way!"  It pranced forward, making a bee-line for Thurloe, still in combat with the summoned dire badger.

Wakuren cast a _spiritual weapon_ spell and sent the heavy mace of force energy flying up to harass the gnoll archers up on the left ledge.  Mica kicked out at the dire badger as the hyena bit at White, just as the horse had extricated himself from the jaws of the larger beast while the dire hyena fended off the attacks from the cooshee.  Xandro, fearing his mount was soon to be wrestled to the ground and not wanting to be thrown prone as well, leaped from the saddle onto the back of the wagon.  White panicked and fled, joining Pyrite out of harm's way - and Xandro breathed a sigh of relief.  But then the gnoll druid leaped from his dire hyena mount and followed the bard into scampering up onto the back of the wagon, foregoing any spellcasting to bring his battleaxe swinging into the bard.  Xandro just barely ducked in time, while Zander cast a _magic missile_ spell at the gnoll druid.

The dire hyena bit the elven dog and grappled him down to the ground, tearing at the cooshee's throat, while behind them the dire badger took another bite at Mica's leg.  Thurloe, Wakuren, and Xandro all found themselves targeted by the gnoll archers on the ledge to the right, some of them coming a bit too close for comfort.  With a mighty struggle, the cooshee regained his footing - only to have his throat ripped out by the dire hyena's powerful jaws.  But if the massive beast had been looking for a meal he was out of luck, for the cooshee merely reverted back to its statuette form and fell to the hard-packed earth.  It didn't get long to mourn its lost meal, however, for Alewyth was upon it, striking with her dwarven warhammer _Sjondra_.

Tapping into the power of his magical torc again, Thurloe slew the dire badger with his bastard sword; as a summoned creature, it disappeared back to wherever it had been called from by the gnoll druid.  It was no longer blocking the path of the mules but neither of them was eager to move forward and close the distance with the approaching leucrotta; on top of that, Mica's right front leg was bleeding heavily where it had been savaged by the badger's teeth and he hobbled awkwardly in place.

Thurloe and Wakuren were each hit by an arrow shot by the archers on the the ledge to the left (one of them fleeing to the side to avoid the half-orc's _spiritual heavy mace_); Wakuren managed to deflect the arrow off his shield.  But by then the leucrotta had crossed the span and was snapping its wicked teeth at Thurloe, who was hard-pressed to keep it at bay.  Wakuren turned his attention to the eight gnoll archers over on the far ledge and cast a _wind wall_ spell across the front edge of the embankment, just in front of the boulders upon which the gnolls were perched.

Alewyth now found herself in the unenviable position of being the primary target for both the hyena and his larger cousin; she wisely focused her attention on the greater threat, making sure those wicked jaws didn't get a hold on her.  Over on the wagon, Xandro spun about and stabbed the druid through the midsection with his _frost short sword_, killing him instantly; he pitched off the side of the wagon to fall dead in the dirt.

Another volley of arrows came streaming from the eight gnolls to the right, only to have them suddenly swerve upwards as a result of the _wind wall_ spell Wakuren had cast.  The gnolls grumbled at the unseen effect; unable to determine how far the spell extended they stowed their shortbows and grabbed up their battleaxes, snarling in anger all the while.  Then they leaped down from their boulders and started lowering themselves down the steep slope of the gorge, those passing through the _wind wall_ effect yelping in startlement as their fur was ruffled in the passing.

Zander cast a _scorching ray_ spell at the dire hyena and it fell over to the ground, its fur aflame as it died.  Alewyth took the opportunity to focus her attacks on the druid's hyena companion and crushed its skull with _Sjondra_.  Thurloe used his magic torc for the last time that day to put every iota of power he could into his swing, sending his blade deep into the side of the leucrotta, who spit blood and cried out in what the fighter had to assume was its natural voice, for it was no longer attempting to sound like a little girl or one of its gnoll compatriots.  It snapped its jaws at Thurloe and lashed out at him with his front hooves, but the attacks were slow and sluggish as the creature's life-blood poured out of its side.  But then another volley of arrows came flying down at Wakuren and Thurloe from the left.  "Can't you do something about them?" groused the fighter as an arrow struck him in the arm and veered off, leaving a trail of blood along his bicep.

"I did all I could," Wakuren replied as his _spiritual heavy mace_ took a final swing at one of the gnoll archers, killing him, and then winked out of existence.  "I don't have another _wind wall_ spell prepared!"  But the half-orc ran around to the back of the leucrotta, hoping to catch it in a pincer maneuver while its focus was on Thurloe and his deadly bastard sword.  Xandro wasn't particularly overeager to leave the relative safety of the wagon so he pulled out his _Dardolian lute_ and began strumming his song of courageous inspiration, allowing the magic of his song to guide his friends' weapon-strikes.  It looked like they'd be needing it soon, too, for the gnolls had scrambled down from the rise and were now racing over towards those of the heroes on foot in front of and to the side of the wagon.

Zander was still astride his horse Eddy and sent a _magic missile_ at one of the approaching gnolls; it hit him straight on but the gnoll kept coming.  Thurloe finished off the leucrotta in time to whirl about and face the approaching gnolls, each wielding a battleaxe and wearing a look of battle lust on its muzzled face.  Then Thurloe took another arrow to the shoulder, cursed, and plucked it from his arm.  Alewyth saw the glare Thurloe passed Wakuren's way and cast a _spiritual weapon_ spell of her own, the force-weapon taking the shape of a dwarven war axe.  She sent it flying up at the remaining gnoll archer on the left ridge that was sniping at Thurloe.

Wakuren faced the charging gnolls and cast a _sound burst_ in their midst, causing three of them to slow and stumble to a dazed halt, stunned into inaction.  Xandro set his lute aside in the back of the wagon and leaped back down from it, running up to the gnoll Zander had just hit with a _magic missile_.  His lateral sword-slice almost decapitated the gnoll at the neck and it fell to the ground in an unmoving heap.  But then the other gnolls struck, three of them surrounding Wakuren, the sound of their axe-heads crashing against the half-orc's shield causing a cacophony that echoed throughout the gorge.  Two more gnolls took on Thurloe, but his bastard sword's extra reach managed to keep them at bay.  Zander cast another _magic missile_ at one of the ones fighting Thurloe, merely because he was the closest.  Thurloe's blade wheeled on the other one attacking him, bringing him crashing to the ground in a dead heap.

Another arrow came flying down from the left ledge as the archer there got a shot off between dodging Alewyth's _spiritual weapon_ spell.  It missed Thurloe by no more than a hair's breadth and he swore again.  But then the dwarven priestess charged into battle with _Sjondra_ gripped tightly in her hand, slaying the gnoll Zander had just shot.  Thurloe nodded his appreciation at the assist and turned to help Wakuren take down the three he was fighting.

It took a little longer - especially after the trio Wakuren had momentarily stunned snapped out of it and showed up as a sort of reserve force - but between a _scorching ray_ spell from Zander, Alewyth's warhammer, Thurloe's bastard sword, Xandro's short sword, and Wakuren's shield, the last remaining gnoll ended up being the second sniper up on the ledge to the left.  Seeing the one-sided pile of dead on the ground below him, he opted to high-tail it as fast as he could, fleeing along the ledge in the direction the mule-wagon had been going.  Alewyth's _spiritual war axe_ followed him for as far as the priestess could see him, then returned to her side once the fleeing gnoll was out of sight.

Alewyth went after her dire goat and Xandro fetched White.  Healing spells were applied not only to the heroes in need of them, but also to Mica and White, both of whom had incurred serious wounds during the ambush.  "So now what?" asked Zander.

"What?" asked Thurloe.

"Do we just go on the way we were going, or do we track down that remaining gnoll, the one who escaped?"

"What's one gnoll going to do?" countered Thurloe.

"We don't know there's just the one of them," pointed out Alewyth.  "This might have just been a raiding party from a larger group, and if they're ambushing travelers...."

"Plus, there's those elven slavers," Xandro added.  "They were selling human slaves to other races in the general area.  Could be the gnolls were customers."

"...Fine," grumbled Thurloe.  He was eager to get on with their original goal, to head over to the next dream victim, but he supposed checking out the remaining gnoll wasn't going to take too long.  For one thing, he'd been bleeding from the _spiritual weapon_ strikes from Alewyth's spell; for another, none of the gnolls had been particularly interested in covering their tracks and it wasn't difficult at all to backtrack the way they'd come.  Their trail led inexorably to the mountains in the distance, trailing the main road.  Wakuren was pleased for the mules' sakes that their trail paralleled the road, making pulling their wagon no greater of a burden than necessary.

Eventually, a stone structure came into view at the base of the Shieldwall Mountains.  It was mostly oval in shape, with two main entrances the group could see: a standard-sized one along the long edge of the oval and a much larger set of doors off to the south end.  "It's an arena," Alewyth said.  As they got closer to it and could make out more details, she added, "Dwarven construction, several centuries old.  And consecrated to Thunderwolf, it looks like - makes sense."  Thunderwolf was the God of War, so it was perfectly logical a combat arena would be built in His honor.

"I don't see any guards," said Zander, shielding his eyes from the sun and scanning the arena from one end to the other.

"Gnolls tend to be lazy," Thurloe pointed out.  "Probably think nobody'd dare attack them in their lair."

That turned out to be the case.  The group abandoned their wagon and animals down the road from the arena and cautiously made their way to the dwarven structure.  On the way, Wakuren removed his _ring of invisibility_ and handed it to Xandro.  "Here," he said.  "You've been practicing being sneaky - you ought to wear this."  It was true; Xandro had been expanding his repertoire beyond just singing and playing the lute and the _boots and cloak of elvenkind_ he'd taken from Randalvael the elven slaver were certain to aid him in his sneaking about.  But doing so while invisible was an even better deal, so the bard took the proffered ring and slipped it onto his finger, activating it and slipping from the visible spectrum.

After a brief discussion, the group decided against the larger set of doors to the south, figuring that was the entrance the dire hyena and leucrotta probably used; if there were any more of those beasts around they'd rather not deal with them right away.  The front entrance was flanked by what the group assumed were ticket booths: small rooms jutting out with barred open windows where presumably, when the arena had been active, one could purchase a seat to watch the gladiatorial combats inside.  The doors were stone and neither locked nor barred; Wakuren was able to pull them open without any fuss.  Then the group split up, with Thurloe and Alewyth heading south and the other three heading north.  They ended up on opposite ends of a long hallway and decided to check out the doors accessible along that corridor, discovering a storage area; a sealed treasure vault with mostly empty lockboxes stored along the back wall (although Xandro found one whose contents, for whatever reason, hadn't been emptied after he managed to pick the lock to the vault's door); and an armory where the gladiator weapons were stored.  It was obvious from the empty slots in the weapon racks that the gnolls had raided the armory and were using the dwarven-crafter weapons for their own.

But then the group decided to stick together and went back north.  They found the baths, filled with brackish water, and then, around the corner, a room that had been modified since the dwarves had built the arena long ago: it now had a crude bar preventing the door from being opened from the inside.  Thurloe pulled the bar away and Wakuren opened the door, only to find three human women who were shocked to see someone other than their gnoll captors opening the door.  They explained they were from Baron's Haven and had been captured by the manticores in league with the elven slavers, then sold to the gnolls.  There were three men in a similar room just down the hallway, on the other side of the northern door to the arena.

All of this explanation was given in hushed voices, for the entire southern wall of the women's slave chamber was open to the arena and covered in metal bars to prevent actual access there.  But from the vantage point the group could see another eight gnolls on the arena sands, six of them curled up in sleep along the curved wall of the arena, with the other two talking to each other at the far side of the sands.  Another dire hyena sat near them, while at least two gnoll archers patrolled the stadium seating.  "There's also the Pack Leader," whispered one of the slaves, "but we haven't actually seen her for days now.  She's made the royal box her personal lair."  The royal box jutted out on the west side of the arena, providing the best view of the combats that would have occurred below.

"So what do the gnolls have you do?" asked Zander.

"We prepare their food for them, when they let us out to do so," whispered one of the slaves.

"And when they've been successful in their hunting," another added.  "When the food gets low, they...just take one of us as their next meal."  She shuddered at the memory of the few times she'd seen that occur since her own captivity.

"Well, we're getting you all out of here, and that's a promise," said Alewyth.

"Yeah, eventually," chimed in Thurloe.  "For right now, though, you ladies stay put right where you are.  It's safer here until we deal with the rest of the pack."

"What's the plan?" Xandro asked.

"I think Alewyth and I are going back to the south entrance, ready to pop through the south gate there when we hear the fighting begin.  Zander, you stay here with the women - I assume you can cast your spells through the bars here?"  Zander assured him he could.  "Then Wakuren, you wait here at the door, and Zander'll warn you when he sees the first of the archers go down."

"And me?" asked Xandro.

"You're going to find your way up to the stadium seats there, invisible, and kill the archer.  That'll be the signal for the rest of us to attack."  Alewyth cast _protection from evil_ spells on herself and Thurloe as the two made their way back down the corridor they'd explored earlier and found their way to the south gate.  "And now we wait," whispered Thurloe.

Xandro backtracked the way they'd come, for there was a set of stairs leading up that he was pretty sure led up to the rows of stadium seating.  Sure enough they did, and a quick perusal showed there were just the two gnoll archers among the stone bleachers, the only show of defensive force the gnolls had even bothered with.  He slowly made his way around the stadium counterclockwise, with his _frost short sword_ in his hand and ready for action, counting on his _boots of elvenkind_ and Wakuren's _ring of invisibility_ to keep him from being noticed.

The gnoll archers weren't particularly attentive to their duties; they had their bows out and a quiver of arrows at their backs but neither one had an arrow ready for firing, apparently under the mistaken belief that no one would dare try to infiltrate an entire pack of gnolls and their allied beasts.  The one Xandro was sneaking up on sighed impatiently, hoping the raiding party would be back soon with some food for the larder, because he was getting hungry again and they'd just about finished the last horse they'd been eating.  But then he cried out in pain as a blade pierced his torso, twisted, and was pulled back out again.  The gnoll dropped his bow and staggered forward, fumbling to grab up his battleaxe, as the human who'd stabbed him went in for another sword-strike.

Zander saw the attack from between the bars of the women's cell and whispered to Wakuren that the attack had started.  The half-orc dashed away from the doorway where he'd been waiting and pushed open the doors of the north gate to the arena.  Then the elf took aim and cast a _magic missile_ spell at the other archer over by the south gate.  His sudden cry of pain alerted the two awake gnolls on the arena sands and the dire hyena that something was up; more importantly, Alewyth and Thurloe heard it from behind the south gate arena entrance and pushed the heavy doors open, spilling onto the sands themselves.

There was a sleeping gnoll huddled along the arena wall to Alewyth's right as she entered, and she took the opportunity thus presented to bash his head with _Sjondra_.  But then the dire hyena was on her, snapping with its slavering jaws.  Thurloe had moved to the left when he entered and slew another gnoll who had been sleeping on the warm sands.  Then he too was under attack, in his case by the gnoll archer in the stands above him.  The arrow came close but missed its mark.

The other archer was making a feeble attempt at fighting back against Xandro but the bard's initial attack had all but drained the fight out of him.  Xandro killed him quickly with another stroke of his blade, then looked down to the arena below.  Most of the other sleeping gnolls were awake and grabbing up their weapons (all but one, who was apparently a very sound sleeper), and Alewyth finished off the gnoll she had originally attacked as he tried to rise to a standing position.  Then she had to divert her full attention to the dire hyena.  But Wakuren had made his entrance and three of the gnolls were headed in his direction, battleaxes ready for combat.

Zander fired off another _magic missile_ at the gnoll archer, deeming his ranged attacks made him the bigger threat at the moment.  Alewyth struck the dire hyena with _Sjondra_, causing it to shake its head in an effort to stop the world form spinning around so much.  Then it was back to snapping at the dwarven priestess with its wicked teeth.  But in its fierce concentration on bringing down the dwarf it failed to see Thurloe stepping up behind it, and the fighter's bastard sword cut deeply into its back, severing its spine and killing it.

The gnoll archer couldn't see who was shooting at it with those accursed spells, so he continued focusing his attention on trying to kill Thurloe, who had just slain their beloved animal compatriot.  A pair of gnolls pressed their attacks on Alewyth and another on Thurloe, while over on the other side of the ring Wakuren was fending off three rushing gnolls.  The deep sleeper gnoll had by this time finally awakened and was scrambling to find where he had put his weapons before his nap.

Xandro leaped over the side of the arena wall and landed safely in the sands, then ran over to help Wakuren - who, admittedly, had been doing fine on his own, dodging the incoming axe-strikes or deflecting them off his shield, only  to turn his shield into a weapon as needed, either striking with the flat surface in a bludgeoning blow or hitting with the pointed bottom edge.  But the half-orc wasn't at all displeased to receive assistance and Xandro quickly flanked a gnoll and slew him with one blow from his sword.

Zander continued lobbing _magic missile_ spells at the sole remaining archer, while Alewyth and Thurloe each dispatched one of the gnolls focused on them.  By now the sands of the arena were stained with blood, very possibly the first blood spilled in combat the arena had seen since its disuse many decades ago.  The remaining gnolls gave it their all but it was apparent they didn't have the combat experience of the five intruders.  Those on the sands were soon taken out by hammer, shield, and blades, while Zander finally slew the archer with a _scorching ray_ spell.  And just that quickly, combat seemed to be over.  Zander told the female slaves to remain there just to be safe and ran onto the arena to join his friends.

"What about the pack leader?" he asked them.  "She's supposed to be up there in the royal box.  Anybody seen her?"

Nobody had.  But the reason for this became readily apparent once they had found the way to the royal box and there found a larger, female gnoll fast asleep.  Thurloe, bastard sword in hand and pointed at the pack leader's throat, kicked her in the shoulder to wake her up, but she continued to sleep on.  He tried again, with no better luck.  "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," he said.  "She's caught in the dream plague?"

"So now what?" asked Wakuren.  "We can't just kill her."

"And why not?" demanded Thurloe.  "One: she's the head of a bunch of gnolls who attack travelers and buy slaves.  Two: we don't know why the Nightmare King is trapping people in their dreams, but if we kill her we deprive him of whatever he's getting out of the deal."

"By that logic," argued Alewyth, "we should just kill everyone caught in the dream plague.  Surely you're not suggesting that?"

Thurloe actually gave it a moment's thought; it _would_ actually be somewhat easier....  But finally common sense won over and he admitted, "Okay, no.  But I'm not gonna free her from her dreams just so she can beat us awake and kill us!"

"We'll take precautions," promised Wakuren, pulling out his _rope of climbing_ and binding the pack leader's hands behind her back, before doing likewise with her feet, leaving her hog-tied in the center of the royal box.

"We'll probably want someone guarding us, in case we missed any gnolls," Zander pointed out, and he went to go fetch the slaves.  There were three men and three women, all very pleased to have been freed from servitude and more than happy to guard the dreamwalkers while they performed their ritual, especially after they had been armed with dwarven weapons from the arena's armory.

"Now no attacking the gnoll while we're performing the ritual," Wakuren warned the newly-freed slaves.  "We're hoping to get some answers from her, so we need her alive."

"For now," added Thurloe.  Then the five took their places around the sleeping gnoll, the dreamstones centered on their foreheads and kept in place by the leather headbands Thurloe's Uncle Marten had crafted for them.  Another dreamstone was held in place at the gnoll's forehead with a bandana.  After that, it was a simple matter of slowing one's breathing, one's thoughts, and entering a state of slumber, where the dreamwalkers' minds left their bodies and drifted into the Dreamlands....

"Hey, kupo!" greeted their moogle guides upon their arrival.  They each escorted their respective dreamwalker to the Corridor of Dreams, where Mogo was waiting for them.  "In you go, kupo!" he said, ushering them through the doorway.

At first, they worried that something had gone wrong, for they were right back on the sands of the arena.  But now the seats were all filled with bloodthirsty dwarves, yelling and screaming at the combat being played out in the middle of the arena.  There, bloody battleaxe in hand, stood the pack leader, surrounded by a dozen hyenas who kept dodging in and biting her.  Already, she had bloody patches on her fur where previous bite attacks had succeeded.

And then they noticed something unusual: the pack leader swung her axe and cleaved the skull of a hyena, slaying it instantly.  It fell to the ground, dead, and was they absorbed into the arena sands.  At the same time, another hyena manifested on the outskirts of the battle and darted in to join the pack in worrying their prey.

"When she kills one, a replacement just pops back up," pointed out Alewyth.  "At this rate, she'll never finish fighting!"

"We'd better go help her!" said Wakuren as he ran into battle, slamming his shield into the nearest hyena and sending it flying off to the side.  It yelped in pain but then rejoined the attack against the pack leader.  Some of the closer ones diverted their attacks to the half-orc now in their midst, however.  Thurloe was in no mood to go risk his life to save some stupid bloody gnoll, but now that Wakuren was equally in danger....  "Fine!" the fighter sighed, swinging his bastard sword into the side of the nearest hyena.  He was pleased to see it cut nearly in twain, and even more pleased to see no new hyena showed up as an automatic replacement.  "Looks like when we kill them, they stay dead!" Thurloe called to the others.

"But not when I!" cried the gnoll in frustration as she killed another hyena, just for a new one to arrive at the outskirts of the combat.  They were a bit surprised to hear the pack leader capable of speaking the Common tongue, but whether this was just part of the dream or if she could speak it in the real world was still a matter of conjecture.  "Why they attacking me?"

"Guess they're probably a good judge of character!" Thurloe answered, but he continued aiding the pack leader by swinging his bastard sword into as many of the hyenas as he could, one after the next.  The gnoll continued slaying hyenas as well, but hers kept coming back; only those slain by the adventurers were permanently removed from the arena.  Eventually, all of the hyenas had been slain and the dream started to fade away, first with the cheering dwarves dissipating, then the stadium itself, until the group was standing on an ever-shrinking piece of sand....

When they all awoke, the pack leader was still tied up and still, but her former slaves had resisted the impulse to kill her.  The five dreamwalkers snapped back awake, one at a time, and Thurloe went to examine their prisoner.  "You able to speak our language?" he asked her.

"Yes, some."  She looked up at the fighter and a look of recognition was caught in her eyes.  "You were there.  In dream.  Fighting."

"Yeah, you're welcome for that, by the way."

"Was there ever a big snake in the arena, in your dream?" asked Wakuren.  He was eager to find out if the dreamers actually ever saw the hypnalis viper the Nightmare King apparently slipped into people's dreams to put them into the dream coma.

"No, no snake - only hyenas," replied the pack leader.  Then, muttering to herself, she said, "Is a sign.  Hyenas shouldn't attack.  Should be allies.  Something very wrong."

"You think there was no viper, or she just didn't see it?" asked Zander.

"No way to tell," replied Xandro.  "It could have attacked her from her blind side, or it might not have even looked like a viper at the time.  Maybe it took the form of one of the hyenas."

"Well, what are we going to do with her now?" Alewyth asked.  "I won't kill a bound enemy."  And then, as Thurloe opened his mouth to offer his services, the dwarf cut him off with "And I won't let you, either."

"Fine," replied Thurloe.  "So we let her loose in the arena and cut her down there."

"I don't think that will be necessary," Wakuren said, reaching over to untie the ropes binding their captive.  "I sense a crisis of faith occurring."  As the others steeled their weapons for the inevitable attack once the half-orc released the pack leader from her bonds, Wakuren just smiled and said, "I don't think we have anything to worry about from her."

He turned to face the gnoll leader.  "If we let you go free, I don't expect to hear you've taken up your old ways," he informed her.

"No," agreed the gnoll.  "Dream say to me: you on wrong path.  We return to the old ways: hunt for our food, follow the game."  She looked around the royal box.  "No arena.  No slaves.  No...lazy ways."

"And no tribe, either," Thurloe pointed out.  "We killed all of your pack.  You're on your own, sweetheart."  The gnoll flinched at that, but getting to her feet and looking down over the arena sands to the signs of the carnage below gave her ample evidence the human wasn't kidding.

"Then I go," she said, and Wakuren made the others allow her to leave.

"You're just too soft-hearted," Thurloe chided him.  "She hooks up with another pack of gnolls, she'll be right back to her old ways."

"I don't think so," countered Wakuren.  "With any luck, she'll convert them to her new way of thinking."  Then he turned to the slaves they'd freed.  "Where are you from?" he asked them.  The majority of them were from Baron's Haven, or heading in that direction.  The adventurers took them with them when they exited the arena, then showed them which way to go when they came up to the main road leading to Baron's Haven.

"Our way leads in the other direction," Wakuren told them as they headed east.  The six thanked the group again for their rescue (and their dwarven weapons), and then the two groups went their separate ways.

"So," Thurloe said to Wakuren as the mules pulled the wagon to the east.  "Where were we?"

"What do you mean?" asked the half-orc, incomprehension on his puzzled face.

"'The Pulverizers' as our adventuring name!" Thurloe gushed.  "It's great!  It shows we mean business, that we're not to be trifled with!"

"That one of us has an entirely too high opinion of himself," added Alewyth from her dire goat.

"I'm not using it in any of my ballads," Xandro pointed out.

"You guys have no sense of taste," grumbled Thurloe, and was thankfully silent for the next hour or so.

 - - -

I used two separate Paizo Flip-Maps for this adventure: one of the "Ambush Sites Multi-Pack" and an old arena map I'd never used before.  Of course, I had to design the ground-level support rooms that led to the arena itself, but that was kind of fun.  The adventure was just "okay," though, in my mind, in no small part because of the very limited monster palette I used.  In hindsight, I probably should have figured a way to incorporate a few different other monsters so they weren't fighting the same stuff all session, but the group seemed to like it okay.

 - - -

T-shirt worn: My "Chaotic evil means never having to say you're sorry" T-shirt, which represented the chaotic evil gnolls.


----------



## Richards (Feb 5, 2022)

*ADVENTURE 25: RINDICANE'S WINDOW*

PC Roster: 
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 5​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 2​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 2/paladin 3​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 4/rogue 1​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 5​
Game Session Date: 29 January 2022

 - - -

The sounds of pounding hooves on the road behind them caused Alewyth to wheel her dire goat Pyrite around.  Wakuren sat at the front of the wagon with the reins of the two mules in his hands, while Xandro, Thurloe, and Zander each sat astride their respective horses.  But any concerns that this might be an attack were diminished at the sight of the man riding up to them: he was a thin human, dressed in the robes of a wizard, but young enough it was unlikely he had gotten very high up in the ranks of the arcane spellcasters and his bookish demeanor hinted he was more at ease inside a library than out combatting adventurers like themselves.  Still, their hands strayed close to their weapons and Zander brought the words of a _magic missile_ spell to the forefront of his brain, ready to fire if the man made any threatening moves towards them.

But the stranger did not.  Instead, bringing his horse to a slow trot beside them, he called out, "Are you by any chance the people who know how to wake others from their dreams?"

"We are," Alewyth confirmed hesitantly.

"Ah, very good!" cried the man.  "My name is *Mandorregan*.  I believe I may have need of your services, then!  I have 250 pieces of gold if you would be so kind as to accompany me to my friend *Rindicane*'s keep, where I fear he may have fallen into one of those dream-coma things you're so adept at overcoming."

"We're on our way to awaken our next dream victim," Wakuren replied.  "Where is this keep?"  Mandorregan explained it was about two miles from their present location, in the Darkwood Forest to the south.  Wakuren frowned, for their way led further east; it wasn't like the moogles to have missed a dream victim.  "Are you sure he's in a dream coma?" the half-orc asked the young wizard.

"In truth, I am not.  However, I have tried contacting Rindicane for the past several weeks, with no luck.  His servant is unable to contact him, and Rindicane would never leave for a great length of time without informing his servant of his intentions or his whereabouts.  I heard about your exploits in Baron's Haven, where I learned of the dream sickness.  It would explain his inability to reply to _whispering wind_ spells."

Wakuren looked over at the others.  "What do you think?" he asked them.

"Sure," agreed Alewyth.

"Fifty gold apiece," pointed out Thurloe.

It was soon agreed they would accompany Mandorregan to Rindicane's keep and see if they could find him and wake him.  On the way there, the young wizard filled them in on what he could of his friend.  Rindicane was a studious wizard like himself, although he was particularly interested in the creatures existing on other planes.  And his keep was protected by his servant, a stone face on the door he referred to as a grandfather plaque.  "I've argued with it until I'm blue in the face," complained Mandorregan, "but it refuses to allow me entry, even though I've pointed out Rindicane might very well need our help."

When they approached Rindicane's keep, several things stood out about it at once.  First of all, there was a pair of stone lions in the front of the building, each life-sized, the one on the left looking quite normal and the one on the right sporting a pair of feathery wings.  There was an indentation in the front surface of the ground floor of the building between the two stone lions, and hanging on the door inside that recession was another stone carving, this one of the face of an elderly gentleman, bald but with a full beard.  And at the top of the building, in the middle of its third floor, was a large window of stained glass, seemingly a myriad of overlapping geometric shapes colored in all shades of the rainbow.  The top floor had a balcony that jutted out just below the window, with a metal rail preventing those on the balcony from falling off.  A closed door leading into the building could be seen on the right side of the balcony.

As Wakuren brought the mules to a halt before the stone lions the grandfather plaque open its eyes.  "Hello, Mandorregan," it said in a pleasant voice.  "What can I do for you?"

"You can let me in so I can see if Rindicane is okay," the young wizard replied.

"One minute please; I'll see if the Master is taking visitors."  The grandfather plaque closed its eyes for a moment, then opened them again and said, "I'm sorry, but there is no response from Rindicane and he left explicit orders not to let anyone in without granting his express permission beforehand."

Wakuren climbed down from the wagon and approached the front door.  "Careful," advised Alewyth, who had cast a _detect magic_ spell and was warily eyeing the stone lions.  "I'm picking up auras of transmutation magic from those statues - I'd bet you anything they can animate and attack."

"Really?" asked Mandorregan.  "I had no idea!  Still, it fits - Rindicane was at times somewhat paranoid about his privacy."

Wakuren stepped directly between the lions and stood before the grandfather plaque, where it could get a good look at the holy symbol of Cal he wore around his neck.  "I am a cleric and paladin of Cal," he announced while scanning the construct's aura for the signs of evil and finding none.  "If you let me inside, I promise to take nothing; I seek only to verify that Rindicane is unharmed."

"I am truly sorry, but I am not allowed to let anyone inside without Rindicane's permission," explained the stone carving on the thick, wooden door.  By then Thurloe had dismounted Horse and stood by the half-orc's side.  He idly wondered what would happen if they just started busting down the front door.  It was pretty sturdily built, but he was sure Alewyth's dwarven warhammer _Sjondra_ would be up to the task....

But Alewyth was nowhere to be seen.  She had wandered off to the side of the building, concentrating on keeping her _detect magic_ spell active while walking completely around the building, looking for another way in.  When she reached the front again from the other side, she backed up to see as much of the roof as she could - and noticed a chimney flue off to the front left of the roof.  That had possibilities....

"Anything?" asked Xandro, having seen what the dwarf was up to.

"The stone lions animate if directed, the grandfather plaque is obviously magic, and I'm getting a pretty powerful aura off that big colored window in the front," Alewyth explained.

"So how do we get in?" whispered Zander, not wanting to be heard by the stubborn grandfather plaque.

"I have a _potion of gaseous form_," whispered Alewyth.  "I should be able to get in through the flue on the roof."

"Good idea," Wakuren agreed.  "You do that, while I turn invisible and use my _rope of climbing_ to climb up to the balcony.  Maybe the door up there is unlocked."

Thurloe, in the meantime, had taken it upon himself to keep the grandfather plaque's attention focused on himself and he chose to do so by arguing.  "What if Rindicane tripped and snapped his neck?" the fighter-wizard theorized.  "He could be lying dead in there.  Wouldn't you want to know if that was the case?"

"Rindicane left no instructions to let people into his dwelling in the case of his sudden demise," countered the grandfather plaque.

"Well, maybe he's not dead - yet," Thurloe persisted.  "Maybe he's got a big gash on his head and he's unconscious and bleeding out.  We got two clerics who could heal him - save his life.  Isn't that worth taking a chance on letting us in?"

"The Master is an intelligent man," replied the grandfather plaque.  "He no doubt took all of that into account when he gave me my orders and chose not to include such a 'what if?' loophole.  I can only assume he decided the risk was worth it."

"So you're okay if he's dead."

"I intend to follow his instructions as they were given to me."

Alewyth cast a _bless_ spell on the assembled group and then walked over to the left side of the building - she didn't want to drink down her potion in front of either the grandfather plaque or the stone lions - and smiled at Thurloe's failure to convince the stone servant to do his bidding.  Then she drank down the potion and, with _Sjondra_ in one hand, dissipated into a cloud of mist that slowly rose up the side of the building.  Once at the rooftop level, her dwarven cloud-form squeezed into a much smaller configuration as she entered the flue and sank down its length back down to the ground floor, this time from inside the building.  She was glad to see that the "at times somewhat paranoid" wizard Rindicane hadn't seen fit to seal off his chimney interior from trespassers.

Wakuren, in the meantime, had walked over to the right side of the building and activated his _ring of invisibility_.  He then opened his pack and pulled out his _rope of climbing_, which was also invisible (as was all of his gear) - and would remain so, he knew, as long as he held one end in his hand.  Giving it mental instructions, the rope rose up and attached its far end to the railing around the balcony after having twisted itself around and around such that its entire length was knotted every foot or so for easier climbing.  The half-orc gave it a quick tug to verify it would hold his weight and started climbing up to the balcony.

Alewyth popped out of a cold fireplace in what had to be a ground-floor kitchen.  There were two open doorways out of the kitchen, one leading to a long dining room which took up the entire back length of the keep's ground floor and the other leading to a foyer.  The foyer, Alewyth knew, led to the thick front door upon which the grandfather plaque had been fastened; she need only resume her normal form and open the door from the inside to allow her friends entry.  However, two things stopped her from doing so: the suits of plate mail armor standing in the back of the foyer.  With her _detect magic_ spell still active, Alewyth could see they each radiated the same transmutation auras as the lions outside, meaning they would likely animate and attack as soon as they detected an intruder in the keep.  Hoping her gaseous form wouldn't trigger their activation, she remained in a vaporous state and floated over to the dining room.  A set of stairs led up to the second floor and she drifted up them, figuring it might not be a bad idea to check the whole place out before resuming her solid form; maybe she'd find Rindicane fast asleep in a dream coma and would be able to justify to the grandfather plaque that their presence was needed.

Drifting silently from room to room on the second floor, the vaporous Alewyth explored a library (where her spell-enhanced vision allowed her to identify two magical scrolls which would likewise animate and attack any intruders who stepped foot into the room), a laboratory with a closet of supplies, and then another staircase leading to the third floor.  The third floor contained Rindicane's bedroom, closet, and bathroom, while the entire front half of that upper level was taken up by a large room with the stained-glass window in the front and a magic circle of some type inscribed in the middle of the floor.

Alewyth drifted over to examine the circle more closely.  The circle was covered in runes, the whole thing looking to have been painted onto the floor with some silvery-white substance that glowed slightly in the dwarf's _detect magic_ sight.  The circle included six gemstones set into the floor at equal distances around the circle's circumference; each gem was of a different color.  There was a leather-bound book lying beside the circle, which radiated no magic; nonetheless, Alewyth opted not to touch it, even in her gaseous form.  The window radiated magic as well, and it looked different than from outside somehow.  But having now explored the entire keep and not finding Rindicane, Alewyth came to an abrupt conclusion: the window had been modified as some sort of _planar gate_ and the wizard was no longer even on this plane of existence.

Mentally deactivating the effects of the _potion of gaseous form_ right before the door leading to the balcony, Alewyth resumed her solid form and tried opening the door.  No luck: it was locked and she saw no mechanism by which to unlock it; furthermore, it too was glowing under her _detect magic_ spell and was likely _arcane locked_.  But then she saw what had bothered her about the window: while drifting throughout the keep in vaporous form, she had been relying upon her innate darkvision to see, for there had been no illumination within the keep's rooms.  Now that she was in solid form in a room whose window allowed in ambient sunlight, she could see colors once again - but the window's geometric designs were still all in black, white, and shades of gray.

By this time, Wakuren had made it up to the top of the balcony, verified the door was locked from the outside as well, and peeked through the window into the room beyond.  He saw Alewyth inside and tried catching her attention before realizing he was still invisible and she wouldn't be able to see him even if she had managed to look over in his direction.  He still held onto the _rope of climbing_, knowing if he dropped it the rope would return to visibility and alert the grandfather plaque below that they were attempting to infiltrate his master's keep - and who knew what actions that would prompt?

Down below, Thurloe was still arguing with the stone face on the door.  "Okay, if you won't let us in, could you at least peek inside each room and tell us if Rindicane is actually in there?"

"Such actions are outside my instructions."

"How about telling us what's in each room, forgetting about Rindicane.  If I were to open this door and walk inside, what would I see?"

"I'm sure you understand that giving such information to strangers would not be in the Master's best interests."

"Okay, then tell Mandorregan here - you know him."

"I don't need him to tell me what's in each room," Mandorregan interjected.  "I've been inside the keep on many occasions - I already know what's in each room."

Xandro and Zander had been standing behind Thurloe and Mandorregan, amused at watching the fighter get nowhere.  But then Wakuren popped back from around the corner of the keep, motioning for the bard to come over by him.  Xandro complied, curious to see the half-orc had a coil of knotted rope in his hands.  Wakuren took him back around to the side of the keep, handed him the rope and his _ring of invisibility_, and explained about the _arcane locked_ door on the balcony.  "Sounds like a job for you," he told the bard.

Up in the window room, Alewyth thought she heard a noise, a buzzing sound not unlike the sound the giant bee from her amulet made when flying about.  This was much quieter in tone, though, and after looking around the room and not seeing anything (or any auras of magic that might be present if there was an invisible entity in the room there with her), the dwarven priestess realized the noise was coming from the other side of the door to the stairwell - the door she had slipped beneath while in gaseous form.  Walking as quietly as she could over to the door, she put an ear to it and verified the buzzing sound was coming from the stairwell.  Something, it seemed, was flying this way.

Xandro made it up the _rope of climbing_ and pulled himself up onto the balcony.  He tried the door and verified it was locked, then pulled out his set of masterwork thieves' tools, still invisible as he was holding it - the same with the rope.  _This is going to be fun_, the bard thought to himself as he felt for the tool he wanted and then inserted it into the lock on the door.  _I've never tried picking a lock when I can't even see what I'm doing!_  But after a few missteps he got the feel for invisible lockpicking and the door swung open, _arcane lock_ spell notwithstanding.

"Who's there?" demanded Alewyth, turning to face the now open door to the balcony.

"It's me," Xandro said, deactivating the _ring of invisibility_.  But that also returned the _rope of climbing_ to full visibility, and out of the corner of his eye the grandfather plaque in charge of ensuring his Master was not disturbed saw a knotted rope suddenly pop into view, hanging down from where it was fastened to the balcony railing.

"Distraction tactics!" bellowed the grandfather plaque, sending a quartet of _magic missiles_ blasting into Thurloe's torso.  "You've been keeping me distracted so your associates can try to break into the keep!"  With another mental command, the bearded stone face activated the twin lion statues and they creaked into life.  Mandorregan stepped back behind Thurloe, being the more scholarly type of wizard and not one to engage in combat; he didn't even know any attack or defensive spells, seeing the arcane arts as more properly put to use as a means of gathering more information about the world and all of its inhabitants.

Thurloe hurriedly started the incantations and hand gestures that brought a _shield_ spell into existence, glad to feel it snap into invisible effect despite it having been cast while he was wearing his metal armor.  He saw the stone lions approaching and slid his bastard sword from its sheath on his broad back.  The lion statue to his left took a swing at him but he dodged the raking claws, but then the winged lion bit at him and caught him on the leg.  Zander backed up further, giving his fighter friend enough room to maneuver.

Xandro took Wakuren's borrowed ring and tossed it back down to its owner.  "I'm in!" he called down to the half-orc, only then noticing the lions were attacking Thurloe below.  Wakuren snatched the ring up from the ground and slipped it back over his finger, activating it and slipping from view.  The grandfather plaque blasted Thurloe with another set of _magic missiles_ but they dissipated harmlessly against his _shield_ spell.  The grandfather plaque's stone face now held an expression of disappointment and disgust.  Xandro walked to the far end of the balcony, saw nothing of interest, and entered the window room where Alewyth was back to listening at the door.

"Let's go!" called Thurloe to the others, running for the _rope of climbing_ and taking a swipe from the winged lion's claws as he ran past it.  But then he sheathed his bastard sword on his back and started climbing.  Zander was right there behind him and the fighter had assumed Mandorregan would have followed...but when Thurloe ran off, the young wizard became the next closest target and the non-winged lion attacked him.  One hit and he was down, bleeding out.

Invisible, Wakuren slipped past the two stone lions who were looking about for potential targets to attack.  They apparently disregarded horses, mules, and dire goats as non-aggressors and devoted their time looking for intelligent foes trying to infiltrate Rindicane's keep.  The only ones visible to the animated statues were currently climbing up the rope, so they headed over to that direction and batted the rope with their claws, giving Wakuren the opportunity to quickly stabilize Mandorregan so he wouldn't bleed out.  He had the opportunity to heal him completely but decided he was probably the safest where he was, unconscious and no longer seen as an active threat.  The grandfather plaque called up to the climbing heroes, rather impotently, "I will be sure to inform Rindicane of this treachery when next we speak!"

Up on the top floor of the keep, another invisible creature was in action: in this case, opening the door from the stairwell to the window room.  Alewyth quickly slammed it back shut as Xandro readied his crossbow to shoot at whatever might come through the door if it opened again.  Then Thurloe climbed over the balcony railing and entered the room; Alewyth quickly caught him up to speed as Zander entered the room behind him.  The elf activated his magic headband, granting himself temporary _true seeing_.  "Nothing invisible in here yet," he told the others, then went over to examine the book on the floor by the circle with all the runes.

Wakuren leaped onto one of the stone lions and from there caught the rope and started climbing, pulling the rope up after him once he reached the balcony.  He then deactivated his ring and stashed his coiled rope back into his pack before joining the others in the large room.  "What'd I miss?" he asked.

"This book is a set of instructions on how the _magic circle_ works," Zander informed him and the rest of the group.  "It's currently attuned to the Plane of Shadow.  Anyone stepping into the circle is automatically attuned to that plane, and then they can step through the window and cross over to that plane.  That's probably where Rindicane went."

"So he isn't even asleep here, like Mandorregan thought!" scoffed Thurloe, walking over to the door to the stairwell.  "He still owes us the 250 gold, though."  Then he pulled the door open suddenly, revealing nobody there at all.  But they could still hear the fluttering of insect wings in the general area.

"Invisible pixie!" Zander called out, looking at the doorway with his _true seeing_ spell still active.  Xandro, in the meantime, took the plunge and stepped into the circle; instantly, a burst of black flames engulfed his body for a moment and dissipated at once.

"You can see me!" called a voice from the doorway.  At once, *Sheela* released the _invisibility_ effect that had hidden her from view and flew deeper into the room.  "I am a friend of Rindicane's," she explained.  "I saw you enter the flue in gaseous form and followed shortly thereafter," she told Alewyth.  "I hope you won't be offended, but I scanned your surface thoughts to make sure you weren't intending on burglary as I followed your exploration through the keep."

"We think Rindicane went through his window to the Plane of Shadow," Alewyth told Sheela.  "We plan on following, to see if he's all right.  Would you like to accompany us?"

Sheela shivered at the thought.  "The Plane of Shadow?  No, thank you - I will stay here and await his return."

The other adventurers stepped into the circle and were momentarily engulfed in black flames.  "I guess we're all attuned to the Plane of Shadow or whatever," Thurloe said.  "So let's get this over with."

Zander was the first to cross over to the other plane.  It was an odd experience, for it seemed the mere act of stepping through the window robbed the world of all color; the darkness of a star-filled sky overcame the landscape, although there were no stars to be seen, and while the wagon and animals were no longer in view the two stone lions could be seen in their normal perches directly below.  Rindicane's tower keep - or a shadowy version of it, in any case - existed here on the Plane of Shadows in the same place as it existed in the Darkwood Forest of their own plane.

"I wonder if the inside of the keep is the same," said Zander, stepping through the door at the end of the balcony and entering the Shadow Keep's version of the window room.  The elf noticed a few differences at once: the room's entire interior was now in black and white and shades of gray, not just the window; for that matter, the geometric shapes comprising the window seemed to have rearranged themselves, as had the rune-markings along the _magic circle_ (and there now seemed to be different gems in the six spots along the circle's circumference).  But perhaps the biggest difference was the dark-robed man standing in the corner of the room, who looked up at Zander's approach.

"Who are you?" he demanded, starting the words to a combat spell against this intruder.

Zander opted not to answer but replied with a question of his own.  "Are you Rindicane?"

"Who wants to know?" snarled the figure, continuing with his spell.

"Mandorregan sent us to check in on you," Zander replied.  At the mention of his friend, the dark-robed figure immediately ceased all spellcasting.  "Mandorregan?  Is he with you?  Is he okay?" he asked.

"He's outside - well, outside back in the Material Plane," Zander amended.  "The rest of my team said he was knocked out by one of your stone lions, but he's okay.  But what about you?  You've been missing for three weeks or so."

"Has it been three weeks?" asked Rindicane in a startled voice as the rest of the group followed Zander into the room from the balcony and stared expectantly at the dark-clad wizard.  "I had no idea; time must move differently here.  But my attuning to this plane worked only too well: as you can see, I have become a shade."  He pulled the hood back from his head, revealing his skin was as dark as the midnight sky.  "You all will be, too, if you spend too much time here."

"Yeah, that's not going to happen," Thurloe promised the shade.  "C'mon, you can come tell Mandorregan the news yourself."  He squinted, thinking he'd seen a black dot floating in the air for a moment, but then he lost sight of it as Zander crossed into his field of vision.

"Alas, I cannot," Rindicane replied.  "Is it daylight there?"  Alewyth confirmed that it was.  "I can no longer stand the brightness of sunlight," Rindicane lamented.  "But if you could have Mandorregan visit me briefly, I have something to give to him."  He provided the adventurers with a pass-code to tell the grandfather plaque they were friends and not to be attacked.  The group then went back out onto the balcony of the Shadow Keep, walked through the window back into the Material Plane, and went down the stairs to exit through the front door.

"Relax, Gramps," said Thurloe, voicing the pass code.  Then they went over to Mandorregan, where Wakuren roused him with a few healing spells.

"Rindicane is on the Plane of Shadow and wishes to speak with you," Xandro informed him.  They went through the front door, back up the stairs, and then got Mandorregan attuned to the Plane of Shadows before having him step through the window.  The five dreamwalkers opted to stay behind, none of them sure how much time spent on the Shadow Plane was enough to turn them into a shade and nobody wanting to take the chance.

Mandorregan returned a few minutes later, stepping back through the window.  "Rindicane is going to stay there in the Shadow Keep and continue his studies," the young wizard informed them.  "He is granting me custody of his keep here on the Material Plane.  I have a command word which will transfer the grandfather plaque's loyalty to me."

"He's staying there?  Forever?" asked Sheela despondently.

"He said he'll try to visit on dark nights," replied Mandorregan.  "But the Shadow Keep is a perfect replica of his keep here, including his library and all of his notes.  He's already reconfigured the window in his keep to explore another plane, someplace he calls the Far Realm."

"Never heard of it," replied Xandro.

"In any case, thank you for your help in gaining entry to the keep and checking on Rindicane," the young wizard said.  He pulled at a purse at his belt.  "I had promised you 250 pieces of gold for your assistance and I insist upon you taking it."

"That won't be a problem," assured Thurloe, taking the proffered purse.  "Happy to have been of help."

"I'll continue Rindicane's studies from here," promised Mandorregan, "but I don't intend to alter the current configuration of the window.  That way we'll still be able to visit Rindicane on occasion, and he us."  That seemed to please Sheela the pixie.  "And if you ever pass this way again, please feel free to visit anytime.  Should you have need of access to other planes, I'll stand ready to assist in any way I can."

"Thank you," said Wakuren, shaking Mandorregan's hand.  "But we must be back on the road.  There are many more dream victims out there in need of our help."

"Of course," replied the young wizard.  He and Sheela walked with them to the front door and watched as they mounted up.  They waved as the group departed back the way they had come.

"That was very nice of them to help," Sheela observed.

"Yes, they seem like very nice people," Mandorregan agreed.

Once he was sure they were well out of earshot, Thurloe said the rest of the group, "That was the easiest 50 gold apiece we're ever likely to see!"  He chuckled to himself.  "What a sucker!"

 - - -

This turned out much differently than I had expected, for Alewyth's _potion of gaseous form_ allowed her to single-handedly explore the entire keep on her own without setting off any of the "lair guardians" I had sprinkled throughout the building: specifically, the dread guards (animated armor) in the foyer and the pair of guardian scrolls in the library.  Zander even managed not to get into a fight with the paranoid wizard-shade on the Plane of Shadow by mentioning Mandorregan by name almost immediately.  So we finished this adventure in almost exactly two hours - much shorter than I had anticipated.

And speaking of Zander Quilson, while he was there in the window room with Rindicane on the Plane of Shadow, I had Joe roll a d20 for me without explaining what the roll was for; it came up as a natural "1."  The implications of that die roll will be revealed somewhere around the 35th adventure or so.

But this, being the 25th adventure in this 100-adventure campaign, meant the PCs leveled up to 6th afterwards.  That only took another half hour or so, resulting in a very truncated session.  Xandro took a 5th level of bard, Wakuren evened up his cleric/paladin levels (and Thurloe did likewise with his fighter and wizard levels, clearing the way for a first level in the spellsword prestige class when we level up again after five more adventures), and the single-classed Alewyth and Zander each added a level of cleric (priestess) and sorcerer, respectively.  Zander continued his continued hit point bad luck streak by once again rolling a "1" for his hit points, bringing him to a grand total of 17 hp at 6th level.  (And that after having taken the Toughness feat in desperation at 3rd level!)  I think poor Zander might need to stumble across an _amulet of health_ or something fairly soon....

 - - -

T-shirt worn: My Pink Floyd "Dark Side of the Moon" T-shirt, a good representation of the Plane of Shadow.


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## Richards (Feb 19, 2022)

*INTERLUDE: THE HIDDEN MARKET*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 6​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 3​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 3/paladin 3​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 5/rogue 1​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 6​
Game Session Date: 12 February 2022

 - - -

The next dreamer was in a town called Basker's Grove, which was still many hours away.  Close to noon, the group came upon the small city of Kesselton, where they purchased some feed for the animals and stopped off in an inn for a hearty lunch.  It was after they had finished eating and were loading up the wagon that they were approached by a white-haired gnome with a shockingly pointed moustache and beard.  "Good afternoon," he said to the assembled group.  "Would I be correct in assuming you are a band of professional adventurers?"

"We are," replied Alewyth, who had just been about to mount her dire goat Pyrite and get back on the road.  "Have you need of adventurers?"

"I was rather more concerned with whether you might have a need for my services," replied the gnome.  "Please allow me to introduce myself: I am *Wangle Turdblossom* and I represent a consortium of gnomes involved in the sale of various magic items.  Might you be interested in the purchase of a magical item or two?"

Thurloe was interested, but that wasn't his primary concern at the moment.  "'Turdblossom?'" he repeated.  "Is that your real name?"

"It is indeed," replied Wangle, bowing and apparently well pleased by the human's reaction to his unusual surname.  In gnomish culture, it was a sign of great honor for the ridiculousness of one's chosen name to be acknowledged and many gnomes spent months, if not years, deciding upon the perfect name for when they came of age and got to replace their birth name for one of their own choosing.

Thurloe looked around at the others.  "Yeah, sure, we'll check out what you've got for sale."

"If you would come this way then, sir," replied Wangle, leading them back into the inn.  He walked down a hallway, took a right, and stopped at a door to one of the rooms for rent.  Unlike the other doors in the hallway, this one held a door knocker at a height well within reach of the three-foot-tall gnome.  He rapped upon it four times, then opened the door and led the others inside.  The door, however, did not lead to a guest room as might be expected but rather to an unadorned hallway leading to a small room with a gnome-sized desk and a curtain in the back.  Wangle climbed into the chair behind the desk and looked over at the five adventurers who had followed him down the hallway.  "Now then, who's first?" he asked.

"Uh, sure, I'll go first," Xandro replied, stepping up to the desk.

Wangle looked at him expectantly.  "And what are you hoping to purchase?" he asked.

Xandro looked around at the bare walls of the little room.  "I was kind of expecting a showroom or something," he said.

"Ah, you thought we were running a magic item shop!" exclaimed Wangle.  "No, no, nothing like that - although we do occasionally run an actual marketplace on occasions, to get rid of specific items we're looking to turn over.  But no, the set-up works like this: you put in your order, we find what it is you're after, agree upon a price with the current owner, and bam! - purchase completed.  Now then, I repeat: what particular item were you hoping to purchase today?"

"Well," remarked Xandro, "I suppose I could do with a _wand of sound burst_...."

"A wand!" exclaimed Wangle.  "Excellent!  I don't deal with wands, though."  As Xandro frowned in confusion, Wangle leaned forward and pushed a gemstone embedded in his desktop and leaned over it, saying, "Thaddeus!  I have a customer for you!"  Within moments, the curtains in the back of the room parted and another gnome stepped forward.  "Good afternoon," he said.  "I am *Thaddeus Blunderbritches* at your service, sir.  I handle rods, staffs, and wands.  If you would be so good as to step this way?"  He held the curtain open and Xandro, a look of confusion still apparent on his face, walked through to another office.

"Now then: who's next?" asked Wangle.  "You, sir, the half-orc."

Wakuren stepped forward.  "I could use an upgrade to my armor," he suggested, but that only caused Wangle to frown in irritation.  "Upgrade?" he scoffed.  "We don't deal with upgrades - we are involved strictly in the sale of unwanted magic items!  I could sell you a more powerful set of magic armor, if you wish - that looks to be full plate, is it?"  Wakuren agreed that it was but said he didn't have enough money to purchase a new set of plate mail armor.  "I'd be willing to trade this armor in as part of the payment," he suggested.

But that only caused Wangle to frown all the harder.  "Barter?" he squeaked.  "We don't engage in _barter_.  Cash only, although gemstones are also accepted.  Very well, I'll send you to our armor and weapons expert; we'll have Mr. Rection see what he can do for you."

"Misdirection?" asked Wakuren, misunderstanding what the little gnome had just said to him.

"Eh?  What?" demanded Wangle, before realizing the half-orc's mistake.  "No, no, Mr. Rection," he repeated, before pushing another gemstone on his desk and leaning forward.  "Biggie?  We have a customer for you."  He then looked over at the other three adventurers, all waiting in line.  "Next?" he asked, looking up at Zander.

Before he could answer, the curtains parted again and out stepped a burly gnome almost four feet tall.  He wore the stereotypical pointed hat most often associated with gnomes but that was about all that was typical about him, for he had a stern, no-nonsense attitude quite different from the carefree and whimsical ways of the average gnome.  "You're looking for magical armor?" *Biggie Rection* demanded of Wakuren. "This way, then."  And he led the half-orc through the curtain to his own office.

"I understand there are magic items that can increase my overall level of toughness," Zander said, getting back to Wangle's question to him.

Wangle looked the slender elf over with a practiced eye.  "Yes, I can see how that might be desirable," he agreed.  "An _amulet of health_ is what you need.  They come in three main levels of strength," the gnome advised, then rattled off prices for each.  Zander indicated he could only afford the cheapest of the three.  "Just as well," Wangle replied, "those are the easiest to get a hold of."  He bent over his desk again to summon another gnome to assist the elven sorcerer.  "Wangle?" he asked.  "We have a customer to see you."

"Wait a minute - I thought you were Wangle," said Zander, brows furrowed in puzzlement.

Wangle looked up at him, smirking at his little joke. "I am!" he cried.  "I'll be able to help you with your purchase - it's my area of specialty!  But let's get these other two helped first, shall we?"  He indicated Alewyth.  "What can I help you with?" he asked her.

"I would like to be able to increase my speed," Alewyth answered the gnome.

"Drop you off the side of a cliff?" suggested Wangle, his face betraying no sense of teasing.

"I was actually hoping to move horizontally, not vertically."

"_Potion of haste_?" Wangle suggested.

"I was hoping for something a bit more permanent."

"_Boots of striding and springing_?  Or is it springing and striding?  I can never remember."

"Those sound promising," Alewyth replied.  "How much are they?"  Wangle rattled off the price, including the traditional 10% finder's fee.  "I don't have that much," Alewyth bemoaned.  "Anything else?"

"_Boots of haste_," suggested Wangle at once.

"Those are cheaper?"

"Oh no, they're way, way more expensive."

"Then that doesn't really help me.  Any other suggestions, more in my price range?"

"_Polymorph_ you into a cheetah?"

"I wouldn't be able to wield my warhammer as a cheetah, now, would I?"

"I do not recall that being a stipulation.  Very well then, it sounds like your best bet is the _boots of striding and springing and striding_," recommended Wangle, figuring this way he was right either way.  "If you want, you can put a down-payment on the boots and you can pick them up when you have the rest of the money."

"I don't know when we'll be by this way again," pointed out Alewyth.

"Pshaw!" scoffed Wangle.  Then, to make sure his disdain was fully understood, he added, "Fiddlesticks!  Poppycock!  No worry at all - we'll deliver them to you."  Alewyth was a bit leery and said she'd think it over while Wangle attended to Thurloe.

"Very well," Wangle agreed.  "And what can I do for you, sir?"

"I'm interested in two things," Thurloe answered.  "First of all, is there any kind of armor that would make it easier to cast arcane spells in?  If so, I'd be interested in something like that.  Otherwise, a simple _wand of shield_ would do just as well."

"I'm not so sure about the armor," mused Wangle, thinking deeply and tugging on the points of his moustache as he did so.  "The wand is a sure thing, though.  Perhaps you could do with some Oral?"

"...Say what?" asked Thurloe, uncharacteristically flabbergasted.

"*Oral Hijinx*," Wangle said, leaning into his desk.  "We have a customer for you."

"I thought that Bumblebritches guy handled wands," Thurloe replied.

"Oh, Thaddeus might be our expert on hard-to-find items along those lines, but he's with another customer right now and I think you'll find any from our consortium will be able to handle things to your satisfaction."  The curtain parted and a young, female gnome stepped through.  "Someone looking for Oral?" she asked, smiling broadly up at the young fighter-wizard.  "Here I am."  She led Thurloe through the curtain back to her own office.

Eventually, the five heroes ended back in Wangle Turdblossom's office with their purchases.  Thurloe had his _wand of shield_, Zander wore his _amulet of health_ on a gold chain around his neck, and Wakuren's armor now had an _iron ward diamond_ attached to the chest-plate, which Biggie had guaranteed would deflect some of the damage from incoming strikes during combat.  Xandro's _wand of sound burst_ was on order but probably wouldn't be available until the next day.  "Don't go engaging in any anti-scrying techniques," advised Wangle Turdblossom to the bard.  "We'll find your present location and bring the wand out to you, at which time you can pay the other half of the bill."  The white-haired gnome looked at Alewyth.  "Did you wish to put a down-payment down on those boots?" he asked.

Alewyth looked over at Xandro.  "You paid half up front for your wand?" she asked him quietly.  "What if they just rip you off?"

"We know where to find them," the bard replied, to which Wangle Turdblossom hid a smile.  "Plus, they seem like a good bunch.  I trust them."

Alewyth looked over at the gnome.  "Do you take Kornakian coins?" she asked.  She still had several hundred coins from the Barony of Kornak that weren't exactly popular in other lands.

"My dear lady, we accept coins from all over the world," Wangle assured her.  Alewyth pulled out her Kornakian coins and counted them out to the little gnome, who wrote up a document with his signature stating the money was paid as a down-payment for a pair of "boots of springing and striding, or vice-versa, as the case may be."  He reiterated his recommendation not to shield themselves from scrying attempts and wished them all a good day.

Once they were back on the road, Alewyth started voicing her doubts.  "I hope we didn't just throw our money away," she said to Xandro.

"I doubt it," Xandro replied.

"Do you think that was even a legal establishment?" the dwarven priestess continued.  "What if we're involved in trafficking stolen goods?"

"Then we're just innocent customers, taken in by the gnomes' dishonest shenanigans," Thurloe assured her.  "They'd be the ones in trouble, not us."  He turned to Wakuren, sitting in the front of the mule-driven wagon.  "Did you get a chance to _detect evil_ on them?" he asked.

"I suppose I had plenty of opportunities," Wakuren admitted.  "But it never occurred to me.  Plus, my eyes glow when I do it, so it's something people can see I'm doing, and it seemed insulting to go into a business establishment and pretty much say 'I suspect you might be evil' the first thing I get in there."

"Maybe you ought to buy a pair of magic goggles with shaded lenses," suggested Zander.  "Then nobody could see your eyes glowing when you're checking people out for signs of evil."

"Yeah," agreed Wakuren.  "There's a thought."  And then he focused his attention back on the road, where Mica and Perseverance were plodding along, pulling the wagon behind them.

 - - -

The adventure I had planned on running the players through during this session seemed like it could end up a little short, which was something I really wanted to avoid since our last session ended after two hours and only extended to two and a half because the PCs all leveled up to 6th level.  So I decided to spring this little shopping excursion as a sort of "Side Trek" before the adventure itself started up.  And this was also a solution to a problem I had caused: when designing this campaign, I decided I wanted a different "feel" from our previous two campaigns, which featured magic shops in the larger cities.  So I decided there would be no such magic shops in this campaign, just the occasional stalls that sold potions and scrolls - one-shot items, in other words.  But the PCs were now at 6th level and had been amassing money without much on which to spend it.  So the Hidden Market is a compromise: a gnome-run consortium that deals with clients on an invitation-only basis, fetching magic items the original owners are willing to sell.  I have designed some very specific ground rules for the Hidden Market, which all make sense to me but I don't wish to share because it will give away too much that I hope will eventually become apparent over the course of the campaign.  But one of the rules is that they only sell previously existing items, they don't upgrade items or create new ones.  And another rule is they accept any kinds of coins and gems but are not interested in all at any kind of bartering.  And I think that's all I'll say about them for now, other than Harry got a kick out of the gnomes' ridiculous names, which was somewhat of a surprise for me because he usually just groans at my "dad jokes."

 - - -

T-shirt worn: A "Duck Dynasty" shirt with the heads of the four most prominent members of the Robertson family, in all their full-bearded glory.  It's the closest thing I have to a shirt featuring a bunch of gnomes.


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## Richards (Feb 20, 2022)

*ADVENTURE 26: SERPENTINE DREAMS*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 6​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 3​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 3/paladin 3​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 5/rogue 1​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 6​
Game Session Date: 12 February 2022

 - - -

Arriving in the small farming village of Basker's Grove close to dusk, it was apparent there wasn't a whole lot to see there: other than a whole bunch of staggered farmhouses and their associated fields, the central hub seemed to consist of little more than a single tavern and a temple of Desdemona, Goddess of the Harvest.

"What do you think, tavern or temple?" Alewyth asked.

"Let's try the tavern," Xandro replied.  "People drinking at the end of a hard day are more likely to be willing to speak freely to strangers."

That turned out to be quite prophetic, for after purchasing drinks for themselves and the few farmers in the tavern they found the villagers more than eager to tell them what they knew about someone being trapped in their sleep for weeks on end.  "Oh, you mean *Calabar Condaman*," replied one leather-skinned farmer of advancing years.  "Hard-working folks, the Condamans.  Moved in about a year or so ago, after the previous owners got sick and died.  Calabar's folks say he went to bed one night a couple of weeks back and nobody's been able to wake him up since, not even the new cleric from the temple."

"New cleric?" asked Xandro.

"Yeah, *Father Roballi*.  He's a nice enough guy - showed up out of the blue after the prior cleric got called away for a family emergency of some sort, said he'd been sent by the Goddess.  He's real serious about his duties, and he's tried everything he can to wake poor old Calabar, but no luck."

Other drinkers offered their own opinions.  "Y'ask me, it's probably somethin' t'do wit' th' illness what's been goin' around," mentioned a grizzled farm worker with straggly blond hair going to white.  He specified a flu that "knocked you off yer feet fer 'bout a week" that had stricken a few of the local farmhands a few weeks back.  Under Father Roballi's patient ministrations, they had all recovered.  "Not like them other hands what went missing," put in a hefty-sized woman, explaining there had also been a small rash of disappearances recently among some of the younger farmhands.  "That wasn't no disease, though, unless you consider laziness and slothfulness a disease - I reckon they just took off to other parts, hoping to avoid work."

After finishing their drinks and asking for directions to the Condaman farmhouse, Wakuren was pleased to learn it was just down the road, practically adjacent to the temple of Desdemona.  The farmhouse was a single-story affair, the front door off to the right.  A length of rosebushes flanked the entire right side of the house, with a well and what looked like a shed further back.  Wakuren stepped down from the wagon and was about to go knock on the door when he remembered his fearsome, orcish visage often put people ill at ease at first - although the drinkers at the tavern hadn't seemed overly put off - and allowed Alewyth to do the honors.  He stood in the back of the group.

The door opened after Alewyth knocked upon it and there in the doorway stood a human couple, *Seth* and *Anya*.  Alewyth explained they were here to help their son awaken and the farming couple gladly ushered them inside.  Calabar was asleep in his room, undisturbed after nearly four weeks, but his room was much too small for them to perform their ritual so Seth carried him out to the sitting room while the heroes helped Anya push the furniture up against the walls.  Seth gently placed his sleeping son down upon the floor and the five dreamwalkers sat in a circle around him.  Alewyth explained the procedure as she tied a bandana around Calabar's head, holding a dreamstone in place against his forehead.

Zander activated his _jade cooshee_ and had it stand guard, but that wasn't enough for Thurloe.  "Is there anybody else in the house?" he asked, and Anya answered they had two farmhands.  Seth explained, after further questions from Thurloe, there was just the one door to the building, the front door through which they had entered, and while there was no lock on the door it could be barred from inside.  Upon the fighter's direction, the two farmhands were stationed just outside and the door barred from the inside before Thurloe was satisfied.  "It's important we're not disturbed during the ritual," he explained to Seth and Anya, and they were all for taking whatever precautions were necessary if it meant getting their son back.  They promised to watch over the six during the ritual and not let anything disturb the dreamwalkers.  Alewyth even activated the giant bee from her amulet and stationed it by the front door, knowing full well its limited daily activation time meant it would have returned to her amulet by the time they (hopefully) had rescued Calabar from his dreams.

After that, it was a simple matter of slowing the heart rate, the breathing, and thoughts themselves as each of the five willed themselves to sleep.  Once asleep, their minds went straight to the Dreamlands, where they were met by their moogle guides and taken to the Hallway of Dreams.  "In you go," said Mogo as they entered the door he opened for them.

Calabar's dream was somewhat odd, for he was practically in the same position in his dream as he was in real life, lying upon his back on the floor with his hands at his sides.  However, this dream version was quite obviously awake, for his eyes dashed back and forth until the heroes stepped into view, at which time he looked imploringly at them.  His mouth was gagged with a strip of cloth and his wrists had been bound by a rope beneath his back.  His ankles were likewise tied together by thick ropes and Calabar wriggled back and forth, desperately trying to escape.

Thurloe had his bastard sword out and spun about in a circle, looking for any potential threat, while Wakuren knelt beside the young man and pulled the cloth from between his lips.  "Who did this to you?" he asked.

Rather than answer his question, Calabar just pleaded, "Free me!"  Zander cut at the ropes binding Calabar's ankles with his dagger while Alewyth likewise cut the rope tied to each wrist.  But though freed from his bindings, Calabar still lay there on the floor, writhing.  "Free me!" he continued to plead, now ripping at the skin of his face, his fingernails digging into his cheeks and drawing blood.  A lump moved beneath the skin of his stomach, bringing forth memories of fighting the dregworms back in Baron's Haven, although the hostess of those three had been already dead and Calabar seemed quite alive - although in a dream, one could never tell.

"You are free!" countered Alewyth, stepping back in confusion.  In her place, Thurloe stepped up, bastard sword at the ready.  "Let's see if we can't reset this dream to its beginning," he said, raising his blade above his head.  "I want to see the dream from the start - maybe we can see who tied him up in the first place!"  And with that, he brought his sword down, cutting into the farm lad's stomach.

Calabar and Alewyth both screamed as one, the priestess in surprise at Thurloe's actions and the farm boy in jubilation.  His hands pulled at the slit Thurloe had cut into his stomach, pulling the gap even wider.  "Help me!" Calabar pleaded.  Not sure he was doing the right thing, Wakuren bent down beside the dark-haired youth and helped him pull the gaping hole in his stomach even wider.

A triangular head poked out of the bleeding gap, its slick-scaled head followed by a seemingly endless length of sinewy body as the full-sized constrictor snake slid out from Calabar's body cavity.  "Ahhhh!" sighed the snake, finally free of the last of its confines.  "That feels so much better!"

Thurloe was looking all around again, expecting the dream to start over from the beginning so he could see who had bound Calabar, but instead it seemed as if the dream had instead been brought to its final conclusion, for the walls were melting away in the same manner as they'd seen before whenever the dreamer's consciousness was waking back up and returning to the Mortal World.  As one, each of the five dreamwalkers began the mental techniques they'd been taught to bring themselves back to full wakefulness back in the Mortal World.  All six woke up at pretty much the same time, to see Calabar propped up on his elbows looking around at the heroes sitting in a circle around him and recognizing them instantly while the dream was still fresh in his memory.  Seth and Anya gasped in excitement at seeing their son back awake after his nearly month-long slumber.

But Calabar wasn't pleased to be awake again so much as panicked.  "Mom!  Dad!" he cried out.  "They know what we are!"

As the five heroes were still trying to piece together what exactly was going on, the Condamans leaped into instant action.  Seth's human body flowed until it became half as thick and twice as long, losing the arms and legs in the process.  Now a massive serpent, Seth fell forward onto Wakuren as the half-orc was scrambling to his feet.  At the same time, Anya Condaman had undergone a similar transformation and was biting her serpentine fangs into Zander Quilson.  Then, her venom injected into his veins, she slithered forward on her belly past the elven dog who was even now snapping at her scaled body with his fangs.  She went through the kitchen and into a hallway, on her way to the house's only exit door, still currently barred from the inside.

Calabar began his own transformation, taking on the appearance of the snake from his dreams.  Lightning-quick, he darted to the front door and resumed his human form, calling out at the farmhands stationed outside to warn the village they were under attack by foreign bandits.  From the other side of the door came promises to get help.

But by now the other dreamwalkers were back up onto their feet and ready for combat, if some of them were still a bit unsure of why it had been initiated in the first place.  "They're yuan-ti!" Thurloe called as he swung his bastard sword at the serpent that had been Seth and missing.  Alewyth shook her head, that explanation not explaining anything at all to the dwarven priestess - she'd never heard of "yuan-ti" before and had a somewhat limited exposure to snakes in any case as she'd grown up in an Underdark dwarven city.  But she trusted Thurloe knew what he was on about and raced over to attack Calabar, swinging at him with _Sjondra_ and catching him unprepared from behind.  It felt like a cowardly attack to the good-hearted priestess, but these snake-people had started the fight unprovoked and she was perfectly willing to end it as soon as she could.

Zander was struggling with the poison the snake-Anya had injected into him with her fangs; the increased heartiness brought on by his new _amulet of health_ was being drained away with every moment.  But he had the presence of mind to cast a _haste_ spell on the entire group of heroes - including his faithful cooshee, busy chasing after the Anya-serpent and snapping at her with his teeth - since that didn't involve any personal combat on his part.  Never one for hand-to-hand combat, the elven sorcerer felt even less fit for it now that at any other point in his life.

Xandro pulled his _frost short sword_ out of its scabbard and stabbed at Calabar, catching him in the lower side just above the beltline and the farmer's son fell over to the floor of the entryway, dead.  His body now lay directly against the front door, which he'd managed to unbar but not open before his death.

Wakuren swung the edge of his shield at the Seth-serpent, slicing into a line of scales with its sharpened bottom.  The snake-man lashed out, biting the half-orc and injecting venom into his veins, but Wakuren was made of much tougher stuff than Zander and the bite didn't seem to faze the cleric of Cal in the least.  The cooshee was also bitten and likewise seemed to ignore the effects of the venom, continuing to bite and claw at Anya in her serpent form.  But then a _magic missile_ came screaming from the sitting room and Anya collapsed in serpent-form, dead from the simple spell.  Thurloe grinned and lowered the wand he'd just used to slay her.  Then, seeing Zander still wincing in pain from his wounds at her fangs, he tossed another wand over to the elf: the _wand of shield_ he'd just purchased from the gnomes in the Hidden Market.  Zander snatched the tossed wand from midair and nodded his appreciation, casting the _shield_ spell upon himself to hopefully prevent any other snake-bites.  To further add to the likelihood of preventing such a course of action, he staggered over to the kitchen, away from the battle with the only remaining serpent, Seth Condaman.  The cooshee ran over to his side now that his own foe had been slain.

Alewyth turned and faced Seth from the entryway, casting a _magic circle against evil_ spell upon herself as she did so.  Then, stepping away from Calabar's corpse, she headed Seth's way with her warhammer in hand.  Xandro began his inspirational tune on his lute, content to aid from a distance against this remaining venomous foe.  And perhaps his tune helped guide Wakuren's next blow with his shield, for the edge came crashing down upon Seth's neck and decapitated the serpent with a single blow.

"It's over!" exclaimed Zander with a sigh of relief - just as he received another bite on the leg from behind.  Somehow, a creature had padded silently up a ramp leading from the kitchen down to some sort of root cellar without the elf having heard it.  The creature was the size and general build as a dog, but its head - and rather extensive neck - were those of a snake and its otherwise canine body was covered in scales.  Zander could feel the venom burning in this new wound and staggered away, back towards the cluttered sitting room and away from the venom dog that had bitten him.  The cooshee was quick to interpose his own body between this new threat and his master, allowing Thurloe to cast a _shield_ spell on himself while fishing out a vial of antivenom to pass over to Zander.  The elf grabbed the flask and gratefully drank down its contents, but not without first casting a _scorching ray_ spell at the venom dog, killing it instantly and coating its corpse in flames.  His faithful elven dog sniffed at the burning body of this strange hybrid creature, obviously not liking the alien scent.

"Those farmhands have gone to get help," Thurloe told the others.  "No idea if they're all going to be yuan-ti or not, but we're gonna have to be prepared to fight them off."  He cast a _protection from evil_ spell on himself and indicated now would be the time for healing if anybody needed any.  Zander drank down a _potion of cure serious wounds_, sealing up the multiple puncture-wounds where he'd been bitten.  He still wasn't at his full strength after having been envenomed, he knew, but he was as in as good a shape as was possible for now.  Xandro cast a _heroism_ spell on the elf to hopefully further toughen him up for the battle to come, while Alewyth cast a _bless_ spell on the group.  Then Wakuren activated his _ring of invisibility_ and stepped outside.

Sure enough, there were people racing out of both ends of the Temple of Desdemona. some bursting out the front door of the temple and others coming from behind it, over by Father Robelli's dwelling where they'd apparently stopped off to grab up some of the farm implements he kept stored in his own shed there to tend to his personal gardens.  It looked to be about a full dozen in all, some armed with scimitars, others wielding only a hoe or rake.  There was a dog loping along from the back alongside one of the farmers, apparently a pet; from this distance, Wakuren thought the dog looked perfectly normal and not like that weird snake/dog hybrid Zander had slain back inside the Condamans' home.

And now Father Roballi himself stepped out of the front doors of the temple, calling out to his brethren, "Save the Condamans, before the bandits slay them to steal their hard-earned goods!"  The man seemed earnest, eager to come to the aid of the people he'd been sent to oversee, but Wakuren wasn't sure if the cleric of Desdemona knew there were yuan-ti in the midst of his village or if he might even be one of the snake-men himself; after all, Seth, Anya, and Calabar had all seemed perfectly human themselves before transforming into snakes.  He cast a _protection from evil_ spell upon himself and moved as silently as he could towards the approaching mob, knowing his ability to detect evil among the auras of people only worked at a certain range.

Thurloe exited the Condaman house, bastard sword in both hands.  Zander followed suit, but stepped back, wanting to have the fighter between him and those who seemed eager to do them all harm.  The cooshee stood beside his master, growling in anger at the approaching group of angry farmers.  Then Alewyth stepped outside and moved forward, towards the mob, stopping beside Thurloe.  "They're not likely all evil," she cautioned the human beside her.

"Don't matter," Thurloe informed her.  "If they attack me, I'm attacking right back.  I got a right to defend myself."

Xandro was the last to exit the house, but he cast an _expeditious retreat_ spell on himself as he did so and then sprinted forward to the head of the dreamwalkers' formation, his lute stowed on his back and his short sword out and ready for business.  By then Wakuren had closed enough distance he could tell there was indeed evil present in the mob but he could not yet pinpoint which of the farmers were responsible for the overall miasma of evil he was detecting.

And then the first salvo was cast by the one furthest away from the heroes: Father Roballi himself, still standing at the doors of his temple.  But he could easily cast an _entangle_ spell on the "bandits" who had attacked the Condamans, at least according to their farmhands.  The grasses underfoot started sprouting at a remarkable speed, intertwining around the heroes' legs - and not just those of the heroes, either, for the Condamans' two farmhands were also within the area of effect of the spell, as was another farmer and his loyal hound.  Whether a testament to the cleric's spellcasting prowess or perhaps the distance involved, none of the potential targets were immobilized as had no doubt been intended, although movement through the area of writhing, oversized blades of grass and scraggly weeds was still difficult.

Both farmhands slashed out at Xandro, in the front of the defensive formation, using scimitars the bard hadn't known they possessed.  He dodged one strike but was hit by the other, the entangling grasses around his feet slowing his ability to dodge.  But then Thurloe trudged up through the grasses, bringing his blade crashing into one of the two farmhands, causing him to hiss in pain.  The hiss was identifiably serpentlike enough for the fighter to categorize his opponent as some sort of yuan-ti, and in that assessment Thurloe was not wrong, for both farmhands were of the "tainted one" variety of yuan-ti capable of passing for human but with some tell-tale sign of their true heritage.  But before Thurloe could spot any telltale signs of snakehood on his combat opponent the foe was suddenly engulfed in flames from the waist up, Zander having successfully targeted a _scorching ray_ spell at him.  The cooshee raced through the entangling grasses to bite the flaming foe's legs and he toppled over, dead from the combined assaults.

Alewyth cast a summoning spell and a celestial bison suddenly appeared behind a group of human farmers approaching the area of entangling grasses where the "bandits" they'd been warned about were gathered.  Lowering its impressive horns, it stabbed the closest farmer in the back and flung him forward, stumbling to stay on his feet and keep a grip upon the scimitar in his right hand.

Xandro extricated himself from the confines of the _entangle_ spell and used his spell-enhanced speed to high-tail it all the way to the temple, intending to confront Father Roballi directly; who knew what all other combat spells the cleric could throw their way?  But the cleric saw Xandro coming and stepped back, throwing a _hold person_ spell at the bard running his way.  Xandro had almost caught up to the cleric when he slowed instantly to a standstill, willing himself to finish the attack but finding his traitorous body unable to do so.

Wakuren cast an _obscuring mist_ spell over the approaching farmers, some of whom he had determined by this time were yuan-ti pure-bloods or tainted ones, the ones capable of successfully passing as human.  The dog, in the meantime, had decided it didn't like being attacked by mobile grass and exited the _entangle_ spell's area of effect as quickly as it could, then turning and barking at the strange plants that didn't behave like plants were supposed to.

The second yuan-ti tainted one farmhand from the Condaman household swung his scimitar at Thurloe, neither of the combatants even bothering to try to prevent the grasses from trying to entangle them anymore, each focused solely on the foe before him.  The other farmers who had been caught up in the overlapping spells - Father Roballi's _entangle_ and Wakuren's _obscuring mist_ - exited from one side or the other, about half heading in each direction.  Those that had gone east found themselves on the left side of the Condaman house and started skirting around it, hoping to catch the bandits from behind.  The dog's master was a part of this group so he accompanied them, tail wagging at the excitement but not really sure what all was going on.

Thurloe slew the tainted one he'd been fighting and extricated himself from the _entangle_ spell, heading over to one of the four farmers wielding scimitars.  By now, Wakuren's enhanced vision allowed him to determine which farmers were the sources with individual auras of evil and without much surprise it was the ones with the better weapons.  "The ones with scimitars are yuan-ti!" he called to the others, while still cloaked in invisibility.  Zander cast another _scorching ray_ at the closest pure-blood, not wanting any of them to make it far enough to try to do him harm.  The yuan-ti burst into flames, screaming horribly as he burned to death.  The cooshee went after another pure-blood, biting at a leg and trying to pull the fake farmer down to the ground.

Alewyth cast a _spiritual weapon_ spell and sent a solid mass of force energy in the shape of a dwarven warhammer flying at the head of another pure-blood while her celestial bison gored the same foe he'd stabbed earlier with his horn.

Sweat poured down Xandro's brow as he struggled to make his paralyzed body react to his mental commands, but with no luck.  "You'll regret having meddled in our affairs!" promised Father Roballi, pulling out a scimitar of his own and swinging it at the immobilized bard.  But luck was with Xandro as the blade struck a buckle holding his crossbow in place on his back and was deflected harmlessly to the side.  The cleric, apparently not used to hand-to-hand combat, snarled in irritation but then took a step back, for Thurloe had spotted the bard's immobility and was racing to the rescue, even though doing so meant racing past a few farmers more than willing to strike at his as he ran past them.

The other pure-bloods were now advancing on Zander and his elven dog.  The cooshee raced forward and bit at the closest while Zander cast another _scorching ray_ spell, this time firing hopelessly high and sending the gout of flames well over his target's head.  He stepped back away from the advancing group, whereas Alewyth stepped forward to meet them, very much so willing to have them face her instead of the weakened elven sorcerer.  _Sjondra_ came swinging in to crush a pure-blood's kneecap, even as her _spiritual warhammer_ and the celestial bison each finished off the pure-bloods they had been attacking.

The dog and a group of farmers wielding hoes and rakes turned the corner around the Condaman house - past the colorful rose bushes - and one of them yelled, "There's the bandits there!" ruining any possibility of surprising the heroes with an attack from an unexpected direction.  "We're not your enemies - we're not bandits!" Zander called as he turned to face this new group of foes.  "Some of your villagers are secretly snake-men!  The Condamans - they were all snake-men!"  That seemed like crazy-talk to the puzzled farmers, who chocked it up to desperate ramblings of an elven bandit trying to talk his way out of the punishment he had coming.  And it was then that the farmers learned they weren't the only ones to have gone around the Condaman house to attack the bandits from behind, for the newest arrival to have done so made her own appearance, much to their surprise and fear.  This was a yuan-ti abomination, currently in the form of an oversized constrictor snake.  It had been sent by Father Roballi to slay the interlopers who had somehow learned of the yuan-ti's secret infiltration of Basker's Grove, replacing the human farmers one by one with those of their own kind.  She struck at Zander Quilson and bit him on the arm; fortunately, the antivenom the elf had swallowed earlier helped him fight off this new dose of venom, but the elf nonetheless swore to himself that he couldn't seem to catch a break this night.

With supreme mental effort, Xandro finally managed to free himself from Father Roballi's _hold person_ spell, just as Thurloe arrived and sliced at the cleric with his bastard sword.  "We know about your yuan-ti cult," he warned the cleric.  "The game's up!"

"Not yet it isn't!" replied the yuan-ti pure-blood cleric, stepping back out of range of the fighter's sword and casting a _charm person_ spell at Xandro, knowing the bard had already failed to initially overcome the casting of one enchantment spell and hoping to pit one human against the other.  "Protect me from your friend!" Father Roballi commanded Xandro, hoping this second spell would give him a moment's respite against the fighter's vicious-looking bastard sword.

Xandro looked over at Thurloe, who was forced to keep an eye on both the cleric and the bard, not sure which one would attack him next.  "Who, him?" Xandro asked.  "Protect you from him?  Nah, I don't think so!"  Thurloe grinned and slew the cleric with another strike of his blade.

Two of the farmers had seen the slaying of the cleric of their temple, though, and rushed over to avenge his death.  "He killed the good father!" one cried in shock, ready to bring his hoe crashing down upon Thurloe's head in retaliation.

"That father of yours wasn't as good as you thought," Thurloe told him, stepping back as the hoe came crashing down at his feet.  "He was a snake man, tricking you and your townsfolk!"

"You lying--!" sputtered the first farmer, as Xandro made a show of holding his own blade off to the side, indicating he was not going to try fighting the enraged farmers.

"It's true!" Xandro added.  "We successfully woke Calabar Condaman, but he and his parents were all snake-people!  We can show you Seth and Anya - both snakes!"

"I'll kill you both!" vowed the farmer, but his partner put a hand on the first one's shoulder and pulled him back.  "Now just wait a minute, there, let's hear them out!" he suggested.  He didn't want to believe Father Roballi was anything but a kind-hearted priest who took care of his flock...but he also didn't want to go hoe-to-bastard-sword against an armored professional who had just demonstrated his own proficiency with his blade.

Back by the Condaman house, down the road from the temple, Wakuren brought the full force of his shield slamming into the giant snake that had just bit Zander.  Zander cast a _scorching ray_ at the serpent and this time the spell hit straight on, but it nevertheless fizzled out upon impact, coming up against an inherent resistance to spells he'd been unable to overcome.  The elf frowned in puzzlement; what kind of a snake could resist spells so efficiently?  The cooshee bit at the snake, catching it between its teeth but unable to get a grip as the scales caused the thing's body to slide right back out of the elven dog's jaws.

A pair of pure-blood yuan-ti were attacking Alewyth and her celestial bison with limited success; the beast was now dripping blood from a lucky scimitar-strike while the priestess had managed to avoid any hits.  A final blow from _Sjondra_ finished off the one Alewyth had been fighting, then the dwarf sent her _spiritual warhammer_ over to aid the bison she'd summoned from the celestial planes.

Xandro's _expeditious retreat_ spell was still in effect and he could see the others fighting off some kind of giant snake; pointing it out to Thurloe and the farmers, the bard rushed off to see what he could do to help.  "C'mon," Thurloe called to the two farmers facing him.  "Come see for yourselves what these snake-men are up to!"  He raced off to follow the bard, the two farmers running behind him.

The giant snake reared up and transformed, suddenly expanding to grow a pair of arms and a wide chest.  It flung a scale-covered arm in Wakuren's direction, flinging a _baleful polymorph_ spell at the half-orc that would have turned him into a harmless garter snake.  Fortunately, Wakuren was able to avoid the unwanted transformation and the yuan-ti abomination hissed in irritation.  It hissed in pain a moment later as the half-orc sent his shield bashing into the serpent's face.  Zander took the opportunity to drink down another healing potion, as Wakuren had the snake-thing's full attention and Alewyth was still busy with the last of the pure-bloods.  The cooshee bit at the abomination and, barking furiously, the farmer's dog rushed in to bite at this strange thing that it hadn't even seen before yet knew didn't belong here in his master's village.

The last of the pure-bloods was finally slain and Alewyth turned her attention - and her _spiritual weapon_ spell - on the yuan-ti abomination, the celestial bison trailing in her wake.  Then Xandro came rushing in from seemingly nowhere, his _frost short sword_ striking at the serpent and cutting a deep gash in her side.  The snake-thing reacted by grabbing up the bard in a bear hug, her scales exuding some kind of burning acid as she bit at the bard's neck, sharp fangs piercing Xandro's neck and pumping her venom into his body.  But the odds were stacked well against her and once Thurloe arrived with the two farmers once final swing of his bastard sword - empowered by the _torc of the titans_ he wore around his neck - cut the head from her neck and the battle was over.

Alewyth and Wakuren cast healing spells on those who needed them - including a few of the farmers - and examined the bodies of those they had slain.  Most could indeed pass for human, but the two Condaman farmhands had patches of skin on their arms - covered by the sleeves of their garments - covered in scales.  The farmers confirmed Thurloe's suspicions that the farmhands had both been two of the ones suffering from that week-long "flu" that knocked them off their feet; the fighter explained that was the way the yuan-ti transformed normal people into others of their brood.  The heroes also showed the amazed farmers the two serpentine bodies of the elder Condamans and the venom dog they'd had living hidden down in their root cellar.  A quick exploration of the root cellar resulted in the discovery of a hidden room just beyond, in which alchemical equipment had been set up, creating distillations of the yuan-ti venom used to create the elixir capable of transforming unwitting humans into yuan-ti.  Worse yet were four writhing bodies moaning behind another door, wretched creatures turning into half-human "brood guards" - four of the farmhands from the village who had been assumed to have run off.  Thurloe was quick to put them out of their misery.

Next came an exploration of Father Roballi's house, just behind the temple to Desdemona.  He had a compost heap by his personal garden, which was apparently mostly for show judging by the contents of his larder just off his kitchen, where several slain rats and mice hung by cords from the ceiling, no doubt future meals for either him or his yuan-ti abomination companion (who, judging from some cast-off skin, apparently lived in serpent form underneath the pure-blood cleric's bed).  Wakuren, on a hunch, dug around the compost heap and soon unearthed a few bones from a human skeleton.  "This, I fear, is all that's left of your previous temple cleric," he told the villagers.

The villagers thanked the heroes for having saved the town from eventual transformation into yuan-ti - and for "pulling their punches" when fighting off the enraged townsfolk who had been convinced they were nothing more than murderous bandits.  The group mounted back up and headed out of town, on towards the next dream victim Mogo had pointed out to them, south of their present location in a town called Caldovia, near the desert lands of the continent's interior.  It was already late, but none of the heroes felt it a good idea to spend the night in Basker's Grove, where there was too great a temptation for revenge by those who hadn't seen the truth for themselves (or those who refused to believe it).  They camped out on the side of the road a good couple of miles outside of town.

And the next morning, once they were back on the road, there was a familiar face standing in the street when they rounded a corner.  "Good morning," said Wangle Turdblossom, pulling something from a back pocket and holding it out to Xandro.  "Your wand, as promised."  Xandro leaned down from the saddle and paid the gnome the other half of the price they had agreed upon.

"A pleasure doing business with you," the gnome said with a tip of an imaginary cap.  He waited until the group had continued down the road before turning back the way he had come and going his own way.

 - - -

Yuan-ti were something new to Vicki and Harry (and possibly Joe as well), so this was a cool way to introduce them to a new foe.  And this marks twice now that I've used a temple of Desdemona in this campaign, while she was just an NPC in our "Wing Three" campaign (the one after which the gods of Erthe are all patterned).  Not to worry, though, for I have adventures planned that will bring some of the other, more prominent faiths from the Erthe pantheon to the forefront.

 - - -

T-shirt worn: I was still wearing my "Duck Dynasty" shirt since this was the same game session - which was all for the best, since I don't own anything particularly yuan-ti appropriate.


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## Richards (Mar 7, 2022)

*ADVENTURE 27: RAIDERS OF THE LOST ORCS*

PC Roster: 
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 6​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 3​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 3/paladin 3​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 5/rogue 1​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 6​
Game Session Date: 26 February 2022

 - - -

Wakuren sat at the front of the wagon as usual, the reins to the two mules in his hands as they plodded over the hard-packed dirt road.  To either side of the wagon rode Xandro and Zander on their black horses, while just ahead rode Thurloe on his tan horse and Alewyth on her dire goat.  They were making their way to their next dream victim in some small village another half hour down the road or so, on the edge of the Centralia Desert that covered a good portion of the small continent's center.

There was another vehicle approaching from the opposite direction, a wagon also pulled by two draft beasts, a pair of powerful horses as black as Xandro and Zander's own mounts.  The sorcerer and the bard hurried their own mounts forward ahead of the mule-wagon, scooting in to make room for the two wagons to pass each other.  As they got nearer they could see the approaching wagon was fully covered with walls and a roof of wood, making it possible the lone driver - a male elf, Zander noted - lived inside of his vehicle.  A small bird of prey was perched upon the wagon's rooftop.

And then the desert exploded on the side of the road beside the elf's wagon.  A yellow and brown figure burst out of the sand in a blur of motion; by the time any of the heroes had time to register it was a lizard nearly as long from head to tail as the span from the horses' noses to the back of the wagon they pulled, the beast had clamped its jaws around the neck of the leftmost horse and pulled it to the ground.  The wagon toppled on its side, throwing the elf to the ground; the other draft horse panicked but was too tangled up in its tethers to escape being pulled to the ground as well.  The falcon took immediately to the skies.

Instinctively, Xandro pulled the lute from his back and began his tune of inspirational courage while he steered his horse White with his knees off to the side, out of range of the giant banded lizard.  Combat was obviously imminent and this was the best way the bard could help the entire group all at once, he knew.  Thurloe pulled his wand from his belt and cast a _shield_ spell upon himself before tossing it over to Zander so the elf could do the same.  Then he spurred his horse Horse forward, over to the downed elf; leaning over, he grabbed the man by the arm and helped pull him up onto the saddle behind him before steering Horse away from the lizard as well.  Thurloe saw the beast was eagerly chewing up the first horse in bloody gobbets of flesh and wasn't particularly looking for any further combat just yet while it had a meal at the ready; after it finished gobbling up hunks of horse-meat it might be a different story.

Wakuren directed the mules off the road away from the lizard and its grisly meal; neither Mica nor Perseverance needed a whole lot of prompting to put some distance between themselves and the ravenous reptile.  Then the half-orc leaped from the wagon, heading over to the downed wagon to see if he could be of any assistance; there could easily be other people inside the wagon needing help.  Alewyth was the first to initiate combat with the banded lizard; as she prompted Pyrite forward she cast a _spiritual weapon_ spell that caused a warhammer of solid force energy to materialize before her and go streaking to bash into the side of the great reptile's head.  The lizard looked about it for the attacker as it swallowed down its latest mouthful of horse-flesh, not recognizing the force-hammer hovering above its head as the cause of its recent pain.

Xandro cast an _expeditious retreat_ spell on himself and leaped down from his mount, slapping him on his rump to prompt him away from the danger - an act for which White needed no further encouragement.  Thurloe rode the unnamed elf wagon-driver far enough away from the lizard to keep him safe, then helped him down out of the saddle while he pulled his bow from his back and nocked an arrow for combat.  Then, wheeling Horse around to face their enemy, Thurloe took aim and let fly.

Zander cast a _haste_ spell on the group while they were all still within range, while Wakuren cast a _divine favor_ spell on himself as he raced to attack the giant lizard with his only weapon, his shield.  Alewyth likewise cast a _divine favor_ spell upon herself before leaping from her dire goat and sending Pyrite away out of danger.  Her _spiritual warhammer_ continued its attack on the lizard, who apparently thought the spell effect to be some kind of flying insect and snapped at it.  With the lizard thus distracted, the elven driver ran to the rear of his wagon to open the door in the back, an awkward act given the wagon was on its side.

The lizard had by this time swallowed the chunks of horse-meat it had ripped from the poor wagon-mount's corpse and thus had its mouth free when Wakuren came within range to attack it with the edge of his shield.  Quicker than the half-orc would have believed possible, the reptile darted its head forward and snapped him up into its mouth; Wakuren found himself using his shield to block the creature's numerous sharp teeth from piercing him through his armor.  Seeing his friend in trouble, Xandro used his spell-enhanced speed to race over to the creature's flank, over by its left back leg (where he hoped he'd be out of immediate range of its wicked teeth) and stabbed at the beast with his _frost short sword_.  Thurloe likewise came running to Wakuren's rescue, dropping his bow and pulling out his bastard sword as he closed the gap between himself and the towering reptile.  He drew upon his _torc of the titans_ to add extra strength to his blow, which caused his blade to sink deep between the lizard's banded scales.

Zander knew quite well he was not well-equipped for melee combat and thus held back, casting a _magic missile_ spell at the beast.  The lizard was at this point quite flustered at the multiple opponents attacking it from all directions; it had just been hiding in ambush under the sands until it felt the vibrations indicating an approaching pair of horses and an easy meal.  Wakuren tried using the lizard's confusion - it had momentarily stopped trying to chew him - to wrest himself free from its maw, to no avail; it might not be actively chewing him but the half-orc lacked the strength to force it to open its mouth wide enough for him to wriggle out.

The _spiritual warhammer_ dipped in for another attack as Alewyth leaped into combat with _Sjondra_ in hand and the elf started pulling weapons out of his wagon: a string of very nicely crafted weapons of all types: longswords, short swords, scimitars, daggers, and axes.  He tossed them out with a look of desperation, occasionally looking back over the desert sands, where a plume of dust at the horizon hinted at an approaching group of riders.

The lizard suddenly recalled it had a morsel in its mouth and started trying to chew Wakuren's armored form as it swiped at Thurloe and Alewyth with claws glistening with moisture - likely poison, the dwarven priestess realized.  Fortunately, neither of the claw attacks met their mark, although the cries of pain from inside the reptile's mouth indicated Wakuren was not having an easy time of it.  Thurloe and Xandro redoubled their efforts with their blades while Zander repositioned himself and cast a _scorching ray_ spell at the massive reptile.  The continued onslaught was finally taking its toll and the banded lizard was wobbling on its feet when Wakuren turned his shield upside-down and stabbed upwards with all of his might, sending the pointed tip of the shield's bottom stabbing up into the roof of the lizard's mouth.  He was rewarded for his efforts with a gush of blood spilling down upon him and the lizard collapsing down upon the desert floor, dead.  It took Thurloe and Alewyth to help tug open the beast's mouth so Wakuren could scramble out, but at least he was finally free.

"Help me!" called the elf from the back of the wagon, prompting the heroes to assume he was under attack from another enemy.  But he just wanted help unloading the weapons from his overturned wagon - a wagon which wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, for one of its axles had broken during the spill, one wooden wheel had shattered, and the wall pinned to the ground had been cracked open when the wagon landed on a large stone.

"What's going on?" Thurloe demanded as Alewyth took a handful of weapons from the elf.

"Orc raiding party," the elf replied.  "Heading this way from out of the desert.  My falcon familiar has confirmed it.  But this spot will do as well as any other - I need these weapons lined up in a row beside the wagon."

"Why?" Thurloe persisted as Zander took the weapons from Alewyth and passed them on to Xandro, who in turn handed them over to Wakuren.  They made a sort of bucket brigade, handing weapon after weapon down the line as Wakuren lined them up nicely along the ground.

"My family was killed by orc raiders," the elf explained.  "I'm a wizard, and I have researched a ritual that allow me to animate these weapons into a living _blade barrier_ spell that will take them out."  He closed his eyes and concentrated on the link with his falcon familiar, who was high up in the air and confirming the orcs' numbers.  "There is a band of eleven orcs, all riding desert horses," the elf said.  "They'll be here in little over a minute, so either help me line up the weapons or at least get out of my way!"  Without another word Thurloe went to the back of the line by Wakuren and started lining up the weapons as they were passed his way.

Once the weapons were laid out to the elf's satisfaction, he pulled out a sheet of parchment and began muttering arcane syllables, beginning the ritual.  "We got time for some preparations of our own," offered up Thurloe, attempting to cast a _protection from evil_ spell on himself in his full armor but messing it up and swearing as it dissipated to nothingness.  In the meantime, Alewyth cast a _magic circle against evil_ spell on herself, followed by a _bless_ spell on the assembled group.  Wakuren cast _bull's strength_ spells on himself and Thurloe, a _cure serious wounds_ spell upon himself (using his magic ring to increase the amount of healing energy he was able to channel), and a _bear's endurance_ spell upon Zander before activating his other ring and becoming invisible.  Xandro cast a _cure light wounds_ spell through his lute on the half-orc before he disappeared from view, for the bard could see Wakuren still had some visible wounds from the lizard's sharp teeth.

"Here they come," Alewyth noted as the orcs rode into view, clouds of dust rising behind their horses' hooves.  They were spread out in a wide line and headed directly for the overturned wagon.  *Morisar Nemertel* - Zander had recognized the elf wizard's proffered name as meaning "deathseeker slainheart" in the Elven tongue and imagined it was the name he had given himself after the deaths of his wife and daughter at the hands of orc raiders as the wizard had been bound and forced to watch - had his back turned to the orcs, reading from the notes he held in his left hand while he reached for a handaxe at his belt with his right.  The heroes had dropped back behind the wagon for cover and were looking worriedly at the wizard, hoping he'd get the ritual finished up in time before the orcs got too much closer.  And wouldn't it have made more sense to have lined the weapons up _behind_ the wagon?

The orc leader, an adept whose owl familiar had flown ahead of the orcs and had scoped out the giant banded lizard they'd been tracking for days had already been slain by a band of warriors, merely merely saw that as a bonus: new weapons and armor for their own band in addition to the flesh, teeth, and claws of the reptile they'd been after.  He cast a _protection from good_ spell upon himself while absently wondering what that elf was up to with his back turned to him.  Was this some sort of show of fearlessness?  And what was the line of gleaming metal at his feet?  Then his owl reported on the five heroes off to the side and he grinned an evil grin: he and his ten men could easily take on a group of six adventurers!

The orcs continued their advance and the desert horses increased their speed as their prey came into view.  But then Xandro pointed his _wand of sound burst_ at a group of the orcs and fired off a shot.  He got three of the orc riders and their mounts with his attack and one of the horses was stunned into immobility, sending his barbarian rider flying over his head to come to an abrupt halt face-first in the sand.  Zander followed suit with a spell-attack of his own; he'd deduced the adept as some kind of spellcaster based on his hand-gestures when casting the _protection from good_ spell on himself and further deduced he was the sole spellcaster among the group based on him being the only one whose hair was adorned with feathers, a frequent display of spellcasting prestige among the desert orcs.  Thus, Zander cast his _scorching ray_ spell at the adept, sending a gout of flames to explode at the orc's chest.  It identified Zander as a fellow spellcaster and certainly made him a target, but the elf had no doubt he was already high up on their list given his elven heritage; elves were particularly hated by the orcish race.

Wakuren raced forward towards the approaching raiders, confident in his _ring of invisibility_ to keep him safe - and fully forgetting he was leaving footprints behind him in the sand as he ran.  But he got close enough to cast a _bane_ spell on a group of close-quarters orcs that included the adept, all four barbarians, and one of the two rangers riding off to the side, as well as all of their desert mounts.  Despite his father having been of the orcish race, Wakuren had little knowledge of the creatures himself - he didn't even speak their language, nor did he have much of a desire to learn to do so.  If these orcs were in the habit of performing acts like Morisar had said, he wanted nothing to do with them.

Alewyth moved over to the other side of the wizard's wagon and cast a summoning spell that caused a celestial bison to manifest directly in the path of one of the advancing orc fighters.  It lowered its bulky head and charged, its horn tearing into the orc's makeshift armor and cutting a furrow through the flesh beneath.  The orc rangers veered toward the new threat, throwing javelins into the bison's side.  It grunted as its only acknowledgement of the pain caused by the weapons and carried on its attack.

Thurloe took the opportunity to try a new spell, _mirror image_.  He cast it successfully and now there were five Thurloes wandering around, the real one and four illusory duplicates.  All five of them had an identical bastard sword in hand but fumbled at their belts and pulled out identical wands.  The five of them all started heading over by Alewyth.

Another _scorching ray_ went coursing across the battlefield, but this one had been cast by the adept and targeted against the celestial bison.  Two of the orc barbarians wheeled their horses up against the white-furred beast and stabbed at it with their falchions, staining its snowy fur red with blood as it staggered to the desert sands and disappeared, its slain body returning to the celestial realms from which it had been summoned.  The other two barbarians both took a swing at where they had figured Wakuren was standing, although they had no idea the invisible foe had orcish blood flowing through his veins.  Wakuren dodged one blow but the other struck him on the side and it was only then he realized his tracks in the sand had given him away.

Xandro picked up his tune of inspirational courage while all five Thurloes aimed their _wands of magic missile_ at the orcish spellcaster.  Fifteen individual missiles went shrieking across the desert sands to strike the orc, only three of them doing any real harm.  Zander ran  to the far side of the overturned wagon and dropped his _jade cooshee_ to the ground, calling out the command word that brought the elven dog to life.  The cooshee didn't need any orders from his master; it dashed out across the desert sands in a bee-line for the mounted adept, its magic-enhanced eyesight showing that particular orc to be the only one holding spells his master might put to better use.  But two orcish fighters swung their weapon at the canine as he rushed past, heedless of his own safety, and as a result the poor dog was too weak to be able to snag a spell from the adept's mind as he had intended.

Knowing the orcs all about him had a way of detecting his location, the still-invisible Wakuren cast an _obscuring mist_ spell around himself, encompassing the adept and the four barbarians, one of the latter still unmounted since his spill from his dazed horse.  Behind him to his right, the four orc fighters raced up to Zander Quilson and Xandro, their blades swinging for blood.  But back by the line of weapons, Morisar drew his own blood in a quite unexpected fashion as he brought his right hand up and the hatchet it held swung down to sever his left hand at the wrist.  Blood spurted from his stump and the wizard aimed it at the line of weapons, walking down its length, spilling his blood upon each blade in turn.  Then he began calling out the words to bring his living spell to life: "Morath ennavari--"

That's as far as he got, for at that point his throat was pierced by a javelin thrown by one of the orc rangers and he fell to the desert sands as all about him the bloody weapons rose up of their own accord and started dancing about in rhythmic patterns.  Another hurled javelin pierced the elf wizard in the back where he lay and he died, the final word of his ritual unspoken on his lips.  Thus, the full set of intended instructions, "death to each living orc," had been truncated to "death to each living."  Brought to unholy life, the living _blade barrier_ spell sent its weapons clashing and whirling as it sensed all around it for lives to slay.  It found a nearby target and wriggled its way over to Thurloe, its numerous blades cutting through his armor and causing one of his mirror-duplicates to pop like a soap bubble.

Alewyth cast another _spiritual weapon_ and sent the force-hammer crashing into the side of one of the orc fighters attacking Zander, nearly spilling him from his mount.  The dwarf looked over to what Thurloe was yelling about and was surprised to see him - and three others looking just as bedraggled - limping away from a wall of whirling weapons. 

The orcs inside the _obscuring mist_ spell decided to get out of there as soon as possible so they could see normally again.  Each led their horse in a random direction until they emerged once more under the desert sun.  The cooshee followed the orc adept and his mount, leaping up at the spellcaster and trying to fetch a spell slot for his master.  But the adept was as well-armed as his other men and cut the dog down with a slash of his falchion and the _jade cooshee_ fell to the sand with a soft thud.  Then the adept turned his horse towards his fighters and sped forward.

The three mounted barbarians made it out of the area of darkness without incident but the one on foot found himself facing a wall of whirling blades once he was back out in the sunlight.  He quickly dodged off to his left, heading towards the relative safety of the orc fighters.

Xandro charged one of the fighters, slashing at him with his _frost short sword_.  Thurloe decided he needed to added maneuverability and speed Horse provided and fled back to his mount, leaping up into the saddle with practiced ease.  Of course, that meant his three remaining _mirror images_ followed suit, so when Thurloe sent Horse speeding towards the mounted orc fighters he was flanked on either side by an ever-shifting gaggle of three other Thurloes hovering around him - which kind of gave the game away as to which one was the real one and which three the illusory images.  Alewyth came to a similar realization about increased mobility and ran back to Pyrite, climbing up onto the dire goat's saddle and spurring him forward in to battle against the nearest orc fighter while her _spiritual warhammer_ slew another fighter and sent him falling from his saddle.

Zander cast another _magic missile_ at the approaching adept, partly wanting to take him out of the fight because he wasn't sure just how powerful his spellcasting ability was but also partly in retaliation for having slain his elven dog, even though he knew he'd be able to summon him back to life again the next day.  Then he found himself dodging the incoming falchion-blows of a pair of enraged orc fighters, the other two focusing their attacks on Xandro for the moment.

Wakuren sped out of the _obscuring mist_ and took a barbarian by surprise by slamming him with his shield, nearly spilling him from his horse.  That brought the half-orc back into full visibility once again, but invisibility wasn't all it was cracked up to be in the desert sands.

The two rangers spurred their horses around what they both assumed to be a static _blade barrier_ spell and were surprised beyond belief when it lurched to cut them off.  Dozens of razor-sharp blades cut the rangers and their mounts to ribbons; neither of the four made it out of the living spell alive.

The orc adept cast his last _scorching ray_ of the day at Alewyth, engulfing the dwarven priestess in a gout of flame.  He felt the rage building up inside him, that these upstarts would dare to fight back against his raiders after having first stolen the giant banded lizard kill from them after they'd spent two days tracking it!  He'd make sure they all paid for their effrontery!

Wakuren soon found himself pinned between two mounted orc barbarians, who called taunts out at him in a language he didn't understand as their blades came swinging in against what they considered a race-traitor.  A half-orc throwing in his lot with a pair of elves?  Unforgivable!  The barbarian on foot reached one of the riderless mounts and leaped up upon it, steering it back into battle.  But another barbarian had stopped his mount cold at the sight of the living _blade barrier_ spell chewing up the two rangers and their horses like they were nothing.  If these adventurers were capable of such magic, perhaps it would be best to allow them to keep the banded lizard for themselves and seek their next targets a bit more wisely!

Xandro's _frost blade_ took the life of another of the orc fighters, his lifeless body dropping to the desert sands and the now-unencumbered horse high-tailing it out of the area.  Thurloe (and his hovering triplets) charged another fighter, nearly decapitating him with his bastard sword - another raider down!  Zander slew another of the barbarians with a _scorching ray_ spell and all of a sudden the fight was no longer as lopsided as it had been at the start.  Wakuren killed a barbarian, pushing him from his mount and then crushing his windpipe with the edge of his shield before the orc could rise up from where he'd fallen prone.  Riderless horses ran this way and that as their erstwhile masters were slain.

A fighter came rushing at Alewyth, his falchion striking a glancing blow off her armor before she retaliated with a blow of her own with _Sjondra_.  Then the orc was taken from behind by a mass of flying blades as the living spell crept up behind the unwary raider.  Alewyth pulled Pyrite farther away from the mass of whirling blades, realizing when their fight with the orcs was over they'd still have to deal with Morisar's deadly spell-monster lest it continue its random swath of death and destruction into the homes of the nearest village.

The orc adept was still in the fight, but only because he'd taken the time to cast a few healing spells upon himself to seal up the worst of his wounds.  But his body pulsated with power and he was eager for vengeance against those who had slain so many of his men.  As he watched, Wakuren held his shield up to deflect a series of blows from one of the adept's strongest barbarian warriors, only to have the lanky human with the musical instrument strapped to his back stab the orc in the back and then step back as the barbarian fell face-first into the sand, dead from the bard's blow.  The adept roared with frustration and looked to see who he could vent his anger upon.

The closest enemy was riding straight towards the orc spellcaster and for some reason he had three others who looked just like him hovering around him.  The adept raised his falchion and spurred his own desert horse forward, eager to match blades with this strange warrior with the acrobatic duplicates.  But then the four identical Thurloes each raised a wand and pointed it at the wounded adept and the _magic missile_ spell slew the orc before the horses met up.  Relieved of the burden from his back, the orc's mount veered off and left the field of battle.

The lone barbarian had been watching this debacle unfold.  Now it seemed he was the last survivor of his band and no longer under the sway of the adept, whose orders had been more and more erratic over the past few weeks.  Shaking his head in sadness at the loss of his brothers-in-arms, the sole remaining member of the Tribe of the Lost's raiding party turned his horse back the way they'd come and raced away.

"We need to take out those flying weapons!" Alewyth called to the others as she pointed to the living _blade barrier_ spell.

"Ranged weapons and spells!" advised Thurloe, who had seen first-hand what happened when one ventured too close to the living spell.  He fetched his bow and started shooting arrows at the living spell while Zander peppered it with _magic missiles_ and _scorching rays_.  Alewyth's _spiritual warhammer_ finally winked out and she was left scavenging the bodies of the orc raiders for their javelins.  It was slow going, but eventually they wore down the living spell and its weapons all went flying in all directions as the magic binding them together was sundered.  Thurloe rode up to the nearest of the scattered weapons and snorted in disgust; despite having been of quite masterwork quality when they'd lined them all up in the sand for Morisar, they were now all nicked and grooved from constant contact with each other as they flew about and were virtually worthless.

However, there were a few goods to be retrieved.  The orc adept had the only item of magical value among the orcs, a necklace of the teeth of desert predators that Alewyth's _detect magic_ spell indicated toughened the skin of the wearer.  Morisar's cloak was likewise magical, suffused in an aura of abjuration that protected the wearer with a limited ability to deflect damage.  Recovered from the wagon's interior were a _quill of transcription_ which wrote down the words spoken by the owner; a flask of _elixir of dreamless sleep_ with six doses remaining (for poor Morisar apparently suffered from repeated nightmares of the deaths of his wife and daughter); a silver holy symbol of Akari, God of Death and Undeath, with rubies in place of the skull's eyes; and a pair of ivory cameos, side views of elven ladies, no doubt his slain family members.  Alewyth insisted upon giving the slain elf wizard a proper burial, there by the side of the road where he'd been killed seeking his vengeance against the orcs.  Of his falcon familiar there was no sight; it had apparently flown off upon its master's death.

The orcs were left to rot in the sun where they'd been slain.  Wakuren had been the one to fetch the adept's necklace of teeth and he swore he felt a shudder of revulsion course through his skin upon touching the body of the slain leader of the raiders.  The necklace had been given to Xandro; Wakuren had wanted nothing to do with it.  Instead, he took Morisar's cloak, promising the elf's spirit he would long remember his courage and dedication in seeking his vengeance.

"Let's be gone from here," Wakuren sighed once Morisar had been put to rest.

"Caldovia should be about a half hour down the road," pointed out Thurloe, pulling himself up onto Horse's saddle and leading the way to the town where they were to find their next dream victim.

Caldovia was indeed not that far away, but the reception they received was not all they had expected.  Upon seeing Wakuren at the front of the mule wagon, a half dozen villagers picked up clubs and hammers - whatever weapon they could grab up, pretty much - and blocked the way.  Wakuren pulled back on the mules' reins as the others came to a halt beside him.  "What seems to be the problem?" he asked pleasantly.

One of the villagers spit on the ground before answering.  "Exactly what you'd expect, orc!" he sneered.  "You got a lot of nerve riding into town after all the times your kind came raiding in from the desert.  And you!" - here he pointed a finger at the others on their riding mounts - "Orc sympathizers, are you?  You ought to be ashamed!"

"First one of you comes at me with their weapons dies here in the street," promised Thurloe, hefting his bastard sword at the ready over one shoulder.

"Hold on," demanded Alewyth.  "Can you not see the mark of Cal on Wakuren's armor and shield?  He's a holy man!"

"Don't mean nothing," replied the leader of the six men.  "Orcs'll wear any armor, wield any weapons they can scavenge.  Everybody knows that."  He looked ready to attack, but kept glancing nervously at Thurloe and seemed to be waiting for one of his men to make the first move.  Alewyth took advantage of the man's hesitation to cast a _calm emotions_ spell on the assembled villagers.  Then, once everyone had calmed down, she personally vouched for Wakuren's good character and explained why they were in town in the first place.

Caldovia was a small enough village that everybody knew exactly who the adventurers were looking for: *Jingo Pebble-Brain*, who worked odd jobs for those who needed them done.  "He's big as a mountain and dumb as a brick, but a nice enough guy" was the common opinion but while he had last been seen at *McGillicuddy*'s Inn, nobody was quite sure of his current whereabouts - until they met up with an elderly woman who gave them a better idea of Jingo's current predicament.  "It's horrible what that nasty old skinflint has done with poor Jingo.  I suggest you check out the stables behind McGillicuddy's Inn, and bless you all if you can put a stop to it."

That warranted a trip to McGillicuddy's Inn.  Wakuren activated his _ring of invisibility_ and headed directly to the stables while the others decided to confront the innkeeper.  "Jingo?" replied McGillicuddy.  "Yeah, I hire him now and again when I got work for him, but I haven't seen him in a couple of weeks now.  Probably wandered off again and got hisself lost - the boy's not all there upstairs, you know what I mean?"

"So you have no idea where he is?" pushed Alewyth.

"That's what I said.  Now, you folk interested in renting some rooms or purchasing a meal or something to drink?  'Cause otherwise, I don't think we got anything further to discuss."

"I found him," came Wakuren's whispered voice in Alewyth's ear.  The dwarf said that would be all for now and turned to leave, the other three following suit.  Wakuren canceled his invisibility once back over at the stables.  "He's here, in a stall at the back," he said, his voice hardened with anger.

A few horses nickered in their stalls as Wakuren went all the way to the back of the stables.  There, in the farthest stall to the right, lay an enormous man - probably six and a half feet tall when standing - propped up in the corner, fast asleep.  His bald head glistened with wetness; he lay in a puddle of urine and his clothes all reeked of the stuff.  A tin cup along the wall held a few silver pieces; apparently McGillicuddy had found a way to earn some money from his handyman while he was trapped in a dream coma, by offering the opportunity to the townsfolk to relieve their bladders on Jingo as he slept.

"That little weasel!" fumed Alewyth.  "We can't perform the ritual here, with Jingo like that!"  She cast a _produce water_ spell that cleaned the worst of the urine off of his skin and clothes, then they lifted him up and placed him in their wagon.

"Where's a safe place to do the ritual?" Xandro asked.  They decided to go back to find the elderly lady who had told them where Jingo could be found.  Sure enough, she allowed the group to bring Jingo inside and lay him down on her living room floor.  Once they explained the ritual they'd be performing, the lady agreed to watch over them as they all slept and ensure they weren't disturbed.

Jingo's dream was almost sad in its purity.  He was on his hands and knees, building a tower out of painted wooden blocks.  A handful of children, four or five years old, were gathered and watched him with rapt attention.  Once he had used up all the blocks, the kids clapped and Jingo beamed at his construction.  "Whose turn to knock it over?" he asked.

"Me!" cried one of the girls, and Jingo watched as she knocked it over, dancing with excitement at the collapsing tower.

"I'm next!" one of the little boys cried.  "Build it again, Jingo!"  Jingo scooped the blocks together in a pile and started painstakingly building another tower.  His tongue poked out the side of his mouth as he concentrated.

"Oh, the poor guy," Alewyth sighed.  "I almost hate to have to wake him.  His life here in the dream is so much better than the one he's stuck with in the real world."  She turned to the others.  "Do you think we might just leave him?"

"I don't know if that's a good idea," replied Wakuren.  "Whatever reason the Nightmare King has for trapping people in their dreams, it's best if we stop him when we can."  There were already two dreamers the group had been unable to wake from their dreams, a dwarf in an underground city and a bard back in Baron's Haven.

"Then how do we wake Jingo from this dream?" asked Zander.

"I could try killing him," suggested Thurloe, unsheathing his bastard sword.  Then, seeing the scathing looks his friends were giving him, he asked, "What?  This is just a dream!  Killing him here won't kill him back in the real world!"  If Jingo heard any of their talk of killing him he gave it no notice - he was focused on building his tower.

"We're not killing him - what's wrong with you?" chided Alewyth.

"I could try killing the kids - maybe he'll wake up without an audience."  When Alewyth turned on the fighter the look on his face told he had said that just to provoke a reaction out of her.  She chose not to give him the satisfaction.  Instead, she turned to Jingo and said, "That's a nice building, Jingo, but we have to go now."

"Okay," said Jingo at once, getting to his feet and leaving his building half-constructed.  He waved to the kids, who all waved back at him.  "Maybe I can come back later," he said hopefully.  Then Alewyth led him out of the door to his dream and the others followed.  Jingo disappeared from the dreamlands upon exiting his dream; the dreamwalkers all willed themselves back to wakefulness and found themselves back in the elderly woman's living room, sitting in a ring around Jingo, who was struggling to a sitting position.  "Hello," he said bashfully upon seeing the strangers positioned all around him.

"Hello, Jingo," Alewyth said, smiling at the bald man.  "How do you feel?"

Jingo took a quick stock of the situation.  "I'm all wet," he said.  "And something stinks."  He rubbed his tongue on his sleeve as if trying to get rid of a bad taste in his mouth.

"I'll help you get cleaned up," offered the old woman.  "And you can stay here with me, if you'd like.  I have an extra bedroom in the back that isn't being used."

"Okay," agreed Jingo.  The group talked it over quietly among themselves and agreed this was probably the best situation Jingo could hope for.  Alewyth gathered up some of their funds and set the coins down on an end table.  "This ought to help you with expenses for a few months," the dwarven priestess explained.

"Why, bless you - bless you all!" replied the elderly lady.  And then the dreamwalkers returned to their wagon and mounts outside, ready to leave Caldovia behind and head to their next dream victim.

"Where do you think you're all going?" demanded Thurloe.  "We're not done here in town just yet."  He explained how he intended to kill McGillicuddy for what he'd done to Jingo.  "Guy like that's gotta be irredeemably evil," he reasoned.

"Nobody's irredeemably evil," countered Wakuren.

"You use your aura-sight on him?"

"Yes, and he is in fact evil," admitted Wakuren.  "But if you kill everyone because they're evil you prevent them from turning their life around.  There's no possibility for redemption, then."

"You think McGillicuddy's gonna turn his life around?" demanded Thurloe, forcing Wakuren to concede it wasn't likely.

"We can't come riding into town and kill people we don't like - no matter how much they deserve it," added Alewyth.  "That'd make us no better than the orc raiders who come riding into town and taking what they want, killing anyone who gets in their way."  She talked Thurloe out of his killing mood by agreeing they'd take vengeance on the innkeeper, as long as they kept it to the nonlethal variety.

And thus it was that the next morning, after the dreamwalkers had long since left Caldovia, McGillicuddy was found drunken and naked in a goat pen in town; to all appearances he'd been enjoying himself with the goats and had slept it off when he finished his partying.  That's the story that made it across town, in any case, and nobody believed his stories of having been abducted in the middle of the night and force-fed bottles of his own ale until he passed out.

 - - -

I had a good time prepping the minis for this adventure the night before we played.  After gathering up an appropriate amount of orc minis - an adept, two rangers, four barbarians, and four fighters - and an equal number of horses (many of them from Toobs collections), I spent a good half-hour or so using rather small rubber bands (the ones used to hold a ponytail in place, which my granddaughter suggested I purchase to keep my hair out of my face back when I did water aerobics) to keep the orc minis balanced on the back of the horse minis.  That ended up working out just fine as a visual, and in the few cases where an orc was dismounted it was easy enough to remove the rubber band and split them up.  (The horses usually wandered away from the active fighting when they had no rider spurring them on to battle.)

Jingo had been intended as a recurring NPC - I statted him out as an NPC hireling who could join the group so they'd have someone to tend to their animals, much like the NPC "Old Clem" did back in our "Wing Three" campaign.  But the players didn't want to have to be responsible for him so they set him up with the kindly old lady who had found out how McGillicuddy had been misusing him.

 - - -

T-shirt worn: Given the orcs' traditional chaotic evil nature, my "Chaotic Evil Means Never Having To Say You're Sorry" T-shirt was the most appropriate, so that's what I went with.


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## Richards (May 8, 2022)

*ADVENTURE 28: DESERT DREAMS*

PC Roster: 
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 6​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 3​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 3/paladin 3​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 5/rogue 1​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 6​
Game Session Date: 30 April 2022

 - - -

"This sucks," remarked Thurloe from his perch in Horse's saddle.

"The next dreamer happens to be in the middle of the Centralia Desert," commented Wakuren, sitting in his customary seat in the wagon, the reins to both mules in his hands.  "And if you'll recall, I did offer to cast an _endure elements_ spell on you," the half-orc reminded Thurloe.  He, Alewyth, and Xandro had all had the spell cast upon them, keeping them relatively comfortable in the heat of the burning sun - so much so they still wore their armor.  Zander Quilson had eschewed the spell as he wore no armor, merely robes - and opted to keep the hood of his robe over his head to protect him from sunburn.  Thurloe had opted instead to do without his armor, which he had stashed in the back of the wagon.  He'd also insisted he didn't need an _endure elements_ spell and his attitude at the time had strongly hinted the others were somewhat weak in relying upon spellpower for mere comfort.  Now he wiped sweat from his brow with a rag for the umpteenth time that morning.  Wakuren was pretty sure it was merely pure stubbornness and a refusal to admit he'd been wrong preventing Thurloe from asking for an _endure elements_ spell to be cast upon him.  Either that or he didn't want to look weaker than Zander, who seemed to be doing just fine without it.

Thurloe said nothing but just grunted in irritation, making another pass across the back of his neck with his rag.

Then there was a sudden bit of movement off to their left and before Zander could warn the others a black-armored scorpion larger than any of their horses skittered up from between a clump of low cactus plants, its pincer-claws open wide for an attack.  It was aiming either for Alewyth on her dire goat mount, Pyrite, or the left-most of the mules, Perseverance.  As the dwarven priestess urged her goat forward out of range, Zander cast a _haste_ spell upon the five heroes and Thurloe's horse, figuring of the various mounts Thurloe's was the one most likely to be brought directly into battle against the monstrous scorpion.  Alewyth cast a spell of her own once Pyrite was out of immediate danger and a _spiritual warhammer_ appeared in the air above her head, hovered for a brief moment, and then went streaking over to strike the scorpion's hardened carapace.

Thurloe cast a quick _mage armor_ spell on himself to take the place of his own armor and pulled the bastard sword from its sheath on his back.  Unnoticed, the rag he'd been using to wipe away sweat fell from his hand and fluttered to the hard-packed dirt of the desert as he spurred Horse around the wagon and positioned him for a charge into battle.

The scorpion's claws snapped shut near Perseverance's left rear leg, but Wakuren had steered the mules away to the right and the claw missed its target.  Zander pulled back on Eddy's reins so he wouldn't be struck by the mule-wagon as it crossed directly in front of them, then sent a _magic missile_ spell darting over the back of the wagon to strike the scorpion at the base of its venomous tail, already raised to strike.  Then Alewyth leaped down from her mount and raced across the desert sands with a speed greatly enhanced by Zander's _haste_ spell, to bring _Sjondra_ crashing into the arachnid's left legs.  She felt one of them snap under the force of her blow, then her _spiritual weapon_ slammed down upon its back with another strike.  But it was Thurloe, charging in upon Horse from the other side of the scorpion, who slew it with a blow from his bastard sword.  The heavy body crashed to the ground, the venom-dripping tail stinger not having been able to be brought to bear even once.

"Everybody okay?" Wakuren asked.  Alewyth returned to Pyrite's saddle as her _spiritual warhammer_ winked back out of existence.  Thurloe wiped the arachnid's ichor off his blade and resheathed it.  "How much longer you figure it is to the dreamer?" he asked.  They'd been traveling through the desert for two days now and he had seen enough hard-packed earth and scraggly cactus plants for a lifetime.

"Probably no more than a couple of hours," guessed Wakuren, steering the mules back into the direction they'd been traveling before the sudden ambush.  The others assembled back into their standard formation.

"This sucks," repeated Thurloe, his opinion of the situation not having changed any by the scorpion's attack.  But in another two hours they saw the first signs of habitation they'd seen for the last couple of days: a thin line of smoke rising up into the desert sky.  "I'll bet that's it up ahead," hazarded Wakuren, hoping to get Thurloe out of his grumpiness.

"Better be," the fighter-wizard grumbled.

As they approached, they saw the smoke rose from the chimney of a dwelling made of hard-packed mud, a large, rectangular building with the corners rounded off.  There were two hemispherical structures off to the right of the building, each about 20 feet in diameter, but Wakuren's attention was caught by the woman who had stepped outside upon their approach.  She was human, wearing a cloth garment covering her entire body, with a wrapping over her head that looked to be a long scarf wound into a loose turban of some sort.  She was unarmed but looked suspiciously at the approaching group - and focused fearfully upon the half-orc exclusively once she got a good look at him.

Wakuren wasn't offended, having spent his whole life with people judging him by his fearsome appearance.  So he brought his favorite weapon to bear, flashing a wide smile that showed a bit of teeth but none of his small tusks, while raising both hands to show he was unarmed.  "Good afternoon," he said, beaming.  "We have come because we believe there is someone trapped in their dreams here - and we have a means to help them."

"How--?" stammered the woman.  "How did you know?"

"Then there is someone here asleep?  And unable to be awakened?" asked Alewyth.

"There is, yes - my brother, *Jazaar*.  But forgive me.  My name is *Djamila*.  You look like you have traveled far.  Please, come in - I offer you the hospitality of our home."  She pulled aside the rug hanging over the sole doorway into her mud-baked home.  "Please enter, and my sisters will fetch you fresh water and cactus fruit before you try to wake our brother."

Alewyth entered the dwelling, noting the floor was stone, recently swept.  She didn't fail to notice the four spears leaning against the wall near the entryway, a handy form of defense against intruders (although she absently wondered if they were so concerned about intruders why they didn't have a proper door instead of just a hanging carpet to keep out the blowing sand and dust).  The others followed after ensuring the reins of their various mounts were tied to the wagon so they wouldn't wander about.  Wakuren was the last to enter the dwelling, bowing low to Djamila in an effort to show even half-breed orcs could be trained to have good manners.

Once inside, Djamila introduced her two sisters, *Maheen* and *Suhana*, while Alewyth likewise introduced the members of her own small band.  Suhana passed around a plate of cactus fruit while Maheen served the heroes drinking horns of water poured from a large gourd.  Once their guests had been properly refreshed, Djamila began her tale.  "There is not much to tell," she admitted.  "One morning, several weeks ago, Jazaar could not be awakened from his sleeping pallet.  We did everything we could to awaken him, but nothing worked.  And yet, he does not seem to suffer from loss of food or lack or water and he does not waste away as we would have thought.  We have no explanation for how this came to be, unless it is some sort of magical curse.  So tell me, how can you awaken him?"

Alewyth explained the ritual they had performed with much success many times over the past few months.  Djamila feared there was not enough space in Jazaar's room for them to all sit around him and had her sisters push the tables and pillows (used to sit upon in place of chairs) in the communal room up against the walls so Wakuren and Thurloe could lift Jazaar's sleeping pallet from his bedroom into the larger living space.  Jazaar's pet serval, *Hunter*, padded along, curious as to what these strangers were doing with his master.

"Is there anything we can do to assist?" Djamila asked.  Alewyth handed her a dreamstone and a leather headband and had her tie it around her brother's forehead, while the dreamwalkers all did likewise with their own dreamstone headbands.  Zander activated his _jade cooshee_ and had him stand guard over the five as they slept, and Djamila and her sisters agreed to ensure the dreamwalkers were not interrupted during the ritual.  "With any luck, all six of us will be waking up together," Wakuren told the sisters before closing his eyes and slowing his breathing as he performed the mental rituals to prepare his body for sleep.

As always, it took everyone several minutes to all fall asleep and join back up together in the Dreamlands - led by their individual moogle guides, who took them to the Hall of Dreams where Mogo repositioned the hallways of endless doors until he came to the relevant one.  "Here's the dream you're looking for - good luck, kupo!" he told the group as they opened the dream-door and stepped inside the dreamscape.

The dream looked very much like the desert outside, save for the lack of cacti and the strange, purple-and-lavender-streaked sky.  But there was movement directly ahead in the almost featureless landscape, a wriggling mass that became apparent as an enormous, brown caterpillar some 40 feet long.  Its pliant body undulated as its many legs skittered it across the desert wasteland.

Alewyth looked around.  "I don't see Jazaar anywhere," she observed.

"Neither do I," agreed Xandro.  "Maybe the bug got him."

Alewyth raised the second dreamstone she held in her hand back on the Mortal Plane - and thus had with her here in the Dreamlands.  Holding it before her as she would her holy symbol of Aerik had she been trying to turn undead before her, she channeled her will through it in an attempt to weaken the monster-worm.  At her side, Wakuren raised his own dreamstone and followed suit.  "Does it seem to be doing anything?" asked the half-orc.

"Doesn't look like it," admitted Alewyth.  Zander looked worriedly at the size of the approaching caterpillar and cast a _mage armor_ spell upon himself.

"This is stupid," grumbled Thurloe.  "How are we supposed--"  His complaining came to an abrupt halt when he saw the creature's side bulge out and a blade emerge from its rubbery skin.  The blade became a falchion, gripped in a strong hand covered in blood and gore.

"Never mind," Thurloe amended.  "I assume that's Jazaar there."  He held out his dreamstone and tried using it to "home in" on Jazaar, with no effect.

The arm holding the falchion completely emerged from the gash it had cut through the side of the caterpillar's body, followed quickly by a long-haired head and a powerful, muscular body clad in mismatched hides.  The figure was covered in blood, presumably that of the monster worm he'd just cut his way out of.

"Not unless Jazaar's an orc," observed Zander, for the figure spinning about to face the great caterpillar was undoubtedly a member of a desert orcish tribe of raiders - much like the members they'd encountered just days ago.  But while this fellow could have easily passed as a member of the horse-riding raiders they'd fought, none of the dreamwalkers could identify him as anyone they'd seen before - and as far as they knew only one of the orc raiders had survived the attack upon Morisar Nemertel after the heroes had helped save him from the attack of a giant banded lizard.  This orc was definitely not the one they'd encountered earlier.

But then the caterpillar spun the front half of its body around, opened its mouthparts, and swallowed the orc up again before he had an opportunity to bring his weapon to bear against it.  Just that quickly, it was just the five dreamwalkers and the giant caterpillar alone in the desert wasteland.  And as for the caterpillar, having eaten its meal again, it continued crawling forward in the same direction it had been going, ignoring the five armed figures before it.

"What's going on?" Zander asked.  Then he put a hand to his head as if experiencing a sudden headache.

"Are you okay?" asked Alewyth, watching Zander wince in confusion.  Then she noticed Thurloe and Xandro doing the same.  "Guys?  What's up?"

"Nothing much," the bard answered.  "Just felt like something tried contacting me mentally or something."  He looked suspiciously over at the caterpillar but it was steadfastly ignoring the group.  Then a gash erupted on its other side and once again the orc cut his way out to a moment's freedom before being swallowed back up again.

Xandro and Zander Quilson each winced again, putting a hand to their foreheads.  "Something's affecting the three of them, but not us," Wakuren observed, looking at Alewyth.  "I haven't felt anything.  You?"

"Nothing," answered Alewyth.  "Maybe the fact that we're clerics?" she guessed.

But Wakuren saw a possible answer to the questions of why there was no Jazaar in the dream, why the giant caterpillar was ignoring them completely and didn't seem to be affected by their attempts to weaken it with their dreamstones, and why Thurloe, Xandro, and Zander - the three best-looking males among the visitors to the three sisters' home - were somehow being affected by some outside factor.  "We're in the wrong dream!" Wakuren deduced.  "The sisters are doing something to the others while they're sleeping!  Everyone, as fast as you can--wake up!"

"But the cooshee's guarding over us!" argued Zander, but it was too late - Wakuren had already woken himself up and had disappeared from the dreamscape.  As the elf sorcerer looked, Alewyth vanished as well.  Well, he might as well join them....

Wakuren woke up in the same position he'd been in when he fell asleep at the beginning of the ritual: sitting upright in the lotus position the moogles had taught them was most conducive to lucid dreaming, with his hands resting upon his knees.  The crafty half-orc gave no indication he had woken up, peering cautiously from between mostly-closed eyes.  He saw Alewyth sitting cross-legged across from her, _Sjondra_ sitting by her side; she was following his lead and giving no outward indication that she was anything but fast asleep.

But the two clerics were the only dreamwalkers still sitting around Jazaar's sleeping pallet, for the three desert women had each lifted up their own personal target - Djamila carrying Zander, Maheen lifting Xandro, and Suhana cradling Thurloe - and were carrying them off to separate rooms as if the grown men weighed no more than small children.  The elven dog, tail wagging furiously in delight, followed Djamila as she carried his master off to her bedroom, apparently as some sort of game; the woman hadn't harmed Zander so the cooshee followed to see if she wanted to play.  None of the bedrooms had doors, merely hanging blankets cutting them off from the common area of the dwelling.  Wakuren watched as Djamila carried Zander Quilson past a hanging blanket, the cooshee trailing happily.  One doorway over, Suhana carried Thurloe over the threshold to her own sleeping room, while Maheen took a sleeping Xandro into Jazaar's room.  Hunter, the serval, sat where he was and watched the proceedings with feline indifference.

And then Jazaar sprang up from his sleeping pallet and ran over to Wakuren, placing a powerful right hand over the half-orc's mouth and nose as he tried suffocating the cleric of Cal into unconsciousness, his left arm pinned around Wakuren's windpipe.  Wakuren immediately gave up all pretenses of still being asleep and fought back as best he could.   Fortunately, Alewyth was there in a heartbeat, _Sjondra_ crashing into Jazaar's back in an effort to get him to release Wakuren.

Thurloe awoke from the dreamlands to find himself lying upon a low sleeping pallet large enough for two, with the scabbard holding his bastard sword already on the ground alongside his belt with its housing for his two wands, his _torc of the titans_ off from around his neck, and to see Suhana looming over him, pulling off his magical _ring of protection_.  Xandro awoke to a similar situation, with Maheen removing the items of value from his person and making a nice pile on a folded blanket that had earlier served as the serval's bed.  And Zander Quilson had Djamila bending over him as he lay upon her double-sized sleeping pallet while she made an ever-growing pile comprised of his dagger, _scout's headband_, and magical ring, wand, amulet, and brooch.  Worse yet, his trusty cooshee was watching her do this, tail wagging happily as he watched his master's valuables being stolen.

Alewyth felt a set of claws rip along the backs of her legs; having concentrated exclusively upon fighting off Jazaar she'd ignored the serval who was now springing into action against his master's attacker.  Wakuren managed to extricate himself from Jazaar's clutches and belatedly used his paladin training to detect for evil in the general area; he wasn't the least bit surprised to find out there was indeed evil about.  He grabbed up his shield from the floor at his side and crashed it into the side of the desert-dweller's head, spinning him about.  But Jazaar took that as an opportunity to attack Alewyth, who was momentarily distracted by the serval's attacks.  Jazaar didn't look to be armed, but it felt like a massive slab of heavy wood had just coming crashing down upon her head.

Hearing the fight going on in the common area, the sisters decided to press their attacks as well.  Djamila grabbed at Zander Quilson but the elf rolled off the far side of the sleeping pallet; sadly, this bought him only a moment's respite before she had caught him up in her arms and pinned him tightly to her body.  The elf tried to free himself to no avail, clearly overpowered by a slight human woman not even as tall as himself.  But the cooshee, now aware that playtime had somehow ended and this woman, who had only bent over and kissed Zander while he sat in a circle in the other room with his friends before scooping him up and taking him to this other room, was now trying to hurt his master.  Barking furiously for her to stop, the elven hound clawed at her with his front paws but failed to get her to release Zander from her crushing grasp.  The elf saw black spots before his eyes and realized he was mere moments away from passing out; he couldn't get in any air as she crushed him between her powerful arms.

The next room over, Suhana slashed at Thurloe with her own claws and caught him up in a bear hug from which he was surprised to find he could not escape.  But then the fighter-wizard was no longer there; having activated his _anklet of translocation_ - an item she hadn't yet gotten around to removing - Thurloe _teleported_ the ten feet to his pile of belongings and scooped up his bastard sword, pulling it from its sheath and aiming it at the slight woman in the desert robes before him.  She clawed at him with her fingernails but couldn't get close enough to grapple him in a bear hug with the blade pointed at her.

And in Jazaar's room Maheen was likewise crushing Xandro to her as the bard did his best to struggle free from her grasp, to no avail.  It was bad enough being bested in a combat of strength, but to fail against a slight woman much smaller than himself just added insult to injury.

"He's evil!" Wakuren called out to Alewyth, reporting the results of his ability to detect the evil of a person's aura - which wasn't anything other than what she had supposed in any case.  Still, she backed away from combat long enough to cast a _magic circle against evil_ spell upon herself, which only opened her up to more attacks from the damned serval, whose claws didn't cut that deep but certainly left painful scratches on her legs.  Wakuren channeled power from his god into his shield and sent it crashing into Jazaar with a smiting attack that briefly made it seem as if the half-orc were fighting a slightly larger creature than the dark-haired human male before him.  Concentrating on his foe, Wakuren managed to see the hideous form hidden beneath the _veil_ spell: a bald, warty-skinned humanoid with bandy legs that made the cleric wonder if this Jazaar didn't have some sort of troll's blood in his ancestry or something.  Whatever he was, it wasn't the handsome desert human his illusory appearance indicated.

But then Jazaar called out a few words in some strange, guttural language none of the heroes spoke as he swung his arms at Wakuren and the half-orc felt the blow against his shield as if it had just been struck by a massive greatclub.  But then Alewyth was after him again, swinging _Sjondra_ at his back and sending him crashing into Wakuren's shield.  Then Thurloe exited the bedroom he'd awakened in and joined the two clerics in the main room.  He moved north towards the front doorway, keeping himself out of combat for a moment while he caught his breath and got his bearings.  It sounded like Xandro was struggling behind the curtain leading to Jazaar's room, while the serval scratched at Alewyth while she attacked Jazaar, who was currently engaged in combat with Wakuren.

And then three more combatants entered the main room.  One of these was Suhana, who had followed Thurloe out of her room but not until after she'd put on his _torc of the titans_ for her own use.  The other two figures came from behind a carpet-hung doorway leading to the back of the building, and these were animated skeletons, stooped in posture and with sloping foreheads making them likely the remains of a pair of orcs.  They made for Alewyth and Wakuren, scratching with their claws, for they had no weapons or armor that they might have had when still alive.  Alewyth stepped away from them and held her holy symbol of Aerik aloft, channeling positive energy through it which shattered the skeletons' bones into shards and dust.

Zander Quilson finally succumbed to blessed unconsciousness and was dropped unceremoniously to the floor, while Djamila spun in place and fought back against the elven dog that had refused to stop attacking the human woman trying to hurt his master.  Wicked claws slashed at the side of the cooshee, drawing blood.  Maheen likewise dropped Xandro Silverstrings into unconsciousness at her feet, where he fell like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Wakuren finally slew Jazaar with a side-swipe of his shield, whose edge caught the cleric's foe in the throat.  At about the same time, Thurloe brought his bastard sword's blade crashing into Maheen as she stepped out of Jazaar's room, and the blade's anti-illusion abilities carved right through the woman's _veil_ spell, revealing Maheen's true form: she was no slight desert woman but rather an 8-foot-tall crone with a stooped posture - a dune hag.  She snarled in pain and irritation at her true form being revealed.  But then Suhana rushed up and attacked Thurloe from the other side, using his magical torc to increase the power of her strikes and the damage they did.  Seeing the jig was up, she released the illusion covering her, revealing herself to be no more a human woman than her other sisters were - this was a coven of three dune hags, and Jazaar wasn't their brother but the hagspawn son of Maheen.

The cooshee kept up its attacks against Djamila, even managing to trip her and  knock her prone, but its valiant efforts were eventually fruitless, for the dune hag coven leader managed to get back up to her feet and rip out the poor elven dog's throat with her wicked claws.  Fortunately, while this slew the cooshee outright, all it really did was force it back into its statuette form, from which it could be resummoned to life another day.  But now, looking down and seeing Zander Quilson lying still bleeding on the floor, she stormed out of her bedroom to aid her sisters.

Thurloe, by this time, had taken quite a bit of damage from the two hags he'd been fighting and decided he no longer wanted to be in the middle of a dune hag sandwich, so he broke off from combat and rushed to the south end of the room to get a moment's respite (and hopefully find enough time to guzzle down a healing potion).  Wakuren, well aware that Djamila had carried Zander into her room and worried that she had now reappeared without him, rushed into her bedroom while she moved over to harry Thurloe (who wasn't getting the breather he had hoped for, as he belatedly realized his belt with the potions on it were still back on the floor in Suhana's room).  There the half-orc found Zander bleeding on the floor and administered a _cure serious wounds_ spell on the wounded elf, sealing up the worst of his cuts.  Zander stirred and sat up and that was good enough for Wakuren, who rushed back out into the main room, shield raised before him.

Alewyth had made a similar realization about Xandro and had entered Jazaar's room, taking an attack from Maheen to do so.  She ignored her own wounds - she was, after all, still standing, unlike Xandro - and cast a _cure serious wounds_ spell on the unconscious bard.  Then she had no further time to focus upon him, for Maheen had followed her into the hagspawn's bedroom and was attacking her with teeth and claws.  On the one hand it was always better to see what you were actually up against, Alewyth thought to herself, but she greatly preferred the illusions of the beautiful human women they had been greeted with upon first entering this coven-space.  By the gods, these hags were ugly!

Alewyth was surprised to see the serval hadn't forgotten about her, either, as it followed her into the bedroom and slashed out at her with its claws.  She took a long-overdue moment away from combat with Maheen to deal with this troublesome threat, and after a single bash from _Sjondra_ crushed in the desert cat's skull she no longer had it to worry about.

Thurloe was holding his own against Djamila when Zander exited the room.  He cast a _scorching ray_ spell at the dune hag but missed, his gout of fire striking instead the hardened wall of sunbaked mud of the building's structure.  But Wakuren was there, attacking Djamila from behind with his shield while her focus was upon Thurloe.  While Maheen continued her attacks upon Alewyth, Suhana broke ranks to go chase down Zander, for she wanted no truck with an arcane spellcaster in their midst, flinging attack spells around willy-nilly.

And then Maheen felt an attack from an unexpected direction: Alewyth's spell of healing had revived Xandro and he had grabbed up his _frost short sword_ and stabbed it up at her kidney from a near-prone position on the floor; she hadn't even been aware of the bard's return to consciousness.

Djamila was the first of the dune hags to fall, slain by a blow to the head from the edge of Wakuren's shield.  Thurloe, bleeding from a dozen gashes by this time, had used his magical anklet to _dimension door_ out of range of the coven leader's wicked claws and when she had spun about looking for her erstwhile prey the half-orc had let her have it.  She fell lifelessly to the stone floor.  Zander cast a _haste_ spell on the group of heroes, figuring the extra speed it granted would hopefully give the heroes the edge they needed against these powerful hags, for it was taking their all to have gotten this far, dropping the hagspawn and one of the trio of dune hags.  Most of the heroes were just about on their last legs themselves.

Maheen continued her attacks upon Alewyth while Suhana concentrated on Wakuren, the vile half-breed who had taken out their leader.  But Maheen had more than the dwarven priestess to worry about and it was Xandro who finally slew her with his magic sword.  At the same moment he saw her drop to the floor he spun to gather up the rest of the items she had taken from him while he'd been sleeping, attempting to awaken what they had thought was a brother to the three human sisters who lived here.

Alewyth rushed to Wakuren's side and added her hammer to his shield as they both pressed the attack against the sole remaining hag, Suhana.  Zander cast a _magic missile_ spell directly at the dune hag and was surprised to see it fizzle out when it reached her; she must have some sort of inherent spell resistance, he figured.  Thurloe opted to stay out of this combat and limped back over to Suhana's bedroom where his pile of belongings had been stripped from him, eager to fetch one of his healing potions before anything else - although regaining his _torc of the titans_ was a top priority once he felt he wasn't about to fall over at any moment.

The current wearer of the torc, Suhana, slashed at Wakuren with her claws, but the half-orc managed to deflect the attack with his shield.  Then Xandro entered the battle against her, all of his gear back in place; he stabbed at the remaining dune hag with his _frost short sword_ and she recognized the magic weapon as dangerous enough for her to give it special heed; unfortunately, that meant dropping her guard against Wakuren slightly and the cleric of Cal took full advantage of her distraction, cutting her down as he'd slain Djamila and the hagspawn Jazaar.

And with that, combat was concluded and the heroes all took a moment to catch their breath.

After Thurloe and Zander recovered the items that had been taken from them, the five gave the whole dwelling a good looking over.  There was a bit of treasure in the bedrooms - including a magical gauntlet with the holy symbol of Cal carved on the back, no doubt taken from someone of Cal's faith who had had the misfortune of crossing paths with the dune hag coven earlier, and which Wakuren swore to put to good use in the further service of his deity - but the back third of the building was horrific.  They got a preview of the hags' intentions for them, for hanging in the larder on a nasty metal hook was the upper half of a slain desert orc, missing one arm and everything below the waist; apparently he was their current source of meat and the heroes would have merely added to their future stores.

"Speaking of which, where's that orc from the dream?" asked Xandro.  "He's got to be around here somewhere."

"Yeah, and how exactly did we end up in his dream instead of Jazaar's?" Zander asked.  "How did they even know to fake him being asleep?"

"Hag stone," answered Thurloe, whose magical studies had included details about other creatures who used magic for their own purposes.  "That ruby Djamila wore around her neck?  It let the others see and hear whatever she did.  So when we showed up, explaining why we were here..."

"And giving them a heads-up that we were going to all fall asleep right there in their house in front of them!" gasped Alewyth as the realization sunk in.

"Yeah," agreed Thurloe.  "Too good a deal to pass up.  But c'mon - we've searched the house, let's go see what's in those two domes outside."

The first dome was a hollow structure covering a sloping natural ramp leading down into darkness.  There was the sound of running water coming from below, so Zander activated his _scout's headband_ and gave himself darkvision.  He could see two piles of vegetation on a ledge just before an underground stream, each with a pair of small boulders nearby, but not seeing anything worth taking he decided not to explore the area - best to leave it for the morning, when they'd all had a chance to heal up.

The other dome had no opening on its side, so Xandro stripped off his extraneous gear and went running at it, scrambling to the top where sure enough there was a hole in the center of the roof.  Peering down inside, he saw the prone form of a desert orc raider.  It was too dark for him to make out much in the way of details, but the bard was fairly certain he'd discovered the source of the dream of the giant caterpillar.  But he too would wait until the next day; the group decided to spend the night in the hags' dwelling (after dragging their bodies far enough away from the building that the inevitable desert scavengers wouldn't bother the heroes overnight), bringing their animals inside and blocking the entrance with their overturned wagon.  (Thurloe's _anklet of translocation_ came in handy for getting back inside after moving it into position from the outside.)

The next morning, they used Wakuren's _rope of climbing_ to climb down to fetch the orcish dreamer, pulling him up and out of the dome and carrying him into the hags' dwelling.  Then, with the cooshee once again performing guard duty, they securely bound the orc and performed the ritual to enter his dream.  They once again found themselves in a desert wasteland with a massive caterpillar, but this time their dreamstones worked as normal to weaken the giant beast and it fell quickly to their weapons and spells.  The orc was surprised at the aid he'd been given in slaying the hungry larva, but the dream dissolved around him before he could express any gratitude.

All six woke up at about the same time, the orc struggling briefly to escape his bindings but giving up when it was apparent he wasn't going to get anywhere - and there were five armed people sitting in a ring around him.  Wakuren pulled the orc to a sitting position and the bound captive spoke a few words in his own language.

"Sorry, I don't speak any of the Orcish tongue," Wakuren replied in Common; having been dropped off anonymously at the Temple of Cal as a baby by his human mother, he had never had the opportunity to learn his unknown father's language.  "Do you speak Common?"

"Some," replied the orc.

"Well good," interjected Thurloe, squatting down before the bound orc.  "So, we're not a big fan of orc raiders - ran into about a dozen of them a few days ago and slew them after they attacked us.  But we don't have any particular beef against you" - and here he looked over to Wakuren, who nodded that he had detected the taint of evil in the orc's aura - "so we're going to give you a chance at walking out of here alive."  The orc looked straight at Thurloe, obviously eager to hear more.

"We're gonna untie you," Thurloe continued, indicating it was okay for Alewyth to start to do so.  "We're not gonna give you any weapons - no point in taking any chances, I'm sure you'll understand - but we will give you a waterskin and let you fill it up so you'll have a chance of making it back to your people alive."  Alewyth removed the last of his bindings and everyone backed off as he stood up, rubbing his wrists.  Xandro tossed him an empty waterskin, one of the things they'd found in the hags' dwelling the day before.  Then, surrounded by five wary foes with weapons drawn and ready for immediate use, the orc was allowed to walk outside to the first of the two domes.

"Off you go, then," Thurloe prompted, emphasizing it with the point of his bastard sword.  The orc started warily down the sloping stone ramp.  Alewyth and Wakuren watched his progress with their darkvision.  As the orc approached the underground stream, the two piles of rotting vegetation rose up and took vaguely humanoid forms, as the four small "boulders" rose up into the air, tails unfurling behind them.  Then the shambling mounds attacked the unarmed orc while the hovering volts stabbed out with the tips of their electrical tails.  The orc didn't last long against the half-dozen enemies.

"Well, that explains that," Thurloe observed.  "Lair guardians for the hags' source of water."

"Do we want to go take them out?" asked Alewyth, _Sjondra_ gripped in hand.

"See any treasure down there?" Thurloe asked.

"Nope," replied Alewyth and Wakuren in unison.

"Then nope," replied Thurloe, turning away from the sloping entrance to the underground stream.  "Let's get out of here and back to some sort of civilization."

"It'll be another two days of riding through the desert to get to the next town," Wakuren reminded the group at large.

"Ugh!" grumbled Thurloe.  "That's gonna suck!"

 - - -

I threw the Large monstrous scorpion encounter into the mix at the last moment, figuring the players would appreciate a "warm-up" combat to help them get readjusted to running these PCs, as we've been temporarily on hold for two months.  And that turned out to be just about right; we finished this game session after about three and a half hours - not too much sitting at one stretch for our player recovering from surgery.

The _gauntlet of Cal_ is an item I created specifically for Wakuren, who had no "traditional" weapons (on purpose): it allows the wielder (who must be a follower of Cal) to call forth three _javelins of lightning_ per day, which is fairly thematically appropriate given Cal's primary domains include Air as well as Healing.

 - - -

T-shirt worn: My "Moore-Hanes Family Reunion" T-shirt, since the three desert hags and the hagspawn son of one of them formed a family out there in the Centralia Desert.  (A thoroughly evil family, but still.)


----------



## Richards (May 21, 2022)

*ADVENTURE 29: THE WOUNDS THAT DO NOT HEAL*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 6​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 3​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 3/paladin 3​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 5/rogue 1​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 6​
Game Session Date: 14 May 2022

 - - -

It took another two days getting back out of the Centralia Desert, heading in a northeasterly direction to get them back on the road to civilization and to the city - Devlinshire - where the moogles had said there was not one but two separate dreamers trapped in their dreams.  Horse got a bit of a break during those two days, for his reins were tied to the rear of the wagon and he ambled along without Thurloe's weight on his back, as the swordsman had decided to wrangle with some of the spellbooks he'd appropriated during his adventuring career and see if he could make sense of a few of the spells annotated within.  He made enough progress during those two days that when the group finally left the desert and made it back to actual roads, with another two days of travel ahead of them to get to the city, he opted to continue with his studies in the back of the wagon and by the time Devlinshire appeared in the distance he'd mastered four new spells.

Devlinshire proved to be a fairly large city, comparable in size to Baron's Haven and also ruled by a noble of the same bloodline - not unexpectedly, for the Devlin family was the single-most powerful family in all of Armaturia, with *King Eovard Devlin* the current ruler of the whole continent.  Fortunately, Devlinshire did not have any prohibitions against spellcasting as did Baron's Haven and they had several potion shops where Thurloe picked up a few items: a _potion of neutralize poison_ and two vials of antitoxin.  They wandered around and found Smiths Avenue, where Alewyth paid to have the magical protection on her chain mail upgraded and Xandro sold his own chain mail, using the money received to help fund the purchase a set of magical chain mail quite similar to Alewyth's.

"I thought you were saving up for those magical boots," Xandro pointed out to the dwarven priestess.

"I am."

"Didn't you even put a down-payment on them with those gnomes?"

"I did."

"You're not going to be able to buy those boots if you spend your money on armor upgrades," pointed out the bard.

"I'm aware."

"I don't see how you're even going to get in contact with those gnomes once you do gather up the rest of the money," Thurloe added.  "You ask me, that down-payment you gave them was money you'll never see again."

"I didn't ask you," pointed out Alewyth, but the swordsman's point was something that had been gnawing at her nonetheless, despite the gnomes' insistence that they'd find her when she was ready to make the purchase.  Either they were lying and she'd never see that money again or they were telling the truth and were somehow spying on her - neither possibility was particularly pleasant to consider.

While they'd been making their purchases, the heroes had also been chatting with the shopkeepers and armorers, asking if there were any rumors in the city about anyone being unable to be awakened from a long sleep.  Several of the townsfolk had steered them toward the Temple of Telgrane, where there was a paladin, *Drakkar Pyropus*, who was said to have been sleeping now for weeks on end.  And worse yet, none of the clerics' spells had been able to do anything to awaken the young man - local rumor was it was some type of a curse, but _remove curse_ spells had been as ineffective as anything else the spellcasters had tried.  "Reckon a _wish_ spell might do it, but I never heard of nobody capable of casting so powerful a spell - not exceptin' in legends of the old days, in any case," added a grizzled hammersmith.

Since all of the rumors they were able to pick up led to the Temple of Telgrane - nobody had any ideas about a second sleeper in the city unable to be awakened - the heroes got directions and headed there at once.  The temple was rather distinctive in that just outside its gate, in place of a fountain, a column of permanent flame rose up a dozen or more feet - an appropriate gesture to a temple devoted to the God of Fire and Knowledge.

The clerics were curious as to what these travelers thought they could do where their most powerful spellcasters had failed, but Alewyth assured them they'd had many successes in the previous months at waking those trapped in their dreams.  After giving Wakuren more than a few suspicious stares (half-orcs were not often seen wearing the armor of Cal, the God of Air and Healing), followed by assurances that he was not at all like the desert orc raiders that plagued the lands to the south, the group was allowed entry into the temple and ushered to a back room, where Drakkar lay sleeping on a simple cot.  They passed several clerics and paladins in the halls, quite a few of them sporting horrendous-looking burn scars on their exposed skin.  "Do not be alarmed," their cleric guide assured them.  "The paladins of our faith learn to set their bodies ablaze with Telgrane's holy fire.  The burns they receive during such occurrences are considered holy and remain in place when the damage is otherwise healed.  Here in the sanctity of our own temple the paladins do not cover their scars, but when outside dealing with others they often wear masks and gloves, the better to shield their burns from the eyes of those outside our faith, who often view such scars as...troubling."

"Yeah, no kidding," agreed Telgane.

The cleric led the group into the room where Drakkar lay sleeping on a cot.  Despite having earned the rank of a paladin, Drakkar wore a simple sleep shift and was covered with a single blanket.  His skin was unblemished, apparently not having reached the level of training where he could self-immolate.  "This room is normally reserved for those resting after an illness or injury," the temple's head cleric informed the group, having joined the visitors after news of their presence had been brought to his attention.  "We placed him here, where we can keep an eye on him, after our attempts to wake him bore no fruit.  What, exactly, do you propose to do?"

Alewyth explained their procedures and the clerics agreed to move Drakkar to a larger room reserved for meditation, where the dreamwalkers would have enough room to sit around him in a circle.  The dwarven priestess placed the dreamstone-headband upon the young paladin's brow, then took her position in the circle around him.  The five dreamwalkers sat at the five points of a star, each sitting cross-legged in the lotus position, and each wearing a dreamstone upon his or her own forehead, held in place by a leather headband crafted by Thurloe's Uncle Marten.  A few clerics - and Zander's _jade cooshee_, once activated - stood at the back of the room to observe and ensure there were no interruptions.  Then the heroes slowed their breathing, stilled their minds, and drifted off to sleep.

Mogo was there to guide them to the appropriate door in the seemingly-endless Hall of Dreams.  "Good luck, kupo!" he told them as they stepped inside Drakkar's dreamscape.

At first, the dream looked very much like the last dream they'd entered, that of the orc raider captured by the trio of dune hags down in the desert: an endless wasteland of parched earth, with a few scattered plants scratching out a determined existence.  The heroes looked all about them but they were the only five figures at all in the dreamscape.

Then they heard the cries above them.  Looking up, they saw two reptilian bodies engaged in combat.  One was a bat-winged serpent, the other a bronze dragon.  The serpent shrieked in anger and brought its sinuous tail up and across the dragon's back, dislodging a rider the heroes hadn't noticed until he was hurtling to the ground.  However, just as he was about to make a splat-stain on the hard-packed desert earth he suddenly stopped a few inches above the ground, hovered for a moment, and then went flying back up to the back of the dragon he'd just been riding.  The serpent reversed its combat shriek as the two aerial foes unflapped their wings and backed up from each other - the entire dream reversing until the combatants were in their original positions when the heroes first entered the dreamscape.  Then time started moving forward again, with the dragon and the serpent flying toward each other, the flying snake's tail swatting the rider, who toppled from his draconic perch and plummeted _nearly_ to the ground again, before the dream started rewinding once more.

"What's going on?" demanded Alewyth.  "This makes no sense!"

"That's gotta be Drakkar," reasoned Zander.  "He's got the holy symbol of Telgrane painted on his shield."  The dragon-rider was in full armor, however, with a helmet that covered his entire face so they were unable to confirm it was the same individual they'd left sleeping in a cot in the meditation room in the Temple of Telgrane.

"Let's see if we can weaken the beast," Xandro suggested, raising the dreamstone he held in his hand both back on the Mortal World and here in the Dreamlands.  Concentrating on the bat-winged serpent, he imagined its strength siphoning off and dissipating into the winds.  Beside him, Alewyth, Wakuren and Zander did likewise, while Thurloe took a different approach and tried doing nearly the opposite, using his lucid dreaming training to try to increase the paladin's physical dexterity, hopefully to the point he could dodge the incoming serpentine tail on its next pass.

"This isn't working!" complained Thurloe as the paladin was once again swatted from the back of the bronze dragon and sent plummeting to his death - a finish he was spared at the last second when time stopped once again and rewound for him.  None of the dreamwalkers was affected by the sudden reversal of the dream's time-stream; they were immune to the effect as the two aerial figures backed up in the sky once again and resumed their starting positions.

"I'm going to try something," Wakuren announced.  He well knew his own _shield of Cal_ had a _feather fall_ effect that worked for whoever held it; this being a dream, where anything could happen, he used his lucid dreaming training to cause the shield to fly out of his hands and go streaking up to the paladin, while at the same time the paladin's shield came dropping down to the half-orc.  "Let's see if swapping shields has any effect," he told the others.  By this time the serpent's tail had struck the armored figure once again and he fell from his draconic mount - and sure enough, the paladin's fall was slowed by the _feather fall_ effect, such that it was taking him much longer to fall all the way down to the ground.

Alewyth cast a _calm emotions_ spell up at the three figures, hoping to get them to cease their aerial combat.  It had as much effect as their dreamstones, which is to say none at all.

"I'm going to try something, too," replied Thurloe, rising up into the air.  This was just a dream, he figured - no reason he couldn't fly through the air as gracefully as any dragon or winged serpent.  He pulled the bastard sword from its sheath on his back as he approached the bat-winged snake.  Xandro and Zander followed suit, although they opted not to fly up to the giant serpent but rather over to where the paladin was engaged in his slow-motion plummet to the ground.  And although the paladin's face was mostly covered by his helmet, as Zander approached he was able to better judge the figure's overall size and build, as well as the shape of his eyes through the visor.  "This is an elf!" he called to the others.

Thurloe backed away from the bat-snake as it bit into the dragon's neck, at the same time the dragon's front claws ripped furrows across the serpent's scales - each having gained extra "combat time" by the slowed effect of the elven paladin's fall.  Rather than attack the dragon's foe, Thurloe held out his dreamstone again like a holy symbol and concentrated on it, focusing on identifying the dreamer of this strange back-and-forth dream.  Surprisingly, his focus directed him not to the paladin slow-falling below him but to the dragon he'd been riding before being knocked from his perch.

"That's not Drakkar!" Thurloe called to the others.  "Drakkar's dreaming he's the dragon!"

Alewyth kept her feet firmly planted on the ground, not wanting to fly through the air even in just a dream, and cast a _spiritual weapon_ spell that sent a hammer-shaped field of force flying straight up to smash the winged serpent in the head.  Its reaction was immediate: with eyes glowing a hellish red, a pair of beams exploded out of his eyes and struck Alewyth, dissipating her dream-body to motes of light that were quickly extinguished.  Just like that, Alewyth had been slain (and woke with a gasp back in the Temple of Telgrane).

"Are you all right?" asked one of the Telgranian clerics overseeing the silent ritual.

"We're...experiencing a bit more difficulty than expected," admitted Alewyth.  This was further evidenced when Thurloe gasped aloud and came to a sudden wakefulness by her side, the angry serpent's eyebeams having exploded his dream-self to nonexistence as well.  The other three woke themselves voluntarily, realizing they weren't going to be able to defeat the winged serpent on their own.

The cleric looked down at the sleeping figure of Drakkar Pyropus, who hadn't stirred at all during the ritual.  "He seems unaffected," he observed.

"Yes, I'm afraid we were unsuccessful," admitted Alewyth with a sigh.  "This has happened twice before.  We'll suggest to you what we suggested to those looking after the other two: leave the dreamstone secured at Drakkar's forehead" - the dwarf removed the leather headband they used on the dream victims and replaced it with a cloth scarf she tied in place around his head.  "It will bond with him over time.  We'll return later to try again, after the dreamstone has had to attune itself to him a bit.  Perhaps then we'll be able to awaken him."  The head cleric was of two minds of the heroes' failure to wake their young paladin: on the one hand, disappointment that their charge still remained trapped in his dream; on the other (admittedly selfish) hand, a slight relief that these strangers hadn't succeeded where they themselves had failed, which would have cast a pall upon the church's abilities to look after their own.

"There's supposed to be another dream victim somewhere in the city," remarked Xandro as the group gathered up their things and said their farewells (and made their apologies) to the temple clerics.  "You wouldn't know anything about who that might be, or where they could be found, do you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," replied the head cleric.  "One of our retired paladins, *Sir Marcus Brightflame*, has a grand-niece, *Amelia Candlecraft*, who fell asleep a week or so ago and, just like Drakkar, could not be awakened.  We have tried the same approaches on her as we did on Drakkar, with no success.  Perhaps you will be more successful there than you have been here."  He gave them directions on how to find the Brightflame estate and the group departed the temple.

The estate was easy enough to find; Alewyth knocked upon the front door of the single-story building and waited for an answer.  It took some time in coming, but eventually they could hear shuffling footsteps and the tap of a cane approaching the front door from the other side.  Then the door opened and Sir Marcus Brightflame stood before them.

The man was of average height, with a slightly stooped posture as he leaned upon a metal cane.  Both hands were covered in black gloves that extended up into the sleeves of his shirt, and his face was entirely covered by a wooden mask with mere slits for eyes.  "May I help you?" he asked, then took an involuntary step back at the sight of Wakuren, raising the cane behind him as if ready to strike the half-orc if needed.

Wakuren had half-expected such a reaction; not many were used to the idea of a non-aggressive person with the blood of an orc running through his veins.  He held his hands up to demonstrate he was not armed and gave the old man his best smile.  "Good afternoon.  My name is Wakuren and I am not a threat," he said by way of introduction.  "I am a cleric/paladin of Cal."

"Would you be terribly offended if I detected you for evil?" asked Sir Marcus.

"By all means," agreed Wakuren, keeping his hands raised where the elderly paladin could keep them in his sight.

"Well, I'll be," remarked Sir Marcus after staring at the half-orc before him for a moment or two.  "Forgive me, but old habits die hard and old prejudices are even harder to dispel.  Now then, how may I help you?"

"Actually," replied Alewyth, "we've come to see if we could assist you.  I understand you have a grand-niece who's fallen asleep and has resisted all attempts to awaken?"

At that, Sir Marcus's shoulders drooped as he sighed in sadness.  "I'm afraid you're too late," he informed them.  "Amelia died three days ago.  But please, come in - we need not stand here in the doorway."  He stepped aside as the five dreamwalkers entered his foyer, a wide room with the ornamental displays of two sets of plate mail, the holy symbol of Telgrane emblazoned on each chest-piece and shield.  Then, closing the front door, he shuffled off to a hallway to the east, leading them into a comfortable sitting room.

"I'm sorry to hear of the loss of your grand-niece," commiserated Alewyth.  "May I ask how she died?"

"She was here visiting," Sir Marcus replied.  "Not quite a week ago I was unable to wake her up, but she was quite alive.  I brought in clerics from the temple and they did their best to revive her, but nothing they tried had any effect.  I checked on her periodically and she was fine...and then, three days ago, I went to check on her in the morning and she was cold, no pulse.  She must have died at some point during the night, poor girl."

The dreamwalkers looked worried at each other.  "This is a new wrinkle," Xandro observed.  "We've never seen one die before."

"Is this part of the Nightmare King's plan, do you think?" asked Zander.

"I'm sorry - what?" asked an obviously perplexed Sir Marcus.  Alewyth informed him of the dream plague that was seemingly sweeping the continent, and of their successes - and failures - in waking those caught up in a dream coma.  "We met up with the Nightmare King in the Dreamlands," the dwarven priestess declared.  "We're still not sure why he's trapping people in their dreams, but so far everyone stuck in their dreams has been in a kind of magical stasis - no need for food or water, no wasting away due to starvation - so we assume the Nightmare King has a reason for keeping them alive."

"Could be this is the next step of the plan," observed Thurloe.  "Maybe he's been stocking them up like firewood and now he's starting to use them."

"To what purpose, though?" asked Alewyth.

"Guys," interrupted Zander.  "We're all missing something here: the moogles said there were still two dreamers here in Devlinshire.  But if Amelia's been dead for three days..."

Alewyth looked over at Sir Marcus.  "Forgive the question, sir, but...are you absolutely sure your grand-niece is dead?"

"Quite sure."

"Can we see the body?" demanded Thurloe, gruff as always.

"If you wish," replied Sir Marcus, pointing to the mantle.  "She's right there, in the urn."

The heroes looked up at the urn on the top of the mantlepiece.  "Well, that's rather conclusive," agreed Xandro.

"I performed the cremation myself, in accordance with our traditions," replied the paladin of Telgrane, God of Fire.

"Maybe there's somebody else stuck in their dreams," suggested Wakuren.  "Somebody new, I mean.  The moogles can't always tell specifically who's having the dream, just where they're located on the Mortal World...if someone else started their dream coma around the same time as Amelia died...."

"We should check out the dream," Alewyth decided.  She turned to Sir Marcus.  "Would it be too much of a bother if we took a quick nap here in your sitting room?" she asked.  "I know it sounds like an odd request, but we'd like to talk with our...advisers in the dreamlands."  She decided it was best not to describe the moogles to the elderly paladin; their story was already difficult for most people to believe.

"By all means," replied Sir Marcus, leaning on his cane to rise to his feet.  "I'll go start a pot of tea, so it'll be ready for when you awaken."

"Don't you have someone to help you with that?" Alewyth asked.

"Pshaw!" scoffed Sir Marcus.  "I used to have servants here, but I released them from service when I retired.  I don't need anyone doing everything for me, now that I'm home here all day.  You go have your chat, and afterwards I have a proposal I'd like to make to you."  And with that, the elderly paladin ambled off down the hall to the kitchen.

One by one, the five dreamwalkers stilled themselves to sleep and were met by their individual moogle guides.  They all converged in the Hall of Dreams once again, where they were met by Mogo.  "Are you ready to see the second dream already, kupo?" he asked, opening the door to the dream in question.  It was a forest dream this time, Zander noted with approval - he was getting tired of dreams taking place in barren wastelands.

Stepping into the dream-forest, the group found a frightened young woman hurrying along a path, her way lit only by the light of the moon above.  There were crashes behind her as something made its way noisily through the trees and bushes.  Xandro instinctively went over to the woman to assure her that they'd help but she gave no indication she was even aware of his presence; belatedly, he realized his ability to interact with the woman's dream-self was limited in that they weren't by her side on the Mortal World, nor was she wearing a dreamstone upon her brow.

The woman continued down the forest path, nervously glancing behind her.  The dreamwalkers waited around long enough for whatever it was that was pursuing her to make an appearance, and despite the fact it had sounded like some monstrous beast crashing through the trees, when it finally stepped out between the trees and onto the forest path in her wake it was nothing more than a black-clad man, a serrated dagger in his hand.  He, like her, gave no indication he could see any of the intruders into this dreamscape but silently pursued his target.

"This is definitely weird," observed Wakuren.  "Is it possible for a dream to continue when the dreamer's been slain?"

"Let's ask Mogo," suggested Alewyth, opening the door from the dream and stepping back outside into the endless corridor, where their primary moogle dream instructor waited for them.

"That was quick, kupo!" the moogle observed, his tiny wings flapping to keep him at head level to the much taller dreamwalkers.

Alewyth asked him if it was possible for a dream to continue without a living dreamer.  "It's hard to say, kupo!" he replied.  "We only get to see the dreams themselves, not the dreamers, kupo!"

"But this particular dream - it still has a dreamer attached to it?  And that dreamer is still in Devlinshire?" pressed Xandro.

"Let's go find out, kupo!"  Mogo led them through the endless hallways and into a room with a map of the continent of Armaturia displayed on a table.  Concentrating on the dream he'd just witnessed, the moogle caused a pinpoint of light to glow on the map.  Then, causing the map to focus in on that area, the glow sat in the center of the city of Devlinshire, roughly in the part of the city where the Brightflame estate stood.  "This is definitely weird," Wakuren sighed.

They woke back up in Sir Marcus's sitting room as the elderly paladin was making his way back into the room with a teapot and five cups balanced on a tray in one hand, his other hand gripping the cane he leaned upon.  Alewyth sprang up from her comfortable chair and took the tray from him, setting it down upon a low table.  She started pouring the tea into the cups and passing them around, while asking, "Can you describe Amelia for us?"

The paladin gave a description of his grand-niece that perfectly matched the woman in the dream.  "It seems that's definitely her dream, then," Wakuren mused aloud.  "Again, I'm not sure how that can be."

"You said you had some sort of proposal for us?" Alewyth asked, wanting to move the conversation on from Amelia, for fear of causing the elderly paladin further pain.  She belatedly realized he had only brought five cups, then realized he likely hadn't planned on drinking with them, for he'd have to remove his mask to do so - it had no opening at the mouth to allow him to drink.

"Indeed I do.  I would like you to slay the ghost who is haunting this house."

That prompted quite a few follow-up questions.  Sir Marcus explained the ghost had first appeared three nights ago - "So the night Amelia died?" Thurloe asked, and was answered in the affirmative -  suddenly appearing in his kitchen and attacking him.  "He wore Telgranian armor," Sir Marcus admitted, "of the type worn by the paladins of my order.  I can only assume it was the ghost of *Dardolio*, an infamous paladin of Telgrane who fell from grace, allowing a love of earthly pleasures - good food, women, and money, not necessarily in that order - corrupt him.  He became a blackguard and was slain by a force of paladins sent out to stop him.  I was not part of that group and have never even met the man while he was alive; I can only assume he has a vendetta against Telgranian paladins and decided to start with me, thinking me well past my prime."

"And you fought him off?" prompted Zander.

"I did, yes.  Paladins of my order cannot turn undead, so I was forced to fight him off with my cane, using it like a mace.  I was fortunate enough to drive him away that first night, and I had a cleric of Telgrane with me the following night in case he showed up again.  He did, and the cleric turned him, but that didn't stop the ghost from returning again the next evening, when I was forced to fight him off again.  I'm guessing his having been a member of the Telgranian order - and his apparent hatred of us - has somehow prevented him from being put to rest by a member of my order.  With any luck, you two, being clerics of Cal and Aerik, will be able to deal with Dardolio on a more permanent basis.  I have a thousand pieces of gold if you are able to destroy the ghost permanently; killing me is no great loss, for I have lived a full life and am well past my prime, but I fear if he slays me he'll then move on to others of my order.  Will you help me?"

The heroes looked at each other and nodded, and Alewyth gave him their unified assent.  "Very good," said Sir Marcus, gathering up their cups and collecting them onto the tray.  "The ghost appears when the sun comes down, so you have several hours to prepare if you need to gather any supplies or anything.  Otherwise, you are welcome to make use of the servants' quarters on the far side of the entry hall if you'd like to stay."

Wakuren had a practical question to ask: "Does the ghost appear in the same place each time?"

"No, just wherever I happen to be.  The first night it was in the kitchen, the next night in the hallway, and last evening it was in my study.  He manifests and immediately tries to kill me."  Then Sir Marcus got up and started making his way back to the kitchen to wash the cups and teapot, shooing away Alewyth when she offered to help.

It was a lengthy wait until sundown, but none of the heroes needed anything in the way of additional supplies; Alewyth and Wakuren would both try to turn the ghost using their respective holy symbols, while the others used their weapons or spells if it came to that; after all, Sir Marcus had managed to fight off the ghost twice now with his metal cane so they were fairly certain the five of them could handle the undead spirit.  But just as the sun was about to go down, they had Sir Marcus gather in the sitting room with them so the ghost would show up right before the assembled group, at which point they'd all pounce.  Alewyth prepared for the upcoming battle by casting a _magic circle against evil_ spell upon herself and a _bless_ spell on the group.  Wakuren cast a _protection from evil_ spell upon himself and a _virtue_ spell upon Zander Quilson, to give him that extra bit of staying power in the fight to come.  Thurloe cast a _mage armor_ spell upon himself, then used his wand to follow it up with a _shield_ spell.  He then passed the wand over to Zander so the elf could do likewise, and Zander cast a _haste_ spell on the group after he had done so.  Finally, Xandro cast a _heroism_ spell upon Zander, then got out his lute and started playing his song of inspirational courage; when the ghost appeared they'd all be ready for it.

And then they waited.

Surprisingly, the ghost did not immediately appear, even though a quick peek through the sitting room window indicated the sun had fully set and the world outside was cloaked in full darkness.  The interior of the Brightflame estate was lit by _everburning torches_, but after a few minutes of waiting a different type of illumination came into the sitting room through its sole entrance, an open doorway leading into the hall.  The light got brighter as a humanoid figure, bathed in illumination like bright moonlight, stepped through the doorway.  It was a man clad in the armor of a Telgranian paladin, with the God of Fire's holy symbol emblazoned upon his armor and shield.  He held a longsword in his right hand but made no move to use it; in fact, his gaze seemed to slide off the assembled heroes as he did a quick scan around the room and then turned to go back the way he had come.

"He didn't attack," observed Wakuren, frowning.

"Neither did any of you!" replied Sir Marcus, clearly agitated.  "You're to put the evil wretch down!"

"Perhaps he sensed our protective spells," suggested Alewyth.

"Let's see what he's up to," said Thurloe, following the ghostly figure into the hallway leading to the back of the estate.  "He may be circling around so he can attack us through the wall or something."  But the ghost did no such thing; rather, he walked to the next room, the formal dining room, and skirted the table as if it were an impediment to his incorporeal body.  Then, upon reaching the door to the kitchen, he actually opened the door instead of simply passing through it.  There was an open doorway exiting the kitchen back into the main hallway and after a moment the ghost stepped through it, turning to open the door to the privy and then closing it again.

"He's looking for something," Alewyth observed, having stepped forward as far as the dining room with Xandro, Zander, and Wakuren, with Sir Marcus starting to hobble their way to catch up to them.  Thurloe was still back by the sitting room, muttering to himself.  "It's almost as if he's Sir Marcus, looking for his missing grand-niece," he grumbled, then starting turning the idea around in his head.  If that were indeed the case, then who was the guy who answered the door and why would he be trying to pass himself off as the retired paladin?  But Sir Marcus, wearing a mask that hid his face and gloves that hid his hands, would be a particularly easy target to impersonate without arousing suspicion...and it would explain why Amelia was still around to be dreaming her dream of being chased by an assassin in the forest....  Thurloe caught up to Sir Marcus and tapped him with the flat of his blade, encouraging him to speed up - but really testing to see if he was under some sort of an illusion, for his bastard sword had the ability to carve through illusions with but a touch.  Nothing changed about Sir Marcus's appearance; if this wasn't in fact the elderly paladin the impostor was using a mundane disguise.

Zander's keen elven hearing had picked up Thurloe's muttered speculation and he quickly passed the idea on to Wakuren before "Sir Marcus" - if that were indeed really him - got close enough to them to overhear.  Wakuren immediately ducked into the dining room and activated his _ring of invisibility_, fading immediately from view.  Zander, for his part, activated his _scout's headband_, granting himself _true seeing_ which allowed him to see the now-invisible half-orc just fine.  Wakuren pantomimed he was going to pull the mask off of "Sir Marcus" as he passed and Zander gave him a subtle nod to show he understood the plan.

Thurloe, however, had no idea what those two were scheming and came up with a way to determine the elderly paladin's true nature on his own: by attacking him from behind when he wasn't expecting it, just to see his reaction.  He cast a _ray of exhaustion_ spell that struck the masked man in the back, sapping him of a portion of his physical strength.  "Sir Marcus" didn't know who had just attacked him, merely that he'd been hit from behind.  He spun about and saw only Thurloe standing there.  Zander, not wanting their suspicions to be out in the open just yet, tried covering for Thurloe's impetuous attack by calling out, "He's been possessed by the ghost!" and running back towards Thurloe, casting a _color spray_ spell at his friend that he knew would be largely ineffective - but which he hoped would put "Sir Marcus" back at ease.  In passing, his _true seeing_ had also confirmed to the elven sorcerer the elderly paladin hadn't been employing any illusion magic.

But since the figure holding the metal cane now had his back turned to the invisible half-orc...Wakuren popped suddenly back into view, the man's mask in his hands.  The face beneath the mask was not the least bit scarred from having been burned by holy immolation, nor was it the face of a man in his 60s or older.  This was an impostor, a 30-something man named *Conviolos* with greasy, black hair and a sneer already forming on his face.  "So that's how it is, huh?" he snarled.  Then at the top of his lungs, he yelled, "ALL FORCES: ATTACK!"  This he followed up with a _searing light_ spell cast directly at Wakuren, revealing himself not as a paladin or even blackguard but a cleric, although the half-orc had no idea which god the impostor served.  (Later, the heroes would find an unholy symbol of Gareth, God of Betrayal, hidden beneath Conviolos's shirt.)

Thurloe, basking in the glow of an "I was right!" feeling of superiority, heard the clank of metal to his left and looked over to the entry hall, where sure enough the two suits of Telgranian plate mail armor were coming to halting life, lifting their shields before them and raising their longswords.  They stepped from their places in the corner of the entryway and marched over to the side hallway, ready to attack.  Zander stepped away, allowing Thurloe to cast a _magic missile_ spell at the closest of the two suits of armor; he wasn't at all surprised he hit it, but he _was_ rather surprised to see that one hit was all it took to take the armor completely out, for it collapsed into a pile of clattering metal at his feet.  Thurloe couldn't help but notice the bones visible between the pieces of armor and realized these "animated suits of armor" were actually animated skeletons wearing suits of armor.  That made him doubt himself for a moment, wondering if one of the skeletons might have been Amelia after all.

"Fall back!" Wakuren called to Thurloe as the cleric of Cal stepped past Zander, and for once the swordsman obeyed without question, ducking back into the entrance of the sitting room, leaving an open path between Wakuren and the second armor-clad skeleton when it stepped into the hallway to pursue Thurloe.  Wakuren activated his _gauntlet of Cal_ and caused a _javelin of lightning_ to manifest into his raised right hand; the bolt was enough to take out the armored skeleton in one blow.

But now Alewyth was back around the corner after having followed the ghost as he fruitlessly searched first the guest bedroom and then the study; she brought _Sjondra_ crashing into Conviolos's back.  He spun about to face this new attacker, only to have Xandro plunge his _frost short sword_ straight through the deceiver's belly.  Conviolos spat out blood from his mouth as the bard's blade stuck out from his back; when Xandro pulled it free the cleric of Gareth fell to the floor, quite dead.

"This way, guys!" Alewyth called to the others, leading them to a closed door at the end of the hallway, a door the ghost had approached and then left without opening.  Xandro tried the door and found it to be locked; the ghost - now believed to be the spirit of the real Sir Marcus - opened the door to the courtyard at the center of the building and explored the stables, then went through to the other side and started searching the now-vacant servants' quarters.  In the meantime, Zander had removed the holy symbol from the door that had apparently kept the ghost from entering the bedroom and Xandro put his lockpicks to good use and painstakingly worked on opening the lock.  Alewyth had returned to the guest bedroom - thinking it would have been where Amelia would have stayed - and found signs of recent disturbance: a gash-mark along the wall above the bed, looking to be where a sword slashed along the wall, as well as a drop or two of dried blood on the floor just beneath the bed,  in a place easily missed by someone cleaning up the evidence of the place where Sir Marcus Brightflame had likely been slain.

Xandro finished his work and the door opened.  Zander rushed inside, looking about and seeing a canopy bed along the far wall.  He couldn't see the bed's contents for the hanging draperies were closed, but he did see a bearskin rug on the floor before the bed and a lengthy dresser and mirror along the side wall.  He cast a quick _detect magic_ spell and noted four points of abjuration magic, one each at the top of each of the four posters of the canopy bed and an aura of transmutation around the rug - which then dispelled all doubt as to its magical nature as it animated and attacked the elven sorcerer.

Zander had had his hand upon the cloth barrier hanging from the bed when the bearskin rug attacked, slashing at him with the claws of one flattened paw.  The attack jostled the elf to the side and he pulled the curtain away from the bed, revealing the unclothed form of Amelia Candlecraft lying asleep and whole on the bed.  But he had no time for the implications of her location in the bed of her slain great-uncle to sink in as he found himself in mortal combat with the animated pelt of a grizzly bear.

Zander Quilson was not the group's most adept member when it came to melee combat and everyone was well aware of that fact.  Xandro raced into the room to try to draw the bear's attention away from the frail elven sorcerer, while Wakuren summoned an air element wolf into the room to attack the rug.  The rug focused its attention on the bard, scratching at him with its fully-functional claws and wrapping its pliant form around Xandro's face, trying to smother him.  Alewyth cast a _spiritual weapon_ spell, sending a dwarven warhammer made of pure force slamming into the part of the rug not currently wrapped around Xandro.  Wakuren followed up his first summoning spell with another, this time bringing forth a celestial fire beetle.  But it was Thurloe who finished off the animated bearskin rug, slicing it nearly in half with a swipe of his bastard sword.  Xandro pulled the now-limp half off of his face and gasped in deep breaths.

"Look away!" commanded Alewyth, seeing Amelia's nakedness and quickly covering her with a blanket.  "Make yourselves useful and find me her clothes!"  A set of women's clothes were found in the bottom drawer of the dresser, apparently where Conviolos had stashed them once he had realized the full implications of a beautiful young woman helpless in a dream coma.  In fact, it was the rumor of such an occurrence that had led him to the Brightflame estate in the first place, where a little snooping about revealed the only people inside had been Sir Marcus, Amelia, and the traveling maid who had accompanied Miss Candlecraft on her journey to visit her elder relative.  Waiting until Sir Marcus had departed the house and leaving Amelia in the temporary care of her maid, Conviolos had approached the house in the guise of a healer sent by the temple of Telgrane to try a new method of awakening Amelia from her slumber.  Conviolos sent the maid off with a bag of coins to the marketplace to purchase some rare herbs - herbs rare enough he was certain she'd be gone for more than enough time to allow the cleric of Gareth to implement his evil plans.  Of course, he hadn't counted on Sir Marcus's early return home, to find the greasy-haired pervert bent over the unyielding figure of his grand-niece, his breeches down around his ankles.  They had fought, but the younger man was a much better combatant than the elderly paladin, whose days of combat prowess were sadly years behind him, and the end result was never much in doubt.  Conviolos easily overpowered Sir Marcus and slew him, then realized he had quite an opportunity here: by wearing the paladin's mask and taking on his identity, he need only deal with the unwitting maid upon her return and he'd be practically set for life, with Amelia providing him with as much pleasure as he desired.

And once dead, Sir Marcus and the maid even provided their skeletons for animation as an additional means of defense, should there ever be any problems on that front.  Of course, Conviolos had likewise not anticipated the arrival of Sir Marcus's ghost....

Once Alewyth had dressed Amelia back in her own clothes, she had the men return to the bedroom and help place her in the middle of the floor, where they repeated their dream ritual, this time with much more success.  The assassin chasing her through the forest was easily dealt with, at which time Amelia awoke from her week asleep - only to be told by a sad-faced, good-hearted dwarven woman that both her great-uncle and the maid she had traveled with were both dead.

And then the room brightened even more than the illumination provided by the _everburning torches_ hanging from sconces around the room.  The ghost of Sir Marcus Brightflame entered the room and took off his helmet, revealing a face scarred with puckered burns - flame-wounds caused by his own voluntary immolation in the service of the God of Fire many years back.  A single tear rolled down his scarred face at the sight of his grand-niece awake once more, and then he started fading from view.  "Uncle Marcus!" cried Amelia, reaching out to the fading figure from her seated position on the floor - but he was gone, passing on to the next world.  Everything the dwarven woman had said was apparently true.

Amelia covered her face with her hands and wept, unsure if the wound in her heart would ever heal.

 - - -

This was definitely a creepy one, with an enemy the players all loved to hate once they realized the extent of his depravity.  I figured that in a whole series of dream-victims, each of which was basically in a magical form of suspended animation, somewhere along the line somebody was going to take advantage of the situation.  (In fact, I'd done something similar with Jingo Pebble-Brain a few adventures back.)  And it was great seeing the realization kick in when the players all realized they'd been duped by "Sir Marcus Brightflame," who had a logical answer for everything even though most of what he'd told them were lies.  (He'd also cast an _undetectable alignment_ spell upon himself before answering the door, then faked attempting to detect evil in Wakuren's aura, something he wasn't at all capable of doing (but Sir Marcus would have been able to do).  I was especially proud of the fact I'd (temporarily at least) pulled the wool over Dan's eyes, as he's easily my most distrustful player and his PCs generally never trust anybody in-game if they can help it.  (I suspect he played with a lot of "screw the players over whenever possible" DMs early in his gaming career.)  Incidentally, the gems above the four-poster bed were a _hide from undead_ spell effect that would have prevented the ghost of Sir Marcus from being able to find his grand-niece even if he had made it into the room.

The players were a bit bummed to have to leave another dreamer (Drakkar Pyropus) unawakened, but I did point out the other two times this occurred they never even made it inside the "real" dream, as Dream Ghidorah and Dream Kong had both killed the PCs before they could even get a glimpse of the "real" dreams they were guarding.  At least this time, while Dream Warbat (using a plastic toy Warbat from the recent "Godzilla vs. Kong" movie I bought at Wal-Mart) prevented them from waking the dreamer, they were able to get far enough into his dream to actually see him, even though he was dreaming of being the bronze dragon mount of an elven paladin from Telgranian history.  So it's a form of progress, and once the dreamstones have all had plenty of time to attune to the dreamers for a matter of months the PCs are anticipating having a better run of it.

 - - -

T-shirt worn: I was tempted to wear my "DAD: Cleverly Disguised as a Responsible Adult" T-shirt as it would be very appropriate given Conviolos's impersonation of Sir Marcus Brightflame, but that would have let my my players know ahead of time something was up and somebody wasn't really who they claimed to be.  I also have several shirts with various undead on them (mostly skeletons and zombies), but I was likewise hesitant to let them know they'd be up against some sort of undead in the adventure.  So I eventually chose to wear one of my dragon shirts, the black T-shirt with a green dragon on it, to represent the bronze dragon in Drakkar Pyropus's dream.


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## Richards (Jun 21, 2022)

*ADVENTURE 30: PLATOON OF THE DEAD*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 6​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 3​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 3/paladin 3​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 5/rogue 1​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 6​
Game Session Date: 18 June 2022

 - - -

"Well, at least this time it's a short trip," pointed out Alewyth.  Having dealt with two individual dreamers inside the confines of the city of Devlinshire, they had learned the next dreamer was in a compound only about four miles out of the city.  "That beats the multiple-day journeys we've been used to."

"Yeah, but the people living there seem kind of weird," argued Thurloe.  They had asked around Devlinshire before they left the city, seeing what they could learn about the inhabitants of the walled complex they were heading to.

"Some weird couple lives out that way.  Always wearing black robes and stuff, hardly ever come into town.  They pretty much keep to themselves," reported one merchant.  Another added, "I don't think I've ever seen the man.  The woman's rather nice looking, although she's always dressed in black and insists on wearing that silly top hat."

"I think they're healers or something," pointed out another local.  "I know I've seen wounded soldiers being sent to them now and again."

"You ever seen the wounded come back out again?" prompted Thurloe.

"Now that you mention it, no."

"That says wonders about their healing abilities," Thurloe scoffed.  But it being such a short trip, they didn't have long to wait to find out for themselves.  The complex the couple lived in was surrounded by 10-foot-tall walls, made of solid, sturdy-looking stone.  A single gate of thick, wooden doors stood at the southern side, apparently the only way in.  But in the middle of the complex stood a two-story tower, also made of stone and apparently designed without any windows - not any that could be seen from outside the walls, in any case.  On the ground just in front of the gate was a circle inscribed in the stone, ringed with magical runes.  Wakuren brought the mules to a halt and stepped down from the wagon, walking into the magical circle without hesitation.  Then, seeing no knocker or other way of announcing their presence, he pounded loudly on the wooden gate with his gauntleted fist.

"You hear that?" he asked as Thurloe came up to stand beside him.  The others dismounted from their own horses (or dire goat in the case of Alewyth) but gave the circle a wide berth, in case there was any funny business going on.

"Yeah.  Sounds like guys marching," the fighter-wizard replied.  Indeed, the sound of tramping boots, all in step, could be heard from the other side of the wall, as well as the occasional clink of armor.  It sounded like there was a contingent of at least a dozen soldiers inside the compound.

"Hey!  open up!" Thurloe called to the soldiers marching inside the compound.  They gave no answer, continuing their maneuvers - without the benefit of anyone calling out the cadence, Thurloe noted.  But then, after about a minute had passed, a feminine voice from the air above the gate called out, "Who's there?"

Wakuren took the lead from Thurloe, knowing how impatient and insensitive the young human could be.  "My name is Wakuren," he called up to the empty air at the top of the wall, where the voice had seemingly come from.  "I have four others with me, and we came to see if perhaps there was someone inside your complex who had fallen asleep and has been unable to be awakened."

"What--?" gasped the woman's voice. "How could you possibly know that?"

"Then there is someone asleep and trapped in their dreams?  We've been traveling the continent, pulling people from the dreams they have been trapped in.  The specifics of the situation are still unknown, but we have been trained in the ritual that helps them escape and have had many more successes than failures.  Would you let us in, so we can help?"

"Hang on," replied the woman's voice.  "I'll be right there."

"Prep spells," suggested Thurloe.

"Why?" demanded Xandro.  "She sounded reasonable enough."

"Yeah, and those yuan-ti looked like normal farmers, and those desert babes looked perfectly human until we woke up and found out they were hags and we were on the menu.  Prep spells."  He pulled out his _wand of shield_ and cast the spell on himself; since devoting himself to arcane spellcasting he'd done without his heavy armor, which hampered the movements he needed to perform to successfully cast spells.  Wakuren, perhaps seeing the logic in Thurloe's reasoning, cast a _divine favor_ spell upon himself and followed it up with a _bull's strength_ that increased his physical prowess - a useful attribute if it came to a fight.  Alewyth cast a _bless_ spell on the assembled group and then a _shield of faith_ and a _magic circle against evil_ spell on herself.  Zander equipped himself with a _mage armor_ spell and a _bear's endurance_ spell, then cast _haste_ on the group.

"You really think that's necessary?" Alewyth asked the elf sorcerer.  "It's liable to run out before we even get a chance to use it."

"Then I can always cast another," argued Zander.

But then there was no time for further discussion, for the woman's voice called out, "Halt!" and the sounds of marching immediately ceased.  "You two: open the gate!" she called and there were the sounds of a heavy bar being dragged out of place.  Shortly thereafter the two doors swung inwards, revealing the presence of a young human woman dressed in a black skirt that came down to her booted heels, a black blouse, and a black top hat, all of which accentuated her black hair rather nicely and set off her pale features.  As the two soldiers stood awaiting further orders, she turned to the group of soldiers as a whole and called out, "Slay each of these people if you ever see them inside this complex without being accompanied by me!"  She then smiled at her visitors and bid them to enter.  “No point in not being cautious," she smirked.  Once the five had set foot inside the complex she had the two soldiers close the doors and put the heavy bar back in place, then resume their places in the formation.  The soldiers stood in rows of four and none of the heroes missed out on the sickly-sweet smell of decay in the air, as if something had died here recently.  Getting a good look at the undead flesh of the armed and armored soldiers, it wasn't too difficult to pinpoint the sources of the scent of death surrounding the area.

"I'm *Mellistra*," said the woman in the top hat.  "*Dellios* is inside.  This way."  Without another word she pivoted on her heels and headed to the keep, whose door faced the front gate.  While her back was turned, Wakuren focused his senses and confirmed that she, and the soldiers all around them, were radiating distinct auras of evil.  She opened the door, ushered the five visitors inside, and then returned her attention to the unmoving soldiers standing in their ranks.  "Resume!" she called out, and at once they began marching once again, moving in a counterclockwise direction around the keep.

Mellistra led the five dreamwalkers past the open doorway of a side room that contained six empty metal gurneys, each large enough to hold a body, and went up a set of stairs to the upper level.  The keep's interior was lit by a series of _everburning torches_ set in sconces along the walls.  Alewyth's frown said all she needed to express her feelings about the quality of people they were here to help but she held her tongue.

Thurloe, however, was never one not to speak his mind.  "So, you got a bunch of zombies marching around out there, huh?"

"Not zombies, no - they're dread warriors," Mellistra corrected him.  "They move as fast as they did in life and retain all of their previous combat training.  They're on special order from *Duke Virgil Devlin* himself, so I don't want to hear any lecturing about the 'evils' of raising the dead for personal use.  You got any problems with what we're doing, you take it up with him, not with us.  Everything we're doing here is strictly above-board."  At the top of the stairs she turned to her left and opened a door.  "Dellios is in here," she said.  Zander, intrigued by the woman's top hat and wondering if it might be magical in nature, activated his _scout's headband_, granting himself _true seeing_.  To his disappointment, the top hat was apparently nothing more than an odd fashion accessory; it had no inherent magical properties.

The bedroom beyond was of a decent size, with a bed for two upon which was lying a man in his early thirties, wearing his nightclothes.  An unholy symbol of Akari, Lord of Death and Undeath, hung on a thin chain around his neck; a larger version was attached to the wall over the bed.  There was a door to a bathroom at the far side of the room and a pair of sliding doors meeting at a corner, apparently leading to a closet.  Standing motionlessly in front of the closet doors was what looked to be a human skeleton holding a longsword; this was actually a baneguard, one of two providing internal security on this level of the keep.  (The other was in the next room over, an arcane library.)

Alewyth explained the process by which they would rescue Dellios from his dream.  As she tied the headband in place around the sleeping cleric's temple, Mellistra said, "I want to come with you."

"Inside his dream?" asked Xandro.  "I'm afraid that's not possible - not without the proper training, in any case."

"Hmmph!" sighed the woman in the top hat.  "Then I'll be right here, watching."

"That will not be necessary," Zander suggested.  "Perhaps you'd like to wait outside?"

"I'll wait right here, making sure everything's on the up-and-up," Mellistra countered.  She indicated the baneguard standing in the corner.  "We both will."

"Very well, then - let's make it three," replied the elf sorcerer, pulling the _jade cooshee_ figurine from his robes and bringing the elven dog to life with the utterance of a command word.  "You stand on guard duty too," he commanded the cooshee, who wagged his tail in understanding.  Then, after dragging the bed into the middle of the room so the five dreamwalkers could sit in a circle around him, they each slowed their breathing and entered the dreamlands.  As usual, each was met by his or her personal moogle guide, who led them through the ever-changing world of dreams into the Dream Corridor, where Mogo was waiting for them.  "Ready, kupo?" he asked, opening a specific door in the near-endless halls of similar-looking doors, each one a distinct dream of a specific dreamer.  "Good luck, kupo!" he called as the five dreamwalkers entered the cleric's dream.

Dellios was there, fully armored and sitting at a table, a chessboard before him.  Sitting across from him was a skeletal being wearing robes, idly holding a scythe in His skeletal left hand while His right moved a black chess piece.  "*CHECK*," Akari intoned, causing Dellios to frown down at the board.  A drop of nervous sweat dripped down the side of his face.

Stepping forward and looking at the chessboard, the dreamwalkers could see things were not looking good for Dellios; his forces were hopelessly outnumbered and Akari had amassed a slew of the cleric's pawns and a few more powerful pieces, which sat at the side of the table.  Dellios had, by this point in the game, managed to take a mere two pawns from Akari's army.

"I'm not real comfortable with this," Alewyth admitted.  "Do we really want to wake up a guy who's been creating undead monstrosities?"

"If the Nightmare King has him trapped here in his dream, it's no doubt in our best interests to release him - that's got to work against our adversary," pointed out Wakuren.

"So let's get on with it - let's go kill him," suggested Thurloe.

"Slaying a god will not be easy, even in a dream," warned Wakuren.  "And I'd imagine it's even more difficult slaying the God of Death."

"Who says I was talking about killing the Bone Guy?" demanded Thurloe, pulling his bastard sword from its scabbard on his back.  "Let's kill Dellios and see what happens."

"That'll probably just loop us back to the beginning of the dream," argued Alewyth.  "Let's see what we can do about helping him win his chess match."  Touching her hand to the dreamstone she wore in a leather headband about her own brow, she concentrated on altering the dream as they'd been taught by Mogo and one of the black bishops disappeared from the board - the very bishop that had been putting the white king in check.

"Fine," grumbled Thurloe.  "We'll do it your way."  He concentrated as well and one of the black knights disappeared from the board.  The other three followed suit, removing Akari's queen and the other bishop and knight, leaving the God of Death with only his king, rooks, and a half-dozen pawns, most of which were currently blocking the rooks from any useful moves.  With the new board layout, Dellios had a much better chance of winning the game and he proved that was true by doing so a dozen moves later.  Without a word, Akari stood up from his chair, made a silent bow in the direction of His servant, and disappeared from view.  After he left, the walls in the room started fading from view as well.  "He's waking up," Alewyth pointed out.  "Let's go!"

The six figures all woke at about the same time, the heroes getting up from their lotus positions and stretching, while Dellios sat upright in bed and looked around him in confusion.  "You're awake!" cried Mellistra happily.

"What's going on?" demanded Dellios.  "Who are these people?"

"They woke you up," Mellistra explained.  "You've been asleep for like two and a half weeks - almost three!"

"What?  How--?" sputtered the cleric.  Then realization hit him and his eyes nearly bugged out in shock.  "The Duke's project!  We'll be weeks behind!"

"I took care of it," Mellistra assured her husband.

"Well, it seems as if our job here is done," Thurloe said, eager to get out of the keep surrounded by 16 dread warriors programmed to kill them.  "If you'd like to escort us back outside your walls, we'll let you get back to it."

"They know about the warriors!" Dellios gasped.

"Yeah, but it's fine," soothed Mellistra.  "Our project is legitimate and well within the law; even these goody-goody types can't very well complain."

Wakuren held up his hands in a placating gesture.  "We're just glad we were able to awaken you, and in so doing damage that much more of the overall plans of the Nightmare King," he assured Dellios.  While the half-orc had been training as a cleric-paladin of Cal and personally found undead to be anathema, he couldn't very well break the laws of the Duke's lands; if the Duke allowed the creation of an undead army there was little Wakuren could do about it.

"We'll not be causing any trouble with the Duke," added Alewyth, whose views on the undead mirrored Wakuren's.

"See?" said Mellistra.  "You're awake, they're leaving, and we can get back to business as usual."  His wife's words seemed to finally penetrate and Dellios visibly relaxed.

And then a white-haired servant girl entered the room.  "That's all very well and good," she said, looking over the heroes and allowing her gaze to focus upon Thurloe.  "But I would remind you both that you're already behind schedule, the Duke is getting impatient, and that one" - here she pointed at Thurloe - "is a suitable candidate for the conversion process."

Mellistra gave Thurloe an appraising lookover and was nodding her head in appreciation, when Dellios said something that surprised the heroes.  "And just who the Hell are you?"  He had apparently never seen this young lady before.

But Thurloe wasn't overly concerned with white-haired serving girls being hired on while Dellios had been sleeping; he was more interested in being an unwilling volunteer for this conversion process.  Thinking this whole thing was a setup, he spun about and fired a _ray of enfeeblement_ spell directly at Dellios, who was just now climbing out of bed in his nightshirt.  "Hey!" he cried as the strength left his body, causing him to drop back down upon the mattress of his bed.

Seeing they were apparently fighting their way out of the keep - and idly wondering what their plans were once they had to cross the compound and pull off the heavy bar on the double doors of the gate, all while fighting off 16 dread warriors; hopefully Thurloe had some thoughts on the matter when they got that far - Xandro pulled his _frost short sword_ from its scabbard and stabbed it deep into Dellios's side.  It seemed strange to the bard to rescue a person from their dream and then turn around and try to kill them, but so be it;  he wasn't the one that decided to reward the five dreamwalkers for rescuing Dellios by turning Thurloe into a dread warrior.

Zander Quilson raced across the room before everyone else realized there was a combat ensuing, preferring to get to the relative safety at the side of his cooshee.  As he did so, he recast the _haste_ spell upon himself and his friends (and his dog), since the original spell had already run its course.  But the white-haired servant was already well aware of the combat and dropped her human form in order to attack the elven sorcerer as he fled past her, stinging him in the side with the tip of her tail.  In doing so, she revealed herself in her true form: a humanoid reptile with white scales, a draconic face, and dragon's wings sprouting from her back.  Wakuren was not at all surprised to denote the white abishai as yet another source of evil inside this keep.  Quick as a wink (and aided by the _haste_ spell), he swung his shield at her, catching her with its edge.

The cooshee responded to the start of combat by biting and clawing at Mellistra, who was standing beside the dog.  He easily pulled her down to the floor, pinning her in place with a paw on her arm.  She responded by casting a _vampiric touch_ spell, imbuing her right hand with sparkling black energy, and trying to touch the dog to drain away some of his life energy.  But the cooshee was well-versed in the ways of spells - part of his design allowed him to snatch away spell energy from those his master had targeted for "fetch" and he dodged her reach, knocking her back down with a side-swipe of his paw.  She fell back down upon the floor, cursing in a quite unladylike manner, the _vampiric touch_ spell still active in her hand.

Alewyth swung _Sjondra_ into the white abishai's side, while Dellios called out for the baneguard to attack everyone in the room save him and Mellistra.  Then, realizing his unpreparedness for combat while wearing only his nightshirt, he cast a _shield of faith_ spell upon himself, one hand still holding his side where Xandro had just stabbed him.

But then Thurloe swung his bastard sword into the white abishai and nearly cut her in two.  She flopped to the floor and he grunted in pulling his blade free from her torso.  And then Wakuren called out in his loudest voice, "TRUCE!  LET THERE BE NO MORE FIGHTING!"

"You started it!" yelled Dellios, pointing a finger at Thurloe.  "You attacked me with a spell, and then you" - here he spun and stabbed a pointing finger at Xandro - "you stabbed me!  But fine, hold off your attacks - for the moment," he said to the baneguard, who had taken a step towards Alewyth with its sword raised.  The undead skeleton lowered its weapon, awaiting further orders.

"Let's all take a calming breath," Wakuren suggested.  "It was this white dragon-thing that was advocating for an attack upon Thurloe.  With her out of the way, I think we can all agree that we'll go our separate ways without any further bloodshed.  And I can heal that wound for you."

"Don't bother - I can do it myself," grumbled Dellios, casting a _cure moderate wounds_ spell upon the gash in his side, healing it completely.  Then, turning to his wife, he asked, "And just who exactly was she - and what was she doing here?"

"Well, _you_ were asleep, and _you're_ the only one who can cast _create undead!_" Mellistra countered.  "I had to make...additional arrangements."  Dellios just shrugged angrily at her, his expression asking in a non-verbal way, "And...?"  Mellistra hesitated, then admitted, "I used some _planar ally_ scrolls, did a little summoning, and brought forth some allies who could animate the dead bodies for us."  She spun on her husband.  "What else was I supposed to do?  _You_ were asleep for who-knows-how-long-it-was-going-to-be, and the Duke was breathing down my neck, so _I_ was the one left holding the bag...."

"Wait a minute," interrupted Xandro.  "You said, 'allies' - there are more of them?  Here in the keep?"  He looked nervously about him.

"Well yeah, but only two, and they're not the _exact_ same...one's black and one's green."

"If they're demons or devils, they're probably gonna have telepathy," Thurloe warned the others.  "They're likely on their way up here right now."

As indeed they were.  Upon having received the telepathic call from their white abishai counterpart, the green and black abishais had started heading up the sloped ramp from the underground level - the level containing the summoning circle.  Seeing as how the white abishai had already revealed its true self to the mortals, these two saw no sense in wearing their human guises.

"Okay, truce?" asked Thurloe.  He looked down at the body of the creature he had slain and noticed it was already regenerating the damage he had dealt it.  Apparently killing the abishais wasn't even a permanent solution.

"_Temporary_ truce," amended Mellistra.  "Once we deal with the abishais, you guys get out and leave us alone!"  Dellios just shook his head at how out of hand the situation had become while he had been trapped in his dreams.  He walked over to the closet and started pulling on his armor.

Wakuren positioned himself at the top of the stairs, planning on being an obstacle the abishais would need to overcome to get to the others.  Thurloe stood immediately behind him, bastard sword at the ready.  Zander positioned himself in the library (where he soon found the other baneguard, which creeped him out) with Alewyth, whose _magic circle against evil_ spell encompassed the four of them.  Xandro was still in the bedroom but he pulled out his lute and began playing his song of courageous inspiration, while Thurloe passed his _wand of shield_ over to Zander so the elf could use it and pass it back.  The cooshee, in the meantime, had dragged the regenerating white abishai's corpse over to the bathroom and into the tub, where his job was to keep chewing on her and give her something to have to regenerate anew.  After all, they didn't want her rising back to life to attack them all from behind while they were focused on safeguarding the stairs below them.

But the telepathic abishai were well aware of the heroes' plans.  As a result, neither stepped around the corner to the bottom of the stairs where they would be able to be seen, but remained in hiding in the general living area.  The black abishai focused her powers on Wakuren, hoping to _charm_ him into attacking his companions, but he was safely ensconced in Alewyth's _magic circle against evil_ and the spell protected his mind from such magical attacks.  The green abishai then attempted to telepathically _command_ Alewyth to come downstairs and talk under a flag of truce, but that had no effect either.  Once it became apparent the heroes upstairs were fully shielded against their mental attacks, the green abishai changed tactics.  "Very well then," she said.  "We'll try this another way."  She went over to the front door of the keep, opened it wide, and stepped outside.  "Slay everyone inside this keep who doesn't have wings!" she commanded, and the ranks of dread warriors altered course and headed inside the keep.

"What?  No!  Don't!  I countermand those orders!" called down Dellios, still buckling on his armor with his wife's assistance.  But from the sounds of the tromping footsteps below, the dread warriors fully accepted the green abishai as outranking Dellios - after all, many of them had been animated by her directly while the cleric of Akari slept on.  "This is all your fault, you know!" accused Dellios to Mellistra.

"How was I to know this was going to happen?" countered the necromancer.  "They were just supposed to animate the dead guys and turn them into dread warriors - you know, the job _you_ were supposed to be doing instead of taking a three-week nap!"

Despite the plans of making the top of the stairs the single point of defense, Thurloe changed tactics when he heard the dread warriors spilling into the living area downstairs and hoped to be able to prevent the rest from getting in.  Thus, he pushed past Wakuren and raced down the stairs, bastard sword out and ready for action.  The first of the undead were just now entering the keep's interior but the black abishai was right there around the corner from the stairs, so she became the fighter-wizard's first target.  Thurloe grunted as he swung his blade with all his might, catching the draconic devil in the side of the torso.  But it wasn't a killing blow - far from it - and she retaliated in kind, ripping with her front talons, snapping with her dragon-teeth, and sending the tip of her scorpionlike tail stabbing at the mortal foe before her.  The tail strike failed to hit, so Thurloe luckily didn't get the opportunity to experience firsthand how it felt to have acidic venom pumped directly into his bloodstream - but there would be plenty of other chances in the very near future, he well knew.

Zander, confused on why Thurloe was bringing the fight to the opposing forces when he thought the whole point was to be fighting them at a bottleneck, readied a _magic missile_ spell in case anyone made it up the stairwell.  But then the dread warriors made it as far as Thurloe and attacked, each carrying a battleaxe and well trained in its use.  Wakuren, saddened at the sudden loss of their strategy, raced down the stairs to join battle rather than leave Thurloe there alone to fight against overwhelming odds.  Raising his holy symbol of Cal before him, he channeled positive energy through the focus and blasted the undead in a wide arc, affecting the first six to have entered the keep.  In an attempt to flee from the cleric-paladin of Cal, four of them tried fitting into the side room where the six metal gurneys were stored, while the other two turned around and tried getting back out through the front door, being prevented from doing that by the wave of other dread warriors trying to get in.

From outside the keep, the green abishai gathered up the required mystical energy and summoned forth a quintet of lemures, four of them appearing inside the keep and the fifth stuck outside with her due to lack of available elbow room - the keep's interior was getting crowded!  It became even more so when Alewyth summoned a celestial bison at the bottom of the stairs.  It gored the first undead figure before it, one of the six Wakuren had just sent fleeing.  Thurloe slew the black abishai with another well-placed blow of his bastard sword, but just as with its white cohort upstairs, death was nothing more than an inconvenient - and temporary - time out for it, as its wounds started immediately to seal up.  From the top of the stairs, Xandro's inspirational tune got louder as the bard advanced to see if he could see the battle raging below.

Zander finally went downstairs, spotting a bit of green outside from his view just below the celestial bison's legs, so he cast a _magic missile_ at what he knew to be the green-scaled abishai.  He then whipped out the dagger from his belt and stabbed at a dread warrior as it hurried past him, trying to get inside the room with the gurneys as it fled Wakuren's holy power.

But now other dread warriors were rushing into the keep.  Wakuren ran to the front door and raised his holy symbol, sending forth a second blast of positive energy and turning another group of the undead into panicked flight.  However, he was now within striking distance of the green abishai and she went after him with a vengeance.  Behind him, a few of the lemures tried attacking him and Thurloe but found a mysterious, unseen force (Alewyth's _magic circle against evil_ spell) preventing the summoned creatures from being able to even touch their intended targets, for the dwarf had run down the stairs after having summoned her celestial bison from the Upper Planes to aid the heroes in fighting off the hordes of evil.  The bison charged forward, trampling over the bodies of the dread warriors in its way, until it burst out the front door and spun about once outside, goring another undead warrior with its horns.  The green abishai just barely managed to fly up out of range as the shaggy beast did his best to slay the evil creatures before him.

Thurloe made quick work of the nearest lemure, its body exploding in a puff of rancid gas as it was slain.  Xandro stepped cautiously down the stairs, still playing his song of inspirational courage on the _Dardolian lute_.  Zander spread his fingers before him and cast a _burning hands_ spell that caught nearly half a dozen dread warriors in its flames.  And while some of the dread warriors had made it back outside and were fleeing, more of those who had been stuck outside trying to get in had a suitable victim in their sights, namely the celestial bison who had been so diligently trying to pare down their ranks.  The green abishai attacked the noble beast from above, her tail stabbing down at its head and injecting her vicious, strength-draining venom into his system.

Wakuren slew another of the lemures with his shield, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the smell the thing's death caused.  Having gone on the offensive against them, he was no longer protected by the _magic circle against evil_ spell, but that was a tradeoff the half-orc was willing to make, for the lemures were definitely on the "kill list" - the dread warriors being kind of a gray area, since they had been commissioned by Duke Virgil Devlin.  Still, if they only killed the dread warriors in self-defense, the Duke could hardly take offense, right?

Alewyth ran up to stand beside Wakuren and channeled her own positive energy through her holy symbol of Aerik, causing more of the dread warriors to flee.  Outside, the celestial bison had managed to stab the flying green abishai with one of his horns, causing the draconic devil to cry out in pain.  Thurloe killed another lemure and stepped up to the doorway, knowing the worst of their enemies were still outside.  (In the back of his mind he was aware the black abishai's body was regenerating, but he figured he had cut her up enough it was going to be some time before she was back in action.)

Xandro decided he'd done enough with his lute and set it aside, drawing forth his longsword and attacking the nearest dread warrior with it.  Zander cast another _burning hands_ spell, the fan of flames burning three of the undead soldiers to a crisp.  But outside, the celestial bison was finally overcome by the small horde of undead soldiers attacking it with their battleaxes and it disappeared, not with an explosion of rancid gas like the slain lemures but the pleasant scent of roses.

Wakuren stepped outside, ignoring the fleeing dread warriors which had been turned away by the waves of positive energy being sent in their direction, and channeled more of his god's power through his shield, using it to smite the green abishai, apparently the leader of the three devils Mellistra had brought forth with her desperate spells.  The devil tried _commanding_ the half-orc into serving her, but despite the fact he was now well outside Alewyth's protective _magic circle against evil_ spell, Wakuren was having none of it.  There were now only two lemures left of the five the green abishai had summoned to her aid, and the one outside with her attempted to hit Wakuren for the sake of its mistress, but the cleric of Cal avoided its clumsy blow.  And then Thurloe's bastard sword cut the right wing from the green devil, causing her to fall to the ground where she quickly fell victim to another blow from his sword, this one cutting through scales, muscle, and bones and piercing her heart.  Xandro and Wakuren made short work of the two remaining lemures.

Alewyth stepped outside herself and cast her last turn undead of the day toward the group still forming up to try to get inside the keep, causing panic and confusion in their ranks as some tried to flee and those further back tried pressing on.  By then, Dellios and Mellistra came barreling down the stairs, finally ready for battle themselves now that the cleric had his armor on.  "Don't kill the dread warriors!" he called out to the others, worried about how behind schedule this was going to put him with the Duke.

"Settle down, lad," calmed Alewyth.  "Most of these have just been turned - there's no real harm come to them."  She knew Zander had killed a couple of the ones inside but wasn't exactly sure of their number.  With the abishais all slain, Dellios was able to assert control of the dread warriors, getting them lined back up in formation outside.

"Well, this is just lovely," Dellios complained.  "We're down to just thirteen.  I don't know how we're going to be able to make up the difference."  Mellistra looked appraisingly back over to Thurloe, but he cut her off with a pointed finger and a warning: "Don't even think about it, you crazy broad!"

"This one's regenerating!" Xandro called from inside the keep, stabbing his longsword into the black abishai to give her more to have to fix up in her battered body.  "Anybody know how to get them to stay dead?"

"You brought them forth," Dellios pointed out to his wife.

"I know, _I know!_" replied Mellistra.  Then she listed off what would prevent them from regenerating: "Holy water.  _Holy_ weapons.  _Blessed_ weapons.  I think that's about it."

Dellios turned to the five heroes.  "I don't suppose any of you has any holy water?" he asked.

"Not on me," Wakuren answered.  "I could create some, but I don't have the spell ready at hand - it would take me until tomorrow to cast it."

"Same here," added Alewyth.

"Well, you're not staying here until tomorrow," announced Mellistra.  "I want you five out of here, pronto."

"Works for me, you damned loony," Thurloe snarled.  "C'mon guys, we'll let them figure it out."

"But what about those undead monstrosities?" asked Zander, who had by this time collected his _jade cooshee_ and dragged the white abishai's body outside with the other two.  The dread warriors continued attacking the regenerating corpses as a stop-gap measure, long enough for someone to head back into the city and purchase enough vials of holy water to completely douse the three abishais, ensuring they stayed dead.

"Not our problem," answered Thurloe.

"Perhaps this situation will convince the Duke putting together a platoon of undead soldiers is not ideal," suggested Wakuren.  "I'd like to take them all out, but I also don't want the Duke's forces hunting us down for, like it or not, breaking the law."

"What about the three you killed already?" demanded Mellistra.  "You owe us for them, at least.  I don't see why we can't have just the one of you to help make up the difference!"

"I hear any more talk about me joining their ranks and you're gonna have to start doing some regenerating yourself, lady!" warned Thurloe.

"Enough," interjected Dellios, starting to wish he'd never been awakened from his dream.  "Mellistra, go into town and pick up some holy water.  I'll stay here and oversee the situation until your return.  As for the five of you, thank you for your assistance, but I think it would be best of you were on your way."

"Suits me fine," snarled Thurloe, walking over to the front gate.  "Hey, Wakuren, give me a hand with this, would you?"  Together, they lifted the bar away from the gate and swung the heavy wooden doors open.

"Why do _I_ have to go get the holy water?" Mellistra groused to her husband.

"Because _you_ were the one who brought those devils into this situation!" answered Dellios.

"Only because _you_ were sleeping when you were supposed to be animating the bodies!"

"Well, it's not like I _chose_ to get stuck in my nightmare, now, was it?  And you don't know how bad that nightmare was!  Sheer torment, let me tell you!"

Thurloe couldn't let that one pass.  "He was playing chess!" he called over to Mellistra.

"Oh, chess, was it?  So while _you_ were off playing a _game, I_ was stuck dealing with the Duke wondering why we were so far behind schedule!"

Thurloe and Wakuren pulled the doors to the gate shut behind them.  They had no way to put the bar back in place, but that wasn't their immediate concern.  Instead, they remounted their riding mounts and Wakuren climbed into the wagon, grabbing up the reins of their two mules.

"Was that absolutely necessary?" chided Alewyth.

"Necessary?  No," admitted Thurloe.  "But fun?  Yes.  I hope they both enjoy their marital bliss."  As they continued on down the road, Dellios and Mellistra's argument eventually faded from earshot behind them.

 - - -

This adventure took us about three and a half hours to run through, after which time I handed out the players' upgrade checklists, because everyone advanced to 7th level.  Harry decided to add a second level of rogue to Xandro, Logan gave Wakuren a 4th level of paladin, and Dan started Thurloe off with his first level in the spellsword prestige class; Alewyth and Zander are continuing on as our only single-class PCs.  But each of their signature items got a power-up as well - the moogles have set up a communication station in the Dreamlands, and now besides their own individual moogle guides, there will be a moogle assigned to the communication station at all times, through which messages can be passed through the dreamstones in the PCs' signature items to the moogle on duty.  In this way, the PCs can ask questions of the moogles, pass on messages to the Queen of Dreams, and receive answers without having to go to all the trouble of one of them falling asleep and visiting the Dreamlands "in person," as it were.

I also added something extra to Logan's upgrade checklist.  For no apparent reason, Wakuren just gained an inherent +2 bonus to his Strength, Dexterity, and Constitution scores.  His initial thought was this might have been some sort of atunement bonus from wielding both the _shield of Cal_ and the _gauntlet of Cal_.  We'll have to wait to see if he's right.

 - - -

T-shirt worn: My white "Walking Dead" T-shirt, given the nature of the dread warriors.


----------



## Richards (Jul 12, 2022)

*ADVENTURE 31: NIGHT AFTER NIGHT*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 7​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 3/spellsword 1​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 3/paladin 4​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 5/rogue 2​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 7​
Game Session Date: 9 July 2022

 - - -

The heroes were about an hour down the road from Devlinshire when they heard the furious pounding of hoofbeats behind them.  Thurloe and Xandro wheeled their horses around to face the approaching riders; they were a pair of guardsmen wearing the uniforms of the Devlinshire city patrol.  Alewyth looked back behind her with a look of worry on her face, wondering if they'd have to fight these men and not particularly looking forward to the battle if they were, for the men were the official representatives of the Dukedom, with all the power of Duke Virgil Devlin himself behind them.  Alewyth certainly did not want to find herself on the wrong side of the law, even if she didn't particularly agree with the law in this case.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," said Wakuren pleasantly as he brought Mica and Perseverance to a halt at the side of the road, allowing the two guardsmen to pass.  And pass they did, but immediately thereafter they spun their mounts about so they were facing the five dreamwalkers and their various mounts.

"Good afternoon, folks," replied one of the guardsman, holding a hand before his eyes as if trying to block out the sun.  "Man, it sure is bright out today, huh?"  Zander's brows furrowed in puzzlement, for the day was somewhat overcast.

"We've come with a warning," said the other guardsman, likewise holding up his hand as if shielding his eyes from the nonexistent glare of the sun, currently hidden behind a cloud.  "Apparently there's a band of ruffians about - we've been sent to look for them and to warn those we meet to be on the lookout."

"Ruffians?" echoed Alewyth.

"That's right, ma'am.  Two humans, an elf, a dwarven woman, and a half-orc broke into a compound just outside the city and destroyed a couple of undead critters animated at the orders of the Duke himself.  Now, you and I might not see anything particularly wrong about killing undead abominations, but the Duke's mighty upset and has branded this band of five as terrorists.  You five keep an eye out, now, you hear?  They should be fairly easy to spot - the dwarf woman's apparently riding around on a large goat of some sort."  Squinting at Alewyth, astride her dire goat mount Pyrite, the guardsman added, "That's a mighty fine horse you've got there, ma'am - what I can make out of it in this blasted sunlight!"

"I-- thank you," replied Alewyth.

"The Duke's special hobgoblin forces are being sent out to scour the surrounding area as well as us, so you might consider taking some of the back roads if at all possible," suggested the other guardsman.  "Them hobbers, they don't always differentiate between the races all too well - why, they might not even recognize the five of you as all being human, like we do."

"So you folks take care," the other guard added, spinning his horse back around.  The other followed suit and then the two of them spurred their mounts on and were off, racing down the road at a full gallop.

"What was that all about?" demanded Alewyth.

"They're off doing their job, only it's a job they don't particularly want to do - bring us in for killing those three dread warriors," Thurloe explained.  "This was them giving us a heads up about the Duke's hobgoblin forces.  I'd say we'd do best to hurry on our way and take the first side road we come to!"  He brought Horse to a full gallop and the others followed suit.

About another twenty minutes down the road they met up with another rider, this one approaching them from ahead.  It was an elderly woman dressed in a noblewoman's riding gear, sitting rigidly upright upon a pure white horse that trotted leisurely down the road.  She sent her mount off to one side of the road so the two parties could pass each other and the five dreamwalkers slowed down their own mounts so as not to crash into her.  As she got to within a dozen feet of Thurloe - who was at the head of his group's procession - she asked him, "Excuse me, can you tell me how far away Devlinshire might be?  I have some business there, but I've never been this far west before."

"It's probably a couple thousand miles behind you," Thurloe replied with a grin.  "But, if you keep on heading the way you're heading, it's only about an hour and a half away."

"Very droll," replied the nobleman with the barest hint of a smile.  She produced a gold coin from a purse at her belt and passed it to the young swordsman.  "But thank you."  Thurloe took the proffered coin and gave it a quick lookover: it had a man with a pointed beard on one side and a lit torch on the other; not the common currency used in these parts, but likely as spendable as any other golden coin.  He absently dropped it into his own coin purse and kicked Horse back into motion.  However, he let the mount amble forward instead of continue the full-out run they'd started before, Thurloe not wanting to appear to be in a hurry while the noblewoman might take notice.

"What's up?" asked Zander, bringing Eddy up to the spellsword.

"That lady's heading to Devlinshire," Thurloe explained.  "She meets up with any hobgoblin guardsmen, she'll be able to give them a good description of the lot of us - and there's not likely to be too many groups riding around with our particular makeup."  He looked over at Wakuren as he said the latter, for in truth there weren't too many half-orc cleric/paladins of Cal on the entire continent, Wakuren likely being the only one.  "Reckon we'd best find some side roads, pronto."

"Looks like there's one up ahead," Xandro offered, squinting into the distance.  "And it looks like it heads north, which is kind of where we want to go anyway."  Their next dream victim, according to Mogo, was to be found in the small village of Snail Valley, northeast of their present location.  The side road followed the course of a small brook for a bit, and although it likely added a half hour to their travel time, they found themselves in Snail Valley a good four hours later.  At least that was what the wooden sign on the side of the road declared: "Welcome to Snail Valley" it read, with a picture of several rather happy-looking snails painted along the edges for good measure.

Finding the specific location of the dream victim was easy, as Snail Valley was a small community and everyone knew little six-year-old *Rosie Picklemeyer* had fallen asleep about two weeks ago and hadn't been able to be awakened since.  The valley's druid, *Abitha Crow-Talker*, had done what she could but determined there was something magical going on beyond her abilities and had suggested waiting to see if Rosie came out of it in her own, for she didn't seem to be suffering any deleterious effects from the prolonged sleep.  Riding up to the Picklemeyer cottage, Alewyth knocked on the door and was met by Rosie's parents, *Jarko and Petunia Picklemeyer*, who gave the strangers puzzled looks at first but welcomed them into their home with open arms once the dwarven priestess explained they had come to waken Rosie from her sleep.

Xandro brought Rosie out into the common room, wrapped in a blanket, while the others took their places in a circle around her and Wakuren explained the process.  Zander activated his _jade cooshee_ and set him up on watch detail; they'd had one too many surprises in the past and didn't want anything happening to their sleeping bodies while they were in the Dreamlands freeing Rosie.  In fact, Thurloe kept silently indicating to Wakuren he wanted the half-orc to check out the Picklemeyers' auras to see if they were evil, and Wakuren gave Thurloe a frown and a silent head shake.  However, Thurloe wasn't sure if that meant "No, they aren't evil" or "No, I'm not going to check because that would be embarrassing and just what's wrong with you, anyway?"  Knowing Wakuren, it was probably that last one.

Once everything was set up - Rosie's brow now adorned with a too-large leather headband holding a dreamstone to her temple to aid in the dreamwaking procedure - each of the five calmed their breathing and fell asleep.  Jarko and Petunia looked at each other, hopeful but puzzled how this was going to help their daughter, but neither wanted to make any noise to wake these strangers up if they could possibly wake Rosie.

One by one, the dreamwalkers found themselves in the Dreamlands, being met by their individual dream guides.  "Hey, kupo!" cried Calliope upon seeing Alewyth appear in a dream about baking in a kitchen.  "Are we ready for the next dreamer already, kupo?" asked Mogchamp to Xandro as he began dreaming about throwing rocks into a creek.  Similarly, Moki met up with Zander and Kupek greeted Wakuren, then they all met up together at the Hall of Doors, a visualization of endless hallways filled with individual dreams.  There hovered Mog, their dream moogle trainer, and beside him Doc, Thurloe's moogle dream guide.  But of Thurloe there was no sight.

"Where's the other one, kupo?" Mogo demanded.

"No idea, kupo," replied Doc.  "I felt the others going off to meet up with their dreamwalkers, so I hung around waiting for Thurloe, but he never showed, kupo."

"Maybe he's having trouble falling asleep," suggested Wakuren.

"Maybe that isn't really him - maybe he's been replaced by a doppelganger," suggested Zander Quilson, coming up with a ridiculous suggestion just to scare the others but then realizing it was a distinct - if unlikely - possibility.

"We should wait for him," decided Alewyth, but as the minutes went on and the spellsword didn't show, she began to get worried.  "Do you think something happened to him back on the Material Plane?" she asked.

"The cooshee's there to look after him," Zander pointed out.  "If the Picklemeyers decided to attack him or something, he'd wake the rest of us up."

"We'd better go check on him," suggested Xandro.  "But as long as we're here, we might as well take a peek at Rosie's dream and see what it is we'll be getting into."

"In you go then, kupo!" replied Mogo as he opened the door to Rosie's dream and the four dreamwalkers stepped inside.

"Hello," Rosie greeted them as they walked into her dream.  She was wearing her mother's dress clothes, including a bonnet that kept falling down over her eyes that she kept pushing back out of the way.  "*Mr. Bear* and I were just about to start our tea party.  Would you care to join us?"

"She makes really good tea," put in Mr. Bear, a stuffed animal Rosie's mother had made for her when she was born but which here, in her dreams, was as alive as any of the newcomers to her dream.

"Perhaps just a quick sip," suggested Alewyth, "but then we should see about getting you back home.  Your parents are very--"  But then she was cut off by a horrible wailing coming from the next room.

"Oh no!" cried Rosie.  "One of the snail babies is awake!"  She rushed into the next room, Mr. Bear dutifully following at her heels.  The room held seven cribs, inside each of which was a snail the size of a pillow, with the face of a human baby.  One of them was crying something fierce, causing the others to start to stir out of their own slumber.  "We need to rock him back to sleep before he wakes up the others!"

Rosie bent over the crib and picked up the crying snail baby, starting to rock it back and forth, but the damage was already done - all seven of the creatures were now wide awake and bawling fiercely.  The little girl looked frantically at the four dreamwalkers - whom she'd never seen before but had instantly accepted as belonging in her dream - and did a quick count.  "We don't have enough!" she cried.

"Play a lullaby on your lute of something!" Alewyth suggested to Xandro, looking down at the horrid face of a crying human baby grafted onto the slimy neck of a large snail.

"That won't work!" Rosie chided.  "You have to rock them back to sleep, like this!"  She demonstrated with the one she held in her arms, but with six other snails wailing there was no way she was going to be able to get this one to fall asleep.

"We need Thurloe," Alewyth deduced and Xandro was all too glad to use that as an excuse to depart Rosie's dream - he, too, was bothered by the sight of these snail/human baby hybrid monsters.  "We'll go get someone else to help us get them all back to sleep," he promised Rosie, before opening the door that allowed them to exit the little girl's dream.

"If Thurloe had been here," pointed out Zander, "you know what his suggestion would have been: slaughter all the snail babies and get on with the damn tea party, if that's what it takes to wake her up."

"Probably," agreed Alewyth.  "But let's all wake up ourselves and see what's up with Thurloe."

"Good luck, kupo!" encouraged Mogo as the four dreamwalkers all forced themselves awake.  One after the other, each suddenly just disappeared from the Dreamlands and awoke back up in their own bodies.

The four heroes saw Mr. and Mrs. Picklemeyer start as the dreamwalkers started rising from their lotus positions.  They looked over to their daughter, but Rosie was still sound asleep in her blanket.  "What happened?  Is everything all right?" asked Petunia.

"We had a slight problem," admitted Alewyth, bending down over Thurloe, who still sat in the lotus position, sound asleep.  "Nothing to worry about, though."  _I hope_, the dwarf added silently to herself.

"Check out his aura, just in case," suggested Zander.

"Doppelgangers wouldn't necessarily have an evil aura," pointed out Wakuren, but he focused his attention on Thurloe anyway.  "He's clean," he reported back to the others.  Then he slapped Thurloe lightly on the side of the face.  "Wakey-wakey," he told the sleeping spellsword.

"Huh--what?" gasped Thurloe as he was slapped awake and the first thing he saw was Wakuren's half-orc visage smack dab in his field of vision.  "What's going on?"

"Where were you?" demanded Wakuren.

"What do you mean?"

"You never showed in the Dreamlands.  What were you doing, wandering about?  Exploring on your own or something?"

"What?  No..." Thurloe answered, his brows lowering in a frown.  "I don't think so...."  It was puzzling, for the whole reason these five had been chosen by the Queen of Dreams as her personal representatives on the Material Plane in the first place was because they had perfect recall of their time spent in the Dreamlands - but Thurloe couldn't remember anything that had happened since he first fell asleep at Rosie's side.

"Let me try something," Wakuren suggested, casting a _protection from evil_ spell upon Thurloe and then ushering everyone back into position to try again.  But this time was the same as before: the other four dreamwalkers showed up in the Dreamlands and were met by their moogle guides, but Doc was left hanging out by himself as Thurloe was nowhere to be seen.  Once it was apparent he wasn't going to show up any time soon, they woke themselves back up again and slapped Thurloe back awake as well.

"Maybe something's wrong with your dreamstone?" suggested Xandro, grasping at straws.  Just to be sure, though, Thurloe and Wakuren swapped headbands and they all tried a third time, with the same results.  "Well, that wasn't it," the bard admitted.  "You don't think the Nightmare King has found a way to separate us somehow when we're dreaming...?"

"We need to see where Thurloe's going when he falls asleep," Alewyth suggested, scooting everyone into a circle around Thurloe instead of Rosie.  "Wait a minute, this won't work," pointed out Xandro.  "There are only four of us around him - we need five!"

"We can put a dreamstone on the cooshee," Zander suggested, and the elven dog wagged his tail at hearing himself mentioned.

"He's not a trained dreamwalker," scoffed Thurloe.  "But I'll tell you what: let's give me the 'target' dreamstone as well as the one I normally wear - maybe that'll give me a boost."  He added Rosie's headband to his own and they all tried a fourth time, with predictable results.  The other four were in the Dreamlands as usual, and Thurloe was nowhere to be seen.  "Any ideas?" Xandro asked Mogo, explaining everything they'd tried thus far.

"Something's changed since last night, when Thurloe was last in the Dreamlands, kupo," the moogle observed.  "Is he sleeping now, kupo?"  Alewyth assured the moogle that Thurloe was sound asleep in the Picklemeyers' cottage.  "Then let's see if we can find his dream, kupo!" said the moogle, turning to the Hall of Doors.  The halls started flashing by sideways, moving at incredible speeds as the moogle dreamwalking trainer flipped through hallway after hallway.  Doors sped by at increasing speeds, causing Alewyth to turn a bit green from motion sickness even though she was standing perfectly still.  But eventually the doors slowed down and the hallways stopped reconfiguring themselves to Mogo's specifications and the trainer sighed, "He's not here, kupo!"

"How is that possible?" asked Alewyth.

Mogo shrugged his little kittenish shoulders.  "If I had to hazard a guess, it sounds like he's been taken by a night hag, kupo," Mogo replied.  He went on to explain that night hags were horrible creatures from the Lower Planes, who attached themselves to a victim and then haunted their nightmares, riding them all night long and draining them of their physical vitality each night.  Eventually, with the victim getting weaker and weaker, he was transformed into a creature called a larva, which the night hag then sold to devils or demons for their own horrific use.

"But why can't we find him, if he's asleep?" asked Zander.

"Think of the Dreamlands as a large field, kupo," suggested Mogo.  "Whenever anyone dreams, their dream takes place in a little section of the field, kupo.  But a night hag, she digs a little hole in the field - like a gopher hole - and covers the top of it with a clump of dirt, so you can look all over the field and you won't ever find her, kupo.  If a night hag has gotten hold of Thurloe, then every time he dreams he'll end up in a hidden pocket somewhere where we can't detect him, kupo."

This was horrible news, but they needed to do what they could to put a stop to it and the first thing was letting Thurloe know what was happening.  They thanked Mogo, promised to keep him up to date, and returned to their physical bodies once again, where they explained to the puzzled Picklemeyers that they wouldn't be able to wake up Rosie that night after all.  "We've run into a temporary problem with one of our dreamwalkers, but we'll have him fixed up soon and we'll come back to wake up Rosie as soon as we can!" Alewyth promised them.

They found lodging in one of the inns and made the best of the evening, Thurloe finally falling asleep with some trepidation knowing what was in store for him.  He slept fitfully, and there was no sight of him in the Dreamlands.  Unwilling to continue training only four of his five students, Mogo gave the others the night off as a free exercise to practice the dreamwalking techniques he'd already shown them.  And in the morning, when they gathered together, Thurloe looked terrible: bloodshot eyes with dark bags beneath, as if he hadn't gotten any sleep at all.  "Do you remember anything?" Alewyth prompted.

"Not a thing," Thurloe replied.  "But I feel like crap."  Wakuren tried casting a _lesser restoration_ spell upon the spellsword, but it didn't seem to have any effect.

Alewyth and Wakuren prepared their day's spells, and the dwarven priestess of Aerik selected a _divination_ spell to see if it could help them determine what was happening to Thurloe when he slept.  Casting the spell, Alewyth received the following cryptic reply to her question, "What will happen to Thurloe when he next goes to sleep?"  The answer came from the air above her,

​"In spider's web, the night hag boasts,​She'll ride her prey in the land of ghosts."​

"The land of ghosts: that's the Ethereal Plane," observed Wakuren.  "She's got her trap set in the Ethereal Plane."

"How does that help us?" snarled Thurloe.  "We can't get to the Ethereal Plane."

"No, we can't," Alewyth admitted.  "But I'll bet a cleric of Delphyne, Goddess of Magic could get us there.  And they'd probably know a lot more about night hags than we do."

"Where's the nearest cleric of Delphyne?" Zander asked.  "I doubt they have one hanging around Snail Valley."

"There's a temple of Delphyne back in Baron's Haven," Xandro recalled.  "But that's at least a week behind us.  Our best bet's probably Devlinshire."

"...Where we're wanted criminals," pointed out Alewyth.

"True, true," Xandro admitted, "but they'll be looking for the full five of us, and we do rather stand out.  But if just one of us were to return to the city...."

"Two of us," Wakurn countered.  "I can be _invisible_, right beside you."

"And the rest of us?" asked Zander.

"We can be inside a _rope trick_," Thurloe answered.  "I can cast it underneath the wagon.  It'll work.  Let's go, then."  He was eager to be free of this night hag, if this was how he was going to feel after each night spent with her.  They decided to have Xandro steer the wagon into town, with Wakuren invisible in the seat next to him.  Xandro, a wandering bard, had the best reason for entering the city and also had the quickest wit when it came to talking himself out of situations, if there were any suspicions at the city gates.  But his silver tongue wasn't needed; the guards asked him no questions and he steered the wagon down the street of temples, seeking out Delphyne's holy symbol on the buildings as they drove past.  Wakuren spotted it and Xandro brought the mules to a halt before the structure, while Wakuren ducked under the wagon, stuck his head into the extradimensional space where the other three were hiding, and they made their way surreptitiously into the temple of Delphyne.

Their meeting with the clerics there was both good and bad.  Good, in that they knew some lore about night hags and had spellcasters capable of casting a _plane shift_ spell for them (for a suitable donation, of course); bad in that none of the clerics powerful enough to cast that spell currently had it on hand - the group would have to meet again the next day to have the spell cast upon them.  In the meantime, they'd prepare a scroll of _plane shift_ so the five heroes would be able to return to the Material Plane when their extraplanar business had been completed.  That meant another night's depredations at the hands of the night hag, but it couldn't be helped - and at least Thurloe had no memories of his time spent in the night hag's dream trap.  He opted to sleep inside the extradimensional space of a _rope trick_ spell, hoping against hope the night hag wouldn't be able to find him if he fell asleep in an entirely different dimension, but he awoke the next morning knowing that nothing had changed: he felt even worse, with aching joints and bones as if he were sick with the flu.

But at least today they'd hopefully be able to deal with the situation at hand.  They returned to the temple of Delphyne ready to do battle with the night hag and get Thurloe released from her thrall.  They paid over the money requested by the clerics, the lead cleric cast the spell herself, and the five heroes were shunted through the planes to end up on the Ethereal Plane.  And although the Ethereal Plane was in theory endless, the head cleric had theorized that since the night hag's "dream trap" was attuned to Thurloe, his arrival on the plane - even in physical form  - should be at least nearby where they wanted to be.

And such indeed seemed to be the case, for the five heroes found themselves in a misty world with an enormous black structure before them.  It seemed to be carved from an immense, black gemstone, rectangular in shape but with the four corners cut off on the diagonal, forming a lozenge shape.  The structure stood a good 20 feet tall and was more than twice that wide and four times as long.  A pair of solid-looking doors sat in the middle of one of the shorter sides of the structure, and as the others started casting their standard array of "prepare for combat" spells, Xandro pulled out his lockpicking tools and applied himself in earnest to the task of getting past the locking mechanism.

Alewyth cast a _magic circle against evil_ spell upon herself, following it up with a _bless_ spell upon the assembled group.  Thurloe cast a _mage armor_ spell on himself, used his wand to cast a _shield_ spell upon himself, and then passed the wand over to Zander so the elf could do likewise.  Zander also cast a _mage armor_ spell upon himself, then cast two _bear's endurance_ spells, one on himself and one on Wakuren, before casting a _haste_ spell on the group.  Wakuren, in the meantime, contented himself with a _protection from evil_ spell and the _invisibility_ provided to him from his magic ring.

"How's that lock coming?" asked Thurloe, eager to get on with it.

"Just got it...now!" replied Xandro, opening the door and putting away his tools.  However, there were two guardians on the other side of the doors and they charged forward at the intruders to their mistress's secret realm.  These were vaguely reptilian creatures, with scales of an iridescent blue and complicated, three-part jaws that allowed their trifold mouths to open wide and snatch up prey.  The first one sprinted in a dash for Xandro, but Thurloe cut it down with his bastard sword as soon as it stuck its head out of the door.  It crashed to the ground at the spellsword's feet.  The other one snapped at Thurloe, but he managed to duck back from its snapping teeth and stabbed forward with the blade of his sword, skewering it through the chest.  Just that quickly, both ethereal marauders were slain.  Alewyth stepped up, _Sjondra_ at the ready in case there were any more of these strange creatures, but it looked like there had just been the two.  Warily, she stepped inside the structure.

Ahead, in the interior of the rectangular building, stood what at first looked to be a giant igloo, although closer examination showed it had been crafted of webbing, not ice.  Most of it sat in the back of the building, a 40-foot-diamter hemisphere with a long, sloped projection sticking out towards the doors of the gemlike structure.  Unseen by any of the heroes - who weren't in a position to be able to see the interior sides of the upper dome on either side of the "entry tunnel" - a pair of phase spiders, each the size of a large horse, hung upside-down ready to pounce on anyone who entered their lair.

Thurloe advanced down the entry tunnel cautiously - the interior was murkily lit in some unknown fashion, but he was getting a disturbing sense of _déjà vu_, as if he'd been inside this dome before.  And if this was indeed the night hag's dream trap, then it made sense that he had in fact been here; he just had no conscious memory of it.

Zander stood at the beginning of the tunnel, not yet ready to enter.  He brought the words to a _lightning bolt_ spell to the forefront of his brain, ready to cast the spell if anything were to show up and look menacing.  The Delphynian clerics had warned the group that fire and cold were useless against a night hag, so he was hoping a blast of electricity would be just the thing.  Xandro, in the meantime, pulled the _Dardolian lute_ from his back and began playing his song of inspirational courage.  If ever there was a need to set fears to bay, this creepy place was it!

Alewyth cast an _aid_ spell on herself as she stepped forward down the entry tunnel.  But Wakuren was there ahead of her, stepping boldly into the dome and examining the 10-foot-diameter metal disk he found on the floor in the center of the curved structure.  It had arcane runes along its surface and probably served some sort of purpose similar to a _teleportation circle_, he guessed - maybe this was how the hag entered the structure, although that wouldn't explain why the front door was locked.  If there was a lock on the door, you would expect she'd have the key.  Perhaps, he ruminated, this was the device that lured Thurloe to this specific destination when he fell asleep.  He turned to ask Thurloe if that had been the case, and was surprised to see not only the spellsword right there behind him - the half-orc hadn't heard him approach - but a pair of giant spiders drop down from the ceiling and attack, mandibles dripping with venom.

Of course, as Wakuren was still hidden behind the _invisibility_ spell of his ring, both spiders attacked Thurloe, the only foe they saw.  But Wakuren popped back into view as he brought the bottom of his shield crashing down upon the mottled abdomen of the nearest spider.  Back at the entrance, Zander took a step to the side to better line up his field of vision and cast the _lightning bolt_ he'd had ready to fire.  It zapped through the first phase spider to have successfully bitten Thurloe, but then the second one scrabbled up and bit the spellsword as well.  Thurloe's bastard sword came crashing down upon the head of that one, cleaving it through, right between its largest pair of eyes, and it fell to the ground, eight legs twitching spasmodically.  Alewyth ran up to the remaining spider and slammed it with _Sjondra_, and then Zander finished it off with a _scorching ray_ spell, figuring the night hag might be immune to fire magic but a giant spider likely wasn't.

The spiders slain, Thurloe went back to examining the plate on the floor.  "I remember this," he said.  "I didn't before, but now that I'm here, I remember this whole dome thing, and this plate on the floor.  This is where I'd end up when I fell asleep."  He turned and faced the back of the dome.  "And the night hag would come for me from the back, over there."  Everyone looked around the dome, but there was no sign of the night hag.  And then Zander's keen elven vision picked up a bit of metal tucked in among the webbing at the base of the dome, along the floor.  Pulling away at the strands keeping it in place, he saw it was a metal oil lamp, of the kind stories attributed to magic genies and the like.

"Yes!" Thurloe cried when he saw the lamp.  "She'd touch it, and she'd say something, and then we were someplace else - inside the lamp, no doubt."

"What did she say?" prompted Alewyth.

"Hang on, I'm thinking.  'Entrer,' 'antrar,' 'eintrar'..."eintret!'  She said 'eintret!'"

"Gather together," Wakuren told the others.  "This probably works like a _teleport_ spell - we should all be in contact with each other."  Huddling together, Thurloe touched the lamp and said "Eintret" - and suddenly, they were elsewhere.

Thurloe was standing on another round, metal plate on the floor, much the same size and shape as the one in the middle of the phase spider dome, and this too was in the middle of a domelike structure overhead, but there were three openings and one closed door along the cardinal points around this dome, which was not constructed of webbing but rather seemed to have been carved out of a pocket of stone.  It had the same rough dimensions as the web-dome, though: about 20 feet tall and 40 feet in diameter.  The hemisphere looked vaguely familiar, but then Thurloe didn't have any more time for sight-seeing as they were under attack.

Xandro had been standing to Thurloe's left when they _teleported_ into this extradimensional space, and as a result he had been the closest to the open stables on the eastern side of the reception area.  Charging out of the straw-filled stables came a pitch-black horse with a flaming mane and hooves, snorting steam from its flared nostrils.  It raced forward and reared up, striking the bard with a flaming hoof that sent him staggering backwards a step or two.  The group recognized the creature as a nightmare, having met up with one before in a dream.

Thurloe stepped away from the nightmare, not out of fear but out of recognition: the closed door, he now recalled, led to the night hag's bedroom, where she would ride him all night long, cackling in glee at his pain.  Nightmare be damned, the others could deal with the hag's horse - he wanted payback from the evil fiend who had been sapping his physical vitality for two nights!  Knowing instinctively the door was unlocked, Thurloe flung it open while casting a _mirror image_ spell upon himself, causing there to be not one spellsword but four identical ones crowding the doorway.  Thurloe couldn't help himself; he called out, "Hi, honey - I'm home!"

"Why, indeed you are, dearie - couldn't stay away, could you?  And you brought friends!  Oh, this is going to be quite an interesting session, I can already tell!"

Zander Quilson cast a reliable standby, _magic missile_, at the nightmare rearing and kicking at Xandro.  As expected, the missiles struck unerringly into the monster horse's flank.  Wakuren ran around to the back of the beast, putting all of his considerable strength into the force of his swing as he brought the pointed bottom edge of his _shield of Cal_ stabbing into the horse's side, causing it to scream in pain.  The attack brought the half-orc back to full visibility, but that had been a good trade-off as far as Wakuren was concerned.  On the other side of the nightmare, Xandro stabbed at the beast with his longsword, catching it just behind its front leg.  In return, it focused its attention on the bard, lashing out at him with its flaming hooves and snapping at him with its wicked teeth, which were far sharper than the teeth of a horse had any right to be.

Alewyth cast a _spiritual weapon_ spell and sent the dwarven warhammer flying at the night hag, where it shattered upon her innate spell resistance, much to the surprise and consternation of the dwarven priestess.  The night hag, *Hesperna Vanderdaark*, ignored the shattering weapon and came in close to grab at Thurloe, but the image she grabbed was one of the spell effects and it popped into nothingness at her touch.  "Playing hard to get, are we, sweetie?" she crooned at Thurloe, giving him a smile that put his hair on edge.  He channeled his _torc of the titans_ to put some extra power behind his swing - for her nightly depredations had left him fatigued - and sent his bastard sword slicing into her age-hardened skin.

Zander dropped his _jade cooshee_ on the floor and called out the command word that brought it to life.  "Go help Thurloe!" he told it, and it dashed off to do his master's bidding, snapping at Hesperna, to admittedly little effect.  But then Alewyth pushed past Thurloe and swung _Sjondra_ into the night hag's side, trusting _this_ dwarven warhammer at least wouldn't shatter upon the night hag's touch.  Then she stepped back and remembered the spell she'd prepared to ensure the night hag didn't get away; fortunately, her _dimensional anchor_ spell took full effect, trapping Hesperna right here in the room with the rest of them - if she wanted to escape, she'd have to push her way past the entire group and get to the disk on the floor of the reception dome.

Wakuren slew the nightmare with another bone-breaking blow of his shield upon the flaming equine's spine, and with the ebony-skinned beast out of the picture Xandro fell back to playing his song of inspirational courage on his lute.  After all, it was getting crowded there in the hag's bedroom.  Hesperna, tired of playing around with Thurloe, took a step back and flung out four _magic missiles_, hitting him (although that missile was harmlessly absorbed into his _shield_ spell), popping his two remaining _mirror images_ into nonexistence, and causing the cooshee to yelp in pain as a side bonus.  But Thurloe stepped forward and used another dose of enhanced strength from his magical torc to power another swing of his bastard sword.  Zander cast a _lightning bolt_ spell at Hesperna, but it too had no effect as it was absorbed be her hefty resistance to most spells.  The cooshee continued nipping at her ankles, trying to trip her to the floor, but she was having none of it.  Alewyth pressed the attack with _Sjondra_ and now Wakuren entered the room, slamming his shield into the night hag's side.

That finally made up Hesperna's mind.  She'd arrogantly thought she could handle Thurloe and his band of companions, but now too many of their attacks were getting through her defenses.  As much as she hated to admit it - or put her long-earned treasures on the line - she needed help, and fast.  With that realization, she darted back to her bed, yanked out a footlocker from beneath it, and popped open the lid.  Alewyth was close enough to see what was inside it: nearly half a dozen writhing worms, each about the size of her forearm.

Thurloe pressed on the attack, as a close grouping of _magic missiles_ flew over his shoulder to break apart into nothingness when they reached Hesperna, another victim of her innate resistance to spells.  Alewyth swung again with her warhammer, but hardly made enough of an attack for the night hag to even notice.  Her focus was on Thurloe, her current project and, with any luck, the sixth of her larvae, after which she'd be off to the Lower Planes to sell them off for a good deal of coin.  But first she had to survive, trapped as she was on this plane and unable to simply _plane shift_ away to the Material Plane.  She gave serious thought toward abandoning her magic lamp and escaping back to the Ethereal Plane, where she could likely lose these five heroes in the mists.

But then Wakuren made the whole issue moot by bringing the edge of his shield crashing into her face, driving her nose up into her brain while simultaneously snapping her neck.  Hesperna coughed up a bubble of blackish blood and fell to a heap in her own extradimensional bedroom.

However, that didn't mean the fight was all the way finished just yet.  One of the larval creatures wriggled out of the footlocker, inadvertently exposing one of the chest's magical properties, for as soon as it was out it grew eightfold until it was as long as a man.  It opened wide its circular mouth and spewed forth a small rain of wriggling maggots at Thurloe, covering the spellsword in flyspawn.  He involuntarily stepped back and started brushing the maggots off of him, while Xandro stepped forward and slammed the lid back down, imprisoning the other four larvae.  Alewyth killed the one that had gotten free with her dwarven warhammer.

"Is that it?" Thurloe asked, still wiping maggots off of his body and crushing them underfoot with his boots.  Alewyth aided him in his task.

"It looks like it," Zander answered.  "The rest of the stable's empty, and all I see in the other rooms are a bunch of tables and a pool of water."  A quick search confirmed the rest of the extradimensional space was clear of enemies.  Closer examination of the lab revealed a few magical items Hesperna had apparently crafted there in her lab - a bag of _dust of illusion_, a vial of _elixir of truth_, and a vial of _salve of slipperiness_ - and a brief check-out of the pool revealed it not only cleaned the  bodies and clothes of anyone entering its waters, but full submersion resulted in gaining the equivalent sustenance as if one had just consumed an entire meal.  And Hesperna had a second, smaller chest stored under her bed, this one filled with gems and coins, including several of the gold coins with the pointy-bearded man on one side and a lit torch on the other.

"Guys," said Xandro excitedly.  "Do you know what this means?  _Mobile headquarters!_"

"It'll need some cleaning out, first," muttered Alewyth, looking at the squashed maggots on the floor of Hesperna's bedroom and the full-size corpses of the slain larva, nightmare, and of Hesperna herself.  She gave a shiver of disgust.

Figuring out how to leave was easy enough, as the word "AUSSTEIG" was carved in the middle of the metal disk in the reception dome.  Sure enough, by stepping on the plate and saying the command word, one was shunted to stand adjacent to the magic lamp, in this case back under the web-dome inside the black lozenge-shaped building.  Alewyth and Xandro had brought the footlocker with them, and they allowed the other larvae out one at a time for the sole purpose of slaying them.  But that done, they opted to keep the footlocker - one never knew when you might need to crawl inside and get shrunken down to one-eighth your normal size.  It would be a good way to smuggle a bunch of people out of a building or something, that was for sure, even if it didn't seem to have any effect on non-living matter placed into the chest.

"Let's get out of here," Thurloe said, eager to be back to the Material Plane.  More than anything else, he was eager to get back to the Dreamlands, just to prove to himself he could.  But Xandro held him off for a bit.  "You know," he said, "phase spider silk can be sold for a hefty sum to those interested in making magic items.  _Portable holes_, for instance."  Even Thurloe, eager as he was to see the end of this place, had no compunctions about hanging around long enough to cut down chunks of the phase spider silk that made up the "igloo dome."  It was just a shame they wouldn't be able to return back here once they left, since the scroll of _plane shift_ Alewyth had received from the clerics of Delphyne was only good for one trip back to the Mortal World.

Once they'd cut and stowed all they could carry, Alewyth unrolled the scroll, read the words contained therein, and the five of them returned to the Material World, back inside the temple of Delphyne.  There, they got directions to a few local businesses where they might be able to sell phase spider silk, and hurried off to load up the wagon with the handfuls they had been able to take with them (and the footlocker, which they had stuffed full as well).  Then, it was back to invisibility for Wakuren, back to the interior of the magic lamp for Zander, Alewyth, and Thurloe (where the dwarven priestess quickly put the men on cleaning detail), and Xandro was back to driving the wagon out of Devlinshire and back over to Snail Valley.

The Picklemeyers were happy to hear that the "slight issue" had been taken care of and that the five dreamwalkers were certain they could awaken their daughter Rosie for sure this time.  And, after each of the dreamwalkers got to experience for him- or herself the "joys" of rocking a crying, baby-faced snail to sleep in their arms, they all enjoyed a quick cup of pretend tea with Rosie and Mr. Bear, after which time the dream started collapsing around them.  "Time to wake up!" called out Wakuren, and the six woke back up on the Material Plane all at once.

"Where's Mr. Bear?" Rosie asked, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.  Jarko dashed back into her room to grab the stuffed animal while Petunia grabbed her daughter up into her arms and buried her in a hug.

"We can't thank you enough," Jarko told the five dreamwalkers as they prepared to depart.

"Here, I'd like you to have this," Petunia said, handing over a silver ring.  "It's been in my family for three generations and it's got some kind of magic in it, but it's only of any use to a spellcaster and I don't have any such abilities.  Perhaps you can use it."  Wakuren tried declining, but Petunia was adamant.  "We've not much else to pay you with," she insisted.  "Please.  Put it to good use."  Eventually, Wakuren agreed, if only to make the Picklemeyers feel better.

"What's your deal?" complained Thurloe when they were back outside heading to their wagon and the riding animals.  "When somebody insists on giving you payment, you take payment!"

"Kind of like that gold coin that 'noblewoman' gave you on the road?" Wakuren asked.

"Yeah, I suppose."

"You realize that noblewoman was the night hag in human form, and the coin was probably some sort of focus device that allowed her to reel you in like a fish," the half-orc pointed out.

"What?  Did you read her aura?  Was she evil?"

"I didn't look," admitted Wakuren.  "It's not polite to go around assuming everyone's a potential source of evil."

"I quite agree," said the little gnome sitting on the front seat of the wagon.  He held a burlap sack on his lap.

"Wangle!" exclaimed Alewyth.  "What are you doing here?"

"Possible delivery," he replied.  "Were you still interested in that pair of _boots of striding and springing_ you put a down-payment on?  I understand you've come into some money recently."  Alewyth chose not to press how the gnome knew so much about her personal business, but she answered in the affirmative.  Wangle Turdblossom reminded her of how much she still owed on the boots, she turned over the coins from her share of Hesperna's treasure and the money they'd made off of the phase spider silk, and the gnome handed over the burlap sack.  "Wear them in good health," he advised, then scooted down from the wagon and ambled away, whistling a merry tune.

"He's a strange little fellow," Wakuren observed.

"Gnomes, taken as a whole, generally are," Alewyth remarked.

 - - -

In all of my years of gaming, I don't think I'd ever used a night hag before, so I specifically wrote this adventure just to be able to use one - especially since the night hag's "dream haunting" ability meshed so nicely with the main concept of this campaign.  Since night hags target evil and/or chaotic individuals for their larva conversion, Thurloe became the only logical target, since we don't have any evil PCs and he's the only one with a chaotic component to his alignment.

For Rosie's dream sequence, I had seven tabs open to YouTube on my computer, each ready to play an hour of the sound of a baby crying.  As soon as the first snail baby started crying, I activated one such link, then started playing the other six when the one's crying woke up the others.  It was a marvelous cacophony, but one the players begged me not to use again when they returned to Rosie's dream after getting Thurloe rescued from the night hag.

 - - -

T-shirt worn: My solid gray T-shirt (to represent the Ethereal Plane).


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## Richards (Jul 24, 2022)

*INTERLUDE: A VOICE IN THE HEAD*

PC Roster:  Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 7
            Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 3/spellsword 1
            Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 3/paladin 4
            Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 5/rogue 2
            Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 7​
Game Session Date: 23 July 2022

 - - -

The group was several days out of Snail Valley and Zander Quilson had been very quiet and introspective.  Thurloe had also been very quiet, giving Horse a break by having him follow along behind the mule-driven wagon, his reins tied to the back while Thurloe sat in the back of the wagon and pored over his various captured spellbooks, trying to puzzle out how to cast some of the spells he had yet to master.  Zander had no such excuse for his silence, though, for he wasn't actively engaged in anything like magical research; he just found he was easily distracted, his thoughts whirling from one distant memory to another.

The group had taken to using their extradimensional lamp as a mobile headquarters (and a means by which they saved money on inn rooms).  If they stopped in a small village or town, Xandro Silverstrings always sought out the local taverns and inns to see if they'd be interested in hiring him on to play and sing during their evening meal and into the night, often just for room and board, occasionally for a bit of coin on top of that.  But that at least got him a room for the night, and if he brought in the lamp - with the others in the group, to include the animals and the wagon already stashed inside the extradimensional space - that saved a considerable amount on rooms and stabling costs.

This particular night, the group had settled in for the evening, with Alewyth claiming the one bed they had in the night hag's bedroom and Wakuren bunking down on his bedroll in the same room, Thurloe camping out in the alchemy lab, Xandro sleeping in the back of the wagon (which they left in the main entrance room, as the wagon was too big to go anywhere else), and Zander had laid out his bedroll in the same main entryway, along the curved wall of the hemispherical chamber.  The elf was just settling himself down to sleep when he suddenly heard a voice in his head.

<...hear me?> it said.  At first, Zander wasn't sure he'd heard anything at all, for the voice was very faint.  Then he wondered if it might have been one of the moogles in the Dreamlands, as they'd found a way for them to communicate with the dreamwalkers through the dreamstones embedded in particular pieces of the heroes' equipment - Zander's _jade cooshee_, for example, now had eyes made of the strange stones.  But no, the elf realized if it had been a moogle speaking to him, the last word would have invariably been "kupo."

<Can you hear me?> the voice repeated, and Zander sat up in his bedroll.  "I can hear you," he replied, causing Xandro to sit up from the back of the wagon and see what was going on.  "Lights on," the bard commanded and the unseen source of illumination bathed the area in its soft glow.  "What's going on, Zander?" he asked.

"Are you hearing anybody talking telepathically?" the elf asked.

<You'll be the only one who can hear me,> the voice informed Zander, <since I'm living inside you.>

"You're _what?_" demanded the elf.

"What's going on?" demanded Thurloe, the light from the entry dome spilling into the alchemy lab where he'd been just about asleep.  "What are you clowns up to?"

"Zander's getting some kind of telepathic message," Xandro informed the grumpy swordsman.

<Now, I don't want you to freak out,> said the voice in Zander's head.  <You're not going to freak out, are you?  Take some calming breasts...no, that's not right...what's the word?  Yes, breaths!   Do that breathing thing you do.>

"Who are you?" demanded Zander, starting to hyperventilate.  "How did you get in me?"  This course of conversation had Thurloe and Xander, both now wide awake, looking at each other in confusion.

<I'm actually a part of a larger being from another entirely different plane of existence, and I sent a portion of my body into your world, where I happened to latch onto you.  I've spent the last few weeks growing throughout your body until now I've finally expanded into a large enough network that I'm capable of communicating with you.  Now, have you been doing that breathing thing?  Are you all nice and calm?>

"As calm as can be expected."

"Okay then, look down at your right leg.  No, the front leg.  Arm!  That's what it's called!  Look down at your right arm.  And remember what I said about not freaking out.>

As instructed, Zander rolled up his sleeve and looked down at his right arm.  On the forearm, just below the elbow, there was a small, brown discoloration - a beauty mark, they were called.  Zander didn't remember ever noticing he had a beauty mark in that particular place before.

And then the "beauty mark" cracked open and the elf found himself looking down at a tiny eye on his arm that was staring right back up at him.  Quite the contrary to his instructions, Zander found himself freaking out.  <Calm down!> the voice repeated.  <Deep breaths!  I'm not going to hurt you!  Hey!  Are you listening to me?>  Zander was crying out in a panicked voice, and when the beauty mark extended itself a good eighteen inches on a thin, flexible tendril extruding from the elf's forearm so the eye could stare directly into Zander's face, the effect did nothing but increase the panic he was feeling.

Eventually, though, his heart stopped racing and he realized although this was certainly a strange turn of events, no real harm had come to him: the creature wasn't able to control his body, nor was he feeling any kind of pain from having this thing living inside of him.  "Why are you here?" he asked the eye, which had retracted itself painlessly back into Zander's forearm once he had started calming down.

<I'm an explorer,> the voice said.  <This process gives me the opportunity to see other worlds.  And this is a pretty boring world so far.  I mean, those trees you have here?  All they do is move a little bit on their tops when it's windy - they never seem to levitate in the air, or explode into a flock of fish or anything.  Your whole world seems pretty...static, is that the word?>  Zander agreed that it was.  Over the next few minutes, he and the creature inside him - the part of the larger creature, apparently called a _nibish-riule_, which was from a place called the Far Realm - discussed how their merging had come about.  Back up in Rindicane's tower, Zander had stepped from the tower's balcony on the Plane of Shadows and into the room with the magic window, which Rindicane had readjusted to open into the Far Realm.  The nibish-riule, intrigued by this window into another world, extended a piece of itself through the window (quite nice not having to pierce the planes itself) and adhered onto Zander's body, where it grew into a full network in a matter of weeks.  Zander now had six of these "beauty marks" on his body, each capable of extending on the tip of a thin tendril to look about it.  One thing the elf quickly latched upon was the fact that the nibish-riule could be put on guard duty if needed; Zander could be sound asleep and the six tendrils could be extended in all directions to look for danger, as the nibish-riule needed no sleep.  However, it would need to be trained on what did and did not constitute a threat in this world, lest it awaken Zander at the approach of a mouse or a dragonfly.  Zander also had to explain the concept of sleep to the extradimensional creature, who during its weeks of silent observation had merely assumed the elf died for a while each night and then returned to life.  The creature found the concept of sleep to be something of an oddity, but certainly more mundane than continually dying and returning to life.  It figured; this world seemed to go out of its way to be boring.

It had hundreds of questions with which to pester Zander, but the elf convinced it he needed to sleep and they could talk again in the morning.  He was somewhat surprised when the creature agreed; he'd been expecting it to put up more of an argument.  <That's okay,> it said amicably, <we have the rest of your life to talk....>  That didn't put Zander any at ease!

 - - - 

This was a plot point I had been planning on springing when the PCs all leveled up to 8th, but I fast-forwarded it a bit when I came to the realization that Zander's player, Joe, will be leaving for college shortly and we only have two regular sessions with him before Zander becomes a temporary NPC who's passed around among the other players to see who'll be running him (in addition to their own PC) each session.  I wanted the introduction of the "worry-wart" (as the "beauty mark" extensions of the nibish-riule are often called, given the creature's concerns for the well-being of its host, since if the host dies the nibish-riule loses its interesting window into the strange, new world it's being allowed to see) to occur with Joe "at the helm," so to speak.  And since this had no real bearing on the adventure we played through the session, I decided to just write it up as an interlude.


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## Richards (Jul 30, 2022)

*ADVENTURE 32: GHOULISH AMBITION*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 7​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 3/spellsword 1​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 3/paladin 4​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 5/rogue 2​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 7​
Game Session Date: 23 July 2022

 - - -

That night, in the Dreamlands, Zander explained all about the nibish-riule to Alewyth and Wakuren, who had missed all the excitement right before the other three made it to sleep.  They were astonished (and Alewyth more than a bit repulsed) at the thought of this extradimensional creature living inside their elven friend.  But it didn't seem to be doing him any harm, and Wakuren saw no alteration to Zander's aura, so they decided not to worry a whole lot about it.  Thurloe, however, decided the next chance he got he'd try to do some research on these nibish-riule things, to see if there was some way to get rid of it.  _Dismissal_ was always an option, as was _banishment_, although both of those particular spells were currently beyond his ability to cast.  Still, it bore checking out, just in case....

The moogles had no information on nibish-riules, claiming they didn't seem to dream.  In fact, while Zander was able to talk to the worry-wart on his arm and it extended and retracted at his request, he was well aware that this was just a dream and he was merely dreaming the worry-wart's actions.  There was no actual telepathic communication going on; apparently the nibish-riule couldn't contact Zander while the elf was sleeping.  But it did seem to like the concept of dreams and it certainly enjoyed poring through the elf's memories of past dreams, for the occasional strangeness of dreams was much more like the chaotic Far Realm from which the extradimensional creature hailed.

"We should probably check out the next dream-victim's dream," suggested Wakuren.  "We should hit Portersville late tomorrow morning."

"Right this way, kupo!" exclaimed Mogo, hovering at eye level to the half-orc and opening the door to the dream.  Without being right there by the dreamer's side - and without being able to place a dreamstone upon the sleeping victim's brow to aid in the process - Wakuren well knew they wouldn't be able to conquer this dream and free the dreamer, but it would at least give them some idea of what to expect.  He stepped through the doorway, the other four dreamwalkers following behind him.

They now stood in an alley, with a half-orc dressed in rags and holding a bloody short sword standing over the dead bodies of a well-to-do human woman and a rakish-looking human man.  A trio of human guards rushed down the alleyway and wrestled the half-orc to the ground.

"I think there's more to this dream, but he keeps going over this part again and again, kupo," observed Mogo, who for once had entered the dream with his trainees.  Indeed, as they watched the half-orc was suddenly standing over the two dead victims once again and the trio of guardsman started running down the alleyway at him.  The same sequence kept looping over and over.

"Not much point in hanging around here, then," decided Thurloe, stepping back out of the dream.  "So we're probably looking for a half-orc, then.  Good to know."

As expected, the group pulled into the small town of Portersville shortly before lunchtime.  As had become their custom - because it so often bore fruit - they hit the taverns, asking if anyone had heard of somebody in town having been unable to be awakened from their sleep for a matter of days or weeks.  But this time, to their surprise, the well was completely dry: all they got for their efforts were puzzled looks and questioning stares.  Some even accused the heroes of making up nonsensical tales.  "Well, this approach isn't working," Xandro observed.  "Let's go try the town hall and see if we can talk to some of the guardsmen directly."

The guard station was of little help, as nobody there was able to recall anybody being trapped in a sleeping state.  Thurloe took a different approach, wondering if perhaps there was a guard who hadn't shown up for work in some time, for he reasoned it was entirely possible the dreamer wasn't the half-orc being arrested but one of the officers taking him into custody.  But that didn't get him anywhere, either - they hadn't had any no-shows among their duty roster.

"Do you have any half-orcs currently in custody?" Wakuren asked, and was told they'd have to go check at the prison.  The guards they were talking with gave them directions to Bleakstone Prison, on the outskirts of town.

Bleakstone Prison was ringed by 12-foot-tall stone walls that had but a single opening: a thick, wooden door set into the front wall.  Naturally, this door was locked, but there was a bell hanging on a pole that could be rung to alert the guards inside of visitors.  Wakuren pulled on the bell-rope and after a minute or so, a sliding door at eye level opened in the door and a voice called out from the other side, "Who's there?  What do you want?"

Wakuren briefly explained why the group was there.  The guards, however, replied there was nobody inside the prison who'd been asleep for weeks, whether guards or inmates.  Thurloe said they wanted to talk to the prison administrator and hinted at a surprise health inspection; the guard told him to wait while one of them went back inside to see if *Administrator Morbhen* was willing to see them.  Closing the peek-hole sliding door in the meantime, he waited for his partner to return and this gave the heroes a moment to whisper quietly to each other.

"Health inspection?" hissed Wakuren.  "Why are you always so quick to lie to people?"

"Because it works!" Thurloe hissed back.  "You watch: they're going to let us in, and I'll bet you anything it's because the Administrator doesn't want to get in trouble by failing to allow health inspectors in to check out his facility!"

"But we're not health inspectors!" replied Wakuren.  "He'll see right through us!  If you stick to telling the truth, you don't find yourself in positions like this!"

Any reply Thurloe might have been about to make was cut off by the return of the first guard.  The sliding eye-level door was opened back up and the other guard told them, "Administrator Morbhen has agreed to let you in.  But normal rules apply: no weapons, no contraband, horses and wagons stay outside the fenced area.  Let me know when you're ready to enter, and you will be searched before being allowed access into the prison areas, so don't try hiding anything - we know all of the tricks."  Then he closed the window again and awaited notification that they were ready to enter.

"No weapons?" asked Alewyth, hefting her dwarven warhammer _Sjondra_.  "That'll make things more interesting if we run into any trouble."

"No weapons, Hell," answered Thurloe, putting a hand upon the magic lamp and signaling for everyone to gather together.  When they were all in contact, he said "eintret" and everyone teleported into the entry dome in the lamp's extradimensional interior.  "Leave everything we can't take into the prison here," he said.

"So you're planning on--" began Wakuren.

"--taking the lamp with all of our stuff into the prison, yeah," answered Thurloe for him.  "We might need this stuff - better we've got it at hand.  They might make us leave the lantern in a holding area or something, but it'll be a lot closer than outside the walls in the back of the wagon."  Wakuren took a deep breath to calm himself but left his shield on the floor as the rest of the group disarmed and left most of their gear behind.

"Are we keeping our armor?" asked Alewyth.

"Sure - why not?" answered Thurloe.

"_All_ health inspectors wear full armor during their no-notice inspections," Wakuren pointed out sarcastically.  Thurloe just ignored him.  But he noticed the half-orc had opted to keep his _gauntlet of Cal_ on his hand rather than leave it behind, no doubt thinking he might be allowed to wear it inside the prison, and its ability to hurl _javelins of lightning_ could indeed prove to be useful in a fight.

Once everyone had divested themselves of items they didn't think they'd be allowed to bring inside the prison, they returned to the Material Plane and informed the guards they were ready.  The door creaked open just enough to allow them to enter the outer courtyard around the prison building one by one, then the guards pulled the door shut again and locked it with a key on a large ring.  "This way, then," said one of the two guards, walking them across the open area and up to the front door of the prison, which required another key to unlock and open.  "Step inside," the guard told them, "and empty all pouches, pockets, and the like.  Then line up to be frisked."  Alewyth couldn't help but notice both guards kept darting glances in her direction; she finally chocked it up to the fact they probably didn't get a whole lot of women inside this men's prison.  It still didn't help her feel any less uncomfortable about their frequent stares, though - and she wasn't particularly looking forward to the frisking to come.

One guard held open a visitor's log and had each of the five write their names in the book, then they started the inspection of their items.  Wakuren and Alewyth were allowed to keep their holy symbols and the half-orc was pleased to note they didn't have any means for detecting for magic items; as a result, he got to keep his _gauntlet of Cal_ and similarly Thurloe got to keep his _torc of the titans_.  But all potions had to be stored away in boxes, as the guards pointed out the glass vials could be broken and used as a makeshift dagger or such.  Apparently such things had been tried before.

As the others were being searched, Xandro took a moment to look around.  In the right corner as one entered the prison, there was a holding cell with metal bars reaching from floor to ceiling; the cell was 10 feet on a side and was currently empty, with benches along two walls and a hole in the floor that could only be a public latrine.  The two guards each had their own desk and chair, and there was another narrow desk with a rack of shelves where the heroes' items (including, Thurloe was sad to see, their magic lamp) were temporarily stored in boxes.  The spellsword made a point to memorize which box the lamp had been placed in, if they should need to quickly fetch their weapons.

Once the guards were satisfied the items the group was being allowed to bring into the prison were harmless, one of them unlocked the door in the back that led to the mess hall.  "The administrator's office is in the back," the guard said as the other one relocked the door they had just passed through.  Along the way, they saw a rather bored-looking cook behind the counter where apparently the meals were served, and then three long tables and benches where the convicts ate their meals; currently, there were only four other guards sitting at one of the tables, playing cards.  The convicts were no doubt all in their cells, which were presumably behind the closed and locked iron door on the right side of the mess hall.

Arriving at the appropriate door, the guard rapped twice and received a curt "Come in" as a response.  There, sitting behind his desk, was Administrator Morbhen.  He opted not to rise as the five visitors walked into his spacious office, and Zander and Alewyth took the two seats facing his desk.  The other three, having no other options, chose to stand.

Wakuren started explaining the whole story about the Nightmare King and the dream sickness that was spreading across the land, and although the administrator said nothing and tried to keep a neutral expression on his face, Wakuren got the distinct impression that the high elf did not approve of half-orcs in the least.  Still, he pressed on and then asked if there was anyone at the prison who had been asleep for a matter of days or weeks and who was unable to be awakened.

"Certainly not," replied Administrator Morbhen.  "I run a tight ship here - any employee missing work due to excess sleeping would have been terminated on the spot."

"What about the prisoners?" asked Alewyth.

"They likewise have their daily schedules to maintain.  They are awakened, their cells inspected, receive their mandatory exercise," - and the administrator's face let out a hint about what he thought about _that_ particular policy - "and fed their meals.  There is no one in this facility asleep for longer than they should be."

"Do you have any half-orc prisoners?" asked Thurloe.

"No.  Our prisoners are all humans.  Given the human predilection for crime and depravity, this is perhaps not too surprising."  He managed to glare at both Thurloe and Xandro, as if trying to determine how long before either of them would end up behind bars.

"But you've had half-orc prisoners in here before?  Recently?" Thurloe pressed.

"We have had a half-orc prisoner in here recently, yes," agreed Administrator Morbhan.  "He is no longer with us."

"Rehabilitated?" guessed Wakuren.

"Dead.  He was stabbed to death by a human inmate who managed to smuggle a spoon into his cell and sharpen it into a crude blade.  Humans can be rather clever when it comes to doing what they do best."

"You don't seem to hold that high an opinion of humans," observed Thurloe.  "And yet all of your guards are human.  Why might that be?"

"One does one's best with the tools at hand.  You'll notice Portersville is predominantly made up of a human population."

"What happened to the half-orc prisoner who was stabbed here?" asked Alewyth.  "Was he buried here at the prison?  Is there a prison graveyard?"  She had a sudden premonition that the half-orc might have been buried alive if he was in a dream-induced coma and gave every indication of being dead.  If that had happened, they'd have to convince the administrator to allow them to dig him up to see if he could be revived - a prospect she could see would take some doing.

Administrator Morbhan's disdain for his visitors didn't seem to apply to the dwarven priestess or the elven sorcerer.  As such, he answered her directly without any sneering or looks of distaste at having to deal with a member of a lesser race.  "Bleakstone Prison has no graveyard, Miss.  The body was taken away by the town councilors, to do with what they normally do in such cases.  Cremation is most likely, I believe, if the former inmate had no immediate family at hand."  He turned his head to address the entire group at large.  "Now then, I believe that answers your questions.  I'll have one of the guards escort you out."  He dismissed them with a glance and Xandro took the hint, opening the door and stepping outside.

"Thank you for your time," Wakuren said pleasantly as he and the rest of the group followed Xandro and the guard who had brought them here, who had been waiting outside the door during their visit.

"Tell me you did a reading," Thurloe said to Wakuren, and the half-orc knew exactly what he had been referring to: the administrator's aura.

"Exactly as you no doubt would have expected," Wakuren replied, not wanting to broadcast "He's evil" in front of the guard leading them back the way they'd come.

But they only made it halfway across the mess hall when there was a commotion at the door leading to the in-processing area.  With a fumbling of keys, the other guard who had stayed in the front area burst open through the door, a panicked look on his face.  The reason for this was immediately behind him: a menacing form made up of a filthy sheet, which floated several inches above the floor.  The linen had no doubt once been white, but now it was gray from lack of recent cleaning with streaks of what looked - and smelled - like fecal matter covering it in rough stripes along its length.  A pair of glowing, greenish eyes glared out at the guard as he stumbled through the doorway, eager to escape the sheet phantom approaching him with evil intent.

Thurloe rushed forward, instinctively reaching for the bastard sword that was no longer on a scabbard on his back.  "Clear the way!" called Wakuren, and Thurloe and the guard both stepped to the side, giving the cleric-paladin of Cal a clear shot when he summoned forth a _javelin of lightning_ into the _gauntlet of Cal_ he wore on his right hand.  Throwing the bolt of electricity across the room, it blasted into the sheet phantom and burned a hole in the front part of the sheet - revealing there was nothing underneath the sheet, even though its shape conformed to that of a person wearing a sheet over his body.

Most of Xandro's bardic powers and spells required him to play music, and the _Dardolian lute_ had been left behind in a box in the front room - after all, it could be used as a blunt instrument by a prisoner looking for a convenient weapon.  So he used a spell he'd never had the need to cast before: _summon instrument_, which caused a non-magical lute to appear in his hands, summoned from who-knows-where.  But Xandro Silverstrings began the first chords of his song of inspirational courage, knowing his partners would need every advantage they could get, what with just about all of their weapons having been stored away in the room just beyond the open door - and which was now blocked by a filth-covered sheet phantom.

The guards who had been playing cards rushed up and drew their weapons, as did the one escorting the heroes back out of the prison; the one fleeing from the sheet phantom took refuge behind Thurloe, although what safety he thought the unarmed spellsword could provide him, only he knew.  However, Thurloe provided nothing less than a perfectly good target for the sheet phantom's attack, as he was now the closest living person to the undead sheet of soiled linen.  It swooped over at Thurloe, its sheet spreading out like a net to try to encompass the spellsword, but Thurloe managed to drop low and dodge beneath the attack.  He then took the opportunity to run through the doorway, over to the box where he knew the group's magic lamp was stored.  He called out "eintret" as soon as he got his hands on the lamp's surface, and found himself inside the extradimensional interior, where he grabbed up his bastard sword and potion belt, plus _Sjondra_ for Alewyth and Wakuren's magic shield, both of which he knew their owners would find handy to have on hand.

Alewyth was stepping forward to see what she could do to help when the administrator's door slammed open.  "What's going on out here?" the elf demanded, hearing a ruckus in the jail he insisted upon keeping on an even keel.  He saw Wakuren make a few gestures with his hands and suddenly there was a greataxe floating in the air above the sheet phantom, which flew down at the undead thing and cut it into two pieces.  Ripped nearly in half by the power of the _spiritual weapon_, the sheet fell limply to the floor.

"It rose up out of the latrine hole in the holding cell!" the panicked guard replied in answer to his boss's question.  "Flew right at me from between the bars!"

Thurloe popped his head around the doorway and saw the angry administrator glaring at the guards for allowing this calamity to occur in his prison.  "Would you be all right with us bringing weapons into the prison now, sir?" he asked.

"Get out!" demanded Administrator Morbhen, fury turning his face red.  "I find it curious that we are attacked by this...undead thing during your visit!  Guards, I want them out of here at once!"

"Yessir!" the guards replied, and they made all haste getting the heroes their gear and taking them back outside the main gate, where their wagon and animals awaited them.  Once they were all outside the fenced area, the guards closed and locked the gate once again.

"Well, that was a bust," Zander commented.  "Now what?"

<That was at least a bit of excitement on this boring plane of yours,> piped up the nibish-riule living partially inside the elf's body, but Zander told him now was not the time for this discussion.

"Now," answered Wakuren, "we go right back in again, but we do it in a way that they won't even know we're there."  He outlined his plan to the others, who agreed it was their best bet to see for themselves what all was going on inside the prison, given they hadn't been allowed to see the prisoners for themselves.  For all they knew, there was a half-orc inmate asleep in his cell for the past few weeks, and Administrator Morbhen was lying to them about it...his aura certainly indicated the elf was evil, although part of Wakuren wondered if that was the sort of person who'd want to run herd over a group of killers in the first place.  Perhaps it came with the territory.

Part one of Wakuren's plan involved the other four heroes safely inside the lamp, ready to pop back out on his signal...which would have to be when he popped back inside the lamp and told them so directly, for they had no way to communicate between the dimensions.  But once they were all inside, Wakuren picked up the lamp, activated his ring (which turned him invisible, along with everything he was wearing and carrying).  Then he cast a _gaseous form_ spell upon himself and became a cloud of vapors, which was still covered by the _invisibility_ effect of his ring.  As silent as a cloud, Wakuren forced his vaporous form over the prison wall and along the right side, fully expecting to see some barred windows leading into the cell block.

And in that Wakuren was not mistaken.  Drifting up to the windows, the half-orc was surprised to see the 15 or so inmates - a quick count showed 18 different cells, of which only a few were unmanned - were thrashing about on their bunks or yanking on the bars of the cells, trying to free themselves.  But it was obvious to the half-orc that none of the inmates were still alive; their pale, pasty skin and yellowing eyes gave that initial impression and the fact that none of them was breathing sealed the deal.  And even though the half-orc's body was currently an invisible mass of cloudy vapors, he could still pick up the scent of death, commingled with the unmistakable odor of ghoul stench.  Somehow, the prisoners had all been turned into either ghouls or ghasts.

One cell in the southeast corner contained an unmoving corpse who - unlike the ghouls, who wore prisoner garb - was dressed in the uniform of one of the prison's guards.  He lay on his back, eyes bulging out in frozen terror, with a mass of stringy webbing hanging on his face and clothes.  If this had been the work of some giant spider, Wakuren couldn't see any other evidence of the arachnid's presence.

Flowing underneath the iron door, Wakuren entered the mess hall, where the four guards had taken their card game back up.  Wakuren spotted the administrator's door and studiously ignored it, wanting instead to check out what was behind the other two doors in the corner of the mess hall.  The door to the south led to a 30-foot-by-30-foot open chamber with 12-foot-tall walls but no ceiling.  A large circle had been painted on the stone floor and at first Wakuren assumed this was some sort of magic circle, but closer inspection revealed no runes or glyphs along the circle's circumference; this was likely nothing more than an exercise yard, where the prisoners could be marched around in a circle for some fresh air and exercise - neither of which was of any benefit to a ghoul.  Wakuren seeped back into the mess hall and drifted over to the other door, squeezing his vaporous body underneath its bottom edge and into an unlit hallway with stairs leading down into darkness.

Fortunately, darkness posed no hardship for a half-orc, even one currently under the effects of a _gaseous form_ spell.  Wakuren spilled down the stairs, which ended in a T-intersection veering off a short distance to the east and west.  Each ended in a solid door.  Choosing the west door at random, Wakuren oozed under it and saw a circular chamber just beyond, with a circular pit in its center that dropped down a good 20 feet.  Standing at the bottom of this pit was another ghoul or ghast, this one with runes covering his arms and chest.  He was studiously scratching his ragged fingernails - claws, really - in the side of the stone pit, working on carving away grooves deep enough to allow him to climb out of the pit.  But Wakuren could tell he had a long way to go still and thus ignored the spell-stitched ghast for now, realizing he posed no immediate threat and wouldn't for some time.  Instead, he backed out under the door and checked out the door to the east.  He wasn't the least bit surprised to find it a mirror image of the other chamber, with an equally deep pit of the same dimensions.  Wakuren was likewise not that surprised to find a half-orc lying motionlessly at the bottom of the pit; it seemed Administrator Morbhen had indeed been lying about the half-orc prisoner having been slain and his body taken away - this, no doubt, was the dreamer for which they had been looking.

Wakuren drifted over to the side of the pit's top edge and deactivated the _gaseous form_ spell, returning to a more physical form.  Then he likewise deactivated his invisibility, so that when he set down the lamp and entered its extradimensional space to brief his friends on his findings, they'd be able to see it was him.

Xandro Silverstrings exited the lamp and went to work on the door with his lockpicks; in assuming solid form Wakuren had committed them all to having to find another way out of the prison, for he had no second _gaseous form_ spell prepared.  Fortunately, they could still have one person walk out of the place invisibly, carrying the lamp in which the others all hid, but they'd have to do so on foot - and Xandro would need to work his magic on the locked doors.  While the bard got the door open, the others used the _rope of climbing_ to have Thurloe go down to the bottom of the pit and fetch the sleeping half-orc, tying one end of the rope around his chest so the others could drag him back up.  They opted to bring him into the extradimensional space inside the magic lamp and leave him there - after all, they could perform the dreamwalking ritual at any time; right now it was more important finding a way back out of the prison and putting a stop to whatever plan Administrator Morbhen had hatched that required over a dozen criminal ghouls and ghasts.

"You're our quietest guy," Wakuren told Xandro, taking off his _ring of invisibility_ and handing it over.  As an added bonus, Thurloe also passed over the ring they'd received from Mrs. Picklemeyer back in Snail Valley, which allowed the bard to cast a _silence_ spell centered on himself.  "That ought to help with any squeaky doors," the spellsword advised, before returning to the lamp's interior with Alewyth, Wakuren, and Zander.

"Here goes nothing," said Xandro, picking up the lamp and activating both rings.  Now both invisible and inaudible, he picked up the _everburning torch_ Zander had left on the floor for him, which allowed him to see what he was doing as he climbed back up the stairs and when picking the lock to the door leading back into the mess hall.  Once he felt the lock unlatch, he packed away his gear, put the _everburning torch_ into his backpack, picked up the lamp, and then reactivated the _ring of invisibility_ (as he'd deactivated it so he could see what he was doing when picking the door's lock).  Then, fully invisible and inaudible once again - and with no illumination spilling out from an unseen source - he opened the door just enough to step out into the room.

The four guards were engrossed in their card game, as the bard had hoped would be the case.  He shut the door to the lower level - leading to what he assumed were solitary confinement pits - without drawing their attention, and the bard allowed himself to let out an inaudible "Whew!" of relief.  But his silent celebration was premature, for although the guards had paid no attention to the door opening and closing on its own, the action had been observed by the invisible quasit in centipede form - Administrator Morbhen's familiar - perched in the southwestern corner of the mess hall where he could observe the whole room (and make sure the _charm person_ spells his master had cast upon the human guards showed no signs of wearing off).  Instinctively, the quasit used its inherent ability to _detect good_ and got a "ping" in an area right in front of the door leading to the lower level.  He immediately upchanneled this information telepathically to his master, and within seconds Administrator Morbhen had dashed out of his office and was staring more or less in Xandro's direction, demanding, "Who's there?"

Xandro was spooked and instinctively made a dash for it, silently voicing the command word "eintret" and teleporting into the lamp's interior.  (Fortunately, the _silence_ spell, although preventing his utterance from being heard, still allowed the command word to take effect; apparently the lamp accepted the command word mentally as well as verbally, so long as the lamp was in physical contact with the person saying the word.)  Of course, Xandro entering the lamp meant he was no longer holding onto it, so it became visible at the same time it crashed to the floor of the prison's mess hall.

"Guys!" Xandro called to the others once he'd removed Thurloe's _ring of silent spells_ so they could hear him.  "The jig's up!"

Zander called "On it!" and stepped upon the disk in the middle of the floor of the central hemisphere of the lamp's extradimensional interior, calling out "Aussteig!" and disappearing from view.  He ended up next to the lamp, as usual, but it was now in the hands of Administrator Morbhen, who had bent over to pick it up and was looking at it curiously.  _Well, that's no good,_ the elf thought to himself, for he'd planned on grappling with the Administrator and teleporting with him back into the lamp where they could take him with five-to-one odds.  He lunged at the evil elf but Morbhen wrested free from the sorcerer's grasp - but not before recognizing Zander as one of the five visitors from earlier that day.  Zander touched the lamp, said the command word (hopefully in a low enough voice that he wasn't overheard by any of the others), and returned to the interior to report his failed plan to the others.  "Yeah, I'm not so on it after all," he admitted.

<That person you grabbed had ears like yours,> the nibish-riule observed telepathically to its host.  <Was that some sort of mating ritual?>

"Not now!" Zander shooshed him.

"Now what do we do?" asked Alewyth.

"We'd better get out there," Wakuren said, stepping onto the disk.

"Not so fast!" Thurloe replied, putting a restraining hand upon the half-orc's shoulder.  "If we're going out there, we'd better be ready for a fight!"  The spellsword began casting a _mage armor_ spell upon himself, following it up with a _shield_ spell from his wand.  Zander cast a _mage armor_ spell upon himself and a _haste_ spell upon the assembled group, while Alewyth went with her traditional _bless_ and _magic circle against evil_ spells, the former on everyone and the latter centered upon herself.  Xandro pulled out his _Dardolian lute_ and started his song of inspirational courage, while Wakuren came up with another of his spur-of-the-moment plans.

"Everyone back off the disk!" he called, and they stepped back to give him room.  The half-orc then cast a summoning spell that brought a celestial bison across the planes and onto the metal disk; the shaggy beast took up most of the space on the platform.  He then placed the _ring of invisibility_ back on his finger, activated it, stepped onto the disk, and called out "Aussteig!" - and he and the bison were gone.

As usual, they re-entered the Material Plane adjacent to the magic lamp, but a few things had changed during the time the heroes had remained inside the lamp, making plans and casting "getting-ready-for-combat" spells upon themselves.  For one thing, the lamp had been placed upon one of the mess hall tables - and one that couldn't handle the sudden weight of a full-grown celestial bison.  The legs gave out and the tabletop crashed to the ground.  Wakuren materialized on one of the benches, which survived the sudden addition of his weight just fine.  But the other change had a greater impact: Administrator Morbhen, recognizing the intruders as the earlier visitors and deducing they were here to stop his plans, decided he should implement them immediately while he still could.  As a result, he was now over by the iron door to the cell block, which was wide open, and he'd activated the master switch which unlocked all of the cell doors at once.  Already, gibbering ghouls and ghasts were spilling out of the doorway.  "Slay everyone but me in the building!" Morbhen called, knowing the guards - mere humans, after all - had always been an expendable part of his plan.

With a snort, the celestial bison charged forward, horns lowered to smite the evil Administrator Morbhen.  Wakuren, nothing more than an invisible voice at this point to the guards (who, as an unseen consequence of Morbhen's orders to his undead forces, were snapping out of the _charm person_ spells they'd been under), called out "Touch the lamp and say 'eintret!'"  The startled guards needed no further prompting, and the metal platform inside the lamp suddenly became very crowded, for the other four heroes had stepped into place, ready to exit the lamp themselves.  "Go!  Get off the disk!" Thurloe yelled at them, and then told one of them to give him the key to open the door to the front rooms of the prison.  The guard hurriedly complied, asking no questions.   Thurloe then called out "Aussteig!" and just like that, the heroes were gone.

"Where the Hell are we?" one guard asked the others.  "What's going on?"  But none of them had any real clue.

When the other heroes suddenly teleported around the lamp, the mess hall was already a place of chaos.  Three ghouls were attacking the celestial bison, who swatted at them with its massive horns.  Xandro continued playing his lute, but stepped off to the side, out of the way, giving himself some distance from the undead monstrosities that had once been prison inmates.  Zander cast a _summon swarm_ spell and suddenly there were hundreds, perhaps thousands of spiders crawling over Administrator Morbhen and a few of the nearby ghouls; the elf sorcerer noted with a bit of disappointment the spiders didn't seem to want anything to do with the undead flesh of the foul-smelling creatures and abandoned them almost immediately.  But Administrator Morbhen likewise didn't appreciate being covered in hungry spiders and cast a _dimension door_ spell that landed him in the relative safety of a hallway in the cell block.  The dead body of the web-covered guard shambled by him; unbeknownst to the Administrator, there had been two sheet phantoms created by dying prisoners, and while one of them had hidden in the sewers connecting the various prison toilets the other had slain a guard, whose body had been stuffed into an unused cell for the time being.  But the sheet phantom and the slain corpse had merged, resulting in a sheet ghoul; Morbhen had failed to notice any of this since neither he nor any of the living guards had been in the cell block for over a week before today.  That had been the plan, after all: after _charming_ the entire prison staff, he'd slain an inmate, carved him up, and presented it to the cook as ham to be used for the prisoners' next meal.  Once they'd each been coaxed into unknowing cannibalism, they'd then been locked into their cells and starved to death, for Morbhen - an inspiring necromancer with a burning hatred for the human race that had first showed up on Armaturia's shores two thousand years earlier and who had in those two millennia driven the elves from their lands and proclaimed one of their own race as Emperor of the entire continent - well knew that those who had eaten the flesh of their own race (or possibly the flesh of any intelligent race; details differed in the necromantic texts he'd studied) would rise as ghouls and ghasts upon their deaths.  Once the whole inmate population had succumbed to undeath, he'd unleash them - led by the spellstitched ghast he had created downstairs - upon the unsuspecting populace of Portersville, confident that when the undead had taken out the humans, the elves would be able to take out the ghouls and ghasts in turn, with the end result a purging of the hated humans in at least one of the many human villages.  And Portersville was merely a test case; if this worked as planned the concept could be replicated in other villages, and even in the bigger cities.  Administrator Morbhen dreamed of a day when the hated humans would be extinguished from the land, in much the same way the gnome population had all but died out when the humans were first making their appearances on the continent.

Alewyth stepped forward, channeling positive energy through her holy symbol of Aerik, which blasted two of the ghouls directly before her into nothingness and caused a ghast just coming through the doorway from the cellblock to turn around and flee in terror.  Thurloe grabbed up the lamp and made a bee-line for the kitchen, where the cook was hiding behind his serving line.  "Quick!  Over here!" Thurloe called to him.  "Touch the lamp and say 'eintrat' if you want to make it out of here alive!"  The cook wasted no time doing as the spellsword said and soon found himself inside the lamp, surrounded by four prison guards.

Wakuren followed Alewyth's lead and channeled a blast of positive energy through his own upraised holy symbol of Cal.  He wasn't as powerful a cleric as the dwarven priestess, but he managed to turn three ghasts, sending them fleeing.  Then, upon his orders, the celestial bison stamped on a bunch of spiders while moving over to place his shaggy body to block the doorway to the cell block, making it more difficult for any more of the undead to enter the mess hall.  The ghouls advanced, clawing at the horned beast with the glowing horns.

Xandro continued playing his inspirational song, hoping to buoy his friends' combat abilities with the power of his magical tune.  But then the celestial bison froze up, paralyzed by the claws of a ghast trying to scratch its way out into the mess hall.  The bison could no longer attack but at least it had a solid, four-footed stance and didn't fall over or anything as a result of his paralyzation; in this manner he was at least serving as some sort of impediment against the approaching undead.

Zander moved into position such that he could see Administrator Morbhen from between the bison's legs.  A look was all it took to lock on a _magic missile_ spell and send a quartet of glowing bolts of energy streaking through the open doorway to hit the enemy elf.  Morbhen snarled and cast a protective spell on himself, still brushing off the occasional spider from the swarm Zander had summoned earlier, but which were now spreading out - some of them heading over toward Wakuren.

"We ought to go back out there and help," said one of the guards, feeling a bit guilty over hiding inside the magic lamp in safety while the strangers fought off these ghouls who had somehow made it into the prison.  "Anybody remember what word the sword guy said to go back out?"  One of the other guards recalled the word "Aussteig" and just that quickly they were back in the kitchen with Thurloe.  The cook, not surprisingly, decided he was just fine with staying inside where it was safe.

Administrator Morbhen cast a _false life_ spell upon himself to boost his combat capabilities.  As about the same time, his familiar popped back into visibility when it struck out at Wakuren, clawing and biting at him with a ferocity that outpaced his small form.  Alewyth sent another blast of positive energy through the doorway, causing more ghasts to flee; they were too tough for her to be able to cause their undead bodies to explode into dust, but she'd take forcing them away from combat as a win.

Thurloe had by this time run over to the front door and unlocked it with one of the keys on the ring the guard had given him.  "Out!" he indicated to the guards.  "We've got this!"  The guards looked back at the combat, saw the fleeing ghasts and the celestial bison who had been summoned out of thin air, and apparently saw the wisdom of the spellsword's statement.  As one, they headed for the door, where they met up with the two guards in the front station, surprised to hear all the ruckus with the door wide open.

The celestial bison was now as much an impediment to the heroes as it was to the undead so Wakuren dismissed it from service and it shifted back to its home plane as the half-orc dodged the quasit's attacks and stepped away from it.  Almost immediately, the cleric-paladin of Cal summoned an air element hippogriff in its place, giving it orders to keep the turned ghasts at bay.  Then the half-orc stepped through the door, entering the cell block and looking to put an end to Administrator Morbhen.  Xandro raced forward, setting aside his lute for his magic longsword and swinging it at the flying quasit, catching the little fiend in the side with his blade.  At the same time Zander targeted the demon familiar with a _lightning bolt_ spell, but that happened to have been one of the weakest castings in the elven sorcerer's adventuring career, for there seemed to be very little electrical energy behind it.  The quasit survived both attacks, but it seemed to be on its last legs.

Alewyth turned undead for the third time that day and sent another group of ghasts fleeing.  By this time, most of the spiders from the summoned swarm had all just about gone their own separate ways as well, making them hardly a nuisance.  The way clear, Thurloe raced back to the cell block and entered, finding himself behind Wakuren, who was facing down the sheet ghoul; behind that strange creature stood Administrator Morbhen.  Wakuren slammed his shield down upon the sheet ghoul, who belched forth a stream of caustic acid in turn, burning the half-orc's face and giving him an even fiercer appearance than normal.

Xandro pierced the quasit through the belly and watched as it died on his blade.  Zander then focused his attention back on Morbhen, hitting him with another _magic missile_ spell.  The elven necromancer retaliated with a _cloudkill_ spell, sending a billowing cloud of choking vapors to encompass the sheet ghoul, Wakuren, Thurloe, and Zander in turn.  Being a walking corpse, the spell had no effect upon the sheet ghoul, but all three of the living targets began coughing and retching as the vapors took their toll on their bodies.

But Alewyth was out of range of the spell thus far and was able to toss a _holy smite_ spell through the open doorway such that she could pretty much guarantee Morbhen would be within its area of effect, even if he was currently obscured by the _cloudkill_ spell.  The spell's holy energy took a toll on the elven necromancer and dealt a fair amount of damage to the sheet ghoul as an added benefit.  Thurloe was able to step past Wakuren and slay the sheet ghoul with a single blow of his bastard sword.  And then Wakuren brought his shield down - hard - upon the necromancer's head, breaking past the _stoneskin_ spell he'd cast upon himself for protection and still crushing the elf's skull with the power of his blow.

After that, it was a fairly simple matter to pick off the remaining ghouls and ghasts one by one, as most of them were still trying to flee from the clerics' holy energies in a room with no other exits.  By then, the guards had made it outside the prison's gates and assuaged their guilt a little by setting themselves up as a reserve force, ready to attack any undead monstrosities that might make it out this far.  But there were no undead remaining in their freakish semblance of life by the time the heroes met back up with the guards, after Wakuren popped back inside the lamp to tell the cook it was safe to come out now.  "We'll leave the cleanup and the explanations for you," Thurloe told the guards, handing the one back his ring of keys.  "Bottom line, your boss was an evil wizard who turned the inmates into ghouls and was planning on sending them against the citizens of your village.  You're welcome."

The guards, fortunately, retained their memories now that the _charm person_ spells had been broken and were able to recall what all Administrator Morbhen had done.  They had no trouble allowing the heroes to remount their animals and drive their wagon out of Portersville.

"What about the half-orc prisoner still trapped in his dreams?" asked Alewyth.  "We should try to wake him up."

"That can wait," replied Thurloe.  "I want to put some miles between us and this town in case they get it into their heads that we need to be brought in for questioning or anything."  But an hour down the road he deemed it safe enough, so Wakuren brought the mule-driven wagon to a halt and everyone tied up their mounts to a bunch of trees on a side road that looked like it didn't see a whole lot of traffic.  Then they reconvened inside the lamp, where they placed a dreamstone headband upon the half-orc and sat in the customary circle around him, each dreamwalker wearing his or her own leather headband.

"Ready to wake this one up, kupo?" Mogo asked as he once again opened the door to the half-orc's dream, this time with the expectation his five students would be able to put an end to the dream running on a seemingly endless loop.  However, perhaps because of the presence of the dreamstones, this time they got to see the dream in its entirety.  It began with the half-orc, staggering down the street in a half-drunken stupor, shake himself to a state of semi-sobriety at the sound of a woman's scream.  Looking over to his left, he saw a roguish young man dragging a wealthy-looking woman into an alleyway, no doubt with intentions to rob her of her riches - or perhaps even to do something even worse.  "Hey," slurred the half-orc.  "Hey!"  He followed the two deeper into the alley, where the man had a short sword aimed at the woman's stomach as she fearfully removed her necklace and rings.  The man spun at the half-orc's approach, stabbing the woman in the stomach in the process.  She fell to the ground of the filthy alleyway, a pool of blood spreading slowly from where she lay.  The thief whirled on the half-orc, who put up a defense that cost him a slice on his raised left forearm.  But then he got his right hand over the thief's and the two struggled to gain control of the blade.  They wrestled back and forth, and eventually the tip of the blade found its way in the thief's own belly as the half-orc grabbed it from his grasp.  "You okay, lady?" he asked, staggering over to the woman's now-cooling corpse, which lay where it had fallen.  But there were cries over from the street and the half-orc turned to face them: it was a trio of guardsmen racing at the half-orc, who stood over the bodies of two humans with the bloody blade that had killed them in his hand.

"This is where we came in last time," Thurloe said as he stepped in front of the half-orc and used the blade of his bastard sword to parry the first strike of the closest town guardsman.

"He's innocent!" Wakuren called to the security forces, blocking the second guard's blade-strike with his shield.  But Thurloe shook his head at the half-orc's naïve insistence of trying to get others to see reason.  "This is just a dream, remember!" he said, sending his blade stabbing directly through the heart of the guardsman he was fighting.  "We're not hurting any real people," he said as he lopped the head off the third guardsman, who had stepped up to take the place of the first one Thurloe had slain.

"Good point," said Alewyth, bringing _Sjondra_ crashing down to crush the skull of the last remaining guardsman.  As he fell to the ground, quite obviously dead, the drunken half-orc blinked in surprise at this sudden turn of events and then looked in puzzlement as the walls of the alleyway started dripping away like spilled paint.

"He's waking up," Xandro pointed out.  "We'd best do the same."

Six figures came to full wakefulness at about the same time, inside the extradimensional space of the night hag's lamp.  "Are you all right?" asked Alewyth.

"Think so," said the half-orc, looking around in confusion at his surroundings.

"Do you have any family in Portersville?" asked Wakuren.

"Family?  No, I got no family."

"What's your name?"

"*Scarlie Besker*."

"Well, Scarlie, considering you were sent to prison for a crime you didn't commit and we more or less broke you out of Bleakstone Prison, do you have any objections to traveling with us for a bit?  We can pay you to take care of our mounts and draft animals, if you're of a mind."

"That sounds great to me," replied Scarlie.  "Say, I don't suppose any of you has anything to drink...?"

 - - -

And with that, the PCs hired their first full-time NPC hireling in this campaign, which I surprisingly did not see coming as I had tried setting them up with someone (Jingo Pebblebrain) who could take care of their horses, mules, and dire goat while they were off adventuring and they didn't want any part of it.  But after this adventure was over I did up some quick stats for Scarlie Besker and found an image I liked so I could build him an initiative card, so now should he ever get involved in any of their adventures he's all set to go.

 - - -

T-shirt worn: My white "Walking Dead" T-shirt, since that's what Administrator Morbhen was creating out of his prisoner charges.


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## Richards (Aug 14, 2022)

*ADVENTURE 33: BIRTH DAY MASSACRE*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 7​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 3/spellsword 1​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 3/paladin 4​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 5/rogue 2​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 7​
Game Session Date: 7 August 2022

 - - -

"This is getting ridiculous," griped Xandro dejectedly.  "Surely _somebody's_ gotta know where there's someone who's been asleep for a long time and can't be awakened normally!"  Since arriving in the village of Basutra, they'd been hitting the normal places - taverns, inns, the constabulary, temples - but they'd had no luck in tracking down the person who Mogo insisted was somewhere in town.

"Maybe we're going about this the wrong way," suggested Alewyth.  "We ought to go back to the constabulary and see if there have been any missing person cases recently - maybe the dreamer is somewhere nobody's found them."  It was as good an idea as any, but it too bore no fruit.

"Let's go check back in with Mogo," Wakuren decided.  "Maybe he can help us fine-tune the location."  And thus Scarlie Besker, the half-orc recently hired to look after the group's wagon and associated mounts while they were off adventuring, once again found himself performing one of the stranger functions of his new job: watching over an oil lamp that had been left in the back of the wagon, while one by one his bosses disappeared into it.  But once inside the extradimensional space of the lamp, the five dreamwalkers prepared themselves for a mid-day nap, slowing their breathing and turning off all thoughts, allowing sleep to overtake them.  One by one, they left their physical bodies and emerged in the Dreamlands, where they were met by their individual moogle guides and ushered over to where Mogo had set up camp in the Hall of Dreams, a series of seemingly endless corridors filled with side-by-side doors as far as the eye could see, each door the access point to an individual dream.

"Any way you can get us any closer to where this next dreamer's supposed to be?" Thurloe asked the humanoid kitten with the bat wings and the pom-pom dangling from a forehead antenna.

"In the town of Basutra, kupo!" Mogo repeated, surprised they hadn't been able to find the dreamer yet.  After all, Basutra wasn't that big of a town, as far as human dwelling-places went.

"Let's take a look at the dream - maybe it'll give us a clue or something," suggested Zander Quilson.

"Okay, but I think Xandro's going to be a little embarrassed by this one, kupo!" Mogo replied, opening the door to the dream and fluttering back out of the way.

"What do you mean?" asked the bard.

"You'll see, kupo!"

Frowning in puzzlement, Xandro stepped into the dream and found a trio of humans standing all in a line: a teenaged boy flanked by a blond girl on one side and an older, dark-haired lady on the other.  The blonde tugged on the boy's arm and said coquettishly, "Come on, Henry!  We can use the barn - nobody will see us!"

"Don't waste your time with that one," answered the 30-year-old woman, tugging on Henry's other arm with equal vigor.  "She's just a child - she can't possibly love you the way I do!"

"Like Hell I can't!" spat the blond girl, slipping her blouse up and over her head and rubbing up against Henry.  "We can do anything you like," she purred, and Henry had a hard time taking his eyes off her.

But then the older woman turned Henry's head her way with her hand, revealing that her top had also disappeared.  "She's just so...inexperienced," she told the young man.  "Whereas I can teach you pleasures you've never before imagined."

"Don't be an idiot!" Thurloe yelled at the lad.  "See if they'll both go to the barn with you!"

"You're the one being an idiot!" scowled Alewyth, swatting the spellsword on the chest in irritation with the back of her hand.  "On the one hand, ew!  And on the other, we can't interact with the dream since we're not there physically with the dreamer in the Mortal World."

"I'm just trying to help him make the obviously correct choice," Thurloe observed, gaining him another scowl from the dwarven priestess.  Then he looked over at Xandro, who had averted his gaze from the trio in embarrassment, as the two young women were now apparently in a race to show their devotion to Henry by proving which one could strip the fastest.  "Go ahead and look," Thurloe teased the bard.  "You might learn something."

"Well, we've learned nothing about the dreamer's location," observed Wakuren.  "But at least we know we're looking for a young human lad named Henry."

"Do we, though?" asked Alewyth.  "Either of the girls could be the dreamer."

"Hmm, true enough," conceded the half-orc.  "Okay, I think we've seen enough."

"Hey, speak for yourself!" argued Thurloe, who was willing to give this particular dream a lot more of his attention - all day and night, if it came to that.  But Alewyth had opened the door back up and was talking to Mogo.  "Can you track the dreamer any closer than 'somewhere in Basutra?'" she asked.

"Well, if one of you wants to stay asleep, I can triangulate between this dream and that of the dreamwalker, kupo," suggested Mogo.  Wakuren instantly volunteered and the others woke themselves back up, then exited the magic lamp, startling Scarlie, who never had any idea when they were just going to pop back into existence like that.  If not for the fact he hadn't had any alcohol that day (it was still only mid-morning), he'd have assumed he'd had too much to drink and was seeing things.

"Can you hear me, kupo?" asked Mogo, this time the voice coming from Alewyth's enchanted dwarven warhammer, _Sjondra_.  The moogles had recently devised a means by which they could communicate with the dreamwalkers through the dreamstones embedded in the signature items they each carried.

"Loud and clear," Alewyth replied.

"You need to go further north from your present location, kupo!"  The others climbed onto the saddles of their respective riding mounts and indicated for Scarlie to follow them.  Once again thinking how oddly his life had changed since meeting up with these new bosses, the half-orc climbed back into the seat of the wagon and gave the mules a snap of the reins to get them going.

After a few more course corrections, Mogo eventually declared he couldn't get them any closer than he already had.  "It's not that easy tracking you guys from an entirely different plane of existence, kupo!" he declared.  "But the dreamer's somewhere close by, kupo!"

"I'll wake up now," Wakuren told the others through _Sjondra_'s dreamstones.  "Be out in a bit."  And sure enough, in half a minute or so the half-orc had reappeared in the seat beside Scarlie, scaring his fellow half-orc half out of his wits.  "I need a drink," Scarlie muttered to himself.

"So, where are we?" Wakuren asked the others, having missed out on the traveling through the town the others had experienced while he slept.

"Fancy part of town," Thurloe replied.  "Where the noblemen all have their fancy houses."  Their little caravan had ended up at a stone-and-wooden manor house, shaped rather like a squashed "H" when viewed from the top, with the southern wing being two full stories tall and the rest of the house just the one.  Across the way stood a carriage house and stables.  A few steps onto a front landing in the center of the manor house led to a set of double doors, upon which had been carved the Vesperman family crest: a flying wasp about to sting.  "How do we want to do this?"

"What do you mean?" asked Zander.

"I mean," Thurloe explained, "if the dreamer's in there, there's gotta be a reason nobody's reported it.  Remember, nobody's been to the temples asking the clerics to awaken anybody they can't wake up themselves.  That means there's a reason for keeping it secret."

"Simple embarrassment?" guessed Xandro.  "Nobody wanting to admit a member of a noble family could have that sort of thing happen to them?"

"Possibly," admitted Alewyth.  "But maybe Wakuren and I should go talk to them.  People open up to clerics."

"Fine.  We'll stay back here with the animals," Thurloe replied.  "I'm sure the human nobility will open right up to a half-orc."  It was no skin off his nose, in any case; let the clerics do all the explaining.  Alewyth and Wakuren walked up the steps and the priestess knocked loudly on the door.  They'd both assumed the doors would be opened by a butler or maid and were surprised when it was instead a pair of armed and armored dwarves who answered.

"Whadda you want, orc?" spat one of them while the other got a good look at Alewyth and spoke with a much more cultured tone.  "Why good day to you, Miss," he said.  "And how may I help you?"  The one who'd snarled at Wakuren noticed the dwarven priestess and all thoughts of him were immediately forgotten; the half-orc might have been invisible for all they paid any attention to him (although he had not, in fact, activated his ring).

Realizing their interest in her, Alewyth played it up, giving them her best smile and batting her eyes as she explained why they had come, painting the dream sickness in broad strokes and emphasizing it had struck many people across the continent from all different walks of life.  "We're not sure why the Nightmare King is doing this," she added, "but I'm sure a pair of strong warriors like yourselves can see the obvious advantage of defeating an enemy's plans."

"Oh, absolutely," agreed one of the dwarves.  "But why here, specifically?  There's nobody here been sleeping any longer than normal."

"Are you sure?" Alewyth prompted.

"Positive," the other dwarf added.  "So I'm afraid we can't help you...but you know, we get off shift at twilight.  If you wanted to swing by then, we could show you a real good time."

The priestess of Aerik, God of Protection, swallowed any outrage and ignored the suggestion, pressing on with her original goal.  "Well," she said, "would it be possible for us to see your Lord?  I assume a pair of good-looking, fighting dwarves like you must be his bodyguards, am I right?"

"His personal retinue," bragged the first dwarf.  "But Lord Vesperman is expecting company and probably wouldn't want to be disturbed."

"Would you mind checking?  For me?"  Alewyth battered her eyelashes something fierce, and while it had the desired effect - one of the dwarves sent a human maid to see if he'd take a visit by a priestess of Aerik looking for a trapped sleeper - the end result was not what she had hoped for.  "Forgive me, Miss," said the maid, curtsying, "but the Lord is not taking visitors at this time."

"Sorry," replied one of the dwarves.  "Remember, though: twilight."  And he gave Alewyth a wink no doubt meant to make her weak in the knees as he closed the door in the clerics' faces.  Instead, it made her want to spit.  "Conceited, strutting rooster!" she snarled.  But as she and Wakuren started making their way back to the wagon, Thurloe, still astride his horse Horse, heard a whisper coming from the back of the house.  "Pssst!" signaled another maid, waving for the spellsword to come over to talk to her.  Curious, Thurloe led Horse her way without bothering to dismount.

"What's up?" he asked her once Horse got to the back corner of the house.

"*Mrs. Wiggins*, the head housekeeper, wishes to speak with your group!" the maid said in a low voice, looking back behind her as if fearing to be found out.  "She thinks she can help you find your dreamer!"  Thurloe dismounted from his horse and motioned for the others to join him, leaving Scarlie to come fetch Horse's bridle and lead him back to the wagon with the other mounts.

The maid led the group into the back of the manor house, signaling for silence as she opened the door to the kitchen and from there through an adjoining door leading to a laundry room.  They were met by an elderly woman, probably close to 60 summers if she hadn't already passed that age, who introduced herself as Mrs. Wiggins.  "I think you might be looking for *Lady Angelica*," she said without preamble.  "We'll sneak you upstairs to see her when *Lord Andrus* is busy with his business partner, who should be arriving any minute now.  We'll wait here until they retire to the brandy room; while it's possible Lord Andrus might step into the kitchen to talk to one of the maids, there's no chance he'll come back here to the laundry room.  We can talk, if we keep our voices down."

"What makes you think Lady Angelica is the dreamer?" asked Alewyth.  "Has she been asleep for an unusually long time?"

"That's just the thing: none of us knows," Mrs. Wiggins replied.  "Lord Andrus has forbidden any of us to see her for the past week or more.  He takes all of her meals up to her, and we've not even been allowed to fetch her linen or bedclothes.  She's with child, their first," she explained.

"How far along?" Alewyth asked.

"Eight and a half months.  And she was right as rain up until we were no longer allowed to tend to her, all excited at her new role as a mother.  She said she hoped it was a boy, because Lord Andrus wants a son, but all she wants is a healthy, happy baby, like any good mother."

"Why would her husband want to keep her status a secret?" asked Thurloe.  "It doesn't make a lot of sense."

"I quite agree.  The maids and I are quite worried about her, not having been able to tend to her as before."

"How would you describe Lord Andrus?" asked Wakuren.

"Very much an aristocrat," answered Mrs. Wiggins.  "He wants what he wants and won't take 'no' for an answer.  I wouldn't exactly say cruel, but determined.  And somewhat cold.  He spends much of his time traveling on his various business ventures, and when he's at home he spends a lot of time up in his arcane lab."  The housekeeper sour expression said she didn't feel a nobleman should be tinkering around with something like spellcraft.

"What's Mrs. Vesperman like?" Thurloe asked abruptly.

"_Lady Angelica_," Mrs. Wiggins emphasized, "is a very dutiful wife.  As I said, she's looking forward to being a mother, and--"

"No, no," interrupted the spellsword.  "I mean, what does she look like?"  Mrs. Wiggins went on to describe the lady of the manor, and Thurloe's face took on a smirk as the housekeeper described a dark-haired woman in her early thirties who could definitely have been one of the two women fighting over Henry in the dream.  "I think we've figured out whose dream it was," he told the others.  He didn't want to say anything out loud in front of the hired help, but it seemed Lady Angelica had been having a fling with this teenaged Henry person - and maybe Lord Andrus found out and was none too pleased.

"He's here!" whispered the maid, who had peeked through the door to the kitchen upon hearing a knocking at the front door.  They could hear Lord Andrus's footsteps coming down the stairs from above as he met his guest.  As anticipated, they went to the northern wing of the building, to the brandy room just off the dining hall.

"Now, we'll need to be quiet," Mrs. Wiggins advised, looking at Wakuren's metal armor and frowning.  "We don't want Lord Andrus hearing you clanking up the stairs."

"That won't be a problem," Wakuren promised, as Thurloe passed over his _ring of silent spells_ to the half-orc and then vanished into the oil lamp.  One by one, the others likewise entered the extradimensional space inside the lamp Wakuren held, leaving only him, Mrs. Wiggins, and the young maid.  Then he and the lamp vanished as well, when he activated his _ring of invisibility_.  "I'm still here," Wakuren's voice announced quietly, "but I'm going to activate another magic ring that will create a zone of silence all around me.  Nobody will be able to see me or hear me as I follow you up the stairs," he promised.  "And when we get to Lady Angelica, the others will exit the lamp and we'll see what we can do about waking her up."  Then he activated Thurloe's ring and, as promised, a zone of absolute silence surrounded the invisible cleric-paladin of Cal.

The maid went about her duties lest she be missed, while Mrs. Wiggins walked silently up the stairs to the second floor of the southern wing.  She walked past two doors on either side of the short hallway and headed for the door straight ahead, making as if to insert a key into the keyhole when Wakuren's invisible hand on her wrist suddenly stopped her; fortunately, her startled shriek was absorbed by the _silence_ spell in effect all around the half-orc.  But before he let Mrs. Wiggins open the locked door of the master bedroom, Wakuren cast a _detect magic_ spell and confirmed there were no magical wards upon the door.  Releasing the housekeeper's hand, he allowed her to open the door, then he looked inside.

There, on the four-poster bed at the back of the room, lay Lady Angelica in a white nightgown, her belly extended in late pregnancy.  Her eyes were closed and she rested peacefully.  Looking around the room with his still-active _detect magic_ spell, Wakuren noted a pair of dressers, a writing desk and chair, a makeup table with mirror, and doors presumably to a bathroom and a closet.  But there were also magical auras glowing in the half-orc's sight: a zone around the foot of the bed which he took to be the trigger area of an _alarm_ spell, as well as a three-dimensional sculpture of the Vesperman family crest, which Wakuren had no doubt would animate if triggered.  This put a few wrinkles on their plan, for there was no simple way to get to Lady Angelica without triggering the _alarm_ spell.  It didn't look like they'd be able to perform the ritual in the bedroom - there was no way to ensure Lord Andrus would be involved with his business discussion for the length of time it would take to perform the dream-waking ritual - and if they tried to get Lady Angelica into the extradimensional lamp they'd no doubt trigger the _alarm_ spell and activate the foot-long metal wasp from the Vesperman family crest sculpture.

So, it looked like the plan needed some finessing: he'd have to touch Lady Angelica, get her into the lamp with him, then pop back out, grab up the lamp, and cast a _gaseous form_ spell upon himself and the lamp and head back to the wagon.  Then they could put some distance between themselves and the Vesperman estate, performing the ritual from inside the lamp if need be.  With that thought in mind, Wakuren - still invisible - crossed the room and opened one of the windows on the far wall, giving himself an easy escape route once in cloud form.  However, there were several things Wakuren's hastily-modified plan had failed to take into account.  While he'd successfully deduced that was an _alarm_ spell trigger surrounding the bed, stepping into it would not activate the metal wasp from the family crest: it was a wasp construct (and, in fact, the familiar of Lord Andrus Vesperman), it was already aware there was someone in the room (having observed first the door open and then the window) and it had already mentally alerted its master via their shared empathic link, so Wakuren avoiding the area of the _alarm_ spell wasn't going to prevent anything from happening that wasn't already going on.

Wakuren was still in the middle of the magical _silence_ effect so he didn't hear the commotion downstairs as Lord Vesperman called for the dwarves to see his business partner back out the front door and then rushed up the stairs, but he did see the wasp construct animate and attack Mrs. Wiggins, the only visible person who wasn't supposed to be there.  It stabbed at her with its abdominal stinger, catching her in the side of the neck, causing her to scream aloud (which was also not heard by Wakuren).  But he summoned an air element hippogriff to keep the wasp construct at bay as he stepped forward (_alarm_ spell be damned!), placed the lamp under the bed where it hopefully wouldn't be noticed, put his foot upon it to keep in contact, and mentally activated the command word that whisked both him and Lady Angelica into the extradimensional space inside the lamp.

Once inside, Wakuren deactivated the effects of both rings and gave the other heroes a very brief update of what was going on outside.  He was not aware, however, that Lord Andrus was now pushing Mrs. Wiggins aside and stepping through the doorway to his bedroom, where he saw his familiar fighting it out against a hippogriff seemingly made of billowing clouds and an empty bed where his paralyzed wife should be.  Nor did the half-orc cleric-paladin know that while one dwarf was stomping up the stairs behind his master, the other one, having gotten rid of the visitor, had activated the pair of dread guards standing in the entry foyer and the three were also heading for the stairs.  Likewise, he didn't see Lord Andrus summon a creature of his own, a fiendish giant wasp, to help combat the air element hippogriff Wakuren had called forth to keep the wasp construct at bay.

But even had he been aware of all the commotion outside, the events inside the lamp would likewise have commanded all of his attention - as, indeed, was occurring right now.  Lady Angelica, having been placed gently on the floor of the lamp just off the landing platform (because once Wakuren said the command word that would send him back outside the lamp, anyone else on the platform would be coming along for the ride), was at first sleeping as gently as she had been on her own bed.  But then her eyes opened, she gave a shudder, and cried out in a closed-mouth gasp as her extended belly began undulating.  The clean, white nightgown she wore suddenly sprouted a red dot along her belly, which slowly expanded.  Her neck muscles taut, she gasped again in pain, trying to scream but hardly able to move.

Alewyth was beside the pregnant noblewoman in a moment.  "Just give her minimal healing," Thurloe suggested, not wanting the dwarven priestess to expend her most powerful spells if a _cure minor wounds_ spell would do.  Frowning in puzzlement at the odd request, Alewyth did as suggested but had one of her most powerful spells ready to be converted to a blast of healing energy if needed.  The _cure minor wounds_ seemed to stabilize Lady Angelica for a moment, but then the stain started spreading again and a bone-white, triangular head burst through the noblewoman's stomach and nightgown.  A massive grub burrowed out of the paralyzed woman's belly, streaked in her own blood.

Five involuntary cries of horror erupted from the heroes' throats at the sight of the giant larva crawling out of its warm-blooded host.  Zander fled the room, but it was merely to fetch the chest the night hag who had previously owned the magic lamp had kept; dragging it over to the main chamber, he opened its lid and pointed it in the direction of the massive maggot.  "Somebody throw it in!" he said, well aware that by being the one holding the magic chest _he_ wasn't going to be the one to have to touch the larval creature.

As the monster grub crawled completely out of Lady Angelica's body, exposing its full twelve inches of length, Alewyth cast a _cure serious wounds_ spell on the noblewoman's chewed-through body, closing up the hole the maggot had eaten open to make its escape from its unwitting host.  Thurloe decided he'd have to be the one to take the plunge, so he set aside his bastard sword, grabbed the slimy, wriggling thing up in his hands, and tossed it into the open chest.  As soon as its squishy body hit the chest's interior it started shrinking, until it was a mere one-eighth of its true size.  Zander wasted no time in slamming the lid shut and Xandro helped him latch it closed.

Shaken by what he'd seen and now wondering just what kind of arcane experimentation Lord Andrus had been performing on his wife, Wakuren realized time was of the essence and reactivated his _ring of invisibility_ before saying the word that shunted him back out into the master bedroom.  Ignoring the melee going on over on the other side of the bed, he bent over, picked up the lamp, and cast a _gaseous form_ spell upon himself before floating out the open window as fast as his nephomorphic body would take him.  Once outside, he floated over to the wagon before deactivating his spell and telling Scarlie to drive the wagon further away from the manor house.  The half-orc driver nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a disembodied voice giving him orders, but he quickly recognized the voice as belonging to the only other half-orc of their little group and complied.  Wakuren deactivated the _ring of invisibility_, ensured the lamp was secure in the back of the wagon, and said the word that sent him back inside with the others.

"What's going on out there?" demanded Thurloe.  Wakuren did his best to catch them all up to speed.  Soon after, the paralyzation that had kept Lady Angelica all but immobile wore off and she looked about her with frightened eyes.  "Where am I?" she demanded.  "Who are you?"  And then, looking down at her ripped and bloody nightgown, "_Where is my baby?_"  Alewyth did what she could to calm her down, explaining that they were good people (showing her the dwarf's holy symbol of Aerik helped there) seeking to save her from terrible danger, and - after explaining what she'd see when they opened the lid - did just that, to expose the shrunken, writhing grub to its erstwhile mother for a moment before snapping the lid back shut.

"I don't understand - why is this happening?" sobbed Lady Angelica, distraught at the thought she wouldn't be the mother of her husband's healthy, human son after all.

"Your husband has been subjecting you to some sort of magical experimentation," hazarded Wakuren, before coming to a sudden realization.  "And with you rescued and out of the picture--we've got to go back for Mrs. Wiggins and the maids!"  The elderly housekeeper was undoubtedly too old for a normal pregnancy, but if the wizardly nobleman was somehow injecting these grubs in people, she'd serve just as well as anyone else as an incubator....

"I'll tell Scarlie to go back," Wakuren told the others, before shunting back outside to the wagon and giving the poor drunkard another near heart attack.  In the meantime, Thurloe led the others in casting their get-ready-for-imminent-combat spells.  He cast a _mage armor_ spell upon himself and capped it off with a hit from his _wand of shield_, while Zander Quilson cast _mage armor_ on himself and _haste_ on the group (while realizing that this time Wakuren wouldn't receive the benefit of that second spell - oh well).  Alewyth cast a _bless_ spell on the group, shrugging that Wakuren would be missing out on that one as well.  Xandro, lacking anything else to do, took out his _Dardolian lute_ and began strumming its strings, beginning the words to his song of inspirational courage.  Then, as Alewyth promised Lady Angelica she'd be safe inside the lamp and tucking her into her own bed, Thurloe joined the two half-orcs outside by the wagon.

By this time, Scarlie had wheeled the wagon around and returned to the side of the Vesperman estate.  Thurloe had cooked up a plan and raced off to the back kitchen door, where he fished into his coin purse for a gold piece, which he then placed on the ground behind him but off to the side where it would hopefully catch the eye of anyone opening the door - he was counting on it being one of the dwarven bodyguards, and he was likewise counting on the tales of dwarven greed holding true.  In the meantime, Wakuren grabbed the lamp - inside which were still Alewyth, Xandro, and Zander, along with a distraught Lady Angelica - and started peeking through the ground floor windows along the southern wing.  He found the maids' room first, opening the window and letting himself in, which frightened three of them before the fourth recognized him and reassured the others he was an ally.  She explained to Wakuren they had been locked into their room by a furious Lord Andrus, and he in turn told them the command word to the lamp, holding it out so they could join Lady Angelica in a place of safety.  Once they were all inside, he crawled back out the window and continued his explorations until he found Mrs. Wiggins locked in her own room.  He did the same with her, getting her safely inside before returning to the maids' room - it was bigger and thus better for his purposes.  He popped back inside only long enough to fetch the other three heroes, and then set Xandro Silverstrings to picking the lock of the maids' room so they'd have access to the manor's interior, hopefully without Lord Andrus or his dwarven bodyguards being any the wiser.

Thurloe, however, was putting his own scheme into play.  Pounding on the back door to the kitchen, he waited until it opened and a scowling, bearded face appeared.  "'Scuse me, sir," Thurloe said in his best impression of an inebriated panhandler, "but would you have any change to spare for a man down on his luck?"  He staggered a bit to help sell the concept, and made sure to sway away from the gold piece so it would be in full view of the dwarf.  But the dwarf didn't take the bait; rather, he called out, "Beat it, bum!" and slammed the door in Thurloe's face.

The spellsword, realizing subterfuge wasn't going to cut it, kicked the door in as he pulled the bastard sword from its sheath on his back.  "And what if I don't?" he taunted the dwarf, who met Thurloe's blade with a dwarven waraxe of his own.  Just that quickly, there was a life-or-death combat going on in the Vesperman's massive kitchen area.  Thurloe got first blood, but the dwarf scowled it off and ignored the pain, swinging with his axe and slicing the side of Thurloe's arm while calling out the estate was under attack.  The second dwarf took a moment to activate the two dread guards once again before heading over to the threat in the kitchen.  The animated armor took up defensive stances in the foyer, ready to attack any strangers who might enter.  And up at the top of the stairs stood Lord Andrus, his wasp construct familiar hovering protectively before him.

Back in the maids' room, Xandro had made quick work of the lock and had stepped back, casting a _heroism_ spell on Wakuren.  Zander crawled out the window to go try his luck with Thurloe at the back door to the kitchen, while Wakuren and Alewyth crept down the central hallway of the south wing, headed for the door to the foyer.  Xandro followed, but took a side route through the laundry room, ending up in the kitchen where Thurloe and the first bodyguard were fighting it out, with the second dwarf about to enter the kitchen from the foyer.  Then things got even more interesting as a few more combatants entered the fray.  Zander cast a _scorching ray_ spell at the dwarf Thurloe was fighting, while Wakuren burst through the door to the foyer and summoned a celestial bison at the foot of the stairs.  Alewyth cast a _magic circle against evil_ spell upon herself and stepped into the foyer, _Sjondra_ at the ready.  The two dread guards turned to face the bison and attacked.  Now one of the dwarves was fighting a losing battle against Thurloe and Zander while the second turned to swipe at the massive, shaggy-furred bison through the door to the kitchen.

From the top of the stairs came the sound of spellcasting, and suddenly a swarm of angry wasps appeared in the foyer, stinging in a frenzy at the bison.  The wasp construct familiar took advantage of the attack to fly over the bison, getting itself lost in the swarm (although it was much larger than a normal wasp) long enough to enter the kitchen through the open doorway.  It hovered in the doorway to the dining area, observing the progress of the fight in the kitchen and passing along its findings to its master.  But the fight didn't last too much longer for the first dwarf, for Zander slew him with another _scorching ray_.  The second dwarf, seeing the futility of trying to fight a bison through a doorway from another room, decided to cast his fate fighting a threat to which he was more accustomed: namely, Thurloe and Zander, and now Xandro as well as the bard came in through the laundry room door, stepping behind Thurloe and continuing his inspirational song of courage on his lute.

The bison, protected from the worst of the wasp swarm's stings by its shaggy fur, spun in place and stabbed at the nearest dread guard with a massive horn, putting a visible dent in the animated armor.  Wakuren took the opportunity to squeeze past the bison's hindquarters, entering the wasp swarm for a moment as he did so, and make his way up the stairs to where Lord Andrus stood like a general overseeing the movements of his troops.  The half-orc silently vowed to bring the battle directly to this particular general.  Channeling positive energy through his body and into his shield, he slammed the wizard with a smiting attack, deciding to fight him on another front at the same time.  "We've got your grub trapped in a secure location," he taunted the nobleman.  "And your wife is fine, although you probably don't care a whole lot about her, do you?  What a pitiful excuse for nobility you turned out to be!"

Wakuren had dripped scorn into every word of his last sentence, but Lord Andrus was fixated on what the half-orc had said before.  "_What have you done with my son?_" he screamed in frustration, his face a mask of living rage.  Below him, Alewyth cast a summoning spell of her own and brought forth a fiendish giant praying mantis, which wasted no time in flashing out with its barbed forearms and grabbing at the second dread guard.

Thurloe swigged down a _potion of neutralize poison_ before the remaining dwarven bodyguard crossed the kitchen to face him; he didn't particularly like the look of that mechanical wasp and didn't trust it not to be filled with some sort of virulent venom.  And sure enough, the familiar darted forward, headed not for Thurloe but for Zander, having determined the spellcaster was a bigger potential threat to his master.  The wasp's clockwork abdomen thrust forward and a metal stinger pierced the elven sorcerer's flesh, pumping in a dose of venom, but Zander gutted it out and avoided the worst of the poison's effects.  Then he counterattacked with a _shocking grasp_ spell, learning in the process that the mechanical insect seemed to be particularly vulnerable to electricity - good to know!

The dread guards had now split up, one taking on the bison and the other concentrating on the fiendish mantis.  The wasp swarm expanded, some of them continuing to try to sting the celestial bison while others went over to engulf Alewyth within their swarm.  The bison continued to ignore the cloud of insects, continuing its attacks upon the dread guard, whose armor now included a few rents completely through the metal, revealing there was nothing inside the armor at all.  Alewyth stepped out of the swarm and swung _Sjondra_ into the side of the dread guard engaged in combat with her summoned mantis.  The animated constructs continued fighting their current targets - the bison and mantis - apparently not capable of high-level reasoning to determine the optimal foe on which to concentrate their attacks.

Up on the landing past the staircase, Lord Andrus took a step back from the approaching Wakuren and cast a _hold person_ spell on him, but it had no effect.  Wakuren pulled back his right arm and summoned up a lightning bolt from his _gauntlet of Cal_, flinging the _javelin of lightning_ directly into his foe's chest.  Down in the kitchen, Thurloe cut a deep gash across the dwarven bodyguard's chest with his bastard sword and then Xandro stepped up and finished the job with a deep stab of his longsword.  The dwarf fell to the kitchen floor, dead.  The wasp construct then abandoned the kitchen, flying back over the celestial bison's broad back and up the stairs, attacking Wakuren from behind.  But Wakuren ignored the poison's effects as well as Zander had earlier.

Lord Andrus stepped into his bedroom and slammed the door shut, leaning against it to prevent the enraged half-orc from pushing his way through.  Still infuriated himself about the capture of his grub, he managed to focus on the words of a much-needed _stoneskin_ spell.  And then, most of his useful combat spells already having been cast, he saw no more need to remain in his human form and allowed the change to come over him, returning him to his natural guise....

Zander stepped out of the kitchen and into the foyer, casting a _lightning bolt_ spell that took out most of the wasp swarm, as well as both dread guards, all in one fell swoop.  "Nice one, Zander!" Alewyth called from the foyer, her battle foe now a collapsed pile of unmoving armor pieces on the floor before her.

Seeing the foes downstairs had been vanquished and there was no way the celestial bison would fit up the staircase, Wakuren casually dismissed him from service and focused his attention on the door before him.  Lord Andrus was no doubt expecting him - a dumb, brutish half-orc, and a member of the common class to boot - to go smashing his way through the bedroom door.  And though there was a part of him that very much wanted to do that very thing, Wakuren tamped down the impulse and decided to put his reason to bear.  He opened the door to his left and sure enough, it was unlocked.  He stepped into a spacious bathroom, with a door on the other side that no doubt led into the bedroom.  Crossing the room, he opened the other door and stepped into the bedroom...

...and saw, there in the corner of the room, his massive bulk holding closed the main door of the bedroom, a six-limbed humanoid insect, with black and yellow chitin covering its body.  Here at last was Lord Andrus Vesperman in his true form: not that of a human, but of a werewasp.  Despite the nobleman's wizardly studies, Wakuren instantly realized the grub that had eaten its way out of the body of Lady Angelica wasn't some sort of arcane experiment but the werewasp's true progeny, the next in his line of insectoid generation.

These thoughts and realizations took but a moment, and then Wakuren was back to letting his rage take the wheel.  He raced across the distance and slammed his shield into the werewasp, only then realizing the creature was protected by a _stoneskin_ spell.  Still, that wouldn't do anything but prolong the inevitable, the half-orc swore to himself.  Lord Andrus spun to face Wakuren, abandoning his attempts at keeping the main door closed, and that allowed Alewyth to enter and attack the werewasp with her enchanted dwarven warhammer.  And while she was engaging the lord of the manor, her summoned mantis managed to grab hold of the wasp construct in its serrated claws and break it into several pieces.

Thurloe pounded up the stairs behind Alewyth, opting to go through the bathroom to get into the bedroom, as the dwarf was blocking the more direct entrance.  He attacked Lord Andrus with his bastard sword, smashing past the _stoneskin_ protection and managing to cut into the werebeast's chitinous armor.  With all the action now going on upstairs, Xandro cautiously walked up the steps and entered the bedroom through the bathroom, his lute back out and the song of inspirational courage being played as loudly as he could.

Lord Andrus looked about him and singled Xandro out as the weakest, no doubt due to his lack of heavy armor and the fact he currently had no weapon at hand.  But despite lashing out with the claws of his two larger hands (he had a smaller set of limbs in his hybrid form, growing just beneath his longer set of arms, but they had nowhere near the reach and were typically not used in combat), snapping with his serrated mandibles, and jabbing forward with the sharp stinger poking out from the tip of his abdomen, Xandro expertly dodged each attack as it was made, infuriatingly not even missing a beat from his lute-playing - as if the werewasp were not even a big enough threat to cease playing his tune!

Then Zander came up the stairs behind Alewyth and sent a _scorching ray_ firing over her shoulders to strike the werewasp.  Wounded as he'd been from the physical attacks that had chipped away at his _stoneskin_ protection, the blasts of flame were enough to push Lord Andrus over the edge and into death.  He fell to the floor of his bedroom, all of his plans dashed.  But if the _whispering wind_ spell he'd managed to cast before being slain worked as he'd hoped, he might yet have his revenge....

The battle over, the heroes dragged the bodies of the dead outside into the back yard before allowing the women to exit from the lamp back into the manor house.  Mrs. Wiggins and the maids had managed to comfort Lady Angelica in the meantime, and she stood regally and asked to be shown the body of her husband.  She frowned in puzzlement at the form of the wasp-thing the heroes showed her, but even as a half-human monstrosity she could see enough of Lord Andrus in the shape of the brow to realize, deep down, that all she was being told was true: her husband was never a human but some sort of hybrid insect-thing, and her marriage was never anything but a means by which he'd use her body as an incubator to grow the next generation of his horrid race.  "That white grub thing, that chewed its way out of my body...I want it slain," she declared.

"And we will," Alewyth assured her.

"That still leaves us up in the air about the dreamer," Thurloe pointed out.  Wakuren, not wanting the spellsword to start describing the intimate details of the dream itself, stepped in and started describing the young man from the dream.  "Why, that's Henry," one of the maids piped up after hearing him described, and Mrs. Wiggins added that Henry was a stable boy in the Vesperman employ, but he was inherently lazy and apparently took off about a week ago.  "Probably went off to spend time with that farmer's girl, *Glorinna Sputney*," she opined.  A press for details indicated Glorinna was likely the other girl vying for his carnal attentions in the dream.

A quick search of the stables revealed a large, empty area where the carriage was stored and two of the three horse stalls empty (Mrs. Wiggins explained their butler had taken it to town a few hours ago to fetch supplies), and there, hidden behind the bales of hay in the feed stall, the unconscious form of one *Henry Baskindale*.  Thurloe tossed him over his shoulder and plopped him down in the carriage garage, and then Alewyth explained to the women of the manor what they needed to do to awaken him from his dreams.  Lady Angelica and the house staff returned to the manor to start setting things right while the five dreamwalkers went about their ritual.  In the end, waking Henry required the heroes to convince him to make a choice between the two women with which he was smitten: the unapproachable Lady Angelica (she was far above Henry's station and had no reciprocal feelings for the servant boy - although Thurloe predictably muddied the waters by pointing out she was now a widow and technically back on the market) or Glorinna the farm-girl, who was his own age and from his own common upbringing.  Once Henry, in his dream, made it clear he was going to commit himself to Glorinna the dream started vanishing all around them.

Everyone woke up at about the same time, the five heroes sitting in a circle around the confused stable boy.  "You might as well go head on over to Glorinna right now," Thurloe suggested, "because your ass is definitely fired from this job."

"Well, I'm glad that at least ended up fairly well for all involved," said Alewyth as she opened the double doors to the carriage house.  In doing so, she heard the unmistakable sound of the flapping of leathery wings, looked up, and saw a horse-sized monstrosity coming in for a landing before her.  The creature was a strange amalgamation of dragon and insect: large, bulbous, multifaceted eyes, with alternating bands of scales of yellow and brown down its entire flank giving it the appearance of some sort of insect hybrid.  Alewyth judged she had enough time to cast another _bless_ spell (as the original had run its course) before the creature arrived, so she did so.

Thurloe saw a draconic shape coming down from the sky, immediately realized it would likely have a breath weapon of some type, and dashed out the back of the carriage shed, running north.  Wakuren ran south for the same reason: not wanting to be all bunched up such that one blast of a breath weapon could encompass the entire group.  Xandro started back up with his song of inspirational courage as he backed behind the carriage house and stables, while Zander cast _haste_ on the group before they got too far apart, then went out the back of the building in the opposite direction from that which the bard had gone.

And by then the arsalon had landed, spewing forth its breath weapon.  Being one of the stranger types of greater drake, its throat sac was coated in a sweet, nectarlike substance that attracted flying insects and this particular arsalon had a hive of wasps living within its throat bladder.  With enough pressure to disturb the hive, the creature ensured a swarm of enraged wasps came barreling out of its mouth at full speed, totally encompassing Alewyth and Henry, who still stood in the middle of the empty carriage parking area.  They swatted furiously at the stinging insects but the stable boy was quickly overcome, his body swelling by the numerous stings he'd received from the furious insects.  He collapsed onto the floor of the shed, unconscious.

Alewyth bent over and picked him up, dragging him out the back way and kicking the doors shut with her feet; they didn't automatically lock but it was enough for her to stop the swarm's advance.  Thurloe, in the meantime, had done an about-face and was now charging the arsalon, now that it had disgorged its breath weapon and the spellsword anticipated he'd have a few seconds before the drake could employ it again.  (Little did he know it, but the arsalon had a breath weapon generally employed but the one time, for once the angry wasps evacuated their nest inside the arsalon's throat bladder they generally didn't return until the combat was at an end.)  His bastard sword came swinging in from the side, cutting deep into the creature's scales.

Wakuren likewise charged the hive drake from the other direction, using the bottom point of his shield as an offensive weapon that stabbed into its side, just behind its right wing.  Xandro continued his song, advancing around the smaller out-building  so he could see the combat unfold.  Zander, a sorcerer, had no access to healing spells but he did have a way to help stabilize Henry and cast a _bear's endurance_ spell upon the unconscious stable boy; the increased vitality helped him overcome the shock to his system from all of the wasp venom coursing through his body.

The arsalon swung to the right and snapped at Wakuren with its fang-filled mouth, trying to claw him at the same time; the half-orc dodged the one attack and allowed the other to slide harmlessly across his shield.  The swarm of wasps, prevented by the closed doors in the back from continuing their attacks upon Alewyth and Henry, veered off in the opposite direction and came flying out of the other doors, quickly engulfing Thurloe.  Alewyth cast a _spiritual weapon_ spell, sending a warhammer made of solid force energy crashing down upon the arsalon's head while Thurloe did his best to attack the creature while nearly blinded by the dozens, if not hundreds, of individual wasps swarming between him and his intended foe.

Wakuren summoned another _javelin of lightning_ into his raised hand and let it fly, blasting the arsalon's side.  Then Zander came stepping up into range, his hands held together before him, thumbs touching, as he verbalized the words to the _burning hands_ spell.  A sheet of flames encompassed the wasps covering Thurloe (and singeing the spellsword a bit as well, but Zander was sure Thurloe would be fine with a little collateral damage) and burning the arsalon's head as well.  By this time, it had pretty much decided to flee, having answered Lord Andrus's _whispering wind_ call but finding the group waiting for it to be a bit more than it was willing to handle.  It turned back the way it had come, flapped its leathery wings, and was soon aloft - but Zander wasn't about to let it escape.  A _lightning bolt_ spell soon had the arsalon back on the ground, crashing in an ungainly heap as its life was taken from it by the elf sorcerer's spell.

The creature dead and the few remaining wasps from the initial swarm wandering away now that combat was over, Thurloe looked around and said, "Let's get out of here."  They checked on Lady Angelica one last time to ensure she'd be all right, and they were given all of Lord Andrus's alchemical equipment from his lab (she wanted nothing to do with his arcane experiments), the weapons and armor from the dwarven bodyguards, plus a sizable sum in gemstones as a reward for having saved her life and those of her retainers, and then the group was off.

And as per her promise to Lady Angelica, that night before retiring for the evening in the lamp, they dumped the werewasp grub from the magic chest and stabbed it to death.

 - - -

I want to note this is the second adventure in a row that the players opted to try the "Trojan Horse" gambit with all but one PC inside the magic lamp while the other one carries it where they need to infiltrate, and neither time has it gone exactly as planned.  And I named the adventure after a band my son Logan enjoys, "The Birthday Massacre."  (I rather like them as well.)  But it seemed fitting.

Also, a note about the campaign: we'll be taking a brief hiatus for six weeks or so, while one of our number undergoes some surgery that will require a bit of extensive healing up afterwards.  We'll allow that to run its course and will likely pick the campaign back up in mid-October or so.

 - - -

T-shirt worn: My Spider-Man T-shirt, for the most tenuous of reasons.  For one thing, there's a spider wasp that lays its eggs in the bodies of paralyzed spiders, allowing the hatching grubs to have a living meal immediately upon hatching (rather like the unfortunate situation in which Lady Angelica found herself).  For another, one of the many members of Spider-Man's rogues gallery is a Nazi scientist named "Swarm" whose vaguely humanoid body is made up of a swarm of bees.  But mostly, spiders and wasps are both "bugs," which was all the justification I needed.  (Plus, had I worn my "DAD: Cleverly Disguised as a Responsible Adult" T-shirt, which was my original idea, it would have potentially spilled the beans about Lord Andrus not being who he seemed to be.)


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## Richards (Oct 1, 2022)

*ADVENTURE 34: UNDERDARK TRAILS*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 7​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 3/spellsword 1​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 3/paladin 4​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 5/rogue 2​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 7​
NPC Roster:
Streggin Cavedelver, dwarf ranger 3​
Game Session Date: 24 September 2022

 - - -

"Hey kupo!" Mogo greeted the group of five dreamwalkers as they entered the Hallway of Dreams.  "There's another set of dreamstones the Queen of Dreams would like you to fetch, kupo!  Only one problem – it's deeper in the Underdark than you've ever been before, kupo!"

Mogo further explained the readings on these particular dreamstones were faint, possibly due to the deepness of the Underdark and possibly because none of the beings around the dreamstones were dreaming about them very often.  As a result of the faint trace with this batch of dreamstones, there was no specific path to follow to get to them; the best the moogles could do was provide the correct entrance to the Underdark – and then after that it would be up to the adventurers.  One thing Mogo was able to tell them was the pair of dreamstones had been carved into eyes and placed into the statue of a kobold, so it was probably a kobold warren they'd be looking for.

"Every once in a while we can make out an image near the location of the dreamstones, and it's always rows of kobolds lined up and facing the statue, kupo!  It's almost like they worship it or something, kupo!"

The Underdark entrance was in the dwarven mining town of Agatesgate, so named because of the gem mines in the nearby mountains, where agates were recovered from beneath the earth.  The dwarves were a friendly lot, although they were very focused on riches; not surprisingly, the city's primary deity wasn't Aerik but rather Farthingale, here depicted with dwarven features.  The group decided to stock up on the items they envisioned needing on a journey deep underground, whereupon Thurloe, opting to pick up some pitons and a grappling hook, discovered the prices in Agatesgate were considerably higher than in other towns and cities they'd visited since they started wandering the continent coming to the rescue of trapped dreamers.  He grumbled at the price increases, but he still made his purchases - to include 10 sunrods, three flasks of oil, and two vials of antitoxin.  Like it or not, they weren't going to have the opportunity to make such purchases once they were wandering around in Underdark tunnels, for who knew how long they'd be down there?

"We ought to ask around, see if anybody knows anything about a kobold warren with a statue with eyes carved out of dreamstone," suggested Xandro.  As this meant hitting the local watering holes, Thurloe was all for it - although he soon discovered dwarven ale was much stronger than the alcoholic beverages with which he was more familiar.  Still, Xandro's good nature and way with people - not to mention Alewyth's presence, which got a lot of the local men talking with her, if not the others - soon led to confirmation that at least one dwarf had seen a kobold statue of the type they described.  Sadly, he was dead, but a friend of his had heard the tale enough times before he was able to scratch out a map of the rough location.  "Coupla days of travel there," he advised.  "As much time as ye need dealin' with th' kobolds, an' then coupla days back.  A week, tops."

Another dwarf suggested if they were going to spend a week in the Underdark, they'd be foolish not to hire a guide - and as it happened, his cousin was one of the best.  The group agreed to meet with him, and soon enough they had *Streggin Cavedelver* on the payroll for 25 pieces of gold a day.  Streggin had never been to the kobold warren they were looking for, but he looked over the hand-drawn map and suggested everyone pack for a week's journey.  When he asked about their willingness to rough it in the wild, he was amazed when they showed him their magic lamp - they wouldn't need to "rough it" quite so much after all!

Naturally, they'd be leaving their animals and wagon behind them, so they got them settled into a stable and Scarlie Besker settled into an inn, with promises they should be back in a week or less.  He in turn promised to check on the animals daily and ensure they were being well tended to.  Then, deciding it would be best to get a fresh start in the morning, they adjourned to the interior of the magic lamp for a good night's rest.

Meeting up with Streggin in the morning, they entered the agate mine and were escorted to a vertical shaft in the back, which was under constant guard by a quartet of dwarven fighters.  "No tellin' what might try t' find its way up here," one of them told Alewyth.  "But we're ready fer anythin' might think about poppin' its head up an' botherin' our miners."

Even entering the Underdark led to the group's first decision.  The entry hole was about 90 feet down a nearly vertical shaft, in some places narrow enough there wouldn't be room enough for two people side by side.  Streggin was all for heading down one at a time - he even volunteered to go down first, in case there were any dangers waiting down there for them - but Wakuren came up with a much simpler solution.  "Why don't you all go into the lamp, I'll pick it up, cast a _gaseous form_ spell, and fly on down to the bottom.  Then I can dismiss the spell and you can all come on out again."

"Save your spell - we might want it later," Thurloe advised.  "I'm a decent climber; you all get into the lamp and I'll carry it down."

"Yeah, but if you fall you could get seriously hurt - and possibly damage the lamp," Wakuren countered.

"Are you doubting my abilities?" Thurloe demanded.  "Anyway, I'm already hammering in a piton, see?  We can tie our two lengths of rope together and it'll be no problem."  And as far as he was concerned, that was the end of it.  Wakuren just shrugged and led everyone else into the lamp.  Thurloe climbed down without incident, then popped back inside to let everyone know they were at the bottom of the shaft and the way was clear.  The dwarven guards above warned him they were pulling the rope back up, but to give them a holler when they were ready to climb back up.  "Dinnae wanna make it easy fer any others what might wanna climb on up here!" he advised.

There were two passages from this starting point beneath the agate mines.  In the light of Zander Quilson's _everburning torch_, Wakuren pulled out the hand-drawn map and examined the notes the elderly dwarf had written for them.  "It looks like we want the left tunnel," he said, folding the map back up.  Streggin nodded and led the way.

The tunnel meandered a bit, veering off one way before darting back the other, and the passageway's width and height varied wildly as well, on occasion opening up into a cavern with a ceiling height beyond the illumination of Zander's _everburning torch_, while in other places it called for walking single file and hunched over because that was the only way to make any forward progress.  But after about 40 minutes, the "sameness" of the Underdark trail was broken by the discovery of a skeleton lying face-down just ahead, in an area where the tunnel made one of its random right-angle turns.

Streggin, as usual, was in the lead and he stopped suddenly when he spotted the skeleton, raising his hand to warn the others to hold up.  There were no other creatures visible in the vicinity, but the skeleton had obviously been used as a food source, given the torn pieces of leather scattered about, likely where it had been ripped from the corpse's armor so whatever predator or scavenger had been making a meal of the dead dwarf - even at this range, Streggin could tell the remains were about the size and shape of a dwarf, probably a duergar - could get to the meat beneath.  There was a light crossbow lying on the stone floor by the skeleton's side, and a quiver with a dozen or so bolts scattered nearby.

The others, stopping in place as directed by their dwarven scout, took the opportunity for some spellcasting; after all, if the predator was still about there was a good chance they'd be fighting it off soon.  Zander cast a _mage armor_ spell upon himself; Thurloe did likewise and then fired off a _shield_ spell from his wand.  Streggin had been looking this way and that, and eventually, he pointed up to the ceiling directly above the skeleton.  "See that?" he asked his charges.

"What?" asked Thurloe, looking up where the dwarf was pointing.  "That bald spot?"  The ceiling, which held dripping stalactites of various sizes, had an area directly above the skeletal remains devoid of such hangings - and the ceiling was slightly lower than the surrounding area as well.

"Yep.  That 'bald spot' is what we call a lurker above - a fairly large one, too."  In the light from Zander Quilson's _everburning torch_, Thurloe could make out the creature's basic shape - it was rather like a levitating manta ray or something hovering up at the top of the cavern's ceiling.

"We could easily bypass it," pointed out Wakuren.  "Everyone could jump into the lamp, and I'll pick it up and cast _gaseous form_ on myself."

"But it'll still be alive when we need to come back this way, after we fetch the dreamstones," argued Alewyth.  "And if it killed that dwarf, we know it attacks sentient creatures - it's a menace we should deal with."

Zander cast a _mage hand_ spell and used it to drag the light crossbow from the dead dwarf's side, over to him.  He watched the lurker above to see if the movement would trigger an attack, but apparently its senses knew the difference between an inanimate object being pulled away and an actual, living creature directly below it waiting to be attacked and devoured.  Perhaps due to the constricting passageways jutting out in two directions from the larger cavern in which it hung about, it was apparently content to wait for prey to pass by beneath it; while it could probably constrict itself somehow and squeeze through the narrower tunnels (and in fact would have had to to have gotten to its present position), that didn't seem to be its first choice in the matter.

Slowly, the heroes all inched forward, weapons drawn and ready to attack if the lurker above made a move for them.  Finally, Alewyth cast a _spiritual weapon_ and sent a magical warhammer flying up to smash into the creature's underside.  Zander almost immediately followed up with a _scorching ray_ spell, likewise hitting it on the bottom part of its hovering body.  Streggin fired his light crossbow at it, while Wakuren activated his _gauntlet of Cal_ and sent a _javelin of lightning_ crashing up against it as well.

Under the combined onslaught, the lurker above finally deemed to act.  Flapping its two "wings" and spinning in place to face these attackers, it shot forward - but Thurloe blasted it with his _wand of magic missiles_ and it died on its way down, its body hitting short of any of its intended targets.  Its corpse did land upon the skeletal dwarf, forcing the group to lift one wing high enough for Zander to scramble beneath it to fetch the quiver, which held a total of eleven bolts.  A quick _detect magic_ spell confirmed the dead dwarf's light crossbow had a minor enchantment guiding the bolts fired from it, and as a result both it and the quiver of bolts were given to Xandro, who was fairly lacking in the ranged attack department.  The threat handily dealt with, the group trekked on, Streggin Cavedelver leading the way.

After another hour or more of travel, the narrow passageway led into a much wider tunnel leading from side to side.  There was another dwarven body lying upon the ground, with dwarven runes carved into the wall above him and off to the left a bit.  Alewyth moved forward to examine the runes while Wakuren went over to look at the corpse.  It was a duergar, no doubt about it, and unlike the one the lurker above had been eating this one had been slain fairly recently - within the past hour, by the half-orc's estimation.  Streggin examined the corpse, noting something the others hadn't noticed: he was wearing chain mail armor and had a heavy steel shield at his side and a light crossbow strapped to his back, but no melee weapon.  "Looks to be a typical duergar guard," the dwarven scout explained, "but any duergar in his right mind would have some sort of weapon at hand for hand-to-hand fighting."

"How'd he die?" Thurloe asked.

"Blow to the head," Streggin answered, rolling the body over so the spellsword could see the caved-in part of the gray dwarf's skull.  "Simple bludgeoning weapon, likely: a hammer or club'd be my guess."

Alewyth returned to the others.  "Dwarven runes," she said.  "It's a warning that there's a duergar slave city that way."  She pointed off to the left.

"That's not the way we need to go, is it?" Zander asked.  Wakuren got out the map and they examined it in the elf's magic torchlight.  "Nope, we go the other way," Streggin answered.

"Let's go, then," suggested Thurloe.

They headed off to the right, the wider passageway allowing them to spread out a bit instead of the single file they'd been forced to follow for a large section of the trip thus far.  The passageway led into an enormous cavern ahead, from which the sounds of dripping water could be heard.  But the closer they got to the cavern, the worse the air started to smell.  It wasn't the odor of bad gas, or toxic fumes - more in the line of an animal stench, similar to that produced by the troglodytes they'd faced the last time they went delving into the Underdark, although this stench wasn't quite like that: it was less reptilian and more insectile.  The reason for this became abundantly clear once they actually entered the cavern proper, and saw a few giant cockroaches in the light of the _everburning torch_.  Alewyth, Wakuren, and Streggin could see much farther than the light's illumination and they saw a full nine of the giant insects - plus the fact that three of them were being ridden by large, shaggy-furred individuals, humanoid in build but with features slightly reminiscent of bears.

"Quaggoths!" swore Streggin under his breath, apparently much more familiar with the creatures than was Alewyth, who'd never seen such beings before.  Fortunately, the quaggoths all had their backs turned, examining the various smaller exits from the tunnel, as if deciding which one to take.  This gave Wakuren enough time to discern their auras and confirm that while the cockroaches bore no stain of evil, the shaggy-furred quaggoths certainly did.

Not liking the prospects of having to fight giant bugs, Thurloe unstoppered a vial of antitoxin and swigged down its contents, certain there was likely some sort of toxin or poison involved in the stomach-churning stanch the cockroaches put off.  Before any of them got too far away from each other - and knowing that happened all too often once combat began - Zander cast a _haste_ spell on the assembled group.  Streggin already had a bolt loaded into his crossbow and was cautiously moving up, Xandro mirroring the dwarf ranger's actions with his own new light crossbow.  Alewyth cast a _magic circle against evil_ spell upon herself as she advanced, _Sjondra_ in hand.

But before any of them could attack, one of the quaggoths turned around and noticed the light and called out a warning to the others.  All three mounted quaggoths spun their insectile mounts about, and they no doubt warned the other six using some subtle pheromones or antennae movements, for the other cockroaches spun about in place to face the heroes as well.  The quaggoths nudged their mounts forward into a charge, and Wakuren and the dwarves couldn't help but notice that while two of the white-furred creatures wielded what looked like broken-off stalagmites as clubs, the third had a warhammer of likely duergar make; it seemed as if the heroes had found the ones responsible for the dead duergar guard whose remains they'd discovered in the wide tunnel behind them.

Before the charging giant cockroaches could reach them, Wakuren cast a summoning spell and a celestial bison appeared in the middle of the cavern.  Without waiting for instructions from its summoner, the shaggy bovine slammed its great, horned head into the side of one of the mounted quaggoths.  But then the cockroaches reached their targets, one biting at Thurloe, three going for Alewyth, and four ganging up on the celestial bison.  The stench only increased as a result of their actions, and Xandro, Zander, and Streggin found their stomachs churning in turmoil as a result of the horrific stench.  They could only guess the quaggoths either had some natural immunity, had built up a tolerance, or just had iron stomachs, for none of them seemed discomfited in the least.

Thurloe brought his magical bastard sword slashing down into the hardened carapace of the giant cockroach before him, one of the six not currently being ridden.  Alewyth, seeing the logic behind Wakuren's summoning, took a step back from the cockroach attacking her and summoned a celestial bison of her own.  But by then two of the quaggoths advanced upon her, striking at her with stone greatclub and duergar-forged warhammer, and it was all she could do to block the blows with _Sjondra_.  The other quaggoth was fighting back against the bison Wakuren had summoned, but it retaliated with a smiting attack with holy energy channeled through its horns.

The half-orc leapt into battle, swinging his shield onto the side of one of the quaggoths attacking Alewyth and almost knocking him from the giant cockroach's back, for Wakuren could see these shaggy riders used no saddles.  Thurloe kept swinging his bastard sword against the cockroach trying to make a meal of him, looking back in disdain at Streggin and the two members of his own team who were currently nauseated by the cockroach stench to the point they couldn't contribute to the battle at hand.  "Shake it off!" he yelled at the vomiting trio, not understanding why everyone wasn't as tough as he was.  Obviously, they just weren't trying hard enough, that was the problem!

Alewyth's _Sjondra_ took out one of the quaggoths with a well-targeted blow to the side of its shaggy head; it slumped to the ground in a lifeless heap while its insectoid mount tried biting at the dwarven priestess.  But the other quaggoth - the probable leader, given he was the one wielding the duregar warhammer - got in a good blow of his own, nearly dropping Alewyth to her knees.  Wakuren wasn't close enough to reach the other quaggoth, so he used the full amount of strength coursing through his half-orc body to bring the bottom point of his shield crashing down upon the mount of the quaggoth Alewyth had just slain.  It gashed the side of the insect's head, slicing through a shiny, domed eye.

The other quaggoth was still focused upon fighting off a celestial bison, and the shaggy beast in turn seemed intent to slay that particular quaggoth.  The other bison, in the meantime, satisfied itself with goring any and all giant cockroaches within reach.  The insects, for their part, snapped their horrible mouthparts at any foe they could reach.  But Thurloe's sword sliced deep into the carapace of the one he'd been fighting, nearly killing it, just as the nauseous trio started coming around.  Zander hobbled forward and lined up a _lightning bolt_ spell that not only slew the cockroach Thurloe had been fighting but also dealt some heavy damage to two others further back in the cavern.  Streggin's crossbow twanged and a bolt stuck out from another cockroach's eye as its twin antennae whipped about in pain and fury.  Alewyth almost knocked down her remaining quaggoth foe from his insectoid mount's carapaced back with a hearty blow from _Sjondra_.  And then from the back of the cavern, the inspiring sounds of Xandro's favorite courage-inducing song could be heard, buoying the spirits of the heroes who were being wordlessly reminded of all of the various other foes they'd overcome in the past.  Xandro had come to the conclusion his magic song would aid the group's battle overall much better than could another light crossbow being brought to bear; while the song wasn't creating any direct damage on its own, it was allowing his friends to each do better in their own fights: striking faster, with more power behind each strike.

The two quaggoths, perhaps fearing the eventual end result of this skirmish, started an all-out attack on their foes, one raining blows down upon Alewyth and the other finally slaying the first celestial bison that had been summoned to the fight.  But by then Wakuren had made it to his fellow cleric's side and, fury blazing in his eyes, the powerful blow from his shield slew the offending quaggoth outright.

That seemed to be the turning point in the battle.  Thurloe waded up and killed another wounded giant cockroach with his bastard sword, while the remaining bison crushed another beneath its stomping hooves.  Streggin and Alewyth started attacking giant cockroaches as well once another _scorching ray_ cast by Zander took out the last remaining quaggoth.  Even Xandro decided he'd done enough support work with his music and, sliding the strap of his _Dardolian lute_ back over his shoulder, drew his _frost short sword_ and charged to the attack.

But that's when four more foes entered the combat.  These were a pair of enormous spiders, much like tarantulas in build, but ridden by a pair of gray dwarves: a pair of duergar kavalrachni, or steeder-mounted cavalry, having been appointed to hunt down the escaped quaggoth slaves responsible for the death of the duergar guard the heroes had discovered.  And while the kavalrachni could already see the quaggoth slaves had been slain, there looked to be a handful of various humanoids - a couple of surface dwarves, a pair of humans, a skinny elf, and some sort of mongrel orc - that could easily be gathered up to take their places.

Wakuren could see by the evil grins on the gray dwarves' faces - to say nothing of the evil suffusing their auras - their intentions toward him and decided to toss another _javelin of lightning_ their way.  As the spider-riders were lined up single file as they entered the cavern from a side tunnel, he managed to get all four with his blast of electricity.  By this point, the giant cockroaches had all decided to flee the scene, although one passed close enough to both Thurloe and Wakuren that their reflexive attacks on it as it passed slew the giant bug outright.

As the steeders advanced, their hairy, banded legs moving like pistons, Thurloe shot at one of the duergar kavalrachni with his _wand of magic missile_.  Zander cast a _scorching ray_ spell, splitting the bolts between the two duergar, killing one of them (although the special saddles each steeder wore into battle kept the corpse in place).  Alewyth centered an _order's wrath_ spell to hit both steeders, both duergar, and one fleeing giant cockroach, causing no small amount of damage to each.  The sole remaining celestial bison, farther away from the approaching kavalrachni than the scurrying cockroaches, stabbed at the nearest insect and slew it with its horns before its time on the Material Plane expired and it returned to its home in the Heavens.

One steeder climbed up the side of the cavern wall, temporarily out of melee combat range, while the other one, its rider dead and no longer giving it battle-prompts, scrambled over to the nearest dead cockroach and started dripping digestive acids upon its carapaced corpse.  Then the one on the wall leaped forward and landed beside Alewyth, the duergar swinging at her leg with a battleaxe, hoping to lame her so she could more easily be taken as a slave.  But Alewyth managed to step away from the axe in time for it to go swishing harmlessly before her.  But he hadn't counted on Wakuren's battle-lust; the half-orc, as bloodthirsty as any of the orc raiders they'd fought in the desert weeks before, sent the edge of his shield slamming into the kavalrach's neck with every ounce of strength he possessed and the duergar's spine snapped under the onslaught.  That left only the two steeders (for the giant cockroaches still alive had managed to scramble out of side-passageways from the cavern by that time), and Zander and Thurloe took them down with a few spells.

Wakuren felt his heartrate slow down now that combat was over and, his mind once again better able to focus on the priorities at hand, helped Alewyth cast healing spells upon those who needed them.  Then, once a quick _detect magic_ spell determined none of the equipment wielded by the duergar or quaggoths had been magical, the group pressed on, exiting through one of the passageways a few of the fleeing cockroaches had taken.  But the panicked insects must have taken a few side branches after that, for the group never did see any of them again as they followed the path prescribed on their hand-drawn map.

Their next encounter wasn't until hours later, after they'd opted to take a quick break inside the magic lamp to take a meal.  With Streggin once again taking the lead (for the passageway had narrowed a bit again), they came upon a junction with a wider tunnel and there before them stood a gray-skinned stone giant and a cave bear - a bruin easily twice or even three times larger than any bear the heroes had seen on the surface world.  The stone giant carried a massive greatclub made of solid rock and wore an expression of weariness upon his craggy brow as he turned toward the sudden source of illumination.

Fortunately, Thurloe - often one of the first to leap into battle - picked up on the giant's expression and saw in it a willingness not to fight, if that were at all possible.  "Greetings," he called to the giant before him.  "Do you speak this language?"

"Some.  Enough," replied the giant, shifting his grip on his weapon in case it became necessary to use it.

"Are you okay?" Thurloe asked.

"Hungry," admitted the giant, which did nothing to convince the others that battle wasn't on the table after all.  But then he continued, "All day, hunting cavern lizard, track him to lair.  But hole too small.  Can't reach him."

Thurloe saw the obvious solution and voiced it on behalf of the group.  "We don't want to have to fight you, we just want to pass by and be on our way.  But what if we help you get that lizard you're after?"

"I have a _soften earth and stone_ spell at hand," Alewyth proffered up.  "I could widen the hole for you."  The stone giant, *Lorgar Borgusson*, agreed at once and held back his cave bear, *Brienda*, who seemed perfectly willing to dine upon one of these strangers instead of the cavern lizard they'd been tracking all day.  But after Alewyth cast her spell, widening the hole to the lizard's den, the group decided to slay the lizard on the giant's behalf and get even further on his good side.  This worked wonders, and once they'd told Lorgar where they were headed, he had even better news for them: not only were they going to be allowed to pass by unharmed, he could even give them pointers on where to find the kobold warren they were searching for, for he'd been that way and seen the statue for himself, some time ago.  Looking over their map, he agreed the path as drawn would get them there, but he added a few details on what type of landmarks to look for before each of the required turns into a new tunnel.  "Got another six, maybe seven hours of travel ahead of you," Lorgar advised, not exactly sure how fast these little people could travel.

Thanking the stone giant and allowing him to enjoy the cavern lizard repast with his cave bear pet, the group moved on.  And it was several hours later that they met with the last of that day's encounters.  It wasn't a particularly dangerous encounter, but it was definitely the most puzzling and one that would cause them a considerable amount of worry.  The passageway narrowed again and started twisting back and forth like a snake, so it wasn't possible to see very far ahead of where they were going.  With Streggin once more in the lead and Zander - and his _everburning torch_ - safely in the middle of the formation, the group moved on and almost bumped into a svirfneblin woman who had been moving down the tunnel toward them, apparently lost in her own thoughts.

"Eep!" she said upon turning the corner and seeing Streggin Cavedelver standing immediately before her.  Behind the dwarf stood Thurloe and Wakuren, then Zander, and finally Alewyth and Xandro bringing up the rear.  Her eyes grew wide at the sight of the assembled group and a shudder raced down her body.  A strange word, likely of Gnomish origin, spilled from her lips - followed almost immediately by a flow of blood.  More blood dripped from each of her nostrils and from her ears, as she began leaking tears of blood as well.  She immediately staggered to one knee, then fell onto her side, her hands clenching and unclenching spasmodically.

"What's happening?" demanded Alewyth from the back of the group, unable to see past the press of bodies before her.  But Thurloe was at the little svirfneblin's side in a moment, pulling the cork stopper to a healing potion as he knelt beside the young woman's body, ready to pour its contents down her throat.  Wakuren knelt by her side, the words to his most powerful healing spell coming to his tongue.  But the deep gnome's body gave a final shudder and Wakuren could see it was too late for any healing spells - the svirfneblin woman was dead.  He told Thurloe not to bother with his potion.

"What just happened?" Thurloe demanded, looking all about him for an unseen attacker.  "How'd she die, that quick?"  With a sudden horrific thought, he pulled his cloak forward to cover his own face and demanded, "Is it poison gas?  Are we under attack?"

"I don't think so," Alewyth replied, casting a _detect poison_ spell and looking around the group, knowing full well some gases couldn't be seen by the naked eye.  But while the air around them was clear, the svirfneblin's body was definitely full of poison.

"What was that word she said?" Wakuren asked.  "Did anybody catch it?"

"It were Gnomish, all right," Streggin replied.  Thinking of how best to translate it into the Common tongue, he finally settled on "deathborn."

"Deathborn?" repeated Thurloe.  "What's that - the name of the poison that killed her?"

"That, I couldn't say," Streggin admitted.

"I don't like this," Zander admitted.

"Me neither," added Xandro.

"We'd best press on," suggested Streggin.  Alewyth felt sorry for the svirfneblin and wanted to bury her, but the ranger advised against it - especially since her body was riddled with whatever virulent poison caused her to spill out her life's blood from each of her facial orifices.  The dwarven priestess finally bowed to the inevitable and pressed on.

The group put another hour or two of travel behind them before deciding to camp out in the lamp overnight.  "At this rate, we'll be at the kobold warren before mid-day meal," advised Streggin.  It didn't cheer up any of the heroes much; they were still worried about what had caused the svirfbneblin to die like that right in front of them with no apparent cause.

 - - -

I had warned the group that this adventure was just a "travel" adventure: a series of Underdark encounters with a few creatures they hadn't met up with before.  (Well, with the possible exception of Dan, who had played AD&D first edition as a kid and likely had met up with a lurker above and/or quaggoths in past campaigns.)  And Harry came through: as a result of his excellent Gather Information rolls in Agatesgate, he not only got word of Streggin Cavedelver as a potential guide but also got them a map to follow.  (Without the map, they'd have had to decide which way to go on several occasions, which would have resulted in other encounters they were able to bypass.  So they avoided combats with darkmantles, piercers, a phantom fungus, and a choker.)  And because those avoided encounters lessened the length of time it took for us to go through this adventure, we had time to go through the next one as well, in which the PCs met up with the kobold warren and found the statue with the dreamstone eyes they'd been sent to fetch.

By the way, this was the first time we played since Joe went off to college, so his dad, Dan, ran Zander Quilson as well as his own PC, Thurloe.  I did up stats for Streggin as well, and Logan opted to run him.  But apparently the next time we play - on 8 October - Joe will be joining us, so he'll be back to running his own PC for at least that one session.  In the meantime, I'll write up the second adventure we played this session, "Dreamstone Vision," hopefully posting it before we play one week from today.

 - - -

T-shirt worn: My USA shirt, with fireworks on the top and a symbol somewhat reminiscent of Captain America's original (non-round) shield below.  I chose it because the T-shirt itself is gray - a good representation of the stone passageways in the Underdark the PCs would be traversing - and also because I mentally gave the acronym a different meaning: "Underdark Survival Adventure."


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## Richards (Oct 4, 2022)

*ADVENTURE 35: DREAMSTONE VISION*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 7​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 3/spellsword 1​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 3/paladin 4​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 5/rogue 2​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 7​
NPC Roster:
Streggin Cavedelver, dwarf ranger 3​
Game Session Date: 24 September 2022

 - - -

"That's the three-column landmark," Streggin observed, pointing to a clump of three stalactites who hung down so low from the cavern ceiling they had merged with the three stalagmites directly below, forming three lumpy columns reaching from floor to cavern ceiling.  "Just like Lorgar said.  That side tunnel on the left leads directly into the kobold warren."

The group approached cautiously, with weapons drawn and combat spells ready to fire.  Turning the corner, however, was somewhat anti-climatic, for the corridor was empty - and rather than leading directly into a kobold worship cavern with a statue whose eyes were made of solid dreamstones, there was instead a solid wall of absolute blackness.  Of course, that didn't mean there wasn't the kobold statue on the other side of the _deeper darkness_ spell, just that it couldn't be seen.

"You hear that?" Zander asked, cocking his head.  The others strained their ears and there was indeed some sort of rhythmic chanting going on, in a squeaky language none of the group could understand.  It came from the other side of the magical darkness.  The elf sorcerer cast a _mage armor_ spell on himself, predicting imminent combat now that they were finally here.  After all, he couldn't very well believe the kobolds were just going to hand over the dreamstones the Queen of Dreams had sent her five dreamwalkers to fetch and return to the surface world.

Thurloe cast a _mage armor_ spell on himself as well and took a few hesitant steps forward.  "Odd that they don't have any guards posted," he whispered to the others.

Alewyth was already tired of all of this pussy-footing around.  It seemed to her as if none of the men wanted to be the first to step forward into the magical darkness.  Of course, if what people said about kobolds was true - that they were devious, nasty trap-makers with a penchant for evil - their cautiousness was probably warranted.  But her dwarven temperament wasn't geared for putting off the inevitable; if there was a trap ahead, the best way to deal with it was to press on ahead and trust in Aerik's protection to keep her safe from harm.  With that thought in mind, she boldly stepped forward, _Sjondra_ in hand.

Before she reached the zone of darkness, though, a pair of reptilian heads popped out of the wall at her side, mouths opened wide and long, venomous fangs exposed as they bit at her.  She managed to dodge one of the snakes but the other got a grip on her arm with its jaws and the priestess could feel the venom being pumped into her system.  But dwarves were a hardy lot and she gritted her teeth, ignored the pain of the bite, and willed the poison to dissipate harmlessly into her system.  Unfortunately, these snakes were quick, and as she spun about to face them head on one of the two got in another poisonous bite.  Alewyth grunted in pain and could actually feel the double-dose of venom start to have an effect on her vitality.

Streggin stepped forward, crossbow pointed at the snakes but they were gone - their striking heads had darted back through the seemingly solid wall of the tunnel.  Still, the dwarven ranger had heard of these kinds of illusory tricks before, and even though he couldn't see through the illusion, he fired his weapon blindly into the _illusory wall_ spell, hoping for the best.

Wakuren took the concept one step further, by stepping forward and sticking his head completely through the _illusory wall_ spell, where he was the first to see that both snakes were actually the two ends of a single creature.  He slammed his shield into the amphisbaena, causing it to hiss in pain from the powerful blow.

Xandro figured any attempts at quietly sneaking into the kobold warren were probably moot by this time, and decided if they were already making the sounds of combat likely to alert the kobolds, he might as well add to the cacophony with a tune of inspirational courage on his _Dardolian lute_.  That way, his friends and allies would at least get the benefit of his magical music inspiring them to greater efforts.

Zander was worried there was going to be an army of kobolds spilling out of the magical darkness at any moment and wanted to be able to warn the others if this was about to occur.  Activating the full power of his _scout's headband_, he granted himself the ability to magically pierce the _deeper darkness_ via a _true seeing_ effect, which allowed him to verify there was indeed the cavern they had hoped for on the other side of the darkness.  And on the far side of the open chamber was the kobold statue they sought, raised on a natural outcropping of stone that elevated the 10-foot-tall statue even higher.  As the moogles had surmised, the kobolds apparently worshiped this statue as a god, for there must have been 50 or so of the little reptiles, all facing the statue in ragged rows, their backs turned to the darkness.  They stood in place, each with a spear in their left hand while their right hand thumped rhythmically on their chests.  If they heard any of the sounds of battle coming from outside, they gave absolutely no indication of it.  Perhaps, Zander mused, they were gearing themselves up into a religious frenzy, where the outside world no longer mattered to them.  But then, with his _true seeing_ enhancing his vision, he noted something he hadn't paid attention to himself at first - the kobolds, all 50 of them, were illusions!  That made absolutely no sense to the elf sorcerer - why in the world would you craft an illusion of false worshipers?  Were they really trying to pull a fast one on their statue god?

Thurloe, in the meantime, followed Wakuren's lead and stepped through the _illusory wall_, bringing his bastard sword crashing into the side of the amphisbaena's scaled body.  He noted the light from Zander's _everburning torch_ had no trouble illuminating this side of the illusion spell; he gave a moment's thought about canceling the _illusory wall_ spell with his sword, _Spellslicer_ being particularly useful in that regard.  But then he decided not to let the kobolds know the adventurers had already tumbled upon one of their secrets.  Alewyth stepped through the false wall and brought her warhammer _Sjondra_ crashing down upon one of the dual-headed serpent's skulls, crushing it instantly.  The remaining head hissed in pain and the creature's long, serpentine body lowered itself to the cold, stone floor of its lair cavern as it died.

Streggin, hearing the sounds of combat die down, closed his eyes and cast his dwarven senses about - if there was one _illusory wall_ around here, it only made sense there could well be another.  His inherent dwarven stonecunning allowed him to sense an opening behind him that, when he opened his eyes and spun about, wasn't at all visible to the ranger.  But trusting his senses, he stepped forward and passed through the fake wall, finding himself in a narrow passageway sloping down and turning to the right.  He backed up into the main tunnel and explained his findings to the others.  Zander took the opportunity to tell the rest of the group of his own discovery about what was on the other side of the _deeper darkness_.

"The little buggers sure like their illusions, don't they?" Alewyth scoffed.

Wakuren took a moment to cast a _light_ spell upon his _shield of Cal_.  "Now we've got two sources of illumination, if we want to split up," he suggested.  Xandro continued playing his tune while the others decided their next move.

"I'm going to check out the chapel," Zander told the others, stepping forward into the zone of darkness.  It lasted only about 10 feet or so, and then he was in the large cavern with the fake kobold parishioners worshiping their stone god.  He stepped up until he was level with the back row of illusory kobolds, continuing to beat their chests and grunt in their doggy language.  Thurloe followed, and on a whim decided to use _Spellslicer_'s ability to dissipate illusions by touching his blade to the head of one of the back-row worshipers.  To the spellsword's surprise, the entire row of five kobolds popped like a bubble.  There were five rows of kobolds, with a passageway down the middle of them; now the back row only consisted of the three kobolds on the other side of the central aisle.  "Weird," Thurloe commented to himself.

Alewyth stepped forward into the darkness and emerged inside the chapel with Thurloe and Zander.  "What's this all about?" she asked the others.

"We're still trying to figure that out," admitted Zander.

There was a sudden commotion behind them, and as the trio of adventurers spun around to face the back of the chapel, two feeble, wooden crates were tossed down on them by a quartet of kobolds from a sort of natural balcony off to their right and about 20 feet up.  One hit Alewyth on the top of her head, while the other crashed to the floor at Thurloe's feet.  But both crates shattered to splinters upon impact, almost causing Thurloe to utter a snide remark about kobold craftsmanship - until the swarms of scorpions skittering out from the crates' remains made it perfectly clear the crates had been built shoddily on purpose.  Dozens, scores, hundreds of scorpions crawled along the floor in all directions, some of them scampering up Alewyth and Thurloe's legs, their venomous stingers doing the kobolds' work for them.  Alewyth, already weakened from the amphisbaena's venomous bites, felt her vaunted dwarven constitution failing her as she succumbed to dozens of stings.  Her body seemed sluggish, although her mental faculties were still all up to par and she realized she needed to get free of these pesky arachnids.

Wakuren and Xandro, in the meantime, offered to follow Streggin down the other tunnel and see where it led, the bard continuing his tune of inspirational courage.  The tunnel descended as it curved to the right, and in a larger cave at the end of the sloping passageway stood two kobold sentries, each armed with a light crossbow.  Streggin got off the first shot, skewering one of the kobolds in the throat, killing him instantly.  The other got off a shot which went over the ranger's head, then both raced to be the first to reload.  Streggin won that contest by a fraction of a second, but it was enough to fire off a shot at the other kobold, killing him as well.

Zander Quilson, realizing his _true seeing_ had a limited duration, looked all around to see if there was anything else of note in the chapel.  He started walking slowly down the aisle between the kobold illusions, paying special attention to the 10-foot-tall kobold statue at the far end.  It, however, was exactly what it appeared to be: a carved stone statue of an enormous kobold, whose eyes were definitely dreamstones and not carved from the rock of the rest of the statue - they had to have been carved separately, or perhaps the stone of the kobold's head was shaped around the existing dreamstones.  In any case, there didn't seem to be any other illusions or other types of magical auras in the vicinity.

Thurloe leapt out of the swarm of scorpions surrounding him, brushed off a few that were crawling up his body, and cast a _scorching ray_ spell, sending one blazing blast at each of the two swarms.  Alewyth also stepped away from the scorpion swarm surrounding her and fished out a tanglefoot bag from her backpack.  Tossing it directly into the mass of scorpions that had flowed out of the crate that had bonked her on the head, the gooey mass flowed over the scorpions, pinning them into place.  The scorpions weren't particularly harmed by this process, but they were immobilized and would eventually starve to death, she reasoned.  In any case, short of someone lying down upon the glued-into-place mass of arachnids, they were effectively out of the combat.  She thought of repeating the maneuver against Thurloe's swarm, but by then they had spread out too much to make a second tanglefoot bag an effective strategy.

From the balcony above, the four kobold scorpion wranglers pulled out slings and sent stones flying down at Alewyth and Thurloe.  But their attacks missed; they'd already used up their "big guns" with the scorpions and were no longer much of a threat.  The remaining scorpion swarm capable of mobility surged forward to encompass Thurloe and Zander, stabbing and pinching, much to the two heroes' annoyance.

Down in the lower side tunnel, Wakuren stepped forward towards the dead kobolds, for there were other passageways in the back of the small guard station he wanted to check out.  Unfortunately, a section of floor just before him was an open pit, its presence masked by a horizontal _illusory wall_ spell making that section look no different than the rest of the stone floor.  Putting his weight down on a foot where there was suddenly no solid floor beneath him sent the half-orc plummeting into the pit.  Fortunately. with the _shield of Cal_ strapped to his arm, its innate _feather fall_ abilities kicked in at once, so Wakuren had no concerns about falling for any great distance and injuring himself.  What _did_ concern him, however, was both the smell wafting up from the bottom of the pit and what he saw waiting there for him at the bottom: the kobolds used this 20-foot-deep pit not only as a trap for unwary invaders, but also as a latrine.  Wakuren desperately wished the _shield of Cal_ had a reverse setting allowing him to slowly rise instead of fall, or that the walls of the latrine pit were less smooth so he could grab hold of an outcropping or something and stop his leisurely descent.  But such was not the case, and Wakuren steeled himself to the fact he was about to ruin his boots.

"You need any help down there?" Xandro called, cautiously sticking his head through the _illusory wall_ spell so he could try to see if Wakuren was okay.  By then the half-orc had landed in a pool of kobold wastes, much to his own disgust.

"No, I'll just use _gaseous form_ to float back out of here," Wakuren answered.

Zander wandered to the front of the illusory kobold worshipers until he was at the foot of the statue's raised stone floor, then turned around to check out the back of the chapel.  There was, he saw, a second balcony over on the left side of the chapel, across the span where the four kobolds were tossing sling stones down at Alewyth and Thurloe.  Fortunately, there were no other kobolds in place there to toss down crates of scorpions; if it was intended as a higher ground from which kobolds could attack intruders from above, it was currently unmanned.

However, while Zander's attention was on the balconies in the back of the chamber, he failed to notice some movement from within the kobold illusions.  There were six narrow holes in the floor scattered beneath six of the 51 (now only 46, thanks to Thurloe's experiment with _Spellslicer_) illusions, and scrambling up through these holes were six kobold warriors, each more or less identical to their illusory versions.  They mirrored the movements of the illusions around them, blending in fairly well from "inside" the illusions, and then they each struck, tossing their spears at Zander.  Two of them hit the sorcerer directly, one in the shoulder and one in the thigh, while the others either missed outright or just skimmed along an arm and harmlessly fell to the side.  But the surprise - and fear - on Zander's face from this unexpected assault was genuine, and he plucked the spears from his body while frantically looking around to see where they had come from.  With his _true seeing_ still in place he was able to see the six real kobolds standing inside the rows of illusory kobolds, and he could also see six more spears being handed to them from someone directly below where they stood.  The kobolds looked at the elf with smirking looks upon their reptilian faces.

Thurloe, in avoiding the mobile swarm, stepped onto the one encased in hardened tanglefoot glue, his hard boots crunching the immobilized scorpions beneath his tread, as he cast another _scorching ray_ spell, this time focusing both fiery blasts at the still-mobile scorpions.  Alewyth, in the meantime, cast a _spiritual weapon_ spell up at the kobold slingers, slamming a dwarven warhammer made of solid force energy their way.  The first blow killed its kobold victim outright; Alewyth was learning these reptilian beasts were not very powerful when it came to physical combat, which is probably why they relied so much upon devious trickery.

Not wanting to be the next victim of the _spiritual warhammer_, one of the kobold slingers raced down a sloping passageway that led up to the balcony (and the cave behind it where the scorpions had been raised) - and promptly found himself staring down Streggin Cavedelver, who had his light crossbow loaded and ready to fire.  The kobold soon had a crossbow bolt embedded in the space between his eyes, and he fell to the ground, dead.  Then, as Wakuren floated up out of the latrine pit in _gaseous form_ and resumed a more solid existence, Streggin looked about and saw where the several other passageways led.  Two, directly ahead of him, looked like they led underneath the central "chapel" cavern, but they were low and narrow - easily traversed by a three-foot-tall kobold, but more of a tight fit for a good-sized dwarf.  Another passageway kept more or less to the same level, and it led into what looked to be a fungal garden.  There was always the likelihood of some dangerous growths in there - violet fungus, perhaps, or an ascomoid - but the ranger figured it was more likely a food supply for the kobold warren, and therefore probably perfectly safe.  He voiced his reasoning to the others and Xandro decided that was likely the best option.

Stepping into the cave with Wakuren - and the light from his shield - behind him, Xandro quickly learned the fungal cavern wasn't _entirely_ safe, for there were two kobolds in there, harvesting fungal growths.  They were armed with slings and several stones came hurtling his way, but he easily dodged the little missiles and then prepared a counterattack.

The remaining scorpions skittered over to Alewyth, the nearest warm-blooded target now that their dander was up and they were in a combative mood.  But while she was dealing with avoiding them, Thurloe, near the entrance to the chapel, was facing the statue - and saw a reptilian head pop up from the ground by the statue's feet.  It dropped down as quickly as it had risen up, but during that time Zander felt a magical attack trying to block his vision - a _blindness/deafness_ spell, no doubt.  Looking about and not seeing any likely spellcasters (just the six kobolds grabbing up spears being handed to them from below), the elf decided discretion was the better part of valor and went racing down the central aisle between the illusory kobolds, past Alewyth and Thurloe, through the _deeper darkness_ spell effect area, and back over to the entry tunnel where the group had fought off the amphisbaena.  Hoping he'd have better luck going down the other tunnel, he passed through the _illusory wall_ spell and started following the path Streggin, Wakuren, and Xandro had taken.  There, on the floor before him (with his _true seeing_ still in effect), he saw the _illusory wall_ spell covering the open pit Wakuren had fallen into earlier.  He cast a _prestidigitation_ spell that altered the coloration of the stone floor to make the square stand out, so any of his friends would know to avoid it.  Then, giving the square a wide berth, Zander pressed on.  He cast a _bear's endurance_ spell upon himself, hoping to buoy up his physical fortitude after having taken those two hits from the kobolds' spears.  It wasn't the same as an actual healing spell or potion, but it was what he had on hand at the moment and would have to do.

With Zander gone from the chapel, the six hidden kobolds spun around and threw their second spears at Alewyth and Thurloe, dividing the targets up evenly between them.  Thurloe finished off the remaining scorpions with a well-placed _scorching ray_, much to Alewyth's relief, but then she signaled for Thurloe to join her in following Zander's path.  "Splittin' up was probably not our best idea," she said.  Thurloe shrugged and followed, while Alewyth fished around in her backpack and applied a dose of _Keoghtom's ointment_ to her many stings, the magical paste helping neutralize the venom coursing through her system.  Her still-active _spiritual weapon_ floated beside her once she could no longer see any foes to which to send it to the attack.

They caught up to Streggin before long; the dwarf had stationed himself in front of the two narrow passageways leading below the chapel, light crossbow at the ready.  "Anything pops its head out of either tunnel, it's getting a bolt to the face," he promised.  "Xandro and Wakuren are in the fungal cave behind me."

Unseen by any of the others, the dark naga allied with the kobolds - and who had popped its head up from a narrow, corkscrewing tunnel at the foot of the kobold statue to cast a _blindness/deafness_ spell at Zander, to no avail - crawled down from its sentry point and back into its own lair.  It cast a _mage armor_ spell upon itself, preparing for combat with the intruders it could hear in the fungal cavern, one short passageway distant.  But then it was seen by Wakuren, whose darkvision was just as sharp as its own, and the armored half-orc came charging at the serpentine foe, shield raised and ready to deploy as a weapon.  Xandro, in the meantime, had slain one of the kobolds in the fungal cave with his _frost short sword_.  The twang of Streggin's crossbow and the startled cry of a slain kobold indicated the little buggers had tried exiting the cavern beneath the chapel, to no avail.  But now Thurloe and Alewyth were within sight of the dwarven ranger, and Alewyth sent her _spiritual weapon_ spell ahead to take out another kobold exiting the second of the to narrow tunnels.

After Wakuren's shield slammed into the dark naga's side, it opted to retaliate physically at first before employing any of its offensive spells.  In the manner of a true serpent, it unhinged its jaws and bit at the half-orc, who managed to get his shield up in time to deflect the attempted bite attack.  But the bite had been mostly a feint, allowing the sharp stinger at the tip of the dark naga's tail to strike just as quickly and pierce the half-orc's neck.  The venom injected into Wakuren's system worked almost instantly; the half-orc staggered, then fell crashing over onto his side, poisoned into a nightmare-wracked sleep.

Seeing this, Alewyth passed her vial of _Keoghtom's ointment_ over to Thurloe and pointed to the dark naga slithering over Wakuren's recumbent form; fortunately, the _light_ spell was still in effect upon the _shield of Cal_ so Thurloe, with his limited human vision, could see the threat for what it was.  He took the vial from Alewyth and, bastard sword in his right hand, advanced cautiously towards the dark-scaled serpent with the disturbingly-humanlike head.  Alewyth killed the other fungal-gathering kobold with _Sjondra_, dealing with the last threat in the fungal cavern.

Streggin took out another kobold in the rightmost tunnel, then rushed to reload before any of the others behind the newly-slain one could reach him.  A flurry of kobold spears came flying up at him, but they had been thrown in hasty panic and none of them hit the dwarf.  Alewyth's _spiritual warhammer_ took out another kobold coming out of the leftmost tunnel as Streggin got his crossbow up again in time to shoot another kobold emerging from the tunnel to the right.

Xandro pulled out his _Dardolian lute_ and started playing an intricate tune.  This was not his song of inspirational courage, the tune he most often employed in combat - instead, this was a tune he'd only used once before, when he'd _fascinated_ a pair of awakened apes in Baron's Haven who had been magically disguised by illusion magic to appear as a commoner and a large dog.  But playing for all he was worth, he slowly, in a non-threatening fashion, started walking toward the dark naga, not a trace of fear on his face as he approached.

The dark naga wasn't quite sure of what to make of this strange behavior - but it was, there was no denying it, quite fascinating.

Having caught the dark naga up in his musical spell, Xandro entered the dark naga's cavern lair and circled around the serpentine beast; it followed his movements, turning its back on the fungal cavern passageway.  This allowed Thurloe, quietly sheathing his bastard sword, to enter the cavern, pick up Wakuren, and bring him quietly back into the relative safety of the fungal cavern, where he applied _Keoghtom's ointment_ to the stab-wound in the cleric-paladin's neck.  Wakuren's eyelids fluttered as he woke back up from his nightmarish sleep, the venom from the dark naga's stinger having been fully neutralized from his system.  In a whisper, Thurloe filled him in on the current state of affairs: Streggin and Alewyth's _spiritual warhammer_ taking care of the advancing kobolds, while Xandro held the dark naga enthralled by his music.

"Then let's get him while he's helpless," suggested Wakuren, activating his _ring of invisibility_ and stepping quietly back into the dark naga's cavern lair.  Thurloe motioned for Zander and Alewyth to join them, and they each quietly entered the naga's lair, weapons and spells at the ready.  Streggin was left alone to deal with the kobolds - Alewyth's _spiritual weapon_ spell finally ran its course and disappeared from existence - but he managed to hold his own even when they charged him and he had to drop his light crossbow and deal with them using his handaxe.  But then the dreamwalkers attacked all at once, Thurloe slicing deep into the dark naga's serpentine body with his bastard sword, Alewyth slamming _Sjondra_ in a bone-crunching overhead swing that shattered several vertebrae, Zander blasting it with a _scorching ray_ spell, and Wakuren bringing the point of his shield crashing down upon its skull (and reverting him to full visibility as a result).  Against such a coordinated attack, the dark naga didn't stand a chance; it died on the spot.

"Nice one, Xandro!" Zander called out.

"Hey, what's this?" asked Alewyth, looking at a pile of stones up against a wall.  The base was made up of a ring of ordinary stones, but they were used to prop up a larger stone, this one black with flecks of white and gold interspersed throughout.  "Is that dreamstone?"

Closer inspection confirmed it was indeed, and a much larger chunk than they'd ever seen before.  The group decided it must be tied in to the ones in the kobold statue in the chapel outside, and in that they were correct - the dark naga had learned to focus upon the dreamstone as it fell asleep, in such a fashion it was able to look out of the dreamstone eyes in the kobold statue, thus keeping an eye over the kobold chapel even while it slept.  And it found the lucid dreams, from the statue's visual point of view, to be very appealing, with dozens of kobolds chanting in unison as they seemingly worshiped the dark naga.  It was as close to godhood as the dark naga was ever going to get.

Zander saw a pool of water in a cavern to the north, with a short connecting passageway from the naga's lair.  To the east from this pool cavern was another sloping passageway, this one rising up higher than the chapel level.  "That's likely where the leaders of this kobold warren live," surmised the elf.

"Let's find out," suggested Wakuren, casting a summoning spell that brought an air-element hippogriff into existence, hovering over the pool.  With a pointed finger, Wakuren directed the hippogriff, whose body was composed of compressed winds from the Elemental Plane of Air, into the cavern.  The shrieks and yips that emanated revealed the accuracy of Zander's supposition, as the hippogriff made short work of the kobold leaders who had opted to remain in hiding while their lower, expendable minions dealt with the incursion into their warren.

Grabbing up the dreamstone from the naga's lair, Wakuren backtracked back to the temple, the others following.  They picked up Streggin along the way once the ranger had determined there were no more kobolds coming out to attack him from either tunnel.  Then, facing the kobold statue, Alewyth used a _soften earth and stone_ spell to more or less "melt" the carved kobold's head into clay, allowing them to pluck the chunks of dreamstone that had been embedded into the statue out.  The Queen of Dreams had sent them to fetch the two dreamstones and they'd be returning with three; not a bad haul!  Zander, being the skinniest of the group, made his way up a narrow kobold tunnel to check out the leaders' cavern, where he verified they'd all been slain by Wakuren's hippogriff; he also found quite a bit of treasure stashed up there, including a coveted magical haversack that held more than its external dimensions would indicate.  "That'll make hauling the dreamstones back even that much easier!" the elf sorcerer enthused.  Thurloe realized they already had the magical lamp, which was an extradimensional space, but didn't say anything to dampen the elf's enthusiasm.

"Now we just need to retrace our way back to the surface," Alewyth asserted.

"Sounds like a plan," Streggin agreed, ready to be off.  But Thurloe held him off with an alternate idea.  "This place has fresh water," he pointed out.  "It's fairly defensible, with plenty of ways to exit if anything comes heading our way we can't handle.  We might as well hold up here for the day, and get off on a fresh start in the morning.  That way we all start off with a full day's allotment of spells.  You never know when that will come in handy."

Streggin didn't mind; it meant another day's pay for him.  And there were blind fish in the pool of water he wouldn't mind having a go at catching; fresh fish while delving about in the Underdark was a rare treat.

And, as it turned out, the group would be plenty happy to have a full complement each of their spells in the morning, for the way back home wasn't going to be as easy as they might have hoped.

 - - -

I'm glad we had time to go through this adventure in the same gaming session as "Underdark Trails," because this, I felt, was a more "proper" adventure, whereas the first one was just a series of unrelated encounters taking advantage of an environment in which the PCs didn't get to spend a whole lot of time: deep underground.  And I had already planned that the next adventure would introduce them to a bunch of other creatures I was fairly certain none of them had ever encountered before - even Dan, who like me had been gaming since the AD&D first edition days.

Everyone leveled up to 8th level at the conclusion of this adventure.

 - - -

T-shirt worn: My USA shirt, because we went through this adventure on the same session as the previous one.


----------



## Richards (Oct 16, 2022)

*ADVENTURE 36: THE TEMPLE OF BURNING DESIRE*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 8​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 3/spellsword 2​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 4/paladin 4​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 6/rogue 2​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 8​
NPC Roster:
Streggin Cavedelver, dwarf ranger 3​​Game Session Date: 8 October 2022

- - -

"Let's go," said Thurloe, gathering up his pack and heading back out of the kobold warren.  "The sooner we get on our way, the sooner we're back to the surface."  It had been his idea yesterday to spend the rest of the day and the subsequent night in the kobold warren, to rest up and allow the spellcasters to regain a full complement of spells in the morning - and he'd even spent the day poring over the spellbooks he'd gathered over his adventuring career, making sense enough of the _summon monster II_ spell to figure out how to cast it on his own - but now it was the start of a new day and he was eager to leave the Underdark behind.

Besides, the kobold corpses were starting to stink.

Streggin, as their guide, led the way out of the warren, past the _deeper darkness_ zone and into the tunnel that went sideways, both north and south.  They'd come from the south and he led then back that way for only a short while before he held his hand up suddenly and brought the procession to an immediate halt.

"What is it?" asked Alewyth in a whisper.

"Thought I heard something ahead," Streggin replied.  Then, pointing down the corridor, he said in a hiss, "There!"

With her dwarven darkvision, Alewyth was able to see exactly what the ranger had been pointing at - a pair of duergar kavalrachni, mounted on the horse-sized spiders called steeders, crawling down the corridor and headed in their direction.  Then, looking up at the cavern ceiling above the two kavalrachni, Alewyth saw two more, the duergar and their mounts hanging upside-down from the ceiling and looking rather like an inverted reflection of the pair below.  But recent experience with these spider-riders had shown the duergar kavalrachni used an intricate saddle that kept them belted into place so that traveling along the ceiling was no more dangerous than riding right-side-up on the cavern floor.

The duergar had darkvision as keen as any surface dwarf and they spotted the six adventurers at the same time Streggin and Alewyth had noted them.  "There they are!" yelled one of them in the Dwarven tongue.  "Get them!"

"What's that?" asked Zander, who had heard the shout but hadn't made out what was being said, nor could he see who was down the corridor yelling at them.  Alewyth quickly brought those without the benefit of darkvision up to speed.  "More of those duergar riding giant spiders," she said.  "Four of each, headed this way."  Getting a grip on _Sjondra_, she faced the approaching gray dwarves without flinching, showing them she wasn't afraid.

Thurloe cast a _mage armor_ spell upon himself and stepped forward as he squinted past the edge of the illumination provided by Zander's _everburning torch_.  Xandro unpacked his _Dardolian lute_ and began playing his song of inspirational courage; after all, the enemy already knew where they were so a little music wasn't going to give away their position or anything.  And he knew the team fought better when buoyed up by the power of his song.  But unlike Thurloe, the bard took a few steps back, wanting to put a few of his friends - those better suited to hand-to-hand fighting - between him and the approaching foes.

The steeders moved forward with implacable determination.  As they entered the circle of illumination, Xandro and Thurloe could see each duergar had a lance projected in front of the steeder he rode but also carried a battleaxe in his right hand.  And as they got closer to the six heroes, the two on the ceiling each circled down along a different wall, falling into place behind the other pair of kavalrachni.  After all, there wasn't room for more than two of the steeders side-by-side in the tunnel, nor would hand-to-hand fighting be possible from the tunnel's ceiling.

The lead steeders rushed at Thurloe, their duergar riders leaning forward and swinging with their battleaxes as the spellsword raced forward himself, dodging the lances and purposefully getting in too close for the lengthy weapons to be able to be a factor.  But one battleaxe got past Thurloe's defense and he ended up with a gash along one arm.

Zander was even less of a melee combatant that Xandro; he cast a _haste_ spell while they were all close enough for him to still affect everyone, then stepped back out of immediate range of the spiders and their gray dwarf riders.  Alewyth also cast a spell on the assembled group - in her case, _bless_ - and then stepped forward to come to Thurloe's aid.  Streggin shot a crossbow bolt at one of the duergar attacking Thurloe, hitting him in the side.

Wakuren saw an opportunity and took it.  Raising his right hand, upon which he wore the _gauntlet of Cal_, he invoked the power of his god and a _javelin of lightning_ appeared in his upraised hand.  Hurling the weapon down the corridor, the _lightning bolt_ hit two steeders and the two duergar riding them, one of the gray dwarves being the one Streggin had just hit with his bolt.  That one died from the magical assault, but his special saddle kept him upright despite his death.

The two steeders bit at Thurloe; the spellsword successfully avoided one but couldn't prevent the other from getting its fangs into him.  He felt a burning sensation at the site of entry of the creature's mandibles and could already feel the venom start its work, making him feel sluggish, the weight of his bastard sword seemingly heavier in his hands.  But there was a way to overcome that; the spellsword activated his _torc of the titans_ and felt his missing strength return, if only for a brief moment - but long enough for him to swing his blade at the living duergar still within range.  In the meantime, another steeder crawled up the side wall to get to Wakuren, the fourth one following behind it.

Xandro pulled his _frost short sword_ from its scabbard and charged the spider whose rider had been slain, his blade slicing deep within a hairy, twitching leg.  The three duergar were quick to react with strikes from their battleaxes at Alewyth, Thurloe, and Wakuren.  Zander cast a _lightning bolt_ through two of the steeders and their riders, slaying the spider with the already-dead duergar and killing the duergar riding the spider behind that one.  That left only half of the duergar still alive with their mounts, as well as one extra steeder whose rider was now dead.

Streggin focused his aim at one of the remaining duergar, hitting him in the shoulder with a crossbow bolt.  Alewyth attacked the other one with _Sjondra_, her warhammer striking the gray dwarf in the side of his helmeted head.  Wakuren focused his attention - and the pointed bottom of his shield - on the head of the "extra" steeder, deeming the giant arachnids the bigger threat because of their venomous bites.  With the full power of an enraged half-orc behind it, the shield buried itself deep into the steeder's head and it died, legs twitching spasmodically.

Xandro got bitten by one of the two remaining steeders, while the other went after Thurloe but failed to get a grip on him with its venom-dripping mandibles.  But Thurloe took advantage of the steeder's nearness to activate another charge from his torc and lash out at its rider with his bastard sword, _Spellslicer_ cutting through the base of the duergar's throat and causing his life-blood to go spilling down his torso.  He slumped in the saddle, dead, but the oblivious steeder fought on.

Xandro cast a _magic missile_ spell at the steeders, splitting the attack between the two.  The missiles all hit, but the bard was disappointed to see neither steeder drop as a result.  The sole surviving duergar swung his battleaxe into Alewyth's side, her armor absorbing some - but not all - of the blow.  But then Zander took him out with a _magic missile_ spell and the two remaining steeders no longer had anyone guiding their actions with the control rods kavalrachni employed to tell their mounts where they wanted them to go.  Streggin shot at one steeder while Alewyth attacked the other with her warhammer.  Wakuren ran up beside her and added his shield to the assault, then cocked his head to one side - despite the battle going on all around him, he thought he could hear footsteps approaching from further down the tunnel, from the direction these four steeders had come.  Zander confirmed his findings with a shouted, "More gray dwarves on the way - lots of 'em!" to his friends, having picked up the sounds of the tramping of dozens, if not hundreds, of pairs of booted feet marching in unison.

"We need to retreat - this way!" shouted Streggin, pointing back the way they'd come; the map had them going back to the south but now that way was blocked by a duergar slaver army, so north would have to do.  Of course, none of the passageways to the north of the kobold warren were on the map the elderly dwarf from Agatesgate had hastily drawn up, so Streggin would have to rely upon his instincts to find them an alternate way back to the surface.

The steeders bit at Xandro and Thurloe again, but the two were already starting to retreat back the way they'd come.  "Hang on!" called back Thurloe to the others.  "Let's take these steeders out quick so they can't follow us!  They've got to be faster than duergar on foot!"  In this, he was absolutely correct, for the duergar were of dwarven stock and weren't able to move as fast as a human or an elf, let alone an eight-legged spider the size of a large horse.  Activating the last daily charge of his torc, the spellsword swung his bastard sword for all he was worth, killing the steeder that had been trying to bite him.  As it crashed to the stone floor of the tunnel, Thurloe turned and started to sprint to the north.  Xandro started jogging backwards away from the other steeder, casting a _magic missile_ spell at it and only turning to sprint after Thurloe once he saw the giant spider had been slain by his spell.  The others ran to follow, Streggin a bit distraught to note of the six people in his group, he was the slowest among them.  But that was alright, for they stopped at each fork in the tunnel to allow him to catch up and determine which way they should go next.  The sounds of pursuit were never far behind, though, and the dwarven ranger was well aware that what the gray dwarves lacked in speed they more than made up for in knowledge of the local terrain.  While Streggin was making his best educated guesses about which way was the best to go, the duergar no doubt knew exactly which passageways went where - and likely knew of any shortcuts that might allow them to cut the heroes off as they fled.  _That_ was not a pleasant thought!

"We can hide in the lamp!" suggested Wakuren.

"Too risky," shot down Thurloe.  "If they find it, we're done for.  And we don't have any way of seeing if the coast is clear when we're all inside.  We'd never know when it was safe to come back out."

"Then you all get inside and I'll pick up the lamp, turn invisible, and use _gaseous form_ to fly past them."

"If the whole slaver army's out," Streggin advised, "they're bound to have spellcasters.  They could likely detect you and probably dispel your magic.  Then we'd get to spend the rest of our lives as duergar slaves.  Better we keep running."

"What if we run into a dead end?" Wakuren countered.

"Then we can give your plan a try," suggested Streggin.  Wakuren just shrugged and kept running.

They had been running for at least a half an hour and could still hear the marching footsteps behind them when there was a reddish light from the tunnel ahead.  "Wait a minute - I think I know where we are!" Streggin wheezed, slowing to get his bearings and catch his breath.

"You've been here before?" prompted Alewyth.

"No, but I've heard of it.  A temple, carved among pools of magma."

"It's a way out?" asked Zander, whose frail constitution was already tired of all the running they'd been doing - he had a stitch in his side something fierce.  But Streggin was forced to admit he didn't know.

But the duergar apparently did.  "Hold up!" the group heard one of the gray dwarf leaders call back to his men.  "The temple denizens will make quick work of those surface-scum who killed our soldiers - and if not, they've got nowhere else to go but right back here, where we'll be ready for them!"

"Well, crap," said Thurloe, not liking the "temple denizens" part of that prediction.  Still, there was no way he wanted to face down an entire duergar slaver army; better to take their chances with whatever "temple denizens" might be around.  "Streggin, any idea what we'll be facing?"

"Nothing for certain," admitted the dwarf.  "But this is the Temple of Burning Desire - a shrine to Infernia, said to have been built centuries ago by a powerful wizard.  He built it here because there's supposed to be weak areas here between the Mortal World and the Elemental Plane of Fire."

"So we can expect to see fire creatures: elementals, that sort of thing?" surmised Alewyth.

"That would be my guess."

"Well, crap," Thurloe muttered again, going over a mental inventory of the spells he'd prepared that morning before setting out.  Nothing in the way of protection from fire, or even cold-based attack spells, which would likely be especially dangerous to creatures made of living flame.  Still, they might as well check the place out; maybe they'd get lucky and the elementals would have all gone home or something.  He pulled a _potion of neutralize poison_ from his belt and drank down its contents, so if any of the unknown dangers they'd be facing in this Temple of Burning Desire were venomous, he'd at least have a leg up in surviving the encounter.

Xandro, in the meantime, took the opportunity to cast a _cure light wounds_ spell on himself now that he had a moment's respite from the constant running.  The cuts in his skin where the steeder's mandibles pierced him and injected their venom healed up nicely.  Zander, his earlier _haste_ spell having worn off, cast an _expeditious retreat_ spell upon himself.  It was always to his benefit to be able to run faster than anything likely to be chasing him.

"Well, let's see what we're up against," suggested Streggin, leading the group into the natural caverns that comprised the Temple of Burning Desire.  There was a leaf-shaped pool of magma off to the left, and the tunnel curved off to the right just past it, and just beyond the turn there were another two long pits of magma, one on either side of the tunnel.  The passageway then opened up into a wider cavern, from which a much larger pool of magma to the southeast spilled into the larger space through a pair of jagged cracks in the floor.  The level of the magma was within a foot of the cavern's floor.

There was a blur of motion from the right as Streggin advanced past the turn in the tunnel; before he could spin in place and aim his crossbow at the small, gargoylelike figure flying down from the cavern ceiling above the magma pool, it dropped to his level, opened its maw wide, and let loose with a cone of steaming vapors, engulfing the dwarven ranger and Thurloe, who had followed him closely as he advanced.  Seeing combat was already starting this close to the entrance to the Temple, Alewyth cast a _magic circle against evil_ spell upon herself and moved up to join the others.  Wakuren did likewise, casting a _bull's strength_ spell upon himself and feeling the enhanced power flow through his muscles.  He'd already felt more physically powerful in recent days and wondered if Cal was sending him enhanced strength to deal with the travails he dealt with on a nearly daily basis as an adventurer.

From the pool behind them to the left, an impish figure rose up from the magma, its body seemingly composed of fluid, black rock with driblets of magma dripping through the cracks.  It also belched forth a breath weapon, this one a cone of magma spray that covered Wakuren's back, charring his armor and causing burning welts to rise up from his exposed skin.  He roared in pain and surprise, mentally chiding himself for not having given the magma pools a more careful visual examination as he passed them.

Another, similar creature dropped down from the cavern ceiling above the magma pool on the left just past the turn in the tunnel, only this creature seemed the most likely to be a fire elemental of sorts, for its gargoyle-shaped form was made up of living flame.  The fire mephit breathed forth a cone of flames that briefly encompassed Zander, singeing his robes and his hair.

However, once the initial surprise of these unexpected attacks had worn off, the adventurers quickly gave back as much or more than they'd taken.  Thurloe's bastard sword cleaved the steam mephit's body in two, causing it to lose full cohesion and scatter to the hazy air of the ceiling.  In the back ranks, Xandro cast a _heroism_ spell upon himself and moved up, ready for combat.  Zander cast another _magic missile_ spell, splitting the arcane projectiles between the magma and fire mephits, slaying both at the same time.  He then congratulated himself on a job well done in taking out two-thirds of this initial attack force all by himself, as Streggin pushed on ahead, crossbow still at the ready.

It turned out, though, that the elf's self-congratulation was a bit premature, for the three mephits were just the initial strike force, to "test the waters," as it were.  Three more steam mephits descended from the ceiling of the magma-flooded cavern from which the first one had come, surrounding Thurloe and blasting him with three cascades of steaming breath.  As Alewyth and Wakuren moved up, three more magma mephits arose from their pool of molten rock and sprayed their lava-breath at Xandro, Alewyth, and Thurloe, while a trio of fire mephits dropped down from the ceiling of their own side-cavern and concentrated their fire (quite literally) on the dwarven priestess.  None of the creatures was that much of a threat to the group singly, but in greater numbers their attacks were much more dangerous.

Thurloe's bastard sword killed another steam mephit, and then the spellsword took a step to the side, getting away from the deadly arc the three had formed around him.  Xandro's _frost short sword_ slew the closest magma mephit, whose fiery body froze up in death as it sank below the magma of its pool, never to rise again.  Zandro, whose greater speed had placed him in the far front of the group's formation, spun about and had a perfect _lightning bolt_ path lined up - only Thurloe was in the way.  "Thurloe - move to your left!" the elf called out, and as soon as the spellsword complied he let loose with his spell, slaying one each of the three types of mephit in one fell swoop.

Streggin shot at a magma mephit and hit, but was disappointed to see the creature yank the bolt from its shoulder and toss it disdainfully into the pool of magma from which it was emerging.  Thurloe cried out in sudden pain as a rainstorm of boiling water suddenly formed above him; he knew its cause by the sudden, evil gleam in the eyes of the pair of steam mephits still flying around the tunnel.  Alewyth killed a fire mephit with _Sjondra_, the mighty warhammer easily crushing its fiery body into embers and sending them flying from the force of the priestess's blow.  Wakuren slew a steam mephit with the side of his shield.

Having exhausted their most powerful attacks - which they could only use so often before needing to recharge - the two remaining magma mephits flew out of their pool and swiped their burning claws at Xandro.  The two fire mephits continued their attacks upon Alewyth, each sending a _scorching ray_ her way - one of which she was able to successfully dodge.  It seemed the heroes would be able to make short work of these mephits after all.

And then four more creatures entered the fray.  These four were each twice the size of the mephits, with glistening, hairless bodies dripping with magma as they rose out of the larger pool ahead to the right.  Each of the four spit a hunk of burning lava into its hand and then threw the burning mass at their nearest target: Wakuren.  This caused the lava children to giggle with frenzied delight at Wakuren's roars of pain as the hurled globules burned his flesh even more.

Thurloe didn't like the sheer numbers of enemies they were facing and decided to take out the ones in the back first so they couldn't attack the group from behind.  Casting a _magic missile_ spell from his wand, he slew the sole remaining magma mephit, causing it to fall lifelessly back into the pool from which it had come.  Zander, in the meantime, was much closer to the lava children and cast another _magic missile_ spell, splitting the projectiles between the two in the first row.  Streggin's follow-up crossbow bolt slew one of those two and it too sunk beneath the burning magma pool from which it had risen.

Alewyth took the time to cast a _prayer_ spell, aiding her allies' attacks while hindering those of their enemies.  Wakuren cast a _divine favor_ spell upon himself, boosting his combat abilities - and he was more than ready to dish out some physical damage to these creatures of fire!  Infernia might be a Goddess of Love, but his heart held nothing but hatred and contempt for the creatures infesting her Temple.  His hatred only intensified when the three remaining lava children rushed up out of the magma pool, clawing at the enraged half-orc with their burning claws.  Thurloe slew one of the bald, glistening menaces with another blast from his _wand of magic missile_.

Xandro stabbed at the last of the fire mephits with his _frost blade_, but missed outright.  It fled for the safety of the magma pool, diving beneath the molten rock where the heroes couldn't follow (and, over time, it could heal the wounds it had suffered at their hands).  "I'll get him if he resurfaces!" Streggin promised, pointing his crossbow at the spot where the fire mephit had submerged.  The bard, in the meantime, cast another of his _cure light wounds_ spells upon his burned and battered body.

Just beyond the cavern in which he, Wakuren, and Thurloe stood, Zander saw a natural stone bridge rise over another long magma pool, the bridge leading to a smaller cavern in which burned a blazing bonfire.  Off to the right of this cavern was an obviously carved passageway, inside of which sat a serpentine creature whose body blazed in flames, its upper torso not that dissimilar from that of an elf or a human, although it seemed to have a fin of flames running down its spine.  It carried a metal spear, glowing red-hot from the heat of the creature wielding it.  Zander was pretty sure he'd heard of these creatures before: salamanders, they were called, although they were nothing like the newtlike creatures of the same name with which the elf was much more familiar.  Fortunately, the salamander's back was turned to the elf, nor did it seem to hear the sounds of combat behind it; its full attention was focused upon a black disk embedded in the wall of the small chamber in which he sat.

Beyond the chamber with the bonfire, the stone floor ramped down into a much larger pool of magma, at the far side of which rose up a sort of "island" of stone, upon which had been carved an obsidian statue of the burning form of Infernia, identifiable by her body sheathed in flames and the two great, curving horns projecting from her forehead.  She had been carved leaning forward, holding out a bottle in one hand.

Alewyth advanced, catching up to the lava children right as Wakuren killed one with the sharp edge of his shield.  The other two each took a final swipe at the half-orc before fleeing back towards the relative safety of their magma pool.  But before either one of them could make it to safety, Thurloe slew one with another charge from his _wand of magic missile_, focusing all of the arcane projectiles into the one target.  Xandro stepped up to the spellsword and, seeing his wounds, cast a _cure moderate wounds_ spell upon him.  Alewyth took the moment's respite to cast a similar spell upon herself.

Looking around the magma pool ahead and the bridge that spanned it (the elf noticed that unlike a manufactured bridge, this natural span had no "handrails" or anything preventing someone from falling over the side to their death) and saw a pair of creatures flying around at the top of the ceiling.  These were no steam mephits like before, though: they were skeletal from the waist up, their lower bodies ending in trails of mist and sparking embers.  The cinder ghouls dropped in elevation, coming down lower, the elf sorcerer feared, so they could attack the intruders in this Temple of Burning Desire.  "It will do you no good," one cinder ghoul whispered in the Dwarven tongue.  "There are too many guardians, too many defenses.  If you try to reach the bottle in the statue's hand and gain your wish, you will be slain...like us."  Zander, who understood the dwarven language, surmised these apparitions were some sort of undead creatures that had likely been duergar in life, which could possibly explain the duergar army's hesitance to follow the group into the confines of the Temple.

Wakuren raced after the remaining lava child, trying to smash its skull in with his shield before it could escape back into the magma pool, and this time the half-orc's rage worked against him, for he swung too soon and sent himself reeling off to the side, off-balance as a result of the swing and the miss.  The lava child, just to be nasty, took a final moment to claw parallel lines of pain down the half-orc's arm before diving into the magma pool.  Wakuren roared in frustration.

The two cinder ghouls surrounded Zander, one dissipating into a cloud of smoky vapors and flying directly at his face, entering the sorcerer's body through his nostrils and mouth.  Zander immediately fell into a coughing fit at this intrusion, making him unable to prevent the other one from attacking him with its claws and stealing away some of his vitality.  Seeing this, Thurloe cast a _protection from evil_ spell upon himself and ran up to help his elven friend.  Xandro pulled out his _Dardolian lute_ and began the chords to his song of inspirational courage.  Eventually, Zander managed to cough the cinder ghoul's vaporous form out of his lungs and staggered away weakly, casting a _magic missile_ spell at the other one, who had thus far maintained its partially-solid, skeletal form.

Alewyth presented her holy symbol of Aerik and called out, "Begone, foul beings!" as she tried turning the two undead forms, channeling positive energy through her body and sending it across the chamber to the floating cinder ghouls.  But her attempt met only in failure; undeterred, the dwarven priestess advanced, _Sjondra_ held in her other hand.  If one weapon failed, she'd give the other a try....

Wakuren raced up and brought his _shield of Cal_ smashing through the vaporous form of the cinder ghoul who had trespassed into Zander's lungs, just as it was regaining a more solid form (at least from the waist up).  The attack sent the newly-reformed bones of its skeletal torso flying in all directions and the half-orc congratulated himself on having slain one of these two strange types of undead.  The other cinder ghoul tried clawing at him, but Wakuren caught the attack on the flat of his shield.

However, the lava child popped its head up from its magma pool at that point, spit into his hand, and tossed the glob of molten rock at Alewyth, who happened to be a closer target than Wakuren.  It was a move generated out of hatred for the intruders, and it was one that cost the lava child his life, for Zander blasted him with a _lightning bolt_ and he died with a wicked grin still plastered on his face at the success of his surprise attack against Alewyth.  Thurloe cast a _shield_ spell upon himself from his wand, while Xandro used his _frost short sword_ against the cinder ghoul attacking Wakuren and discovered these vaporous creatures didn't like the cold energy from his blade any more than had any of the other fire-based creatures they'd met up with thus far in the Temple.

Closer now to her target, Alewyth tried another turning attempt, and this time the positive energy she channeled through her holy symbol had the desired effect: the cinder ghoul jolted as if physically struck, turned to face the priestess, and then fled at full speed across the ramp into the larger magma pool, to cower against the wall to the left of the statue of Infernia.

But as all of this had taken place on the natural stone bridge cresting over the magma pool just to the south of the blazing bonfire, the salamander finally became aware of the commotion outside his extraplanar chamber, where the black disk he'd been staring at occasionally opened up to the Elemental Plane of Fire, the place to which he desperately wished to return - it was _cold_ here, and while his curiosity had drawn him to explore this strange world, he'd had quite enough of it.  But, curiosity once again compelling him, he slithered out of the chamber and saw a group of a half-dozen local denizens of this world.  A look of confusion crossed his features: now what?  There had been sporadic incursions from the locals into the Temple during the weeks the salamander had been here, some seeking treasure, others seemingly content just to slay whatever creatures they could find.  He raised his spear, pointing it towards the closest of these intruders.

Thurloe's actions didn't do anything to allay the salamander's suspicions about the ruthlessness of the local denizens of this mortal plane: the spellsword cast a _ray of enfeeblement_ spell that struck the salamander in the chest and immediately robbed him of his physical vigor.  Xandro cast a _cure light wounds_ spell on Zander, and then the elf sorcerer followed up with a _ray of enfeeblement_ spell of his own, such that the weary salamander could now barely even lift the metal spear he relied upon as his primary weapon and means of defense.

Fortunately for the salamander, the next attack upon his person was a spell from Alewyth: a _dismissal_ spell that returned him to his own plane of existence.  Upon realizing the effect of this "attack," the words - in the Ignan language, which sounded like nothing so much as the sounds of crackling flames to the dwarven priestess - "Thank you" spilled from the salamander's lips as he vanished from the mortal plane.  There had been no telling how much longer he'd have had to wait for the _planar gate_ to open back up to the Elemental Plane of Fire; this way was so much easier.

As the salamander was now gone and the only remaining cinder ghoul was cringing along the back wall, Wakuren took a moment to cast a _cure moderate wounds_ spell upon himself, healing over the worst of the burns and gashes he'd received.  Thurloe approached the bonfire, suspicious as was his nature, for he saw nothing fueling the flames.  He was well aware the Underdark had a distinct scarcity of trees like the surface world, and he also knew there were magical ways to generate a burning flame like the one before him, but he also knew this could also be some sort of trap, if not some sort of flame-based creature itself.  But, having attended to Zander's wounds, Xandro stepped up behind the spellsword and cast a _cure light wounds_ spell on him.

Zander activated the full power of his _scout's headband_ and looked around, his vision now powered with _true seeing_.  With the ability to now see things as they truly were, he could see perfectly well that the bonfire was indeed a large fire elemental, but one content to just remain in place and not bother anyone.  He stepped forward by the large pool of magma and saw three shapes beneath its surface, two of them about his own size and one much, much larger.

Voicing what he'd seen to the others, Zander stepped aside as Wakuren walked boldly down the ramp, stopping just short of entering the molten rock.  The two smaller shapes were the first to break the surface; these were humanoid in build but covered in molten lava and burning flames.  They each took tentative steps towards the half-orc, hands outraised as if trying to grab him up into their fiery embrace.

As Xandro picked back up his song of inspirational courage, Thurloe cast a _magic missile_ spell at the first of the fire phantoms.  Alewyth summoned forth a _spiritual weapon_, causing the warhammer of solid force to go crashing into the fiery body of the second phantom.  Neither attack stopped them from moving forward, but fortunately they didn't move all that fast and Wakuren was able to stay out of the grasp of them both.  Then, taking a step backwards up the sloping ramp, Wakuren cast his own _spiritual weapon_ spell, sending his heavy mace crashing into the face of the one Thurloe had hit with his _magic missile_ spell.  And it was then that the third form rose up out of the magma, directly in front of the half-orc.

The creature had the shape of a giant snake, or perhaps it was more like a sea serpent, for all the heroes could see of it was a long neck and a wedge-shaped head with a mouth full on sharp teeth.  It darted forward at Wakuren, snapping its black teeth at him, but he dodged back in time and the jaws snapped shut on empty air.

Thurloe continued his _magic missile_ assault on the fire phantom he'd originally targeted, while Xandro continued playing his inspirational tune on his magic lute, well back from the fiery attackers.  Zander cast a _bear's endurance_ spell upon himself and backed up out of range himself.  Then, in a sudden burst of speed, the fire elemental lunged out and grabbed at Alewyth, having been instructed to do so by the silent mental summons of the serpentine lava weird from the magma pool before it.  Alewyth rolled to the side and summoned an elemental of her own to protect her, this one from the Elemental Plane of Earth.  It wasn't particularly impressive, standing not even as tall as the dwarf, but it positioned itself between her and the fire elemental and was ready to give its all to see to her protection.  And behind her, Alewyth's _spiritual warhammer_ continued its attack upon the fire phantom it had first attacked, not having been given any orders to the contrary.

One of the fire phantoms waded up onto the sloping ramp and approached Alewyth.  In a flash that belied its small size, the earth elemental interposed itself between this new threat and its mistress, slamming the flaming undead thing with its stony fists.  The fire phantom returned the attacks, although the elemental's rocky build was not particularly flammable and it had not much to fear from the flames engulfing the undead foe.  The other fire phantom reached up at Wakuren, but he managed to block the attack on his shield.

To the cleric-paladin of Cal, however, the fire phantom was a mere distraction: Wakuren wanted to take out the lava weird that had tried to bite him.  Channeling all of his prodigious strength into an overhead blow, he brought his shield down upon the lava weird's head, cracking open its rocky outer surface and causing it to leak lava, which the half-orc hoped was the equivalent of a bleeding head wound that had opened up his foe's skull.  The lava weird snapped its jaws at its half-orc foe but once again Wakuren was quick enough to avoid being bitten.

Thurloe pumped another _magic missile_ spell into the fire phantom he'd been fighting, as Xandro pulled out his _frost short sword_ and stabbed it deep into the fire elemental intent upon attacking Alewyth.  Zander aided the bard's efforts with a _magic missile_ spell of his own, but not before the burning creature brought its flaming fists down upon the dwarven priestess, hitting her hard and setting her cloak ablaze.  But the dwarf took that all in stride, spinning about and slamming the fire elemental with _Sjondra_ before taking the time to release the cloak's clasp and let it fall to the stone floor behind her.  Also behind her, the small earth elemental continued pounding on the fire phantom intent upon reaching Alewyth.

The fire phantoms continued their own attacks with their flaming fists, one still trying to get to Wakuren and the other fighting the earth elemental.  Wakuren ignored the attack from the flaming humanoid, concentrating on another devastating strike with the pointed bottom of his shield, which hit the lava weird on the top of its already-damaged head and split the rent there even farther.  Wakuren had to dance back up the ramp as the lava weird collapsed onto the sloping ramp before him, then slowly slid back into the magma pool, unmoving and no longer alive.

Thurloe's next _magic missile_ spell killed the fire phantom engaged in battle with Alewyth's earth elemental, at just about the same time Xandro's _frost blade_ took out the fire elemental, which seemed to go out like a campfire doused by a bucket of water.

Despite most of the fiery foes having been taken care of, Zander was feeling particularly vulnerable, so he cast a new spell for the first time: _stoneskin_, which covered him in a protective sheath that would deflect the majority of most physical attacks made against him.  He would discover later just how expensive a spell that would prove to be, as casting it devoured all of the diamond dust he carried in his spell component pouch.

The earth elemental continued its attacks on the sole remaining fire phantom, and with a bit of redirection there were now two _spiritual weapons_ focused upon taking it out as well.  Wakuren, still stoked at having slain the lava weird by himself, turned his attention on the undead thing beside him and provided the killing blow to it.  Thurloe killed the cowering cinder ghoul with a _magic missile_ spell just so they wouldn't have to worry about it snapping out of its fear of Aerik's holy symbol.

And then the heroes found themselves no longer in combat for the first time since stepping into the Temple of Burning Desire.

"So now what?" asked Alewyth.  "This looks t' be a dead end.  Are we going to have to turn around and face that duergar army after all?"

"Maybe not," replied Zander, telling the others what the cinder ghouls had whispered to him about the "wish" in the bottle in the hand of the statue of Infernia.  Looking across the magma pool, they could see there was in fact some sort of bottle held in her outstretched hand.

"I'll send me bee t' go fetch it!" announced Alewyth, summoning forth the giant bee imprisoned in her _amber amulet of vermin_.  The bee manifested in the air and at Alewyth's direction flew over to the statue and landed on the bottle.  "Bring it back here!" Alewyth directed, but the insect just crawled back and forth over the bottle (and Infernia's hand), as if in puzzlement.

"I don't think the bottle detaches," observed Xandro.

"Hang on," replied Wakuren, fetching the _rope of climbing_ from his pack.  Holding onto one end, he commanded the magic rope to go attach itself to Infernia's outstretched wrist.  While it did so, Thurloe began pounding a piton into the ground by the top of the sloping ramp and securely tied the end of the _rope of climbing_ in place.  Then, once it was secure, he used his own length of rope to attach around his waist and the _rope of climbing_.  Finally, with precautions in place to prevent him from falling into the magma pool if he lost his grip, Thurloe climbed over to the statue of Infernia.

"Bottle's attached to the statue," Thurloe called over to the others.  "But it's got a removable stopper."

"You know what this is?" asked Xandro.  "It's a genie bottle!  Release the genie, make a _wish_ to get back to the surface!"

"In this place, probably an efreet," corrected Thurloe - and that proved to be the case.  After having decided upon what exact wording to use (for wish-granting creatures like genies were often said to warp the wishes of foolish mortals when possible), Thurloe pulled the cork from the _iron flask_ embedded into the Infernia statue and was immediately rewarded by a blast of smoke shooting directly into his face.  Thurloe winced but held his grip, and the smoke flew out into the open air above the magma pool and coalesced into the form of a hovering, red-skinned giant with horns protruding from his head.

"WHAT IS YOUR WISH?" demanded the efreet, glaring down at the mortals gathered below him.

"The six of us wish to be teleported, safely, along with all of our possessions and gear, back up to the dwarven surface city of Agatesgate," Thurloe replied.

"SIMPLICITY ITSELF," scoffed the efreet, waving his hand as if shooing away an irritating insect.  Just that quickly, the five heroes, their dwarven ranger guide, the _rope of climbing_ and the giant bee, even Thurloe's piton - all vanished from the area.  Looking over his handiwork with an appraising eye, the efreet nodded to himself in approval, turned back into a column of smoke, and returned to the _iron flask_ in Infernia's outstretched hand.

- - -

I wrote this adventure with two goals in mind: I wanted to force the PCs to find a different way back to the surface (it's not a whole lot of fun and excitement going back the same way you came, having already cleared the path of any obstacles two days ago) and it gave me an opportunity to use some fire-based creatures the players had never met up with before.  And my son Logan has a 5-inch tall female fire elemental miniature based on the same image he'd used for Infernia back in our Wing Three campaign (when she was the fire elemental familiar of his wizard Telgrane), which I used for the Infernia statue at the end of the Temple of Burning Desire.

We had a bit of a surprise during this game session, as not only did Joe join us (it was a three-day weekend so he drove home to his parents' house and decided he'd run his own PC, Zander Quilson, instead of having his dad run him for him as we did the previous session), but Joe's older brother Jacob also came to see how we were all doing.  Jacob gamed with us during the Wing Three and Kordovian Adventurers Guild days, so we turned over the Streggin NPC sheet for him to use.  He stuck around until the fight with the mephits, then had to leave to go deal with some scheduled stuff at his old work (turning in a laptop, I believe), but I could tell gaming with us again had him remembering how much fun our two families have together.  I wouldn't be surprised if we see a bit more of Jacob in the days to come, now that he's living back in the same general area as the rest of us.  (He quit our campaigns when he moved off to college, and now that's all behind him.)

- - -

T-shirt worn: My TSR 25th Anniversary T-shirt, for two reasons: it's gray, like the stone of the Underdark, and one of the D&D monsters depicted on it is a salamander.


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## Richards (Oct 28, 2022)

*ADVENTURE 37: THE BLOOD DIAMOND*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 8​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 3/spellsword 2​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 4/paladin 4​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 6/rogue 2​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 8​
Game Session Date: 22 October 2022

 - - -

Once again back in the dwarven mining city of Agatesgate, the five heroes paid Streggin Cavedelver for his services and went off to find Scarlie Besker.  He was in the inn where they'd rented a room for him, enjoying a dwarven ale.  "Hey, you're back!" he said, finishing up his drink.  "We ready to move on to the next village?"

"Not quite," replied Alewyth.  "We need to head back to Basutra."

"Back?  Why?  Somebody else fall asleep there and get stuck in their dreams?"

"No, but there's a shrine of Delphyne there and we can use it to teleport back to Baron's Haven, where we have some business there that will likely take a couple of days at the very least.  But I'm afraid we can't take the wagon or animals with us, so we'll need you to stay behind with them again in Basutra."

"Hey, if they got ale in Basutra, I'll be fine holing up there for as long as you need."  Alewyth frowned at the half-orc's obvious addiction to alcoholic beverages, but she loosened up when they went to the stables to retrieve their wagon and animals and she saw he'd taken good care of Pyrite and the horses and mules.  Saddling up, they turned about and headed back the way they had come, returning to Basutra, the city where they'd had the run-in with the werewasp.  Thurloe spent the day in the back of the wagon, poring over the various spellbooks he'd acquired from the evil wizards they'd fought over his short adventuring career, trying to make sense of them.  By the time they hit Basutra two days later, he had the grasp of a new summoning spell which would allow him to draw forth a creature from another entire plane of existence to serve him for a brief period of time.  He'd seen Wakuren and Alewyth summon celestial bison and the half-orc had even figured out some way to bring forth a hippogriff made up of elemental winds; Thurloe was eager to be able to wield such magic himself.

Once they got the animals stabled and Scarlie tucked away into a comfortable inn (where he immediately went to the bar and ordered the first of no doubt many beers), the five made their way to the shrine to Delphyne, Goddess of Magic. Opening the hidden door behind the statue of the goddess, they flipped through the pages of the book attached to a podium until they found the one showing the statue of Delphyne in her shrine in Baron's Haven. Below the drawing were the following letters:



> B H R I N E H O V E N
> T A G O E S N A Y E L




Fortunately, they already knew the trick to this particular passphrase.  Starting with the "B" in the top left corner and "bouncing" up and down from left to right until hitting the end and returning back the other way, the group found the passphrase.  Alewyth said aloud, "Baron's Haven ley one eight" and the five of them disappeared, stepping out into the Temple of Delphyne in Baron's Haven.

"Now remember, they don't allow public spellcasting here," Zander told the others.

"You already reminded us," Thurloe groused.  "That's why I'm wearing my breastplate instead of relying upon a _mage armor_ spell I won't be allowed to cast."  Despite having been initially trained to fight with his bastard sword while wearing armor, since learning the spellsword arts he'd gone without, as the armor sometimes made it more difficult to cast spells.  But he figured here in this backwards city he wouldn't be casting any spells in any case - he didn't want to get hauled before the magistrate again and sentenced to clearing out rubble from collapsed wizards' towers or anything.  Once had been enough of that!

"But we're forgetting something else," Xandro pointed out.  "We're wanted criminals here, remember?  Apparently the Baron was none too pleased about us killing a bunch of his undead soldiers."

"Oh, yeah," Alewyth recalled.

"We should be fine," Thurloe scoffed.  "As long as we stay out of sight of the hobgoblin guards the Baron sent after us, it seems like the local human population was quite okay with us taking down a bunch of undead abominations.  Remember that 'warning' we got from those human guards as we were leaving town?"

"All the same, I stand out like a sore thumb," replied Wakuren - as indeed he did, being no doubt the only half-orc in the whole city (if not the continent) parading around in the armor and tabard of a cleric-paladin of Cal, God of the Air and of Healing.  Activating his _ring of invisibility_, he disappeared from view.  "The four of you blend in a lot better without me," he told the others.

"And you know, you look a lot better this way!" joked Thurloe.  As the half-orc was invisible, the spellsword was unable to see the momentary look of fury crossing Wakuren's unseen face before he was able to master his anger.

They recalled the location of Iriadorrista's shop, for the elven gemcutter had done the carving on the smaller dreamstones they'd each had incorporated into their primary items: Thurloe's bastard sword _Spellslicer_; Alewyth's dwarven warhammer _Sjondra_; Zander Quilson's _jade cooshee_; Wakuren's _shield of Cal_; and Xandro's _Dardolian lute_.  But Iriadorrista apparently remembered them just as well, for her face broke into a welcoming smile when she saw them enter her shop.  "You're back!" she said.  "But there's one less of you!"

"I'm right here," Wakuren said, dismissing his _invisibility_ and finding himself inordinately pleased that the good-looking elf maiden had recognized his absence.  Alewyth removed the _Haggoth's handy haversack_ from her back and pulled out the three dreamstones they'd rescued from the kobold warren.  Thurloe also retrieved the drawings he'd made while sound asleep, his body on the Mortal Plane mirroring the actions he took in the Dreamlands under the supervision of the Queen of Dreams herself.  The parchment drawing showed how the three rough dreamstone chunks were to be sliced into five roughly petal shapes, and the runes to be carved into each.  Iriadorrista took them into a side room where she often consulted with clients and looked over the drawings and the three chunks of dreamstone.  "I can do this, sure," she agreed.  "They'll be ready the day after tomorrow, if that works for you."

"That will be fine," Wakuren replied, giving the elf his best smile - one where his lips covered the slight tusks growing up from his lower jaw, which often caused others a bit of fright.

"In return, I wonder if you might be willing to do me a little favor," Iriadorrista asked.  She then explained an issue she had with a recent customer.  "This man came in yesterday with a blood diamond," she said.  "He asked me to carve a rune into it, we agreed upon a price, and I told him it would be done today by noon.  However, after I closed the shop yesterday and went to begin work on his gemstone, the very touch of it made me feel...uncomfortable.  It was as if...as if the thing were emanating a palpable sense of evil.  I know that sounds silly...."

"Not at all," reassured Wakuren.

"In any case, I decided I wouldn't be doing the work after all.  He should be here in the next half hour or so, and while I have *Hal* here for security" - here she indicated the human security guard who stood in the front corner of the shop to deter theft - "I wouldn't mind it at all if there were five seasoned adventurers like yourselves on hand when I tell the wizard I won't be doing his job like I had said."

"We'd be happy to help," Wakuren replied on behalf of the entire group, his chest puffed out at having been described as a "seasoned adventurer" - he certainly liked the sound of that!  "May we see this blood diamond?" he asked.

"Certainly," Iriadorrista answered, nipping off to the back room where she did the actual gemcutting and returning with a small, wooden box.  She opened it up, revealing a red diamond the size of a thumbnail.  "This is what he wanted carved onto it," she added, holing out a sheet of folded parchment.

Thurloe grabbed up the sheet, opened it, and grunted.  "This rune - it means 'life eternal,'" he told the others.  "Wizard dude's probably got plans to turn himself into a lich, and this, no doubt, is to be his phylactery."

"It's evil," Wakuren said, having actually winced at the level of evil emanating from the red gem.

"Do you have any other red diamonds you could swap with this one?" Zander asked.

Iriadorrista shook her head.  "Blood diamonds are very rare," she explained.  "I have diamonds this size, but they aren't red like this one.  And I have red gemstones, but they aren't diamonds.  I'm afraid if we tried exchanging this for another, he'll see right through the attempt."

"If he's somehow infused this with evil, he'll know any fake we give him isn't the same gemstone," Wakuren agreed.  "You said he'll be here soon?"  The gemcutter agreed, then further agreed to allow the five heroes to use the conference room off to the side of the shop to make their preparations.  In the meantime, she had her salesgirl, a young elf named *Kiirinarra*, help her bring the dreamstones into the workshop through the door behind the sales counter.

Inside the conference room, with the door closed, the heroes made their "preparations" all right - but they consisted of spellcasting they didn't want either of the elven women to see them perform; better they have plausible deniability if the heroes were accused of illegal spellcasting within the city limits.  But once they had all cast the spells they wanted in place, Wakuren opened the door again so they could see the sales counter.  Iriadorrista and Kiirinarra took their places and waited the customer's return.

They didn't have long to wait.  No more than five minutes later, a bald man with a dark moustache and goatee walked boldly into the shop, heading directly to the counter.  He didn't even bother glancing over at Hal, the human guard, nor did he look over at the conference room where the five heroes stood, ready for trouble.  "Do you have my blood diamond?" he demanded, reaching down for a coin purse at his belt.

"I have it right here," Iriadorrista replied, taking the wooden box from the shelf behind the counter and placing it within reach, along with the folded parchment.  "But I'm afraid I will not be able to perform the work we had discussed."

"What?  Why ever not?" demanded *Corbin Mallaxus*, his dark eyebrows furrowed in anger.

"It doesn't matter why not," replied Wakuren, stepping forward.  "The lady will not be preparing your phylactery for you.  And I would like to discuss your intentions as they might pertain to lichdom."  A quick perusal of the man's aura confirmed to the half-orc he was every bit as evil as the blood diamond he had brought to the shop.

"My intentions are none of your business!" retorted Corbin, snatching up his wooden box and his parchment.  He didn't even bother opening the box to ensure his blood diamond was in there; he either trusted the shopkeeper wouldn't have tried anything or had some way to sense its presence unseen.  But the other four heroes stepped out of the conference room, hands on weapons.  Corbin, apparently not liking the five-to-one odds (six-to-one if you counted Hal), turned back to face Iriadorrista.  "I shall have to take my business to a more reputable gemcutter, I see!" he snorted in disgust, then turned on his heels and made to depart the store.  Wakuren placed a hand on the wizard's shoulder but it was brushed away.

"Quick - inside the lamp!" demanded Wakuren, placing it on the floor.  As the others touched the lamp and said "eintret," they were immediately shunted into the extradimensional interior of the living quarters originally crafted by the night hag Hesperna.  Then Wakuren scooped up the lamp and, activating his _ring of invisibility_, faded from view.  He stepped outside the gem shop just in time to see Corbin Mallaxus turn the corner into an alleyway.  But by the time Wakuren had run to the corner, the wizard was gone - no doubt having followed their own course of action and cast a spell within the city limits once in a place he wouldn't be seen doing so.  Wakuren couldn't be sure of what spell had been cast - _teleport_?  _dimension door_? - but whatever it was, there was no way to follow Corbin Mallaxus now.  Wakuren set down the lamp, deactivated his ring, and entered the lamp to tell the others they could come out now and that Mallaxus had eluded the half-orc.

Returning to Iriadorrista's shop, they reported what had happened and suggested she send word to the other gemcutters in the city about Mallaxus and his evil blood diamond.  "Good idea: I'll write up some quick notes and have them delivered by messenger," she promised.  Then, with two days to kill, the heroes made their way back to the Merry Minstrel Inn, where they'd stayed the last time they were in town.  Xandro was friends with the owner, Jorbalee Bennicut, and she was more than happy to get him a single room (as they'd all really be staying inside the lamp's extradimensional interior) and hire his services as the evening's entertainment.  They found out Tommy, the orphan they'd rescued from his uncle and put into Jorbalee's care, was doing fine in his new circumstances.  "He's been a bit help," Jorbalee assured them.

At their request, Jorbalee opened the small room in which she'd placed the famed bard Carmen Melodius, one of the three dreamers the five dreamwalkers had thus far been unable to awaken.  She was still asleep, the leather headband they'd put around her temple to keep the dreamstone in place on her forehead exactly as they'd placed it.  "Shall we give it another shot?" asked Alewyth.  "It's been a month or so since we last tried."

"Worth a shot, I suppose," admitted Thurloe, and the five took their places around Carmen's bed, sitting in a circle and slowing their breathing, each wearing a dreamstone on their own brow.  Within moments, they were all asleep and back in the Dreamlands.

"Good luck, kupo!" said Mogo after his dreamwalker students told him what they wanted to do.  But while they had indeed grown a bit in power since the last time they had entered Carmen's ongoing dream, the end result was still the same: the giant ape made quick work of them, tearing their dream-bodies apart with his bare hands and his massive teeth, causing them to be forced awake.  After two further attempts, they gave it up.  "Still got a way to go, I guess," sighed Zander.

"We should try to find out what we can about that bald wizard," Alewyth suggested.  "I don't like the idea of him becoming a lich."  At her prompting, they asked around if anybody knew the wizard and eventually Xandro hit pay dirt, not only finding out the wizard's name but the address where he lived.  It was in the better part of town, among the more well-to-do.  "Let's go check it out!" the bard enthused.  Wakuren once again faded from view as they walked the streets of Baron's Haven into the more respectable part of the city.  And they did find the Mallaxus estate: it was rather hard to miss, for the ten-foot-tall hedges flanking his property were distinctive enough to call attention to it.  There was but a single entrance: a pair of tall, thick gates that bore the Mallaxus family crest.  But trying to peek through the thick hedges was problematic, giving only the barest view of what seemed to be a single-story structure in the middle of the property.  "I kind of expected a tall, wizard's tower," Alewyth admitted.

"Guy likes his privacy," Thurloe grunted.

"Let's go check it out," Wakuren said from behind them.  Hesperna's lamp suddenly appeared on the street beside them, the invisible half-orc having placed it there and stepped away.  "I have a _gaseous form_ spell that will get me over the hedges," he said.  "We can take a peek through his house, see what all he's up to.  If he's planning lichdom, he's probably up to something no good."

"That's technically illegal," Zander pointed out.  "We don't have any authorization to go sneaking into his house."

"We're already technically outlaws here," Xandro replied.  The bard touched the lamp and, saying the command word, disappeared inside.  Sighing, the elf followed suit, with Alewyth and Thurloe right behind him.  When all four of them were inside, Xandro added, "The bad thing about this type of plan is we have no way of seeing what's going on outside while Wakuren goes exploring."

"We could stay behind," Alewyth pointed out, "but then if he runs into any trouble we wouldn't be there to come to his aid."

"But we wouldn't even know to come to his aid in the first place," argued Xandro.  "That's the whole problem with this setup."

Wakuren, however, saw no problem with his plan.  Casting his spell right there on the street (while invisible, so he was fairly certain he wouldn't get caught), he - and the lamp he held in his hands - turned to a vaporous gas and wafted over the thick hedges flanking Corbin Mallaxus's property.  As he lowered his elevation onto the grounds surrounding the little dwelling, Wakuren saw the wizard employed a set of guards.  This pair stood motionlessly, one on either side of the house.  Curious, the gaseous half-orc altered his path to get a close-up look at one of them.

At first, Wakuren thought he was dealing with a mummy, for the figure was wrapped head to toe in linen bandages.  But as he got closer, he saw not only flesh beneath the bandages that showed an unhealthy coloration, but a great deal of stitches holding the skin together.  The fact the "mummy" gave off no aura of evil whatsoever led Wakuren to the belief he was looking not at an undead mummy but a bandage-wrapped flesh golem.  Both were made of reanimated flesh, but a flesh golem was given life by an elemental spirit rather than that of the person who had once worn that dead flesh.  In any case, Wakuren had no desire to deal with the flesh golem guardians and instead made a full circuit around the house, finding only a front door and another to the side - no windows at all in his house; that was a bit suspicious!  Given the building was a single structure flanked on all sides by 10-foot-tall hedges, it certainly seemed as if Corbin Mallaxus didn't want any neighbors seeing what he was up to.

Wakuren sent his vaporous form gliding underneath the front door, glad to see it wasn't airtight.  Looking about, he saw he was in a main room lit by _everburning torches_, which made sense given the wizard's human visual limitations and the lack of natural light brought about by the total lack of windows.  There was an open doorway to a kitchen to the left and beyond that a dining area; Wakuren checked them both out but they were empty.  Retracing his path, he flowed underneath another door, this time finding himself in a simple bedroom.  The bedroom was austere, with a single bed trunk, and a garderobe along one wall; the half-orc was glad the _gaseous form_ spell prevented him from being able to smell, for he doubted the bedroom smelled very nice while connected to a latrine pit.  There was another door at the northeastern corner of the room, which if Wakuren was picturing things correctly, lined up rather nicely with the side door, attached to a short projection along the eastern side of the building he suspected led to a stairwell leading down to a lower level.  Instinctively sensing for evil, he was surprised when he got a strong reading coming from the other side of the door, this one just as strong as the auras from Corbin Mallaxus and his blood diamond.

Wakuren backtracked the way he had come, exiting the dwelling by flowing out underneath the front door and floating around to the side door.  He got the same reading from this door and idly wondered if there was some sort of trap in place.  If so, there was only one way to find out: flowing underneath the door, Wakuren got his answer, for standing there at the top of the stairs was a thin-bodied creature with large, batlike ears and a pair of wings equally suited to a bat, although this being had a separate pair of humanoid arms ending in clawed fingers.  Wakuren couldn't recall if this was an imp or a quasit; then, noting the creature's greenish-gray coloration (and vaguely recalling imps as having red skin), he settled into the assumption (for now) that this was a quasit, and Corbin's familiar.  He'd have to check with Thurloe to find out for sure; the spellsword studied such things.

Then Wakuren noted something he should have paid attention to right away: the quasit, or whatever it was, seemed to be staring right at him with a quizzical expression on its face.  Could it see him, even though he was fully invisible and under the effects of a _gaseous form_ spell?  Experimentally, Wakuren shifted to the left and then to the right; the homunculus followed his every move.  Well, that answered that, then - although there wasn't much Wakuren could do about it.  Wordlessly, he allowed himself to float down the stairs to the lower level, the homunculus following behind inquisitively.

The room at the bottom of the steps was a library, complete with a small desk containing a book bound in black leather.  There were two closed doors leading into other rooms; heading south, Wakuren slid his vaporous body beneath the door and found himself in a workroom of sorts, with several tables containing various projects in different states of completion.  There was a skeleton standing in an open doorway, wearing what at first Wakuren took to be a purple feather boa - but then he realized they were three separate sections of intestine-like appendages, one along each forearm and another coiled up in the skeleton's ribcage.  _A mohrg_, the half-orc realized, and turned back to exit the room the way he'd come - only to find the door now wide open and the homunculus hovering in the air, watching him.

Returning to the library, Wakuren slid beneath the other closed door, only to have the homunculus open it behind him and follow.  This room was just as sinister despite being empty, for there were three empty cells along the north wall, each containing a wooden bench and an old bucket.  Despite there not being any prisoners stored here at present, Wakuren could only imagine this was where Mallaxus kept the "components" for his flesh golems outside before they were slain and experimented upon.

There was another door from the room of cells, this one leading to an operating room of sorts where Wakuren imagined the flesh golems had been crafted, if the dried bloodstains on the central table and the row of surgical implements on the smaller table against the south wall were any indication.  There was but one more door from this room - besides an open doorway leading to the workshop, for Wakuren could see the mohrg's bony back standing at the end of it - and it proved to be an empty room of a much notably lower temperature: a cold storage room for corpses, no doubt.  Again, the current lack of dead bodies didn't give the half-orc any feelings of relief, for he was certain the room had been put to use before and would be again.

Since that seemed to be the entirety of the lower level, Wakuren retraced his path back to the stairwell and started rising up it - only to see the homunculus following his every move.  This, he realized, was going to be problematic, for the little creature's wings allowed it to fly at a much faster speed than he could manage while in _gaseous form_.  Still, there didn't seem to be much Wakuren could do about it at the moment, so he made his way outside, flew over the hedges, and landed on a back street behind the Mallaxus estate, where he dismissed the _gaseous form_ spell and returned to solid - though still invisible - form.

But as soon as the half-orc had retained solid form, the homunculus moved in to attack, snapping at him with its wicked teeth.  He dodged the blow and instinctively returned the attack with a swipe of his shield, which had the effect of dismissing his _invisibility_.  He at least had the satisfaction of having slammed the shield directly into the homunculus's body, but it staggered away, wings flapping rapidly in an attempt to gain an altitude higher than Wakuren could reach with his shield.  Having attained such a safe height, the homunculus took a moment to taunt the intruder into his master's house.  "You're dead, half-orc!" he said.  "You hear me?  You're dead!"  It grinned evilly at the thought of what Corbin Mallaxus would do to someone who had blatantly invaded his home, especially when the homunculus was able to give him such a good description of what Wakuren looked like.  But Wakuren wasn't particularly concerned, for the vile creature couldn't report back if it were already dead.  Raising his right hand, upon which he wore the _gauntlet of Cal_, he summoned a _javelin of lightning_ into his hand and sent it flying up at the winged beast.  The homunculus squawked in pain and outrage as the _lightning bolt_ struck true, then turned and flew back to his master's home as quickly as it could.  Wakuren growled in irritation when he realized he wouldn't have the opportunity for a second such attack, for the wizard's familiar was already over the hedge and out of view.

Grumbling to himself, Wakuren entered the lamp and briefed the others on what he'd seen.  From the description he gave of the familiar, Thurloe was able to state confidently that was likely a homunculus Wakuren had fought, and almost certainly Corbin's familiar.

"But now what?" asked Alewyth.  "Can we report this to the guards?"

"Not without admitting that Wakuren cast a _gaseous form_ spell upon himself and then trespassed into a citizen's home," Thurloe pointed out.  "That won't get Mallaxus in trouble so much as us.  Face it: there's not a lot we can do about this.  Hopefully Iriadorrista's messages made sure any other local gemcutters won't be carving up that blood diamond of his into a phylactery any time soon."  They returned to the Merry Minstrel Inn, where they enjoyed a hearty dinner and listened to Xandro's performance on the _Dardolian lute_ before calling it a night.  Thurloe opted to stay in the inn's room for the night, with the lamp beneath the bed and the others safely inside its extradimensional spaces.  Wakuren, for one, wanted the extra protection being on an entirely different plane of existence would afford him, knowing the homunculus would report back his intrusion into Corbin's house.

But the night passed without incident, and the next morning the five heroes ate breakfast in the inn, Tommy proudly bringing a basket of breakfast rolls to their table.  However, once they had completed their meal, they were at a loss as to what to do with the day - for the dreamstones wouldn't be finished until the following day, as per Iriadorrista's announced schedule.  Still, they decided to swing by her shop to see how progress was going on their project.

Kiirinarra was there at the shop, as was Hal, but the clerk was nervously wringing her hands.  She breathed a big sigh of relief when the five heroes stepped into the shop, and she raced from behind the counter to fill them in.  "Iriadorrista's missing!" she blurted out.  "She's normally here to open the shop, but it was still locked up when I got in, but I have a key so I opened it myself, but there's no answer at Iriadorrista's door, and that man came back at the end of the day yesterday--"

"Hold on - slow down!" commanded Thurloe.  "What man?  The bald wizard, Mallaxus?"

"Yes, him!" replied Kiirinarra.  "He showed back up at the end of the day, right before we were about to close up for the night.  He had a wooden box with him - a bigger one, not the one he kept the blood diamond in - and he opened it to show Iriadorrista what was in it, and then she went all white and grabbed up her tools from the back room and went off with him.  And we haven't seen her since!"

"What would have been in the box?" queried Zander.

Wakuren had an idea.  "It could easily have been the finger of someone she cares about," he theorized.  "I could see him threatening her family with further harm if she didn't cooperate."  He turned to the elven shop clerk.  "Does Iriadorrista have any family living here in the city?"

"Her mother, yes."  Kiirinarra told them the street she lived on, but she was unsure of her exact address.  Wakuren was ready to go racing off to see the gemcutter's mother at once, but before he could do so Xandro asked a few pertinent questions.  "You say Iriadorrista is normally here first thing in the morning," he told the elven clerk.  "So she lives nearby?"  Kiirinarra pointed to a door from the workshop.  "The other half of the building is her apartment," she explained.  The door was locked, but Kiirinarra said under the circumstances she was sure her boss would have no problems with the bard picking the lock to her living quarters.  It took him less than a minute to get the lock open, and then they went through her quarters; as expected, they were empty, her bed still made and obviously not having been slept in.

"The bastard kidnapped her," Alewyth muttered.

"Let's go," Xandro said, leading the group towards the Mallaxus estate.  Fortunately, to get there they had to pass by the street where Iriadorrista's mother, *Avaranella*, lived.  Xandro was able to ascertain her address by a couple of friendly questions of the people in the neighborhood; Wakuren did his part by remaining _invisible_ so his half-orc countenance didn't scare off the locals.

Knocking on the door, Xandro called out, "Avaranella?  Are you home?  It's very important."

"Go away," came a woman's fearful voice from the other side of the door.

"It's about your daughter, Iriadorrista.  We think someone's taken her, and we're on our way to go get her back.  But we wanted to make sure you're okay.  Did anyone come by yesterday evening, making threats?"

There was the sound of locks being undone on the other side of the door, and then it opened and in the doorway stood the gemcutter's mother.  "He did more than make threats," Avaranella replied, holding forth the bandaged stump where her right hand had been.  "But you say Iri's been kidnapped?  By that horrible man?"

"We're going to get her back," Alewyth promised.

"He said if I said anything, he'd be back to kill me," the elven woman said, shuddering.  "But you already know...."  She looked up at the four adventurers standing on her porch (as Wakuren was still invisible).  "Please, if you can save her from that monster...."

"You close this door back up and keep it locked," Thurloe told the woman.  "We'll be back with your daughter."  And after hearing her lock the closed door back up, the group rushed over to the Mallaxus estate with all haste.  "Same deal as yesterday," Thurloe told the others, once they were all inside the lamp, on the street behind the Mallaxus estate, where nobody would witness them casting spells within the city limits of Baron's Haven without the proper authorization.  Alewyth cast a _magic circle against evil_ spell upon herself, following it up with a _magic vestment_ spell on her armor and a _bless_ spell on the group at large.  Wakuren beefed himself up with more spells than he'd ever cast upon himself at one time before, with _owl's wisdom_, _bull's strength_, and _eagle's splendor_ increasing his overall personal combat effectiveness, followed by _shield of faith_ and _entropic shield_ spells to make it harder for Corbin and his homunculus and mohrg allies to deal the half-orc any serious damage.  Xandro even pitched in by casting a _heroism_ spell on the cleric-paladin of Cal.  Thurloe made do with a charge from his _wand of shield_, before passing it over to Zander so the elf sorcerer could do the same.  Zander also cast a _mage armor_ spell on himself and a _haste_ spell on the group.  Then Wakuren activated his _ring of invisibility_, stepped on the platform in the center of the lamp's extradimensional space and said the command word, "aussteig" - which shunted him back outside by the physical lamp.  Then he picked up the lamp and cast a _gaseous form_ spell upon himself, once again taking on the substance of invisible fumes.  He floated up and over the hedge and flowed around the house to slide beneath the front door.

However, having been alerted to the half-orc's previous intrusion the day before, Corbin Mallaxus had been able to make some preparations.  As Wakuren's invisible, vaporous body seeped beneath the front door, his living life force activated an _alarm_ spell that made a raucous racket that had to have instantly alerted Corbin of the intrusion.  Wakuren flowed over to the dining room, assumed solid form, set down the lamp, and said the command word that shunted him back inside.  "Triggered an _alarm_ spell," he told the others.  "No need to try sneaking around - he's got to know we're here."

Advancing up to the bedroom door, they found it locked - but it took Xandro longer to unpack his lockpicks than it did to overcome the simple lock in the door.  The bedroom was empty, but by now Alewyth was impatient and eager to get downstairs where she was sure Iriadorrista was being held.  She crossed the room and, finding the door to the stairs locked as she had expected, brought _Sjondra_ crashing into the locked door, sundering it from its hinges.  Xandro just shrugged and rolled his lockpicking tools back up into their bundle, then stowed them on his belt.

Wakuren, still invisible, crept down the stairs as quietly as his armor would allow.  The homunculus was squatting on the table in the library, gathering up the black-leather-bound tome, when the half-orc slammed his shield into the familiar's head, channeling Cal's smiting power through it as it struck home.  The homunculus dropped the book and reeled drunkenly in the air, trying to regain his equilibrium, when a _magic missile_ spell from Zander from the bottom of the stairs slew it outright.  It crashed to the library floor in an unliving heap.  Two rooms away, Corbin Mallaxus swore quietly to himself as he felt the link to his familiar go dead.  But he carried on, casting defensive spells upon himself in preparation for the fight to come.

Xandro, in the meantime, took the opportunity to send the point of his _frost short sword_ into the skull of the homunculus, just to make sure it was truly dead.  Satisfied, he then pulled the _Dardolian lute_ from his back and began the initial chords to his song of inspirational courage.  Thurloe brushed past him, bastard sword out and ready for action, and opened the door to the workroom.  Sure enough, there was Iriadorrista sitting in a wooden chair, bent over the blood diamond with a loupe on one eye and her gemcutting instruments in hand.  But that wasn't all of note in the workshop: besides the mohrg, which still stood in the doorway on guard duty, there was a right hand crawling about on its fingertips on top of a smaller table in the corner; Thurloe couldn't help but notice the severed hand was wearing a tiger's eye ring on one finger that gave it the appearance of some cyclopean overseer watching the gemcutter's work.  But as Corbin didn't appear to be in the room, Thurloe moved over to the other door from the library, which he recalled led to the room with the three cells.

Alewyth stepped into the workshop, her holy symbol of Aerik held before her.  As she sent a blast of positive energy through Aerik's icon (hoping to cause the mohrg to crumble away to dust or at least flee the scene; to the priestess's disappointment, it did neither), Alewyth couldn't help but notice the manacle around Iriadorrista's left ankle, from which was attached a length of heavy chain mounted to the stone floor beneath the table at which she sat.  Judging from the chain's apparent length, it seemed she had the full range of the workshop but that was about it.  But the elf looked up from her work at the Alewyth's approach, and a look of relief passed over her face.

Wakuren pocketed the black tome the homunculus was gathering up and stepped into the workshop behind Alewyth, casting a spell that summoned an air element hippogriff into being.  It immediately attacked the mohrg, its front talons clawing their way across the skeletal being's skull.  It retaliated at once, sending its clawed "tongue" shooting forth from its open jaws; the slimy appendage hit the hippogriff, but its paralytic secretions had no effect upon a creature whose body was composed of the swirling winds from the Elemental Plane of Air.  Not liking its nearness to this elemental force, the crawling claw - animated the night before, using Avaranella's severed hand - skittered to the far side of the table upon which it crouched, and the air elemental hippogriff, seeing the motion, instinctively swatted at it with its right front talons.  That was enough to slay the crawling claw in one blow; it fell to the floor, landing upside down and preventing Corbin Mallaxus from seeing anything if he tried _scrying_ through the tiger's eye ring it wore, using the linked amulet around his neck.

Then Zander ran into the workshop, scooting the long way around the table at which Iriadorrista sat, until he had a good line of sight on the mohrg.  Then he sent a _scorching ray_ spell blasting across the room to hit the undead thing square on with one fiery stream.  (The other one, unfortunately, missed completely.)

Anticipating imminent contact with the enemy, Corbin cast a summoning spell of his own and set a bearded devil immediately before the door linking the construct lab - in which he stood - to the room with the three cells.  It was just in time, too, for Thurloe opened the door immediately after having cast a _mirror image_ spell on himself.  He was surprised to see a bearded devil standing before him in the doorway (and Corbin standing at the back of the room, behind the devil), while the fiend was just as surprised to see six identical spellswords facing him through the doorway.  Overcoming his initial surprise, the devil stabbed forward with his glaive, but the Thurloes successfully dodged out of the way.

Alewyth pulled Iriadorrista away from the mohrg and the hippogriff, admonishing her to hold still as she brought _Sjondra_ crashing down upon the chain by the elf's foot.  Several links broke under the assault, and the gemcutter found herself free, a mere half-dozen links jangling from the manacle around her left foot.  "Run!" Alewyth called to her, and Iriadorrista did as she was told, rushing out of the workshop and into the safety of the arcane library.  "Don't leave the house, though!" Alewyth amended, not wanting the gemcutter to run afoul of the two flesh golems roaming around the necromancer's yard.  Back in the workshop, the mohrg and the hippogriff traded blows, the elemental creature getting the better of the deal, for all of its attacks could harm the undead thing, whereas the mohrg's paralytic attacks were useless against the being born of winds.

Zander cast a _magic missile_ spell at the mohrg, trading a lower damage output (compared to a _scorching ray_ spell like he'd tried using earlier) for a guaranteed successful strike.  Corbin sidled over to the cooler chamber, casting another summoning spell before closing the door and cutting himself from view.  But the yeth hound he'd summoned from the Fiendish Planes manifested behind the six Thurloes, snapping at the nearest with his teeth - and, surprisingly, missing entirely as the multiple images shifted back and forth in a rather confusing pattern.  The bearded devil was having a similar problem stabbing out with his glaive and striking nothing but empty air.

Thurloe, taking inspiration from Xandro's magical tune, activated his _torc of the titans_ and brought his bastard sword swinging at the bearded devil with all he was worth.  The blade hit the fiend in the side of the torso and went in deep, but not as deep as the spellsword would have expected; he's forgotten to take into account the devil's insanely thick skin, granting it a level of protection against mortal weapons that only silver or holy magic could overcome.  Wakuren departed the workshop in search of Corbin and approached Thurloe from the library, hitting the devil in the doorway with the side of his shield.

While the air element hippogriff and the mohrg each did their best to take the other out, Alewyth cast a _searing light_ spell at the undead abomination.  Unfortunately, due to their jostling about as they struggled to slay each other, the dwarf priestess missed with her spell.  Zander took a chance and attempted another _scorching ray_ spell, this time managing to hit the mohrg with both rays of flame.

Corbin, by this time, had come to an unfortunate conclusion: the odds were against him and it was in his best interests to escape the current combat in his house and restart his machinations elsewhere.  He hated to give up his blood diamond, but he knew perfectly well the ritual to infuse a diamond with the slain souls of tortured captives; another blood diamond could easily be crafted in the days to come.  But with his familiar dead, the necromancer needed the black tome the homunculus had been sent to fetch for his master, for it had the intricate ceremonies and rituals needed to ensure the successful transformation into an undying lich.  Corbin need only fetch the tome before he could use the _scroll of teleport_ he held in his left hand to ensure his successful getaway from these meddling heroes.  And he knew exactly where the tome had been left: on the table in the library, and hopefully the others would be too busy fighting off his allies for them to notice his sudden appearance in the arcane library before he would be on his way to safety.

With these thoughts in mind, Corbin Mallaxus said the words to a _dimension door_ spell and appeared standing next to the table in his library - where he saw, to his horror, the black tome was missing!  Who had taken it?  He looked on the floor by the body of his slain homunculus, hoping the loyal familiar might have dropped it at his side in his death, but no, it wasn't there either!  Fury rose in the necromancer: who had dared to take what he needed to ascend to lichdom?

Iriadorrista screamed at the necromancer's sudden appearance by her side.  She fled to the stairs, while Xandro was surprised to see he was now merely steps away from the foul wizard who'd cut off Iriadorrista's mother's hand just to force the gemcutter to do his bidding.  "Guys!" he called out, breaking the flow of his song.  "He's here in the library - come quick!"  But then he thrust at the necromancer with his _frost short sword_, the blade cutting into Corbin's side and eliciting a yelp of surprise and pain.

The bearded devil, tired of being the target for Thurloe's blade, decided to _teleport_ behind all five of the _mirror images_ and the real thing, for he was having a difficult time sorting them out and had thus far been unable to land his glaive into any of them.  However, Wakuren slammed his shield sideways into the fiend's throat right as he was about to begin his _teleport_ maneuver, and as a result when he did pop behind the foes facing him in the doorway, it was only to collapse onto the floor with a crushed throat.  Beside the bearded devil, the yeth hound snapped at one of the _mirror images_, but all six of the apparent Thurloes had by this time spun about to face the fiendish threats, and the hound's jaws snapped closed on empty air once again.  But the real spellsword's blade came crashing down upon the yeth hound's back, cutting deep and pulling back before the confused creature could recall which of the six identical _Spellslicer_ blades had been the real one.

Alewyth swung _Sjondra_ into the side of the mohrg, who thus far had been gradually whittled away by the attacks from the air element hippogriff and Zander's spells.  The undead thing's bones were cracked in several locations, and the dwarf got the feeling it wouldn't be long before they had brought about its destruction.  And indeed, after it struck at the hippogriff and the hippogriff returned the favor, Zander brought the mohrg down with a final _magic missile_ spell.

Wakuren left the yeth hound to Thurloe and his _mirror images_ and ran over to aid Xandro in the library.  As Corbin was standing behind the table, the half orc leaped up upon it and from that vantage point brought his shield slamming down upon the necromancer with all of his considerable strength.  Corbin staggered away sidewise, somewhat dazed, which gave Wakuren the opportunity to leap down from the tabletop and bring his shield crashing sideways into the evil wizard's side.  But Mallaxus wasn't out of the fight yet: frantically scrabbling backwards a step or two to get out of the reach of Wakuren's shield, he cast a _chain lightning_ spell directly into the half-orc's face, the initial burst of electricity sending another arc flashing over to strike Xandro as well.  The bard stepped back after the blast, sheathing his blade and returning to his song of inspirational courage on his lute.  Let those more geared toward melee combat deal with such things!

The yeth hound snapped at another _mirror image_ and once again missed.  Thurloe, however, did not miss with his blade, and another deep gash opened up on the fiendish hound's body.  It voiced a cry of pain that sounded surprisingly human.

But with the mohrg taken care of, Alewyth was now free to join the fight against Corbin Mallaxus.  Returning to the library, she cast a _hold person_ spell on the necromancer and was pleased to see him unable to shake it off.  His body froze, his fingers up and in the midst of some sort of spellcasting, and Wakuren broke into a rather evil grin once he saw Corbin was - temporarily at least - out of the fight.  Grabbing the back of the wizard's bald head, the half-orc spun him around and sent his face full-force into the side of the stone stairs leading up to the ground level of his home.  He heard the sound of Corbin's nose breaking and a gush of blood poured from his wounded face, but Wakuren refused to release his grip.  Instead, he pulled Corbin's head back (at which point a cluster of _magic missiles_ came streaking in from the doorway to the workshop, courtesy of Zander), and then - just as he could feel Corbin begin to shrug off the effects of the _hold person_ spell, sent his face crashing once again into solid stone.

One room over, the yeth hound made a final ineffectual bite at a random Thurloe before the real one cut his spine in two with his bastard sword.  With a final howl of despair, the yeth hound vanished, returning to the foul plane from which he had been summoned.  Over by the stairs, Alewyth shielded Iriadorrista with her own stocky body, not to keep her safe from harm but to prevent her from seeing the spectacle occurring in the arcane library, for Corbin was already quite dead but Wakuren, a look of fury blazing on his orcish features, continued pounding the wizard's face into the stone, again and again and again.  By this time the necromancer didn't really have much of a face at all, merely a pulpy mess where his face used to be, and the red stain on the side of the stairs continued to grow with each slam.  Finally, Thurloe put a stop to it by laying a hand on Wakuren's shoulder; the half-orc nearly responded by turning his fury upon the spellsword until he saw who it was and forcibly calmed himself down.  He let Mallaxus's limp body fall to the floor when he released the back of his head.

The group then went about recovering what they could from the wizard's dwelling: the arcane scroll of _teleport_ with which he'd planned on making his escape; the tiger's eye ring from Avaranella's severed and animated hand and the amulet from around Mallaxus's neck that had allowed him to scry through it; the contents of his arcane library (Thurloe had already discovered the necromancer's spellbooks and was flipping through them, seeing if there was anything there that caught his interest); and, of course, the blood diamond.  Iriadorrista hadn't had time to finish the carving Corbin had forced her to begin and thus far it just held the rune for "life," without the corresponding "eternal" to go with it.  Wakuren, now that his temporary rage had abated, offered up that the clerics at the local Temple of Cal could probably cleanse it of the evil with which it had been suffused, leaving behind a quite valuable gem.  Iriadorrista agreed at once, vowing to use the money from the sale of the gem to pay to have her mother's severed hand regenerated, with the rest being paid to the five heroes as a reward for having saved her from Corbin Mallaxus.  And she further vowed to accept no payment for the carving of the dreamstones.

"Are you sure?" asked Alewyth, not wanting to take advantage of the elf for having done something she considered to be part of her job.

Thurloe slapped the dwarf's thigh with the back of his hand.  "Of course she's sure!" he hissed, amazed at the stupidity of someone turning down an offer of free services.  And here he thought dwarves were supposed to have a good head for money!

Two days later, once the dreamstones had been finished up - the three rough chunks having been carved into a set of five petal-shaped pieces of roughly the same size and shape, each with arcane runes carved upon the upper faces - and carefully placed inside Alewyth's extradimensional haversack for safekeeping, the five heroes checked out of the Merry Minstrel Inn, said their goodbyes to Jorbalee and Tommy, and returned to the Shrine of Delphyne.

"I hope Scarlie's sober," commented Zander as Alewyth deciphered the code phrase to return them to Basutra.  "I don't know how he manages to put away all the ale he drinks."  Just then, a tendril extended from his forearm and the tiny eye at its tip pointed at the elf's face.  <I've been focusing my attention on several other hosts in other worlds,> it admitted telepathically.  <Has anything of interest happened on this world in the past several of your days?>

"Nah," scoffed Zander to his extraplanar symbiote.  "Just the same old boring stuff."

<Figures!> scoffed the nibish-riule.

 - - -

This was a fun adventure to run - and once again, the players' favorite plan of "Wakuren carrying everyone else inside the lamp while he flies around in _gaseous form_ while invisible" went slightly astray when he couldn't shake the homunculus after rolling three natural 1s in a row when trying to be sneaky.  (We joked that while in _gaseous form_, the only way he knew to move around must be by making fart noises - and especially loud ones when squeezing his vaporous body underneath doors.)  However, I inadvertently helped them out a bit on that front, as if Wakuren's wearing the tiger's-eye ring while invisible and one of the other PCs wears the _amulet of scrying_ while inside the lamp, they'll at least have some idea of what's going on in the outside world while he's carrying them around.

And there at the end, Logan came up with Wakuren's plan for taking out Corbin once and for all by announcing, "I Power Attack the stone wall with the necromancer's face!"

 - - -

T-shirt worn: One of my two Red Cross T-shirts I got for donating blood, as it tied in nicely to the blood diamond Corbin tried to use as his phylactery.


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## Richards (Nov 12, 2022)

*ADVENTURE 38: NEST QUEST*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 8​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 3/spellsword 2​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 4/paladin 4​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 6/rogue 2​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 8​
Game Session Date: 5 November 2022

 - - -

"Hey kupo," Mogo greeted the five dreamwalkers at the beginning of their nightly Dreamlands training session.  There was a man standing beside the moogle, someone they'd never seen before, a burly human with shaggy, brown hair and long sideburns.  "This is Garth Mankin, kupo.  Tomorrow morning, before you start off towards the location of the next dream victim, he'll meet up with you and you'll give the dreamstones to him and he'll take them to where they're needed, kupo.”  Garth said nothing, just stood there looking impassive, with his arms crossed and his feet shoulder-length apart, as if awaiting his next orders.

Mogo explained that Garth was a dreamwalker like them, but not an adventurer, so while he could be given instructions in the Dreamlands he wasn't being trained to interact in other people's dreams like they were.

"What are the dreamstones being used for?" asked Xandro.  Mogo explained the Queen of Dreams was trying an experiment that might make it easier for them to stop the dream sickness.  They'd know in the months to follow if the five newly-carved dreamstones were having any effect.

In the meantime, their training session that night involved entering an individual's dreams and changing the environment around them without being noticed by the dreamer.  Garth, having seen the five dreamwalkers and thus able to recognize them when he met up with them in the Waking World the next day, nodded and took his leave; he was not needed in the night's dreamwalker training session.

But sure enough, when the group finished up their breakfast in the inn they'd stayed at the night before, Garth Mankin was there as promised.  He took custody of the five carved dreamstones, packing each in soft linens so they wouldn't jostle in the back of his pony-driven cart.  Then, without a word, he gave them a final nod and was on his way.  The adventurers followed for a short while, but once out of town the heroes continued east while Garth turned to the south.

"Chatty fellow," scoffed Thurloe - during the entire time they'd met with him, in both the Dreamlands and the Waking World, he hadn't said a single word.

"Maybe he's shy," suggested Zander.

"Maybe he's mute," countered Alewyth.

"Maybe he's a monk having taken a vow of silence," added Xandro.

"Maybe I don't really care," answered Thurloe.  "So, just how far is this next dreamer?"

"We've got about three days of travel ahead of us," answered Wakuren.  "It's a small farming village called Sun Valley."  Then, anticipating the spellsword's real reason for having asked the question in the first place, the half-orc added, "So there's no reason you can't sit in the wagon and study those spellbooks of Corbin's."

"That's what I thought," Thurloe replied, tying Horse's reins to the rear of the wagon and leaping into the back.

The first day was uneventful.  But it was nearing noon on the second day of travel that they met up with a human paladin wearing the tabard of Cal over her armor.  She sat astride a horse, having just ridden into the middle of the road via a side-road, and raised her hand to bring the small caravan to a halt.  As Scarlie brought the mules to a stop and the heroes riding their own mounts alongside and behind the wagon followed suit, the woman called out, "I would have words with you, paladin!" to Wakuren.

"Is she evil?" Thurloe prompted in a low voice from Horse's saddle over on one side of the wagon.  After having been kidnapped by the night hag Hesperna shortly after encountering her in human form on horseback, the spellsword didn't like making any assumptions about any strangers they met on the road.

"She's wearing the trappings of Cal," Wakuren answered back.  "Surely she's--oh, wait, yeah, she's evil."  He had trained his paladin senses upon the stranger and was definitely getting waves of evil from her aura.  The half-orc growled under his breath, although it wasn't apparent which bothered him more: a pretender wearing the armor and trappings of the God of Healing and Air, or the fact that Thurloe was once again right in not trusting anyone he met for the first time.

"There is something I would discuss with you in private," the woman continued.  "Will you accompany me around the bend?  I do not know your companions, but what I have to say is for the ears of a member of the Church of Cal.  I will leave it to you to decide whether to share what I have to say to you with them, after the fact."

"You want me to go with you out of earshot?" Wakuren confirmed.  He looked over at Thurloe.  "I will have one of my companions accompany us," he said.  "Anything you wish to say to me can be said in front of him as well."

The woman clearly wasn't a fan of this plan.  She scowled at Thurloe for a moment, then returned her gaze to Wakuren.  "You do not trust me?" she asked.  Then, as if realization had just dawned on her, she said, "You've detected evil in my aura, haven't you?"

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"That's part of what I wish to discuss with you.  I, likewise, am detecting your aura as evil in nature.  It's a problem that's become more prevalent in the church and we don't know what's causing it.  However..."  She paused as if weighing whether or not to talk about the issue in front of the others, but then finally relented.  "Divinations have shown the answer to the problem lies with a half-orc paladin of Cal.  I had not even known there to be a half-orc paladin of Cal, until I started hearing about your little band here, traveling from town to town.  So I've been seeking you out."

Wakuren looked over again at Thurloe, who shrugged, as if to say, "Your call."  "Very well, then," Wakuren said, rising up and stepping down from the wagon.  "I will hear what you have to say."  As he walked over to the female paladin, Thurloe kept pace with him on Horse.  When they got to the branch in the road, Thurloe backed his mount off the road about 20 feet or so.  "You should be able to talk in private," he said, and the paladin looked down at Wakuren, standing beside her own horse.  She didn't dismount, but rather said, "I need to see your hands.  Unshod."  Wakuren removed his _gauntlet of Cal_ from his right hand and placed it on the ground beside his _shield of Cal_.  He held out his hands so she could see his palms.

The paladin held her own hands out to her side and touched Wakuren's, palm to palm.  She closed her eyes as if concentrating.  "There's some disturbance," she said.

"Disturbance?" echoed Wakuren.

"I'm trying to divine how you fit into this whole puzzle," the paladin explained.  She opened her eyes back up and stared down at him.  "Those rings you wear: are they magical?  That might be causing the interference."  It was a logical explanation, but it sure sounded awfully convenient, especially to the other heroes who had been stealthily eavesdropping on the conversation.  Xandro was pretty sure this was a trick to try to get Wakuren to remove his magic rings - his _ring of invisibility_ and his _ring of mystic healing_ - and he led his horse White up to the front of the wagon, indicating for Zander to do the same.  Alewyth guided her dire goat Pyrite off the road and into the scrub forest to the south of the road.  She could see the mounted human paladin on the other side of a row of hedges and cast a _detect evil_ spell of her own.  Sure enough, there was evil coming from the two of them, and with enough concentration the dwarven priestess could determine it was coming from the human, not Wakuren.

"And I suppose you'd like me to take them off," Wakuren said, a tone of suspicion in his voice.

"It might help."

"I've got a better idea," remarked Thurloe.  "How about we all head over to the nearest Temple of Cal and talk this all over with the clerics there?  That sound like a good plan to you?"

The woman looked over at Thurloe with a look of irritation.  "That's the problem," she said.  "It could very well be someone from inside the church who's causing the effect.  We'd have no way of knowing who we could trust."

"I'm not so sure I trust you, given you're emanating evil and Wakuren isn't," piped up Alewyth.

"Your senses might be off because you know him well and I'm a stranger to you," suggested the paladin.  "You wouldn't be the first person to make a mistake like that."  But she didn't like the way the dwarf was peering at her suspiciously, nor how the spellsword looked eager to cut her to pieces with his bastard sword the first time she made a wrong move.  What a pity!  They hadn't peered past her _disguise self_ spell to see her true form, and the foolish half-orc hadn't even registered that when they touched hands she'd surreptitiously siphoned off a bit of his mental energy, but the draining process took time and she didn't like the odds.  That was a real shame, too, since she'd really wanted the ring the half-orc wore on his left hand, since her _detect magic_ spell had hinted there was a very strong possibility of it being a coveted _ring of invisibility_ - how she'd have been able to put that to good use!

Still, maybe she could still get away with something for her troubles!  The horse obediently bending low to the ground so she could snatch up Wakuren's _gauntlet of Cal_ from the ground, she made a grab for it but missed; then, the jig quite up, she went fleeing southward, down the side road from which she'd come.  Not too far away was an opening between the trees into which she could lose these "heroes" in the forest.

But Thurloe wasn't having any of it.  Casting a _ray of enfeeblement_ at the fleeing paladin, he hit her square in the back and she flinched as if struck with a solid object.  Xandro began a tactic that had worked very well on the dark naga in the kobold warren and began playing his song of fascination, hoping to entrance the fleeing paladin - or maybe even her horse.  But this was not to be, for in the very initial chords of the song a string broke on the _Dardolian lute_, making any such attempts at magical fascination a fool's errand.

But then Zander rode up to the intersection, astride his horse Eddy.  He cast a _lightning bolt_ spell, which struck the fleeing paladin and the horse she rode with a blast of electrical energy.  This likewise caused her to arch her back in pain, and in so doing it became apparent she was not really a human woman astride a horse, for horse and woman were both part of the same beast: from the waist up, she had the appearance of a human woman (with features very similar to that of the paladin - why concentrate on altering features that were fine as they were?), only from the waist down she had the centaurian build of a lioness.  Zander had heard of such creatures: lamias!

Wakuren picked up his _gauntlet of Cal_ and placed it back over his right hand. Then, reaching up with it, he summoned a _javelin of lightning_ into his hand.  "You wanted to steal my gauntlet?" he called to the fleeing lamia.  "Well, here it is!"  And with that, he hurled the _lightning bolt_ her way; it crashed into her hindquarters and caused her to cry out in pain yet again.  This was definitely not how she had envisioned events unfolding!

Alewyth spurred on Pyrite and cut the lamia off at the edge of the row of shrubs growing along the side of the road.  She swung _Sjondra_ with all of her strength, bringing the dwarven warhammer crashing into the side of her human ribs, likely breaking a few of them with the force of her blow.  Crying out in pain, the lamia fled from Alewyth, crashing into the brush much sooner than at the clearing for which she had been heading.  She scrambled to make her getaway, confident she could make her way through the forest better than a bunch of cityfolk riding horses.  But Zander didn't need to enter the forest on the eastern side of the side-road; all he needed was to be able to see the lamia's location to target her with another _lightning bolt_ spell.  She screamed in pain again and looked to be on her last legs; Thurloe finished her off with a blast from his _wand of magic missile_.

"See?" he said, looking back at Wakuren.  "It pays to detect evil on _everyone_, no matter _what_ they look like!"  Wakuren just growled under his breath, not liking being talked down to in that fashion.

But fortunately, that was all the excitement that day's travel had for the group.  Come nightfall, they made camp on the side of the road, Scarlie volunteering to sleep in the abandoned wagon under the stars while everyone else - riding mounts included - went into the extradimensional lamp they'd gotten from the night hag Hesperna.  Scarlie promised to enter the lamp and warn them if he ran into any trouble; he even wore the tiger's eye ring that allowed another person to scry through it from inside the lamp using the _amulet of scrying_ they'd taken from Corbin Mallaxus.

It was early morning the third and final day of travel when they ran into their next bit of trouble.  They'd been on the road for less than an hour, with the Shieldwall Mountains off to their left as their little caravan ambled on down the road, heading east.  The road had picked up a lengthy fence off to the left, a short distance away from the road, and on the other side of the fence were about a dozen cows, placidly grazing on the green grass at their feet.  Not so placid were the four farmers racing their way, each wielding a pitchfork.  "Those damn ants are back again, after the cows!" one yelled.

Wakuren looked over at the cows, puzzled - how were mere ants going to be a problem for a herd of such large creatures?  Then he got a look at the ants approaching from the direction of the mountains.  The first wave consisted of eight ants, each about the size of a large mastiff, and behind them came another wave of eight giant ants, as big if not even larger.  The cows, busy with the important task of choosing which particular bite of grass to feed upon next, were unaware of the giant insects' approach until they were upon them, and then their frenzied moos caused the whole herd to panic.

Zander cast a _mage armor_ spell upon himself as he sent Eddy over by the fence, although he was hesitant to jump into the fray just quite yet.  Thurloe also cast a _mage armor_ spell upon himself, but he leapt off of Horse and sprinted over to the fence, ready to clamber over it and take on the giant ants.  Alewyth cast a _bless_ spell on the group and sent Pyrite over by the fence, but stayed in her dire goat's saddle for now.  But Wakuren wasn't wasting any time: he cast a _summon monster III_ spell as he ran to the fence and scrambled over it; by the time her was on the far side of the fence a celestial bison had manifested behind the first wave of giant ants, as the second wave approached.  Lowering its shaggy head, it ran towards the nearest ant in the second wave - made up entirely of soldier ants, the first wave being mere workers who lacked the soldiers' sting - and sent a horn piercing the soldier ant's carapace.  From even farther back, four more insectoid figures approached, but right now everyone was so busy focusing on the ants and cows that they weren't even noticed.

Wicked mandibles closed around the necks of frightened cows; panicked bovines tore away from the pincers and made frenzied dashes for safety.  The farmers advanced, waving their pitchforks and yelling at the giant ants to scram.  Xandro, still on the safe side of the fence separating him from all of the action, pulled the _Dardolian lute_ from his back and started playing his song of inspirational courage.  After all, it was a wide, open field - no need for him to be in the middle of all the danger for his music to have an effect.

Then, in a sudden rush, the soldiers scurried forward, three of them focusing upon the celestial bison in their midst while the others chased down fleeing cows.  Zander climbed off Eddy, scampered over the fence, and lined himself up such that a quick casting of a _lightning bolt_ spell took out three of the worker ants and two soldiers.   Thurloe cast a _shield_ spell upon himself and then, deeming himself ready for combat, climbed over the fence and pulled the bastard sword from its scabbard on his back.

Alewyth pulled on Pyrite's reins and had her dire goat flee back the way they had come.  But this wasn't some sudden act of cowardice; upon reaching far enough away from the fence, she wheeled her riding mount back again and had him sprint for the fence-line, leaping over the barrier and landing in the field surrounded by panicking cows and giant ants.  She also cast a summoning spell and suddenly a second celestial bison was there in the field beside her.  It stabbed at the nearest soldier ant with an impressive set of horns.

Wakuren cast a _bull's strength_ spell upon himself as he moved toward the closest ant, shield at the ready to immediately switch from a defensive tool to an attack weapon.  The bison he'd summoned slew the soldier ant it had just gored, flinging its head from one side to the other to dislodge its carcass from his horn.  The shaggy beast felt a magical attack upon his bovine mind but fended it off; looking about to see who had just tried to _dominate_ him, he saw the line of four larger insects approaching - it had been one of them.  These creatures were also antlike in build, but their bodies bent between thorax and abdomen, leaving four legs for walking while the forward set served the function of arms.  These centaurian ants were members of the formian race, from an extraplanar hive seeking to expand into these new lands on the Material Plane.  Formians had different castes, just like ants, and these four were taskmasters, built to _dominate_ the local life forms and bend them to the formians' will.

Now the farmers found themselves under attack by a trio of worker ants, for the taskmasters didn't care which of the local life forms were slain to provide nourishment for the hive; humans would serve just as easily as cows.  The farmers fought bravely back with their pitchforks, but it was quite easy to see they had no experience fighting off giant ants using only farm implements normally used to gather up hay.  Feeling a little guilty at remaining behind out of danger, Xandro stepped onto the rail-post fence and climbed up it using only his legs, both arms busy playing the lute.  He swung a leg over the top rail and leaped back down on the other side, not having missed a beat of his inspirational song.

The soldier ants swarmed over the cows they could chase down, while two continued the attack upon Wakuren's celestial bison.  Zander, having spotted the taskmasters and deciding their greater size made them likely the biggest threat (he wasn't sure at this point if they were just bigger ants or some other creature entirely), cast a _summon swarm_ spell that had a cloud of bats flying in to surround one of the taskmasters, nipping and biting at the insect with their sharp teeth.  Thurloe, still too far away to bring his sword to bear, chose a taskmaster and targeted a _ray of enfeeblement_ spell at it, but the shot went astray.  Alewyth, not sure just what these larger ants were all about, cast a _magic circle against evil_ just in case.  As it happened, neither the formians nor the giant ants were of an evil nature, but the spell had the beneficial side effect of keeping the dwarven priestess - and anyone within 10 feet of her - safe from the effects of any attempts at mind-control.

Alewyth's celestial bison slew a soldier ant, ripping through its carapace with her horns and then stomping on it with her hooves.  By now, Wakuren was close enough to be able to charge another soldier ant, crushing its carapaced head with the edge of his shield.  The celestial bison he'd summoned killed another soldier ant and moved forward to take on the nearest formian taskmaster.

Two of the farmers suddenly spasmed as their minds were successfully dominated by a pair of the taskmasters, one of them bleeding from dozens of wounds as it extricated itself momentarily from the swarm of bats surrounding it.  The farmers stopped trying to fight off the worker ants and the ants stopped trying to bite those particular farmers; the two were now part of the same slave force.  A third taskmaster tried to _dominate_ Wakuren, but he was having none of it.  The fourth had no such opportunity, for it was fighting for its life against the half-orc's summoned celestial bison, stabbing the bovine creature with its tail stinger while scratching its shaggy fur with both sets of front claws.  One of the farmers still possessing his own faculties stabbed at a worker ant with his pitchfork, while the other was grabbed up by the two of his co-workers now under the taskmasters' mental dominance.  "Hey!" he cried.  "Lemme go!"  Xandro, still playing his tune, started heading in the farmers' direction, dodging fleeing cows as he did so.

Another of Zander's _lightning bolts_ hit two taskmasters in a row, one of them being the one besieged by biting bats.  The bats refocused their efforts, diving back in at the one who had just escaped their swarm; the taskmaster was now dying a death of a thousand cuts, as blood dripped from numerous wounds in his carapace.  Thurloe cast a _magic missile_ spell at another of the taskmasters, for it was fairly obvious now that these larger bugs were the masterminds behind this entire raiding operation.

Pyrite ran down a soldier ant and Alewyth leaned over to one side, swinging her dwarven warhammer _Sjondra_ full-force into the giant ant's head, crushing it to jelly.  Her summoned celestial bison slew another worker, while Wakuren rushed a taskmaster and slammed his shield against it.  The bison he had summoned from the celestial realms slew one of the taskmasters, bringing their number down to just three.  With the creature dead, several of the ants stopped their attacks and seemed to look around frantically, as if just now realizing where they were and what was going on around them.

One of the remaining taskmasters bent its will to taking over Wakuren's mind, but the stubborn half-orc's mind was now a red haze of battle lust and the process was not as easy as the insect overlord had hoped it might be.  The bat-covered formian scrambled away from its tormentors, just in time to die from its wounds.  But the third one managed to overcome the mental defenses of the celestial bison Wakuren had summoned and it dutifully obeyed its new instructions, running over to the farmers, who were still being mentally controlled by the formians.  The sole remaining farmer with a weapon - for the two dominated farmers had dropped their pitchforks to wrestle the free-willed farmer, who had likewise lost his impromptu weapon - stabbed at the worker ant still trying to catch him between its wicked mandibles.  His pitchfork caught the ant between its bulbous eyes, stabbing into its head, and it dropped to the ground of the field, dead.  Then, looking about for his friends, he found them climbing onto the back of a shaggy bison, two of them pulling a struggling third up between them.

Alewyth found herself under attack by a soldier ant and she leaped down from Pyrite to meet the attack head on, figuring she was better able to deal with it than her trusty mount, who was not trained in the ways of battle.  Zander cast another _lightning bolt_ spell at a taskmaster, even though doing so meant the blast of electricity went through his bat swarm as well.  Fried bats fell from the sky around the taskmaster, and Thurloe followed up with another _magic missile_ aimed at the same formian.  And still it refused to fall!

After having slain the soldier ant she was fighting, Alewyth cast a _hold person_ spell on one of the dominated farmers keeping his friend held in place upon Wakuren's bison.  This gave the free-willed farmer enough of an opening to wriggle free from his _dominated_ friends and leap down from the bison's back, while at the same time Alewyth's bison slew the last of the worker ants that had still been trying to bring down a cow.  Wakuren slammed the edge of his shield at one of the remaining taskmasters, while another one managed to successfully _dominate_ the farmer who had just gotten himself free from his friends' grasp and was looking for his dropped pitchfork in the grasses of the grazing field.  Then a final _lightning bolt_ spell from Zander slew one of the two remaining taskmasters, while Thurloe took out the other one with a _magic missile_ barrage.  The taskmasters now all slain, the formerly _dominated_ mind-slaves found themselves with their own faculties back, and the farmers still on the back of the celestial bison climbed back down - and just in time, too, for shortly thereafter it vanished, returning to the celestial plane from which it had been summoned.

"Is everyone okay?" Alewyth asked the farmers.  A score of insectoid bodies littered the field, but remarkably all ten cows had made it through the attack alive.

"We're fine, Miss, all thanks to you," one of the farmers replied.

"You said the ants were back," Wakuren said.  "They had attacked before?"

"Yeah, two days ago," answered one of the farmers.  "There were less of them, but they managed to kill two cows and drag them away."

"It wouldn't be very difficult to track them," pointed out Xandro, putting the _Dardolian lute_ on his back now that the combat was over.  "Two big, heavy cows being dragged along the ground, back toward the mountains...."  He pointed off in the distance, where signs of such drag-marks were still evident, two days later.

"Tomorrow," Thurloe decided.  "We've used up a bunch of our spells today and I wouldn't mind being at full strength if we're going to track those mind-controller bugs back to their nest.  Those celestial bison were plenty handy in soaking up attacks that otherwise would have come our way, and they did their fair share of killing as well.  Plus, I want to make sure we're all protected from being taken over.  I don't want to be some bug-slave the rest of my life!"

"Would it be possible for you to put us up for the night?" asked Alewyth.  "We'd be fine in a barn with our animals."  The farmers readily agreed, feeling it was the least they could do for these wandering heroes who had just put their lives on the line for the four of them and their small herd.  Of course, they didn't know the heroes were going to be sleeping in slightly more luxurious conditions than a pile of hay in a barn; they'd be inside the extradimensional lamp.

The next morning, fresh and relaxed - and, more importantly, with a full spell repertoire at the ready - the group returned to the field, surprised to see a few of the corpses from the previous day's battle missing.  Fresh drag marks paralleled the ones from the first attack, when two cows had been slain by a smaller force of giant ants.  It looked like two of the formian taskmaster corpses had been singled out, whether because they were the biggest (and thus would provide the most meat) or to hide their involvement (which would mean another task force would be sent to fetch the two other corpses soon enough) was unclear.  But the group decided unanimously not to wait for the next wave of ants and formians to show up, but to backtrack them to their nest.

The way was not difficult, with the multiple drag marks all pointing the way the insects had gone to return to the nest.  The ground was level for the most part, although it got slightly hilly as they approached the edges of the Shieldwall Mountains.  But the drag-marks ended when the grass did; fortunately, there were spots of blood and scraped hide to show which way the cattle corpses had been dragged, and it wasn't too difficult to guess their eventual destination once the two columns came into view.

Two pillars rose up from the stone ground, one on either side of a wide, open cave in the side of the nearest mountain.  All indications showed the cows had been dragged straight into the cave entrance.  "How do we want to do this?" Xandro asked.

"We buff up, we go in," suggested Thurloe.  He didn't want to hear any suggestions from Wakuren involving Hesperna's lamp, the half-orc's _ring of invisibility_, and a _gaseous form_ spell.  If the spellsword was going in, he wanted to be able to see what all he was getting into.

The preparatory spellcasting took some time, making sure everyone was covered with either a _magic circle against evil_ or a _protection from evil_ spell, to ensure nobody would be falling sway to a taskmaster's _domination_ effect.  Thurloe and Zander covered themselves in their standard _mage armor_ and _shield_ spells; Alewyth cast an _entropic shield_ spell on herself and Wakuren followed suit; the half-orc followed it up with a _shield of faith_ spell, _bull's strength_, _eagle's splendor_, and _heroism_, and only then signaled he was ready.  "Then let's go," suggested Thurloe, leading the way up the hill towards the cave.  Xandro cast a _heroism_ spell on the spellsword as they headed toward the cave entrance.

As Alewyth and Wakuren approached, their innate darkvision allowed them to see inside the unlit cave's interior, and thus they were the only two to see the formian at the back of the cave.  It was even larger than a taskmaster, but fortunately it had its back to the approaching heroes and didn't seem aware of their presence.  But it had a quiver of a half-dozen javelins strapped over one shoulder, while it held some sort of slightly glowing stone in one hand.

But that wasn't the only thing they noticed as they got closer to the cave opening.  There was a steady tone, rather like a single note being played by a flute.  Looking up at the stone pillars flanking the cave, whose straight lines and sharp angles showed they had been carved or built into their forms instead of arriving in their shapes naturally, the heroes could see that near the top of each 25-foot column was an angled gap, and the wind coming down from the mountain blew past these gaps, causing the tone.  They could see no effect coming from the pillars other than the noise and couldn't figure out its purpose: as a warning, perhaps?  A means for the scouts and food-gathering parties to find their way back to the nest?

But then the wind died down, the noise stopped, and the cave opening winked out as if popped like a bubble.  The group of five, who had been stealthily approaching the cave opening, now found themselves stealthily approaching the blank side of a mountain.

"Um, what?" asked Zander from the rear of the formation.  But soon after the wind picked back up, the tone started back up, and like a shimmering mirage the cave opening was back in place.  Thurloe thought he knew what was going on, but they were too close to the cave opening now to allow talk amongst themselves without potentially alerting the formian myrmarch of their presence.  So, using hand signals only, he indicated for them to silently sneak onto the cave and take out the giant formian with the javelins.

Unfortunately for the heroes, there were two side passageways coming from the central cave chamber, and from the corridor to the right scrambled the familiar form of a formian taskmaster.  It spotted the heroes, sent some telepathic signal of warning to the myrmarch (for the larger insect spun about to face them, glowing stone in hand), and tried _dominating_ Thurloe, to no avail - his _protection from evil_ spell kept him safe on that front.

Then the myrmarch waved a hand in the direction of the cave opening and a _dictum_ spell exploded around the heroes.  Neither Alewyth nor Wakuren were the least bit affected by the magical attack, whereas Thurloe, Xandro, and Zander all found themselves deafened and under a _slow_ effect.  But even though he couldn't hear himself speak, Thurloe decided to cut their losses.  "Everybody out!!" he called back to his friends.  "Alewyth - take out the pillars!"

Scrambling back out of the cave in an unaccustomed retreat, Alewyth looked up at the pillar to the left of the cave.  It was too angular to be natural, that much was certain, but as she examined its texture she could see it hadn't been carved from an existing chunk of stone; rather, it had been assembled, likely by creatures chewing up stone into a pulpy mess and then shaping it, inch by patient inch.  (She was correct in her assessment, but hadn't taken into account the other materials added to the chewed stone: the remains of local denizens, whose pulped bones and dried blood helped anchor the structure together.)  But seeing as it wasn't unworked stone, her _soften earth and stone_ spell would be ineffective if she cast it directly upon the pillar itself - so she cast it at the ground upon which the pillar was anchored.  And then she ran at the pillar, toppling it over to fall to the ground and shatter.

The cave opening, with a battle-ready formian taskmaster and myrmarch still inside, winked out of existence at the moment the shattered pillar stopped adding its wind-tone to the other one.  Not having a second _soften earth and stone_ spell prepared, Alewyth made do with attacking the other pillar with _Sjondra_, and soon it too lay in ruins.

"Explanations?" asked Zander, once the deafness had left his ears.

"The other side of the cave opening, past those pillars - all that was on another plane of existence," Thurloe explained.  "When the wind blew, it aligned the extraplanar gateway from the nest, so it could more or less open a door to our world.  With the pillars smashed, they don't have a means to come back here.  The rest of the nest is fine, on whatever plane it's on, but now they can't come back here."

"Then how did they get here in the first place?" demanded Alewyth.

"Easy: they opened up a planar gateway that just happened to end up here, pushed through a couple formian workers, and they got busy building those pillars.  They'd serve as a sort of 'homing device,' so when the nest opened up another gate, it would lock in to this location.  They can still open up a gate from the nest - that might even be what that shining stone the big guy was holding was all about - but they have no way of opening it at any specific location."

"So it'll just open up somewhere else in the world?" Alewyth pushed.  "So we just made it somebody else's problem?"

"No guarantees the gate would even open up anywhere on this world at all," Thurloe argued.  "The Material Plane is a really big place, and our planet is just one of who knows how many a planar gate could link up to."

"Still, maybe we should have taken care of the whole nest while we had the chance," Alewyth continued.  "They could show up anywhere, maybe where there wouldn't be anyone to stop them like we could have."

"I got news for you, sister," Thurloe replied.  "There's no way we could have taken down an entire nest of those things.  Do you have any idea how many of those bugs there are in a full-blown nest?  And that big one we saw, that deafened us?  That's not even the most powerful type of those bugs there are.  Believe me, this was the best solution."

"I guess," Alewyth sighed.

 - - -

This was a pretty short session, lasting just about three hours.  I had designed four chambers in the nest before the big door which led to the main nest, which was far beyond the PCs' abilities to handle.  I didn't even bother designing the nest beyond the security doors, either, instead beefing up the security there to make it quite evident the PCs were in over their heads.  But they didn't even need to enter the nest to figure out the importance of the pillars (the concept of which I got from an old movie, "Phase Four," about a nest of super-intelligent mutant ants out in the desert, although their pillars were sonic weapons, I believe).

I did introduce once change in procedures, though: before this session, I made initiative cards and flat tokens of the monsters typically summoned by the spellcasters.  So when Zander used _summon swarm_ to call forth a swarm of bats, I had a "Zander's summoned bat swarm" initiative card to place into the initiative deck and a 2-inch-by-2-inch "swarm of bats" token (with a "Z" in one corner to tell it apart from any other bat swarms that might be in play; Thurloe knows the _summon swarm_ spell, for instance, so I made up a separate initiative card and token for his own bat swarm) to place on the battle board.  After the session, I had Vicki go through her _summon monster I-IV_ spells and pick out a couple from each list, the ones she'd most likely be summoning, so I could have them at the ready.  (She's already summoned a celestial bison and Small earth elementals several times, so I already had those ready.)  In any case, I think it should streamline play, so we're not coming to a crashing halt to gather up the stats for a summoned creature whenever such a spell comes into play.

 - - -

T-shirt worn: My Einstein shirt, as it has the smoke from his pipe expanding into galaxies.  It's my go-to shirt for depicting any of the Outer Planes.


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## Richards (Nov 29, 2022)

*ADVENTURE 39: PREGNANT PAUSE*

PC Roster: 
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 8​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 3/spellsword 2​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 4/paladin 4​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 6/rogue 2​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 8​
Game Session Date: 19 November 2022

 - - -

"Tonight we're going to examine a different type of dream, kupo!" Mogo explained, opening a door in the Corridor of Dreams and ushering inside the five dreamwalkers he'd been assigned by the Queen of Dreams to train in the art of interacting with the dreams of other people.  Stepping inside, the dreamwalkers immediately saw the truth of the little moogle's words, for this dreamscape was unlike any other they'd ever seen.  Instead of a dreamscape vista like the ones to which they'd become been accustomed, they seemed to be inside a large room, lit only by the moving images displayed on a vertical wall ahead of them.

"We call this a 'first-person view' dream, kupo!" Mogo explained.  "You're seeing everything through the eyes of the person who's dreaming, kupo.  And usually – but not always – it's because the dream is a memory of something that really happened, kupo!"

"Doesn't this make it more difficult to alter the dream?" wondered Alewyth. 

"Oh, absolutely, kupo!  It's not impossible, but it's much harder to alter a dream of a memory of something that actually occurred, kupo!  But let's see what this dream has to offer - I picked a first-person dream of someone who was dreaming about one of you, kupo!"

As one, the five dreamwalkers gave the screen their undivided attention, eager to see which of them was the subject of the dream.  So far, none of them was visible in the dream, for the screen showed the vantage point of someone riding a horse.  Off to the side, another figure was riding another horse alongside the dreamer, but it was difficult to make out any features on the other rider.  Then there was an audible cry of pain and the screen's image turned sideways - apparently the dreamer had fallen from the horse being ridden.  The screen momentarily darkened, leaving the five dreamwalkers and their moogle instructor without any light at all.

"Did you see that?" asked Zander.

"See what?" asked Wakuren.

"Right before the screen went sideways - there was a little rock or something coming in from the left.  Sling bullet, maybe."

Then the screen started lightening up again, and this time there was a face covering most of the screen.  He rocked back and forth in a rhythmic fashion, and it took a moment for the dreamwalkers to figure out what the dreamer was experiencing, as all they were experiencing was the visual point of view of the dreamer - who was apparently laying upon her back where she'd fallen from the horse, and now had someone atop her, grunting and thrusting.  Alewyth's mouth opened in shock and surprise, but before she could put voice to her outrage she gave a little shriek of surprise, for a long blade came swinging in from the side, cutting through the attacker's neck.  Blood sprayed forward towards the screen as the head went flying off to the side, out of view.

"Hey, wait a minute..." began Thurloe, squinting at the figure holding the lengthy sword that had just been used to decapitate the person lying atop the dreamer.  The figure was much younger than Thurloe had ever seen him, but he looked an awful lot like Fraser, the man who had taught him how to first wield a bastard sword.  The spellsword suddenly had a pretty good idea which of the five of them was going to be featured in this dream....

Sure enough, the dream-screen went black again for a moment, and then suddenly the dreamer was still lying on her back, but she was in a decent house covered with a blanket, and she was holding a little baby in her arms, wrapped up in swaddling clothes apparently moments after having been born.  Standing beside her was a man Thurloe instantly recognized as his Uncle Marten, which would make the dreamer his Aunt Charlotte, as he had begun to suspect.  "Are you sure about this, Charlotte?" Marten asked, to which she replied, "What else can we do, Marten?  We'll just raise him as if he was ours.  If he ever asks when he gets older, we'll just tell him his parents died when he was little."

Mogo opened the door back to the Corridor of Dreams.  "Uh, sorry about that, kupo," he said, visibly embarrassed.  "I, uh, probably should have checked the dream out ahead of time, kupo.  Come on, let's find a different point-of-view dream somewhere else, kupo."  The others exited the dreamscape after the moogle.

"You okay?" Xandro asked Thurloe, looking over at the swordsman.

"Yeah.  I guess I'll have a real interesting topic of conversation the next time I see my 'Aunt Charlotte,'" he replied.

The next morning, after a successful bout of dream training, the group awakened and went about their normal business.  The next dream victim was in a place called Sun Valley, a little farming village.  They arrived shortly after noon, to find a cluster of little farms, a single tavern, and a small temple of Cal - and that, apparently, was the sum total of Sun Valley.  "It ought to be easy to find our dreamer," prompted Xandro, looking on the bright side.  "What do you think, tavern or temple?"

"Temple," Wakuren answered at once.  Having trained as both a cleric and a paladin of the God of Air and Healing, he was eager to see what this small temple had to offer.

"Temple it is, then," replied Scarlie, steering the two mules hitched to the wagon that way.  The others followed on their mounts.  There were a couple of hitching posts in front of the small temple, and - somewhat incongruously - a pair of angel statues holding up the roof at the building's front, a rather ostentatious display for the temple of a small farming village.  But inside, the church was pretty much what Wakuren had expected: two rows of wooden pews with an aisle down the middle, a raised stage at the back with a podium so the cleric could give his sermons, and a pair of doors at the back.  The door to the left was closed but the one to the right was open, and a man stepped out upon hearing visitors to his temple.

"May I help you?" asked *Father Bristol*, smiling at the newcomers - until his gaze reached Wakuren.  Then his smile hardened to a frown, seeing the symbols of his god emblazoned upon the shield and tabard worn by a half-orc, of all things.

Wakuren chose not to take offense, realizing full well most half-orcs in the world didn't take up the calling of a servant to Cal, God of Air and Healing.  "We're looking for anyone in your village who might have fallen into a dream coma," he answered, giving Father Bristol a friendly smile.

"What is the meaning of this...mockery?" demanded Father Bristol.  "Are you seriously trying to pass yourself as a cleric of Cal?"

"A cleric and a paladin," corrected Wakuren.

"Preposterous!  Who would dare ordain an orc as a cleric - or as a paladin?"

"Half-orc," Wakuren corrected him.  "I did not get any choice in my parentage, but Cal has seen fit to grant me spells.  I would tend to believe He has found me worthy in His eyes."

"But...a half-orc cleric...that does nothing but drag us all down to your level!  I mean, if any old damned orc can cast spells, that really lowers the bar for the rest of us.  After all, how hard can it be to become a cleric of Cal if a lowly orc can join the team?"

"Now wait just a minute," snarled Alewyth, angered on her friend's behalf.  But Xandro, as always, managed to smooth things over with the locals.  "Perhaps we can get back to our main reason for being here," he suggested.  "We have been traveling the lands, rescuing people who have fallen asleep and been unable to wake up on their own.  Is there anyone around here who fits that description?"

"Well, yes," admitted Father Bristol, seemingly pleased to be speaking to a human.  "*Allison Dormigliona*.  She's been asleep for about two months now.  I tried everything I could to wake her, but none of my spells were effective.  Strangely, she doesn't seem to have suffered any ill effects, though."

"That's the way this dream sickness manifests," Xandro explained.  "The body undergoes a sort of magical stasis, requiring no food or drink while the person just dreams."  But he got directions to the Dormigliona farm from the cleric, thanked him, and led the group back out the way they had come.

"Petty old bigot," grumbled Alewyth as she climbed back onto her dire goat Pyrite's saddle.  They found their way to the Dormigliona farmhouse without any trouble; it was a series of connected buildings with a large barn.  Leaving the wagon and the riding mounts in the clearing, the group knocked on several of the doors, with no answer.  Then Zander saw the metal triangle on a pole to the side of the house and hit it several times with the metal clapper hanging from it by a leather cord.  Before too long, *Elmer Dormigliona* came up to the side of the house from the fields where he'd been working alone.  "Help you folks?" he asked, scrubbing his hands clean on a rag at his belt.

"We were rather hoping we might be able to help you," Alewyth answered, explaining the reason for their travels.  Elmer brightened up at once, eagerly bringing them into the house and to the bedroom in the back, where his wife Allison lay asleep in their bed, on her back.  The size of her belly showed she was quite pregnant.  "How far along is she?" Alewyth asked.

"Well, that's kind of tricky," Elmer answered.  "She was eight months along when she fell asleep, and judging by the looks of her she's still about eight months along.  But she's been sleeping there for two months now.  Whatever's put her in a trance or whatever's done the same thing to our baby."

Alewyth explained the procedure to Elmer as the others made their standard preparations: pulling the bed into the middle of the room so they could sit around it in a ring, placing a leather headband around Allison's head with a dreamstone centered on her forehead, and Zander activating his _jade cooshee_ and setting the elven dog on guard duty.  "What should I do?" asked Elmer.

"You stand right here and look after us while we're sleeping here," Thurloe answered.  "We'll station Scarlie just outside the house, and you guys make sure we're not disturbed.  And with any luck, you wife will be awake in a few minutes."

Alewyth, on a sudden hunch, cast a _magic circle against evil_ spell upon herself before taking her position on the floor at the foot of Allison's bed.  Then she closed her eyes, slowed her breathing, and entered a dream state.  "Hey, kupo!" said her moogle guide Calliope as she entered the Dreamlands.  Together, they met up with the others in the Corridor of Dreams, the doors of which Mogo had reshuffled once again to get to Allison's dream.

Stepping through the door, Alewyth and the others saw this was not one of the first-person dreams like the one they'd seen the night before, but a more standard one where they could interact with the dreamer.  And there, sitting on a rock, was Allison Dormigliona, just as pregnant here in her dream as she was in real life - and had been for the past two months.  Allison looked up at the five dreamwalkers, not at all alarmed at their presence.  "Are you lost, too?" she asked.

Wakuren looked around the dreamscape and saw they were in a clearing, but all around them was a maze whose walls were made of stalks of living corn.  The plants were pressed tightly together; unlike the standard corn maze, it didn't look like you would be able to just push your way through a wall if needed.  "Apparently we are," he answered the young mother-to-be.

"The passageways are very confusing - they change when you're not looking.  And we're not alone in here, you know," Allison confided in the heroes.  "I keep hearing somebody following me, almost like he's stalking me."

"That's probably how we wake her from the dream," mused Xandro.  "Deal with whoever it is hunting her in the maze."

"Well, the first thing to do is make sure whoever's after you can't get to you," suggested Alewyth, pulling out Hesperna's lamp.  She pulled Allison to her feet, held her hand, and said the command word that shunted the two of them inside the extradimensional space inside the magic lamp.  In a moment she returned, alone.  "She should be safe in there," the dwarven priestess declared.

"You check her out?" Thurloe asked Wakuren.

"What?" the half-orc asked, perplexed.  "In what way?  She seems just as pregnant here in her dream--"

"No, no, I mean is she evil?" Thurloe interrupted.

"What?" repeated Wakuren.  "I didn't check her aura to see if she was evil!"  He was flabbergasted the spellsword even suspected Allison might be anything other than what she appeared to be - an expectant mother-to-be.

"What about her husband?" Thurloe pressed.  "He's out there standing over our bodies.  You bother checking on him?"

Wakuren sighed, starting to get angry at this line of questioning.  "You can't just go around expecting everyone to be evil," he chided the spellsword.

"Yeah, well, I remember a time when it might have been nice to know ahead of time that the nice, old lady on the horse asking for directions was really a night hag!  Prep spells," commanded Thurloe, changing the direction of the conversation and casting a _mage armor_ spell upon himself.

"We don't even know what we're going to be up against," argued Zander.

"Doesn't matter - ready yourself for battle."  The elven sorcerer complied with a _mage armor_ spell of his own, followed by a _haste_ spell upon the entire group.  Alewyth repeated her _magic circle against evil_ spellcasting, while Wakuren cast the spells _align weapon_ and _heroism_ upon himself.  Once everyone indicated their readiness, Xandro started playing his song of inspirational courage on his _Dardolian lute_.  "Might as well let whoever's stalking her know right where we are," the bard figured.

There was a rustling among the corn stalks as passageways in the maze reconfigured themselves to the stalker's benefit.  Then the maze shifted such that there was now an open corridor right behind Thurloe, and in that passageway stood a nearly-nude man with batlike wings spreading out from his back.  His skin glistened as if recently oiled.  "You're not Allison," he purred.

"Nope," agreed Thurloe, spinning to face the newcomer.  "We're her bodyguards."

"Fair enough," replied the incubus, claws flashing in to scratch across the spellsword's face.  Zander blasted him with a _magic missile_ barrage and was momentarily surprised to see them strike him in his oiled chest but have no apparent effect.  This was either a peculiarity of the dream, the sorcerer mused, or the fiend had some sort of inherent resistance to spells.  Fighting from inside a dreamscape, either or both might be true.

The incubus repeated his claw attack against Thurloe but this time the swordsman ducked back out of range as he pulled the bastard sword from its scabbard on his broad back.  He brought _Spellslicer_ in at a sideways strike, hitting the incubus but once again failing to do too much damage.  Like its inherent spell resistance, the demon had an innate resistance to physical harm.  Alewyth further proved this supposition when she struck at the fiend with _Sjondra_, dealing him a perfectly good strike but failing to cause him nearly as much harm as she would have expected.  The incubus just smirked at their efforts, his smirk changing into a leer as he let his eyes roam over Alewyth's body.  "I guess you'll do just as well," he purred to himself.

With Xandro's magical tune aiding in the power of his strike, Wakuren found his _align weapon_ spell, cast upon his shield, managed to overcome whatever inherent protections the demon had against physical damage, for the _shield of Cal_ met the fiend's body with a bone-crunching sound that had the incubus gasping in unexpected pain.  Zander tried again with a _magic missile_ spell, faring no better than he had with his first attempt.  And despite the beating he'd just taken from Wakuren, the incubus focused his attention on Alewyth, the only woman on the scene.  He tried clawing her face, but the priestess of Aerik stepped back from his attack in time.

Thurloe found he did not like being ignored in battle.  Activating his _torc of the titans_, he swung again at the incubus, this time for all he was worth plus now with a little extra boost in the strength department.  He grinned as his sword dealt what he felt was more in the range of what damage it should.  Alewyth had no such strength-boosting magic at hand but she didn't let that stop her, for she knew each strike with _Sjondra_ - no matter how much the demon seemed to shrug it off - took him that much closer to being defeated.  She just snarled in wordless anger as she realized the incubus was suggestively thrusting his pelvis in her direction in between lashing out with his claws and trying to avoid incoming blows from her and her friends.  But eventually, Wakuren and his good-aligned shield managed to take the incubus down - and with the fiend slain, the dreamscape started fading away all around them.  "You think maybe this demon is the real father of the pregnant chick's baby?" Thurloe wondered aloud, earning him a barrage of "What's wrong with you?" comments.

Allison awoke from her two-month slumber to find herself surrounded by a ring of strangers.  She stifled a gasp of fear, as her husband pulled her close to him in a welcome hug.  Looking at the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window, Allison gasped, "Oh!  I'm sorry - I must have slept in!"  Elmer just laughed and began explaining just exactly how long Allison had slept in.  She obviously though he must be pulling her leg or something, when the bedroom door opened and Scarlie poked his head inside.  "Uh, guys, you might want to get out here, quick - we got a situation!"

Xandro picked up the _Dardolian lute_ and stepped outside, wondering what could possibly have worried Scarlie to such an extent.  He got his answer at once, for rounding the corner and stepping into the area where the group's wagon and animals stood came a mob of a couple of dozen or more farmers, all wielding pitchforks or clubs or whatever convenient tool that could be wielded as a weapon had been at hand.  The bard's keen eye picked up a couple of half-elves in amongst what was otherwise an exclusively human mob; they wore green cloaks and had scimitars at their belts - druids, Xandro assumed.  He also saw four acolytes wearing the symbol of Cal around their necks.  But most unmistakable of all was Father Bristol bringing up the rear, continuing a harangue he'd apparently started as the mob made their way to the Dormigliana residence.  "She's been pregnant now for ten months!" the cleric called out to his followers.  "I ask you: what human baby lies in the womb for ten months?  None!  This is evidence that this is no human baby waiting to be born, but a _devil_ from the lower planes!  And lo, the forces of evil have sent their emissaries to check on the demon-spawn's progress!  Five devils, in mortal guise, their leader an _orc_ blaspheming Cal by wearing the vestments of a cleric he slew on the way!  I have detected evil in every one of them!  They will not fool us with their schemes!"

Without conscious effort, Xandro's fingers began strumming the strings of his lute, and he began the words to his song of fascination, targeting both Father Bristol and one of a pair of roguish-looking scoundrels wielding short swords, deciding he was likely better versed in combat than the farmers surrounding him, none of which looked like they really wanted to be there.  Fortunately, the magic of the song caught up both targets and they stopped what they were doing, intent upon Xandro's every sung word and every plucked chord.  Father Bristol's diatribe sputtered to an immediate stop.

However, while most of the farmers were looking amongst themselves as if unsure of what to do without Father Bristol's words egging them on, the two half-elf druids were less uncertain.  Motioning with his hand, one of them sent two eagles flying down from the skies above to attack Xandro, hoping to put an end to the magical song affecting the spiritual leader of Sun Valley.  The great birds clawed at Xandro, but he effortlessly dodged their talons, never once letting up from his song.  The other druid cast a summoning spell, causing a full-grown hippogriff to manifest on the ground beside Xandro, wings flapping in agitation.

"_Haste_," Thurloe commanded, hearing the fracas outside.  Zander cast the spell on everyone as directed, then followed the spellsword as he dashed out the back door of the farmhouse, circling around the building so he could flank the mob from the north.  His cooshee, still active even though his guard-the-sleeping-dreamwalkers duty was finished for the day, followed at his master's heels.  The other human rogue, unaware that his partner wasn't with him, sprinted up at Xandro and tried stabbing the bard with his short sword.  Xandro spun to the side and took a small cut in his arm as a result but that didn't cause him to miss as much as a beat of his song.

Alewyth strode to the north, past the doorway in which Xandro was standing, and opened another door from the kitchen area.  From there, she could see the hippogriff and, realizing it was most likely here as a result of a summoning spell, cast a _dispel magic_ spell of her own upon the great beast.  It spun in her direction, beak open in fury, and then disappeared as quickly as it had first arrived, the dwarf's spell having successfully worked its magic.

Wakuren activated his _ring of invisibility_ and stepped outside, slipping past Alewyth and dodging the shifting farmers.  One farmer threw a rock at Xandro and then approached with a kitchen knife at the ready, but most of the others seemed apprehensive, nobody really wanting to be the first to attack people that looked like...well, people.  And none of the farmers wanted to have to grab Allison Dormigliona, who was after all one of their townsfolk, somebody they'd known for years.  Surely she hadn't been having relations with a devil or demon.

Two clerics, however, seemed intent upon doing just that: getting to Allison.  They entered the house from the northernmost door, over by the triangle where Zander had first called Elmer in from the fields.  Once inside, they made their way south through the house, heading for the bedroom where they expected Allison would be.  Allison and Elmer, however, were being herded by Scarlie into the barn, the half-orc wagon driver holding out his dagger, the only weapon he had on hand, in case anybody tried getting to either of the farm-folk.  Scarlie wasn't quite sure what was going on, but he had full faith that the five people he worked for would sort it out.  In the meantime, he wished he had a drink on hand....

The two other acolytes cast _shield of faith_ spells on themselves and prepared to move in, scimitars in hand - if the weak-willed farmers weren't willing to take on these demons in mortal form, then by Cal they'd do it!  Xandro was still concentrating on his song, trying to weave in a _suggestion_ that Father Bristol call his troops to stand down, but despite the cleric's having been caught up in the _fascination_ effect, Xandro couldn't seem to magically compel him to confess he'd lied about the five heroes being demons.

The druids each cast _longstrider_ spells on themselves and followed the two clerics into the Dormigliona farmhouse, while their eagles pressed on the attack from the air around Xandro's head.  But Thurloe, seeing the bard's predicament, aimed his _wand of magic missile_ at the closest of the two birds and fired off a charge, hitting it in the torso.  Zander followed up with the same spell of his own, targeting the same eagle and killing it.

However, Xandro wasn't out of the woods yet.  He now only had one eagle trying to claw him with its talons, but he still had a rogue trying to gut him with his short sword.  Fortunately, the rogue's skill with his blade wasn't as developed as his bravado, and Xandro managed to dodge most of the attacks.

Alewyth stepped outside - and in doing so managed to miss spotting the druids turning the corner in the kitchen and make their way through the house interior behind her - and tossed a tanglefoot bag at one of the two acolytes outside among the farmers.  The bag hit and exploded into a gooey mess which instantly hardened in the outside air, gluing the young man in place.  Alewyth hefted _Sjondra_ over her head, showing it to the assembled mob.  "I've got much more deadlier tactics at hand," she called out, "but I've chosen t' use nonlethal methods!  Let this be a demonstration o' me good faith - I don't wanna hurt any o' ye if'n I can help it!"  Unnoticed, in her excitement her speech started devolving into the slang brogue preferred by most members of the dwarven races.  But her words - and actions - caused the group around her to hold their actions, most of them wanting to believe this was all some sort of mistake.

Wakuren, by this time, had invisibly maneuvered himself over to Father Bristol and was surprised to note the man's aura held no trace of evil.  That was certainly strange!  Looking around at the assembled mob of farmers, the half-orc was similarly perplexed when he saw no traces of evil among any of the people there, either.  In fact, the farmers were mostly egging on other members to go start a fight with one of the strangers Father Bristol had labeled as demons.  "Go get 'im, Fergus!" one would suggest, pointing at Xandro, only to have Fergus come back with, "Whyn't you go get him, Billy?"

Inside the barn, the two acolytes crowded around Scarlie.  They stabbed with their scimitars but failed to connect.  Elmer, in the meantime, was steering Allison over to the back stalls, where their one horse and one cow bunked for the night.  And then a little winged humanoid appeared in the air above Scarlie's head.  "We must kill the humans, Master, to ensure the safety of the demonspawn about to be born!" it said, causing the half-orc to look up at it in surprise and confusion.  Where did this thing come from and what was it saying?  It didn't make any sense.  By then, the half-elf druids had made it through most of the house and were entering the hallway leading to the door to the barn; their eyes widened as the quasit's words reinforced what Father Bristol had claimed - Allison Dormigliona had been impregnated by a fiend!

Xandro was still dodging the talons of the remaining eagle and the mobile rogue while trying to get Father Bristol to succumb to his _suggestion_, but the cleric's will was resisting the magical effect.  Thurloe and Zander, with the elven cooshee following in their wake, pushed through the part of the crowd Alewyth had calmed and headed over by the barn.  Alewyth continued calling out to the others to stop their attacks, but the rogue seemed focused upon killing Xandro - or at least getting him to stop playing the song on his lute that had somehow paralyzed Father Bristol.  Wakuren, alerted by the shouts coming from inside the barn, focused his magical sight in that direction and was disappointed to sense a palpable sense of evil coming from that direction.  _Thurloe better not have been right about the Dormiglionas_, he thought to himself as he rushed, still invisible, over to the barn doors.  Once there, he thrust the doors open wide (the action causing the nearby farmers to fall back in surprise, for to them the doors seemed to have opened by themselves), and among startled cried of "Ghosts!" from the farmers, he saw the quasit flying above the acolytes' heads, slashing at them with his poison-dripping claws.  The two slashed at the flying creature with their scimitars, but the quasit was fairly maneuverable in the air and managed to avoid their weapons.

One of the druids continued down the hall and entered the barn to see the quasit there, attacking the two acolytes of Cal, while the other one decided he'd rather take his chances with the demons that at least looked to be mortal.  Ducking out a side door, he brought his scimitar slashing at Alewyth, whose back had been turned to the half-elf.  Thurloe, seeing that, hefted his bastard sword and announced loudly that the next person to attack the dwarf was going to find his head separated from his body in no time.  His fierce scowl in the direction of the half-elf druid certainly gave the belief that this was no idle threat.  Zander, in the meantime, did his best to calm down the farmers over by the barn, telling them they needed to stop attacking people who weren't attacking them.  "But by all means, defend yourself against _actual_ demons," he added, pointing to the quasit.

Wakuren focused his _detect evil_ sense on the Dormiglionas and breathed out a sigh of relief when he got back a negative response.  Then he looked over at the quasit and sure enough, it had been the thing that had triggered his senses.  The quasit, in the meantime, had noticed the barn doors were open and took advantage of the situation, flying over to them and calling out, "Excellent, my demonic brethren - let us slay all of the humans to save the demonspawn about to be born!"  It chuckled at the confusion this statement caused, with farmers mumbling to themselves about how Father Bristol had been right all along.  They started looking at Xandro, still playing his lute and avoiding attacks from a sword-wielding rogue and an enraged eagle as best he could, with a critical eye - was he really a demon in disguise?  Xandro, for his part, was getting frustrated that the cleric was able to resist his attempts at weaving a _suggestion_ spell into his song - he wasn't sure how long he could keep up the attempts before one of his foes forced him to stop the song altogether.

Unfortunately for the quasit, its showboating in front of the frightened peasants brought it within striking range of Wakuren's shield.  The farmers all gasped aloud when an enraged half-orc suddenly appeared before them, his shield slamming into the flying demon and causing it to veer around erratically in the air, desperately trying not to fall to the ground.  But no matter how erratically he flew, a _magic missile_ spell from Thurloe's wand wasn't going to have any difficulty in striking him down, and it did just that - one blast and that was it for the troublemaking quasit.  Wakuren bent down and lifted it up by the scruff of its neck.  "We are not demons!" he called out to the farmer.  "We are slayers of demons!  Now everyone, put down your weapons!"

The farmers lowered their weapons and the druid waved away his eagle companion, who seemed more than happy to fly off to the top of the barn's roof and look over the mob from there.  About that time, Xandro's spell finally overcame Father Bristol's willpower and he followed the _suggestion_ the bard had woven into his tune.  "Stand down!" Father Bristol reiterated.  "This has all been a mistake!"

And then, as if having the _suggestion_ spell overcome his will opened up a dam, more declarations came pouring forth.  "Everything I said, about Allison's baby and demons and everything, it was all forced out of me!"  He turned to Zander, the closest of the heroes to him.  "But there is a demon, hidden in the mausoleum of the temple!  He took over my mind, made me say things I never would have said if my will had been my own!"  Looking over at Wakuren, who was approaching along with the other heroes, he added, "All of those things I said about orcs - that was the demon, trying to goad you into battle, for its own amusement!  I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

Under questioning by Thurloe, Father Bristol described the demon as a "hunched over thing, with vertebrae growing up out of its back," giving the spellsword enough to go by to announce they were probably up against a cerebrilith.  "They like controlling and dominating other beings," he told the others.

"Then let's go get it!" replied Wakuren, eager to slay this demon who had taken over the mind of a cleric of Cal and tried to get the heroes to slay a bunch of farmers in self-defense.  Father Bristol, to his shame, said he feared returning to the temple, not wanting the demon to take over his mind again.  Wakuren reassured him on that front, saying he was better off staying behind and keeping the villagers safe, while the five heroes went in to confront the demon.  "This is part of what we do, as adventurers," he told the village cleric.

As they approached the temple, Thurloe had everyone cast whatever spells they thought they'd need.  Wakuren and Thurloe had _protection from evil_ spells cast upon them, as one of the effects of the spell protected them from mind-affecting attacks.  Alewyth, with her _magic circle against evil_ spell still active, would have to stick close to Zander and Xandro to ensure they remained safe inside her area of effect.  Wakuren cast _align weapon_, _divine favor_, and _entropic shield_ upon himself and his shield, enhancing his combat abilities significantly.  Alewyth cast _bless_ and _prayer_ spells on the group, and Father Bristol cast what spells he had available on the group to aid them in their quest: an _owl's wisdom_ spell on Alewyth, a _bear's endurance_ spell on Wakuren, and a _shield of faith_ spell upon Thurloe.  "It's a good thing you took me out of the fight so quickly," he told Xandro, "or I'd likely have wasted those spells on myself, as I was forced to fight you."  He then told the group the temple had a permanent _hallow_ effect, which included a permanent _light_ spell, covering all but his own quarters.  "That was on purpose, so I could get some sleep at night," he admitted.

The group of five adventurers strolled boldly into the temple, Zander, Xandro and the cooshee sticking close to Alewyth, lest they become susceptible to mental domination.  Xandro began the tune to his song of inspirational courage, figuring the demon would know soon enough they were there in any case - Thurloe was pretty sure it was telepathic, so it might already be aware of their presence.  They moved between the rows of pews to the door at the back of the raised stage which led to the mausoleum.  Wakuren opened the door and saw another door before him; it took a moment for him to realize there was no light back there and he was seeing via his inherent darkvision; the demon must have canceled out the _hallow_ effect in some way, which took the _light_ spell with it.  But according to Father Bristol, the door before him led to the actual mausoleum, where the founder of the temple was interred; there were doors all along the hallway that ringed the mausoleum, where other bodies had been placed in their coffins.  This whole area was built of stone, in contrast to the rest of the temple which was wooden; Wakuren supposed the cerebrilith liked it back here because the thick stone walls would block any _detect evil_ spells that might give away its location.

After looking at the others and gauging their readiness, Wakuren pulled open the mausoleum door.  Instantly, his body was covered in writhing spiders; the cerebrilith in the back of the mausoleum had cast a _summon swarm_ spell it had at the ready for as soon as anybody opened the door.  Wakuren involuntarily shook his body about, trying to dislodge as many of the spiders as he could, while they in turn bit at him where they could reach unprotected flesh.

Thurloe stayed well away from the spiders and cast a _Mhaurgh's acid arrow_ spell at the cerebrilith, but the spell fizzled and sputtered upon reaching the demon, snuffed out by the fiend's resistance to spells.  It retaliated with an _unholy blight_ spell, catching all five heroes and the elven dog in its area of effect and causing them varying levels of pain, from Thurloe and Xandro, who were physically sickened by the attack, to Zander and the cooshee, who hardly seemed affected at all.  The elven sorcerer, seeing Wakuren writhe under the constant spider-bites of the swarm of arachnids encompassing him, opted to get rid of the spiders the quickest way he knew how: by blasting his half-orc friend with a _burning hands_ spell.  Wakuren cried out in pain as the flames covered his body, but then the flames were gone and the spiders had all been burned to a crisp.  "Thanks!" he called to Zander.

Alewyth cast a _dismissal_ spell at the cerebrilith, hoping to send it back to whatever foul plane had spawned it, but it had no more effect than Thurloe's acidic spell.  Wakuren summoned a celestial bison into the mausoleum, making it a tight fit in there with two large creatures, but he figured that might work to their advantage.  The bison instinctively gored the cerebrilith with its massive horns, dealing the foul beast its first dose of pain.

Thurloe and Wakuren stepped forward, the spellsword swinging his bastard sword and the half-orc slamming the cerebrilith with his shield.  Each managed to deal it some damage despite the thickness of its bony hide.  Then the fiend reached into its magical repertoire and cast another summoning spell (although the pair of heroes each got in another attack with their weapons of choice as the demon's attention was focused on its calling forth allies), this one resulting in 14 dretches suddenly appearing.  Two of them showed up inside the crowded mausoleum, but most of the others ended up inside the burial niches ringing the mausoleum.  Doors to the niches popped open as the glistening, fetid bodies of the feral demons stepped outside, eager to attack their summoner's foes.  However, this posed a bit of a problem, for the heroes at hand - Alewyth, Xandro, Zander, and the cooshee were all still back in the chapel part of the temple - were all protected by _protection from evil_ spells that prevented the summoned dretches from being able to even touch them, let alone rend them with their claws or bite them with their teeth.  It was a dejected group of dretches that realized they had been brought forth to attack a bunch of foes they couldn't even touch.  (The two inside the mausoleum proper at least were able to vent their attacks upon the celestial bison.)

Zander tried a _scorching ray_ at the cerebrilith, only for the spell to fizzle out upon arrival once again.  Alewyth, seeing the ring of frustrated dretches (and knowing that if she attacked them directly, any of them she attacked would be able to reciprocate), summoned a celestial dire badger beside one of them and set it to the attack.  The dretch actually seemed pleased to have a raging mammal biting and clawing it, for it meant he could do likewise, which certainly beat standing around not being able to do anything.  The dretch even got the better of the deal in the first round of attacks - although the dire badger, once bloodied, became an even deadlier combat machine as it flew into a blood-red rage.

Wakuren pressed the attack with his _shield of Cal_, bringing it crashing down on the cerebrilith's armored head with every ounce of strength he possessed - and was pleased to hear the sounds of cracking and shattering bone as individual pieces of its outgrown vertebrae went flying.  Thurloe activated the power of his magical torc to bring a bit more of his own strength to play, cutting deep into the fiend's body with the blade of his bastard sword.  That was it, the cerebrilith decided; it had been fun stirring up trouble in Sun Valley after it had escaped days ago from a foolish wizard's _planar gate_, but discretion was by all means the better part of valor and the fiend didn't want these mortals putting an end to its potentially immortal existence.  But that's exactly what happened; to the accompaniment of Xandro's song of inspirational courage, Thurloe and Wakuren brought their weapons to bear as the fiend tried instantly escaping, and while the spellsword's blade managed to bury itself a bit into a bony shoulder, Wakuren's shield crushed through its skull, slaying the demon instantly.

"Oh, praise Cal!" Father Bristol sighed when the five heroes returned outside the temple to inform him the demon had been slain - and the dretches it had summoned vanished as soon as it was dead, much to the consternation of a battle-crazed dire badger from the celestial realms.  He shook his head at the thought of how much damage the demon could have brought to their little farming community, if it hadn't been for these traveling dreamwalkers seeking out Allison Dormigliona.

"Here," he said to Wakuren, pulling an item from a pocket of his robes.  "This is scant reward for all the good you've done us - and in repayment for the terrible things I said about you upon your arrival - but I think this would see better use in your hands than in mine."  Handing it over, Wakuren looked to see what it was the cleric had given him.  It was a headband, which the half-orc placed around his temple.  "It's a _headband of Cal_," Father Bristol explained, "granting its wearer a pocket of cool, clean air, even when underwater or in a smoke-filled room.  I don't have many occasions where such a power would do me any good, tending to the farmers in the village."

Wakuren placed a hand upon the cleric's shoulder.  "Thank you," he said.  "May Cal be with you."

"And with you," Father Bristol replied, then watched as the heroes mounted their animals and rode off, heading to the next dream victim on their seemingly endless list of those trapped by the machinations of the Nightmare King.

 - - -

This was an unusual adventure, as I wanted to try something different: none of the foes (save Father Bristol) was much of a threat against a party of 8th-level characters, but they were all innocent dupes unworthy of being killed in battle.  Fortunately, Xandro's well-timed _fascination_ took Father Bristol out of the equation almost instantly, and the players managed not to have their PCs kill any of their foes (with the exception of one eagle animal companion).  And then, protected as they were from attacks by summoned creatures, the dretches were likewise completely ineffective.  However, despite all that, I at least managed to deal some damage to each of the PCs this time, which hasn't been the case in recent history.  (They all came out pretty much unscathed from "Nest Quest.")

Vicki was also a bit concerned when the dream opponent turned out to be an incubus; I don't think she's fully recovered from dealing with the incubus Malaterminus in our "Kordovian Adventurers Guild" campaign.

As for Thurloe's back story (as the PCs watched in the dream of his "Aunt Charlotte"), that was what Dan had come up with as far as Thurloe's parentage went; I took what he had given me and made it a dream sequence, since that seemed like a good way to get the truth of the matter out into the open.  We'll see what all Thurloe and Charlotte (and Marten, for that matter) have to say to each other the next time they meet up.  (Why they didn't just tell Thurloe he was their kid in the first place is a mystery to me - that seems like it would have been so much simpler....)

 - - -

T-shirt worn: My "Moore/Hanes Family Reunion" T-shirt, because it has a silhouette of a "family tree" on it, and the Dormiglionas were just starting their own family.


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## Richards (Dec 17, 2022)

*ADVENTURE 40: HOG WILD*

PC Roster: 
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 8​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 3/spellsword 2​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 4/paladin 4​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 6/rogue 2​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 8​
Game Session Date: 4 December 2022

 - - -

"Well," said Thurloe, looking down at the eight-year-old boy rolling around naked at his feet, "this is already a bit disturbing."

"It's still better than a first-person point-of-view dream of your conception," pointed out Xandro.

"Yeah, I'll grant you that," Thurloe admitted.

This time, finding their way to the next dream victim had been incredibly easy: upon entering the town of Centraldale, they found printed notices plastered all over the place, announcing a 1,000 gold piece award to anyone who could awaken the son of *Lord and Lady Tandervale*.  The notices listed the address of the Tandervale estate and the heroes had had no trouble finding the place.  Upon knocking on the door and offering their services, the five dreamwalkers had been escorted into *Charland Tandervale*'s room, where he had been sleeping for the last five weeks.  The Tandervales not only allowed the dreamwalkers to move his bed into the middle of the room and place a dreamstone upon his brow, held in place by a leather headband, but also provided two of their security staff to watch over them as they performed their ritual while sleeping in a ring around the bed.  Ever suspicious and slow to trust, Thurloe had insisted Zander activate his _jade cooshee_ and put the elven dog onto security detail as well, with orders to wake them up if anything suspicious occurred.

Now immersed into Charland's dream, Alewyth furrowed her brow in puzzlement and asked, "What's the matter, child?"  Charland had his arms clenched around his stomach and was rocking back and forth as if in great pain, whining, "Don't leave me, don't leave me...."

"We'll not leave you, I promise," Alewyth began, thinking the young aristocrat child had been talking to her and the four men with her visiting Charland's dream.  She quickly learned her mistake when, all of a sudden, Charland's left arm deflated as if an arm had been taken out of a sleeve.  His right arm deflated as well, and quick as a flash two sets of bony fingers appeared in the young boy's mouth.  The skeletal digits pulled the sides of the boy's mouth apart, far wider than would normally be possible - but this was merely a dream, subject only to dream logic.  Once the mouth was open wide enough to allow it, the boy's skull popped out from between his rubbery lips, then the lad's entire skeleton crawled out of his body, leaving behind a flopping pile of boneless skin that wailed, "No!  Come back!  I need you!"

But the skeleton had other ideas.  Dancing a happy little jig, it scampered about, singing, "Ya-ta-ta-ta-TAA-ta!  Ya-ta-ta-ta-TAA-ta!"

Thurloe looked down in disapproval of the pile of discarded flesh that had once been Charland Tandervale.  "Howzabout I cut this skin-blob to ribbons and see what happens?" he asked, pulling out the bastard sword from its sheath on his broad back.

"Nae!" scolded Alewyth, lapsing back into her dwarven brogue in irritation at the spellsword's suggestion.

"It seems likely we need to capture the boy's skeleton and return it to his body," Xandro proposed.  "Hey!  C'mere, you!"  The bard made a grab at the skeleton as it danced back but it was unusually spry for a pile of bones without a scrap of muscle to go with them.

"Ya-ta-ta-ta-TAA-ta!" the skeleton sang as it did a fancy dance step, avoiding the dreamwalkers in its way.

Zander just stood still, looking at the dancing skeleton.  He focused his will on the dreamscape itself, causing the floor of the room they were in to retract, shortening the distance between them and thus causing the fleeing skeleton to return to the boy's side.  "Please!" Charland the flesh-blob pleaded from his position on the floor.

"Nah-nah-nah-nah-NAH-nah!" scolded the capering skeleton, continuing its jaunty little dance.  "I'm a dancing bone thing - I'm an undead totem!  You are just a flesh-blob!  Just a living scrotum!"  Charland just continued his blubbering, the tears from his eyes mingling with the bubbles of snot leaking from his nose.

Wakuren was tempted to try turning the skeleton by presenting his holy symbol of Cal and seeing if it truly was undead, but then, as it scampered on by, the half-orc lashed out with his hand and grabbed the skeleton by the arm.  The entire right arm detached from the rest of the skeleton, who gave its missing appendage no notice at all as it continued dancing about.  Wakuren shrugged and returned to Charland.  Bending down, he grabbed the boy by his flopping lip, pulled open his mouth as wide as it would go, and dropped the skeletal arm into the boy's gullet.  There was a flurry of movement inside the flesh-bag that made up the boy's current form, and then his right arm filled in, just as it had been before the skeleton's sudden secession from the boy's body.  "Well, it works!" he told the others.

Alewyth followed suit, grabbing the dancing skeleton's left arm and having it snap off at the shoulder.  She stuffed it into Charland's mouth and it too found its normal position; the flesh-blob now had two normal-looking arms growing out of it, and it propped itself upright as best it could, even though that did little but raise the shoulders on upright arms while the rest of the body flopped onto the floor.

"I got a leg!" Xandro announced, stuffing the skeleton's left leg into Charland's open mouth.  The skeleton was now reduced to hopping about on one leg, but it was still making a pretty good speed and getting away until Zander "shrunk" the distance between them once again, bringing it closer.  Alewyth grabbed the other leg, leaving the skeleton limbless and doing its best to roll away.  As the dwarf stuffed the leg into Charland's rubbery mouth, Thurloe picked what remained of the skeleton up by the skull and dropped it into place.  As the bones repositioned themselves in their normal configuration, the walls of the dreamscape began melting - a sure sign the dream was ending and Charland Tandervale was waking up.

"Back to the Waking World!" Thurloe commanded, before turning to Wakuren and asking, "Did you check the Tandervales for signs of evil?"  Wakuren had already started the process of waking himself up from the induced sleep, so he answered once back in the Waking World.  "No, I don't intend to live in a constant state of suspicion like you seem to like to do!"

"You'd probably live longer if you did," scoffed the spellsword.  But now Charland was awake as well as the five dreamwalkers, and he looked around himself in confusion.  He was probably unaware that he was doing it, but he patted each of his limbs as if confirming they were all in place.  "Who are you?" he demanded.  "What are you doing in my bedroom?"

Lord and Lady Tandervale were beside themselves with joy at the successful awakening of their only son.  Lord Tandervale gratefully rewarded the five heroes with the promised thousand pieces of gold, and then insisted they stay for dinner, and overnight, and join him in a boar hunt the following morning with a pair of noblemen from the town.  "I insist!" he proclaimed.  "Never mind if you haven't been boar hunting before - we'll be more than happy to show you the ropes!"  Xandro replied that Lord Tandervale was presenting them with a great honor, knowing full well boar hunting was a sport enjoyed only by aristocrats, not those of common birth like the five heroes.  Lord Tandervale took that as acceptance of his offer and would hear no further talk of turning down the opportunity.

On the plus side, each of the heroes was given their own guest bedroom for the night, the dinner was quite delicious, and they were even allowed to avail themselves of the luxury of a hot bath.  "I could get used to this," admitted Zander.

The next morning, over an early breakfast, Lord Tandervale explained the rules of the hunt.  They would wear no armor and carry with them only the traditional weapons used for boar hunting: one longspear and one rapier per person.  They would also be riding light horses from the Tandervale stables, although the master of the estate allowed the heroes could ride their own mounts, should that be their preference.  (Thurloe, of course, opted to ride his own horse, Horse, and Xandro likewise decided to ride his own black mount, scampishly named White; Wakuren, having only a mule to ride - although Perseverance was usually hitched up to the wagon with Alewyth's mule, Mica - had no choice but to accept Lord Tandervale's offer of a borrowed mount.  Alewyth considered riding her dire goat Pyrite but decided she'd blend in better with the others if she rode one of the proffered horses from the Tandervale stables, and Zander chose to ride a borrowed mount just for the selfish reason he didn't want his own horse Eddy to come to any harm if the boars got nasty, as he'd heard they could do.)

Despite the "no armor" rule, Wakuren chose to wear his _shield of Cal_ upon his back; it was his only true "weapon" and he felt naked without it.  He likewise wore his _gauntlet of Cal_ on his right hand, thinking (quite rightly) that Lord Tandervale would consider them to be religious talismans and not make a fuss about his bringing them along.  Thurloe had no such religious excuse for bringing along _Spellslicer_, but he did anyway, vowing he'd leave the bastard sword sheathed on his back unless they ran into trouble.  Lord Tandervale chose not to comment upon this social faux pas.

As they were choosing their horses, the heroes opted to perform some surreptitious spellcasting as well.  Wakuren cast the spells _magic vestment_ and _shield of faith_ upon himself, if he wasn't going to be allowed to wear his full plate armor he'd make sure he was similarly protected by spells!  Alewyth also cast a _magic vestment_ spell upon herself, and Xandro wore his _Dardolian lute_ on his back, claiming he could perform for the noblemen on their way back from a no-doubt successful hunt.  But if the heroes didn't have the rest of their gear, it wasn't too far away, for it was all stashed inside the extradimensional interior of Hesperna's magic lamp, which Wakuren carried with him.

Two more noblemen rode up to the Tandervale estate on their own fine horses; *Lord Brokerville* upon a white stallion and *Lord Mantriculos* upon a gray horse with a coal-black mane.  Introductions were made all around, and if the other two noblemen were disappointed to share their hunt with a quintet of commoners they at least had the good grace not to show it.  (They were, however, quite impressed that the dreamwalkers had managed to awaken Charland Tandervale from his five-week sleep, stating the most powerful clerics from the local area had been unable to do so.)  Along with the two noblemen came a pair of commoners, holding the leashes of three hunting dogs between them.

"I believe we're all ready, then." announced Lord Tandervale, mounting his own horse, a chestnut brown in color.  "Let's be off!"  The dogs and their handlers led the way, followed by the three experienced hunters, followed by the five heroes.  Thurloe and Zander each cast a _mage armor_ spell upon themselves from the safety of the back row; the elf followed up his first spell with a _stoneskin_ spell.  He was, he knew, the frailest of the five and he had no compunctions about ensuring his safety when engaging in a dangerous sport he would normally stay well away from.

For the first entire hour, there was no action whatsoever.  Alewyth took it to be a pleasant outing and enjoyed being out on the fresh air.  The three lords did their best to seem interested in the heroes' tales of their exploits, but Xandro - who had been doing most of the talking - got the distinct impression the noblemen found "adventuring" to be somewhat beneath them.  Then, however, the dogs' ears pricked up and they began straining at the leash.  Up ahead, in a gap between trees along a forest path, the group could see the hindquarters of a good-sized boar, one of a group of eight.  "Now you'll see how it's done!" promised Lord Brokerville, spurring his horse forward as he lowered his longspear.

By unspoken agreement, the heroes allowed the three noblemen to lead the charge; this was, after all, their own sport and it would be somewhat in poor taste for the untrained heroes to show up their hosts, even if wild boars were a bit on the tame side compared to some of the monsters they'd already fought and killed in their adventuring careers.  But now that combat was imminent, Thurloe used a charge from his _wand of shield_ on himself and then passed it over to Zander so the elf could do likewise.  The noblemen, in the meantime, caught up to the hindmost boars but the pounding of the horses' hooves, and the baying of the hounds behind them, let the boars know there was danger afoot and they scattered, breaking off of the forest paths and scampering between the trees, especially where the gaps between the trees were too narrow to allow a horse to follow.  As a result, none of the noblemen's held longspears found their marks.

Alewyth urged her borrowed horse to follow behind the noblemen, careful to keep her spear pointed up so she didn't accidentally skewer any of them.  Wakuren also sent his horse speeding forward, but he took a path that led off to the west, where he hoped to flank the boars as they fled the noblemen coming in from the northeast.  Zander followed close behind the half-orc, while keeping pace beside his borrowed horse ran his elven dog.  The handlers released the hunting dogs from their leashes and they were all three off like bolts of lightning, barking furiously as they gave chase.

Xandro sent White racing off to the west, then leaped from the saddle and made his way on foot between the close-grown trees, getting in front of a fleeing boar.  Before the boar even realized the bard was there he was stabbing out with his own rapier, unknowingly getting "first blood" in this sport of noblemen.  The boar squealed in pain and surprise, as Thurloe rode Horse up behind White, who was pacing nervously now that his master had left the saddle.  The boar lowered his head and charged Xandro, catching the bard with a set of wicked tusks jutting up from its slavering jaws.  This, too, was "first blood" - the first wound the boars had inflicted upon their hunters.

Fortunately for the noblemen, two of the wild boars had stuck to the forest paths, as they preferred to remain mounted as long as possible and strike from the relative safety of the saddle.  But the paths were twisty and narrow, which worked to the boars' advantage over the larger horses in pursuit.  Alewyth still wisely followed, content to let them strike first (while she'd be nearby if any of them needed healing).

Wakuren sped past White and continued down the path, missing the three lead boars who sped past in front of him but catching the fourth by surprise as he dashed out at it from a side path.  His lowered longspear stabbed into the wild boar, but the creature's thick pelt prevented the tip from doing much more than scratching a long, shallow gash along its right side.  It bleated aloud, but the half-orc detected more anger than pain in its outcry.  Zander came up behind Wakuren but there wasn't room for his horse to get past the half-orc's; the cooshee, however, simply bounded between the trees and cut off the three lead boars, who had made it into a wider clearing.  Barking furiously, the elven dog managed to turn the three around, sending them back towards Wakuren and the approaching noblemen.

Wakuren had to hold on tight as his horse suddenly reared onto its hind legs, the boar before it having gashed it in the side with its wicked tusks.  The horse kicked out feebly with its front hooves before landing again on all fours; Wakuren stabbed the point of his spear into the boar, catching it just above the shoulder.  Then another spear struck the boar; Thurloe had approached beside Wakuren and was helping to bring down the beast Wakuren had been fighting.

Many of the other boars scattered wildly, with a few of them getting struck by the points of one or more of the noblemen's spears as they sought safety by running between the close-growing trees.  The noblemen did their best to keep up the attacks, but they were hampered by the necessity to steer their mounts around the clumps of trees, sticking to the forest paths.  Xandro retreated back to the relative safety of White's saddle, while Alewyth, having dismounted from her own borrowed horse, had followed behind the boar and now found herself in a position to stab it from behind with the point of her longspear.  It squealed in pain, and the beast's cries were echoed by the barks of the dogs as they raced down the path behind the dwarven priestess.  The wounded boar spun about and faced Alewyth, then charged forward at her, but she managed to step to the side and get in a quick stab with her rapier.

Back over on one of the paths, Wakuren and Thurloe stabbed their spears into the boar they were fighting, while it tried to fight back, catching the side of Wakuren's horse.  But now Zander arrived on the scene, stabbing his own longspear at the wounded beast.  His cooshee snapped at one of the three boars he'd deflected back towards Wakuren and Thurloe, and this turned out to be a troublesome event for Wakuren's mount because all three spread out and made a concentrated attack upon the wounded horse, attacking it from three different directions.  By this time the other wild boars had scattered; only the four surrounding Wakuren and the one facing Alewyth were still in the fight.  But seeing his friend in desperate combat with the cornered boar, Xandro leaped back off of his horse and ran back through the trees they way he'd come, stabbing his spear into the boar now attacking Alewyth.  Blood flowed freely down both sides of its flank; surely it couldn't hold out for too much longer!  And at that the bard was absolutely correct, for Alewyth slew the beast with a rapier-strike to the creature's throat, it having come too close to her for her to be able to wield her longspear effectively.

Thurloe finally killed Wakuren's original porcine foe and spun about to take on one of the three who had returned to the fight.  The noblemen, having given up on chasing the ones that had successfully fled through the trees, focused their attention - and the points of their longspears - upon the closest one attacking Wakuren's horse in an effort to get to the half-orc riding it.  The dogs ran past, apparently having been trained not to get in the way of the spears and blades once a boar had been cornered, and instead went running through the close-packed trees to follow the trails of those which had escaped.

Zander and Wakuren focused their attacks upon a single boar, while the cooshee went after the same one from behind.  But then, in an unvoiced but smoothly-accomplished maneuver, all three boars swapped targets as one, focusing their tusks on the elven dog.  The cooshee was unable to avoid three separate sets of tusks coming at him from three different directions, and blood spilled from his sides as he almost staggered to the ground.  But rather than pressing on with their attack, the boars all turned about as one and sped off through the trees, where the horses couldn't follow - and neither, in his present state, could the elven hound.

Xandro and Alewyth came riding up to the rest of the group.  "We got one!" Xandro called out.

"That makes two, then!" replied Wakuren, looking down at the slain beast on the ground before him as he leaned over and cast a healing spell upon his wounded mount.  Alewyth did likewise to the cooshee, and then, at the noblemen's urging, they pointed their mounts in the direction of the barking dogs as they pursued their elusive prey.  "This way!" called Lord Mantriculos, seemingly somewhat put out that these first-timers had bagged two boars on their first hunt while neither of the noblemen - boar-hunting veterans each - had yet to bring down a single beast.

"Are we still on your own lands?" Thurloe asked Lord Brokerville.

"No," admitted the aristocrat, "but we started this hunt on our lands, and we're going to get ourselves a boar!"  Thurloe shrugged, assuming if the noblemen were okay with the legality of the hunt, he wasn't going to worry overly much about it.

The remaining boars led the hunters on a merry chase, during which time the heroes purposefully fell back, allowing the three noblemen to take the lead so they'd get the first shots at the fleeing hogs.  The boars led them into a clearing by a short cliff, leaping between two large trees and veering off to the left of a log cabin built near to the cliffside.  There was a rather large cave opening off to the right of the cabin, possibly where the boars were heading.

Lord Tandervale was the first to race his horse between the trees - and thus was the one who triggered the trap.  His horse tripped over a taut vine near to the ground, sending itself falling to the ground and its rider taking a face-plant some distance ahead.  But the vine released a log that had been held up by the branches of the rightmost tree, and as it fell - each end supported by strong ropes tied to a thick, high branch - the log slammed into Lord Brokerville, his horse, and Lord Mantriculos and his own mount, spilling all four to the forest clearing in a tangle of limbs and a series of startled cries.  The log had been spiked, as well, with sharpened branches sticking out of it at all angles; the thing nearly hit Lord Mantriculos a second time as gravity sent it swinging back the way it had come.

Alewyth and Wakuren leaped down from their horses, applying healing spells to Lords Brokerville and Mantriculos.  Zander, not liking the apparent booby trap that the wily boars had somehow known to lead their pursuers into, called for his cooshee.  When the elven dog leaped up at his master, Zander deactivated him and put the jade statuette back into his pocket.  Then he sent Eddy forward, skirting the remains of a campfire in front of the cabin as he eyed the area warily.  There was a pen of some sort off to the right, with a fence and gate made of felled tree trunks.  No doubt about it - somebody lived here, and possibly cared for these wild boars if they felt safe enough to come this close to someone's dwelling.

The boars - there were six of them in all - had by this time made it behind the cabin and were out of sight.  Xandro, sensing combat of a very different nature than that of hunting down boars, pulled the _Dardolian lute_ from his back and started the words to his song of inspirational courage.  After all, if there was somebody inside the cabin allied with the boars, there was a good chance there might be combat any moment now - and with the ruckus that had already been raised by the triggering of the log trap and the squealing of the boars, whoever was inside the cabin had to already be aware of their presence.

Thurloe opted not to wait to find out.  Riding Horse up to the cabin, he leaped off and landed immediately before the front door.  However, there was another trap in place there: a shallow pit had been dug, merely a foot or so deep and covered with a framework of intertwined sticks just sturdy enough to hold the covering of leaves sprinkled onto it to give it the appearance of solid ground.  Thurloe's weight broke right through the flimsy barrier and his foot hit the trigger of an open bear trap that had been placed beneath the false floor.  Its metal teeth slammed shut around Thurloe's right foot, imprisoning him where he stood - and in considerable pain.

The noblemen, furious at this turn of events, regained their footing and climbed back into their saddles as their horses stood back up.  Alewyth, having heard Thurloe's cry of pain, ran past the noblemen to see to her friend.  She stepped down into the shallow pit and tried prying the metal jaws open, but giving it all her strength yielded no positive results.  "It's okay--I got this," Thurloe hissed in pain, trying his hardest not to cry in front of the dwarf.

Wakuren, also on foot, ran around to the left of the cabin in pursuit of the fleeing boars.  He cast wide his senses, seeking out the telltale stench of evil, but found no such emanations in the auras ahead.  Zander flanked around the other way, by the east of the cabin, and saw three of the wild boars flee into the cave opening along the cliff side.  He didn't see the other three, but he'd been pretty sure six boars had run behind the cabin, leaving three unaccounted for.

Those three made a good accounting for themselves, all right: one doubled back, altering its shape as he moved back around the side of the cabin to face Wakuren.  By the time he met back up with the surprised half-orc, he stood upon his hooved back feet, while from the waist up he wore the broad chest and sagging belly of a rather fat man.  Powerful arms ended in human hands, but his head was still that of a wild boar.  One hand held a rock he'd picked up from behind the cabin, and he clocked Wakuren good in the side of the head with it, sending the cleric-paladin reeling off to the side.  "What in the Hells--?" exclaimed one of the noblemen, getting his first look at a wereboar in hybrid form.  The other two wereboars, opting to remain in their animal forms for now, sped around the east side of the cabin, charging at Zander upon his horse.

And then the cabin door opened, to reveal yet another wereboar in its hybrid form, this one wielding a battleaxe in its hands.  With a grunt of effort, it swung its weapon down at Thurloe, trapped in place by the bear trap.  But the spellsword mentally activated his _anklet of translocation_ and disappeared from the wereboar ranger's view, reappearing inside the cabin just behind him, such that their backs were facing each other.  Thurloe spun around first, hobbling on his wounded foot, pulling his bastard sword from the sheath on his back.

Alewyth, still standing in the shallow pit, took a step away from the axe-wielding wereboar ranger and cast a _bless_ spell on the group.  Wakuren also took a step back, but that was just so he could put his longspear to good use against the wereboar before him, stabbing its point into the upright beast's chest.  He could feel the adrenaline in his system, feel some primal urge to forget about casting spells and deal with his foes in a more savage fashion.

Zander cast a _scorching ray_ at the wereboar standing in the cabin doorway, hoping to take its focus away from Alewyth, who was the closest potential target.  Unfortunately, the other two wereboars attacked his horse by then and the rays went astray, hitting the wooden side of the log cabin and setting it ablaze.  But then one wereboar was upon him, goring his horse with its tusks while the other attacked Alewyth in a similar fashion, opening a gash along her leg.  She hobbled back, grabbing a vial of _silversheen_ from her belt, recognizing these foes now as lycanthropes - men who could turn into an animal form or that of an upright-walking hybrid.  And the wereboar fighting Wakuren swung at the half-orc again with his blood-streaked rock.  Wakuren dodged the awkward blow and pushed deeper with his longspear, then finished his foe off with a swipe of his rapier.  He fell to the floor of the forest clearing, quite obviously dead, and Wakuren let the borrowed longspear go, pulling the _shield of Cal_ off his back and back to its accustomed place on his left arm.  After all, this was apparently no longer a mere wild boar hunt and the noblemen's rules no longer applied.

The ranger, picking up on some last-second sense of danger, ducked and spun as Thurloe's sword came crashing down at where he'd been standing.  He grinned at facing this human interloper again, and swung his axe at Thurloe, catching him in the side.  Xandro kept playing his lute, doing what he could to aid all four of his friends (and the three noblemen, not that they seemed particularly interested in fighting off boars that could turn into beast-men) while remaining in relative safety himself.

Ignoring the pain in his foot and now also in his side, Thurloe mentally activated his _torc of the titans_ and empowered the next swing of his bastard sword, catching the wereboar in the side of his torso, covered in a thick pelt of wiry fur and bristles.  Zander cast a _haste_ spell on the group, and the spellsword felt vitality course through his body, speeding up his reflexes.  He also noted the flames had spread along the cabin wall; very soon they'd be reaching the front door, which looked to be the only way out of the cabin (unless he felt like crawling up the stone chimney).

The animal-form werebeasts continued their attacks upon Alewyth and Zander, but Zander kept his leg out of the way and the boar's ragged tusks sank into the flesh and muscle of the horse beneath the elven sorcerer (Zander once again was grateful he'd left Eddy back at the Tandervale estate), and Alewyth had applied a dose of _silversheen_ upon _Sjondra_ and immediately saw the results of the concoction, for she clocked the werebeast a good one with her trusty warhammer that sent him falling upon his side and struggling to get back up.

The wereboar ranger swung his battleaxe at Thurloe again, but Zander's _haste_ spell helped the spellsword avoid the blow, even with a sore leg that hurt when he put his full weight upon it.  Another charge from his torc sent _Spellslicer_ slicing a deep gash across the ranger's chest.  And speaking of chests, Thurloe couldn't help but notice there was a wooden chest at the foot of a cot to his right, in an area that doubtlessly served as the ranger's bedroom, partially hidden by a curtain.  Thurloe vowed to give that chest a good look after he'd dealt with the werebeast doing his best to kill him.

But now Xandro entered the fray, feeling guilty just playing his lute when everyone around him was engaged in combat.  He pulled his _frost short sword_ from its scabbard and flanked behind the boar attacking Zander, the blade sliding deep into the boar's flesh.  And Wakuren, having slain his initial foe, ran into the burning cabin to help Thurloe fight off the wereboar ranger.  The _shield of Cal_ came slicing in horizontally to smash into the werebeast's spine, causing the brute to snort in pain and surprise.

Zander cast a _magic missile_ spell at the wereboar attacking him, and then Xandro finished it off with another deep stab of his blade.  Alewyth fought off her own beast, taking another gash from its wicked tusks before finally crushing its skull with her dwarven warhammer, currently coated in _silversheen_.  The ranger, with blood now flowing freely out of its mouth and nostrils, gave a final swing at Thurloe before the spellsword nearly severed his head with a lateral strike from _Spellslicer_.  Wakuren, seeing the ranger fall dead to the cabin floor before him, raced back outside the open doorway; Thurloe followed, but not before grabbing up the wooden chest he'd seen.  He had to leap through a sheet of flames as the fire engulfing the cabin reached the doorway, but you never knew what you might find inside a treasure chest, and if the ranger had anything of value inside the otherwise practically bare cabin, Thurloe was willing to bet it was stored in the chest.  He made it outside to find Wakuren rubbing _silversheen_ upon the _shield of Cal_, then looking around to see the other wereboars had already been slain.

However, the half-orc's assumption proved to be somewhat premature.  Zander turned his head towards the cave opening in the cliff side, his sharp elven hearing having picked up the sounds of something big clomping up the natural stone steps that led down into the caverns below.  The others soon heard the sounds for themselves and turned to see what would exit the cave.  Xandro resumed playing his song of inspirational courage on the _Dardolian lute_, getting the feeling they'd soon have need of the magical assistance it provided, for it seemed like combat might not yet be over after all.

Poking her massive head out of the shadows of the cave entrance, an enormous figure stepped forth into the sunlight.  It was a hill giantess, with rolls of fat hanging over the brief garment she wore around her hips, a pair of pendulous breasts hanging halfway down her torso.  But her head, although it sported the scraggly, matted hair common among her people, was that of an enormous warthog or boar, with tusks as long as Xandro's short sword growing up from her snout.  She carried a greatclub in one meaty fist as she stepped forward, her beady eyes squinting at the burning cabin, then at the slain wereboars lying on the ground, and then at the assembled heroes.  Finally taking in the entire scene, she bellowed forth a cry of anger and rage and started making her way toward the heroes.

Alewyth wasted no time in running back to her borrowed horse and climbing back up into the saddle; she wanted to have the mount's speed at her service should fleeing become necessary.  Wakuren cast a _divine favor_ spell upon himself, boosting his combat capabilities to face this new threat.  Zander cast a _detect magic_ spell, determining the hill giant dire wereboar had no magic about her (but also that there was magic emanating from the chest Thurloe had rescued from the burning cabin).

Thurloe was the first one to initiate combat against the giantess.  Casting a _ray of enfeeblement_ at the hybrid wereboar giantess, the beam struck true and he saw her flinch as some of her impressive strength was drained from her muscles.  It even seemed as if the spell's effects caused her to shift the weight of the greatclub in her hands, as if it seemed suddenly heavier to her - that could only be a good sign!

The giantess brought her greatclub up over her head and sent it crashing down at Wakuren, but the half-orc managed to dodge out of the way in time and it just slammed a divot out of the ground at his feet.  Alewyth cast a spell from her horse's saddle, and suddenly a celestial bison appeared behind the dire wereboar.  It lowered its head and charged, goring a horn into the massive woman's back, causing her to grunt in pain and spin about to face this sudden attacker.  But then Wakuren managed to tamp down the fires of rage and bloodlust threatening to overcome his senses and take a more practical approach.  Despite having having coated his shield with _silversheen_, despite having cast a _divine favor_ spell upon himself to aid him in physical combat, he cast a _calm emotions_ spell at the dire wereboar.  Then, seeing the spell seem to take an effect upon her, he called out, "Let's all stop attacking each other!  We're going to leave you alone, okay?  Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"...Some," agreed the giantess in a guttural voice.

"We didn't mean to attack the other wereboars - we thought they were just wild hogs," Wakuren explained.  "And then we fought back when the wereboars attacked us.  But now that we know you're peaceful, we're going to leave you in peace.  We're going, see?"  And Wakuren demonstrated his intentions by backing over to his horse and climbing back up onto the saddle.  Thurloe did likewise, although his "peaceful" intentions were somewhat muddied by the fact that he took with him the wereboar ranger's chest, which he had stolen from the ranger as soon as he'd been slain, and that the boar-man's home was now completely engulfed by flames.  In a couple of hours, there's be nothing left of the cabin but the stone chimney.

"We're going," Thurloe reiterated, backing Horse away from the confused giantess.

"Yes.  You go," the dire wereboar replied.  Then she watched the entire group turn their horses and leave between the trees, riding on either side of the dangling log with the embedded spikes the ranger had set as a trap.

"Are we okay with this?" Alewyth worried.  "She's most likely the one who turned the others into wereboars.  If we leave her alone, she might do the same again to others."

"Not our problem," argued Thurloe.  "And Wakuren: is she evil?"

"No."

"There, see: not evil.  I say we let her live in peace.  And if the noblemen want to do something about her, they're more than welcome to hire local heroes to go deal with her at a later date."  He didn't want to admit that he was worried about their ability to handle her on their own under the present set of circumstances, with many of their spells already cast, Wakuren without his normal plate mail armor, and most of the heroes already wounded from the fights with the _regular_ wereboars.  If the noblemen had anything to say on the subject they kept it to themselves; they practically sulked the whole way back to the Tandervale estate at their poor showing in front of these commoner heroes.

But their hearts were buoyed at the heroes' insistence they didn't want either of the two normal boars they'd slain; after all, that meant once the heroes had gone their way there'd be nobody to gainsay their own claims that it had been the three of them who had brought down the boars.  They gave instructions to the dog handlers to grab a wagon and fetch the slain boars, as the heroes returned the borrowed weapons and mounts and gathered Scarlie and their own mounts and wagon for the trek to the next dream victim.

Thurloe, for his part, was momentarily buoyed by the fact the wereboar ranger's chest contained magic.  But when said magic turned out to be nothing more than a half dozen _human bane arrows_ in among a bunch of clothes, he turned them over to Alewyth so she could destroy them with _Sjondra_.

 - - -

The PCs all advanced to 9th level at the end of this session.  And _Sjondra_ - "The Sunderer" - made it to a _+3 dwarven warhammer_ after having absorbed the magical power of the six arrows.  In addition, I advanced up their "signature items" as well, as the Queen of Dreams has been steadily sending additional power to them via the dreamstones attached to each item, so they each gained a new power or ability.  Hopefully we'll get to see some of these new abilities in play soon.

I used a couple of Paizo's Flip-Mats for the forest paths where the PCs first fought the boars and then the clearing with the ranger's cabin and the cave to the hill giant's lair.  For the wild boars, I used five pigs from a farmland set of minis I had purchased some years ago, and then printed off three "boar" tokens to fill out their ranks.  (And I didn't tell the players this at first, but it allowed me to determine at a glance which of hte boars were just boars and which were wereboars in animal form.)  For the hill giant, I also made a little "box" to plop over the head of a hill giant miniature, with the front, side, and top views of a boar's head visible.  It made a fairly effective hill giant dire wereboar that way.  I also made a three-dimensional model of the cabin out of carboard, built such that I could assemble it for play and then disassemble it to lay flat for storage once I was done.

 - - -

T-shirt worn: Since I don't have anything that relates to wild boars, I wore my white "Walking Dead" T-shirt to represent Charland Tandervale's dancing skeleton.  ("Ya ta ta ta TAA ta!")


----------



## Richards (Dec 25, 2022)

*ADVENTURE 41: FOX ON THE RUN*

PC Roster:
Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 9​Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 3/spellsword 3​Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 5/paladin 4​Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 6/rogue 3​Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 9​
NPC Roster:
Lady Arabella Vulpina, human aristocrat 2/rogue 9​
Game Session Date: 18 December 2022

 - - -

The five dreamwalkers were standing in the Corridor of Dreams with their instructor Mogo when another moogle - one they'd never seen before - fluttered up.  This one was female and carried a leather satchel slung over one shoulder.  "I have a message for you, kupo!" she said.

Alewyth took the sealed piece of parchment proffered by the little moogle, broke open the seal, and unfolded it.  Then she read the message aloud to the others.  It read:



> Dreamwalkers,
> 
> I need your help – I'm being hunted by an assassin devil out for my blood.  It's all I can do to keep one step ahead of her.  I need to lead her to you so you can help me kill her.
> 
> ...




"The Fox is a dreamwalker, like us?" blurted out Xandro.

"She is, kupo!" affirmed *Lasciva*, who was hanging around to learn of the dreamwalkers' location on the Mortal Plane.

"The Fox is Lady Vulpina, isn't she?" asked Wakuren.  "After all, Lady Vulpina helped us out with Teresa Theringold, not 'The Fox.'"

"If she wanted you to know her real name, she would have signed the letter with her real name, kupo!" replied Lasciva.  "But she needs your help, kupo!"

Alewyth turned to the moogle, hovering on her tiny bat wings to keep her head at eye level with the dreamwalkers, and said, "We're on our way to a little village called Ebliston, on the edge of Lake Eblis.  We're camped about two hours away, approaching from the west."

"Thanks, kupo!" replied Lasciva.  "As soon as the Fox falls asleep and enters the Dreamlands, I'll let her know where you'll be waiting for her, kupo!  You can expect her to catch up with you at Ebliston as soon as she can, kupo!"  And with that, the little moogle spun about and flew back the way she had come.

Mogo, slightly irritated at the interruption, got the dreamwalkers back onto the task at hand.  "Tonight, we're going to try something different, kupo!" he said.  "You've tried altering individual dreamscapes with varied success, but tonight we're going to start trying to change yourselves and how you appear to others in dreams, kupo!"  He explained how to perform the maneuver, which ended up being very much like the _disguise self_ spell, and then they spent their dreamtime entering a selection of individual dreams and interacting with the dreamers.  Inside the dreams, they took turns making themselves look differently than they normally did, sometimes trying to become duplicates of the dreamer.

But the next morning, when they awoke, they hurried to get back on the road, for they had no idea how long it would take the Fox to make it to Ebliston and they wanted to get there in plenty of time to be there for her.  The land on the sides of the road started to become swampy, and before too long the road was the only bit of dry land rising up from a full-fledged marsh.  The group fell into single file on the narrow strip of land, with Thurloe on Horse in the lead, followed by the mule-wagon ridden by the two half-orcs, then Zander on Eddy, Xandro on White, and Alewyth riding her dire goat Pyrite bringing up the rear.  Off to the right, the waters of Lake Eblis came into view.  Xandro had his _Dardolian lute_ out, playing a merry tune.  Thurloe and Zander had _mage armor_ spells in effect - for the duration of the spell was long enough they habitually cast it upon themselves each morning - and Alewyth likewise had cast a _magic vestment_ spell on herself.  They weren't expecting any particular danger, but it never hurt to be prepared.

The wisdom of their automatic preparations became clear when, from the lake side of the road, several figures stepped forward from between the overhanging willow trees growing in the shallow waters by the shore.  These looked very much like larger-than-normal herons, each taller than a man, with white feathers save for the ends of each wing, all down the chest and long neck, and a crest at the top of the head, all of which were a darker gray shading to black, with a tuft of red feathers at the crown.  Four such creatures stepped forth, as well as a fifth such creature composed entirely of bone.  From the skeletal eblis erupted a _scare_ spell aimed at the various riding mounts; the leader hoped to get the mules in a panic, so they'd crash the wagon between a pair of large boulders in the road just ahead, where most carts and wagons had to go very slowly to ensure they could fit between the rocks.  But the skeletal eblis hadn't counted on the reassuring presence of Wakuren, whose paladin training provided a palpable aura of courage that helped buoy the resolve of his nearby friends and allies.  As a result, the _scare_ tactic did nothing but make the riding mounts slightly nervous - as well as announcing the eblis's approach and identify themselves as attempted ambushers.

Wakuren cast an _air walk_ spell upon himself and stepped off the side of the wagon into the air to the side of the road and started walking above the surface of the lake, toward the approaching eblises.  A casual examination of their auras - for once not prompted by Thurloe - revealed a definite evil bent among the avian foes.  "They're evil!" he called back to his friends, and that was all Zander needed to hear; he cast a _fireball_ straight into the center of the eblis formation, slaying three of the five outright, leaving only the skeletal leader and one of its nestmates still standing.  Xandro spun his magical lute around and aimed it at the skeletal eblis, blasting him with a _sonic burst_.  The blast hit the skeleton and he jolted when hit, invisible feathers flying from his body and becoming visible as he froze up, stunned.  That told the bard several things: despite its skeletal appearance, the eblis leader was quite alive, and his fearsome appearance was likely the work of some illusion magic.

Thurloe spun around in the saddle and grabbed up his shortbow.  Fitting an arrow into place, he sent it flying at the eblis that _didn't_ look like an animated skeleton - the leader's undead status was still somewhat up in the air as far as Thurloe was concerned, so he was going to aim at a definitely living target that he knew would be affected by his arrow.  The arrow struck true, and the squawk of pain erupting from the eblis's throat was a good indicator that he'd dealt it some damage.

As Alewyth cast a _bless_ spell on the group, the wounded eblis waded up and attacked Wakuren with its sharp beak.  The half-orc deflected the incoming attack with his shield, then brought it around and slammed it into the bird's head, shattering its skull.  Zander shot a _magic missile_ spell at the skeletal leader, and he too fell over into the lake water, quite dead.  Then the group, which had universally halted their train while fighting off the eponymous eblises which gave the lake (and the town) its name, moved on, Scarlie taking extra care to maneuver the wagon between the two boulders protruding onto the narrow road before continuing on to Ebliston.

Arriving in town less than half an hour later, it was apparent that fishing on the lake was how many of the townsfolk made their living.  Asking around, they were able to find the name and location of the dream victim for whom they'd come to aid; it was a boy named *Frankie Tusswallop*, whose parents owned a tobacco shop.  Heading straight for the shop (for they'd received no word from the moogles through their dreamstones that Lady Arabella Vulpina had yet received their message), they were met by the boy's parents, *Portney* and *Edna Tusswallop*.  Portney informed them little Frankie had been asleep now for three and a half weeks, and upon hearing the dreamwalkers believed they should be able to awaken his son, he hung a "CLOSED" sign on the window of his shop, locked the front door, and led the group upstairs.

Alewyth, as usual, explained to the family what they would be doing as the guys pulled Frankie's bed into the middle of the room and the priestess affixed a leather headband around the boy's head, into which she placed a dreamstone.  "What shall we do?" asked Portney.

"Just make sure we're not disturbed," answered Thurloe, tying his own headband into place.

Zander activated his _jade cooshee_ and set the elven dog onto guard duty as well.  "My cooshee will keep you company," the elven sorcerer advised the Tusswallops.  Then he joined the others in sitting around Frankie's bed in the lotus position and willing himself to sleep.

"Hey, kupo," Mogo greeted them in the Corridor of Dreams.  "Here's the dream, kupo."  The little moogle opened the door to Frankie Tusswallop's dream and the five dreamwalkers stepped inside.

This time, they didn't actually enter the dreamscape scene as if walking onto a stage; they passed through the doorway and were instantly already immersed into the dream.  They were sitting on a sofa, a love seat, and a stuffed chair, and Alewyth found herself sitting beside a sleepy-looking Frankie.  "I'm supposed to go to bed," he told her, apparently not at all concerned that there were five strangers in the room with him.  "But I can't get to my room, because the floor is lava."

Looking down at the floor of the room, the heroes could see that it was indeed made of bubbling lava.  But as this was a dream, and the dream of a six-year-old boy whose knowledge of how lava worked was rudimentary at best, the floor looked to be covered in a bubbling tomato sauce - had it been actual lava, the heat would likely have already killed them at this distance, to say nothing of burning up the furniture.

"Where's your room, honey?" asked Alewyth.

"Down the hall."

"Well, don't you worry - we'll get you to your bedroom and tuck you into bed."

"Okay."

Zander took the blanket off the back of the sofa and cautiously draped it onto the floor.  As expected, it landed and spread out exactly like it would on an ordinary floor made of wood, instead of bursting into flames or sinking into the liquid magma.  Hesitantly, he put his weight upon it and found he was perfectly fine.  Still hanging onto the corners of the blanket, he walked up to the edge of the blanket where it hit the floor and started walking.  "This should work out just fine," he told the others.  "Here, hop on board."

Xandro, being the closest to Zander, stepped onto the blanket and the two shuffled down the hallway, looking for Frankie's bedroom.  It was at the end of the hallway, to the right.  Just to be sure there ws nothing untoward, they walked the blanket all the way to the bedroom, peeked inside and saw no further dangers, and then turned around and walked back to the room in which they had started.

By then, Thurloe had grabbed up two stuffed pillows and was cautiously making his way towards the hallway, stepping on one, setting the other further down the way he was going, crossing over to that pillow, and then picking up the pillow in the rear and repeating the process.  Wakuren and Alewyth had each found another blanket and were following the style of movement Zander had demonstrated.

"Would you like to hop on my back and I'll carry you piggyback to your room?" Alewyth offered.

"Okay," agreed Frankie.

Together, the group made their way down the hallway and into Frankie's bedroom, where Alewyth lowered the boy onto his bed and then, still standing on the blanket she'd used as a defense against the "lava floor," tucked the covers up to Frankie's chin.  "You don't look a lot like my mom," Frankie confided, "but you look a lot more like her than the others do."  Then, giving her a smile, he rolled over and faced the wall.  The walls of the dreamscape immediately started melting, which was the indicator that the dream was ending and Frankie was waking up.  Each of the five dreamwalkers took that as their cue to wake themselves up from the Dreamlands as well.

The Tusswallops were overjoyed when Frankie sat up in his bed and stretched.  "Oh, thank you!" gushed Edna.  "Portney, go fetch them a reward for waking up Frankie!"  The tobacconist went back downstairs and returned with a handful of cigars, which he doled out, one to each of the dreamwalkers.  "Portney!" chided Edna upon seeing his proffered reward.  "You go right back down those stairs and fetch some money from the safe!"

"A reward is not necessary," interjected Alewyth.  "Waking others trapped in their dreams is more or less our job."  Thurloe cast her an immediate "Are you crazy?" look, but Zander supported the dwarven priestess by saying, "Actually, another of these cigars would be reward enough."  Portney, glad to get out of having to fork over any of the money in their safe, hastily complied.  Thurloe snorted in disgust - but took the second proffered cigar.

"Hey, kupo!" came a familiar voice, seemingly from several places at once: Thurloe's bastard sword, Aleyth's hammer, Xandro's lute, and Wakuren's shield.  It was Mogo's voice, being broadcast through the dreamstones attached to their signature items (and would have come from the eyes attached to the statue form of the _jade cooshee_ if the elven dog wasn't currently in full physical canine form at the moment).  "Lasciva says the Fox has received your message and will head over to Ebliston immediately, kupo!  She says to see if there are any churches or temples there with _hallowed_ grounds, kupo!"

Wakuren turned to the Tusswallops, a query in his expression - for the couple had heard Mogo's voice as well.

"We've just the one temple, dedicated to Clem, Demigod of Fishing," replied Portney.  He gave them directions to the Temple of Clem, which Wakuren repeated for Mogo's benefit.  "I'll let Lasciva know, kupo!" the moogle promised before signing off.

The group departed the tobacco shop and headed immediately to the Temple of Clem, a building on the shore of Lake Eblis with a three-story lighthouse rising up at the back.  There they found the head cleric, *Milo Lagos*, in attendance.  There were also three women praying in the chapel for the safe return of their husbands, each of them out on a fishing expedition on the lake.  Alewyth explained the situation and Milo convinced the three women to return to their homes and then, at the heroes' urging, went to the safety of his own rooms in the temple, where the _hallow_ effect that permeated the temple would hopefully keep him safe from the assassin devil on the way.  With any luck, the devil wouldn't be able to even enter the temple and Lady Vulpina would be able to escape the fiend's constant attacks.

Once the cleric had retired to his rooms and the others were opening the double doors at the front of the building, Thurloe turned to Wakuren and asked, "So?  Is that Milo guy evil?"  He was a firm believer that as Wakuren had the standard paladin's ability to sense evil in others, he should constantly be "checking out" the auras of everyone he met.  Wakuren, on the other hand, was a firm believer in giving everyone the benefit of the doubt until they proved to be untrustworthy.  It was an ongoing argument between the two, and despite Wakuren's insistence he wasn't going to suspect everyone they met was evil, Thurloe expected him to do just that.  Frankly, the half-orc was getting tired of the questioning from the suspicious spellsword.

So he pulled back his gauntleted fist and popped Thurloe an unexpected blow to the face.  "Hard to tell," he told the surprised swordsman, who was feeling the stream of blood dripping down from his nose.  "I'm not evil, but I just punched you in the face."  Then he turned his back on the spellsword and started making preparations for the Fox's imminent arrival.  Thurloe merely narrowed his eyes and swore to himself this affront would be paid back, in time.

"I'm going up to the top of that roof," Zander said, pointing to a building in front of the Temple of Clem.  It faced the main street of the village, through which the Fox would likely be speeding on horseback.  "It'll give me a good vantage point from which to cast spells at the assassin devil."  He headed off to the building to find the best way to scramble up to the rooftop.

"I'll be right here," Alewyth replied, standing to one side of the opened doors.  The doorway was wide enough Lady Vulpina would be able to ride the horse right into the temple, should she need to.  Xandro offered that he'd be over on the other side of the double doors, ready to attack.  Thurloe stood in the middle of the doorway, his bastard sword out and ready.  Wakuren was about to activate his _ring of invisibility_ when he thought better of it.  "You might want to borrow this," he suggested, dropping the ring into Xandro's hand.  "It might give you an edge against the devil."

"It certainly will!" Xandro agreed, placing the ring on his finger and activating it.  Once no longer visible, he stepped further out into the street and off to one side.  At least his first attack should take the devil by surprise!

In preparation for an imminent battle, Wakuren cast _align weapon_ spells upon _Sjondra_, _Spellslicer_, and his own _shield of Cal_; by temporarily granting them holy properties, he knew the three weapons would be able to bypass some of the magical protections inherent in most devils.  Alewyth cast a _magic circle against evil_ spell upon herself and a _prayer_ spell on the group, while Xandro cast a _heroism_ spell upon Wakuren.  Wakuren buffed himself up even further by casting the spells _shield of faith_, _entropic shield_, and _divine power_ on himself and his combat gear.  And then they waited.

"Lady Vulpina ever say how she was getting all the way here from Port Duralia?" Alewyth asked.

"_Teleporting_, I'd imagine," answered Wakuren.  "She probably knows about the shrines to Delphyne, and I think there was one in Centralvale.  That's not too long a ride from there, especially at top speed on a good horse."

Sure enough, it wasn't too long before the sounds of pounding hooves presaged the arrival of Lady Arabella Vulpina, wearing a set of combat leathers and urging her stolen horse to top speed.  She had a short sword in one hand and kept it busy trying to deflect the incoming attacks from the assassin devil that kept _teleporting_ to either side of her.  The many rents in her armor gave ample evidence that the assassin devil had made it past the noblewoman's defenses on several occasions.

From his perch on the nearby rooftop, Zander cast a _haste_ spell on the group (all except for Xandro, who had moved too far forward while invisible and thus was out of range of the spell at the time of its casting).  But he did manage to include his still-active cooshee, who was waiting outside the open doors to the temple beside Wakuren, and even Lady Vulpina as she brought her horse racing straight for the temple.  Then he looked up and saw something odd: a raven or a crow flying in the Fox's wake, paralleling her trail from behind, off to the right, and several dozen feet higher than its target.

As the horse reached the steps of the temple, Wakuren cast a _searing light_ spell at the assassin devil, who was on foot but keeping pace with a series of short-distance _dimension door_ spells.  The half-orc frowned when the spell failed to have any effect, the assassin devil's inherent resistance to spell energy causing it to fizzle to nothingness upon impact.  Then she was gone - for Wakuren had definitely noted a feminine build to the devil, despite the goatlike build of her legs - having _teleported_ directly at Lady Vulpina in an attempt to pull her from the horse's saddle before she could enter the temple.  She missed, and went crashing to the dirt of the street before the temple steps.

Xandro was upon her in an instant, popping back into visibility as he charged her, striking her deep in the torso with his _frost short sword_.  Thurloe likewise stepped up and brought his bastard sword crashing down upon her.  Zander, in the meantime, was more focused upon the raven, figuring its intense focus upon the Fox likely meant it was no simple bird, but either an imp in disguise of maybe even a wizard's familiar.  (He was wrong in that assumption, by the way, for the raven was in fact both an imp and a wizard's familiar.)  He blasted it with a _magic missile_ spell which caused it to wobble in the air erratically before it regained its balance, but it confirmed the sorcerer's suspicions, for he knew no common crow could take such a blast and still live.

The imp changed its shape as it altered course on a bee-line towards Zander.  By the time he reached his target, he was in full imp form, striking at the sorcerer with its scorpionlike tail.  So fast was the strike Zander - even with the benefit of the _haste_ spell - had no time to dodge the stab, but at least he managed to overcome the venom's effects.

Alewyth had a _dismissal_ spell ready and cast it at the assassin devil, hoping to banish her to whatever Hell she'd been called from.  Unfortunately for the dwarven priestess, her spell was no more effective than had been Wakuren's _searing light_ spell, simple bouncing off her spell resistance without harm.  But if nothing else, it kept the assassin devil's focus away from Lady Arabella long enough for the noblewoman to scramble off her stolen horse and run up the steps into the temple, while the horse took a right turn and ran off down a side street.

Wakuren lifted his shield up over his head and brought its edge crashing down upon the assassin devil - or dogai, as he now recalled they were called.  (The name had been bugging him.)  He struck her, but then just that fast she was gone again, _dimension dooring_ into the temple beside Lady Arabella (the _hallow_ effect likewise not being powerful enough to bar her entry), bringing her cold iron longsword stabbing at the leather-clad noblewoman.  With a cry of pain, Lady Arabella fell to the floor of the temple, bleeding from the deep gash in her side.

It was already getting crowded there by the doors to the temple, so Xandro brought out his _Dardolian lute_ and began the initial chords to his song of inspirational courage.  Thurloe thundered his way up the steps and brought _Spellslicer_ down at the dogai, intent upon being the one to bring her down.  _That_ would teach the upstart half-orc a thing or two about fighting evil!

Up on the rooftop, Zander backed away from the flying imp and cast a _summon swarm_ spell.  Instantly, a vast cloud of black shapes appeared all around the imp, as bats swooped in, biting at random.  The cooshee barked up at the imp from the street below, eager to help his master but unable to gain the rooftop on his own.  The imp, now sporting several bleeding wounds from the bats' bites, flew out of the swarm and went straight for Zander again, hitting with his pointed stinger but failing to fully envenom the elf.

Alewyth followed the action into the temple, running over to Lady Arabella and casting a _cure moderate wounds_ spell on her.  She then pulled her away from the assassin devil.  However, now that she outnumbered her attacker, Lady Arabella ran right back into the fray, stabbing at the fiend with her short sword.  And it was at that exact moment that an older human wizard _teleported_ into the temple entrance.  "Where's my egg, you thieving bitch?" he demanded of Lady Arabella.

*Columbrando* was not a man to be trifled with.  When he discovered the notorious thief known as the Fox in his arcane laboratory, stealing the metal-filigree egg he'd been painstakingly crafting over the past two months, he tried to stop her, but she grabbed it up and made her way out the nearest window before he could stop her.  He had put a lot of time and effort into crafting that egg; when it was finished, it was bound for destruction anyway, but when hurled to the ground it would open a permanent _planar gate_ to the Nine Hells, as he'd promised those fiends who had aided him in his mastery of the arcane arts.  And so, unable to give chase himself, he did the next best thing: he sent his imp familiar after her, then called up an assassin devil from the Lower Planes to track down the Fox.  She'd evaded the devil time and again, but with the aid of his familiar she'd always managed to get back onto her trail soon enough.

And now that she'd been cornered in some backwater fishing temple in a podunk little village on a lake, Columbrando was ready to _teleport_ in and take back what was his.

Wakuren slammed his _shield of Cal_ into the dogai again, and while it struck true, she managed to wriggle around it and make her way to her designated target, slashing at Lady Arabella with her cold iron longsword, the weapon with which she'd killed innumerable targets before in her eternal life of service to the devils above her in the hierarchy of Hell.  Staggering on her feet, Lady Arabella finally gave in.  "Okay, I'll let you guys handle her," she admitted, not too proud to know when she was outclassed.  She stumbled away into the aisle between the wooden pews in the chapel.

Xandro had seen Columbrando _teleport_ in, although the wizard had been focused upon Lady Arabella.  Determined not to let the old wizard see him, he reactivated Wakuren's ring and slipped back into invisibility, stopping his lute playing so he could silently make his way over behind Columbrando.  Thurloe cast a _ray of enfeeblement_ spell at the dogai, but once again her spell resistance rendered the attack harmless.  The spellsword snarled his disgust at fiends and their ability to shrug off spell effects.

Up on the rooftop, Zander backed up as far as he could and cast a _lightning bolt_ spell at the imp.  Unfortunately, it managed to weave beneath the bolt of electrical energy and made it through unscathed.  But then the bat swarm had caught back up to it, a great number of individual bats swooping in, biting, and moving on.  The imp's wings fluttered feebly and it started to lose altitude, nearly dropping onto the rooftop beside Zander.  The elf could see the imp wore some sort of magical amulet around its neck, although what its purpose might be was beyond him.  Still, the little fiend seemed to be on his last legs - that was good!  It flapped away, veering off in a different direction, away from Zander and away from his master down in the Temple of Clem, apparently trying to flee for its own horrid life.

Alewyth gripped _Sjondra_ tightly and brought the dwarven warhammer crashing into the assassin devil, swinging with all of her strength.  Behind her in the chapel, Lady Arabella staggered back towards the altar and pulled a healing potion from her belt, finally able to provide herself a bit of healing now that she had a moment without constant attacks by her own personal assassin.  But as Alewyth was blocking the entrance to the chapel, Columbrando decided to take her out first so he could get to the Fox.  He cast a _baleful polymorph_ spell at the dwarven priestess, and then snarled in irritation when Alewyth failed to transform into a rabbit.  _Curse all dwarves and their hearty constitutions!_ he swore to himself.

Wakuren moved past Alewyth into the chapel and touched Lady Arabella with his hand, releasing the spell he'd been casting at the same time.  Immediately, the noblewoman thief's body dissipated into a fine mist, as the _gaseous form_ spell took effect.  Now, as a cloud of vapors, she couldn't be harmed by the assassin devil or the old wizard, so if nothing else he'd bought her the length of time before the spell ran out.

Not wasting any time with fury, the assassin devil simply switched targets and attacked Wakuren with her sword, realizing she'd need to take out her target's protectors if she was going to be able to get her when the _gaseous form_ spell ran its course.  The half-orc deflected the attack with his shield, while Xandro popped back into visibility when he brought his _frost short sword_ stabbing into the old wizard's back.  However, he could feel a lot of resistance tempering his strike, and he realized the old codger must be under the effects of a _stoneskin_ spell.  That would certainly expand the length of time it would take to take him down!

Thurloe, tired of spells failing him, turned back to his bastard sword and brought it swinging in to the dogai.  Alewyth likewise attacked her with _Sjondra_.  Zander, in the meantime, lowered himself down from the rooftop by hanging by his fingertips and then letting go.  His cooshee, seeing the imp fly off, went running into the temple, where the action was taking place.  Zander hurried to follow at his own best speed, while behind him the imp bled out in midair and went crashing to the street below.  The bats went scattering to all corners, returning to their own abodes now that they were no longer needed.

Columbrando backed away from his attackers, giving himself enough room to cast a spell without interruption.  Since the dwarf had proven to have a healthy constitution, he decided to target the half-orc; casting a _flesh to stone_ spell at Wakuren, he cursed aloud (in the Fiendish tongue, no less) when he saw the half-orc fail to petrify to solid rock.  But then Xandro and the cooshee were attacking him, the former with his magic short sword and the latter with his claws and teeth.  Finally, Wakuren just leaped forward and grappled the old wizard, getting a good grip on the back of his bald head and slamming his face into the nearest wall.

The dogai stabbed at Alewyth with her sword, but the dwarf caught the blade with the business end of her warhammer and deflected the blade away from her.  Then Xandro spun in place and sent his own blade deep into the devil's side, while Thurloe delivered the killing blow with his bastard sword.  Just like that, the assassin devil crumpled to the floor, her life's blood spilling out onto the temple foyer.

Zander entered the temple and tried casting a _touch of idiocy_ spell at Columbrando, but the wizard's body was in motion - back and forth, as Wakuren slammed his face into the temple wall again and again - and his spell failed to connect.  Alewyth turned and brought _Sjondra_ to bear against the wizard's back, sure she heard at least a few ribs crack from the force of her blow.  In desperation, and unable to escape Wakuren's iron grip, he tried casting a _blindness/deafness_ spell at the half-orc, thinking the sudden loss of sight might make him loosen his grip, but once again his spell had no effect, for Wakuren's mind was now in a blood-red rage and he slammed the wizard's face into the wall over and over again - if the spell would have taken his sight, it's questionable whether he would have even noticed.  Eventually, his face now a smashed blob of pain, Comunbrando's spirit left his body and started the long journey to Hell, but Wakuren kept bashing the man's head into the wall until Thurloe finally had to pull him away (nearly resulting in another smash to the face himself, until the half-orc finally mastered his rage and calmed down).

Seeing the danger was over, Lady Arabella Vulpina dismissed the _gaseous form_ spell effect and returned to a more physical existence.  "Thank you - thank you all," she said, looking at each of her allies.  Alewyth went over to her immediately and cast additional healing spells until she was back to the peak of health - although her slashed combat leathers would need the attention of several _mending_ spells, by the look of it.  Lady Arabella filled them in on the reason behind the attack and pulled the silver-filigree egg from an extradimensional pouch she wore on her belt.  After Wakuren confirmed it was not yet magical - for Columbrando had been unable to finish his arcane project - Alewyth took it from her, laid it upon the floor, and destroyed it beyond recognition with _Sjondra_.

Lady Arabella was rummaging in her pouch again, pulling out bags of diamonds.  "A reward for your services," she said, handing them over.  "And yes, by now you're all well aware I'm the Fox.  I'd appreciate if you kept that bit of knowledge to yourselves."

"But you're more than that - you're a dreamwalker, like us!" gushed Xandro.  "Are you being trained in the Dreamlands, too?"

"To some extent," agreed Lady Arabella.  "But I'm a noblewoman of Port Duralia - I can't go traipsing around the continent waking up people stuck in their dreams, like you do."

"We all play our parts," offered up Zander, thinking about Garth Mankin, who had showed up to take the five dreamstones they'd had carved per the instructions of the Queen of Dreams and deliver them to where they were needed.

"And we've something for you in return," said Alewyth, reaching into her pouch for one of the spare dreamstones they carried - and left on the foreheads of the dreamers they were unable to awaken.  It had happened three times thus far: a dwarven miner in Deepshaft, a human bard in Baron's Haven, and a human paladin in Devlinshire.  She handed the dreamstone to Lady Arabella.  "If you bring this to a gemcutter named Iriadorrista in the city of Baron's Haven, she can attach it to the hilt of your sword."

"To what end?" Lady Arabella asked.

In response, Alewyth hefted the business end of her dwarven warhammer to her head, bringing one of the two dreamstones she had had attached to either side of the stone hammer-head, near the weapon's shaft.  "Can you hear me?" she called out.

"Loud and clear, kupo!" came the response from the Dreamlands.

The noblewoman's eyebrows raised in astonishment.  "Impressive," she admitted.

"It will be a way we can communicate back and forth between each other," Alewyth replied.  "In case either of us gets into a spot of trouble and needs the assistance of the other, we can communicate through the moogles.  They always have someone on duty, and they'll be able to pass on messages as needed."

"I can see how that would be a benefit," Lady Arabella agreed.  "Very well, I'll do so."  She looked around and saw no sign of the horse she'd stolen to try to escape from the assassin devil Columbrando had set on her - it had fled far away while they'd been fighting in the Temple of Clem.  "...I don't suppose there's a shrine to Delphyne in this little village?" she hazarded.

"This Temple of Clem is all they have here," Thurloe answered.

"Hmm.  I don't suppose you can give a fellow dreamwalker a ride to the nearest city of decent size?  Or to somewhere I might at least rent a horse?"

"Not a problem, My Lady," replied Wakuren, back to his old gentle self now that the red rage of battle-lust had once again been extinguished.  "You can ride in the wagon with Scarlie and me."

"Delightful."

 - - -

I was worried the players were going to blow through this adventure in record time, since they took out my eblises without much effort at all, and then Joe turned out to be an "expert" at "the floor is lava" - which I had the players act out, by moving the action from my man-cave where we play over to the family room, where I had everyone sit on the sofa, loveseat, and recliner before explaining to them they all had to return to the man-cave without touching the floor directly.  Joe grabbed up a blanket and walked his way to the end of the hall like a pro and then returned to do it again, only this time with Harry on his back, Harry laughing his head off the whole way.  (Joe's well over six feet tall, while Harry's just a tad bit under my own 5' 8" and probably weighs less than half of what Joe weighs.)  I had envisioned the group making a string of "islands" with pillows and blankets, moving the back "island" to the front by passing it along the group, but the blanket-walking proved to be much quicker.  Fortunately, the fight at the end took a lot of time, especially once Columbrando and the imp showed up.

As always, I had a series of episodes of "Music from the Hearts of Space" playing in the background on my computer as we went through this session, but I started it off in an appropriate fashion by beginning the playlist with Sweet's "Fox on the Run."

 - - -

T-shirt worn: My black Dalek T-shirt with the caption "Exterminate" - since that was exactly what the assassin devil had been set to do to Lady Arabella Vulpina, AKA "the Fox."


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